Post by <DeVoN> on Nov 17, 2009 10:50:44 GMT -8
Basic Information[/u]
Name: Devon (Formerly known as Gabriella Moreno)
Also Known As: Devon
Age: 15
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 119 lbs
Blood Type: B+
Gender: "...Damn it, I hate this question. Which do you mean, sociological gender or biological gender? Because sociologically, I don't associate myself with either male or female. Limitting both yourself and society's perceptions of yourself by catagorizing yourself like that is, quite frankly, complete bullshit. Or do you mean biological gender, otherwise known as SEX? That's right, I said it. SEX. Seriously, when are people gonna learn? GENDER AND SEX ARE NOT THE SAME THING."
SEX: "Female. Christ almighty..."
Sexuality: "None." Really? "Chyeah, as far as you know." ...Well fine then. Moving on...
Eye Color: Black and almond shaped. They seem to never shine any light off of them, and often have dark circles underneath them from lack of sleep.
Hair: Black. Is worn in a wild, short-ish, spiked style, though most of it is usually hidden underneath her hat. Two long chin-length bangs hang from the sides of her head, the tips bleached white.
Pass Time Information
Hobbies: Clothing design (includes sewing, knitting, stitching, and the like), playing games (specifically board games and logic games), reading
Talents: Clothing design, critical thinking, knowledge of pressure points and general fighting skills.
Favorite things: Clothing design, board and/or logic games,
Sports/Clubs: None at the moment.
Misc.:
Mental Information
Personality: Ohhhh boy. How to describe Devon? Well... let's pretend, for instance, that it's another day, just a Saturday, and she has absolutely no plans for the day. She would spend the day doing whatever she wanted to, just going along with what happened and accepting it. Now, let's also pretend that all of a sudden, she decides on a goal for the day; she's going to buy a new chess set. She goes down to the shop, right? But it turns out... the shop just closed down just as she got there! While some might stop here and give up, Devon can be a stubborn bitch when she wants to. When Devon sets a goal for herself, she either reaches it, or dies in the process. Oh, and she has practically no sense of right and wrong. Thus, she's likely at this point and time to demand to be let in by the manager (who just turned the "open" sign over to "closed" and is locking up shop). When this does not work, she would proceed to beat his ass into the pavement, take the keys, and get the chess set herself (she would pay, but would probably give herself a discount for the trouble that the manager gave her.) Yeah, she's an odd duck.
From this story, we learn a few different things about Devon. She is impulsive, stubborn as hell, a bit of a smart ass, and not against handing peoples' asses to them, or even killing them if she feels like it.
Despite all of this, one would hesitate to really consider her an angry person for a few reasons. One, she probably wasn't that angry at the manager. She probably simply beat him up because he was in the way of her goal, and gave herself the discount because she wanted to be a smart-ass. Two, she never really looks angry. In fact, 99.9999999% of the time that one might look at her, she maintains a blank, bored expression on her face. Due to this, she has a sort of aura of apathy.
Mentality: Though some would argue this fact, Devon's sanity has been steadily improving over the last few years. She has a couple of symptoms such as delusions, violent tendencies, and general lack of emotion, but all things considered, she would probably be considered one of the more sane teenage psychos in the area.
Ideal: "Everything you know is wrong, moral judgement is for pussies, and hoes are for gutting."
Belief: Although Devon is not affiliated with any sort of religion per se, she has a firm belief in fate. Everything is fated to happen. Joy, sadness, success, failure, life, and most of all, death. Everyone has an expiration date, and she intends to enjoy her life to the fullest and fufill her purpose before her date arrives. Now, if only she could find her purpose, everything'd be hunky-dory.
Physical Information
Build: About average height, with a rather small frame. Slight athletic muscle, and breasts somewhere between an A and a B cup.
Defining Marks: A thin (though long) knife scar running diagonally across her stomach, from the side of her bottom right rib to just below her belly button. Also, she has a small mole on the right side of her neck.
Description: Devon's skin is a deep tan, her complexion smooth and with few noticable blemishes. Her roundish face is evidence of this fact, seeming to contain few wrinkles (a state caused by her lack of facial expression.) Her nose is nubian-shaped, and her mouth is rather small and pouty. Her limbs are long with both her arms and legs showing a hint of athletic muscle. Overall, she would be considered a moderately attractive sort of person, were it not for the fact that she has practically no sense of sexuality and that her insomnia makes her eyes look almost zombie-like.
Apparel Information
Head Gear: A self-knit black and white striped hoodie is worn on her head in a way so that some of her hair still sticks out on the bottom.
Shirts: Usually, she wears to be a white jersey with lining and the number "13" on it, both in black.
Pants: Short black cargos with white lining. Eight pockets, four in front and four in back.
Shoes: Black sandals with white lining and white soles, 2/3 an inch in height.
Misc: This outfit is accompanied by long black-and-white-striped socks and a pair of long, baggy, seperated black-and-white-striped sleeves.
Fighting Information
Fighting Style: "Well, I never got any formal training, really... well... except for that one time Dan got me to take a class at the community center... thaaaaaat didn't turn out too well. Otherwise, I just sorta do what comes to me."
Years Practiced: "Well... all my life, basically. Though Dan's taught me a few things over the years. I guess that started... when I was nine? So six years with that..."
Description of style: "My style? Well, I tend to use open-palm strikes, chops, bitchsmacking... you know. That sorta shit. Maybe a bit of elbowing. Usually try to aim for pressure points and the like. I use my feet for moving around, though if I see an opportunity, I might try to trip the bitch up."
History Information
History: It was about six years ago when she was first found. Daniel Ross Gilman, a man of twenty years of age at the time, was fixing dinner in his home when someone knocked on the door. Upon opening the door, he found a little hispanic girl, probably only nine years old or so. She was dirty, skinny, covered in some rather odd rags, and looked up at him with a cold, lifeless stare.
"'Oy. You got some food in there?"
Before he could open his mouth, the girl walked right on in, tracking mud right into the appartment, as if she had lived in the townhouse all of her life, following what he assumed to be the smell of the lasagna in the oven. After recovering from his shock at this child's odd behavior, Daniel rushed into the kitchen to find her digging through the fridge.
"Nice fridge you got. Actually, all things considered, things look pretty good. Tile's replaced, a working clock... your food selection sucks ass, though. Oh, well, chow is chow."
She finally took out an apple and a mozzerella stick and sat at the table, taking her shoes off and putting her feet on the table. After unwrapping the cheese stick and taking a bite, the little girl finally looked back over at the gaping man at the kitchen entrance and tilted her head a bit.
"...You're kind of a pushover, aintcha?"
After taking a second to regain his mind, Daniel finally blurted out,
"...What are you doing in my appartment...?"
"...And a little slow, too, I see. I'm eating, obviously. I'm going to live here."
"Erm... but... but this... kind of my house...!"
By this time, though, she had scarfed down the cheese stick and was walking past him, looking into the living room.
"Video games? Sheesh, there's a lot of them... You have way too much free time on your hands."
Daniel ran towards her and outstretched his arms.
"W...Wait! Wait! Don't touch those! They're important! And who are you, anyways?!"
The little girl didn't even bother looking at him as she looked around, inspecting the rest of the house.
"Call me Devon. Used to live here a while back... don't have much place else to live now, so I'm going to live here. You got a job?"
"...Yeah... I have an online business. Pays pretty well..."
Right at that moment, the timer for the lasagna went off, and Daniel rushed to the kitchen to take it out of the oven. As Devon walked into the kitchen, he sighed.
"Look... I have no idea who you are, but... I'll let you have some dinner. Where's your family?"
"Don't have none... that I know of."
In the end, Daniel wasn't really sure why he decided to let the odd little girl stay. He supposed that it was partially out of pity, but it was also because after talking to her for most of the night, they began to understand each other a bit more, and a bit of a bond grew between them. Oh, and that he was a bit of a pushover. Devon took advantage of that a lot. But as they spent time together and learned from each other, he decided that someone had to look after this girl and help her grow up. He registered her into school, and over the years, he helped to teach her a bit of self-defence. She was already quite good, having lived on the streets for a while, but he helped her to improve tremendously.
To this day, Daniel acts as a sort of older-brother-figure to Devon, giving advice here and there, but letting her forge her own path. After all, everyone deserves the chance to live life the way that they choose. Besides that, there was no way a yellow-bellied wimp like him could assert against Devon's steely gaze and iron will.
And Devon? Well, she had gotten through middle school with moderate success, and now was graduating on to high school. Not just any high school, though. She was planning on going to PHS #259, known for many things, including its strong fighters. When Daniel asked her about why she decided to go there, she simply looked at him with her black-hole gaze and replied,
"Dan, you should already know the answer to that question. Why else?
For shits and giggles."
Living Status Information[/u]
Type of residence: Appartment.
Roommates: Her "parental guardian", Daniel Ross Gilman. twenty-six years of age. Skinny and angular in body type. Brown hair worn in a sort of "Jew-fro". Glasses. Currently runs a moderately successful website for renting/selling used videogames.
Basic Information[/u]
Cases Against The Faculty: 0
Cases Of Hurting Students: 0
Last but not least, Bio Approval Code Phrase: "No, I don't want to dance with the cookie! Actually, I lied. I wouldn't really mind or care, as long as I got to eat the damn thing afterwards."
Name: Devon (Formerly known as Gabriella Moreno)
Also Known As: Devon
Age: 15
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 119 lbs
Blood Type: B+
Gender: "...Damn it, I hate this question. Which do you mean, sociological gender or biological gender? Because sociologically, I don't associate myself with either male or female. Limitting both yourself and society's perceptions of yourself by catagorizing yourself like that is, quite frankly, complete bullshit. Or do you mean biological gender, otherwise known as SEX? That's right, I said it. SEX. Seriously, when are people gonna learn? GENDER AND SEX ARE NOT THE SAME THING."
SEX: "Female. Christ almighty..."
Sexuality: "None." Really? "Chyeah, as far as you know." ...Well fine then. Moving on...
Eye Color: Black and almond shaped. They seem to never shine any light off of them, and often have dark circles underneath them from lack of sleep.
Hair: Black. Is worn in a wild, short-ish, spiked style, though most of it is usually hidden underneath her hat. Two long chin-length bangs hang from the sides of her head, the tips bleached white.
Pass Time Information
Hobbies: Clothing design (includes sewing, knitting, stitching, and the like), playing games (specifically board games and logic games), reading
Talents: Clothing design, critical thinking, knowledge of pressure points and general fighting skills.
Favorite things: Clothing design, board and/or logic games,
Sports/Clubs: None at the moment.
Misc.:
Mental Information
Personality: Ohhhh boy. How to describe Devon? Well... let's pretend, for instance, that it's another day, just a Saturday, and she has absolutely no plans for the day. She would spend the day doing whatever she wanted to, just going along with what happened and accepting it. Now, let's also pretend that all of a sudden, she decides on a goal for the day; she's going to buy a new chess set. She goes down to the shop, right? But it turns out... the shop just closed down just as she got there! While some might stop here and give up, Devon can be a stubborn bitch when she wants to. When Devon sets a goal for herself, she either reaches it, or dies in the process. Oh, and she has practically no sense of right and wrong. Thus, she's likely at this point and time to demand to be let in by the manager (who just turned the "open" sign over to "closed" and is locking up shop). When this does not work, she would proceed to beat his ass into the pavement, take the keys, and get the chess set herself (she would pay, but would probably give herself a discount for the trouble that the manager gave her.) Yeah, she's an odd duck.
From this story, we learn a few different things about Devon. She is impulsive, stubborn as hell, a bit of a smart ass, and not against handing peoples' asses to them, or even killing them if she feels like it.
Despite all of this, one would hesitate to really consider her an angry person for a few reasons. One, she probably wasn't that angry at the manager. She probably simply beat him up because he was in the way of her goal, and gave herself the discount because she wanted to be a smart-ass. Two, she never really looks angry. In fact, 99.9999999% of the time that one might look at her, she maintains a blank, bored expression on her face. Due to this, she has a sort of aura of apathy.
Mentality: Though some would argue this fact, Devon's sanity has been steadily improving over the last few years. She has a couple of symptoms such as delusions, violent tendencies, and general lack of emotion, but all things considered, she would probably be considered one of the more sane teenage psychos in the area.
Ideal: "Everything you know is wrong, moral judgement is for pussies, and hoes are for gutting."
Belief: Although Devon is not affiliated with any sort of religion per se, she has a firm belief in fate. Everything is fated to happen. Joy, sadness, success, failure, life, and most of all, death. Everyone has an expiration date, and she intends to enjoy her life to the fullest and fufill her purpose before her date arrives. Now, if only she could find her purpose, everything'd be hunky-dory.
Physical Information
Build: About average height, with a rather small frame. Slight athletic muscle, and breasts somewhere between an A and a B cup.
Defining Marks: A thin (though long) knife scar running diagonally across her stomach, from the side of her bottom right rib to just below her belly button. Also, she has a small mole on the right side of her neck.
Description: Devon's skin is a deep tan, her complexion smooth and with few noticable blemishes. Her roundish face is evidence of this fact, seeming to contain few wrinkles (a state caused by her lack of facial expression.) Her nose is nubian-shaped, and her mouth is rather small and pouty. Her limbs are long with both her arms and legs showing a hint of athletic muscle. Overall, she would be considered a moderately attractive sort of person, were it not for the fact that she has practically no sense of sexuality and that her insomnia makes her eyes look almost zombie-like.
Apparel Information
Head Gear: A self-knit black and white striped hoodie is worn on her head in a way so that some of her hair still sticks out on the bottom.
Shirts: Usually, she wears to be a white jersey with lining and the number "13" on it, both in black.
Pants: Short black cargos with white lining. Eight pockets, four in front and four in back.
Shoes: Black sandals with white lining and white soles, 2/3 an inch in height.
Misc: This outfit is accompanied by long black-and-white-striped socks and a pair of long, baggy, seperated black-and-white-striped sleeves.
Fighting Information
Fighting Style: "Well, I never got any formal training, really... well... except for that one time Dan got me to take a class at the community center... thaaaaaat didn't turn out too well. Otherwise, I just sorta do what comes to me."
Years Practiced: "Well... all my life, basically. Though Dan's taught me a few things over the years. I guess that started... when I was nine? So six years with that..."
Description of style: "My style? Well, I tend to use open-palm strikes, chops, bitchsmacking... you know. That sorta shit. Maybe a bit of elbowing. Usually try to aim for pressure points and the like. I use my feet for moving around, though if I see an opportunity, I might try to trip the bitch up."
History Information
History: It was about six years ago when she was first found. Daniel Ross Gilman, a man of twenty years of age at the time, was fixing dinner in his home when someone knocked on the door. Upon opening the door, he found a little hispanic girl, probably only nine years old or so. She was dirty, skinny, covered in some rather odd rags, and looked up at him with a cold, lifeless stare.
"'Oy. You got some food in there?"
Before he could open his mouth, the girl walked right on in, tracking mud right into the appartment, as if she had lived in the townhouse all of her life, following what he assumed to be the smell of the lasagna in the oven. After recovering from his shock at this child's odd behavior, Daniel rushed into the kitchen to find her digging through the fridge.
"Nice fridge you got. Actually, all things considered, things look pretty good. Tile's replaced, a working clock... your food selection sucks ass, though. Oh, well, chow is chow."
She finally took out an apple and a mozzerella stick and sat at the table, taking her shoes off and putting her feet on the table. After unwrapping the cheese stick and taking a bite, the little girl finally looked back over at the gaping man at the kitchen entrance and tilted her head a bit.
"...You're kind of a pushover, aintcha?"
After taking a second to regain his mind, Daniel finally blurted out,
"...What are you doing in my appartment...?"
"...And a little slow, too, I see. I'm eating, obviously. I'm going to live here."
"Erm... but... but this... kind of my house...!"
By this time, though, she had scarfed down the cheese stick and was walking past him, looking into the living room.
"Video games? Sheesh, there's a lot of them... You have way too much free time on your hands."
Daniel ran towards her and outstretched his arms.
"W...Wait! Wait! Don't touch those! They're important! And who are you, anyways?!"
The little girl didn't even bother looking at him as she looked around, inspecting the rest of the house.
"Call me Devon. Used to live here a while back... don't have much place else to live now, so I'm going to live here. You got a job?"
"...Yeah... I have an online business. Pays pretty well..."
Right at that moment, the timer for the lasagna went off, and Daniel rushed to the kitchen to take it out of the oven. As Devon walked into the kitchen, he sighed.
"Look... I have no idea who you are, but... I'll let you have some dinner. Where's your family?"
"Don't have none... that I know of."
In the end, Daniel wasn't really sure why he decided to let the odd little girl stay. He supposed that it was partially out of pity, but it was also because after talking to her for most of the night, they began to understand each other a bit more, and a bit of a bond grew between them. Oh, and that he was a bit of a pushover. Devon took advantage of that a lot. But as they spent time together and learned from each other, he decided that someone had to look after this girl and help her grow up. He registered her into school, and over the years, he helped to teach her a bit of self-defence. She was already quite good, having lived on the streets for a while, but he helped her to improve tremendously.
To this day, Daniel acts as a sort of older-brother-figure to Devon, giving advice here and there, but letting her forge her own path. After all, everyone deserves the chance to live life the way that they choose. Besides that, there was no way a yellow-bellied wimp like him could assert against Devon's steely gaze and iron will.
And Devon? Well, she had gotten through middle school with moderate success, and now was graduating on to high school. Not just any high school, though. She was planning on going to PHS #259, known for many things, including its strong fighters. When Daniel asked her about why she decided to go there, she simply looked at him with her black-hole gaze and replied,
"Dan, you should already know the answer to that question. Why else?
For shits and giggles."
Living Status Information[/u]
Type of residence: Appartment.
Roommates: Her "parental guardian", Daniel Ross Gilman. twenty-six years of age. Skinny and angular in body type. Brown hair worn in a sort of "Jew-fro". Glasses. Currently runs a moderately successful website for renting/selling used videogames.
Basic Information[/u]
Cases Against The Faculty: 0
Cases Of Hurting Students: 0
| Slot | Item(s) |
| Head | |
| Hat/Bandana | Row 19 Column 2 |
| Earrings | Row 20 Column 2 |
| Glasses | Row 21 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Torso | |
| Shirt | Row 2 Column 2 |
| Jacket/Coat | Row 3 Column 2 |
| Necklace | Row 4 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Arms | |
| Arm | Row 6 Column 2 |
| Wrist | Row 7 Column 2 |
| Gloves | Row 8 Column 2 |
| Ring | Row 9 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Legs | |
| Pants | Row 11 Column 2 |
| Shin | Row 12 Column 2 |
| Shoes | Row 13 Column 2 |
| Belt | Row 14 Column 2 |
| [/td | |
| Misc | |
| 1 | Row 16 Column 2 |
| 2 | Row 17 Column 2 |
Last but not least, Bio Approval Code Phrase: "No, I don't want to dance with the cookie! Actually, I lied. I wouldn't really mind or care, as long as I got to eat the damn thing afterwards."
