Post by camillemrochester on Apr 6, 2011 20:56:40 GMT -7
CAMILLE MARIE ROCHESTER
"If you could only see, the beast you've made of me.
I've held it in but now it seems you've set it running free."
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I AM BEYOND GOD
[/font]I AM HUMAN
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Full Name: Camille Marie Rochester
Nickname(s): Cam, sometimes Cammy
Gender: Female
Age: Seventeen
Birthdate: January 1, 1994
Sexuality: Straight
Reincarnate: Yes
I am: Cassandra (Daughter of King Priam and Queen Hecuba of Troy)
Played By: Alexis Bledel
Grade: Junior
Boarding: Lives at School
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OUR SHINING FUTURE
[/font]IN REVOLT
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Height: Five feet and seven inches
Weight: 122 pounds
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Brunette
Build: Skinny
Scars: None
Piercings/Tattoos: Just her ear lobes, which are double pierced.
Personal Style: Camille has never been one to stalk fashion; she figures what’s hot now won’t last long. She prefers the classics, and favors a Parisian or London style of dress. Her basics are neutral in tone, ranging from white, camel, grey, and black. It’s the accessories, and confidence that truly count. Camille adores dresses, usually in an airy and breathing material. Shoes, well, she could go without those; high heels hurt her feet, so she usually wears flats if she wears shoes at all. Camille does love the style of the Twenties and 1960s though. The styles hang well on her, and accentuate her small waist. She varies between refined and ruffian, and that’s just the way she likes it.
Appearance: She has been told, the she possess a certain beauty; as her father would say, “It’s the stuff the Romantics wished to create and behold!” At that remark, Camille blushes and turns away. She knows that she is incredibly fortunate; her striking blue eyes can stop a man in the streets, while her delicate features can spark envy into the hearts of women. But sometimes, Camille feels that her appearance can hold her back. Oh, yes it has its merits; but no one attempts to see past the façade of skin and bones.
Camille wants to be seen for her soul, not as another pretty girl. Not that she hates the way she looks, no. It’s just that, Camille is shy and most people just take her for face value, and not on the strength of her character. She’s thin and pretty, perfect to be photographed, painted, taught choreography, playing the ingénue, and coached in the art of voice. A perfect doll, to be dressed up and played with; that is, unless Camille can help it.
HOPE AND HORROR
[/font]MIXED IN BLOOD[/size][/center]
Likes: Cats, dogs, history, roller blading, oil paints, charcoal, sketching, reading, Chai tea, spring days, and French culture.
Dislikes: Ice Storms, the smell of coins, wearing socks, painting in watercolors, math, TV commercials, too much make-up, being cold, football, and CSI.
Dreams: To live abroad and possibly teach or even paint for a living.
Fears: Her nightmares, her “Visions”, and possibly reliving her past life.
Habits/Hobbies: Doesn’t make eye contact when shy or nervous, and she bites her lower lip when in thought. Camille loves to read and paint; those are two things she could easily do all day.
Secret(s): Hiding the truth about her “Visions” and reincarnation. No one believed her in Troy, why would they here?
Personality: Camille tries to be a kind person, overall. She values honesty, loyalty, goodness, and a level head. She’s a bit scatterbrained and prone to daydreaming, in her head too much; and she does tend to overthink things. Not that she really minds, it’s nice to have a break from the monotony. Expect when it’s a “Vision,” when those occur, Camille is shaky and nervous for a couple days. She’s trying to digest and store the new information for future comprehension. Usually she passes her jumpiness off with, “Oh, I’m just tired.”
But Camille adores her friends; she’s loyal to the core and at-the-ready to defend them when called for. She does this out of love, and in the hopes that they would do the same for her. She knows what it feels like to be the outsider, the one no one believes; that’s a fate she wouldn’t wish on her worse enemy.
Around the opposite sex… Camille is a shell of herself. She gets shy, and tries to fade into the back ground; her appearance never lets that happen though. She’s attractive, Camille understands that; but it doesn’t change the fact that as Cassandra, she was brutally raped. It’s upsetting and painful, both mentally and physically to remember. To men, she appears cold and uncaring. It’s just the opposite of how she truly is… Camille just needs everything to slow down so she can think through her next step. Above all, she wants a loving relationship with a man; someone who can show her the kind of love she never received as Cassandra, someone who will be patient and kind to her; cherish her. Maybe she’d just too much of a romantic after all.
PRETTY BOY, PRETTY GIRL
[/font]PRETTY INSANE[/size][/center]
Mother: Olivia, 46, Librarian
Father: Daniel, 48, Museum Curator
Siblings: None
Other: None
Pets: None
Hometown: Strasbourg, France
History: When she was born, her parents said it was on the most beautiful and warm day in January. She was loved by her parents and raised in a beautiful city with kind people. She was three when she first saw a flash of light and was then transported to a beautiful city with a grand floor, littered with men and women wrapped in fabric, and an older man with white hair was smiling at her; it was her first “Vision.” These events kept happening, and it was only after deep thought and research that Camille began to think herself a bit, well… Odd.
As she grew up, Camille tried to live out a normal childhood. She went to school, made friends, and developed a talent and love for art. She went to the library whenever possible and read a few psychology books, determined to find her ailment. Except, she couldn’t and she wouldn’t dare tell her parents; as loving and wonderful as they were, this was Camille’s battle to fight. And that is how she viewed it, her “Visions” were weapons used against her in the battle for her sanity.
It was only through her required history courses that Camille began to discover what her “Visions” meant. And when she did, well, she had a bit of a breakdown and that’s when the worst of it came. She was alone, her parents were out at an event for the museum, and a typical Spring rain storm was upon her. Camille was in the study, looking out the window when it happened; the white flashes began and she had a stifling headache. She laid down on the settee and closed her eyes; the city was burning, Camille could smell the heat and feel the flames lapping at the naked feet.
She broke out into a run, leaving the palace in flames; but before she could, Paris, her brother, touched her arm, “I’m sorry,” he huffed, sweat building on his brow, “Cassandra, we should have listened to you! All of this,” he gestured with his bow to the palace; “This chaos and death could have been avoided.” Camille nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks and wrapped her arms around her brother, “You couldn’t have known Paris, it’s not your fault.” The last she ever saw of her brother, was him running to the outskirts of the pavilion, he turned back and smiled. She continued on, up the hills to the temple.It was sought to seek refuge from the fire and carnage of what once was her beautiful city. Going to that temple, Athena’s temple would be the worst mistake she ever made.
When the Rochesters returned, they found their daughter weeping, horrible wracking sobs. Concerned, they suggested a convalescence and change of location. How they knew of Riverdale, or why they chose to move there was never explained to Camille. Now, a transfer student and Junior at the school, Camille has heard about the ROSR, but tries to steer clear of it. She’s careful with her “Visions” now, so different from her past life; she’s played the game before, she knows the rules.
I AM WHO I AM
[/font]WHO AM I?[/size][/center]
Name/Alias: ccals
Other Characters: None yet.
Age: 19
Time Zone: Central
Post Sample:
Jocelyn stumbled, leaning on the doorway before entering her bathroom. Sweeping a quick hand through her bleached, nearly white, blonde hair she took another step forward. The lights flickered and distorted her reflection in the mirror. Brahms, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, Romeo and Juliet, just a few of the hundreds scribbled on her mirror. These titles ran rampant across the silver plane creating an arch, reminiscent of a cathedral’s, just around her figure.
The brass button of her jeans glimmered under her thumb as she stretched the denim across her hips. Shimmying out of her jeans, Jocelyn rummaged in her back pocket for her phone. Grasping it between her slender fingers, it lit up. A tiny burst of light in the abyss. She finally caught a glimpse of her reflection, Who is that? Pale and thin, glittering green eyes on a slender face. A red painted mouth, kohl chalked eyes, with a severe bun. A dancer, nay, a performer. The phone rested between fingers now, a fairy light.
Jeans kicked to the corner, Jocelyn dropped her black boots before turning on the shower. The black leotard soon came off as well, landing in the corner. She placed a hesitant hand on a drawer, pausing before pulling in open. Grabbing a black leather bag, Jocelyn unzipped it and stuck two fingers in. with a heavy sigh, she revealed a syringe. She twirled it before snapping the needle into place. Snatching the elastic holding back her hair, Jocelyn wrapped the fabric taut around her upper thigh. It was all cued up, the syringe was poised in her hand, and a light steam was floating around the room. Leaning her back against the wall she shut he eyes, easing the needle through her skin.
As the fluid worked itself into her bloodstream, Jocelyn eased herself into the shower. The water was scalding, cascading and breaking off her ivory skin. She popped the cap off of her soap and lathered it onto her tiny body. Jocelyn scrubbed and scrubbed, her nails furiously scraping against her skin. The drops continued to pound on her flesh, and the release she so longed for couldn’t come quickly enough. Jocelyn stopped herself and moved onto soaping up her hair, No matter how hard I try, I won’t ever be clean enough.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
application format by dante/dante in ze pot. lyrics from 'wreak havoc' by angelspit. nothing will chase you down if you remove the credits, but i'd rather you not. that is all.
