IL: Izzy

For because...well, because I can't help myself.
Probably should have made a guy but...I don't enjoy rping as them as much and I want to enjoy rping here.
_{And I wrote far too much for a bio and whatnot. If you find my self control, please return it prompltly...//sob}

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NAME: Elizabeth “Izzy” Scordato
AGE: 22 years
GENDER: Female
PARTNER: Karsten
HEIGHT: 5’4”
WEIGHT: 117 lbs
PLACE OF BIRTH: Mays Landing, New Jersey

INVENTORY:
-Pistol (Smith and Wesson)
-Small knife
-Small can of salt
-Matches

VEHICLE: Her Mother's 1978 Ford F250 [link]

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PERSONALITY: Humble / Clever / Dependable / Kind-Hearted / Curious / Emotionally Guarded / Impulsive / Inexperienced

Izzy is still wet behind the ears and knows very well that she has a lot to learn, but she can be a bit brash despite this and seems to feel the need to prove herself. She’s very logical and rational when things are calm--sometimes too much, going as far as to overanalyze things. But she's still very young and tends to follow her gut when in a pinch, acting before thinking...and then worrying over her actions later.

People make her uncomfortable. She’d rather keep her nose shoved in her sketch book than carry on a conversation, but she’s fairly successful at not letting on to this. It has been drilled in to her head that people are not to be trusted, and she does her best to keep this in mind. However, she usually can't bring herself to be cold or rude to others without due cause. Also, despite her best efforts not to, she easily finds herself getting attached to others, which pretty much throws rationality and logic out the window. She has a natural inclination to help others, too, even when she doesn’t particularly like someone personally. This is probably why she is so on edge around people—she knows people cause her to not think straight.

In order to converse and interact normally with others, she acts like everything is alright. It seems important for her to try and keep a level head or calm demeanor around people. Izzy plays off things that actually bother her like they don’t matter at all, easily able to shrug off one of her own emotional stories like she’s talking about the weather. This is when she’s in front of others. It’s not unlikely to find her dealing with her feelings honestly when she thinks she’s alone. Naturally, she can’t always keep her cool around people. If something really causes her to become upset or lose her temper, she usually tries to avoid whatever it is that bothers her or walk away from the situation. If that’s not possible, then she tends to turn into a quiet little bundle of irritation. It’s extremely rare that she actually explodes or causes an uproar when upset. She much rather not make a scene or draw too much attention to herself, and she'd prefer not have her emotions cause trouble for others.

Aside from her true feelings, she’s fairly open and usually doesn’t bother hiding much about herself. Anything from her past to what kind of undies she wears is free game. If she sees no harm in telling it like it is, she’ll do it. After all, she figures most people who ask could find out anyway, so why go through the extra trouble of coming up with false answers? Besides, she’s come to realize when you’re so openly honest, people tend not to believe you or take you serious, anyway—especially when you do it as nonchalant as she tends to.

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BIO/HISTORY:
Growing up, Izzy didn't see her life as being all that different from other families. She had a mother, a father, and even an older brother--nothing unusual there. Her mother worked as an accountant, and her father was constantly away on business trips. And when her father did come home to visit, the house was often visited by his friends or business associates. A fairly common situation, really. She knew plenty of families that had to move around quite a bit like hers did, too, so that wasn't too odd. Sure, they had weapons scattered around the house and stored in the basement, but her dad liked to hunt--lots of dads went hunting. He even took her older brother hunting with him once he was old enough. This, too, is pretty normal. They'd go away for a day or so, then weekend trips, then week-long ones...

It was only natural for Izzy to eventually want to be included. However, her father was against it completely. Wouldn't most fathers love to have their daughters share a common interest? Apparently not him. It didn't help that her mother agreed whole-heartedly. She was forbidden from going with them, having to settle for merely reading his notes and journals or hearing the stories once he returned. She read and read, turning to books with similar creatures once she'd made it through her father's journals. Her mother allowed that much as long as she tried to live like the other kids in town, and she did.

Izzy played outside when the days were nice and took up drawing when they weren't. She went to school and made friends just like any other child. She made good grades and seemed to be doing well. To the other kids, she was funny and had a wild imagination, always telling such ridiculous stories about monsters and such. None of them even suspected she was being honest, and she soon realized that maybe her life wasn't as normal as she had thought. Knowing this, she began to play her stories off as others took them--merely fiction--and life continued to go on as normal as it had always been for her.

It wasn't until one night when she was fourteen that her life began to turn into something other than her kind of normal. Her brother came home one night after a hunt but her father not. This was not unusual. Sometimes after hunts, their father would send her brother home and stay away on business a few days longer. But her father never came home this time. Somehow, Izzy knew why.

Her brother never spoke of it, though. Her mother didn't ask. They moved again...and again...and again. They went from living for months in houses and apartments to staying no more than a week or two at cheap motels. Her mother stopped trying to work and always wanted to stay inside. Her brother disappeared for days on end without word and left her to watch over their nervous wreck of a mother. Even now, she wasn't allowed to go hunting. Izzy took up working where she could, instead, partially to help pay their way and partially so she wasn't always stuck at "home". She could only take so much of the mind-numbing TV, after all. Her mother didn't seem to mind it, though, and it seemed to distract her from her fears. Fears. Yes, her mother had grown scared. At first, Izzy thought she was merely worrying about her brother, but after a while, she suspected something else was to blame. Each day, her mother grew more and more frightened...until one night.

Izzy was woken with a soft kiss to her forehead and listened in a groggy daze while her mother said something about a phone call from their father and stepping out for a bit. Tired, she didn't bother making sense of it and nodded before going back to sleep. Her mother seemed perfectly calm--happy, even--so everything must have been okay, right? Perhaps not. She, too, never came back.

Days later, Izzy's brother returned to find his sister alone in the room. She wouldn't talk to him at first but she did not need to. He didn't want to talk to her, anyway. He resented her, blamed her, for a good while after that. Still, he finally brought her with him. He taught her what their father had taught him, and she tried to prove she could be useful by sharing what she'd learned from their father's notes. Reading about such things and actually doing them were very different, she quickly found out. It was hard to think straight or recollect her learnings when faced with the real deal and often resorted to acting on reflex instead. Izzy was a quick study, at least. She was not very big or strong, unlike like her brother, but she could at least be quick and nimble, constantly wriggling out of harms way by the skin of her teeth. Her brother called it dumb luck, but he knew it was her way of making progress and that she still was learning. He would take on jobs without her when he felt it was too much for her to handle. He'd tell her to wait back and rest, read up on things, or prep supplies while he was gone. She'd usually insist on going with him but he'd refuse in the end. Looking back, she wished he hadn't. Maybe if she had gone, she could have prevented it all.

Unlike her mother or father, her brother did come back to her...but not for long. When he had returned, he wasn't her brother anymore. He was something she didn't know yet. Izzy was still too young and too inexperienced. She panicked and fought him off, but she couldn't bring herself to kill him. She had lost everyone else and couldn't handle the thought. So she ran--still hates herself for doing so. Since then, instead of hiding away and trying to start a normal life, she has spent her time striving to improve and helping when she can. When she's not trying to follow a lead, she's got her nose in some book.

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LIKES:
-Spicy Foods, Sour Candy, and Italian Water Ice
-Lively Music
-Outdoors and Sun
-Reading (Comics, Tales, Myths, etc.)
-Sketching/Doodling
-Fishing and Frog Catching
-Older Video Games

DISLIKES:
-Clowns
-Cold (Weather, hands--she doesn't care. Keep 'em away)
-Large groups of people
-Being left behind
-TV
-Small Children
-Having to act refined/elegant
-Deep Water (Has a fear of drowning)

EXTRA:
-Has always had a great memory. It only takes seeing or hearing something once for it to stick. Her gears just don't turn when she's stressed or panicked.
-A bit odd when she thinks she's alone. It wouldn't be unlikely to find her talking to herself, randomly cryinging/sulking, or just having a private jam session with the radio when she thinks no one is around.
-Has a shit-ton of sketchbooks/notebooks. Sketching seems to help her keep her head. She scribbles down everything from creatures to random people she sees on the streets.
-Still needs to work on her offense-skills and tactics, but she has proven to be exceptional at slipping in and out of tight situations. Trying to keep a tight grasp on her isn't easy.
-For someone who's usually so logical, her fears are far from it. She has no reason to be scared of things like clowns and children. They just creep her out.
-Inexperienced in all forms of the word. Totally a clueless little virgin when it comes to anything partaining to that stuff. She's not afraid to ask blunt questions about it, though.
-Tends to sleep in her truck a lot, and she likes doing so with her feet hanging out the window...not very safe, really. Neither is sleeping in the truck bed...which she also does quite a bit.
-Pretty attached to one particular coat of hers, which really isn't hers to begin with. It was her brother's, given to him by their father when he started hunting, so it's a way to keep both of them in mind. It's more of a reminder of what can happen than a sentimental item. Helps her keep her head sometimes.
-Has an old Gameboy Color that she tends to keep on her most of the time. She only has a handful of games for it, but she plays it often--going through many sets of batteries. Because they moved around so much and buying games and consoles weren't really high on the priority list, she never has had the chance to really play any of the more modern games. Although she drools over the new systems, she's just as content with playing Pokemon Yellow or something on her little Gameboy. Plus, that old-school game music seems to annoy Karsten, which is a plus.


CURRENT EARNINGS: $45


RP SNIPPET: Your car has broken down on the side of the road. It's a clear five miles before you find help in either direction, and it's started to rain.

Blue eyes narrrowed on the contents under the hood, brows knitting together in complete and utter confusion. Izzy had no clue what she was looking at, really. Sure, there was an engine in there, a battery, filter...things...but she had no idea what she was looking for. It couldn't have been gas because she had recently skipped lunch to fill it. Nothing was smoking...What was wrong? Why couldn't her brother or father have taught her this car...stuff?

"Rusted ol' clunker. Junk heap...Crap bucket..." The words came out like a defeated mutter, a bit too tired to actually sound biting. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asked while slamming the hood shut, as if the vehicle could answer her. Of course, it didn't. Instead, she found herself walking over to the passenger side, popping open the glovebox and pulling out a map. If there was anything nearby, she couldn't tell from the map. No cars had passed lately, either. "Start walking. Right, of course..." She sighed, grabbing a bag to bring with her. She seemed hesitent to leave the truck behind, but there really was no other choice she could think of.

Locking up, she started hoofing it, but only got a measly couple hundred feet before she felt the pitter-patter of raindrops. "No," she all but groaned, halting. The rain started to fall until it was a steady downpour and her shoulders drooped in temporary defeat. "Walking can wait," she concluded, about-facing and trudging back to the familiar green truck. It didn't take long for her to unlock it, climb inside, and buckle down the hatches to wait out the weather. Pulling out a thin blanket from behind the seat, she pulled it completely over herself and laid down. The radio wouldn't even turn on; she'd tried a couple times before. Tucking her face into the seat, she curled up and let out a few fed-up mumbles.