Post by Deleted on Oct 28, 2011 4:40:48 GMT -6
How did you find us? Gotta love google
Did you read our rules? Of course
Name: Remy LeBeau
Age: 22
Species: (Wereanimal, Vampire or Human) WereLeopard
Parents: (Living or dead, we still would like to know their names) Amelie and Jean-Marc LeBeau, living? dead? who cares, Remy doesn't.
Physical Description: 5'7 with a well toned muscular body he earned from many a fight living on the streets and much exorcize. Blue eyes and short black hair, his cheek bones are high and his second best feature only rivaled by his eyes.
In leopard form he's a snow leopard, with blue-grey cloudy eyes and a nasty snarl.
Face Claim: Ian Somerhalder
History:
Remy grew up in a well off family in the heart of New Orleans, and for the most part he wanted for nothing. His father was mostly absent and his mother had a bad habit of sleeping with any man who would have her. He had everything a boy growing up could want, with the exception of his fathers affections. His parents would often throw benefit parties for any given charity and Remy spent most of his time flirting with any women who showed interest, those who didn't? He made them his goal to convince. Seeing himself as a sort of Don Juan and god's gift to women he relished in his conquests.
December 23, 2003 the day after his 15th birthday his family held a benefit for the arts. As with every party held Remy stole Champagne and flirted with any eye catching beauty he happened upon. He was in the process of chatting with a woman roughly 10 years older than himself he spotted a transfixing woman musing over one of the paintings. He excused himself from his conversation with a kiss of the hand and made his way through the room of people like a predatory in action.
"Bon Jour, petite" He had said to the woman bowing and taking her hand. She hadn't said a word when he stood beside her, her gaze all for the painting before them. Remy had taken in her beauty staring from her feet slowly to her face. She was wearing a white dress, cut so a thin line of pale leg showed through stopping mid thigh. Her waist was thin her hips curvy but subtle. Her breasts were a large, pale mound framed by the square cut lace of her dress. When he reached her face he was taken aback, her skin was flawless and her eyes were a blue so pale they might have been able to rival his own. Her hair flowed around her face in a halo of blonde as if her whole body were made from ice.
"Remy LeBeau at your service, petite." He bowed and she nodded her head slightly once.
"What do you think of this painting Monsieur LeBeau?" Her voice was warm like fur despite her ice princess appearance and it took him a moment to recover before looking at the painting in question. The Canvas was a swirl of color, different sceneries blending together. Iced mountains into lush green jungle ending in the center with bars like a cage. From behind those bars stared eyes a perfect mixture of cat green and cat gold.
"I'd tell you that those eyes do not compare to the ones set on your face, petite. But i don't think you are that type of woman." He paused, "it's a beautiful painting, but depressing Cherie. The artist could have left out those ugly bars," The woman laughed cutting off his observations.
"The artist appreciates a fresh look on things." She tapped the name plate attached to the photo, "Yelena Volkova, love, and you have a refreshing look on things." The night continued this way for most of the night. When the room started to empty they retreated to his bedroom. As much as he loved to end a hunt in such pleasure even he had a limit. When the spotted fur spilled through her skin and her eyes turned a cat like he had been frozen in both confusion and fear. Casanova though he thought he was his screams of pain that night echoed off the walls.
Writing it off as a bad dream and clumsiness brought on by too much alcohol he brushed off the images and ignored the cuts and bruises which already seemed to be healing and went about his normal routine. It wasn't until the next full moon when his body contorted and his muscles contracted did he realize his own reality. When he awoke the morning following his first shift he left home and as you can imagine the Louisiana streets are no place for a 15 year old to be living. He learned fast, making money playing cards and gambling.
He spent his days hustling bourbon street and his nights sleeping at and old plantation a good 6 mile walk way from people. And every full moon he ran in the dense swamp areas killing alligators and hogs. Though leopard his black spots couldn't fool his heart when he had his white hair staring him in the face. He wanted snow, he wanted to meet someone else like him. As the years went on he began to think he would settle for meeting anyone of his own kind, unaware that many existed in his city. So at 19 he packed what things he had and jumped a train, determined to find somewhere to call home all the while unaware of the shifters and vampires around him. Oblivious to the other things that went bump in the night. Until he found Dallas.
Approved
Did you read our rules? Of course
Name: Remy LeBeau
Age: 22
Species: (Wereanimal, Vampire or Human) WereLeopard
Parents: (Living or dead, we still would like to know their names) Amelie and Jean-Marc LeBeau, living? dead? who cares, Remy doesn't.
Physical Description: 5'7 with a well toned muscular body he earned from many a fight living on the streets and much exorcize. Blue eyes and short black hair, his cheek bones are high and his second best feature only rivaled by his eyes.
In leopard form he's a snow leopard, with blue-grey cloudy eyes and a nasty snarl.
Face Claim: Ian Somerhalder
History:
Remy grew up in a well off family in the heart of New Orleans, and for the most part he wanted for nothing. His father was mostly absent and his mother had a bad habit of sleeping with any man who would have her. He had everything a boy growing up could want, with the exception of his fathers affections. His parents would often throw benefit parties for any given charity and Remy spent most of his time flirting with any women who showed interest, those who didn't? He made them his goal to convince. Seeing himself as a sort of Don Juan and god's gift to women he relished in his conquests.
December 23, 2003 the day after his 15th birthday his family held a benefit for the arts. As with every party held Remy stole Champagne and flirted with any eye catching beauty he happened upon. He was in the process of chatting with a woman roughly 10 years older than himself he spotted a transfixing woman musing over one of the paintings. He excused himself from his conversation with a kiss of the hand and made his way through the room of people like a predatory in action.
"Bon Jour, petite" He had said to the woman bowing and taking her hand. She hadn't said a word when he stood beside her, her gaze all for the painting before them. Remy had taken in her beauty staring from her feet slowly to her face. She was wearing a white dress, cut so a thin line of pale leg showed through stopping mid thigh. Her waist was thin her hips curvy but subtle. Her breasts were a large, pale mound framed by the square cut lace of her dress. When he reached her face he was taken aback, her skin was flawless and her eyes were a blue so pale they might have been able to rival his own. Her hair flowed around her face in a halo of blonde as if her whole body were made from ice.
"Remy LeBeau at your service, petite." He bowed and she nodded her head slightly once.
"What do you think of this painting Monsieur LeBeau?" Her voice was warm like fur despite her ice princess appearance and it took him a moment to recover before looking at the painting in question. The Canvas was a swirl of color, different sceneries blending together. Iced mountains into lush green jungle ending in the center with bars like a cage. From behind those bars stared eyes a perfect mixture of cat green and cat gold.
"I'd tell you that those eyes do not compare to the ones set on your face, petite. But i don't think you are that type of woman." He paused, "it's a beautiful painting, but depressing Cherie. The artist could have left out those ugly bars," The woman laughed cutting off his observations.
"The artist appreciates a fresh look on things." She tapped the name plate attached to the photo, "Yelena Volkova, love, and you have a refreshing look on things." The night continued this way for most of the night. When the room started to empty they retreated to his bedroom. As much as he loved to end a hunt in such pleasure even he had a limit. When the spotted fur spilled through her skin and her eyes turned a cat like he had been frozen in both confusion and fear. Casanova though he thought he was his screams of pain that night echoed off the walls.
Writing it off as a bad dream and clumsiness brought on by too much alcohol he brushed off the images and ignored the cuts and bruises which already seemed to be healing and went about his normal routine. It wasn't until the next full moon when his body contorted and his muscles contracted did he realize his own reality. When he awoke the morning following his first shift he left home and as you can imagine the Louisiana streets are no place for a 15 year old to be living. He learned fast, making money playing cards and gambling.
He spent his days hustling bourbon street and his nights sleeping at and old plantation a good 6 mile walk way from people. And every full moon he ran in the dense swamp areas killing alligators and hogs. Though leopard his black spots couldn't fool his heart when he had his white hair staring him in the face. He wanted snow, he wanted to meet someone else like him. As the years went on he began to think he would settle for meeting anyone of his own kind, unaware that many existed in his city. So at 19 he packed what things he had and jumped a train, determined to find somewhere to call home all the while unaware of the shifters and vampires around him. Oblivious to the other things that went bump in the night. Until he found Dallas.
Approved
