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Post by Crush on Nov 22, 2011 12:15:30 GMT -5
ALICE GENEVIEVE MOREL x x x
name, Alice Genevieve Morel
gender, Female
animal, Horse
age, Nineteen
birthday, January Third
year, Senior
orientation, Heterosexual
height, Five foot six inches
weight, One hundred twenty two pounds
hair, Long, black with a slight curl.
eyes, Light blue-gray, almost white even.
generally, Feminine, thin, delicate.
Alice is undeniably feminine. She's thin and delicate with a rather defined bone structure. Her skin is pale, so pale it could be assumed she rarely ventures into the sun. This isn't quite the truth, though she doesn't like the bright sun much anyway. Her eyes are a light blue, and the black of her eyelashes automatically accent them and make them stand out more, though she often exaggerates this effect with a thin line of black eyeliner. Her hair is dark and black, not that almost-black-but-actually-brown shade that a lot of people end up with. He facial features are distinct, with high cheekbones and a small nose, making her appear completely refined and her accent assists that image.
Her clothing style varies, though it often consists of paler colors, particularly blues and greens, that are accented with darker shades. Her shirts form to her body, always, and are often t shirts or spaghetti strapped tank tops. In the colder weather, she'll wear long sleeved shirts that flair extensively at the end of the sleeves. Jeans are a particular favorite, though she'd happily settle for a pair of sweatpants on the days she finds herself ill. She's often got some sort of necklace on, provided she isn't in cove ops or p&e, and it's always a silver chain, though the pendent varies depending on the day.
when shifted, Muscular, sturdy
For all her femininity in human form, Alice is actually quite powerfully built in equine form. Of course, this is only to be expected, since she takes the form of the ancient, graceful Andalusian breed. Her coat is dappled gray, a contrast of light gray and steely silver. Her mane and tail are equally dark, with a few silver strands scattered in it. Her fur fades to black on her legs. She has a stripe of black along her back - a dorsal stripe, like a dun would have. Her eyes, shockingly, do not stay blue like most would - instead, they change to a dark brown, nearly black.
likes, Roses(particularly white ones), chocolate, good wine, romantic gestures, a good book, languages, shopping, motorcycles(though she's never admit it), the idea of traveling the world, France, watching lightning storms, dancing in the rain
dislikes, The cold, constant sun, girls who put on too much makeup, guys who think they're all that (typically, though it's more how they act then the belief itself), dance clubs and bars, being interrupted while reading a decent book, people who try to soften a blow through lies
strengths, Compassionate, good with languages, composed in most situations, determined
weaknesses, Particularly proud, tries to see the best in everyone even when she knows better, lost in fantasy on occasion
habits, Tends to hang out in the library, daydreaming and reading.
secrets, She's always wanted to ride on the back of a motorcycle with some guy she hardly knows, but, knowing her parents would disapprove, she has turned down the one chance she's had to do so, and regrets it most every day. Her tattoo is also kept a secret from her parents, though not so much from everyone else. She fears relapsing as well [see history].
traits, Hopeless romantic, perfectionist, proper, refined, secretly rebellious, stubborn, determined, quiet, soft spoken, opinionatedAlice is a bit of a hopeless romantic. In her head, she pictures the perfect prince charming coming to sweep her off her feet and its made her rather impossible to charm if you don't fit the part, at least a little. Many have tried each summer when she returns to France or London to live with one or her parents, but they have all failed. She's easily embarrassed when it comes to matters of the heart, and rarely admits to much, often preferring to run rather than sort it out. Part of this comes from an inner conflict to rebel, her motorcycle with a stranger fantasy, or to conform, a prince on a white horse. How much of this is outside pressure from her mother is undetermined, though likely to be much of the issue as she often lets go a little more when she's been away from the woman long enough.
She's proper and refined on all occasions, unless you manage, somehow, to get her flustered, which isn't an easy task. She's been well socialized among the well-to-do, and was born into a wealthy family, so she's used to getting things her way, and often expects it despite much evidence that things will often be to the contrary. She does, however, have a slight wild streak which possessed her to get a tattoo on her ankle, though she still persistently covers it up which ridiculous amounts of cover up when she visits home. She's terribly determined, which is useful in some cases, but not always. There have been many an occasion when her stubbornness has cost her, and she hasn't always learned from these mistakes.
She's a bit on the quiet side, though that's not to say she won't speak her mind. She simply prefers to sit alone, on a windowsill in the library, curled up with a cup of hot cocoa and good book - fantasy, of course. However if you were to talk to her and happen to bring up a topic she was impassioned about or insult her, you'll surely never hear the end of it. She isn't likely to raise her voice, just rant on and on and she's been known to belittle many and make geniuses feel like idiots, given the right occasion.
mother, Adrien Morel, forty one, living in Paris, France
father, Marianne Jordan, thirty seven, living in London, England
siblings, None
lovers, None
others, Nicholas Smith, deceased, first love
pets, Chocolat, siamese, six, in Paris with her father
story, Frightening, conflicted, many happy moments though
It was a whirlwind romance, really. Marianne was traveling for a year before heading to university, just spending time with friends, and visiting the wonderful city of Paris, France. It was there she ran into Adrien, the man who left her speechless. It was love at first sight, and, young and naive, they thought it would last. They were married within three months. It was then the bickering began. He had money, she didn't have to go to school. She wanted to, but he didn't want her leaving. Things went on like this, but eventually both caved. They made up. It was that night that little Alice was conceived.
Marianne was a week away from starting her post-secondary education when she began to suspect that she was pregnant, and it was quickly confirmed. Her school plans were put on hold yet again, but this left her bitter. By the time Alice was born, the hormones not helping matters, the couple had signed divorce papers and Marianne moved back to London a few short weeks later. Heartbroken, disappointed, and with a newborn baby in her arms, she showed her face back at home. Her parents practically disowned her at that, but her grandmother took her in. Of course, Adrien hadn't left her dry. He'd given her quite a bit of his money, making her rather wealthy herself. However, she refused to touch it, if only to spite him, not that he'd know. He visited Alice often, though Marianne made sure to never be there. Her mother's hatred of her father was directed towards Alice often enough that the young girl grew to dislike her mother from an early age, sticking to her great-grandmother's side. When she started school, she was placed into a private school with the money her father had given Marianne, and then in the summers she lived with him.
Those summers were the happiest times of her life. She loved France, every bit of it. As a young child, she lived for the walks to the park and the french lessons her father paid for. As she got older, she would spend hours just wandering the streets, just listening and learning and taking in everything she could, soaking it up like a sponge. Until her great-grandmother passed away, she often felt torn between her love of Paris, which held her beloved father, and her love for her great-grandmother and the side of London that only that one old lady could help her to see. It was perhaps the only thing she liked of London, but the accent followed her all her life and continues to do so as a result from spending much of her life there.
Of course, as a child, she was sick often. Shortly after grade eight, she was found to have cancer - a relatively treatable form, mind you, but it still took a toll on her and her family. It took a long time, much of which she spent out of school, too ill to do well and refusing to even try if she knew her grades would suffer. She met her Prince Charming then, another patient, just a year older than her. They grew close, but every day as she got better, his condition worsened. She's never quite recovered from when he died, even though it only made her fight harder. She got better, after two long years of fighting, and has never relapsed thus far. It's still a fear that lingers in her mind to this day. Still, she went back to school with a vengeance, earning straight A's, which hasn't stopped since.
When she neared the time to apply for high school, her father begged and pleaded for her to go to a boarding school, although it was on her behalf. He knew she was unhappy with her mother, even if Marianne couldn't see it. With some coaxing, Marianne agreed that it would benefit Alice, and Alice quickly began doing research. She wanted out of the country, to see some place new. Innovation seemed inviting, and she liked the name. That had always been a thing with her, names. She was choosy about them, and often would look at something more closely or ignore it altogether because of its name. Her marks were stellar, and still, she noticed their hesitance to take her. A physical exam was required, they said. She agreed to take it, and she was never more confused than when they started. It made sense mere hours later when she shifted for the first time, solely out of duress from the test itself, designed to do just that. She accepted immediately, alongside an explanation.
Despite the fact it changed everything, she was overjoyed. That summer, her and her father spent their days shopping, getting her a whole new wardrobe, school supplies, a laptop, everything. And she loved every minute she was at Innovation, and has been there each and every year, even though she is two years older than everyone else there. She doesn't care - not like they know without her telling them anyway.
name, Crush
experience, Eight to nine years
other characters, None
read the rules, Helped write them, and made up the codeword
example post, Alexandria "Ace" Kerry from Dangerous, a spy school roleplay
A soft pounding on the ground, drowned out by the rhythmic splashes, alerted anyone nearby to her presence. That was perhaps the main issue this time of year, she found. The unpredictable weather. Usually, it wasn't too bad, but today, apparently, it had been bound to rain on her parade, excusing the pun. It had been so wonderfully bright and sunny, and she'd been done for the day, so she'd gone to her main refuge - The stable. She'd taken a nice, long hour cleaning Imp up so his coat shone and there wasn't a single tangle in his mane, tail or forelock. Then, she'd tacked him up, climbed up into the saddle and gone to skim the edges of the forest, where it was safe to ride without running into traps.
She'd been out for about a half hour before the rain had started, and she'd very quickly pushed the gelding into a canter. Not too fast, she didn't want him to slip. He was, after all, unshod. Without horseshoes and corks, he had very little to dig into the ground with. He was sure-footed, yes, but it was better to be safe and soaked than it was to be hurt, laying in the middle of a rainstorm and soaked anyway. Still, she was on her way back as fast as she could be when the terrible voice screeched out and she literally winced. Clearly she wasn't the only one caught in the rain. And the singing was getting louder. Apparently she'd have to pass him. With a roll of her eyes, she leg yielded the gelding over, slowing him to a trot as the hooves hit the stone floor in front of the pavilion, ringing loud and true as she drew closer. Imp was a large horse. She may push people away, but she wasn't entirely cold-hearted. She'd offer him a ride back to the barn. There were towels and horse blankets there to dry off with, and the rain wasn't entirely warm either.
She kept Imp trotting, forward pace as always, until she was within a few feet from him, noticing he'd found a place to hide out that was dry. But she was here now, so she figured she may as well offer. She certainly wasn't going to duck inside with him, that would leave Imp out in the open, and she was far more fond of her horse than she was sharing a small space with someone she merely recognized from classes. "Merely recognized", of course, because she kept to herself to such a degree that she was familiar with faces, oftentimes even names, but she never socialized much. She sighed as she looked down, soaked to the bone already, as he appeared to be, and not particularly enjoying it as the wind combined with the rain nearly caused her to shiver. She didn't let herself, though.
If you want to get to the barn, hurry up. I'd like to get there and dry off sooner rather than later.
She sounded annoyed, perhaps, but it was more at the weather, and it was more her word choice than her tone that reflected this. She tended to do that. Say things one way, but everything else contradicted those particular connotations. She slipped her foot out of the stirrup, just in case, so that he could use it to hoist himself up, holding out her hand to help pull him up. If he took the offer, anyway. If he didn't, she'd be off again, not needing the stirrup or both hands on the reins, so she wouldn't waste time fixing that to look proper.
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