-OOC-
Character Info
Name: Konan
Canon: Naruto
Class: Dark Blue; Lower Class
Personality: Konan is a solemn woman, both practical and efficient, in a quiet manner. She guards her ideals fiercely, if in a more passive manner than others. She is not abrasive, preferring to listen and learn, rather than get overzealous or upset over something that could lead to an explosion of temper and a visible weakness that could in turn be exploited.
Overall though, despite her willingness to talk to others, she remains a reserved woman, preferring to deal with her emotions in her own manner, rather than expressing them too publicly and having to handle any possible repercussions. This is not to say that she doesn't possess normal emotions and feelings; simply that she keeps them beneath the surface of a very convincing mask. They are meant for herself and herself alone, not something to be spoken of freely.
However, this is not to say she is a completely shut-off person, either. But others would find it a difficult task to break through that level of cool ice she surrounds herself with. It is something that Konan is almost proud of, in her own modest way. Lastly, Konan is respectful and formal to those around her, preferring not to get too close or honor someone's name too informally. The only exception to this would be Pein, and while she hasn't seen him in years, she likes to think that she would know him on sight. The boy he was and the man he has to be now are ingrained into her heart and mind as someone to hold out for. Not to save her per se...but to lead her, as he did years ago when she was a frightened little girl.
Konan prefers not to speak with the Blondie's at all, if she can avoid it. She looks at them in a mostly apathetic light, viewing them as creatures that have fallen much lower than anyone in the Slums could ever hope to fall. They live in decadence while others suffer and starve, and few are redeemable in her eyes. It is because of them that she keeps her business more low-key, not wanting to attract their attention towards herself or others.
Background: Konan was born in the slums. Her parents both had dark hair, her father's a deep blue and her mother's a simple black. She doesn't remember them overmuch, nor does it bother her on most days. Her parents died when she was little, caught up in a gang war taking over the prefect. Little Konan was soon found by a young boy near her own age named Nagato, and together the two of them clung to one another, seeking shelter from the cold rain. That first night was the hardest, but it was one that she would remember for the rest of her life. The cold, the uncertainty...and the feel of being held and protected by someone who honestly cared if she lived or died. Years passed, and the two children grew up together slowly. Konan was eager to learn, as was her friend, to grow stronger, smarter. Books were devoured, newspapers, words on the computers. Anything to better themselves. It was Konan's fervent desire to rise above the filth that they lived in, to a better life. And if that weren't possible, to at least become strong and capable while living where she did.
Time passed, and Konan lost contact with him. Forced to make her own way, Konan struggled. She had always been adept at origami, and now and then she would manage to sell a piece made from bits of trash for small amounts of money. It was barely enough, but she survived.
It was during her teenage years that she stumbled upon what would become her home later on. A brothel. Konan was welcomed inside, but balked at the prospect of selling herself. The madame was a stern but kind woman, and Konan ended up remaining there. She had a distaste for prostitution, but helped out where she could with figures, information, and was eventually rewarded with the madame's death a few years later by inheriting the building and all of the prostitutes in it. Unwilling to turn them out into the world, where they would likely be raped before they were ever paid, she reluctantly took on the job of manning the building. It was renamed The Butterfly Menagerie after a customer commented on Konan's origami butterflies that were a relief of sorts from the dilapidated building; making things slightly more elegant than they were before. It was a small touch, but one that comforted the people that Konan would come to refer to as "her butterflies."
Years passed, and were kind to Konan. Her skin is still smooth, unmarked by disease, her eyes clear, if hard. And while she guards her butterflies closely, she does so with a sense of detachment. They perform services for her (both the expected and the more mundane, such as maintenance on the home itself, cleaning and cooking), keeping the house afloat and in turn she kept them fed, safe, and warm. It was an equivalent trade, in her eyes.
It is where she remains now. A quiet Madame Butterfly watching over her fold.
Sample Third Person: It was just another day in the slums.
The tea was weak and lukewarm by the time she had retrieved it, but it worked well enough to refresh her that morning. The Butterfly Menagerie in which she staid wasn't the most beautiful of buildings...but it had a certain elegant charm to it. The result of years of elbow grease from people who cared to see it survive. It was their home after all. Konan's, and those who she employed.
Quietly, she moved towards her balcony, peering outside at the street below. The cup was brought to her lips, a small sip taken. Beneath, across the street a fruit vendor was selling his meager wares while a young girl with long black hair danced in the streets for pennies. Cool blue eyes held little emotion over these actions; she simply studied them and sipped her tea, calm.
"Miss Konan?" There was a soft knock at her door and she turned back, heading towards the balcony door, staring through the room towards the opposite wall. Slowly, the door opened, and a dark-eyed girl peered in at her.
"There's a customer here..." she whispered urgently and Konan's eyes hardened. The Menagerie was a normal home for the morning and early afternoon. The men and women there did chores in that time, rested, or took time for themselves. Konan didn't really care what they did with themselves in that time so long as they didn't disrupt one another. This was a well known fact that had been a rule since the Menagerie's birth. For a moment, Konan closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, setting her tea aside on a shabby little endtable covered with a scrap of blue satin.
"I will take care of it." she said calmly, gesturing for the girl to lead the way. By the time they had reached the second story she could hear the man yelling to be allowed entrance, several of the whores hiding behind larger pieces of furniture. They looked up at the Madame, and calmed slightly, but Konan didn't allow them to sway her mind as she moved to the doorway. He was drunk; that much was certain. She fancied that she could almost smell the putrid alcohol from where she stood; all the same, she carefully opened the door as far as the meager chain lock would allow, peering outward, her eyes glacial.
"Our working hours have not begun yet. Your loud yelling is not wanted or needed here. I would suggest you vacate the premises and go elsewhere, if you please." the man cursed in response, brown eyes raking over what he could see of the woman's form with an equally cold light.
"Uppity bitch." Konan's answer was quick. She was not a woman to lose her temper, but she was a woman of action. The man was showing disrespect, and that in turn could be taken as a threat against the others who depended on her. The door was opened, and the man smugly stepped forward with an unsteady gait, attempting entrance. From her sleeves, heavy paper fans dropped to her fingertips, and with steps as graceful as any dancer's, the woman was moving forward, hands raised. She moved quickly, lightly, and for it, he hardly knew what hit him. He wasn't dead by any means...but he was on the ground a moment later holding his eyes with a howl of pain, blood slowly trickling down his cheeks. He stumbled forward, and was met with steady hands from two of the men who worked on the second floor. Without ceremony, the pair shoved the man out the door and everyone watched as he stumbled on the steps, once more letting out a pained moan before scooting away, slinking back into whatever shadow he had initially crept out of. There was calm once more and Konan subtly replaced the fans in the sleeves of her dress, offering the small assembled group a serene smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.
"Carry on with your duties." she said shortly and turned away, returning to her room on the top floor. To that cup of cold tea and the balcony that overlooked the street.
Yes, it was just another day in the slums.
Sample Journal Entry: I would like to remind those who frequent the Butterfly Menagerie to mind their manners. Those with more energy to spare than sense are not welcome, and while I am here, you will not be admitted entrance into this business.
Despite what those of The Class may think, we are people and have dignity. I would see that those of you who complain so often display it for yourselves, and perhaps others will treat you as if you are worth that which you ask for.
Name: Konan
Canon: Naruto
Class: Dark Blue; Lower Class
Personality: Konan is a solemn woman, both practical and efficient, in a quiet manner. She guards her ideals fiercely, if in a more passive manner than others. She is not abrasive, preferring to listen and learn, rather than get overzealous or upset over something that could lead to an explosion of temper and a visible weakness that could in turn be exploited.
Overall though, despite her willingness to talk to others, she remains a reserved woman, preferring to deal with her emotions in her own manner, rather than expressing them too publicly and having to handle any possible repercussions. This is not to say that she doesn't possess normal emotions and feelings; simply that she keeps them beneath the surface of a very convincing mask. They are meant for herself and herself alone, not something to be spoken of freely.
However, this is not to say she is a completely shut-off person, either. But others would find it a difficult task to break through that level of cool ice she surrounds herself with. It is something that Konan is almost proud of, in her own modest way. Lastly, Konan is respectful and formal to those around her, preferring not to get too close or honor someone's name too informally. The only exception to this would be Pein, and while she hasn't seen him in years, she likes to think that she would know him on sight. The boy he was and the man he has to be now are ingrained into her heart and mind as someone to hold out for. Not to save her per se...but to lead her, as he did years ago when she was a frightened little girl.
Konan prefers not to speak with the Blondie's at all, if she can avoid it. She looks at them in a mostly apathetic light, viewing them as creatures that have fallen much lower than anyone in the Slums could ever hope to fall. They live in decadence while others suffer and starve, and few are redeemable in her eyes. It is because of them that she keeps her business more low-key, not wanting to attract their attention towards herself or others.
Background: Konan was born in the slums. Her parents both had dark hair, her father's a deep blue and her mother's a simple black. She doesn't remember them overmuch, nor does it bother her on most days. Her parents died when she was little, caught up in a gang war taking over the prefect. Little Konan was soon found by a young boy near her own age named Nagato, and together the two of them clung to one another, seeking shelter from the cold rain. That first night was the hardest, but it was one that she would remember for the rest of her life. The cold, the uncertainty...and the feel of being held and protected by someone who honestly cared if she lived or died. Years passed, and the two children grew up together slowly. Konan was eager to learn, as was her friend, to grow stronger, smarter. Books were devoured, newspapers, words on the computers. Anything to better themselves. It was Konan's fervent desire to rise above the filth that they lived in, to a better life. And if that weren't possible, to at least become strong and capable while living where she did.
Time passed, and Konan lost contact with him. Forced to make her own way, Konan struggled. She had always been adept at origami, and now and then she would manage to sell a piece made from bits of trash for small amounts of money. It was barely enough, but she survived.
It was during her teenage years that she stumbled upon what would become her home later on. A brothel. Konan was welcomed inside, but balked at the prospect of selling herself. The madame was a stern but kind woman, and Konan ended up remaining there. She had a distaste for prostitution, but helped out where she could with figures, information, and was eventually rewarded with the madame's death a few years later by inheriting the building and all of the prostitutes in it. Unwilling to turn them out into the world, where they would likely be raped before they were ever paid, she reluctantly took on the job of manning the building. It was renamed The Butterfly Menagerie after a customer commented on Konan's origami butterflies that were a relief of sorts from the dilapidated building; making things slightly more elegant than they were before. It was a small touch, but one that comforted the people that Konan would come to refer to as "her butterflies."
Years passed, and were kind to Konan. Her skin is still smooth, unmarked by disease, her eyes clear, if hard. And while she guards her butterflies closely, she does so with a sense of detachment. They perform services for her (both the expected and the more mundane, such as maintenance on the home itself, cleaning and cooking), keeping the house afloat and in turn she kept them fed, safe, and warm. It was an equivalent trade, in her eyes.
It is where she remains now. A quiet Madame Butterfly watching over her fold.
Sample Third Person: It was just another day in the slums.
The tea was weak and lukewarm by the time she had retrieved it, but it worked well enough to refresh her that morning. The Butterfly Menagerie in which she staid wasn't the most beautiful of buildings...but it had a certain elegant charm to it. The result of years of elbow grease from people who cared to see it survive. It was their home after all. Konan's, and those who she employed.
Quietly, she moved towards her balcony, peering outside at the street below. The cup was brought to her lips, a small sip taken. Beneath, across the street a fruit vendor was selling his meager wares while a young girl with long black hair danced in the streets for pennies. Cool blue eyes held little emotion over these actions; she simply studied them and sipped her tea, calm.
"Miss Konan?" There was a soft knock at her door and she turned back, heading towards the balcony door, staring through the room towards the opposite wall. Slowly, the door opened, and a dark-eyed girl peered in at her.
"There's a customer here..." she whispered urgently and Konan's eyes hardened. The Menagerie was a normal home for the morning and early afternoon. The men and women there did chores in that time, rested, or took time for themselves. Konan didn't really care what they did with themselves in that time so long as they didn't disrupt one another. This was a well known fact that had been a rule since the Menagerie's birth. For a moment, Konan closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, setting her tea aside on a shabby little endtable covered with a scrap of blue satin.
"I will take care of it." she said calmly, gesturing for the girl to lead the way. By the time they had reached the second story she could hear the man yelling to be allowed entrance, several of the whores hiding behind larger pieces of furniture. They looked up at the Madame, and calmed slightly, but Konan didn't allow them to sway her mind as she moved to the doorway. He was drunk; that much was certain. She fancied that she could almost smell the putrid alcohol from where she stood; all the same, she carefully opened the door as far as the meager chain lock would allow, peering outward, her eyes glacial.
"Our working hours have not begun yet. Your loud yelling is not wanted or needed here. I would suggest you vacate the premises and go elsewhere, if you please." the man cursed in response, brown eyes raking over what he could see of the woman's form with an equally cold light.
"Uppity bitch." Konan's answer was quick. She was not a woman to lose her temper, but she was a woman of action. The man was showing disrespect, and that in turn could be taken as a threat against the others who depended on her. The door was opened, and the man smugly stepped forward with an unsteady gait, attempting entrance. From her sleeves, heavy paper fans dropped to her fingertips, and with steps as graceful as any dancer's, the woman was moving forward, hands raised. She moved quickly, lightly, and for it, he hardly knew what hit him. He wasn't dead by any means...but he was on the ground a moment later holding his eyes with a howl of pain, blood slowly trickling down his cheeks. He stumbled forward, and was met with steady hands from two of the men who worked on the second floor. Without ceremony, the pair shoved the man out the door and everyone watched as he stumbled on the steps, once more letting out a pained moan before scooting away, slinking back into whatever shadow he had initially crept out of. There was calm once more and Konan subtly replaced the fans in the sleeves of her dress, offering the small assembled group a serene smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.
"Carry on with your duties." she said shortly and turned away, returning to her room on the top floor. To that cup of cold tea and the balcony that overlooked the street.
Yes, it was just another day in the slums.
Sample Journal Entry: I would like to remind those who frequent the Butterfly Menagerie to mind their manners. Those with more energy to spare than sense are not welcome, and while I am here, you will not be admitted entrance into this business.
Despite what those of The Class may think, we are people and have dignity. I would see that those of you who complain so often display it for yourselves, and perhaps others will treat you as if you are worth that which you ask for.