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Post by OPHELIA MORGAN BAKER on Mar 28, 2012 0:16:00 GMT -5
[/size][/color]phelia was on her way to see her Mother, Olive Baker, current owner of the Midnight Masquerade Circus. Now, she hasn't seen her since she married what's his name Jackson, few years back and that was it. That was the last time they saw each other. And the only reason how she got to be at the wedding was because her Grandmother looked her up and brought her as a plus one. It was kind of a surprise that she found her because she was being tossed from foster home to foster home all over London. And the last family she was adopted into was an Italian family in the West side of London, well off too. But, that didn't stop her from picking up a certain art. Burlesque. "Thank you."[/b] Ophelia said, smiling at the cashier giving him a little wink before walking out the corner store. She had bought a honey bun to take the edge off her hunger and she was craving something sweet. Then, she remembered that she forgot to ask the guy something so, she turned back around and went in around, only to ignore the current customer and lean on the counter, showing a little cleavage. "Oi, you know where the Midnight Masquerade Circus is at? If you do, think maybe you could tell me a shorter way?"[/b] She asked, ignoring the glares and rolling eyes of the people standing in the line. She heard some mutter about her being a freak show hippie because of her asking about the Circus and the way she looked. Her ebony curls were wild and put into a Bellatrix-esque style while her black dress looked Victorian but ruched in the front to make it short. About an inch or two above her knees too. Which her legs were covered by black and white striped stockings. "S-sure, let me r-right it down for you."[/i] The nervous nelly stuttered as he took out a pen and started writing. The lady customer sighed once again, tapping her foot on the ground. Strike two since she was the first one to roll her eyes and glare at Ophelia. "If you can't handle wanting, I suggest you go over there to the other cashier. Oh wait, he's not the guy you just sucked off in the back for a lower price with the gas, ain't he?"[/b] She snapped up the woman, starting to get a little ticked off. The other cashier gasped as the blood red one nearly tossed the paper to the curly haired cobra. "Thanks."[/b] Her blue eyes glared at the woman who did the same back. And even came up with a weak come back. "Freak show cum bucket."[/i] That set her off. "Fuck you, you beastly, gagging bitch!"[/b] Ophelia screamed calling her nasty and desperate, flipping the bird before storming out of the store and mumbling under her breath all the way to the Circus, following the cashier's directions. Luckily, the walk was just wait she needed and she was on the grounds when she started eating her honey bun. She had forgotten about it, being angry and all. Ophelia found the train that travels the country and decided to pop in on Mummy Dearest in her office so, she made her way over to the car. And when she stepped onto it and knocked, she didn't get an answer at first so, she opened it and went in to see the Victorian decor. It brought a smile to her face, loving that fact that she knew where she got her taste from. Then, she found the herpsichord and instantly the tune of Emilie Autumn's Opheliac came to mind. She finished off the bun and licked her fingers close before sitting in front of it and playing. Ophelia played the whole song on the herpsichord and was clueless of who was watching her. [/ul][/color] [/b][/color] *bounces with excitement* Tag:[/i][/b] Momma Olive and Pedo-Mime(Felix)[/size][/center][/font] |
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Post by FELIX ARTHUR MAY on Mar 28, 2012 15:25:26 GMT -5
f o r . a l l . y o u . l o n e l y . b o y s i will be president.
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He pushed himself closer back against the highly ornate wallpaper, the thick dark hair falling messily into his wide, amber eyes. Sunlight streamed in from the window beside him and he blinked as the light moved in and out from behind the drifting clouds.
Felix had just woken up in the train car of (Miss) Olive Baker, the woman he'd been fond of since shortly after birth. The first ten years of his life, he'd grown up believing her to be more of a mother than the housewife who lazed about his childhood home taking care of his invalid sister, Catherine. Of course, as the years progressed, the more he grew to know Miss Olive the more he found himself hopelessly aroused by her mere presence. He'd often thought himself sick in the head for his fantasies, but they were ones he couldn't quite suppress; She was both nurturing and sensual in his ever-anxious eyes, whether she realized it or not.
Ever since becoming reacquainted with her about a week ago, he'd found himself regressing terribly and proceeded to follow her about like a lost puppy.
Shortly after rising numbly off a high-backed couch, Felix had half-shamefully snooped about and found a glorious bottle of vodka, which he'd taken up without question. Nothing like alcohol to take away all the stresses of the morning. He'd leapt up with little difficultly onto an antique cabinet and had been sitting there, cross-legged for the past fifteen minutes, taking in the oncoming spring from a small window. (Should have been an acrobat).
The air inside was fairly warm due to poor ventilation. In fact, it was most likely warmer indoors than the cool of the day beyond the windowpane, and yet Felix hardly minded.
In all actual fact, he had no real idea what he was doing following the circus around if not for Olive. Sure there were his roommates, John and Lacey who were causing some kind of havoc in their own right. He guessed he could have done some stupid stunts and landed a real position, and yet, he figured that would have been all together mortifying. He'd much rather hide out in here and slowly nurse away all of the Ringmaster's vodka supply. John would most likely be very jealous. He laughed gently at the thought and was just about to put the glass bottle to his lips once more when the door to the car suddenly bounced open.
He blinked and froze for a moment, unsure if what he was doing was allowed. Felix slunk back against the wall like a startled cat, making himself quite smaller than his already slight frame and felt his breath catch in his throat.
Seeing as this was indeed, Olive's trailer, it was to be assumed she would return. The female who walked through the door, however did not look like the one he'd seen leave. She looked like the girl he'd known about ten years ago. And yet, that was impossible. He wondered briefly if his mind was playing very cruel tricks on him. After some time, pondered if it was his place to go throwing vodka bottles at intruders like the good guard dog he was when he observed her smile enthusiastically and make straight for an antique harpsichord positioned in the corner. (Oh, god was she really licking her fingers like that? Kinky.)
Felix raised an eyebrow and studied her curiously. She was definitely attractive, that much he could tell. Didn't appear to be doing damage to property and wasn't digging around for profit. No, she was just playing a very haunting song on a complex instrument he wasn't even sure Olive herself knew how to properly operate.
Carefully and as noiselessly as possible, Felix unfolded his legs and stretched them out across the top of the cabinet, finding himself bobbing his foot in time to the strange music.
After a time, he took a visual interest in her dress. It was very much like Olive's. Short. (Could get a good look at her panties if he leaned his head a bit to the right). Perhaps they were friends? Acquaintances? Yet that didn't explain their obvious likeness. And yet…Felix knew she'd had a daughter; one she'd been forced to give up. But that wasn't likely. That had been back in England.
Whoever she was, she looked as if she belonged. Was certainly behaving as such. He figured he'd enjoy the view in silence. If Olive came back and the girl wasn't supposed to be here, she'd be dealt with accordingly. No need to get involved.
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oooooooooo baby xD felix likey.
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Post by OLIVE MARGARET BAKER on Mar 28, 2012 17:56:37 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] SINGING IN THE OLD BARS, SWINGING WITH THE OLD STARS WORDS: 950+ OUTFIT: here TAGS: ophelia/felix ! NOTES: <3 *squeee*
She'd never been particularly fond of meetings with the rest of the circus' management crew. Not because they were difficult or unruly, but for the simple fact that she always wound up with more on her plate than she'd started with. Today's gathering had been no different, and two hours of directionless banter felt to the Ringmaster like time utterly wasted as she slipped away from the big top and made for the heart of New York via dirty yellow cab. At least she'd set the others on the right track…Though, it was near impossible to assess whether they'd thoroughly carry out her advisements. God, as in so many other duties, heading the board like this used to be her husband's job. And it certainly placed an incredible amount of stress on Olive to take sudden responsibility, herself. But, no matter. She knew how to cope well enough with difficulty; always had since she'd left England for a new life at twenty years old…
Retail therapy. It was a good temporary fix when her mood had deflated and when money started burning a considerable hole in her pocket. And while the circus had taken root here, what better place for copious amounts of spending than the Big Apple? Her red lips stiffened into an expression of complete determination as she handed the taxi driver his tip and floated out into the churning bustle of personality-less pedestrians. She'd lived here long enough with Bradley Jackson to be well-acquainted with the finest shopping venues. And of course, in her storm of stress and irritation, the main target of her mission was going to be clothing. Some odd vintage dress and a pair heels would suit her just fine, Olive thought. And so the hunt commenced. Weaving in and out of shops like a bee darting from flower to flower for sustenance. The search carried on for a good couple of hours until her cash had dissolved, and she found herself with two designer gowns modeled after nineteenth-century royalty, a pair of pointed boots, as well as some sunglasses she'd been swayed into buying by some fine older gentleman who'd told her they looked quite becoming. She smirked. Thirty-eight years old, and she was still a sucker for that kind of flattery.
It was late afternoon by the time Olive arrived back at the circus, feeling a bit tired but in significantly higher spirits then when she'd departed the meeting. Her arms were weighed down by the spoils of the afternoon, and her eyes were like those of an antique movie star behind the frames of her new, rounded glasses. Olive wasn't expecting any company tonight…She'd just pop into the office for a few and take care of some paperwork before succumbing to a cup of tea, and sleep. An uneventful night, that was for certain. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a real social get-together. Couldn't remember the last time she'd had proper sex…Bradley, towards the end of his short life, hadn't done her much good in either of those departments.
She frowned, shifting the shopping bags from one hand to the other as she opened the door into her office. Immediately, a trickling of music met her ear, and she recognized it as a product of the harpsichord even before she caught sight of the mystery musician. She'd never played the thing apart from a few mindless musings over the keys, and had had it added to the office for appearance's sake more than anything else. Felix? Since she'd picked him up again he'd certainly devoted much of his time to her office here. But no, Olive decided, he wasn't that spontaneous, and if he had the musical talent, he'd never made it known to her before. She stepped into the room with authority, her shaded eyes trained towards the keyed instrument as she went. And there stood none other than--
"Ophelia?" Olive asked incredulously, recognizing her daughter almost immediately though they'd only been reunited once a couple of years ago. On her wedding day surrounded by pure, white drapery and gaudy floral arrangements. "My god! What's brought you here?" she questioned loudly, dropping her bags to the floor and throwing her arms around the other. "Sorry I wasn't in. Went shopping after a meeting and I s'pose I got a bit carried away. Nothing like some good old-fashioned retail therapy though, eh?" She laughed. That half-cackle for which she was well-known. "Next time, I recommend calling first before marching on in here, love. Mummy was afraid some intruder'd broken in for a go on the harpsichord. If it's not the envy of the circus it really ought to be…Took me long enough to find one to stick in here like this." Slowly, she pulled away from the embrace, and as she did so her dark eyes took note of a figure sitting perched atop the cabinets.
"Felix! Come down from there, won't you?" she called to her assistant, signaling with her hands for him to dismount the furniture. He seemed to enjoy holing himself up in odd places and she figured it was for solidarity's sake. In a sense, he was still a little boy to Olive, and she felt the need to look out for him and his strange antics. Upon closer observation, she realized that he was holding a bottle of liquor up to his lips, and her gaze widened considerably. "I don't remember telling you that was fair game, Felix," she said testily, nodding in the direction of the farthest cabinet as though wordlessly ordering him to return it.
"Ah, well. I don't suppose you two have officially met? Felix, this is my daughter, Ophelia. And Ophelia, my assistant, Felix. I've known him since he was bitty baby, you know." She smiled in vague amusement, sorely wishing more than ever that she'd gotten to see Ophelia grow up. She was her daughter, after all, and the two of them bore so much resemblance. And yet there was still so much to learn…
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Post by OPHELIA MORGAN BAKER on Mar 28, 2012 19:24:45 GMT -5
[/size][/color] phelia?" was heard in the office causing the black haired burlesque dancer to turn and see her Mum standing there with a surprised look on her face. Ophelia had to smile because she truly missed her and after the wedding, she had her last name changed from Roberteno to Baker. Her foster parents were hurt at first but got over it after kicking her out. Though they did give her money to find a flat for her own and that was it. "Hey mummy."[/b] She said, getting up from the bench only to be nearly choked to death by Olive. "My god! What's brought you here?"[/i] She laughed, sounding just like her Mother. Scary but oh so very true. "I missed you and I wanted to join the Midnight Masquerade since the Roberteno's kicked me out, couple years back."[/b] Ophelia said, having the feeling that her mum was going to ask the typical answer to that. But instead she was going on her retail therapy which she could fully understand, since she was the same way. Like mother, like daughter. "Next time, I recommend calling first before marching on in here, love. Mummy was afraid some intruder'd broken in for a go on the harpsichord. If it's not the envy of the circus it really ought to be…Took me long enough to find one to stick in here like this."[/i] Ophelia rubbed the back of her neck, when the embrace was broken. "I would have on the way here but, I got into a li'l scrape at the corner store. No one's hurt, don't worry."[/b] She explained, praying to God that Olive wouldn't ask about what happened. Even though she has the feeling that she will. Then, Ophelia heard her tell someone named Felix to get down from some place so, she turned thinking it was going to be a cat until her blue eyes landed on a thin Mime like man. Holding a bottle of liquor. Olive introduced them to each other and Ophelia caught on that Felix might have been looking at her, and crossed her arms under her back. "Enjoyed the li'l concert, eh?"[/b][/color][/ul] [/b][/color] <3 Tag:[/i][/b] Momma Olive and Pedo-Mime(Felix)[/size][/center][/font] |
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Post by FELIX ARTHUR MAY on Mar 29, 2012 18:56:33 GMT -5
f o r . a l l . y o u . l o n e l y . b o y s i will be president.
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The music continued on for a good few minutes and Felix found himself being briefly lulled. Between the sound of the harpsichord and the warmth of the vodka now in the pit of his stomach, he could have easily fallen asleep. The air was lifeless and sun-warmed and he would have nearly toppled off the cabinet if it weren't for the sudden sound of the door once more bursting open. The familiar voice of Miss Olive met his ears and Felix's eyes fluttered open. He pulled himself back up into the more shadowed corner.
As the Ringmaster wandered in, he looked between the two figures below. It was as if he was gazing upon Olive in both the past and present. That cascading dark hair. The red lips. Victorian style clothing. The expression. So they were related. She'd called Olive "Mummy".
And she was Ophelia? The longer he studied the two of them he was able to find the subtle differences.
She was taller for one. (Probably around his height). Had lighter eyes. But her voice held the same weight. That same accent that he'd been starved of for the past few years. He listened curiously as Olive fretted over her. Wanted to know why she was there. Mentioned something about the harpsichord. He'd felt a strange sensation of jealousy erupt in his stomach and crossing his legs once more he mulled it over. He'd just been reacquainted with Miss Olive. Was finding himself under the impression that she was so very much like a mother to him, that he wasn't in the mood to share. But then why should he find himself attracted to her? Like some terribly clingy boyfriend, or an incredibly rude child. Sometimes he wondered just what place he had in Olive's eyes. Didn't add up to her daughter….
As these thoughts trickled slowly through his head and as he worked out each element with precision and vague annoyance, he suddenly heard his name. Jumping rigidly to attention, he blinked and caught the end of what Miss Olive had said.
"---won't you?"
He studied her hands. Yes. She wanted him to come down.
A bit grudgingly and stiffly, as his legs were now cramped from the tight space, Felix swung down from his perch and landed lightly on the floor, vodka in hand. For someone so awkward on his feet, he was incredibly nimble when it came to leaping up into things. (Flight over Fight.)
He took one last swig from the bottle before smiling sheepishly at her next statement.
(Far too many things were not fair game). Though he debated returning the drink, Felix turned to the new girl as Olive formally introduced them, now feeling slightly less self-conscious. He doubled over at the waist, giving her a low bow before meeting her gaze and flashing a tiny grin.
"A pleasure" He breathed, bouncing back on his heels. His eyes unconsciously raked over her now that he was in closer proximity.
(Hot. Yes, he was beginning to feel his own temperature flare.)
As she asked if he'd enjoyed the concert, he nodded fighting a laugh, gaze unblinking and trained just over her head so he'd avoid the awkward sensation of making eye contact.
"It was a .. brilliant performance."
Spinning on his heel, he turned to Miss Olive, and held the precious alcohol out to her. "Sure you wouldn't like some, Ma'am?"
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blaaah not the best -_-' felix needs to talk more xD
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Post by OLIVE MARGARET BAKER on Mar 31, 2012 16:51:55 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] SINGING IN THE OLD BARS, SWINGING WITH THE OLD STARS WORDS: 650+ OUTFIT: here TAGS: ophelia/felix ! NOTES: <3
It was strange just how alike their laughter happened to be. That even though they'd hardly had the time to get to know each other, genetics stuck to them, regardless. She wondered vaguely whether Ophelia was anything like Anderson…But then, Olive hadn't known much about the man to begin with, before he fled town and his wife like a hapless criminal. Was it odd that she didn't care to know what had become of him? That his sudden spurt of sexual desire did not leave her feeling vengeful or bitter? Maybe she'd simply blocked out those circumstances of her adolescence, in sheer determination to grow up and move onward...
"Kicked you out? What for?" Olive questioned once her daughter's words set in. She could hardly imagine the Robertenos rationale for such a heartless action. Though, Olive supposed, she was rather biased in her opinions of Ophelia. She imagined the Robertenos were something like her mother in that they were probably wealthy and strict, and quite possibly religious to boot. Olive liked to think she'd developed into the exact opposite of the woman she'd left behind in London. "Ah, well. They're not worth it," she said plainly, brushing off Ophelia's foster family as though they'd never been worthy of her presence to begin with, "You'll fit in here just fine, I'm sure. What is it you'd like to do?" She smiled, wondering the sort of profession she would've chosen for herself had she not landed in the lap of the circus. Something in fashion, perhaps. Where she could let her creativity run wild without the constraints of societal expectation.
Plucking the sunglasses from her face, Olive bent and lifted up her shopping bags before turning back to her daughter in slight surprise. "A fight? Over what?" She felt as though her head was clouded with nothing but questions of late, but she wanted very much to uncover all she could about her long-lost daughter. Just seeing her standing there, twenty-two years old, made Olive want to feel like a mother over anything else in the world. It was as though a hollow had been dug out somewhere inside of her that was dully aching to be filled. She couldn't help but worry about the supposed scuffle that had occurred at the corner store.
After a time, Olive steered herself out of the main room for a moment in order to toss her shopping bags atop her own polished mahogany desk. On her return, Felix was carrying through with his introduction to Ophelia, and Olive could plainly hear the influence of posh parentage in his voice. The Mays had been a formal bunch, and she remembered them exceptionally well. Always buzzing about the house intent on keeping things in meticulous order.
Though she'd ordered Felix to return the bottle of vodka, he held it out to her instead, and Olive felt a smile pull at her lips. "Mmm," she said, debating the possibility as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "A bit of alcohol, maybe, but I'm not much in the mood for straight vodka, darling." She laughed and tapped a finger to his nose, "Tell you what, though. You go and get a bottle of champagne from the cabinet and we'll call it a party, eh?" She was feeling generous.
And, besides, Olive couldn't help thinking she ought to do something in order to celebrate the return of her daughter. She still had time to be a proper mother, yet.
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