Scarlet // Roxelana Tomasova (_scarlet_) wrote, @ 2010-10-12 15:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | application, ooc |
OOC: Application
You;
Name: Erynn
Contact details: erynn716@yahoo.com // Erynn716
PB: Klodi Suicide
Journal name: http://users.insanejournal.com/_scarlet
Character;
Name:Russalanie Tomasova, a.k.a. Scarlet
Age: Mid-twenties
Flavor: Natural
Ability/specialization: Fire Affinity. Whether raising the heat of one of her customer’s blood, or the handy parlor trick of snapping her fingers in lieu of a match, it falls under Scarlet’s command.
Occupation: Escort, companion for hire -- just don’t call her a whore, whatever you do. Co-Owner of The Gem and partner to the Madam.
Resident location: London (Will have a bit more of a blurble with particulars re: The Gem once I get apps done and time to confer with the lovely Catwo.)
Personality: Much like the fire she wields, Scarlet’s temperament changes with the direction of a breeze. Typically speaking, she’s rather good natured, cheerful to a fault. She enjoys chattering on with their clientele, gossiping with the girls, working up business with some of the nearby properties. Of course when there’s money to be made it only brightens her disposition further, flirting her way into a man’s wallet is as easy as breathing. She’s picked up on the finer points of running a business easy enough over the years, and has found it enjoyable along the way. She’s a mind for finance, and what little perks and frills attract their client’s interests and keeps them coming back.
With their girls, she’s as hard as she is soft, and while she might not be able to work the maternal angle as well as lady Madam, it doesn’t stop her from evoking the sentiments of a girlfriend that any of their girls can go to with any problems. Her door is always open, she’s always approachable with their problems. But try to fuck her over and you’ll find yourself on her Bad Side, and really, nobody wants that. Her temper is fierce when it’s invoked, and there is no quick way to bring it back down. Above all, she never ever mistreats their girls, but she has a low tolerance for bullshit, and even less for those who try to hide away an extra dollar that’s not part of their take.
History: Even back to her earliest memory, Roxelana was no man’s child. Born in the wild and cold end of the USSR and the heralding of a constant swing of change. Orphanages and the constant move from foster home to foster home was the rule of the day. Few were decent, far more were terrifying. There were always new people to deal with, new ‘families’ to try and find her place in, and the inevitable disgraceful return to the orphanage within a month with the excuse of “There’s just something not right.
Two months after her thirteenth birthday though, things took a drastic left turn. This time she wasn’t shuffled off with some couple smiling too brightly to be human with promises of her own room, brothers and sisters or any other thing else, oh no. This time terrifying old woman (Mother Serpent, they called her out of earshot), informed her she was too old to try and a find a home. Families wanted the adorable new baby experience, not the high spirited and occasionally foul tempered teenager that would be more trouble than she’s worth. No, this time instead she was shoved off into the backseat of a car without so much of a word or greeting by those who took her away, not anything at all for the long stretch that they traveled together despite Roxelana’s many questions and attempts to get either of the men to speak.
Here she wasn’t ushered into her own too pink bedroom, here she wasn’t given some pretty plush doll. Instead she was shoved off from her jailers to another, his face nearly hidden by the cloud of noxious cigar smoke. A finger chucked under her chin and black black eyes were all that she remembered before she was being moved again, this time shuffled to an overcrowded dormitory of other girls. Too many people and not enough space, she clung to her single bag and tried so very hard to figure out which way was up and how about to make her quickest exit yet. Roxelena-- now Scarlet, because Roxelana wasn’t pretty enough and Scarlet would draw their attention better, or so they said -- found herself lost in this new world.
Of course at the orphanage, they’d told horror stories of men who kidnapped kids in their sleep, of girls whisked off into harems and things and never heard from again. While this was hardly some fanciful story, Scarlet hadn’t quite realized she had found herself in the very blunt reality that was the dark underbelly of human trafficking. Lost in what she didn’t know as the Amsterdam’s Red Light District, Scarlet was caught up in the whirlwind of lessons and learning that left her eyes wide and her throat dry. The menial work was nothing new, if not down right nasty at times, but it was listening to the other girls and the things they had to say when they thought no one else was listening that kept her nerves on edge even as it helped her to get a firmer lay of the land. One by one, the girls she was bunked with were culled away, only to be rarely seen later with fairly dead look of despair and weariness that never seemed to go away.
Scarlet remained generally unscathed until she reached her biological womanhood, when then everything was whipped into chaos again. She had been brought before Him again, had been stripped down to nothing and put on parade. After that there was news of an auction, a prime piece going to the highest bidder. These things happened every so often, but never before had Scarlet been the center of all the attention. Oh she still had her work to do, but she was fussed over and creamed and cleaned and examined and all sorts of other things she would have happily done without. The Night came, and once again she was put on display, but rather than it just being Him, there was a room full of slavering beasts, all with their wallets out and their eyes devouring her beneath the gauzy poor excuse for clothes. After the initial fear took over, nothing else registered. She doesn’t remember losing piece by piece of clothing, she doesn’t remember calloused hands offering and displaying her wares. She doesn’t remember the cheers and jeers, nor the escort down a crimson lit hallway to await what would be the remainder of her days.
She does remember the middle-aged man with the beginning of pouch, she remembers the sausage fingers and how they dug into her thigh. She also remembers snapping back to reality and her heel kicking up to connect with his face, her prettily painted fingernails leaving blood in their wake as she scrambled to get away. The ensuing chaos thereafter left her more terrified then she had ever been in her life. Her highest bidder was infuriated and demanding remuneration, His underlings were dashing around, restraining her, caring after the guest of honor and trying to gloss over the entire incident, despite other girls and clientele peering out from nearby rooms and the gossip flying about like a fleeing virgin.
Dragged back before Him in her new rooms, temper and fear bled into one another as he raged and snarled at the girl, his hand whipping out to catch her cheek, fingers dug into her scalp as he pulled her up by her hair. How dare she do anything but what was decided for her to do! Higher and higher his ire seemed to rise, and hers only grew to match, though equally tempered by fear, loathing, and so many things mixed in between. He slammed her into the wall and cruel fingers gripped and bruised her fair skin as he sought to teach her a lesson, remind her of her place and that above all, what He wills, will be. But things didn’t play out such as he might have planned. As soon as her bare back met the cold, filthy wall, something snapped inside of her, something that had laid dormant all this time. Panic, fear, anger -- all of it boiled over into a blazing inferno that left her blinking against the brightness, afterimages making it difficult to see afterward. But it wasn’t a metaphorical inferno, but real tangible fire, licking and burning, engulfing the man and leaving Scarlet’s chilled flesh warm in it’s glow. Sliding to the floor in a state of shock, she watched him dance around like an enraged Rumpelstiltskin, but he never stopped. Where any other man would have dropped to the floor, dead and crisped, He raged and flew about the room, ignorant of her presence as she eventually scrambled away from the terrifying sight. Running into the soft pair of arms that were there should they be needed, she told Madam what had happened, hiccuped and choked as she tried to process all that had happened in such a short stretch of time.
She wasn’t aware of the specifics of what happened after Madam tucked a blanket around the shivering girl, nor did she ask. Nor did she ask as they whisked themselves out of Amsterdam under the guise of darkness, she, Madam and the other girls, settling themselves into a pleasant little establishment where Scarlet took the reigns of her existence for the very first time. She grew up far quicker in those first few years, learning things that were only spoken of under hushed breaths, and trying to grab a firm grasp of her new found power.
Any plot you’re thinking of: Nothing particularly of note as yet. A nice stretch of past plotting with the marvelous Catwo, and some of that can be used within the game as consequences of their previous actions, but mostly open for pretty much anything.