Post by Gelato. on Jul 23, 2012 23:11:33 GMT -5
Outpatient Azonyll Brioche Tenne
of Sootopolis City, Hoenn.
[/i]of Sootopolis City, Hoenn.
Azo. - Fifteen. - Female.
Place of Residence.
Currently none.
Occupation.
Despite her aspirations to become a successful trainer, Azo is currently an outpatient of the Sootopolis General Hopsital.
Preferred Pokémon.
Having heard only stories of the Pokémon of the world, Azo prefers strange or exotic Pokémon and favors those with interesting features.
Sexuality.
Azo cares very little for matters of the heart, when they pertain to herself, though she has devoted very little time to thinking about it. She is presumably asexual.
Relationship Status.
Having had no experience with such things, she is, and has always been, single.
Family.
Father: Johnston Jefferson Cordille - 77 - Deceased
Mother: Helene Martine Tenne - 68 - Deceased
Appearance
At the core, just a young teenage girl, you would imagine Azo should give off vibes of vibrant, youthful energy. You'd expect her to be running or skipping off to flirt with boys or shop with girlfriends, whatever young people do these days. Unfortunately, the frail as a bird Azo is nothing of the sort. She happens to be young, a teenager, and a girl, but that's where the similarities with her peers end. Standing at a meager five and a half feet, she is at least able to compensate with purposefully perfect posture. She is careful never to slouch or bend over improperly, and her hands are always together, her feet in a straight line with her shoulders. She curtsies when introducing herself, and is careful to use 'sir' or 'ma'am' when referring to most anyone.
All her niceties and gracious movements do not distract from her frail physique and bony features. Her wrists stick out and her knees are knobbly. Her shoulders jut out and her hips poke sharpy from her body. Her elbows are sharp and her body seems to be ready to break at any moment. Azo bruises quite easily and her skin is often dotted with marks and dark patches of varying colors. Stumble and hit a wall? Bruises along her ribs for weeks. Sit down too hard? Dark knees for days. Her pale skin is unblemished, but for those bruises and the occasional surgery scar on her torso. She is somewhat embarrassed of these markings and sheepishly covers then when confronted.
Her complexion has improved in recent times, consequence of her more frequent outings and improved health. She is, however, still quite pale. The veins of her wrist and throat are quite visible and a blush is quite obvious, coloring, at times, even her neck and shoulders. Azo's cheeks are clear of freckles and her skin free from blemishes, yet her visage is quite unnatural when considering the massive dark circles about her eyes. Her eyes give the impression of a Zigzagoon at times, what with the dark surrounding them. Not only her skin, but her eyelashes are quite dark. The skin is darkened from a combination of poor sleep and characteristic bruising. If she could keep from rubbing at her eyes and sleep more deeply, perhaps the coloration would be minimized, but as it stands, her eyes are hauntingly dark.
Being so thin, Azo is afforded a great many opportunities in clothing. However, due to her upbringing, her sense of fashion is a combination of the much older generation, and the aspirations of the younger generation. "Cover your knees!" the older patients cried. "Paint your nails!" the young nurses shouted. "Put your hair up!" the old men reprimanded. "Show off your shoulders!" the janitors pleaded. And so it went, two diametrically opposing forces pushing and pulling on Azo until she gave to both of them and concessions could be made. Alright, she could wear shorter dresses, as long as she wore stockings. Fine, she would wear gloves, just as long as she could let her hair down however she liked. Growing up, Azo was not very involved in what she wore and actually rather enjoyed playing doll for the people who raised her in the PC ward.
A true Tenne, Azo inherited her mother's golden, orange hair that falls in soft ringlets and open waves. Though naturally thick and strong, her illness and constant stream of medications has left her hair frail and brittle. She is quite careful when combing it and tries to put off the activity as long as possible. Her hair matches her eyes, her father's eyes, which are a golden sort of reddish-brown that seem totally unnatural, yet plain as porridge. Her lips are full and plump, if a little dry and prone to being chewed. Her cheekbones are round and full, but her cheeks themselves gaunt and quite thin.
All in all, Azo does not give off the warm, friendly vibe she sometimes wishes to. Rather, she tends to hover off to the side, blending into the background as she watches things go on. She is often difficult to notice and easily overlooked in favor of louder, brighter beauties.
Personality
Like most girls her age, Azo loves to talk to people. However, unlike her peers, she isn't much of a fan of holding up her end of the conversation. Indeed, she's a people person, but only insofar as she loves to hear others talk and tell her stories. She is actually not very concerned with whether the stories they tell are truth or lies, she just likes to hear what they will say when given the chance. She believes you can learn a lot about a person by listening to their words and how they tell their story, and she can think of no better way to spent a lazy afternoon than enjoying some tea with a nice tale to go with it. She adores reading, fantasy and non-fiction alike, and is prone to staying up far too late with her nose stuck in a book. The long naps that come afterward are always worth it, in her mind. She loves learning new things and hearing about new places. Azo is all about new experiences, new music, new foods, new sights, and will do just about anything with the promise of some unexplored venture.
Though she is very frail, Azo does not like that to keep her from doing what she would like. Oftentimes, her exhaustion is mostly due to overexerting her weak body more than weakness itself. She is smart, and knows she needs her rest, but that doesn't stop her from fully enjoying the days she's well enough to romp around in the grass, or explore another block of city streets. Even one city block is still one block of unexplored possibilities and secret treasures to be found. She isn't exactly optimistic, she knows that there isn't treasure under every trash can, but she does know that treasure could be found in any place, at any time. Her grim future is forever on the distant reaches of her mind and she dislikes wasted time. She likes to be doing something always, if she can, even if it's only reading or hearing a story.
For a long time, her view of the outside world was very limited. She had only the gifts sent by her parents and tales from hospital-goers to go on. Azo heartily dislikes feeling cut-off from the world, especially in her condition. Even more, she detests the feeling that there are things people are purposely not telling her, though she has, over time, learned to hide that. She has learned that people will often reveal those secrets, given time and a proper listen. She enjoys asking others about the little bits about them that they try to hide. She will ask a nurse about her smudged mascara or a shopkeeper about the perfectly dusted and shined picture frame on the desk. Perhaps they won't tell the whole story to her face, but there are things to be learned from their sad gaze or the way they hug their arms.
She is very observant, preferring to sit by and watch the world, rather than participate in it. Though she looks for new experiences everywhere, she is certainly not the type to go out looking to involve herself. Azo has a finite amount of energy and it must be spent sparingly. Thus, she spends much of her time sitting and watching as things go by. One of her favorite past times is people watching. She loves to try and imagine where people are going, what they are thinking. After so many years of this, it isn't hard for her to do. She can fairly easily grasp the topics of conversations that she can't hear, a very useful skill when one needs to know what doctors are conversing about so intently. Though, even this can sometimes become boring, and she can sometimes be heard muttering her own lines for whatever conversations strangers might be having.
Though she is one to always seek out new things, that doesn't mean she spends every day looking for things to do. She likes to, when she can, but oftentimes, she is perfectly content to stay in and make her own fun, be it attempting to paint a picture or trying her hand at juggling. Azo is known to be quite resourceful, inventing clever ways to pass the time or crafty solutions to obstacles. She is not the sort of person to simply accept someone telling her she can't do something. Rather, she often takes a condemnation of that sort as a challenge for her to surpass and overcome. When her doctors said she should give up on leaving her hospital room, she worked twice as hard to be able to walk around the corner. When they said she may never make it outside of town, she went to the Lavaridge hot springs and laughed in their faces upon her return. This behavior, however, is a little dangerous, and many times Azo has grown ill or even collapsed due to her recklessness.
For all her livelihood, Azo is not particularly disposed to showing emotion. She'll smile when happy and frown when sad, yes, but she does not wear her heart on her sleeve and actually plays her cards quite close to her chest. It is actually quite difficult to discern what's going on behind her Vulpix-like facade and her mind is difficult to read. Sometimes, it seems her actions are straight out of left field and sometimes it seems so simple. She likes to keep her motives to herself and prefers to busy herself, and those around her, with the thoughts of others. In this, she is always careful to act properly and like a lady at all times.
History
Long ago, in a land far, far away, there lived a man and a woman. The man was a photographer, one who had made his fortune by photographing many rare plants and Pokémon all over the world. The woman was a gentle girl who used her patience and love for the world to cultivate the rare species the man found. Her gardens and skill with plant life were well known. They traveled the countries, looking for new and exciting things, their love for each other growing as their collections did. Finally, it was decided that their love needed something to pour into. How better to further enjoy their life and travels than to bring a child, their own flesh and blood, to experience the wonders that the vast world had to offer. They took a break, settling in Hoenn, to have their child. They chose Sootopolis City, adoring the rich history and fabulous locale.
When their daughter was born, the couple was overjoyed. They doted on their infant girl, giving her every pleasure, every ounce of happiness that they could. Her father named her Azonyll, for her bright, fuzzy hair, and her mother called her Brioche, invoking a good omen that she would never go hungry. For a time, it was like nothing could go wrong. They even took small trips together, so their daughter could get a taste for traveling. Camping in Petalburg Forest, weekends in Lavaridge Town to enjoy the hot springs, even botanical ventures to Fortree City, they were all made available to young Azo. She knew nothing of the cruelty of man and had only her parents unending love for company. She was happy, as happy as a young child could be. That is, until it was all taken away.
It started with just a cough, a sore throat that seemed never to go away. Allergies, her mother decided. She'd seen it before, too much pollen overloading the senses. A few weeks in clean, mountain air and Azo would be back to normal. Next came the fatigue, and with it, sleep that seemed to go on forever. Sometimes she'd stay in bed the whole day, too weak to even lift her head from the pillow. Then came the bruises. A simple tug on the wrist would leave a mark for a week. Tripping would make such painful bruises that she would be almost incapacitated. It was just a phase, her parents would say, half-crazed with worry. She'll get better as she grows up. It will be fine.
It wasn't.
At five years old, Azo was finally brought to the doctor for her worsening condition. His prognosis was not positive. First, he thought the problem was in her bones, causing her to be weak and easily hurt. A cancer, maybe? She was so young, but nothing was impossible. They searched every inch, intent on finding the little tumor causing all her problems, but none could be found. Next, they tried the brain. It controlled the whole body, after all. If the problem wasn't the bones, it had to be the brain. They spent years scouring Azo's brain, searching for clues, while her condition steadily deteriorated. By eight, she was hospital-bound, for the doctors feared for her safety should she be running around at home. By nine, she could barely leave her room to walk around the wings of Sootopol. By ten, it was difficult just to get out of bed.
It wasn't in her brain, the doctors decided. They were running out of options. Symptoms seemed to come out of nowhere and pass just as suddenly. She would cough until blood spurted from her lips, at which point she would have awful tremors that wracked her body. When those stopped, she was suddenly having blurred vision. It was insane, beyond any sort of disease or disorder yet presented. They found medicine to control her bruising, to curb her symptoms as they cropped up, all just to buy some time while they searched for the cause. Time wore on and Azo's parents had grown weary of hospitals and nurses and doctors who couldn't find help for their daughter. All they had wanted was someone to share their travels with, and they began to resent their time stuck in Sootopolis City. Azo understood, or tried to, and bid her parents to leave, to begin traveling again. The fight they put up was pitiful, even to them.
Only eleven and all alone in the big city, it was difficult for Azo to stay positive about her condition. She became depressed, sometimes even refusing treatment for lack of energy even to swallow pills. The days were dark and her future was grim, even the doctors believed she wouldn't make it to adulthood, let alone even puberty. What pulled her out from her deep pit were the kind words of her neighbors in the ward. The Prolonged Care Unit was usually a place where older folks went when their families could no longer meet their medical needs. In fact, she was, by far, the youngest patient there. When her parents still visited every day, she had payed little attention to her neighbors, but to occasionally stop and talk with them. Now that no one was coming to see her, she began to sit in the common room, listening to the endless stories the patients told. She was amazed.
It wasn't long before Azo became a permanent fixture with the older folks. They would offer her sweets, purloined from the kitchen or sent by their children, and invite her to sit with them and listen a while. While other children were getting their first Pokémon and leaving home, Azo was content to listen to the grand stories her friends told. Zachariah, a frail gentleman from Johto, was her favorite storyteller. He had been a trainer in his youth, had even gone so far as to challenge the champion. His stories were, by far, the most entertaining. He told of wild Tauros that would trample a man half to death, of Gengar and Mismagius who sucked your dreams from your head, of Parasect the size of cars that sent clouds of poison spores billowing into the air. His tales grew as Azo did, become elaborate and fanciful. She didn't care how much was true and how much wasn't, she loved being led to far away places by Zachariah and visiting them in her dreams. It was her escape.
She grew older, but her condition seemed to reach a plateau. By then, the doctors had managed to narrow their scope. It was a problem with the blood, they decided. Somehow, her blood cells weren't carrying enough proteins, or maybe too many proteins. Whatever it was, her blood was poisoning her body and all they could do was try to slow the progression. New medicines came out, trials for experimental drugs to help her symptoms. With help from her capsuled friends, she was able to walk around the hospital more energetically, even go outside now and again. Though it was hard to travel, herself, she had the others' stories to keep her company, and a never ending stream of gifts and souvenirs from her parents abroad.
Finally, when things seemed to be turning around for Azo, she received word that her parents had been in an accident. While hiking in the mountains, they had been caught in a landslide and died. Everyone expected Azo to slip back into her depressed state, but it never happened. In her fourteen years, she had learned much of life and death and the mortality of mankind. She had seen her friends pass peacefully in their sleep and painfully in bouts of blood and shaking. She knew that all things, plant, human, or Pokémon, died eventually; all that mattered was what you did with the time you were given. Her parents had lived a small life, but for their travels, and had worked hard for a long time, and so they left her a healthy sum of money. No one imagined she would live to be anywhere near their age, so the money far outweighed her medical bills. She finally had a means with which to experience the world she had heard so much about.
It took nearly a year of preparation, stress tests, surgeries, new medications, but she finally felt she was ready. Azo said farewell to her home, all the people who had taken care of her, raised her, and set off to travel as much as she could, while she still could.
Other
- It is quite difficult to get Azo to laugh. She will smile when she finds something amusing, even touch her fingertips to her lips as if she were laughing, but eliciting an actual laugh from her is difficult, though a manageable task. If accomplished, she has a very loud and not-so-ladylike laugh.
- At all times, Azo is careful to have a lady's items with her, even if she doesn't wear them. She wears gloves most times, but will often take them off out of annoyance. She usually has some kind of a jacket or wrap, though mostly for the cold. She is, however, never seen without stockings of some type. A lady can't be showing her legs all willy-nilly, after all.
- Azo tends to talk as though she's much older than she is. Like, fifty years older.
- She is rarely, if ever, seen without a heavy, silver wristwatch on her left wrist. It is too big for her and can be pulled off fairly simply. It belonged to Zachariah and was given to her as a going away present. She winds it every night before bed.
- She has a tattoo, which she goes to great lengths to keep hidden and private. It is a nickel-sized red star at the apex of her left hip which she had done by a traveling nurse in a period of good health.
- She wears jasmine perfume. Just a dab on either side of her neck.
Party Pokémon
[atrb=style,text-align:center, true] [atrb=cellspacing,15px, true][atrb=border,0,true]  "] |
| Nameless. male. |
| Level five. |
| Peck. Leer. |
RP Sample
It was early. The sun barely peaked over the horizon, sending fingers of gold light across the city. Ocean fog covered the houses, but the light was anxiously burning it off. Morning was almost here, after all, and fog needed to hurry along back to the ocean. Most people were still slumbering away, clinging to the receding hand of soothing sleep, but not one.
She squinted at the light that slipped through her window. She usually kept the curtains firmly shut, forbidding all light from entering until she had sufficiently rested, but this day was different. Her curtains trembled a little as sea breeze drifted through the cracked window. The salt settled in her nose and she pressed her cheek into the crisp, white, hospital-issue pillow. It smelled of bleach. It smelled of cleanliness. It smelled of biodegradable, all natural, chemical-free germ killing power.
Just like everyone else, it turned her stomach.
She set up and rubbed her eyes. It stung a little, but it pushed away her tiredness and she fumbled for the blankets. She looked like a waif in the pathetic hospital gown, but the coming day would be a welcome change of pace. Placed on the chair in her room were simple clothes, but they were some of her only, and she hungrily grabbed for them. She needed to get ready quickly. In fact, she was probably already late. Nurse Mary wasn't the most patient woman, but she liked to spoil the patients. Azo wasn't anxious to displease the woman and so she dressed quickly. A lady never wore breeches, that was what she had been taught, and she was likely to be caught and scolded on the way back. She begrudgingly dressed in a pale blue, cotton dress with long sleeves that came in around her wrist with little elastic stitches.
She sat on her bed to address her stockings, black and wool, but was distracted by the dress's neckline. She frowned and tied the string which adjusted it. She didn't like to think about her lacking... Womanly features. Her body had no fat to spare for such things, after all. Azo grumbled to herself and pulled on her stockings. When she stood again, the dress fell past her knees. When she was thirteen, she had taken in the waistline with a stapler, but still the dress was baggy on her. The sleeves were too long and the elastic was worn. Their ruffled hems came almost past her knuckles. The neckline sagged, though that was little problem for her. Her hips swam in fabric. She slid into her hospital slippers, faded purple Whismur slippers her mother had bought her years ago, and quietly slipped out the door.
The hall was quiet and she made sure not to disturb that. The night nurse, Miss Lacey, waved to her as she passed the nurses' station. Miss Lacey was only twenty-one and putting herself through school. She had red streaks in her blonde hair and snapped her gum at the doctors. Azo thought she was a rock star and waves back. She found her shoes in their cubby by the back door, little black loafers, and hurried out the door, leaving her slippers in their place.
Outside was Nurse Mary smoking a bent cigarette and analyzing her crossword puzzle. She grunted at Azo and turned to her car, a beat up sedan, her eyes not moving from her puzzle.
"Ten letters," she barked, "It's 'a colorful flower bred with tea; be careful!' " Nurse Mary took a long drag on her cigarette before letting it fall from her mouth. She stomped on the glowing butt as though it had offended her in some way.
"Floribunda?" Azo tried, as she opened the passenger door. Nurse Mary consulted the neighboring words and nodded. She pulled an unseen pen from behind her ear and filled it in. Azo had never known Nurse Mary to use a pencil.
Satisfied, the nurse folded up her newspaper and got into the car as well. A small nest of cigarette butts filled the ashtray, but she tried not to smoke so much around patients. There was no greeting, no kind good morning, only a tired grunt as Nurse Mary started the car. She was one of the daytime nurses, here early to pick up the shopping list she had forgotten and spoil Azo a little bit. The car started after a few tries and they were soon cruising down the street. Their destination was not far away and they would likely soon be done. Azo had already memorized the address of the place she was looking for.
421 Maple Street.
The grocery store was 419. They parked and Nurse Mary lit a new cigarette. Azo had until she was finished shopping to come back to the car and she was not allowed to go more than a block away. That suited her fine, the place she was going was right across the street and there was no traffic so early. She hurried away from Nurse Mary's smoke signals and came to the All Hours Diner. Some letters in the neon sign over the door had burned out and the paint seemed to be chipping, but she held steady. She had a mission, after all.
A bell jingled overhead when she entered, but the only patrons at that hour were a few truckers and a cabbie. Azo sat at the bar and waited for the overworked waitress to saunter over. She looked to be about thirty and she had more than a few grey hairs. Azo didn't doubt she was waiting for her shift to end so she could get some sleep, and vowed to be as painless as possible.
"Do you have any Pecha pie left?" she asked sweetly, after refusing the menu. The woman raised an eyebrow.
"Ain't been on th' menu f'r 'bout fifteen years," the waitress, Dottie, declared. Azo eyed her nametag while Dottie rubbed her temples. Obviously this was not a common request. "I'll ask," she conceded, turning to lean her arm on the counter behind her. "Earl!" she barked, her free hand finding its way to her jutting hip. "Earl! You got 'ny Pecha pie left?!" There was some silence followed by a muffled shout from the back. Azo remained patient.
There was more silence, then the sound of pans being rattled, and finally a small, white dish was deposited on the counter with a crumbly piece of pie on it. Dottie set it in front of Azo with a glass of milk. "Can't eat pie wit'out milk."
Azo agreed and dug in, enjoying the flavor. Milly, from the east wing, had been right; this really was the best pie ever. Even with Azo's small, weak bites, the pie quickly disappeared, and the milk after it. Dottie was gossiping with a trucker on the other end of bar, so Azo found the five dollars she'd hidden in her shoe and set it under the milk glass before getting up to leave. She called out her thanks as she slipped out the door and hurried back across the street. Nurse Mary was just putting her paper bag into the backseat as Azo sat down. The gruff woman gave her a once-over to assess any possible damage.
"You've got pie on your lip," was all she said.
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