He is a writer, capable of creating the most beautiful poems and stories. His work evokes emotions in people that they didn't know existed - the purest forms of love, sorrow and longing. But they do not know about his inspiration, the muse behind art.
She is an heiress, the daughter of one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the country. He has never spoken to her, but every morning he watches from his house as she walks across the moors. She is his muse and all of his poems and stories are addressed to her.
And yet he knows nothing about her. The things he has invented are purely from his own mind; they have no basis in actual fact. He is not aware of the dark shadows from her past, or the secrets she keeps hidden from the surface.
What will happen when he finally meets her face-to-face? When she finds out the source of his inspiration?
I'm up for this if you'll allow me to join.
Sure :) I just want to check: this roleplay might have a couple of mature themes (not necessarily mature romance though, unless you're keen for that to happen). Are you alright with that?
Yes I'm okay with anything. I like mature romance so if that happens I'd be okay with it. :)
Okey dokey, we'll see how it goes. I'd like to be the girl if that's alright with you because I have some ideas for her background etc. She'll be 21, so if you could make your character around that age too that's be great.
Um alright. Mind posting your skellie for the girl first?
Name: Flora Deramore
Appearance: Flora is small and dainty, and stands at around 5'6" when in heels. Her fair skin is smooth and dotted with a few freckles here and there. She has aristocratic features - a nose which points up at the end, high cheekbones and dimpled cheeks. Her dark brown hair falls in curled waves down her back, with a few tendrils escaping to fall into her eyes. Her eyes are a bright blue, with a thick grey ring around the iris and long, thick eyelashes. She usually wears soft, feminine clothes and heels, unless she is out walking.
Personality: Flora finds it very difficult to trust people, especially ones she has only recently met. On the surface, she appears calm and gracious because she knows that is what is expected of her, but inwardly she can be blunt, cynical and sarcastic. She has severe claustrophobia and nightmares which stem from incidents in her past. That's why she likes going out onto the moors - so she can be alone and free, if only for a short while.
Background: To a spectator, Flora is a privileged young woman with the best kind of life. She is the only child of one of the richest and most powerful men in the country and has lived a life of material luxury. She has attended the best schools, mixed with the best people and lived in the best homes, but she is haunted by dark shadows from her past. TBD
Name: Declan Wyatt
Appearance: Declan is around 5'7 with no shoes on. His hair is straight black that can fall into his eyes and goes just below the ears and usually in a messy style because he does nothing with it. His eyes are a pale green with specks of sky blue in them. His skin isn't tan nor is it pale; it's just normal. Declan's normal attire consists of ripped jeans and different shirts that fit him loosely. He has a nice fit body but doesn't like showing it off. His face is chiseled nicely with an angular jaw, high cheek bones, and a straight nose.
Personality: Declan mostly likes to keep to himself. He has a few close friends but that's about it. It's not that he's a snob or mean; he just rather be alone to work on his writing.
Background: Declan is underprivileged. He has had no immediate family since the age of 17. He scrapes by with what he can and selling some of his work helps a lot. Sometimes he has to borrow money from close friends but rarely does so because of his pride.
((He's great :D Do you want me to start?))
((Thanks. :) Sorry it took a bit to post. I'm so indecisive when it comes to name. xP And yes if you could that would be splendid.))
Flora was sitting alone, reading a poem by a poet called Declan Wyatt, when her father strode into the room. She was so absorbed that she didn't look up and it wasn't until he spoke that she realised he was even there. "You know that man lives near us?" he asked. She glanced up, caught off guard. "I was thinking of inviting him to supper one day. It would look impressive to tell people that we knew him, especially as he becomes more famous."
She turned away, seemingly bored by the conversation. "I suppose you want me to ask him when I go past his house on my walk?" Her father nodded. "Fine. But I need to concentrate now." He nodded and left the room.
Declan sighed to himself as he sat at his desk where the magic usually happened. He stared out the window trying to find other inspiration than just the woman liked taking strolls by his house. She hadn't been by in almost three days and it was driving Declan insane. He didn't understand why she had not been by when in the following time the woman walked by every morning. Him not writing for three days was like having three dark nights in a row. Every time he tried to think of something else though his hand wouldn't create words. No... The woman was what he needed.
It was another hour or two before Flora decided to take her coat and go for a walk. It wasn't that the weather had been too bad for her to go out for the last few days - on the contrary, it had been too sunny; she much preferred the wind and the rain lashing down on her as she wandered the moors. She thought she might as well visit the poet first and get that out of the way, and so it was that she found herself knocking on his door a half hour later.
'No no no!' Declan cursed himself internally as he crunched another piece of paper into a ball and threw it on the floor. He'd spent all morning trying to write something that was worth anything and had come up with nothing. This was bad... What if the woman never came by again? Maybe she had changed her walking habits.
Just as Declan was about to give it another go he heard a knock at his door. With a sigh the young writer rose and went to answer the door. "Hello?" he spoke in his deep sultry voice as he opened the door. When he saw the woman that was to be his inspiration his pale green eyes visibly widened. "Uhm yes miss may I help you?" Declan tried to remain calm and collected.
Flora looked the man up and down. He was a lot, well, better looking than she had imagined. She shoved that thought roughly to the back of her mind, into a drawer marked "never think again". It wouldn't do to get herself involved with anyone at the moment.
"May I come in?" she asked cordially. "I don't mean to intrude but I have something I need to ask you."
Declan exhaled slowly unable to do anything for a few seconds than just stare at her. Declan had never planned to meet the beautiful creature that was his muse. After a minute he realized he was just staring at her like a loon and nodded. "Oh well of course."
Declan moved to the side so she could come into his small place. He thanked the goddess that he wasn't a messy person and his place, though little, was clean. Instead of leading her to the desk where he wrote about her he walked into the kitchen. "Would you care for something to drink? Something to eat?" he asked the girl. Although he didn't have much he'd be a polite host.
"No thank you, I won't be staying long. It's looks as if I distracted you while writing. I'm awfully sorry," Flora apologised, her forced manners on full display. She let her eyes wander to the desk, flickering over the sheets of paper covering it. What she'd give for the chance to read them, even if their entire sentiment, in her mind, was a lie. Still, she couldn't deny that the man had a talent with words.
"I merely came to request on my father's behalf that you join us for supper tonight. That is to say, my mother, my father and I." The words sounded false even to her own ears, but she plowed on. "We are all great fans of your work and it would be our privilege to spend the evening in your company."
He saw her eyes flicker to where he wrote but didn't comment on it. "You're fine miss... I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?" Declan's captivating eyes looked back at the woman with obvious admiration. She was even more beautiful when standing right in front of him. He couldn't believe that he was actually graced with the presense of such a gorgeous creature.
"Dinner?" Declan spluttered blinking a few times. "You and your family want me to come to dinner?" When Flora explained to him why he found it to be most ironic. 'If only they all knew she is the reason for my writing...' Declan thought before saying. "I suppose I can do that. What time do you three want me?"
Flora apologised for not having already introduced herself. "I'm Flora Deramore, and my parents are Lesley and Warren Deramore." She paused, a little confused. Usually people knew who she was because of her surname, and they certainly weren't interested in finding out who she was other than that.
"We can arrange for transport to pick you up at seven if you'd like," she offered. "We live a small distance away, but I'm sure you won't want to walk through the cold at night."
Declan made sure to keep his expression smooth even though he was freaking out internally. 'Deramore? Deramore! You have got to be kidding me...' "Oh yes I know of your family. Everyone does." Declan gave Flora a gentle smile. Everyone did know who the Deramores were and that made Declan even more confused to why Flora would be over in the moores so much.
"Oh that would be splendid. I could walk if it would be too much trouble though." Declan said in a polite manner. He was trying to focus on what Flora was saying and not pass out. The information he had just learned about the female was a lot to take in. And now he'd be going to her place for dinner with her family!