WALKER, avi marciela

[avi marciela walker]

full name • avi marciela walker.
nick names • avi.
age • nineteen.
member group • new money.
occupation • model.
grade • n/a
hometown • ailey, georgia.
sexuality • straight. she thinks.
height • 5'9
hair • platinum blonde.
eyes • blue.
play by • siri tollerod

likes • french movies, coffee, loud music, raves, mdma, dancing, fairy ringtones, pink nails, pink in general, school work, diligence, punctuality, brushing her teeth, french, oranges, puffs medicated tissues, every accent (but hers), odd names.
dislikes • babies, crying people, shitty internet, being a total failure, smoking (although she does it near constantly), crucifixes (that obsession died about two years ago), stupid, repetitive music, country songs, cherry chapstick, chocolate.
habits/quirks •- dissects every meal until it doesn't look like food anymore.
- is so out of it all the time that she frequently doesn't realize what she's doing might seem immoral.
- smokes constantly.
- bitches sporadically.
fears • the dark, spiders, gaining weight.
dreams • get away from her previous life to the best of her ability.

top model status, bitches.
secrets • - feels really guilty every time she curses.
- tried to kill herself when she lived in the city by jumping off a railing.
- was saved by chinese food and a peculiar half-stranger named pistol.
overall •
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avi is the shell of her former personality, the bits and pieces of what made it through the meat grinder. while she's not particularly eccentric to the naked eye, scrape back a couple of layers and you'll find a variety of deeply-seeded issues, including but not limited to anorexia nervosa, nervous breakdowns, a past full of addiction and a couple of other things i can't even think of. due to her previously sweet nature, the best way to describe her now is crack ho and she avidly accepts that verbiage. she's something of a social butterfly, having come into her money easily and accepting that as it comes as well; she's social but not to the extent where it's obvious and shows no shame in being her quirky, odd self. due to her model occupation, she's strict about her diet, although she's never been one to work out. she's petrified of cars and refuses to ride in one, something of a residual effect from her years in manhattan.

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mother • n/a
father • n/a; she doesn't acknowledge either parent.
siblings • francesca, william, jacob, michael, ines and marjorie.
pets • none.
other family • none.
overall •
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Avi was born into a very expectant, very low-class family in the mediocre town of Ailey, Georgia. Each Walker child previous to her had been given a specific task in life, and hers had yet to come when she met and fell in love with Andrew Westell. He was charming, influencing and very driven in everything that he had set out for him, and she was fifteen years old. Things rapidly developed from regular relationship to head over heels and by the time a year had passed, as his job with Vogue steadily grew and grew, he’d asked her family if it was okay if he sent her polaroids into an Agency in New York, where she was accepted as a model. She was nothing special in her own eyes but Andrew consistently assured her that she was beautiful, and the pivotal point in her life because to take center stage. She was sixteen by the time her first runway season had occurred, and it wasn’t much longer after that that she was exposed to Andrew’s true nature. Sure, there had been lines of cocaine on the coffee table when she’d first dropped her things off in the crummy apartment, but there had also been a couple of aspiring models lounging about and she’d just assumed it was theirs. Avi had never laid a hand on anything illegal and she wasn’t planning on it. Soon thereafter, she developed an eating disorder from the stress of keeping her parents happy back in Ailey, sending them checks monthly to pay for everything they could ever want, as well as the abuse that had started from the high Andrew. Avi herself wasn’t into drugs, but she knew she couldn’t stop him and part of her believed he was right in doing so; his life was traumatic so he had to drive away the demons. After a brief spree of abuse, he’d lay with her, stroke her hair and promise her everything would be all right, no matter how much of a lie that was. Eventually, he took her virginity, leaving her pregnant and alone because he’d run off with a model named Graca to Ohio, where her family was hiding out illegally.

Avi was depressed, alone, and in a world full of things no seventeen year old should ever be exposed to. Anorexic and unhealthy, she knew taking care of a child wouldn’t be good for her or the baby and it was with this in mind that she made the trip to the clinic, her family 1,500 miles away and unable to help her as she sat, her head resting against the cold plaster and her fingers tapping impatiently on a slightly swollen tummy. Work came harder then ever after that, her main devotion and prime center of attention. Her whole world revolved around modeling, so when Pistol came into the picture and introduced her to things like heroin and cocaine, she found her diligence slightly shifting into a more illegal, hard to endure world. Long story short there, Pistol died in - imagine how ironic this is - a gunfight, where he was shot through the chest and didn’t make it, and Avi was left once more on her own.

Her world slowly getting smaller, she decided to start afresh by moving to long island and attempting a new life there. Unfortunately the raves and drugs followed her, and she still regularly indulges, but the love she felt for both Pistol and Andrew is gone, and now she’s left with a hollow shell of what she used to be, a bubbly, vivacious girl. Now she’s just ridden with disorders and problems that she keeps at bay with a tidy little habit full of three white lines and regular coffee. Kids scare her and she’s been starting up again lately with modeling, although it’s slowly becoming more tedious then it should have to be.

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your name • evelyn
your age • fourteen.
role playing experience • 2 1/2 years.
how you found us • ad somewhere.
role play sample •
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Scrubbing a hand through his brown mop of hair, Levi frowned into the reflection that stared back at him from the gas station mirror, the same job he’d held for around three years now the only thing that kept him occupied in the absence of Minnie. Some stupid old rock music was pumping through the speakers, probably trying to disguise whatever sounds decided to come out of the restroom - god knows he didn’t want to hear it anyway - and it was turning him into quite the sourpuss, not that he wasn’t already. He usually was when he wasn’t with her. She was his ray of sunshine, as corny and stupid as it sounded, and quite frankly he got frustrated ten times easier when she was mad at him. Rubbing a hand over the area on his arm where last night’s needle had pushed through the skin, he tilted his head, the chorus of the shitty song blasting through his head as though it was there all along. It made him want to vomit. Annoying fucking Tom Petty and his bullshit music. Tossing his head in something of a snort at his own interior dialogue, Levi used the toilet seat as a step stool, unfastening the speaker from the corner of the room and bringing it to the sink, running it under a stream of water until it shorted out. The cord was hanging limply from the wall, fittingly depressing, and he couldn’t bring himself to fix it. No Mr. Handyman, his shift was over in ten minutes anyway and it was directly in his mind to go to that liquor store and get the Russian standard, the good shit that people were too stingy to actually buy for themselves. There was always a rack in the back and you had to ask specifically for it.. But he didn’t know that because he’d ever coughed up enough to do that. Shoving the black boxes into the corner of the bathroom by the toilet so you couldn’t see them, he pushed open the door with his foot and exited the bathroom, cigarette immediately in his hand and lit. he didn’t spend much time without one. Minnie.

He hadn’t seen her at school, and with his record as of late it wasn’t like he could skip. The excuse of going off to find God only worked for so long, although his stupid fucking father readily accepted it whenever those disgusting words left his mouth. It was sick, too, because he’d used to believe that there was some unnamed man in the sky keeping him from fucking up and fucking people over. Apparently celibacy tied into that and he wasn’t a fan of that either, so it was an easy decision to ditch the religion he was supposedly ingrained with in favor of Minnie and her green hair. Too bad she didn’t appreciate his dancing. It wasn’t like it mattered; he’d intended to bring her out to the lake because he’d stashed a mattress earlier, an air mattress.. He was going to take her out on the lake in it and they could literally sleep under the stars, with only hope as the knowledge that it wouldn’t sink. But apparently the alcohol in her system was enough to convince her that dancing was negative and he was too fucked up to push away the other girl, so she left and he left and the last he’d heard was that she had dyed her hair back. That was never good. It almost always meant that something was going on in her head and he preferred to keep her blissfully unaware of the workings of the world. Protect her from the things she didn’t need to see. Buy for her so she didn’t have to put up her own money, and when the actual fiscal part of things fell through, her body. He knew how that worked. He’d seen it first hand on several occasions. Sniffing, the slight burning sensation of the line he’d done before still radiating through his sinuses, he took a drag off of the cigarette and expelled it into the air.

Ten minutes, two gas tanks and an oil change later, he was done. The smell of cars clung to him like it always had, his blank, frowning expression thoroughly engraved onto his otherwise happy face, the lips usually turned up at the corners. Everyone in Ailey knew he hated his job. That he’d sooner not work at all, but it was the only escape he could get from being just the pastor’s son and having money of his own was always a good thing, even though he was usually paid in undercover things like cigarettes and whatever else the owner had on him at the time. Oxy. It didn’t matter. Heading away from the station with something of an excited bounce in his step, he lifted his hand in a wave to some dude who’d honked his horn at him, smirk crossing his lips as it had every day previous. He didn’t usually grin. He just… smirked. It was a frequent expression for the boy. Cracking his knuckles, he moved behind the building and was mere seconds away from using the key for his house to pick the back lock when a familiar ass caught his eye. Minnie. Moving silently under the cover of the darkness, he was behind her in a couple of mere seconds, his hands on her waist and his lips at her ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” his tone was stern, but he couldn’t keep that familiar cockiness that almost always presented itself when other people were around out of his voice. Releasing her so she didn’t turn around and whack him, he clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent any possible screams, alerting the owners to what was going on. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to get wasted by yourself?”

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