Full Name: Casey Maria Anderson
Nicknames: Nope. Some people mistakenly think that Casey is a nickname, but no, it's not.
Age: 16
Birthdate: 13/11/1997
Home Town: I was born and raised in Sydney, Australia. I moved to California when I was eleven.
Sexuality: Straight as an arrow.
School: Noctrem Well. I was supposed to start attending Noctrem, but I got sick at the start of the year and couldn't go. I finally get better and hear that I have to go to Arcana. That sucks.
Power: Illusion. Essentially, I can make you experience anything I want to. The more senses the illusion involves, the more energy it requires and the fewer people I can hold the illusion over. The longer I hold the illusion, the more energy I require. Holding minor illusions for too long gives me a headache, and trying to hold major illusions for too long makes me pass out.
Likes: I adore sunsets. They're just so beautiful. I love music. Any kind, from rock to classical. I can take or leave pop. I love crime dramas like CSI. I love just lying outside and taking it all in. I adore the beach. I love to sing and dance. I love exploring new places. I love ice cream. I adore sunshine. I love animals, all kinds. I'll never say no to a party invitation.
Dislikes: I hate being treated like I'm a little kid. I hate people who make fun of my accent. I hate people who try and seduce others for their own gain. I hate people who judge me and who make fun of me. I hate missing the Australian beaches. I hate people who judge others for liking certain things or certain people.
Fears: I'm pretty claustrophobic, which is a fear of enclosed spaces. I'm also terrified of fire.
Personality: It depends on the circumstances you meet me in.
Most of the time, I come across as a little bit of a bitch. I'm not the friendliest person. I'm sure psychologists would say that I'm still pining for Australia. But in reality, people have an irritating habit of judging before they get to know me. So if I don't care what they think, I don't get hurt. Simple. They can think what they want, and I'm not worrying about what they do think. I have a pretty nasty temper, and if you irritate me, chances are, I'll yell at you. It doesn't matter who you are.
But if you see me doing something I love... I come across as a different person. I'm passionate. I really care. I want to be the best I very can at it, because it's what I really care about. Maybe you see who I really am.
If I like you, I'm relatively friendly. You might get to know a little more better. You'll see that I've actually got a really good sense of humour. I don't open up to people. Not unless they're really special. They're aren't very many of these people.
History: I was the youngest child in my family. I had one older sister, Angel. She was a year older than me. We were as close as anything growing up. We used to watch Mom study animals and watch them ourselves. Angel was always drawn to the more stereotypical Australian animals, like kangaroos. I just loved watching animals in general. Dad used to bring us to the beach. Here, it became obvious that we were pretty different. I mean, she had blonde hair while mine was dark, but we had more than just physical differences. She used to draw in the sand, while I used to either be swimming or singing to myself with my feet dangling in the water. My mom used to shout a lot if we came home late or if Dad forgot she was cooking dinner and bought us food. It probably wasn't that much, but as a little kid, it used to upset me a little. It wasn't anything compared to when I was nine. They started arguing more and more and more. Then they'd both storm out of the house and leave me and Angel by ourselves. We managed.
They split up when I was ten. They agreed that they'd share custody of us. As in, Mom would take one of us and Dad would take the other. Angel got to stay with Dad. I had to go live with Mom. We moved away from the beach. I still got to visit when I went to visit Angel and Dad, but it wasn't the same. Mom got some big job offer, and she dragged me to the other side of the world when I was eleven. The only saving grace was that California's climate was a little similar to the one back home.
Mom didn't seem to ever pay that much attention to me. Her job was big and important. Sure, she was home to pick me up from school and to cook me dinner, but she was on the phone the whole time. She didn't want to know when I was being bullied. So I started acting out.
It started with hanging around with kids I knew she wouldn't like at school. I changed what I was wearing. When my power kicked in on my fourteenth birthday, I started creating little illusions for her to see if she'd notice me then. I made her think that I'd shaved half my head and dyed the rest of my hair green and she didn't bat an eyelid. I told her about my power. Again, nothing.
I went, lied about my age and got my nose pierced, as well as another ear piercing, when I was fifteen. Nothing. By this point, I think she'd just given up. Not that she had ever tried. And you what made her crack?
A henna tattoo. Not a real one. Henna. She went ape, ranting about how while my piercings would heal up, tattoos would be there forever and all that crap. It was a rose, trailing up my arm. I yelled right back at her and told her that it was henna, before ranting at her about how she never paid any attention to me and about how she didn't care and how she wouldn't notice if I didn't come home. Before I knew it, I was enrolled in Noctrem and due to be shipped away at the start of the term.
Then I got sick. Bad chest infection that led to pneumonia that led to a hospital stay and ages off school. Noctrem had burnt down, but she was still sending me away. So, I turned up to Arcana the day after all the other Noctrem students.
Anything else? I have my nose pierced, as well as the side of my right ear.
