TATE, CALDER FELICITY

[Calder Felicity Tate]

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FULL NAMECalder Felicity Tate
NICKNAMES Cal, Tate.
AGE 23
SEXUALITY Open minded..
MEMBER GROUP Tourist
OCCUPATION Checkout Girl Extraordinaire
HEIGHT Shortass
HAIR Pink, Blue, Blonde, Red...etc
EYES Brown
PLAY-BY Audrey Kitching

LIKES
Her two amigos!, Hello Kitty, Sunglasses, M&Ms, Collecting crazy little pieces of junk that no-one much cares about, Nemesis Monroe; The purdiest little truck in the world! Jack Daniels, Hair Dye, 80s Cartoons, Adventures!

DISLIKES
Thinking about him, Being alone with her thoughts, Feeling cold, Peanut butter, Insomnia, Anyone who messes with Molly or Frankie, Losing things, That tattoo.

DREAMS
To figure out who she is, and what she's going to do with the rest of her life, and to be able to put her hand on her heart, look herself in the eye and say "I don't care anymore.."


OVERALL PERSONALITY

Reckless, dizzy, hedonistic and excitable. Always ready to jump into the centre of the party, always handy with a bottle of Jack. That's one side of Calder Tate. The side with the big smile and crazy hair, the side that's always laughing, always dancing. Then, there's the Calder Tate who is loyal to a fault to her 'sisters', who won't stand for anyone saying or doing anything to hurt Frankie or Molly, who is always there to listen and give them the best advice she can, or just give them a shoulder to cry on. But beneath all this is a Calder Tate that no one sees. Maybe Molly and Frankie get the occasional glimpse of this Calder. The girl who has no idea how she got into such a mess but hopes to god that running away will get her out of it.

MOTHER Jennifer Jane Sutton
FATHER Francis George Tate
SIBLINGS None
PETS Sid Vicious

OTHER FAMILY Molly and Frankie.
WEALTH CLASS 'Wealth' Class would be an inacurrate way to put it..
HOMETOWN Finley, North Dakota

OVERALL HISTORY

Calder Felicity Tate had a relatively normal childhood, in the sense that there were no life theatening events, she didn't travel from place to place, nothing terrible or fantastical or exciting happened to her. She went from baby to toddler to child to teenager in the same unremarkable fashion as most of the people in Finley did. Only then, just as she was starting to wonder about the same things that everybody starts to wonder at some point in their lives, namely who she was and who and what she wanted to be and why, Calder's parents announced perhaps the messiest divorce in Finley history. Her father, apparently, had been sleeping with a senior in Calder's school. When her parents found out, it was in the paper. Not the front page, or even the first few pages, but enough to end a seventeen year marriage and set Calder on a path of no return.

After her parents split, in the midst of all the animosity, all the name-calling and anger, Calder moved in with her mother, and stopped talking to her father. He had done this to them. He had torn their family apart. He had cheated on her mother with a skanky little whore. She was seventeen years old, and completed her senior year with average grades when she could have excelled, and took the job Molly's family offered her in their store. The hours suited her, the pay was decent and because she was a friend of Molly's, and they already knew her so well, they didn't seem to mind when she dyed her hair insane colours and dressed like a crazy girl. And for a while, she really, genuinely tried to get on with things, help her mother through her drinking problems and be a well-rounded, decent person. She wanted to prove to everyone, or maybe to herself, that what had happened to her family didn't make a damn bit of difference to her, she was living her life. And then she met Lincoln.

Lincoln Marshall was a walking good time. Everybody loved Lincoln, it seemed. He always knew when and how and why to party, and Calder was besotted with him. She fell in love with Lincoln and in his own way, Lincoln fell in love with Calder. If being in love means not wanting anyone else to look at, touch, or talk to your girl. He was jealous, possessive and controlling, and despite her friends pleading with her to get the hell out of there, Calder was having trouble coming to her senses. Turned out, it wasn't so much that everybody loved Lincoln, but that everyone was afraid of him, or of what he might do if they pissed him off, and it took Lincoln him being sent to jail for assault against one of her oldest friends to make her see at least the fact that she needed to be away from this guy - but she also knew that as soon as he got out, her resolve would crumble, and everything would be back where it started. And that was why she needed to leave town with her sisters. She figured a sixty day jail term gave her a head start on getting out of town and getting that asshole out of her head.

NAME/ALIAS [L]
ROLEPLAY EXPERIENCE Plenty
OTHER CHARACTERS At the time of writing this, none.

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE

With the taste of rum on her lips, and trouble on her mind, Ash surveyed the row of bars, Rosie's arm linked through hers. Although London was still uncharted territory for her, it didn't seem so far that different to New York. Sure, the people that milled around them were chattering away in a different accent than she was used to hearing, but so far that seemed to be the most alien thing, enchantingly exotic though it was to her. She was certain she had heard British people talking at school, Sullivan Chambers never shut up and he was Scottish...that was kind of British, right? And one of his friends, the quiet one, he seemed to have a proper English accent. But she wasn't at school now, and she was momentarily distracted by the lilt of the voices of the people talking behind her when Rosie nudged her and drew her attention to the guy with the hair. Yes. Cute. That definitely ought to be someplace they were interested in going.

He, like them, looked like he had just fallen out of the 50s, but got teased with a little modern styling on the way down. The bar he was stepping into looked like just the kind of place she would have made a beeline for back home, and so she needed no further encouragement in that direction. After their singing, dancing and drinking in the back of the cab, she was in high spirits and strutted and hummed along with the music Rosie was singing to, a smile on her lips as people seemed to step slightly aside for the two buzzing American girls making their way up to the entrance of the club.

Rosie already had the right idea. The trick was not to look like you needed any form of ID at all, that you belong here more than anyone else already inside, but that you'll be personally grateful to the doorman all the same if he waves you on through. And equally importantly like you could take the place or leave it. And of course a generous helping of curves and cleavage was a help, and neither of them had any trouble bypassing the bouncer and making their way in and down the stairs into the basement club.

By the time they were at the foot of the stairs, the bass was throbbing underfoot, and as Ash reached out to throw open the door, a wall of beautiful sound flooded out to greet them. She stood aside and let Rosie in first, before she stepped in and slid her arm through her friend's. It was dark inside the club, the only light coming from the bar, and a few points in the ceiling, and being reflected off of a disco ball in the centre of the room. It was filled with people dressed in a similar mode to themselves, some of them following the code of the 50s to the letter, while others were a little more punked out, sporting ink and colourful hair, the guys with pompadours and white vests, leather jackets or animal print trimmed blazers. On the walls were pictures of rockabilly bands, and framed records. It was heavenly. She leaned close, her lips beside Rosie's ear so that she could be heard over the pounding double bass "Oh my god - it's like home. And I need a martini!"

With that, she slipped her arm free and grabbed the other girl's hand, and led the way through the crowd around the bar, squeezing a path between the thronging people and turning back just once to grin happily. Ashlee was in her element, that much was apparent. She had never once been this excited about anything at Kimber. They were on the threshold of an adventure, and a shiver of excitement ran through her as she found them a space at the bar, two leopard print barstools side by side where they could sit and wait for one of the busy but wonderfully attired barstaff to take their order.

[CALIFORNIA GIRL]