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Ciaran Paine

Will Scarlet

0 · 337 views · located in Essex, Connecticut

a character in “Storybook: A Grimm World”, as played by xarysin

Description

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Image C I A R A N x P A I N E Image
Image "Don't trust anyone, not even me." Image


Image . B A S I C S . Image Image


. n a m e . p r o n u n c i a t i o n . Keer - an

. n i c k n a m e ( s ) . C

. g e n d e r .Cis Male

. a g e . 27

. s e x u a lx o r i e n t a t i o n . demisexual hetero-romantic

. o r i g i n . Nottingham, Enchanted Realm

. r e l a t i o n s h i pxs t a t u s . Single

. o c c u p a t i o n . Contractor/Carpenter

. f a n t a s y r e a l m . Will Scarlet



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Image . A P P E A R A N C E .

. e y e s . Green

. h a i r . Black, short

. h e i g h t . 6'

. w e i g h t .160 lbs

. p h y s i q u e . Muscular but a lithe, small frame

. s k i n . Tan

. s c a r s . Many small slicing scars about his forearms, hands, and torso blamed on his work however the majority being acquired from fighting with blades.

§ . d e s c r i p t i o n . Ciaran is tall and lithe, though muscular from his physical job. His skin is usually tanned from working in the sun often. His hair is usually messy on top and clean-cut on the sides and his face is always covered in stubble. But his most noticeable physical feature tends to be his bright green eyes. His expression is usually of one in deep thought when not interacting with anyone but easily changes to a friendly expression when speaking with anyone he's on good terms with or a sly grin when he's about to try and irritate someone he isn't on good terms with.

He is usually found in jeans, slightly dirtied and stained from work, tee-shirts, a dark red zip-up hoodie under a black leather jacket, and black riding boots. When not driving his old, beatup pickup, he uses his HD Iron 883 motorcycle to get around town.



ImageImage Image . C H A R A C T E R .

. d e m e a n o r . Playful and extroverted around others and especially when under the influence. He's usually in a good mood whether it is genuine or a mask.

. f e a r s .(secretly) Dying alone. Rejection. Abandonment.

. v i c e ( s) . Smoking, drinking, gambling, and occasionally kliptomania

. d i s l i k e s . Injustice and poor treatment of women

. l i k e s . Interesting trinkets, riding his bike, conversation

. f l a w s . Uses humor as a defense. Addictive personality. Steals small shiny things like a magpie. Lies impulsively sometimes.

. m e r i t s . Has a loud conscience and is actually kind and thoughtful.

. s t r e n g t h s .Can fix or build most anything. In the Enchanted Realm he was a master swordsman.

. i n t e l l i g e n c e .Not particularly booksmart or eloquent

. p e r s o n a l i t y . Ciaran likes to flirt even if he's not actually trying to bed anyone and enjoys pushing people's buttons just for a reaction. He tends to drown his thoughts in substances and having fun is important to him. He can easily be annoying to some. One-on-one, however, he can be surprisingly calm and insightful.


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Image . H I S T O R Y .

Enchanted Realm


Will Scarlet was born to a single mother in the Nottingham area of the Enchanted Realm. Will never knew who his father was nor would his mother tell him. Once he was older, he assumed his mother wanted to forget his father didn't exist. He never knew the nature of their relationship; he didn't even know his name. He and his mother were not well off but they managed a meager life with what they needed. That left little to nothing for what he wanted, however. The theft began with food here and there and led to wanting to get things for his mother: a new scarf here, new mittens during winter. Eventually, he got good at it and started picking up things for himself little by little until he had his own sword, a few daggers, leather bracers, packs, and boots.

When King Richard left for the crusades and Prince John stepped in as regent things changed rapidly. There were more guards in town but not necessarily for the protection of the people but rather to protect against those wanting John off the throne. Taxes increased rapidly, collected by the new and corrupt Sheriff of Nottingham. Those with the means to leave did and those who did not continue to suffer within the city, scrounging to pay the absurd taxes. Will's mother couldn't keep up and Will found it harder to steal food. His mother eventually became sickly and passed away. Their small home was taken away before her body was even cold in the potter's field.

Will, with a huge chip on his shoulder, fled the village and took refuge in Sherwood Forest where others before him had gone to escape John's reign. Though this new 'village' in the forest was free from the guards and the Sheriff, they were still starving. A fellow refugee, Robin, started feeding and clothing those most in need, mysteriously coming back with supplies and money from his treks into the forest. When Will had found out where it was coming from, he wanted nothing more than to help.

Eventually being coined Robin's Merry Men, not Will's favorite name, this small band of brothers continued to ensure the people of Sherwood Forest could survive in peace. But Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham were not one's to sit back and continue to let the money and goods being delivered to royal coffers be hijacked. He deemed the people of the forest criminals and sent Nottingham to find and arrest the supposed ringleader, Robin of Loxley.

Robin and his men were able to give the Sheriff chase for a while but eventually, Robin was taken in and jailed, scheduled to be hung publically. Will had began trying to break Robin out when the curse washed over the Forest.




Essex


In Essex, Will, now Ciaran, has memories of growing up in foster and group homes. He has no memories of his parents, being told he was given up at birth by a young mother who couldn't provide for him. He never tried to find out who she was not understanding as a child what it would have taken for his mother to care for him, only that he was given away, abandoned. As he grew into an adult and was shoved out on his own, he began to logically understand her motives and lose much of his anger but that underlying feeling of abandonment remained buried.

Once released by the State, he found himself homeless for a time. He found himself in trouble with the law more often than he'd like, usually for petty theft. Because he usually was only caught shoplifting food items and toiletries, he was usually just let off with a ticket. He was thankful in a way that he was issued tickets rather than arrests but he still ended up in front of judges. No money to his name, those tickets didn't get paid and began to stack up. Understanding C's situation, a judge directed C to a contractor who allowed those down on their luck to work for him to try and get a fresh start.

This man, Mr. Roberts, generously took a 19-year-old Ciaran on to his job site to not only pay him a minimum wage but also teach him skills. After gaining some trust, Roberts even allowed C to stay in a small room above his garage for a small rent he could take directly from C's paycheck. He helped the young man do many other things like setting up a bank account and buy his first car with his wages. Ciaran continued to work for Roberts for 7 years until he retired. Finding himself a bit in the wind again, he found himself a small plot of land for a good price in Essex. When not doing jobs for others around town, he spends his time building a home for himself, living in a small trailer on the property while he builds.




coding x mombie | fc x Alexander Uloom | hex x 6d0404

So begins...

Ciaran Paine's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elena Lux Character Portrait: John Waldmann Character Portrait: Liesl Voigt Character Portrait: Adrien Duval Character Portrait: Grayson Hughes Character Portrait: Lorelei Voigt Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Ricardo Trujillo Character Portrait: Liana Roth Character Portrait: Hugo Lund Character Portrait: Natalya Volkov
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#, as written by mjolnir
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adrien duval
gastonx|xoutfitx|x#960f16

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Adrien's gaze lingered on Liesl as he slowly stepped away. She was a minx, that one. Maybe it was her very sexy dress, or perhaps her forwardness. But something about her vexed him. He would get her in his bed. There was no doubt about that. He didn't wish to make a wife out of her. Women like that were not wife material. They were mistresses at best. The type of women he went to for dirty, borderline violent, sex. The kind that satiated his baser needs. Where women like her sister were the type you married and made babies with. Different ladies for different needs... Like shoes.

On his way to the bar, he was passed by... Priscilla? Patsy? Adrien couldn't remember her name. He probably heard it once. And while the woman was stunning, clearly evident as his gaze trailed down the low V cut of her dress, Adrien hadn't seen her enough to commit her name to memory. "You are looking positively odious today, Adrien." Perhaps he should reconsider.

Adrien smirked and quirked a brow, obviously not smart enough to pick up on the insult within the compliment. He raised his hands to adjust his collar in an arrogant fashion as he responded. "You aren't looking too bad yourself." Just the kind of comment a woman wanted to hear.

With a boost to his ego, because he needed that, Adrien continued towards the bar. He leaned his right arm against the counter and motioned for the bartender to come take his order. "Two glasses of single malt whiskey, on the rocks." While he waited on the drinks, his gaze scanned the crowd.

Officer Hughes wore a suit that looked like it smell of moth balls and it was purchased in the late 80s. He didn't know what was worse about it, that a suit like that once existed or that Grayson had the gull to wear it out in public. Adrien had to fight the urge to sneer at the poor fashion choice and diverted his attention to someone else.

Rather than looking for specific people, his gaze flitted from outfit to outfit, admiring a low cut neckline with a peek of cleavage or an open back. Then a well tailored suit piqued his interest, he stopped for a moment. European cut suits were in fashion and far more flattering than the typical, more loose fitting American suits. His eyes followed the attire up until he saw the face of whomever wore the clothing, perhaps intending to inquire about their tailor. But then his gaze settled on none other than Ricardo Trujillo.

Adrien clenched his jaw while his knuckles went white. He had no intentions of being on the same side of City Hall as that man, regardless or not of his above average fashion sense. The man had money, the least he could do was afford a decent suit. Whatever unrest it gave him seeing another man dressed nearly as well as himself, Adrien found solace in the fact that the local recluse stood alone without a single soul for company. He chuckled at that.

Once the drinks were finished, Adrien scooped one up in each hand and started to search the crowd for Hugo. It was never hard to find his friend, he often could be found wherever the attractive women were, not so different than himself. After a moment or two of not so politely pushing his way past people, he found his friend at the tail end of a conversation with an agreeable blonde. As their talks came to a conclusion, Adrien held up one of the drinks signaling Hugo over.

Free of one of the whiskeys, Adrien slid his empty hand back into his trouser pocket while he sipped from his own glass. "And who is the latest woman on your list?" he asked while subtly nodding his head toward the blonde in question. "Can't say I've met her."




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liesl voigt
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With a substantial bet on the best item up for auction, Liesl had no further desire to linger around the auction tables. Her feet carried her around with no particular destination in mind. She was more of just... watching. She was content walking around, observing the others as they slowly trickled in. She didn't know some of the people in that small town actually knew how to dress nice. Some even had decent bodies under it all.

A few moments passed before Liesl found herself on the far side of the hall, not too far from a particular tall, dark, handsome and brooding man. She did always love when they brood. She scooped up two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and beelined right for him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you 'no one puts baby in a corner'?" she mused as she offered him one of the glasses. "Ricardo Trujillo. You are looking particularly fine this evening,"

Liesl lightly clinked her glass to his before taking a sip. "So," she started to say as she pivoted slightly to stand beside him, allowing herself to see what he did. "What is a handsome bachelor such as yourself doing all the way over here all alone" She raised her brows, curiously, as she took another sip.

Ricardo always seemed to be an enigma in Essex. Liesl remembers the first time she saw the reclusive millionaire. She was surprised he was so handsome. She half expected him to be on the edge of death with a hump back or something. It made no sense why someone that good looking locked himself away from the world. And it was even weirder that he was single. Although, she wasn't entirely sad about it... Not like it would have stopped her from flirting either way.

She tried to follow his gaze and pin point what he was watching... or who. "You know," Liesl broke the silence once again. "Someone as handsome as yourself could have any woman you wanted." She side stepped closer to Ricardo and hooked her free hand in the bend of his elbow. "Essex isn't all bad. There are some decent women here that'd, at least, be good for bedding, if nothing else."

Liesl started surveying the prospective women. The index finger of the hand that held her drink pointed towards Paisley who hung around Liana and Lorelei in the super nice and obnoxiously bubbly girls group. "Paisley's not bad on the eyes, if you have a thing for brunettes. Her outfit is sexy and she has a nice smile." As she spoke the girl eagerly waved her hand in a showy fashion towards John Waldmann. Liesl's eyes squinted just slightly, but not enough that anyone would notice. It was one thing when she flirted with the silver fox, but like a kid when they see someone playing with her toy, she got possessive. "As long as you don't mind competing with Essex's resident dilf."

She looked about the room again until she found another option. "If you're a blondes type of guy," Liesl continued, slowly turning her unwilling company to get a better view of the auction area. "There is a bombsell." She pointed towards a gorgeous blond in a grey metallic dress. "I can't say I know her name though."

Her gaze slowly flitted over to her sister. Liesl wasn't blind, nor dumb. She noticed how Ricardo jumped at the chance to hold the door for Lorelei. There were subtle things she noticed. She wasn't going to spell it out. He didn't need to know that she had a small glimpse into his thoughts, but she was going to test the waters... perhaps stir the pot. Just a smidge. "I guess there's also my sister, if you're into boring homemaker types. I mean... She obviously has a great face." No matter how much she liked to rag on her sister, she couldn't deny that Lorelei was attractive. After all, they were twins. "But where is the spark?"

Liesl shrugged her shoulders unimpressed. She downed the rest of her drink before stepping in front of Ricardo, blocking his view of Lorelei. "Plus, who wants a Saint when you can have a sinner?" She reached up and adjusted his tie. Her hands lingered on his chest as a devious smile graced her lips. "Whoever said blondes have more fun never had a ginger."




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“A swan’s feather?” Liana's voice pulled her out of her own thoughts.

Lorelei glanced over her shoulder toward her friend with a gentle smile. "Quill, actually." She looked back down at the antique writing tool as she spun it between her fingers and thumb. "Not that I know how to use one." Or have money to bid on it. She chuckled softly, setting it back down on the table. "Maybe Paisley should get it. She's the writer, not me."

Speak of the devil. The bubbly brunette made her way over to the pair. "Good evening! Don't you two look absolutely ravishing!"

The blonde smiled, looking between the two girls. "Speak for yourselves," Lorelei jested with a lighthearted tone. "I got a lecture from Mr. Duval before coming here... About how exquisitely wrong my dress is." She raised her brows in that silly way she did whenever she recounted the numerous stories about Adrien. Neither of the other girls were new to the stories of Lorelei's employer, yet somehow she always had more. Things were never dull working for him, that's for sure.

As the girls stood there chatting, Lorelei's gaze began to wonder, similarly to Paisley. She knew most of the people that had attended the auction, although there were a couple of new ones as well. She didn't realize the event was open to the general public, but it was nice to see new faces. Charity events didn't need to be exclusive to the rich. It made her happy to see that Mrs. Picket knew that. The woman did always seem to be nice with a warm disposition. After all, Lorelei was there and she had nothing to offer but her time. Some might frown upon that, but the hostess didn't.

Eventually her gaze found its way to Ricardo, who lingered in a far corner like a gargoyle. He stood alone like he often did. He never seemed like the most social person, so it was surprising for Lorelei to see him at such an event. Their encounters were usually a brief smile while sitting on opposite sides of the library. That was an easier place to be unbothered, unlike a charity auction. But he didn't seem miserable. Her hand raised just slightly by her side to offer him a small wave with a friendly smile. But it seemed the moment she did, Liesl stepped into view, demanding the man's attention. Lorelei sighed softly as her smile faded and her hand fell to her side.

Her attention returned to her present company just as Paisley waved at John Waldmann with... vigor. Lorelei couldn't help but laugh softly as she looked between her and Liana. "What was that?" She teased. "Don't tell me your crushing on the local hot dad?" She asked in a hushed tone, not wanting to draw extra attention to her friend. Sure, girls loved to gossip but Lorelei wasn't mean. She'd never try to make Paisley embarrassed by alerting the world about her crush.... That's something Liesl would do, not her.

"Just don't go crushing on Adrien or I'll have you committed." Lorelei laughed, playfully nudging Paisley. Crushes happened. Everyone had them. She was just waiting on her friend to spill, because, obviously, this was far too good to leave out any details. "Oh come on, don't make me beg. Liana already has the dreamy fiancé. Let me live vicariously through you."

Then for a brief second, she let her gaze flit back to Ricardo. Not only was Liesl still there, but her hands were on his chest, messing with his tie. Lorelei looked up toward his eyes for just a moment, but when his gaze met hers she quickly looked away. She shouldn't be surprised. Liesl always went after the prettiest shiny toy. It was like a personal conquest for her to go after anyone who might be nice to Lorelei, especially a man. She shouldn't be surprised. It was only a matter of time. But it didn't make it easier. Liesl always had to try and steal the spotlight. Lorelei was just lucky enough that Liesl hadn't be able to manipulate Liana or Paisley away from her.




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grayson hughes
robin hoodx|xoutfitx|x#99bfaa

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Shortly after writing down his bid, Grayson felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to find John Waldmann moving to stand beside him. "I doubt that's going to be anywhere close to as useful as your sidearm, mate."

Grayson chuckled and shook his head. "Dad jokes, really?" His gaze drifted over toward the hunting knife that caught John's attention. "But a knife is very useful for a P.I., right?" They both smiled and laughed. It was nice. Gray had felt so focused on work recently that he couldn't recall the last time he got to relax. He was trying. Although he probably looked more like a zombie than a functioning human. Baby steps.

"How is the old workplace doing anyway? Frank still running the joint and handsomely getting paid or have you managed to finally make a change? Because frankly, I couldn't be bothered trying to fix that damn place."

He sighed. "New day, same shit. Unfortunately." Grayson raised his right hand to rub his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's hard to get anything else done when I'm the only cop who actually works." He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Someday though."

As Grayson adjusted how he stood to face John, he looked over and saw a small group of women a few tables over. Lorelei, Liana and Paisley. His gaze lingered on Liana, for just a moment before Paisley waved at him. He smiled and gave her a small wave back. She was a nice girl, got herself into a little more trouble than she could handle, but she meant well. Luckily enough, he seemed to always have good timing and was able to help her out. It was something. Probably the most police like thing he has done in awhile. It made him feel useful, which he was thankful for.

"Two hundred dollars?!" Ciaran blurted out from behind him just as he dropped his bid into the appropriate box. "Wouldn't your gun be more effective?"

Grayson sighed, annoyed. He turned slightly to face Ciaran, his facial expression less than amused. "Did you miss the 'silent' part of silent auction?" He tried not to look around but he could feel the lingering gazes. Whether or not he wanted people to know what he was bidding on or how much, it was out in the open. Whatever hopes he had at winning the bow was shot down considering anyone who wanted it enough knew they could bid a penny higher and win it. "I guess I'll need to look for something else then," he concluded before heading to another table.

He slowly paced alongside the tables, looking over each of the items. There were some interesting things... Some weird. Grayson had nearly given up finding anything else, when he saw a small glimpse of a green hat from behind Liana. He slowly approached, trying not to eavesdrop or interrupt the conversation. Gray gently placed a hand at the center of her back, silently letting her know he was sneaking behind her to look at something. He dared not put his hand too low or let it linger, not wanting to be inappropriate or make her uncomfortable.

"Sorry ladies, I didn't mean to interrupt," Grayson apologized. When Liana's gaze met his, he smiled. "You look... nice." He caught himself before saying something out of line. Beautiful. He wanted to say beautiful. But knowing his luck, Greg would be right there when he said it. The last thing he wanted was to get a black eye in front of the whole town. So he settled for nice and feeling a bit like an idiot.

Before he could embarrass himself further, Grayson shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his attention to the green hat that originally caught his attention.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: John Waldmann Character Portrait: Liesl Voigt Character Portrait: Grayson Hughes Character Portrait: Lorelei Voigt Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Ricardo Trujillo Character Portrait: Paisley Lawrence Character Portrait: Olive Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Liana Roth Character Portrait: Ben Thompson
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John Waldmann
The Huntsmanx|xOutfitx|x#27352C

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John watched closely as Grayson described the state of the police station. The place was corrupt under Frank's leadership and they both knew it but only Grayson was determined to make a difference, that determination was what made John respect him. If Jane hadn't died back then maybe they would've worked alongside each other to end the corruption but sadly that wasn't the case.

He had to protect and provide for his family and if he had walked down that path he may have put them in jeopardy. He couldn't risk leaving his children without a father so he chose to walk away from that life and pursue a more financially rewarding occupation and started his own private investigation firm. There were still risks but he was less likely to face the business end of a weapon as a civilian.

"New day, same shit. Unfortunately." As Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose John nodded knowingly. "It's hard to get anything done when I'm the only cop who actually works . . . Someday though."
John smiled and hoped that Grayson was right, for his sake at least, but he doubted anything would change.

As Grayson's eyes were drawn away John followed his gaze, seeing a group of women a few tables over. John recognized most of them, you tend to in a small town. He was most acquainted with Paisley, the two had met and befriended each other after John recognized her as Jane's favorite author. Paisley was embarrassed initially because of the content of her stories, which John would make light jokes of, but their friendship grew to the point John trusted her enough to leave his children in her care.

Seeing Paisley waving while jumping up and down brought a smile to John's face. He found the scene both funny and charming, wondering if she had written anything like that in one of her novels. John waved back and gestured that he would come over later. While doing so he noticed Liana, the local veterinarian.

There was something about her that drew his gaze but he couldn't quite understand why. The two didn't interact much aside from in passing, as she was in Paisley's circle of friends, but whenever they did he could sense something similar to the feeling he had with Nora, some sort a familiarity. He questioned that feeling but his instincts had proven to be quite reliable so he couldn't help but wonder why he felt such feelings.

"Two hundred dollars?!" The exclamation of the person next to John drew his attention. "Wouldn't your gun be more effective?" The person who asked Grayson a similar question to John's earlier one was a local contractor and carpenter, Ciaran Paine. John didn't know much about him aside from what he learned from Grayson and from observing him while they were both in the bar. He seemed like a good enough guy despite his past troubles with law enforcement.

He watched as Grayson was unamused by his friend's comments on his bid and walking off to view items on other tables. Ciaran looked apologetic as he said he was sorry before Grayson walked away. John felt a little sorry for both Grayson and Ciaran but didn't voice his opinion, the two were close so they would settle it among themselves. He was about to comfort Ciaran and strike up a conversation with him until he saw his eyes drawn towards a sword and dagger and also walking away.

John was a little concerned about both people leaving him in a social gathering. Weren't people suppose to socialize and make meaningless small talk at such events? Why did they both not want to engage in such conversations with him? He wondered if there was something off about him, checking his clothes and smelling his body and breath, but he couldn't find anything that would make people walk away from him. It was probably because of their short interaction but John still wondered if he had done something wrong.

His cellphone began to vibrate in his suit jacket, so he pulled it out and looked through his messages. The text he just got was from his Sam, reminding him to bring her back something and that she wanted cookies and cream ice-cream. He replied with a short message saying that he might and that they should bother uncle Ben later during the week, to which he received a series of emojis he couldn't translate. Children and their hieroglyphs.

After messaging his children John looked to see if Nora had replied, she hadn't. John found it strange that she wasn't at the gala and that she hadn't replied but thought better than to bother her needlessly about it. She was a very capable person and she probably wouldn't like being nagged to death. Still it bothered him that she wasn't answering and he wondered if he should visit her place afterwards.

Putting his phone back into his suit jacket, John looked around among the guests and thought about who he should approach. He thought about approaching uncle Ben but thought he shouldn't tease him at the moment, he would do that later with his kids. There were a few people he didn't recognize that he could possibly introduce himself but John preferred to observe people before trying to befriend them. He then remembered he already promised to talk with Paisley earlier so he decided to walk towards the large group that was forming around her.

When he arrived their group had expanded to six, including the reclusive millionaire Ricardo Trujillo. John had always been curious about Ricardo, wondering why he chose to live reclusively. There were a few rumors surrounding him about how he obtained his wealth and because he barely interacted with people outside his circle but John didn't think much about such rumors. He didn't have the need or desire to look into whether or not any of those rumors were true and as long as it didn't bother John, his friends, or his children, he would leave the man alone.

"Grayson - like the suit." Looking at Grayson's suit John couldn't help but think that Ricardo was joking. Ricardo then smiled and addressed the ladies, saying, "You ladies are looking lovely tonight." That was something they could agree on, all of the women tonight looked beautiful.

Whenever such thoughts entered his mind however John couldn't help but think of his late wife, Jane. He missed his wife dearly and thought about her every day. His in-laws had advised him to move on, saying Jane wouldn't want to see him suffering without her, but whenever he thought about it he thought he was betraying her. After a couple years John had started to date but he felt conflicted. He didn't know if he could love someone as much as he should because of his love towards his late wife and he didn't think that was fair to them.

After Ricardo's comments, John couldn't help but see Liesl behind him. She didn't look pleased but she was usually good at restraining her emotions so maybe he interpreted her look wrong. Her eyes were watching Ricardo and Lorelie closely, especially when the two touched. John pretended to not see anything and tried to draw Liesl's attention, giving her a less than subtle wink. He didn't know what happened but he felt like she needed some form of comfort.

"Anything interesting?" John could think of several things but perhaps this wasn't the event to bring up old investigations and the dirty secret lives of others. Besides, it looked like much more interesting things were about to transpire here tonight.

John walked towards Paisley, nudging her slightly with his elbow and saying, "Maybe this isn't interesting to everyone but I was wondering about your next novel. Is it going to be just as 'steamy' as the last and if so who is going to be the titular characters?" He then looked towards Liana and Grayson. "Maybe it's about a couple who can't be together because of extenuating circumstances . . ." John then looked towards Liesl and Lorelie. ". . . Or perhaps it's about a love rivalry between identical twins."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: John Waldmann Character Portrait: Grayson Hughes Character Portrait: Lorelei Voigt Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Ricardo Trujillo Character Portrait: Paisley Lawrence Character Portrait: Olive Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Liana Roth Character Portrait: Ben Thompson
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#, as written by Caille
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Olive 'Liv' Fitzgerald
Wendy Darling | Outfit | #6ab6d9


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Liv knew that Ben wouldn’t disappoint when it came to alcohol in a flask. Although she hasn’t lived in Essex her whole life like quite a few residents have, and neither has Ben, she could safely say he was like one of her brothers. He was an easy target and a predictable one at that.

” Do I look like I work here? Fuck off.” Liv stifled a small laugh covering it with her hand to be a bit more discreet. “Now now, don’t ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to. Because I could have sworn you looked identical to the waiting staff here.” It was a low blow, but if they were going to fight her verbal fists were coming out.

Her hands clutched at the flash as her other hand twisted open the top part. She heard Ben saying that she could take a sip and she rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, Benny.” Liv said as she then lifted the flask up and poured some of the contents down her throat. It was definitely more than a sip, but the light burning sensation that flowed down her chest was just enough liquid encouragement to make this sort of event bearable.

The redhead closed it and handed it back to Ben. ” Think the bar’s that way, bet they have all the fruity drinks you can get your hands on. Probably water the shit down, though.” Ben commented and she saw the direction he was pointing in. She would probably find her way there but scoffed at the thought of fruity drinks. “If I wanted a spiked punch, I would sneak into the prom.” Liv was close to having zero patience left, but that was when Ben announced his leave.

”I didn’t come here to talk to you.” the words echoed in her head, but left as soon as they registered. “Have fun, be safe! Don’t do anything Liv would do!” She said teasing him one last time as she saw him sneak off into the crowd. She was clearly amused with herself and had no thought on how others even looked at her.

"Why do you let him speak to you like that?" Liv was about to turn on her heel and make it to the bar. A classic rum and coke were speaking to her, but none of that paint thinner white rum crap, a good smooth Cuban rum or any spiced dark rum would do. At the last minute, someone else came up to talk to her.

Liv turned to look at him, she knew him from around town, and she looked him up and down. “Excuse me?” She laughed a little bit while shaking her head. “I’m not some proper lady that needs to cover my ears from profanity for one, for two the words I say to Ben are much worse and you may want to check in on him rather. Lastly, a good ol’ bant never hurt anyone.” She said with a bit of a smirk crossing her face.

The ginger would be damned if she was put in the shoes of some helpless woman who couldn’t defend herself. She had no time to pretend to be stupid to get the male attention, it wasn’t worth it. She could see his subtle clues to checking her out, and although Liv didn’t care she may as well cause some chaos about it.

“Now, I am absolutely parched, I’m headed to the bar to get a drink. You can either stare at my ass while I leave and be wishful the whole evening or you can accompany me and maybe you’ll get beyond the wishful part.” She said with a small grin, as none of her words were hostile with Ciaran, and she had just been quite open with him, throwing the ball back in his court.

Liv turned so her back was facing him and she looked over her shoulder to him, “I’m going to start walking now. If you’re not next to me by the time I get to the bar, I won't be offended, but I will assume you’ve decided to be wishful tonight.” She said with a light laugh and turned her head back to face the front as she sauntered off towards the bar.





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Liana Roth
Snow White | Outfit | #7b678a


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Talking with Lorelei and focusing on just the two of them helped with some of her anxiety tied to this event. The charity was something that Liana and Greg usually did together, but he was working late tonight with surgery, so it was best if one of them showed up and the other would trickle in later.

Liana was thankful that Lorelei wasn’t off in the clouds with her thoughts and she got a reply back. She listened to what she had to say about the swan quill while browning items on the auction table herself. "Quill, actually." She heard her friend specify and she nodded, making note that not much had drawn her to bid money on, but she knew she would have to find something.

"Not that I know how to use one." followed along with the words that maybe Paisley should acquire the quill instead caught Liana’s attention away from this green hat she had been staring at.

“Lorelei, I think if you are holding it and viewing it, you want it. Just bid on it. You can always have it on display instead of using it.” Then she leaned in a bit closer for only Lorelei’s ears and talked quietly, “I can cover some of your bid, don't worry about it.” She said and knew her friend probably would refuse the help, but she had to make sure she at least offered it.

As Liana turned back around to place a bid on the green hat, she wrote her number down and just put a small bid for now. She didn’t want to deter anyone from bidding on something they would like and she’d honestly probably bid on a few things.

It was only a few seconds later that she heard another voice, "Good evening! Don't you two look absolutely ravishing!" and she could only recognize it as Paisley. A smile formed on her face as she noticed the absolutely stunning dress she was wearing. It had a deep neckline, but Paisley rocked it. “Are you looking in a mirror, Paisley? Look at you!” The brunette exclaimed as she gestured to her friend. “It is classy but still very flirty.” Liana’s smile dipped a little as she heard what Lorelei was saying about Adrien. Her eyebrows knitted together as she sighed.

"I got a lecture from Mr. Duval before coming here... About how exquisitely wrong my dress is."

“Do not listen to that wretched man, your dress is beautiful, but only someone like you could make it shine the way it does.” Liana said, being very sincere. She hated the way Mr.Duval treated Lorelei, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.

Liana’s eyes scanned the room, until out of her peripherals she could see Paisley waving at someone until she heard her say his name. Her eyes met with John’s and sure she knew about him and knew he was in town, but she never really interacted with him much. There was a strange feeling she got when she looked at him, part of her felt fear but also a relief. There was a sense of familiarity when looking at his eyes, but she decided to ignore that.

"Oh come on, don't make me beg. Liana already has the dreamy fiancé. Let me live vicariously through you." to this Liana laughed, but then spoke up, “Lorelei, stop living through people and live for yourself a little.” She teased before she was startled a little bit by a hand being gently placed at the center of her back.

Immediately her head turned to look over her shoulder, she knew it wasn’t Greg, but she was surprised to see Gray.

"Sorry ladies, I didn't mean to interrupt," Grayson apologized. When Liana's gaze met his, he smiled. "You look... nice." She could feel her heartbeat a little faster at the mention, but she nodded and mumbled a thank you before speaking, “you look quite nice yourself, I like the suit.” She said softly before turning her head back to see Ricardo.

"You ladies are looking lovely tonight." He mentioned not before complimenting Gray. Ricardo was a good guy and was a true gentleman, Liana didn’t have anything negative to say from her own experience.

"Anything interesting? ” he asked, and Liana took this as her chance to maybe help Lorelei live a tiny bit. “Lorelei was just looking at this swan’s quill. I’ve been trying to convince her she should get it, what do you think of it?” She asked, gesturing to the quill in Lorelei’s hand.

What Liana wasn’t prepared for today were the words that fell out of John Waldman’s mouth when he was talking to Paisley. "Maybe it's about a couple who can't be together because of extenuating circumstances . . ." why was he looking towards her and Gray? Is that what people thought? Did Greg think anything more of it? Liana could feel herself getting warm and flushed. She needed to be graceful about this if she were going to sneak out.

Liana laughed about John’s suggestions before adding in something of her own, “Perhaps it's more of an adventurous story. Paisley loves adventures.” She said, noting that she didn’t end up making a funny suggestion as she could have. Liana began to slowly drink the rest of her drink before just drinking the rest and setting the glass down.

“If you all will excuse me, I believe I’m in need of a new drink and I might check out the rest of the night's activities.” She said and bowed out. That situation was turning into way too many people for her comfort.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Peter Llewelyn Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Olive Fitzgerald
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    peter llewelyn
    peter pan | outfit | #1C815A

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It was three in the afternoon before Peter finally woke up, his head pounding and vision swimming. He pulled himself out of bed with a groan, stumbling through the living room and into the kitchen. It was a small apartment, a humble studio situated right in the heart of Essex nightlife. It was only a stone’s throw away from The Siren, perfect for someone like him without reliable transportation. Popping open a bottle of ibuprofen and turning on the tap, he swallowed four of them down, chasing it with a gulp of water he drank right out of the faucet. He shut his eyes tight as he stood at the sink, focusing on the sound of running water just to avoid throwing up his pain killers. It was too bright in his kitchen, but compared to the hole in the wall he slept in, his whole apartment was too bright. Black out curtains would be a good investment if he trusted himself to get up at all without the sun to do it for him. Having it streaming into his place meant he wasn’t late to work as much anymore, and he didn’t want to lose this job just yet.

Finally turning off the water, Peter dragged himself back into the living room, picking up his phone that he’d left on the coffee table. Three missed calls from Minerva Moreau and several texts: one from the attorney, one from his parole officer, and quite a few flirty “hmu”s from past one night stands. He ignored the latter, mostly because he couldn’t bring himself to try and remember all those phone numbers and who they might belong to. His parole officer left him a curt message, telling Peter that he’ll be expecting an update from Miss Moreau about his attendance at the gala tonight. Moreau’s text was more or less the same, asking him if he’d like for her to pick him up on her way there this afternoon.

Doesn't this bitch know when to quit? Why'd she even ask him go to this stupid shit? She'd even gone so far as to use one of Peter's paid days off, leaving him with no excuse but to go. She was a meddling little cunt and real pain in his ass.

    Most of the time Peter could tolerate the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed defense lawyer, but not when he was this hungover. They first met when she was working pro-bono on his physical assault charge. He’d gotten into a little disagreement with his dealer — not that the judge needed to know who the guy was — and Minerva had helped him get away with just a slap on the wrists for defending himself. Ever since then she’s made it her personal mission to keep him out of trouble and out of prison. Peter didn’t know if she just wanted some dick or she just really got off on ‘helping people’ but he was getting tired of her shit. If it was the former he’d screw her brains out just to get some fucking peace. It wouldn’t even be hard, it wasn’t like she was ugly.

    Pushing thoughts of his lawyer aside, Peter dropped his phone on the couch and returned to the kitchen for something to eat. He needed something fatty and greasy and quick, something to take the edge off of this damn migraine he’s been sporting. Bacon and eggs was really all he had so it would have to do, and he brought it back into the living a few minutes later. He sat in front of the tv and stuff his face, enjoying a few hours of solitude before he’d be forced to interact with a bunch of stuffed shirts and pompous assholes. The only downside to sitting down and watching old cartoons was that it made time go by way too quickly for Peter’s liking. He dumped his dishes in the sink before trotting off to the bathroom, taking a quick piss and then hopping in the shower, his headache having been reduced to a dull roar.

    His suit for the evening hung from his clothes rack, picked out by Minerva herself. She’d bought it for him, the daft bitch, spending more money on him to go to the stupid charity ball than she did for herself. Maybe that’s why she was so interested in going to this damn thing. It wasn’t like she wasn’t familiar with charity, after all. With a scowl he got dressed, running his fingers through his wet hair to push it back and out of his face, apathetic to how it’ll turn out once it dries. If Minerva has anything to say about it she could go to hell. She’s lucky he even bothered to come to the damn thing. Well, she wasn’t lucky. Apparently his parole officer would get him into trouble if he didn’t end up going. He didn’t care about getting in trouble, far from it. What he cared about was going to prison. There wasn’t much freedom in there, and the very idea of being cramped up in a cell all day made his skin crawl. So he’d go to this thing, he’d make sure Minerva sees him there, and who knows… maybe he can manage to stir up some trouble, or maybe trouble will end up finding him.

    Half an hour later, Peter found himself in front of City Hall, hands buried in his pockets and hair windswept from the breeze. He begrudgingly walked inside, his eyes heavy lidded from the marijuana he’d smoked on the way over. An old woman was greeting everyone at the door when he walked in. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite place it. She probably worked here, which would explain it. This wouldn’t be his first time in City Hall, not by a long shot. As the hag shook hands and smiled with the people walking by, Peter made an attempt to push past the crowd, wanting to avoid running into the peanut gallery if he could manage it. A voice stops him almost mid-stride, but it’s the change in tone that has him turning around to face Mrs. Picket.

    “Mister Llewelyn,” she repeats, closing the space between them and offering a gloved hand. Her tone is much more serious than it’d been before, her gaze colder now that he was looking at him than it had been when she looked at the other guests. “I’m glad you came, we’re happy to have you here.”

    Peter’s grin was ruthless, like he’d caught her in a lie but didn’t care to call her out on it. “Sure you are,” he doesn’t shake her hand, keeping them in his pockets, “Is it an open bar?”

    Mrs. Picket retracted her hand and took out a piece of paper, “Yes it is, just show them this number.” she says, knowing that she needed to lie in order for him to take it. “That’s also the same number you’ll use if you want to bet on anything. It’s a silent auction and all the proceeds for this evening go to charity. I’ll announce the winners at the end of the night.”

    “Yeah sure, whatever,” Peter takes the number and pockets it, immediately turning on his heel and walking away without so much as a goodbye. He doesn’t see her look of disapproval, nor does he care, his gaze sweeping across the floor at all of the familiar faces. Minerva is the first one he sees because she’s really the only one he’s looking for, watching as she window shops at the auction table. Peter rolls his eyes in exasperation, intent on going over to her, but then his peripheral catches sight of a familiar head of bright red hair.

    Sure enough there’s Olive Fitzgerald, standing at the bar with some bearded dude he’s seen once or twice at Moreau’s office. That… handyman guy. Deciding he’ll find Moreau later and assert his presence, Peter makes his way to the bar in a confident stride, his smile like that of a cat that got the cream. Seeing Liv here was a promising turn of events. After all, she was one of the very few people in this town that he could actually consider a friend. His hand makes contact with her first, splayed across her lower back, and he situates himself right behind her.

    “As if that cocksucker needs anyone else’s money,” Peter comments on something the beard had said as he’d walked up to the bar. He makes brief eye contact with the man before turning his attention to the bartender, “One gin and tonic for me, a rum and coke for the lady, and-...” looking over at the handyman with a leering gaze he asks, “What about you, handsome? How’s about I order you another beer when you’re done?” Peter winks at the man, knowing he probably isn’t even gay and feeling an obscene amount of amusement at the discomfort he might have caused because of it.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Olive Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Minerva Moreau Character Portrait: Hugo Lund Character Portrait: Ben Thompson Character Portrait: John Carpenter
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#, as written by mombie
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J O H N x C A R P E N T E R
f l y n n x r i d e r
#19444c || Outfit || Location

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If anyone could be unfashionably late to a party, it would be John Carpenter. He didn't want to come and deal with all of the personalities. They got on his nerves. He wasn't even sure that his only friends, the local asshats of Essex, would even be there. Ben and Peter. Naturally. Who else could he be talking about? Adrien was just all money and arrogance, and any man could do that. John preferred a specific type of crew - one he could get into some trouble with, maybe share a few sidepieces with. If you know what he means. Hah!

He didn't have a variety of clothing, so jeans, a white t-shirt, and a casual coat would do just fine. He didn't have to be formal. He was just going to go and see if his favorite ladies were available because his friends certainly would not be. He looked at himself in the mirror as he ruffled up his dirty blonde hair. Wait? If his pals were not going to be there, would the town's hottest women be there, too? Hmm, he hadn't considered that.

He shoved his feet into the closest pair of shoes, stuck his wallet (that is mostly for show) into a pocket, and burst out the door of his apartment. He hopped and skipped down the steps, going so far as to slide down the railing on his hiney before jumping off like a juvenile.

He walked to City Hall since Essex wasn't a very large place, so the trek wasn't arduous at all. He didn't own a car as he didn't work far from his own apartment. Now that he thought about it - did anyone actually have to drive in this place? He shrugged at the thought and pushed the door open once he arrived at his destination. He went through the whole greeting with Mrs. Picket, got his number, and blah blah blah. Everything was pretty rushed as he was only here for the ladies.

Speaking of ladies - he did see that fiery redhead, Liesl, but she was already "dancing" with Hugo. If one could call that dancing, honestly. He gave Hugo a thumbs up and a stupid grin. He walked through the grand hall, and as he walked past Ben, he gave his friend a hard and playful slap on the ass. Yeah, he could do that. Walking backward, he gave the man his best finger gun gesture "Lookin' good, my man!"

He noticed Doctor Fines, of course, "Yo, Doc?! We still on for Friday?" He didn't stick around long to await an answer. Naturally, but the good doctor was probably used to it by now. Working with the town's worst men couldn't have been easy on the old man. The court agreed that he could function out in the world so long as he went to therapy, so that was that. John didn't have any real problems that he cared to unearth. He was just going to get some hours under his belt without knowing that the law actually needed the doctor's okay to keep him out of jail.

He could have stopped at Ben, but he already pinned a lady down with his predatory attention. Without a word of warning, he slipped behind Minerva. He knew that he crawled under her skin like some sickening infestation, but honestly - he also knew she sort of liked it. It was like one of those classic and cliche romance stories. You know - the lawyer always hanging out with the scumbag in what is bound to manifest in love or something. John would just settle for sex, but you see - she doesn't bite. It was a little frustrating, he won't lie.

He practically moved his head over her right side; his chin nearly being cradled by that soft slope where the neck met her shoulder. Some of her hair brushed along his face, but he didn't mind so long as he was being utterly intrusive. This all happened rather quickly as well, and once she was deep in thought regarding the item she bid on, he spoke, "You know, I just don't see you as the dagger type." He grinned at that and reached toward the table with one of his hands.

It just so happens that some raggedy-looking satchel caught his eye. It was leather, genuine - he could tell. Used; very well used, he guessed. He didn't know what was so special about it, but he stepped forward and unabashedly pressed himself right into the woman as if she were in his way. He was kind of a pig, so it shouldn't surprise her that he'd do something that so clearly violated her right to not have men sexually harass her. He used his desire to write his number down and a measly bid of twenty-five big bucks as an excuse to intrude on her person.

There were certain things he would not do because he did have some respect for women. He called these... minor transgressions, even if they were not so minor to them. Minerva was pretty. Not hot like Liesl or Liv... or even Nora (where was she anyway?), but she was hard to get and that was a little exciting.

Alas, he eventually backed off of her because - let's face it, he'd never get anywhere. It was a waste of his energy, and he didn't want to go home with an itch that he'd have to scratch himself. That would be unfortunate. He winked at her and retreated backward quickly, whether he was smacked or not in the process wasn't up to him. He turned around and fled for Peter because now Minerva had a dagger in her hand, and well - maybe he needed a little more distance.

He found himself at the bar next to Peter, clapping a heavy hand onto his friend's shoulder in a half embrace. His blue-eyes gaze flit toward Liv with an all-too charming smile that was bound to get him slapped a time or two by the time the night's over, "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

Yeah, that would do. The grin plastered on his face was absolutely shit-eating. Who could fucking blame him? If this stupid town had more ugly women, he wouldn't be in so much trouble all of the time! But there are none. They are all perfectly hot and none are willing to sleep with him. Except for Liesl, and while that was always a good time, he needed to add a few more notches on the headboard. Seriously.

He didn't even notice that Ciaran was there. Eh, John would hit on a girl even if her husband was there with her, so it didn't bother him at all.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Peter Llewelyn Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Olive Fitzgerald Character Portrait: John Carpenter
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Olive 'Liv' Fitzgerald
Wendy Darling | Outfit | #6ab6d9


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She had gone off in the direction of the bar, and by the time she had made it there, Ciaran had met her there. He didn’t order her a drink, but she was fairly sure he was intimidated now and wanted to play his ‘cards’ right. He started asking if she had looked around at all and she shook her head, No not really.” She said with a shrug. She meant to at least go glance at everything, but she got a little preoccupied.

“I feel like it could be the remains of a garage sale and someone decided people would buy the rest of the scraps if it were for charity.”Liv had only seen glimpses of what had been on the tables, and nothing really gained her interest yet and she didn’t really care who the money went to, but she would take a look later, right now she was focused on just having fun.

Part of Liv felt she didn’t even know what kind of conversations she and C would have. Sure they talked some at the diner, but usually, she had somewhere else to go off to. Besides he didn’t seem the type to just want hookups. There was something about him that screamed he wanted a wife and Liv wasn’t sure she could ever be that for someone.

“As if that cocksucker needs anyone else’s money,”

That voice could only belong to one individual whom she knew as one of her closest friends in town. Peter. Of course, he would be so bold to say something like that, “I dare you to say it louder so he hears you.” Liv quipped, feeling him come up behind her to order himself, her, and Ciaran another drink.

Peter was the kind of guy that would wingman you into any situation you wanted, or he was the friend that spoke his mind so much that you couldn’t help but admire it. The pair had a lot in common, but Peter was never going to commit and neither was she. Maybe that’s why their friendship worked so well.

She heard the words that Peter spoke, calling Ciaran handsome and a playful grin mused at her lips, you could trust Peter to steal the guy you’re flirting with because it happened more than once and it would probably happen more after this. It was okay, Liv would just tell him that he owed her, and at least Liv knew Peter was good in bed.

Before she could get any other words out, yet another person walked up to their little gang at the bar. Liv was not sure where all these fucking people were coming from, but she never strayed from group conversations.

"Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

Liv had just brought the glass of rum and coke to her lips and taken a sip when she heard John’s question and he was now in the group of them crowded around the bar. She couldn’t help but laugh a little bit, nearly spitting her drink out. John had that charming look on his face, he was easy on the eyes, and being one of Peter’s friends meant he could have the potential to be fun.

“Word on the street is, you don’t particularly care for this so-called love anyways.” Liv mused and before she could say anything Ciaran was practically running off. If you didn’t have the confidence to joke around with the guys and think yourself worthy, then maybe she wasn’t the best person for Ciaran to be around.

“I wouldn’t mind if you walked by again though.” She said with her grin still attached to her face, before taking some sips of her drink. She meant it, and hey even though Peter and John were good friends, she was sure Peter would enjoy the walk by too.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Peter Llewelyn Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Olive Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Minerva Moreau Character Portrait: John Carpenter
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If she’d not been so preoccupied - hypnotized, even - by the dagger, she might’ve anticipated John’s intrusion before he’d gotten so close. Hooking his chin over her right shoulder, his body just a breath away from being pressed against her back, the conman invaded her space in a way very few people dared. Veronica’s parting words echoed in her mind in the brief silence they shared before John spoke directly in her ear, teasing her about the weapon she held in her hand. 'Ballsy,' she thought, but then again wasn’t he always? Only John would dare harass a woman when she had a blade in her hand. Minerva opened her mouth to comment, to bite back with a threat that would inevitably hold very little weight, but something else had caught John’s attention before she’d gotten the chance.

His body pressed fully against hers as his gaze turned to the leather satchel, pinning her between himself and the table. Minerva’s face went hot, blushing from cheek to collar bone, her grip tightening on the dagger in her hand. She remained still, lest she encourage someone (or rather something) else to join their conversation, letting him move against her as he placed a bid on the item. He didn’t bid much - with how close he was, of course she saw - but there was serious doubt that anyone else would compete for it. As John finally backed away, Minerva was spurred into action, turning toward him with the knife brandished in his direction. It was an empty threat, one he met with that same devil-may-care smile, her words dying on her throat. Her eyes spoke for her, a fire burning within her wide hazel gaze, telling him without saying so just how close he’d been to becoming a eunuch. Ironically, it was his wink that doused some of that anger, the familiarity of it filling her with annoyance more than anything else. She rolled her eyes as she watched him head towards the bar, turning their attention away from one another in synchrony, her hands sheathing the weapon and returning it to its cushion before she could be reprimanded for it.

    Minerva placed a bid on it before she could really think about it, pulling out her number again since the recent assault on her person had managed to make her forget it. Five hundred dollars was all she had to spare for it. She’d come in with a budget and here she was blowing it all on one thing, but she wouldn’t let that bother her. After all, nothing else on the table seemed to hold her attention as well as the knife had. A part of her hoped that she would end up taking it home at the end of the night, but she wouldn’t let herself hope too much for that. It was such a beautiful weapon. What collector wouldn’t want to get their hands on that?

    With a considerable amount of self-control, Minerva finally turned away, urging herself to mingle before she continued to obsess over the dagger. She swept her gaze over the crowd of people nestled in the hall, slightly embarrassed at the number of people that had arrived since she started browsing the items on auction. Had she really been looking at it for that long? Shaking herself out of her own reverie, Minerva continued to survey the patrons participating in the event, taking stock of how many people looked to be engaged in intense conversation, how many were paired up for a dance, and how many of them were by themselves. She gave the room one final scan, only to see Ciaran walking away from the bar, something slightly disgruntled about his demeanor. Her eyes flitted a smidge to the small cluster closest to him, a pang of sympathy immediately blooming for her friend.

    Olive was there; she’s a waitress at the diner they frequented for lunch. Ciaran’s had his attention set on her for a while, awkwardly flirting during every meal while Minerva teased him about it. She was bracketed by two men, possibly the two sleaziest men in the city. When it came to seducing women - or in one of their cases people - no one stood a chance against Peter Llewelyn and John Carpenter. It was a small comfort seeing the former, even if she was a little annoyed at his lack of communication. The two of them were insatiable, possibly having had every woman in Essex in their bed at some point. Not that Minerva was keeping up with their sexual conquests. Especially John’s. Hedonism was a concept completely lost on her, and she knew for a fact that she’d just be another notch in John’s belt if she let him. Peter probably hated her too much to try.

    Peering through the crowd, Minerva waited until she caught Ciaran’s gaze, waving the man over with an empathetic smile. She closed the gap between them once he got close enough, offering her hand to him, "Care to dance with me?"




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    peter llewelyn
    peter pan | outfit | #1C815A

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    "I dare you to say it louder so he hears you."

    It was a joke, he knew, but Peter was still mighty tempted to humor the girl. Liv knew better than anyone that there were very few things Peter actually feared. Adrien Duval? Not one of them.

    A heavy hand on his shoulder. A familiar presence at his side. A very familiar pick up-line. John’s approach was accompanied by all of these, bringing a smile to Peter’s face that was less licentious and more elated. If John was here then he was bound to have a good time, despite the man’s inclination toward female genitalia. For someone as salacious as Carpenter, it seemed rather pedantic to just stick to one gender; that’s how you know sexuality isn’t a choice. Peter would’ve hopped on that a long time ago if John had let him. Unfortunately, it looks like he’d just have to settle for living vicariously through his best friend. He shot Olive a look, knowing that she would be able to understand exactly what it meant, his salacious grin back in full swing as she flirted with the man in return.

    The beard had left already, having said something about a knight in shining-... something before he walked away with his tail tucked between his legs. He couldn’t fault him. Peter was a lot to put up with, especially for a straight guy. He’d watched the handyman leave, just to appreciate the view, and his gaze wound up finding his lawyer almost immediately. Refusing to make eye-contact with the woman, Peter had turned his attention around, sipping at his drink as he watched two of his best friends in town talk amongst themselves. He wasn’t Liv’s favorite wingman for nothing, after all. Despite popular belief, he knew when to step back; he just didn’t want to most of the time. Besides, Liv fucking John was the only way Peter could find out he good he actually was. Liv’s slept with the best of the best, after all.
    It’d be nice to know how the other man compared. It’d also be nice to know how big the man’s dick was.

    "What brings you here, John?” Peter finally asked, "And looking absolutely delectable, I might add.” He eyed the man’s attire, sticking out like a sore thumb among everyone else’s fancy dress. It wasn’t like it mattered any. John could show up in a potato sack and be one of the hottest people in the room. Peter told him as much all the time, and luckily his friend wasn’t homophobic enough to turn down a compliment when he received one.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Minerva Moreau
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    minerva moreau
    maid marian | outfit | #8499A3

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    in collaboration with xarysin

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    ciaran paine
    will scarlet | outfit | #6D0404

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A laugh bubbled it’s way to the surface as Ciaran quickly set his drink aside, taking her hand and escorting her through the mingling crowd toward the dance floor. It happened so fast Minerva would almost think him eager to get away from everyone, and after being bombarded at the bar she couldn’t blame him. "A little bit," she teased as he led her into a dance, her free hand resting comfortably on the slope where his neck meets his shoulder. Anyone would need rescuing from that crowd, especially someone like Ciaran. He was too kind and (admittedly) a little self-conscious to withstand their judgmental stares; it was also too easy for them to make someone balk at their mere presence. "Or maybe you’re just thinking with your dick and not your head," Minerva remarked, knowing he’d hear the mirth in her tone. Besides, it was a fair statement to make. Ciaran was a man on the hunt, he just didn’t seem to know what he was hunting for.

Of course, Minerva took the compliment well, her smile brightening and her face clear of any of the light-hearted pity she once held for her friend. She muttered a quick thank you, her cheeks slightly rosy, taking a moment to admire the man in fancy dress as he asked about something else. "I did, actually," she said, their conversation moving on to the auction table. "At least you bet on a whole set," she laughed, "I had my eye on that single dagger over there, the one with the engraving." In truth she still didn’t know why she placed a bet on it, but she wouldn’t say it aloud lest she be teased for wasting her money.

When she mentioned ‘thinking with his dick’, Ciaran pursed his lips in embarrassed agreement. "Perhaps." He continued to lead her around the dance floor, oblivious to anyone else around at the moment. "A dagger? Truly? I probably shouldn’t be surprised but I’m surprised. I would have suggested the black jeweled necklace if I hadn’t seen Lorelei and Duval hovering around it. Why the dagger?"

Minerva remembered the necklace he was talking about, with its obsidian gem and menacing beauty, but it wasn't the audience it gathered that had turned her eyes away. When she saw the dagger everything else just paled in comparison. "I don't really know," she thought aloud, almost wistful. She broke herself from her reverie and looked at Ciaran fully, her eyebrow cocked in the teasing manner as the smirk now adorning her lips, "Are you saying I don't look like the kind of girl that'll turn down a pretty necklace over a weapon?"

Ciaran met eyes with her and his mouth gaped open. He knew he’d stuck his foot in his mouth AGAIN. "I.. no.. I mean…" Fuck. "No, M. I’m sure you could do a lot of damage with that weapon. Maybe starting with me." He grinned and tried to give her another spin in an attempt to distract her. "I can’t say why I bid on the sword either. Maybe I’ll bring them by your office and hang them on your wall with your dagger and you can be really intimidating to your clients, eh?"

Her head hung back with the force of her laugh as she was spun, tears almost welling up in her eyes. She hasn't laughed - or even smiled - this much since their last lunch date. It was good to have someone she could be this open with, to have someone she didn't have to put up a front for. With them knowing each other as well as they did, Minerva had no doubt in her mind that he would know he's off the hook. As their bodies connected once more, she gave the crook of his neck a gentle squeeze just for good measure. "As if you need a reason to come see me," she teases, "Though I'll admit, the idea is growing on me. I almost hope we get them, they'd be quite the conversation piece."


    Ciaran grinned as he saw his friend laughing. It felt to make her happy. When she came back into his grasp his hand rested on the small of her back rather than waist as before. "At the very least they up your intimidation factor." He glanced around the room. "Or perhaps we can learn to actually use them." He laughed a bit at that thought.

    "I already can if you count fencing," Minerva replied, "You should join me some time, unless you're scared of getting your ass kicked in a sword fight." A challenge spoken with unwavering confidence. She had years of experience under her belt thanks to the classes she's been taking at the gym, and although they were close friends, she wouldn't go easy on him if they were to ever spar. She was too competitive for that, unfortunately. She'd tease him once he lost and offer him a rematch, probably just to boast after another win. It would be just like their lunches at the diner in a weird way, only this time she'd be the only woman holding his attention. Minerva should count herself lucky for having a friend that could put up with her like Ciaran did.

    He leaned his head back with a surprised look on his face, "Say what, now? Count me intimidated." He was sincerely impressed by her confession. Though he did have a little worry in the back of his mind. Those who fence tend to be waspy rich types. Types that didn’t like his types: poor criminal types. He hoped that moment of worry didn’t cross his expressions. "I am a little afraid of getting my ass kicked, actually. What other secrets are you keeping from me?" He grinned, mostly playing around with a hint of true curiosity.

    Whatever thoughts plagued her friend's mind seemed fleeting, concern crossing his face for only a moment before he was right back to smiling. Hers faltered just a bit, worried in her own way, afraid of what Ciaran could be working himself up over. Minerva hid it just as well as he did, letting whatever it was remain unspoken. "Nothing you ever have to worry about," she said with a small shrug, feeling light on her feet as they spun along the dancefloor. "You probably know me better than anyone else in this room," she admitted, and it was probably true. There wasn't really anyone else in attendance that she spent so much of her free time with. "What about you? Have anything you're hiding from me?" There was earnestness in that question, though she'd only worded it that way to play off of their banter. If she could learn something new about a good friend then she would be pleasantly surprised, confident in the knowledge that their relationship will be better for it.

    Ciaran tilted his head upwards, making an over dramatic thinking expression as they swayed. "Mmmm.." He looked back down at her with a slightly side-ways glance. "Off the record? Don’t go runnin’ off to the sheriff." He spoke in jest, figuring she had a dislike for the corruption going on with the police. "I miiiight be wanted in a few counties. Though I doubt anyone is actually investing any time into looking for a former teenager who stole sandwiches and deodorant from Walmart." He continued in a playfully dramatic tone, "But fear not, dear maiden, my life of crime is behind me." He gave her a grin.

    Ciaran's theatrics never ceased to amuse her. She played along every time, drawing an 'X' over her heart with the tip of her finger to promise that she wouldn't tell a single soul. Minerva moved in close with her head cocked to the side, revealing her ear as if he was telling her a secret. His "life of crime" coaxed another laugh out of her, her face lit up with amusement as he promised her to keep out of trouble from here on out. As if someone like Ciaran could seriously commit to a life of serious crime. He wasn't like Adrien Duval, or even Peter. Ciaran is a good man, and she'd trust him with anything. "Well if you do ever find yourself getting into trouble, you've got a pretty good attorney on your side."

    He chuckled lightly, feeling quite relaxed at the moment. "That I do. That I do. But don’t worry, that’s not why we’re friends." He removed his hand from her back and put two fingers up in the air, "Scouts honor." His hand found it’s way back to it’s place on her lower back. "Besides, Grayson keeps my sandwich thieving ass in line these days. If I need a lawyer, it’ll probably be because I’ve broken the nose of one of Essex’s ‘elite’." He had disdain in his voice when he said that last word.

    Minerva smiled as he raised his hand in promise, rolling her eyes more out of fondness than actual annoyance. After knowing each other for as long as they have, she knew there was more to their friendship than either of their careers. He didn’t use her for legal aid just as she didn’t use him for day to day maintenance at her office. "Well in that case, I’ll take your case pro bono." Minerva laughed, amused by both the disdain in his voice and the image he provided. Although Ciaran was leading, it was Minerva that led them to a stop as the music softened into silence, the room quiet save for the dull roar of conversation surrounding them. "Come on," she said, backing away and nodding her head towards an empty table, "Let’s grab a seat before the good ones are all taken." Minerva led him over to the tables at the front of the hall, pulling out a seat for herself and trying not to melt in the chair when she finally got to sit down. She might not know when the auction itself would begin, but at least she had decent company to keep her entertained in the meantime.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elena Lux Character Portrait: Roman Scarrott Character Portrait: John Waldmann Character Portrait: Liesl Voigt Character Portrait: Adrien Duval Character Portrait: Grayson Hughes Character Portrait: Peter Llewelyn Character Portrait: Lorelei Voigt Character Portrait: Ciaran Paine Character Portrait: Ricardo Trujillo Character Portrait: Paisley Lawrence Character Portrait: Nora Weis Character Portrait: Mahin Hassud Character Portrait: Minerva Moreau Character Portrait: Liana Roth Character Portrait: Rhiannon O'Connor Character Portrait: Dr. Henry Fines, MD Character Portrait: Lene Kim Character Portrait: Hugo Lund Character Portrait: Ben Thompson Character Portrait: John Carpenter Character Portrait: Bermuda Siren Character Portrait: Rowan Renou Character Portrait: Natalya Volkov Character Portrait: Kiana T'Nae Character Portrait: Gabriel Zagré
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#, as written by mombie
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~ Toast to Hope ~
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There was much to do still and not a lot of time left to do them. This night could not last forever, as pained as Mrs. Picket felt for all involved. As she walked through the gala she noted the relationships that have formed, and part of her knew that happiness would be broken as the curse slowly lifted. But this was for the best, she told herself over and over again. They did not belong in this earthly realm, for every precious moment spent living their best lives in Essex, the Enchanted Realm withered away thanks to the vile curse of the Evil Queen. It wouldn't be long until it was gone for good. The people needed their beacons of hope, but they are all here in Essex.

Several fancy individuals went around the auction tables, presumably to look at the bids placed. They took about 30 minutes, or so, to close the auction and place the winning number on each item. It was a silent auction, after all.

After a while, the music died down and Mrs. Picket took the stage front and center. Waiters and waitresses carried trays of champaign, offering one thin fluke to each person. She was given a mic, tapped it a couple of times, did the comical and fun one, two, three . . . test, test. She laughed a little to lighten the mood because there was nothing joyous about the occasion. Those that have lived miserable lives in the Enchanted Realm had grown content here, but Mrs. Picket's magic would soon shred their reality.

"What a wonderful night. It's been lovely to see all these faces together in one spot," she smiled as best she could. Of course, it was easy for her - she had such a bright outward appearance and personality that it was hard to see her as anything but jovial. She's just a happy old lady! "The silent auction has ended. You will find the winning bids place on the items," she gestured toward the various auction tables. There were, indeed, large white cards placed near each item with the number of its owner. It didn't matter if someone outbid them or if someone bid on their behalf; the digits would match whomever the item belonged to.

"I know, I know," she paced to and fro, adding a little comedy to her routine, "Such an eclectic inventory, right? And that's putting it nicely." She paused for the obligatory laughs. No one would leave an old lady hanging, even if her humor was dry, right?

She raised her glass in the air toward those gathered. They were waiting for her to get to the point, and she gets that. It's a long night and there are far too many personalities here for everything to remain pleasant. "The proceeds from the auction will go toward those suffering without hope." She paused, took a look around the room, and smiled lightly. Come tomorrow, this throng of good Essex people will be shattered. "Dance, be merry, and enjoy each other. Tomorrow will mark a new beginning in Essex. But I hope you will always remember that there is always hope. Hope in the world, in each other, and even in that which is hopeless - be it a person or situation. Believe in change. Believe in... goodness."

She wanted to sigh because certain individuals here were not going to change for anything. But she proceeded to be content in her vague ramblings. Maybe many would just dismiss her as an old senile lady, for she is quite geriatric. "So let's toast to that - hope, for it can be found in even the darkest places. Even in... all of this," she gestured around to the auction tables once more with a free hand.

After finishing off her drink, she addressed them for the last time. "Well, it's been lovely, dearies. My job here is done, and I must go." She left the stage, allowed others to say their good-byes to her and she to them. The Enchanted Realm had so few heroes within it to help stave off the Evil Queen's magic, and the Fairy Godmother was one of them. Even just spending a few hours here could have caused harm.

With that, Mrs. Picket left the building and went back from whence she came. She took one last look at Essex and the dimly lit streets before she "poofed" away as though she was never here. However, unlike she had intended in the beginning, she'd leave the residents a memory of her as to take a few words to heart later.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Enchanted Realm whole cities, kingdoms, and minor-realms were at war with one another. Many of them were headed by the co-conspirators of Jafar or the Evil Queen, both with the same goal in mind. The Realm was decaying at a rapid rate, and no one knew who to blame for the mess. The skies everywhere were a dour shade of grey, and the flora and fauna were diseased and deathly. Everyone was frightened because they were without proper leadership. The loss of certain characters meant the end of hope.

The Fairy Godmother returned to a small clearing in the Enchanted Forest that was kept alive by the magic of herself and a few others. She stepped into a small hut and nodded slowly, "They will come. Of that, I have no doubt."

The Blue Fairy, the six Fairies that blessed Aurora, and even the one that was said to have cursed Beast, were all having dinner at a large round table. It wasn't anything special; just stew. "We'll see," one of the six Fairies scoffed. "We should still look for a way to break this curse. Just in case. Who'd want to return to this?"

The Blue Fairy laughed solemnly, "Ah, yes - that will be quite the dilemma. Won't it?"

The Fairy Godmother peered out of a window. The skies were clear here, but she could see the tendrils of dark light stretching slowly toward them. "Hope, ladies. Hope. It's the only thing we have left."

They would all agree to disagree. Some of them felt that these were the end of days, and others were more optimistic. However, they were all realistic. Realistically, life was hell in the Enchanted Realm - even for those that supposedly had their "Happy Endings" - whatever that meant. Life here was no storybook.