[Dolly]

Birth Name: Dahlia Camina
Alias: Dolly
Age: 22
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Gender: Female
Race: Dominican
Current Location: The Wilds
Occupation: Scavenger
Playby: Pamela Ramos

Virtue: Patientia
Virtue Marking Placement: Up and to the left of her collarbone.
Vice: Patientia cannot speak audibly, but instead communicate mentally, causing them to become more reserved and less violent.
Specializations: Beasttkind Taming
Tamed: N/A
Species: N/A
Appearance: N/A
Nature: N/A



Height: 5' 8"
Skin Tone: Mocha, can pass as tan or olive skin tone
Build: Toned, fit, tall
Hair: Kept below shoulders, dark brown
Eyes: Dark brown
Clothing Preference: Anything tight-fitting and practical, with knee-high boots for style. Typically neutral colors or dark blues, a necklace from her grandmother.
Weapons: A steel baseball bat and a crossbow
Other Items: A knapsack with a bundle of 6 Yggdrasil leaves and 3 potions made from Yggdrasil sap and blessed water.

Personality: 

Dreamer: Dahlia Camina always liked to think she was something of a pragmatist and a realist. Feet planted firmly on the ground, head kept well under the cover of the dreamy, mind-nomadic territory of the the clouds, eyes set straight ahead to a goal. But, even as a child, her own free spirit betrayed the person she wished she could be. As is the case with many humans, Dahlia suffered from always wanting to be something other than she could achieve. For, if a person could settle with what they began with, what was the purpose of life? Dahlia was prone to all-manner of day-dreaming and irrational thought. She questioned the way of the world and reasons for doing things, specifically in terms of aggression and conflict. Whereas she would not willingly admit to her occasional bouts of flightiness, she would admit to strong streaks of pacifism in her morals. And she clung to these thoughts of peace and harmony to keep herself down-to-earth, believing that with every conflict she resolved in her personal life, she would find herself one step closer to normalcy and a level-head. It mattered less and less that she was curious. That was human, right? But a dream? Certainly not. Denying one's true self, though a major flaw, can ultimately strengthen character. In a new world where many things have become possible that were once the stuff of dreams, Dahlia would serve well to embrace the rejected persona of her childhood.

Stubborn: Dahlia places a lot of stock behind the choices a person makes in their own life and the reasons for making them; the consequences of these choices are of much less import. As long as a person rightfully chose the path that led them to whatever destination they have arrived at, Dahlia has a lot of respect. For this reason, she can be pretty stubborn about the choices in her own life and completely subscribing to a set of beliefs first and foremost. For, without holding strong to one's values and guidelines, a person can become shallow and useless. At least, in Dahlia's opinion. She may not even fully understand the reasons for defending a decision she is planning to make. Sometimes, things must be done for the good of remaining true, rather than betraying one's own values to please another. This facet of Dahlia often comes at odds with her penchant for remaining non-combative. Her own stubbornness has forced her into aggression in the past; that alone is a betrayal of self. Little does Dahlia know that by reigning in her free-spirit, the child within, and by stubbornly rejecting all that is impractical, she makes herself the most dastardly traitor herself.

Protective: Growing up in a rather large family has made Dahlia a strong defender of family and security. She actively seeks company if only to assuage some undying craving to serve and protect the closest thing she can call loved ones, be it a small group of friends she went out to party with for a night, a college study group, or even a neighbor she occasionally walks dogs for. Doing things in the best interest of others is satisfying for Dahlia, which is not to say she is extremely kind or caring. Her ingrained family values simply require her to be protective, and raising a child on her own only helped to feed this guardian-like nature. More than anything, Dahlia protects best when restraining herself, sacrificing something of gain to her, or enduring hardship for the advantage of another. 
Religious Beliefs: Catholic

Important Relationships: A three-year old son and five fellow scavengers.
History: Dahlia Camina was born and raised in a rather large family that consisted of a loving grandmother, two working parents, two younger sisters, and an older brother. Her grandmother was always considered the unanimous matron of the family, and Mr. and Mrs. Camina were not the type to fight for any sort of leadership position in a family so difficult to run. Luckily for Dahlia's mother and father, the senior Ms. Camina had led this type of dynamic before for many years and knew well how to keep a family close and open. There were rarely any secrets between the children of the Camina family, though Dahlia's parent had enough for the whole household. On more than one occasion, Dahlia had overheard her grandmother scolding her mother or father for one thing or another; drinking, staying out too late, skipping out on work, taking an unexpected vacation that left her in a difficult position. It always seemed so important and so normal when Dahlia was young that she rarely thought anything of it, and would only learn of her parents' lacking capacity for responsibility in her teenage years. Mr. Camina divorced Mrs. Camina in exchange for a much younger, much blonder version that lived in the heart of Los Angeles, just twenty minutes away from the family home. Dahlia's grandmother would not allow for this change to affect the household negatively, so only Dahlia and her older brother Gordo were informed of their parents' relationship troubles.

Dahlia, once an artsy, almost whimsical fairy of a child, sobered in response. The love of fairytales was revealed to be nothing more than a sham and the only thing strong enough to replace it was family. Family was not as warm as she had always thought, either. It was only more necessary for survival than love. Going out into the world with a perverse sense of security, such as even the most flawed family dynamic could provide, Dahlia vowed to have a family of her own one day that she would treat with not only unconditional love, but a great amount of freedom. There had been too many strict guidelines in the home of her grandmother, and too many secrets and gossip despite all its participants living under the roof of a rather uneventful home. Just after graduating, Dahlia fell into a confusing relationship with an older man that she had mistaken for love. He was extremely overprotective and territorial of her, which seemed on one hand surreal, having seen the much less care-centered relationship of her parents, and on another hand completely, judging by the iron fist her grandmother tended to employ in family matters. It only seemed right and almost comfortable that her day, according to her boyfriend, had to start with going to school and then work and finally end with going to bed. Unless, of course, he had inserted himself into her prescribed schedule. That was the only chance of alteration. She began to feel like a robot, going day-to-day with a bland daily agenda and no end in sight. A change, if not an end, came when Dahlia woke up one morning feeling dreadfully sick and decided it was time to see if there many nights of unprotected sex had paid off. At least, he seemed to be looking for a payoff via a pregnancy; a way to keep Dahlia his forever. It was more of a life sentence, one she would felt she could live with for all the perks that an older, employed, experienced man could offer. Making strides toward pragmatism, Dahlia embraced the news of a child that would eternally bind her to the man that had come to be a suitable substitute for a father that was rarely around.

A few months after Dahlia turned 19, she had her first child, a boy that her now-fiance had sternly decided would be named Aidan, after his great-grandfather. No heed was paid to Dahlia's request to choose a middle name, which her fiance claimed had to be Eduardo, after his father. Realizing it would be smartest and safest to let the whole matter slide, Dahlia slipped into the increasingly subdued life of going-nowhere housewife. She moved in with her fiance and awaited her fate, to marry, always fearful that something would go wrong and her fiance would call the whole thing off. A rage built up within her, mingling with the fear of a nation in turmoil. The world had just started to go to hell right after Aidan's birth, an occasion his father had once-too-often deemed an omen of evil, in jest. Dahlia came to hate most things her fiance joked about, or even spoke of for that matter. She became less comfortable with the idea of living invisibly until she died, and some of that childhood free spirit arose out of nowhere. She fled her home in the middle of the night with her son. That night, The Fall began.

When Dahlia was Reborn, she found herself in a group of five surrounding a massive Yggdrasil. There was no child to be found. Gaia's Decree told her that all people had been scattered, and informed her of her new destiny; one just as damning as becoming the invisible wife her fiance had always hoped for. She was doomed to fix a mess she had nothing to do with, all the while hoping that she would at least see her child again some day. Surely, Aidan had been taken care of, for there were many unkind people in the world, but few that would leave a crying newborn alone in this new, Torn world. For the next three years, Dahlia abandoned most of her hope to be reunited with Aidan. There were far too many places he could be, and with her hazy memory and inability to even remember his name, there was no telling how she would be able to locate him. His features were already pretty nondescript, being a newborn, and her memory could barely conjure up a hair color. She joined up with the people she had been dumped on this new earth with and learned to deal with the inability to speak that her Vice had laid upon her. The world seemed bent on making her voiceless, but she persevered nonetheless and became an integral member of the group, the unanimous second-in-command to an Industria with one arm who called himself Grope, befitting his somewhat vulgar tendencies. The group came to call her Dolly, because it was the only two syllables of her name she could find of her original one, retrieved from an ID card in a wallet that was nearly ash. She now vows to find her son, somehow, in the midst of all the new world chaos, and also do her best to keep the familial bond she has formed with her fellow scavengers strong.

OOC Account: Rennat
Other Characters: N/A
Contact Information: [e-mail] or PM Rennat

RP Sample:

Back away.

Dahlia stared straight ahead at the massive crystalline beast ahead of her. It's eyes with enormous, purple spheres with red slits, the venomous prongs of its overhead tail dripping with yellow toxins. The Castitas beneath it, a woman by the name of Clarice who had been with the group since the beginning, cowered as she frantically tended to her own bleeding arm. The poison melted away the skin where it touched and she was having a hard time maneuvering so that it wouldn't drip on her, all the while wondering when Dolly's coaxing would prove to be less than persuasive. As a Patientia, and one that had been practicing the art of beastkind whispering for as long as he had been out in the wild, Dolly was positive she could keep this thing from doing any direct damage. But Clarice had to get the hell out of there as soon as her nerves and her burning arm would allow it, for beastkind were rarely predictable, like most things in this new land. It wasn't so new anymore, really, but Dolly was still so confused by its many differing features from the world she remembered. She could think back, like peering through a heavily smudged looking glass, and see all the former facets of the life she once knew. The remnants of familiar objects that had managed to cling to life during The Fall - things like a stop sign, a street lamp, a ramshackle collection of nails and boards that tried to call itself a home - all had the power to clean up a smudge, give her just a little piece of the life she once led. It was when uncontrollable, vicious forces like that of the beastkind entered her life that she found herself again flabbergasted at how the two realms of her memory could even be remotely related. She stared hard at Clarice, willing her to scurry away as soon as she were able.

Clarice was probably the one in the group with the weakest will; her purity in her past life had rewarded her with healing abilities, but Dolly had come to learn that it was most likely her fear that had kept her from pursuing any sort of any scandalous yet rewarding activity most people engaged in. No smoking, no drugs, no drinking, no sex. In a world where moral conviction had become a social phenomena, at least in the few hubs of activity the group had come across, Dolly felt even more like the mascot of nomadic rebellion. She didn't lie about her casual drinking, scarce but still present rug use, and numerous occasions of unprotected, like many who sought to pander to a god Dolly had long considered more akin to Lucifer himself rather than the Virgin Mary so many of her religious brethren had professed to be the true identity of Gaia. People like Clarice, who held onto their virginity and goodliness so desperately tended to give Dolly a terrible impression of what it would be like to deal with then. But, in Clarice's case, Dolly had managed, and she had proven herself able to take a stand and be both a survivor and a useful tool in their exploration. So, she had to live, and maybe even deserved to. Finally, after her wound had sealed, Clarice wiped away her tears and darted off in the opposite direction of the beastkind at Dolly's signal. Grope looked to her for the okay, to charge in with his massive mallet of wood and beat the thing to a pulp. How he managed to heft that thing around one-handed, Dolly could only attribute to the grace of God. She had held the beast at bay as long as she could and relinquished control. It's eyes widened at the sight of the barbarian man charging in, shirtless and with a makeshift cigarette poking out of the corner of his mouth. Dolly smiled as he made short work, assisted by the taunts and jibes of their Benevolentia as she danced around as a distraction.

That night, they feasted on the meat of the creature, purified by Clarice herself. Manually, without magic, and unskillfully with a small carving knife, but she got the job done all the same. Their Benevolentia, Rocky, who could remember much more about the previous life than others, said the creature was most similar to a Scorpion. But, it was much larger and most of its outer shell was made of actual minerals, gemstones that could be crafted into jewelry. Rocky requested that Grope craft her a beautiful necklace out of the purple-blue stone, but he of course gave a quip about his one-hand only being suited for smashing stuff. They had a good laugh and eventually retired. Dolly was quiet, as she was forced to be. Not being able to directly speak made her question everything she considered letting another person know. It made her much more careful and wise in what words she chose and the timing of her responses. She knew how to keep this group afloat, knew how to assess each person and tell them exactly what they needed to hear. They had come to call her mother, or at least Rocky had, being a teenage girl to begin with. Grope was daddy, and he often asked Dolly to help him produce some other little ones. But, she decline with a witty mental comeback, as she always did when deflecting his crude attempts at humor. As she slept, she dreamt of what there was out there to discover, besides all they had so far seen. The Gem Pincer, which they had decided was the most appropriate name and fun to say name, held no recollection of the previous world. Dolly often worried if she remembered less than others. Benevolentia remembered more, but did individual people, regardless of their Virtue, also only remember certain degrees of their past. There was so much she knew would help her find her son, if only she could remember them. Her fiance was still out there somewhere as well, and though all the negative feelings she harbored for him remained, any object of her former life would be a welcome one. So, Dolly daily submitted to what life had in store, which was not a knew occurrence. She watched in silence and waited for the moment she could end this hellish dream and find some bit of normalcy. Three years and not a thing... She was beginning to lose hope.