setting yourself on fire.

scout

n a m e ;; Achelle Grace Marchovi (ay-kell grays mar-koh-vee).
a g e ;; Sixteen.
b i r t h d a y ;; December 8th, 1995.
g e n d e r ;; Undecided.
g o d > p a r e n t ;; Aphrodite.
c l a i m e d ;; Yes.
m o r t a l > f a m i l y ;; She has one real part of her family left. Her father. She despises her mother. And her step-mother. She doesn't need any womanly guidance. She has the only person she needs: Jesse Marchovi.
y e a r s > i n > c a m p ;; None.

h i s t o r y ;; Achelle Grace Marchovi was born to the goddess Aphrodite and the mortal: Jesse Marchovi. Achelle was never fond of Aphrodite, thinking she was the arrogant, loose woman. The goddess still hasn't done anything to prove her daughter wrong. Jesse, her father, would gather her round, tucking her in with stories of Greek myth. He'd tell her how she was his pretty little warrior. How she was strong; a fighter. She admired her father and the lengths he'd go to protect his only child.

As Achelle grew older, Jesse started seeing her less and less. No more myths at bedtime. Not around Dahlia. Fourteen-year-old Achelle knew, from the look in her father's eyes, that he found love. She packed her things, acted on impulse, and left the night before the wedding. If Jesse wanted another child, another woman—then, too bad. This one was gone.

Achelle felt free at last. She lived on the streets of Manhattan; going to the theater during the day, and wandering the streets at night. Every day was a new adventure. She found her best friend, Sage, outside the theater. They struck up a friendship, becoming inseparable. She thought he was just another homeless kid or runaway who was a constant theater-goer. When she spotted his hooves, she knew exactly what he was: a satyr. He confessed and told he was supposed to take her to Camp Half-Blood. Achelle was hesitant, thinking she was hallucinating on drugs. Then she remembered she doesn't do drugs, so she agreed to go with him to this "camp." The rest is history.


p h y s i c a l > a t t r i b u t e s: Achelle's hair is a dark shade of blonde with natural highlights that reaches down to the small of her back. Her hair is naturally straight, but is capable of holding a soft wave or curl in. She has a long fringe that hangs in her face, slightly covering her eyes. Her hair has a healthy glow that's soft to the touch. When it's extremely hot and humid out, she'll pull her hair into a braid or ponytail, keeping it out of the way, as her fringe frames her face. She's rarely seen out without a beanie or beret atop her head.

Achelle has almond-shaped eyes that range from pale, baby blue to a cyrstal clear cerulean. She has soft brows that exclaim "I don't don't try too hard." Achelle has a sweet, heart-shaped face. She has dimpled cheeks when she smiles and a faint button nose. Achelle doesn't care for make-up, as it makes her want to vomit. She doesn't like the texture, nor the smell. She doesn't see the point in accentuating her so-called beauty. Plus, that crap's nasty. Why do her half-siblings try so hard? Ugh, it makes her shudder. Her lashes are long and thick, which bothers her when she blinks a lot. It just puts hairs in her eyes, resulting in her to tear. She tends to wear short tees over long-sleeves, wrapping her neck in a homemade scarf. She'll wear straight-legged or skinny jeans underneath, with the occasional sweats, if she wants to relax. She only has a few pair of shoes since she never found much interest in them, mostly including Vans. Achelle stands at an "adorable" height of about five-foot-one. She's rather short and hates it. However, she uses it to her advantage. At first, she'll rub someone as sweet and cute, then she has them caught off-guard and she'll attack (if they're annoying her).

p e r s o n a l i t y ;; That girl's a firecracker. Achelle is arrogant and believes she's always right—yet she actually is (99.99% of the time). It's because she knows the subject through-and-through. She never gets into an argument, unless she's sure she can back herself up. She is very talkative, always using large words that most people wouldn't use in conversation. Some may call her a show-off or that derogatory term for a female dog, but she calls it her ambition. She’ll make you want to set yourself on fire, being that irritating. Although, she usually has the best intentions at heart. She just rubs you wrong. She's extremely sweet and caring, but her impulses get the best of her. It’s just that she's misunderstood. She doesn’t have any real friends as they find her irritating and obnoxious. She's like that for a reason. Living on the streets taught her one thing: you must be prepared to survive. Keep your guard up. In other words, stay guarded.
f a t a l > f l a w ;; Manipulation (depending on how you look at it) and her arrogance.
p e t s ;;
t a l e n t s ;; Knowing factual evidence, winning arguments, singing, dancing and acting (courtesy of years of classes). She has a secret love affair for ballet, her viola and the flute. Mainly, the fine arts. Oh, and videogames are her guilty pleasure
w e a p o n s ;; A small dagger she keeps sheathed in leather, attached to her belt, a Swiss Army knife (oh yes) and wooden sword that reminds her of Link's in Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker. Sometimes she dresses in a tunic and white tights or legging, like so.
y e a r -r o u n d > o r > s u m m e r ;; Year-round.
e t c e t e r a ;; WARNING: MAKES YOU WANT TO LIGHT YOURSELF ON FIRE!