Post by crayola1 on Jun 4, 2010 13:49:50 GMT -5
RAQUELLE ELLANA ATWELL
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→ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ←You may know me as ana from right here, but soon you're gonna know me for my charries. Anastasia, Carmen, Mara, Nicola, Xitlalli, Ketziah, and Raquelle are pretty damn awesome! In fact, they're the CATS pajamas! I've been doing this for 11 out of the 19 years I've been on the planet. If you need to get a hold of me, just drop me a line at my pm box.
→ FULL NAME Raquelle Ellana Atwell
→ NICKNAME Raquelle
→ AGE Eighteen
→ GENDER Female
→ SPECIES Were-raccoon
→ BLOOD TYPE A +
→ OCCUPATION Unemployed
→ PLAY BY Neon Lynxie
→ HAIR She has medium length, dark brown hair that reaches a few inches below her shoulders. The girl hardly ever wears it up, and when she does it’s only because she’s hot. Raquelle really does prefer her hair down, and she normally likes to curl it a little bit, or at least make it so that it has a certain wave to it.
→ EYES Her eyes match her hair fairly well. Except for the fact that they’re so dark that sometimes they look black. They’ve always been like that, and she wishes that they were blue or green or something. Anything but brown.
→ STATS Five foot two and a quarter, one hundred pounds.
→ BODY She is a rather short girl. Not as short as some of the people out there, but she’s not even close to average. Her pale skin reveals just how little she used to get out during the day over the past year, and she in fairly thin for her age—underweight, even—because of how little she was fed—or rather, how little she ate—and the drugs she was on to keep her down. Slowly she’s starting to get more meat on her bones and she’s managed to get the drugs out of her system, but she’s still thin and pale. However, she isn’t a bad looking girl despite her boniness and her buxom frame is a good sign as to why she was in the situation she was in.
→ FEATURES Her nose is pierced and she usually has a small ring through it, but sometimes they might be small studs. She does have any tattoos, but she is often seen with some form of eyeliner or mascara on. There are no tattoos or anything on her body.
→ WARDROBE Raquelle usually wears clothes that shows off her body, but lately she’s retreated into clothes that are form hiding and leaves more to the imagination. Loose t-shirts and jeans, or non-descript dresses if she’s feeling good enough. Her shoes are usually just a pair of tennis shoes or something. A cute pair of airwalks or something. She hardly wears any jewelry other than the occasional bracelet or the nose ring in her nose. She’s been seen with rings before, as well.
→ OTHER FORM Raquelle, though she doesn’t know it yet , is a were-raccoon. Of course, like most raccoons, she has an area of black fur around the eyes which contrasts sharply with the surrounding white face coloring. This is reminiscent of a "bandit's mask." Her slightly rounded ears are also bordered by white fur. The rings on her fluffy tail resemble those of a Ringtail Lemurs. On other parts of the body, the long and stiff guard hairs, which shed moisture, are usually colored in shades of brown. She is actually much darker than the normal raccoon. The dense underfur, which accounts for almost 90% of the coat, insulates against cold weather and is composed of fairly long hair.
→ LIKES
1. Cute animals
2. Coffee
3. Small children
4. Plants and flowers
5. Aquariums
6. Cuddling
7. A warm bed
8. Sunlight
→ DISLIKES
1. Being touched by strangers
2. Big dogs
3. Being yelled at
4. Making people mad at her
5. Not having anything to do
6. Needles
7. Being tied up
8. Pain
→ STRENGTHS
1. Kind-hearted
2. Quiet
3. Easy to please
4. Easily entertained
5. Gentle
6. Well-learned
7. Knows her manners
→ WEAKNESSES
1. Obsequious
2. Easily startled
3. Trusts easily
4. Soft-spoken
5. Unsure of herself
6. Shy
7. Dependant
→ SKILLS
1. Cooking
2. Blending in
3. Fast runner
4. Night vision
→ FEARS
1. Needles
2. Dogs
→ FULL PERSONALITY
Requelle didn’t used to be the way she is today. She used to be a carefree teenager that wanted nothing more than to spend time with her friends and ditch classes and find parties to drink illegally at. She was always popular with the guys and the preppy kids, and she was always the one who hated PE and all sports. However, that is no longer the girl anyone knows. She receded into herself from the pretty, well-dressed clique girl into a shy, quiet, and withdrawn woman. No longer is she the loud party girl she used to be, and no longer does she really have any friends—mostly because she’s found herself in a different city and had been held captive for a year before finally getting herself out of the situation. It wasn’t a good time for her, and her entire personality had a makeover afterwards. She’s an incredibly shy girl now, soft-spoken to the point where she becomes a welcome mat, and she doesn’t much like being with strangers anymore. She’s jumpy and hasn’t felt more alone than she does now.
She has always had a few fears, like her fear of dogs. When she was little she was bitten by one, and since then she’s been terrified of large dog breeds—well, even medium dog breeds. The smaller breeds she tolerates a little more, but Raquelle is still nervous around them. However, her most recent fear was cause from her traumatic experience—needles. Really, anything that looks like it might poke her and her hurt. Pins, buttons, paperclips, even. They all remind her of being injected with several types of drugs and the feelings that they gave her, and she normally has a little panic attack, though she can bring herself out of it most of the time when she thinks about other things, or if there’s someone there to talk to and distract her. What also helps is if something she likes is nearby. She enjoys aquariums and used to have a fish tank at home, as well numerous amounts of plants that she loved taking care of. Mix any of those with a few of her other favorite things and she can calm down easily.
→ MOTHER Chastity Atwell, 40, human, alive.
→ FATHER Konrad Atwell, 45, human, alive.
→ SIBLINGS Jonathon Atwell, 6, human, alive.
→ IMPORTANT PEOPLE None. She is alone now.
→ BIRTHPLACE St. Helena, California
→ FULL HISTORY
Raquelle was a happy little girl. Even the mishap with the dog didn’t dampen her spirits. She had been young and foolish and had just wanted to cute lab. However, she’d startled it and had wound up getting bitten. Her parents didn’t press charges and she only had to get a few stitches, but they scolded her for being so rash. They doted on her though, for the most part. She was a spoiled little girl—though not in the spoiled brat way—and always had friends coming over to play with her and have sleep overs. Little girl things. Like most little kids, she did well in school and her subjects, but she never seemed interested in sports other than the recess games like tetherball and four square—and of course, the ever-famous hopscotch or jump rope. Her teachers had no complaints against her for the majority of her elementary school life, but that was going to change as she got older and started to develop her own beliefs and morals. And, of course, after her little brother Jonathon was born.
Of course, she loved her little brother. He was a cute and chubby child with a soft plume of brown hair on his head, and the jealously thing wasn’t much of a factor because she was twelve when he was born, but she suddenly had a lot more spare time than she had before because her parents had someone else to spend their time on, so she started to hang out with her friends more, and as they got older and into middle school—the stage right before high school—some of her friends split off in other directions and she found herself starting to form new friendships and a new group, and slowly her school work started to slip a little bit. Her parents did a good job of making sure that she did her homework and studied, though when they told her study she normally just went and sat in her room and did anything but study. Homework she would do, studying she would not. Her grades stayed a steady B to C average, and her parents were happy with the scarce As she got, understanding that some subjects were harder than the others.
However, high school started, and her early development earned her popularity with the jocks of her grade and even grades higher up. She formed friendships with the popular clique, and her grades slipped even further. Raquelle didn’t start ditching her classes until her sophomore year, though, when she wasn’t under such scrutiny from the teachers. They had to deal with the new freshmen coming in, so the people in her grades and the ones above were left to their own devices, deemed “mature” enough to make their own decisions. However, some classes she really didn’t feel like going to, so she would ditch and go hang out with her friends that also didn’t go to their class or just had an off period by chance. She hadn’t ever really experimented with drugs, but she had tried smoking, but found it much to her distaste and fell back on just drinking during parties when there happened to be one. She had a whole slew of boyfriends—much to her father’s distaste—and it was the cause of many arguments, especially when she happened to bring home a guy a couple grades older than her. It was all regular teenager things, and her parents didn’t think much of it except that soon she would get out of this rebellious phase.
And for the most part, she calmed down a little more her junior year. In school she was still getting sub-par grades, but she stayed out of trouble for the most part, except for when she wore something that wasn’t code. Normally no one complained, but occasionally a stuck-up teacher would tell her to wear a jacket or find some jeans or pants to wear. She never did—maybe the jacket, but she always took it off after the teacher was gone—but no one ever complained afterwards. Her junior year, for spring break, she had planned a trip to Germany with a couple of her friends, since they were taking German, mostly because everyone took Spanish and Raquelle had a little bit of a German ancestry, her father being named “Kondrad” for that same reason. It was one of the classes she had actually tried in, though she wasn’t very good at the tests, she managed to find a way to speak the language fairly well, though she was better at reading and writing it than she was speaking it and being spoken to. She hoped the trip would Germany would help her with that.
The entire class was going to go for spring break, and she’d even managed to get a job to help fund the trip for herself. Her parents of course helped a little bit, and she earned the money to go with some hefty saving and through the fundraisers that the teacher provided for them. She was a good little salesman, and most of the money she got at her job—she worked at Best Buy at the time—was from the extra sales she made and a raise after selling a little more than everyone else. Raquelle insisted that it was just a fluke, and it was mostly because she begged and bullied for tons of hours working on the floor instead of the cash register—which she could never really figure out fully—but she raised the funds and was on her way to Germany. She had two of her girl friends in her class, and they had both just had to ask their parents and they forked over the money for it with little hesitation. Raquelle felt better about being able to raise her money to go, though, and she was excited for the trip.
Naturally they were given guidelines. The drinking age was lower there and her parents agreed that she could drink while she was there so long as it was with a group of people and the teacher and other chaperones were there to supervise, and she begrudgingly agreed, knowing they wouldn’t be there, and what they didn’t know wouldn’t get her in trouble. So, a day or two into the trip, she and her friends snuck out of the hotel to find a place to go drink. Raquelle was the only one out of the group of three that knew the most German, so she ordered for them and they flirted with some German guys there, and they had pretty good English skills for the most part. They seemed impressed when the girls showed how much German they knew, and a couple of them asked if they’d like to go to somewhere else with them, less loud and with more privacy. The inebriated girls accepted, telling the boys that they just needed to be back to their hotel before daybreak, so they could sneak back in and make sure their group wasn’t the wiser.
So, the three girls left with the guys. However, that was their mistake. Had they not had alcohol in their system, mucking up their better judgment, they might have just gone back to their hotel. They would have returned and woke up the next day with nothing more but bad hangovers and less sleep than they needed. Alas, that was not the case and the three girls had made the worse mistake they could, and it was a mistake they would never be able to amend. The boys had their own car, and the girls piled into the back with two of the guys in front and one in the back. Raquelle was the smallest of the group, so she was volunteered—or forced, however you want to look at it—to sit on his lap. She might have been more embarrassed had she not been so drunk. The girl friends didn’t know where they were going, just that they were with some cute foreign guys and were possibly headed to some hot and heavy messing around. However, they started to feel the effects of the drinks the three boys had bought for them. Everything was getting blurry and none of them felt well. Before they knew it, they were all passed out, their drinks spiked with roofies.
When Raquelle woke up, she was strapped down to a bed and none of her friends were there. She had a splitting headache and it hurt to open her eyes. Or swallow. The first thing she did was to twist her body as far as it could go and throw up over the edge of the bed. It made her feel a little better, but the headache remained and she couldn’t for the life of her recall what she had done the night before after leaving the hotel with her friends. Once her headache subsided, she started to yell for someone, anyone, to tell her where she was. Someone came, but they simply shoved a needle in her arm and then left. The contents made her mind fuzzy, and the room started to spin, making her nauseous again. She was left in that room for a couple days, and then finally she was retrieved by someone, cleaned up, and dressed in new clothes before being shipped out with a bunch of other girls. Raquelle was lucid now, but the drugs in her system was still messing her brain function, but it was enough that she was starting to ask some questions. No one else talked to her really, and she hoped that her friends were okay.
However, they weren’t. One was in the same situation as her on the other side of the country, and the other had unfortunately overdosed and had been dumped in a river somewhere in Paris. For the first week Raquelle held on to the hope that her parents, her school, the police—someone—was looking for her and would find her. However, the days started to blend with each other and she was conditioned for something. . . being poked and prodded and examined by many different people before she ended up in a dark room with bright lights washing over her like sinister spotlights and she heard a voice over an intercom announcing her statistics, and she simply hung her head and turned as she had been instructed to—slowly, and in a complete 360 so that all of the possible buyers could see her. She was being bided on, and she knew it. It didn’t take long for someone to buy her, and then she was ushered out to wait with a couple other girls the patron had purchased. By now she was completely hopeless and doing just what she was told to avoid the disciplinary beatings she had received when she failed to cooperate.
She stayed with that man for six months before he sold her to someone else, and she was deflowered again and again, educated on how to please a man—and sometimes women—and was taught a few other things that a slave should know how to do. Cooking, cleaning, obedience. Raquelle was nearly brainwashed, but in the back of her head, she wanted nothing more than to get out and return home. She was so drugged up most of the time—it made her more compliant and pliable—that she didn’t even know what country she was in, or even how long she had been away from home. Were they still looking for her, or had they given up on her and her friends? What did they say at school, and had anyone been sued for negligence? Raquelle didn’t know, and she never really would. Would her parents assume she was dead and move on? The days turned to weeks and the week into months, and then finally a year wore by when she came to her final master—one that wasn’t human. He—like all the rest—treated her as his slave and had his way with her in every sense of the term, but one night in the throes of passion, he wound up digging his teeth in her.
It awoken something in her, and without her knowing, she was changed into something. . . more than human. The change—though she didn’t know about it or even what her master was—was enough to dispel the haze of constant drugging and in a few months, the effects were nearly gone. Her master was out, and she seized the opportunity to escape. He hadn’t known what he had done to her, as the changes hadn’t full taken into affect yet. She broke her bindings, suddenly very scared and panicked, and bust herself out of the prison the man called a home. She stole some of the clothes he had for her, picking out the less conspicuous outfits she used mostly when she was cleaning and he wasn’t getting some sort of sick thrill out of it, and she found herself in Spain. Had she really never left Europe? Terrified that she would be found again, she stowed away on a freighter that was shipping out, and in a few weeks, she found herself in New York City, alone and lost and scared. There was no way she could face her family after all she had been through, and she didn’t even know if they lived in the same place, let alone had the same number. Lacking resources, she just wandered New York, looking for places to stay.
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Just another of my characters.
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