EDEN MARI MATTHEWS.

[EDEN MARI MATTHEWS]

EDEN MARI MATTHEWS



it's not like I need somebody
TELLING ME WHERE I SHOULD GO AT NIGHT

FULL NAME: eden mari matthews
NICKNAME: di [short for diamond]
AGE: seventeen
YEAR: first
ACCOMMODATION: the cells
BIRTHDATE: august 6th
GENDER: female
ORIENTATION: straight
STATUS: single
CANON/ORIGINAL: original

[/left][/blockquote]

don't worry you'll find somebody
SOMEONE TO TELL HOW TO LIVE THEIR LIFE

LIKES:
ice
diamonds
water
classical music
harp
writing
honesty
kindness
men (though she's a virgin x:)
light
DISLIKES:
the dark
cruelty
loud rock music
dishonesty
rough materials
sensory deprivation
alcohol
dogs
her side effects
most of the staff
STRENGTHS:
practically immune to fire
will eventually have inpenetrable skin at will
caring
will help anybody
WEAKNESSES:
very inexperienced
abilities are haywire
too trusting
easily manipulated
FEARS:
the dark
dying
being taken advantage of
GOALS:
to get rid of her powers
to go back to a normal life
SECRETS:
her mother had and died from the same condition in a more advanced stage
will do anything to be normal
DISORDER:

CRYSTAL FORMATION

still at a very early stage; at the moment, she has the ability to create crystals in the palm of her hand. eventually, she'll be able to form them into any shape or size and colour - she can only manage diamonds at the moment - this makes her very valuable to a lot of people as a 'get rich quick' freak, as she'd put it.

DIAMOND SKIN

she's still very inexperienced with this, but sometimes when she's threatened, her skin will go as hard as a diamond, hurting anyone who punches her and leaving her unscathed. eventually she'll be able to protect herself totally, but right now she can only protect one spot at a time.

HEALTH ISSUES.

she has a lot of health issues because of her crystal formation - sometimes, a shard of diamond will form in her body, causing her extreme pain in that area. she either requires surgery or, more recently, they've been able to heat the area to a blistering heat, melting the diamond and letting it flow back to its source. she's learned to adapt her defences to this method, though she does have a burn mark across her left wrist because of it. she also has mental health issues including paranoia and depression because of the way she was taken from her home.

PERSONALITY:
shy
nervous
dreamy
distracted
honest
naieve
trusting
caring
cuddly
a little sad
paranoid
giving
musical
innocent
easily manipulated

'cause you're so perfect
AND NO ONE MEASURES UP

PB: miss mosh
HEIGHT: 5ft 7
WEIGHT: 110lbs
HAIR: white-blonde, very long.
EYES: blue
BODY TYPE:
slender, toned; has a burn scar on her left wrist as well as an incision scar under her ribs from surgery.
MUTATION:
she looks almost totally normal, except for an unnatural sparkle to her skin which becomes more pronounced when she's protecting herself. her fingertips are tinged with an icy blue and covered with what looks like frost. they sparkle so much she often wears gloves to hide them.
STYLE:
she tends to wear light colours, bright clothes, her skins sheen, white hair and light clothes often making her appear resemblant to what one might think of as an angel, minus the wings. this used to get her a lot of attention, attention which she hated.

yeah all by yourself
YOU'RE ALL MESSED UP

MOTHER: ashae matthews - deceased
FATHER: george matthews - 37 - scientist - bellafields
SIBLINGS: paradise matthews - 17[twin] - unemployed - holland
OTHER RELEVANT FAMILY: na
HISTORY:

eden was one of two impossibly blonde little girls born to a mother who refused to show her face. their mother died soon after the girls birth, living only long enough to name her children after the safe haven in the bible, perhaps hoping it would protect them from her condition. she had been a doctor at bellafields, an unknown gene holder, and she had begun to develop her disorder while on the staff there. as soon as she realised what was happening, she left her work immediately before anyone noticed and moved to holland, but too late to stop the rapid rate of mutation. unknown to her, she had become pregnant by one of her coworkers while she worked there, her children also becoming exposed to the radiation which pulsed through its walls. nine months later, she gave birth, and died suddenly of a strange disorder which caused her body to form crystals within her blood vessels of her heart, rupturing them immediately. no one at such a hospital had any kind of cure for this. ironically, if she had stayed at bellafields, she might have lived to raise her daughters, who were immediately moved to an orphanage.

while at the orphanage, the girls were raised normally, happily and healthy with no obvious oddities about them at all. it wasn't until eden was fifteen that her fingertips began to change to an odd blue colour, something they all laughed about her being anemic even though it wasn't true. both of the girls were abnormally pale; they always had been - but it was eden who began to develop the sheen of diamonds on her skin and she hated it, even though people were curious and fascinated by her. she couldn't explain it, neither could the doctors. one day, she closed her hand, and a crystal formed inside it. she didn't think anything of it, assuming she had just phased out and picked it up without thinking. later, when it happened again, she realised what was happening and freaked out.

it was around this time she was contacted by a 'specialist', who looked her over and told her about a special facility where she could go to be normal. she agreed immediately to go, only to be later talked out of it by her twin sister who couldn't bear to be seperated from her. when she told the man she had changed her mind, she was horrified to find her hands strapped behind her back and a piece of wood shoved between her teeth to stop her talking and she was thrown into a van, something which didn't hurt her as much as it should have as her skin protected her most vulnerable areas. she was concealed in the dark in a trip which took five days to get her to bellafield, and she was scared. she misses her sister terribly and has paranoia and depression from not talking to her. she also has a phobia of the dark which causes her some problems in the cells at night.

i was losing myself
TO SOMEBODY ELSE

OOC NAME: guess =P
AGE: 20
AREA:UK
CODEWORD: -edit-
RP SAMPLE: can be from another site. must meet word count.

Dean sat on the ward bed, staring into space, his
pale features partially concealed by his too long blonde
hair which fell into his eyes. He had just snorted cocaine,
the residue of the white powder brushed gently under his
nose, a failed attempt to brush it away on the sleeve of the
white medical garb he wore. The loose tshirt did little to
hide his toned, yet too-thin frame, the weight loss due
to years of drug abuse. He had been here for nearly a
year now, shipped straight from Harlington Correctional
school for gays and bisexuals. To be honest, those first
few months had been a whirlwhind of angry fits, forced
injections, straightjackets, swearing, ending up black and
blue from his struggles, counsellors sitting calmly telling him
he had mental issues and that his drug addictions would
be combated here, words which were met with a laugh and
a prompt hawk and spit on the counsellors face. Later, he
met up with one of the security staff, a man who had looked
at him with hungry eyes he had recognised immediately.
By this point, Dean was desperate for drugs, screaming every
night for the cocaine he believed kept him alive, getting so
utterly worked up that he would overload into an epileptic
fit, blood streaming down his nose and into his mouth,
making him choke until staff were forced to rush in and turn
him on his side, at which point he would throw up a mixture
of blood and vomit, shaking to a stop of his epileptic fit,
screaming at the staff to get the fuck away from him. He
hated being seen in any form of weakness, it was lame.

There was one person who had kept Dean calm at Harlington,
someone he missed so much it was a physical pain, something
he should really talk about here, but would he fuck!. Dean
didn't do emotions, everyone knew that. It was more about
keeping up appearances than not wanting to open up - he had
to appear hard, or everyone would use him. The truth was, he
really missed Tom. That was why, when the security guard had
propositioned him with sex for drugs, he had shamefully
submitted. Now he was even more addicted than before,
prostituting himself for each fix of the white powder which
dominated his addled mind. In those moments of lucidity, all he
could think of was the happy times he'd spent with Tom, just
holding him in the bar lounge they'd spent so much time in, the
patience Tom had shown him when he'd gotten high again,
frightening him with the thought of losing him when he needed
a shock. He couldn't stand those thoughts, so he got high, or
slipped into a psychotic rage when he couldn't get hold of drugs
because it was his dealers day off. Dean had killed people in his
rages, but they seemed to forgive him as he was so mentally
fucked up, which frustrated him even more. He craved punishment
for being this monster, this creature even he secretly hated.

The truth was, the power which surged through his veins when
he killed was just another high, another adrenaline rush he
couldn't resist. The thought of someone's life slipping away due
to his actions took his breath away, like the suicide he could
never go through with being played in front of his very eyes, a
test run for the real thing. He had noticed that Stryker was also
here, a fact that didn't surprise him, but made him cringe in pain.
Dean had hurt Stryker, bad. By falling for Tom. Now he was here
and Tom wasn't, and Dean had to fight the urge to go after
Stryker for the simple reason of easing his loneliness. It was hard,
every time they were in the recreation room together he fought
not to throw himself at his former lover, still oddly attached to
Tom despite their seperation. Oh, Dean was still a bastard, he
raped, he killed, he mutilated and he fucked with people's minds,
but he couldn't bring himself to hurt Stryker, guilt still trapped in
his mind from what he had done to the guy. He blamed himself
for Strykers very presence here. He had been going to get clean
when he'd broken up with him, then gotten with some dealer
guy and ended up worse than before. It was so messed up, but
everything was Dean's fault, so he made sure that everyone
knew that by being as obnoxious to people as he possibly could.

Now, sitting in the bedroom, Dean imagined that the room was
spinning with colours, happy colours, and that Tom was behind
him. He fell back on to the bed, letting those thoughts carry him
away. He would not be pleased if anything interrupted his drug
induced happiness. He shared his room with two other guys, and
they would both fucking pay if they dared to interrupt him. Fuck
it that he looked so pale and could well be dead, his eyes glaring
at the ceiling like a corpse who had died suddenly, or that his
arms lay limply at his sides. His mind was over active, playing
scenarios over with Tom. A small smile tugged at his lips, only to
fall away when a lucid moment slipped over him, making him
remember that it was all false. He fought to slip back into oblivion
- he didn't like remembering. Soon, he was back to staring at the
ceiling, not moving, mind in hyperactivity.

[/size][/center][/font]