Post by Valentina La Croix on Feb 6, 2016 16:31:52 GMT -5
Name:Valentina La Croix “Candy Apple”
School Attending: Spica
Age/ Year in School: (choose one below)
13/Second Year
14/Third Year
15/Fourth Year
16/Fifth Year
17/ Sixth Year
~ Appearance ~
Face Claim: Noblesse – Cadis Etrama Di Raziel
Hair Color:Black
Hairstyle:Short and feathered out in stringy, tapered threads just barely brushing her neck and the slope of her broad shoulders.
Eye Color:Blood red
Height:5”7
What kind of clothes does you character wear when she's not in uniform?
Valentina most often wears stiff white suits or long billowing trench coats. Her boyish clothing style can be described as a mid-century modern vampire. She always wears her brother's single cross-shaped earring on her right ear at all times no matter what outfit she is wearing.
What Sports/activities is you character involved in? You may choose "none" or a maximum of three from the list below.
Equestrian Sports: Yes /No
Horse name: Noire
Horse gender, breed and appearance: A pitch black Friesian mare with tufts of signature silky hair flowing over its hooves. Within her mane protrudes a long shock of white hair; a slight discoloration.
Fencing: Yes /No
Choir: Yes/No
Vollyball: Yes/No
Swim Team: Yes/No
Tennis: Yes/No
Archery: Yes/No
Track: Yes/No
Baseball: Yes/No
Soccer: Yes/No
Martial Arts: Yes/No
Hockey: Yes/No
Other? -If you wanted your character to be part of a sport or activity not listed above, please list it here and an admin will decide if your character can have it.
Is your character on the Student Council? Yes
If yes, what does your character think of the student council president? Shoka is a cruel mistress and she personally sees little gain for the purple queen in her malicious reign. Though as a knight serving under her in the council, she has little room to speak her mind though she won’t hesitate if provided an opportunity. A queen atop a cruel thrown of lies is unsteady and will no sooner topple. In favor of her position, she respects her with the embodiment of a knight’s passion and is likewise honored to serve under her.
Please explain your character's personality in 200 words or more:
Valentina is a reserved, decorous soul flowing along in the misty drift of life. Her scarlet gaze and ghostly white face are often darkened by a scowl, leading many to label her look as being “cruel and cold”. Some claim the opposite, and rumor that the girl really is a vampire with her “hypnotic” look and “otherworldly” charm. Charmed by the allure of a woman’s features yet harboring an ikemen look, she is the unfortunate target of many a young girls’ fantasies. It is for this jaded reason that she often seeks the elusive company of a dear old friend -- solitude.
When it comes to others, she’ll offer a few words and send them on their way, though she won’t outwardly refuse company if persisted. If she stumbles across a crying or troubled girl; despite her lack of fondness for socializing; she will attempt to help them in any way she is needed to as that was what was taught to her. Don’t expect any form of a smile in return.
At heart, Valentina is quite poetic. One may often spot her resting high up in a tree or beside beautiful sunlit bodies of water in the evenings scrawling poetry throughout the small pocketbook she always keeps on her. Colloquial lines drift through her head more often than not all throughout the day, so it is not uncommon to spot a random collection of poetic stanzas scrawled on the edges of desks or on the back of sheet music or notebooks all throughout Astrea. She never signs her name, as she never wishes for another to look upon her work and trace her to it although be poetry her passion.
If it is love one seeks, don’t expect too much of the white-clad “modern vampire” on the outside at first. While a truce romantic at heart, she figures little of the daze of love and will do little to reciprocate affections. Her form of love is more old-century; bouquets of roses, an affectionate poem flowered with words of soft passion, an occasional brushing of a hand through a lover’s hair, or a short-lived loving embrace. Though there is no need for alarm – unlike a vampire, she lacks the drive to bite.
What does you character think of the Etoile position as a whole? Flashy, jaded, and a miss off the mark of elegant. If one’s love was really true enough, why was a competition to prove it needed?
Does your character want to be an Etoile someday? She prefers to live a quiet existence at the fringes of society, but wouldn’t turn down an offer if it was persistent enough.
What does your character think of the current etoiles? Coyote and Hiroko emulate figures of a storybook to her. A modern prince and princess devoted to a code of fairytale love. While they have an arguably long way to rise to achieve the noble status of king and queen, Valentina harbors a quiet respect for them. If seen in passing, she would give an acknowledging nod of a head and nothing more. Hiroko’s shy nature peeks the knightly edge to her, though with Coyote as the guarding prince, she doesn’t regard it often.
What does your character think of the other schools? Miator is a land of elegance that she approves of, though the whole appointed center of it being a bridal path draws little interest to her. Lulim does poorly to sway her eye with its informal quips and bright colors, but she still respects the school nonetheless. The rivalry between the two reigning academic kingdoms of Miator and Spica comes off as childish to her personal views. What good would a war do, lest more a boiling pot of tension?
~History~
Please write in 100 words or more your character's history before she came to Spica.
Valentina was born in a large mansion in the heart of France in December to a wealthy French couple. She was the twin of Victoir la Croix who was born just four minutes before her birth at midnight at the height of that winter’s full moon, separating the twins’ birthdays on consecutive days. Valentina was a timid soul at first. Shy and mousy, she could never bring herself to look straight into another’s eyes nor even converse with the devoted servants of the mansion. She existed as nothing more than a ghost beside her brother who grew more into a confident man with the passing of every tedious day. They were close during the time they were young, yet the gleaming white institutes of schooling soon threatened to severe that bond.
When the two crested at the rightful age for school, the two were sent off to separate elementary academies to pursue an intense session of studies. Before they parted, he entrusted her with the one silver, cross-shaped earing males of the Croix family usually wore, telling her that they would be together again soon. While Victoir was whisked off to a prominent all-boys business academy, Valentina found herself sheltered among the roses of an all-girl’s vocational academy. Here the soil was weak and not of favorable interest to her, and the roots of the blossoming young girl failed to be planted. To encompass the jaded atmosphere of the boring womanly classes, she began writing poetry. Lovely, romantic words flowed like water through her notebooks; scattered among columns of notes and edging across hidden corners of the school. Many girls rumored the romantic collections as the words of a fairytale prince on the cusp to whisk them off to their childish princess fantasies.
Valentina was not allowed to see her brother during the times she was permitted to return home when school hit a lull in the intense year. “He’s in a very important meeting,” and “Know your place as a woman and stay out of his business. He’s a man now,” would be the common excuses. These only burned her ears. Why couldn’t she see her dear brother? She hadn’t seen him since they had been both driven off at the young age of five. It had been six years now. What had become of him? Her dear brother?
On the eve of winter, she finally managed to catch him in the French garden in the front of the large Croix manor. He looked mature for his age, as did she. Yet when she called to him, she only saw a brother she had never seen before. His eyes were steely; a sneer souring his once smiling lips. He greeted her with a harsh edge and avoided any and all use of her name. “You’re a lowly woman, know your place before you speak. You’re not even in the correct style of presence to be even granted the grace to speaking to me,” he growled. This angered Valentina. She tried to reach out with a mending hand, but it was slapped away. Then that hand connected with her face. It was sound and moment she would never forget. “What have they done to you?” She had tried to ask.
“Valentina, I’m dying.” He had suddenly announced. “Our parents want so much of me, but I won’t be able to offer them anything more with this accursed illness!” It was then that she had noticed the blood dripping from his lips – the sickness that paled his face and sapped the light out of his once joyous eyes. Her brother was sick. Her dear twin. After that confrontation, he was soon bedridden and died surrounded by a swarm of wailing servants and heartbroken parents. Valentina didn’t attend the bedside vigil. How she came to loathe that fateful day. It had been four minutes past midnight; her birthday.
The death of Victoir depressed the Croix parents. They spent much time mourning and little time tending to their daughter. It was during this time where the girl went through a metamorphosis. No more tears could fall from her sore eyes; they had all but dried up. A new figure burst forth from within her – reserved, elegant, and what could be labeled as cold. Because she was a woman, she couldn’t come close to her brother’s position. That would have been the case. When her parents’ tears dried, however, they once more looked at their daughter and noticed her change. The sniveling girl was gone now, replaced by the ghostly white figure of a more confident being. She had accepted his passing and stepped up in place of her late brother.
It wasn’t long until Valentina had shortened her long black locks and took on a more business-like air. This attracted the eyes of many an interested woman which lead to much awkwardness and a plethora of confessions. She was soon whisked off to a brief session of business classes and educated in the responsibility and gentlemanly etiquette of an heir to the family. Confident of the figure they had modeled, they soon contacted and sent her off to Astrea Hill’s St. Spica’s all-girl’s Institute far out east in Japan for a more formal education. Upon graduation, they hope she’ll return to take on the family business in place of their deceased Victoir.
History before Astraea Hill:
(Below are the sections for your character's history during her time on Astraea Hill. If you are joining as a first year, you do not have to fill out the sections below until the end of the year. If you are joining as any other year please make up a history for any years before her current year, even if she was attending another campus. If you have already played your character here on SPRP for a year or more (in rp time), please add any events you role played to the appropriate history section. Any years you have not yet played, you may leave blank, but you will fill them out when your character reaches that year in school.
First Year: Attending business classes in France in place of her brother.
Second Year: Adjusting to her new life in Astrea while trying to keep out of public eye.
Third Year:
Fourth Year:
Fifth Year:
Sixth Year:
Sample Post:
Silver shafts of light glittering off the handmaid’s dress
Frosting over the crests of lace with the softness of snow
Irises of blue bloom over a sea of hair as black as a starless night
While concentrated lips gloss monotony into the stagnant air
A poetic melody was flowing. It wasn’t tangible nor was it detected by the working handmaid’s ears. It was the words of the countess’s thoughts and hers alone. Taking seed and blossoming while silken ribbons of black hair were combed through with a bristled brush. Scarlet orbs washed over the mirror before her.
Victoir was poised upon the rattan seat, a mousy maid carefully stroking through each lock of jet black hair. A silver earring in the shape of a thin cross flashed where it swung suspended from the curve of his right ear. The neat collar of his formal suit was folded over into a perfect five-inch arch. Out from under that collar fluttered a white ruffle. A knot tugged along a strand of hair, and he jolted just like she. How strange. Their movements were perfectly in sync. Each inflation of the chest with each breath, every flutter of a lash. Even the cross swung in a mirrored rhythm. Valentina wanted to reach out to the glass, but as she raised a lily-white hand, he did too.
This wasn’t her brother. It was just a reflection. She was looking into a mirror. Yes, that was right, how could she forget? The brush was suddenly absent from her hair. Red orbs misted off their glaze and searched for the maid.
“You look just like him, mistress Valentina.” Came the youthful voice.
“You think so?” She answered quietly.
An ivory hand grasped up at the cross earring.
The poignancy of a reflection…
How did you find our website? Lumi here once again looking for interesting muses with a princely vampire new character!
