SPARTO-ZURICH, flannery anette

[flannery anette sparto-zurich]

NAME: flannery anette sparto-zurich
AGE: nineteen.
HEIGHT: 5'7.
WEIGHT: 110 lbs.
EYE COLOR: piercing, icy blue.
HAIR COLOR: blonde.
ETHNICITY: british, romanian, russian, french
LIKES: drinks, pins, yelling, fighting, subtle bitchery, being named after a crazy bitch, fucking, cursing, drugs, dressing up, dancing, every single vegetable, citrus fruits, accents, loud music, fast cars, having two moms.
DISLIKES: everything. everyone.
SECRETS: she has no boundaries when it comes to attraction, and she knows it.
GRADE AND/OR OCCUPATION: hooker when she feels like it, learned from mama dearest.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: flan-sexual.
PLAY BY PLAY: skye stracke.

PERSONALITY:

Flan is ultimately white trash; on some occasions she’d describe herself as such. She’s got no shame and doesn’t practice restraint in any part of her life, she’s outspoken and loud, rude and blunt. That isn’t to say there are certain circumstances where she’s likely to not rip your head off, but one shouldn’t count on her generosity. There really isn’t a plus side to her, unless you’re looking for a quick lay because when it comes to that, she’s a pro. Was she raised this way? Of course not, but having two mommies instead of just one can take it’s toll on a person, and considering neither of them were really model citizens, Flan somehow came out like she did. On the inside, she’s probably super sweet and grounded but she’s too swamped in drugs and alcohol ninety percent of the time to let it shine through.

As for her profession, she finds seducing people fun and works for herself, not a pimp. Sometimes she takes payment, sometimes not, but more than likely she’ll just jack your wallet and everything in it. Flan is spiteful, manipulative and an excellent liar at the best of times, to the extent where even someone who knows her might not be able to figure it out. She’s best described as elusive, slipping out the grasp of everyone who may try to put their hands around her. Despite drowning in a prescription pool, Flan is somehow able to survive and make her way into the world, whether they like her or not. She’s impulse driven and sporadic, as well, so don’t expect something to happen the way you thought it would… it won’t.

PLACE OF BIRTH: paris, france.
DATE OF BIRTH: october 31st.
FINANCIAL STATUS: middle class.
FATHER: she didn't have one.
MOTHER: baise sparto & trixie zurich.
SIBLINGS: none.


HISTORY:

Quite a while ago, in a school called Manser for delinquent children available for reformation, two people met and fell into a lovely, if much reluctant, love. This was in Amsterdam. On the other side of the world, in New York City, a couple finally became fed up with the inability to have children, and by way of making themselves happy, moved to assist as teachers in the school. Helping children, since they couldn’t have any, seemed like the second best thing, right? So it seemed to be fate that when the young couple actually enrolled in the school had a child, and the father didn’t seem to want it, the couple from New York would adopt the child and raise it. And thus, the baby was named Baise and given everything she could ever want, treated like the little princess she was and taught to be well-mannered, sophisticated. She was absolutely smothered in love and affection. Unfortunately, she grew curious as children so often do, and ran away when she was twelve years old. Having always been a little directionally challenged, Baise found herself lost. A man swooped in and abducted her, turning her into a child prostitute. Her parents shortly thereafter perished in a horrible car accident, leaving her ultimately alone in the world. Through some twist of events, she met Trixie Zurich, a girl from the other side of the tracks, and the two fell in love, despite what some might consider gender boundaries. It was a passionate and caring love, and it still holds strong today. But anyway. The product of their relationship was a small little baby girl by artificial insemination, by the name of Flannery after her crazy great-aunt, who’d died of breast cancer merely a year before her birth.

But back to that other couple for a second. Before they knew what was happening, the girlfriend was pregnant again and this time it resulted in a baby boy, who they decided to keep. He was Flannery's uncle, Teal, although he was only a year older. This was unbeknownst to anyone but the happy couple, who periodically moved from place to place. The boyfriend was a prostitute as well, a male escort, and so it wasn't long they could stay in any one place. This ultimately resulted in the distant family members of the boy to not even know of his existence, especially not after the couple from New York had died and the Manser students didn't have any way to contact them. Back to Flan. The little girl was a nightmare in the form of a child, and Trixie and Baise had the most difficult time you could imagine raising her. For example, when she was eight she stumbled across a pack of cigarettes and it wasn’t long before she was smoking one, only for Trixie to come home and smack the shit out of her. When she was twelve, she ran away for the first time, on purpose considering her mother’s preoccupation with that year. She knew they’d worried over the same thing happening to her, and she did it anyway because she was a spiteful little fuck. Despite everything she did, she loved her parents and told them so.. Considering she didn’t lie to them, it was the truth. So about a week before her thirteenth birthday, she came home and told them of her discovery - sex was amazing. She’d been paid for it, too, to her parent’s horror.

School was nothing but a faint tugging sensation that said she should go, although she hadn’t been to a class since the day she hit fourth grade and decided it was for fucktards and morons. Flan never bothered to go after that, skipping every day and heading into town with her boyfriends, doing things under bridges and basically living the life of a rockstar without the rock. Trixie didn’t really mind since she’d spent the majority of her life the same way and had later settled way down, but Flan didn’t have in mind to do the same. When she hit fifteen, she started selling her sex to the boys in the high school for a hundred bucks a pop, and while it was pretty open knowledge otherwise, her parents never found out. The second she ‘graduated’ (blowing the headmaster had it’s benefits), Flan was on a plane to travel the world.

She went first to Britain, visited with the Floods and then to Romania, where she stayed with her grandma and grandpa Zurich for a good year and a half. They were pretty lax as far as rules went, so when she came tumbling into the large house at around four the morning with a girl and a guy hanging off of her, they didn’t bat an eyelash and just directed her to the right room. Both of them seemed to have come from rich as fuck families, so apparently wild children weren’t phasing; on top of that, Gma Friday had raised her mother as well as her two twin sisters.. So she could handle pretty much anything Flan decided to throw at her. Although she did get weepy whenever someone called into the window with her name, and it was then that Flan first learned to start changing her name whenever she met someone knew. For a while it was Anette, her middle name, and then when she bored of that she started going for different things: Evelyn, Lily (after one of her mother’s best friends), Flora, Jane, Anna. It didn’t matter because she’d developed the habit of kicking the men and women out of her bed before they could ask for anything else anyway. Finally, when she hit nineteen, she went balls out and moved all the way across the world on a whim - to Hawaii. She was tired of the rainy, cold weather Romania had to offer and wanted the beach.

She’s been there for a year now, terrorizing whoever comes her way and making sure they sweat when they think about her, because no one is a better whore than Flannery Sparto-Zurich.

ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:

Faina took one look at the gown held out in her mother's hands and vehemently shook her head. They were already a half an hour late, and it would undoubtedly be more than that considering the ride to the restaurant would probably be less than favorable by means of quickness, and she didn't seem to be deciding on an outfit very easily, either. She didn't want to go and that was that, she was going to fight for her cause every single step of the way.

About two hours earlier, the fight to get her dressed had begun. She'd awoken around two in the afternoon, her body worn out from the long trip to the beach she'd made before and resting in peaceful slumber, something no one had dared to wake up. Her parents, having flown in from Russia, were out galavanting about and ignoring her as usual, their eyes set only on the prize: the Warwick child. Vanka was apparently spoiled goods, too much so to pawn her off on the family and Faina had been put up, she'd known this for days if not weeks. It was unfortunate but just how it happened in these stupid, stupid upper-class circles. In no more than a year, Faina would be Mrs. Warwick. Joy. It was the only aspect of her life she had no control over and she disliked it greatly, to the extent where she'd go out of her way to ruin the gown before hand by running it over with the limo her family forced her to ride around in all the time. Money was about being inconspicuous, in most aspects her mother and father agreed, but this was not one of them. God forbid she walk. Frankly it gave her a migraine just thinking about it.

After fighting her still-strawberry-blonde hair into curls, her mother had forced her to sit still while she wound said girls into a sophisticated coil on the base of her neck and twisted them so they cascaded down her neck, resting around the base of her throat. Something Faina easily could have done herself and hated, if only just because her mother hadn't given her an option about that either. And then it was to the maids, who had had a second dress dry-cleaned and ready so in case she pulled another maneuver like the one at her winter formal, there would be another way to force her to make her appearance.

Now, she sat frowning and shaking her head at the plum gown settled easily on the thick brocade comforter she usually slept just under. Her hair was still elaborately styled, much to her disdain, and her makeup was now slightly done to the extent of red lipstick and classic, on top of the eyelid eyeliner. It was like she was a walking Chanel ad, something her mother associated with classiness and therefore it automatically meant Faina had to participate. The woman had hardly talked to her daughter in two months and suddenly what she wore was some sort of family adventure. Lighting a cigarette, Faina glared hard at her mother before taking a drag and setting it gingerly on the crystal ash tray located on top of her nightstand, sliding out of her clothes and revealing her painfully thin body. “Wow, milaya moya, eat, yes? At dinner.” her mother seemed content with this, her thin fingers slipping around the garment and unzipping the back so Faina might step into it. It fit to a tee, hugging her stick-like figure, although honestly she thought it no different then the countless gowns she'd worn for other formal occasions. “Don't tell me what to do, you inconsiderate hag.” she stated the words nonchalantly, something her mother might have otherwise missed and thankfully, she did. Faina was usually respectful but her patience was worn thin with her mother, she didn't have near enough stamina to deal with her antics day after day after day. Bringing the cigarette back up to her lips, she sucked on the end and watched amusedly as the bright red lipstick wore off, leaving lips around the edge of the paper stick. “You shouldn't smoke, yes?” came her mother's slightly irritated voice. “Must leave smell behind, yes? Like a tray of ash.”. Faina shook her head, the corners of her mouth turning down as she stepped easily into a pair of heels that elevated her from around five foot five to five eight. It wasn't like she'd be getting dressed up if she didn't have to, it wasn't like she wanted to go to this or even had any remote interest in the Warwick boy. The fact that her parents were tagging along didn't make it any more tolerable.

Forced to leave her cigarettes behind, the female felt the intense urge to hack her mother to death with a pick axe, unable to be pushed quite so much at one time without snapping, but thankfully her father intervened and saved her a trip to JDC. “Ready, yes?” he questioned and Faina nodded, to which he seemed to frown at her stature but nod regardlessly towards the door. “We shall go, then.” Faina followed slowly out the door, and it wasn't long before, after passing the ride to the restaurant by staring at the traffic, they arrived. Wiping the expression off her lips, she felt her mother's hand on the base of her spine, reminding her stand straight as if she wasn't already, and at the same time pushing her towards the restaurant. Her palms itched for a cigarette.

The second her eyes fell on the male, her frown deepened. He was nothing like the traditional Russians she was used to, obviously not even half of their origin. They were trying to kill her. Cocking her head slightly to the side, the girl offered her hand in a greeting, not a smile in sight and raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him not to kiss it. As her mother covered with his parents over the punctuality issue, Faina straightened her spine and slid into the seat the waiter had pulled out for her, gracefully unfolding her napkin on her lap and taking a sip of water. Her palms were sweating with the craving, the avoidance of food obviously not top on her agenda at the moment. “Apologies for the lateness, dear sir.” she stated, her voice dry and harsh. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be speaking to him, and she certainly didn't want to marry him. Good christ, he couldn't even keep his spine straight. Stupid American pigs.

NAME: juno
EXPERIENCE: 1-2 years.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? an ad.