Post by Ruth on Aug 27, 2009 0:35:15 GMT
Name: Ruth Ariel Bell
Nicknames: Ruthie, Taco Bell, Ruth tends not to disclose her middle name which actually means 'Lion of God' and was rather obviously her father's input.
Race: Human.
Occupation: Currently Ruth writes columns on various subjects - most of it filler - for the LA Sun, though she aspires to be a serious journalist and is just waiting for her big break, hoping that in waiting for it her life doesn't ultimately pass her by.
Gender: Female.
Skin Colour: Caucasian, with a natural, light tan.
Age: 30.
Clothing: As a professional woman, Ruth has her fair share of suits with a mix and match feeling with her skirts, pants and blouses and several jackets to toss over the top; she is never ostentatious in her style, not that she can afford to be on her salary anyway, but she makes a serious effort to always look neat and presentable. Though she technically has a desk job at the newspaper, Ruth is always chasing her big break, and therefore she is always chasing leads and that means that she needs to wear practical shoes. Of course, she doesn't all the time, having a weakness for high heels she can't help but toss a pair on in the morning for a little height boost, but she does at least try to make sure the heels aren't stilettos and the shoes themselves actually stay on her feet suitably. Like most women she has a small collection of 'fancy' dresses, cocktail and formal for events and functions she may need to attend throughout the city as well as just going out for a drink with her girl friends. When she's not working, Ruth is about as normal as a thirty year old woman can be, she prefers to relax in her apartment in slacks and a t-shirt, or even her pyjamas if she's feeling particularly lazy or lethargic. Occasionally she will go jogging and for the pursuit she has a couple of plain, simple sets of suitable clothes as well as a cap that she wears to keep the glare out of her eyes, her running shoes are probably one of the most expensive pairs of footwear her actually owns, a pair of Merrell Chameleon shoes which she kind of prizes if only because they're so comfortable, she would live in them if she could.
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 122lbs
Tattoos: None.
Piercings: Ruth just has her ears pierced, only once through each lobe.
Jewellery: Much like her clothing, Ruth is unfussy about her jewellery, but tries to err on the side of taste and practicality and the fact that given her occupation there's an emphasis, however slight, on personal appearance. The only piece she really wears without fail is the crucifix that her father gave her and was her mother's, it is a highly prized, sentimental necklace and Ruth would panic severely if she ever thought she lost it, it's a physical connection to home, one she would feel lost without, even if she can't admit that to herself.
Body Modifications: Ruth is lucky enough to be largely unscarred so far, th
Hair
Length: Due to its curls, Ruth's hair hangs at about shoulder length, if she were to straighten it, an almost unheard of occurrence though that is, it would likely reach to the middle of her shoulder blades.
Style: As far as modern styles go, really Ruth's hair is kind of old fashioned in that there are no choppy layers or fancy feathering, it hangs around her shoulders in loose, thick curls and she really does very little to it apart from a little blow drying and some anti-frizz styling wax. If she wears it up at all, it's usually twisted or raked back and fastened loosely with a clasp when she's working or just a hair elastic when she's at home.
Colour: Mahogany brown, with lighter, natural chestnut highlights.
Facial Hair
Length: N/A
Style: N/A
Eyes
Colour: Green.
Oddities: N/A.
Personality: In every way an a-typical curious, driven reporter, Ruth is on the surface a cliché given form, but the truth is she is about as far from that in reality as is possible. Raised in a small town with a small, loving family and a close circle of friends, Ruth developed a big heart and a tendency to wear it in her sleeve, she was sheltered and ended up being naive well into her early teens, like the rest of her family she was very religious, attendance church every Sunday and listened to her father preach to the congregation, she was very obedient and gentle, but around her sixteenth year everything changed. Ruth stopped speaking to God and became a harder, more complex person. Nowadays she is a mix of two seemingly clashing personalities; the sweet, compassionate and endlessly accommodating, easy tempered girl of her youth and the determined, inquisitive and intelligent woman she has grown into. Independence was in many ways forced upon her but that is not to say that she hasn't accepted it with open arms. Even though her father would call it a ;sin; she has a certain amount of pride even now at the fact that she is sanding on her own two feet, that she made a fresh start, and
Generally speaking Ruth is artistic, especially when it comes to writing, though she has never tried to write a novel thus far, ii was certainly something that she would excel at with her imaginative streak and her way with words. It is her objectiveness that lends her writing skills well to journalism however, as well as letting her get along with most people, able to see many different situations from different viewpoints and understand people and their motivations quite intricately. Being a poised individual helps as well, she is always ready to think of her feet, to change her tact and perspective, while at the same time managing to remain balanced within herself and sure of her own standing and views on a situation. Added to that is the fact that Ruth Bell, it has been said, is achingly charming, her smile can disarm most people and open up a lot of conversation with them, she had a very good heart and cares openly for people around her, despite her experience with loss in her past, something that she has worked long and hard to put behind her, where it belongs. Ruth has come through a trial by fire and on the other end of it she now rarely surrenders herself to others, especially in terms of relationships, of which she has had or wanted very few, when she does love it is passionately and she cares deeply for that other person, willing to move mountains for them if she has to.
All that said, she is not without her faults, nobody is, and she can become self-absorbed sometimes; where she has tried to keep her life small and manageable that as also allowed her to get sucked into her own head quite often and occasionally she can be thoughtless because of that, acting on impulse without thinking her motions and words through, to the point where she can even be indecisive. In these times it generally takes a bit of a shake up to get her back to reality.
Weaknesses: Being a human being Ruth is obviously entirely mortal and can die a number of ways, from 'simple' things such as diseases, to accidents like car crashes, if thrust into the supernatural world she really wouldn’t stand much of a chance at all. Some might say that she has a problem with getting too emotionally involved with her work, not necessarily her real job as the 'Agony Aunt' for the LA Sun, though when warranted, when a real cry for help crosses her desk she won't hesitate to jump and run to the troubled party's aid, crime
Abilities: As a journalist, and therefore a write she obviously has a way with words, she’s smart and a gregarious, dedicated writer and can spin a story a number of different ways. She’s a skilled pianist and organist and can cook, sew and knit like a good young woman of Southern religious birth ought, at least that was what her mother always used to say. Not a lot of skills that are terrible useful in Los Angeles but they are what she’s been graced with nonetheless.
Weapons: None; Ruth doesn't believe in weapons or violence really, she abhors it and refuses to carry a weapon any more aggressive than a can of mace, because while she's largely a pacifist, she's not an idiot.
Prized Possessions: More or less above everything else, Ruth prizes her necklace; it holds a great deal of sentimental value to her. Less obvious is her huge collection of photographs from home, she keeps her albums in a box along with all the loose memorabilia of her childhood and teenage years, the fact that she rarely gets it out to look through it is far from the point.
Home(s): Ruth shares an adequately sized apartment with her roommate Tommy Klein on Cole's side of the city; however, the journalist is completely oblivious to the supernatural world around her and its divisions.
History: Born in Byberry, Arkansas in 1976, Ruth Ariel Bell grew up an only child like most of her generation, in the small religious town that had no reason or desire to be on the map, the families were old fashioned and traditional, fond of the 'it takes a village to raise a child' mentality, everyone was close, everyone attended church on Sundays and everyone made a bean salad for the monthly pot luck held on the elementary school's front lawn. In such a sleepy southern town, Ruth's formative years were as uneventful as one might imagine, she took piano lessons from her mother, and learned to play the organ too, in her teenage years she would often accompany the church choir. Her father was the preacher of the town, so naturally Ruth had an inbuilt belief and faith in God, as did her mother and all her friends and their families, from an early age Ruth was able and expected to recite passages from the bible.
Life was normal and even boring to people from faster paced upbringings until Ruth was sixteen. That was the year everything changed. One night during the sweltering Southern summer, three people broke into the Bell household and unleashed a rein of seemingly random and brutal terror upon the occupants of the house. Ruth was in her room at the time, knitting a scarf for the coming fall when she heard a knock at teh door downstairs, causing her to pause and listen carefully for the conversation which carried easily through the house. A Woman asked if Allison was home, Ruther’ mother returned that she must have the wrong house to which the younger sounding female asked if she was sure of. When her mother said she was sure, the girl replied with “See you later,” and left. Thinking nothing of it she continued what she was doing. Her father went out to the general store in town; her mother was baking in the kitchen. Ruth went down to get a glass of water when there was another knock on the door and she went to open it. Suddenly feeling nervous she paused at the handle and asked who was there, looking out through the peephole tentatively. On the other side was a girl half in shadow, Ruth tried to turn the porch light on but flicking the switch back and forth produced no light. The girl asked if Allison was home and Ruth replied that she had already asked them that and must have the wrong house. “Are you sure?” was the only response that Ruth was offered and then the girl was gone. Telling her mother that someone must have given the girl bad directions she went back upstairs and carried on with what she was doing. Until her mother knocked on her door, distressed, asking Ruth if she had been downstairs at all. When she replied that no, she had been in her room since dinner, Ruther’s mother seemed panicked and frightened, telling her daughter to check that her window was locked and then come downstairs. Ruth did as she was told, confused by her mother’s behaviour and the lack of an explanation when she had asked for one. When she got downstairs her mother had turned the record player off and then took her into the kitchen and showed her that several of their cooking implements and small, china figurines had been moved. Ruth’s father was out of the house at the time, he had taken their car to town to pick up some milk as they had run out after it had been used for cooking earlier that evening. Ruth and her mother were the only people in the house. Their house was the only one for miles, the residences of Byberry being vastly spread out through the woods.
Together they checked all of the doors and windows in the downstairs and then the upstairs together, Ruth honestly thought that her mother was imagining things, but as was her way she attempted to give her the benefit of the doubt and to reassure her by checking the house over. While in the back bedroom, finding that, as well as all the other windows upstairs to be locked the record player came on again downstairs. At that point Ruth decided that her mother was not imagining things. Heart in her throat, Ruth held her mother’s hand and they crept towards the staircase together. There was no sound from downstairs, only the crackle of the old record player and Patsy Cline’s country twang filling the rooms. Ruth went and turned it off herself, now growing concerned that her mother was right. They weren’t alone. They only had one cell phone in the house at that time, her mother didn’t have one of her own and her father only used his when he was working, but nevertheless Ruth attempted to call him and ask him to hurry home, thinking that perhaps some of the more rebellious teens from the town had taken it upon themselves to cause a bit of a ruckus at the Minister’s house in the woods. Sure enough he didn’t answer, but she left a message at the voice mail while her mother wrung her hands worriedly.
Just as Ruth was attempting to calm her down again, suggesting that they call the Phelps’ residence too – the nearest house to theirs and home of Ruth’s childhood friend Hayley – they heard something from upstairs, something that Ruth knew instantly was the sound of the mosquito screen on her bedroom window popping out and falling to the lawn beneath, a sound she knew well as her best friend had snuck into her room for late night girl conversations. Heart in her throat, Ruth told her mother to wait in the kitchen while she went to check on what the noise was. Timid and scared her mother agreed and Ruth left her clutching a carving knife while Ruth picked up the baseball bat from their downstairs closet and crept back upstairs. There was no one there, the screen had indeed been popped out, but the window was still secure. That was when the banging started on the doors downstairs. Ruth turned and ran back downstairs to find her mother cowering in the kitchen. The banging built to a crescendo before it stopped and Ruth grabbed the phone, intending to call the Phelps’ home and ask if Hayley’s father could come over right away. When she picked it up though, she found that the line was dead. Next she tried her cell phone which had been plugged in and charging by the piano in the living room. When she got there, it was gone. Steadily she felt panic rising through her.
Then the knocking at the door started again. Only it was more like pounding.
Again it died down eventually but left the woman in the house feeling absolutely horrified. It was then that, thankfully, Ruth’s father came home. They told him everything that had happened and spent a few minutes trying to calm his wife and daughter, until his car alarm went off and the three of them froze in shock and fear. Outside the car’s windshield was smashed in and the engine on fire. They were effectively trapped in their house in the woods. From there things took a turn for the much worse. When they went back inside things had moved around in the living room again, Ruth almost tripped over the record player. It became clear that whoever it was out there, and there had to be more than one of them, they were able to come and go as they please. While none of the family noticed it at the time, they were in fact getting in and out through the screen door on the back porch.
Honestly that is where Ruth’s memories of the night begin to fade in and out. These days she recalls snippets of that lost time, she remembers her father making her and her mother hunker down in the bathroom, hearing him scream and finding him missing when she emerged from the safety of the windowless room. Then nothing. Then she remembers swinging a baseball bat at one of the masked invaders, the man. Then nothing. One thing she does remember is staggering downstairs in the sunlight of the early morning, covered in blood and wearing a dress from the very back of her wardrobe and finding her parents dead on the living room floor.
It was all over the papers. Parents Brutally Murdered. Daughter Only Survivor of Brutal Attack. The headlines went on and on about it for a few weeks and then it faded into obscurity, becoming one of those horrible stories that were told at campfires, slipping into urban legend for the rest of the country, but for Byberry it marked the death of a way of life, the death of the town itself. People moved out. The killers were never found. Ruth herself moved in with her God Mother in Colorado, Orchard City. Understandably she was mentally, and emotionally scarred and for moths she was withdrawn into herself, unable to really speak or be left alone. Over the years, through hours of therapy and several courses of medication to help her cope with her anxiety and depression, she began to heal and get over things; she finished up school in Colorado and then went to University and earned herself a degree in journalism.
From there Ruth moved to Los Angeles, she doesn't know why, not really, perhaps the subconscious idea of living in the 'city of lost souls' attracted her to the bright lights loud music, perhaps it was just the fact that it was far away from home, and she could separate herself from who she used to be and who she wanted to be, that she could lose herself in the hum of such a big place, that there wasn’t a wooded cabin in sight. It was the antithesis of everything her childhood had been, somewhere that she could be undamaged and whole and forget about the horrible loss and violent end to her childhood. Either way, she has no idea that she is living with a werewolf, Tommy Klein who has designs on her that have the potential to up end her world once more.