<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/a/ac/Marguerite_Tuerny_15.jpg/800px-Marguerite_Tuerny_15.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: giddyup std;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;">Marguerite Marie Henri Dieudonné d'Artois Tuerny </span></span><br/>-<strong>AKA</strong>Rita Tuerny, Marguerite Landry<br/><br/><strong>Player Name:</strong>Yesiroleplay<br/><br/><strong>Ethnicity:</strong>Caucasian (French/Scottish)<br/><br/><strong>Sex:</strong>Yes please!<br/><br/><strong>Gender:</strong>Female<br/><br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong>In any gathering of beautiful women, be it a the fall cotillion highlighting the Richmond social season, or the lounge of the finest whorehouse west of St Louis, in any such gathering of beautiful women, one woman is always the most beautiful.  In her short life, Marguerite Tuerny had always been that woman.  Hair as dark as a raven's wing frames pale features unmarred by blemish or awkward form.  Supple lips curve in arcs perfect enough to satisfy an artistic master, though no artist could truly capture their mobile expressive form.  Her nose, well, it was a nose, with nothing about it to call attention away from her eyes.  And her eyes!  Were they brown, or green?  Or blue-green or gray-blue?  Hazel, might be an apt and vague enough word to describe their color - which seemed to change with her wardrobe and with her mood.  They were startling eyes, clear and eloquent and demanding.  There were few that could look into those eyes and look away.  At least not without looking back again, and yet again.<br/><br/>It was a face to challenge the beauty of the gods, and it sat atop a regally slender neck which flowed down into equally regal shoulders.  Her womanly form was perhaps just short of voluptuous, or then perhaps not.  There was no curve in her form that failed to accentuate and please.  Even the back of her head might draw eyes from across a room.  Shoulders and hips and bosum swelled and flowed and silently screamed for male attention when she but stood and talked. And when she moved, it was with grace and poise and her curves flowed in ways that inspired both nobility and madness.<br/><br/>In short Marguette, in the parlance of the Wierd West, is purty.<br/><br/>Standing at nearly five-foot-eight-inches, she's a tall girl, but she carries the height well.  You never ask a lady her weight, but she can't weigh much over one-thirty despite all them curves.<br/><br/><strong>Age:</strong>Just shy of 20.<br/><br/><strong>Sexual Orientation:</strong>Considers herself hetro, but...<br/><br/><strong>Ons &amp; Offs:</strong>Here. (http://elliquiy.com/forums/onsoffs.php?u=22051)<br/><br/><strong>Citizenship:</strong>Recently arrived in Gomorrah, her assets other than the obvious are unknown.<br/><br/><strong>Public Knowledge:</strong>Marguerite is a purty girl with a soothing voice.  She has expensive tastes and a high-Falutin' manner.  Unkind souls gossip that despite her airs, she'll spread her legs for anything in pants.  New not only to Gomorrah, but to the West, she's a bit of a tinhorn.