Post by Charlotte Davies on Jun 17, 2007 17:53:24 GMT -5
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Name:
Charlotte [Char] Anna Davies
Age and Birthday:[/color]
16 {Junior} // June 25th
Parents' Names, Occupations, and Ages:[/color]
{Mother} Anne Cohen Davies - 45 - Artist
{Father} Mark Davies - Deceased at 42 - Former Businessman
Siblings and Ages:[/color]
{Brother} Richard Christopher Davies - 13
Pet(s):[/color]
None
Location of Home{Homes}:[/color]
Formerly lived in a mid-sized home in Suffolk County, has since moved to an apartment in Corona.
Financial Status:[/color]
Charlotte's father had been planning to send her to Constance before he died in the attacks on the World Trade Center [he was an accountant working on the 72nd floor]. After his death, the family came on hard times, with Char's mother's art not selling much, they had to move out of their house in Suffolk County, and to an apartment in Queens. But, the school took pity on the family, and offered a scholarship to Charlotte, and although Charlotte protested going to school with all the snobs, her mother made her go.
GPA [grade-point average]:[/color]
Wavers between 3.7 and 3.9
Personality:[/color]
Since her father's death, Charlotte has largely closed up, but she's still very much the flower child she's always been. She's a vegetarian and could spend hours wandering Central Park alone. She is very shy, and is always lost in thought. She has funneled most of her energy into theatre, a pursuit that she and her father always enjoyed together. He would often take her to Broadway shows as a child. When she's acting is the only time she'll let real emotions escape her locked soul. She's very passionate about her music, she loves to play her antique upright piano, as well as singing in a lilting Soprano tone.
She's slow to trust, but quick to love. She can't suppress her ability to love, however much she tries.
Hobbies:[/color]
- Thinking
- Acting
- Singing
- Playing Piano
- Reading
- Photography
- Exploring Central Park
Appearance, Photo, and Celeb:[/color]
Char is one of those girls whom you don't notice is beautiful until you really look at her. She has brown hair tinged with red, a product of her father's Irish blood. Her eyes are as blue as the Great South Bay, her nose is long and thin, and her teeth a bit crooked, as her mom let her opt out of braces. She's of average height, standing at 5' 4" and she's not fat, nor skinny.
Deadly Ailments:[/color]
None.
History:[/color]
Charlotte was born at Good Samaritan Hospital, on June 25th, 1990. She grew up in Port Jefferson. Her father commuted to work everyday as an accountant with Cantor Fitzgerald in the World Trade Center, her mother was an artist and stay-at-home mom to Char and Ricky. Mark loved to take his children into the city, they saw all the great shows, and visited the museums. She was in sixth grade the day it happened. The fifth day of school for the year, when suddenly the world was flung into chaos.
Char had watched the repeated videos over and over that day, glued to the screen. Her eleven-year-old eyes digging through the crowds for a sight of her father. That moment never came. They never found his body. Charlotte had never even cried about it, not even at his service, her wide-blue eyes had just stared ahead, frightened as a deer in the headlights.
She had gone back to school three days later, a changed soul. She was shyer now, quiet, but it didn't stop her passion for the performin arts. She went through junior high, leading the choir and taking the lead in the school play.
At fourteen, she entered Constance Billard, and to every girl's horror, Charlotte, a shy freshman, stole the lead in the musical. She was still shy, but when she mounted the stage, everyone can see that she commands the stage.
Sample Role-Play:[/color]
[[As Bella Fiore, hope that's alright.]]
The flickering, dying torches in their engraved holders cast eerie shadows along the stone walls. Even eerier was the faint outline of Bella as she tiptoed down the deserted hallway. It was just a bit after two in the morning by the clocktower's bells and for the past three hours Bella Fiore had lain awake in her curtained bed, staring mindlessly at the ceiling, tracing the cracks with her eyes and casing up the folds in her bed curtains. It had been like this for the past week, her inability to fall asleep. Perhaps she had developed insomnia. Or maybe it was the mere worry that there would be hitches in her plan with Lilli for the opening night cabaret that would take place in the new auditorium. Sure, it was exciting, but for someone who had never organized a show before, it was quite nerve-wracking. So there she had lain, sighing into the deep hours of the night, wishing her iPod worked on Beauxbatons grounds so she could pop it in her ears and block out Lilli's snores. But no, god forbid magic work in her favor.
This was the way in which she had found herself tiptoing barefoot down the hallways, her feet freezing on the flagstone. She had not thought it would be this cold, considering it was April, but she had been mistaken. The white nightgown that made her appear ethereal was most definitely not enough insulation for her thin frame. She thought for a moment how odd one would think her if they saw her ghostly form in the hallway, her long mane of dark curls about her shoulders and her wide, brown, doe's eyes. She was almost positive she'd be scared of herself if she suddenly happened upon a mirror.
Bella was exploring, a favorite pastime of hers, when books ran out and she was tired of singing and playing her used upright piano, she explored and imagined. She had quite the wildest imagination of all of Beauxbatons' students. Rainy days became visits to the Amazon, boring afternoons were tea parties with Queen Elizabeth herself. Bella held her English queen, the namesake of her middle name, in high esteem. She rather fancied herself lunching with the Queen at Buckingham Palace one day, the having the queen sit in a reserved box for Bella performing in the Phantom of the Opera that very night.
Yes, Bella had wild dreams that for their while distracted her from the ever-darkening hall about her. She wasn't afraid of the dark exactly, but rather the idea of what might be lurking in the dark. Perhaps she had seen too many movies.
She pushed slightly on the first door to her left. It didn't budge an inch. She pushed harder and it still didn't move. Without thinking, Bella reached for her wand to whisper the Alohomora charm, before realizing her nightgown didn't have pockets and she was wandless. Not exactly the brightest thing she had ever done. She'd try to get to a room fast as she could, she decided. Bella didn't really want Cossu to lose points for her being out at night, she was angling for another house cup win.
A faint golden glow glimmered from the last door down the corridor on the right. Bella made a hasty turn into the room and shut the door behind her, her nerves piqued by a sudden scurry in the hall. Withing the safety of the room, she realized it could have only been a rat. She had rushed into the room so quickly that she hadn't taken notice of what it was that was producing the golden glow. Now it was clear.
At the opposite end of the room stood a tall mirror. Strange symbols were carved along the outside, surely some ancient language. The glow seemed to be emulating from the mirror itself. There was no light, but rather something inside it was shining. From this distance, Bella could not see her reflection, but she was sure it was there.
She took a carefully measured step towards it, torn between eagerness to see what was lighting the mirror and fear of what was lighting the mirror. A few more steps situated her close enough to see her reflection and the source of the light.
There she was, reflected in the mirror, but it wasn't her.
She placed her hand on the surface of the glass. It was clear as water and seemed to melt beneath her touch. It was certainly not like any glass she had ever felt before. Elven made perhaps...? She took another glance at the symbols. She was really quite rubbish with most foreign languages. Italian and English were the only two she was fluent in, her French was a bit spotty, and she had picked up a few words of Gaelic, but she knew nothing of the ancient magical languages, though she thought it'd be rather romantic to speak in the elven tongues. She ran her fingers through one of the carvings. It seemed vaguely familiar, but rumor had it that the English alphabet was derived from elvish.
Her brown eyes found there way back to the center of the glass, they had been distracted by the characters. Getting a better look at the image in the mirror, she suddenly felt like Alice, Through the Looking Glass. She was not wearing the white nightgown anymore but rather a ballgown that Bella would have recognized anywhere. Her thoughts wandered back to the that time, years ago. When she had first become enchanted by the art of theatre. She had gone to a matinee performance of the Phantom of the Opera, her father in the title role. She had been thoroughly enchanted by the show itself, but the real magic had been afterwards, when the cast and crew had gone home, all the lights had been turned down at Her Majesty's Theatre. Only the ghost light had been left burning and Bella's father had taken her to center stage and the pair had waltzed about, Antonio still wearing the famous mask, little Bella with a flower tucked behind her ear. He had swung her about her legs twirling in the air, swooshing over the candlesticks that lined the "Phantom's Lair."
That was where she was now. Or at least the mirror showed her that. She was dressed in Christine's "Masquerade" ballgown. The odd glow was none other than the glow of the lights that pointed to where Bella was standing, at center stage. She had often dreamed of standing in this very spot when an audience was present, and Bella could feel herself longing to burst into "Think of Me."
But a sound behind her interrupted her swirling thoughts.
"Désolé."
She wasn't exactly sure what it meant. She thought it meant something along the lines of "grief." Her French was far from fluent, oft she had to use a French-English dictionary to complete her homework assignments. On the other hand, her younger brother, Tonino, had picked it very quickly, while Marcello, her older brother, stubborn that he was, had outright refused to learn. Though he had begun to, as a means to impress the girl he liked. Marcello would do absolutely anything to achieve his means.
She had let her thoughts wander again. Away from the reason why a person might be standing behind her uttering words she didn't know.
Answer to Question:[/color]
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Other:[/color]
Not currently.
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