HOLMES, ivory victoria

[Ivory Victoria Holmes]

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• DEAD OR ALIVE •

ivory victoria holmes

"this could mean everything or nothing at all"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]NAME • Ivory Victoria Holmes
NICKNAME • Ivy; but not to you
AGE • Twenty two
GENDER • Female
SEXUALITY • Straight--or so she thinks(;
OCCUPATION • Officer
CLASS • Middle, but richer than most
FACE CLAIM • Astrid Berges-Frisbey

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"Hand upon a deadman's gun, and you're looking down the sights,"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]APPEARANCE •

Ivy is what you would call a traditional beauty. Dark, russet waves that appear endless, a heart shaped face with full lips, and green eyes outlined with dark lashes, she can certainly turn most heads. Standing at 5'9, Ivy is tall, and having such an athletic body due to her profession, you wouldn't see an inch of flab on her porcelain skin. Her mannerisms are quaint, and she usually twirls her hair with her finger, and looks at you with wide, curious eyes, that make her seem innocent and naive. Of course, looks can be deceiving.

She can't stay one second without fidgeting, and since she was small, she's always been doing something; whether it's twirling the hair, biting the lip, tapping against the walls. Anything, as long as it keeps her preoccupied. Usually, she keeps her heart on her sleeve, and she's easy to read and she doesn't hide how she feels. However, when on the job, she knows how to keep a straight face--doesn't mean she likes it.

Ivy has a lean, muscled build, and although she doesn't seem like it, she can put up one hell of a fight. Appearance conscious, she's determined to look good whilst kicking your ass, and she always keeps a small mirror with her wherever she goes. Saying that, she isn't vain; she just likes to keep clean and nice. When on the job, she wears her uniform, but other than that, she likes to wear dresses, but nothing too suffocating.

EYE COLOR • Pale green
HEIGHT • 5'9
WEIGHT • 120 pounds
BUILD • Lean but muscled; an athletic build
SCARS? • None
UNIQUE CHARACTERISTIC • Her eyes and her smile are just alluring

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"Your heart is worn, and the seams are torn,"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]PERSONALITY •

First thing, don't call her Ivy if you've just met her. Call her Ivory. Otherwise, she will kick your ass, and you can bet not one hair will fall out of place as she does it. She doesn't like it when strangers call her by her nickname, and you have to earn the right to call her Ivy. That's a privilege for friends, only. So don't get arrogant and skip out the Ivory phase of the relationship.

Although guarded at first, Ivy will ease up quickly, if she deems you nice enough to hang around with. If you're one of those cocky, annoying girls who bitch at you for no reason, she'll will see no harm in bitching right back, and yes, maybe arresting you just for pissing her off. She hates it when people judge by appearance, or when people use violence to get what they want. Ivy's fun to be with, as she doesn't like wasting a day doing nothing amusing. She's not the kind of people who'll hate for no reason or reject you without even knowing you. She'll give everyone a chance, and trust everyone she meets, which leaves her vulnerable to get hurt. But, she learns from her mistakes. Once people cross her, she'll never leave her trust in their hands again.

Even though she's beautiful, and gets plenty of attention from men, Ivy has, and probably always will be, been innocent in that department. Her mother died when she was little, and no one was around to properly explain it all to her. So, at the age of 22, she's never been kissed, and doesn't quite fully understand the meaning of love. Everyone say aw.

Ivy has a tendency to be sarcastic, and likes to see how far she can push people, but she means well. Although saying that, she knows when to turn it down, and when to apologize. Sometimes.

Give her a reason, and she will deem you her enemy. But it would have to be a good ass reason. Ivy believes that hating people and spending your time picking fights with them every time you meet a waste of time, and she would much rather do something else fun. She's quite a laid back person, and a few insults won't piss her off. But tick all her boxes, and you'll wake up in jail.

LIKES •

appearance; She can't quite explain it. There's nothing quite like getting that perfect color of lipstick, or managing to create your perfect hairstyle. It's the best feeling in the world.

horses; Did you say a dog was man's best friend? Please. Say hello to Stranger.

sarcasm; How could you live without it. Ivy likes to use sarcasm to get her point across, and her humor is mostly that.

people that make her laugh; Annoyingly, they're hard to come by lately. Ivy prefers to live life laughing, and she refuses to be with people who can't crack a joke.

DISLIKES •

liars; If you can't tell the truth, then get the fuck out. Please and thank you.

gangs; They make her job a hassle, and she just can't understand why they do such things. It's just inhumane.

fighting; Even though she's skilled at it, she still doesn't like doing it. Sure she'll threaten to beat you when you piss her off, but you have to be really annoying in order for her to lay a hand on you.

anger; It's an ugly emotion, and she tries her hardest to stay away from it.

WEAKNESSES •

oblivious; Hopelessly, to a certain extent. On some things, she's straight on the point, but on others, she can be so naive, it's infuriating.

stubborn; Once she sets her mind to something, it takes a lot for her to change her mind. Whether it's on what she wants to do the next day, or how she feels about a certain person, it doesn't matter. She's stubborn to a fault.

vulnerable; Her need to give everyone at least one chance put her in a vulnerable situation, and people could take advantage of that.

STRENGTHS •

fighter; Coming from a family of officers, she was taught from a young age how to defend herself, and she's spent her life honing her skills to perfection.

righteous; She lives by the law, and ignoring all the sarcasm and the teasing, Ivy is a good person. She tries to help most people who need it, and she has a strong sense of justice that's there since she was born.

FEARS •

death; She lost her mother, and she saw what death could do. She doesn't fear dying herself, but she fears what her death would do to her father.

being hurt; She can't handle pain very well; emotionally or physically. Little things like small cuts or bruises are ok, but getting shot is a recurring nightmare for her. Probably because she saw her mother die in pain. Most likely.

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"And they've given you a reason to fight."

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]FAMILY • Mother: Amira Holmes
Father: James Holmes
PETS • Stranger--horse.
HISTORY •

James and Amira were officers--protectors of the law. So were there parents. And their grandparents. And great-grandparents. And so on; it was the family tradition.

The Holmes' expected to give birth to plenty of children, all who would grow up serving their country, but there was one, major problem: Amira was thought to be barren.

But still, they tried and tried, and yet each attempt resulted in a failed pregnancy. But then one day, Amira felt a stir in her middle--something new, and exciting. Now knowing what it was, she dismissed it as a strange stomach pain, and carried on as if nothing had ever happened. But when she began to throw up morning after morning, it finally clicked. She was with child.

Ivy was born with no complications, and soon enough, she was held in the arms of her father, who was looking down at her with adoration dancing in his eyes. Happy and together, the Holmes' were finally complete, and they swore to do everything they could to protect her.

James taught Ivy how to do everything an officer should know, abandoning the skills of what a lady shout have in the process. By the age of 10, instead of knowing how to sew, Ivy knew how to ride horses bare back, and spent her afternoons shooting targets, instead of drinking tea and learning postures.

They hadn't yet told her about what being an officer really meant, and the duties that came with it. But, rebellious as she was, when her parents forbade her from seeing her friends after coming home hours after curfew, she'd decided to disobey them even more by going into forbidden territory.

Her parents study; the place where she was told over and over never to go in.

And like a good child, Ivy had done as they said, skipping past the locked door many a time (rather irritatingly, you had to walk past the study to get to her bedroom), and never had she once tried to sneak in. Well, there was that one time--but it didn't matter. Because this time, she was going to go in.

She approached the door, hands on hips, head tilted in defiance. The door was locked; but she was armed.

Ivy meant business.

Wrestling free the grips from her hair, she tucked them cautiously into the lock, before expertly fiddling with them until they were in place. The edge of her lips lifted into a smug smirk; her father would rue the day he taught her how to pick a lock.

After a few seconds, she heard the soft click of triumph, and without another thought she swiftly opened the door, slipping the grips back into her hair as she did so, before shutting the door quickly behind her. With another grin, she glanced around the room, feeling unbeatable; which she was.

With the posture of someone who mattered, Ivy leaped up onto a chair and searched through the various files scattered across the desk. She frowned; there were a lot of wanted signs, with black and white scary looking photographs of people posted underneath. With a blink, she read the words printed in red at the bottom: DEAD OR ALIVE.

Ivy shivered; what did it mean dead or alive? She knew that her parents were officers, but did that mean that they killed people?

After a few minutes of thinking, she decided to save the question for later; when the time was right, she'd ask her parents. Or, at least her friends.

With a quick glance across the room, Ivy hurried to put everything back to normal, before scurrying off, out of the study and into the comfort of her own bed. Luckily, her parents didn't notice a thing; or, so she thought.

She did wonder why they shortened the time she was allowed with her friends, though.

When James finally told Ivy what being an officer would require for her to do, she'd matured enough to understand that sometimes, rarely, killing people outweighed the bad. But, naive and innocent, she firmly believed that she'd never have to pull the trigger.

Her belief changed when her mother was attacked.

They carried her in, wounded and bleeding. Ivy had learnt from her parents that when a certain amount of blood was lost, then it was too late--they weren't going to survive.

Amira wasn't an exception.

She died in the hands of her husband, with her daughter knelt, crying at her side. At the funeral, Ivy fought the tears, wanting to send her mother off with pride, and respect. Her father dealt with it the same way.

As the days turned to weeks, James slowly deteriorated into a motionless being; alive, but dead.

He'd sit in the chair that Amira would always sit in, and he'd stare at nothing, not even flinching when Ivy screamed at him to say something--to say anything.

But he didn't.

And so she left.

When she was twenty, she became an officer, and her main priority was to find the man who'd murdered her mother. Three months later, she found him.

Ivy scoured the places where the man usually hunted for his victims, and it was on her fifth visit when she heard him when she was walking down the alleyway.

That misplaced footstep; the low grunt of anticipation. He was careless--disorganised and messy. He made mistakes, and Ivy noticed them all.

When she reached the end, she stopped, bending down to adjust her shoe, giving the man time to catch up. Her heart pounded in her ears, the adrenaline rushing through her blood; she felt the excitement, the adventure. When she stood back upright, he was already there.

She felt the rough hand grip into her shoulder, throwing her into the wall.

She grunted, shifting her position just in time to soften the throw--he was quicker than she expected. Dodging a punch, she bent down, twirling with grace as she danced away from his grip, grabbing the gun that was strapped to her hip, hidden behind her jacket. The gun was new, and therefore quick, and she never missed her targets--she knew he didn't have a chance.

Unfortunately, he did not.

"Put down the big gun, sweetheart." He chuckled, licking his lips. "You don't know how to use it."

Ivy cocked the gun; the smirk on the man's face vanished.

She fired four shots--the man fell to floor, dead.

She pocketed her gun, and walked home, a weight finally lifting off her shoulders.

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"And you're not going to take what they've got to give,"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]ROLEPLAY SAMPLE •

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"And you're not going to let them take your will to live"

[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]IF FOUND, PLEASE NOTIFY CITRUS IMMEDIATELY. THEY HAVE BEEN SEARCHING SIXTEEN YEARS FOR THIS INDIVIDUAL. PLEASE MEET AT THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE, AND RECITE "WOULD YOU OM MY NOM" IN ORDER TO RECEIVE YOUR REWARD.

this table was created by grey, and is to be used nowhere else.

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[GREYtheFLAILER]

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