Cromwell, Fiona

On this night the heart and ideals melt into the darkness

Full Name: Fiona Cromwell
Nationality: English
D.O.B.: June 21
Age: 24 (turning 25 in June)
Gender: female
Height: 5'7
Weight: 131
Hair Color: Black with white streaks
Eye Color: Brown
Blood Type: B positive
Hometown: Liverpool, England (moved to US when she was 6)
Character Description:


Personality: Fiona never seems to really stop. She is constantly flinging herself into a new project to keep herself busy, usually resulting in too many commitments. She likes to think of herself as a generally happy person, and her exuberance can border on frightening. But then she has what she refers to as her “Dark Ages.” The bad days. The days where the world is trapping her to her bed, choking her. The weight of the air is too much to bear. She lives in extremes. Today is the best day ever. She is simply going to die from this cold. She makes snap judgments because that’s all she frankly has time for.
Role: Patient
Other comments: Suffers from Bipolar II disorder with rapid cycling, but has gone undiagnosed, allowing it to spiral out of control. Sporadic self-mutilation, brought to hospital after multiple arrests for public drunkenness.

RP Example:

Fiona rummaged through her bag, looking for a pack of cigarettes. She knew she had packed them. She just knew it. The police had been kind enough to let her pack a bag for her stay this time, surely they’d be nice enough to let her have a smoke. Strange though, the fact that she had a packed bag this time. They must be locking her up for real this time. She hadn’t even been that drunk this time! She was still bounding with enough energy to throw together the best bag anyone could pack for when they were off to jail. She had flitted through her house, finding packing this bag to be almost an amusing game. Her company did not seem to share her amusement, however. They had just looked on with stern expressions, not even cracking a smile when she cracked a joke about offering them drinks. Still, they hadn't stopped her from packing and had even offered to carry her bag to the car. She sighed in frustration. The cigarettes weren’t there. And neither was her flask. What was she supposed to do with herself on the ride to the station? She leaned forward, tapping on the glass.

"Excuse me? Hey, weneedtoturnaroundrightnow." The words tumbled out, each trying to race the next to be the first one out, not wanting to linger in her mind for too long. She didn’t blame them. Her mind wasn’t a place for the weak to remain. The officers just chuckled, shaking their heads.

Fiona let out an exasperated sigh that was nearly a screech. She tried to sit still sullenly with her arms crossed, but the stillness clawed at her skin, her thoughts determined to claw their way out of her. She fidgeted with her clothes, glancing out the window, realizing that they weren’t actually heading toward the station. By the time she had figured out where they were going, it was too late; the police car pulled up in front of the dreaded psychiatric hospital.

"WAIT. No, I can’t be here. I have things to do. I’mnotcrazyI’mnotadrunkIswearI’llgotothosesillymeeti-" She stopped short when the police pulled her out of the car and through the doors. She continued to struggle against them, but it wasn’t with all her force. There was no use claiming you weren’t crazy once you were through the doors. Everyone said that in this place. That wasn't how she was going to get out. She would have to put on her best calm face. But not too calm. She couldn't be creepy or else they'd keep her for sure. She glanced around at the faces of the staff, pleading with her eyes. But what she got back her blank, unamused, almost bored expressions. She turned her face away, towards her dragging feet, blinking rapidly to let the reality set in. It was a good thing she had packed for prison.

Accepted, welcome to the Hill of Acropolis. Enjoy your stay.

Removed due to inactivity.