mccafferty , willow raine

[WILLOW RAINE MCCAFFERTY]

full name • willow raine mccafferty
nick names • will , willow bear
age • sixteen
grade • junior
job • student , ballerina
hometown • manhattan , new york
sexuality • heterosexual
member group • high school

height • five foot , ten inches
hair • blonde
eyes • hazel
play by • karlie kloss

likes •

sunrise, silk sheets, cigarettes, pretty words, insects, psychobabble, ballet, day dreaming, men, the good kind of nostalgia, painting, intoxication, diners, long conversations at two am, sylvia plath, romance, writing letters, empty notebooks, sunshine, acoustic music, polaroids, black tights, old photographs, traveling, entwined fingers, holding hands, literature, intelligence, canvas, fresh flowers, the feel of bristles on a new paint brush, thrift stores, knickknacks, vintage shopping, kisses and cuddling, the smell of fried food, early morning showers, piggy back rides, climbing trees, old coins, candy necklaces, thunderstorms, a softer world, baking cupcakes, the smell of rain, andy warhol, language, black and white films, knee-high socks, winter mornings, fireflies, feeling in control, braided hair, poetry, daisy chains, loft parties, when a guy kisses her neck, open windows, making speeches, organization, offbeat memoirs, the city lights, fresh air, patisserie windows, freedom, swing sets, reading in the park, collecting pins, audrey hepburn, losing track of time, altruism, typewriters, flirting, giving gifts, rain caught in spider webs, sparkling eyes, vanilla scented candles, people who smile a lot, places that are green and lush, having her hair played with, laughing, playing dress up, feeling loved

dislikes •

ignorance, pretentious people, racism, broken hearts, disorganization, feeling out of control, smog, feigned naivety, losing things, sleeping in late, hospitals, hairspray, broken promises, stupidity, clingy people, small spaces, not being able to shower, being used, being lied to, depressing movies, textured foods, feeling full, vast amounts of water, nasogastric tubes, white jeans, hypochondriacs, pouting girls, pain she's not in control of, her thighs, desperation, animal cruelty, obnoxious emo music, being judged, clingy bathing suits, chapped lips, paper cuts, dripping taps, losing at anything, motels, itchy sheets, pink blush, long car rides, sports of any kind, board games, rejection, religion, narrow-mindedness, her own feelings, people who act in a certain way to project a certain image, nightmares, being alone, breaking things, poor grammar, meat, crocodile tears, fake nails, deadlines, political campaigns, the smell of new shoes, girls who purposely act stupid, embarrassment, codependent people, power trips, global warming, people who can't laugh at themselves, guilt, label slaves, very pale lipstick shades, clumsiness, matching socks, insomnia, messes, getting personal, difficult decisions, her own neurosis, silence, failure, feeling out of control

habits/quirks •

has to wake up and go to sleep on the same side of the bed, doesn't function in the morning until she's brushed her teeth, eats cereal with a fork, has to sleep with some kind of noise on, reads when nervous, runs into things all the time, forgets things she should remember, remembers things she should forget, wants everything to perfect, religiously counts her calories, extremely fidgety, cutting food into tiny pieces, organizing things alphabetically or by color

fears •

failure, rejection, gaining weight, hospitals, abandonment, the dark, blood, losing control, being unloved, never overcoming her fears

dreams •

she harbor's a quixotic dreams of someday living a life of bohemia, writing a novel on an old-fashioned typewriter. but, truth be told, she could never stray from the straight and narrow academic path because she's kind of a workaholic. ballet will always remain number one to willow, though she has no plans of making a career out of this particular passion of hers. even though the thought of gaining weight is enough to send her reeling into a mental break down, she would like to some day overcome her eating disorder; to be free of the bondage it's placed her in. she'd also like to see herself being able to open up more with others, to trust someone other than herself.

secrets •

suffers from anorexia nervosa, has a mild case of ocd, her mother committed suicide when she was thirteen

overall •

charming, erratic, intellectual, trustworthy, fearsome, compassionate, stubborn, skeptical, paranoid, determined, naive, neurotic, sweetheart, literary, insecure, passionate, hard working, reliable, ambitious, open-minded, sensitive, people pleasing, self motivated, self destructive, sociable, romantic, quixotic, analytical, too trusting, creative, obsessive compulsive, off beat, perfectionist, introverted, lovable, reckless, unique

mother • raine mccafferty , deceased , former model turned socialite
father • grayson mccafferty , forty nine , mccafferty enterprise executive
siblings • none
pets • nova , teacup maltese
other family •
william mccafferty , grandfather , ceo of mccafferty enterprise
eleanor mccafferty , grandmother , socialite


overall •

the year was nineteen eighty seven. grayson mccafferty was on a business trip, residing temporarily in a hotel in arceau, france. this is where our story begins, a flourishing young businessman and a gorgeous french model. they were destined to be together, correct? yes, you have guessed rightly. when they first met, there was an instant spark, a connection that neither could explain. she was glowing, the epitome of perfect with illuminative blonde hair and pale blue eyes; it was no wonder grayzon fell for the woman. they were destined to be madly in love for the remainder of their days together, but upon returning to the states after their marriage, it didn't quite remain the picture of perfection.

for the two solid years of their would be honeymoon, grayson's work schedule became heavier and heavier, leaving less time for his wife, raine, who remained stuck in their pent house apartment in the upper east side of manhattan; new to the country and still working on her english. so it was just about as big a shock to them, as it was to their friends, when the couple found out they were pregnant. raine wasn't ready to be a mother, she knew that she'd miss her once flawless figure, and the thought of carrying around another person for nine months scared her. she was in a foreign country and still barely able to speak the language, how would she handle being a mother?

willow raine mccafferty was born at the mount sinai hospital just off fifth avenue. she hadn't had a scheduled delivery, due to the fact the the doctors had confirmed she would need a c-section. little did they know, the woman had been dabbling in the religion of scientology, which believed in the art of the silent birthing process; meaning that children born in to a calm and silent environment were more likely to grow up to be intelligent and well adjusted adults then those that weren't. but willow wasn't coming too easily. raine literally had to bite down and hold her grip on a thick terry cloth egyptian cotton towel to silence the screams that wanted to emit themselves from pain. but she got through it, promising herself no more children after willow.

they only had to remain in the hospital for two days before the three returned home, and grayson was back to work even quicker then that. from a young age, willow had a full head of blonde hair and it was no secret that she'd inherited more of her mothers genes then her fathers. with grayson constantly buried in his work, it was only natural that she would form a stronger bond with her mother, and she did. for a number of years, raine was her closest companion. they spent their days gallivanting about the city and their nights tucked inside the family penthouse, curled up with a book on the sofa in her father's study.

willow's love of ballet set in around the age of five, when she began taking classes at a studio just a few blocks from home. as always, her mother was greatly involved in the activity, taking the time to walk her to class each day and attending every one of her recitals. things seemed perfect then. with private schools, expensive clothes, and privileged friends, willow lived the life of a typical child growing up in the upper east side of manhattan. the only thing lacking was her non-existent relationship with grayson. it took a while to accept that her father would never be able to give her the time and affection that she so desired, but she finally came to quips with the fact.

just after her ninth birthday, willow's mother went through a phase of depression, contemplating the idea of suicide. grayson was the one to stop her the first time, but she resented him. for the next few years, the family struggled to deal with the woman who, once completely composed, now struggled just to get out of bed. it was hard on willow, especially when they had to admit raine into a mental hospital. raine spent a few months in intensive care before convincing her doctors to allow her to return home. it wasn't more than a few weeks that she attempted suicide again, this time succeeding. willow was the one to find her, lying in the porcelain tub in a pool of blood. traumatized, she was unable to attend the funeral. to this day she still regrets it.

in the following year, will developed an eating disorder. no one caught on at first, until she ended up in the ICU with a tube down her nose. she had starved herself, almost to the point of death, and although she was finally getting help, she had a long way to go. three weeks after being hospitalized, she was sent to a treatment center for a few months, returning home before her freshman year of high school. to this day, willow still struggles with anorexia. although she hasn't returned to any treatment centers, she's come dangerously close to being admitted again. now a junior in high school, her time is spent between ballet, studies, and the occasional party. he's single, and has yet to meet a boy who's managed to snag her heart. but in the meantime, she's just fine with being good ole' willow.

your name • lauren
your age • sixteen
roleplaying experience • three years
how you found us • advertisment
roleplay sample •

“Dude, what’s up with you and that Estella kid?”

The tone of the guy’s voice was stricken with curiosity, saturated in a hunger only to be fulfilled with all the gritty details. The assumption that only girls were the ones to gossip and beg for details on relationships was an all too common misconception, as guys could be equally as curious in all aspects of the word. The corners of Weston Aldridge's lips turned up into an all too familiar smirk, the lopsided, boyish grin an attractive feature that seemed to be a nearly permanent fixture. “She’s not a kid.” He said, still grinning at the mention of her. It was almost amusing how easily he could speak of her, like she was more his girlfriend than anything. Funny how someone could so easily drift past and horde your attention away from all others in your life. As bemusing as it would come to sound, all Weston’s attention was solely placed on Estella when he was with her; a difficult task for a guy with the attention span of a four year old. “Right, whatever, let’s rephrase then.” Smirked the guy opposite Weston, grinning wolfishly as he dipped the end of his pizza crust in a small container of garlic sauce, proceeding to pop the end of the piece in his mouth. “Dude, what’s up with you and that Estella chick?” He said, now clearly more amused then he had been to start with, shifting against the hard plastic seat as he bore a hole through Weston by staring.

To Weston, it was a loaded question. There was a variety of ways he could answer the question, but instead of answers arising, Weston found himself with a shitload of questions. What were he and Estella? He’d asked himself the same reoccurring question time after time and proceeded to draw blanks. He knew they were something, and yet he couldn’t quite figure out what that something was. “So you gotten any yet?” That was a typical question in the world of testosterone and y chromosomes. Weston shook his head at his friend, chuckling out of clear amusement as the boy seemed downtrodden with the anticipation of details dying down in moments. Sighing heavily, he scooped up his own piece of pizza and folded it in half the way a taco is formed, taking a too-large bite off the end and setting it back down on the paper plate as pizza sauce dripped off the side. “Well, what’chu gunna do?” Asked the boy in a thick New York accent, one that was close to mirroring Weston’s own accent. And with that particular question, West glanced forlornly out the window of the pizza joint. Why, you might ask? Because that was precisely the question he’d been going over for weeks.

For as long as Weston and his friend had been coming to the pizza place on fifty fourth, he was near convinced that the workers and waiters there knew him better than his own family did. Or, at the very least, that’s what he liked to think. The entire day seemed to have gone down much like the majority of Saturday’s that Weston had enjoyed since he turned twelve and began smoking. Letting a sigh escape him, he finished off the rest of the pizza slice and proceeded with finishing off his bottled water, crumpling the Aquafina bottle and tossing it across the room, and over one persons head, to the trash bin on the opposite side. The dim afternoon sunlight was ever dwindling, the traffic never ceasing and the thick smell of grease and smoke wafted around him and through the doorway as it chimed with every person that entered or left the restaurant. “So, what’re we doing tonight?” Weston’s friend piped up as he lit a cigarette, Camels brand and the only one that West couldn’t stand. He’d gotten a migraine from them once, never touched the brand again. It was as if he assumed all Weston’s plans included him in some way, to this West smirked knowingly. “We? You got a bird in your pocket, or what?” He said, in the smart ass tone that was all too common.

Sliding his blackberry out of the front right pocket of his jeans, Weston flipped open the screen, which reflected with an illuminating brightness, causing West to wince slightly as he checked the time. “Hey, I gotta get going.” Snapping the phone shut and sliding it back in his pocket, he peered once out the window of the pizza place and onto the pedestrian littered sidewalk, which then transitioned into the traffic lined streets where yellow cabs and a variety of other cars were just melting through the ozone layer without a care in the world. Hey, Weston did pay attention to the news once in a while, thank you very much. Raking a hand through mussed brown locks, he stood and pushed his chair back under the table as he dropped his plate into the trash. “Same time next week?” Asked Weston, directing his attention to his friend as he stood, they laughed about something, shared the same shoulder-bump-handshake and parted ways. Now he had to get to the airport to pick up Estella.