1 year ago · N: 0

Attention: The following is a list of the characters which will not be joining us in the revamp.

  • Dirk Adler
  • Eun Clark
  • Tegan Davies
  • Griffith Davies

Additionally, our FC list will be shortened and carefully gone through, so when the roleplay is revamped many of the FCs on it now will not be there.  All the characters who are remaining with the roleplay will have their biographies rewritten in accordance to the new format, and possibly their names and FCs changed.

— the admins



t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 0

After some deliberation, we have decided to close down this roleplay for a short while, to undergo a revamp.  We feel there’s so much more we could do with it, and where we are now is constricting.  A few weeks or even more would help us make this roleplay even better than it is now.

To the possible applicants: Please let us know now if there are any characters you are definitely interested in and would like to see survive the revamp.  The biographies will be rewritten, and some characters are going to be deleted.  As it is right now, all characters are open to deletion unless you request one of them to stay.

To the roleplay critics and helpers: We would love if you could still write reviews for this roleplay as it is now.  It would help us see what we need to change and improve upon, and will definitely help us as we revamp.

Feel free to ask any questions, this blog will stay up during the revamp.  Thank you to everyone who has contributed to this roleplay, reviewed it, and expressed interest in it.  Your kind words have only inspired us to go through with this revamp, and make this roleplay the best it can be.

— Your admins.



t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 0

We’ve decided that instead of posting new biographies, we will be editing the older ones to correct any grammar mistakes and improve their quality.  Remember, applications are open, so you can apply for any character which has caught your eye!  We will be more than willing to help out with any questions you have about the application or the character you are applying for.  Once we have a few applications we’ll post some more biographies.

— the admins



t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 1

Jude Baldwin · 31 · Upper Class · Malice · Alexander Skarsgard.

How such ill intentions abase my sought repose, remains a question unrelieved and festered by the crows.

—William Douglas Rodenberg.

Past. 

Jude straightened his tie and made sure each of his hairs were slicked back into place.  Even at an early age, his parents would joke, he was a perfectionist.  And a perfectionist he was, but it wasn’t for them to comment on.  He grimaced as he thought about his foul parents, both betrayers of their city-state.  He wouldn’t let their fall ruin his chances to become an asset.  And while they rotted in jail, he’d have the chance to reclaim his family’s once-held power, and rise through the ranks of nobles.  As much as money was adored in this blemish of a city-state, power was craved and lusted after.  Dominance was the human condition.  The weakest man has no chance of claiming a spot ontop of the pyramid, and even the wealthiest man wouldn’t stand a chance without will and ruthlessness.  Ruthlessness was the one thing he admired in his parents; no matter who got in the way of their crimes, they wouldn’t hesitate to leave them soulless.  It was something he had begun growing inside of himself, this ruthlessness, this need to do whatever is required to succeed.  He wouldn’t stop at any point in his life, he would never stop climbing the ranks and pushing people down.  It wasn’t just for the success, in his mind, it was also for the shear joy of it.  Imagine, all the pesky lower-lifes clawing at his feet, trying to become more than their fate had decided for them.  What would he do?  Would he be the diplomat, and turn them away politely?  Unlikely.  People like them needed to be taught lessons, if not multiple lessons.  Common courtesy was an ancient practice in politics.
The chances were, Jude Baldwin would rather kick them in the face and have them polish his shoes with their tears, than anything else.

Present.

The nobles were a mass of faces and gestures that Lord Baldwin had to do everything in his power to disregard.  They were pieces of flesh with opinions he didn’t care to hear.  Being a raider meant being bombarded by people, trying to pay him in advance for some of his finds.  There were also those who funded his raids, aching to send him to some faraway reach of the Nation in hopes he would work his magic and find something.  Dash their hopes, forget their petty wishes.  He didn’t raid for them, and he didn’t raid for his city-state.  He raided for himself.  Another piece of wisdom he had learned in his younger years was that no one would bend down to pick him up and help him.  As such, how could he be bothered to help others, or cater to others?  It wasn’t his practice, and his practice was survival.  Helping the weaker people, the weaker city-state, would only break him.  Whereas, sending information on weaknesses and security details to other city-states, this proved to help him.  It had taken years of planning and expanding his resources, but eventually Jude had found a true benefit.  If he were to be cohorts with the less wealthy, but obviously superior in strength and teamwork, he would only gain.  The only loss he could calculate would be that of his city-state, and his own life is anyone found out.  But the chances of that were nearly impossible, everything he executed would be clean-cut and precise.  And the benefit would truly come into work when the lesser city-states banded together and attacked York.  Only then would he find the pleasure and power he was looking for.  Power from the fall of the pathetic city he lived in.
And pleasure from the despair as he crushed them in his pursuit of other targets.

Occupation: Raider.
He raids and is often paid for it by his funders, but during his raiding he also provides information to the other city-states.

Personality.
Cruel, self-assured, and determined.  He doesn’t find it nessecary to supply to anyone but himself, and often refuses the affection or flattery of others.  If he were to involve himself in a relationship of any kind, it would be a sadistic one at best.

Affiliations.
He isn’t a very amicable person, but he makes it imperative that he communicate with each nobleperson in one way or another.  To influence them would only aid him.

Gif hunts.
{x} {x} {x}



t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 5

Weston Perry · 20 · Lower Class · Narcissism · Douglas Booth.

“This aching loneliness, that beauty is unable to mend.”

—Indiscreet Episode.

Past. 

Weston sat crouched in an old bar, craning his neck underneath a table.  He could see his mother’s legs from underneath the table, a mixture of fishnets and leather and porcelain skin.  He smiled and moved towards her - he had spent so long searching for her in this crowded bar, and finally he found her.  Weston sat beside her leg and watched her boots as she twirled her feet in circles.  He laughed and his mother jerked, looking underneath the table.  She narrowed her eyes and lowered her eyebrows, lowering her voice from its earlier, giggly pitch.  What are you doing here?  You were supposed to stay in the restroom.  He flinched at her words, and muttered under his breath and apology.  She shook her head and told him an apology wasn’t going to cut it - she kicked him in his side and watched him curl up.  Disgusting, his mother said, and went back above the table to speak to her date.  Weston was supposed to know better than that at this point in his life - never interrupt his mother during her work.  She needed to date men to keep in business, and he knew that.  It wasn’t her fault, it was his.  He bent down, gasping and staring at the ground.  If only he were perfect like the men his mother kept the company of.  With a dashing smile and slicked back hair.  She would love him too, if he were like them.
If he were perfect.

Present. 

The Perry son walked up the staircase, and paused to look into the cleaned handrails.  His face was a warped reflection, one eyes too large and the other too small, with his lips lopsided and drooping.  He stood there, and watched himself move, smiling and frowning to see the differences in the polished surface.  Once he could only imagine, he had looked as obscene as he did in the handrail.  Weston continued walking up the staircase into the main parlor of business of the Sweet Box.  Once, his mother had beat him when he drifted in the way of her work.  Her fellow prostitutes would pity him, help clean him up and keep him away from her.  He had once felt pain and disgrace, but not anymore.  Now he no longer wished for the affections of his abusive mother, and he no longer cowered in the protection of her fellow workers.  Weston smiled cockily as he ascended - that him had been gone for a very long time.  He was talented and handsome now.  He stopped in the bathroom and looked into the mirror.  He was charismatic and gentlemanly.  He was everything he had wished he were.  It was a lonely life for Weston Perry, but he no right to complain.  His wish was granted.He was perfect.

Occupation: Security detail.
He works as the sole security in the Sweet Box, and although he’s not very intimidating he is known for his left hook.

Personality.
Chivalrous, attentive, and sensitive.  He is ever the gentleman, but he has a poor tolerance for insults and doesn’t take any negativity well, especially if it has to do with him personally.

Affiliations.
Iola Mercer - Although he does not know Iola on a personal level, she employed him and he considers her to be a better mother than his own.  Along with her workers, he calls her Momma Mercer.
Kristopher Herman - He has on multiple occasions asked Kristopher to paint him or sculpt him, but the artist refuses on the basis that he is male and not female.  For this Weston holds him in disregard and contempt.
Griffith Davies - He and Griffith have fought more than once, though both of their identities are privy to themselves.  Weston goes out to the arena for the sake of keeping in shape and making sure he is always able to attend to his job.

Gif hunts.
{x} {x} {x



t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 0

Veronika Krall · 18 · Upper Class · Apathy · Ivana Baquero.

“The bare sharp details stabbing into me, showing me how painful life can be.”

—Kaysen Fraker.

Past.

Veronika was told that when she was born, she didn’t cry.  She had never really been an expressive child, which worried her parents.  The house would often be silent, and they would wonder if she had hurt herself or fallen asleep on the floor.  There really was no telling with the young Krall child, especially since she would often do both and keep quiet about it.  She wasn’t vocal about anything, at least not until later in life.  Her father had left for business one week, and during that time she and her mother seemed on edge.  She would sit in her room and cry, mutter to herself during dinner.  She broke three plates, one vase, and ripped up her bedsheets during a nightmare.  Veronika never knew why her mother took steel to her throat at the end of that week.  When her father came back to their house and saw her mother bleeding out in the garden, he screamed and held Veronika close to himself.  As if he were afraid that she too would leave him suddenly, out of the blue just decide to take her life as well.  Of course, he was fooling himself.  Not only was she too young to even begin thinking like that, but he knew as well as her that she could never care enough.  She could never care enough for herself to look for escape, and never care enough about anyone else to wish for death.

Present.

She could remember her mother telling her once that at Veronika’s birth, she thought she had been dead.  She had never answered her then, but now the reply was simple.  I am dead, she thought, and looked at her hands.  If she blinked enough times, and took enough drugs, she could see through her fingers and to the floor.  She had broken all her mirrors, which upset her step-mother, but why would she care about the swine’s opinion?  She was the reason Veronika and her father left their country just to come to one in ruin.  When she was on drugs, she felt something, something like a cocktail of anger and sadness.  She would scream and cry, and then run her knuckles against the walls to feel something else.  Pain.  She never felt alive unless some chemical was running through her veins.  She felt grief for her mother’s death, but when clean she didn’t feel that again.  She didn’t feel the anger at her step-mother, or at her father.  It was as if when she was high, life finally came crashing down and suffocated her.  And to her, that was living.
Veronika Krall would prefer the pain over the apathy. 

Occupation: Unemployed.
Though she’s expressed interest in getting a job, her father doesn’t want other people put at risk because of her tendency to use drugs and the violent behavior which results. 

Personality.
Apathetic, distant, and blunt.  When she is on drugs, however, her demeanor changes and she becomes extroverted, and chaotic.

Affiliations.
Helena Reardon - She knows Helena as they both frequent the same place to buy drugs.  They’ve often tussled while they were high, and eventually became close friends through their addictions.

Gif hunts.
{x


t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 0

Kristopher Herman · 26 · Lower Class · Enthrallment · Ben Barnes.

“Pygmalion doth his bride behold, rapt on her pure and sculptured charms.”

—Edward Rowland Still.

Past.

Kristopher had always wondered how a son could be like a father.  His father was tall, and he had a scruffy beard and crinkly eyes.  He would sit and draw his father’s eyes day in and out, trying to capture the creases and the wrinkles.  After he perfected the eyes, he would begin messing around with his father’s paints.  There would be a range of colors to choose from, and if he didn’t quite have a color he liked he would mix them and run with the results.  His eye portraits came in pastels, sepias, and in the occassional monochrome.  He began working on every solid surface possible, leaving crinkly eyes to great his father back home from vending on the streets.  After painting eyes over eyes over yet another layer of eyes, Kristopher was allowed to see his father’s masterpiece.  It was the artwork which he claimed would make him eternal, make him memorable.  It would put his name in every household.  Still, Kristopher didn’t understand - what was so miraculous about a sketch of a woman?  His father would explain - it wasn’t the sketch, but what would become of the woman in the sketch.  She would become a sculpture, he said, once he had enough money to buy the materials.  And for a mere second, Kristopher understood how a son could be like a father.
He thought that perhaps, a son was given to a father not for succession of his bloodline, but for that of his obsession.

Present.

Sitting in the Sweet Box for all manners of the day wasn’t Kristopher Herman’s favorite experience.  There were always women floundering around him, trying to get him to spend some money so they could undress for him.  As interesting as that may have been to any other young man his age, Kristopher wasn’t interested in the sex.  He was interested in the women - their curvature, the way their lips bowed.  How their feet arched and their shoulders dipped.  He only visited the brothel to observe, and everything he could notice he took great care to remember.  He didn’t need a real woman, when waiting in his apartment he had a sketch of one.  She wasn’t perfect yet - when he first saw her, she was, but soon his father’s dream was forgotten and somehow water had touched the delicate lines of the woman.  It was his duty as his late father’s son to complete her, and to make her as perfect as she once was.  Observing these women, who men in York thought of as the most beautiful in the nation, would help him complete her.  He thought, no, he knew that if she existed, his life would be more than old paintings of eyes.
He would be more than his father, if only he could complete his dream.  Then, Kristopher would finally have the chance to pursue his own.

Occupation: Artist.
Just as his father did, Kristopher vends his artwork on the streets.  He spends most of his time at the Sweet Box.

Personality.
Steadfast, hopeful, and hard-working.  He never does something half-way and prefers his work over anything else.  However, he is slightly insecure when it comes to his own identity and who he is as an artist.

Affiliations.
Iola Mercer - He preferred Iola over many of the prostitutes as a model for his sculpture.  He respects her now for the way she climbed to the level she is in now, but finds bits of himself in her whenever he sees her wearing a sad expression.
Griffith Davies - He knows Griffith as the same illness his father passed away with, Griffith contracted.  He feels sympathy for him in this sense.  They have never spoken.

Gif hunts.
{x} {x} {x}



t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 0

Iola Mercer · 28 · Lower Class · Waste · Keira Christina Knightley.

“Won’t it all be a waste one day, no matter how I play the game?”

—Shalom Freedman.

Past.

His breath smelled like garlic. That was how she remembered her first customer, a man with breath so rich in garlic she could barely concentrate and do her own job. Iola had never been good with names, but she remembered each customer she serviced. There was the man with a twitching eye, and the man who had a gap between his two bottom teeth. At first she always seemed to get the less favorable men, but as she moved up through the brothel this changed. She would then memorize men by not their appearance, but the cologne they wore. She soon began grouping them by scents; musky, fruity, floral. She preferred the ones who didn’t wear any cologne at all. They were vulnerable and naked, and not trying to hide behind something. Kristopher was one of those men, who refused to hide. He seemed out of place in a brothel; his eyes wandered to the artwork and not to the women, and he smelled of paint, not cologne. He was a hit at the Sweet Box, as he had never actually been a patron. It interested all the ladies that man could think with his mind and not his genitals.
And Iola was no exception.

Present.

Inheriting the Sweet Box was redemption to every prostitute. It meant being able to leave the business while still having a steady income, a place to work, and something to do. Most retired prostitutes were forced onto the streets, to sell gifts that were once given to them by customers. But the best part, invariably, was being able to retire early. Iola had been given the brothel by the old woman who once owned it, and status as well as respect followed immediately. She was called Momma Mercer by the prostitutes, Momma being a common honorific in the business. The money she raked in allowed her to completely reform the Sweet Box into something better – into a luxury, instead of a past-time. Her work inhibited that of freelancers, and soon girls would flock to her in hopes of some work. There would be no garlic men for the women in the new high-caliber Sweet Box. Still, Iola had to wonder. Between all the success and miracles she had in the business, what could she gain outside of it? What if she could do something more ‘civilized’? Something which wasn’t so dirty, despite the fee and quality? She would think of Kristopher, and his smell of paint.
In comparison, no matter how well she did, her life always seemed like such a waste.

Occupation: Entrepreneur.
She was once a prostitute, but she now spends her time taking care of the Sweet Tooth and painting - a trait she traces back to the man named Kristopher.

Personality.
Dominant, thoughtful, and expressive.  She has quite the commanding presence, and everything she does is deliberate and thought over beforehand.  She has strong bonds with her girls, and considers them family.

Affiliations.
Kristopher Herman - She envies Kristopher, as she believes him to have a carefree life.  She still sees him often at the Sweet Box, but now his attention seems to be even more focused on the women, which only piques her curiousity.
Agnes Heidrich - Despite the girl’s attempts to hide her prostitution, Iola sees through her.  She is constantly eyeing her, and deciding when to make the move to invite her to join the Sweet Box.

Gif hunts.
{x} {x} {x



t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 0

Eun Clark · 22 · Upper Class · Theft · Kim Soo Hyun.

“Even a petty thief can steal much more than you can give.”

—Thomas Doubting.

Past.

Eun curled into a ball to protect his belonging, a small doll his parents had given him before sending him and his cousin to the Nation. The other children hadn’t taken so well to the strange-looking foreigner, and had a habit of taking everything he owned. He would walk outside and they would take the buttons off of his shirt, peel off his shoes and steal his socks. The boys surrounding him kicked at his stomach, until he didn’t have the strength to stay folded up and became vulnerable. They laughed and tossed around the doll, pulling apart its legs and arms. Eun Clark shivered and lunged forward, only to grab air and receive a punch to his jaw. The laughter and violation of his belonging, the only remembrance he had left of his real family, not the host family who burdened him with the last name Clark and the society he lived in – it was humiliating. It broke him. Eun slid to the pavement and let the pain of it all wash over him, until he was drowning in it. Then, at that moment when he hid his head in his arms, he made a promise to himself.
He would never be in this situation again, and for the rest of his life he would only gain.

Present.

With a borrowed suit and a dashing smile, Eun made his way into the jewelry shop. His host mother, Lady Clark, was expecting him to bring back her jewels. She had broken the chain to her favorite necklace and sent them to this jewelry shop for repair. He went through the assortment of rings, brooches, and lockets, feigning interest. The man who repaired jewelry was still in the back of the store, which meant the clerk at front did not know him as the young man of the Clark household. He moved with professional ease, and while turning to speak to the clerk at front he snatched up some pearls. Slipping them into his pocket, he asked for the repairs he was waiting on. She nodded and went into the back, which only prompted him to go back to his browsing. After a few minutes, the clerk reappeared with the repairs, and Eun Clark was gone from the sight of the small jewelry shop. He had left with the necklace, a string of pearls, and three rings. Quality over quantity, he thought to himself, and set off to the pawn shop on the other side of York. He had promised himself he would gain.
And gain Eun Clark did.

Occupation: Unemployed.
He sells his items to pawn shops, but otherwise makes no profit.

Personality.
Quirky, soft-spoken, and curious.  He has strange mannerisms, such as playing with whatever he can get his hands on, and isn’t very good with people.

Affiliations.
Tegan Davies - He talks most with Tegan, and she is one of few he has shared with his kleptomania.  He visits the Green Cafe very often because of her.
Matthias Wolters - He met Matthias once while selling off stolen items to the pawn shop.  Before Matthias could see him, he took his goods and left.  Ever since then he is careful when he visits the pawn shop to sell anything.

Gif hunts.
{x}


t h e m e
1 year ago · N: 1

Alphonse Carter · 20 · Upper Class · Ignorance · Caleb Landry Jones.

“Holding the mind captive, blinding its subject from the truth.”

—Emmanuel Oduro.

Past.

Alphonse blinked.  It troubled the maids when did so; they thought it was him pretending he could see, when in reality even blind he needed to blink.  He smiled to himself, and still keeping his head in the same place, he asked the youngest maid where his father was.  She curtsied - he could hear her skirt rustling as she did - and told him his father was still not yet home.  The Carter heir played with his fingers, and listened to his small world move.  In the distance, there was the sound of plates clattering in the sink.  The older maids were whispering about the pay and the hours, where the younger maids about his inability.  He could hear the pity in their words, and decided to ask one of them to take him upstairs.  Hopefully it would keep their mind off of him.  One of the younger maids took his hand gently, as if he were made of china and not of flesh and bone, and brought him up each step carefully.  He liked to pretend he couldn’t walk around the house on his own; of course he could, after all he had been living there for so long.  It was only a matter of memorizing the steps and the count.  As they walked up the steps, he counted in his head.  The maid stopped at the twelfth step and asked him if he’d like some tea.  He shook his head and continued the count, but behind her insistence on getting some tea and the numbers running through his head, he could hear it.
He could hear the shuffling of blankets, and the muffled moans. 

Present.

Alphonse Carter had learned that ignoring terrible truths and locking them in the back of one’s head, was the easiest way to survive.  No matter how many times his father had brought up that one day, when Alphonse had discovered he and his mistress, the boy would shake his head and refuse to acknowledge it.  To think that his father would rather spend time bedding a prostitute than enjoying time with his son was impossible, and so he fashioned up a different story.  That woman was asking for a loan - his father was an established man, after all.  It was a plausible story.  Every time his father brought home another woman, Alphonse would assume it was for a loan.  Why, he thought, should he have to face the truth?  All he wanted was hope.  Hope that his father truly was busy, and he wasn’t just avoiding his son.  Hope that one day, the women and the loans would stop, and they could spend time with each other.  Of course, Alphonse wasn’t daft.  He knew that there were no loans.
But knowing and admitting are two completely different things.

Occupation: Unemployed.
He spends his time at the Hungry Giant instead of actually looking for a job, although he does sometimes do accounting for his father.

Personality.
Clever, kind-hearted, and rather innocent.  He lived a sheltered life, and as such doesn’t know many things about life which wasn’t tutored to him.

Affiliations.
Dirk Adler - He considers Dirk his source on information in the world, his tutor on the streets.  Dirk often tells him about his own life and his own sexual conquests, which interests Alphonse but is something he doesn’t quite understand yet.
Lise Claesson - He favors Lise mainly because she too is innocent in some respects.  He watches her gamble, and orders her drinks on his tab.

Gif hunts.
{x} {x} {x


t h e m e