Post by Saoirse Doyle on Jul 30, 2011 20:28:00 GMT -5
Name:
Saoirse (SAYR.sha) Doyle
Age:
24
Date of Birth:
6th December
Team Favorite Color: BLU(e), clearly
Gender:
Female Languages: English, Gaelic
Sexuality: Unsure, could be swayed either way probably
Loadout:
Primary – Flamethrower
Secondary – Flaregun
Melee – Axtinguisher
Personality:
Perhaps a good word or two to start with would be “on edge”; like a skittish horse, loud and sudden noises or movements cause her to jump and often act strike out at the source violently. This behaviour is probably caused by years of running from police and waiting for bombs to go off. Her gaze is almost always shifting around, and her left eye twitches every now and then; while her uneasiness may make her seem a perfect target for spies, her slight paranoia makes her acutely aware of other presences and so finding spies is made a little easier.
Despite her paranoid tendencies she is quite outgoing, she will introduce herself to people she’s never met before, and easily strike up a conversation with someone. However Saoirse isn’t very good in close and personal situations, and so has troubles opening up to people and forming legitimate relationships. This is one of many reasons why she’s been single for some time. Saoirse understands the importance of a team and so tries to get on with her teammates as best she can and keep spirits up, even if things don’t always go to plan.
On the battle field she is a lot more serious and as mentioned previously; paranoid. If she hears the slightest noise when she is alone she will spy check around her. Saoirse is quite good at ambushing; setting up traps seems to almost be a hobby of hers.
History:
The third child in a family of seven, Saoirse was raised in a poor district of Dublin, Ireland and has had Christianity pounded into her since she was born. Her father was a devout Roman Catholic and member of the IRA and consequently moved the family to Belfast when she was ten to get a “Real taste a th’a action!” Yes indeed her childhood was filled with explosions and acts of terrorism, the number of times the local corner shop was set on fire went into double digits. Because of her father, she has very strong views concerning Ireland and an intense loathing of English politians and the monarchy. At the age of twelve, her father having died in a riot by being trampled; the family moved back to Dublin in a last ditch attempt to have a normal life and her mother remarried.
Her new father was a very nice person, and tried to wash away most of the violent opinions her birth father had given her, but was only met with scorn on Saoirse’s part. Eventually, the relationship improved, and she learned to trust him. Her eldest brother however, found no such trust and stormed off to Belfast to fight the English swine.
Regardless, Saoirse took it upon herself to go and find her brother when she was 14, running away from home and taking everything she could on a bus. Her brother however was less than pleased to see her and although he let her stay with him, she was treated with extreme disdain. When she turned 18 she was deemed old enough and so was dragged around on “jobs” for the IRA, and one fateful night when they were due to burn down a small shop, Saoirse was caught in the flames and was taken to the hospital. Most of her body was now coated in second and first degree burns and her brother was nowhere to be found, presumably consumed in the fire himself. She was sent back to an extremely displeased family in Dublin.
The next few years were spent locked in her room, discretely setting fire to things without letting other members of the family notice. Since the incident her obsession with fire grew greatly and Saoirse now gazed into the flames with awe. By the time she hit 20 she had moved out, now living in a tiny flat above a pub and was committing acts of arson almost every day but still going to church on Sundays like a good Christian girl, it was ingrained into her system, no matter how much she disliked it. Saoirse even received a small amount of fame for her “works”, however just after she had turned 24 she was caught by the police and just as she was about to be sent to jail, Builders’ League United offered her a job; and Saoirse gladly accepted.
Appearance:
Saoirse’s hair is very dark, and falls in thick black waves that have been cropped to a “boy cut”, except her fringe can be slicked or clipped back to make a small quiff, which is something she often does. Where her skin is not scarred, it is a plain milk bottle white, made to look a little paler in contrast with her hair. Her lips are quite full, a trait that she picked up from her mother as well as her eyes, which are a grey-blue and don’t really stand out that much, but always look rather sad.
However where there are burn scars the colour varies; some are new and are sore and bright pink while the older scars are a slightly tan colour, making Saoirse look a little like a rag doll. The burns extend to a number of places, yet her face is mostly untouched apart from where a burn on her neck creeps up to the right side of her face; consuming her ear and just reaching her cheekbone. Her cheeks are normally rosy, far from a constant blush but rather a simple matter of complexion. Her nose is thin but long, but looks a little out of kink because it’s been broken once or twice and she has a small cleft in her chin. Her face is heart-shaped, with a narrow jaw and a wide forehead and cheekbones. If anyone were to observe, they would see that Saoirse has a pear shaped figure; wide hips and a slightly narrower chest and she stands at five foot seven; her torso is longer than her legs. She is quite toned when it comes to muscles, years of carrying a flamethrower and various other pyrotechnic related implements have kept her quite fit, despite that she has chubby thighs. Underneath the suit she often wears a tank top and shorts, since it can get rather hot in there, and this is also what she can be seen kicking about the base in as fashion has never been a major concern for her but she has always been secretly envious of girls who have tons of expensive clothing, because that is something she could never afford. She also wears a white rosary that was given to her by her mother.
Image:
First person sample:
I hate trains. Especially that one. How on earth can anyone enjoy that noise? That discomfort? The waiting for the journey to end? How long had I been sitting on that blood train to actually arrive at the god forsaken swamp? Never mind, the answer is always too long ... That driver was awfully quiet, I guess he wasn't exactly having the time of his life either, I supposed he know when we were going to finally come to a stop, so I asked him:
"Uh, excuse me, but we wouldn't be 'appenin' ta be comin' ta a stop any time soon would we?" No answer. Slumping back into my seat I looked at the blurred view outside the window. It was pouring with rain naturally, and I flicked open my lighter to hold the flame to the fabric of the seat next to me; I wondered if we would arrive before the chair was utterly torched.
Third person sample:
Saoirse's body shuddered as she slumped into the base, a few bullets were resting in one of her arms and if she could just make it back to respawn then she could grab medicine. Her throat was sore, but she had been calling for Medic, who was probably busy with everyone else to find her. Groaning uneasily, she dragged her flame thrower after failing to support it with one hand. She knew she was tougher than this. Why was she being such a baby? Gritting her teeth in pain, she forced herself to carry her flamethrower the normal way, and carried on.
Cologne. The smell of it burned in her nostrils and strangled her brain for a second or two. Someone was following her. Saoirse swerved around, moving the flamethrower in an arc before pointing it at seemly empty air. Silence.
Suddenly her brain was stormed with visions of being horrifically maimed and tortured by the RED team and if only she had caught whoever was following her now. They were coming for her, they were out to get her, they knew what she was thinking.
In a frenzied panic she unleashed a flurry of flames on the space in front of her, and she cackled behind the mask as she thought she caught a glimpse of a silhouette in the fire.
Saoirse (SAYR.sha) Doyle
Age:
24
Date of Birth:
6th December
Gender:
Female Languages: English, Gaelic
Sexuality: Unsure, could be swayed either way probably
Loadout:
Primary – Flamethrower
Secondary – Flaregun
Melee – Axtinguisher
Personality:
Perhaps a good word or two to start with would be “on edge”; like a skittish horse, loud and sudden noises or movements cause her to jump and often act strike out at the source violently. This behaviour is probably caused by years of running from police and waiting for bombs to go off. Her gaze is almost always shifting around, and her left eye twitches every now and then; while her uneasiness may make her seem a perfect target for spies, her slight paranoia makes her acutely aware of other presences and so finding spies is made a little easier.
Despite her paranoid tendencies she is quite outgoing, she will introduce herself to people she’s never met before, and easily strike up a conversation with someone. However Saoirse isn’t very good in close and personal situations, and so has troubles opening up to people and forming legitimate relationships. This is one of many reasons why she’s been single for some time. Saoirse understands the importance of a team and so tries to get on with her teammates as best she can and keep spirits up, even if things don’t always go to plan.
On the battle field she is a lot more serious and as mentioned previously; paranoid. If she hears the slightest noise when she is alone she will spy check around her. Saoirse is quite good at ambushing; setting up traps seems to almost be a hobby of hers.
History:
The third child in a family of seven, Saoirse was raised in a poor district of Dublin, Ireland and has had Christianity pounded into her since she was born. Her father was a devout Roman Catholic and member of the IRA and consequently moved the family to Belfast when she was ten to get a “Real taste a th’a action!” Yes indeed her childhood was filled with explosions and acts of terrorism, the number of times the local corner shop was set on fire went into double digits. Because of her father, she has very strong views concerning Ireland and an intense loathing of English politians and the monarchy. At the age of twelve, her father having died in a riot by being trampled; the family moved back to Dublin in a last ditch attempt to have a normal life and her mother remarried.
Her new father was a very nice person, and tried to wash away most of the violent opinions her birth father had given her, but was only met with scorn on Saoirse’s part. Eventually, the relationship improved, and she learned to trust him. Her eldest brother however, found no such trust and stormed off to Belfast to fight the English swine.
Regardless, Saoirse took it upon herself to go and find her brother when she was 14, running away from home and taking everything she could on a bus. Her brother however was less than pleased to see her and although he let her stay with him, she was treated with extreme disdain. When she turned 18 she was deemed old enough and so was dragged around on “jobs” for the IRA, and one fateful night when they were due to burn down a small shop, Saoirse was caught in the flames and was taken to the hospital. Most of her body was now coated in second and first degree burns and her brother was nowhere to be found, presumably consumed in the fire himself. She was sent back to an extremely displeased family in Dublin.
The next few years were spent locked in her room, discretely setting fire to things without letting other members of the family notice. Since the incident her obsession with fire grew greatly and Saoirse now gazed into the flames with awe. By the time she hit 20 she had moved out, now living in a tiny flat above a pub and was committing acts of arson almost every day but still going to church on Sundays like a good Christian girl, it was ingrained into her system, no matter how much she disliked it. Saoirse even received a small amount of fame for her “works”, however just after she had turned 24 she was caught by the police and just as she was about to be sent to jail, Builders’ League United offered her a job; and Saoirse gladly accepted.
Appearance:
Saoirse’s hair is very dark, and falls in thick black waves that have been cropped to a “boy cut”, except her fringe can be slicked or clipped back to make a small quiff, which is something she often does. Where her skin is not scarred, it is a plain milk bottle white, made to look a little paler in contrast with her hair. Her lips are quite full, a trait that she picked up from her mother as well as her eyes, which are a grey-blue and don’t really stand out that much, but always look rather sad.
However where there are burn scars the colour varies; some are new and are sore and bright pink while the older scars are a slightly tan colour, making Saoirse look a little like a rag doll. The burns extend to a number of places, yet her face is mostly untouched apart from where a burn on her neck creeps up to the right side of her face; consuming her ear and just reaching her cheekbone. Her cheeks are normally rosy, far from a constant blush but rather a simple matter of complexion. Her nose is thin but long, but looks a little out of kink because it’s been broken once or twice and she has a small cleft in her chin. Her face is heart-shaped, with a narrow jaw and a wide forehead and cheekbones. If anyone were to observe, they would see that Saoirse has a pear shaped figure; wide hips and a slightly narrower chest and she stands at five foot seven; her torso is longer than her legs. She is quite toned when it comes to muscles, years of carrying a flamethrower and various other pyrotechnic related implements have kept her quite fit, despite that she has chubby thighs. Underneath the suit she often wears a tank top and shorts, since it can get rather hot in there, and this is also what she can be seen kicking about the base in as fashion has never been a major concern for her but she has always been secretly envious of girls who have tons of expensive clothing, because that is something she could never afford. She also wears a white rosary that was given to her by her mother.
Image:
First person sample:
I hate trains. Especially that one. How on earth can anyone enjoy that noise? That discomfort? The waiting for the journey to end? How long had I been sitting on that blood train to actually arrive at the god forsaken swamp? Never mind, the answer is always too long ... That driver was awfully quiet, I guess he wasn't exactly having the time of his life either, I supposed he know when we were going to finally come to a stop, so I asked him:
"Uh, excuse me, but we wouldn't be 'appenin' ta be comin' ta a stop any time soon would we?" No answer. Slumping back into my seat I looked at the blurred view outside the window. It was pouring with rain naturally, and I flicked open my lighter to hold the flame to the fabric of the seat next to me; I wondered if we would arrive before the chair was utterly torched.
Third person sample:
Saoirse's body shuddered as she slumped into the base, a few bullets were resting in one of her arms and if she could just make it back to respawn then she could grab medicine. Her throat was sore, but she had been calling for Medic, who was probably busy with everyone else to find her. Groaning uneasily, she dragged her flame thrower after failing to support it with one hand. She knew she was tougher than this. Why was she being such a baby? Gritting her teeth in pain, she forced herself to carry her flamethrower the normal way, and carried on.
Cologne. The smell of it burned in her nostrils and strangled her brain for a second or two. Someone was following her. Saoirse swerved around, moving the flamethrower in an arc before pointing it at seemly empty air. Silence.
Suddenly her brain was stormed with visions of being horrifically maimed and tortured by the RED team and if only she had caught whoever was following her now. They were coming for her, they were out to get her, they knew what she was thinking.
In a frenzied panic she unleashed a flurry of flames on the space in front of her, and she cackled behind the mask as she thought she caught a glimpse of a silhouette in the fire.