VENAMORE, SATINE GENEVIEVE
May 2, 2011 7:27:14 GMT -5
Post by satine on May 2, 2011 7:27:14 GMT -5
satine genevieve venamore.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
/ i want to voice this out loud
full name.satine genevieve venamore.
satine: sar-TEEN - one of great beauty
genevieve: JEN eh VEEV - uncertain,
perhaps "woman of the people"
venamore: VEN-a-MORE
stage name. satine venamore.
nicknames. -
age dob. twenty-three [sixth of june, nineteen eighty seven]
gender. female
sexual orientation. bisexual?
career. film/tv actor
hometown. north carolina
/ it's therapeutic somehow
height. five foot seven
eyes. blue
hair. dark brown, almost black
build. slim, boardering curvy
distinguishing features. the darkness of her hair against her ivory complexion
play-by. hilary rhoda
/ so i'm moving to new york
loves. the beach at night, rock concerts, red lipstick, johnny depp, animals, drawing, cigarettes, jane austen, witty people, broadway, leather, the television show "bones", alcohol, satin, yogo, hearing people laugh.
hates. people who can't make up their mind, bad phone reception, silver cars, the word "meh", when drivers do under the speed limit, feet, "pretty boys", maths, science.
quirks.
"i need the tv volume to end in either five or zero."
"when i sleep the window closest to me must always be open so the stars can be seen."
"the tv is always on -silence is just too loud. the only time i turn it off is to sleep."
"the only place i can read or write is the library, bar or cafe."
aspirations.
"i want to make my brother proud. to show him he can do anything. i also need to make some money, to get him the best care he can get and allow my mother to have a life again."
"i wish to live for myself and no one else."
"i feel the need to use any possible success i recieve and use it to further research into diseases and sickness. i'm no angel. but i've been hurt by disease and dispair. i wouldn't wish it upon anyone, which is why i want to help aid further research."
secrets. "murder. if anyone found out i'd be beyond ruined."
personality evaluated.
g u i l t y majority of satine’s actions are fuelled by the tremendous guilt she feels about her brother and what happened with chloe henderson.
l o y a l loyalty runs strong in the venamore family. satine is the type of person who will always have your back when you need it most. shes the type of person to care for the drunken girl just because she'd been the that position and would have liked the same.
i m p a t i e n t just like her father, she has little patience. the only time she has ever demonstrated patience is with her little brother and the sick. satine honestly does have a soft spot for the sick and desperately wants to help them.
t r u s t w o r t h y satine isn't in the industry for the fame or fans. shes purely interested in the money to help her family and with this she isn't one to sell you out to the press. if satine promises to keep your secret, she wouldn't go back on her word.
s u b s t a n c e - a b u s e r while satine might want to help the sick, it doesn't stop her from slowly killing herself. alcohol, cigarettes, a few drugs here and there. the long term effects don't bother her in the slightest. a girl with a problem, but she also believes she is a girl who doesn't deserve to live a happy, carefree life. she is reckless with herself but never with others.
q u i e t unlike a lot of the hollywood faces, satine doesn't really care about the fame. she loves to act. to be another person. to walk in anothers shoes. and that in where her love ends. while she sees no harm in supporting fans, she doesn't find the whole 'fanclub', paparazzi, everyone knowing your name at all appealing. satine will never be the girl to come up to you and chat. she is independent and doesn't feel the need to have someone around her all the time. if you want to meet her/talk to her, you make the effort. it wouldn't even matter if you were johnny depp and sitting across the bar. she would be far too timid to approach -if she were sober.
s t y l i s h despite the fact that satine isn't a very materialistic person, she loves to dress up and look respectable. satine has a natural flare for fashion and reads vogue like its the bible. her clothing is probably her way of self-expression, this is why she spends so long deciding what to wear. however, like everyone, she has those days when she really doesn't care.
f e i s t y satine might be quiet but don't go on thinking shes a pushover. if your rude to you or her friends, shes the girl to put you in your place. shes always up for an agrument and never backs down from a fight. with a quick tongue and sharp mind, you really don't want to be on her bad side. satine doesn't give in easily to boys and will never be the 'notch on the bedpost' kind of girl. if anything, the boy will be on her bedpost. she isn't a slut, but she isn't fridget either. she prefers to drive boys insane, rather than to give in to there every wish. the 'charming, handsome, gets everything he ever wanted' males aren't satine's type as she can't stand pretty boys. she likes her boys to be well, boys. fair enough?
/ i've got issues with my sleep
father. markus desmond venamore , fifty six , builder
mother. caroline jasmine venamore , fifty four , caretaker (milo)
siblings. milo william venamore , sixteen , brain damaged
pets. lena, family dog
other family. cousin: addison may venamore, nineteen, model
history evaluated.
I was drunk.
I wasn't 100% sure how it happened, but I suspected it had occurred around the time my friend had bet me I couldn't take down eight vodka shots faster than he could. He promised me he'd take my weekend shift at work if I won, and I'd do his stock replacement duty at work for a week if he won. A bet I couldn't refuse. So eight shots later here I was. Dizzy, loose tongued and about to fall over. And in a true drunken girl style, I slowly walked over and fell into the closest empty sofa. My head fell back into the sofa and I wondered why I did this to myself. Was it to stop the chaos that controlled my mind? The constant struggle of keeping calm. I knew one day it would kill me. If I lost my temper all hell would break loose. I'd experienced it before. I never wanted to again.
My legs felt numb. My eyes felt heavy. I loved the feeling of intoxication. It felt like floating. Like heaven. Like there was a force field around me, stopping all signs of irritation and annoyance. When I was drunk, I was at my safest. That was the catch. And that’s why I did it to myself. I wasn't some stupid party girl. I may have been reckless, but not with other people. I didn't care what I did to my body. But I couldn't forgive myself for what I did to others. Like the last day of 2009, I watched as Chloe Henderson danced around the pool. I mean, I couldn't stand the girl. But didn't know her well enough to hate her. I was younger, and more naïve then. But I was to blame for her death. It was at some university student’s party. And Chloe Henderson was one girl who didn't know when to stop. She argued with people till they were ready to slap her. And with most people that was fine. But it wasn't okay with me. I watched as her pretty blonde head continued to rave on and on, and nothing she said I cared about. I didn't care what Chloe Henderson thought my of hair, or my interests. I didn't even flinch when she started talking shit about my friend. But one thing she said hit me hard. It pulled on that tightly wound heart string and tugged till it snapped. I couldn't understand why the fuck someone would use a boy with a disease as a way of 'offending' someone. That wasn't funny, that was pain. Milo Venamore was my brother. He was also a sixteen year old boy with brain damage. Milo had been only five. I was nine. We we're both at the doctors to get our injections. Injections that were meant to keep us from harm. From disease and despair. Milo sat across from me. Needles had always scared him. So I always got my injections first. To be a role model and show him it was okay. I watched as finally he nodded and he looked into my eyes. I heard him gasp as the needle pierced his alabaster skin. I watched his blue eyes fill with tears. Blue eyes that mirrored my own. I smiled at Milo, told him it was okay. But it wasn't okay. Milo had a allegoric reaction to the injection. The reaction was in his blood stream. It entered his brain. His heart. And I remember his face. The moment he realised something wasn't normal. The moment I realised this wasn't just a scared boy hiding from the needle. I saw his expression. And he saw mine. That's the last time I saw my brother. Now, Milo was just a slowly moving vegetable. A shell with no core. My weakness.
Chloe Henderson had no right. But I defiantly didn't have the right to play god. I only saw rage. She saw it too. It was written all over my face. My eyes blazed and my mouth was tight. People around us didn't understand. They didn't see. But she did. And I couldn't control it. I pushed her. I knew there was the pool behind her. I thought she’d fall, but I thought she’d live. Chloe screamed. She yelled and cried. And finally she fell in the pool, hitting her head against the cement. Chloe Henderson was unconscious before she hit the bottom of the pool. But that didn’t matter, she was dead from the impact of the concrete. Scarlet red filled the usually crystal clear pool. And I watched helpless to my own thoughts as Chloe sunk to the bottom. Unsure of what to do. I took off. I hated myself. I disgusted myself. I felt like I couldn’t control myself.
That day still haunted me. It impacted my actions and the person I was. I was different now. Different from that last terrorising day of 2009. Even my drunken mind hated myself for it. That was the kind of guilt that drove people to suicide. I no longer cared about myself. I was nothing. I cared about Milo. Yet, I had come to the conclusion that he wasn't my brother. My brother was a funny, annoying, soccer playing five year old. And sometimes I still felt like that clueless nine year old girl. I still loved him. But in a different way.
But I didn't understand love. Not fully. I understood the love between a mother and her son. I had seen it. Everyday my mother cared for her son. A love that would last till the end of the world and even beyond. The love I couldn't understand was that between a girl and a boy. I hadn't experienced the 'sensation' of having a boyfriend. I just liked having boys. Love wasn't for me. Honestly. I don't think I even deserve it. I saw love in alcohol, cigarettes and a little pot here and there. But they didn't love me. They liked to harm me. Fill my lungs with cancer. Taint my liver with poison. But, they filled my head with desire. Like I said. I love the feeling of intoxication.
My mother wasn’t worried about my drinking. She was far too wrapped up with my brothers issues. Then again, when I was sober, so was I. He was our whole world. But at the same time it killed us. To watch his mouth move but to not hear any words. To see his eyes and remember the boy he used to be. It was heartbreaking. That is why I didn’t want love. I didn’t deserve it anyway. Love was for people with hearts. My love was filled to the brim with guilt. Murder was a guilt no one could get over. No one ever knew what happened that 2009 night. At least I didn’t think so.
As my blue eyes danced around the scene. I wondered how I actually got here. Hollywood. I long lost dream. I raised my hand in front of my eyes. A smile graced my lips. I was so gone. Sometimes I forgot why I was here. Not at this party. But in Hollywood. So far away from sweet old North Carolina. Then I remembered. It was what I’d always wanted. As a little girl all I ever dreamed about was Broadway. My father had always told me I was born for it. My mother told me Hollywood was waiting for me. My plans were for Broadway. But Broadway wasn’t going to pay the bills anymore. That naive childhood dream had to be adjusted. Because I had medical bills among other things to pay for. You could say Milo Venamore was an expensive kid to have around. But I needed to dream big. Hollywood big. Then everything would be okay. My father would be able to retire. My brother would have the best care North Carolina had ever seen and my mother wouldn’t be the one killing herself to aid him.
I wasn’t sure if Hollywood was meant for me. But I needed it. So it was going to need me.
/ christmas came early for me
alias. kayla
years of rp experience. three?
other characters. none
how did you find us. searching around
roleplay sample.
Flaws? Truthfully, Drew Hawking could never understand them. In his mind if you had a flaw you fixed it. Just like his cousin fixed his skin problem with a dozen pills a day. Flaw fixed. Or like when his uncle had that whopper of a mole on his cheek. And after having it removed, flaw fixed. Loving someone for their flaws? Drew defiantly couldn’t wrap his rather large head around. Although he was lucky and flaw free. Perfect teeth. Complexion. Hair. Skin. Flawless. So if the blonde heartthrob could be all this, why couldn’t others aspire to be? A good Italian hairdresser could fix any hair issue. A money-sucking high paid dermatologist to fix those skin imperfections. A high class dentist to whiten and straighten the teeth. In the world of Drew Hawking, every flaw was fixable.
”Babe, you know I’m a free spirit.” He winked with a small grin on his well-defined features. The tone of her voice had him curious. “Ah well, we all know you like your...blondes.”
Push her and push her. One day she might break.
Now Drew knew what he was saying. Referring not just to his own sun kissed blonde waves, but also to the asshole he had seen his girlfriend dancing around with. Fucking gay prick. If Audrina wanted to get bitchy, he would get teasingly cruel. He loved knowing something she didn’t. Something about her. A huge ‘Screw You’ in big red bold letters. It’s not that the eighteen year old didn’t love his girlfriend. Because he did. He just didn’t love her in that, crazy in love, would die for, kind of love. Audrina Rutherford was beautiful, smart, talented and funny. Yet, whatever Drew did he couldn’t feel that desperately wonderful love. The kind of love that changes a man. He couldn’t feel anything with Audrina. Never had. No spark. Nothing. Although, the blonde had to admit when he was young and very naive, Audrina was a attractive girl and he was a male just passing through puberty. Those characteristic’s add up. But Drew wasn’t a child anymore. Barely a teenager. And some part of the eighteen year old didn’t want to spend his whole life with snuffy Audrina Rutherford.
”Darl, your house is like a maze. I’ll say it again. White on white with white this and shit. Honestly, do you live in a mental hospital? It could have fooled me.” Her stare was piercing and beautiful, and knowing -unknown to Drew. The blonde was simply far too arrogant to considered that his beauty of a girlfriend knew anything of Annaleigh Linus and well, the others. Their names? God knows. As Audrina’s brown eyes continued to test him, she suddenly spoke. Her tone was... Numb like. New. A challenge hidden between the tranquil laced words. “Oh yeah, and whats that?” He challenged back, his voice was low and husky. He took step closer with his long legs. Suddenly face to face with a girl he honestly tried to often to avoid. His father loved Audrina Rutherford more than his own son did.
The handsome male snorted as she told him the cookies were for her ‘father and his work associates.’ Yeah right bitch. ”Of course, I understand. One cookie would surely end the world.” Drew nodded in all seriousness. Yet anyone who knew Drew Hawking’s would know he was pissed. A secret spiteful sarcasm hidden for the best of times.
Quit? What does quit mean? To quit. To end. To leave. He blinked twice. No, you didn’t quit. He said calmly, his penetrating brown eyes burning into his girlfriend’s soul. His girlfriend. Audrina Rutherford. The quitter. He continued his stare. Yet she wasn’t breaking down. She wasn’t apologizing. She wasn’t even guilty. Drew inhaled, closed his brown eyes and thought calm thoughts. He counted to ten and opened his eyes. “I will see you tomorrow at practise. Where I will see you cheering, while I play football. My girlfriend will be there, supporting me and my team.” Drew’s voice was deadly calm. The calm before the storm they say. He turned around to leave, stepping up the three steps that led to the front door. here.
