Post by dawn on Oct 26, 2009 19:31:52 GMT -5
Character's Name:
Pamela Isley, i.e. Poison Ivy
Age
26
Birthday:
September 14th
Birthplace/Hometown:
New Orleans
Gender:
Female
Occupation:
“radical florist” (eco-terrorist to the unenlightened few)
Ethnicity:
At this point? Who knows—but there’s definitely some Irish there.
Physical Profile (height, build, weight, style of dress,hair color, eye color, skin tone etc.):
Ivy hasn’t perfected the art of the Little Green Dress, but it’s not for lack of trying! Newly removed from her more human self, Ivy’s skin has taken on a slight greenish hue. Her eyes are an even darker green—their original color is lost to her. She wears form-fitting dresses and doesn’t bother to wear shoes—she prefers nothing between her feet and the grass.
Her curves aren’t radical for a woman her age, but they’re enough (and the way she flaunts them is enough) to make her figure stand out. She has a shock of red hair that is one of her many vanities—and being a walking botanical chemical plant can do wonders for the shine.
Personality:
Ivy is a sophisticated woman, a doctor, a paramour; and her ego isn’t affected at all, of course. She’s not quick to trust anyone, men least of all—but she has a soft spot for girls with potential. If you somehow manage to gain her trust (and keep it) she will do anything in her power to protect you… A manipulator at heart, Ivy sees most emotion—particularly desire—as a means of harnessing power over the weak-willed. She’s obsessed with remaining in control, and to that end can have violent outbursts if her own is compromised.
Harm a plant or raze part of the park for a condo, and you might see what she uses those outbursts for. Fanatic in her love for and connection to nature, Ivy much prefers the company of plants to that of humans, and considers them infinitely superior. They’re her friends, her children, and she the medium through which their frustration and hatred and pain can be channeled. Consequentially, Ivy is working her way up the martyr complex with a vengeance.
What Side Is Your Character On?[/b]
Villain (Though she likes to think otherwise)
Background and History:
Ivy was born to semi-wealthy businesspeople in New Orleans, and spent most of her time following her mother around the garden. From an early age, Pamela had a fierce interest in botany and science, and was given no lack of praise for her diligence and strength of mind. At the age of 13, she was attending youth environmentalist clubs and hiking into the swamps to collect soil samples. She couldn’t seem to connect with children her own age—but her parents were too blinded by her upward mobility to see it.
When she entered college, Pamela was ushered under the wings of Dr. Woodrue and Alec Holland, two brilliant doctors in the field. Holland and Woodrue became the friends Pamela had yearned for through her lonely years of childhood, and she found she actually feared losing their company. In time, she and Woodrue started a more intimate relationship, and Ivy was absolutely and almost certainly (in her eyes) head over heels. She’d do anything for him. All he had to do was ask… and one night, he did. She let him inject the test solution into her arm, and to the horror of Dr. Holland and Woodrue alike, collapsed in agonizing convulsions on the lab table. Woodrue ran—Holland attempted to drag her somewhere more comfortable, but her skin burned his hands. He could only watch as she took on a faint greenish sheen, turned her half-lidded gaze to the strands of ivy on the windowsill, which writhed in their pots…
After nearly dying under the helpless eye of her colleague, Pamela found she had taken a new perspective on life. The whimpering apologies of Woodrue were hardly important—simply the pathetic drone of a sack of flesh. Even Holland, poor, dear Holland, was almost frightened of her. And that, she realized, was as it should be. She’d outgrown her old life, plain and simple. She needed a change. Searching the vast Green for cries for protection and aid, Pamela (now Ivy) turned her sights to Gotham.
Any Special Abilities?
Ivy can control plants, to an extent. She can release toxic spores, conduct genetic and chemical experiments to flora at a touch, encourage growth and transformation. At the moment, she hasn’t perfected her powers, and she doesn’t know their full extent. Even her skin is starting to grow toxic, and she’s interested to see how it all pans out.
Pets:
Hardly. Most animals would die if she cared for them long enough…
Name of Play By:
Tori Amos.
Example Role Play:
The crystal decanter of Max Harrison’s penthouse lounge was nearly empty, dull brown light reflecting off its multifaceted stopper. Ivy carefully set it down. She ran her hand along the desk as she walked, slowly, with all the assurance of a woman who knew precisely what she was doing, toward the window. Her footsteps barely made a sound.
“So this is Gotham,” she said, pressing a hand to the window. Gotham: the seething, flesh-ridden pit of metal and smoke and exhaust, the decrepit godchild of the earth. It hunched below her, lifeless buildings winking with electric light, and for a moment the weight of its monstrous pulse nearly overcame her. She took a breath, and caught sight of the gardens far below…the gardens; and the graveyards.
How apt.
Ivy turned to Mr. Harrison, poor, wretched creature, collapsed halfway down one of his ancient brown chairs. She leant down, giving him a look that was almost tender. Motherly. It was too late for him—too late for most of them. Gotham would have to learn how to adapt, or die. It was only natural.
“Thank you, love,” she whispered, closing his sightless eyes. “I always did want a suite of my own.”
Password?
-admin edit-
Pamela Isley, i.e. Poison Ivy
Age
26
Birthday:
September 14th
Birthplace/Hometown:
New Orleans
Gender:
Female
Occupation:
“radical florist” (eco-terrorist to the unenlightened few)
Ethnicity:
At this point? Who knows—but there’s definitely some Irish there.
Physical Profile (height, build, weight, style of dress,hair color, eye color, skin tone etc.):
Ivy hasn’t perfected the art of the Little Green Dress, but it’s not for lack of trying! Newly removed from her more human self, Ivy’s skin has taken on a slight greenish hue. Her eyes are an even darker green—their original color is lost to her. She wears form-fitting dresses and doesn’t bother to wear shoes—she prefers nothing between her feet and the grass.
Her curves aren’t radical for a woman her age, but they’re enough (and the way she flaunts them is enough) to make her figure stand out. She has a shock of red hair that is one of her many vanities—and being a walking botanical chemical plant can do wonders for the shine.
Personality:
Ivy is a sophisticated woman, a doctor, a paramour; and her ego isn’t affected at all, of course. She’s not quick to trust anyone, men least of all—but she has a soft spot for girls with potential. If you somehow manage to gain her trust (and keep it) she will do anything in her power to protect you… A manipulator at heart, Ivy sees most emotion—particularly desire—as a means of harnessing power over the weak-willed. She’s obsessed with remaining in control, and to that end can have violent outbursts if her own is compromised.
Harm a plant or raze part of the park for a condo, and you might see what she uses those outbursts for. Fanatic in her love for and connection to nature, Ivy much prefers the company of plants to that of humans, and considers them infinitely superior. They’re her friends, her children, and she the medium through which their frustration and hatred and pain can be channeled. Consequentially, Ivy is working her way up the martyr complex with a vengeance.
What Side Is Your Character On?[/b]
Villain (Though she likes to think otherwise)
Background and History:
Ivy was born to semi-wealthy businesspeople in New Orleans, and spent most of her time following her mother around the garden. From an early age, Pamela had a fierce interest in botany and science, and was given no lack of praise for her diligence and strength of mind. At the age of 13, she was attending youth environmentalist clubs and hiking into the swamps to collect soil samples. She couldn’t seem to connect with children her own age—but her parents were too blinded by her upward mobility to see it.
When she entered college, Pamela was ushered under the wings of Dr. Woodrue and Alec Holland, two brilliant doctors in the field. Holland and Woodrue became the friends Pamela had yearned for through her lonely years of childhood, and she found she actually feared losing their company. In time, she and Woodrue started a more intimate relationship, and Ivy was absolutely and almost certainly (in her eyes) head over heels. She’d do anything for him. All he had to do was ask… and one night, he did. She let him inject the test solution into her arm, and to the horror of Dr. Holland and Woodrue alike, collapsed in agonizing convulsions on the lab table. Woodrue ran—Holland attempted to drag her somewhere more comfortable, but her skin burned his hands. He could only watch as she took on a faint greenish sheen, turned her half-lidded gaze to the strands of ivy on the windowsill, which writhed in their pots…
After nearly dying under the helpless eye of her colleague, Pamela found she had taken a new perspective on life. The whimpering apologies of Woodrue were hardly important—simply the pathetic drone of a sack of flesh. Even Holland, poor, dear Holland, was almost frightened of her. And that, she realized, was as it should be. She’d outgrown her old life, plain and simple. She needed a change. Searching the vast Green for cries for protection and aid, Pamela (now Ivy) turned her sights to Gotham.
Any Special Abilities?
Ivy can control plants, to an extent. She can release toxic spores, conduct genetic and chemical experiments to flora at a touch, encourage growth and transformation. At the moment, she hasn’t perfected her powers, and she doesn’t know their full extent. Even her skin is starting to grow toxic, and she’s interested to see how it all pans out.
Pets:
Hardly. Most animals would die if she cared for them long enough…
Name of Play By:
Tori Amos.
Example Role Play:
The crystal decanter of Max Harrison’s penthouse lounge was nearly empty, dull brown light reflecting off its multifaceted stopper. Ivy carefully set it down. She ran her hand along the desk as she walked, slowly, with all the assurance of a woman who knew precisely what she was doing, toward the window. Her footsteps barely made a sound.
“So this is Gotham,” she said, pressing a hand to the window. Gotham: the seething, flesh-ridden pit of metal and smoke and exhaust, the decrepit godchild of the earth. It hunched below her, lifeless buildings winking with electric light, and for a moment the weight of its monstrous pulse nearly overcame her. She took a breath, and caught sight of the gardens far below…the gardens; and the graveyards.
How apt.
Ivy turned to Mr. Harrison, poor, wretched creature, collapsed halfway down one of his ancient brown chairs. She leant down, giving him a look that was almost tender. Motherly. It was too late for him—too late for most of them. Gotham would have to learn how to adapt, or die. It was only natural.
“Thank you, love,” she whispered, closing his sightless eyes. “I always did want a suite of my own.”
Password?
-admin edit-
