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Ashleigh Myerson

0 · 144 views · located in New York

a character in “the way we were”, as played by Sunflower

Description



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❝Elegance is beauty that neverx fades.❞
Good As Hell - Lizzo
Motivation - Normani
Memories - Maroon 5



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F U L LXN A M E
Ashleigh Nancy Myerson

N I C K N A M E
Ash

B I R T H D A Y
10/01

A G E
Twenty-five

S E X U A L I T Y
Heterosexual

E T H N I C I T Y
African-American

H O M E T O W N
Orange County, CA

H E X
#B19CD9



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S T Y L E
here.

H E I G H T & W E I G H T
here.

A P P E A R A N C E
here.



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L I K E S
here.

D I S L I K E S
here.


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P E R S O N A
here.


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H I S T O R I A
here. Please provide basic backround for your character, as well as how they met the group initially, what went wrong between them, what they’ve been up to since, and what brought them back to New York.


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R E L A T I O N S H I PXS T A T U S
here. This whole section is optional but can help flesh out a character.

T A L E N T S
here. This whole section is optional but can help flesh out a character.

S T R E N G T H S
here. This whole section is optional but can help flesh out a character.

W E A K N E S S E S
here. This whole section is optional but can help flesh out a character.


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So begins...

Ashleigh Myerson's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rebecca Cruze Character Portrait: Kyle Monahan Character Portrait: Erin Monahan Character Portrait: Soren Bowers Character Portrait: Nathan Miller Character Portrait: Alexander Yang Character Portrait: Arisa Winston Character Portrait: Khepri Mahajan Character Portrait: Lauren Clark Character Portrait: Ashleigh Myerson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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N a t h a n Miller
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outfit - #D6CF13
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The days between the party and the funeral blurred together in Nate's mind. There was always something to do, always seemed to be someone who needed him (he would always be there for his friends, of course, all they had to do was ask), and he had- for some reason- offered to pick up the some of the slack at the bar for Erin. Once things calmed down, he would have to ask her to never let him take on any extra responsibilities again. He felt overwhelmingly stressed, and desperately wished for his life to return to some sort of normal. His police interview had gone fine, he thought, but the whole thing made him nervous. He didn't have much faith in the police: his experiences were of them not believing him, and ignoring most of what he said. He didn't care about not being able to go far: he'd never left the city, anyway.

When he got the text about the funeral, he had honestly considered blowing it off. He and Lauren hadn't been close enough to be considered friends in a couple of years, and he knew it would feel strange to be there. He'd feel like someone showing up, pretending to be upset over something that, had he not been there the night she died, wouldn't have bothered him enough to take more than a moment out of his day. Your friends will need you there. He told himself, knowing that should have been enough to get him to agree to go without hesitation. He wondered, though, how much they really needed him. Every last one of them seemed to be doing just fine, and he felt like he was stuck in the past.

He knew he needed to go, though, and he even dressed up as much as he could. There was no way he was wearing a tie, or even a collared shirt (not that he even owned one), but he did his best to be appropriately dressed for the occasion. Everyone might have even been impressed, had he showed up on time.

But there he was, notification on his phone, barely readable through the cracked screen, Lauren's funeral starting in now. He was still a few minutes away. He started walking a little faster, and tried to take in his appearance as he did so. He had dirt all over his clothes, and a brand new rip in his pants, right on the left knee. He sighed, angrily, having really wishing his day had gone more like he'd planned it. He stopped, right outside the hotel, and tried to brush himself off; clean up a little. But he felt like he'd only made it worse. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the doors: his hair was a mess, he was sweaty, he looked like he'd gotten in a fight.

He tried to sneak in quietly, as he could hear that the service was begging, but he felt eyes on him as he slipped into the back row. He quickly found a seat and slouched down, as if trying to appear small. He tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone and briefly wondered if it would have been better if he hadn't come at all.