Current date/time is Fri Jul 20, 2018 8:29 am

Viewing profile: Blaine Austen

All about Blaine Austen

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Personality :
For the most part, Blaine is the quiet girl who doesn’t like to get involved. Involvement leads to attachment, attachment leads to betrayal, betrayal leads to pain and anger, pain and anger lead to feathers, and feathers lead to homelessness. Blaine doesn’t exactly want to admit it, but she’s happy Masquerade offered her a place at their school. To her, it truly is a way to start over, and having a consistent place to return to every night is comforting. Despite that, she doesn’t want to get involved in much for fear that she will come to rely on people too much, someone will hurt her again, she’ll go over the edge, and shift on that person. The first thing she learned about her abilities was that shapeshifting was not a common practice, and it was to be hidden from regular humans. If she accidentally shifted before the wrong people, she would be forced to leave the school and go on the run again. Blaine knows she can survive on the streets, but now that she has an actual place to live, she doesn’t want to give it up. If one does manage to become close to her, though, they will find a loyal friend in the girl. She is fiercely protective of her friends, and she would do anything if one of them was in trouble. The reason behind this is that nobody was there for her when she needed it most. Blaine always wished someone would have stood up for her and helped protect her when she couldn’t do it herself, but nobody ever showed up. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy, even her mother or Mason, so she makes sure she’s always there for the few people she truly cares about. She hopes those people would do the same for her, but her expectations are low. Past experience has taught her to expect little of others regardless of how much effort she puts forth. The same is true about her schoolwork. Blaine isn’t a slacker, but she doesn’t try overly hard, either. Before her life backflipped, she did her best on everything. She was the straight A, Honor Roll, 4.0 GPA student, and nobody seemed to care. Because of that, she doesn’t see much point in trying now. If nobody is going to care how she does, why bother? She gives everything an average effort, and receives average grades to show for it. She does earn an occasional A if the subject matter is something that interests her, but for the most part, she earns B’s, C’s, and D’s. As long as she doesn’t get frustrated with her work, everything is okay. If she does, though, things can turn out disastrous. While anger is her main trigger to shift, frustration can also be a cause. She has only been at Masquerade for about a month and a half now, but she has already run out of numerous math classes and other classes in order to avoid shifting in front of her classmates.
History :
14-year-old Emily Goodrich had everything: the kind of fiery red hair every girl is jealous of, a flawless complexion, beautiful deep brown eyes, throngs of popular friends, all the hottest jocks wishing she was theirs, amazing grades, her name on the A Honor Roll, teachers raving about her outstanding performance, a deadbeat dad, and an abusive mother who didn’t give a damn. The last time she remembered seeing her father was the Christmas she was five. It’s not like she had seen much of her father before that, so that particular day imprinted itself in her mind for more than one reason. “Dad” had stumbled through the door at 8 in the morning, drunk as hell, ready to pass out on the kitchen floor. Emily had run to him, happy that he was there, but she had only been knocked aside. Hurt and confused, she had run and hid in the hallway closet while her mother confronted her father. She couldn’t understand most of what was going on. She just knew that her yelling and screaming parents were upset about something, and the last thing Emily remembered was her father slapping her mother, and her mom shoving her dad out the door. Everything went dark after that like the curtain being closed at the end of the act. Jump ahead nine years, and not much had changed. Emily’s mother wouldn’t have won the “World’s Greatest” award before that fateful Christmas day, but she definitely wasn’t going to win it now. Dad’s actions seemed to have pushed her over the edge, and everything went downhill from there. She started drinking herself into oblivion, doing whatever she could to appear sober when she dropped Emily off at the bus stop in the morning and picked her up in the afternoon. Emily never learned what her mother did, but it seemed to work. Nobody ever questioned her mother’s ability to raise her. Eventually, all the booze became the norm for Emily, so she never thought to tell anybody that her home life wasn’t what it should have been. How was she supposed to know that her parent wasn’t supposed to act like that all the time? Because she was used to her mother only half being there, she wasn’t surprised and she really didn’t question it when strange powders started to accompany her mom’s drinks. The mix had an awful effect on her mother, but she still didn’t mention it to anybody else. Even when her mom started slapping her around after her tenth birthday, she still kept her mouth shut. Emily knew other kids in her school who were victims of the foster care system, and they never had great stories to tell. As hard as her home life may have been at times, she was afraid of going into the foster care system herself, so she never spoke a word. She just did her best to handle it on her own. Unfortunately, “handling” the situation took a terrible turn the spring Emily was 14. She had been hiding out in her bedroom, attempting to avoid her mother and the drunken, drugged up state she was in. Hunger eventually took over, and she crept to the kitchen for food. Her mother spotted her behind the fridge door, and had demanded that Emily get her another beer. Emily ignored her mother, not wanting to fuel the rage that usually accompanied the drinks. Her mother was less than happy with that sort of treatment, and she threw her empty bottle, the glass shattering against the fridge, fragments embedding themselves in Emily’s scalp. That was the first time Emily realized she couldn’t take it anymore. All the emotions had built up under the surface, and she exploded, quite literally, then and there. Before she really knew what had happened, she was flying at her mother, a set of claws tearing at skin and clothing, a razor sharp beak nipping at whatever it could reach. Leaving her mother abused and bloody on the floor, curled up in the fetal position, Emily took off on her new wings, refusing to stop until she could go no further. When she stopped, Emily tried to get back into her human body again only to discover that she couldn’t. She tried everything from sheer willpower to literally tapping the backs of her claws, thinking “I wish I was human, I was I was human, I wish I was human,” but nothing seemed to work. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get back into a human body. Beyond frustrated, Emily finally gave up submitting to her new form of a hawk. She spent the next several weeks flying wherever she pleased, doing her best to adjust to the life of a bird. She had almost conquered life as a hawk until that day she saw him in the park. Emily knew she had never seen the boy before, but something about the grey eyes and the dirty blonde hair brought back all the memories of life as a human. The boy had remained on the park bench for hours, and Emily had rested in the tree above him, her yellow hawk eyes never leaving the top of his head. Finally, he had stood up, only to surprise Emily. Rather than walking away, he turned to look up into the tree, he found Emily sitting there, and he whispered one simple phrase. Follow me. Not entirely sure that the boy had really been talking to her, Emily followed him anyway. He ducked into an alley, and Emily followed him in, keeping to the shadows. He began to speak, making it clear that he had been talking to Emily. He said he knew what she was. He said he knew she was a shape shifter, he could tell she was stuck in a body that wasn’t her own, and he wanted to help her. Emily was skeptical until the boy changed into a hawk himself. Finally convinced, Emily came out of the shadows, perching on a dumpster before the boy. He began to talk to her, his tone soothing, his words carefully chosen. Finally, after several long hours, Emily found herself sitting on the dumpster in her proper form. Thankfully, actual shape shifting did not occur the way Twilight portrayed it to, so Emily was saved the embarrassment of appearing butt naked before this boy. She was not, however, in the clothes she had been wearing when she originally shifted several weeks before. She was wearing an ankle-length halter dress printed with the pattern of her hawk feathers. The boy explained that that would happen anytime she shifted from her hawk form back to her human form. She could shift to her hawk form wearing anything, but when she shifted, her clothing would be left behind in a pile. Whenever she shifted back, though, she would be wearing that dress. Curious, she asked the boy what he showed up in, and he indicated the black muscle shirt and dark maroon shorts he was currently in. Upon close inspection, Emily could barely make out the feather outlines on each. Confused as to what to do next and horribly lost, Emily had moved to leave the alley only to be stopped by the boy. His one simple question had left her completely speechless. Where do you plan on going now? With no answer, Emily had simply looked at the boy and shook her head. Surprisingly, he smiled, then invited Emily to stay with him. He finally introduced himself as 19-year-old Mason Grey, explained that he had been living on the streets for the last four years, and that he could help teach Emily how to shift when she wanted to, and how to keep from shifting in the wrong situations. The idea of living on the street with Mason didn’t seem like the best idea at first, but with nowhere else to go, Emily agreed. The smile Mason gave her was huge, and he seemed genuinely pleased to have a sort of companion with him. He welcomed Emily to Ohio, and about made her keel over in shock. Her home had been in Colorado, so she was amazed that she had gotten all the way to Ohio as a hawk. Mason laughed, putting Emily a little more at ease, and he then began to explain the situation to her. Over time, Emily and Mason grew close. Sure, they were living on the streets, but that didn’t mean they had nothing. Mason had somehow gotten an evening job as a waiter in downtown Cincinnati, so he was bringing home a paycheck at least every two weeks. That allowed the pair to get food, clothing, and anything else they needed. They might have been able to save up for a cheap apartment, but Mason was so used to the street life by that point, he could hardly imagine anything better. He was perfectly happy where he was, and Emily eventually learned to enjoy the life as well. Their humble little abode was a mass of cardboard and duct tape set up in the back of an alley, but it worked well. The surrounding buildings sheltered them from rain, that particular alley was absent of dumpsters, and other street dwellers rarely came their way. Mason kept a collection of knives stashed behind some loose bricks in one of the buildings, and he had a habit of pulling at least one on any stray that wandered down their alley. Emily wasn’t a fan of the confrontation, but something about Mason’s stance and the way he held the knife kept the same people from wandering their way again. While Mason worked in the evenings, Emily stayed back and held down the fort. During the day, though, the two were constantly working together. Mason had gone off on a kid trying to sell drugs at his high school when he was 15, and that was the first time he had shifted. He had been living on his own since then, avoiding the cops, doing whatever was needed to get by. It had taken him some time to learn how to control his shifting, but he had finally figured out how to do it. Now, he had perfect control, and he began trying to teach that to Emily. He explained that everybody had a defense mechanism, and that was what triggered the shift in the first place. It was always that mechanism that would have to be controlled as well in order to control shifting. For Mason, that mechanism had been the need to protect his peers. For Emily, it was anger. For months, Mason tried to teach Emily how to control her anger, but it was a futile attempt. She would get frustrated then angry when things weren’t going as well as she wanted them to, and she would randomly burst into feather during their lessons. Mason seemed to spend more time coaxing her back into human form than actually teaching her proper control. Eventually, fall crept up on the two, Emily’s birthday was approaching, and Mason decided to give it a rest for a while. He wanted Emily to have a relaxing birthday without having to worry about turning into an animal. The night of her birthday, though, things went terribly wrong. Mason hurt Emily in the worst possible way, and left utterly defenseless, she could do nothing but endure the pain. She tried to shift to save herself only to discover that she couldn’t. No matter how hard she tried, tears streaming down her face, Emily could not escape. That was the night she discovered fatal flaws were not only things of myths. They were very real, and she discovered that hers was fear. Emily was so scared that night, no matter how much she willed her training and minimal control to work, she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sleep at all that night, either, and early the next morning, she made her move. Creeping out of the cardboard house while Mason snored, she snatched a knife and 200 dollars from their hiding spots and ran for her life. As much ill-will as she wished on Mason, Emily couldn’t kill him. She just grabbed a knife and ran. Several days and hundreds of miles later, Emily arrived in Memphis, Tennessee. She knew her past would haunt her forever no matter where she went, but she wasn’t ready to give up trying to run from it. She thought that if Emily died, maybe most of her past would, too. A fierce determination overcoming her, she marched into the nearest mall and began to change. Several hours later, the black-clad, black-haired Blaine Austen walked out, leaving Emily Goodrich far behind. Over the next couple weeks, Blaine began trying to train herself in the control of her shifting. She had learned that anger was her main defense mechanism, and that’s what she began to focus on. With time, she discovered that if she focused on something that truly angered her, she would likely shift. She also began coaxing herself, and finally, out of sheer willpower, she was able to transform back on her own. Weeks went by, and Blaine eventually gained control of her shifting—for the most part. She could change her form by will, but she also learned that she was liable to turn bird without warning if something really did anger her. Still, she had come a long way, and she was proud of herself. Then, about a year after shifting for the first time, Blaine awoke outside of the soup kitchen she was camping in front of to find an envelope next to her head. Scanning the letter, she realized it was an invitation to an arts school. The idea of going back to school—especially an arts school—was not overly appealing, but hey, at least it would be somewhere to stay, she’d have free room and board, and it would be an easy way for her to start over. Deciding that it might not be too bad, Blaine accepted the offer, packed up her few belongings, and waited for the school rep to come pick her up. She wasn’t entirely sure how they had found her in order to deliver the letter, but she figured they’d be able to find her to bring her to the school, too. She would have rather flown there herself, but as the letter had not detailed the location of this school, she was forced to stay where she was until someone could chauffeur her there. Finally, a week after accepting her offer of admission, a non-descript, average-looking man pulled up in a taxi, of all things, to take her to the school. Blaine climbed in the back with her one bag, and the driver took off. The girl wasn’t exactly sure where the man was taking her, but after what felt like several hundred miles, they finally arrived at the gates.
Appearance :
Blaine would easily fit into the label of ‘emo’, but if anybody ever called her that, she would deny it vehemently. She has long, layered black hair reaching the middle of her back, and pale white skin. At times, it’s rather obvious that her black hair is fake, but she doesn’t care. She would much rather continually dye it that color than let it go back to its natural red, and be reminded all over again of the pain of her past. She can always be found wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and black Converse high tops. The only thing that ever really changes is her shirt. Occasionally she’ll wear a rocker tee, sometimes a solid black top, and every once in a while she’ll wear a white shirt with a black striped tie printed on it. She doesn’t wear a lot of make-up, but her eyes are always ringed with a thin line of black eyeliner. In her hawk form, Blaine’s feathers are a burnt reddish-orange colour. That is the only reminder of who she once was. No matter what color she dyes her hair, her feathers always stay the same colour they originally were. Her eyes are a piercing yellow, and her long, sharp beak is an ash-grey colour. Her talons are obviously sharp and are not something to mess with, but she wouldn’t intentionally hurt somebody unless she was provoked.
Blaine Austen