Post by mer on Mar 5, 2007 20:53:28 GMT -5
Name: Mercedes Lionora Maddeau
Age: 17
Birthday: April 14th
Bloodline: Half (mum's a witch, dad's a muggle)
Physical Description: Mercedes stands around 5'6", an average height for a slender female her age. Constantly looking up or looking down to people gets kind of irritating after awhile though, so Mercedes doesn't really try and socialize. She feels that her height makes her a very average, conforming person, and this displeases her, so sometimes Mercedes will wear tall shoes to make herself taller so that she sticks out a little more.
Her clear blue/grey/hazel eyes are something that is easy to get lost in. They draw you in with their inability to choose a definite color, and they keep you interested by their ever-constant sense of calming and vulnerability. Mercedes's facial expression hardly looks anything but peaceful, calm, or happy, though she does go through the variety of emotions, like every other female on the planet.
Mercedes's brown hair has a little bit of body in it and falls just to her shoulders, if not a smidge past them. Layered, it's natually thicker on top with a thin, kind of hourglass texture throughout. If she feels the need to curl it, then she can make it all in one big arc out and back in, but most of the time, she can barely stand to touch it with anything but shampoo and conditioner. Not many styling products find favor with Mercedes.
Personality: Mercedes is very laid back, calm, and relaxed, but this could be because of her constantly being sick. Mercedes is really always suffering from some sort of sickness, however major or minor. Because of a horrible immune system (it's genetic) anything that comes within ten feet of Mercedes gets into her system.
Mercedes has also learned throughout the course of her life that being an indifferent person is the only way to minimize how much you are hurt in life. By not really caring about much of anything, Mercedes has managed to deviate from a typical teenage life of heatbreak, drama, and suicide attempts. She's been able to live a life, thusfar, of relative serenity, seemingly happy days, and a pretty optimistic attitude. Life has been pretty good thusfar, so why ruin it by dwelling on sour moments when you can just brush them off, pretending you don't care?
Likes: Music therapy, Psychology, Writing, and Bottled water.
Dislikes: Being sick (which is oddly ironic), dealing with life's everday little problems, soda pop or anything carbonated, and bananas.
History: Mercedes was originally from France, born to parents that had completely ingulged themselves in the lives of a travelling theatre troupe. This troupe, the Malteize, travelled from city to city around France, performing various plays, most of which had been written by their resident playwright, Meghan (a male). Mercedes had quickly befriended Meghan's daughter, Brigitte, since they had been born around the same time.
One night, while the troupe was performing, Mercedes met with Brigitte in the housing tent and told her about the letter she'd received by owl earlier that day. She hadn't seen many owls that had come by where they were performing for those couple of days, so it had been odd at first, and Mercedes had known that it must be something special. Mercedes told Brigitte that the letter has said that Mercedes was being summoned to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was a witch. Just like her mom.
Brigitte had sat in silence for a moment and then burst out laughing, asking Mercedes if she really believed in all the nonsense surrounding witcraft and wizardry. Mercedes had waved the letter in Brigitte's face, showing her the Hogwarts seal and other official business. Brigitte still refused to believe her, leading Mercedes to believe that the rest of the troupe would feel the same. So, that night, Mercedes packed her things and ran, determined to get as close to Hogwarts as she possibly could.
She didn't say goodbye to her troupe, and she didn't even tell her mother that she'd gotten in to Hogwarts. Mercedes just told herself that she'd send an owl to her mom when she got to school and just ran.
Family and Pets: Mercedes's mother and father were both members of a travelling theatre troupe. The members of the troupe, 6-8 or so of them, had really become her family. There was Meghan, the playwright. Brigitte grew to be the troupe's musician. Orchid was the troupe's female vocalist. Blaire was the troupe's male vocalist. So many of these people had treated Mercedes as if she were their own flesh and blood. She felt bad for leaving them.
She has no pets.
Roleplaying Sample:
In an continent called Europe, there is a country called France. Inside the 260,558 square mile expanse of land in France, there is a city called Paris. In this city of Love, there is a particular street alive and humming with the sounds of music and laughter. The voices of its inhabitants danced and twirled in the air, intertwining and becoming one, joining an extravagant and great symphony in the sky. Even the birds were singing in tune with, and seemingly along with, the joyous music below.
Somewhere on the outskirts of the festivities, Mercedes stood quietly in a small building. Her hands worked diligently as she applied the pastic stones to the form-fitting piece of thin plastic that would soon cover her face. Royal blue, Emerald green, Ruby red, Cornflower gold, and Majestic purple gems were arranged in a seemingly insignificant and nonspecific pattern, but to Mercedes, it was special. It was defining. It was herself.
She remembered what her father used to tell her when she was a little girl, encouraging her to be a modest young lady: "In your clothes avoid too much gaudiness; do not value yourself upon an embroidered gown; and remember that a reasonable word, or an obliging look, will gain you more respect than all your fine trappings." Mercedes looked down at her brilliantly colored and embroidered costume, and took a second look at her hand-created mask. What would Papa think if he saw her now?
Reaching a slender hand and grasping the stick that was now attached to her newly-made mask, she held it to her face and crossed the short ditance to the other side of the abandoned shop to the old, somewhat warped mirror. Making out what she could beyond the dust and the cracks, and attempting to maneuver around the warped areas of the mirror, Mercedes gave a content sigh, smiling as if she had just created the world's finest masterpiece.
Returning to the antiquated work table, she piled the brilliantly-colored, yet unused gems back into the small container from which they had come. Placing the container back on the shelf, she walked out the door into the chaotic and numbing whirring of the sourrounding noise.
Mercedes walked the street slowly, getting bumed into on her left and her right, turning her 'round a bit to see the street from a new perspective, even if she just a few seconds. All the passing people were clad in appropriate attire for the day's events. Mercedes felt like she fit in. Raising the mask to her face, she walked the streets, looking for a sign of people she knew.
Masquerade.
Age: 17
Birthday: April 14th
Bloodline: Half (mum's a witch, dad's a muggle)
Physical Description: Mercedes stands around 5'6", an average height for a slender female her age. Constantly looking up or looking down to people gets kind of irritating after awhile though, so Mercedes doesn't really try and socialize. She feels that her height makes her a very average, conforming person, and this displeases her, so sometimes Mercedes will wear tall shoes to make herself taller so that she sticks out a little more.
Her clear blue/grey/hazel eyes are something that is easy to get lost in. They draw you in with their inability to choose a definite color, and they keep you interested by their ever-constant sense of calming and vulnerability. Mercedes's facial expression hardly looks anything but peaceful, calm, or happy, though she does go through the variety of emotions, like every other female on the planet.
Mercedes's brown hair has a little bit of body in it and falls just to her shoulders, if not a smidge past them. Layered, it's natually thicker on top with a thin, kind of hourglass texture throughout. If she feels the need to curl it, then she can make it all in one big arc out and back in, but most of the time, she can barely stand to touch it with anything but shampoo and conditioner. Not many styling products find favor with Mercedes.
Personality: Mercedes is very laid back, calm, and relaxed, but this could be because of her constantly being sick. Mercedes is really always suffering from some sort of sickness, however major or minor. Because of a horrible immune system (it's genetic) anything that comes within ten feet of Mercedes gets into her system.
Mercedes has also learned throughout the course of her life that being an indifferent person is the only way to minimize how much you are hurt in life. By not really caring about much of anything, Mercedes has managed to deviate from a typical teenage life of heatbreak, drama, and suicide attempts. She's been able to live a life, thusfar, of relative serenity, seemingly happy days, and a pretty optimistic attitude. Life has been pretty good thusfar, so why ruin it by dwelling on sour moments when you can just brush them off, pretending you don't care?
Likes: Music therapy, Psychology, Writing, and Bottled water.
Dislikes: Being sick (which is oddly ironic), dealing with life's everday little problems, soda pop or anything carbonated, and bananas.
History: Mercedes was originally from France, born to parents that had completely ingulged themselves in the lives of a travelling theatre troupe. This troupe, the Malteize, travelled from city to city around France, performing various plays, most of which had been written by their resident playwright, Meghan (a male). Mercedes had quickly befriended Meghan's daughter, Brigitte, since they had been born around the same time.
One night, while the troupe was performing, Mercedes met with Brigitte in the housing tent and told her about the letter she'd received by owl earlier that day. She hadn't seen many owls that had come by where they were performing for those couple of days, so it had been odd at first, and Mercedes had known that it must be something special. Mercedes told Brigitte that the letter has said that Mercedes was being summoned to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was a witch. Just like her mom.
Brigitte had sat in silence for a moment and then burst out laughing, asking Mercedes if she really believed in all the nonsense surrounding witcraft and wizardry. Mercedes had waved the letter in Brigitte's face, showing her the Hogwarts seal and other official business. Brigitte still refused to believe her, leading Mercedes to believe that the rest of the troupe would feel the same. So, that night, Mercedes packed her things and ran, determined to get as close to Hogwarts as she possibly could.
She didn't say goodbye to her troupe, and she didn't even tell her mother that she'd gotten in to Hogwarts. Mercedes just told herself that she'd send an owl to her mom when she got to school and just ran.
Family and Pets: Mercedes's mother and father were both members of a travelling theatre troupe. The members of the troupe, 6-8 or so of them, had really become her family. There was Meghan, the playwright. Brigitte grew to be the troupe's musician. Orchid was the troupe's female vocalist. Blaire was the troupe's male vocalist. So many of these people had treated Mercedes as if she were their own flesh and blood. She felt bad for leaving them.
She has no pets.
Roleplaying Sample:
In an continent called Europe, there is a country called France. Inside the 260,558 square mile expanse of land in France, there is a city called Paris. In this city of Love, there is a particular street alive and humming with the sounds of music and laughter. The voices of its inhabitants danced and twirled in the air, intertwining and becoming one, joining an extravagant and great symphony in the sky. Even the birds were singing in tune with, and seemingly along with, the joyous music below.
Somewhere on the outskirts of the festivities, Mercedes stood quietly in a small building. Her hands worked diligently as she applied the pastic stones to the form-fitting piece of thin plastic that would soon cover her face. Royal blue, Emerald green, Ruby red, Cornflower gold, and Majestic purple gems were arranged in a seemingly insignificant and nonspecific pattern, but to Mercedes, it was special. It was defining. It was herself.
She remembered what her father used to tell her when she was a little girl, encouraging her to be a modest young lady: "In your clothes avoid too much gaudiness; do not value yourself upon an embroidered gown; and remember that a reasonable word, or an obliging look, will gain you more respect than all your fine trappings." Mercedes looked down at her brilliantly colored and embroidered costume, and took a second look at her hand-created mask. What would Papa think if he saw her now?
Reaching a slender hand and grasping the stick that was now attached to her newly-made mask, she held it to her face and crossed the short ditance to the other side of the abandoned shop to the old, somewhat warped mirror. Making out what she could beyond the dust and the cracks, and attempting to maneuver around the warped areas of the mirror, Mercedes gave a content sigh, smiling as if she had just created the world's finest masterpiece.
Returning to the antiquated work table, she piled the brilliantly-colored, yet unused gems back into the small container from which they had come. Placing the container back on the shelf, she walked out the door into the chaotic and numbing whirring of the sourrounding noise.
Mercedes walked the street slowly, getting bumed into on her left and her right, turning her 'round a bit to see the street from a new perspective, even if she just a few seconds. All the passing people were clad in appropriate attire for the day's events. Mercedes felt like she fit in. Raising the mask to her face, she walked the streets, looking for a sign of people she knew.
Masquerade.
