app for disney_academy
❦ Mun
Name: Becca
Journal: takozu
Contact Info: xtakozux @ AIM
Other Characters: Meg, Amelia, Esmeralda, Kida.
❦ Character Info
Name: Lt. Helga Katrina Sinclair
Movie/series: Atlantis: The Lost Empire.
Year/Position: Staff/Teacher
Non-Speaking Animal Companion(if any): Mole. None.
Powers(if any): None.
Canon history: Here.
AU history: Helga arrived at the Academy just after her betrayal at the Atlantean volcano; she was rescued by the good-hearted Doctor Sweet of the crew, and left Atlantis in handcuffs, muscles in her back torn up and bones in her ribs shattered, and without a very specific Commander, who'd dropped off of her personal relationships list. After a bit of rehabilitation and fussing with the inability to act, she humbly returned to her employer, only to be sent off to the Academy in good faith; something Preston Whitmore has a bit too much of.
Her first days at the Academy included pushing her limits; seeing how far she could take herself before she began to loose tension at the seams. It didn't seem to take much; so she strengthened her outlook, and what she could. It wasn't long until her back began to cooperate.
The first appearance of Lyle Rourke almost tore her back apart. But, she wouldn't lose face in front of him. The relationship rekindled over old activities, meeting at the shooting range, as well as reminiscing. It wasn't until after he was kidnapped and subsequently rescued from the Mist that she acknowledged their repaired relationship; she also acknowledged that the Mist was unforgiving, it could take anyone it wanted.
Life continued at the Academy, she provided support and a listening ear to any and all that asked, though she wouldn't be telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. The trickling appearances of old comrades brought back fond and not so fond memories, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Rourke left, only to leave her hanging, and somewhat bitter about his disappearance. Still, she had bigger fish to fry.
She took a position of leadership for the good of the students, as if they'd become her own crew during the Mist invasion. Rourke returned in the heat of the mess, only to provide her with what she needed the most in the time of crisis; a commanding officer.
It didn't take long after the breach though, to decide she wanted out of her deal with Whitmore, her time served should've been plenty more than enough. The crew invited her back to Atlantis for a check in---to make sure the city was still there. She accepted, taking the lead and letting her troubles with her reputation and the Academy take a backseat.
Personality: Rejecting the initial image of being a female in her era, Helga easily stood out in the family when she wasn't amused by the flamboyant fashion she was asked to wear. She kept things simple, and still does, while retaining the air of high-class and professional. She's realistic, seeing reality almost black and white; a good thing's a good thing and a bad thing's a bad thing, if you can't change it, you can't change it, and she'll tell you how it is whether you like it or not. Sentiment is never blatant, underlying sentiment is another story. You'd have to be Sherlock Holmes to catch all the double meanings and hidden intentions she has. She's been known to not be afraid to bite the bullet when it comes to matters hitting the fan. But never challenge this woman scorned.
Helga's confident in what she does and doesn't take no for an answer. While personal relationships aren't her strongest point, she cares deeply for her crew and those serving under her command. Their safety is her number one priority no matter what the cost.
She's adaptable, the many years of traveling and the love for expeditioning makes moving to any place for her easy and quick. She's knows what she needs and what she doesn't need when it comes to anything.
As a previous marksmanship mentor, she's an excellent shot; and has a taste for handy firearms and other discernible weaponry, like throwing knives and other specialty tools.
She has a questionable affinity for gloves. Whether the attachment is psychological (Not wanting to get her hands dirty?) or simply tasteful, is unknown.
Don't call her by her first name unless you're Rourke respected and or well known company.
Greatest Fear: Failure. To fail to catch her prize as a mercenary isn't a failure, to fail as a commanding officer is. She fears having to send home those letters, or to accompany a police officer to inform families of their loss; especially when she knows it's her fault.
What are your plans with this character?: To pick up where the previous mun left off; Helga has become a key character in some plot developments as well as a major chess piece when it comes to the Black Mist. She's seen it, lived it, and strives to know more about it just so she can assist defeating it; and getting back to whatever it was she was doing before the Atlantis expedition.
❦ Writing
Third person writing sample: It hadn't been long enough. The snow hadn't even melted completely yet.
The lieutenant cleared a bit of hair from her face before pulling on her gloves to protect her fingertips from the chill. Paperwork still needed to be filled out to re-register her classes. That combat class had never gotten off the ground, and she felt like changing that. She was also chaperone to the viking girl and her weapons club. A piece of her regretted sending off that almost antique looking axe; but her better judgement told her it was best left in Whitmore's care. Speaking of the old man, Whitmore was still on the fence about her returning. It wasn't on the top of her worries list though; the man had every right. The green military jacket clung to her form as she stepped out onto the platform, pulling her trunk behind her. The wheels thunked over the threshold onto the concrete. The few flakes of snow that fell she brushed off of her shoulder with an almost condescending air. She'd tasted the familiar flavor that was a funded expedition, and something inside felt refreshed and ready to take on this Mist.
Not something she usually felt like doing.
Yet, it remained her number one obstacle. The only thing keeping her from charting an expedition anywhere, it was also the only thing that kept her here. Whitmore insisted she return. No expedition was to be had until the Mist had dispersed. Of course, Atlantis was a special case; her mind turned at having to face the queen who had stayed behind.
The air was still chilly against her face, puffs of cystallized vapor escaped rouged lips, and while the infiltration of the school had been more than a month ago, her back echoed a pain that'd long since past. The last time she'd been stepping off of this tram, she'd just finished fighting for her life against----who guessed it---Berk. the thought of the expedition sent a shudder down said spine. It hadn't been too much of a disappointment; they'd all returned safely. Broken, bent and beat up, but safe.
The time before that, she'd only been given a minimal amount of time to recuperate, and now here she was again. She wasn't about to let anything hold her back this time. Not old flames, nor reopened wounds, physical or emotional. Not Sweet, not Thatch, not anyone would stop her.
Mauser holstered at her hip, she continued into town with nothing more than a stern look on her face. Whether or not the rest of the crew would be returning with her; she'd left it up to them.
First person writing sample:
[ The feed fizzles on, comm obviously set up carefully to catch the best of the lieutenant as she continued to unpack. A quick announcement wasn't about to get in the way of her getting back to business. Her hair is a bit messy, falling from it's plaits, so a bit is hanging off of her shoulder into view. She looks almost tired. ]
Students and Faculty.
I've returned from abroad and I am now back to pick up where I left off. It seems the world isn't ready yet for me to come back, so. Here I stay.
[ She almost wants to chide, ask anyone if they'd missed her. However, she feels it isn't appropriate. ]
For those who know me, I'm sure it'll be good to see you again. Those of you who don't, My name is Lieutenant Helga Sinclair. Lieutenant or Miss Sinclair will suffice.
[ Her thoughts meander towards the orphan and her expression grows stern. ]
I look forward to instructing with all of you again. Good evening.
Appearance:
Classes: Ex-Marksmanship teacher, Ex-Wilderness Survival teacher,
Clubs: Chaperone to Astrid's Weapons Appreciation club.
Best Subject: Marksmanship and Wilderness Survival.
Greatest Fear: Failure.
How long have they been at the school(remember this school is from kindergarten on): Not quite since the beginning, but she's been here quite a while.
Relationships with other characters: to be edited.
❦ Permissions
Kissing/hugging/etc: definitely. if you've gained such a privilege.
Injuries: omg yes. just don't throw a punch if you can't take one.
Killing: nope. she can protect herself pretty adequately.
Mindreading/memory wiping/etc.: ehhhh depends. talk to me first.
Name: Becca
Journal: takozu
Contact Info: xtakozux @ AIM
Other Characters: Meg, Amelia, Esmeralda, Kida.
❦ Character Info
Name: Lt. Helga Katrina Sinclair
Movie/series: Atlantis: The Lost Empire.
Year/Position: Staff/Teacher
Non-Speaking Animal Companion(if any): Mole. None.
Powers(if any): None.
Canon history: Here.
AU history: Helga arrived at the Academy just after her betrayal at the Atlantean volcano; she was rescued by the good-hearted Doctor Sweet of the crew, and left Atlantis in handcuffs, muscles in her back torn up and bones in her ribs shattered, and without a very specific Commander, who'd dropped off of her personal relationships list. After a bit of rehabilitation and fussing with the inability to act, she humbly returned to her employer, only to be sent off to the Academy in good faith; something Preston Whitmore has a bit too much of.
Her first days at the Academy included pushing her limits; seeing how far she could take herself before she began to loose tension at the seams. It didn't seem to take much; so she strengthened her outlook, and what she could. It wasn't long until her back began to cooperate.
The first appearance of Lyle Rourke almost tore her back apart. But, she wouldn't lose face in front of him. The relationship rekindled over old activities, meeting at the shooting range, as well as reminiscing. It wasn't until after he was kidnapped and subsequently rescued from the Mist that she acknowledged their repaired relationship; she also acknowledged that the Mist was unforgiving, it could take anyone it wanted.
Life continued at the Academy, she provided support and a listening ear to any and all that asked, though she wouldn't be telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. The trickling appearances of old comrades brought back fond and not so fond memories, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Rourke left, only to leave her hanging, and somewhat bitter about his disappearance. Still, she had bigger fish to fry.
She took a position of leadership for the good of the students, as if they'd become her own crew during the Mist invasion. Rourke returned in the heat of the mess, only to provide her with what she needed the most in the time of crisis; a commanding officer.
It didn't take long after the breach though, to decide she wanted out of her deal with Whitmore, her time served should've been plenty more than enough. The crew invited her back to Atlantis for a check in---to make sure the city was still there. She accepted, taking the lead and letting her troubles with her reputation and the Academy take a backseat.
Personality: Rejecting the initial image of being a female in her era, Helga easily stood out in the family when she wasn't amused by the flamboyant fashion she was asked to wear. She kept things simple, and still does, while retaining the air of high-class and professional. She's realistic, seeing reality almost black and white; a good thing's a good thing and a bad thing's a bad thing, if you can't change it, you can't change it, and she'll tell you how it is whether you like it or not. Sentiment is never blatant, underlying sentiment is another story. You'd have to be Sherlock Holmes to catch all the double meanings and hidden intentions she has. She's been known to not be afraid to bite the bullet when it comes to matters hitting the fan. But never challenge this woman scorned.
Helga's confident in what she does and doesn't take no for an answer. While personal relationships aren't her strongest point, she cares deeply for her crew and those serving under her command. Their safety is her number one priority no matter what the cost.
She's adaptable, the many years of traveling and the love for expeditioning makes moving to any place for her easy and quick. She's knows what she needs and what she doesn't need when it comes to anything.
As a previous marksmanship mentor, she's an excellent shot; and has a taste for handy firearms and other discernible weaponry, like throwing knives and other specialty tools.
She has a questionable affinity for gloves. Whether the attachment is psychological (Not wanting to get her hands dirty?) or simply tasteful, is unknown.
Don't call her by her first name unless you're Rourke respected and or well known company.
Greatest Fear: Failure. To fail to catch her prize as a mercenary isn't a failure, to fail as a commanding officer is. She fears having to send home those letters, or to accompany a police officer to inform families of their loss; especially when she knows it's her fault.
What are your plans with this character?: To pick up where the previous mun left off; Helga has become a key character in some plot developments as well as a major chess piece when it comes to the Black Mist. She's seen it, lived it, and strives to know more about it just so she can assist defeating it; and getting back to whatever it was she was doing before the Atlantis expedition.
❦ Writing
Third person writing sample: It hadn't been long enough. The snow hadn't even melted completely yet.
The lieutenant cleared a bit of hair from her face before pulling on her gloves to protect her fingertips from the chill. Paperwork still needed to be filled out to re-register her classes. That combat class had never gotten off the ground, and she felt like changing that. She was also chaperone to the viking girl and her weapons club. A piece of her regretted sending off that almost antique looking axe; but her better judgement told her it was best left in Whitmore's care. Speaking of the old man, Whitmore was still on the fence about her returning. It wasn't on the top of her worries list though; the man had every right. The green military jacket clung to her form as she stepped out onto the platform, pulling her trunk behind her. The wheels thunked over the threshold onto the concrete. The few flakes of snow that fell she brushed off of her shoulder with an almost condescending air. She'd tasted the familiar flavor that was a funded expedition, and something inside felt refreshed and ready to take on this Mist.
Not something she usually felt like doing.
Yet, it remained her number one obstacle. The only thing keeping her from charting an expedition anywhere, it was also the only thing that kept her here. Whitmore insisted she return. No expedition was to be had until the Mist had dispersed. Of course, Atlantis was a special case; her mind turned at having to face the queen who had stayed behind.
The air was still chilly against her face, puffs of cystallized vapor escaped rouged lips, and while the infiltration of the school had been more than a month ago, her back echoed a pain that'd long since past. The last time she'd been stepping off of this tram, she'd just finished fighting for her life against----who guessed it---Berk. the thought of the expedition sent a shudder down said spine. It hadn't been too much of a disappointment; they'd all returned safely. Broken, bent and beat up, but safe.
The time before that, she'd only been given a minimal amount of time to recuperate, and now here she was again. She wasn't about to let anything hold her back this time. Not old flames, nor reopened wounds, physical or emotional. Not Sweet, not Thatch, not anyone would stop her.
Mauser holstered at her hip, she continued into town with nothing more than a stern look on her face. Whether or not the rest of the crew would be returning with her; she'd left it up to them.
First person writing sample:
[ The feed fizzles on, comm obviously set up carefully to catch the best of the lieutenant as she continued to unpack. A quick announcement wasn't about to get in the way of her getting back to business. Her hair is a bit messy, falling from it's plaits, so a bit is hanging off of her shoulder into view. She looks almost tired. ]
Students and Faculty.
I've returned from abroad and I am now back to pick up where I left off. It seems the world isn't ready yet for me to come back, so. Here I stay.
[ She almost wants to chide, ask anyone if they'd missed her. However, she feels it isn't appropriate. ]
For those who know me, I'm sure it'll be good to see you again. Those of you who don't, My name is Lieutenant Helga Sinclair. Lieutenant or Miss Sinclair will suffice.
[ Her thoughts meander towards the orphan and her expression grows stern. ]
I look forward to instructing with all of you again. Good evening.
Appearance:
Classes: Ex-Marksmanship teacher, Ex-Wilderness Survival teacher,
Clubs: Chaperone to Astrid's Weapons Appreciation club.
Best Subject: Marksmanship and Wilderness Survival.
Greatest Fear: Failure.
How long have they been at the school(remember this school is from kindergarten on): Not quite since the beginning, but she's been here quite a while.
Relationships with other characters: to be edited.
❦ Permissions
Kissing/hugging/etc: definitely. if you've gained such a privilege.
Injuries: omg yes. just don't throw a punch if you can't take one.
Killing: nope. she can protect herself pretty adequately.
Mindreading/memory wiping/etc.: ehhhh depends. talk to me first.