HUNTER, charity

[charity]

HELLO MY NAME IS CHARITY AND I AM SIXTEEN YEARS OLD. I'M A HUMAN AND I'M A DERELICT AND I WAS BORN ON NOVEMBER 12TH, 1869 IN ENGLAND. MY NATIONALITY IS BRITISH. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE RACHEL HURD-WOOD. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM IMAGINATIVE, OBLIVIOUS, CREATIVE, ILLOGICAL, ODD, DREAMY, EASILY AMUSED, AND OPTOMISTIC. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY CORA.

CODEWORD: rosered

ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:
Since I'm lazy, here's a post from my other character Donald:

Donald stared warily at the new arrival, though he had quickly regained his composure. One would have to be amazingly observant to notice that his face was still tinged with a touch of nervousness. Or maybe they would just have to care enough to check. Much more apparent than Donald’s partially buried worry was the openly stormy expression that had found its way onto his face. His eyes churned with unhidden agitation, his eyebrows had caved in at an almost comical slant, and his nose was childishly wrinkled. Only his mouth gave him away. Sure, he was frowning discontentedly as he should, but he had lost control of one important component. Without Donald consciously choosing to, he had begun to abuse his lip by lightly biting on it in a classic sign of uneasiness. Damn his unconscious. It always made him do things that he didn’t want to do at all. Even his fear seemed worse when it was in his mind. Granted, he was aware of the wee bit of anxiety he held toward these unpleasant turn of events. Still, annoyance had taken the lead role in his array of emotions now. It was the idea of someone seeing him that had gotten him so worked up. Now that this distantly familiar girl had appeared, it didn’t seem so threatening. It was like thinking about ghouls concealed in the darkest corners of a room. While what was actually there was hardly worth his attention, if he let the thought of it fester in his mind, it grew to a massive dread that could border on paranoia. In a twisted way, it may have been a good thing that this girl had appeared. If not, he would have dwelt on what would happen if someone had come for the entire afternoon. Surely, he would have come up with the worst possible scenario. This being said, he certainly wasn’t going to act thankful for this girl’s appearance. Not in the least.

At the mystery girl’s comment about the tea looking delicious, Donald peered down at the cups. All he saw was a dirt-colored liquid with soggy petals stuck to the bottom of the cup. Not caring whether the she had meant it as a sarcastic comment he flatly replied, “It looks like shite to me. “ He hadn’t said it just to be difficult. It really did look disgusting; it probably would taste worse. “Aye, it almost looks as bad as you.” He thought, eyeing the girl. Donald had enough self-control not to be that obviously rude out loud, but he couldn’t help the thought from slipping into his mind. Naturally, he supposed that the older girl may be more attractive. However, with her hair slightly knotted, her skirt ripped up in the front, and her feet –oh god, her disgusting feet-, she looked no better than an everyday street urchin. Of course, it wasn’t his place to criticize. He probably didn’t look much better. His clothing had grown too small for him since his last growth spurt and his hands and feet were now large and awkward. Oh, and he had that outrageous daisy chain in his hair as well. How could he forget about that? Donald supposed that he was once again letting his frustration at being caught take his reactions over. He wasn’t usually so critical of others… at least not of their appearances. Deciding to just let it go, he watched as this uninvited girl took the seat where the younger girl had sat previously. It was amazingly hard not to snap at the girl that her seat was taken. In fact, he had just opened his mouth to do so when the girl, who he now knew as Gretel, interrupted him by introducing herself.

He stared past Gretel for a moment, internally wondering whether he should tell her his name. He may have seen her in the orphanage a couple of times, but this didn’t mean anything. He still had virtually no clue what personality she had. So far she had appeared uncaring, aloof almost. Then again, people sometimes thought that of him, and this was sometimes just an act. For all Donald knew, Gretel could go off and tell half the orphanage by the end of the day. What rumors would spread about him then? Ah, but there was his little problem emerging. He was blowing this situation out of proportion, completely over-analyzing every move he was making. Who the hell cared if she told the entire universe? All he was doing was sitting by a fake tea party! It wasn’t like he was conspiring with a pack of sadistic adults! Those and similar thoughts still ringing through Donald’s head, he turned to Gretel and looked directly into her eyes for the first time. Not at the ground, not at her tattered clothes, nor even just barely past her shoulders (something he did often with people during conversations). He was determined not to let his inner views get a hold of him. This new resolve forced his tempestuous features to melt into a crooked though not yet friendly smile and he once again leaned back, more at ease with this situation than ever before. “Afternoon to ye too. My name is Donald. Our hostess should be back at any moment, so please do enjoy the herbal tea while you wait.” He said, almost laughing out loud at his words. Donald had never been to a formal gathering, nor had he ever been taught proper manners. Nevertheless, he had heard enough from some of the more well-mannered orphans to try to imitate their behaviors. Besides his Scottish accent, he thought he was doing an alright job.

As if the little girl had heard him mention the hostess, she pranced in with a tin filled with tiny biscuits. In mid-skip, she suddenly stopped and stared at Gretel. “Who is she?” asked the little girl, directing her question at him. Donald shrugged apologetically at the girl before answering, “She said her name was Gretel, Miss. Are you displeased with her?” He had to hide another smirk at himself when he continued to play along with this tea party roleplay. Perhaps he was even enjoying it? “No, no. Why would you enjoy acting out this thing?” his mind replied automatically. True. He was going along with it only to get it done faster. Donald didn’t like things like this. No way.

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