Post by kali on Sept 13, 2012 12:09:27 GMT -8
Christine -- Yvette -- Bouchard !
BASICS...
Face Claim: Emmy Rossum
Full Name: Christine Yvette Bouchard
Nicknames: Chris, Chrissie, Yvette, Ivy
Hair Colour: brown
Eye Colour: brown
Height: 5'3"
Age: 19
Gender: female
Occupation: student
Team:
Goal for HA: Chrissie dreams of getting out in the world and becoming an opera singer. While her mother is hell-bent on turning her into a professional horsewoman. She's not against her mothers goals, they just aren't her goals and Chrissie would rather not use horses the way her mother does.
Five Likes:
- music
- opera
- singing
- horses
- spring
- light rain showers
- full-moons
- moonlit walks
- moonlit rides
- sappy stories, poems and movies
Five Dislikes:
- obnoxious, loud and rude people
- princess-persona's
- her mother
- professional horsemen
- competitions
HOME LIFE...
Parents: Joanna Bouchard (mother) Michael Bouchard (father)
Siblings: Charlane Bouchard (sister) Charles Bouchard (frat. twin)
Other: Linnea Nordin (cousin) Glen Nordin (cousin) Robin Bouchard (cousin) Tamora Bouchard (aunt) Kristine Nordin (aunt)
Riding History: When it comes to riding Chrissie was in the saddle long before she was walking or talking. This would, normally, produce a pony-loving girl obsessed with those blue ribbons, in most cases anyway. Instead it created a laid-back horse lover that would just as soon spend hours simply brushing or watching horses roam in the fields rather than riding them. Throughout her life she has struggled to be the top-rider as her mother demands it, going through rigorous training and keeping up with high-dollar lessons on high-dollar horses with little to no spirit left in them. Earning ribbons (mostly blue but occassionally red and yellow) as well as trophies she finds herself hating competitions more and more each year.
Chrissie has willingly tossed a show when she felt something wasn't right about it, herself or her horse, or when she just doesn't feel like competing. It's created a long, drawn-out battle between herself and her mother. She gave up jumping at around 14 years old and has stuck with dressage only for the last five years, wishing she could focus on something more relaxed. She's always dreamed of riding western but heaven forbid she mention this to her mother! She hasn't entered any truly major shows but that's just because she's always managed to slip just under the qualifying rounds and miss out on them.
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ABOUT YOU...
Name/Alias: Kali
Age: 20
Years RPing: 8
RL Horse Experience: riding since I was 5 and owning my own horse. I'm actually in the process of training my horse from a green-broke, half-trained roping mare into a barrel horse. Never entered shows before and probably won't have the time to ride my mare in barrel races in the future either but I do enjoy working with her :3
Example Post: minimum 200 words!It had been one of those long, long days. She ambled impatiently through the corridors, her hooves clicking smartly on the rough stones as she moved from one end of the grand palace to the other. She was not. . . . balanced enough to deal with the simple court gestures let alone a room full of fools. She hated leaving Daer alone to deal with the council on most occasions but it was often best for her to be absent - considering her habit of spontaneously igniting things - and others - around her when her temper spikes. Unlike the rest of the cam and cool Nordin house she had absolutely no control over her stronger emotions and thus no true control over her abilities. She swished her long curly black tail against her multi-colored hips as she paced, baring her teeth to rush a lazy servant from her path. While Nabh, despite her fabled temper, would never lay a hand on the staff she was not above intimidating them in her temper. It was that intimidation factor that enabled her to move them around without causing harm to them. While they knew she wouldn't hurt them there was still that deepest, darkest seed of fear when she made a threat.
It suited her well. Isolation was something she had greatly grown accustomed to. Nothing about the courts would change that - even her own Daer. Her dearest Daer. The idiot boy who couldn't say word one of what she needed to hear but was miraculously always there when she needed his comfort. Heaving a massive sigh Nabh thrust herself from the palace and out into the open, rolling gardens that over-took the southern lands of the hills. She stood, enjoying the solace she had found for herself when a flutter of great wings and a whoosh of air drew her attention up and away. Not one but two stallions had lifted into the air in response to a blinding flash - the spittle flame of her dearest friend. It was none other than her own husband and - was thatSTAFF POSITIONSWhy indeed it was the father. She stared on, curious at their departure until a servant came to draw her from the gardens insisting that it was not safe. She rolled her eyes at the pitiful beast and snorted hard.
"If it is so unsafe then lead by example and return to the palace yourself." she made it a careful point not to lash out at the servants - after all her best friend and now the bastard princess had been one such servant and she'd never once lashed out at her. It was the thought of Tiamat that tugged at her heart - which rested so far from her great body. She felt an ache between her ribs where the beating organ had once lain, long ago. It had been many, many decades since she had felt the true beat of her own heart. The Strength that coursed through her when her blood was pumped by her heart was unlike any other but she feared it would always be the phantom throbbing she would feel lest she suffer an agonizing fate. She shook herself out, forcing her dreary thoughts to lighten. It was not every day that Tiamat brought such a reaction to her and while the fire had indicated that Tiamat had not entirely been safe it did not bring quite as much alarm to Nabh - who knew the resting place of her sister in spirit's heart (as it was none other then the secret place of her own heart). At great length she pondered the incident before spreading her broad, black and red wings, block swirled golden dots trailing down the bone-structure on top of her wings, accenting the leathery skin as it rippled taut and stretched with elasticity.
She, unlike many of her kind, had been born with a rather ancient bloodline leading back towards the leather skinned beasts they were so named for. Her family had been little-bred, one of the smaller bloodlines around, which had, in turn, kept the pure white fire of her bloodline within only her bloodline. Over the centuries only a a handful of successful couplings had occurred in her line - she was the last such coupling. Admiring her great wings she smiled softly before launching herself into the air, swooping and cupping her wings to grasp the currents as she lifted herself up. It was no easy feat to rise from a stand still but it was a coup she enjoyed performing. It forced a new kind of stamina and strength into her lithe, agile body and pleased her to no end when her peoples awed at the marvel. The thought of her bloodline mixing with Daer's brought a mixed jumble of emotions to the surface and she was thankful that there was not one mind-reader in the people she lived among. What would the crossing do to their firesSTAFF POSITIONSBoth families had strong bloodlines - both had a certain color stamped to their fires. Would it be that the fire depended upon the gender of the childSTAFF POSITIONSDeep inside she desired nothing more than for her child to be born with her own intense, white flames but that would not do with the people. Daer's vibrant blue had been the representation of the royal line for three generations now and, though the bloodlines would oft switch among royal families the people had been content under Daer's line and had not requested such a thing. They might, she realized, if she tainted his bloodline and corrupted his fire.
But the chances of a new color were incredibly slim. It had been almost a thousand years since any 'new' color had been formed in a coupling. The last color created had been . . . had been a Zarix's own deep mauve. That had been many, many centuries ago and it occurred to Nabh that the creature she had murdered in her own bedchambers months, years, back had been a possessor of that same 'new' color. They had been a novelty among the immortals which might have been why she had been in such grave danger from the actions - until Rydaerin had saved her. In many ways he'd made her life much, much better, but in just as many ways he made her miserable. She was not a hugely touchy-feely mare. She did not preen at praise and gawkers (except the occasional exhibition she performed for her peoples) but she was still a mare. She stilled liked hearing sweet words from her lover on occasion and- Daer was lacking in the sense to say anything that required emotions. She sometimes wondered if she'd been a fool, blinded by the thin promise of security he'd offered her, when she accepted the vows.
What had she really seen in the bindingSTAFF POSITIONSWell, a good, close friend for one. The crownSTAFF POSITIONSShe even refused to be called 'queen' by the servants of the castle! She had not been after rank - that was for sure! She despised courtiers and flashy events and, with her at the courts, in the courts, leading the courts the dances and parties had been few and far between with more sensibility to them. They were modest, gentile, even. Despite the grumblings of the nobles she liked the smaller events much better. They did not berate her head and ignite her temper, she did not set things aflame - which she had a strong tendency to do! -and - AHA! She circled once, twice, in the air before lowering herself and folding her wings effortlessly to her red, black and gold bodice, landing easily beside the charred and slowly cooling remains of the Roc. She stared emotionlessly at the creature before turning empathetic eyes to her former servant. She gave a teasing 'tsk, tsk' to her indigo-black and white friend, her eyes glittering with mirth. "It is alright, Tiamat. Everything will eventually come to an end. Think of this you have provided others less fortunate with a source of sustenance." she glanced pointedly at the shadowed recesses of the forests rimming so nearby. Smaller predators lurked but remained hidden from the gathering, frightful of the flame-bearing beasts before the Roc.
She moved to stand beside Tiamat - refusing to draw any nearer to Valgorrin, which prevented her from standing beside the very man that had claimed her heart - whether she wished to admit it in her most annoyed times or not. Despite his failings at telling her anything he did, in his own way, express his feelings with gifts and actions. It just was not the same to Nabh and she had no one to blame but herself. She flicked her curly, black tail, all thoughts of families, bloodlines, fires, and parties behind her as she stared between them. "Well now, why don't we get out of the way before the larger beasts grow impatient with usSTAFF POSITIONS" she asked it, not implying any sense of command over anyone. It was gentle request made for Tiamat's sake. If any of the more impatient and larger beasts did strike in annoyance and hunger Tiamat would have to strike again at another. Nabh did not mind the hunt, the thrill, the killing. She wasn't has gentel in her heart as Tiamat; it came with the territory she had grown up and and, she supposed, with dealing with politics. One required a certain. . . bloodlust to survive among the greatest of all gossips. She spared a smile glance and fleeting smile to Rydaerin, trying to mask the hurt she felt from what she thought - what her mother had once described - as neglect. It was unintentional and she could not fault him. Just as she hoped he did not fault her for igniting a few rooms in the palace on occasion. Her spontaneous fires were an extension of her temper. The only control she had was that of guiding it to inanimate and replaceable objects rather than those who drove her to the extremes. She shifted her wings, bumping at Tiamat in a gentle reassurance. As long as the youngling had been her 'servant' she had also been Nabh's 'sister' and friend. The little nuances of each others personalities was easy to discern between the two and the bump was a simple 'lets get out of here' a sign of Nabh's own unease.