d2// harlow vinson [done]

willow .
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d2// harlow vinson [done] Feb 4, 2013 15:39:05 GMT -5

Post by willow . on Feb 4, 2013 15:39:05 GMT -5

Name: harlow elle vinson
Age: 16
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 2
Appearance:

saga rickmer

Personality:

WEDNESDAY'S CHILD IS FULL OF WOE.

History:

Codeword: odair
Comments/Other:

Only if for a nnight by Florence + the Machine

Palette

Last Edit: Apr 24, 2013 14:56:55 GMT -5 by willow .

willow .
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d2// harlow vinson [done] Feb 12, 2013 17:20:27 GMT -5

Post by willow . on Feb 12, 2013 17:20:27 GMT -5

HARLOW - ELLE - VINSON

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And I had a dream
About my old school
And she was there all pink and gold and glittering
I threw my arms around her legs

HISTORY

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She remembers those old days, the times where she would come home with her head up and a broad smile across her duck-like face. Think teeth stuck out from full lips and a sparkle shone in her eye as she would prance over to her mother, no more the child doomed to misfortune. Superstitious as she was, Mistress Vinson liked Harlow, saw the way that she climbed trees and looked into the horizon. “How can such a little beauty ever cause any trouble?”

[/i][/color]The other children were born on normal days, not this one though. Harlow was the little girl born so selectively on a Wednesday. And because of this, she was forever cursed.

Rumors were passed and strong glances were shared around town as the little girl would walk by, happily skipping on her way to school, to meet her friends with a warm greeting and see the smiles on their faces. One day was different though, no longer did they see her on the road anymore, just a shadow in her place would duck behind buildings in a hurried attempt not to be seen, quiet footsteps echoing in the night as Harlow would pull her hair up with only a ribbon and continue on her way with careful steps. Whispered words “Where did Harlow go?” went through the house in the beginning, candles lit as he pale faced mother would search for her small figure. It had to be accepted though, that she would be gone during the nights. After a while it became normal, no longer was it such a strange reality to accept as the lock clicked on the door every night and the silhouette of a girl slipped out under the starry sky.

All people have secrets, even those that hardly dare to speak; the little girls that refuse to raise their head as their name is called through echoing hallways. A secret is something that can impale a person’s heart; Harlow has had her fair amount of mental deaths, blood forming a pool around her dismembered body and thick tears slicing through the dirt on her terrified face. The lioness shouldn’t be afraid, she knows this. She’s a hunter after all, the queen who resides at the top and smirks at the smell of spilled blood. And while this is such a known reality to her, innocence was lost in such a way to ice over her once soft and perfect little heart. Harlow can still hear the screams in her head, a small frown appearing on her face as she silently chases shadows.

It all started on her way home from school when she was ten years old, just a small girl with a big heart and vibrant personality, walking by empty alleyways, not at all afraid of the ‘beautiful’ world that surrounded her. In her hand lay a basket of flowers, colors shining out against the sun and the light yellow bows in her short, blonde hair. It was a sad moment, a reality that wouldn’t have taken place if she hadn’t decided to take the shorter path home.

And because of this decision, the man was able to get her and do bad things to her, things that she won’t speak of. Those who saw her afterwards remember only one sight, a girl cut up, blood decorating the bows in her hair and the light yellow dress stained with blood seeping from a slash in her chest. Next to her lay a knife, the man gone. And in those few seconds of pain and near-death, the innocent child’s eyes iced over and she promised revenge, she told herself that everything would be okay after that, that the bad men would be taken care of as long as she was around to help. It was all she could do to convince herself to live, to will the blood to pump through her veins and not push her into a never-ending sleep.

The night has been her refuge since then, the very same knife clutched between nimble fingers, her own blood once staining the silver blade as she slashes it at those who dare to come too close. A web of lies surrounds her and friends are difficult to find, especially when you have a compulsion to hurt everyone you meet.

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Came to weeping
Came to weeping
And I heard your voice
As clear as day

PERSONALITY

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Never has anyone seen such a gentle soul, a little girl just wanting to survive in the big, bad world. Small arms wrapped around the trunks of trees and gentle

[/i][/color]fingers prying open the edge of a centuries-old book that nearly falls apart in her hands. Under it all are callouses, only from holding the leather grip of the knife so hard in her small child-like hands. And she still has scars that cover her in streaks across her withered body, and yet, Harlow sometimes refuses to admit to it, the attack that happened so many years ago. She calls it “building upon her strength”, something that her beautiful sisters would call merely “stupidity”. For her though, everything has a meaning, down to the small cracks in the road caused so many years ago by a rouge car. Even the little rings in the trees, they show age and experience. “One day I’m going to have eighteen rings, and then, I’ll escape from here.” They used to ask her what it meant; now they don’t even bother anymore.

The lioness never listens to anyone that she doesn’t care about, ever since that day, Harlow has been a girl of the night. She wanders around in a small pack, complete by only her and her trusty knife that never leaves her side. In the alleyways there are little girls, she sees them, complete in their small outfits and caked on make-up. One day, she dreams to round them all up and start a revolution, the poor little abused girls that wander in the night. She will never be one of them, not until that day, where they stop selling themselves; Harlow has her own intentions for being on the corners of streets. Death.

The first person that she killed had screamed, the older man collapsing to his filthy knees as the knife slowly ran across his throat. Blood slowly dripped onto the ground and all Harlow could manage was a small, evil smile. Only complete with the small sound of her singing, singing the man to sleep as she let him bleed to death on the dirty ground, the world soon to be free of one more impurity. His wild eyes shrunk, only until they held the most gentle and faded look possible as he cried for repentance, begged the girl that he could be saved, that she not let him die. And instead of listening to his cries, such as any proper lady should have done, she wiped off her knife on her pale white skirt, stood up, and walked away, listening for the screams as the life faded from her victim.
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And you told me I should concentrate
It was all so strange
And so surreal
That a ghost should be so practical

APPEARANCE

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Looks can be deceiving, a simple glance can send a chill down your spine. Eyes as wide as the moon and thin lips, surrounded by the starry sky of light freckles, shining slightly better in the summer when the sun can beam upon her face. She likes that, The sunlight feeds Harlow. Arms pulled to her sides and a slightly upturned nose pointed at you from a narrowly cut face made of pure, wind-beaten porcelain. Waves of hair fall gently to the mid of her back, gusts of air blowing the separate strands out into the space around her, a halo of golden locks forming her face with a sure security that makes her sit on the ground and curl into a ball, clutching with scabbed fingers to the tangled ends that ares swept from the path of the wind. Eyes are closed and a blind sense comes over her, the night pulls her under and consumes her until Harlow is nothing left. She likes this too.

Her family doesn't see her all that much, her slim body and tight lipped face that hardly ever gives any true expression at all, the occasional smile taking the spotlight and flaunting it off. Pretty dresses adorning her thin body, shaping around her stomach and slim arms with a tight grip, she hates the formality of it. I would rather strip it all and run through the streets, nothing to hold me back. She's an animal, creeping silently through the darkness of night and strangling you to the ground in the moment when you least expect it most, her wiry figure only a silhouette as her blazing eyes focus on yours and her clawed fingers rip your throat out. Her secrets are safe, confined in dark alleyways where they aren't visible to most, the lioness of the night.

Only if for a night
And the only solution was to stand and fight
And my body was loose and I was set alight
But she came over me like some holy rite

Last Edit: Apr 24, 2013 14:56:43 GMT -5 by willow .

willow . Tribute [M:1300] 436 POSTS last seen Nov 28, 2013 13:16:53 GMT -5 off in the meadow	d2// harlow vinson [done] Apr 24, 2013 14:57:17 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by willow . on Apr 24, 2013 14:57:17 GMT -5 Finally done ! [/center]

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d2// harlow vinson [done] Apr 24, 2013 15:10:29 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Apr 24, 2013 15:10:29 GMT -5

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