application; ooc
Player Name: Jes
Player LJ: threnoder
Contact: bedlam at plurk
Character Number: Third!
Character: Chane Laforet
Fandom: Baccano!
Personality: Chane is very shadowy, almost a ghost - there is very little to immediately lend to her being her own person. For a long time, everything belonged to her father. She served him, obeyed him, sought out his approval and affection above everything; and, when he had asked her what she wished in exchange for her loyalty and service, she asked that he remove her voice so that she can never give away his valued secrets. When Chane believes in something, as she believed in her father, she reserves her entire existence and energy all for this one thing. She is dedicating, unyielding, loyal to a fault, and will get back up with every last breath in her body if thrown down.
However, all that duty and service has left a very affection-starved individual. Chane is hardly the pinnacle of emotionally realised. Genuine affection and unconditional love are concepts that make no sense to her. Her conditioning is that even the basest of necessary human contact must be earned, and are in no way freely given. Kindness and attention without reason confuse her, leaving her struck and floundering. If you were to ask Chane if she were happy, she would not understand the question, because what does she have to compare it to?
It’s easy to see irreverence to her manner. Chane offers very in terms of interaction. She approaches most things around her with a perceived boredom. It’s possible that she considers very little in her life to be remarkable and her stillness stems from that, or it’s possible that this has stemmed from her poor emotional growth from a girl into a woman. Whatever the reason, Chane disregards most people around her and is perfectly content with her own company, her own thoughts, her own choices.
Chane lives a very Spartan, pragmatic lifestyle. She doesn’t care much for frivolity or aesthetic advantages; when Claire gives her a dress, she’s only impressed when she discovers he had a holder for her knife custom inserted into it.
Despite the rather unfulfilling relationship with her father, Chane is incredibly loyal to him. Everything she does, she does in order to honour his demands. She takes no small amount of fortitude in it, allowing her desire to please her father satisfy everything else in her life. She has no defining interests, goals, or plans - her entire life cycles around him.
Stripped from work, responsibility, and combat, Chane is shy; almost withdrawn. She covers it up with a smooth veil of professionalism and boredom, which often crumples under the weight of attention. Even if she had the ability to talk, communication would not come easy to Chane. She offers as little emotion as she can in any particular situation and often gives off misleading cues, being not nearly as physically reserved as she’d like. It’s easy to tell when she’s surprised, or angry, or even happy - even if the last one is a much less frequent event.
Despite all of this, Chane is a person with hopes, questions, desires, and passions on both sides of the continuum of love and distaste. More than that, she recognises her own youth and lack of knowing, and does not let it negatively colour her perceptions of the world around her. Stepping away from her father’s shadow, Chane seeks new growth, new opportunities, and new love.
History: All here.
Timeline: Post-episode 13.
Abilities: Chane is very skilled in both hand to hand combat and wielding twin knives, using speed and guile to best opponents bigger and stronger than she. It is notable that she takes on Ladd Russo and several other well trained mafia family members in close quarters combat and comes out without a scratch.
She cannot speak. This is an ability now.
Inventory: A single black dress (wearing) and two twin knives.
Link to an image of the character: This is a link to the image
Sample writing:Chane sits, and stands, and presses the notepad between two uncertain hands. Chane does a lot of things in silence - her actions bell loud enough to cover up for it, but even if she had words, they would mostly be an unerring script of ‘why’s.
“Why did you help me?”
“Why do you act like you care about me?”
“Why do you call me your friend?”
“Why did you tell me - ”
She never used to have all these whys. Her life used to be a clearly defined map of duty, responsibility, loyalty and silence - with her father tracing in the outline of that map so delicately, guiding her to each next step before she had to a chance to take a wrong turn and discover - anything else.
Here, in this barren land of labour and pilgrimage, she has to work herself back up from nothing. She doesn’t even have the luxury of all these whys to fill in her completely blank map.
She just has the day she’s in, and the day after that, and the day after that.
So Chane nods, and gestures, and blinks, and guides, and even smiles a little when the mood strikes - and when there’s a fight, she fights, even if she’s not sure what she’s fighting for.
When she starts to feel at home is when she wants to leave, run, sod physics as she’s done so well over the past few years - in sheer fit of will, in determination, in choosing. She knows that if her father, Huey Laforet, the Huey Laforet shows up tomorrow, she will resume her place at his side, his quickest weapon in reach. She wonders if he will and hopes to heaven that he won’t, because she’s finally a little separate, finally fully silent - and learning new words at the same time.
She may even try speaking a little: soundless words on unhearing ears.
Listening to nothing is better than not listening to screams.
Sample journal entry: Qwe xly 1&88??//……
[Chane frowns tinily down at the device in her hand, poking at it with inexperienced fingers. This is a far cry from waking up in the ice-cold river, holding on to a carrier crate - but not necessarily preferable, and definitely nearly as cold. She suppresses a shiver, tucking some hair out of her face as she considers the communicator again.]
a a a a b b b b c c d e f g
[Sorry about this, folks. Chane wipes the keypad and starts anew.]
Can anyone see this? Where am I?
[With a moment of thought, she adds something, likely nonsense to anyone who may be watching:]
A quelle heure depart le train?
Player LJ: threnoder
Contact: bedlam at plurk
Character Number: Third!
Character: Chane Laforet
Fandom: Baccano!
Personality: Chane is very shadowy, almost a ghost - there is very little to immediately lend to her being her own person. For a long time, everything belonged to her father. She served him, obeyed him, sought out his approval and affection above everything; and, when he had asked her what she wished in exchange for her loyalty and service, she asked that he remove her voice so that she can never give away his valued secrets. When Chane believes in something, as she believed in her father, she reserves her entire existence and energy all for this one thing. She is dedicating, unyielding, loyal to a fault, and will get back up with every last breath in her body if thrown down.
However, all that duty and service has left a very affection-starved individual. Chane is hardly the pinnacle of emotionally realised. Genuine affection and unconditional love are concepts that make no sense to her. Her conditioning is that even the basest of necessary human contact must be earned, and are in no way freely given. Kindness and attention without reason confuse her, leaving her struck and floundering. If you were to ask Chane if she were happy, she would not understand the question, because what does she have to compare it to?
It’s easy to see irreverence to her manner. Chane offers very in terms of interaction. She approaches most things around her with a perceived boredom. It’s possible that she considers very little in her life to be remarkable and her stillness stems from that, or it’s possible that this has stemmed from her poor emotional growth from a girl into a woman. Whatever the reason, Chane disregards most people around her and is perfectly content with her own company, her own thoughts, her own choices.
Chane lives a very Spartan, pragmatic lifestyle. She doesn’t care much for frivolity or aesthetic advantages; when Claire gives her a dress, she’s only impressed when she discovers he had a holder for her knife custom inserted into it.
Despite the rather unfulfilling relationship with her father, Chane is incredibly loyal to him. Everything she does, she does in order to honour his demands. She takes no small amount of fortitude in it, allowing her desire to please her father satisfy everything else in her life. She has no defining interests, goals, or plans - her entire life cycles around him.
Stripped from work, responsibility, and combat, Chane is shy; almost withdrawn. She covers it up with a smooth veil of professionalism and boredom, which often crumples under the weight of attention. Even if she had the ability to talk, communication would not come easy to Chane. She offers as little emotion as she can in any particular situation and often gives off misleading cues, being not nearly as physically reserved as she’d like. It’s easy to tell when she’s surprised, or angry, or even happy - even if the last one is a much less frequent event.
Despite all of this, Chane is a person with hopes, questions, desires, and passions on both sides of the continuum of love and distaste. More than that, she recognises her own youth and lack of knowing, and does not let it negatively colour her perceptions of the world around her. Stepping away from her father’s shadow, Chane seeks new growth, new opportunities, and new love.
History: All here.
Timeline: Post-episode 13.
Abilities: Chane is very skilled in both hand to hand combat and wielding twin knives, using speed and guile to best opponents bigger and stronger than she. It is notable that she takes on Ladd Russo and several other well trained mafia family members in close quarters combat and comes out without a scratch.
She cannot speak. This is an ability now.
Inventory: A single black dress (wearing) and two twin knives.
Link to an image of the character: This is a link to the image
Sample writing:Chane sits, and stands, and presses the notepad between two uncertain hands. Chane does a lot of things in silence - her actions bell loud enough to cover up for it, but even if she had words, they would mostly be an unerring script of ‘why’s.
“Why did you help me?”
“Why do you act like you care about me?”
“Why do you call me your friend?”
“Why did you tell me - ”
She never used to have all these whys. Her life used to be a clearly defined map of duty, responsibility, loyalty and silence - with her father tracing in the outline of that map so delicately, guiding her to each next step before she had to a chance to take a wrong turn and discover - anything else.
Here, in this barren land of labour and pilgrimage, she has to work herself back up from nothing. She doesn’t even have the luxury of all these whys to fill in her completely blank map.
She just has the day she’s in, and the day after that, and the day after that.
So Chane nods, and gestures, and blinks, and guides, and even smiles a little when the mood strikes - and when there’s a fight, she fights, even if she’s not sure what she’s fighting for.
When she starts to feel at home is when she wants to leave, run, sod physics as she’s done so well over the past few years - in sheer fit of will, in determination, in choosing. She knows that if her father, Huey Laforet, the Huey Laforet shows up tomorrow, she will resume her place at his side, his quickest weapon in reach. She wonders if he will and hopes to heaven that he won’t, because she’s finally a little separate, finally fully silent - and learning new words at the same time.
She may even try speaking a little: soundless words on unhearing ears.
Listening to nothing is better than not listening to screams.
Sample journal entry: Qwe xly 1&88??//……
[Chane frowns tinily down at the device in her hand, poking at it with inexperienced fingers. This is a far cry from waking up in the ice-cold river, holding on to a carrier crate - but not necessarily preferable, and definitely nearly as cold. She suppresses a shiver, tucking some hair out of her face as she considers the communicator again.]
a a a a b b b b c c d e f g
[Sorry about this, folks. Chane wipes the keypad and starts anew.]
Can anyone see this? Where am I?
[With a moment of thought, she adds something, likely nonsense to anyone who may be watching:]
A quelle heure depart le train?