Elle Mattique

✧ full name : Elle Kathleen Mattique
✧ age : 16
✧ grade : junior
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✧ nationality : French, Italian, Greek, English, and a bit Welsh.
✧ hometown : Beverly Hills, CA
✧ family : Her father- Alec Buffett.
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✧ short biography : Elle was born on a hot afternoon, to her mother- now a faceless memory of once was. Elle never knew her mother, as she left Elle when she was only 1 and a half. Her father almost never talks about her-ever, but has remarried 3 times. In between he would shower Elle with whatever she wanted, but it wasn't enough to fill the void. Elle literally had everything. She was friends with Kylie Jenner, whose sister was a socialite, had three Hermes Birkin bags, and a closet the size of an apartment. Yet, Elle became cold and mean and resentful of everything and everyone around her. She wanted to know who her mother was, yet no one would tell her. So, when she was 15 she began to search for her. Paying a PI, and doing whatever she could. When her father caught wind of this- he sent her straight to CGH.
✧ secret(s) : Elle found something out while searching for her mother- that her father may have killed her.
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✧ appearance : She has long brown hair that falls just below her chest, and skin the perfect tan/glowing color you'd expect from a Beverly Hills girl. She has long skinny, yet toned legs that come in handy with ballet. She's always been very skinny, naturally, and he stomach is perfectly flat. Her nose is perfect, and people often ask who had it done for her, in which her reply is "Its natural." And it is- Natural.
✧ personality : Elle could probably be a really sweet and generous girl, but thanks to everything thats happened, shes turned cold and rather mean, to everyone. She will lock you in with that smile and tear you down. She's extremely competitive and likes to be the best. Although, she does it all with a sense of class and gracefulness- must be all those ballet classes.
✧ strengths/weaknesses : Her strengths would be sneaking around, shopping, styling, ballet, attending events (It takes skill my friend...), and a few other typical things. However her weaknesses are that she gets upset whenever anyone mentions her mother, she can't deal with not being the best of the best, and the fact that she knows that secret- its killing her.
✧ invite only clique preference : elites, I guess. {I wanna RP Kara with her!!! like right now....lol XD}
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✧ activeness : derp. 101%
✧ anything extra? : Not really....
✧ six favorite possessions? : Her black Lamborghini, her black crocodile Bikin, her vinatge Chanel, her iPhone 5 with its gold Tory Burch case, her couture gowns, and her ballet slippers, custom made for her in Paris.
✧ sample roleplay : (In the comments)
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One comment

gmgracie12
Wrote one year ago
Elle M A T T I Q U E.
{ i n s e r t clique h e r e}
{o u t f i t}
{s o m e quote.}
 
I rolled by eyes upon opening the door. Setting my Lamborghini's keys on the table and hearing my latest step-mother giggling upstairs. She was perhaps the worst yet. Old enough to be my slightly older sister. She tried to be nice to me and ask me to come to lunch with her and to the spa and if we could bake cookies later. As if I would ever want to do that. Then down she came, "Oh Elle! Your back! I was hoping we could make cupcakes." I raised my eyebrows and sighed, then looking up with a glare, "I hate cupcakes. If you want some, have the cook do it." I said adding emphasis to the word 'cook'. God, didn't she know that when you had one you didn't have to cook. She looked to me with her big blue eyes- twiddling her fingers with a worried expression, "Oh well, I gave Maria the day off. It was her daughter's birthday and well-" I stopped the bimbo midway through, "You did /what/? Look you, may be married to my father- but your not the one who's in charge here." I smirked, "You'll be out of here in a few months anyways-my father will find a new blondie, maybe he'll shake it up with a brunette. Either way, you'll be gone. Don't get too comfy here." I ascended up the stairs, and as soon as I was passed her, a tear ran down my cheek. I knew this time /was/ different. This was the first one who had been nice to me and here I was- yelling at her. I wiped the tear away and though about how different my life would be if my mother was here- my real mother, not just the bimbo of the month.

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