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 โ€” the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: 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 » The Bible as Literature » Humans in the MV. Questions and thoughts. » Surviving the post-holiday apocalypse. » SL: 1097 Bestiary of Monsters »

Players Wanted: 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 ูฉ( ยด๏ฝฅัˆ๏ฝฅ)ูˆ » 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 » LFP - New Roleplay » Gifted/Mutant individuals escaping the gov » Spaceship Zero! A retro horror sci fi RP with rayguns :D »

0
followers
follow

Elisabeth Whitefield

"Just an honest, hard working girl. Now move along, before I make you."

0 · 142 views · located in Arcania

a character in “TiV: Rebirth”, originally authored by MayContainPlagiarism, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Elisabeth Whitefield

Age
21

Sex
Female

Role
Staff, specifically a "Sanitary Engineer" as her contract reads as negotiated, but she shifts between cleaning and serving as the train requires. This is not the full extent of her duties.

Appearance
Elisabeth is an attractive, young woman who boasts a nimble and strong body by force of diet and exercise. She never allows her hair to reach her shoulders and keeps her eyebrows and eyelashes trimmed and plucked respectively. She doesn't wear makeup and dresses humbly when not dressed for work. Through careful practice she has cultivated the look of an innocent and aloof servant girl (though hardly acts the part) sans makeup and eschews jewelry of any kind.
Image

Height
5'10

Weight
135ibs

Personality
Elisabeth is a difficult girl. She honestly believes a detached, dispassionate, blunt persona is the most effective for conducting business and protecting her charge and the train. She hides (though not very well) a biting tongue and judgmental tendencies. Her friends are few, equally by choice as by demeanor. Her patience is incredible, especially when dealing with William Caeronvar, with whom most of her free time is spent. She is, at her core, a survivalist, a realist, and a cynic.
Elisabeth is a co-dependent; she's an emotional leech with a number of issues stemming from her childhood that has left her with a crippling need to attach herself to someone else. Her confidence, grace, stature, and intimidation is inspired by the object of her obsession, though she doesn't realize it.

Mannerisms
Elisabeth was born with a degenerative eye disease that left her blind as a brick very early into childhood. While this is discussed below, it is important to note here that, as a result, she did not learn to smile, shrug, grimace, and other methods of nonverbal communication as a child and suffers from it in conservation. It is sometimes difficult to gauge her reaction to a threat or joke due to her lack of reaction (or improper reaction).
Elisabeth slowly picks up the habits and mannerisms of those she associates with.

Likes
1. Her job. Before boarding the Rooster, being a bodyguard to William didn't pay well but it was exciting.
2. Her official job. Cleaning and serving leaves her with enough down time to study and exercise; it also pays well enough to excuse William's frugality and feeds her. Little of her money is spent on extravagance or friends; she finds joy in wealth by through its collection, not its use.

Dislikes
1. Romantics and heroes.
2. Quitters of anything for any reason.
3. Useless information. Facts and figures of kingdoms long dead clog the mind and have zero practical applications.
4. Plasma weapons. The smell of burning flesh is an insult to the nose; the whine of singed air boiling away is hurtful to the ears; the lack of marksmanship requires and wanton destructive capability is an afront to the nuance of ranged weapons.
5. Cowards and complainers.
6. The irresponsible.

Sexual Preference
Bisexual, with male preference.

Abilities
Elisabeth is a dedicated athlete who sees exercise equipment in the least likely of things. Her diet is limited to the train's stores, however, and cramped corridors are no place to build cardio. She isn't a strong swimmer or distance runner despite the endurance she can employ in lifting, pushing, climbing, cleaning, and serving. She's a smart, attentive girl who can quickly grasp new concepts, but her lack of formal education has left her intellectually stunted. She has only recently become a competent reader, and not of her native language.
The blind childhood did not grant Elisabeth superhuman senses to counteract the loss, but Elisabeth does have an ear for language and the fluctuations of voice in inexperienced liars. The combination of her seemingly expressionless stare, lack of morals, and her hearing makes her an efficient interrogator.

Equipment
Elisabeth is no fan of the cutlass; it is too synonymous with pirates, a class of criminal she despises. She does, however, recognize the value of the curved blade and the broad cutting surface is provides; with that in mind she has chosen to carry this (which she calls a scimitar due to a lack of sword knowledge).
Image It isn't special by any means.

That is too large to carry on her person during normal duties. Her needs for a concealable weapon, as well as her small hands, has resulted in a nondescript revolver being her weapon of choice.

History
Elisabeth was born to poor parents of a communal culture with a degenerative eye disease that rendered her blind as a brick during infancy. Her condition was treatable and-while it would not have restored her vision to perfection-her parents refused it. Instead her father's money was spent on parties, drinks, and worse for his friends and family. As a young child, poverty was the singular consistency of her gypsy upbringing. While starvation and homelessness were never threats, she despised her family's financial misconduct, inability to save or plan, and the carelessness that stripped her of her sight.
Then, a lifeline was tossed: A shady man offered to fix her vision. Elisabeth's interest wasn't in experiencing the world the way everyone else did; it was to escape her parents. Over a matter of weeks she was pricked, prodded, syringed, and chanted over. She began to better understand the dominant language of Arcania (which her family didn't speak) and cooked and cleaned in a workshop miles from her home.

And in a flash (then blur, then bleary-eyed squint and migraine), Elisabeth could see-and the first thing she saw was William Caeronvar, the pissant pampered over-achiever who had been volunteered to clean the workshop. Their meeting was short (she distinctly remembers telling him to "Draw a picture, it'd last longer" even though she didn't understand the expression at the time) and subsequent meetings were few and far between until Elisabeth, feeling confident with her new vision at the ripe young age of fifteen, left to explore the world.
And quickly found herself working for a pirate named Alexander Castion.
Not surprisingly, a young woman without any skills or business experience wasn't able to survive on her own for very long. But she caught Alex's eye and served dutifully without incident for several years. She saved her pay until her contract expired. Rather than renew it, she left Alex's crew (on peaceful terms) and again tried to strike out on her own.
It didn't work the second time; Elisabeth couldn't handle her money and found herself in the employment of a far less respectable and morally lacking petty criminal named Bugsy Seigal. She smuggled without asking what products were being moved for two years, which occasionally led to run-ins with her old captain. Whether she was too proud or simply wanted to impress him isn't clear, but she never told Alex of the destitution that followed a month after her departure.
After those two months, Elisabeth (for the second time) met William Caeronvar in a bar at a nameless station. She had planned to intimidate (maybe kill) him into paying his debts to her boss; for reasons she herself still doesn't understand, she left that bar as his new employee.
Elisabeth followed William to the Rooster. He used the Rooster's need for a mage as a negotiating point and secured her a position on the train, officially as a maid-janitor (as needed) but more importantly as his body guard.

So begins...

Elisabeth Whitefield's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elisabeth Whitefield Character Portrait: William Caeronvar Character Portrait: Alexander 'Doc' Atreides
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Elisbeth and William, as detestable as the mage might be, were right about one thing. Other people were, in fact, already awake and doing their jobs. One such man was Alexander Atreides, although most folks called him Doc aboard the train that actually knew the man. Several hours prior to those two awakening, the good Doc was already awake and moving about his humble cabin. He was one of the more senior members of the combat force, both in an age and positional manner, so he was required to attend the three meals with the rest of the important members of the crew. No, required was not the word used last time he skipped out for a week doing his job. Requested was the word he remembered, considering the daily reports he was supposed to keep a running record of. Supposed to, being the key words. He didn't like relying on paperwork to keep track of security matters, it could too easily be forged and altered. No, good security came from better methods then that. And he relied on his memory to keep a running tally of crew, passengers, authorized and unauthorized individuals and where they were and weren't supposed to be. Others used paperwork and notebooks, but not him. But he digressed, as he shook his head clear of that train of thought with an amused smirk. Morning routine, he needed to shave before getting dressed and arming up.

Walking over to the small sink, if one could call it that, Doc went about sifting through his medical bag until a blade that suited his purposes was found. Splashing his face with water, he carefully cut away the unwanted facial hair. He kept the sideburns and mustache trimmed and neat, as it was part of his look after all. If one could not take pride in what they chose in grooming standards, how could they stand going out and dealing with the public world on a daily basis? They couldn't, and as he finished cleaning himself up and washed the small blade off, he made sure it was sterile before returning it to his medical bag. He believed in clean equipment, infection was a terribly irritating complication to have to treat, after all. And it was so easily avoided to, he lamented, as so many other practitioners seemed to always forget. But with his daily grooming finished, he dressed himself in his work attire of choice. Button up white undershirt, tucked into his trousers so no excess hanged about. Sleeveless vest, also tucked into his trousers to prevent unprofessional hang about. Pulling on his dress shoes and tying them off nice and snug, he grabbed his shoulder harness, with his pride and joy already holstered. Emerald Herald, chambered in .44 Magnum, was a cannon in and itself, and it was also something he never discussed. But he did talk to her though, an odd quirk of his as of late. "And good morning to you, Emerald Herald. Ready for another hopefully uneventful day, I hope?"

With her secure, Doc pulled on his coat and straightened it out, buttoning his cuffs as he looked over himself in the mirror. Pocket watch slightly dangling out of a pocket, no matter how he wore this blasted coat, that thing never stayed in his pocket. Cleaning off his glasses, he replaced them and grabbed his rifle, which he wore openly slung over his back. His medical bag at his side, just in case, he walked out of the small cabin to do his morning rounds. He checked on passengers that had gotten ill during the trip and ensured they were as comfortable and well treated as he could manage, crew that had injured themselves since his last check, and in general made note to have anything that was a waiting accident fixed by the appropriate persons, should they be in any position to do so. Swinging by his cabin to start his security sweep, he grabbed his bowler hat, since he was going to be on the outside of the train for periods of time to verify physical security of the exterior. Securing it on his head, he began checking the various nooks, crannies, and various areas off limits to non crew to make sure no one unwelcome had wandered back in those spots, on purpose or by accident. Diligence required him to get up as early as he did, and the check between cabins, and outside where he could readily reach while in motion, were without incident. Doc finished his personal routes in time for breakfast, according to his watch. Shame he didn't find anything to preoccupy him from such events.

Doc wasted no time making his way to the very same, very posh, far too elegant portion of the train. He entered to find two others already having arrived, and he quietly wished he really did not have to be here right now. Ms. Elisabeth Whitefield he had no problems with. Professional, did her job well, and caused no trouble, all things Doc could gladly work with. And there came the other one, the Mage. William Caeronvar, considered himself the single most important man aboard this ship. That sort of ego just rubbed Doc the wrong way. But he never betrayed that, that would give him too much satisfaction no doubt. Instead he smiled briefly, removing his hat for the sake of manners and inclined his head in a brief bow to both of them. "Ahh, good morning Ms. Whitefield, Mr. Caeronvar. I do hope both of you had a quiet night's rest and the morning finds you both well."

Ms. Whitefield had already claimed the best spot for watching the door, but Doc contented himself with a spot near the door, but on the side it would swing towards, so he would be obscured by anyone walking in either unwelcome or welcome for a critical few moments. Well enough to have Emerald Herald drawn and ready to ventilate their heads. And he could keep all the windows tracked as well, in case some pirates attempted non standard boarding methods. But beyond that, he quietly served himself a light breakfast while he awaits the rest of the crew to arrive and the brief to start.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elisabeth Whitefield Character Portrait: William Caeronvar Character Portrait: Alexander 'Doc' Atreides Character Portrait: Nathaniel "The Priest" Kain Character Portrait: Miandra Vrahl
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by RCJJ23
Nathaniel had sat in the small room that had been deemed the chapel, for the better part of the morning. It had various religious symbols of many major religions, and despite first and foremost being a disciple of Cairn, Nathaniel had provided some insight and advice to the more religious passengers and staff. Objectively, of course. He wouldn't allow his own faith to disrupt others. He wasn't one of the Dogs of Cairn anymore, despite his own armaments and armor saying he was. He had removed all symbols of the Order from it, despite the difficulty in doing so. It was nearly time to eat breakfast, so he said his last prayer before leaving the chapel.

"Cairn, may you guard our souls and stay thyne blade and gift us another peaceful day, but if you demand it, may you guide my blade and let my shots fly true, for it is in your name that I do all that I do. Azen."

Nathaniel stood. He had only dressed in his plain grey t-shirt and oak brown slacks, though he had both of his weapons on him. His chainsword was clipped to his right hip while his revolver was in his holster on his left. He would pull on his armored robes first. This would take him the rest of the time he had, which was about twenty minutes, before breakfast would start to be served.

By the time he had reached there, a few of the crew had already sat down and started to eat.

"Good morning Ms. Whitefield, Mr. Caeronvar, Ms. Vrahl, Doc. I trust it has been a peaceful morning so far?" he said in way of greeting. He saw that both Alexander and Elizabeth had both taken the more prime spots for defending the doors into the dining hall, he decided to pick a spot next to Alexander. He was more likely to be spotted than him, but it would still give him ample time to react. Besides, his armor would likely take the shot or stab for him, and it wasn't like he was extremely slow or anything. He served himself a heartier breakfast than Alexander did, but still on the healthy side. He ate in silence, until someone spoke to him, or was addressed generally.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elisabeth Whitefield Character Portrait: William Caeronvar Character Portrait: Alexander 'Doc' Atreides Character Portrait: Mackenzie Mahrone Character Portrait: Nathaniel "The Priest" Kain Character Portrait: Miandra Vrahl
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Imp
She had let herself to a few short moments (sitting moments even) of peace, dozing of as she stared out the window without really seeing much at all. For a second or two, her own reflection caught her eyes. She looked oddly fair there in the glass, as if presented with a more refined version of herself.
A less tired and greasy one at least.
She frowned, but then smiled a little, giving her a small dimple at the corner of her mouth. Silly thoughts to have indeed.
The contents of the platters before her soon caught hold of her interest as her insides once again recalled to her the fact that it indeed had been a morning without breakfast. So far. She threw a quick glance around her as the dining compartment kept filling up with the rest of the Roosters meaty content, then peaked under the lid of the platter closest to her. Eggs.
The people around her were more or less familiar. She hadn't really talked much to anyone. She had only been aboard for a few weeks, and those weeks had mostly been spent trying to show off in order to keep her place aboard. Luckily enough, she had found herself knee deep in what could only be called "The Great Rooster Mess" and with a long list of things to do. She believed herself to have done good so far.

As "The Doctor", or at least that was what she'd begun calling him in her head, entered, she turned from the window and faced the room more frankly. He was a hard character to miss, even aboard the Rooster. She had know to place her feet when around him from the very beginning. His greeting to two of the never arrivals was as dressed up as the rest of him. One of them, a girl she believed to be called Ms. White... Whitefield it was, apparently, as she overheard or rather listened to the short conversation, gave the impression of not being someone whom the word "effortless" would ever match. But Miandra did not mind that at all, as long as the work got done properly and all. The man, on the other hand...

"...I'm asking because you left it on a stack of other people's stuff without strapping it to anything..."
She quickly looked back at the young woman again.
...It's a small box sitting on a big box. Even if it slides, it has plenty of room...
Her eyes went to the man again.

"Oh, really.."
She mumbled to herself, feeling her mood slowly turning fouler. That man, was the reason she had been up all morning tapping pipes in order to find the source of that sound (that had been the crater-of-apparently-THAT-mans-books-banging-against-an-air-went)? She followed the rest of the louder parts of the two's conversation with her chin in her hand as her elbow balanced on the edge of the table behind her. These two, or at least the man, did not sound a bit better than some of the more self-proclaiming passengers. A thought that only made her irritation grow. To her surprise, this young stripling rose up and approached her with a greeting. A quite smirky one at that. She leaned her head back in her hand which made a stripe or two of her blond hair loosen themselves from behind her ears.

"...You,"
She said as her frown grew a little,
"Are absolutely right."
She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, pouting out her sore chin in a slightly challenging way.
"That box of yours isn't that heavy,"
She waved one of her fingers warningly,
"...what really amazes me thou, is that you apparently found it easier to staple your, if I may say it myself, rather heavy, box upon all the other crates, instead of just.."
She gave up both her hands in an ironical gesture
"Well, I don't know. Just strap it to the floor hooks like the rest of the smaller junk?"
She widened her eyes in a faked expression of pure amazement, and then replied to the priest, Mr Kain's greeting:
"Peaceful? I wouldn't say that. But I guess I'm hoping for lunch now that I'm done hunting crates for the morning."
She turned to the Roosters Engineer, whom had just entered.
"Hey, Mahrone. I apparantly need you to close off the air through some sections of the cargo's vents. I need to weld one of the vents back in place."
She glared back at man in front of her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elisabeth Whitefield Character Portrait: William Caeronvar Character Portrait: Alexander 'Doc' Atreides Character Portrait: Mackenzie Mahrone Character Portrait: Nathaniel "The Priest" Kain Character Portrait: Miandra Vrahl
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Doc quietly chewed on a piece of his breakfast meal while listening to the mage dig himself deeper and deeper into a hole that would threaten to bury him alive under alienation and hate from his female coworkers he was so rudely making insinuations towards. For the sake of a peaceful remainder of the trip he would have to speak up. Well, not him specifically, but someone should probably at least attempt to curb the man's tongue before it got him any deeper into the shit list than it already apparently had. So with a quiet clearing of his throat to redirect momentary attention, Doc spoke in his 'medical professional' tone of voice that was reserved for trying to prevent someone from doing something, or continuing something, incredibly stupid. Because, like the egotistical damn mage or not, he was necessary until they reached their destination at a minimum. "As the on board medical professional and adviser, Mr. Caeronvar, I would highly recommend you cease that particular chain of commentary and offers. Some might find them offensive, and considering the able crew members you are dealing with, a couple stitches and mandatory bed rest won't be nearly enough to assuage the damage done should you push someone over their natural limits."

Could Doc repair damage short of outright murder? Certainly, enough to get the mage in a condition to keep the train moving forward as scheduled. But none of the parties involved would enjoy that experience one bit, and he could guarantee that. And hell, Doc thought with an internally amused smirk, if the Mage went and got himself killed by Ms. Mahrone his fellow in security, Mr. Kain, could see to it he had a proper burial as they figured out how to get the train the rest of the way to its destination. In continuation of keeping the situation defused though, he directed his next small statement at the two engineers, Ms. Mahrone and Ms. Vrahl. "And if it proves necessary, Ms. Mahrone, Ms. Vrahl, that our....Proud mage is going to get his head clubbed in, do please inform Father Kain so he has time to drum up something nice to say at the funeral. And try not to do it on the train, or else I would be further obligated to make an attempt to keep his insides right where they belong, inside the skin and bone, where applicable."

A slow smirk was on Doc's face, so whether he was really joking about what he said, or not, was certainly up in the air. But it was clear he addressed most everyone the exact same, in a respectful and polite manner, barring William Caeronvar on occasion. Bad blood with egotistical and egocentric mages faded slowly, and only in the face of positive examples. Mr. Caeronvar was hardly one. But he had indeed addressed Mr. Kain subtly differently, in a manner showing a more friendly vice strictly professional approach. Working security alongside the man tended to create such situations, and while Doc himself was not a religious man, he respected the beliefs of others in that regard. It was none of his business what a man, or woman, believed so long as they did their jobs to the best of their ability. Beyond that, he treated the various members as respectfully as he could, which for some was not nearly as much as for others, and never told them how to do their jobs. They did not tell him how to fix a living person, so he did not tell them how to fix their professional problems, so long as it did not interfere with security of the Rooster. He did finally respond to Kain, having addressed the situation at hand as best as he could for now. "As peaceful as one could expect with this crew, Father Kain. The morning security sweep is taken care of, so all you'll need to worry about until the PM is the spot checks and alarm response, should one be raised. I hope the morning has found you without conflict thus far?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elisabeth Whitefield Character Portrait: William Caeronvar Character Portrait: Alexander 'Doc' Atreides Character Portrait: Mackenzie Mahrone Character Portrait: Nathaniel "The Priest" Kain Character Portrait: Miandra Vrahl
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by RCJJ23
Nathaniel continued to eat his breakfast while he listened to the conversations going around the room. He paid no mind, but he was still ready to stop any fights breaking out. They'd need the mage to keep the train moving until they reached their next destination. He turned to Alexander after finishing his current mouthful.

"Well, none of the rowdier passengers have thought it amusing to try and pick an argument in my or other people's faiths during the time I was in the chapel, so yes, the morning has been peaceful so far. I do hope that it stays that way." The last point was in general, and slightly directed at the situation that was occurring in the confines of the dining hall.

After finishing off his plate, he waved over one of the serving staff to take away his plate, and asked for a glass of water. He pushed back a bit from the table, still sitting on the chair.

"So... up for a spar later?"

It was nice enough to practice every now and then against an actual opponent. It added that layer of fighting someone that honed your own skills. Of course, he knew the Doctor would win. Most of his attacks were lethal, and as such, illegal to use against a fellow member of the crew. Still, it was good to hone his skills against another.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elisabeth Whitefield Character Portrait: William Caeronvar Character Portrait: Alexander 'Doc' Atreides
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Imp
Miandra, stared at the oh-so-very-indeed stripling in front of her.
"An ointment?!"
- She said, her voice peaking a little. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She could hardly hear the rest of his words over the pulse in her head. For half a second she found herself dumbfounded with the mans response.
Was he trying to maneuver about...?
She threw a hasty glance at The Doc, glad that apparently she was not alone in the belief that this man infront of her was as slimy as he seemed. As soon as her confusion landed, she felt offended. Slightly uncomfortable over the fact that this vain piece of man had tried to muffle her up by some sweet talk, she now frowned and felt enraged enough to lose temper. He could at least have handed some bickering (growing up in a big household, that was indeed her standard) back to her instead of this giberish, treating her like some kind of helpless and vain whatnot. She gave the rest of the crew a quick look around as the mage acted out his unfit way around the rest of the rooms poor company. Her eyes landed for a few seconds on the girl behind this Mr. Caeronvar, Ms. Whitefield. The young woman gave the impression of being more or less accustomed to the mage's, as the doctor had implied, act.
I'm not even sorry for her, I'm just purely amazed at how she can stand it.
She gave a small hint of how-can-you-even... in her facial expression, then, slightly depraved of all hopes of having a nice morning at all, turned back to Mr. Caeronvar
"Vrahl"
- She filled him in, now getting as angry as she would ever want to allow herself.
"And more so, way more Vrahl than you could ever try to put some..."
She waved her hands in a snide gesture, rising up from her chair and striding foreward.
"...Ointment on!"
- Her voice grew a little as she poked her finger in his chest, a small hissing expression dancing over her forehead and at the wings of her nose.
"Now why don't you, Mr.Caeronvar, strap that greasy little tongue back wherever it came from, so that the only one doing some welding today is me, and not the poor Doc. Or I'll gladly show you exactly where we we're!"
She was not to be tamed or dressed up like a silly little thing to put in ones pocket.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elisabeth Whitefield Character Portrait: Alexander 'Doc' Atreides Character Portrait: Mackenzie Mahrone
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Imp
Miandra nodded as Mahrone spoke, hoping that the woman would be done with her duties early. There would perhaps not be much time later, since The Rooster was approaching the city with speed. She felt a small struck of dismay at the thought, because it might mean that she would have to take up some of her time off the train to manage the situation in the cargo hall. She had been really thrilled over their destination. Clear Blue... The thought of being able to roam the streets for a whole day even... Maybe even find a good place to have a cold beverage and dance... She blushed a little at the thought. But she really loved to dance. The rhythm and the music...
As Ms. Whitefield approached, she stared at her blankly for a second or two, unwilling to give up her swirling-dreamingly-thoughts of drunkenness and long skirts.
"Nah... Thank you kindly Ms. Whitefield, but I don't think that to be very necessary, unless you know how to weld."
She gave the girl a small smirk,
"...I won't judge you or your apron depending on your company..."
- She crossed her arms over her chest, giving a frown and a hint of annoyance in her voice:
"...as long as you don't feel like That One needs all of his front teeth.
She remembered The Doc,
"I'll have to get going, see you later Mahrone!"
She turned to the door and on her way out hastily said over her shoulder:
"Enjoy your day, Ms. Whitefield!"

She gave the corridor outside a quick sweep with her eyes.
"Hey, Doc?"