Post by Grace Lacombe on May 19, 2012 23:02:40 GMT -5
[/font][/color][/b]-- GRACE HENRIETTA LACOMBE
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-- FULL NAME: Grace Henrietta Lacombe.
-- NICKNAMES: Grace-Grace, GiGi, Gracey.
-- AGE: 23.
-- BIRTH PLACE: Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
-- ORIENTATION: Straight.
-- OCCUPATION: Groom.
-- PLAYED BY: Leslie Feist.-- PERSONALITY
-- COMPASSIONATE: Grace has a true link with the horses she works with. Perhaps her best trait as a groom is that she seems to really understand her client's horses to a degree in which the clients sometimes don't have. She rarely has to raise her tone with animals or people to get her point across. She's soft spoken and rarely if ever angry; there's an undying sense of kindness about her that immediately puts a person at ease. A shy sort of innocence around her, aiding to her overall gentle outlook.
-- SHY: Grace finds it very hard to socialize or make friends. Besides work, she spends most of her time either alone, or with her own horse. This makes her seem stuck-up at times, as she doesn't really talk to anyone at the barn. She is excellent at her job, bot not exactly a people person. Even the most unsuspecting of conversations makes her uncomfortable; she is scared of forming relationships and making bonds with people.
-- GENUINE: There is something incredibly real about Grace Just everything about her screams of purity. She isn't two faced, or a liar, or anything of the backstabbing and cheating kind. Now, this isn't to say she's perfect. She makes mistakes often, and doesn't quite know how to deal with people, but she puts her all into both her work and whoever is rare enough to get close to her. She's fragile and doll-like, but there is something about her that is just striking with integrity.
-- LOVES: Ice cream, fast horses, indie music, art, sophisticated fashion, English riding gear and wear, Western riding disciplines, black leather tack, grooming, driving, swimming and learning through firsthand experiences.
-- HATES: Overly cocky men, small horses, loud people, intimidating people, summertime, heat, bad hair days, uneducated people, pop/r&b music, big trucks, and pollution.
-- HISTORY
[/font][/color][/b][/center]Grace was born in the outskirts of Calgary, a large city in the southern region of Alberta. A bubbly baby girl, she was raised by two horse enthusiast parents; it's often joked that she could ride before she knew how to walk. Or at least, the passion was bred into her. She was homeschooled to help her parents run the small horse farm she owned. A shy girl, even as a child Grace kept to herself, most of her friends fellow students she met through her online courses. She never met these people in real life, being too timid to attempt at making friends the usual way. When she was eight, her parents purchased her first show pony for her, a little thing called Buttercup that liked to nip and kick.
Her youth was spent on the backs of various horses and at various events around Alberta. She grew up in the English discipline, but became more attracted to Western style riding as she became a teenager. As she began to hit rodeo circuits in barrel racing competitions, she slowly broke out of her shell. Grace developed a small network of friends; mostly other racers. Her first boyfriend was a strapping young bronc rider by the name of Jake, ripe at the age of sixteen years. They dated for two years, and other than that, Grace never dated anyone else.
Throughout her own childhood, her father's riding career began to take off. Although he was a bit aged for the discipline, he was an excellent instructor, and Grace's best friend. They moved to the United States after Grace graduated from Olds College with a degree in grooming and equine care. She took another course in barn management, but found it too overwhelming, and thus ended up dropping the course. At 20, the family relocated to Montana, not too far form their homeland but far enough to be a little out of place.
Finding the advertisement for Pinewood online, Grace chose to move to the East coast which much hesitation. She'd always been a West coast girl; but the farm seemed like exactly what she was looking for. Upon arriving, she was a bit out of place, people not taking to her well at first. She was quiet and timid, sticking mostly to her job, and not associating with people outside those she directly worked with everyday. Grace still rode like an English rider, and looked quite different from what you'd expect a barrel racing girl to appear as.
Now a couple of years into her job, Grace is settled more, but nonetheless a bit of an outcast. She's trying hard to reconcile her existence, but she just can't mesh fully with those around her; a sweet girl, but hopelessly alienated, until someone breaks down her wall of silence.
-- SAMPLE
[/font][/color][/b][/center]The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he sensed footsteps from afar. He had the uncanny ability of being able to hear anyone's footsteps, on almost any terrain. Heels. He could tell, the slight point second pause as the heel dug into the ground. Also, there was no satisfying thud of full contact. Hoping whoever it was would kindly fuck off, he continued to smoke nonchalantly, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. Hopefully, he or she wouldn't harass him for a cigarette. Most of the ones he had he stole, and they were hard to come by, this far out. Enigma wasn't one to throw his valuables away, even if if they were as trivial as a light up.
Hell, he'd had the same lighter for the past two years. Miracle it lasted this long. He honestly didn't smoke much, not unless he was alone. Cigarettes that is. Drugs were a different issue, definitely a social thing... and by then he was using someone else's lighter anyway. No, he'd been using the same plastic thing with a fading image of a friendly looking scantily clad lady on it. Classy. He often though to sneaking into Battery City and buying some new supplies... He lived off the land for the most part, but he did have a military-style shoulderbag on, containing what weapons and clothing he had. He had a bit of money, but it often meant nothing here, willpower and intimidation better bartering tools than any 'civilized' sort of monetary system.
After these moments of thought, he realized the footsteps had stopped quietly. Okay, so whoever it was wasn't scared of him. He took a slow drag, about to ask what the other person wanted before she spoke for him. She... She? He froze at the mention of his real name. No. Enigma turned on his heel, giving whoever spoke a deadpan face. Maybe it was fear, or anger. One couldn't really tell, but what one could see is that he looked goddamn terrifying. It took him a moment to register who she was. The soft, long hair; softer expression and deep eyes. Ah..
She was there, in a rush of the most silent of sound and emotion, hitting him harder than a train or a slap in the face. He looked dumbfounded for a moment, but he didn't look stupid; much like someone who'd seen a ghost. The definition of her form, her chiseled shape against the bland background seared into his eyes and lit a flame in his mind, a candle he'd assumed had long blown out. He'd left her after explaining he simply couldn't handle her... She needed someone better than him. He'd yelled at her, broke down infront of her, but most of all, he had loved her. A dull ache choked his heart and words, muzzling reason and giving passion free reign. Enigma only murmured her name, before speaking it louder.
"Maryanne?"
The name was a youthful breath on his lips. A montage of memories of their whiplash romance, trust and all that came with it; soft promises that stood nothing against the test of time, mowed down by the scythe of reality. He dropped the cigarette to the ground, driving his heel into it, an ominous action that he hadn't meant with so much force. They hadn't seen eachother for years now, and yet, her memory was a blade to his chest, making him feel hollow, destroyed, mostly regretful. He pushed his shades up onto her forehead, giving her the most sincere of looks, a look that both won her heart and broke it.
"Fancy seeing you here."
-- OOC
[/font][/color][/b][/center]-- NAME OR ALIAS: Anna.
-- AGE: 16.
-- RP EXPERIENCE: 7 years~!
-- THREE WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOU: Peppy, inspired, active.
-- HOW YOU FOUND US: Advertisement.
-- RULEPHRASE: Admin's edit
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