Post by katherine on Jan 14, 2011 23:39:01 GMT -5
katherine cecile rosenburg
character basics
WELCOME TO YOUR LIFE, THERE'S NO TURNING BACK. EVEN WHILE
YOU SLEEP, WE WILL FIND YOU ACTING ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR
WELCOME TO YOUR LIFE, THERE'S NO TURNING BACK. EVEN WHILE
YOU SLEEP, WE WILL FIND YOU ACTING ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR
FULL NAME , Katherine Cecile Rosenburg.
NICKNAMES , Kit.
AGE , Twenty-three.
BIRTHDAY , February 14th.
SEXUALITY , Straight.
GRADE , N/A.
OCCUPATION , Owener of KIT clothesline.
MEMBER GROUP , Celebrity.
hello, my name is RAVEN. i am SEVENTEEN years young and i consider myself a(n) ADVANCED roleplayer. i found this site through KARA. so, here's an example of my average post:
Smoking was a habit he hadn't really meant to pick up. Sure, he'd smoked a few cigs and a few less innocent things in high school, but it had usually been a situational thing, every once in a while, not really "smoking" at all. But college hadn't been easy; his classes were much more difficult than he'd expected them to be, he'd fallen into a bit of a depression that he didn't really know how to climb his way out of.
Slowly, "every once in a while" turned into "one or two a week," then every day. For a while, he'd been going through a friggin' pack a day, but he'd grown to hate it; he always smelled so strongly of it, and he didn't want to be one of those people that died of lung cancer at age forty. He had a lot to live for, depression or no. Weaning himself down hadn't taken as long as everyone around him had expected, because unlike most addicts, he had a serious, untorn desire to slow it down - and he had the knowledge that he wasn't quitting completely. That paired up with the fact that he'd done this before with drinking, gone from being drunk every night to making it more of a bi-weekly thing, made it almost laughably easy.
As of now, he stuck to a pretty strict schedule of one or two a day, with few exceptions - but unfortunately, today was one of those exceptions. He'd seen her outside the house as he'd been driving to work. He rarely went by it, anyway, without seeing it and thinking of her. Sure, they kept contact while she was at school, a few texts, a call here and there, an e-mail every once in a while - but it wasn't the same, not remotely. She'd been his second half for as long as he could remember, and it'd been five or six years now since they'd hung out every day and done everything together - since he'd beat kids at school to a pulp without telling her because they'd heard what they were saying about her, about her family. He hadn't tolerated it, still wouldn't, though the buffoons were older and more educated now and he scarcely ran into such a situation.
The scary part was that it felt like nothing had changed, when really, everything had. Seeing her out there had felt completely normal, totally right, even though he hadn't seen her in months and months. He knew she wasn't coming back for him - she was back for her mother. He still visited her relatively often, he knew the circumstances, and though she wasn't his biological mother and he had one he loved deeply, the impending loss of one of the few important female figures in his life was already hitting him hard. Seeing Erin that morning had driven the point home and sent him on an emotional roller coaster that he hadn't escaped from all day; joy that she was there, dread because of what had brought her there. And so, at least for today, he didn't feel bad that he'd been smoking up a storm.
Directly after work, he'd gone home and showered - half an hour ago now - but had quickly found himself totally at a loss. He wanted to go see her; he wanted to wait for her to come see him. He'd settled eventually for making his way to the old playground they'd spent so much time at, the one somewhat close to her house, and that was where he now found himself, not even remembering going there. The cigarette was still between his lips, his fingers frozen just before taking it out, when he noticed her there, singing. Unwillingly, he felt himself being absorbed as always into the sound of her voice, and he leaned against a nearby tree, watching silently. He removed the dirty little habit from his mouth, exhaling a slow, steady stream of smoke into the air, completely ignoring the anxious looks he was getting from kids' parents, and repeated the motion several times until she had finished singing.
He stood up straight, walking over to the little children's carousal from behind her and sitting down on the edge of it, sending them for a slight spin. "You didn't tell me I could come here for free concerts," he commented idly, observing the cigarette he was switching between his fingers and holding back a grin. Didn't matter what had happened or what the circumstances were, not at the moment. He'd missed her, and he was glad to have her back.
Slowly, "every once in a while" turned into "one or two a week," then every day. For a while, he'd been going through a friggin' pack a day, but he'd grown to hate it; he always smelled so strongly of it, and he didn't want to be one of those people that died of lung cancer at age forty. He had a lot to live for, depression or no. Weaning himself down hadn't taken as long as everyone around him had expected, because unlike most addicts, he had a serious, untorn desire to slow it down - and he had the knowledge that he wasn't quitting completely. That paired up with the fact that he'd done this before with drinking, gone from being drunk every night to making it more of a bi-weekly thing, made it almost laughably easy.
As of now, he stuck to a pretty strict schedule of one or two a day, with few exceptions - but unfortunately, today was one of those exceptions. He'd seen her outside the house as he'd been driving to work. He rarely went by it, anyway, without seeing it and thinking of her. Sure, they kept contact while she was at school, a few texts, a call here and there, an e-mail every once in a while - but it wasn't the same, not remotely. She'd been his second half for as long as he could remember, and it'd been five or six years now since they'd hung out every day and done everything together - since he'd beat kids at school to a pulp without telling her because they'd heard what they were saying about her, about her family. He hadn't tolerated it, still wouldn't, though the buffoons were older and more educated now and he scarcely ran into such a situation.
The scary part was that it felt like nothing had changed, when really, everything had. Seeing her out there had felt completely normal, totally right, even though he hadn't seen her in months and months. He knew she wasn't coming back for him - she was back for her mother. He still visited her relatively often, he knew the circumstances, and though she wasn't his biological mother and he had one he loved deeply, the impending loss of one of the few important female figures in his life was already hitting him hard. Seeing Erin that morning had driven the point home and sent him on an emotional roller coaster that he hadn't escaped from all day; joy that she was there, dread because of what had brought her there. And so, at least for today, he didn't feel bad that he'd been smoking up a storm.
Directly after work, he'd gone home and showered - half an hour ago now - but had quickly found himself totally at a loss. He wanted to go see her; he wanted to wait for her to come see him. He'd settled eventually for making his way to the old playground they'd spent so much time at, the one somewhat close to her house, and that was where he now found himself, not even remembering going there. The cigarette was still between his lips, his fingers frozen just before taking it out, when he noticed her there, singing. Unwillingly, he felt himself being absorbed as always into the sound of her voice, and he leaned against a nearby tree, watching silently. He removed the dirty little habit from his mouth, exhaling a slow, steady stream of smoke into the air, completely ignoring the anxious looks he was getting from kids' parents, and repeated the motion several times until she had finished singing.
He stood up straight, walking over to the little children's carousal from behind her and sitting down on the edge of it, sending them for a slight spin. "You didn't tell me I could come here for free concerts," he commented idly, observing the cigarette he was switching between his fingers and holding back a grin. Didn't matter what had happened or what the circumstances were, not at the moment. He'd missed her, and he was glad to have her back.
------ this section is optional for those who want a detailed app------
character details
TURN YOUR BACK ON MOTHER NATURE, EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD
IT'S MY OWN DESIGN, IT'S MY OWN REMORSE, HELP ME TO DECIDE.
TURN YOUR BACK ON MOTHER NATURE, EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD
IT'S MY OWN DESIGN, IT'S MY OWN REMORSE, HELP ME TO DECIDE.
HEIGHT , Five foot four.
EYE COLOR , Hazel.
HAIR COLOR , Dark brown.
PLAY-BY , Sophia Bush.
character history
HELP ME MAKE THE MOST OF FREEDOM AND OF PLEASURE. NOTHING
EVER LASTS FOREVER. EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD.
HELP ME MAKE THE MOST OF FREEDOM AND OF PLEASURE. NOTHING
EVER LASTS FOREVER. EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD.
MOTHER , Lydia Clyde-Monet.
FATHER , Ash Monet.
SIBLINGS , None.
PETS , Her husband? xD
OTHER IMPORTANT FIGURES,
James Rosenburg - husband.
Odette Rosenburg - daughter.
HOMETOWN , Buffalo, NY.