CALVACANTE, Kismet.

[KISMET CALVACANTE]

NOW LOOK AT THIS ,

name:
alias: kissy, chenoa,
age: twenty-two.
sex: female.
sexual orientation: heterosexual.
occupation:
mafia:
face claim: [size=1]- (*)[color=d73160 for girls 31aed7 for boys]CHARACTER NAME,[/color] MANGA | CHARACTERS NAME[/size][/ code]

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[blockquote][size=6][font=impact][color=Black]HOLD THE PHONE[/color][/font] ,[/size][/blockquote]

-- three 100x100 avatars of your face claim go here. make sure to center them --

[size=1][blockquote][blockquote][b]negative attributes:[/b]
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[b]good attributes:[/b]
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[b]the likes:[/b]
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[b]the dislikes:[/b]
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[blockquote][size=6][font=impact][color=Black]TO FREE HIS MIND[/color] ,[/font][/size][/blockquote]

[size=1][blockquote][blockquote][b]weapons & items:[/b]
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[b]history:[/b]

[b]rp sample[/b] [size=1]The sudden rush of air and paint filled the empty streets with sudden noise, sounds of rattling and constantly sweeping against a hard surface; to anyone else sounding quite peculiar enough to investigate yet no one was around to witness the blonde tagging a brick wall. Colors of neon pink, green and red began to flirt with one another to create a perfect image that represented her gang, working ever so delicately with the paint despite getting some on her arms and clothing. It didn't matter. Soft blue hues glazed over her art work while shuffling many cans towards the side, wondering if there were any use for other colors. [color=Pink]"Perfect~!"[/color] The blonde bombshell finally exclaimed while nodding quite cheerfully, leaving the half empty paint cans on the ground while making a calm escape towards the highway. A few cars passed through the street but no lonely figures were found in the sidewalks, having the lone mischief tagger assume she was alone. It was evenings like this she truly enjoyed to be alone instead of being caught at a party or enjoying the night on a town with her brother. Hey, even the bad girls needed a day to catch some R&R and what better way to do so with a few midnight tags?

White heels glistened from the eerie glow provided from street lights, illuminating the very silhouette of her travelling silhouette as she dressed for the evening in a simple blue dress sprinkled with white polka dots; she wore no makeup and wore her thick blonde waves in a small braid of sorts while allowing the rest to flow beyond her shoulders in a furling type of fling. Slender digits wrapped about the strap of her purse while she crossed a few streets and dissapeared into an alley way, unprepared to see the fallen young man in front of her.[color=Pink] "Oh!"[/color] Surprised sea green jewels focused upon the crumpled mass of flesh while eyeing the pool of blood collecting under, wondering if there was any life in him. She approached him and stalked into a full circle around him, ocassionally giving him a soft nudge with the heel of her shoe. [color=Pink]"Hmmm."[/color] She didn't know who he was or where he came from but she figured the noise she heard earlier that night was from him and a few others having a fist fight. Street fighting wasn't one of her favorites and her brother often engaged in them daily, coming home in a bruised mess; what was the point in beating each other up for no gain? Boys are so stupid.

[color=Pink]"Well, I guess I better take you home . . ."[/color] Despite the blonde's small size she was pretty strong, training under heavy amounts of street boxing before she came to New York and swift skills involving her hands. Carefully she placed his fallen body upon part of her body while shuffling forward, thanking god and any beings up above that her apartment wasn't so far away. Blood sprinkled the floor and his arm wrapped about her shoulder, providing him little strength to move and all the room she needed to bring him inside a large building of apartments. Thankfully Reginald was gone for the night so that left the questions of "who the hell is that?" and "what's he doing here?" for much later. Kismet's knees buckled from exhaustion as she tried to lower him unto the couch gently but ended up dropping him quickly against the cushions. [color=Pink]"Oops . . . sorry, doll."[/color] A soft feminine voice reached his ears as she lowered towards his half dying form, tilting her head a moment before creating future plans as to what to do with him. Only time would tell where he came from and what in the world he was doing to get himself in this state. Yet she couldn't figure out why she wanted to help him - maybe it was his helpless state that spoke to her sensitive feminine side.[/size]
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