Back to Basics, Polo and Girleh.

My Character:

Name: Odette Lidelle

Age: 23

Appearance: Odette is, without a doubt, beautiful. With lovely slender legs and stunning curves, she well fits society’s accepted stamp, yet she defies it with her wardrobe. She is forever dressed in gothic clothing, usually a tight-fitting black hoodie over a collared white shirt with a loose red tie, and baggy yet flattering black cargo pants, flaunting buckles and chains.
Her face is always immaculately made up, with thick dark eye makeup and lipstick usually either dark red or black. She has multiple piercings on her ears, one on her right eyebrow, one in her nose, and two on her lower lip. On her left shoulder is a tattoo of a swan, formed from intricate, swirling black forms. Her hair is raven black, but streaks of it are dyed a bright, gothic red - as though her hair itself were bleeding.

Personality: Odette is the sort of girl that everybody agrees is bad news. One glance at her guarantees it, and the few who bother to cast her a second seldom do so with good intentions. She comes across oddly defiant and submissive all at once, and she treats the world with bitter amusement, taking what life hands her with grim acceptance, or else throwing it back with sheer humour, if it suits her.
Her sanity is questionable, or so say those who know her.

Odette was running through the dark alleys of New York City. It was the third time that week, but she vowed that it would be the last. Three strikes, that was what they had said. Three strikes, and she would be locked back in the asylum, and who was she to fight it?
She was just a girl. Stupid, powerless... She laughed under her breath, grinning into the darkness as she sprinted on. The doctor wouldn't find her this time. This time, she would get away. This time, for sure!

She dashed around a corner, and found herself at a dead end, surrounded by overflowing dumpsters and the stench of dead rats and urine. Bottles lay broken in the gutter, and tripping over them was some drunk fool, barely held up by his drunk friends.
Odette stopped, narrowing her eyes as she stepped back away from them, only to feel the grip of a sweaty palm on her wrist. She turned her head, and glanced coolly over her shoulder to see a filthy man with rotting teeth grinning at her.
"What now, gorgeous?" He grunted, trailing a revolting finger over her neck, "Wha's a pretty thing like you doin' 'ere, huh?" He asked greedily, "'Ey, mates!" He called to his friends, "Don't this 'un look lost to you's, huh?"
They looked up, eyes fixing on her like greedy hyenas, and began approaching.
Odette's eyes were fixed on the ground, and she did not fight, but as they drew closer, she began to laugh out loud, her lips pulling up into a grin as her red-streaked, raven-black hair fell over her face.
"What are you all waiting for?" She asked under her breath, a sickening calm, amused lilt to her voice, "Scared that somebody will lock you away?" She grinned wider, and laughed out loud, her downcast eyes still hidden as her cruel laughter mocked her attackers.

Before her drunken adversaries could react to her apparent madness, a stranger appeared in their midst. A tall young man with long, dark hair and an Irish accent. Odette raised her eyes but not her head, looking up like a prisoner, but her lips twisted into a cruel smirk.
She felt her other wrist grabbed, and allowed herself to be dragged away from the group of men like a pathetic rag doll. That was what she was, after all, wasn't it? Just a plaything for the men; the perverts and the fiends.
She followed after her 'rescuer' with the air of an obedient dog - good girl that she was - but there was an eerie defiance in her pale face.
At last, she grew weary of being the victim, and pulled her hand back from the Irishman, rubbing her wrist and holding it to her chest as she smirked at him, watching with dark, deadly eyes.
"That was quite a stunt." She commented quietly, her ladylike voice beautifully unsuited to her gothic appearance. There was a pause, and then she laughed, eyes flicking upwards to stare unseeingly at the starless night sky overhead.
"Such foolishness." She muttered, smirking in amusement to herself.

[center]
Juan looked back to her stopping as she pulled her wrist away, a cruel smile on his lips. "Me foolish? Says the woman who just walked to a group of men. Anyone would think you were begging for it! but hey you might as well be." He stated harshly.
"I guess I was foolish enough to think you'd want the help. So yes I guess I am foolish." He informed her before goign to walk away from her. he was the fool for even thinking someone lik her would want help from a pick pocket like him.

Odette just smiled bitterly at the stranger's analysis of her behaviour, shaking her head in grim amusement.
"Ah, that's what they all think." She muttered with a ladylike chuckle, "That I need their... 'Help'." Her lips lifted elegantly, and she cast a glance at the man as he began walking away from her.
"You're leaving?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
She didn't understand why he would just abandon his 'prize' - that was what she was, was it not? Another man's scraps, stolen by a scavenger. She didn't care - she knew that she was an object to be toyed with and enjoyed however men saw fit, and she accepted that. Why should she fight it? One day they would regret it. One day, they would all see, because she would have her revenge.
She knew that she was useless, helpless, weak - it was simply the role of a woman, of course... But what they did not know was that she would not forget, and she would not forgive.

[center]
"Little girls that play with fire get their fingers burnt." Juan commented simply as he looked over to her for a moment. He let his gaze slide over her before meeting her own once again. He looked back to where he was walking before stopping.
"Do I have a reason to stay?" He questioned her simple, he tucked his dark hair back behind his ears it was the only reminder of his true past...

Odette chuckled at the man's comeback, shaking her head. 'little girls', huh...? Well, that made sense. She's had her share of burns. When she didn't respond, the man began to leave, then paused and turned back to ask, "Do I have a reason to stay?"
"Did you have a reason to pull me away from those thugs?" Odette retorted, "I should think this is the same thing. After all," She pouted pathetically, "I'm just a little girl who can't take care of herself."
Flashing a devious smirk, she flicked her hair out of her face, and perched her hands on her hips as she waited for the stranger's response.
Whatever happened now, it was all the same to her. She had accepted that she was powerless to keep bad things from happening - all that she could do was take revenge in the future. That was what it meant to be, as this fool put it, a 'little girl'.

"Appreciate it?" Odette chuckled, "I didn't ask for your help, stranger." Her eyes narrowed defiantly, and she lifted her chin with that strong sense of pride that, no matter what happened, she simply refused to forsake. There was fire in her dark eyes, and a certain ferocity so intense that it seemed almost to shoot daggers. That look in her eyes had always been the be all and end all of the suffering she had endured; it was something dangerous, something unbreakable, and as with everything fierce and beautiful in the world, this just urged the scum of the earth to do everything in their power to break her.
Finally, she turned her head away, hair falling down over her eyes, and spat out a simpering little laugh. "I suppose I should choose the lesser of two evils, then?" She mused out loud, speaking to herself, then turning her attention back to the man before her.
"Go on, then. If you're any different to them," She pointed back over her shoulder, "Then prove it." Her eyes narrowed, "And God have mercy on your soul if you don't."
Her jaw clenched defiantly for a moment, then softened as she approached him.
I'm just a little girl, after all... Can't protect myself, can I? Doctor's coming knocking. Gotta run, gotta hide... But not for long. Oh no. Not for long...
She smiled to herself, hair falling elegantly over her eyes as she bowed her head, turning her demented simper to the dirty ground.