Announcements: Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Plato’s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library »

Players Wanted: Looking For A New Partner » Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life Ù©( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players »

0
followers
follow

Monroe Blake

"I guess you could call me the helper of the damned."

0 · 240 views · located in The Providence

a character in “Providence of the Damned”, as played by RPGLoVeR213

Description

Welcome to the fantastically gorgeous profile of Monroe Blake! Just kidding, it's not that great.


Monrovia Alice Parkinson

Monroe Blake

Sixteen

#081395

Image

"Why are we going to the Providence of the Damned?" Her mother held her tight, both of the females afraid of leaving the safe and comfortable city. Her father wouldn't answer any of their questions. He scared her terribly, even before now.

The guards checked them and Father gave the guards a special note. The guards gave them a wicked smile, which made the girl press tighter to her mother. They crossed through the Seperation Wall and into the Governor's Office. He had the same wicked smile, and also let them pass. He scared her more than the guards. How could a man that looked so nice be so cruel. No one seemed to answer her mother's questions.

As her mother became more and more aggrivated, she packed herself closer and closer to the familiar scent of her mother's rose perfume. They finally stopped nearby an alley, and her father turned.

"You hurt me, Alice. You cheated on me, pretended to love me, and expected to get away with it. You can't Alice, you can't!"

The shot. The boom that knocked the six-year-old girl to the ground in pure terror. Nothing passed through her mind but mind-blowing horror. The face of her young mother twisted into pain and stayed there even as she stopped breathing. She shaked, a visible shaking not caused by cold or pain. It was caused by terror alone. Her white dress ripped from a piece of shrapnel sticking from the ground, reminding her of the horrible ideals of this place. Why did her parents take her to the Providence?

"Monrovia," her father started in a hurried tone, looking in each direction before his leaf green eyes focused on her again, "after this, I can't go back to the city." She sucked in a breath. He killed her lovely, charming mother. The cold-blooded murderer. "Why?" She asked, her voice breaking as glossy tears crawled down her face, racing each other to her neck.

He swept her in a hug, which she hit his back. She struggled in his arms, strong locks restricting her lungs. She tried to find air, but it wouldn't fill her lungs. "I'm so sorry Monrovia, I love you Monnie Bear."

She pushed against his chest, trying to get some air. She finally pulled away and fell to the ground. Her head hit the ground and she felt dizzy. "You don't belong here, you belong with me and your mother, Monnie." Her father yelled, grabbing her by the wrist. She bit his arm, a more juvenile thing to do. She then proceeded to run in the other direction. He followed after her, his mind falling into a mad pit of insane ideas and crumbling clingyness. She turned on every corner, trying desperately to find someone.

She ran into a house, running into a young raven-haired teenage boy. He helped her up, confused as the father ran in. "Help me!" She yelled at the boy, jumping onto the long table inside and running across. "That is no way to act, young lady!" Her father bellowed, stuck behind the boy trying to help her escape. He ran beside her, his hand entwined in hers. "Jump now!" He yelled, thrusting them both out the window. "Pretend to be dead." He whispered, watching the father out of the corner of his eye.

The father walked back in the house, and they streaked to the boy's hideout.

They caught their breath inside and she examined the tears in her dress. He scanned her, looking for any damages. "Walk."

"Excuse me?" She was just getting over the inital terror, and was, quite frankly, confused. "Walk for me, ...-" "Monroe." "Poet. I want you to walk for me so I can see if you have a limp." He told her politely, helping her walk from her stooped place by the door. She wobbled, and almost fell. He helped her onto a table, and examined her bare legs. There were pieces of glass from a beer bottle stuck in her foot and her left ankle was twisted. He wrapped it, grabbing her hand.

"I promise, Monroe, that I'll always protect you."

"I promise, Poet, that I'll be there when you need me."


From that moment on, Poet and Monroe started to form Code Black. She met many children alone and needed a person like Poet, and she got to be that person. Poet made many alliances with teenagers and adults alike, since he was now legally an adult.

Even through all the new faces, and all the breakouts and break-ins, Poet and Monroe still remained best friends through their promise and a blood swap one special Christmas.

Even in the Providence, not all are Damned.

So begins...

Monroe Blake's Story