FƒAORDE, meredith

[Meredith Fƒaorde]

MERI! STOLE YOUR HEART;

They call me ERYN and I've shot for the moon yeah… times.
You know you all love me and you can contact me via eh, check Evans.

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» There Goes my Hero;

THe birth certificate reads Meredith Georgiana Fƒaorde
But Everyone Calls Me Meri
Ive Been Breaking Hearts for twenty years
The say I Am delightful girl
Ive Been Told I Look Like jessica alba

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» Rock and Roll, Baby.;

I am so tall five six
And I Weigh you weren’t brought up a gentleman, were you?
Ive Bee Ninked And Pierced none
They always say I look like
Eyes:
Eyes are easy to do, since they take the least telling, even if they are said to be ‘the doorway to the soul’. Seeing as Meredith doesn’t actually believe she has a soul, the point in immaterial. In any case, Meredith’s eyes are brown. Bright brown, not the rather dull and boring browns that most people think of when they say brown. They’re bright and expressive if very mischievous and something most sane people steer well clear of. To be truthful they’re almost hazelnut, hazelnut nearer the centre towards the pupil, but the iris is a rather off changing of colour. I know, scary. Nearer the edge, like a fading firework, it’s a darker ring of brown. Edging further and further towards that dull brown of old bark. But never actually reaching it. It just sort of fades out and then stops otherwise the whole of her eye would be brown and that would really be rather disturbing. So it just changes from brown to white, as most do.
Pupils are obviously black, no colour, unless of course you count black as a colour. I’ve always counted black as absence of colour, or is that white. Black could be every colour mixed up, but it doesn’t particularly matter, they are black. Then again, the more detail you get into, you start sounding as if you’re trying to sell a catalogue kitchen rather than describe an eye.
Hair:
Ah, starting at the top. Meredith’s hair is long, seeing as she does rarely cut it. Reasons for this are unknown, she doesn’t cut it short anyway. She has it trimmed, but she never really likes to get it cut as in…cut. Short doesn’t suit her. So its long, but not ridiculously so, around to the centre of her back, and when its trimmed, just below her shoulder blades. As hair goes red it’s a pale redish-aubern colour. Nothing special its just a…redish-aubern. Highlights. Some of them, actually most of them, are fake. Some of them are natural, but not really natural in the sense of they’re now never grown out properly. They may look natural, but that is what money can do for you, if you chose to spend your cash on that. She doesn’t have a fringe as such, she never liked having one. She does, if you can count it as a fringe, a fringe, but its about the same length as the rest of her hair, so therefore doesn’t particularly count, or not in my book anyway. She had a fringe once when she was younger, but let it grow out. Usually she lets her hair down and leaves it down, but on occasions it can be up in a plait, pony-tail or bun. It depends how she feels in the mornings and if she’s going to go for a run or not. If she’s not really bothered when its left down. A very complex and complicated thing, hair.
Clothing Style(s):
Well, expensive is one word. She doesn’t show it off as much as she could, usually going around in jeans, skinny or flared, it doesn’t really matter to her. Its only clothing. She’s not exactly a trend setter, but she not really a trend follower either. Jeans are traditional, so she mostly lives in jeans. Nothing wrong with jeans, so she wears them. She’s not really one to ware skirts, although on occasion dresses aren’t unusual. She is rather strict about the tops she wares, though. It has to be the right sort of weather, right sort of year and just right. She’s also slightly obsessed with coats and jackets. A large collection of coats, jackets and just general over garments belong in her wardrobe. Not that she seems to mind much, keeps you warm in the chill as It were.
This Is What Makes Me Stand Out her hair, it’s purty…

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» Chances Taken, Hope Embraced;

I Adore Psychology
• Athletics – very keen runner
• Cookery – sometimes, but she doesn’t usually let on
• Morocco
• Running
• Finding the Answer
• Tony
• Money
• Her families bank account
I Abhor Shoes – what they’re only footwear
• Barbie dolls – As in the real Barbie dolls and the human ones.
• Clothes shopping – absolutely loathes it
• Being cut off
• Law Enforcement.
• Cats – never really figured in her life, and they’re just boring
• Her old family dog
I Rock
• Avoiding
• Changing the subject
• Not thinking into the future
I Suck
• Not thinking into the future
• Thinking everything will resolve itself.
I Do
• Belief that everything will turn around without her help
• Tap her fingers a lot
I Want to find a happy, simple life again.
I Fear
• Prison
• Very big dogs
• Downtown Chicago
• Bankers
I Shut up
• She was married
• She hates sushi
I am
SHY
She's not exactly withdrawn, just shy. When you get to know her, she's very lively, if logical. Logical being she won't correct you, but she will find the best way out of a tough situation, as long as logic is involved. Logic is good. She's friendly and likes to be doing something. She's very...smiley. You won't see her a lot of the time without a sort of half smile or just a twinkle in her brown eyes. She likes to be in company of small groups. She doesn't like huge groups, but small and medium is fine. She likes to talk (like me). She won't go off on rants (like I would) but she will answer you and talk to you in high spirits. You'll hardly ever see in on a low. She never seems to be depressed, she's very good at hiding her feelings from everyone

LOYAL
She's had a best friend or a close group of friends all her life. She's very loyal, she does get very protective of her close friends and family. In other words, you hit her friend, she'll hit you. It's a big evil circle (grr, arrrhg). Then I suppose she is violently loyal, perhaps. She finds it easy to find friends. Usually, she loves to do anything with people and is up for anything. She can be quite daring, and a bit of a risk-taker. But as they say, do something that scares you every day.

DEFINATE
She's very determined, usually. She'll do what she wants and she'll do it when she wants. She can hold up her end of an argument and can throw insults like a professional because she is. She can be quite devious, she can escape from most places if she wants to. She doesn't like to be kept in the dark or kept in captivity, she'll always strive to find a way out, somewhere to leave her currant predicament, it may not be a safe, easy or sane escape route, just as long as it works. She's always been good at fighting for her cause. She does, however, know her own mind. She doesn't battle with herself and ethical dilemas never seem to bother her, she'll do what she thinks is right. And that would usually be for the good of everyone, usually. Sometime she just doesn't care.

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» I Know I Won't Be Home At All;

I Came From (FATHER) Robert Primo O'Mara - None - Location: Hopefully, hell
(MOTHER) Anita 'Annie' O'Mara - Accountant - Location: Bristol
I Share My Dna With Madison O'Mara - Twenty Six - Accountant - Location: Bristol
Robbie O’Mara – Twenty-Four – Police Officer – Location: Pinewood
I Come From Hair Haven, Ireland
But I Live Here Now Pinewood
This Is Who I was
Born and raised in the small Irish village of Fair Haven, Meredith lived a perfectly normal life. It had its ups and downs, mostly in the form of Robert Primo O’Mara, but her life was rather uneventful. She had two loving elder siblings that looked after her and made sure she stayed out of trouble. Which she did. She was a very competent and intelligent student. She went to school, came back, did her homework, helped around the house. She was a good girl. It sounds rather clichéd, but she was.

She was young when her father was sent to prison, so it didn’t affect her much. She hadn’t been around him for long enough and she didn’t know him well enough. It might seem selfish, but she more or less left it up to her brother and older sister. She was the youngest, and therefore ‘the one to look after’. She was rather clumsy, managing to always trip over and scrape her knees. Nothing serious, just small things. Dropping the occasional book or pencil. She grew rather fast, which didn’t help with her clumsiness. Meredith tended to walk into doors with her shoulders or knock into tables. It was mildly embarrassing.

She moved with her family to American, but was sent to school. Which she truly disliked. Her sister was getting married to some investment banker who she truly disliked, her brother was joining the Marines, and her mother was an Accountant. It wasn’t exactly a dream job, especially since she was closest to her brother. It was here she took up riding. It was the only thing she could do to really fit into America with her strong Irish accent and difference of customs. There was a ranch just down the road which taught both Western and English. English was less expensive to teach and so she offered to work at the stable to raise the money for lessons. Many people did, and she was taught English style riding by a nice old man.

She loaned her first horse from that stable, a young chestnut called Alfie. Alfie was a perfect first horse, well pony. He was 14.2 and a part bred welsh section D. He was a complete angel, did whatever asked of him, but he just wasn’t around for too long, since Meredith wasn’t either. Their family had a history of moving around and they moved back to the UK, Bristol in fact. The joys of whatever Bristol was to bring, if there were any.

Actually, there was Tony. She was seventeen, riding a newly loaned mare from a local stable. Robbie had just come back from his last deployment and was taking some time off with a friend in Ireland. How she wished she could go back to Ireland. But, she got Wales instead. As a treat from her elder sister, they went up to see them in their large house in Wales. Madison’s husband wasn’t Welsh, but he had a large estate there which he had bought the year before. The house was huge and the gardens extensive. Madison had become the perfect house wife, organizing garden parties and inviting high class randomers that Meredith would hardly ever wish to meet.

Instead she stayed in the party for the first twenty minutes or so and then ducked into the stables where the two big grey carriage horses were rustling around softly. But, obviously someone else had the same idea as she was joined moments later by a young Welsh lord named Antony Ffaorde. And it doesn’t take a genius to wonder what happened next considering Meredith no longer has the last name of O’Mara. Yes, they got married, but Tony was more of an impulse buyer. And a git at that. He was an actor, that was for sure. That was what had drawn Meredith in the first place. But that was it, an actor. There wasn’t an ounce of truth in what he said whilst courting and reverted back to his ways after the marriage. Meredith was supposed to be the trophy wife, but that wasn’t going to happen.

So, Meredith started the divorce proceedings. She had nothing to hold her down to him, the only thing he’d ever given her was jewelry and horses. She’d keep them. She was sensible, and if it wasn’t working, it wasn’t working. She was rectify this by ending the marriage. She kept the last name because the hassle of getting a new passport was too much. She was picked up by her brother and taken to Pinewood where he’d started working, bringing her prize winning horse with her. It seemed like a logical thing to do.

This Is Who I am life is complicated

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» This Heart It Beats;

I Lust Straight
I Love gentlemen, slightly messed up men
I Loathe jerks, idiots, people who are full of themselves
Maybe I loved married – Tony Fƒaorde, now divorced
Maybe I Didnt None

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» This Is How We'll Dance;

I Bow Down Dudette
I Am Awesome Yes I am

Evan ran a hand through his dark hair. He hadn't brushed it for a while, not that he frequently did. It tended to do as it liked no matter what he did to it. It was a little longer than he usually wore it, but not noticably so. Not that anyone knew him around here anyway, that was the whole point. The car was old, but at least it still ran. He was pretty good with engines and cars, so it might be able to fix it if something went wrong. Hopefully it wouldn't though. He didn't have the money for anything at the moment. He shifted his hand on the steering wheel as he looked out the drawn down window at the scenery. It was so different to Scotland, but pleasantly so. His dark eyes were still on the look out for anything remotely interesting. A rider he could ask something of, or a garage that might have a vacancy for a worker. He mostly needed someone to stay as well as work, but, was that asking a bit too much?

Evan's shoulders were starting to become way too stiff, in the same position. The road wasn't much better. It was completely straight with only the occasional bush on either side. At least Scotland was greener than this. Drumming his right hand on the stearing wheel, Evan pulled over onto the side of the road. He pushed open the driver's door and stepped out, his black converses leaving their laces trailing behind. It was only when he stood on one and almost tripped up that he actually noticed. He caught himself on the side of the car in not exactly the most elegant fashion, but still remained upright. He knelt down to tie the laces back up, well mostly he just tied them in a knot and pushed the trailing laces down the inside of the heel. It'd served him well for years. He straightened up to be met with the mournful brown eyes of his faithful companion. He'd come all the way from Scotland with Evan, the Irish setter cross Collie. He was a little terror sometimes, but well trained. Evan let the seat down so Match could clamber out, tail wagging.

Leaning against the back of his car, one foot resting behind him on the bumper, he leant his guitar across his knees. It wasn't flashy or new, it was actually very old and worn, like his jeans. But it was well cared for and well tuned. He made a special effort to keep the old instrument in good nick. Match was snuffling around a bush at the side of the road, head stuck in the foliage. He was sitting there strumming gently when a large Land Rover pulled up, the huge wheels mud spotted. He stopped and looked up, leaning one arm along the length of the acoustic guitar. "You alright there?" A middle-aged woman asked, drawing down the window of the car. "Yes, thanks. Trying to find a stable round here." He replied truthfully, his scottish accent clear. "Oh, well there's one about twenty miles back the way ya came." Evan smiled, ah, that just made his day. "Thank-you. A lot." He gave her a wide smile, diposited his guitar in his back seat and gunned the engine. He'd bought a british made car so he was driving on the correct side of the car. For him anyway. Match sat up in the front seat with him, panting lightly

The car bustled its way along just as he noticed a large sign. He pulled the car over and smiled. A stables, perfect. Gunning the engine back into life, since it had stalled, Evan followed the instructions on the sign, or what he could remember of them, he had to go back and check, since American directions were hard to inturpret, and he had never had great spacial awareness. He was a lot better on a horse, suprisingly. He finally found the main entrance with a similar sign beside the entrance. He pulled the beat-up black car into the parking lot over the gravel and took the key out of the ignition. The engine died down as Evan stepped out of the car, brushing down his slightly worn jeans. It couldn't be said that Evan had money, since he really didn't, and especially now.

Looking around the stables, the light wind whipping at his light scottish rugby shirt. As he usually did, he leant his hands in the pockets of his jeans and went to have a look around. It looked perfectly pleasant, but quite quiet. Then again, it was only six thirty in the morning. People would either be arriving or had just arrived. He'd always been there at about six thirty when he'd worked at the stud farm back in Scotland, so it was a likely assumption others would too. He pulled out his guitar and climbed up onto the roof of his car, probably the most comfortable place to sit and started lightly strumming. He didn't know what he was playing or if it was anything at all, but at least it was quiet and tuneful. Match had followed him out the open door and, sniffed along the ground, still staying close to the car, but taking in all the new smells of this stable yard

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Thanks Isa for helping =]

[E. Johnson]

Meri! STOLE MY HEART!

Welcome to Pinewood Stable!

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