Amélie Lacroix doesn't have a custom title currently.
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age in ##: 34
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Joined: 26-July 17
Last Seen: Jun 5 2018, 12:02 PM
Local Time: Jun 21 2018, 01:36 AM
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Feb 20 2018, 04:44 AM
What returned to the Delacroix’s house was no longer Amelie.
The brunette didn’t know the details of the process that Talon had put her through but she noticed tow things; her rationality was completely untouched since she understood the reactions of the people around her, what motivated Gerald’s actions and gestures: relief, love, tenderness yet she felt no emotion attached to such knowledge. Whenever her husband pressed a kiss to her cheek she smiled because she knew that it was the ‘logic reaction’ but the only thing that she really acknowledged was physical information: the warmth of his lips, his closeness. The ballerina was the perfect actress, in which she followed an script that she knew all too well but which stirred no emotion in her.
And one night, the curtain fell because the play was over.
Mrs Lacroix had been programmed to kill Gerald two weeks after her ‘rescue’ by Overwatch forces. It should have been an easy task, even if she had yet to be trained as an assassin, to kill a unguarded man during his sleep right? That’s what Talon had thought.
Who hesitated Amelie or Widowmaker? No one will ever know but what was a fact was that whatever remains of the ballerina were pushed back as the huntress narrowed her eyes “Talon sends their regards Lacroix” her voice was ice, her voice was steel as she spoke ready to strike. Geo
Oct 1 2017, 02:58 PM
hese past days Amelie had learned that the best way to avoid nightmares was to reduce her sleep patterns to short periods of rest whenever she was too tired to even stand on her feet thus it was no surprise that she was wandering the streets despite of being past midnight. The brunette made her way through the empty streets towards the forest, because of the cold weather most people were at home but the cold was comforting in a way, like an old friend who used to be gone.
She had been unable to feel cold as the widowmaker.
In the distance she saw that she wasn’t alone, during normal circumstances she would have left the other person to their own business; while years ago Amelie had been a social person, the sort that loves to meet new people, nowadays she preferred to be on her own but there was something particular about the sight.
There were was something else, something in the distance, and for sure it was no human. Amelie drew two hidden knives and out of instinct rushed against her creature; it was funny wasn’t it? The once an assassin trying to play hero. Elektra
Oct 1 2017, 02:32 PM
Widowmaker had truly believed that everything was over once the Overwatch agents backed her against the corner of her bedroom in Haine’s castle. A normal person would have been frightened, worried about the perspective of their life ending, they would have begged for mercy but Widowmaker merely acknowledged the end of her existence as she tried to take down as many people as she could with her. Despite of her efforts, as expected, they managed to immobilize her but the bullet never arrived.
Instead the world went black
When she woke up her surroundings were quite different, clearly the agents had brought her to one of the organization facilities but with what point? With her loyalty to Talon the spider knew that even if they spilled all her blood with torture they wouldn’t make her spill Talon’s secrets. The table against her bare shoulders didn’t feel cold (nothing had since the change) but she could tell that it was metal, like the ties around her wrists and ankles.
A doctor entered, he explained briefly the procedure and Widowmaker narrowed her eyes “Pathetic, Amelie is gone, there’s nothing you can do to bring her back” the scientist was disgustingly optimistic about his chances and the assassin merely rolled her eyes.
Little did she know that it indeed would work
They undid the physical and the mental process at the same time, an excruciating torture, even worse than when she had been turned into the widowmaker. Pleads of ending it there mixed with screams that left her throat raw as guilt mixed with pain, anger with torture.Geo
Sep 25 2017, 01:23 PM
The soft sound of heels clicking against the pavement followed Amelie as she walked through the street, the dark streets illuminated between the streetlights and the moon. The night was cold, giving her goosebumps but the alternative was to be at home and the nightmare that had woken her up with her heart pounding frenetically and her throat raw was still too fresh on her mind.
There is no rest for the wicked and neither for the people who is burdened by the past and afraid of the future. It was maddening and a selfish part of her wondered if death wouldn’t have been more merciful in a way. She chuckled bitterly, she knew that what had made them undo her brainwashing wasn’t mercy, it was practicality. Alive she was more useful than dead, alive she could be a weapon against Talon.
In the end she was only a weapon, a tool of convenience to use until it broke and she wondered if she had already reached that point.
Suddenly she looked up and time stilled to the point that she could not even feel the cold against her bare arms (she should have picked a jacket but when she had left her house Amelie had not been in conditions to think anything more elaborate than ‘I need to get out of here’). Her hands trembled and she closed her fists, this had to be a nightmare; she had killed many people and she felt guilty for every single drop of blood spilled but his death had been different. She had known him, loved him to the extent that not even Talon’s brainwashing had managed to undo her emotions completely when it came to him.
Her breath caught on her throat and she acted on instinct; it had to be a nightmare, it had to be. She rushed towards the nearest alley, leaning towards the wall, moonlight touching her face softly as she looked up, trying to calm her quick heartbeat.
It had to be a nightmare it had to be; the most beautiful nightmare ever because what she wouldn’t have given to trade places with him? To change the story so that he had killed her that night when her actions earned her Talon codename.
Sep 21 2017, 12:33 PM
Amelie Guillard was presented with many choices from a young age; she could have become a businesswoman like her father who was the owner of one of the most important enterprises in France, she could have been a scientist like her mother who coordinated the projects of the laboratories that belonged to her husband.
Instead she choose a very different path, she became a ballet dancer.
Many people asked her why she choose such life when she could have picked a promising future in the world of science or economics. Her answer was always the same, delivered with her typical charming smile “A world without science and money would die, but a world without art is not worth living for”. Amelie had always believed in the beauty of art, of emotions; ballet, painting…those fields could touch the heart in the way that money never could, or at the least that was her opinion. Life was meant to be lived at the fullest, and the only way to accomplish that was to think a little bit with the heart instead of using the brain all the time.
The path as a ballerina wasn’t easy; hard training, to experience muscle cramps that even the idea of walking hurt yet she was completely sure of that it was her calling. When she was a bit older she offered to her father a ‘business proposal’, to use part of the enterprises’ money to invest in art a proposal that Jean Guillard accepted with some reclutance. Time proved that between her knowledge about art and her inteligence Amelie was a perfect fit for the role and soon enough almost everybody in France associated the surname Guillard to art.
One of Amelie’s favorite authors was Victor Hugo, but when she was a teen she had always disagreed with one of his most famous quotes ‘Few people dare to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet this is the way that love begins, in this way only’. One night she discovered that maybe those words held more truth than what she had expected.
She never knew if what she felt for Gerald Lacroix was love at first sight, but definitively it had been close. Her first thought when she saw him was quite strange, for some reason she was intrigued by the fact that she could not pinpoint if his eyes were green or hazel. Once she realized that his eyes were meeting hers, her lips curved into a charming smile before she moved her attention again to the person next to her who chose that particular moment to start a conversation.