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

Latest Discussions: Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library » Game Theory » The Hidden Void » Removing CS From an Indy Universe : Solution » On the Matter of New Players and Orphaned Plays » STOP BLAMING US FOR RPG BEING SLOW! » Polytheism » The Game of Life » Just War » Science and Philosophy »

Players Wanted: 18+, 1x1 Multi. Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for 1 on 1 roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ٩( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players » Here, At the End of the World (supernatural mystery drama) » Seeking Role Players for a TOG Based RP » so I made a Stranger Things RP idk why not come join »


Grace Anne Whittaker

"To live would be an awfully big adventure."

0 · 278 views · located in Tresslington, Yorkshire Dales

a character in “The Village: 1914 to 1920”, as played by SilentButterflies


Grace Anne Whittaker


"And it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity." - Thomas Hardy

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Nicknames: Gracie, a pet name that Grace absolutely loathes. It stuck amongst family members, courtesy of her two brothers who use it to tease her about her naivety when it comes to the outside world, a world that they have done well to keep her away from.

Occupation: If it can be called an occupation, Grace is the daughter of a wealthy aristocrat but aspires to one day publish a novel, much to the distaste of Lady Elizabeth.

Height: 5'5"

Build: Slender, Grace has a somewhat boyish figure.

Hair Colour: Dark brunette

Eye Colour: Dark brown

Scars?: A small burn scar on the inside of her left wrist that she acquired when she was younger, from becoming too curious about the inner workings of the kitchen.

Brief written description: There is no mistaking that Grace Whittaker is a pretty girl, with long chocolate brown tresses and large, expressive doe like eyes; she is very much representative of delicate young ladies of her class and of her era. However, being far from perfect, it is the imperfections that create the finishing touches to Grace, building a character with a rather raw and naive kind of humanity. In stark contrast with her dark hair is a pale skin tone that can sometimes only be described as sickly, creating the image of a frail kind of character, much to Grace's frustration and much to the delight of her brothers, being that it apparently gives them just another reason to shelter her away from apparent outside dangers. Grace has naturally very high cheek bones and a heart shaped face that adds to her innocent appearance, making her altogether uncomfortable with the way that she looks. Wishing to break free a bit from her family and from the suffocating control of her brothers, if only Grace weren't so small and young looking, she might find it easier to feed the curiosity that is constantly niggling away at her.

Clothing preference: Being from a strongly class orientated background, there are certain expectations that are put upon Grace to look a certain way, so she can often be seen in upper class finery and jewelry that is telling of her status. Although, living in a small village can often make it difficult for her to keep up with the latest fashions, but this doesn't mean she doesn't try. With political upheavals and the slow liberation of women, Grace can often be found trying to keep with the times when it comes to her clothes, trying new and daring city fashions, must to the distaste of her family.

Skills: Grace was home schooled from an early age, and so holds all of the skills that are expected of women of her social position. She can play the piano fairly well, as well as paint and complete stitch work to an acceptable standard. However, as well as being average in the arts, Grace also took it upon herself to learn literacy, mathematics and language skills, paying particular detail to writing and reading. Having been cooped up in family life for most of her life, Grace uses writing to let her imagination run riot in a way that she isn't allowed to.

Quirks: - If Grace gets frustrated, which is often, a pink blush will creep from her chest to the top of her neck until she's calmed down. Furthermore, she gets fidgety if she feels trapped, often chewing her lip or maybe pacing around the room.
- Anger often leads to tears with Grace, especially if she's frustrated with someone.
- Being as stubborn as she is, if Grace looks away from you during an argument, it's because she's given up trying to convince you. It also means there's no way she's ever going to see your side of the story.
- At least once a day, Grace chooses something to write a descriptive paragraph about. It can be a view from a walk, or just a pebble she found outside. She believes that practice will improve her writing skills and take her one step closer to her goal.

Likes: + Long walks
+ Autumn weather
+ Writing on parchment
+ Sneaking out of the house
+ Spending time with Sara
+ When her brothers treat her like a sister, rather than a child, which isn't often
+ Talking to different people, hearing their stories
+ New fashion
+ Feminist theory

Dislikes: - Fighting with her brothers
- Spending too long in her mother's company
- When people treat her like a child
- Her brother's behaviour towards women
- Being indoors for too long
- Getting ink smudges on her hands
- The class system, because she doesn't really understand it
- Cook's leftover stew, yuck!

Fears: ~ Despite the freedom it might give her, the thought of her brothers having to go to war.
~ Illness and hospitals, even with the medical advances that have been made recently.

Written description: There is a certain amount of predictability about Grace's character, given her upbringing and the nature of her background. She is well to do for want of a better term, and has an air about her that can only be representative of the upper classes. The delivery of herself is soft, feminine and somewhat delicate and she is well aware of the expectations upon her to act in an appropriate way. However, contradictory to this, if Grace disagrees with you, or you in anyway cross with her beliefs, she can change instantly, becoming stubborn and strong-willed with the click of a finger. In many ways different from her mother, Grace likes to think of herself as a modern lady, or at least that's what she tries to be, when she is able to escape the barriers that her brothers have created for her. Grace has always had a deep yearning for adventure and often her curiosity can get the better of her and sometimes even get her into trouble. She almost has a childlike naivety to her, believing wholeheartedly that the world is a good place, you just have to search hard for the positives. Having second to no life experience however, she can often be found surprised at the cruel nature of some individuals as she has rarely been exposed to such behaviour. Grace is a kind girl, who likes to ignore notions of class and becomes increasingly frustrated when the hierarchy is upheld for the most pointless of reasons. Willing to speak to anyone, the Whittaker daughter can be stubborn to the end, often like a dog with a bone who won't give up on anything she truly believes in. She's usually willing to help if you need it but has been known to speak before she thinks, and doesn't have a great deal of sensitivity. Don't get her wrong, she doesn't mean any harm but with her lack of real people skills, sometimes her mouth can get carried away with her.

Relationship Status: Single, Grace likes to think of herself as a strong independent woman.

Family: Lady Elizabeth Whittaker (mother), Lord Andrew Whittaker (father, deceased), Henry Whittaker (eldest brother), Joseph Whittaker (twin brother).

History: Grace Whittaker was born in the village, on an early May morning, exactly ten minutes after her twin brother. As expected, she was whisked away rather quickly from her mother and given to her nurse maid, who brought the two twins up as if they were her own children. Grace has never been particularly close with her mother, and she merely tolerates her presence with a respect that she has been taught to provide for her elders. Their mother and daughter relationship is somewhat formal, with very rare displays of affection. It isn't that the two don't get on, but Grace simply feels as though she doesn't know her mother and that it is too late to get to know her. She is sure that she wants nothing but the best for her, but Grace often thinks that her mother will only want this as long as the best comes in the form of hierarchical expectations. She's aware that Lady Elizabeth doesn't appreciate her strong-willed persona and her stubbornness at times but she refuses to drop her beliefs for someone who is somewhat of a stranger to her. Grace's relationship with her mother has always been distant but they aren't afraid to exchange pleasantries to keep a harmonious household.

As a child, Grace often sought comfort either from her nurse maid, a solid mother figure that her own mother didn't provide, or from her two brothers, her twin especially. As a bit of a tomboy at heart when growing up, Grace loved to run off with her brother to explore the grounds of their home, often returning with her long cream dresses caked in mud and leaves, much to the distaste of Lady Elizabeth. Similarly, many other little girls of Grace's age, that she was expected to grow up with weren't particularly fond of her and her boyish antics and so she often had a hard time with other children in the village. At one point, Grace became quite a shy little girl, during which period she met Sara. Being wary of how Sara would treat her after so many bad experiences with other children that weren't her brothers, Grace thought it best to treat Sara with the contempt that she thought she deserved, trying to hurt the other party before it could hurt her. This feud went on for quite some time before the two matured and actually realised that, despite their differences in backgrounds, they actually had a lot in common.

During her childhood, there was an absence of a father figure, as Lord Andrew Whittaker died in a carriage accident shortly after Grace and Joseph were born. It made sense then, for Grace to attach herself to her brothers, almost as a need to replace the father figure that she didn't have; she especially looked to Henry for this, expecting protection and love if she ever hurt herself outside or something of the like. The three children grew up to be quite close, so it's no wonder her brothers are so protective of her now. But as Grace became older, she became more and more restless as Henry and Joseph's protection of her grew. Many times have they burst into heated arguments and with Joseph being like he is towards women these days, Grace has become somewhat distant from the two of them. Of course, she still loves them to bits and always approaches them if she has a problem, but with her want for freedom and their ever-growing worry, the most recent clashes have been inevitable.

Secret Word: Village Life

So begins...

Grace Anne Whittaker's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


Sara clapped as the Morris dancers jig came to an end, the small bells tied to their ankles and wrists ringing out upon the steps. She clapped along with the crowd, her lips curling into a happy smile, she had always enjoyed the morris dancers, even as a little girl it had been one of the highlight of the day for her. As a youngster she would even try and join in, but unfortunately the rhythm of dance was something which had escaped Sara, it was often said she had two left feet, but nobody could fault her spirit and willingness to try. The large crowd began to disperse, each person setting off to enjoy the remainder of the day, whether it be drinking in the pub-like she suspected most men would be doing-or simply milling around the village green, watching and participating in the various activities taking place on that day. Sara, herself was rather looking forward to watching the cricket match this afternoon, but right now her attentions turned back to the stall.

“Good Morning Sara, dear” An elderly woman’s voice caused the young Clarke girl to look, a smile ever bright upon her pretty face, “Good morning Mrs Pope, how are you fairing today?” Sara greeted in a friendly manner. “I do hope Mr Pope is recovering from his fall, me and papa have been most worried about him.

The Popes had been living in the village their entire lives; they surpassed the Clarkes and most of the other inhabitants of Tresslington. It was quite a romantic story actually; they had been friends since infancy and fallen in love as youngsters, only to marry at sixteen. Unfortunately children had not come to them and so as they grew older their wellbeing was left in the hands of the other, and now at eighty-two years old, it would seem that Mrs Pope had the burdens of an elderly and disabled husband to care for, along with her own ailments. Perhaps burden was not the correct word, for Sara saw no resentment within the woman’s eyes, only adoration for her husband, but she did feel sorry for her. Hence why she took it upon herself to help the woman when she could and visited regularly and it was acts of kindness such as this which truly defined Sara, The Popes had been much like surrogate grandparents for the young woman, all throughout her life and even more so after the death of her mother. “He is doing much better love, thank you and that pie you made cheered him up a great deal. Is your father coming down today? I wanted to find him and thank him.”

“I’m honestly not sure, he had gone on a call before I left the house this morning.” Sara explained as Mrs Pope sighed heavily, “Your papa works to hard” she stated bluntly, causing a slight smirk to appear on Sara’s countenance, it was true; George Clarke did work too hard. “Well, please be sure to tell him that when you see him, he does not listen to me when I try and tell him.”

Mrs Pope offered a small laugh, before placing an affectionate kiss upon Sara’s cheek, “well I’ll let you get back to your stall, come visit us soon, we would love to hear you read one of those stories you have, they do cheer us both up.” Sara smiled warmly, truly grateful for the woman’s affection, “of course I will.” With finally goodbyes, Sara watched the elderly woman go with a small smile, only to be broken when a voice sounded from behind her.

"Come on, now Sara. It's a festival, and you're still working? You know one day you're going to work that pretty face to death." With a playful roll of her eyes, Sara turned sharply on her heels as she shook her head of honey blonde curls, “Mr Alistair, that is very hypocritical of you don’t you agree?” she scolded playfully before laughing, “Besides…” she began, reaching out to catch the apple, “It’s volunteering, not working and I promised Mrs Lyons and I am not someone to break my promises.”

Less than a few seconds later, Grace Whittaker approached, adding her own voice to the pot and again Sara rolled her eyes, “oh don’t you start aswell.” She shook her head for a moment, before looking between the two, “where are my manners! Morgan this is Grace Whittaker, Grace this is Morgan Alistair.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Henry Whittaker

As many of the towns people have started to enjoy the cerebration of the May Day festivities, Henry Whittaker was busy at work at the small little newspaper company. This is usually how it goes every May Day. Henry will work late in order to be ready for the next day and end up being even the slightest bit late anyways. Not only does he have to put out all the newspapers, but he also have to go around and do mini-reports on the festivities.

Grabbing a few stacks of newly-printed newspapers, Henry walked out of the shop, putting the stacks in the pouch his paper-bag that he connected to the front of his bicycle. Sure, usually they'd have a young boy standing out doing the 'Extra! Extra! Read all about it!', but Henry's always been that kid, the other kids of the community working hard on the farms or at school, or merely not doing it on behalf of their fathers. Henry doesn't mind though. It gives him a chance to get out.

Riding his rusted bike down the old dirty roads, being careful not to hit anyone walking by, he nodded and waved to all he passed. He wasn't in his usually wear. He was wearing a white button up shit tucked into his trousers. He wore not tie, but a very loosely done bow-tie. The biggest thing that was missing from his wear was his hat, revealing his dirty blonde hair combed back. He was obviously in his working garb.

As he road his bike, he stopped and gave a paper to a few men who paid a nickle. As he road, he saw Vera Ruene sitting at a bench, he flashed her a smile and almost crashed into a guy on the road, but quickly steered away, then he saw his sister over by Sara Clarke, who was obviously working a stand. So, Henry thought that might as well be a good place to have the papers, considering it's Sara. He steered his bike over, coming to a stop over to the side and propping it against the wall. He took out a small stack of newspapers and sat them over on the table. "Hello Sara, Morgan, Grace." He said as he gave a quick nod to the each of them. "How's the day doing you all?" He asked, putting his hands in his pockets. "Oh, forgive me, would any of you like a paper?" He added, picking up a few papers to hand whoever wants one.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


Sara watched the scene between Morgan and Grace with intrigue, her blonde head tilted ever so slightly as she bit down into the apple, savouring the sweet taste. She caught Morgan’s wince immediately, it was common knowledge that the Village smith was more of an introvert, he didn’t have many friends, but then again not many people gave him a chance, however this wasn’t his usual awkwardness at meeting a new person, this was something different. "Half of my work is of the nature of volunteer work, and it may still kill me one day. You really should loosen up one day, Sar." Sara nodded along to his words, matching his lop sided grin with her own, she suddenly felt a little guilty at scolding his words. It was true, too many people around here were too quick to use Morgan’s services, but very few actually paid him for his time and that was just deplorable to the young woman.

“I am loose enough, thank you very much,” Sara grinned retorting to his words, “I like working this store anyway, it gives me a chance to see everyone.” she admitted with a quick shrug before taking another bite of the apple. With her attention still fixed upon Morgan, she continued to notice the subtleties of change within his demeanour the longer he stood within Graces presence, the way his eyes would flicker towards her friend and the way he would shift uncomfortably in his position, it was definitely intriguing.

"Hello Sara, Morgan, Grace...How's the day doing you all?" Lulled from her curiosity, Sara turned to face Grace’s brother, Henry with a warm and welcoming smile. “Hello Henry” she greeted cheerfully, “oh yes please, papa and I always enjoys reading your newspaper”. Reaching out she took one of the freshly printed broadsheets from his arms and ran her blue hues over the front page, taking a mental note of the articles she would read later on. Placing it down upon the table, Sara turned back to her friends, laughing as Grace enquired about her other brother Jasper, she agreed with the latter, he was probably off chasing some poor girl around.

“Would any of you like some cake?” Sara asked, looking between the trio gathered before her, “It’s Victoria Sponge and I made it myself.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: Rose Francis
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Rose walked down the streets, stopping here and there at booths and making friendly conversation with people. Some only gave her a look and turned on their heels. Some people would never get over themselves and the fact that Rose had every right to be running her late husbands house. He had left everything to her thus giving her the right. Thankfully since her brother moved in the talk had slowed some, but there were still those few who would never get over it. This made Rose sigh as she walked away from some women she tried to make conversation with, but had turned and ignored her.

She stopped at one booth and bought herself some chocolates. She thank the woman kindly as she paid for it and walked away, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Soon she came across some dancers. She stood there watching for awhile, a small smile on her face as she enjoyed the scene. She loved watching people dance, it was so graceful. She wished she could have that grace, but she knew she was too clumsy. She'd end up tripping and falling on someone, probably injuring them in the process.

As the dancers finished up she clapped and slowly started walking again. She saw a small group gathering around a refreshments stand being run by Sara, a girl she enjoyed talking too. She was about to make her way over that direction when she heard two women whispering stuff about her. She whirled around to look at both of them. "Why worry about the rumors revolving around me when the rumors about you having an affair are going around? Rumors, might I add, are apparently true because you went to see him this morning. I can tell because your wedding ring is missing." She spat at the woman who was the one whispering quite loudly so that everyone around would hear. The look of shock and horror was plastered all over the woman's face. Rose spun around angrily from the women and stormed off towards the refreshment stand.

As she walked up she heard Henry ask the group if they'd like a paper. "Oh may I please have one of those Mr.Whittaker?" She asked politely with a friendly smile. She then looked at the rest of the group with the same smile. "Good morning everyone." She said sweetly, her eyes landing on Morgan before she quickly looked to the ground. She didn't have a problem with him, but she remembered her late husband did. He always treated him poorly and spoke badly of him which made Rose wonder what had happened. Her husband was always kind to everyone, but Morgan was practically the worst person ever to him. She wondered if her husband had once tried to get him to come home with him like he did so many other men, but he refused him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: George Clarke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


George Clarke was obviously not in the midst of the festivities like his daughter. This came as no surprise to any of the villagers, in fact, for they all knew the doctor took his work more seriously than, well, everything except his daughter. He would probably starve to death or catch a cold before he refused a patient. Even George admitted there was truth in the statement. He wasn't one to deny his services, even when the patient was unable to pay him back.

On May Day, he was at the home of a farmer, his wife, and his young children. They were a sweet couple, Mr. and Mrs. Wood, and everyone knew them. But, come harvest, they always managed to just make it. Most villagers truly believed each coming harvest would be their last. How long could a family like that survive. According to the eldest boy, who had come racing to George's office, the patriarch of the family had stepped in a badger's hole that morning, twisted his left ankle, and was unable to walk. With medical bag in hand, Dr. Clarke followed the boy closely with a brisk pace.

At the home now, he wrapped the foot tightly, which caused Mr. Wood to gasp in pain. George's gaze averted from the foot temporarily to look up at the usually loud, boisterous young man. "Here," he held out his free hand, which caused the injured man to look back in confusion. "Squeeze it when the pain becomes unbearable." Mr. Wood nodded at the explanation and grabbed George's hand, already crushing it into oblivion before the doctor had begun to wrap the foot again. Finally, he wrenched his hand free and fastened the fabric so it would stay in place. Hand throbbing horribly, he stood and brushed his trousers off.

"You did quite a number on it, I tell you," he joked, clapping the man on the shoulder softly as he walked toward his bag. "I don't believe I've seen a sprain that bad since...well, I can't recall seeing a sprain that bad. I'd suggest filling those badger holes- if your plow horse steps in one, I can assure you it won't be pretty."

"Aye, Doc," Mr. Wood explained, shifting his position slightly so he could face George, to which the doctor quickly raced back and shifted the man into the position he was before.

"No moving, sir," he scolded, sitting down on a couch across from him. "Rest it, keep ice to it, compress it, and elevate it, you hear?" He counted off on his fingers, giving the list to him of what to do. "And if you do any work before it heals up, your wife better tell me." The last part he said a bit louder so that Mrs. Wood heard from the kitchen. She gave a quick, "yes, Doctor", in response. Satisfied, George stood and finished packing his bags.

"How much do I owe ya, Dr. Clarke?" the incapacitated man asked, trying to shift again. He stopped when George looked back, though.

"Nothing," George said simply, lifting the bag as he moved toward the door. "You take care of yourself, that's all." He opened the door, but stopped when he heard Mrs. Wood exclaiming and hurrying toward him.

"Doc, ya can't just leave without payment," she said, trying to scrape together money in the palm of her hand. "W-we could get ya the money in a week's time, I swear!" He shook his head and stepped back on to the pathway.

"Good day, Mrs. Wood," he said, avoiding her words. As he walked briskly down the path, she hurried along, offering him a share of their profit that harvest, or a pie, or even just a few vegetables. Again, he called out "good day, Mrs. Wood!" and continued on his way toward the market where, perhaps, he'd be able to run by him daughter. She'd grow angry if he didn't attend today. He was certain of it. Most of the villagers had probably assumed he wouldn't show his face and, instead, would stay at his office all day.

Entering the town square, a few passerby offered a smile to him. George continued to wander sort of aimlessly between stalls in the crowded town until, by some miracle, he managed to find himself by Sara's stand. “Would any of you like some cake? It’s Victoria Sponge and I made it myself.” The voice was easily recognized by George. He'd raised his daughter years by himself and had listened to that voice grow and mature, from saying her first word to reciting passages out of books.

"Do you have a piece to spare for an old man?" he teased. George certainly was not old by many of the villagers standards. At forty years old, he was actually quite young. Yet, among Sara's group of friends, he was considerably older. Turning his attention to the two Whittaker siblings, he smiled and gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. "Mr. Whittaker, Miss Whittaker, how are you two today?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Whittaker Character Portrait: Sara Clarke Character Portrait: Grace Anne Whittaker Character Portrait: George Clarke Character Portrait: William Gibson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Akiyo
With his chores finally done Nathaniel washed in the house and put on his favorite outfit that made him look more like a gentleman than a farmer. Henry had done the same as ordered by Audrey who had prepared her brothers clothes as per instructions by their mother. When Will and Margaret returned home their children were ready. The whole family, not in their nicest, but certainly dress casual, left together for the festivities at the town square.

"Any problems with the crop?"

"No sir." Nathaniel answered to his father who walked with barely a limp.

Margaret, arm tangled with William's, listened quietly to William and Nathaniel discuss the day's work. Henry and Audrey both did the same and trailed a little further behind Nathaniel.

"Any orders I need to make for feed?"

"The chickens will last another two weeks, but the cows are done with the hay. Jake isn't eating much, he might be sick."

"No, he's just tired. I pushed him hard yesterday on the back acres."

"What if he doesn't eat tomorrow?"

"He'll eat." William said as any worry for his only horse had set at the back of his mind. Jake had shown similar behavior in the past.

The Gibson family soon joined the crowd and dispersed, save Henry who had to stay with Audrey after he had been caught tryin to steal food with some friends of his. Nathaniel moved through the crowd, looking for friends of his. William and Margaret made their way through the market, sampling and purchasing what caught their interest. All the time maintaining their spending limit for the festival. When they saw Doctor Clarke they waited for him to finish talking at a distance that wouldn't impose on his conversation.

When he was finished they would approach and say, "how are you doctor Clarke? We just arrived moments ago."