Post by james on Jun 22, 2009 19:24:18 GMT -8
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aurora genivieve washington .
I'VE JUST SEEN A FACEcharacter name: aurora genivieve washington .
nicknames: rora.
age: twenty.
gender: femme.
sexuality: slut.
pb: the meester .
THE LONG WINDING ROADoccupation: ballerina.
residence: condo.
been in vegas for how long and why: when aurora decided to come to the city, it was for one reason and one reason along. to piss the hell out of her mother- instead of attending the classical dance studio she'd promised, she choose to become a glass girl- a burlesque dancer that finds most of her time spent in a glass box, really shaking her stuff for hundreds of vegas' most elite men to see.
FULL OF EXCITING STORIESlikes:
this is the personality section of your application. please delete this when you're finished.
moans
AT LEAST FIFTEEN THINGS YOUR CHARCTER LIKES.
groans
AT LEAST FIFTEEN THINGS YOUR CHARACTER DISLIKES.
BITCHY .
She can be a dove, she can be a fucking nightmare- and three guesses at which one is more prominent. Vienna can’t be mean- she can be so fucking nasty it’ll take your breath away- for good. She won’t ‘render you speechless’ she wont ‘leave a sick feeling in your stomach’. She’ll rip your fucking vocal cords out with a fork and then disembowel you, nothing more than an adorable little smirk on her face the entire time. She has the ability to tear someone apart for even the most minor disagreement- and the thing is, she wont just torture you emotionally, she can hurt you physically as well- not she, but people below her naturally, will punch your fucking lights out so hard your eyes will roll to the back of your head, and you’ll be lucky if you wake up in a few hours, if at all. She is a down right bitch, and she knows it, she envies it, and she holds each tiny little aspect of her life to good name. She won't jump down your throat for wearing the same dress as her, she won't indulge in petty little childhood drama's and the like. She won't dare spread rumors around the school about you because that's just far too juvenile. Anything under a punch in the face is simply uncivil, and she won't allow it. That just comes by nature for her- she’s been exposed to violence through out her entire life, and she isn’t about to get rid of it. She knows how her family got every ounce of their money, and after she graduates she knows exactly how she is going to continue their legacy in more horrifying and publicly powerful ways than ever before- and have a smile plastered across her face the entire time. She wont blink, she wont look back. She’ll just hold your heart up in his hands and give it a kiss, right before licking the blood off her lips. It's not just a threat to her pride either, not just actions that in sue this odd behavior. Even the smallest thing said, even the smallest word that she doesn't like will cause her to turn on the inner ice queen that every young woman has inside her, and he sure to freeze you to the bone, because it's only what a classy woman would do, and if she has anything serious to her name, it is her class. Call her a bitch? Go head, she won't dare deny it, but don't cry when your head is thrown against the locker and your lips are bleeding from the pain. You deserved it, you fucking whore.
VAIN.
When you’re spoiled rotten from birth to boxers, you tend to come off a little- harsh. Vienna takes that impression, multiplies it by ten and then throws a stack of one hundred dollar bills down on it, just because she can. She’s the type that will sit and make little origami creatures out of her Jackson’s, and then use them to start a fire. She won’t even dare look at a person with out them being with in some social range of status that she is as well. She expects the best, and will stop at nothing to get it. She achieves everything she sets her mind to, by using her money, her charm, and her looks which are all tops of the charts in her eyes. She uses everything to her advantage, and does what she has to with out disposal and with out pretenses. She doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process. They’re just another person on her ’boo hoo’ list that she can make fun of when she gets with her tight-knit group of friends. She doesn’t care if you like her, the point is that she likes herself, and shes the one that has to look at her in the mirror every morning. Her looks are the one thing she holds to her name, because she's quite aware that she has the slamming body, and the pretty face that every boy dreams of. Nothing makes her smile more, than to see the nation's best and brightest pine over her, see her in their dreams, and wish for her every moment of every day. She's cocky, conceited, and if someone ever threatens her face, she'd not hesitate to ruin their life. The prettiest people do, do the ugliest things after all. It's only common sense, rule number one in the book of what's right and what's wrong. She wrote it.
SELFISH.
“It’s fucking mine.” Those are the three words, throughout the entirely of the universe that can describe Vienna Washington to a tee. Out of all the words in the English language, out of all the verbs and pronouns and adjectives carefully alliterated from the greatest writers of all time, no other phrase can be more perfectly conjugated than the one previously written. Vienna is, quite possibly, the most selfish person on the planet. Her family has more money than they know what to do with, and because of this she never had to work. She never had to raise a finger or wipe her own ass on her own if she didn’t want to, and because of this, she’s learned to hold onto everything she has with great esteem. She always has to be the first one to have something, whether it be a new car of a new outfit, and she always has to be the only one that has it. If you and she have the same jacket, she won’t hesitate to destroy yours, rip it burn it, or tear it just for the hell of it. And if you argue, well, she’ll put you in your place sooner than you could even start to think. She has a temper that most won’t even dare to mess with, and those that eve attempt it are always left speechless. Everything she see’s she wants, and she see’s everything, through her own eyes or the eyes of others. Don’t try and double cross her; Satan recarnate is also known as Vienna Washington, and baby girl take’s no prisoners, and show’s no mercy.
SARCASTIC.
It is often said, that comedians are made, and not born. Well, in Vienna Washington’s case, that theory is completely debatable, and if studied long enough, most people would agree that it could be easily disproved. In her case, funny is as funny does, and Vienna is funny, that much will never need to be debated. It’s hard to understand just where her comedy came from- it could have been her father who spends more than enough time shoving things off for what they really are for both of them. It seemed like Victor Washington always had something witty to say about anyone and everything- it’s a theory that Vienna only picked up on that from years of exposure. Another theory is the constant moves the family made as a child, she looking for a way to keep the walls up, and a quick way to make friends. It wasn’t hard for her, being the considerably out going person that she was. She always stuck out in her friends, they being primarily male, and more casual like she was in her daily features. Vienna is the type of girl who takes things one day at a time, and never gets overwhelmed. He sarcasm and her comedy has been mistaken for bitterness more than a few times in her life- and thought she’s never done anything to disprove that idea, she’s never done anything to approve it either. She is a mystery woman, who has to use humor. It’s something she needs to get through the day, seeing as she is the only woman in an incredibly large group of men. Her short stature and tiny waist line is hardly threatening, so she has to use other things to make sure she is noticed amongst the people she is in command of. True to form, everything she does is done for a reason. Despite her extremely bitter and bovine personality she has a way of making light of any situation, making herself feel better at the expenditure of other’s. It’s what she does best, really, belittles everyone around her, apart from her father, never minding if they’re family or something in-between, as long as she’s on top, in any situation, than she’s in her comfort zone and what’s right feels right to her, and that’s what matters. Her comfort is first and formost, and her sarcasm, her wit- her ability to play words like they were nothing more than people eating out of her hands, is something she’s amazing at, and that won’t ever change. Her sarcasm is the one trait that could be seen as positive, and she needs to hold onto it. It could very well be the one thing that humanizes her.
WILD.
When someone is pressured day in and day out to do one thing or the other, it’s not uncommon for that pressure to eventually bottle up and break. The same is held true for Vienna. Ever since she was a little child, she’d learned to handle pressure at a remarkable rate, and because of that she can handle the most stressful things with such an elegance and grace, you’d only assume that she was a CEO’s personal gift from god or something of the like. Of coarse, she has her moments. They are few and far between but when she does choose to do so, she lashes out in the most destructive ways possible. She becomes angry, a drunken mess, and sometimes- more often than not, incredibly self destructive. When liqour gets into her system, weather it be wine coolers or Jaeger, she turns into a different person completely. Her tiny frame let’s things run through her at a remarkable rare, and she becomes more promiscuous than anyone could ever imagine. As suspected, this has gotten her into several bouts of trouble throughout her years, including a rather boastful sex tape and several nude pictures released onto the internet. Thankfully, word of this never got back to her parents, and the shame of it can be seen written and sprawled against her face from time to time, in those rare moments when reflection seems so prominent in her eyes. Dancing, partying, and the like are other things that seem to take control of her life, and smoking has become something of a daily ritual, compared to other things in her life, such as prayer. A cigarette and than then a meeting with her father at Church. A daily pattern that runs hand in hand with schooling and studying. Her lifestyle is outwardly, on a downward spiral, where as her inward personality is as beautiful and prized as ever.
SNOOTY.
If ever there was a perfect example of the girl who has everything, if ever you were on the street and wanted to be pointed in the direction of the girl that had been handed everything to her on a silver platter since birth, the person wouldn’t hesitate to point you in the direction of the estate of Vienna Washington. The girl has money- she has the money, not her parents. Inheritance is a beautiful thing when you’re the favourite grand daughter of your very rich great grandfather, so she had her own money from the start. There is no doubt in her mind, that by the time she’s twenty five, she’ll have more money than her father, her mother, and their individual families combined. It’s her natural instinct, after all, and money is what her world revolved around. She doesn’t need a relationship when she has the comfort of Benjamin’s near her bedroom door. Quite possibly the most materialistic girl on the planet, she only hangs out with ‘her people.’ Who are ‘her people’ you may ask? Well, true to form, Vienna only hangs out with people who are just as self -centered, superficial, and inwardly ugly as she. The only difference between her and the rest of the group, is that she is by far the nastiest of them all. She, unlike the others, embraces her differences to points almost incomprehensible and because of this, is almost shunned by her friends, all in the process of being idoled. The world can be a busy place, and it’s hard to know who your real friends are, the only problem is, how can you tell who they are through the array when you vow to never have true friends yourself? She won’t dare speak to a person who doesn’t have something she wants. Whether it be their money, their reputation, or that cute new jacket they got at Dolche last week, she won’t mutter a word to you unless you’re worth her time. Time is money after all, but that may be the one thing that Vienna has in common with everyone else. Money is one thing she has plenty of. Time, on the other hand, the clock is ticking, and you can’t buy time. She’s tried. Twice.
TWO-FACED.
A façade: a superficial appearance or perception of something. If anyone can live by a façade more than a normal person, Vienna sure can. Everything about her is as fallowed: fake, as, hell. Does she give a damn, hell fucking no. Sure, she enjoys her life in the same way that a person who hasn’t been to the dentist in ten years loves their first check up since then, but she would never let that on for even the slightest amount of time. It’s just not her style to seem vulnerable to anyone or anything, no matter who they are, no matter what. She can be nice to your face, actually, she can be a down right peach, but her underlying quality is how much she hates everyone around her. Despises, loathes, abhore’s, all of these things could more than amply describe how she feels about her peers, and whether that’s good or bad is never even up for discussion. She’s a bitter little girl with a heart so cold and dark, it’s hardly appropriate. She’s got her hands in her pocket, and her head in the clouds and she won’t ever come down, not if she can help it. It’s just one of those things she holds to her name. She’ll compliment you on your sweater, but ten minutes later she’ll be with the next person, talking about how ugly it was in the most bitter fashion possible, knowing full well that she was only dissing what they were wearing three hours ago. Maybe it’s a way to get her to feel better about herself. Sure, that would always be the proper assumption for the psychologeist’s to make, but they’d only be hallucinating, because Vienna is hardly your average little girl. Text book wise, there’s no reason to explain why she is the way she, other than just to be mean and nasty. It’s what she does best, and it’s what she loves, and because of this she embraces it to a tea. She lies and manipulates herself to fit in with each person, and has told more than a few lies in her life, as in her entire life is one big lie. A gift, perhaps, but it’s mostly just a flaw in the plan, just one more thing to keep her as bitter and wretched as she’s always wanted to be. Thank god for the nice people in the world, thank Satan for granting Vienna Washington to break them into a thousand pieces and then make a hand bag out of them later.
REGAL.
She’s as poised as they come, in her own right, that’s one thing that no one can even try to deny. As much as you’d love to hate Vienna, she’s in short, an amazing little girl, in the right that you can’t deny how in control she is of every situation. Upon walking into a room, you don’t even have to question who the boss is. When it comes to wearing the pants in a family, her father has no weight in that matter. Neither does her mother or her older brother. Vienna is the one that’s in control of everything from finance to what she wants to do with herself and when, and because of this, people tend to get scared. And rightfully so! No one can even begin to comprehend how crazy, and down right icy she get’s when she’s upset, not that she would even want people to understand her. She likes that quality, the fact that there’s no reason as to why she is the way she is; she just is her, love her or hate her she’s not changing, though she’d always prefer the hate over the love. She doesn’t need someone to define her when it comes to love and romance, simply because she defines herself so well on her own. When she’s in an argument, being vile and raising her voice is not how she win’s things. She’s bitter and cold and completely monotonous, sarcastic, and her lack of emotion drives herself crazy constantly, and she loves every moment of it. Insanity, could be the only way to interpret how eloquent she is in everything she does, with the rationality of a royal, and she is as much in her own right. She doesn’t need her name on a plaque some where in England to tell her that she’s royalty. She’s the united state’s princess, only with out any of the endearing qualities one would normally find when it comes to people so high in social hierarchy. She’s miss american dream, another day another drama, and as much as she hate’s being involved in it, she also loves having to sit back and enjoy the ride, watching everything fall apart and slip away in front of her eyes. Other people’s pain is her pleasure, and she laughs at it. A lot.
SOCIALITE.
Vienna Amairie is a fine young socialite, with all the love needed to pull it off at a moments notice. She loves the fancy parties, she loves the lush atmospheres and the drama. She loves the fancy dresses and the coat ties, the cummerbunds and greased down hair. She loved the delicious looking boys in their suspenders and sex behind the water fountains in the large garden, across the veranda. She loved the limelight, the celebrity, the special places she got to attend, the strings that were pulled and her friends who were just as equally glamorous as she. She loved every single aspect of the lime life and every single aspect of living the lime life. She couldn’t imagine anything sub par to what her life was now, and she didn’t even want to. She was perfectly happy with her lavished life filled with nothing more than the glory that her parents had supplied for her, and she used it to each one of her efforts. Nothing was better than cocaine lines in the bathroom before the big party, and ecstasy trips before they went out to the club, getting in- underage of coarse, because they were just that good.
MAGNETIC.
There are many things to hate about Vienna. It could be her personality, it could be her undeniable talent for acting, it could be how amazing her hair is, or now she always bites on her nails no matter what the time, place, or date is. It could be how she puffs her cheeks out when she’s annoyed, or rolls her eyes in regular conversation, or the way she outwardly tells someone how much she hates them. It could be any of those things, or a variation of all three, but the one thing htat is most easy to hate about Vienna Washington, is the simple fact being, that almost everyone loves her. People kiss her ass, and she can’t help but smile because she has influence in the world around her and she knows it. Most of her friends can hardly take a piss unless she gives them permission, and she truly wouldn’t prefer to have it any other way. People are drawn to her like some form of weird, animal magnetism and she has no idea why. It would be easy to try and figure out, had she cared that much or even bothered to take the time to comprehend, but the point was as fallowed; there was just something about her, that upon her walking into a room, people just had to stop and stare because the atmosphere immediately changed. There was a lighter feeling, light and airy and amazing, like cotton candy at the zoo or the first time you ever went on a roller coaster. It was heavy and absent at the same time, the air just flowing towards you like a million miles and hour and knocking you off guard whenever the opportunity arose. It was like something from a scene from a movie, the slow descent form the stairs and the once busy room suddenly going quiet because she walked in and you just had to look, maybe even give a whistle or a slow clap. It was completely unpreventable, and because of this, equally enjoyable in it’s most tragic form. She loves attention, and craves it at every opportunity, but she also loves her privacy, and having people not only want to hang out with her, but also need to hang out with her was something that grew more than tiresome from time to time, and she hated it when she didn’t get in her full ten hours of beauty sleep.
CONFUSED.
She loves herself, but at the same time she hates herself. She loves her life and she detests it, she’s black and she’s white, she’s got and she’s cold, she’s gay and she’s straight, she’s salty and then she’s sweet, there is not one thing in her life that she can every say she was certain with. One moment she’s completely in love with something, and the next she’s wishing death on it in the most evil way possible. She goes around and around in circles, always wondering which way is up, and which is down, hoping that she won’t fall because she’s completely aware that she’ll be the only one around at he end of the day to pick herself up. She wants to change, somewhere deep down inside of her chest, and it’s eroding at the skin. She can feel it when she wakes up in the morning, tearing and ripping at her chest begging for some kind of life or air, she want’s to grow as a person and move through what she’s known for being, but whether or not she’ll actually do it is completely in her hands. She won’t ever grow, she’s only fooling herself. Deep inside of her heart she knows that. There’s only one way out of the place she’s in, and that’s death- thought she’s quite certain that she wouldn’t be nearly as pleased with what lies beyond the veil, as mother Theresa would be. This concept terrifies her. The idea that she’s done as a person, that there’s no more room for growth, is something that’s borderline disgusting in her mind, so she ignores it with all possibility. She reverts back to whats second hand nature to her. Being as mean and crude and nasty as she can to everyone around her, and they accept it. Why? Because most are convinced that she’s just a miserable person underneath it all. Are they correct? Completely. What lies underneath the veil is not nearly as pretty as what’s over it.
CLASSY.
The woman is as classy as they come- it something you can see when you look at her. She has a certain beauty to her that can stop a room as soon as she enters, and she knows it. Rarely is she seen in street clothes. When she’s not in her uniform, it’s nothing but simple dresses and high-wasted skirts for her. She always dresses her best, weather she is heading to the grocery store to pick up a few things, or heading to a Christmas Party. It is common to see her wearing evening gowns for no reason at all, other than the fact being that she is a girl, and she loves to dress up. She feels that her inner beauty must be reflected through her outer persona. There is a certain poise and grace to the way she carries herself- there is never a single trace of anger in her face, and she is always composed, always knowing the right thing to do in any situation. If there was an ounce of stress, if there was a single bit of weight on her shoulders, you would never know about it. She’s the type to take things in stride and trusts that they will become what God has meant them to be. Vienna is a woman who has experienced the worst in life, and now only wants to focus on the best. Everything she does must reflect the riches she so desperately loves. She’s had nothing and now she wants everything, she’s nightmares and now she want’s her dreams to come true. She’s through with Disney movies, and isn’t waiting for her prince charming. She defines herself, she doesn’t need anyone else to define her. She is the perfect example of what a woman in power can do- and if you irritate her, you will sure as hell see her wrath. She can be a whore when she want’s to, but for the most part, she’s simply a tease. Vienna is a different kind of woman, a new sort of invention for the twenty first century. She is the type of girl that does not need anyone to define her, she can define herself. She doesn’t need a man by her side, and she is not desperate for love like so many of the girls in this day and age are. She is strong, she is independent, and she is hell-bent on living her life the way she wants it, not changing for anyone else around her. She takes the commonly used phrase ‘playing hard to get’ and twists it into her own meaning. She is fully aware of the prize she is, and she is going to make a man work for her; she is something that is won after years of training, not after a few days of flirting. She is one of the most influential women in Hollywood, and when it comes to the men she works with, she knows how to make them squirm, and has them all wrapped around her finger. When she says jump, they must jump, and when she orders them to run, they have no choice but to comply or face being court marshaled. She’s perfectly aware of her good looks- although she is not full of herself. She doesn’t see her body for the elegance it has; she sees herself as a girl with a certain gawkiness that intrigues people, and makes them want to get closer, rather than push them away. She will never let a man take charge of her in a way she is uncomfortable with, and if you want to get inside of her head, you’re going to have to be prepared to fight. She isn’t your average Barbie doll- she’s your fucking G.I. Joe.
WHEN I GET HOMEfamily:
juano washington - father, in prison .
elena washington - mother, housewife.
brother, 23; saylor trace,
brother, 21; greer maison,
brother, 17; caspar hudson,
history: “Vienna Amarie Washington” Her mother whispered, as she held her daughter for the first time that day, tiny warm body fitting into her arms as if the baby girl was made for her, just as Greer had two years before, just as she assumed Alfred had been years before when they had only first met. And through teary eyes, she handed the tiny baby back to the nurse, to return her to the incubator. God only knew the next time she would hold that three-pound body in her arms once more. The birth of Vienna Washington was not an easy one, nor was the pregnancy for that matter. It was ridden with complications from day one, constant anomalies found in the baby’s development, one thing after the next, after the next going wrong and spoiling the happiness that two terribly in love people should have felt. Alfred and Genevieve were high school sweethearts, though not in the most conventional sense possible. Private schools and elite boarding academies made up the two’s lives, coming from a long line of money that was so old, it traced back to General George Washington himself. That was on Alfred’s side, of coarse, Genevieve’s mother, a countess and born in England herself, came from her own line of ancient wealth that was so beneficial, the two were a member of a club founded by Thomas Jefferson and other American heroes themselves. The cost to belong each year? Five million dollars. No one protested when they got married at an early age. It was easy to see who was in love with who, when the two care around.
Vienna was born incredibly premature- seven months along, thirty two weeks- always a small child, she was born with several disabilities that left her parents heartbroken from the seems. Although Genevieve would never dare utter the words aloud, she believed it was her pregnancy with her son, Greer, or maybe even Saylor years before were the ones that did her baby girl in for the worst- Greer had been a big baby, a big boy- and still was, he took after his father in that aspect. Long, lean, and muscular- tall, just like Alfred. Vienna, however, was smaller, just like her mother, and had more of her features- dark, Spanish skin, eyes- lighter hair, though Alfred had never really been considered a blonde in her eyes. None of that seemed to matter, though. Appearances were hardly comparable to personality- whether her daughter would ever have one, was in the question. Her mental health was something that was going to be questioned, her esophagus not fully developed upon her birthing- retardation was something in the playing cards, though down syndrome had been out ruled. Feeding tubes and incubators were something that became more familiar to the baby girl for weeks, and eventually turned into months. There appeared to be no home for Vienna Washington- the only home she was bound to know was the stoic area between heaven and hell, and the impendation of which one will become her world.
She was two years old when she had her final surgery as a baby, closing a hole in her left ventricle, and improving her health significantly- though a few things still remained set in stone. Vienna Washington would live a semi-productive life, sure- but she would never be able to live as a normal child. She would not be able to run, she would not be able to jump, play, swim, attend gym class- she would never be able to play on the playground at recess, or join the track team. Everything that a normal child would be able to do, she would be denied of due to medical deformity, due to something she had no control over, and Genevieve Washington, fell into depression. Post-partum and considerably untimely, what with her daughter’s arrival home. She had the best medical care, the most amazing things money could buy. No one else in the hospital could understand the wealth that the Washington’s held to their name, how they could go as far to donate millions of dollars to the hospital to make sure their only daughter had the best care. They were more than shocked when another baby came along, completely unexpected, a boy by the name of Caspar Hudson.
As a young child, she was very distant from her mother though that was out of need rather than want. Her mother had fallen into a state of deep depression, to the point where she wouldn’t even acknowledge Vienna. She would not take care of her, she would not feed her, look at her, sing to her- for all intensive purposes, there was no baby around, and so she revered to her father and brother. She was always daddy’s little girl, the perfect example of having someone wrapped around your finger, being able to do anything she asked, at even the whim of a notion. She was taught to walk, talk, sit, sing, everything she wanted to do was done and accomplished through the eyes of her father and her older brothers- while her mother laid in bed all day, her dad would take her to the park, take her out and let her breathe some fresh air, despite what doctors told him. Vienna was the type of girl who wasn’t aloud to go out too much, for fear of any unknown allergies of the like affecting her delicate heart. Even the smallest little onsite of illness could sent her into cardiac arrest but her father did not want to hear it. He couldn’t accept the fact that his daughter couldn’t do the things he so desperately wanted her to be able to do, and because he did not accept this fact, it was not so. He never acknowledged that life was short for her, and because of this, she never knew, and did things just as any other child would. With a bright smile on her face and love in her heart.
She lived in a world that was not made for her fragile body. She was too small to be with the other kids, she was too sickly, she was too risky- she was this, and she was that- but for all intensive purposes, those were only the thoughts that encompassed the heads of doctors and medical students alike. She was something short of medical miracle, and no one could quite figure out the reasons behind the things that she did. She was a normal child, anyone that looked could see as much. Sure, she was a little small for her age, but little girls were often small in their young age. She had a certain spirit about her that could not be matched by anyone, man, or woman, or beast. There was such a brilliant fire she had to her, that made her run and jump and play with all the normal kids. When she attended her first day of school, she came home so happy, because on the playground she had learned to double Dutch jump rope- at first her father was furious. The little girl wasn’t even supposed to take a step outside unless it was into the school in the morning, and out of the school in the afternoon. She attended a pristine school in central new york, and Alfred was the most important people available- he would have only assumed that the teachers would have had either enough brains or respect for their superiors to fallow simple directions- it took him several moments, and the help of his son to allow him to realize that his daughter was playing. She was playing, and she was being normal amongst the other children. There was no ambulance, there was no hospital, there was no surgeries or medication. There was only a beautiful little girl with sort Spanish features mixed within the slough of children, a ridiculous smile written across her face as feet moved at incredible speeds. The only thing her teachers could say about her was “She’s a natural athlete-”
It started off small for her, it had to. Her father wanted to encourage her to do what she could, but all with in her limits. There was nothing that she couldn’t do- he had kept that mentality with the little girl, that anything she set her mind to would be accomplished, even if he didn’t believe it himself. She was only eight years old, she didn’t understand the doctors trips, and although her mother had steadily recovered from her bout of depression, they never had that bond that was so classic to what a mother and a daughter were to feel for each other. They loved each other, yes- parents always loved their children, but there was something missing from the equation. Vienna starting playing soccer when she was eight years old- and excelled to the point where it was unbelievable. She couldn’t get enough of the sports, of the working out. She couldn’t get enough of the thrill, of the natural high she got from the endorphins in her body. When she got bored with soccer, she went to baseball, sticking with the other sports still- in the upperclass neighborhood where she was raised, the genders were very biased, the boys played sports and the girls were in scouts- and because of this, she naturally grew closer to men than women. When she joined the little league football team when she was twelve, three days a week as a kicker, and succeeded at being the best and most abled one on the team, that was when she began to be called Charlie, and when she truly took on the epitome of being called a Tom boy. She loved every moment of it.
She was thirteen when things went down hill, at a baseball game.
She always had a talent for the sport, it was something that just came natural for her. A gift, even. She had something that was a once in a lifetime gift. She never expected it to come crashing down at the worst of moments, the championship game. Pitcher was one of the most difficult positions to play, not because it was physically challenging, but because it was nerve wracking. So much so, that over the years, Vienna had become- well, he couldn’t explain the feeling she got when she was out on the field. Like everything was going against her. The crowds cheers were mistaken for boo’s, and there had been more than a few times when she was on the verge of an anxiety attack. She never expected the cold chills she got that night, though. The sick feeling in her stomach. The thoughts that nothing good would come of tonight’s game.
Sure, she had everything going for her. They were playing as an undefeated team. Her parents were in the stands, her brothers were on the sidelines. She was surrounded by her best friends all around her, as far as everyone was concerned, even if they lost the game tonight, they would still be winners. It was in the third inning when she felt it. A numbing pain that’s started in her chest and caused her to collapse to her feet, wincing in pain. It was almost surreal, because she knew what was happening to her. She could feel it, somehow in the back of her mind, plaguing her every move. She knew that she was having a heart attack, but she couldn’t force herself to believe it. She was young and healthy, and hadn’t had a problem with things of this matter for a long time. Things went black for her then.
Thirteen was the year she spent in the childrens hospital once more , fighting for her life every walking moment of the day. She had weakened her body, but she had strengthened her mind in ways she never even assumed possible, she was strong mentally, more so than she had ever comprehended physically, and she refused to die. Better yet, her parents refused to let her go. She was so sick towards the end, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she could feel- everything and anything that she did try to do was left in the wry and in the encompassing haze of her thoughts, she was left in a sea of haze and formaldehyde, and she was going to die. When she closed her eyes for one last sleep, she didn’t wake up. Not for one week, not for two- and then one day, her eyes flickered open, the light reflecting through the window in the most beautiful way possible, making her heart soar and her life had been broken. She wasn’t the same girl, because everything she once loved had been taken away from her, and she changed drastically. She was no longer interested in sports or anything remotely alike. She took more of an interest in clothes and high fashion, superficial things and abandoned her once tomboyish nature. She ditched her own friends, sold out in the way that sometimes girls did, and found something for herself to commit to in ways that other people couldn’t. She became rude and bovine and infatuated with her families money, because it was something of a constant. As long as that money was there, happiness was near by, so close she could taste it, and everything was almost alright.
She had regained her health to almost seamlessly flawless ideas, comprehensions of what bodily perfection truly was. She did it the smart was this time, however. Through the direction of a physical therapist and trainer. Her heart was strong, and she was healthier than she had been in years, in centuries, in decades, and she had a belief that nothing would stand in her way. She’d always been very don’t ask don’t tell when it came to her families money. She had ideas where it came from, but the concept that her family was so ridiculously wealthy, that they would never have to work again for the rest of her life, or anyone else through out the entirety of their family for that matter, not just the immediate. She didn’t even know what to do with herself when her father went to jail. Ironically enough, it wasn’t for the money that she craved to with such a hunger. Drunk driving- normally not a bad idea but it was, when you hit a police man killing him. She’d always hated the police, for that reason alone- and she’d held a new bitterness towards her father, because he didn’t need to drive. He had people to do that for them. They were the Washington’s for Christ sake, they never needed to drive a car again. Her father, the one solitary person she loved more than anything was the one person who’d left her, and she did another 180 for the worst. Her life was spinning out of control at the age of sixteen, and she was so disgusted with herself inwardly that she began to change herself through acting outwardly. She had a natural talent, or perhaps she was just good at lying to herself. There’s never really a way to tell when it comes to these things. Her heart may have been broken, if it hand't already turned to ice.
pets: annabelle, my puppy !
FROM US TO YOUooc name: james.
age: nineteeeennn.
years roleplaying: fifteen million .
other characters: nada .
how did you hear about us: my best friend ever NADIAA.
roleplay sample:
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YOU'RE A CANARY, I'M A COAL MINE, CAUSE SORROW'S JUST ALL THE RAGE .
AND I'M SO SORRY, BUT NOT REALLY. TELL THE BOYS WHERE TO FIND MY BODY.
,
[/font][/size][/color]He was going quite tired of this reutein.[/font][/quote][/blockquote][/size][/blockquote]
In fact, he was growing tired of most things. Then again, it was only natural for a boy who never slept to become exhausted at even the most simple things. When he opened his eyes on this lightened day, the sun streaming through his window with the most earthral overcast he could comprehend, he didn’t feel anything special. In fact, he didn’t really feel anything at all. The xanex or four he’d snorted the night before still weighted heavy in his system, plaguing him with sleep and making him want to close his eyes all that much more, but he didn’t. Instead, he just laid there for a moment, taking in the surrounds, looking not out a window, but still eyes remained fixated on one thing.
On the wall in his bedroom, where a window should have been, was the most perfect picture ever known to man, edges ripped and torn from whatever magazine he’d ripped it out of god knew how long ago. He didn’t want a window. Life looked so much more beautiful when it wasn’t real. He blinked. Blinked once and then blinked twice, before realizing the not so perfect part of this entire situation. The light. The light.
“Shit.” Was all that was whispered from his lips before he thrust himself out of bed, hurrying to pull on a pair of pants, and walking out his door to find a picture he had not expected. There, was his daughter, sitting on the floor and coloring. He didn’t have time for smiles, only a sentence being alliterated. “I’m sorry, baby-” not bothering to say anything else, just like he didn’t bother to hear anything of his daughter’s qualms on how she had tried to wake him up, He didn’t have time for any of that. He had promised it wouldn’t happen again. He’d promised her teacher that he wouldn’t forget again, but he had.
On this morning, there was no fallow the leader played on the walk to school. In fact, there was very little time for anything, he walking out the door almost absent of a shirt, before walking back in to gab the first thing in sight, and picking his four year old up into his arms. Her tiny little legs wouldn’t make the run he’d have to towards her pre-school. He cast out her talks on the upcoming trip to the zoo, simply because he’d heard it all before, countless times. In fact, it seemed like Baily’s vocabulary was nothing but repition. Of coarse, that was what everyone’s life was like these days. He didn’t stop to look at anything when he walked in the school. He didn’t offer hello’s, and he didn’t even catch his breathe. He immediately located his daughter’s classroom and burst inside.
“Ms. Chapman, I am so fucking sorry. I know I said that it wouldn’t happen again, but I just got sidetracked and-” His eyes focused on the back of the head of the pretty blonde boy he’d thought he’d once known, and would recognize anywhere. He didn’t bother to ask questions- because there were none to ask. The first thing that came out of his mouth would have to do.
“Well, you’re definitely not wearing Wednesday’s yellow paisley.” He stated, the young teacher’s wardrobe predictable to the day. He’d have to make a note not to use the word fucking next time he was entering a classroom of toddler’s.
