ladyaliciaaa
Member
I am called:
caroline chalk.
But you can call me:
carol!
These are the number of candles I had blown:
twenty-two.
This is what I am:
female, straight.
Here I am:
View attachment 155682
"shit. did i forget to water the plants?"
This is what I look like:
the short girl's pale skin contrasts comfortably with her glossy midnight hair, which she carefully teases at the ends so that they bounce with each step. brightly painted lips are one of her distinguished traits as well as an odd choice of clothing, whether it be mismatched socks or clashing colours. caroline is unconventional, she knows it and embraces it. an angled jawline and elegant bone structure garners the attention of many, her profile is often shrouded with a quizzical knit of her brows. the woman always seems to look hassled.
she does not like her dark brown eyes and thinks they are far too common a colour and whenever chalk smiles it looks like she's squinting at the sun. her youthful features give the impression of being nineteen. they are the bringers of admiration and also the seed from which sprouts a plant, blinding green with jealousy.
with a slender body that lacks any proof of physical exertion carol is doted upon, she doesn't mind it.
despite her fragile look carol chalk emits an air of superiority in the way she tilts her chin minutely upwards and the constant insistence on doing things the way she wants.
I told you I can handle this:
Persuasive
Confident
Dependable
Blunt
Collected
Help me:
Egotistical
Head-strong
Volatile
Physically weak
Complex
View attachment 155692
"i can never leave the house without my sunnies. also i don't know what i was looking at."
They say that I am like this:
perpetually bursting at the seams with life, usually with a spring in her step and occasionally falls into bouts of unsociableness and that is when she is the most bitter over..everything really. otherwise carol is lovely and lively. thriving off of other's adoration like a flower in bloom. the woman is incredibly particular about her appearance, meticulously checking her hair in shop windows and weaving dainty fingers through stray tangles.
as an art model she is flexible and focused, with a long attention span it is no wonder people choose to confide in caroline. sometimes she decides that her life is remarkably unremarkable, and stays up long hours partying, or furiously eating through classic romance novels and watching film noir movies whilst curled up with her beloved cat.
she is known to be a hopeless romantic, carol is unable to stay single for long, only to be dumped once they realise what they've gotten themselves into. she's right as rain the week after.
they say that she is arrogant and single-minded. that she is quirky and wild and overwhelming.
-not that carol cares
These are the bridges I had crossed:
only recently settled into Rockcliffe Bay, it's a shocker that such a girl like her would wind up in such a quaint place. but caroline was always the one for surprises.
perhaps she desired a change of scenery from the crowded metropolis of Silverfield. but really all the woman wanted was to start on her own path, free from her past mistakes. rockcliffe bay is her new beginning.
before the goodbyes and before the two day drive, caroline chalk had just graduated university with a biology degree and crazy obsessed with all things green and growing. it was only until the end of university when it dawned on her. she didn't particularly like the idea of becoming a scientist....she used to...but it wasn't the same now.
not after her brother got sick, and not after their parents re-married. things were different. and carol had to go. running was always the girl's first option, that was when she could forget.
phone calls were exchanged. angry crackling words come from the receiver 'come back.' and 'where are you! you've been gone for too long,' and 'you're an adult for god's sake. don't think you can just leave like that.' but the worst was when they mentioned her brother. she doesn't mention him to anyone, ever, because then the awful feeling would come. and she hated that.
she's here now and has taken to modelling for a small art class.
though caroline would really like to be a landscaper. you know? making people's gardens look pretty? after rockcliffe bay grows tiring she's thinking of going away again, perhaps somewhere with less lakes and more fields. somewhere to put down roots semi-permanently. right now, she is focused on living in the now.
her past was long left behind.
"that's my surprised face. my ex was a pretty good photographer."
Some other extra things:
plants are her thing. she names her plants.
has many friends but makes no real ties.
someday wants to change her last name because it's her fathers and he's a manipulative, lying coward.
adores her cat. ask about her cat.
the choking smell of her cigarettes are masked by incense and blossom scented perfume.
has a tattoo on her ankle purely because she wanted one that looked pretty.
touches hair a lot when nervous.
conspiracy theory:
heck, everyone whispers about jack's house and caroline has her doubts about it. just the mention sends the hairs on her arms to stand, she thinks someone needs to tear that place down. she thinks it's no use to keep it there when it's a perfectly fine place to re-build something else..something that doesn't scare the shit out of her. well, obviously that island couldn't possible be haunted, carol doesn't believe it but sometimes in the middle of the night carol lies awake and the thoughts that swarm her head say otherwise.
although chalk denies any opinion upon the subject, she really believes there's a psychotic murderer living amongst them. someone who is smart enough to have kept their identity a secret.
she observes that the town holds plenty of twisted, dark secrets..that the woman hopes will never be revealed.
"lacey (my cat) was mid-pounce whilst i was testing out the timer function on my new camera. she knocked over a perfume bottle. the little monster reeked of lemons for three whole weeks."
Writing Sample:
As treading water and splashing arms does make a person very hungry.
Nelly keeps her brow from furrowing at what Hebrecht mentioned. Instead the girl settles her gaze on the beach-goers trickling away from the sunless sand, absent from warmth. In order to keep her mind off of food and the phrases screeching from grating metal. Her lips turn ever so slightly upward in thanks, when direction is given from Helbrecht on handling the blade. Once he stops, she corrects him.
_____
"I'll have you know, if you intend to act so..impudently, here is not the place to do so." Comes the nonchalant reply, as her head swivels away from the mercenary, roughly chopped hair bounce at the movement. The tip of her cigarette glows bright as she sucks down nearly a quarter of it in one go. It gives her something to do besides contemplate Eric's to-the-point explanation. Friday's were a hell of busy days for ring fights. Had the entire city come out to beat each other's faces today?
It wouldn't be surprising to spot someone she knew here - certainly enough of Marcella's friendships had been made in such places, but fortunately her path had not crossed with any of her comrades so far. Otherwise, it would be incredibly bothersome and incredibly frustrating. She'd prefer them not to witness such a humiliating defeat against the stuck up bastard.
Teeth fly from a man's jaw, and the crowd roars!, thank god the private hadn't gone so far as to punch there, or surely and most certainly there'd be consequences. "I've got money on six teeth this fight,"
Bright and brassy is the voice coming from behind the pair, Marcella huffs a laugh through her nose at that. The attacker's stance was already off-balance, the entire weight of her body pitching forward with the movement.
"Six teeth my arse," Marcella's voice grates as she turns to search for the source of the voice.
caroline chalk.
But you can call me:
carol!
These are the number of candles I had blown:
twenty-two.
This is what I am:
female, straight.
Here I am:
View attachment 155682
"shit. did i forget to water the plants?"
This is what I look like:
the short girl's pale skin contrasts comfortably with her glossy midnight hair, which she carefully teases at the ends so that they bounce with each step. brightly painted lips are one of her distinguished traits as well as an odd choice of clothing, whether it be mismatched socks or clashing colours. caroline is unconventional, she knows it and embraces it. an angled jawline and elegant bone structure garners the attention of many, her profile is often shrouded with a quizzical knit of her brows. the woman always seems to look hassled.
she does not like her dark brown eyes and thinks they are far too common a colour and whenever chalk smiles it looks like she's squinting at the sun. her youthful features give the impression of being nineteen. they are the bringers of admiration and also the seed from which sprouts a plant, blinding green with jealousy.
with a slender body that lacks any proof of physical exertion carol is doted upon, she doesn't mind it.
despite her fragile look carol chalk emits an air of superiority in the way she tilts her chin minutely upwards and the constant insistence on doing things the way she wants.
I told you I can handle this:
Persuasive
Confident
Dependable
Blunt
Collected
Help me:
Egotistical
Head-strong
Volatile
Physically weak
Complex
View attachment 155692
"i can never leave the house without my sunnies. also i don't know what i was looking at."
They say that I am like this:
perpetually bursting at the seams with life, usually with a spring in her step and occasionally falls into bouts of unsociableness and that is when she is the most bitter over..everything really. otherwise carol is lovely and lively. thriving off of other's adoration like a flower in bloom. the woman is incredibly particular about her appearance, meticulously checking her hair in shop windows and weaving dainty fingers through stray tangles.
as an art model she is flexible and focused, with a long attention span it is no wonder people choose to confide in caroline. sometimes she decides that her life is remarkably unremarkable, and stays up long hours partying, or furiously eating through classic romance novels and watching film noir movies whilst curled up with her beloved cat.
she is known to be a hopeless romantic, carol is unable to stay single for long, only to be dumped once they realise what they've gotten themselves into. she's right as rain the week after.
they say that she is arrogant and single-minded. that she is quirky and wild and overwhelming.
-not that carol cares
These are the bridges I had crossed:
only recently settled into Rockcliffe Bay, it's a shocker that such a girl like her would wind up in such a quaint place. but caroline was always the one for surprises.
perhaps she desired a change of scenery from the crowded metropolis of Silverfield. but really all the woman wanted was to start on her own path, free from her past mistakes. rockcliffe bay is her new beginning.
before the goodbyes and before the two day drive, caroline chalk had just graduated university with a biology degree and crazy obsessed with all things green and growing. it was only until the end of university when it dawned on her. she didn't particularly like the idea of becoming a scientist....she used to...but it wasn't the same now.
not after her brother got sick, and not after their parents re-married. things were different. and carol had to go. running was always the girl's first option, that was when she could forget.
phone calls were exchanged. angry crackling words come from the receiver 'come back.' and 'where are you! you've been gone for too long,' and 'you're an adult for god's sake. don't think you can just leave like that.' but the worst was when they mentioned her brother. she doesn't mention him to anyone, ever, because then the awful feeling would come. and she hated that.
she's here now and has taken to modelling for a small art class.
though caroline would really like to be a landscaper. you know? making people's gardens look pretty? after rockcliffe bay grows tiring she's thinking of going away again, perhaps somewhere with less lakes and more fields. somewhere to put down roots semi-permanently. right now, she is focused on living in the now.
her past was long left behind.
"that's my surprised face. my ex was a pretty good photographer."
Some other extra things:
plants are her thing. she names her plants.
has many friends but makes no real ties.
someday wants to change her last name because it's her fathers and he's a manipulative, lying coward.
adores her cat. ask about her cat.
the choking smell of her cigarettes are masked by incense and blossom scented perfume.
has a tattoo on her ankle purely because she wanted one that looked pretty.
touches hair a lot when nervous.
conspiracy theory:
heck, everyone whispers about jack's house and caroline has her doubts about it. just the mention sends the hairs on her arms to stand, she thinks someone needs to tear that place down. she thinks it's no use to keep it there when it's a perfectly fine place to re-build something else..something that doesn't scare the shit out of her. well, obviously that island couldn't possible be haunted, carol doesn't believe it but sometimes in the middle of the night carol lies awake and the thoughts that swarm her head say otherwise.
although chalk denies any opinion upon the subject, she really believes there's a psychotic murderer living amongst them. someone who is smart enough to have kept their identity a secret.
she observes that the town holds plenty of twisted, dark secrets..that the woman hopes will never be revealed.
"lacey (my cat) was mid-pounce whilst i was testing out the timer function on my new camera. she knocked over a perfume bottle. the little monster reeked of lemons for three whole weeks."
Writing Sample:
- It was nearing the time in which the tides began to rise, the sun had hidden itself behind rolling rush of white and streaks of cotton candy pink. Stirring and curling into a dragon, an off-kilter spoon digging into a bowl of honey curd. The sun, a spotlight of golden glow. Nelly wondered if they had already skipped lunch. With a half mind and a pair of eyes on the knight's words and the other half meandering on trivial topics such as meals and how many hours it was which she had last consumed food.
As treading water and splashing arms does make a person very hungry.
Nelly keeps her brow from furrowing at what Hebrecht mentioned. Instead the girl settles her gaze on the beach-goers trickling away from the sunless sand, absent from warmth. In order to keep her mind off of food and the phrases screeching from grating metal. Her lips turn ever so slightly upward in thanks, when direction is given from Helbrecht on handling the blade. Once he stops, she corrects him.
_____
"I'll have you know, if you intend to act so..impudently, here is not the place to do so." Comes the nonchalant reply, as her head swivels away from the mercenary, roughly chopped hair bounce at the movement. The tip of her cigarette glows bright as she sucks down nearly a quarter of it in one go. It gives her something to do besides contemplate Eric's to-the-point explanation. Friday's were a hell of busy days for ring fights. Had the entire city come out to beat each other's faces today?
It wouldn't be surprising to spot someone she knew here - certainly enough of Marcella's friendships had been made in such places, but fortunately her path had not crossed with any of her comrades so far. Otherwise, it would be incredibly bothersome and incredibly frustrating. She'd prefer them not to witness such a humiliating defeat against the stuck up bastard.
Teeth fly from a man's jaw, and the crowd roars!, thank god the private hadn't gone so far as to punch there, or surely and most certainly there'd be consequences. "I've got money on six teeth this fight,"
Bright and brassy is the voice coming from behind the pair, Marcella huffs a laugh through her nose at that. The attacker's stance was already off-balance, the entire weight of her body pitching forward with the movement.
"Six teeth my arse," Marcella's voice grates as she turns to search for the source of the voice.
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