Post by adrienne on Jul 10, 2008 18:15:25 GMT
About you
Name: evie
Age: pretty darn old…seventeen
How to contact you: PM is fine
Role playing experience: Five or more years
Other Characters on this Site: Just this one
About your Character
Name: “My full title would be Lady Adrienne Ophelia Baroque of Burgundy.”
Nickname: “I suppose you could call me Adrienne or Andy, depending on who you are.”
Age: “I’m eighteen years old, and still unmarried. Hell, I’m proud of it.”
Country: “I hail from France.”
Position: “Lady, although not your average one.”
Job: “I'm a professional at being loud mouthed and looking 'beautiful'.”
Eye Color: “Blue, simple enough.”
Hair Color: “Quite pale blonde.”
Height: “I stand around five foot six.”
General Appearance:All her life she has always been the ugly duckling, and was never afraid to admit it. This caused for her lack of every becoming vain or obsessed with her appearance. Adrienne has openly accepted the fact that she will never be the most beautiful woman at court, and willingly embraces the notion. Although she doesn‘t see herself to be some hideous hag, she doesn‘t like to view herself as something all men turn their heads to gaze at when she enters a room. Adrienne likes the fact that she is just mediocre, nothing special, nothing worthless. Besides, every woman likes to be admired for her brains and not her body, right?
Born with hair the color of honey that lay strewn across a wooden table, glinting with strands of sun kissed amber, her hair is her greatest quality. Full and ever flowing to the middle of her back, she is proud of this one feature that she wears down, simply because she is an unmarried woman. Her locks of golden brown are glossy waves that can sometimes even pass as loose curls if they dry quickly. Her hair never seems to frizz, except when it is especially humid during the summers. If the summer sun is permitted to shine upon her heavenly locks, then it causes the strands to accumulate a slightly paler shade. In the winter, when the coldest winds howl against her manor walls, the same strands seem to darken, for they have become starved of sunlight and warmth. Her hair is often neatly arranged about her face, an attempt to make herself look at least presentable before anyone, for she fears becoming a spinster in her later years.
Blessed be the young damsel with optics of cerulean and areas of stormy gray. They are ever moving, shining and sparkling like diamonds cut and polished to perfection. Mirthful gazes are often given to those who are graced with the gaze of the young woman called Adrienne. Warm to those she loves, questioning to strangers, they are the mirror to her secretive soul, a mere glimpse into the heart of a young lady kept under protective layers. She is often seen as a wide eyed child to adults, and often regarded as being ’doe-eyed’, which is a perfect illusion to her ever working mind. Arched eyebrows of honey brown work as expressive partners to her sea hued orbs.
Kissers as plump and vibrant as beach roses await temptingly on the chiseled façade of the mistress. Full and often in coy smirks, men beg to stake their claim on. They are the place were her lovely voice will exit to sing to the eardrums of anyone near. They are where flirtatious whispers will skip, to coo to the lover nearby. And they are also where curses dash out, to chastise whomever has upset her. Never are they covered up with rouge to spoil their natural dark coloring with a vibrant shade of crimson. Behind them, teeth stand straight and erect, like white coated soldiers told to stand to attention. High cheekbones grace the face of Adrienne, slightly sunken cheeks give her a slightly sickly look to her, fashionable for the time. Her nose is pert, and straight as an arrow, and quite small to fit her feline face. Her ears are her embarrassment, they are slightly larger than she would have hoped for, but nothing too noticeable.
Slender and willowy, the young woman holds herself with esteem and grace. Adrienne is a proud figure to see strolling through the gardens of her home or the palace of the king. Delicate, she moves like a swan, with little assertiveness in her step, it is as if she is unsure of herself, as if she knows little of what could happen in the course of a minute. Dainty, she looks frail in comparison to some women, perhaps adding to the feminine charms that she has long kept up her sleeves. Her legs are lengthy, lean and softly muscled, for physical work during her life was unheard of. Her waist is ribbon thin, slender, making her seem breakable. Long has she lingered on the edge of being tall for a woman, but still, she is a head shorter than most men.
Fashion wise, Adrienne mostly wears whatever is up to date, she has long been spoiled by her elder brothers and dons mostly full skirted ensembles. She enjoys wearing lowly cut dresses, feeling as though she needs to show some skin to be seen by men. Jewelry is something she indulges in, as well as rich fabrics of reds, blues, and greens. Shoes are something she isn't too fond of, she sees them as dirty trifles that shouldn't be seen by man kind, rather she hides them beneath her skirts at all times. They are only simple leather things, dyed to match the color of her dresses. If there is a ball, then she indulges in a pair of velvet ones.
Likes:
+_dancing
+_fun
+_adventure
+_reading
+_humor
+_England
+_the ocean
+_sunshine, and rainy days
+_being optimistic
+_witty remarks
+_archery, she’s quite good at it herself
+_horses
+_balls, as in masqueades
+_the color purple
+_roses
+_pretending to be someone she isn’t
+_acting
+_lying
+_fooling with people
Dislikes:
+_arrogance
+_the dark
+_bad breath
+_boredom
+_the thought of marrying
+_the thought of being old
+_being an orphan (somewhat)
+_being alone
+_being a ‘lady’
+_having to impress men
+_constricting clothes
Personality:
What happens to a medieval girl who is well-off, more intelligent than anyone would like, not particularly polite and not particularly feminine?
Apparently she becomes like Adrienne.
Most people would be quite charmed by young Adrienne O‘Neil. For all intents and purposes, she is proper and lady-like. Highly intelligent and a good conversationalist, there is no doubt that she knows how to charm, albeit in her own way. She has fulfilled all requirements that her mother forced on her at a young age: she knows when to laugh, how to flirt, how to hold a flute of champagne and apply a daring scarlet lipstick, that and the million other things one needs for lesser society to call you ‘sophisticated.’ Some might notice that Adrienne has something akin to darkness about her, for all her pretty and innocent talk of art, politics, and lovers. But honestly, Adrienne is quite innocuous. She is well-to-do, well-bred, not altogether unpleasant company. Miss James is a member of a family that is a veritable pillar of society , the aristocracy of their little London town. Perhaps – and only if they were truly observant – people would detect something a little bit off about her. Something is not as it seems.
Miss Adrienne Lynn O’Neil is just a little bit dangerous.
No, she doesn’t keep a handgun strapped to her thigh or stilettos to hold up her hair – though the glamour of such ideas never failed to entertain her – but there is something beneath that veneer. Perhaps it is that her eyes are always guarded. Though they can be wide with innocence, made to sparkle or shine at appropriate times in a conversation, there is something within their depths. It is just underneath the surface, but it is something almost intangible. Usually they dismiss it, but upon long meditation and study of Adrienne, the truly astute might find something almost predatory in her gaze. Despite everything – her friendliness, her apparent graciousness [and grace, for that matter] – there is something decidedly cold about Adrienne. There is a part of her that remains constantly detached, more calculating than merely rational. On a day to day basis, there are never overt shows of passionate emotion; she will charm, she will laugh, but never does she ever let go of that one part of her. One could almost call it stony, icy, stoic – perhaps all three – and yet this doesn’t speak to the subtlety of it as the rigidity. Whether this is something learned or inborn, of course, is anyone’s guess, but the fact remains that she is constantly calm. Poised, perhaps, but less like a dancer and more like a snake.
Perhaps it just comes with her remarkable intelligence. She is not erudite, certainly not an intellectual, and the fact that she is a university student is more indicative of “lack of direction” [or rather, seemly direction] than love of learning. Adrienne is a planner, an excellent strategist, with a formidable memory; one could not call her brilliant, but certainly she is quite bright. Certainly she is always rational, and logical. There is the academic intelligence, and then the people intelligence; Adrienne is far better at the latter. She reads the intentions and motivates of others with barely a glance. Then there is two sides to this: the languid and the constantly active. She is both. Society demands a certain ennui, and she fits into it quite well, but neither does she ever let down her guard, exactly.
Listen closely because this is important: Adrienne is not just three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, and half a measure of Kina Lillet with a large thin slice of lemon peel. She is intelligence, charisma, burning ambition, and ruthlessness, yes, but there is one crucial ingredient which catalyzes it all, and that is a distinct lack of morals. This, is, of course, how she has come upon her nickname ‘Sin”. The black and white view of right and wrong are either entirely beyond her or decidedly beneath her. Adrienne does what she says or believes to be necessary – though whether it is for her survival or simply for her entertainment is a matter of debate – but often this entails the morally dubious. The woman does live by some sort of a code, that that isn’t exactly ‘ethics,’ really. It operates quite simply: there is a constant exchange. There is give, and there is take. She expects favors in return, or at least some sort of reciprocation. She is loyal until it is no longer useful to be as such [though she is always quite overt about her schisms from others]. Don’t call what she does courage; it is strength, and self-control. She does this all with a sort of clean efficiency that can be, on occasion, chilling.
The only word that could describe that is ‘selfish,’ but that is such a petty, childish, word when Adrienne is self-interested. Admittedly there are quite childish aspects of her. In certain senses she is quite self-indulgent and materialistic. Despite the decadence and self-indulgence that embodies her lifestyle, there are some aspects that are restricted. She will drink socially, but has yet to pick up a cigarette or become hooked on any other drugs. She has never shot a man in Reno just to watch him die, and Adrienne isn’t exactly a sadist. Miss Baroque does have standards. If Adrienne embodies anything it is elegance – class, perhaps. Though the ugly and the vulgar constantly surrounds her, she always – perhaps in a rather supercilious way – keeps herself constantly above it. She finds the beauty in everything, but don’t get that confused with kindness or optimism.
The other part of the code? Cross her and die.
People are instinctively drawn to Adrienne, no matter how destructive fealty to her might be. Something about her [perhaps it is her voice, or her eyes, or her stance] makes her a compelling woman, someone that people listen to and follow without question.
Adrienne, though gracious, is decidedly unkind. She is vindictive and cruel, often in a cold or merely blasé way, sometimes because she feels that the occasion requires it, and other times because it is merely her nature. Manipulative to the core and quite the actress, the only thing certain about her is this: that nothing that she does is without reason. She always has an agenda or goal of some sort, and the fact of the matter is that she will do anything to achieve it.
And she truly does mean anything. Adrienne is extremely determined; combined with her various skills, power, and complete lack of scruples, she is unstoppable – or so she likes to seem.
Family:
Lord Godfrey, Duke of Burgundy, father, 54, currently in the Holy Land
Lady Sybilla, Duchess of Burgundy, mother, died at 24 due to birth of Adrienne.
Background:
“I don‘t suppose I like to tell sob stories, but it turns out that my life is quite the large mess. You see, I‘m the kind of girl that everyone wants to have, but nobody wants around. It‘s complicated, you see? I guess I could start telling you who I am. I, Lady Adrienne Ophelia Baroque, am the sole remaining heir to the duchy of Burgundy. And it is my job to be married off as quickly as possible. Well, as soon as my father returns from the Holy Land. If he returns. If not, these affairs will be settled by my mother’s brother.
I was born across the sea, in Burgundy. I am of English and French blood, bred to be the son of a wealthy noble. Unfortunately, I was born without a male body and a male mind. Instead, my mother, Sybilla, a English noblewoman, was too weak after giving birth to me. So, she passed days after my birth and I was given to a nanny to care for. Although my father was disappointed that I wasn’t a boy, he took to me quite quickly. I was a silent babe, rarely crying, simply in awe of the world. I’m sure he wishes I stayed that quiet. My father, Lord Godfrey, rather Duke Godfrey, was called upon by the king of France to travel to the Holy Land. It was his duty. And I was only seven at the time.
Although it was hard for him to leave me, he did. And instead of endangering my status in France, he sent me abroad with to live with my mother’s brother, an uncle I did not know of. I was small at the time, terrified of the English world. I didn’t speak a word in their tongue until I was tutored by my uncle’s wife. She was stern enough to scare me, but kind enough to provoke me to learn her language. I was a quick learner and a tough student. But I found something I enjoyed far more than studying. Of course, we had horses in Burgundy, but I practically fell in love with the sport here. They had been bred to perfection, and ran faster than any of my father’s heavier drafts. I took up archery when I was ten years old. This was considered a sport for ladies, and I guess it wasn’t as bad as sitting inside.
Of course, I aged. Although I am not considered old, I believe that my father would have preferred me to married by now. Still, men continue to court me, although I don’t have favor for any of them. They don’t see me as a human, just a title. And I don’t think I like that very much. So, I’m doing everything within my power to deter them, my bad manners and such.”
Anything else: nope. :]
Face Claim: Blake Lively
RP Sample: A diamond was rare amongst a bed of coals. For, if there were too many diamonds, than they would become quite dull, and coal would be prized, right? It is the same thing with sweets. If one has too much, one is bound to grow tiresome of these delicacies. But for Bella, her moments of escape from the camp were always as sweet as the first. She savored each moment, for sooner or later, she knew that she would be hunted down like a missing child and dragged back to confinement kicking and screaming. Oh, how she loved the freedoms of the outside world. Of course, she didn't actually mind slaving night and day over meals to cook for a group of rambunctious men, but the enjoyment of doing what she wanted, that was truely enjoyable. Never had Bella held material things in much appreciation, but cherishing moments, that was what she desired greatly. Long ago, she had been robbed of a normal family life. But she owed those muitious murders more than she would ever admit.
Her hair was pulled back from her face, the thick aubrun cords were held stiffly in a high ponytail. Supple leather boots were concealed beneath a pale green dress that clung to her feminine figure in certain places. Wrapped about her shoulders was a cloak of a darker green, woven out of the last thing she had from her homeland, lovely wool. Of course, she looked more like an Irish girl, minus the tell-tale freckles and thick accent. Instead, her features were more feline, less hardy. She was frail looking, delicate evening. But Bella was more than the average china doll. Deep down, she was rooted with a hardiness that few exhibited. A vest had been laced up her chest, giving her a softer shape. She was an endearing girl to look at, not traditionally beautiful, but harder, colder.
Wrapping her long fingers around some tyme, she yanked out the tiny leaves. It was amazing how many thing still thrived by the ancient caves. Perhaps the reason why most of it went unnoticed was because few people dared to venture far enough to the forests to explore the craggy cliffs. Bella shoved the tiny leaves into a large leather satchel she had been using to collect fresh greenery. There was only so much one could do with roasted game. And since men mostly seemed to lack the interest in vegatables, she usually had to go without them in her meals. From time to time, she was able to force Much to go into town and buy (or steal) spices. He was one of the few that respected the art of cooking, and both of them were often locked in combat, armed with nothing but their wits and ladels.
With a single, fluid movement, Bella thrust her satchel onto the ledge of one of the caves. She knew that these were the perfect conditions for mint to grow. Not too sunny, but not quite shady. Swinging herself higher up onto the mountainous terra, she crouched when she had reached the top of an incline. The forest floor was no more than six feet beneath her, but it was dizzying. As her stomach lurched, she slightly swayed, but regained her composure before she could fall. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she frowned suddenly. Edward would certainly not appriciate her sudden disappearance. But a little thrill sparked inside of her. She was like a child who had escaped an overprotective mother. Although Bella knew that a heavy scolding was on the horizion, so was forgiveness. Although she dearly loved Edward, he needed to understand that despite the fact that she was on the unlucky side, she could take care of herself.
Teetering on the edge as she plucked up the moist leaves of mint, Bella inhaled the thickly moist air. It was late afternoon, and she would be expected back soon. Perhaps she would return before Edward did, and that way, she wouldn't have to endure one of his lectures. An impish smirk was imprinted on her lips suddenly. No, she would make him worry just a little bit. And then, she would return triumphant with enough tea making ingredients to supply an army. With a brief pause to pluck a pesky spider from her shoulder, Anabella crouched down to tear the soft green leaves from their stems, ignoring the approaching sound of footsteps...
Password: I’m not being funny…
Name: evie
Age: pretty darn old…seventeen
How to contact you: PM is fine
Role playing experience: Five or more years
Other Characters on this Site: Just this one
------------------------------------------------------------
Adrienne Ophelia Baroque
Adrienne Ophelia Baroque
About your Character
Name: “My full title would be Lady Adrienne Ophelia Baroque of Burgundy.”
Nickname: “I suppose you could call me Adrienne or Andy, depending on who you are.”
Age: “I’m eighteen years old, and still unmarried. Hell, I’m proud of it.”
Country: “I hail from France.”
Position: “Lady, although not your average one.”
Job: “I'm a professional at being loud mouthed and looking 'beautiful'.”
Eye Color: “Blue, simple enough.”
Hair Color: “Quite pale blonde.”
Height: “I stand around five foot six.”
General Appearance:All her life she has always been the ugly duckling, and was never afraid to admit it. This caused for her lack of every becoming vain or obsessed with her appearance. Adrienne has openly accepted the fact that she will never be the most beautiful woman at court, and willingly embraces the notion. Although she doesn‘t see herself to be some hideous hag, she doesn‘t like to view herself as something all men turn their heads to gaze at when she enters a room. Adrienne likes the fact that she is just mediocre, nothing special, nothing worthless. Besides, every woman likes to be admired for her brains and not her body, right?
Born with hair the color of honey that lay strewn across a wooden table, glinting with strands of sun kissed amber, her hair is her greatest quality. Full and ever flowing to the middle of her back, she is proud of this one feature that she wears down, simply because she is an unmarried woman. Her locks of golden brown are glossy waves that can sometimes even pass as loose curls if they dry quickly. Her hair never seems to frizz, except when it is especially humid during the summers. If the summer sun is permitted to shine upon her heavenly locks, then it causes the strands to accumulate a slightly paler shade. In the winter, when the coldest winds howl against her manor walls, the same strands seem to darken, for they have become starved of sunlight and warmth. Her hair is often neatly arranged about her face, an attempt to make herself look at least presentable before anyone, for she fears becoming a spinster in her later years.
Blessed be the young damsel with optics of cerulean and areas of stormy gray. They are ever moving, shining and sparkling like diamonds cut and polished to perfection. Mirthful gazes are often given to those who are graced with the gaze of the young woman called Adrienne. Warm to those she loves, questioning to strangers, they are the mirror to her secretive soul, a mere glimpse into the heart of a young lady kept under protective layers. She is often seen as a wide eyed child to adults, and often regarded as being ’doe-eyed’, which is a perfect illusion to her ever working mind. Arched eyebrows of honey brown work as expressive partners to her sea hued orbs.
Kissers as plump and vibrant as beach roses await temptingly on the chiseled façade of the mistress. Full and often in coy smirks, men beg to stake their claim on. They are the place were her lovely voice will exit to sing to the eardrums of anyone near. They are where flirtatious whispers will skip, to coo to the lover nearby. And they are also where curses dash out, to chastise whomever has upset her. Never are they covered up with rouge to spoil their natural dark coloring with a vibrant shade of crimson. Behind them, teeth stand straight and erect, like white coated soldiers told to stand to attention. High cheekbones grace the face of Adrienne, slightly sunken cheeks give her a slightly sickly look to her, fashionable for the time. Her nose is pert, and straight as an arrow, and quite small to fit her feline face. Her ears are her embarrassment, they are slightly larger than she would have hoped for, but nothing too noticeable.
Slender and willowy, the young woman holds herself with esteem and grace. Adrienne is a proud figure to see strolling through the gardens of her home or the palace of the king. Delicate, she moves like a swan, with little assertiveness in her step, it is as if she is unsure of herself, as if she knows little of what could happen in the course of a minute. Dainty, she looks frail in comparison to some women, perhaps adding to the feminine charms that she has long kept up her sleeves. Her legs are lengthy, lean and softly muscled, for physical work during her life was unheard of. Her waist is ribbon thin, slender, making her seem breakable. Long has she lingered on the edge of being tall for a woman, but still, she is a head shorter than most men.
Fashion wise, Adrienne mostly wears whatever is up to date, she has long been spoiled by her elder brothers and dons mostly full skirted ensembles. She enjoys wearing lowly cut dresses, feeling as though she needs to show some skin to be seen by men. Jewelry is something she indulges in, as well as rich fabrics of reds, blues, and greens. Shoes are something she isn't too fond of, she sees them as dirty trifles that shouldn't be seen by man kind, rather she hides them beneath her skirts at all times. They are only simple leather things, dyed to match the color of her dresses. If there is a ball, then she indulges in a pair of velvet ones.
Likes:
+_dancing
+_fun
+_adventure
+_reading
+_humor
+_England
+_the ocean
+_sunshine, and rainy days
+_being optimistic
+_witty remarks
+_archery, she’s quite good at it herself
+_horses
+_balls, as in masqueades
+_the color purple
+_roses
+_pretending to be someone she isn’t
+_acting
+_lying
+_fooling with people
Dislikes:
+_arrogance
+_the dark
+_bad breath
+_boredom
+_the thought of marrying
+_the thought of being old
+_being an orphan (somewhat)
+_being alone
+_being a ‘lady’
+_having to impress men
+_constricting clothes
Personality:
What happens to a medieval girl who is well-off, more intelligent than anyone would like, not particularly polite and not particularly feminine?
Apparently she becomes like Adrienne.
Most people would be quite charmed by young Adrienne O‘Neil. For all intents and purposes, she is proper and lady-like. Highly intelligent and a good conversationalist, there is no doubt that she knows how to charm, albeit in her own way. She has fulfilled all requirements that her mother forced on her at a young age: she knows when to laugh, how to flirt, how to hold a flute of champagne and apply a daring scarlet lipstick, that and the million other things one needs for lesser society to call you ‘sophisticated.’ Some might notice that Adrienne has something akin to darkness about her, for all her pretty and innocent talk of art, politics, and lovers. But honestly, Adrienne is quite innocuous. She is well-to-do, well-bred, not altogether unpleasant company. Miss James is a member of a family that is a veritable pillar of society , the aristocracy of their little London town. Perhaps – and only if they were truly observant – people would detect something a little bit off about her. Something is not as it seems.
Miss Adrienne Lynn O’Neil is just a little bit dangerous.
No, she doesn’t keep a handgun strapped to her thigh or stilettos to hold up her hair – though the glamour of such ideas never failed to entertain her – but there is something beneath that veneer. Perhaps it is that her eyes are always guarded. Though they can be wide with innocence, made to sparkle or shine at appropriate times in a conversation, there is something within their depths. It is just underneath the surface, but it is something almost intangible. Usually they dismiss it, but upon long meditation and study of Adrienne, the truly astute might find something almost predatory in her gaze. Despite everything – her friendliness, her apparent graciousness [and grace, for that matter] – there is something decidedly cold about Adrienne. There is a part of her that remains constantly detached, more calculating than merely rational. On a day to day basis, there are never overt shows of passionate emotion; she will charm, she will laugh, but never does she ever let go of that one part of her. One could almost call it stony, icy, stoic – perhaps all three – and yet this doesn’t speak to the subtlety of it as the rigidity. Whether this is something learned or inborn, of course, is anyone’s guess, but the fact remains that she is constantly calm. Poised, perhaps, but less like a dancer and more like a snake.
Perhaps it just comes with her remarkable intelligence. She is not erudite, certainly not an intellectual, and the fact that she is a university student is more indicative of “lack of direction” [or rather, seemly direction] than love of learning. Adrienne is a planner, an excellent strategist, with a formidable memory; one could not call her brilliant, but certainly she is quite bright. Certainly she is always rational, and logical. There is the academic intelligence, and then the people intelligence; Adrienne is far better at the latter. She reads the intentions and motivates of others with barely a glance. Then there is two sides to this: the languid and the constantly active. She is both. Society demands a certain ennui, and she fits into it quite well, but neither does she ever let down her guard, exactly.
Listen closely because this is important: Adrienne is not just three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, and half a measure of Kina Lillet with a large thin slice of lemon peel. She is intelligence, charisma, burning ambition, and ruthlessness, yes, but there is one crucial ingredient which catalyzes it all, and that is a distinct lack of morals. This, is, of course, how she has come upon her nickname ‘Sin”. The black and white view of right and wrong are either entirely beyond her or decidedly beneath her. Adrienne does what she says or believes to be necessary – though whether it is for her survival or simply for her entertainment is a matter of debate – but often this entails the morally dubious. The woman does live by some sort of a code, that that isn’t exactly ‘ethics,’ really. It operates quite simply: there is a constant exchange. There is give, and there is take. She expects favors in return, or at least some sort of reciprocation. She is loyal until it is no longer useful to be as such [though she is always quite overt about her schisms from others]. Don’t call what she does courage; it is strength, and self-control. She does this all with a sort of clean efficiency that can be, on occasion, chilling.
The only word that could describe that is ‘selfish,’ but that is such a petty, childish, word when Adrienne is self-interested. Admittedly there are quite childish aspects of her. In certain senses she is quite self-indulgent and materialistic. Despite the decadence and self-indulgence that embodies her lifestyle, there are some aspects that are restricted. She will drink socially, but has yet to pick up a cigarette or become hooked on any other drugs. She has never shot a man in Reno just to watch him die, and Adrienne isn’t exactly a sadist. Miss Baroque does have standards. If Adrienne embodies anything it is elegance – class, perhaps. Though the ugly and the vulgar constantly surrounds her, she always – perhaps in a rather supercilious way – keeps herself constantly above it. She finds the beauty in everything, but don’t get that confused with kindness or optimism.
The other part of the code? Cross her and die.
People are instinctively drawn to Adrienne, no matter how destructive fealty to her might be. Something about her [perhaps it is her voice, or her eyes, or her stance] makes her a compelling woman, someone that people listen to and follow without question.
Adrienne, though gracious, is decidedly unkind. She is vindictive and cruel, often in a cold or merely blasé way, sometimes because she feels that the occasion requires it, and other times because it is merely her nature. Manipulative to the core and quite the actress, the only thing certain about her is this: that nothing that she does is without reason. She always has an agenda or goal of some sort, and the fact of the matter is that she will do anything to achieve it.
And she truly does mean anything. Adrienne is extremely determined; combined with her various skills, power, and complete lack of scruples, she is unstoppable – or so she likes to seem.
Family:
Lord Godfrey, Duke of Burgundy, father, 54, currently in the Holy Land
Lady Sybilla, Duchess of Burgundy, mother, died at 24 due to birth of Adrienne.
Background:
“I don‘t suppose I like to tell sob stories, but it turns out that my life is quite the large mess. You see, I‘m the kind of girl that everyone wants to have, but nobody wants around. It‘s complicated, you see? I guess I could start telling you who I am. I, Lady Adrienne Ophelia Baroque, am the sole remaining heir to the duchy of Burgundy. And it is my job to be married off as quickly as possible. Well, as soon as my father returns from the Holy Land. If he returns. If not, these affairs will be settled by my mother’s brother.
I was born across the sea, in Burgundy. I am of English and French blood, bred to be the son of a wealthy noble. Unfortunately, I was born without a male body and a male mind. Instead, my mother, Sybilla, a English noblewoman, was too weak after giving birth to me. So, she passed days after my birth and I was given to a nanny to care for. Although my father was disappointed that I wasn’t a boy, he took to me quite quickly. I was a silent babe, rarely crying, simply in awe of the world. I’m sure he wishes I stayed that quiet. My father, Lord Godfrey, rather Duke Godfrey, was called upon by the king of France to travel to the Holy Land. It was his duty. And I was only seven at the time.
Although it was hard for him to leave me, he did. And instead of endangering my status in France, he sent me abroad with to live with my mother’s brother, an uncle I did not know of. I was small at the time, terrified of the English world. I didn’t speak a word in their tongue until I was tutored by my uncle’s wife. She was stern enough to scare me, but kind enough to provoke me to learn her language. I was a quick learner and a tough student. But I found something I enjoyed far more than studying. Of course, we had horses in Burgundy, but I practically fell in love with the sport here. They had been bred to perfection, and ran faster than any of my father’s heavier drafts. I took up archery when I was ten years old. This was considered a sport for ladies, and I guess it wasn’t as bad as sitting inside.
Of course, I aged. Although I am not considered old, I believe that my father would have preferred me to married by now. Still, men continue to court me, although I don’t have favor for any of them. They don’t see me as a human, just a title. And I don’t think I like that very much. So, I’m doing everything within my power to deter them, my bad manners and such.”
Anything else: nope. :]
Face Claim: Blake Lively
RP Sample: A diamond was rare amongst a bed of coals. For, if there were too many diamonds, than they would become quite dull, and coal would be prized, right? It is the same thing with sweets. If one has too much, one is bound to grow tiresome of these delicacies. But for Bella, her moments of escape from the camp were always as sweet as the first. She savored each moment, for sooner or later, she knew that she would be hunted down like a missing child and dragged back to confinement kicking and screaming. Oh, how she loved the freedoms of the outside world. Of course, she didn't actually mind slaving night and day over meals to cook for a group of rambunctious men, but the enjoyment of doing what she wanted, that was truely enjoyable. Never had Bella held material things in much appreciation, but cherishing moments, that was what she desired greatly. Long ago, she had been robbed of a normal family life. But she owed those muitious murders more than she would ever admit.
Her hair was pulled back from her face, the thick aubrun cords were held stiffly in a high ponytail. Supple leather boots were concealed beneath a pale green dress that clung to her feminine figure in certain places. Wrapped about her shoulders was a cloak of a darker green, woven out of the last thing she had from her homeland, lovely wool. Of course, she looked more like an Irish girl, minus the tell-tale freckles and thick accent. Instead, her features were more feline, less hardy. She was frail looking, delicate evening. But Bella was more than the average china doll. Deep down, she was rooted with a hardiness that few exhibited. A vest had been laced up her chest, giving her a softer shape. She was an endearing girl to look at, not traditionally beautiful, but harder, colder.
Wrapping her long fingers around some tyme, she yanked out the tiny leaves. It was amazing how many thing still thrived by the ancient caves. Perhaps the reason why most of it went unnoticed was because few people dared to venture far enough to the forests to explore the craggy cliffs. Bella shoved the tiny leaves into a large leather satchel she had been using to collect fresh greenery. There was only so much one could do with roasted game. And since men mostly seemed to lack the interest in vegatables, she usually had to go without them in her meals. From time to time, she was able to force Much to go into town and buy (or steal) spices. He was one of the few that respected the art of cooking, and both of them were often locked in combat, armed with nothing but their wits and ladels.
With a single, fluid movement, Bella thrust her satchel onto the ledge of one of the caves. She knew that these were the perfect conditions for mint to grow. Not too sunny, but not quite shady. Swinging herself higher up onto the mountainous terra, she crouched when she had reached the top of an incline. The forest floor was no more than six feet beneath her, but it was dizzying. As her stomach lurched, she slightly swayed, but regained her composure before she could fall. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she frowned suddenly. Edward would certainly not appriciate her sudden disappearance. But a little thrill sparked inside of her. She was like a child who had escaped an overprotective mother. Although Bella knew that a heavy scolding was on the horizion, so was forgiveness. Although she dearly loved Edward, he needed to understand that despite the fact that she was on the unlucky side, she could take care of herself.
Teetering on the edge as she plucked up the moist leaves of mint, Bella inhaled the thickly moist air. It was late afternoon, and she would be expected back soon. Perhaps she would return before Edward did, and that way, she wouldn't have to endure one of his lectures. An impish smirk was imprinted on her lips suddenly. No, she would make him worry just a little bit. And then, she would return triumphant with enough tea making ingredients to supply an army. With a brief pause to pluck a pesky spider from her shoulder, Anabella crouched down to tear the soft green leaves from their stems, ignoring the approaching sound of footsteps...
Password: I’m not being funny…
