Post by toolazytologin javs on Jan 10, 2008 17:52:53 GMT -5
Name: Frances Lenora Crawford (also known as Fran, Franny, Sis, Scarlet, or even Lenny.)
Age: scarcely sixteen
Gender: femme
Clique: floaters would be lovely. (:
Clique Status: an ickle newbie! =3
Picture:
Play by: Rachel Hurd-Wood
Appearance: There are an abundance of beauties at Florence’s, yet Frances is happily rooted somewhere in the middle, firm within the space of “average” between ugly and gorgeous. There are two remarkable features about her, however, simply because of their vivid hues: her hair and her eyes. A mane of indecisive golden-red hair falls to her collarbone, often unable to decide if it is curly, straight, or somewhere in between. This poses no problem to her, though: if she isn’t fond of its current state, she nimbly plaits it into a braid. No worries. Aforementioned eyes are chatoyant, morphing seamlessly from grey to blue to a hybrid of the two in the correct lighting, each color equally brilliant in their intensity. She has an unnerving habit of staring directly at people whenever conversing with them, which is often rather uncomfortable for the viewer because of the intensity of her gaze.
Despite the blazing chromaticity of mane and optics, however, she is homely in appearance, not a feast for the eyes, certainly not worth of the Pretty Faces. Her own face is heart-shaped, housing a wide forehead and narrow chin, with high cheekbones (not of the glamorous variety, however) and a tip-tilted nose. Despite being tall, her build, too, is rather average –certainly not plump, yet not exaggeratedly thin. She is not one to be described as “beautiful”; “darling” or “charming” is an adjective most often used, if at all.
Personality: Frances decided early on that despite being saddled with a dull name, her personality was going to be anything but insipid. She is vivacious and full of energy, functioning on scant hours of sleep each night to fit more hours of precious time into her days. There is rarely anything but a smile upon her face, and her abundant, full-throated laughter often proves to be contagious. Despite being fond of talking –she will engage anyone nearby in conversation, utilizing not only her vocal chords but her hands and eyebrows and very being–, she is an excellent listener, focusing intently on the speaker with widened eyes, arched brows, leaning slightly forward to hear and comprehend each word. There is almost a naivety about her love for –no, obsession with– life, a degree of ignorant innocence, and yet her humble empathy for others is not ingenuousness, but, simply, kindness.
One should not view Fran simply as a ray of particularly lambent sunshine, however– she is also outrageously stubborn, and her unique low, raspy voice can become /very/ loud when she is angered or upset. When confronted or insulted, she’ll usually simply grin and apologize blithely, but at times a sarcastic quip may dodge the barrier of her lips. She is also notorious for attempting to engage in conversation those who clearly have no desire to speak with her.
History: Fran was born into a large family, already having four elder sisters and receiving a brother three years after her own birth. The Crawfords not necessarily wealthy, living in a modest manor in the country, yet her father’s brother was a rich man, and he was happy to assist them. (It was he who paid for Fran’s initial transfer to Florence’s.) Fran was not precisely a tomboy as a child, instead traversing through the countryside, chasing all manner of fauna (amphibians included), and jumping in mud puddles while wearing her laciest white gowns. She did, however, engage in proper ladylike activities, and did not often mind; she is easily intrigued and considers little unbearably boring or tedious (except for blasted croquet!).
She studied under the watchful eyes of a governess until her sixteenth birthday. Then, her beloved uncle offered her her present– an application to Florence’s Academy for the Young. Fran hesitated, considered, and finally agreed. Now, however, with her first day quickly approaching, her quotidian confidence is wavering–
Because something unspeakable is tethering her to the familiar.
Fears: death, disease, suffering, frost killing her flowers, heights, small spaces, awkward silences (and nothing to fill them with!)
Likes: gardening, talking, listening, boys (kind ones; the most handsome ones always seem to be the cruelest), people with a good sense of humor, bright colors, horse-back riding, parasols, frogs, embroidery, swimming, painting, being outdoors, freedom, reading, going barefoot
Dislikes: anything listed above in “fears”, selfish people, shoes that are too small, weeds, croquet
Dreams: Frances suddenly and unexplainably became a voracious gardener at the age of fourteen. Nearly half of her days are spent outside, crouching in the dirt, tenderly attending to her beloved flowers and coaxing them to life seemingly with her own exuberance. She dreams of becoming a florist and bringing splashes of color to the depressing sphere that is the world.
Anything you'd like to add? If you really need to know her secret, ask; I’m still attempting to think of something better than what I’m hesitantly thinking of right now. Hehe.
Age: scarcely sixteen
Gender: femme
Clique: floaters would be lovely. (:
Clique Status: an ickle newbie! =3
Picture:
Play by: Rachel Hurd-Wood
Appearance: There are an abundance of beauties at Florence’s, yet Frances is happily rooted somewhere in the middle, firm within the space of “average” between ugly and gorgeous. There are two remarkable features about her, however, simply because of their vivid hues: her hair and her eyes. A mane of indecisive golden-red hair falls to her collarbone, often unable to decide if it is curly, straight, or somewhere in between. This poses no problem to her, though: if she isn’t fond of its current state, she nimbly plaits it into a braid. No worries. Aforementioned eyes are chatoyant, morphing seamlessly from grey to blue to a hybrid of the two in the correct lighting, each color equally brilliant in their intensity. She has an unnerving habit of staring directly at people whenever conversing with them, which is often rather uncomfortable for the viewer because of the intensity of her gaze.
Despite the blazing chromaticity of mane and optics, however, she is homely in appearance, not a feast for the eyes, certainly not worth of the Pretty Faces. Her own face is heart-shaped, housing a wide forehead and narrow chin, with high cheekbones (not of the glamorous variety, however) and a tip-tilted nose. Despite being tall, her build, too, is rather average –certainly not plump, yet not exaggeratedly thin. She is not one to be described as “beautiful”; “darling” or “charming” is an adjective most often used, if at all.
Personality: Frances decided early on that despite being saddled with a dull name, her personality was going to be anything but insipid. She is vivacious and full of energy, functioning on scant hours of sleep each night to fit more hours of precious time into her days. There is rarely anything but a smile upon her face, and her abundant, full-throated laughter often proves to be contagious. Despite being fond of talking –she will engage anyone nearby in conversation, utilizing not only her vocal chords but her hands and eyebrows and very being–, she is an excellent listener, focusing intently on the speaker with widened eyes, arched brows, leaning slightly forward to hear and comprehend each word. There is almost a naivety about her love for –no, obsession with– life, a degree of ignorant innocence, and yet her humble empathy for others is not ingenuousness, but, simply, kindness.
One should not view Fran simply as a ray of particularly lambent sunshine, however– she is also outrageously stubborn, and her unique low, raspy voice can become /very/ loud when she is angered or upset. When confronted or insulted, she’ll usually simply grin and apologize blithely, but at times a sarcastic quip may dodge the barrier of her lips. She is also notorious for attempting to engage in conversation those who clearly have no desire to speak with her.
History: Fran was born into a large family, already having four elder sisters and receiving a brother three years after her own birth. The Crawfords not necessarily wealthy, living in a modest manor in the country, yet her father’s brother was a rich man, and he was happy to assist them. (It was he who paid for Fran’s initial transfer to Florence’s.) Fran was not precisely a tomboy as a child, instead traversing through the countryside, chasing all manner of fauna (amphibians included), and jumping in mud puddles while wearing her laciest white gowns. She did, however, engage in proper ladylike activities, and did not often mind; she is easily intrigued and considers little unbearably boring or tedious (except for blasted croquet!).
She studied under the watchful eyes of a governess until her sixteenth birthday. Then, her beloved uncle offered her her present– an application to Florence’s Academy for the Young. Fran hesitated, considered, and finally agreed. Now, however, with her first day quickly approaching, her quotidian confidence is wavering–
Because something unspeakable is tethering her to the familiar.
Fears: death, disease, suffering, frost killing her flowers, heights, small spaces, awkward silences (and nothing to fill them with!)
Likes: gardening, talking, listening, boys (kind ones; the most handsome ones always seem to be the cruelest), people with a good sense of humor, bright colors, horse-back riding, parasols, frogs, embroidery, swimming, painting, being outdoors, freedom, reading, going barefoot
Dislikes: anything listed above in “fears”, selfish people, shoes that are too small, weeds, croquet
Dreams: Frances suddenly and unexplainably became a voracious gardener at the age of fourteen. Nearly half of her days are spent outside, crouching in the dirt, tenderly attending to her beloved flowers and coaxing them to life seemingly with her own exuberance. She dreams of becoming a florist and bringing splashes of color to the depressing sphere that is the world.
Anything you'd like to add? If you really need to know her secret, ask; I’m still attempting to think of something better than what I’m hesitantly thinking of right now. Hehe.
