✗ Du côté paternel, Bruna est italienne. Elle est la fille de Camillo dell'Albizzi, lui-même fils de Venezia Andreotti - soeur d'il Divo, Giulio Andreotti, l'homme politique sicilien mafioso - et d'un riche florentin, Leonardo dell'Albizzi, héritier d'une banque datant du temps des Médicis. Camillo, beau, brillant et cruel, était et est toujours l'un des nobles italiens les plus courus. ✗ Du côté maternel, Bruna - alors dite Violet - est américaine. Elle est la fille de Lauryn Willsmeyer-Petersmith - dite Daisy -, elle-même descendante de deux des plus grandes familles bostoniennes et typiquement white, anglo-saxon, protestant. ✗ Les parents de Violet Bruna se sont aimés le temps de deux courtes et intenses années, alors que Daisy faisait un long voyage européen qui s'était figé lorsqu'elle avait connu Florence. ✗ Leur histoire d'amour a tourné court peu après la naissance de Violet, qui a grandi à Boston, avec sa mère, sans trop voir son père. ✗ Elle a eu une enfance de rêve et une adolescence étonnamment enchantée. ✗ Jeune fille, elle était l'une des «pearls» de Boston: cultivée, jolie, élégante, adorable. Pourtant des doutes l'assaillaient déjà. ✗ Les rêves sont une chose terrible en temps normal - ils ramènent le plus vaillant, le plus courageux à l'état le plus vulnérable. Mais quand les rêves de Violet se firent troublants et vicieux et implacablement logiques, la terreur qui l'envahit fut indescriptible, tout comme la fascination qu'elle éprouva pour la pièce de Shakespeare, l'inimitable Romeo & Juliet, qu'elle relu des centaines de fois avec la peur au ventre. C'était comme dans ses rêves un couple infernal, mais dans ses vision celui était toujours répété, recommence et recommence l'amour maudit. Insupportable. Soudain les splendides immeubles de Boston lui semblèrent une prison de verre. ✗ Violet avait l'impression d'être en verre et de se fêler un peu plus chaque nuit. Et quand elle rencontra, à Dartmouth University, Jeremey, un jeune premier de grande famille, originaire de Hartford (Connecticut), son calme, sa sérénité, sa force tranquille, sa douceur rassurante l'apaisèrent. Venant de vivre deux années sérieusement chaotiques - la jeune femme était à la fois troublée par des rêves hautement perturbants et accaparée par ses études où elle excellait - Violet accueillit l'amour tendre et passionné de Jeremey comme une délivrance, qui l'apaisa (même ses rêves semblèrent se calmer). Elle devient dépendante de lui, car tout son équilibre intérieur reposait sur la personne protectrice du jeune homme à qui elle se fiança après deux ans de relation parfaite et fusionnelle. ✗ Durant ces années de paix intérieure, Violet s'était concentrée sur ses études de politique. Elle se voyait Sénatrice du Parti Démocrate ou bien Ambassadeur des États-Unis. Elle penchait pour de longues études universitaires à cause de ses cours d'italien et d'histoire de l'art qui la passionnaient, bien qu'ils soient éloignés du domaine auquel elle se consacrait. ✗ Jeremey était passionné de voile et passait tout son temps libre dans la villa familiale, à Martha's Vineyard. Un jour qu'il était parti en haute mer en laissant Violet dans la villa, il ne revint pas. Porté disparu. Son corps fut retrouvé quelques jours plus tard. Mort naturelle, mais toutefois étrange - un expert en nautique, noyé, un jour de mer d'huile? ✗ Le désespoir de Violet fut à l'image de son deuil - indescriptible, immense, incommensurable. Ses rêves revinrent, plus terribles qu'avant. Elle crut mourir et ne sait encore aujourd'hui comment elle a fait pour s'accrocher à la vie. ✗ Pourtant elle s'y accrocha. Grâce à Thybalt, un cousin italien au second degré, qu'elle n'avait jamais vu, mais avec qui elle avait correspondu alors que tous deux venaient de perdre des être chers. ✗ Portée par son amitié naissante avec son cousin et par son amour inexplicable pour l'Italie, mais surtout par l'envie irrépressible de connaître la clé de l'énigme de ses rêves (lesquels, avait-elle fini par conclure, contenaient forcément une part de vrai), Violet changea de vie. Elle déménagea à Vérone, se fit appeler Bruna, commença des études poussées d'art de la Renaissance et prit un nouveau départ, inespéré et salvateur. ✗ Pendant quelque temps elle crut à une accalmie. Pourtant les problèmes rejaillirent quand elle rencontra enfin Thybalt et s'aperçut qu'il était celui dont elle avait rêvé. ✗ Bruna ne sait trop que penser, aujourd'hui, perdue dans une ville qui la fait vivre mais qui lui est encore étrangère, bouleversée par l'affaire cauchemars-Romeo-Thybalt. Mais elle est ressortie grandie de son deuil, optimiste et volontaire, et bien que fragile, elle tient debout et croit de nouveau au bonheur, coûte que coûte...
♥ herself
✗ Bruna est un paradoxe vivant. Elle est une et une multitude. Elle est faite de contrastes. ✗ Contraste entre ce qu'elle aurait du être et ce qu'elle n'a pas été. Bruna a grandi dans cette cage dorée élitiste qui se différencie fermement du monde des nouveaux riches. ✗ Elle est loquace, volubile, elle a de la répartie, est éloquente. ✗ Elle est avant-gardiste, ouverte, intelligente, brillante, curieuse, tolérante, cultivée, passionnée par les arts et les humanités. ✗ Dans ce monde un peu hypocrite où il ne faut pas mépriser ceux qui sont moins bien nés que soi, les aider mais toutefois ne pas les laisser trop s'approcher, Bruna a fait du bénévolat, elle a milité pour le Parti Démocrate. ✗ Elle est raffinée, soignée, distinguée, racée, délicate et élégante. ✗ Elle est charmante, à l'aise dans toute situation, conversant avec grâce avec n'importe qui, polie, discrète, maîtrisant les usages et coutumes d'une société fermée et aisée. ✗ Elle a conquis la Nouvelle-Angleterre avec son minois, son humour, son charisme et son intellect. Pourtant, elle a su, dans un monde impitoyable qui ne pardonne pas les erreurs, s'attacher de vrais amis. Elle a toujours été, malgré son aplomb et son assurance, une jeune fille vulnérable, fragile, incertaine, adorable dans ses hésitations enfantines. Bruna a toujours douté, d'elle-même plutôt que des autres, aussi loin qu'elle s'en souvienne. Par ailleurs, elle possède aussi de rares qualités d'écoute, elle est attentive et compréhensive (quoiqu'un peu égocentrique), qui en font une amie précieuse et aimante, ce qui est rare dans la jungle du chacun pour soi. ✗ Il n'y pas que ses doutes qui la différenciaient de toutes les miss Parfaites de Boston: Bruna a un optimisme à toute épreuve (ou presque), une joie de vivre et une bonne humeur contagieuses, peu de propension à la mélancolie. Elle est heureuse par nature, idéaliste, utopiste, naïve, enfantine, adorable, confiante et insouciante, un peu épicurienne et légèrement hédoniste. Elle a toujours vécu dans l'instant, tout en s'assurant toutefois de son bonheur futur. ✗ Élevée dans une bulle de paillettes, Bruna est forcément capricieuse, égoïste (quoique moins que ce à quoi on aurait pu s'attendre), gâtée, précieuse, sophistiquée, puérile - bref, insupportable pour certains qui n'approchent même pas celle qu'ils voient comme une peste superficielle. Pourtant, malgré ses airs maniérés et sa tendance à juger tout ce qui s'approche d'elle, elle a un coeur d'or - pardon pour le cliché. ✗ Tout ça, c'était avant. Avant la mort de Jeremey. Parce que Bruna était sensible et fragilisée par ses rêves étranges et ses doutes, elle s'est abandonnée à Jeremey jusqu'à ce que son équilibre intérieur et son bonheur dépendent entièrement de lui. À sa mort, elle a été dévastée. Toutes ses certitudes se sont écroulées. ✗ Du jour au lendemain, Bruna a perdu tout son optimisme. De confiante et joviale, elle est devenue méfiante et désespérée. Elle ne souriait plus. Ne croyait plus en rien. Elle n'avait rien perdu de son éloquence, mais se propos se firent acides et acerbes. Elle était indifférente. ✗ À ce moment-là, Bruna devint aussi tourmentée à la folie par ses rêves lancinants. Névrosée, paranoïaque, possédée, aliénée, elle n'avait plus de repères. ✗ Pourtant elle restait elle-même, et son courage et sa bonne humeur qui sommeillaient l'habitèrent de nouveau. Prise d'un élan d'audace inespérée, submergée par une ardeur nouvelle et un goût de la vie indestructible, aidée par sa correspondance avec Thybalt, résolue à vivre de nouveau, elle reprit pied, changea de nom et s'envola pour l'Italie. ✗ Bien qu'incertaine, plus vulnérable que jamais, sujette à des rechutes dans son désespoir, parfois submergée par un malaise inexplicable, Bruna a cependant eu l'impression de renaître en arrivant en Italie - elle partait d'ailleurs y étudier la Renaissance: un signe? Elle s'est tout de suite sentie Italienne. Passionnée, charnelle, enflammée, enthousiaste, plus simple, encore plus élégante, belle, féminine, insouciante. Femme-enfant.
♣ wanted
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
✒ liens à rédiger
✑ THYBALT ANDREOTTI - cousin. ✑ DI VICIENZO CESARE «NEMO» - amant d'une nuit, jeu du chat et de la souris. ✑ AUSTIN LULLABY ALICE - amitié légèrement hypocrite. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien.
✆ liens à définir
✑ TOSCA DAL CAPELLO - bachert associé. ✑ JULIAN D'AQUINO - lien. ✑ RACHELE D'AQUINO - lien. ✑ DONATELLO CIANO - lien. ✑ JOSHUA OLIVETTI - lien. ✑ SENNA ADRIANE - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien. ✑ PRÉNOMS NOM - lien.
♠ crédits
la bannière de leighton meester est d'hermiola™, sur tumblr. les deux signatures de stock sont de iheartwaldorf™, sur tumblr. le code du nom complet de bruna est la propriété de vapore-dei-sospiri™ les codes html, si vous voulez les prendre, sont à créditer last of the english roses™, sur sonorus, vapore-dei-sospiri ou british-spakles. toute ressemblance avec un personnage ou relation réel(le) est une coïncidence, tout comme le serait une possible ressemblance avec un lien ou un personnage créé par quelqu'un d'autre que last of the english roses™ sur un autre forum, sur british-sparkles, vapore-dei-sospiri ou sonorus.
Dernière édition par V. Bruna dell'Abizzi le Sam 17 Sep - 15:27, édité 24 fois
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi
❛ VIOLET BRUNA ⸞ rosa candida ❜
■ Messages : 317 ■ Age du Personnage : ventidue anni. ■ Logement : petite maison au borgo venezia. ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 13/03/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Étudiante en histoire de l'art de la Renaissance. ■ Sono : se remet d'une rupture
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 16 Avr - 16:52
♠ « Oh, divine stranger, I've been looking for you. »
bacherts associés & âmes liées
♠ thybalt aaron andreotti
♣ cousin & bachert associé
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ tosca julietta dal capello
♣ bachert associé & lien à définir.
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ donatello ciano
♣ âme faste des bacherts associés & lien à définir.
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
Spoiler:
♠ prénoms & nom
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
Dernière édition par V. Bruna dell'Abizzi le Mer 12 Oct - 17:37, édité 17 fois
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi
❛ VIOLET BRUNA ⸞ rosa candida ❜
■ Messages : 317 ■ Age du Personnage : ventidue anni. ■ Logement : petite maison au borgo venezia. ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 13/03/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Étudiante en histoire de l'art de la Renaissance. ■ Sono : se remet d'une rupture
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 16 Avr - 16:52
♠ « This splendour in the lady's eyes.»
filles filles filles
♠ lullaby alice austin
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ artemis-clelia montecchi
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ rachele d'aquino
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ adriane calypso senna
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
Spoiler:
♠ prénoms & nom
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
Dernière édition par V. Bruna dell'Abizzi le Mer 12 Oct - 23:22, édité 12 fois
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi
❛ VIOLET BRUNA ⸞ rosa candida ❜
■ Messages : 317 ■ Age du Personnage : ventidue anni. ■ Logement : petite maison au borgo venezia. ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 13/03/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Étudiante en histoire de l'art de la Renaissance. ■ Sono : se remet d'une rupture
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 16 Avr - 16:53
♠ « Here comes your man; »
mecs mecs mecs
♠ valentino
♣ scénario - lien amoureux à définir
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ cesare «nemo» di vicenzo
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ joshua olivetti
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
♠ julian d'aquino
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
Spoiler:
♠ prénoms & nom
♣ nature du lien
She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.She may be the face I can't forget, the trace of pleasure or regret, maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay. She may be the song that summer sings, may be the chill that autumn brings, may be a hundred different things within the measure of a day. She may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast, ay turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell. She may be the mirror of my dreams, a smile reflected in a stream; she may not be what she may seem inside her shell... She, who always seems so happy in a crowd, whose eyes can be so private and so proud, no one's allowed to see them when they cry. She maybe the love that cannot hope to last, may come to me from shadows in the past that I remember 'till the day I die.
Dernière édition par V. Bruna dell'Abizzi le Mer 12 Oct - 23:56, édité 10 fois
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Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Lun 18 Avr - 13:36
MOOOOOI !
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi
❛ VIOLET BRUNA ⸞ rosa candida ❜
■ Messages : 317 ■ Age du Personnage : ventidue anni. ■ Logement : petite maison au borgo venezia. ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 13/03/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Étudiante en histoire de l'art de la Renaissance. ■ Sono : se remet d'une rupture
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Lun 18 Avr - 18:06
TOIIIII ! Trop, il faut qu'on se trouve un super lien big time :luv: Sachant que Donatello est un peu le rival number one de Bruna... Dis-moi, ton perso, il en est où, question compréhension de toute cette histoire de bachert? Il a réalisé ce qu'il lui arrivait ou pas du tout?
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Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 25 Juin - 23:52
moiii Leighton + ta fiche, je ne pouvais résister (a)
Thybalt A. Andreotti
LA MANIPULATION & LA TRICHERIE ♠ sont un art, n’est pas Giulio Andreotti qui veut.
■ Messages : 3716 ■ Age du Personnage : 25 ans ■ Logement : ANDREOTTI; 34 Via Barchetta ; Citta Antica ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 12/12/2009
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Maire de Vérone ■ Sono : marié(e)
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Ven 1 Juil - 9:05
J'avais pas vu ta fiche, trop canon !!!
Rachele d'Aquino
Where we belong ♠ My heart, my soul ♣ We stand alone
■ Messages : 2171 ■ Age du Personnage : 24 ans ■ Logement : 24 Via G. dalla Corte, Borgo Venezia ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 06/08/2010
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Mar 19 Juil - 14:53
Moi aussi, moi aussi !
Adriane C. Senna
Adriane ♥ ❝Who says that true love didn't exist ? ❞
■ Messages : 112 ■ Age du Personnage : 18 ans ■ Logement : Chez papa/maman *out* ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 31/07/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Etudiante en photographie et journalisme ■ Sono : obsédé(e) par quelqu'un
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 6 Aoû - 19:32
UNE LEIGHTOOOOOOOOOOOOON (autant dire que d'habitude, c'est Momsen mon vava ^^) Du coup, ça te dit un ptit lien ? (a)
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi
❛ VIOLET BRUNA ⸞ rosa candida ❜
■ Messages : 317 ■ Age du Personnage : ventidue anni. ■ Logement : petite maison au borgo venezia. ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 13/03/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Étudiante en histoire de l'art de la Renaissance. ■ Sono : se remet d'une rupture
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 20 Aoû - 16:00
De retour de vacances, et je dois avouer que la perspective de retrouver le RP est bien ma seule consolation face à la fin de l'été (snif'). Du coup je vais tenter de faire évoluer ma chère Bruna, d'où l'actualisation de la fiche de liens, avant de me mettre une bonne fois pour toute à la rédaction de tout ce qui est underco (a). CLELIA: Si tu es toujours tentée, je le suis aussi Tu as une petite idée avant que je parte étudier tes liens / ta présentation? THYBOU: Merci ! RACHELE: Euh oui, évidemment, mais je pensais attendre la fin du sujet commun, s'il existe encore malgré ma désertion de l'été ... Et après, du coup, je verrais bien quelque chose d'opposé au lien Josh/Bruna, histoire de pimenter un peu le truc ... Tu pensais à quelque chose en particulier? JOSH: Non, pas toi, tu pues. Sans dèc', il faut qu'on se fasse quelque chose d'intéressant dans la perspective du lien avec Rachele, sinon c'est pas drôle ... Je réfléchis à tout ça et je te dis. ADRIANE: Tu aimes Leighton, j'aime Accola (j'ai hésité pour l'ava de Bruna), tout le monde il est content donc. Tu veux quoi, positif, négatif?
Rachele d'Aquino
Where we belong ♠ My heart, my soul ♣ We stand alone
■ Messages : 2171 ■ Age du Personnage : 24 ans ■ Logement : 24 Via G. dalla Corte, Borgo Venezia ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 06/08/2010
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 20 Aoû - 16:21
Je n'avais pensé à rien de particulier ma belle. Quant au RP commun, on attend que Joshua se réveille et poste, après ça devrait être à toi, je crois. T'as loupé de ces trucs... Donc on peut prendre le temps de réfléchir chacune de notre côté.
Adriane C. Senna
Adriane ♥ ❝Who says that true love didn't exist ? ❞
■ Messages : 112 ■ Age du Personnage : 18 ans ■ Logement : Chez papa/maman *out* ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 31/07/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Etudiante en photographie et journalisme ■ Sono : obsédé(e) par quelqu'un
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Lun 22 Aoû - 9:05
Ben à toi de voir si t'as une idée ou pas ^^ Perso', je préfèrerais positif (a)
Cesare L. Di Vicienzo
NEMO ✝ « speaking whale is hard »
■ Messages : 285 ■ Age du Personnage : 18 yo ■ Logement : Chez Rachele - 24 Via G. dalla Corte, Borgo Venezia ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 25/08/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Drogué ■ Sono : ne s'attache pas
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 27 Aoû - 0:02
Omg quel canon cette Bruna Petites pensées pas du tout malsaines
Puis-je prétendre à un lien?
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi
❛ VIOLET BRUNA ⸞ rosa candida ❜
■ Messages : 317 ■ Age du Personnage : ventidue anni. ■ Logement : petite maison au borgo venezia. ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 13/03/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Étudiante en histoire de l'art de la Renaissance. ■ Sono : se remet d'une rupture
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 27 Aoû - 2:50
Of course, le Nemo n'est pas hideux non plus. Par contre niveau mec je n'ai pas encore de négatif. Ça te brancherais, une petite histoire de coucherie qui a mal tourné? Vu que de toute façon on use et abuse des smileys pervers, on est déjà corrompus (a).
Adriane C. Senna
Adriane ♥ ❝Who says that true love didn't exist ? ❞
■ Messages : 112 ■ Age du Personnage : 18 ans ■ Logement : Chez papa/maman *out* ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 31/07/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Etudiante en photographie et journalisme ■ Sono : obsédé(e) par quelqu'un
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 27 Aoû - 11:03
Et moi j'ai même pas le droit à une jolie pitite réponse ? *out*
Cesare L. Di Vicienzo
NEMO ✝ « speaking whale is hard »
■ Messages : 285 ■ Age du Personnage : 18 yo ■ Logement : Chez Rachele - 24 Via G. dalla Corte, Borgo Venezia ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 25/08/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Drogué ■ Sono : ne s'attache pas
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 27 Aoû - 12:43
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi a écrit:
Of course, le Nemo n'est pas hideux non plus. Par contre niveau mec je n'ai pas encore de négatif. Ça te brancherais, une petite histoire de coucherie qui a mal tourné? Vu que de toute façon on use et abuse des smileys pervers, on est déjà corrompus (a).
Assurément, de toute façon j'le vois mal mon petit Nemo avec trop de liens positifs, personne l'aime c'est un p'tit con (a)
mais qui a parlé de smileys pervers?
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi
❛ VIOLET BRUNA ⸞ rosa candida ❜
■ Messages : 317 ■ Age du Personnage : ventidue anni. ■ Logement : petite maison au borgo venezia. ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 13/03/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Étudiante en histoire de l'art de la Renaissance. ■ Sono : se remet d'une rupture
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 27 Aoû - 16:11
NEMO: Hurray, c'est parti pour un vieux lien sordide! Bon, je t'explique ce que j'avais en tête: Bruna, malheureusement pour toi, n'est pas trop du genre à coucher à tout-va. En fait, elle a grandi aux USA dans une famille très aristo et a perdu son fiancé, noyé, alors qu'il représentait tout pour elle - un amoureux, un ami, le frère qu'elle n'a jamais eu ou même parfois le père qu'elle n'a que très peu connu. Dévastée, après un an de dépression profonde, elle décide que le seul moyen de s'en sortir est de partir, loin, au moins pour ses études. Son choix se porte immédiatement sur l'Italie, pays dont elle est originaire par son père, pays qui la fascine pour son art et surtout pays qui l'attire dangereusement depuis qu'elle a commencé à faire des rêves étranges ayant pour cadre Vérone. C'est donc à Vérone qu'elle va, retrouvant là-bas son cousin romain, Thybalt, lui aussi installé à Vérone, aimanté par la présence de son bachert Tosca. ( Étant malgré elle la réincarnation de Rosalinda, le premier amour de Roméo et la première âme néfaste du couple, la proximité de cette union la rend malade.) Peu à peu, elle réapprend à vivre et se reconstruit un univers, fragile, mais qui tient debout. Cependant, six mois après son arrivée, pas de remous dans sa vie sentimentale. Rien, le vide, niet. On pourrait imaginer qu'à un moment, Thybalt aie fortement conseillé à Bruna d'avoir une aventure, même brève, même sans lendemain, simplement histoire de ne pas devenir une nonne de 22, jolie en plus, ça serait dommage. Peu partante au début, Bruna se serait laissée convaincre et, un soir, aurait répondu aux avances de Nemo dans un bar, flirtant toute la soirée avant de passer la nuit avec lui. Et là, something would have gone wrong somehow. Traumatisée par le souvenir du doux Jeremey et par la brutalité un peu sauvage des histoires d'un soir, elle aurait peut-être tenté d'arrêter tout en plein milieu, et là ... ça dépend, il est con comment ton Nemo? Au point de la gifler, ou juste de l'humilier en la traitant de frigide et autres compliments?
ADRIANE: Mais non, t'inquiètes pas, je t'ai pas oubliée J'étais en pleine réflexion pour nous trouver un lien potable, et je crois que ça y est, j'ai un début ... Alors: comme je l'ai expliqué plus haut pour l'abruti qui se prend pour un poisson, Bruna a grandi à Boston dans une famille de l'aristocratie. Après le drame qui a bouleversé sa vie, à savoir la mort de son fiancé, sa mère Daisy a accepté à contre-coeur sa décision de partir en Italie pour prendre un nouveau départ. Elle-même avait vécu en Italie quelques années durant sa jeunesse, années durant lesquelles elle avait rencontré le père de Bruna, un noble florentin. Bref, Daisy a gardé quelques connaissances utiles, et elle laisse partir sa fille en lui faisant promettre qu'aussitôt arrivée à Vérone, elle rende visite à certains de ses contacts, histoire qu'elle connaisse un peu de beau monde et que Daisy puisse être rassurée par d'autres personnes sur l'état de sa fille. Parmi eux, les Senna, qu'elle aurait connu presque vingt ans plus tôt (enfin, celui des deux parents qui est italien). Bref, Bruna débarque, elle contacte les Senna, et deux semaines plus tard, elle est invitée à dîner dans la grande maison, sachant qu'il y a là deux jeunes femmes de son âge avec lesquelles elle pourrait peut-être faire connaissance. Et là (je fais d'une pierre deux coups), rien ne se passe comme prévu: elle sympathise tout de suite avec Adriane, l'enfant ingrate que ses parents ignorent presque, alors que le courant ne passe pas du tout entre elle et la soeur parfaite, Julia. Résultat: elle supporte les histoires à n'en plus finir sur les succès de Julia et regarde pendant ce temps Adriane, toute seule de son côté de la table. La soirée lui paraît looooongue, mais le lendemain, elle contacte Adriane. Finalement, une amitié s'installe entre les deux, entre Bruna qui donne son avis sur les photos d'Adriane et cette dernière qui prend le relais de Thybalt (trop occupé par sa vie d'homme politique et ses escapades sous la couette de Tosca) pour lui montrer Vérone. Tu en penses quoi?
Cesare L. Di Vicienzo
NEMO ✝ « speaking whale is hard »
■ Messages : 285 ■ Age du Personnage : 18 yo ■ Logement : Chez Rachele - 24 Via G. dalla Corte, Borgo Venezia ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 25/08/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Drogué ■ Sono : ne s'attache pas
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Lun 29 Aoû - 2:21
V. Bruna dell'Abizzi a écrit:
simplement histoire de ne pas devenir une nonne de 22, jolie en plus, ça serait dommage.
elle aurait peut-être tenté d'arrêter tout en plein milieu, et là ... ça dépend, il est con comment ton Nemo? Au point de la gifler, ou juste de l'humilier en la traitant de frigide et autres compliments?
Effectivement ce serait dommage
Alors alors, Nemo, c'est un petit con au point de la traiter de coincée ouais, mais aussi au point de rester frustré parce qu'il aime aller au bout de ce qu'il entreprend, hmhm. Donc ce que je te propose, c'est que, à cette soirée, Cesare repère Bruna, la drague, lui tourne autour en attendant patiemment qu'elle se décide à passer le cap, puis tout d'un coup elle stoppe tout, et elle part. Au début il se moque d'elle, la traite de frigide, de coincée etc tout ce que tu veux, mais au fond, il cherche à comprendre POURQUOI ce refus, sachant que personne d'autre ne l'a jamais laissé en plan. Du coup il cherche à se rapprocher d'elle, à la séduire par tous les moyens, etc etc, mais Bruna elle résiste parce que elle connait ce genre d'hommes et elle sait qu'une fois qu'il aura eu ce qu'il veut il partira. Great?
Adriane C. Senna
Adriane ♥ ❝Who says that true love didn't exist ? ❞
■ Messages : 112 ■ Age du Personnage : 18 ans ■ Logement : Chez papa/maman *out* ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 31/07/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: Etudiante en photographie et journalisme ■ Sono : obsédé(e) par quelqu'un
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Sam 15 Oct - 19:12
Comment te dire ça ma jolie Bruna ... J'ADORE JE KIFFE JE VEUX ! (a) Donc ça marche pour amie ;D Je te rajoute à ma prochaine MAJ
Rebekka M. Leifsen
Il n’y a pas de certitudes, il n’y a que des opportunités
■ Messages : 61 ■ Age du Personnage : 22 ans ■ Logement : Colocation dans le quartier de Cittadella ■ Date d'arrivée à Vérone : 17/09/2011
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ■ Relazioni & Famiglia: ■ Job: danseuse ■ Sono : un coeur à prendre
Sujet: Re: BRUNA ❈ « where is the light ? » Mer 16 Nov - 9:49
J'crois qu'il va falloir qu'on se décide à se rencontrer nous deux...