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Post by shades on Jan 29, 2014 4:46:09 GMT
-fishing for a Renny to roleplay with- |
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Post by Renny on Feb 8, 2014 2:09:16 GMT
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Post by shades on Feb 8, 2014 2:19:42 GMT
{ Hah! I caught you! }
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Post by Renny on Feb 8, 2014 2:37:56 GMT
Damnit shades. I was happy fishie and now I've been caught xD
so what roleplay shall we do?
I have like a couple of guy character ideas I could use.
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Post by shades on Feb 8, 2014 2:46:22 GMT
{ dum, hm, well I dunno. Ophelia is a bitch-y sarcastic character, and Felicity is naïve as fuck but I imagine her being pretty too. }
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Post by Renny on Feb 8, 2014 2:51:59 GMT
Hmm. I think Ophelia, because I love those kinds of characters.
For my character I could have either Lance; a rich, extremely intelligent guy who tends to figure everyone out easily due to his extreme liking and understanding of psychology, or Brayden; a kid from the wrong side of the tracks that acts like he doesn't care, when he is really smart, but is sarcastic, analytical, and snarky.
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Post by shades on Feb 8, 2014 2:59:55 GMT
{ Lance, because that means he has to figure Ophelia out. xD }
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Post by Renny on Feb 8, 2014 3:09:44 GMT
Oh yes xD
I was hoping you'd say that, since Lance is like amazing<333
shall you start?
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Post by shades on Feb 8, 2014 3:11:02 GMT
{ I will! <3 }
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Post by shades on Feb 8, 2014 3:32:23 GMT
Ophelia Stanley ; ; She was always noticed by name, every announcement, every call upon, the name ‘Ophelia’ wasn’t exactly a Mary or Taylor; it was one of those odd names that you either like or hate, and said girl was very much indifferent. She was like that about everything, however, blue eyes flickering over the crowd as her lips in a taught, straight line. Most people who met Ophelia Stanley could say she was an absolute bitch.
She didn’t smoke, didn’t get drunk, never had sex with a man, wasn’t popular. No, she was merely a girl with an attitude that hid her inner insecurities. Ophelia was allergic to stupid and her defense was sarcasm, trying with all her might to keep people she distrusted (the jocks and cheerleaders) and loathed away from her.
Sure, Ophelia had a small table of people she sat with; but Harry McGowen admiring her and wheezing near her ear wasn’t exactly an attractive friendship. When she got home, she was alone, Never did the girl participate in much activities but dancing at a studio privately, and riding horses. Those made her happy, school and people? She had a natural aversion to it.
Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t put up a fight to be homeschooled.
It wasn’t this school that built up her attitude and solid wall, but another school before it. When Ophelia’s tiny frame was smaller, her straight brown hair frizzy, static-y, oily, and knarled, her blue eyes the only thing bright about her and overly happy. But she was teased, brought down constantly; though she tried to change for the better and make people like her, Ophelia was remembered as a weirdo.
She hated it, and began to hate people in general in those times; leaving a bitter girl to glare at anyone who approached her. Particularly those false boys and girls who act nice but under their eyes was a devious plot. Homework, humiliation, na-ah Ophelia didn’t fall for it anymore. To anyone it was a “fuck off” and left at that.
Some people like Harry McGowen she kept around to cheat off his notes and because even she knew he would never have the social status enough to bring her down. And she could call him names, with a dead serious tone, and he would still stick around.
She knew he pitied her, and it annoyed Ophelia more to no ends. But hey, math was difficult.
Sipping from her water bottle, once again hearing Harry wheeze and saying, “use your inhaler McGowen, or else I’ll shove it down your throat.” Ophelia watched the crowd around her like always. |
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Post by Renny on Feb 9, 2014 3:45:47 GMT
Lance Sweeting
A new face seemed to merge itself onto the usual crowd of familiar faces. A handsome one at that. Hazel-green eyes, wide and seemingly innocent, slightly plump cheeks; yet it wasn't too noticeable [except by an adoptive grandmother who liked pinching them] and a full head of curly dark hair. His name was Lance, Lance Sweeting. If asked upon, that's what he'd tell you with a friendly smile, revealing the dimples on each corner of his plush pink mouth. But inside that pretty little head of his was a brain with the IQ of 138, two points from being deemed genius.
For anyone wondering, [which is probably no one], he used this IQ to be observant. He noticed everything. Like a modern day Sherlock Holmes, except he didn't solve murders. He saw into the mind of people based on body language, actions, the way they spoke. He could pick out secrets as if they were swords in a haystack instead of needles. People would say he would make an excellent shrink, or a profiler. In truth, Lance figured he could probably do anything, but he'd always enjoyed 'people-watching', although it wasn't creepy. Trust me.
He read people like children's books. He could be very perceptive, but no one really knew anything about him. With a deep understanding of psychology, it is easy to twist things on another person. But he was still a teen, so he sometimes slipped up, let people get close to him. Some people that just wanted to exploit him, because his adoptive parents were loaded. Hence a preppy boarding school in Canada. And sometimes he really missed it there.
Lance was a shiny new toy for the popular crowd, but with this came an experiment. He'd figured out everything about them, pretty much. Except things buried so deep he was pretty sure they didn't even know. Some of them were so obvious. The drama of high school, ugh. Soon he turned a blind eye to it, not wanting to get wrapped up in it, even though he was pretty sure Olivia Markham liked him, but she wasn't his type. Tall, curvy, and blonde. Odd as it was, he liked shorter brunettes. If his past relationships indicated anything.
And his fascination with the school 'bitch'. She was a short, slight brunette with luminous eyes. Ophelia Stanley. Such a name, one that surprisingly rolled right off the tongue smoothly. Plus she was in three of his classes. His math; with the slightly gross Henry or Harry McGowen, who stuck by her side much to her disgust. They also had AP Psychology, which was his favorite class. And lunch, but that didn't really count. He normally observed her in Psychology, when people-watching was the norm and she sat diagonal from him so it was easy.
He didn't know why he liked her. She was just, he didn't know. And that's what intruiged him. He wanted to know more about her. Everyone else was so easy and open, he read them like a book. But if Ophelia was a book, she was written in a language he didn't know. Besides the obvious hatred and bitterness to everyone, signaling either an abusive family, or severe bullying, but other than that, nothing. He was blank. It was like question marks just came up around her.
His attention was pulled from her during that same Psych class. It was a project. It was going to be on their people-reading skills and how hard it was to get to know someone you hadn't talked to. He hoped he wasn't stuck with the McGowen kid, he was just so easy and boring to deduce. He wanted a challenge. That's why his stomach dropped when the list was passed back with the instructions for the project. His name was connected to a name he wasn't expecting.
Ophelia Stanley.
He looked up to her, and then the teacher who winked knowingly at him. He looked away, feeling his cheeks burn a bit pink. He had tried to be covert. He looked up to the girl of interest. He was somewhat happy, at least he'd gotten what he'd wanted. |
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Post by shades on Feb 10, 2014 0:18:52 GMT
Ophelia Stanley ; ; Psychology was never her favorite class; observing people she didn’t care about, feeling the eyes on her as the teacher called out, “someone here has an item on their person that wasn’t there before” to make everyone look around and observe others to find Lexi Nicole was wearing a new necklace. Like Ophelia cared about those kinds of things; she had her earrings, the same silver false diamonds every day, and that was it.
Lance Sweeting.
The project entailed getting to know someone new, which was hard considering some students already knew each other. She looked over at the boy in question, eyes locking. Ophelia could do these sort of things all day, blinking once or twice to see who glances away first. The tint on his cheeks, his own prominent and rather attractive features (what? Unlike rumors may suggest, she was in fact straight and did in fact know an attractive guy when she saw one).
When the teacher started talking about the project some more, she tore her gaze away to look at him; knowing full she didn’t care and didn’t usually pay attention in any classes. Harry McGowen was complaining about having to talk to the school jock who usually pushed anyone around, “he will totally punch my face in!” The boy wheezed in over-exaggerated panic.
“He’ll be doing me a favor,” Ophelia snapped back. |
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Post by Renny on Feb 11, 2014 1:48:58 GMT
Lance Sweeting
Ophelia broke their gazes first, her big blue eyes peering into his own. Just before she looked away, he raised one eyebrow slightly. Almost innocent, but definitely a challenging one. He glanced around, and his mind tuned out any questions. The teacher spouted a few example questions that the pairs could use to break the ice. "Where are you from?", "What's your full name," Skin deep stuff. Nothing that could get him into the puzzle that was Ophelia Stanley.
His ears perked up a bit, looking up to see Olivia Markham raise her hand, waving it slightly and shifting, throwing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Mrs. Williams, why couldn't we have picked out partners?" She said, then continued. "I mean, I'm stuck with nerdy Nancy, and newbie Sweetings is stuck with that bitch Ophelia," Olivia sneered at Ophelia, her lip curling up in quite an unattractive way.
Exhibit 1,204 why Lance Sweeting really did not like Olivia Markham. He snorted a bit, scoffing at her. "At least I didn't get a self-centered blonde bimbo." He thought to himself as the teacher scolded Olivia, explaining that this was to get to know people a bit better. The teacher dismissed everyone to get into their pairs to begin.
Lance stood up, grabbing his books and walking down the aisle and around and dropped into the open seat in front of Ophelia's desk, placing his things in front of him and turning around. "Lance Sweeting," He introduced himself, smiling a bit, revealing those adorable dimples. He was ridiculously cute, not in a douche-hot way, like most idiots here. He had a spark to his eyes, an intelligence to them. He waited for her response, wondering how she would respond. That would be key in unlocking the levels of this mysterious brunette.
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Post by shades on Feb 11, 2014 2:58:54 GMT
Ophelia Stanley ; ; Her icy glared was shot at Olivia for that brief moment, mentally thinking that the girl herself couldn’t get more bitch-y, and at least Ophelia wasn’t a skank either. But she held her tongue, merely watching as Harry McGowen nervously shuffled to where his partner sat, leaving Ophelia alone with Sweeting.
She looked him over after his introduction, shoulders slumping forward so her elbow rested on the desk, palming her cheek and a finger aimlessly twirling a short hair near her face. “I know. And you know who I am, Markham made sure of that.” Ophelia stated blankly, trying not to be fazed by his kind looks.
She had a reputation and like Markham said, she was a bitch. No softness, he would turn on her eventually. They all do. |
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Post by Renny on Feb 14, 2014 23:03:45 GMT
Lance Sweeting
Lance raised a brow, watching her body language. She was casual, a finger twirling a bit of hair around her finger. She seemed unfazed, untrusting. He'd need to change that. He glanced over the class where either two people were breaking the ice, or laying down exactly what was going to happen. Like with Nancy and Markham, and McGowen and his partner. Typical submissive people.
"Yes, Markham was pretty damn frank." He said, slightly sarcastic. He leaned back in his seat, flicking his pen against the desk, in a rhythmic tapping motion. It filled the slight silence between them, as silent it could get with the muffle of quiet conversations around him. "So, Ophelia, this is a 'learn-more-over-observation' activity. So, tell me what you see." He said coolly. He had himself under control. His eyes even, mouth in a slightly pressed line.
However, he was slightly tense, by the way his shoulders tensed slightly and his finger tapped the pen against the desk. His lashes fluttered slightly as he blinked and he chewed on the inside of his cheek unconsciously. Otherwise, he'd made sure he was neutral. Or trying at least.
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