Post by anna on Jun 11, 2011 15:30:09 GMT -5
Hi, my name is Anna and this is my First character. I found this site through An ad!. Something you should know about me is I've totally
played Azelma before. .
Azelma Marie Thénardier
Low Class
Low Class
Canon: Les Misérables by Victor Hugo
Custom Title: The Other Thénardier Girl
PHYSICAL
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Orientation: Heterosexual
Appearance: Azelma is a scrawny, short, skinny, dirty little thing with hungry eyes and stringy brown hair. Her clothes are thin, worn, stained and faded. She slouches constantly. She likes the sun but burns easily and stays pale. Her voice is raspy from smoking and dehydration. Her lips are usually chapped and split because she'll lick them compulsively. She paints her fingernails when she can get her hands on some polish, but the colors are chipped. Azelma is at an age where she thinks of herself as an adult but acts like a child, this reflects in her dress and habits. She wears too much eyeliner and awful plum lipstick when she's dressing up. Her most often worn shirt is a faded blue, features an angel and says "rock 'n roll saved my soul"; she'd had the shirt since she was eleven. Her hair is long and tangled, never combed or tied up.
Height: 5' 4"
Weight/Body Type: Skin stretched drum-tight over sharp and brittle little bones.
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Play By: Charlotte Gainsbourg
PERSONALITY
General personality: Azelma is not a very loud girl. Even when she's horribly upset or angry or in the deep waves of a teenage angst, she keeps it to herself, content to glare at the world and accuse it of it's wrongdoings. She has a hard time taking the blame for anything she's done to cause her current living conditions, common people she'll blame are her father or the police. It's never her fault, if you ask her.
Azelma is not particularly smart or gifted with a great deal of common sense, but she isn't stupid and she is very realistic about her situation, if a bit pessimistic. She has no hopes or aspirations of going back to school or for that matter, living to be thirty. Her goals are much more short-term than that, mostly consisting of "Where am I gonna get smokes?" or "Wonder where 'Parnasse is?". She's a fierce little nicotene addict, with an equally fierce fixation on Montparnasse, one of her father's gang members. She has no moral qualms with stealing or lying or really with anything she does. She's stolen all sorts of things, clothes, money, pot, shoes, and has no feeling of guilt. She's stopped caring about being arrested, finding it more of an annoyance than anything else. She's lied about not being a virgin before, being concerned with building an image.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: "Papi." in reference to Javert. "Leave me alone!", "I didn't do it!", "I hate you!" and "I'm sorry, I smoke a lot of weed..." are also pretty high up on the list.
Likes: (at least three)
- Smoking, be it cigarettes or pot.
- Montparnasse
- Makeup
- Believe it or not, her 'Papi'.
Dislikes: (at least three)
- Going to jail. It's annoying.
- Chick flicks. That junk's not real.
- Blood. Azelma's oddly hemophobic.
Strengths: (at least three)
[/li][li] Lying
[/li][li] Getting away with illegal activities
[/li][li] Fierceness
Weaknesses:(at least three)
[/li][li] Smart remarks
[/li][li] Selfishness
[/li][li] Greed
BACKGROUND
Family: Eponine Thénardier, sister; Claude Thénardier, father; Simonette Thénardier, dead mother; Gavroche Thénardier brother gone missing, and two younger brother's she's all bt forgotten.
Education: Azelma's education stopped around seventh grade. She received some trouble for it but is grateful to at least now be old enough to drop out legally. One less thing to worry about.
Occupation/Job: Stalker of Montparnasse, stealer of weed and resident annoyance to her father.
Image: If you were to pass Azelma in the street, the only reason you'd look twice would be to see if she was really wearing a shirt with that many holes in it. If you didn't know her, you'd assume she was just another slutty teenager. Of course, she'd probably have your wallet by then.
History: Azelma was born in France, the second child of Claude and Simonette Thénardier, on September 17th. She enjoyed being the second child; no one quite expected as much of her as they did from Eponine. Most of Azelma's memories of the earliest years of her life are vague and hazy. She barely remembers her two youngest brothers, and her memories of Gavroche are mostly recent, although he tends to vanish. Her childhood didn't start out too unusually, she'd play with her sister, tease the cat(s, they tended to run off after being tackled and taken to Barbie doll tea parties), torment That-Other-Girl, Cosette, and bother mommy and daddy. Eponine was always the leader in their little games, and Azelma would follow eagerly, wanting to be just like Big Sister.
Her parents ran an inn, and when Azelma was about ten, it failed horribly. The family moved to America and things only got worse. She vividly remembers living under the Brooklyn Bridge; not only because living under a bridge tends to be traumatic, but because this was around the first time she tried smoking and other drugs. Her father began grooming her around then to follow in the family business, so to speak, of general thievery and dishonesty. Azelma had always known but never realised that this was how her family truly ran. The two youngest brothers disappeared, and so did Gavroche.
In their place, it seemed, her father found a gang, the Patron-Minette, that consisted of European immigrants much like the Thénardiers. Azelma met Montparnasse and was immediately, just totally in love. The gang pulled a stunt one night: That-Other-Lark-Girl was in town, and Papa wanted revenge for events Azelma hardly recalled. Something about money and payback, he'd said. They were all arrested, including Azelma and her sister. Two months later, she was out, and alone. Eponine was gone, her mother was dead, her brother was gone, and her father still in prison. She wandered the city for roughly two weeks before locating one of the gang members and staying in his flat. She stayed for three nights, finally locating her father. This didn't last long, she started to blame the man for her current life. Azelma currently couch/floor/box/pavement/park bench hops, runs errands for Papa steals things for kicks (and out of necessity), and smokes a lot of weed.
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
This bottle of nail polish was pink. But not a normal pink. This was a slick, vinyl sort of bubblegum pink. Bubblegum... aw, damn, Azelma thought. Now I'm hungry. At least the cop buggered off, though. Dear old Papi. Azelma liked to think he was actually Mexican or something. Nah. The man had French roots, much like her own. He only looked Mexican...ish. Or something.
Faker.
Weren't they all though, she thought, rubbing her thumbnail and enjoying the smooth, shiny feeling of freshly dry fingernail polish. Fakers and liars and thieves. Horrible, slimy people who all died someday. He'd mentioned a murderer and- oddly- taken the time to warn her. Poor little defenseless chickadee gonna get raped and stabbed. Won't live to be old enough to legally buy her own smokes.
Tragic.
She got up, the bones on her backside sore from the unforgiving pavement, and started to walk. Where are we gonna walk today, 'Zelma? We're gonna walk past the old Italian restaurant with the cute boy who dumps the grease and sit in the alley ten feet away and smoke some pot. And never, ever, amount to anything. It was funny to her how just a short conversation with Papi made her all morbid. Shoulda done your nails in black, punk. So what if she did die, like right now, just died? Who'd know? Who'd notice? She was in an alley, after all, by an Italian restaurant. It smelled. Surely it'd cover up the smell of her own rotting corpse and--
Morbid.
The tiny gap between the dumpster and the fence practically belonged to her. She'd taken the time to etch a heart into the bricks in the wall once. It took fifteen minutes and was still there after three years. Azelma was very proud of it. See, see it Papi? I made an art on the wall. It'll stay there after I'm dead. Whenever that happens. Could be today, could be tomorrow. Heck, she could actually get married or something, or- god forbid- have a kid. What if she got pregnant? That made her laugh. Not too many virgins get pregnant. Not these days.
...virgin.
She'd thought about it. She didn't have to be. She'd even lied about it before. Claquesous had called her pretty when she'd stayed with him. Lied through his teeth and called her pretty. Offered to let her stay there, do whatever she liked if she'd put out. Nevermind that the creep had to be in his forties or something. Ew, she thought, half-burning her fingers on the joint. Wasn't that illegal or something?
Hah. Illegal. Says the girl with the weed.
