Post by Samira on Jun 28, 2011 22:26:16 GMT -5
first middle last,
[/b][/size]
"lStand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I got to face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand my ground"
wanted dead or alive[/b][/size]
WANTED-DEAD-OR-ALIVE![/SIZE][/center]
name: Gina LaSalle
nicknames: none.
age: 31; 23 June.
gender: female
career: profiler for the BAU‘s Red Cells team
title: Supervisory Special Agent
sexuality: heterosexual
usergroup: FBI
playby: Beau Garrett.
livin on prayer
[/b][/size]TAKE-MY-HAND-AND-WE'LL-MAKE-IT-I-SWEAR ![/SIZE][/center]
height: 5ft10in".
weight: 120 lbs.
hair: Gina's hair is straight, dirty-blonde, shoulder-length, cut in layers. She usually wears it down or, in the field, up in a ponytail and she has a habit of running her fingers through it whenever she's thinking or stressed. It doesn't look untameable, but it never stays totally restrained, always with some wisps flying away from whatever she has it held back in.
eyes:Her eyes are almond-shaped, a greyish-green colour that sometimes looks blue depending on what shirt she wears. They can be surprisingly expressive, but she has mastered the art of keeping her emotions safely hidden behind them.
piercings: Ears
tattoos: She has a black swallow in the middle of her back – it was a rebellion thing when she was a teen.
distinguishing features: She's surprisingly good with kids. She seldom sits still for very long – something is always moving, whether she's tapping her fingers or kicking a foot back and forth. She can compartmentalize to the point of seeing only the black and white and not the person – it can make her extremely callous toward certain people.
style: Usually Gina wears tight jeans and long-sleeved shirts. She tends toward shades of grey and red and often wears a leather jacket. She likes layers and she's seldom to be seen in anything besides black boots.
bed of roses
[/b][/size]I-WANNA-LAY-DOWN-IN-A-BED-OF-ROSES ![/SIZE][/center]
likes:
Nice clothes - but she won‘t go out of her way to acquire them
Coffee
Frogs
Firearms
Honey
The seaside
Her job
The smell of lemon wood polish
Hiking
Cats
Dippin Dots
Classical guitar music
Eclectic coffee shops
Mick Rawson - but she’ll never admit it .
dislikes:
Fancy cars
Dictatorial fathers
Pepsi
Squealing girls
Wearing dresses
Writing reports
Open cases
Bees and wasps
Narcissistic local police
Bureaucrats
Mexican food
Country music
Being compared to her sister
strengths:
Being objective about the case
Diplomatically handling the local PD
Hiding her feelings
Taking Mick‘s jokes
Extremely tenacious
Natural leader
Relates well to people.
weaknesses:
Opening up
Easily shaken by cases dealing with bad fathers
Doesn’t forgive easily
She seems strong but she’s fragile about her self-image; she overcompensates to prove that she isn’t just the pretty one.
Stubborn when she thinks she’s right; she can be intolerant at times
Breaks the rules without compunction
Distances herself to avoid pain
fears:
Tight spaces
Losing people she cares about
Clowns
Spud-guns
LDSK
The dark
Subway stations
secrets:
She loves it when people play with her hair; it reminds her of when she was little and her sister used to mess with her hair, back when they still got along.
She's terrified of the dark but sucks it up and deals with it every time she has to go into it because she refuses to show weakness.
She's never actually had a relationship with a guy because she's always been afraid of the vulnerability it would bring and because dating seemed to only validate her father's assertions that she was “the pretty one”.
dreams: She would love to have her relationship with her sister intact again.
She wants to visit Paris with somebody someday, though she doesn't know who that somebody should be or when she would ever find the time.
quirks: She always holds eye contact when speaking with someone – a habit instilled in her by her military father.
Almost everything she hears people say triggers song lyrics in her mind, probably due to her mother's constant singing around the house when she was growing up.
She automatically touches the roof of the car whenever they cross railroads or cattle-guards when they're in rural areas, the result of habit growing up in ranch-country.
personality: Gina keeps to herself pretty well without ever seeming antisocial or introverted. She can laugh along with the team over almost anything, but keeps her secrets buried deep down. Perhaps it's the result of her upbringing – there was never really anyone for her to confide in and her father disapproved of any show of weakness, so she learnt early to carry her own loads and solve her own problems. She has trouble trusting. She has no issue with knowing that one of her team might be all that stands between her and a bloody death; that kind of trusting comes easily enough. But she doesn't trust easily when it comes to her personal life, her fears and dreams, her ghosts. She'd rather keep it all hidden behind a facade of teasing and jokes and a serious “case face.” Oddly enough, though she doesn't like sharing her own secrets, she likes learning others' secrets. She's the sort of person that people instinctively confide in, though she doesn't seem like a hugely sympathetic person, and she honours their confidence by never sharing what she knows.
She appears strong on the outside, but inside she's actually a pretty fragile person. Her entire life growing up, she had to measure up to her father's standards. She was always trying to be good enough and never quite succeeding. Her sister seemed to do everything right and Gina was always just a little bit less. Her father always said she was the pretty one, and her sister was the smart one, and Gina has spent her entire life trying to prove that she can be smart too, that she isn't just pretty and mindless. She's slightly suspicious of any compliments that don't involve her physical appearance and she doesn't handle serious affection well. As long as everyone is joking she's perfectly content, but when people start to sound like they might really care, she has a mini panic attack inside. She always swears she never wants a family. She says it's mostly due to the horrible things she sees in her job, but it really traces back to her own family.
She has a fun sense of humour and can never resist teasing the guys. She almost always has some joke running at the expense of either Mick or Prophet, and she usually gets Beth to join in on it all. She refrains from picking on Cooper, probably due in part to his position as her unit chief and in part to his personality. He simply isn't the kind of man you feel free to make fun of. She isn't nearly as flippant as she can seem, and she can be intensely focused on a case, but it's easier to laugh around other people and fight her demons alone in the dark.
it's my life
[/b][/size]MY-HEART-IS-LIKE-AN-OPEN-HIGHWAY![/SIZE][/center]
nationalities:American – she took Spanish in high school like all the other kids but really only remembers little things like Buenos dias and Donde esta el baño.
birthplace: Phoenix, Arizona
hometown: Fort Huachuca, Arizona
father: General Robert LaSalle, 64, US Military.
mother: Debora LaSalle, 59, stay-at-home mother.
siblings: Lisa LaSalle, 36, judge.
pets: one Siamese cat named Fitzhugh... the name was a joke. Mick started it.
history:
Gina was raised on the US Military base Fort Huachuca in southeastern Arizona. From the beginning she was a tenacious child with a strong personality, and her blonde hair, then-blue eyes, and unpretentious smile earned her instant popularity wherever she went. She was almost immediately acknowledged as the beauty in the family, and as her older sister began excelling in school almost from the day she began, their tags were set early. Lisa was the clever one and Gina was the pretty one. It was years before this bothered Gina. Lisa was an affectionate older sister who enjoyed helping Gina with homework and liked to spend hours fixing the younger girl's hair while confiding her hopes and fears and ambitions. The bitterness began slowly. A twinge of jealousy when Lisa's high grades were discussed with pride and hers were mentioned with a touch of surprise; a slight feeling of resentment when her father called her “our pretty one.” She began to distance herself from her sister. Though not brilliant, she was a stubborn, dedicated student and she began to apply herself in school with a vengeance. She would never have admitted to trying to prove her father wrong, but she began to refuse Lisa's help in academics, needing to succeed without her smart sister's assistance. She stopped taking any pleasure in her appearance, preferring to wear dark colours and simple hairdos that, while unable to hide her natural beauty, did nothing to accentuate it. She began to resent any mention of her appearance. Her father was not a naturally affectionate man. In stereotypical military fashion, he was gruff, a strong disciplinarian, unable or unwilling to display even positive emotions. He frowned on any such displays in his daughters and gave silent approval to their hiding their feelings and appearing stoic. Though she would've strongly denied it, Gina constantly craved her father's approval and did her utmost to match up to his standards. In high school she had little in the way of a social life, preferring to excel at sports and academics and leave nothing that her father could term “flippant” or “shallow” - nothing that could label her as “just the pretty one.”
Her relationship with Lisa began deteriorating when Gina began to pull away back in junior high, but the real break came at her high school graduation. Lisa, excelling in law school as she had everywhere else, returned for the event completely expecting a warm welcome. She received it from her mother and, to a small extent, from her father, who was – as always – immensely proud of her achievements, though he couldn't express it. Gina, however, remained cool. After the ceremony Lisa hugged her and said, “You're so beautiful!” Almost before she realized what she was doing, Gina stiffened and drew back.
“Tell it to someone who cares,” she hissed. “Go back and top your class at Harvard – I don't need you here.” The hurt on Lisa's face still haunts her, but they were never taught reconciliation or regret. Pride and her accustomed distance from relationships kept her from going after her sister to apologize that night, and the longer they go, the farther apart they drift, the more impossible it seems to ever recover any semblance of a warm relationship.
In college Gina followed the family precedent and studied criminal justice. She avoided social activities and graduated, lonely but highly successful, at the top of her class. She worked as a field cop for several years and slowly began to seriously consider the idea of joining the FBI. She started working toward it, expecting years of struggles before she would be accepted as an agent. She graduated the FBI academy, successful as usual, and set out to build a career for herself. Sam Cooper's call came as a complete surprise, but her acceptance was immediate. On the Red Cells team she immediately made herself invaluable with her experience, instincts, and level head. She still won't admit how close they've grown as a team, but she would give her life for any of them without question.
blaze of glory
[/b][/size]CAUSE-I'M-GOING-DOWN-IN-A-BLAZE-OF-GLORY ![/SIZE][/center]
hey, my name is Sami and i think this site is the nuts. you can contact me through PMs, but i won't be on all the time, since i live in the Mountain Standard time zone. by the way, i'm 18 years old, and, uh, ellasal. also, i pretty much rock at roleplaying, look:The scent of dust and rotting wood clogged her nostrils as Gina entered the house – or what was left of it, anyway. Shafts of sunlight pried between the boards over the west windows, and dust motes danced languidly where the golden light lay. The door behind her creaked ominously in the soft breeze from outside, and she stepped forward slowly, silently, gun extended in front of her. Everything in this place looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed in years. The dust hung like a shroud over broken furniture – a sofa long since gutted by mice, a few chairs with broken legs and backs, a rocking chair with the woven seat hanging in shreds and one rocker cracked. A bee buzzed in one corner, and in the emptiness of the apparently abandoned house it sounded loud and crass. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of the bee and kept on her way. She heard Mick entering behind her as she rounded the doorway into the kitchen.
“Clear.” Her voice died in the soft shadows of the empty room and she looked around in vain for more doorways before returning to the entryway. There wasn’t even the ticking of a clock to break the silence, as there had been in the last house. There was something uncanny about the dead air in here. They had to have the right place; it fit the profile exactly, and they’d found Bryson’s sedan parked off to one side. We’re finding this creep and taking him in. There was no back door – or at least, there wasn’t anymore. Whoever had owned this place last had bricked it over. The thought made her feel vaguely claustrophobic, and she shoved it away and reminded herself that there were other exits. No, Bryson has to be in here, somewhere...
The stairs curved up from the corner of the living-room. Some of the spokes on the handrail were broken. It reminded her of the spine of some long neglected skeleton, rising eerily from the dim room and disappearing into shadows up above. The first stair was silent under her feet, but the second let out a groan that sounded almost human. She ignored the cold shudder that crept down her spine and continued, eyes darting around the dusty shadows on the second level. She tested each step gingerly, warily – this place could come crashing down around them at any minute, from the looks of it. The first doorway was an empty linen closet, with termite damage on all the shelves. The second was a bedroom. What had once been curtains hung like tattered ghosts over boarded-up windows. The closet door was missing. Her flashlight beam showed it gaping empty, except for the hanger rod, which rested at an angle with one end on the floor and the other still in its socket on the wall. She swept her beam cursorily under the bed, revealing nothing but dust and mouse-nests.
In the dark she almost missed the door in the corner. It was sagging on its hinges, partway ajar. It squeaked as she nudged it open with her foot and spun into the room, gun first as always. A bathroom, she realized. The mirror was so dulled it barely reflected the flashlight’s beam. The toilet was ancient, cracked porcelain, and probably dry. The bathtub looked as if it hadn’t been used in years; it was coated with dust and old hard-water stains and the knob on the left had been broken off entirely. And in the corner – What the …? It looked like a corpse, but … She prodded it with his gun and it swung around, the rope creaking with its weight. She couldn't prevent the shudder that ran over her, but her voice was strong and unemotional when she called out.
“We’re clear, guys; I found Bryson.”
lyrics by Bon Jovi
Anna, aka KEEP THE FAITH. of Caution 2.0
made this template. In other words, steal and
I'll probably beat you up. Just sayin'.
