Violet Aurelia Sinclair

[violet]

001. NAME• Violet Aurelia Sinclair
002. NICKNAME• Vi, Lettie
003. AGE• 19
004. BIRTHDATE• November 1, 1990
005. WHERE YOU LIVE?• Whyalla, Australia

001. YOUR FACE• Emma Watson
002. HAIR• Wispy waves of an almost golden brown hair fly about in a near constant state of controlled dishevelment. Elegant in its own way, it is usually pulled into a messy bun if not floating freely about her face and only a few inches past her shoulders.
003. EYES• Rich, warm, and entirely inviting, they are the beautiful brown of cocoa laced with cinnamon in a ring of black.
004. HIEGHT• 5'6”
005. WEIGHT• 143
006. BODY MODS• The only piercings she has are two hoops in the cartilage of her left ear.
007. FASHION/STYLE• She prefers comfort over looks but does quite a good job of pairing the two with her designer sweaters and blouses, though they are almost always paired with a nice pair of jeans and tennis shoes. She has been known to whip out the skirts and heels should she so choose, but it is rare and not without good reason.

001. LIKES•
-=-Natural Tones
-=-Books
-=-Any Candy That Is Fruity
-=-Solitude
-=-Boots
-=-Quiet Time
-=-Violin Music
-=-Calm People
-=-Cats
-=-Control
-=-Your Mom Jokes
002. DISLIKES•
-=-Television
-=-Change
-=-Not Being In Control
-=-Driving
-=-Idiots
-=-Bullies
-=-Dogs
-=-Messes
-=-People that vomit sunshine and rainbows
-=-Chaos
003. FEARS•
-=-Deer
-=-Losing All Control Over Her Life
-=-Angry/Mean People
-=-Storms
-=-Dying Alone
-=-An Unaccomplished Life
004. STRENGTHS•
-=-Perspective
-=-Integrity
-=-Intellect
-=-Independent
-=-Open-minded
005. WEAKNESSES•
-=-Kittens
-=-Blankets
-=-Self-Esteem
-=-Overly Sensitive
-=-Temper
006. ODDITIES•
-Is so tone deaf her teacher bribed her to not sing in music class
-Soda cans make her cringe
-She mutters to herself a lot
-She talks to her cat and though she has yet to receive any answers, she will talk for her
007. ORIENTATION• Quite into girls, but she sees it as a non-issue so don't expect embarrassment, hasty explanations, or anything less than composure and nonchalance when the topic is brought up.
008. SPECIFIC MORALS• Just be the best you can be and live a life you'd be proud of. That's all she strives for.
009. PERSONALITY OVERVIEW•
Not particularly verbose for the most part, Violet is seen as a calm and composed individual with little to no distinguishable traits aside from the fact that she comes across as leading a boring life. This in fact is false and should you ask, she will gladly tell you so. While yes, on the outside she tries for coolness, on the inside and when alone she is anything but. Easily hurt, Violet often finds herself in a downward spiral of self-doubt and pity, mostly where others opinions of her are concerned. Perfection is not easily obtained and she has not yet come to the full realization of that fact.

She enjoys silence and the feeling of calm she gets when surrounded by the lack of sound. The television irks her because it not only makes sounds, but it is to her a box of chaos. Sure, you can flip the channel, but other than that, there is no control there. With a book, she can take things at her pace, read them over, put them down for even months at a time and return to them. And there is a book for every emotion, experience, and fantasy, as opposed to the television which is just so... impersonal. So with her books and her cat she is quite content to sit among her tons of blankets and read. Should she interact with a human, the composure rarely slips without good reason. A lively, intellectual discussion is appreciated, though if it escalates she finds herself afraid. You see, chaos, disorder, mess of any kind, scare her. Because that means a lack of control, and Violet Sinclair is the world's biggest control freak.

001. PARENT ONE• Lilith Marie Sinclair, 44, Emergency Room Nurse
002. PARENT TWO• Maximilian Joseph Sinclair, 47, Pilot
003. SIBLINGS• None.
004. PETS• Alice, an orange tabby cat that is a known biter and all around demon.
005. HISTORY OVERVIEW•

Normalcy was what defined the early childhood of Violet Sinclair. Born to a nurse and a pilot fresh from their honeymoon one would think she'd have been a bother, but her parents couldn't have been more pleased. They showered her with all the love and attention a newborn could need and then some. While some children would have been spoiled by all the attention she found herself receiving, Violet was puzzled by it. Unable to comprehend the feelings and and insecurities that buzzed in her head, she merely pushed them away and continued on with her ideal childhood.

From the second she got into the car after her first day of school it was obvious she had found something she truly loved. On and on she babbled as children do, explaining every bit of her day and just how much she had enjoyed it. She found the alphabet taped to the wall intriguing and worked all night on spelling her name just as teacher had shown her. The praise and encouragement she received from her parents pushed her to work harder, learn more words, improve her handwriting, and do whatever it took to be on top. Because when she was on top, even the teachers praised her. This she could understand. That annoying buzzing in the back of her head, those damn questions that floated about her ever since she was little, they faded away but were not forgotten. And it took a night of extreme pondering to know why. In her mind, it was just questioning the validity of her parents' affection. Obviously it felt odd because she hadn't <i>earned</i> it! Now she was working hard and being the best. That was why it felt so genuine. She had earned their love. They weren't pretending any more.

What she failed to see then was that they were the seeds of self-doubt. The beginning of an inner conflict that constantly had her feeling the need to validate herself, and feeling flawed and worthless when she couldn't.

That little matter solved for the time being, Violet knew what she had to do. As the years went by her work ethic only increased. It had become an obsession. In all actuality she was probably an average student, but her love for learning and passion for earning love had her studying into all hours of the night, working on every assignment like a madwoman because good people stayed on top. Good people were the best in class and good people had complete control. But it was in high school that she felt she the inklings of that doubt creeping back upon her. Yes, she was the best, easily, but was it enough? Was she doing all she could to make her parents love her, and now her friends like her? She was sure she could do more. Of course there was more. Now in her Sophomore year of high school Violet found a job on top of all her studies. It was simple, part-time, but it suited her perfectly. She worked in a small bookshop right down the road from her house and used the money to buy presents, pay her own bills, and whatever else she felt needed done. Finally she was back to earning her keep.

It happened senior year, a month before graduation. That was the day she snapped.

She had been taking a test in her Literature class. One of the easiest by far, and a subject she was good at without all the extra studying, though she did it any way. But towards the end, only a few questions to go, she had to stop. The question she was on should have been simple. It should have been as mindless as all the ones before it and from the looks of things all the ones after it too. But it wasn't, and try as she might, she couldn't make it click. She froze and her breathing quickened as she stared at the offensive group of words. Without a sound she was on the floor, shaking with silent sobs. The sadness came from so deep within her, she felt consumed by it. What would she do now? She failed. That was it. She was a failure now no one would love her or want her and she deserved that. She wasn't good. The dam had broken and the feelings overwhelmed her in one fell swoop.

The final month had been spent in home, her diploma mailed to her. Rather than go to college, she continued to work at the bookshop. Her social life is mostly nonexistent, aside from her daily banters with her cat and short conversations with her parents. Mostly she's left to herself, trying to regain the control she lost and pick up the pieces of her life. So far she's doing well, she can cry and allow herself to be weak with the help of misters Ben and Jerry. She can interact with others on a mostly normal basis. But all it takes is a word or two and down she goes.

Yo', my name is Mary, and I've been the walking dead for 18 years, and I've been grave robbing for 6 years, I dug up lovely Crimson Kiss by means of Joelle and adore it.

001. ANYTHING ELSE?• Alice is real. And she is eating my foot.
002. ROLE PLAY SAMPLE•
“Stupid, no good, shortsighted, overbearing, egotistical, tyrannical…” The angry insults faded into the afternoon air, much as the mist that she wandered through, as Yayoi angrily kicked at rocks. Once her words had simmered down to an angry buzzing in her head, Yayoi stopped to actually see where she was. And despite the anger that coursed through her, she had to smile. Of course her feet would take her here. It was the one place she knew she would never be judged, hated, or insulted. The one place she felt truly loved.

“Mio…” The name rolled easily off her tongue, and the affection she felt for said name was obvious as her features softened. As she stood in the dimming light of the day, looking up at the window where she knew her companion was waiting, Yayoi’s soft smile hardened. There was a reason for her agitated state.

Despite the sense of calmness that had filled her, a sigh had been building up in her, and she released it, almost surprised at how dejected it sounded. It stung to know just how much her mother had gotten to her, and how hurt she felt by her words. She let the utter feeling of despair settle about her as she made her way to the entrance of her sanctuary.

There was no need to knock, she never did, so she just walked in. Upon entering, she did pause, as she always did when she entered this grand place. In that pause she took in the smell, the sight, the feeling of the place, and Yayoi could feel the anger and gloom melting. After her ritualistic moment, she removed her warn tennis shoes and proceeded to the interior of the house, waving at anyone she came across. They all knew her here, and as far as she knew, they had accepted her.

The journey to her final destination could have been made in her sleep, and to prove this she expertly ascended the stairs silently. Every creaking board had been memorized, every stair counted. When the door was reached, a smile graced her features once again.

Again she spoke the name that had the power to almost instantly calm her, this time loud enough for the other girl to hear as Yayoi opened the door and lightly stepped in. “Mio.” It made Yayoi happy to see her friend in what looked to be a relaxed state. But the twinge of inferiority flashed quickly through her, as it did every time she came here. Her own clothes were well worn and faded, and her current attire of a simple white tank top and baggy cargo shorts, in her eyes, couldn’t be compared to even Mio’s pyjamas.

Ah well. That wasn’t why she was here, and Mio did not need to know about her mother-instilled inferiority complex. So instead she smiled and tossed a rather squished candy bar at her that she had just found in her pocket.