Post by yvonne navarro on Nov 24, 2010 21:53:56 GMT -5
The full name's yvonne (eve-on) emilie (amelia) navarro, but most people call me eve. In case you couldn't tell, I'm a female. I came into this world kicking and screaming on october the twenty-first, and twenty-nine years later, I still haven't stopped. Back then, I lived in ost Berlin (east Berlin). I'm a Caucasian dealing with the stress of teaching a junior english class. I graduated from northwestern university way back in two-thousand-three.
eyes :: Eve has gray eyes. TAKE THAT ALL YOU BLUE-EYED LADIES OF WILMER. You're jealous 'cause your eyes can't be gray all the time. Anyway. Eve's gray closely resembles ice and steel (or icy steel). Occasionally, a ferruginous ring forms around her pupil, which causes her eyes to pop. Most of the time, though, they look cold, hard, and faraway.
nose :: ... It's between her eyes. JUST KIDDING. I'll be serious now. Eve's nose is considerably thin all the way down the bridge. Then you hit the end of her nose, and it opens in to an almost diamond-like shape. This diamond is just as flat as the bridge of her nose. The very tip curls downward.
hair :: Growing up in East Berlin, Eve was practically a rebel from the time she was born. As such, her hair color of choice is one that will stand apart from others. When she first dyes it, her hair is a brilliant blood red. Then, after a few months, the color fades to a softer burgundy. She wears her hair long and layered, the longest layer ending just above the small of her back. Most days, Eve straightens it, but on formal occasions, she'll curl it.
face :: One cannot deny that Eve has striking features. Her face is the kind that sticks in your memory, not necessarily because it's beautiful, but because it's strong and sharp, reflecting Eve's inner strength. For starters, it's very square. She would have a man's jaw if not for the bit of meat rounding out the corners Second, her face is wider than average. This means that, in turn, her eyes are wider than average, and I've already covered how striking they are. Finally, she has strong cheek bones. They aren't exactly high, but they're so angled that they protrude. Eve will often accentuate the sharpness of her cheekbones by coloring the skin just below them a shade darker than her usual foundation. In comparison to the width of her face, her mouth is quite small. Eve compensates for this fact by glossing her lips, or applying lipstick to fill them out. She prefers shades that are either a hint lighter or darker than her natural lip color so that her mouth doesn't clash with her skin tone. Eve's also a fan of the smoky eye look. She takes painstaking care in the application of her copious amounts of eyeliner and shadow, and in the end, most people can't tear their gaze from her eyes.
body :: Eve's certainly not tawny, but she's not quite pallid, either. She'd consider herself peach. Her perfect skin is one of her best physical attributes. No blemishes mar her features but two barely visible freckles above her right elbow. When upright, Eve stands at five feet, seven inches tall. She weighs approximately one-hundred thirty pounds. Not the curviest woman on the planet, - as a matter of fact, she barely has curves at all -, but she knows how to dress for her body type. Though Eve is fond of tattoos and piercing on other people, she doesn't care for any of her own. During her college days, however, a couple of friends talked her into a tattoo. So if you ever catch her swimming, you'll notice some seemingly random german words inked into the small of her back. "Nie werden wir sterben", it reads, or "We will never die" (directly translated "never will we die").
likes :: cigarettes, booze, metal, ink, sleep, makeup, fashion, classic literature, Machiavelli's The Prince (it's her favorite book), expanding her vocabulary, her pocket thesaurus, her pocket dictionary, switching into German to confuse the people around her, pushing the envelop, clubbing, dance beats, sharing her knowledge, learning
dislikes :: losing sleep, hardheaded students, perfectionists, confrontation, being asked to say something in German, when people use her as a human dictionary, having her emotions toyed with, alarm clocks, having nowhere to go on a Friday or Saturday night, exclusive relationships
habits :: she'll switch into German whenever she's uncomfortable or flustered, immediately correct a grammatical error when she hears one (whether it's made by a student, a coworker, a complete stranger, or the television set), talk faster when upset or excited, fiddle with clothing items (just 'cause she's ADD like that), and repeat names, addresses, phone numbers, etc. to herself after she's heard them so she can recall them later
flaws :: Eve is materialistic, cavalier in her personal life, and a chain smoker. She also has difficulties accepting constructive criticism and conceding to anyone with more power or authority than herself.
positive attributes :: She is exceedingly bright, passionate about her job, responsible for her actions, and not afraid to be herself
secret(s) :: Eve fell in love with one of her old students.
... big mistake.
pet peeve(s) :: Grammatical failures (especially on national television), abuse of power, the corruption in government
personality :: Eve's personality kind of contradicts itself.
On the one hand, you have Eve the nerd. This is the Eve that'll spend her day off curled up on the couch with a good book and a cup of coffee. That book'll probably counted as a classic, and it probably won't be her first read-through of said class. Books she's got under her belt are Machiavelli's The Prince (she reads this once a year), Dante's Inferno, Homer's The Iliad and The Odyssey, George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm, Virgil's The Aeneid, Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange, and anything and everything by Edgar Allen Poe. She avoids Shakespeare like the plague, however. Her life is enough of an emotional tragedy, 'kay thanks. Nerd Eve will google things like "torture devices utilized during the Middle Ages" or "the royal family of Hungary" for the sake of learning something new. She also has this gift of retention. She remembers anything she hears or reads and can conjure it up later if the subject is broached. English was always her favorite subject growing up, and she does have a passion for literature, but a close second is history. She loves researching, say, Marie Antoinette, Edward Teach (most people call him "Blackbeard"), or Vlad III of Wallachia (you might know him as Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for Bram Stoker's Dracula). To top off Nerd Eve, she has this passion forforcing her knowledge on unwilling recipientssharing what she knows.
On the other hand, you have Eve the rebel. The Eve that is hopelessly addicted to nicotine and can blow through one pack of cigarettes every two days. The Eve that drinks like a fish. That dresses like a hooker and grinds with anyone unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on who you are) enough to cross her path at a club. This is the Eve that'll insult you right back if you insult her, the Eve that'll call you out for looking at her cross-eyed, and the Eve that won't do anything unless you can give her a solid reason as to why she should.
And on yet another hand, - I'm going to assume you're some sort of mutant freak with three hands -, you have Eve, the woman with a conscience whose parents didn't completely fail at raising her. This Eve will apologize when she's overstepped her boundaries. This Eve will take the fall for someone who isn't strong enough to admit to their own crime. This Eve knows and accepts her own limitations, and doesn't walk around like some infallible superbitch. ... Who's afraid to give her heart away because the last time she did, the person she gave it to thought it'd be funny to tear it in half.
mother :: teresia (ter-AY-see-uh) navarro, fifty-seven, seamstress
father :: burk navarro, fifty-nine, psychologist (he specializes in post-traumatic stress)
brother(s) :: alric (all-rick) navarro, thirty-four, navy flyer
alric navarro, thirty-one, retired male model gone stylist (yes, he's gay)
sister(s) :: sofia navarro-miller, twenty-five, socialite wife of a brain surgeon
step-relations: :: none
children :: ... this entails a husband
other relatives ::
odelia (oh-dal-ee-uh) navarro, eighty-three, paternal grandmother, retired
adelric (odd-all-rick) navarro, eighty-four, paternal grandfather, retired
diedrich (dee-trick) fiedler (feedler), maternal grandfather, executed for treason
christiane (christie-anna) fiedler, maternal grandmother, executed for treason
pets :: adalwolf (add-a-wolf), a one-hundred ten pound rottweiler (slash killing machine)
background check :: In soviet Germany, birth gives a mother.
If you read that sentence and scratched your head, allow me to direct you to this wikipedia page for a history lesson ('cause we all know wikipedia is almost as legit as George Bush). Long story short, Eve lived the first eight years of her life in soviet-controlled east Berlin.
For the first four years, she was an ignorant little kid. She ate her generic brand foods, crapped in her diaper until she was potty trained, listened (but did not understand) as her parents read her stories from Struwwelpeter, watched her mother give birth to another baby girl, and looked on as her older brothers beat each other up, as little boys often do.
Then she grew up, and her mother took her places. The first place she went was the local grocery. Her mother had Eve dictate labels to help her practice her reading. Eve can still remember the day that her mother saw a two-liter bottle of Coke sitting on the shelf. Teresia practically danced down the aisle toward the thing. Then some other woman nicked it right up before Teresia could get a decent grip. Eve, being the young, naïve child she was, ran forward and pointed an accusing finger at the woman. "Du kannst es nicht haben!" (You can't have it!) she insisted. "Meine Mutti hat es erst gesehen!" (My mom saw it first!)
The woman took one look at Eve, scoffed, and said, "Ich werde es nicht auf dir geben." (I won't give it to you). She sauntered off.
Eve asked her mother what was so special about the drink that Teresia would dance at the sight of it and the woman would so adamantly refuse to give it up (except she used smaller words, 'cause she was a wee sprout). Her mother looked down at her like she was the most precious, ignorant person in the world and replied, "Wir bekommen oft keine Cola." (We don't often get coke).
When they returned home, Eve confronted Alric about this, inquiring as to whether or not he knew. He broke her the news that their half of the city was under the control of the soviets, and they limited the luxuries making their way through the border. Alric took Eve to see the wall that day. While they were there (standing a good thirty feet away, so they wouldn't get shot), he leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Sie haben es besser dann wir." (They have it better than us).
Up until the day she was eight, Eve dreamed about what life was like on the other side of the wall. To her, West Berlin was a land of candy and unicorns, rainbows and leprechauns. She thought there must be faeries wandering the streets, granting everyone's wishes, and all was well. Thanks to Alric, Eve knew that in school, she was only learning what the communists wanted her to learn. She was only eating what the communists wanted her to eat, she was only wearing what the communists wanted her to wear. To say that it bothered her was the understatement of the century.
A rebel from the start, Eve participated in her first protest when she was seven years old.
Carsten had recently started tearing his clothes up and sewing them back together in different styles, so Eve asked him to do her a favor. She asked to slice a pair of jeans and t-shirt to oblivion, then sew on letters cut from the soviets' wanna-be newspaper headings to spell "freiheit" (you all probably know what that means).
Out on the street, she lasted five minutes.
Then two footsoldiers grabbed her (one on either arm), dragged her back to her house, threw her through the door, and ordered her to change "oder sonst" (or else).
Less than a month after Eve's eighth birthday, the Berlin wall fell. Her parents took the family over to west Berlin to visit her father's parents. Teresia's parents had been killed long before Eve's birth, she learned, for doing something similar to what Eve had.
West Berlin wasn't nearly as cool as Eve thought it would be. Her little sister Sofia was enamored with it. And so, it seemed, was everyone else.
Two months later, Teresia and Burk announced that the family would be moving to the United States.
New York City, to be exact.
December saw the family in a tiny apartment in SoHo. Sofia, Eve, and the boys were taught the basics of the English language for a month, then were enrolled in public school.
Eve was the shiny new toy. Everyone wanted to touch the European girl. Everyone wanted to hear her say something in foreign. Everyone wanted to know what it was like living under a communist government. Eve couldn't understand half their questions during the first couple months, and when she finally could, she grew annoyed with them. She brushed off the crowds, ditching them to hang out with the other outcasts.
New York City was the central hub of American fashion. It was there that Carsten fell in love. Not with a person, but an industry. He wouldn't let his siblings leave the house unless their outfits had earned his seal of approval. He was so enthusiastic about it that Eve took an interest. She leaned more toward the Bohemian aspect - the torn stockings, the fishnets, the skulls, and the plaid. Threadbare clothing was more in her family's price range anyway.
Fashion brought Eve and her brother together. She grew closer to him than anyone else in her family, and ultimately, anyone else she interacted with on a daily basis. She didn't have "friends" in school -- she had her older brother. The two shared everything. Clothes, makeup, secrets -- including the shocker that didn't shock Eve at all.
Carsten was gay.
When he told her, Eve stared at him for a long moment, then said, "Ich habe bereits gewissen." (I already knew). She spent the next second explaining to him that she'd figured it out when he admitted he thought a guy that Eve was crushing on was attractive. He told her that he wasn't ready to come out to the rest of the family, especially since people didn't exactly appreciate gayness during the 90's. To help keep his secret, Eve and Carsten went together to his senior prom.
The rest of high school was the average journey of self-discovery, only for Eve, it was much less eventful than everyone else's. All she did was study and read. She had to work twice as hard to keep up with her classes since all her time spent in American public school was one giant English class.
Carsten came home from college (as a rouse, he'd opted to major in architecture) for Eve's graduation. He brought someone he introduced as his "business partner". Eve, of course, caught on right away, but nobody else knew. Burk and Teresia booked the ballroom at the Regis hotel. The party was in full swing - music playing, people swaying - when Carsten pulled the plug on the newfangled CD player the people at Radio Shack called a "stereo".
He didn't say a single word.
He just strode across the ballroom and kissed his "business partner".
That night, Teresia and Burk disowned him.
Eve stowed away in his car. He was headed back to Chicago to pull out of Northwestern University, the school that Eve had coincidentally been accepted into. She applied because that's where Carsten went. Eve lived with her brother until the start of the next semester, when the dorm was passed to her and the school kicked him out. He went back to New York to study fashion. Eve hasn't seen him since.
College was pretty run-of-the-mill for Eve. She studied, partied, lost her virginity, discovered the joys (and the not-so-joyous woes) of alcohol, picked up a nasty smoking habit, and graduated at twenty-two with degrees in English literature and secondary education.
Her first job was a substitute teaching position at Amundsen High School. She subbed there for three years. Then, in two-thousand-seven, the english teacher she was subbing for retired. Guess who got the job?
That's right.
Eve.
Along with a senior English class, she inherited a creative writing elective. A young man named Stephen Mauer took said elective as a Junior.
His stories were creative. They were original. They were witty. He was an eloquent writer, an eloquent speaker. He would reprimand the other students when they spoke out of turn or sassed Eve. All around, he was a joy to have in class.
The next year, he showed up again, this time in Eve's English class. He was her shield, protecting her from the rowdy seniors in the class. He would stay after class to help clean up after class projects. And when the class read Romeo and Juliet (which Eve would've ordinarily loathed), he volunteered to read Romeo. Some girl named Jasmine, who just so happened to the the most beautiful, popular young lady in school, read Juliet.
One day, conveniently in the middle of their unit, Jasmine got the flu, and no one wanted to fill in for her. It was Act 1, scene five. Stephen looked straight at Eve and said, "I guess you'll have to read with me."
Stupid Eve. She gave in far too easily.
Steven had the scene memorized. He didn't look anywhere but at Eve through the entire reading. Eve couldn't help but notice how enchanting his eyes were. And how attractive he was. And how alluring his voice sounded. ... And how sincere he became when they reached the kisses.
Though she couldn't see it, Eve was certain her face was flushing a deeper and deeper red with each passing second. Her body temperature sky-rocketed, and if weren't obvious enough that she was flustered, she had to go and stammer the next line in the wrong language. "Du küsst durch der Buch." Her blush deepened. Eve shook her head and corrected herself. "You kiss by the book."
After school, Eve was experiencing a mental breakdown, her head on her desk, when there came a knock at the door. When Eve didn't answer, Stephen let himself in. He plopped down on top of the desk adjacent Eve's. "You okay Eve?" There was genuine concern in his voice.
She sat up. "Fine." Forced a smirk. "And it's Miss Navarro to you."
He slid off the desk. "I don't mean to seem forward, but is that what you want?" And inclined his head, fixing her with those deep, soft eyes of his. "You want to be Miss Navarro, and me to be just your best student?"
Eve couldn't say anything to that. She could only sit and stare.
Stephen propped his hands on the desk, leaning across it until his face was only inches from hers. "That's it?"
The classroom had turned into a sauna. Eve leaned back in her seat, uncomfortable. "Bitte verstehen..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I mean--"
"Why do you do that?" Stephen asked. He slipped a finger under her chin and titled it up until Eve had nowhere to look but at him. "You act like you've done something wrong whenever you say something in German. It isn't wrong to be yourself."
And then there was some gazing, some quickened breathing, some leaning, and...
He kissed her.
That was Friday.
Eve's weekend was spent freaking out on her couch. Her fingers remained knotted in her hair. She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, and worst of all, she couldn't stop shaking.
Sunday night, she realized.
She was in love with Stephen.
It seemed the feeling was mutual.
Until Monday morning, that is.
Jasmine had recovered from her bout of the flu. In fact, she'd recovered enough to shove her tongue down Stephen's throat in Eve's classroom just before the teacher returned from the restroom. Eve assigned her students an in-class essay and stayed at her desk. She didn't move an inch, not even when the final bell rang.
She handed in her resignation the next day. The day after that, she submitted an application to a nearby school. Lumini needed someone to teach its juniors English.
role play sample ::When you're over six feet tall, "stealth mode" is not an option.
Especially when you're in line behind four feet and eight inches of midget.
After few minutes of bent knees, Jarrod had pretty much abandoned any attempt to hide. What was he hiding from? Alexia Rose Pierce, of course.
For some reason Jarrod couldn't quite put his finger on, Lexi turned white as a sheet and dove for cover whenever she saw Jarrod coming. It was such an odd reaction. Not many people shied away from their soul mates.... their destinies.
He was Alexia's destiny.
There was no question about that.
Anyway, Jarrod was hoping he could catch his rose by surprise so she wouldn't have a chance to escape him. That was kind of hard to do when your human shield couldn't even reach your shoulders. Jarrod was stuck. He could move back a few places in line, but that would give Alexia plenty of time to move from where she already was and disappear into whichever cinema was playing the movie she was at the Megaplex to see.
The midget cast a glance over her shoulder at Jarrod.
He held his hand up, curling each of his fingers into his palm in turn, then straightening them out and repeating the process. This was his unique version of a wave. This was accompanied by a toothy grin. Jarrod knew he looked like Chucky. That was kind of the point.
Midget ordered her ticket, and suddenly, Jarrod was up. Realizing he hadn't thought of a movie to see, he echoed the midget girl. That meant he was sitting through a Night of the Living Dead film for the umpteenth time.
This prospect was made slightly less grim by the fact that the blond midget attending the same showing was accompanying Alexia. Jarrod found that out the second he walked into the theater lobby and saw Alexia duck behind the snack counter.
Blond midget girl was obviously covering for her. She made a point of standing directly in front of Alexia, shielding Jarrod's rose from view, and deliberately facing away from her. Jarrod shook his head. If the midget girl didn't move when he asked, he'd be forced to take matters into his own hands.
The long metal chains strung through his belt loops jangled as he crossed the lobby. When he reached Alexia and her little blond friend, he made sure to invade the blond's personal space, bowing his head to look down at her. A coy smirk played with the corner of his mouth.
"You should move," he purred. His fingertips grazed the girl's arm. "You're blocking my view."
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hey. my alias is robin (this is my last character, I swear to god), I'm sixteen years old, and I've been slashing for four years. I heard about you guys through a singing calculator, and let me say, THE SEXY ADMINS OF WILMER WIN AGAIN.
