Post by goldenrodprince on Sept 25, 2008 21:26:22 GMT -5
Lyrics from 'Sweet Blossom' - Émilie Simon
My blossoms are falling
What a strange feeling
When it's so early in the year
Name: Priscilla Davoir (that's 'day-vwa')
Alias: Prissy, Ms. Davoir
Gender: Incognito and quite happy.
Age: 22
Species: Uni
Occupation: Mobster/Entertainer/Female Impersonator
As soon as they are flowers
They go and leave forever
Sweet blossom...
Orientation: Bisexual
Status: *mumbles quietly to himself*
Love: *coughs*
Offspring: None
Where is your tree?
Personality: At first glance, Priscilla is shy, soft-spoken and a little too flirtatious for his own good. He speaks more of France than is probably necessary - though quite a few people are known to raise an eyebrow at his fanciful costume and this is an adequate explanation. Once he warms up to you, however, Priscilla is quite clearly all man. Granted, he can't hold his liquor very well and complains about the smallest things, but he further harms his ladylike facade with an almost crude sense of humor and a disturbing tendency to get very, very violent when provoked. He's witty and scathingly clever sometimes, though he has a shamefully short attention span and most conversations with him are one long, constant battle to stay on topic.
They are too far from here now
They'll never come back
Autumn ain't springtime, I guess
Appearance: Priscilla reeks of cheap perfume and general "woman"smell. His face is plastered with a whole rainbow of blushes, mascara so dark it makes India ink seem pale, and enough eyeshadow - painstakingly blended with hours of work - to make even the greatest of divas jealous. His figure is slim, not too terribly tall but long-legged, almost lanky, clothed in various shades of blue and pink. Despite his best attempts to hide it, nothing he tried could trim his shoulders and face - and nearly everything hiding under that shimmery top of his(and it isn't much) is far from natural. Despite this, he is, in essence, completely woman save for whats lying underneath his skirts. I mention this only because it would take a careful observer, magical or otherwise, to decipher his true sex - unless, of course, you manage to catch him in the bath/bed/wherever going au naturel - which happens about as often as pigs fly, as he's ridiculously secretive.
The seasons are lazy,
It's driving me crazy
Sweet blossom...
Where is your tree?
Fur: Dark Navy Blue
Markings: Five stripes on hindquarters, two stripes on both front legs and right hind leg, one long stocking on back left leg, blaze. (pink)
Eyes: Brown (moderately nearsighted)
Hooves: Pink
Hair: Long, fine and sky blue.
Wings: Fashioned out of long, bleached ostrich feathers with the tips dyed alternating shades of blue and pink.
Their hapiness will shine
Their hapiness will grow
And I hope you don't mind if I...let them go
History: Priscilla was born in Avignon, France, to a cheerful couple who worked in the silk industry. The two had been married for several years but held off on children due to his father's belief that they did not have the means to care for a child. As the silk industry sways often, Priscilla was conceived in a time of prosperity, but born on absolutely dreadful monetary standings in early April. The family fell on times harder still, his father turning to the expensive - and potentially addictive - wormwood extract known in the streets and bars as absinthe. This condition deteriorated as he became almost senile, sputtering and snarling and yelling at his wife and child on a nightly basis. Priscilla learned then to do exactly what he was told, and immediately, lest he get a face full of belt or worse yet, the very drink his father had fallen prey to. Being little over the age of fourteen he briefly considered running away, but his father's sudden death in a late night binge and what may have turned into a very nasty fight between father and son kept him tethered to his home. He grieved with his mother, but only out of respect rather than love. Only when his mother turned to liquor as well did he find the courage to leave her there alone, in their modest home in France, and stake out a living elsewhere. He wandered for years, eventually winding up in the States and, more specifically, Chicago. To say he was essentially picked up off the streets by Mr. VonDrake is not essentially true - as he had a job, money and a place to live - but he was grateful for the opportunity and snatched it up as soon as it was offered. Violence, he claims, was not part of the deal - but he knows otherwise, of course. After all, besides violence, what does a lonely little girl in a big, bad city have going for her?
My blossoms are falling
What a strange feeling
When it's so early in the year
Pet: Yvette is Priscilla's mildly overweight, incredibly spoiled Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. She's often seen lounging about in Priscilla's lap or preening like a cat(also running from the two bar cats, Gin and Tonic), with a pink rhinestone collar and more clothes than her owner. She's not very fond of the other canines involved in the entire operation, nor does she appreciate being held by anyone other than Priscilla himself. She is roughly just as clever as her master, but they share the same short attention spans. Her name is pronounced 'eeh-VET' and she will usually not respond when called as 'yeh-VET' or any variant thereof. If she does respond, consider yourself incredibly lucky.
As soon as they are flowers
They go and leave forever
Sweet blossom...
Where is your tree?