Post by Javert on Aug 4, 2009 22:37:16 GMT -5
[/font][/font][/size][/size]Introducing…
OPIUM WAYBRIGHT !
Please Allow Me To Introduce Myself…[/blockquote][/center]
Name: Opium Alianora Waybright
Nicknames: Opal; "whatever you want to call me -winks-"
Age: seventeen
Gender: female
Where you stand?: Heartbreaker
Play by: Linda Vojtova
Nicknames: Opal; "whatever you want to call me -winks-"
Age: seventeen
Gender: female
Where you stand?: Heartbreaker
Play by: Linda Vojtova
I'm a man of wealth and taste...
Appearance:
The honey-hued hair of Opal Waybright is naturally enriched and deepened by strands of cinnamon and light brown, waving to the small of her back, bangs obscuring a portion of her golden forehead.
To be frank, Opal's not too concerned with her hair, though. Most people, upon first glance, are concerned with her face.
Neither Opal nor her father know the nationality of Opal's mother, but Opal obviously takes after her, for her visage is undoubtedly exotic. Her bold, square face (the shape somewhat interrupted by a round, clefted chin) houses prominent cheekbones—the sole feature that she inherited from her father, more suited to the classic English variety of beauty—set high below almond-shaped eyes of a curious crystal-blue that can metamorphose nearly to a pale, translucent silver. These eyes contrast interestingly with the burnished gold of her complexion, and are ringed by long, cinnamon lashes prone to batting, and accentuated by long, arched brows with which she can communicate volumes. Her nose--a common feature of interest--is certainly not small and delicate. Putting it nicely (yet accurately) would be to describe it as prominently bold , proud, and interestingly sloped, a feature which lends character and individuality to her profile; to describe it less kindly (yet also accurately) would be to call it big. Below this fantastic nose that Opal is inordinately fond of are the focal points of her visage: a pair of plump, pink lips, the upper somewhat wider than the lower, both naturally upturned in the sort of "I-know-something-you-don't-know-but-if-you-come-closer-maybe-I'll-tell-you" grin that that makes men very interested in what she has to say, or at least in what she has to communicate. They're full enough to have been described once as 'pillows' for those lips who desire to rest upon them, and Opal does not disagree; in fact, she wholeheartedly agrees with the statement, and encourages any weary lips to test that theory.
What also tends to make men intrigued in her communication is what's below her graceful neck-- a lean, toned physique that is partly hereditary and partly from her active nature. The latter has ensured that the stomach of her long torso is flat enough to almost appear muscled (which intimidates some men and greatly pleases others), and, when flexed, the muscles of her arms, although not large, are hard enough to imply that she favors punches over wussy, ladylike slaps. The former has guaranteed her curves to be ample where men want them the most, while her legs are long and feet slightly bigger than normal to accommodate her impressive height of 5'11. Clothing is of very little importance to her: she prefers it to be relatively sparse, simple, and easy to remove, criteria that Florence's uniform does not apply to. She, in fact, sees no point in clothing; fashion is meaningless to her, and if its only function is to keep people warm, then she would rather be warmed by someone else's body heat, anyway.
Personality: Opal's personality is more multi-faceted than a diamond, or, to put it less histrionically, as a golf ball, or the eyes of a mosquito, honestly. There are thousands of different aspects to her and thousands of words that can describe her. Some of these words are lustful, playful, dangerous, impulsive, impossible, intense, restless, recalcitrant, recycled. One word that will under no circumstances come anywhere close to a ten-foot radius of her, however, is predictable. Two others, a pair, are "entirely sane". Another is "boring". Another is "chaste". Chastity was already beginning to pack its bags when she was barely 13.
And yet first and foremost is "predictable", because Opal Waybright is constantly akin to a bomb that could explode spontaneously at any moment, destroying itself and everything in its path. She always knew she was 'moody', but modern medicine would definitely diagnose her also bipolar. Since this remains a foreign concept in the Victorian world, Opal remains very unfortunately unmedicated. Her mood swings are violent and frequent and spontaneous. One moment, she could be at her 'norm'; the next, she could suddenly be hyper, singing at the top of her lungs, dancing through streets and weaving mindlessly between moving carriages without any thought of danger. In several hours she could be holding a pistol to someone's temple and screaming that she was going to blow their brains out, punctuating every other word with an obscenity, shaking with rage. Soon she could be weeping with the gun poised at her own heart. She is a danger to herself and others; she is literally her own worst enemy, and there's nothing she can do about it.
These frightening mood swings, however, do not force Opal into recluse. On the contrary, she is a very social creature--but mostly with the opposite sex. Opal has a heart with an immense capacity for love, and Opal loves, loves, loves, loves boys the most (she has been attracted to females as well, always willing to flirt with them, but she is convinced that boys are the best in bed). Fortunately, boys tend to love Opal, too. Some are attracted by her bold, in-your-face attitude, an assertive, extreme confidence that makes others uncomfortable. Other phrases that won't touch Opal with a ten-foot pole are 'boundaries', 'personal space', or 'going over the top'. When conversing, she stands as close to someone, male or female, as they will allow, punctuating her words with a touch on the arm, a hand on their cheek, a playful ruffle of their hair, an arm snaked around their waist. Her demeanor is extrovered to the extreme, playful and brash and saucy, often a bit too 'TMI' for the taste of most people. She has no qualms whatsoever about violence under the right circumstances, especially in one of her 'highs', and jealous girls are usually the ones receiving a punch in the nose and a barrage of cursing from Opal.
She also possesses a frighteningly dangerous combination of having no fears, no regrets, and no shame about anything--well, mostly. Deep within her wild heart is a knot of cotton candy, a spot of pure softness and unstable insecurity. She has fears, indeed: one of Opal's deepest fears is that she will end up like her father, and many would be surprised to know that she (quite ironically) abstains from using drugs of any kind; she also attempts to stay away from alcohol, but that usually goes out the window when she's in the upswing or downward spiral of 'one of her moods'. There is also her most profound, complex emotion, a fear and an ache and a longing all in one: the fear of never being truly loved, the ache of consistent rejection, the longing to find the hand that fits in hers like a puzzle piece and the heart that matches hers beat for beat. Opal's obsession with the opposite sex is not simply because she enjoys flirting and intimidating and making out (although she unquestionably does): they fill the hole in her heart where her father should have been. Men make her feel wanted, a feeling that she never experienced in her childhood, and having a boy (or two, or three) constantly in her life reinstills her belief that she deserves to wake up every morning after all.
In summary, perhaps Opal can best be described as 'passionate', because she lives whole-heartedly and will never give anything less than 100%--and perhaps this is why she will be perpetually living her circadian cycle of heartbreak, for every boy receives 100% of her heart, and they always hand it, bleeding, back to her, to mend and to hide beneath her feral exterior, and to prepare to be presented again.
Likes:
boys, boys, boys, boys, b-- oh, I can't just list that ten times?
being loved, being in love, running, sports (viewing and participating; not that they allow her to in the school), danger, adrenaline rushes, good food, languages, causing trouble, waking up early, reading (sometimes it frustrates her, though, due to dyslexia), small animals, boxing and brawling, laughing, cuddling, shooting things, stretching, attention, smalltightcrowded spaces, backrubs, exploring, being kissed on her collarbone, fire, singing, dancing, screaming, living
Dislikes:
solitude, silence, sexism, celebrities, being ignored, rejection, sitting still, crying, being bipolar, most girls (just because they tend to hate her almost automatically; she likes the attractive ones), not getting the last word in, karma, most cats, being underestimated, chocolate, chapped lips, corsets (she doesn't think she needs them), being tense, gravity, laziness, the memory of her father, people assuming she's going to end up as a prostitute (it's not all kicks and giggles; she knows that first hand)
Dreams:
For such a complex girl, her dream is simple: love. True love. That's all she asks for and all she is bound and determined to someday receive. She also dreams of a better life for Marguerite and intends to give her 'the damn money', as she calls her fortune, when she finally is able to claim it.
Fears: Living in the slums has erased fear of nearly anything physical, but, less concretely, she fears becoming like her father, a slave to his addiction; going completely insane (she is well aware that she's at least halfway there); losing her memory; becoming somehow physically disabled; and never discovering what true love feels like.
The honey-hued hair of Opal Waybright is naturally enriched and deepened by strands of cinnamon and light brown, waving to the small of her back, bangs obscuring a portion of her golden forehead.
To be frank, Opal's not too concerned with her hair, though. Most people, upon first glance, are concerned with her face.
Neither Opal nor her father know the nationality of Opal's mother, but Opal obviously takes after her, for her visage is undoubtedly exotic. Her bold, square face (the shape somewhat interrupted by a round, clefted chin) houses prominent cheekbones—the sole feature that she inherited from her father, more suited to the classic English variety of beauty—set high below almond-shaped eyes of a curious crystal-blue that can metamorphose nearly to a pale, translucent silver. These eyes contrast interestingly with the burnished gold of her complexion, and are ringed by long, cinnamon lashes prone to batting, and accentuated by long, arched brows with which she can communicate volumes. Her nose--a common feature of interest--is certainly not small and delicate. Putting it nicely (yet accurately) would be to describe it as prominently bold , proud, and interestingly sloped, a feature which lends character and individuality to her profile; to describe it less kindly (yet also accurately) would be to call it big. Below this fantastic nose that Opal is inordinately fond of are the focal points of her visage: a pair of plump, pink lips, the upper somewhat wider than the lower, both naturally upturned in the sort of "I-know-something-you-don't-know-but-if-you-come-closer-maybe-I'll-tell-you" grin that that makes men very interested in what she has to say, or at least in what she has to communicate. They're full enough to have been described once as 'pillows' for those lips who desire to rest upon them, and Opal does not disagree; in fact, she wholeheartedly agrees with the statement, and encourages any weary lips to test that theory.
What also tends to make men intrigued in her communication is what's below her graceful neck-- a lean, toned physique that is partly hereditary and partly from her active nature. The latter has ensured that the stomach of her long torso is flat enough to almost appear muscled (which intimidates some men and greatly pleases others), and, when flexed, the muscles of her arms, although not large, are hard enough to imply that she favors punches over wussy, ladylike slaps. The former has guaranteed her curves to be ample where men want them the most, while her legs are long and feet slightly bigger than normal to accommodate her impressive height of 5'11. Clothing is of very little importance to her: she prefers it to be relatively sparse, simple, and easy to remove, criteria that Florence's uniform does not apply to. She, in fact, sees no point in clothing; fashion is meaningless to her, and if its only function is to keep people warm, then she would rather be warmed by someone else's body heat, anyway.
Personality: Opal's personality is more multi-faceted than a diamond, or, to put it less histrionically, as a golf ball, or the eyes of a mosquito, honestly. There are thousands of different aspects to her and thousands of words that can describe her. Some of these words are lustful, playful, dangerous, impulsive, impossible, intense, restless, recalcitrant, recycled. One word that will under no circumstances come anywhere close to a ten-foot radius of her, however, is predictable. Two others, a pair, are "entirely sane". Another is "boring". Another is "chaste". Chastity was already beginning to pack its bags when she was barely 13.
And yet first and foremost is "predictable", because Opal Waybright is constantly akin to a bomb that could explode spontaneously at any moment, destroying itself and everything in its path. She always knew she was 'moody', but modern medicine would definitely diagnose her also bipolar. Since this remains a foreign concept in the Victorian world, Opal remains very unfortunately unmedicated. Her mood swings are violent and frequent and spontaneous. One moment, she could be at her 'norm'; the next, she could suddenly be hyper, singing at the top of her lungs, dancing through streets and weaving mindlessly between moving carriages without any thought of danger. In several hours she could be holding a pistol to someone's temple and screaming that she was going to blow their brains out, punctuating every other word with an obscenity, shaking with rage. Soon she could be weeping with the gun poised at her own heart. She is a danger to herself and others; she is literally her own worst enemy, and there's nothing she can do about it.
These frightening mood swings, however, do not force Opal into recluse. On the contrary, she is a very social creature--but mostly with the opposite sex. Opal has a heart with an immense capacity for love, and Opal loves, loves, loves, loves boys the most (she has been attracted to females as well, always willing to flirt with them, but she is convinced that boys are the best in bed). Fortunately, boys tend to love Opal, too. Some are attracted by her bold, in-your-face attitude, an assertive, extreme confidence that makes others uncomfortable. Other phrases that won't touch Opal with a ten-foot pole are 'boundaries', 'personal space', or 'going over the top'. When conversing, she stands as close to someone, male or female, as they will allow, punctuating her words with a touch on the arm, a hand on their cheek, a playful ruffle of their hair, an arm snaked around their waist. Her demeanor is extrovered to the extreme, playful and brash and saucy, often a bit too 'TMI' for the taste of most people. She has no qualms whatsoever about violence under the right circumstances, especially in one of her 'highs', and jealous girls are usually the ones receiving a punch in the nose and a barrage of cursing from Opal.
She also possesses a frighteningly dangerous combination of having no fears, no regrets, and no shame about anything--well, mostly. Deep within her wild heart is a knot of cotton candy, a spot of pure softness and unstable insecurity. She has fears, indeed: one of Opal's deepest fears is that she will end up like her father, and many would be surprised to know that she (quite ironically) abstains from using drugs of any kind; she also attempts to stay away from alcohol, but that usually goes out the window when she's in the upswing or downward spiral of 'one of her moods'. There is also her most profound, complex emotion, a fear and an ache and a longing all in one: the fear of never being truly loved, the ache of consistent rejection, the longing to find the hand that fits in hers like a puzzle piece and the heart that matches hers beat for beat. Opal's obsession with the opposite sex is not simply because she enjoys flirting and intimidating and making out (although she unquestionably does): they fill the hole in her heart where her father should have been. Men make her feel wanted, a feeling that she never experienced in her childhood, and having a boy (or two, or three) constantly in her life reinstills her belief that she deserves to wake up every morning after all.
In summary, perhaps Opal can best be described as 'passionate', because she lives whole-heartedly and will never give anything less than 100%--and perhaps this is why she will be perpetually living her circadian cycle of heartbreak, for every boy receives 100% of her heart, and they always hand it, bleeding, back to her, to mend and to hide beneath her feral exterior, and to prepare to be presented again.
Likes:
boys, boys, boys, boys, b-- oh, I can't just list that ten times?
being loved, being in love, running, sports (viewing and participating; not that they allow her to in the school), danger, adrenaline rushes, good food, languages, causing trouble, waking up early, reading (sometimes it frustrates her, though, due to dyslexia), small animals, boxing and brawling, laughing, cuddling, shooting things, stretching, attention, smalltightcrowded spaces, backrubs, exploring, being kissed on her collarbone, fire, singing, dancing, screaming, living
Dislikes:
solitude, silence, sexism, celebrities, being ignored, rejection, sitting still, crying, being bipolar, most girls (just because they tend to hate her almost automatically; she likes the attractive ones), not getting the last word in, karma, most cats, being underestimated, chocolate, chapped lips, corsets (she doesn't think she needs them), being tense, gravity, laziness, the memory of her father, people assuming she's going to end up as a prostitute (it's not all kicks and giggles; she knows that first hand)
Dreams:
For such a complex girl, her dream is simple: love. True love. That's all she asks for and all she is bound and determined to someday receive. She also dreams of a better life for Marguerite and intends to give her 'the damn money', as she calls her fortune, when she finally is able to claim it.
Fears: Living in the slums has erased fear of nearly anything physical, but, less concretely, she fears becoming like her father, a slave to his addiction; going completely insane (she is well aware that she's at least halfway there); losing her memory; becoming somehow physically disabled; and never discovering what true love feels like.
I've been around for a long, long year...
History: Dear God.
March unarguably came in like a lion in INSERTYEARHERETOOLAZYTODOMATH, battering the slums of London with rain that harbored ill will for those who stood on street corners. Thankfully, one prostitute, was inside, but under undesirable circumstances: she was having a baby that she did not want and had no intentions of keeping. In declining health already, the woman's fragile frame lost all signs of life just as it brought new life into the world. Thus, the father was unfortunately requested to name his new daughter. Charles Waybright, a disgustingly wealthy, young, foolish, drug-addicted fool was roused from his sleep outside the door just long enough to mumble a single word, still more or less in slumber: Opium, his addiction. The doctors cringed but could offer no argument, and Opium Alianora was unceremoniously welcomed into the world, poor thing.
Opal, as her father's servants came to call her, was as much a shame to her family as her father was, but she would be the sole heiress to her father's fortune once he died, since he expressed extreme opposition to the notion of having another child. She was kept inside the enormous, lonely mansion for the first 11 years of her life, smothered in wealth that she came to despise. Wealth became a symbol of hatred and desperation to her—it brought her daddy his drugs and kept him out of her life. Her only interaction was with her governess, whom she despised and regularly threw school supplies at, dancing nimbly around the room. Even starved for social interaction, she was a lovely child with a huge personality, a stubborn and mischievous streak a mile wide, and moods that swung like some satanic pendulum. These issues manifested themselves at a young age, when happy Opal would suddenly begin squalling and beating her tiny fists against the floor. Her father ignored the problems, dismissing her as temperamental, and wasn't around enough to know any differently—which was, perhaps, a blessing, for she would have been shipped to an asylum faster than she could throw a punch.
When Opal was about nine, she met Marguerite LeFevre for the first time. Charles had been disappearing more and more lately, and Marguerite--a dark-haired, sloe-eyed, beautiful and well-known "companion" of many wealthy men--was clearly the reason why. Marguerite came to visit often, and Opal, young as she was, had an inkling why, but came to be fascinated by Marguerite, especially when she discovered that she had been closer friends with her mother. They developed a bond far closer than the one Opal shared with Charles.
It was of no surprise, then, when at age eleven, Opal fled the Waybright mansion with nothing but the clothes on her back and took up residence with a surprised Marguerite in her home in the London slums. Marguerite debated allowing her in, lecturing Opal on what she would be losing and the less-than-desirable circumstances she would gain, but finally agreed when Opal refused to relent. Marguerite, despite her occupation and her frequent disappearances, was a far better "parent"--and a far better person--than Charles, offering love and guidance and what protection she could to Opal. Opal was nonplussed by her humble home or the people she was surrounded by. She learned and loved the ways of the streets, becoming fiercely independent, a princess of the poor. Even then, however, she dreamed of true love, not the kind that caused Marguerite's muffled sobs in the middle of the night when she thought that Opal couldn't hear, nor the kind that her father had never given her. It was too late for that.
Three things happened very suddenly when Opal was fourteen.
One: her father, whom she hadn't seen for years, died unexpectedly.
Two: Opal became an orphan.
Three: She became heiress to a sizable fortune that would be hers at age 21.
Opal was suddenly being thrust into the very world she had fled, but it would be easier to face, she thought, with Marguerite at her side, and Opal begged Marguerite to adopt her. Instead, Marguerite demanded that Opal receive some kind of schooling beyond the few years she had received from her awful governess. Opal refused, but Marguerite was adamant, crying that Opal could not end up like her, that a better life was in store for her. Confused but wanting to appease her, Opal reluctantly agreed, and in a week was shipped to Florence's, several years late but there nonetheless, with a hodgepodge of Marguerite's own precious money and what Opal was able to steal from her father's house (she reasoned that the fortune was going to be hers eventually, anyway).
Javs could keep going but will stop now. THE END BYE.
Family:
Father--Charles Waybright; deceased
Mother-- Alianora Makovicka; deceased
Guardian, best friend, better than her real family-- Marguerite Lefevre; 30
Anything you'd like to add?
Besides being bipolar and pretty much insane, Opal displays tendencies of kleptomania and nymphomania and probably a crapload of other issues. (: oh, boy!
March unarguably came in like a lion in INSERTYEARHERETOOLAZYTODOMATH, battering the slums of London with rain that harbored ill will for those who stood on street corners. Thankfully, one prostitute, was inside, but under undesirable circumstances: she was having a baby that she did not want and had no intentions of keeping. In declining health already, the woman's fragile frame lost all signs of life just as it brought new life into the world. Thus, the father was unfortunately requested to name his new daughter. Charles Waybright, a disgustingly wealthy, young, foolish, drug-addicted fool was roused from his sleep outside the door just long enough to mumble a single word, still more or less in slumber: Opium, his addiction. The doctors cringed but could offer no argument, and Opium Alianora was unceremoniously welcomed into the world, poor thing.
Opal, as her father's servants came to call her, was as much a shame to her family as her father was, but she would be the sole heiress to her father's fortune once he died, since he expressed extreme opposition to the notion of having another child. She was kept inside the enormous, lonely mansion for the first 11 years of her life, smothered in wealth that she came to despise. Wealth became a symbol of hatred and desperation to her—it brought her daddy his drugs and kept him out of her life. Her only interaction was with her governess, whom she despised and regularly threw school supplies at, dancing nimbly around the room. Even starved for social interaction, she was a lovely child with a huge personality, a stubborn and mischievous streak a mile wide, and moods that swung like some satanic pendulum. These issues manifested themselves at a young age, when happy Opal would suddenly begin squalling and beating her tiny fists against the floor. Her father ignored the problems, dismissing her as temperamental, and wasn't around enough to know any differently—which was, perhaps, a blessing, for she would have been shipped to an asylum faster than she could throw a punch.
When Opal was about nine, she met Marguerite LeFevre for the first time. Charles had been disappearing more and more lately, and Marguerite--a dark-haired, sloe-eyed, beautiful and well-known "companion" of many wealthy men--was clearly the reason why. Marguerite came to visit often, and Opal, young as she was, had an inkling why, but came to be fascinated by Marguerite, especially when she discovered that she had been closer friends with her mother. They developed a bond far closer than the one Opal shared with Charles.
It was of no surprise, then, when at age eleven, Opal fled the Waybright mansion with nothing but the clothes on her back and took up residence with a surprised Marguerite in her home in the London slums. Marguerite debated allowing her in, lecturing Opal on what she would be losing and the less-than-desirable circumstances she would gain, but finally agreed when Opal refused to relent. Marguerite, despite her occupation and her frequent disappearances, was a far better "parent"--and a far better person--than Charles, offering love and guidance and what protection she could to Opal. Opal was nonplussed by her humble home or the people she was surrounded by. She learned and loved the ways of the streets, becoming fiercely independent, a princess of the poor. Even then, however, she dreamed of true love, not the kind that caused Marguerite's muffled sobs in the middle of the night when she thought that Opal couldn't hear, nor the kind that her father had never given her. It was too late for that.
Three things happened very suddenly when Opal was fourteen.
One: her father, whom she hadn't seen for years, died unexpectedly.
Two: Opal became an orphan.
Three: She became heiress to a sizable fortune that would be hers at age 21.
Opal was suddenly being thrust into the very world she had fled, but it would be easier to face, she thought, with Marguerite at her side, and Opal begged Marguerite to adopt her. Instead, Marguerite demanded that Opal receive some kind of schooling beyond the few years she had received from her awful governess. Opal refused, but Marguerite was adamant, crying that Opal could not end up like her, that a better life was in store for her. Confused but wanting to appease her, Opal reluctantly agreed, and in a week was shipped to Florence's, several years late but there nonetheless, with a hodgepodge of Marguerite's own precious money and what Opal was able to steal from her father's house (she reasoned that the fortune was going to be hers eventually, anyway).
Javs could keep going but will stop now. THE END BYE.
Family:
Father--Charles Waybright; deceased
Mother-- Alianora Makovicka; deceased
Guardian, best friend, better than her real family-- Marguerite Lefevre; 30
Anything you'd like to add?
Besides being bipolar and pretty much insane, Opal displays tendencies of kleptomania and nymphomania and probably a crapload of other issues. (: oh, boy!
Hope you guess my name...
Your name: Javs
Parent of which characters: -points to siggy- them. xD
Parent of which characters: -points to siggy- them. xD
But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game...
(c) Poe & Realms of Fantasia
Lyrics (c) Guns N' Roses
Do not steal.
It's bad.
