YOUNG, harlyn isabelle

[HARLYN ISABELLE YOUNG]

harlyn isabelle young.
nineteen ,, lynnie ,, head nurse ,, plague ,, fiery
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"do i really have to do this? okay, fine. whatever. my name is harlyn isabelle young. some call me lynnie, but only my closest friends are allowed to. you're looking at the head nurse for the plague. sure, i might be young and tiny, but don't let that fool you. i do my job and i do it well. if you have a problem with that, that's too bad. let's see...what else? i was born on october 3rd nineteen years ago. so yes, i'm nineteen, in case you couldn't figure that out. my main power is healing, able to be used for myself and others. i've also found that i can project a force field if i concentrate, but i haven't really worked on developing that. right now, it's just big enough to shield myself for a couple of minutes."

JUST ONE OF HER MANY GENETIC GIFTS
"i've never been drop dead gorgeous, and you know what? i'm okay with that. i don't need to be. anyways, i am a girl, in case it's taken you that long to figure it out. i'm short, reaching a lovely height of 5' 1" and i weigh about 105 lbs. see? tiny. fragile, i guess some have said though i'm anything but. trust me. um...what else? i have dark brown eyes and people have told me that they're the very definition of that saying "windows to the soul." that's a load of crap, but whatever they wanna believe, right? i can't help that my eyes are expressive. i also have brown hair. it's pin straight - always has been. sure, if i want to put the effort into it, but i normally don't have the time or want to do that. besides, it never holds a curl for long and it's kind of pointless. as far as clothing style goes, well, i guess you could say mine's different. it's a huge mishmosh of whatever i feel like wearing. alternative? i guess you could call it that. i don't know. but my favorite things to wear are converse and skinny jeans."

I DONT KNOW WHAT KIND OF GIRL I AM
"i've always been my own person. i may or may not follow all the standards of what is and isn't "socially acceptable", so people have called me quirky. but i'd much rather be quirky than a clone. or characterless, which i've found a lot of the brainwashed gifted to be. so as long as i have my personality, then i know i'm safe.

other traits? i say what's on my mind without thinking it through, never really worrying about whether or not it'll offend someone. i can't help that i'm brutally honest. and isn't that better than being a compulsive liar? there's very little mind to mouth filter, so when i say something, you know i mean it. sometimes that's good and other times it's bad, but it's not like i can control it.

more stubborn than a mule. it's what my mom always said about me. that, and that i was a fighter. though i don't think those were compliments coming from her. we used to butt heads all the time. she hated the fact that i was head strong and didn't take other people's opinions seriously. and as far as being a fighter? i equate that to never giving up. i know what i want and i'm going to work for it. failure isn't an option for me.

along with that stubbornness is an awful temper. it's easy to set off, this temper of mine. just because i'm tiny doesn't mean it's something to be taken lightly. i've had guys a foot taller than me take a couple steps back when i explode because they're afraid. once you piss me off, expect me to hold a grudge. i don't forgive and forget like you're supposed to. i hold onto hate, which probably isn't healthy. but even if you tell me so, i'm bound to blow that off.

now you're probably thinking i have no business being a nurse. i certainly don't have the bedside manner for one, nor does it seem like i have the correct personality. well, your wrong. i care deeply for members of the plague. it's probably a huge weakness that could be used against me, but i don't care much. the plague, well, they're the only family i got. i'll take care of them at all costs. and okay, sure, i might have a sarcastic comment here or there or come off as a smart ass, but it's really my way of dealing with the worry.

notice i said members of the plague, up above. yeah, that love and loyalty only extends to them. everyone else? well, they better hope they don't cross me. i used to be caring and compassionate about everyone. that little naive trusting girl who tried to look for the best in everybody. not anymore. not since i was brought to this place. maybe i'm like that with the plague members, but now i'm quick to judge anyone outside of our group. once i have an opinion of someone, it's hard to change that, no matter how undeserved it might be. that blindness has caused me to make some mistakes, but it's not like i can do much about it now."



WHAT OTHER KIND OF SHENANIGANS COULD I GET INTO?
"so i supposed you wanna know all about this. what made me the way i am today. well, sit back and prepare to be bored.

i can't say that my childhood was easy, but that's not me trying to gain sympathy. it's a statement of a fact. anyways. i was born in new york city to a set of parents that really had no desire or the capability to be so. my mom was only seventeen when she got knocked up and my father was much older. six years, in fact. they obviously didn't plan on having a child.

yet, instead of doing the best thing for said child and putting it up for adoption, my mom decided to keep it. her, technically, since i'm referring to myself. the only problem was that my mom thought raising a child was like having a puppy dog or something. a child was supposed to love you unconditionally, right? yeah. except babies need fed and changed and bathed and all that fun stuff. she hadn't been prepared for that and of course my father had skipped out soon after he found out that she was pregnant.

so my mom decided to skip college, live with her mom (they didn't get along well either. family pattern), and attempt to make a living for her and myself. except things didn't go quite to plan, as expected. she was only seventeen after all. she hated having a baby hold her back from a social life and often abandoned me with my grandma.

my grandma was a wonderful lady and raised me for the first ten years of my life. and then my dad decided to make a second guest appearance after a decade. my mom was ready to take him back him back - she loved him, apparently. my grandma told her that if she went back to him, she'd kick her own daughter and granddaughter out. which is exactly what happened.

we were one big happy family all right (ha), moving from dumpy apartment to dumpy apartment with some time spent on the street and shelters. when you live that kind of life, you grow up fast. my mom and i fought all the time. my dad and i fought. my mom and dad fought. there wasn't a moment in time where i can remember us three not being at each others' throat. and since my dad had the freedom to, he decided to abandon us again.

though, it'd seem the man had a secret. something i hadn't discovered until a year or so after, when i was fourteen. my mom and i had gotten into a particularly nasty fight. she was drunk at the time, and i don't think she meant to, but it happened anyway. she had shoved me and i tripped, resulting in a huge cut along my arm. it was the kind that needed stitches and my mom was freaking out about having to take me to the er and explain everything.

but right before our very eyes, we watched the cut start to heal. it's fair to say that we were both scared out of our minds because of the whole thing. instead of my mom being supportive and telling me not to worry like a good mother would (though why i'd ever think that could happen is a mystery), she called me a freak. told me to get out of her house and that she hoped she'd never see me again. what was a fourteen year old to do?

so i ran. made it for almost a month until some little old lady called the police after seeing me attempt to steal something from the convenience store. they picked me up with every intention of following through with the typical runaway procedure, though the one cop noticed i looked particularly healthy for someone who had been living on the streets for a month. someone caught wind of it and, next thing i knew, i was being whipped off to belmont city. yeah, that's right. my dad was a gifted and he passed his mutant genes on to his daughter. the only thing i ever got from him.

at first, it seemed like a godsend. what kid doesn't want to live at the beach, right? i hadn't quite realized how horrible of a place it was until it was much too late. i was stuck in those stupid labs for two years straight, where those damn scientists (if you could really call them that. i prefer the term torturer) poked and prodded and tested and did everything else imaginable. i think they must've messed with my genetics some, giving me the power to project a force field.

and then i escaped. it's hard to say how - the whole night was a blur. but some of the other prisoners had hatched an escape plan and i happened to get mixed up in it at the last minute. whatever, right? it got me out. and was going to get the hell out of dodge. until i met up with some other escapees. they told me no matter how fast i ran and no matter how far i got, those...things would find me again. we were stronger together, they said.

that was the point when i realized we were on our own. just me and a couple other gifted. but if we all stuck together, we'd be stronger than individuals running around like chickens with their heads cut off. eventually, we found the plague and joined their cause. i worked hard to get where i am today, to prove that i could be head nurse. no one wanted to believe that a girl as small and fragile as me could handle such a big job. but i proved them wrong and fell in love with every single member of the plague. they're my family now."





^{hey, so i'm kel . i've been roleplaying for six years (?) now. as well as this character, i also play none yet (but, oh there will be). you can reach me by pm if you need me for anything. i found made up stories by being an admin and i'm pretty glad i did. here's an example of mah skillz. (:}

Darby had been hoping the stranger would leave. Despite the saying “don’t hold your breath,” she had been. Honestly, she wouldn’t have though poorly of him if he had chosen to continue running. But with the immediate danger went the redhead’s bravado. Without the first, the second didn’t exist and since the two were no longer in any immediate danger, Darby’s shyness came flooding back. She couldn’t look the guy in the eyes, staring at everything else but them. There was the possibility that Darby even looked a slight bit twitchy. Her nervousness was over obvious and you’d have to be a blind fool to miss it. And yet, the guy stayed there. What was Darby supposed to do?

She could only nod when he asked about the kid being safe, her grasp on the English language momentarily eluding her. It always did in situations such as these, making Darby seem silent and stuck up. She was slightly offended by the idea that this guy thought she would just leave a child to fend for himself. Darby coming back to help the guy out might not have been one of her brightest moments, but she was typically a smart girl and she would’ve known that that wasn’t a good thing to do. Still, Darby didn’t state the slight irritation she felt towards the assumption, seeing as how that would’ve required her to actually talk and possibly create some sort of conflict.

Conflict was no good for her. This whole day had been too much for her. An overload, so to speak. She was the type to keep her head down and hide until any disagreement was blown over. It was so much unlike her sisters and the majority of the Ellis clan, all of whom were stubborn, bull headed fighters. A tiny bit of that had shone through for Darby today, but it was a first (and most likely the last). Truth be told, Darby wasn’t sure what had made her act quite like that today. Sure, the guy had been in trouble and if she were a noble sort of person, she’d say that was the reason she had rushed to his aid. But the girl was neither noble nor courageous and the whole thing had been too out of character for Darby’s comfort.

The avoidance of conflict also held Darby’s tongue as the man mentioned that she shouldn’t have come back. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, feeling as if she didn’t need a lecture after thoroughly chewing herself out for being stupid. And of course she didn’t agree with the fact that he would’ve been alright had Darby not come back. Men were known for being overly macho and that was what Darby chalked the comment up to. Two against one wasn’t a very fair odd and vampires could be particularly malicious creatures. Even a hunter – someone specially trained to deal with the threat vampires imposed – wouldn’t have done well with those odds. So who exactly did this guy think he was?

The girl, lost in her own thoughts and nervousness, jumped slightly and let out a faint squeak when the guy knelt down to help her tie the strip of cloth around her hand. Observant eyes stared at his fingers as he expertly made a knot in the fabric. She was careful to not look up, dreading the thought of making eye contact. And yet, it happened anyway and when it did, Darby felt her heart stop beating for a moment or two before kicking into over drive. Forget her being nervous; Darby was ten times worse around members (especially attractive members) of the opposite sex. She hadn’t had much time to really look at the guy up until this point, considering the whole “lives in danger” situation they had met in. But now that things had slowed a bit, Darby knew she was in trouble. That small smile kept Darby’s tongue tied and her mind flying in a thousand different directions.

Maybe if she were more confident, bolder, wittier (aka maybe if she wasn’t Darby) she would’ve shot off some flirty comment in the guy’s direction, somewhere along the lines of him making a habit of playing hero. But because she was Darby and not some heroine from the books she often read, her eyes traveled to her injured hand and she inspected the handiwork of the makeshift bandage. It was much better than she would’ve been able to do on her own and she wanted to say thank you. But with her whole being focused on the stranger, it was almost impossible for Darby to form coherent words in her head, much less say something out loud.

Then his next comment cut through the jumbled mess in Darby’s mind and she was finally able to actually speak. “You’re the first to say that.” And probably the last. Darby couldn’t keep herself from destroying this idea of a confident and courageous girl that it seemed like the guy was trying to build. The whole thing had been an unexplained, temporary moment of insanity and nothing more. It wasn’t anything to be proud of nor should it be commended. She wanted to continue to expose the fallacies behind the guy’s idea of her, but the next comment stopped her cold.

For anyone normal, it might not have been a big deal. Sure, a gentleman offering to walk you home might seem nearly extinct in this day and age and the fact that he was a stranger made the whole situation odd. But it wasn’t something to panic over, like Darby was clearly beginning to do. No, that hadn’t been what had caused a streak of fear to shoot through the young woman. What was causing the issue was the fact that Darby was an Ellis.

Outside of the supernatural world, that didn’t mean much. But once you understood the politics of the hidden world, you knew the Ellis clan wasn’t the greatest to mess with. They were cruel, notoriously ruthless, and some of the biggest advocates for supernatural dominance of the world. In short, you wanted to avoid contact with them if possible. Of course the guy would know none of this because he had no clue who she was, but guaranteed he would’ve bolted if he found out.

It wouldn’t be safe for him if he were to walk Darby home. There was no doubt in her mind that Momma Ellis would see her daughter with a complete and total stranger and be raging mad. There was a possibility she’d kill the guy simply because she could and then ask questions later. Darby hadn’t gone through all the trouble stupidity she had today to just get the guy killed anyway. Despite her aversion to conflict, Darby had to put her foot down with this request. “I can make it home by m-myself,” Darby said, trying to sound confident and secretly proud that she had stuttered only once. She stayed where she was sitting though, not really sure what to do after making a bold statement like that.

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