Post by Gala Levinlaw on May 18, 2020 21:04:33 GMT
Name: Gala Levinlaw
Age: 33
Faction: Avalanche
Weapon: Staff
Appearance:
Gala's got a wild, provoking quality that makes her hard to miss in a crowd. Her mannerisms have a certain yankee-like lean; Overly casual but not hesitating to bear her teeth at anyone who chances too close. Her clothing is sturdy but old, with dirt at her hems and patchwork fixings. You're more likely to hear Gala before you see her as she's possessed of a laugh like an earthquake and each time she does her crow's feet crinkle around her eyes. Despite her big personality Gala's not very tall and only stands at around five foot five. Her skin is brown, her hair is rosy pink, and her eyes a curious shade of periwinkle.
About:
What is there to know about Gala Levinlaw? There are no houses in the Levinlaw name and no phone bills, just a couple of fake names signed into motel books and blurry security camera footage. There is a blank space where Gala ought to be, forged by thirty three years of unrelenting vigilance for her own privacy—for her right to that privacy.
There had barely been enough time for her to be a child. Being a Cetra has become a hot commodity and her family knew better than to dilly dally with a little girl long enough for Shin-Ra to know she existed. When Gala thinks back on her life there was no grand realization that she had been different or any defining tragedy that propelled her to move. Rather, it was as if everyone carried out their lives in Midgar and she could only watch in rapt, horrified fascination as her mother pulled her ever onward by the hand.
People don’t often think about how easy a child can acclimate to the stress of the run, and though Gala suffers her own traumas and idiosyncrasies it’s always been her version of normal. She can remember being a gum chewing tween, kicking her feet off the hood of her grandmother’s old tin can car, reading fashion magazines and unsuccessfully hiding whatever piercing she had DIY’d that week. For a long time she wanted to run away to the city and have a go at being normal but her family had a vested interest in passing their traditions down to her. In between her homeschooling—a bit of propriety on part of her mother, who would see her off the grid but wouldn’t see her illiterate—Gala got taught how to plant crops and find north, how to evade wildlife attacks and what to do in a landslide, how to lie and how to forge a signature, but most importantly: how to keep her head down near men in black suits.
For a long time she felt more nomadic than she felt chased. But then, slowly and insidiously, it became harder and harder to sprint out from Shin-Ra tower’s ever growing shadow. It was her father who first went missing back when Gala was eleven, hauled into the back of a truck and never seen again. It all happened so fast, she can’t remember much more than her father’s blue flannel left in a wrinkled heap on the side of the road.
And so it was that one by one, Gala watched her family vanish around her. It was her grandmother that stuck it out the longest, too clever for crooks even in her old age. She lived till Gala was seventeen—taught her what she could of magic, how to heal a wound and how to make the flowers grow—and for that she couldn’t be more grateful. Fraught as it was, Gala Levinlaw did have a childhood raised in the constancy of her grandmother’s care.
Since then her life has been more of the same but with less witnesses and more trees. Gala was taught to run and so she continued to run, simple as that. For nearly a decade she’s convinced herself that she can be content, that she's ancient, and that she’s possessed of a need to be nomadic. Yet, there’s a difference between running and traveling, isn’t there? As Gala watches her life slip through her fingers she’s realized that she’ll no doubt die running. For every grove she tends and home she builds, for every blurry photograph and every receipt in her pocket, Shin-Ra will always be able to find her.
How does she live knowing that she won’t ever be free? Where is she meant to go if there’s no treaty to be had or deal to be struck? What’s a woman to do when her cries for peace fall on deaf ears? Commit acts of wild and violent rebellion, obviously! Gala’s headed to Midgar, where she intends to take the fight right to Shin-Ra’s doorstep.
TL;DR Family of ancient, nomadic hippies try to escape The Man. Failure ensues. Gala lives off the grid for a while and struggles with whether she’ll continue her lifestyle or become an eco-terrorist. Becomes an eco-terrorist.
Archetype: Magic Tier 3
Special Features:
Ability: Commune (Passive)
Gala is able to communicate with living things on a basic level. I.e. she can implicitly speak any language spoken to her and also communicate the vague concept of bread to pigeons.
OOC Alias: hushghosts
Age: 33
Faction: Avalanche
Weapon: Staff
Appearance:
Gala's got a wild, provoking quality that makes her hard to miss in a crowd. Her mannerisms have a certain yankee-like lean; Overly casual but not hesitating to bear her teeth at anyone who chances too close. Her clothing is sturdy but old, with dirt at her hems and patchwork fixings. You're more likely to hear Gala before you see her as she's possessed of a laugh like an earthquake and each time she does her crow's feet crinkle around her eyes. Despite her big personality Gala's not very tall and only stands at around five foot five. Her skin is brown, her hair is rosy pink, and her eyes a curious shade of periwinkle.
About:
What is there to know about Gala Levinlaw? There are no houses in the Levinlaw name and no phone bills, just a couple of fake names signed into motel books and blurry security camera footage. There is a blank space where Gala ought to be, forged by thirty three years of unrelenting vigilance for her own privacy—for her right to that privacy.
There had barely been enough time for her to be a child. Being a Cetra has become a hot commodity and her family knew better than to dilly dally with a little girl long enough for Shin-Ra to know she existed. When Gala thinks back on her life there was no grand realization that she had been different or any defining tragedy that propelled her to move. Rather, it was as if everyone carried out their lives in Midgar and she could only watch in rapt, horrified fascination as her mother pulled her ever onward by the hand.
People don’t often think about how easy a child can acclimate to the stress of the run, and though Gala suffers her own traumas and idiosyncrasies it’s always been her version of normal. She can remember being a gum chewing tween, kicking her feet off the hood of her grandmother’s old tin can car, reading fashion magazines and unsuccessfully hiding whatever piercing she had DIY’d that week. For a long time she wanted to run away to the city and have a go at being normal but her family had a vested interest in passing their traditions down to her. In between her homeschooling—a bit of propriety on part of her mother, who would see her off the grid but wouldn’t see her illiterate—Gala got taught how to plant crops and find north, how to evade wildlife attacks and what to do in a landslide, how to lie and how to forge a signature, but most importantly: how to keep her head down near men in black suits.
For a long time she felt more nomadic than she felt chased. But then, slowly and insidiously, it became harder and harder to sprint out from Shin-Ra tower’s ever growing shadow. It was her father who first went missing back when Gala was eleven, hauled into the back of a truck and never seen again. It all happened so fast, she can’t remember much more than her father’s blue flannel left in a wrinkled heap on the side of the road.
And so it was that one by one, Gala watched her family vanish around her. It was her grandmother that stuck it out the longest, too clever for crooks even in her old age. She lived till Gala was seventeen—taught her what she could of magic, how to heal a wound and how to make the flowers grow—and for that she couldn’t be more grateful. Fraught as it was, Gala Levinlaw did have a childhood raised in the constancy of her grandmother’s care.
Since then her life has been more of the same but with less witnesses and more trees. Gala was taught to run and so she continued to run, simple as that. For nearly a decade she’s convinced herself that she can be content, that she's ancient, and that she’s possessed of a need to be nomadic. Yet, there’s a difference between running and traveling, isn’t there? As Gala watches her life slip through her fingers she’s realized that she’ll no doubt die running. For every grove she tends and home she builds, for every blurry photograph and every receipt in her pocket, Shin-Ra will always be able to find her.
How does she live knowing that she won’t ever be free? Where is she meant to go if there’s no treaty to be had or deal to be struck? What’s a woman to do when her cries for peace fall on deaf ears? Commit acts of wild and violent rebellion, obviously! Gala’s headed to Midgar, where she intends to take the fight right to Shin-Ra’s doorstep.
TL;DR Family of ancient, nomadic hippies try to escape The Man. Failure ensues. Gala lives off the grid for a while and struggles with whether she’ll continue her lifestyle or become an eco-terrorist. Becomes an eco-terrorist.
Archetype: Magic Tier 3
Special Features:
Ability: Commune (Passive)
Gala is able to communicate with living things on a basic level. I.e. she can implicitly speak any language spoken to her and also communicate the vague concept of bread to pigeons.
OOC Alias: hushghosts
