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Sara Clarke

Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us.

0 · 387 views · located in Tresslington, Yorkshire Dales

a character in “The Village: 1914 to 1920”, as played by Calvazara

Description

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"Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us."







ImageGender: Female

Age: Nineteen years of age.

Nicknames:Sara does not really have any nicknames, her name is too short to form any monikers.

Occupation:She does not have a occupation perse, however Sara does help her father in his Doctors surgery and over the years she has learnt some basic medical knowledge.






ImageImageImageHeight: Sara stands at a slightly above average 5 feet and seven inches, she was just a little taller than her mother, the extra inches she had inherited from her father.


Build: She is a very slender woman, she had always been what you class as ‘skinny’ but this is down to an illness she had as a child, something which she never fully recovered from.

Hair Colour: Sara’s long locks are of a honey blonde, favouring more of her mother’s golden tones, although a blend of her father’s shade is present.

Eye Colour: Her hues are a mixture of a blue and grey, almost steel like.

Scars?: Nothing imposing, just a few from scrapes and bumps through her life.

Brief written description:
Sara is a relatively tall and slender woman, her build she inherited from her father and something that as a child people would often say made her look sickly. Somewhat lacking in muscle and weakened from an illness she had as a child, Sara is not all that physically strong, however her structure has made her very agile and fast. She is a rather pretty girl with an aura of sweetness and virtue that surrounds her. Her hair is a lighter shade of honey blonde, which lightens in the summer, a combination of her mother’s blonde hair and her father’s chestnut colour; it falls to the crook of her back in soft waves. Her hair frames a cream tone face, high and prominent cheek bones and large teal eyes framed with thick black lashes, making her quite the pretty sight. Sara does take pride in her appearance, but not so get's called 'vain' she keeps herself and hair clean and smelling nice, she is a little like her father and does not like dirt; she doesn't overly care for fine clothing, opting for more simpler and comfortable clothing and the only jewellery she does own belonged to her mother and even that isn't worth a lot.

Clothing preference:
Sara has quite a simple but pretty still, around the village she is often seen wearing a beige patterned full skirt with different coloured blouses. One of her favourites is a white skirt, speckled with small flowers, accompanied by a lavender coloured blouse and straw hat. When working with her father she wears a pinny over her dresses. During the colder months Sara often wears wool cardigans which had belonged to her mother; She does have a couple of nice dresses, made from fine fabrics, although she doesn't wear them often as she finds the too restricting.






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ImageSkills:
  • Unlike many girls her age Sara can read and write very well, her father always made sure she achieved a full education and when she left school, her father continued to teach her at home. She often gets asked to write or read things for her neighbours and ha even began teaching some of the older women literacy skills.
  • Sara is also quite knowledgeable about medicines, she has read nearly all of her father’s books and from working closely with him, she can reset broken bones, stitch up wounds and can quite accurately diagnose ailments.

Quirks:
  • Sara has a tendency to over think things and can dwell on something far longer than she has too.
  • She will write down the passages from her favourite books and poems and recite them until they are engraved in her memory.

Likes:
  • Spending time outside
  • Flowers
  • Reading
  • Writing letters
  • Working with her father
  • Learning new things
  • Daydreaming
  • Summer
  • Riding
  • Boiled Sweets
  • Toasting bread over the fire with her father.
  • The Thompson Boys
  • Laughter
  • Hearing stories
  • Women’s rights

Dislikes:

  • Cold weather
  • Arrogant people
  • Suffering
  • Negligence
  • Fish
  • Not knowing something
  • Cats
  • People who are stuck in the past.
  • Her stepmother

Fears:

  • War and the people she could loose from it.
  • One of Sara’s greatest fears is the possibility of being alone. She wants more than anything to get married and have children but men don’t like smart and opinionated women and she is not one to be dominated.

Written description:
Willing to give anybody a chance, Sara is a very approachable and friendly individual, however if you hurt her or someone she loves, well then it is rather difficult to regain her trust, also making her rather stubborn. Sara has always been a big adventurer, she loves the outdoors opting to spend most of her time out there, she could be gone for hours playing in the countryside that surrounded her village, this has also lead to a love of nature, that and her father's influence, she can often be found in her garden, working or just reading a book in the sunshine.

She is a rather chatty individual, but also an excellent listener often listening to those less fortunate in the village and helping them in anyway she could. This also makes her a good person to got to if you need help with anything and being the person that she is, she would help anyone without hesitation. Although chatty, she is not one who waffles on about anything, In fact that's something she cannot stand, when people talk just for the sake of having something to say.

Sara is an extremely intelligent woman; highly educated and well spoken, she has offered her services to help women in the village who wish to learn how to read an write. She is a person with a genuinely good heart, and you don't have to look hard to find it; she is willing to help out anyone who is in need, in truth there isn't a malevolent bone in her body. Sara can be a bit of an overachiever, trying to please people is a weakness of hers and creates complexities within her as she strives to live up to people's expectations. One way into Sara's life and heart is to make her laugh, she loves nothing more than to laugh and be merry "little laughter is the cause to the worlds miseries" she likes to say.





ImageRelationship Status: Single

Family:
Dr George Clarke: Sara is very close to her father and idolises him for not forcing upon her the social convensions of women in that era. She can read and write and knows a great deal more about medicine that is probably acceptable for a young woman and that's all down to her father.

History: Sara was born to Haytham and Dawn Clarke in Tresslington and has resided in the village her entire life only leaving when she visited her grandparents in London. Unfortunately she doesn't remember much of her mother, as she died when she was just a little girl, although she does remember her father grieving for a long time over her death. For a long time it was just Sara and her father, the two, who’s relationship was once a little bit strained due to his heavy work load, quickly bonded more so.

She attended the local school in the village, her father not wanting to send her away to boarding school. He filled in the gaps of her education. Like her father Sara is an avid reader, she enjoys mysteries but also factual books, she loved to read her father’s medical journals and books, that and helping her father with house visits and in his surgery she has gained quite a bit of knowledge about medicine.

Ten years ago, her father married again, the woman in question was a former maid from the Whittaker household. From the start Sara clashed with the woman, mainly over her father affections, that and it became apparent the she held very traditional values about her own sex; she didn't like Sara's modern views.




Secret Word: Village Life

So begins...

Sara Clarke's Story

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Character Portrait: Sara Clarke
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The village of Tresslington was home to a large variety of people, it wasn't a huge village and yet the diversity of it people continued to surprise people on a daily basis. You had both ends of the social classes, from the lowest, being the Thompson's, to the highest, being the Whittaker’s and the Francis’. The Clarke's were somewhere in the middle; George Clarke was a doctor from a good family and being the villages only doctor he earned a good wage, although had he been a selfish man he could have earned more, but his generous heart often left him waiting for his doctors fee or in some cases left him without it all together; this however happened to be one of the things Sara Clarke admired out about her father.


Unlike most girl children, Sara spent a lot of time under her father’s influence. Her mother died when she was merely three years old and so it was her father to raise his only child; at the time Sara had been naive to think that all girls spent as much time with her their fathers as she did, she thought all the children were taught how to read, write and do sums; it was only now that she realised just how lucky she had been to have a father as strong as George was, she only had to look at Frank Thompson to see how different her life could have been if her father had sunk into his grief. It is fair to say that Sara was raised as if she were a boy, she was highly more educated than most girls her age, she was introduced to the world of medicine from an early age and George taught her things as he would done a son who could have gone to university and taken over his father’s practise when he retired. It was a testament to her father’s character that he saw past the restraints of her gender to take the time to teach her his trade, he did not see her as a weak being, he saw potential, dedication and intelligence...Something which she would be eternally grateful for.


It was true, Sara was a highly intelligent girl of nineteen, she had her own views and savvy knowledge of many subjects and if she didn't know something then she would retreat to her father’s study and read for hours if she had too.


Sara had always been a pretty girl and had grown into an even prettier woman, she couldn't count on both hands how many times she had been told by various women in the village that she should be married by now, they hadn't failed to lecture her father on the subject, but George didn't pressure her to find a husband, yet another thing to be thankful for. It wasn't that Sara didn't want to get married and have children; on the contrary a part of her wanted nothing more to have a loving husband and to cradle her own child in her arms, what woman wouldn't? Yet a part of her wanted more, she was eager to learn and try new things, see new places...she wanted things that were possibly out of her reach, but should social conventions really stop her from reaching her goals?


It was a topic that weighed on her mind far too often. But today she pushed the thought far from her mind, today was a time for celebration, not one for misery and so Sara did not dwell. In fact a warm smile graced her features as she stood beside the refreshment table watching the Morris dancers weave their way around the may pole, a quintessential May day tradition and one that did not go past by in the Village of Tresslington, it had been a tradition for hundreds of years and it would continue to be, that much Sara was certain. May Day celebrations had always been a favourite for the young woman, the village all came together and congregated around the town square where music would play, people would dance and small stores would line the streets, it always proved to be a wonderful day.

Like every year, Sara dressed in her Sunday best, a fitted chiffon lilac blouse and a white lavender speckled skirt; she surely did make a pretty picture that spring afternoon. She quite happily stood alone that afternoon, by the refreshment stand, which she had volunteered to man for the festivities.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair
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Sara clapped as the Morris dancers jig came to an end, the small bells tied to their ankles and wrists ringing out upon the steps. She clapped along with the crowd, her lips curling into a happy smile, she had always enjoyed the morris dancers, even as a little girl it had been one of the highlight of the day for her. As a youngster she would even try and join in, but unfortunately the rhythm of dance was something which had escaped Sara, it was often said she had two left feet, but nobody could fault her spirit and willingness to try. The large crowd began to disperse, each person setting off to enjoy the remainder of the day, whether it be drinking in the pub-like she suspected most men would be doing-or simply milling around the village green, watching and participating in the various activities taking place on that day. Sara, herself was rather looking forward to watching the cricket match this afternoon, but right now her attentions turned back to the stall.

“Good Morning Sara, dear” An elderly woman’s voice caused the young Clarke girl to look, a smile ever bright upon her pretty face, “Good morning Mrs Pope, how are you fairing today?” Sara greeted in a friendly manner. “I do hope Mr Pope is recovering from his fall, me and papa have been most worried about him.

The Popes had been living in the village their entire lives; they surpassed the Clarkes and most of the other inhabitants of Tresslington. It was quite a romantic story actually; they had been friends since infancy and fallen in love as youngsters, only to marry at sixteen. Unfortunately children had not come to them and so as they grew older their wellbeing was left in the hands of the other, and now at eighty-two years old, it would seem that Mrs Pope had the burdens of an elderly and disabled husband to care for, along with her own ailments. Perhaps burden was not the correct word, for Sara saw no resentment within the woman’s eyes, only adoration for her husband, but she did feel sorry for her. Hence why she took it upon herself to help the woman when she could and visited regularly and it was acts of kindness such as this which truly defined Sara, The Popes had been much like surrogate grandparents for the young woman, all throughout her life and even more so after the death of her mother. “He is doing much better love, thank you and that pie you made cheered him up a great deal. Is your father coming down today? I wanted to find him and thank him.”

“I’m honestly not sure, he had gone on a call before I left the house this morning.” Sara explained as Mrs Pope sighed heavily, “Your papa works to hard” she stated bluntly, causing a slight smirk to appear on Sara’s countenance, it was true; George Clarke did work too hard. “Well, please be sure to tell him that when you see him, he does not listen to me when I try and tell him.”

Mrs Pope offered a small laugh, before placing an affectionate kiss upon Sara’s cheek, “well I’ll let you get back to your stall, come visit us soon, we would love to hear you read one of those stories you have, they do cheer us both up.” Sara smiled warmly, truly grateful for the woman’s affection, “of course I will.” With finally goodbyes, Sara watched the elderly woman go with a small smile, only to be broken when a voice sounded from behind her.

"Come on, now Sara. It's a festival, and you're still working? You know one day you're going to work that pretty face to death." With a playful roll of her eyes, Sara turned sharply on her heels as she shook her head of honey blonde curls, “Mr Alistair, that is very hypocritical of you don’t you agree?” she scolded playfully before laughing, “Besides…” she began, reaching out to catch the apple, “It’s volunteering, not working and I promised Mrs Lyons and I am not someone to break my promises.”

Less than a few seconds later, Grace Whittaker approached, adding her own voice to the pot and again Sara rolled her eyes, “oh don’t you start aswell.” She shook her head for a moment, before looking between the two, “where are my manners! Morgan this is Grace Whittaker, Grace this is Morgan Alistair.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair
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Henry Whittaker

As many of the towns people have started to enjoy the cerebration of the May Day festivities, Henry Whittaker was busy at work at the small little newspaper company. This is usually how it goes every May Day. Henry will work late in order to be ready for the next day and end up being even the slightest bit late anyways. Not only does he have to put out all the newspapers, but he also have to go around and do mini-reports on the festivities.

Grabbing a few stacks of newly-printed newspapers, Henry walked out of the shop, putting the stacks in the pouch his paper-bag that he connected to the front of his bicycle. Sure, usually they'd have a young boy standing out doing the 'Extra! Extra! Read all about it!', but Henry's always been that kid, the other kids of the community working hard on the farms or at school, or merely not doing it on behalf of their fathers. Henry doesn't mind though. It gives him a chance to get out.

Riding his rusted bike down the old dirty roads, being careful not to hit anyone walking by, he nodded and waved to all he passed. He wasn't in his usually wear. He was wearing a white button up shit tucked into his trousers. He wore not tie, but a very loosely done bow-tie. The biggest thing that was missing from his wear was his hat, revealing his dirty blonde hair combed back. He was obviously in his working garb.

As he road his bike, he stopped and gave a paper to a few men who paid a nickle. As he road, he saw Vera Ruene sitting at a bench, he flashed her a smile and almost crashed into a guy on the road, but quickly steered away, then he saw his sister over by Sara Clarke, who was obviously working a stand. So, Henry thought that might as well be a good place to have the papers, considering it's Sara. He steered his bike over, coming to a stop over to the side and propping it against the wall. He took out a small stack of newspapers and sat them over on the table. "Hello Sara, Morgan, Grace." He said as he gave a quick nod to the each of them. "How's the day doing you all?" He asked, putting his hands in his pockets. "Oh, forgive me, would any of you like a paper?" He added, picking up a few papers to hand whoever wants one.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair
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Sara watched the scene between Morgan and Grace with intrigue, her blonde head tilted ever so slightly as she bit down into the apple, savouring the sweet taste. She caught Morgan’s wince immediately, it was common knowledge that the Village smith was more of an introvert, he didn’t have many friends, but then again not many people gave him a chance, however this wasn’t his usual awkwardness at meeting a new person, this was something different. "Half of my work is of the nature of volunteer work, and it may still kill me one day. You really should loosen up one day, Sar." Sara nodded along to his words, matching his lop sided grin with her own, she suddenly felt a little guilty at scolding his words. It was true, too many people around here were too quick to use Morgan’s services, but very few actually paid him for his time and that was just deplorable to the young woman.

“I am loose enough, thank you very much,” Sara grinned retorting to his words, “I like working this store anyway, it gives me a chance to see everyone.” she admitted with a quick shrug before taking another bite of the apple. With her attention still fixed upon Morgan, she continued to notice the subtleties of change within his demeanour the longer he stood within Graces presence, the way his eyes would flicker towards her friend and the way he would shift uncomfortably in his position, it was definitely intriguing.

"Hello Sara, Morgan, Grace...How's the day doing you all?" Lulled from her curiosity, Sara turned to face Grace’s brother, Henry with a warm and welcoming smile. “Hello Henry” she greeted cheerfully, “oh yes please, papa and I always enjoys reading your newspaper”. Reaching out she took one of the freshly printed broadsheets from his arms and ran her blue hues over the front page, taking a mental note of the articles she would read later on. Placing it down upon the table, Sara turned back to her friends, laughing as Grace enquired about her other brother Jasper, she agreed with the latter, he was probably off chasing some poor girl around.

“Would any of you like some cake?” Sara asked, looking between the trio gathered before her, “It’s Victoria Sponge and I made it myself.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Will Thompson Character Portrait: Fred Thompson
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#, as written by RjWaltz
William Thompson


High above the festivities, soft breathing echoed from the top of a tree. Some neighborhood children surrounded the tree, tossing little pebbles up at its branches. They whispered excitedly, giggling and throwing pebbles at the tree. Then, just when they least expected it, the young man in the tree poked his head out, roaring at them while hanging upside-down. The children screamed and ran off, leaving him laughing hysterically.
Will grabbed the thickest branch below him, flipping upright as he unhooked his legs, and landed on the ground. The branch smeared with black dust from his hand. He glanced around, yawning, at the festivities occurring around him. He scratched his head, streaking black through his hair as he walked around. Soon enough, his eyes fell upon a group of people gathering around a refreshment stand. Will's heart leaped up into his throat.

The winter had been harsh, but not in the normal way he experienced before. She was laying in bed, delirious with fever. His father told him that she had something to tell him, but Will couldn't hear it. He wouldn't. This wasn't something he ever wanted to experience.
"Billy goat, is that you? I can't see you. Are you there?" her voice was frail, weak. Will stepped forward, kneeling next to her bed.
"Yes, mother, I'm here," he could barely speak, his words choking down tears.
She smiled wearily, "Billy goat, I need you to do something for me."
He shook his head, "No, please." Tears ran down his cheeks.
"Please, take care of him for me," she breathed. His mother fell into unconsciousness. The room blurred around Will. He could feel himself being moved by the rough hands of his father. A kind of numbness filled his body, and he backed into the corner of the room. His father looked over at him. Will could feel himself moving, his feet carrying him away. Away from the house. Away from the farm.


Will's hands began to shake. His face burned red, and he averted his gaze from Sara. He struggled to catch his breath, and leaned against the side of a tree, willing himself to stop shaking. a few villagers approached him, making sure he was well. He dismissed them, mumbling about getting up to fast. As he sat down at the tree, his gaze turned back to Sara.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Rose Francis Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair
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Rose walked down the streets, stopping here and there at booths and making friendly conversation with people. Some only gave her a look and turned on their heels. Some people would never get over themselves and the fact that Rose had every right to be running her late husbands house. He had left everything to her thus giving her the right. Thankfully since her brother moved in the talk had slowed some, but there were still those few who would never get over it. This made Rose sigh as she walked away from some women she tried to make conversation with, but had turned and ignored her.

She stopped at one booth and bought herself some chocolates. She thank the woman kindly as she paid for it and walked away, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Soon she came across some dancers. She stood there watching for awhile, a small smile on her face as she enjoyed the scene. She loved watching people dance, it was so graceful. She wished she could have that grace, but she knew she was too clumsy. She'd end up tripping and falling on someone, probably injuring them in the process.

As the dancers finished up she clapped and slowly started walking again. She saw a small group gathering around a refreshments stand being run by Sara, a girl she enjoyed talking too. She was about to make her way over that direction when she heard two women whispering stuff about her. She whirled around to look at both of them. "Why worry about the rumors revolving around me when the rumors about you having an affair are going around? Rumors, might I add, are apparently true because you went to see him this morning. I can tell because your wedding ring is missing." She spat at the woman who was the one whispering quite loudly so that everyone around would hear. The look of shock and horror was plastered all over the woman's face. Rose spun around angrily from the women and stormed off towards the refreshment stand.

As she walked up she heard Henry ask the group if they'd like a paper. "Oh may I please have one of those Mr.Whittaker?" She asked politely with a friendly smile. She then looked at the rest of the group with the same smile. "Good morning everyone." She said sweetly, her eyes landing on Morgan before she quickly looked to the ground. She didn't have a problem with him, but she remembered her late husband did. He always treated him poorly and spoke badly of him which made Rose wonder what had happened. Her husband was always kind to everyone, but Morgan was practically the worst person ever to him. She wondered if her husband had once tried to get him to come home with him like he did so many other men, but he refused him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: George Clarke
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George Clarke was obviously not in the midst of the festivities like his daughter. This came as no surprise to any of the villagers, in fact, for they all knew the doctor took his work more seriously than, well, everything except his daughter. He would probably starve to death or catch a cold before he refused a patient. Even George admitted there was truth in the statement. He wasn't one to deny his services, even when the patient was unable to pay him back.

On May Day, he was at the home of a farmer, his wife, and his young children. They were a sweet couple, Mr. and Mrs. Wood, and everyone knew them. But, come harvest, they always managed to just make it. Most villagers truly believed each coming harvest would be their last. How long could a family like that survive. According to the eldest boy, who had come racing to George's office, the patriarch of the family had stepped in a badger's hole that morning, twisted his left ankle, and was unable to walk. With medical bag in hand, Dr. Clarke followed the boy closely with a brisk pace.

At the home now, he wrapped the foot tightly, which caused Mr. Wood to gasp in pain. George's gaze averted from the foot temporarily to look up at the usually loud, boisterous young man. "Here," he held out his free hand, which caused the injured man to look back in confusion. "Squeeze it when the pain becomes unbearable." Mr. Wood nodded at the explanation and grabbed George's hand, already crushing it into oblivion before the doctor had begun to wrap the foot again. Finally, he wrenched his hand free and fastened the fabric so it would stay in place. Hand throbbing horribly, he stood and brushed his trousers off.

"You did quite a number on it, I tell you," he joked, clapping the man on the shoulder softly as he walked toward his bag. "I don't believe I've seen a sprain that bad since...well, I can't recall seeing a sprain that bad. I'd suggest filling those badger holes- if your plow horse steps in one, I can assure you it won't be pretty."

"Aye, Doc," Mr. Wood explained, shifting his position slightly so he could face George, to which the doctor quickly raced back and shifted the man into the position he was before.

"No moving, sir," he scolded, sitting down on a couch across from him. "Rest it, keep ice to it, compress it, and elevate it, you hear?" He counted off on his fingers, giving the list to him of what to do. "And if you do any work before it heals up, your wife better tell me." The last part he said a bit louder so that Mrs. Wood heard from the kitchen. She gave a quick, "yes, Doctor", in response. Satisfied, George stood and finished packing his bags.

"How much do I owe ya, Dr. Clarke?" the incapacitated man asked, trying to shift again. He stopped when George looked back, though.

"Nothing," George said simply, lifting the bag as he moved toward the door. "You take care of yourself, that's all." He opened the door, but stopped when he heard Mrs. Wood exclaiming and hurrying toward him.

"Doc, ya can't just leave without payment," she said, trying to scrape together money in the palm of her hand. "W-we could get ya the money in a week's time, I swear!" He shook his head and stepped back on to the pathway.

"Good day, Mrs. Wood," he said, avoiding her words. As he walked briskly down the path, she hurried along, offering him a share of their profit that harvest, or a pie, or even just a few vegetables. Again, he called out "good day, Mrs. Wood!" and continued on his way toward the market where, perhaps, he'd be able to run by him daughter. She'd grow angry if he didn't attend today. He was certain of it. Most of the villagers had probably assumed he wouldn't show his face and, instead, would stay at his office all day.

Entering the town square, a few passerby offered a smile to him. George continued to wander sort of aimlessly between stalls in the crowded town until, by some miracle, he managed to find himself by Sara's stand. “Would any of you like some cake? It’s Victoria Sponge and I made it myself.” The voice was easily recognized by George. He'd raised his daughter years by himself and had listened to that voice grow and mature, from saying her first word to reciting passages out of books.

"Do you have a piece to spare for an old man?" he teased. George certainly was not old by many of the villagers standards. At forty years old, he was actually quite young. Yet, among Sara's group of friends, he was considerably older. Turning his attention to the two Whittaker siblings, he smiled and gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. "Mr. Whittaker, Miss Whittaker, how are you two today?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: William Gibson Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: George Clarke
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#, as written by Akiyo
With his chores finally done Nathaniel washed in the house and put on his favorite outfit that made him look more like a gentleman than a farmer. Henry had done the same as ordered by Audrey who had prepared her brothers clothes as per instructions by their mother. When Will and Margaret returned home their children were ready. The whole family, not in their nicest, but certainly dress casual, left together for the festivities at the town square.

"Any problems with the crop?"

"No sir." Nathaniel answered to his father who walked with barely a limp.

Margaret, arm tangled with William's, listened quietly to William and Nathaniel discuss the day's work. Henry and Audrey both did the same and trailed a little further behind Nathaniel.

"Any orders I need to make for feed?"

"The chickens will last another two weeks, but the cows are done with the hay. Jake isn't eating much, he might be sick."

"No, he's just tired. I pushed him hard yesterday on the back acres."

"What if he doesn't eat tomorrow?"

"He'll eat." William said as any worry for his only horse had set at the back of his mind. Jake had shown similar behavior in the past.

The Gibson family soon joined the crowd and dispersed, save Henry who had to stay with Audrey after he had been caught tryin to steal food with some friends of his. Nathaniel moved through the crowd, looking for friends of his. William and Margaret made their way through the market, sampling and purchasing what caught their interest. All the time maintaining their spending limit for the festival. When they saw Doctor Clarke they waited for him to finish talking at a distance that wouldn't impose on his conversation.

When he was finished they would approach and say, "how are you doctor Clarke? We just arrived moments ago."

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Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Will Thompson
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#, as written by RjWaltz
William Thompson


As Will sat down at the base of the tree, one of the kids he spooked earlier walked up to him, carrying an apple in each hand. The lad tossed him one, and then he sat down on the tree's exposed root.
"Will," he asked, "What are you doing over here? Aren't those your friends?"
Will bit into the apple, "It's complicated."
The boy chuckled, "You sound like a brooding loon. Why don't you go and chat with her?"
He sighed, "Right. You mean walk right on up to her and talk about the dead rat I found, right?"
"W-what?! How'd you know that?" The boy's face reddened.
Will cracked a smile, "Oh, come off it. I'm sure the entire village won't remember a thing in a year or two."
He shoved Will as hard as he could, which did little but knock the apple out of his hand. Will turned around, menace in his eyes. The kid ran off as fast as he could manage, with Will hot on his tail. Soon, the other neighborhood kids joined in, all running after Will. Soon, Will realized he was no match for them, and they tackled him to the ground. The kids tickled him as furiously as they could before he could manage to retaliate.

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Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: William Gibson Character Portrait: Will Thompson
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#, as written by Akiyo
Nathaniel Gibson saw Will tackled by the children and watched Henry his little brother join the child mob. He jokingly let Will suffer by walking instead of running to him. When he got to Will he pushed the kids off him and quickly reached his hand out to help him up.

"Thought you could use some help." He said.

Henry jumped on Nathaniel's back and shouted, "he's got reinforcements!"