Post by KRISTINE "LOTTE" DAY on Feb 17, 2013 17:41:08 GMT -5
Kristine "Lotte" Day
"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing."
OOC: Izzi, I'm 17, and I've been here awhile, but on and off :3
Canon: Phantom of the Opera by Leroux
Face-claim: Taylor Momsen
Social Status: She has no one to support her, and she's a waitress living in NYC. You do the math. (Low class
)Occupation: A bit of a starving artist. She's a singer--or, she would like to be. She used to be a part of a metal band, Nykter Vinter, in college before she dropped out. Now she works at a club as a waitress. She's a bit of everything; writer, singer, poet.
Age: 22
Appearance: Slender. She’s a fan of aerobics, yoga, and light exercise, and since she's often showing her midriff, she’s fit. 5’4”. Her eyes are electric blue, which offsets her face and makes her look like she's always watery-eyed. Always made up with dark colors, and her signature raccoon eyes. Most people wouldn’t think much of Kristine upon a first glance; her looks fit everyone’s stereotype of a rocker. Her hair, naturally brunette, is dyed platinum blonde, and she sometimes lets her roots grow out because she thinks the contrast looks cool. It falls past her shoulders in ratty looking waves. She also uses a hell of a lot of hairspray and this gives her a rather uncleanly appearance.
However, Kristine tries to keep herself showered and smelling nice and all of this; her perfumes are sometimes not very subtle, though, and occasionally smell like cologne. She usually wears many necklaces and bracelets at once, and is not a stranger to skinny jeans, leather jackets, and fishnets. She wears lots of tank tops and flannels, too--she's more grunge than goth. She usually paints her fingernails black or purple, though sometimes she’ll use brighter colors like pink or red. Her lips are usually painted with a deep red, but this can also be switched to something like pink on a day to day basis. She doesn't conform to goth culture, partly because she doesn't like it all, and partly because she's too shy to.
Despite her appearance, she is always ready to greet people with a friendly smile. She can often be seen with her earbuds in. In a room of people, she wouldn’t stand out that much, but she does have a distinct style.
Overall Personality: Kris is many things, and most of those things are hidden beneath the surface. She seems intimidating upon first glance--her dark eyeshadow and the creases between her eyebrows--but once you get to know her, she's extremely sweet. Most people she's friends with have either realized this early or are only into her rocker look, so she doesn't really have any real friends. She's very lonely and feels lost in her own skin--one thing about her is that New York is too big for her. Kristine needs somewhere small to hole up and stay for a very long time, and she often does this in her four hundred square foot apartment--that's one room. Her apartment is so small that the shower is actually physically in her living room, which is also her bedroom. She has a microwave on her coffee table, and three bowls. It's a meager life.
Like I said before, she's very lonely. The only friend she had in the world was her father, but he died when she was just about to leave for college. When he died, she fell into a world of turmoil--she got into drugs, even hardcore ones, and started smoking. She can't remember a whole year or so of her life (18-20) because she was mostly drunk during that time. She just couldn't take the grief. She even considered suicide a few times. The only thing that kept her going was a promise her father had made her--he promised that when he was dead, he would send someone to watch over her. Being a catholic, she believes in Angels and thinks that he was supposed to send her a guardian angel.
Aside from being lonely, she is also a very angry person, but she bottles it up inside of her. She's angry that she was silly enough to believe in an angel that never came for her, and she's angry that her father left her with nothing. The only reason she's now clean of drugs and despair is that an old friend of her fathers helped her get back on her feet. Madame Valerius was her father's palm reader--he was a superstitious man. Madame, or "Mama", lives in Harlem and often visits Kristine. She's the sweetest old lady, and Kristine's best friend despite the age difference. She loves hearing stories from her about old New York, and Mama loves to talk about how she had affairs with Jackie Robinson and the like before she "married herself a white man". Mr. Valerius was a sanitation director but a huge fan of theatre, one of the smartest men Christine ever met.
Above all, she's sad. Like most people in New York, she has unfulfilled dreams, and she has a hard time dealing with that fact. She may seem apathetic about it in front of other people, but inside, it's slowly killing her. She's already been down that rough road, and she knows--or thinks--that she just has to keep holding on. She feels like she's never going to amount to anything, and that she'll stay unhappy for the rest of her life. She often feels hopeless, and more often feels worthless. She doesn't like to make choices, either--she wants everyone to be happy at the same time and this can get problematic.
She used to love to sing. She used to be a very happy little girl, actually. She hasn't sung since college, when she was in her band--and even then, she never revealed her true potential. She's probably not even aware of her own potential. Her shell is very hard to break, and to be honest, it would be easier to really get to know her if you watched without her knowing. Oh, she also has a dog, like a lot of people in NYC. He's an Italian greyhound and his name is Oskar.
As for her voice, she has a soft, jazzy voice. If her voice was an object it would be honey--golden brown and sugary sweet, but slow and sultry. Think something like Fiona Apple.
Likes, dislikes:
Likes:
-music; all kinds. Her favorites are Lana del Rey, Rise Against, Elliott Smith, Lady Gaga, Flyleaf, and some old country like Johnny Cash and Willy Nelson. But she really does love all kinds of music, no exceptions. Opera, rap, jazz, everything.
-tumblr; she's tumblr user nyktervinter, and it's one of her favorite places. The Internet in general is a favorite of hers. Instead of a laptop, she owns a tablet, because it was cheaper and she can draw on it. The only downside is that she has to climb to her neighbor's fire escape to get Internet connection, so she can't have Internet and be warm and comfortable at the same time. Mostly she blogs about cats and Lana del Rey and pretty underwear.
-going to church; even though her looks are intimidating, she's still religious. She goes to mass whenever she can--that is, when she's not working and can make it. Thankfully, being in New York, churches are open nearly 24 hours and she can go just to sit whenever she wants to.
-Oskar; she treats him more like her baby than her pet. She would rather he be warm and safe and fed than herself be any of those things. Pet food gets expensive sometimes, so she has to give up a lot of things to afford him. She wouldn't trade him for the world. She named him after Oskar Schindler, because she saw Schindler's List once and thought Liam Neeson was great.
-pretty clothes; she just likes to look nice. Her idea of pretty is very different from other people's, though. She loves comfy, ripped jeans and sweat pants, black lace and men's shirts. Kris is also not shy about her cleavage--not because she wants people to look at it, but because she really doesn't care if anyone does and doesn't like a lot of layers.
Dislikes:
-her job; she's a waitress in a nightclub, so while she's mixing drinks and making peanuts, she gets to see other young ladies performing on the stage. Now, she isn't vain or critical or jealous. She always compliments the performers, and some of them appreciate it. She just hates to see it.
-talking about her past; some really painful things have happened to her, some things she hasn't told anyone but Mama. She's done things she isn't proud of and feels like trash for it every day.
-closed minded people; even though she's Catholic and they're in a sort of war with the gays right now, she believes that love is a beautiful thing and that they should be able to marry whoever they like. She also gets a lot of sneers from people when she goes places because of how she dresses and how quiet she is. A lot of people think she's cold and mean because she doesn't talk, but it's really just because she's shy.
-New York; she doesn't like big, open spaces. She feels lost in her own skin, and feels that New York is too big for her. There are too many choices and decisions, and she hates being confronted with those. She would move, but she doesn't have anywhere to go.
-singing; it's a sore spot for her. Not only because she thinks she isn't good, but also because it reminds her of her father.
Goals, fears:
Goals:
-to get back into college; she's penniless at the moment, but she feels awful for dropping out of college. She knows that she won't amount to much without a degree and she feels like she's wasting her life. However, college is way too expensive for her, so she needs to save up. She only has a couple hundred dollars in the bank, so she's a long way off.
-to find some friends; she has plenty of friends on the Internet, but that's not enough. She needs physical compensation, to be able to hug and kiss her friends. When she gets close to a friend, boy or girl, she gets really close, like they're part of her family.
-to find a family; there's Mama, but she's only one woman. She wants to find somewhere where she belongs, and so far, she has no idea where she would go
-to travel somewhere; she can't afford it now, obviously, but she'd like to go somewhere. Anywhere. She's always wanted to go to New England, like Salem and Boston.
Fears:
-motorcycles; her father died in a motorcycle accident, and even before then, she didn't like them because she couldn't imagine how on earth they worked. She winces at the sound of an engine revving, and no freaking way you'll get her to go on one.
-that she'll never amount to anything; pretty self explanatory
-death; not only does she not know what happens after you die, but it also brings back painful memories of her father. She doesn't like to think about the angel her father promised her because it makes her feel like a stupid child for believing it would ever come. Still, she has a little hope that it might still come.
Overall History: She's lived in NYC all of her life. She never knew her mother, who evidently split early in her life. She lived with her father, and her Swedish grandparents in the lower east side. When she was a little girl, she couldn't speak English because she spent so much time with her grandmother, but her father taught her in time for school. She can still speak a little bit, but she doesn't remember much at all. Her grandparents died when she was young, so it didn't affect her much over all. However, what stuck with her was a story her grandmother used to tell her about a little girl named Lotte--also Kristine's nickname--that was visited by the angel of music and brought up to heaven with him.
She found this exciting because her father was a violinist and he often brought her to performances, where she would sing on stage. It seemed she was destined to be a singer.
Kris went through school much like any other kid, and was an average student. When she was a freshman in highschool, traveling home from school on the subway, she lost her scarf--it fell into the pit, on the subway rails. She wasn't about to go get it, even though it was a gift from her father, but before she could move on, a boy darted out and jumped into the pit to go get it. There was a huge commotion, of course, because jumping onto subway rails is one of the most stupid things you can do. They got him out, though, thankfully, and he gave her her scarf back. He was dressed in nice clothing, obviously a tourist, and now smelled like garbage and piss. So did her scarf. But she took it anyway and they rode the train together. She spent the next week or so with him, showing him all the best places to eat and how to avoid getting pickpocketed. When he left, they swore to keep in touch, but it didn't really work out.
The next major event was her father's death. She was eighteen when it occurred and was legally able to take care of herself, but she didn't know how. That was when she had her breakdown and fell in with a bad crowd. She went to her father's old friend, Madame Valerius, for help after a year or so. She helped her recover.
Later that year, Mama bought her something for her birthday--a life-like animatronic butterfly in a jar, that fluttered and flew when you touched the glass. It's Kristine's prized possession and she always sleeps with it next to her pillow. Even though its not alive, she felt less lonely with it. Next year, she got a job; the job which she has now. Once she saved up enough money, she bought a friend for herself--Oskar. She got him from one of those humane societies that rescues retired race dogs. It was around this time that she gave up on the angel of music.
That's pretty much everything that has happened in her life. So far.
Most Influential Event: Her father's death, by far.
Washington Square was bitterly cold, and Kristine didn't care for it, but Oskar did. There was a small enclosement off the side of the park where dogs could go and play with other dogs, and there were usually one or two his size. Kristine went with him, of course, but insisted he wear a sweater. He pulled her across MacDougal and through the gates of the square, content in his striped doggy cardigan.
Things were bleak for Kristine these days, and her dog was one of the only things that made her happy anymore. She recalled having this same feeling just after her father died, before... well, before everything went to hell. She wouldn't let that happen again; she'd sworn to herself that she would never go back to that place.
"Oskar," she said, tugging at him a little when he tried to jump a smaller dog. She pronounced his name always with a funny little German accent. It was times like that that her Swedish shone out; since she'd learned English so early, she didn't really have an accent, except when she was very upset. Some people stuttered and gasped, but she spoke like she had as a child. It seemed fitting.
Kristine sat on the stone edge of the well in the center of the square--it was a pool of sorts. One would almost expect there to be a fountain there, but there wasn't--just stairs going a few feet into the ground and a stone slab. She released Oskar's leash and let him trot around by himself--he never left her side to chase. She lowered her head, then, and forgot about him for a moment. The music in her ears was loud, but she could hear something louder. Something that sounded deep in the city--a dubious hum that rose in waves even over the constant traffic. Like it was waiting.
She heard a voice behind her which made her start.
"Kristine Day, where is your red scarf?"
Things were bleak for Kristine these days, and her dog was one of the only things that made her happy anymore. She recalled having this same feeling just after her father died, before... well, before everything went to hell. She wouldn't let that happen again; she'd sworn to herself that she would never go back to that place.
"Oskar," she said, tugging at him a little when he tried to jump a smaller dog. She pronounced his name always with a funny little German accent. It was times like that that her Swedish shone out; since she'd learned English so early, she didn't really have an accent, except when she was very upset. Some people stuttered and gasped, but she spoke like she had as a child. It seemed fitting.
Kristine sat on the stone edge of the well in the center of the square--it was a pool of sorts. One would almost expect there to be a fountain there, but there wasn't--just stairs going a few feet into the ground and a stone slab. She released Oskar's leash and let him trot around by himself--he never left her side to chase. She lowered her head, then, and forgot about him for a moment. The music in her ears was loud, but she could hear something louder. Something that sounded deep in the city--a dubious hum that rose in waves even over the constant traffic. Like it was waiting.
She heard a voice behind her which made her start.
"Kristine Day, where is your red scarf?"
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