roquelaure, raquel vonne

[raquel vonne roquelaure]

MY MOTHER NAMED ME Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor (Past Life), Raquel Vonne Roquelaure (Reincarnate).
BUT EVERYONE KNOWS ME AS Liz (Past Life), Raquel Roquelaure (Reincarnate).
I WAS BORN ON February 27th, 1932 – Elizabeth Taylor, February 27th 1990 – Raquel Roquelaure.
AND I DIED ON N/A.
I'M FROM Hampstead (Elizabeth Taylor), Lake Placid (Raquel Roquelaure).
AND I RESIDE IN Coney Island, Present Day.
MY DOCTOR DIAGNOSED ME AS Reincarnate of Elizabeth Taylor.
IF I HAD TO CHOOSE, I'D SAY I LIKE Males.
ODD AS IT IS, THEY SAY I RESEMBLE Lana Del Rey.
* INFECTION STATUS: Negative.

PEOPLE WOULD DESCRIBE ME AS Roquelaure has at her disposal fabulous wealth--and what one can do with wealth and a physique like Roquelaure's is most fascinating. Always having had an eye for fashion, Raquel Vonne Roquelaure is prone to wearing the finer varieties of clothing, preferring to wear fine skirt or pant suits to jeans and tee-shirts. Roquelaure is rarely seen without her immaculacy; it is rare that her hair is not perfectly styled, her nails manicured and her make-up elaborate. Even on Roquelaure's "off" days she makes an attempt to look absolutely beautiful. Since having become older, the color of Roquelaure's wardrobe has largely washed out to clothing of a fairly homogenized color scheme--but it should be noted that Raquel does not solely wear white. Rather, she prefers neutral colors which accentuate the curves without being distracting. Roquelaure largely prefers a more classic wardrobe, borrowing her style cues from the screen sirens of old--but like many things there is another side of the coin in Roquelaure's dress sense, and many have cited Roquelaure as being either lewd or innovative with her choice in high-fashion, impractical but extravagant clothing. It would seem, for example, that Raquel Roquelaure and double-sided tape are well acquainted. Whether or not Roquelaure dresses in this way for shock value or for her own pleasure remains to be seen. What is clear is that, whatever Roquelaure dresses in, she looks quite beautiful. She walks and behaves with a demeanor derived of the Old Hollywood Sirens after which she crafted her image--and with that comes a great deal of dignity, class, and sex appeal.

Overall, Raquel's stance on life has come to be incredibly cosmic. Though sympathetic to nearly every living being, perhaps in part due to the nature of her abilities, Raquel tries to view all things from an even and fair perspective. Even when struck with misfortune, Roquelaure does not allow herself to be overcome with grief, instead believing that all things take place for a reason, and that it is necessary to simply move on and live life. Though more passionate than this text would come to suggest, Raquel has come to subscribe to the doctrine that there is but one axiom to life: and that is the fact that, above all else, life goes on. Fortunately, compassion graces the otherwise thoughtful personality of Raquel Roquelaure, her delightful heart reaching out toward others with kindness and a desire to enlighten those around her. She is a woman who seeks inner peace and love - and though such philosophies do not seem to fit in Western settings, she believes that all peoples are capable of happiness and compassion. One who affords warm smiles and reassurances often, it can be seen that, for all of the strength and pride she possesses, Raquel also has a deserved humbleness which others often find attractive. A figure of womanly wisdom, there is a grand diction to Roquelaure which shows in what words she does speak. She is not the type who avoids grand orations, instead speaking with simple eloquence which offers the point without overly complicating that which she chooses to state. Never one to argue a point without valid reasons for doing so, Raquel has yet to subscribe to any single religion or method of thinking, instead attempting to be as open-minded as possible. Forward and honest, Raquel attempts to see others as being the same, giving others the benefit of the doubt before outwardly judging them as criminals or other terrible things.
BUT THEY DON'T KNOW MY STORY Even with all the star treatment accorded her over the years, the truth is undeniable: It has never been easy being Raquel Roquelaure. Gentle and caring at her core while often appearing to be petulant and self-consumed, Raquel is a complex woman who has usually been misunderstood, not only by others, but, it would seem, by her as well. It's true that throughout her life she has claimed moments of clarity, times when she felt she was finally able to see her past in proper perspective. However, one must wonder, given the unique circumstances of her upbringing, if she would ever truly have the ability, the prescience, to see it all clearly.

In trying to understand Raquel's disposition, one must first understand her childhood. Born into an affluent family in New York, young Raquel possessed an engaging quality and stunning beauty that seemed to defy reason. From the beginning, her mother, Sara—a former theater actress—believed her daughter to have potential that rivaled the cosmos. In her mind, Raquel had the makings of only a great star. However, Sara also knew that it would never happen unless her daughter believed it and worked at it. So from the time Raquel had been about two, Sara endeavored to create in her the pinnacle of dignity, grace, elegance, and beauty. With the passing of the years, nearly every aspect of the young girl's behaviors would be carefully considered and altered. Her speech. Her posture. Her gait. It was as if Sara was a director coaching the promising new star of a landmark movie-- only she was a mother, and this was Raquel's life, not a film.

Because Sara's optimism about Raquel's chances in show business came from the heart, it was inspiring if not a bit alarming. Sara even orchestrated how her daughter would interact with others: If a broad laugh was too much, it would be replaced with a shy giggle. As a result, Raquel's early life soon became a marathon training session for succeeding in a business which her mother had only found marginal accomplishment. For a young Raquel Roquelaure, perfection soon became the only acceptable option. Anything less than perfection would be considered failure.

The dissection of Raquel's self at her mother's hand also brought with it a legacy of irrationality. The belief that perfection's only alternative was failure, has left Raquel feeling, at times, that life can be unbearable. She has felt out of control, so much so that she has gone to lengths such as feigning deathly illness, and being hospitalized so that she didn't have to make films, and didn't have to take direction. At times, Raquel's doubts have even given her to thoughts of suicide, an attempt which she did once take so as to end her misery. Fortunately, the kindness and patience of those closest to her have saved Raquel from several attempts of taking her own life.It has yet to become clear to Raquel that life is a gift. Because of the way she had been learned at a young age, Raquel tends to still think in shades of black and white, perfection and or imperfection, and as such, she is often given to great uncertainty about her life.
I GREW UP AROUND Kevin Roquelaure (Father), Sara Grant-Roquelaure (Mother).

BEHIND THE CHARACTER, I'M REALLY Raquel.
MY TIMEZONE IS Central.
I WRITE LIKE THIS

IT WAS ALL very surreal. Emma Frost could not quite recall when it had been that she had decided to let her life turn around so drastically, but having endured one tragedy after another left the woman in an almost dismal state from which she thought she might never have recovered from. Thinking back now, the woman almost found herself wondering how she had survived the turmoils of the recent past--but it did not take long for her to realize that what had pushed her through the last tragedy had been the very same thing that had brought her through the many that had come before it. Frost's diamond-hard will, the ambition and desire to bring to fruition that things that one desired, was what made her a survivor above all else. Apocalyptic fire had reigned upon her and she chose not to feel the flames. Death befell so many around her but still she persisted, subsisted, all with the intent of succeeding and bringing to light the things in which she was most invested. A secret reflection had the woman doubting it if her current circumstance was real. She could not help but wonder if this tide of peace that had overcome him, this wave of positivity and acceptance which seemed to hover around the X-men in this place, was actually true. She had spent so many months with the others fighting for the right to live that it hardly seemed possible that they were safe now. It was generally accepted that all was well now, and that everything had changed, and that ignorance had been swept off of the table in favor of acceptance and open-mindedness. The humans trusted them now, welcomed them. Though Frost wore a positive face like the others, she did not believe that for so much as an instant. She had seen far too much.

Though Frost would have been lying if she said that San Francisco did not feel different, she knew that the target upon the collective mutant back would never be removed. Even if they all managed to migrate to and integrate into the way of life in San Francisco, their genetic makeup would forever mark them as different in the eyes of the public sphere. Because of that, there would always be those that detested and ridiculed them for being what they were. There would always be a world of people that hated and feared mutants and more specifically the X-men, and while those people would stay away for the time being, Frost knew that it was but a matter of time before such people would come to San Francisco after them, meaning to do them, and the people the X-men sought to protect, harm. It was altogether that the people of San Francisco would come to blame the X-men in time for the enemies that they attracted; and the X-men would likely accept that burden of responsibility. That, however, would not stop them from protecting those they had sworn to protect. As long as there were beings in the world who would do harm to the innocent, the X-men would rise, they would fight in the name of the dream and they would work tirelessly for the mutant-human cause. It was their way. In time, Frost had largely come to accept it as her way, though not once did she cease to act by principle of her own judgment. Frost fought the good fight, but she had no intentions of letting herself be murdered or ruined. Frost had an empire to form, to run. She needed to see to it that all that she did was excellent. If that meant being the grey stain upon the X-men's black and white, she had no trouble with that notion.

Of course, she knew that she was merely being cynical. The breath of realism never failed to waft down Frost's back. She never forgot the specters of doom and destruction. She kept watch, she remained vigilant. Frost kept her wits about her; one could never know when chaos would erupt again. Emma only hoped she would be able to stomp it out in time.

And truly, for now, things were good. Everyone was happy and energized with the adrenaline that came with both the idea and the execution of a large-scale exodus. Frost could tell, even without her telepathy, that everyone was quite happy right now and that there was no need to kill such spirits so early. She could feel that Scott was happy, as well, and that for the first time in a long while he was feeling strong again. Scott was feeling like he was exactly who he wanted to be. He was feeling strong, and brave, and hopeful. What he needed for the time being was warmth, support, a strong partner who would stand beside him in this dramatic time. Emma Frost had finally gained the control over the mutant population that she had sought--it seemed--and as a leader of the Xavier foundation she knew that now more than ever it was important for her to become the leader that she had been playing at being for so long. As the team was introduced, she and Scott donned their practiced smiles and walked out onto the stage together, followed by their closest friends and allies. They waved and smiled and the clicks of cameras around them never seemed to cease. Though California was certainly not the first state in which Emma Frost would personally have chosen to live, she had to say, it was treating the X-men a lot more kindly than New York had. Perhaps the Californians were nearly as progressive as the Madame Mayor proclaimed.

AND I THINK YOU NEED TO KNOW No.

[inna.]

accepted! go ahead and start your claims and you're free to start threading! <3