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Chrysanthemum Keller

"You're all gonna wonder how you ever thought you could live so large and leave so little for the rest of us."

0 · 445 views · located in The New World

a character in “The Lovely Ones”, as played by OurStars

Description

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N i c k n a m e ? Chrys, and only Chrys. If you ever call her by her full name, you will not be responded to. Very few even know her real name.

R o l e ? Rebel Leader & King's Call girl

A g e ? Twenty-three

O c c u p a t i o n ? Rebel Leader / Call girl

C l a s s ? Commoner



P e r s o n a l i t y ?
Chrys has never been perfect, this is something that she recognizes more than anyone else- she is not the sort of person who is arrogant by any means, despite occasionally coming off as self-righteous in her points of view. She has a very strong sense of wrong and right, and can be rather unwilling to budge on her beliefs of them, unless proven without a doubt- though even then, she may cling to her previous ideals. The woman may be capable of adapting to new situations in the way of blending in and doing what she must do to get by and such, but her mindset is one thing about her that is always constant. She has prejudices, just as everyone else does, and it would take a good deal of persuading for anyone to make her believe that one of those 'filthy scum upstairs' have even a shred in good of them. She isn't exactly the most trusting of people, even with her fellow commoners, and is completely biased against all of those who claim to be superior to others. While this persistent nature may be an advantage for her, making her strong-minded and difficult to fool, it can also be damaging, as explained above. Her pig-headedness leaves an almost willfully discriminatory person. To her, any act of good from those she has decided are enemies is not unlike the glitter of a knife, pretty but deceitful.

Other than being biased and stubborn, the young woman is incredibly intelligent, which is why she has been the one leading the rebellion against the 'royals', whom she simply calls by an insult followed by "upstairs" (for example: the bastards upstairs, the scum upstairs, the morons upstairs, etc). She is calculating and the sort to think of every single possibility, and then proceed to have a back up plan for whatever may come. Chrys's mind is somewhat similar to a catalog, filed with strategies, plans, and words that fly across her mind a mile a minute. One may be wondering, given that her mind is so organized, how she prevents the High King from discovering her identity given that she is his call girl? Well, for one thing, she isn't entirely sure that he doesn't know who she is. For another, she has always been very strong minded, and is able to divert her thoughts away from hatred. Chrys has learned to lie in her thoughts just as easily as someone may tell a fable vocally- it is necessary, after all, when your greatest enemy is a mind reader.

While she is calculating, Chrys is far from being cold, though that tends to be the word that people associate with a calculating personality. She is more fire than ice, a very passionate person by nature. She is incredibly opinionated, though of course she must often bite her tongue in order to survive, something that is a strange combination of easy and painful for the young woman. She was raised in a very peaceful environment, but that kind of thing has never really been her style. The leader is by no means a pushover, not the sort to take things peacefully and move along, happy just to be alive. She is a fighter, someone who will push and push until she gets what she wants or what she believes is right, and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty doing so. When she does get into arguments, the girl is witty but genuine, not the sort to lie if it isn't necessary (though it usually is). What she feels, she feels strongly. Whether it be hate, indignation, love or sorrow. However, when it comes to the last one, it generally is transferred quickly into a desire to change herself and her environment.


L i k e s ?
+Independence
+Intelligence
+Variety
+Running

D i s l i k e s ?
-The High King
- Hierarchy
-Pretty Fools
-The Rain



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B a c k g r o u n d ?
Chrysanthemum Keller was not born into wealth or fame, nor was she born into a comfortable middle-class life, or technically one of great poverty either. She lived in an alternative lifestyle, if you will, the one which is both wealthy and destitute at once, providing either a moment of bounty or a day of starvation. Her family, one consisting of only she and her mother, lived paycheck to paycheck, job to job. It simply so happened to be the case that, on some occasions, those paychecks were actually quite a good sum of money. Her mother, you see, was a prostitute. That is the bare minimum of it, really, and she has never thought of her mother as anything but that, but in all technicalities Ms. Keller claimed to be a female escort- which really only translates into a high class hooker, the sort who works with clients who are businessmen, athletes and other varieties of well-off. Chrysanthemum was the daughter of one such person, the illegitimate child of a famous actor, and was given a rather ridiculous name because her mother had possessed this moment of childish hope when she gave birth to the girl, naming her for a flower which meant joy and happiness. Jade, which was her mother's name, had the tendency to have those moments. The woman, you see, was the sort who had been born into this world, just as her daughter had, and yet retained this childlike belief that maybe, maybe, everything would simply become better. She constantly reminded herself that there were others in her profession who starved at night, while she was one of those who could make ends meet with her money, thanks to several wealthy clients. It was the doe-eyed innocence that seemed to attract the men, who were more accustomed to jaded women whose hopes had been worn away with time.

Chrysanthemum, who demanded that she go by Chrys by the age of eight, did not inherit that stubborn innocence and improbably purity. She may have received a stubborn will to go on from her mother, but other than that her personality split off quite early in life. While her mother spoke of their blessings, Chrys would remember the look on her face every morning when she came home, worn out and fading, before forcing a smile for her precious daughter. She remembered the shame on her mother's face when she mentioned that it was career day at school and asked if she would come in. Despite the fact that her mother had a hope for the future, a dream, Chrys knew that she could not survive in this world forever. She would either lose that spark, and therefore her appeal to most of her customers, or die. In ninth grade, her mother began to grow weak. She hid it for as long as possible, but Chrys had always been a clever and observant girl- she noticed fairly soon. Besides that, she knew what would come due to her mother's weakened state. If her mother continued to work, she would die. If she did not, they would be left penniless, as their life was always tightrope walk based upon the moods and preferences of others. She had read a book in that year in which one of the characters stated that the best thing a girl can be in the world is a 'pretty fool'. This thought bewildered Chrys, but she resolved anyway to keep her mother in such a state. She began to take jobs in the stead of her mother, able to play any part necessary because life had taught her to do so. This effort allowed her mother to live for four more years. However, all things must end, and when Chrys was twenty, her mother passed away.

When that happened, the young woman went into a state of depression for six months, taking no jobs and eventually ending up out on the streets, unable to pay for her rent or for food. She was on the brink of death one day, sitting on a chair in the Smithsonian and staring blankly at a piece of artwork in front of her, and suddenly seemed to come to a conclusion- she was not going to die. After that, the girl began to work again. She earned money, ate, and looked back on the life of her mother with a new realization- the worst thing to be in life was a pretty fool. Pretty fools are taken advantage of, and are liable to only cause troubles for others. She loved her mother with all of her heart, but one pretty little fool was draining enough for Chrys, and even worse when she was gone. The young woman became determined to change her fate, beginning to take courses during the day for a degree in Information Technology. However, a career in such a field was not to be her fate, as the world caved into itself as the nuclear war, a violent background to the latter years of her life, raged on.

When the war did come to a close, it was to reveal a world in which one family stepped up above all else, establishing themselves as the absolute rulers. They were wealthy, opulent, and, in the eyes of Chrys, demons wearing finely tailored clothing. Instantly she knew that this was wrong, remembering the world past, and began trying to gather like-minded people. The first person to join her was Kent, one of her best and only friends ever since a rather awkward encounter a few years prior when they realized that his father was one of her mother's clients. The two both had reasons to hate the bastards upstairs, so to speak, and had both been friends before anyway. Together, they began to gather more members and make their way into the family. It wasn't long before she found herself able to get close to the family, although through the life she had tried to escape.
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So begins...

Chrysanthemum Keller's Story

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Character Portrait: Chrysanthemum Keller
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Although she is not part of the normal staff of the bustling Bennet household, the young woman with wavy dark hair and gray-blue eyes has been up since just a little bit past the crack of dawn, going about her personal business. Despite the fact that she loathes her job, and only puts up with it for the sake of trying to put everything back to how it once was, this is one of those days on which Chrys cannot help but be thankful that she is not a maid or cook of some sort, and therefore does not have to spend the day preparing for the ball to be held tonight. It will be the normal display of extravagance, holding no other purpose other than to show off the wealth and power of the Bennet family. Marcus will be there, of course, as will the rest of the bastards upstairs, as she refers to the royal family and the help which are almost part of that inner circle. The lot of them will spend the time boasting and socializing, going on as though everything in the world revolved around them and everything was perfectly happy. The very concept makes Chrys sick to her stomach with anger, being someone with a very strong sense of wrong and right. The fact that she grew up in a life defined and shadowed by such people as the sickening elite, ears weighed down with frivolous precious stones and tongues tipped with gossip and lies, does not exactly help to improve her opinion of those who will be attending the solemnity on this night. The wealthy of this new world order can do no right in her eyes, and certainly have never done anything that would be considered beneficial to society otherwise, at least to the young woman. Everything about them -their lifestyle, personalities, vanity and opulence- promotes disdain in the girl's heart. This intense disgust for their way of life is what, after all, prompted her to begin the rebellion.

The young woman steps into the shower to bathe herself after approximately two hours of her morning workout, a regime that she has kept to even before the sudden change, at least when her job did not interfere with it. While she may be someone who has a gift for strategy -aided by allies- and a love for books, the young woman also sees value in remaining physically fit at all times. After all, you never know when it may be necessary to fight someone, or outrun a person without becoming winded. Seeing all possibilities in her clearly organized brain makes the young woman slightly paranoid and, at times, a bit overly prepared. As in, she doesn't always focus enough on one thing, trying to cover all of the bases but never quite excelling at any of them. Of course, that is why there are other people, trusted people, in the rebellion, such as Kent, her right-handman and the acting personal assistant of Marcus. She refuses to address the man as the High King, seeing a power in titles which she refuses to hand over to him.

Chrys steps out of the shower, dries and dresses, wearing simple and easy to move around in clothing; slightly worn jeans, an old T-Shirt, and a beat-up aviator jacket. The young woman appears to have two closets- personal and business, both heavily contrasting in their level of skimpiness and femininity. They are kept separated at all times, because she hates the idea of the two becoming interchangeable with something of a passion. After dressing, the rebel leader places two phones into her messenger bag, one work and one private, and slides on a pair of boots and sunglasses so that she can go out for a walk around time. The first thing the young woman notices is the headline on the paper, "Rebellious Teenager Speaks Out in Lower Manhattan." At first the paper makes her smile slightly, though it vanishes in a second at the sight of the boy's picture in the paper. As soon as your identity has been revealed, death is certain for those who may desire to speak against the bastards upstairs, this is rule number one of her kind. This boy looks so young in the photo, an unfamiliar face who likely stood alone, backed by no organization. The thought increases her anger and resolve against the family, something not difficult to do. After purchasing the paper, the twenty-three year old walks down the sidewalk reading it. There are hostilities against the Bennets and all who work for them, of course, but rarely do people point them towards her. She gives no clear evidence of any relation, after all, though no sign of being part of the rebellion is clear either. To most people, she is just another person suffering under their tyranny.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Marcus Augustine "Mark" Bennett Character Portrait: Finley James Whitaker Character Portrait: Kent Silva Character Portrait: Lillian Knightingale Character Portrait: Chrysanthemum Keller Character Portrait: Magdalena Arden Prior
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By now standing in the line of a strangely decorated diner, Chrys is waiting for her order of hash browns to go, so that she can make her way to the Bennet Estate. It was requested that she help out by acting as a serving girl at the display of disgusting amounts of wealth and narcissism tonight, and she had accepted primarily to be around several of the other key rebels. Now, she is conflicted on whether she should go- there is that burning anger which makes her want to be there during the dance when the night's planned activities begin, courtesy of the rebellion, but also a part which fears that her anger may make her mind a sitting duck to be probed by the head bastard, one Marcus Bennet. Of course, the fear is likely unfounded, for she has a gift for lying within her own thoughts, probably fed by years as a call girl even before the nuclear war's ending and her gaining employment under the Bennet family, though not the most pure position, with ulterior motives. One might find that odd in a girl who is otherwise so honest, but she believes that honesty is a luxury- she strives to afford it, but some situations simply do not allow for the virtue to prosper. Given her position, there are many times in which she must keep herself from giving into the temptation of sharing her genuine opinion. That is the way this new world order works, though- especially when one is standing against the Bennets and yet directly beneath them as well. The wait ends eventually, and the dark-haired young woman is on the sidewalk again, at the estate gates within a few minutes. Tossing the hashbrown container into a waste bin, Chrys merely glances at the gatekeeper and is allowed in, being a rather regular face here, despite not actually being a resident of the ridiculous place.

Wisely choosing to enter through the servants' entrance, Chrys is able to avoid seeing Magdalena, Finley, Cyrus, and all of the other people who find themselves being her enemies simply due to their association (or relation in the case of two) to the bastards upstairs. Instead, she sneaks through side hallways, an expert of getting through houses unseen, as most of her clients back in the day were married men who fancied a change from the norm- sleazy bastards, every one, of course. The young woman is about to turn a corner but pauses at seeing two figures staring at eachother, completely motionless, in front of the door to the kitchen, where she had been headed in order to receive some sort of instructions. This hesitation allows her to recognize them as her right-hand man, Kent, and a pretty woman whose face is familiar in a may-be-a-rebel way. However, there is also something strangely familiar about her itching at the back of Chrys's brain. She doesn't realize that it is because the girl holds a striking resemblance to her brother, the one whom is no doubt dead by now. Whatever their conversation is about, based on the way that they are staring at each other it seems rather important. Not sure whether or not to intrude, she turns around and walks back down the hallway, deciding to circle around and form a decision based on whether they are still speaking.

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Character Portrait: Vivian Kathleen Bennett Character Portrait: Marcus Augustine "Mark" Bennett Character Portrait: Philip Oscar Chevalier Character Portrait: Chrysanthemum Keller
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The people who walk through the ballroom seem to have no care, though of course this cannot be entirely true. After all, each and every one of them cares very deeply for their own person, and therefore take care to spoil themselves in every way possible, even if that means stepping on the backs of those they consider beneath them, as well as lying to and cheating those whom they smile and call Friend, Darling, Sweetheart, Love with saccharine voices and eyes that are guarded by a veil of mental silk. The very sound of their beautifully terrible lies and the sight of the luxury they surround themselves in is enough to make one young woman, dark in hair and eyes, boil with indignant anger. She hides this anger well, though, smiling politely and making rounds with a platter that probably costs more than a month's rent for most people. Chrys is not a typical servant, not in the manner of going around preparing food and such, but tonight she was called in for a bit of extra help, and decided that it would be a wise decision to agree. The sight of them may make her sick with anger, but she would rather be hear, aware and alert, than sitting at home forming strategies. Nothing is quite so useful as being in the field, and she does no quite a bit about being hands-on in achieving her goals. After all, she hasn't exactly planted herself in the home in a distant position, an obscure maid or something of that variety.

Regardless of who she is or what she does, Chrys is in this ballroom now, serving the people whom she despises the most, and watching. She is quite good at this, watching that is, having always been a clever and calculating young woman, and so is able to observe all of her surroundings. Everything matters and yet nothing does, all depending on what it is you seek in searching the room and the opulence around you. In this case, Chrys merely searches for the elite of the elite: Marcus, Vivian, and the rest of their ilk. The 'family' is not incredibly large, but their wingspan is long and their presence overwhelming. It is not incredibly difficult to find one of them, and soon she is able to spot several. There is Vivian and Marcus, greeting people as they enter, Phillip, walking towards a pretty young women with an alcoholic beverage in his outstretched hand. The others are sure to be about as well. Of course, so are those who align themselves with the rebel cause, one which hopes to bring back some sort of democracy and destroy the crippling social order that currently dominates the culture of the world.

"Oh, will you stand still," one of the older nobles say with exasperation, stopping Chrys before she has the chance to move on, as he is devouring everything that is on her dish. For a member of higher society, he doesn't appear to have much in the way of manners: arrogance and old age can do that to you, perhaps. Either way, it leaves Chrys stuck standing there, arm extending a tray of little finger foods towards a gluttonous man whose pants seem to be just managing to stay together around is extensive waistline. "Yes, of course, sir. My apologies," she says softly, her eyes downcast to mirror the perfect image of a meek waitress who knows her place in society. The elderly man seems satisfied with this, and continues to cram his throat with the little treats, clearly not intending on leaving any for the other guests to enjoy. It is taking a great amount of restraint for the young woman not to shove the food into his face as he swoops in for another piece. Well, perhaps not a great amount, for the strain lessens with practice, but at least a small portion of her brain is now distracted with not hurting the slovenly old man before her. Her current position is directly between the prestigious couple and the flirtatious fake son, giving a nice view should anything happen.

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Character Portrait: Benjamin A. Wallace II Character Portrait: Chrysanthemum Keller
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Atlas stared at the at the night sky. The stars shined bright across the gentle blue heavens as strong winds danced above the small village. For a brief moment, Atlas imagined the painting pouring out of the canvas and enveloping reality. To see the world through the eyes of Van Gogh would be a treasure to the imagination. With a blink, the technician was back in reality, starring at a masterpiece by a man who couldn't take the cruelty of the real world. Atlas quickly dismissed the painting as he continued walking around the edge of the ballroom. He really didn't have time to stop and admire beautiful pieces of art. Just then he noticed her from across the room, a pretty little thing severing slop to a pig of a man.

Atlas always admired his own exceptional ability to pick out diamonds in the ruff. Without noticing it, The young man began to move foreword towards the attractive waitress. A new face, he realized with a smile forming at the corner of his lips. Atlas loved the opportunity to introduce himself to new female employees, And he wasn't about to skip out on this one. "You shouldn't forget to breath." He told the old man eating from the serving plate. "Or has your lungs evolved to inhale shrimp cocktails?"

The security technician looked for approval from the young waitress's reaction, ignoring the old heavy man who's face was turning red as if he was choking on some of the food he just stuffed in his mouth."How dare you speak to me in such a way" the man huffed, but said nothing more. Atlas wasn't wearing a uniform like the rest of the security team, instead he was in a pressed black tuxedo completed with a bow tie and the nicest shoes his salary could buy. At a glance, He looked almost like one of the aristocrats, except for his messy hair and second-hand shoes. The fat man huffed again before Atlas stared at him with a stern look, waiting for the man to leave. Feeling the pressure, the aristocrat huffed again before moving on, probably to the next poor server with food. A wave of relief filled Atlas as the man walked away, the young security technician was afraid the man was going to call his bluff. He looked back at the waitress and his smile quickly returned. "I've never seen you here before. What is your name?" he asked with false authority.

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Character Portrait: Benjamin A. Wallace II Character Portrait: Chrysanthemum Keller
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While the pig-like old man beside her continues to gorge himself on the delicious -although perhaps not to the extent that would make his disregard for common courtesy acceptable- snacks. There is a dinner, you gluttonous leech, Chrys thinks to herself doing her very best to not roll her eyes, merely standing there with a surprising amount of patience, forced of course, and wondering for the umpteenth time why the waitresses have to wear these blasted heels. Unless the young woman absolutely has to, she avoids the things, finding them to be more useful as weapons than as footwear. At the sign of needing to run, she would kick them off without hesitation, finding bare feet preferable by far. She typically sticks to boots and tennis shoes, unless she has been called to the manor in the night, because the top bitches upstairs have synced menstrual cycles or whatever other reason has prompted the king bastard upstairs to call her to his bed. There is little pride in being the king's call girl, and some would consider her to be lower than even the servants, certainly a lesser entity than people like Kent, who are servants but are the high king's assistant and such. This is fine enough for Chrys, though, because the very thought of being high-up in this corrupted, elitist society makes her want to gag. The only reason she works selling her body to the king, and occasionally others when ordered to do so, is because it gives her some sort of in with the manor. She can hear the whispers of the servants, and occasionally learn the secrets of the aristocracy. Besides, what sort of leader would she be if she allowed others to put themselves on the front line, in the home of the enemy, but hid away among the masses of the city by herself?

Out of the corner of her eye, Chrys can see a well-dressed young man walking towards her, but can quickly identify him as not being of the higher classes. Probably coming to eat more- oh, wait, her thoughts shift as she recognizes his face, despite the fact that he does not seem to recall hers. This is a matter of course, though- she is rarely around the Manor after dawn or before midnight. The call girl leaves the home as soon as the bastard king has fallen asleep, often beforehand. Others may see this action as an acknowledgement of her lowly place, but it is truly an effect of the repulsion she feels from the aristocracy- the high king especially. It is bad enough that she must sleep with him- she would prefer to be out of his company as quickly as possible. Besides, his ability to probe one's mind is very unsettling, even if she has become very gifted of lying in her thoughts and placing barriers to avoid any difficult situations.

The young man, Chrys recalls his name to be Atlas, similar to the titan who, in mythology, holds up the sky, stops in front of her and the slovenly member of nobility with a smirk and a mocking twinkle in his eyes. He appears to be in his early or mid-twenties, and Chrys knows that he is the security technician of the Manor. He could be a potentially key element for the rebellion, and hence she has somewhat kept tabs on who he is, but his allegiance is uncertain and, for the moment, he is more of a liability than a possible ally. "You shouldn't forget to breathe," he advises the elderly man, "Or have your lungs evolved to inhale shrimp cocktail?" At this quip, the young woman cannot help but smile very slightly, though the expression is not entirely without calculation. Ally or threat, she obviously cannot afford to be on the wrong side of the man before her. His eyes turn towards her, and he smiles at Chrys while the old man nearly chokes on his fifteenth shrimp cocktail before sputtering out an angry response, but not following through with it. Unlike Chrys, he doesn't know who Atlas is, and thus falls for the young man's clever bluff before angrily storming off, probably to dominate the platter of some other unfortunate platter.

Thank god he left, Chrys muses, His eating was making me sick. She returns Atlas's smile with one of her own, charming and pretty enough. Perhaps she is not as much a manipulator as he is, but she was raised in a world which required knowledge on how to deal with others. Now that she is leader of a rebellion, a position that could mean death for her and those beneath her should she mess up, that skill has come in handy several times. "I've never seen you here before. What's your name?" he says, sincerity confirming her suspicions that he doesn't know her. She is usually rather good at sneaking in when called, and otherwise blending in is no large challenge for her. Knowing this, she decides to play along as though she is new here.

"I'm just extra help for the event. I do believe, though, that common courtesy dictates that one should give their own name before asking for that of another. Chrys, though," she says with a playful smile, embracing the role quite easily. She has had to play many roles in her life, after all, and knows how to draw them out like cards.

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Character Portrait: Benjamin A. Wallace II Character Portrait: Chrysanthemum Keller
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"I'm just extra help for the event. I do believe, though, that common courtesy dictates that one should give their own name before asking for that of another. Chrys, though."

Atlas raised his eyebrows at her response. "Common courtesy is in short supply around here unfortunately." He said as he reached for a shrimp from her plate. "Isn't Chris a guys name?" He asked before biting into to shrimp. As far as he knew, is was still a mystery to her and therefore he held the power in the conversation. "Is it short for something, like Christina? Or did your father really want a son that bad?"

The technician examined the waitress's face, he found her full lips to be attractive, but her gorgeous eyes were what set her apart from the rest. If he was stupid enough to believe in love, he was sure he could find it in those eyes. "You're very beautiful you know that." He said simply. Atlas was no one to beat around the bush and although he really didn't have time to flirt with the new help, he couldn't break away from her just yet.

"My name is Atlas." he finally told her with a grin. but his smile quickly went away as he noticed his boss, Edwin walking around the ball room, [crap, if he see me out of uniform- wait, why do I care, I plan on killing him tonight anyways. Still, no need to have a confrontation with the bastard if i can help it.[/i] he looked around at all the security in the place tonight "Sorry, I got distracted by all the devils in this room, if I didn't know better, I'd say we were in hell." Atlas looked at his watch, it was almost time. "I really must be going soon, I have an appointment I really can't miss." He told Chrys, "but before go, I must ask, will I see you again?" Atlas asked with his smile returned.

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Character Portrait: Benjamin A. Wallace II Character Portrait: Chrysanthemum Keller
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"Common courtesy is in short supply around here, unfortunately." Chrys's eyebrows shoot up at his response, her playful smile evolving into a smirk at his statement, which she naturally finds herself inclined to agree with. She has heard, of course, of the young man before her's tendency to go around charming the women who work -or live- in this wretched manor, and realizes that his words may be selected simply based upon the fact that she is of the lower classes, not because they reflect his actual opinions. He doesn't appear to have allegiance to any side but his own, she muses, not sure whether to respect or resent that. She can recall a quote that she has read before, which seems to apply quite well to the calculating young man before her: "The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality." Aligning only with one's own interests, though probably intelligent, is just the same as allowing horrors to continue, as far as Chrys is concerned. People like Atlas are part of the problem, in the end, even if they never technically order an execution or abuse the lower classes. Allowing it to continue for one's own benefit is a particularly spiteful decision, indeed. "So I've observed," she responds coolly.

"Isn't Chrys a guy's name?" the young man before her inquires whilst going for one of the shrimp cocktails on her plate, of which there are very few. The young woman, once more, must fight the urge to sigh. She has heard that too many times to count, and never ceases to be impressed by the attention people pay to obscure details. His next words are somewhat typical as well, badgering her for the full extent of her name. "Is it short for something, like Christina? Or did your father really want a son that bad?" Chrys smirks at both of these options, for both are wrong, though in varying degrees. The latter is even more inaccurate than the former, if only because her father, should he still be alive, is completely ignorant to her existence. For all she knows, he could be one of these filthy leeches, rubbing elbows and ignoring the plights of the poorer people. One of these days, they will regret taking so much and leaving so little for the rest of us, she promises herself, not for the first time, as her eyes slide over the disgusting opulence which dominates the scene.

"Wrong and wrong, sorry," she says, not giving her actual name for two reasons. The first would be because that would make things just a tad bit too easy. The second is simply because, ever since she began to realize how stupid it is, she doesn't disclose the full extent of her name to others. In fact, only a handful of people know it, and she refuses to respond to it when directed towards her, unless it is Kent, because he is her closest friend. Even then, the response is usually one of irritation. What kind of name is Chrysanthemum, anyway? Especially for someone who is supposed to be leading a rebellion against the corrupted bureaucracy of the current era. It sounds more like what someone would name a pet rabbit than a child, after all.

Then, somewhere out of the blue, he compliments her. "You're very beautiful, you know," he says bluntly, staring at Chrys relatively intently. Living the life that she did, Chrys is quite accustomed to hearing such things, despite the fact that -away from work- she doesn't exactly act the image of a lady. "Is that so?" she smirks, raising an eyebrow playfully. At least this gives her an excuse to not be walking about, and keeps many of the disgusting nobility away for the moment. Still, the distraction, though necessary because she needs to be on Atlas's good side, is getting in the way of her observation of the ballroom. There is a reason for her being here, and it is certainly not because they needed extra help, though that is her excuse.

"My name is Atlas," he finally gives away his own name with a grin, as though it is some fascinating fact.

"Oh? Taking a break from the sky?" she says, the jest probably overdone. She notices his sudden distraction, of course, and glances over her shoulder for a moment, noticing a Marcus on the move instead of the person that Atlas's attention is actually on. He looks back at her and makes an excuse for his distraction. "Sorry, I was distracted by all of the devils in the room, If I didn't know better, I'd say we were in hell," he comments, confirming Chrys's inaccurate belief that he had been looking at the top bastard. Well, it is a minor mistake, anyway.

"Don't be so quick to believe that you know better," she advises, "Anyway, aren't you just another one of them?" She is continuing with the act of believing that he is just another member of the upper classes with this little rhetorical question. He checks his watch and looks back towards her.

"I really must be going, I have an appointment I really can't miss," he says, something which should be an apology but doesn't really come out as one. She expects him to leave then, but Atlas lingers for a moment before smiling again, oozing charm. "But before I go, I must ask, will I see you again?" Aaaaand, there it is, Chrys observes at his question, viewing it as another may view a punchline to an extended joke.

It won't do to say no, of course. Still, can't be boring, eh? she reminds herself whilst smirking at him with a glitter, half real and half synthetic of amusement in her eyes. "If you know where to find me, I suppose," is the response she settles on in the end before wiggling her fingers in a motion of 'goodbye' and turning around to take the rotations of the platter, and to refill it. She can't just stand around all night, after all. After finishing off the platter, which only takes a few moments thanks to the gluttony of that elderly man from before, she disappears into the kitchen.

"I need more shrimp cocktails for the tray," she informs the cooking staff, before leaning against the counter while they prepare it quickly. Good thing I came: I've been needing to scope out that Atlas fellow.