Post by Lola on Nov 30, 2005 19:35:09 GMT
Name: Lola
Home before the crash: Brighton originally… then a little while in Oxford… then a little while in Sydney…
Occupation before the crash: Student/ drop out
Physical Description:
- Eye Colour – Brown
- Hair Colour and Style - Dark brown, long, straight
Personality: She’s a daydreamer, which can be a bit trying at times – she’s not always paying attention to reality. However, she loves the island, as its still just an adventure to her, so she’s thoroughly enjoying herself.
She doesn’t so much have difficulty trusting people as much as it doesn’t occur to her. She writes pretty much constantly, and loves it wholeheartedly. She can tend towards being quiet, and hates that part of herself – she tries to hide it from those around her, with mixed success.
Despite her array of eccentricities, Lola is a loyal friend (to what few she has) and throws herself fully into what relationships he has. She’s very much a hopeless romantic.
History: She was born, and grew up, in Brighton, and has the accent to match. She grew up on a council estate in a two bedroom house with her mum and her older brother, who left at seventeen and hasn’t contacted them since. She had been just fifteen, and had been angry for some time. She had always thought she was close to her brother, but an argument the evening of her birthday had told her that she had been wrong. Tom had complained that she was the only one who counted, and that he was just the failure, along with a slew of little digs. In the morning he had been gone. While she hated her estate, she loved Brighton, especially the beach. While the island is a world away from the cold, grey shores of England, she loves the sea in all forms.
School wasn’t especially remarkable for her, and considerably less enjoyable. She had a few forays into self harm, which came to nothing more than some pale scarring on her legs, but generally threw herself wholeheartedly into writing, coasting through her subjects on natural ability. She was constantly under pressure though, cited as the first in her family to go to University – and a really good one at that. Truth be told though, she didn’t like schoolwork much. She just wanted to write.
She went straight from school to Oxford University, to study maths. She only lasted two terms, though, before she dropped out. She was too much of a daydreamer, and ran off at the offer of an adventure with an Australian bartender from her college, thereby following her brother’s example and slipping from her family’s radar. Predictably enough, the relationship didn’t last, and he dumped her a month after arriving in Sydney. She spent a week in a backpacker’s at the edge of the city before realising her savings were severely depleted, and spent what was left of them on a ticket to L.A., where her brother was last heard from.
Crash site: Tail end (Site 3)
Itinerary: A notebook; a pen with Tinkerbell on it; a long suffering IPod with dwindling battery.
Strengths and weaknesses: Lola is very, very good at maths. However, she has no common sense. This could prove a problem living alone on an island somewhere in the Pacific. She has trouble making new friends, but very much wants to, so it remains to be seen how well she’ll do with that…
Sample post: The sun was setting on the water, and it looked a though it belonged on a postcard. The tropical evening was balmy, warmer then many midsummer afternoons back home. As such, she was down to a vest top, but she couldn’t bring herself to change her trouser for something shorter. She wondered idly how long she’d stay stubborn before the heat forced her into a skirt.
She’d wanted an adventure, and it looked as though she was going to get one. In another idle thought, she remembered the structured, academic world of Oxford – or at least the few shorts months she’d been at the University. And again, memories of Brighton, and the unremarkable childhood, and her mum’s routines. Spending no more than an hour at the Pleasure Beach and being home by seven. It seemed a world away. It pretty much was. Tucking her feet under herself to sit cross legged, she mused on what her mum would be doing now. Both her kids had just taken off now – and everyone has always assumed that she would be the one to make something of herself, to take care of her mum as she grew old. They’d all given up on Tom years ago, and taken it as fact that he’d drift through life. She’d envied him that. Now that the expectations were gone, the claustrophobic pressure, she realised that she didn’t want to be the write off. Too late for that.
The plan had been the search for Tom in L.A. Not a brilliant plan, certainly, but she had to do something, and her options were limited. She couldn’t go home again, didn’t want to stay in Australia any more (she’s never forgotten the horror stories of spiders that hid in toilets, and it made her very uncomfortable), and she figured she could make some sort of life fro herself, even if she couldn’t find him. She’d always wanted to visit America. So she’d bought her ticket, and set off with nothing but a backpack of clothes, an old envelope with Tom’s address of three years ago, an IPod she couldn’t bear to part with no matter how scarce money was and a pan and paper. Now she was down to the last two. She hoped she could somehow find her clothes. Or that there was a generous stranger with the same clothes size as her nearby.
But, she reminded herself, shaking out of her sudden melancholy, she was on a bloody tropical island. Rescue would come eventually, she was sure, and she just had to enjoy the meantime. Perhaps this was what she needed, some evaluating time to consider the multitude of ways he’d messed things up and get some writing down. And this was definitely the place to get some inspiration, she decided, enjoying the last sunrays paint the horizon.
Home before the crash: Brighton originally… then a little while in Oxford… then a little while in Sydney…
Occupation before the crash: Student/ drop out
Physical Description:
- Eye Colour – Brown
- Hair Colour and Style - Dark brown, long, straight
Personality: She’s a daydreamer, which can be a bit trying at times – she’s not always paying attention to reality. However, she loves the island, as its still just an adventure to her, so she’s thoroughly enjoying herself.
She doesn’t so much have difficulty trusting people as much as it doesn’t occur to her. She writes pretty much constantly, and loves it wholeheartedly. She can tend towards being quiet, and hates that part of herself – she tries to hide it from those around her, with mixed success.
Despite her array of eccentricities, Lola is a loyal friend (to what few she has) and throws herself fully into what relationships he has. She’s very much a hopeless romantic.
History: She was born, and grew up, in Brighton, and has the accent to match. She grew up on a council estate in a two bedroom house with her mum and her older brother, who left at seventeen and hasn’t contacted them since. She had been just fifteen, and had been angry for some time. She had always thought she was close to her brother, but an argument the evening of her birthday had told her that she had been wrong. Tom had complained that she was the only one who counted, and that he was just the failure, along with a slew of little digs. In the morning he had been gone. While she hated her estate, she loved Brighton, especially the beach. While the island is a world away from the cold, grey shores of England, she loves the sea in all forms.
School wasn’t especially remarkable for her, and considerably less enjoyable. She had a few forays into self harm, which came to nothing more than some pale scarring on her legs, but generally threw herself wholeheartedly into writing, coasting through her subjects on natural ability. She was constantly under pressure though, cited as the first in her family to go to University – and a really good one at that. Truth be told though, she didn’t like schoolwork much. She just wanted to write.
She went straight from school to Oxford University, to study maths. She only lasted two terms, though, before she dropped out. She was too much of a daydreamer, and ran off at the offer of an adventure with an Australian bartender from her college, thereby following her brother’s example and slipping from her family’s radar. Predictably enough, the relationship didn’t last, and he dumped her a month after arriving in Sydney. She spent a week in a backpacker’s at the edge of the city before realising her savings were severely depleted, and spent what was left of them on a ticket to L.A., where her brother was last heard from.
Crash site: Tail end (Site 3)
Itinerary: A notebook; a pen with Tinkerbell on it; a long suffering IPod with dwindling battery.
Strengths and weaknesses: Lola is very, very good at maths. However, she has no common sense. This could prove a problem living alone on an island somewhere in the Pacific. She has trouble making new friends, but very much wants to, so it remains to be seen how well she’ll do with that…
Sample post: The sun was setting on the water, and it looked a though it belonged on a postcard. The tropical evening was balmy, warmer then many midsummer afternoons back home. As such, she was down to a vest top, but she couldn’t bring herself to change her trouser for something shorter. She wondered idly how long she’d stay stubborn before the heat forced her into a skirt.
She’d wanted an adventure, and it looked as though she was going to get one. In another idle thought, she remembered the structured, academic world of Oxford – or at least the few shorts months she’d been at the University. And again, memories of Brighton, and the unremarkable childhood, and her mum’s routines. Spending no more than an hour at the Pleasure Beach and being home by seven. It seemed a world away. It pretty much was. Tucking her feet under herself to sit cross legged, she mused on what her mum would be doing now. Both her kids had just taken off now – and everyone has always assumed that she would be the one to make something of herself, to take care of her mum as she grew old. They’d all given up on Tom years ago, and taken it as fact that he’d drift through life. She’d envied him that. Now that the expectations were gone, the claustrophobic pressure, she realised that she didn’t want to be the write off. Too late for that.
The plan had been the search for Tom in L.A. Not a brilliant plan, certainly, but she had to do something, and her options were limited. She couldn’t go home again, didn’t want to stay in Australia any more (she’s never forgotten the horror stories of spiders that hid in toilets, and it made her very uncomfortable), and she figured she could make some sort of life fro herself, even if she couldn’t find him. She’d always wanted to visit America. So she’d bought her ticket, and set off with nothing but a backpack of clothes, an old envelope with Tom’s address of three years ago, an IPod she couldn’t bear to part with no matter how scarce money was and a pan and paper. Now she was down to the last two. She hoped she could somehow find her clothes. Or that there was a generous stranger with the same clothes size as her nearby.
But, she reminded herself, shaking out of her sudden melancholy, she was on a bloody tropical island. Rescue would come eventually, she was sure, and she just had to enjoy the meantime. Perhaps this was what she needed, some evaluating time to consider the multitude of ways he’d messed things up and get some writing down. And this was definitely the place to get some inspiration, she decided, enjoying the last sunrays paint the horizon.