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 Rook - Reboot, let's go
 Posted: Jan 18 2018, 11:23 PM
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Expert Handler
Background Mods
Total Posts: 859
Member No. 284
Joined on 28-April 12.

Lev Rabuta, Lilith Fauve, Rook

Awards: 3

[Creating a new RP Sample for Rook, along with a bit of editing to her profile. Aptitudes are travel endurance, honor/trustworthiness & can be found in her old profile, which is linked in my signature]

Character: Juniper Rook

Full Name: Juniper Rook - goes by Rook
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Doesn't know, doesn't care

Class: Handler
Starting City: Fough Place

Overall Appearance:
user posted image
(Picture drawn by my wonderful and obliging sister, Feather. You can see more of her work here)
    Rook looks like someone painted a beautiful girl, but forgot to use a fine brush. She has a strong jawline, a strong nose, and her ears stick out a little more than anyone would consider elegant. Her cheekbones are sharp and high, framed by a thick mane of black hair. She cuts it in layers just to keep it under control and it's still a ruffled, tangled mess. In the heat it turns fiercely curly, springing out of ties. She has large, dark brown eyes and a wide mouth. Her skin is normally light brown, though it darkens under the sun. She would be a handsome young woman if she smiled; she rarely smiles. In fact, any emotion lights up her face and gives her a sense of attractiveness, even a scowl, but Rook's most common expression is a flat blankness. It gives her a unpleasant quality, many people would say, it makes it look like she's a stone cold killer.

    There's nothing girlish or delicate about the rest of Rook either. She has broad, sturdy shoulders, wide hips, and large feet. Her work has left her with defined arm and leg muscles. The only reason she isn't mistaken for a boy is the smooth, deep curve of her waist, visible even through the layers of clothes she wears.

    She wears plain, cheap clothes, the kind that can be bought for almost nothing at the second-hand rag stall. The colours range from faded black to muddled brown and the cloth is torn through with holes. That's partly because Rook tends to chew on the ends of her shirt cuffs (as well as her hair and nails) and leaves ragged cloth behind. She has a weakness for every shade of red, from so dark it's nearly black to soft pinks.
Distinguishing Features:
  • Unruly black hair
Overall Personality:
    At heart, Rook is a kind, caring and giving person. She's good-natured and easy going, happy to follow the flow if it means other people are enjoying themselves. She has a gentle soul and refuses to give up on anyone. If her life was a fairy-tale, she would be the teary-eyed girl who waited faithfully at home for her loved ones to return, the one who joyfully ran out to hug them when they finally got back. Rook is the kind of person who makes a place into a home, with warm smiles and shy encouragements and honest trust.

    Rook does her very best to pretend this side of her doesn't exist at all. She's withdrawn from the world, barricading herself with rock-walls like a Minior. She doesn't care, she tells anyone who gets close, she doesn't care about anything. She takes rudeness and apparent disinterest and uses them to form a cocoon around her vulnerable heart. Any attempt to get her to open up only makes her retreat further. It isn't exactly an effective defence mechanism. She still cares; she can't stop. Rook still cares and she still gets hurt, and she's no good at hiding it. But she isn't participating in her own destruction and she holds onto that fact like a lifeline. They can't make her act like she cares. It's easy to hurt her, but no one can make her smile at them. She can grumble and mutter and not answer questions until they go away. She can't keep herself from caring, but she refuses to give away her trust.

    Rook's stubborn defiance is a mostly a learned trait, but it isn't any less strong for that. She's woven it deep into her spirit, using it to hold her up like steel beams in a forge. Empathy is her blood, but stubbornness is her backbone. Along with that, she has a deep-seated sense of right and wrong. She will not neglect her responsibilities and she won't back down from doing what's right out of fear. Honour is the one watchword Rook won't break, no matter how it grates against her. She'll give her help to anyone who deserves it. She might give it grudgingly, resentment singing in her ears, but she'll always do it.

    But no matter how Rook tries, she can't always keep her soft heart hidden. Patience and a lack of judgment will eventually lead her to opening up a little, like a timid pokemon peeking out from their den. If anyone's around to see her kindness, she'll be gruff and short about it, but if she thinks she's alone her surly attitude melts into a bashful sweetness. This often happens around pokemon; she's well-known as a provider of food by the stray pokemon population in Fough.

    Rook also loves a good rush. Slamming her fist into someone else's face, diving down on a Pidgeot, being knocked head over heels by a giant wave, all of these strip away her faked apathy for a moment and leave her laughing wildly in pure joy. In those moments Rook forgets she's broken, forgets she's been hurt and just revels in being alive.

    Although it may take a long time to gain her trust and a very short time to lose it, when Rook trusts someone she can be surprisingly protective. She isn't very good at it; she's soft-skinned, with no armour emotionally, no real skill - but a surprising amount of enthusiasm - at physical fighting, and no clever retorts. She is admirably persistent about it. She views the whole world with the certainty that it will hurt her loved one and acts accordingly.

    In short, Rook is someone who tries not to care, and consistently fails at it.
    Rook grew up under the shadow of her mother's infidelity. Everyone in Willowgreen knew that her mother had cheated on her husband and then left him with a baby girl to raise. There were different theories for why she'd left. Some said she was disappointed that her daughter wasn't a powerful mage like she was and others claimed she was simply lying low to keep the Guardians off her track. Rook herself didn't remember her mother. She only knew her mother's husband, William Rook, the man she thought of as her father.

    William Rook was an honourable man. He knew that marrying the beautiful mage had been a mistake on his part, but he still intended to fulfill the commitments he had made to her. He took care of Rook the best he could, setting aside money for her clothes and food, sending her to his sister's place when he was at work. He never loved her as a parent would, but he never hated her. She was a responsibility; no more, and no less.

    Rook's childhood was split between the quiet weariness of her father and the loud, bustling household of her aunt. Elizabeth Hammerarm did not think much of her only niece and she thought even less of her erstwhile mother. She had no compunctions about telling Rook this at great length, listing out Rook's faults as neatly as she sliced potatoes for dinner. But while Elizabeth might have been cold towards her niece, she truly loved her family: her children, her husband and her brother. Her dislike for Rook stemmed entirely from the fact that she was a burden to her brother, a good, hard-working man who deserved better than to be the joke of the town and should have had more than a cold home waiting for him at the end of the day. This was another thing she made very clear to Rook.

    It wasn't a surprise that Rook vastly preferred the silence of her father to her aunt's home. Hearing nothing but the occasional tired sigh was easier on her than listening to her aunt alternately point out her flaws and coo at her own beloved children. She took to silence, wrapping it around her like armour. When her aunt talked, her only replies were mumbled agreements. It dulled the pain a little, saved a little of her energy. She stopped trying to do well at her work, stumbling over simple tasks and taking too long. Her aunt was not pleased, but Rook never expected her to be. After a time, Rook was old enough to stay at home by herself. She cooked and cleaned as her aunt had taught her, drinking in the peace.

    She took classes in Miss Mattie's house every rest day, learning the very basics of maths and letters. She didn't befriend the other children, with her too unwilling to reach out and them finding much easier playmates. She had a kind of agreement with Katerina, a foreign-looking girl, but the girl's family moved after a few years. As she grew older the children found teasing her to be a fun sport and Rook tried to avoid them more and more. There was only one actual fight, when a boy insulted her father, and after that Rook was expelled from the school. Rook was mostly relieved by it and went back to her housework. Her skill at it had grown as she got older, and soon she found herself with some spare time. She used the extra time to walk through Edgewood forest, supposedly searching for berries or mushrooms but in reality looking for pokemon. The creatures had fascinated her since she was a small child putting out the last of her supper for a scraggy Meowth. The town pokemon didn't like her any more than the humans did, but she couldn't understand anything they said to her. And the Meowth had rubbed up against her chin, purring weakly.

    When she was sixteen her mostly-solitary, quiet life ended. Her father informed her that he had done his duty by her and now that she was a woman she would have to make her own way in the world. Rook left Willowgreen with no more than a few coins in her pocket and the clothes on her back. She went down to Fough Place, looking for work. But her skills were few and there were many other women with similar skills who were prettier, more cheerful, and louder.

    She spent her first winter certain she would die. Only the grace and kindness of the Church kept her alive. They let her sleep on the benches at night and gave her one meal a day. Sometimes the pastor's wife would give her a little extra, a crust of bread or some sprouted beans her children didn't want.

    In the spring she found that there was one job no one else wanted: taking away the nightsoil. It was dirty, it smelled and it paid badly, but she took it anyway. She had two runs a night, one that started at dusk and went into the witching hours and one that started just before dawn and ended when the market stalls were starting to open. It wasn't easy work; the wagon she pulled was heavy, her route was long, and when she was done she had to take the filled wagon down a dirt road, all the way out of the city to the Pit. If it had rained in the days before, the road would be muddy and the wagon was twice as hard to pull. But it paid just enough that she could eat and afford a tiny cot in a ratty wooden boarding house when the winter came. During the summer she didn't bother finding a boarding house, just sleeping in any place that was empty and soft. She settled into an empty pattern, her heart aching for Edgewood and her father's cabin. When she could she fed stray pokemon, but more often she just watched them.

    And though she didn't know it, some of them watched her back.
RP Sample:
    Rook didn't even give the piss-scented, cramped alleyway a second look as she trudged down it. After three years of collecting nightsoil, she was pretty well known by the rogues of Fough Place. She didn't have anything they wanted and the faint smell of nightsoil clung to her no matter how much she washed, so she wasn't exactly popular. Someone bumped into her shoulder and she growled a quick "Watch where you're going" at them. But -

    "Juniper Rook!"

    She turned, mouth half open in surprise. No one cared to know her first name in the city, and she'd dropped it completely. But in front of her was a boy with brown hair almost as curly as hers and splotches of red on his face, and he was looking right at her. His brown eyes and twitching nose reminded her of a Buneary. He wore loose, patched shorts and she thought he looked like he could kick like a Buneary too. He had some kind of bag in his arms and a desperate gleam in his eyes. A runner for the Order? she thought, and then shook her head. Doesn't matter.

    "You got the wrong person," she told him, and stomped off. Her shoulders were hunched up like the haunches of a Meowth, and she didn't get even halfway down the alley before she heard light footsteps pattering after her. Her jaw clenched.

    "Please, Juniper."

    She spun around. Her eyebrows were drawn down in a scowl and the flat line of her mouth didn't hide the twist of something conflicted in her eyes.

    "It's Rook," she spat, crossing her arms, "What do you want?"

    "Just take this bag and look after it for a while?" he asked, "You don't have to do anything. I'll be back in a few days."

    He held it out to her, breathless and wide-eyed like her nieces and nephews when they'd begged her Aunt for a taste of the pie filling before supper. Rook narrowed her eyes at it. The bag was a quarter of the size of the boy and made of well-worn leather. She was almost certain it contained some kind of ale...but the boy was still looking at her like she could help him. Rook checked to make sure no one was sneaking up on her while the kid was distracting her. Then she reached forward and tugged open the flap, glaring at the boy for good measure. She looked inside and stared.

    It wasn't ale. Three pokemon eggs were nestled safely inside the bag. Their shells seemed to glow in the morning sunlight. She thought she could see dark, curled up shapes underneath the thin shells. She leaned forward, taking more of the bag into her arms. The weight of it was somehow warm. She noticed a pokeball tucked into a side pocket, the splash of red bright against dull brown leather and heard something clink when she let her hands explore the bag for holes.

    A cloud passed over the sun and her shadow ate up the eggs. Rook bit her lip, longing crossing her face for a second, and then closed the bag with shaking hands.

    "I can't take care of them," she said, "I don't have - "

    The boy had been fidgeting while he talked to her, and suddenly he shoved the bag up against her chest. Rook grabbed it on instinct, and he took off down the alleyway like a startled Pidgey. She chased after him, but the bag slowed her down and her breath was coming in weak after her night's work. Her legs felt like solid iron. When she got to the end of the alleyway, the boy had disappeared. Rook held the bag of pokemon eggs in her arms, looking out at the cobbled Fough street, buildings dirty with forge smoke and the dull gray sky of winter. She breathed in through her nose. It smelled like copper and fish. Her arms tightened around the bag and her whole world shifted and compressed in as long as it took her to blink.

    Rook frowned darkly out at the city. It's no place to raise a baby.

The Player:
Name: Seasle
Age: 24
Time Zone: Eastern, I think
How did you find us? I can't remember. Has Harper not always been here, from the beginning of the mists of time?
Referrer: N/A
Anything Else:

Lilith Fauve

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