Post by MYLÈNE LACOQUINE on Feb 12, 2013 13:07:06 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #1f4579 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] At the end of the day you're another day colder FULL NAME: Mylène “LaCoquine” NICKNAMES: Mylie, Coquine HERITAGE: French AGE: Eighteen GROUP: ABC Alliance CANON: Nope PLAYBY: Astrid Berges-Frisbey ----- PERSONALITY: The first thing anyone would probably would notice about Mylène is her cockiness and her bounciness. She is very lively, and so often appears younger than her eighteen years of age. Anyone not getting along with her sometimes childish ideas is deemed a spoilsport by her, and she often sweeps across the room like a whirlwind, not caring what more ‘mature’ people could think of her. There is one thing however she is deadly serious about: Justice and Equality. Growing up in Paris, a city that combines glamour and glitter with poverty and disparity like only a few other cities can, where the sewers and backstreets compete with the pompous Louvre and Versailles for your attention, Mylène has somehow never been able to turn a blind eye to what she saw and still sees today where she is now. From an early age, she loved the tales of the Great Revolutions that took place in the very same streets she was now roaming only a few years earlier. It all seemed so wonderfully easy, raise the barricades and fight for what you think is right! Injustice in general is a red rag for her. If she sees injustice done by greed and superciliousness you can bet she will not stay silent for long. Or she stays silent, and that is when you should be most afraid, as then she is plotting for some greater scheme. That this often got her in trouble with authorities needn’t be said, and she more than once had to make a quick escape to not be arrested by constables. Those however who treat her nice and can put up with her sometimes peculiar ways, will find a true friend in her, who somehow often seems to know just what to say when you have a problem, since she has a deeply developed sense of empathy. Above all, Mylène is hopelessly reckless and that has brought her into many tight spots already. She just cannot shut her big mouth even if her (immortal) life depended on it and she can think too high of herself, being too audacious in situations when stealth and consideration might suit her better, according to the principle: Will work out… somehow… As if that wasn’t enough, she is also stubborn and you often enough can’t reason with her strong will She also has a weakness for adventurous and smart boys, and so savours the company she got into due to her work in the ABC café, often loving to get into witty banters with the students. APPEARANCE: Height and build:
Hair: Her hair is a chestnut brown and falls in gentle curls almost down to her waist. She usually wears them with a side parting over her right eye, and the hair at the utmost front is a bit shorter than the rest, but not short enough you could call them bangs, she still can tug them behind the ear. Eyes: Mylène’s eyes are green, not bright emerald, but a dimmer shade and there is a little circle of black around the iris, and if you come close enough you can find little specks of brown in them as well. Wardrobe and style: Mylène can be found in the usual bodice and skirts worn by the women of her time, and often she wears a thin blouse beneath the bodice, wide enough to sometimes leave her shoulders bare when she moves a lot while working. When serving in the café you can also see her wear an apron. All in all her clothes are worn but clean. Should she feel the need to go out exploring and gathering information, she might dress up as a boy I trousers, for the sole purpose of being able to make better escapes without entangling herself in her skirts. GOALS: Mylène wants to fight for a better world, a world where people are viewed as equals and live and work together instead of always setting up invisible walls of seperation. She also wants to find out what happened to Alain ‘Le Corbier’, who showed her a better world and future, but was arrested for treason, conveying dangerous information. HISTORY: Mylène was born in 1814 to a French peasant family as the seventh surviving child. Her parents were unbelievably poor as times were bad and there had been some bad harvests in the last two years that made the wheat and therefore bread prizes rise up into the sky. Mylène was one mouth too many to feed, and after a few years with things getting worse and a few heated arguments between her parents her father Gaspard sold the six year old girl for a few precious Sous to a passing wealthy looking man who said he would take her into his leather manufactory in Paris. Mylène was by no means willing to go, and the bad feeling the young girl had about this was soon to be confirmed, as the leather manufactory turned out to be just a step from her personal hell. The food was as scarce as it had been at home, there were many children about doing the complicated and heavy work of adults because they were cheaper to get than normal workers. Mylène and her many companions were often beaten, mistreated and otherwise left to their own devices. This two years until little Mylène worked up the courage to run away would be forever branded into her mind, kindling the hate for those with enough money to own others and treat them badly. One night, she escaped with two fellow work children and knowing that their families had probably all but forgotten about them, they sought to fend for themselves, soon joining a band of children living in the so called Cour de Miracles of Paris and stealing to survive. The following years were no less dictated by hunger and fear as they had before, but at least the stealing part made Mylène think she could do something against the injustice and inequality between people she was confronted with every day. At the age of twelve, her life finally seemed to take a turn for the better, even though it certainly started out as a blessing in disguise. One winter morning the girl was following a man that might not look overly wealthy but certainly stuck out with his colorful clothing and his confident stride, aiming for the purse at the man’s waistbelt. When he turned into a narrow alley, she squeezed past him, ripped the purse from his belt, and started down the alley, starting to climb the wall further down the street. But she didn’t find as many footholds as expected and so when the man ran up to her, he still could grab one of her ankles and pulled her down with surprising strength. Of course now Mylène expected him to call a constable and started to fight and scratch, but the man surprised her by asking if she wanted to learn how to climb even such difficult walls swiftly and properly, and how good her balancing skills were. Then he introduced himself as Alain ‘Le Corbier’, head of a band of jugglers who travelled throughout the Ile de France and beyond and tried to bring at least some joy to the troubled minds of the populations – and of course to work for whoever paid best, conveying messages and selling information. Looking at the skinny and famished girl in front of him, he then asked, if she wanted to join their group, not promising her safety, but a thrilling life with a fully belly at least half the days of a week. Mylène might not have been trained in the art of logic, but she was smart enough to take an opportunity once it presented itself. Knowing that such chances never return to you if you refuse them, she went with Alain and left the Cour de Miracles behind. Amongst the ‘Corbiers’, as they called themselves, Mylène experienced something close to a family feeling for the first time since she had been sold to that leather manufacturer. She learned much from them and became a valuable member of their show, doing rope dancing and juggling – and sometimes even was allowed to accompany Alain on his trips throughout the nightly streets of Paris, being the lookout for when he met up with people in dark corners and dimly lit houses, conducting business he never betrayed to anyone, claiming it was ‘too dangerous’. One night however, when Mylène had only just turned sixteen, Alain did not return from where he had went, and the next thing they heard in the morning was that he had been busted and arrested, those capturing him accusing him of treason. Alain’s wife Estelle, who had become almost something like a mother figure to Mylène, had been instructed long ago to pack up and lead the Corbiers out of Paris should that ever happen, and only return when enough time had passed to make people forget their association with Alain. Basically, he had ordered to be left to his own devices, and Estelle obliged – but not so Mylène. With Alain’s capture she felt her time with the Corbiers coming to a close, and she was too stubborn to simply accept he would be rotting in prison or being killed and there would be nothing she could do about it. While the jugglers left, Mylène stayed in Paris and looked for a new life. Not wanting to return to her life as a thief – or go down the road many girls of her looks and age had if they were in need of money – she sought for a position as a barmaid and found it in the so-called ABC café, an establishment that was mostly frequented by young students and other intellectuals. Whenever she did not serve there, she tried to work through Alain’s old contacts throughout the city, to find out whatever happened to him, since there had been no public execution. Whatever he had known or told, it must have been so explosive they rather let him vanish into thin air than make a show of his execution. But even now, two years later, she has still to find any hot lead as to his whereabouts. While working in the café though, Mylène got acquainted with some of the students being there almost every night, and serving them drinks and sometimes staying in the room a bit longer, she couldn’t help but overhear their talk about changing the life in Paris for the better, of finally bringing justice and equality, since the glorious days of the revolutions seemed to have brought no real changes in the end. The time was ripe for another uprising, slowly Paris was brewing into another powderkeg. And Mylène suddenly found that this was the answer to all her questions and concerns. Too long had she lived the life of the poorest, seen and experienced things she never wished on anyone, and the fiery words of the students incited her like a torch that had been yearning to burn. Her decision was set: With all that she was, with all that she could do, she would try to help the ABC friends to bring about a succesful revolution, sharing their dream of a better world beyond the barricades. ----- ALIAS: Gwen AGE: 24 GENDER: female OTHER CHARACTERS: N/A HOW DID YOU FIND US: Slayer said the magic word! ROLEPLAY SAMPLE: Alright… she had to face it, she was lost! Mieke stopped and raked a hand through her white blonde hair, turning slowly in a circle, trying to find out where exactly she might have taken a wrong turn. She didn’t like this area, it must be somewhere near the haven, and haven areas were always shabby and shady, especially now dusk was slowly settling over the buzzing city of Miami. How stupid… she should know better than try to find shortcuts at the early stage of her being here! She had grown up in Den Haag, she knew how quickly you could get lost in Port areas! And the worst thing was that she couldn’t exactly ask for the way, even if she had happened upon a single soul by now. She would try to talk with her hands of course, but how would you say “I am lost”? Mieke had discarded the idea of taking sign language for now, since that would only enable her to communicate with a special amount of people, the mute and deaf, and how big were the chances to stumble on those?! No… what she needed was her voice, or at least some practical idea, and much patience. Shaking her head, she turned another corner, only to find that this street turned out to be nothing much more than a blind alley, ending in front of a shabby brick wall with two large but overflowing waste containers. Great, just great… but before she could turn back, Mieke suddenly heard oily laughter coming from the street she had just left and a moment later, she saw four young men, roughly about her age or a little older, staggering by. Judging from their clothes, they were either seamen or working at the docks – and even though the night was still young, they apparently had a little too much to drink already. In the first moments before she had really recognized who she was facing, Mieke had taken an impulsive step forward, keen on finally meeting SOMEONE that might show her the way out of this labyrinth and direct her back to the North Beach and the home of the beavy. But now she regretted that movement, since it caught their attention. Shushing each other, the men turned and stared into the alley, one of them suddenly chuckling again as he realized who he was facing. “Lordy, lads! Look a’ tha’ hussy! Doesn’ look like she belongs ‘ere a’ all” he slurred, grinning and showing a row of yellow teeth. “Can we help, missy?” Mieke swallowed and tried to stand taller than she actually was, shaking her head firmly, though she did not dare and try to walk past them, even though every muscle in her body screamed at her to flee. “Eh, no speaky to us?” a second asked, taking a step forward and reaching out his hand, which made Mieke flinch backwards. “Tha’s no very niiiice, ya know! C’mon tell ya name!” “Who neee-ssa name?!” the third one piped up, letting go a wheezing laugh which made Mieke think he might be a regular smoker shortly before falling ill of lung cancer, “there’s osseer ssing I’d wan frommeer. Whooss wi’ me?! Pre’y lil ssing!” The other three joined in his laughter and slowly advanced now, their eyes glittering with a kind of expression Mieke had never seen before – and had never desired to see! They were closing their ranks, there was no way she could run past them… her only way was back… and that was no way at all! Slowly nearing the waste containers, Mieke’s mouth was suddenly dry like dust. Should she try her last option and shift?! As a swan, she at least had two strong wings and a sharp beak… But she had been hesitating too long. The first man who had spoken suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, roughly pulling her towards him so she could smell the bottom shelf liquor on his breath. “Now c’mon, hussy, night is still young…!” Mieke’s mouth opened into a soundless scream. Only air escaped her throat even though she tried and tried. This was it… she should have never come to Miami! And the shirt on your back doesn't keep out the chill |
