Post by christian on Sept 23, 2015 15:13:58 GMT -8
Violet! Sweet Violet!
Thine eyes are full of tears;
Are they wet
Even yet
With the thought of other years?
Full Name: Violet Jane Sterling
Goes By: Violet, V
Date of Birth: October 29th, Twenty-Five
Occupation: Curator at the V&A
Family: Poppy Sterling-Vox (Mother, Living), Andrew Vox (Father, Living)
Likes: Lemon Cakes, High Tea, Coffee right before bed, Baking, Art History, Architecture, Reading by the fire, Cats, Lions, Silver, Stormy Nights, Winter Months, Game of Thrones, XBox 360, Tattoos, Pale Skin, Dark Clothes, Political Sciences, Gardening, The smell of rain, The Ocean, Traveling, Long Car Rides, Flying, Spiders, Archery, Disney Movies, Herbal Medicine, Potions, Ancient Art, Museums
Dislikes: Small Dogs, Hot Summer Days, Long Summers, Swimming Pools, Burning Food, Popcorn, Movie Theaters, Tourists, Gold Jewelry, Vanilla, Romance Movies and Novels, Comedy Clubs, Overly sensitive people, Overly fancy restaurants, Scotch
Chances are a blissful thing, Violet always considered herself a chance. A chance to do something good, become someone big or maybe a chance for her mother to relive some sort of childhood dream.
A girl born after a boy is a good thing, boy’s grow up to take on their father’s name, their father’s legacy, their father’s blah blah blah. Girls, now little girls are born to be the apple of father’s eye and a small version of their mother. What a joke right? Violet was never one to believe in such petty little retro ideas. She was her chance and her chance alone.
The hallways were always littered with big frames of gold and silver and instead of setting with a book in a library somewhere she danced along those halls instead. Falling into the fast brush strokes of Monet and posing like the ballerinas Degas seemed to love so much. Art, like the craft, was something to be revered, to be held in delicate hands and to be shown to the world.
Too bad some people didn’t see it that way.
Like a masterpiece forgotten the hint of dark that sparked in her veins was tucked away. Away from the world in fear of ruin, in fear that the hands of the devil would grasp onto her and not let go. This was not merely the case with poor Violet, wilted little girl, but for hundreds, thousands and millions who were touched with a gift best left in the shadows.
Just as fast as she studied art, devouring the things she read in old yellowed pages, getting lost in swirls of paint and curved of marble, she studied the things those before her had to offer. From mother’s spellbooks to grandma’s potions to the furthest reaching branches of her bloodline Violet Sterling demanded to be taught. And on her own she learned as well and on her own she sought out to show a bit of herself to world around.
Face: Alice Kelson
Screen Name: in coffins
Webpage: you're turning violet, violet!
Goes By: Violet, V
Date of Birth: October 29th, Twenty-Five
Occupation: Curator at the V&A
Family: Poppy Sterling-Vox (Mother, Living), Andrew Vox (Father, Living)
Likes: Lemon Cakes, High Tea, Coffee right before bed, Baking, Art History, Architecture, Reading by the fire, Cats, Lions, Silver, Stormy Nights, Winter Months, Game of Thrones, XBox 360, Tattoos, Pale Skin, Dark Clothes, Political Sciences, Gardening, The smell of rain, The Ocean, Traveling, Long Car Rides, Flying, Spiders, Archery, Disney Movies, Herbal Medicine, Potions, Ancient Art, Museums
Dislikes: Small Dogs, Hot Summer Days, Long Summers, Swimming Pools, Burning Food, Popcorn, Movie Theaters, Tourists, Gold Jewelry, Vanilla, Romance Movies and Novels, Comedy Clubs, Overly sensitive people, Overly fancy restaurants, Scotch
Chances are a blissful thing, Violet always considered herself a chance. A chance to do something good, become someone big or maybe a chance for her mother to relive some sort of childhood dream.
A girl born after a boy is a good thing, boy’s grow up to take on their father’s name, their father’s legacy, their father’s blah blah blah. Girls, now little girls are born to be the apple of father’s eye and a small version of their mother. What a joke right? Violet was never one to believe in such petty little retro ideas. She was her chance and her chance alone.
The hallways were always littered with big frames of gold and silver and instead of setting with a book in a library somewhere she danced along those halls instead. Falling into the fast brush strokes of Monet and posing like the ballerinas Degas seemed to love so much. Art, like the craft, was something to be revered, to be held in delicate hands and to be shown to the world.
Too bad some people didn’t see it that way.
Like a masterpiece forgotten the hint of dark that sparked in her veins was tucked away. Away from the world in fear of ruin, in fear that the hands of the devil would grasp onto her and not let go. This was not merely the case with poor Violet, wilted little girl, but for hundreds, thousands and millions who were touched with a gift best left in the shadows.
Just as fast as she studied art, devouring the things she read in old yellowed pages, getting lost in swirls of paint and curved of marble, she studied the things those before her had to offer. From mother’s spellbooks to grandma’s potions to the furthest reaching branches of her bloodline Violet Sterling demanded to be taught. And on her own she learned as well and on her own she sought out to show a bit of herself to world around.
Face: Alice Kelson
Screen Name: in coffins
Webpage: you're turning violet, violet!