Post by sandy on Jun 9, 2010 22:03:36 GMT -5
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HELLO MY NAME IS JESSICA ANNE CLARK AND I AM 18 YEARS OLD. I'M A SUCCUBUS AND RANK AS N/A AND I WAS BORN ON 23/APRIL/1983 IN AMERICA. MY NATIONALITY IS AMERICAN AND UKRAINE. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE COURTNEY COX. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM CHARISMATIC, SHORT-TEMPERED, AND IMPATIENT. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY SANDY.CODEWORD: IVORY
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:
(taken from another site)
The girl was biting her lip and standing on the curb, looking up and down the street slowly. No cars were coming but she made no move to go across. Slowly, she turned around and tapped her wail over to the brick wall. She leaned against it, her keen eyes sweeping along the intersection and sidewalks.
She hated the city. She hated the sidewalks, mercilessly cold in winter and blazing hot in summer. She hated the towering buildings, cluttering up the sky. She hated the smog, drifting above those buildings, deadly and yet so little thought of.
Of all of her hate for the city, though, she looked like she belonged. Like it was her home since birth. She wore a low-cut tank-top, showing a generous amount of cleavage. Her jeans were low riding, tight against her thighs and flaring out at the end, just revealing her strappy sandals. Her eyeshadow was a smoky brown, her favorite color of eyeshadow, and really darkened her green eyes, giving her a feral look.
Now the female stepped away from the brick wall and stretch, exposing a thin line of her slim belly for a moment before she lowered her arms again. She smiled at a couple of boys, no older then fourteen, gawking at her appreciatively when she stretched. But they meant nothing to her. They were only fourteen while she was seventeen in a month.
Ah, seventeen. She was the last of her friends to turn the age. Seventeen. Only a year more until she was free, only a year until she could pierce her ears or her tongue or even get a tattoo. Her stupid parents. Too demanding and strict. She wasn't even aloud to get her ears pierced.
Just then, the girl realized she was still smiling, looking quite dorky probably. She turned around around, running her fingers through her hair. It was up in her favorite look, a wild tassel on top of her head, wild and yet looking so neat. She sighed, leaning, once again, against the cold stone. Where were her friends? She knew the answer to that, she told herself grimly. Two were in the Caribbean, without her, another was grounded, and another was planning to ruin her popularity. Great. Before she knew it she would be stuck with those geeky fourteen year-olds.
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