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Stefany Wirtzfeld

"Life like the beach. The sand doesn't let every tide change it."

0 · 115 views · located in Chicago, Illinois

a character in “Writers Digest”, as played by The Vampire Mistress

Description

Name: Aryanna DeLioncourt
Pen Name: Stefany Wirtzfeld
Age: 27
weight: 115 pounds
height: 5'6
Brief physical Description: She is pretty fit with dirty-blonde hair and light, grey eyes. She is usually in long, flowy dresses and sandals with a brightly colored bikini underneath.
Picture:
Image
General Demeanor: She is joyful and fun loving.
Personality: She is friendly, and she loves her fans. She loves touring and signing autographs. She loves meeting the people behind her fame. She always has a friendly smile on her face. It seems like she always has energy. She stays up late and wakes early to do sunrise yoga before writing. She doesn't get upset very easily and is very going along. She likes to just sit on the beach and watch the waves. She does smoke a little bit of marijuana, but she respects other people's wishes. So she only smokes it before bed to wind down. She is also very friendly to paparazzi and often asks them about their lives.
Likes:
- Running with her dog, Gingie.
-the beach
-her fans
-writing
-she likes pretty much everyone who treats her with the same respect she show them.
Dislikes:
-People who judge people based on appearances
-cold weather
Quirks:
-She won't eat meat
- She won't go in the water after dark
History:
She was born in England as the youngest of five older siblings and the only girl. When she was eight, her parents moved to Australia. At first she didn't really like it, until she was introduced to surfing. From then on she surfed all the time. She went everyday before and after school to surf. When she turned thirteen, she decided she wasn't going to play the whole game of school anymore. She ditched everyday to go to the beach. She was inspired by one of the dudes she met on the beach. She had been playing guitar and singing a song that she came up with on the spot. He told her she was good. She decided to write a short story about a young homeless woman who had traveled the world with the man she truly loved. The story was a fantasy she had been making up about the dude who had complimented her. He ended up dying in a storm that rolled up in the dark. He had gone surfing after dark. She decided to get that published and since then had been writing.
Passage from the new novel rough draft:
Harlen stood in the dead of night. The air was still, too still. He looked around. [i] I know you're here, poppet. Don't be foolish and make this difficult for me. I don't want to have to hurt you.[i]
"Come out, pet. There's no use hiding," he called, his voice was smooth and seductive. No woman could resist him. He ran a finger through his soft, jet black hair. He stood completely still. He heard slight movement behind him. He spun around with inhuman speed. He saw her and shot her with a dart. It was a slight sedative. It would make her calm down and make her complacent. She looked up at him with pleading and pain in her eyes.
"It's nothing personal, pet. We are only trying to help you fight your addiction," he said, offering his hand to help her up. She accepted it willingly. He pulled her up and she fell into his chest. He held her against him and helped her to the car. It would take her back to the rehab center. He went to his hotel room. He undressed himself and collapsed into bed exhausted. He fell asleep instantly. He awoke the next morning at around ten. He stretched comfortably before he got out of bed. He yawned as he headed into the bathroom of his hotel room. He took a quick shower, before changing into a clean outfit. He changed into a pair of cargo pants and a quiksilver t-shirt. He decided that he wanted coffee, so he decided to go down to the little cafe. He locked the room of the charming, little bed and breakfast.
"Excuse me, sir," the owner said with a friendly smile.
"Yes, madame," he replied, his tone seductive again.
"Are you wishing to stay another night?"
"Please book me for the rest of the weekend," he said. He left the hotel and walked down the street with a spring in his step. He went to the cafe and ordered a cup of coffee.

So begins...

Stefany Wirtzfeld's Story