Profile/Application

Character Information
Name: Angelina Durless / Madam Red
Source Canon: Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, a manga and anime- I am taking her from the manga.
Age: Her age is never fully stated, but she was a apprentice nurse when Ciel was born, and twelve years later puts her in her mid to late twenties.
Role In Canon: A beloved aunt, a doctor, and one half of Jack the Ripper.

NOTE!:
A chunk of this application is from Angelina's old app at rivelata. Though the game is now dead, I played Angelina there for over a year, and got permission to use bits and pieces of her app there here. Still, parts have been spruced or rewritten, too!

History:
Angelina Durless was born into the prestigious Durless family, the younger sister to Rachel Durless. With dainty little fingers and darling little toes, and hair as red as a rose. Her mother disliked the garish color, and taught her to cover it with her modest bonnets and shield it away with more somber colors. Her sister Rachel, blue-eyed and fair, was permitted to traipse about, but Angelina was painfully shy, all freckles and red hair. And one day, a man came- Earl Vincent Phantomhive, kind and gentle. He saw her when no one else would, and reached out to her. "An is so lovely," he smiled, "With hair like spider lilies."

So red gowns began to appear in Angelina's wardrobe. She perched on her tiptoes over the sink to apply red lipstick and fluttered her eyelashes. Red roses grew out her window. She cut her bangs. She began to love red. After so many visits and preening her hair, she realized she had fallen in love with Vincent. He infactuated her thoughts and filled her with passion. When she was around Earl Phantomhive, her heart fluttered and thrummed loudly in her chest. To match his intelligence, she took to her studies. Against the wishes of her parents, and of the strict Victorian society, Angelina was studying to be a doctor. A surgeon, vowing to do no harm.

However, one afternoon as she scampered to meet Vincent, she found her beloved with her sister. They smiled at her so happily. They were engaged, and Angelina's heart sank like a stone. Still, she could not deny the ones she loved. So she wore red to the wedding, amidst whispers and hushed objections.

Instead she threw herself into her studies. Blood in veins, muscles and sinews; it objectified her heart so she didn't have to think of its ache so much. Evenings not spent draped over a desk asleep were spent wrapped in the dizzying spectacle of London's parties. A beautiful, single woman of the Durless family, especially one as loud and bodacious as Angelina, attracted much attention and affection. Soon the socialites of London began to call her "Madam Red," a bright-eyed, smiling woman always clothed in the latest, most daring fashion, and who commanded her court better than the Queen herself.

Yet her happiness was best found at the side of her sister and Vincent, the man she loved. She was a young nurse when her nephew, Ciel, was born, and she took him up into her arms eagerly. Her forsaken heart twinged with pain when she saw Ciel's dainty little nose, just like his father's. On sunny afternoons, she would race from the hospital to the Phantomhive manor, to picnic with her sister's family. Ciel would climb onto her lap, his blue eyes so bright and cheeks rosy from smiles. She would press kisses into his neck and tickle his sides, read to him and play London Bridge. She could pretend as much as she liked that she was part of his family, but she never would be. She could only settle for what she was given.

A Baron spoke with her at one of her many night parties. Baron Barnett. He was kind, gentle, pure. He loved her and all that she encompassed. Angelina could only smile and stroke his cheek. She loved the Baron. She did. But he could never replace Vincent in her heart. "That's alright," He petted her hand, "As long as there's some room for me there, that would be fine by me." So there was a quiet wedding. Unusual, for the Socialite of London. But it was too late to turn away now, and to do so would be to forsake the only happiness she was allowed.

After many months, Angelina found herself expecting a child. She ran her hands over her growing womb often, filled with excitement and anticipation. This child, this child belonged to her. They would depend on her alone, and she would not be upstaged or forsaken by them for her sister, or Vincent. A girl, she hoped. Angelina filled a nursery with all of the trappings needed for a little bundle of love. The finest laces on her basinet, little toys. Everything would be perfect.

But as Angelina's life often ran, nothing was ever meant to be perfect. Linked arm and arm with her husband, they chatted about doctor's appointments and schooling, Angelina only somewhat heard the sound of hooves and wheels coming too close. The Baron clutched her tight, guarding her with his broad shoulders, but soon all was black. She awoke to red. Red of the blood in her IV, on the bandages. A doctor stood nearby her, spewing the normal routine apologies and regrets. She knew it was necessary, but she picked apart his language to find the facts. Her husband was dead. Her child was dead, and her womb removed. She could not have children. She had no husband. Everything was gone.

After several days of sleep and drugged wakefulness, Rachel rushed to her side, crushing her tight and sobbing into her hair. Though Angelina embraced her, she wondered if Rachel had come to her only to remind her of what she had lost. But she pushed those feelings aside. After all, now Rachel and her family were all Angelina had left. She couldn't afford to reject them, and lose all she loved. Just after her release from the hospital, Rachel invited Angelina to little Ciel's tenth birthday party. Reluctantly, Angelina agreed. She supposed she should be out and about, that to stay cooped inside would only make matters worse for her. The carriage lurched to a stop, pitching her forward in the seat. The smell of smoke irritated Angelina's nose, and she pushed open the bottle-glass window to speak to the cabby. Soon the answer was all too clear- the Phantomhive manor was completely engulfed in red flames, the color she so detested.

Her sister, her nephew, and the man she loved, all lost. The monotony of the hospital was comforting. The white walls and the emptiness. In the sick children she treated, she saw Ciel. And imagined that be either saving them, or watching after them as they met a peaceful death under her care, she was creating closure for herself. Angelina lived vicariously through the women who would waddle in with bellies full of child, and leave with babes in arms. Envy seeped into her as she watched husbands kiss their wives and children. "It's alright," She said, "I am a survivor, I must keep surviving." But she wasn't surviving at all.

One day a woman came to her; a lewd sort of woman with few clothes and a bored expression on her face. She announced as she came inside Dr. Barnett's office that she was expecting a child. Before Angelina could congratulate her, the woman stated her purpose of being there. To terminate the pregnancy. Horrified, Angelina refused, but the woman simply sought another doctor without her moral standards. Angelina wandered the road, eyes empty as she mulled over all that had been taken from her. Her sister, her beloved, their little child... Her own family, her only chances at happiness, all snatched from her fingers. She had nothing, and yet she carried on. And these women...

She caught a glance at the very woman who came to her slipping into an alley. A satisfied customer paid her and zipped up his trousers. Angelina's breath became hard. Hate filled every pore. This woman, who had everything she wished for, disposed of it as if it were garbage! She, who had wanted everything and had nothing, was forced to watch what she so desired be destroyed! In a blind rage, Angelina rushed at the woman and threw her against the cobblestones. Her hand found her scalpel, tucked in her doctor's bag. She tore open the delicate skin around her hips and sought the organ she had so defiled. With disturbing surgical precision, she tore out the woman's uterus, discarding it behind her as she delivered the last killing blows.

Soaked in blood and struggling to breathe, a rich, soothing chuckle arose from behind her. A silhouette clung to the church steeple above her, hair whipping in the wind. It was an embodiment of red- red hair, snapping in the wind like a flag, a red ribbon around its neck. The shadow leapt to the alleyway, shuddering with pleasure as the blood splashed its shins. It was a lithe, delicate figure with pitying, love-filled green eyes and a sharp smile filled with incisors. The creature knelt before her as one would a queen. It was delicate, clearly a man's body, but wore tall high heels that clacked as she stepped closer.

Black-gloved hands offered open arms to the woman who had been so abused by the world. She leaned into them dazedly, and the figure crushed her close, stroking her hair coated in congealed blood. It had been so long since she had been touched kindly, much less embraced. She heaved a comforted sigh.

And the dark game began. She brought home the Death God, known as Grell Sutcliff. Though Grell's body was that of a man, Grell identified as a Lady. Still, drunk on the blood Angelina spilled, Grell was willing to do anything to serve her. The Reaper disguised herself in black, hiding her beautiful red hair under black charms. Posing as her butler, she served her and waited on her hand and foot, and she bedeviled and ridiculed her. Angelina allowed her a red bow to offset the dull appearance, but she longed for her red gowns and shoes. She sliced away Angelina's sullied hair and left it cropped- a scandalous notion for a woman in the time period.

At night, they would set to the streets as they truly were; Jack the Ripper, Madam Red and Grell Sutcliff. God's Angels of Retribution, punishing women for taking their gift of life so lightly. At first Angelina's nurturing conscience got in the way, as she saw the light leave the young women's eyes. But Grell, nosing her neck and reassuring her, banished any guilt away. Together they painted the streets of Whitechapel delicious red.

Yet what she loved most about her terrible outings with Grell Sutcliff the Death God, was not the satisfaction of her vengeance, it was simply being able to walk arm and arm with someone again. To have a shoulder to press her cheek to. To have someone willing to scoop her up and shower her with reverent, adoring kisses. Grell reminded her of her sister, and of Vincent, and of the Baron, and of Ciel in some regards. Grell was bright-eyed and childlike, fair and lovely, and absolutely adored her. After a bloody excursion, she would lead her home tenderly, as one would a lost child. A bath would be drawn, filled with red rose petals and surrounded by red candles. Strawberries and sweets would be fixed for her, and she would sink into the hot water, soon to be joined by her lover. She would draw her close and wash the blood from her hair, and she would mind her long locks.

One afternoon, her little nephew, her little Ciel, was found alive! She rushed to the nearby manor, arms outstretched for the little boy she remembered- the one thing she was allowed to have back. But Ciel was no longer Ciel. The child that had returned was an empty shell with an impeccably dressed butler at the ready, smiling knowingly at his master. She was at Ciel's side as much as she was allowed, but the boy worked independently of her and acted as if her very presence was a smudge in his life. Still she persevered and was careful to monitor his schooling and health. Yet, that same duty had been overtaken by Ciel's new, handsome butler.

Her anger was unleashed on the unsuspecting women she targeted. Grell seemed pleased with her lack of hesitancy as of late. However, as the Earl Phantomhive, Ciel was bound by the Royal family to purge the underground of any threat to the crown. When the Queen set her sights on Jack the Ripper, Angelina began to panic. So they evaded the Queen, setting Ciel on the path to discover an unfortunate Viscount as the real Jack the Ripper. She wove an elaborate plan to find the man out- after all, he had curious, dark hobbies such as abducting children to sell on the black market, and Ciel was darling still, even in the state he was in. Placing Ciel in a dress and setting him loose in the ball, The Madam instructed Grell to pick away another victim- their last, she promised herself. For after the Viscount was caught, their game had to end.

The Duke was arrested, and Angelina could shut Jack the Ripper away. But her anger still surged inside, and Grell's encouragement fostered another murder. Outraged that he had not caught the Ripper, Ciel demanded his curiously talented butler to investigate further. Desperate that they would be discovered, Angelina begged Ciel, as his aunt, to cease these investigations. After all, he was twelve, and he should be doing what twelve-year old boys do. Giving flowers to girls he likes or playing with the very toys the Phantomhive company produced. Ciel knocked his hand away, determined to do his grim duty as the Queen’s guard dog.

So it was not long until Ciel cornered their latest victim in an alley. Grell emerged from the bloody cellar first, still a portrait of the bumbling butler he presented. He stammered that he was only trying to help, that he had nothing to do with the murders. But the black butler, Sebastian, exposed him for his true identity. With nothing left to hide, Angelina Durless, no, only Madam Red, stepped from the cellar still clutching her scalpel. She had nothing to lose now, when she had already lost her everything.

Personality:
Angelina is studious, gentle, and adoring of children and in general, those around her. She is dedicated to her work with women and children, and utterly adored by her patients. She is intelligent and enjoys hearty, exercising discussion. Angelina is warm and loving, and adores her family over anything else. Madam Red, on the other hand, is a boisterous woman whose laughs bounce off of ballrooms and parlors. She is witty, wry and debauched, all with a thick veneer of good breeding. Wielder of all social graces, Madam Red is the darling of London’s society and adored for her daring rejection of women’s limitations in the time period. With all of the confidence she exudes as Madam Red, once cracked open, Angelina is very vulnerable. She played second chair to her sister ever since she was born. Where she was not as beautiful or enchanting as her sister Rachel, she made up for in studying and intelligence. As much as she loved her sister, she dealt with a great deal of jealousy and envy. In an effort to protect the ones she loved, she bottled away her feelings and grew to accept that she did not have the right to express them. Anything that Angelina has wished for has been taken from her. Her love, her sister, her husband, her child, her nephew, all have been lost to her. Losing Ciel was especially painful for her, since she lost him twice.

Inside the Gardens, She would be relieved to be free of the pain saddled in London’s memories, and have a chance to be Angelina Durless, and Madam Red, anew. She would be intrigued by the court drama with the Queen, and would want to help as much as she could, offering her medical knowledge.

Grell is already present in the Gardens. She is fond of her as her butler, and her companion. Grell made an exception for her- the only woman she'd ever loved. They are a passionate, naughty pair, fabulous and gregarious. However, under the red varnish, Grell serves as a trigger or conduit to awaken Angelina’s darker side. She brings out violent bloodlust in Angelina, spurning her to spill the blood of anyone she deems unworthy of life. Angelina is generally patient and indulgent, but women debasing themselves and taking their gift of bearing children for granted is the one thing that can set her off. If left to her own devices, Angelina will continue her friendly, personable self. But should there be anything to trigger her murderous intent, she would not hesitate to kill again.

Abilities:
Angelina is a humble human female, completely, deliciously mortal and flawed. She does, however, possess keen senses, and knows how to slip between rooms and places without being noticed. It should be noted this isn’t a supernatural ability by any means, it’s simply that Angelina has excellent perceptiveness and knows human nature very well. She is a skilled doctor and surgeon, and in particular a gynecologist. She is trained to handle women and pregnancies, and so should there be a medical emergency, Angelina could offer a hand.

As an intelligent socialite, she also has a very good handle on how to be manipulative and turn social situations in her favor using feminine wiles and gossip. It is entirely possible that she could worm her way into parties or social circles with a little wriggling. She’s enchanting and infectious, so it’s rather hard to resist her charm.

Sample:
I played Angelina for over a year at the now-dead rivelata. Here's a selection of her entries.
One
Two
Three

And, a fresh one for you!

[Written in Angelina's characteristic, delicate period hand, with flourishes in red ink.]
My Darlings,
Do take care that the roses and other flora have thorns. I've plucked many this week and do not wish for you to suffer a similar fate, dears! I'm not entirely sure if one can contract an infection in the Gardens, but it always pays to be cautious! The animals may also be a bit aggressively playful, so mind your fingers!

As much as I find this Arcadian wonderland soothing, I do miss a good soiree from time to time. The gowns, the dancing! Why, I'll trade my frock for a suit if the ladies are shy. Come now! Surely paradise has parties, too.