Post by jane on Aug 27, 2008 4:14:03 GMT
jane jocasta rossi ,
cold, calculated, masochistic, introverted, precise, professional, distant, aloof, intelligent and clever, yet lacks wit or humor, disturbed, irritable, arrogant, manipulative, charming, uncaring.
alias •• Joy (Hi Katie Hi! *waves*)[/blockquote]
age •• Sixteen.
how you find us? •• ad hopping.
contact •• ilyhearts@gmail.com for personal stuff, singalongblog@gmail.com for anything roleplay related please and thank you <3
other characters •• none yet.
rp sample ••
"Jane, bambino il più caro..." Aro's sickeningly sweet voice pulled Jane out of the folds of her mind, where she had become so accustomed to hiding. Separate from her body, her mind did not have to tolerate the pain. Lost in the ecstasy of her thoughts, her newly immortal body would endure for her what the human parts of her could not.
The child's brow knotted in confusion and her small frail hand shot out to grab that of her mentor's. In the weeks since her change, she had learned much, but perhaps the most vital thing she had learned was that Aro had only one weak spot. With her arsonal of painful memories, the constant fire that consumed her very being, his gift became his Achilles heel. Still, what she considered an attack, Aro found playful antics. He laughed and pulled his hand away from hers, his cool skin sliding under her tiny palm.
“Good, good,” He affirmed in her native tongue of Italian. She hissed in response, although the sound was barely audible even to a vampire's ears. The stale breath exiting her lungs stirred the dust that rested on the walnut table between the two figures, who may as well have been fine marble statues. Jane's posture was impeccable- feet crossed at the heels, back arched ever so slightly, head politely cocked to one side. Only her face showed the faintest signs of trauma. Her body language was that of an inquisitive child.
In her brief time in Volterra, she had not spoken a word or made a sound. Her brother, all to supportive of their new captures, their saviors in a way, had been her mouth piece. Telepathy was not a good word to put to their connection, especially not with somebody like Aro around (who was actually capable of such a feat). It was more like an intuitive empathy they had always shared. The bond of twins. Speech, she found, was only a thing that tied her to a painful reality. As she had not yet found a reason to speak, she hadn't. Basic level reasoning.
“Not good,” She hissed. Her bell-like voice felt like quicksilver moving over her tongue. She hadn't heard much of this new voice, but from what she had she liked it. It was the voice of someone innocent, the voice of somebody that could be trusted. This sort of voice, which was so different from her shrill human tone, would get her places. It was a tool that she would use for success. Even as a child of thirteen, of this she was certain.
Aro didn't look taken aback in the slightest at Jane's sudden words, nor did he look pleased, or even slightly amused, which was he default expression. Instead, he looked slightly troubled, or perturbed, as if she had spoken ill of God, or said a lie. She was confused by the reaction. Her prediction had been delight, which she could picture Aro wearing clearly, his hands fluttering about his sides in that amused fashion of his, his lips pulled tight into a smile.
“It is an improvement,” He pushed. Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted even farther to the right, her dark brown locks cascading off her shoulder. With her flawless ivory skin, rich dark hair and the attire of a princess, she looked like an eerie porcelain doll- crafted rather than born. Her expression, one of harsh anger, and burning red eyes were the only thing out of place, glaringly obvious flaws to an otherwise perfect depiction of an angel.
“An improvement!” She yelled, a sharp edge creeping its way into her honeysuckle voice. She flung her hands in the air, knocking her chair over as she stood up. She felt the need for physical comfort, the motion of walking. She'd been still for much too long. “Is it an improvement that I cannot feel my limbs, on a good day?” She mourned, her eyes dry of tears but her voice quavering none the less. “This fire, Aro, you put it out weeks ago and yet the pain has not ceased. Is there no rest for me?”
“You are extremely articulate for a child, my dear,” Aro observed, drawing another angry cry from the little girl. He nodded, folding his hands over his chest while she paced the length of the small stone room, her tiny fists occasionally grinding their way into the walls in frustration. “Good, good,” He affirmed again. She sobbed a half-sob, turning tearfully to her sire, her red eyes glowing in the darkness. “Be angry,” He clarified. “Be angry at me. Make me feel your pain, push it from your mind.”
And for a glorious instant, as she concentrated, the pain lifted from her numb limbs and she could feel again. She felt the rush of the cold air as the fire ceased, and her joy at this was only strengthened by Aro's screams of pain as he writhed on the floor. She felt powerful. She felt relieved. She felt immortal.
