Celeste De La Cour

[Celeste De La Cour]

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Name: Celeste Chanel De La Cour

Age: I can NOT believe you just asked me that. SHAME on you. What do you mean I can't complete the application unless I say? Fine, ugh, I'm twenty one.

....FINE, twenty two. Or, you know, one thousand three hundred and eleven if you count years in stasis, but I DON'T.

Gender: Female, obviously.

Species: Human, but, with a few genetic improvements, as I like to think of them. 

Planet of Origin: Paradeux, Andromeda Galaxy

Occupation: Ewww, I don't have a job, don't be ridiculous.

Physical Description:How about... 'flawless'?

Oh, you want more than that. Okay, fine. Since I'm assuming you don't have access to 42nd Century Celebrity bios, I suppose I can fill you in. Well, I guess, height wise, I'm 5"2, not that anybody notices how short I am. Have you seen the heels I wear? Build, yeah, okay, I'm pretty skinny, and muscle tone is yuck, so forget that. Weight? That's even worse than asking my age, gawd, what is wrong with you!? But, actually, since it might surprise you, I'm actually happy to share. 40lbs. No, that's not a typo. Genetic modification remember? My eyes are brown, my skin is perfectly olive, and my hair? Lusciously long, usually dark, but sometimes I highlight it blonde.

If we're talking outfits, fashion with a capital FASH. We're talking dresses, maybe skirts if I HAVE to be practical, but they better be high class. I'm never out of my towering heels, I don't care where we're going, and you had better believe my make-up will be FLAWLESS before I let anybody see me. I usually go pretty heavy with the jewellery as well. I like to sparkle.

Oh, and I'd like to clear one thing up. No, I don't wear too much perfume! Yes, okay, so sometimes photographers and journalists and even other socialites have had to leave the room because it's a BIT strong, but I don't wear too much...

...it's genetic implants. My body produces it thanks to the modifications. SO there.

Personality:

• Trait 1: Spoiled Okay, if you're reading this bit, you're PROBABLY thinking of all those trash pieces on the transnet or in the weekly holozines about me. Yeah, yeah, I know the ones. The ones that say I'm horribly spoiled. Is it spoiled that you have more money than some solar systems combined and have never worked a day in your life? It's not MY fault my life was perfect in every way and I could have whatever I wanted. No, I don't know what it's like to want for anything or have to work for anything, but calling me spoiled is just mean. I prefer to think of myself as 'effortlessly privileged'.
  
• Trait 2: Vain Okay, okay, so let's get this straight. Yes, I like fancy clothes and looking great. Yes, I will absolutely never ever compromise and it's probably my most important priority. Yes, I love anything expensive and fancy. If that makes me vain, then sure, I guess I'm vain! I think it's a little harsh. Did you know one time I overslept because I was hung over and woke up with only SIX hours to get ready before my next red carpet appearance and I was only FASHIONABLY late (I mean, I missed the movie, but was there for the press pictures, which is clearly the important part). Would a vain person do that?
• Trait 3: Shallow It's not like I don't have other interests. Outside of looking great, I love to party, drink, socialise, and party some more. Preferably where everybody will be looking at me and talking about me. That's not SHALLOW, that's just, y'know, me being me. Besides, technically, if you think about it, it'd be rude NOT to make the most of it and enjoy my life. Most people would kill to be me! So I have to make sure I'm always having the BEST time! It's a responsibility, really.
• Trait 3: Lazy You've probably read all those scandalous stories saying that I'm incredibly lazy and I absolutely hate having to do ANY kind of work at all. Joke's on them. I'm Princess Celeste Chanel De La Cour IX of Paradeux. I've never worked a day in my life, so how could I know if I hated it? Logic your way out of that one, haters! And yeah, it's true that I DO hate exercise, or any kind of work out, or you know, even having to walk far somewhere. It's not like I need to worry about keeping my figure, the genetic modifications do that for me. I mean, I still diet (not that I eat much thanks to modifications), but I won't exercise.
  
• Trait 5: Prissy Alright, so I like looking perfect. I LOVE looking perfect. And I absolutely hate anything that means I don't look perfect. Yes, that also means I hate mud, dirt, grime, bugs, the outdoors in general, etc. etc., but who doesn't? That stuff is GAR-ROSS! Besides, somebody like me should never have to go near any of it. Mud and bugs are for people who AREN'T ridiculously rich and beautiful, don't you know?
• Trait 6: Spunky Okay, guilty as charged on this one! I'm used to saying what I think and letting people have it if they cross me. I'm good with the jokes and the humour and SO witty (or so all the staff I grew up with who would be fired if they said otherwise claimed). I'm pretty awful at holding my tongue in any situation and will always say what I want. I've grown up in a world where nobody would EVER dare tell me to be quiet or what I was saying was in any way wrong, so why wouldn't I?

History: So I guess if you're not from around my timeline, let me tell you a bit about my family. The De La Cours, more or less, own the Andromeda Galaxy. Certainly we own the Paradeux System and the outlying worlds. The story goes that Daddy wasn't always a King. He was just impossibly wealthy. I mean, I could tell you what Cours Corp does, but to be honest, the list of what they DON'T do is shorter. Starships, fashion, television, online shopping, movies... Daddy's company produces everything, and before I was born, he spent some of the money and bought the Paradeux system, making himself King. So yeah, I'm an official princess. Cute, huh?

From there, the De La Cours company just grew and grew and grew, so, by the time I was a teenager, they were probably the biggest human owned company in the universe. Darned near it anyway! To say I grew up in wealth and perfect luxury probably doesn't really do it justice. My world was PERFECT in every way, I had everything I ever wanted, even my body, when I wanted to make changes, I'd have genetic modifications done. I never lifted a finger and never did a thing for myself. And I LOVED it. I thrived on the attention. Everywhere I went I was the absolute centre of attention. Of course, maybe I went a BIT far with some of the modifications to my body, but I started so young there was only one way to go! I'll tell you about them in the medical info bit, don't worry.

As a teenager, as I began to go to more and more parties, because that's where the real fun was, I did start getting a BIT of negative press. You see, I'd never shown ANY interest in learning about Daddy's company or what they did, and sure, sometimes the media criticised me for being shallow. One news reporter once went as far to call me a bimbo live on air! I think Daddy had her arrested. She definitely was never on the holoscreens again!

But I didn't care. If people didn't like that, well, that's not my problem, right? I was having the best time of ANYBODY in the galaxy. The ultimate party girl, the princess, the diva, the super socialite, all rolled into one, and I was loving it! I spent my time jetting all over the galaxy in my custom starship. I went through a lot of them, changing every few months to keep fashionable, of course. Always top of the range luxury yachts, with cryo pods. I mean, my ships were fast, of course they were, although they weren't the FASTEST around. See, I insisted on customised pink engine glow, and that slowed a ship down, but I didn't care. I had cryo pods, so I'd just freeze myself until I arrived at the next party.

And... that's where it all went wrong. See, something malfunctioned on my ship. I don't know what. I mean, after I recovered, I read some historical papers. Some hypothesised that the sheer amount of perfume my body produced caused a system to corrode, others that the 'vanity modifications' I'd insisted on having done had overheated the engine, but whatever happened, my ship's engines blew up, and it went spinning off into space, with myself frozen inside.

Now it's a thousand years later. And it gets worse! It turns out the malfunction of my ship all that time ago had been such a major news story, it had caused the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire to completely rewrite the laws of space travel, space safety, and the use of hyperlanes. It totally changed the galaxy, which made my disappearance a 'fixed point in time'. It meant I couldn't ever go back without breaking history, even if I find a time machine!

For now, I have one of the most luxurious yachts the Great and Bountiful Human Empire ever produced. Just... unfortunately, it's a thousand years old and in really bad shape...

Addition Medical Information: Okay, so, let's address the rumours. Yes, I've had a lot of genetic modification done to my body structure. I hate exercise and I wanted to keep thin, so I had my body density adjusted and reduced. It means I eat less, I weigh a LOT less than a regular human, but my muscle structure and skeleton are much, much lighter than an ordinary person too. What does that mean? Well, it means I'm a bit fragile, if you must know. And I'm very, very, very, VERY weak. I mean, I'm Celeste De La Cour, I don't do anything for myself! So what does it matter? But yes, my muscle mass has been reduced so much to keep my weight as it is, I can't open most doors without assistance. I mean, not that it matters, who doesn't have automatic doors? A thousand years in stasis has only made this worse and caused some degradation as well, to the point I am, well... I guess to put it politely, physically totally useless. Lucky I've got such a winning personality, huh?

Also, let's mention the perfume. Okay, maybe I went overboard. See, from when I was four, I had genetic implants so that my body produced a natural perfume scent, so I always smelled GREAT. The only thing is, you kinda get used to it, so over the years, I kept getting remodified to increase it, until now, yes, it's a BIT strong. No, I can't stop it. It's a GREAT smell though. I smell AH-MAZ-ING. It's just, y'know, a bit strong? I can actually adjust it by mental command in scent, but not in strength, because, uh, hello? I have to change scents to match my outfits!

RP Sample: Celeste awoke to total darkness. This was, to her, a surprise. Celeste hated the dark, and she had never had to experience it. She had AI computers her entire life, ready to bring the lights up as soon as she awoke. In fact, they did more than that, they scanned the room, they scanned her, analysed her outfit, and decided the best lighting to make sure she looked her best from all angles, and then lit the room. Darkness was new to her. And she panicked a little. She was in her cryo pod, but the door hadn't opened. She banged on it. The lock was open, but the door didn't budge. She paused, and she pushed with all of her might.

The door still did not budge.

Celeste sat back with a groan. She wasn't surprised. The genetic modifications she'd had over the years to keep her figure had left her so weak physically the chance of opening a regular door was a pipe dream to her, let alone a heavy cryo pod door. The thing was meant to be automated for this very reason! She paused, and she pushed again, straining and groaning, but without a hope of moving it. She sighed, falling backwards, panting heavily. In the enclosed cryo pod, with it still sealed with her inside, her perfume was strong enough to even make her eyes sting a little. She didn't worry though; she didn't think the implants creating the scent were too much; if she turned heads by entering because of it, all the better for them to look at her!

But smelling great didn't help her get out of the pod.
"SHIP!" she called out, her voice soft and sing-song. Again, genetically modified to give her the perfect 'princess' voice. Sometimes it was a curse, like right then, because her voice was too soft to call out loudly to get the computer's attention. It shouldn't have been a problem, the computers were programmed to respond to her voice no matter what. But in an emergency like this? She had to try and get it's attention. "SHIP! It's Celeste! Answer me!" she demanded. Despite her tone, she wasn't being THAT rude to the ship. It was, actually called SHIP. The computer system was, anyway. The Sentient Humanoid Interaction Program. S.H.I.P. "SHIIIIP! Help!" she called out, banging feebly on the pod door. She wasn't going anywhere unless she could get hold of somebody to help her, but she was all alone on her fancy star yacht.

There was no response. SHIP was clearly offline. But there was some hope, because lurking through the darkness, she could see a flashing pink light (Celeste had replaced all the lights with pink). The back-up system was, at least, still functioning.
"Back-up! Open the cryo door!" she yelled as loud as her soft voice would allow. After a brief, tense moment, there was a slight movement. The pod door strained and struggled and moved upwards, swinging open. Celeste stumbled out of the pod, her legs weak from, well, her general weakness aside, but so long in cryo. She nearly fell, not helped by her towering heels, but she managed to hold herself up. When you wore footwear as impractical as Celeste and were in the public eye as much as she was you soon learned to keep your balance. At least, when your heels were on steel or concrete. Outside of that was another matter, but a worry for another time.

She headed over to the control console. The entire room was bathed in pink light. Not the traditional mauve of a Mauve Alert, but true pink. Celeste had insisted on all the lights on the ship being pink. Even the emergency ones.

She headed to the console.
"Back-up Computer! Call Daddy! I'm gonna get him to sue the butts off whoever made this ship!" she commanded. But no call went through. She turned, fury in her eyes, hands on her hips, as she stared at the computer with the blinking light. "Why aren't you doing as I say!? Call Daddy!" she repeated. The back-up computer did no such thing, however, because it couldn't. It also couldn't speak, so it did its best to relay a message.

Blinking, in pink text, on the small screen, something was written. Celeste made her way toward it, and peered at it. The message simply read:

The year is 5431.

And Celeste realised her world had just changed forever...

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[Ace McShane]

Accepted!

Now what?