Isabelle Colette Amherst
Mar 28, 2010 5:54:32 GMT -5
Post by Isabelle Amherst on Mar 28, 2010 5:54:32 GMT -5
The easy S T U F F . . .Name: Isabelle Colette Amherst
Nickname: Isy, Isis, or Belles
Age: Sixteen
Member Group: Student
Power(s):
Precognition – Ability to tell the future. Can be through dreams, or while awake, and is a more difficult power to recognize when young. Untrained, these visions are random and uncontrolled, but with training, they can scan the future at will. Side effects of this tend to manifest in paranoia, and severe migraines.
Play By: Alyson Michalka.Let it F L O W . . .
Hello, stranger. My name's Isabelle Colette Amherst. Don't wear it out, sweet pea. Here's the deal. I'm really chill. I'm not the kind of girl who flips out over the dumbest little things and expects her boyfriend to treat her like a queen while she acts like a biznatch. In fact, those types of chicks bother the heck out of me. If I ever act like that, you have my whole-hearted permission to slap me across the face, hard. Seriously, though, it's almost impossible to make me angry. I'm usually all smiles, and I'll strike up a conversation with anyone-- stray dog, random homeless person, or President of the United States, doesn't really make a difference to me. If you ever do manage get my panties in a bunch, then I salute you, sir or madam. You have accomplished a feat that many others have attempted and failed.
One thing you'll learn about me really, really quickly is that I'm not really a rule-follower. My best friend says I'm a rebel without a cause. Eh, I really just like to do my own thing, you know?! My best friend, Justin, always laughs at me when I say that. He says that I must have been a premature baby, because I would have somehow --don't ask him how-- noticed all of the other babies coming out at nine months, so I called them all conformists and decided to "do my own thing." Plus, he says, he doesn't believe I was ever capable of staying still in a confined space for whole nine months straight. Ha. Justin's amazing, by the way. Such a dork. When he found out I was being sent away, he bought me a silver bell and got it engraved-- "My best friend is a belle." I can still see the dorky lopsided grin on his face when he gave it to me. "Get it? 'Cause you're a belle. And your name is Isabelle. And it's a bell! Get it? Get it?" Man, that kid is something. Anyway, back on track. He says I'm a wild one, and I guess he's right. Don't be alarmed if you see me sneaking out of my second story window at three in the morning just to walk around the block. I'm essentially harmless, honestly. I just don't like being told what I may or may not do. In fact, if you ever try to tell me what to do, I reserve the right to do the exact opposite. It's just an impulse of mine. Fair warning!
Hey, by the way, I'm from Chicago-- land of the suits and ties. Gross, right? And my parents were at the top of the pyramid. My dad is the mayor of the place. My mom is the chairwoman for some big corporation. They were in love when they had me, and things were peaches and cream when I was a kid. By the way, my mom immigrated from France, so she spoke to me in French when I was still a kid, which is why the language will always be near and dear to my heart, and I have a habit of throwing random phrases of butchered French into my speech. But anyway, from the time that my parents came to Chicago, they both had big dreams and destinies to fulfill, and they were convinced that they could do it with a kid on their arm. Boy, were they wrong. They both beat the odds and succeeded at their careers with flying colors, though. Eventually, their careers just became way more important than the little girl sitting at home. As soon as I was smart enough to look out for myself, they left me at home for weeks at a time with very few instructions and large sums of money, as if that would make up for their absence. Wanna know a secret? That's part of the reason I refuse to obey the rules. I did everything I could to get their attention, and the more I acted up, the more distant they seemed to become. Before long, it seemed like they were trying to hide me from the public. Didn't want the world to know that behind the perfect smiles that they displayed at the press conferences, they had a dirty little secret, a defected little daughter that they couldn't seem to fix.
As soon as my powers manifested at around fifteen (heh, guess you could say I'm a late bloomer) they jumped at the chance to ship me off to this here institute. Awesome, right? Here's the kicker. To make up for sending me away, they gave me this antique red mustang as a present. I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty awesome, but it really irks me that they think that if they just pay me enough, I'll be a good little girl and not tarnish their good name. Yeah right.
Oh hey, do you want to hear something kind of funny? I have all of these really random phobias. Like, I'm terrified of electric staplers. Stop laughing! Those things are freaking scary, mannn. You try to stick your paper in and they practically bite your finger off. I also don't like escalators. What happens if I miss a step? I'll go tumbling down the whole thing and it'll really freaking hurt, that's what. Another phobia of mine is being tickled. I hate being tickled. Wipe that smirk off of your face. Tickling is a serious matter.
In case you haven't already noticed, I go off on a lot of tangents when I'm talking. It's because I have A.D.D., and it's just one of my many strange quirks and habits. I also have a tendency to be very random and to make a joke out of anything and everything, no matter how serious it is. One more thing. I'm always doodling something whether it's something that's been on my mind or my latest vision or something completely random. Oh, my visions! Did I forget to tell you that I have a power? Yeah, I'm kind of absentminded like that. Justin's always calling me an airhead, but he loves me anyway. Now back to my visions. I can see into the future. Sometimes during the day, sometimes while I'm sleeping. A lot of people think it would be scary, but I'm not freaked out by it. It kind of makes life more interesting, actually. Whenever I have a vision, I try to draw it out. Now, I'm really not the best artist, so you'll have to excuse the stick figures and deformed trees and whatnot.
Before I forget, you should probably know that I do have a boyfriend. His name is Sinclair Gabriel, and he goes to Hammel Institute, too. I'm not really a romantic. In fact, I cringe at the slightest display of corniness, I laugh hysterically while reading bad romance novels, and I kind of fail at showing any real emotion, so I'm not going to go off on a mushy gushy lovey dovey rant about how much I love him, but he is pretty darn amazing-- and I guess, you could say, I do sort of... love him. Did you see me cringe? I mean it, though. He is the only guy on this planet who can accept that I'm always going to be a loose cannon, an uncontrollable and unpredictable force that may decide to do something completely insane at any moment. He doesn't always like it, and he worries about me a lot (thinks I'll hurt myself or something), but he accepts it, and that's good enough for me. Plus, he's not like all of the clones and sheep in this world. Most people are so predictable, and it frustrates me to go through the generic "How are you? Good, and you?" conversations of everyday life. Sinclair doesn't just humor my strangeness, he responds with his own, and it's refreshing to have someone that doesn't act exactly like everyone else.
Well, that's far from everything about me, but I'm not really the kind of person that can be defined on paper anyhow. You'd have to have an adventure with me to really get to know me, so why don't we do that sometime, yeah? Yeah. End transaction!Behind the M A S K . . .Name: Anna
Age: Sixteen
RP Experience: On and off since the age of eleven.
How did you find us?: Shea sent me.Show your S K I L L S . . .
"Il aime moi. Il n'aime pas moi. Il aime moi. Il n'aime pas moi. Il aime moi...," Isabelle said cheerfully in her native tongue to herself as she peeled the petals, one by one, from a flower that she had picked. As she did this, she wandered absentmindedly around the cliff, paying no regard at all as to where she stepped or what direction she was headed. It was her first day in town and her last day of freedom before she would be forced to attend some magic school called Xavier Institute. She was determined to enjoy it no matter what.
"Oh no. Il 'naime pas moi," sighed the saddened Isabelle with disappointment as the flower's very last pink petal floated softly and elegantly from Isabelle's pale hand to the green grass of the cliff. Slightly distressed by this, Isabelle stopped walking for a while, bit the corner of her coral red lip, and stared intently at the thin, flimsy stem of the now petal-less flower. "Hmmm." Suddenly, her lips curled into her usual grin as she appeared to have a major epiphany. "The stem counts, right? It totally does! Il aime moi. He loves me!" Isabelle exclaimed happily and proudly. She tossed the stem into the air with a feeling of triumph, letting the wind carry it, and then started to walk away with a bright smile on her face.
"HOLY FRICKEN' BANANAS!" Having not been paying any heed to her steps, Isabelle was about a millisecond away from walking right off of the cliff, but luckily, she was able to throw her weight backward and fall clumsily on her back. Still painful yet much more pleasant than falling onto the beach... where there were sharp rocks... and broken glass.
"Owwwww," she moaned, closing her eyes. A second passed, then a few moments, and then the strangest thing happened. She started to laugh loudly to no one other than herself, at her own clumsiness and idiocy. She snorted a few times and then started to sit up and rub the back of her neck. "Well, that could've been bad."
{Sort of a short one, but I don't have many introductory posts with her, and I'm too tired to write one right now. Hopefully this is okay.}
