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Miss Charlotte Whittaker

America will be different, perhaps I can be different too.

0 · 648 views · located in Titanic Ship

a character in “April 1912”, as played by Sirius Baren

Description

Miss Charlotte Whittaker
XXX I was told once that daydreams are for the foolish and the desperate. If only they had a chance to peak into my mind, than they would surely know that I am no fool. XXX
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FULL NAME
"My name? You want to know my name? I thought that it would be obvious."
Miss Charlotte Constance Whittaker


ALIAS
"He always said I'd always be his Little Lottie."
Lottie


BIRTH DATE
"Never ask a woman her age, it is very impolite."
June 21, 1888


ORIGIN
"My father fell in love with a gold digger."
British 50 %, German 50 %


ECONOMIC CLASS
"You cannot spite me for a life I was born into."
First

OCCUPATION
"I haven't had to lift my finger or work a day in my life; you may find that tragic."
Heiress


MARTIAL STATUS
"There's always been a suitor at my door, but they've been too droll, or too interested in my money rather than me."
Currently unattached

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Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall
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APPEARANCE
The first word that is used to describe Charlotte would be elegance, and the second would be graceful. She has a sweet doe eyed appearance that has ensnared the hearts of many bachelors. Her skin is flawless which is both a surprise and the envy of many London socialites as she spends a great deal of time out of doors. She has supple lips that are a coral pink. Many women in the high society of London have envied her seemingly perfect beauty. She has set many trends within the London society, her most recent being the way she wears her hair. The color of her hair is somewhere trapped between the color of corn silk and honey.

If ever there was something average about her, it would be her height. She is not particularly tall, nor is she particularly short. She does favor higher shoes and it has led to many people believing she is taller than she is. Many times she has been caught with a far away look in her eyes that could even be considered aloof. This wistful expression has pulled in many men as they assume she is sad or something is on her mind. Charlotte cannot help this and is always surprised by the antics of men when they try to cheer her up or take her mind off of her troubles, when in fact she is usually quite at peace with herself.

Charlotte has rarely ever bothered with makeup. She has never thought of herself as a particular beauty and does not see the merit in wasting money unnecessarily on beauty products when she already catches the eyes of the men within London--which she believes is solely based upon her fortune.

As a fashion icon in the society, she usually wears clothes of more modest make and only saves her finer apparel for special occasions or functions she is required to attend. The most jewelry she ever wears is a single strand of small and delicate pearls that her father gave to her on her sixteenth birthday. She has never reflected her wealth through her clothing choice which has brought a refreshing look to the London women.

Though Charlotte does have a love for fanciful--sometimes absurd--hats.

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Aptitudes and Oddities
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LIKES
Charlotte has always been a dreamer. She loves books and being swept away to other lands and adventures. She loves that when she reads books she can break free from the tight restraints of her social class and expand her mind. She reads everything from Charles Dickens, to Jane Austen, and to Charles Darwin.

Because of her love of books, she also is a lover of quiet and the peace that comes from the early morning or at twilight. She loves to take walks by herself.

Charlotte has had a passionate affair with insane and outrageous hats since she was a young adolescent. For her, it was the only way she felt she could rebel against the standards and expectations set up for her by her mother and the high society. Many of her hat choices have taken hold in the London society which she finds quite amusing.

Since her father bred horses as a hobby, Charlotte had the chance to grow up around them and has been in love with the animals her whole life. She loves riding and the exhilaration of feeling free with the wind at her face and dust in her wake.

Her father; Charlotte has always been a daddy's girl. It didn't matter how busy he was, her father has always made time for her and made her feel loved and wanted. Her most favorite part about her father was when he would bring her books back from his trips. He always knew what she would love best and every book he's given her has landed on her list of favorites.

Charlotte has a particular affinity for fanciful and usually impractical hats.

DISLIKES
Tea; quite ironic. It's always bitter in her mouth and she hates the socializing parties where she is forced to sit and sip on it. She will avoid drinking tea at all costs.

Large crowds make her uncomfortable. Her mother loved to drop her into huge social gathering and it always made her feel like she was being paraded around for the highest bidder.

Her mother. The woman has always thirsted for money, power, and position. When Charlotte was born, the young girl became a new tool in Sylvia's belt to further her own selfish whims.

Being lied to and/or manipulated.

TALENTS
Charlotte is an excellent rider--as a young girl she used to fancy putting on a disguise and racing her beloved stallion Goliath.

Since she is a well bred and well mannered woman, she is also an accomplished dancer and knows several forms and variations on all of the socially acceptable dances.

WEAKNESSES
Charlotte is a bit gullible and quick to believe in people who have more to say than mentioning wealth or status.

She is desperate to believe in love. She aches to find a man that will love her, and she will love in return, the same way that her father has always felt for her mother. She's terrified to be strapped to someone just like her mother.

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Temperaments
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PERSONALITY
Charlotte sometimes comes off as distant and aloof. Many of the people that her father knows view her as a ditz, or a bit of an airhead. Charlotte is quiet and knows the role she is supposed to play. She is not to have opinions, she is not to be loud, or crass; Charlotte must be submissive, quiet, and demur. Because Charlotte is the heiress to a very grand fortune she understands that she is not supposed to mix with those below her. Her mother told Charlotte over and over growing up that those beneath Charlotte are not worthy of her time or effort. Charlotte has perfected her skills of indifference to those around her even though she wishes deep down to be able to hold a normal conversation with them.

Charlotte has perfected her outer persona. While her mind spins with the thousand questions, and her thirst for knowledge insatiable, no one would ever expect the Whittaker Heiress to be more than a trend setting socialite. Charlotte knows that it is distasteful and laughable for a woman to be smart and well informed. This causes her to be quiet in most settings, though she has a constant internal dialogue with herself and generally carries on whole conversations in her head in an attempt to prevent boredom from setting in when she is at parties.

As a dreamer, Charlotte has craved adventure or a grand romantic tale her entire life. As a dutiful and obedient daughter she would never openly go against or defy her parents wishes to seek either of those things out. It is why Charlotte reads so much. She feels stifled and restrained within her social class. The women are caddy and pretend to be your friend only to whisper behind your back--and there is a great deal of whispering as they are jealous of Charlotte. The men treat her as if she is a prize or trophy to won as Charlotte has a considerable fortune to her name. This has left Charlotte lonely and she is very reserved. She struggles to open up to anyone and can't think of a single person who she would count as a dear friend.

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Memoir
XXX I am chained by my past and my future seems to hold more or less the same. XXX

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HISTORY
Richard Whittaker had traveled to Germany on business where he had met and fallen instantly in love with a great beauty named Sylvia. They were wed a year after they had met and only shortly after were they pregnant. Charlotte was born into a marriage of unrequited love. While Richard was madly in love with Sylvia, Sylvia was in love with Richard's fortune. As Charlotte grew older she could never understand how her father never saw her mother for what she was--a manipulative gold digger.

Sylvia insisted that Charlotte have the best tutors money could by so that she would receive the best education. Of course the education that Sylvia had in mind was not the education that Charlotte would have thrived with. Sylvia's ideal education consisted of lessons on etiquette, dancing, and refinement. Richard would not stand in the way of his wife's desires for a well bred and properly mannered young lady. He did see the intense desire and thirst for knowledge that Charlotte had, so he always made it a point to bring her books and have his vast book collection readily available for her.

When Charlotte was only eight years old, her father gave her a colt for her birthday. The horse was quite large, but especially so to a young girl. Charlotte fell in love with the yearling and named him Goliath. Sylvia was furious that Richard would give their daughter such a dangerous gift and pulled out all the stops in trying to convince Richard to sell the horse. For the first--and only time--in Charlotte's life, Richard refused to bend to Sylvia's will. He believed it was important for Charlotte to have moments of freedom.

Charlotte took advantage of her riding lessons. She was a natural. For several years it seemed the only place you would find her was with Goliath in the stables, or out running around the large country estate they lived on. Charlotte loved Goliath more than anyone except her father.

Sylvia had finally found a loop hole in separating her daughter from her beloved horse when Charlotte had turned fifteen. It was then that Sylvia decided Charlotte was old enough to come out into society and start meeting potential future suitors. That was when Charlotte moved to London.

To say that Charlotte hated London would be an understatement. Everything about the city was the opposite of what she loved. It was loud, and smelled funny, and she quickly realized that her mother was searching out the best suitor that would reap the highest benefits.

The only solace Charlotte had within London was her books. She dove head first and read anything she could get her hands on. Sylvia did not think it was becoming of a young woman to read so much, but since Charlotte was always in a better mood to put up with the social functions, Sylvia decided to let it slide.

When Charlotte was just shy of her 18th birthday, she ended up meeting a young man in her favorite bookstore in London. At first she disregarded him because it was evident from his attire and his mannerisms that he would never be someone that her mother approved of. She was even quite annoyed when he seemed to have an eye for her, and greatly despised it when her called her "Lottie"--though she later grew to love the nickname. It wasn't until one day when she was perusing the shelves of the bookstore, and she noticed him flipping through The Iliad and the Odyssey--on of her favorite classics--that she realized there might be more to him. A conversation was finally struck up between them and she gave him a chance.

Charlotte was terrified of her mother finding out. She kept telling him she couldn't meet him anywhere but the book store, and even then it was a bit iffy. Charlotte usually had a chaperone with her since her mother did not trust Charlotte to be left alone. It was almost always her driver. The boy began to leave her notes in books he knew she'd leaf through, and Charlotte began her correspondence with him that way.

It had been a couple weeks of this when Charlotte discovered that he was outside of her home. She was mortified when he had come in the night, though a bit flattered. She had begun to develop genuine feelings for him and made him promise to not come back to her home as it was too risky. Unfortunately for Charlotte, that had been the night her mother discovered the little trysts between them and quickly brought a stop to them. Charlotte was banned from the bookstore and any further communications with the boy. It was the first time in Charlotte's life that she argued with her mother. There had been a great deal of yelling and screaming and in the end she had lost. It was at that point that Sylvia began to throw Charlotte head first into the London society and kept her too busy to even think about sneaking off to meet her "filthy vagabond"--as her mother so delicately called him. She never found out what happened to the boy.

After things had calmed down Charlotte could never look at her mother the same. She distanced herself from the woman as she was forced into expensive world she had been born to.

The years began to pass and Charlotte's Aunt Margaret had sent a letter from America with the invitation for Charlotte to come live with her for a while. What Charlotte didn't know was that her mother had written to Aunt Margaret about how wild and defiant Charlotte had been. Aunt Margaret had offered to take Charlotte. It also wasn't mentioned to Charlotte that Aunt Margaret has found a very wealthy American bachelor that she is very likely to marry.

And that is how Charlotte finds herself with a first class ticket heading to America.

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OOC

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PORTRAYED BY :
Sirius Baren

TIME ZONE :
Mountain Standard Time[MT] .

HOW OFTEN DO I POST? :
As often as I need to

So begins...

Miss Charlotte Whittaker's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ollie R. Gatz Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Van Der Woodsen, Madame Yvette Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Caspian Mar Grey Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Schoen, Madame Jaqueline Character Portrait: Domonic Drew Castell Character Portrait: Chun-Hwa Mun Character Portrait: Henry R. Nelson Character Portrait: Amelia V. Nelson Character Portrait: Blanche Herveaux Character Portrait: Jewett, Paul Mr. Character Portrait: Ophelia Böhm Character Portrait: Oscar Dawson Character Portrait: Timothy P. Silver Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Arthur McGhee Character Portrait: Abia Crane Character Portrait: William Crane Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Coraline Jennine Blackwood Character Portrait: Noah Cobain Character Portrait: Xavior G. Kennedy
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Date: Wednesday, 10 April 1912. xxxLocation: Southampton, England. xxx
Arrival Time: 9:30 a.m xxx Time of Departure: 11:30 a.m. xxxWeather: Brisk winds northwest at 15-20 mph; 50°C




"Aye, batte'n down the hatches will ya'?"

"Are my eyes deceiv'n me, or am I seein' this ship's ready to land?"

"Eeeeh, boy!"

"I'm needin' help to pull this lever."

"Ready to land, Captain!"


A slow, crooked smile had spread across Captain Smith's face resembling that of much content. The great ocean liner had took approximately three years to construct, engineered to be the largest and most luxurious steam ship in the world. Its very first voyage would truly be something worth remembering; articles about the ship were thus written, claiming it to be a marvel of modern engineering. Both men, women, and children alike came fleeing from their homeland to get a glimpse of the monstrous beauty that dared hinge itself onto the British port as if it was the only thing that withheld dominance. The passengers to board the luxury ocean liner were nonetheless grateful. Many had lifted their chins up in prestige because not only were they able to gain enough money to enter, but they were the first to do so. Street market sells boomed significantly, men were getting their beard groomed quickly as their wives pimped their children for the long journey; brushing off any specks from the petticoats of young girls, and straightening their son's woolen jacket.

And, it all happened in a speck of time. Everyone clustering, like ants. It wasn't later until the ship's plank board was lowered had everyone began pushing and shoving for a leading spot up the ramp.

"You want first-class passengers to board first, Captain?" One of the ship's crew member approached him. It was no surprise that even the most wealthiest aristocats were given better treatment. To Captain Smith the first-class were 'walking money', they would surely help spread the word, and perhaps bring in even more fortune. "Yes," Smith assured, "let the first-class board first."

And, off the worker went to announce the news to the people who waited impatiently. "Listen up," he had to shout over the uproar, "so, far we have at least two thousand two hundred and twenty eight thousand of you. I want first-class passengers to board first, then second, and lastly third. I want this to be done in an orderly fashion. We will set off in approximately two hours."

At that the commotion grew much louder, people kissed their loved one's a farewell. It was a moment of ecstasy, all for the ship that deemed as virtually unsinkable, the Titanic was truly a phenomenon.



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Mood: Observant xxx Outfit:herexxx Theme song: N.A. xxx





'Two hours, two hours, two hours ..'

Arthur McGhee felt the perspiration beginning to form at his temple, like thousands of tiny crystals scattered about his ivory skin. He wiped at it with the back of his hand as he chewed at his lower lip, it was a habit he had possessed since it was his conceitedness that got him stuck in the game of Cheat at the British port pub.

He remembered his words, a mockery as he smirked at the dunderheed that had just sent another man walking with loss. 'Ah bet yer ass I can win you at a game of cards. Aw or nothin', lad.' But, nevertheless it was those very words that had got him a pound short out of his pocket. If only he'd kept his mouth shut.

"You give'n up yet?" Arthur looked up from his stack of cards to the burly man who sat before him, the way his crusted lips curled back in amusement every moment he saw the poor Scott's exasperation.

He kept his answer short. "No." He concentrated on his next play.

He put down an ace, and at that, the man guffawed something bitter and awful that made Arthur fight the urge to hurl.

"You aren't gonna win, mate." Arthur ignored him as he put down a two.

Then, a four; six, eight, and before you know it he's all out of cards. Checkmate.

Arthur looked up at the man's now gawked expression, and smirked. "Mibbe ah jus did."

The guy was infuriated now as he looked at the cards, to Arthur, to the cards, then back up at Arthur. "Bullshit," he spat out a wad of tobacco juice out of the side of his mouth.

The man was nothing but muscle and tattoo compared to Arthur. However, as he said that Arthur couldn't hold it in anymore. He laughed, and laughed until his sides were cramping; until the man grabbed at his white button down, and heaved him up from his chair. "I want a rematch". He demanded, spit freckling across Arthur's face.

"Not how it works." The man pushed Arthur against a wall; hard. Others began to move away immediately in the process at the same time the owner shouted for the two men to take their tussle outside, but he was only ignored. "Listen to me, mate. I will hurt-" he was distracted by Arthur's hand moving behind his ear, thus a silver dollar had appeared between his fingers as if by magic.

"Did you not hear me? Arthur's smile widened. "Yer outta luck, lassie." He threw the coin at the man's face, causing him to loose his grip on Arthur.

"Aye!" he called out as he saw the sly Scott scoop up a few coins from their table, including a third-class ticket to board the 'White Star Line', and ran free from the pub toward the grand ship.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker
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Mood: Excited/anxious Outfit: Here Theme Song: Here


There were birds singing in the tree just outside of Charlotte’s bedroom window when she woke up for the day. It was quite early in the morning; 6 am. She had had such a difficult time sleeping the night before as she knew what the following day would be bringing her.

Freedom.

Charlotte had been beneath her mother’s critical eye and scheming brain her entire life. Each move that Charlotte made in London’s high society was analyzed and executed to her mother’s specific instructions. Charlotte was a part of the elaborate plan to further Sylvia’s standing in society. There was no love lost between Charlotte and her mother. There was a great deal the young woman had wanted to say to her mother over the years but had always held her tongue.

No more. Charlotte was breaking free of her gilded cage and exchanging her silver spoon for a ticket upon the RMS Titantic.

Free air was just within her reach and she did not hesitate or waste time to get out of her bed. She shooed her maid away after she was ready for the day and turned to her bedroom. It would be a while before she stepped foot back into this place. It had never quite felt like home, not like the country estate.

Her heart ached for a moment. It had been too long since she had been to the country estate and ridden Goliath, now it would be months, if not more than a year, before she would be back and could feel the English country air stir through her honey hair.

“Miss Charlotte?” the maid had returned.

“Yes Anne?” Charlotte turned away from her vanity. She had been too anxious for breakfast.

“Your parents request your presence in the study before you depart.” Anne gave a short curtsy before departing.

Charlotte pulled a pair of white gloves over her hands before she retrieved her favorite classic Moby Dick and then departed her room. She didn’t look back.

The house was surprisingly quiet despite the buzz that had swept across the whole country over the luxury liner.

Charlotte descended the staircase slowly and looked over the paintings and portraits upon the wall. Most of them were of distant and dead relatives. When her footsteps hit the bottom step she made her way to her father’s study. She smiled when she entered the room and checked herself from any overzealous emotion that might bubble over within her.

”A lady is always poised, calm, and quiet. Never allow yourself to be swept away with feverish emotions.” Her mother’s words echoed in her mind.

“Charlotte, good morning,” her father walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. Charlotte responded in kind before looking to her mother who was giving Charlotte a once over.

“I still think it’s a bad idea to send her aboard that ship without a proper escort.” Sylvia looked to Richard with an air of annoyance on her face.

“She will be fine, my darling.” Richard moved to his wife’s side and leaned in only to have Sylvia lean away before he could give her a kiss.

“It isn’t proper, and who knows what sort of vagabonds will be aboard the Titanic. They’ve opened it up to third class passengers.” She hissed as if anyone born into a station beneath them was the filth of the earth or hell bent on taking advantage of those with privilege.

“Charlotte will be fine. She is a smart girl, and I’m sure there will be plenty of eyes around. I do not think that our daughter will become victim to those who may wish the wealthy harm. Besides, it’s not as if you can catch poverty.” Richard spoke with laughter in his tone. Charlotte spotted a look she had only ever seen in his eyes once before; it had been on the day he told Sylvia that Goliath was to stay and she wasn’t to impede on Charlotte’s riding lessons.

Charlotte gave her father a grateful look. He knew that she often felt stifled and smothered by her mother. He didn’t like the idea of her going to America--as he knew the ulterior motives--and so he was reluctant to let his baby bird fly. His condition to allowing her to go visit Aunt Margaret was to travel unattended upon the ship. He knew it was Charlotte’s first and last chance at living on her own and making her own choices before being chained to her aunt’s wills and wishes--which reflect Sylvia’s a great deal.

“I still think-” Sylvia had begun to pout and this time Richard’s eyes flashed.

“That is enough Sylvia. Now bid your daughter farewell so she can make the drive to be in Southampton in time to board the ship.

Sylvia pursed her lips but knew better than to pursue the matter further. She approached Charlotte and they exchanged a stiff hug and tight smiles.

Charlotte turned to her father and had a reaction very different. She melted into her father’s arms and he stroked her hair gently before pressing a kiss to the top. She could feel her emotions rise and cleared her throat as she pulled back.

“Thank you Papa, I love you.” She whispered and smiled at the man she had idolized her entire life.

“Enjoy every moment,” he was a man and too proud to cry, but Charlotte could see the tears shimmer in his eyes, “soak it all in Junebug.”

“Mr. Whittaker?” a properly dressed butler cleared his throat in the doorway. “The car is loaded and George is ready to drive her.”

“Thank you Nelson,” Richard nodded to the older man who bowed and turned away.

Charlotte took a deep breath as she memorized the details of her father’s study. The back wall contained bookshelves that were floor to ceiling and were stocked with an impressive collection of collectors editions and the latest prints. It smelled of paper and faintly of smoke from a cigar she was sure he had puffed the night before.

“You better get going Charlotte.” Her father’s voice pulled her from her reverie.

“Yes, thank you, I love you and I promise to write from America.” She smiled and turned from the study.

Anne stood by the door and passed her a large white hat. Charlotte donned it before she crossed the threshold and rushed down the stairs. She climbed into the car before leaning out the window and waving at her father as he stood in the front window.

The car puttered and rumbled along and soon the house was out of sight. There was a very strange feeling collecting in her stomach that she didn’t know how to identify. She mulled it over for a while before the city streets of London melted and gave way to the vast open countryside.

The distance was far but covered more quickly within the car than it would’ve been if she had taken a carriage. She enjoyed the sights and her mind dwelt on the life she was leaving behind.

The thrill of the unknown had started to marinate in her bones at the first mention of going to America. Now that the day was finally here and to be realized as she would board the RMS Titanic, she was giddy inside.

Charlotte had seen pictures of the great ship in the newspapers but they had not prepared her for how truly gigantic the ship was. It was the greatest creation she had ever seen in her life.

Her first impression of the port where the RMS Titanic was docked was a smelly one. The air was heavy with the smell of fish and the gulls that circled around and squaked a song very much out of tune. She brought her hand to her nose and her eyes almost watered from the smell. She was not used to it and had to cough a few times before the smell began to grow dead upon her nose.

She could taste the salt in the air as she turned to George who was unloading her great travel trunk and other bags with her worldly possessions. “It’s a great deal bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Indeed Miss Charlotte.”

Charlotte brought her eyes to scan the crowd and she quickly brought her free hand up to her hat as a breeze picked up and rustled the rim. It was evident to distinguish between who the wealthy were and who were lucky to be sleeping in the bowels of the ship.

There was a call for first class passengers and Charlotte marveled how the ship swallowed the line of people like a great whale of the sea--perhaps even Moby Dick.

“That would be you Miss Charlotte, are you ready?” George asked her with a tilt of his head.

“Oh, yes,” she shook her head to clear the thoughts before she began to step towards the line of fancily clad peacocks that stood in stark contrast to the sparrows that filled the dock.

Charlotte was careful to keep her bubble of comfort and personal space intact and without anyone intruding on it. She arrived to the line and procured the ticket from the small clutch she carried. There were only two contents to her clutch; the first class ticket, and her Charles Dickens novel.

George had been able to pass all of her luggage onto the crewmen who were charged with all of the personal belongings of the first class passengers. After all, you couldn’t expect an esteemed woman like Charlotte to carry her things with her. George passed instructions for who it belonged to and which state room it would go to.

Charlotte turned and caught sight of George in time to wave before he disappeared in the crowd.

A sense of lonely anticipation filled her soul and it wasn’t what she expected.

Charlotte was alone for the first time in her life. There were no maids, no butlers, chauffeurs, escort, and especially no mother with her.

“Miss?” a voice asked confused and Charlotte turned to the man charged with checking the tickets.

“Yes?”

“I asked if I may see your ticket please.” He gave her an odd look and Charlotte realized she had traveled away in her mind again.

She flushed a flattering rosy color before she passed him the ticket. “Yes, I am so sorry. I was distracted.”

“Aye, I don’t blame you. Many people are swept away by the grandeur of our beautiful ship.” He said as he scanned her ticket and his eyes widened. Charlotte’s father had spared no expense and had invested in the most expensive room he could buy. It was a small fortune. For many it was more than they’d see in their life, but for Charlotte’s father it had been pocket change, nothing more than lunch money.

Charlotte merely smiled and thanked him as he handed her ticket back to her. She was in awe of the ship, but it wasn’t the reason she felt distant today.

There was a feeling of displacement within Charlotte. She felt as though she had been detached from her body and was merely an onlooker into her life as she moved away from the boarding deck and began to wander down the side of the ship. She was curious over her room accommodations and felt very lost on such a large ship.

If only I had some sort of a map. She thought idly.

She wandered only a short distance before she spotted a young man, no more than 17, and quickly stopped him.

“Excuse me,” she waved him over.

The poor lad’s eyes nearly bugged out of his eyes to be addressed by such a refined and beautiful woman.

“Y-yes Miss?” he stuttered and hastily pulled the cap off of his head and twisted it in his hands.

“Could you help me find my way to my room?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ollie R. Gatz Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Van Der Woodsen, Madame Yvette Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Caspian Mar Grey Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Schoen, Madame Jaqueline Character Portrait: Domonic Drew Castell Character Portrait: Chun-Hwa Mun Character Portrait: Henry R. Nelson Character Portrait: Amelia V. Nelson Character Portrait: Blanche Herveaux Character Portrait: Jewett, Paul Mr. Character Portrait: Ophelia Böhm Character Portrait: Oscar Dawson Character Portrait: Timothy P. Silver Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Arthur McGhee Character Portrait: Abia Crane Character Portrait: William Crane Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Coraline Jennine Blackwood Character Portrait: Noah Cobain Character Portrait: Xavior G. Kennedy Character Portrait: Rosalie Essex
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Date: Thursday, April 11th 1912. xxx Time: 10:30 am. xxx Location: the coast of Celtic Sea
Headed to: Queenstown, Ireland xxx Arrival time: 3:30 pm. xxx Weather: partly cloudy with an abundance of stratocumulus clouds. moderate breeze at 50°C N/NW




Titanic's departure from Southhampton yesterday was quite the success! Afterwards, the massive vessel sailed to Cherbourg, France to board more passengers. Nonetheless, everything seemed to be running smoothly, not a mishap identified. Its passengers are enjoying the long voyage as well. Some even managed to make friends with those within their social heiarchy, but who knows? Maybe love will parish within this grand vessel, or rivals will be made. Sometimes fate just has to be waited upon before it is allowed to make its next move.

As first class passengers began to make their way towards the Parisian Café for an early morning coffee, most second and third class passengers aimed to put on their best fitting garments to join them, passing the bouncers who are scouting for any possible intruders. Nevertheless, people are making the most of it until their final destination to Pier 60 in New York on April 17, 1912.

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Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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Charlotte was utterly swept away by the grandeur and beauty of the ship as well as her accommodations. Her suite was modeled in the Georgian style with very beautiful, and extremely expensive furnishings. She had spent the first night on the ship enjoying the peace and quiet of her room. She was gloriously alone and it was difficult to not soak in these moments she had to herself.

The following morning greeted her with more enthusiasm than she had the day before. There was no one there to tell her where she could, or couldn't go, and this thought made her restless. She dressed for the day in a simple dress that still reflected the wealth that she had. She snapped the buttons going down the front of the material before she turned to one of her trunks that was filled with nothing but her most favorites from her hat collection. She looked through them trying to decide what to wear for the day when her eye caught her blue striped hat.

"All right Miss Whittaker, time for breakfast." She mumbled to herself as she checked her appearance in the mirror. She thought she looked okay in her attire, nothing special or grand to talk about. She could feel her stomach gurgle and knew that she was ready to get something to eat. Nobody knew her here and she smiled. She was apart of the first class, but no one would possibly know the fortune tied to her name. Perhaps she could make actual friends on the ship.

She left her room after a quick turn of her room key and put it within the small clutch she had carried onto the ship the day before. She had also put her copy of Moby Dick in the clutch in case she found somewhere quiet to read.

She wandered a bit before she finally reached the cafe meant for first class dining only. She could smell the food even before she had reached the doorway. She eyed the lower class people who were lined up waiting to get a glimpse of the inside, or attempt to fool the bouncer at the door. She shook her head and walked straight past them up to the man.

"Good morning," she flashed him a smile and he let her slide past him.

Charlotte stepped into the room and began to walk slowly around the perimeter. It was beautiful and all the faces she saw held a bit of a pompous air. This was where she belonged, whether she liked it or not.

She had just spotted a table to sit at when something caught her eye.

There was a man sitting at a table, alone for the moment, but there was a familiarity about him that she couldn't shake. She shifted over a few steps to try and see his face. Once she caught sight of it her brow furrowed in concentration. Who was this man? Why did he strike her as someone she knew?

He was dressed fairly basic, but he was clean cut and his clothes looked pressed. She took a couple steps to approach him. She bit her lower lip and glanced around her wondering if anyone else would strike this feeling within her. Was it perhaps the excitement of the ship? Had it gone to her head?

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Charlotte knew exactly who it was. The memories were jolted into the forefront of her mind as they came tumbling out of the depths of her subconscious. It had been about six years since she had last seem him. Back then he had some of his baby fat left in his face and he had been leaner. Now he looked very much like the rugged and handsome man she had known he would become.

She felt a bit breathless as the whispers of her past squirmed through her mind. This was the boy that her mother had banned her from ever seeing because he was the "filth of the streets". Clearly that was not the case now. It was obvious good fortune had struck him, why else would he be dining his breakfast among the elite of the first class?

There was an excited feeling stirring and bubbling within her. She couldn't resist approaching him.

She finally reached his table and there was a delicate smile plastered on her face. The pain of losing his friendship was erased as she looked at him. "Stas!" his name escaped her lips before she could follow propriety. She blushed before shaking her head. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she looked a bit bashful. "Mr. Kensington." There was a twinkle in her eye and a smile upon her face. "I can see that your dreams of joining the finance industry have come to fruition." She glanced at one of the empty chairs at his table. "Would it be all right if I sat here?" her mother would be appalled.

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Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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                        It really wasn’t all it was hyped up to be. From the way the people were lined up hoping to enter, one would think the cafe had chairs made from solid gold. That was hardly the case. He sat in one of the wicker chairs pulled into a table set against the wall, one with only three chairs, though it wasn’t as though he were really expecting company. He ordered a small breakfast, and began formulating plans. What would his cover be? Unemployed heir or a working man, humble and appreciative of his fortune? Either one had shown good results, albeit amongst different crowds. Which was why he was observing. Taking in all the information he could with visuals and limited hearing with keen eyes, hardly missing a thing. This was the main reason he’d wanted to dine among the first class. Reconnaissance. He would generate a cover and plan of action specially tailored for a specific type of mark; the perfect thing they’d dreamed of. He was hoping to cast a wide net this time, however, seeing as how he didn’t have much time to observe one specific person and create something specific for that one individual. He’d have to work with generalizations, which was much harder, but he hardly balked at the challenge. He’d just been brought a coffee, which he was sipping at slowly, when a distinct voice caught his attention.

                        He heard ‘Stas!’, which was a surprise, and then ‘Mr. Kensington’, which sent a cold chill down his spine. He recognized that name. He recognized that name because it was him. Well, in a sense. It was an old version of him, one that he’d shed and killed long ago. And that was a name he’d hoped he’d never have to hear again.

                        But then there was the person who had called that name standing before him, just as beautiful as he remembered, and it felt to him like a dream. Fleeting, ephemeral. Entirely unreal. And yet, there she was, commenting on his (very fake) childhood dreams. He was speechless for a moment, something very rare indeed. She asked politely after a rather embarrassing moment of silence, if she could sit, and again it took him a second to process what she’d said.

                        ”Of course,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper and his eyes wide and unbelieving. Then, ”Of course,” louder, more forcefully, more a statement than a question. He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of his stupor, and stood quickly.

                        ”How rude of me,” he said, chuckling lightly, as he moved to pull the chair out for her. ”Please, sit.”

                        Sure she was securely seated, Stas took his seat once more and quickly waved down a waiter to offer a coffee for Charlotte. He cleared his throat, unsure of what, exactly to say. This was unneeded, to say the least, and the unexpected appearance of an old victim was never pleasant. But she was more than just an old victim. She was... Well, that was a story for another day.

                        He settled, eventually, on smiling softly. ”Miss Whittaker. I simply cannot express how much of a pleasure it is to see you.” He paused, laughed lightly, bashfully, under his breath. Then added, as though with hesitation, ”You look just as beautiful as I imagined you’d be.”

                        He retained his composure, for the most part. But the rat inside him, the scurrying cowardice, was scrambling to seek an escape. This was unexpected, unplanned for. He felt trapped in an undesirable situation. He would need to find a way to escape without seeming rude, without appearing as though he were eager to leave her company. Unfortunately, it seemed that would prove a very difficult task indeed.

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                        Well. It was fun while it lasted. Why was picking pockets in a crowd in a city so much easier? Syllia suspected it had something to do with the escape routes. Even if someone noticed their money missing, there wasn’t a thing they could do about it if the suspected thief was already twenty minutes gone. But it was different on the ship. She couldn’t just disappear. She was relying solely on the nimbleness of her fingers and her quick step. But she thought, at the very least, it would take them a lot longer to figure it out than this.

                        One second she was pleased and whistling, on her way back to her brother with a sizeable loot. The next, she was being gripped firmly by the elbow and dragged to a far corner of the room. She stumbled along with the man pulling her, nearly tripping once or twice. The grip, she thought, was unnaturally strong for one of the older men she’d picked from. She looked up at the stern face of her captor, and saw someone she didn’t recognize at all. She hadn’t stolen anything from him. Aw, hell. Why did people always go around getting involved in business that wasn’t theirs? Would it have really killed him to let her slip off? She chided herself for letting herself be caught regardless, even if it wasn’t by one of her actual victims. She’d have to work on her subtlety, she supposed.

                        He finally stopped his unrelenting gait, and Syllia took the chance to yank her arm from his grip. ”Unhand me, ya brute!” she spat, scowling. Then, as if all of a sudden remembering the role she was meant to play, she sniffed and lifted her chin high, then lowered her voice pitch slightly in order to emulate a more masculine sound. ”You ought to learn not to be so terribly rude. That’s no way to treat a first class passenger.” She attempted to emulate her brother’s speech patterns, stopped stringing words and syllables together and cutting off ends of words. More formal, more stiff. It was terribly uncomfortable.

                        Fortunately, it didn’t seem like she’d have to keep up the charade for long. She was ready to fight his accusation of thievery, but she knew it was all over the moment he called her Miss. As Stas would say, her cover was blown. She froze for a moment, like a deer in headlights, trying to figure her way out of that mess.

                        She channeled her brother for a moment, trying to pick up on small details. There must have been a reason he dragged her to seclusion to accuse her of theft. Because he wanted to give her a chance to explain herself? Unlikely, given the dark, dangerous tone of his voice. Perhaps he wasn’t sure he was right. She took a quick glance behind him at all the true first class passengers. The man had wealth, but he wasn’t dressed as finely, she could tell. So he was second class. Accusing her falsely would be terribly embarrassing, she knew, so that was a potential reason. Perhaps he wanted something in return for not turning her in. That didn’t seem like the likeliest option, to tell the truth, given his harsh and unforgiving glare. Damn. When it all came down to it, she wasn’t her brother after all. Stas would have compiled all the observations she’d made and turned it into a quick and astute decision. One that would get him out of the mess. But she lacked that final step. She wasn’t great at reading people, truth be told, other than their tells at the poker table. Ultimately, she relied on her wits. It always came down to that. And if all else failed, talk fast enough and offer a decision that she’d make for them and leave them confused enough to give her just enough time to slip away. She went with that plan.

                        After a second or two had passed since his question, her wide-eyed look fell away in favor of a grin. She spoke in an imitation of a group of Pikeys she’d met once, those hustling gods. Not a single person understood half of what they said, and yet, somehow, they always managed to walk away with someone’s money. So she spoke fast, very fast. ”Turn me in and ya just make more problems for yourself, really, mate. Don’t want to do that, do ya, eh? I mean, who knows what’ll happen. They give me the boot, sure, but what’s your fate in all’a this? Any old bloke off the street can see you don’t belong here, not quite, just like me, so who’s to say you don’t get off just as poorly as me, ya see what’am saying?” She paused, very shortly, to give him a questioning look. Christ, she hoped this would work. ”Listen, tell ya what,” she said, digging around in her pocket for, and surfacing with, a deck of cards held together by a metal clip. ”I’ll play ya for it, how’s that sound? I win, ya let me go, no harm no foul. You win, well.” She shrugged, nonchalantly. ”Then you go ahead and turn me in, and I’ll even throw the wallets in for ya, and whatcha do withem isn’t my business.” She stared up at him with a wicked grin on her face, confidence, just like Stas taught her. If this failed she’d be screwed, but she’d be damned if she’d show any fear.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Caspian Mar Grey Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor Character Portrait: Domonic Drew Castell Character Portrait: Ophelia Böhm Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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______________Juliette Le Sauvage______________

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    L O C A T I O N : BOAT DECK

    Dɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✧ #ea98c6|| Tʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✧ dim gray
    xxxxxTʜᴇᴍᴇ ✧ Suite Bergamasque|| Oᴜᴛғɪᴛ ✧ X
_____The morning sun created a gleam of light upon the English Harbor. Most chose to wave goodbye to their loved ones or to the onlookers of such an esteemed and historic occasion. Since Juliette had no family present and had been on the ship since the day before considering she was technically staff, she took the scenic route to the other side of the ship and watched the sun rise over Southhampton. She left her hair down, as she always did when she was free to move about, and inhaled the salty air. The few times she visited Spain with her parents she was completely drawn to the sea. Unfortunately Paris, her home since birth, merely has a river for her viewing pleasure and she smiled now at her good fortune of spending time floating about it for a solid length of time.
Juliette was not certain as to how long she had spent simply looking out at the view before her, but she imagined it to be quite a while since people could be seen filling out the ship and taking advantage of good weather and open decks. She sighed wistfully looking at them, knowing her brief moment of piece was spent and this place would hold no more privacy for her. She gathered up her skirts and began to make the trek back to her small quarters in Third Class, knowing by now people will be crowding the cramped hallways, when she was run upon by a very aggro servant. This man she had already been introduced to and he paused to catch his breath as if he'd been running. She reigned in her accent as she spoke knowing it was simply better for everyone involved if she didn't have to repeat herself.
"Bonjour Marc. What has you looking so flustered that you'd run all this way to find."
Forgive me Miss Juliette. But it's the other musician, ya see, 'e's sea sick. Tosser can't even hold his stomach five minutes into the damn voyage. We need a replacement at the Breakfast Cafe.You're the only other employed Pianist here and the quartet only plays for lunch and dinner."
"Merde,"she looked down at herself and was thankful she wore something semi-work appropriate. Her white shite, black ascot, and black skirts would have to do. She pulled a hair pin from her sleeve and quickly did her hair into a neat bun, with only a few strands falling but never too much to look messy.
"Very well Marc, take me to the cafe. I will just have to improvise."
Marc pulled her at a swift pace and she nearly lost her footing trying to keep up. "Please hurry we're already late!
The soon arrived to a slowly thickening crowd entering the French-style cafe and she straightened her skirts and pressed her fingers to her blushed cheeks as they'd grown pink from the exercise. She strode in quickly and smiled as she heard Marc letting out a deep exhale before he ran to inform his supervisors of her arrival no doubt. She accidently brushed passed a tall, rather rugged looking blonde gentleman and quickly apologized before continuing on. Despite there being people already in attendance, she walked straight up to the piano as if it was planned and began to play one of the many pieces she has memorized in her many years, Suite Bergamasque by Debussy, a favorite of hers. It had a lively into and was a moving piece in all. She quickly lost herself to the melody as people filed in.





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Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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Charlotte saw the surprise register on his face and knew that he was mirroring the feelings that were stirring within her. She offered a smile as he gathered his wits and then quickly stood to pull her chair out. She murmured a thanks before she sat and was scooted in towards the table. She looked him over and flushed as he spoke of her beauty. Whenever she received compliments on her beauty it always felt forced. She never felt like it was genuine.

It was different with Stas. Even now her mind was being pulled down the lanes of memory to the young man who would corner her in the bookstore and whisper into her ear. She had to shake her head to dispel the near forgotten memories so she could bring herself back into the present. "I can't even explain to you how happy I am to see you." She gave him an award winning smile that lit up her entire face.

Charlotte had never imagined she would know someone upon this cruise, let alone stumble across Stas once more. She had been so angry and bitter with her mother for banishing her from ever seeing Stas again. It seemed as if fate had something else in mind.

A cup of coffee was brought out to her and she nodded to the waiter. "Thank you." She poured some cream from a small pitcher on the table and dropped two lumps of sugar in. She stirred it with a small spoon before taking a short sip.

She brought her eyes back to Stas and a whimsical sigh escape her. "I never thought I'd see you again." She admitted. "I don't suppose there's anything I could do to ever make up for what happened in our past, but I do want you to know how sorry I am. I never meant to leave you in the dark. My mother-" she stopped herself and shook her head.

"I guess I should thank providence for giving me this opportunity to finally clear the air between us." The smile returned to her face as she sipped her coffee again.

"Tell me, what waits for you in America?" the curious look had entered her eye.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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                        It was too surreal to be unreal, that much he knew. His brain, no matter how tired or out of sorts, would never fabricate this as some sort of dream. He was scared, and that was the only thing he knew for certain. After all, he had no way of knowing just how much she was aware of. She was playing nice now, but he’d had more than one run-in with someone who held a grudge and was more than happy to conceal it until they had him feeling secure in his safety. Did she know about him, who he was— who he really was?

                        She expressed her joy at seeing him again, and he couldn’t help but feel a remnant of fleeting affection for the smile that crossed her face. He hadn’t seen it in such a long amount of time, and yet the visual brought back such vivid memories of the same smile that he’d once been the frequent recipient of. He chuckled again, nodding his agreement, still silent and slightly disbelieving.

                        He watched her fix her coffee, and took note of how she liked it. Cream, two sugars. Who knew when it might prove to be useful information. He was used to remembering the most inconsequential of things, as it was always something that proved additionally impressive to people who weren’t used to having others remember small things about them. It was almost a subconscious reaction. Simultaneously, he marveled at the fact that he’d never had the opportunity to memorize her coffee order before. Somehow, during the duration of their entire— he wasn’t sure what to call it, actually. Relationship certainly wasn’t the right term— something, they’d never actually gone out for coffee. It was a strange sort of knowledge.

                        Still, there was an anxiety eating at the back of his mind. How much did she know for certain? Questions raced through his mind until— notes rang through the air, deliberate and melodic and utterly calming. His racing heart slowed, steadied. How calming. Why was he afraid? Lottie, harsh as it was to say, had never been the cleverest of girls. Smart, yes, but not quite sharp, not in the way he and Syl needed to be. Naive, and that’s what he had liked about her. But it was that innocence that meant she would never be privy to his true intents. He needn’t fear for his being. In fact, this was an opportunity. He was different now; meaner, smarter, more cautious. He’d never fall victim to his old mistakes. And this was a chance to prove it.

                        He was yanked from his reverie by her voice again. She was apologizing. Somehow, he couldn’t hide his shock. And he was very good at concealing his emotions, he’d learned. At least he knew now she definitely didn’t know him as anything other than ‘Stas Kensington.’ Still, his eyebrows rose, and he set down his steaming cup of coffee to place a gentle hand over hers. ”Lottie,” he said, voice soft (and only half intentionally so), ”I have never, not once, cast any blame on you for what happened then.” And then he laughed, a rueful sort, nostalgic. ”But, forget that. We’re different people now, we need not dwell in the past.”

                        ”Hm,” he said, and took a sip of his coffee, pretending to be perfectly willing to tell her. He used the time it took to swallow to come up with a sensible lie. Finance. Something in finance. ”A job, actually,” Stas said, nodding as though he himself couldn’t believe his luck. ”I’ve been offered a position at one of the better banks in the Americas, and I figured—” he shrugged, laughing, “—well, I’ve nothing to lose, have I? So here I am, on my way.” He smiled at her, took another sip of his coffee. ”But that’s plenty on me. What of you? Surely something exciting must be dragging you away from home.”

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                        She didn’t appreciate his attitude, and she would certainly be eager to let him know as much if he didn’t hold her fate in his hands. Gads, Stas would be so mad if he found out she’d gotten herself snagged on the first day. He’d ice her out for a week at least, the bastard. She couldn’t afford to let this man hand her in. If she needed to, she’d bolt. She was very fast, and had lots of practice running away from law enforcement. Then she’d just have to be careful about not running into the imposing young man again. No big deal, even if it would be a bummer.

                        He kept her waiting. Threatened in a low voice, deep and threatening. She fought the urge to scoff. Stas had used that voice on her before, and it had never particularly deterred her from doing whatever rash act he tried to discourage her from. ”Well if you’re as good at weaselin’ yer way outta things as you say you are,” she mumbled as he deliberated on whether he’d play or not, under her breath, but loud enough that she was sure he’d heard, ”I’m sure you’d find some way.”

                        After what seemed like an eternity, he finally agreed to play her game, but not before reiterating her rules to her, as though he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t try to cheat her way out of it. She frowned. Syl was a lot of things— a thief, a chronic gambler, a cheater— but she wasn’t a liar. If she’d stated her terms, she’d follow through on them. But this man wouldn’t know that, would he? His opinion of her was already sullied, even though he hardly knew anything about her, didn’t even know her name. Damn rich folk. Always prancing around, acting all ‘holier than thou.’ Asses, the lot of them.

                        At least he had agreed to play. That was a weight off her shoulders. God bless those Pikeys. One of them had even stolen her first kiss (and the only thing she could really feel about it was impressed, truth be told), but she knew now she’d have to spend a lifetime thanking them and their skills of the trade. She’d study up on their accent more, too. Their incomprehensibility was, clearly, more of a talent than she’d given it credit for. And clearly this man’s mother had never warned him to be wary of street rats who carried cards with them. She ran through the games she could win. Blackjack, but even with her ability to count the cards, sometimes extraordinary luck won out in the end, and she didn’t want to risk that. Poker, but that was a little more skill-based, and she didn’t know the man well enough. Three card monte, that was the one. Infallible. No way she could lose, and it’d be over before he could blink.

                        ”Fantastic,” she said, grinning, and pulled out a chair at the nearest table to sit and pull out the cards she needed. ”We’ll play monte then. Find the Queen, Find the Painted Lady, it goes by a hundred different names. Easy enough. Look.” She held up three cards she’d taken, the queen of hearts, and the two jacks of spades and clubs. ”All you gotta do is find the queen. Follow her with your eyes.”

                        She tossed down the cards on the table to begin shifting them around. He would never find the Queen, this much she was sure of. It was all in the sleight of hand. She took the jack of spades in one hand, the queen and the other jack in the other. She made sure he knew where each card was. And as she tossed the card down, instead of tossing the lowermost card (the queen), which it appeared she had done, she threw the uppermost card (the jack). An easy switch, but an effective one. No one to date had ever discovered the trick, reason being that, if done correctly, the move was practically undetectable. He’d be following the incorrect card from the start, and a man like this (she could tell this much) would never guess. He’d trust his eyes, and that was the mistake. She finished shuffling the cards around, and pulled her hands back, held her palms out in a display that showed she’d leave everything, her fate and all, in his hands. ”So,” she said, a smile lifting the edges of her lips, ”go on. Find the painted lady.”

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Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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There was a strange anxiousness that was surrounding Stas and it wasn't something that Charlotte found she could put her finger on. This was natural of course. It had been years since they had seen each other. It was years since she had known him. The time that stretched between them separated the young budding lover from the friendly acquaintances that now sat across from one another. He relaxed quite suddenly as the trilling notes drifted up from the skill piano player's fingers and into the air. She was surprised as his hand covered hers. She was even more startled to discover how familiar his touch still felt.

"No, perhaps it wasn't my fault, but it was all still because of my mother." There were very old feelings starting to surface that she had forgotten and Charlotte had a great deal to think over when she had some private time to herself. She had buried Stas in her past. She had buried the foolish and naive girl who had believe she was sneaking behind her very controlling mother. Charlotte knew that she had been a fool. So why was she entertaining herself with the very man her mother had banished her from ever seeing again?

If Sylvia only knew who covered Charlotte's hand, she would very likely have a stroke from the shock of it all.

"That sounds like an adventure. I wish I had a reason as exciting as accepting a new job." Her words were serious. "My aunt has invited me to come stay with her for the year." She sipped at her own coffee and felt the hot liquid travel down the familiar and warm path in her throat. "I don't expect it will be that easy though. My mother has kept me under tight lock and key for the past six years. I can't imagine she'd let me go so easily, especially by myself despite this being the Titanic. You never know what can happen on a ship at sea." There was a spark in her eye that hinted at mischief.

"I never got a direct answer, but I think my Aunt Margaret has lined up a husband for me in America." Her nose scrunched up ever so slightly and there was a hint of disdain in her voice. "If she has, I think I might run away to Africa then," she managed to bring a bit of a smile back to her face, "then neither my mother or aunt can interfere with my life any longer." Charlotte had no idea how close to the truth she was.

She also didn't understand what had caused her to open up so quickly to Stas. She was usually more reserved than this and preferred to stay quiet in social situations. She supposed that it was because Stas was from the part of her past where she had believed she could break from the golden chains that bound her to the high society. She liked to believe she was still that girl; the one willing to rebel against her mother and create her own life how she saw fit.

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Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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                        Headed to her Aunt’s, was she? Stas vaguely remembered some mention of the woman from many years back, a passing comment maybe. The thought that she’d potentially only be in America for a year intrigued him. Depending on where she’d be, if— theoretically, very theoretically indeed— he were to attempt to pick his job back up where he left off, if the whole of it proved to be too difficult to accomplish over the span of the time at sea, he’d have a whole other year to finish it. And at the end of that year, she’d go back to her proper home and he’d never have to see her again. (He ignored the unsettling feeling the thought brought to the pit of stomach.)

                        Her comment on the possibilities being on the ship brought lent a similar gleam of mischief to his eye. ”What could happen indeed,” he murmured, with a slight twist of his lips. He sipped slowly at his coffee as he listened to her speak of what awaited her when she arrived at her aunt’s, her suspicions and all. A noise of disapproval originated in his throat and he set his coffee back down on its saucer with a clink. He turned again to peer into her eyes, frowning just a touch. "Certainly not. Africa’s far too dangerous for a sweet girl like you.” He smiled, eyes narrowing in endearment. ”You’ll be eaten by the lions.” A short laugh. ”No,” he said, shaking his head as he turned once more to pick up his cup. ”Tell you what, if you ever find yourself about to board a ship to Africa, drop by for a visit first. At which point—” he laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners— ”you may as well just stay until things blow ever.”

                        A joking comment, meant to be far from an earnest offer, but when he looked up into her eyes once more, he was sure to slightly drop the wide grin he’d put on his face— a small suggestion that the offer wasn’t all fun and games after all. Microexpressions. He was particularly well-versed in them by then, and found them to be the quickest path to a good con. People could never really control their brains, and they never knew what hit them.

                        So, keeping in the strain of the whole, ‘subtle indications people typically fail to consciously notice’, Stas turned away relatively quickly again, as though just a little embarrassed, and finished the last of his coffee. Again, he plastered a soft smile on his face. ”Well,” he said, “it’s been a joy to see you again, Lottie. Truly. Unfortunately—” and he stood— ”I’m afraid I’m supposed to meet an acquaintance of mine, and I may be just a touch late. Would it be terribly rude to ask that you excuse me?” He grimaced, a smiling one, an expression that indicated his regret at having to leave so soon. The waiter came by, and Stas paid him from a wallet he’d nicked the first day. ”You know what?” he said, turning back to the table. “How presumptuous would it be for me to ask you to dinner tonight, because I do believe I’m going to anyway.” He raised an eyebrow, lips quirking up to the side. “What do you say? May I drop by your cabin around seven?”

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                        As it turned out, the game may have been a mistake after all. Wealthy man with starched cuffs and a stiff collar, who would have pegged him for the ‘prone to anger’ types? Not her, clearly. She didn’t even have the time to refute his claim before he was gripping the front of her shirt and yanking her towards him. She winced, less from the pain and more from the shock. ”Ouch,” she hissed, ready to look back up and glare defiantly, but again was never given the chance.

                        ”Let go of me,” she said forcefully, but in a low voice, also careful to not draw attention to the two of them. Attention was never good. For a thief, having marks know their face was one of the worst things that could happen. ”I already told you, I’m no liar! Check for yourself, mate.” She clawed at his arm and dug her heels into the ground, but was unable to stop their steady progress towards the exit. ”S’hardly my fault you didn’t get the outcome you wanted, but look— the queen’s there! On the left!” Her verbal and physical struggle still yielded nothing. Damn, why did she have to be so small? And to top things off, this man was clearly no idle person, she could tell by the feel of his straining forearm under her grasping hands. Shit. She just had the worst luck, didn’t she?

                        In anger, she pursed her lips and growled deep in her throat. ”You got a helluva lotta nerve calling me the pathetic one when you’re the man going back on his word. At least I’ve got some semblance of honor.”

                        They were out the door and past the bouncer. Her time was running out. Wildly, she glanced around, searching for some form of anything that could help her out of her sticky situation. Finding nothing, she glanced down. Well, she had nothing to lose. Screwing up her face, she lifted her foot and brought it back down— hard. And on the man’s foot. She was ecstatically pleased to find that it had worked. From the shock or the pain maybe (she didn’t stay to find out), his grip on the collar of her shirt loosened enough for her to pull back and slip out of his hold. Without waiting around, she turned and took off, making a dash for the nearby deck of the ship and hoping that the throngs of people would provide enough cover to keep her out of his sight.