FIRST YEAR, Haylene Siobahn Callahan

[Hale Callahan]

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Ach, an interview? A good waste a’ ten minutes o’ my life ‘specially after fillin' these goddamn forms, but a good waste nonetheless, so let’s try this again eh?
Ahem.

I was given the birth name o’ Haylene Siobahn Callahan, or just Hale to whatever little I got tae call friends and the public…and Haylee tae family or if ye’re really itchin’ to relish the flavorful taste of an Irish knuckle sandwich. Oh, ye’ll love it. A real slobberknocker, that ‘un.
I’ve seen eighteen winters in me lifetime since the 19th of June though given, ain’t much of a winter in Alto Mare where I come from and somehow got me arse here as a First Year filly at the cnavshawlin’ of me older brother—believe me, I love that caffler tae death, but why he needs me tae be here instead o’ with him on the field is a mystery tae me…except maybe tae keep my limbs intact—I mean—
I’m majoring in ass-kicking, or training Pokemon in layman speak….mainly because putting me on stage is like inviting a federal disaster zone and I..uh…well, breeding just isn’t my forte. Yet.
For what it’s worth I’m straight like a ruler---that means I like the lads, aye? Trust me, them birds can be arsed-up tae deal with, what more bean-flick and I’m a girl meself. I should know. For some reason, chaps keep busting their knotholes about how I look like some Satonaka Chie girl from an anime I ain’t never even heard of---Persona or something? Aye. I suppose there are a few resemblances though I don’t see why it should matter. Don’t spend my free time looking into a mirror for a darn’s worth anyway.

What? Alright. Fine. I guess I might need tae yammer on a bit more about looks and all that crud. I’d say I’m pretty plain Jane in most aspects. Brown eyes—doe eyes me aul man used tae call ‘em—brown hair I can’t ever be bothered tae maintain fer too long a time so it’s worn neat and short the way I like it. Besides, less of something for an enemy tae grab on to in melee as my brother would always warn.
Not exactly blessed in the height department—got the short end of the stick actually at about 5’2, and that comfortable place between skinny and muffintop which I manage tae straddle pretty well.

I’ve got a pretty healthy tan from working with me brother and that’s kept me fit all this while though ye’d notice all sorts of little dings and scars like calluses and cuts here and there---no fret, they’re me basic everyday. I’ve got a decent-size Henna tattoo of a Liepard on me left arm—bit o’ a present I got off some nomads in Unova during my brother’s sojourn there. It fades every two months or so, but since it’s pretty precious tae me, ye can find me touching it up now and then.
I’m also what ye might call a…uh…late bloomer though ye make something o’ that, I’ll bloomin’ belt ya in the kisser. I suppose I’ve gotten a bit…womanly on top after several years o’ bein’ the resident washboard. N-not that it means anything, I swear.

When it comes tae clothes, ach, ye can’t go wrong with hoodies. I love hoodies—hell, I might as well have a whole closet of the damn things. Snagged a few jackets from me brother’s wardrobe as well, so on a good day ye’ll see me in one o’ two ensembles; a navy-blue hoodie with gold accents, jeans, red tanktop and a pair o’ sneakers, or if I’m feeling particularly confident, a red bomber jacket paired with a dark purple bustier, jeans and some knee-high combat boots.
Ye’ll notice reds. Lots of ‘em. My favorite color that, and sometimes I’m just inclined tae go out in nothing but that red tanktop and jeans. The color of courage…and blood.
Ye’ll also notice the startling lack of skirts---well I don’t deal skirts, and fer a good reason---tell anyone about this, and I swear, yer giblets are mine. Alright Hale…deep breath….

Sit back a little and gimme some space here---there we go. Look painful, don’t they? Aye---I used tae be a pretty decent athlete back when I was a wee bit younger…until some can o’ piss calling himself me uncle took a lead pipe to me shins so I couldn’t run from him. Broke them in several places and by the time I got aid, the wounds were festering, so yeah. These scars are gonna stay with me forever. See, this is the reason ye’ll find I’m a bit more muscular round the arms that most girls tend tae be---Legs are banjaxed, but my fists and upper body more than make up fer it.
The stump? That used tae be where my right little finger was before that ball of shite lopped it off tae send to me aul man as a threat. It's healed up and all it is now is an annoyance when I try tae strum the guitar.
Oh, the scar between me thumb and forefinger? It’s a hammer bite…and ye’re better off not knowing anything more than that.
Are we done with this? Aye? Thank the lord. Moving on fellas…

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First o’ all---ye’ll realize by now that I speak with a thick Irish accent. Don’t go bloody making fun o’ it if ye know what’s good for yer gonads.

I’ve had more boys mistake me for one of the lads than I have fingers on me hands tae count with, and if that isn’t being a tomboy in the best sense o’ the word, I don’t know what is. I guess it figures. I’ve always been a bit independent, visceral with me feelings and if I don’t like something, ye’ll be the first tae find out. Physically. I’ve just never really been all that much of a little lady once I tipped the age of five though given, me aul man and mam who’s a Ban Garda of all things never really made that much of a blathering deal of it. I haven’t exactly been ‘sporty’, as in I never really seek out the whole business of competition but certain things, like hockey just came naturally tae me as a kid who loved to rough and tumble and beat the snot outta little boys who shoved Tympoles into our lunchboxes in the lockers, the horrid little Jabberwockies…
As ye can guess, make-up, lipstick, eye-liner, they and me, we’re morbid enemies though if ye ever see me in any o’ that gaff, ye have me darling older sister tae blame. She’s the family ditz, and I love her for it but if she stuffs me into another cabaret dress, I swear—

I’m a bit of an introvert---ye’ll find that it doesn’t mean that I hate friends. I generally don’t go out of my way tae seek them out unless there’s a connection. It’s not that I’m cold or anything---I just…well…I don’t want tae need someone by me side only tae lose them later. I’ve been burned a few times in me life, intentionally and unintentionally—I’ve had a loved one taken away from me and that left me under medical suicide watch when I was eleven for a whole year. I ain’t ashamed tae admit it. I don’t ever want tae be in that place ever again. It’s part of me philosophy of strength—not just physical but emotional, and while I don’t want tae have to depend on friendship…I guess I still yearn for it deep inside. I want things tae be the way they used to, but these trust issues get in the way. Give me a chance though, and ye’ll find a friend loyal and ready to defend ye to the death---I’ve had me brother’s men describe my loyalty as more that of an Arcanine than a girl, and it’s a mantle I wear with pride.
I have no patience for idiots or dramangst, I’ll be frank with this—it’s part o’ the reason why I fit more with the lads than the ladies. I’ll be a crying shoulder, but don’t expect sweet nothings from me when ye come fer comfort. I’ll just tell ya tae man it up, move on and get better. Aye, subtlety and I have a very strained relationship.

Also, ye’ll do well not tae mistake my physicality for that of a female Neanderthal lacking intelligence. I’m a bit of a bookworm and trainin’ is over and keep a copy of ‘A Little Princess’ with me handy---it’s all dog-eared from the times I read it and the times my father read it tae me. Don’t laugh. I mean it.

When it comes tae confidence, my bar tends to fluctuate depending on me skill in a particular task---I can get arrogant when it’s something I excel in, but my real strength as I’ve found out over the past few years…is tenacity. Sheer, doggone tenacity---If I’ve got me heart set out on doing something, it’ll be at 110% or bust and I’ll only stop swinging one moment after I’m dead. Call it stupidity, call it stubbornness, call it brass balls but that’s just who I am.

On the flip side….ye can probably guess that I have some measure of anger issues. Specifically, my inability to deal with insults other than a punch to the face. That’s gotten me suspended once or twice back in the old days and while it’s…actually sort of encouraged in me brother’s ranks, I understand that it might scare people off and I’m tryin’ tae keep a muzzle on that though it’s easier said than done. Ye’ll be amazed how easy it is fer me tae go from a pretty chill bird tae a ragin’ harpy at the drop of a pin. I’ve had issues with feelings of powerlessness ever since I was ten, and it’s made he as cagey as I am today in the sense that I can get so hung up in makin’ sure that I ain’t either a load or useless that I push away aid, even if it’s sincere. That goes hand in hand with me somewhat bull-headed nature---if I can’t respect you in any way or if ye aren’t authority don’t expect me tae take yer advice seriously until it comes tae bite me in the arse and even then I’ll just get back right up and not admit it due tae pride. Aye, I can be hell tae deal with on the wrong side, eh?
Due tae an incident in me childhood, I’m also a horrible runner---there’s only so much ye can do when running for five minutes leaves ye with the feelin’ o’ hot pokers shoved up yer knees. That’s why I take the weasel’s way out when cornered and attack instead o’ run---because I honestly can’t. It should also be known that I have absolutely no qualms fightin’ dirty if I really have to. As they say in the barracks, there’s no fair in a fight, just a winner and a loser. Also, don’t ask me to cook anything fer ye. Ever. Not even Poffins. Hell, that’s probably why I ain’t into Contests---I’ll end up poisoning me poor beasties halfway. If there were ever a candidate for Undomestic Goddess, that’s me right there though given, I barbeque shit just fine. Ye can’t go wrong with meat and fire.

I’m reasonably skilled at among other things, Savate and handling firearms. Been on the shooting range since I was a teenager—why, is none o’ ye business. Me aul man was a music teacher after he left his old job, so I’ve got a degree of proficiency in a guitar as well though I can’t read notes worth a dime. As ye can tell, family is very, very important tae me and one of the biggest berserk buttons ye can ever hope tae push.
Oh, as a side note, I haven’t been tae a church since I was ten. I’d rather not talk about it.

Some o’ me favorite things in life are me brother’s Shepherd Pie, hot chocolate and a good book, usually crime or fantasy late at night, the colors red, black and blue, Symphonic Rock, orchestral pieces, legends of Lugia, and Midsummer. I believe that Alto Mare is one the most beautiful cities in the world, if not the most, and my most cherished memories are well…everything me dad was part of. I miss the man terribly---ye might say I have a bit of an Elektra Complex or something, but he’s just been large part of me life as a child. My preferred Pokemon types are Fighting, Fire, Dark and anythin’ remotely dog-like as I’ve had loads of experience with them before. I also enjoy sparring sessions, even with Pokemon---helps us bond better despite the bruises. Wear yer battle scars with pride as they always say.

Hates..ooohh I could write a book on this, but let’s just wrap it up with the main players; First of all, the color pink. Pink anything. Not even bloody roses which I prefer in reds and blacks. I can’t stand coffee and early mornings, and I’ll be liable to kick the stereo of anyone which is playin’ the unholy terror that is headache-inducing Techno and Kidz bop. Bookworm that I am, I won’t go anywhere near a Harlequin romance or chick lit with a ten-foot pole. Trash in me eyes, no offense tae anyone else.
I don’t really have a h-hated---o-okay. Maybe I do…just a small bit. I hate b-bat Pokemon ayuh? Don’t ye dare make fun o’ me, I’m warnin’ ye! I also hate Winters and Rain with a passion---cold and meself just don’t go well and I’ve never had tae face real Winters growin’ up in a maritime region.

Lads lads lads---what’s a girl tae do without ‘em? Tons actually, though that don’t mean I won’t be willin’ if some easygoing fella comes along. I ain’t high-maintenance and I certainly don’t expect a man tae wear more colors or make-up than I do (read; none), and there’s just something undeniably smoldering about a boyo who can best ye on the field and mentally as well, rare breed that those are. Mind ye, I ain’t easily impressed, partly because I don’t expect others tae be either.
Ye’ll know my taste in lads once ye understand that I’ve been a fighter fer most o’ me life since I was ten, and a large part o’ me ambition is tae become good enough a trainer tae enlist with the Alto Mare Navy and serve alongside me brother. Family over everythin’ and if I can help keepin’ him alive on the fields, then all this is gonna be worthit. Every damn second of it.

Are we done here? Aye? Brilliant. And that’s me in a nutshell. A bleedin’ large nutshell.

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Salaam! Call me Nadia and I found this site through Lorelei on Zapdoszulu. I currently live in +8.00 GMT time. I also play N/A and I average 500 plus words per post. if you need to contact me you can through Private Messaging.

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