Audrey Lémieux Vandergraaf
Nov 4, 2014 1:01:53 GMT -5
Post by Audrey Vandergraaf on Nov 4, 2014 1:01:53 GMT -5
The Basics
Name: Audrey Lémieux Vandergraaf
Nicknames: ---
Age: Sixteen
Orientation: Heterosexual
Desired Rank/Job: Student
Powers: Psionic Blasts— At the current time, Audrey displays a concerning lack of control regarding her meta capabilities. With sharp concentration, she can manage a small shock to another’s psyche, but not anything more damning than a few seconds of headache. In rare moments of extreme duress, she has proven herself capable of delivering crippling migraines that can force the victim into a temporary convulsive state. However, these involuntary fits of psionic rage have only occurred twice, and Miss Vandergraaf is far from a loose canon. She can only focus her power on a single individual, and it requires an enormous amount of concentration and mental energy. Essentially, her ability is to excite the axons (nerve fibers) of the recipient's brain, which can cause anything from an overproduction of norepinephrine in the synapse to a complete shutdown of the GABA receptors; she does not yet have a strong grasp on the execution of her abilities. All of these events are quick and relatively mild, resulting in anything from a minor cluster headache to a few seconds of euphoria. The side-effects Audrey experiences from practicing this power are quite simialr to the effect of the power itself: she endures migraines, brief episodes of confusion, and occasional muscle spasms.
Play By: Abbey Lee Kershaw
The Details
Hair Color: Sandy blonde
Eye Color: Pale blue, sometimes appearing gray in certain lighting
Any Piercings? She has a single piercing in each earlobe
Any Tattoos? A small blue owl inked on the surface of the middle finger of her left hand
Any Scars? After practicing pointe for close to a decade, Audrey's feet have become calloused and malformed; they boast both bruised nail beds and protruding hammered joints. Not exactly a scar, but a distinguishing deformity, she feels both pride and shame in relationship with her feet. In the company of other dancers, Audrey displays them proudly as a testament to her commitment, often stretching with just her ankles loosely wrapped, revealing the impressive battery of her ballerina feet. Alternatively, when spending time with non-performers, Audrey is extremely insecure about the gruesome state of her toes. She has been referred to as "gollum feet" more than once, and thus she always keeps her dogs tucked away in a pair of socks when she's away from the barre.
General Appearance:
Audrey’s features are delicate but no longer categorically frail; after a series of hospitalizations and visits to long-term facilities, she has managed to get her weight up to a sort of healthy 115 lbs. Standing at a willowy 5’7”, her treatment team has been pretty insistent about adding on another 5 lbs. However, in a persistent fear of the critical eye of her mother, Audrey has been stubborn, ignoring medical advice and refusing any additional weight gain. If these whitecoats wanted her to pack on any more pounds, maybe they should also take her place at the dinner table next holiday and sit awkwardly through a series of weight-related derision. Yeah, not happening.
Moving on, her figure is girlish and narrow, the intricate boning of her chest often visible beneath the pale sheath of her skin; the harsh angles of her clavicle draw the eye in before the softness of her modest bust. Her hips are still developing, but the thighs that support them are dense and powerful. From afar her limbs may seem gangly and childlike, but upon closer inspection it becomes clear that both her arms and legs are fortified with lean muscle from 13 years of competitive dance.
Similarly to her body, Audrey’s facial features are youthful and feminine, indicating an innocence that she does not actually possess. Her eyes are wide-set and sunken in, and she exaggerates their unusually large size with the clever application of shadows, liners, and mascara. Her nose is petite and slightly upturned, its bridge sprinkled with a smattering of light freckles. Her lips pouty and small, matching a narrow chin and delicate cheekbones… Nearly all of Audrey’s features are angelic in nature, the key term here being “nearly.”
The reason Audrey maintains her signature pout has little to do with her sour attitude. After years of bulimia, the enamel of her teeth had eroded and her gums underwent numerous infections. As a preteen, Audrey had to have her braces removed multiple times for emergency dental intervention, and because of this, the alignment of her teeth was never fully corrected. Her front teeth are round, gapped, and slightly crooked—she may have whitened them to blinding perfection, but it hasn’t compensated for the insecurity their misshapen state has wrought.
As far as style goes, Audrey is pretty invested in fashion (both literally and figuratively) and enjoys her fair share of upscale designers; she's particularly fond of Miu Miu, Moschino, Chanel, Lanvin, and Givenchy... just to name a few. However, because she's constantly jetting from class to training sessions to ballet practice, she can usually be found in a leotard and a pair of leggings layered over tights, her pointe shoes wrapped and carefully placed in one of her many interchangeable over-sized purses. Audrey may hate the phrase "less is more," but her style often reflects that concept due to practical necessity.
Personality:
Vain, entitled, insecure, and sometimes wantonly cruel, Audrey is not someone that can be immediately characterized as likeable, or even tolerable. She is a narcissist, her mother's daughter, and is inherently distrustful of others and believes that everyone has some kind of ulterior motive. She isn’t necessarily conniving or manipulative, but she can be rather aggressive and forthright with her negative outlooks regarding the universe. Audrey isn’t the type to stab anyone in the back, but that doesn’t stop her from choosing the seat that’s pressed directly against the wall.
Her harsh nature has been a cultivated survival mechanism—After being brought up in an aloof high society Machiavellian household, it became clear early on that no one could be trusted for emotional support (especially not family) and that the weak surely would not inherit the Earth. Expressions of both despair and affection were met with equal amounts of disdain, and to show softness was to submit oneself to categorical humiliation. There were no tears, hugs, kisses, or what have you; there were extravagant gifts and stinging remarks in hushed tones. In other words, no ice queen is born in a vacuum.
Despite the overpowering ugliness of Audrey’s outward persona, there are primal parts of her character that expose the sort of person she would have been had circumstances been different... The sort of person she is becoming now that she has been removed from a cold emotionally toxic environment. When she cares for something or someone, she cares deeply, and is fiercely loyal until the bitter end. She is clever and boasts a wry sense of humor; she genuinely enjoys making others laugh. Lastly, she is ambitious and full of passion, possessing a fire behind her eyes that’s long burning and ever present as she pursues whatever it is that set the kindling ablaze.
Your Vices
Likes: Cigarettes, ballet, performing, late baroque art, coffee runs, neat handwriting, science fiction, boys with long eyelashes, pharmaceuticals, existentialism, trust funds, journaling, abstract math, rough kisses, Lars Von Trier, post-punk and dance-pop, intellectualism, vodka sodas, Friedrich Nietzsche, Moschino, sleeping alone
Dislikes: Doctors, hospitals, weight gain, ensure, “we need to talk,” cold showers, drug dealers, romcoms, family dinners, messy bedrooms, getting caught, "less is more," her childhood home, winter, psych intakes, watercolors and pastels, frizzy hair
Strengths: Artistic expression, staring contests, an excess of passion, grand jetés, academia, emotional resilience, loyalty to close friends, flying under the radar
Weaknesses: Serious conversations, emotional attachment, team sports, mutuality, mental health status, selfishness, insecurity, impulse control, perfectionism, expressing vulnerability
Fears: Moving back home, losing financial support, succumbing to mental illness, academic failure, never learning to hone her power
Secret: It isn't the best kept secret, but Audrey has yet to disclose her history of mental illness with her friends at Hammel.
Family Ties
Father: Oliver Vandergraaf III
Mother: Sophie Vandergraaf
Siblings: An older brother, Oliver “Ollie” Vandergraaf IV
Any Other Important People: Madam Beauchene, her primary ballet instructor
History
Audrey couldn’t remember her childhood summer home in the Hamptons, the name of her first “best friend,” her favorite movie as kid, or the first time a neighborhood boy shoved his fumbling tongue in her mouth… But she could recall the first 376 digits of Pi, every line in The Godfather trilogy, and all fifty states in alphabetical order followed by their respective capitals. Perhaps not as impressive as some of her more elite private school peers, but hey, not too shabby. Until recently, it never struck Audrey as odd that she couldn’t recall much from the first ten years of her life; not that she had some kind of retrograde amnesia or something, she knew things like her old address and the name of elementary school she attended. It was personal recollections that escaped her, like remembering the scent of her mother’s hair or the color of the wallpaper in her childhood bedroom. Was it wallpaper? Who knows.
The only intimate childhood memories she held were standing at the barre in a blush leotard and kiddie ballet slippers or the first time she performed a solo in front of an audience of overbearing stage parents, presumably including her own… Surely her mother was in attendance, even if she couldn't pin the memory of her pointed disapproving face in the crowd, but she did recall the hot lights on her skin and the fear turning in her belly as the piano first sounded throughout the auditorium. It was a good memory.
Over the past couple years, Audrey has spent plenty of time attempting to drudge up memories seated on everything from a leather chaise to a plastic folding chair to a remote controlled hospital bed. Despite their varying levels of comfort, no seating arrangement proved superior to another when it came to coaxing these stubborn recollections from their respective hiding places. So she made them up. Audrey began to tell stories about how much she adored her Grandmother’s lemon soufflé and how she would waddle around in her father’s dress shoes as a little girl; events she figured were the likely hallmarks of an entitled American childhood. She assumed correctly and the questions did stop, at least for a little while.
After years of paternal absence and maternal scorn, Audrey lost herself in ballet and compulsive starvation, refusing the budding femininity of her developing pubescent figure. "Suck it in." "Those chubby legs won't propel you off the ground." "Are you sure you want another slice? I feel sorry for that boy performing with you in your pas de deux." Everyday there was another harsh criticism from her mother, another example of her character failing; the barrage of insults had an impressive range, everything from her sour demeanor to dissatisfaction with her class ranking. Still, despite the variety of subjects her mother chose as a means of verbal humiliation, the ones that stung the most centered around her weight, how her literal physicality took up more than its fair share of space. She always knew she was a mistake, a pregnancy resulting from a dislodged IUD. Her parents had gotten it right the first time, producing a male heir to the family's real estate empire in their first attempt; Audrey had been an accidental afterthought, a little girl malady.
This is somewhat of an oversimplification, but this isn’t the place for a full psychiatric history; the 5-inch thick dossier labeled “Vandergraaf, Audrey L.” can be a testament to that. Needless to say, Audrey spent the next few years in and out of hospitals and ballet studios, a constant undercurrent of private tutoring to keep her on track academically, a few months at this facility followed by a few months at that boarding school… Etcetera etcetera. It wasn’t until her most recent hospitalization last year that something rather unusual happened.
At the age of fourteen, Audrey had been successfully weight-restored under the careful supervision of a fantastic treatment team and an excellent psychiatric facility. This meant that as a high school sophomore, she finally experienced her first period. Unfortunately, “The Loveliness of Woman” did not include a chapter on the sudden and inexplicable onset of psionic capabilities arriving alongside this monthly visitor. After inducing strange bouts of headache with each individual staff member she interacted with, it took less than 24 hours for Audrey to be whisked away to the Hammel Institute.
Technically weight-restored, but still at high risk for relapse into disordered behavior, Audrey was monitored closely by the Hammel medical staff for the first few months following her arrival. Now, well over a year later, she has adjusted rather successfully to life at the institute and has managed to maintain a somewhat healthy, admittedly low weight. She still has regular check-ups at the on-campus medical facility, just as a precautionary measure, but overall she's adapted to the less than ordinary life of a metahuman high school student.
Roleplay Example
”How can someone so young sing words so sad?” Curtis crooned along with Morrissey as he made his way onto the interstate, following the explicit navigational instructions that J-Bro had laid out for him earlier. The kid seemed like a tool at first, and he probably used to be some high school dropout pushing weed on the playground, but he sure knew his way around this city. Anyway, the point was that the older Texan trusted the boy’s instruction, and he knew that this punk wasn’t going to screw him over when the stakes were so high. After all, Curtis was the one gathering both the tools and raw materials to create a superior water purification system. The man was very well respected amongst the Lost Boys; he was a sharpshooter, a talented engineer, and never stole another man’s woman.
As Curtis neared the massive cluster of abandoned vehicles, he took in a sea of twisted metal, shattered auto glass, and gutted frames. Oh yeah, and a boatload of dismembered lifeless bodies. He didn’t even grimace, still bopping about to the Smiths as he carefully pulled onto a dirt patch just off the highway, the area shrouded by trees and silence about 30 feet from the main drag. Shifting the clutch into park, the cowboy pulled the key from the ignition, purposefully not wasting a moment of the vehicle’s battery life. His rough hand moved to his hip, inspecting the revolver in his holster and the Swiss Army Knife attached to his belt. Everything seemed to be in its proper place. The thirty-five year old then reached for a hand rolled cigarette, one of his last earthy pleasures, and he easily popped it between his chapped lips, striking a match and casting its end aflame.
”Let’s get this party started.” the sinewy man mused to himself, hooking the car keys to his belt and reaching for a large duffel bag; this mission was going to be quick, easy, and painless. The man made his way onto the hardened Dallas dirt, his feet cradled by a pair of well-constructed work boots with the frayed ends of his jeans tucked inside. Curtis was more than prepared to salvage whatever forgotten items he was bound to happen upon.
Moving with caution, his calloused fingers wrapped around the grip of his utility knife, the cigarette hanging effortlessly from his full lips. After smoking for twenty years, the man no longer needed the use of hands to accomplish such things. Everything was happening seamlessly, Curtis had already gotten his hands on a battery-powered screwdriver, when he heard a sudden commotion from a few cars down. ”What the?” he mumbled, spitting his cigarette onto the pavement as he rushed toward the sound. There was a gunshot.
After sprinting a few yards, the man saw a stunning young woman, her olive complexion splattered with gore; she was gripping a gun, her expression restless. ”Have you been bitten?” the man called out immediately, keeping a safe distance of a few feet. Curtis had maintained much more chivalry then most of the people he knew; he had no interest in living in a constant state of paranoia. What was the point of survival if you lost your humanity?
What About You?
Name: Thom
Age: 22
Experience: 12 years
How Did You Find Us? RPG-Directory
Ready To Play? Yasss
