SNOW, Thistle Kodiak Jan 27, 2014 13:44:55 GMT -5
Post by THISTLE KODIAK SNOW on Jan 27, 2014 13:44:55 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Face Claim: <Lorde>
OH, HAI THERE! I'M Thistle AND IT IS MY PLEASURE TO MEET YOU. I'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR Soo many years! SO I KNOW WHAT TO DO. YOU NEED TO TALK TO ME? HIT ME UP AT PM Me AND I'LL TRY TO GET BACK TO YOU.
FULL NAMEThistle Kodiak Snow
BIRTHDAY January 1st
Thistle has frequently been referred to as "petite" or "fun-sized". Her small frame does not lend itself to a chest and so she flounders at a B cup. Her thick, wild hair is a milk chocolate brown, complimenting her ice blue eyes and pale skin. This does give her a bit of a sickly look, which she makes up for with her personality.
Thistle is a big believer in wearing what's comfortable and, more importantly, clean. She can often be found wearing shorts with over-sized t-shirts or leggings and long sweaters.
She's comfortable with her body and has come to terms with its flaws. When people stare at the scarring that stretches across her right hip and down her thigh, she barely even notices anymore.
Taking long walks
Grooving to music, particularly punk or classic rock
Dungeons and Dragons
Flying. She hates planes.
Jocks, and most sports in general.
Ketchup or All Dressed chips
Good social manners - Very few people would ever call her socially awkward.
Consistently good grades - She's very bright and is great at memorizing facts.
Great climber - Years of climbing walls and trees has made her good at climbing in general.
Brews a fantastic cup of tea - She's not great at coffee, but she can brew some great tea.
Technologically challenged - She can figure out the basic functions of a cell phone, and has learned to browse the internet, but in general, technology fails around her.
Terrified of flying - She would rather take a boat or a train than fly. In fact, she refuses to ever get onto another plane.
Allergic to everything - Not really everything, but nuts, tomatoes, bell peppers, and ginger. She's only anaphylactic when it comes to nuts.
Brash Personality - She can be quite challenging to get along with,
"She's Thistle by name and by nature."
That's how she was always introduced. She can be hard to get along with at first. She has a sharp personality and a quick nature. She's not very good at making friends because of this, and if you hurt her she will never fully forgive you. She has a short temper, even after she gets close to people. But if you can put up with a couple weeks of her being prickly, you'll find that you have a friend for life.
Thistle cares about everyone she meets, although she won't show it until she also trusts them. She wants to do her best for everyone, despite the disappointment she has felt in the past. She wants to believe that there's good in everyone. She wants the world to get along.
Snow fluttered slowly from the heavens. In the parks and squares, people crowded, champagne overflowing from their glasses. They cheered and laughed. They were filled with so much hope and life. In a hospital bed a baby cried for the first time. Her mother held her close for a moment and then handed her to a nurse. That moment, 2 minutes after midnight, the lives of so many people changed. Thistle was born and promptly put up for adoption. Her mother would never leave that hospital. Three weeks later, the cancer would kill her. She'd rejected chemo for the sake of her baby.
A little girl stood on a dock and watched a sunset. At only 5 years old, Thistle was already displaying an understanding of the world. Her adopted mother, Abigail Snow, had always said she was a daughter of time itself. She was waiting for the night to come and prove her disappointment. It was not the first, and it would not be the last. Her biological father had found her the year before. He was an important man and, although he would promise to be there, he rarely showed up. The evening was approaching 8. He was supposed to be there by 6. She heard footsteps on the wood behind her. A moment later, she felt a hand on her shoulder. David Snow, her adopted father, had come to bring her back inside. Her father wasn't coming.
David had wanted to adopt a boy. However, when they visited the adoption agency they fell in love with Thistle. As a result, thistle spent most of her time climbing trees and playing catch. She was a tomboy. She wore her hair short and never saw a reason to wear dresses or skirts. They weren't her style. Thistle was happy as a boy, preferring to be called Kodi. Her friends were mostly boys. But she was 9 and that was still acceptable. Her parents worried about what would happen when she was older. She hadn't seen or heard from her biological father in over a year.
Thistle was 13 when her life ended. Or, more specifically, her life as she knew it. She'd never flown before, but now she was on her way to Disneyland. She was so excited, but nervous as well. Abigail had given her gum to chew while taking off and landing. It helped with her popped ears. She'd fallen asleep shortly after takeoff. She woke up because of the shaking. Only the emergency lights were on. The whole plane rattled. The child across the aisle was crying. She was so young. Thistle reached across to try to calm her. Lightning flashed outside the window. The storm hadn't been anticipated. The flight should've been fine. But the weather patterns had changed quickly. The plane shouldn't have gone down.
Neither Abigail, nor David, made it. For a few days, they didn't know if Thistle would make it either. She suffered third degree burns on her right leg and broke 14 bones. It was only her mothers body shielding her that saved her from most of the damage. She would be a ward of the state, yet again.
For the first time, her father decided he would be reliable. He came forward as her next of kin. He took her to his home. Finally, he tried to be a father to her. Thistle had lost her faith in him. She hadn't heard from him since she was 7. But she wanted to be a family. She wanted to make it work.
Sunlight fell across the cracked running track. The lines were faded and the chilly air seemed to keep the track empty. A lone figure stood on the centre lane. He wore dark jeans and a sweater. A black peacoat, undone, was draped over him, shielding him from the work. With his hands tucked into his pockets he stared down the track. Once upon a time he ran on a track like this.
Cheers erupted across the crowd as racers crossed the finish line. The bright Spring sun glared down on the contestants. Heat rolled in waves, washing over the swarms of people. Along the outskirts, ice cream and slushie trucks were making a killing; everyone wanted to keep cool.
None wanted to keep cool more than those approaching the starting line. A tall, slender boy was among them. His track shorts swished around his knees as he stepped forward. If he won this he would qualify for the nationals. He would be boosted from scrawny nobody to popular kid. He had to win.
He crouched at the line, matching the form of the other runners. A stiff breeze swept across the field offering a momentary comfort to the viewers.
The starting pistol went off. The boy pushed his weight into his legs and sprang forward. His shoe slipped for a moment but he regained his footing. The roar of the crowd was replaced by the blood pumping in his ears. The track was solid under his feet. Each step taking him closer to the other runners. Soon he had caught up to them. They passed from his vision.
A burning sensation flashed into his calves. He ground his teeth against the pain and pushed himself harder. He had to keep on going. It was his first time doing the 800 metre. He hadn't even practiced it. He could hear someone's footsteps pounding behind him. They were close. Too close. He needed to get this.
The finish line was before him. He could see the other runner in his peripheral vision. He forced himself harder. He knew he passed the line first. A camera shot proved it. He was going to Nationals.
But he never did go to Nationals. He never ran again.
Now, staring down the track, he could hear the crowds again. He could hear the yelling; the cheering. His heart thumped in his chest.
Jonah put his hand up to his face, wiping it across like he could wipe the memories from his mind. But he never could.
Read more: everybodytalksv1.proboards.com/thread/3988/ran-track-open?page=1&scrollTo=12623#ixzz2rcrse8lk