Lieu: Quelque part autour de la ville
Interagir avec: Un nom oublié et une surprise furry

Si Quinn avait su qu'elle avait eu un chien, Quinn n'aurait peut-être pas été aussi disposée à rester. C'était censé être une simple scène de New York. Fille va à Brooklyn Pour avec sa journaliste collègue. La fille va boire car elle ne couvre pas l'événement à des fins de presse. Une fille rencontre une fille mignonne qui peut boire une fille sous la table. La fille laisse un collègue dans les mauvaises herbes pour faire quelque chose, ou quelqu'un, beaucoup plus intéressant. La fille se réveille dans un appartement qui n'est pas le sien et décide que la meilleure chose à faire est simplement de partir avant que quelqu'un soit blessé. Parce que quelqu'un a toujours été blessé dans ces choses, que ce soit celui qui attendait plus d'une nuit debout ou celui qui a dû se dépêcher et partir sans faire de bruit, puis voyage et baise une cheville en sortant. Quinn Diamond était le maître le matin après le départ.
Bien sûr, elle s'était amusée, c'était en grande partie le but de tout ça. Mais l'amusement pour une nuit devient rapidement des conversations gênantes, des promesses vides de garder en contact, et la magie de cette nuit disparue lorsque les deux parties voient ce qui les attend derrière le rideau. Ce n'était pas de la romance. Quinn savait que la fille n'était pas son genre dès qu'elle a commencé à parler de la façon dont son documentaire préféré était King of Kong, parce que la mention de l'éducation de Quinn est venue entre le flirt bourdonné et la discussion sur les emplois. Quinn savait que cette personne ne satisferait rien de plus profond que le physique, et c'était bien. C'était ce que c'était.
Mais comme elle s'est serrée dans la même paire de jeans et sa chemise à l'intérieur achetée à un Goodwill, elle a été arrêtée morte dans ses traces par une paire d'yeux verts vitreux la regardant en arrière dès qu'elle est entrée dans le salon. Ça devait être un chien. Un petit, mais un chien tout de même. "Sois cool, veux-tu?" Quinn a demandé à l'animal qui a simplement incliné sa tête sur le côté. Cela semblait aussi bon signe pour Quinn de se hâter vers la sortie. Mais dès que sa main a atteint la poignée de porte, est sorti un éclat d'écorce. Merde, je pensais qu'il était temps de marcher le matin. "Traître."
Il y eut un remuant de la direction de la chambre et une voix matinale appelant le nom de Quinn. Mais elle tombait sur des oreilles sourdes, aboiantes, car Quinn n'aurait pas pu quitter l'appartement plus vite.
C'était un court jaunissement dans les escaliers jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit sortie dans les rues de New York, sa deuxième maison; cette odeur dans l'air était probablement malsaine mais damnée si elle n'a pas aimé s'arrêter pour tout prendre dedans. Il valait la peine de s'associer aux sortes de wappy de l'Upper East Side si cela signifiait vivre dans le battement du cœur de la côte est. Après avoir pris l'odeur de la vie urbaine, Quinn a tiré une cigarette de sa poche de jeans et l'a allumée, prenant une lourde traînée avant de commencer son chemin. Elle devait revenir, changer, nettoyer, se présenter pour des cours de merde, soumettre ses devoirs qu'elle détestait absolument. Le métro serait son char et les gens colorés ses partenaires.
"Continuez-moi à chercher un cœur d'or, et le téléphone de Quinn a sonné, interrompant sa cigarette. Elle a laissé la sonnerie jouer un moment avant de répondre.
Bien sûr, c'était son collègue qu'elle a abandonné la nuit précédente. Et bien sûr, elle n'était pas vraiment ravie.
"Pas vraiment mon problème, Kris, je ne suis pas journaliste. C'est dur d'écrire à propos de quelques bières? Je pourrais faire ça et je n'ai pas de diplôme en journalisme. Quoi? Rêve-toi? Non, je n'étais pas... très bien. Pas de promesses. Peu importe." Après avoir presque été mâché Quin a cliqué son téléphone avec un soupir juste avant de prendre une autre traînée sur sa cigarette.
Un ajout à la journée. Elle devrait prendre le temps d'assister à une sorte de fête. Une sorte de pénitence pour sa disparition aux échantillons de bière. Qui sait. Cela pourrait en valoir la peine, ou tout simplement rappeler à Quinn que ce devrait être son travail que les gens font. Quoi qu'il en soit, c'était mieux que l'alternative de passer la nuit à lutter pour remettre du stylo sur papier.
Quinn Diamond était sûr d'avoir une journée mouvementée. Comme n'importe quel autre jour à New York.
Drama Division || Writing || Fledgling Playwright/Screenwriter
"Just because all the world's a stage doesn't mean everyone gets the spotlight. We can't all be the protagonist in our lives."
For the Record

║ Name ║
Quincy Anise Dimandario
║ Acceptable Nicknames ║
Quinn
║ Birthday & Age ║
May 13, 24
Chicago Born, New York Adopted
║ Gender & Sexual Orientation ║
Female || Biromantic Homosexual
║ Other Labels ║
Raised Catholic, had the obvious crisis of faith, still considers herself Catholic albeit a rarely attending one. There's a lot of Greek running through her but there's Italian to be found as well. Her politics are her own but she's not about to go to any rallies. Society sees a trainwreck on the horizon. They might be right. 
║ Occupation ║
Copy Editor for an alt entertainment rag
║ Appearance ║
It's no big secret to anyone that Quinn leans in heavily to the whole androgynous angle in nearly every aspect from her hair to her attire and even to her voice which has that coarse edge to it, though that could easily be from the smoking habit. Baggy, boyish clothing make up the norm of her day-to-day outfits though she prefers to think of it as just simply clothing. There's no adherence to fashion trends or the like, she's no model and she doesn't care to follow the always changing trends, for Quinn putting on some graphic tee featuring some shitty band underneath a flannel jacket straight out of a grunge video is just as fashionable as whatever the people in Milan or wherever are cooking up. Quinn never lets her hair grow out, as that would serve only to ruin the image she has spend years building and maintaining, and in her circle and sphere of influence, image is crucial.
Quinn's skin is pale, spending a lot of time indoors tends to have that effect, and any makeup she uses is done not to enhance or draw attention to but to lighten and conceal. Her presence is noticed without having to resort to extravagant makeup displays or eye catching outfits. There's artwork on her body, centered on her arms, tattoos with little meaning beyond looking cool at the time or memories now better left forgotten, permanently attached to her skin as a reminder of mistakes and the idiocy of youth.
And yet, arguably the most noteworthy thing about Quinn's appearance is her height. She's not unusually short nor tall, though she stands at 6'2" and is considered tall compared to most of the other girls she associates with. Her build is rather slender but unmistakably feminine once you strip away the baggy clothing that serves to hide her curves and bust from prying eyes.

"I don't know what got into me. Hot and cold water meeting. I'm telling you, there's no place I've been; Where my mind stops wandering, wandering."At First Glance
║ Personality ║
The Positive:

 Punctual
 Expressive
 Opinionated

The Negative:

 Addict, and not just to cigarettes
 Overworked, Overstressed, Self Inflicted
 Selfish

What You See:
Someone overly confident in their own skin from the way she walks about with that swagger and that look that says more than words ever could. A shark in an ocean of guppies who won't hesitate to strike when opportunity arises and when her voice needs to be heard. Surely enviable to the right sort, desirable from a different, the dictionary definition of one who has no time for other's opinions and has long since run out of anything resembling a fuck to give. 
What I Know:
An emotional wreck crippled by insecurities and a desire to produce something great while only being capable of putting out absolute tripe. Stuck in a spiral that only ever sinks further and further downwards. Unable to hold onto connections, lovers, friends, and a settling realization that her voice will never be heard in the entertainment world. Misery loves company and surrounding herself with people just as miserable as her is how she can boost herself up, make herself look better than she feels she truly is. And the only one who knows this is herself, because her slavish devotion to her own image has taken up so much of her identity that any admission that she's headed for a self destructive path would be akin to social suicide.

"Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon." - Woody AllenOff the Record
║ My Dreams ║
What does every student that attends a fancy art school dream of? Quinn wants to be heard, she wants to write an award winning SOMETHING, be it a Tony Award winning play, an Academy Award winning screenplay, hell even a Pulitzer winning article would do, so long as it meant someone was truly hearing what she had to say. But that's just the surface, the obvious. Quinn wants more than that, she wants to be accepted. She knows full well that her associates only associate with her because of the superficial reasons - and she's guilty of the same, but that's how it goes and she's aware that as soon as her work is out there that all it would take is one negative reaction for everything to all come crumbling down. Would it kill her to find someone she could truly confide in and trust? It might, but she knows she has to. She dreams of having support in her life. Stability.
║ Fears ║

Putting her work out there
Failure
Being forgotten
Waking up alone
Rejection

║ Likes ║

Sunshowers and rainstorms
The smell of a bustling city
Baseball games
Live theater
The first cigarette of the morning
Cats
The colorful people on the late night subway

║ Dislikes ║

 Thunderstorms
 Dogs
 Politics, and not just in the governmental sort of the word
 Reaching the end of the last pack of cigarettes
 Upper East Siders
 People ducking out the morning after, before that awkward breakfast and even more awkward explanation

║ Brief History ║
Quinn, birth name of Quincy because her father was so adamant that his child be named after his grandfather, was born in Chicago by way of the suburbs. People in the suburbs of a city always claim to be from the city to make them sound more refined or cultured than they truly are. Quinn was what people would call a 'tomboy' but Quinn simply saw as 'playing with friends'; her parents and immediate family were stuck in the mindset of their childhoods still. Quinn had a knack for worming her way out of trouble, be it by blaming accidents on one of her boy friends or faking tears to gain the sympathy card, it was at such a young age that Quinn realized people will believe what they want to believe. That people rarely see beyond the surface. It didn't matter if there was a broken vase and she was holding the bat, if she cried and said David Weber from next door made her do it, then David Weber from next door was getting a spanking while Quinn was getting an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert.
High school was an interesting time for Quinn. She had the great pleasure of attending a school known more for its appearances in local papers than its curriculum. Students had a tendency to square up and throw down over the slighest offense that it became a bit of a game between students. Sort of a 'guess the reasoning', and kids would've bet on it if gambling weren't so heavily frowned upon. But it wasn't the fights that made high school difficult for Quinn but rather the fact that even at that young age she was standing out for all the wrong reasons. Kids at that age didn't care to know Quinn, only knowing her as the weird girl with the camera or the weird girl with the grunge look. She thought herself an artist among a country of boors.
Being accepted at a prestigious art school was a shock to damn near her entire graduating class as well as her family, so much so that the local paper ran an article about it (which currently hangs in Quinn's apartment) simply because it was one of the rare times a student from that school did something positive.
After Quinn arrived in New York she spent much of her first year familiarizing herself with the city when she could, taking weekend trips to Central Park and the other sites from all the movies. In her first year she was put into the filmmaking course as that had been what got her foot in the door, but it was in her second year that she decided to suddenly switch her focus to the writing path, something that baffled her teachers as Quinn showed a true knack for capturing people at their most intimate of moments, which was a gift in the world of film and photography. She offered only one explanation as to why she changed focus and that was a simple "I want to say something."
Quinn has spent the rest of her time in New York, which she has adopted as her home, staying there even over summer breaks, searching for that voice of hers. But as she enters her third year, after having had to repeat the first due to her change in path, she's yet to find it. And that has her worried. 

║ Area of Study ║
Playwright/Screenwriting
║ About My Audition ║
There was no portfolio of past work submitted with the application, instead what was submitted was a single file contained entirely on a USB drive. On it was a two hour film, a documentary really, consisting of footage shot by Quinn of the various fights that broke out on a regular basis both at her high school and within her neighborhood. She didn't shy away or edit around the footage, instead focusing on the brutality present in young people, cutting only when the adults arrived on scene to break things up. The footage was intercut with Quinn talking to the participants and only asking them the question of Why.
The Admissions Board saw the film as a rather shocking indictment of the 'inner city school system' in much the same way that Bowling for Columbine was an 'in depth look at gun violence' and not just 'exploitative and manipulative as all fuck', which is exactly what her footage was. It said nothing. It critiqued nothing. It was two hours of kids fighting each other over the pettiest of reasons, and yet some people in a different city, far removed from the realities of the world, applied meaning where there was none. Quinn sent it in as a joke, largely, but was shocked when she was accepted, the staff seeing potential for a great documentarian or filmmaker.
How wrong they were.
║ Year ║
Third
║ Living Arrangement ║
33 Park Point Drive, 3A 
║ Extra information ║
Is still a part of the Film Club but hasn't attended a meeting since her first year. Switching majors does that to a person.