|
Name: Shalom L. Seraphim.
Birthday: September 20
Age: 20-something
Birthplace and Residence: Chicago, Ill. and N/A.
Astrological Sign: Virgo
Nationality: Fourth Generation Israeli American.
Ethnicity: Above means a Jew by race, not necessarily by religion.
Blood Type: O
Favorite color: Right now? Grass Green.
Hobbies: Reading, shopping, art, art, art.
Favorite food: Pat Thai.
Least favorite food: Artichokes
Favorite Gem Stone: Fire opal
Favorite work of art: Van Gough's Pavement Café at Night, for the moment.
Has trouble with: Not seeming like a bitch?
Strong points: Listening and problem solving.
Dream: To be a traveling artist.
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 130 lb.
Status: Single, to my family's disapproval, why do you think I was allowed to go to college? There are potential husbands.
Family: Mother, Father, two brothers, Grandpa, many aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Occupation: Artist/Art student concentration in Jewelry and of course some business thrown in for good measure. Work
for my family sometimes, too.
"Normal" RP Sample:
The studio was lit mainly by the two windows that were open to the campus,
that mid day light on a Sunday gave her a lazy feeling of days she had nothing to do but veg when she was in high school.
The floor was paint splattered, not just by her, but everyone who had ever had this studio. She was seated on an old gray
metal stool with a purple cushion duct taped on, before her was the matching easel with a blank canvas resting menacingly
on it.
To Shalom's left, yes, Shalom was left handed, imagine that, was a cart with her items on it; a glass slab with
some paint squeezed onto it, a brush or two, paper towels, baby food jars of turpentine, a box full of paint tubes and a pitcher
of water, two glasses. Her bare right foot was lifted to press against the bar of the stool, slender stems clad in very worn
and frayed denim, paint here, burn marks there. Hugging her torso was a black Hanes' T-Shirt, over it a similarly worn standard
issue blue work apron, pockets at the lap area with odds and ends in it, pencils, the like.
She'd press a bare elbow
to her knee, slim fingers splayed as she rested her chin in the palm. Lamp like tanzanite hues would be rolling to gaze out
the window, her subject just that, the world outside that single window. Framed in the veil of heavy lashes they'd lower to
the hues on her cart, plump pale pink lips would fall into a pout, which wasn't a bad look for her. Sitting up now, the hand
at her chin would lift to slide into her heavy mass of inky black hair, free hand coming to help twist the thick strands into
a haphazard bun, a clean paintbrush or two sliding in to secure the hair in place, for whatever good it might do. Right. This
was due in 10 hours. Heaving a light sigh, on she painted.:
"ABNORMAL" RP Sample:
Graduation raced by, those robes of black and hats so square there were no puns that would fit in them. Her family’s
kisses and hugs, spitting and blessing, cursing anyone who would mess with their “little Shalom.” Green hard plastic
and metal luggage bags packed, a leather messenger bag over her shoulder, inside a small safe, and in her pocket her tickets
and insurance. The roar of the engine, the squeal of the wheels as they took off to paradise.
Hours passes, bottles did too, and her and her “neighbor” were thumb wrestling for the next round. He couldn’t
believe his luck, the Neighbor, his large clumsy hand wrapped with that of a very attractive girl’s. Her skin fairly
tanned, genetics he supposed, because the sun never gave that even of tone, freckles across her nose, lips so pouty and pink,
curled in a Cheshire grin as the girl attempted to cheat. Her eyes were odd, tanzanite one moment, onyx, then chocolate the
next, he supposed Hazel would be the best title for them, those eyes that flashed with her mood or the color of the eye shadow.
And all of that hair, nothing could rival those heavy jetty strands around her slim waist, T-shirt hugging breasts that he’d
rather be gripping tightly to instead of her fingers. He let her win just to see her bounce in her seat, was she wearing a
bra?
Generally, Shalom wasn’t bouncy, in fact she was usually very impassive, but she had quite a few in her. Neighbor asked
why she was going to the Island? Simple enough question, vacation from all of that hard work, perhaps to find premises with
the hotel or some shop to sell her jewelry was the second agenda. She’d lift her hands to her throat and pull out a
silvery chain that brought down to a silver charm, a slender snake eating it’s own tail, etchings on it giving the presence
of the snake being striped and in it’s eyes two tiny topaz stones. From a distance, a simple ring, though up close,
and Neighbor had gotten very close when she’d flashed her snake, to clearly see it.
Second question, Can I get your number? Ha. She’d push a hand with neat nails, that wouldn’t last, into her hair,
flipping naughty strands from her multi-hued orbs behind her. She didn’t have a number; she wasn’t in the hotel
yet.
A name? Oculars would slither their drunken way over him… not terrible looking, a bit more office then rock, a little
pink tongue sneaking out to roll over her bottom lip in thought. Shalom Seraphim.
|
