Name/Element:
Typhoon
Desired Nickname:
Ty, Phoon, Phoonie, Tropi
Gender:
female
Likes:
*warm, tropical climates, where she can dominate the area*
*her massive tornadoes, which cause destruction*
*silent areas, where she can relax and enjoy some relative peace*
*to listen to music, and hum to the tune*
*pop, symphany, techno, and little dupstep make up her music genres*
*to reflect her emotions in her storms*
*feel the wind go by*
*draw, read, write, or paint anything with or about her tornadoes and hurricanes*
*the colors grey and blue*
*being the leader*
*looked upon when it comes to descisions*
*learning and improving her knowledge*
*legends and mythsabout torrents of wind*
*weather patterns*
*silence*
*wind chimes*
*bird feathers, often decorating her horns with them*
*studying small details, which add onto the bigger things*
*pondering on the basics of life, and adding a little bit of her own knowledge that she obtained*
*becoming wise, and giving wisdom to those who are close to her*
*being right*
*SPACE, her own privacy*
*being patient with others*
*being kind and friendly, also getting the same emotions in return*
Dislikes:
*being wrong*
*loud noises, although her tornadoes don't mind her*
*mean people, she often sends a cyclone after them*
*dark colors*
*no privacy or secretcy, a room with no corners*
*lightning*
*gloomy surroundings*
*artic areas*
*dumd or non-intelligent people*
*kids, she HATES kids*
*dry areas, likes deserts or polar wastelands*
*earthquakes*
*buses*
*trains*
*mining caves, because of the little amount of light, depth, and the moist, murking caves*
*heavy metal*
*rock*
*operas-oh, she only wishes to suck the singers up into an enormous hurricane*
*endings, wether they are from literature, lives, art, or music*
*evil, but hey-isn't she some-what evil?*
*catastrophy*
*feeling guilty after her actions, as she tries to hide this emotion*
*bottling up her feelings, ending up as monsterous cyclones*
Personality:
Typhoon is usually a sweet, kind, wise s.o.e. that spends her time around the coast, often the pacific. She likes to assist in any way that is needed, as well as being kind to others. She has a tendency to be the first to start a coversation, which turns into an unbreakable friendship. She is wise when it comes to knowledge and words, as she ries to discover new meanings and use them in her everyday life. She sometimes discards words that involve slang or are over-used, and improves her speaking, making herself seem mature. She is a strong girl, creating cyclones with ease. Wether they can fit in her palm, or are as tall as seventy stories, she will show no effort whatsoever. When she becomes stressed or over-comed with emotions, she shuns herself from others, and bottles her feelings up, hoping to not cause any concern. It sometimes works, however, as she will paste on a false smile, looking like a toothy-grinned fool. But, on the other hand, it doesn't, as she is softly asked about her condition. She will usually deny that anything is wrong with her, but, she will accept the truth, and explain her worries to those that are close to her. She has a small immature side to her, which she can show when she is happy. She would laugh, giggle, and even do things she would NEVER do! She would be loud, wild, humorous, bold, crazy, and well, insane! She is usually depicted as a well-kept, shy, and neat soe, not bothering to do things that would ruin her reputaion. But, then again, when she is immature, she will. She is usually hard to win when it comes to a date, which you would have to put extreme effort into the relationship, but also keep your word, until she will decide. She has many friends, but chooses only a few as her best friends, sharing minor secrets with them. She never would share anything worth dear to her, as she would balance out the pro's and con's of her words, before she would say them.
Story:
"Welcome to San Diego, California," announced the soft, sweet voice of the flight attendant. Her voice then went out in a crackle, as she released the button for the microphone. I rolled my eyes, as I closed my book, and unbuckled my seatbelt. I had exchanged a quick, releiving glance at the passenger beside me, who was a man in his thirties. He looked tan, wearing a hawiian button-up shirt, flip-flops, and sunglasses over his partially bald head. He was a round guy, taller than me by half a foot. He smiled half-heartedly back, out of a cherry red face. Ignoring this, I shoved my book into my tote, and scooted out of the aisle, before reaching up to the top compartment, where my backpack is. I grabbed my blue backpack in one swift, yet brisk motion, as I walked down the middle aisle to the front of the plane.
The flight attendants and captains waved goodbye with a plastered-on smile, talking with a cooing tone, as we shuffled out of the plane. My back had been aching from the long, over-night flight, stiff from looking down and reading the whole time. I shifted my gaze down, seeing a small space below, and spotted the runway's concrete floor, roughly twenty feet down. Shuttering, I looked back up,and made my way up the slowly inclining slope leading to the airport's gate. They could use a remodel, I thought critically, as I scanned the sunny, cool terminal, the white, glossy floor reflecting the light entering the windows. I sighed, and walked briskly past waiting passengers; men, women, babies, children, teenagers, and seniors.
The big, crowded walkway of the terminal was surrounded by small stores and food carts, displaying their items and food for expesnive prices. The aroma of coffee and other smells made me nearly gagged, but I kept walking, and stepped onto an excelator, watching the floor I was just on, slowly rise above my head, and out of site. Repositioning my tote on my shoulder, as well as pulling my backpack closer to my leg, I impatiently waited for the excelator to come down to the first story. It did after a couple of minutes, and I walked off, scanning the numerous people around for my chaffier.
The terminal bussled with impatience, people walking here and there. Some were standing in place, either eating, or talking on their cell phones. Bah..pathetic.. I mumbled in her mind, regarding the humans like primative creatures. I then weaved in and out of clusters of chatting people, before finding a man with a sign labeled, "TYPHOON". I smiled, knowing he was my driver. He had peircing green eyes, black hair, and tan skin. He was roughly six feet, and judging from my book, he was young. He smiled as he saw me get near, as he put the sign down. "Hello, Miss Typhoon," he said, straitening his tie. He walked to get my bags, but paused. "May I..?" he asked.
"Sure, go ahead," I answered, giving him a false smile. He smiled back, and grabbed my bags, walking me to the car. I followed close behind, making sure to not bump into any travelers on the way to the car. People scooted, shuffled, walked, or even ran out of my way, as my eyes serveyed the area. click click. Turning my head, it turns out he had unlocked the car, and was stuffing the bags delicately in the back. He closed it with a gentle slam, and with that, escorted me to the passenger seat. He opened the door, which I then had my part by climbing in, and closing the door. He rounded the front of the car, got in, and ignited the engine. It made a muffled roar as it started, and smoothly rolled over the concrete, the scenery going by faster and faster. By this point it was getting hard to focus on something in the distance for so long, becuase it would vanish as fast as it had appeared. I sighed, and faced the window, looking out of it.
"So, Miss Typhoon," the chaffier began nervously, trying to pull on a calm demeanor. Apparently, he was failing, because his cheeks were scarlet. He gripped the wheel tightly, as his knucles were bone white. "Where had you come from?"
I gulped silently, and cleared my throat. I had to think fast, trying to analze my past adventures. Portugal...no...Spain? Never! Hm...New Jersey? Maybe... I thought with speed. "Livingston, New Jersey," I answered, turning to face the young man. He nodded slightly, keeping his eyes on the freeway. He blew out of his mouth, trying to brush away a strand of hair. I looked at him once more, and quickly turned to the window. I shook my head disaprovingly, Typhoon! my mind scolded itself. I shrugged, still looking out the window.
"I..I have an uncle that lives in Livingston," he mumbled, as we got off the freeway, and passed several stores, including an outlet mall. I nodded at this, and sighed, trying to refresh my brain. Memories fluttered by, most of them of Livingston, and how I stayed at a house beside the lake, and every summer, sat outside, watching the fireflies come out. I smiled gently, before turning my attention back to the chaffier.
"That's...Nice...It's good to know someone who lived in the same area," I answered pathetically. We were now close to the house, pulling up against the gray curb. The car lurched to a stop, and turn off, as the chaffier stopped the car, and got out. I closed my eyes for a moment. The warm, summer air went into my nostrils, warming me up with a happy, relaxed feeling. I sighed, and opened my eyes once again. "Um..Max," I began, remembering is name. He looked up, and smiled, as he ran to the front of the house. "..Just leave them there. And here," I pulled out a tip, and watched him drive off.
I put my bags inside on the couch, and walked back out, checking my watch. Perfect. It was ten till twelve in the afternoon, time to go to the beach. I began a slow pace, as a walk, then picked it up, jogging vigorously. I looked around as the scene moved by, and spotted three people. I shook my head, and they looked at me, the three men whistled. I narrowed my eyes in disgust, and, with a flick of my finger, sent one sprawling to the ground. The only thing left of the ordeal was a small tornado, which faded as fast as it had come. He made an audible whumpth as he hit the pavement, and I kept jogging, as if nothing happened. the men gaped at my action, and ran to their fallen friend, displaying a sense of fear. I ignored them, and as I was half-way across the street, and black corvette pulled up beside me. Frowning, I pulled to a stop, hearing the engine making muffled growls, as it lurched to a silent stop.
"....Excuse me, Miss, what are you doing?" an iron-branded voice demanded, as the tinted window rolled down, displaying his stern, serious, angular face to me. He had a military buz-cut, fair skin, and tinted sunglasses on, as if he was blind. I had a look of hatred displayed on my face, seeing that he chuckled after looking at me. "Ah...Typhoon...As you are properly called...you are an unpredictable yet funny person..." he said with a devilish grin, like he was mocking me.
I gritted my teeth for a minute, before answering sternly, "If would just leave me be...I would be happy.." with a slight growl at the end, emphasising that I wanted to be alone. In my mind, I could imagine my tail whisking impatiently, as my ears were plastered to my head in frusteration. I gripped onto this thought, but soon threw it away, because it would be of no use for the humans to know who I truly am, now would it? I held my ground in this angry state of mine, feeling my cheeks grow hotter within seconds, and my hands sore from clentching them into tight fists for so long.
He chuckled, and then snapped his fingers. Before I knew it, two men popped from the nerby bushes, grasped my arms, and held them behind my back violently, as if I would kill them whenever I would have the chance. Sh*t....How will I get out of this? I moaned, debating this one-on-one arguement with myself as they shoved my into the car. The man, chuckled, and clapped. "Bravo! Bravo! I am stunned, Typhoon, that you didn't even argue...now, that is suspicious, now, is it not? I am Veniza, mind you," he said, rubbing his hands together in a pleased motion.
I grumbled in response, and with a long motion of my fist, a hurricane came crashing down beside the car. Sure, now that you might realize this, California has no tornadoes nor hurricanes! Then again, you're wrong: at least, when I am in California you are. This hurricane was roughly fifty feet tall, thirty feet wide, as it's torrenting wind wrapped around the car violently, with an ancient sense of vengence. I jumped out of the car, feeling the air lift me up.
Before I knew it, I was at the top of the massive cyclone, grinning down at my pathetic 'captor'. Or, as I would say, "failed jailer". He looked up ruthelessly, and raised his fist, before my cyclone sucked him up. It spun him for a moment, before releasing him, sending him three hundred feet away. Veniza was sprawled against a building, or, rather, he was sprawled inside the building. The pressure of the air forced him to crash through the building violenetly, as he was found in the middle. I grinned, and made my little cyclone go through the streets, and towards the beach, where I made it dissolve, until it was a pathetic dirt devil. As I saw Veniza's feared face fade into the distance, all I could say with a grin was: "Austa la vista, baby!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here is some art of Typhoon that I have made (please do not steal):
Typhoon
Desired Nickname:
Ty, Phoon, Phoonie, Tropi
Gender:
female
Likes:
*warm, tropical climates, where she can dominate the area*
*her massive tornadoes, which cause destruction*
*silent areas, where she can relax and enjoy some relative peace*
*to listen to music, and hum to the tune*
*pop, symphany, techno, and little dupstep make up her music genres*
*to reflect her emotions in her storms*
*feel the wind go by*
*draw, read, write, or paint anything with or about her tornadoes and hurricanes*
*the colors grey and blue*
*being the leader*
*looked upon when it comes to descisions*
*learning and improving her knowledge*
*legends and mythsabout torrents of wind*
*weather patterns*
*silence*
*wind chimes*
*bird feathers, often decorating her horns with them*
*studying small details, which add onto the bigger things*
*pondering on the basics of life, and adding a little bit of her own knowledge that she obtained*
*becoming wise, and giving wisdom to those who are close to her*
*being right*
*SPACE, her own privacy*
*being patient with others*
*being kind and friendly, also getting the same emotions in return*
Dislikes:
*being wrong*
*loud noises, although her tornadoes don't mind her*
*mean people, she often sends a cyclone after them*
*dark colors*
*no privacy or secretcy, a room with no corners*
*lightning*
*gloomy surroundings*
*artic areas*
*dumd or non-intelligent people*
*kids, she HATES kids*
*dry areas, likes deserts or polar wastelands*
*earthquakes*
*buses*
*trains*
*mining caves, because of the little amount of light, depth, and the moist, murking caves*
*heavy metal*
*rock*
*operas-oh, she only wishes to suck the singers up into an enormous hurricane*
*endings, wether they are from literature, lives, art, or music*
*evil, but hey-isn't she some-what evil?*
*catastrophy*
*feeling guilty after her actions, as she tries to hide this emotion*
*bottling up her feelings, ending up as monsterous cyclones*
Personality:
Typhoon is usually a sweet, kind, wise s.o.e. that spends her time around the coast, often the pacific. She likes to assist in any way that is needed, as well as being kind to others. She has a tendency to be the first to start a coversation, which turns into an unbreakable friendship. She is wise when it comes to knowledge and words, as she ries to discover new meanings and use them in her everyday life. She sometimes discards words that involve slang or are over-used, and improves her speaking, making herself seem mature. She is a strong girl, creating cyclones with ease. Wether they can fit in her palm, or are as tall as seventy stories, she will show no effort whatsoever. When she becomes stressed or over-comed with emotions, she shuns herself from others, and bottles her feelings up, hoping to not cause any concern. It sometimes works, however, as she will paste on a false smile, looking like a toothy-grinned fool. But, on the other hand, it doesn't, as she is softly asked about her condition. She will usually deny that anything is wrong with her, but, she will accept the truth, and explain her worries to those that are close to her. She has a small immature side to her, which she can show when she is happy. She would laugh, giggle, and even do things she would NEVER do! She would be loud, wild, humorous, bold, crazy, and well, insane! She is usually depicted as a well-kept, shy, and neat soe, not bothering to do things that would ruin her reputaion. But, then again, when she is immature, she will. She is usually hard to win when it comes to a date, which you would have to put extreme effort into the relationship, but also keep your word, until she will decide. She has many friends, but chooses only a few as her best friends, sharing minor secrets with them. She never would share anything worth dear to her, as she would balance out the pro's and con's of her words, before she would say them.
Story:
"Welcome to San Diego, California," announced the soft, sweet voice of the flight attendant. Her voice then went out in a crackle, as she released the button for the microphone. I rolled my eyes, as I closed my book, and unbuckled my seatbelt. I had exchanged a quick, releiving glance at the passenger beside me, who was a man in his thirties. He looked tan, wearing a hawiian button-up shirt, flip-flops, and sunglasses over his partially bald head. He was a round guy, taller than me by half a foot. He smiled half-heartedly back, out of a cherry red face. Ignoring this, I shoved my book into my tote, and scooted out of the aisle, before reaching up to the top compartment, where my backpack is. I grabbed my blue backpack in one swift, yet brisk motion, as I walked down the middle aisle to the front of the plane.
The flight attendants and captains waved goodbye with a plastered-on smile, talking with a cooing tone, as we shuffled out of the plane. My back had been aching from the long, over-night flight, stiff from looking down and reading the whole time. I shifted my gaze down, seeing a small space below, and spotted the runway's concrete floor, roughly twenty feet down. Shuttering, I looked back up,and made my way up the slowly inclining slope leading to the airport's gate. They could use a remodel, I thought critically, as I scanned the sunny, cool terminal, the white, glossy floor reflecting the light entering the windows. I sighed, and walked briskly past waiting passengers; men, women, babies, children, teenagers, and seniors.
The big, crowded walkway of the terminal was surrounded by small stores and food carts, displaying their items and food for expesnive prices. The aroma of coffee and other smells made me nearly gagged, but I kept walking, and stepped onto an excelator, watching the floor I was just on, slowly rise above my head, and out of site. Repositioning my tote on my shoulder, as well as pulling my backpack closer to my leg, I impatiently waited for the excelator to come down to the first story. It did after a couple of minutes, and I walked off, scanning the numerous people around for my chaffier.
The terminal bussled with impatience, people walking here and there. Some were standing in place, either eating, or talking on their cell phones. Bah..pathetic.. I mumbled in her mind, regarding the humans like primative creatures. I then weaved in and out of clusters of chatting people, before finding a man with a sign labeled, "TYPHOON". I smiled, knowing he was my driver. He had peircing green eyes, black hair, and tan skin. He was roughly six feet, and judging from my book, he was young. He smiled as he saw me get near, as he put the sign down. "Hello, Miss Typhoon," he said, straitening his tie. He walked to get my bags, but paused. "May I..?" he asked.
"Sure, go ahead," I answered, giving him a false smile. He smiled back, and grabbed my bags, walking me to the car. I followed close behind, making sure to not bump into any travelers on the way to the car. People scooted, shuffled, walked, or even ran out of my way, as my eyes serveyed the area. click click. Turning my head, it turns out he had unlocked the car, and was stuffing the bags delicately in the back. He closed it with a gentle slam, and with that, escorted me to the passenger seat. He opened the door, which I then had my part by climbing in, and closing the door. He rounded the front of the car, got in, and ignited the engine. It made a muffled roar as it started, and smoothly rolled over the concrete, the scenery going by faster and faster. By this point it was getting hard to focus on something in the distance for so long, becuase it would vanish as fast as it had appeared. I sighed, and faced the window, looking out of it.
"So, Miss Typhoon," the chaffier began nervously, trying to pull on a calm demeanor. Apparently, he was failing, because his cheeks were scarlet. He gripped the wheel tightly, as his knucles were bone white. "Where had you come from?"
I gulped silently, and cleared my throat. I had to think fast, trying to analze my past adventures. Portugal...no...Spain? Never! Hm...New Jersey? Maybe... I thought with speed. "Livingston, New Jersey," I answered, turning to face the young man. He nodded slightly, keeping his eyes on the freeway. He blew out of his mouth, trying to brush away a strand of hair. I looked at him once more, and quickly turned to the window. I shook my head disaprovingly, Typhoon! my mind scolded itself. I shrugged, still looking out the window.
"I..I have an uncle that lives in Livingston," he mumbled, as we got off the freeway, and passed several stores, including an outlet mall. I nodded at this, and sighed, trying to refresh my brain. Memories fluttered by, most of them of Livingston, and how I stayed at a house beside the lake, and every summer, sat outside, watching the fireflies come out. I smiled gently, before turning my attention back to the chaffier.
"That's...Nice...It's good to know someone who lived in the same area," I answered pathetically. We were now close to the house, pulling up against the gray curb. The car lurched to a stop, and turn off, as the chaffier stopped the car, and got out. I closed my eyes for a moment. The warm, summer air went into my nostrils, warming me up with a happy, relaxed feeling. I sighed, and opened my eyes once again. "Um..Max," I began, remembering is name. He looked up, and smiled, as he ran to the front of the house. "..Just leave them there. And here," I pulled out a tip, and watched him drive off.
I put my bags inside on the couch, and walked back out, checking my watch. Perfect. It was ten till twelve in the afternoon, time to go to the beach. I began a slow pace, as a walk, then picked it up, jogging vigorously. I looked around as the scene moved by, and spotted three people. I shook my head, and they looked at me, the three men whistled. I narrowed my eyes in disgust, and, with a flick of my finger, sent one sprawling to the ground. The only thing left of the ordeal was a small tornado, which faded as fast as it had come. He made an audible whumpth as he hit the pavement, and I kept jogging, as if nothing happened. the men gaped at my action, and ran to their fallen friend, displaying a sense of fear. I ignored them, and as I was half-way across the street, and black corvette pulled up beside me. Frowning, I pulled to a stop, hearing the engine making muffled growls, as it lurched to a silent stop.
"....Excuse me, Miss, what are you doing?" an iron-branded voice demanded, as the tinted window rolled down, displaying his stern, serious, angular face to me. He had a military buz-cut, fair skin, and tinted sunglasses on, as if he was blind. I had a look of hatred displayed on my face, seeing that he chuckled after looking at me. "Ah...Typhoon...As you are properly called...you are an unpredictable yet funny person..." he said with a devilish grin, like he was mocking me.
I gritted my teeth for a minute, before answering sternly, "If would just leave me be...I would be happy.." with a slight growl at the end, emphasising that I wanted to be alone. In my mind, I could imagine my tail whisking impatiently, as my ears were plastered to my head in frusteration. I gripped onto this thought, but soon threw it away, because it would be of no use for the humans to know who I truly am, now would it? I held my ground in this angry state of mine, feeling my cheeks grow hotter within seconds, and my hands sore from clentching them into tight fists for so long.
He chuckled, and then snapped his fingers. Before I knew it, two men popped from the nerby bushes, grasped my arms, and held them behind my back violently, as if I would kill them whenever I would have the chance. Sh*t....How will I get out of this? I moaned, debating this one-on-one arguement with myself as they shoved my into the car. The man, chuckled, and clapped. "Bravo! Bravo! I am stunned, Typhoon, that you didn't even argue...now, that is suspicious, now, is it not? I am Veniza, mind you," he said, rubbing his hands together in a pleased motion.
I grumbled in response, and with a long motion of my fist, a hurricane came crashing down beside the car. Sure, now that you might realize this, California has no tornadoes nor hurricanes! Then again, you're wrong: at least, when I am in California you are. This hurricane was roughly fifty feet tall, thirty feet wide, as it's torrenting wind wrapped around the car violently, with an ancient sense of vengence. I jumped out of the car, feeling the air lift me up.
Before I knew it, I was at the top of the massive cyclone, grinning down at my pathetic 'captor'. Or, as I would say, "failed jailer". He looked up ruthelessly, and raised his fist, before my cyclone sucked him up. It spun him for a moment, before releasing him, sending him three hundred feet away. Veniza was sprawled against a building, or, rather, he was sprawled inside the building. The pressure of the air forced him to crash through the building violenetly, as he was found in the middle. I grinned, and made my little cyclone go through the streets, and towards the beach, where I made it dissolve, until it was a pathetic dirt devil. As I saw Veniza's feared face fade into the distance, all I could say with a grin was: "Austa la vista, baby!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here is some art of Typhoon that I have made (please do not steal):
