Post by sybbil on May 2, 2011 1:34:13 GMT -8
Name: Bombalurina Thompson
Aliases: Bomba, Bee-bee, Tommy, Bombs. (Her father would refer to her as Rina or Bumble-Bee)
Age: Just recently turned 26
Build: Tall for a queen; around 5’10-5’11, voluptuous curves
Origin: Moved from Portland to Felidae after college, in search of bigger and better opportunities - and to get away from her “clinging” step-mother.
Occupation: Freelance photographer and journalist, though she is technically employed by the Tribune, the main newspaper in Felidae.
Eyes: Bottle green, darker around the iris and lightening towards the outer rim.
Hair: Thick, deep auburn red, with brighter red and copper highlights. She wears in a bob, whether it’s straight or in waves really depends on what she wants that particular day.
Scars: Nothing special, she’s always been careful not to accumulate scars.
Fur/Markings: A pure white bib, muzzle, and paws contrast strikingly with the red calico of her soft, short fur. She also has black speckles in the overcoat.
Attire: She likes flashy evening gowns, dark jewel tones, and the latest fashions. Her trademark black cloche goes with most outfits she wears, as she tends to build her outfits around specific pieces - like a purse, a hat, or a necklace.
Accessories: A black felt cloche with a crimson ribbon and feather usually adorns her head, while a gold charm bracelet that her father gave her on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday is always on her wrist. She can be seen slugging her camera box around with her around town, which tends to mean she’s “working, darling.”
WOC: She has a small Derringer (her father’s insistence when she moved to Felidae) that she tucks into a holster on her garter. She also has quite the set of lungs, though she is horribly tone-deaf.
Appearance: She loves to look sultry, often wearing bright red lipstick and heavy eye-shadow. She certainly looks the quintessential flapper, though she can clean up and look respectable…If she feels like it.
Personality: She will bull into a room and refuse to take no as an answer. She enjoys using her sexuality to get her way, but it’s not for the toms, or even the sex: she craves power. She enjoys getting her way and has temper tantrums when she doesn’t. Those tantrums meant kicking and screaming when she was a kitten, but now her ways are a little more subtle and manipulative though not by much.
Special skills: She has an eagle eye for angle and lighting in photography.
Weaknesses: She believes herself to be a better catch than she actually is. It goes to show that her arrogance and ambition know no bounds. She is also a terrible gossip.
Fears: Being dropped like a hot potato – she would rather be the one doing the dropping. She is terrified to acknowledge that she could die like her mother – in the prime of life and in utter agony.
Likes: Dancing. Being treated to a fine meal by her beau-of-the-week, usually on his ticket. Spying on people and digging up their dirty little secrets.
Dislikes: Righteous, upstanding citizens – she finds them dull and unimaginative. She has found religion to be completely pointless, since when does God help you pay your rent? Or for that matter, take away your mother?
History: Born in Portland, Oregon, to an older man and his younger wife, Bombalurina Thompson was in a family of social climbers. Her great-grandfather had been a tailor, and her grandfather went into the newspaper business, dabbling in politics on the side. Her mother was the debutante of the town and married her father, who was the town’s DA, a rising star himself. They had Bombalurina about a year after the wedding and everything was going well. Bombalurina lived a life of pomp and circumstance, being spoiled rotten by her parents.
And then, in the late fall of 1918, disaster struck. Influenza swept through Portland and sickened half the town, killing half of the sick. Her mother grew weak before her eyes and died in agony. When she fell ill as well, her father almost despaired. But she lived through the ordeal and she and her father proceeded to rebuild their lives. Less than a year later, her father remarried.
Her step-mother was a very sweet queen, kind and thoughtful, a wealthy widow whose companionship Bombalurina’s father found very refreshing. The only problem was: she wasn’t Bombalurina’s mother. No matter what the poor queen did, Bombalurina refused to cooperate. Her father insisted that his daughter was still grief-stricken and maybe college would help her calm down. It didn’t.
After achieving her degree in journalism and photography, she returned home to Portland. She was there barely a year before she washed her hands of the place. She claimed “nothing exciting ever happens here!” Her father tried to put up a protest but it was too late, she was already gone.
Reaching the east coast, Bombalurina wandered from city to city, taking freelance photography jobs and writing small pieces for local rags. The moment she set foot in Felidae, she got a feeling – that this place was buzzin’.
Love Interest: None at present. She had a beau in Portland, but she dumped him like a sack of potatoes before she went to college.
Quotes: “Not now, darling. I’m working.”
Theme Song: none at present...
Aliases: Bomba, Bee-bee, Tommy, Bombs. (Her father would refer to her as Rina or Bumble-Bee)
Age: Just recently turned 26
Build: Tall for a queen; around 5’10-5’11, voluptuous curves
Origin: Moved from Portland to Felidae after college, in search of bigger and better opportunities - and to get away from her “clinging” step-mother.
Occupation: Freelance photographer and journalist, though she is technically employed by the Tribune, the main newspaper in Felidae.
Eyes: Bottle green, darker around the iris and lightening towards the outer rim.
Hair: Thick, deep auburn red, with brighter red and copper highlights. She wears in a bob, whether it’s straight or in waves really depends on what she wants that particular day.
Scars: Nothing special, she’s always been careful not to accumulate scars.
Fur/Markings: A pure white bib, muzzle, and paws contrast strikingly with the red calico of her soft, short fur. She also has black speckles in the overcoat.
Attire: She likes flashy evening gowns, dark jewel tones, and the latest fashions. Her trademark black cloche goes with most outfits she wears, as she tends to build her outfits around specific pieces - like a purse, a hat, or a necklace.
Accessories: A black felt cloche with a crimson ribbon and feather usually adorns her head, while a gold charm bracelet that her father gave her on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday is always on her wrist. She can be seen slugging her camera box around with her around town, which tends to mean she’s “working, darling.”
WOC: She has a small Derringer (her father’s insistence when she moved to Felidae) that she tucks into a holster on her garter. She also has quite the set of lungs, though she is horribly tone-deaf.
Appearance: She loves to look sultry, often wearing bright red lipstick and heavy eye-shadow. She certainly looks the quintessential flapper, though she can clean up and look respectable…If she feels like it.
Personality: She will bull into a room and refuse to take no as an answer. She enjoys using her sexuality to get her way, but it’s not for the toms, or even the sex: she craves power. She enjoys getting her way and has temper tantrums when she doesn’t. Those tantrums meant kicking and screaming when she was a kitten, but now her ways are a little more subtle and manipulative though not by much.
Special skills: She has an eagle eye for angle and lighting in photography.
Weaknesses: She believes herself to be a better catch than she actually is. It goes to show that her arrogance and ambition know no bounds. She is also a terrible gossip.
Fears: Being dropped like a hot potato – she would rather be the one doing the dropping. She is terrified to acknowledge that she could die like her mother – in the prime of life and in utter agony.
Likes: Dancing. Being treated to a fine meal by her beau-of-the-week, usually on his ticket. Spying on people and digging up their dirty little secrets.
Dislikes: Righteous, upstanding citizens – she finds them dull and unimaginative. She has found religion to be completely pointless, since when does God help you pay your rent? Or for that matter, take away your mother?
History: Born in Portland, Oregon, to an older man and his younger wife, Bombalurina Thompson was in a family of social climbers. Her great-grandfather had been a tailor, and her grandfather went into the newspaper business, dabbling in politics on the side. Her mother was the debutante of the town and married her father, who was the town’s DA, a rising star himself. They had Bombalurina about a year after the wedding and everything was going well. Bombalurina lived a life of pomp and circumstance, being spoiled rotten by her parents.
And then, in the late fall of 1918, disaster struck. Influenza swept through Portland and sickened half the town, killing half of the sick. Her mother grew weak before her eyes and died in agony. When she fell ill as well, her father almost despaired. But she lived through the ordeal and she and her father proceeded to rebuild their lives. Less than a year later, her father remarried.
Her step-mother was a very sweet queen, kind and thoughtful, a wealthy widow whose companionship Bombalurina’s father found very refreshing. The only problem was: she wasn’t Bombalurina’s mother. No matter what the poor queen did, Bombalurina refused to cooperate. Her father insisted that his daughter was still grief-stricken and maybe college would help her calm down. It didn’t.
After achieving her degree in journalism and photography, she returned home to Portland. She was there barely a year before she washed her hands of the place. She claimed “nothing exciting ever happens here!” Her father tried to put up a protest but it was too late, she was already gone.
Reaching the east coast, Bombalurina wandered from city to city, taking freelance photography jobs and writing small pieces for local rags. The moment she set foot in Felidae, she got a feeling – that this place was buzzin’.
Love Interest: None at present. She had a beau in Portland, but she dumped him like a sack of potatoes before she went to college.
Quotes: “Not now, darling. I’m working.”
Theme Song: none at present...
