kayeaton: (cheery.)
Kay Eaton ([personal profile] kayeaton) wrote2011-03-30 11:31 am
Entry tags:

ooc - application

...which it is an application for a game that is not even on dreamwidth shut up. it is only for fun.


Player Info
Player Name: ar
Player LJ: [profile] myxginxblossoms
Player Instant Messenger Type and Handle: aim: here in my bag
Player Email: athousandchurches at gmail
Are you 18 years of age or older? Yes.

Character Info
Character Name: Kay Eaton, alias K.C. Hunter
Character’s Age: 32
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode 6x13, "Far Beyond the Stars"
Like this, basically. Or this. That first shot isn't her most attractive, I'm afraid, but she really is quite pretty.

Kay is about average height and weight, with short red hair, dark eyes, and a penchant for red lipstick. She dresses fashionably but (at work) fairly conservatively, sticking to pencil skirts, different kinds of blouses, and the occasional New Look-style shirtdress. She does like bright colours and occasionally wears absolutely screaming reds, but on the whole, her goal is to blend in with her coworkers. At home, she's far more likely to pull out pedal-pushers or other trousers, and when she's going out, she prefers her evening wear brightly-coloured.

Nota bene: The creators of Deep Space Nine have acknowledged that Kay and Julius Eaton were based heavily off the real-life writing team C.L. Moore and Henry Kuttner. With that in mind, I've borrowed details from Moore's childhood, as well as from Moore and Kuttner's life together, to fill out Kay's life. I have taken the liberty of moving their birth years forward one decade, and I've ignored the part where Kuttner dies at the age of forty-two, though the latter isn't relevant at the time from which I'm taking Kay.

Kathryn Clara Hunter was born in Indianapolis in 1921, the third of four children, all of whom survived to adulthood. Of the four Hunter children--Dorothy, Helen, Kay, and Tom--Kay was the most likely to die prematurely; she was a sickly child, plagued with pneumonia and other illnesses throughout her youth. Her family was fairly middle-class, if tending towards the lower end of the socioeconomic scale, but they got by. Kay felt the hardships of the Great Depression least of all her siblings, for when there was a little extra money, it often went to her. She had the luxury of her own bedroom, where she was quarantined multiple times in her childhood, as well as the ability to ask for things her siblings might not dare.

What Kay wanted most were stories to read, more than Helen and Dorothy could ever bring her from the library when she was too weak to leave her bed. Her tastes ran towards adventures and what her sisters sniffed at as boys' books, and eventually, she managed to convince her parents to buy her copies of Weird Tales magazine. She devoured


Writing Samples
Third Person Sample:
First Person Sample:
Dear Jules--

I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss you right now. I'm sitting in the middle of what's now my living room, surrounded by half-finished drafts, I'm just going to have to start writing the next passages myself, and I didn't realize how much I hate the thought of that until this moment. There's no way to get this letter to you (how far out in the sticks do you have to be before you can't mail a letter to New York?), but maybe if when I get home, you can read it and all these half-baked stories. At least two of them are about people trapped in cities that always seem to loop back on themselves, I'm warning you right now. It might not be very original, considering, but it's stuck on my mind.

It wouldn't be so bad if you and Philippa were here. I can't deny I've had plenty of ideas for stories since I arrived, and some of the technology here is amazing. Not a single damned typewriter to be found, but the computers are as small as typewriters anyway (!), so it hardly matters. I don't have a clue how they work without punched cards, but you can write into them and see your work, and correct it right there without any fuss. I've been printing copies of everything I've written, just in case they get lost in there somehow, but it's amazing what the machines can do. The telephones can do even more than that; you'd think they'd put mechanized brains into them somewhere.

It's the future, has to be. Maybe I'm past our lifetimes here, I don't know. I hope not. It's hard enough to know you're so far away without the thought that you're dead to boot. I've been longing to kiss you each time I climb into bed. (More than kiss, of course, but who knows who might get a hold of these letters? Fill in the details from the letters I've actually sent you and pay special attention to any mention of the way your eyes close when things are getting really good, because that'll be what I'm missing.)

Tell Philippa that Mummy loves her and will be home as soon as she's no longer being imprisoned on this godforsaken rock. Don't stuff her too full of sweets and restaurant food while I'm gone, or yourself, either. Leave me a story or two to finish, and I'll do the same for you.

I love you.