Post by anna on May 30, 2010 13:59:35 GMT -5
Full name: Annabelle Eveline Sheridan (actually Annabelle Wheelan, but goes by her maiden name of Sheridan in Brooke Haven)
Age: 40
Birthday: July 7
Occupation: Bar Owner
Appearance: Annabelle is of an average height, a little under 5'6" tall. Her brown hair reaches to below her shoulders in gentle waves. Her eyes are a light brown, but sometimes appear a lot darker or a little more greenish, depending on the light. A lot of people underestimate her age by a few years, as she takes pains to stay fit and never leaves the house without making certain her makeup is perfect and conceals any sign of age. Annabelle is perhaps the most fashion-conscious person in Brooke Haven and pays close attention to her wardrobe, standing out from the crowd with her designer dresses and fashionable shoes and jewelry. Her expression can switch from a charming smile to a condescending frown in an instant, but she usually wears a friendly - if somewhat practiced - smile.
Face Claim: Kristin Davis
Likes:
- Being the center of attention
- That no one in Brooke Haven knows her past beyond what she tells them
- Men
- Being wealthy
- Internet shopping
Dislikes:
- Snow - it makes walking in heels too darn difficult
- Hearing that she has changed the bar too much - those people can stay away if they don't like it
- Not finding a good sushi place within a hundred miles
- Being treated like an outsider in Brooke Haven at times - she is a local girl after all
Personality Traits: (at least 10, 3 of which must be negative traits)
- Concerned about appearances
- Charming
- Relaxed when in control
- Assertive
- Outgoing
- Organized
- Perfectionist
- Impatient with people who don't match her own level of perfectionism
- Self-indulgent
- Haughty
Family Tree:
- Father: Michael Sheridan - deceased
- Mother: Julianne Sheridan - deceased
- Siblings: None
- Other: Charles Wheelan - former husband (deceased)
- Pets: Jenny - Golden Retriever (mellow and trusting - inherited from her husband, but she likes her very much)
Hometown: Brooke Haven, MT
History:
Annabelle was born and raised in Brooke Haven. Her parents ran a bar in town called The Watering Hole, and she grew up there when not at school or hanging out with friends. Her upbringing was fairly normal, except that she grew into an exaggerated sense of self. It started with patrons at the bar saying something like 'oh, what a cute kid you are' when she was young, and only grew stronger with the attention some boys paid her at school during her teen years.
All that changed when she moved to Denver to attend university, somewhat torn between English and Law as her major. Life in the big town wasn't as easy or as cheap as she was used to. Soon she ran into a lack of funds, and she was sure she didn't want to flip burgers to make a living. Looking for a job, one day she discovered a job that sounded pretty good to her, an escort agency looking for fresh talent. Anna had always liked men, so why not get paid to hang out with them?
From some of the other escorts she learned poise and grace, and how to put a smile on anything, even if she didn't like it. By the time she turned 25 she had managed to get a degree in law with mediocre grades and made quite a name for herself in the escort scene, going by the name of Eve.
And in that scene she found a man who would provide her with everything she had slowly developed a taste for - money, fashionable clothes, being adored. He was old, but he was also rich, so when he proposed marriage, Annabelle agreed.
For ten years she lived with Charles in his villa, gave him what he wanted, enjoyed the high life, and had a few flings on the side with younger men. She always suspected that her husband knew about her affairs, but he seemed happy to have his trophy wife that was there when he needed her and who kept her affairs out of the spotlight, so he never complained, if he knew.
Then, two years ago, her husband died of old age. And then, a year ago, both her parents died when their car drifted off an icy road into Willow Lake. Annabelle hadn't stayed in close contact with her parents, but of course she attended the funeral and there she met a lot of people she knew from her younger days. They complimented her on her looks, admired her clothes - and asked her what would become of her parents' bar.
Dealing with that question forced her to hang around Brooke Haven for a while, and while it was her hometown, full of old memories, she decided that the town was too sleepy, too remote. The place could do with a new coat of paint. So she decided to stay and used the money inherited from her husband to revamp the bar, turn it into something more modern that agreed more with the tastes she had acquired while away. Back in Denver she would always be the widow of Charles Wheelan and too many people there knew about her past. But here she could be the queen bee, have the run of the town, without anyone ever knowing about her past. It was a perfect arrangement - especially after she hired someone to remove all traces of her past from the internet and settled in as just a local girl who had struck it rich and returned home after a long absence.
Nickname: Andreas
Age: Born in 1967
Years of RP Experience: A day more every day.
Other Characters: Ayesha McMillan, Chris Willis
"One hour to Kyndagh."
Kaya stirred at the announcement from her manager and slowly pulled the sleep mask off her face. Sleep had come and gone since the private jet had left Singapore and she had no idea what the time was - or what time zone they were in right now. But a look through the round window told her it would be day when they landed.
"We better get ready then," she remarked with a dry smile. Getting dressed, having her hair and makeup done, a briefing from her manager - it would take long enough for her to fully awake and conjure a smile to her face before she met her fans at the airport.
Kaya pulled a strand of hair into view and frowned, before looking around the cabin of the plane that had become her home away from home during her tour. "Will somebody please fix my hair, like right now, please."
As her stylists started to work on her hair and make-up Kaya looked to her manager, moving only her eyes. "What are we dealing with?"
"Lightweights, mostly. National papers and TV stations for sure, but the locals you'll handle easily. And you know how to handle the big stuff. Thye are all the same, after all." He knew she wasn't asking about details of the concerts. Kaya's performances were a well-oiled machine, with everything planned well in advance. But while the media could be controlled to some extend, with interview questions pre-arranged, there was always a small element of uncertainty when it came to the local media, people who usually flew under the radar of big acts.
"Two papers," he continued, "The Quill and The Daily Gazette. The Quill's gossip columnist is Chantelle Gallagher. Recently married. Just be your charming self and you'll do fine."
Kaya would have laughed if not for her make-up artist starting to work on her foundation. Her 'self' was just an act, but then, perhaps, she had been the act for so long that it had become her self. It didn't really matter. It was what she did, and she liked what she did.
She cast an eye on the photo of a brunette her manager showed her, together with a photo of a girl with shorter, darker hair.
"Christy Marshall," he explained. "The Gazette doesn't have a gossip columnist right now, but Marshall was their gossip columnist for a while. You might run into her. She's from New York, so you might want to play on that."
"Gallagher, Quill, married. Marshall, Gazette, New York. Got it." With her villa in LA and a house in Florida, New York wasn't quite home to Kaya, but it would give her something to talk - to enthuse - about, if needed. "What else?"
Her manager pulled another two photos from his file. "The Gazette has two music writers. Chadrick Vanderbilt." He held forth the photo of a young man. "I don't know much about his writing or interviewing style, but he's been through some personal troubles lately. Don't think he'll be a problem."
Kaya paid closer attention to the photo for a second and smiled. "Pretty young." She had handled far more experienced writers during her career. She had no doubts she could deal with this guy. But the second man... "That's Luka Hallstrom, the guitarist. He writes for this... what did you say, Daily Gazette now? He was pretty big a few years ago."
"Yes." Her manager nodded. "He knows the business from the inside. Just stick to the script if you should talk with him. No improvising. He can only report what you tell him, so tell him what we want printed, nothing more."
"Don't worry." Kaya closed her eyes, for her make-up artist to add a little color to her lids. "And if he asks any pesky questions I can always offer him a part on my next album. Should give me more than enough of an opening to turn things around and start talking about him, if I don't like him talking about me." She smiled. Winning 'interview judo' was part of her job. The right word here, the right smile there, it was all in a day's work. "Don't worry. As you said, lightweights all around. I dealt with a lot worse. What else?"
Her manager shrugged. "The usual. Kissing some babies at the local hospital, speech about women in business at the local university. Should be the most relaxing part of this tour, really. And you need some rest."
"Yes," Kaya grudgingly admitted. Several months on tour had taken their toll on her, but she wouldn't let that show in public. The show had to go on, and she was the show.
The thought turned her smile a little more genuine. She was on top of the world, more famous than most, and she liked it. What better life could there be? Compared to that, getting rest was just a pesky necessity.
Kaya stirred at the announcement from her manager and slowly pulled the sleep mask off her face. Sleep had come and gone since the private jet had left Singapore and she had no idea what the time was - or what time zone they were in right now. But a look through the round window told her it would be day when they landed.
"We better get ready then," she remarked with a dry smile. Getting dressed, having her hair and makeup done, a briefing from her manager - it would take long enough for her to fully awake and conjure a smile to her face before she met her fans at the airport.
Kaya pulled a strand of hair into view and frowned, before looking around the cabin of the plane that had become her home away from home during her tour. "Will somebody please fix my hair, like right now, please."
As her stylists started to work on her hair and make-up Kaya looked to her manager, moving only her eyes. "What are we dealing with?"
"Lightweights, mostly. National papers and TV stations for sure, but the locals you'll handle easily. And you know how to handle the big stuff. Thye are all the same, after all." He knew she wasn't asking about details of the concerts. Kaya's performances were a well-oiled machine, with everything planned well in advance. But while the media could be controlled to some extend, with interview questions pre-arranged, there was always a small element of uncertainty when it came to the local media, people who usually flew under the radar of big acts.
"Two papers," he continued, "The Quill and The Daily Gazette. The Quill's gossip columnist is Chantelle Gallagher. Recently married. Just be your charming self and you'll do fine."
Kaya would have laughed if not for her make-up artist starting to work on her foundation. Her 'self' was just an act, but then, perhaps, she had been the act for so long that it had become her self. It didn't really matter. It was what she did, and she liked what she did.
She cast an eye on the photo of a brunette her manager showed her, together with a photo of a girl with shorter, darker hair.
"Christy Marshall," he explained. "The Gazette doesn't have a gossip columnist right now, but Marshall was their gossip columnist for a while. You might run into her. She's from New York, so you might want to play on that."
"Gallagher, Quill, married. Marshall, Gazette, New York. Got it." With her villa in LA and a house in Florida, New York wasn't quite home to Kaya, but it would give her something to talk - to enthuse - about, if needed. "What else?"
Her manager pulled another two photos from his file. "The Gazette has two music writers. Chadrick Vanderbilt." He held forth the photo of a young man. "I don't know much about his writing or interviewing style, but he's been through some personal troubles lately. Don't think he'll be a problem."
Kaya paid closer attention to the photo for a second and smiled. "Pretty young." She had handled far more experienced writers during her career. She had no doubts she could deal with this guy. But the second man... "That's Luka Hallstrom, the guitarist. He writes for this... what did you say, Daily Gazette now? He was pretty big a few years ago."
"Yes." Her manager nodded. "He knows the business from the inside. Just stick to the script if you should talk with him. No improvising. He can only report what you tell him, so tell him what we want printed, nothing more."
"Don't worry." Kaya closed her eyes, for her make-up artist to add a little color to her lids. "And if he asks any pesky questions I can always offer him a part on my next album. Should give me more than enough of an opening to turn things around and start talking about him, if I don't like him talking about me." She smiled. Winning 'interview judo' was part of her job. The right word here, the right smile there, it was all in a day's work. "Don't worry. As you said, lightweights all around. I dealt with a lot worse. What else?"
Her manager shrugged. "The usual. Kissing some babies at the local hospital, speech about women in business at the local university. Should be the most relaxing part of this tour, really. And you need some rest."
"Yes," Kaya grudgingly admitted. Several months on tour had taken their toll on her, but she wouldn't let that show in public. The show had to go on, and she was the show.
The thought turned her smile a little more genuine. She was on top of the world, more famous than most, and she liked it. What better life could there be? Compared to that, getting rest was just a pesky necessity.
