[OOC: Application~]
Just for reference purposes.
USER INFO:
Your LJ name: pyratesss.
Age: Nineteen~ [well not for another week or so but let us not split hairs, right?]
Gender: Female.
AIM [preferred]/MSN/E-mail: pyratesss/pyratesss@hotmail.com/pyrateamie@gmail.com
CHARACTER INFO:
Name: Diana Cheverie.
Fandom: Rule of Rose.
Age: Twenty-two.
Gender: Female.
Sexuality: Lesbian, though she really just gets off on power over her partner, regardless of gender. Men just tend to fall into the 'customer' category.
Appearance: Diana is a lithe young woman, with long flowing red hair that just reaches around the middle of her back. The hair is slightly wavy around the bottom portions. She always wears it down, never up. She has pale skin, littered with scatterings of freckles [mostly over her cheeks/nose, arms, shoulders, etcetc]. Her eyes are a deep and dark blue, contrasting well with her hair. She is the type who loves to dress elegantly, though that isn't always possible when most of one's wardrobe are either stolen or second-hand. She wears what she can, but she prefers dresses and long skirts, and has since she was a child. Her only truly constant piece of wardrobe is a pair of worn-out looking brown boots that she almost always wears. She also had a green scarf/tie that she wore around her neck, and she was quite angry when it was confiscated from her upon her arrival to Malaise. After all, she /is/ at a danger of strangling others with it and all.
Personality: Manipulative and cruel, Diana isn't likely to be the type of girl that anyone seeks out as a friend or companion. She is cold, calculated, and used to a position of power and control. Even as a child, she was unpleasant and mean spirited, unless she truly respected the person [which, naturally, was rare]. It could be blamed upon her poor upbringing and sad childhood, yes, but that is neither here nor there. She is a girl who knows what she wants, and isn't afraid to use any less than conventional methods to get it, whether it be cruel and unusual torture, or nasty words and backstabbing others. As a girl who was sexualized at a very young age, and dabbled in working the sex trade for a portion of her life, she can be quite seductive when she needs to, though she is mostly straight forward with things, rather than trying to impress others to receive them. The direct route always works better for her. Even though she is rather cold, and acts as if she needs no one, she has always been quite dependent [ironically] upon the dependency of others. All of her life, it seems as if she has had someone who needed her, even if she was nothing but cruel to them, and it is something she revels in; having powers over other people is more than just a little exciting for her, definitely. One would even say she gets off on her power and manipulation of others, though she would never openly admit such things to anybody.
ROLEPLAY:
How Your Character Got to Malaise House:
Born [quite accidentally] to a young prostitute immigrated into London from the streets of France, Diana never knew the love of a family or the embrace of a parent. Her mother only carried Diana to term because she was unable to afford an abortion of the child from her womb. She saw the pregnancy as nothing but a sad accident and a bother that kept her from earning herself enough money to survive. She never had an intention to keep the child, she gave birth in an alley way [with the help of a friend] and only held the infant long enough to name her, and hand her over to the nuns at the nearest local orphanage.
And thus began Diana's existence, an unfortunate accident and problem child, destined to fall into nothing more than a constant downward spiral. Tossed from orphanage to orphanage for the first ten years of her life, Diana was a cold and distant child. She was quite different, always causing trouble, and being difficult to deal with. With a foul mouth and a quick tongue, she was cruel and violent, and often attacked the other children that she lived with, or performed mean tricks on them for her own amusement, and the amusement of the few children she kept as accomplices. In the time in which Diana was a child, mental illness was not particularly something that a lot of doctors believed in diagnosing so readily, so even though she was definitely mentally ill from the beginning of her life, it was never something dealt with during these times. It was something no one cared to look into when dealing with a child with no parents who lived on charity of the state, and was lucky to receive one yearly check up from a physician. Because of her mean disposition and difficult attitude, Diana was never even considered for adoption by visiting potential parents. After only moments within her company, no sane couple looking to adopt would subject themselves to such a troubled youth.
When Diana turned ten years old, that was the year she was transferred to the Red Rose Orphanage in Cardington. She rarely spent more than one year in any particular orphanage, since the caretakers were very eager to get rid of her, however they could. This also put strain on any social skills the girl may have developed, since she was pulled away from 'friends' frequently. However, the Red Rose Orphanage would become one of the only places that Diana would ever consider a true 'home'. Though Diana was often the subject of punishment for her acting out, as well as molestation [and eventually rape] by the orphanage's headmaster, Mr Hoffman, it was still the best home she had ever stumbled into. Besides, she knew other girls were being touched by the headmaster as well, so she could deal.. and at least they didn't give her away so soon either. She easily fell in with a crowd of younger girls there; Eleanor, Wendy, and Meg in particular. With Wendy as their make-shift 'leader', the girls established a sort of club.. the Red Crayon Aristocracy, a pretend hierarchy of royalty, in a game where they pretended to be flying an air ship. The girls took this game very seriously, with initiation rituals and sacrifices. They worked with Wendy as their Princess, Diana as the Duchess, Meg as the Baroness, and Eleanor as the Countess. The other children also played princes and princesses, each with their own nasty nicknames. Even though Diana would have much preferred to run as the leader of the group, she obediently remained in second command, answering only to Wendy, and doing the blonde's bidding willingly and happily, no matter how absurd or cruel the games may have become. Four years later, when Diana was turning about fourteen, another girl joined their ranks; Wendy's new friend, her prince, Jennifer. Through Wendy's wishes, all of the other children were cruel to Jennifer, and so she would have and rely only upon Wendy herself. Whereas the previous new girl, Amanda, had been their scape goat and focus of cruelty, now Jennifer fit into the role. They performed horrible tortures upon Jennifer [killing her puppy being just one of their cruel acts], at Wendy's command. Wendy kept the girls in line with lies, and with threats of the 'Stray Dog' and imps, whom Wendy said would come to the orphanage and kill children who were not obedient. She claimed only she could control Stray Dog, and keep him at bay.
And that was why, when Wendy was pushed from her throne by Jennifer [who temporarily become the new 'Princess' of their aristocracy], Wendy took her lies and threats to the bank and finally fulfilled her own morbid prophecy. Months had passed, and the headmaster had in fact abandoned the orphanage and the children within, and so they were on their own rules while Wendy left, and worked on manipulating a local man, Gregory Wilson. Gregory was quite mentally unstable himself after the death of his only child, and Wendy convinced him to attack the children of Red Rose Orphanage, to punish them. She posed as his son, Joshua, to accomplish this goal, and ultimately succeeded. Jennifer was the only child to leave the massacre unscathed [physically at least], as Gregory took his own life with his pistol on the front lawn of the orphanage.
Three weeks after the incident, Diana awoke in a local hospital. She didn't know about the whereabouts or conditions of the other children, and figured she was the only one left alive. She didn't question it. Within the month, she recovered from a broken leg, some fractured ribs, numerous cuts and bruises, and was shipped off to another orphanage, told she had gotten off easily from the massacre. She lived in that orphanage for the next two years. She was acting out as she always had and causing trouble, and the molestation she had received from her previous headmaster was continued by the next. She was, after all, becoming a woman.. and it wasn't often that such a lovely species of young lady fell into the lap of any old orphanage. When the two years passed, and Diana turned sixteen, she was officially of age, and left the orphanage of her own free will. She had no idea where to go, or what to do. Her plans were non-existent. She considered seeking out her mother [she had choice words for that whore], or perhaps trying to find out who he father was. She doubted it was possible, but.. she had always been mildly curious. Looking further into the massacre at Red Rose did not even cross her mind; in her eyes, that life, and those children [those friends], were dead. Dead to her, and dead to the world. She would never return to Cardington, so long as she lived.
Turning to the only thing she knew, the only talent she had, sex work was the best profession she could find. She tried waitressing for one week, but lost the job after getting into a fist fight with a co-worker that ended in the other woman's nose being broken. No one wanted to hire a sixteen year old girl without experience or education. She excelled at it, and felt no shame, even if it was filthy work, and an unconscious mimic of the mother she would never know. Her work was violent, and she didn't complain; nor did her clients. Rough was how she lived, and how she serviced. She was a traveler, never staying in one place for too long; traveling the country, traveling the continent. Stowing away in boats and trains, sleeping in the streets and in shelters, drinking and smoke, experimenting with whatever she could get her hands on, stealing what she could and manipulating the rest. No matter where she went, she seemed to have a run in with the law, for one reason or another. She was frequently busted for theft, prostitution, assault, and was often forced to flee the city. She was no stranger to changing her name and identity, and to nights, and even weeks, in prison cells. She never managed to have a steady home of her own, or a competent income, during her 'adult' life but it didn't bother her much. She lived it day by day, one at a time.
That was just how life was for her, from the age of sixteen to twenty two. It all seemed like one blur, like she never aged a day, like the hospital and the orphanages had been just an hour prior. At least, until she took things too far. One night, working with a client, things got out of hand with violence and dominance, and before she knew it there was a shattered champagne bottle on the carpet, a knife in his throat and blood over her hands and the hotel bed, and the police were at the door. Her petty theft and other discrepancies were small compared to first degree murder, though it didn't help that they came to light when she was brought to court on the charge. Who was going to believe a hooker, anyway? Her shady upbringing and background, as well as her lifestyle and her tendency to fake identities, did not help. However, when she was placed on trial for the charge, it was a lengthy and controversial case, that ended with her not being held responsible for her actions. Mentally ill, they said. Not stable, clinically insane, not held responsible for reason of said insanity. And rather than cuffs and chains and life behind bars, it was cuffs and chains and life in a padded cell. Off to the nut house, out of the country, away from civilization, a danger to no one, off to snowy Russia, to a place called Malaise House; the best in the business, really great for rehabilitating the ill, like her. It was sure to be a great time. Just another great big orphanage. An orphanage for crazy people, for the retards. Who would the headmaster this time? Would he be gentle? Did he like her to cry during? Sometimes, they liked that. She just hoped they had cigarettes, and a stiff drink.
Symptoms Your Character Experiences (If Any):
Diana shows obvious symptoms of childhood abuse [mostly sexual though some physical and emotional], as well as sadism. She very much likes to make people her bitch, as violently as possible. It's mostly sexual sadism, but it does transfer out of the bedroom frequently. I'll also toss her down for kleptomania, since stealing is basically how she survived and fed herself for the last six years of life or so. She also kind of has mommy issues [good luck getting her to admit that], but that's not really a disorder in itself.
Example Journal Entry:
Once, I read that suffering in silence is a woman's lot. It isn't ladylike to suffer out loud.
To look happy is a show of bad faith, they say. It's a way of letting your sex down.
They say women are born martyrs. Maybe we were even martyrs in the womb?
Fuck it, I say.
Fuck reading, and fuck silence, and fuck martyrs and bullshit metaphors and philosophical shit.
To hell with that, I think. I'm a convict, aren't I? I don't need to think about things that way. I'm conspicuous now, aren't I? How droll.
All I hope is that this piece of shit has a cupboard full of whiskey, and some stupid fucking orderly with an aching crotch and a pocket full of smokes. Amen to that.
Now /that/ is a woman's lot.
Do what you need.
I haven't been this nervous since I wrote to mother. Do you remember that, then? They sent me back a notification that she was dead. She had no address anyway. Just the same as me. Some slut dead on the corner, buried by the country, unmarked grave. group cremation.
That's this whore's fault.. all of it..
What a worthless mother.
I don't have a mother.
Example Post:
She didn't have much of anything to take along with her. When you lived on the streets, and on people's couches, and under the trees in the parks, you didn't really accumulate much that you took along with you. All she had were those boots [sturdy and years old and perfect for kicking ass], a zippo lighter, a couple of outfits, thirty pounds, and half of a package of cigarettes. She didn't even have a birth certificate, no social security numbers, no bank cards. So far as the world was concerned, Diana Cheverie had never graced it's face. Virtually, she didn't exist.
Was that how mother had thought of her? Not existing? Did she think about her, as Diana thought of her right now, in the back of this paddy wagon; her eyes closed, and her face resting against the cool window beside her. What had mother looked like? That same red hair, freckles, pale skin? Were her eyes blue, or was that from the father? Didn't eye color get carried through the dad's chromosomes? Hadn't Meg talked about that once, years ago? They had done a lesson on it. Meg had taught it. Diana hadn't listened. She had humiliated Meg. She threw crumpled papers at her when she turned her back, or lowered her head to read, and the other kids had laughed, and Xavier laughed so hard that he choked on his pastry. Where had he gotten that, anyway? Bloody fat twit.
When the vehicle jostled to a stop, and the engine rolled over, stalling, Diana awoke from her daze. Were they there already? So soon? The windows in there were fogged, and she had to lift a hand to wipe at the closest one, clearing the condensation away so that she could see outside.
Snow, a lot of snow. She had never seen so much snow in her life, really, back in London, or any of the other places she had lived. This was the most snow ever, and she suddenly felt very cold, knowing she'd be living here. If she made a run for it, which she undoubtedly would try at least, she would just about freeze her skin off of her bones in the process. And where should she go? This building.. it was the first one she had seen in what seemed like hours. Would she walk until she froze?
What was better, that or this?
With no idea on which indeed was better, she straightened up as the driver of the wagon pulled her door open, and told her to get out. Rolling her eyes a bit, she used her cuffed hands to steady herself as she did so, shivering as snow instantly began to fall onto her face and hair, looking absurd resting in her crimson strands. "What the fuck kind of weather is this, anyway?" she asked, none too pleased. Without answering, the driver grabbed her by her shoulder and steered her toward the building, giving her a little shove to get her moving on her own.
USER INFO:
Your LJ name: pyratesss.
Age: Nineteen~ [well not for another week or so but let us not split hairs, right?]
Gender: Female.
AIM [preferred]/MSN/E-mail: pyratesss/pyratesss@hotmail.com/pyrateamie@gmail.com
CHARACTER INFO:
Name: Diana Cheverie.
Fandom: Rule of Rose.
Age: Twenty-two.
Gender: Female.
Sexuality: Lesbian, though she really just gets off on power over her partner, regardless of gender. Men just tend to fall into the 'customer' category.
Appearance: Diana is a lithe young woman, with long flowing red hair that just reaches around the middle of her back. The hair is slightly wavy around the bottom portions. She always wears it down, never up. She has pale skin, littered with scatterings of freckles [mostly over her cheeks/nose, arms, shoulders, etcetc]. Her eyes are a deep and dark blue, contrasting well with her hair. She is the type who loves to dress elegantly, though that isn't always possible when most of one's wardrobe are either stolen or second-hand. She wears what she can, but she prefers dresses and long skirts, and has since she was a child. Her only truly constant piece of wardrobe is a pair of worn-out looking brown boots that she almost always wears. She also had a green scarf/tie that she wore around her neck, and she was quite angry when it was confiscated from her upon her arrival to Malaise. After all, she /is/ at a danger of strangling others with it and all.
Personality: Manipulative and cruel, Diana isn't likely to be the type of girl that anyone seeks out as a friend or companion. She is cold, calculated, and used to a position of power and control. Even as a child, she was unpleasant and mean spirited, unless she truly respected the person [which, naturally, was rare]. It could be blamed upon her poor upbringing and sad childhood, yes, but that is neither here nor there. She is a girl who knows what she wants, and isn't afraid to use any less than conventional methods to get it, whether it be cruel and unusual torture, or nasty words and backstabbing others. As a girl who was sexualized at a very young age, and dabbled in working the sex trade for a portion of her life, she can be quite seductive when she needs to, though she is mostly straight forward with things, rather than trying to impress others to receive them. The direct route always works better for her. Even though she is rather cold, and acts as if she needs no one, she has always been quite dependent [ironically] upon the dependency of others. All of her life, it seems as if she has had someone who needed her, even if she was nothing but cruel to them, and it is something she revels in; having powers over other people is more than just a little exciting for her, definitely. One would even say she gets off on her power and manipulation of others, though she would never openly admit such things to anybody.
ROLEPLAY:
How Your Character Got to Malaise House:
Born [quite accidentally] to a young prostitute immigrated into London from the streets of France, Diana never knew the love of a family or the embrace of a parent. Her mother only carried Diana to term because she was unable to afford an abortion of the child from her womb. She saw the pregnancy as nothing but a sad accident and a bother that kept her from earning herself enough money to survive. She never had an intention to keep the child, she gave birth in an alley way [with the help of a friend] and only held the infant long enough to name her, and hand her over to the nuns at the nearest local orphanage.
And thus began Diana's existence, an unfortunate accident and problem child, destined to fall into nothing more than a constant downward spiral. Tossed from orphanage to orphanage for the first ten years of her life, Diana was a cold and distant child. She was quite different, always causing trouble, and being difficult to deal with. With a foul mouth and a quick tongue, she was cruel and violent, and often attacked the other children that she lived with, or performed mean tricks on them for her own amusement, and the amusement of the few children she kept as accomplices. In the time in which Diana was a child, mental illness was not particularly something that a lot of doctors believed in diagnosing so readily, so even though she was definitely mentally ill from the beginning of her life, it was never something dealt with during these times. It was something no one cared to look into when dealing with a child with no parents who lived on charity of the state, and was lucky to receive one yearly check up from a physician. Because of her mean disposition and difficult attitude, Diana was never even considered for adoption by visiting potential parents. After only moments within her company, no sane couple looking to adopt would subject themselves to such a troubled youth.
When Diana turned ten years old, that was the year she was transferred to the Red Rose Orphanage in Cardington. She rarely spent more than one year in any particular orphanage, since the caretakers were very eager to get rid of her, however they could. This also put strain on any social skills the girl may have developed, since she was pulled away from 'friends' frequently. However, the Red Rose Orphanage would become one of the only places that Diana would ever consider a true 'home'. Though Diana was often the subject of punishment for her acting out, as well as molestation [and eventually rape] by the orphanage's headmaster, Mr Hoffman, it was still the best home she had ever stumbled into. Besides, she knew other girls were being touched by the headmaster as well, so she could deal.. and at least they didn't give her away so soon either. She easily fell in with a crowd of younger girls there; Eleanor, Wendy, and Meg in particular. With Wendy as their make-shift 'leader', the girls established a sort of club.. the Red Crayon Aristocracy, a pretend hierarchy of royalty, in a game where they pretended to be flying an air ship. The girls took this game very seriously, with initiation rituals and sacrifices. They worked with Wendy as their Princess, Diana as the Duchess, Meg as the Baroness, and Eleanor as the Countess. The other children also played princes and princesses, each with their own nasty nicknames. Even though Diana would have much preferred to run as the leader of the group, she obediently remained in second command, answering only to Wendy, and doing the blonde's bidding willingly and happily, no matter how absurd or cruel the games may have become. Four years later, when Diana was turning about fourteen, another girl joined their ranks; Wendy's new friend, her prince, Jennifer. Through Wendy's wishes, all of the other children were cruel to Jennifer, and so she would have and rely only upon Wendy herself. Whereas the previous new girl, Amanda, had been their scape goat and focus of cruelty, now Jennifer fit into the role. They performed horrible tortures upon Jennifer [killing her puppy being just one of their cruel acts], at Wendy's command. Wendy kept the girls in line with lies, and with threats of the 'Stray Dog' and imps, whom Wendy said would come to the orphanage and kill children who were not obedient. She claimed only she could control Stray Dog, and keep him at bay.
And that was why, when Wendy was pushed from her throne by Jennifer [who temporarily become the new 'Princess' of their aristocracy], Wendy took her lies and threats to the bank and finally fulfilled her own morbid prophecy. Months had passed, and the headmaster had in fact abandoned the orphanage and the children within, and so they were on their own rules while Wendy left, and worked on manipulating a local man, Gregory Wilson. Gregory was quite mentally unstable himself after the death of his only child, and Wendy convinced him to attack the children of Red Rose Orphanage, to punish them. She posed as his son, Joshua, to accomplish this goal, and ultimately succeeded. Jennifer was the only child to leave the massacre unscathed [physically at least], as Gregory took his own life with his pistol on the front lawn of the orphanage.
Three weeks after the incident, Diana awoke in a local hospital. She didn't know about the whereabouts or conditions of the other children, and figured she was the only one left alive. She didn't question it. Within the month, she recovered from a broken leg, some fractured ribs, numerous cuts and bruises, and was shipped off to another orphanage, told she had gotten off easily from the massacre. She lived in that orphanage for the next two years. She was acting out as she always had and causing trouble, and the molestation she had received from her previous headmaster was continued by the next. She was, after all, becoming a woman.. and it wasn't often that such a lovely species of young lady fell into the lap of any old orphanage. When the two years passed, and Diana turned sixteen, she was officially of age, and left the orphanage of her own free will. She had no idea where to go, or what to do. Her plans were non-existent. She considered seeking out her mother [she had choice words for that whore], or perhaps trying to find out who he father was. She doubted it was possible, but.. she had always been mildly curious. Looking further into the massacre at Red Rose did not even cross her mind; in her eyes, that life, and those children [those friends], were dead. Dead to her, and dead to the world. She would never return to Cardington, so long as she lived.
Turning to the only thing she knew, the only talent she had, sex work was the best profession she could find. She tried waitressing for one week, but lost the job after getting into a fist fight with a co-worker that ended in the other woman's nose being broken. No one wanted to hire a sixteen year old girl without experience or education. She excelled at it, and felt no shame, even if it was filthy work, and an unconscious mimic of the mother she would never know. Her work was violent, and she didn't complain; nor did her clients. Rough was how she lived, and how she serviced. She was a traveler, never staying in one place for too long; traveling the country, traveling the continent. Stowing away in boats and trains, sleeping in the streets and in shelters, drinking and smoke, experimenting with whatever she could get her hands on, stealing what she could and manipulating the rest. No matter where she went, she seemed to have a run in with the law, for one reason or another. She was frequently busted for theft, prostitution, assault, and was often forced to flee the city. She was no stranger to changing her name and identity, and to nights, and even weeks, in prison cells. She never managed to have a steady home of her own, or a competent income, during her 'adult' life but it didn't bother her much. She lived it day by day, one at a time.
That was just how life was for her, from the age of sixteen to twenty two. It all seemed like one blur, like she never aged a day, like the hospital and the orphanages had been just an hour prior. At least, until she took things too far. One night, working with a client, things got out of hand with violence and dominance, and before she knew it there was a shattered champagne bottle on the carpet, a knife in his throat and blood over her hands and the hotel bed, and the police were at the door. Her petty theft and other discrepancies were small compared to first degree murder, though it didn't help that they came to light when she was brought to court on the charge. Who was going to believe a hooker, anyway? Her shady upbringing and background, as well as her lifestyle and her tendency to fake identities, did not help. However, when she was placed on trial for the charge, it was a lengthy and controversial case, that ended with her not being held responsible for her actions. Mentally ill, they said. Not stable, clinically insane, not held responsible for reason of said insanity. And rather than cuffs and chains and life behind bars, it was cuffs and chains and life in a padded cell. Off to the nut house, out of the country, away from civilization, a danger to no one, off to snowy Russia, to a place called Malaise House; the best in the business, really great for rehabilitating the ill, like her. It was sure to be a great time. Just another great big orphanage. An orphanage for crazy people, for the retards. Who would the headmaster this time? Would he be gentle? Did he like her to cry during? Sometimes, they liked that. She just hoped they had cigarettes, and a stiff drink.
Symptoms Your Character Experiences (If Any):
Diana shows obvious symptoms of childhood abuse [mostly sexual though some physical and emotional], as well as sadism. She very much likes to make people her bitch, as violently as possible. It's mostly sexual sadism, but it does transfer out of the bedroom frequently. I'll also toss her down for kleptomania, since stealing is basically how she survived and fed herself for the last six years of life or so. She also kind of has mommy issues [good luck getting her to admit that], but that's not really a disorder in itself.
Example Journal Entry:
Once, I read that suffering in silence is a woman's lot. It isn't ladylike to suffer out loud.
To look happy is a show of bad faith, they say. It's a way of letting your sex down.
They say women are born martyrs. Maybe we were even martyrs in the womb?
Fuck it, I say.
Fuck reading, and fuck silence, and fuck martyrs and bullshit metaphors and philosophical shit.
To hell with that, I think. I'm a convict, aren't I? I don't need to think about things that way. I'm conspicuous now, aren't I? How droll.
All I hope is that this piece of shit has a cupboard full of whiskey, and some stupid fucking orderly with an aching crotch and a pocket full of smokes. Amen to that.
Now /that/ is a woman's lot.
Do what you need.
I haven't been this nervous since I wrote to mother. Do you remember that, then? They sent me back a notification that she was dead. She had no address anyway. Just the same as me. Some slut dead on the corner, buried by the country, unmarked grave. group cremation.
That's this whore's fault.. all of it..
What a worthless mother.
I don't have a mother.
Example Post:
She didn't have much of anything to take along with her. When you lived on the streets, and on people's couches, and under the trees in the parks, you didn't really accumulate much that you took along with you. All she had were those boots [sturdy and years old and perfect for kicking ass], a zippo lighter, a couple of outfits, thirty pounds, and half of a package of cigarettes. She didn't even have a birth certificate, no social security numbers, no bank cards. So far as the world was concerned, Diana Cheverie had never graced it's face. Virtually, she didn't exist.
Was that how mother had thought of her? Not existing? Did she think about her, as Diana thought of her right now, in the back of this paddy wagon; her eyes closed, and her face resting against the cool window beside her. What had mother looked like? That same red hair, freckles, pale skin? Were her eyes blue, or was that from the father? Didn't eye color get carried through the dad's chromosomes? Hadn't Meg talked about that once, years ago? They had done a lesson on it. Meg had taught it. Diana hadn't listened. She had humiliated Meg. She threw crumpled papers at her when she turned her back, or lowered her head to read, and the other kids had laughed, and Xavier laughed so hard that he choked on his pastry. Where had he gotten that, anyway? Bloody fat twit.
When the vehicle jostled to a stop, and the engine rolled over, stalling, Diana awoke from her daze. Were they there already? So soon? The windows in there were fogged, and she had to lift a hand to wipe at the closest one, clearing the condensation away so that she could see outside.
Snow, a lot of snow. She had never seen so much snow in her life, really, back in London, or any of the other places she had lived. This was the most snow ever, and she suddenly felt very cold, knowing she'd be living here. If she made a run for it, which she undoubtedly would try at least, she would just about freeze her skin off of her bones in the process. And where should she go? This building.. it was the first one she had seen in what seemed like hours. Would she walk until she froze?
What was better, that or this?
With no idea on which indeed was better, she straightened up as the driver of the wagon pulled her door open, and told her to get out. Rolling her eyes a bit, she used her cuffed hands to steady herself as she did so, shivering as snow instantly began to fall onto her face and hair, looking absurd resting in her crimson strands. "What the fuck kind of weather is this, anyway?" she asked, none too pleased. Without answering, the driver grabbed her by her shoulder and steered her toward the building, giving her a little shove to get her moving on her own.