Post by ARAZIA VARGAS on Mar 19, 2011 23:34:04 GMT -5
Arazia Vargas
[/i]
“Aprili fa li ciuri e le biddizzi, l'onuri l'havi lu misi di maju.”
~Sicilian proverb meaning “April makes the flowers and the beauty, but May gets all the credit.”
[/center]
NAME:[/font] Arazia Vargas
AGE: 16
GRADE: Junior
NATIONALITY: Sicilian
POSITIVE TRAITS:
- Artistic - Her specialties are theatre, music, and art such as painting and architecture.
- Loyal - Arazia is very proud of her accomplishments as a country and is very offended when she is not recognized as an unique individual and just another Italian.
- Bilingual - Due to being under the control of many different countries over the years, Sicily has become fluent in a variety of languages including: Greek, Latin, Arabic, Norman, Lombard, Provencal, German, Catalan, French, Spanish, and Italian. These abilities stuck with her even when she became a high school student.
- “Green thumb” - Arazia is very skilled at growing a variety of plants from fruits to vegetables, herbs and flowers
- Kind-hearted - Arazia is very sweet and gentle to everyone she meets, not wanting to think poorly of them until she has a reason to.
- Family-oriented - Arazia is very fond of those she is related to and is willing to go the extra mile to help them. Her “family“ includes: Greece- “father“ (first to colonize Sicily), Roman Empire- “father“ (colonized Sicily as well), Spain - “best friend/like an older brother“ (saved her from France and took care of her many years following), North and South Italy - “brothers“ (Sicily is an autonomous region of Italy).
- Excellent cook - Arazia is well known for her abilities in the kitchen and is rather proud herself for her skills.
NEGATIVE TRAITS:
- Poor
- Melodramatic - Arazia tends to take her acting abilities off the stage…
- Picky eater - Similar to her “brothers", Lovino and Feliciano, Arazia prefers her own cooking to others, though she occasionally may try foreign food (except France’s, regardless of how well he cooks).
- Naïve - Arazia is use to being sheltered and taken care of by others and is not very educated in the workings of the world.
- Extremely Sensitive - She does not take any criticism easily.
- Less-than-desirable Connections- Close ties with the mafia and illegal immigrant activities have given Arazia a tarnished reputation.
- Shy/Timid/Easily Frightened - Arazia can be a bit shy around new people, especially if they are men due to a rather rough past of various male countries invading her island. It may take time for her to adjust and feel comfortable around strangers.
LIKES:
- The arts
- Literature, folklore
- Wine
- Olive products
- Citrus fruits
- Cooking
- Cannoli, marizipan, and a variety of other sweets
- Flowers
- Family
- Festivals, celebrations
- Sleeping
- Sunshine
DISLIKES:
- Foreign cooking
- Poor manners
- Being alone
- France - He invaded her as a country, treating her poorly, taxing her, etc. until Spain saved her
- Bland surroundings
- Poor manners
- Being ignored
- Fighting, disagreements of any sort
- Bad weather
FEARS:
- Being considered “Just another Italian” for the rest of her life and not her own, unique, person.
- Major droughts
out of character
NAME: Carly
OTHER CHARACTERS: None~!
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:
Stirring, silence. Turning occasionally, trying to get comfortable, but the morning light made it impossible to fall back asleep. With eyes still shut, Sicily slowly sat up in her small cot. She pushed back her wavy brown hair and let the sunlight filtering through her window warm her fair face,
“Buongirono, Signor Sole!”
Cheerily, she greeted the new day, a lovely day on the world’s most beautiful island in her opinion. Yes, Sicily had gone through many struggles, but such trials never stopped the sun from shining, the wind from wafting tangy salt air off the endless seas surrounding the land. She managed to get past the difficult times and enjoy life, one day at a time.
After a moment, Sicily got up, eager to go and tend to her small olive grove and maybe enjoy a nice glass of wine once finished. Yes, being a autonomous island was a difficult life… She thought with a smile as she stretched and yawned the clouds of sleep away. It was about…3...2...1,
…Something seems….
That Sicily noticed this were a bit off from usual. One clue may have been her room was, well, not her room. Small and cramped, it was nothing like the spacious house in the fields that she knew and loved. It was stuffed with a bunk bed not a foot away from her own tiny bed and three desks. How someone managed to fit all that in the tiny living space was beyond her imagination. Not to mention the piles and stacks of things and odd objects that Sicily knew did not belong to her. Finally, the fact that there were other people sleeping in the bunk beds, tipped her off completely. Something was wrong, very very wrong.
For a time, all Sicily could do was stare, her jaw agape with shock and confusion. Who were these people? Why were they in her room, no this room? This wasn’t even her room! Surely I did not have one too many glasses of wine last night… At least, I don’t think I did… The longer she stood in the crowded space, the more her nerves screamed at her to figure out what in God’s name happened here. Not wanting to stay any longer, Sicily ran, and almost tripped several times to make her way to the door. She flung it opened to reveal a hallway also lined with many other doors. A few people passed by, giving her strange looks as she stood there, wild-eyed in baby-blue pj’s. On the verge of a panic attack, Sicily looked at her door of the tiny room to gain some knowledge as to where she was. On it was a sign listing a few names she did not know and,
”Arazia Narcisa…M-my…mortal name?!……”
Just below her name read a sign scrawled in messy blue ink and a drawing of the boot of Italy and Sicily,
“KICK ME! I’M SICILIAN!”
Sicily stared blankly, finally realizing where she was, for where else do people turn into vicious snakes, biting and poisoning anyone who meets below their standards?….
"H-HIGH SCHOOL?!"
“Buongirono, Signor Sole!”
Cheerily, she greeted the new day, a lovely day on the world’s most beautiful island in her opinion. Yes, Sicily had gone through many struggles, but such trials never stopped the sun from shining, the wind from wafting tangy salt air off the endless seas surrounding the land. She managed to get past the difficult times and enjoy life, one day at a time.
After a moment, Sicily got up, eager to go and tend to her small olive grove and maybe enjoy a nice glass of wine once finished. Yes, being a autonomous island was a difficult life… She thought with a smile as she stretched and yawned the clouds of sleep away. It was about…3...2...1,
…Something seems….
That Sicily noticed this were a bit off from usual. One clue may have been her room was, well, not her room. Small and cramped, it was nothing like the spacious house in the fields that she knew and loved. It was stuffed with a bunk bed not a foot away from her own tiny bed and three desks. How someone managed to fit all that in the tiny living space was beyond her imagination. Not to mention the piles and stacks of things and odd objects that Sicily knew did not belong to her. Finally, the fact that there were other people sleeping in the bunk beds, tipped her off completely. Something was wrong, very very wrong.
For a time, all Sicily could do was stare, her jaw agape with shock and confusion. Who were these people? Why were they in her room, no this room? This wasn’t even her room! Surely I did not have one too many glasses of wine last night… At least, I don’t think I did… The longer she stood in the crowded space, the more her nerves screamed at her to figure out what in God’s name happened here. Not wanting to stay any longer, Sicily ran, and almost tripped several times to make her way to the door. She flung it opened to reveal a hallway also lined with many other doors. A few people passed by, giving her strange looks as she stood there, wild-eyed in baby-blue pj’s. On the verge of a panic attack, Sicily looked at her door of the tiny room to gain some knowledge as to where she was. On it was a sign listing a few names she did not know and,
”Arazia Narcisa…M-my…mortal name?!……”
Just below her name read a sign scrawled in messy blue ink and a drawing of the boot of Italy and Sicily,
“KICK ME! I’M SICILIAN!”
Sicily stared blankly, finally realizing where she was, for where else do people turn into vicious snakes, biting and poisoning anyone who meets below their standards?….
"H-HIGH SCHOOL?!"
[/blockquote]
((I apologize this banner is seriously stretching the page! I'm working with a really crappy graphic editor at the moment. This will never happen again! >3<))[/size]
