Mary Campbell [Scotland] -done-

[Mary Campbell]

Country of Origin: United Kingdom
Name: Mary Kirkland Campbell
Gender: Female
Height: 5'5”
Weight: 130lb
Age: 23
Year: N/A
Clubs: Ballet [Instructor]

Appearance:

Personality: On stage or in the studio, Mary is the epitome of grace and beauty: the perfect prima donna, the perfect instructor. Patient and wise, she guides her little ducklings with poise and gentility, helping them toward bettering themselves in the activity they love.

Outside dance, however, Mary is cold, clipped, and – some would say – vicious, with one exception: Francis Bonnefoy. With him, it's as if she's a completely different person; softer and even more gentle than she is to her students, putting him first always in her thoughts and actions.

This is the way she has been for a long time, but the girl she once was is peeking through the surface as she spends more time in the dormitories, getting to know the others there, drawing out something that has long been directed at a single person: maternal instinct. Should she become close to someone, she will fuss and dote on them without mercy, and not rest until she knows they are safe and tended to. However, should this be met with too much resistance early on, she will indeed shy away, although she doesn't go too far...just in case.

When in battle, she becomes impatient and to a point unstoppable, using every drop of her power to protect the ones she cares for, often overstepping her limits and having to sleep through much of the next day. For her, healing comes first and last, with offense used only when there is no room to heal. She is terrifically stubborn, and refuses to quit until the fight is over and everyone (except her, of course) is right as rain.

Likes:
Francis
Ballet
Her students
Small towns
Stories
Cute things
Arthur (and his abysmal cooking)

Dislikes:
Other women
Seeing others injured
Fire and anything it does
People who mess with her family

Strengths:
Magic: First and foremost, Mary is a witch. She dislikes using dark magic, instead preferring to heal, but it is not beneath her to use it if there is no alternative. She can see and interact with the sidhe, and use magic unrelated to Persona outside of the Dark Hour. Her training also allows her to channel her Persona's power through herself without summoning it, although this costs twice the energy it would if she were to use an Evoker, and wears her out very quickly.
Flexibility: She is a prima ballerina, and therefore her body can bend in ways most can't.
Age: Being in her twenties, it is easier for Mary to get some things than most of the younger members of the group.
Acting: She has the ability to put on a smile good enough to fool even the people closest to her, and has yet to meet anyone who can see past it.

Weaknesses:
Short Temper: She does not handle irritation well.
Envy: The cause of nearly all her problems.
Physical Weakness: Female dancers, while limber, must be light and frail in order to be lifted more easily, and thus Mary can't take too many hits.
Stubbornness: She refuses to give up, to the point where some would think it suicidal...and perhaps, subconsciously, it is.

History: Mary was born in Scotland on a chilly November morning, just before dawn. Her father, unprepared and unwilling, fled her mother before too long; unbeknownst to her, Mary has always borne the punishment for her sire's crime, watching as the sons her mother bore after remarrying were given everything they could ask for while she received nothing but contempt. The two next boys weren't very much better, and she retaliated against their teases with just as much fire as they were given, but when she was very close to six, the third time became the charm.

Arthur was the cutest little brother anyone could ask for; quiet and well-behaved, and always smiling, unlike the hair-pulling squalling hellions his elder brothers were. Mary adored him immediately, and since their mother had a tendency to become immersed in her work, Mary took it upon herself to take care of her smallest brother when the woman was away. Not long before Arthur was born, Mary had discovered reading, and having fallen in love with it would always sit near the crib and read aloud to him, certain he would adore it just as much as she.

Both of them grew, and stories became the threads that connected them. When it came time for her to go to school, Arthur would always be there waiting with a favourite book when she got home, begging to be read to, and she was happy to oblige. Pleased by the reverence shown them by the children, the fae made themselves known, delighting them even further and teaching the little ones the ways of the world that few others could see. Faeries' and men's tales alike, of brave knights and fierce dragons, kept at bay the all-too-real shouting and broken glass of the wars their parents waged with one another, and the siblings became each other's greatest treasure. Alas, from outside their glass tower, a green-eyed wolf looked in, and one evening when Mary was 12, their mother came and blew their once upon a time to pieces.

It was a simple everyday dinner; Mary, feeling tired, went up to bed for a nap...and woke up in a strange bed that she would soon discover was farther from home - and from Arthur - than she could ever imagine. A typed letter informed her that she had been enrolled in a school she had never heard of in the middle of Germany, and that she was forbidden from leaving until graduation. No one would come for her. Despite this information, she wrote to Arthur every day, becoming more and more dismayed at the lack of reply as time passed; eventually, every day became every week, and every week every month, until finally despair caught up with her and the writing stopped entirely.

In Goldkrone Academy, she flourished, little by little advancing to the head of the special class. Perhaps if she could become a perfect dancer, she would be seen by her family and allowed to finally go home. She concentrated so much on her dancing, on getting home, that she didn't bother making any friends, and none bothered with her past simple courtesies. Somewhere along the line, she came upon an old, dusty fairy tale in the academy's library – Prinz und Rabe. The strangest thing about the book itself was that the happy ending was written by hand, in different script than the much darker beginnings of the tale. The strangest thing about the story itself, however, was that the sidhe whispered to her of its absolute truth.

Once she graduated from the academy, Mary moved to France, hoping to catch a boat back to England and to her childhood home. It was there that she met Francis. Beautiful, graceful, perfect Francis, who was the first person since Arthur to show genuine kindness to her. They became quick, dear friends, and she used her knowledge of ballet to whip a real troupe out of his ragtag group of compatriots (whose illicit activities she graciously overlooked). She wrote the troupe a ballet based on the story she had found at the academy, and starred within it as Princess Kleid, Francis beside her, and soon fell deep into its fantasy - and even more deeply in love with him.

And then came Jeanne.

Suddenly, Francis had no eyes for her. Jeanne was a lackluster dancer at best, but as long as they weren't on the stage Francis spent all his time with the pretty blonde, and a demon with green eyes clawed its way slowly into Mary's heart. Guilt ate at her, for even as she hated Jeanne for stealing her prince, she couldn't help but care for the girl, part of her even being happy for the two despite herself. One day, however, it grew too much for Mary to bear, and as she watched the two in secret, Jeanne dancing the part she had always danced with Francis, the witch uttered her spiteful thoughts aloud – a wish that the new, shining, ugly duckling princess would turn into a speck of light and vanish as was her role in the original tale.

To her dismay, the sidhe were listening.

Jeanne burned the next evening.

Ever after, when Mary dared to glance into a mirror, not Kleid but Kraehe looked back. Even as the guilt ate at her innards like ravens, she grew accustomed to her new role as the spurned princess, watching in silence as Francis gradually began throwing himself everywhere but at her, growing colder and sharper with every one of his conquests. None of them would be Jeanne, however, and so none of them would have him. She would have to be satisfied with that.

When Francis disappeared, heading to America for his final year of school, Mary took the information he had left to her and followed, using her credentials from Goldkrone to take over the ballet program at World W Academy, coincidentally the same school Arthur was attending. Her heart leapt at the idea, but the practical mind she'd developed demanded she keep her distance - nothing between them could possibly be the same after all of this time. However, the thrum of power in the air and ground – coupled with the very tangible Witching Hour – drew her ever closer. She would protect both Arthur and Francis; no matter what came seeping out of the darkness, before it came to them it would have to slither over her cold, dead body.

Weapon: Athame (a short, sharp knife)

Statistics:
~Knowledge: 2-Broad
~Courage: 4-Daring
~Diligence: 4-Thorough
~Expression: 3-Persuasive
~Understanding: 2-Kindly

~Strength: *
~Magic: *****
~Endurance: **
~Agility: ****
~Luck: ***

Persona:
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~Name: Hera
~Arcana: Judgment

~Drain:
~Weak: Fire
~Null:
~Resist: Garu
~Skills:
Samarecarm: Recover from Unconscious with full HP. 1 ally. Can be used in the field.
Diarahan: Recovers all HP. 1 ally. Can be used on the field
Mediarama: Recovers a moderate amount of HP. All allies. Can be used in the field.
Amrita: Recover from all status ailments. 1 ally. Can be used in the field.
Magarudyne: Inflicts a large amount of Wind damage to all enemies.
Megidolaon: Inflicts a severe amount of Almighty damage to all enemies.
Spell Master: Halves the SP cost for all magic skills.


Roleplay Sample: [Just 2-3 paragraphs. Any universe is fine.]

Scotland made her way through the corridors of her husband's palace, her thoughts drowning out the echo of her steps. This war was ridiculous; all this mess over a foundling. Gilbert had found the boy, raised him; the boy himself had chosen to stay with the king of the Middlelands and the beloved wife the king had fought so hard for, much to her joy and - for whatever reason- his dismay. The boys' true parents, whom he still did not remember, had come out of the woodwork and objected, sparking a battle that continued to rage.

She didn't know whose side she should be taking; thinking of her son, she could see both sides of the argument and blame neither. She couldn't imagine losing Feliks, whether to death as Ludwig's biological parents had surmised, or having him forcibly taken, as Elizaveta was being threatened with.

Her husband was on no side but his own, as always, having on the surface taken up with the original parents; however, she failed to see how taking Elizaveta hostage would make any difference. Scotland knew Prussia would drop everything to come for her, but the Northern Kingdom was still a formidable enemy even without the Middlelands. What could Francis be thinking...?

Did you read the rules...? Awesome pancakes, chicks.

[Matthew Williams]

A-accepted. ; ;