Sylvie.>>Done!

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001. NAME• Sylvina Marianne Potts.
002. NICKNAME• Not once has she introduced herself as Sylvina, it’s always Sylvie. Always.
003. AGE•Twenty years young.
004. BIRTHDATE• November 26, 1989.
005. WHERE YOU LIVE?• Paris, baby. London was where she grew up, and she often visits her parents there.

001. YOUR FACE• FurtiveLungs
002. HAIR•

• Sylvie’s hair; which is light chocolate in color has bangs which wrap from the left to the right side of her forehead. All while blending into the layered composition that is her Haircut; from the base of her skull, the first layer only reaches her ear. The rest of it is a choppy mess that takes five minutes to arrange on a lazy morning. This just passes her shoulders. More than often, she’ll just comb her hair to the side and wrap it in a tight bun or a ponytail.

003. EYES•

• Long, dark lashes frame her grey eyes, which bleed into silver as they reach the pupil. Those lashes make her wide set eyes appear larger than they are.

004. HIEGHT• 5”7’
005. WEIGHT• 125 lb / Roughly 56 kg
006. BODY MODS•

• To be honest, Sylvie is a chicken shit with no tolerance for pain in mostly any way. So the only piercings she has are her ears so far. She couldn’t stand just sitting in a chair while someone stuck a big ole needle through her fleshy bits. Not even mention cut her skin and stick ink into it.

007. FASHION/STYLE•

• Fashion? She has headbands and converse galore. Not to mention every color jacket and t-shirt under the big blue sky. Needless to say she dresses for comfort. No heels or little black dresses. No pantyhose, stockings, guarders; anything like that. She’ll take a comfortable, broken-in pair of jeans and slap a scarf on. Her jeans, the ones she wears all the time, have so many holes in them that you’d wonder if she’s destitute. But she isn’t, she could go out and buy new jeans if she wanted to. Only she hates to shop.

001. LIKES•

• Her job.
  
• Money.
  
• Booze.
  
• Drugs: any kind. Weather you smoke it, buy it in a small orange bottle, or a Ziploc bag, even rolling up your last dollar bill and snorting it.
  
• Clubbing and parties.
  
• Traveling.
  
• Cigarettes.
  
• The color green.
  
• The number seven.
  
• Farmville on facebook.
  
• Immature jokes.
  
• Star Wars/Trek.
  
• Old movies.
  

002. DISLIKES•

• Large Animals.
  
• Seeing people bleed.
  
• Pain, and knowing that there will be pain coming.
  
• Judgment.
  
• Heights.
  
• Spiders.
  
• Bugs in general.
  
• Dull conversations.
  

003. FEARS•

• Death.
  
• Cars.
  
• Insects/Arachnids.
  
• Getting older.
  
• Blizzards.
  

004. STRENGTHS•

• Money.
  
• Speaking skills.
  
• Sarcasm.
  
• Social adaptability.
  
• Education, and the knowledge of many things.
  

005. WEAKNESSES•

• Drugs.
  
• Alcohol.
  
• Cigarettes.
  
• The bigger, better deal.
  
• Beautiful people.
  

006. ODDITIES•

• Sylvie has to rub her hands together before touching someone else.
  
• She laughs loudly when afraid.
  
• She pays attention to detail, and everything has to be in it's place. Especially in her apartment, she cannot handle disorder.
  
• Smiles insanely big when threatened.
  

007. ORIENTATION• Bisexual.
008. SPECIFIC MORALS• N/A
009. PERSONALITY OVERVIEW• For Sylvie, it isn’t about the next fix. Though she may be an addict of many sorts, there is the daytime, and nighttime life that she leads. They never overlap. She refuses to let them, and in doing so can keep her composure until the sun sets and her addiction tries to claw its way out of her belly. She figures that since she has as much willpower as she does, she can keep her life in check. Her mother was an optimist, and taught her that though things may look and feel like shit, you can always pick up and get on with your life. She’ll do anything that anyone asks, never asking for anything in return because she is generous and kind. Until that first hit, or that first drink. Then her inhibitions are let go. And what feels like the weight of the world pushes down on her shoulders, pressuring her to take just one more. Just one more and everything would be all right, just one more.
But she never complains, just smiles and acts like the world is only full of only roses. No thorns. Because deep down, she knows the world is a cruel son of a bitch. And no one, absolutely no one can be trusted.

001. PARENT ONE•Jacob Ray Potts, Owner of Jake's Pub in Greenwich Borough, England.
002. PARENT TWO•
Samantha Jane Evans-Potts, Co-Owner of Jake's Pub in Greenwich Borough, England.
003. SIBLINGS•
None.
004. PETS•
A Bengal Cat named Nala. She has silver, black spotted fur with a white belly, and enjoys laying on Sylvie's face when she sleeps.
005. HISTORY OVERVIEW•

Mm, where to begin, where to begin? I guess we could start at the beginning; Sylvie’s childhood. Not much happened during her childhood, just a bunch of riffraff; watching her father from the window in his office, making drinking for old times’ sake, while his wife watched with a disapproving look. The sounds of verbal abuse coming from the room next door in the small apartment that she had lived in. Her parents seemed to fight often, but Sylvie was much too young to care. Bits and pieces come together here and there; her first bike, with its rusted spokes and worn out wheels. At her tenth birthday party: a small mishap concerning a set of rollerblades and a large cake broke her mother’s arm. Not much to remember until her early teen years. When she had tried her first drink.

It wasn’t much, a rum and coke mix from a small cup at her friends’ home. His parent’s were out on holiday and Sylvie had told hers that she was staying at someone else’s. Usual tricks from pesky and otherwise unruly teenagers. It had burned going down, and she felt like tossing her fucking cookies. But then... Well then she began to feel good, the world felt like it was swimming and Sylvie had another drink, then another; until the world went black and she woke up the next morning, only to worship the porcelain goddess not five minutes later. Drugs had come next, some weed here, coke there. Nothing much, she had enjoyed drinking more.

When her parents started asking Sylvie where she went at night, she lied. Lied about stealing booze and money from her parents’ bar, lied about staying at her boyfriend Jim’s and that they’d been having sex for months. She lied, and lied, and lied. And told them nothing. She told her parents that it was really none of their damned business, because they should trust her more. I mean for gods sakes; she was Seventeen. She went to school, and found it dull. Then she found her calling: bartending. I mean it’s not like she hadn’t grown up knowing the recipe for almost any drink and how to make it. Her parents were owners of a bar, damnit.

Longish story short, she moved to Paris and got a job bartending, lives in an apartment with her cat Nala, dumped her long distance boyfriend and got a new haircut. Life was good for a change, and Sylvie hopes it will stay like that. She wouldn’t let her life go to shit without a fight.

Yo', my name is Deviiin, and I've been the walking dead for eighteen years, and I've been grave robbing for about sixish years, I dug up lovely Crimson Kiss by means of affiliates on some other random proboards and adore it.

001. ANYTHING ELSE?• Mm.. I have no idea, nothing comes to mind.. So nope!
002. ROLE PLAY SAMPLE•
Taken from my other character Rae from Zouge No Tou.
I’ve edited it some.

Some people say that money can't buy you happiness. Some people also say that dogs can't look up (which they can). But Rae finds that with just the right amount of credits can buy your way into the most exclusive clubs, get you the right kind of drugs, and bypass certain friendly guards that are protecting a particular entrance to the Under city. With its molding, cracked buildings and soiled ground. Whose children are starving and parents are off to fend for themselves. A place where the horrid Kyuu run rampant and the soldiers dictate who lives and who well.. You get the picture. Yes, it was easy to get into the under city, for Rae anyway. The trick now was to maneuver through the workings most foul and to get to where she wanted. To the place she had found years before.

But for today it looked like the fates had planned something more eventful, and much, much more dangerous.. "Bitch, who the fuck do you think you are? Two... Three." The sounds of conflict reached her, and Rae certainly liked a good fight. But a gunshot rang through the streets, the sounds bouncing off of the walls in an eerie echo that shook Rae to the core. Her hands trembled; a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Who was shooting? A soldier or a Under city civilian?

Grubby little children scurried around her while she weaved through to the ally, intrigued by what the residence only saw as common. Gun shots in public when there are many of the so called Kyuu wouldn't be so unwelcome if she had lived here.

And as the rats scurried about her metal tipped boots, her heels clicked along the uneven pavement on the way to the source of the shot; an ally of course, the text book description of shady doings; a woman, a soldier perhaps, was standing, gun resting on her neck while a yellowed-teeth stranger cowered before her wake. This brown haired killer didn't look like much from the back, only her pistol, with its cold steel and metal bullets, seemed menacing. Until, that is, she saw the red pool that surrounded said mystery woman's feet. Rae's face paled, the man whom Mystery woman had shot was on the ground of some no-name ally, face down, his hand reached out toward her killer's foot as in pleading.

A small giggle passed through her, a small one, but audible. Was he trying to plead to his killer before she shot him? How pathetic, at least go out with some sort of dignity... A hand clasped her mouth; cheeks reddening, and her body slipped behind the building more. As to not be seen, of course. What would this killer, with her cold and calculating air about her, do with the man with the yellowing teeth and the shaky hands? Rae's hand dropped to her side. Eyebrows raised, and her teeth tugging at her lips. What would happen to that man, and what would she do with the bodies? Those two certainly weren't Kyuu, and the more she looked at the Mystery woman, the less she looked like a soldier.

Was she a local? Or an Upper citizen, like herself, looking for the thrills of the lower city with its dirt and natural rivers. Had she, too, dreamed of the day in which the upper city was torn down and life once again flourished on the actual earth? When the days of Metal grounds and fake grass were no longer imaginable?

Or was she just looking for the thrill of something illegal. To just kill for the sake of killing.

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