Name: Davis Dierdre
Age: 15
Geomancy: Sand
Personality: Deathly shy, but can't keep her mouth shut when provoked. Very much outspoken. Blunt, rude, tends to be brutally honest (though she does tell the occasional white lie when it'll get her out of trouble), can't stand liars or stupidity, incredibly sarcastic.
Usually stumbles over her words, as her brain tends to think at a far faster speed than she speaks. Incredibly insecure, though, about anything, really. Which isn't helped by how extraordinarily clumsy she is. Is also quite aloof- prefers animals or books to humans, though she always loves chatting with an intelligent human.
Despises immaturity, or most people younger than her. Questions absolutely everything (is the sky really blue?).
Dierdre's one major flaw (she has many minor flaws, such as her clumsiness, shyness and insecurity, but as a human, she has one obvious flaw) is that she tends to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, or do the wrong thing at the wrong time.
Appearance: Is mildly pretty, but in a way that doesn't really draw attention to her (which is one thing that she'd be grateful for, if her self esteem wasn't so horrible). Thick (more like bushy), long, curly brown hair that is usually kept out of her face by being tied back in a neat braid- or two braided pigtails, if she feels silly, optomistic or exceptionally cheerful. Brown-green eyes. Wears glasses, as she has exceptionally poor eyesight.
She's not a twig, but she's not fat, either. She's healthily thin, though she is a tad bit chubby, due to her love for chocolate. (Amazing! A female character that is neither beautiful nor thin to the point where she looks like a skeleton!)
Her tatoo, or, rather, tatoos, are rather unusual. All over her body, they look like light-brown freckles, aside from one thing- they're square. Diamonds, really.
History: Can't say, shall ruin everything. I'll say a few things, though: her father was (I say 'was' because he was killed in a car accident when Deirdre was eleven.) also a Geomancer and part of the Guild. Deirdre is aware of this. She doesn't know she's one, though, as her Ankh didn't show until, er, like two minutes before the earthquake, I suppose. Or her dad didn't tell her. Something. I haven't figured that out, yet.
Deirdre's mother is alive (and owns a bookstore. If Deirdre mentions 'the store', she's referring to her mother's shop.), and she lives with her.
Her best friend is Andrew, a boy who lives nextdoor to her and her mother. They've been best friends since they were both four- they're the same age, and go to the same school, as well. His personality is mostly the same as Deirdre's, though he's not shy, clumsy or whatever. (I mean, obviously, he has flaws, but she's my main character, and so she's the one that has the gigantic, horrible flaws.)
And no, there's not going to be any romance between the two. They're friends. Harry and Hermione friends (they're like brother and sister), not Ron and Hermione friends (they have a potentially romantic relationship). Eek.
Weapon: A wand. A thin piece of driftwood, actually. Read on.
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"And so they lived happily ever after, blah blah blah," Andrew finished, bring his synopsis (of a book he'd finished reading) to an end.
Deirdre snickered as she playfully hit his arm. "Eloquent as always. Now, do tell me how it really ended. If it finished like that, we may have to throw things at Madam Johnson, for assigning us that thing as our 'over-the-summer project'. Honestly, she's not even French, why does she have to teach us? I'd prefer a nice Frenchman, myself."
"That's because you would wow him with your trivia, effectively chaining him to your heart, Deirdre," her companion pointed out.
"True, true. But Johnson's a horrible teacher. I don't think she's even realized how neither of us know a word of French. Ah, well."
"Though I do agree, we must be off to the store, it's five 'til- your mother'll be oh so distressed if she discovers you've been down at the beach again, drawing stuff in the sand," Andrew reminded her, standing up and brushing the sand off his jeans.
"Stuff? You call my artwork, which would rival Da Vinci, stuff? How dare you! I must thwack at you with my wand of sand-scribbling!" Deirdre cried, hitting him with the 'wand'- a piece of driftwood she'd found earlier in the day.
She didn't quite get to hit him with it, though, as no less than five seconds after she grabbed the wand, the ground began to move violently.
Shrieking, she grabbed Andrew's arm, playful banter forgotten.
"Earthquake! It's a bleeding earthquake!" a nearby tourist screamed.
Next to her, Andrew was staring at her left wrist intently, wide-eyed in shock, ignoring the buckling earth beneath them.
"Oh mother of magic," he breathed, voice
Deirdre looked at him oddly, as if he'd just announced that he liked to dance with blue cats wearing tutus, and replied, saying, "If you haven't noticed, there's an earthquake going on, Andrew, and we should probably find some place to sit it out, so we don't DIE by being crushed by a FALLING BUILDING.'
"And honestly, Geomancer? That's not funny, you know about my fa-" she stopped short in her reprimand, as she'd followed his gaze down to her wrist, and now saw what he was talking about.
An Ankh had appeared on her left wrist, and the second after she'd looked at it, promptly turned pitch-black.
((No, Andrew isn't a Geomancer, if that's what you're thinking. He absolutely and completely non-magical.))
can't find the sig from this set, so instead, you get a .
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