Name: Clementine
Sex: Female
Appearance: Petite but stocky. Long face with light olive skin, tired almond eyes that would hint of some asian/pacific influence if not for the downward slope. Brown hair that's plain and straight, ashy in most lights. She's almost androgynous looking, leaning just slightly more toward feminine, but not enough to be considered pretty. If anything, she's more ethereal-ugly looking, with her silvery-grey eyes and smooth, soft voice. Everything else about her is mediocre. No curves. No athletic muscle tone. Just sturdy, unmemoriable plainness.
Defects:Brain tumor (unknown time of diagnosis, but no immediate danger of fatality)
Player name: Alora
Sample post:
She is looking for something, though she seeks nothing in particular.
Like the natural ebb of low tide, it occasionally pulls at the place behind her ribs, bringing a sliver of her primal self- her id, that stubborn thing, it just won’t quiet down tonight- to the surface to gleam and reflect light like a beacon on the shore. It has never steered a ship in from the storm yet, but she isn’t worried. She has the time to wait.
She goes to the sea and looks out over the water. Maybe it’s a bit literal, but it’s a reminder, this wide expanse that’s so close yet so untouchable. It’s all right there- a thousand mysteries and a thousand histories just below the surface and she could dive from this rocky shore, submerse herself beneath the water for a thousand years; a thing of silver and blue and fluidity she could become if she wished it!; and never be any closer to understanding the sea then she is now. It’s a nice thought; some things in the world are still unobtainable and without control. Her lips quirk pleasantly to the side as she watches the water’s surface, the waves playing a gentle percussion soundtrack to her thoughts.
She doesn’t normally favor the ocean, as a rule. It’s always an option, getting wet, but it’s a state of being she tries to avoid. And swimming is lovely of course, but it reminds her too strongly of drowning, so she never participates in it. (She might have drowned once, but she doesn’t try too hard to remember, what’s the point?) But on evenings like this, where the invisible hook in her breast tugs too hard to be ignored, she ventures seaward and takes root atop the highest bluff that separates land and water she can find. She likes to take in as many colors of the waterscape that she can (dull little thing that she is, she has to get her color fix from somewhere), and it’s easier to do from some level of height.
The beaches turn colder as the sun grows tired and she sympathizes with it, feeling the chill try to take advantage of her exposed limbs. She wraps them around her torso, contemplating whether or not to put up a bigger fight than the fading sun. Her stubborness wins after a moment, (what’s another half hour) and she hunches inward, face to the light, and waits out the end of the day. She can stand the cold a bit longer, here on the edge of worlds, with only the diamond-gleam of the water and the absence of something she cannot name like a shadow beside her for company. She has a healthy appreciation for both defiance and intrigue.
c l e m e n t i n e;
call all your friends,
tell them I'm never coming back
image by ~Moyashiiii@deviantart
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