Name: Theresa Quinn
Gender: Female
Age: Fourteen
Location: [the place where everyone else is] Ecruteak City?
Pokemon to Become: Meowth
Appearance: Although she is fourteen, Theresa looks around eleven. She's very small, about 4'11", and is skinny; not under-nourished skinny, but more 'greyhound skinny'. Her hair is shoulder-length and her fringe hangs over her eyes, and she wears either a red or white headband - the colour depends on her mood. She has large, grey-blue eyes that are deep-set below dark, clear eyebrows. Her skin is fair and she has few freckles.
Her attire is strange when coupled with her cute appearance. Her favourite colour is black, and she wears a sleeveless, black hooded tee-shirt with the words 'punk baby' written in gothic-style letters. She wears dark denim jeans that are frayed at the edges, and if she's not wearing it, she has a black hooded sweat shirt tied around her waist. She prefers to wear knee-high buckled boots of black leather with a high heel to make herself appear taller.
Personality: Theresa's personality is a strange one. Depending on her company, she ranges from an upbeat, childish young girl to a dark, brutish tomboy. Her cuter personality is afraid of nearly everything and has a habit of hiding behind larger people and whimpering something like, "uguu". Her tomboyish side will challenge anyone and anything without [showing] fear.
At first, Theresa can appear to be a little antisocial. She spends a lot of time staring and analysing before speaking, making sure she knows what it is possible to learn about a person before opening up to them. Either way, she has a fiery temper and will never give up on a battle of wits. She will never admit to losing an argument, and is a sore loser in general.
Love: Single, undecided - "What comes, I take."
History: Nothing particularly imporatn has ever happened in Theresa's life. She grew up in a very average family in an average house, though she attended an expensive private school in Cianwood City for five years until her family moved to Cinnabar Island in Kanto. Again, she attended another private school for two years until she came of intermediate age, and she and her parents moved to the bustling town of Saffron City. Since moving there, Theresa has attended two different schools.
The real turning point in her life came when she was thirteen. On the 26th of May, she woke up to the news that her dad was dead. The memory of lying in her bed, being awoken by her mother and the woman's soft and shaky voice never ceased playing in her mind. Her grades in school began to fall, she got sick more easily, she found herself lacking in energy, and slowly became shyer than she had been and more docile. Her friends weren't exactly upset; who doesn't want a cute, short blonde person with large blue eyes peeking out from behind their arm?
Her best friend through this initial period of trial was her pokemon, a rather pudgy little pikachu. The electric mouse had seen her best and her worst, but was always there at her side, wanting to cheer her up. And so, upon the New Year, Theresa was not entirely calm about the disappearance of pokemon. Cue this roleplay.
Other Notable Information: Honestly cannot swim to save her life. (ha ha, get it ..? Never mind >o<) Suffers depression, and can change her mood in a second or less.
Roleplay Sample: I'm taking this from a wolf roleplay from another site ... if that's okay ...
Lone Terra was a vast, virtually uninhabited place. It had little in the way of protection or hiding material, save for the odd tree scattered about. Had the circumstances been even just a little more in his favour, Kalina would have avoided this sort of area at all costs - his silver-grey pelt had made him the object of more than one hunter's desires. He supposed that there was at least one thing to be grateful for about this place - snow covered the ground, turning the landscape stark-white. In the snow, he may as well not have existed, if it had not been for his shadow. The sun still rose, as bright as ever, and so his shadow cast itself as it had always done, and would no doubt do until he died.
The silvery brute watched with sapphire gaze as his paws left identical imprints on the thin layer of snow, only for the marks to be swept away again by the falling flakes that clung to his pale hide. The snow would melt with the warmth radiating from beneath his pelt, leaving tiny droplets of water that would call to the sun and be swept up in a golden glow, spangling the wolf's entire being in light.
Auds remained pricked, and oculii darted at regular intervals, listening and watching for a hint of a pack - that was why he was here. To find a pack. As Man began to find ways of traversing the places that the wolven had once found safe, so the wolves were being pushed further and further away from their homes and closer and closer together. Wolves weren't meant to live together, but as loners. Man had disturbed much. And maybe it was the promise of power that called to him. Or perhaps the security that only a pack could offer ... Kalina had lived most of his life alone, but now began to seek the safety of a pack, and perhaps somewhere he could call home, and someone he could call ... family.
With a smirk, the he-wolf remembered fondly his first few weeks alone; over three years ago, now. He had never hunted much as a yearling, so had taken it upon himself to teach himself how to get things done. He had stumbled upon a herd of elk, and decided that he would give this a try. Without even bothering to prepare, he had rushed in and bit down on the ankle of the largest deer there. Shocked, but not afraid of the small pup, the elk had bolted, and Kalina had found himself running for his life. Not that he'd really minded, Kalina had thought upon looking back on the moment. The feeling of leaping into the wind and letting it carry him and whisper through his fur was unmatchable, in his opinion. Really racing, speeding, weaving through the undergrowth got his adrenaline pumping and his heart beating - it was this feeling that he loved more than any other, even more than the satisfaction felt as fangs pierced through the hide of prey, the feeling of fresh, warm blood seeping down his throat, and the welcome sensation of having your stomach full after days, weeks even, of starvation.
That had been a one-off. Now, Kalina was a powerful hunter, who had learned through experience. He had learned to enjoy the kill and the reward, as well as the thrill of the chase. While he enjoyed running for his life, the ever-present fear of capture held him back. He had become an apprehensive wolf, and being in such an open space as this empty territory was doing nothing to help it. However, it was a risk that had to be taken. Over the barren landscaping, the wind whistled, whispering the wolf's name as he crossed the snow. "Kalina ... Kalina ..."
Taking shelter under a large, leafless oak, Kalina threw back his head and let fly from his snowy maw his song. Beautiful and harmonious, the notes rose and fell, occasionally holding fast and echoing through the cool, afternoon air. The song told of sorrow and fear, of anger and rage, but woven within the music was a tale of hope - a spark of longing and need, still burning as an ember within the heart of a wolf.
