Username : Malhyanth
Time Zone : GMT
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Character Info
Name : Ivory Rosa Mirèio
Age : 11
Gender : Female
Appearance :
Smart/Function Outfit - Everyday/Casual Outfit - Outdoor Ware
Ivory is, clearly, a child with albinism. She was heralded as a very special child from birth, due to the beauty the albinism granted her. Her long white hair was marvelled at within her parent's upper class society, and her pale red eyes were considered a stunning attribute. She was treasured, more like an item then a child, and doted upon from a very young age. This made her a somewhat sickly child, as her parents, especially her mother, refused to allow her out of the house unless on social excursions, such as parties. This doting has given her many many special and beautiful outfits.
She is a very small child, even for her age standing only around the size of a 7 year old, little under 4 foot. She is said to grow a little more, but her doctors believed she may remain around 5 foot, even into adulthood. This led her mother to dote on her like a doll, and her life became a sort of fancy-dress game. Her pale skin means she needs to wear protective clothing whenever she is taken outside, a parasol often accompanying her wherever she goes, for fear of her porcelain skin being burnt beyond repair.
A few items that are new to her appearance are the bow in her hair, a gift she traded for herself with her father a year or so ago, and a very rare metal locket, given to her by her good friend and childhood sweetheart, Adam Fletcher, an unruly street urchin that she grew an affection for, as he treated her as he would any other child, bar being a little more... sensitive toward her.
Personality : Ivory is, without a doubt, a very two-sided little girl, but not in the way that would suggest a liar's quality, but rather, two sides of a coin that are so different to one another, dependant on the situation that she found herself in. Around her overly doting parents and other strangers, she is a very quiet, unaffectionate child that gives very little conversationally, and even less by way of answers in regard to herself. This is mainly due to the way she has been brought up, her mother talking for her a lot of the time, and she standing out on display, her mother's prized living doll. She didn't particularly like the finery she was given, and detested being the 'little lady' of the Mirèio family. She was the lone child, and as such, had to act is a particular way so as to impress the neighbours, and gain appeal and favour with their sons, who she may be married off to at a whim.
However, with her childhood sweetheart, Adam Fletcher, she is completely different. A smile always graces her face, flushed cheeks of embarrassment whenever she is paid a compliment, or just treated like a normal child. To her, he was the moon, the stars and the sun, all rolled into one street-wise kid that was willing to take this poor, home-bound child under his wing and show her the sights. Her large family estate within the city of Jaradin meant that she could often escape unnoticed for hours at a time, but her health would deteriorate every time, and her mother would scold her severely for leaving the walls of the mansion. She would be forced to stay in her bed for days on end after each excursion, and this grew in her a bitterness toward the finery of her world. She longed for the dirty streets, and the warmth of Adam's hand when they ran through the streets together. She wanted to be free, to be a child, and not a doll.
Keywords [5 Max]: Wild, restrained, shy, quiet, two-sided
History :
A beauty. That was what they had called her the minute she had been born. A marvel of genetics, though surely a mutation. Her parents had not cared. Her pale skin, so unblemished as to seem formed of living porcelain, eyes a soft pink as a baby, now a pale reddish hue that could stun even the most talkative of high-society woman into silence. She was, in their eyes, perfect. She was the prize possession of her materialistic mother, the apple of her silent father's eye. She was their only child - they needed no other. Her doctors made it clear that with her genetics, she may be a sickly child, and it seemed almost to be made a truth without even testing the theory, for she was seemingly wrapped within cotton-wool throughout her early childhood, her rooms always sparkling so that she would never be made sick by the dust and dirt of everyday. Whenever she was taken out as a child, her face was carefully covered in fine lace, so as to make the air purer for her to breathe - this, in affect, made her more susceptible to all the illnesses a small child could ever contract, and an early chest infection in Ivory stunted her growth and made her a thin child, causing illness and chest infections to become a common occurrence as she grew.
Time passed slowly for a child such as Ivory. Functions, dinner parties, home schooling, and occasional trips into the city that were closely guarded at all times made her life miserable. She was no child, and it was ruining her. She became bitter, and somewhat spoilt; she had no freedom to run and play as other children she saw from her bedroom windows, and it upset her. It was at the age of 6 she heard her first voice. A soft, comforting cooing, like that of her father's. It comforted her after a tough day, the pretty little doll of her mother's belonging at a function they had had to be at all day long. She had rebelled at the end, a screaming fit that left her gasping for breath and retching. She was tired of her mother's games, but was too young to express herself in such a manner. Her father had remained quiet throughout her mother's pressing and eventual slap to the hysterical child's face. Ivory's father escorted his stunned daughter and weeping wife from the house party, and they were driven home by their man-servant. Her father. The ever quiet giant of their house; solitary by nature, as revealed by his amur leopard Daemon, a majestic creature that stalked the halls of their grand home with her father, and always had a kind word for the Daemon-less girl that was as much a part of her as her human.
Her eighth birthday heralded a change in Ivory's monotonous life. She had been granted a birthday party within the City's most prestigious patisserie, and her mother had invited a lot of people that Ivory did not know. This upset the girl. She had hoped it would just be the three of them, as they had done little as a singular family in a long time, and it had been her wish to be able to talk to her father, after weeks of seeing very little of him, whilst he had travelled across the country, his business, some sort of book collection specialist, had not permitted him to remain at home. She fled the cafe and ran the streets, tearing off her bonnet, shawl and outer skirts, to make herself lighter, and thus run faster. She lost her parents in the market, and also lost herself, finding herself in a part of the city she had never been in before. She fled all City Guards, their ringing bells, and calls of 'Ivory'. She entered deeper into the territory of the homeless and the poor. It was here she started to cry. She was very lost, and must have upset a lot of people. She was afraid to return home, and sat in an alley, tears streaking her dirtied face.
Adam Fletcher. That had been his name. His voice had rung clear as the sun was setting, and he and his street-wise friends had rounded the corner into the alley and spotted the pure white hair cascading around a thin frame, huddled in the dirt and the dust. They had been cautious to approach - this child was new to this area, and who knew what was wrong with it. Adam stepped forward, and jabbed a finger at the quivering shoulder of the girl that cried silently into her knees. The large pink eyes that were turned on him were pleading, and his imagination captured then. The other boys joked and jibbed them, but Adam, being the clear leader, soon silenced them. They ran off laughing.
Adam listened to her story, and promised to take her home. He took her little hand, and together they walked through the streets, Ivory snivelling, Adam's jaw set in a determined scowl. As they neared the mansion Ivory lived in, bells rung out, and the two were forcefully wrenched apart, Adam flung to the side as Ivory was swept up by her father into a massive hug, her mother weeping beside her. It was from there their friendship blossomed. Adam would sneak to Ivory's home and pelt stones at her window until she answered, and they would sneak out of the house and into the city. The once cold and bitter girl started to blossom into a smiling, affectionate girl around Adam, and only him, showing her smile to only one other person, that being her father. Their excursions would last the day, and at sunset, Ivory would return home to a mother that was worried sick, and she would be confined to her room, where she would often become sick after their trips. Ivory cared not, though. She loved her escapes, and the sickness after was just a side-note to the fun and laughter that would be released from her chest.
On her 10th birthday, Ivory snuck out of her house early, and fled to the meeting point where Adam was waiting for her. She embraced him, smiling widely, exclaiming the day, and that she was to enter her tenth year. Adam smiled nervously, and stuck out his fist, a small chain dangling from it. Ivory's pale red eyes widened, and she accepted the gift. A small, metal-work locket. She cared not where he had gotten it, all she cared was that he had given it her. She hugged him fiercely, trying to squeeze him so hard they became one. It was the most special gift she had ever received. It had meaning to it, and she appreciated the sentiment more then any of her refined clothing or accessories her mother was always doting on her. This locket... this locket was special! She worked the lock, and within it was a small folded up slip of paper. Upon it, were the worlds 'Adam and Ivory; Friends Forever' in Adam's scruffy, poorly formed handwriting. She folded it up deliberately and carefully and placed it back inside, closing it, and placing it to her lips. Friends forever.
As she returned home later that morning, it was to frantic panic and fuss once again. The locket was snatched from her, labelled stolen and diseased. Ivory went into a rage. She knocked things to the ground, pummelled her chest and head with her tiny fists until the locket was given back to her. It was then her mother announced she was to be incarcerated into a boarding school, to stop her from seeing the filthy wretch that stole her from the house so often. Ivory screamed for it not to be so, begged her father not to let it happen, but he remained silent, as ever. The next day, she was packed and forced to leave.
It was on that trip her Daemon manifested. A soft creamy ginger glow, and that deep, soft voice, like her father's spoke to her.
'Be not afraid, child. I am here. We will not be separated.'
So began her time in the all girl's school. She was teased and bullied for her small size and obscure looks, so different to the other girls. Her Daemon started to manifest more and more, and soon, she was no longer able to stay with the other girls. Her temper became short, and she would lash out in a most un-lady-like fashion. It was suggested to her parents that, despite her young age of only 11 years, she should be sent to Jaradin College for those with Daemon Manifestations. There was little the girl's preparatory could do for her. Her parents agreed, and so, she was moved once more, Ivory herself pleased to be out of that school. With her, her Daemon, and her ever burning desire to seek out Adam once more, and tell him how sorry she was for disappearing.
