Post by cadence amy ste julienne on Oct 21, 2012 19:26:40 GMT -5
[/justify]CADENCE AMY SAINTE-JULIENNE
| B A S I C S |
Name Cadence Amy Sainte Julienne
Nicknames Cade
PB Rooney Mara
Age 23
Sex Female
Major Journalism
Minor Production
Occupation Local News reporter
Hometown Detroit, Mich| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
Cadence is young, bright-eyed, fresh-faced and soft spoken. Straight out of college and straight into a well-paying job with the local TV station. Just looking at her, someone would assume of her that she'd had it easy. Truth is, Cadence had clawed and fought for everything she'd ever earned, and she still displays all of that warrior spirit in real life. At times it can be a good thing, but overall her having to tear other people down to bring herself up has given her a slightly oppositional-defiant attitude that gives people who don't know her an impression of grumpiness, although she's really a friendly person. Doing her own thing has just become so important, that simple suggestions have become attacks on her independence.
Other than that, though, Cadence is remarkably tough-skinned. She has no problem with getting weird emails from people who see her on TV, has never had any problem with
bullies in school and adult life, has no worries in her sex life or interaction with people. If it's not what she perceives as a direct threat to her independence, she can easily let things roll off her back. It takes something deeply terrible to get under this secure girl's skin, and even if she's feeling terrible, she can put on an excellent blank face front so that nobody else has to feel bad for her. More than anything, Cadence's main priority is to protect her dignity, and guard her pride from being bruised in any way. She tends to be a very guarded person because of this, and doesn't find it very easy to talk about her feelings. However social and well-adjusted she may be, most people won't ever really get to know Cadence, and she always has trouble speaking to the people she wants to get to know her, never knowing quite what to say.
You will never see Cadence looking any less than her best, and that is a fact. She makes an effort to keep her appearance, her surroundings, and her record, immaculate, on the off-chance that she can move on to become a big network news presenter, which has been her dream since her parents left CNN on for six days straight and broke the channel-changing dial. If any little thing got in the way of her dream, she would be crushed. She makes an effort to appear a perfect person, keeping any of her weird sex things and her smoking habit cooped up firmly in her home, just so that she can be as poised and perfect as Ann Curry. It's a pretty sad facsimile of composure, however, since just about everyone knows that her bad habits outweigh her good, with all the smoking, swearing, drinking and sex she indulges herself in. Still, she should get credit for trying, since she's made several huge investments in business suits and snappy professional outfits.
Talents & Skills: Excellent researcher, well-dressed, played varsity volleyball, debate, cleaning, sketching.
Weaknesses: sharing her feelings, understanding poetry, cannot swim, cannot name all the U.S. states, afraid of flying in planes, obsessively clean.
Likes: Red wine and any kind of shot that comes on fire, windowboxes, meat, jazz, farmer's markets, snuggling, investigative journalism and dangerous situations, stew, donuts, and dogs.
Dislikes: Birds, dreadlocks on white people, marshmallows, embroidery, memories of high school, motorcycles, corduroy, radio news.
| H I S T O R Y |
Detroit, Michigan, was no stranger to children growing up in terrible conditions. It was a poor place with poor, unhappy people, and it was hard to escape. Cadence was birthed in a crowded inner-city hospital ER and named Cadence after the nurse on duty, and took the surname of a local businessman, who was a repeat client of her mom, just so she at least sounded fancy. Cadence never met her father, and never really knew her mother. She was a very poor Belarusian immigrant who sought solace from poverty in heroin. For the most part, Cadence was ignored, except to be occasionally fed and sat in front of the television so she would shut up. To this day, Cadence can't remember the face of her biological mother. She assumes she's probably dead, but doesn't really care enough to track her down.
It's pretty much a miracle that Cadence didn't turn out like most of the kids on her public housing project. It was a teacher at her public school that really turned her on to academia. His name was Mr. Dreer and he was the vilest most terrible most strictest most evilest human being in the whole wide world- or at least he was when you were seven years old and you had to read chapter 4 for homework. For the first time, though, Cadence was scared enough to actually do what somebody told her. Before that point, she hadn't been scared enough to apply herself to anything. But Mr. Dreer gave her nightmares and terrified her into learning. It was around that time when the government caught on to the conditions she was living in, and took her into state custody when she was ten. Not a moment too soon.
Generally, Cadence was a well-mannered kid. She never really talked to anybody, nor did she cause trouble for any of her foster parents, even the terrible ones. Fran and Robert were the ones she ended up staying with for the longest. They were alright, except they were weirdly religious and bought her weirdly modest clothes and made her go to church on Sunday and Church Youth Group every Thursday and say grace every night at dinner, no exceptions. Cadence wasn't really religious, but she wanted these people to keep her, so she did everything they expected of her. Unfortunately, the price for having parents was isolating herself from every existing social group in the school. She was alone and vulnerable, the biggest target for cooler kids to assert their dominance to other cool kids. Middle school was a pretty terrible time for her. She had a couple of friends, but she really only hung out with them out of necessity. She didn't even know their last names. They were also giant dorks, but she was pretty sure their lifestyle was a choice, rather than something they had to do for a family.
The year Cadence started smoking was a big year for her. It was sophomore year of high school, and she thought that a cigarette in one hand would cancel out her chunky brown loafers and baby blue peter pan collar, buttoned all the way up to the top. If anything, it made her look even less cool. At the end of the year, aside from a nicotine addiction, she had gained no more standing among her peers. In fact, she was even more separate from everybody. The massive dorks who had once tolerated her had since abandoned her, since they didn't want to support her addiction. Sophomore year was the year when she finally resigned to being alone for the entire rest of her life, and decided that she didn't have much of a problem with it.
She expected college to be worse than both middle and high school combined, following the general trend of school badness increasing with age. The good thing about being a giant dork in high school was that scholarships were lining up at her door to get her into school. She only had to worry a little bit about student loans getting through school, and nobody really gave her any trouble. Except for her strange roommate Corey, everybody pretty much left her alone, and that was how she liked it. Or, at least she preferred it to mean people speaking to her. It was in college when she found her first 'real' boyfriend, a guy named Kenneth who smoked a lot of dope and said that nobody understood his music. Probably because the lyrics weren't real words. She went with him and his hippie band down to Florida after graduation, a state they insisted was the new California for the music scene. Long story short, it wasn't. But it wasn't like Cadence had anything left in Michigan for her.
Still, she never really learned to like Florida. It was weird, and humid all the time, and there were old people all over the place, all the time. She found a reasonably cool little island, though, with a local news station that she could stand working it. It was a match not made in heaven, but made by settling, and she supposed that was alright.| E X T R A S |
- Allergic to shellfish
- Has terrible handwriting
- Wants to learn to swim, but is too afraid to admit that she can't
| S K I L L S |
(go adrienne)
It wasn't as if Adrienne didn't love culinary school, she did, there were just things she'd rather be doing. things her dads had refused outright. Fixing cars in some ex-convict garage, fixing fighters in the air force... now she was fixing meals for people who could afford them, which was an altogether different thing. There was an altogether different kind of oil on her hands, and the uniform was altogether different, and a little bit lame. She unbuttoned her whites, removing the heavy cotton jacket and throwing it over her shoulder as she walked purposefully into the California sunshine in her t-shirt. Adrienne and her whites didn't get along so well. The jacket suppressed even more what very little curvature her body had, making her look even more like a pubescent altar boy. She would not be seen wearing them outside a restaurant setting, even if it was just to step outside for a cigarette in her break, what she was doing now.
Adrienne stepped into the sunlight, stretching her back and arms and plucked the cigarette she had rolled earlier from where it hid behind her ear, flicked her zippo and enjoyed a deep drag of that smooth American Spirit rolling tobacco. She ran her fingers through her short hair, currently quite scruffy and standing up nearly all the way, the kind of messy that made her look like she didn't care. Which she didn't. Guys she knew spent ages in the morning perfecting the bedhead look. Adrienne had an actual bedhead, and that made her fashionable. Apparently the boyish, disheveled look was back in now, too. All Adrienne had to do was continue cutting her own hair and being mostly homeless and she had nothing to worry about.
She tapped the ash off the end of her cigarette. She had been working all morning with her cassoulet, and although it had been excellent to start with, throughout the day she had improved just about everything. It was peasant food, French beans and weiners, with all kinds of hundreds of ways to prepare it, which didn't mean that it would be easy to learn and easy to prepare, it meant that hers had to be the absolute best out of everybody's. She hadn't tasted anybody else's cassoulet before, but she was fairly confident that she had totally nailed it. Her beans were positively buttery, her stock rich and flavourful although simple, her wine pairing exemplary. No one's cassoulet could even touch Adrienne's cassoulet. No one could even try.
Today she was a hotshot.| P L A Y E R |
Name smokeyy
Age years
Gender female
How you found us beeeeeeeee
Who else do you play?
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