joanna harvelle is a rebellious girl with a burning, hungry passion to help those in need. the fire that she posses and constantly feeds at a frightening rate seemingly can not be simply put out. she is a fighter through and through, and wishes nothing more than to help her fellow hunters rid the world of the creatures that do not belong in this realm. her often reckless attitude lends credence to the beast that dwells deep inside her to do the right thing, and often times at the price of her own well being and those around her. however, the thing that she really desires is to prove to her allies that she is not just some pretty face to be kept hidden on the side, or to help her mother maintain the family bar. she wants to be put on the front lines and flex her skill where it is needed to cover the backs of those that she knows would protect her. though however much she enjoys working at the bar and consciously knowing that she is safe, despite the humble abode and provisions provided for her, she grows anxious to be able to fight. she would often times sit alone in her room wondering when the world would change, or allow her to join the war against the demonic entities that plague her world. she knows that deep down the world will never change unless she does something to help prevent the hostile invasion. on the other occasion where she finds herself amiss or often times complacent and unsure, she will pace the main floor of the bar after closing time. it was ever since her mother, a former hunter herself, introduced her to this world. it was here that she realized that she may not be allowed to breathe in this air without adding her own value to the war. despite her mother's best wishes.

joanna is a over-confident display of inner-strength over beauty. however despite her exuberance and visible nuances of wanting to be a part of something bigger than herself she can often times appear subdued and shy. it was hard to develop her personality, especially around boys and those she could trust, growing up because she never had friends she could open up to. it was not until she met the winchester brothers that she soon came to fully realize just how much she can find herself to trust another human being aside from her mother. it was here that she displayed her true intelligence, charm, and witty sense of sarcastic humor when given the chance to work with dean on a case. she grew close to dean and even dawned on feelings she had for him that resembled those of intimacy, and need. however, their troubled relationship resorted in her becoming closed off and more stubborn than when she first started. she mistrusted the winchester brothers and other people for a while, but her hunger for the hunt grew more tangible. in which she had to keep from her mother. these feelings of uncertainty would surely be dangerous to her mother's wishes to keep her only daughter safe from the horrors that plagued the world.

despite her growing need to be out there and slay what should be kept slain, ironically, her strength she found in hunting had been half-baked conceptions. idealized notions that gave men a reason to hide been masculinity and dangerous weapons. when she realized her feelings for dean winchester, and what it felt like to be on the hunt; the thrill and the addiction of chasing down a demon, or a ghost, she realized that only while being on the hunt was it a chance to get closer to her deceased father. she wanted to be a hunter. what she did not want was to go to school and get a degree with a phd at the end of her name. she found that all to be ridiculous and stupid. nothing would change the current state of affairs in this world if she had a doctorate and an array of knowledge that would not suit her. in fact, she knew that if she accomplished this polar opposite of a visage, then she would be further away from where she wanted to be. as it was that she was always called a freak which added to her inverse personality of mistrusting people. and closing herself off from people that wanted to get close. maybe she believed this insults and they had scarred her for unnecessary reasons altogether. in truth, she was more afraid of herself in making a mistake than he trust and opinions of other people. but she knew that saving a life meant a difference, and she wanted that more than anything.

joanna is strong minded, and willed once she sets her mind to the task at hand. she will see the task through completely to the end. she is also bold to call people out on their behavior if she deems them to be inappropriate. she despises mysogony, chauvinism, and out-right masculinity. she strongly believes that women can also fight and kill the creature of the dark if they set their minds to it; but knows that not everyone was made to be as grand and famous as the winchester brothers. though she wants to try and prove to her fellow hunters as if she has nothing to hide. she will stop at nothing. even if she embraces the very thing she fears; death. she will walk to the gates of hell and pound on their brinny bars until satan himself opens the doors to confront her. her love and passion to do right for those that believe in her is dangerous and frightening. which often lend her emotions to be irrational and and foolish. her desire to be a hunter has ever been fed by her father's legacy. once she learned that her father's death was on john winchester's hands she became cynical towards the brother, and stronger in her desire to prove herself. amidst the chaos of this world her secret love for dean empowers everything else and drives her towards a fate she can not ascertain.

she knows that she can not escape death. the hooded figure she so desperately fears is inevitable. her isolation has become the bane of her existence; as it is both her strength and weakness. in her blind ambition to be able to help those that drown in her own innocence she has realized that she is not as innocent as she thinks. the world breeds creatures that the human mind can not begin to understand. and as long as fear is allowed to breed and spread in this world then people would be given every reason to be afraid. she was once afraid, and she does not want to die alone knowing that she did nothing to prevent this. she plays off her fears as if she were not afraid to die. but this is not the case. as nothing is ever as it appears, for if she had things go her way every time then she could find herself to love dean winchester in a world where creatures and evil thing did not exist. impossible. as much as she loves the boy, she knows that she can not love him with all her heart. it would be the thing that unravels every thing. this pain is the only thing that she knows. it is the twisted, blackened, soul-shattering misconception that causes her to reach for glory. once this world is ride of danger and abhorred things, then, and only then can she truly open herself to the world, and those around her.







joanna was born to bill and ellen harvelle on april 7. as a little girl she did not know of the things that made this world scary. as the couple's only child she did not have any siblings that she could depend on and her parents were ever so scrutinizing. and because she grew up at a bar, called the roadhouse, she became familiar with a group of professional killers. but they were not professional killers in the conventional sense. they were hunters. and they frightened her. as life went on and hunters visited the bar oftentimes conducting shady back-room conversations with her father, it was here that her mother kept her away, and as far away, from their deals as she could possibly be. her parents she soon later learned were hunters. her father more so than her mother, in which her mother had often dabbled in these violent arts. but after joanna was born they vowed to keep her safe. and so her mother became the bar matron to her only child, and joanna witnessed as her matronly skills oftentimes wavered into places that comforted the other, older, hunters. joanna grew up confused and awkward. not understanding the way the world worked as people like john wincherster and robert singer, 30 times her age, were considered family, but not related to her blood. however, the familiarity that bred contempt and doubt, she learned to call these people uncle. uncle bobby. uncle john. they were family.

on her eighth birthday, her father gave her a bow and arrow and was taught to use it. she was taught how to fletch her arrows, knoc her arrows, draw her arrows, shoot her arrows. at first she was uncertain that she would ever do a good job. at one point asking her father what good would a bow and arrow do her. her father had laughed, picked her up in his arms, and kissed her forehead. as far from the truth as that embrace could have been; her father had taught her how to survive. and when her mother gave her a diary, joanna, after having grown up with people that had fascinating tales of intrigue and floating entities, and night walkers with pointy teeth, her little pink diary became a log. a record of every hunter that had passed through the bar and their stories. she grew up learning their styles, their methods, their lives, what they ate, drank, what weapons they carried, and what model and make their vehicle had been. while mistrusting these people with loaded rifles in their car, and hidden sidearms on their person, she grew attached to this life that their parents had worked so hard for years to squirrel her away from.

on may 16 she learned that her father went on one of his long trips. only this time he did not return. she was old enough to realize that something had killed him. the look on her mother's face that had remained etched on her face did nothing for joanna. she knew what had been happening outside the walls of the bar ever since she turned eight years old. though she did not know what it meant. one night as the bar closed she locked herself in her room and stared at the diary laying closed on her desk. she tried to piece together what this meant. the meaning lay in the leather-strewn cover of the diary that she had been given. she picked up the bow and arrow place neatly standing up against the wall and held it in her tiny hand. the answer became clear to her that night. nothing else mattered. she knew she would never get another chance to hear her father's laughter, or have archery lessons. she became bolder, smarter, tougher, more reslient. as one year at school a bully that had been calling her a freak for years was attacked. she was not much a fighter, but for some reason muscle memory dictated to her where to punch the boy. she broke his nose and was expelled. but instead of grieving and being sad she did not sit around and do nothing. she explained to her uncle shawn what had happened. uncle shawn then taught her how to keep her fist closed, and what angle to swing, and where to follow up. he told her every thing and she told him in return that she wanted to be a good person. she wanted to be a hunter. however her mother was still obliged to protect her, and she never truly fullfill this dream.

one year she tried to attend college. but she never applied herself. she knew what she wanted and she grew frustrated and arrogant with not being able to do the right thing. so, lived a normal life as any would-be hunter could. she worked at the bar, did her chores, dated boys that possessed ill-gotten love-less relationships. nothing was ever correct. nothing ever felt right. she was about to know what it felt like to forget the closeness she had with her father. that was not right. but she did what she was supposed to; and trained on the side from prying eyes to be an efficient killing machine. just for when the day came that the world ended.

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[attr="class","sigh"]Name joanna harvelle

[attr="class","sigh"]Species human

[attr="class","sigh"]age 28

[attr="class","sigh"]Birthday april 7, 1985

[attr="class","sigh"]alignment chaotic good

[attr="class","sigh"]height 5 foot 7 inches

[attr="class","sigh"]weight 127 lbs

[attr="class","sigh"]sexuality straight

[attr="class","sigh"]occupation would-be hunter

[attr="class","sigh"]ooc name mel or melikkeri

[attr="class","fall"]SERIES; alona tal - jo harvell