cerozer0

La Vie Bohème

No probs, Sonder. Good luck on your finals!

Meanwhile, I'll wait for Dragonbud's characters and (if they're accepted) post before writing again.

La Vie Bohème

Eh, why not? Let's see what you can dish out. (: Roleplay is now closed for new players, though if you guys get any ideas for more characters then by all means make away

La Vie Bohème

Nah no need, it's fine if you reveal it over time. I'm just kinda picky when it comes to mental illnesses, don't want them being represented in the wrong light after all.

La Vie Bohème

Shiloh is looking good, though I'm expecting a super good reason for his PTSD. Accepted~ Everyone is free to post when they please (:

Also, for inspiration sake, have the entire RENT soundtrack. It flows nicely, I hope you guys enjoy it

La Vie Bohème

December 1st. Three P.M., Eastern Standard Time.

Clouds swirled above the concrete jungle's canopy, bringing the chill of winter and the threat of snow. Below, the ants scattered the streets, wrapped up tightly in scarves and jackets and hats and gloves, breathing out clouds of mist as they sighed at nothing in particular or laughed with their friends. The asphalt was chilled, gleaming in the sunless light as the boots that trotted over each pothole attempted to stay steady on the somewhat icy patches that coated the road. In the streets, hulking beasts honked and groaned, still as death as their colors, dulled by salt and exhaust, reflected off storefront windows and coated Alphabet City in faded reds and grays and blues.

Garbage bags and homeless gathered against buildings and alleyways. Dirty blankets and patched clothing covered the begging folks, and as they shivered through their clothing, they held out cans and boxes and signs and all seemed to groan in a similar way. They were indeed pitiful, but most who walked by ignored them. There were better places to be than this East Village in Manhattan, far beyond the garbage-filled streets, and they could not be held up by the beggers that clutched at their ankles and cried for mercy.

Then there was music. Street performers, banging against pickle tubs and strumming old looking guitars as crowds gathered and dispersed with each song. On one of the many street corners, just at the cross section of East 11th and Avenue B, were two performers. A girl with massive hair and a heavily painted face, and a boy with a rather thick, patchy parka. Kaya and Kimbal, regulars at that particular street corner. Her eyes were shut lightly, mouth half open as her hands repeatedly hit the tub between her legs. A catchy rhythm was born from her erratic hand movements, though it didn't seem to be the main focus of the performance. Instead, Kimbal seemed to be the main focus. He was speaking, familiar words, one of the monologues of a popular play that was currently dominating Broadway, and with each tap of the drum he would move, dancing slowly to the words that he uttered and the beat Kaya conjured. It was a show, a very odd show, but beautiful as well. Dollars and coins had piled up over the time frame of a few hours. When they both turned to look at the clock, it had just ticked to three-ten. Kimbal turned back to Kaya, a goofy grin dominating his face as he watched her still the tub and reach for the money filled can.

"Got enough for lunch?" He questioned, moving closer and dropping down to peer over her shoulder. Slender, shivering fingers flicked through the contents, pushing away random business cards while at the same time gathering what ever cash had been rewarded. Eventually, the total came up to ten dollars and fourteen cents. Kaya turned to smile lightly at Kimbal, gathering the cash in one fist while she chucked the can and whatever was in it away.

"Should do, I'll be working a bit there today too, in case we're a little under. Hopefully the tips will be generous." She shoved the money into her jacket pocket, forcing the broken zipper closed and standing. Kimbal nodded once, straightening as well and offering his arm to the taller, thinner woman. She took it graciously, leaning against him as a gust of wind threatened to blow her frail self away, and then they were walking, both set on one destination. The Life cafe, the place where they spent most of their mornings, afternoons, and nights. At the far corner of Avenue B and East 10th street sat the tiny establishment, a mere corner diner surrounded by industrial buildings and homeless. Only one window was visible from the outside, allowing passing folks to peer in at the colorful, yet somewhat dirty crowds that flocked to the cheap food and light atmosphere. A single stage was sat in the corner, and atop the stage was an old piano and a microphone and stool. The two friends watched as their destination grew with each step, talking about nothing in particular just to pass time and watch their breath swirl above them.

The two often stayed close, almost like lovers, though they were anything but. Kimbal definitely considered Kaya to be his sister, as the dating thing didn't really seem to work out for them, and as a good big brother did, he protected her. Glared at the cat-callers, sneered at the potential gropers, anything to keep other men away from her. If only she was as cautious as he was around men, instead she would smile at them and bat her eyelashes, acting cute for something return (and that something was, of course, money). Hard to take a dancer out of her club, it seems.

"It's so cold!" She suddenly exclaimed, scaring the thoughtful man, "it's gonna be a cold Christmas, that sucks. I don't wanna start setting fires again. Hate fire..."

"Too bad, kitten, only way were gonna stay warm is fire and an overabundance of blankets." He sighed, reaching forward to pull open the door of the cafe as Kaya let out a loud moan of distress. Fires, always fires. No such thing as a heater when they lived. The warmth of the diner and smell of food quickly overwhelmed the two, silencing their previous conversation, and the host nodded and forced a smile upon the two, obviously not a fan of the duo. He wrote a quick note into his pad, then nodded towards the few empty tables that were gathered around the center of the cafe.

"Table for two just over yonder, and be sure to keep it down. Don't want you bothering the other guests-"

"Thank ya, Jimmy! I'll be playing today though, and more people might show up, so expect some table moving." Kaya smiled, blowing a kiss to the vaguely annoyed worker before stripping off her ratty, black coat and bounding towards the stage. Kimbal gave an apologetic look to Jimmy before wandering over to one of the empty tables, flagging down a waitress to ask for a few menus as Kaya prepared herself on the stage. She had allowed her coat to gather behind the piano seat in a messy heap, and as her heeled feet once again got used to the brass peddles she tried to recount some nice, cheery songs. A not so cheery song, however, claimed her senses. She hadn't played the lovely Musetta's Waltz for awhile. That could be nice. She stretched her arms, nonchalantly kicking forward the tip can she had started storing near the piano, and then lowered herself down to play.

The keys were worn, and loose, and the strings were somewhat the same, giving the song a hollow, disconnected sound, but it was okay. Kaya still got into the musical, swaying and humming as if she were sitting a top on concert stage. But what what famous pianist used a ratty sweater to hide the needle marks, what famous pianist wasted money on all that junk. Music always made her feel somber, always made her regret everything.

Bang

'Wrong note'

Kaya felt her eye brow raise in a grimace, glancing at the fleeting afternoon crowd before continuing onto another song, and once again her face became stone-like in concentration. There were no tips yet. Meanwhile, Kimbal was busy ordering for both of them, two black coffees, grilled cheese and tomato soup combo, and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Kaya didn't eat much, anything other than soup or noodles would make her a sick, but they were working on fixing that. They were working on fixing a lot of things within their lives. He passed on the menu again, leaning forward on the table as Kaya's music filled the once quiet room as the booth just two tables away was in a hushed conversation about Christmas.

'Ah, right, it's December... Wonder what we should do for the holidays...'

La Vie Bohème

Girl-to-guy ratio does not matter. Alex living in the same building as the other two is perfectly fine, they'll probably be acquainted or closer friends if you'd like that.

Anyway, I'm working on the opening post now. Somewhat distracted so it may not be very good but w/e

La Vie Bohème

Both look good, accepted. I'll add them to the first post whenever I get home.

And for now: relationship chart.

Group:
Kaya
Kimbal
Liz (?)

New:
Joseph

Need to know where Missi and Alex stand soon, Haggis and Beebee. Also need to know if you two are making any other characters. 0;

La Vie Bohème

Of course, if any of you are having IRL troubles just let me know and we'll work something out for your characters while you're away. Also, please realize I have rehearsal nearly everyday until the end of February so I may not be able to post as often as I like myself.

Also also; we should start discussing character relations. So: who wants to be an initial part of the group and who wants to be a new be? If you are in the group than what would you like your relationship to be with the other members ect. Ect.

La Vie Bohème

I expect this to be rather slow paced, perhaps one or two IC posts would be good for now (as the bare minimum at least). To make sure you're all still around, though, id like it if you kept the OOC just as lively with two to three posts a week. I hope everyone is okay with that (:

And as for the first IC post, I'll start working on that once you finish up your character, Sonder.

Anyways, good morning, I just woke up and am in a rather fantastic mood. How's everyone doing?

Liriia's Characters

For: The Battle for New York


The first word that may come to your head at the sight of Mimi might always be "gorgeous". A woman who knows she's attractive, Mimi flaunts her body in anyway she can to get attention and cash, be it stripping, dirty jobs, or even impromptu schemes. She has a very angular face, with a small nose, large lips, and normally winged eyes that glow with mischief and ego. Her hair is dark and contrasts her white skin nicely, curling around her face in a way that shows off its angles and shadows. Normally dresses in the fashion of the times, though she loves to flaunt off her more expensive outfits whenever she can.

Name:
Mimi Keller
Age:
26

Relation to Godfather:
None?
Role in family:
Hired hand for any family/passive-aggressive assassin (up for grabs by any family)

Bio:
The daughter of a poor, Manhattan based single mother and an unknown, probably dead father, Mimi grew up basically on the streets, fighting against the slime that surrounded her industrial, dirty apartment. School was nearly out of the question, if not for her mother's stash of American literature books and the public library's lack of security. Mimi basically taught herself how to survive, taught herself money and occupations and anything else that could help a poor, New York squatter take her life out of the gutter.

By the age of sixteen she was working odd jobs to support herself, waitress-ing, delivering, doing anything to raise money to buy her own apartment somewhere nice. By the age of eighteen she was doing her first job for a Mafia member, delivering a sealed package to an odd location, behind a sleazy-looking diner. The pay was good, and she was inspired to continue doing work for good cash, trying to attract the attention of Mafia folk by turning to her looks. She taught herself the art of being a lady, changing nearly everything about her ratty self until she finally bloomed into the female fatale you see today.

Now, Mimi works countless jobs for a pricey fee, and she has a rather passive occupation of being a dancer at a Mafia run club. Over the years, she has gained much information on her employers, though she wouldn't let the secrets leave her lips unless something greener as involved.

Personality:
Sharp, mischievous, egotistical, and a skilled liar, Mimi is armed and dangerous with shocking glares and harsh insults that may leave one wondering how such a pretty mouth could say such rude things. Her main interest in life, other than looking good, is money. Mimi would do anything for money, it's basically her reason for living, and if her employer has her work without pay then she will not show much mercy by the end of it. Mimi is quite the sneak, often taking time to observe and understand her situation before completing a job, and she can often be found taking notes on missions, as if she is saving something they are saying for later.

Snarky, Mimi isn't exactly a fan of people unless they're paying her, and as such she can be rather cynical and mean-spirited when not acting out her role as the sweet, naive femme fatale she has conjured up over the years. Though, around new folks and possible targets, she is as innocent as can be, batting her lashes and giggling like a school girl. She is a natural negotiator and actress, and though she is rather weak physically, she is somewhat skilled with a gun and should not be taken lightly.

When not out on the streets and around friends she can be much kinder, maybe even caring to her closer mates. Motherly by nature, she has a slight weakness to children and small animals, and will often to anything in her nature to protect someone innocent in need. Though her ego can get in the way of her feelings for others, she does mean well for those she likes, even if they don't think so.

Relationship?:
Other:
- Mimi often says that she left her mother behind after she started her dirty work, but that is simply untrue. She often sends her mom half of her pay, and may visit her during a lackluster work week. Her mother my be one of her major weak points.
- She normally walks the streets with an ornate, silver pistol holstered on her thigh. Where she got the weapon is unknown, though it could very easily have been pay for a job.