Description

Miranda Livingston

Full Name
Miranda Elizabeth Livingston II

Title(s)/Epithet(s)
Professor Livingston, Lady Miranda, Madam Crackpot (A high-larious joke name given by the people. Hardy-har...), The Stellar Professor

Gender
Female

Age
28

Sexuality
"Well well well, aren't you dying to know that now, huh?"

Occupation/Position(s)
Clockmaker, professor of chronological deviations and astrological magnificence. Formerly the appointed astrologer of the royal family.

Nationality
Hails from Faynesse, a port town in Valade that is well known for its exotic exhibitions, grandeur clockwork and human trafficking.

Appearance

A striking... mess. You won't find Miranda putting effort into something as trivial as looking spic-and-span, dressing picture perfect every day because outward appearances are in some way of phenomenal importance to leave a positive impression. No, she has more pressing matters to ponder about than buying a new pair of trousers for the annual occasion that she has tea with someone important (although her relations are usually familiar enough to not push such issues). Truth be told, with her raggedy mop-hair, and second-hand garments that have acquired tears and gashes over its fifteen years of daily usage, Miranda is the impeccable definition of someone who puts more thought into work than her own well-being. She's somewhat underfed, a fact that is emphasized even more by her towering stature compared to most women (if her tomboyish dress-sense didn't already set her apart from the usual flock of madams) something that rarely goes unnoticed by the many judging eyes of her clients.

Personality

Often a point of ridicule and satire, Miranda is named Valade's eccentric whimsy-maker and has been nominated several times for the "Oddball" awards in the category of most improbable hypotheses and zany inventions. There is a certain... levity about the professor that has quite a lot of people on edge and wonder if she isn't just absolute bonkers and biscuits. In truth, Miranda is just open-minded. Far ahead for her time, and taking things as they come. An out-of-the-box thinker that alienates common sense in favour of making dreams a reality. Never, at any point has she begun wearing a cuckoo's nest and pretended to be the stereotypical mad scientist (but people always assume the most pessimistic outcome, I guess). Her thinking is akin to that of an imaginative child, accepting everything as a truth unless proven otherwise. A trait that she values dearly.

Equipment

An abundance of knick-knacks such as a brass pocket-watch, a spy/mangifying glass disguised as a monocle and a satchel filled with scribing tools and astrology charts. But perhaps Miranda's most notable possession is a cane to support her while standing and walking, although rumor has it that the cane is a concealed weapon. Of course, she refutes such mindless gossip as best as she can.

History

"Ships? Flying in the sky? Catching stars? Bwahaha-- That's a sodding rich imagination you've got there, kiddo!"

Quite.

Maybe a bit too much imagination, more than was culturally acceptable, or maybe she was just ahead of her time. People laughed at the man who said he was going to invent horseless carriages, people ridiculed the idea that there'd ever be baubles that could tell the time of day. And look at the present! Trains, clocks... The age of steam has made way for some great inventions, so why is Miranda's idea of catching stars so implausible? Because people ridicule the out of the ordinary, they poke fun of what doesn't conform to the normalcy, but that never brought Miranda down from realising her long life dream to, one day, have a star she could call her own.

As a wee-lass, Miranda found interests in the magical realm of the stars and the moon. Her uncle, who she was left with by her parents, an esteemed clockmaker and local nutcase entertaining the girl's thoughts and affection for what many would claim was a madman's desire. She studied astrology among plentiful other things under her uncle's wing for many years until she set out on her own at the age of sixteen, travelling far and wide and practising her trade wherever she went. Miranda eventually settled down in the capital of Valade, where she set up shop and made connections with several noble families which had gotten her name around fairly well.

At the age of twenty-three, Miranda was given an audience with the king of Valade who had given her an honourable position in the court, and life seemingly went up from there until recent events had forced her to step down from her noble position to prevent smearing the king's reputation. And so Miranda returned to her nomadic lifestyle, meeting familiar and unfamiliar faces who would still talk to her without shame. She has recently returned to the capital upon receiving an invitation of the upcoming ball, a festivity that allows potential suitors to sell themselves to the future king, although Miranda isn't sure why she has been invited...

So begins...

Miranda Livingston's Story

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Setting

Valade

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#2015-02-22 13:44:03, as written by Byte

A cloud of smoke billowed up out of the collective bundle of pipes, accompanied by a unison hiss as the steam engine had succeeded in pulling the array of carts into their final destination: The capital of Valade. Flocks of pedestrians scurried out of their respective carriages and into the sprawling city they went, dragging their baggage behind them like some poor puppy-dog in the hands of anxious owners.

“What's your business, ma'am?” A green guardsman stated to a rather otherworldly persona approaching the post, carrying a whiff of contented glee around them. Presumably the second-hand garb had raised some flags, and the woman was ordered to halt upon arrival. Not that this was an uncommon happening. This was an important time for the capital, after all.

A smile flashed briefly at the young rookie, the whimsical subject contemplating her words before responding in a calm fashion.

“I'm here to- how do you say... tie up loose ends.” A vague answer at best that earned the visitor a sceptical frown from the baby-faced guardsman, prompting her to elaborate almost immediately. “Visiting an old friend, if you're curious.” And with that the child (yeah, the guardsman was that young) gestured his suspect to leave the scene.

Much obliged, no doubt.

Navigation proved troublesome with the many commoners, mainly merchants, hastily making preparations for the arrival of many big names and faces in the feint hope that they'd be exhibiting their merry little trade. Fortunately, the castle was within reach no sooner than one hour of stumbling around the lower-class district, the familiar sight managing to light a sense of nostalgia and wonder as golden beads caught the glimpse of nobility once more after many a year.

“Halt!” Oh, right. More drones keeping watch. “You approach Lancaster estate, state your business!”

A sigh, and then... a nod. “Strangers already? It's only been five years...” A frail hand lifted the dusty old tophat, revealing the dreamy and messy features that overwhelmed the guard with surprise and malcontent.

“Ah...” He a low, rumbling growl. “What are you doing here.” Evidently, he was not pleased with this one's arrival though that did not seem to dither said arrival in the slightest, as noted by the blissful smile in the face of disgust.

She spoke not a single word, merely flashed the guard a piece of paper whose top-right corner was branded with the official royal seal of the Lancaster family. “You? Invited? That's rich!” The guard let out a burst of laughter that, like his words, dripped with sarcasm. “Who says that seal isn't forged?” A valid question, though uncalled for.

“Feel free to confirm with your colleagues over there,” The woman pointed at the men stationed not much further. “I'll wait. The king on the other hand...”

The guard reluctantly stepped aside, he was well aware of the seal's validity, though not before offering; “You may pass, but I'll keep my eye on you... Doomsayer.”

Setting

Valade

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anastasia Victoria Silverstone

Character Portrait: George Lancaster III

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#2015-03-04 20:10:20, as written by Byte

Oh my. Quite the turn up of nobility just to meet the king, well... the would-be king, so supposedly Miranda had misinformed the blockhead guard about who she had an appointment with. Actually, she wasn't entirely sure about that herself. 'Meh. King. Prince. They're all the same high-horse people, aren't they?', probably. Miranda never quite understood the difference, not that she ever cared to remember.

Still, quite the turn up.

Amber eyes carefully inspected the cultural manifestation of queens and princesses out in the back. Daunting, for sure, and Miranda felt that they'd think her a vagabond. And she had picked out her best suit too. This one only had eight tears total. (and she had been especially cautious to blow off all the cobwebs) Such grace was unheard of from madam Crackpot! Hmm, observations had to suffice until proper introductions were made. Besides, she didn't want to mess up on the first day. That'd be most dramatic.

So the professor stood back a bit, careful not to let her tardiness distract the pompous entourage of suitors eagerly waiting to take a bite out of prince charming while she shamelessly judged them from afar as they sauntered into the castle.

Her pondering gaze first fell, predictably enough, on the one lady (if you could even call it that) towering above the others like some sore, muscular thumb it was difficult not to notice her. 'Snow White's turned huntsman, how utterly... terrifying.' If you're into that. And something told Miranda that the prince would prefer a more delicate appearance, rather than a punch in the gut for breakfast. Definitely opened an enticing debate on who'd wear the trousers in that marriage.

A stifled chuckle broke the neutral expression. The thought that this colossal woman was a potential suitor for the prince had amused her, when Miranda briefly pictured the proud Amazon in a frilly wedding dress before the altar.

A hilarious result to be sure, but unlikely.

Next up came a more traditional and dignified character, certainly unique in her presence but ethically pleasing in the eyes of noble circles. Miranda joyfully recalled the young woman's attire to be representative of Austron artificers, a country she had the honour of visiting once. Learn from the best her uncle always said, and where else would you find a more technologically oriented culture?

“The Silver Hand, was it? How nice to make your indirect acquaintance.” The professor's eyes fell on the mechanical limb that the Austron ruler so proudly displayed without shame. 'Tsk, tsk, tsk... Where is the subtlety in that now?' Miranda glared at the woman with an almost obsessive grin, she certainly found the current line up an interesting bunch. Perhaps she'd find entertainment in this charade after all.

The other two, quite frankly, weren't all that spectacular. Not that modesty was wrong, but... you know, eccentricity is the spice of life (or so the saying goes). She did remember a few impressions, like 'Sunhat sure has spunk' and 'Entourage, eh. Going solo, potentially dangerous, but obviously no fussy mothers around to bother you.'. The rest was already accounted for, and had gained Miranda's... so-so interest to actually stay when offered more than plenty.

That said, after the higher class had introduced themselves and drooled all over the poor, poor prince, it was time for the lesser caste to make acquaintances. Well, not that Miranda wasn't nobility (in some countries she still was), but fate decreed that she had given up the official title not too long ago.

“Presenting, Lady Li-” An oaken cane encrusted with black paint gently prodded the herald, a slim finger pressed against her lips as she hushed his words.

“Tut-tut-tut. Spare your breath, dear. The likes of me don't need no introduction, and if the prince has forgotten about little old me? All the more reason to remain silent, yes?” The woman feigned a poor man's Cheshire grin before once again allowing the cane to press against the floorboard as she shambled towards the, apparently, 'bored out of his eye-sockets' prince. They were by no means friends, but Miranda had the pleasure of spending ample hours engaging in intriguing chatter with the Lancaster boy back when she served the royal family. So it went without saying that they, at the very least, were no strangers to one another.

“The gall of some servants... Preposterous, don't you think?” Miranda began, stifling a laugh before she put a halt to her limp-walk only a mere inches away from the carrot boy; A single hand removing the old tophat, prompting the woman's wild hair to literally spring upward into an even messier arrangement.

“Georgie!” So unorthodox. “I'd say how nice to see you again, but chances are you've completely erased my existence from your memories. Royalty tends to disdain my presence, apparently. Weird.” Her thoughts dwindled for a moment, before she creatively added; “Oh, right. I'm ecstatic to attend the coming ball. I will be on my best behaviour while I reside in your humble home... Your Lordship.”

With another pause for breath, Miranda ominously leaned in closer to George. “Psst, you don't happen to know where your father is, do you? I was actually supposed to see him, but I couldn't resist sneaking a peak at your ball and chains to-be.”

Setting

Valade

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#2015-03-06 22:10:31, as written by Dae Mec

“Presenting, Lady Li—”

To George's surprise, the herald was cut off. Well, that's certainly new.

"Tut-tut-tut. Spare your breath, dear. The likes of me don't need no introduction, and if the prince has forgotten about little old me? All the more reason to remain silent, yes?”

The prince watched as a gangly woman in... unusual clothing sauntered down the hall, stopping right in front of him. On top of her wild hair rested a slightly tattered top hat, and a ratty scarf hung from her neck. George glanced at the cane, noting that black paint that coated the end.

“The gall of some servants... Preposterous, don't you think?” She took off her hat, causing her disheveled hair to suddenly become more untamed.

“Georgie!" He blinked twice. Georgie? "I'd say how nice to see you again, but chances are you've completely erased my existence from your memories. Royalty tends to disdain my presence, apparently. Weird.” A slight pause. “Oh, right. I'm ecstatic to attend the coming ball. I will be on my best behaviour while I reside in your humble home... Your Lordship.”

The woman leaned forward, as if she was going to confer some great secret to him. "Psst, you don't happen to know where your father is, do you? I was actually supposed to see him, but I couldn't resist sneaking a peak at your ball and chains to-be.”

He stared at her, confusion etched on his features. After a few second, it struck him like a lightening bolt. "Miranda?" he exclaimed, surprise coloring his words. What was his father's old royal astronomer/the kingdom's resident mechanical genius doing here? His eyes widened slightly in embarrassment. "I-I mean, Lady Livingston. Er. Yes." His father's trusted servant glared at both him and Miranda. "Oh! Um, right."

George rapidly regained his composure. "It's a pleasure to see you again. I'm glad to see you're doing well." His lips twitched upwards, and the servant's glare intensified. "And for princes and princesses, the address is Your Royal Highness." George smiled wryly, glancing at the mollified servant. Under his breath, he muttered, "But I'm sure you don't care." And in a softer voice, he added, "I certainly don't."

He cleared his throat and continued at normal volume. "Father is currently... indisposed." Which could mean anything from a cold to an entertaining lady. But George was half-convinced that his father had simply ducked out of the tedious duty of greeting. "I think he's in the Royal Gardens, though. Probably the private ones, by the residence."

George looked at her with curiosity. "What do you need to talk to him about?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. "And if you ever need to find your room, just ask one of the servants." He paused. "And I'll see you at the ball, I suppose." George hesitated again, and then grinned briefly. "With all the potential balls and chains, of course."

Setting

Valade

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#2015-03-21 12:18:59, as written by Byte

“Right, that was the name.” Eyes seemed to beam surprise as lips curled into a coy smile, the piercing glare from the uptight servant standing beside the two old friends doing little in way of reminding Miranda that she was in the presence of an important figurehead of the Lancaster family tree. Evidently making the woman aware of this was moot, similarly to said presence himself (who was probably growing weary of all this bullshitting).

And then it went to more pressing matter, and something about the crown prince's choice of words left Miranda to wonder if the carrot boy had rather his father take this menial task to welcome the guests. Silence lingered for a moment before the professor commented; “Indisposed, huh? Ever the crafty bugger, isn't he?” Suggesting that Miranda too assumed the king had creatively made excuses, which left poor prince with keeping face. “I'm sure he's busy attending to his... kingly duties, right?” Ha! Yeah, right.

A shrug had to suffice to sate George's curiosity on Miranda's reasons for the audience, although she'd more than likely have told him if it weren't for the extra pair of eyes beside them. And, surely the prince had other things on his mind. “I am looking forward to it, certainly.” Miranda let lose another grin. “Don't drown in the ladies now, George.” She jokingly chastised before giving the young man a two-fingered salute, once again resting her hat on the messy 'do, and sauntering off to find the actual king.

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