Post by florence ruby leclaire on Jul 17, 2010 13:06:40 GMT -7
FLORENCERUBYLECLAIRE
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"as long as i keep thinking, i’m alive."[/color][/size][/center]
nicknames : flo
age : eighteen
birthday : march 17
orientation : straight
group : level 1
illness : selective mutism, clinical psychosis
canon or original? : original[/font][/size][/ul][/ul]
weight : 134
body : flo is tall and slender, almost ghostly in the way that she floats around. she has a small amount of muscle in her arms and her abs, but not much.
eyes : large, round blue eyes.
hair : dark brown, about shoulder-length and wavy. has a lot of body.
distinguishing features : a large freckle on the back of her left shoulder, a small scar in the shape of a line on her right knee.
fashion sense : nothing specific, but can be seen as indie-hipster when she’s in her everyday clothes or classic when she’s in fancy dress.
play-by : zooey deschanel[/size][/font][/ul][/ul]
flowers, floaty dresses, blush, dreams, romance movies, reading, grapes, jarritos mandarin, traveling, flying in planes, smiling, moleskine notebooks.
dislikes :
bugs, lipgloss, blood, screaming, scary movies, being alone, the sound of nothing, books that make her cry (but she also loves them), dreamworks movies, unflavored dental floss.
strengths :
reading, imagining things, making people happy, optimistic, somewhat carefree
weaknesses :
bottles up her feelings, pretends that little things make her upset so she won’t have to talk about the big things, anything involving math or science, insomniac, spends most of her time reading rather than socializing.
habits :
taps her fingers, keeps stones with her for worrying, cleans her room every time she’s bored, keeps papers from years ago, grinds her teeth when she’s nervous, always keeps smiling, keeps a banana on her just in case of a low potassium emergency.
fears :
spiders, being alone, dying from suffocation, her hallucinations, her psychosis preventing her from being able to read, social situations, having a panic attack.
secrets :
when she was four, she took her sister’s barbie doll and cut her hair. ruth never found out about it, but it still eats at flo whenever she’s feeling guilty.
she really wants to be helped and saved; not being able to talk to people is the worst.
although she acts happy, she usually cries herself to sleep, when she can sleep.
she’s scared of everyone who isn’t her mothers or her sister
personality :
flo is a strange one. around her family, she's as loud and ridiculous and silly as can be, but once she's in a large social situation or around someone she doesn't know, she clams up. even talking around her family with someone she doesn't know is difficult. her throat closes up and she can't breathe and the walls close in and the floor starts bulging and before she knows it she's in the middle of a panic attack. were someone to get to know flo past her crippling shyness, though, they'd see that she's really a very bright and happy girl. she loves playing in flowers and making flower crowns and wearing dresses. she's very girly. she loves traveling, but hates that she can't speak to anyone. she's always smiling because she always feels like she should act happy. flo hates to make other people care about her, because she doesn't really think she's important enough to take up their time. but it's more than that, really, she just thinks that other people shouldn't have to worry about her problems. flo is a serious bookworm. she spends hours and hours reading books on things she'll never do and places she'll never go and people she'll never meet because while she's reading the books, she is stealing buried treasure, or solving the murder on the orient express and she is miss marple or oskar schell or huckleberry finn. and that's the best feeling in the world. flo has a ridiculously accurate imagination. when she has dreams, they're like reality, possibly a product of her clinical psychosis. she loves her books and has a deep connection with them to the point where she would start to have a fit and cry if they were taken from her.[/font][/size][/ul][/ul]
juliana grace leclaire, 39, preschool teacher
wendy harriet glenn, 35, nurse
father :
graham lee carter, 49, lawyer
siblings :
ruth anne martin, 23, journalist
other :
vince james martin, 27, doctor, brother-in-law
birthplace :
tacoma, washington
significant other :
none
pets :
yeti, female great pyrenees, five
overall :
on march 17, juliana and wendy leclaire brought into their lives their second little girl. their first daughter, ruthie, was excited beyond measure about her little sister. at four years old, ruthie had already picked out a name and a personality for her sister. “she’s gon’a be named rainbow leclaire – after rainbow brite, ’cause she’s my favorite -- and she’ll be a unicorn-lover and she’s gon’a love pink, too, ‘cause i love pink an’ an’ an’ yeah. tha’s all i’ve got so far, but i’ma workin’ on it.” she told the nurse at the front desk, swinging her legs back and forth and giggling as she waited for her mother to come and tell her all about her little sister. the nurse smiled, thinking how lucky the baby was to have such a charismatic sister. juliana came out smiling. well, more like grinning, really, and looked at ruthie. “c’mon, ruthie, darling. momma’s had a little baby girl. we named her florence ruby.” ruthie’s face lit up and she swung out of the seat and pitter-pattered to her mother taking her hand. “where is she, mommy. i wan’a see her. and florence ruby is a good name, but i still think she shoulda been named rainbow, on account of rainbow brite bein’ the best ever.”
growing up, flo was normal. she began to speak at the normal time, walked at the normal time, began reading slightly earlier than most, but other than that she seemed completely fine. except her teachers noticed that flo didn’t have any friends, and she never spoke. when they tried to get her to speak, she would just look at them with her big blue eyes, looking completely terrified. by the time she was seven, flo was diagnosed with selective mutism, a severe social anxiety disorder that made her unable to talk to anyone who wasn’t her family. despite that speed bump, flo got on mostly ok. her selective mutism led to her teachers treating her slightly better than others, so she got made fun of a lot, which led to her being even more scared to talk to anyone. so she turned to books. starting from the age of eight, flo was never seen without a book in her hands. ever. she was always reading, never between books. when she couldn’t find books, she borrowed them from teachers. flo loved that, although in the real world she was shy and weird, she could just switch on her imagination and be whoever she wanted. it felt like flying.
at the age of sixteen, flo began to have hallucinations that she was in her books. it wasn’t her imagination, she was actually seeing and touching and hearing what was happening in her books, and when she watched a movie, similar things happened. she always felt like she was in danger and she would cry and have nightmares. at points, she couldn’t tell if her hallucinations were reality or not. it was at that point that her mothers checked her into brakken-lane. flo went willingly, and still is willing. she wants to get better; she doesn’t want to be crazy and unable to function in life forever. so she cooperates and goes along with everything they do. she’s been at bracken-lane for two years, though, and she wonders if she’ll ever get out.[/font][/size][/ul][/ul]
age : sixteen
experience : five
contacts : pm, aim: zoesaurus rex
anything else? : I may or may not use proper capitalization in my posts, but whatever I do will be consistent.
sample : [/size][/font][/ul][/ul]
when gio had first come to st. nicholas’ four years ago, he was only fourteen, terrified and almost in tears with gratitude. he still had the teddy bear, even though his testosterone had begged him otherwise. anyway, the first place gio had found upon wandering around the grounds as a wee freshman was the playground. he had been going there just to hang whenever he could for years, and today was no different. the fact that it was nearly nighttime and someone was sure to get on his case about being out after curfew was a minor, albeit broken, rule. he couldn't help thinking as he walked to the playground that the sunsets in bay city were absolutely beautiful. the orange and pink blended together with the clouds, making them turn violet. it was a darker color than one would expect for a sunset, but it was truly beautiful. had he been an artist, gio certainly would have spent days outside just painting picture after picture after picture of the sunsets.
he'd never be able to get the colors right, though. it wouldn't have worked.
anyway, as his reason for going to the playground at sunset, gio had felt the need to think, and he needed to get away from his roommate. he needed to get away from people in general. mostly because when he thought he talked to himself, and it got kind of embarrassing with other people around, but he also preferred to have no distractions.
so when he showed up at his playground and saw someone else there, he was a little freaked. he had to fight the urge to be upset about someone else being in his thinking area because that wasn’t a way to make friends and influence people. or whatever.
gio slowly walked up to the playground, breathing deeply and trying to be less freaked out. he changed his pace and put on a huge grin – his trademark grin, if you will – and waltzed up to the kid pushing down his stomachache that he knew was a result of combined nervousness and insecurity. he’d had stomachaches for as long as he could remember. if he thought hard, they really started after his dad left, but that wasn’t the point. gio focused on pushing the aches down to his feet and into the ground as he approached the other kid – a boy he could tell now – and grinned even wider. “hello, i’m ambrogio, but mostly people just call me gio. like geometry. or something. i dunno. wait. i’m gonna try that again, because that came out wrong.” gio took a deep breath, “ok, here we go: hi, i’m ambrogio pascutti. please call me gio, i much prefer it. if you call me ambrogio i may have a psychological breakdown. if you call me ambrogino, i’ll probably cry. or something. wait. goddamnit, i’m bad at this. ok, once more: i’m ambrogio. call me gio, please. and, although this is quite my playground, i'll be happy to share it with you, so long as you don't mind me talking to myself as i think about wonderful and beautiful things that may or may not concern myself, my past, and my future. what’s your name?” finally, gio thought. he’d never been too good at introductions. always too much to think about and what to say and what not to say. too complicated. at least he’d gotten through it, though.
he'd never be able to get the colors right, though. it wouldn't have worked.
anyway, as his reason for going to the playground at sunset, gio had felt the need to think, and he needed to get away from his roommate. he needed to get away from people in general. mostly because when he thought he talked to himself, and it got kind of embarrassing with other people around, but he also preferred to have no distractions.
so when he showed up at his playground and saw someone else there, he was a little freaked. he had to fight the urge to be upset about someone else being in his thinking area because that wasn’t a way to make friends and influence people. or whatever.
gio slowly walked up to the playground, breathing deeply and trying to be less freaked out. he changed his pace and put on a huge grin – his trademark grin, if you will – and waltzed up to the kid pushing down his stomachache that he knew was a result of combined nervousness and insecurity. he’d had stomachaches for as long as he could remember. if he thought hard, they really started after his dad left, but that wasn’t the point. gio focused on pushing the aches down to his feet and into the ground as he approached the other kid – a boy he could tell now – and grinned even wider. “hello, i’m ambrogio, but mostly people just call me gio. like geometry. or something. i dunno. wait. i’m gonna try that again, because that came out wrong.” gio took a deep breath, “ok, here we go: hi, i’m ambrogio pascutti. please call me gio, i much prefer it. if you call me ambrogio i may have a psychological breakdown. if you call me ambrogino, i’ll probably cry. or something. wait. goddamnit, i’m bad at this. ok, once more: i’m ambrogio. call me gio, please. and, although this is quite my playground, i'll be happy to share it with you, so long as you don't mind me talking to myself as i think about wonderful and beautiful things that may or may not concern myself, my past, and my future. what’s your name?” finally, gio thought. he’d never been too good at introductions. always too much to think about and what to say and what not to say. too complicated. at least he’d gotten through it, though.
