Post by roselle on Jun 8, 2010 20:43:15 GMT -5
ROSELLE MARIE FAUST
FULL NAME: roselle marie faust
NICKNAMES: elle
AGE: seventeen
PREFERENCE: straight
HOMETOWN: new york, new york
CLASS STATUS: upper class
CURRENT STATUS: single
MEMBER GROUP: high school
PLAY BY: amye hoerner
FAVORITE FOOD?
i'm not a big fan of sweets, but white chocolate is a weakness of mine.
ARE YOU A VIRGIN?
let's just say... i wish i was.
FAVORITE COLOR?
red. scarlet red.
HAVE YOU EVER EMBARRASSED YOURSELF?
i tend to not care about those things. or even if i do feel embarrassed, i don't remember when. there's only ever been one time that i can remember. but that's something that no one needs to know about.
FAVORITE DRINK?
i like my martinis - not too hard to come by back in new york, even if you are underage - but watermelon juice is good too.
WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN FIVE YEARS?
i don't know where i'll be in a year. just somewhere where my mother isn't. traveling the world, maybe?
FAVORITE HOLIDAY?
i don't really do the holiday thing. my family - if you can call it that - never does anything special for any of them. but i guess new year's cool. you can get drunk and shit. and a new year, fresh start, i guess that's good, too.
WHAT'S ONE THING MOST PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU?
there's actually a lot of things. well, i guess one of them's pretty obvious, so i'll go with the other. i might seem like one of those rich bitches who has no interests and no real future, but that's not true. i might not know where i'll be in a couple of years, but i love photography. if i can, i might go on some trip around the world to all these different places that i can photograph. but you probably want to know some big, juicy, secret right? i don't have any mental issues... not really. but i have... issues with guys, males, boys, men, whatever you want to call them. i'm not afraid of them, exactly, i just don't like them. i won't talk to them, i won't do anything with them.
DO YOU PREFER THE NIGHT OR THE DAY?
daytime. you can't see anything at night. i mean, parties are great and all, but you won't be able to see if someone's going to mug you. or if your boyfriend is cheating on you in the shadow of a balcony.
NAME A FANTASY?
i guess i wish that i could change some things in the past. or a lot of things in the past. but i'm done with wishes, really. they never come true anyway.
A light summer breeze skittered across the sidewalk as Roselle Marie Faust exited the elegant brownstone building where she lived. She offered the doorman a quick smile before hastily smoothing down her dress with one hand. The breeze had teased the flower-print skirt of her dress up around her legs, and she really didn't need any wardrobe malfunctions right now. Running a hand through her hair, Elle strode down West 12th Street and turned at the corner to continue down Fifth Avenue. She could easily call a cab, but the short trip was more manageable on foot than in a car, and the day was so nice, it'd be a shame not to walk outside.
Washington Square Park was often overrun with a mixture of college students and tourists, but for some reason Elle liked the small rectangle of a park that was more gray pavement than green grass. It held memories. Good memories, and bad memories, but they were memories nevertheless. In only a few days, Elle would be shipped off to Miami and her grandparents' house. She didn't know when she would be back - if ever - so she intended to make the most of her last few days. She'd revisit the places that meant the most to her, refresh old memories - the cherished and the bittersweet - and say her good-byes.
As Elle meandered through Washington Square Park, she remembered certain places, certain trees. The memories flooded her mind, and she let them. For so long, she had forced herself to push away certain recollections, not wanting to feel the pain of love and love lost. Not wanting to feel the fear.
She could feel the occasional curious glance from other park-goers. The way she was dressed, she obviously looked like the rich girl she was. Perhaps even a celebrity, or the daughter of some influential figure. People were constantly trying to place her somewhere, because they found something familiar in her orange red hair and fair features. The familiarity wasn't misplaced. She was, after all, the daughter of Skye Faust, one of the many soap opera stars wandering around New York. But Elle was glad that no one spared her a second glance. She didn't like being associated with her mother.
A muffled version of "Vegas Skies" by The Cab trickled out of Elle's handbag. She quickly sat down on the nearest bench and began rummaging through her bag, trying to find her cell phone. She found it just in time for it to jingle happily with a new text message. As she quickly browsed to her inbox, Elle felt someone sit down on the bench next to her. She looked up to see a boy - no, a young man - who looked a little older than her, so he was probably in college. Most likely an NYU student. Immediately, she tensed up, her expression freezing in place so that it was stony and unwelcoming.
"Hey, you look kind of familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" the possible-NYU-student asked.
Elle quickly slipped her phone into an easily-accessible pocket of her bag. "No, you don't," she replied sharply as she stood up and walked away. Behind her, she heard a "hey, I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" but she didn't turn around. Elle didn't need boys in her life - not in any way, shape, or form.
Washington Square Park was often overrun with a mixture of college students and tourists, but for some reason Elle liked the small rectangle of a park that was more gray pavement than green grass. It held memories. Good memories, and bad memories, but they were memories nevertheless. In only a few days, Elle would be shipped off to Miami and her grandparents' house. She didn't know when she would be back - if ever - so she intended to make the most of her last few days. She'd revisit the places that meant the most to her, refresh old memories - the cherished and the bittersweet - and say her good-byes.
As Elle meandered through Washington Square Park, she remembered certain places, certain trees. The memories flooded her mind, and she let them. For so long, she had forced herself to push away certain recollections, not wanting to feel the pain of love and love lost. Not wanting to feel the fear.
She could feel the occasional curious glance from other park-goers. The way she was dressed, she obviously looked like the rich girl she was. Perhaps even a celebrity, or the daughter of some influential figure. People were constantly trying to place her somewhere, because they found something familiar in her orange red hair and fair features. The familiarity wasn't misplaced. She was, after all, the daughter of Skye Faust, one of the many soap opera stars wandering around New York. But Elle was glad that no one spared her a second glance. She didn't like being associated with her mother.
A muffled version of "Vegas Skies" by The Cab trickled out of Elle's handbag. She quickly sat down on the nearest bench and began rummaging through her bag, trying to find her cell phone. She found it just in time for it to jingle happily with a new text message. As she quickly browsed to her inbox, Elle felt someone sit down on the bench next to her. She looked up to see a boy - no, a young man - who looked a little older than her, so he was probably in college. Most likely an NYU student. Immediately, she tensed up, her expression freezing in place so that it was stony and unwelcoming.
"Hey, you look kind of familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" the possible-NYU-student asked.
Elle quickly slipped her phone into an easily-accessible pocket of her bag. "No, you don't," she replied sharply as she stood up and walked away. Behind her, she heard a "hey, I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" but she didn't turn around. Elle didn't need boys in her life - not in any way, shape, or form.
hey, it's ekkaia and this gal has been at it for
four? years now. they are fifteen years old.
