Post by reese on Mar 5, 2010 11:41:14 GMT -5
REESE AMARI MILES
Name: Reese Amari Miles
Nicknames: Reese, thanks. Ree, if you're her little brother.
Age: 24
Date of Birth: October 17th
Orientation: Currently heterosexual.
Nationality: Hawaiian/French
Home Town: Salt Lake City, Utah
Degree: Visual Art
- Minor: Conceptual and Post Modern Art[/ul]
Play by: Shannyn Sossamon[/blockquote][/blockquote]
--- INDEPENDENT
From a young age, Reese made it clear that she was going to be an independent woman. She never wanted anyone’s help and if she couldn’t really do it on her own she would try time and time again until she could or often go without. There were times in her childhood when her parents had to force help on her. It was only natural that she moved out early as well. Just barely eighteen and she was supporting herself and her attempts at travel. Unfortunately, this independence isn’t completely a good thing. Reese has long since decided that she doesn’t need anyone else besides herself and often times shuts people out, often without meaning to.
--- DEDICATED
A true passion is hard to come by, but Reese was lucky. When she picked up a paintbrush she wasn’t the best at it, but her hard work and dedication to her craft paid off. Talent was earned, not handed over on a silver platter and Reese understood that. Even after taking a brief break from school between the end of high school and the beginning of college, Reese knew if she put down her paintbrush she’d be living a life unfulfilled. She’s the kind of girl who doesn’t stop until she’s done it right and her dedication is truly a positive thing in her life.
--- UNPREDICTABLE
Prone to taking off whenever she damn well pleases and doing things on the spot, Reese Miles is what one might consider ‘unpredictable.’ She doesn’t like fitting someone’s idea of a ‘mould.’ Being her own person, the only version of her, Reese likes to keep people guessing. It probably isn’t wise to expect anything of her, especially if she’s had a few drinks. Often times it is a game of dares that she will play, staring blankly at whoever she’s with before finally asking the always present question: “Do you dare me?” Just don’t be shocked.
LIKES: Paint, jelly beans, her brother, coffee, drawing devil horns on ultrasounds, blue pens, window sills, people who take pictures of people instead of random objects, Philadelphia, crayons.
DISLIKES: The color red, corn flakes, being called a lesbian because she has short hair because really what the hell, margarita and licorice flavored jelly beans, going to the mall, straws that aren't bendy, girls that are too nice, Nike shoes, mushrooms, being asked if she's Mexican.
John Miles met Leilani Aki when he was sixteen years old. They were classmates for years, friends for longer and finally sweethearts when the two were halfway through their freshman years at the local community college. Salt Lake City promised them this much, get married young, have kids young, and if you’re lucky get a decent education. All of these things came true for John and Leilani. It was no surprise when Reese was born in October of 1985. It was, however, a surprise that she came to be the person she is today. The couple had expected a normal daughter, one who wanted what they had when they were young. But instead they got Reese.
Reese was wild when she was little, getting into everything possible. She was loud and often times rude. Many did not know how to handle the child, but really it was simple. She was bored, unchallenged and unsatisfied. Unfortunately for Reese, her mother was again pregnant and did not have the time and patience Reese frequently required. It seemed though that once her little brother was born she was a much more calm child. Fascinated by the infant, Reese would bring him things, line his crib with crayons and toys and would spend hours chattering to the child, but mostly she liked to draw him pictures. Their bond was strong from the beginning.
It was until Reese was in the fifth grade that her habit of doodling (as her mother called it) became something more. An art teacher suggested that she try something else, something more hands on, something she could get messy with. Reese did her first painting right there in the corner of the art room and it wasn’t very good. But she didn’t care. She worked hard, kept at it until she was good. From there it never stopped, there wasn’t a day that went by where the girl didn’t think about her art, or art in general. She was in love.
After high school, Reese’s parents entertained the idea of her going to an arts school, something Reese laughed about. Although her art was important to her, she felt there had to be something more than out there than what Salt Lake City, Utah could offer her. So, after graduation she took off, staying here and there, painting this and that and seeing as much of everything as she could. Unfortunately it wasn’t something that kept her entertained for long, though four years was longer than she imaged she‘d keep herself from college, as Reese had never been easily satisfied. Eventually she found her way back to Salt Lake City, a folder of applications in hand and belated as ever, began looking for a school to attend at the ripe age of twenty one. Emerson College of Arts in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania has been home ever since.
Why Emerson?
Reese has a habit of being easily unsatified or bored. Staying close to her home town sounded boring, and she'd waited long enough to apply for college. Emerson had the cheapest out of state tuition and had accepted her in record time. It was all a matter of chance and adventure.
Gran always said that Neville would find his place. Though she practiced keeping her sentiments from him until he proved that he was more than just a bumbling idiot, or more likely until she realized that something might actually happen and the only bit of her son that remained in this world in a state of mind that could be considered sane might actually need her, she was quite fond of the boy. He stuck by her side and for the most part did what he was supposed to even if sometimes he stumbled awkwardly through his life forgetting bits and pieces as he went. And his place, indeed, he did find. Even if today that place was a bit different than usual.
Neville’s toes dug into the rubber tip of his shoe where the canvas insole was ripped and spent. They would need replacing. He would need new robes too, as he’d abandoned most of his things when the battle had taken place at Hogwarts. Really, he didn’t feel any emotional attachment to the trunk filled with text books and robes and bits of parchment he’d scribbled on, notes, he guessed, and things for class. It was a lot harder to care about school last year when there was so much more going on the whole time. He felt, honestly, that the DA was much more important and spent a lot of time organizing their meetings and trying not to get caught. His grades had quickly slipped but he wasn’t worried in the slightest. Bigger things were coming in to play. He’d gotten the things he cared for anyway. The other things could be replaced. Besides, there were many, many other things that had been lost that could never be given back. Certainly a handful of robes would make no difference.
Since then he’d practically been at his Gran’s side every moment of every day. He wasn’t exactly sure why, as he could have easily parted from her at that moment. Certainly the Weasley’s needed a hand or two. They were dealing with such loss and he felt more at home in the presence of his friends but at the same time he didn’t exactly want to ask any of them to tag along when he went to St. Mungo’s, something he’d done as soon as he got the chance and then very often since then. It was part of the reason he and Gran weren’t staying in one place. It was easier for her to do her business (whatever that might have been, as she didn’t seem to mention what she was doing to him) and for him to visit his parents when they stayed at The Leaky Cauldron. Of course, Tom didn’t mind the business. Things were picking up slowly, everyone was still very cautious although the Dark Lord had been defeated.
Today, however, there were a few people seated along the bar, nursing firewhisky and several other amber colored drinks. Neville was one of the people downstairs but he chose to sit away from the bar and to drink only butterbeer. There was an old issue of The Quibbler (ever since his Gran insisted that The Daily Prophet had become nothing but garbage, Neville took to reading issues of The Quibbler, not that they were any better - at least they were entertaining) on the table beneath his arms and he was sure by now with the way his chin was pressing down on the table that he would have ink stains on it when he sat up. It wasn’t particularly early in the morning or late in the afternoon but instead that awkward time in between. He was set for another visit later in the day upon Gran’s return from wherever she had flitted off to. For someone who wore a scary bird on her head and was as old as Neville’s Gran was, she sure did have the tendency to appear and disappear in no time. Of course, there were certain magical elements that could have easily explained that.
In his hands was the ever familiar Remembrall that had seemed to radiate a scarlet glow - although it was really just the smoky insides that turned color it had been that way for so long that the whole thing seemed to take on a red tinge - ever since he’d received it. It was different this time though and such was possibly the reason why Neville seemed so intrigued by it’s innards. A spacey sort of look flooded his features, eyebrows turned down and forehead wrinkled, eyes locked on the sphere in his hands. It wasn’t red. There was nothing he’d forgotten. Everything was where it was supposed to be and Neville could account for it all. It was a strange phenomenon and Neville was scouring his mind, trying to think of something he’d possibly forgotten (as surely the Remembrall was broken and he wasn’t really not-forgetting something).
“Bloody hell, surely there’s something!” He hissed at the sphere under his breath, mouth turning down at the corners. Why was it that he felt more comfortable knowing there was something he’d forgotten than knowing that everything was okay, even in just this small sense?
[/size][/center][/justify]Hi, I'm JESSE and I'm NINETEEN old. I'm SUPER FLY. This is my FIRST application. I found Failure's Not Flattering from SHUTUP.
