Post by juno on Jun 11, 2010 19:42:47 GMT -5
HANNA AGNES FILIPOV
FULL NAME: hanna agnes filipov
NICKNAMES: n/a
AGE: twenty.
PREFERENCE: whatever goes.
HOMETOWN: moscow, russia.
CLASS STATUS: upper class.
CURRENT STATUS: single.
MEMBER GROUP: tourist.
PLAY BY: maryna linchuk
FAVORITE FOOD?
celery and peanut butter. nutritious and delicious.
ARE YOU A VIRGIN?
no. my father would like to believe otherwise, but what he doesn't know won't cause him to hemorrhage.
FAVORITE COLOR?
pink. it's all girly and fun.. and shit.
HAVE YOU EVER EMBARRASSED YOURSELF?
yeah, of course! all the time, actually. like last week, i was trying to order a coffee and i kept saying latte instead, but when he'd go to make it i kept telling that poor barista that's not what i wanted. he got mad at me, but i got my coffee in the end. i always end up with what i want.
FAVORITE DRINK?
water.
WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN FIVE YEARS?
hopefully not in jail. that would be bad.
FAVORITE HOLIDAY?
easter. no one looks at you like you're fat if you eat what you actually want on easter. i just happen to do that on a ridiculous scale...
WHAT'S ONE THING MOST PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU?
i actually sort of don't hate justin bieber. sort of. i admire him for taking his criticism like a man.
DO YOU PREFER THE NIGHT OR THE DAY?
day time. there's no sun at night...
NAME A FANTASY?
um. be woken up like sleeping beauty from a long sleep? i don't know. who thinks of this shit?
Peculiar.
It was one way to describe the eclectic fashion sense of the redheaded girl, her pale skin highlighted by merely a move in the darkness. Judging by the shape of her face, you could tell of her wealth, the aristocratic curve at the end of her nose and the high cheekbones. Even her blemish-free skin suggested the wealthiness, the heredity that had brought her such traditional good looks, left her standing, scars on her knees, in a group full of people who also shared in her wealth. It seemed as though there were only a select few individuals in the entire school who didn't necessarily roll in money whenever they bathed, and although Ezzie wished fervently that she were one of those, the choice to be living in a well-endowed world was obviously. Perhaps eclectic was better suited to describe her hectic ascent into wealth and fortune, perhaps it better showed the scarred flesh of her knees and suited the slow, gentle curve of her spine where decent posture had never set in. she wasn't a model, she didn't push one hundred pounds with her ridiculously elongated figure and crankiness set in regularly, among a variety of other emotions that helped the twenty year old to believe there was something more then simply hormones at the helm of her emotional control. Lips curling just slightly, she tapped cotton-candy pink finger nails against the side of her body and paused in the motion, her other arm wrapped comfortable around that of her long-time girlfriend and high-school sweetheart, Carolina Bernice Astoria. As children, they'd made fun of the name. As adults, they were astounded by it's power. Everyone recognized the link to the powerful, and Caro was no different from any of the rest. She too shared in a series of features and mannerisms that oozed money, old money too. Ezzie's and Caro's parents had been friends since the two could remember, careful partners in the world of deceit and infinite funds that the children had grown up in; they'd exchanged stock tips over dinner and wine labels over brunch on numerous occasions, often times leaving the girls to their own accord, during which the friends, at that time, had tousled each other's hair and played with dolls. They'd been friends for forever, but the development of a relation was fairly new in terms of their lives.
They shared their first kiss together, at eleven, housed under the jungle gym, sweaty palms glued to each other's cheeks as they'd seen each other's parents do. An expression of affection, at first. And curiosity. Ezzie hadn't trusted any of her male friends, didn't want the attachment she understood came from your first school yard rush, and yet she understood as well that she didn't necessarily harbor the attraction that she found in other people. There were small children everywhere around her that liked the boys and while she would admit that some of them were okay, her first aware crush was on – who else – Carolina. She'd caught the girl smooching on a boy no more then a week after their exchange of truth, and tears had streaked her dusty cheeks as she'd made her way home from school. Feigning illness, she'd laid on her mother's bed and cried, unable to explain herself for fear of rejection. Innocence didn't last long, her mother's efforts to interest her in something other then what she'd found her only daughter, only child to be honest, submersed in, failing immensely. Burning kisses were planted on cheeks that evening, the next morning as the girls rose for church was tense and anxious, and when they found it impossible to sit next to each other without holding hands (whereas the trivial position before had held limited meaning, now it was heavy with indication), Ezzie was the first to leave. Breathing heavily outside of the church, sitting on the steps with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, eyes squeezed shut, she felt the feather-light weight of a palm brushing against her cheek, and it was Carolina. She'd always been there for her, and Ezzie would have liked to believe that had gone both ways, but the reality was different. She'd abandoned her in favor of UCLA, and reacted negatively when she'd surfaced there too. Ever the one who was afraid of the magnitude of her own thoughts and feelings, Ezzie found nothing more settling then the silence that surrounded her when she first came to the school, but then things had grown dull and boring, she became listless and frustrated; the yearning for her counterpart ridiculously consuming. The pressure that was relieved when she first saw that gap-toothed smile again was enough to send her immediately back to the stairs again, her chest heaving and her eyes squeezed shut, just like she was a child again and her emotions were too overwhelming to deal with.
Thick, tangled mess of crucifixes hanging from her slender neck, she nuzzled her nose into Caro's neck as they walked, breathing in the comfortable, familiar scent that being surrounded by someone you knew emitted. She'd give anything to stay here forever, to be by her side forever and never have personal space; she'd give up her own privacy for the girl, she'd live in a box, without a box, even. She'd pimp herself out if she was asked. The extent of her devotion was so strong it was personally harmful, and they were destructive to each other, together. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she prompted a glance from the other female and smirked, devilish. “What's the plan for today, then?” words were slurred, steps were slightly dragged on the cement. There were red rings around her nostrils where cocaine had been sniffed and the sunglasses presiding over her eyes were further proof of her currently fucked up state; their three-day drug binge had been a smashing success, she felt in control and powerful, manipulative and beautiful, and over all, the best she'd felt in a long while.
It was one way to describe the eclectic fashion sense of the redheaded girl, her pale skin highlighted by merely a move in the darkness. Judging by the shape of her face, you could tell of her wealth, the aristocratic curve at the end of her nose and the high cheekbones. Even her blemish-free skin suggested the wealthiness, the heredity that had brought her such traditional good looks, left her standing, scars on her knees, in a group full of people who also shared in her wealth. It seemed as though there were only a select few individuals in the entire school who didn't necessarily roll in money whenever they bathed, and although Ezzie wished fervently that she were one of those, the choice to be living in a well-endowed world was obviously. Perhaps eclectic was better suited to describe her hectic ascent into wealth and fortune, perhaps it better showed the scarred flesh of her knees and suited the slow, gentle curve of her spine where decent posture had never set in. she wasn't a model, she didn't push one hundred pounds with her ridiculously elongated figure and crankiness set in regularly, among a variety of other emotions that helped the twenty year old to believe there was something more then simply hormones at the helm of her emotional control. Lips curling just slightly, she tapped cotton-candy pink finger nails against the side of her body and paused in the motion, her other arm wrapped comfortable around that of her long-time girlfriend and high-school sweetheart, Carolina Bernice Astoria. As children, they'd made fun of the name. As adults, they were astounded by it's power. Everyone recognized the link to the powerful, and Caro was no different from any of the rest. She too shared in a series of features and mannerisms that oozed money, old money too. Ezzie's and Caro's parents had been friends since the two could remember, careful partners in the world of deceit and infinite funds that the children had grown up in; they'd exchanged stock tips over dinner and wine labels over brunch on numerous occasions, often times leaving the girls to their own accord, during which the friends, at that time, had tousled each other's hair and played with dolls. They'd been friends for forever, but the development of a relation was fairly new in terms of their lives.
They shared their first kiss together, at eleven, housed under the jungle gym, sweaty palms glued to each other's cheeks as they'd seen each other's parents do. An expression of affection, at first. And curiosity. Ezzie hadn't trusted any of her male friends, didn't want the attachment she understood came from your first school yard rush, and yet she understood as well that she didn't necessarily harbor the attraction that she found in other people. There were small children everywhere around her that liked the boys and while she would admit that some of them were okay, her first aware crush was on – who else – Carolina. She'd caught the girl smooching on a boy no more then a week after their exchange of truth, and tears had streaked her dusty cheeks as she'd made her way home from school. Feigning illness, she'd laid on her mother's bed and cried, unable to explain herself for fear of rejection. Innocence didn't last long, her mother's efforts to interest her in something other then what she'd found her only daughter, only child to be honest, submersed in, failing immensely. Burning kisses were planted on cheeks that evening, the next morning as the girls rose for church was tense and anxious, and when they found it impossible to sit next to each other without holding hands (whereas the trivial position before had held limited meaning, now it was heavy with indication), Ezzie was the first to leave. Breathing heavily outside of the church, sitting on the steps with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, eyes squeezed shut, she felt the feather-light weight of a palm brushing against her cheek, and it was Carolina. She'd always been there for her, and Ezzie would have liked to believe that had gone both ways, but the reality was different. She'd abandoned her in favor of UCLA, and reacted negatively when she'd surfaced there too. Ever the one who was afraid of the magnitude of her own thoughts and feelings, Ezzie found nothing more settling then the silence that surrounded her when she first came to the school, but then things had grown dull and boring, she became listless and frustrated; the yearning for her counterpart ridiculously consuming. The pressure that was relieved when she first saw that gap-toothed smile again was enough to send her immediately back to the stairs again, her chest heaving and her eyes squeezed shut, just like she was a child again and her emotions were too overwhelming to deal with.
Thick, tangled mess of crucifixes hanging from her slender neck, she nuzzled her nose into Caro's neck as they walked, breathing in the comfortable, familiar scent that being surrounded by someone you knew emitted. She'd give anything to stay here forever, to be by her side forever and never have personal space; she'd give up her own privacy for the girl, she'd live in a box, without a box, even. She'd pimp herself out if she was asked. The extent of her devotion was so strong it was personally harmful, and they were destructive to each other, together. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she prompted a glance from the other female and smirked, devilish. “What's the plan for today, then?” words were slurred, steps were slightly dragged on the cement. There were red rings around her nostrils where cocaine had been sniffed and the sunglasses presiding over her eyes were further proof of her currently fucked up state; their three-day drug binge had been a smashing success, she felt in control and powerful, manipulative and beautiful, and over all, the best she'd felt in a long while.
hey, it's juno and this gal has been at it for
around three years now. they are 5,134 years old.
