Post by new123 on Jul 9, 2010 6:31:07 GMT -5
Hi, my name is Jessica and this is my first character. I found this site through an ad on a forum. Something you should know about me is I am absolutely in love with this site since I am studying to be an English teacher! XD.
Canon: Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing
Custom Title: A Bird Of My Tongue
PHYSICAL
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Beatrice is the type of woman who does not worry about looking perfect every single day. She is very much aware that to look perfect all the time would be an impossibility. Instead, when she knows the occasion requires it, she will put effort into her appearance and come out looking quite decent. However, if no one is to see her that day, she is more than comfortable lounging around her house in pajamas.
She has a deep love/hate relationship with exercising and working out. A vast majority of the women she comes in contact every day with are joined at some gym, constantly visiting the location in an effort to look like a stick. Though she does have a membership to a gym, Beatrice does not enjoy attending one little bit. In fact, she hates it because it's just too damn exhausting.But she goes nonetheless... It helps to maintain her figure despite her adoration of pasta and various other Italian foods.
Height: 5'6
Body: Slender but not to the point of looking sickly. Healthy would be a better representation.
Other distinguishing features: Her hair has been known to change colors from time to time. It all depends upon her mood and what color will fit the current occasion. It can go from dark red to the brightest of blondes. It's a wonder her hair hasn't completely fallen out yet after the dye jobs she has gone through.
Wardrobe:
When Beatrice does decide to put effort into her appearance, she tends to look quite nice. She does not favor one type of clothing over another but she does know the importance of a good tailor. No matter how high priced clothing may be, tailors are always the key. Nothing is ever loose or baggy on Beatrice and she prefers to keep it that way.
[/ul]
Play By: Emma Thompson
PERSONALITY
General personality:
(A large portion of her personality is found in her history.)
Ambitions
To have a book. She desires to have a book published and sold at actual bookstores. Not so much for the money or the publicity but to show people that she could actually do it. It’s one thing to have big talk such as Beatrice but it is another thing entirely to be able to back it up. Having a book would prove to herself as well that she has what it takes to be worthy of someone’s attention. At the end of the day, that’s what everyone wants in life. Someone to notice that they are there.
Fears
To be alone. While relationships have never been her strong point nor a large aspect to her life, Beatrice is utterly terrified of being alone. She would never admit that, especially to anyone who she might actually want to spend the rest of her life with due to her stubborn nature but it is true. If there is no one to spar with verbally, what good are clever comebacks? On an intimate level, she is human. She does have needs. To live alone for the rest of her life and be the modern Jane Austen is not a goal of hers.
Hobbies
Photography. Her main hobby will always be writing but a less well known hobby is taking pictures. After years of growing up in a house where beautiful pictures were often on display, it rubbed off on her. While she is no where near as skilled as her father, Beatrice still enjoys doing it. Her camera is cheap and sometimes her finger covers the lens, but you are not required to be good at your hobbies.
Quirks
Addicted to chap stick. Yes, it may be strange but that’s what a quirk is. She has been told on more than one occasion that the more chap stick you apply, the more dependent your lips are on it. The only way to fix this problem is to stop using chap stick. This is something she could never ever do. In fact, she keeps one container of it on her night stand, one in her purse, and several back up containers scattered throughout her apartment.
Quotes, frequently used expressions:
Beatrice has been known to raise her eyebrow frequently. It is usually due to her level of intrigue rising after listening to someone. It has also been known to occur when she is surprised by another's reaction to something she has said.
"A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours."
Likes:
Dislikes:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
BACKGROUND
Family: [I'll only mention her parents' names. To limit any confusion if others decide to join as her other canon family members. Later on in the history I refer to the as 'extended family'.]
Education: Graduate of Cambridge University
Occupation: Writer
Worst past experience: Coming home from school one day with an A on her first short story in English, eager to show her parents. However, when she came home, they were too busy packing for a trip to read over it first.
Best past experience:
History:
Beatrice Russo was born in London, England to Hawthorne and Isabella, a loving couple who without a doubt were delighted by the birth of their daughter. However, they were a bit young when they found out they were expecting. They barely had time to enjoy being newlyweds before the arrival of their daughter. Hawthorne had just been given the job as a travel photographer for a magazine, allowing him to circle the globe in search of exotic locations to photograph. A baby could hardly be raised on the road like that. Luckily, they were blessed with kind family members who adored watching after the little girl any chance they could. This gave the young couple plenty of time to travel and be alone, trying to obtain that same sense of being a newlywed. As Beatrice grew up though, she was smart enough to realize that not everyone’s parents went off on holidays all the time. It wasn’t a secret that her parents took advantage of the good nature of their extended family. Nevertheless, Beatrice grew up without too many abandonment issues. At least, she would never admit otherwise.
With any child, he or she often seeks the attention of adults in different forms. Beatrice wasn’t particularly funny nor was she exceedingly brilliant in one specific area. She was though, witty. Her sharp wit and quick tongue impressed the adults in her life while causing her peers to be weary of a friendship with her for fear of being cut down a notch or two. Not only was this a way to gain the admiration of others but keep those very people at arms length as well. She had few close friends in her youth, a trend which continued as she became an adult.
Throughout her school years, Beatrice found a hobby that encompassed her desire to impress and express. Writing was an outlet for her to allow every abandonment issue, every ounce of wit to be exposed upon paper. Through writing, she found a strength that caused her to walk with pride. It was something physical she could show her parents who tried to be a more permanent fixture in her life at that point. Despite her strength in writing, Beatrice never felt fully appreciated or cared for by her parents. They tried. Of course they did but she always felt there was something missing. Her inability to place her finger upon this missing link caused a deep sense of anger within her. This anger only caused her tongue to be sharper and laced with a hint of cruelty. To those who attempted to fight back and battle against her words, to try and be better at her in an area that she felt extreme pride in, she would hold nothing back. Mean as it may be to some, it did not matter to Beatrice.
The young girl thankfully had good enough grades to get into University. She studied at Cambridge University, under none other than writing. Short stories and works of fiction were her most common choices of prose to write. Never, never would she attempt to write as herself. First person from an original character’s point of view perhaps but writing lost its appeal if others could analyze it and find her issues on the paper. Writing was a form of hiding.
During college she had a steady stream of boyfriends, none lasting all that long. She was attractive and smart, characteristics that naturally would be appealing to most. Beatrice would declare herself as an acquired taste. Men never seemed to be able to keep up with her nor were they that fond of never being able to get away with a thing without her calling them out on it. Nevertheless, Beatrice had her fair share of men. Never finding one who was right for her.
When she finally graduated, Beatrice found herself wanting to be alone. Not alone in the sense of becoming a hermit and never seeing the sun again, but simply away from her family. In her opinion, the absolute best place to be a writer was New York. It was some place new and exciting. The first few years she lived in the city, things were rough. Beatrice found herself waiting tables and every other odd job imaginable while she continued to send in her writings to local newspaper editors with the hopes that something would be published in a paper, however insignificant it may be. Finally, luck played a role in her life as one of her short stories was published. A year or so of being put in the paper manage to get her an agent. The paper kept her fed but her agent kept her inspired. She was one of the few people who actually believed Beatrice could write a book, including Beatrice.
So now here she is, trying to find inspiration for a book…writing her short columns for the paper…and living in New York City.
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
“Where to begin,” Beatrice muttered to herself as she walked slowly through the park. New York’s Central Park was not a place where one had to worry about how they would appear to the stranger passing by. The majority of people who entered the park new what they were getting themselves into. Children, yelling and playing. Joggers pushing themselves to the limit. Pets sniffing at everything they weren’t supposed to. And those were only the ‘nice’ things the park offered. One woman talking to herself would not cause chaos. With a pen and small pad of paper, she began jotting down ideas. Anything, anything at all that struck her as story worthy.
As she found an empty park bench, one of the better looking ones that lacked the vast amount of bright pink gum on the underside, Beatrice found herself drifting off the topic of writing. “Why is it, nearly all gum stuck to any such surface maintains its color so nicely? One would assume the natural effects of weather would take its course,” her thoughts becoming wilder by the minute.
Finally, the random thoughts subsided, giving her time to look around the park. “I see…,” she began quietly, writing out the two words on her paper. It was a common exercise she used when feeling as if her muse was off on holiday. Her bright blue eyes glided up, meeting the crystal blue skies. “…skies of blue.,” Beatrice finished the sentence quickly on her pad of paper, sensing a burst of inspiration. Her eyes went back to the sky, hoping she would be hit again with a thought. “And clouds of white!” nearly laughing at how at the words flowed gracefully in her head. It was almost…poetic.
Beatrice was never one for poetry but even she could not deny the fact that the words she had just written down on paper had a distinct rhythm to them. It was actually quite irritating. Why was she feeling the desire to hum? Then it hit her. With a loud grunt, she slammed her pad of paper down next to her, crossing her arms across her chest, irritated with the world. “I am actually writing down What a Wonderful World… Copyrights alone would bankrupt me.” Maybe it was the loud grunt. Maybe it was the slamming of the notepad. But now, as she spoke to herself, she began to get the worried stares of the people going by. Perfect.
Beatrice Russo
High Class
High Class
Canon: Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing
Custom Title: A Bird Of My Tongue
PHYSICAL
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Beatrice is the type of woman who does not worry about looking perfect every single day. She is very much aware that to look perfect all the time would be an impossibility. Instead, when she knows the occasion requires it, she will put effort into her appearance and come out looking quite decent. However, if no one is to see her that day, she is more than comfortable lounging around her house in pajamas.
She has a deep love/hate relationship with exercising and working out. A vast majority of the women she comes in contact every day with are joined at some gym, constantly visiting the location in an effort to look like a stick. Though she does have a membership to a gym, Beatrice does not enjoy attending one little bit. In fact, she hates it because it's just too damn exhausting.But she goes nonetheless... It helps to maintain her figure despite her adoration of pasta and various other Italian foods.
Height: 5'6
Body: Slender but not to the point of looking sickly. Healthy would be a better representation.
Other distinguishing features: Her hair has been known to change colors from time to time. It all depends upon her mood and what color will fit the current occasion. It can go from dark red to the brightest of blondes. It's a wonder her hair hasn't completely fallen out yet after the dye jobs she has gone through.
Wardrobe:
When Beatrice does decide to put effort into her appearance, she tends to look quite nice. She does not favor one type of clothing over another but she does know the importance of a good tailor. No matter how high priced clothing may be, tailors are always the key. Nothing is ever loose or baggy on Beatrice and she prefers to keep it that way.
[/ul]
Play By: Emma Thompson
PERSONALITY
General personality:
(A large portion of her personality is found in her history.)
Ambitions
To have a book. She desires to have a book published and sold at actual bookstores. Not so much for the money or the publicity but to show people that she could actually do it. It’s one thing to have big talk such as Beatrice but it is another thing entirely to be able to back it up. Having a book would prove to herself as well that she has what it takes to be worthy of someone’s attention. At the end of the day, that’s what everyone wants in life. Someone to notice that they are there.
Fears
To be alone. While relationships have never been her strong point nor a large aspect to her life, Beatrice is utterly terrified of being alone. She would never admit that, especially to anyone who she might actually want to spend the rest of her life with due to her stubborn nature but it is true. If there is no one to spar with verbally, what good are clever comebacks? On an intimate level, she is human. She does have needs. To live alone for the rest of her life and be the modern Jane Austen is not a goal of hers.
Hobbies
Photography. Her main hobby will always be writing but a less well known hobby is taking pictures. After years of growing up in a house where beautiful pictures were often on display, it rubbed off on her. While she is no where near as skilled as her father, Beatrice still enjoys doing it. Her camera is cheap and sometimes her finger covers the lens, but you are not required to be good at your hobbies.
Quirks
Addicted to chap stick. Yes, it may be strange but that’s what a quirk is. She has been told on more than one occasion that the more chap stick you apply, the more dependent your lips are on it. The only way to fix this problem is to stop using chap stick. This is something she could never ever do. In fact, she keeps one container of it on her night stand, one in her purse, and several back up containers scattered throughout her apartment.
Quotes, frequently used expressions:
Beatrice has been known to raise her eyebrow frequently. It is usually due to her level of intrigue rising after listening to someone. It has also been known to occur when she is surprised by another's reaction to something she has said.
"A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours."
Likes:
- The combination of a book, a bag of chocolate, and her bed. The book can be substituted for a pad of paper and a pen.
- Parties of all sort. The more people the better. She enjoys a mixture of differing personalities. Very rarely are one on one conversations anything more than boring.
- Raspberries. Well, raspberry flavoring. Actual raspberries not as much.
Dislikes:
- To be called anything besides Beatrice. Her name is a part of her identity and anyone who feels they can alter her identity is in for a rude awakening.
- Hearing people talk loudly out in public. She absolutely despises hearing complete strangers go on and on about their lives at the next table in obnoxious loud voices.
- That lump in the back of your throat you get when you're about to start crying.
Strengths:
- Speaking her mind no matter how unflattering her opinions may be.
- She is fiercely protective of the few friends she does have. Beatrice would do anything to protect them for fear that they may possibly no longer see her deserving their friendship.
- Though she would like to say writing, there is something nagging about actually saying that. It's an ability she wishes for others to call a strength, not having to brag about it herself.
Weaknesses:
- Assuming that everyone has as thick of skin as her. This mainly applies to the very few friends she has.
- Multi-tasking, When she is in the zone, she is on fire. Verbal sparring, writing, you name it and she can do it. But place as list of things to do at once and she panics.
- Having to apologize for anything.
BACKGROUND
Family: [I'll only mention her parents' names. To limit any confusion if others decide to join as her other canon family members. Later on in the history I refer to the as 'extended family'.]
- Hawthorne James Russo: Father// Living- Photographer
- Isabella Marie Russo: Mother// Living- Housewife
(Both come from old money)
Education: Graduate of Cambridge University
Occupation: Writer
Worst past experience: Coming home from school one day with an A on her first short story in English, eager to show her parents. However, when she came home, they were too busy packing for a trip to read over it first.
Best past experience:
History:
Beatrice Russo was born in London, England to Hawthorne and Isabella, a loving couple who without a doubt were delighted by the birth of their daughter. However, they were a bit young when they found out they were expecting. They barely had time to enjoy being newlyweds before the arrival of their daughter. Hawthorne had just been given the job as a travel photographer for a magazine, allowing him to circle the globe in search of exotic locations to photograph. A baby could hardly be raised on the road like that. Luckily, they were blessed with kind family members who adored watching after the little girl any chance they could. This gave the young couple plenty of time to travel and be alone, trying to obtain that same sense of being a newlywed. As Beatrice grew up though, she was smart enough to realize that not everyone’s parents went off on holidays all the time. It wasn’t a secret that her parents took advantage of the good nature of their extended family. Nevertheless, Beatrice grew up without too many abandonment issues. At least, she would never admit otherwise.
With any child, he or she often seeks the attention of adults in different forms. Beatrice wasn’t particularly funny nor was she exceedingly brilliant in one specific area. She was though, witty. Her sharp wit and quick tongue impressed the adults in her life while causing her peers to be weary of a friendship with her for fear of being cut down a notch or two. Not only was this a way to gain the admiration of others but keep those very people at arms length as well. She had few close friends in her youth, a trend which continued as she became an adult.
Throughout her school years, Beatrice found a hobby that encompassed her desire to impress and express. Writing was an outlet for her to allow every abandonment issue, every ounce of wit to be exposed upon paper. Through writing, she found a strength that caused her to walk with pride. It was something physical she could show her parents who tried to be a more permanent fixture in her life at that point. Despite her strength in writing, Beatrice never felt fully appreciated or cared for by her parents. They tried. Of course they did but she always felt there was something missing. Her inability to place her finger upon this missing link caused a deep sense of anger within her. This anger only caused her tongue to be sharper and laced with a hint of cruelty. To those who attempted to fight back and battle against her words, to try and be better at her in an area that she felt extreme pride in, she would hold nothing back. Mean as it may be to some, it did not matter to Beatrice.
The young girl thankfully had good enough grades to get into University. She studied at Cambridge University, under none other than writing. Short stories and works of fiction were her most common choices of prose to write. Never, never would she attempt to write as herself. First person from an original character’s point of view perhaps but writing lost its appeal if others could analyze it and find her issues on the paper. Writing was a form of hiding.
During college she had a steady stream of boyfriends, none lasting all that long. She was attractive and smart, characteristics that naturally would be appealing to most. Beatrice would declare herself as an acquired taste. Men never seemed to be able to keep up with her nor were they that fond of never being able to get away with a thing without her calling them out on it. Nevertheless, Beatrice had her fair share of men. Never finding one who was right for her.
When she finally graduated, Beatrice found herself wanting to be alone. Not alone in the sense of becoming a hermit and never seeing the sun again, but simply away from her family. In her opinion, the absolute best place to be a writer was New York. It was some place new and exciting. The first few years she lived in the city, things were rough. Beatrice found herself waiting tables and every other odd job imaginable while she continued to send in her writings to local newspaper editors with the hopes that something would be published in a paper, however insignificant it may be. Finally, luck played a role in her life as one of her short stories was published. A year or so of being put in the paper manage to get her an agent. The paper kept her fed but her agent kept her inspired. She was one of the few people who actually believed Beatrice could write a book, including Beatrice.
So now here she is, trying to find inspiration for a book…writing her short columns for the paper…and living in New York City.
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
“Where to begin,” Beatrice muttered to herself as she walked slowly through the park. New York’s Central Park was not a place where one had to worry about how they would appear to the stranger passing by. The majority of people who entered the park new what they were getting themselves into. Children, yelling and playing. Joggers pushing themselves to the limit. Pets sniffing at everything they weren’t supposed to. And those were only the ‘nice’ things the park offered. One woman talking to herself would not cause chaos. With a pen and small pad of paper, she began jotting down ideas. Anything, anything at all that struck her as story worthy.
As she found an empty park bench, one of the better looking ones that lacked the vast amount of bright pink gum on the underside, Beatrice found herself drifting off the topic of writing. “Why is it, nearly all gum stuck to any such surface maintains its color so nicely? One would assume the natural effects of weather would take its course,” her thoughts becoming wilder by the minute.
Finally, the random thoughts subsided, giving her time to look around the park. “I see…,” she began quietly, writing out the two words on her paper. It was a common exercise she used when feeling as if her muse was off on holiday. Her bright blue eyes glided up, meeting the crystal blue skies. “…skies of blue.,” Beatrice finished the sentence quickly on her pad of paper, sensing a burst of inspiration. Her eyes went back to the sky, hoping she would be hit again with a thought. “And clouds of white!” nearly laughing at how at the words flowed gracefully in her head. It was almost…poetic.
Beatrice was never one for poetry but even she could not deny the fact that the words she had just written down on paper had a distinct rhythm to them. It was actually quite irritating. Why was she feeling the desire to hum? Then it hit her. With a loud grunt, she slammed her pad of paper down next to her, crossing her arms across her chest, irritated with the world. “I am actually writing down What a Wonderful World… Copyrights alone would bankrupt me.” Maybe it was the loud grunt. Maybe it was the slamming of the notepad. But now, as she spoke to herself, she began to get the worried stares of the people going by. Perfect.
