Post by maggie o'keefe on Mar 6, 2012 22:05:16 GMT -5
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magdalene aisling o’keefe
don’t remind me.
i’m a chickadee in love with the sky.
that’s clearly not a lot to crow about.
REMEMBERING THE PAST
>>full name: magdalene aisling o’keefe
>>nicknames: maggie, mag, mini-mag, keefie.
>>date of birth: may 1oth, 1832
>>date of change: january 17th, 1847
>>hometown: midleton, ireland.
>>species: vampire
>>abilities: maggie has the ability to tell when another is fibbing; a walking lie detector. She can also tell if someone is betraying their true emotions by their appearance and actions. say, someone hits another person but doesn’t want to. maggie would be able to detect that.
TRANSITIONING
>>height: 5’1
>>weight: 97 pounds.
>>hair: maggie has thick red ringlets, brushing her shoulder blades. they are soft and bouncy, and simply dare anyone to touch them.
>>eyes: maggie’s eyes are the typical vampire’s; an intense scarlet.
>>general appearance: The first thing people typically notice about Maggie is her height. Clocking in at five feet and one inch, she is very much on the short side and most people tower over her. However, she uses her petite body to her advantage. She is quick and nimble, easily able to scoot her way past any enemy and hide herself in tiny niches in cliffs. Her face is endearing and childlike, always blessed with a slight smile. She has high cheekbones and lovely doe-eyes. Glowing alabaster skin covers her tiny body, the perfect complexion of a vampire that was fair in their human life.
Another noticeable feature is her hair. She was very well-known in her village (and feared by her siblings) because of her curly tresses. Maggie was known as a rua, or red-haired one. It was a title scorned and mocked, though today people always talk about how they love her vibrant crimson ringlets and ask if they have been dyed. It has always been a no; she refuses to touch her bouncy tresses with anything but a brush.
Maggie’s eyes used to be a jaded green, another reason her family wondered if she was a witch. After her changing, her irises switched to bright scarlet, which has gradually faded to almost burgundy over time.
>>face claim: jane levy
THE CHANGE
>>likes:
-children
-classic romance movies
-swimming
-dancing
-aquariums
-the taste of human blood
-her hair
-drawing pictures of her sister darcy
-visiting america
-playing twister
>>dislikes:
-screamo music
-vampires that enjoy killing humans
-monopoly
-when Siobhan is really protective
-depressing movies
-dogs
-mean people
-big purses
-when people are angry at her.
-writing essays
>>strengths:
-eluding people
-persuasion
-agility
>>weaknesses:
-strength
-hates when she doesn’t get what she wants
-naive
>>habits/quirks:
-chewing on stuff
-bouncing up and down
-brushing her hair
>>fears:
-anything happening to siobhan or liam.
-deserts
-being abandoned again
>>secrets:
-her own mother attempted to kill her when she was very young
-she likes to pretend she’s still a human and make breakfast every morning, then use it as compost.
-she is actually curious about the cullens’ lifestyle.
>>personality:
Typically, Maggie acts like a girl, not the lady her family considered her in her time.
The childlike trait has never worn off in all her 150+ years, leaving her innocent but whiny. It is astounding how she resembles a little girl in both her appearance and personality. Talkative and clingy, she is attached to her covenmates, who to her are as important as parents. Maggie is quite a cheerful soul, never shy, especially when friends.
One thing to keep in mind about Maggie is that she loves everyone. Or at least she acts like it. Often times she tells her acquaintances that they’re her best friend or want to follow them around all the time. Most of the time it’s just cute, but some people consider her clingy and immature and her adoring attitude towards her friends annoying. She is quite obviously naïve and childlike, probably since her own childhood wasn’t much of one, and now that she has someone that would care for her as a mother, she feels to need to act younger.
Maggie acts spoiled, but not by her human parents. No, far from that. Siobhan and Liam barely did anything either. Here’s your answer: she’s not. She acts like it because she wants people to see her as a rotten child. Why would she want such a bad reputation? Simple; because it tempts them to spoil her themselves. Clever, eh? One bat of her long, thick lashes will get her what she wants from most people. It’s quite a fun thing to act as.
To put Maggie in a good light, she isn’t a completely whiny, clingy little girl, like most people assume she is. Her personality falls into all those categories, yes, but it is far from all she is. She is happy and kind, rarely raising her voice or speaking harshly. A generous soul, she will give even if it isn’t hers to give. To her prey, which is any human not from Emyvale, Maggie is very civilized towards them, usually knocking them out before she drank their blood, which she did quickly. She does not taunt or torture them, or call them stupid or silly, because she remembers when she was just like them.
BEFORE THE BITE
>>mother: brigid maebh (quinn) o’keefe, fifty-eight at death, housewife
>>father: monroe patrick o’keefe, seventy at death, farmer
>>siblings: kane monroe o’keefe, brother, sixty-seven at death, farmer
fallon gael o’keefe, sister, forty-four at death, housewife
darcy fiona o’keefe, sister, ninety-seven at death, schoolteacher
patrick desmond o’keefe, brother, eighty-five at death, doctor
>>other: maebh ‘mamo’ bronagh quinn, maternal grandmother, seventy-four at death, housewife
ciaran hugh quinn, seventy-eight at death, merchant
>>history:
translations-
mathair- mother
athair- father
mamo- granny
daideo- granddad
rath de ort- the grace of god be with you
dun du bheal- shut your mouth
croi milis- sweet heart
pratai- potatoes
Brigid Quinn was a lovely young girl, with thick brown curls and sapphire eyes that always seemed to move like the sea. Her parents both born in England, she had the looks of a British Gentlewoman instead of the middle-class Irish lass that she felt like. Monroe O’Keefe found the difference attractive and unique, and married her for it. They did not have the best relationship, Brigid always taking back and Monroe occasionally hitting her, but it provided much money to Brigid and many children to Monroe so they both stuck with it.
On the eve of Thanksgiving Brigid bore her first child- a healthy son, as Monroe had longed for. For a time they were very affectionate to each other, but that presently wore off into the old bitterness once again. Kane’s first year of life was endlessly spoiled and made undoubtedly loyal to his parents and no other. Another year passed, and a wonderful, gorgeous little girl was delivered to the young family. Fallon was the darling of her father and was doted on endlessly by her mother, her dark curls flawlessly matching the woman’s who birthed her and chocolate eyes copies of her father’s. Three years passed, a trifling time of stress and many miscarriages and two still-births on Brigid’s part. But before Monroe could abandon her, she gave him twins- a plain and big-boned girl named Darcy and a sickly male called Patrick, or Paddy. Darcy was awkwardly tall and a bit on the chubby side, but always told the best stories. Paddy was a virtuoso and a loner, preferring the family’s fat ginger cat than any of the humans.
And then, through a long and painful birth, came Magdalene.
The youngest child emerged screaming quite loudly from her mother, a mess of crimson curls perched like a crown atop her head and delivering a swift kick in the jaw to the midwife. Brigid took her awkwardly into her own arms, noticing that her child was not the English belle that she wanted, but a fiery Irish lassie whose violence could not add up to her hyperactivity.
Fallon, upon holding her for the first time ‘accidently’ dug her fingernails into the girl’s back, leaving a scar and bloodstains on the rocking chair. The eldest sister did not want this new child to become her father’s favorite, nor be a lovely as Fallon herself. Kane avoided her all-together, Paddy was mainly apathetic, and Darcy absolutely adored her. The parents were both mildly disappointed that they had not received a quiet, sweet child like Darcy or a schmoozer like Fallon, though Monroe was secretly proud of his vivacious little daughter for her inextinguishable spirit.
As Maggie grew older, she developed a trait that could not be explained. The uncanny ability to sense when one as lying. It made it’s first significant appearance when Maggie was four years old, already riding a donkey and shoveling manure like her oldest brother and youngest sister. Paddy was usually sick inside or just kept in by his fretful mother, and Fallon simply refused to get her pretty clothes dirty. Maggie perched on a hay-bale inside the barn, Darcy up in the loft dusting and Kane brushing his magnificent stallion. “I know what you did, Kaney.” Maggie grinned innocently at her brother, who leand back and glared at her. “What, Magdalene?” He muttered, mistaking those words for his younger sibling’s endless chatter.
“You stole Paddy’s penny whistle.”
“How did you know? You were at Mamo and Daideo’s.”
“You told Mummy you didn’t. And you lied.”
Kane rolled his eyes. “Athair told you to call her Mathair. And anyway, how did you know I was-”
“Dun du bheal, Kane. I just knew. It’s a…feeling.” Said the four-year-old, narrowing her eyes and stunning her brother.
“Great God.” The eldest of the family whispered, before taking off towards the house screaming, ‘Witch! Witch!’
Brigid had been washing clothes on the porch, Fallon perched beside her eating a small cake that her father had purchased just for her, whipping anyone who ate even a nibble of one. Kane quickly informed his mother of Maggie’s statement, and she threw the clothes she had been holding into the basin with a vicious sneer on her lips. “I’m not surprised. She does have red hair and green eyes.”
“You mean she’s a rua.” Fallon corrected, gnawing on her cake.
“Precisely.” The mother whispered, just as Maggie came bounding down the lawn and towards the steps. Brigid stood and picked up the basin, smiling sickeningly at the youngest of the family. “Magdalene. We are going to get fresh water for washing from the creek. Come.” She yanked one of her child’s braids savagely, pushing her along roughly into the woods. Maggie had no inkling of what was to come. “Look Mummy!” She cried, pointing to a small toad splayed out on a rock. “Lovely, Magdalene.”
Once near the end of the creek, Brigid set down the basin and smiled at the four-year-old. “Come embrace me, my child.” Without hesitation, the girl ran into her mother’s arms and buried her face in her neck. A prick of remorse stabbed at Brigid, but she pushed it away. This witch would kill her other children, her dear Fallon and strong Kane. This devil child would ruin the O’Keefes, and this thought urged her to grasp her fragile little baby by the neck and duck her underneath the water.
At first Magdalene thought her mother was just giving her a bath, and shook her loose curls around happily. But second later, as Maggie stuck her hand out of the liquid to signal that she was running out of breath. But it did nothing. Her mother’s cold hands stayed clasped about her neck. Wildly the tiny child writhed and splashed, kicking Brigid in the chest and yelling the words ‘Stop Mummy!’ but being thrown under once again. Maggie did not hear them for her ears were clogged with water. But Brigid could faintly hear little Darcy, Patrick, and her husband trooping towards the creek. With one spiteful glance at her dying daughter, she released her and watched as the little girl she had given birth to thrash around once and throw her head above the surface, gasping with the effort. She placed her hands on her chest, as if to hold herself together, and coughed madly, while Brigid fakely patted her back. “If you tell anyone,” She hissed, “I swear you will disappear off the face of this earth.” Maggie nodded silently, rushing into her father’s arms as soon as he appeared. “What happened?” He asked curiously, balancing his tiny, wet daughter on his hip and trying to hush her high-pitched cries. Darcy slowly took her into her own and rocked her soothingly back and forth.
“She tripped.” Brigid lied cunningly, picking up her washbasin and following her family out of the woods. Paddy flashed a glance that she could not read back at her, later identifying it as disbelief.
As Maggie grew older, her ability became more pronounced. Her father’s love for her vanished , and he beat her every time she pointed out a lie. Sometimes he would just lie to have an excuse to see the blood welt up on her back, hear her agonized cries. Brigid would stand in the room and simply smile as her daughter screamed and howled in pain, wailing loudly for Darcy. Darcy would usually be sitting, silently sobbing and holding onto Paddy for comfort, who himself was beginning to feel sympathy for his youngest sister. The other two O’Keefe children huddled near a chink in the wall, watching and clapping their hands wildly as little Maggie suffered.
Afterwards, a snuffling Maggie and a sad Darcy would go washing clothes by the creek, and Darcy would wash and bandage her sister’s wounds, breaking out into tears whenever her patient whimpered. The two would make up stories about how one day they would run away one day, and set fire to the farm and personally trap their parents and eldest siblings in the cellar and whip them as they whipped Maggie.
The O’Keefes owned a huge farm passed down from Monroe’s parents, and had a small cottage built for Brigid’s aging parents, whom Maggie adored and always lingering with. Her grandmother, Maebh Quinn, or Mamo, openly disapproved of her daughter’s blatant abuse of her own child, and always tried to keep little Maggie away from them and often invited her over simply to keep her away from her parents.
It was the winter of 1845. The dreaded year that all Irish cringe to hear. This was the time that Maggie noticed the leaves on the potatoes that the family so survived on and sold for their purity had withered leaves and a strange stench. The skin was a sickly green color and the potatoes themselves were lumpy and distorted, and the inside was brown and rotten.
They sold the crop to the poor, they ate it themselves, they hired people to pick them, and now it was gone.
For the entire year, the O’Keefe’s were in a frenzy, barely having enough money to survive and frantically producing barley and oats to get by. At last, at the anniversary of the first appearance of the blight, the family sold all their land except for a small patch of corn and oats and the home of the Mamo and Daideo. They told the children that they were going to move to America, and made them pack up their things and load them onto a Monroe’s horse and buggy. Though, the parents never revealed the fact to Maggie, only Darcy did, and at that time Maggie’s ability would only detect lies if the speaker knew that they were fibbing. So even the youngest packed her clothes and readied herself for the migration to the Great US of A.
On the morning that they were supposed to be on their way, Maggie awoke to silence and no sound of pittering feet of Kane, who, at twenty years old, only stayed home because his mother requested it.
In the middle of the night, Brigid and Monroe rounded up Darcy, Paddy, Kane, and Fallon into the buggy and left without even informing Maggie. Darcy and Paddy had been loaded aboard while asleep, and were told Maggie had fallen off into the creek while they were floating across it.
Darcy screamed and wailed her sister’s name, burying her face into Paddy’s shoulder and weeping bitterly, demanding that the family go back for her. Kane spoke up and stated that he had seen her corpse lying on the bank, which distressed Darcy and Paddy even more, as they huddled together in the back and silently mourned for their lost baby sister.
They found out later of Maggie and Brigid’s parents’ fate.
Maggie lived for her grandparents. Every Monday, Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday, Maggie would walk four hours to Cork to bring huge buckets of soup home for her grandparents from soup kitchens, and not even touch it herself. On the days she would be let off, she worked in a field. Many countries sent a strange substance called ‘Indian Meal’ as a relief charity, though this tough material was almost impossible for the starving people to digest, since they was accustomed to potatoes. This caused Maggie terrible pains which often kept her to her pallet for a couple days, where her grandmother would force-feed her leftover soup until she was strong enough to work again.
Just as Maggie was recovering from one of these periods, they ran out of soup and Indian Meal. All they were left with were the corn, which wasn’t near enough with a malnourished fifteen year old harvesting it. Daideo volunteered to go, but he was suffering from numbness in his legs frequently and pain, which would have been diagnosed as multiple sclerosis today. Maggie, still very weak and feverish, did not allow it.
And that was where she collapsed. Halfway down the road to Cork, Maggie, the seemingly invincible child who had endured abuse and starvation, at last fainted on the side of the road, her emaciated form hidden by debris and other bodies littering the entire country. She was just another dying little girl.
A pair of vampires were hunting just a little bit up the road, searching for an easy meal but only discovered half-dead skeletons dragging on their feet and begging, ‘Pratai! Pratai!’ The both of them were horrified by this. As they walked along, they heard the high-pitched voice of a young girl cry the name Darcy, over and over again. One living human, flanked by corpses huddled with her for warmth and company that had died. A small teenage girl, delirious and nearly dead, was accusing the two vampires of not being human. Siobhan couldn’t help but pity the poor child. “Croi milis,” She crooned, “Do you want your suffering to end?”
Readily Maggie nodded her head, screaming, “Take away the bodies! Take them away!” And so, Siobhan bit her.
This was all the pain of the whipping as a child, the hunger pangs, and the Indian Meal, thrown together and multiplied by thousands, millions, all concentrated towards her heart and seemingly burning off her every nerve. Her feeble screaming and whimpering while Siobhan tried to calm her and hush her wasn’t thought much of by the other barely living people- her reaction sounded much like the reaction to Indian Meal or having a small morsel of food stolen, which was common.
Liam was strictly opposed to this. He did not want to share land with another vampire, nor share attention from Siobhan. Liam’s harsh glares just made Maggie’s pain worse, since Siobhan would sit with the tiny girl on her lap and try to soothe her cries of agony. The memory of the motherly vampire still lingers in her advanced mind, which is one of the reasons she is so fond of her now.
When Maggie awoke, she found herself alone in a great big bed that creaked every time she moved. Instead of her entire body at a torturous temperature, only her throat burned, with much less intensity. Slowly she blinked her new crimson eyes, slipping out of the bed with an agility that she had never noticed. The door peeped open, and in walked her favorite person in the world at that point- the vampire Siobhan.
Maggie launched herself at her like she actually was her mother, eternally grateful for her calming effect on her. But before she could embrace her, the intimidating male vampire, Liam, leaped in front of his mate and snarled at Maggie.
The new vampire was frightened and offended, settling in a defensive stance and hissing at the much bigger man. Siobhan glared at her mate and walked deliberately slowly to Maggie, placing her arms around her and whispered in her ear, “Liam is defensive…he doesn’t like sharing his territory or me with anyone else.”
Maggie grimaced, “Great. Just another person who hates me.”
It took quite a while, but Liam slowly warmed up to Maggie. Mainly because Siobhan willed it so, but in some ways they both recognized each other’s good traits. Currently Liam is much like a father to her (and she like a sister to him), though they are not as close as the two women of the household, Liam still afraid to go hunting with her around for fear he might hurt her, whose newborn strength has long worn off.
Maggie has recently come to Forks, sent by her covenmates for her own protection. Siobhan suspects that the Volturi are growing stronger and are at one point going to try to steal talented Maggie, and any threat at all that endangers her precious croi milis must be avoided, so she sent her covenmate to the Olympic Coven for extended protection. Maggie is half-elated, since she gets to spend time with the Cullens, but is also worried for the safety of Siobhan and Liam and misses her home country.
OUT OF CHARACTER
>>alias: marleymoo
>>age: thirteen
>>experience: four years
>>other characters: none
>>how to contact you: pm
>>how you found us: i don’t know…caution i believe. or maybe not...
>>did you read the rules? yuproleplay sample:Kate frowned sympathetically at his words. “It must have been miserable there.” She herself would be miserable in such a gloomy, dank place as she thought a prison was. A memory of a version of herself at four or five years old flashed through her mind, seated on her father’s knee, listening to a story contentedly.
“Now Kate, it is imperative that you behave well for your nurse. You do know what happens to little girls that do not show their nurses proper respect?”
“What, Father?”
“They go to prison.”
By now, Kate was very well aware that children who did not obey their superiors certainly were not sent to prison. But at the time she was told the story, she fervently believed it, as one that age would be devout in insisting that faeries and unicorns existed.
“Prison?” The younger princess’s voice resonated fear.
“Prison is a very terrible place. You are hooked to the walls by chains wound round your ankles and arms, and spend all the day in the damp darkness, no light, and no food as you are used to, my dear, oh no. All you get is a scrap of dry bread each day and a cup of stale water and you have no clean clothes or necklaces,” He tapped on the ornate jewelry she had been wearing at the time, “or warm beds.”
“I do not wish to go to Prison, Father. I promise I will obey my nurse from now on.”
“As you should. Now run along and play; I will be sure to tell her what you said to make sure you keep your word.”
Kate didn’t dare to misbehave afterwards. It was effective even after she discovered that punishment was out of question for such a young child, especially a princess. She smiled at the memory, before looking up at Vasher as he began speaking again, this time about his time in the dreaded prison.
After his scathing remarks on the nobles of Korit (that Kate couldn’t help but agree with), Vasher claimed he was rambling and apologized.
“You need not apologize to me, my lord. I don’t mind if you talk a lot; to be honest I enjoy it. It’s a pleasant change not to lead in a conversation.” She smiled at Vasher, eyes twinkling good-naturedly.
.
Trustingly she took his arm, before scowling at his words. “I have never and never will have business in a brothel, Mister Nubille.” Kate glared half-heartedly at the noble. Clearly he did not know who she was- any person familiar with Kate knew she fought to preserve her virtue until her wedding night, a date that she knew would not be too far away. Her parents were searching for a husband, though most men were attracted to her sisters and saw the youngest princess as too innocent, too childlike.
And she wasn’t too disappointed.
“You will see what my business is when I attend to it. But I can assure you, my intentions are most definitely not…sinful.” Kate lifted a hand to the rose pendant hanging on her neck by a string of pearls, smiling at the fate of it. She knew it was for a good cause, though she felt like it was a betrayal to the person who gave it to ber.
Oh well; she had already decided. No turning back now.
“I’ll be going to the Town Square.” Katrina muttered, looking demurely at her dark blue skirts.
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