Post by florence on Oct 2, 2012 22:32:06 GMT -5
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* florence j. quinn-beaumont ,
* start with basics ,
[ I'M SWIMMING IN THE SMOKE OF BRIDGES I HAVE BURNED ]
[ I'M SWIMMING IN THE SMOKE OF BRIDGES I HAVE BURNED ]
FULL NAME Florence Joelle Quinn-Beaumont
NICKNAMES Some people call her Flo. She can dig it.
DATE OF BIRTH December 17
AGE Fourteen
GRADE/YEAR Ninth
ELEMENT Wind
SEXUALITY Straight
MARITAL STATUS Single
* into the mirror ,
[ AGAINST MY WILL I STAND BESIDE MY OWN REFLECTION ]
[ AGAINST MY WILL I STAND BESIDE MY OWN REFLECTION ]
CELEBRITY CLAIM Cara Delevinge
EYE COLOUR Blue-green
HAIR COLOUR Blonde
HEIGHT & WEIGHT 5'4" & 112
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES She has both of her ears pierced. There’s also a fading scar on the bottom of her foot from where she accidentally stepped on a knife when she was seven but she doesn't talk about it and no one ever sees it.
CLOTHING STYLE Florence acts like she doesn’t think about what she wears but she actually loves clothes. One of her favorite article of clothing, interesting enough, are jeans but she likes to mix up styles and mix vintage or street style to get a subtle fashionable look. Her all time favorite outfit? Jeans, vintage shirt, and a leather jacket. What can go wrong with that? Lets forget the part that her leather jacket is a kind of security blanket for her. Shh~
* deeper than skin ,
[ TAKE EVERYTHING FROM THE INSIDE & THROW IT ALL AWAY ]
[ TAKE EVERYTHING FROM THE INSIDE & THROW IT ALL AWAY ]
POSITIVE TRAITS
NEGATIVE TRAITS
LIKES
DISLIKES
STRENGTHS
WEAKNESSES
FEARS
BEST MEMORY Reconnecting with her dad.
WORST MEMORY Despite how much she might love her mother, she honestly hates having to go home to her mess and memories of some of the more disgusting things she’s bumped into while she’s walked into make her feel insane.
LONG-TERM GOAL For now, just finishing school, going back to France and maybe doing some kind of computer work, graphic design-wise.
* past reflections ,
[ SOMETIMES I REMEMBER THE DARKNESS OF MY PAST ]
[ SOMETIMES I REMEMBER THE DARKNESS OF MY PAST ]
MOTHER Amelia Beaumont (36), History Teacher
FATHER Robert Quinn (43), Management Consultant
SIBLINGS N/A
OTHER N/A
HISTORY For most of her childhood, Florence remembers just being so aware of everything and everyone around her. Her parents met in Paris while her mother Amelia was completing her last year of university. Her father, Robert, was a foreigner on a business trip and was only meant to stay for a short time. They met. They loved. They parted. Amelia fell pregnant. When she called Robert to let him know, he sounded happy and told her that he would make sure that she was financially taken care of. Amelia felt both relief and heartbroken but she wanted to keep the baby and she did.
Florence grew up in a messy home, cared for by a unsteady mother. Amelia managed to find a job as a teacher at a private school. However, she couldn't seem to keep herself as a reliable presence in her daughter's life between her job and her busy mind. Florence would come home after school, bypass the piles of trash and junk around their home, settling into her own immaculate room after showering away what she perceived to be "germs" latching onto her from the mess. She knew that her home wasn't normal and she felt a constant need to keep herself clean because of it. Her mother wasn’t completely oblivious; she did see that her clutter was making her daughter a little crazy so she did what any mother in her situation would do: she made up a story. She bought Florence a pair of leather gloves and told her that it would protect her. Florence took them and she was delighted, being so young. But even with her new protective force, she always felt more comfortable away from her home, under the care of a more clean family. This wouldn't last forever; she'd find soon that most people had an unclean secret tucked away.
Her father ended up being an interesting figure in her life. He'd come visit, sometimes out of the blue, and her mom would be frantic to attempt to get the house in order, to spruce herself up and look presentable. However, despite the fact that her father always spent a little time with her, it was obvious that he came to visit Florence. She could never forget the hurt looks on her mom's face whenever they left without her or when her father would call and he'd want to speak to Florence and not her mother. Florence told him this. He got her a phone and told her to keep it a secret. He'd call her and Florence wouldn't tell her mother. He'd visit her and Florence told her mother she was out with friends. He would then come visit the both of them and although these trips were rare, her mom seemed happier since he seemed to want her around. Florence would remember these moments and think back to how pathetic she was and how sad. But she never thought to blame her father for any of this. He always encouraged her to write when she said she liked it, he bought her a computer when she told him she loved making pictures on the computer screens, he encouraged her to learn and do whatever she wanted. He wasn't flawless but Florence never blamed him for anything.
Florence was 13 when her abilities came through. She knew it came through after knocking down one of her friends that was trying to touch her with her disgusting hands in what she thought was a playful prank. She managed to get away from her friends after telling a flimsy story in order to let her father know. He told take care of it and told her to keep it from her mother. So she did. In the next few weeks, he came and visited, bringing scouts with him, in order to make sure that she mother would be convinced that her abilities were real and that she'd allow Florence to leave France to go to school at the Academy. In all honestly, Florence didn't necessarily want to leave but she did want to learn how to use her abilities.
In the end, her mother relented when Florence promised to come back as often as possible. Then came the whirlwind stress of moving away from her home country, into what she considered an inferior city. Then came the homesickness and having to deal with her forever absent father while being stuck with grandparents who always wanted to touch her and hug her. However, her grandparent’s house was clean and as much as she missed her mom, she loved the cleanliness. However still, she didn’t like being touch, couldn’t stand eating out; she seemed to go almost mad whenever someone sneezed close to her without covering their mouths or whatever anything equally disgusting occurred. School will prove to be interesting.
* puppet on a string ,
[ SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE ]
[ SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE ]
YOUR NAME Lee
YOUR AGE Definitely over 13
RP EXPERIENCE On & off for about a decade
HOW'D YOU FIND US? Lurking
SECRET WORD Silver Bullets
RP SAMPLEMel sighed as she turned over on her bed for what felt like the one-hundredth time tonight. It was irritatingly cold in the room tonight and no amount of snuggling beneath her covers would make her warm. A pity seeing that she had an exam first thing the next morning. Another shift in her bed and Mel finally heard a plopping sound below her as the last of her pillows was pushed from her bed. Someone shifted on the bed beside her, somehow awakened by the sound of her discarded pillow and mumbled, “Shut up and go to bed,” before turning over and sleeping deeply again. How Mel envied all of her roommates. It seemed that everyone was getting a good night sleep except for her. She turned over again in another futile attempt to get comfortable. But alas. Failure once more.
Throwing the covers off of her, she sat up on her bad and took a glance around the room, tying her hair back into a ponytail in the process. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to go to bed. She needed something to read. Something boring. Something that would put her to sleep right away. But she wouldn’t be able to find something like that out of her own book collections; she had impeccably good tastes, after all. Mel wouldn’t be caught dead with a book that she couldn’t stand. There were book burnings for that kind of thing. After a quick but quiet glance around the room, she spotted a book lying on the floor beside one of her roommates’ bed and picked it up. A romance novel; did people really read this trash? Didn’t their heads explode from the trauma? But it was perfect. What could be more boring and unoriginal than this?
Brightened by this new found luck, Mel quickly and quietly made her way out of the room with her book and headed downstairs in the common room, not caring much that she was going out simply in a pair of black sweats and a red sleeveless top. The fire would keep her warm; the headmistress should really consider putting one in the dorm rooms. It would have made her life a lot easier. Not to mention the lives of the other students who had to go through the same trauma that she had to go; forcing themselves to wander down to the common rooms in order to survive the cold nights. Although this didn’t seem to be the case this tonight. There only seemed to be one other in the room very much awake with her.
Despite being in the same house, Mel couldn’t say that she and Mark have spoken much in their years in school. He seemed to like being alone and people like that usually didn’t take it well when someone tried to invade their space. Mel understood that. She had been like that in her first year, after all. Being in a new school and with new people, Mel had been a surprisingly shy child, unwilling to make friends even with the people in her year and her house. It was a wonder how she turned out a great as she did, although just calling it great was being too modest in her opinion. Mel, after a moment’s hesitation, stepped over towards him. It would feel weird to sit in the other side of a very empty room. She still planned to be quiet. It was no good getting worked up and not being able to fall asleep later.
“Hi,” she greeted softly, her tone affected by the silence in the room and the time of night, “I’m just going to read for a while. I’ll try not to bother you too much.” She took a seat near him and opened the book in front of her, flipping through the pages.
