Post by Marceline J. Chambers on Jun 11, 2013 16:06:15 GMT
Marceline Jamie Chambers
Hey, my name is... Maceline J. Chambers
But most call me... Marcy, Doc., etc
If you want to, you can label me... Pansexual
I've been on this earth for... 29
Which means I was born... September 6th, 1984
I'm a... Local
And only a... doctor at the local hospital
My eyes are... gray-blue
And my hair is... Rusty brown or brownish red
One could say... annoyingly as it is to admit, that I'm pretty short. Barely passing the 5'1" mark, under my long, white Doctors coat I look a bit tiny. They say my best feature is my smile and honestly, since my body never really gotten the boys looking my direction... I suppose that could be true. My hair is kept short, and simple- sometimes I forget to cut it and pull back in a bun, when that happens; I'm not that into the looks as much as I should- maybe that's why I been single for so long,welp. I'm mostly legs (being the second best feature... I think), my chest isn't that impressive but certainly, I am no way flat-chest. Hmph, I think that's all you really need to know.
I'm normally seen wearing... old sweaters that brought up from London, jeans and some ratty old sneakers. But on-duty, I'm in my white coat, black skirt and some color blouse I threw on. Got to play that 'smart-woman' look, of course~
And I supposedly look like... Alyson Hannigan
All round, I'm... careful. Really, why wouldn't I? For the things I know... of course I tread everywhere with wariness- but I'm trying to fix that. Friends use to call me, the little amount I had back in secondary and Medical , that awkward penguin that read books in her corner. I'm not much of a social person but I manage to look past that for my occupation; sometimes I feel almost as if I'm acting, because comparing my more 'charismatic', doctor-self and my quiet, bookish self, it was hard to see the connection between the two. Whatever. I'm not that hard to talk to, just have that habit to let conversations die if there's nothing else to be said. I'm nerd-ish, having the love for comic-book classic and in my small apartment, the bottom shelf in my bookshelf is comprise solely to my collection (so do the boxes under my bed and on top of the telly, and take up a bit of my kitchen counter space, too~). I'm bit of a pack-rat, finding anything shiny, nifty, or otherwise useless, I take it back home. This goes horrible with my scatterbrain-ness. Heheh. I assure you though, I'm good at what I do- don't panic...muchPeople also might find me weird for the fact, I like reading up about cults and abnormalities of the world- well, not in Northvale maybe. Feels like I belong, walking among the supernatural.
I'm in love with... rice and curry, both DC and Marvel Heroes (Its hard to chose which is better), anything space-themed, small dogs, reading up about Aliens or cults or just freaky fun facts, and cheesy rom-coms they have late at night.
Though I detest... eye contacts, thunderstorms, cats (allergies, sorry kitties), assumptions, and bars/pubs
But my best assets are... how I keep my personality from leaking into my skills as a doctor and.. I make a mean hot coco for those winters nights. Finger snacks too~
However my worst... is my inability to flirt and leaving things out around my apartment- papers, books, remote, random junk, etc.
And I dream of... keep life simple- save some lives maybe, feel good about myself and my awkward penguin-ness.Waddle, waddle.
My life story... is complicated. Let's just say, what happen to me in the last few years... was nowhere near of what I thought it would end up. But before I get to the interesting bits, its logical to start from the beginning.
I don't know, and might never know who my mother was, but really, do I care? From the moment I was born, its been me and my dad; simple, easy and true. My father's job wasn't the most glamorous, as he worked down by the docks with muscle work, security guards, the odd jobs- just to keep us afloat. Sure, we had those rough patches, moving out of home more than dozen times but that was fine. We had each other.
When I was younger, kids use to tease me into shyness- my hair was too red and looked more like I ran it over with a lawnmower than it being cut (use to pride myself on cutting it myself; made my dad blow a gasket when he saw half my hair lopped off and a pile of what use to be my long hair). I don't remember much of my kid days, because the weird things started to happen was when I turned 14.
My father, finally being able to save up enough to get us a decent, two roomed apartment in a shady part of London- wasn't the greatest place to raise your teenage daughter but thankfully was the anti-social sort. Seeing that I was older, my father took on himself to take on more jobs and was out the house more often- I, myself, was left to figure out what the hell to do with him being absent most nights, coming in late after I went to bed. So, I started befriending the neighbors. Or one, in particular.
An wise, middle woman- eyes that were the greenest I ever seen, her voice thick with her Persian accent, and the sweetest smile ever. Her house smelt like a heaven- baked goods, food, snack, the works! She had foreign books, which she told me was written in languages such as Latin and Arabic; less and less, did I spend time in the rinky-dinky apartment, and instead spent the evenings, listening to Ms. Zahara telling stories of homeland and waeave amazing tales- tales of monsters, such as werewolves and vampires or things of beauty, such as faeries and sirens. Tales that I thought were simple fantasy.
Fast forward to my 28th, with student loans weighing me down and scholarships galore, I manage to reach the single most important thing in my life (up to that point)- earning that bloody degree. Crisp in my white, doctor's coat, I was nothing but proud of myself. My father, too- the old man, now living comfortably in a small yet decent house in a small town outside of London and still kicking it, by the looks of things. But anyways, it wasn't long after earning my degree and working at a hospital I long since interned as during my younger years. Life was good, of course- living in my cramped apartment, indulging in my wants as that awkward girl-next-door who acted more like 40 year-old than 28.
Then I got this weird letter one day. It was from Ms. Zahara- that came in a shock, especially since I haven't talked to the woman in ages. It puzzle me, but I was honestly happy, seeing her after all these years. Ms. Zahara always been "old" in my opinion- when I was younger, it always been the wisdom of hers that gave her an appearance that she was old but then... coming to her small apartment, I figure out years really taken an toll on her.
Even then, she greeted me with a smile, and that all those years of not seeing her never happen. We fall back into the habit- me, visiting her every now and again during the week, and her with her stories. I brought lunch over, made her tea and she laid in her bed, rarely getting up from it- around her room, there was stacks of books that I could never understand, and at that time, I could never figure out who could move all those books into her move, since the stacks of books seem to grow bigger and bigger each time I visit.
Now, in hindsight, I realize, all this time she's been telling about the supernatural world- the world that I believe as a fantasy. And until the day she passed, I didn't believe none of it. But then, a knock on my door one, rainy night- a messenger carrying a rather decorative urn, the man came to me as both a representative of a Council and by request of Ms. Zahara, to throw her ashes in a place called... Northvale? The guy, annoyingly enough, made himself at home and explain the reason why he was here. At first, he was blunt with the fact Ms. Zahara was a... sorceress? And that she, despite the fact of her old age at the time, was some sort of guardian for people of Magic that were without a family- such as half-bloods and abandon children. Then he went on explain the world of supernaturals and gah, so much information- my 28 years old-self couldn't understand all the information, and that when the guy gave the kicker- Ms. Zahara wanted me to take her ashes up to Northvale, a haven for the supernaturals. At first, I protested, saying that he should instead take this urn to someone more fitting- someone who's her own race, but he was stubborn on the fact and soon, I found myself borrowing one of my friend's car and taking this urn to where she wanted.
I came, did what I had to- tossing the ashes from a cliff overlooking the beach they had in town. After, I nosed around town for a bit, and... well, I was amazed by it. I didn't befriend much people but... I notice the local hospital was heavily understaffed, which concern me, and after asking for a meeting with one for the councils, I asked permission if I am able to move to northvale and work as a doctor in town. Though hesitant, they agreed.
Making the proper arrangements, opening up my spot at the hospital I already worked at for some other doctor and saying my goodbyes, I packed my things and supposedly disappeared, moving into Northvale. I still have the urn of Ms. Zahara, as creepy as it is, and though she willed a good chunk of her books away, there was some ancient books that I decided to take along with me- better that than some random people, hm?
I think... that's pretty much it with my story. Now shoo.
I was born to... Sullievan Chambers, mother is unknown.
And also lived with... no siblings- but there was Ms. Zahara, who shown me the world that I previously been blind to. *cough* she was a sorceress *cough*
Not to mention... how much I want a little fluffy, teacup Pomeranian! Sadly, I don't have one... yet.
My ooc name is... madhattress[/color][/blockquote]
And I've been roleplaying... 1 1/2 years
The Secret Word is... PASSWORD ACCEPTED
