IANOS, ISABELLE ALIANNA

[ISABELLE ALIANNA IANOS]

Isabelle Alianna Ianos

CHARACTER NAME || Isabelle Alianna Ianos
NICKNAME || Isa
GENDER || Female
AGE || nineteen
PREFERENCE || hetero
MEMBER GROUP || arts
PLAY BY || hannabeth merjos

LIKES || singing, dancing, soft music, rain, sun, beaches, photography, hot summers, cool winters, swimming, water, bonfires, night skies, stars, wishes, the sound of the wind, romance, flowers, spring bloom, snakes, writing, candle light, relaxing, being alone every once in awhile, cooking, art - drawing, painting, sketching, etc.
DISLIKES || thunderstorms, being locked up in someplace tight, any type of rabid animal, the company of men, patterns that are hard on the eyes, anyone lazy, criminals, loosing anyone close, being called a liar or anything insulting, horrible accidents, being alone all the time, being ignored, unnecessary loud noises, guns, fireworks, being hit or have a hand raised against, being threatened, being thought of as weak, and making a fool of herself.
STRENGTHS || charming, quick-thinker, strong willed, can't be pressured into doing anything she doesn't want to, independent
WEAKNESSES || never thinks things through, stubborn, independent and won't take anyone's help, won't take anyone's suggestions once she's decided on something.
FEARS || thunderstorms, rabid animals, and enclosed spaces.
SECRETS || scared of authority figures and mom had an affair with the banker~
GOALS || to get out of college with nice grades, to get married happily
PERSONALITY || Isabelle's hair is something she loves to experiment with - in seventh grade, it was blonde with pink highlights. Eighth it was all blue, and freshman year, it was black. It's unlikely you'll catch her more then three times with the same hair colour. This is the very first thing you'll notice about her - she is the inventor of change. She isn't the type of person to get caught in a rut, doing the same thing, day after day after day. Easily bored, quick to do anything exciting, and always looking for change, she's very difficult to keep up with. Don't believe me? She's been bungee jumping, sky diving, scuba diving, and swimming with sharks (an accident in sixth grade). How about now? Adventurous and danger-seeking are only two of many words that would sufficiently describe this side of her. If asked, however, she'd insist there's no reason she's this way. That she enjoys the thrill and the adrenaline without the addiction, but this isn't entirely true. As the daughter of an upscale, controlling business man, Isabelle takes every chance she can to do something her dad wouldn't normally approve of. So the adrenaline-junkie, danger-seeking, and adventurous side of her is really all summed up in one word: rebellious. If there's one thing Isabelle truly hates, it's being controlled and told what to do, as if she has no choice - and when she's around her dad, this occurs often. Although she's nineteen, growing up around a man such as her father has made her submissive to authority - when they're around. It's really a subconscious personality trait, but one they turn their back, she'll do anything she can that she's sure they'll dislike. After several years of living as if she was dying, it became clear her dad was too busy to notice. So she did more drastic things (at least, drastic in his eyes), such as getting tattoos, piercings, and changing her style every other day. Emo, goth, punk, and prep are only some of the many group types she tried. Several of this didn't fly very well with her dad, and after living under his roof for eighteen years, it became clear, at least to the newspapers, that Isa was the rebel to her dad's controlling personality.

But she's not all tattered jeans or pink dresses, glamour or goth. No matter how many different styles she changes to, how many different kinds of jeans she wears, or how much or how little make-up she puts on, Isabelle's overall personality has never changed much. While her rebellious attitude may be the very first thing you notice, this will be the next - she is a complete sweetheart. Understanding and slow to anger, she's got the temper and the patience of a saint. Don't be mistaken, she won't take being slapped around. If you feel the need to take out your anger, it'd be better to go the a punching bag then her. She won't take insults or being harshly mistreated, or take blame for something that's not her fault, but she will be a shoulder to cry on if you need it. She has a way of calming people down, no matter how hot their temper is, and without entirely meaning to, she's very charming. Friend or enemy, she usually is wearing a smile - whether mischievous or just to make someone feel better. Which brings us to the third personality trait usually figured out next - mischief. She loves it, thrives on it, and best of all, majors in creating it. Like her adventurous trait, mischief is another way of "rebelling" against her father. When she was younger, she used to loosen chair legs so when her dad had someone important over, someone was in for a surprise, and as she got older, and her skill progressed, she found trickier things to do. Never doubt what that sweet smile, no matter how true it is, is hiding.

PARENTS || Eliza Ianos / 47 / Nurse / Deceased
Markus Ianos / 51 / Owner of several large hospitals / Not-so-good
SIBLINGS || n/a
BIRTHPLACE || New York, New York
HOMETOWN || New York, New York
NATIONALITY & LANGUAGES || Unknown / Knows Italian & partial Spanish

SAMPLE RP HERE

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The cemetery was a place of darkness and sorrow. It always seemed like light had trouble getting there, the trees bending over the curvy pathway and reaching their desolate hands towards any visitors. Even the dark brown wooden oak bench didn't take away from the feeling of death. The sun never seemed to manage to break through the canopy of trees, even in the winter time, when the limbs and branches were stripped bare, freezing in the snow and biting wind. The stories set in cemeteries seemed to tell the truth; the breeze moaned, like a ghost, in the dead of the morning and in the afternoon, and even then late at night, after the sky had turned from a brilliant array of pink, orange, and blue to black. But white was the true color of death, and Erik held onto this saying as he traversed the bumpy cobblestone path deeper and deeper into the newer part of the cemetery, were they had expanded to years before. His shoes made a lights scuffing sound as he moved, the wind tugging at his shirt and dark brown leather coat.

He really had no idea why he was here. He felt no connection to his dad, who was now six feet under and cold as ice. The man hadn't even said good-bye to his son before disappearing out the door after his model girlfriend, leaving behind tragedy and years of built up anger towards himself. The moment his foot had touched the cement outside, crossing the threshold, it was almost as if he'd crossed a threshold into the five-year old's blind sight. There was no blaming, no calls, no "daddy please come back!". The man had attempted to send birthday cards the first three years, even tried to show up at the house once when Erik was twelve, but he'd been promptly turned away and in time had given up on his son. Which a parent should never do to their children. Erik had no idea if he'd have a connection with his dad if the man had tried more then three or four times to speak, to apologize. He didn't know if he would've cried at the funeral, or if his dad would still be alive for that matter. All of it was a maybe. There were too many maybe's in life.

Erik had not been to Kendrick since he was very young. After his father had left, he'd moved away with his mom to upper-state California where they lived with relatives for sometime before twenty-seven year-old Shena Seitz got back on her feet, got a job, and in time was able to get an apartment for young Erik and herself. She had never remarried again, evens even years after being walked out on, when the pain had dulled to a throb that was manageable and most of the time able to be ignored. As for Erik? His father had made no impact on his life. The boy didn't hate him, nor did he like him. He was utterly neutral, which perhaps pained his father the most. The lack of emotion her received from his son. Anger would've been better then this.

But the man was dead now. Dead as the trees in the cemetery, and the grass that grew around the tombstones. His time was up. No longer did he have the chance to correct all the wrongs he'd done in his lifetime; it was all over. So why was Erik here? Because it was not over for him. He had no idea why he'd attended the funeral, perhaps to make sure it was truly his father. Death does strange things to a person, even if it is the death of someone you don't care about but that you once had a relation to. He went just to make sure that the man who'd caused his mom so much emotion was really and truly dead. It was like waking up because you fell asleep with the window open, and the sun is streaming through right onto your eyes. At first you're groggy and perhaps in a little bit of pain, but finally you pull through it and get up. Perhaps then you'll think why did I leave the window open? or wasn't it snowing yesterday?. Questions you aren't sure how to handle just then because you're conscious mind is just pushing away your subconscious and waking up. That was what it had been like for Erik, but instead of questioning himself about an open window, it was is he truly dead? Gone? out of my life?

Even death hadn't brought Erik closer to his dad, however, so he was also questioning why he bothered to come to the graveyard. He'd already booked a flight before coming down for the funeral to go back up early tomorrow morning, about nine o'clock, but he'd canceled when his schedule had suddenly gone hectic as hell and he had to book a flight for another two weeks down the road. The airport had been very annoyed, and had charged him an extra hundred dollars for a trip all the way back up to New York. It was a damn expensive trip, and one that would've been okay to miss anyway.

In the end, Erik's grandma had managed to get him to stay down in Kendrick for the remainder of school. Three years in this old town. This had resulted in another call to the airport, after calling his mom to explain he wouldn't be coming back up, and a two-hundred dollar fee for canceling. In all, the cost ended up costing him about a thousand dollars. Luckily, his mom and himself hadn't been short on money, even though Erik had moved out of the house at nineteen. His mom had managed a very nice secretary office in uptown New York, and the job was paying enough to support a family of at least six. The Seitz family was only three people, plus a few monthly checks down to Grandma when she needed help.

Erik hadn't realized he'd zoned until he walked into someone, and staggered back a step before reaching out to catch whoever it was's arm so they wouldn't tumble backwards painfully. The roads weren't safe, and a little sharp-edged as well. Releasing the girl's arm, he looked up into the face of Libby. He'd dated her a couple times in the past, when he was a big-shot party boy known around town. She'd be seventeen now, three years younger then him, and damn she was gorgeous now. He almost smiled, but that'd tip her off most likely. He was different, but she didn't know that. He'd be gone before she figured it out anyway.

"Hey....Liberty."He said a little awkward, running a hand through his hair and casting his eyes downward. She was the last person he wanted to run into, but it proved his luck over the years hadn't improved an inch. Running out now would be impolite, however, and if Erik was anything, it certainly wasn't rude. "Just passing through town. Sorry for bumping into you." He finally finished after several very awkward and silent seconds.

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THE NAME'S DREA AND I AM BOARDING THE FEMALE TRAIN
I'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR SEVEN YEARS NOW. I ALSO PLAY
[NO ONE] HERE. AND I AM EIGHTEEN YEARS YOUNG.

[( ANGEL )]