D'ALLEMAGNE, aurélie

[aurélie d'allemagne]

aurélie elise d'allemagne
o-ray-LEE

[/b][/color][/size] A Miss Aurélie Elise d’Allemagne-Spencer at the dear age of sixteen has found herself upon the most curious of situations - entering into London's most tantilizing gossip. "[/i][/color][/font][/size][/ul][/blockquote]

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W R I T E R .

name: briiiiiianna!
RP experience: before the dinosaurs!
how did you find us?: I turned around and bam! there it was
age: two and a zero
gender: a lady

P O R T R A I T .

eye color: grey
hair color: light brown
height: 5’ 7”
body type: slim
distinguishing features: nose, cheekbones, scar on back of neck (from an accident while working)
fashion style:

M A N N E R S .

profession: she once was a scullery maid, as well as sold flowers on the street but now she is of no profession.

adoration for:

distaste for:

dreams:

fears:

secrets:

main:

P A S T .

family:

[/i], maid, mother[/ul]
main:

[/i][/font]

Her mother had never revisited the topic and Aurélie had never asked again. But now she had a slight sorrow to her with the new knowledge that she had a father, he was alive – somewhere. But he didn’t love them enough to stay.

But her life went on – the two of them lived a decent life together (besides a few cockroaches) in their two-room flat. As soon as she could walk, she helped her mother and her mother’s friends sell flowers and sweets out on the streets of London for a couple pence each. Her youth allowed them to gain more profit, and as she grew older her beauty gave them even more. However, that was when she had the time. For the most part she was a scullery maid at the Kensington household, alongside her mother. Although she hated the aristocratic family she worked for, she enjoyed the gentle hours of the day with her mother, washing pans or at times, cleaning in the main wing of the manor longing for the things she took her dust rag to.

As a member of the working-class society, Aurélie took pleasure in the little things to get her by. Working alongside her mother, warm bread and butter on Sundays, delicate pastel dresses in store windows, a blue-green stone she found alongside the Thames, and Auguste Briggs. There had never been a moment when she couldn’t remember Auguste being there. She had grown up with him as her neighbor, the two of the gallivanting across the cobblestone roads on another adventure of theirs. As they grew up, the games lessened, but their friendship never waned. She had never realized what more they could have had.

She did, however, begin to notice men and the way they looked at her while she went on her errands. She liked it a little, but was also fearful of their lecherous stares. Some men, especially around the docks and three fingered jack’s did more than just stare, attempting to lure her with their whistles and taunts all the while attempting to make a grab for her skirts with a flirtatious squeeze. She allowed no man to get further than that, as her honor was hers and hers alone to choose whom to give it to. Unlike the aristocratic women Aurélie served for, it was accepted for girls to sleep with a man before marriage, as long as the man would be the one in the end. So she was waiting, waiting for that “one” to come along and find her.

It was this awful hope that made her believe a handsome, smiling gentleman in an expensive silk waistcoat and suit would have been the one to love her. He was of an upper-class family, though he never told her his name she could tell by his manner of air that he was, from her time spent amongst the Kensington family. She had never found out where he was going that evening, when he smiled so beautifully at her. His expensive cologne brushed against her senses, flipping her stomach several times over as he neared closer, ensnaring the corner of her silk head scarf between his two slender fingers. After the rest of the evening of soft whispers in the warm bask of twilight, and fleeting trails of fingers against skin, Aurélie had been quick to believe he would take her out of the slums and better her and her mother’s life. He would be the one. He would love her enough.

In the middle of the night, after she had given herself over and he lay next to her sleeping, she pulled the thin sheet tight across her bare, hollow chest and stared to the gray wall and wept. It hadn’t been what she had imagined it to be, the emptiness filling her a sign that something was amiss. When she awoke that morning and saw only the imprint of his head into the pillow beside her, she realized her fears had been confirmed. She had given away the one thing that was hers in her self-sacrificing life to someone she had and would never know.

She moved on changed; more realistic, a bitter edge to her sweet-nature, her innocence all but gone. She kept to her job at the Kensington house, and continued selling flowers and sweets on the streets, hoping from the depths of her heart that she would never lay eyes on the boy who stole so much from her.

She thought that was how life would continue, just her mother and her and their little flat. No man in her life had stayed around for her, but her mother had always been there. Their love allowing Aurélie the hope that perhaps one day she would finally find someone that would stay. But again, fate dealt her a cruel hand. Within two days, her mother went from her rosy complexion to ghastly pale and doubled over in pain. She died quickly, Cholera being the perpetrator. Her mother had emigrated from France when she was young, and there were no relatives to speak of. Except one.

The first time she met her father, she had been wearing her dress from the funeral as they had only allowed her enough time to gather a few things from home after the services before bringing her to her father. He was Lord Charles Robert Spencer, the 6th Earl of Spencer, and one of the wealthiest men in London. His home was like the Kensington estate she used to clean, lavish and ornate. He had been sitting at his mahogany desk, going over several stacks of papers, his mustache neatly combed and graying hair slicked back. When he did see her at last, he quickly looked up, not bothering to move, and appraised her like cattle or some other investment. He then returned his gaze to his stacks of papers, waving the maid and her away with a flourish of his hand. But it had been long enough for Aurélie to realize that it was no mistake, he was her father for his gray eyes matched her own all too well.

Her mother had been a maid of his some time ago, and they had had a brief affair, Aurélie’s mother’s pregnancy the cause for its end. He had given her a small portion of money and told her he never wanted to see her, or the child, again. Unfortunately, his heart was soft enough to take in Aurélie after her mother’s death but that was all his heart allowed. He hardly ever spoke, or saw her. Though he made sure everything was taken care of with her adjustments into the family. Her entire wardrobe was taken away and burned, though she managed to salvage her favorite silk scarf. She started on teachings of all manners of speaking, etiquette, dining, and dancing. Although now she looked and acted the part, she was far from ever being truly accepted into the society she had been so forcefully thrown into. Her step-brother and sisters stayed away from her, and gave her hateful glances whenever they could. Especially the youngest, Emily, who was younger than Aurélie, and thus fact that their father had had the affair before Emily was born. She held a particular vengeance towards Aurélie. Her step-mother refused to even look at her, denying her presence altogether. When out in society, the secret of Aurélie’s past that was supposed to have stayed a secret soon became the thing everyone whispered about when she passed. She was never asked to dance at balls, and frequently shunned with hissing whispers and reproachful eyes. She grew up being the one ignored by everyone above her station, but all too soon became the center of attention in a most unwanted way.

As time has passed, Aurélie has been able to show her worth to these people of high privilege with her intellect and quick wit. She’s been asked to dance a few times at social gatherings, although she has become the unwanted one, the bastard child. And at every social gathering, she bates her breath in terror that she will see the boy who stole what she should have never given him. Although, in one moment of interaction from her father who demanded she never return to lower London for fear of social scandal amongst other consequences, she still often does though she hasn’t seen Auguste since her mother has died. She doesn’t believe in love for herself anymore, she knows it exists – just not for her. Not now at least.[/ul]

E T C .

play-by: sigita nedzvecka
password:
rp sample:
”This heart will catch, and it will burn.” Leni Zumas[/blockquote][/size]