Post by tatiana on Nov 29, 2008 18:04:46 GMT -5
`go shake it ANA !
`let's just call this courtroom damned.[/center]
age; fifteen
rp experience; almost a year
how you found us; my lovely friend mandi
contact; pm me and i might give it out
other charries; none here
other; ra ra rasputin,, lover of the russian queen... (8)
yeah... slightly obsessed with anything crazy and random, and I HAVE A FRINGE [bangs for all americans
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`where the hell is my chiffon.
`i can't seem to get myself into motion.
`i can't seem to get myself into motion.
but it's okay everyone calls me; ana, alex, razz, maddi, midget
i popped outta my mom's b.ajingo; third of may
actually i'm some sort of; taurus
this place was such a s.hit hole; Moscow
ah, so like paradisefor me; Yalta
i don't look it but i'm actually; Russian/Ukaranian
it's just the way the wind blows; Bisexual
baddest b.itch all up and through here; second year ; major: law minor: music
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`designers, look out for andrae.
`tim gunn and andrae at the red lobster.
`tim gunn and andrae at the red lobster.
you know i could just swim in those; emerald green
does the carpet match the drapes; dark brown
i wish i could lose like three pounds; 98 pounds
she looks like a freakin giraffe; four foot eight
and then i got one on my a.ss; ear piercing, a tiny crown etched on the inside of her right hip.
they always seem to notice my; her small stature, snow white skin, dark hair, emerald [glittering] eyes.
you'll never see me without my; Ana is a pretty average dresser, nothing that makes her stand out from the crowd too much. Her basic uniform consists of a colourful beret, black skinny jeans and a pair of overworn converse baseball boots. With this she will accessorise anything, but usually something in dark colours or with a plain pattern. Image is not something that ruins her life, but it's important- blending in is usually her goal. She'd rather be picked out for her skills in other areas than for her looks, but as her mother and sister tell her, 'intelligence will get you nowhere,' which is perhaps why they aren't/didn't get the chance to study abroad.
However, when Ana steps out of her conventional wardrobe, there is something to be said for her random streak. Her favourite semi-formal outfit is her top hat with a blue and black tartan dress, with black ankle boots and black tights, with perfectly extravagant eye make-up and her wild attitude. Yes, when you let her out, she will destroy the town, picking up as many colours as she can in random styles. These are usually banished to the cupboards, but when they come out, take cover!
Having a short stature is hard for Ana, being mistaken for a ten year old often gets on her nerves. It. Is. Not. Her. Fault. She. Is. A. Midget. And it annoys her. High heels hurt her feet, since they are naturally flat, so she has to survive with it, using it to her advantage sometimes. Want into a crowded place to get something? Send Ana, she'll be back within five minutes. This small height also makes her noticable, and she uses it wisely as a marketing feature as a musician. You see her in band? Walking on it's tall, tall, tall, woah- why's there a space there?
Her hair is one of her most loved features so far. A dark colour, almost black, it contrasts perfectly with her porcelain skin tone, making a dramatic effect without any make-up, and framing her heart shaped face perfectly. Usually, she wears it up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck or down in it's tangled waves, but sometimes she straightens all of it. She straightens her long bangs most of the time, and they come down just to her eyes.
Her eyes, in themselves are one of her most defining features. A blazing emerald green they are the gateway to her soul, literally. She rarely looks people in the eyes, but when she does, her emotions show clearly. This leads to one of the more successful parts of her acting, as eye contact with audiences is always crucial, and such a device allows other people to act to the best of their ability. She is merely just the 'playmaker' in the stage form. [Oh dear... I'm quoting from HSM
]The rest of her facial features seem slightly unbalanced compared to her large eyes, as though they were just there to balance them to an extent. Her skin, is sheet white without the merit of freckles, though when embarrassed the applies of her cheeks will flush pink. Her nose is straight and her mouth is pretty normal, pale rose-tinted lips, her upper lip is slightly unbalanced compared to her lower one.
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`it's a m0.therfu.cking walk off.
`looks like barefoot appalachain lil' abner barbie.
`looks like barefoot appalachain lil' abner barbie.
i'm about to get wickety-wack all over;
it's like my signature kinda thing;
oh god not this again, i so suck;
it's like children of the corn but worse;
you know one day i'm going to;
it's just this weird innate thing;
some things just make me scream;
that is the most digusting thing ever;
you best remember this b.itch;Ana is something of a mixed personality, from quiet and reclusive to loud and bolshy- anything goes for her, most of the time. Since I’m a really disorganized person, I’m going to deal with the traits when they pop into my head, in different paragraphs, otherwise I will just get too confused to be any good to anyone.
The most common side to Ana, is her sensitive, artistic soul. Usually quiet and reserved, Ana keeps herself to herself, and the people closest to her. It is at this point many people will comment on the sensible human being in front of them, firing back answers when questions are asked, and getting on with the appropriate jobs in hand. People realise here, that they don’t know Ana as well as they may like, that there are only a handful of people who know certain things. She’ll make sarcastic comments, as that is part of her general personality overall, and she laughs at hidden meanings, intelligent humour in people’s words, and irony of situations. She reads a lot, and sits plugged into her ipod all day, as well as talking to friends sometimes. In this setting, she will talk to people, and smile and all the normal things… she just won’t be as hyper as she is sometimes.
The hyper side of Ana is umm… scary to say the least. The most random things will pop out of her mouth and you’ll hear her scary laugh from the other side of the campus. Something random can trigger it, and it’s usually not alcohol or sugar. More like oxygen and an infectious happy mood, or a cheesy joke, or some sort of innuendo. Once you start it, it won’t stop until it’s run it’s course, and it usually leaves Ana feeling drained, but at least with a sense of achievement- as everyone knows laughing is the laziest form of exercise.
Ana is intelligent. There’s no way round it. After leaving school with several A+ grades under her belt, she got to Higher education with barely a care. She’s a reading fanatic, and her record is a six hundred page book in a two hour car journey. She is fluent in around four languages, Russian as they travelled around the city, Ukaranian- the official language of the Crimea region of Russia, English which she began learning at six and French (to an extent) which she learned as the boy next door was from France, so she has a fair vocabulary. She enjoys music, having a musician father she was taught from an early age, and decided to minor in it. Grade eight clarinet and piano, and she adores singing for fun- having been taught using the Hungarian Kodaly method, meaning her sight-reading is pretty good.
Ana, being Ana, her sensitive side shows in relationships. She is extremely sentimental, and a hopeless romantic, though only if she falls hard. She’s not the world’s best flirt, but if she likes someone, she’ll flirt to the best of her ability without seeming transparent- a quality she detests in people. She’s a feminist, with very clear ideals, but she still likes being made to feel special
[sorry about this, i'm not good at personalities- usually i just develop them through rp][/size][/ul]
`lighten up it's just fashion.
`daniel, you're almost completely on the floor.
`daniel, you're almost completely on the floor.
Vladimir Ignor Rasputin; forty two ; music lecturer
it's cause you were dropped as a child; annabelle marianna rasputin ; thirteen ; schoolchild/model
that's what i'll look like when i'm old; marianna olsveve rasputin ; sixty eight ; pensioner, rotarian (only living grandparent)
yea they used to eat my shoelaces; a goldfish called celeste
it's like hell but only faster; Tatiana Rasputin was born in Moscow in nineteen nintey one, whilst her parents Emmeline and Vladimir were in visiting some very close family friends. Vladimir was at that time working in the city, so Emmeline often went up at weekends to meet him, since she worried constantly about how seeing his students live the 'student life' may compel him to rethink his outlook on life and revert back to his younger, more carefree days.
Emmeline and Vladimir met at the ages of eighteen and twenty-two respectively, as Emmeline was studying investigative journalism at the University in Moscow, and Vladimir was just starting his masters course in music at the conservertoire , having gained a first in honours music, second in his class. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, nor enemies from the start. More, competitive rivals, vying for the attentions of two others, the couple who eventually saw the beginnings of Ana's birth. After failing that, her two parents were both enraged and hooked up one night, drunk and blinded. Then, a few weeks later, it was discovered that 'Emmy' was pregnant. A whirlwind marriage ensued, neither happy until the little darling came along, and they found themselves bonded over the happy child. Annabelle, truly the miracle child, and since then she always was.
The pair learned to love each other in time, and two years after Annabelle came Tatiana, a second daughter to their family- and their last as 'Vlad' became more concerned with his work. At this time he was only twenty six, and working on his second PhD in 'Romantic Period use of Orchestral Music'. He was also working to feed the family as Emmy was at home looking after the two children. It was at this point, he started playing away, discreetly at first.
The rest of Tatiana's childhood was spent in Crimea, in Southern Russia. Crimea is the border between Russia and Ukraine, and Ukraine borders it on three sides. Here, she recieved schooling in academic subjects, as well as music and drama which she took her senior exams in. She was always recognized as a bright spark, since she was fluent in four languages by the time she left for university (most people were fluent in two, Ukaranian- the official language and one of the local languages.). Her father's influence meant that she could read music before she went to school, and her musicianship has always been of a high standard. She was taught by the Kolady teachings, and so her singing of scales and sight-reading has benefited from the techniques used. Her upbringing meant that she sang folk songs a lot of the time, though her voice is more suited to classical pieces, just not opera. She wouldn't consider herself a songwriter however, as though composing is something she has to dabble in for her course, she doesn't feel she's good at it at all.
As time neared for her to leave the little villiage, her mother found out about her father's affairs and started having affairs too. Annabelle, the more hardened of the sisters, didn't bat an eyelid, whereas Ana was slightly scandalized, leaving her more desperate to get out of the country as soon as possible. Now, steeped in the knowledge of student debt when she's older, Tatiana is just glad to be out of that scheme, for the duration of her studies at least.
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`i'm not your usual uncle nick.
`look at my wickety-wack trim. i mean, really.
`look at my wickety-wack trim. i mean, really.
i don't know what it means, something with; second year major: law minor: music
it's six am in the morning middle of winter; sorry about this app! my muse has taken an extended tour of the earth with batman, in place of robin who broke his leg. the rp sample is taken from At First Light where I play Renesmee Cullen
you must be smelling your own crotch;
Renesmee stayed quiet as her mother spoke, even through the large pauses between the carefully thought out words. Though, for someone with as large an intelligence as her mother, there could have been a lot better phrasing and perhaps a little more tact. She may only have been alive for five years, but she had a better intelect and much more experience than most people that looked the age she did. She didn't need to be patronized by the person who should, perhaps bar one other, know her the best.
But, she wondered. Had her mother ever stopped seeing her as a child? She'd been four by the time she was one year old, and her first year had been plagued with worry on everyone else's part, mostly her fault. Bella was making up for lost time, and she knew it. But she did have that maternal instinct, and her soothing tones were trying to make Renesmee feel better, she was even stroking her hair for god's sake! It must have been the sort of attention she hadn't got as a teenager, from grandma Renee, one of her namesakes. Never having met the woman, Renesmee couldn't make a proper judgment however, and perhaps it was best to humour her.
Unfortunately, trying to explain something to her mother meant she would have to abandon her music, or the guitar anyway. She could always pick it up later, and write it on one of the million manuscript sheets around the house. Not that she'd need one of them. The finishing chords were melancholy, slightly dissonant as she lifted her left hand up to her mother's face, pressing with the lightest touch. Her skin was like a flame to her, though like the cold temperature, she seemed to have adjusted a lot time ago.Jacob's face turned from one of puzzlment, to one of confusion, and defiance. How dare they accuse him? Her thoughts were filled with astonishments at this point, and she could see the rest of the vampires huddled round the table in the middle of the Cullen's living room. Police Officer Charlie Swan was standing in the doorway, looking solemn, saying that it was orders from above, that he wouldn't do this normally, not to Jacob, or them all. Everyone was agog, minds racing through possibilities at the speed of light. Jasper's fist was clenched, Esme looked as if she was about to cry. Edward and Carlisle's faces were composed, and Bella looked as if she was trying to do the same but failing. She - Renesemee - tried, but tears were in her eyes, angry and upset. What could she do? The memory tainted with anger, astonishment, sadness
Skip to the next day. Jacob. Jacob. Jacob. Her thoughts had tracked little else. Only listening slightly at the meeting, no one had really asked her, nor had she wished much input. If they'd asked, she would have been happy to help, but Edward and Carlisle were planning, probably trying to figure out which of their degrees would help them most. Emmett greeted it with the normal optimism, always looking for a fight. Rosalie, Rosalie had been next to her, murmuring in her ear, trying to help her, make her laugh and Alice, Alice had gone somewhere. Probably away from her, the bane of her aunt's life.
Hunting. It was indistinct shades of grey. Not fun without Jacob. Fading to blue, mum and dad had been busy, so even less fun on her own. And she'd come to the spot where the body had been. No one one, just a refreshed fear of seeing the last one, flashbacks.
Renesmee dropped her hand from her mothers face, looking up at her, as if to say, 'enough?'. Her melody was repeating now, back from the beginning as her hand strayed to the guitar, picking the strings again. What would her mother say? What could she say? Renesmee knew there was a time when she'd lost Edward, a year before she was born, but no one ever talked about it. She would understand. Wouldn't she? Her attention was diverted to the strings, being careful not to pluck them so hard that she'd break them, it had been known to happen when she was angry. But she wasn't angry now, a mix of emotions. Jasper would go spare if he was here. The pointlessness, sadness, neglect. All mixed up and dulled by her sense of optimism, managing to lay a blanket over it all, numbing her slightly.
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guess what?
and the winner is... of white pages made this not you
steal you die. header and subheader quotes from project runway and rene fris.
no redistribution without credit or a link posted in the correct thread
at the above website. do not change anything
[/font]and the winner is... of white pages made this not you
steal you die. header and subheader quotes from project runway and rene fris.
no redistribution without credit or a link posted in the correct thread
at the above website. do not change anything
