Post by Margarette on Jun 27, 2009 23:59:18 GMT -5
Name: Margarette Reinard (Simply known as Margarette to her Mistress as it’s been many years since she needed use of her last name.)
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Job Wanted: N/A
(If previous is N/A) Other Position wanted: Wife (See RP)
Description(Prefered a detailed description): The flash of scarlet curls set against a dusty charcoal backdrop leads one of petite form to present herself without so much as the parting of the lips. She moved with the careful grace her garb demanded; high-collared bodice of pale lilac swept to delicate waistline, obviously corseted by unseen restrictions followed by a bustled skirt of chocolate, ankle-length linen trimmed in aged ivory lace. Overall appearance gave her an air of muted feminine perfection yet almond-shaped gaze met any in silent challenge..
Example of RP(Preferably a RP log from previous RPs, otherwise make it up.):
The slip of paper, while insignificant to most, sat like a flaming herald of the young maid’s brazen actions, seeming to burn a hole in her pocket as she went about her duties for the day. Her paws trembled slightly as she cleared her Mistress’ lunch and made her way promptly to the kitchen at the back of the modest home which held her solitary employ as a maid of all work.
Thankful for the time to herself as her Mistress rested in her rooms upstairs, Margarette took a cautionary glance over her shoulder for a moment before hastily pulling the precious paper from its hiding place. It was the color of her favorite lavender bodice and retained an almost paisley undercurrent. With a sigh of relief, she snatched a nearby pen and ink pot from the register by the door used for keeping track of the home’s pantry stores and collapsed at the worn kitchen chair. The words had been circulating in her head for days since the scullery maid next door had whispered that her room-mate had left on a train that morning.. bound for the unknown reaches west to wed a man she’d never met. A mail order bride..
The tip of the pen dipped into the ink pot. This was her last chance. It was no secret that her Mistress was in poor health and it wasn’t like the gentlemen were beating down the kitchen door to ask for her paw. The ink swept in careful lines. She was running out of options and as horribly frightening as it was to throw herself into this void.. The words, while few, held an honest truth and the yearning of a desperate heart. Folding it carefully, the last sentence caught her eye and a smile parted her lips. This advertisement would be read in newspapers spread throughout the West.. Surely someone would take an interest in it.
“..as she has nothing to offer but herself.”
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Job Wanted: N/A
(If previous is N/A) Other Position wanted: Wife (See RP)
Description(Prefered a detailed description): The flash of scarlet curls set against a dusty charcoal backdrop leads one of petite form to present herself without so much as the parting of the lips. She moved with the careful grace her garb demanded; high-collared bodice of pale lilac swept to delicate waistline, obviously corseted by unseen restrictions followed by a bustled skirt of chocolate, ankle-length linen trimmed in aged ivory lace. Overall appearance gave her an air of muted feminine perfection yet almond-shaped gaze met any in silent challenge..
Example of RP(Preferably a RP log from previous RPs, otherwise make it up.):
The slip of paper, while insignificant to most, sat like a flaming herald of the young maid’s brazen actions, seeming to burn a hole in her pocket as she went about her duties for the day. Her paws trembled slightly as she cleared her Mistress’ lunch and made her way promptly to the kitchen at the back of the modest home which held her solitary employ as a maid of all work.
Thankful for the time to herself as her Mistress rested in her rooms upstairs, Margarette took a cautionary glance over her shoulder for a moment before hastily pulling the precious paper from its hiding place. It was the color of her favorite lavender bodice and retained an almost paisley undercurrent. With a sigh of relief, she snatched a nearby pen and ink pot from the register by the door used for keeping track of the home’s pantry stores and collapsed at the worn kitchen chair. The words had been circulating in her head for days since the scullery maid next door had whispered that her room-mate had left on a train that morning.. bound for the unknown reaches west to wed a man she’d never met. A mail order bride..
The tip of the pen dipped into the ink pot. This was her last chance. It was no secret that her Mistress was in poor health and it wasn’t like the gentlemen were beating down the kitchen door to ask for her paw. The ink swept in careful lines. She was running out of options and as horribly frightening as it was to throw herself into this void.. The words, while few, held an honest truth and the yearning of a desperate heart. Folding it carefully, the last sentence caught her eye and a smile parted her lips. This advertisement would be read in newspapers spread throughout the West.. Surely someone would take an interest in it.
“..as she has nothing to offer but herself.”