Welcome to Gaia! ::

Name: Izolda Gorski
Age: 18
Height: 5’2”
Weight: 140
Appearance: To be very blunt, Izolda is not at all athletic... or skinny... or very tall. In fact, she's rather frumpy as far as the body goes. If you were to ask her, she would say that the only part of her body she liked was her shapely legs- they were at least adequate, and long for a person of her height. Her face was rather pretty, if a bit plump. Her cheeks and nose are always a light shade of red, giving her the merry look famous of her Polish ancestry. Her lips are pale pink, and pump, and her outset, rather small eyes a light gray.

Her dark blonde hair is fine and straight, curling a bit at the ends if it grows out too long. She prefers it in a pixie cut that ends just above her ears, just because she is too lazy to maintain it as it gets longer and more tangled.

Style: Abhorring labels and factory-made clothing with a passion, she makes her own creative (if a bit eccentric) wardrobe with many mismatched, patched-and-pinned pieces. Naturally, it is not a very big wardrobe, as it has to fit in her many bags-o-luggages. Normal for her would be a long, elastic-waist peasant skirt- with buttons at the hem to gather up into Aladdin-esque trousers, and an ill-fitting tank sewn from patches of random fabric.

A pair of rather worn deer hide boots, tanned and made herself from old work boot soles and the skin of a road kill deer, are her only shoes. When it gets too hot for the boots, she simply goes barefoot. A knit beanie of different hues of green, stolen a few years ago from a street vendor, graces her head no matter what she wears.

Personality: Izolda had always been a quiet little bookworm, the type that would rather spend the day at the library, pouring over old Greek myth than playing kickball outside. She always has at least three books with her, all accounts of fantastical worlds and supernatural stories of horror.

Social situations are a problem, for her many years of home schooling severely crippled any social skills. She deals with others in a wary and suspicious demeanor, only talking to others to get a job or earn money, which is very seldom. She seeks to find companionship in her books, replacing human contact with the ink that fuels her rabid delusions.

She also has problems with anger management. Frustration and violence come easily to her, and many an unwary vagrant has found himself writhing on the ground in pain under the unwavering pummeling of a surprisingly strong target. Her trust is hard-earned and subject to change with the most innocent of statements.

Disputing her beliefs is suicide. Any statement that challenges her mental state or the existence of the supernatural will be met with a venomous lashing of her tongue and the eminent assault of the speaker. The true reason for this is that deep down, she fears being wrong. She fears finding out that she really is mentally unstable.

Likes: Fantasy, biking, books, mysteries, ancient Greek myth, birds, isolation
Dislikes: Other people interrupting her reading, nosy people, slow people, people in general, flat tires, feeling tired

Fears: Being committed to an insane asylum; getting trapped in a small, dark place, most likely a cave; being taken back home; being found insane or wrong; losing her freedom

Life Goal(s): Her only somewhat goal in life is to prove beyond scientific and her own doubt the existence of any magic, any fantasy world.

Early History: Izolda was born in Warsaw, Poland, to a reading and literature teacher and a paleontologist. From the moment out of the womb, she was a particularly aggressive child; kicking and screaming, even gracing her father with a black eye at the tender age of four. Both of her parents were prim and proper, her mother a teacher at the prestigious St. Paul’s Academy for Gifted Young Men and her father a renowned paleontologist and pioneer in his field. Embarrassed at the girl’s rebellious and brutal nature, they kept her within the walls of their cavernous mansion and its grounds. As soon as Izolda came of schooling age, her mother retired to home school her daughter. Her mother’s shrewd wit was obviously well-instilled in the girl, and she learned quickly. She had the reading and writing aptitude of an adult by the time she was six, and would’ve been quite promising were it not for her mental instability.

On the summer of her seventh birthday, her father was killed, crushed in a rockslide at a dig site in Ethiopia. Even for seeing him so seldom, it was a cruel blow to Izolda’s rapidly deteriorating state of sanity. Her mother, sent into a spiraling depression, was no help and became apathetic, spending most of her time moping about the house and staring out the windows, stroking old bones from his private collection. Izolda was sent to a public school, and found herself in an alienating world of stress and frustration. She became even more socially crippled, finding her only friendship in an equally crazy librarian who became the fuel to her fire, feeding her book after book of escapist fiction.

Eventually, the old woman retired, moving to some far-flung country. Izolda mourned the disappearance of her only friend, and became even more violent, even being sent home after breaking a classmate’s nose. Her mother, of course, had nothing to say. She was not more than a vegetable by now. With nothing tying her to this world any longer, she was gone by the next day.
Present Life: Izolda now travels the continent on her bike, following leads on reported supernatural happenings on hotspots all across Europe. You name it, she’s been there. Tara, Stone Henge, Lake Loch Ness… All of them dead ends, of course. She has vowed to find proof. Proof of magic, proof of her sanity, proof of worlds in which she could be happy. She is armed to the teeth with all the skills necessary to survive on her own. She owns a small rifle, for hunting when she has no money for food; a knife for skinning and gutting; flint and tinder for fires.

When winter strikes, she finds a small village to shack up in for the cold months. She finds work chopping wood and training animals, or in guiding hunters in tracking deer. All she asks in return is a warm barn to sleep in and that no one engage her in conversation. She only uses the most basic of words in normal speech, masking her crazed intelligence with the musk of backwoods idiocy. Often she finds herself the brunt of many a drunken dimwit’s catcalls and lust, and many a drunken dimwit find themselves the brunt of a vicious beating. She knows never to go to the same town twice.

She insists on nursing to health any injured animal, and often she has two or three patients traveling about with her. She finds animals “more companionable… than humans, purer than humans, always so compliant and quiet.” A raven with a broken leg, who she named Jale, took a shine to her and is her constant companion, present on her shoulder or head nearly every day.

Getting to Taurica Nesos: Izolda stumbled upon Taurica Nesos whilst investigating a number of mysterious (and she hoped, magical) disappearances. People from many different countries were vanishing, falling from the records as years passed by, forgotten by families and friends. Izolda had reason to believe they were all converging on one spot- an undisclosed region off the coast of Ukraine. A little more digging discovered one of the Kubri off of the island, and the interrogation began. He explained to her that her place of interest was in fact Taurica Nesos, a retreat. Rather crestfallen, but curious of this ‘retreat’ (even she got tired of wandering), she allowed him to guide her back to Taurica Nesos, if only for a well-needed rest.

Preferred Species: None whatsoever. Go crazy.
Sample RPs: None yet, o’ course… I'll get on that.


((Gyah... I feel so inadequate. I feel like something's... off. Well. Hopefully another person's input will help.))
((...And I hope there aren't any hard feelings...))