Post by Meg Holloway on Feb 18, 2007 20:24:43 GMT -5
Accepted! See PM.
-Frank Pratt
Name: Bri
Other characters on the board: None
Are you over 13?: Yessss. I'm 15
Name: Megan (Meg) Holloway
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Birthday/Sign: February 15th 1975/Aquarius
Blood Type/Purity: Muggleborn
Family:
Mother: Sandra Meyer, 54
Father: Johnny Holloway (deceased at 40)
Brother: Dylan Holloway, 32
Brother: Jordan Holloway, 28
Brother: Thomas (Tommy) Holloway, 25
Brother: Michael (Mike) Holloway, 24
Brother: Ryan Holloway, 23
Step-Father: Benjamin Meyer, 56
Step-Brother: David Meyer, 30
Step-Brother: Connor Meyer, 27
Step-Brother: Gregory (Greg) Meyer, 26
[li] Hair Color and Style: Brown
[/li][li] Eye Color: Brown
[/li][li] Height and Build: Tiny - 5"3' and flat-chested. You can tell that she's athletic.
[/li][li] Regular clothing style: T-shirt and jeans with sneakers.
[/li][li] Other characteristics:
Having grown up with nine men in the house for most of her life, Meg was always being recruited for family sports games and frequently played referee -- and often participated -- in food contests. Because of this, she has a boyish figure and dresses herself as so. Feminism isn't her strong point: her hair is short, her face boyish. Her clothes fit, but they aren't girlish at all. When she was younger, her mother forced her to get her ears peirced -- a direct rebellion of her tomboy ways. Meg is fairly flat-chested, and when she dresses up, she tries her hardest to cover up that fact. If her straight hair isn't hanging in her face, it's up in a pathetic ponytail. Hair is usually in her face, but she usually sweeps it behind her ears. As a nervous habit, she plays with the ends of her hair.
Dressing up isn't really her strongest point. When she's invited to a fancy event, she usually has someone else pick out her attire. If she attempts to do it herself, the results are disastrous. Most of her casual clothing has some sort of paint stain on it, in one place or another. Obviously, this is a result of her prospective painting career. She writes notes to herself on her hands, so there's usually a mark or two on her hands -- no matter how hard she scrubs, there are permanent ink marks on her palms. She's a tiny little girl at 5"3', and her brothers never let her forget that she's the runt of the family.
[/li][/ul]
Personality:
Overall, Meg Holloway is a sweet girl. She's always joking and loves to laugh more than anything else. Being angry or sad are things that she absolutely despises. When she gets that way - angry or sad - she gets more upset over the fact that she is upset, rather than being upset over whatever the thing that made her upset was. A very confusing process for a relatively simple girl. This cycle has caused her to seem unemotional and detached -- which, in a way, she is. Always having been the little athlete, Meg is a bundle of energy. She loves being awake and thrives during the day.
Friends and family matter a lot to Meg. Even though it was really a battle of the sexes at her house (her mother and her against the nine boys), she embraced it and loved it more than anything. Some of her best memories were from when she was spending some quality time with her brothers and parents. Making friends was never hard for Meg, either; she's an outgoing person with a fun personality and an exciting nature.
With eight older brothers, however, Meg never truly had a chance to have a boyfriend. Every time she brought a boy home that had a potential dating status, they roughed him up -- they were just having a little fun, they always claimed, as they punched his shoulders -- and inquired about what said boy's intentions were with their "lil' sis." Usually ending up mortified, Meg didn't invite the boy back, and that was the end of the relationship. In college, she tried a bit harder to have a steady relationship, usually
History:
Meg is the youngest of her large, testosterone-powered family. That never bothered her; she liked being surrounded by people who wanted to protect her. A lot of her time was spent with her father and brothers. Her mother tried to dress her up in frilly outfits too much, she thought, in her younger mind. As she grew, she realized that her mother had just been trying to girl-up the one daughter that she had. While Meg regretted the fact that she'd never obliged to her mother's wishes, she was thankful that her mother had never resented her for it.
Disaster struck the Holloway home when Meg's father, Johnny, died of a heart attack. At age three, Meg was affected, but not as much as her older brothers. Her brothers had been extremely close to him, and in response to his death, they were irrevocably crushed. It had taken both them and Meg's mother, Sandra, a few months until they had fully comprehended his death. Meg tried her hardest to cheer them up, drawing them little pictures and posting them on their bedroom doors. Even at her young age, she was doodling and drawing. Really, art was something that she did not only because she enjoyed it, but because it made other people happy.
When Meg was six years old, her mother began to date. Her brothers seemed angry at this fact, but Meg could see the change that dating had brought in her mother. She was happier, and the wrinkles on her forehead seemed to dissapear. There were a few men that she had dates with, casually, until Benjamin came along. Ben was a respectful man who worked as a judge. He had a lot of money and three sons. He was kind to Meg and to her brothers, and for this, Meg treated him like a father. Her mother was simply ecstatic about this, and two years later, they were married. Meg was the flower-girl, and it was really the only time that she had permitted a dress.
The transition from the family of seven to the family of eleven was odd at first, but everybody tried their hardest to make it work. Meg's brothers had gotten over the fact that they weren't getting their father back, and spent a lot of time discussing sports and other manly things with Ben. Meg had become accustomed to referring to Ben as 'Benny,' which felt like Daddy but wasn't quite as affectionate. It felt right, for her, and so she continued to call him Benny. Her brothers followed suit, and Ben was happy to be accepted.
If she wasn't playing with her brothers and step-family, she was drawing or painting. Painting was really what she enjoyed -- she liked the smell of paint, and the feel of it. She liked experimenting with different kinds of paint, and noticed what the different colors were. Her mother never enrolled her in an art class, believing that she had a natural talent that shouldn't be messed with. Meg agreed absoultely, and instead took art classes with the school, where the teachers didn't pressure change.
Upon turning eleven a mysterious letter arrived for Meg. It described a magical place in Boston, a town very very close to where she lived. She attended the coven for three years and then furthered her magical education in Salem, a town not too far from the small one where she lived. Her parents and brothers encouraged her to take part int his peculiar place, so she did. After arriving at this place, she realized that it was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Magic filled the hallways, and the classes were all based on completely fantastical things. Meg embraced the environment and spent a lot of her time learning as much as she could about Magical Sports to tell her brothers and step-father about.
She was sorted into Merlin, a house that she definitely belonged in. She didn't think any of the other houses applied to her personality. Throughout the years, she made some great friends -- her fun personality and her quirks helped in the friend-making department. She learned the value of the dollar, and after she graduated, she started saving up money to open her own sweets shop. Roughly two years after she graduated, there was an attack on her school. Keeping up with the news was difficult, but she did it, just to make sure that every one of her professors were doing alright. Thankfully, they were.
At nineteen, she opened her own art gallery, so that up-and-coming artists could showcase their work and she could even show off some of her own. Spending time with her artwork and being able to show other people how to immerse themselves in artwork seemed like the best possible career path for the blossoming artist, so she put forth her best effort to make her gallery a success. Because of her hard work, the store is successful -- at least, she thinks so. People seem to enjoy it.
Likes: Sports, eating, having fun, good friends, reminiscing, the color blue, sneakers, "muggle clothes", painting/art
Dislikes: Dresses, fancy parties, being lonely, lies
Special Abilities: She's a great painter, so she spends a lot of time decorating her own walls and the walls of others with her artwork. Also, she's got quite a knack for mixing things -- food, colors, and potions.
Wand: 12-inch Birch with Hippogriff Talon
Broom: Firebolt (Of course she's going to have the best!)
Pet: Golden Retriever named Gypsy
Position: Owner of The Gallery
Years in profession: 3
Experience: None
Store Name: The Gallery
Products sold: You can buy artwork, or view it.
Word Verification: *Shh*
Writing Sample:
Something had gone terribly wrong. There was some kind of banquet for shopkeepers today -- what was the point of that? -- and Meg had completely forgotten. She had to go, and she was also being forced to wear a dress of some sort. Whose idea had this been? She groaned, fluttering about her room like a confused butterfly. Meg couldn't even remember the last time she'd worn a dress. She flicked each hanger so she could see what was hanging from it. Plenty of T-shirts, and while she was tempted, she knew that not one person would ever let it go if Meg wore a T-shirt and pants to this event. What was this thing even for, anyway?
While she wondered, she continued flipping through her belongings. Not even a skirt. Sighing, Meg meandered over to her drawers. Perhaps there was one folded up. With luck, there would be. She dug through her drawers, scraping the bottom of each one. Finally, she got to the bottom one. She let out a high-pitched squeal when she found a plain green dress. Where had she gotten this? Her mother had probably thrown it in with her other things and Meg must've unpacked it without noticing.
Overjoyed with her discovery, Meg slipped it on. Not too bad. It fell to her knees, which was supposedly where a dress was supposed to sit. What shoes? She looked into her closet. Lots of sneakers, a few pairs of Vans, and a pair of black flip-flops. Those would have to do. Yanking her socks off, Meg wondered if the flip-flops were an acceptable pair of shoes. She glanced at her legs. Stubble. Hmm. She hobbled over to her dresser, shoe-less, and grabbed a bottle of lotion. She squeezed some of the white lotion onto her legs and rubbed it over. There -- not so terrible anymore.
Jumping back over to where her flip-flops were, she slid into the shoes and then went over to her dresser. She owned one tube of lip-gloss -- clear, and it tasted like chocolate. How the manufacturers had managed to that was really a wonder of the world. A miracle, in a sense. Meg was no closeted chocolate addict. Her addiction was out, loud and clear and screaming. She dipped the gloss wand into the tiny tube and then smudged it onto her lips. She looked spiffy, she decided.
Meg debated whether or not she should do something with her eyes. Or her cheeks. According to a magazine she'd once read eyes, cheeks, and lips were really the areas to aim for when it came to make-up application. Well, what did one apply to those areas? Mascara and shadow to the eyes, Meg remembered, and blush to the cheeks. She didn't have any of that, so the gloss would have to do.
The only remaining thing to worry about was her hair. It looked fine the way it was, straight and a bit stringy, but Meg knew that her mother would never accept it. She twisted it up and held it in place with a clip. Perfection. She grabbed a black cloak from her closet -- there, it would match the shoes! -- and then headed out of the door. Unlike most women, she didn't reach for a purse. A stupid mistake, since she didn't have her wand with her because she was wearing a dress. After walking halfway down the hallway, she remembered that she needed her wand in order to get back into her apartment. Groaning, she dragged herself back to her room. "This is not going to be fun," she muttered, opening her door. Since she didn't have her wand yet, she hadn't been able to lock it. Pure luck.
Did she even own a purse? Usually her belongings went into her pockets. Yes! She did. Her mother had given her one once. She couldn't remember for the life of her where she'd put it. Meg walked over to her closet, figuring that would be the best place to start. Her assumptions proved correct when she saw a silver bag hanging from a hook. While silver wasn't her favorite, it would have to do. Meg grabbed her wand and threw it in. She pouted when she saw that there was a lot of room left. Being logical, she took the lip gloss and tossed that in as well. Still plenty of room. What else could she put in there?
She thought for a moment, and then took a few things from her desk and put them in. A baseball. A pen. A pad of post-its. A glue-stick. A paintbrush. Everything went in. If anyone looked inside of the bag, she'd have a lot of explaining to do. At least she'd have a full pocketbook, though,
-Frank Pratt
Name: Bri
Other characters on the board: None
Are you over 13?: Yessss. I'm 15
Name: Megan (Meg) Holloway
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Birthday/Sign: February 15th 1975/Aquarius
Blood Type/Purity: Muggleborn
Family:
Mother: Sandra Meyer, 54
Father: Johnny Holloway (deceased at 40)
Brother: Dylan Holloway, 32
Brother: Jordan Holloway, 28
Brother: Thomas (Tommy) Holloway, 25
Brother: Michael (Mike) Holloway, 24
Brother: Ryan Holloway, 23
Step-Father: Benjamin Meyer, 56
Step-Brother: David Meyer, 30
Step-Brother: Connor Meyer, 27
Step-Brother: Gregory (Greg) Meyer, 26
[li] Hair Color and Style: Brown
[/li][li] Eye Color: Brown
[/li][li] Height and Build: Tiny - 5"3' and flat-chested. You can tell that she's athletic.
[/li][li] Regular clothing style: T-shirt and jeans with sneakers.
[/li][li] Other characteristics:
Having grown up with nine men in the house for most of her life, Meg was always being recruited for family sports games and frequently played referee -- and often participated -- in food contests. Because of this, she has a boyish figure and dresses herself as so. Feminism isn't her strong point: her hair is short, her face boyish. Her clothes fit, but they aren't girlish at all. When she was younger, her mother forced her to get her ears peirced -- a direct rebellion of her tomboy ways. Meg is fairly flat-chested, and when she dresses up, she tries her hardest to cover up that fact. If her straight hair isn't hanging in her face, it's up in a pathetic ponytail. Hair is usually in her face, but she usually sweeps it behind her ears. As a nervous habit, she plays with the ends of her hair.
Dressing up isn't really her strongest point. When she's invited to a fancy event, she usually has someone else pick out her attire. If she attempts to do it herself, the results are disastrous. Most of her casual clothing has some sort of paint stain on it, in one place or another. Obviously, this is a result of her prospective painting career. She writes notes to herself on her hands, so there's usually a mark or two on her hands -- no matter how hard she scrubs, there are permanent ink marks on her palms. She's a tiny little girl at 5"3', and her brothers never let her forget that she's the runt of the family.
[/li][/ul]
Personality:
Overall, Meg Holloway is a sweet girl. She's always joking and loves to laugh more than anything else. Being angry or sad are things that she absolutely despises. When she gets that way - angry or sad - she gets more upset over the fact that she is upset, rather than being upset over whatever the thing that made her upset was. A very confusing process for a relatively simple girl. This cycle has caused her to seem unemotional and detached -- which, in a way, she is. Always having been the little athlete, Meg is a bundle of energy. She loves being awake and thrives during the day.
Friends and family matter a lot to Meg. Even though it was really a battle of the sexes at her house (her mother and her against the nine boys), she embraced it and loved it more than anything. Some of her best memories were from when she was spending some quality time with her brothers and parents. Making friends was never hard for Meg, either; she's an outgoing person with a fun personality and an exciting nature.
With eight older brothers, however, Meg never truly had a chance to have a boyfriend. Every time she brought a boy home that had a potential dating status, they roughed him up -- they were just having a little fun, they always claimed, as they punched his shoulders -- and inquired about what said boy's intentions were with their "lil' sis." Usually ending up mortified, Meg didn't invite the boy back, and that was the end of the relationship. In college, she tried a bit harder to have a steady relationship, usually
History:
Meg is the youngest of her large, testosterone-powered family. That never bothered her; she liked being surrounded by people who wanted to protect her. A lot of her time was spent with her father and brothers. Her mother tried to dress her up in frilly outfits too much, she thought, in her younger mind. As she grew, she realized that her mother had just been trying to girl-up the one daughter that she had. While Meg regretted the fact that she'd never obliged to her mother's wishes, she was thankful that her mother had never resented her for it.
Disaster struck the Holloway home when Meg's father, Johnny, died of a heart attack. At age three, Meg was affected, but not as much as her older brothers. Her brothers had been extremely close to him, and in response to his death, they were irrevocably crushed. It had taken both them and Meg's mother, Sandra, a few months until they had fully comprehended his death. Meg tried her hardest to cheer them up, drawing them little pictures and posting them on their bedroom doors. Even at her young age, she was doodling and drawing. Really, art was something that she did not only because she enjoyed it, but because it made other people happy.
When Meg was six years old, her mother began to date. Her brothers seemed angry at this fact, but Meg could see the change that dating had brought in her mother. She was happier, and the wrinkles on her forehead seemed to dissapear. There were a few men that she had dates with, casually, until Benjamin came along. Ben was a respectful man who worked as a judge. He had a lot of money and three sons. He was kind to Meg and to her brothers, and for this, Meg treated him like a father. Her mother was simply ecstatic about this, and two years later, they were married. Meg was the flower-girl, and it was really the only time that she had permitted a dress.
The transition from the family of seven to the family of eleven was odd at first, but everybody tried their hardest to make it work. Meg's brothers had gotten over the fact that they weren't getting their father back, and spent a lot of time discussing sports and other manly things with Ben. Meg had become accustomed to referring to Ben as 'Benny,' which felt like Daddy but wasn't quite as affectionate. It felt right, for her, and so she continued to call him Benny. Her brothers followed suit, and Ben was happy to be accepted.
If she wasn't playing with her brothers and step-family, she was drawing or painting. Painting was really what she enjoyed -- she liked the smell of paint, and the feel of it. She liked experimenting with different kinds of paint, and noticed what the different colors were. Her mother never enrolled her in an art class, believing that she had a natural talent that shouldn't be messed with. Meg agreed absoultely, and instead took art classes with the school, where the teachers didn't pressure change.
Upon turning eleven a mysterious letter arrived for Meg. It described a magical place in Boston, a town very very close to where she lived. She attended the coven for three years and then furthered her magical education in Salem, a town not too far from the small one where she lived. Her parents and brothers encouraged her to take part int his peculiar place, so she did. After arriving at this place, she realized that it was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Magic filled the hallways, and the classes were all based on completely fantastical things. Meg embraced the environment and spent a lot of her time learning as much as she could about Magical Sports to tell her brothers and step-father about.
She was sorted into Merlin, a house that she definitely belonged in. She didn't think any of the other houses applied to her personality. Throughout the years, she made some great friends -- her fun personality and her quirks helped in the friend-making department. She learned the value of the dollar, and after she graduated, she started saving up money to open her own sweets shop. Roughly two years after she graduated, there was an attack on her school. Keeping up with the news was difficult, but she did it, just to make sure that every one of her professors were doing alright. Thankfully, they were.
At nineteen, she opened her own art gallery, so that up-and-coming artists could showcase their work and she could even show off some of her own. Spending time with her artwork and being able to show other people how to immerse themselves in artwork seemed like the best possible career path for the blossoming artist, so she put forth her best effort to make her gallery a success. Because of her hard work, the store is successful -- at least, she thinks so. People seem to enjoy it.
Likes: Sports, eating, having fun, good friends, reminiscing, the color blue, sneakers, "muggle clothes", painting/art
Dislikes: Dresses, fancy parties, being lonely, lies
Special Abilities: She's a great painter, so she spends a lot of time decorating her own walls and the walls of others with her artwork. Also, she's got quite a knack for mixing things -- food, colors, and potions.
Wand: 12-inch Birch with Hippogriff Talon
Broom: Firebolt (Of course she's going to have the best!)
Pet: Golden Retriever named Gypsy
Position: Owner of The Gallery
Years in profession: 3
Experience: None
Store Name: The Gallery
Products sold: You can buy artwork, or view it.
Word Verification: *Shh*
Writing Sample:
Something had gone terribly wrong. There was some kind of banquet for shopkeepers today -- what was the point of that? -- and Meg had completely forgotten. She had to go, and she was also being forced to wear a dress of some sort. Whose idea had this been? She groaned, fluttering about her room like a confused butterfly. Meg couldn't even remember the last time she'd worn a dress. She flicked each hanger so she could see what was hanging from it. Plenty of T-shirts, and while she was tempted, she knew that not one person would ever let it go if Meg wore a T-shirt and pants to this event. What was this thing even for, anyway?
While she wondered, she continued flipping through her belongings. Not even a skirt. Sighing, Meg meandered over to her drawers. Perhaps there was one folded up. With luck, there would be. She dug through her drawers, scraping the bottom of each one. Finally, she got to the bottom one. She let out a high-pitched squeal when she found a plain green dress. Where had she gotten this? Her mother had probably thrown it in with her other things and Meg must've unpacked it without noticing.
Overjoyed with her discovery, Meg slipped it on. Not too bad. It fell to her knees, which was supposedly where a dress was supposed to sit. What shoes? She looked into her closet. Lots of sneakers, a few pairs of Vans, and a pair of black flip-flops. Those would have to do. Yanking her socks off, Meg wondered if the flip-flops were an acceptable pair of shoes. She glanced at her legs. Stubble. Hmm. She hobbled over to her dresser, shoe-less, and grabbed a bottle of lotion. She squeezed some of the white lotion onto her legs and rubbed it over. There -- not so terrible anymore.
Jumping back over to where her flip-flops were, she slid into the shoes and then went over to her dresser. She owned one tube of lip-gloss -- clear, and it tasted like chocolate. How the manufacturers had managed to that was really a wonder of the world. A miracle, in a sense. Meg was no closeted chocolate addict. Her addiction was out, loud and clear and screaming. She dipped the gloss wand into the tiny tube and then smudged it onto her lips. She looked spiffy, she decided.
Meg debated whether or not she should do something with her eyes. Or her cheeks. According to a magazine she'd once read eyes, cheeks, and lips were really the areas to aim for when it came to make-up application. Well, what did one apply to those areas? Mascara and shadow to the eyes, Meg remembered, and blush to the cheeks. She didn't have any of that, so the gloss would have to do.
The only remaining thing to worry about was her hair. It looked fine the way it was, straight and a bit stringy, but Meg knew that her mother would never accept it. She twisted it up and held it in place with a clip. Perfection. She grabbed a black cloak from her closet -- there, it would match the shoes! -- and then headed out of the door. Unlike most women, she didn't reach for a purse. A stupid mistake, since she didn't have her wand with her because she was wearing a dress. After walking halfway down the hallway, she remembered that she needed her wand in order to get back into her apartment. Groaning, she dragged herself back to her room. "This is not going to be fun," she muttered, opening her door. Since she didn't have her wand yet, she hadn't been able to lock it. Pure luck.
Did she even own a purse? Usually her belongings went into her pockets. Yes! She did. Her mother had given her one once. She couldn't remember for the life of her where she'd put it. Meg walked over to her closet, figuring that would be the best place to start. Her assumptions proved correct when she saw a silver bag hanging from a hook. While silver wasn't her favorite, it would have to do. Meg grabbed her wand and threw it in. She pouted when she saw that there was a lot of room left. Being logical, she took the lip gloss and tossed that in as well. Still plenty of room. What else could she put in there?
She thought for a moment, and then took a few things from her desk and put them in. A baseball. A pen. A pad of post-its. A glue-stick. A paintbrush. Everything went in. If anyone looked inside of the bag, she'd have a lot of explaining to do. At least she'd have a full pocketbook, though,