Post by red <3 on Feb 12, 2015 18:31:15 GMT
ILSE KAZIMIRA VON ROSENTHAL
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Height/Weight: 5'8 - 146lbs
Shape: Classic hourglass figure - on the thicker side, but by no means fat. Well-endowed, full hips, and a narrower waist. Everything is nicely proportioned and curved. Often called an "Austrian Marilyn Monroe" by the men that have known her.
Play By: Amber Heard
Age: 23.
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Fears: Spiders, spinal injuries, needles, losing her looks, losing her wealth, drowning.
Habits: Bites her lower lip when she's bored or thinking, zones out in boring conversations, speaks German when she's thinking, does things in sickening repetition to get it right(even if she's already done it to perfection).
Likes: Perfection, order, psychological horror movies, books, opulent jewelry and clothing, interesting conversations, philosophy, science, world history, dark colors, classical music, classic rock, her home country, warmbloods, chocolate ice cream, quiet nights, black coffee, lingerie, solitude, lavish parties, burlesque, champagne, macarons, bubblegum, red lipstick, diamonds, louboutins, Prada, southern accents, polite men, poetry, men in suits(suits are to her what lingerie is to men).
Dislikes: American culture, soft colors, rococo, ignorance, people who are uninterested in history, cheeseburgers, gaited horses, disorder, flaws, cheap jewelry, fur coats, "peasants"(basically, people with no class), slang, appaloosas, banjo music, cowboy hats, cowboy boots, disobedience, rednecks/hillbillies, grape soda, sports on TV.
Other Info/Overall Personality: Elegance, class, luxury, and opulence all seem synonymous with Ilse here. She likes everything from her food to her clothes to be the very best. Anything less than grossly extravagant is garbage to her. The "simple life" is like last season's Prada; worthless. She likes banter and scandal to keep things interesting. That being said, she gets bored easily. And when she gets bored, that's when she can become pathological and destructive.
She can reshape herself to reshape the world so it's better to her liking. She can do all of this with charm, flair, and effortless toxicity and no one would be the wiser. It's difficult to read her, as she can wear many faces depending on the day. Underneath all of her false facades, though, is a polite, eloquent, and genuinely kind woman. But it is perhaps her wealth and social status that has made her see people as toys to play with. She's never had to see through the eyes of those less fortunate than her. Though, if you can believe it, she does none of these things with a malicious heart. She sees nothing wrong with manipulating her world because she's always been taught that she is and always will be the master of her universe and can sculpt it however she pleases. The thought has never really come to her that peoples' feelings can get caught in the crossfire and she makes many, many enemies this way without even realizing it.
Ilse often uses her feminine charms to get her ambitions sated in a male-dominated society. Of course, it usually is not with her body or any between-the-sheets persuasions. She's very particular about who she gives herself to. It's almost always with a smile and a bat of her lashes that she can have most men crawling. She has a certain charisma and magnetism that draws people to her like a moth to a flame. She can promise you the moon with one face and steal your immortal soul and your boyfriend with the other.
A stone-cold perfectionist to the core, Ilse will do everything to her best ability and beyond, even if it kills her. Procrastination and laziness is the enemy. If anyone gets in the way of her ambitions, they can expect nothing less than complete destruction of their reputation, their emotions, and their social life.
When she doesn't have a plan or an agenda in mind, she's very polite and proper. With the airs and graces of a princess, it's rare that she speaks with slang(she doesn't understand American slang, anyway), profanities, vulgarity, or rudeness. Playful sarcasm and banter may be present but she will hardly ever be rude. Despite her privileged upbringing, she isn't snooty or narcissistic. She's proud and enjoys the finer things in life.
She can reshape herself to reshape the world so it's better to her liking. She can do all of this with charm, flair, and effortless toxicity and no one would be the wiser. It's difficult to read her, as she can wear many faces depending on the day. Underneath all of her false facades, though, is a polite, eloquent, and genuinely kind woman. But it is perhaps her wealth and social status that has made her see people as toys to play with. She's never had to see through the eyes of those less fortunate than her. Though, if you can believe it, she does none of these things with a malicious heart. She sees nothing wrong with manipulating her world because she's always been taught that she is and always will be the master of her universe and can sculpt it however she pleases. The thought has never really come to her that peoples' feelings can get caught in the crossfire and she makes many, many enemies this way without even realizing it.
Ilse often uses her feminine charms to get her ambitions sated in a male-dominated society. Of course, it usually is not with her body or any between-the-sheets persuasions. She's very particular about who she gives herself to. It's almost always with a smile and a bat of her lashes that she can have most men crawling. She has a certain charisma and magnetism that draws people to her like a moth to a flame. She can promise you the moon with one face and steal your immortal soul and your boyfriend with the other.
A stone-cold perfectionist to the core, Ilse will do everything to her best ability and beyond, even if it kills her. Procrastination and laziness is the enemy. If anyone gets in the way of her ambitions, they can expect nothing less than complete destruction of their reputation, their emotions, and their social life.
When she doesn't have a plan or an agenda in mind, she's very polite and proper. With the airs and graces of a princess, it's rare that she speaks with slang(she doesn't understand American slang, anyway), profanities, vulgarity, or rudeness. Playful sarcasm and banter may be present but she will hardly ever be rude. Despite her privileged upbringing, she isn't snooty or narcissistic. She's proud and enjoys the finer things in life.
Parents: Wilhelm Steffen von Rosenthal - 55 - CEO of an oil company
Svenja Melaine von Rosenthal - 52 - computer engineer
Svenja Melaine von Rosenthal - 52 - computer engineer
Siblings: Christoph Engel von Rosenthal - 25 - male
Emmerich Konstantin von Rosenthal - 16 - male
Lisbeth Magdalena von Rosenthal - 23(twin) - female
Emmerich Konstantin von Rosenthal - 16 - male
Lisbeth Magdalena von Rosenthal - 23(twin) - female
Pets: Konrad - 2 year old male Weimaraner
( picture )
Show Name: Krieger von Schwartz
Breed: Friesian
Age: 7
Coat: Black
Gender: Stallion
Height: 16.3hh
Discipline: Dressage
For horses please include the stats
Speed : 4
Stamina : 5
Intelligence : 10
Agility : 10
(updated 8/10/14)
( picture )
Show Name: Krieger von Schwartz
Breed: Friesian
Age: 7
Coat: Black
Gender: Stallion
Height: 16.3hh
Discipline: Dressage
For horses please include the stats
Speed : 4
Stamina : 5
Intelligence : 10
Agility : 10
(updated 8/10/14)
History: Ilse was born in Vienna, Austria to an almost obscenely wealthy oil company CEO and a successful computer engineer. Along with her twin sister, she was the couple's first little girl and was lavished with gifts and affection from the time of her birth. She got everything she asked for if only she said please and looked up at her parents with big blue puppy eyes. Ilse was given the world and she was denied nothing. She was often considered the "favorite", even though her parents would never admit it to the other children. Her twin sister was tomboyish, brash, and crude. Ilse was the always pretty, always proper, always perfect little girl. Her mother dressed her like a doll and her father constantly spoiled her. Needless to say, she was and still is a textbook daddy's girl.
When she was 5 years old, her father bought her her first horse: a German Riding Pony gelding she named Goliath(despite him being 14hh). Once she got on him for the first time, she was hooked. Over the years, she had the best riding instructors money could buy, including attending the Spanish Riding School in Vienna for a few months. She became very good at show jumping and cross country by the time she was 18. By then, she owned a Westphalian mare named Agathe with whom she preformed in many 3-day eventing competitions and did particularly well. It was through travelling all over Europe together and winning ribbons, trophies, and monetary prizes that Ilse had developed a strong emotional bond with Agathe. On Ilse's 20th birthday, she and Agathe were competing in a 3-day event in Luxembourg. When the mare went over the final 5' jump on the show jumping course, she fell during her landing and snapped her leg. Ilse sustained a few broken bones as well, but her beloved mare had to be euthanized, despite efforts to help with her recovery. Losing her best friend was difficult for her and she spiraled into deep depression for about 8 months after Agathe's death.
She was able to overcome her grief and her father purchased her another horse: a Friesian stallion bred in Germany named Krieger von Schwartz. Ilse was still never too keen on jumping again so she worked on perfecting her dressage skill, winning several prestigious shows across Europe with the Friesian stallion.
Always being daddy's princess, Ilse requested to journey to the United States to compete against Americans. And so the von Rosenthal family decided to move to the USA for a while so Ilse could train and compete here. She currently lives with her family in a fancy house located in a sprawling countryside.
When she was 5 years old, her father bought her her first horse: a German Riding Pony gelding she named Goliath(despite him being 14hh). Once she got on him for the first time, she was hooked. Over the years, she had the best riding instructors money could buy, including attending the Spanish Riding School in Vienna for a few months. She became very good at show jumping and cross country by the time she was 18. By then, she owned a Westphalian mare named Agathe with whom she preformed in many 3-day eventing competitions and did particularly well. It was through travelling all over Europe together and winning ribbons, trophies, and monetary prizes that Ilse had developed a strong emotional bond with Agathe. On Ilse's 20th birthday, she and Agathe were competing in a 3-day event in Luxembourg. When the mare went over the final 5' jump on the show jumping course, she fell during her landing and snapped her leg. Ilse sustained a few broken bones as well, but her beloved mare had to be euthanized, despite efforts to help with her recovery. Losing her best friend was difficult for her and she spiraled into deep depression for about 8 months after Agathe's death.
She was able to overcome her grief and her father purchased her another horse: a Friesian stallion bred in Germany named Krieger von Schwartz. Ilse was still never too keen on jumping again so she worked on perfecting her dressage skill, winning several prestigious shows across Europe with the Friesian stallion.
Always being daddy's princess, Ilse requested to journey to the United States to compete against Americans. And so the von Rosenthal family decided to move to the USA for a while so Ilse could train and compete here. She currently lives with her family in a fancy house located in a sprawling countryside.
Name/Alias: Levvy/Lev
Age: 19
Experience: 'bout 7 years
Additional Bits'n'Bobs:
Rating: 10 :]
Do you think we need to improve or add anything?: Nahh.
Rating: 10 :]
Do you think we need to improve or add anything?: Nahh.
i hope a horse RP post is okay?
The duo-hued temptress' strides were cautious and well-placed as her scythes carelessly flicked splashes of the chilled salt water. Slender muscle rippled beneath a mildly scarred ectoderm with each smooth arc of her columns. Her wistful lampistrae wandered wildly across every contour of the terrain before looking out over the sea which was obscured beneath the veil of nightfall. There was a small mass of land that peeked timidly over the horizon. It seemed to beckon her, call silently to her using the language of Mother Nature's allure. How she wished she was a bird or a pegasus of myth so she could soar across the clouds and over the sea to see what secrets that island held. Damn this restricted equine body of hers! Damn that sea that blocked her from that sweet, sweet feeling of discovery! 'Perhaps the Gods art merciful, Ariadne. When you finally melt into death's kiss, maybe the divines will reincarnate you as an eagle,' She spoke to herself in the warm secrecy of her mind. But perhaps death's plain would be much too inviting! So adventurous she was that she would demand to see every crevice of heaven and read its most closely guarded scrolls before she came back to this garish world.
So monotonous, this world could be at times. Her exploration would never cease, however. She always hoped to find a place more magical than this. Though she loved nature and its wonderful (and at times, terrible) beauty, her mind was a much better friend than the mundane company of reality. As she walked across the lone shore, she utilized her practiced imagination to make this place much more fantastical that it truly was. In her mind, a dragon lifted his mighty skull to breath flames into the ocean, boiling it away as the brave knight went to slay the reptilian beast of colossal stature. The sand was was no longer sand, but plates of gold veined with lapis lazuli. The stars fell from the sky and impaled the trees, turning them into pillars of a majestic palace which housed the king of the world. Gods walked beside her and as the mythical beasts marched with her, an otherworldly warhorn signaled their attack on an army of vile creatures that would seem out of a dreamlike story. The absurd illusions were just that: illusory. However, in her mind, it was just as real as the waves that curled around her pistons.
Though her thoughts were capricious and her mind always seemed to be wandering upon a castle in the sky, it did not change that she was profoundly aware of what went on in this realm. She was not naive, nor stupid. She knew of tyranny, death, misery, distress, apostasy and the belligerence of this land's residents. She was painfully aware that the light alliance was in the need of a revolution and that she wanted to be part of it. The benevolent enchantress would lay her life upon an altar of sacrifice to the gods of mercy and light. It seemed, however, that this pessimism did not stifle her romantic views of things. She still hoped for her knight in shining armor, her own castle on a cloud, a happily ever after and a permanent escape from the paranoia-inducing thoughts that burdened her. So repugnant was this world that it was refreshing to leave it, if only for a breath of whimsical pulchritude.
In her phantasmic absence from reality, she felt herself lose footing upon the unstable surface of the shifting sands beneath her blades. She slipped, going down on her knees and causing mild pain to her joints as the shifted beneath her tautly pulled epidermis. She quickly regained her composure, skillfully evading a full collision with the ground. The minuscule rocks entrenched themselves between her immaculate threads of hair, attempting to erode her newly bruised skin away to the bone. She could tell from the throbbing pain that a sickly blueish gray bruise was forming under the alabaster hairs. Not even a few seconds after her fall, she heard the voice of a stranger coil around her lobes with an air of dignity and majesty. A beleaguered breath was forced from the fleshy prison of her lungs and into the open as she tried to regain her composure before speaking. It had proven difficult to pick up her fallen elegance that seemed to tumble to the sand along with her. Especially since this was not just any stranger. This was a stranger of magnificent stature, ethereal beneath the gaze of the resplendent moon as her violet gaze beheld him. He seemed so very marvelous that she was almost certain he was a product of her imagination that had refused to retreat back into her subconscious as she commanded. For just a second, she stood before the larger beast, dazzled both by his almost mythical appearance and that she was no longer alone. She was now in the company of an angel, or so she thought. Ariadne always thought the impossible. 'Oh, mother, you taught me how to kill and maim but never how to converse. You horrid shrew, may you burn in hell for making me look like an oaf.' She soon resigned herself to the embarrassing fact that he likely witnessed her brief conversation with the ground and just let it slip her mind. She once again regained her defiant elegance as she spoke with subtlety "Good evening..." She began, nodding her head in respectful acknowledgement. "Evidently, I'm not the only one who can't resist the nocturne allure," She said with a faint Mona Lisa smile. Clearing her throat, she began to speak again with a soft tone that seemed unbefitting to her tenacious demeanor. "It's rare I see anyone here after the sun sets. What brings you out beneath the moonlight, stranger?" She inquired with an almost childlike curiosity.
So monotonous, this world could be at times. Her exploration would never cease, however. She always hoped to find a place more magical than this. Though she loved nature and its wonderful (and at times, terrible) beauty, her mind was a much better friend than the mundane company of reality. As she walked across the lone shore, she utilized her practiced imagination to make this place much more fantastical that it truly was. In her mind, a dragon lifted his mighty skull to breath flames into the ocean, boiling it away as the brave knight went to slay the reptilian beast of colossal stature. The sand was was no longer sand, but plates of gold veined with lapis lazuli. The stars fell from the sky and impaled the trees, turning them into pillars of a majestic palace which housed the king of the world. Gods walked beside her and as the mythical beasts marched with her, an otherworldly warhorn signaled their attack on an army of vile creatures that would seem out of a dreamlike story. The absurd illusions were just that: illusory. However, in her mind, it was just as real as the waves that curled around her pistons.
Though her thoughts were capricious and her mind always seemed to be wandering upon a castle in the sky, it did not change that she was profoundly aware of what went on in this realm. She was not naive, nor stupid. She knew of tyranny, death, misery, distress, apostasy and the belligerence of this land's residents. She was painfully aware that the light alliance was in the need of a revolution and that she wanted to be part of it. The benevolent enchantress would lay her life upon an altar of sacrifice to the gods of mercy and light. It seemed, however, that this pessimism did not stifle her romantic views of things. She still hoped for her knight in shining armor, her own castle on a cloud, a happily ever after and a permanent escape from the paranoia-inducing thoughts that burdened her. So repugnant was this world that it was refreshing to leave it, if only for a breath of whimsical pulchritude.
In her phantasmic absence from reality, she felt herself lose footing upon the unstable surface of the shifting sands beneath her blades. She slipped, going down on her knees and causing mild pain to her joints as the shifted beneath her tautly pulled epidermis. She quickly regained her composure, skillfully evading a full collision with the ground. The minuscule rocks entrenched themselves between her immaculate threads of hair, attempting to erode her newly bruised skin away to the bone. She could tell from the throbbing pain that a sickly blueish gray bruise was forming under the alabaster hairs. Not even a few seconds after her fall, she heard the voice of a stranger coil around her lobes with an air of dignity and majesty. A beleaguered breath was forced from the fleshy prison of her lungs and into the open as she tried to regain her composure before speaking. It had proven difficult to pick up her fallen elegance that seemed to tumble to the sand along with her. Especially since this was not just any stranger. This was a stranger of magnificent stature, ethereal beneath the gaze of the resplendent moon as her violet gaze beheld him. He seemed so very marvelous that she was almost certain he was a product of her imagination that had refused to retreat back into her subconscious as she commanded. For just a second, she stood before the larger beast, dazzled both by his almost mythical appearance and that she was no longer alone. She was now in the company of an angel, or so she thought. Ariadne always thought the impossible. 'Oh, mother, you taught me how to kill and maim but never how to converse. You horrid shrew, may you burn in hell for making me look like an oaf.' She soon resigned herself to the embarrassing fact that he likely witnessed her brief conversation with the ground and just let it slip her mind. She once again regained her defiant elegance as she spoke with subtlety "Good evening..." She began, nodding her head in respectful acknowledgement. "Evidently, I'm not the only one who can't resist the nocturne allure," She said with a faint Mona Lisa smile. Clearing her throat, she began to speak again with a soft tone that seemed unbefitting to her tenacious demeanor. "It's rare I see anyone here after the sun sets. What brings you out beneath the moonlight, stranger?" She inquired with an almost childlike curiosity.
