[img]https://katewjwhite.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/books-girl-nature-photography-read-favim-com-140687.jpg[/img] [b][color=mediumvioletred]Name:[/color][/b] Anastasia Vivian Lebrouche [b][color=mediumvioletred]Age:[/color][/b] 18 [b][color=mediumvioletred]Gender:[/color][/b] Female [b][color=mediumvioletred]Sexuality:[/color][/b] Demi-sexual [b][color=mediumvioletred]Year:[/color][/b] Y6 - also participating in several college courses [b][u][color=mediumvioletred]Hobbies[/color][/u][/b] [list] [*]Anastasia reads everything she can get her hands on, be it fiction or fact and loves it. Whenever she is not doing something deathly important she can be found with her nose in a book, completely ignoring the outside world. [*] Strangely enough, the girl is adept at needlework, learned from some of the house servants when her parents had been away and from the internet and books she found around town. She enjoys making pillows and dresses most of all, even though she's never going to wear them herself. [/list] [b][u][color=mediumvioletred]Skills[/color][/u][/b] There are few things that Anastasia is not capable of, and those few things would be social interaction and sports that require maximum movement. Because of her edietic memory she is capable of being good at nearly any subject. Here are a few things she is good at currently and enjoys doing. [list] [*] Reciting Shakespeare [*] Instrumental Prowess, most notably, the viola, flute and piano though she dabbles with things such as the cello and clarinet. [*] Baking is something she learned from her mother and she has continued to learn and expand her skills. [/list] [b][color=mediumvioletred]Bio:[/color][/b] Anastasia was born to a high class family as the second daughter and the youngest of five children, with her three older brothers constantly causing trouble and her sister nearly fifteen years her senior. They lived in Venice, Italy for a long while, her parents having moved here for her father’s job as an artist and her mothers’ love of photography, in a modestly sized home with two floors and a small yard where the girls kept a garden. Anna was a strange child, she never cried and she didn’t speak, at least not until her sister had moved away to marry a posh boy in London whom had come calling after his homestay and educational exchange on the island; she never grew to know her sister well and most of her brothers were gone in similar ways before the three moved to America, the next stop on an endless train of moves. They settled in a small town in South Dakota, living there until Anastasia reached the age of seven, a year and a half since they moved there and on to New York then Vegas and finally they stopped in Atlanta. Because of how often they had moved around, the girl found her friends in works of fiction and the text books at school where she would spend hours reading. Her parents learned she had an eidetic memory when she was nine and had recalled something she’d seen when she was only three years old – a pony on their property, described in picture perfect details. This was the purpose for their move to Atlanta where she attended none but the best schools and found herself in random university lectures simply because she left like it. Where most kids would have complained about being forced into greatness, she embraced her own mind and began to learn everything she possibly could, from old text books to newspapers dating back all the way to the sixties, lyrics to songs her mother had listened to and dictionaries. She quickly became fluent in any language she tried to learn and was well on her way to becoming a linguist and translator when the accident happened. She was sixteen, beginning to grow into her mothers’ beauty when they picked her up from school one day and were hit head on by a large truck speeding down the street on the wrong side of the road. Her parents died instantly, but Anastasia, in the back seat of the car, miraculously survived the accident. It had crushed her leg and her heart so wake up six months later without a single familiar face around her. They’d called all of her siblings and none had come and it was even worse to learn that her parents had perished from a complete stranger. They had left her with enough money to live off of until she died, but what she needed was love and someone to talk to; she didn’t speak again for two years after the accident. After another few months her brother showed up at the hospital, alone and with only two bags of luggage, ready to take her home he said though she never understood why it was he who had come. James had spent little to no time with her at all, having been absorbed in studies of his own while he reached to become a great scientist to find a cure for anything he could – he was working on the biological weapons team without knowing, they were feeding off his research into various diseases. Even though she didn’t talk for that long while, she wrote and they would learn together, helping her find her love of knowledge again until her leg was mostly better, a new metal knee cap helping her walk and a couple screws in her leg, though regardless she still walked with a limp and a terrible scar running all the way down either side of her leg led her to never wear the dresses her and her mother had bought again. Other Message me if you would like a pre-existing relationship with my Anastasia.