Name:
Violet Isling.
Age:
16.
Gender:
Female.
Class:
Courtier [yet another]
Physical Description:
Let us start from the tip of the her head. Covered in white-blonde hair, it resembles almost ghost material. The hair is straight, almost perfectly so, and incredibly wispy. Usually the blonde is brushed back into a cascade of hair. There are no layers, but the shape around the face starts mid-ear and works its way down to the end of her hair, which rests around mid-back. Due to the pressure of heat and endless brushing the hair remains one, with only a few drifts of waving mass parting from the majority. The ends are cut in a curve; the hair sways when moved. This is an outstanding feature outlining her heart-shaped face.
In her face are two almond shaped eyes, with long eyelashes. Helped by her maid they swoop into a wondrous semi-circle, and the bottom curl in an equally obvious way. They are usually darkened because otherwise they are invisible against her pale skin; Violet is very pale. Her irises are coloured a very dark blue, stormy, they contrast her skin. Around the rim of her irises it appears they are melting; the colour blends evenly into the milky whiteness that rarely is punctuated by blood vessels.
Resting above these features are her eyebrows, which are very curved and give her a permanently surprised look. Her nose fights for an entrance between the eyes and climbing up to her brow attaches itself to her forehead. Her nose is small, but has a ski-jump look about it; Violet has found that all noses are either high like a ski jump, round like a button or drooping like an elephant. Her nose edges towards the ski jump variety with a little of the button in it; but on the whole swings majorly to neither side.
Her smile lines are not prominent as she prefers to ruminate rather than laugh or smile, something that may add to her looks to create a 'sad' effect. Her lips are small, like the rest of her features, and on the top lip they have a point not unlike a hawk beak as they rest in her lower lip. Her lips can be described as thin but they are rosy red, especially in the cold, and that contrasts the rest of her face.
Her cheekbones are high and show good breeding; beneath them unblemished cheeks and smooth and white. Her chin hides down the bottom in the point of the heart; and thankfully not so protruding that blackheads are found there. From her face you sweep down to her neck, which is so white her face looks tanned. Then, if it is possible, you go down further and the whiteness of her skin could be used in a lighthouse. Her collarbone is not very obvious but her neck is long and lean; it rests on her straight shoulders perfectly straight due to hours of training.
To accentuate that we go to her arms; they are soft and a few spots blemish them, especially just above the elbow. The whiteness under her arms matches the pale skin by her neck; it continues down her skinny arms until her wrists, where it abruptly becomes the same shade as her face, the same shade as the top of the length of her arms. Her fingers are spidery and no mistake; they are long and cold with nails that are filed to perfection. To break a nail would be to break her heart; but that is unlikely to happen, such good care is taken with them. Her hands are small for her arms but her knuckles are large, and seem fake on her spindly fingers.
Down past her bosom we reach her abdomen and stomach; they are both thankfully flat, because she could no more abide messy hair or a broken nail than to be fat. Her obsession is one of the few things that drives her out of her usual dreamy thoughts - her mother’s influence has worked its magic on her. We next reach her hips, which are boyish and straight, swooping down to join her legs which are short but very skinny. Her knees are knobbly because of the width of her legs, as are her ankles; it is quite unbecoming but there is nothing to be done about it
Her toenails are always clean, obsessed as she is about looks. She has high arches on her feet, which are small, so it is hard for her to find shoes that fit well. Violet is an ungainly feature to be sure; she has many odd features that contrast to the rest of her. She is not ugly, just different, and as Lady-like as it is possible to be.
Native Duchy:
Marcheford.
History:
The world was always in grey for her. Very little black, very little white, and all colours faded before her absent gaze. Even when she was a child she noticed this - the world lasted forever in her head, the days stretched to forever and nothing. She would watch the rain for hours, think of her friends rather than play with them, picture her own dreams instead of reading those of others.
She was born to an average family in Marcheford. They were nothing special, these people, only wasted beauty and forgotten hope - they lived for ritual, just to see another day, just because they could. There was little thought to inspire Violet, little musing to help her along her way, so she took to herself and fancied herself a new breed, a new race, a new beginning.
But even as her parents carried on listlessly, having a moment's worth of brightness as each child was born, a moment's despair as some were taken away - even as they lived as they could live, she was searching. She wanted something, something like a fairytale. She wanted to be remembered. It wasn't a thirst for power nor a desperate need to be known - she wanted her life to mean something, for it not to be a waste, so that one day she'd be more than just an old woman with children living their own lives.
She didn't want to live like her parents, be dull and musing. But even as she distinguished herself from them, her father died. He struggled to hold onto life. And Violet's ever-constant mind caught that, held that wonder in its grasp, that question - why? Why had he wanted to live? He had achieved nothing, been nothing, would only be remembered as a name. And in a hundred years, or two hundred, or a thousand, no one would know him. He would be a blur in the world.
But as always, real life extinguishes dreams. Her mother, frightened, was no longer living that dull existence. She began to change, to move, and Violet watched her warily. For while the girl wondered at the motions of people she didn't join them, didn't try to immerse herself in them. She watched from the sidelines and commented on what they were doing, thought about how they lived, and spent what should have been her childhood musing on the facts of life.
The other children were kept in school, cheap as it was, except her older sisters - they were shipped off to Court with Violet. But, being so different, they moved Duchies. Her sisters wanted to live, to be bold and vibrant and fun, to get caught up. They wanted to act like girls, to make a future. Violet stayed behind. She was too serene to move from her spot, too thoughtful to think of her own life, a dreamer's world spiraling around her and shielding her from view.
Parents:
Mary Sophia.
Thomas Richard. [deceased]
Siblings:
Elizabeth.
Anne.
Mary. [deceased]
Jack.
James. [deceased]
Rose.
Personality:
She doesn't often do things for herself and is more of a thinker than a mover - she is constantly thinking and dreaming, filling her head with pretty thoughts and little trails of imagination. She daydreams away most of her days and is prone to walking in the garden. She likes her ideas, but never shares them - people rarely understand. Indeed, it is one in a million that can follow her fancies, her mind that muses so slowly then changes tack at the speed of light.
Violet is naive still. She believes in fairytales and hope, that fate is there and the world is beautiful. She is very rarely negative. The only times she is negative she turns it into something lovely, a little saying that she can relate to her present state. Because of her innocence she is easily taken in and wooed; she believes that everything is for the best and that man is generally truthful. She contradicts the Bible itself that men are sinners; she believes the best of people.
But, being from Marcheford, she is intelligent. She can have lightning-fast conversation when she wishes, but finds it much easier to sit in dreamy solitude and think. Her favourite times are slow times, but every so often she is up for movement. Violet is adept at reading and writing, her knowledge is almost infallible, her thoughts burst with philosophy; but her social life is nearly nonexistent. She prefers her own company and the company of her mind.
She is also incapable of flirting in the average courtier way. Not that she finds it hard - she finds it too easy, and rather tiring. She constantly wonders how those people think, what is going on in their heads, and how they can believe themselves so beautiful. She'd love to be able to act so simply, like the women in romance novels, but she can never get herself to stoop to their level of mindless giggling. It disappoints her.
She is loyal and secretive (seeing as she has very few people to tell her secrets to) and although she doesn't do things as quickly as most of the Ladies around Court she isn't dull if you are her type. Many of the more enthusiastic people will find her thoughts boring and her attitude towards life tiresome, but if you act as she does and think in curves rather than straight lines, if you can have conversations of philosophy and art, you will get along famously with her.
Violet tries not to think negatively of other people. She does initially, but always tells herself off and tries to think of a compliment. She's the type of person who takes everything until a point, where she rants about it, then feels bad for weeks afterwards. She likes to think of herself as 'good', and is it; she'd never say something to deliberately hurt anyone. She doesn't control herself, exactly - but has trained herself to be so nice that nothing bad comes from her anyway.
Items:
- 1 sewing kit, for embroidery work
- A cream dress, light and loose, almost a shift - accompanied by a light corset and ruffled white underskirts.
- A darker dress, grey, off shoulder. Low cut and with slashings in the sleeves, worn with a corset and a hood.
- One nightdress; silk, light embroidery
- One light gold chain
- A pebble she found by the river. It was smooth and unblemished - she kept it. She calls it her 'way to the dreams' and always has it.
- A book of parchment, ink, and quill, with a little bit of sealing wax
- Hygienic effects: hair brush, pins (to hold the hair in place), a little bit of scent (perfume), etc.
- Embroider very well. She is average at singing, but doesn't really like to disrupt the silence too much.
- Drawing well. She likes to sketch sometimes, and has quite a hand for it.
- One maid.
- A cat. She finds birds too noisy and dogs too bold - her cat is old and wise, and mainly stays out of her way except during cold nights.
Roleplay Sample:
Expert Member
Group: Courtier
Posts: 178
Member No.: 89
Joined: 28-July 07
Cecily had been very disappointed when she'd figured out that Edmund wasn't going to be competing in the Tourney. Obviously he wouldn't, being as spineless and selfishly proud as he was, but she'd hoped... partly so she could see him, partly so she could watch him getting hurt. So far she'd only seen him get hurt three times - once by Francois and the other two very weak slaps on her part. She'd have liked to see him pummeled.
She ran her fingers lightly over the front of her dress. It was starting to show more, this awful bump of hers, and while she was quite fond of it she wished it would go away. There'd be no strings at all if this child wasn't around - she could seduce Edmund as much as she liked and Ewan wouldn't even be in view. Not even peripheral vision. Not even in chameleon vision.
She smiled a little and went to find Ewan. It wasn't so much for the romance of it all - standing in between sweaty men trying to gouge holes in each other's flesh wasn't exactly poetic - but so she could dispel all these rumours about her. That stupid girl in Harleston had told almost the whole Kingdom that she was pregnant, so she'd been in the spotlight for quite a while. At least, until those rumours came out about Ewan... if he disappointed her that was the end of him.
"Ewan," she called, spotting him in the crowd. No doubt he was thinking about some sort of planetary phenomenon - that or just being his depressing self. He'd been so much more interesting when cracking jokes for her, not to mention more attractive. Nowadays he looked pale and wan. She didn't - she was quite surprised about the glow she had from being with child. Maybe it was just the knowledge that she was secure. Or maybe, most likely, that she was loved.
EXCITING STUFF.
Other:
I is thinking it's Luce. Hey there :]]
SC rocks my socks.