Padma Chandrasekhar (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} showgoeson) wrote,@ 2011-03-25 19:27:00 |
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Nebular Application
out of character. Name: Jack Contact information: jack.ichijouji@gmail.com (email), Jack Ichijouji (AIM), jackissuperfly (CDJ)Age: 25 Time zone: Eastern US. Experience: First person, third person. in character. Name: Padma Chandrasekhar Nicknames: Paddy-C (by her brother, who typically follows by saying, "Ow, my eye!"), Little One (her mother) Age and birthday: August 14, 2185 Birthplace: London, England Sexuality: Homosexual Faction: Cowboy Occupation: Full time cowboy Link to your hold: http://nebular.insanejournal.com/2241.h Played-by: Navi Rawat. Journal: showgoesonFamily: PETER CHANDRASEKHAR. Father. Padma hasn't spoken to him since she left home after he attempted to arrange a marriage for her. He tells people that she left to pursue a career in writing because he likes the way it sounds, but has privately disowned her. KUMAR CHANDRASEKHAR. Younger brother. Spoiled for being the only son and for being the baby. Visits his sister in New Washington at least once a year. MARY CHANDRASEKHAR. Mother. The most patient person in the world, had a way of tearing down walls and loving the people underneath that most everyone hides away. Deceased. GEORGE and SANDY CHANDRASEKHAR. Paternal grandparents. Vaguely embarrassed by their son, but proud of their granddaughter. Helped her to get to America. History: Padma Chandrasekhar was the oldest child of Peter and Mary Chandrasekhar of London. Peter had a fairly typical childhood and resented his parents for it, and seized on his ancestry as a way to differentiate himself from those around him. His mother was probably to blame for that: she was white, but was also Hindu, and taught her son a lot about the religion's history and his ancestral homeland. When frustrated with his life, he clung to this image of a perfect Indian life that he had in his mind's eye, and decided that, if he could just get that image to be real, then everything else would fall into place. It was, perhaps, because of this that he ended up with Mary. She was also of Indian descent and had been raised in London, but her serene nature and kind face made her the ideal mother for his children, or at least for the children in his imagination. And they fell in love easily--for his faults, Peter was a hard worker, and that extended to Mary. He would have done anything to make her happy. They eventually married and, five months later (which was not part of his ideal, but what can you do) Padma was born. Two years later, her brother followed. Until she was old enough to question things and argue, Padma and Peter got along well. When she grew older, she acquired an inquisitiveness and stubbornness that he considered unattractive on a daughter, and so relied on her mother to create a neutral space where they could interact without him becoming uncomfortable with her. Eventually she learned to fit the image of the perfect daughter that he wanted, at least on the surface. She went to school every day and volunteered for classroom duties. She worked hard in the ballet class she hadn't wanted to take, practiced yoga until her joints had the consistency of fresh pasta, and ignored the bumps and bruises she got in the gymnastics classes she'd been signed up for against her will. She played the hand she was dealt. But then when she got a free moment away from her duties, she made up her own rules, and she wasn't playing cards anymore. From a young age, she was interested in the world that her father told her was populated by degenerates and idiots, and wanted to at least sample it so that she could hate it properly. And so, starting around when she was eight, she dutifully walked her brother to the bus stop when classes let out and left him there while claiming some extracurricular duty: eraser cleaning, perhaps, or sweeping the hoverball court. Then she would sneak away to a pub located not too far from her school and take in the atmosphere. At three thirty in the afternoon, it was mostly populated by older teenagers and sad barflies, so she wasn't usually chased out. They found her to be entertaining and adopted her as a sort of mascot, answering all the questions she had about most anything that came to mind. They taught her how to play pool and darts, at first because it was funny to see her try to see over the pool table or hit the dartboard from so far under it, and then when she was older, because it was funny to see newcomers get hustled by the little girl for five quid or a plate of fish and chips. She would learn something that would no doubt infuriate her father if he was aware of it for a few hours, then she would go home and be taken to piano lessons or ballet or gymnastics or something else she didn't want to have fill up her time. This was her life for a long time, made tolerable by her mother, who knew a lot more than she let on and didn't care. She had a way of accepting everyone as they were, no matter how they tried to present themselves. It was possible she wasn't human, but some kind of extraterrestrial spirit of compassion made flesh; who else could have room in her heart for both her stoic, traditionalist husband and her rebellious, stubborn children? Between the ages of five and fifteen, Padma was constantly shuttled between school and her various responsibilities, and though her mother tried to teach her patience and helped her to try to understand her father's reasons for pushing her the way he did, she also knew when Padma just needed a day off and took her for ice cream. Tragically, her mother would fall ill when Padma was fourteen, and would only make it another year. It was a genetic condition called "Smithfield's Syndrome." After Earth left its place of birth, it started popping up: the human mind, having evolved on a planet with a steady and predictable rotation around an axis with only one significant source of light in the daytime sky, was designed for dealing with day and night as separate entities. The nebula didn't have a steady stream of light to turn towards or away from, but a number of light sources that shone to greater or lesser extents depending on what was going on in the stellar cloud. Most people coped with having daylight become just another kind of weather, but a few had their minds begin to deteriorate under the strain. Eventually they couldn't sleep at all, no matter what drugs were pumped into them, and their bodies broke down from the stress. Padma and her brother had been treated in utero with gene resequencing, but their mother was taking a less effective and lifelong drug treatment. The drug slowly stopped having an effect as her condition worsened, and she died in 2199. Padma's relationship with her father changed after that. While her mother could usually talk her around to doing what she was expected to do by appealing to her sense of responsibility, her father didn't have the same skill. She adored her mother, but didn't want to be like her, allowing other people to tell her what to do just because she found it easier to go with the flow. Her father was used to making demands of her and relaying them through her mother to soften the blow; now he had to negotiate. She enjoyed gymnastics, but hated piano and ballet, so she wanted to abandon the latter. He had a superior at work who also had a daughter learning ballet, so she would have to continue that, but she could give up the piano. These negotiations would occasionally devolve into screaming matches until they found a compromise they were both equally unhappy about. Meanwhile, her pub crawling was no more, as she had to take up some responsibility as the woman of the house. This wasn't a compromise as much as it was a necessity: both her father and her brother had tried to take on cooking duties, but her father didn't know when to stop cooking and her brother thought that kitchen scales were tools of oppression, so it fell to her. As far as her father was concerned, this was almost ideal, given the circumstances. His Perfect Indian Daughter would know how to cook for her husband and would love doing it. His Ideal Indian Daughter probably wouldn't have been gay, though, there was that. And she wouldn't keep threatening to stab her brother in the hand with a fork when he came into the kitchen. But those things aside, she was fitting the role nicely. When Padma's mother had been alive, Peter's perfect fantasy had more or less fallen by the wayside. Mary made the terrors of the world that he fantasized his way out of a lot more tolerable, and for the most part he found it hard to imagine a world that was better than the one he had with her. When she died, however, the fantasy came back full force, complete with the utter certainty that once he had things right, once he had the world fixed just so, it would be perfect forever. Padma and Kumar did their best to ignore it. When Padma was nearing her eighteenth birthday, Peter brought up the idea of an arranged marriage. Perhaps it was just the nature of their relationship lately: he was convinced that he could get her to do anything if he was willing to make enough concessions. Padma, however, wasn't even willing to negotiate. It was, and would always be, a no. Which didn't stop Peter from trying. They regularly ended up in screaming matches because of it, but Padma was a teenager, so they ended up in screaming matches because of a lot of things. Her eighteenth birthday was the end of it, though. After Padma received her birthday gifts, her father had an announcement: she would be married in a month to the son of a work colleague. Padma informed him in no uncertain terms that she wouldn't. Her father briefly tried to deflect her complaint by explaining that he wouldn't mind that she was gay, but that didn't matter: she wouldn't do it, no matter who her father found and who he tried to set her up with. The screaming matches were, by this point, nothing new, but typically they didn't go on as long as this one did. Eventually she stormed up to her bedroom and slammed the door. He followed after, continuing to yell, until she opened the door and pushed past him with a rucksack slung over her back. She announced that she was leaving and going to stay with her grandparents. Her father shouted that it would be the last time she ever stepped foot in his house if she did, and she stared at him for a long time, then turned to her brother, hugged him, and told him that whatever she had left was his if he wanted it. Her grandparents, being of a more liberal bent than her father, were happy to take her in. She was there only briefly, however, as they could tell that what had happened was weighing heavily on her. They suggested that she go abroad, that they would help her out. Padma, normally too proud to take that kind of offer, was at a point where she felt like she needed it, so she accepted and chose New Washington City in the US as her destination. Pride caught up with her once she got there, and she tried not to spend her grandparents money if she could avoid it. Eventually she found a job at a bar, making just enough money to keep from living on the street, though not by a large margin. It bored the hell out of her and nurtured a hatred for customer service in less than a year that normally requires a decade of working at a Best Buy. At barely nineteen, she'd acquired a cynicism that rivaled that of a sixty year old. All that changed when she ended up in a fight against four grown men. She was trying to close up shop and they weren't leaving. One thing led to another and she found herself having kicked their asses. A fifth man, much older than the others, had stayed out of it and watched. He left her his card as he left, dragging the remains of the fallen drunkards with him, and Padma followed the card into becoming a cowboy. The man, whose name was Percival Ulysses O'Brien, took her under his wing and showed her the ropes. Padma had never thought of herself as being a fighter, which was just as well, because it turned out that being a cowboy wasn't about fighting. Not really. It was all showmanship. Anyone, Percy told her, could be relied upon to shoot someone else if you put them in the right situation. Wars had been fought based on that very concept. Every war, to a greater or lesser extent. But it takes a certain kind of talent to take a hit, and to throw one, looking as good as Padma had done. A lot of cowboys came in knowing how to fight and having to learn how to put on a show. Padma came in knowing how to put on a show; the rest was the easy part. Despite Percy's assurances, she couldn't imagine how her training could have been called "easy." She was trained in the three main weapons of the cowboys: revolver, laser pistol, and lightsaber. She found that she excelled with the lightsaber, and while her aim was decent, she wasn't quick enough on the trigger that she would swear by a gun. Percy pushed her, though, and the more she pushed back the harder things were. She was pretty certain he liked it that way, though. She was also trained in hand-to-hand, which came easily enough, and showmanship, which she already had down. It was funny: she'd hated ballet all those years, and that was basically what this was. Ballet with guns. Perhaps that's what Swan Lake needed. Eventually she was allowed to take on jobs, and was annoyed to find that she wasn't allowed to have a lightsaber until she'd actually won one. She pointed out that she'd actually won four, at the same time, but it didn't work that way. So she chose the most challenging job her pay scale would allow. The casting call, so to speak, called for a veteran cowboy versus a promising newcomer, and had gone unanswered for almost a month. Newcomers didn't want to risk it, and veterans couldn't see any point. Padma took it and, to her surprise, Percy answered her challenge. The duel would be held at Macy's, as per the client's request. That worked out for Padma, as Percy was a far faster shot than she was. Until she'd met him, she'd thought that shooting from the hip was something that happened on television. Come to that, he was more accurate than she was, too. And had at least one more weapon available to him that she did. It was going to be tough. And it probably said something of Padma that she never for a second thought that she couldn't win, just that it would be a challenge. The day of the fight came and, as predicted, the crowds kept Percy from drawing steel on her. Left in a position where they had to fight hand to hand, Percy still would have come out on top, given that he'd taught her almost everything she knew about fighting. But she could still put on a show, and that's what she strove to do. She dodged and weaved, throwing punches and kicks when she felt confident enough to do so, but mostly doing her best to look impressive. She even once put enough distance between them that Percy felt confident shooting, but then she hopped onto the escalator and surfed down the handrail. Of course, she lost her balance about halfway down and ended up being thrown into a clothing rack, but up until that point it was a rush. Percy was soon there, gun in hand, to declare the fight a victory. Padma, however, wasn't one to give up so easily, and kicked the gun out of his hand. It was, she would reflect later, a lucky kick, but it was still damn impressive. Padma reached for her laser pistol, but she hadn't counted on Percy being ambidextrous as well as a quick shot; he didn't even bother pulling his laser pistol from its holster before shooting her on the stun setting. As consciousness faded, she found herself already thinking of the rematch. Traditionally, in a situation like this, the loser would be carted off by store security, who'd make a few calls and receive a few bribes. Macy's wouldn't actually press charges because having a shootout in one's store typically increased customers, and the loser would return home with damaged pride and, depending on her injuries, damaged parts. The winner, meanwhile, would hightail it out of there and wait to be forgotten while celebrating his victory and cashing his check. Padma woke up in the dormitory at Cowboy HQ, which was a surprise, with a lightsaber on the nightstand, which was another one. She tried to stand, but dizziness and nausea ganged up against her and she had to lie back down. Her groan attracted some attention, though, as there was a knock on the door. "Enter," she said, doing her best not to sound as fatigued as she felt. Percy came in with her hat (knocked off when she rode down the escalator), her gun (dropped when she was knocked unconscious) and an envelope. "Glad to see you're awake. Almost had me thinking you were going to keep your lazy ass in bed all day." She choked back a groan as she sat up. "What's all this, then?" "Some of your stuff you dropped at the fight. And your paycheck." He saw that she was actually looking at the lightsaber and added, "And that's your present for a job well done, you know the tradition." "Tradition calls for a number of things, Percy. I should be sleeping it off in a holding cell. And I shouldn't receive my lightsaber until I win." "The wagon was coming, I figured you're pretty light, I just took you with me." He made it sound like it was something done on a lark, as if he'd considered leaving her as tradition demanded to be just as easy as carting her eight stone body through a crowding shopping center. "Mm," she said, clearly not believing any of it. "And the lightsaber?" she asked, taking it in her hand and wincing slightly as her body objected to the movement. "I've told you, kid. It ain't about winning. It's about the show. I bet there ain't anyone there that ever saw a fight like that. So tradition says you don't get one. I say you do. And that's my lightsaber, so I can give it to whoever I want." "It's yours?" It did look familiar, now that she came to inspect it. She'd certainly had it pointed at her often enough. "It was. Now it's yours." She ignited it and moved it experimentally. The warm golden glow seemed to fit Percy better than it fit her. "The weight's different from the training blades." She held it as Percy had taught her; her fingers fell into grooves worn away by Percy's hands through years of use. "It will take some getting used to." She threw off her blanket, and when her body tried to stop her, she ignored it. Unsteady on her feet but determined nevertheless, she stood up straight and turned to the door. "I shall have to practice with it, shan't I?" "Right now? Kid, you're going to kill yourself." She smirked at him. "The show must go on, Percy." Her training continued, and she gradually became a more able fighter rather than a good showman who occasionally won a fistfight. Proud, fearless, and cocky, as of 2210 she's still in the cowboy game (six years come August) while her mentor is semi-retired. She doesn't consider him completely retired, though: he still owes her a rematch. Personality: Padma wouldn't call herself a thrill-seeker, but other people probably would. It's not wrong so much as imprecise; she's a challenge seeker, and being too proud to admit when she takes on more than she can actually handle, can sometimes seem borderline suicidal. She is aware of this flaw, but continues on regardless; from the beginning of her career she was taught that winning and losing in the cowboy life didn't matter as much as putting on a show, and so feels that, if she must lose, it's better to lose spectacularly. And when she wins, she will win gloriously. Like her mother, Padma is Buddhist, but doesn't consider herself to be a very good one. She lives a violent lifestyle, is far more prone to being prideful than most people around her, and over indulges often enough to no longer feel guilty about it. Sentimentality and attachment come easily to her and she finds it difficult to follow through on rejecting attachment when she makes one of her infrequent attempts to follow the tenets of her faith. She carries Percy's lightsaber, for example, and the only things she took from home aside from the bare necessities were gifts from her mother. It does bring her some comfort, though. When her mother died, Padma didn't have any doubt that she was at peace. When she loses a fight--which, with her "win gloriously or lose spectacularly" mantra, happens frequently enough--she's able to accept it and let it go without getting hung up on it. But off the job she does form grudges and get into arguments and she feels that that doesn't make her a very good Buddhist. When she's not in uniform, so to speak, she's less cocky but still just as proud. She has opinions, and isn't afraid to let people know a) what those opinions are, b) why those opinions are right, and c) why you are wrong and stupid for disagreeing. It isn't helped by her accent. When she's fighting, it seems charming and debonair, as if she's a spy and shooting people is a job perk instead of just a requirement. When she's arguing, it makes her sound like she thinks she's superior and elite. Which she does, so it all works out. Skills: Like many children of middle-class Londoners who hoped to become upper-middle-class Londoners, Padma was expected to take ballet and piano lessons. She was also made to take gymnastics and yoga, ostensibly to get her involved in a sport and expose her to her ancestral culture respectively, but she suspects the real reason was to keep her out of trouble. As such, she's limber, agile, stronger than she looks, and moves like a snake. Her brother was enrolled in kung fu classes as well, and as she and he would often devolve into slap fights growing up, she's acquired some skills via osmosis--not so much actual fighting skills, but solid reflexes and excellent dodging and blocking abilities. Since becoming involved in the cowboy game, her skills have been honed, and she's picked up a few other abilities. She can hold her own in a fist fight, has decent marksmanship abilities, and wields a lightsaber well. Possibly her greatest strength is her resourcefulness; she gets away with having a relatively average fighting technique by taking advantage of her environment, her small size, and her flexibility. Padma is hard to hit, good at making use of things around her, and hits much harder than she looks like she would. Limitations: Padma is clever, skilled, and resourceful, but not quite as much as she thinks she is. She's cocky, which is one of her worst weaknesses. In the moment, when she doesn't have time to think about what's going on, she's at her strongest. When she gets a few seconds to consider her enemies, she always overestimates how much of an advantage she has. Whenever things start to go bad for her, it's right around this time. This leads her to taking on challenges that she has no real business taking on. Once in a blue moon this will actually work out for her; it's actually what got her the job as a cowboy. Padma needs to challenge and needs to be challenged; she would rather lose spectacularly than win hands down. She tends to use close-quarters combat if she can, though she does carry a laser pistol in the event that it's not an option. In a fight, her personality can shift quickly: the elitist, somewhat formal tone turns into a brash, cocky one. She loves the thrill of battle and lets that show through. Bar brawls and showdowns are her specialty: the former because she performs best in those situations, and the latter because they're more of a challenge and rely on skill and technique rather than carefully controlled chaos. Trivia
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Plans: I imagine that there are some long term plans for cowboys in general that Padma will play a significant part in. She might be interested in eventually taking up some kind of leadership role on that front. Beyond that, her mentor figure Percy may or may not eventually be picked up as a full character, but if he doesn't, he might die at some point because the hero's mentor/father figure has a certain role in a story, and that is sometimes to suffer for the sake of the narrative. |
