Just something I came up with. If I said that Auriol was based on myself, what would be your reaction?
Auriol let her jaw drop, moved her hand towards her mouth and slowly brought her teeth down on her fingers. In this position she sat a statue for several seconds; then she removed her fingers away and noted with approval the bitemarks down her knuckles. That would punish them.
Then she tried again, her fingers forming the customary shape, and with a sharp movement, one finger slid off her thumb with a soundless motion.
Fury erupted in her inner volcano, and Auriol willed her fingers to amputate themselves, wishing that her eyes could inflict murder upon any and every thing. Her face contorted into such a grimace of ferocity that her own parents could not have recognised her through their tears of mirth.
But it was a fact of Auriol's life. She could not click her fingers, she could not roll her tongue; she could say 'an eye' in French but could not say 'right' in an Irish accent.
Auriol's real name was Aurelia, but she was only called that by a few teachers at school who didn't understand. To her classmates she was known as 'the bof' or 'the ginger' or 'anorexic', or simply 'the ginger anorexic bof'. Although in truth the offending 'gingerness' was actually called auburn, and though she was certainly one of the most intelligent people in her year, Auriol did not consider herself to be 'a bof'; also, she ate three sandwiches in public every day, so she could not possibly be anorexic however skinny she seemed to be. Her parents called her 'beautiful', but Auriol knew that was not true, despite being everlastingly proud of her 'perfect nose'. Her brother called her 'stubborn' and 'terrifying', both of which were true in some way. To herself she liked to call herself 'conscientious' and 'modest', and yet she knew it was not remotely 'modest' to call herself so, if modesty be a virtue, and only a couple of very perceptive people suddenly said, "You're actually quite lazy!" in a way that can be described as triumphant to have at last grabbed the goodies.
But Auriol did not remotely care what people called her. She did not deem it necessary to bother about. If it wasn't true, then she knew it, even if no one else did, and if they didn't accept her denial, then their loss. If it was true, then she knew it was true, thanked the gossips for reminding her of its truth, thanked God that the truth had finally come out, and it if was an obvious truth, then she congratulated the slander-setter on stating the observable.
She kept her secrets, and did not think it vital that in a friendship you tell every secret you might have, because every secret is yours to keep and cherish and use as you choose.
Auriol was not afraid to talk as if she knew best. After much thought on every subject, she decided that she had arrived at the best conclusions her poor human brain could hope to arrive to, and so if she didn't convince herself that she did know best, how was she to apply these conclusions to ordinary situations? Often she did indeed know best, however, so she did not worry unduly about her being wrong, which probably wouldn't have bothered her much anyway. She wasn't afraid to be wrong.
So that is Auriol, who is called things and does not give a fish, and who holds fast to her opinions it being the most logical thing she can do. You may make what you will out of her. Suffice to say, this is what she is, and nobody can change it.