Post by Mirren Fey on Aug 19, 2012 0:55:29 GMT -5
MIRREN BLYTHE FEY
Mirren was born to very young, immature parents, fresh out of Hogwarts. Her mother, Pippen Fey, was only seventeen and her father, David Gregory, was nineteen. But Mirren never got to meet her father, as he disappeared shortly after he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. Pippen, heartbroken and bitter, gave birth just eight short months later. But things were tough on the young mother, and it didn't take long before she left, too, leaving her baby girl in the care of her grandparents.
But Mirren never really got the chance to mourn the loss of her parents as she wasn't born yet when her father left and just months old when her mother took off as well. She was raised by her loving, doting grandparents, and though she did ask questions about her parents the older she got, she never really was very interested in them. She figured since they'd left her, they weren't worth fretting over anyways. So she didn't. Some think this is where her fear of getting attached to people and things stemmed. And it very well might be the root of the problem, though Mirren will deny it to her grave. She refuses to believe her parents had any role in how she turned out, though others see it differently, and it may be they who are right.
She was raised in the small, sleepy town of Surrey, just a short drive from bustling London, though Mirren rarely visited the bigger city. The traffic and hordes of people never interested her. She much prefered the quiet streets of her small town where she had the freedom to roam and do as she pleased without worrying about getting lost or kidnapped or worse. She had a relatively uneventful childhood, though her aloof, disinterest in most things did fascinate and annoy some. To most, she was just Mirren. Quiet, polite, and more of a wallflower.
That is, until she discovered her love of dance. Starting at age six, Mirren became obsessed with dance of all kinds. There wasn't a style she didn't love, though it soon became apparent that she excelled in the styles of ballet and jazz. Her life revolved around dance, she practically lived in the studio. It didn't matter what she was doing there, whether it was watching other dancers rehearse, learning new routines, or practicing difficult ballet manuevers until her legs turned to jelly and her toes started to bleed. Her goal was Julliard in New York when she was old enough, not to go to Hogwarts and practice magic like other young pure bloods her age. She could have cared less about her bloodlines, which were strong and pure on both sides, something others would kill for. All Mirren cared about was getting that turn sequence perfect or leap just so, so she would have the best chance possible at getting into the school of her dreams.
But, she was a pure blood wizard, and her heritage wouldn't be denied, no matter how much she would have liked it to. Her powers started to show the day of her eleventh birthday, much to her dismay and grandparents delight. No matter how hard she tried to hide it so she could claim to be a squib and go on with her dance career with nothing to stop her, it would not be hidden, and her invitation to attend Hogwarts that fall came only a day later.
Though she was soon shipped off the misterious boarding school, Mirren refused to give up on her dreams of becoming a dancer and continued to practice, dedicating more of her time to dance rather than her magical studies. Though this irritated her grandparents and some of her teachers, nothing they tried could make her stop. She skimmed by in her first year of classes, only consenting to work harder in her studies when her grandparents threatened to mess up any opportunity that came her way to go to Julliard if she didn't.
Since, Mirren has become an average student, not the best, but certainly not the worst, and still hangs on to her hopes of a career in dance when she graduates from Hogwarts in two years. There are many that find her strange for her dream, but she really doesn't care.
Mirren's attitude comes off as more "devil-may-care" than anything else. Nothing really rattles her and she's fairly laid back and relaxed all the time. If something doesn't work, oh well, she's probably already moved on. She's not one to dwell on things or drive herself crazy over small details, though this can be her downfall. Sometimes she comes off as if she doesn't care at all and she never lets herself get too attached to anything, so she rarely puts her full effort into or finishes what she starts. At the first sign of danger or a problem, she's gonna cut her losses and leave. So don't expect her to stick around when times get tough. It takes a hell of a lot to convince her to stick around long enough to see things through to the end, and she'll usually only do it if it involves protecting those she loves. Otherwise, its "see ya later" and she's gone without a second thought.
She tends to laugh at serious situations and try to make light of them more than anything rather than actually deal with the problem. She isn't much for confrontation, though she will fight if the cause strikes her fancy (mainly if its defending those she loves or something she cares deeply about). It takes a lot to get her hackles up, and when you do, don't expect a big blow up, because it won't happen. The angrier she gets, the quieter she gets until she's an icy wall of silence that has people shrinking from her as effectively as yelling and screaming would. She's quiet about her revenge, so watch your back if you know you've pissed her off. But don't expect things to blow over in a couple weeks, either. She can hold a grudge for a long, long time if need be until the time is right to get that person back.
She's dedicated to few things in her life, but when she is, its almost always for life. She's like a bulldozer when she wants something. Nothing and no one is going to keep her from what she wants, though it may take her awhile to realize exactly what that is. She has a hard time making decisions because she rarely gets attached to anything, so much of the time it may take her months to decide if she likes someone or doesn't. She can be stubborn as hell, though, when she does figure something out, because as soon as she sets her mind to something, that's the way its going to be. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Don't try to change her mind because she'll only dig her heels in more.
Mirren likes to laugh and be with people, and she's loyal to a fault when you become her friend. She'll protect and defend you to the grave if she has to. Though it takes a lot to gain her trust as its not easily earned, once you have it, its for life. The only way you'll lose it is if you do something truly atrocious that even she can't forgive. Mirren is a forgiving soul for the most part, unless you do something to hurt those she's closest to. She tends to give people the benefit of the doubt a lot of the time. But once you've broken her trust, don't expect to get it back any time soon, if ever. Her motto is "forgive, but don't forget". And she doesn't.
She has a quirky, sarcastic sense of humor and way of looking at life, which irritates some, but she really doesn't give a damn. She's going do what she wants, to hell with you. She has a quiet sort of confidence that can't be mistaken even though she doesn't prance around and put herself out there for everyone to see. She doesn't take any crap from anyone and will dish it right back out though most of what people say to her just rolls right off her back.
Lillian's track record wasn't the greatest when it came to men and dating. Most had turned out to be assholes as she'd said before, or if they weren't assholes, they were spineless momma's boys that she couldn't stand to be around. Or something akin to that. Of course, she'd never given a thought to the type of guys she'd dated or where she'd found them. Most were either flighty bullriders, ropers, or bronc riders she'd met at rodeos, or they were frequents at local bars where the bartender knew what type of drink to bring and how many, at what time because they'd been in there so often. Very rarely had she ever dated a guy that she hadn't met at one of those two places, and when she had, he'd fallen into the mamma's boy category.
She'd been hurt more than once by men that had seemed so perfect in the beginning then done a complete 180 on her, whether they cheated, abused (verbally or physically or sometimes both), or just dropped her as soon as they got what they wanted, leaving her confused and heartbroken. But it wasn't long before she started to blame herself. It was her fault that they couldn't commit. There was something wrong with her, not him. It was her fault when they hit her. She had done something wrong and made him mad, so he hit her. It wasn't that he had issues. She was the one with issues. It took her a long time to get over that notion, and though she no longer believed that it was all her fault for the way those men had treated her, those ideas still lurked in the back of her mind and haunted her at times. She had her moments when she felt insecure and like she had to tread carefully so others wouldn't have a reason not to like her. But those moments were few and far in between now, thankfully.
Yes, she had learned, and learned well. So when a man like Ronan came along who seemed so perfect for her, old habits kicked in, and man did they kick in hard. No matter if her best friend had matched them up or trained professionals, she was still going to be careful. She knew what it felt like to give your heart freely with all the love and trust in the world then have it stomped on and crushed like an old cigarette butt, easily discarded and forgotten. She had no wish to relive that pain. So until she was sure that Ronan was the way he looked and that he wasn't going to turn on her like all the rest had, she had to guard her heart. It had already been pieced back together far too many times before, was already so fragile, and though that had been partially her fault for trusting and loving so easily, she wasn't going to make that mistake again. Ever.
Yet, even with that thought in mind, she couldn't help but smile a bit when he chuckled, the sound only weakening her towards him more. Trying to shake it off, she sat patiently and listened carefully, not wanting to miss a bit of what he was going to say. For some reason, his answer was extremely important to her. She watched his face for some sign that he was lying as he spoke, almost not believing her ears. He'd joined hoping to find true love and be happy? Well she supposed there were guys out there that truly wanted that, but in her experience, men who said that to her were lying through their teeth, just making up something in hopes of getting into her pants for the night. It was a "little jig" to them, as he'd put it.
But he wasn't done yet. The last part was what really got her. She almost had the urge to slap him because she was positive he was lying now when he told her that he thought he'd already found what he'd been looking for when he met her. Her eyes narrowed and her hand twitched, but she forced herself to take a closer look at his face. He was blushing now, and he even made an attempt to lighten things up again instead of staring deeply into her eyes, willing her to believe him and take her clothes off. Something she was far too used to and had actually believed, not once, but twice. But no matter how hard she stared, she couldn't find any sign that he was lying to her. When she finally started to accept that fact, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or a bit skeptical still. How could he feel that way after just meeting her?
But then again... Hadn't she been thinking that he was perfect for her, too? Just minutes after they'd met? Ah, hell. She thought. Things were already getting far too complicated, at least for her.
Thankfully, he saved her from having to form an answer when he said he'd make them something to eat. There was another point in his favor. He was willing to cook. Hadn't she put that as one of her turn ons? And the fact that he was now steering the conversation away from such a serious topic that Lillian didn't want to discuss at this moment was another plus for him. Damn, he was just racking them up, wasn't he?
"Anything you want to cook is fine. I'm not picky." She said as she hopped down from the counter again. But she wasn't as careful as she'd been the first time, and she came dangerously close to rolling her ankle in these god forsaken shoes. Huffing a frustrated breath, she crouched down and started unbuckling the thin straps that held the death traps on, wondering why she'd ever decided to buy them, much less wear them. Finally getting the straps unbuckled, she kicked them off, sighing in relief as her aching feet hit the cool floor of the kitchen. Scooting them over to the side of the room, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders and turned back to him, answering the latest question he'd fired at her.
"Do I want kids? Yeah, I'd say I most definitely want kids in the future." Actually, she'd wanted to be a mother ever since first held a baby. She'd always known that she wanted one, or many, of her own, when the time was right, and with the man that she loved. Then she added, with a subtle teasing lilt to her voice and a little smirk as she leaned on the island again, resting on her elbows. "But then again, I suppose that really depends on just how much I like you," she grinned at him. "Do you want kids?"
She watched as he pulled the steak from the fridge, already nodding a silent approval before he even asked. "Steak sounds fabulous." She chirped back, stepping away from the counter and padding over on bare feet to snoop through the pantry, finding potatoes and some simple spices along with salt and pepper inside. She hoped he didn't expect to cook alone, because Lillian really loved to cook and she was totally willing to help. She hefted the bag of potatoes up and carried them over to the sink, then went back and set out the spices on the counter for Ronan to do with as he pleased. She really wasn't a picky eater as long as the meat wasn't still mooing or burned to a crisp.
Before she started pulling potatoes out of the bag, she turned back to him and asked, "Do you like baked potatoes or mashed? Or I guess what I should ask is if you even like potatoes at all?" He was obviously Irish, but she didn't want to give in to the stereotype and just assume that he liked potatoes. She was surprised at how natural this felt, sharing the kitchen with him, asking him what he wanted to eat. If it hadn't felt so good and relaxing, it might have scared her a bit. But it didn't. All she felt was mild curiosity over whether or not he liked potatoes and how he liked them if he did, and a solid sense of contentment and companionship that they'd already established so quickly. "Oh! And I hope you don't mind dogs, 'cause I have two. Or horses. I have two of those, too."
