Application #3

[repaythedebt]

|| Player Information ||
Name: M.J Magpie
Personal Journal: N/A
Time zone: EST
Contact: jessa (dot) rollo (at ) yahoo (dot) ca.
Current Characters: N/A


|| Character Information ||
Fandom: Bioshock Infinite: Burial at Sea
Name: Elizabeth Dewitt
Canon Point: Post Burial at Sea Episode 2.
History: here.

Personality:

Elizabeth's personality is, on the surface, vastly different depending on which part of the cannon you're talking about. At the point from which I'm removing her from cannon, Elizabeth is quite a bit darker than her younger self. Though he still dreams of paintings pastries and Paris, Elizabeth is not the innocent girl she once was.

Elizabeth can handle her enemies with cold cruel condescension, with manipulation, or with an expert silver tongue. She's developed the skills to tell people what they want to hear, and to get what she needs by manipulating others. She's also capable of defending herself if things get rough. Not a fighter, but she can throw a wicked left hook. Add to that the skills to handle fire arms, cross bows, and an array of plasmids encoded into her DNA, Elizabeth has the ability to back up her no take-no-shit attitude. She does depend heavily on stealth, and she can get overwhelmed by enemies easily.

Though she can come off very cold and calculating, Elizabeth is still a good person at heart. She will not abandon an innocent she has the power to save, even if the personal cost is vast. She is protective. Loyal. Fierce, and brave. She has high morals, but she is familiar with the evils of men. She does not trust easily, anymore. Elizabeth with face her fears with a brave face, even if she is lonely inside.

Because of a dramatic shift in her circumstance (trying not to be too spoiler-y here!) Elizabeth had become not only quite the pessimist... but also just slightly insane. She keeps a radio, gifted by the man she knows will inevitably try to kill her, through which she hears the voice of her father, speaking through the static. Yet even that voice does not claim to be what it is not, it does not claim to be Booker, even though she desperately wishes it was. A few times, she's even seen him. Elizabeth is quite aware of her "tenuous mental state", and her Booker-voice explains that people weren't meant to see the things she's seen (see the history section for further detail).

In terms of drive, Elizabeth would have nothing left from her cannon. She had ended the last man who crossed her, and she had re-payed the little girl who she had endangered in doing so. The only thing she really wanted beyond that was to see Booker again. I think "no-drive" is the kind of thing that can be quite damaging, if not looked after. I think this would have Elizabeth sort of subconsciously longing for somewhere to belong. Someone to belong with. Something to ease the emptiness.

Skills | Powers:

Elizabeth has taken a few Plasmids, which rewrite her DNA to allow the use of certain superhuman abilities. All plasmids require the use of Eve, which is a kind of genetic wonder drug. If possible, I would like Elizabeth to be supplied with Eve at least once in a while, so she could eventually suffer the side effects of too much splicing. Cuz you know. Drama. Plasmids cannot be used without enough eve. Her plasmids are as follows...

Peeping Tom: Allows her to turn invisible and see through walls for a limited amount of time.

Iron side: Generates a temporary shield that absorbs bullets and reloads her weapons.

Old Man Winter: Allows her to shoot a beam of ice from her hand and freeze enemies solid.

Possession: Possesses an enemy to fight on your side. When the effects wear off, the enemy is automatically knocked out.

First Person Sample:

[Static. The feed cuts in mid-sentence, as if she's no idea she's recording]

--I can't see anything, here. For a moment before things went dark, I thought... I thought I could see through the doors again. I saw... him, and Sally... I saw that she was safe.

But I shouldn't be here, you know that. I don't have any business being anywhere at all. I'm... I'm dead, aren't I? Wasn't that the grande finale? Wasn't that... the cost of my debt?

And now I'm here by god knows what means-- no Sally, no Atlas, no Booker--

While, at least I've got you.

[There is silence here, but Elizabeth continues as if she's heard someone else speak]

... Yes, you're probably right about that.

Third Person Sample:

Elizabeth was never under any illusions; she understood the delicate state of her mind as much as her hallucinations did. Her Booker never claimed to be her father at all, even if... even if she wanted him to. Asked him to. The delusion was never enough, especially when not even it believed it itself.

Her heels clicked sharply against the concrete as she strode recklessly down the fog swollen street. The sidewalk, the shops were all vacant, silent as the grave. The streetlight barely thinned the darkness.

This was all wrong. She wasn't supposed to be here. She felt like she was caught in a trap slowly closing, like she needed to run, to get away. Her pace quickened as she sped down the empty street, searching for even the tiniest scrap of comfort.

The mouth of a dimly lit alleyway would have to do. Elizabeth tucked herself under the flickering orange bulb, which was naked under the shattered plastic. Her hands shook as she fished a smoke from her purse. A cigarette... what she really needed was a good shot of Eve. Nothing like a fist full of ice to make a dark desolate street seem a little less threatening.

The sickest part of it was that part of her didn't care if her hallucinations, if her Booker was real. She wanted to see him. Needed him. And it was a damn weak thing to fall infatuated with a lie. She knew that, but it wasn't the cold un-comforting fact that eased her loneliness. For a moment she looked into the bleak darkness of the alley, almost wishing she would see him.

Just one more time.

But there was no time for girlish dreaming-- Elizabeth suddenly heard footsteps from the depths of the ally.

"Who's there?" she called, voice twisted in tension and bad expectations.

Marks: A small 'M' cut into the very top joint of her right pinky.