Thalia Grace

[Thalia Grace]

Thalia Grace
We're young enough to say
Oh, this is gonna be a good life

I SEE YOUR NAME IN LIGHTS
kid, we'll take the world by storm, it isn't that hard

Name: Thalia Grace
Age: Fifteen(Immortal)
Species: Demigod
Olympian Parent: Zeus
Occupation: Lieutenant of Artemis
Sexuality: Asexual
Fatal Flaw: Ambition. She desires power even though she knows she does not need it.

I WISH YOU COULD SEE YOUR FACE
right now, 'cause you're grinning like a fool

Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Weight: 137
Other Characteristics: None
Overall: Thalia is slightly pretty but still has a very tough look. She basically doesn't really give a damn to what her appearance is like. Her overall look would be tough and grungy with a hint of beauty.

SO TELL ME WHAT YOUR BEST FRIEND KNOWS
that i don't know

Personality: Grungy, tough, competitive, athletic, strong, complex, hard,
Family: Jason Grace
History: Thalia is the daughter of Zeus and Ms. Grace, a beautiful actress in her prime, but had spiraled into alcoholism in later years. After Thalia's birth, Zeus left the Grace household (as is custom for gods) and Ms. Grace became unstable. When Thalia was about seven, Zeus returned in his Roman aspect, Jupiter. Thalia noted that Zeus in his Roman form was more fatherly and sterner towards her and spoke Latin very often. Within the year, Jason Grace, a Roman demigod, was born. Zeus felt obliged to keep appearing at Ms. Grace's house to please her, but departed a second time because she persisted him incessantly to grant her eternal beauty or a visit to Olympus. When Thalia was nine and Jason was two, their mother took them for a picnic, but when Thalia went to the car for the picnic basket, Hera/Juno took Jason away to Lupa, a she-wolf (and the Roman counterpart of Chiron) at Camp Jupiter. Thalia was heartbroken by her brother's "death" and called his disappearance "the last straw" with her mother and ran away from home, never to return, being this the reason why she only uses her mother's last name (Grace) only when it's extremely necessary.

After running away, Thalia came across another demigod, Luke Castellan, a son of Hermes. They became friends and joined forces to fight the monsters that attacked them. It is assumed by some fans that they started a romantic relationship. When Thalia was twelve, she and 14-year-old Luke found/ran into Annabeth Chase, a plucky blonde-haired seven year old. Luke admired her courage, and gave her his knife, and promised that he wouldn't fail her like her family had. The three of them stayed in different safe houses for protection and shelter, but when their nearest one was destroyed, Luke was forced to return to his home for supplies. The three of them met May Castellan, Luke's mother, and Hermes, Luke's father. As May bandages Thalia's injured leg, Luke and Hermes got into an argument, causing Luke to storm out of the house with Annabeth and Thalia following not too far behind.

Soon they were found by a satyr named Grover Underwood who tried to get them to Camp Half-Blood. Together, the quartet traveled to Camp Half-Blood but were chased by monsters from the Underworld because Hades discovered Thalia's existence and was angered that Zeus had broken his oath not to sire anymore children. They would have escaped, except for the fact that a Cyclops in Brooklyn stopped them so that monsters could catch up. The Cyclops held Thalia, Luke, and Grover in the air to direct the monsters in their direction, but Annabeth saved them by stabbing the Cyclops in the foot.

They also met the Hunters of Artemis, and Zoë Nightshade almost convinced Thalia to join the Hunt, but Thalia refused to leave Luke. She and Zoë argued and Zoë told her that Luke would disappoint her. Once they reached camp, a hoard of monsters attacked (all three Furies and an army of hellhounds), and sacrificing her life on Half-Blood Hill to protect Annabeth, Luke, and Grover. Zeus took pity on his daughter and to prevent her soul from going to Hades, Zeus turned Thalia into a pine tree.

Thalia hated to be called "Thalia Grace" saying, "That's my mother's surname. I don't use it," when it was brought up. Her mother died in a car accident two years before Thalia's resurrection. Thalia might have been named after the ancient Greek muse Thalia of comedy and idyllic poetry or she could have been named after Thalia one of the Three Graces handmaidens of Aphrodite

Likes:
*Her friends
*Lady Artemis
*Hunting
*Her brother
*Camp Half-Blood
Dislikes:
*Heights
*Traitors
*Dishonor
*Cruelty
*Hera
Fears: Heights
Powers: Can minipulate the Mist, air control, lightning

AND YOU LIKE ME JUST THE WAY I'M NOT
you like me just the way i'm not

Your Alias: Avie
Roleplaying Experience: A lot on other sites
Did You Read the Rules?: Yes
Other Characters: None.
Roleplay Sample:
It was such a nice day for a Hogwarts winter. This is what was going through Marisol’s head as she strolled down the edge of Hogwarts’ lake. Not a lot of people were outside, because it was cold, no point denying it. But it was sunny, and that refreshing kind of cold, not that I-think-someone-is-trying-to-amputate-my-toes kind of cold. And refreshing cold was Marisol’s favorite kind of weather. It was also just what she needed.

Saying she was overloaded with homework was like saying Einstein had been dumb. Marisol loved school, but she could only take so much without totally breaking down and starting to cry in front of everyone—embarrassing, much? And yes, she could deal with a lot, but deadlines and a lot of them—those were what threw her and made her just…break down! N.E.W.T.s were a lot to work towards, especially when you remembered that Marisol’s greatest ambition was to become a Healer—top grades were required. Only a few people had become them in the last few years, Marisol had noted, but she was determined to up that number by one. She was going to!

As she watched the icy blue water of the lake ripple, Marisol tried remembering the names of the people who had, but the only person she could remember at that moment was Opheliya Warrington, who had also been a Ravenclaw. This made Marisol stand a little prouder. Ravenclaws were common candidates for Healers. Probably the House with the most Healers was Ravenclaw.

Sighing, Marisol recalled the assignments that had made her flee Ravenclaw Tower. Three and a half rolls of parchment on the founding of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers for History of Magic; thirty-six inches on the history of Love Potions for Potions...ugh! An essay on the Seventeenth Century Wizards’ Rights Campaign of the Mariana Islands...no wait, that had been due last week...oh my God, she hadn’t finished it!—Wait yes, she had.

Head swimming with all the assignments she had yet to finish, Marisol knelt down on the dewy grass to unpack her bag she had brought with her. A blanket so she wouldn’t have to sit on the grass, a novel (Of Love and Squibs, a best-selling book to teenage witches), a bottle of pumpkin juice, and a package of Chocolate Frogs. Perfect for a few hours down at the lake to relax and unwind.

Lying on her stomach with her book open in front of her, Marisol began to read of the main character in Of Love and Squibs, Ciara Crawford. Ciara attended Hogwarts and was a sixth-year Gryffindor. Her twin sister, Isabel, was a Squib, a secret she was trying to keep. This reminded Marisol of her own twin, Allison, who had been adopted by the Shielding family. Marisol wanted to meet her twin more than anything, and knew she was at Hogwarts. She just had yet to find her.

Marisol became absorbed in the world of Ciara Crawford, her friends, and her boyfriend, Joe Middleton. The story reminded her of her own life.

”I can’t believe the amount of homework we have!” Ciara groaned as she and Joe headed out of the Potions classroom. “I mean, forty-eight inches? Has Professor Farcrow gone insane? We have lives!”
Joe laughed at this. “What are you aiming to be once you get out of Hogwarts, Ciara?”
Ciara rolled her eyes. “You know what I want to be! I want to be an Auror, Joe. How many times have I told you that? I thought you knew everything about me!” she mocked him, giggling as her dark brown hair swung like a pendulum, rhythmically. It was distracting to Joe, who replied calmly.
“I know you want to be an Auror, Ci! And if you want to be, you need top grades. Which includes completing Farcrow’s assignment.”
“You nerd!” Ciara giggled.

After this short scene, Marisol paused to eat a Chocolate Frog. She normally didn’t collect the cards, but this one she kept. Hector Dagworth-Granger! Maybe it would have something that would help her with her History of Magic assignment. Not likely, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she? She took a swig of pumpkin juice and continued reading. The next chapter was involving Ciara and her best friend, named Asia. Marisol was jealous of Asia—large sparkling green eyes, fair skin, golden hair that would make that special boy fall to his knees and beg for her hand in marriage at first sight, something Marisol would pay all the Galleons in Britain for if that could happen to her. Asia was much like Marisol in personality, though, and Marisol admired the character for many reasons.

As Asia and Ciara climbed the stairs to their dormitory, Ciara recounted Joe’s words to Asia. Asia took them seriously. “He’s right, Ciara! You know the Aurors all had top grades. If you want to help bring You-Know-Who down, you need to get all O grades!”
Ciara laughed. “Completing this one assignment will not kill Him, Asia!”
Asia sighed. “Ciara, your education basically determines your future. You need to take school seriously. It’s about time, girly!” They both shrieked with laughter—girly was one of their inside jokes, still funny after its creation in their third year.

The book was really dumb, but Marisol liked it. She could relate to all the characters and all their problems. She took another swig of pumpkin juice and a large bite of chocolate frog as she read:

As they finally reached their dormitory, the girl they tried hard to avoid stuck her head out of the door. Alice Dimitman was bossy and way too pretty. She wore enough lipstick that you could paint the whole of Hogwarts with her lips if necessary. “Will you two shut up?” she asked. “I’m trying to work, so I won’t land a dumb job as petty as Auror!” she slammed the door in their faces. Asia shrieked with laughter.
“Petty!” she yelled, laughing, and yanked on the door so they could get in.

At this point, Marisol shut the book. She didn’t feel like reading, so she dug something else out of her bag; her knitting, which she had forgotten was in there. It was a blue, green, and gray striped hooded sweater. She had thought she had somehow lost it, but now she had it! Letting her fingers slide into the familiar routine of knit and purl, or whatever it is, she watched this simple cloth transform into something resembling a shirt. As she switched her yarn color, she finished her second chocolate frog—this one was a card for the witch Catrine Delmung, somebody she’d never heard of, who had apparently been the first woman Quidditch player on a professional team. Shrugging, she shoved it in her bag—Maybe Donald, one of her housemates, would want it. Donald was the Quidditch Captain, after all. He loved Quidditch with a passion.

Working with the more coarse gray yarn, Marisol had a lot of time to think. She composed about six inches of her Seventeenth Century Wizards’ Rights Campaign of Mariana Island essay in her head and locked it in her memory. Her memory was wonderful—she barely ever forgot anything. She wrote her essays in her head a lot—then she could copy it all down later. It saved a lot of time and unnecessary hassle.

As she began working on the hood, a small owl with gray feathers fluttered down next to her. It was her barn owl. ”Kenzie!” she exclaimed delightedly—her owl had a letter clutched in its beak. ”Thanks, honey!” she said as the owl flew off to join its friends in the Owlery.

Marisol slit the letter open. It was from her mother, who wrote to her about three times a month. An update from home. Nothing special, except for that her cousin’s wedding had been a wonderfully cultural experience and that her mum wished she had been their. Cousin Terry, who was Irish, had married an Indian woman, Noor. Noor, Marisol loved. She was twenty-five and just brilliant! She had attended Beauxbatons Academy, so she knew French. Noor was something of an older sister to Marisol.

As Marisol skimmed the letter, she felt a familiar prickle on the back of her neck—you know the feeling, like someone’s watching you. Marisol turned around and jumped. She had been correct. Someone was.

template made by megg on camp olympus. lyrics credit to all time low.

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