Meagan Catriona Rhosyn Thomason (complete)

About You
Name:
Lily, or Lils if you?d like.

Age:
Seventeen.

How did you find us:
Kind of a long story, but in a nutshell ? I used to be a really good writer, but when my two main RP sites died (one spontaneously closed, the other was randomly and abruptly deleted) my writing skills began to diminish. I?ve spent months looking for an active site that I could really get into, and then a couple of weeks ago my friend sent me this link. After poking around for a spell, and getting a feel for the standards of the site, and getting an idea of what your characters are like, I decided to join.

Rules Password:
[Password Accepted ~Jordan]

Character Basics
Name:
Meagan Catriona Rhosyn Thomason

Alias(es)/Nickname(s):
Meg, Cat, Little Miss, Lady.

Gender:
Female.

Age:
Twenty.

Race:
Human, with possibly ? Fairy blood on her mother?s side.

Status/Title:
Scholarly Healer

Affiliation:
Meagan is neutral, for she is sincerely fascinated by anything and everything having to do with Old Narnia. However, due to lack of exposure to the creatures themselves as well as her Telmarine family history (fairy blood excluded, of course), her loyalty is shown most clearly towards her people. (Essentially, she?s neutral with pro-Telmar tendencies. This will be elaborated on and further explained in later portions of the application.)

Character Appearance
Hair:
Meagan?s hair is the one physical attribute that she accepts with something akin to pride. Although they are brown, a sign of her Telmarine heritage, the locks themselves possess qualities that are, in a word, unique. The coloring goes beyond the standard definition of ?brown,? in that the precise shade is so dark it could be called ebony. Natural reddish highlights, courtesy of her constant exposure to the sun, are subtly woven in amongst the nearly black strands. Her hair is extremely long, reaching just past her hips. Although not straight, the dark locks curl gently at the ends, and often possess a subtle wave that gives her hair body and volume. At first glance, the dark strands seem to shine in the light of both the sun and the moon, and the seemingly gossamer texture can easily be confirmed with a simple touch ? her hair is naturally silky and smooth, and she was born with the gift of rarely experiencing frizz, dryness or greasiness. As such, she is most often seen with her hair down or with the front layers clipped back behind her head, because the extreme silkiness makes it difficult to tie back.

Eyes:
To many, Meagan?s eyes are nothing extraordinary; nothing worth gasping and fussing over. But in dark-haired and olive-skinned Telmar, vivid cobalt eyes that vary in shade from navy to periwinkle are something of a sight to behold. She has been described as having ?sad? eyes, but these cool blue orbs rarely convey a true feeling of sadness. Those who know her well (and being that she?s not the most sociable person around, those are in short supply) will see that her eyes really cab be the windows to her soul. Although not always easy to detect, the lights in her eyes change dramatically based solely on her mood, though the most apparent is the peculiarly mischievous glint that appears whenever she is, as her father used to put it, ?up to something.?

Distinguishing marks:
At first glance, Meagan has no distinguishing marks, unless her lightly tanned skin with a gentle dusting of freckles is considered distinguishing. But beneath the yards of fabric that typically hide her petite frame from view, her body is a sea of mismatched markings that are unique to her and her alone. Most noticeable is the scar, the unfortunate result of an attack during her childhood. It stretches from the lower ribcage on her left side, across her abdomen and down to her right hip. This is the sole indication that she is most likely unable to bear children. She has several birthmarks, the largest of which stretches across the small of her back in the vague form of a flame. On the back of her left shoulder, there is a much smaller marking in the slight shape of a rose, and her arms and legs are riddled with small, mainly circular specks.

Portrayal:
Eva Green.

Character Personality
Likes:
+ Writing
+ Reading
+ Learning
+ Healing
+ Books
+ History
+ Stories
+ Nature
+ Darkness
+ Rainstorms
+ Creatures (magical and commonplace)
+ Quiet
+ Daydreaming
+ Curiosity
+ Romance

Dislikes:
- Fire
- Meat
- Wine
- Violence
- Ignorance
- Arrogance
- Crowds
- Bright sunlight
- Unearned power
- Cruelty
- Murder
- Wasting time
- Smalltalk
- Presumptuous males
- Misogyny

Strengths:
+ A sharp and expansive mind
+ An unusually diverse knowledge of Narnia?s history
+ Extremely skilled in the art of multi-tasking
+ Impeccable self-control
+ A soothing demeanor
+ Patience
+ Basic healing (she?s working on getting better at this)
+ Stealthy movements

Weaknesses:
- Fear of fire
- Fear of blades in the hands of reckless people
- Fear of heights
- Strong opinions
- Frail build
- Compassionate personality
- Meticulousness
- Anti-social tendencies
- Her brothers

General Personality:
Meagan is a downright oddball, and there?s really no other appropriate way to describe her. At nineteen, she is at what many consider to be the peak of existence ? she is young, with an attractive figure and enough money to provide for ample opportunities in any direction. But despite the obvious benefits that come with her mere existence, she chooses to live the life of what one may very well call a bookworm. Raised in a world of privilege, Meagan was assigned a tutor at the young age of ten. The tutor, Professor Abernethy, instilled her with a passionate desire for knowledge, knowledge that was not limited to the world in which she had been born. Her thirst and ever-strengthening desire to learn, about anything and everything, is what earned her the title of scholar. Growing up, she could always be found with a book in one hand, a parchment and writing utensil in the other. By the time of her brother?s disappearance when she was fifteen, Meagan was well known for her habit of spending hours in libraries and archives, both public and private, pouring over texts, ancient and modern, and eagerly consuming the folklore within them. She has been accused of obsessive tendencies, and some have even gone so far as to call her utterly insane, claiming that no one, females in particular, should pay such close attention to detail in such trivial subjects as history.

As one might expect from a young woman so consumed by both a lust for knowledge and a longing for the past, Meagan is not exactly the most sociable Telmarine. It?s not that she dislikes people; the truth is quite the opposite, in fact. No, people, humans and creatures alike, fascinate her, but she has, since an early age, developed an introverted habit of falling away from the crowd and into seclusion. She is incredibly quiet, due in part to the simple biological fact that her voice is sweetly high-pitched, but naturally hushed. Laid back and soft-spoken, Meagan goes with the flow, and rarely says anything that could cause a problem. She probably knows more about Old Narnia than the majority of the Telmarines, but while she feels a mild sense of compassion for their plight, her unfamiliarity with the creatures nearly always keeps her from speaking in their defense. She lets it be known that her loyalty lies with her people, but unbeknownst to most, she is not a huge fan of Miraz, who she perceives as having gained power without warrant. She has never cared who held the throne of Telmar, as she is not a fan of politics; but she does not believe that foul play and cheating are any way to rule a kingdom. But while she does not care for the ruler of her people, she holds a certain level of disdain for the Narnians, particularly since she?s lacking proof that she?s partially one of them. This is proof of her neutrality, in that she will never support nor betray Miraz, or the Narnians.

Meagan has always been rather drifty, and is known for her fanciful habits. Although reading was her greatest passion throughout her youth, as she came into adulthood, she found that writing was far more satisfying in that it was much more effective at easing tension. In the beginning, everything she wrote was based mainly on historical facts; but as time passed and her grammar and vocabulary escalated, she began to work in the realm of fiction. Where she once wrote essay after essay, she had begun to pour her every dream, every fantasy, into her work, and by the time she turned nineteen, this ability had become a definite part of her. She daydreams constantly, and is almost always found with some sort of notebook and writing utensil so she can keep a semi-decent record of her ideas as they come to mind. For someone with such a dreamy mindset, she has a surprisingly firm grasp on reality. She focuses her mind on the ways of the past and the present, and combines them and twists them into something that may very well resemble the future. Her stories and her fantasies portray a variety of characters, both Telmarine and Old Narnian, and very rarely feature people who resemble herself. With a photographic memory, Meagan can look at anyone or anything, and she will remember it forever, and this skill is reflected in her writings.

Despite her normally caring and compassionate nature, Meagan is not without her faults. She tires easily, and exhaustion typically causes her to snap, or lash out at anyone or anything that happens to say or do the wrong thing. She has a bit of a superiority complex where the Old Narnians are concerned, and while she will help them as easily as she will help a Telmarine, when they approach her, she must refrain from talking down to them (speaking futuristically, of course, as she has yet to meet a Narnian). She holds the creatures in particularly low immediate regard, mainly because of her older brother and best friend, Dylan. She knows not who stole him away in the night, but the most common and seemingly credible explanation for his sudden disappearance was that the Narnians were the culprits. There was no definite reason to back up this assumption; but after years of hearing the same accusation, Meagan has begun to believe that the stories could be true. She knows all too well that not all beings, Telmarine or Narnian, are like those who stole her brother away from her, but she also knows that, in a world as turbulent and unpredictable as Narnia, anyone can be a traitor.

She is superstitious, and she is grossly overprotective of her little brother. One of her greatest fears is that the child will be swept into the army, by either Miraz or the Narnians, and he, like his father and possibly brother before him, will be killed, leaving Meagan completely alone. The one thing she fears more than the death of her brothers is the growing possibility of her being alone forever. She is really a sweetheart, and will go out of her way to help people when they come to her. She is dedicated and studies hard, particularly in the art of healing, which will likely become more useful with the increasing tensions between the two halves of Narnia. She is rather insecure, at times, and not just where her brother is concerned. Her depression convinced her that she was cursed; that anyone close to her was fated to die. Meagan does not see herself as attractive, or worthy of being viewed with affection, and she does not believe that anyone will ever love her. If someone doesn?t prove her wrong within the next few years, it is unlikely that she will ever overcome her general meekness.

Character History
Parents:
Cadell Elisud Thomason (Deceased. Would have been forty-six years old.)
Alyssa Rhosyn Thomason (Deceased. Would have been forty-two years old.)

Siblings:
Dylan Cadfael Aeron Thomason (Twenty-five years old. Whereabouts unknown.)
Marc Llewellyn Neirin Thomason (Ten years old.)

General History:
The Back-story

The truth about the genealogy of Dylan, Meagan and Marc Thomason is really rather fuzzy, in certain aspects, at least. Their paternal heritage is easy to follow ? the Thomasons were one of the richest and most influential Telmarine families in existence. Their blood had long been integrated in the very heart of Telmar, meaning that they had, in fact, spent generations marrying into families whose Telmarine blood was just as pure as their own. It has long been rumored that at one point or another, the Thomasons had been nobility, and high-ranking nobility at that. The truth of the family?s rank, however, was lost in translation, thanks to the continuous shifts in power amongst the governing bodies of Telmar. The Thomasons have all but died out, as each generation produced only one to two children. Cadell Thomason was an only child, and with his death, closely followed by the disappearance of his eldest son, the family name was left only in his two youngest children, Meagan and Marc.

Alyssa Thomason?s family background is quite unlike her husband?s. Although she had the dark hair and olive skin of most Telmarines, her other physical attributes were not entirely? human. She was small, both in height and weight, her eyes were violet, her ears were misshapen and she did not seem to age properly after the age of twenty-one. Her father had been a Telmarine, and all evidence points to his blood as being as old and powerful as the Thomasons?. His wife, Alyssa?s mother, was a different story. No information about the woman has ever been found, only her name; and Alyssa never spoke of her parents, to her husband, her children, or anyone else. Many believe that Alyssa was half Narnian, that her father had met and married a Fairy princess. But considering most Telmarines brushed off the existence of Narnians for centuries, the stories often fell into oblivion. Whatever the reason for her unusual characteristics, Alyssa?s sons took after their father, in that they would grow to be classified as ?tall dark and handsome,? while her daughter seemed to blossom into a slightly larger, slightly younger version of herself.

Cadell and Alyssa met under what could only be described as strained circumstances. He was fascinated by her, and she was repulsed by him. It took Cadell months of trying to earn the girl?s affection before she would even consent to be wooed. When she was sixteen and he was twenty, they wed in a ceremony that pleased countless relations on both sides. Less than a year later, Alyssa gave birth to the couple?s first child ? a strapping son named Dylan. Their happiness only continued to grow in the five years it took them to conceive again, and nine months after conception, their only daughter, Meagan was born. Alyssa was informed that any further children posed a serious risk to her life, and that chances of a third successful pregnancy were low. Horrified, Cadell moved to a separate bedroom, and the family was content for almost a decade before a single night changed their lives forever. Alyssa, impregnated on a whim catalyzed by years of built up tension, died giving birth to her third child and second son, Marc. From then on, the life of the last remaining branch of the Thomason family would only go further and further downhill.

Childhood

From the moment she was born, Meagan Catriona Rhosyn Thomason was a curious girl. Born in the break of a storm in the middle of May, her birth was the longest and most painful Alyssa would ever endure. She was quiet from the start, and made very little noise, even when she cried. Her parents called her a godsend, a gift from above as a reward for their tolerance in relation to Dylan?s years of screaming. The girl was given everything she could have possibly needed, and anything she could ever want. She was always dressed in the finest garments, fed the best foods, and her room was decorated in a simplistically lavish style that was perfectly suited for a toddler. Cadell and Alyssa were terribly involved in their children?s lives. They played with them at every opportunity, and took on the task of teaching them ?the essentials.? At the age of ten, both Dylan and Meagan spent hours each day with Professor Abernethy, the family tutor who loved each of the children as though they were his own.

Growing up, Meagan developed an unusually strong bond with her brother. While it is said that twins often share a sort of mental connection, that supposed connection was nothing in comparison to the ties between Dylan and Meagan. Each could tell when the other was in trouble, or when they were needed; each had a vague idea of where the other was at any given time; and most amusing to the adults around them was the children?s frequent habit of popping up and finishing each other?s sentences. The gap in their ages was of little importance. They did everything together until Dylan turned ten, and began spending his days with Professor Abernethy; and even then, he spent his afternoons and evenings with his baby sister. He took it upon himself to teach her to read, despite their parents? insistence that she was too young and he was too inexperienced to do it without botching the job. Meagan spent hours with her brother, listening to him read to her and following along as he taught her the basics, which only served to further strengthen their bond.

Meagan, odd as it may seem to any that looked at her after her fifteenth birthday, was a die-hard tomboy. She would often wear her brother?s old clothes and trek off after him on his little ?adventures.? She developed a love of nature and the woods through her hundreds of ventures into the trees. She prided herself on being the fastest tree-climber around, and liked nothing better than to go for secret swims in the streams, rivers and lakes around her home. One thing she never did, however, due to her own moral principles, was to harm living creatures. While her brother boasted about capturing talking rabbits and dwarves, Meagan turned her head and ignored it. More often than not, she would try to find the captured creature in question, and if it was still alive, she?d attempt to nurse it back to health, or bring it to Professor Abernethy for healing.

Student Years

Marc?s birth and Alyssa?s death just mere months before Meagan was set to begin her lessons with the Professor sent the child?s mind into a tailspin that she never fully escaped. Cadell fired his staff and went into seclusion, as heartbreak over the loss of his wife overcame him. Meagan was left with Dylan, the Professor, and the baby. At hardly ten years old, she struggled to care for the child, but accepted it as her responsibility as the only ?woman? in the house. Months after Alyssa?s burial, Cadell returned to his life, and hired a nursemaid to care for Marc, so Meagan could join Dylan in lessons with the Professor. She excelled, particularly in the subjects of history and medicinal science, and was soon studying at a level higher than her older brother. Dylan was not jealous, though; rather, he was proud that his baby sister had overcome the loss of their mother and mental abandonment of their father, and surpassed the expectations everyone had laid out for her.

The older she got, the more apparent it became that Meagan was not entirely human. She stopped growing at a young age, standing at less than an inch over five-feet tall. Her ears, though not nearly as noticeable as her mother?s or grandmother?s, became pointed, and her eyes never changed from the startling blue with which many babies are born. By the time she was thirteen, she had already developed her adult, feminine figure, and was, unfortunately, beginning to draw the attention of certain Telmarine men. She would have nothing to do with any of them, and instead focused on her studies, and on spending time with her brothers. But some would not accept her disinterest. A scuffle resulted one day, a scuffle in which Dylan was forced to intervene for Meagan?s protection. Her attackers escaped, and Dylan suffered a black eye, but that was nothing compared to Meagan?s wound. An attacker?s blade had caught her torso, just beneath the ribcage, and he had torn the sword downwards, essentially slicing the girl wide open. It took weeks of healing and months of prayer, but she finally recovered. But like her mother before her, she was informed that pregnancy would more than likely be fatal for her, as well as for any infant she may carry.

As usual, Meagan?s life returned to normal after her recovery. She moved ahead with her lessons, and continued to explore the forests with Dylan, in hopes of finding a Narnian or two. But of course, the imaginary jinx she had been born with came back into play a little over a year later, when Cadell died in the night. Meagan never knew how he died; the Professor wouldn?t let her see, and Dylan would never say. She was devastated, of course, but as long as the nursemaid cared for Marc, and she had Dylan and the Professor to keep her company, she knew she would survive. But not a month later, Dylan disappeared. The furniture in his room had been overturned, and it looked as though there had been some sort of struggle. Many claimed the young man had abandoned his siblings, and run off to be with a girl in Archland. But Meagan knew better. She could no longer sense his presence, no longer communicate with her brother and her best friend. She dismissed the maid, and took on the task of raising her brother on her own, all the while throwing herself deeper and deeper into her areas of interest ? Narnian history and healing.

The Stunning Creature Before You

Four years have passed since Meagan?s life reached its lowest point, and she has never gotten over it. As the rumors of her brother?s disappearance began to grow wilder and wilder, she drew further back into the confines of her private library in attempt to avoid the pain that came with hearing his name. The Professor moved into the Thomason children?s home, to keep an eye on them, as well as to watch Marc while Meagan studied. A mild variation of depression had begun to eat at the young woman?s soul, as she struggled to deal with the fact that her big brother was gone, and that the growing belief was that the Narnians had taken him captive, and likely slaughtered him, though for what reason, none could say for sure. As the years passed and Marc grew older, and began coming to her for stories and adventures, Meagan was thrilled to see a slight glimmer of Dylan in the child, and she soon opened her heart and allowed the bond with the young boy begin to build. She watched in growing horror as the boy began leaning further towards the violence that had begun to consume the Telmarine society, the violence that could only lead to full-fledged war. At present, Marc is still young and impressionable; Meagan lives each day trying to lure her baby brother into her world of near-neutrality, to protect him from imminent fatality, and to protect herself from further heartache.

Other/Notes:

Sample
RP Sample:
((From a site that died many months ago?))

Wind whipped through the trees with a force unlike any the residents of Alenia had seen for years. Their whispering shrieks called out to the land, screaming the secrets of the darkness, of the unknown. These cries were mixed with the roaring, deafening sounds of thunder, rolling over the hills and through the trees, drawing ever closer to the kingdom of Mirivena. Outside the world was dark ? Thick black and grey clouds swirled overhead in a gathering mass, the eye of the storm developed directly above the mountains and hills that concealed the Dragon?s Breath Caverns and all that surrounded them. Bolts of lightning were the sole source of illumination as they suddenly cracked through the ever-darkening sky in an electric wave, catching trees and all other tall-standing objects, sparking towering infernos that gave the near-black kingdom an off-orange glow.

The screams of children could be heard for miles around, crying out for their parents to protect them from the enemy that Lord Kailen himself could not defeat. The people sought shelter wherever they could ? in their homes, in root cellars, down burrows and in random caves. But were any truly safe? The answer, of course, lies within the eye of the beholder. For all who remained at the unforgiving, unmoving mercy of the tempest, no one was safe; none would survive lest some greater being took pity on a select few. Not even the royal family, not even Lord Kailen could escape the storm?s mighty wrath. But for one, the outlook was not so bleak. High upon a hilltop, looking down into the kingdom of Mirivena, stood a lone figure, whose identity remained concealed beneath the confines of a thick black, green-trimmed cloak that blew around the wearer?s narrow frame like a high-flying flag amidst a chaotic breeze.

Two emerald orbs peered out from the shadows created by the low-lying hood of the cloak, whilst the figure?s shadow created a horrific sight upon the mountain side ? a figure standing unharmed amidst the apocalyptic storm of the century. What made the scene worse, if possible, was the frigid laugh that emitted from of full, ruby lips, a sound that, should it be used in jest or in song, would have been most melodic and enchanting. But when combined with the destructive events of the kingdom below and the cold, harsh glint in those haunted green eyes, the laughter was purely horrific. The figure thought the kingdom to be fools, irrational to the point of utter incompetence. Had they any trace of common sense left within their minds, they would have fled their beloved tree-ridden homes and retreated to the depths of the mountains where things remained impervious to the terrors of the outside world.

The cold laughter died out as the figure stepped inside the entrance to the seemingly unending labyrinth of caverns. A thin, ghostly pale hand emerged from the folds of the cloak and carefully lowered the hood. Dark hair spilled out ?round slender shoulders and the figure?s face and identity were revealed to the dark solitude of the Dragon?s Breath Caverns: Bridget Fiona Moor ? Alenia?s traveling apothecary. Her face held no evidence of the laughter that had escaped her delicate throat mere moments prior. Rather, she wore an expression to match the look in her eyes ? cold, hard hatred. She possessed a certain quality, void of a specific title or term, that enabled her to retain her title of ?attractive? even when it was clear she would harm any who crossed her path. Luckily for the citizens of Mirivena, none would lose their lives that night. She was alone, for the time being, in the caves no other human had realized to consider as shelter.

Bridget moved quickly into the depths of the caverns, her tiny frame enabling her to get through the smallest of openings, her small feet carrying her silently through the darkness. Her skirts, of a dark green fabric, rustled softly against the ground, but not enough so as to call attention to herself. The further she went, the darker it grew and the more difficult it became for her to see. Finally, she lit a torch with a mere strike of stone against stone, and continued on her way. She could hear breathing, feel the presence of another being around her, something else inhabiting the caverns. Her eyes flashed maliciously, and her fingers crept up under her skirt and up her leg, stopping at mid calve. She grasped onto something that had been strapped to her thin yet shapely leg, and lightly tugged it lose. Then she saw it, a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye.

She reacted quickly with an almost feline grace, her arm swinging out, the sharp blade of the dagger glinting murderously in the light of her torch. A roar ripped through the air, though it was unlike the rumbling thunder outside. Blood splattered the cavern walls and then quickly began to puddle beneath the fallen body of what had been a large wolf. An almost pitying smile appeared on Bridget?s lips as she knelt beside the animal and wiped the blood from her dagger on its fur. Switching the dagger to her other hand, she reached out and gently stroked it?s matted coat as the animal gasped its last breaths of air.

?Poor brute,? she whispered, her voice acquiring an unusual, rarely heard gentle tone. ?You did nothing more than attempt to escape the tempest?s wrath. But unfortunately, you fell victim to mine. If only you?d killed more humans in your day, if only you?d done your part to rid this world of the vermin outside, then perhaps you?d be alive at this moment. Or perhaps those who would have seen me killed would have killed you as well, and not in quite so quick and painless a fashion. Take this to the grave, beast. You and your kind are one of the few innocent beasts that roam this land. One of the few who don?t deserve to suffer this storm, or your fate.?

Bridget stood at almost lightning speed, as though realizing she was talking to a deceased animal. Gently kicking some dirt over its body as means of a quick and effortless burial, she turned and left the animal behind. Perhaps something else would make a meal of it. She continued at her hurried pace, the icy look returning to her face as she finally approached the Crystal Springs. Her chest rose and fell a bit more quickly than normal, and her heart struggled to return to its normal rate. But as she slid down the wall, her knees almost to her chest and her dagger clutched in her right hand, a cold yet honest smile returned to her lips, thoughts running wild within her mind as she waited for the storm, and possibly the destruction of Mirivena, to pass.