[paradisa] Application

[enjoythe_ride]

NAME: Emily
JOURNAL: iluvroadrunner6
EMAIL: iluvroadrunner6@yahoo.com
AIM: iluvroadrunner6
WIKI NAME: iluvroadrunner
CHARACTERS: TBD

CHARACTER NAME: Bela Talbot
FANDOM: Supernatural
CANON: 306: Red Sky at Morning
WHAT THEY LOST: Any memories of the deal she made to sell her soul. Subsequently, she’s going to think that she actually carried out the death of her parents herself.

PERSONALITY: Bela is a manipulative bitch first, decent human being second. It’s not that she doesn’t occasionally like people—she has friends, or at least people she considers as such—she just looks out for herself first. She had a rough childhood that came to a head when she sold her soul to end her parents’ life (a deal that upon arriving in Paradisa, she no longer will remember). She didn’t realize what the deal was at the time, and once she found out what the price was for her actions, she started to take on an incredibly self-reliant attitude, one that often leads her back into a disaster again, rather than saving her any actual pain. She tries to take care of everything herself before asking for help, and by the time she actually asks, its far too late for anyone to do anything about it.

Outwardly on first encounter, Bela can be sarcastic and snarky or sweet-talking and friendly, depending on who you are to her and what she wants from you. She has an itchy trigger finger, and isn’t afraid to shoot first, ask questions later, especially when to comes to people getting between her and something she wants and/or needs, usually a big pay off. On occasion she can be persuaded to do the right thing, but she can just as easily be dissuaded in the opposite direction. In theory, if you save her life enough (or possibly pay her enough money), she could forge some kind of loyalty in your favor, however, you better hope she doesn’t like the person who’s looking for information on you—or at least hope that they don’t have more to offer.

THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: It really was a beautiful gun. The long barrel, all the engraving in the handle. She studied it closely as she drove away from the motel room, taking note of every groove in the handle, every inch of detail in the barrel. It was an old fashioned weapon, but that was what she liked about it. In the old days they used to put effort into their weaponry, worrying more about personal touches than producing as many as possible, so much so that instruments of death like this one became almost like pieces of art, coming to be worth so much more in the future than just a means of self protection. Now, she was being given a chance for it to be her saving grace.

It really had been all too easy. With the two boys passed out in the next room from the African dream root, all she had to do was sneak in, crack the safe, and sneak back out again before they even woke up. The dream root would have them incapacitated, and the crime itself would be like taking candy from a baby. She really was surprised when they just told her to get a room in the motel and stick around. Or when they bought the fact that Bobby had saved her life in Flagstaff. Or when she suddenly showed up with what they needed, especially when she had at first told them no. But if they were going to be that stupid and play right into her hands, then really, who was she to not take advantage of the situation.

But then again, they weren’t necessarily on their game. They were distracted by the plight of a friend, and while it was cruel of her to use Bobby’s situation to her advantage—she wasn’t exactly above that sort of thing either. The boys should have known that, and since they were distracted, that thought seemed to slip their minds. This was an action that was probably going to invoke the wrath of Dean Winchester yet again, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She managed to charm him out of not killing her before, and she was fairly certain she could do it again, and even if she couldn’t?

For the price she was being paid for this? It was most certainly worth it.

FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: We are all aware that we are living in a somewhat morally bankrupt society. When one is morally bankrupt, it’s probable that they are not fiscally so as well. People usually cling to one or the other—not both. Regardless, there’s still that whole concept of “understanding” your wealth. I’m not sure how that works. I’m told money talks, but I’ve never heard it actually physically speak.

Joking aside, I don’t why people are so hard on those who value their fiscal worth. Money is the one thing on this planet that actually makes sense on a consistent basis. Money is predictable. It’s worth the same amount twenty-four/seven/three-sixty-five. The value doesn’t change based on what a person has done to you, or what that person has done in the past. People don’t provide the same service. Their opinions, thoughts, feelings, they all change—even the ones that are supposed to be unconditional. Or perhaps too unconditional. Regardless, money offers safety and security, no matter how many idealists blow their hot air around saying that it only corrupts. And maybe it does.

It’s also more real, solid, and tangible than any relationship I’ve ever had, and it’s been more reliable for me than any person that’s ever claimed to love me “unconditionally.” So if it makes me a bad person for preferring to put more faith in the feel of cold hard cash in my hand than in another person to be there for me when I need it? Then up my ticket to Hell to first class.

If I’m going to go down, I might as well go down in style.