Post by Catherine Olive Ross on Apr 1, 2010 15:04:32 GMT
Of course you are approved 
-JT
Account E-Mail: It's Addie. Account name is "catherineoliveross".
Name: Catherine Olive Ross (also known as "Catty," "Rose" and "Roses")
Nationality:
Scottish-British
Character History:
Humans are not always defined by their predecessors.
One's parents, one's mother and father, need not be an influence in one's life in order for that someone to succeed. Catherine Olive Ross, born on May 14th, 1924, is one such character - she was raised by her maternal aunt, one Larissa Abigail Ross, after Catherine's own mother, Caroline Amelia, was unable to. She does not know much of her father, other than by the name "Harold Ockley", and she has only ever known the sights of her small town and nearby London. Her family know her as "Catty", due to her mispronouncing the name "Cathy" at a young age in reference to herself.
The girl's knowledge of her parentage is vague; according to her aunt - once Larissa felt Catty was old enough to know, of course - the transfer of guardianship came about as a necessity. With her husband walking out on her and no money for a steep medical bill, as Catherine was ill with an infection in both ears at the time, Caroline returned to her family's native Scotland in order to take a job offered by her paternal family. With her daughter too ill to make the journey, as well as the woman forced to work long hours in order to make a living, Caroline left her baby with Larissa so that the girl would not have to be sent to an orphanage. Larissa raised Catty as if she were her own daughter, Larissa's own son, Byron James, taking up the role as bigger brother; this continued even when Caroline did not return. And she never would.
Caroline's disappearance was attributed to the rough neighbourhood the woman's place of work was in. Being black and female, the authorities concluded that she had been a target of racial and/or sexist hatred, and offed one day by some unknown character. Her whereabouts unknown after leaving work one night, Larissa adopted Catherine into the family, who was two years old by then. The young Ross was deaf, the infection having done enough damage to rob her of all hearing; had Caroline been able to get better help sooner for Catherine, then the illness would have not had such a serious outcome. Larissa, however, did not let this fact make her love Catherine less, and Byron stepped in as well to help with his cousin's new challenge. Old enough to be considered a man, thus now the man of the house, he worked at a London factory, where the noise rendered most unable to hear as they worked. To compensate, Byron, as well as a few other employees, had taught themselves to lip read while at their posts. So that she would not be hindered by her lack of hearing, Byron would show Catherine how to do the same - that way, she could still a hold a conversation with someone as if she still could listen.
School was difficult. Her hearing troubles meant that she did not always hear her lessons, and God forbid if the teacher turned her back while still talking. Catherine also turned out to be left-handed, which meant the ruler was often brought down; in those days, left-handedness was seen as improper, a sign of wickedness due to old superstitions. Such treatment while she did her lessons, and the resulting poor penmanship as she struggled using her right hand, led to Catherine loathing the act of writing. Even writing down a few sums in mathematics stirred her indignation, and she tended to focus on subjects of a more literary nature - she excelled in reading and memorization as a result. Byron used this to his advantage as he taught Catherine his skill, roughly sketching down the positions of one's lips to the sounds they pronounced. The pair even made a game of it - for every lip-read word Catherine learned, Byron would mark the date on a calendar; if Catherine could learn the next word before or on the next month's same days, she would get half a pound from Byron.
Despite the racial issues of the day, Catherine found her niche, befriending a few of the local black boys in her small town, and maybe one or two of the girls. Larissa and Byron were both surprised, as they expected Catty to find more female friends; boys and girls mingling, after all, were not always innocent in their interactions. This became especially true as Catherine came into her early teens, where her body began to take its adult form, and tempting thoughts danced in all the teenagers' minds; aunt and cousin made sure to their utmost to educate Catherine on why that was so. Catherine took their words to heart, as well as the warning on what would happen if she succumbed to them, and she remained a good child. Yes, some of her friends took a dodgy path, and she couldn't be their friends anymore or talk to them, but she continued straight and narrowly. It probably helped that she was reminded of her mother, who had become involved with the wrong man, and was forced to leave her baby behind - seeing how immature the boys her age were, Catherine did not want to end up with the same fate.
Catherine's otherwise idyllic life was shattered by Churchill's declaration of war, Germany's invading and sudden bloodlust a shock to the child, who was still studying the Great War in school; she did not know much about the country's itch for vengeance, and nor did she understand it. Byron and Larissa, however, did understand, and in a fit of national pride, the former decided he was to do something. Despite Catherine's pleading and sobs for him not to, Byron enlisted in the British army; he became a driver for supply vehicles, ending up being shipped out to work in the North African campaigns. He was proud of his participation, always boasting in his letters about driving the Nazis out of his ancestors' homeland, especially when he learned of their astoundingly racist policies and beliefs.
Larissa, as expected of all women her age during the war, took up a volunteer position on the Home Front. Catherine would do the same when she was old enough, writing back to Byron and finding a hobby in making preserves. Due to trade being severely hindered by the war efforts, rose hips - the fruit of the rose plant, which could not be eaten raw but used extensively in cooking - were advertised as a substitute for foods such as oranges. High in vitamin C and other nutrients, Catherine found herself saddled with the task of raising, gathering and making food with this fruit, always refining her lip reading in order to get around. Here, due to smelling slightly of the plant's aroma, and often being covered in petals, scratches and leaves after a day of work, she earned the moniker "Rose" (sometimes said as "Roses"), often used by her peers. Despite needing glasses from fourteen years onward, as weak eyes were common in the Ross family, Catherine became highly observant from reading books and the words from people's mouths; it was only a matter of time before she mastered reading body language. There was much woe to those who lied to Catherine, for if they were not trained in the art of the fib, Catherine could pick up on every twitch, every little bead of sweat and nervous fidget. Such a skill proved useful time and time again, especially with the issue of racism - if someone dared to wrong Catherine for her skin tone, she could always point out whether the guilty party was lying to whatever authorities had to become involved. Her observations sometimes got her into trouble, but the times were the times and things weren't always fair.
Writing Sample:
(Scenario: Its night time, and while walking home, you witness as brutal guerrilla attack on the occupation forces main HQ in your town. As the occupation troops burst out to try and hunt down the attackers, you are caught up in the mess, and must flee. What does your character think, and how do they react?)
She couldn't have heard the sirens. She only knew the planes were overhead when Larissa grabbed her by the scruff of her white shirt, frantically dragging her towards the front door of the store. People rushed by her, faces full of fear, frantically clawing their way out of the crowded aisles and into the open streets beyond. Coppers were left and right, directing and redirecting the hordes of terrified Londoners, Catherine just managing to keep on her feet as a large man shoved past her. Quickly throwing herself around a corner, hot on the heels of and free of her aunt's grasp, she managed to get a glimpse of the sky - a V-shaped row of planes flew overhead. Too fast did she move to discern whether they were friend or foe, the sight of the bombing-bound aircraft sending another jolt of adrenaline through her body.
The first boom was a like an earthquake, a handful of nearby buildings disintegrating as they were levelled by the first bomb. Shrapnel flew into the air, as deadly as any bullet as they buried themselves into the flesh of innocent people. Just across the street from where Catherine ran, a woman fell to the ground, dead as dirt with a large splinter through her head. Another felt as a shard of metal buried into his back, and there were those beneath the demolished buildings, either crushed by the debris or pinned helplessly beneath. They had no acknowledgement from Catherine and her aunt, save the knowing that innocent people would die in countless ways during the run, and that the pair was to flee with every ounce of strength and energy they had. If not, then they would not survive, never see another day of rain or shine, fate only knowing whether the last breath was quick or prolonged.
Catherine yelped as she was pitched towards Larissa, the shock of a bomb that had gone off behind her throwing her forward. It felt like a wave was barrelling into her, much like the waves of the local lakes would on windy days, but it was more like a punch than anything else. Breathless, the girl felt her skin sting as she slid across the pavement, the rough cobblestones scraping her flesh, bits of stone, wood and glass stubbornly embedding themselves. Catherine coughed from the impact and the dust, tugged roughly to her feet by her aunt, who was yelling something at her niece that Catherine was too dazed to focus on. Her head was spinning a little, and the rapid, on-and-off movements of Larissa's mouth were too frantic and abrupt for the younger Ross to read. It did not matter anyway, as the young girl was yanked down the street by her sore wrist, which was now scratched and bloody, Larissa's hand digging into Catherine's like cat's claws.
-JT
Account E-Mail: It's Addie. Account name is "catherineoliveross".
Name: Catherine Olive Ross (also known as "Catty," "Rose" and "Roses")
Nationality:
Scottish-British
Character History:
Humans are not always defined by their predecessors.
One's parents, one's mother and father, need not be an influence in one's life in order for that someone to succeed. Catherine Olive Ross, born on May 14th, 1924, is one such character - she was raised by her maternal aunt, one Larissa Abigail Ross, after Catherine's own mother, Caroline Amelia, was unable to. She does not know much of her father, other than by the name "Harold Ockley", and she has only ever known the sights of her small town and nearby London. Her family know her as "Catty", due to her mispronouncing the name "Cathy" at a young age in reference to herself.
The girl's knowledge of her parentage is vague; according to her aunt - once Larissa felt Catty was old enough to know, of course - the transfer of guardianship came about as a necessity. With her husband walking out on her and no money for a steep medical bill, as Catherine was ill with an infection in both ears at the time, Caroline returned to her family's native Scotland in order to take a job offered by her paternal family. With her daughter too ill to make the journey, as well as the woman forced to work long hours in order to make a living, Caroline left her baby with Larissa so that the girl would not have to be sent to an orphanage. Larissa raised Catty as if she were her own daughter, Larissa's own son, Byron James, taking up the role as bigger brother; this continued even when Caroline did not return. And she never would.
Caroline's disappearance was attributed to the rough neighbourhood the woman's place of work was in. Being black and female, the authorities concluded that she had been a target of racial and/or sexist hatred, and offed one day by some unknown character. Her whereabouts unknown after leaving work one night, Larissa adopted Catherine into the family, who was two years old by then. The young Ross was deaf, the infection having done enough damage to rob her of all hearing; had Caroline been able to get better help sooner for Catherine, then the illness would have not had such a serious outcome. Larissa, however, did not let this fact make her love Catherine less, and Byron stepped in as well to help with his cousin's new challenge. Old enough to be considered a man, thus now the man of the house, he worked at a London factory, where the noise rendered most unable to hear as they worked. To compensate, Byron, as well as a few other employees, had taught themselves to lip read while at their posts. So that she would not be hindered by her lack of hearing, Byron would show Catherine how to do the same - that way, she could still a hold a conversation with someone as if she still could listen.
School was difficult. Her hearing troubles meant that she did not always hear her lessons, and God forbid if the teacher turned her back while still talking. Catherine also turned out to be left-handed, which meant the ruler was often brought down; in those days, left-handedness was seen as improper, a sign of wickedness due to old superstitions. Such treatment while she did her lessons, and the resulting poor penmanship as she struggled using her right hand, led to Catherine loathing the act of writing. Even writing down a few sums in mathematics stirred her indignation, and she tended to focus on subjects of a more literary nature - she excelled in reading and memorization as a result. Byron used this to his advantage as he taught Catherine his skill, roughly sketching down the positions of one's lips to the sounds they pronounced. The pair even made a game of it - for every lip-read word Catherine learned, Byron would mark the date on a calendar; if Catherine could learn the next word before or on the next month's same days, she would get half a pound from Byron.
Despite the racial issues of the day, Catherine found her niche, befriending a few of the local black boys in her small town, and maybe one or two of the girls. Larissa and Byron were both surprised, as they expected Catty to find more female friends; boys and girls mingling, after all, were not always innocent in their interactions. This became especially true as Catherine came into her early teens, where her body began to take its adult form, and tempting thoughts danced in all the teenagers' minds; aunt and cousin made sure to their utmost to educate Catherine on why that was so. Catherine took their words to heart, as well as the warning on what would happen if she succumbed to them, and she remained a good child. Yes, some of her friends took a dodgy path, and she couldn't be their friends anymore or talk to them, but she continued straight and narrowly. It probably helped that she was reminded of her mother, who had become involved with the wrong man, and was forced to leave her baby behind - seeing how immature the boys her age were, Catherine did not want to end up with the same fate.
Catherine's otherwise idyllic life was shattered by Churchill's declaration of war, Germany's invading and sudden bloodlust a shock to the child, who was still studying the Great War in school; she did not know much about the country's itch for vengeance, and nor did she understand it. Byron and Larissa, however, did understand, and in a fit of national pride, the former decided he was to do something. Despite Catherine's pleading and sobs for him not to, Byron enlisted in the British army; he became a driver for supply vehicles, ending up being shipped out to work in the North African campaigns. He was proud of his participation, always boasting in his letters about driving the Nazis out of his ancestors' homeland, especially when he learned of their astoundingly racist policies and beliefs.
Larissa, as expected of all women her age during the war, took up a volunteer position on the Home Front. Catherine would do the same when she was old enough, writing back to Byron and finding a hobby in making preserves. Due to trade being severely hindered by the war efforts, rose hips - the fruit of the rose plant, which could not be eaten raw but used extensively in cooking - were advertised as a substitute for foods such as oranges. High in vitamin C and other nutrients, Catherine found herself saddled with the task of raising, gathering and making food with this fruit, always refining her lip reading in order to get around. Here, due to smelling slightly of the plant's aroma, and often being covered in petals, scratches and leaves after a day of work, she earned the moniker "Rose" (sometimes said as "Roses"), often used by her peers. Despite needing glasses from fourteen years onward, as weak eyes were common in the Ross family, Catherine became highly observant from reading books and the words from people's mouths; it was only a matter of time before she mastered reading body language. There was much woe to those who lied to Catherine, for if they were not trained in the art of the fib, Catherine could pick up on every twitch, every little bead of sweat and nervous fidget. Such a skill proved useful time and time again, especially with the issue of racism - if someone dared to wrong Catherine for her skin tone, she could always point out whether the guilty party was lying to whatever authorities had to become involved. Her observations sometimes got her into trouble, but the times were the times and things weren't always fair.
Writing Sample:
(Scenario: Its night time, and while walking home, you witness as brutal guerrilla attack on the occupation forces main HQ in your town. As the occupation troops burst out to try and hunt down the attackers, you are caught up in the mess, and must flee. What does your character think, and how do they react?)
She couldn't have heard the sirens. She only knew the planes were overhead when Larissa grabbed her by the scruff of her white shirt, frantically dragging her towards the front door of the store. People rushed by her, faces full of fear, frantically clawing their way out of the crowded aisles and into the open streets beyond. Coppers were left and right, directing and redirecting the hordes of terrified Londoners, Catherine just managing to keep on her feet as a large man shoved past her. Quickly throwing herself around a corner, hot on the heels of and free of her aunt's grasp, she managed to get a glimpse of the sky - a V-shaped row of planes flew overhead. Too fast did she move to discern whether they were friend or foe, the sight of the bombing-bound aircraft sending another jolt of adrenaline through her body.
The first boom was a like an earthquake, a handful of nearby buildings disintegrating as they were levelled by the first bomb. Shrapnel flew into the air, as deadly as any bullet as they buried themselves into the flesh of innocent people. Just across the street from where Catherine ran, a woman fell to the ground, dead as dirt with a large splinter through her head. Another felt as a shard of metal buried into his back, and there were those beneath the demolished buildings, either crushed by the debris or pinned helplessly beneath. They had no acknowledgement from Catherine and her aunt, save the knowing that innocent people would die in countless ways during the run, and that the pair was to flee with every ounce of strength and energy they had. If not, then they would not survive, never see another day of rain or shine, fate only knowing whether the last breath was quick or prolonged.
Catherine yelped as she was pitched towards Larissa, the shock of a bomb that had gone off behind her throwing her forward. It felt like a wave was barrelling into her, much like the waves of the local lakes would on windy days, but it was more like a punch than anything else. Breathless, the girl felt her skin sting as she slid across the pavement, the rough cobblestones scraping her flesh, bits of stone, wood and glass stubbornly embedding themselves. Catherine coughed from the impact and the dust, tugged roughly to her feet by her aunt, who was yelling something at her niece that Catherine was too dazed to focus on. Her head was spinning a little, and the rapid, on-and-off movements of Larissa's mouth were too frantic and abrupt for the younger Ross to read. It did not matter anyway, as the young girl was yanked down the street by her sore wrist, which was now scratched and bloody, Larissa's hand digging into Catherine's like cat's claws.
