NAME: Emily Catherine Foster
NICKNAMES: Emma, Em-Kat
DATE OF BIRTH: July 19, 1990
PLACE OF BIRTH: Detroit, Michigan
CURRENT RESIDENCE: Ludlow. MO
HAIR COLOR: Blonde
EYE COLOR: Hazel (more green than brown)
WEIGHT: 130 lbs
RELATIONSHIP INFORMATIONSEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight
PARENTS: Lawrence “Wells” Foster III(father)| Elena Goode Foster
SIBLINGS: Lawrence “Larry” Foster IV
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Perpetually smitten
CURRENT RELATIONSHIP(S): None
PAST RELATIONSHIP(S) : Romances here and there but nothing serious.
OCCUPATION: Barista at Sstarbucks|Hostess at T.G.I.Fridays
PERSONALITY: Kind, Generous, loves life.
LIKES: Day dreaming, music, horses, life.
DISLIKES: Liars, good people but into bad situations.
STRENGTHS: Helping others.
WEAKNESSES: Helping others.
BIRTHMARKS: Heart shape, behind left ear.
SCARS: multiple on knees from childhood.
So, I’ve been fairly inactive. But I’m doing this thing now.
Latenight fashion on We Heart It - http://weheartit.com/entry/34364400/via/thesunnyray
One, two, three four…. Christine’s feet moved to the music in her head. Though she experienced much triumph mere nights ago with her performance, she knew she had to continue practicing her ballet. She rose to the tips of her toes, her arms following the motions, and…
“Flowers fa-" Christine stopped quickly when she heard an all too familiar voice. Stumbling back, she looked around. He had to be some where. Now that she knew he was, in fact, human, she wanted to know more. She refused to believe that that he should be so feared.
"I’m sorry." She looked down, giving up the fight to look for him. Christine felt her cheeks turn warm from the embarrassment of her actions. It was foolish to think that no one would be in here. Especially the Opera Ghost. Biting her lip, she looked up towards his box, wondering if he was there. Taking a deep breath, she looked to the box and smiled softly.
“Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying to hard to put you from my mind." She concentrated on her vocal tone and the notes as she sang up to the box, hoping to please her tutor as she sung the aria. That was the only stanza she sung however. She was eager to hear what would be said and hoped for approval.
It seems as if life has been getting in the way of those I owe. I shall get to them tonight or tomorrow. Hopefully, tonight though.
Brava. Brava. Baravissima.
Christine’s heart began to beat wildly as a familiar voice filled her head. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and took a deep breath. “Angel of music….” She breathed lightly, opening her eyes and looking up. “Your pupil is ready.”
He kept to the shadows and watched her with a slight smile. “Then sing. Sing for me.”
Christine closed her eyes, smiling as her breathing became deeper. Her air found it’s home in her diaphragm to make the most of the words. “Quand je vous aimerai? Ma foi, je ne sais pas, peut-etre jamais, peut-etre demain. Mais pas aujourd’hui, ce’est certain." She winced as she finished the first stanza of the "Habanera" from "Carmen". She knew her vowels had been wide and her vocal range wasn’t there. To her, her voice was weak. She did not continue, just waited for her teacher’s instructions.