Post by Mercy Conway on Nov 7, 2014 11:54:56 GMT -5
Mercy Conway
Full Name- Mercy Eloise Conway
Gender- Female
Age- Twenty-Five
Date of Birth- 08.18.1989
Sexual Orientation- Pansexual
Location- Transient
Celebrity Claim- Poots, Imogen
What should we call you?- duke
Play anyone else?- Not anymore.
Have You Read the Rules?- wait, gotta go milk that cat first
Personality-
Mercy is an odd girl, always moving and never really stopping for any given time. She’s the type who thinks that the world moves far too slow to see everything in one go. Radically impatient to a fault, Mercy will do anything she can to keep her life moving. To stop for her would be to miss out on all of the wonderful things that she could be doing instead. It’s because of this that she has been known to have a reputation for being fairly flighty when trouble comes calling. Even before everything, she was always a girl who could never truly face the problems face on, and instead preferred to put as much distance between herself and the problems as possible.
Getting to know Mercy can be remarkably difficult. The Irish lass is the type to put up a million walls as soon as you start to chip away at the first. She’s not all that known for being the sit-around-the-campfire-and-share-stories type. In fact, if it were up to her, she’d constantly like to be left alone. Over the years, she’s come to realise that people only slow her down to a disastrous degree. Of course she will indulge in talking to people from time to time due to the fact that she is possibly one of the only people in the world that likes small talk.
Compassion is perhaps Mercy’s one true weakness (or so she tells herself). Whilst she’s not the type to open up to people, she can’t help but feel sympathetic when people open up and share something with her. Sure, she’s not the best shoulder to cry on, but she does at least make a decent attempt to listen and tries to offer a solution to your problem. The reason that it classifies as her greatest weakness, is that she carries it with her. She’s like an emotional sponge of sorts; taking in everyone else’s problems, but never truly getting the chance to relieve herself of her own emotions.
Regardless of that though, Mercy has proved to be a very capable liar. Doesn’t matter if you’re the pope or the sleaziest scum on the earth, Mercy will not hesitate to bullshit you. Lies are Mercy’s way of coping with people and life in general. Most people who actually do know her can’t tell the difference between one of her lies and the truth.
Abilities/Powers/Skills-
Weather Manipulation;Ever since a few weeks ago, Mercy has found that she has an uncanny ability to shape and form the weather to her own liking. Her ability allows her to sense what the weather may be like, as well as manipulate it entirely if it doesn’t suit what she wants at a certain point in time.
By changing certain meteorological patterns, Mercy can create anything from sunshine, and a gentle breeze, to full scale snow, lightening and on occasion, hurricanes powerful enough to stop everything. These changes are easy to plot due to the fact that they happen almost instantly, being able to whirl up a bout of heavy rain in less than a minute.
When it comes to creating her fully fledged storms, Mercy has a limited amount of control in that she can tell it how hard to batter down, and which direction. Even when it comes to lightning, she can tell it where to go and how hard to hit, but if a person is able to move out of the way quick enough, they could be safe. Everything from that point on though is basically up in the air. As such, this ability is used sparsely to create anything that might cause harm to others.
Atmospheric Adaption;A side effect of her initial ability, Mercy’s lungs are built to the point where they can withstand a natural lack of oxygen for an extended period of time. As such, her ability allows her to breath normally whilst in the middle of a hurricane, or underwater, or even in a room with a distinct lack of oxygen.
Limits-
Weather Manipulation;As with most users of this ability, Mercy’s control over her ability vanishes whenever she is put under some sort of emotional distress. It might be one of the reasons why she rarely gets angry. All she knows is that when she feels an excess of a certain emotion, her ability seems to activate of its own accord. When she’s feeling sad to an extreme, it will become torrential downpour and thunderstorms; when she’s angry, it’ll be more of a hurricane, obliterating everything in its path. The amount of distress she feels relates closely with the instability of the weather condition she has created.
Due to the fact that she cannot manipulate the weather without the right conditions, a valid atmosphere and space is a must. Whilst it’s never come to her being in a vacuum, she’s well aware of the fact that her ability will cease to work under such conditions. Another thing to note is that she is capable of creating miniature storms within certain spaces, but in order to grow, they must be exposed to the atmosphere.
Perhaps the biggest flaw with her ability is stopping. It’s one of the main demons in her head. She knows she has to stop at some point, and that eventually the storm will die down once out of her radius of control, but getting it to stop by herself has always proved to be slightly more than challenging. When it comes to mild showers, she can stop them given a certain amount of time and effort, but stopping blizzards, storms, and hurricanes proves to be far too much for her to handle.
Mercy is always at the eye anything she creates. The trouble with her ability is that she needs to be somewhere in order to affect the climate of that area, and even then, it stops after a five mile radius. Even when she creates lightning storms, there is no gaurentee that where she is standing won’t be hit, though she may be able to sense when a lightning bolt is coming.
Atmospheric Adaption;Whilst Mercy might be able to breathe during the worst of conditions, there are still rules that even she must abide by, the strictest being that she still needs something to breathe. Her lungs are fine with a lack of oxygen, but once they are confronted by a vacuum, her ability shorts out and she is left defenceless, unable to breathe like everyone else in a similar situation.
Another thing to take into consideration is that she needs her lungs for this ability. If they were punctured, in any way, then Mercy reverts back to breathing in the same fashion as everyone else.
Appearance- At five feet and four inches, Mercy is everything that a dainty Irish girl ought to be. With her sleek demeanour and her light weight of 110lbs, she is more than capable of bringing out femininity whilst also achieving ferocity via her personality. Porcelain skin seems to match blonde hair, a genetic throwback from her roots. With piercing green eyes, she is ready to latch onto anything that could give her an out.
Whilst most people would expect her to wear dresses and frilly things (lord knows her mother tried), Mercy feels more comfortable wearing some band shirt and a pair of jeans. You will rarely ever see the girl without her trademark black leather boots, prime and ready to kick someone in the ass if need be.
Faction- Chaotic Villain
Birthplace- Limerick, Ireland
Mother- Molly Conway – 54 – Housewife – Civilian
Father- Harry Conway – 56 – IT Technician – Civilian
Siblings-
- Owen Conway – 34 – Barkeep – Civilian
- Kyle Conway – 28 – Air Traffic Controller – Civilian
- Jake Conway – 25 – Music Producer – Civilian
Spouse / Partner- N/A
Children- N/A
History-
She was never more loved than she had been in that tiny little house in Ireland. Her mother had always wanted a daughter, and after bearing her husband three boys, she finally had her wish in the form of Mercy, a name which would become fitting of her personality. Over the years it would become fairly clear that in fact Mercy was not her mother’s saving grace.
Even growing up, Mercy had always found herself to be more daddy’s girl than anything else. There was a tomboyish recklessness that proved itself before she even had the strength to walk on her own two feet. Most of the time, her mother would turn a blind eye to it. In future, she would attempt to wean those ways out of her daughter, doing all the things she had always imagined doing.
When she was old enough to walk and talk of her own accord, she let it be known that she was not the daughter her mother had wanted. She was far from the dainty porcelain figure that her mother had always dreamed of having. As a child, she was often being scolded, getting into arguments and fights without thinking. She had adopted a method she had seen by her brothers years earlier; throw punches first, ask questions later.
By the time she was in school, Mercy was known for being a little bit of a troublemaker. Her mother would not stand for it at all. Her mother just wanted the perfect daughter. “Girls use words” Mercy remembers her mother saying to her at a young age. “Actions are for boys.”
She was five and yet she knew there was a problem with that. However, her mother had just created a far greater problem, inadvertently telling her daughter that it was okay to lie. What she started was the beginning of what would eventually become to be known as Mercy’s greatest skill; deception.
It started of simply enough, a little lie here, a little lie there. Sometimes the teachers would see through her lies, more often than not the younger children did. As she progressed through the years, her ability to make grand lies and spread them like they were the truth just sort of stuck with her.
Elsewhere, her mother was having a bit of trouble dealing with her daughter becoming a teenager. She knew it was only a matter of time before her daughter rebelled against her and did her own thing, no longer being this thing she could form and create. All she could hope for was that she didn’t develop some sort of identity until she was much older, possibly in her twenties. In hindsight, she should have known better than that.
Resentment was what took Mercy through her teenage years. Teenage rebellion and Mercy got on like a house on fire, much to her mother’s dismay. As days went by, the two women became increasingly indifferent to each other and the relationship that they had shared had now become somewhat strained.
It all reached a climax when Mercy was eighteen. Her mother was adamant that she go on and do something with her life, whilst all Mercy wanted was to run in any which direction. Life was just too short to learn a skill and then keep some boring mundane job until you reached old age. She was convinced that there had to be something more than that to life. Those were all the really juvenile thoughts of a young woman who knew very little about the world around her.
On one particular night a few weeks ago, more words were exchanged between Mercy and her mother. The angrier Mercy got, the more the storm brewed outside. The more she fought against her angrier, the more ferocious the winds became. The glass broke in from the hail, the floor creaked from the strain of holding back against the wind, and before she could even comprehend what was happening, lightning had struck her home, igniting it in a fireball.
Instead of facing her own problems, Mercy couldn’t do anything but run. It was her out. Her chance to be free in a world that tried to confine her. There was so much to be seen and so much to be done. Why stop when she could keep moving. With nothing on her but a bag and an idea in her head, she ran to America, hoping for something more.
Sample RP-
There was a calm stillness that seemed to fill the air of New York. Birds were soaring through the skies as if they had just been untethered, reaching new heights and not daring to dive in fear of not coming back up. They ducked and weaved past skyscrapers, trying to avoid the worst and achieve the best at the same time.
It was an undisturbed bliss, the only type of bliss that someone like Mercy could truly understand.
New York for her was just another stop. It was a place to recuperate and pick up supplies. There was nothing special in New York worth seeing. Knowing herself though, she would stay for a while longer in pursuit of others like her; those who could master the elements and bring down wrath. There was still so much she didn’t understand. She needed to know everything about herself, about this demon that lurked inside of her.
She couldn’t have another close call. Not after Miami.
It was an accident, honestly. She had no intentions of causing the bright and clear day to turn into a literal shit-storm of hail. It had rained from the heavens like millions of tiny little bullets. Thinking about her home had clearly caused her much sadness, a sadness that she was not willing to invest in again.
With the whole special community outed for what they were, it seemed truly unfair to leave the world’s most dangerous power set in the hands of someone who clearly didn’t know what she was doing.
She’d managed to escape just as soon as she had heard the cry. “It’s her…” the little girl screamed amid the deadly winds. “…She’s the one doing this.”
It had been a lucky escape. She’d managed to calm herself down, but from what she heard, the storm did not die down until a few days later, the damage having already been done by the time Mercy had a chance to leave the state. Florida had seemed far too warm for her anyway.
Mercy would admit that she liked New York much more.
