Wayside

When your wandering takes you to parts unknown, you may wind up on the Wayside. A port town surrounded by a thick white fog, hidden from the rest of the world, just the way the residents like it.
 
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 Melanie Moore

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Melancholy Melanie
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Age : 27
Location : Just this side of Nowhere

PostSubject: Melanie Moore   Mon Dec 21, 2009 6:58 pm


Portrait, WIP

NAME
Alias: Melanie Alexis Moore
Original Name: 윤 은미(Yoon Eun Mi)
Nicknames: Mel-Mel, Melancholy Melanie
----------------------------------
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
HEIGHT: 5' 8"
AGE: 28

Black, shoulder-length hair. Gray eyes with a green tint. North Korean.

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PERSONALITY

Very morose and withdrawn. Seemingly without strong emotions, though in reality she probably has too many though she hides it well. Always feels like she is waiting for something, which she usually attributes to her missing lover, though she knows this is not entirely sure for she has always felt like she was waiting for something, even when she was with him.

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BACKSTORY
Mel has lived in the Wayside longer than nearly anyone, but never seems to age. She has always listened to the stories of travelers who find their way into her inn one way of another. Half of her hopes to someday escape the Wayside and see one of these worlds for herself, but the other half is content where she is, providing comfort and a listening ear to the newly lost. Wayside is a refuge to her from the horrors of her universe's North Korean, which she ran away from. She writes poetry in the dead of the night.


Last edited by Melancholy Melanie on Fri Jan 22, 2010 11:48 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Melancholy Melanie
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Posts : 234
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Join date : 2009-12-21
Age : 27
Location : Just this side of Nowhere

PostSubject: Re: Melanie Moore   Sat Jan 09, 2010 6:47 am

In case you are ever bored and want your character to discover her poetry, well, here you go. I'll add more if I feel like writing more. Yes, I wrote these. Yes, they are emo and crappy. Shut up, they mean something to me. I guess she keeps them in a small book with a black leather cover that she keeps either on her nightstand or under the reception counter while she is working.

---------------------------------

Sometimes,
late at night when
anyone with any sense has
long since gone to rest
I move - at last! - to slip beneath the covers,
looking to calm the waters
and make a lake, smooth as glass
from a turbulent sea
and Rest.

Instead,
I find myself looking upon my regrets
Hanging in my mind like tiny stars
Twinkling multitudes
of distant recollections;
Painfully bright
sharply projected on the canvas of my lids.
Was it worth it?
Is anything?

The water churns.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It looked like a crime scene
Crimson smears of grisly pain
marring the white perfection of porcelain
Hide the evidence!
violent torrents of water turn streaks into curls

I follow the spirals downwards,
pretending to disappear as they do

Nothing but a quiet gurgle
to mark my departure.

I have found
no
way
out
but this.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I lost something important in the shadows of the morning
Something glittering, shining, just out of reach
a voice, or maybe a song,
comforting,
warm;
A beacon of light
scattering night demons to the edge of my dream
hissing and frightened
they ran,
unable to bear the light that revealed them
for their true selves.
Wispy phantoms of things long gone,
long past,
what should have been long forgotten.
I was
Safe.
Safe?
I reached for the light, calling out with broken syllables
I know you,
don't leave me,
I know you
I think I know you
But with the hazy recognition the light wavered
And in a flash,
the voice,
or maybe,
the song,
Was gone again
leaving me once more
alone
in the darkness of my mind
desperately waiting
for it to be light again

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am a bloody mess, love.
Do you see me?
Or do you pretend that I am clean as ever?
Even as I stand here, I try to cover my scars.
Do you see them?
Or do you look away, ashamed as I am at these ragged marks?
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PostSubject: Re: Melanie Moore   Sat Jan 09, 2010 1:00 pm

They are not crappy, Wesa! They are, in fact, quite good. I like them Smile
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