JONES, winifred "fred" aisling

[fred jones]

winifred “fred” aisling jones

”Hoots mon!”

REMEMBERING THE PAST

>>full name: Winifred Aisling Jones
>>nicknames: Fred, ‘Braveheart’ by some particularly irritating classmates
>>date of birth: August 24th 1994
>>date of change: N/A
>>hometown: Paisley, Scotland
>>species: Human
>>abilities: N/A

TRANSITIONING

>>height: 5’10”
>>weight: 120 lbs
>>hair: Red
>>eyes: Blue
>>general appearance:
Tall, pale, ginger; Fred’s always had a bit of a chip on her shoulder about these aspects of her physic. She used to be teased for her height, especially in those awkward early teen years when she wasn’t quite as graceful as she would later become. Her brilliant red hair was also a point of scorn, one she took greater offense to, for she liked, and still likes, her hair. It is long, reaching mid-way down her back, and can be either straight or lightly curled with the right assistance. Her face has been described as moon shaped something she has still not decided on whether or not this was a polite comment, but could not deny its truth. Fred has always enjoyed an effortlessly slim figure.
>>face claim: Karen Gillan

THE CHANGE

>>likes:

• Her independence
  
• Her friends
  
• Books
  
• Movies
  
• Science fiction
  
• Skipping school
  
• Rain, and its smell
  
• Snow
  
• Scotland
  
• Driving

>>dislikes:

• Being told what to do
  
• School
  
• Boredom
  
• Heights
  
• Rodents
  
• Therapists
  
• Bullies
  
• Brainlessness
  
• Being cold
  
• Cooking

>>strengths:

• Resourceful
  
• Tough
  
• Optimistic

>>weaknesses:

• Proud
  
• Moody
  
• Relentless

>>habits/quirks:

• Run a strand of hair through her fingers when she’s bored or anxious
  
• Names inanimate objects

>>fears:

• Being helpless
  
• Learning that she’s actually crazy

>>secrets:

• When she was a little girl, Fred had an imaginary friend— only she knows, deep down where she won’t consciously admit it, that he wasn’t imaginary at all.

>>personality:
Fred’s a fighter. She’s tough, with world class endurance, a strong spirit, and an optimistic streak that can be downright annoying at times. While Fred has no problem making friends, she does have some trust issues, and some abandonment issues that she is reluctantly aware of and, on her better days, does try to overcome. She’s resourceful, capable of taking care of herself in nearly any situation, and takes pride in this fact.

Pride, however, can be one of her bigger failing. She often find herself to proud to ask for help, especially due to her struggle to remain self-reliant. She can always brag up a storm, an irritating winner and an even sorer loser.

While she loved reading and self-directed study, Fred is not a very good student, finding herself very often bored with class and counting down the minutes of the clock until she can leave. And while she detests romantic comedies and doesn’t see the point of horror films, she’s a down-right buff when it comes to science fiction movies, though unlike many others of this fandom she likes them for their historically cheesy special effects, their ridiculous plot mcguffins, and the real world issues they try to convey.

BEFORE THE BITE

>>mother: Abigail Eleanor Jones, 42, deceased
>>father: Russell Arthur Jones, 43, deceased
>>siblings:None
>>other: Susan Ceilidh Williams, maiden aunt, 48, general surgeon
>>history:
Fred is Scottish. She was born in Scotland, as were her parents, and their parents, and theirs, going back generations. Fred was raised with a pride in this fact, and taught to always live up to that pride. So how was it that this proud Paisley girl ended up in a small town in the Olympic Peninsula of the United States? Were Fred one with a flair for the dramatic, she may have stated it was a tale of tragedy. But Fred is a realist, or so she likes to believe, and she knows that what happened was just life, in all its random complexity, every happenstance capable of triggering a myriad of emotions. But we’ll get to that later. What comes first is the story of Fred’s imaginary friend.

Fred has always been spirited. In other words, she’s always found a way to do what she wanted, and one night, when she was six, she found herself determined to catch a fairy. The best way to go about this, as any experienced fairy hunter knew, was to go into the forest in the middle of the night with a saucer of cream, offer it to the fairies, wait until they came to drink, then throw a net over them. It was a straight forward plan, one which was proceeding nicely until they came: the monster and her guardian.

She was standing behind a tree, peering out around it at the saucer in anticipation, when she heard the strange sound. It was like the wind, but louder, a wooshing that was going stronger until it abruptly stopped. And then her appeared; the monster. He was beautiful, with golden hair and an angelic face. But Fred remained wary, for she was not a thick girl, and she knew not to trust strangers. The monster asked her what her name was, and she told him. He asked her why she was out in the forest so late at night. Fred lied and told him she was out for a walk with her mother. The monster knew she was lying, but smiled at her anyways. He told her she looked lost, and that if she wanted he’d help her find her mother. He held out his hand, and his face was imploring, reassuring, coaching her to trust him, and she would have had their not been some deep, niggling feeling. Perhaps it was the desperation in which he wanted her to trust him. Perhaps it was the hungry look in his dark eyes as he watched her with predatory intensity. Whatever the reason, prideful little Winifred Jones, turned tail and ran as fast as she could.

Some part of her knew that the monster was just toying with her by letting her run, that if he wanted he could have her within seconds, but she ran anyways. She would not go quietly. She would run and fight and be brave, just like her mommy and daddy always told her to do. But she couldn’t run forever, and she began to get fatigued and disoriented. She tripped and fell, and when she looked up the monster was kneeling in front of her, and Fred knew those eyes were the last things she’d see as she closed her own and braced herself.

And nothing happened. Well, nothing happened to her, but the world around her erupted with noise. There was growling, deep and feral but unlike any animal she had ever heard. There were bangs, the scrapping clatter of one rock hitting another, and a final, screeching rip silenced the scene. The whole time Fred kept her eyes closed, and didn’t open them until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and a soft voice telling her everything was alright. She opened her eyes and she saw him, her guardian, her protector, her imaginary friend.

There was a fire a few feet away, the contents of which she knew to be the monster and knew she did not care. The new man reminded her of the monster. He was completely like him, and nothing alike at the same time. Whatever strange creature the thing that had chased her, that was what this new man was, yet looking into his yellow eyes, she was without fear of him.

He walked her home that night. As they walked, they talked, and the more they talked, the more Fred liked him. He made her laugh and feel safe, just the things she needed after the incident before, and when they reached her house, she never wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay, to be her best mate, to go on adventures with him (for she knew he had to be an adventurer). The only way she would let go of his hand when he tucked her into bed was if he promised to see her the next night. He promised, and she promptly went to sleep.

The next night she ran out into the woods, in her best jacket and Wellies, and waited. And waited. And waited. She fell asleep waiting, panicking her parents who came out to find her when they discovered her missing that morning. They asked her what she was thinking, running off alone in the woods when all those other children had gone missing in the area. They were furious. They carried her screaming from the woods, insisting that she couldn’t leave.

She returned to the woods the next night, and the one after that, until her parents were forced to lock her into her room at night. Oh, how she raged when they did that. She screamed and cried and pounded her cubby fists against the doors all through the night. She broke down one night and told them why she had to go, that she had to see her guardian. Her parents got very worried then.

They took her to psychiatrists. She went through about four. They kept telling her that he wasn’t real and she would fight them every moment, even biting a couple of them on three separate occasions. No progress was made. It all became so hopeless.

Then the accident happened. It had been two years since she’d met her guardian, almost to the day. They went quickly, that was always a comfort. The truck hit them head on. Fred stopped talking about her guardian that day. She told the therapists she knew he was imaginary, leaving fairies and monsters and angel in fiction, where they’d always belonged.

She went into the custody of her aunt Susan, and Susan, feeling a change was needed for her niece and having been offered jobs in America a number of times, decided to move. Susan shuffled between a few hospitals before settling in Forks, but when they did settle, they never left. Fred grew up into the young woman she is today, a tough little realist. No more imaginary.

OUT OF CHARACTER

>>alias: Bad Wolf
>>age: Nineteen
>>experience: Six years, on and off
>>other characters: Kitty Pym, Elena Cortez
>>how to contact you: PM
>>how you found us: Site surfing
>>did you read the rules? Uh-huh

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roleplay sample:

See Kitty’s bio

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