REGIUS, Mercy Eve

[MERCY REGIUS]

...mercy eve regius*
*i'll be fairest in the land*

[/size]

...basics*

name Mercy Eve Regius
nickname That depends on Leon
age 26
gender Female
grade N/A
hometown New York City
sexuality Heterosexual
personification The Evil Queen of Snow White
status Awake
face claim Neon Lynxie

...appearance*

hair color Deep brown, often with soft curls that hang past her shoulders.
eye color Dark blue. Mercy paints her eyes with eyeliner and -shadow in a way that mimics a cat eyes, but more contemporary.
build Slight, or petite. Typically girly but very controlled, Mercy has taken ballet and gymnastics for most of her life. That sort of discipline stuck with her and she continues to practice, though she has no intentions of dancing professionally. With her career as a model, Mercy must keep in good health and excellent shape - but she is careful to not build her muscles too much, instead keeping her frame lean and spritely.
height 5'8"
clothing style Incredibly girly and always put-together. She has makeup down to a science, her perfumes arranged by subtlety of scent, and a morning routine that any obsessive compulsive would envy. She likes to wear soft pinks and bold purples, spike heels, and short skirts. Most clothing she owns has some sort of lace, frill, pleat, or other cute accent to it, and Mercy would be loathe to leave the house with even a hair out of place. She is very strict about her appearance and will stop at nothing until her presence positively glows. Her status as a model has her purchasing designer clothes on a fairly regular basis, which she wears out only as often as couture fashion will allow.
distinctive traits Mercy is in the habit of intentionally warding the sun away from darkening her skin, as she prefers the look of a pale ivory shimmer to a sun-kissed glow. To this end she may carry parasols or wear large-brimmed hats to keep the sun off her shoulders, and she is the world's biggest advocate for the daily use of sunscreen (the unscented, moisturizing kind, of course). Mercy is incredibly prepared for any sort of weather- or beauty-centered emergency, and to that end she keeps her purses stocked with touch up makeup, tissues, bandaids, small umbrellas, combs, and things of this nature. Mercy takes pride in her appearance and is vain to the point of being totally oblivious to her life-consuming obsession.

...personal*

personality Organized - Mercy is a person of lists, schedules, and routines that she is loathe to deviate from. Each month, week, day is planned out, and she has her routines so down pat she could do them in her sleep. But she doesn't find her life monotonous--sometimes she feels the only comfort she can find is through her schedule.
Driven/Obsessive - Mercy is a very motivated individual who has learned to stop at nothing to achieve her ends. She was given every opportunity as a child and very little could stop her (at least monetarily, and that opens a lot of doors). She has an addictive personality, with her routines and passions becoming more like obsessions, over everything from beauty, to success, to Leon.
Jealous/Possessive - As a result from her addictive personality (and probably from being a spoiled only child), Mercy is extremely possessive of what is hers, even if that "possession" is a person. She becomes jealous very easily, often envying in others what she believes she lacks. Occasionally, the methods she uses to soothe her jealously can range in anywhere from downright bitch to violent.
Greedy - Not for material things, despite her affluent upbringing. Rather, Mercy is greedy for success, getting her way, and being around people who absolutely adore her.
past Mercy was born the only child to Richard and Marcia Regius, two very influential people in the upper echelons of Connecticut Society, and New York Business. Richard, CEO of his nation-wide banking firm, practically made his fortune over night. Marcia, a native of West Hartford's elite circles, quickly latched on to the rising businessman. They married, and their incomes and trustfunds and other privileged money combined to allow them to climb the social ladder until there was no where else to go. They threw galas and fundraisers and old-time society balls to maintain their status as the generous affluent, and eager to continue to improve their image, decided having a child would boost their likability significantly. Plus, it just so happened that Richard's rival in banking, Mr. Stuart Lancaster, recently fathered a son. If everything went smoothly, the Regiuses and Lancasters might yet form some kind of business alliance.

And of course, things did in fact go smoothly. Marcia gave birth to a precious baby girl, all pink and small and curly brown hair and wide blue eyes. Perhaps strategically, they named her Mercy--but they would think about future business ventures later. For now, they had a daughter to raise to be gentle and sheltered and accomplished; Mercy was dressed in nothing but soft pinks and whites, rarely fed sweets, and from the moment she could walk she was taking ballet and toddler gymnastics. Marcia made sure Mercy made friends with only the best families in Greenwich, and was sent to private preschools and elementary schools.

As Mercy got worked her way through grammar school, Marcia and Richard made sure she maintained a strict schedule of school work and extracurriculars. Mercy was never wanting for friends or fun as she was a pleasant enough child who enjoyed routine, and her parent's adherence to a schedule almost soothed her. Every morning she would wake up, get dressed in the clothes her mother helped her pick out the night before, eat a healthy breakfast, gather her school things, and got to school. Afterwards, she'd come home, have a snack and do her work, and then by 4:30 is was ballet on Mondays and Wednesdays, Gymnastics on Tuesdays and Fridays, and Thursdays were reserved for whatever sort of activity she wanted to do. Mostly, at first, Mercy chose to spend time with her mother or father when he was available, but her interests, and schedule, changed as she grew older.

Pretty soon Mercy was in middle school, all uniforms and polished shoes and hair pulled into straight braids. She was maturing into a very pretty young woman, and with her confidence and ego nearly constantly boosted by her home environment, she knew it, too. Her braids became carefully crafted curls, she began to wear makeup, and she began to take her appearance very seriously. To this end, Mercy practiced her ballet daily for hours, aching to perfect each stance, each point of her toe. She felt the need to maintain every facet of her life--her looks, her grades, her friends. What distracted other girls her age was carefully monitored by Mercy, trained out of habit to do so for years. Her friends were busy with boys; Mercy had to first decide if she could work a boyfriend into her schedule, and was always delighted when she found she could. And come high school, Mercy had no short list of boys to choose from. She was, frankly, gorgeous, and Mercy worked hard to show that off. It also didn't hurt that her parents were incredibly wealthy. That opened a lot of doors for Mercy.

Two such opportunities came to Mercy her junior year of high school, and both had her re-evaluating her life thus far. The first came about in June, the summer before she was to start her senior year. Her parents were holding some seasonal event or other, but this one different in that Mercy was to be formally introduced into society (without having to actually call it a coming out ball or some other nonsense). She was sixteen at the time, and she generally found herself enjoying the atmosphere, even if the majority of the company were other CEOs, employees, and business relations of her father. The only other people around her age were the children of the employees also attending, one of which her parents were very keen on her meeting.

Charles Lancaster, the aforementioned son of Stuart Lancaster, was introduced in no subtle manner to Mercy, her parents' intentions abundantly clear. Everyone, it seemed, was working on bringing these two together for an eventual marriage/business merger combination, that although expected by Mercy, was not entirely welcome. She would have thought she'd have been able to complete high school before her parents were shoving husbands down her throat, but she didn't resist. Charles was, initially, a good enough guy, if prone to wild partying and that whole live-fast-die-young mentality that didn't really sit well with Mercy. Not at first, though under Charles' influence and her parents giving her more and more freedom, Mercy was starting to see things his way.

Her junior year and his senior, Mercy took a less-structured approach to her life. Instead of diligently practicing her dancing, she and Charles might end up in one of his friends' basements, drinking their way til morning's first light. Mercy's grades took a dive, she lost a lot of friends, and a lot of self confidence bit the dust. Mercy steadily became more and more insecure as she continued to date Charles, and she had a lot of confidence, ego, and vanity to begin with. But the longer she stayed with Charles, the less concerned she was about looking good for her own sake, and the more concerned she became about looking good for others, for Charles. Soon she worried about every drop of makeup she applied (too heavy? Not the right shade? Was some other girl wearing this yesterday?), every dress she tried on (I know I saw someone else with this same dress), and whether or not she was the prettiest girl in school. This last thought dug its way into her mind obsessively and rooted there, and was soon not one focus of her life, but the only focus.

Mercy grew incredibly bitchy that year. Instead of the friendly, smart girl she used to be, Mercy's smile was replaced with a sneer as she looked down at girls less fortunate than or pretty as her. She took to assuring her spot as best-looking-girl-in-school by any means necessary, even if it mean bullying the competition: sabotaging a girl's outfit by "accidentally" spilling her lunch on it, spreading nasty rumors about supposed sluts and cheaters on the internet. Mercy had to be the best, perfect. She was too scared of losing Charles - a boy she never even wanted in the first place - as his wandering eye tended to linger on other girl's bodies. His apathy toward her only fueled her desire to be perfect, and she channeled her energy into controlling everything about her own life, and the lives of those around her.

Her junior year was winding down and Mercy had clawed her way to the top of beauty ladder with manicured nails. Apparently her efforts had paid off, as at a college fair one day, a representative of a teen modelling agency approached her with the request that she come to one of their open auditions. The new taste Mercy had acquired for competition was again sparked, and she accepted. She attended the audition and was eventually placed in a the modelling agency's repertoire. Mostly Mercy relied on her background as a dancer for photoshoots, but the idea of modelling as a career took hold in Mercy. She felt like she had a purpose again, one into which she could channel the energy she felt was wasted on the ugly girls of high school.

Charles' graduation loomed on the horizon, though to be honest, it didn't really effect Mercy. She continued to see him and would continue to see him, she was assured, until they were married. And then she'd see him every day of her life. She wasn't proud of the way Charles made her feel about herself, but at least, now, she had something to work towards. Mercy continued to model, much to Charles' delight (he took satisfaction in bragging about it). She managed to stabilize her grades but was no longer really looking at colleges knowing that Charles would inherit his father's business, they'd make stupid amounts of money, and even without him Mercy would never have to want for material wealth in her life due to her substantial trust fund. But as she finished her senior year, Mercy couldn't help but feel more and more trapped by the way her life was going. Not a pleasant feeling.

So came her own graduation night. Charles had told her he had hint hint, big plans, hint hint, for them that night, but Mercy was less than enthusiastic about the prospect. Instead, she gave him the excuse that Greenwich High School and schools from the surrounding area were pooling together for a SafeGrad night, chaperoned by parental committees to ensure kids didn't go out drinking, driving, generally carousing to the detriment of themselves and others. The fact that this option sounded more appealing than a night with Charles should have been Mercy's first clue.

After the graduation ceremony and a quick kiss on the cheek from Charles, Mercy was on her way with the other SafeGrad kids to a mystery location, there to meet up with kids from other schools. Mercy had no intention of keeping her graduation entirely safe, though, as she was 18, feeling reckless, and dreading the force with which the reality of future was crushing her. To that end, Mercy was seeking enjoyment by any means necessary, and that, apparently, meant sleeping with a boy named Leon.

Leon was from New London High School, a public school decidedly less prestigious than Mercy's private one. The students at that school, as far as she could tell, were all the party-hard types and she at first joined with them. That was, after all, her goal. But she kept noticing Leon whenever he would walk past--he stuck out because he wasn't just like all the others from his school. Soon Mercy was desperate to catch his eye, maybe find out exactly how unlike his classmates he was.

Not different enough not to sleep with her, apparently. But that was what Mercy wanted, and she felt good that she had gotten her way. At that point, she forgot about the boy with the peculiar name, went back to Charles, continued to advance in her modelling, and that was that.

Except it wasn't. No matter how hard she tried with Charles, putting effort into their relationship, making herself pretty for him--she just wasn't into it. And she couldn't, for whatever reason, forget Leon's name. She took to hanging around downtown New London when she could, hoping to see him again. And she did, occasionally, find him, which led to more hooking up, which led to even more seeking him out. It eventually got to a point where Mercy was calling and talking to and hooking up with Leon more than she was with Charles. But Mercy was primarily a person of lists and schedules, and balancing two relationships was not a challenge she was up for. So, naturally, Mercy split up with Charles because at this point, why bother? Charles hardly looked at her any more anyway, and there were other ways to make their parents' companies merge. There wasn't a point. And Mercy was finding a point in Leon.

The two began dating just as Leon was off to basic training. She was infinitely proud of Leon, a feeling that related to someone other than herself that she experienced for the first time in too long a time. It felt good to have someone to look after, and to look after her, even if Leon came back from BT and SERE entirely able to function without the rest of the world, let alone her. He still stayed with her, and by choice, no less--and that was something she hadn't yet experienced. Not with her high school boyfriends, not with Charles, not anyone. Mercy had it bad for Leon, and it was a love that just wouldn't quit. Not when he had to move his family someplace safer and more manageable, not when he was off to basic training, and not when she wouldn't see him for months at a time. She worried about him and fussed over him constantly, something that, though her parents viewed as a decided step backwards, Mercy enjoyed.

Her parents didn't find much to praise about Leon--he was a mechanic from New London who turned to a military career. Even though that was of course admirable, her parents were of a different mind, and could only see that his position in life was beneath Mercy's. They were still upset over Mercy's having broken up with Charles with no plans on returning to him, and they made sure Leon knew this (though their demeanor was sickeningly sweet towards him). But her parents were able to tolerate him in that he was often away, and they hoped this would give Mercy time to explore her options, so to speak. But Mercy was nothing doing--when her career was on the upswing and she saw fit to move to New York, Mercy asked Leon to come with her. And he did.

In his absence, Mercy mostly focused on her career. But the times he was away felt like they occurred more often, with less time on leave when she could see him. Mercy took to stressing over him more and more, finding him the topic of her thoughts more often then not. She knew his job was impossibly dangerous and he took it very seriously. But then something horrible happened that changed his life forever.

Mercy got a phone call in the middle of the night, one she hoped she would never get, and really, assumed she wouldn't because in her mind, Leon was invincible. All they told her was that Leon had taken a blow to the head nearly a week ago, and though he survived, he was not at the time fit for travel. Recently he had been moved to a hospital in New York, and nearly before she hung up the phone Mercy was out the door. His mother and stepfather were already there, and after a small battle with the hospital attendants, and Mercy's insistence that she was one of Leon's emergency contacts, she was finally able to see him.

But he couldn't see her.

The doctors explained the medical circumstances surrounding his condition, and Mercy very numbly took it in. Leon was blind now, with no chance of recovering his eyesight. That was it for him--he wouldn't be able to continue his military service, and it would take him a while to adjust to his blindness. What was odd, they said, was that Leon refused to answer any questions—barely even speak—until she had gotten there. They chalked it up to traumatic circumstances and looked at it as a possibility of PTSD. There was, after all, so much he had gone through, and so much for him to learn to be able to function normally again, but Mercy suspected that without his being able to maintain the sort of discipline and accomplishment SERE instilled him, he wouldn't ever be completely back to normal. He would change. But he would be with her, and that's all that mattered.

Mercy felt horrible for thinking it that night--how she was relieved that he wouldn't be risking his life anymore, even if it cost him his eyesight. He would have to depend on her and she was greedy for it, and that made her feel like a monster. When his mother and step father told her they appreciated that she was there for him, Mercy felt every word like a punch in the gut, but she only smiled and looked on at Leon, swallowing back her own emotional turbulence. His refusal to answer any questions worried her, and it wasn't until they were alone that she finally dared. "…How are you feeling?" She had asked tentatively, and then could see why Leon had refused to talk. He looked toward her, his eyes off in a thousand yard stare, his voice somehow hollow and automatic as he answered her without hiding anything. The absolute truth. It scared her, and she didn't know what to make of it. All she wanted right now was him home—she would worry about this later. One thing at a time.

She couldn't deny that adjusting to Leon's blindness was difficult, and she could only imagine what it must have been like for him. They fought more often, usually out of frustration, and Mercy found herself growing wary of anyone who got too close, emotionally or physically. Perhaps worst of all, though Mercy certainly didn't see it, with Leon around more often, she grew jealous of any female that came within spitting distance of him. She wanted to be the only one that could help him. Just her. Horrible as that sounds, Mercy now had an overwhelming need to... well, I guess the word would be possess him. He had to be hers and hers alone. Especially now that had the peculiar habit of answering any and all questions posed to him in that same manner as he did back in the hospital—Mercy felt she had to protect him from others who might exploit his… peculiarity.
present Mercy and Leon have mostly settled into a livable routine, though she doesn't doubt he more often than not finds her attention smothering. She can't help it—it's like there's something alive in her that motivates her possession and jealousy, obsessed as she is with the idea that she has to be the best, they have to be the best, even now after all these years. Maybe it's the competitiveness of her personality, boosted by the nature of career, or maybe it's that her competitiveness now has an outlet in Leon, in the big city, with all types of people potentially moving in on her position. It's like her entirety is made out of envy, vanity, sometimes violent jealousy, and other vapid, empty feelings and she can't figure out how to get her life back on track. She just wants things to be like they were before, just her and Leon.

But things can't go back to the way they were before. Leon's injury hadn't only effected his eyesight—he continues to answer any question asked of him with an honesty that Mercy feels... well, it can't very well be his own. His knowledge is omniscient, him knowing things that Mercy has no idea he could possibly know. And it isn't just little things, like an absent question like "Where did I leave my phone?", Leon knows things he can't know. Things that he would need his sight to know. Frankly this knowledge frightens Mercy, and she's constantly having to watch herself around him. She doesn't always know how to act around him, and that depresses her.

She won't leave him, though. She can't. Despite their growing list of difficulties, Mercy is determined to see the other side of this. She couldn't stand being away from him—not now.
family
Richard Walker Regius, 63. CEO
Marcia Anne Regius, 58. Homemaker and Socialite
likes Routine
Keeping up appearances
Being in control
Being the best (by any means)
Being in the public eye
Success
dislikes Too much change
Sloppy/dirty clothes
Wasted opportunity
Feeling jealous
Feeling overwhelmed
Failure
Letting herself/her parents/Leon down
other notes The feelings of The Queen are awake in her, though Mercy doesn't exactly realize the source of the feelings (that is, she is unaware of The Queen, but the spirit itself is awake).

...literature*

book title Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
backstory Going completely off the Disney movie here, the Evil Queen Grimhilde is jealous of the beauty of her scullery maid, Snow White. She desires Snow White's death so that the Queen might be the fairest in the land, and when she finds she cannot delegate the task successfully to another, she must take Snow White's murder into her own hands.

The Queen is able to use magic to brew a potion that turns her appearance into the opposite of what she really is--an old hag bent over with age, her voice creaking, her hands shaking. The Queen poisons a basket of apples with the intention to offer one to Snow White, effectively killing her. Of course things go wrong and Snow White only enters a deep sleep, where she is awoken by true love's kiss. The Queen gets hit by the karma train and dies.

But key to the Queen's knowledge of Snow White's beauty is her slave, the Magic Mirror. Without the Mirror, she wouldn't be powerless, but ignorant--and one wonders, would have been better off without it, or would she have become something much, much worse?

...roleplayer*

name Rin
age 20
gender Female
rp experience 10 years
how you found ouac Stark invited me!
rp sample Simple today. Relaxed. George for once in what felt like too long a while had nothing on his plate - nothing immediate, pressing. After a busy summer and hectic settling back in, George finally felt like he had room to breathe. Take a moment to get a way from the day tripping head spin of it all and fill his lungs with thick city air. Peace and quiet and a chance at solitude, a chance to be away from his bandmates, clear his head, and just -- oh sod it, like he was going to relax.

He found himself, before long, tramping his way towards the Kenwood door, guitar slung over his shoulder in a manner to which he was nearly no longer accustomed -- when was the last time he had to really carry his own instrument? He'd admit it was nice to have his guitar about his person again, evident in the slight quirk of one of the corners of his mouth, a sort of smile. "Hmph," he laughed to himself, smacking the body of the guitar with the flat of his hand just to hear the strings reverberate. Oh, naturally. Out of tune.

George resolved to tune the thing inside, though, as he stuck out his index knuckle to rap four times on the door. "John, you 'ome?" he sort of shouted, peering unabashedly into the windows for signs of movement. When there were none immediately, George took this as his rightful cue to go in anyway. "I'm comin' in," he announced halfway over the thresh hold, added "Still comin' in," as he wiped his feet on the inside mat, and, closing the door behind him, finished with "In."

Still nothing. Well, that was fine, too. As he'd ruminated before, it wasn't as if he had a million things to do today, though as he kicked off his shoes at the door and made a beeline for the tea kettle, he's hazard a guess that before long he'd miss the rush and excitement, the girls screaming so loud it didn't matter what they played. The gentle thud of his guitar against the wall as he propped it up only reminded him of how decidedly not hectic the last few weeks have been. George paused, looking at how small his guitar looked, leaning crookedly as it was against the wall, sad and out of tune. He reached for it slowly, fingers stretching towards the bridge...

"I'm makin' tea," he called abruptly, to anyone who might be listening. The moment had passed when his stomach rumbled, bringing him back to real life. "Fuck all, John," he muttered to himself as he peeked and peered into cupboards, looking for a hidden biscuit or two. "Prob'ly forgot I said I'd pop in today," George continued to mutter to himself, complicated now, however, by the shortbread in his mouth (found behind the coffee tin). Ah well. It was only midday and John'd be round eventually to mischiefize the brain-pressuring, mind-numbing, blasted peace. George may very well be a more subdued man himself, but that didn't mean he didn't crave the antics of the others. Especially since Pattie was away -- her muse possessed her, she'd said, and she'd be out of town for the weekend taking photographs and no she wouldn't be back any earlier and no he couldn't come with her.

His mind continued to drift down this path as he filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, biscuit caught between his teeth, bare toes tapping to the beat of "I Need You," head shaking to get the fringe out of his eyes. He set the kettle on the burner and fished out a teabag from the array of blends Cynthia kept in the cupboard by the spoons. Incredibly handy, that. George turned his back then to lean against the counter top, hands on either side of him bracing the ledge, ankles crossed as he waited for the kettle and hummed the tune stuck in his head. "You don't realize how much I need you... Love you all the time and never leave you... Please come on back to me, I'm lonely as can be. I need- JOHN," he replaced with John's name, singing the syllable loudly instead humming. Though he was pretty sure at this point the house was empty.

[Deleted]

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