Post by Pernilla Bass on Jun 5, 2011 22:45:03 GMT -5
pernilla marie bass
"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."
[/center][/size][/font]full name: Pernilla Marie Bass
age: Seventeen
heirtage: Polish, but American.
race: Faerie (the humanoid form, not pixie form)
height: 5' 5''
weight: 125 lbs
hair: Blonde with a splash of red. Occasionally white-blonde. Generally just to her back.
eyes: Brown
play by: Kornelia Strzelecka
persona style: She will wear anything, but prefers the rebellious trends that most people are afraid to try. Hareem trousers in leopard print, skin tight black dresses with hot pink leggings, or 1940's garden party dresses with flair. She is darling with the fashion.
[/size][/font]likes: physical touch (not in the naughty way. She likes hugs and playing with people's hair and whatnot); fruit, the park, smashing things (namely cars), getting people into trouble on her behalf, being spoiled, laughter (malicious or not), shadowhunters (mainly because her fellow faeries don't), elephants, dancing, sweets
dislikes: Iron (ergo, the city streets), humans, werewolves, harsh light, meat, shoes, girls, getting hurt, being under pressure, heat, country music, cilantro, polo shirts
strengths: tomfoolery, distracting, making noise, dancing, fashion, archery, daggers.
weaknesses: baby animals, remembering important things, telling the whole truth, hand-to-hand combat, gullible.
overall personality: Nilla is a vain, bossy, rotten, sneaky, and atypical faerie. Yes, despite those dreadful flaws, Pernilla is a perfectly acceptable faerie. Most faeries are hateful and crude, but Pernilla is surprisingly lovable. She would never play tricks on a child; they're too innocent and adorable. And she doesn't mind shadowhunters. Yes, faeries respect them, but very few actually like them. Nilla finds them fascinating and brave. As for Downworlders, she really only has a problem with werewolves (she suspects they have fleas). As for the rest, she secretly loves vampires, but for the most part their offstandish personalities (unless, you know, they're thirsty) prevent them from meeting her. Who knows, though.
Pernilla is a restless teenager with a lot of personality. She'll try anything (if you make whatever it is sound believably good), and is therefore particularly experimental. She likes to party, but it's hard for her to go into the city what with the bad air and iron smells. She is quirky and silly toward friends, bitter and taunting towards others, can pack a punch (most likely verbally), and is overall very vivacious.
[/size]family members: Her father is a knight in the Seelie Court. Her mother died recently. No siblings.
other known realitives: A crazy aunt named Vermilda.
hometown: The middle of nowhere Kansas. Legitimately. Like a no-name town.
overall history: Pernilla's history is actually very dull for a faerie in this day and age. She was born just seventeen years ago. Her parents were faeries living in a farm house near the only pond in wherever Kansas they lived. She stayed there until she was nine, when her father was officially knighted. In her Kansas years, she grew to love the simple things. A bird nest. The two family cows. She was a pretty nice child. Granted, they didn't really have neighbors.
When she moved to the faerie realm, she was taunted by other faeries for her simpleton ways and country style. She was a regular Dorothy, and they, well they were regular faeries. They even made fun of her wings, which she never understood. They were fine and classy, no problem there. She didn't like their little pixie bodies and called them flies. Needless to say, she started loathing her fellow faeries, all but the males and the adults. But she did learn from them, how to be taunting and bad and all. Those habits she soon collected. Her mother died from a rare fever when she was fifteen. After that, her dad tried to spoil her with his newly found knight-money. She gladly took it and fled to New York City to get a more fashion foreword and daring style. She still keeps in touch with her father. That's about it.
[/font][/blockquote][/blockquote]Quote from another site.
It was one of those curiously still December days, you know, when the wind isn’t blowing and the temperature doesn’t feel quite so cold? Well it was days like these that Penelope liked best. She could wear a coats and scarf, but a hat wasn’t top priority, and generic gloves were fine enough. She prodded through the streets of Hogsmeade, her shoes making no more than a tiny clop.. clop.. noise. She was light as a feather, so to speak. It seemed that no matter how hard Penelope tried, she just couldn’t be loud. Not in walking, nor the way she turned pages of books, in fact, Penelope didn’t even speak! She took the phrase “quiet as a mouse” in human form.
This lovely day was one in which Penelope was in cunning spirits. She wanted to be up to no good, but her endearing and princess-esque cover made her tomfoolery seem sweet and somehow praiseworthy. But she didn’t want that. She wanted an old man to chase after her with a broken broom handle saying “GIT OFFA MY LAAAWN” like she’d seen in the movies. But sadly, there were no cranky old men with yards or a deep Southern accent to replay any moments such as those. Therefore, Penelope didn’t even know where to begin to start causing any sort of mild havoc. That is, until she noticed a certain housemate nearby. It was just out of the corner of her eye, but she was pretty sure she saw Fergus turn a corner just as she turned her head to look.
Now, it may seem sketchy, but Penelope had kept an eye on Fergus for a good while. People seemed to hate him, calling him annoying as a lesser of the fair names he’d received. But Penelope saw him as adventurous and rather charming. He knew just how to get into sorts of trouble, a skill which Penelope mostly lacked. She was sure he’d noticed her pulling pranks before. She just stood back silently and watched, most likely laughing to herself in the end. This all sounds sort of creepy, but it was nothing unusual for Penelope, and people tended to get used to her watchful presence.
So in hopes of achieving some disapproving words from strangers, Penelope headed off in this boy’s direction. She didn’t really know what to expect. Nor did she know what she would do when she got there. In fact, that thought hadn’t crossed her mind until she reached the street corner, where she stopped, looked both directions, and nearly sulked. Penelope couldn’t just walk up and say, “Hi, my name is Penelope, mind if I tag along?” No, she was too voice-shy for that. For most of Penelope’s friends, it took months, or at least a great deal of time around each other, for her to say something. But then, if she just walked up to him, smiled, and followed him as he walked away, she would seem like quite the loon. Therefore, Penelope had almost reached a point of retreat. But wanting that to happen was at the bottom of her list. So, being full of wishful thinking, Penelope sort of just.. hoped that he would see her and ask her to tag along. Or, at least that he would just see her. That may, in fact, suffice.
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