Name: Zoey Stone.
Birthday: April 3, 1996.
Gender: Female.
History: Zoey was the youngest of four and the only girl. Zale and Zane, the terrible twins, were four years older than her, and Zeus, the big, strong, solid bear of a brother that was always just "oldest". Zale and Zane held the Weasley twins as their idols and despite their disappointing lack of magical ability, their pranks were enormous in magnitude and always admirable in intellectual terms. Zoey's sarcastic sense of humour and quick-wittedness mostly originated from them. Zeus had a name to live up to, and spent ridiculous amounts of time at the gym, but, as the cliche was with guys who seemed to have more muscle mass than organs, he was an enormous softy and his tough act was just that, an act. He always insisted on driving Zoey to school on the first day in his intimidating red convertible with big sunglasses on, scaring off any potential advantage-taking dickheads before they even surfaced. She loved her brothers like nothing else in the world and held them in her highest regard.
Her parents divorced quietly when she was seven years old, and though it was technically not the most legal thing ever, they let her choose where she wanted to stay. She stayed with her mother in the city during the school year and went out to her father's acreage in the summer for several years, and then her father moved to Chicago with his new girlfriend and she didn't want to have to live cross-country from the other half of her life. Swallowing her guilt for leaving her mother as best as possible, she went to live with her father, who barely noticed her there at all.
Zoey liked to make up a variety of sob stories to mask the relatively normal and uninteresting childhood she had had, so no one she met after moving to Chicago really knew where she'd come from. The tragic tale was never told the same way twice, and grew more and more imaginative in terms of heartwrenching irony as time wore on. She learned to juggle and to yodel and to climb trees to make herself more interesting. She tried so hard to stand out that, she was constantly worried, she blended right back in.
Appearance:
(Sorry sorry sorry for the obnoxiously huge image. BBCode is a buttface.)
Ever since she could remember, Zoey dyed her hair some shade mimicking fire, fire hydrant or sunny yellow or something in between, a gentle fade from coral to peach. "So people can find me in crowds," she'd reply if you asked her, but it was really because she hated her natural hair colour. She hadn't really seen it in several years, but last she checked, it was a light brown that was vaguely mousy and utterly unremarkable. That was something she was terrified of - being common, ordinary. So she dyed her hair and wore neon clothing and whirled through life trying to leave a mark on as many people as possible.
Her eyes were that ambiguous shade of bluegreengreyhazel, the shade that changed depending on the light and sometimes her mood, the shade that girls with brown eyes were jealous of. She, for one, hated it - it was inconvenient when she was choosing her outfits and impossible to put down on official forms. Sometimes she just checked all the boxes that applied, and sometimes, if her self-esteem was particularly hardy that day, she chose to brave the deprecating looks she got when people thought she couldn't tell her own eye colour.
Unremarkable skin; not quite pale enough to give her nicknames like Ginger or Vampire, not quite dark enough that, if she were in a corny romance novel, she could be described as having "faintly olive toned skin, hinting at Italian roots". An irregular sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks, more on her right side than left. She sometimes connected the dots with a thin blue pen, pretending that they were stars and she was making constellations. A small, unobtrusive nose that her glasses constantly slid down, forcing her to wear contacts even though the idea of sticking little pieces of plastic in her eyes was repulsive to her. She wished she had a big nose. Big noses had personality, presence. She was tragically thin-lipped and had a small gap between her front two teeth.
She spent more time on her clothes and hair and makeup than she wished she did. She liked to think that she was the kind of girl who didn't care what people thought of her, but she never really fooled herself into believing that. She knew the power of the first judgement, the sight, and if there was one flaw in the minds of humans that she could cure, that would be it. Unfair first judgement. She'd wished she was a boy before, just to escape the girly world of pretending to be someone you weren't.
She never got called pretty. On first sight, people often thought that she was one of those anime-obsessed, cosplaying kids who only left her computer to go to video game conventions. Odd, but not pretty. Once someone made an effort to get to know her, she did her very best to override everything that they might have assumed about her by being loud and exuberant and happy. Bright, but not pretty. She liked to wear quirky things like suspenders and fedoras and horrendous knee-high Fluevogs she found in the attic. Zany, but not pretty. She was tall and had endless legs and often got called hot by semi-intoxicated idiots at parties. Never pretty though. Never pretty.
Personality:
Zoey was the typical teenager. She rejected authority and did her very best to be unique in a world where being different meant being alone. She scorned the poetry of the lovesick teenager in front of other people, but wrote it when nobody was around. She did drugs and she smoked and she drank when that was rebellious, but when that became the teenage norm, she cleaned herself up and barely touched them from then on. She was strong and she knew what she believed in. She was a little bit sheltered and fell in love too easily. She ate constantly. Her internal clock was completely screwed up, so that sometimes she couldn't get back to sleep after waking up at four in the morning with only three hours of sleep, and sometimes she could go to bed at seven and get up at noon still tired. She had the occasional bad day when she couldn't stand the world, and hated herself on those days. Not because she thought she was fat or thought she was unloved or thought she'd never be successful. She hated herself for hating herself for hating herself and it was a vicious cycle until she knocked herself out with the effort of hating everything.
She was afraid of lots of things. Fire, bugs, being alone, loving someone who didn't love her back.
She always nicknamed people. By refusing to call her friends the names that were thrust upon them with no input of their own, she, in her mind, freed them from that oppression. She introduced herself as the Queen Zee, Zozerbean, Zamboni. Anything but Zoey. She didn't mind when people called her that later, but she refused to become a word.
Her greatest passion was reading. She always had a book tucked into her bag, conspicuously un-dogeared (because treating a book with that level of disrespect was practically blasphemy), and she'd curl herself into a ball, push her hair behind her ears, and immerse herself in the world of little black words anywhere. On the bus, during long weekends, when she skipped class.
She was affectionate and smart and exceptionally good at talking. School didn't matter much to her because, in the high school environment, it was easy to fake comprehension, and she didn't believe in planning for the future simply to plan for the future. She lived her life to the fullest, damn the consequences, but despite that, she did her best to stay out of trouble and followed safety in numbers when she needed to.
Quite simply, she lived.
Sample RP: trolololololo
