ZEGNA, Zephyr Behitha

[ZEPHYR BEHITHA ZEGNA]

[

[/color][[/color]ZEPHYR BEHITHA ZEGNA[/color]][/color]][/color][/font]

i know your type,[/color][/font]
boy, you're dangerous[/color][/font]
yeah you're that guy i'd be stupid to trust[/color][/font]

Is this thing on? Uhm, okay, my name is Zephyr Behitha Zegna. It's quite a mouthful but my maiden name is Zephyr Behitha Galilhai so I guess my married name is a tad bit easier to pronounce. My mother was Greek and my father was Native American, Alaskan Yupik to be exact, so that is where I received my last and middle name. My middle name means 'eagle child' and my mother gave it to me because when she first met my father, an elder had been explaining that my grandfather (from my father's side) had been reincarnated into the lone eagle that tended to always be by their tiny town of Bethel. She named me Zephyr because of the strong wind that literally knocked her off her feet and right into my father's arms. Romantic, hm? I don't think so. I think it is all coincidence. Anyway, if it wasn't obvious, I am a female and am currently twenty one years old. Everyone either calls me Mrs. Zegna and if they know me closely, which would be strange, they call me Z or Zeph. Obviously I am heterosexual, considering my husband, and I am currently a comic book artist; not that it matters considering my husband is a millionaire so I am from the Upper Class. He works under the Italian fashion house. So really, I'm just a housewife...socialite? Though I do occasionally model... But I guess in order to be a socialite, you have to be famous or well known but all I'm known for is for being wife number three to Mr. Zegna. It isn't the best reputation in the world, considering everyone thinks I'm a tad bit too much of a loner and that I have some evil secrets I'm hiding...or that I'm just trying to take my own husband's money. None of them would be correct. We are happy-get over it.[/color][/font]

but just one night[/color][/font]
couldn't be so wrong[/color][/font]
you make me wanna lose control[/color][/font]

Explaining my appearance doesn't seem necessary considering you have eyes but here goes anyway. I have blond hair, really noticeably blond, but it is dyed. My natural hair color is a very light golden brown and I simply dyed it a shade lighter. I don't dye it anymore and it seemed to just stay that way. It is long and has that sort of beach wave to it with slight loose curls at the ends. Reaching just about to my mid back, I love it to bits and wouldn't cut it for the life of me. Usually it is up in a messy bun that someone once said looked chic? I'm not the best with fashion. That's my husband's strong point. I just sort of do whatever with my hair...I don't like going to salons or anything and tend to just do it myself unless asked to otherwise. My eyes are a very bright blue outlined with a dark navy tone. They have long, thick, and dark eyelashes that make the blue tone stand out even more. Also, they seem a bit feline, which I inherited from my father's side though his eyes were brown. Other than my face, I am five feet tall with an added nine and a half inches so yes, I am really tall which I also inherited from my father since my mother apparently was only five feet five inches. Not very tall at all. Most people say I look like Candice Swanepoel but comparing people to celebrities and models is stupid. Everyone is unique-why bother comparing and contrasting? As for my weight, I don't like checking the exact number because of all those stick models I always see at my husband's office. It scares me to think one gust of wind could break those girls. However, I know I am curvy, slender, and have a sort of athletic build to me and it isn't without a price. I work out as much as possible not because I want to look good, but because I enjoy it. I don't like sitting around doing nothing all day.

For piercings, I have both of my ears pierced twice. I used to have my tongue pierced when I was fifteen, but I took it out a few months later because my best friend claimed it was a sign of mutilation and the 'white men' which was a 'sin' to the Yupik people. Those are the only piercings. As for tattoos, I have the letter 'Z' on the back part of my ear against my skull so it remains hidden behind my hair. I have no other tattoos, again because it is against the Yupik culture unless it is done by the women of that tribe and even then, they only do it to guard against infertility. I don't want tattoos on my face, kay thanks. As for scars, I have a few on my back and ribs from a couple fights I was involved in while growing up but nothing that isn't now barely noticeable or that photoshop can't take care of, if necessary, in pictures.[/color][/font]

she got away with[/color][/font]
the boys in the place[/color][/font]
treat 'em like they don't have a chance[/color][/font]

I like a lot of things, though obviously not as much as the things I dislike. I like cooking, speeding, mechanics, fixing things, drawing, painting, getting creative, dancing, running, drinking, smoking, anthropology, and exploring the city. I actually despise big parties where I am basically nothing but the pretty new toy on my husband's arm. He always tells me that isn't how other people view me btu I'm not stupid. I've heard the whispering and all that jazz and I am not a fan of it. I try to remain indifferent, but sometimes it can get to you. I also don't like soda, fruity alcoholic drinks, expensive cigarettes, animal cruelty, being asked way too many questions, being starred at, rumors, gossip, getting dragged into drama I don't belong in, sunsets, and the fact my husband isn't around all that much lately. I miss him...really.

I guess you could say I'm good at a number of things like working on cars, cooking, cleaning, and all of that stuff but I am best at drawing. I'm not a comic book artist for nothing and if I'm not famous in the New York Inner-Circle-Of-Rich-Pompous-Gossip World, I am most definitely famous in the nerdy comic world of DC, Marvel, and tons of others. I'm currently working on my very own first issue which is due soon so obviously-I'm good at that. I have bragging rights even if people don't really...care. With weaknesses, I'd say my husband is my weakness. He's just amazing, you know? He doesn't know about my past or anything, but he accepts my dark side even if he doesn't understand it. He embraces it instead of pushing it away and loves me for the good and bad sides of me and that's enough to turn my legs into jello. I'm also horrible at talking about myself and my past. I just...can't. When I talk to most people about myself, I usually do it where it doesn't seem important...so I belittle myself, I know, but I'm a work in progress. What can I say? [/color][/font]

& he got away with[/color][/font]
the girls in the place[/color][/font]
actin' like they're too hot to dance[/color][/font]

Isn't that a bad thing? The Yupik believe we should embrace our fears, harness them, and use it to battle against whatever obstacle is in our way. I normally don't share such information, or any information at all, but since I must...My biggest fear is returning to Alaska or my own past following me. When I left, I made sure there was no trail behind me. I'm a new person. I don't need such things following me for the rest of my life. I plan on someday having a family, growing old with my husband, and just being happy, you know? I want to be normal but the way I was raised, being normal is a tad bit too difficult. My only secrets lay in my past and how...horrible it was just living. I'm a strong and independent person and I was forced to be at a young age. The only person I ever had to count on was myself. Why worry about other when all they will do is step all over you? I don't tell people my business, don't gossip, I don't deal with such childish things. I worry about myself and my husband. He knows that my life in Alaska wasn't the best but that is the extent of it. My life is my own. No one else can change my own pride, patience, darkness, honor, and stubborn nature. I can be nice, mild mannered, polite, and anything anyone wants me to be but I do not care about anyone but my own. No one else really matters...especially when being accused of murdering my best friend when I was seventeen is enough of a secret to keep buried deep in the dirt.[/color][/font]

i know your type[/color][/font]
you're daddy's little girl[/color][/font]
just take a bite let me shake up your world[/color][/font]
I was told my parents met when they were in their early twenties. My mother, Helen, was Greek born and raised but moved to Brooklyn when she was in her late teens. She went to Alaska with a few other twenty-something year old's for the Iditarod Race. While in Bethel, Alaska, she met my father, Chi. He was of the Yupik tribe located there and was the son of a once great chief. He was the most well respected man and no one ever dared cross him - except my mother. Within months, the two were inseparable and when the tribe found out my mother was pregnant, they exiled her, claiming no 'white folk' could taint their spotless blood line. It was important, I learned while growing up, for them to remain within each other or with other Native Americans similar to them. They were dying out...sticking together was all they had.

My mother moved back to Brooklyn after I was born in Bethel but in the primarily white populated area. My father was forbidden to see her and fearful of an uprising, her superiors forbid her to see them as well. All in all, after my birth, my mother passed away. The elders claim she died out of isolation, as most Yupik do when they aren't integrated with their own kind. Because she was carrying me, a Yupik child, she felt my longing for my people and died from the pain. Doctors claimed she died of birth complications. Either way-she died and I never was able to meet her. By the time I was born, it had already been eight months since my mother and father last saw each other when they were only a short ride away from each other. My father died three days later, again an elder claiming it was out of heartache for no longer having the one he was destined to be with. Because of their deaths, I moved in with my aunt and her family and also because of their deaths, most people in the village believed I would be nothing but trouble with my blond hair, blue eyes, and light skin. They claimed I carried all the pain and suffering of both my parents-their souls colliding to create mine.

I grew up within the Yupik village, learning their way of life and being treated as an outsider because of my skin. I only had one best friend, Opal, and no one else. He was smart, daring, yet rude and brash, rebellious yet traditional. He wanted so badly to leave that shit place we lived in but he couldn't. He knew leaving was like a death sentence but staying was no better. We remained together through everything but I often got into fights with anyone who bothered me. I was rough, to say the least, and I was just as rude and short tempered as any other boy around me. I wore dark clothing and would always hide away; hating the world and everything with it. Eventually, Opal and I made a pact to set us both free from both of our suffering. We would kill each other so it wouldn't be suicide. Little did I know; he knew I would chicken out. When the time came, I didn't do it and he ended up putting the gun he stole from the sheriff to his temple and pulling the trigger. We had been outside on a freezing January morning and when the police found us, I ran. I kept running and running until I couldn't run anymore. I got all the money I could find or steal from pick pocketing around the town and slowly, but surely, made my way over to New York City. I had already graduated highschool and with doing a little street art, I was able to make enough money to hitchhike and such to where my mother used to live. The city that never slept.

I lived in Flushing (Queens) for a while when I first arrived. It wasn't until I was nineteen and doing some street art for extra cash did I meet my husband. He had been on a date at the time and I had gone to Times Square to snag some cash out of tourists who always loved having their pictures drawn as superheroes and all that stuff. The woman he was with was beautiful; tall, raven hair pulled back into a tight bun, feline smoldering eyes, skin as pale as the moon. She wore clothing that was ridiculously expensive and though beautiful-it was a painful beauty...like someone pulled her face back too tight. She had approached me, liking the drawings I had made previously, and asked if I could draw her husband, Mr. Zegna. I didn't know who he was. To me, he was just another guy who was about to hand me fifteen bucks. That's it.

Until my eyes met his.

They won me over. He looked so bored with his life; so uninterested in the rest of the world. It was like all he wanted to do was drag me into him and never let me go. There was a hunger there that he was trying so desperately to hide from the queen next to him that he was reluctant, at first, to have me draw his picture; but my hand was already gliding across the page. She made him sit on the overturned crate and he kept voicing his complaints. This was a waste of his time. This was nothing but foolish idiocy. He kept looking away so I reached out and grabbed his chin-forcing him to look right at me. He calmed down after that-the hunger returning and I could feel his eyes burrowing into me-a woman with little to nothing to her name, who lived off booze and cigarettes, who had marker smudged on my hands, who was nothing like the queen he called his girlfriend.

When I finished, she clapped, saying it was totally him. He was Batman, standing in that typical superhero pose on top of a building with the bat signal off in the distance. He was lean and strong, the usual over sized muscles of a comic book character. But I put the hints there-meet me at hell secretly spread out through the picture so discreetly, the queen wouldn't ever notice it. He noticed it, though, because a week later he was walking into the run down goth industrial bar in Queens toward a drunk me at the far end. From there it was secret meetings all over the city, sleepovers in my shitty closet of an apartment, clinging roughly to each other like we were all that mattered. His ex wife became a distant memory. But his parents didn't. They didn't want him with a nobody...and since he didn't want to let me go-he gave me an ultimatum: become a somebody or he would leave me.

I was reluctant at first. Why change for him? What was the point? But with the little bit of cash I had saved up, I dolled myself up, went to a modeling agency, and within two months I was splashed across Sports Illustrated and already auditioning to walk in runway shows. I was back in his life as the perfect model who was too sweet for words and would make the perfect little wife. They didn't know my life. They didn't know me. When does the media ever? I started taking art classes to better myself now that I had some money and became well known in the Comic Book world by the time I was married and became the new Mrs. Zegna. Since then, I've been playing the role of the perfect gal for the perfect man...

But my own darkness keeps coming back to haunt me. You could take the girl out of Queens but not Queens out of the girl. I know I don't belong in this strange world run by money and gossip but what can I do?

I'm stupidly in love with him.[/color][/font]

she was so shy[/color][/font]
'til i drove her wild[/color][/font]
i'll make them good girls go bad[/color][/font]

My name is Sugar and I am nineteen years old. I fund you guys through your mother's chest hair, currently have no other characters, and I have been role playing for like...a decade now? Wow...I feel old. hahaha![/color][/font]

good girls go bad[/color][/font]
good girls go bad[/color][/font]
good girls go bad, bad, bad, bad[/color][/font]

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