Post by olivia on Feb 24, 2010 23:34:21 GMT
OliviaJaneHall
hello? it's me, juno ^^ here, remember? oh, okay. well. i'm 15 and i've been around this roleplay world for about 3 years. i stumbled about here thanks to through some site... with my friend(s) none .
SHE LIVES IN A FAIRYTALE
[/color] December 19th
full name Olivia Jane Hall
nicknames Liv
age 16
date of birth
year and house of preference 16 Slytherin
bloodline[/color] pure
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IT'S ALL ABOUT THE EXPOSURE THE LENS
[/color] 5 foot 10 inches
height
weight[/color] 150 lbs
hair colour[/color]Olivia is not one to fuss over each strand of hair and discover the best way to accentuate her features by experimenting in front of the mirror for countless hours to capture the perfect ‘do’. The dark locks are rather untamed and fall on their own accord past her shoulders, or are just as commonly held at bay in a simple ponytail with a rubber-band. When seeking a more refined look for the rare special occasion, Liv will take the care necessary to sculpt the fibers into something more presentable.
eye colour[/color]There is something unique about her grey irises, a trait assumedly passed down from her mother. She does not find the more unusual eye color reflected in others often and tends to speculate a distant blood relation when faced with her own self-proclaimed best feature in another. In her mind there is a deep connection to her mother in the orbs, an artificial bond that suffices in place of an actual knowledge of who the woman is.
skin tone[/color]Her skin is soft and marginally tan from the excessive time spent in the pitch.
play-by[/color] Olivia Wilde
There is a certain amount of fantasizing done on Olivia’s part of where her appearance derived from. She is not exceptionally similar to her father in categories that stem beyond hair color and skin tone. Her bone structure is pronounced, such extremes could not have derived from the rather bland features of Everette. In this sense, Olivia can be said to take after her mother, it is the only option that remains and the only one she cares to entertain the notion of.
Her skin is soft and marginally tan from the excessive time spent in the pitch, but layers over a squared jaw and convex cheek bones. Although she is not the most subtle of women with the schematics of her face, Olivia is (in the most abridged form) beautiful. The striking juxtaposition of a solid jaw line and full, soft lips is as much an enigma surrounding her genes as her persona.
Olivia’s wardrobe is entirely comprised of items that serve the purpose of covering her body while highlighting her own parental rebellion. She is a simple dresser and does not adventure beyond t-shirts, jeans, and leather jackets. Her minimalist style makes the concept of accessories out of the question, but pieces added to her frame out of necessity, such as scarves, are worn for their intended purpose.
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SENTENCE ME TO ANOTHER LIFE
[/color]Everette Hall
father
mother[/color]unknown
siblings[/color]none
spouses[/color]none
offspring[/color]none
other relations[/color]none
”Happy Christmas, you fuck.” Olivia spat at the letter on her desk that bore rings of moisture from the sweaty glass of scotch which had decided to use the piece of parchment as a makeshift coaster. She had no respect for the author, her father, that would encourage her to handle the penned holiday greeting with care. Christmas day was not far off and he had made his final attempt to have her running home via subtle threats and guilt-trips. There was the ultimatum: ’If I do not see you at the dinner that precedes all of our Christmas festivities then you can cancel any plans to return home altogether.’ A play at sympathy: ’It is embarrassing that my only child does not show face at the holiday ball. People are beginning to wonder what I have done to deserve such ill treatment.’
None of it worked. The only influence her father still had was driving her to push off the unpleasant mood the sheer mention of him brought upon through the best medicine. The uncomfortable desk chair provided by the school that drove many students to the common room to do their course work and take advantage of the more forgiving couches was pulled far from it’s home. Olivia leaned back on the rear two legs, the wood creaking at any shift in movement as her feet assisted with her balancing act from their place of rest on the desk top. Her hands created a head rest at the back of her skull as she considered the letter and the contents that were so expertly composed by a master of manipulative language. Had she been more in tune with the dwindling sense of guilt that veined through her subconscious it would have respond to the sometimes harsh, sometimes pleading words and had her abandoning any plans to head up to the Highlands to make room for a trip home instead.
She had thought herself passed any consideration for the man. He had destroyed her, and yet still there was something scratching at her to entertain the idea of family and try starting anew. No, things would be no different. People didn’t change for the better, she knew that, and it didn’t make sense for him to be any different. She retracted her legs and let the chair fall back onto all fours, standing once all feet had touched down.
Swiping up the glass of liquor, the letter clung to the bottom, refusing to let itself go ignored. She gazed through the amber liquid, the bottom of the glass magnifying a phrase of the note: ’my only child’. Her eyes narrowed, the reminder that she was of a close blood relation to such a man elicited a scoff. Olivia had his blood, but she would have no other part of him.
No number of empty threats or undeserved scoldings could have her giving up the opportunity of some much desired time with Heather for an awkward family reunion of sorts. Well, that was a lie. Had a letter of the same nature been authored by a more elegant hand, one that took care to flourish it’s capitals in a refined but not obnoxious way, Olivia would have been drawn in. At least she imagined that her mother would put as much care into the presentation of a letter. Perhaps if she ever cared to send her so much as a notice that she was alive- That wasn’t her fault, surely Olivia’s father was too responsible for this neglect. (tell me if it's a problem I used a past post to act as my history. ;D)
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IF GOD'S THE GAME THAT YOU'RE PLAYING
[/color] Yus!
is this app done?
A TIGER IS A TIGER NOT A LAMB MEIN HERR[/color]
roleplay sample
The La'Chance carriage pulled up outside his house and Demi climbed out. Nodding his thanks to the driver, he watched as the vehicle traveled back to the party. His eyes still stung, but he held back until he was in his own room, away from the prying eyes of others.
Climbing up the outer stairs, the door was opened by a servant, who bowed to him as he entered. Demi nodded and heard the door shut behind him as he went to the staircase in the center of the room. About halfway up, he heard his name being called. Turning around, he saw his mother standing behind him.
"Yes?" he asked a bit formally.
"Did you have a good time at the party?" she asked wistfully. His mother was wraith-like in her apperance. She was stick thin with sunkin in brown eyes and matted brown hair. She had been pretty once- still was, if she put her mind to it- but it was depressing to look at her in her current state.
"I did," he said, softening his voice just for her.
"That's nice," she answered in her same wistful tone, before moving off to a different part of the castle.
Even more depressed then before by this encounter, Demi trudged upstairs to his room. Ryan's door was shut and The Weird Sisters could be heard pounding from his room. Ignoring it, Demitri entered his own room and flopped down on his bed. The matteress sunk in, cacooning his body.
Grabbing a remote from the bedside table, he clicked a button. A sound system swang out from a hidden cubby-hole. It might be muggle, but it was his guilty pleasure. Besides, if Ryan could listen to that crap, his parents surely wouldn't mind Demi's type.
Pressing another button, a song came on that immediatly fitted Demi's mood. That was the magic part of this stereo. It chose a song that matched your mood.
Pain, without love, Pain, can't get enough, Pain, I like it rough because I'd rather feel pain then nothing at all...
Climbing up the outer stairs, the door was opened by a servant, who bowed to him as he entered. Demi nodded and heard the door shut behind him as he went to the staircase in the center of the room. About halfway up, he heard his name being called. Turning around, he saw his mother standing behind him.
"Yes?" he asked a bit formally.
"Did you have a good time at the party?" she asked wistfully. His mother was wraith-like in her apperance. She was stick thin with sunkin in brown eyes and matted brown hair. She had been pretty once- still was, if she put her mind to it- but it was depressing to look at her in her current state.
"I did," he said, softening his voice just for her.
"That's nice," she answered in her same wistful tone, before moving off to a different part of the castle.
Even more depressed then before by this encounter, Demi trudged upstairs to his room. Ryan's door was shut and The Weird Sisters could be heard pounding from his room. Ignoring it, Demitri entered his own room and flopped down on his bed. The matteress sunk in, cacooning his body.
Grabbing a remote from the bedside table, he clicked a button. A sound system swang out from a hidden cubby-hole. It might be muggle, but it was his guilty pleasure. Besides, if Ryan could listen to that crap, his parents surely wouldn't mind Demi's type.
Pressing another button, a song came on that immediatly fitted Demi's mood. That was the magic part of this stereo. It chose a song that matched your mood.
Pain, without love, Pain, can't get enough, Pain, I like it rough because I'd rather feel pain then nothing at all...
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turn it off in all my spite
credit to NERDS CAN ROCK for this app :] her
hard work went into it when she should have
been studying! shoosh! xP lyrics to paramore's
new album; brand new eyes![/font]
