Bellamy, Ivy

Night and Day Collide

Full name: Ivy Grace Bellamy

Gender: All girl

Grade: Sophomore

Age : 16

Date of Birth:  December 7th, 1994

Build: Long, and slender but athletic.

Height: 1.68

Weight: 123 pounds

Hair: Black, long and cut in layers

Eyes: Midnight blue

General Appearance: There’s always That Girl who always looks absolutely put-together: her hair is flawless, her outfits are cute and sensible, her make-up is never flashy or trashy. That Girl, the epitome of flawless. That Girl is not Ivy Grace Bellamy. That is not to say that Ivy is always looking as though she's gone to hell and beyond and barely made it out alive; no, she just simply gets bored of the same thing over and over again.

Taking after her welsh mother (or so her adoptive mother says), Ivy's hair is black, a bit on the wavy side, and cut in layers. Her eyes are very blue, and slightly tilted, framed by thick, but not particularly long lashes. Rosy, her lips are bow shaped, and often coated in lip gloss or cherry-flavored chapstick. Ivy is unarguably pretty, and has a tilt of her shoulders like she knows it.

Ivy's style changes with her mood. While one day she may spot her wearing a cute summer dress, demure make up, flat shoes and a bow on her head, the next day she might be caught wearing shorts, black tights, boots and a a shirt that may border the line of inappropriate.

Athletic, her body is stripped off most fat due to the sports she practices. Ivy considers her legs her best attribute, which she is quick to point out after a drink or two, and wouldn't you like to touch them? She'd drag your hand and force you to do it, too. Aware that her eyes capture people's attention often as well, Ivy coat her lashes and lids with Chanel waterproof mascara and Sephora liquid eyeliner. They don’t flake, they don’t smudge.


Personality:

adj romantic (r-mntk)
Given to thoughts or feelings of romance

adj eloquent [ĕl'ə-kwənt]
Vividly or movingly expressive

adj fickle [ˈfikl]
always changing (one's mind, likes and dislikes etc) I think that they are fickle.
n fickleness

There is a girl sitting on the curb when I emerge from the music store, and I swear under my breath, mentally blaming Frank for yet another damn thing. In my fairly foul mood, I do not plan to give her a second thought but she is sitting two inches from my car. Even with her back to me, everything about her groans boredom. I put my viola in the back seat, with as much noise and scuffling that I can manage, even throwing out a swear word or two in the process. I even yell at Frank on the phone when he calls me again, in hopes to make it clear to him that I now hate him, and to the girl, that she needs to move. But by the time I come out she is still there, giving the appearance of not wishing to move anytime soon.

I really do hate Frank.

I come around the car and stand in front of her. She is still sitting motionless, chin tilt up, her eyes closed against the afternoon sun, pretending not to notice that I am standing right in front of her. Maybe she is from one of my classes and I'm supposed to recognize her. I figure that if she is a student, what with her too short shorts, she is not within the dress code. Her strawberry-colored hair is curly and cut in layers, and I instantly peg her for a witch; she certainly is pretty enough to be one--almost revoltingly so.

I am stuck with a fellow trouble-maker that could skin me alive for Samhain, and I'm away from the school. Lovely."M'dear," I force out the words, making a point to sound cordial but firm. My mouth fixed itself, by curling onto a polite smile. "Your rear is blocking my bumper. Do you think you might move your loitering five feet to the south and let me leave?" When her eyes finally flicker open, it feels like I'm drowning in icy water. Or worse--like my hear has decided to stop beating.

The phrase 'and my heart skipped a beat' has never made more sense to me that it does now--and yet, it's not fitting enough. It is more like your heart ponders about stopping; and for the second that it does, there is certain kind of hollowness that is sweet and bitter and exhilarating. Your heart stutters as it makes its mind, and when it comes back, it returns in full-force, hand in hand with a full body flush, that would tempt the tamest of the vampires.

This is how I feel when I see her. This is how I would feel when our skins meet, and when her fingers graze the skin of my upper arm, they would leave behind invisible promises that feel like Forever.

***
I hate her

It's been too weeks, and I am finding myself missing Frank. 
I hate that cocky walk. I hate that stupid smirk. I hate the way she eats his words when he talks. I hate how her incisors are longer than they should be, like a vampire's--and before I forget, I hate her vampire friends. I hate her curly ginger hair, and how it tickles my face whenever she leans in to kiss me. And while we are at it, I hate her chapped, rosy and full mouth. I hate how she hums for everything. I hate those emerald eyes. I hate those lush eyebrows and the way they arch when judging me. I hate how perfect she is--it's abnormal.

At least when I was with Frank, I did not feel like a sack of potatoes.

History: Hailing from the Mythology-filled Wales, everything in Ivy's family revolves around the number 7. When she was 7 months old, she was left at the doorstep of her town's very own Boo Radley's, who happened to lived in the seventh house, of the seventh street. Seven days later, she received the name of Ivy Grace Bellamy, by her now adopting parents, a couple of renegade witches. She was, too, the seventh children of the couple, and the seventh one in the family to receive the name of 'Ivy.'

Growing up in a household of Night Worlders was no easy fit, and it took Ivy seven years to realize that while her parents, siblings and family friends were witches, she was nothing more than just another human. Seven months later, it struck Ivy that no matter what she did, she'd never stand out between her siblings. It was then, that Ivy Grace started to zoom out during conversations when she felt left out, and retrieved to her little own world. Following her mother's advice, she picked up a few musical instruments (Viola, Piano and Pipes), and surrounded herself with music while all her siblings were busy creating potions, and torturing a few humans with charmed and potentially dangerous artifacts.

By the age of thirteen, Ivy Grace began to act out in school; she'd steal potions from her siblings and have her classmates drink it, she'd disappear for a few days and not return until a few days later, strongly smelling of pot and alcohol, among several other activities that scandalized her parents. Deciding that, perhaps, she was in need to be surrounded by people like her, humans in the know, they shipped her off to America, to the Boarding School led by Daybreakers.