Crisis Murphy Owen
"Too many people have fucked with my head"


her.
Name: Crisis Murphy Owen
Nickname(s): Cris, Iss, Issy, Isis
Canon or Non-canon? Non-canon
Age: 18
Date of Birth: 31st October

face value.
Eye Color: Dark brown
Hair Color: Chocolate brown
Skin Tone: Pale peach
Body Shape: Slim, fairly boyish
Height: Short. Around five foot.
Distinguishing Marks: An unpleasant series of scars on her right leg from a horse riding accident

Appearance:

If Crisis wears her hair up, it's always kinda messy. She's not the type of girl to spend hours primping and preening in front of a mirror, fussing over make up and straighteners. The extent of her beauty routine is washing and brushing her hair; she leaves it to dry on its own, doesn't use conditioner and doesn't get it cut as often as she should because she hates the idle chitchat hairdressers insist on. If pushed, she'll wear clear lip gloss, though she thinks it gives her a trout pout, and mascara and maybe, maybe a little bit of eyeliner - but it's very rare. It's not that she doesn't care how she looks; she does, just on her own terms. She wants to feel comfortable in herself, not by other people's standards. She likes simple styles and block colours, most often wearing jeans and a tank top, with a hoodie if it's cold. Her attitude to appearance is straight forward and simple, though she does like to accessorise, particularly with items that have a special meaning to her. Hooded sweatshirts feel like a hug, a warm welcome when you come home after you've been away for a long time. When her sister got married and moved out, Crisis permanently "borrowed" some minor items that haven't been noticed as missing, like the pair of trainers she wore more than her sister or the scarf that smells like her and reminds her of shopping trips and rainy days.Playby: Amber Tamblyn

beneath the surface.


She used to be happy chattering away to strangers whilst giving directions and no matter how large the group of people she found herself in, she wasn't fazed. She made friends easily, and not just surface relationships; she could make close bonds after just a few meetings. She was bubbling with energy and enthusiasm, a joy to be around, except lately? Not so much. She's kinda withdrawn, like someone's drained all her colour away and replaced her with a pale imitation. She's quiet and timid, keeps her shoulders rounded and her gaze down like she's trying to hide herself away. The emotions and empathy and high melodrama that used to make her so much fun seem to have disappeared. Crisis has a tendency to snap when pushed or pried into. She's got a sarcastic mean streak that seems to have developed out of nowhere. She's not the girl they thought she was, if they're entirely honest. Dear, sweet, lovely Crisis Murphy Owen has gone; they don't know where and they don't know why, but they do know better than to ask by now. She's defensive, aggressive and seems to be on edge a lot of the time, anxious and pacing. She isn't sleeping well, having nightmares maybe, they don't know. She's jumpy too. And kinda paranoid. And keeps herself to herself, pretty much, spending most of her time hiding away in her room or huddled in a booth at the local diner, drinking coffee and reading and ignoring everyone and everything around her. She used to be highly observant, fascinated by people watching. Where's that girl gone?<div align=center>Likes:

• Reading
• Cold weather
• Storms
• Horses
• Travelling
• Being alone
• Ben and Jerry's ice cream
• Autumn
• Cherry coke
• Running away

Dislikes:

• Nosy people
• Talking about things that matter
• Hot days
• Being trapped
• Crowds
• Moths
• Airports
• Being late
• Liars
• Being forgotten

Goals: To understand herself and what she has become; to develop some kind of control over what's happening to her; to feel safe again; to find someone to trust; to stop having nightmares

Fears:

• Moths
• Drowning [she can't swim]
• Being trapped
• Unfamiliar places when it's dark
• Herself [what she might become, what she might do to other people, what other people might think/say/do]

Habits:

She bites her lip when she's nervous or stressed, tilts her head to the side when she's listening seriously and giving something some consideration or really trying to understand, she drums her fingers on any available surface when she's impatient or agitated, and she paces when she's anxious or upset.

Talents:

A quick wit, a more than average singing voice, the ability to outrun most people that may need to be outrun. She can read pretty quickly and touch type even faster. She was a good aspiring author once, but she's kinda given up on that. And she can be very observant and highly perceptive.</div>

out of the ordinary.
Alliance: Good guys
Character Type: Psychic
Abilities:

Animal Telepathy - The ability to communicate with (but not command or influence) various kinds of creatures, discovered she realised the voice she could hear in her head demanding food wasn't her own and was actually her dog.

Clairaudience - The ability to hear what is "inaudible", such as a loved one's cry of distress from miles away.

Empathy - The ability to sense the needs, desires, drives and emotions of others.

back at home.
Father: Matthew Owen - owner of polo ponies and race horses
Mother: Cassidy Owen [formerly Taylor] - authoress of trashy chicklit
Siblings: Brother: August, 21 - currently backpacking round Europe
Sisters: Helena, 24, moved out and married
Lola May, 15 - bit of a brat

History:

Cassidy and Matthew's romance was a whirlwind. They were married after barely a month and Cassidy was pregnant with August fairly soon after that. As a trashy chicklit authoress, she was well versed in the art of whirlwind romances, but also prone to frightening and melodramatic outbursts of temper. Their children grew up with parents who were either giving each other the cold shoulder, screaming at one another or locked together in their bedroom/the conservatory/the bathroom/etc. For all its ups and downs, it was love, though not always particularly real due to Cassidy's influence.

Crisis spent her early years trailing after her brother and his friends, begging with puppy dog eyes to be allowed to join in with their games, or with her father at the stables, learning to ride on polo horses that were used to going at 30mph and were really not suitable for such a small young girl, but the males in her life found it impossible to deny her anything. Even from such an early age, Crisis found it easier to understand and relate to men and boys than she ever could with girls or women, particularly her mother, who longed to dress her up in pigtails and pink dresses and shrieked every time Crisis came home a little dirty, which was frequently. She had a favourite horse that her father let her rename Beeblebrox, after a character in one of her most re-read books, and a black and tan double dapple smooth haired dachshund puppy, with one blue eye and one brown eye, named Yuki, the Japanese for snow [which she found in a Haruki Murakami book]. She was absolutely besotted with Yuki, confiding everything in the pretty little dog and cuddling up to her whenever things got too much for her.

Her teenage years were spent surrounded with an awesome group of friends and the usual ups and downs of the hormonally overwhelmed: trying to work out if the person you liked felt the same way, first kisses, awkward and kinda painful first times, epic fights over stupid things, growing up and growing apart, and being both hysterically weepingly upset and more than a little relieved when finally it was time to move out for college [of course taking her beloved Yuki with her].

Except Crisis didn't settle in the way she was supposed to. Sure, she did the whole unpacking and bonding with her roommates thing, and going out and getting drunk like everybody else [although she woke up alone in her own bed, which couldn't be said for any of the others in her ragtag group]. But sometimes strange thoughts would pop into her head. And she suddenly found herself thinking more cynically about people's motives; like the guy holding the door open for her only wanted to see her naked, and she was only being invited because they felt sorry for her if they didn't. And she'd wake up in the middle of the night with a voice in her head yelling for food or attention and it took her about a week to realise it was Yuki. And becoming the world's biggest freak pretty much overnight? Kinda too much to deal with. So, she shut down and withdrew into herself. Thought about dropping out of college before deciding it was too much effort. Trawled the internet late at night, thinking there must be sites for this sort of thing, although really what sort of thing was this? No help line to call, that was for sure. Trying to navigate the complete unknown alone [except, not alone, because Yuki - yeah, a dog, so her thought processes were fairly limited, but still, she was there, all the time]. And that's where Crisis is right about now; in crisis.

How your character feels about life right now
Life right now is complicated and more than a little bit confusing. There's stuff in her head that shouldn't be there and things going on that she never could have predicted in her wildest dreams. Oh, and on the subject of wild dreams, she's having a whole lot of pretty vivid nightmares too, just in case she hadn't quite got the message about her being a big old freak. Yup. She got it; she was a weirdy.
Any other information we should know about your character?Not that I'm aware...

me.
OOC Name: Tasha
Character Title: scared of words unsaid
What is the key phrase? no rest for the wicked
How did you find us? Uhm...I think I kinda stumbled upon it when I was looking at stuff on White Pages
Any questions? Nope

prove yourself.

Want. There was that insistent little voice again. Crisis knew the house was empty, so it couldn't be any of them or their TVs, but she knew it wasn't anyway. Want. Nope. That little voice was either in her head or she was hearing her dog Yuki's thoughts again, and to be honest neither scenario really screamed of sanity. She sighed, drummed her fingers on her desk and turned up the volume on her MP3 player, intent on blocking it out. Except there was a warm weight across her feet and the steady thumping of a tail on carpet that let her know Yuki was here and she wasn't going away. This whole thing wasn't going away. Crisis would have sought help by now but she didn't know what to say. "Excuse me, can you help me? I think my dog's trying to communicate with me."

And the terrible thing was, she was fairly sure she'd also be able to feel their reaction, the whole "Okay, crazy person, please don't hurt me". Because she kept finding herself wrapped up in other people's emotions - at least, she was fairly sure that was what was going on, because otherwise she was adding out of control moodswings to the Symptoms of My Breakdown list. Watching the inexperienced new girl spill her cappucino she'd felt frustrated humiliation, which made no sense because it wasn't Crisis that had made a mess yet again when she was trying so hard. Although Crisis didn't think she'd be doing a much better job lately either. She was tired. Really tired. She was having nightmares. Yes, really. Nightmares, like those things that happened to little kids and had them waking up crying and wanting night lights. There was usually fire and sometimes screaming.

Screaming. That happened a lot too. That was kinda like a nightmare too. You know when there's someone you know and they're screaming for you to help them but you can't get to them fast enough? It was like that. Like alarm bells ringing in her head, and that one actually tended to hurt quite a lot, leaving her with a headache so bad it made her feel nauseous. Sometimes she didn't even know the people, just heard their distress call and didn't know what to do about it except lie down in a darkened room and try not to take too many painkillers. But it was definitely tempting. More than tempting. She was hearing voices and screaming and feeling strange things and she was pretty much certain that she was absolutely losing her mind so, really, shutting everything up and taking too many pills seemed like a pretty damned good solution.

She'd got as far as reaching for the packet when Yuki nudged her, headbutting her shin [she was such a cute little dog]. Sad? Despite herself, Crisis smiled. Maybe she was just making all of this up, but at least this part of her insanity was being kind to her. "I'm okay princess." She murmured, leaning down to scoop Yuki into her lap and realising she was trembling. Scared, the maybe voice of her dog told her needlessly. She'd worked that out on her own, soothing with cuddles and reassuring words that were maybe just noises to the dog. This she could handle. Looking after Yuki was much easier than trying to find answers that might not exist or might not be what she wanted to hear. No, it was altogether easier to just try very hard to forget everything else and focus on the day to day business of living.