Caroline Louise Makota

"Life's just great, why wouldn't it be?"

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a character in “Delirium”, as played by RolePlayGateway


❝Caroline Louise Makota❞
❝Cutting out a piece of someone, because that's so healthy.❞

❝ Mᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. ❞


Makota sibling 5



Physical Description
Caroline is a well developed fifteen year old at least physically, her hips and bust are both curvy giving her an hourglass figure. Luckily she is quite tall for her age which prevents her curves making her look plump or overweight. She stands at 5"7 and has a heavier build due to her curves but she is by no means overweight but merely a healthy size for her age.
She has long black hair that reaches her waist though you're lucky if you catch her with her hair down as she nearly always wears it in either a ponytail or long plait down her back even when she sleeps. She dislikes her long hair immensely and hates having anyone touch it but keeps it long because her her parents both loved it. She has dark blue eyes that in some lights can almost look purple or black but always her eyes are closed revealing nothing of her thoughts.
She tends to wear jeans tucked into thigh high boots and long jumper dresses or long t shirts in the summer, she never goes anywhere without the old battered leather jacket that her father gave her before he died. It was too big for her then and still is now but she is growing into it.

❝ Bᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsɢᴜɪsᴇ. ❞

Caroline is a girl of many layers and even her own family do not see the true Caroline at least not all of her. On the surface Caroline is a sarcastic, witty person who rarely says anything that isn't a sarcastic retort or a witty comment. Because of this she comes across as a bright bubbly person with lots of energy which in some part is true, no one is one mood all of the time and there are times when Caroline is genuinely happy and enjoying the day. But the main difference is that even when Caroline is unhappy she does not show it not even to her family preferring everyone to always think she's fine. She also acts self confident and as though she is fearless with nothing phasing her, she doesn't show nerves or worry and is more likely to distract someone from theirs rather than show it herself.
She has gotten so good at this that most of the time her family have come to almost take her good humour for granted and in some ways Caroline feels that she can't express her true feelings because she has succeeded too well in her pretend role.

Underneath the bravado, Caroline is like any typical fifteen year old girl in that her moods change on a regular basis and in particular she seems to be having more down moods than up moods at the moment. Having no one to really talk to about this she simply bottles it up inside and tries her best to ignore the mood swings and continue on with her life. She does not realise that the mood swings and the growing resentment inside her is a reaction to her unhappiness with her life, not her family as she loves them but but her frustration with the world and also her fear of having the cure. She hates that they are labelled as "invalids" and wishes that she didn't have to worry all the time about the safety of her family because the "abnormals" as she calls them. Regardless of her confident, sarcastic facade or the mixed up girl underneath she loves her family deeply and is fiercely loyal to them.

Thoughts About the Cure
Caroline hates and fears the cure, yet deep down a secret part of her yearns to have it done if only so she could live life without worry.

Due to being curvy and quite tall Caroline is not brilliant at being stealthy and is probably the worst of her siblings at it, but she is very good at gathering and has gotten really good at identifying what is ok to eat and what could kill you. She can also run for long distances and therefore has very good stamina, so can run for a long time before getting tired. She is a natural born writer and has been writing novels since she was a young child. Obviously given their lifestyle she has never had any published but she dreams of one day becoming a famous author.

Likes[/left Dislikes
[left] Animals
Hot weather
Writing Spiders
Jogging Singing
Early Mornings Her breasts
Thunder Stuck up people

❝ Rᴇᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ. ❞

Her parents deaths did not hit her as hard as her older siblings as she was still quite young when it happened but that does not mean she doesn't miss them. She has odd memories of them little things such as her mother stroking her long hair. She misses them even though she barely remembers what life was like before they died. She is not that close to her eldest siblings due to them taking on the mature responsible roles left open when their parents died. She has grown closest to her brothers particularly Morgan and Johann.

The Deliria
Finnegan Everett

Paul Makota..."I love you brother of course but I feel I don't really know you which is probably my fault."
Morgan Makota..."You are my best friend as well as my brother."
Johann Makota..."You make me laugh and I think that's why I love you so much."

Caroline is never seen without a notebook and pencil

So begins...

Caroline Louise Makota's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair Makota Character Portrait: Theodin Jaynar Everett Character Portrait: Johann Makota Character Portrait: Annette Makota Character Portrait: Caroline Louise Makota

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❝ Morgan Alistair Makota ❞
Image Image Image
❝Paul and Alva were going to kill him. How had Yo-yo and Annie snuck past him?!❞

It probably was to be expected. Morgan always zoned when he was engrossed in a book. Not even Tallen barking got him to move, because he didn't hear it. The wolf was whining and barking like crazy, spinning in circles in front of Morgan and everything, and yet the boy did not move, save to turn the page of his book every so often. His green eye whirled back and forth as the words leaped off the page and seeped into his brain. The crashing thunder didn't even get through to him. Finally, the wolf lost her patience, and bit Morgan on the arm. The boy yelled out, surprised, and gazed at his wolf, rubbing his arm where she'd grabbed hold. "Tallen, what the...what's wrong girl? Did you have to bite me?" The wolf pranced and spun, jumping about the room. It was then that Morgan finally noticed. He was alone. Throwing the book down, Morgan raced up the stairs, checking every single room as he went. No one was home, save for Kitten. "Kitten! Have you seen any of the others lately? Paul, Al, Annie, Yo-yo...?" His only younger sibling shook her head, and Morgan growled. How had Annie and Yo-yo gotten past him? He sighed, and looked down at Tallen. "Tallen, watch over Kitten, okay? I'm going to go find Annie and Yo-yo. Paul and Al will kill me if I let anything happen to them!" He bolted from her room, grabbing his boots on the way out the door, and then had a thought. No, it was too late now, he needed to find Annie and Yo-yo. Stepping into his shoes, and took off running into the Wilds, heading to Portland. From the mess in Yo-yo's room, that was the only place they could be.

Sliding through Portland; 8:50 P.M.

Morgan ducked underneath someone's porch, smacking his head against the floorboard, silently cursing himself for being so tall. He waited until the Regulators passed, and then he slid out. With the rain pounding down around him, he was covered in mud from head to toe. Where were they? If only he'd seen where they had gone...

Morgan stood still, closing his eye and thinking. There had to be somewhere Yo-yo would go...he was always the leader of his little exploits with Annie. Thunder crashed above him. Yo-yo...if you don't take care of Annie, I swear I will pummel you into the ground, older brother or no! Annie hated thunder, she was deathly afraid of it. Cursing under his breath, Morgan ran forward, heading towards the downtown area. He had to be in the shopping district. A Kleptomaniac like Yo-yo was, there was no other explanation.

He was running down the middle of the street, not even caring if Regulators saw him, when a flash of lightning revealed what looked like two people in front of him. He slid to a halt, diving off to his right, landing in what appeared to be a run-down closed store, one that had not been used for some time. It was still stocked with what appeared to be canned goods. He slid down the wall, peering out at the two people in the street. Who were they? With a start, he realized that they were headed into the building. This building. Morgan whirled around, ducking behind a shelf of what looked like canned green beans and Pop Tarts. What an odd combination.
He watched the pair for a minuet, realizing that they were kids, just like him. One male, one female, and the female was sobbing. Which sounded oddly familiar...


Nothing but anger surged through Morgan as he emerged from behind the shelf, grabbed the first thing he could reach, which was a can of creamed corn, and hurled it at the guys' head.

"Why don't you get your hands off my sister!" He yelled, and the boy spun around, looking around for his attacker. With another flash of lightning, both Morgan and the other boy recognized each other at the same time. Morgan grit his teeth. "What the hell are you doing with my sister? Where's Johann?" He yelled at the Portland boy.

The setting changes from portland to The Beaches


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Virginia Hearst Character Portrait: Finnigan Everett Character Portrait: Caroline Louise Makota

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❝ Virginia Hearst ❞

Pretty pale plastic, shiny shallow shell
Don't do nothing drastic, don't make your life a hell
Smile and wave, smile and wave, flawless strategy
But he knows you know I know it's just an empty eulogy

Skylar's brother heaved a sigh, breathless and relieved and colored with something almost like amusement. "Now, that was crazy. You've got good intuition, I didn't even notice how close they were."

Ginny cast him a wry glance. Intuition? More like paranoia. But of course, he wouldn't know, would he? Wouldn't know how everything affected her—the shriveled, unforgiving gaze of the public's eye that seared her dry. Wouldn't know how she would gather wisps of poetry from her heart, swollen with disease; how poisonous words would spill from her hands on her weaker days, pouring out like a horrible, lurid flood. Then again, that was the point. He wasn't supposed to know. No one was.

(Sometimes, Ginny really hated Skylar Everett.)

No matter. The boy probably didn't mean anything by it. It was, to him, a harmless statement. A compliment. A peace offering. So Ginny only nodded and turned her attention back to their surroundings. Her eyes scanned the rocks, searching, searching for—

There. A flash of white. Ghostly plastic. Anomaly of soft wrinkles cradled in the belly of a jagged cave.

The Pop Tarts.

Ginny almost pounced on the darned things, but managed to restrain herself. She shuffled over as primly as she could while clad in thick unwieldy rain boots, then leaned over and scooped it up with one—careful, delicate, controlled—sweep of her arm. The plastic bag was slick with frosty condensation; nonetheless, she clutched at it with the desperate relief of a dying thing. The lumpy tangle of worry in Ginny's stomach loosened, and she allowed herself a slow exhale of relief. Up until then, the world had been frozen in a state of nightmarish chaos. She'd disobeyed her mother, snuck out of her house, broken curfew, held hands with a boy. But it was worth it. If only for these fiendish pastries, it was worth it. The world sighed, thawed out and continued to spin. Life went on.

…And promptly shuddered back to a halt when out of nowhere, Finnegan Everett grabbed her hand and placed. It. On. His. Chest.

On his thrice-damned chest.

It was so very sudden and so very wrong that she almost dropped her Pop Tarts. Thankfully, she had the soundness of mind not to. On the other hand, what the heck was she supposed to do now? Her frantic mind raced, furiously reviewing years of conservative Portland schooling. No one had ever taught her what to do in this situation. What was the appropriate way to deal with…with this? It wasn't like they taught this at school. Unless she somehow missed some crucial portion of the curriculum? "Alright, class, today we're going to discuss what you should do if you're ever ambushed by an insane overly-affectionate stranger at night while sneaking out after curfew to find a bag of misplaced Pop Tarts. We'll go over procedure, emergency protocol, and subsequent therapy. Any questions?"

…Granted, Skylar's brother wasn't a total stranger. He was, well, Skylar's brother. But it didn't change the fact that she barely knew him and he was—oh gawd, he'd placed his other hand on top of hers while she was preoccupied. Hello there, Skylar's brother. Go right ahead, Skylar's brother, I don't mind. Might we hug each other and cuddle up as well? Perhaps we'll dance out into the storm, ride off together into the stormy sunset on the backs of dolphins? Sure thing, Skylar's brother, just remind me to grab my one-way ticket to hell while we're at it.

Staring into the unsettling, earnest eyes of Finnegan Everett, Ginny had no idea what to do. But she had to do something. Each second that crawled by dragged the situation into a deeper pit of awkwardness.

In the end, she did what was most instinctual for her after years of deception: she smiled at Skylar's brother and pretended there was nothing wrong. And if her smile was a bit…artificial, well then—she was stressed, alright?


Ginny's pleasant expression didn't change in the slightest, but she nonetheless felt a jolt of fear. Regulator was her first thought. It didn't matter that the unfamiliar voice was high and scared and feminine—that could be some sort of ploy to lure out curfew-breaking stragglers. No, she and Skylar's brother were going to stay right here. Better safe than sorry.

But then the voice cried out again and Ginny felt a sliver of doubt. What if this person wasn't a Regulator? What if someone actually needed help? What if the actual Regulators heard the fearful cry? The Regulators would be drawn to their location like vultures to carrion. The person would be caught, and the Regulators would sweep the area based on the logic that, where one rat was, there were bound to be more lurking about in the area. She and Skylar's brother would be found. She and Skylar's brother would be ruined. Immediately scheduled for the Cure, and subject to public scandal. And while she was relatively unconcerned about the Cure, her reputation was another matter entirely. Because more than anything else, Ginny hated disappointing people.

With a gentleness belying her inner turmoil, she removed her hand from Finnegan's grasp. Then—slowly, cautiously—she crept outside their rocky shelter. Peering over the hedge of muddy stone, Ginny could just barely make out the figure of a person. In the middle of a storm. With no cover. A sitting duck.

What kind of idiot—

"I'm sorry. I'll be right back."

Ginny dropped her Pop Tarts and tore out of the cave, fear lending wings to her clumsy feet. She reached the person in a whirl of ragged gasps and backwards glances. Upon closer inspection, the huddled figure turned out to be a miserable-looking, rain-soaked girl.

"Get up," Ginny hissed under her breath, eyes sharp and fearful and darting. "Be quiet—come on—they'll find us—"

Gracelessly, she attempted to tug the girl to her feet. Once the girl had gotten up, Ginny began to scamper backwards, calling behind her as she did so. "Over here—there's shelter—hurry, please—"

Fear and adrenaline were doing terrible things to her breathing and control. By the time she made her way back to the outcropping, her unflappable mask was starting to crack. It was with wide eyes and flushed cheeks that she returned, beckoning the strange girl with her into the dank alcove.

It's raining cats and dogs, my friend, and no one knows when it will end

The setting changes from the-beaches to Portland


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Virginia Hearst Character Portrait: Finnigan Everett Character Portrait: Caroline Louise Makota

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❝ Finnegan Slade Everett ❞
♮ I'm quite the joke to you ♮


In the air, in-between his teeth, something felt inexplicably strange. He'd always wished for attention and love and people he could trust, and he first thought that if he snuck away from Portland and reinvented himself in ways they couldn't control, then he'd definitely have that little piece of himself to save for moment's like this – in a teeny tiny cave settled into a well-hidden grove by Shell Beach, momentarily trapped because there was some kind of torrential storm in full-swing just outside the cave's jagged mouth. It was in the rhythmic beating of his heart parapumping against Ginny's fingertips, blaring through his own, as if it could transcend straight through her palm. At least, Finnegan had enough sense to know better than to transfer his hand onto Ginny's chest to see whether or not her heart sounded the same, though the flighty thought passed like a diving sparrow, fluttering it's wings back as if it'd stricken a barrier. He was so sure she'd throttle him until he was little more than a jelly-armed mess and throw him into the sea – maybe, she'd apologize to Skylar later, or say she saw him scuttling across the cliffs after a runaway box of Pop Tarts before valiantly falling to his death. She'd have the proof scattered around her feet, where she'd suddenly dropped her sopping wet box.

Why the hell was she holding Pop Tarts? Where had they come from? Was she some kind of magician or something?

Did he stutter or something—

No. Ginny was just uncomfortable touching his chest. Or something like that. This didn't particularly feel any different, did it? He was always slinging his arm around Skylar's neck, pretty much wringing her neck in bear-hugs, until she squirmed away and told him that he better not do that to anyone outside of their house or they'd tattle on him. With all of his other siblings, it wasn't much different, though he tended not to be too affectionate towards the ones who crinkled their eyes, full of irrefutable arguments countering his ridiculously dangerous actions. He couldn't smile too much, or high five them unless they were in the privacy of their own home. All his life he remembered affection, or rather affectionate actions. It was rarer now, but he still treasured every moment. He was the happy one, after all. The brother full of laughter. Finnegan grinned, Finnegan laughed loudly, with abandon, at the stupidest things, and tended to make others follow suit no matter how grudgingly. That was his role.

She was staring at him. He was staring back. That's as far as his memory will go at the moment, because, to be perfectly honest, he was way too caught up in the warmth of her hand, captured beneath his own. His face pulled into a slight pout, but there's something sincere in his eyes, something he's hiding. This wasn't as awkward for him as it was for her because he was used to this. He was used to cuddling up with his siblings and twining his hands through tufts of hair, or locking elbows, recklessly prancing down the street in full-view before disconnecting like they'd just robbed a bank or escaped a troupe of Regulators. All wild-eyed, messy-haired and happy. It was normal. Wasn't it? Maybe one day she'd look at him and find him dazzling. He was the average boy, the boy next door – he definitely didn't have Ginny's unscrupulous grades, or Theodin's knack for doing everything correctly, nor was he fabulous or famous, but he was someone who could figure out their weak points and still, once upon a time, didn't need to raise his fists to get his point across. Things were different, now.

Finnegan's fingers twitched when he heard someone call out to them, effectively loosening his grip on Ginny's fingertips, then allowing them to fall away completely as they were gently plucked. Regulators – how had they found them? A quick snarl transformed his features, wrinkled his forehead and furrowed his eyebrows. Of course, Finnegan had no intention of letting her bumble out into the storm when there was possibly an enemy-in-wait hunched in the shadows, waiting to gobble her up or drag her away to the Crypts. Hunching his shoulders and stalking silently behind her, Finnegan peered over Ginny's head and squinted into the darkness at the hazy figure wandering outside. His hands curled into tight fists, knuckled white, then loosened when he got a better look. Definitely not a Regulator. There would've been lamplight’s strobing across the entire area, searching for unlikely beach-goers.

He very nearly smashed into Ginny before back-peddling gracelessly, realizing that she was trying to drag the sopping-wet-girl back inside. Now, this was ridiculous. Three kids huddled in a briny-cave, hiding from something or another. When they finally stumbled back inside, breathing hard, possibly wondering why the other was even here on the beach at this ungodly hour. The dishevelled box of Pop Tarts flopped to the side, as if judging their midnight caper, drug down by it's miserable-looking corners. He glanced down at it, then back to the drenched schoolgirl – er, well, she looked as if she was their age, anyway. He snatched up her wrist in one quick snap, gripping it above her head, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Who are you? Are you some kind of Regulator-in-disguise? A snitch? A rat? Speak up, lady–”

Baby I'm in love and maybe it's not to tell
Only thing that I can do is hold it in, hold it in
I was told that I'm a man now and I'm not allowed to cry
The only thing that I can do is hold it in, hold it in

The setting changes from portland to The Beaches


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Virginia Hearst Character Portrait: Finnigan Everett Character Portrait: Caroline Louise Makota

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❝ Virginia Hearst ❞

Snake eyes, in my head
Forked lies, dripping red

Three teenagers, of varying genders, huddled together in a cave. In the rain. After curfew.

Ginny looked from face to grimy face. Girl to boy. Stranger to almost-stranger. She looked at the drab little shelter, at the angry strokes of lightning, at the pitiful scrap of plastic at her feet.

The Pop Tarts were probably dead by now.

Vaguely, she wondered if she should cry. Her grandfather used to say that it made one feel better—called it "having a good cry." From a purely scientific standpoint, Ginny supposed it made sense. Crying released leucine-enkephalin. An endorphin. At least, that's what the school textbook said. Then again, the school textbook had also said that it was a common symptom of deliria—a sign of heart sickness, of emotional breakdown.

Still, Ginny wondered. It'd been a while since she let herself cry.

And then Skylar's brother suddenly flipped into paranoid-mode, and Ginny decided that she just didn't have time at the moment for silly things like crying. Once again, she reached for a neutral expression. Eventually, her breathing steadied, and the flush fell from her cheeks.

“Who are you?" Skylar's brother demanded, grabbing the strange girl by the wrist. "Are you some kind of Regulator-in-disguise? A snitch? A rat? Speak up, lady–”

"Obviously I'm a spy," the strange girl snapped back, apparently irritated with the relentless interrogation. "They're recruiting fifteen year old girls these days, haven't you heard?" She tore her hand away, glowering.

Ginny peered at Skylar's brother with something akin to curiosity—in all the time she'd known him, he'd never struck her as the suspicious type. Then again, he did nearly assault her when she collided into him earlier.

Hmm. Speaking of, she should probably apologize for that.

But anyway; back to the present.

She examined the girl, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she took in her figure. The girl was tall. Dark eyes and hair. Pointed face. Overall normal appearance, and yet…something bothered Ginny. Nagged at the back of her mind like a frantic, insistent flea.

"His concern is valid," Ginny said finally, voice as blank as her expression. "What are you doing here?"

The girl closed her eyes. "Look, I'm just lost. That's all. Thanks for the help—honestly, I really appreciate it—but I need to find my family."

With that, the girl turned to leave. And it was then that Ginny realized what was bothering her.

The girl was unfamiliar. Unfamiliar.

Ginny never forgot a face.

A million things flashed through her mind at once; almost in reflex, her hand snapped out, closing around the rubbery arm of the girl's coat to prevent her from leaving. The girl turned around again, something like surprise flitting across her face, before it melted into exasperation. She opened her mouth to speak—probably in some sort protest—but Ginny beat her to it.

"I don't recognize you. Where are you from?"

Her tone was conversational, masking the acceleration of her heartbeat. For Ginny could think of two immediate scenarios.

Scenario 1—the girl was telling the truth, but the moment she left she'd get caught by regulators, thus leading them to Ginny and Finnegan's position.

Scenario 2—Skylar's brother was right, and the moment the girl left she'd be heading out to rat on them.

Neither situation was acceptable.

The girl had to stay.

Unfortunately for Ginny and Finnegan, it seemed that the girl had other plans. Ginny wasn't exactly the athletic type, you see, and the strange girl had the advantage in height and strength. Before Ginny could fully comprehend what was happening, the unknown girl had muscled her way out of her grip and was dashing across the beach all full speed.

Won't you look, dear, at my credentials?
Well it's just a faceless figurehead
I've forgotten all those small essentials
In chasing scraps of gingerbread