I'm a superstar // Give a fuck who you are // Kill for the cameras and lights // Can you see it in my eyes? // Don't these motherfuckers know I'm crazy!?
Name: Amelia Theodora Ward
Nicknames: Amy, Ames, though most everyone calls her Mimi- a nickname coined for her late night show.
Age: 35, DOB: 7/14/1989
FC: Kat Dennings
Gender/Sexuality: Cis Woman [She/Her], Bisexual
Occupation: Late Night Host for GVLN Channel 9.
Residency: A small home in town she shares with her twin brother, Tilt Ward.
Positive Traits: Comedic, Capable, Family-Driven
Negative Traits: Untrusting, Sarcastic, Gossip
Relationship Status: Single [Open]
Skeleton: OC
Aesthetic: The bad twin was always her brother so she could get away with murder. Leather and red-painted lips, the purr of a bike beneath her, the road is her closest friend, and unlike the black sheep she respected it. But at least he was a sheep- she’s a wolf, wicked toothed and hungry underneath fleece, a hyena waiting for the right kind of scraps looking after her cackle- a will to do anything to protect what’s hers. She failed once. Never, ever again.
HISTORY
A boston transplant in her early days, Amelia Ward was always the more cunning of the Ward twins, the one with the plan to put her brother’s might to work. They saw their first body at eight- they learned about murder at eleven- Sometimes she misses hushed discussions of who in town might be a killer hiding among them with her brother- She misses the other things about him far, far less.
Her family was loyal to a biker gang, and until Tilt’s accident, Mimi was a popular fixture at the local clubhouses, both of her own crew, and others. She was never involved in more than a little drug use and drinking, and knows nothing about her brother’s deal for amnesty in the face of a bust that spared her losing her beloved job at the local news station as a late night host.
She’s been the overnight host of the local news station since her early twenties, and is well liked for it, a sardonic, witty type capable of a clean, charming delivery with a sense of humor in most things, she fell into the role well, though she does have a tendency to gossip about things in a way that’s a little… disrespectful without thinking it through.
After the death of their father, and Tilt’s accident soon after, Mimi hung up her loftier goals of eventually leaving Greenview to look after Tilt, and when the prognosis declared he was likely to never be able to live alone again, she swallowed their lingering differences, and the two of them moved into a small home in town- it beat the trailer park they grew up in, and separate apartments, when there was always the risk of Tilt having an episode.
Her familial loyalty is unwavering, and in the face of murders happening around town, she’ll sooner sell anyone else up the river to save her and Tilt’s hides- though she maintains her own research, and a conspiracy style pinboard about the incident years ago- but she insists ‘true crime is in’ these days.
She's the only Ward who still has ties to the gang that quickly fell apart after the bust following Tilt's accident, though her colors and her motorcycle both have the patch for The Carnivale resolutely crossed out or covered over- she's just not in the market for giving up on good leather or a perfectly functional easy rider.
Far more skeptical and untrusting of others than her brother, Mimi tends to subject most everyone Tilt brings home to a substantial amount of scrutiny, up to and including background checks, if she can get away with it- this habit has not lightened, in the days following an actual, legitimate murder.
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"No. I'm fucking telling you, if we do it that way you're just begging it to come down with the next thunderstorm, much less a quake. Dig deeper, sink the post, it'll be shorter but we're working with shit all anyway." He rolls his eyes, as the other construction crew moves on to another project. "Fine. I'll dig the damn hole myself, fuckin' prick." He sets to doing just that, stomping the shovel head into the earth. "Shouldn't even have to do this shit..." He mutters- he doesn't seem to notice the other party for a long moment, placing a cigarette between his lips. "What. What do you fucking want?" He snaps. "Don't gawk at me like it's some performance, half these fucking idiots are gonna get us into another death-trap without help, I don't want to die."
There's something more to this, doing the work himself, dressed in simple cotton tee under a sheepskin denim jacket isn't... Mercy, after all. "You have anything important to say or are you just here to stare at me? Because I'm clearly busy- which you could be! Become a productive member of society. Or what-the-fuck-ever."
"Yes, you've made it clear that you're very upset about the news from sunday, but I fail to see how that's my responsibility, you old coot. You made the deal before they died, so you can either trade me what we agreed on, or I'm gonna leave your husband on that little shelf up there, and if I get bored, maybe I'll snort a line of him." Mercy deadpans, one brow arched high. "Crying doesn't work on me, it never has. So I don't know how you think this is gonna go, that family getting torn to ribbons by ghouls in a foul-play incident didn't accidentally trade off your husband's urn for supplies. Now you can get me the ration cards you owe me, or you can-" He snorts a laugh, as the woman lets out a short distraught sound and runs out of the shop- the bell over the door chiming once again as he lights up a cigarette, fire catching on black paper.
"Welcome to Auntie Em's, I'm Mercy, your most loved proprietor, can I interest you in this dead asshole, or a bunch of baseball cards? I ain't got a lot in the way of useful shit, baby." He sighs, smoke spilling from his nose. "What'cha here for, mein welpe?"
It's not like Mercy particularly enjoys engaging with the unwashed masses of Huntsville. All things considered, he likely would have stayed home today, if he hadn't been well aware there were very few opportunities for him to get to practice his circus-related skills- there weren't many places for a magician's talent set in a place that relied as heavily as this one on self-sufficiency. It made hustling hard, and being Mercy even harder, but with the prospect of people being willing to engage in the fiction of the fantasy medieval times the town's heads had laid out, there was always the prospect for his feats falling in amongst the folly. So he'd dressed up, dragged himself out, and was in the midst of a performance with a small crowd. "Ah, remember, ladies and gentlemen! I am a skilled professional, those without my specific talents will find themselves injured or dead in the face of attempting anything you've seen today!" He declares, leaping up onto the box in front of himself, blue eyes focused through his mask on the daggers he's juggling, joking and chattering with his crowd before catching each blade on the way down- throwing them sharply into a nearby board just behind them, each landing with a heavy 'thunk!' into the thick wood- whizzing past enraptured viewers. "And your risk here? Not exactly minimal! Best to tip your performers- a good meal means a steady hand, and all that." He grins- the action pulling the full-mask up his face slightly as the crowd begins to dissipate, depositing tickets into the violin case by his feet. He turns to a straggler, raising a brow under his mask. "You need something, dollface? you look a little bit like you could use a cheering up. Granted. I'm not that sort of Jester."
Where: The Ocean Boutique
Who: Lark @kissyourselfgoodnight
"You can justify buying nice things for yourself, Amelia, it's just a top! You are a tv personality and that means maybe you can insist upon it being a tax write off." Like most days she's managed to find some free time without work or Tilt to worry about, Mimi's having a pointed disagreement with herself about doing anything for her own satisfaction that isn't directly related to her career. Maybe the crisis is a little obvious, the way she's examining her reflection with a shirt held in front of her and a number of other pieces of clothing hung waiting on a rack nearby, but she didn't think she'd drawn attention, until she sighs, turning to beckon one of the glancing faces.
"Hey, you, you look far more fashionable and aware of trends than I am- Are we doing wide-leg jeans and sparkly tops again or am I just interpreting the way my mom used to dress as cool again since it's been a few decades?"
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Where: Greenview Courthouse
Who: Danny @crownlessklng
"Just swinging by the courthouse, Anthony, you've got your doctor's appointment at noon today, so don't miss it, got it? I've got errands to run, so I can't- I know you're a grown man but- Christ." Mimi sighs, hanging up her phone and tucking it into her pocket as she climbs the courthouse steps, slipping through the heavy door and dropping herself smoothly down into the chair across from Danny's desk. "Gooooood morning Dannyboy!~ Hey, So, I know it's like, kinda early since I requested them buuuut you wouldn't happen to have those freedom of information act papers on the local court cases related to the college campus I asked for ready, would ya? I've got a big arts and crafts project taking up my dining room table and I definitely need those to ah... finish it." She straightens up, reaches into her backpack and sits a surprisingly undamaged box of pastries and a thermos of coffee down in front of herself.
"I have also, clearly, brought something to sweeten the idea of working with me on making that happen... quicker. Like... In time for my next show tonight?"
"Gooooood morning, beautiful~" It's Mimi's usual hello, bright and over the top- the Ward siblings had nothing if not a crippling optimism when it came to greeting the day- even if in Amelia's case, it was mostly fake. "Thanks for agreeing to catch breakfast with me, Rea, I needed to get out of the house today- Anthony's been skipping out on doctor's appointments, and keeping him to task is like herding cats, so I just need... a couple hours to do anything but be my brother's keeper- So like I said, this is my treat, you get whatever sounds good, because I'm about to wipe out a big ass plate of strawberry pancakes and as much coffee as I can down before I get sick."
She shuffles her ever-present backpack into the corner of the booth, adjusts her hat over dark hair, and puts her phone to the side- face up, should a producer, her brother- or anybody with something fun to gossip about need her attention. "How've you and Penny been? Feels like I've been like, the worst friend, but I swear I think this town only wakes up when somebody gets offed- I think we've both been a little busy."
"You know, I thought I hated the 'Artemis that's over sleeping with me' thing that was going on." Mercy's voice rings out as he makes his way to the party- fashionably late, as usual. "But I think, actually, I hate the whole... miserable sadbitch thing you're doing now way more." He declares, pulling his cigarette from his lips as he comes to a stop alongside Artemis, slinging one broad arm around her shoulders. "You know, I don't do that whole... 'feeling and sharing' bullshit thing, but like. You look. Miserable, baby. And typically I don't give a shit, be as...." He motions with a hand- middle finger in a splint and quickly tucked back into his pocket. "This. as you want, but something about your vibe is harshing mine."
He exhales smoke from his nose, head tipped up and away for a moment. "Anything that stuffing a piece of paper in somebody's deadbolt at night or no-strings quickies in the ranger station bathroom can fix, or is this like, a therapy situation, Cherry Bomb?"
