Post by Deleted on Dec 22, 2013 20:48:37 GMT -6
||| Chamomile |||
#Name; Chamomile.
#Age Group ; Middle-aged.
#Gender ; Female.
#Species; Unicorn.
#Cutie Mark ; A needle with an orange thread.
#Occupation ; She runs a small business called 'Gears' - a repairs shop. She'll fix almost anything.
#Powers and Abilities ; If she focuses hard, Chamomile can use a blast from her horn to weld metal together, and often uses magic in place of a screwdriver or spanner, or to sew. Apart from that, though, she doesn't have much magical talent; even making more than one thing levitate at once can be hard for her.
#Physique ; Pretty much average.
#Mane and fur color and style ; Chamomile has pale pink fur and an unusually short lavender-coloured mane. Her mane and tail are mostly straight except for a slight curl at the ends. She has a magenta bow behind each ear and at the base of her tail.
#Eye color ; Bright orange.
#Other appearance details (optional) ; When she's working she wears a khaki vest with pockets on and a toolbelt.
#A more thorough description (optional) ; N/A
#Personality ;
Chamomile is a kind and generally helpful pony. She always offers moral support and is constantly encouraging other ponies to be the best that they can. She has a tendency to call everyone she speaks to names like 'darling' and 'sweetie' even if she hardly knows them - especially if she hardly knows them. On the other hand, though, Chamomile gets very bossy when she's angry or worried or stressed, and she worries a lot, especially when she's bored or not doing anything with her hooves. She's pretty complacent with her stuff, too, and she's not awfully well-organised.
If there's one thing that can be said about her it's that she absolutely adores children. Being a motherly type, Chamomile loves to spend time with and look after foals, as well as teach them about things like craft and sewing.
Chamomile is a perfectionist, and won't give up on anything until she's completely happy with it. She corrects people and gives advice a lot. Once she's started doing something she often gets very passionate about it and is extremely loyal, whether it be to a cause or a pony or a thing.
There are few things Chamomile loves more than her job. Repairing broken things isn't just her talent or what she does: it's practically her life. She feels that if she didn't fix things she wouldn't be anyone at all. Some of the things Chamomile likes slightly less than fixing stuff include books, long walks and tea. At the other end of the spectrum, there are few things Chamomile dislikes more than greed and ponies who manipulate or take advantage of others for their own personal gain. Some of the things she dislikes slightly less than greedy, manipulative ponies include lies, being outside at night and strawberries.
She's a very fussy eater too.
#History ;
Chamomile was born in Ponyville and has lived there all her life. She was very shy as a filly, and she had a lot of trouble with bullies in school. It's not as if everyone was horrible to her, but for many years Chamomile only had one real friend - an Earth Pony by the name of Waterleaf. The two fillies were inseparable.---
Chamomile and Waterleaf lounged under a tree in Chamomile's backyard, playing with Waterleaf's hoof-painted porcelain figurines. They were having a sleepover and had just eaten dinner.
'You can't have any,' said Waterleaf's green pony to Chamomile's red one.
'But... it's cake! Why can't I have the cake?'
'Because, um...' Waterleaf was struggling for an answer. 'Because.' The two fillies stared at each other and burst out laughing. They found it hard to stop.
Once they'd calmed down, Chamomile stood up. 'Mum made some cake.' She nodded her head in the direction of her house. 'If you want some,' she added. With a shrug, Waterleaf stood up and trotted towards the house. Following suit, Chamomile took two steps and then heard a crunch. Lifting up her hoof, she found one of Waterleaf's figurines, crushed.
Waterleaf turned around at the noise. 'What was that?' she asked, walking back, then seeing the shattered blue pony near Chamomile's hoof. 'My pony!' she cried.
'I didn't see it! It wasn't-' Chamomile said apologetically, but was cut off by Waterleaf.
'Do you know long it took me to paint that?' She was yelling now, with a hurt look and tears in her eyes. Chamomile shirked away from her friend. 'And that one was the first! The very first - I got my Cutie Mark when I made that!' Waterleaf was very clearly furious. 'It was special.' For a moment she seemed to calm down, but she shook her head and ran out of the garden without taking the rest of her figurines.
'And you can keep your stupid cake, Cham!'
Dropping to the ground in disbelief, Chamomile rewound the last couple of minutes in her head and played them again. She couldn't help but think that Waterleaf was overreacting. She shook her head. She was fairly certain she had just lost her best friend all because she didn't look where she was going. Chamomile collected the figurines Waterleaf had left behind, and put all the pieces that she could find of the broken one into a small cardboard box. She slowly walked inside to her bedroom and carefully set her load down on the bedside table. After that, she dumped herself on her bed, buried her face in the pillow, and cried herself to sleep.
Then it was the middle of the night; Chamomile had woken up. Through the window, the moon was casting an odd and eerie shadow into her room, so she turned her lamp on just for comfort. She lay on her back, trying to get to sleep. She knew that if she thought too hard she'd just start crying again.
That was when she noticed the pot of glue sitting on her dresser...
The next day at school, Chamomile searched eagerly for Waterleaf. She had something she wanted to show her.
Chamomile spotted the familiar, messy green mane and rushed towards it 'Waterleaf!'
Hearing her name, Waterleaf turned. 'Ch-Chamomile!' she said uncertainly.
'I'm sorry, Watts, I really really didn't mean to step on your pony, I-'
There was a lump in Waterleaf's throat. 'Cham-'
Chamomile was talking so fast that she didn't notice Waterleaf speaking. '-wanted to give you this.' She pulled a box out of her saddlebag and handed it to Waterleaf. 'I stayed up most of last night-'
Waterleaf took the box. 'Cham-'
'-making, well, fixing, this because even if you hate me-'
'Cham, look at your flank!' she shouted.
This shut Chamomile up. She looked over her shoulder to see the needle-and-thread picture on the flank which used to be bare. A Cutie Mark.
While Chamomile shrieked with joy, Waterleaf opened the box to find the figurines she'd accidentally left behind as well as the one Chamomile had stepped on. It had been glued together, obviously painstakingly, and though it was nothing close to mint condition, Waterleaf couldn't help but smile. Chamomile looked like she was about to say something, but Waterleaf interrupted her softly. 'You know I don't hate you, Cham.'
Chamomile blinked. 'Watts, you said-'
'You know what my temper is like. I'm really sorry I flipped on you like that.' She hesitated. 'Besides, I couldn't live with myself if I stayed angry at you. You're my best friend.' Waterleaf hugged Chamomile. 'My best friend with a Cutie Mark,' she added just to make her friend smile.---
Chamomile had walked Waterleaf up to the train station.
'But are you sure? You don't have to leave...' Chamomile trailed off. Waterleaf was moving away. Not to anywhere in particular - for longer than either of them could remember, Waterleaf had wanted to spend her life travelling, and that was possible now that she'd finished school.
Waterleaf laughed. 'Oh Cham, I'll miss you. I promise I'll visit, you know. It's not like I'll never see you again.' She smiled reassuringly. 'And I'll write you a letter every freaking day, if you want.' The train whistled, and she checked her watch. 'I gotta go. Be seeing you,' she said, taking a step forward and hugging Chamomile.
Chamomile returned her friends embrace. 'You know, Watts, I'd write to you every single day if you had a stationary address.' She let go of Waterleaf.
The train whistled again and Waterleaf scrambled aboard. 'The scary thing is that you actually would!' she yelled from the doorway, waving. She ducked inside just as the door snapped shut and the train started moving.
Chamomile waved as Waterleaf stuck her head out the window.---Two months after Waterleaf moved away, Chamomile opened her shop, Gears. She's been there ever since.The Roleplayer's Corner
#Nickname ; Shoy
#Age ; 14
#Gender ; Female
#How did you find us? ; From the RPG Directory.
#Sample RP ;
Using her nose, Chamomile gently pushed the box towards the back of the shop where she kept all the objects she had repaired that hadn't been collected yet. The bell above the door tinkled as somepony pushed the door open.
'Hold a minute!' Chamomile called and continued to push the box. Anyone would think it would take three seconds rather than three minutes to push a box halfway across such a small room, but the size was exactly the problem. There was so much stuff in the place it was hard to navigate. Most of the room was taken up by old wooden shelves, filled with jars and tins and little boxes of supplies like paint and screws, as well odds and ends she'd collected over the years such as off-cuts from wood and fabric. Before she knew it, the shelves were all filled up and there were chests on the floor. Then there were chests on the chests. Chamomile knew it was getting a bit out of hand and that she really ought to do something about it. She could only imagine what the customers thought of it.
Shoving the box one last time, she raced back to the counter, nearly tripping over one of the chests.
'Sorry for the delay. How may I help you, dear?' she asked, then looked up to see that she was alone in the room and that the door was ajar.
'Bother.' She trotted to the door to inspect the latch. Door's gone again, she thought. Slipping a screwdriver out of her toolbelt, Chamomile tinkered with the latch for a moment, then forcefully kicked the door shut. It stayed. One of these days, she promised herself, she'd find the time to fix the door properly.