trimming, ignatia . citizen

[IGNATIA TRIMMING]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][cs=2][atrb=style, width: 450px, bTable][STYLE=background-color: #111; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -o-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; border-radius: 10px; width: 105; height: 105; margin-left: 255pt; margin-bottom: -90pt; opacity: 0.9;] [STYLE=background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/1ksGJOB.png'); height: 100px; width: 100px; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -o-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; border-radius: 10px; border: 3px solid #0F0F0F; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: 15px;][/style][/style]

[cs=2][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px, bTable][STYLE= font: 24pt Helvetica; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase; margin-top: 10px; ]IGNATIA MAY TRIMMING[/style] [STYLE= font: 7pt Helvetica; text-transform: uppercase; color: #eee; margin-top: -20px; width: 360px; text-align: justify; border-bottom: 1px dashed #aeaeae; margin-left:- 8px;]FEMALE ✖ PANSEXUAL ✖ TWENTY-THREE ✖ CITIZEN ✖ "TRADER" [/style]
[atrb=style, padding: 8px; opacity: 0.7; width: 175px;][STYLE=height: 250px; width: 185px; overflow: auto; font: 7pt arial; text-align: justify; padding: 6px;] LIKES; ♥ experimenting ♥ conversations ♥ honesty ♥ affection ♥ noise DISLIKES; • the dark • slow days • isolation • being restrained • relationships POSITIVES; ○ creative ○ inquisitive ○ adventurous ○ honest ○ unbiased ○ careful ○ great host ○ passionate ○ independent ○ strong-willed NEGATIVES; ■ possessive ■ sadistic ■ inconsistent ■ moody ■ clingy ■ manipulative ■ rarely serious ■ easily offended ■ assuming ■ prying HABITS/MANNERISMS; ♦ scratches her arms when anxious or bored ♦ tends to jump to conclusions and react emotionally ♦ very quick to become angry when deceived FEARS; ♦ the dark ♦ prolonged silence ♦ complete isolation [/style]	[atrb=style, padding: 8px; opacity: 0.7; width: 175px;][STYLE=height: 250px; overflow: auto; font: 7pt arial; text-align: justify; padding: 6px; width: 175px; ]HEIGHT; 5'4" WEIGHT; 128 lbs ACCESSORIES/ITEMS; - five knives (x2 daggers in boots, x1 switchblade in backpack, x2 pocket knives in pockets) - digital watch - cell phone - old yellowed picture from her teenage years - list of addresses and names (friends/acquaintances/partners) FACE CLAIM; [b]mirai nikki[/b], yuno gasai -- [i]ignatia trimming[/i] [/style]
[cs=2][atrb=style, padding: 8px; border-top: 1px dashed #aeaeae; opacity: 0.7;][STYLE=height: 100px; overflow: auto; font: 7pt arial; text-align: justify; padding: 6px; ]HISTORY OR EXTRA INFORMATION; A great doctor. That was supposed to be Ignatia’s fate from the time she came into the world. Her parents were both great people, the Trimmings were. Both accomplished doctors, well known around the local hospitals with a few honors that extended across the country. So, it could be expected that they would give birth to an intelligent little girl who loved to learn. It would be expected, but it was really only partially true. From the time she was young Ignatia found the idea of being a doctor as unfavorable. It was that natural, age old idea that as soon as something meant to be a free choice becomes a job or a set decision it stops being intriguing. It stops being something you want to do. Being told from the time you can comprehend speech that you are meant to be a doctor is a grating thing that Ignatia responded very negatively. While little Ignatia would sit through child-styled lessons on the human body, what the different systems in the body were and what organs made them up, she only did it fussing the whole way through and constantly trying to escape and watch some mind-numbing television. Her parents didn’t understand why she was so objective towards the idea of becoming what they were. Doctors, respected and powerful, with the ability to save those in trouble. When she went to school her rebellious attitude went up and their confusion with it. She did perfectly in her classes. In elementary school she got all “4’s and 5’s” in everything. Everything that is, except Science. According to teacher notes she payed perfect attention in class, knew the answers to any question that was thrown at her by the instructor, but turned in blank homework and tests regularly. This continued for multiple years, though around the time she reached 5th grade she’d decided to start doing minimal effort and earn a C in the class so she wouldn’t hurt her grades too badly. Naturally, her parents were only willing to take so much of the “rebellion” their daughter was staging. So, when she got about halfway through Middle School and began gaining things like close friends and fun and new technology she was informed that she’d have those privileges revoked if any of her grades fell below a B. The grade in Science was reluctantly raised to a B, and her first bit of rebellion was effectively quashed. After all, why sustain a B in a class when you could just raise it to an A like the rest of your grades? Around the time she reached 9th grade she began something many teenagers go for. Ignatia began to wish to find “herself”. Find someway to express herself. She tried a lot of things. First she tried getting into music. While her singing voice was decent, and she could do a few nice things with a string instrument, she found herself quickly tiring of it. She then attempted a stream of things. Photography, sports, competitive clubs, all kinds of little things that could help her find a niche. Nothing really seemed to work out until, in a disgusting stroke of irony, she found her way into a Science Club. To be exact, she found herself absolutely fascinated with the human body. Suddenly all those old lessons her parents had taught her re-appeared and she found herself questioning why she’d ever fought so hard against their wishes. Naturally, her parents were pleased, and Ignatia herself was soon happy as well with something she could focus on and strive for. She would become a great doctor. Most of her time at school was average. She made friends, made a few enemies, and did the best she could in all her classes. She did a great job of keeping a good GPA, ever the whiz-kid vying for valedictorian. The only real difference came when, in her junior year, she met a nice boy by the name of Jonathon Row, usually called Jonny for short. He had been in the Science Club with her for quite some time, but she only really began to speak with him as he began to appear in her classes. Human Anatomy, Medical Terminology, all those classes one took when they planned to someday find a profession involving medicine and the treatment of illnesses. It turned out he also wished to be a doctor when he graduated, and she found it easy to have long talks with him about the subject. Eventually the subject began to broaden. From “what did I miss in class?” to “what did you do yesterday?”, then from that to “what are you doing during lunch?”, and from there appeared “what are you doing tonight?”. Questions upon questions until eventually the big one came. “What are you doing tomorrow night? Would you like to go out on a date with me?” It was a few months into Ignatia truly getting to know him and, struck by their similarities and how kind he was, she agreed happily. Jonathon became as much a part of Ignatia’s life as school, science, and her future career plans. They spent a lot of time together. Most of the time working on their shared interests, and many times not so much. Their relationship progressed at a decent pace. It started out with doing homework with hands clasped, escalated to trying to do homework between the occasional kiss, and eventually turned into ditching the homework for a date or simply a night of kissing and niceties. They were careful to keep things from going too far, always, but things did go a great distance from time to time. At graduation Ignatia achieved her dream of valedictorian, a great mark on her college applications. Scholarships came from everywhere. She chose to go somewhere local, a choice made more by Jonathon than her. In fact, she noticed him becoming more and more of an overbearing force as the possibilities to leave the town she’d grown up in, they’d grown up in, increasing. He was possessive in the way he attempted to keep her near him. He always wanted to come over, always wanted a hug, a kiss, and no matter what it was rarely truly enough for him. Ignatia thought herself an idiot for not seeing the event coming. Four years into their relationship Jonathon called her to the local cafe. It didn’t take long for her to show up, but apparently it was still too long for him. She got a text saying he had seen her as she pulled up and he left, and that he’d be there in a second. He told her to wait out in the parking lot for a short while and that when he pulled up they could go somewhere more nice to eat instead. She waited faithfully, patiently, and then all went black as a glove found her face. When she next awoke she was in a dark room. Alone, hurting slightly, with her hands tied above her head. Her first reaction was naturally panic. She had been kidnapped! Stolen by some killer, pervert, or worse. When she heard a familiar voice she foolishly allowed herself to relax. Jonathon came into sight and spoke soothing words to her, stroked her face, allowed her to almost forget her captivity. However, when it came back to her it struck her harder than before. Why was Jonathon here? Why wasn’t he releasing her? Well, he explained. As it became clearer and clearer, at least to him, that Ignatia may leave sometime soon, he began to worry. There was so much they hadn’t done together. They hadn’t had dates in certain spots, hadn’t said certain things, hadn’t shared some very important moments. He couldn’t just let her leave. So, he decided he’d make sure she couldn’t. He locked her up in his basement, and he told her how nice it would be to know where she was 24/7. Told her not to worry, as he would bring her food, clothes, allow her to walk supervised to the bathroom, and of course he would be available at any time she needed him. Just like she would be available anytime he wanted or needed her. For the first day Ignatia treated it like a joke. Laughed at him when he appeared, chuckled at his comments. It was no big deal, he was playing an elaborate prank on her, and if she freaked out he’d laugh and let her go. So she decided to simply tough it out. By the third day it began to be clear to her that he wasn’t kidding. That he was legitimately keeping her there. She began to truly panic, yelling and thrashing in the bed. He would take this as a sign she needed soothing, would cuddle up underneath her restrained arms and shower her with kisses and kind words. For awhile this was enough for him to think he was soothing her. However, she kept fighting. What else could she want? Well, the solution wasn’t hard for him. Obviously the only thing they hadn’t truly done. The result was a sickening feeling in her stomach that kept her silent, rather than any true peace he brought. He took this as enough reason to repeat the procedure every time she panicked. It worked to keep her quiet, but not much else. Around the end of the first month she began shooting venomous words at him, began openly despising him. He hated that. His soothing wasn’t working, she wouldn’t calm down for anything in this world. He grew angry at Ignatia and began to abuse her in new ways. He’d spit venom back, whisper threats in her ear. Threats he consistently followed through on. His first threat was that she’d regret her venom soon enough. When she spat in his face as a response she found herself bruised and aching for days. Days that of course required soothing so she’d feel better. As another month passed the abuse increased. He left deep cuts that would scar, wounds that wouldn’t heal for weeks, scratches that would turn bruised colors and object to even the gentlest touch. Ignatia withstood it all shedding only a handful of tears in response to pain she hadn’t truly imagined until the experience. He left deep incisions in her that he would then patch up, telling her how he’d learned a new suture technique in class. They would scar, and he’d make sure to tell her how long he estimated they’d stay. Eventually, after about five months of captivity, a ruckus awoke her from pained unconsciousness. The sound of a few gunshots, the yelling of Jonathon, the pounding of many feet. Then the door was kicked in and a group of men entered. At first she panicked, an energy to escape igniting in her that she hadn’t felt in months. Then a gentle hand undid her restraints and she found herself clutching to the man with shaking hands. They’d finally found her, but in the coming months it would become clear it was a bit too late. Therapy and medical care. They were done simultaneously. One yielded good news, while the other offered only bad. Therapy revealed a wealth of new fears and lasting trauma that would be a challenge, if not impossible, to fully heal. While her physical wounds would become near unnoticeable in just a few years, her mind was a trap waiting to pull her deeper into an insanity Jonathon had planted. Given some time she went from jittery and scared to what was initially thought to be healing. Then she regressed violently. Nightmares and a good few incidents brought her right back down, but this time she was violent and paranoid. She saw enemies in everyone and had panic attacks when left alone or in the dark for too long. She heard whispers, saw demons. A bag of bottles fixed this. Prescriptions that listed a good half-dozen pills that would keep her mental state stable. Even when she was on the medicine things broke through. If she was hugged in the right way she’d shiver and feel a wave of nausea. The wrong pet-names would incite either fear or anger. The word “relationships” was enough to set her into jitters. The dark, silence, and isolation were still three things that would slowly creep past the medicine and attempt to awaken that more unstable part of her. She was still broken. However, she found release in what she had wished to be for so long. When deemed ready, she was allowed to move to Washington DC. There, she was revealed to a secret world. A world of morphs. She appeared just as the pokemorphs began to rebel. Just as they needed those nasty chips of theirs removed. With her expertise as a doctor she was more than qualified to run a shady underground place for surgery. She skillfully extracted chips with few casualties, and on the side liked to handle things like amputations and jobs involving big wounds that needed lots of cleaning and suturing. The work brought her near euphoric glee, which she didn’t connect to her past. During this time she encountered a strange man. A few years younger than her but a good foot taller, with a way about him that made her feel almost at ease. Almost, not quite. She got to know him rather well. They had tea many times, had dinner a bit less, and he even once slept under her roof. Even in her bed with her. Something she couldn’t remember doing, or rather wouldn’t remember doing. She became clingy and possessive of him. Shades of her past again, though when it came up she tried her best to fight it. She even managed to keep herself from acting on the strange urges that came with that possessiveness. That urge to force obedience, to keep him indefinitely to herself. Then she had to vanish for a while. A surgery gone bad led them straight to her. She up and left. Given a while she was able to come back, only to be unsure about where the man had gone to. They re-found one another for awhile. Small things went down. Nothing serious, just more development for their, whatever it was. Then it was his turn to disappear without a word. It sent her into a panic. Just as he began to become a compass of peace for her. Someone who could quell even her worse rage, he vanished. She needed to find him. She tracked him for months and eventually found her way to New York, where he’d moved for work. Upset, she decided to find him, give him a piece of her mind, and maybe take a bit of him home with her. [/style]
[cs=2][atrb=style, padding: 8px; border-top: 1px dashed #aeaeae; opacity: 0.7;][STYLE=font: 7pt arial; padding: 6px; text-align: center;] YOUR POKEMON/DNA wind chime || levitate || psychic psychic ;; heal pulse ;; heal bell ;; astonish ;; hypnosis ;; curse [/style]
[cs=2][atrb=style, padding: 8px; border-top: 1px dashed #aeaeae; opacity: 0.7; ][STYLE= font: 7pt arial; padding: 6px; text-align: justify;]CBOX NAME; realtalkbuddy AGE; 16 YEARS ROLE PLAYING; 3 OTHER CHARACTERS; nelson trace [/style]

[ZANZIBAR]

accepted.