06-05-2018, 02:31 AM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt;"][color=black]When Mare received the invitation to Mordecai's party or whatever it is, her initial reaction was surprise. In all honesty, she simply assumed that no one knew who she was, until the rational part of her brain kicked in and she realized that the guy probably just sent an invite to every flat in the complex. Ah, yes. That makes sense. No longer paranoid that some random creeper suddenly invited her to his murder house, Mare decided that she might as well attend. Like Mordecai, the young woman is bored. She was born and raised in the great plains region of North America and even spent some time on a farm in what used to be Ireland. Which means that she is and outdoorsy farm girl with few social graces. Mare favors physical work, preferably outside. But the city does not offer many opportunities which fit her preferences.
Enough about that boring stuff.
She pulls on a loose-fitting pale pink sweater, tucking the very front behind the buckle of her belt. Lazy, somewhat cute, and very nineties. At least she's not wearing that same green plaid flannel that she wears almost every day. Except she's wearing the same pair of black converse which she also wears almost every day. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Mare does not exactly pride herself in keeping up with the latest fashion trends. She likes hoard her collection of nineties memorabilia that she inherited from her parents like a dragon hoards gold.
Although the doors are open, Mare still finds herself rapping her knuckles against the wood simply to announce her presence. The last thing she wants is to startle the host. Who knows what the guy could be doing before guests arrive. The woman shudders at the thought, mind immediately racing to the worst and most disgusting possibilities. "Uh, hello?" Her accent is very young, very American. Not even the years she spent with the Celts could ever dilute the purity of it. Okay, so this thing is supposed to be a meet and greet or whatever those are, but it looks like she's the only one present so far. Awkward.
Enough about that boring stuff.
She pulls on a loose-fitting pale pink sweater, tucking the very front behind the buckle of her belt. Lazy, somewhat cute, and very nineties. At least she's not wearing that same green plaid flannel that she wears almost every day. Except she's wearing the same pair of black converse which she also wears almost every day. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Mare does not exactly pride herself in keeping up with the latest fashion trends. She likes hoard her collection of nineties memorabilia that she inherited from her parents like a dragon hoards gold.
Although the doors are open, Mare still finds herself rapping her knuckles against the wood simply to announce her presence. The last thing she wants is to startle the host. Who knows what the guy could be doing before guests arrive. The woman shudders at the thought, mind immediately racing to the worst and most disgusting possibilities. "Uh, hello?" Her accent is very young, very American. Not even the years she spent with the Celts could ever dilute the purity of it. Okay, so this thing is supposed to be a meet and greet or whatever those are, but it looks like she's the only one present so far. Awkward.
JOLENE, I'M BEGGIN' OF YOU
"please don't take my man" — crow — she/her — characters