Post by romie addison white on Apr 4, 2009 17:43:18 GMT -5
ROMIE ADDISON WHITE
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NAME romie addison white (ROW-ME ADD-ISS-UN WHYT)
NICKNAMES rom-pom-pom, addie, miss white
AGE nineteen
GENDER female
SEXUALITY straight
ON TOUR WITH breaking the ties
AS THEIR guitarist
LIKES hook ups, sunglasses, long hair, colors, stuffed animals, guitars, singing, immaturity, low carb ice cream, chocolate, peeps, lip stick, stripes, in style clothing, flowers, painting, immaturity, secureness, being on top, attention, brown and green eyes, prince and princess love stories, neon colors, citrus, jewelry, dating.
DISLIKES dirt, germs, evil step mothers, uncleanliness, bad guys, bossy people, sewers, lamp shades, sweet potatoes, chestnuts, big foreheads, scummy band fans, scuzzy band members, obsessive idolizers, teen idols, Hanna Montana, meat eating, gold fish, chemicals, animal bi products, vegans, pumpkins, bugs.
FEARS man eating animals, short term relationships, one night stands, pregnancies, band member fights, obsessive fans, assasination.
STRENGTHS playing the guitar, fighting, flirting, hatred, immaturity, disregard.
WEAKNESSES relationships, sincerity, drums, dealing with my fears.
GOALS to become an actress, finally fall in love, drop out of my brothers clutches.
SECRETS I had my first cigarette at age fifteen, and I don’t even remember how I got started. I hardly ever smoke, anymore, though, because it is a sick and kills you habit.
I got a little bored in art class, and stole all the crayola crayons in second grade. I went home and melted them in a bowl in my microwave. It sounds silly, but the most ironic part; the sculpture is still in my freezer.
PERSONALITY I’m generally a stubborn little brat. Mhm. I’m very congenial, a snobby girl who you'd avoid. but that’s just to certain people, mostly i keep to myself. I'm more of the shy type, a good student rather, though definitely not the teachers pet.
I can be a real sweetie pie, getting you out of trouble and just hangin' around on weekends. I like to relax, I am very cavalier and comfortable with myself, so i have no real insecurities to make me uptight or stressed.
I can flirt the pants of you. I am very attractive to most, and that’s not being the least bit modest. I am thin, petite, and very eye pleasing if i might say so myself, all though that’s not even half of it. if me myself doesn’t lure you in, than my generally calm personality will.
I can be very dramatic, but mostly i am sarcastic but always smiling. I’m the teasing your friends sarcastic, but in a way its my own version of hard to get. I’m very simplistic, never high stressed or tearful, and generally a nice catch.
I am overly dramatic sometimes. I have to be; I'm an actress-to-be, but I do stretch things out a little to far sometimes; almost twisting things so there is absolutely no way that I can't win. The task is almost stressful; and I immediately regret doing it after I do because a wave of guilt always washes over me.
I can be very caring when I'm guilty. But ONLY when I'm guilty. I can be sweet when I hurt someone; or just out of compassion; but such things only happen rarely. So very rarely.
I have been told that my heart was hardened because I can be an utter jerk sometimes. I really have an icy side; it'd get on peoples nerves if I hadn't already shattered them. I'm almost dangerous; it only takes a second and I simply snap.
I am very conservative as much as I want every one, though, and I guess I really crave the words "i love you", even if I'm desperate for fans and attention from everyone else. I've had millions love me at a time, and not only fans and an idolizing love, I mean in love with all the sparks and such. I'll flirt with you like no tomorrow, but really I won't devote myself to you until I understand how you feel I'm not really the type to open up.
I like to party, to be show my originality, but to keep things they way they are. I'm very hard headed and difficult, I have millions of enemies while having millions of friends at the same time. I hope that I have a sort of good influence on my friends and my fans, though it often appears that I am a rather bad girl, even if I contain myself.
PARENTS deceased
SIBLINGS
still born sister, - Cari White – should be seven
older brother.- Alex White – eighteen – unsure?
HOMETOWN Chicago, Illinois
OTHER FIGURES No one that still talks to me..
HISTORY I was born a city girl, with almost three parents. My brother watched out for me, I knew he had my back when my mother or father didn't They all treasured me, and we were all a laid back and relaxed family most of the time. Of course, I wouldn't have minded if that had been the way it was for the rest of my life.
I wasn't actually supposed to be the baby, I was supposed to be the middle child. Not only was my mother having a stillborn daughter sad, but I'll never forget the look on her face. We were pushed out of the room, my mother in tears, so my brother and I had to mourn our sibling loss on our own since my father didn't leave her side.
It was said that my mother actually cried herself to death, but I knew that was fake. I never was able to find the real reason she passed away, but I had lost a sister and a mother in one day. So far my life as a seven year old wasn't that jolly, and my ten year old brother had to stick it out for both of us.
The next day wasn't any happier. My brother had locked me in my room, and I was pounding to get out only to see his shadow under the door. He was laying with his back against it, sobbing. At first I just thought it was reality hitting him, but it turns out my father had committed suicide that very night and he was waiting for the cops to come clean it up and take care of it before he would let me out. I cannot imagine the trauma he faced.
So I knew he was my only hope now, we were sent to live with my grandmother in a ruddy old trailer park in Nashville, Tennessee. It was not very pleasant, but my brother stayed strong for both of us. We stuck with my grandmother until it was time for him to go to high school, and he sent me to live with his friend and his sister. I was surprised he would let me, but he was over there quite often and I was close by, so he wouldn't separate us from one another even for educations sake.
I was finally settling into the home when my brother went to college. Luckily, I got to go to St. Sophia, keeping in touch with him while still being my own person. I was used to him mothering me, looking out for me, so living on my own was excited as it was also scary. I'm only grateful I still have him for my hard times.
However, that was quickly given up, when my small guitar talent was recognized. Tennessee was sort of boring, so when you sit on a park bench playing your guitar, someone is bound to listen and look up from whatever their doing. That's exactly what happened, and now I'm in this band, dieing for attention.
NAME Baylyn
AGE Fourteen
EXPERIENCE Five years
OTHER CHARACTERS Nobody
THE MAGIC WORD -admin edit-
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE
Bright eyes scanned another hallway, no longer caring how late she was going to be, simply focused on being seen. That's right. The world seemed to scream for and at Tuesday Lanadeau, teasing or envying, screaming or yearning for her. It wasn't the popularity that got tiring, it was the nagging from the school administrators that her shorts were too short, or that she was too sweet to actually be that sweet. And then there was the student taunt mistaken for jealousy, or just too harsh to actually comprehend any other way, about the styles of her hair or the lazy way she dressed on weekends. In truth, Tuesday didn't care about anyones opinion when it was time for her to settle down after a long week of being shoved this way and that, and she wasn't about to let them get to her. But they did, oh, they did, and it was almost too much to bare.
Her slender figure slid easily along the well, pressing herself to the side of a locker where the chain finally ended, then took another few steps where the gap was evident to allow a doorway, and pressed herself against another. The hallway was clear of any of the normal bullies, so Tuesday flipped her bag over her shoulder and made a run for it. Now school was pushing twenty five minutes over, and the hallways were still not entirely clear, though she managed to weave through the remaining students relatively well. Unfortunately for her shin, she rammed right into a janitors cart, and was sent wincing and limping down the other side of the hall, eying the custodian angrily.
Now she reached out, inches away from the class room that she'd forgotten had held many administrators on the other side. She stared at her fingers that had curled around the handle,lifting the index finger ever so slightly. Her face went blank, her mouth open slightly, as she remembered the last cut she had chiseled into her finger with her own nail, picking herself out of trouble. Her bright curls fell over her shoulder, creating a curtain almost as if to conceal her if she were too cry. She lifted her head ever so slightly, peering through the glass window on the door at the boy inside. The boy she had so many memories with, memories that she couldn't even began to recall.
She swallowed at the air coming in her mouth, pressing her lips together in a thin line, and opened the door, walking inside a good half an hour late. Ahaha, in her dreams. More like, she turned and veered around the corner, running so she could haul her butt out of there. She didn't even look back at him , though she was sure that he had glanced up to peer at her. That would mean that he had sent the staff after her, and she was in even deeper trouble for trying to skip the teacher conference and the detention that followed.
And there he was. Jude Byron. The familiar plains of his face, so distinct from that of his childhood, and his bright eyes, the only thing she clearly remembered. The bright eyes that had stared at their intertwined fingers, who had watched from a distance when she was not pleased with him, that had stared right back into hers when she slapped him across the face, and then vandalized completely by beating him up. His eyes had never changed, and she could feel her own filling up with tears. Quickly she smeared the back of her hand over one, and the fake hallucination disappeared as she continued to race down the steps, through the bushes and off of the pathway.
Now she was skirting through the trees, her breathing heavy as she countered through the outside hallways, avoiding the cameras she knew were on the campus. She spun into a gap where there were two doors that branched in classrooms, and dropped her belongings, falling on her knees to the ground, sliding so her back was against the wall. She cradled herself there, knowing that no one would come and save her.
