* EDIT: Top 3 Choices:
1. Adrienne Jade
2. Freddie Jonsson
3. Elly Swanze *
saw this new roleplay called the underground (http://www.polyvore.com/underground/group.show?id=109220) & it looks really cool to me.
i especially related to the character Adrienne Jade and i couldn't get her out of my head.
so, here's my try-out set for her.
Adrienne is rock and roll. She brings the bands down to the station, hangs out on the track smoking ciagarettes. She loves the darkness of the underground, living off the radar. She's a funny girl who likes to make jokes at other people's expense. She likes to take photos and pose for them too. She makes money from helping out at gigs and taking part in shady deals on dimly lit streets. Sometimes she feels a chill run down her spin as she walking along the old track and can swear she hears whispering.
Model: Diana Moldovan
Vision blurred, heart racing, I run up the tracks, not even able to feel my legs, as I try to escape them; the whispers and voices that thrive in my brain like a parasite to its host.
I try to slow down as I near the station, and descend to the place that is my make-shift home. As quietly as possible, I tip-toe to where all the girls are sleeping, aside from Celeste of course.
"Adrienne?" a voice called. I nearly jump out of my skin as I turn to face the black night. As my eyes adjust, I recognize Stefan as the figure before me.
"Stefan!" I say, trying not to sound out of breath.
"Adrienne, what ARE you doing? Were you just running?"
I didn't know how to respond. I don't want everyone to think of me as The Crazy Girl Who Hears Voices.
"I think you were imagining things, you loon." I joked, trying to break the awkwardness that surrounded us both.
He laughed lightly, but replied "I can see you don't want to tell me what happened, but are you OK at least?"
"Alright, well I guess I'm going to go back to bed."
"Wait...why are YOU up?"
"We all have our secrets." he said as his lips curved into a smirk and winked at me. "Goodnight, Ad."
"'Night" I murmurred.
I walk toward the fire, crackling in the night sky of Stockholm, and sit beside it, trying to warm my bare arms and legs. I light a cigarette to calm myself down.
I stare at my hands, black polish nearly chipped off my nails completely, dirt and ash covering my knuckles, as I ponder Stefan's parting words.
I try to imagine myself with a perfect French manicure and beautiful rings.
This is who I am, grungey, grimy, imperfect.
But, we all have secrets, right?