DEVERE, vivienne ainsley

[vivienne ainsley devere]

V I V I E N N E - A I N S L E Y - D E V E R E ,

nicknames ,
- - - viv.
age ,
- - - fourteen.
occupation ,
- - - full time student.
member group ,
- - - freshmen.

personality ,
- - - indecisive, determined (once she makes up her mind, she goes for it), bitchy, petty, narcissistic (about everything; it’s gotta be about her, her, her), holds a grudge, OCD, sarcastic, gullible, constantly changing appearance

family ,
- - -roarke devere • father • fifty • bank ceo.
- - -celia devere • mother • thirty-eight • aspiring novelist.
- - -alecsander devere • brother • sixteen • norrington junior.
history ,
- - -Vivienne was supposed to be born on March twenty-first. Her doctor-predicted birthday was always supposed to be right around the official beginning of spring, warranting a bestowal of a floral name in honor of the start of the season. She’d been destined to be a Rose, Lily, or Jasmine. Maybe a Camellia or Ivy if her parents craved a name that wouldn’t lead to her having three other Roses, Lilys, or Jasmines amongst the little girls that she’d call friends. Being born over a whole month premature completely dashed the Deveres’ hopes of their first day of spring daughter with an unmistakably feminine, seasonal name.

February fifteenth- almost a full five weeks before the doctor’s guaranteed due date- is forever marked on the Devere calendar as Vivienne’s birthday. It’s also marked the day that the perfect little family of three crumbled into the perfectly dysfunctional family of four. Celia threw herself into a fit taking care of her youngest and only daughter, her child whose name literally meant “alive”, after it became clear a week or so after her birth that she was in fact going to live. During that first month it had been questionable as to whether or not Vivienne would survive- a version of the popular reality show were the stakes were win the battle and years upon years of life, or lose and die at the ridiculously young age of a week old, two weeks old, twenty-four days old. Whenever anyone would come to visit the family at the hospital (because of course a worried mother and father can always be found at the hospital, nowhere else) they’d always remark about how tiny Vivienne was. How fragile she looked.

Or at least that’s what she’s been told. She was, of course, too young to discern any of what was being said around her during her first month of life, let alone be able to remember it fourteen years later.

Another “of course”: she lived. After the preemie unit at the hospital declared her healthy enough to be taken home (thirty-eight days after she was born), Vivienne thrived. Or thrived as well as any other infant thrives up until they learn how to walk and talk and cause a real fuss. She ate, drank, slept, cried and yelled for no discernable reason- typical baby things. But no matter how much of a pain in the ass she ended up being, her parents loved her. In their eyes, she could do no wrong. “Oh, Vivienne spit up on the über expensive Persian rug in the living room? Isn’t that the cutest thing!”

An over dramatization, but you see the point.

Her brother, on the other hand, hated her. From a young age she knew this, simply because he seemed to always turn the cold shoulder her way. In those few years they actually spent together before he paraded off to France, they formed a lifelong rift in their relationship that would prevent them from ever doing anything sibling-like just for the sake of doing something sibling-like. And in a way, that was completely okay with Vivienne, because she saw no practicality in making nice with someone who obviously didn’t want to put any effort in making nice with her.

•••

Her school years were rather… uneventful. She made no attempt to claw for the top spot in any of her classes, but she wasn’t one of the students who had to seek tutelage just to pass a class. She chose to idle by, earning a B average and participating in the minimal amount of extra-school activities to prevent her parents from having a mental breakdown at the mere idea that she was anti-social.

And anti-social she was not. She had her fair share of friends, none of them really all that significant enough to name but most of them interested in the same things that she was: boys, fashion, and gossip. The petty little details of junior high for a popular enough, pretty enough girl don’t really need to be stated (it can all be heard in rumors, right?) so this history is through seeing as more of the life has yet to be lived.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

HEY THERE, I'M DANGER AND I'M SIXTEEN YEARS OLD! I'VE BEEN RUNNING AROUND THE ROLEPLAY WORLD FOR ABOUT FOUR YEARS AND YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY ROLEPLAY SAMPLE BELOW! AS YOU CAN SEE, I'M USING TAYLOR MOMESN AS THE PLAY-BY FOR THIS CHARACTER. OH, AND MY OTHER CHARACTERS ARE HUNTER CHASE WHITLEY!

And then I was like “avada kedavra” and he was like “dead.”