Nadia Blackburn

[Nadia Blackburn]

;;Nadia Lourdes Blackburn;;
Is Entering Sins of Impunity

It’s All About You

Behind the Puppet Master

::NAME::
Anna
::AGE:
26
::GENDER::
Femme
::RP EXPERIENCE::
10+ years
::CONTACTING YOU::
PM or Yahoo Messenger
::ACTIVITY::
Try and peek in at least once a day; CDT
::THE PUPPETS::
Isabel Morgan & Alejandra Pereira

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The Identification Tag

Character Basics

::ALIAS::
Nadia
::NAME::
Nadia Lourdes Blackburn
::AGE::
23
::GENDER::
Female
::ORIENTATION::
Asexual, she's never really been physically attracted to anyone, regardless their gender.
::SPECIES::
Human
::JOB::
Slings coffee at a local coffee shop & works as an intern for a rag sheet newspaper
::RELIGIOUS AFFILATION::
Unitarian Universalist

Where Your Abilities Fall

The Character Talents

::STRENGTHS::
1. Occult Knowledge
2. Oneiromancy
3. Contacts
4. Anonymity
5. Ambidextrous

::SUMMARY::
Having spent a good portion of her life with her nose in a book, Nadia grew up with a love of the occult and the odd. Starting when she was just ten, she read the entire collection of the true Brothers Grimm fairy tales. Stories of faeries, tricksters, and the infamous jabberwock of Lewis Carrol drove her towards more pre-teen and young adult novels. Embracing novelists like Anne Rice, as she grew older the movie genre exploded with vampire, werewolf, and the paranormal. It drew Nadia in, prompting her to persue non-fiction literary works to explore the myths and truths behind them. She has a small personal collection, and uses her journalism classes to worm her way into interviews with specialists and theorists that she wouldn't normally have access to.

Nadia's mother, Penelope, is a French-Canadian who was granted permanent residency after she married her father in the late 1970s, shortly after the 'hippie' revolution. In the '70s, Penelope would travel around as a drifter and offer to interpret people's dreams and read tarot cards - many times for drugs in return. Since there was a surge in the use of hallucenogenic drugs, many (Penelope included) thought the uncanny accuracy of the 'dream interpretations' and forboding tarot readings were all a side-effect of the LSD, shrooms, and various other drugs that were widespread. The 80s came and went and Penelope married and left her old lifestyle behind. She didn't think back on it until Nadia was four years old. At four, Nadia was a big talker. She would often tell her father stories about what she did that day, what mommy was making for dinner, and would come up with stories about imaginary friends. It was one morning while she was getting dressed, that she told her mommy that she couldn't wait to meet her baby brother. Penelope was confused, but two months later she would discover that she was recently pregnant. As with most parents, when you fear your child has something wrong with them, you try and find a way to suppress it. Her father Jacob told her that dreams were meant to be kept to yourself, hoping that voicing her revelations would just leave them to fade away. As Nadia grew older, the dreams got more intricate - more depth behind the simple images. Her 6th grade English class had done a genealogy unit, where each student was required to dig deep into their family history and that's when Nadia discovered the truth behind her gift. Her great-grandmother was a Romani, or a 'gypsy'. One of the many sects of people who were threatened by the growing Nazi regime. As American raided into Caer with the commencement of D-Day, both Nadia's great-grandmother and her infant grandmother were rescued from Nazi persecution and granted Asylum once they were taken across the 'pond' and eventually landing in the hands of the Canadian government. Gypsies have been widely known for their eccentricities and allegations of being able to predict or 'see' the future weren't out of the question. Between her gypsy heritage and her particularly discomforting talent, Nadia has kept quiet about it for many years. She avoids digging too deeply into her dreams, in fear of finding something she may not want to know.

Working in the journalism field, Nadia's gained contact information for a great many people - both direct and indirect. She's also made many of her debut pieces under a guise of anonymity... partially to keep her name out of the paper until she actually achieves her journalism degree. She also made a point to learn to write with both hands when she was younger. She's ambidextrous, but she's naturally a lefty. Learning to write with her right hand was because she felt alienated compared to all her right-handed peers.

Nadia's feet shuffled across the wooden floor of her studio apartment, clad in a thick pair of cotton socks. She had that dream again... Inexplicable. Impossible.

That was the word that kept resonating in her mind. Impossible. The awkward dream felt like a scene from a movie. A long standing war with angels and demons, flanking each side of the mortal plane. Between them stood vampires. Werewolves. Zombies. Power struggling, ebbing and flowing from each facet..while that word pounded behind her skull.

Impossible.

It was a known issue with writers, getting words stuck in your head long after they're necessary. Nadia poured a cup of coffee as she yawned and stretched her free arm upward. Geisha stood up, stretching her self out from her oversized pillow. Nadia looked over at her with a smile before bringing her coffee cup with her to her small desk in the corner. She has notepads scattered all over the small wooden surface and she digs a pencil out of the top drawer and stares at the blank yellow legal pad.

Impossible.

She writes it down, mildly frustrated as she stares holes into the paper in front of her. It nagged her.. it begged. Plead. Again, she scrawls the word across the paper and she repeats it aloud to herself. "Impossible... Angels, Demons.. of course it's impossible."

She lists them again... angels, demons, vampires, werewolves.. the word impossible beside every one of them. She looks over her list, taking a long drink of her coffee with a weary sigh. The day was going to be one of those days if she didn't scrape this inconsistency off her brain. The way her inner voice nagged that she wasn't looking at the right picture. The way her brain looked at the words screamed there was nothing to see there. She set the cup down, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. Something had to be in there. Something...

Impossible.

Impossible.

I'm possible...

Nadia sat upright, looking at the word carefully again. Impossible. Im possible. .... I'm Possible.

The pencil clattered to the floor as she hastily scooted the chair back from her desk. All of them... angels, demons... everything.

Possible.

An entire war with supernatural figures. Guises. Terrors. Nadia shivered at the though, clutching her shoulders despite the fact that her small apartment was growing warmer every moment as heaters below her kicked on in protest. She knew it wasn't luck.. it couldn't be. Her great-grandmother's talents... her mother... the prophecy unfolding before her was no accident. It was Intentional. Demanding.

And it terrified her.

::WEAKNESSES::
1. Germaphobe
2. Hypersensitivity to scents
3. Anemic
4. Superstitious

::SUMMARY::
Due to her diet, Nadia has an iron deficiency that's lead to her developing anemia. It makes her tire more easily than most, and she bruises easily as well. She also has an intense fear of germs and is never without her trusty bottle of hand sanitizer. She's known for her cleanliness at work, and she never has anything left spilt on her counter when she's the one whippin' up coffees and lattes.

Her dreams have made her incredibly superstitious, often seen tossing salt over her left shoulder where demons have been rumored to reside. Her apartment is littered with wards against the occult, the only exception being that she's unable to burn potent incense or place herbs that give off overbearing aromas. Her nose has been made incredibly sensitive to nearly all smells outside of the coffee shop due to how much time she has spent there.

The More Human Side of Things

Human Appearance

::HAIR::
Her hair is naturally a dirty blonde, but she's been dying it a bright red since she was a freshman in high school. What was once written off as an 'experimental phase' has transcended into everyday norm for her.
::EYES::
Naturally they're dark brown, but she has non-prescription colored contacts in a deep green shade to make the red hair seem more 'normal'.
::HEIGHT::
5'6"
::WEIGHT::
140lbs
:MARKS::
Nadia has an eyebrow ring in her right eyebrow, but she's required to remove it while at work at the coffee shop. She also has a small scar that's dotted on the back of her hand from a mistake from her youth where she tried to extinguish a lit shoelace by waving it around - it landed on the back of her hand and left a small burn scar the size of a pencil eraser.
::SKIN TONE::
A medium toned color, not overly tan but not 'redhead' pale.
::BODY TYPE::
She's fairly thin, having not done much physically with sports in her childhood and spending a fair amount of her time either reading or writing.
::CLOTHES::
Work Uniform: A white button down blouse with a pair of dark skinny jeans and black ankle high boots. She's also required to wear a dark green half apron when she's serving to tables at the coffee house.
Internship Wardrobe: When she's writing, or researching for an article - she tends to try and keep with the professional guise of a full-fledged journalist. She wears differing combinations of skirts, slacks, and blouses with tailored jackets.
Free time: When she's not at work or working on her degree - Nadia generally wears casual clothing. T-shirts, jeans, and she tries to go barefoot as often as she can. It's quite dirty in New York City.. so that tends to only be at home or if she's wearing flip flops in the park or at the beach.
::SUMMARY::
Nadia isn't exactly the type who can just infinitely blend into the background. Her fiery red hair is her staple, but she also has embraced her gypsy heritage. She adores head scarves and chunky jewelery, most of which have some sort of occult symbolism somewhere woven within. She's really embraced the folklore of her history and is somewhat of a fashion pariah at her workplace. While her work wardrobe is professional, her casual dress is somewhat of a mixed variety. She doesn't believe in spending too much on something as temporary as clothing, and loves to shop second hand. This sometimes is interpreted as 'not caring', but this is partially due to the fact that she always seems to have white hair on her pant legs or skirts. In truth, this is due to her chestnut/white Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named 'Geisha'. She tends to shed quite a bit, since Nadia lives on the top floor in her studio and the heat from the building all rises up to her floor.

She dabbles in makeup, mostly neutral shades tend to make up her palette. She always has her nails done in some fashion (though when she's making work calls, she tries to regulate them to simple and elegant french tips) and she absolutely never leaves home without her eyeliner on.

For someone her size, she's actually quite self conscious of her mid-section. She refuses to wear anything that might expose her midriff. She steers clear of half-shirts, bikinis, and almost always has some sort of a jacket or shawl over her shoulders that she can pull around her torso if she feels it's necessary. She does appear to be younger than she truly is, due in part to her hair color.

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Personality is Everything

How They Might Act

::LIKES::
1. Writing
2. Coffee
3. City Lifestyle
4. Yoga
5. Technology

::DISLIKES::
1. Rural living
2. Soda
3. Red Meat
4. Artificial Food additives
5. Adaptations of books to film

::FLAWS::
1. Cold
2. Insensitive
3. Bad Liar

::BLESSINGS::
1. Love-Struck
2. Excellent memory
3. Approachable

::SUMMARY::
New York City living has agreed with Nadia. She's been enveloped into a sub-culture that exudes sophistication and Nadia's definitely found the parts that she can embrace. She's always had a passion for writing, and she is absorbed by all things high tech. She has a second hand laptop that she uses for work and school, but she's still a fan of the old fashioned pen and paper for article progression. She loves social networking and texting. The fast-paced city, coupled with her over-indulgence in coffees has lead for her to explore de-stressing methods and has fallen in love with yoga. She appreciates all forms, but she finds bikram yoga (yoga done in overly hot temperatures) to be the most therapeutic when she can find the time (and the funds) to attend such a class.

Since moving to New York City, Nadia has become a strict vegetarian. She eats no meats, no animal by-products (steering clear of dairy, egg, etc) and has recently taken a step further to abolish all artificial foods. This lead to her increasing her coffee and tea intake, as she's cut out soda entirely. She even writes a freelance blog about her diet and experiences in her spare time. She has grown so fond of the city, that the idea of moving back to the rural areas she grew up in leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She hasn't had a particularly bad experience in the 'boonies', but she can't imagine her life anymore without the lights, glamour, and excitement of the city. Part of the city living has brought her closer to the entertainment business, and as a hardcore writer she absolutely detests the theatre adaptations to her favorite novels. It's one of the few things she'll truly go on a rant about, as opposed to her vegetarian or religious views.

Journalism has a nasty way of de-sensitizing people to the horrors of the world, writers in particular. Exposure to these things has given Nadia a less-than pleasing view of the world. As such, she sometimes comes across as cold or even insensitive to those around her, due to her lack of pity. Unfortunately she's a horrible liar and has trouble covering up her less-than pleasant opinions when asked. As ironic as it may sound though, Nadia's incredibly love-struck. She falls in love easily and expresses it freely. It's part of her overall nature, and she's easily approachable. She has a friendly demeanor that seems to draw people in to her. She's developed an uncanny memory and it earns her quite a few extra bucks at work while waiting the tables at the coffee shop.

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Checking Out the Background

Historical Stuff

::FAMILY MEMBERS::
Penelope Blackburn (Weiss) - Mother
Jacob Blackburn - Father

::SCHOOL::
Graduated from Milton High School in Milton, VT in 2006. Moved to New York to persue her work in Journalism at the Graduate School of Journalism at the City University of New York.
::GRADE LEVEL::
She's in her 2nd semester of a 3 semester program at CUNY
::GRADUATION YEAR::
Fall of 2011

::HISTORY::
0-3: Nadia was born on January 29th, 1987 in rural Vermont to her parents, Penelope and Jacob Blackburn. She was named for her great-grandmother who fled Nazi-occupied France in the 1940s. As an infant, Nadia was quite average. She never showed signs of being 'advanced' at her age, nor did she learn to walk or crawl at any accelerated rate. She began to talk when she was just over a year old, which the pediatrician determined was due in part to the environment in which she lived. Nadia's mother was a stay-at-home mom, and while doing her household chores would sing songs or explain what she was doing to a little Nadia who would motor around the house in her walker. The exposure to the English language at such an early age, and it's continued exposure, would inevitably be what pushed Nadia to pursue a career in writing.
4-6: When Nadia was four years old, she had her first brush with her gift. Her mother was dressing her that morning, and Nadia had a habit of talking her mother's ear off with her dreams she had that night. Many times, they involved your normal children's dreams... things not out of the ordinary, perhaps related to something she'd seen or done the day before. However, this time she told her mother she was so excited for her new baby brother. When her mother told her that she was silly, and she didn't have a brother - Nadia looked up and insisted that she was going to have a little brother. She knew it, because she had a dream that she was taking her little brother to school with her. Her mother brushed the dream off, but two months later her mother discovered that she was pregnant.

Her father wrote it off as a strange coincidence, and Penelope didn't say anything in response. Despite her previous brush with the unexplainable in her young adulthood, and it was several months later and Nadia's brother Matthew was born. Nadia was nearing 5 years old, and was the overly attentive and doting older sister. By six, she hadn't had another brush with the unexplained and instead was preparing to begin kindergarten... much to her mother's worry.

7-11: Nadia's elementary school days were quite normal. She spent the early years learning rudimentary math, sciences, the senses, colors, and laying all sorts of foundations for the future. She had plenty of friends, but the locale wasn't very kid friendly. Houses were spread few and far between and so she spent her free time spread between reading and playing with her younger brother. Around the 3rd grade, she had been assigned to do a book report on the story of Sleeping Beauty. She discovered the original tale of Sleeping Beauty and her teacher was shocked at the horrific story she turned the report in on. Her mother tried to pry her away from such things, but Nadia's love for stories won out in the end and she continued to read them... only on the condition that she not re-tell the stories to her brother or her classmates. By the 5th grade, she was reading at an accelerated level and had forged a deep love for classic and horror stories. Her child-like innocence wasn't going to last long though.

12-17: In the 6th grade, Nadia entered middle school and began to excel in her English classes. They explored a genealogy unit for eight weeks, where Nadia learned about her great-grandmother, the Romani gypsy who was born in Slovakia. Nadia got an unnaturally low grade on her assignment that semester.. due to her getting distracted by the uniqueness of her great-grandmother and focusing too much of her time on her and not the rest of her family history. After the unit was over, Nadia went into research on the gypsies and Romani of Europe. Her digging lead to the folklore and myths about gypsy bands that would tell fortunes and seers who would predict the future. She brought the information to her mother, Penelope, who would finally divulge what she knew and what she'd done in her own youth. Excited, Nadia began to look for signs and she'd dig and pry at friends and relatives to discuss their dreams in hopes to pull some sort of knowledge out of them. It wasn't until she drug out a couple of shady dreams from her father, that would inevitably lean towards the death of her paternal grandparents, that she stopped digging for information and instead tried to look away from the portent dreams. Instead, she dug more into the supernatural and the occult and began to amass her collection of books and reports. She worked at a drug store part-time, starting at 16 and used good portions of her paychecks to try to expand her own personal library. She graduated in 2005, just a couple of months after turning 18.

18-Present: Nadia took in a couple of years at Johnson State College where she earned an Associates degree in communications. She worked for the county newspaper for a year afterward before she yearned to break free of the rural 'middle-of-nowhere' feeling. She applied for admittance to CUNY and was accepted for the 2009 fall semester. She moved to New York City, finding a job with a local coffee shop called the 'Grey Dog' and working freelance for a rag sheet NY newspaper. Her parents helped her get herself situated in New York, but she's managed to get a handle on her own business fairly quickly. She adopted a dog from the New York ASPCA, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel that's chestnut brown and white, named Geisha. Part of her desire to move to New York City (aside from the journalism opportunities) was through one of her books. She read (several times) a book by Katherine Ramsland, that focused on the New York underground 'vampire' movement and the supernatural that seemed to resonate from the city that never sleeps. Several of her 'vampire hunter' clubs she checked out were little more than over-zealous fans of vampire myths, or rather even some disgruntled fans of Anne Rice or Japanese anime gone wrong. Despite the lack of organization, Nadia was determined to follow in the guise of a true hunter. She has yet to encounter a true supernatural creature, but she's sure... when she finds one, she'll be ready.

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Your Own Mad Skills

How Good Are You?

::CODE WORD::
the CATS pajamas
::APPLICATION STATUS::
Finished
::RP EXAMPLE::

Rain drizzled down across the tranquil forest. Spring was finally trying to breach the chill of winter and slowly... the mortals of the area emerged from their homes to enjoy the glimpse of what was to come. Overgrowth had rendered Isabel's choice haven to be a unsightly mess, which ironically enough - was perfect for the coming months. It wasn't long, not yet the tail end of the weekend when it happened. When they came..

"Dude, let's hide out in there. This rain is killin' me." An innocent enough plan. Isabel had locked herself into seclusion after she parted ways with Zakhar, feeding almost exclusively on whatever small prey she could find in the bitter northeastern winter. It had been scarce, and if she'd had a stronger will... she wouldn't have confronted the two men who took shelter in her own refuge. She'd have offered mild hospitality.. covered by a song. Perhaps repentance. Absolution. But the urge was overbearing. The hunger hurt.

"The feast..." blood pounded behind her eyes, forcing them to shut tightly as she shuddered under the weight of malnutrition. It was a disgrace to God himself to ruin his masterpiece in a barbaric fashion. It was unclean. Her mind screamed in resistance, but her body moved fluidly. Agile, despite the skin pulled too taut over her features. Graceful, regardless the hunger within. Her eyes gazed hungrily below, the two boys having been content enough to peel off their shirts to dry while they took shelter. "No.... no, no, no.." She urged herself quietly, but to no avail. She jumped....

Panic. That would have been an appropriate way to describe what happened next. Both of them, leaping in terror as the sight of an all too skinny woman standing in front of them. Her eyes sunken in with her fingers bony and frail. They split up, each moving in an opposite direction. "Ahh they always do.." The beast within sounded cheerful, expectant... and in only a few steps Isabel covered enough ground to confront one of the boys. His eyes were wild with uncertainty, his voice shaking as he choked out words. Trying to explain himself and his friend. "Look... I-I'm really sorry lady. W..we were cold, it was wet... I swear, we didn't think anybody lived here. Oh man... please, please don't hurt us.." He closed his eyes, waiting for her hand to strike but she smiled. Her heart wrenched, the smile was so cruel.... the beast within so opportunistic as it overtook her soul and instead her hand touched flat to his chest. He recoiled, her hand was so cold... and she took a step closer. Abusing her God-given gifts as she lulled him into an intoxicating comfort. His shoulders slacked as the voice inside chittered with glee. He was hers for the taking.

"Tell me you're sorry..." her voice crooned in his ear, her lips hovering just above his ear as she spoke. "Say it... and I'll make sure you're forgiven.." His throat worked, barely squeaking out before she pressed his head gently to the side and exposed his milky white neck. Her flesh felt the warmth of his skin, the pulse of his blood beneath it before she bared her fangs and drove them in. Her mind exploded in ecstacy, the blood pouring forth from the puncture like a rich red honey on her tongue. The beast wanted him drained... left with nothing but a dried husk to be disposed of. Ahh... how long had it been since she'd had a proper 'meal'? Months no doubt... ever since she fled from New York City in her self-righteous fury. The pounding sensation grew dull behind her eyes. Her hunger satiated as her lips drew back from his neck. His body hung limp in her arms as she whispered delicately against his wounds. "Our Father who art in heaven.. hallowed be thy name.."

"Oh God.... Jesus... fuck me... Oh man.... Oh God.." Isabel turned, her gaze fixiating on the figure on the other side of the room around them both. Her eyes dilated, a different beast threatening to well up inside of her. "Stop that.." Her voice barked out at him. Cold. Heartless. She turned back to her victim, slowly sitting herself down onto the floor - his head falling limp in her lap. She brushed his hair with the palm of her hand, stroking it in a motherly fashion as she continued softly. "And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory.." His friend edged closer, looking down into Isabel's lap at the cold and ashen face of the fallen. His words broke again, a panic rising as Isabel's hand stopped it's rythmnic caresses. "Jesus.. you killed him. You god damned.." "I said STOP!"

Anger washed over Isabel in waves. Fury ready to be unleashed at her very fingertips. She abandoned the lifeless man in her lap - standing and simply letting him fall with an audible 'thump' onto the dirty wooden floor. His friend quivered and Isabel reached out with one cold hand. She secured his wrist and there was no guilt in her touch this time. No inner voice crying out for sanctuary from her actions. For once... the beast within agreed with Isabel. It wanted bloodshed. She wanted to punish the blasphemer. Selfishly, she urged him on. His body betraying his fears and responding in earnest to the pheremones in the air. The stench of lust permeated the room and Isabel's voice took on a feral undertone, almost snarling as she spoke. She knew he was weak... and in his weakness she found sin. "Filth.. son of Perdition.. to use HIS name in vain only to beg for his forgiveness for your folly.." She looks down at the bulge in his pants and feels his blood pumping furiously beneath his wrist as she wrenches tighter. "You deny your precious friend his final rites, when all he wanted was to repent and be in the merciful arms of our Lord. And you see fit to deny him that right?! Do you not realize what God has done for you? He gives you freedom, the capability of immortality, redemption from the most wicked of sins.. for one simple absolution. You admit your faults, and you merely repent... and he forgives you. You recieve divine salvation for being cruel, heartless creatures and yet I sit to suffer while he watches his scion live a life of horror and filth!" He says nothing, clearly confused by her outburst.. which does nothing to quell her anger and instead she takes her other hand and reaches up towards his own short hair. Yanking it down, his head jerks aside fitfully. "No... G-" His words are cut away, Isabel's teeth tearing into his neck in a fit of anger. The blood touches her lips and in that moment, she gives way to the beast within. A frenzy overtaking her as she throws her weight against him, driving both of them down onto the floor. She tears, yanking her head back to expose the muscle, ragged flesh, and fresh blood as it seeps down onto the floor. His mouth is frozen agape, the horror etched across his face as she falls back onto her heels. Her eyes scanning the room.

The beast is quiet, and instead the horror and guilt fall down onto Isabel's shoulders. The bodies bearing such a wide difference, between peaceful ascension and horrified damnation as her hands shake. The blood has perked her vitae, giving her a more 'natural' look instead of the shriveled skin and sunken eyes. Her hands reach instinctively for her coat pocket, withdrawing her rosary as she clenches it tightly in her hands. Her fingernails threaten to cut her palms as she gently rocks on her heels - looking at the carnage that's fallen upon her hands. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned..." Each bead on her rosary slowly slips through her fingers, prayer after prayer muttering through her lips as the blood begins to dry upon them. Each plea becoming more and more desperate. Somewhere, in the seclusion of Northern New York.. the rain is soft on the shingles above. The blood is running cold - and Isabel is mourning the gradual loss of her humanity..one kill at a time.

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[Isi Runasimi]

Accepted by a panel of staff.