Trisha's House for the Unfit

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by ❤❤Vαℓєηтιηα❤❤, Sep 17, 2014.

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  1. It's the year 2049. Welcome to Trisha's House for the Unfit, where people of all ages are sent if they are deemed unfit for society, whether they be mentally insane or just hardened criminals.. The grounds is surrounded by a large electric fence and guards 24/7 to keep anyone from escape. Most people who come here never leave, but don't let that get you down! The House is made to be like the outside world, only with stricter rules. There is a town area, school, places people can get work, and even restaurants. But beware, punishment can mean death. Each individual wears a collar around their neck that will inject poison into their body if Trisha finds it necessary, so careful not to anger her. The House has a curfew and a few other rules, but otherwise it's every person for themselves. So watch out, and have a good time! Welcome to your new life.
    (Please, post a picture of your character OR describe them so we have an idea of what they look like, as well as their age in your opening post)
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    ~Opening Post~



    Jojo sat outside a small cafe, watching people stroll around. Her slim fingers traced over the iron collar around her throat as she contemplated what the day held in store for her. It felt like a normal day, heat beating down on her sun-kissed complexion. A soft wind blew, cooling her heated skin. Though she didn't look it, Jojo knew she was quite dangerous. She only reached 5'0, and was blessed with almond shaped emerald eyes and bow shaped ruby lips. A long black dress clung to her curves, emphasizing her full breasts and falling over her hour-glass shaped hips to the ground. At nineteen, she couldn't believe this was all her life would amount to.

    She had been here since she was nine years old, and could barely even remember what life outside of the House was like. All she remember was standing over the body of her baby-sitter, body splattered in blood with a knife in one hand and the woman's heart in the other. She couldn't quite remember the taste of the heart, but she yearned to feel the squishy texture slide down her throat once more. After that incident, her parents had sent her off to here, shunning her in the process. Though they could have visitors, she only remembered them visiting her once. Her mother had been so cold and distant, as if they were strangers. Her father hadn't even spoke, just stared at her with accusing eyes. Ever since then, Jojo had made a life for herself here. She even had a job, though nothing very important. Basically all she did was teach, and that was putting it loosely. Her bottom lip poked out, forming a small pout, and she let out a sigh. It was Saturday, yet there was nothing to do.
     
  2. Vincent was on his daily jog when he decides to stop at the local cafe to get a bottle of water, As he stands in line He takes off his shirt revealing his muscular figure covered in gang tattoo's, He begins wiping some sweat from his face when he notices a woman sitting, " cheer up , its not like your in hell or any thing" Vincent say's with a sarcastic tone. He had actually only bin here for a week and has learned to adapt quickly.
     
  3. Jojo heard a voice speaking from above her, and she glanced up, catching sight of a muscular man covered in tattoos and sweat. Her lips formed a small frown, unsure why the man was speaking to her. He didn't look familiar, so he was either new or didn't get around often. "It's a bit like hell." She replied to him, her tone curt. Realizing she was probably being rude, she cleared her throat, attempting to school her expression into a more friendly one. "Who are you, anyway?" Though she tried to help it, her words still came out quite harsh and rude. It wasn't her fault, it's just how she spoke to people she didn't know. The unknown made her uncomfortable, and she reacted to discomfort by becoming cold.

    She looked him over once more, noting how his posture and body language spoke of someone who was quite confident in themselves. Either he was quite dangerous and had been here a long time like her, or he was new here and was quite powerful on the outside. Either way, it caused her to become more wary. Anybody who was that dangerous would probably strike her temper, and when that happened she tended to become quite a violent mess. Last person who had striked her temper she remembered smashing their face in with a chair, and attempting to bite off their jugular. That had earned her two weeks in The Cell, and that was the last place she wanted to go back to. Next time she got violent, she needed to make sure there were no witnesses. Realizing she had zoned out staring at the man, her cheeks flushed a pale rose color, and she averted her gaze to the ground.
     
  4. He hangs his shirt over his right shoulder while fixing the collar around his neck. " hence the sarcasm " He say's before looking back at her and smirking. When he gets his water bottle he leans on a near by wall. " who am i ?......... im inmate # 808 " He says before taking a sip from his bottle. Since he was the leader of a syndicate from over sea's he tend not to use names in case a rival syndicate member was in the prison. He looks back at the girl noticing she was stareing at him and approaches her table. " so what's a doll like you doing in a place like this? " He says while he examines her with his eyes .
     
  5. She glanced back up at the man, realizing he was still communicating with her. Her emerald eyes narrowed, and she let out a small sigh. It seemed like she had no choice but to continue socializing with him. "Nice to meet you," She paused, then said continued with some hesitation, "inmate 808." She plastered on a friendly smile, though it came out more like a cocky smirk. "I'm inmate number 553, but you can call me Jojo." At his next comment, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. She slammed her hand down, looking at him with a serious expression. "I'm not a doll, for one. Talk to me like that again, and I'll cut off your face and use it as decoration for my room." She finished by fluttering her lashes at him. " 'Kay, doll?" Her tone was wrapped with menace, and she said the word doll as if it were acid.
     
  6. Vincent steps back " there it is " Seeing her reaction had answered his question. Vincent came to the conclusion that she was probably a lunatic that was arrested and locked in here. takes another sip from his bottle before closing it. " well i can see u have some serious daddy issues " he says smirking at her. " so ill leave you to it jojo " He copy's the tone she used when she said doll when he said her name . He stretches for awhile before taking off on his jog , Turning his head he waves back " see ya around doll face " He makes his way down the street while he laughed.
     
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    It was exactly 6 years ago, the memorable day. It was the day Ringo's childhood illusions disappeared, for eternity. She was born into a fairly normal family, one that tricked themselves into thinking that love and bond were the strongest things in the world. Ringo simply went along with it, not developing a philosophy towards life until many years later. Anyways, her illusions disappeared when the color of Ringo's tongue turned red, and something stained her shirt. Something, as in the blood of her mother, father, and younger brother. Even when she saw her family's lifeless corpses, she stood still, and waited for any signs of emotion. She didn't pity them a single bit, and was curious at how their blood would taste. No, she wasn't curious. She just thought it would be good to know.

    The 17 year old despised the collar around her neck. It was one of the small amount of things she hated. She also hated where she was, a horrible horrible horrible place. After she killed her parents on that fateful day 6 years ago, she knew her life was going to change, but it literally spiraled out of control and government "officials" decided her fate for her.

    She ended up in a place, where escape was a taboo dream. Every morning, she simply woke up, and went along with the schedule.
     
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