Post by huntersinclair on Feb 23, 2008 3:57:31 GMT -6
[/b][/size]Valkyrie Academy
About The Roleplayer:
Name:Gurms
Age:16
Gender: of the female variety
Years Roleplaying:2 ish
Some Basic Interests: wet lab photography, painting, making sarcastic remarks...
About The Character
Name:Audrey James Harper
Age: 17
Gender: female
School Year:senior
Art Interest (why you’re here): Photography, Film, Theatre
Originated From: Austrailia, Italy.
Parents:Alastair Harper- 53, Criminal Justice Lawyer
Moira Harper- 47, housewife, deceased
Biological mother- unknown
Siblings:Alexander Harper
Damien Harper
Portrayed By:Kristen Stewart
Picture:
Appearance:
Audrey James may have an uncommon name, but her features, to her, are bordering generically manufactured. She sees the world through curious grey, sometimes blue, eyes; she chuckles from full pale rose lips, shading her amusement with long, slender fingers. Softly waved dark locks tumble back and forth, accentuated her mirth-filled eyes. Some might even think that she happens to be beautiful. Her complexion usually lacks the masks of make up because she prefers the extra twenty minutes of sleep.
Now it seems that Audrey appears to be of the sloppy, find-the-article-of-clothing-with-the-least-amount-of food-stains kind of person, but she is not that far gone into the depths of filth. She showers regularly and a subtle scent of lavender lingers on her. A pair of darkly washed jeans hangs on her hips with a rainbow belt, as she pulls over a navy blue off the shoulder short-sleeved blouse. Upon agreeing with herself that she looks presentable, a dab of black mascara and a swipe of some lip balm enhances her appearance.
Before exiting her room, a quick glanced in the mirror, she rapidly checks her ears for rings and a diminutively sized stone laying nestled in white gold. After the look-over was complete, her eyes would fall on the green digits of her clock, blaring at her, screaming at her potential tardiness. With a light gasp and sudden disorientation, she manages to pull on a pair of mismatched socks, strapping her necklace with an owl pendent around her neck, and frantically searching her room for her messenger bag full of books. Running out her bedroom door, Audrey manages to pilfer her brother’s bagel, taking a little break before another race against time pursued. Throwing on her black half trench coat style jacket, and slipping into her “authentically altered” shoes, Audrey rushes out the door, and into her car before racing away, in hopes of arriving on time.
Personality:
Audrey is easy going, laid back, mostly childish and quite humorous. However, she did not get the nickname ‘Dynamite’ for nothing. Small and fiery describes her perfectly. Being of the outspoken type, she isn’t scared to give her two cents worth; even if only a penny for her thoughts. Be it the principal, her boss, or a passer-by she just happens to eavesdrop on; if a controversial topic floats into her ear,
Audrey is bound to contribute.
Soaring like the social butterfly that she is, Audrey adapts to almost any mandatory change quickly. However, if she has a say in the matter, she prefers to create the waves instead of going with the flow. Nevertheless, she has connections everywhere.
Audrey’s philosophy is that growing up is overrated, that the glamorous façade of adulthood is just a joke. So to prevent herself from turning into a craggily, thirteen cat owning, close to her death kind of woman, she tends to act in childish ways; but is the circumstances demand it, Audrey can be serious. She has a self-proclaimed condition of ’personality instability’; her moods fluctuate like readings from a psychic. Her anger is vicious; once even going to the extent of breaking someone’s nose. However, her love is passionate and loyal. One word; monogamous. Very monogamous.
She holds her friends and brothers dear, although both parties trample all over her nerves.
Audrey’s stealth abilities are at a minimum since she is likely to trip over her own feet. Yeah, she is full poise. Audrey may seem like a person you can easily know, but sadly, that is an assumption most make of her when they first meet her. She has never uttered a soul of her past, does not plan to, and is very mysterious when it comes to her past. Only her brothers know her deepest secret. To say the very least, Audrey is a fun loving, photographing, loud music playing, and finger-painting criminal. But who’s going to tell the cops?
Likes:
Black and white photography.
Her 35mm Minolta film camera with black and white film
Canon Rebel, her professional digital camera.
Playing with film
Her independance
Music
Exposed brick walls
Bubble gum
One of a kind pieces of jewellery
Sarcasm
Finger painting
The smell of the outside right after it rains
Lavender
The art of being Idle
Foreign languages
Foreign movies
Chocolate chip cookies
Antique cameras
Boston cream pie
Strawberries with that red glaze
Fedoras
Shoes
Laughing until she cries (which is often)
Bursting into random song and dance
Paris
London
New York
Venice
Rome
Europe and Asia in general
Electric guitar
Prose and/or poetry by
Oscar Wilde
Shakespeare
Kit Marlowe
Truman Capote
Robert Cormier
Nicholas Sparks
Robert Frost
Jane Austen
William Butler Yeats
Hemmingway
Just to name a few….
Art by
Vincent Van Goe
Andy Warhol
Linda McCartney( photography)
Leonardo Da vinci
Michelangelo
Local TALENTED artists of all genres
Just to name a few…
Old Black and white movies
Old horror movies
Lilies and roses
Puddles
Rain
The ocean
Water fights
The Adam Brody types
Foam wars
Humorous people
Serious food
Hide and go seek in the darkroom
Photo albums
Tic tac toe
Biscotti
Bubbles
Dislikes:
Funerals
Cheating
Massive ego
Clingyness
Layers of caked on Make-up
Flaws:
- Anger gets the best of her.
- Uses god's name in vain, constantly
- Creates distances between herself and others when something is wrong; also becomes very quiet, which is unnatural for her.
- Impulsive
Secrets:
- She is a product of an affair between her father and a mistress
- Father is now on constant suicide alert and is in a monitored facility
- Has a low self-esteem problem masked by false confidence.
History:
‘No stork delivered here.’
She was alone. Alone in an Austrailian hospital, with only the vast window to keep her company. Her black curls pushed back into a ponytail, and her body was draped in a papery hospital robe. Labour was simple. Contractions normal. However, it was the fact that this was happening three months prior to the expected date, which sent a chill across her arms, raising tiny goose bumps. The labour was simple; it was the birth that was excruciating. Beads of sweat gathered at her brow with each push, but it was paid off by the angelic screams of an infant, clearing its lungs and hitting her eardrums with high-pitched screeching.
On this day, July 15th 1990, Audrey James Harper arrived in the world with lightly colored hair, seemingly bright blue eyes and covered in soft pink baby skin. An hour later, complications with the anaesthesia had killed the infant’s biological mother.
Audrey was brought home within her Father’s loving arms, and was subjected to many visits from unknown people, under the impression that Moira, her father’s wife, had actually given birth to the little one. Through clenched jaw grins, Moira played along, only later to erupt with truth.
Audrey had a typical childhood, full of Barbie dolls and crayons against the wall. Everyday was a tea party for the youngest Harper child, and everyday was dress up day.
The beginning of school meant new friends outside the play dates that filled her indolent days. Making her best friends the moments they played with their Barbies, it was an easy time for Audrey.
Spending summers in Rome and Venice, schooling in Sydney, Austrailia, Audrey was quite the little traveller. Life’s responsibilities still had not caught up with her, and the only real pain she felt were the constant scars and scrapes of her ungraceful expeditions.
‘Awkward Tweenie bopper and not much of a graceful teenager.’
Audrey’s ‘tween time’ was actually more of a transitional kind of phase, with uncomfortable school dances, discovering boys other than her brothers and father and awkward sexual education classes, to her then were of no importance. At this time of her life, she observed the cruel ways of the cliques, not really blending in with the rest of the population. Nearing the end of her preteens, she had found her two loves; the guitar and photography. Spending most of her free time in darkroom or the band room, music and the soothing chemicals of developing photos became second nature to her. Her old bedroom’s ensuite was transformed into a homemade, light tight, darkroom away from the darkroom, with the cupboards full of large jugs of chemicals to create her artwork.
Around her fifteenth summer, she was playing hide-and-go-seek, not knowing it would be her last time. On that fateful night, she witnessed the death of her mother. Her naturalized mother, not biological, as she now referred to her. Audrey and her family moved back to New York, in attempts to leave the sorrow of Moira behind them. Some attempt. After a year and a half in New York, things started to slide with Alastair. With her father in the depths of depression, and on constant suicide alert, Audrey saw days of constant vigilance by all the authorities, even a couple psychiatrists. The summer of her seventeenth birthday, it was all crashing atop of Audrey. A drastic modification was in order.
‘That was then, this is now’
She needed a change of scene; they wanted to make it big and had their chance. So Alex, Damien and Audrey packed up their belongings and headed to fabulous Valkyrie, California. Fresh out of New York, the already had street sense and managed to attain a two bed roomed apartment on the top level. Giving Audrey her space, the brothers decided to let her have her own room, leaving themselves to buy a bunk bed and sharing their room territory.
Because of her living arrangements and the fact that she is the baby of the family, her brothers, Alexander and Damien, are easily categorized as the stereotypical, overprotective older brothers seen repeatedly on every television screen across the nation. She loves them unconditionally although the sheltering can become overbearing on her friendships with guys at the beginning. With all flaws put aside, life is beginning to shape up. New city, new surroundings, new school and even newer people. Who know what will happen?
Living Situation: Let's SHAKS it up.
For The Valkyrie Academy Admin:[/b][/size]
Read the Rules?:yuppers
Name One You Liked:
5b. "In addition to this, there is an exception. If you have a few characters, and you want to 'replace' one that doesn't quite have enough posts to make another and you don't want that character, you can delete that one and make a new one. If you have any questions on this rule, feel free to ask a staff member."
What Makes Your Character Different From The Rest?:
What makes Audrey different from the rest? Good question. Let us see. She witnessed the death of her supposed mother, thats one. She isn't plastic like most whore-ible girls, and tends to steer clear of major make-up issues, enjoying her extra hour of sleep. She has a tendency to hurt herself and fall, unintentionally. She is a whiz on old school cameras. Then again, not much is different about our dear ol' Audrey Harper.
Roleplaying Sample:
‘Arid sorrow’
His hand quivered around the pistol as light grey smoke left the tip of it. His mouth was a gaping hole; his eyes were wide but emotionless. She lay sprawling along the armoire, the blood slowly dispersing on her mauve nightgown. She was dead; almost instantaneously. Alexander and Damien tried to shelter Audrey but it was too late. She was the first to arrive. Actually, she had witnessed the ordeal; all accidentally as an innocent game of hide-and-go seek became fatal. Hiding inside the armoire, she witnessed everything from the argument, the unfortunate bullet and now the body of her mother laying lifeless, drooping on the armoire before sliding to the floor the blood marking a trail. Being of the small bodied, Audrey slipped behind the cedar doors of the armoire with ease, a minute before her parents rushed into the room, flaming in fury.
Her mother immediately lurched out a suitcase, stored under the massive bed, now throwing in random attire haphazardly into the mouth of the case. Alastair, Audrey’s father, grabbed the woman by the wrist, halting her packing for a moment before she ripped her arm away.
She shrieked at her husband and her nearly failed marriage, “Alastair! Let go of me! I cannot take it anymore. I’m doing this for me, and you should just let me go.” She zipped up the black suitcase; her hands lingered against the clasp.
“But Moira, don’t stay for me, but what about the children? Alex is graduating, Damien is about to receive the most prestigious award in his academic career, thus far, and Audrey; our little girl. She’s just--”
Moira cut him off, “No Alastair, she’s your little girl. Just a product of a broken condom, deceit, unfaithfulness and that whore. I have been nice about and I forgave you for what you had done. I even went to the extent of accepting your daughter and raising her as my own. But…I… I cannot do it anymore. Every time I look at her, it reminds me of what you did and it fills me with this poisonous hatred. It wasn’t so bad when she was younger, but now she looks like her…” She trailed off, grasping for her temples with a wan hand, Moira referred to the other woman as ’her’ spitting the word as if it were as foul as the deed. Moira chuckled, coming to a realization, “The only reason I accepted your mistake,” Audrey shivered, knowing to whom the reference was applied to, “Was that fate dealt me a tainted hand. The day I was going to be blessed with another bundle of joy, our actual little girl, she, rest her soul, came to me in the form of a soft, chubby, adorably pink stillborn. The same day your tramp went into premature labour, producing a three-month premature baby…With those bloody grey eyes. Her eyes.”
An epiphany shadowed over Audrey, all those hostile moments with her so-called mother, was on purpose. All those memories of guilt and the feeling of not being good enough were woven into Audrey because of the fact that she was not blood related to the woman standing in front of her. Her mother, or so she had appeared for the last, fifteen years, had secretly loathed her. A solitary tear rippled over her cheek, threatening to hit her collarbone, as it lay suspended in midair on the edge of her jaw.
Rage bubbled in Alastair’s eye, “It’s not her fault that her biological mother was someone I had a one time affair with; that her mother was a mistress.”
“You know what? I have had it with you defending your blunder by twisting my intentions and making it seem like I’m the horrible one in this marriage.” Moira spat at him, disgust filled her eyes as she crossed her arms. Quickly uncrossing them, she reached in the unlatched pocket of the suitcase, and took out a small but distinctly visible handgun. Cocking the bullet, her hand shivered as he raised the loaded gun to her head, gulping once before her eyes met Alastair’s.
“This is what it has driven me to. To wither in despair and the venom you created inside of me or to end all this by either taking my own life or yours.” Her finger curled around the trigger as Alastair heaved his tall frame, clutching his wife’s fragile hand coiled around the gun.
“Moira, what are you doing? Moira…Please….Sweetheart…Let go of the gun…” Alastair said in scattered breaths.
Both husband and wife struggled epically with the pistol. It veered back and forth, and Alastair’s finger unknowingly wrapped around Moira’s trigger finger, setting off the weapon. Alastair’s hands dropped as Moira fell to the side, hitting the armoire as she slumped to the floor.
--------
Audrey was the youngest of her family who attended the funeral. Dressed in black like the rest of the attending guests, she sat in the pews of the funeral home, her head against Damien’s shoulder. All were sopping up tears with pearly white handkerchiefs at the eulogies, while the women lifted intricately designed black veils in order to view the open casket. All eyes were moist except for Audrey’s. Hers were as dry as desert sand slipping between one’s fingertips. But maybe this was even worse than crying.
- ok, so that was a little more of an elaboration on Audrey’s naturalized mother’s death which is history, but it still counts for the sample….right?
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