Post by Princess Katie on Oct 7, 2008 21:57:51 GMT -5
Name: Cherry Theodora Clarke
Age: She has been around since the prohibition, but looks to be in her mid-to-late twenties.
Gender: Female
Group: Nightmare. Cherry has no strong bias, but prefers to choose who to hate on a person-by-person basis.
Occupation: After her boyfriend, Liam “Brolly” O'Shaughnessy, was detained and thrown in the Rissa Grande, Cherry took over their restaurant (which had previously been only a cover for their less-than-laudable real business) and now runs it with lackluster enthusiasm.
Appearance: The epitome of the 1920’s ideal woman, Cherry is a “lovely lady with a classy chassis”. She is reed-thin and quite dainty, with minimal curves and a sweet face. Cherry is pale, but she powders herself paler. Her lashes and brows are dark, but she paints them darker. The Cupid’s Bow of her lips are very defined, but she pencils them in more dramatically. Her beauty mark (right below her left eye) is cute, but she pencils it in to make it even cuter. Everything that Cherry likes about herself, she adjusts to make it even better. The result: everything about Cherry is very extreme.
She wears her hair cropped to her mid-cheek, sometimes straightened and sometimes finger-waved. The black of her hair is so shiny and opaque, it looks almost like shoe-polish; she dyes it that unnatural shade, though it’s normally an average black. She went through a phase where she wore it blonde for a long while, but her boyfriend didn’t like it. Her raccoon-like makeup around her wide green-blue eyes is almost painfully dark against her powder-white skin, rouged cheeks, and oxblood lipstick. The toothpick-like frame that the flapper (effortlessly) maintains is only enhanced by the long lines of her waistless dresses, thigh-length cardigans, and mile-long lavalieres. Cherry is rarely seen without her heavy mask of makeup or her long cigarette holder perched delicately between her lips.
Cherry has a face and a voice absolutely made for moving pictures. Silent ones. The combination of a heavy Queens accent and a shrill voice is almost a caricature of Judy Holiday’s with a generous sprinkling of Harley Quinn’s on top.
Personality: With ferocity disproportionate to her doe-eyed gaze, her little cherub lips, and her squeaky voice, Cherry is surprisingly tough. Her stereotypical ‘f**k-You-I’m-From-New-York’ attitude transcends just about every situation. She could be on her death bed and still offer up a loud Bronx cheer to anyone who crossed her. While not physically suited for brawling, her stick-to-itiveness has, in past situations, allowed her to conquer enemies much larger than herself. Her high-maintenance habits and seemingly arbitrary mood swings make Cherry a hard person to stay around for very long, though some say her penchant for attitude-ridden anecdotes makes up for it. Most others disagree.
Powers: Though not very scary, nor incredibly useful for a fight, Cherry’s makes her line of work much easier. Cherry can turn any liquid, from water to ink to the blood in someone’s veins, into the alcohol of her choice. The quality of the liquor is directly correlated to her mood. If Cherry feels blah, the booze tastes blah, if she feels strong, the booze tastes strong.
In addition, Cherry can read Spanish. She cannot speak Spanish nor understand verbal Spanish, but can read the most technical Spanish as if it were her first language. It's a mystery.
History: Created in the age of jazz-music, drop-waist dresses, the Ford Model T, and The Prohibition, Cherry is a textbook example of the 1920’s “It” Girl. She did everything that girls before 1920 would die before doing, especially in public; she smoked cigarettes, wore obvious makeup, did a little more than dance with boys, and got involved in organized crime.
In the fifth year of her life, Cherry settled down with her long-term boyfriend of three and a half months, “Lucky” Jimmy McPherson. The two were heading to a dinner date in downtown Chimera when Lucky’s car was gunned down, causing Lucky to lose control of the car and slam into a lamppost. Cherry, as skinny as she was, (and, of course, not wearing her seatbelt) was flung out of the convertible, knocking her head on the asphalt, blacking out before she even tumbled to a stop. When she finally came-to, she was lying on a leather couch in a dimly-lit, smoky room, surrounded by men in suits.
“HAY WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA? WHAT’S GOIN’ ON, HMM? WHERE’S LUCKY? WHO ARE YOUS?” She demanded in a rapid-fire, customarily squeaky voice. She was fierce, even after being thrown around like a ragdoll into a rather unforgiving patch of cement. One of the men, a tall redheaded fellow with an air of authority and a heavy Irish accent, helped her up from the couch (and boy did her whole body ache) and told her of the evening’s events, through most of which she was unconscious. Lucky, he told her, had been killed in the crash, the crash which was caused by gunfire from a rival gang.
Gang? Cherry was shocked. Lucky had never mentioned anything about a gang, but that did kinda explain the weird nickname, the fact that Lucky worked at a restaurant and made serious bank, and why he kept a Tommy Gun in a violin case in the back seat of his car. Everything made sense now.
The redhead reminded Cherry several times how sorry he and “The Boss” were that Cherry’s main squeeze was now singin’ with the Angels. But he, Liam ‘Brolly’ O’ Shaughnessy (so named because he killed a man with an umbrella once), swore that he would be there, personally to comfort her, should she need it.
And, oh, comfort he did.
On the very night of Lucky’s funeral, O'Shaughnessy saw Cherry home. And she invited him into her little apartment for a cuppa joe; she was distraught, she didn’t want to be alone right now. A cup of coffee led to her crying on his shoulder, and that led to less wholesome activities. It would be unkind to say that O’Shaughnessy took advantage of little emotional Cherry, or that Cherry, whose boyfriend was not even cold in the ground yet, should have exhibited a little restraint. None the less, Cherry T. and Brolly O'Shaughnessy made sleeping together a habit, and eventually he asked her to be his permanent sweetheart, and she accepted.
They had a fairly normal relationship, considering he was second-in-charge of a mob of murdering, money-laundering, drug-dealing Irishmen and she was a little Queens flapper with a bad attitude and the ability to turn anything into hard liquor. They went steady for several years, Cherry proved to be quite adapted at making their restaurant-cover seem very realistic. She was the Snow White to their several mobster dwarves. Cherry stayed mostly out of the way of the mob politics, but found herself as First Lady of the gang when The Boss was killed by the same gang that killed her Lucky all those years ago, and O'Shaughnessy was appointed The New Boss.
Everything was copacetic. Cherry was spoiled rotten; she had all the latest, all the nicest. She loved her man and her man loved her and the world was their oyster of back-alley deals and cement shoes. Everything was just great until Chimera got joined with Dreamland, and there was suddenly actual law enforcement. Apparently, the L.O.S. didn’t like O'Shaughnessy and his gang having gun fights and ‘endangering citizens’. Whatever. They shouldn’t have jumped in the line of fire. O'Shaughnessy and several of his cohorts were imprisoned; Cherry was spared because they really had no proof of her doing anything that was actually illegal in Chimera. So she kept on running their little restaurant, though no one ever came there for food, they came there for liquor. She has done her best to keep the remaining members of the mob loyal to her Brolly through his lengthy imprisonment.
As you may well imagine, Miss Cherry T. was not so happy about having her Sugar Daddy locked up. She visits the Rissa Grande at least bi-weekly to talk to him, oftentimes smuggling him in letters and newspaper clippings and booze by tucking it into her garter and going about her business. Through her more-than-frequent visits, Cherry learned that the prison keep would not check under her skirt for contraband.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uvkwu6113fs <- Perfect example of Cherry-talk.
Age: She has been around since the prohibition, but looks to be in her mid-to-late twenties.
Gender: Female
Group: Nightmare. Cherry has no strong bias, but prefers to choose who to hate on a person-by-person basis.
Occupation: After her boyfriend, Liam “Brolly” O'Shaughnessy, was detained and thrown in the Rissa Grande, Cherry took over their restaurant (which had previously been only a cover for their less-than-laudable real business) and now runs it with lackluster enthusiasm.
Appearance: The epitome of the 1920’s ideal woman, Cherry is a “lovely lady with a classy chassis”. She is reed-thin and quite dainty, with minimal curves and a sweet face. Cherry is pale, but she powders herself paler. Her lashes and brows are dark, but she paints them darker. The Cupid’s Bow of her lips are very defined, but she pencils them in more dramatically. Her beauty mark (right below her left eye) is cute, but she pencils it in to make it even cuter. Everything that Cherry likes about herself, she adjusts to make it even better. The result: everything about Cherry is very extreme.
She wears her hair cropped to her mid-cheek, sometimes straightened and sometimes finger-waved. The black of her hair is so shiny and opaque, it looks almost like shoe-polish; she dyes it that unnatural shade, though it’s normally an average black. She went through a phase where she wore it blonde for a long while, but her boyfriend didn’t like it. Her raccoon-like makeup around her wide green-blue eyes is almost painfully dark against her powder-white skin, rouged cheeks, and oxblood lipstick. The toothpick-like frame that the flapper (effortlessly) maintains is only enhanced by the long lines of her waistless dresses, thigh-length cardigans, and mile-long lavalieres. Cherry is rarely seen without her heavy mask of makeup or her long cigarette holder perched delicately between her lips.
Cherry has a face and a voice absolutely made for moving pictures. Silent ones. The combination of a heavy Queens accent and a shrill voice is almost a caricature of Judy Holiday’s with a generous sprinkling of Harley Quinn’s on top.
Personality: With ferocity disproportionate to her doe-eyed gaze, her little cherub lips, and her squeaky voice, Cherry is surprisingly tough. Her stereotypical ‘f**k-You-I’m-From-New-York’ attitude transcends just about every situation. She could be on her death bed and still offer up a loud Bronx cheer to anyone who crossed her. While not physically suited for brawling, her stick-to-itiveness has, in past situations, allowed her to conquer enemies much larger than herself. Her high-maintenance habits and seemingly arbitrary mood swings make Cherry a hard person to stay around for very long, though some say her penchant for attitude-ridden anecdotes makes up for it. Most others disagree.
Powers: Though not very scary, nor incredibly useful for a fight, Cherry’s makes her line of work much easier. Cherry can turn any liquid, from water to ink to the blood in someone’s veins, into the alcohol of her choice. The quality of the liquor is directly correlated to her mood. If Cherry feels blah, the booze tastes blah, if she feels strong, the booze tastes strong.
In addition, Cherry can read Spanish. She cannot speak Spanish nor understand verbal Spanish, but can read the most technical Spanish as if it were her first language. It's a mystery.
History: Created in the age of jazz-music, drop-waist dresses, the Ford Model T, and The Prohibition, Cherry is a textbook example of the 1920’s “It” Girl. She did everything that girls before 1920 would die before doing, especially in public; she smoked cigarettes, wore obvious makeup, did a little more than dance with boys, and got involved in organized crime.
In the fifth year of her life, Cherry settled down with her long-term boyfriend of three and a half months, “Lucky” Jimmy McPherson. The two were heading to a dinner date in downtown Chimera when Lucky’s car was gunned down, causing Lucky to lose control of the car and slam into a lamppost. Cherry, as skinny as she was, (and, of course, not wearing her seatbelt) was flung out of the convertible, knocking her head on the asphalt, blacking out before she even tumbled to a stop. When she finally came-to, she was lying on a leather couch in a dimly-lit, smoky room, surrounded by men in suits.
“HAY WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA? WHAT’S GOIN’ ON, HMM? WHERE’S LUCKY? WHO ARE YOUS?” She demanded in a rapid-fire, customarily squeaky voice. She was fierce, even after being thrown around like a ragdoll into a rather unforgiving patch of cement. One of the men, a tall redheaded fellow with an air of authority and a heavy Irish accent, helped her up from the couch (and boy did her whole body ache) and told her of the evening’s events, through most of which she was unconscious. Lucky, he told her, had been killed in the crash, the crash which was caused by gunfire from a rival gang.
Gang? Cherry was shocked. Lucky had never mentioned anything about a gang, but that did kinda explain the weird nickname, the fact that Lucky worked at a restaurant and made serious bank, and why he kept a Tommy Gun in a violin case in the back seat of his car. Everything made sense now.
The redhead reminded Cherry several times how sorry he and “The Boss” were that Cherry’s main squeeze was now singin’ with the Angels. But he, Liam ‘Brolly’ O’ Shaughnessy (so named because he killed a man with an umbrella once), swore that he would be there, personally to comfort her, should she need it.
And, oh, comfort he did.
On the very night of Lucky’s funeral, O'Shaughnessy saw Cherry home. And she invited him into her little apartment for a cuppa joe; she was distraught, she didn’t want to be alone right now. A cup of coffee led to her crying on his shoulder, and that led to less wholesome activities. It would be unkind to say that O’Shaughnessy took advantage of little emotional Cherry, or that Cherry, whose boyfriend was not even cold in the ground yet, should have exhibited a little restraint. None the less, Cherry T. and Brolly O'Shaughnessy made sleeping together a habit, and eventually he asked her to be his permanent sweetheart, and she accepted.
They had a fairly normal relationship, considering he was second-in-charge of a mob of murdering, money-laundering, drug-dealing Irishmen and she was a little Queens flapper with a bad attitude and the ability to turn anything into hard liquor. They went steady for several years, Cherry proved to be quite adapted at making their restaurant-cover seem very realistic. She was the Snow White to their several mobster dwarves. Cherry stayed mostly out of the way of the mob politics, but found herself as First Lady of the gang when The Boss was killed by the same gang that killed her Lucky all those years ago, and O'Shaughnessy was appointed The New Boss.
Everything was copacetic. Cherry was spoiled rotten; she had all the latest, all the nicest. She loved her man and her man loved her and the world was their oyster of back-alley deals and cement shoes. Everything was just great until Chimera got joined with Dreamland, and there was suddenly actual law enforcement. Apparently, the L.O.S. didn’t like O'Shaughnessy and his gang having gun fights and ‘endangering citizens’. Whatever. They shouldn’t have jumped in the line of fire. O'Shaughnessy and several of his cohorts were imprisoned; Cherry was spared because they really had no proof of her doing anything that was actually illegal in Chimera. So she kept on running their little restaurant, though no one ever came there for food, they came there for liquor. She has done her best to keep the remaining members of the mob loyal to her Brolly through his lengthy imprisonment.
As you may well imagine, Miss Cherry T. was not so happy about having her Sugar Daddy locked up. She visits the Rissa Grande at least bi-weekly to talk to him, oftentimes smuggling him in letters and newspaper clippings and booze by tucking it into her garter and going about her business. Through her more-than-frequent visits, Cherry learned that the prison keep would not check under her skirt for contraband.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uvkwu6113fs <- Perfect example of Cherry-talk.