#thepooridiot

Although Endora would never take advice from a mere mortal, she can’t help but be curious about the opinion of her...servant from time to time. As she sits suspended in midair, an ornate hookah by her side, she looks over at him, blowing out a large ring of smoke. 

 Send me a ☑ if you like the way I portray my character ll accepting

          Unlike many who might use the claim upon entering such an establishment, Esther had actually come to the nightclub solely for the music. Though loud, thumping bass wasn’t her ideal, the musicians in question had an inventive sound that piqued the ghost’s curiosity. She’d been taking sips from the same glass of scotch for twenty minutes--only ordered at all out of obligation.

          Though her attention wasn’t solely on the performers of the evening. Someone else among the revelers didn’t seem to be there for a wild night of dancing and foolishness. A man near the bar. Though she only cast wayward glances at him from her seat at an otherwise vacant table, it seemed he was observing--but observing what? 

          Just what role did he serve to play in the story of this little venue? Or did he intend on being only spectating? With no conscious command to her body, Esther found herself standing, glass still in hand. 

>> Read the letter. Betray the comrades that betrayed you. Hop ship for one heading north of England; the England who wants you DEAD. Drop anchor in Scotland. RUN.

Hamlet had been in hiding for two months now, longer than he ever thought he’d last. He made his way from town to town, attempting to stretch his dwindling funds as far as they would go. He struggled to maintain contact with Horatio, but it was difficult when he could not stay in one place for long. He yearned desperately for his companion, but Horatio had not the money for such a long journey and it was not yet safe for Hamlet to return to Denmark, according what few letters he received. And so he remained in Scotland. Weary, homesick, and very near defeated.

@thepooridiot

My character has amnesia, and can’t remember anyone or themselves. Send, “Remember me?” for their reaction.

Festé blinked as he was asked this and cocked his head in thoughtful consideration. Another one asking him if he knew them. The doctor had warned him this wold happen, after first reminding him of his own name (his first name he remembered automatically upon waking, but he had to be told the rest of it. It could be completely wrong for all he knew). But this one…this one of those whom he felt as if he had known, that he did indeed know…but from when and from where? When did they meet? What was his name? He could remember nothing of who he was and why they knew each other and yet, he felt this strong and unexplainable feeling of affection for this man. 

He bit down upon his lip, struggling desperately to put a name to the warming, familiar face before him. “I…I don’t know…” He finally said after a long and rather tense pause. Festé then clasped a hand to his forehead, trying his utmost and truly straining to remember, while his gaze lowered to the floor as he became more and more aware of his failure to do so.