fledermaus

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{𝑺 𝑨 𝑳 𝑬 𝑴 𝑹 𝑰 𝑽 𝑬 𝑹 𝑨}

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

In truth, Salem had decided homecoming preparations on his part would be lax after getting to know Marisol a bit more. Gwendolyn always had a thing for color-matching, an aesthetic itch from her time in the New York fashion scene. Homecoming junior year Salem was expected to wear this ugly salmon pink tie and uncomfortable shoes to match Gwen’s heart-stopping, drop dead gorgeous dress. He didn’t mind it, wasn’t particularly irritated by it, and enjoyed the happiness it brought Gwen – but it was downright exhausting. He spent hours shopping, having to do multiple fittings, and trying to understand the difference between coral and salmon pink. This time around, though, it is Mari and Mari is rather easygoing. Salem was just going to throw on his favorite casual suit and call it a day.

Until Margherita Rivera came to the residence, two days before D-Day. Probably knowing she had an audience out of him by spotting his 1962 Aston Martin, Margherita flung the doors open in her most dramatic manner. A coat elegantly draped over her shoulders flapped with the force and her blue locks cemented with hairspray budged not even a millimeter.

Her presence brought terrible foreboding and Salem carefully placed his collector’s edition of Tolstoy’s War and Peace, which was frankly giving him a headache, and attempted to flee to his room. Like a woman possessed by otherworldly forces, she descended on him at the foyer with a relaxed perfect posture and her leathery, boot-worthy skin.

“Nipotino,” she had said, clasping her hands in front of her with a creepily serene expression, “will you join me for a quick nibble?”

Without awaiting his answer, she had tucked her arm under his and forcefully steered him towards the dining hall. He was the prisoner to her warden, and when she broached the subject of homecoming between careful bites of her favorite American food (Hamburger Helper, of all things), Salem realized his crime was not running away faster and his punishment two agonizing days.

Two agonizing days it was. His nonna had dragged him designer store to designer store, making him try on ridiculously pricey suits – some of which he argued were too formal for homecoming. Every article of clothing and pair of shoes he tried on were designer made and perfectly tailored to his body, much to Margherita’s delight. Retirement had given her much enjoyment and freedom with her time and money, but only brought stiff resignation and aching feet to Salem.

“What color dress is she wearing?” Gwen’s voice on the phone snapped him back to the present, where he was staring at his blue striped blazer in the full-length bedroom mirror.

“Uh,” Salem’s mind stuttered, preoccupied with picking off a piece of lint and only the resigned amused sigh prompted him to continue, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Her voice wasn’t condescending or disbelieving, just simply confirming and he hummed his agreement to show she had heard right. “Did she not tell you?”

“She’s not like you, Saint Nick. She’s not…” Salem trailed off, taking a breath to select a good word to express his thoughts. This was dangerous waters, and though Gwen would likely not get upset, he still didn’t want to hurt her feelings or make her think he thought bad of her.

Before he could think of anything, she filled in the brief silence with an amused teasing tone, “You mean she’s not a priss like me.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Salem answered immediately, hackles rising and his voice immediately defensive. Gwen made a soft sound in the back of her throat, an irritated warning for him to calm down, and he shook out his right hand to let out any jitters. “I was going to say detail-oriented.”

After fixing his suit and smoothing out any wrinkles, Salem stayed on the phone for a few minutes to talk about recent events in Gwen’s life. Eventually, he had to say his goodbyes and made his way to his expensive classic car. Salem wasn’t much of a car man, but he loved collecting old things and his car was one of them.

The drive was relaxing and the arrival to Mari’s house somewhat awkward. He stood downstairs waiting for her, and when she arrived she arrived like a shooting star. No, honestly, shooting. Marisol slid down the banister, her dress glittering in the artificial light of the house. Salem rushed to her side and his hands automatically lifted to her waist to make sure she was steady on her feet, though his instinct was hardly necessary since she landed rather sure-footed.

It was only with his hands on her hips, towering over her, that he got a good look at her. She honestly was dazzling, in all senses of the word. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, it was all so gorgeous and Salem told her so.

Before taking her arm, Salem reached behind him for the sunflower he had set on the entrance table to give to her.

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.” He said dramatically, with overexaggerated wiggles of his eyebrows. It was only when Marisol’s items were procured, and the sunflower secured in her grip that he guided her hand into the crook of his elbow, cheekily replying, “Ready to go, partner.”

Redwood Apartments [CLOSED]

@rougeLily Hi, my inspiration for this roleplay has died ): Sorry, but I will be dropping out! Hope the roleplay goes well! <3

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

While most of the school were beside themselves with anger and outrage about the way things would be happening on this homecoming dance (including Archer, who had stormed out of the auditorium before she could even talk to him properly), Marisol was just chill. During the course of the last few weeks, she'd been religiously taking her medications and attending therapy, so her anger issues and rollercoaster emotions were taken care of properly now. Had this been done a month ago, Sol would have been the first one up in arms. But today? She simply accepted it. Okay, yeah: not being able to attend homecoming with one of her friends was a really shitty thing. But, hey: the faculty never specified they had to stick to their dates during the night. So if push came to shove and her date was an insufferable person, the option to ditch and be with friends was on the table.

The real question was: who was the mysterious Mr. Rivera?

Ever the determined, impatient and curious one, the short young woman marched straight to the stage, climbed up and turned to face whatever classmates were remaining on the scene.

“YO! Who the hell is this Rivera dude?! Anyone know who the fuck that is?” Marisol shouted across the room in her usual blunt tone of voice, squinting her eyes while looking around the auditorium. “This last name crap is bullshit. I don’t know y’all like that.”

Salem Rivera looked up from where he was doodling penguins on his forearm in Sharpie, hastily pulling his sleeve down. Being rather new, only just Christened as a King’s Academy student three days before, Salem didn’t really care much about this homecoming business. He paid attention enough to realize what had been happening - and wasn’t this quite an unfortunate situation - but never thought his nonexistent profile would cause such a spectacle.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Salem casually walked to the stage and raised his hand leisurely. Salem smiled charmingly, “I’m the ‘Rivera dude.’ And would you happen to be Miss Castillo?”

To say she was surprised was an understatement. In all honesty, Marisol had been expecting the face of one of her pasty-ass, plain Jane classmates of a million years. She had already pictured herself bored out of her mind and bailing on her poor date at the thirty-minute mark, making up some stupid excuse about not feeling well and needing to go home. To find herself paired with a person she’d never seen before, and who had absolutely no idea of who she was or what her past misdeeds were, was a blessing Mari planned to take complete advantage of. Plus, his face wasn’t too bad to look at, even if he did look a little too goody-two-shoes for her tastes - not that it mattered. She wasn’t here for that shit.

“Damn straight. The one and only,” she replied with a nod, extending her fist as a greeting in his direction and never once ceasing her habitual gum-chewing.

Salem’s smile turned more boyish, causing his hazel-brown eyes to glisten like a puppy’s and there was an amused, humoring quirk at the side of his lip. While staring into Castillo’s eyes, Salem leaned forward and bumped his fist against hers, never once looking away.

During his quick assessment, Salem Rivera concluded that his homecoming date was beautiful. She had a natural doll-like quality to her, with her small nose and plump lips in relation to her pointed chin and narrow jaw. The way her beanie pressed her brown hair against her face only emphasized it, and the extraordinary light blue of her eyes. Salem had gotten lucky with the name drawings, that much was for sure.

Honorary fist-bump greetings over with, Salem reached into his back pocket with his broad hand and retrieved his phone. In one smooth motion, Salem unlocked it with his fingerprint on the back sensor and extended the phone out to the girl.

“For the record, it’s Salem Rivera.” He threw an over-exaggerated, purposefully-cheesy wink at her. It was done more playfully than teasingly, a light-hearted jest rather than a mean-spirited joke.

Marisol immediately grimaced at the name. Oof. Poor dude. Whatever parent decided to give him that name must have been high as a cloud when they did. “Shit. I don’t know who the fuck names their kid Salem, but whatever. That’s none of my business,” she said with a shrug, taking his phone, adding her contact information and finishing it off with a sweet selfiefor good measure. Satisfied with the results, Mari handed the phone back to Salem with a closed-lipped smile. “There. Shoot me a text so I can have yours.”

“Of course,” Salem cocked his head to the side as he looked down at the name in his phone, “Marisol. Pretty name.”

The green-eyed girl’s smile widened for a split-second before falling back to her usual nonchalant expression. “Thanks.”

Salem slapped the phone against the palm of his hand and smiled sincerely, looking at her from where his head was still angled towards his phone. The curls of his brown hair swept into his eyes and he blew a puff of air from his lips to blow it away.

Backing away, still facing Marisol and blindly trusting that he wouldn’t run into anybody, Salem offered his parting words. “I guess I’ll see you again. Alla prossima.”

“Wait, where the fuck were you going?”
Marisol asked him with a frown, crossing her arms across her chest. “Aren’t we going to do the whole ‘getting to know each other’ thing, or are you one of those dudes who likes to ‘be mysterious’?” she added, throwing around some air quotes as if to emphasize her words.

Salem stopped moving away, but he didn’t move closer to Marisol either. With nonchalance, he shrugged his shoulders and threw her a grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “No, I’m one of those dudes who likes to eat lunch. You can join me, but I have some stipulations.”

When he mentioned lunch, Marisol was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to facepalm herself. Leave it up to her to start making assumptions about people, be completely wrong and embarrass herself in the process.

“Stipulations, you say?” Mari repeated, a questioning eyebrow raised at the same time the smirk of before made its appearance. What on Earth could this new dude want from her. It couldn’t be a date, because they already had that (“Thanks, King’s Academy”). It couldn’t be sex, because Sol would break nose if he dared to ask. A kiss? Well, that could be negotiable. Anyway… Whatever it was, she was definitely eager to hear it. “Go on. I would love to hear them.”

He bashfully scuffed his shoe against the floor, looking up at her with a small shy smile. Looking at her and the curiosity in her eyes, the confidence came back to Salem and he straightened his shoulders. “You’ll have to show me where room 213 is. I was almost late to the assembly, I got so lost.” Salem gave a disbelieving laugh, ruffling the back of his head as he turned his head and observed the auditorium they were in. “My last school was a lot smaller.”

“That’s it?” she asked. Well, that was a lot more boring than she expected. Marisol was sure her disappointment was evident all over her face, and judging by the young man’s reaction she’d been slow on hiding it.

Salem scoffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his amusement at the thought that he would ask for something even mildly inappropriate. To Salem, that shit was earned and he wasn’t going to go perving on a girl asking for favors when he could be given them without askance due to good behavior. “Was there something else you expected me to say? ‘Buy me lunch?’ Maybe to serenade me? Recite Shakespeare for me?” Salem quirked his lips in hopes she wouldn’t take his teasing tone as him being harsh when he was just playing around.

Now it was Marisol’s turn to scoff, giving Salem the first genuine smile since the start of their conversation. Easy on the eyes and with sarcastic humor? This new guy was certainly earning himself a spot in the very limited list of people from Palms she could care about. “You fucking wish,” she replied with sass, blowing up and popping a minty-fresh gum bubble.

He ruffled the top of his head to get the curls out of his face once more and glanced around the place, seeing that everyone had started moving out. Giving an exaggerated bow and offering his arm out, Salem said, “Well, my leading lady, shall we go get lunch?”

Marisol turned to look in the direction of the door, and found herself staring as Sonny and Nadia were getting into some amicable conversation, even leaving the assembly together. Although there was always the familiar stinging feeling in her chest, the time spent in therapy had helped the young woman come to terms with the fact that it was in everyone's best interests to not pursue any sort of romantic relationship with her best friend. When she had openly confessed her feelings towards him back at the preserve, Sonny had merely brushed them off as ‘the meds talking’ and continue to act as if nothing had happened. This had been the sign Sol needed to fully convince herself that her number one priority should be her recovery and loving herself. And loving herself meant letting go of things that set her back. As long as he was happy, she would be happy for him. That's what best friends were for.

Turning back to Salem after taking in a deep breath, Mari linked her arm with his and shot him a small smile. “Hell yes. I'm fucking starving. Let's go.”

Redwood Apartments [CLOSED]

yo yo, im too lazy to pm every person and have to come up with a relationship, cause frankly niko has been there for like 3 weeks and hes not gonna know everybody. But if you wanna figure out and talk relationships, like this post and i'll pm you (:

Redwood Apartments [CLOSED]

-dropped-

Redwood Apartments [CLOSED]

Nikolai Tchaikovsky

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{𝑨 𝑷 𝑷 𝑬 𝑨 𝑹 𝑨 𝑵 𝑪 𝑬}

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Niko has, what you would call, a baby face. No matter how his weight fluctuates, those cheeks of his are still full and his rounded jaw just adds to the illusion. Many would expect Niko – a guy who commonly brags about his toughness – to despise his baby face. He quite likes it, though. With a pearly, lopsided smile that displays his largish teeth and the way his eyes crinkle around his baby-like puffy eye bags – why, Niko thinks he looks boyishly charming!

For the most part, Niko takes after his mom and her old-fashioned American looks. His small freckled nose and the tannish-pink of his skin comes from his mother’s California-raised genes. The general softness of his features and boyish appearance noticeably marks him as Monica-Leigh Becker’s son. While he takes after his mom in almost every visual aspect, he does have a few specks of his Hungarian-Russian father in him. The light green of his eyes, the beauty marks dotting his body, and the, albeit slightly greasy, black hair. He also inherited a crookedness from his dad – his smile is a little bit off-kilter, one side of his nose is slightly fuller than the other, and the bow of his lips uneven.

Niko thinks himself awfully dashing, but every person has their flaws. For instance, Niko is regrettably familiar to the pain of eyebrow waxing – ever since he hit puberty, he had to get his eyebrows waxed lest his unibrow grows in. Like his eyebrows, his hair is annoyingly unruly and without the use of gel, Niko looks like a goddamn cockatoo. As a child, before he was blessed by modern orthodontia, Niko had a bad overbite and buckteeth. It took several years of braces and extreme attention to oral hygiene for his classmates to stop calling him “Niko Beako” (in hindsight, it wasn’t the cleverest nickname). Though his teeth are fixed and his eyebrows maintained, Niko can’t hide the way his eyes sometimes lose their puffiness and look more akin to the sunken eyes of a druggie or his weird earlobes that he is oh so insecure about.

Style-wise, Niko takes his inspiration from old school greasers – mostly because he likes to be consistent in style and his usually gelled black hair doesn’t go well with the soft cotton of hoodies. And the clothes are cheap. Skinny jeans, usually ragged and falling apart – in which they were not bought that way – and baggy plain t-shirts underneath his most expensive article of clothing in his wardrobe. Yes, it’s a leather jacket. For the winter, when it gets too cold, Niko usually throws on his paternal great-grandad’s worn wool coat.

Niko has no tattoos or piercings – growing up with money barely to spare, he found such things as a waste of money.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{𝑷 𝑬 𝑹 𝑺 𝑶 𝑵 𝑨 𝑳 𝑰 𝑻 𝒀}

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{|| 🇲🇮🇸🇨🇭🇮🇪🇻🇴🇺🇸 || 🇸🇵🇮🇹🇪🇫🇺🇱 || 🇵🇪🇸🇸🇮🇲🇮🇸🇹🇮🇨 || 🇱🇦🇨🇰 🇴🇫 🇮🇳🇹🇪🇬🇷🇮🇹🇾 || 🇹🇪🇳🇦🇨🇮🇴🇺🇸 || 🇷🇪🇸🇹🇱🇪🇸🇸 || 🇱🇴🇾🇦🇱 || 🇷🇪🇱🇮🇦🇧🇱🇪 ||}

Niko hadn’t always been mischievous – he had been a bit of a crybaby and entirely too transparent as a kid with no interest in trouble. After his mom died and he plunged into poverty, Niko began to dabble in the mischief arts. It started with a malicious prank, to get back at this punk who coined the unwitty nickname “Niko Beako.” When it got him a good reaction, Niko did it more and more. Sometimes it was innocent fun, but Niko equally dealt his tricks out for spiteful reasons. He found that tricking and fooling people, catching them off-guard, was a lot more satisfying than a round of fisticuffs with his bullies. Though, that doesn’t mean he shied away from fighting – he lost more often than he won, unfortunately.

At one point, Niko might have been an optimistic little tyke. He doesn’t remember it being that idealistic, though. For a very long time, Niko has only seen things in blue – he was a pessimist, through and through. His pessimism wasn’t born from some traumatic experience or hatred of mankind. Niko just happened to have a couple bad events happen one after the other, and now when something good or happy occurs, he’s instantly on guard for the other shoe to drop. It’s easier thinking the worst of a situation than being disappointed from dashed hopes, in his opinion. It’s very much this pessimism that led to his lack of integrity. Not to say that Niko is especially dishonest or deceitful, rather Niko tends to go for what he wants even if its through unfair means. Niko’s tenacious like that. After spending most of his life with almost nothing, Niko persistently goes after what he wants.

Niko might not be the most pleasant person to get on the bad side of, but he makes a mighty loyal friend. Niko puts friendship and family before everything else, even ethics and morals. He will be there for a friend through a breakup or a murder. It’s a good trait to have if it’s the former, quite a toxic trait for the latter. Niko might not seem like it, but he’s a reliable friend to have. He may be restless, easily distracted, mischievous and brash; but he can always be counted on.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{𝑰 𝑫 𝑰 𝑶 𝑺 𝒀 𝑵 𝑪 𝑹 𝑨 𝑺 𝑰 𝑬 𝑺}

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{|| 🇭🇦🇧🇮🇹🇸 ||}

Niko would like to believe he has rather bearable habits, nothing too obnoxious. Yeah, he tends to fiddle with cards in his hands idly; but that doesn’t usually warrant a reaction from other people unless they get annoyed with fidgeting. Maybe he also zones out or gets sidetracked often, and he does have a problem with interrupting when that happens – well, that might be a little annoying, but Niko certainly doesn’t know that.

Niko also doesn’t really realize he has an unhealthy borderline obsessive-compulsive oral hygiene fixation. Don’t assume wrong and think Niko has OCD – it is only in regards to oral hygiene that he has such a strong compulsion towards, and not nearly to the degree someone diagnosed with OCD does. Because of the mocking he endured for his teeth, Niko is overly concerned about keeping his teeth sparkling and healthy lest they get crooked or weak. This shows up in many ways: brushing his teeth after he eats or drinks anything that’s not water or milk, carries his toothbrush and toothpaste with him everywhere, never forgets to floss, and being a slow eater. An extremely slow eater. He has to chew his food to a mush so less food gets stuck between his teeth. It can be a bit annoying to others – friends often have to wait for him to finish his food, sometimes leading to them missing the start of a movie or other planned event.

However, the most annoying habit of Niko’s, is that he drinks all the milk. And he won’t buy more after.

Word of advice: Don’t pour a bowl of cereal until you’ve checked the fridge.

^{|| 🇭🇴🇧🇧🇮🇪🇸 ||}

His favorite thing to do is practice magic – the idea of pulling clever tricks for the sake of pulling clever tricks appeals strongly to Niko. His focus is on card tricks, he finds those to be the worst tricks to fool others and he’s determined to make everyone a sucker. Tricks, pranks, and riddles all pertain to his hobbies in one way or another; be it solving riddles, totally destroying escape rooms, or purposefully irritating the current object of his pettiness.

He also enjoys adult coloring books.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{𝑩 𝑨 𝑪 𝑲 𝑮 𝑹 𝑶 𝑼 𝑵 𝑫}

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Niko’s earliest memory is of his mother, telling him of the “romantic” moment she first saw his dad. His mother, Monica-Leigh Becker, had been enlisted in the army for two years when she was stationed at Incirlik Air Base, Turkey in 1994. One night, her and her friends went to a bar in Adana. As if it was fate, a handsome Hungarian-Russian tourist, Emil Tchaikovsky, stumbled into the bar and right into Monica-Leigh. Niko specifically remembers his mother telling him it was love at first sight – quite odd considering his mom dumped her drink on him after his dumbass made a rude comment. Niko doesn’t really think the tale is that romantic, nor particularly special in any way. Whether it was love at first sight or not, they got married three months later.

With a brand-new green card and a wife on his arm, the Russian immigrated to the US when she got her new orders. Together, they began a life – often moving for his mom’s work. Moving every two years, it was hard for Emil to start a steady career. He worked in stores and fast food places until the Tchaikovsky family gained a new addition: Nikolai Emilevich Tchaikovsky. After Nikolai was born, Emil stopped working to become a full-time stay-at-home dad.

Niko doesn’t remember much of his childhood except for his dad being around and his mom not. As a toddler, his mother was often overworked and couldn’t spend much time with the family – and when he was five, she was deployed to Afghanistan for a year. Supposedly when they were at the airport and saying their goodbyes to her, Nikolai threw a tantrum because he was so tired from getting up early to catch the flight. Niko doesn’t remember it, but there’s photographic evidence of his crying face stuffed into the uniformed shoulder of his mom. She died a year later, a Humvee convoy gone wrong.

Going from a steady income to the bare minimum from the Survivor Benefit Plan, the remaining Tchaikovsky’s moved from their cozy Washington home to a trailer park in Mad River, California. Mad River was Monica-Leigh’s humble hometown where her parents still resided. Nikolai and his father tried to bond with the estranged relatives, but they didn’t quite approve of Emil and Nikolai wanted little to do with people who shunned his dad.

As it was, they grew up poor. His dad never built up credit since his wife handled the finances and there was a steep learning curve for surviving without her. Growing up after that, Niko was used to the whispers – “trailer trash” they called him behind his back, the especially ballsy ones called that to his face. Nikolai got into a lot of school fights, had disciplinary problems because he just couldn’t sit still, and was disliked by the majority of his class due to his “class clown” status.

After high school, Nikolai couldn’t afford to go to college – he wasn’t smart enough for a scholarship and his dad needed him at home to help scrape by. He worked as a waiter at Olive Garden to have something akin to “stable income,” but his favorite way of getting money was travelling to big cities and doing street magic. It was mostly card tricks he learned in his small room since he had nothing better to do with his time.

A year ago, Niko’s paternal grandpa died in Russia and sent Emil all his money. His grandpa wasn’t rich, and it wasn’t enough money for Emil to retire. It was enough for Niko to travel, though, and know that his father was stable without his support. Niko quit his job and decided to travel to Louisiana to visit his birthplace. He couldn’t afford to buy a place in Hammond, where he was born, and instead moved into the cheaper Redwood Apartments. As of right now, having been in Silvervale for only three weeks, Niko is still unemployed.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

^{𝑪 𝑶 𝑴 𝑷 𝑨 𝑵 𝑰 𝑶 𝑵 𝑺}

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

TBA.

Redwood Apartments [CLOSED]

@rougeLily you need to go to the server, click the down arrow next to the server's name in the left corner and select invite people. There should be a link there which you copy and paste

Redwood Apartments [CLOSED]

Hope this isn't full as I'm writing up a character right now, after i finish up my bio lmao

boy howdy

Boy howdy!!!

I'm voltaic~ I'm not new to the site, but I decided I wanted to start over and such. Uhhhhhh, I kinda roleplay all sorts of things though lately I've been in a fantasy mood. I plan on starting a huge fantasy roleplay at some point, after everything's done with it im kinda a detail-oriented control freak in that regards. Mmm, what else is there to say?

Either way, I'm looking forward to getting back into the swing of things (: