Name: Evette Rossen
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Eve definitely attracts stares with her platinum blonde hair and flawless ivory skin. Her crystal blue eyes sparkle every time she smiles, which unfortunately isn’t so much in recent times. She is on the taller side, but not enough to stand out, and thin, but healthily so. Track and pole vaulting has kept her fit, despite her terrible eating habits. She wears a pink ribbon tied around either her neck or hair, a gift from her boyfriend.
Attire: Eve wears pink because pink is her favorite color, and black because someone once told her it brought out her eyes. Everything she wears incorporates those two colors in some way, shape, or form. Her usual is a pink dress or skirt and a black top, and the pink ribbon of course.
Arcana: Death
Weapon: A simple metal pole-vaulting pole. Light, fast, deadly. Eve needs to be constantly in motion when fighting, and her weapon reflects that need. She uses the recoil from her crushing blows to launch herself through the air. Turns out feeling the impact from metal hitting bodies is a great way of relieving stress.
Eve was like a beacon of light who couldn’t help but brighten any room she walked into. Everyone was her friend, and she didn’t even know what it was like to have someone not like her. Anyone who didn’t immediately love her, she would just steamroll until they did. Hate, jealously, and all the nastiness of life just seemed to hit a wall and bounce off of her. She was actually quite smart, but tended not to act it, instead going along with what others said without a care in the world. It was a common occurrence for her friends to have to point out that she couldn’t agree with every opinion at the same time, and she’d agree. She had a boyfriend, Ian Raster, whom she loved completely, and her daily public displays of affection were seen as a source of entertainment for the entire school populous. Ian would pretend to be surprised and embarrassed each time, but he really did enjoy it. Whatever Eve felt or did, she put herself into it one hundred and ten percent.
Recently, she’s become an entirely different person. Instead of lighting up a room, she pulls the entire mood down just by walking in. She doesn’t smile, she doesn’t laugh, and she barely talks even to her closest friends. She’s still one of the brightest of her class, but whereas before she just brushed it off as nothing important, now it is the only surviving part of her character, and her effortless answers in classes only isolate herself further from those around her. The Eve of today is a shell of her former self. She simply can’t bring herself to care about anything or anyone. When she’s home and alone she lets her emotions out, being either tears or screams, punching the teddy bear that Ian got her so much that she’s had to sew it back together a dozen times. After a short absence, she did continue showing up for track and pole vaulting, and despite not practicing for a while, she has broken all of her previous records. They seem to be the only things she puts an effort into nowadays.
Evette’s family has some money, and by some I really mean a whole lot. Her mother is a violinist and a painter, and she taught Eve art and music from a young age. Her father is the CEO of a large banking company, and to say he knows money is putting it lightly. It’s a miracle that Eve didn’t grow up to be a spoiled little brat.
Throughout school she was always the popular girl; not one of the popular girls, but the popular girl. When it came to being the center of attention, no one even came close. Teachers loved her because she was so smart and well-behaved, boys liked her because… boys, and girls didn’t hate her because she was everyone’s friend. Well, a few might have hated her, but Eve remained blissfully ignorant to their existence. Eve always told people that she wanted to be a fashion designer, and she stuck to that. In the margins of all of her notebooks from elementary to high school are filled with pencil sketches of nothing but clothes. She’s just recently gotten calls from different clothing lines that want her to design for them, but those calls have remained unanswered.
She was in her high school’s band, playing the flute, and used to play violin with her mother at home. Her junior year of high school, she won the school talent competition by singing a song she wrote while playing the piano. No one else even came close. She didn’t enter it the next year because she said that it would be unfair to win twice. Her classmates asked her to speak at the graduation ceremony, but she turned it down. Something about nerves or embarrassment, not like either ever got in her way before.
No one was surprised when she was accepted into the college of her choice except Eve, but she overreacted to most things. If she hadn’t gotten in, Eve’s mother probably would have mailed a few death threats right then and there. Thankfully that wasn’t necessary. University life wasn’t much different than normal for Eve; everyone still liked her, her brain was still working good, and she still worked hard at becoming a fashion designer. The unregulated access to food was something new for her, and she took full advantage of it. If it had ever walked, jumped, flown, swam, grown, or gathered from the ether of space, been put through a food processor and crammed into a box, she would eat it. The one thing she did stop doing that she had done was practicing music, instead wisely deciding to join an athletic club. The decision was less her own and more the scale’s but either way, it happened. She’d never been into sports, so she started with something simple: running. Now that she’s stopped eating everything in sight the running is less about keeping in shape and more just because she enjoys doing it. The next year, after finding that she quite liked track, she joined pole vaulting. She was okay at both, but nothing noteworthy. It was only after the accident that she started breaking records.
Eve’s first year at the University, in a Classic Literature class of all things, she met Ian Raster. His goal was to be an author. He didn’t just want to write stories though; his goal was to write stories that would be retold and taught about long after he was gone. He wanted to make characters that the world would remember among the great heroes and villains of history. He got so passionate about it whenever anyone asked him about his dream. Eve was just taking the class to fill up her schedule, but he saw it as a way to learn about the people who he had to be better than. They were such an odd pair, and in the same breath, everyone saw that they were perfect with the other. A year after meeting for the first time, they moved in together. It was a small apartment, close to the school, and it barely had anything in it, but it was the happiest place in the entire world. The only extra piece of furniture was a heavy wooden writing desk that Ian sat at every night as he worked on writing his perfect story.
One night, after Eve was sound asleep, and Ian was still awake at his desk, a robber broke into the apartment. Ian had stayed up for two days straight, perfecting his hero’s final triumph against the evil. The line in Ian’s mind between fiction and reality must have still been blurry then, because he confronted the burglar. Ian was shot three times in the chest. They were going to graduate the same year, and then he was going to publish his story and she was going to take a job designing for a major fashion name, and then they were going to get married and live happily ever after, just like Ian’s heroes always did. But none of that would happen.
Eve went back to live with her parents for a few weeks while they bought her a new place nearby the school. She couldn’t live in that apartment. The only thing of Ian’s that she kept was the manuscript of his masterpiece. “The story to change the world,” he’d said; the ending would remain unwritten. After a month long absence, Eve showed back up to class. She didn’t talk about what had happened, and pretty soon everyone else stopped trying to make her. The new Eve showed up for class, went to track and pole vaulting, and went home. She didn’t light up rooms, or make peoples’ days, or sparkle when she smiled even if she didn’t feel like smiling. Someone who had never had cause for anger, sadness, or fear, now found nothing but, and she had no way of showing it or releasing it.
Theme Song: (Completely optional.) Might find something for her later.
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Persona:
Persona Name: Af, Angel of Anger
[
img= http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/242/a/5/af_by_one_vox-d48dbmk.jpg] Angel of Anger, who holds sway over the hearts of men.
To love him or to hate him are both to be his ally.
Cut yourself down with your own sword.
Your enemy is dead.
His bloody hands are not his but are our own.
Persona Skills: Arm Chopper, Rampage, Fatal End
Character Relevance: Af is the manifestation of Eve’s suppressed desire to lash out at the world. He is her pain, redirected outward instead of kept bottled up inside.
