Not the girl next door or a girl from France (Open RP)

[una-harlequin.livejournal.com]

It was early in the morning, perhaps an hour or so past sunrise (two hash marks on the Fantasyland sundial), and Miss Mrs Una Persson was out looking for ... something. She'd woken up from a vivid dream with the conviction that she really needed to find a Royal Albert gent's bicycle. Of course, as the dream faded, she couldn't remember why that could possibly important. But by then, she was already halfway across the park.

Well, sod.

Nothing for it, she decided, but to get something to eat and figure out what to do with the new day.

((Any and all are welcome to chat with or bother her at any point in the day.))

Comments

[una-harlequin.livejournal.com]

"Not that the coffee is terrific either, but it's not nearly as awful as the tea is capable of being." She fetched some milk, poured out coffee for herself and Kitty, and led the way to one of the tables.

"So tell me a bit more about where you came from," Una said. "When did you first hear the call of the stage?"

[kit-invelvet.livejournal.com]

Kitty picked up her coffee and sat herself at the table, then considered how to answer this question, given that she was still, in theory, a man. She didn't particuarly want to lie any more than was necessary, though, "Oh...I don't know exactly. I was brought up by my grandmother, who taught me all the songs and dances and so on. She didn't really want me to go into the theatre, she just thought it'd keep me occupied. But one day, I was...well, I was getting very sick of her, and when a travelling show, you know the sort that went from small theatre to small theatre, came into town, I press ganged them into letting me go with them. Or I kept trying with different ones until one took me." Pressganged meaning that she finally realised that dressing up as a man might get her somewhere on the stage that just being a small, flat-chested girl couldn't.