take a minute ;; [open]

[MARIA MORETTI]

A slender body took shape through the shadows, a torn dress hanging loosely on such a weak frame. Bundles of tangled hair lay in ponytails about her small head, the unkept, messy manes perhaps wider than her whole body. Without the old bustle of family around to fret over her hair, Maria had left it as it natural hung, coarse to the touch and a wild sight. Appearances were crucial for her in a place like this, not to impress, but to mirror her surroundings. She didn't want to be seen, wanted to be left alone and unbothered. That's how it always was, even when beside brother and sisters the girl was uncomfortable. She found comfort in animals, chasing the stray cats instead of making friends of a human variety. No, Maria had no problems with social interactions, she could chat and giggle to amuse a guest for days on end, she just didn't like to. The girl appreciated her isolation... when it existed.

Who decided that the state of solitude was equivalent to loneliness? Since when did the voices inside someone's head - not derived from insanity, but instead boredom and imagination - not suffice to appropriate company? Growing up she had a number of imaginary friends, none ridiculous with extra arms and tails, but real people. Just people that understood her needs, her desires and wants to be alone when she needed it. For her passions, art and singing, she needed no audience. Maria's talents didn't require constant praise and applause, but the close examination and approval of her own eye only.

Now no imaginary friends existed, that idea was silly to her a girl her age. Despite the creativity her mind existed upon, she had grown accustom to the logic and smarts gained on the streets. The Italian relied on herself only, just as she always knew she could. Watching her sisters wrap around her brother and parents for support made her sad... wondering why she was so different, pitying herself night after night as she heard her siblings joking and laughing in the next room. She was welcome to join them, both of her sisters and older brother were friendly, but why should she succumb to a company she would be forced to part with eventually? Getting close scared Maria, because everyone had to say good-bye eventually. And even this very thought angered her, this negative, logically thought that was so unlike the girl. She was a born optimist, always looking for a way out, using her artistic mind to make decisions.

Even now she was spending hours tracing the cobwebs plastered to the corner of each wall, thick lips slightly agap and her dark eyes fixated on the tiny sinews. Her body had slowly emerged from the darkness, standing stock-still in the center of the room. She was an eerie monument, mouth moving to record the numbers and eyes flicking about, a false icon of insanity.

Some were afraid of the basement, while others relished in it. Maria was neither of the evils, it took quite a bit to bring fear to her heart, and neither did she find enjoyment in such cryptic things. Those obsessed with death and everything dark bothered her, not to an extent of terror, but because she simply thought they were quite dull to find interest in such subjects.

count : tags : open!
noted : --
outfit : dark magenta dress.
credited : KBIRD of caution 2.0

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[DONALD MACLEAN]

Since when had gigantic ogre-like hands and feet, overly tight clothes, and ever changing moods symbolize the passage from a boy to a man? In Donald’s opinion, there was nothing about this to celebrate. He’d stay a boy for his entire life if this was what he had to go through. Already, he had gained several inches in height on his friends (or cronies rather) who had previously towered over him. He had always been a rather small boy compared to others of his age. Before he had changed his outlook on life, this had always been a source of ridicule for the other children. In some way, he should be happy that he was finally getting past that. However, after wolfing down the plate of food he was able to scrounge up from the cupboards and still not feeling satisfied, he wasn’t so sure. Hearing his stomach growl for maybe the seventh time this afternoon, Donald decided that sitting around by other kids who steadily trickled in to get a little food wasn’t exactly the best way to ignore his demanding hunger. He began to walk away, but after two steps, he changed his mind and raced into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of scones, and was then on his way.

One of the more negative aspects of living in an orphanage run by children was the constant noise. The sound of excited chatter, laughter, and squealing voices were almost inescapable. Even in the Aristocrat side, which was thought of as the more quiet and orderly section, there was always a clamor somewhere. For most, the buzz of the orphanage was comforting. A sign of the newfound joys that the children reveled in now that the rule of adults was over. But for Donald, this never-ending barrage of sounds was grating. Most of the e was good at ignoring it. If he had a good book by his side, he would delve into the world of the pages and simply block out others. Unfortunately, at this given time, he had no books that he hadn’t already read, or he only found books that he had no desire to read. He had casually played with the idea of writing a new short story to add to his collection, but lately, when he allowed his capillary feed pen to lazily drag over his sheets of paper, he became distracted almost immediately. Because of this, Donald didn’t sneak to his hopefully empty dorm room with his precious scones to snack and work on his writing. Instead, he decided to descend to where the adults were kept. The sometimes feared, sometimes worshipped basement.

Donald didn’t have a strong opinion on the atmosphere of the basement. He just enjoyed the silence of the area. For a time after the children’s rule, the basement was almost always in a frenzy. Kids came down to view the trapped adults as if it was some twisted sideshow act. Though he had never found interest in seeing the people that had been taken as prisoners, he had started to make a habit of going there after the crowds began to die down. It was amusing to him how quickly the fact that they were holding hostages became just a miniscule fact to most, and that some of the children who had been cheering with the rest of the mob at first now wouldn’t even mention the secrets of the basement. Soon only the most revengeful or sadistic kids would sneak down to toy with the adults, with the exception of those monthly rituals that the Shadow Man called for. This being said, Donald didn’t go down there to torture the people that they had taken captive. Though he wasn’t fond of what the adults had done, he didn’t find it enjoyable to purposely go to them and begin prodding the soulless creatures with whatever makeshift weapons the other orphans had created. Why would he do something that could conjure up images of what they had done to him in the past? No, when Donald went to the basement, he stayed well away from the torture chambers or the altar. Partially because he didn’t want to see the adults, but mostly because that was where it was most likely to see the occasional crazed child who would be passing the time by tearing away at their chosen victim.

He was on his way to the basement now, figuring that at the very least he would be able to enjoy his scones in relative peace. He nibbled at one cautiously as he walked, making sure that whoever had prepared them had done it well. Or at least well enough so that he wouldn’t have to see Dr. Gene for food poisoning. Some younger girls would try cooking on their own in their spare time. Even if their intentions were good, their cooking skills, frankly, were not. Luckily, whoever had prepared the scones this morning had done so decently. Though slightly burned on the bottom, his scone was definitely edible. That was about all you could hope for when you decided to take other people’s food. If you wanted something cooked exactly to your preferences, you had best do it yourself. Donald wasn’t a master chef or anything, but he took pride in his ability to be able to come up with a meal on his own here or there. Sure, a few other boys found it strange and made fun of him for it, but he never really cared what they thought anyway. At least he knew that he could do just as well without others having to serve him. Self-sufficiency was always a reassuring trait for Donald.

His first scone now gone thanks to his newly acquired bottomless stomach, he quietly descended the steps leading to the basement. At the bottom, he paused. There was someone here. He could see a girl’s silhouette from the center of the room as she appeared to inspect thing on the wall. Silently, Donald followed her gaze and spotted the object of her interest. A large cobweb adorned the wall, its thin, white lines, threading together in perplexing patterns, almost forming a labyrinth for the eyes. He was immediately drawn to it, but he didn’t feel comfortable staring it while this girl was also in the room. He averted his gaze to the girl, studying her face that was partly cast in wispy shadows. Ah, it was not a stranger after all. Donald relaxed slightly, less tense now that he knew he was sharing the room with Maria. He didn’t consider her to be a great friend, or rather, he would not allow himself to consider her a great friend, but she was someone that he didn’t find to be too difficult to get along with. Not like that bubbly moron, Theodore at least. Och, no. He shouldn’t be thinking of what happened yesterday night. He had been absolutely out of his element. That was the different between his two “friends” (Donald did not especially like using this phrase for people). While Theo whisked him out of his comfort zone, Maria allowed him to stay in it. “Good afternoon, Maria.” He greeted, politely. Most people would have continued to chatter on, perhaps asking the other how they were, but Donald didn’t bother. He hoped that someone like Maria wouldn’t expect that out of him.

(OOC: Sorry for this bad post. My muse is dying and my writing sucks )

[MARIA MORETTI]

Normally Maria would be quite displeased with this invasion of her personal space, and although she wouldn't make a notion to be mean or nasty, there wouldn't be too many welcoming words to the intruder. For a few moments she ignored the sounds down the steps, keeping her eyes narrowed toward the web. Perhaps if she said nothing they'd just go away, leave her be in her silence. She didn't think to turn around with the expectation of danger, the girl was not foolish enough to have no fears, but wouldn't let herself get freaked out by the smallest things.

She cleared her throat to make her presence known, just in case this stranger was looking for privacy him/herself, but froze completely when she heard her name in somebody else's voice.

Maria knew not too many would be able to recognize her face or name in the orphanage, she was quiet and shy, and didn't have an outward personality that usually stuck with people. Generally she was simply polite enough to get by a few conversations then ended up retreating to her alone time. Never did she get close enough to someone for them to see her inner spotlight, nobody knew the way she was able to shine. There was no reason for this besides genetics, for the only trauma in her life was her parents death and the separation of her siblings, but frankly she was just the same before all this happened. She'd been informed her father was just the same, preferring his alone time opposed to big groups. Made her realize why he was always gone at the office or in his workplace in the basement.

So slowly she turned, blinking a few times in the dark to comprehend the masculine figure before her. Sheepishly she abandoned her post at the spiderweb to approach him, hands clasped behind her back. "Donald..." the girl gave him a soft smile, the feature looking out of place on her lips. "Good afternoon," she responded, and once confirming her safety she turned from him, long dark hair falling in bundles down past her back. The girl squinted to try to find her place on the web again, but not the least bit frustrated with the way the boy had interupted her count. She had grown to be very patient, a trait certaintly not inherited from her father.

"It's difficult to count when the light keeps changing," she spoke absently, pursing her lips and moving closer to the web.

count : 418
tags : donald.<3
noted : THAT'S a bad post? ._. then mine must be horrific, hahah.
outfit : dark magenta dress.
credited : KBIRD of caution 2.0

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[ROSALINE MCKINNON]

{ FEEL IT COMIN' IN THE AIR AND THE SCREAMS FROM EVERYWHERE }
I'M ADDICTED TO THE THRILL
- - - - - - IT'S A DANGEROUS LOVE AFFAIR

Rosaline woke up, following her usual order of events. First, she would quickly check herself in the mirror, making sure that there wasn't a hair out of place. Her face seemed paler now then usual. She frowned into the mirror. Disgusting. She tried to shape her hair with her hands. Had it rained out last night? Her hair seemed more tangled and curly today. Rosaline placed her hand against the glass, swiping at her reflection as if this would force the image to disappear. Even if she let on to others that she was fully comfortable with her self, Rosaline truly hated the way she looked. Those stupid tomato-colored locks, the noticeable freckles, and that ugly milky skin. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! No wonder she had to practically parade herself to get any attention!

Rosaline stepped out of the bathroom, stepping in to her public alter ego. The one that hid her low self-esteem. Confident and cool Rosie would never think twice about her image. No, Rosie wouldn't think twice about anything. She passed an elder boy on her way down to the kitchen, giving him a wink as she passed. This was how Rosie operated. Please them with what was on the outside, and maybe they'd just forget the inside. Too bad that she didn't want them. Sure, she liked the attention, but the only person she really wanted attention from was one that payed her no mind. And as most of her friends had heard a thousand times, the person she wanted was...

Donald! As if the world was playing by her thoughts, Rosaline (or Rosie if you prefer) watched as the object of her affections suddenly took the stairs down to the basement. Now why would he want to go there? Despite having an interest that bordered on obsession for the slightly younger boy, Rosie knew quite little about him. Well, besides the fact that he viewed her as something of a nuisance and he preferred to read alone for hours on end. Sometimes while Rosie was cautiously "observing" the boy - not stalking at all-, she would be able to stay stationary since he often didn't move. Or talk. Or do much of anything except for read and write. He barely spoke to others, and when he did, he spoke to everyone rather coolly. In fact, Rosie could only recall one person that he acted a bit differently with. What was the boy's name? Travis? Timothy? She couldn't really remember. They were both aristocrats after all. There was a limited amount of time that she could interact with them. Still, the element of a forbidden relationship made the more all the more thrilling.

Smiling to herself, Rosie followed Donald down a few seconds after he had gone down the steps. She didn't want to make her self appear to obvious. At the bottom, she realized that they were not alone. Another girl, a fellow derelict that she never bothered to pay attention to, was studying a spider web. The same one that Donald had his pretty blue eyes on. Hmm, did these two know each other? Rosie certainly hoped not. "Donald?" she questioned, softly. She didn't want to be too distracting for him. He grew irritated with her when she was. "Hello. It's nice to see you again." she commented when she thought she had gotten his attention. They had not spoken very frequently in the past, since Rosaline hadn't wanted to overwhelm him. The few times she did, Rosie was worried that she appeared overbearing for his tastes. Which was why she was so calm right now. Her eyes then flicked to the dark-haired girl. "Afternoon, um, Meghan?" she guessed, not really caring if she got the name correct or not. It's not like this girl was important. Rosie was horrible with names anyway.

At last her eyes returned to their rightful place. Glued to Donald, of course. The boy had grown a lot in the last few weeks. While before, Rosie had actually been a bit taller than him, he now was taller than her. His feet and hands were larger, more manly, and his clothing seemed a size to small for his current frame. Not that this was necessarily a problem for Rosie. She then spotted the scones in his hand and grinned. "Ah, so you like scones Donald? I know a good recipe if you'd like me to make some for you some time." she chirped, delightedly. Finally, she may have found a break into his schedule. If she showed that she was useful in some way, there may be a chance that this one-sided relationship could turn into at least a friendship. Well... one could dream anyway.

words 786tagged maria & donald notes rosaline is kind of a jerk
template PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION

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