AISHA

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...basics*

name...

[/b][/size] Aisha. Kinda one name. Like Madonna, or Cher.
nickname...[/b][/size] Max calls her Blue, but only Max. Otherwise, she doesn't have any nicknames.
age...[/b][/size] 19
gender...[/b][/size] Female
grade...[/b][/size] None
occupation...[/b][/size] What occupation? She'll lift from people's pockets, or dance for a bit of change in the park if times are really hard.
hometown...[/b][/size] She doesn't have a home town, persay. She's moved around a bit in the tri-state area.
sexuality...[/b][/size] If she has a choice, she'll choose a male. However, she wouldn't snub her nose at a female either.
personification...[/b][/size] La Esmeralda
status...[/b][/size] She's dormant, though there seems to be weird things happening. Like, she's understanding French better that has nothing to do with Alex, and sometimes she feels extremely depressed--and even at times hears a few whispers in her ear.
face claim...[/b][/size] Megan Fox. 'Cause really, though.[/blockquote]

...appearance*

physical...

[/b][/size] Aisha is no frail creature. She may appear dainty at times with certain clothes, but she's lived on her own for most of her life. Her nails are kept short, and have a thin layer of dirt around the edges that only hard scrubbing could hope to clean. Her skin is tanned from days in the sun, and has a healthy golden glow, even though she doesn't quite eat the best.

Her legs have a strong muscle to them, used to dancing and walking long distances. Though she's a pretty girl, she's almost a bit grimey. Her hair nearly jet black in the winter, but in the summer it lightens to a more brown color, however at times it looks a bit heavy and somewhat oily. She does enjoy baths, but they're hard to come by at times, so occasionally she's dirty in the way that paper towels in the bathroom just won't do.

At times, Aisha has a severe looking expression. It at times makes her appear that she's older than her nineteen years, but this is more often a protection method. She's learned that if you can look and act tougher than you are, then people tend to not bother with you. However, there are moments where she's a bit doe-eyed, and she can be quite naive at times. Everyone gets the benefit of the doubt at first, and though she may harbor jealousy for those with beds and showers--she's curious as to how they live, and at times asks a few too many questions.
defining traits...[/b][/size] The most defining trait that she has are her eyes. Unlike some people who use makeup to enhance the shade of their eyes, Aisha rarely wears makeup. Her eyes are just that blue. They burn like a cold fire, and have an almost inhuman look to them. They are the bright blue of the Caribbean, untouched by flecks of brown or green. Just two drops of an absolutely pure blue. [/blockquote]

...personal info*

personality...

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At times Aisha can be difficult, but she really tries not to be. She's a bit lost at times, and doesn't understand that she is prone to being shallow and hypocritical. She may say one thing is bad, but the second backs are turned she'll go and do it anyway because it seemed like a good idea. Aisha lives in a rather bleak sort of enviornment, so she's discovered that she likes pretty things. Jewels, flowers, people. If they aren't pretty, she tends to not appreciate it quite so much. It's not greed, or being spoiled--it's simply just how she feels.

When it comes to her family, she falls into the big sister category, little only to Max. Even at times she tries to push a bit of sense into her brother, however this often fails. She's learned to love him for it though, and believes that he wouldn't lead their little group astray--so she often does as he says. She tends to be a follower instead of a leader, but it's not uncommon that she stands up for other street urchins that are being picked on by those with more.

With the follower comment being said, she takes things at face value. With a little bit of work, you could probably convince Aisha that the sky is made of cotton candy and she'll hang onto your every word. This can come at a price, however. She's managed to stay alive by tricking the very people that tend to trick her back. It wouldn't be the first time that she pretended to be interested in someone because they had a bed--only to be told they loved her and have her heart broken in the end.

At times, she can slightly stand-offish--especially around prudes. She relies on gimmics and performance tricks to be able to afford a nice cold drink on a hot day, so when people turn their noses in the air, that lovely doll face of hers hardens up and it's very hard to get through to her at these points. She almost shuts down in a way, and this is when Aisha either holes up in her room in the sewers, or she disappears into the jungle of New York, often coming back with new clothes and hot food.

Though she may have a shallow and childish outlook on life, she has gone through her own hardships. She's been orphaned, managed to narrowly escape life in the foster care system, she's been abused and thrown away. Sneered and leered at. A long time ago, something within her died. So no matter how big her smile is, or how warm her face appears--there's something just a little bit empty deep down inside.


life until now...[/b][/size] Life had not been kind to Alexania Korzofick. The group of people she belonged to was a small group of nomads, sometimes called Romani. They moved from place to place, usually around the outskirts of town, setting up camps and doing fortune telling for the locals for a bit of money. However, one young woman, Nadya was a bit tired of the always travelling, and wanted to lay down roots. She did this with a young entrepreneur in the local (at the time) city. The affair lasted for a few months, before Nadya was forced to move yet again. She had hoped that the young man would marry her, but after finding he had knocked up a homeless woman--he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

Nadya gave birth several months later to Alexania. She had her mother's dark hair; her skin was a lighter shade than her mother's brown, taking after her father. But what frightened the group of Romani was that Alexania was born with the Evil Eye set right in her skull. Her eyes were impossibly blue, frightening at times really. There were no mars of seperate colors, no flecks or smears of color. Only blue, and for this reason--they feared Alexania. The group of nomads feared that if Alexania's eyes looked upon them with anger, jealousy or haterid--that ill will would befall them. So, the leader of the group one day took Alexania deep into the city and told her to wait.

And there she did wait. She waited in the rain, in the heat, and all through the night until a police officer came and took her away. At the tender age of five years old, Alexania was placed into foster care. No birth records, no social security card--she was a nobody in the system, but she was quickly processed and placed into a home. The idea of a roof and bed that didn't move were foreign to her, and she was much like a wild animal. Alexania would shriek during bathtime, sleep in her dirtied clothes upon the floor, and often ate with her fingers. No matter how much the homes tried, it was difficult to train the young girl. She was wild, very wild.

One family did discover though, that Alexania seemed to enjoy dance. This was the longest she had been with a family. A nice middle aged couple were apparently getting ready to adopt the ten year old girl. Alexania had started to wind down--she no longer screamed during baths, she slept in a bed, and even learned how to use a fork and knife. She had begun to learn how to read, and was doing exceptionally well, given the circumstances. It was a radio station that the Foster Mom had turned on, that Alexania seemed to remember. Folk music sounding, her little legs carried her through the livingroom--and it became a joy for them to watch.

Unfortunately, things that were too good to be true often are. A year ticked by, then two--the adoption process was going achingly slow, and it was making Alexania concerned. The girl was feeling uneasy, especially wheneve the Foster Dad asked her to dance. Even when no one else was home. He asked her to dance during bathtime, which he decided still needed to be monitered. He asked her to dance in her nightgown before bed. It was uncomfortable, but Alexania never said no. It made her family happy, afterall. And she wanted a home.

But one night, when trying a new recital for her Foster Mother and Father--she knocked over a lamp. Which incited Mother's rage, and Alexania's bed was stood up against the wall, and she was forced to stand all night on a towel. In the middle of the night, her Foster Father had came into the room. It was a dark night, one that Alexania has now done a good job to erase from her memory. But once he had left the room, Alexania fled the window.

Homes were cages and children were pets. She ran as far as her legs could carry her, and for a long while she hid in the woods. Surely, she thought she would die. However, something deep rooted in her mind reminded her how to survive. And over the years, she learned how to twist the world in her own fingers. She didn't have to live as a slave to work, bills, and taxes--the world had everything waiting at its fingertips. As she hit her teenage years, she moved in closer to the city, and puberty was kind to her. It changed the awkward gangly child into a young woman with steady muscle, thick hair, and a voice as swedt as honey. She had long since left the name Alexania behind, becoming Aisha. Someone new, something new.

Eventually, she found her way to New York. Out of the places she had seen previously, New York seemed the richest. People were everywhere, in a rush, never seeming to pay much attention--therefore they didn't miss their belongings right away. It suited Aisha, and she eventually acquired a tent, some clothes and took to living in the woods of Central Park, dancing during the day to earn a bit of money. Occaisonally she stayed in hotels, or with people that...offered a bit of chump change for a night. It was all in order to survive.

That is...until he showed up. Him, with his handsome face, dark hair and dark eyes. He, who looked just as weathered as she did. The young man was named Max, and it was just one fateful day that he had decided to get in on her act--and yet it was an immediate bond. Almost like he had always been around, and Aisha quickly adjusted. With Max, came Alex. At first, she didn't quite like Alex. He was clean, washed, had a bed and food every night. Often, Aisha gave him a hard time--much to Max's dismay; and it even echoed into jealousy at times.

However, eventually Aisha accepted Alex, though now her picking on him is more of a sibling banter. Together they had found a sewer and made it a home. It was dark, and at times cold, and sometimes smelled kinda of bad--but they were making it into a home. And the best nights in the sewers were when they all sat around the fire, cooking stolen hot dogs.

the present...[/b][/size]
As before, all good things tend to not last. Or if they're too good to be true, they often are. One night, Max didn't come home. He didn't come home the next day, or the day after that. Occasionally, Aisha thought she saw her littlest brother--Prometheus--running about. However, the flash of white fur disappeared as quickly as she had seen it.

With the disappearance of Max, came the disappearance of Alex. The two were peas in a pod, and it only made sense if one were gone, the other would be as well. However, it made Aisha feel incredibly alone. The sewers were silent, and her face seemed to be baked into a constant frown. Whenever she smiled, it felt like her face was cracking--and she again felt abandoned. She tried to talk to Alex, to see him on occasion--but it was hard. Max had been the glue that held them all together, and seeing each other without all of the pieces together felt wrong and heartbreaking.

Aisha turned somewhat reckless, at this point. She had known a true family, pure and kind. No abuse, no hurt, nothing expected out of each other. She had her brothers and her family, and had felt perfectly safe for the first time in a long time. And then it had all been ripped away from her. She still lives in the sewers, however the fire is often nothing but embers and she shakes in the cold. When she can, she spends her evenings amongst other bodies in clubs, and sometimes taking doseages of drugs when the hurt was too much.

She is in absolutely no way a drug addict; she doesn't need it to get through each day. But each time she seems that flash of white fur, or sees something that reminds her of what she lost--she'd rather take something to have a good time, rather than curl up on her brothers' abandoned beds and cry herself to sleep.

Aisha is far too strong to give up on life, however she's beginning to live much more recklessly. She's tired, and it shows with the shadows beneath her eyes and the sluggish movements in her arms. She's falling apart at the seams, and recently--she's quite tired of it all, and quite tired of being alone.

other notes...[/b][/size] anything about your character that doesn’t fit anywhere else? [/blockquote]

...literature*

title... Hunchback of Notre Dame
backstory...
So basically, there's this chick who gets knocked up and she gets the absolutely most perfect baby girl ever. This kid is like the light of her life, only there are gypsies in the area, and the mom leaves for like two seconds and the pretty baby is kidnapped and left in its place is this grotesque disfigured thing.

This drives the mom into madness basically.

The pretty girl is Esmeralda, street urchin, dancer, and often does tricks with her goat-sister, Djali. She's not terribly bright, and all dis bitch wants is a piece of that Phoebus tail and a happy ending. Only Follo, being that dirty old man he is begins to make her life hell. He wants that totally hot French girl bod, but she's like, "GROSS DUDE. D-I-N-O-S-A-U-R." and so he frames her for murdering her beloved. And shit gets real, the Truands end up going to save her ass, but that don't last long cause dis dumb bitch gets caught again and she dies.

The fucking end. Shallow bitch dies.

...the roleplayer*

Do you really think anyone other than Olley would have the nerve to write Esmeralda?

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...writing*

writing sample/freestyle...

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LOL YOU GOT JOKES'N'SHIT[/blockquote]