generic app & character info;
OOC Information
Name: Pepto
LJ: orujos
Contact: Twitter; pepto_milkshake [best method of contact] || AIM; peptomilkshake
IC Information
Name: Cécile Boccanegra [Principality of Monaco]
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Canon point: Present day, post-Christmas 2011
Age: Early 20's in appearance (she'll say 24 if prompted for a precise answer). Technically, though, she's been around since ~600-500 B.C.
Species: She's human in that she represents an entire nation of people.
Appearance/PB: Canon Chibi | Without Coat | 1 | 2
Though Monaco's color scheme seems to vary even within canon, she was finalized as having a dark, ash blonde shade of hair and light blue eyes. She's quite small, not even five feet tall, with a slender build and a penchant for wearing elegant clothes and heels to make herself appear taller. She has a mole on her chest that she's fairly self-conscious about.
Canon Resource Link:
Official Profile [Very inaccurate translation, though it's the only one available.]
Hetalia Wiki
New Hetalia Wiki
Monaco the Country
History of Monaco
More-Complete-Than-Wikipedia History of Monaco Timeline
Personality:
Monaco is, beyond all else, a nation of pride and indulgence. She carries her head high and her self-image higher, bowing only to her own desires. For her, there is no shame in pleasure, be it in the form of material possessions, lovers, or simply the sight of her own reflection in the mirror. Nothing is too good for her, no designer clothing too extravagant or champagne too expensive, and by now she’s come to expect the very best of everything by default. She regards herself as royalty among her fellow nations, and won’t stand to be treated as anything less.
None of this is to say, however, that Monaco is unaware of her good fortune, lost in herself and blind to the world. She’s one of, if not the most clever of her kind, long periods of time many would consider idle spent reading, studying, strategizing, gaining a better understanding of anything and everything. There are no surprises to her, only scenarios she’s already played out in her mind, though occasionally she ends up so far ahead in thought that she misses what is right in front of her. Her speech is formal and indicative of how well-versed she is, and she often uses words that send people scrambling for their dictionaries. One would think that, with her rather impressive intellectual capabilities, she would have an air of social awkwardness about her, but such is simply not the case. Conversation, flirtation, and seduction come naturally to her. She is a social butterfly, not a bookworm.
Unfortunately, as is occasionally the case with people who have such high mental capacities, Monaco suffers from severe anxiety and panic attacks. Her thoughts, particularly those regarding her comrades and the economy, have a tendency to race absolutely out of control, leaving her a sweating, shaking mess. Oftentimes, she tries to quell her anxiety by taking trips down to the harbor, as she’s heard the sound of the ocean is supposed to be calming, though (as much as she loves the sea) this method has yet to stave off a panic attack.
Monaco’s tiny economy relies very heavily on tourism to create income, and thus nearly everyone, nation or not, is a potential benefactor. If you meet her, chances are she’ll pour on the charm and try to lure you in for a vacation (or to her bed, at the very least). Her house [read “country”] is very small, however, and lacks the intricate history and unique culture of her larger neighbors, so she relies on more modern, superficial ways of keeping people’s attention: beautiful architecture and gardens, fancy hotels and casinos, high-end boutiques, and a Formula 1 racetrack. As such, this, along with rigorous maintenance and beautification of the city itself, manifests itself in Monaco the woman as a prominent vain streak. Though it may seem as if she tries to make herself physically attractive for the sake of other people’s happiness, in the end, the effects come full circle, and all of her hard work is indeed simply for herself.
Primping notwithstanding, Monaco is quite lazy. She doesn’t enjoy strenuous exercise much (she enjoys ballet mainly as a spectator), preferring instead to take long siestas in the afternoons and lounge for hours on end in the shade of a beach umbrella. She lacks any kind of artistic or musical abilities, as well. Her only real talent lies in her guile, her ability to get whatever it is she desires, even if the means fall outside the realm of being entirely scrupulous. For hundreds of years, her very existence depended on how effectively she could utilize the tensions of her neighbors, and so she pledged her loyalty to opposing parties and reaped the temporary peace that followed.
Such behavior led to a slight air of fickleness and emotional detachment at the time, Monaco never allowing herself to become more than marginally attached to any one person, always preparing for the political climate of Europe to change. Only once did she make the mistake of openly devoting herself to another nation, the leftover sting of bankruptcy and humiliation a much-needed reminder from Spain not to be so carelessly obliging. In the years that followed, Monaco eventually allowed herself to establish long-term friendships with the nations who treated her well; she learned to forgive slights against her, how to give away her affections without giving up control of herself. Even now, however, even with those she considers family, Monaco is hesitant to vocalize her deeper feelings for others, somehow still clinging to a desire for self-preservation.
With the exception of marine creatures (fish, sea snails, etc.), Monaco is not fond of animals, particularly ones with fur or sharp claws. She has even less interest in children and their noisy, messy, clumsy habits, preferring instead the refined company of (older) adults. That is not to say there haven’t been children she’s gotten along with, but Monaco lacks any sort of maternal instinct, and simply doesn’t know what to do when presented with a small child. She’ll make an effort to get along, though, forced and unsuccessful as it will be.
Powers & Abilities:
As a manifestation of a country, she possesses a kind of pseudo-immortality. While she may be killed by means similar to any human, such a state is only temporary, and she'll eventually revive on her own. As mentioned before, she's quite a card sharp, and not unlikely to actually cheat if given the opportunity.
Posting Samples
Third-Person Sample:
The buzz of her cell phone is barely audible over the waves that crash onto her rocky beach. A body, small and smooth and mostly bare, stirs after a few moments, forehead lifting up from where it rests against her arm. Monaco appears no different from anyone else on the beach, heiresses and multimillionaires lined up in identical lounge chairs on either side of her, taking in the sun which seems so much sweeter when you've paid a thousand euros for your swimsuit.
Slowly, languidly, the principality props herself up onto her elbows, reaching over onto the table beside her. Today was supposed to be a day off for her (never mind that she only works three days a week), so whatever message she's received must be urgent. There's a split second in which Monaco debates just rolling over and pretending she didn't hear her phone, though she knows her mind will wander back to any potential emergencies if she does so; she slides the device open, blue eyes squinting in the bright sunlight to read the text across her screen.
It's a text. From Spain. It's another link to a video, most likely of a baby or a kitten or possibly both, probably doing something messy or destructive. Monaco doesn't bother to hold in the inevitable sigh, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment as her head drops back down onto her forearm. She (along with how many others, she does not know, though at the very least, all of Western Europe is among the recipients of such things) is sent these messages at least twice a week, and always when she's preoccupied. Despite her constant irritation, she's never once said a word to him about this habit of his. She cannot bring herself to do so, to confront him directly about this.
Picking her head up again and setting her phone down beside her, France's number is entered without hesitation, delicate taps of her forefinger against the touchscreen yielding no errors.
Tell him to stop, Monaco types, the expression on her face never changing despite the flames of annoyance lapping at her consciousness. She knows her brother felt the same spark of aggravation she did upon opening his copy of the message; they've discussed this in detail in the past, and Monaco knows she'd asked him to please tell their neighbor to cease sending these constant pointless messages, but she has her doubts as to whether or not her request was carried out.
Just as she's about to hit Send, as an afterthought, Romano's phone number is added to her message's list of recipients. If anyone, Monaco knows he's the one who is likely to be the most frustrated by this constant barrage of video links, as well as the most apt to carry out her demands.
Her message sent, Monaco slides her phone shut again, resting her head back down on her forearm, tipping her phone up slightly so she can gaze at her reflection in the screen's surface. An attractive cabana boy passes behind her, and she follows him with her eyes, though she wonders whether or not anyone will do anything about these text messages this time.
Links: All threads are logged here. Threads with more serious characterization can be located on request.
Name: Pepto
LJ: orujos
Contact: Twitter; pepto_milkshake [best method of contact] || AIM; peptomilkshake
IC Information
Name: Cécile Boccanegra [Principality of Monaco]
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Canon point: Present day, post-Christmas 2011
Age: Early 20's in appearance (she'll say 24 if prompted for a precise answer). Technically, though, she's been around since ~600-500 B.C.
Species: She's human in that she represents an entire nation of people.
Appearance/PB: Canon Chibi | Without Coat | 1 | 2
Though Monaco's color scheme seems to vary even within canon, she was finalized as having a dark, ash blonde shade of hair and light blue eyes. She's quite small, not even five feet tall, with a slender build and a penchant for wearing elegant clothes and heels to make herself appear taller. She has a mole on her chest that she's fairly self-conscious about.
Canon Resource Link:
Official Profile [Very inaccurate translation, though it's the only one available.]
Hetalia Wiki
New Hetalia Wiki
Monaco the Country
History of Monaco
More-Complete-Than-Wikipedia History of Monaco Timeline
Personality:
Monaco is, beyond all else, a nation of pride and indulgence. She carries her head high and her self-image higher, bowing only to her own desires. For her, there is no shame in pleasure, be it in the form of material possessions, lovers, or simply the sight of her own reflection in the mirror. Nothing is too good for her, no designer clothing too extravagant or champagne too expensive, and by now she’s come to expect the very best of everything by default. She regards herself as royalty among her fellow nations, and won’t stand to be treated as anything less.
None of this is to say, however, that Monaco is unaware of her good fortune, lost in herself and blind to the world. She’s one of, if not the most clever of her kind, long periods of time many would consider idle spent reading, studying, strategizing, gaining a better understanding of anything and everything. There are no surprises to her, only scenarios she’s already played out in her mind, though occasionally she ends up so far ahead in thought that she misses what is right in front of her. Her speech is formal and indicative of how well-versed she is, and she often uses words that send people scrambling for their dictionaries. One would think that, with her rather impressive intellectual capabilities, she would have an air of social awkwardness about her, but such is simply not the case. Conversation, flirtation, and seduction come naturally to her. She is a social butterfly, not a bookworm.
Unfortunately, as is occasionally the case with people who have such high mental capacities, Monaco suffers from severe anxiety and panic attacks. Her thoughts, particularly those regarding her comrades and the economy, have a tendency to race absolutely out of control, leaving her a sweating, shaking mess. Oftentimes, she tries to quell her anxiety by taking trips down to the harbor, as she’s heard the sound of the ocean is supposed to be calming, though (as much as she loves the sea) this method has yet to stave off a panic attack.
Monaco’s tiny economy relies very heavily on tourism to create income, and thus nearly everyone, nation or not, is a potential benefactor. If you meet her, chances are she’ll pour on the charm and try to lure you in for a vacation (or to her bed, at the very least). Her house [read “country”] is very small, however, and lacks the intricate history and unique culture of her larger neighbors, so she relies on more modern, superficial ways of keeping people’s attention: beautiful architecture and gardens, fancy hotels and casinos, high-end boutiques, and a Formula 1 racetrack. As such, this, along with rigorous maintenance and beautification of the city itself, manifests itself in Monaco the woman as a prominent vain streak. Though it may seem as if she tries to make herself physically attractive for the sake of other people’s happiness, in the end, the effects come full circle, and all of her hard work is indeed simply for herself.
Primping notwithstanding, Monaco is quite lazy. She doesn’t enjoy strenuous exercise much (she enjoys ballet mainly as a spectator), preferring instead to take long siestas in the afternoons and lounge for hours on end in the shade of a beach umbrella. She lacks any kind of artistic or musical abilities, as well. Her only real talent lies in her guile, her ability to get whatever it is she desires, even if the means fall outside the realm of being entirely scrupulous. For hundreds of years, her very existence depended on how effectively she could utilize the tensions of her neighbors, and so she pledged her loyalty to opposing parties and reaped the temporary peace that followed.
Such behavior led to a slight air of fickleness and emotional detachment at the time, Monaco never allowing herself to become more than marginally attached to any one person, always preparing for the political climate of Europe to change. Only once did she make the mistake of openly devoting herself to another nation, the leftover sting of bankruptcy and humiliation a much-needed reminder from Spain not to be so carelessly obliging. In the years that followed, Monaco eventually allowed herself to establish long-term friendships with the nations who treated her well; she learned to forgive slights against her, how to give away her affections without giving up control of herself. Even now, however, even with those she considers family, Monaco is hesitant to vocalize her deeper feelings for others, somehow still clinging to a desire for self-preservation.
With the exception of marine creatures (fish, sea snails, etc.), Monaco is not fond of animals, particularly ones with fur or sharp claws. She has even less interest in children and their noisy, messy, clumsy habits, preferring instead the refined company of (older) adults. That is not to say there haven’t been children she’s gotten along with, but Monaco lacks any sort of maternal instinct, and simply doesn’t know what to do when presented with a small child. She’ll make an effort to get along, though, forced and unsuccessful as it will be.
Powers & Abilities:
As a manifestation of a country, she possesses a kind of pseudo-immortality. While she may be killed by means similar to any human, such a state is only temporary, and she'll eventually revive on her own. As mentioned before, she's quite a card sharp, and not unlikely to actually cheat if given the opportunity.
Posting Samples
Third-Person Sample:
The buzz of her cell phone is barely audible over the waves that crash onto her rocky beach. A body, small and smooth and mostly bare, stirs after a few moments, forehead lifting up from where it rests against her arm. Monaco appears no different from anyone else on the beach, heiresses and multimillionaires lined up in identical lounge chairs on either side of her, taking in the sun which seems so much sweeter when you've paid a thousand euros for your swimsuit.
Slowly, languidly, the principality props herself up onto her elbows, reaching over onto the table beside her. Today was supposed to be a day off for her (never mind that she only works three days a week), so whatever message she's received must be urgent. There's a split second in which Monaco debates just rolling over and pretending she didn't hear her phone, though she knows her mind will wander back to any potential emergencies if she does so; she slides the device open, blue eyes squinting in the bright sunlight to read the text across her screen.
It's a text. From Spain. It's another link to a video, most likely of a baby or a kitten or possibly both, probably doing something messy or destructive. Monaco doesn't bother to hold in the inevitable sigh, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment as her head drops back down onto her forearm. She (along with how many others, she does not know, though at the very least, all of Western Europe is among the recipients of such things) is sent these messages at least twice a week, and always when she's preoccupied. Despite her constant irritation, she's never once said a word to him about this habit of his. She cannot bring herself to do so, to confront him directly about this.
Picking her head up again and setting her phone down beside her, France's number is entered without hesitation, delicate taps of her forefinger against the touchscreen yielding no errors.
Tell him to stop, Monaco types, the expression on her face never changing despite the flames of annoyance lapping at her consciousness. She knows her brother felt the same spark of aggravation she did upon opening his copy of the message; they've discussed this in detail in the past, and Monaco knows she'd asked him to please tell their neighbor to cease sending these constant pointless messages, but she has her doubts as to whether or not her request was carried out.
Just as she's about to hit Send, as an afterthought, Romano's phone number is added to her message's list of recipients. If anyone, Monaco knows he's the one who is likely to be the most frustrated by this constant barrage of video links, as well as the most apt to carry out her demands.
Her message sent, Monaco slides her phone shut again, resting her head back down on her forearm, tipping her phone up slightly so she can gaze at her reflection in the screen's surface. An attractive cabana boy passes behind her, and she follows him with her eyes, though she wonders whether or not anyone will do anything about these text messages this time.
Links: All threads are logged here. Threads with more serious characterization can be located on request.