Post by Miss Elizabeth Bennet on Mar 23, 2012 20:21:22 GMT -5
Miss Elizabeth Bennet
FULL NAME AND TITLE: Miss Elizabeth Bennet
GOES BY: Miss Eliza by acquaintances, and Lizzie by family and dear friends
AGE: not yet One and Twenty
CLASS: Gentry
OCCUPATION: Gentleman's Daughter
OF THE --- FAMILY: Bennet
POSITION IN FAMILY: Second Eldest Daughter
FINANCES: £50/Year
FACE CLAIM: Jennifer Ehle
EYE COLOR: Hazel/Brown
HAIR COLOR: Dark Brown
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 5’3”, with a fuller figure than her sisters
DESCRIPTION: Lizzie’s appearance has always been considered rather commonplace when compared with the fair loveliness of her elder sister Jane, but is by no means unfortunate. Where she lacks Jane’s slender grace, she makes up for with a smiling, expressive mouth, and bright hazel eyes that often speak when she cannot find words—though times such as that are few and far between! Her figure is fuller than the favorable lightness of her sister Jane’s, but is rather comely nonetheless.
She finds herself pleased at her ability to melt into the background in social situations so that she may observe, rather than always engage. Lizzie Bennet is known more for her lively mind than her beauty. Her hair is dark, now tamed into soft waves after years of being just shy of unruly, and the glossy curls frame her smiling oval face pleasingly when she pins it back.
She looks best in autumnal colors, goldenrod and rust and chestnut, and bears her mother’s penchant for blue tolerably well. Her favorite article is a trim bolero jacket, made of shining black velvet. It’s one of the smartest pieces she owns, and is one she wears most often. She has always preferred her mind over her features, much to her poor mother’s displeasure, and finds that she does not often dwell on her simple taste in clothing.
PERSONALITY: Lizzie is certainly the least flighty of all her sisters, as her father often tells her, and has always been curious by nature. Her interest and intelligence is fed by hours and hours of poring over her father’s books as a child, practically devouring the works of Shakespeare and Molière. She is quite learned and sensible and, though perhaps ill-suited to her current familial lot, she is a romantic at heart.
Her independent nature is rather off-putting to her younger sisters, who find themselves more interested in hat ribbons than much else, but Lizzie finds she cares little for their silliness at the expense of the family. Her manners are pleasing, though she is known more for her lively impertinence and good-natured wit. Her disposition, in general, is agreeable and good-humored.
However, in the presence of those dearest to her, such as her sister Jane and her close friend Charlotte Lucas, her words are less teasing and much more genuine, and it is with them that she shows a type of accepting vulnerability that she does not share often with others.
RESIDENCE: Longbourn
FAMILY MEMBERS: Mr Bennet (father)
Mrs Bennet (mother)
Miss Jane Bennet (sister)
Miss Mary Bennet (sister)
Miss Kitty Bennet (sister)
Miss Lydia Bennet (sister)
Mr Collins (cousin)
HISTORY: Elizabeth Bennet was the second daughter born to the Bennet family of Longbourn, who were praying rather adamantly for a son. It would be years before Mrs Bennet would truly forgive her.
As a child, Lizzie was rather plain, but never found herself wanting for attention. Where her mother would much rather dote upon the likes of Kitty and Lydia, Lizzie always found herself under the wing of her elder sister Jane. From the moment they first saw each other, Jane and Lizzie were as close as could be. It was through Jane that she learned to suffer the embarrassment of her mother and foolish sisters in silence. The elder Bennet sister was a great comfort to Lizzie, and in turn, she became her confidant. Lizzie knew that she could rely upon her elder sister for anything, and that she would always be treated with love and honesty.
While perhaps least favored by her mother, Lizzie was clearly her father’s favorite. Mr Bennet was always grateful for that fact that despite living in a house full of silly women, there was always Lizzie—self-sufficient, quick-witted Lizzie—there to talk to. They spent long hours in his study reading, penning correspondences, and tuning out the shrill cries of Mrs Bennet.
Her independence, although admired by her father, has certainly left her without any personal attachments. She finds that while pressed upon, by her mother, to marry, she cannot bring herself to ally with someone she cannot wholly admire and respect. The number of eligible men in Meryton dwindles each month it seems, and the number is smaller when taking in consideration any sort of men that Lizzie can stomach holding conversation with. There is a small part in the back of her mind that has relented and come to terms with her spinsterhood, where she can be the spry, clever aunt to Jane’s smiling future children.
YOUR NAME: Sadie
YOUR AGE: 23
YOUR RP EXPERIENCE: involved in creative writing for the last 12 years
YOUR SAMPLE: Hiding behind a pair of worn aviator sunglasses, Rose kicked idly at the sand at her feet. Ballet flats were a bad idea, hindsight being 20/20, and she berated herself under her breath for forgetting to pack sandals. She had left for Memory on a bit of whim, tossing a wave to her bewildered aunts as she threw her faded duffle into the passenger seat of her car and headed clear across the country. There was an opened envelope on her dashboard, a letter inside that spoke of things no one else knew about her—not even her aunts. It was crazy, though, to just pack up and leave her comfortable, if not boring life, in Seattle, just to see what all the fuss was about in Maine.
And all Rose could think of was how she had left her favorite pair of sandals in the back of her closet.
It was early—early for her at least—and the thin silver watch on her wrist ticked closer to 9 o’clock. She had arrived in Memory late the night before, blinking wearily from behind the wheel of her ugly station wagon as she drove down the main drag. The nearest parking lot was as good of a spot as any for her to sleep for a few hours, and when morning did arrive, Rose was rewarded with the most beautiful sunrise she had ever witnessed. Living on the west coast had provided sunsets, but there was something magical about the way the light slowly woke everything around her.
Even thinking about how poetic the sight was made her fingers itch for her guitar, but that, along with the rest of her worthwhile material possessions, was locked in the back of her car, her keys a welcome weight in the pocket of her faded jeans.
From the look of the pier at her left, there was some sort of carnival going on, or at least would be going on as soon as the gates opened. The workers were busy stringing up the last of the colorful paper lanterns and checking the bulbs on all of the concession stands. It had been ages since Rose had gone to a carnival—her domineering aunts had warned her endlessly about the dangers of fair rides. Their strict rules and even tighter leash were things Rose definitely wasn’t going to miss.
Her thoughts were jarred when a girl, who looked to be around her own age, soundly ran into her, and offered a laugh in apology. "You okay?"
The girl in front of her was smiling easily, and while it was certainly too early for Rose to be as affable as her, she couldn’t help but return the smile, if with less wattage.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Rose assured her, dusting the sand off of her jeans, “you know, just thought I’d take a swan dive into these dunes. Part of my daily regimen, you know.”
