Tamara

[ladytremaine]

| ~ • ~ | Character Basics | ~ • ~ |

.:Name: Tamara
.:Nick Name:. N/A
.:Affiliation:. Evil
.:Status:. Civillian

| ~ • ~ | Appearance | ~ • ~ |

.:Physical Appearance: An unusual amount of focus goes to her shoes. High heels, especially pristine high-heels stored carefully in a display cabinet. Tamara is a person very concerned with appearances; one who is willing to go through a lot of pain to look the way she does. More often than not, she's seen wearing gloves out and about the town. Black leather gloves when she's outdoors; surgical gloves so she doesn't get her hands dirty when she has to kill someone; very akin to Darth Vader in a frock. Her scorn towards all of Storybrookes residents gradually changes Tamara from the calm and collected operative, to vivid, poisonous greens. She wears almost the same thing everyday. Her suits were designed by Giorgio Armani, and she wears several variations on the same one -- a smooth green skirt and jacket, with a soft blouse that ties around the neck. For a woman working in such a regimented environment, this is ideal for her. Tamara is highly efficient, and seems like the type of person who would just buy five copies of the same outfit once she'd found something that struck the correct balance between formal and feminine.
.:Height: 5'8
.:Portrayed by: Sonequa Martin Green  

| ~ • ~ | Personality | ~ • ~ |

.:Personality:. There is no way one works up the ranks of the home office without having the seed of greed. Beneath her rather kind smile is the trap of deceit, deception, manipulation and the limitless craving for a world without magic. Yet, she's not the personification of evil. Her role as a top agent of the home office gave her the unique opportunity to witness how these fairy-tale characters do not use their power ideally; they're a danger and a menace that need to be exterminated. Tamara has a sense of sophistication, she basks in sarcasm and is highly intellectual. She can be selfish, manipulative and intimidating; but at the same time she is greedy. Greedy for power, honor, for love. She's a perfectionist in a world of minimalist covert operations, sterile hotels, and magic.
.:Strengths: Manipulative, Double Agent, Martyr
.:Weaknesses:. Malevolent, Indoctrinated, Bigoted

| ~ • ~ | History | ~ • ~ |

.:Birthplace: New York, New York
.:Family:. N/A
.:Occupation:. N/A
.:History:.

Graduation. Liberation. Success. New York University wasn't the cream of the crop, and even then it hadn't been easy, but Tamara had made it. She had earned her journalism major. Unlike a lot of her colleagues from high school, Tamara thrived in college. being able to have a length of independence she'd lacked in high school, she was able to throw herself fully at her studies. Her happiness was no longer designated by her status, and she was able to drop most of the dead weight-type friends she'd endured for years. Now, with free license to focus on her work, she worked like a fiend. Reading and rereading all of her work, having her roommate check it, even sending it to grandmother- anything she could to ensure top notch grade. Unlike high school, though, she refused to tell her professors of her dyslexia. Tamara didn't want an excuse to let mistakes slide. she wanted to be judged just like everyone else. And instead of tiring her out, it only motivated her more. She'd be the goddamn best, even if she mistook her e's for threes and her handwriting was filled with crossed out sections and indecipherable handwriting.


Soon after graduating she began investigating seemingly "magical" instances. Surely magic isn't real, right? Tamara was skeptical, but figured it was worth a look. She traveled all over New York State, investigating people who claim they saw something or heard from a friend of a friend. Slowly but surely piecing it all together. No evidence solid however, so she almost gave up on this crackpot of a story until she was contacted by a man named Greg. He told her about this organization he works for called "The Home Office". Which investigates and terminates magical creatures. Surely he was crazy, right? But deep down, Tamara had an inkling he was telling the truth after he confided in her about his father. And with a little convincing from The Home Office, she was sold on it. She had finally discovered her true calling. This new job gave her the unique opportunity to travel the world, searching for magic. She met a lot of frauds from the states to Africa, claiming they were voodoo witch doctors or belong to the coven from geyser of Malays. Until her travels and investigation brought her to Hong Kong.


"The Dragon" some called him, she heard from the locals he was a healer, and he could cure people. Almost like magic. She meets with this "dragon" under the false pretense that she has terminal cancer- to see if this mystical healer really is who he says he is. After receiving this "magical cure", she meets a man named August for a drink in a bar not far from The Dragons shop. She tells him all about her illness and how the dragon is going to help her where medical science cannot. Then when she turns away for just a moment to answer her phone, he steals it. Tamara then chases him through the busy and chaotic streets of Hong Kong, finally catching up to the man as he trips, allowing Tamara to catch the bottle of magical substances. Remarking to Pinocchio he deserves whatever illness that has been brought upon him. Tamara then confronts the dragon, asking him how he could create a potion that contains no elements known to mankind. He admits he treats people who suffer from magical afflictions not of this world. Now that Tamara has found him and with that confession, she can't risk anyone else knowing about him. She takes out the tazer she received from the home office and kills The Dragon. Fleeing the scene, presumably traveling to her next assignment.


Luckily for Tamara her next assignment would be in her home town of New York City. The double agent spies on Neal and the man she met back at The Dragons shop via her compact mirror. When August leaves, she purposefully bumps into Neal and spills coffee all over herself. Tamara feigns dismay, as Neal offers her his scarf. At this point he was in the palm of her hand, the two exchange numbers and later begin dating. The couple later become engaged, all while Tamara is in cahoots with her partner in crime, Greg. She calls him after he crashed into Storybrooke, after surgery he told her all about Mr. Gold conjuring a fireball out of mid air. Later he sends Tamara a video of The Evil Queen using her magic to levitate an object. This was undeniable proof that her and Greg had found a gold mine of magical creatures. After the call, she lets Neal borrow her car- then by coincidence meets him on the street with his ex girlfriend, Emma Swan. Tamara soon learns the circumstances that surround Emma, primarily being they have a child together. Neal then invites Tamara to go with them to Storybrooke. This was it, this was the big break that The Home Office has spent generations waiting....plotting for. Tamara leapt at the opportunity. 


Now with Tamara and Greg inside the belly of the beast, but more importantly, The Home Office inside Storybrooke. Not even magic could save these abominations.

| ~ • ~ | Sample Post | ~ • ~ |

It was a dark, quiet night. Not even the moon was there to lightly illuminate the world, a thin layer of clouds in the sky muting the light of the stars as well. In this part of the neighborhood - a small suburb on the outskirts of town - not even the chaos of the Storybrooke night life could pierce the quietness. There was just the soft melody of crickets, and the purr of a black Mercedes as it crept through the streets. Even with the tiny disturbance, no one stirred from inside their houses. No one except the house on the end of the street; the only one with lights on. It was here that the Mercedes parked, the door cracking open and a slender, dark leg accented with a deep red high heel appeared from the car. Following it was a woman just as slender, her dyed blonde hair pulled back into a messy up-do. The casualness of it contrasted with her outfit; a dark suit with the only pop of color being her red heels and equally red blouse just barely visible from under her jacket. Her heels clicked softly against the concrete driveway as she strode up to the house, the door opening before she even had the opportunity to stop in front of it.

"Eva? Eva Tremaine?! What are you doing in Storybrooke?!" the question came from the man who answered the door, a genuine look of surprise crossing his attractive features. She had to take a moment to admire him, eyes traveling over him slowly.

A sigh escaped her lips, pushing her bottom lip out into a pout. "It's nice to see you too, Charles. Have you been in this world so long that already you've forgotten your manners? Tisk tisk" she walked inside the home, giving the man a pat on the chest as she passed. She was almost tempted to let her hand linger; she could feel the muscles from underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. She let her gaze wander over his house, taking in her surroundings with curiosity. "I'm rather fond of you, Charles. Ive missed our tea time. Remember? Every Sunday, oh the laughs we shared. But that won't be happening again for a while yet, not while we're trapped in an uncivilized place such as this. In fact i was hoping you could assist me."

The man, Charles, shut the door behind her quietly, following her as she wandered further into his home. "Of course, madame," he replied, walking to the refrigerator as they move into his kitchen. "Would you like a cup of Coffee?"

The offering makes her upper lip curl in disgust. "I'll pass. Who do i have to sleep with in this podunk town to get a Stolli Martini with a twist of Lemon?"

An amused smile comes across his face, and he walks over to the counter island, resting his arms on it as he leans toward her. "Not that i mind seeing your exquisite features again, madame, but how did you know where i live? How did you even get here?"

"Oh you know me Charles, quite well in fact. I've always had friends in high places." She explains as she sits down on one of the bar stools opposite of him, her gaze still flicking around the room. Her tone casual for someone accustomed to palaces, her gaze halting in its analysis of his home and settling on his face.

"Not always, Eva. I've known you a long time, longer than i think anyone has."

Lady Tremaine sighs, tapping her nails impatiently across the counter-top. " Hem-hem. Yes, about that. You see, i can't have anyone from my past recognizing me. Let alone knowing where I came from once they start excavating. It would put a rather unfortunate knot in my and my associates plans. You're the last person who will bring me back to where I was. Sniveling little worm. Just think of it as tying up loose ends. I'm sorry it had to end this way my possum, I truly am."

Charles just stares at her for a few moments, mouth slack as the severity of the situation began to register with him. There was a blur of movement, and a second later she retrieves a revolver from the inside of her jacket, Charles only managing to get out the beginnings of a scream before the bullet tears through his back and pierces his heart, causing him to collapse to the floor.

Lady Tremaine takes a step back from the mess, tossing the gun on the ground. "I never liked how he made the tea anyways. Too much sugar."

[Storybrooke]