ADD

[dariana]

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About You - -

Name: Skarletta, Skar, Letty, Letta, Skarly…you get my drift.
Gender: femme fatale
Age: Old enough (;
Years of RPG Experience: A loooot. More than three years, I believe.
Other: I love ISS!1!!!111!!! OH YESSS!1!!!11!! –catch my drift?

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Quick Quiz - -

How did you find us? I got lucky.
What about ISS inspired you to join? The peeps.
Do you have any suggestions for us? I’ve said it before: get new admins (;

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About the Character- -

Name: A. Dariana Drake
Age: Sixteen going on seventeen in a couple of weeks.
Gender: Female
Year: Fifth bumped to sixth soon enough
Face Claim: Jessica Stam

Canon or Original? Canon –coughs- Original

Facial Properties:
She’s got vibrant blue eyes and cupid bow lips. A button nose completes the look of a very dreamy girl. Whether it’s real or chemically induced, well, that’s to be discovered later on. Her eyebrows display her natural hair color to perfection, no matter how many times she dyes it, and her cheekbones are somewhat lost against the contrast of her chin and oval face. She’s got two moles on her left cheek that are easily lost between as her hair frames her face most of the time, and when she smiles, the room used to light up once upon a time. Now, it’s just a forced expression that doesn’t really feel right unless she’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. She’s got a forehead that slopes up to her naturally brunette hair, and ears that never stand out much. All in all, Dariana wouldn’t really be remarkable if you excluded her eyes, her lips and her nose…which means she’s very privileged indeed.

Physique:
Tall, tall, tall, tall. Taller than what you’ll ever be, probably. Even if she’s paired up with some of the best Quidditch players, it’s obvious that Dariana sticks out. Not only is she a year too old to be with her classmates, but on top of that, she looks older than them. Mainly because of her height. She’s certainly not voluptuous or curvy—which is one of the most particular traits of women as they grow older. Au contraire, Dariana is quite the stick figure, and she’s content to be that way. Not working out means that she’s got no condition, but she prefers being thin than being fat. And fat nowadays is such a borderline precaution. You never know when you’ve crossed the line. Of course, Dariana’s weight fluctuates between her morbid fascination of watching her body’s symptoms of withdrawal from lack of food, and the sudden attack of her sweet tooth. When it strikes, it strikes with a vengeance. But even then, she only gains a couple of pounds before she’s back to normal. Or as normal as Dariana could ever be. She’s got thin wrists, thin ankles, thin arms and thin legs. She’s got a slender and long neck too, which makes up for the lack of grace she displays when she’s absolutely trashed. But that’s not a side of her that you will see often. Her collarbone is more prominent on certain positions than others, but all in all, it’s always obvious, especially with the kind of clothing Dariana makes a habit of wearing. She likes feeling tiny, so she makes it a habit to wear oversized sweaters and t-shirts. When she’s not wearing such, she’s stylish or raggedy.

You just can never know.

Personality:
To say she’s not your ordinary girl would probably be a big understatement. To say it’s all due to drugs isn’t the right thing to say either. See, Dariana is a girl. A girl who thinks she knows what she wants out of life and gets it easily and without complications. Because she’s got no huge expectations, and she doesn’t wish for the entire world. As much as her head is up in the clouds, there’s a realistic quality about our girl here that keeps her motives solidly grounded. What does that mean? Oh, it could mean a lot of things. Especially if it’s Dariana we’re talking about here. Eccentric wouldn’t quite be the word to describe her, though there are a lot of people who have her pegged as such. After all, her random attires and nondescript moods really are a usual trigger for that adjective. But that’s not all there’s to her. Cheesy catch phrases do have a deeper meaning after all, because truly, Dariana is more than what meets the eye. First impressions are not her forte when you dress either in raggedy clothes or oversized sweatshirts and leggings. Much less when you have a suspicious glaze to your eyes and the first thing that leaves your mouth is to ‘move the hell out of my way’.

Sweet, she is not.

But don’t be fooled by that exterior either. If you are quick to judge, you may never make it. Not only into her tight knit posse, but also in the world. Because, see, Dariana is the world. With her chameleonic persona and her rapidly deteriorating moods, Dariana is every nasty person you could ever encounter in your life all rolled into one. One day she is the cheerful extrovert, and the next she can be your sulky artist. Friends? That word doesn’t really exist in her vocabulary. No, if you must really look for a point blank word for her, hypocritical’s it. Not only is she quick to judge and peg, but she’s also her own worst nightmare. She has every trait she despises, except perhaps being overly sentimental, and she knows it. Dariana plays out her worst flaws upon first glance. You could say that maybe that’s her forte. Because you’ll never find yourself playing charades with Dariana. If she’s different one day from the previous one, it’s not because she’s pretending to be someone she isn’t, but because that day, she is that person. It’s not about fitting in. It’s about not fitting in and to acquiesce to her own needs.

Temperamental and sometimes brusque, there are few qualities to Dariana that can be deemed permanent. The former being two of them. No matter in what kind of mood she is in, it can quickly spiral out of control if things aren’t just right. What is right? Who knows? Dariana considers herself a free agent, to come and do as she pleases whenever she pleases just because she pleases. Peeves is her nemesis because he’s her archetype, and among many other things, the one thing she can never walk straight through. If you’re relevant in society or within Hogwarts’ walls, chances are that you are highly ignored in Dariana’s alternative universe. That is, if you even exist at all. To Dariana, the irrelevant and the inconsequential present the highlights of her daily life. The little details that everybody takes for granted intrigue her for hours, and the shape of the clouds could never be more interesting to anyone other than her. Time, as is colloquially known to everyone is static for Dariana. An hour may well be a second, and the reverse as it transpires in her state. Days are definitely not her forte. Not that anything really is, but if there was something Dariana is convinced she was born for is the night. Insomnia can do that to you. Whether it’s natural or because of her permanent high, no one will ever know.

Being an addict to almost every single chemical known to wizardkind has to have its quirks after all. Caffeine is her savior, and she sure clings to it as if it truly were. Nicotine goes hand in hand with that, because there’s nothing better than smoky breath and the feel of the smoke coursing through your lungs. Add to that her meds and her rainbow pills and her potions to ‘sleep’ contraindicated by the caffeine and you’ve got yourself a stupor that Dariana knows better than anyone else. It’s not about being dependant of them. It’s more about the fact that Dariana does what she wants, health and ozone layers be damned. If you’re looking for someone that can stick up for herself, get her thrills out of intrinsically weaved plots and the iron will of the bars of Azkaban Prison, Dariana’s your go-to girl.

Being normal has never been in Dariana’s plans, which is fine and dandy considering she would never manage to perfect the art. Her hair is always different, and thanks to magic and the oh-so glorious Muggle invention of wigs, the length varies too from time to time. Dariana is all for being an individual and expressing your beliefs. She’s all about being and living in the moment, no consequences and no guilt. She’s the type of girl that is reckless and would probably drive herself insane just because she can. She doesn’t have anything to prove to the world other than she’s out there, and beware, because she’s looking to impact. There’s a morbid-quality to her sense of existence, though. Something not many can really compare. Since there’s nothing to live for other than herself, then there’s everything to die for. If that consists of borderline insanity, then so be it. Insanity means inside of sanity for so many people. Dariana gets her personal thrills from so many things that involve only herself. People don’t react too well when they are involved in dangerous things without their consent, and she learned this earlier on in life. If you’re going to toy with something that’s delicate according to society, then just try it out on yourself. Push yourself to the limits and see what you come back with. Can’t be worse than what you were in to begin with, right? Thus, Dariana’s morbid toying of herself between life and death ensues from time to time. She allows herself to slowly starve for a short period of time before she decides that being weak is not all that spazzed out as it is to be, and then there are times when she just…exists.

No matter how hard you try, you will never get Dariana to truly be there. To honestly say that she’s focusing on you and solely on you. Or any situation. She’s always in her mind, brilliant colors and blinding lights inhabiting her thoughts and intoxicating smells clogging her dorm. Incense is just like her, she once said. Because they can both extinguish themselves whenever they feel like it. Just like an incense stick…it putters out for no real reason other than it wants to. Unintentionally philosophical, Dariana’s existence theories come better worded when she’s stoned straight out of her mind. Which is one of the main reasons her words can sound so profound when they…aren’t.

She likes shiny things just like any kid likes his or her new toy, and she loves feeling the thrill of a new relationship. But everything gets dull after a while, and nothing is everlasting. She accepts this and moves on rather easily. Clothes. Random, extraordinary pieces of clothing are her favorite. Simple things that a lot of people would consider trash, she wears them fervently for sometimes weeks before discarding them herself. There’s nothing solid about Dariana Drake. She just is, and some people have trouble accepting that.

Tough them.

Likes:
+ Cigarrettes
+ Quartz
+ Clocks
+ Nighttime
+ Owls
+ Being buzzed
+ Dyeing her hair different colors
+ Heavy makeup
+ Coffee
+ Kaleidoscopes
+ Rainbows
+ Haute couture
+ Reincarnation
+ Dream catchers
+ Incense
+ Dyed t-shirts
+ Long, bony fingers
+ High heels
+ Ratty clothes
+ All kinds of music
+ Necklaces, bracelets, rings, ankle bracelets, et al.
+ Playing the piano
+ Smoky breath
+ Tattoos
+ The smell of recently-brewed coffee
+ Vanilla
+ Apple pie
+ Feathers
+ Cinnamon
+ Ginseng bubble gum
+ Jagged glass
+ Wine cups
+ Peach juice
+ Long scarves
+ Jackets of any type
+ Thrift stores
+ Pictures
+ Old books
+ Leather bound books
+ Blank journals
+ Freckles

Dislikes:
– Guitar
– School
– People with a ridiculous sense of self-entitlement, mainly authority figures
– Sleeping
– Bright, early mornings
– The heat
– Plain people
– Creaky muscles
– Piña coladas
– Alcohol in general, but she still drinks it anyway
– Chocolate
– Pumpkin pie
– Short shorts—they make her ankles look swollen
– Having to pick pockets for the extra change
– Holes in her pockets
– Cooking
– Doing laundry
– Body odor
– Physical pain
– Working out
– Vegetables
– Loud obnoxious people, even if she is one of them quite constantly.
– Bright flashes of cameras
– Crying kids
– Sweating
– Rude people
– Gossip
– Dogs
– Cats
– Hoop earrings
– The sea, or big bodies of water
– People asking her if she’s high/stoned
– People talking to her when it’s uncalled
– Stupid people
– Poor people
– Feeling hungover—albeit it doesn’t happen often
– Being sick
– Throwing up
– Feeling winded
– Overly-sensitive people
– The color brown
– Her sister
– Cleaning
– Not finding stuff
– People nosing around in her stuff
– Useless people
– Feeling normal

History:

Normal stories start at the beginning. Normal stories begin with the birth of a child, and from then on, history is being written. Normal stories have a father and a mother, and a happy family, or the polar opposite: a huge tragedy that affects someone’s life forever and ever. Normal stories tell how a child grew up and how he or she developed. Normal stories tell of falling in love and heartbreak. Normal stories are so well-known and so awkwardly developed that you can’t help but identify with them. After all, normal is accepted by society, and who are we to defy it? Normal stories are just that: normal.

Normal’s got nothing on Dariana Drake.

We can’t really begin at her beginning, so why not start at the middle, where Dariana’s life really started? Or the end as we know it, because the rest hasn’t been lived yet? Let’s start by stating the obvious and the relevant, much to Dariana’s chagrin, considering she lives by the irrelevancies of life and the loopholes that make life so much easier for her. She’s sixteen going on seventeen in a few days, and she’s in fifth year. Why, if she’s so older than the regulars, you may ask? Ah, we will get to that. All in its due time. You must be patient, because, see, Dariana doesn’t like impatient people, even if it’s one of her most prominent characteristics. A hypocritical witch that now studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A not so recent transfer of Salem’s Institute, Dariana still hasn’t gotten used to all the different accents and the different way the Professors treat their students here. To her, she transferred just yesterday, and everything is still brand new. Time is of no sense and relevance to her, since nights are endless, and days are spent in a daze and haze that many people would deem a drug-induced stupor. And who is she to contradict them? After all, they always know better than her.

Opinions, opinions, opinions. By now, Dariana is tired of that. Everyone has an opinion about everything. Back home things were always like that, and once upon a time it bothered her enough to actually get her to throw rabid fits. Or when an opinion wasn’t exactly favorable, it was sufficient to spiral her into depression with no certain reason. Dariana was the kind of girl who didn’t believe what other people said, but it still affected her in some way. Or maybe everything just affected her, period. Whether people had anything to do about it is still questionable—but we shall digress. Random bursts of joy would sometimes highlight her week, but as quickly as they came, they left. Nothing is ever permanent with her. Not her hair color, not her moods, not her attitude, and most importantly, not her persona. No, it’s not about some deeply rooted childhood trauma, and it’s not about how her family fell apart. Last thing she knew, they were still living happily in Podunk, NoWhere. Family has nothing to do with how she turns out. Dariana just doesn’t care. Never has and probably never will. But then again, she cares too much.

“Since when is she like this?” you may ask, but the answer can never be concrete. Some will tell you that it’s just a recent development, others will just say that she’s always been the freak, so you shouldn’t worry about that, but truth…what is truth? Dariana says there’s always something innately strange in a person that is waiting to be uncovered by the appropriate person, and be unleashed to the world. The reality of everybody, that ironically everybody tries to avoid. In her case, she just discovered this strangeness earlier on in her life, and instead of ignoring it and spending her days trying to pretend it wasn’t there, she embraced it full-heartedly. Her ‘uncovered strangeness’ only has one name, though, no matter how much she would adore to prove you wrong, she just can’t: DeeDee. What, no last name? Oh, don’t be surprised. Half of the people Dariana hangs out with have no last names, which is probably one of the main reasons Dariana has taken to introducing herself simply as D—or perhaps she’s just projecting the missing part of her life. DeeDee came into Dariana’s life when she was eleven years old, and nobody thought she would ever leave. Dariana’s family certainly didn’t. DeeDee and Dariana, always attached at the hip, people would say.

DeeDee, that blonde girl that was four years older than Dariana and taught her everything she knew. DeeDee that strangely dressed girl that had tights with holes on them and wore too-big glasses that she didn’t need. DeeDee the fifteen year old who thought she was a born psychiatrist—who needs to study for an innate talent?—and saw stars on the battered streets of the neighborhood. DeeDee, the girl who adamantly diagnosed Dariana with bipolar affective disorder when she had only known her for two days and ‘prescribed’ her meds that would make everything just fine. After all, eleven year olds shouldn’t have such angry fits and tantrums. It just wasn’t normal. And meds they were. There were a thousand pills a day—or so it seemed. Of every size, any color you wanted…DeeDee had them all, and since DeeDee always was a strong believer of ‘sharing is caring’, what DeeDee said, Dariana did. Her original light brunette locks soon went lighter and lighter, until they matched DeeDee’s awkward shade hair by hair. DeeDee didn’t ‘do’ days, so the purple bags underneath Dariana’s eyes were ignored—and as far as she was concerned, absolutely justified. Nights were when things happened. DeeDee said so, and it was proven time and time again. Nights had the action, the terror, the breathtaking suspense, the thrills, the passion…Nights had it all.

It didn’t take long for Dariana’s health to deteriorate and be in the exact shape DeeDee was, which would’ve made Dariana so happy…if she hadn’t been stoned out of her mind. The two best friends, who lied, cheated and stole from one another. DeeDee more than Dariana at first, because she had no qualms about snogging Dariana’s boyfriends, or taking her money from her. But even then, Dariana could only nod and accept everything DeeDee said as the holy truth. Because while DeeDee saw stars on the streets, Dariana had stars in her eyes as her new best friend swooped into her life and changed every single erroneous perspective and preconceived notion she had ever had. DeeDee was her savior. Her eye-opener. The one who discovered her strangeness and brought it out to the world. The one who turned her into an individual instead of a collective follower of the masses. So when she disappeared one day as suddenly as she had appeared, everyone was shocked. Dariana only noticed her appearance after her steady supply of meds was cut off, and then, her blue eyes widened and she gasped.

There was no black abyss in her life now because her most beloved friend was gone. DeeDee was a good picture in her mind, but it just couldn’t compare. There was just anxiety. Not a memorable time, if you ask Dariana. If she had ever doubted she was bipolar, it was now more than proved. One day without her meds, and the violent mood swings returned, except they were increased tenfold. Oh, she wasn’t in denial. She knew that the fact that she couldn’t live without her pills meant she was an addict, but meds were needed in her life now. Meds of all sizes, flavors, colors and effects. They’re just meds. Meds, meds, meds, meds. Maybe if we keep repeating it, she’ll believe it.

Like I said, family is irrelevant at this point, and while Dariana loves irrelevancies, this might be her exception to her rule. What isn’t worth mentioning shouldn’t be mentioned, so of course her absence from home for days on end, and the initial worry of her parents that soon faded into resignation and then absolute nonchalance isn’t worth the trouble, or the words, or the parchment. Her curious detachment from the people that were with her those first eleven years of her life is everlasting. There will be no sudden resurgence of long-lost love to the woman who gave birth to her, and most certainly there will be no tears shed over the girl that’s supposed to be her twin. And her dad? What’s with her dad? Her first years of life as a witch don’t matter, because they are inconsequential. They’re just a bland splotch on an otherwise colorful canvas—which she plans to keep on splotching on. Life for Dariana doesn’t count until after DeeDee came and left, leaving behind her this trail of exuberance and raw passion that not many can equal. Family doesn’t matter. Personal ties don’t matter. People come and people go. Especially in Dariana’s life, where she spends the majority of her time alternating between keeping herself upright in a dark alley and walking down the corridors of school with that very recognizable glazed look in her eyes. Of course that doesn’t matter. What matters are the colors and explosions of brilliance Dariana sees behind her eyes every day—or night—as she lives on her reckless life. The beating of the music thrumming within her veins, and everything is just fine, because her stream of pills had been reinstated by Germs, and then by Banda, and then by Shirley, and then—it doesn’t matter. And the world is running its course on its axis.

Failing one year at Salem’s also has no sense, because surely it can’t be that important if she was able to fix it with a forged owl to the headmistress? She learned everything she could ever learn from DeeDee, and Dariana will never forget that. Why she even bothered to forge an owl to the headmistress, she will never know, but there are some things you will never get an answer to. That’s what Dariana says. And DeeDee’s not here anymore, so what Dariana says, it goes…right?

Sample Post: raincheck on that, yus?

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And Finally - -

I, SKARLETTA!, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.

[Professor Albus Dumbledore]

Like OMGZ no WAY, I love ISS, too!!!!1!!!1111!!!!!!!1!

After a long discussion it has been decided:

Slytherin !

``IZZY