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Mabel North

0 · 445 views · located in Modern Day

a character in “Wicker House”, as played by LogantheCope

Description




ImageName: Mabel Addison North

Nickname: N/A

Age: 24 // Feb 10 // Aquarius // INTP

Gender: Female

Physical Description: Mabel worries very little over the same things that most other girls tend to worry about. Clothing styles, make-up, and her general appearance are usually haphazard. Her long strawberry blond hair is almost never brushed, and always an unmanageable mess so she usually just leaves it alone. Never dying it or doing anything other than running her fingers through it each morning to comb it down. Her eyes are light brown and some would say a little too far apart. Mabel always wears large and loose clothing, as she isn't entirely comfortable with wearing anything that will show anyone her unnatural skinny body or the scars that adorn it. Most of her sweaters and hats are hand-made, and she is always wearing both no matter what the temperature. Most people wouldn't notice Mabel, a mixture of how quiet she is and how small she happens to be.
She stands at 5'2"and isn't exactly the picture of beauty, but in her
own way has plenty of pleasing features.

Personality: Often lost in thought or coming up with crazy ideas. Mabel is smart and intuitive, but often gives in to her insecurity. Hiding is something she does rather well, and often. She doesn't like feeling vulnerable or scared, and tries to avoid any situation thats going to put a lot of pressure on her. She doesn't handle stress well, and has a tendency to do radical things for little to no reason at all. Among the many strange and bad things she is there are a few good sides to her that makes her a more affable companion. She is a pacifist, hates conflict, and always considers her words before she says them so that she doesn't offend or cause a fight. Though this side of her is often conflicting with the side of her that is always seeking to tell the truth - no matter how harsh it may seem. By no means is Mabel unintelligent, in fact shes rather smart but as of recent hasn't had the will to put her knowledge to good use.

A Brief History: Mabel grew up in a bad neighborhood, lived with emotionally abusive parents, and spent many years of her life coping with being a lower class citizen. As a teenager she rebelled against the law, broke rules that should have never been broken. Because of it she spent several months in juvenile detention and graduated from an alternative disciplinary highschool. After graduation she lived in and out of her parents home, often because she would lose her job as quickly as she would get one. The only job she could ever hold was at a Factory. She kept that job for a short two months before an accident occurred that injured her back. Thats when all her problems officially began. It started simply with pain killers, taking more and more each day until she couldn't get her hands on them anymore. Eventually she upgraded to heavier drugs. Partying all night and sleeping all day. Her parents were fed up quickly and forced her into rehab programs, none of them ever did her any real good. It took an intervention to finally get her to see what was so wrong. Since then shes been trying to go cold turkey, unwilling to let her family lock her up in some rehab center just because she has a small problem. She does out patient care and is living primarily off of the good graces of her parents until the income from her job at the nearby Grocery Store can start paying.






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Describe what happened on the open-house you attended that made your character take the plunge and become a tenant?

This is the end of the line.

Her body is burning hot to the touch, yet all she feels is cold. She tries to get a steady grip on something, arms striking out to grab the back of the drivers seat. "Pull over," She gasps, lurching along with the car as it rolls to a stop. She opens the door without a second to spare and vomits all over the pavement. From the corner of her eye she can see the Taxi man looking back at her disgustedly. Mabel sniffles, wiping her sleeve over the back of her mouth and quickly slamming shut the door. She can't exactly say shes surprised when the driver offers to drop her at a hospital. Mabel knows she looks like a wreck, but she also knows the only thing a hospital would do for her is cause some sort of relapse.

This isn't a new or strange thing to her; being sick comes with the territory of having withdrawal. Shes going on two weeks without a single hit and its driving her crazy, but hopefully she can manage to go even longer without it. If she can't then everything from this moment on will be a waste. Including the opportunity to live on her own, away from her worried hypocritical family and be close enough to a rehab facility that she can deal with out patient care. Even though nobody wanted her to go she just couldn't be around them anymore. Not while shes still trying to get her feet back on the ground. The further away from them the easier she can breathe and the less she longs for the sweet release of a needle.

"That'll be thirty bucks" says the driver.

Mabel pays him in singles and change, its all she has to spare until she can seal the deal here. When she looks at the Wicker House she isn't sure whether the sudden cold chill she feels is from the sight of it or from her own sickness. Something feels strange here, but she doesn't exactly know why she feels this way. She has to remind herself that its a new place, and she isn't exactly living here yet. But even as she thinks of her other living options she knows that nothing will be as good as this. She loses herself in thought as she draws near the door, taking in as much of the scenery as possible.

Its really a beautiful place, a little old looking but usually the things that have been around the longest are the most detailed. Shes never seen anything quite like it before in her former neighborhood. Comparing her home growing up to this would be like comparing a shack to a mansion. Mabel could definitely see herself living here, but her usual indecision kicks in when she really thinks about it. Before she can convince herself to leave she steps through the open doorway, hoping to acquire a sense of finality from the action. She just has to get through this open house, and then she can decide from there whats going to happen. Theres already a few people here and she notices a woman showing some of them around.

Mabel tries not to look out of place as she examines a few rooms on her own, silently assessing the state of the home. Its very nice, and she thinks she could probably find some way to get along with the other tenants as long as they don't happen to be rude or anything. Hopefully she won't have to be dealing with the cold chills and fever for too much longer, she knows it only gets easier the longer she goes without. Luckily the initial stages of nausea have subsided, and she can focus more clearly on the task at hand. Its a bit of a stretch to imagine herself making friends with complete strangers here but she hopes that she can at least be peaceful with them. Mabel barely registers that her mind has already been made up, her always drifting thoughts completely focused on the house and thoughts of living in it.

She spends the rest of the time exploring and watching the other people as they do the same. The house is so much different from what shes used to, and thats the thing that really sells her on the idea of living in it. Its only a few minutes later that her cell begins to ring. Her mothers name and picture popping up on the screen. Mabel exits the house to avoid anyone who may be listening in on her, and pauses just at the end of the porch.

"Yeah," She pauses, stifling a smile as she turns back to look at the house. "I've found a great place to stay."

So begins...

Mabel North's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North
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Waking up after a sleepless night spent trying to stop herself from shaking awake every ten minutes is awful. Her head hurts, eyes refusing to open. Her mouth is cotton dry and tacky with dry drool at the corners of her lips. Probably from sleeping with her mouth open all night so she could get a sufficient amount of oxygen since her nose seems uncooperative. She sniffles, the pressure in her head increasing as she gets up. Her bare feet hit the cold floor and she shudders from the contact.

She doesn't even know what day it is. But she knows that its been long enough that she shouldnt be as sick as she was on the day of the open house - that in and of itself was a horrible experience once she left and had to endure another long Taxi ride to retrieve her stuff from home. Returning nearly a day later with two bags of useless junk she should have just left home.

She hasn't been here long enough to have memorized where everything is yet, but she tries her best to navigate towards the bathroom. Taking a quick glance in the mirror and hating herself for it. Her eyes are bloodshot and framed by heavy dark circles that stand out against her skin. Her lips chapped from being dry for so long. And as usual the rest of her is a disheveled mess.

Mabel strips and showers before anything else, throwing on a loose long-sleeve shirt and a pair of sweats once finished. She doesn't bother with much else besides brushing her teeth to hopefully keep the smell of vomit from taking up permanent residence in her mouth. She returns to her room feeling a little better, despite the throbbing in her skull.

Her few possessions are littered about like trash, her clothes already being formed into an untidy pile on one side of the bed. She'll have to clean soon if she wants to get ahead of the inevitable chaos this room will soon become. Her stomach grumbles, and she knows she should eat something, even if she doesn't feel up to it. No use getting into one bad habit after kicking the first.

On her way to the kitchen she spots one of her new roomates Theo on an old couch. She isn't quite sure why he's sleeping on the couch but from the looks of him there's a good reason. She pauses to tentatively touch his shoulder, leaning in to check that he's breathing alright. She gets a faint whiff of booze and sighs. Once satisfied she steps away to continue her kitchen journey, though she wasn't all that worried in the first place; simply the idea of one of her roommates ending up dead for whatever reason freaked her out.

In the kitchen she spots two more occupants of the Wicker House, Haven and Olav. She casts her eyes to the floor as she passes by to get to the fridge, digging around for anything that isn't going to upset her stomach too much. She notices some sort of announcement written in bright blue letters. Dinner...tonight, probably some kind of housewarming thing. Mabel isn't sure shes prepared, but resolves to at least show up.

She settles on making toast when she decides that its too much work to try and eat anything else. At this point she's been ignoring the other two in the room but with the toaster being so slow she has time to examine them a little, trying not to make it obvious.

"Hey there," she says, feeling a little awkward for being so quiet.Thankfully once the toast pops she quickly eats and flees the kitchen in an attempt to avoid any further uncomfortable situations. God what a nightmare.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Mabel North
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Sunday Morning//11:35 am//Wicker House



Haven pulled her hair up about the same time she pushed the fresh-made pie crust into the freezer to cool, and it piles on top of her hair, strings of the red flowing down about her face. The oven is very old, so much so that it takes her a minute to figure out, but she does, like she always does, and it's preheated to 400 degrees and she has a bowl set out on the counter, her wrists hurting. She rubs them absently and stretches, shifting her head from side to side. Sleep still dots behind her eyelids, but she fights it off. She does this every day, she's done it for two years, a new house will not make her lazy.

The smell of pecan-pie filing is quite strong, and heavenly, but so unlike the light scents of the pastries she normally makes that it seems to assault her, both in good ways and bad. She feels like she won't have a clean palette for a week, now, but butter and booze mixed together with pecans and brown sugar-- she has to admit it smells amazing in it's own way. The pie crust is a minute from done, but it's almost twelve already (she may, or may not have, started over multiple times-- she can't have bad pie now, after all-- and stopped in the middle to go upstairs and find her mixer in one of the boxes, as she couldn't work with the one in the kitchen).

There's a sound from the corner of the kitchen, and for a while Haven doesn't look up, but when she does, as she pulls the now-golden pie crust from the oven and kicks it shut with her book. It's Olaf-- her roommate.

"Morning Ginger, what's cooking?" he says, quite cheerful, and she smirks.

"Food, what's it look like? Pecan pie, if it turns out right," she says, pointing with a free hand towards the blue writing on the board as she blows air through her lips, pushing a bit of hair away from her line of sight. She brushes a way a bit of brown sugar and sets the pie crust down, humming lightly as she grabs the whisk and the bowl of filling, whisking in a few eggs. She doesn't totally ignore Olaf, but she isn't exactly the most friendly person in the world. Still--

"You want a latte? Coffee, anything? I work at a cafe, you know. I make 'em good," she offers, mostly out of habit. She's used to offering drinks to people while she cooks, and even if it's easy to get on her nerves she's nice unless tempted to not be (no matter how easily tempted). She's learned when it comes to being an entrepreneur-- no matter how weak the definition-- it's always best to be on everyone's good side, that way they don't stab you in the back later.

The pie crust is still very hot as she pours the filling into the tin, making sure it's quite even. She pours a few more pecans on top and sprinkles it with a bit of brown sugar, then she shifts her body and pushes it into the oven, on the bottom rack. It'll be done soon-- 40 ish minutes. She smiles and washes her hands off in the sink, pulling her hair down in one fluid motion. She's watching her handiwork when she hears another voice-- small, very quiet.

"Hey there," the voice says, and Haven turns on her heel. It's Mabel, and she looks quite frail. Haven is used to the type, but she doesn't say anything.

Haven knows what "quitting" looks like-- she's seen it fail and she's seen it work. In New Orleans plenty of people 'quit' things all the time, but Haven was a peddler of many things, back then, and many of them would find their way to her eventually. She could get them whatever they wanted, drug wise, and if they wanted something else hard to come by? Well, it wasn't like she was unaquainted with other less well-respected members of the community, even when she was so small and not even 16. She can remember one person, the same age as herself, stuck in a corner puking his guts out, and when she'd tried to help him-- because by god he needed help-- he offered her a wad of cash and told her what he wanted from her. He knew her face-- he knew what she had on her. Haven didn't refuse him, she needed the cash (she always needed the cash). They'd found him dead, later, and Haven felt like it was her fault for needing the money he gave her. For giving him what he wanted.

Haven shook herself out of this thought-train before the look of sadness could become too apparent on her face. Instead, she looks at Mabel:

"Hey--" she begins, but then the toaster clicks (when did she put toast in the toaster?) and Mabel books it out of the room.

Haven shakes her head lightly and shrugs her shoulders, rolling her eyes lightly as she hums a little louder and begins to clean all the pans and pots she used in her baking.

Once it's done she'll put it on the counter to cool, and hope to god it remains untouched.

For the first time she actually begins to wonder about the other people in the house-- Theo's either out on the couch or awake, now, but Haven doesn't care enough to check, and Olaf seems nice enough (at least, he's talking to her), but she does't know anything about the people she's living with, which has just now struck her as quite odd.

Haven's life in it of itself hasn't been completely cookie-cutter, in any way, and honestly... honestly if she were in their positions-- she probably wouldn't want to live in the same house as herself. Then again, they all got this house from a Craigslist ad. In general none of them were probably the best, richest people in the world. Haven stood up a little straighter, her toes curling into the wood, as she moved towards the coffee machine, intent on making coffee for herself and perhaps Olaf, if he had some.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Mabel North
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#, as written by Olav
"You know how to read my mind, Ginger..., " Olav said, looking rather amused. "I like my coffee bitter as Korean ginseng and dark as midnight. Hope you remember that! "
Olav sat at the kitchen table and watched Haven work her magic. It was almost as though the kitchen was a living entity with her in it and had some sort of symbiotic relationship with the girl.

He heard Mabel enter the kitchen and acknowledge them. Before he knew it though, she was gone with a whiff of toast following behind her.
"She must be a shy one... " Olav said quietly to himself, looking rather intrigued.

"So.., " he said while Haven was brewing the coffee. "What do you like doing when you're not working at the cafe? "

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North
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#, as written by Attie
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While Aimee had done her morning up well before the others bothered coming out, and bought groceries to replace the ones she'd used -- and also for the supplies for dinner that night -- she didn't feel an ounce of 'tired'. Since she arrived back at home she'd restocked the shelves and refrigerator (( I assume before or between Hazel's presence in the kitchen. )), she'd made her way back upstairs and took the world's most refreshing shower. On the brink of cold and luke warm, with the new toilettries she'd bought the night before, Aimee stepped out on to the bathroom's tile flooring.

Call it paranoia of an older house, but she could have sworn she heard someone knock at the door of the bathroom. With a towel wrapped around her torso, covering her only semi-modestly, she poked her head around the door. "Hello?"

No answer.

It was probably just the noise of people getting up, opening their doors, going downstairs -- at least, that's what Aimee told herself. Back inside the bathroom she elected not to put her old, dirty clothes back on. She wasn't ashamed of her body in any way, and why should anyone be? They're bodies. So, with the same towel wrapped around her, one arm holding the dirty clothes, and the other arm carrying the tote that had her toiletries in it, she walked the whole ten feet from point A (the bathroom) to point B (her bedroom).

She shrugged on a pair of yoga pants over a clean pair of underwear -- she would never deny herself the comfort of those things, whether or not she worked out every time she wore them -- and then slipped on an airy tank top. She never bothered with a bra, because let's face it, when you're somewhere between an A and a B cup, you really don't need a bra unless you're trying to create something that's not there for a certain outfit. Aimee'd learned that trick in high school.

The next couple of hours were a mixture of yoga, aroma-therapy with her oils, and finally, a quick nap. When she emerged from said nap, she re-braided her hair over her shoulder and stepped out in to the hallway. Now, Aimee decided, was the time to go meet her roommates. She wasn't nervous, per say, but it was still a challenge for her to be who she was and not who would fit in to the group more.

Step One: Go in there, and announce your presence with a smile. -- No, not because smiles are nice, but because you are nice.

Step Two: Introduce yourself. The enigma of your identity is ridiculous in a house of people you'll be sharing with for at least six months.

Step Two-Point-Five: Listen to their responses and memorize their names.

Step Three: Tea. And under no circumstances will you chameleon to their personalities.

Step Four: Remember the excuse in case you need to escape in an emergency: "Oops. I forgot I left my oils cap open and they'll evaporate if I don't go right now." Yeah. That's a good one. Oh God.

Aimee opened the door, stepped backwards to shut it behind her, and when she turned back around to make her way down the hallway she smacked right in to something -- no, some one. The collision didn't have a lot of momentum, so it didn't leave either of them falling over themselves, but Aimee was quite certain she'd have a headache form near her temple from smacking in to whomever this poor -- oh God, booze-ridden soul -- was.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Whatever pain had come of it, smelling the booze immediately reminded Aimee of what a hangover was described as. -- Yes, that's right, she'd never had one before, but her mother and father had. People were not very nice and easily irritable under the influence of the morning after booze-induced highs. "Can I, um, get you anything? I was going down stairs."

Shit. You forgot Step One and Two. Fix it.

"I'm Aimee."

Oh, sure. Hello, my name is Aimee. It's a custom where I'm from to attack someone in greeting, then state your name. You understand.

"Ifyoujustwannamovealongtowhereveryouweregoingandpretendthisneverhappened, I'dbeokaywithit, nobiddealreally." She gasped for air after all of that and cleared her throat, "I mean.. Yeah, I'm just gonna.. I'll bring you some tea and be back to help you with .. uh.. this."




Whether he managed to get a word in edgewise or not, Aimee was walking briskly down the flight of stairs at the end of the hall behind him and entering the rather busy kitchen. Her eyes lit up as she watched the firey red head in her natural habitat, speaking to her hobby as if she herself were nothing but an ingredient to the masterpiece, rather than the creator. Maybe, Aimee thought, she could be bother. Be a part of the baking, and of it. A blondish guy was around, and by the smell of things, coffee was in the making. Remember your steps.

A flash of her pearly whites emitted from the parting of Aimee's lips as she tilted her corners upright and bowed her head slightly. "Hi there. I'm Aimee, in the far west corner room. You must be..?"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North
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#, as written by Attie
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"Out? Well." Aimee considered this as Theo gave his two cents and exited to smoke. God, that cigarette looked good. The carrier wasn't half bad, but nicotine is an ex-lover that took me a great deal to shrug.

"I think he's right. Let's wait for Haven's pie to complete, and.. Since he'd mentioned the pizza.." That's certainly not what she heard the first time, and.. It's strange, but his voice sounded different, too. "Well, why don't we just eat there. The point was to all meet and 'family bonding' as he put it, and if everyone's up for it, then I'll just cook some other time."

She sent Olav a smile and a wink, "Great thinking, mm? I'm going to go and tell the other girl. I think I saw her in passing head off to her room." (( On that note, I read somewhere that Mabel had retreated to her room, so all of us assuming she was still there was wrong. OOPS. Sorry Mabel! ))

Aimee reached the landing to the stairs, spotting Theo over her shoulder with his cigarette out the door. She thought for a moment to question him about what he'd said earlier, but if she wanted to make this room-mating situation happen, maybe it wasn't such a great idea to confront him about it. No, it's far more normal to accept that your roommate is a cannibal and you'll be living under the same roof.

Up the stairs, Aimee wasn't quite sure where the girl's room was. She check a couple of doors, knocking on each one before cracking open unless she heard an audible 'No'. At this point, the shower was still running -- must be Haven -- so the final door Aimee checked, she rapped the door with her knuckles.

"..Hello? Excuse me, anyone there?" She bit her lip. "I.. The others were going to go out to get pizza. You should come." She pressed her ear to the door, hoping to hear someone on the other side. "Haven's made pie for afterward?"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Mabel North
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Mabels trip back to her room had been fairly uneventful in a way that she assumed she would have been running into more of her roommates and continuing to have awkward encounters with them. Thankfully no such encounters were had and Mabel was able to peacefully find her way back to her chosen room. She waits until her stomach has settled before finding some cleaner clothes to change into. By this point shes a little less shaky, and thankfully some color has returned to her cheeks. Though she assumes thats because of her earlier embarrassment.

'They must think I'm nuts...' She thinks. Plopping down on her bed with a heavy sigh. Her boredom beginning to get the best of her, she almost wishes she would have packed a few books but knew the boredom would come about anyway. Luckily it isn't more than a few minutes later - or perhaps more, Mabel isn't quite used to keeping track of time - she hears a knock on the door and on the other side a womans voice.

"..Hello? Excuse me, anyone there?" Mabel presses her ear against the door, not yet opening it. "I.. The others were going to go out to get pizza. You should come." She isn't quite sure if shes ready for bonding time, but its better than sticking around here. "Haven's made pie for afterward?" The woman finishes, and Mabel nods her head before she realizes that the person on the other side of the door can't exactly see.

"Um..." She considers her words for a few moments, "Hold on just a sec!" She calls through the door before scurrying around to the side of her bed thats piled up with clothes. Most of them need a good washing, but eventually she manages to find a hat and a jacket clean enough to wear, wrapping the slightly too large clothing around her body. She runs her fingers through her hair to tame it before slipping on the hand-knit hat, hopefully looking just a little better now that shes up and about and dressed in something other than what she had been wearing for the past two days. She throws open the door in hopes that the other person hasn't given up on her yet, and is glad to see her still standing there.

"I'm a bit of a mess..." Mabel starts with a small humorless laugh, then stops herself from continuing on her self-deprecating path. If given the chance she would end up listing a million reasons why it would be bad to be seen in public with Mabel - even though Mabel understands its just her self-consciousness talking. Instead she tries for a small, unsure smile and steps out of her room, pulling the door closed behind her. She stares for a minute before the realization hits her that she hasn't even introduced herself, which is something she should have done by this point.

"My names Mabel...I uh, don't know if you knew that already or not." She hasn't really introduced herself to anyone yet, and mentally kicks herself for assuming that the other would already know her name. She shifts uncomfortably, tugging on her jacket strings, trying not to chew on the inside of her lip too much in fear it will start bleeding. "So...Pizza? Sounds good." It actually sounds like a rather bad idea, with Mabels stomach almost always rejecting anything she puts in it. But shes been less sick lately, maybe a single slice wouldn't hurt...and if not then at least she can say she tried, which is something she can rarely say these days. She yawns a little, then covers her mouth with an apologetic look. "Sorry, didn't sleep well."

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Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Mabel North
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#, as written by Attie
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"Um..." The girl behind the door began, "Hold on just a sec!"

Aimee smiled. This was the door. This was a girl. This would be easier than it had been a moment ago trying not to be entirely ridiculous in front of two boths and the girl -- Haven -- who seemed to radiate confidence out of her pores. Not in an unkind way, but she was so carefree-seeming and assertive. Aimee used to be that way, too.

Good God, just go to school tomorrow and see one of the Psych undergrads. They need hours, anyway, to get their degreee.

"I'm a bit of a mess..." Mabel starts with a small humorless laugh.

"Hah! Me, too." Aimee immediately responded, and it came so naturally that she laughed, too.

"My names Mabel...I uh, don't know if you knew that already or not." Mabel went on. "So...Pizza? Sounds good." She yawns a little, then covers her mouth with an apologetic look. "Sorry, didn't sleep well."

"You know," Aimee went on with a odd smirk, "I didn't sleep very well, either. I was up at like six this morning, but I didn't even get to bed until about midnight. - Oh." She blinked to realize when she looked down her attire wouldn't be very suitable for an outing. "Here I am, worrying about inviting everyone when I wasn't even dressed or ready to go." She shrugged an apologetic smile. "Give me just a moment, myself?"

Aimee left Mabel's side if only to enter her own room. She left the door half open -- partially because she didn't care if anyone saw her nude, but also because she was too lazy to go back and shut it when she was already mid-throw-shirt-off. She opened the wardrobe to retrieve one of the dresses she'd bought yesterday. On top of that, she shrugged on a cardigan-- another item from last night's adventure -- and slipped out of her yoga pants. Both the discarded items were neatly laid out on the bed, because if you didn't wear it for 24 hours - or do anything so extraneously physical that you sweat a lot in them, then they were clean as far Aimee was concerned. Finally, she slipped on a pair of cheap white flip flops and entered the hallway once more, eyes immediately checking to see if Mabel was there and she hadn't run off.

"Does this look okay? I, uh, hadn't been clothes shopping in at least six months, and I'm not the best fashionista. Comfy is my prerogative." She flashed a smile in Mabel's direction before rolled her shoulders back and meeting Mabel, shoulder to shoulder with a grin. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm a little nervous," she joked, honestly.

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Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Mabel North
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"You know," Aimee says, "I didn't sleep very well, either. I was up at like six this morning, but I didn't even get to bed until about midnight. - Oh." Mabel nods in understanding. "Its a little creepy sleeping somewhere new," she doesn't really elaborate on her own reasons for not sleeping. But for the most part its true, since her arrival here Mabel has felt strangely about the place. However most of the time she can convince herself that its just because she isn't used to having so much space.

"Here I am, worrying about inviting everyone when I wasn't even dressed or ready to go." Aimee shrugs, giving her own apologetic smile. "Give me just a moment, myself?"

"Okay," Mabel says, finding herself suddenly alone with her own thoughts. She silently congratulates herself on not making a fool out of herself. Glad that at least one of her roommates won't assume shes some kind of shy shut-in. Even if its somewhat true about her. She wasn't this way before, with the drugs, she hasn't been so aware of herself since she was a kid. Back then it didn't matter if you were weird or not, but it doesn't exactly work that way as an adult.

As usual she loses herself in thought, then startles a little when Aimee is suddenly standing with her again. "Does this look okay? I, uh, hadn't been clothes shopping in at least six months, and I'm not the best fashionista. Comfy is my prerogative." Mabel can agree entirely with that sentiment. She flashes a thumbs up, trying to look as natural about it as possible. "Same goes for me, I can't stand uncomfortable clothes." She never has been able to, in fact as a child it was a morning ritual to fight with her parents over having to wear a school uniform, she hates how tight and itchy it was. Even now she prefers loose and soft over anything else.

"Don't tell anyone, but I'm a little nervous," Aimee joked. Mabel flashes a true smile at that, knowing the feeling probably just as well as Aimee. "Secrets safe with me," She answers, using her fingers to do a zipping motion at her lips. Finding it a bit surprising that its this easy to actually hold a conversation with someone. Mabel tries not to jinx it yet. After all its just going to get harder from here, once everyones together at least. "Its refreshing to know I'm not the only one freaking out a little bit," Mabel confesses, then frowns a little bit, "We should probably get going, they might be waiting on us." Although she isn't quite sure, she does know that she doesn't want to keep anyone waiting.

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North
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#, as written by Olav
"We can get there in my cab! " Olav replied. "I can drive it for personal uses when I'm not on duty."
He then realized he was still in his pajamas, sipping coffee.
"Umm.. Give me some time to get dressed real quick! " he said as he ran up the stairs to his room. He put on a pair of blue jeans, a white v-neck T shirt, and a pair of sunglasses. He ran down the stairs, grinning, apparently excited to go out for some fun with his new roommates.
He stepped outside the front door, finding Theo sitting on the steps and taking a cigarette break.
"Looks like we'll be visiting the town in my cab there mate. " Olav said to him as he walked over to his vehicle. "Can you tell them I'm ready when they are?"
He started the ignition, pulled away from the curb, and put on the parking breaks. After adjusting his rear-view mirror, he gave a light honk to signal them to come out.

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North
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Sunday//4:10//Wicker House


Theo had called her Betty Crocker before she went up, that was absolutely charming, or it would have been, if Haven hadn't heard it before. Still, she laughed, because it was still quite funny to her (she often laughed at the fact that her very domestic hobby coupled with a very non-domestic life).

Once Haven got dressed, she found herself in the kitchen again, as Amiee brought down Mabel and introduced her. Haven offered a wave, smiled politely, and nodded. She asked about a ride, and to that Haven almost got out that she did, indeed, own a car, but that it was old and rickety and every time she got into it she feared for her life, but she couldn't complain because it wasn't like it was her car. Though, Theodore offered-- but a ride that fit two wouldn't much help them.

Olav had a cab, one he drove for a living, and Haven was gracious to him when he offered to ride them (for free, which, in Haven's opinion, was very nice. She'd have probably demanded at least gas for a ride in her Death Trap on Wheels).

"Sounds great to me," Haven said, just before Olav noticed he was not wearing "going out clothing" and skipped himself over to his room.





The car was cramped. Very cramped. Terribly cramped. Sardine-can cramped.

Well, she was overreacting-- it was just 'full' or 'at capacity' with four people inside it (with Theo driving ahead) but Haven still didn't like it. She sat in the back, jeering to get Olav or whomever was in the front to change the radio station. She didn't want to seem rude, but she couldn't deal with country music, even so far as a five-ten minute drive.

But, they made it, and Haven wanted to praise the ground she stood on when she got out of the stuffy car.

Haven could almost see her work from here, and she gathered the attention of the whole group and pointed that direction.

"Hey, that's where I work, if anyone wants to come see me," she said, though when she yelled her "yat" (well, as most people called it, Creole) accent got more apparent and her 'that' sounded like 'dat' but she decided not to go back and try to fix her speech-- her mother was a parish girl, her accent was ten times worse, and whenever Haven's got prominent she kind of felt closer to her mother, miles away, in an odd way.

"But, we have sweets at home, so... pizza!" she exclaimed as they all crowded outside of the shop.

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North
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#, as written by Olav
Olav motioned for them to find seating for five. Slightly walking ahead of them, his typical big brother attitude became apparent at the occasion.
"What do you ladies like?" he asked them as he walked over to the cash register. He took a glance up at the overhead menu. "One Large Combination pizza with extra cheese? Sounds right?"
After some thought he placed an order for one that was half combination, half vegetarian. He brought the order number stand and five empty plastic cups to the table, in case anyone wanted drinks, and took a seat.
"So," he said, "What made you ladies decide to move into Wicker? The location is quite nice I should say. I moved in mostly because it's fairly close to my cab company's office. And it seems like alot of interesting stuff is going on in this neighborhood."

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North Character Portrait: William Deats
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#, as written by Attie
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For the most part of the entire trip over, Aimee kept to herself but plastered a genuine smile on her lips. When they arrived, she'd kept close to Mabel perhaps out of habit of always wanting to be nearest to the person who intimidated her the least. This one, she felt, likely had so much in common what with their similar demeanor that she sensed a friendship on the rise.

Fast forward, and she was following Haven and company over to the booth.

"What made you ladies decide to move into Wicker? The location is quite nice I should say. I moved in mostly because it's fairly close to my cab company's office. And it seems like alot of interesting stuff is going on in this neighborhood." Olav asked.

"I needed a place to stay that wasn't given to me out of the kind heart of my employer. I stayed above Hugo's for two years-- I was bored of it. The house's rent was cheap... That's about it, actually." Haven answered.

"--The house's rent was cheap...That's about it actually." Theo gave his own excuse, short and simple.

It was Mabel or Aimee's go, and Aimee opened her mouth to answer when the group of rambunctious college students -- who apparently knew Theo -- interrupted their 'bonding' outing. She closed her mouth to listen to the exchange between the students and Theo, but the only thing worth a damn that she cared for was the words: "Ghost House, actually.'

Now, Aimee was a religious sort - believe it or not - in that she believed in a heaven and a hell. Whether or not Jesus came to die for everyone's sins was irrelevant to her, as she wasn't sure she trusted a book written by man on a creator's opinions on how the world should be run. But, the important part to her, was that she believed there was a place to go if you were a good person, and a place you went to if you were not. Naturally, demons, ghosts, or whatever ruled either 'place' had to be possible.

But did she really believe in ghost stories? I mean, they all seem so fun to listen to, to read about, or to see made in to major motion pictures, but nothing had ever happened to her. And, to consider the source of where this fable was coming from, Aimee rolled her eyes. She'd seen these kids around campus. In fact, the one speaking about the story as if it were life and death shared Composition I with her.

"Have you nothing better to do?" She snapped, back bone in tact and everything.

"Now let's go Mike. I don't want my greek salad to get soggy, leave Teddy to have recover from our awesome bash with his....uh..friends."

"Mmhm. Yeah, well. Alright. That was oodles of fun and not at all painfully awkward, amiright?" Theo chimed once the others had left them in 'peace' or 'pieces', dependent on who you asked, probably.

"What's to be awkward about? They're hardly credible sources on any accounts -- and I'm pretty sure that one guy was still drunk." She shrugged her shoulders of the situation and took another bite of the vegetarian pizza, throwing a wink at Olav, "Oh, and thanks for the consideration on the veggie pizza."




Wicker House - 6:00PM


Ms. Burns dusted her attire - the very same dress suit she wore the day each of the tenants arrived at Wicker House for Open house - and rolled back her shoulders. Her eyes watched as dust flew behind a car driving up the dirt road to the house, a grimace on her features. She stood in the door way of the front porch, the door open behind her.

"Six out of seven," She said, seemingly to no one in particular.

A voice called from behind her, raspy and hollow.

"Upstairs. The last remaining room." Ms. Burns spoke monotonously. After a moment, she smiled with a nod. "As you wish." The door shut behind her and she made her way to the steps to greet the next tenant.

"Mr. Reid. Your fellow roommates seem to have departed for the evening, but I've got a key. This one is for you, and I'll show you to your room."

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North
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#, as written by Olav
"Who were those guys?" Olav asked, looking somewhat disinterested. According to them the house he and his new roommates had moved into was a place of urban legend. There was indeed an unnatural calm surrounding the place, but it didn't quite seem like a place out of a horror story. Olav sat there quietly listening to the kids as he absent-mindedly sipped some soda. He had asked them why they chose to move into this place to break the ice and get a conversation going, and told them that his reason was the house's proximity to his company's headquarters, but that was somewhat a lie. He had done a little research into the house. Perhaps the place had history way back to western colonial times? Olav speculated that people such as explorers, rich oil men, pioneers, and the like having resided in the area. He looked at his roommates, wondering what they were thinking.
"So, " Olav said. "Do you ladies believe those guys? I mean, just because a place is old doesn't mean it's haunted right? Any of you know who used to live there or something? Other than the boy those guys mentioned."

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Character Portrait: Haven Nicols Character Portrait: Aimee Scott Character Portrait: Olav Fossen Character Portrait: Theodore Carter Character Portrait: Mabel North Character Portrait: William Deats
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#, as written by Attie
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Sunday Night

Having gone upstairs to her room to change, just like everyone else had, Aimee was back in yoga pants and the lose tank top. She, too, poked the fun at Theo's shirtless appearance, right after Haven's quip. "Should have told me the dress code. Now I feel underdressed." She smirked, and hardly even bothered further questioning the new guy, but though everyone was taking place in the pie-eating, Aimee walked over to the fridge, grabbed an orange, and began to peel it.

Why not pie, you say?

Pie doesn't taste good after a proper upchucking. Then again, neither does the acidity of a citrus fruit feel good against a grainy throat that's just been laced in stomach acid, but it feels better than pecans and crust scratching the walls.

Why the upchucking, you say?

Aimee originally had gone in to the bathroom to let out her hair and brush it, since they were all getting ready for bed any how. And then she remembered the pizza, and how pizza looked on thighs. And how thighs looked in photographs. And -- well, it all escalated rather quickly.

So there she was, tossing the cookies she'd collected throughout the day when all of a sudden, a tiny little hand patted her right shoulder and began to pull back her hair for her.

"It's going to be okay."

At first, Aimee choked up, thinking it was Haven or Mabel. She began to cry, thinking herself an idiot for not shutting the door, or locking it. - But wait, she had[/] shut it. She [i]had locked it. Looking over her shoulder, there was no one, but she could have sworn there was a hand at her shoulder, patting her down, holding back her hair.

If weight wasn't a motivator enough to want to throw up, the chill down her spine that the college kids may not have been so wrong definitely gave her another go at it. For good measure.



Monday Morning

Aimee had elected to take her orange upstairs to her room. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, even with the chills, because fatigue gathered the body that had removed it's contents. She felt cold, her bones shivering beneath the covers, and she found she couldn't warm up even when she pulled a hoodie over her tank.

At precisely 3:09AM, she bolted awake when her own screams woke her. She stopped as soon as she realized it came from herself, her eyes wide. Did she wake anyone? Would they worry? What if they came in here?

She pushed her head back on to her pillow and feigned sleep just as soon as she'd sat up. If anyone was going to come, they wouldn't know it was her. Maybe they'd be as spooked out as she was over the whole thing. She couldn't even recall her dream.

It wouldn't be until she woke up around 6:57AM that she bothered to step out of the bed and begin her stretches for yoga. "And a jog." She told herself. Classes started at 10:15AM. She'd have time for it all, to get ready, grab a bite, and then walk towards downtown.