THOMAS, ALEXANDRA LILLIAN

[alex]

NAME: Alexandra Lillian Thomas
AGE: 16
HEIGHT: 185 cm
WEIGHT: 120 lbs
EYE COLOR: Blue
HAIR COLOR: Dark blonde / brunette
ETHNICITY: Anglo - German
LIKES: spending time with her parents, being an only child, dancing, singing, greasy foods, covering vegetables in chocolate, photography, her dog named 'cat', her cat named 'dog', her godfather wan, pineapples, potatoes, american money, fashion, florals, colonial muskets, country days, bowler hats, city nights, chinese food, alice in wonderland
DISLIKES: the c-word, swearing, strawberry jam, strawberry ice cream, strawberry fields, strawberries in her general, her extended family, when her mother yells at people, flying, intentional stupidity, being stuck indoors, alcohol, drugs.
SECRETS: She's a terminal cancer patient
GRADE AND/OR OCCUPATION: Tourist
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual but has the occasional girl-crush
PLAY BY PLAY: Frida Gustavsson

PERSONALITY:

Alex is the type of school you use to make fun of in school. No, really you did. Maybe not to her face but you gave her weird looks in the hall. It's not that she's a complete social retard but just slightly socially inept, as she is quite friendly and sweet but does not know quite how to convey this in a normal way she either comes off because of this as completely awkward, completely moronic, or completely insane. She is for the most part a quiet person, she does not have much to say to other people but she does have a weird habit of wanting to read other people, wanting to imagine life through their eyes. She sometimes follows people around trying to get a snippet of what they go through day by day.

She is not confrontational. She does have an impulsive temper but it quickly dies down because she is frankly 'pussy-whipped'. She tends to keep things inside of herself only to have them explode on herself later. Because she has had cancer for most of her life, she does not interact much with other people her age, she tends to make older friends more easily because she presents a wide-eyed innocence, they no longer know. In regards to her impending, and slightly unavoidable death she is passive. She does not like to think that she's dying but she does not want to waste her time either. It's a sensitive topic for her and she likes to think of herself as a person who is not ruled by their emotions. She does not like to wear her heart on her sleeve.

PLACE OF BIRTH: London, England
DATE OF BIRTH: December 30th 1993
FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper Class
FATHER: Gage Elijah Thomas
MOTHER: Cassandra Evalyn von Erich-Thomas
SIBLINGS: - - - -


HISTORY:

Her story, as most stories of life do, occurs a few years before Alexandra Thomas entered the world. It starts in the southern countryside of France, in a boarding school where the sons and daughters of the wealthy and the powerful went to learn to become the wealthy and the powerful. Now, in this boarding school in the southern countryside of France was one boy; Gage Thomas who was tall, attractively slim, adorable, with disportportionately large ears and a girl; Cassandra von Erich tall, unattractively slim, intolerable, with an unimaginably beauty face who wooed said boy when she threatened to shove a catheter into his penis, who wooed said girl when he shoved a doughnut into mouth. Since then, it was blind love.

To say it was perfect, would be a daunting prevarication as you see the boy, happened to be suffering from at that time had been assumed to be terminal leukemia and the girl, at later time was thought to be suffering from at that time had been assumed to be terminal lesbianism. But the young couple over-came those obstacles in due time. They were married in Montenegro, contemplated divorce on their honeymoon in Sarajevo, and eventually settled down in London. He owned a modeling agency and she as a doctor in a psychiatric hospital and both their professions were sustained by a steady trust fund from those wealthy and powerful parents we mentioned earlier. They continued on in seemingly domestic bliss for three more years, during which time she adamantly opposed of having any form of child with him. Except one magical night, we'll say in May driving along the seaside, their wedding song played on the radio in his vintage Aston and he pulled over and kissed her lightly . . . Eight months later on one mild, winter's night in London where the rain was pouring as her father recalls like "God was jizzing from heaven" and the labour process was later described by her nurturing mother as; "I requested abortion, they gave me more demerol". But eventually, dilated vaginas and post-martum depression aside. Alexandra Lillian Thomas came into the world, named by and after a controlling grandfather and an obsessively compulsive, crackwhore cousin. What a way to start?

Despite her unexpected arrival, Alex was certainty welcome in her home. Her father was a natural father; he held her when she cried, pointed out every feature of hers which was his to friends and family, played with her, cared for her, loved her like he still does. Her mother, took more time to learn. The first year was hell for her, she may of even dropped her once or twice but it was hard for her to learn to be the mother she never remembered. But eventually she learned, she became deathly protective of her little girl. Her 'fucking amazing' bundle of joy. She kissed every cut, cared for every scrape, a hug for sting until that one day came where not even a kiss could help.

Leukemia as most cancers are can be attributed to genetic factors and from her father she inherited not only her light blue eyes but also the disease. At first her parents were torn over it, her mother blamed her father and her father blamed himself but as most parents in this situation tend to forget they suddenly remembered but it was not about them. It was about Alex, after then every moment had been dedicated to getting her better. Every new treatment, every new clinical trial, every extra hour of chemo was given to her. There were years that it worked but it always had a habit of creeping up. Eventually, they realized that there was nothing they could do anymore and that she should just enjoy the predicted six months she had left.

That's what brings Alex here, to Hawaii. She figured that if she had to die she wanted to do it with a good tan and away from everyone she knew. Her parents are here however, keeping a watchful eye on their little girl and as most teenagers would, she finds that insufferable. So for the time being she enjoys wandering around Hawaii by herself, trying to make sense of it all.

ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:

Her bare soles scraped against the rough plank wood of the porch. It was early out, the sky was gray and hazy drowned of any color or vibrance. Her hand reached for the lit joint lifting it to kiss her lips. She sucked hard, the embers of the her stick flamed orange, respiring color back in the world. The smoke licked her coarse throat, her head dropped lifelessly to the weather-beaten beam.

It had been raining a lot. Everyday that week. Some days it drizzled like teardrops from heaven and other days like today it pummeled like God was pissing from above. The sound of the rain hit the roof, making a rhythm that fitted her state better then any Pixies or Steve Miller Band album ever could. The smell of salt-water and pikake flowers hit her nostrils, and pulled her out of layers of herbal induced reverie, heavier then water. She brought herself up. Her long legs stumbled against each other if they were just getting use to living on land. She walked to the front of the lawn, the wet blades of the unkempt grass brushed against her feet washing away the dry sand. Her hand reached out and grabbed the single lawn gnome and quickly sheltered it by shoving it underneath the soft fabric of her sweater.

She cared about that lawn gnome, more then she probably should of. She got from a garage sale she passed by on her way back from the beach. He was forgotten, placed in a box underneath the the broken toys, worn clothes, unread books, and vinyl records. He looked like any ordinary lawn gnome. White beard, green cap, yellow shirt, his brown pantaloons were pulled down exposing his buttocks for all in the most cheeky of manners. He was a novelty, a hasty purchase by it's former owner because it brought them humour for those few seconds. He was placed on their front lawn with care. But years past, that owner had a family and responsibility and the lawn gnome was thrown in a bin to be sold without a second glance. She had pulled him out of that cage of a bin and took him straight to the counter. She still remember the crunch of the one dollar bill in her hand as she handed it to the former owner, it still blew her mind that something so precious could cost so little. It wasn't even the gnome itself that made her attach so much to it, but it was the place it held in her new life.

Her feet moved quickly up the porch steps once more, her arm knocked against the frame against the door as she entered the house, a look of grimace appeared on her face as she knew it was just going to be just another bruise. The young girl was covered with them -- yellow ones dotted her long legs the size of a sand dollar, purple ones on her upper arm and shoulders which seemed to always be there like a tattoo gone wrong, and the current bane of her existence was a blood red bruise on the small of her back.

She pulled the now dry gnome from her shirt and held it protectively under her arm, covered from waves of misfortune and destruction. As she passed the small kitchen, she flicked on the metallic switch of the old crank-up radio they had to listen to the surf-reports. She wouldn't bother turning dials and messing with radio-waves today, it wasn't a surfing day at all. Instead she let the radio be, undisturbed the mess of wires and circuits which somehow made it work. The voice of Mad Dog Kalua (host of Honolulu's number one/only radio station) echoed through the house, soon his voice faded out replaced with the sounds of The Beach Boy's singing Little Saint Nick. For a few moments, she forgot what season they were in. . .they hadn't decorated yet unless you could consider the countless bongs, clothes, and empty pizza boxes lying around as decoration.


She continued onto the bedroom, with the gnome securely in her hands. He was still sleeping, on the mattress they left on the floor. The box from the frame they did not manage to fix together now acted as a hamper. The room was a mess, everything around the house was a mess. After all, who were they other then lost souls of high society; they never really had to pick up after anything in their life. She moved herself onto the bed as lightly as possible covering her cold, wet hand with the warmth of her sweater as she did before gently shaking Dorian awake. It was weird how quickly everything happened, what started off as sneaking around to each others houses to talk all night escalated to furniture shopping at IKEA. But she loved it, how their lives just seemed to flow together into one continuous stream.

Billie passed him the gnome with a playful glint in her blue eyes, "The lone survivor." her soft, voice remarked as she rested her head on the pillow, to look at him eye to eye. Her voice breathed once more, "It's time to wake up."

NAME: Elle
EXPERIENCE: 3 years.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? Juno