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Beatrice O'Conelly

"You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing"

0 · 379 views · located in Verona, Pennsylvania

a character in “All The World's A Stage”, originally authored by The Toxic Cereus, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description




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{"She was like a rose. Bold, beautiful, a little bit intoxicating.
But like a rose, she was delicate, reserved, and little bit violent
}
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{"My life is full of mistakes. They're like pebbles that make a good road}
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|{Full Name}|
Beatrice O'Conelly

|{Nickname}|
Bitty (Hates the name, but it stuck), Trixy,

|{Age}|
Twenty - 20

|{Sexuality}|
Heterosexual

|{Occupation}|
Bartender at Verona's local pub, daytime college student

|{Role}|
Beatrice || Much Ado About Nothing



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Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it
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|{Appearance}|
Beatrice had a rebellious streak in her teenage years that now has faded. Though there are some remnants left like the multiple piercings in her ears. That's the only unique marking about her that she would say, but the outside person could say differently. The faint freckles that barely contrast her bronze skin tone randomly cross her nose, making a bridge between each cheek. With makeup she's able to cover them, as she had never been fond of them. In her words, "freckles are something for young schoolgirls with pigtails, not me". She calls the same for her height (5'2), often wearing shoes with a heel to give her an extra inch or two. Her dark hair falls almost to her waist, and it flows in waves around her face. Like her dark hair, her eyes cast the same color, but a tinge of mystery, and a little mischief. A strange pseudo confidence plagues her body language and walk, leaving many to believe she is stuck up, or a total bitch. Her style tends to be rather classic and fashionable. Beatrice O'Conelly takes pride in looking good. Some would say it is to cover the insecurities she has about herself, but never would a person hear her disagree faster at such a claim.

|{Hobbies || Talents}|
โœคSpeaking | Though she is blunt in her natural state, she's able to communicate her point across in a way people understand - and with this trait, she can appeal to many as long as she has the energy to bite her tongue

โœคBar-Tending | Being a bartender, it's a natural she can mix drinks. Beatrice has found that even though she can simply mix drinks, she can mix them well.

โœคQuick Thinker | Beatrice is able to think on her toes. High pressure situations don't deter her, rather they speed her up. Thinking quickly is something that has benefited her many times in tough situations.

|{Fears || Weaknesses}|
โœคShowing Weakness | Being a strong girl has been enveloped into her at birth. Crying taboo, and being anything but independent was looked down upon. For this upbringing that shoes in the way she carries herself, she doesn't ask for help, and when things hit the fan - she deals with it on her own.

โœคPoor Immune System | Beatrice has never been a girl with the best of health. With terrible sinuses in the spring, and getting the flu annually in the winter, she doesn't expect anything else.

โœคBottles Problems | Any issue Beatrice has she faces on her own. Those problems she doesn't face, she bottles within her, bound to eventually explode. Not only does she bottle problems, but she bottles any emotions that would deem her weak.



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{"My life is full of mistakes. They're like pebbles that make a good road}
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|{Personality}|
To those who know Beatrice, she can be as simple as the air you breath. Blunt and brash. She calls things like she sees them. For many, this approach doesn't work, something about it however - can appeal to many. As a bartender she has the pleasure of hearing about people's problems. Her response always being around the general concept of "build a bridge and get over it". Just because the girl is brash doesn't mean she isn't rather friendly. To those who she considers friends ; she becomes protective of. Willing to risk it all for those she finds worth it. Jokingly, she's been called bipolar because of the other side of her. Only few select people have seen the sweeter, more vulnerable side behind the mask. The words people call her sticking. The total confidence she portrays gone, the words she told people haunting, and her feelings on her sleeve.


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|{History}|
Beatrice has had no special beginning. She was born in a typical home. Well, typical to her at least. An only child by blood, but a sibling at heart. Many days were with her best friend and cousin. Her Father, constantly away on travel - and Mother, constantly hosting parties to entertain their wealthy friends. Growing up she valued independence, as that was all she had. Material things would be given to her at a whim, but the attention of her parents was casted far away from the child. In school she achieved good grades. The lead in many plays, and member of the debate team - she was renowned in the area as being a girl of all trades. That was far from the real truth. In her teenage years she struggled with herself, the attention she had never gotten. Developing a string of self issued problems. To this day they stay with her.



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{"Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness}
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|{Theme Song}
Unwinding Cable Car by Anberlin
Emotive unstable you're like an unwinding cable car
Listening for voices, but it's the choices that make us who we are
Go your own way, even seasons have changed just burn those new leaves over
So self-absorbed you've seemed to ignore the prayers that have already come about

This is the correlation of salvation and love
(Don't drop your arms)
Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart
With quiet words I'll lead you in

La lalalala, la la la, la lala, la
La lalalala, la la la, la lala, la

Backing away from the problem of pain you never had a home
You've been misguided, you're hiding in shadows for so very long
Don't you believe that you've been deceived that you're no better than...
The hair in your eyes, it never disguised what you're really thinking of

This is the correlation of salvation and love
(Don't drop your arms)
Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart
With quiet words I'll lead you in

You're so brilliant, don't soon forget
You're so brilliant, grace marked your heart
You're so brilliant, don't soon forget
You're so brilliant, grace marked your heart
You're so brilliant (This is the correlation)
Don't soon forget (Between salvation and love, don't drop your arms)
You're so brilliant (I'll guard your heart)
Grace marked your heart (With quiet words I'll lead you in and out of the dark)

La lalalala, la la la, la lala, la
(Don't drop your arms)
La lalalala, la la la, la lala, la

This is the correlation of salvation and love (La lalalala, la la la, la lala, la)
(Don't drop your arms)
Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart (La lalalala, la la la, la lala, la)
With quiet words I'll lead you in

|{Face Claim}
Adelaide Kane
Character Dialogue || #5F506B

So begins...

Beatrice O'Conelly's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ophelia Sprout Character Portrait: Romeo Montague Character Portrait: Juliet Capulet Character Portrait: Benedict Cavillor Character Portrait: Claude King Character Portrait: Katherine Minola Character Portrait: Paris Victor Character Portrait: Irving Macbeth Character Portrait: Hamlet, Jr. Character Portrait: Beatrice O'Conelly
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โ—คโ—ฅ
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(presenting a modernization of Shakespeare's classics.)
โ—ฃโ—ข



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A perfect midsummer's day. Perhaps the most perfect midsummer's day the town of Verona had seen in ages.

Claude King sucked the thick, warm air into his nostrils and breathed it out through his mouth. The elements of the park were saccharine, but perfect for an excessively beautiful day such as this one. It stood right in the center of the bustling town, and it was almost shameful not to plan something in such a wonderful, flawless area.

So with a snap of his fingers, Claude commanded his many attendants to step forward. "Fellas," he crowed, "I think we've found our spot. It's time to start decorating."

With that, the group of men nodded, and busted into action. While most of the craftsmen got to work hanging streamers, balloons, and lanterns throughout the trees, a corpulent man named Nicholas Bottom spent his time carefully hammering a colorful sign into the park's grassy sod. It read...

~ A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S FESTIVAL ~
Come join the festivity from 6-10 pm!
Food, dancing, music, a performance by our acting trope, and a fun time for all!


With a cool glass of lemonade in his right hand, Claude readjusted his aviator sunglasses and gazed upon the soon-to-be masterpiece of the Midsummer Night's Festival - his own idea, and an event he presumed the entire town had been waiting for for months. Why such little notice for such an anticipated festival? The answer was quite simple...

Verona, quite frankly, was in chaos. Not in economic chaos, nor in chaos with another town or the state of Pennsylvania itself, but in emotional chaos. The residents these days seemed...uneasy. The morale of the people was low and terribly depressing. Why, even his own stepson, Hamlet Jr., was sulking in the shadows. What the small town needed was a gigantic pick-me-up. A simple smile in the midst of darkness. This festival would lift the mood, create new bonds, and make bold, valuable memories. It was extravagant, yes, but that was would Verona was supposed to be. After all, a little party never hurt nobody. What could go wrong?

After taking a long swig of lemonade from his glass, Claude grabbed some cards advertising the event, and began to hand them out to passersby, saying, "Come one and come all! Hope to see you there!"




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"Hello miss! Would you like-"

Before Ophelia Sprout could finish her sentence, the lady shot past her, not even grabbing the beautiful rose that the girl was holding out to her for free. Handing out flowers with tags on them to random strangers in order to promote the Midsummer Night's Festival was more work than it actually seemed. Still, Ophelia had to do it, or else her father would never let her back inside the house.

"Oh! Sir! Are you interested in-"

Just like the woman, the man scooted right past Ophelia, not even bothering to hear what her mousy voice had to utter.

She gazed down at the ground , then at the red, orange, and purple roses in her hands. This task was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. If only she had a louder voice...then maybe people would hear her.

Birds sweetly chirping in the breeze, Ophelia calculatingly glanced to her left, then to her right. Slowly and gingerly, she placed the flowers down onto the sidewalk. She looked left and right once more, and then out of nowhere, broke out into a sprint.

Immediately she felt guilty for disobeying her father's orders, but once she saw the swarm of children crowd around the puddle of flowers, her doubts disappeared. He'd never know about what she really did if she just lied, but of course, Ophelia was a terrible liar, so that would never work.

If only her father wasn't so...commanding. Perhaps if he didn't have such a big job in the town and were just like everyone else, then maybe he wouldn't be so strict and mean all the time. After all, he was always getting into things that he didn't need to be getting into...like his daughter's relationship with her boyfriend.

It was all so confusing, and she didn't want to think about it right now. She just wanted to go to the park and chill underneath her favorite willow tree. So with speedy steps, that's exactly what she did. A beautiful river nearby, Ophelia plucked a stone from the ground below, and tossed it into the murky pool. The stone skipped across the water's surface, and she closed her eyes. She wished for happiness, health, and a wonderful summer.

And then like a child, she dropped to the ground, staring up at the clouds and humming the first tune that came to mind. Today would be a good day, and she knew it.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Beatrice O'Conelly
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XXXXBแด‡แด€แด›ส€ษชแด„แด‡ O'Cแดษดษดแด‡สŸสŸส
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XXษชPแดแด… : Sun Shy
XXMแดแดแด… : Smug
XXOแดœแด›า“ษชแด›

XXXBeatrice never had a problem with festivities. The midsummer festival was every year, and in the same contingent pattern, she never went. She of course was part of the so called "after party" of the event. Being a bartender at the most popular pub in Verona, Beatrice heard all about it. It caught her interest year after year, but never did she have time to attend. Till now anyway. Work still was calling her in as they needed every helping hand they could get. That meant she didn't need to be in till the night. Which meant, she could stay for most of the festival. Days before when she heard the news she began getting schoolwork out of the way so she could have the day to herself. Early in the morning Beatrice had called cousin to see if she would attend as well. The overall message she got from the conversation was a, "maybe if there are hot guys". Typical Hero. Beatrice knew her words were a jest however. Her cousin was much different from Beatrice. Quiet, naive, more open with the world. It worried Beatrice, her cousin's behavior. It only made Beatrice more protective of the girl. Unlike Hero, Beatrice wasn't afraid to call people out, and to stand still when the world wanted to sweep her away. She wouldn't change her cousin for the world though. Their personalities always complimenting one another. It was easy to say Beatrice was much closer to Hero than any other person in her life.
XXXA slow pace was nice for the day. Walking past an empty florist stand, she made her way to the grounds in which it was being set up. Workers moved with intention, preparing the field for one of the biggest events in all of Verona. The midsummer festival was bound to be amazing. Hearing so much about it from people at the bars; she was far more excited to experience it herself. The pessimistic in her mind said she was probably glorifying the event though. They were making good progress when she felt herself move forward with a sharp push. A person behind her dropping decorations. Quickly she turned, seeing things scattered about the pavement.
"Oh my. I'm so sorry" the person spoke as they scrambled to pick up the fallen materials.
"Don't worry about it. I'm shouldn't be standing in the middle of the damn pavement half minded" she waved off, picking up a small ribbon wheel they were hanging and handing it to the girl before she was on her way. With time to kill, she kept walking till she found a pleasant path that went around the lake of the Verona. She didn't know the extent of the walk, and a little adventure would never kill a person. With that in mind she began traveling the path, her headphones back into her ear as she walked, and enjoyed what little time she wasn't busy with the chores of school and work.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ophelia Sprout Character Portrait: Romeo Montague Character Portrait: Juliet Capulet Character Portrait: Katherine Minola Character Portrait: Paris Victor Character Portrait: Hamlet, Jr. Character Portrait: Beatrice O'Conelly
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There was a familiar figure heading down the winding path in front of her. Waist-length hair, small stature, and confident walk...none other than the town's sharpest wit.

"Trixy!" Ophelia shouted, jogging over to the twenty-year-old and wrapping her long arms around her. Even if she had never talked to Beatrice, Ophelia would have greeted her the same. To the innocent girl, everyone was a friend.

She giggled and grinned, pushing tendrils of wispy brown hair behind her ears. "How are you? I'm assuming you are coming to the festival tonight, right? It's such a wonderful day out!" Perhaps Beatrice was brash and blunter than a rubber mallet when asked about her opinion on a particular subject or whenever she was forced to hear the heartbreaking backstories of he drunkards that resided at the pub. Still, she could be warm and generous, and if you really got on her good side, she was known to be a very protective friend.

Still, the town knew her for other reasons. Ophelia gazed down at the grass. There was something else that she had to ask Beatrice. Quite a touchy subject, but an important one...

"So...are you still fighting with him?" she quietly muttered, trying not to use any negative inflections. Perhaps Beatrice was quite plain-spoken, but there was only one person in the town who she truly hated. That person was the prideful Benedict Cavillor. Ever since he had come back to Verona, the two would not stop shooting harmful taunts at each other. It was like a war, only their weapons consisted of words.

While she awaited Beatrice's response and kept an attentive ear on whatever she had to say, Ophelia pulled out her purple iphone and scrolled through her list of contacts. There were a couple messages she needed to send.

The first one was for her boyfriend...

[ To: Hamlet <3 ]
[ From: Ophelia ]
{ Do you want to go to the festival tonight? Your stepdad decided that its going to be held in the park. }

The second was for her two friends...

[To: Romeo, Juliet]
[From: Ophelia]
{ Will the secret star-crossed lovers be attending the festival tonight? :) }

Finished, Ophelia looked up from her phone screen, noticing Katherine Minola, as well as the traveler man, Paris Victor, in the distance. She pointed her index finger at them, showing them to Beatrice, and smiled.

"Should we go say hello?" she asked. Of course Ophelia wouldn't be able to muster up the courage to go up to the two young adults herself. One part of her didn't want to be rude and leave Beatrice behind, while another part of her lacked the independence to do so.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ophelia Sprout Character Portrait: Benedict Cavillor Character Portrait: Beatrice O'Conelly
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_______________๏ผด๏ฝˆ๏ฝ… ๏ผณ๏ฝ๏ฝŒ๏ฝ„๏ฝ‰๏ฝ…๏ฝ’_______________
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______"ฮนฦ’ ฯƒฮทโ„“ัƒ ฯ‰ั” ฯ‰ั”ัั” ะฒัฮฑฮฝั” ั”ฮทฯƒฯ…gะฝ ั‚ฯƒ โ„“ฮนฮฝั” ั‚ะฝั” โ„“ฮนฮฝั”ั• ฯ‰ั” ั•ั‚ฯƒโ„“ั”."

_______________________โˆ‚ฮนฮฑโ„“ฯƒgฯ…ั” cฯƒโ„“ฯƒัโœง#a7a97f
_______________________ั‚ะฝฯƒฯ…gะฝั‚ cฯƒโ„“ฯƒัโœฆ #90a797
_________________________________outfit

As it turns out, military habits are not very easy to abandon. Despite the fact that there were no orders being shouted in his face, Ben arose from his bed at precisely 5:00. Not a second late. He wondered if any of the commanders knew that all their yelling and shouting was officially pointless; all the soldiers would wake on their own after a month.

Naturally, there was little to be done at five in the morning. The sun's rays were just barely touching the horizon, and for the most part, the sleepy town of Verona was still enveloped in darkness.

So Ben didn't do anything. For a good twenty minutes, he remained lying down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as he watched the blades spin round and round. After those twenty minutes, which he found to be insufferable, he decided he couldn't waste away the day lying in bed. The Ben of his youth could, this he knew with certainty, but things had changed. He had become too accustomed to being active, to being in continual motion; if not here, then over there, moving always with a purpose. He was sure his commander meant well, granting him a leave to go home for a while in honor of his recent promotion to captaincy, but he wasn't quite sure how the gift was panning out yet. He loved being home, he did, but something about it didn't feel quite right. Honestly, if he wasn't at work, he didn't know what to do with himself anymore.

With great effort, he trudged over to the kitchen area of the small cabin he was subletting and brewed himself a coffee. Then, with another bout of effort, he dragged his feet over to his suitcase, (he hadn't unpacked despite having been moved in for a month now; another example of how military habits die hard) and pulled on some jogging shorts and an old ratty t-shirt. He downed the coffee, black, with little effort. He'd be needing it. And with that, he tossed the mug in the kitchen sink, grabbed his headphones, and set out for a nice run through the woods.

By the time he returned, the sun was already high above him, and his phone told him it was very near to noon. At least now there'd be life in the town. So he decided that after a quick shower and some lunch, it'd be more than appropriate to head into the town center. Once he was out and fed, it was a good deal later than it was when he had returned, so out into the woods he ventured once more. This time, it was the path that led to town that he traveled on, arriving fairly quickly to where it was he needed to be. Indeed, the town center was alive with people heading to and fro and ducking into stores here and there and... oh? A group of people working in the park caught his eye, and he ambled over to the sign stuck in the dirt near their work area. A festival. That sounded lovely. And it wasn't as if he had very much else to do.

Further away, near the edge of the lake, something else caught his eye. Or rather, someone else. Two people, in fact, and both, he decided, were people he definitively needed to be around exactly at this moment. The taller girl, who had recently wrapped the shorter girl in a quick embrace, was pulling out her phone and tapping away messages. Benedict arrived at her side just as she was putting it away.

"Afternoon, Phelia," he shot a lazy grin in the pixie-faced girl's direction. He liked Ophelia; she was endearingly sweet. Turning to Beatrice, he nodded his head almost mockingly seriously in greeting. "Lady Disdain." He turned back to Ophelia, a sinless smile curving his lips. "Hear there's gonna be a festival in town tonight. You planning on attending?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ophelia Sprout Character Portrait: Benedict Cavillor Character Portrait: Katherine Minola Character Portrait: Beatrice O'Conelly
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XXXXXXXXXXXXษชPแดแด… : Sun Shy
XXXXXXXXXXXXMแดแดแด… : Sly
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XXXThe sun felt good. With so much time being indoors. Studying or working, she didn't have the luxury of going on nice walks like this. She forgot how much she even liked being outside. Whenever someone was to ask what Beatrice did in her free time, she'd reply with "what free time". Her supposed free time was catching up on sleep, or reading some Agatha Christie on her Kindle. Her taste in genres were typically only murder mysteries, or mysteries in general. Beatrice did however, manage to find a way to read the Harry Potter books along with Lord of the Rings.
XXXSo distracted by the blasting of her music, and the content clearing of her head - she didn't see or hear Ophelia running to meet her with a hug. The contact startled her, and she was close to elbowing whoever it was. When she saw it was Ophelia she let out a sigh of relief, patting the hands that were around her awkwardly. She took out the headphone, wrapping it around the edge of her ear before looking to her.
XXX"Ophelia, a pleasure to see you" she spoke, her tone coming out more sarcastic than originally intended. She let out a cough to clear her voice for any conversation that would occur.
XXXShe hadn't ever really talked to Ophelia. They had their run ins, but she hadn't ever had time. Ophelia wasn't the kind of girl she saw hitting the bar scene, and if she was - she had never seen her at the pub. Ophelia in her eyes, was almost too sweet for this world. So gentle, so untouched it seemed. She wished she were the same. Beatrice smiled at the girl.
XXX"I'm alright. My first real day out in awhile so I'm intent of enjoying it. I should be going to the festival tonight. Working after though" she told her as they walked.
XXX"Are you? You could meet up with Hero and I. Wait, no, you're probably going with your boyfriend?" she questioned before a question was brought her way. The question was one she didn't expect, especially from her. The relationship between her and Benedict wasn't something typical. Long ago, she was vulnerable, and that vulnerability was a mistake. She got hurt, by him. Since them she gave him a cold shoulder, and he didn't seem to care, giving her the same speech she gave him. The only was she could tolerate whatever it was they were, was that he matched her wit.
XXX"You sound like we're dating. Fighting sounds nasty. We just don't like one another is all" she explained as easily as she could. When Ophelia offered to go say hello to Katherine and Paris she nodded. "Sure. Don't know them well either. Though Paris does come into the bar every so often"
XXXAs they begun to walk towards the other party, she heard a familiar voice, and then saw a familiar figure. He greeted Ophelia like any person would, and then her nick name - Lady Disdain. She only rolled her eyes.
XXX"Disdain can live easily when it has you to keep it alive" she retorted casually, before continuing her words. "Sir Pompous, you can transform even courtesy to disdain with your presence alone. You should feel honored"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ophelia Sprout Character Portrait: Benedict Cavillor Character Portrait: Katherine Minola Character Portrait: Paris Victor Character Portrait: Beatrice O'Conelly
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Momentarily distracted by the conversation just out of earshot, Paris turned only to discover the most perfect human he'd ever set eyes on had sneaked up behind him. She was clutching one of the roses from the pile, and though she wasn't exactly frowning at the moment, he could tell she did so more often than not. Her clothes, while casual, were clearly those of someone with expensive taste, and her entire demeanor was lukewarm at best.

Paris had seen beautiful people from around the world, even more beautiful than the woman holding the rose--though to give an example would be impossible at the moment--but none he'd ever met had ever seemed so exactly his type.

Holy shit, he thought. He couldn't believe he hadn't met her yet. He'd been in Verona for over a week, and he thought he'd met everyone and their mother. Regardless, he knew immediately that she was exactly what he was looking for: rich, gorgeous, and bitter as hell.

"Hello," he greeted, sticking his hand out and giving his cockiest grin. "I'm Paris, and you are?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ophelia Sprout Character Portrait: Benedict Cavillor Character Portrait: Katherine Minola Character Portrait: Paris Victor Character Portrait: Beatrice O'Conelly
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__"ฮน ะฝฮฑโˆ‚ ฮฑ ะฝฯƒโ„“ั” ฮนฮท ะผัƒ ะฝั”ฮฑัั‚ ฮฑฮทโˆ‚ ฮน ฯ‰ฮฑั• โ„“ฯƒฯƒะบฮนฮทg ฦ’ฯƒั ฮฑ ฯฮนั”cั” ั‚ะฝฮฑั‚ ฦ’ฮนั‚."
_____________________โˆ‚ฮนฮฑโ„“ฯƒgฯ…ั” cฯƒโ„“ฯƒัโœง#6b856f
_____________________ั‚ะฝฯƒฯ…gะฝั‚ cฯƒโ„“ฯƒัโœฆ #854442
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It was always interesting to walk through the town. She could see in people's body language what they were feeling, what they were thinking, and it was all just so fascinating. She was half tempted to abandon her walk and just take a seat on the park bench for some people watching. It was a quality past-time, and though it certainly wasn't as interesting as "reality" TV, the fabrication of the shows made them boring for her to sit through. She preferred the truth in all matters of the world.

Not so far away from her location, she saw the ever-engaging Benedict Cavillor approach the resident fairy child and bartender. She had been friends with Benedict in her childhood, the smallness of Verona allowing their age difference to be negligible. She supposed they were still friendly on some level, but things now were much, much different than they were when they were children.

Ophelia, on the other hand, was someone she had never really been all too close to. She was something of a dream, too unattainable, too pure for this world, and even as a much more agreeable child, it had intimidated her. Now, as an adult, it just made her uncomfortable. Ophelia's kindness made her feel almost guilty, and she much preferred to not have to deal with those feelings. Beatrice looks annoyed at Ben's presence, and Ben's wicked grin told Kat she had every right to be. She was far from Beatrice's friend, hadn't spoken to her much really, but she did admire the girl's quick mind and blunt honesty. If Kat had anything more than acquaintances, she's sure she'd like Beatrice to be one of those friends. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the soft waxy petals of the rose in her hand.

Then, suddenly, there was a body at her side tearing her away from her thoughts. The face she found herself staring at was attractive, certainly, but there was a smugness in his smile that put her off immediately. The facade of "charming" he had placed on seemed fake, forced. Instantly, she was suspicious of his motives for approaching her. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched his mouth move, hearing his name as her eyes darted down to his now outstretched hand. There was a beat as she merely looked at his hand, an eyebrow raised. Then slowly, making sure to convey the reluctance, she reached out and grasped his hand, shaking firmly and strongly, the way her father used to tell her businessmen would respect.

"Katherine," she answered, as coldly as possible without being outright rude, "to those that have any business using my name." It was far from subtle, and she hoped her chilling introduction was enough to dissuade him from attempting any further conversation as she turned on her heel and continued on in the direction she had been going in.