Post by zephyris12 on Nov 17, 2014 17:42:19 GMT -5
DESCHAMPS, EMILIE C.
I'M WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST
I'M WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST
I Wipe My Brow And I Sweat My Rust
Full Name: Emilie Claire Deschamps (day-SHAW[n] ((The n is pronounced with a nasal tone)))
Alias: Emilie, Em
Age: 18 years old
Occupation Before the Apocalypse: Barista at Starbucks
Hometown: Originally from Rouen, France, lived in Decatur, Georgia
Weapon of Choice: Her white katana
I'M BREAKING IN, SHAPING UP
This is it, the apocalypse
Hair Color Style and Length: Her hair is long, blonde, and straight. She usually leaves it uncut, hanging in a braid or in a long ponytail. However, since the apocalypse, she began to cut it to about her mid chest region.
Eye Color: Her eyes are a light blue-grey with flecks of olive green due to the sectoral heterochromia.
Body Type and Height: She is rather short, standing at 5'4" in height. Begin athletic as she is, she is rather lean and thin, with a slightly pear shaped body type. Her hips are slightly wider than her breasts, and her breasts and waist are about the same width.
Clothing Type: She generally wears the basics, a t-shirt and jean shorts with converse. When she is not wearing that, she is likely to be found wearing cargo pants for scavenging and light boots.
Marks and Scars: She was born with a small beauty mark under her left eye, and she has a few small scars on her legs and arms from handling her katana carelessly. (more to come)
Faceclaim: Kirsten Prout
I'M WAKING UP
I Feel It in My Bones, Enough To Make My Systems Blow
Likes: Kendo, French cooking, travel, hair styling, socializing, driving, family, confrontation
Dislikes: Backseat drivers, awkward conversations, l'esprit de l'escalier (coming up with a good comeback after an argument), confrontation, French stereotypes
Strenths: Emilie has good social demeanor, is very confident when it comes to people, and is able to quickly take charge in a situation. She is adept with her katana, but unfortunately, is not the best at scouting. She is quick to think and can handle confrontation in a variety of forms. She is good at keeping up morale and giving people hope.
Fears: Dying and turning, being alone, starving, not finding her mother
Goals: To find her mother in Massachusetts, to survive and keep those she loves safe
I RAISE MY FLAG, DON MY CLOTHES
It's a Revolution I Suppose
Family: She has a mother, named Maryse, a father named Alain, and two brothers, Jacques and Remy. Maryse is thirty-five, Alain is forty-one, Jacques is ten, and Remy is eight. At the onset of the outbreak, her father and brothers were killed after being trapped at a superstore. Her mother, who was studying aeronautical engineering at Harvard, was trapped on campus and (unbeknownst to Em) formed a group and is currently leading.
Her mother is a very polite, proper women, originally intending to study fashion design at L'école de la Chambre Syndicale in the heart of Paris, where she was raised. Maryse was born to a wealthy family of fashion designers within Paris, and was sent to a rich all-female boarding school. That was when she met her husband, Alain, a little street tough from Nord-pas-de-Calais. He snuck onto the campus when she eighteen, and they began their little affair. When they got old enough, they married.
How Many Walkers Have They Killed?: Around one hundred.
How Many People Have They Killed?: She had to kill a few friends out of mercy killing, after they were ambushed by walkers. Their coward of a leader abandoned them in a graveyard, resulting in the deaths of his whole group, save Emilie, including his daughter. She hunted him down and killed him, and she also had to kill a guy she met at a motel in Georgia by the name of Rhett.
Why?: The friends because they had been bitten, including Rhett. She killed the leader who abandoned them because he got almost all of them killed.
History: Emilie was born in Rouen, France, in June 1996. As a child, she was happy and healthy, making regular trips to the cafes to buy croissants and milk with her mother, or on a good day, pain au chocolat. As a child, she enjoyed school and had a few friends. However, she really loved to watch her mom cook. She picked up on some of these skills herself.
Shortly after her eighth birthday, her parents decided to move to the United States so they could pursue a worthwhile education in their chosen fields. Her father wanted to go to college to study neurobiology, and her mother had been accepted to Harvard to study aeronautics and space engineering, or in shorter terms, rocket science. Her mother was pregnant with Jacques at the time, and he was birthed just a month after Emilie's eighth birthday. They had settled down in the little town of Decatur Georgia. After Jacques was born, Alain gave up his dream of neurobiology in order to become a stay at home father. He still pursued it as a hobby when not caring for little Jacques and Emilie.
At age ten, Emilie began to be interested in all things samurai. She loved watching old Japanese samurai movies, and even the not so Japanese ones. Her favorite, Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, got her interested in practicing kendo, as the movie encouraged her that it was for anyone to try. So her parents agreed to allow Emilie to practice kendo classes, even though they were very expensive (yeah, that's right, because she wanted to). She had practiced with a miniature wooden bokken for six years, until her parents bought her a beautiful, pristine white katana for her sixteenth birthday. She was elated, and had never felt happier in her life. She used the sword in all her exhibitions and for ceremonial purposes, and even placed first in the small regional tournament hosted by her dojo.
Things really started to pick up in high school, however. Her true passion, practicing kendo, was swept to the side and waylaid by her need to achieve in school. As a native French person, she was raised to treat every teacher with respect and strive for excellence in school, putting education before all else. Even though it was not this way in American schools (she had trouble not standing when the teacher entered the room, and was even made fun of for it), she still strove for excellence in her education. She had to drop out of her kendo classes, causing her sensei to lose his star pupil and causing Emilie to be greatly depressed. She was also getting used to the added weight American teenagers had on their shoulders, having to get a job. She began to work as a barista at the Starbucks near her home.
Every time she would walk in the room and see her katana, it was a painful reminder of her favorite past time and how the responsibility of growing up had pushed it to the side. However, little did she know she would actually need it. The week after the outbreak went global, she was stuck in her house, attempting to cook dinner for her brother Remy's eighth birthday. They had remained in their house for the week, and supplies were running low. Even in spite of the recent outbreak, Emilie tried to make it a special day for her brother. Her father even tried to chance the grocery store, in order to get supplies and maybe snag little Remy a gift. However, when they got there, unbeknownst to Emilie, they were all bitten and killed. The store was completely taken over and trashed in a futile attempt to keep out the walkers. What was meant to keep them out only held them in, and her father and brothers were both killed on the inside.
Emilie, not knowing their whereabouts, went to investigate and found much to her dismay that they had all perished. Here, she met a lone, pick-wielding girl named Kat, who saved Emilie from a herd of walkers, which were drawn by the shots used to put down her father and Remy. Kat informs Emilie that Jacques was apparently separated from Remy and Alain and had perished as well, only to be killed by Kat's pick.
Together, they began to journey the Georgian state, meeting many people and falling in with many groups, only to have them all perish. They eventually, in an attempt to find Emilie's mother in Massachusetts, but became disoriented and ended up in Ohio. They fell in with a group who killed each other over the last of the rations, and one of the only remaining members of the group took Emilie and Kat with him to Houston, Texas. However, she and Kat had a falling out and he kicked them out with only a few bullets and cans to their name. Emilie stumbled upon a group in Houston and fell in with them.
OOC: I haven't decided what to do with Kat, she may be a charrie of mine and she may not.
ALL SYSTEMS GO, THE SUN HASN'T DIED
Deep in My Bones, Straight From Inside
Your Alias/Nickname: Gabe
RP Experience: A few years
RP Sample: The road to the superstore was a long one. She hadn't encountered any walkers, but her katana was unsheathed just in case. The sun was beating down on her, and between that and the walking, she started to sweat. Her long, blonde hair wasn't helping either, so she tied it into a ponytail. The streets were empty and it was so quiet, and she was so scared. God, how she wished she could get her hands on the jerk that siphoned her gas!!
As she continued walking, she heard the sound of something hitting a chain link fence. She turned her head and saw in horror as three walkers, none of them any older than six years of age, began to grab the fence and snarl loudly. Their tiny hands fit through the chain links perfectly, and their fingers made desperate attempts to grab at her through the fence as if she were 2 inches away, when in reality she was 30 feet away. She walked up to them and couldn't hold back the tears that pooled in her eyes. As they began to stream down her face, she grabbed one of the kid's hands. It's fingers locked with hers with surprising strength. She stared into his blank, emotionless eyes through the cold fence. It was just so awful, that a walker wouldn't even spare a tiny child. The virus would take anyone, whether it be a loving, carefree child, or a wisened, kind 92 year old man.
"I'm so sorry that this had to happen to all of you. You didn't deserve this. You shouldn't have to live like this." she said, tearing up again. "I know that if this were my brother, he wouldn't want to become one of them. One of you. Je suis desolee, et repose en paix, les petits. Rest in peace, little ones." She thrusted her katana through the fence, right into the mouth of the little kid. His grip instantly loosened on her hand, his arm pulled back through the fence, and a loud thud sounded as he hit the ground. It was over for him. She stared blatantly at the two remaining girls. One of them, Margaret, she had babysat just a few days ago. She started to think about being at Margaret's house, playing with Barbies and watching movies. The more she saw of this stuff, the less hope she had. She had never anticipated that she would see this kind of misery. She tearfully closed her eyes, looked away, and drove her katana into the head of little Margaret. The third walker was even harder for her. These three kids, probably abandoned, left to their own devices, never could've lasted long on their own. Who ever left these kids alone took away from them their safety, their hope, their life. As she finished off the third walker, she stopped for a second, just for a mere moment and closed her eyes. She registered a cooling breeze blowing across her sunkissed skin, and she welcomed the feeling. She began to return to a world where her family was reunited, everything was normal. Only for a moment...
The first feeling that registered when she was grabbed was panic. Sheer terror and adrenaline coursed through her veins as every muscle in her body contorted and contracted to get away from what ever had grabbed her, from whatever threatened to kill her. She felt the cold fingers pressing down into her shoulders, and she twisted and shoved it away from her. She had gotten away, but the walker, a middle aged man, muscled and toned to perfection, stripped her of her katana. She tried punching it in the stomach, kicking him in the crotch, but nothing would work. It didn't seem to faze him. He was so vicious, so bent on sinking his teeth into her neck, so bloodthirsty and hungry. He shambled toward her with spastic, irregular movements. His flannel plaid shirt was ripped and torn, and the huge bite was clearly visible on his left arm. One of his shoes was halfway off, untied and dragging on the ground. Another bite left a large hunk of muscle missing from his right calf muscle, and he was covered in blood and pus. Who knows how many times or how recently he had fed? One thing was for sure though, he smelled. Bad. He got to her just as she was turning to run, and seized hold her hair, pulling her roughly toward him. Emilie tried to free his fingers so she could reach her katana, but his hand was locked tightly in her beautiful golden tresses. Wherever his hand touched her hair, smears of crimson tainted its seemingly blissful elegance. Here was Emilie Claire Deschamps, stuck in a life and death struggle, unarmed, and about to become one of the walking dead. She began to think of how she had failed her father, Jacques, little Remy. Then she remembered the gun...
She reached down to her waist, her hands fumbling at the holster that held her salvation captive. After what seemed like ages, the clasps came undone with a gratifying snap and she raised her gun. The walker's teeth were just at her neck when she stuck the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He still kept coming, must not have been a direct hit on the brain. She pulled it again. His strength began to falter, and she knew he was dead, but she pulled it a third time just to be sure. He expired and fell to the ground, pulling her down on top of him.
"Oh my God.. Oh my God.." she panted, trying to fully grasp what just happened. She took a minute to calm down and untangle the walker's fingers from her hair, and tend to the scrape she got while falling down. She began to work through everything that had just happened. I was attacked. He grabbed me by my hair. He took my katana. I shot him in the head. 3 times. As she went through the list, she made mental notes of little things that she could do better. Keep my hair up, so it's not grabbable. Don't waste ammo. When you think it's dead, make sure with your foot. Find a way to keep my katana firmly attached. She got up and wiped her nose, and began to walk shakily in the direction of the superstore.
Emilie wiped the sweat off of her forehead, wandering tiredly on her two aching feet. She gripped her hair, now hard with the walker's dried blood, and coiled it into a tight chignon. Nothing was grabbing that. She frowned, however, at her lack of bobby pins, causing the bun to fall loosely to the base of her neck. She took out two hairbands and tried to make it work. No luck. She would just have to pick up some bobby pins in the store. Then she remembered the pencil she had in her pocket from doing her biology homework earlier that morning. She pulled it out and twisted her hair into the same tight bun, but this time she bound the end of her hair to the pencil with the hairband. She coiled it and stuck the pencil through the rest of the bun, forming a tight twist. She rounded the final corner and turned into the parking lot of the huge Wal-Mart. She stared in horror at the scene that was before her. Several overturned cars barricaded the entrance and cover the parking lot. Spray paint on one of the cars warned any people who saw it to "turn around or die." The parking lot looked deserted, except for a few walkers scattered around. Then again, she couldn't see much over the stacks of cars, shelves, and other jumbled items. She found a small opening through one of the cars, smeared with blood. The front seat was dripping with blood, and a trail of gore led away from the car and led behind a cart corral. She squeezed through, and was confronted with yet another spray-painted message, which read : "The dead always win."
No sooner had she placed her foot on the blistering asphalt than something grabbed her foot from underneath the car. She jumped back in panic, before seeing that it was only the torso of a young woman. It was missing any part of it's body below the collarbone, And only had one arm. She set her attention on a car that was only a few feet away, where the rest of the woman's body lay jammed under another inverted car. She pulled back in sudden alarm, drew her katana, and chopped it in the head. The walker's grip on her leg loosened. She shook it's hand free. She saw a figure hobbling in the distance. It looked vaguely familiar, so she drew her blade and approached it cautiously. She watched in dread and despair as the walker turned around, revealing to her the fate of her father. He began to snarl and shuffle toward her.
"Oh no, please, no, oh God no!! Daddy!! No, no, no, no, no!!" Emilie wailed, her tears choking in her throat. She began to sob and her voice began to falter, fading away with each cry of desperation. She found herself unable to form words, only able to make choked sounds and cry loudly. She pulled out her katana with a loud shing sound. "I'm sorry I was ever mean to you. I'm sorry I wasn't the best child you've ever had." she sobbed, moving slowly away from what was once her father. He followed her every move, showing no hesitation in trying to make a meal of her.
"But I'm here for you now, I'm here daddy, I'm here. I promise, I'll live up to your memory. I'll never let you go, Daddy. I love you!" She bawled as she sent her katana through his head. He fell down and she fell with him, crying and holding on to her father. She pushed herself up, and turning around, was met with another terrifying sight. There, among a group of walkers, was a small child. "Oh, no, God, not Remy. NO!!" she screamed, dropping to her knees. She let him come to her, and when he reached her, she picked him up and placed him on her lap. He was reaching and grasping for her, his hands tounching her face and head, her shoulders and arms. She pulled out her pistol, and put it to his head. "I love you Remy!" she cried as she pulled the trigger. His blood coated her face and he fell to the ground. She picked up his body and gave it one last hug before setting him gently down.
She pounded her fists on the ground in anguish, grief already beginning to set in. When she looked up, she was greeted with the sight of a twenty or so walkers converging upon her. The parking lot had seemed empty. Then she realized that most of them must have been obscured by the piles of cars. She was ready to give up. Her father was dead, Remy was dead, Jacques was most likely dead, and she had no way of knowing whether or not her mother had survived at all. She threw up her gun and screamed. She only had 7 bullets left, and there were at least 20 walkers. She took out 7 of them, and just as they crowded around her, They began to mysteriously disappear. She saw a figure in a hoodie wielding an ice pick. The figure took out the last of them using their gun and pick. The person helped Emilie up. She pulled down her hood and said cheerfully, "Hi, I'm Kat."