Bronte Cartier

Sun Apr 21, 2019 12:26 am

Bronte Cartier
Name: Your name is Bronte Cartier. You’re named after Charlotte Bronte particularly, but you draw your namesake from all the Bronte sisters. Your name rhymes, and many are aware of this. You’re kind of over it.
Nickname(s): Bron (disliked), Hey you (unappreciated), Cutie pie (pls don’t), Cartier (a little more acceptable). Honestly, you prefer to go by Bronte.
Gender: You identify as a female. You use she/her pronouns.
Age: You are sixteen years old. Recently turned too.
Birthday: You were born on February 21st, which is a weeks after valentines day. You were born in the NewYork-Presbyterian Brooklyn Methodist Hospital. It took sixteen hours of labor but then you were welcomed to the world.
Sexuality: lesbihonest here, you’re obviously gay.

Personality: You’re very sweet and talkative. Someone once told you you talk faster than you skate, and thats saying something. There’s rarely a moment when you’re silent. Usually those moments are on the ice, when you’re so focused that you forget that anything else exists. Thats when you can lose yourself. All your troubles melt away. You’ve always had a strong drive. You know what you want, and you know how to get it. It becomes all you can worry about.
You have a love for all things old. Old movies, old records, you love the history behind it all. You love the way things were made with so much care and time back then. You look for the imperfections, the things that make it unique. Even in people.
Messy people are the best to you. Perfect is boring. You love watching people who don’t have their shit together, because you can see the way they think. You love the flaws that people have, because its what makes them, them. You love the people who are too loud, or love things unabashedly.
Even then, you hold yourself to high standards. Just because you love flaws doesn’t mean other people do. So you hide them and work until you’re polished. Thats what ice skating is. You can fall down as many times as you want in rehearsals, but when you’re in front of the judges you have to be perfect.
Some people say you forgive others too quickly. You don’t know how to let people go. You have too much faith. You like to see it as giving people second chances, and believing that nobody is inherently bad. We’re all human. Or, we’re all part human.
Flaws: see above.
Eye color: Brown
Hair description: Dark brown, thick and wavy.
Height: 5’6”
Skin tone: Tan
Ethnicity: You’re a mix of a lot of things. You’re about 1/4 syrian and the rest is a mix of european countries, mainly france.
Body structure: Lean
Scars/tattoos/piercings/etc: You have your ears pierced, but thats about it.
Clothing Style: You usually wear jeans or shorts with t-shirts or other colorful clothing. You try to find a mix between comfort and style. Sometimes you’ll wear leggings and workout clothes when you’ve recently come off the ice. When you’re performing on the ice, you tend to wear light colors and lots of sparkles. You have fancy blades too, they’re pink. You think they’re fun and unique and when you showed them to your coach for the first time she laughed.

Place of Birth: Prospect Heights, Brooklyn, New York City, New York, USA
Mortal Parent: Elaine Cartier. She’s a professor in film at NYU. She used to be a cinematographer before you were born, but she retired after. She recently got tenure. You and her are really close, and she’s so supportive of you in everything you do. You spend holidays and the occasional weekend with her. She goes to all of your competitions though.
God Parent: Aristaeus, god of bee-keeping, fruit trees, hunting, and cheese making. He met your mom at a farmers market where he was selling honey, jam, and cheese. They dated for a couple months before your mom got pregnant. He stayed around for the birth but left soon after.
Relationship with God Parent: You think he’s pretty cool but you’ve never really met him. Though, you strongly suspect every single man running a farmers market stall.
Abilities: Bees just kind of love you. If you’re in an outdoor area, they’ll usually find you and kinda hover around you, almost protectively. They’ll never sting you, and usually you can ask them to do things, and they’ll listen. Whenever you’re working at the bee hives in camp, you explain what you’re doing so they don’t get confused. You think they appreciate it. You also know when fruit is ripe enough to make jam. Any honey, cheese, or jam you make is just better than everyone else’s. You’re not sure how it works but you say the secret ingredient is love. You’re a pretty good marksman with a bow and arrow. If you weren’t already committed to figure skating you might try to switch. Though, whose to say you can’t win a winter and summer olympic medal?
Powers: none.
Weapon: Bow and celestial bronze arrows.
Pets: He lives with your mom, but you’ve got a black cat named Void. He’s really friendly and loves to be held and pet. Whenever you visit home you leave covered in black cat hair.

History: The beginning of your life is filled with honey and freshly cut flowers and holding your mother’s hand as you walked down the busy streets of the farmers market. You loved the variety of people who showed up, the endless stalls of handmade goods and fresh fruit and vegetables. When winter comes around the fruit and vegetables are replaced with duck and goat cheese and pumpkins and beeswax candles. You spend hours every week there, year after year, season after season.
When you’re six you’re put on the ice for the first time. Your legs are shaky and you grip your mothers hand tightly through your mittens, but by the end you’ve fallen in love. The week after that you have your first lesson. By the end of the year you’re learning figure skating full time. When you’re ten, you’re taken in by a real coach. When you’re eleven you go to your first competition. When you’re fourteen you’re deemed a rising star, sweeping the junior competitions. Six months ago you were invited to join the senior division, and you attended the US Figure Skating Championships, where you win silver and go onto Worlds where you place sixth. In between all of this though are endless hours on the ice, falling again and again, hours training and conditioning and failing. Still, you get back up and try again. On the ice you can lose yourself, you can forget about everyone around you, and you can fly. One day, you want to go to the Olympics. One day.
Meanwhile, your life at home is nice. You live in an old brownstone with a small garden out back. You learn to garden and prune and love the outdoors. Your mom shows you old films and tells you about the techniques they used back then. She buys you old records to play, and together you learn to appreciate old things along with the new.
Your mom has a couple boyfriends, though none of any importance. They come and go, a revolving door of faces that seem to blend together. You can’t even remember the names of some of them. It will always just be the two of you. Its hard to think about having dance parties in your pajamas with another person there. It’s weird to think about walking down the farmers market with a third person in tow. You feel bad about it, but you’re kind of happy when none of the men work out. Though, maybe your mother is waiting for the person that you like too. Except you don’t want to hold her from happiness. So, nowadays, you try to smile and make friends with them, even if you’re not their biggest fan, even if the thought of your mother dating someone frightens you a bit.
Your father’s identity was never a secret, per say. Your mother was always vague with the details, but you knew he was a greek god. You knew you weren’t supposed to tell anybody. So you just told others that he wasn’t in the picture, and usually their embarrassment for bringing it up was enough to keep them from asking more questions.
When you’re ten, your mother drives you to camp for the first time. It takes you a couple days to realize this summer camp is different, but at the end of the week you’ve been claimed and you start to adjust to just how big the world is. Two years later you meet your best friend, Halley, and you become inseparable. You cry at the last campfire of that year, but you come back the weekend after that, and the one after that. You’re not really a summer camper, because you’re here a lot, but you also go home a lot, so you’re somewhere in between.
A Memory:
There are so many fleeting moments that make up your life. However, here are two. One. It’s a warm summer morning in Brooklyn, the sun is high in the sky, the day is clear, and you are walking along side your mother past stalls of homemade jam and honey, flowers, knitted creations, and more. You’re carrying a bouquet in the crook of your arm, full of yellow and white flowers that will adorn your kitchen table tonight. Your mom is eyeing the stalls, on the lookout for the right greens and poultry and spices for tonight’s meal.
It’s the last day before you return to camp for the summer, and your mother always wants a proper send off. Even if you’ll be back later that week to see her and pick up whatever you forgot to pack. Still, its a tradition. One free from boyfriends. Just you, mom, and Void, who will try to steal from your places when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
Two. Summer is turning into fall, as the sun sets over the horizon, bathing the amphitheatre and its inhabitants in a golden light. It’s the last day of camp for many, which means everyone gets a bead to place on a necklace, the campfire goes even later than normal, and everyone gets a little extra leniency when it comes to curfew. You’re sitting next to Halley, falling into a fit of laughter after your cabin leader calls another person “Honey” for the billionth time that night. You know you’ll only be an hours drive away, but it seems so far, despite being in the age of social media and cellphones. Even as the night gets colder, and Fauna’s voice is starting to get on your nerves, you don’t want to leave this moment. Yet, you must. The smell of campfire lingers on your clothes for ages afterwards, as you collapse in your bunk, falling asleep knowing that tomorrow will lead to more changes.
Notes: this was gonna be a really long form but then. It wasn’t. So be happy it didn’t take you five minutes to read. There’s about 1830 words in this but I’m not gonna get coins for this so I could lie and say its 2000 and you’d be none the wiser.

Sun Apr 21, 2019 12:47 am

We love a sweet, bee magnet, figure skater. Approved! Give yoself 1550 coins for your form <3

Bronte Cartier

Bronte Cartier

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