Post by cup of KETCHUP™ on Nov 6, 2010 7:59:01 GMT 11
Name: Willow J. Hattin
Age: 16 years old.
Gender: Female.
Trainer Type: pokemon trainer; nothing special.
Hometown:
Appearance:
Personality:
History:
Goals:
Other Info: no
How did you find us?: to feel inhuman
Age: 16 years old.
Gender: Female.
Trainer Type: pokemon trainer; nothing special.
Hometown:
Willow was born in Vermillion City, but she was raised in Lavender Town and thus considers this her hometown.
Appearance:
Being 'raised' for a job in the Pokemon Tower in Lavender Town, it's no surprise that Willow has pale skin; her mother was a very pale child as well, which contributed to the factor. Although sometime it's a clean shade, at other times it looks almost a sickly shade. Her hair is a clean silver color, with a few strands of white mixed into the bunch. She has a nice posture and thin body, and she doesn't like eating much. She rarely has a lot of energy, and instead is usually composed and quiet, mature as she can be.
For her age, she is rather short, but has a mature face. Her eyes are a dark, deep red, which is rather frightening to some people. Once you can get past her somewhat fierce appearance, she actually isn't that bad.
She enjoys the darker colors when she wears clothing; pinks and whites and oranges and yellows do nothing for her. Although she enjoys wearing skirts (that's pretty much the majority of what she wears) she has recently gotten used to wearing jeans and a color tee-shirt, and since this is ideal for adventuring, that's what she usually walks around in. She prefers lounging around in a dress vs. jeans and a t-shirt, though.
Personality:
Since Willow isn't used to being around other people except for the occasional coo and hug, being around more than one person makes her extremely uncomfortable, especially when they try to engage in conversations. Having her opinion being acknowledged and spoken out loud is something extremely uncomfortable for her; she is more of a follower than a leader (she tries to change this when it comes to her pokemon family, though). When she speaks, she will either be extremely quiet and stare at her feet all the while, or stutter and mess up her sentences a lot. She isn't really used to speaking.
She is very reserved; she doesn't need and doesn't want attention attracted to herself. Others might find her secretive, but she honestly isn't; she simply doesn't need other people to talk to all the time. She can handle being independent and alone, and sometimes prefers it that way, with the exception of a pokemon or two, at times. When she warms up to something, she can be extremely affectionate and sweet. She loves singing and as a little girl excelled at the task. She often sings to herself.
She also loves drawing, and when she has nothing better to do, she will grab her bag and drag a drawing pad and pencil out. She prefers drawing darker pokemon (much like her taste in clothing) but can draw a lot of pokemon, except for the ones with really complex looks.
History:
They were such a happy little family, for such a dreary life; Willow always pale as a doll, with a mother who visited the Pokemon Tower three times a week and her father, who would go gambling with his friends the other four. Her parents were rarely ever together, but when they were, Willow always saw them as the perfect couple; holding hands and kissing and laughing and smiling. And holding her hand and swinging her around... and smiling. They were the family who always smiled. The family who always had hope.
Always so lonely. Always so happy.
At least, they used to be happy. Until that one night, when her Mother decided to come home a day early and found Papa with another girl, with little Willow simply playing with her dolls by herself. There was so much screaming, and six-year-old Willow didn't understand as she hugged her Absol doll to her chest, the family Houndoom curled around her protectively as it listened to the screaming and sensed unfriendliness. The family Houndoom was like a second mother to Willow.
Papa.
That was her first word, and she never got in a last - a few days later her mother dragged her off to Lavender Town, and they bought a pretty little house, big enough for the two of them. The Houndoom had stayed with their father; after all, he was the trainer. Her mother, although devoted to pokemon, only had a little Meowth who was uncultured and anti-social. Her other pokemon (a Blastoise) had died, and with that so had her passion for training. Which was why she had decided to work at the Pokemon Tower. To appease the spirits of Pokemon.
Since her mother couldn't leave her alone, Willow started playing a vital service at the Pokemon Tower; a mourning little girl. Who wouldn't want to give the tower money, with a pale-skinned, silver haired girl dressed in black, with only a Absol and Houndour toy to play with? Willow didn't mind; she loved the dark colors and loved it even more when these strangers hugged her and whispered to her; things her real mother would never do. Now that her husband was gone, her attention was 100% on paying respects to pokemon.
Although a little jealous of her mother's attention to the dead pokemon, she soon learned from watching various gym battles on television that her mother really was a great trainer. At age twelve, she solemnly accepted her task and let her mother mourn her dead partner, and even came to enjoy the task a little bit. Being quiet and reserved was easy; even as a youth, she wasn't loud or brazen as the other kids, always clinging to her mother's side or playing with her dolls. But as she watched more gym battles that her father and mother had been on during T.V, a little flame grew inside of her, and she realized that she wanted to be like her parents. Maybe she could please her father and mother and be just like them in their days of youth.
On the day of her sixteenth birthday, she bid her mother farewell, and dressed in her usual dark clothing, she set off.
Goals:
Her goal is to create bonds with her pokemon like her mother and father before her. She also wants to impress her father and mother.
Other Info: no
How did you find us?: to feel inhuman
