{ ρℓαtiηum bℓση∂є ¢uяℓs ση α ρяimα∂σηηα giяℓ }

♔ hєar∂ of Estaℓia Marchessa Chanteℓℓe-Ro¢¢i? Not surpised.
♔ Pronounciation ;; Est-aa-lee-ah Mar-chess-ah Shan-tell Raw- cchi

♔ Se∂uctive seventєєn

♔ Biяtн ;; 11/ 11, at exactly 11:11

♔ Give this gσ∂∂єss a nickname? Hunny, just ησ

♔ 50% Greek go∂∂ess, 50% Bяitish chaяm , 25% Fren¢h eℓegance

♔ нometown ;; Bra∂ford, Engℓand

♔ Louvre, France is her birthplace, darlings
♔ Styℓe ;; eℓegant . charming. captivating . boℓd . one - of - a - kind . trend - setting . designer . gℓamorous . chic . Estaℓia's styℓe can be described aℓℓ of these . she has huge cℓosets fiℓℓed with designer , designer and more designer. ysℓ , burberry , chaneℓ , dior , kirkwood , ℓouboutin , ferragamo. shouℓd i continue tiℓℓ your head spins?
♔ She has but a few ƒℓαws- a tiny pink scar on her waist, and her drinking, and smoking. She's also ADHD, but she never tells.
♔ Sє¢яєt ;; At 15, when she was going through drugs, she pushed a servant when he refused to comply with her orders and killed him.
♔ It was a fine November day, the sun shining a bright, crystallised golden and the sky a clear, azure cerulean blue with just a few hints of lavender streaking the horizon, dotted with a few elegant curls of fluffy white clouds. The fine layer of snow was starting to melt, making the town look like a picture from a fairytale. But the atmosphere of the place where an angelic, melodious cry escaped little Estalia's pink cupid's bow lips, was grim and silent. almost like a mourning. Because this is exactly what it was to Mirabelle and Giuseppe Chantelle- a mourning. Nobody would've guessed that a beautiful, angelic baby had been born in a small house in Louvre to the Chantelle family. Because neither Estalia's mother nor father had wanted her. They would have rather had an abortion, but Estalia's grandmother, Drina convinced- no, forced- the couple to keep the baby. Mirabelle was a shrunken beauty who had gone into drugs because of her failed Hollywood career, and Giuseppe was an alcoholic who spent all his money on gambling. Baby Estalia was carefully tucked into her loving grandmother's thin, petite arms, blissfully unaware that her sparkling, hypnotic green eyes were not wanted here. As she grew up, Drina was the only one who truly loved and cared for Estalia. She cooked, cared, fed and loved Estalia, while her mother ambled away time in a stranger's arms and her father got drunk. Late night brawls and fights were common occurences in her house. She would get noticed in the streets for her beauty from as early as 7, and she had amassed a huge line of fans. At 9, Drina died and child services took Estalia away, & she was then adopted by Shania and Laurent Rocci, world famous billionares. Out of respect for Drina, Estalia kept the surname Chantelle. She was bathed head-to-toe in baby Chanel, Gucci, Prada, Fendi, Ferragamo and more. She learnt to wrap everyone around her elegant diamond-tipped manicured finger, getting whatever she wanted with just one syllable out of her Chanel coated pout. She shot straight to the top at school, ruling everyone with her charms and wicked brains. She had even become responsible for her own two credit cards and two penthouses filled top to bottom with her baby couture dresses. By 14, she was a model who had appeared on the cover of Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire, L'Officiel and more. Everyone in the world knew her and loved her. She had become a much-wanted socialite, model and already started giving red carpet appearances. She acquired a name for herself in the glamour industry with offers pouring in from everywhere. Around this time, Giuseppe sought her out and attacked her, giving her the scar she has. This plunged her headlong into deep depression, and she started doing drugs, smoking and drinking. Once, during a fit she had after drugs, she accidently pushed a servant into the sea and drowned him. Her parents barely managed to hush it up. By 16, she had moved on from her past completely, walked for the best designer labels ever and was rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams.
♔ Continued in the comments, darling.

three comments

Wrote three years ago
♔ Possesions {Only the top 10}-
◉A blood red Bugati Veyron
◉ 30+ properties across the globe at any given time ◉ Baby blue IPad {The latest one}
◉ Regularly updated three story closets
◉ Hot pink Maserati convertible
◉ A red Ferrari 458 Italia
◉ A Tiffany blue Lamborghini
◉ Swavroski diamond {Real, of course} encrusted IPhone 5
◉ An Apple MacBook Pro which is the same
◉ A Maltese Shi-Tzu puppy named Artemis
◉ A pure-breeded, snow white horse called Apollo, valued at $8 million

♔ Accent;; The melody that flows through Estalia's pout is an elegant Britsh one, with just a hint of Greek and French refinery.
♔ Sample roleplay Estalia Marchessa Chantelle-Rocci // Seductive s e v e n t e e n // Quote ;;
{Polyvore link}
I press the brakes of my Ferrari with the toe of my Tory Burch wedges, brining the car to a classy, couture halt.. I stretch out one toned, manicured hand as I grasp the handle of the door, flipping my wrist to open it. A cool, icy wind blows from behind, ruffling my golden blonde with a hint of platinum golden curls, making me brush them away swiftly. I wave once at the bright flash of the waiting paparazzi impatiently, my cupid's bow lips spreading into a half smirk.
The door of the Plaza is opened by a male chaffeur, and I deliver to him a classy, elegant 'Thank you.' in my musical British lisp, and a shadow of a smile. He seems stunned as he holds the door open, astonished gaze scorching into my back as I sashay down the velvet carpeted corridor to my dressing room. The stylist hurries forward, making my nose scrunch up ever so slightly in distaste. Such horrible taste in outfits, and yet he's a stylist? I wave him away impatiently, easing into my chair fluidly. My Tiffany's earrings tinkles melodiously as I turn my face to meet his puzzled glance, the words flowing out of my Chanel coated lips like a melody. "You're fired." I say with relish as he skitters back out of the room.
♔ Invite clique choice ;; The top clique, nothing less, darling.
♔ Desire to be Alpha? ;; Yes
♔ Why do you deserve this honour? ;; I think I deserve to be Alpha because I've had a lot of roleplay experience, and I know what it is like to be Alpha. Besides, you yourself invited me to join, and I think this enrollment is pretty good {Spent hours on it} so I think I deserve to be Alpha.

Wrote three years ago
♔ You're at a super exclusive party, dancing with your boyfriend. Suddenly, the doors open, revealing a tall blonde who immediately makes you feel insecure about your looks, your boyfriend, everything, wearing that couture dress with a price tag that hits the sky. Cameras flash. People scream her name as she comes out of her exclusive, swanky Ferrari. Ten bodyguard follow, and so do your boyfriend's eyes. In a flash, he's gone, trailing after her like a love-sick puppy. And just as quickly, he'll be rejected, trampled and discarded. This is the image she displays to the world. Haven't had the honor of meeting her? Well, then she's a bxtch. Extremely popular badass, with people lusting after her. she is fℓirty , seductive and charming She will put her guard up and act like a snobby, stuck up bxtch. Her enemy? you make one step out of ℓine and she immediateℓy jumps into action. she can turn your best friends away from you. she'ℓℓ turn your boyfriend away from you and she'ℓℓ even turn the whoℓe crowd away from you. and she'ℓℓ generaℓℓy torment you, haunt your dreams and your death. Her friend? You're blessed. She has very high standards, so count yourself lucky. She'll be sweet, fiesty, charming, funny and very much loyal, doing anything to protect her friends, unless you break her trust. This is where you wanna be? Fat chance. So many people want to, why would she choose you? she makes it appear as if she is fℓawℓess but deep down she has insecurities. But I wouldn't cross her, with just one snap of her Dior Vernis coated, manicured fingers she'll have you fall down the popularity ladder, with gossip blohs everywhere making public mockery of you. She is someone you never want to get into a fight with. she simply does not know when to back down. It is utterly impossible to her. she is what seems to be immune to insults, and is the queen of sarcasm. ask a dumb question and she'ℓℓ repℓy quickℓy in a deadpan voice, staring at you as if you have no brain. Which you probably don't, seeing as how you don't know of Estalia Chantelle-Rocci's infamous, unattainable diva image.

Wrote three years ago
♔ Click those cameras, darling. The exquisite beauty, Estalia Chantelle-Rocci is here, that gorgeous model you always envied clad in her designer couture, hips swaying in rhythm, eyelids batting and her smooth, springy golden blonde curls bouncing on her slim, svelte glitter dusted shoulders with every step of her statuesque, toned legs enrobed in Kirkwood heels. You haven't seen her? That goddess with boys trailing after her? No? Ole granny, you have GOT to be blind. Or do you live on the moon maybe? Anyway, I'll take you along on this roller coaster- and make sure your heart is in good condition, or it'll fail. Start with her flat, unlined forehead in a shade of clear, creamy alabaster all over with just a hint of sun-kissed Greek beach tans and French rose. Her halo of pure golden ringlets shimmer mutely with each curl, layers and cascades of pure gold curls, injected with the sweet but seductive smell of passion fruit and vanilla, floating mistily to her perky C-cups that are always supported by Victoria's Secret lace lingerie. Her smooth forehead sports two arched honey blonde brows that never need to be filled in, or plucked. Her eyes are a mesmerising, hypnotic green utterly unique to her, with flecks of gold. They are deep as emeralds and bright as poison. But they can change into the prettiest, stormiest grey you ever saw, rimmed in blue and with flecks of black, platinum and silver, encased in thick lashes longer than falsies, always smeared in a coat of Chanel mascara, so thick they have a natural butterfly effect. Oh, thsese lashes that bat in the most seductive manner. Her cheekbones are sharp and contoured, descending down her face elegantly like marble banisters. Her nose is a dainty, retrousse ski-slope, straight and perfect, without a single freckle. Make your way down to her smooth, full cupid's bow lips that are always smeared in ysℓ lipstain and spread into a heart-breaking smile that will have the most devoted men fall for her in a second, revealing her straight, dazzling white pearly teeth. Still alive? Her slim, toned and waxed hands spread out elegantly to reveal a coat of Dior Vernis and a couture clutch. Look at her elegant neck and bony, feminine collarbone. See that perfectly toned, flat stomach with just a slight trace of abs, with a tiny 32" waist, much to the envy of her fellow Victoria's secret models. Her tall, lean and busty 5"11 model figure is supported by long, waxed and statuesque legs enrobed in Kirkwood or Loubutin heels that break into a strut that originates from a runway. Now do you see her, grandma?


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