The Big Damn Original Characters ApplicationYour â€˜Realâ€™ Name (or preferred 'out of character' Handle):
TaokanHow Often You Can Post:
Fairly often, barring complications.Tell Us About Your Roleplay Past/Abilities:
Well, there was this one time I made a character on this Firefly board and I think they're breeding or something. Send help.How Familiar Are You With The Firefly 'Verse?:
If you hum a few bars i can fake it.How Did You Hear About The BDV Site?:
Oh, the wonders of a random google search for 'Firefly RP'
____________________________________________________________________In your mind, you can picture your Original Character...now let us 'see' them.If you could 'cast' the role of your OC, who would play the part: Carey MulliganWhat BDV ship/location do want to be assigned to:
The Vindicator Character Name:
FemaleAge (the character, not the actor/actress):
23Detailed Physical Description (2 PARAGRAPHS):
Tsurin's tiny. She started out small, and never really made it past five feet before other things got in the way. She tends to hunch and creep, looking even smaller than she really is, in an attempt to appear as unassuming and nonthreatening as possible. Her clothing tends to reflect this-- she is most comfortable in clothing that provides some amount of protection- typically padded layers or leather, often favoring hoods and long sleeves that she can pull low over her hands.
She has a scattering of scars across her belly and upper thighs, including a mottled patch between her breasts that has never been explained. More unusual, though, is the occasional flash of purple glimpsed under her sleeves. The delicate tracery of scarification, cutting of the skin colored by blood and the ash of the dead, that wraps around the joints of her arms and legs. Detailed Personality (2 PARAGRAPHS) :
The first and most readily obvious thing of note about Tsurin is just how very small she is-- not in terms of stature, but in how she portrays herself, in how she interacts with the world. She usually hangs back behind Vanya, letting the older woman speak for her. When she does speak, it is with a low, rough kind of bluntness masquerading as honesty-- it is at this point that most figure out that she isn't hiding back there out of fear, or shyness, because there is none of that past the slow simmering wall of suspicion laid bare in her eyes.
She is not a bad person. She just thinks everyone else is.
If and when she does open up to someone is when that suspicion comes back around to the uncertainty that created it in the first place. Social interaction is hardly one of her strong suits, and when frustrated or confused (as she easily is), she tends to default back to that old, peculiar mix of belligerence and naivete.Detailed History(2 OR MORE PARAGRAPHS):
Born Ashei, Tsurin was raised in a relatively isolated mountain community on Paquin by her mother and father. She had an older brother, Leto, but he was away working, so she mostly saw him through vids and letters. It was an idyllic enough life, until the Reavers came. She was eight years old.
She prefers not to think about that. Or the time that came after-- even now, it disturbs her how it broke her so much, how even hearing the word can strip so many years away, reducing her again to a terrified ball of anger and fear.
For a long time, everything hurt. She lived in a burnt out toolshed behind the McCallister's barn, for lack of a better term, scrounging for food in the woods and fields and running away at the sight of people, until the day came when she ran too slow, and they caught her.
She doesn't remember too much of that time, either, but that was when she first saw Vanya. Vanya made things simpler. Better. She didn't have to be afraid of 'do this' or 'do that,' or 'play with me' because there was no alternative to agonize over. It was all laid out so clear, and she cleaved to that. Still does. In a world where everyone else insists on seeing the world in shades of grey, Tsurin does not. There is good and evil, and she also knows what side she would likely fall on. But. There is also Vanya's side and Not Vanya's side, and she knows what side she falls on there, too.
It is at this time, before everything got worse, that she learned to cook. That was before Vanya learned to cook, too, but her things were more likely to catch the air in the kitchen on fire. And that was even before she started making bombs.
Nothing really changed after the party. Not for her. Vanya got harder around the eyes and mouth, but she still knew what to do. And Tsurin did it. Vanya said who to bomb, and when, and Tsurin did it. Vanya said to stand in the way of the Feds and her, and she did.
That's the way it's always been. The way it should be.Strengths (1 paragraph):
Tsurin is virtually fearless in battle, and is quite capable at various types of weaponry, though she prefers small caliber firearms.
Cooking is one of the few forms of self-expression she allows herself, and takes no small amount of pleasure in seeing people enjoy her food. Seeing
it, mind you-- being outwardly complimented on it usually earns a look, and less bacon by the time the plate comes around again.Weaknesses (1 paragraph):
Vanya. Full stop.
Beyond that, Tsurin's every action is motivated not by hope or a desire for revenge or even justice, as some others on the boat are, but by fear. Her entire life seems to have formed up around it like a cancer, and she's not so sure that her life wouldn't fall apart it. What else, really, is there?Sample Post: (3 paragraphs minimum/Third Person Past Tense): Eleven years ago, the Tabris estate...'Nununu, dijete!'
Syrno said as he swatted her hand with his wooden ladle. 'I say, oregano, not cilantro! It Italian recipe.. noht Spanish!'
Taking the small pot away, and trashing its contents. 'Again, dijete..'
Tsurin scowled and rubbed at her hand, wrinkled her nose as she brought up her hand and toyed with her fingers, giving them a sniff. Smelled fine to her. What was the big deal? It was green, it smelled funny, and you put it in food so the food would taste good. Who cared what type of funny little men named them? "So?"
She muttered into the backs of her fingers, eying his ladle suspiciously. Growled when hit her with it again, on the head, this time. Then he grabbed a different one. Hmph. "Just going to throw this one out, too. Like the others."'Whell ifs stop treat'n this recipe lik'a Persephone Whore, den maybe I noht t'row it away, no?'
Placing a pan back onto the stove, he backed away. 'Tamatoes, slice, t'in, teeny cube. Heat, mash... continue..'
His thumb slowly rubbed along the handle of his fresh ladle."Can't we just use the kind in the jar?"
Syrno's voice rose to nearly a falsetto as he spoke, 'JHAR...JHAR!,'
without hesitation he whapped her even harder on the head, earning him another low growl. 'Jhar sauce it lik' lettin' a man spit on you, jhar sauce it lik' kickin' small puppy, den drinkin' piss, jhar sauce... it lik' findin' cute bunny... an' smashin' in its head. Dijete, mak'de sauce, ohr I call Mis Vanya. Lhet her know her money wasted.'
Tsurin stared at him in silence for some seconds, lips pressed together into a thin white line over her teeth. Then she grabbed the ingredients and wordlessly started the task of slicing the tomatoes. Again.