Post by Taffy on May 18, 2009 23:46:18 GMT -5
The picture isn't perfect, but this is basically what Shay looks like...
Interview Tiem!!!
What is your full name?
Do I have to? *sigh* Alright, my full name is Samantha Elizabeth Robbins.
What is your nickname?[/size][/b]
Shay. S-H-A-Y. I refuse to be called anything else. Not Sam, not Sammy, not Samantha (well, unless you happen to be my mother, which you're not).
How old are you?[/size][/b]
If you want to be really specific, I'm 17 and 6 months. My half birthday was yesterday. *grin*
What is your gender?[/size][/b]
Wait, you're seriously asking that question? You can't tell I'm a girl just by looking at me? Wow, I didn’t think I looked that much like a guy.
…Just kidding. xD
How tall are you?[/size][/b]
Well, at least it's a better question than the last one. I haven't measured myself in a while, but I'd say I'm around 5'7'', 5’8''. Maybe a little shorter. I’m a decent height, alright? What kind of interview is this, anyway?
Can you give us a description of yourself?
Well let’s see, I’m a GIRL. In case you didn’t notice. My boyfriend happens to think I’m drop-dead gorgeous, but…well, obviously he’s biased. Although I do love my hair. It’s bright golden blonde, and completely natural, despite what everyone else thinks about me dying it to make myself “look pretty”. No, I did that by adding several electric blue streaks to it (which are uber spiffy, by the way). I also dyed the bottom layer of my hair entirely that colour, because I could.
My eyes are slate gray, which I’ve been told is an unusual colour for a blonde. But hey, I got my eyes from my mother (now she is the gorgeous one).
What else? I have an interesting skin complex, being the birth child of a Texan father and an English mother (yes, my family tree is quite unusual). I tan easily, though I don’t burn (a useful trait), but my skin is generally on the pale side. I don’t really care how my skin looks, as long as I can keep my face clean.
…Oh, body complex? Well, what can I say? I’m not the most athletic girl you’ll ever meet, but I do like to keep myself pretty in shape. You’d think a video game-obsessed girl with a Pocky fetish would be all fat and gross and ugly—but haha! I was gifted with a love for physical activity. Basically, I like doing anything fun that involves being active. And hey, video games works your fingers, doesn’t it? (Or maybe you have to be super hardcore like me to achieve that.)
What are you wearing?[/size][/b]
Since Sam—err, I mean Shay finds it a little awkward to describe her own clothing, I’ll take over for that part.
Setting: Zombies have been roaming the streets for exactly three days. This is where the story starts out. Funnily enough, even a zombie apocalypse can’t stop Shay from picking out her attire in a specific manner.
As the sun set below the rooftops, Shay tugged on her black pixie boots, which fit snugly around her feet. Covering her legs was a pair of black-and-white striped stockings, over which she had pulled a rather worn pair of blue shorts, complete with silver belt buckle. Up top she wore a black shirt with the words “GAMER” in bright green block letters across the front, a particular favourite of hers for the golden Triforce symbol on the back. This part of the shirt was covered by a loose-fitting black hoodie with a rather extravagant Organization XIII symbol in dark red on the front and all of its members on the back.
WHAT, SON???
What equipment do you have?[/b]
Alright, I’m back! What? No, I didn’t take a pocky break! What makes you think that? *hides empty pocky box*
Ah, this is the super cool part. Dad’s a big Texan, and I mean that in the nicest way—once you get past his completely southern drawl. But I say cool because coming from Texas, he has a wicked hunting rifle (you know, the one where you pull the trigger and BLAM! Insta-kill!). Mind you, it takes a while to reload, but I can always smash zombie heads with it while doing so.
I also have some jewel-encrusted knives that were keepsakes from my mother. Apparently they’ve been handed down in her family for the past five generations. Or…something like that. Anyway, there are two of them and let me tell you, they’re wicked sharp. Of course, I only use those in emergencies. The rest of the time I keep them in my pockets (sheathed in leather so I don’t accidentally stab myself to death while I’m running. Eesh, talk about unpleasant).
Oh, and I also have a mini backpack in which I managed to stuff all of my essentials: first aid kit, pocket journal, DS, emergency boxes of poky, extra ammo, pepper spray…
Yes, everything in there is completely necessary. Now shut up.
What’s your history like?[/size][/b]
Oh boy, what a story to tell. I guess I should start with my parents.
Elizabeth Anne Taylor was a beautiful woman from London who went overseas for a while to check up on her father (who, for some reason unfathomable to her, chose to retire in Texas). While there, she met my dad, Michael David Robbins. He was a pureblood Texan, his family tree dating back to when the pioneers first discovered the land. Or so he tells me, anyway.
Well, they fell in love and got married, but for the life of them couldn’t decide where to live. Elizabeth didn’t want to stay in hot, sunny Texas, and Michael didn’t much fancy moving all the way to England (even if it was to be with the love of his life). So, they came to an agreement. Elizabeth would stay in America to care for her father, but she and Michael would move up north, where the weather was cooler and more tolerable.
A year or so later they had me, and what a child I was. Even now my accent turns heads, not to mention my mixed up speech, where “bloody” and “y’all” sometimes come out in the same sentence. My friends got used to it, though—but they still make fun of me sometimes. I’m not sure I believe Ryan when he says my accent is adorable. Oh, Ryan is my boyfriend by the way. Here’s the ironic tale of our last meeting:
I knew it was coming. I had known for a month at least. But that didn’t make the thought of Ryan leaving any more bearable. Just thinking that I wouldn’t see his face for who-knows-how-long was almost more than I could stand. But the truth was, he had to go. His father had apparently found his mother (a severe alcoholic who had gone missing before I met Ryan) somewhere in New York City, and needed Ryan’s help in taking care of her for a while. “Until we can get her back here,” that’s what he told me.
I met him at the airport for a last goodbye. I’ll have you know I’m not the crying type, but I couldn’t help the waterworks when I saw Ryan with all his travel gear. I would have laughed at his startled expression when he saw my face had I not been so depressed about him leaving.
“Hey, it’s alright Shay,” he told me, holding me in a tight hug. “It’s not as if I’m leaving forever. Just for a couple months, or so. You’ll be alright.”
“Sure,” I muttered. “Just make sure you come back, okay?”
“I promise.” Ryan lifted my chin, flashing that smile that I loved so much. “A zombie apocalypse couldn’t keep me from coming back to you.”
As cheesy (and maybe a little creepy) as that sounds, those were literally the last words he said to me. See what I meant by ironic? The infection started spreading only a few days after Ryan’s departure. I tried to contact him through every way possible, but to no success. I can only hope he’s okay.
What kind of zombie would you most likely be?[/size][/b]
For real? *grin* Well, I don’t know about “most likely,” but if I was infected I would totally be a boomer. I mean, throwing up on people and blinding them with my vomit? Nothing’s cooler.
…What? You think I’d be a witch? Hunter?? Just because I’m a blonde with a hoodie? Gee thanks, guys…
No, Matt, I would not be a tank! Butt out, will you? This is MY interview!
Anything else you’d like to add?[/b]
Looks like Shay is going to teach Matt a lesson in special zombies…so Taffy is taking over once again! Just a couple of interesting tidbits I thought you might like to know:
-Elizabeth’s father, Shay’s grandfather, was her only grandparent still alive by the time she reached 15. She helped out in caring for him—until her half birthday, when he turned into an infected. This was the first contact Shay had with a zombie. Both her parents were out, leaving her to deal with zombie grandpa on her own. Much to her remorse, the only way to survive was to kill him. She hasn’t heard anything from either of her parents since the incident.
-Shay wasn’t in band, but she might as well have been because she hung out with them all the time. It helped that she was dating one of the most popular kids in the band—everyone automatically accepted her, even the directors.
-According to Shay, pocky is mandatory. And video games are good for you.
Oh, and I seriously hope the love scene wasn't too icky to read. Dx I'm sorry if it burns anyone's eyes out with its crappiness. Forgive meeeeeeee!
But I had to include her boyfriend. ;3 I got plans for Shay, yupyup.[/center]
