Post by adrienne michelle rosier on Feb 17, 2012 1:20:57 GMT
adrienne michelle rosier
SEVENTEEN - RAVENCLAW - PUREBLOOD - NATALIYA PIRO
THE SCARS OF YOUR LOVE
[/size]remind me of us - - - - - -[/center]
&.xtheBACKGROUND?!
Adrienne Rosier’s birth wasn't pleasant for neither the mother nor the child. Her mother had already been suffering from illness, and the extra weight of carrying a child did not make it any better. In fact, it seemed to make it worse. The healers did not give much of a chance to neither mother nor daughter, but they were part Selwyn, and, well, giving up and dying just wasn’t an option. Calista fought through the sickness and the hardships of bearing a child, and they both made it out alive.
Adrienne wouldn’t be the first to admit she was a bit of a spoiled child. Actually, they all were fairly spoiled—this family had money to spare and no shame in lavishing their children with gifts. There wasn’t much that she wasn’t allowed to do; actually, she could pretty much do whatever the hell she wanted and not get into trouble with it. No one knew this better than her poor, abused house-elf, who wasn’t allowed to say anything negative about her mistress anyways.
Alice, Adrienne’s older sister, simply doted on the child. She showered her with love and affection, although at seven years old, it was a rather odd form of affection. She always wanted to hold the baby and was always exceedingly careful, but it was almost smothering, this love. Alice never left her alone, never let her out of her sight, even. It was constricting, to say the least.
Adrienne discovered at a young age the effectiveness of pain, or even fear of pain, to get her what she wanted when she wanted. Jakina, her house-elf, was fighting an ever-losing battle to try and keep the child from becoming cruel and heartless, but it was a sequence of events after that that truly turned Adrienne into the person she is now. The curiosity of manipulation was apparent—but the cruelty was not quite there yet, and neither was the inability to connect to people.
It seemed to Adrienne that throughout her life, everything she loved met some kind of unfortunate end. Take her dolls, for example. They were the love of her life. She was extremely attached to them, to the point were overly-possessiveness would barely let them out of her sight for even five minutes. Now, when she was four, her older brother Aaron went on a manic doll-killing spree and decapitated them all. She was devastated. And this, coupled with her sister’s sorting into Gryffindor the year before, did not make for a very happy Adrienne.
In fact, it was Alice who eventually pushed Adrienne closer to her pure-blood supremacist roots. In a strange sort of way, the thought that her older sister (and soon older brother, Max) were traipsing with muggles disgusted her. In all she had learned from both her parents and other people, loving a muggle was almost the equivalent of loving. . . well, an animal. This just didn’t sit well with her. She began to treat her older sisters with an almost disdainful attitude, and retained this throughout her childhood.
The year that Adrienne was first at Hogwarts was also the year Max and Alice left forever and were smited from the Rosier family. It was then that she scrubbed out any sort of memory of them from her life, pretending they didn’t exist at all. She was promptly sorted into Ravenclaw, which surprised no one, and gradually began to make a name for herself at Hogwarts. No one quite knew what to make of her—but Adrienne knew what she wanted. She didn’t want to just be known, she wanted to be feared. Still working on that one.
&.xthePERSONALITY?!
The first thing you notice about Adrienne when she walks into the room is the overwhelming confidence she exerts. She walks into a room with her head held high, poised and graceful—she owns the room, and everyone in it should know this indisputable fact. Her smile isn’t one that should be taken for happiness; no, that smile is the self-satisfied smirk of someone who is fully aware that she intimidates people, and she makes sure it stays that way. Arrogance is obvious in both her posture and the way she treats others; in her world, Adrienne is God. She is the one and the only, and whatever Adrienne wants, Adrienne gets. There is no denying this spoiled daddy’s girl her wants, and it goes without saying that she has no needs. Her pride prevents her from bending to anyone’s will. In fact, she would rather be tortured and killed than give in to someone else’s wishes, especially if they were of an inferior race.
That Cheshire smile, yes, see? That one she’s giving that muggle-born boy over there, that one’s dangerous. This particular brand of Adrienne kindness generally precedes moments of intense cruelty. She is the type to play with her food before she eats it. Being still young, Adrienne is more prone to physical cruelty than mental, as she does not yet possess the perception or observation skills necessary to cut into her victims. But Adrienne is a curious teenager, always pushing and prodding people further and further, always searching for what exactly makes them tick. She sees them almost as experiments, something she can test on over and over again just to see what hurts them most—and this is both physical and mental weaknesses she is intent on exploiting.
A common misconception that people often have about Adrienne is that her physical appearance belies her personality. Yes, she looks rather innocent—a little fragile, like someone who needs to be protected. This is not the case. Adrienne often uses this to her advantage; she lures them into trusting her, in order to get much of the information she wants. She often appears to be interested, and, indeed, to be in a sort of mockery of ‘love.’ Adrienne does not exactly understand the meaning of the word ‘love.’ She is a user, plain and simple, with the wide eyes and the porcelain features that often delude people into trusting her.
Adrienne is cursed with wildly conflicting emotions that tend to change on a dime. One moment she is happy, laughing and joking—and the next furious, with that dangerous glint in her eye. She is easily offended and quick to violence, and not easily appeased. While it can be said that it would be good not to get on her bad side, Adrienne is curiously not the type to hold grudges. She is flighty and forgetful, unloyal to the extreme—and likely to betray anyone to get the power she so desires. Adrienne is not the type to have very close friends—although they may believe themselves to be her close friends, she does not exactly have more feelings for them greater than mild affection.
$.xalittleEXTRA?!
MIRROR OF ERISED: Adrienne sees herself wearing expensive jewelry, in a position of power, a self-satisfied smirk on her face
BOGGART: Failure is not an option, so her worst fear is being beaten, losing, any form of failure at all
DEMENTOR: While it might seem silly to others, Adrienne’s worst memory was when she was four and her brother Aaron ripped the heads off all of her dolls. It was a rather frightening experience for her to walk into her room and see a bunch of decapitated dolls lying grotesquely around her room; needless to say, it was fairly scarring.
AMORTENTIA: Fresh parchment, Spearmint gum, Smoke
VERITASERUM: She keeps the disgrace of her two older siblings a secret; if anyone asks, they are of no relation to her whatsoever.
PATRONUS: A small but fierce tuxedo cat
YOUR GOING TO WISH
[/size]you had never met me - - - - - -[/center]
name/alias: Flash
gender: Female
age: 17
contact: PM
how you found us: Ad on MM
other characters: n/a
experience: about five years
role play sample:
Adrienne stood in front of the mirror and forced herself to look critically at her reflection. Appearance was everything. Like that strand of fiery red hair, sticking straight up into the sky? That just won't do. No, not at all. Who would take her seriously if her hair looked like she's just stuck a finger in an electrical socket? She sighed and sat down on her bunk, taking the brush from her nightstand and running it through her hair for what must have been the thirtieth time that day. It fell down her back in waves of dark red, silky smooth and shining. But it just wasn't perfect. It would never be perfect. She threw the brush back onto the bed and stood, casting another critical glance at her reflection. Her wealth and status were obvious in her stylish clothing, her poise--yet her wide blue eyes stared back at her in a way that made her look timid, weak. Adrienne Rosier was anything but weak. She tore her eyes away from the mirror and slipped out of the Common Room; there was no reason to dwell on matters such as personal appearance. Who was there to impress at this time of night? There was no one to hang out with at the moment, she had not made illicit plans with anyone, and it was highly unlikely that there would be anyone wandering around this time of night. Apart from herself, of course.
She was restless. There was nothing for her in that Common Room that she was in the mood for; there was no one she generally wanted to speak to. So, she decided to sneak out. Well, not exactly sneak, per se. Adrienne did not sneak. She sauntered. She strutted. She graced the world with her presence with her head held high and superiority oozing out of every pore in her body. And, as she was pretty much God's gift to the world, she was at perfect liberty to wander around wherever and whenever she wanted, Prefects or not. Or, for that matter, teachers. Although considering the teachers that now occupied the school, it would probably be safer for her to stay safely tucked in her bed and stare at the ceiling contemplating her particular insecurities. But that wouldn't do, not at all. Not with her temper. Bad things would happen, she was sure of it. She was like a tiger locked in a cage; majestic and proud, wild and unable to be tamed. Being locked up like this at night, it was killing her slowly inside. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take being in this goddamned dormitory when the moon was shining bright into the lake, when the wind was whispering in her ear, when the faint scent of the outdoor world called to her. She could not take it much longer at all.
She padded out into the corridors, her wand tip alight. The paintings muttered among themselves, barely audible complaints of her waking them up and can't anyone get a good night's sleep these days? Impertinent children. Adrienne didn't quite hear the comments; she didn't even really know where she was going. It was an aimless journey to nowhere, something that generally happened to students in the middle of the night. There was nothing. Nothing. Nothing and no one. It was just a girl and her thoughts, and the soft velvety blackness of the night. Adrienne embraced the night like she embraced nothing else. It was something she was comfortable in. She was the night, and the night was her. She thrived in the darkness. It cleared her mind and gave her strength; it made her feel. . . special. More than she had been before. Secretly, Adrienne envied the werewolves who ran beneath the full light of the moon and howled with their brothers to the stars a million light years away. She allowed herself a small smile; finally, she was alone. Finally, there were no filthy mudbloods vying for her attention or bickering with each other in the classroom, arguing over the correct usage of Gillyweed or whatever the hell it was they were talking about. Oh, how she wished she could shove some Gillyweed down their throats and watch them gasp for air with their gills flapping aimlessly, effectively drowning in a room full of nothing but air--
Crash. Adrienne jumped, quickly cutting off the light of her wand, searching for whatever had made the noise. Nothing was readily visible to her gaze; much as she strained her eyes, there was nothing to be seen. She made a growling noise deep in her throat and backed up slowly, eyes still trained on the darkness ahead of her, through her brain futilely tried to inform her that there was no danger. Hah. Her brain clearly knew nothing, hence the reason she oftentimes chose to ignore it completely. There was something up there. Even if it was just a cat, or an owl, or a stray gust of wind, or a confused first year, there was something. And it was probably dangerous. Creatures that went bump in the night tended to border on the dangerous side, though if it were a confused first year it probably wouldn't pose much of a problem for Adrienne. She ate first years for breakfast, and they were fantastic. They weren't much of a challenge, though, and that was a bit of a shame. She liked proving her strength on her worth on people a little bit more powerful than a first year. Angela Selwyn wouldn't approve of her beating up on petty first years, though Adrienne tried her hand at people her own age, and most often those who were older than her.
Adrienne walked back to the Common Room anyway. There was really no point in being caught out of bed in the middle of the night if there wasn't going to be a fight involved. She was, in fact, a little bit disappointed--but hey, those things happened. If she was going to get a detention, she might as well get a detention for hexing a damn Hufflepuff in the hall. But then again, Liam Donahue was a Hufflepuff, and a prefect, and he seemed somewhat okay. He was an exception, though. But so confusing. And all that she had thought about how she was unnecessarily cruel and the thoughts of her brother and sister (blood traitors, the both of them, but what if they were right?) and everything that had happened andandand--god, she was so confused. It made her head hurt. It wasn't worth thinking of anyways, especially so late at night. Questions of morality were best left for mulling over beneath the sun.
She wasn't alone when she reached the Common Room, though she tried to make it to the stairs without being noticed. It didn't work. Being sneaky and subtle wasn't one of Adrienne's strengths, after all. Can I help you? It was a boy's voice. A familiar boy's voice. Adrienne smiled and stepped into the light, sweeping her red hair over her shoulder and tilting her head slightly to the side to regard Kale Fontaine, fellow fifth year. "My, my, you do not look good at all," she said, eyeing the boy's pale, sweaty face. "Maybe you ought to sit farther away from the fire. Might burn your eyebrows off." That would be a shame; he was kind of pretty. Wouldn't want to ruin a face like that. She walked towards him, hand on her hip. "You out here for a reason?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Did the poor baby have a nightmare?" Rumor had it that he had quite a few of those, and she wasn't ashamed to say she had believed it wholeheartedly.
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