Desirae La Roux

[desi]

Basics

Name: Desirae Jean La Roux

Nicknames: Des, Desi, Roux

Age: Sixteen

Birthday: December twenty-fourth

Grade: Tenth

Power: Sound Manipulation and astral vision

Member Group: Neutral

Canon or not: Not

Appearance: Short lemon blond hair frames her face in a draped fashion, ending at two even points that extend past her chin. Pale complected, rarely-tanned skin covers her body, void of noticeable freckles but peppered with aged and faded scars upon her limbs and torso where laceration marks seem most prevalent, rivaled for the spot only by deep indent-like healed over bite marks. These scars blend nicely with her complexion, primarily becoming apparent when people actually touch her skin or have a reason to examine her closely. More notably, she has brilliantly purple eyes that dance with emotion when the teen appears to be at her calmest. Seeming to radiate a light all their own, the word 'dull' would not typically describe her eyes.

Desi's expression might seem unremarkable. Set with firm pursed lips and relaxed features, perhaps even with a palm against her cheek, is often how you'll see her since she arrived at Ashford. Before then, she was more animated, laughing or locked in a heated argument, with her body moving fluidly with the words and expressions she relied on to convey her point.

Personality

Likes:

Dislikes:

Fears:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Goals:

Overall Personality: The only time Desirae doesn't feel like she's dreaming is when she's asleep. So, one might forgive her for seeming a bit reflective, or even at times unresponsive. She might mumble her response, or avoid looking at you, or even just watch you quietly for a few seconds as the thoughts spin in her mind, analyzing you at warp speed. Once she does speak, she's a generally polite and kind individual. She is fiercely, but often secretly, passionate in nature, at times coming off somewhat concise and distinctly driven as she answers your questions or talks with you. Once you do get to know her, it's hard to imagine her holding anything back, but before that, she can often seem a bit, well, guarded, hiding her affectionate I-Love-Everything personality behind a mask of quiet contentment. She also keeps other emotions, such as anger and confusion bottled up, both of which can lead to resentment or disinterest in people.

Desirae knows the world is a scary place. However, she's the last person that would tell you so directly. She's the first one to tell you about a documentary on animal cruelty or the impact something has on the environment, or a million other little facts, but she never wants to tell you about the dangers in the world that only she can see because of her astral vision. She's brave and protective, though at times her behavior may seem erratic as she stares off into the distance in the middle of a conversation, or gives an intent look over your shoulder when you ask a question. For the sake of everyone's sanity, one might be glad to know that these episodes of 'erratic' or 'unpredictable' behavior are uncommon in general. Typically they happen most in secluded or quiet places, while in crowds they rarely if ever occur. Likewise, in locked rooms she rarely gets distracted, and when she feels comfortable and safe around a person, she finds it easier to give them undivided attention when they want it. When relaxing, she... well, relaxing is something she isn't known for.

Being so easily distracted otherwise is one of her most troubling faults. Coupled with her inability to cook, well... It's best to ban the teen from cooking or really anything that can get warm and cause burns or fires. Other faults include how guarded and independent she is, and how secretive she is, as if the world is hers and hers alone to bear. She is quick to anger when she feels threatened and she's even quicker to push people away when they question her or her ability. She is ready to run, always. Ready to bear the emotional stress of isolation to save herself from feeling the hurt of rejection later on. Love seems scary, and crushes rarely amount to anything more than doodles in her notebook. Yet the teen girl wishes for nothing more than someone to believe in her, to not call her crazy, and to promise not to get scared if she's truly honest. Desirae La Roux, more than anything, wants someone to know she isn't lying.

History

Family Members/guardians: Destiny Renee Gene [Primary teacher] and Jacques Pierre La Roux [Government agent]

History:
Desirae has a very, painfully accurate account of her life. All completed on a type writer, page after page all bound with a silver spiral, her life lays in ink as the original copy of what government officials already have. If one were to flip to the first page, they would read:

December 24^th, 1996: Six pounds, six ounces. Exactly fifty-two hours ahead of schedule. Loud cry. Violet tinted scleras. The proper authorities were called to handle the issue. Paperwork was filed. I was transferred to the Ashford project to better monitor the situation.

December 10^th, 1997: Nearly one year old. Eye color has darkened to a deep purple. Hair color appears genetically appropriate to the family. Skin complexion is a very slight lavender color upon direct exposure and contact to ice or snow.

December 24^th, 1997: Her birthday has arrived. Officially a year old. She scares easily, wakes often in the night, and seems very disinterested in the festivities of her birthday party.

October 3^rd, 1999: She has begun to take an interest in drawing, favoring the color blue. Enclosed are a few of her illustrations.

Four pages of scribbled on paper are attached, each dated down to the minute of their completion. One vaguely appears to be a flower, otherwise the white pages are caked with crayon wax that has begun to flake with age.

But those aren't her favorite. Her favorite pages are farther in, when her father seems to have no choice but to reveal his investment in her life. Times when he really worried, not for the project, but for his daughter instead.

April 6^th, 2001: Her fever has reached a hundred and three. Ice has done nothing to bring it down, and neither has Tylenol or Ibuprofen. We have exceeded the dosage for two doses in a row with no results. Her cheeks are bright red, the way they always present when she has a high fever, and her demeanor is subdued. Procedure of seeking medical attention may be ignored if her fever doesn't break by morning.

I remember the hospital... I remember laying in a whitewashed room with the whirling machinery. It's like in the movies; the machines really do make mean noises, and the IV really does make an incessant drip, drip, drip. Before it drips though, there's a sound of water swelling, like a wave, but fainter. Like... sound crescendos, then there's this silence where sound tapers off and all that's left is the mass defying gravity, and then, the fall. With a woosh, it falls through the air and crashes with a boom against the rest of the IV fluid. Then again, when I caught pneumonia and ran a fever, that was the first time I remember hearing the sounds... It was the first sign of sound manipulation, though I didn't know it at the time. It took another ten months and three days before the first documented 'proof' of my ability.

February 9^th, 2002: I lost her. For forty-three minutes, Desirae was just gone. Amidst carnival goers and the flashing lights of the games and rides, she'd seemed so overwhelmed. I told her to relax, I turned my back to order her a plate of nachos, and, just like that, she'd completely disappeared. When I caught sight of her next she was running across water. Not over a bridge or on land, but literally across the water, sending the water up around her feet in such a way that ensured no water touched her. Like a field existed around her foot that acted like a barrier. I have alerted Ashford officials.

I spent time in a small dorm in some government facility hidden within the U.S.. I was there for a very long time... It was there that I began seeing things. Scary things. They kept me longer and put me into counseling- I learned English and gained an understanding of the power of the 'Ashford Project', that project my father had become a part of because of me. I was eight before I was allowed to live with my parents again in France.

Behind the Character

Name: Decimus the Remarkable and Amazing Tenth!
... But Decimus will do.

RP Experience: It all started one September morning...

How did you find us: Foxxy

RP Sample: Grimacing faces accompanied contorted bodies of the three foot tall creatures who growled and salivated over the forlorn owlet laying in the shade of the courtyard's large oak tree. With their grungy, yellow crusted claws and their beady black eyes, they looked more scrappy and minion-like in nature, leaving the impression that they may not be particularly aggressive of their own accord. But in spite of appearances, their claws bit into flesh with savage, ragged edged fury. And their teeth, barely visible between their cracked lips as the harsh growl was issued into the air, were serrated-looking canine teeth that did not lock together but fit as rows with both reaching the opposite inky black gum lining when their jaws clenched tight.

Desirae knelt in the grass, her knee digging into one of the towering oak's above-ground roots. Her hands formed a small cradle, her fingers pressed firmly together as they drew near and made contact with the impossibly soft plumage of the baby owl. The tree it appeared to have occupied, based on proximity, seemed like an unlikely home so far from the dark and secluded cover that the depths of the island's forest could offer. But the haunting 'who, who, who' just outside her window now had a viable culprit.

The infant bird felt delicate and forbidden in her palm as she drew it toward her chest to observe and shield the injured animal from the nearby threatening creatures. The sun illuminated the courtyard enough that she was able to see the distorted wing of the fluffy brown and grey featured elf owl jutting at an awkward angle from it's torso. To onlookers, Desirae was a lone figure on her knees beside a tree with a pensive expression aimed at her own hands. Dressed in Ashford's familiar uniform with lavender tinted eyes and lemon kissed hair that seemed to brilliantly capture, then radiate all the light the sun cast in her direction, she was both obscure and memorable in that moment, a part of a bigger flow of people rushing, talking, flirting, hiding, and still, she was trapped in her own moment in time with the wounded owlet and her patience to help.

[Headmistress Kayla]

beautiful, accepted!