McIntyre, Ilandra

[ilandra mcintyre]

/ replacement of basic instrument capacity to service the year 1 options

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Ilandra Elysk McIntyre[/i][/u][/size][/center]

first glance «//

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+ they call me;; Ilandra Elysk McIntyre
+ but you should say;; Ilandra or whatever you can make her name into
+ make a wish;; April First
+ counting candles;; Twenty-Two (In three days)//Senior
+ beauty or beast;; Female
+ shot through the heart;; Straight as a pole
+ hit the books;;
Vocal Music / Theatre - Major && Musical Theatre – Minor Musical Theatre (I wasn’t sure whether you could only have one or two Majors)

skin deep «//

+ mane and tail;; Pale brownish…ish
+ windows to the soul;; Highlighted but mostly aubern
+ your epidermis is showing;; Caucasian - Welsh x Italian
+ this is why i'm hot;; Ah, starting at the top. Ilandra’s hair is long, seeing as she does rarely cut it. Reasons for this are unknown, she doesn’t cut it short anyway. She has it trimmed, but she never really likes to get it cut as in…cut. Short doesn’t suit her. So its long, but not ridiculously so, around to the centre of her back, and when its trimmed, just below her shoulder blades. As hair goes red it’s a pale redish-aubern colour. Nothing special its just a…redish-aubern. Highlights. Some of them, actually most of them, are fake. Some of them are natural, but not really natural in the sense of they’re now never grown out properly. They may look natural, but that is what money can do for you, if you chose to spend your cash on that. She doesn’t have a fringe as such, she never liked having one. She does, if you can count it as a fringe, a fringe, but its about the same length as the rest of her hair, so therefore doesn’t particularly count, or not in my book anyway. She had a fringe once when she was younger, but let it grow out. Usually she lets her hair down and leaves it down, but on occasions it can be up in a plait, pony-tail or bun. It depends how she feels in the mornings and if she’s going to go for a run or not. If she’s not really bothered when its left down. A very complex and complicated thing, hair.
Eyes are easy to do, since they take the least telling, even if they are said to be ‘the doorway to the soul’. Seeing as Iowyn doesn’t actually believe she has a soul, the point in immaterial. In any case, Iowyn’s eyes are brown. Bright brown, not the rather dull and boring browns that most people think of when they say brown. They’re bright and expressive if very mischievous and something most sane people steer well clear of. To be truthful they’re almost hazelnut, hazelnut nearer the centre towards the pupil, but the iris is a rather off changing of colour. I know, scary. Nearer the edge, like a fading firework, it’s a darker ring of brown. Edging further and further towards that dull brown of old bark. But never actually reaching it. It just sort of fades out and then stops otherwise the whole of her eye would be brown and that would really be rather disturbing. So it just changes from brown to white, as most do.
Pupils are obviously black, no colour, unless of course you count black as a colour. I’ve always counted black as absence of colour, or is that white. Black could be every colour mixed up, but it doesn’t particularly matter, they are black. Then again, the more detail you get into, you start sounding
Well, expensive is one word. She doesn’t show it off as much as she could, usually going around in jeans, skinny or flared, it doesn’t really matter to her. Its only clothing. She’s not exactly a trend setter, but she not really a trend follower either. Jeans are traditional, so she mostly lives in jeans. Nothing wrong with jeans, so she wears them. She’s not really one to ware skirts, although on occasion dresses aren’t unusual. She is rather strict about the tops she wares, though. It has to be the right sort of weather, right sort of year and just right. She’s also slightly obsessed with coats and jackets. A large collection of coats, jackets and just general over garments belong in her wardrobe. Not that she seems to mind much, keeps you warm in the chill as It were.
Ilandra's quite tall, 5-foot-10-inches to be exact. She's a very sporty character and quite muscular as girls go, but not rediculasly so. She doesn't really go in for the feminity value, but she won't forget it. She'll wear skirts and dresses and such, but usually only for special occasions. She's got long legs and really a long torso, she's long really. Not lanky but tall, there isn't really another word to descibe it.
+ alter egos;; Kiera Knightley

our story begins «//

+ thicker than water;; Abele Petrelli (Fifty Eight - Head of bussiness, married, Living in Bolonge) and Gwen Petrelli (nee Price, Fourty Seven, House Wife, Staying with family in Cardiff.)

Ilandra never got on with her parents. Not getting on with her parents is really an understatement. She detests her father for many reasons. Stating them would be like asking her to make a speech and she's not really one for speeches. Abele Petrelli, in most people's opinion, is a bastard. Gwen Petrelli is submissive. She doesn't seem to have a will of her own, something that Ilandra herself probably has too much of. She thinks of her mother as a push over and doesn't exactly approve. Again an understatement, but then again, Ilandra's just overly opinionated.

Antony Petrelli - Twenty Two - Unmarried Various Jobs - Living on the outskirts of New York.

The only sibling she has a vague liking of. Tony and her share the same thoughts on the rest of their family, and it is the one and only connection Ilandra will admit to. Tony and her travelled together long enough and know each other better than anyone. He would be the one she would give her health for. Yes, her health, maybe not her life. Unless if was the only option, Ilandra wouldn't give her life for anyone. Sad that, but true. But Tony would be the only family memeber that she really cares about.

Eleonora Petrelli - Twenty Five - Married - Living in Bolonge.

Too much like her mother and too traditional. Married young to someone that her parents chose. Something Ilandra ran away from and would never submit to in any case. She likes having her own opinion and her own choice and Eleonora didn't want that, and therefore stayed in Ilandra's bad books and never left.

Maurizio Petrelli - Twenty Three - Unmarried Works in Family Business - Living in Bolonge

He's just boring. Born, lived and works as a CEO in the Petrelli family business. I mean, seriously. How dull can he get. Ilandra never liked him and he never liked Ilandra. Probably more than her fathers dislike of her. He'd always been the handsome, original one of the family and then came along Ilandra. Mind of her own and in any case, he'd do anything to get her out of his life, even going to extremes. And that would be extremes for the Mafia, slightly different scale here.

+ motherland;; Bolsana, Italia, Italy, Europe, The World, Earth, Solar System, Milky Way, Just off the A40

lifting the veil«//

+ full of surprises;; CORRUPT
Ah, yes. Ilandra stopped caring at the age of twelve. She doesn’t care what people think of her and she doesn’t care about anything really…not in that sense in any case. She learnt from her father that the most important person in the world is yourself, and whatever the newspapers and people say, you are always right. It is like you are the customer and every one else is selling things. The customer is always right. She knows this and she’s not one to let go of what she believes. Whatever you say she can twist and whatever you mean she’ll take a different way. It’s hard to be careful around such a bitch, but you get used to it. She’s a good actress, if Iowyn. She has a way with words, but rarely uses it. She’s blunt, up front and doesn’t mind if you think she’s insulting you or complimenting you. It’s hard to tell with Iowyn. Usually she won’t do either, not her style. If she’s going to insult you, she’ll prefer to do it physically, through a slap. That’s just the way it is.

USED TO GETTING WHAT SHE WANTS
Oh very used. She doesn’t like to be left hanging, or in the dark or just anywhere. She likes to be in the front, up and with it. She doesn’t like to be behind the times, and therefore is usually the person to ask about just about anything. She’ll know it, and she won’t let on how. Mostly through the ability of not being seen. If you don’t want people to see you, you don’t let them, you can stand in plain view and they’ll pass you by. However, this only works when something else of interest is happening, but that doesn’t matter. When she doesn’t want to be seen is when something interesting is happening. Its like having a personal gossip magazine. She knows where people have been, why, where, how, what and when. But only outdoors, she’s not a stalker, she’s just in the right place at the right times. So obviously she can’t know everything, but the majority of what she does know is very useful.

MANIPLIATIVE
She has a way of making sure she’ll understand. She can change at the drop of a pin and then be exactly who you want to talk to. It’s as if she knows what you want. She did a three year course in psychology when she was at school and has a way of reading people. If you want someone quiet and attentive, she’ll listen and smile and be exactly who you want. Want to forget it, grab Iowyn and go out for a drink (or eleven). She’s not exactly a light weight when it comes to drinking. She’s just the one person who’s not an angel but can be. School drama lessons came in handy then?

CHANGES
It may be that she’s an evil, manipulative, corrupt, bitch, but she’s also scared. The Mafia aren’t exactly the sweetest, nicest people in the world, are they. She’s just hoping that tracing bank accounts hasn’t gotten as far as New York yet, or in Tony’s case, Wales. There was something off and she knows it. She’s worried, and has a right to be. Things don’t generally turn out well when you double cross someone who knows you well. So, alone she’s terrified of who’s actually going to come. In a group, she’s the life and soul of the party and most especially, the bill.

OBSERVANT
She watches as well as talks. She’s used to not being wanted so she watches body language and eyes. They tell you much more than anything else is going to. Mouths lie, usually eyes can’t, unless they’re one hell of an actor. She prefers to watch and wait before butting into a conversation, that doesn’t mean she won’t butt in, it usually just means she’ll wait ten minutes before butting in.

CON-ARTIST
Ah, yes. A confidence trickster. Gain the trust, swipe the wallet. She doesn’t do it anymore, doesn’t have to, rich enough as it is. But it was fun. You can still be a confidence trickster even if you don’t want to nick the targets wallet.

+ love them;;

• Psychology
• Athletics – very keen runner
• Getting away from her family – strong, strong interest
• Cookery – sometimes, but she doesn’t usually let on
• Morocco
• Running
• Finding the Answer
• Tony
• Money
• Her families bank account
• Dogs – family used to breed dogs

+ hate them;;

• Shoes – what they’re only footwear
• Barbie dolls – As in the real Barbie dolls and the human ones.
• Clothes shopping – absolutely loathes it
• Being cut off
• Law Enforcement.
• Cats – never really figured in her life, and they’re just boring
• Her family
• Things getting in her way

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it's history «//

+ epic worthy;; Now, before everyone gets confused. Ilandra legally changed her name when she was sixteen. She was Ilandra Petrelli, she is now Ilandra McIntyre Ilandra Petrelli, born to Abele and Gwen Petrelli seventeen years ago in Italy. The Petrellis were known in Italy as a side off family of the famous Italian Mafia, but then again, no-one actually promotes the fact they’re Mafia, do they. Unless they really want to get a bullet in the back of their head. So, no, she doesn’t promote the Mafia-ness.

Twenty six years ago, in Bolsana, Italy, two rival Mafia groups decided that what was really needed was not the constant Romeo and Juliet style fighting. It was as if they were actually playing out each scene of the play in real life…not nice. So the two heads of houses, Anthony Griggio and Maurizio Petrelli, made a pact. Anthony had a young son, only seventeen, whilst Maurizio had a daughter of sixteen: Abele and Gwen. Not exactly the hardest thing to understand what they did next.

Twenty five years ago, Eleonora Petrelli was born. A beautiful young Italian girl, dark hair and dark complexion. Another two years past until Maurizio Petrelli was born into the Petrelli business. This time it took six years for the next Petrelli to come, however, this time a surprise was awaiting them. Not only was Anthony, commonly known as Tony, born, but young Iowyn as well. Oddly, Ilandra was not given an Italian name as all of her siblings had, but a Welsh name. She’d been made something of an outcast by her family as she was a twin, and a younger twin at that. Four children wasn’t unusual, but it wasn’t usually wanted if there was a twin there. So mostly, Ilandra was left out, hopefully to be married to the first bloke that would walk the Petrelli’s way. And that was the Petrelli’s way. Eleonora was married at eighteen to Alonzo Alezzo. The two boys were supposed to chose for themselves, something of an old fashioned way that ILandra had never liked. She didn’t want a man chosen for her. She had her own free will.

Ilandra had stopped liking her family at the young age of eleven. She did, however, learn a few good tricks: such as how to access your fathers bank-account without him knowing, how to steal a credit card, how to shop lift without the cameras picking you up, how to get rid of enemies and people who just don’t live up to your standards. She could’ve written the book on dirty tricks if she’d really wanted to.

The Petrellis were all forced to learn at least three languages, two of them having to be English and Italian. Ilandra chose Welsh as her third, much to the annoyance of her family. What? It was more interesting and original than Spanish. She went on an exchange to England when she was twelve and after spent most of her time speaking English rather than Italian. Her brother was the same; Tony never particularly liked the family, as they treated him differently because he was male. But in any case, Iowyn and Tony spent most of their time away from the large mansion called the Autumn House that belonged to the Petrellis. Eleonora lived with her husband, so the Petrelli home was usually deserted. Abele lived at work on the ’business’ whilst Gwen spent most of her time out with her ‘friends’.

At Twenty, both Tony and Iowyn raided their father’s large bank account and redirected it. He could no longer take out money without one of their signatures and finger print. Then again, he probably had several other accounts in different banks. But it was still a great deal of enjoyment. They traveled mostly for about a year before Tony took a living to America. Ilandra, for some odd reason, didn’t want to spend her life always moving, so she decided to get some qualifications. Easiest way, schooling. She’d never been bad at school, on the contrary she was very intelligent. So, settling in New York, she chose a school with which to waste a lot of money that didn’t belong to her, but she knew she’d always have a supply somewhere. She started a year ahead, seeing as she'd already started the courses in Italy before she'd left. Right age, if slightly young. No-one really needs to know she's only Twenty-One for the next half week or so.

the puppeteer «//

+ name;; Jemma, or Popsicle, I’m not picky (Although I don’t mind of Great Ruler of the World, or Epsilon Ruler Of The World)
+ age;; Seven hundred and three
+ how you found us;; Mammoth Academy and the voices in my head
+ sample;; Hmmmmmm…do I have to?
Bright clouds rolled over the horizon. They were puffy and white, shining and every now and then covering the sun. The shadows below were lengthening as the day grew on. It wasn’t much passed mid-day, but it didn’t need to be. The sun’s golden rays still shone out and lit up the stable blocks below.
The stables below were painted a pale shade of beige. Not white, that would reflect the light and be painful to look at, but a calming shade of beige that you never needed to look at twice. The stable doors were painted either red or blue, depending on the gender of the horse. Each had a bed of shavings neatly brushed so that they covered the floor except for a foot and a half or so of bare ground underneath the water buckets and the hay-nets. The floors were grey, yet not painted. They were left bare to the stone floor.
The yard was also not painted, as it didn’t need to be. It was swept clean and was a darker shade of beige, more brown than beige. The yard led out onto a metre and a half wide track that led up to the fields. And the other side had a lane leading to the second stable-block and arenas. The fields led onto the small road that led to a wider and more used road and finally into the towns. It wasn’t that secluded, just out of the way. Just what the owner had wished when she’d found the derelict barns and abandoned fields.

Sharp footfalls clicked on the cobbles that led down from the fields. They boots didn’t have a very big heel, they were only yard boots. They just echoed around the stables. Hoof beats followed the footfalls. They were light and broke rhythm regally. Arianne’s light auburn hair flicked in the light breeze that played around the leader and pony. The pony wasn’t more than 12 hands high. He had a wide, light blaze across his features and his ears were permanently pricked forward. Each of his legs had a sock except for one hind leg that had a stocking. His white patches were slightly muddy from being in the field all night. Arianne always took the working horses in for a groom each morning. The foals, the elder ones, came in every two days, and the youngest stayed with her retired mare, Elder. Her youngest member of the stable, not yet 7 months, still had no name. She had been orphaned earlier in her life and had been born under difficult circumstances. She was a full bred Arabian filly with piebald markings. She’d taken to Elder very well and visa versa. Elder had been a brood mare and looked after many foals in her time.

Arianne led the Welsh Pony into his stable and took off his head collar. Being the greedy horse he was, he headed strait for his hay net and starting pulling it hungrily. Arianne smiled and closed the door, pushing the bolt across and kicking the kick bolt over. Joey had a nack for escaping under any circumstances. She hung up his halter and rope beside his stall and walked passed two other blue painted doors. One had a Friesian gelding called ArchAngel. He was generally known as Archie. Arianne walked passed his stall, holding out a handful of something she knew he’d like. His ears pricked up at once and he turned around in his stall and put his head over the door. He sniffed her hand and munched up what had been in it. Arianne gave him an affectionate pat and moved on to the stallion next to him. This was her pride and glory. Her champion. He was a tall, black stallion. The Hanoverian had his head over the door, his neck arched in a traditional dressage pose. Arianne smiled and slipped his a handful of something nice. He nickered softly as shook his head, his newly brushed mane going strait to the wrong side of his neck. Arianne gave him a pat on the muzzle before moving on.

The second stable block she visited had just two horses in. She looked like an exact replica of ArchAngel, except smaller. She was a fell foal. Her mane stuck up everywhere and in with her was another foal. These were her two eldest foals, Sammie and Poppy. Poppy was the fell, her coat shiny, if slightly scruffy. The other was a skewbald warmblood called Sammie. Poppy whinnied and swished her short tail. Sammie, who was already bigger and taller than Poppy, put his head over the door. He could over just reach and he looked like a disembodied head if you just glanced at him. Poppy, on the other hand, all you could see of her were her ears. Arianne lent over the door to give each of the foals a treat. They both munched it down with enthusiasm. Poppy shook her head and lay down in the soft bedding at the back of the stall. Sammie followed her and lay down beside her. Arianne smiled and walked out of the barn.

A bi-coloured blur whizzed passed her feet, almost tripping her up. The collie cross puppy bounded up to her and jumped up, planting two muddy paws on her thighs. Carrie was a boarder collie cross husky and made her extremely hyper. Arianne smiled and walked on, the collie cross bounding in front of her. She was going to bring in her youngest foal with Elder. She still hadn’t decided on a name for the poor filly, but something would come to her.

Carrie bounced into the field as Arianne stopped at the gate. Elder was standing about ten feet away, her head lowered to the ground. Beside her, her head raised to look around at Arianne, was the little piebald figure of her Arabian filly. She smiled and whistled. Elder’s head was raised up. She whinnied and turned, walking over to Arianne. The little filly pranced behind, she had a surefooted thing. She hadn’t tripped or stumbled once over the slightly uneven ground. Arianne opened the gate and started walking back. She called to Carrie, who bounced over, looking excited. The collie cross darted up to Arianne before moving on to the stables. Elder walked beside Arianne, her head moving in motion to her steps. With a swish of her little tail. The Arabian filly pattered up beside Elder, dancing in front of the mare who snorted softly, her long mane fluttering down.

Once in the yard, Arianne knelt down beside the filly, who whinnied and nudged her hand. So she was a brave lass, she didn’t seem nervous of Arianne at all, or of the new surroundings. Arianne stroked her muzzle as Elder moved over to the feed bucket Arianne had placed out for her. Joey and Seven stuck their heads over the door to see what was going on. The filly nickered softly before nudging Arianne’s hand.
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[nikki redmond]

Accepted, fool. Post on claims. Aaaand change her age or grade. If she's seventeen, she's probably a freshman, and if she's a senior, she's probably not seventeen.