[Vidaline la Mothe]

VIDALINE LINORE LA MOTHE
...Accessorizing with a rosary tucked inside her lingerie...
Moonlighting aside she really needs his money...
Oh, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy



S E E R S . WANDERER

My name is Vidaline la Mothe but you can call me Vida or la Sainte Vierge if you’re a past customer or referral if that's got too many syllables for you to handle. If you're looking for me, you might find me around the Topaz at night or roaming the Creative District or kiddie attractions by day where I'm a escorte femelle in the evening hours and starving chanteuse & au pair during the day and off nights.

I might look like I'm in my very early twenties but I'm actually thirty; hard to believe, right? Roughly, I'm 5' 6½" tall, last I checked, and I'd be the first to admit I'm a little on the slender side, but don't hold that against me. Loads have people have told me how much I resemble Marion Cotillard but personally, I don't see it.

F I R S T . I M P R E S S I O N S

The Music of the Night & Sinful Lies
Come with the fading light of day and ghostly shine of the moon, this bébé doux transforms into a lady of the night. But this is an utter falsehood for this lady is a maiden of pure driven snow. Yet why does she head out every night under such false pretenses? Determination; a determination to help a loved one is what that intent look in her bitter blue eyes is; now only those truly close to her would be able to interpret that strong eyed stare for what it is.

Now should you be strolling the streets one cold lonely night or sulking in the dark corner of your normal haunt, and, oh, have more biased mores than most; you might find yourself staring hungrily after the mysterious lady with charm irresistible. But if you’re more of a socially upstanding gentleman (or lady) you might not—that is until she senses something stirring within you the moment you give what you hoped was your last fleeting glance. For soon after that supposedly last glance and the guilty thoughts of what you’re spouse would say if they ever found what you could have done begin to storm your mind; you’re doomed.

For the moment her eyes fall upon you, you previous thoughts will be replaced with shameless fantasies and your once straitlaced demeanor with complete moral ambiguity; this is all incepted by a glittering dark wink and sensual smile. You’ll wake up the next morning soon finding you coughed up a certain amount of currency for you what swear was the best night of your life—now that could be true of course if it actually happened...

The Garish Light of Day & Revealed Truths
Under the light of the sun, your meeting will be a completely different sort. During the warm rays of day, you’d find a mere woman trying to make her next rent payment by singing her heart out on one of the street corners of the Creative District. Now a rare but not nearly impossible meeting could happen at night with this starving artist as she taps away to a tune at a club or open mike night. Where once after her performance either day or that special night, you could strike up a completely civil conversation—of your own free will.

You might even encounter her playing in the sun with the young one(s) under her watch and care. You’ll see the future mother in her being to bloom when she plays hide and seek with a sprightly toddler. The happiness beaming on her face radiates attracting more suitable attention to her. Her laughter rings light and free stirring a mixture of positive emotions in those round her. You’ll see a beaming happy woman; her smiles being contagious and her words entrapping. She’ll strike up stories of long ago or simply make tales up for the entertainment of others. Her articulate words are met with graceful gestures and light touches.

And would the dawn of light attract her? Yes, at its breaking she will be up and moving. Preparing for the day by starting with a quick morning mass followed by a filling breakfast at her favorite diner, Vidaline will continue the day by popping by her places of employment to grab her work schedules—one more enjoyable than the other. In truth those schedules are the only planned agendas. Vidaline otherwise just glides through the day doing the first thing that comes to mind. Life is unpredictable and one should be caught unaware by its random appearance. You never know what you might miss.

You’d realize overall that Vidaline is driven individual with a kind heart. She is just another person trying to survive in the world. She is just another dream chaser.

F A S H I O N . P A S S I O N

Moulin Rogue
By light of the silvery moon she dresses to the nines for saving up quite a bit of money can go along way—but so does a trusty sewing machine. She’ll strut about in stilettos, pumps, wedges, or even ballet flats. All they have to do is really complete the outfit—and possibly be good enough to make a run for it if need be. The same could be said for handbags; the less and lighter the better. Jewelry is few but tactfully planned and well matched. The precious metals normally being sleek silver or glistening white gold, yet she been known to display the more golden metallic. The lovely stones will always be her favorite décor besides intricate metal work.

Of course the attire for the female escort will be scandalous, but she works her magic with whatever fabric or bought clothing to look less obvious. When she is tousling and teasing a paying customer, she looks positively belle in the most sensual way possible. In either a little mysterious ebony, pure ivory, provocative jade, racy violet or come-hither red of flattering styles, she flaunts titillating sophistication. Now the said styles are normally branching from the dress family and tend to be the great finds or fixed pieces she hunts for in consignment or vintage stores.

Now to her dismay, time and time again she has had to invest in pretty under garments. The bits of lace and silk hide and curve her feminine form for those men that desire a peek show of sorts beforehand. The lingerie presents the French fashion in its most sensual light. Her hosiery is just as related to her fashionable motherland in her opaque or sheer thigh highs. And of course the occasional flash of fish net stockings works as well for her. Yet both the lingerie and hosiery seems to channel the vintage era of pin-up girls.

The cosmetics are simple but their expression is almost preternatural. From smoky eyes with blood red lips to full lashes with kissable primrose gloss, her make-up applied smoothly and evenly. Her dark locks may be up with wavy tresses of hair, down for appropriate caressing, or soft playful curls.

She knows she has to appear a certain way in the face of her clientele, but one thing she will not do is look positively trashy.

Modern Poppins
Her night work attire will absolutely need to change when she is watching over little ones. The clothing department shift is staggeringly different and seems to exhibit the innocent and gentle lamb within.

In the shining rays of the sun she is warm and causal and of course cool and causal. Soft cotton and knit materials are her favorites whether it’s a sweater, jacket, shirt, etc. Denim jeans are always her first choice for bottoms and as long as the material is flexible all is well when doing cartwheels and such.
As long as she can be comfortable in the clothing, she’s comfortable anywhere. And it thus has to be clothing she can get dirty in when she is playing with the children under her care.

The colors mustn’t be too wild and obscene but must be able to standout to attract eyes in a pleasing manner rather then be an eye sore. So they’ll be they more smoothing shades of greens, blues, and purples, or warm reds, oranges, and yellows. She’ll normally wear old, battered Converse Chucks that she found at a consignment store or flip-flop around in scandals once the weather is nice, but she does wear the occasional flat heeled boot. It’s a well known fact that running after children in heels is ill advised.

Her hair is freer during the times of complete comfort and lack of lying. The dark (or even golden) waves bounce about her face with tickling wisps. The make-up is slim to none. Maybe the occasionally gloss, but otherwise it is a clean face and a tube of Chap Stick.

D I M P L E S . A N D . T H I N G S

Natural Beauty
Of the natural imperfections of her skin, one will notice the off center faint freckle on her forehead. Now of course she’ll have the occasional little spots somewhere on her body, but you’d have to actually found that out for yourself—if she’ll let you that is.

Should one ever succeed in seeing her nu, you’ll may caress a longing hand down her bare side to find a dark beauty spot of sorts on the middle right side of her back and the three scattered freckles on her lower abdomen.

Scar Stories, Anyone?
Now the only unnatural imperfections she has are a pale thin scar going diagonal across the center of her lower back. She also has a scar on the back of her head. Luckily her hair hides it. This was inflicted by a past amant, who was not very pleased to hear that she would not lie down with him until marriage...

W H Y . D I D . Y O U . D O . I T

Can’t Boast Much
She has not one tattoo, but has always thought of at least getting a single, meaningful one. She does however have her ears pierced and that is about it. [/i]

M A N . W I T H O U T . S K I N

Saint & Wannabe Sinner
Kind, loving, loyal, and above all—determined. These are the words to best describe Vidaline’s personality. These wonderful qualities were nurtured by individuals possessing such traits. It was their love and care for her that made her strong despite whatever doubts she may have of herself.

It was because of Sister Margot who in Vidaline’s mind was as good enough a mother as she would ever get that her love for children came into being. Sister was her model of the perfect child care giver. Working alongside young children with goodness and tough love for those who needed discipline reflected back on Vidaline when she would years later work with children herself. She remembers when she had Sister Margot as a teacher when she was about nine years old and how she imagined her as the mother of all those in the classroom. She knew then that she wanted to be such an epitome of motherly love and that she felt she could be a good mother as Sister could have been had she not taken the vocation.

It was Sister Margot who directed Vidaline to take work at a nanny agency. It wasn’t the best job money wise with the growing medical bills for her father arriving almost every week, but she didn’t let that stop her from taking the job. If it might working with children whom she could be a good model for like those who raised her, then it was job worth taking. The pay of this career would go towards her needs which are not demanding. Vidaline only needs enough for the necessities to keep her going everyday.

Even though he is not her biological father, Stéphane, her adoptive father, was such a disciplined and firm man himself that these traits passed on to her. He was a devout Catholic, but neither in the radical sense nor in the most faithful sense either after an incident in his life. Thus she got both a believer’s view of religion in the sense of believing in a Higher Power as well as an atheist’s. Sadly, in some (many in her count) cases the Catholic upbringing he raised her in has only been effective in the areas of love and marriage—or more precisely on the matter of sex. She finds the idea of giving herself soul and body to her one true love terribly romantic.

He knew that the real world was not black and white as the Bible believes we should see it. He knew it was all a gray area and that we needed to pick it apart to truly distinguish good from evil; right from wrong. He explained to her that the Bible was like philosophical literature. It was written for individualized interpretation and not all the beliefs (more the ones that contradicted with science and society) of the church were more for guidance.

Stéphane was also quite capable of seeing into a person and this quality helped Vidaline with her own abilities of literally seeing into (or really her cautious controlling of) others. She knew that being able to take away a person’s free will was a curse and not gift as some might had have seen it. She knew she was not God, but when things turned for the worse with her father’s health. Vidaline grimly realized that this curse would assist her in one way or another. It was him whom she thinks about every time she whispers sweet-nothings into a potential client’s ear filling his head with never-to-occur images. She knew that the money was going to help his needs.

But it would the later visits to France (once she was able to afford it) to that well established nursing home that her heart would break not seeing any type of progress in his health. It was this that made her continue working a well-paid lie. Working until the day she would arrive to that home and he would remember her name. That he would remember when he helped her practice her music. Remember that it was him who introduced it to her.

Now Vida would go down the path of love and its different branches like most would. We would all start on the branch of family love if we’re lucky. From there we would begin to see that we could have feelings for others that differed from the love of family. They were more intimate and stronger emotions. It was this love that Vidaline holds high alongside her family love. It was this love that fights with lust every single day within her once she realized them both during her teenage years. Both biting and scratching away at each other for dominance. And it was in this conflict that she was drawn to a man who was more one than the other. While he was completely ruled by this vicious vice, the love aspect of herself was ruling and would not succumb to him—despite the pokes and prods the lust aspect gave.

It was during this time with this man that she began to feel true fear. He frightened her and excited her. His exotic emotions were a wild ride with her innocent mind. A naive mind that desperately was tempted to quench the risqué she imagined would occur if she gave in. And as much as she wanted to act on what he was emanating, she knew that if she did what he wanted—would that mean she truly loved him or was she satisfying her newfound ecstasy? It turned out to be the latter and this augmented the fear. Vidaline was not ready for what he was or desired as well as her own wants and desires which in her mind were selfish.

With the false actions she flaunts to men thinking they’ll be bedding her, Vidaline channels those emotions from the past and present putting them into some “appropriate” usage. Although who knows whether or not this really wise, she is now plagued with sexual repression and the fight between lust and love still wages on.

And she now thinks about how her father said that the teachings of their faith were open to interpretation to fit into the world current. Vidaline knows that being a thirty year old virgin is entirely abnormal for this day and age. She knows that having pre-marital sex has its many disadvantages. But what about the advantages? This is her biggest question and it drives her mad.

As late it seems dealing with friends (these friends being both fellow artists of the Creative District and even a few entertainers from the local strip club and others from the agencies) is much easier than dealing with the idea of lovers. She has always been able to be sociable and polite when meeting new people. In fact she has no problem with talking with a complete stranger by the bus stop. But she knows which people to avoid the moment they shake hands with her or any touch with them. She’ll never be truly rude to someone unless she thinks they deserve a dose of reality to fix whatever problem they have (this lovely trait matured under the influence of her “boss” whose wicked tongue whipped at anyone asking for it). And should they start a verbal fight she is ready for the challenge and can easily stop it as easily as it was for them to start it (another quality developed from the numerous arguments with the “boss”). All she would need to do is recollect anything from their head when she had made physical contact of any sort with them and use it against them.

Thus these belligerent tendencies prove in a way that Vidaline is not shy when comes to being an angry individual at times. She has had moments where she could completely trash her bedroom cursing at the top of her lungs. The stress of the things going on in her life and times of depression tag along with that rage to egg it on. Lately she seems to sink into these irritable moods more often, but she overcomes them in some shape or form.

The possible development of these negative emotions does root back to her incident with her old flame (or they are linked to the financial struggles she has been in over the years). The misfortune of her first somewhat serious relation had taken her naivety about the concepts of love and submerged it into the waves of bitterness she has these years later. The bitterness hides just beneath the surface only to rear its ugly head time and time again when she is more than tempted to just screw over her sexual dogmas.

S H O W . O F F

Speaking in Tongues
French being her native tongue; Vida finds that it creates appeal to speak it frequently for clients—unfortunately most enjoy it. Anyhow she’d receive an excellent education that would help her learn English quite well enough where it became second nature to her. She has been known though to add the occasional French phrase or slang or completely break out into her more comfortable tongue.

Poetic Angel of Music
It was due to her being adopted by a music teacher that she’d learn she possessed a voice as heavenly as the angelic hosts. This sparked her greatest dream of becoming great singer and if things had gone better she is certain she would have attained her aspiration already. Or is that too presumptuous? And where would she be without the skill of playing piano? Probably lost when it came to writing the music to her songs, feeling the keys calms her whenever she is terribly stressed. The piano is not only an essential but a therapeutic outlet.

Because of her deep love of literature she absorbed herself in not only prose but poetics. Her poems are clear revealers to her emotions at the time she wrote them. They’re even clearer when she sings them.

Raggedy Ann
She also is expertly handy with a needle; this of course developed when she younger and money was even scarcer. The holes in clothing were too bothersome to patch over once again, so she would take them apart and make new outfits for herself and her father. She still does it to this day, but now only for herself...
The World’s A Stage
Now working in the world’s oldest profession and retaining one’s virginity in the process takes not only her ability to turn the man (or woman’s) itching for her’s mind, but a bit of playing make believe in the process. Although she would never considering doing it professionally, she would do some stage if it meant getting paid well enough to support her father back in France.

E P I C . F A I L

For Family
Her father is the only reason for why she must roam the night as a false paramour. But do not think ill of him! For it was a matter of money—a vast amount needed in short amounts of time—which turned her toward this possible double life. She’d do anything to see him well again.

Hopeless Romantic
Yes, so this was the reason she nearly got killed, need I say more? Well, maybe. She is a firm believer in saving herself for marriage and this has been part of her religious upbringing and it’s only best result of it. But it was the numerous romance novels of true love and love at first sight that led her into the arms of a man wanting more than she could possibly give without feeling shame. Vidaline keeps hopeful nonetheless, however, she is more cautious despite the probability she could slip. Though the hopefulness could be mistaken for the remaining naivety she still possesses and the cautiousness the bitterness she now has.

Separating Truth from Fantasy
It seems fiction has done more damage than actual real life experience. She is beginning to become more and more engulfed and tempted to do the things she creates within the minds of those desiring her nighttime services; she is disgusted by what she concocts and feels and attends confession (which she absolutely loathes) whenever she can because of it.

Firm Belief & Wicked Things Don’t Mix
Her adamant stance on being abstinent seems to be responsible for why she can let go of what happened in the past. It was this that has pushed her in sexual repression and self-conscious behavior when she’s dealing in the real world—or with men. Thus temptations are a constant! But they circle only around that one devious vice—lust. It is through her great feats of acting in one of her many lines of work that she seems to release this wicked streak, but not exactly as one would think healthy.

The Sugarcoated Bitterness
This bébé doux is also one bébé amer. After what she thought had been her first serious relationship and that the near traumatizing incident that followed with it, she began to finally see her foolishness and still to this day curses her naïve thoughts as her greatest weakness. A weakness she knows could be her downfall in the end other than her major vice. The bitter quality was born just after that bad relationship when she woke up in a hospital and still breaths in her every newfound views of love. Yet her nightshift helps along with the cheating husbands and boyfriends (or wives and girlfriends) flocking to the escort agency looking for someone else to warm their beds at night then those who they have whispered those three little words so many times.

T R I C K S . F O R . T R E A T S

A Hotter Touch
Empathic telepathy; these abilities seemed to have always been there since the beginning of her life connected to the root. As a wee babe should the moment anyone remotely remorse or depressed touch her, she herself would wail a storm no comforting touch could alleviate. Telepathic aspect started sometime after but yet again the only way she could hear the minds of others was for them to touch her and it could be the briefest of brushes. She’d only pick up garbled words and distorted images. The distortion of these transmissions could be the fact that she is picking more emotional areas of the brain. These are the weakest of her abilities and she would never dare rely on them if she was faced with a deadly situation. They have a tendency to steer her wrong in discerning the emotions of another individual the reason being.

And Hold A Lover Close?
Mind control; this is the trick to her fame as a call girl whose is reportedly a virgin. This is her strongest ability and to her is her curse. Sort of sins of the mother curse. It is this power that she is able to convince men (and we mustn’t forget the occasional women) that they will and have had the time of their lives when in truth it was all a mental fabrication and nothing more or less. This power did not gain favor with her until she was much older and its use finally was well appreciated at the time. It in fact saved her life and since then it has gotten her out of more tight spots as it has helped her gain the money needed for her father. It is also this power that has helped her begin to realize that there may be those like her—for some minds she has come across have been endowed with immunity to her mental spellbinding. Something she is not quite joyous about—especially with the mental fatigue it brings her after usage.

L I K E S

- Music and the joy it fills her with
-Love and all its glorious forms
-Her family keeps her going despite the situation of her father
-Children and their youthful energy make her hopeful for motherhood
-Her profession as a nanny gives her more joy than she could possibly explain
-Literature, not only is it her favorite pastime, but it is highly useful in her one line of work
-Old films and the lovely, fierce actresses who enthrall the audience with their presence
-A charming and gentle man is like catnip to her
-Oh, the sinful taste of an excellent make of chocolate!
-Cruising the city streets on her Vespa on a wonderful day
-Curling up with a notebook on the couch or the soft grass of Meyrick Park and writing to her heart’s content

D I S L I K E S

-Her moonlighting career...
-Her exploitation of those for monetary gain through her abilities
-Her sexual daydreams...
-Her belief about love and sex, it makes living life—like really living life so hard
-Cruelty towards the weak and disillusioned
-Thus immortality and all its forms despite their attractions
-Being blinded by infatuation and not seeing the object of her affections for what he is
-Feeling alone is something she is not quite fond of at all
-Men who terribly remind her of her past “lover”
-Her attraction to alcohol; she a bit of a wino

D O W N L O W

-Yes, she is an honest to God vierge
-The morals are more built from what she has learned from in life than from her religious background and her interpretation of it; more or less she knows what is right and what is wrong seeing it for what is
-No one knows of her powers and in turn she has never met anyone with such abilities—well she has her suspicions about that
-Her dream would be becoming a famous songwriter and singer if Fate smiles in her favor
-She has a tendency to display a case of sexual repression expect when she is playing pretend. It is in a real intimate situation with a man that she seems completely lost in raw human lust; she fights desperately the temptation to rip the poor bastard’s clothes off
-Vidaline thus has difficulty expressing even innocent love
-She is a smoker; it has grown out of stress to relieve said stress
-Her musical role model is Edith Piaf; La Môme Piaf was always one of her favorites singers to hear playing round the house
-Now once—just once she almost did the dirty deed with a rather attractive (but ungodly drunk) American whose she can’t really recall...

I M M E D I A T E

Mummy Dearest
Luce ?, 18, prostitute, deceased

Daddy’s Girl
Stéphane la Mothe, 75, suffering from Alzheimer’s

S I G N I F I C A N T

Guardian Angel
Sister Margot Thérèse, 63, elementary religion teacher

Ex-Lover...& Good Riddance
Rawdon St. George, 35, barrister

False Friend
Cassandra Hines, 56, “boss”, owner of Eros Escorts

Little Girl
Gillian Hines, 8, Cassandra’s daughter

T H I N G S . I V E . S E E N

From Death comes Life
She used to believe in her worst nightmares she could hear mother’s screams of pain as the contractions came faster and faster. That it was like a long buried memory—the events of her birth. But really it was her over active imagination.

Vidaline had been born in a Parisian convent September 22, 1979. Her mother had been an eighteen year old prostitute thus her biological father could have been a multiple choice of men. Her mother would die from internal bleeding but luckily the poor soul got to name her little one. It would be in the minutes before her eminent demise that she would breathe her final request. Sister Margot was asked by the young Luce to who the nun was the closest thing to being a dear friend to watch over her child and guide her.

Sister Margot would vow to treat Vidaline like her own before watching the light disappear out of Luce’s eyes. The next few weeks would be spent doing just that and one Sunday morning another would be inducted into that solemn promise. Stéphane la Mothe would be intrigued by the little Vidaline’s crying that morning for the child sensed the sadness within the nun.

The babe was to be taken to the orphanage where she would hopefully be adopted by a loving family. Margot was fearful that the baby would not be fortunate and wind up in a family of ill background. The nun was worried that history would repeat itself due to an old Bible verse of sins of the father but placed in more appropriate terms concerned the nun greatly. The child felt the turmoil within the nun and it broke the wee one’s heart.

Now Stéphane la Mothe was their savior. Only forty-five years of age and a music teacher, this man had been divorced sometime ago when his wife left him for the man she was having an affair with. This had left a great hole in him and every day it filled with a depression that dragged him further and further away from others. He absorbed himself into his music and looked to the Church for strength even though he had a now atheist view of it.

Sister Margot upon seeing him was struck by an epiphany, while Stéphane la Mothe has struck by absolute love upon seeing little Vidaline. Hearing her journey so far and what may occur should she got to the orphanage, he empathized. To him Vidaline was the child he and his wife could have had but now never would. To Margot he was the father that Vidaline needed and was a man she knew well enough that she was certain Vidaline would be safe with. It was then planned that the moment Vidaline would be taken and registered into the orphanage that Stéphane would hasten to file for her adoption. And some time later, little Vidaline would find herself playing by the hearth of a fireplace in his musical home.

She grew with both her surrogate parents by her side guiding and supporting her. Vidaline would become an avid music student after many years of hearing musical notes throughout Stéphane’s home. Once her voice was developed enough Stéphane would hear the beginnings of a flawless first Soprano blossoming. And from this her training began and the aspiration to become a professional singer did likewise. Unfortunately for the religious aspect of her growth, it was strong as a child but as she aged it seemed that the world and other things maturing in her that the role of God was a weak line to any righteousness

For the other things to develop before her aspiration and more human talents and to deteriorate her possible salt of the earth attitude ... one in particular filled her with dread. It was a curse in her eyes and despite the fact it was tempting to use. Her selflessness could not swallow the effects if she tested the ability. In the time she learned of the ability the mental pull strings she played with were harmless, but their successful ends often worried her. The last thing she wanted was to be corrupted by it knowing fully well how it could serve her. Now the lesser and second made her withdraw from the touches of others than family and it may be the true reason for her abstinence years later. It certainly was an alarming moment during her first kiss to hear what really was going on in the young man’s mind whose hands moved—too well.

When Dreaming Ends
The young hopeful woman would set off to the Royal College of Music in London. She was entering the renowned college via a scholarship. She remembered the day that her and her father made the trip to the college to attend the auditions. Vida recalls clearer however the day they got the letter about her acceptance and award.

RCM is one of the world’s leading conservatories. Gifted musicians from all over the corners of the earth come to be trained for international careers within the arts. There Vidaline would be put under the tutelage and guidance of professors with worldwide reputations. Vida would finally be able to unlock her full potential and reach the stars.
Yet it seemed that the moment she attained the thrill of happiness. She would receive a letter with Sister Margot about her father.

Her father had suffered some medical hardships the previous years and after. Stéphane had been developing the first stages of Alzheimer’s disease back when Vida had been in secondary school. And during that time she watched how he continually denied that anything was wrong. But every time she laid a comforting hand on his her eyes would be swelled with tears.

The moments where he would ponder in long periods were painful to watch and his forgetting of the oddest things—the oddest things being the most worrisome like forgetting how to turn on the car. She felt as though she could do nothing but be forced to sit back and witness him lose every sweet memory. So when the happiness of attending the college of her dreams came it seemed to be good for both of them. They were able to divert themselves with more joyous things.

She unfortunately had no way of returning home when Sister Margot told of her father’s diminishing state of mind was more progressive(money always being scarce had made the scholarship a miracle in disguise and using her power to illegally gain funds was never going to happen...) and was sentenced to keep contact through letters and telephone calls. She was isolated from her family and it was this that led her into the arms of someone supposedly offering comfort and security.

Rawdon St. George was a well off barrister and was Vidaline first love. He had been much older than the young Vida who served as his waitress at a pub. Naïve Vida had been working there to accumulate enough to get home to visit her father, but to her realization with much distain later this soon to be love would distract her from all that she cared about. And that even meant her schooling at RCM which due to his brilliant thinking was probably not wise to continue with things being the way they were. So Vidaline dropped out for the apparent good, she instead focused on getting and obtaining jobs no matter how ill paid. She had to get something together to get her father the best there was no matter how useless it may have seemed to others.

Now Rawdon with his handsome looks and charms broken down her polite resistances, and soon that first meeting by pint glass would have her falling. But the love she felt for him was in no way like the feelings he had for her. He saw her merely as a sexual object, another notch in his bedpost. Thus her current troubles would be his ticket to getting what he wanted from her. While she was willing to do anything for him, she would avoid all and any situations that could lead to one thing and than another.

After he had gained her affections and trust, he slowly tantalized Vidaline about just letting go... And after playing the considerate gentleman for as long as he could, Rawdon finally rid himself of his charade. It would be a late night of deep drinking and his waned self-control when he had Vidaline on her back before she knew what had hit her.

She would not be as willing as he had hoped alcohol and the sweet nothings would have subdued her to. Thus he’d attempt to rape her, but she fought back with all her might. She suffered from the repercussions for her belligerence. A whack to back of the head from a candlestick followed by a swift throw into a mirror would have her staggering onto the floor.

Then finally her ability to control minds had proved itself in her eyes in those moments before he had his way. As the dizziness of a conscious came over her and the blood stemming from the wounds, Vida recollects that her final scream of protest before she blacked out was “STOP!” Somehow this emotionally powerful plea saved her.

Vida would find herself in the hospital the next morning where she would be informed that Rawdon had been the one to take her there and subsequently after confessed that he had assaulted her. While the ignorant others told her that it had been his love for her that stopped him doing further harm to her, she knew that it was the power she purposefully neglected that had stopped him. And as far she as she was concerned, he could stick any kind of love he had up his ass. She’d make sure she’d never see him again and that she would never tell her family what had occurred that night. Vidaline had been left with three scars; two soon to be physical scars and a mental one...

Vida still has nightmares waking up with those healed injuries burning filling her body with numbing fear; a fear that out of the dark he’d appear.

H E R E . A N D . N O W

What’s New Pussycat
Bournemouth would be one of her many places of getting away and for now her permanent residence.

There she would settle finding her artistic sanctuary—the Creative District. In the beginning she would found herself singing her lungs out on its street corners for loose change or getting a low waged gig at any of the clubs this new home offered to its nightlife. It was these and other odd jobs that she would take the payments of and send back home.

It would be one night with the usual offer of miniscule monetary reward where she would be reunited with Sister Margot. Somehow she tracked her down through the ever changing return addresses (Vida could never afford in one place for too long).

The reunion was one filled with heartfelt tears and lingering embraces. Yet the sadness for so long a time apart dissipated, it was filled in its place with great joy despite the bitter unchanging news of her father’s state of health and its descent.

Sister Margot would insist staying with her for a short time and during that time she was able to help Vidaline get a steadier job and that offered more for her. Her stay also in turn revealed the envelope of money to find a decent apartment. Her refusal to take the money was no match for Margot’s skilled persuasion. Back to the job prospect, Margot had discovered for Vida a fairly recognizable nanny agency. But little did either one know that the job Vidaline gained from the agency would take her into a much different profession. Or the dark Margot would be kept in about Vidaline’s current state of affairs presently.

Cassandra Hines was Vidaline first employer. Cassandra’s daughter, Gillian, was an eight old who according to her mother deserved a suitable nanny when in truth what the child needed was a friend. And that she did gain when Vidaline came to work for them.

Cassandra was rarely home and there was no father figure around for little Gillian. Vidaline would be the only one there for Gillian. Cassandra’s work (which remained a mystery until one fateful night) had her full attention beckoning her to come to it whenever ever it called.

Had Vidaline never have had a heart to heart conversation where she would reveal her financial turmoil to Cassandra, maybe she would never have answered Cassandra’s call that inauspicious night. But Vidaline did.

Vidaline would learn that Cassandra ran an escort service and due to her troubles Cassandra believed she was doing her a favor by meeting with her at the hotel, Topaz; it was this hotel that her first client was waiting for her. And the proposal that would help her monetary battles she offered to Vidaline was simple: “Big bucks if you fucks this guy.”

Thus you can imagine that Vidaline was flabbergasted if not insulted that Cassandra would think she would sink low enough to consider such a thing. But to Cassandra’s luck and Vidaline’s misfortune, Sister Margot’s leave had been bitter sweet. She was there for more than making sure Vidaline was well taken care of. She was there to inform her that her father’s medical bills were growing.

Once again her cursed ability came to her rescue once again—now whether this was a good thing at the time she is still uncertain of. The moment she stormed out of the hotel leaving Cassandra huffing hellfire—after Vida told her to go fuck the guy waiting on the third floor herself—temptation had finally won for once. But in her mind it was temptation quenched for a good cause. With a plan in hand, Vida entered the hotel once again and to the shocked expression of Cassandra (which turned smug with victory after she returned) Vida knew she just signed a deal with the devil...

Now whenever the caller ID reads a certain unlisted number, Vida is to report immediately to Cassandra. Vidaline had placed herself under a cruel and shrewd individual who demonstrated a different type of tough love. She would be not quite a friend of Vidaline nor would she be an enemy.

Vidaline’s abuse of her power sparked not only good business for Cassandra but a reputation for herself. Cassandra, seeing how her business was doing having la Sainte Vierge or the Blessed Virgin as she had dubbed Vidaline, became more friendly to what gave her money. Despite the fact that Cassandra does not believe for one second that Vida is a virgin (due to her fame); she does however have suspicions of how lucky Vida is with attracting the right pockets. She also wonders why Vida can be so persuasive sometimes...

You can call me Alex and I'm in the EST time zone. You guys suckered me in with YOUR AWESOMENESS and I guess I'll be sticking around to post whenever I can per week. Tell you something though, more subplots to gather in more willing rp-ers, I guess

fallen A.N.G.E.L.

R P . SA M P L E

Gavin Fox LTBL:
It was going to be the warmest day of the winter this year—or so the weatherman said it would be. Thus if it was said by the weatherman, it would most likely not happen (unless he was lucky or sold his soul to the devil to be infallible). It would most likely turn out to be another teeth chattering day.

Yet as Gavin stood out on the sidewalk just in front of his home, he began to strip bits of clothing off feeling a tab bit warm. Off went the wool scarf dyed bright yellow and slime green in horizontal stripes. Peeled were the somewhat matching striped wool gloves whose colors complimented with their fire engine red and sky blue. He was still kind of stuffy though.

Tugged off was the Peruvian winter knit hat with erratic rainbow colored stitching of zigzags, octagonal circle shapes, and the like. Lastly the puffy parka with its annoying fur lined hood was tossed into the sloppy pile before him on the pavement. Now all that was left was the v-necked dark violet sweater with the gray undershirt peeking out. Followed by the torn light washed jeans rolled up to display to black wellies with white skull and cross bones pattern were held up by the black leather belt with the silver crocodile belt buckle. Shaking his head much like a dog would, Gavin finger combed his hair getting rid of the plastered- to-his-skull look. The sweat he had accumulated in under five minutes of merely standing rather sedentary in the high glare of the sun was unbelievable. Blowing a way a bit of hair dangling in his face, finally he felt cool—not as cool as he would like to be, but then a sudden realization hit him.

Plopping down on to the curb, he yanked off his wellies. His hazel-green eyes glowered at the mismatched polyester socks forcibly pulled up to his knees. These boys were thick as hell and well, they had to go. His bare feet felt the nippy bit of wintry gust go down the street and relished in it. Sitting there on the curb, he just sort of chilled for a minute there. He would catch the wide eyed stares and gaping mouths of those going by on the opposite side of the street or passing car. Some of which he waved at with a feigned grin while others he barked a sharp remark like, “What the fuck you looking at?” Although he would for the majority of them ignore completely, he’d just sit there and at times close his eyes and inhale.

“Bloody prick was right,” Gavin did declare sitting there; his voice still lingered with the accent of an Aussie.

This Aussie however did not miss anything from his old land. England had kind of grown on him after all these years. The time that helped the tumor like growth the most was the time he had spent in Bournemouth as a near captive of his home due to his supposed mental illness. A knot formed then in the pit of his stomach. He hated thinking about the past. He really did.

Shoving his naked feet into his wellies, Gavin stood up and proceeding to gather together the winter clothing he had dumped on the cement. Approaching the front door of his house, he wondered if Cotton would believe he had gone to take his “nap”. Maybe she would buy it seeing as how he had an episode the other day she was there at the house. She had after all been the one to prevent him from biting his own tongue off. Goddamn “gift” though it would be funny to see me choke on my own lunch.

Did he try yet again to tell her what he had seen? No. He’d not been in the mood to make another attempt, but it had been on his mind nonetheless to take another crack at it. And he didn’t think she would like to know he had seen the death of that suicide on last night’s news whose mangled body (if body is the right word for what they really found) was found by the railroad tracks by some kids with bad timing.

Dropping some of the articles of clothing in his arms, Gavin began to force first the smaller and more likely to go through the mail slot bits of his winter attire. The only thing that didn’t fit had been the freaking parka. So as he stood staring at the fur exploding out of the slot, he sighed accepting the fact he had to pull the damn thing out through the other side. He fished his key ring out of his pocket with the lone key on the key ring joined by a few odd key chain decorum. There was the metal miniature of the Hand of Glory, flat bit of metal molded into astrological symbol for the planet Pluto, a fake lime green fur dyed rabbit’s foot, and plastic star (dedicated to Dr. Zener and Rhine of course).

Opening the door which got struck for a minute because of the items lodging themselves beneath it, he got in with good push that nearly had him stumbling. He dealt with the parka which did not survive the extraction from the mail slot as well as he had planned. The fur would be mocking him as it sat in the mouth of the slot. Very tempted to kick the door, Gavin restrained himself when he saw his Hawkeye Brownie staring at him. The vintage camera sat on the old wicker chair turned book shelf by the entry way of the living room.

“How could I have forgotten you?” Gavin queried to the beloved possession as he scooped it up. The makeshift strap which was really an old belt slid on to his shoulder. Used to have the field case for it, but damn thing got dry rotted. Fox locked up and headed on to Meyrick Park. Soon he would find himself relaxing in the old band stand snapping whatever appeared pleasant in his eyes.

This post has been edited by Vidaline la Mothe on Apr 7 2009, 12:04 AM

[lexxibeth]

. C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S .
guess that means they like you

You've made the ranks as a S E ER, love, very well done indeed.
So what're you waiting for? Get to the good stuff already and go toy with those mortal minds!

.. or post your plot page if you're into that kind of thing.