BONNAIRE, CARYS

[carys lillia bonnaire]

HELLO MY NAME IS CARYS LILLIA BONNAIRE AND I AM TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD. I'M A HUMAN AND RANK AS THE ONLY DAMN SLAYER ON THIS ISLAND AND I WAS BORN ON MAY 3rd, 1988 IN CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. MY NATIONALITY IS AMERICAN WITH FRENCH HERITAGE. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE DANIELLE HARRIS. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM ANTISOCIAL, SOCIOPATHIC, SNARKY, ARGUEMENTATIVE, RUDE, COLD, RUTHLESS, A BITCH. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY karma!

note:
*even before the island, carys hardly went out on a stroll unarmed; she specializes in vampire and kelpie slaying, but carries other tools. arriving to ivory was an accident, but she sees it as a blessing in disguise.

CODEWORD:ivory!

ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:

(The life of Carys Lillia Bonnaire, starts of shockingly average. Born in the quiet, safe little suburbs of Conneticut, she had no real interest of moving to New York; or any other place for that matter. There, is were she was born to Daisy and Robert Bonnaire. rather late in their marriage, as well. Even then, Robert's diagnosis of leukemia just two days after Carys' 17th birthday was a shock to everybody. He was dead two months later, and left poor widowed Daisy in a wreck. Carys felt bad, but she didn't know what to do, so she ran way from the problem. With only her dog, her father's ruby-red Toyota Camry, and a $200 to spare, she drove down to the only place she'd been outside the confines of Conneticut; Salem, New York. --

The place was huge, and she wasn't used to it. A nice girl like her couldn't survive in a place like this, she'd get eaten alive. So, like a protective shell, her heart hardened to pretty much everyone. That's the way it stayed, as she sturggled to live in the big city, and getting a reputation of the "town bitch". Finally, she'd gotten people to fear her; however, as it turns out, there was plenty for her to fear. Not too long ago, death revealed itself; in the form of the Vampires and Werewolves. This made many feel uneasy, including her. One night, strolling across the sidewalk after working late, something jumped at her from a dark alley. Something with fangs. brandished in her face, and with a stick of wood, she closed them, permanently. --

Oh god, she'd killed someone! Or something, she still wasn't too clear on the whole thing. The funny thing about it is, no one really seemed to care. In fact, she started getting requests, accompanied with a name and a good amount of money; most from those anti-supernatural religous organizations that seemed to pop up as soon as as their existence was announced. She was barely making the rent as it was, how could she resist that offer? There was really only one choice, it seemed: don't. With the quick bang of a gun shooting a silver bullet and a wooden stake thrust into the heart of the undead, she was making big money. She just may be able to survive this city after all. )

[/blockquote][/center]