Aniston St. Albane May 21, 2011 22:45:32 GMT -5
Post by Aniston St. Albane on May 21, 2011 22:45:32 GMT -5
GENDER: Female <3
ROLEPLAY EXPERIENCE: 12 years.
OTHER CHARACTERS: Soon. Soon.
HOW YOU FOUND US: Imps!
ANISTON ST. ALBANE
“If she had the proper words to say she would tell him – but she’d have nothing left to sell him.”
BIRTHDAY: December 24
PLAY-BY: AnnaSophia Robb
Aniston considers herself a typical blonde. When she looks in the mirror she sees a chiseled face where she would prefer her cheekbones to soften and a dimpled chin that she considers more manly than ultra-feminine. Over all, her features blend into one another and create a façade that, when she smiles, could be considered pretty – but not beautiful. Who, honestly, thinks they’re beautiful at fifteen years old?
At fifteen, all one seems to see are the flaws rather than the beautiful little aspects of one’s appearance. With wide set eyes and a set of lips that always seem to have coral colored lip-stain applied to them, Aniston masks what little has developed of her youthful appearance with cosmetics – as many of her little friends, well, girls who used to be her little friends do.
She considers her wavy, shoulder length blonde hair to be her best trait and has become a master of the straightening iron and curlers until it is always in place. She loves the look of lush curls and dramatic up-does, even when just going to class. Hazel-gray eyes are usually made more dramatic with dark eyeliner and mascara, giving them a more vulnerable look on the rare chance Ani is caught without makeup on. The girl hates the shape of her nose and one day, when all of this seclusion blows over, hopes to have a nose job to make it more of a button nose rather than the big blocky thing she has now.
Body wise, Aniston likes to imagine that everything hasn’t quite grown in and hopes to be much bigger in the blouse department. For now though, she settles for water bras and the occasional stuffing that her outfits might require. Good genetics from her mother have given her a wispy, narrow hipped frame with long, lean legs but she would prefer to have more curves than one-lane highways. She prefers extremely feminine clothing, mostly dresses and lovely flats, or skirts with tights and knee high boots. Though attending school away from the States has put a wrench in her shopping habits, she always tries to stay with this season’s fashion, even if it doesn’t always happen. You’ll hardly ever see her wearing heels because she feels that the extra height makes her already tall frame look like a certain African animal’s cousin.
The girl walks with a straight spine, thanks to etiquette and piano lessons with Ms. Redding – her dreaded personal tutor from home – and will seldom be seen walking slowly or strolling. She’s a fast walker, usually a flurry of a cardigan and a skirt and moves with a certain determination. Not always the most graceful girl, Ani often loses her balance and finds herself doing embarrassing things – perhaps she just hasn’t grown to identify with all of her moving parts yet.
As much as Aniston sees herself as a Saint – she’s actually a spoiled little rich bitch – no offense to bitches meant. Self-absorbed at times, indifferent to what it means to not have means, she has traits that could be blamed on her parents’ upbringing, but often lie seeded within a person despite that. Raised as a child to a wealthy family, the girl simply doesn’t know what, “the end of the month,” or “allowance,” means – though she’s learning quickly since she was cast out of her home. Her family still supports her, of course, despite the distance, but it is nothing like living in the Bankhead district of Atlanta, Georgia anymore. Shopping trips no longer involve couture clothing or daddy’s platinum card, so you’ll have to forgive her ignorance when it comes to understanding financial burdens or troubles.
She is attracted to wealth, or perhaps she only identifies with “richness” a little bit better than otherwise. At the same time, she is fascinated by poverty and by people who have been troubled by things she’s never heard of – like orphanages or emancipated minors – and finds herself also drawn to darker types of personalities. Usually, they don’t like her very much, despite her fascination, something about being blonde, teetering, and slightly air-headed.
When God was handing out common sense, Aniston was at the back of the line, distracted by something shiny. She compensates by being amazingly adept at schoolwork and “book-smarts” – she almost memorizes anything she reads. People find it incredible that someone who is so inexperienced at life and everyday things (like changing tires) can understand organic chemistry. Aniston craves education and can often be found reading obscure texts, especially in Latin – a language she was educated in by that same dreaded tutor from childhood.
Nice to a point, Ani can also be a bit sour when engaging in conversation, especially if she simply isn’t in the mood to be spoken to. Sometimes unwittingly sarcastic, she has a few problems making friends and doesn’t open up very well. It becomes obvious that she was a child who didn’t play with other children much and when she did, she didn’t play very nice. It always seems as if Aniston is waiting for someone else to walk up and join the conversation – and if something in her personality is missing. Have you ever met a person who was simply more fun around their best friend – a half to a whole? Then, you’ve likely met someone like Aniston St. Albane.
Aniston is the first and only child born to her mother, Jenni Parker-St. Albane and her late husband Alfred St. Albane. Her father died at 64, only three months after her birth, of heart disease and complications associated with it. Her mother, 21 at the time of her husband’s death, found herself the heiress to a family fortune of unknown means but simply couldn’t convince herself to lie down and die with him. She remarried only five months after her husband’s death to one of the equestrian handlers that worked at her late husband’s horse stable and racing stadium. Rumors ran rampant that the two had been acquainted before the untimely death of Aniston’s dear “Daddy Alfred,” but her mother vehemently denied the accusations and moved her once again full family out of the northern part of the United States and relocated in sunny, southern Georgia where she had come from originally. Jenni’s new husband had a son from a previous marriage who also joined their family upon their marriage. Bryce, at only two years old himself, was raised with Aniston as simply her older brother and their parents left out all of the mess involving the two separate marriages out of what they told the children.
Now, well-to-do families seem to unintentionally isolate their children from the rest of the world. Whereas normal kids go to public school, between private school and tutoring, rich parents like the St. Albanes (for some reason, Jennie convinced her new husband to take her name instead) always want to give their children something better. Ani and Bryce, therefore, were kept together in very close quarters and became each other’s only playmates on many occasions. Between a stay at home nanny and a set of far traveling parents, the kids found each other to be the only true companionship they each could count on. The two remarkably similar, blonde and light colored eye babies became best friends and partners in crime, always a team of their own against anyone else who entered their home.
They wreaked havoc against nannies and tutors, tore the industrial sized kitchen in the medium sized manor to shreds in search of delicacies like “honey-buns” that the chef sometimes stocked, and played on the immense grounds of their home together. The two grew up together, a big brother and his little sister, as close as two children could be without having been born from the same womb. Of course, there was no way they could have known the difference in their beginnings.
As the kids grew, the differences between the two of them started to show in slight ways, but nothing that would suggest that they had different mothers and fathers. Ani’s hair grew darker streaks than Bryce’s platinum blonde, and Bryce’s eyes shifted to a deep cerulean blue while Ani’s headed toward a grayish hazel. Bryce became an adroit horseman in his own right, maintaining the family’s small stable of ten horses completely on his own and riding them on the acres that they owned. Aniston became a woman of the world – at least in the books she was reading – and drew farther into her self-education, as well as her relationships with her private school friends she had insisted upon developing. At the same time, at ten years old, one of Aniston’s favorite things to do was to hug her brother after he had put hay in the barn for the horses, breathing deeply into the smell of warm dried grass and the smell of laundry soap that Bryce managed to make special.
Something had changed between the two them that Aniston didn’t understand. Whenever she asked frank questions about a new foal being born, Bryce just blushed and told her to shut up instead of explained it patiently and he would have when they were younger. He didn’t like kisses on the cheek or to tuck her in at night in place of their parents anymore. It almost made her want to cry, but at the same time, something in her stomach felt weird whenever she looked at him as well. On the one sleepover that she had with some school friends, she spent the entire night angry after all of the girls from her class decided that they would marry Bryce one day – because he was cute, obviously. Something about the whole situation made Aniston angry – Bryce was her brother and no one would marry him. Not now, and certainly not ever.
It was then that the dreams started, or, the nightmares that only Bryce seemed able to chase away when he would sleep in the rocking chair next to her bed, holding her hand. On the isolated patch of land, they were able to keep them a secret for some time. Housekeepers and tutors were dismissed from service and the St. Albanes came home from their eternal vacation, sun-tanned and happy, only to talk low in the dining room while Bryce and Aniston listened at the door. Specialists came to watch her sleep and left the house when the screams started and the unnatural whispers left her lips. She was possessed, some said – of the Devil, others claimed. Her mother cried – her father held her sweetly, and Aniston and Bryce stared at them like they were strangers.
It was decided, the night when Aniston slept walk and Bryce claimed that she had glowing blue eyes, like a machine, that something would have to be done about what the St. Albane’s had begun calling, “night terrors.” They said that she was going away to school, like a princess would do – like a true lady of leisure needed as they aged and grew. Aniston suspected it was just to get rid of her and cried in protest, but in some part of her she knew that she was going no matter what she wanted, or what her parents truly wanted. It seemed as if she was in the hands of someone else now, someone who knew more than she did about her own body.
In the years that followed her departure from home, she adjusted well to the new school she was attending. She loved the vast amount of knowledge the staff possessed and the immense library that she could pull from in her spare time. Of course, she made friends quite quickly despite her rather isolated childhood, finding the companionship she had once sought in her older brother in many flitty little girls much like herself that had also been taken away from their families. But, within those relationships, there was still a feeling missing, a pang that she never quite understood.
Letters from home would come occasionally, with the return address marked out. When she returned them, it might be months before she received another, usually dated long in the past. She caught brief glimpses of her brother’s day-to-day life, and her parents rarely sent more than a postcard – true to their free-spirited form. Mostly, she missed Bryce but in her thoughts of him, there was also something dark that she knew shouldn’t be there, especially not for one’s brother. That feeling, society declared to be wrong, so Aniston simply didn’t think about it. She never mentions it now and when she speaks about her brother, there’s a sadness that lingers in her voice that isn’t quite explained away by her words.
THE ILLUSION : UNKNOWN : UNKNOWN
THE ILLUSION : UNKNOWN : UNKNOWN
Aniston’s Chimera form is that of a bound, androgynous body. Often hidden in the shadows of the Reverie, one most often sees a silhouette of something tall and lithe, usually around seven and a half to eight foot tall. Encircled, almost enchained in silk bands, the figure is literally mummified and bound to the point of no recognition. Perhaps her form is the manifestation of feelings she isn’t ready to understand and words she isn’t able to say – the appearance of social boundaries that assumed incest isn’t ready to break through. The figure is unable to speak but moves quite expressively, almost like an unnatural dancer, and as a whole, her Chimera has an eerie feeling to it.