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Name: Dolly Ash
Gender: Female
Sunset Native?: Dolly moved to Sunset City when she was 25, hungering for a chance to make a new start.
Why do you race?: The money!
- Growing up in a trashy trailer park right outside of Jacksonville, Dolly has always believed there were greater things for her out there. From pageants to plays, if Dolly could get herself in front of a spotlight, she was going to do it. For a moment in her late teens, despite her family and despite her past, she seemed on the rise to becoming a pageant queen. Her father ending up in the hospital meant she had to use those winnings to pay his medical bills. From then, she bounced from dead-end waitressing job to the next, longing for the day that she would find her rightful spot back in the limelight. Eventually, she saved up enough money to leave home behind and end up in Sunset City, seeing the street racing crowd as just what she eneded to spring herself onto center stage.
Side Characters: [People in your life. (Note which ones you want to be played by the GM and which you'd like direct control of, if any)]
- Arlene Landry [Dolly's agent. Played by the GM?]
Plot Hooks:
- Dolly's definitely trying to find a stable life for herself, but that seems to directly conflict with her hungering for the (minor) fame she once held.
Other Notes: Nope!
In Fog 21 days ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I'm interested!
I'm down for this!
When she arrived home, Merveille immediately dashed to her home office, making for the paper shredder. Was it the most obvious place to dispose of documents? Yes, and she'd have to find a way to dump its contents somewhere obscure in some time, but it'd do wonders for the whole getting a document that looked like it could've been sent by the Dracula himself thing. Besides, focusing on how exactly to get rid of the letter helped take her mind off of other things. Such as what the letter meant for the present vampire situation in Indianapolis.

While she wouldn't have considered herself a savant by any means, keeping abreast of the local politics in the area, for both mortal and vampire alike seemed like a reasonable thing to do. It had taken an incredible amount of wheedling to get James to tell her anything, and truthfully, she wasn't exactly sure if she could believe all of it considering his...instability. What she had learned, though, of Princes and Primogens and bloodlines, old money intent on keeping it that way, pointed to one conclusion: This Riccard was saying he was in charge now, and that she had best better attend.

That night, Merveille dreamed of things to come. Blood, as always, but in the middle of that pool, a throne.

Pulling up to the building in her sensible 1991 Civic, Merveille took a look at the place and sighed. Charitably, the place could be described as a dumpster. Honestly, it looked like a hellhole. Parts of it reminded her of her childhood, and not in the way childhood was about wonder and warmth. More about having to share a single room with three siblings. The motorcycle lacking wheels and handlebars sitting in one of the parking spots only added to that perception. It also meant someone had arrived earlier than her, which didn't do much to lift Merveille's present frustration. She was planning on arriving here first, and, well, she hadn't arrived first.

There was more important business to attend to, though, so she carefully parked her car, uttered a silent prayer to any higher power (if they did exist) to prevent anything from happening to it, before getting out. As she walked to the doorway, she saw a man with a cigarette in hand, leather jacket and tight jeans and all. If he hadn't been standing in front of the building and hadn't have looked like he'd been there for a while, Merveille would've thought him to be like any other drifter. Instead, he seemed to be one of the others called to the meeting.

"Here for the meeting, I take it?" Merveille curtly asked, before taking up a spot a few feet away from the man. He didn't exactly seem to be in the mood for talking, but it was best to confirm such things.

That's the hunger roll!

And for arrival, I think Merveille would arrive relatively early, perhaps 20-30 minutes early, so she can get the lay of the land.
@flopflop122 Please don't roll unless I ask for it, and I will tell you the outcome of any rolls you make.

She recognizes that the seal means this note is from a ventrue. Clearly, this is him declaring himself as the new prince. He's making a power play by showing he knows what she is and how to find her.

Ah, okay! So sorry about that - I just saw you were asking the others about it, and so I wasn't sure considering the receipt of the letter. Won't do that again!
Here's my roll for Intelligence + Politics:

9, 6, 3 ,2

So, two successes? Merveille recognizes something's amiss.
The offices of Psychics 4 U, were, as perhaps to be expected from a phone psychic agency of dubious legality (although as pointed out in ads, only meant for entertainment purposes), not considered among the nicest buildings in Indianapolis. In fact, it probably ranked as one of the ugliest buildings in Indianapolis, but beneath it's crumbling facade, there was...not love, not exactly joy, or even hope, really, but there were people doing their job.

Merveille was one of those people, currently in hushed whisperings with some man who was frantically asking about whether his wife had been unfaithful. She could already picture the man, balding, beginning to let his body go in pursuit of just one more promotion, as his wife was left alone at home to do what-or-whoever she pleased. So, was he looking for reassurance, either in his wife's faithfulness or in his manic deductions.

"Well," Merveille began, in that patois she'd perfected when playing Tituba so many years ago. "I must first caution you: the answers I provide may not be the ones you want."

Whether it was on stage or over phone, the concept of acting remained the same. You had to build up suspense. Let the audience's mind wander, piece together the puzzle they'd created in their minds, all while the silence hung heavy in the air.

"So," the man asked, his whisper barely able to be heard over the tinny speaker. "What is it?"

At that, she exhaled. Of course he wanted to know. That's why he was calling, of course, but keeping them waiting, kept customers all the more sure that what they were getting were true insights, gleaned from a true clairvoyant. Also, it was a form of stalling, considering money was made per minute, but that was secondary. If you could keep them calling, you could keep them paying.

"The answer is no, your wife has not laid with another."

Merveille could almost chuckle at the mighty release of breath she heard over the line, but with the harm that would do to her whole image, she simply kept her mouth shut until the man on the other end-Anthony? Andrew? fell silent.

"However, you would do much good, my child, to look into your finances."

While it was nice to assuage one fear, one always had to remember there was another lurking around the corner. And really, it wasn't that difficult. Anthony - yes, she was sure of it this time - had already spoken of leaving his wife at home, and while his mind may have wandered to her in bed, the ability to call up whoever she wanted, there was the possibility of her instead eyeing one of his credit cards.

Finally concluding her "session" with a curt goodbye, Merveille put the phone down and sighed. Psychic was a role like any other now, even if the glimpses she saw in her sleep of screams and blood seemed to be getting more and more frequent. Here, at least, she could control what the vision of past or future was, or better yet, leave it obscured enough for others to make of it what they wished. Grabbing her purse after standing up from the chair, she opened the door and was about to leave for home, when she noticed a Post-It note on the opposite side of the office door.

Hey Merveille,
A man came in and delivered an envelope for you. Said it was urgent or whatever, so please pick it up from the reception desk!


P.S. I've already gone home to watch over my grandma. You know where the key is.

Raising her eyebrow at the receptionist's gall, Merveille made her way to the reception, found the key to the desk drawer (underneath the potted plant), and opened it to find an envelope embossed with a wax seal.

This couldn't be good.

With shaking hands, Merveille opened the envelope, and read the letter, eyes poring over the contents. Then, with her face steeled, she put the letter back in the envelope, the envelope in her purse, and got into her car.

As she drove for home, she wondered whether this is what she had been dreaming of.
Hey, people! It's nice to meet you all. I'll be playing Merveille, who's a phone psychic in the vein of Ms. Cleo.
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