chester, delilah river.

[delilah chester]

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WHAT'S YOUR NAME, BABY? WHAT SHOULD I CALL YOU?

---------"baby? are you actually serious right now? ... alright then. my name is delilah river chester, but no one in their right mind calls me delilah, except for my dad and his new family. all my friends call me other lilah or deli, and some of them call me chester, but other than that, i dunno. my mom gave me her last name, because she hated my dad more than anything, and he didn't have any choice in what she named me. she said that she chose the name delilah because it means one who is weakened, and that i was already at a disadvantage, since my dad was a complete ass - but that she knew i'd always be able to overcome that. not sure why she chose to give me a middle name that's a body of water, but it words. whenever i'm pissed off, i just remember my namesake and calm down and let everything flow."

NOW, WHEN WERE YOU BORN? HOW OLD ARE YOU?

---------"alright, so i wasn't born anywhere in massachusetts - i wasn't even born on this coast. my mom lived in seattle for most of her life, and that's where she met my dad - and that's where my mom stayed. i was born there on the third of june, almost twenty one years ago. my birthday is gonna be next week, and i'll be turning twenty one. that makes me feel pretty old when i think about it like that. i dunno much about my birth, but i think it was a pretty decent day. not as if there was anyone to record it or anything like that. doesn't matter - i never really celebrate my birthday anyway."

WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PARENTS?

---------"my mom's name was julia chester and she was only forty three when she died. my mom raised me my whole life, always lived in seattle, working as a waitress to make ends meet. she wanted to be an artist, but having me come along and having the man she loved, run off on her, put her plans on hold. she was a great mom though, and i loved her more than anyone on the planet. my dad on the other hand ... his name was marcus lebrand and he was a jerk. he was working in seattle and he knocked up my mom. he promised her they'd get married - he even let her plan the whole wedding, up until a week before. then he ran off and refused to acknowledge my existence for sixteen years. he's a stock broker, and a good one so he's got a lot of money. he married some heiress and she doesn't do anything except for primp and preen her two little high school daughters. i don't like them and they don't like me. we have a family dinner once a week, and otherwise i stay way from them all. nothing about them can relate to my life, and that makes them hate me."

WHY ARE YOU HERE IN BOSTON AGAIN?

---------"well, i was attending university in seattle so i could take care of my mom, but when she passed away, my dad demanded i come to boston so i could spend more time with him. i'm quite sure it's his attempt to assuage his guilty conscience for fucking over my mom before i was born, but there you are. i transferred to boston university a few weeks ago and now i'm here. i told my dad there was no way i was gonna live in his house, and i didn't want to live on campus for the remainder of my junior year of college, so i moved in with an old friend. well ... he's actually an ex boyfriend of mine, but he's kind of been my best friend through all the tough times."

I'M SURE YOU HAVE SIBLINGS, WHO ARE THEY?

---------"madonna and elsie lebrand. they're my dad's daughters from his marriage to my stepmom, and they're both eighteen right now. they're finishing their junior year of high school, and they hate me almost as much as i hate them. they're both spoiled little brats, and i prefer not to be around them if i can avoid it. i honestly think that they hate me more than their mother does, which is hard 'cause she hates me a lot."

QUICK, LIST THREE THINGS YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT.

---------"well, i've never been one to worry about material possessions, but there are a few things i know i wouldn't be happy if i didn't have them. the first one is my dog, sierra, because he's been my best friend through everything. i adopted him when my mom got sick, because he gave me something to focus my attention on. i always make sure he's got someone looking after him, if i have to go away. the second thing is my mother's ring that she gave me before she passed away. i never take it off my finger, to make sure that there's always a part of her that's with me. the other thing is my mom's recipe book - i cook my way through it when i feel lonely, and it makes me feel a lot better about my situation. it came all the way to boston with me, and i'm not gonna let it go. anything that ties me to my mom, matters to me."

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE? SONG? HOBBY? PIZZA TOPPING?

---------"remember the titans, wonderwall, cooking, cheese and pepperoni."

WHO'S YOUR LAST TEXT MESSAGE FROM? WHAT DOES IT SAY?

---------"currently it says: dallas is a fag, why don't you stay with me? it's from my cousin aliyaah who lives here in boston, and she's not too pleased that i chose to stay with my ex boyfriend instead of with her and my aunt and uncle - from my mom's side, obviously. she and i've always been really close, so i know it hurts her that i'm choosing to stay with a friend, but i just feel better if i'm not a burden to her family. she'll het over it - she has the attention span of a mentally retarded goldfish."

CAN YOU TELL ME A LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF?

---------"it sucks to try and explain who i am, 'cause i don't even really know at this point, but i guess i can try. most people say that i'm responsible, and i guess i can't argue - i took care of my mom for two years while studying. my father calls me spoiled, but i don't think he knows the meaning of the word. my half sisters call me bitchy, but that's really because they just push my buttons and are asking for it most of the time. the teachers in my high school called me hard working - which makes sense, since i was the valedictorian of my class and I got a full ride scholarship to university of washington. my boss from the coffee shop i made food at, used to call me charismatic, mostly because i knew how to talk to the customers and get them to like me and give me bigger tips. the other people at my college used to call me a nerd, but that's just how i am. is it really that bad that i like playing gears of war when i'm not studying? well, my half sisters would say so. those are all things people say about me, but then of course there are the things i only know about myself. i'm kinda timid when it comes to a lot of things, and i have to be coerced into doing new stuff - especially with relationships. self destructive is another good word, since i take out all my mistakes on myself. i can't stand doing even one thing wrong, so i just beat myself up when something goes out of place. oh, you could also call me secretive, since i kind of have to be. i don't talk about where i'm from, and i just tend to pass myself off as boring - which i suppose makes me tricky as well. it just depends on how you see me. then again - everything in life is pretty subjective."

GIVE ME SOME BACKGROUND ON YOU, DUDE.

---------"basically, it goes like this. my dad knocked up my mom, then ran off before they were supposed to get married. she had me and raised me her whole lonesome life, without enough time to have another relationship or do anything other than be a waitress. when i was sixteen, my dad suddenly wanted to know me, so he had me come visit - which is when i met dallas - we dated for a while but then i called it off. long distance wasn't working for me. i stopped visiting after that. about two years ago, my mom started having super bad headaches and she got diagnosed with a brain tumor. she had chemotherapy and we tried everything, but it just didn't work. the last six months she spent at home because that was all she wanted. she died about three months ago and i moved to boston after my dad asked me to."

EVERYONE HAS SECRETS, WHAT'S YOURS?

---------"why in god's name would i tell you my deep dark secrets? (she recently found out that she is infertile and unable to have children at any point in her life. before that, when her mother was in the late stages of her cancer, she assisted her mother in ending her life, by leaving a bottle of morphine out where her mother could reach it. she allowed people to believe that it was in fact the cancer that killed her.)"

---------hey, SAND IN OUR STILETTOS, my name is ZAZU and i'm SEVENTEEN years old. i've been roleplaying for TOO MANY years and i like using ASHLEY GREENE as my play by. i found you through EVA and my other characters here are ALIYAAH RONSON & HOLDEN COLLINS.. here's a sample of my work! -----------------------------------------------------

rafe was impulsive – that was what got him into trouble about ninety three percent of the time. the other seven percent was him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. when he was training, he had a schedule mapped out for him by someone else, a schedule he had to follow if he wanted to continue playing. all he’d ever wanted was to play soccer for a living, and even a good glass of whiskey and a hot girl couldn’t distract him from that. when he was training, he behaved himself and focused all of his attention on his goal – that was why he was the youngest player on the team, and why he worked so hard to be kept where he was. he knew it was pure luck that someone had even seen him play and thought he was good enough. the whole story that the public knew about how he was discovered, was total bullshit. with his large family and lack of money, he’d never been able to play in the big leagues that sported names of professional players having started there. his family had barely been able to pay for him to buy a pair of cleats to play for his school team. the only reason he’d even been seen at his mediocre practices, was because of a flat tire and a real madrid scout who’d been on his way to see a local game between two of the major private schools. the luck which had lead him to rafe’s school in an attempt to find someone to help him with his car, had been the one saving grace – as had rafe’s impossibly lucky timing, where he successfully landed a bicycle kick, much to his own surprise. there was nothing particularly strong about the rest of his teammates, but that one kick had been enough for the scout to offer rafe his card and tell him to show up to a training session the next weekend. he’d been terrified to the ends of the earth that he wouldn’t be able to do anything right, and it hadn’t helped that his cleats were so worn that they were falling apart. more than one person had laughed when he’d shown up at the session – until he’d replicated the bicycle kick that impressed the scout in the first place. it was at that point that people finally sat up straight and saw him – at which point he was pretty much thrust into the spotlight, spinning a false tale about where he was from and how he'd been miraculously discovered.

it was this miracle story that haunted him and kept him on track when he was training during the season. he didn’t get plastered because he didn’t want to be hungover for a game or practice. he didn’t get in fights because he didn’t want to pull a muscle and be out for even a day. the only reason his picture had begun showing up in the papers was because of the off season, where he’d been able to actually reap the rewards of being an up and coming football star. even so, he’d seemingly slid into the shadows when the season had started up again, until he’d blown out his knee during the first match of the season. he continued to say it’d been a purposeful attempt to sabotage him, but there was no proof, and so he found himself completely useless and needing at least four months to recover entirely. sure, the team was upholding his contract, and as soon as he was cleared by a doctor, he was allowed to return to practices, but he knew more than anyone what this kind of injury could do. if it didn’t heal properly, he’d be forever doomed to a weak knee, on top of the fact that he’d be missing half of his first full year on the team. it was a blow to the heart, as well as the ego, given his dreams. sure, he was only twenty one and there was a long stretch ahead of him, but it also meant that a permanent injury would be more than devastating – it’d be completely and utterly catastrophic. he wanted nothing more than to be back on the field, kicking a ball around with the guys that were now his substitute family. it was that desire that had sent him to new york city to see the number one recommended sports rehabilitation facility, to put him on track to get better. this move also proved to tempt him and his reckless nature. without a plan for every day to be training or at events, he was reveling in the fame. he went out and reaped the rewards of being a familiar face, drinking his nights away and waking up with new york’s finest models in his bed, and the numbers of a list actresses. he was living the high life, he knew that, but in the back of his mind, he also knew that it had to stop. there was bound to be a point at which everything came tumbling down around him, and he’d regret his actions. he needed to slow down before he broke.

going to physical therapy was extremely irritating and aggravating, especially since his knee felt fine. after having rested it for two weeks straight, he felt fine, but he was smart enough to know that the chances were, the minute he popped his knee into an awkward position, it would be gone for good. he hated the smell and the sound of the office, and the only bright side was the gorgeous receptionist who had a tendency to wear tight fitting or low cut shirts that gave him a wonderful view of her perky breasts. he didn’t deny that he glanced at them whenever he was signing in, nor did he even hide it from her. he didn’t care if she knew he was looking – was it such a bad thing if she saw him staring at her tits? he’d never been one to really beat around the bush, so why should he change his behavior just because he saw her on a regular basis? things would’ve been a bit different if he didn’t see her four days a week. if he wasn’t bound to see her again and again, he more than likely would’ve taken her home with him the last time she’d hit on him – two nights before when they were at a club together and they’d been dancing. when her hands had attempted to go into his pants, he’d realized that he needed to back off and let her go. he hadn’t wanted to get her into bed, because then he’d have to see her every day and deal with the potential repercussions and clingy attitudes that inevitably came after sex. he’d found that since his name was in magazines, women tried to make one night into many, just to get their name out with his. the last thing he needed was for some girl he saw on a regular basis, to think that because he stared at her boobs on a regular basis, that he had some sort of real feelings for her. everything was so much safer as long as he kept his hands to himself, made his comments and got his ogling in when she couldn’t construe it as intent to take her home with him. as a general rule, he avoided people that he interacted with on a regular basis, if he was at a bar or a club, because it made life easier. everything he did was so he wouldn’t have to deal with irritating and overbearing women, which he was beginning to see were part of his lifestyle. it was an odd thing to complain about, but then again, he was odd.

leaning against the bar with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes swept across the vast expanse of people. he’d already been fending off fame whores and attention seekers for half an hour, and he needed someone to focus his attention on so he could dodge the verbal assaults and awkward moments. looking away, he took the shot of tequila sitting on the counter and knocked it back, feeling the burn as the liquid slid down his throat and his attention wavered momentarily. as he looked back into the crowd, he saw the familiar face of the girl who he’d been talking to only a few hours before. a smirk passed over his lips as she looked at him and then away, making him chuckle to himself as he watched her distract herself by grinding on some prepubescent blonde boy – or at least that’s what he was compared to rafe. he took in the view of her legs, accentuated by her short dress and electric blue heels, watching her ass sway as she walked, ignoring him and heading to the bar instead. he knew she intended to win their little wager, but she’d never seen him on the top of his game, and he wasn’t about to go easy on her because she was young. as he walked towards her, he waved for another shot until he was standing next to her, his arm brushing hers gently. her words rang in his ears and he chuckled, knocking back the second shot of tequila, watching her bodily movements for a moment before replying, “not really. just anyone who isn’t going to look at me and squeal ‘oh my god, you’re that soccer player.’” his words were dry, but the grin on his lips was humorous as he made the obvious move to look her up and down. he leaned over and ran his hand over her side, down her arm and her waist, pausing at the hem of her dress before drawing his hand back to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he commented, “i like this dress on you, of course it’d probably look better if it were off – potentially on the floor.” he grinned, knowing that he could pull off the lame remark because of the grin he was sporting. ordering another shot, he waited until he’d thrown it back and glanced around the crowded room before he looked her in the eyes again and commented, “honestly though, i like how it gives you some nice curves – anorexic girls have nothing to grab when i’m banging them.” he ginned and eyed her chest before looking away, half smirking. step one: get her to engage.