#and the lady that called lives in a timezone 2 hours behind mine

[unbound-space-trash]

I'd be less nervous about my interview tomorrow morning if the lady that called to arrange it hadn't forgotten to send me an email with the office address -.-

[archivesdiveronarpg]

Congratulations, LOLA! You’ve been accepted for the role of ROSALIND. I have waited for my small, fighty daughter for so long -- and now you have absolutely blessed Diverona with her. Lola, I am completely and utterly over the moon with this all; from the interview, to the future plots, to the para sample, and the headcanons that detail her facets and characteristics perfectly. Ramona is, perhaps, one of my absolute favorite characters with her tongue-in-cheek humor and her need to fight with every breath that she takes. Bless you for bringing Ramona to the dash! I can’t wait to see what trouble she stirs up and what trouble she is bound to get into! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

Out of Character

Alias | Nicola / Lola (’ello, it’s me, i’m weak af)

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I go to university three times a week and am currently looking into getting a part time job plus my own rp project is soon to open but I always try to check in at least once a day unless I am not physically capable of it whatsoever — and, in all honesty, if I really vibe with a group, I become embarrassingly obsessed and will just be around during all my waking hours pretty much.

Timezone | GMT+1

Triggers | none, actually c:

Permission | Sure, I don’t mind!

Current/Past RP Accounts | oh god I have so many that I’ll just go with the most recent ones, this smol son of mine & this fierce daughter of mine whom I only got to play briefly but there’s a nice lengthy writing sample under the diary tab of her navigation!

In Character

Character | Rosalind — also known as Ramona Marlena Aguilar

What drew you to this character? | The first thing about her that caught my eye was her attitude — seizing the day, fighting back even when the odds aren’t in your favour, never caving in because the very act of living has so much left to offer you. I love that she hasn’t allowed her grief to define her but has clung to her rebellious mindset despite (or perhaps because of) the obstacles thrown in her path, even in times when she might have been better off becoming the submissive little girl she could never stomach being. To me, she feels like a free spirit but not the spacey, reckless kind without a care in the world. Instead, she perfectly combines this aspect of her personality with ambition, determination and endurance which could one day get her far should she stick to them.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | I would hope for Ramona to keep her spirits and carry on fighting her way through the tragedy of her life with her focus set solely on a positive outcome, never risking a glance back at the dilemmas of the past. In terms of plots, I hope she can have, in correspondence to my earlier elaborations, mostly — but not only —positive development. (I’ve honestly been dreading this part a little and procrastinating it until I ended up kind of researching past events and kindly getting fed some inside info on recent happenings so I’m really sorry if it’s a total mess but I had very honourable intentions??)

1. Increased ambition. With the sudden collaboration between Capulets and Spades, I can see Ramona’s will to fight being at an all-time high, her eagerness exemplary and dedication to the Montagues’ cause admirable, verging on (perhaps) ever so slightly obsessive. In times like this, she will be looking to prove herself both to herself and to her superiors in hopes of her efforts paying off and there being a higher rank within the organisation she now views as a substitute family but would like to have a little more say in in her future  — unsurprisingly, considering Rosalind famously happens to be Shakespeare’s female character with the most lines.

2. Increased concern. After the fiasco at The Dark Lady earlier in the month, Ramona can’t seem to shake a certain feeling of discomfort looming in the pit of her stomach when she isn’t sure about Valentina’s whereabouts, her friend’s life having as much value to her as her cousin’s at this point, both of them much more valuable than her own about which she rarely worries — after all, she has always pulled through so far. With the enemy growing stronger, I could see her concern for her closest friends growing larger, eventually spanning the grand majority of the mob. While the role of the mother hen may or may not suit her, she surely shouldn’t forget to keep looking out for herself for no one has any use for a dead protector.

3. Increased sense of self. Albeit lacking blood relation, Ramona has always viewed herself, first and foremost, as an Aguilar, and deemed the family as good as holy, their cause and intent always, without exception, matching her own, transforming her into merely a puzzle piece needed to complete the bigger picture. In interplay with her carpe diem mantra, I would love for her to put more thoughts into her individuality, which she does claim to value greatly but nevertheless pushes aside with ease in hopes of it being beneficial for the others. Perhaps she could come in touch with her roots or simply take a little time to ponder what she wants out of life for herself and not just the mob, to find a goal other than staying alive and to actually live every day to its fullest which I don’t think she has fully achieved quite yet for it is certainly a task much easier said than done.

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona? | A coy grin took a hold of her lips, orbs formerly described as doe eyes by her late father exhibiting a fiery glimmer, unmistakable proof of wildness untamed beneath the surface. Countless options shot through an alert mind at the speed of light, some of which turned the corners of plump lips further skywards; strange concepts of a past long behind her. Quiet places, the right location for a nobody to morph seamlessly into the crowd, often recommended to her when the city was still as foreign to her as she was a stranger to it. The Capital Library of Verona, the silent façade a cover for the organisation that should turn out to be her destiny, bearing the possibility of premature membership had she taken this well-intended advice. The elegantly educational confines of the Twelfth Night Museum, strictly honourable by day to make up for the debauchery unfolding in its upper realms night after night. The Castelvecchio Bridge she loved to cross consciously in the company of mindless pedestals, fur-clad paws of her tiny companion slowing their pace as they sensed the danger in the air she thrived on. Countless options, only one would be revealed. “Since I first heard of it, I was fascinated by the concept of a nightclub in a museum. In fact, I used to take it for a wild fabrication of someone trying to screw me over when I was first told about it.” Soft laughter scattering in varying directions with every shake of her head. “The initial bewitchment of the Tempest Lounge has faded, of course, but I still like going there just the same. It’s the kind of place where you can truly lose yourself for a bit and we all deserve a break from our woes and worries every once in a while.”

What does your typical day look like? | Briefly pursed lips, accentuating a tentative expression, soon opened again with delight, some of her daily rituals evidently close to her heart. “First of all, I wake up. Obviously. Before I do anything else, I take a few minutes to meditate; align myself with the universe or whatever you want to call it. Tell myself it’s going to be a day worth living, you know? Then I have a quick breakfast — I’m not really the type to lounge around for hours before I do anything productive — and make myself look just presentable enough to walk Persephone. After that, I usually pop in at our headquarters, or wherever else I’m supposed to meet with someone, to see what needs to be taken care of. I’m not very fond of always having a perfectly thought out plan when there isn’t any need for one so I just take it as it comes, hence once there’s nothing to do for me anymore I just try to make plans with Valentina or Castora or stroll around for a while or have a nice evening in with the dog.” A nonchalant shrug. “Whatever the day ends up having in store for me, I take it — unless it’s a shitty offer, of course.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“I consider it a necessary evil,” Ramona noted matter-of-factly, features hardened to an extent they bordered on neutral unreadability. “There’s always going to be bloodshed in this world, especially in this city. Someone is always looking to screw someone else over, even if it’s just two cockroaches. There’s no such thing as peace and harmony in a place like this and conflict is inevitable, no matter what the motives. It’s either the Capulets or the Spades or the two of them combined or some other leech trying to creep up our leg and suck on as much of our blood as they can before they’re being squished. That’s just the way this wicked game called life is played. As long as you keep fighting,” she shrugged, “you’re doing it right. And none of us should ever cease to fight. They asked for it.”

In-Character Para Sample:

“For fuck’s sake, where the hell are they?!”

Aggravated stomps carried a petite frame through the living room straight to the bedroom, prompting a tiny ball of white and grey fur to hop onto the bed in agony, shelter found on top of the covers. It’s a rare occasion in which one can witness Ramona losing her temper to this extent over something of so little significance but when the time has come, she is set off by even the smallest inconvenience that stands between her and a good time. In this particular scenario, the pair of earrings she was set on wearing tonight was the insufferable offender, whereabouts currently unknown, no sign of life provided. Behind her laid a trail of doom, chaos lining the lingering shadow of her steps, a freshly cleaned up flat transformed into a war zone within ten minutes or less. Thus far untouched, the bedroom was soon to follow the example set by its neighbouring localities, the first step to uncleanliness being the rummaging through drawers of her vanity the woman would have loved to simply pull out, their contents to be carelessly scattered on the floor — but her chance was missed the moment her fingertips brushed against the silk surface of a small pouch stored at the back of the first drawer, leaving her frozen mid-motion. Slowly, with extraordinary care, the unexpected meaningful discovery was retrieved with trembling hands, widened pupils settling on the fabric as though they were focusing on a dreamlike vision, her grip on reality lost once and for all.

Dumbstruck, the brunette plopped down on the chair strategically placed behind her, nails dug deeply into a token of her past she had believed to have vanished, a keepsake nearly forgotten. Deep breaths. In and out. Inhale. Exhale. Lids fluttered as she concentrated on her breathing, her increased heart rate only slowing down reluctantly. What shocked her the most, more than stumbling upon this little memento, is the shock itself. Wasn’t she supposed to be over it, the girl who lived, the girl who left her past behind along with the pain it caused her? Then why did a tied up pouch clasp her throat so tightly she feared she might choke any second now? Because she knew all too well what treasures it bore, stored within its hidden confines in a haste without a second look or thought, to be dug up nevermore.

Yet nevermore had come upon her, not the most unlikely guest considering the languid measures she had taken to prevent it from returning to her doorstep; measures she had taken because deep inside, the notion locked within her heart’s chambers, she knew all too well that one day, she would want them back in her line of sight: items she could no longer refrain from revealing if she was ever to regain her peace of mind. A gentle tug on the woven string, the innocent prisoners practically breaking out without further ado, gathering atop the vanity’s stark white surface.

A pendant sans its chain, shaped like an owl, its wise eyes staring back at her uneasy expression caught her attention first, pointer tracing its outline. This one she was given by her father, his pupils clouded with paternal concern. “Now, you’re a wise girl, Ramona. As wise as an owl, aren’t you? So please,” he had implored her, “please do me a favour and act like it.” A statement that could have easily triggered offence and, alas, it did for a few fleeting moments long since lost in time, but the addressed could only still hold onto it fondly, the memory of the encounter blurrier than she had hoped it would be. These should be the last words directed at her to drip from the man’s lips, his passing inevitable and to set in merely two days later. Pursed lips gathered at the corner of her lips in a soft frown. At least she hadn’t completely let him down. Granted, her way vastly differed from his but, in her eyes, she has been wise. A wise girl making wise decisions, finding herself a new home and purpose in a world of exaggerated cruelty.

Next came a marble seemingly made of its name twin so delicately painted, once her brother’s most prized possession in days of infantile innocence far away from this city’s shameful alleys he had given to her with a heavy heart full of love, the final seal of approval ending a rite of initiation as his sister. Oh, how she craved to regain the lightness of being they both possessed then, irrevocably lost the instant their soles touched Italian ground. “Relax,” he had sneered down the line, the connection wavering along with his voice. “You’re taking things way too seriously. If you go on like this, you’ll end up just like dad.” Only that he would be the one to end up like their father, finding eternal rest beneath the soil within the same month, she had begun to fear while he hadn’t anticipated it in the slightest.

Last but not least, an almost cruelly ironic jest. A pair of hoop earrings, worn by her mother when she was nothing more than a toddler wrapped up in her arms, in such impeccable condition they looked unworn, as had all of the woman’s possessions. “You’ll be good, won’t you, baby?” She had crooned, exhaustion oozing from every widened pore of her poisoned body, a layer of cold sweat glistening on dull skin. “You’ll live a good life full of happiness. Don’t you ever let sadness pull on your heartstrings for too long.” Advice given to a girl so young she lacked the capacity to follow it immediately but she had remembered it, word for word, clung onto it in desperation and embraced it with a slight delay, just in time for it to become her saving grace.

The electronic ‘ping’ of her phone, urging to be taken out of her pocket, broke the eerie silence that had been threatening to swallow her whole, chasing away the tears she was forbidden from shedding, the faint hint of a smile taking ahold of her lips as she spied Castora’s name on the screen.

“Still coming?! Valentina says to tell you she’s freezing her ass off in an accusing tone.”

A soft sigh, a newly found warmth triggered by relief flooding her body within moments. Her fingers typed at the speed of light, features softening at long last. “Five minutes. I got held up.” For there was no chance in hell she would allow for this to be what had last been directed at her by either of the women who gave her a reason to willingly get up in the morning. Two of the three tokens were gently replaced where they belonged — the third was to adorn their heiress tonight, once more possing as the solution to a problem at hand.

“Never, mama.” A quiet whisper drowned out by the nightly breeze. “Not as long as I can fight it.”

Extras: I’ve made her a little mock blog right here c:

HEADCANONS

CLOSE TO THE HEART:

• There’s a certain silver necklace Ramona is not likely to be caught not wearing, an amethyst pendant the star of the show, one of the few heirlooms passed onto her by her late mother she managed to hold onto after the move to Verona. In fact, she wears it with such routine that she feels uneasy without it either being around her neck or at least in her bag.

• Her dog Persephone joined her minimalistic family set up about a year and a half ago, a malnourished stray running into her near Castelvecchio by sheer luck or twist of fate. Knowing all too well how helpless and hopeless the little furball, presumably a Maltese mixed with some breed or other, had to feel, Ramona didn’t have the heart to leave her behind. Her name is her new owner’s way to make final amends and peace with death, in this case the underworld, after her frequent encounters with it.

• Although she has long given up on Christianity, if anything considering herself Wiccan, she regularly visits her father’s and brother’s grave, never without a token of her affection in tow. Usually, she spends thoroughly silent moments there, her form of communication with the deceased mutely mental unless she is extraordinarily distressed — then the emotional rants may very well unfold.

INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR:

• Staying in shape has always been important to her, her first regular workout being daily yoga sessions which she originally gave a try in hopes of it helping her become the quiet, calm woman who will under no circumstances stand out from the crowd her father hoped for her to transform herself into. While it failed to magically change her personality, it has helped her calm herself down and leaves her feeling centred and grounded, hence she still pursues it whenever she can. Once she realised that yoga didn’t have all desired effects on her, however, Ramona attempted kickboxing, hoping to achieve her goal with a rather clashing approach, which she immediately found herself enjoying. She has dabbled in various martial arts disciplines since but always finds herself in boxing gloves again sooner or later.

• It didn’t take long for Ramona to figure out that she was pansexual — in fact, she never had a true moment of realisation in that regard but accepted every form of attraction she has ever felt as factual and pleasant, meant to be if you will. Due to her lack of care for the concept of sexuality in itself, she never defines herself in any way, accidentally leaving even her friends in the dark about it only because she doesn’t consider it worth mentioning.

• If asked, Ramona would describe her clothing style as ‘functional 21st century Stevie Nicks’. Flowy, bohemian fabrics as light as Verona’s summer breeze are her wardrobe stable and what she is most likely to be seen wearing on a daily basis but she cleans up well and happily so, never underdressed for any occasion. Her hair she likes to keep in braids for the majority of the time but isn’t one to shy away from bolder moves, bleaching strands to douse in semi-permanent colourful dye or weaving in little accessories that best convey her current mood from time to time. In terms of makeup, she aims for a dewy, fresh-faced and rejuvenating look, her skin well moisturised and glowy, an artificial flush of life reviving her even after long nights and her eyes being the most accentuated feature, her mascara use heavy and her eyeliner look never being precisely the same the following day, if she uses it that day in the first place.