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[b]Constance Holloway[/b]
25 | 5’6” | Female [/center]

[ S Y N O P S I S ]

[indent]Constance is an ambitious, self-aggrandizing woman with a questionable lineage and a dubious, newfound wealth. A true master of none (although she prefers the term “polymath”), Constance seems to be motivated by flights of fancy, whims, and impulses that serve her one woman assault against the boredom and mundanity that comes with living a posh life. Foolhardy and stubborn, her latest obsession, like any good member of the nouveau riche, is seemingly centered around leaving behind a legacy.[/indent]

[ A P P E A R A N C E ]

[indent]A slender woman with a thin, angular face, Constance has seemingly grown well-accustomed to holding her sharp chin high and peering down her nose at others. Her eyes are a light brown, like copper, while her long, straight hair is a few shades darker and pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her skin is fair, seemingly untouched by the sun thanks to her assortment of hats and parasols, and a practiced application of makeup effectively hides her many imperfections—the scarred pores on her cheeks and forehead of a childhood of poor hygiene, the crow’s feet and dark circles that line her eyes. She speaks with a measured cadence, like somebody who is reading from a play’s script, and has a voice that demands attention due to the confidence, and volume, that flows with it. Still, no amount of makeup can hide the fact that her nose, broken once in youth, bends with a slight offset, nor can any practiced speeches hide her hideous horse laugh.

While Constance has a wardrobe full of gaudy jewelry and elaborate dresses, she typically dresses these days as if she were an equestrian. Fitted jackets, typically a dark shade of blue with large buttons, are worn over white blouses that are tucked into high waisted pants of neutral browns and tans. It’s uncommon to see her without some sort of sun hat or kerchief. Black riding boots that almost cover her knees give her a few more inches and, coupled with her already wiry limbs and confident posture, makes her appear taller than five foot six. The newest, and almost permanent, addition to her wardrobe is a small lump underneath the left side of her jackets. A strong wind or the right angle would reveal that the lump is semi-automatic pistol resting in a leather shoulder holster. 
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[ P E R S O N A L I T Y ]

[indent]Constance drips confidence. Armed with an almost infectious optimism and a dangerous ambition, she seemingly never shows doubt, fear, or regrets. She actively seeks out new challenges and welcomes sudden crises with a smile and a jolt of energy. She’s a textbook thrillseeker that always seeks out new experiences and follows her gut over the minds and mouths of others. However, she lacks dedication and is quick to move on to the next whim once her current one has shown even the slightest hint of mundanity. This has left her with a bit of a reputation of being unreliable and frivolous, overshadowed only by her reputation of being a person who practically throws away their money.

Constance is warm and friendly to people, although it’s hard to say if it’s a genuine kindness or just the practiced niceties a person must acquire if they wish to survive in high society. Still, she prefers company over being alone, and is mindful enough in conversations to not completely dominate them. She’ll never openly insult an individual, and when she praises something it is always “absolutely fantastic” regardless of the situation. Despite her openness, people sometimes can feel a vibe coming from her like she is looking down upon them or judging them for some reason they can’t quite say. As well, word around town is that the woman is quite conceited and a bit of a know-it-all; it was once hypothesized that she was full of enough hot air that her ego could keep the islands afloat if the obelisk failed. 

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[ H I S T O R Y ]

[indent]There are two stories about Constance Holloway: hers and theirs. Hers is the one that she shouts from the rooftops, and theirs is one that is whispered behind her back at soirees and dinner parties. However, the tales both start at the Bottoms, the nickname for the slums of Edgenook. In her version, Constance would admit that she was luckier than most growing up in the Bottoms. She had parents, although they were good-for-nothing, and most nights she had a roof over her head, although one that leaked and let bugs in. However, like any child living in the Bottoms, she had to work to help feed her family. She could recount the horrors seen in FFS factories where she started working at the age of five, climbing inside the great machinery to remove jams in the gears caused by faulty material and other children, but those stories are not for decent company.

Their version would say that she did, in fact, work for FFS. She also worked as a seamstress, waitress, cook, maid, shoeshiner, and, if the person truly dislikes her, as a streetwalker. She couldn’t hold down a job, they say, because she was so unreliable, or because her parents were drunks and addicts, or because she was one too. She clung to gangs of street urchins like many poor children and animals do to survive, knowing that they are safer in numbers than they are alone, and overturned shops of the middle class to steal money, food, and clothes. Both versions agree that at some point she made enough money to travel to Argos, and at some point she met a man that would change her life for the better.

This man was a wealthy businessman who operated a mining company in both versions, and an elderly, rich, and lonely one at that. In her version, she paints them as merely friends, a companion, somebody to talk to, although she always suggests that about suspected lovers. In their version, she was a harpy, a leech, a gold digger that extorted him through various means. Regardless of which version you choose, the results were the same: the man passed away one day, and in his will his inheritance and his company was left completely to Constance. Considering he had sons who had been training to take over the business, this was quite a scandal—what would soon become the first of many for Constance Holloway.

Even in their version do they agree that Constance made the wise decision in making peace with the snubbed heirs and hiring them on to run the businesses that they should have rightfully inherited, although not before redubbing the company Holloway Heavy Industries. Although Constance would admit that she didn’t have a mind for business, she did have a mind for people. In her version, she sought out talented individuals and proved them with the initial investment to start their business. In their version, she was little more than a loan shark that exploited desperate and poor inventors. Either way, H.H. Industries began hooking its talons into other markets outside of mining, namely electricity, aviation, and the newly booming business of shipbuilding. Constance filled her coffers, quickly picking up on the rules of a society where the rich get richer.

With the sudden rise in affluence and through smart hiring of individuals to do the work for her, Constance was able to,in her words, stop working and start spending. She bought a mansion at Lake Marum. The household was never empty, always full of her friends and people who were trying to win her influence and vice versa. In her version, these people were the next generation of artists, engineers, and philanthropists. In their version, these people were there, and so were counterfeiters, con artists, and anarchists. Yet still, even those that talked down about Constance and her parties were elated when they received an invitation, because to be invented to a Holloway soiree meant that you truly were somebody.

But a life of constant partying, like a life of constant working, had its doldrums. Constance began travelling to combat this boredom, taking up and giving up on new hobbies as she went. Eventually, in her words, she had seen it all—foregoing her failed attempt to scale the Rallamachers. In her version, she had been turned away by her guides before they reached the summit once the elements got the better of their foray (despite her desire to brave the storm and continue). In their version, she had grown tired of climbing and called for a helicopter to escort her down from the mountain. 

At parties she spoke of how their world was too small, and made it known to all that would listen that she planned on travelling to the world below, claiming that she had been consumed by a sense of adventure. They claimed that her fortune was drying up, that she was being abandoned by the board of trustees that ran H.H. Industries, and that she was fleeing to the surface to save herself from the embarrassment once the news struck of her ruin. Some of them even claimed that she owed quite a sum of money to certain criminal organizations  and was running to save her life; why else would she start carrying a gun? 

Whatever version of the life of Constance Holloway one listens to, be it of the lucky socialite or the cutthroat blackmailer, they all end with her on the Garrloch. It’s a new beginning and, in her mind, a chance to be on the cutting edge of the next big thing. The world below is just another investment to her, or perhaps just another thing for her to extort. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter which; all that matters is that it will be hers. 

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[ N O T E S / O T H E R  I N F O ]

[indent]-She claims to be a descendant of the Devil Diver James Holloway, although there have been no records dug up that prove or deny this.

-It is a well-spread rumor that Constance proved she was fit to be dropped aboard the Garrloch by greasing the right palms to beat her rivals to the world below. [/indent]