Post by WESLEY MARIE JAMES on Jun 1, 2011 19:56:21 GMT -8
WESLEYMARIEJAMES
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T H E W A L L S W E C R A S H E D T H R O U G H
H O W T H E K I N G D O M
L I G H T S S H I N E D J U S T F O R M E & Y O U
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-- FULL NAME; Wesley Marie James
-- NICKNAMES; Wes, or That Chick With A Guy's Name
-- AGE; Eighteen
-- BIRTHDAY; May 21, 1993
-- HOMETOWN; Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
-- NATIONALITY; Canadian
-- SEXUALITY; Heterosexual
-- MEMBER GROUP; Future actress / high school student
-- PLAYBY; Selena Gomez
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I W A S S C R E A M I N G L O N G L I V E A L L ~
T H E M A G I C B R I N G
~ O N A L L T H E P R E T E N D E R S O N E D A Y
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[/font]I W A S S C R E A M I N G L O N G L I V E A L L ~
T H E M A G I C B R I N G
~ O N A L L T H E P R E T E N D E R S O N E D A Y
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-- LIKES; Popularity, makeup, rainbows, laughing, her best friends, constantly being on Twitter, cameras, dancing, updating her Facebook status, and butterflies
-- DISLIKES; Water, lame jokes, babysitting, being told what to do, bad pick-up lines, people who crush dreams, homework, being alone, storms, and rain
-- SECRETS; She has this friend, a guy, who she calls her best friend, only a lot of the time she'll just ignore him because he isn't the sort of guy that cool people should have as best friends; also, Wesley hates being in the water. Swimming pools, lakes, oceans, even hot tubs. The only place she can be in water is the shower, and she takes them faster than you could believe
-- FEARS; Anything to do with water, being in water, or touching water; and being alone (both literally and figuratively)
-- HABITS; A little bit OCD about organizing (she can never stand people in stores putting things back in the wrong places); she refuses to let any food touch any other type of food on her plate; and she has this habit of forgetting about her best friend for a while and then only calling him back when she absolutely needs him
-- GOALS; Wesley wants to be an actress, and she'll do anything to get there
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W E W I L L B E R E M E M B E R E D H O L D O N
P R O M I S E M E N O W ~
T H A T Y O U L L S T A N D B Y M E F O R E V E R
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[/font]W E W I L L B E R E M E M B E R E D H O L D O N
P R O M I S E M E N O W ~
T H A T Y O U L L S T A N D B Y M E F O R E V E R
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-- FATHER; Peter James, deceased
-- MOTHER; Linda Turcotte-James, deceased
-- SIBLINGS; N/A
-- OTHER FAMILY; Margaret Turcotte, seventy-two, grandmother. Henry Turcotte, seventy-four, grandfather.
-- PETS; N/A
-- HISTORY; Wesley Marie James was born to Peter James and Linda Turcotte-James on May 21, 1993. Life was good; at least until May 23, 1997, two days after her fourth birthday. Peter and Linda went out on their boat that day, leaving her with a babysitter -- Melissa -- all day long. Wes wasn't too fond of that idea, but that was kind of left in the dust when dinnertime rolled around with a whole lot of dark clouds and wind and rain and thunder and lightning. Wesley watched from the living room window, peering cautiously out through the glass in the general direction of the ocean, just three blocks away. Hiding behind the curtains every time there was a flash of lightning, she ignored Melissa, who was endlessly telling her that it was time for bed. It took most of the night for her to fall asleep.
When she woke up the next morning, the storm was over. Wesley ran into her parents' room to see if they were okay, but they didn't seem to be there. Hurrying along to the kitchen to see if they were there, she saw Melissa, asleep on the couch, and screamed. The babysitter wasn't too pleased to be woken up, but she forgot about it when she realized that it was 8:30 AM, but Peter and Linda weren't home yet. Still, she tried not to let Wesley see that she was worried, but Linda's parents phoned while she was scrambling some eggs for the girl.
Melissa went white as a sheet about five seconds into the phone call. Wesley stared anxiously at her, completely aware that something was wrong, although her little four-year-old mind couldn't seem to comprehend the possibilities. When she hung up, all Melissa said was, "Your grandma and grandpa are coming to pick you up -- I'll help you pack when you're done your breakfast."
Wesley didn't know for at least a week that her parents had drowned.
She has lived with her grandparents in Vancouver ever since, growing up with a very small amount of rules, a love of the outdoors, and an ever-present fear of water. She hasn't taken a bath since she was old enough to clean herself properly in the shower, and she makes showers quick. She also avoids swimming pools, lakes, and oceans like no tomorrow, and she hates going out in the rain. Even just drinking water freaks her out. She gulps it down as fast as possible, if only so she won't have to stare at the glass of water next to her plate; and she much prefers other beverages.
It happened right as she started school -- she made a lot of friends. She's a happy girl (outwardly, at least), and she makes friends easily. Wesley got caught up in all of it quickly, conforming to the norms of elementary school queen bee to middle school queen bee to high school queen bee as she went through all of them. She was that girl with the 64-pack of crayons with the sharpener, and everyone wanted to borrow it. She was that girl wearing too much lip gloss and interjecting far too many like's into her sentences. She was that girl constantly surrounded by adoring people, and she loved it.
The summer before she made the leap from middle school girl to high school girl, she met Jackson. He had just moved in next door to her halfway through eighth grade, and they had never really spoken until about a week into summer vacation, when she was on her way home from hanging out with some of her friends at the mall, and ran into him -- literally. Somehow, they became friends, and she even called him her best friend.
Only when school started in September, she ignored him. It wasn't long before Jackson asked her what was going on -- to which she replied, simply, that he was not the sort of guy she should be friends with at Pacific Oaks High, and not to tell anybody that they even knew each other as more than neighbours. They didn't even speak for months, and Wesley barely even noticed when Jackson and his family moved almost halfway across town; she was far too busy getting into her first serious relationship, something more than holding hands on the playground at recess, and this new guy -- Tyler -- was special, she was convinced of it.
He broke her heart. Dumped her after six months for her closest girl friend -- who, needless to say, doesn't hold that title anymore. And what did Wesley do the first night of being single again? Of course, she resorted to the only person she thought she could trust: Jackson. Called him up out of the blue and asked him to come over. And he did. God only knows why, because she hadn't exactly been the best of friends to him -- but there it was. Wesley spent most of spring break in her grade nine year hanging out with Jackson, trying to get over Tyler.
And then they got back to school two weeks later, and she was right back to ignoring him. The poor guy tried so hard, but she wanted nothing to do with him -- not in public. And, in time, she forgot about him again. Yet halfway through the summer, she called him up again after a party and asked him to come over; the guy she'd been with there had ditched her to dance with another girl, and she had been in no mood to stay at that party. And again, Jackson dropped everything and hurried across the city to Wesley's house, spent the whole night watching chick flicks with her and eating ice cream.
A week later, he was forgotten yet again. Wes wanted nothing more than to be a popular girl, and she was convinced that being friends with Jackson would bring everything crashing down on her. It would ruin her chances. So she went on with her life, barely noticing him if he smiled at her in the halls when school started again, if he glanced over at her during class. The tenth grade passed in a blur -- three different guys, three break-ups, three calls to Jackson, three times to forget him again. It was a cruel, never-ending cycle, and she didn't even seem to notice that he even cared.
She was sad now, far from the happy girl she used to be, yet she still acted so much the same. Nobody seemed to notice that she was even a little bit different, that her smile was broken now, incomplete. Not even the people she called her friends. It was halfway through grade eleven that she started to stop caring, to pretend that nothing was wrong, nothing at all -- that it didn't matter when boys broke her heart in the same places it had been broken so many times before. At night, Wesley could often be found crying herself to sleep; but the next morning, she would smile brightly at her grandparents and her so-called friends and every other person she happened to see that day. She'd go out in the expensive car her grandparents had bought her for her sixteenth birthday to drive aimlessly around town, avoiding any street that she might know someone on.
And every time that someone leaves her, she phones Jackson. And, for some bizarre reason, he hasn't yet learned to ignore her calls.
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~ P L E A S E T E L L T H E M M Y N A M E T E L L
H O W T H E C R O W D S ~
W E N T W I L D A N D I H O P E T H E Y S H I N E
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[/font]~ P L E A S E T E L L T H E M M Y N A M E T E L L
H O W T H E C R O W D S ~
W E N T W I L D A N D I H O P E T H E Y S H I N E
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-- NAME/ALIAS; Ryla
-- AGE; Sixteen
-- GENDER; Female
-- ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE; Nearly a year
-- OTHER CHARACTERS; Thorne, Zaryn, Corinne, Serah
