Post by CHELS on Nov 2, 2006 23:01:33 GMT -6
Application[/b][/font]
About You:
Name: Chelsea || CHELS
Age: Fourteen
Gender: Female
Some Basic Interests: Cross Country, The O.C & Music.
About You Character
Name: Anne Lévesque
Age: Sixteen
Gender: Female
School Year: Junior
Art Interest: --- [she's here just because her father needs her to have a solid education. she's the worst at having side activities]
Originated From: Quebec, Canada
Parents: Marius & Romaine
Siblings: Jason
Appearance:
Personality:
Anne can be a whole mix of things to be described, but the three words that relate to her the most is serendipity, fundamental and pride. Ever since she was around the age of five she has held up her strong reputation of having a certain beauty that can’t be defined right away, but eventually, as you work towards it, it becomes quite clear. Strictly on the fence of being everyday to abstract, she’s still something that can make an Isaac Newton flabbergasted. Waves of sandy, dark brown curl, slick or fling itself around Anne’s back and shoulders. When she was younger she could have sworn the color of her hair was a very light brown with cute little wisps of waves, but mostly straight locks. Now, reaching having reached the age of sweet sixteen in late July, she finds herself with an indecisive head of hair. Some days, it curls in ringlets too thick to brush, but then the next day her hair could be quite straight with no knot in sight. From this, she as learned that her hair has a personality of its own, and whatever she wakes up with, will be what she will stick to. Depending on the seasons, the color of her face ranges from sunburned cheeks in summer with spots of beige freckles, freshening up with little sign of acne or pimples in autumn, quite pale with frosty cheeks in the winter and during spring her cheeks melt off the frost and return to a natural in the middle color. Although, during these times she did visit other temperature changing places that taught her what her face looked like with actual season changes. A never ending fazed memory that Anne could recall was placed in the summer ending fifth grade, where she sat around bored on the deck that lead in spiraling staircases to the clean cut lawns of the Lévesque acre yard. Her nanny was taking the afternoon nap and the maids were busy cleaning before her torrid step mother came home, so she tried an experiment, being as curious of a George that there ever was. Taking one of her father’s old golf balls from the storage, she started to throw it against the newly built, wooden floorboards of the deck. Curiosity of what lay inside the golf ball was rattling, as she looked for a wall immediately, finding the garden fence that was supposed to look simple and plain white as if they were from the sixties, hah, yeah right! Thrusting with all the strength she could muster she through the golf ball against the newly painted white fence, but what wasn’t logical about her little experiment was that the golf ball itself was using Newton’s Third Law; Action & Reaction. Spiraling back at her, the golf ball hit her in the corner of her forehead, leaving a scar that was horribly disgusting at first, but now indented in the corner of her forehead. She thinks of it as a lesson learned, and that she should study science and Isaac Newton a bit more.
The grey arches that rise above her eyelashes are her thick eyebrows, which stand out from the rest. Eyelashes have always been her falter, because whether or not she wears enough mascara, or any of it for that matter, she’s never satisfied with them. It could be because all of the Maybelline commercials with Adriana Lima get her much too determined to make them perfection. Normally, her eyelashes are quite dark, which is normal for pretty much everyone except the blonde bombshells like Gemma Ward. Usually after Anne has something salty after a dinner or anything before bed, she’ll wake up with very swollen and abnormally big eyelids. If this happens, she’ll not be able to see in the morning and will refer to the big ice chest in the grand kitchen to lower the swollen eyelids. If her eyelids are normal, she will apply all sorts of things, usually out of boredom. It ranges from bright, white eye shadow to tacky glitter which she tends to pull off every time. There isn’t much she does with her eye shadow or eyelids for that matter, but it’s something that is there, and she likes to accessorize, besides the fact that you’re not allowed to wear make up in the school. Round, barely ovals that reflect the mystic fog of a spiraling woods and plain, where golden flecks of sand sprinkle from top to bottom. Rarely, that is. This is what could be explained as Anne’s eyes, where she has golden flecks in the dark brown pools in summer, and are just chestnut dark every time else. Her pupils, like everyone else’s are black. Her eyes speak and breathe frosty fire, and make a glance turn into a pose, possibly a beware signal. After a long, cramming study session in the late hours of night, she receives in return long, drooping bags that can be recovered from an ice-pack.
Past Anne’s lower lashes lay her high cheekbones and strong, experienced nose. As mentioned before, her cheeks do change color as the seasons and weather change, but also grow their own freckles and personality of their own. Not yet untamed, once in a blue moon, Daphne will turn as red as a boiling lobster from embarrassment. Her nose does not stick up in a snotty fashion, nor does a droop down like a clown. It simply curves a bit out and up, only a little, and with a little flare in the nostrils. Her nose is definitely not tall or wide, nor is it so tiny that she looks like an alien. Pink, red, orange maybe even silver, the shades and colors of Anne’s lips range from everything. During the high class New Years Eve celebrations she will wear the metallic silver lipstick, and maybe just on a normal day a little pink gloss will do the trick.
Anne had had a flat chest her whole life until she was twelve, when she started to grow from 4’ to 5’. From then, she had worn tighter shirts, flaunted what she had grown, and to no one’s surprise, none of her parents had cared. Her nanny was the one to tone it down before she was dress coded another time. This seemed to be one of the new foolish processes for her to get a much worse bad reputation, a young preteen gone wild. Moving onto her petite stomach, in which doesn’t have any packs, but doesn’t have any flab either. All in all, her stomach does fit her body and height all in all, with its tiny, circle inn bellybutton that looks as if it was pressed inside of her stomach. Anne had never really considered getting a piercing near her belly button, but if she had the option, she’d probably do it, being as free willing as she is. Her nanny had given her one single bit of advice; “If they feel fat, work out. Eat right. Get off the drugs.” That is exactly what Anne had done. Sometimes her thighs get terribly itchy, because she hasn’t been told that after shaving, then applying lotion it can make them itchier than dry skin, but she’ll be learning soon. Her knees are not boney or knobby, but quite rounded with many cuts from shaving. Let’s just say she can get impatient and cuts right to the chase. If she takes her time, which on occasion she does, then there’s barely a cut in sight on her knees, but that is rare, because everything is fast in motion for Anne. Surprisingly, maybe its tennis, but her calves are very firm and muscular. She’s not sure where she got that from because no other part of her body has this kind of built, or muscle. Yet, here she finds herself with very muscular calves. They’re usually dark from skirts and shorts during tennis practice, which is daily, and is always always always smooth. She has an addiction that if there is one sign of a hair on her calves she’ll shave it right off. Finally ending with her feet, which are perpetually small and painted always with a French tip, this is how Anne is. She’s defiance of pride, fundamentals and serendipity, something unexpected.
History: Quebec, as most know, is in Eastern Canada, and is the second largest province in Canada. Where the English speak was rare and it was mostly eloquent French words, the money flowed into the hands of Marius Lévesque, whom took the family’s name into the art gallery business. He was a stern man who always loved being crowned the next heir of the family’s fortune and fame. In a summary, they were representatives for many famous art galleries in Canada, Paris, Rome and some in the States. They would be called into the find certain pieces of art for the galleries, and in return would earn buckets of money every second counted. Some people in the family loved what they did, actually; every single member of the family did. Even though the Lévesque remained quite small, that was the way they liked it, and it kept their reputation sought out throughout the world of art and money. Marius was to be married to Romaine Laurent, a beautiful woman with a secret; she didn’t want her life. The Lévesque & Laurent families were always friends, and always were hoping for the day when their children would unite. The Laurent family owned a half of land in the lower-town in Quebec, which meant they controlled everyone’s poor lives down there while they lived the rich and glamorous ones. Romaine was always the oddball in the family, and didn’t like the idea of marrying Marius and having the wealth to control over the hungry and poor families in the neighboring towns. Yet, she was never that strong herself, so she married Marius at the age of eighteen, not having much of a choice. It was either that or she would have to face her family, and sometimes, that could be the hardest thing in the world. The marriage between Marius and Romaine wasn’t difficult like most, because right after the ceremony, Marius gave Romaine the keys to the manor and flew off in a jet plane to look for more art. He was addicted to his work, and that suited Romaine fine, because she despised him as a person. Her first days in the manor were luxury. She was quite a fan of writing and penciling in poetry that sung throughout of heart on the acres of lawns or beneath a big oak tree. She was kind, a belle, charming and loved the outdoors. The inside of the manor was beautiful, but it wasn’t what she would imagine herself actually spending more than two hours in.
It was tradition, of course, to conceive your first child as soon as after the marriage to stay young with the children. Marius and Romaine completed this transaction, but not with happiness. They worked, and they did the sweet talk, but they were far from love. Romaine was in a terrible state, and just wanted to find someone to love, someone to talk to. So, after finding that she was pregnant, the family secret began. Meet Luc Durand, the butler to the family and a very wise, suave man. He was the one that took Romaine to get the baby checked up on, and treated her with the utmost respect, unlike Marius. One night, Marius scolded her for smoking with the baby in the loom, and while she shouldn’t have smoked in the first place, which was turning into her own addiction, Luc was by her side. He consoled her, and told her how she should be treated so much better and how she should be having the perfect life. Two glasses of wine and one conversation later, she ended up falling in love with Luc, proving it by a passionate kiss by the fireside. It was everything she could have wanted, except for the part where she was already married. Days after she had kissed Luc, they were always close, and couldn’t take their eyes off of each other, and it was getting risky with Marius at home with phone calls or just resting. Then, a couple of months before Anne were to be born, and Romaine was quite pregnant at this point, Marius caught her with Luc. It was chaos, and even though Marius didn’t love Romaine enough to actually care as much as a husband should, he yelled at the two of them, made them on the verge of tears, fired Luc and had a private conversation inside the master bedroom with Anne. After that conversation, Anne was broken. She had lost the love of her life, she was trapped in a manor and had to pretend that their lives were perfect. Perfection was overrated at this point, but to the Lévesque family, it was a style of vintage. She attended banquets; spoke elegantly and never acted out of order like she had in the past. Then, Anne was born.
Anne was born on June 21, 1989, where the eighties were leaving the world and the Fresh Prince was rocking the television screens. She was born around 6:00 PM on that early summer night Hôtel-Dieu Hospital, which had bore ever Laurent and Lévesque known to man since the 1800’s. Romaine was overjoyed at the birth of her only child, her only daughter Anne. Marius had made it just in time to watch the birth and was flustered. Here was this cold hearted man, being broken by all the love that filled the room of his new daughter. It was his job to make sure she turned into the best he could make her, and with that final note posted in his memory log, he left to Paris for a conference, which would make his career. Not like he needed more money anyways. A couple of days after the birth, Romaine took Anne to the manor, and from all the check ups, Anne was perfectly healthy. The manor was what contaminated the baby. For some reason, Anne couldn’t stand being in the manor, and would cry consistently. No one knew why, except Romaine. Romaine had always believed that babies were wise beyond speculation, and could sense when there was sadness in a home, or a dark past of secrets. To the local eyes, Anne had turned from Belle in Beauty of the Beast to Cruella Deville. Yet; only Anne would see that Romaine was still that helpless teenager forced by family tradition into a life she didn’t want. This is when Anne recalled that memory of her mother crying of happiness to have someone to confide in, which only lasted until Anne hit the double digits, and would actually understand. Anne doesn’t remember anything that Romaine has told her as a baby, and Romaine is still contemplating to keep it that way. Marius treated his daughter like a prize, but also like a training horse. While Romaine turned into a strict mother when it was time for Anne to learn the family ways, like how to present herself to the public and speak both English and French fluently, Marius taught her other things; how to win. He always mentioned how, “the fight isn’t over until you get what you want”. Apparently, it was what all fathers told their children when they reached ten and older. Anne wasn’t having fun, unlike her cousins from her dad’s sibling’s children and mother’s. Her cousins always thought of her as the weird one in the family, who didn’t want what her destiny held. She had learned a great hobby; photography. She took pictures of everything strange & beautiful, which encircled her whole life. Still, she got bored easily of the manor and trying to be perfection, so that’s when she looked for a new home to rest in, a boarding school. Everywhere, she looked for a random, far away school from Quebec, and nearing the end of her eighth grade career, she proposed to go to Valkyrie Academy. Her father was angry, and bewildered. Never had a Lévesque ever ran away from where they should be. He was a cunning man, and also thought of this as a challenge. He knew she wouldn’t survive without her afternoon tea and personal studies with the tutors, so he let her go, without her mother’s consent. Now, her main goal is to find a way to break the angry family cycle.
Flaws: Oh there are plenty of flaws that belong to Anne. From the starting of her untameable hair to her itchy legs; the list goes on, but yet she won't show it. She never exactly knows how to styler her hair, and rarely does it tend to cooperate with her, which can drive a girl crazy. When she was younger, she has planted a scar near her temple from trying to find out what lay inside a golf ball, by throwing it at a fence, yet it rebounded back and hit her in the head, leaving an indented scar. She does not know how to handle mascara, and rarely ever handles with it by herself, unless she plans on making a mess. On long nights, or just waking up on the wrong side of the bed, her eyes easily get puffy & baggy. It's something she's grown to learn and live with. Her legs get itchy easily, so she scratches them consistantly and hides the scratch marks with lotion.
Living Situation: The Lévesque estate was gorgeous. Although it lays very far away from the social parties, it's near a large group of mountains with a guarded, golden gate with painted angels imprinted on the fronts. The long driveway spirals through a thick patch of rose colored leafs hanging off the trees, and then you enter the very Perisian styled mansion with amazing designing and architecture, along with arches & mini balconies that graze the sky. Quite the change to going to a dorm, now isn't it?
Roleplaying Example: From Hartwell Academy
The lights illuminated the Dining Hall to perfection, and the marble floors were glistening with polished shine. Still, it did the very least at impressing Sebastian. Striding through the corridors after sending his little sister to fetch his books, what a sweet heart, he had opened the door to the Dining Hall. Alright, so he had lied about the Heads and Prefects having their shining moment at the Head table, but he knew his stubborn little sister wouldn’t do it without reasoning. It was always about reasoning with her, and sometimes you just had to lie. Of course, she’d get over it quickly, considering they were much too close and mature to fight about a white lie. Walking to a table filled with different assortments of students, girls and boys, in which some were practicing their talents, he seated himself at the far end. He thought that socializing with a bunch of nitwits wouldn’t satisfy him any more than a raw piece of meat left in a box for ten years. The whole lot of them was always lifting spoons with their minds, dripping water from their fingertips and blowing fire from their mouths like dragons. At this point, he was wishing his sister was here, so they could mock all the giddy students who thought of themselves as adorable or cool. Disgusting was his perception of it.
Sebastian lifted his water goblet, which was already filled centimeters away from the rim, and cleaned the top with the bottom of his finger. Everything besides home and his part of the dorm was so murky and never washed properly, so he was constantly swiping off the dirt from everything he could find. Glaring at several girls who tried to eye flirt with them, and slowly scaring them half to death, he took a slow, solid sip of the water, which seemed almost as horrifying as the goblet itself. He had a severely full stomach, probably from the full lunch he had ate seven hours ago, and still questioned himself of why he was sitting here in the first place. If only there were some spirits to talk to, something that could bring havoc among these annoying youngsters. Yet again, there were barely any evil, dead souls in the Dining Hall, so he was always resorting to talking to them in the dungeons or towers. As he picked up his goblet again, he felt someone nudge his elbow as he placed the goblet back down and sent a menacing glare at the person. Oh, wait till he got fired up. Simply a lowlife of a person touching him was brutal, but those people… nudging him sent him askew.
About You:
Name: Chelsea || CHELS
Age: Fourteen
Gender: Female
Some Basic Interests: Cross Country, The O.C & Music.
About You Character
Name: Anne Lévesque
Age: Sixteen
Gender: Female
School Year: Junior
Art Interest: --- [she's here just because her father needs her to have a solid education. she's the worst at having side activities]
Originated From: Quebec, Canada
Parents: Marius & Romaine
Siblings: Jason
Appearance:
Personality:
Anne can be a whole mix of things to be described, but the three words that relate to her the most is serendipity, fundamental and pride. Ever since she was around the age of five she has held up her strong reputation of having a certain beauty that can’t be defined right away, but eventually, as you work towards it, it becomes quite clear. Strictly on the fence of being everyday to abstract, she’s still something that can make an Isaac Newton flabbergasted. Waves of sandy, dark brown curl, slick or fling itself around Anne’s back and shoulders. When she was younger she could have sworn the color of her hair was a very light brown with cute little wisps of waves, but mostly straight locks. Now, reaching having reached the age of sweet sixteen in late July, she finds herself with an indecisive head of hair. Some days, it curls in ringlets too thick to brush, but then the next day her hair could be quite straight with no knot in sight. From this, she as learned that her hair has a personality of its own, and whatever she wakes up with, will be what she will stick to. Depending on the seasons, the color of her face ranges from sunburned cheeks in summer with spots of beige freckles, freshening up with little sign of acne or pimples in autumn, quite pale with frosty cheeks in the winter and during spring her cheeks melt off the frost and return to a natural in the middle color. Although, during these times she did visit other temperature changing places that taught her what her face looked like with actual season changes. A never ending fazed memory that Anne could recall was placed in the summer ending fifth grade, where she sat around bored on the deck that lead in spiraling staircases to the clean cut lawns of the Lévesque acre yard. Her nanny was taking the afternoon nap and the maids were busy cleaning before her torrid step mother came home, so she tried an experiment, being as curious of a George that there ever was. Taking one of her father’s old golf balls from the storage, she started to throw it against the newly built, wooden floorboards of the deck. Curiosity of what lay inside the golf ball was rattling, as she looked for a wall immediately, finding the garden fence that was supposed to look simple and plain white as if they were from the sixties, hah, yeah right! Thrusting with all the strength she could muster she through the golf ball against the newly painted white fence, but what wasn’t logical about her little experiment was that the golf ball itself was using Newton’s Third Law; Action & Reaction. Spiraling back at her, the golf ball hit her in the corner of her forehead, leaving a scar that was horribly disgusting at first, but now indented in the corner of her forehead. She thinks of it as a lesson learned, and that she should study science and Isaac Newton a bit more.
The grey arches that rise above her eyelashes are her thick eyebrows, which stand out from the rest. Eyelashes have always been her falter, because whether or not she wears enough mascara, or any of it for that matter, she’s never satisfied with them. It could be because all of the Maybelline commercials with Adriana Lima get her much too determined to make them perfection. Normally, her eyelashes are quite dark, which is normal for pretty much everyone except the blonde bombshells like Gemma Ward. Usually after Anne has something salty after a dinner or anything before bed, she’ll wake up with very swollen and abnormally big eyelids. If this happens, she’ll not be able to see in the morning and will refer to the big ice chest in the grand kitchen to lower the swollen eyelids. If her eyelids are normal, she will apply all sorts of things, usually out of boredom. It ranges from bright, white eye shadow to tacky glitter which she tends to pull off every time. There isn’t much she does with her eye shadow or eyelids for that matter, but it’s something that is there, and she likes to accessorize, besides the fact that you’re not allowed to wear make up in the school. Round, barely ovals that reflect the mystic fog of a spiraling woods and plain, where golden flecks of sand sprinkle from top to bottom. Rarely, that is. This is what could be explained as Anne’s eyes, where she has golden flecks in the dark brown pools in summer, and are just chestnut dark every time else. Her pupils, like everyone else’s are black. Her eyes speak and breathe frosty fire, and make a glance turn into a pose, possibly a beware signal. After a long, cramming study session in the late hours of night, she receives in return long, drooping bags that can be recovered from an ice-pack.
Past Anne’s lower lashes lay her high cheekbones and strong, experienced nose. As mentioned before, her cheeks do change color as the seasons and weather change, but also grow their own freckles and personality of their own. Not yet untamed, once in a blue moon, Daphne will turn as red as a boiling lobster from embarrassment. Her nose does not stick up in a snotty fashion, nor does a droop down like a clown. It simply curves a bit out and up, only a little, and with a little flare in the nostrils. Her nose is definitely not tall or wide, nor is it so tiny that she looks like an alien. Pink, red, orange maybe even silver, the shades and colors of Anne’s lips range from everything. During the high class New Years Eve celebrations she will wear the metallic silver lipstick, and maybe just on a normal day a little pink gloss will do the trick.
Anne had had a flat chest her whole life until she was twelve, when she started to grow from 4’ to 5’. From then, she had worn tighter shirts, flaunted what she had grown, and to no one’s surprise, none of her parents had cared. Her nanny was the one to tone it down before she was dress coded another time. This seemed to be one of the new foolish processes for her to get a much worse bad reputation, a young preteen gone wild. Moving onto her petite stomach, in which doesn’t have any packs, but doesn’t have any flab either. All in all, her stomach does fit her body and height all in all, with its tiny, circle inn bellybutton that looks as if it was pressed inside of her stomach. Anne had never really considered getting a piercing near her belly button, but if she had the option, she’d probably do it, being as free willing as she is. Her nanny had given her one single bit of advice; “If they feel fat, work out. Eat right. Get off the drugs.” That is exactly what Anne had done. Sometimes her thighs get terribly itchy, because she hasn’t been told that after shaving, then applying lotion it can make them itchier than dry skin, but she’ll be learning soon. Her knees are not boney or knobby, but quite rounded with many cuts from shaving. Let’s just say she can get impatient and cuts right to the chase. If she takes her time, which on occasion she does, then there’s barely a cut in sight on her knees, but that is rare, because everything is fast in motion for Anne. Surprisingly, maybe its tennis, but her calves are very firm and muscular. She’s not sure where she got that from because no other part of her body has this kind of built, or muscle. Yet, here she finds herself with very muscular calves. They’re usually dark from skirts and shorts during tennis practice, which is daily, and is always always always smooth. She has an addiction that if there is one sign of a hair on her calves she’ll shave it right off. Finally ending with her feet, which are perpetually small and painted always with a French tip, this is how Anne is. She’s defiance of pride, fundamentals and serendipity, something unexpected.
History: Quebec, as most know, is in Eastern Canada, and is the second largest province in Canada. Where the English speak was rare and it was mostly eloquent French words, the money flowed into the hands of Marius Lévesque, whom took the family’s name into the art gallery business. He was a stern man who always loved being crowned the next heir of the family’s fortune and fame. In a summary, they were representatives for many famous art galleries in Canada, Paris, Rome and some in the States. They would be called into the find certain pieces of art for the galleries, and in return would earn buckets of money every second counted. Some people in the family loved what they did, actually; every single member of the family did. Even though the Lévesque remained quite small, that was the way they liked it, and it kept their reputation sought out throughout the world of art and money. Marius was to be married to Romaine Laurent, a beautiful woman with a secret; she didn’t want her life. The Lévesque & Laurent families were always friends, and always were hoping for the day when their children would unite. The Laurent family owned a half of land in the lower-town in Quebec, which meant they controlled everyone’s poor lives down there while they lived the rich and glamorous ones. Romaine was always the oddball in the family, and didn’t like the idea of marrying Marius and having the wealth to control over the hungry and poor families in the neighboring towns. Yet, she was never that strong herself, so she married Marius at the age of eighteen, not having much of a choice. It was either that or she would have to face her family, and sometimes, that could be the hardest thing in the world. The marriage between Marius and Romaine wasn’t difficult like most, because right after the ceremony, Marius gave Romaine the keys to the manor and flew off in a jet plane to look for more art. He was addicted to his work, and that suited Romaine fine, because she despised him as a person. Her first days in the manor were luxury. She was quite a fan of writing and penciling in poetry that sung throughout of heart on the acres of lawns or beneath a big oak tree. She was kind, a belle, charming and loved the outdoors. The inside of the manor was beautiful, but it wasn’t what she would imagine herself actually spending more than two hours in.
It was tradition, of course, to conceive your first child as soon as after the marriage to stay young with the children. Marius and Romaine completed this transaction, but not with happiness. They worked, and they did the sweet talk, but they were far from love. Romaine was in a terrible state, and just wanted to find someone to love, someone to talk to. So, after finding that she was pregnant, the family secret began. Meet Luc Durand, the butler to the family and a very wise, suave man. He was the one that took Romaine to get the baby checked up on, and treated her with the utmost respect, unlike Marius. One night, Marius scolded her for smoking with the baby in the loom, and while she shouldn’t have smoked in the first place, which was turning into her own addiction, Luc was by her side. He consoled her, and told her how she should be treated so much better and how she should be having the perfect life. Two glasses of wine and one conversation later, she ended up falling in love with Luc, proving it by a passionate kiss by the fireside. It was everything she could have wanted, except for the part where she was already married. Days after she had kissed Luc, they were always close, and couldn’t take their eyes off of each other, and it was getting risky with Marius at home with phone calls or just resting. Then, a couple of months before Anne were to be born, and Romaine was quite pregnant at this point, Marius caught her with Luc. It was chaos, and even though Marius didn’t love Romaine enough to actually care as much as a husband should, he yelled at the two of them, made them on the verge of tears, fired Luc and had a private conversation inside the master bedroom with Anne. After that conversation, Anne was broken. She had lost the love of her life, she was trapped in a manor and had to pretend that their lives were perfect. Perfection was overrated at this point, but to the Lévesque family, it was a style of vintage. She attended banquets; spoke elegantly and never acted out of order like she had in the past. Then, Anne was born.
Anne was born on June 21, 1989, where the eighties were leaving the world and the Fresh Prince was rocking the television screens. She was born around 6:00 PM on that early summer night Hôtel-Dieu Hospital, which had bore ever Laurent and Lévesque known to man since the 1800’s. Romaine was overjoyed at the birth of her only child, her only daughter Anne. Marius had made it just in time to watch the birth and was flustered. Here was this cold hearted man, being broken by all the love that filled the room of his new daughter. It was his job to make sure she turned into the best he could make her, and with that final note posted in his memory log, he left to Paris for a conference, which would make his career. Not like he needed more money anyways. A couple of days after the birth, Romaine took Anne to the manor, and from all the check ups, Anne was perfectly healthy. The manor was what contaminated the baby. For some reason, Anne couldn’t stand being in the manor, and would cry consistently. No one knew why, except Romaine. Romaine had always believed that babies were wise beyond speculation, and could sense when there was sadness in a home, or a dark past of secrets. To the local eyes, Anne had turned from Belle in Beauty of the Beast to Cruella Deville. Yet; only Anne would see that Romaine was still that helpless teenager forced by family tradition into a life she didn’t want. This is when Anne recalled that memory of her mother crying of happiness to have someone to confide in, which only lasted until Anne hit the double digits, and would actually understand. Anne doesn’t remember anything that Romaine has told her as a baby, and Romaine is still contemplating to keep it that way. Marius treated his daughter like a prize, but also like a training horse. While Romaine turned into a strict mother when it was time for Anne to learn the family ways, like how to present herself to the public and speak both English and French fluently, Marius taught her other things; how to win. He always mentioned how, “the fight isn’t over until you get what you want”. Apparently, it was what all fathers told their children when they reached ten and older. Anne wasn’t having fun, unlike her cousins from her dad’s sibling’s children and mother’s. Her cousins always thought of her as the weird one in the family, who didn’t want what her destiny held. She had learned a great hobby; photography. She took pictures of everything strange & beautiful, which encircled her whole life. Still, she got bored easily of the manor and trying to be perfection, so that’s when she looked for a new home to rest in, a boarding school. Everywhere, she looked for a random, far away school from Quebec, and nearing the end of her eighth grade career, she proposed to go to Valkyrie Academy. Her father was angry, and bewildered. Never had a Lévesque ever ran away from where they should be. He was a cunning man, and also thought of this as a challenge. He knew she wouldn’t survive without her afternoon tea and personal studies with the tutors, so he let her go, without her mother’s consent. Now, her main goal is to find a way to break the angry family cycle.
Flaws: Oh there are plenty of flaws that belong to Anne. From the starting of her untameable hair to her itchy legs; the list goes on, but yet she won't show it. She never exactly knows how to styler her hair, and rarely does it tend to cooperate with her, which can drive a girl crazy. When she was younger, she has planted a scar near her temple from trying to find out what lay inside a golf ball, by throwing it at a fence, yet it rebounded back and hit her in the head, leaving an indented scar. She does not know how to handle mascara, and rarely ever handles with it by herself, unless she plans on making a mess. On long nights, or just waking up on the wrong side of the bed, her eyes easily get puffy & baggy. It's something she's grown to learn and live with. Her legs get itchy easily, so she scratches them consistantly and hides the scratch marks with lotion.
Living Situation: The Lévesque estate was gorgeous. Although it lays very far away from the social parties, it's near a large group of mountains with a guarded, golden gate with painted angels imprinted on the fronts. The long driveway spirals through a thick patch of rose colored leafs hanging off the trees, and then you enter the very Perisian styled mansion with amazing designing and architecture, along with arches & mini balconies that graze the sky. Quite the change to going to a dorm, now isn't it?
Roleplaying Example: From Hartwell Academy
The lights illuminated the Dining Hall to perfection, and the marble floors were glistening with polished shine. Still, it did the very least at impressing Sebastian. Striding through the corridors after sending his little sister to fetch his books, what a sweet heart, he had opened the door to the Dining Hall. Alright, so he had lied about the Heads and Prefects having their shining moment at the Head table, but he knew his stubborn little sister wouldn’t do it without reasoning. It was always about reasoning with her, and sometimes you just had to lie. Of course, she’d get over it quickly, considering they were much too close and mature to fight about a white lie. Walking to a table filled with different assortments of students, girls and boys, in which some were practicing their talents, he seated himself at the far end. He thought that socializing with a bunch of nitwits wouldn’t satisfy him any more than a raw piece of meat left in a box for ten years. The whole lot of them was always lifting spoons with their minds, dripping water from their fingertips and blowing fire from their mouths like dragons. At this point, he was wishing his sister was here, so they could mock all the giddy students who thought of themselves as adorable or cool. Disgusting was his perception of it.
Sebastian lifted his water goblet, which was already filled centimeters away from the rim, and cleaned the top with the bottom of his finger. Everything besides home and his part of the dorm was so murky and never washed properly, so he was constantly swiping off the dirt from everything he could find. Glaring at several girls who tried to eye flirt with them, and slowly scaring them half to death, he took a slow, solid sip of the water, which seemed almost as horrifying as the goblet itself. He had a severely full stomach, probably from the full lunch he had ate seven hours ago, and still questioned himself of why he was sitting here in the first place. If only there were some spirits to talk to, something that could bring havoc among these annoying youngsters. Yet again, there were barely any evil, dead souls in the Dining Hall, so he was always resorting to talking to them in the dungeons or towers. As he picked up his goblet again, he felt someone nudge his elbow as he placed the goblet back down and sent a menacing glare at the person. Oh, wait till he got fired up. Simply a lowlife of a person touching him was brutal, but those people… nudging him sent him askew.
