Hello everyone! I’m Nat and of course I very am late to the intro party (it’s my thing and I apologize in advance). So excited to throw Maddie at all of you, I am suuuper down for anything and everything and all the plots and things! Please feel free to message me on here or discord or literally anywhere and sorry for the long mess below!
( BASICS )
Name: Madeline Hernandez
Skeleton: The Devotee
Age: Thirty-eight
Gender: Female
Birthplace: Miami, Florida
Occupation: History Teacher
( QUICK FACTS )
Moved to Plea at the age of thirteen, as a result of her parent’s divorce. Her mother was born and raised in Plea.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take her long to get used to the small town. Rather, Madeline was in awe of everything it had to offer. She quickly became well immersed in the town’s history and culture.
It took a few years to no longer be seen an outsider in school, she made sure to blend in with natives as well as possible.
Her passion for learning as well as teaching led her back to the school she once attended, this time as a teacher. Although student’s don’t find history as exciting as Madeline does, she never lets her smile falter during lessons.
Like all dull love stories, she met a nice boy and eventually they got married. Their first son came shortly after and years passed before her marriage became as lifeless as she sometimes felt.
( DETAILS )
It wasn’t your choice to leave the place you learned to call home, in fact, if the decision had been up to you leaving would not have been an option. There was nothing you could do at thirteen, your parents became tired of endlessly shouting at each other during dinner and soon enough divorce papers were being signed. You can remember mom crying for weeks, not because her husband had abandoned her for a twenty-year old blonde but because she was forced to move back to her parent’s home. In that moment, she regretted leaving college and not making a career of her home, not having independence and a job of her own. There was no choice but to go back to the town she had fled from years ago.
Plea, Iowa felt like being in a dream to you, something completely different from the large buildings in Downtown Miami. There were farms and animals and you couldn’t have been more excited. Sure, you cried once or twice about not being able to see your father as frequently any more and your mother, well she was devastated. It was difficult to hide your excitement about your new home, forgetting all about the fact that only a few weeks ago you were yelling about not wanting to move. Plea was charming and enticing all at once, like the endless old time movies you enjoyed binging often. You were quick to learn about the town’s dark history and traditions; finding them all riveting and yearning for more as time passed. Your room became a sanctuary, filled with books and old newspapers over the years. The history of Plea quickly becoming your own, sometimes you wished you were born here, there is always a small part that feels like an outsider especially when the other kids don’t let you forget it.
The years passed and your passion for the small town that gave you so much poured into your work. You take your job seriously and even though your students can hardly keep themselves awake most days. None of it discourages you though and if ever things get close to home, you find the perfect escape in one of the many books in your collection.
You’ve built a simple life, some would say, for you it is enough. Did the whole marriage thing, at first things were bright and shiny — then you had a son and everything in your life felt complete. The last thing you wanted was to follow the same path as your parents, you avoided it for so long, the fights and the late nights. Some days are more difficult than others, family dinners are sometimes forgotten but you’re tired of trying and fighting, still you continue to do so. For your son.
( HEADCANONS )
You know every inch of Plea like the back of your hand, you have visited all the spots and over the years every corner of the small town has become etched in your memory. Except the cornfield, it’s not that you buy into the tales written in old books — but something about it terrifies you. You wish you weren’t so afraid so you could get closer and see for yourself what everyone always whispers about.
Since moving to Plea at thirteen you learned to follow traditions, your mother didn’t believe in them very much, but your grandparents walked with you hand in hand as you made your offering. You remember the year you put in your mother’s pearl necklace very vividly. She didn’t let you touch any of your books for weeks.
Over the years you and your mother grew apart, her controlling nature and disregard for what you wanted made you push her away as you became older. Sometimes you wish it wasn’t like this, you wish you could crawl into her arms and tell her how you often pretend to fall asleep on the couch just so you don’t have to share a bed with your husband. She won’t listen though, so you never bother to call.
