Ms. Avia. I hope that you are all welcoming and kind to her… Jim?
I’m always welcoming, miss.
Raine Sophia Avia
Kathleen and Arthur (Raine’s mother and father) were only eighteen when a pregnancy test with two red lines announced they were going to have a baby. Young and naive, they underestimated the responsibility that bringing another life into the world meant, and decided to give it a chance. After all, what could’ve gone wrong? This new adventure turned out to be too much for them, and they soon gave up on being caring parents. They loved Raine, yes, but they were much too immature at that age to even see beyond their own noses. Raine grew up as an independent girl, and, even though it may have seemed like she was comfortable, as though she had been living the perfect lifestyle — she wanted more. So, she created a prototype of ‘bad girl’ only for herself, and began to follow it religiously. Skipping school and laughing at everything her mother said, even when she was dead serious, were the only things she could push herself to do. After all, she was only ten, and she wanted to get some attention.
And then glowing eyes and a bigger belly let her know that her sister was coming. A new baby, a new beginning. The love that they showed to the small creature made an ironic smile dance on Raine’s face, a mix of envy and sadness. But she wasn’t a bad girl, and the green eyes of Emily (that’s what they named her, after days of indecision that made her want to slap them both) grew on her. For, it was not her sister’s fault, this she realized. Finally, she began to forgive her parents for being such irresponsible creatures — but something came in the way. A disease. An infection. And the brown-hued girl knew nothing but screams and desperation, eyes wide open and fear. Too much fear. She often compared it to an endless nightmare: even though one might’ve so desired to have woken up safely in their old bed, it wasn’t so; it seemed to go on and on, until that one being could have very well lost their mind as a whole. They didn’t take long to get infected. Watching the light in her father’s eyes die and waking up, someday, alone (“They’re not dead, right? No, of course not. They just ran. And I should too”) were the cherry on the pie that was her life.
Raine sometimes seems like a typically normal, caring girl; the one who’s always laughing and smiling and oblivious to any kind of problems — and she desperately wants to be that girl. See, she is a perfectionist, and doesn’t stop until she believes there isn’t a single mistake in what she does. Eager to hear and learn new things, she likes stories and deep conversations, the kind that leaves her wondering. Details are everything, and she often finds herself submerged on the beauty that is watching things, really watching. A weird obsession with being the victim lives in her personality, and so she always turns situations. It’s hard for her to believe anyone anymore, and so ‘trust’ doesn’t exist in her personal dictionary. Mood swings are normal and crying too, although she hates being so sensible; it makes her feel worthless. But, on another line, it’s good too, right? She’s the victim. Her release has taken two forms: a pen, because she writes what she can’t scream, and self-harming, a practice that has become an addiction. An important thing to know about her is that she likes to follow orders, to be told what to do. If that doesn’t happen, she feels lost and eventually gets too frustrated with herself to do anything.
File No. 024
Full Name: Raine Sophia Avia
Date of Birth: May 19, 1995
Biological Mother: Kathleen H. Avia {Status - Unknown}
Biological Father: Arthur L. Avia {Status - Deceased}
Siblings: Emily Leanne Avia. {approx. 6, Status - Unknown}
Place of Birth: Santa Monica, California
Date of Recovery: February 16, 2013
Natural hair color: Dark Blonde
Eye color: Light Brown
Height: 5’ 3
Weight: 110 lb
Narcotic/Substance Abuse: N/A
Self Harm: Has acted on.
Suicidal Behavior: Has acted on.
Homicidal Behavior: N/A
Sexual Harassment: N/A
Raine, was it? That’s such a lovely name, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before — which isn’t saying that’s a bad thing; it’s just — okay, I’m rambling now; I’ll stop. Welcome to the manor, dear. I’m absolutely positive that Mr. and Mrs. Burnadellie would have been more than happy to give a proper greeting, but it seems they are currently — erm… Anyways! I do hope you enjoy your stay. Feel free to speak with us if you have any questions, concerns…
I sound like a goddamn recording.
Marceline Muerto Siaca
Marceline hardly had anything that one would even remotely consider as an adequate childhood — though, she didn’t seem to mind that it was that way; it was quite the opposite, in her point of view. Not only had she been neglected, she had received conditional love. To be specific, if a definition is required… Unconditional love is the kind of love in which is never ending, conditional is the kind that is only offered in place of something else; what a pity she received the latter. She believed — or, she had somehow transfixed it into her permanent mindset — that she had encountered the most kindhearted, humane beings to ever grace the earth with their presences. Of course, that had been when she was young, very young, indeed — perhaps before even reaching the age or 6, or 7. Every one, up to her teenage years, had believed she had forgotten such events (events that she most likely wont share with anyone— let alone anyone here)— she might have, possibly, but it was quite impossible to tell at the time. Her father passed away briefly after she had been born — as if it had been planned, in a way, processed out to be so. It was only sad, to her, nothing more; sad because time couldn’t have been kinder — and, as she knew all too well, it barely ever was.
She had but a few other siblings (3, to be specific, gender is irrelevant) — though, they were quite insignificant — or, in her point of view they were; she never quite considered them as ‘family’ as nearly all people did; she hardly considered them as anything, for that matter; insignificant, they were, nothing more — perhaps they were pests, bothers… Once again, this was all in her childhood; who’s to say she hadn’t changed since then? It was quite a conundrum on what had occurred to them (her siblings) — she never heard from them again after moving to mainland Britain; she had done so upon turning the age of 12, her mother taking her, her father staying in Santiago, Chile. After she’d arrived there, she’d felt more out of her element than usual; her strange behavior usually did it for her; countless individuals rarely ever wished to have any brand of conversation with her — lest say a simple ‘hello.’ She was most definitely not the kind of girl who was popular in high school — or any school, for that matter; Marceline was the kind who remained, above all, to herself; she wasn’t blessed to have many friends, so instead modestly lingered by without having to communicate much.
Marceline is quite odd (though others would argue that she is plainly ‘eccentric’), to say the least; she accepts that she is this way, embraces it — as though it were something that one should take sincere pride in. To put it into simple words… One who was observant of Ms. Siaca would most accurately describe her as being quiet, thoughtful, obsessive to some degree, and occasionally volatile in personality. She can be a complete and utter sweetheart, though, and most usually possesses the best of intentions towards herself and others. She usually tends to come off as a bit of an oddball; she’s not one to put herself out there and talk to people; she’s more the type to sit back and watch, test the waters a bit, and then (maybe) start to communicate. She’s got a lot of bottled up emotion that she doesn’t show, though; she doesn’t want to burden other people with her issues — what a selfish, inconsiderate thing that would be.
Erm… It seems that Mr. and Mrs. Burnadellie are currently… discussing things… Sorry.
As for everyone else, I’ll be here to answer questions you might have, concerns, etc. Thank you, I apologize for any inconvenience.
Oh, don’t mind him, love. The only one you should worry about pleasing is me.
Still here..
Oh, I can fix that. I bet there’s a few things you could fix, as well..
God damn it, woman.
I’m sorry. I do believe you’ve confused Selena with a servant, or a maid. You’d do well to get your own damn pillow.
He’d do well with anything.
You can get anything you want, handsome.
