I know that we’ve been absent for a while, but you know how life is. We have a family which comes before anything else. If you are having life issues, or you can’t find muse, please just inform us that you either have to go on hiatus, or want to leave. We won’t judge you for it. Not once. But if Aevum is going to hibernate for a little while, we’d like to plan for it rather than just have it happen. Those of you who would like to keep your characters, but might be too busy to post all of the time, please send us in a message so that we know you’re still willing to stick around.
Did the Astrid anon submit an application with her face already? I wrote an application up days ago but didn't have the chance to submit it/
She hasn’t, no.
So you won't accept minors in this RP?
We don’t ask for an age on the application.
On a scale of 1-10, how active are you guys?
That depends. We’re a very slowly active group, there’s not huge amounts of constant gif conversations, but everyone is dedicated to the roleplay. It’s slow at times, others it’s lightening fast I can’t rank it. It’s been a bit slow lately, but everyone is a little busy. We’re all still here and anxious to write, though.
How many people do you currently have taken? How many girls and how many boys?
I’m surprised you missed it. That information is provided on the face claim list, just at the top of it. We tried to make it easy to find.
Declan Kelliher | Twelve | Carnival Kid | Native | N/A | Max Records
A screaming woman could have been heard in the distance of the back of a circus tent, but nobody seemed to come, or care, for nobody came to aid the welcoming of a new child to life. The lack of colour form the sky made it evident that it was about to rain, however. The woman was worried, her spine hurt from the position she had been in for about an hour now. The boy was near, her hips burned under the belly, she could feel herself using her last shot of energy left to keep herself awake only for a few more minutes. It had been futile, however, for when the boy had finally made it out and she had cradled him in her arms, she had closed her eyes forever. Bathing in blood and raid, the boy had been left screaming at his mother’s chest, purple hands and a dirty viaduct ready to choke the life out of him. It was a miracle it did not give in, but then again, it was luck that someone had happened to hear the baby cry and have enough heart to bring the child of a gypsy back in a tent.
The boy never knew his exact place of birth. He had thought it had been on Ohio, but others would have told him San Francisco, and yet others would name him a true New York boy. In reality, he didn’t really care where he came from or how her mother was. Maybe he felt some sort of regret for not having been there, or for being the one to end with her life. It was probably out of guilt, but one he would never want to face. He’s a child, he would prefer causing or running away from problems rather than facing them. He was a native from the carnival, and that’s how it would stay forever. He knew as much as they would teach him, as much as would like to be taught, to be honest. The matter of the fact was that he only wanted to run around the carnival, turning lights on and off as he went, cause a little chaos just to get a kick of it. He’d met several other kids that came into the carnival and didn’t understand how they would be so boring. What was nap time anyway? He never understood why kids should stay indoors at night.
He can be seen around the carnival with his best friend, his brother, his partner in crime, “O” the monkey. O and him would run around the trailers and tents, trying to find new adventures to join and new people to meet. More than once, though, Declan would use O’s skills to charm the kids that walked past them, making them stop on their tracks and stare at how wicked his monkey danced for them. Of course, the only price there was to pay for having such a spectacle would be, well, nothing more and nothing less than money! That and whatever O managed to steal from the parents when they weren’t looking. They had their own small treasure chest in one of the trailers, in fact, they had almost an entire world inside that box and nobody was allowed to lurk in it. If you asked why, he would just purse his lips and, after a while just snap in a small voice, “It’s special,” making it very clear he would not discuss the subject anymore.
Georgette ‘Gigi’ Valois | Twenty Five | Burlesque act ‘The French Rose’ | French | Fluid | Scarlett Johansson
Her parents must have loved each other at some point. Or that’s what she attempted to convince herself as a small child. In truth, Georgette never knew her father, and her memories of her mother were completely vague, as the woman had run off by the time she was seven. Leaving the young child with her thin lipped, prudish aunt, Vivian. Vivian was a hard woman, who had never married, nor had any children of her own. The woman had, in Georgette’s opinion, very old fashioned ideals. She discouraged Gigi from excess grooming, and saw it as vain and inappropriate. Georgette never shared such beliefs, but fought it wise to be respectful to her aunt. When she was twelve, Georgette was sent to a convent school in Paris, where she was taught to be ashamed of her beauty and femineity. Told they were a curse, and the work of the devil. Despite her efforts to conceal herself, as she grew older, Georgette caught the attention of one of the male caretakers. His interest in her was, for the most part, unnerving for Gigi. She’d smile politely, but never engage him more than that. That didn’t seem sufficient for the caretaker, and one afternoon he cornered the girl in the deserted yard as she was crossing from the chapel. Her attempts to evade him were of no use, as his stature was far greater than her own petite form. The man forced himself upon the sixteen year old,. Only stopping when the cries of the violation were heard by a couple of passing sisters.
Gigi had thought her salvation had come. She had been wrong. Of course, the caretaker had stopped and fled, but when the situation had become clear to the nuns, one of them slapped Georgette hard across the cheek. Calling her dirty and sinful. Saying that it had been her fault. No matter how hard she tried to explain herself, the sisters wouldn’t have it, and Georgette was turned out. Too ashamed to face her aunt, Georgette was left with not much of a choice. Finding herself at a youth hostel, Georgette was allowed to stay for a few months until she found a job. Instead, she found Eva. Eva had been the most exquisite creature Gigi had ever seen. Full figure, full red lips, and eyes that seemed to stare right through you. From the start, she had been enthralled by the older woman. Eva must have shared the adoration, because she offered her house to Gigi, let her into her life, and into her world. The first time Eva took the seventeen year old to the Burlesque club, the doe eyed young girl had fallen in love with it. The woman on stage was beautiful. Dressed as a pinup from the forties. By eighteen, Gigi had formed her own burlesque act. By nineteen, she had fallen into a sexual relationship with Eva. By twenty, her heart had been broken by the woman, and she found herself accepting the offer of a frequent patron of her act to accompany him to America as his paid companion. While she loved the attention, and the lavish lifestyle, six months into the arrangement, Gigi was bored. Wanting to get out of the lonely house (the man on a business trip he hadn’t wanted her on), Georgette had, on a whim, visited the Carnival Aevum. Completely taken with the world of stage, yet stunning beauty, she had decided then and their that when they left town, she would be with them. With nothing but a note for her ‘companion’ to return to.
Ask for a summation of Gigi’s personality, and almost everyone you ask will answer you differently. Some people will say she’s a light hearted tease. Others will suggest she’s a sultry temptress who can see into your soul. Yet others still say she’s a passionate and poetic person. There is always a common denominator, though. Sensuality always comes into it. Truth be told, it’s her weapon. She reads people well, is able to define your desires and play them out for you. She’d be one hell of a prostitute, if she had the inkling. Always the actress, pinning down the exact qualities that are true, and what is an act, is hard. She spent a good deal of her life trying to be what others wanted her to be, and maybe it’s a twisted revenge, but now she takes some delight in presenting herself as exactly the very thing someone wants, and giving them enough of a taste to always be craving it. She’s elusive, and keeps a lot to herself. She keeps those around her at an arms length, for fear letting someone in would be having to admit that while she can wax poetic about how this new life is liberating, the only thing really flying free in her life are her breasts. While making an effort to prove she’s not ashamed of herself as a sexual being, she can’t help but to be reminded of her sin and the assumption that her sensuality is all of her worth.