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Lydia Coldwell; ●»» Mad Scientist's Daughter
Topic Started: Jun 14 2007, 10:39 AM (138 Views)
Lydia Coldwell
Unregistered

[BRIT. ALLY]

●»»[size=5] Out of Character [/size]
[size=0]
Name/Alias: rachel
Age: 16
Contact: pm is preferred, but if you would like an alternative form of contact, just let me know.
Other Characters: none as of yet. [/size]

●»»[size=5] In Character [/size]

.__[size=1]General Info[/size]__.
<span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'> Full Name: Lydia Rose Coldwell
Nick name: Mad Scientist's Daughter
Nick Name Explanation:
  • While many may not appreciate the title that has been bestowed upon Lydia at a very young age, it is one that the young scientist relishes in. Raised by her father, she was brought with him on all of his trips of inquiry, ranging from studies of illness outbreaks in the heart of Europe to a trip of biological classification in Africa. Her father, Michael Coldwell, could only be described as an eccentric, mad by most people's accounts. Strange noises would come from the building, set of tents, etc., that he had made into his temporary laboratory setting, causing many of the civilians in an area to question his sanity. Since Lydia is always at his side, participating in his projects with such ferver, the title has been passed onto her, except in a slightly nicer form.
Age: 27
Gender: Female</span>

.__[size=1]Appearance[/size]__.
<span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>] Overall Appearance:
  • To see Lydia walking down one of the cobbled streets of Port Royal, she is definitely bound to draw a few stares. Not for her breathtaking beauty or angelic features, but at the sheer differences between her and many of the other women around her. Raised in a laboratory, Lydia lacks several of the physical graces that would put her on par with a regular lady of the island, hiding them beneath a rather harried look and a laboratory coat or apron.

    In the eyes of many gentlemen, the ideal woman is meant to be delicate, willowy, gazing up at them with wide bright eyes with beautiful curls wearing a magnificent dress. Lydia is everything but this expectation. Standing five foot ten inches tall, she can look many men on the island in the eye, a trait that she is told is far from desirable and that many find disgruntling. But being raised around men all her life, this fact far from bothers her. In fact, in her mind, it makes them accept her as their equal since they cannot look down on her. Willowy, well, some could use that term to describe Lydia, but most would refer to her build as gangly. Her height combined with a rather lean frame makes her look more like a branch on a tree than a woman. Her curves are not of the dramatic hourglass school that is considered to be desirable, instead being more subtle and practically unnoticeable. And to be honest, Lydia wouldn't have it any other way. The lingering eyes of men take time away from what her and her father were sent to the Caribbean to do, and Lydia has a mind only for her work.

    But while her overall physique is not worth noticing, her face is very memorable. Due to her many hours spent inside, bent over some book or a set of magnifying lenses, Lydia’s complexion is highly pale, but not in a sickly way like some people of her profession look. No, on Lydia, this pallor looks perfect, providing the perfect canvas for her more subtle and delicate features. Her deep set chocolate brown eyes are highly analytical, picking out the details that nobody else seems to notice. When she is deep in thought, usually, the wide orbs are narrowed, her brow slightly furrowed. High and prominent cheekbones frame her eyes, a slight tinge of pink to her rather childish cheeks. They may not radiate constantly like most proper ladies, but when Lydia is on the verge of discovering something important, her entire face seems to glow with a strange light, one that comes from sheer joy. Her reddish brown waves of hair frame either sides of her face, and it is this that draws most of the attention. When she's out in the sun, it looks more red than brown. A rather unique color, even to some place as exotic as Port Royal, there are women who would kill for her hair, although to Lydia it's just a gift from her mother.

    That gorgeous dress that is supposed to make a lady a breathtaking beauty? In Lydia's case, it doesn't exist. When she is in London, there are plenty of dresses and gowns for her to choose from, but most of these are only wore on rare occasions, such as when she has to accompany her father to some dinner or party of such. Otherwise, it is not unusual to find the young lady dressed in a rather plain green dress with a white jacket draped over her shoulders. The jacket never seems to leave her frame, making many joke that it is a second layer of skin. But it is practical and functional, both qualities which Lydia embraces more than looks.
Hopeful Celebrity: Kate Beckinsale
Picture:Posted Image
Effects:
  • ;; A small silver dagger that she acquired from a Bedouin tribe in Africa. She doesn't use it that often, more for cutting plant specimens than for self defense.
    ;; Her butterfly collection. She's been working on it ever since she was a little girl and has some excellent specimens that she is very proud of.
    ;; Her notebooks/ logs. They are her lifeline. Everything that has to do with any project she has ever worked on is in these tomes. Her most prized ones are her cultural notes on the Bedouin tribe.
</span>

.__[size=1]Personality[/size]__.
<span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'> Personality:
  • The mad scientist’s daughter. The one woman on the island who has an aura and stigma about her that nobody seems to be able to figure out. Far from the typical island woman, Lydia finds herself to be ahead of her time, an independent spirit who relies more on her mind than on her heart, and her mind tells her that’s all she needs to survive.

    If there's one thing that everyone can agree upon when it comes to Lydia, it's that she had more patience and determination than anyone they have ever met. Whether she's helping out a friend or family member or sitting down researching for her latest article, Lydia is not the type of woman who is easily frustrated. It's a trait that Lydia values above all else, especially considering that her patience had made her an asset to her father’s scientific team. Even when she had been told that something is impossible, Lydia won't give up. In her mind, nothing is impossible until she says it is, leading to countless hours of frustration as she stewed over some notes she has taken, trying to analyze them to death. But on the flip side of this more intense display of determination and drive is how Lydia interacts with people. Able to tolerate a lot more stupidity than most, she's the kind of person who can listen to a long, winded, and completely pointless conversation and just smile and nod her head. Many people get the impression that Lydia actually likes them, an impression that most of the time is false. While she tolerates most individuals, there are very few who she holds near and dear and most of those who fall into the latter category are usually those who she works with in the lab.

    Intellect. It's something that Lydia possesses in spades. Literally sat with a book in her hands when she was born, it's a rather common joke to hear that Lydia has been studying and researching since she was in the womb, something that's not that far off, especially considering that her shared her father’s passion for knowledge. When she was but three years old, Lydia was receiving some of the most unique bedtime stories imaginable, ones that did not come from the pages of the Grimm Brothers, instead coming from the pages journals of those whose footsteps paved the way for Michael’s work. It didn’t take long for her to be able to recite these stories by heart, and she does so even to the day, albeit more dramatically than she did when she was a child. Her father had loved this and had made sure his daughter's mind was cultivated to its finest. Now, at thirty years old, Lydia holds the ability to surpass many with her knowledge and findings, having contributed more to her father’s discoveries than anyone would have ever thought.

    Lydia has always felt the need to prove herself. Growing up in an all male environment, she was always treated like a piece of fine china. Being the youngest member of her father’s team, she was always treated like something of a child. These are two things that Lydia detests. Capable of caring for herself in every sense of the word, Lydia hates it more than anything else when people decide that she's somehow less competent than her father’s assistants or men in general because she's a lady. One of the only times she ever loses her temper is when people even so much as insinuate that she's in any way inferior to any man. No. Lydia has worked her entire life to stay away from the typical quite, doe-like image that most people associate with the women of society and hates it when anyone makes the comparison with her and any other female archetype. In her mind, she's better than them. Heck, if you're going to compare her to somebody, compare her to her father, she's more similar to him than she is to any female.

    And independent streak runs through this young woman like you would not believe. Hating the thought of being thought of as hopeless, Lydia is never the kind of woman who would accept any sort of help. Strong-willed, even if somebody were to open a door for her, she would be civil, but remind them that she is perfectly capable of getting a door for herself. She'll help others out whenever they need it, but Lydia would soon as drop dead as allow somebody to as much as provide her with even the slightest bit of assistance. In her mind, that makes her just as helpless as some of the other females she has encountered who seem content with being the damsel in distress, and if there's one thing she's been trying to do her whole life, its show the world that she's perfectly capable of keeping care of herself.

    If there's something on Lydia's mind, chances are that in a matter of time, you'll know about it. A very forward person with her opinions, Lydia is the kind of person who you can ask a question to and depend on getting a straightforward answer every time. She doesn't believe in sugar-coating the truth, instead trying to frame it in some constructive format; it doesn't always work, though, especially when it comes to somebody who Lydia feels has wronged her in some way. Then it's suggested that you take cover for the woman who is usually known as being patient and kind completely loses her temper. Telling you everything she thinks about you without any second thoughts about it, there have been many people who have been seriously offended because of what she's said. And she won't apologize, either. Why give a hollow apology? It's a waste of oxygen and Lydia could think of several other ways that she would rather use it than uttering two words she doesn't even mean.
Likes:
  • ;; traveling
    ;; Originality
    ;; Innovation
    ;; Plant life
    ;; Exotic Culture
    ;; Strange plant/ animal life
    ;; Success (usually in the form of a discovery of some sort)
    ;; Quiet
    ;; Early Morning (when she does most of her best work)
    ;; Talking about her work
    ;; Sharing stories
    ;; Music
    ;; Tribal culture
    ;; History
    ;; Mysteries
    ;; Birds
    ;; Butterflies
    ;; Almost anything that can fly and doesn't suck your blood
    ;; Latin
Dislikes:
  • ;; Loud, disturbing noises
    ;; Being looked down upon because she's a woman
    ;; Chaos
    ;; Arrogance
    ;; When equipment breaks
    ;; The mundane
    ;; High Society Events
    ;; Restricting clothing
    ;; Rumors (especially when they're of the malicious sort)
    ;; Drunkards
    ;; Pointless small talk
    ;; Being shut inside for days at a time
    ;; Mosquitoes
    ;; People staring
    ;; What is thought to be "proper" civilization
Strengths:
  • ;; Intelligent (although she prefers to be called brilliant)
    ;; Analytical
    ;; Not very emotional
    ;; Could care less what others thought about her
    ;; Dedicated
    ;; Evasive with her words
    ;; Confusing people
    ;; Patient
    ;; Somewhat cunning
    ;; Her ability to adapt
    ;; Avid storyteller
    ;; Unconventional
Weaknesses:
  • ;; Obsessive-Compulsive
    ;; Quick-tempered
    ;; Has a tendency to over-analyze people and situations
    ;; A little too quick to speak her mind
    ;; Tends to let her independent streak get the best of her.
    ;; Unconventional (although she considers this to be a strength)
    ;; The whole thing about being a lady (honstly, what is that all about? She just can't do it.)
    ;; Not very trusting
    ;; VERY curious
</span>
.__[size=1]History[/size]__.
<span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'> Personal History:
  • Born on a rather stormy January day, Lydia was the only child born to Michael and Adelle Coldwell. Her mother died two days after giving birth to her baby daughter, leaving Lydia to be raised by her father. Most would consider this to be tragic, which in some ways it was, but in so many other ways, it was the beginning of many great things that were to happen. Her father was one of the King’s scientists, specializing in the biological sciences. Ever since she could remember, Lydia’s father had always had a fascination with the nature of illnesses in relation to ones climate and had spent his entire life studying the topic, traveling across Europe with Lydia to different locations to study the illnesses of the area and how they affect individuals based on their location.

    Although one could say that her true home was in London, Lydia cannot remember a time when she has actually spent more than a few months at “home.” Most of her life was spent traveling around the world to destinations of interest to the King. For the first five years of her life, Lydia could remember being in the heart of one of the one of the Germanic provinces, spending many of her hours being fussed over by her nurse as her father trecked off into nearby villages, recording the symptoms of a epidemic that had hit the area. Not a pleasant memory by any means, looking back Lydia would say that was the most boring time of her life. Everyone swore the first words she ever spoke were “me too”, showing a spark in her curiosity that would never fade away. But her father’s work was dangerous work, and he didn’t want his daughter to be hurt, so she was cloistered to the old farm house that her father had procured and turned into his laboratory, saying that he would send her back to London to live with her grandparents if she didn’t behave. It was enough of a threat to keep her in line, but not to stop her subtle, persistent ways of making sure she at least was in on some of the action.

    After these five years, a series of smaller trips of inquiry began, mostly taking place aboard one of His Majesty’s naval vessels. Her father was to report on the topography of the land that was visited, the natives who lived in various exotic lands, and the animals that resided on the lands and shores. Again, Lydia was not allowed to take part in most of her father’s inquiries, brought only to shore when he believed that things were safe. Most of the time it was when he was collecting plant and animal specimens, his dagger drawn cutting off a piece of a vine Lydia had never seen before. Their prize from this trip was a plant that had cannibalistic qualities, a specimen that Lydia carried with her for years afterwards. While this intrigued Lydia, it was the animal life that really piqued her interest. Creatures like most would never see in their lives were collected and preserved to be shown to the King. Butterflies of the most vibrant colors were put in glass cases, their beauty preserved for hundreds to see. At ten years old, Lydia started her own collection of these beautiful creatures, and it is one of her most prized possessions.

    Such patterns continued for several years. Every destination the Coldwell team would arrive at, Lydia would be shooed away back to where they had designated as base. That is until she was fifteen years old. Sent on a trip to find the source of the Nile River, Lydia finally found herself allowed to participate. The Bedouins found her of interest, or as it were, her hair. The sun had made its red hue stronger, and the tribesmen had never seen anything like it. Taken into the tent of the tribe’s chief, Lydia learned the language of the people and was considered to be a member of the tribe. She stayed there for several months while her father and his men made their travels. She kept several books of what she had learned about their culture, books which she presented to her father upon his return. What a surprise it was for everybody to see Lydia draped in the robes of the tribe, her face veiled from view. For a while, they didn’t believe it was her, until they heard her speak and saw her writings. Her father made several trips deeper down into the continent while Lydia remained behind with the tribe. At an age when most young women joined the tents of their husbands, Lydia stayed to herself. She lied, saying that she was already engaged to one of the men with her father, and this kept her safe from all inquiries. After three years of travels, her father returned worn and battle torn. Explaining to the Bedouin that it was time for her to go, she packed up her belongings and headed back to shore with her father.

    Their tenure in London following this trip would prove to be one of the most successful. Both father and daughter went before the king, presenting what they had learned on their travels. Her father’s information was of much value, providing not only the information of the world that his majesty craved so much, but the source of one of the greatest rivers in the world. Lydia’s information on the other hand, provided more of a sense of intrigue. The British Empire did not have much information on the desert tribes on the neighboring continent, and Lydia’s daily logs describing the lives, rituals, and laws of the Bedouin became the topic of much discussion. A dinner was held in their honor, one in which Lydia retold her story more times than she cares to remember.

    They stayed in London for quite a while, attending various dinners as guests of honor where they spoke of what they had learned. Father and daughter were even invited to give a lecture at various universities, a fact Lydia found both exhilarating and unnerving. Standing in front of a room filled with strangers, with all eyes on her, she preferred the life of travel that she was used to than the strange cult of academia that she spent several hours in. It wasn’t just the change of pace that bothered Lydia; it was the rumors. Not many ladies had done what she had. Not many women had traveled across the world and lived among what many called ‘the savages’. And most importantly, no woman traveled in the company of men the way she did unless they were a woman of ill repute. This was the rumor that stung Lydia the most. If she was anything, she was nothing but a sister to half of the men she traveled with, and to the others, she was merely a colleague. To hear such malicious words spoken around the city made Lydia refuse to leave her father’s house. She waited, immersing herself in the notes her father had gathered from past voyages, until he received his next set of orders.

    Their next set of trips were more subdued. Having proved herself to her father, Lydia was finally allowed to take full part in his inquiries, as he so fondly called them. She was not just delegated to research, like some of the male assistants her age, but was allowed to take part in the actual experiments. Hunched over the equipment they were provided with, Lydia would spend hours looking at cell samples, transferring what she saw under a rudimentary microscope onto paper. She was trusted with some of the team’s most trusted commodities, expensive equipment that would take months to repair, dyes that came from various sources that were expensive to extract. It was with these materials and the microscopic world that Lydia now made much of her progress, her highly observant nature allowing her to draw detailed representations of what she saw, which the rest of her team would use to draw conclusions from.

    It was these conclusions that made Lydia’s father gain even more prestige with the King. Impressed with their findings, the King provided Michael with the opportunity to go to the Caribbean and conduct his studies there. Lydia’s father eagerly agreed. All of their belongings, both personal and professional, were packed and loaded onto a vessel belonging to the Royal Navy and the father-daughter team along with their assistants, made their way across the Atlantic to Port Royal. They set up their lab in an old farm building on the edge of the bustling city, not wanting their work to be disturbed, yet close enough to go into town if they ever needed anything. The Caribbean was a region that Lydia was familiar with; the ships she had been on as a child had made many short trips there in the past, but never had they spent more than a couple of weeks in any location, and never had Lydia been allowed to come to shore. But now that she was there, Lydia saw Port Royal as the joining of two worlds, of the civilized and the exotic, the merging points of many different people around the world. Even though they have only been on the island for a few months, Lydia has already started to draw up her plans for her own inquiries, hopefully starting with a collection plant and animal life and an observation of many of the tribal cultures on the surrounding islands.
Family:
  • Father ;; Michael Coldwell ;; 56 ;; Scientist
    Mother ;; Adelle Coldwell ;; Deceased
Love Interests on TTC:
  • None as of yet. To Lydia, her projects are a labor of love, so they take up much of her time and energy that would otherwise be spent on more frivelous things.
</span>
.__[size=1]Conclusion[/size]__.
<span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'> Any extra information we need to know about?

RP example:
  • ”Lydia, darling. You really do need to take a break from all this work you’ve been doing. It isn’t healthy for you to be putting so many hours into this project.”

    Those were the words that her father had said to her that morning when she had headed out of the back door and towards the carriage house that had been turned into their lab. Usually known for rising before anyone else in the house, she was startled to find that somebody was up before her, and informing her that she would not be in the lab that afternoon. Lydia was grateful for this reprieve; since she had arrived in Port Royal a few months ago, all she had done was work on this project that they had been given, sitting over a microscope for hours on end, transferring what she saw through the lenses onto the paper in one of her notebooks. But no matter how hard she had worked, almost driving herself into exhaustion, Lydia couldn’t help but think that she was going to end up letting her father and the rest of the team down somehow, like something was going to go tragically wrong without her presence there. She knew that this was probably her ego speaking, but having been a major member of the team since they were given the assignment, Lydia knew that it was foolish to let her go for even a day. But she wasn’t complaining. For once she agreed with her father; she needed a day just to spend by herself, doing whatever she wanted, before she had to return to her productive, yet according to some people, dull, routine.

    Lydia really didn’t get out that much, as was evident by the way she carried herself. Her pace was that of the confident young lady who was surrounded by her teammates in a small, enclosed setting, the thought running through her mind that everything that she did was important. That was far from the truth out on the docks. From what she had heard, this was the heart of the island, where all the business and most of the interaction took place. Whoever had said this was telling the truth. It seemed that Lydia couldn’t even turn her head without bumping into somebody, whether it be an officer, a merchant, a little child running down the docks, or one of the locals who Lydia never really got a chance to talk to. It was just like things were back in London, an attribute that more than anything else since she came to the island made her feel at home in Port Royal. Even though her father and her had been on many assignments that had brought them all over the world, she always thought of London as her home and hated the fact that she was away from it so much, although at the same time she found every place that she was in completely fascinating. How couldn’t anyone, when encountering new people, new plant species, now animals, every place and everything different from that before it?

    But while the pace of the docks reminded her of home, some of the looks that Lydia received did not put her at ease. When she had woken up that morning, Lydia had prepared for a day in the lab and had dressed accordingly; her wavy auburn hair pulled back in a simple twist at the back of her head, her lab jacket covering a deep blue dress. In comparison to some of the gowns that Lydia had seen that day, hers was rather simple, lacking in layers, lace, pearls, and everything else that might get in the way. But it was pragmatic, allowed for easy movement, and didn’t weigh Lydia down when she was working alongside the team. She was glad for her choice of attire as she maneuvered her way down the busy docks. It was much easier for her to weave between the people compared to the troubles some were having. She was usually known as the pragmatic one, and this showed when she went out into town. Everyone else seemed to be weighed down by their own person, yet Lydia found that she could just glide naturally through the crowds. But no matter how much easier it was for her to move in her dress, that didn’t mean that it helped Lydia avoid bumping into people, for the young scientist’s shoulder still managed to collide with another person.

    “Sorry.” She said in her usual placid voice. The words were something that Lydia knew nobody really meant, but were uttered as protocol, and for once, Lydia didn’t question this protocol and just followed it.
</span>

●»»[size=5] Confirmation [/size]

.__[size=1]Proof of Plot[/size]__.
[size=0] What is Elizabeth Swann's age? 17

.__<span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Proof of Rules[/size]__.
The admins on this site are: super smexy</span>
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