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Ophelia Bรถhm

"Kiss me and you will see how important I am."

0 · 395 views · located in Titanic Ship

a character in “April 1912”, originally authored by Saje, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”AS FOR ME I'M A WATERCOLOUR. I WASH OFF _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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FULL NAME
"Quite a mouthful, if I do say so myself. My name dates back centuries and centuries down my family tree."
HANNE OPHELIA DIMANCHE BOHM


ALIAS
"Hanne was my grandmothers name and her grandmother before that. It's a name that has been passed down to me, though I refuse to go by it. I prefer Ophelia, like the old Elizabeth Siddal painting. Hanne is out of the picture."
OPHELIA


BIRTH DATE
"A blessed day, if I do say so myself."
DeECEMBER 11th, 1889 ; 23 YEARS


ORIGIN
"My full name is such a mouthful just for this reason. I come from many different backgrounds, but German, French and English are the most prominent of the bunch."
GERMAN | FRENCH | ENGLISH


SEXUALITY
"What's said is said."
HETEROSEXUAL


ECONOMIC CLASS
"Oh, please..."
SECOND-CLASS


OCCUPATION
"My mother always did have an eye for the best fashion."
SEAMSTRESS


MARTIAL STATUS
"A young woman can't be young and alone forever, don't you think?"
CURRENTLY NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP

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APPEARANCE
Ophelia stands at a short height and perhaps doesn't possess the most womanly body on the planet. Though her body was moulded to have the embodiment of femininity with her soft curves accentuated by the full beaded skirts she wears, Ophelia is still all bones. Her hip bones are sharp enough to stab a man as viciously as the sword hanging from it and the coils of muscles unbecoming on a woman weave into her short limbs. She manages to avoid being gawky despite her slim, boyish frame through sheer will, of which she wields in abundance. The brilliance or lack thereof of Ophelia's hair is of great debate, and a source of aggravation to hother ladies, who coo at its length - although Ophelia herself would much rather be bald or close to - but dismay at its yellow-y shade bordering on sunrise, but not quite. Her eyes ignite like twin oceans, a deep sky blue bursting from the dark pupils to bleed into the brilliant cyan of an afternoon sky and finally evaporating into a vivid, pale light. Her stunning eyes are emphasised by its size, large and framed by a thick curtain of dark lashes, with almost sleepy, doe-eyed tilt.

BODY SHAPE
Petite/Slender

MEASUREMENTS
30-22-32 / 76-56-81 cm

WEIGHT
90lbs / 40kg

HEIGHT
4'11" / 150cm

SHOE / FEET
US 5 / EURO 36 / UK 3

DRESS SIZE
US 0 / UK 4

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LIKES
She loves the way words string together like beads on a necklace and how they may form riddles. Music moves her, be it through dance or singing. She likes wandering through lonely spaces like art galleries, museums and libraries. She prefers the company of animals to that of humans, but enjoys learning things about others. She can be found relaxing in bubble baths but enjoys cold weather. Oddly enough, she enjoys science despite not being a fan of most things muggle. She enjoys the outdoors, particularly the ocean, which reminds her of home.

DISLIKES
She is not fond of sunsets and sunrises because they resemble the bleeding of a wound. Years of being in foster care and not knowing her own date of birth has made her dislike birthdays as a whole. She needs to be free, and dislikes the feeling of being trapped, hence her avoidance of shoes.. More than anything, she dislikes talking about herself.

TALENTS
Expert In Different Languages / Ambidextrous / Fine Arts / Swimming / Writing / Sewing / Skipping Stones / Good Sense of Humour /

WEAKNESSES
Claustrophobia / Naive / Introvert / Physically Weak / Forgetful / Bored Easily / Manipulative / Smoking/ Anxiety Disorder /

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PERSONALITY
Ophelia is somewhat of an enigma. She could be described as a pessimistic optimist, upholding the notion that it could be worse. Pain is relative and Ophelia has a remarkable ability to convince herself of the absence of suffering, concocting tales and imaginary lives she insists she has lived. The loss of a dollar can be mitigated through the imagining that she traded it for candy she ate and simply forgot about, and the loss of a parent is comforted by the possibility that said parent could have been absolutely terrible. Whilst Ophelia is aware of the truth, she simply chooses to bury it deep beneath piles of self-deception and locked behind chains of flippant disregard. She treats her innate dissatisfaction like a dog, in that her preferred method of solving problems is simply to pretend they don't exist.

Her love of riddles and problem-solving is related to her love of poetry. Ophelia enjoys keeping her mind busy with things that have little to do with herself, or when she does think of herself, she thinks of it in terms of its artistic value. She is not "crying," liquid is merely gushing from her eyes to shatter on her lap. She hides behind art. It is both her vehicle of expression and of suppression, disguising the truth of Ophelia with lilting notes and pretty words.

Although an introvert by nature, Ophelia has trained herself to be an extrovert and is generally good at socialising, even if she'd honestly rather read a book than speak a sentence. Her misanthropy is complimented by a love of adventure and a curiosity not easily appeased. She has a tendency to dive into danger - anything that doesn't involve being immersed in the abyss of emotional baggage.

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HISTORY
Hanne Ophelia Dimanche Bohm, otherwise known just as Ophelia, is the illegitimate daughter of Hanne and Fรฉlix, both third-class citizens. Little is known of Ophelia's biological mother or father since they gave her up to foster care not long after she was born in New York City in circa 1889. Ophelia was just given the name Hanne after her mother, therefore she has no knowledge of her real middle name or last name. Her parents were your average poor, third-class citizens and often fought just to put food on the table for themselves, let alone for a brand new baby. Ophelia's parents gave her to a German family called the Schneider's, paying them to care for Ophelia while they went to work in the city. Unbeknownst to her parents at the time, the Schneider's would often mistreat Ophelia while she was under their care as a young child; Often giving her the task to perform heavy labor in their inn. Under their care, she wore rags for clothing, and had chilblains on her hands as well as bruised and reddened skin. Fear was spread all over her.

Though, the ill-fated can have luck, and a British-German family known as the Bohms visit the inn only to witness the Schneider's mistreatment of Ophelia, as well as the unkindness they show her. After seeing this, the Bohms inform the Schneider's that they would like to take Ophelia with them. Setting a deal, the second-class Bohms pay a heavy amount for Ophelia to the third-class Schneider's and thus Ophelia is freed from years of abuse to her new family.

As Ophelia matured a piece of her mother had been bestowed upon her. She became very beautiful and healthy, with golden hair, big eyes, rosy cheeks, pale skin, and a radiant smile. She began to remember praying for the parents she never knew, the Schneider's as two ugly creatures, and fetching the water for the Schneider's somewhere "very far from the Inn."Being the only daughter of the Bohm household, her parents decide that she is to marry a rich husband and become part of a wealthy family, saving the second-class family from any debt and finally bringing them up the social chain after years and years with no success. Growing up, she had learned that the main goal was to always be rich and look down upon people who were lower then you; Though she didn't always agree. Ophelia agreed to search for a wealthy husband though with one condition: That her parents would allow her to go out and get a job. Having grown up with the Schneider's came with one tiny perk: Learning how to sew and mend clothes for herself. Thus, a seamstress she was destined to be as she set off on a whole new chapter of her life.

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PORTRAYED BY :
Saje

TIME ZONE :
Mountain Time Zone (MT) .

HOW OFTEN DO I POST? :
Often enough.

So begins...

Ophelia Bรถhm'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 Bรถhm 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; 50ยฐC




"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: Ophelia Bรถhm
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#, as written by Saje




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"A queen she is called. Rich with light hair.
Bright like the sun. It shines.
And in her eyes. The deepest sea's
Savage waves are calmed with the batting
of long, dark lashes.
Her lips like pomegranate
Together or apart
Keep a perfectly hidden kiss."

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A stone-cold blue gaze met that of the enormous ship, travelers surrounding it like hungry vultures. She truly understood why people were calling it "The Wonder Ship" just from the mere sight of it. And maybe if Ophelia would let her tiara slip a little, she would be one of the eagerly awaiting passengers bouncing around by the entrance. Yet she remained as still and poised as a watchbird itself.

The silent blonde from New York City was known as a glacial goddess, ice princess, the genteel, ultra-British-mannered lady who seemed stratospherically above reproach, despite flashes in arctic blue-gray eyes that spoke of fire beneath the ice. Though she appeared to ooze wealthiness, she was in-fact a second-class citizen; A rumoured gold digger. She's on a voyage. She is swimming further and further back, up like a salmon, struggling into a mans wallet; Eating money like a slice of meat.

And because she wore no pearls or diamonds around her exposed neck, she stood back as first-class citizens were ushered onto the ship. She chewed on her stained bright red lip as she ran her hands over the soft floral fabric of her dress. Standing behind a wall, watching everyone fit in where she couldn't, to talk behind a gray foggy wall, to live but to not reach or to reach wrong made her stomach flip. She attempted to blend in with the rushed crowd, holding her ticket in a gloved hand. Ophelia didn't want any one to notice that she was a collection of a dismantled almost; A girl who looked like she should be boarding with her rich-of-a-doctor husband with an emerald ring glimmering on her finger, a first-class ticket in tow.

Right now, all she needed was home.

All she ever wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children. She was trying with all her might to lead a conventional life, because that was how she was brought up. Silence bounced, clogged her throat, slaughtering her families trust. It tore cigarettes out of their mouths. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out. All in all, Ophelia was a disappointment. She was the golden ticket to make her family wealthy, and wasn't living up to her promise. She was pretty sure her family didn't even want her to come home.

Home is where the heart is. She knows every grass blade, the furniture placed under the sun. Her heart was heavy and thoughtful, warmer than oil or water. She could name every building and knew the precise time of sunrise. Ophelia loved the way The Statue of Liberty greeted you upon arrival and waved to you goodbye. Even if her family hated her guts, she thanked this ship for being her one and only chance to drift her back home, where she could leave the page of the book carelessly open and the phone off the hook once again.

Ophelia hauled the beige-coloured suitcase at her toes as the second group itched closer to the entrance whilst the first-class continued to move along. She blew a golden strand of hair from her face, struggling to carry the bag full of clothes, souvenirs, and other such things that reminded her of home... along with things she just generally needed on her daily trips. Her tiny figure and scrawny arms didn't help with the fact as she dragged the luggage across the blazing hot cement. Others stared, with the occasional helpful hand coming along but Ophelia quickly shooting any extra help down as she refused to allow anyone to assist her. She straightened her posture once she had hauled herself up the ever-slow moving line. The smell of sea and sweat mixed in her nostrils as she took a steady breath, the feeling of being wedged in the middle of a crowd making her feel uneasy. She stood, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she stared out upon the distance; The future being a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that is to float home.



Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ophelia Bรถhm Character Portrait: Oscar Dawson
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How Oscar had managed to think leaving without a jacket of some sort was a good idea, he had no idea. He had been so excited to get to the ship, he hadn't taken the weather into account. The sun was playing a game of hide-and-seek behind the clouds, and the temperature was a bit colder than the New York airs that he was used to. It had been a bit chillier than his liking the entire time he had been in Europe on his trip. Well, trip was one way to put it. His superiors at NYU had asked him to be a guest lecturer at a few different schools in Europe, though he had no idea why. Oscar had been there for months, and when the Titanic had announced its maiden voyage was to take place just around the time that he was to be returning home? Well, the timing was far too good to be true.

The professor simply wished his father had been here to see this. The ship in front of him was the grandest, most elegant thing he had ever seen. And somehow, he got to be a passenger. Not a first class passenger, no. He wasn't born into the money he had, and he certainly didn't have an endless supply of it. He was renowned enough to live comfortably, with more comforts than his father and mother before him. But that was exactly the point, his father and mother were not well off. So Oscar was looked down upon and spit on as though he had no money at all, no matter how hard he worked. His piercing blue eyes scanned the crowd that he happened to find himself wedged in the middle of. Ahead of him, he saw the first class citizens that would scowl at him if he tried to approach, and all around him he saw the second class that he found himself in. Oscar had heard tell that the ship had been opened up to the third class, but he felt he was too far ahead to see them.

There was an announcement over the loudspeaker, something about the first class boarding first, then the second, and finally the third. Oscar wasn't really particular about what order people went on, so long as he could get inside and find a place to rest his feet. He had been standing all day, and his feet certainly did not appreciate that. Slowly, the giant crowd started shuffling forward, and Oscar edged closer and closer to the ship. He couldn't wait until the second class was finally called. As he moved forward, Oscar saw a rather lovely lady who seemed to have the air of a first class woman, yet she was standing with those of the second class. After making sure his ticket was secured in his pocket, and grabbing his luggage, he made his way over and attempted polite conversation.

"This is quite the ship they have here. Wonder how many time it'll sail before people become tired of it, or make something bigger and better."

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 Bรถhm 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 50ยฐC 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 Cafรฉ 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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Ophelia Bรถhm Character Portrait: Oscar Dawson
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#, as written by Saje




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outfit

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"She belongs to that rarified
atmosphere of Park Avenue.
She is destined for expensive restaurants,
literary cocktail partiesโ€ฆ
Can you imagine her tramping around
with a bum who never has more
than a weekโ€™s salary in the bank?
If she was only ordinary."

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"This is quite the ship they have here. Wonder how many time it'll sail before people become tired of it, or make something bigger and better."

Ophelia turned her gaze towards the sound of a man's voice just as the small pop in her neck indicated she had twisted too sudden. She squinted as the sun struck her eyes before she drifted along with the crowd as they began boarding second-class passengers. Nodding in agreement, a slight smile painted across her features as she hauled here suitcase along.

"Isn't it grand? I even read in the newspaper that it's around 782 feet in length.... or was that 882...." She drifted off in thought as she tried to recall exactly what was written in that miniature black ink underneath a picture of the ship itself on the daily newspaper. The fact failed to make it's trip back in her memory, and as they were quickly ushered along, she lost track of where she was as the crowd seemed to engulf her. Children held their mothers hands and wealthy businessman carried their briefcases all around her as she stepped on board and handed her ticket off. Much to her surprise, there was a quietness in it; No songs, No smells, no shouts. The boat was nothing like she expected it to be, yet everything she knew it would be. There was no sound of traffic or birds. The sounds of strangers voices around her shocked her.

And when she finally made her way into the halls lining old painting and antique designs, she realized she never asked for that mans name nor even got a good look at his face.

***


It was still dark when Ophelia woke up the next morning. She had successfully made it to her room without any problems, changed into her silk pajamas, whipped out some Hermann Hesse poem and soon fell asleep before she knew it -- Book in hand. She hadn't the chance to introduce herself to her fellow roommates, but could sure tell they were there by their heavy breathing as they slept.

Of course, she knew there'd be an exquisite breakfast cafe and of course she was going to get up early to look her best. Second and third class passengers usually weren't allowed beyond the doors, but they weren't going to check everyone, were they? Knowing they were mostly full of the first-class, she knew it wasn't going to be Kumbaya around the campfire either. She knew it was going to be lonely; Despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces they all wear. They were rusty and overwhelming. So why was she sneaking into first-class fun? Because that's what she was taught to do.

The breakfast was thought to be like a express caboose in Paris and Ophelia tried to pick out her best clothes; Mostly to sneak past the borders of security at the doors. At daybreak, she sauntered down the hall with a smug smirk plastered on her face before she bowed her head just as she past the doors entering the cafe area. The place was already booming with people, and she swore she saw someone give her an odd look. Maybe she should of worn a dress to fit in better.

She loved people as a stamp collector loves his collection. Not necessarily to socialize, but to observe. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for her. She observed everything from a cripple, a dying man, a whore. She often regarded her own life with objective curiosity all the time. She grinned as people walked past her, never receiving many smiles back. Ophelia didn't bother finding herself a place to sit -- because wherever she satโ€”on the deck of this ship or at a street cafรฉ in Paris or Bangkokโ€” she would be stewing in her own sour air. She didn't belong. Yet she sighed in appreciation as the smell of fresh food drifted past her nose. She roamed around as people seemed to be spilling in through the doors, stomachs growling with clean pearl-white teeth showing in smiles as they went in for hugs. Breaking free from the growing crowds and mingling, she walked over to a nearby crew attendant behind the counter, cleaning the drinking vessels until they were without a single fingerprint for the passengers.

"Excuse me," Ophelia spoke up with the sweetest tone her voice box would allow her to range to, "Could I get a martini with a twist of lemon?"

The attendant glanced up at her from his work with a furrowed brow. Ophelia was straightening her blouse, not even noticing that he was oddly staring right at her. She finally glanced up, a polite smile quickly spreading across her lips as she caught eyes with the man. He found himself stuttering.

"Miss, we're serving breakfast food at this time." He spoke carefully, as if afraid to anger her with a rather confused look still on his face.

"Can I get a martini with a piece of toast?" She grinned.

And there she was, sipping a martini whilst sitting on a stool. She loved the warmth and the bigness of the room. She could hear the jokes and stories being shared. The drink really had no taste on her tongue and instead just went straight down into her stomach like a sword swallowersโ€™ own sword. Her eyes roamed the crowd before she suddenly spotted a figure in the distance. Ophelia felt her icy eyes widen as she quickly slid out of her chair. The idea of once being well-educated, brilliantly promising; Fading out into an barely nothing made her stop and think about the glamorous picture of a man who she'd been building up to be like, who she hopefully thought cared about her the moment he met her, and all out of a few prosy nothings. She grimaced as any good feeling plummeted whilst she observed the women he seemed to be trying to wrap around his finger. Granted, she couldn't see his face as he was turned away from her, but she could tell it was the same boy -- man -- she knew from long ago. She was soon making her way across the floor; Nearing him as she ran her fingers through her hair with a free hand. She felt like she was in the eye of a tornado, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo. Her mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently. Before she knew it she had gotten too close for comfort and accidentally collided with him, her elbow brushing against his mid-back as she sent him jolting forwards whilst she stumbled over herself. Rather then acting like any other person and apologizing, she couldn't bring herself to react normally as her mouth hang ajar. She then cleared her throat as she spoke with amusement, ignoring the girls who he'd been talking to.

"Oh, look at this. Me tripping over everything and you, well, trifling about. Has anything changed?"



Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage 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: Domonic Drew Castell Character Portrait: Ophelia Bรถhm Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra
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______________๏ผช๏ฝ•๏ฝŒ๏ฝ‰๏ฝ…๏ฝ”๏ฝ”๏ฝ… ๏ผฌ๏ฝ… ๏ผณ๏ฝ๏ฝ•๏ฝ–๏ฝ๏ฝ‡๏ฝ…______________

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    L O C A T I O N : BOAT DECK

    Dษชแด€สŸแดษขแดœแด‡ CแดสŸแดส€ โœง #ea98c6|| Tสœแดแดœษขสœแด› CแดสŸแดส€ โœง dim gray
    xxxxxTสœแด‡แดแด‡ โœง Suite Bergamasque|| Oแดœแด›า“ษชแด› โœง 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.





Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Ophelia Bรถhm Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Abia Crane
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Daisy McGregor


Daisy gaps when she sees the gentleman and the person he grabbed start to play cards. She couldn't hear was they were saying, but it was obvious that's what they were doing. She was quickly brought out of her thoughts when Mrs. Hurst kept repeating her name.

"Daisy? Daily! Is your mind wandering again?" the older woman asked.

Embarrassed, Daisy turned around and replied, "Oh I am so sorry Eliza! What were you saying?"

"I was asking how your sister and her family were."

"Violet is fine. She and Edward are expecting another child soon. Vi is determined to give Eddie a son since she already has two girls. Her doctor thinks she is carrying twins because she's much bigger than the last few pregnancies."

This brought a huge smile to Daisy's face, but Mrs. Hurst could see the inner sadness of her friend. She knew that Daisy wanted to be a mother so badly. It was bad enough when she had the first miscarriage, it was worse when the second one was a still born. Daisy had once told her she thought there was something wrong with her especially with her twin sister being able to carry and give birth to healthy children. The matronly woman's heart went out to her, but she maintain her smile, wanting to keep the blonde in a good mood.

"Well she'll definitely have her hands full than. I am happy that Violet is taking a more hands on approach to motherhood, unlike some mothers I know."

This caused Daisy to giggle. She could not understand why some mothers did spend more time with their children. She understood the need of having nannies and governesses, but for some women to not want to be around their children was just mind boggling. Daisy herself thought of becoming a governess after Michael died, but she realized she'd have to give up her love of traveling, and she simply couldn't do that.

It was at that second, she heard a crash and turned to see a woman who was done as well as a man. The scene caused her to laugh hard, earning several gazes her way. Not wanting to embarrass her friend, she took several breaths to calm down, but couldn't quite stop the giggling. Mrs. Hurst saw the incident too and giggled as well.

"And here I thought these meals would get boring."

"I just hope they're okay. That looked nasty." commented Daisy after she managed to stop giggling.

"It certainly did."

"Well, I am done eating, so I'll go and get some fresh air. Would you like to join me?" Daisy asks as she stands up.

"Afraid not my dear, I am going to get some rest. I will see you later all right?" Mrs. Hurst said as she stood up and gave Daisy a huge.

"Take care." Daisy said before leaving the cafe.

She ended up walking outside back to her section of the ship before spotting someone else. Recognizing that it was her roommate, she approached her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Good day Miss Crane. Enjoying the view?"