Adalaide LeMere
Jun 25, 2010 20:55:25 GMT -5
Post by Addie LeMere on Jun 25, 2010 20:55:25 GMT -5
The easy S T U F F . . .Name: Adalaide Anne LeMere
Nickname: Addie, Addie Anne
Age: 53
Member Group: Fine Arts Teacher (drawing, painting, sculpture, art history, whatever you need.)
Power(s): Telekinesis
To be able to control things with your mind might be the dream of some people, but it has always been something of a challenge for Addie. It causes mistrust, for if you can control objects, what else can you control? Some people when they find out, clutch their throat and ask, “Like Darth Vadar?” Even her ex-husband, who once found her talents fascinating, soon lost interest in them, and even referred to them as “husband and freak.” Now she is beginning to embrace her powers as she did as a young girl being trained. She uses her powers to paint and draw in new ways, even to build pottery.
Light objects are the easiest, like pens and pencils, heavier objects, like desks, take a bit more effort but she would never, ever even attempt to lift a building. That’s madness, and would likely deplete her of energy.
Play By: Meryl StreepLet it F L O W . . .Happily ever after, isn’t that what we all want? Is that what we get? Is it possible to redeem our lives? Move past our broken relationships? Sometimes, Addie LeMere thinks of herself of a mirror, once beautiful and telling, is now cracked and distorted. She once had so much promise, so much beauty in her soul, but now it seems she has lost sight of reality. At least, though she has started to heal.
Lips as red as blood... Skin as white as snow...
Her blonde hair is starting to gray, and she is lucky it has held off this long, as she is now into her fifties. Her smile, once infectious, is only starting to make reappearance in her day-to-day life. The lines on her face, which have gone deeper with age, have only made her laugh more endearing, her grin more lovely, and her beauty more timeless. Or so her friends tell her. Addie does keep herself up with minimal make up and her hair is always sensible. She likes to dress up, though she has not been on a date for, well, thirty years? In the classroom she dresses casually, and always wears a smock in painting class. Her body is still slim, and she enjoys cooking healthily, especially vegetarian dishes, though she does eat meat.
If one moves to her hands, they will see that they are aging, starting to pucker, a bit veiny now. They control the brush or the pen with quiet ease, though they year to caress and hold an absent lover. Then she met Philip J. Lincoln. After a rather boring adolescence and undergrad career or peace rallies, picketing, and all around protesting, she found herself once again at the university when she was fresh out of graduate school and doing her dream-teaching bright eyed students. She was only 25, and she was only teaching intro painting and a tools and safety class, but she was alive then. She was a dreamer, she was an activist; she wasn’t afraid of anything. Until she met Philip J. Lincoln. Then she was afraid to loose him. Then she cornered herself and boxed herself in. She gave up her dreams for him, and he left her a shell of her former self.
Prince Charming doesn’t mean he’s Mr. Right...
What man sucked in a young, vibrant artist and spewed out a middle aged, visionless woman? Philip J. Lincoln was a professor of science, six years her senior, not to mention handsome, charming, and single. He was ready to settle down, or rather, he felt having a “Mrs.” added to his address could enhance his reputation. He at first found Addie’s secret interesting; even wanted to study her for himself, though it would get old as the years went on. So Professor LeMere and Professor Lincoln were married, and Addie’s happiness was completed by the birth of her son, Xavier (25), her daughter Sophia (23), and her dearest surprise, Jack (17). Everything seemed perfect, the years rolled by, her body kept in shape by her healthy eating and dutiful exercise regiment, and she doted on her family, even insisting on family vacations. On which, of course, her husband almost always spent in the hotel room on his computer or phone on “research.” Still, she was understanding, and trusting to a fault.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?
Then of course, the happily ever after fell apart... At Philip and Addie’s 25th anniversary party, she met a woman, a tall, thin, dark haired beauty who was introduced as Philip’s research assistant Orson, Regina Orson. She would never forget that name. A few weeks later, while Philip was on sabbatical, Addie took off of work, calling in sick to her advanced painting class-a thing she never did in over twenty years of teaching- and surprised her husband up at the lake. She surprised him good- since she saw him in bed, not mounting his prize fish, but rather his research assistant.
The marriage ended, and the woman crumbled. She loved him, she truly loved him, respected him, was loyal to him, and yet he had an affair. Questions invaded her mind, “was this the first woman?” “what else did he lie about?” “was his feelings for me ever true?” It drove her mad, so mad in fact, things like vases would randomly burst as she walked past. She decided the University held too many memories and quit her job. For the past two years she has been an artist working out of her home, living on savings and alimony. Her home is near empty, as her son Xavier is out on his own, working on his master’s degree, her daughter recently got engaged, and her son Jack attends the Hammel Institute, and is often away with friends. At the urging of her daughter, she has recently taken a new teaching job, at the very school her own gifted son attends.
The mirror may be put back together, but the cracks will always remain as a reminder of how she was broken, though she may be more distinguished for it.
Behind the M A S K . . .Name: Scribbles, Scribby, Scribblicious
Age: twenty-one and three quarters.
RP Experience: typing? Since the 5th grade, or more specifically, roleplaying, for a few years now.
How did you find us?: –enter clever and witty saying here-Show your S K I L L S . . .The phone rang. Addie looked down at her meager breakfast of a grapefruit and a slice of toast, low fat butter, of course. She had just got done pouring herself a glass of milk when it rang. Who would be calling her at this hour? Before school? Jack was still upstairs in the bathroom, so it left her to answer it. She hated telephones. Hated to call, hated to answer, hated to talk. Conversations got awkward and boring, with the exception of her children. She never tired of hearing their voices. But it wouldn’t be them. Xavier would already be at his job. Sophia would be dropping the baby off at the sitter. And Jack, of course, was in the bathroom.
The phone rang again, as if reminding her angerly that she still hadn’t moved. She stood up and stepped towards it. She picked it up slowly, then worried that something happened to Xavier or Sophie on their way to work. “Hello?” She answered hesitantly.
~Hello, Addie, oh it is good to hear your voice.~ A man said from the other line. She knew exactly who it was and could not find words to express herself. Though she had never been one for words in the first place, she drew her feelings or expressed it in paint. Still, it didn’t take away from the fact that it was her ex calling. She had been waiting for Philip Lincoln to call her for the past two years, to say she had been dreaming, to say he was sorry, even, but he never did. He let her down again. Now that she was finally moving on in her life, finally getting back to what she loved- teaching art- he was calling her.
“Oh, uh, hello, Phil, what’s going on?” She asked, suddenly worried again that something had happened to their kids. Why else would he call her?
~No,~ the voice came, the one that used to make her melt, ~nothing is wrong, I was just sitting here on the beach wondering about you. I thought, ‘Well, it’s been over a year since I talked to old Ads,~
Yeah, over a year and a half since the divorce was final, and that was the last word between them. She gave a light façade of a laugh, “Oh, how nice of you to call, only I can’t talk, I recently got a job, you see, at Hammel Institute-“
~That freak school you let our son go to? Adalaide, you know how I feel about that place. I did notice you halted the alimony payments. Thanks. But still...~
“Freak, Phil, really? Jack has a special gift, he is not a freak, and, and neither am I.” Of course, he had not called Jack a freak, though he had called her one on occasion. She had not heard the steps coming down the stairs, she hadn’t heard the footsteps come into the kitchen, and she didn’t know that Jack heard it all until she turned and saw the tall youth standing there. “Phil, I think I better get going now. Goodbye.” .
