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Jane Cross

The Accomplice

0 · 334 views · located in Titanic

a character in “Take Her to Sea”, as played by penelope lemon



Jane Cross

Jane or Miss Cross, Pet by Arthur

Twenty five



First Class



Jane is about as ordinary as her name. While she's not conventionally good looking, she not ugly either. She has fairly forgettable face, one that could get lost in the crowd easily. Her eyes are her most notable feature, they're the color of cornflower and hold a bright intelligence about them; framed by dark lashes and thick eyebrows. He nose is slightly upturned, with full lips and a narrow jaw.

Jane has thick, dark hair that, when not pinned up, falls just below her shoulder blades in tight curls. He loves when she lets it loose. She tends to dress very modestly, in muted colors and plain dresses. Jane isn't one for buying expensive clothing, even if she has the money to do so. She feels like a liar when she wears extravagant clothes, like she doesn't quite belong in them or like everyone can see right though her facade. She's never been a first class woman, and she probably never will be.



Reading She enjoys getting lost in a good book
Intelligent Conversations and People Watching Jane loves to be in the company of others, conversing, observing and learning about new people
Sunlight Something about being outside, in the fresh air, helps to relax her
Music There's nothing quite like an old familiar tune being drawn from a violin, though Jane enjoys music in any form
Hot Tea Comforting and tasty, she'll never pass up a chance to sit and sip

Arthur McLoughlin The man that was her salvation and her downfall
Whiskey It reminds her too much of her former life and her father
Winter Months The heavy grey clouds of winter tend to bring her down
Money Lately, it seems to be the root of all her problems
Submissive People Those that don't stand up for themselves tend to annoy Jane, though she's fears that that is exactly what she is becoming


Kind, plainspoken, intelligent, loyal, stubborn
Jane is continually mindful of others. She's the type of person that gets joy from others succeeding. She is trusting, dependable and honest. She makes for an excellent friend and companion, but tends to distance herself from any type of serious relationship; mostly out of fear of being hurt or hurting others. She's curious about the world and loves to learn new things, especially about other people. She tries to constantly better herself, as though she's trying to make up for all the terrible things she's done to people in the past.

She doesn't think much of herself. She knows she lives a lie and she finds it despicable, she knows that she could never truly fit in with the upper class. Still, she does what she has to to survive. She can be very determined at times, and if anyone were to call her, or Arthur, out on their choice of lifestyle, she would be quick to defend. Jane speaks her mind as much as possible, something that tends to land her in hot water. Arthur spent much time teaching her how to hold her tongue, and still she says things before thinking. She wants to help others as much as she can, but she doesn't want others to come to her aid; she wants, and believes, that she can do everything herself. She's cautious, clever and caring. Her rudimentary upbringing in the countryside has given her an appreciation for the simple things in life, and a somewhat bold demeanor.


Jane spent her childhood being the adult of the family. Her father was a terrible alcoholic that spent the families income on whiskey and her mother was too much of a coward to leave him. If Jane found a way to earn some extra money, her father would somehow manage to nick if off her to go buy his favorite drink. On the rare occasion that he wasn't piss poor drunk, her father was mopey and in black mood. It was like walking on eggshells around the sobered man, a wrong word or strange tone would set him off on his drinking. He rarely hit his children or wife, though it wasn't unheard of, but he did raise his voice and throw things when he was intoxicated, and to young Jane it was terrifying seeing him that way. She resented her mother for never doing anything about her father. She felt like her mother had a responsibility to protect Jane and her siblings, but she never stood up to her husband.

Jane never spent much time in that grim house of hers. Whenever she could, she was out in the countryside rolling through the fields or climbing the birch trees. Her one solace was her childhood friend who seemed to be the only one that could take her mind off her home life. Of all the people she left behind when she followed Arthur, his face was the one she missed the most.

When Jane was sixteen, she met Arthur. He had picked her out of a crowd in the middle of town. She doesn't remember much about their first meeting, only that he was charming and she liked the sound of what he had to say. He told her about a life away from her father, to which she readily agreed. And just like that she was whisked away from her home and thrown into an alien world of deception and conning. Arthur taught her everything; how to flirt and smooth talker her way into someones life, how to choose her words carefully and play safe, how to gracefully exit without leaving a trail or a scrap of paper money behind. She had the perfect face, said Arthur, pretty enough to grab someones attention but simple enough to easily forget. He taught her about money and politics, how to act like a first class member of society, he taught her about literature and art and history. For years the duo traveled from place to place finding new victims to play their games. Anytime Arthur was caught, she posted his bail and the two were off again.

At first she found it all exhilarating—the prospect of being caught, the money and glamorous people, the new life she had created for herself—but soon the illusion, and all it's splendor, wore off. By the time she was twenty she was tired of the whole charade. She was sick of lying, to herself and to others. She wasn't a first class lady, she was a farm girl without a penny to her name. She was never as talented as Arthur, he believed his lies but she could barley contain her guilt. Unfortunately for Jane, once she chose her occupation there was no getting out of it; she can't fabricate her past and she can't escape her present.


Face Claim Jessica Brown Findlay
Color #8829b
Writer penelope lemon

So begins...

Jane Cross's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Arthur McLoughlin Character Portrait: Jane Cross Character Portrait: Georgiana King Character Portrait: Jamison Abbot
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There was salt in the air and a particular bounce in Georgie’s step as she had left her cabin room and was making her way towards the first class dining hall. Her spirit was electrified with the new sights around her and the energy that seemed to ripple from one person to another. She felt as though she had been released from an iron cage and allowed to breathe fresh air. While she knew she’d have to return to her gilded cage, she knew she had 364 more days to fill as she saw fit.

The enormity of the Titanic had been understated in the papers. Georgie could not believe such a huge mass of metal floated above the water and did not sink to the darkening depths of the sea. She had spent a great deal of the voyage so far exploring every nook and cranny she found that she was allowed to. Of course they had only been on the sea for the day and there was a great deal more she wanted to explore, but the possibilities seemed endless in her mind.

The sun was making its descent in the sky at this point in their journey. Georgie’s stomach was growling, but she was quickly distracted by the portrait of colors that caught her eye through a port hole window. She had squeezed passed others within the halls until she had finally found a door that led onto the upper deck.

This deck was reserved for the first class passengers and was quite different from the lower decks she had glimpsed earlier in the day when she had been boarding. Here the children were well dressed and well mannered. The parents held collected conversations and all around her everyone was behaving in a manner most dignified that her aunt would approve of wholeheartedly.

For a moment that stifling feeling began to rise in her throat and she quickly loosened the ties that held the hideous hat in place on her head--compliments of her aunt. These were the people she resented. They were fake smiles and fake conversation.

She closed her eyes briefly and allowed her mind to take her back to the open and wild plains of Africa. She took in a slow breath and the salt filled her lungs. She pushed her way down the well traveled memory paths in her mind until she came to a particular favorite.

She and Abebe had stumbled upon a young lion cub. Georgie had only been 14 at the time. She always had seen the magnificent creatures from a distance and was surprised to find the young cub curious and far less threatening than its mother.

Georgie was reaching out to scratch its ear--

There was a significant tugging sensation around her throat and Georgie’s eyes flew open as she felt the abominable hat dislodge from her head and be pull away on the breeze that had slithered through the deck like an unsuspecting serpent. Georgie picked up the skirts of a similarly atrocious gown--once again a by product of her aunts supposed “good” taste in high fashion--and began to move quickly after the hat. Eyes were drawn to her and quickly gave their disapproval at her lack of decorum as she ungracefully reached for the hat several times; each time it slipped through her fingers.

Georgie stomped her foot in frustration for half a moment before realizing her hat was going to be whisked over the edge of the railing.

It wouldn’t be too tragic, it is a very ugly hat after all. She thought to herself with a silent giggle, but she quickly reprimanded herself for such thoughts. Even though the majority of her trunk consisted of clothes she would rather burn at the stake than wear to dinner, they were still a gift from her only living relative.

“Oh no!” she called out as a stronger gust gave higher flight to her hat. It was doomed for sure.




James stood upon the bridge of the Titanic looking out at the vast blue carpet that lay before them. He was the third officer aboard the ship and it was a responsibility he took seriously and was well adjusted to. He found quickly he much preferred to give directions to men who had the only goal of keeping their passengers safe upon the maiden voyage of such a large metal beast. This was the work that didn’t raise his anxiety levels beyond their normal range.

He glanced over his shoulder at the three great black smoke stacks standing at attention. The great black smoke wound its way into the sky and brought back chilling memories.

James frowned slightly and shook the thoughts off. He had seen battle only a handful of times and they were times he wanted to forget. The responsibility of those lives was such a difficult burden to carry. The few men he had lost during his time in the royal navy were stones upon his back that he would carry until he was laid to rest in his own grave.

“You brood too much.” A voice came from his side and James was startled out of his reverie.

“Beg pardon?” he asked the violently redheaded man--Michael O’Donnahugh.

“You’re concentrating too much upon depressing topics. It’s showing on your face.” Michael pointed at the corner of James’ eyes where there were faint stress lines beginning to show. “You should take a break, go explore a bit, go scope out what ladies might be waiting for a knight in shining armor to come and rescue them.” Michael winked and punched James lightly in the shoulder.

James only shook his head. He had known Michael only a couple of months, but the burly Irishman meant well.

He took the man’s advice, if only to escape him, and went down to the first class promenade deck. He caught sight of a woman chasing a hat down the railing quite a ways down the deck before turning to the people around him.

He sighed and looked out at the fiery seascape that stretched between water and sky. His mind was pulled back to a young woman with a dash of freckles on her nose and eyes like that of a doe. James was not here to scope out any women who might be readily willing to fall into the bed of an officer. In fact, he rather fancied forgetting one woman who had left quite the gnarled scars over his heart.