Roquelaure, Chassagne Shania

[Deleted]

CHASSAGNE SHANIA ROQUELAURE

FULL NAME: Chassagne Shania Roquelaure.
NICKNAMES: None.
AGE: Twenty-Five.
GENDER: Female.
SEXUALITY: Polysexual.
STATUS: Single.
GROUP: Citizen.
GRADE: N/A.
MAJOR: The Humanities (whenever she was in school).
JOB OCCUPATION: Columnist.

HAIR: Chestnut brunette, and though naturally curly, Chassagne is fastidious in often straightening it. Typically, she chooses to keep her hair lengthier.
EYES: Chestnut Brown, they are interestingly nearly the same hue as her hair.
SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: Roquelaure has a scar on the sole of her foot, an accident from having stepped on a nail in a Casino which her parents were having renovated.
TATTOOS: She has several. Her lumbar is covered as well as her derrière in a large gardenia-like pattern. Her right hand is decorated in an ornate, seemingly tribal symbol.
PIERCINGS: Other than her stand lobes and cartilige, Chassagne's left ear has it's rook and tragus pierced.
PLAY-BY: Cheryl Fernandez-Versini.

LIKES: Nevada: The Silver State, progressive politicians, feminism, philosophy, stimulants, existentialism, parties, beaches, tattoos, piercings, classical music, clubs, coffee, intelligence, swimming, dry climates, sunbathing, dancing, intelligent conversation, rap, politics, equality, gender studies, psychology, the humanities, science.
DISLIKES: New York City and State, patriarchy, douchebags, entitlement, manipulation, emotional dishonesty, deceit, liars, self-pitying types, generic women, doormat women, the south, religion, sweating, cold climates, republicans.
FEARS: Spiders, being held at gunpoint again, New York City.
SECRETS: Chassagne has secretly struggled with an eating disorder, she has never had treatment for it, and has on multiple occasions passed out for lack of nutrition.
PERSONALITY: Staggering through life with an eager nose and a sharp tongue, Chassagne Roquelaure views the world through an existential nihilst's lens. Rather than subscribing and identifying through any external institutions such as religious groups, government parties, or even a coven, Chassagne is a maverick in that she prefers to identify as an insignificant force upon the planet, in fact, she firmly subscribes to the belief that her insignificance affords her relative bliss. Because of her degree in The Humanities, Chassagne finds others as relatively simple to dissect and understand. It is for this reason that Roquelaure isn't the simplest person to get to know and befriend. In addition to her proclivity to observe others and secretly diagnose or write them off, Chassagne's blunt honesty is often unpalatable and repulsive to others.

Roquelaure is under the impression that the world is full of average people eager to display their manufactured identities, thus, it is best to smile and nod, allowing them their minor delusions. Such an impression had been adopted through being born and raised in Las Vegas, the seat of the entertainment capitol of the world, and having encountered all too many too big to fail aspiring actors, dancers, musicians, models, and other personalities. To Roquelaure is a tenacity and hustle that is often unseen in those her own age, and it is this tenacity that makes her appear to others as bitter, cynical, and outright crass. Chassagne isn't one to become emotionally involved in the affairs of others which, to her, are always contrary to outward appearances. Believing that everyone is their own flavor of chaos, Roquelaure prefers to remain alone, rather having lost any drive to win the affections of others around her.

Chassagne is very semantic and is very careful about the words she chooses to use as well as the words that others use with her. This stark focus on semantics and the actions of others is almost an obsessive compulsion that is a mild form of social anxiety disorder and her distrust in others in general. While her self-protection is one of her greatest assets, it is likewise one of her flaws. The cognitive dissonance she experiences with trusting others often leads her to bullshit them so as not to allow others close to her either mentally, physically, emotionally, or intimately. As a general rule, Chassagne is under the impression that people should make their own tough decisions about how full of crap one should be in this world.

MOTHER: Sharyn Roquelaure, 50.
FATHER: Winston Roquelaure, 53.
SIBLINGS: None.
OTHERS: N/A.
PETS: N/A.
HOMETOWN: Las Vegas, Nevada.
HISTORY: Las Vegas, Nevada. The city of second chances. The Neon Babylon. Las Vegas was a prostitute that wore too much make-up, but if you knew the right locals, she could be a hooker with a heart of gold, still, you'd always have to leave your money on the nightstand. To Chassagne, Las Vegas was that hooker with a heart of gold. Whether or not this was because she was born there, and as a native, by default, she got to experience that side of Las Vegas was unbeknownst to her. Her parents were executives, suits at two major casino hotel conglomerates. In spite of that fact, and probably thanks to that fact, Chassagne got to grow up with a keen understanding of the city around her. Las Vegas was a hot pile of illicit activities all packaged nicely behind bright lights, ultra-modern architecture, and dazzling displays of opulence. For all that Las Vegas had to offer in its little enclave in the Mojave desert, there was much that it lacked, too. You would never really get to see the same faces in Las Vegas. You never really got to know too many people personally. It was an extraordinary tourist attraction, conjuring people from all over the world, leaving the visitors enscorcelled in its perfume of vice. Las Vegas was synonymous with how Chassagne would begin living her life. Much like the city, Chassagne excelled in being hospitable, she was unmatched at speaking to people, catering to people, and leading visitors near and far into the city. Hell, it was her job working for her parents. Chassagne learned, early on, that ultimately, people wanted to be entertained and treated astonishingly, and it was for that reason that she, too, became her own metaphorical prostitute before venturing further into the escort business later on in her life.

Roquelaure was educated at home, in her parent's sprawling offices, and in Reno. While being educated, Roquelaure also adopted the endless schedules of her parents, often tossed between her mother and her father. She was leading an executive lifestyle at a young age, and while she wasn't aware of it at the time, it was a fact that she would later come to appreciate. Chassagne had gotten to understand business in such a way that most youngsters couldn't fathom, the good, the bad, and most certainly, the soul-crushingly ugly. Life wasn't black and white, she understood, rather, it was a gamble, and the games were immaterial, what mattered were the stakes, what one was willing to lose in the face of everything. In as much as her personal philosophy had seemed to be oriented and tailored around gambling, prostitution, and other seedier elements of life, Chassagne found that they were most often the more honest and realistic aspects of human experience on the planet. Having gotten the opportunity to visit other great American cities, Chassagne found that there was this veneer spread over the entire population, whereas where she came from, things were generally most open. No one ever came to Vegas with any delusions about the nature of the place, they were well aware of the squalid goings on of The Neon Babylon, yet, in other areas, it seemed as if they worked dutifully in an attempt to mask those qualities which were otherwise considered heinous by societies elsewhere in the United States. This observation, ultimately, led a teen aged Chassagne to disrespect a lot of others for their lack of honesty with themselves, and with the world around them.

At seventeen, Chassagne was enrolled in AP courses at University of Nevada Las Vegas. The young woman had a particularly striking full schedule and wasn't afforded the luxuries of partying with the locals of Vegas as many other hospitality workers often did while on the job. And while the salary that she had made under the thumb of her mother was lucrative, Chassagne was eventually introduced to a side of Vegas with which she wasn't necessarily familiar with in spite of it always having been in front of her the entire time. It was the profession of prostitution and escorting. After having been mistaken for a high-end call girl, Chassagne eventually decided to delve deeper into the seed of vice which had been planted in Vegas during its inception by the mafia who established the city. Roquelaure, to the dismay of her mother for whom she worked, had quit her job managing the youthful hospitality team and left for Vegas' underworld. Escorts, call girls, and prostitution were fully thriving in Vegas' underworld, and nearly all establishments were in collusion with the escort services. In a month's time, Chassagne had been immersed into the business, and within several months time, she was eventually rated at her particular escort service's as one of the top escorts, largely, in part due to her knowledge of the city and the best places to go, and largely, in part, because she was well known throughout Vegas and was often granted favors by locals who often saw her visitors, whom, the favors were also extended to. Chassagne was never a prostitute in the conventional sense, she wasn't being paid to have sex, rather, she was being paid for her time, and her time in Las Vegas was more fulfilling to her customers than most would have ever imagined. One couldn't let the casinos and hotels fool them with their corporate windowdressing and security systems. Valet drivers, cab drivers, limo drivers, bartenders, the hotel concierge, the casino hosts, you name it, they were pimpin'. Pimps were all around them, and Chassagne had turned into one of the biggest of them all.

For each bit of each fun fueled Las Vegan night, there was an equal amount of terror filled nights, some of which Chassagne handled rather professionally, some which she hadn't handled so well at all. It seemed the further she strode into Las Vegas' underworld, the deeper she got lost in its squalid waters. Indeed, there were times in which she felt as if she were wading in the uncertain waters of independence, and on one ill-starred evening out in the desert, Chassagne had been whisked away by one of the customers whom she had been told that she would be escorting around to the finer establishments in Vegas. The procedures and measures which were typically taken to avoid dangerous escalations had been avoided, an exception was made because this particular client was an apparent “high roller,” and it was for that reason that Chassagne was meant to meet said client in an unconventional place. Rather than even going to any of the said casinos, Roquelaure was forced into the darkness of the Mojave Desert with the client who, in what she imagined, was a drunken fit, pulled on a gun on her. It was to her fortune that she managed to escape from the situation unscathed. However, it was a experience which planted a germinating seed in her psyche, and one that certainly wouldn't be leaving her mind any time soon.

After the ritual of college had been complete and Chassagne had earned her degree, it seemed to her that Vegas had nothing more to offer her either spiritually or mentally. Las Vegas was surrounded by desert, and it created the illusion that it was the oasis. It was the mirage which beckoned everyone into its fantasy realm. And rather than being stuck in such a city, Roquelaure wanted to try her hand at taking on New York City. Her parents referred to it as her identity crisis, while she referred to it as wanting to expand her identity. While her parents would have largely preferred for her to stay in Vegas and continue propagating the Roquelaure's industrious name, Chassagne began researching New York and found that New York City, a place filled with equally shady characters seemed to be the place for her. It hadn't taken long for her to hire a moving company to relocate her belongings and personal effects across the country, and while having only recently signed her lease, Chassagne has spent less than a month in the state of New York, acclimating herself to the environment.

YOUR ALIAS: Las Vegas.
RULE WORDS: New York never sleeps!
WHERE YOU FOUND US: Ultimate Topsites.
SAMPLE:

SHE WAS UNSURE WHEN SHE ALLOWED HER LIFE TO TURN AROUND so drastically. New York City. This was it. It was the financial and cultural capital of the world. It was massive, it's weather dreadful, it's infrastructure like a concrete prison, and she truly knew that she was in what was an actual city whenever she couldn't even see the sun. To have dignified her cognitive dissonance as culture shock would have been an understatement, and instead, she felt like she was being snowglobed through a compound. Already, she had managed to get lost twice because she spent too much time glancing at the immensity of the architecture. It was a labyrinth of steel, and it was a maze of asphalt, wind, and thousands of drone who seemed to be on a pertinent mission, and, she learned, it was best not to obstruct or detain them from said mission.

Why she ever thought it would be a sensible idea to move to this place was beyond her. It was more than mildly honest for her to admit that this was possibly the gravest mistake in her lifetime, and instantly, she had been missing the comfort of the lone desert where she experienced her upbringing. New York was cold. It wasn't merely cold, however, and whenever glanced around at even the coloration of the city, it was outright somber. Las Vegas was named The Neon Babylon, and while it might as well have been a hot bed of sin, at least it was welcoming and offered an illusion of a vibrant dreamscape and oasis. Claustrophobia. She had never recalled experiencing previously. But, she had felt nothing less than minimal and insignificant in the whole of this damned city, and while that may have been discomforting to a lot of people, there was something oddly nurturing about that fact alone. It was ego shattering, and that was something that she could get used to.

What had remained to be seen was whether or not she was going to figure out exactly how to navigate her way back to her apartment complex. Sure, not many drove vehicles in New York City, and it was for that reason alone that she had chosen to leave hers behind in Nevada, but, it sure as hell beat walking. New York City may not have been too terrible, in spite of her reluctance to readily accept it as the next best thing available in the States.

 

[kim]