Post by OPHELIA IVY KNIGHT on Feb 7, 2010 9:40:22 GMT
ophelia ivy knight !
hamlet.
hamlet.
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FAMILY:hey howdy hey! this is shazi and i'm sixteen years old. i've been roleplaying for like, three years and i've loved every minute of it. at the moment i play catherine leah macbeth and i love all of them. if i'm not around, catch me on pm, email or aim and i should respond. so yeah, peace!
yes, it's true; you've brainwashed me and now
I'M ALL CONFUSED. I STILL SOMEHOW HOPE I END UP WITH YOU
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[/size]Ophelia was on the run again. It seemed as if this were becoming and more common occurrence with each passing day. Her brother Laertes and her father Polonius grew worried about her, but she felt so stifled at home. She felt so judged. She was old enough to make her own choices and her own mistakes and yet both her brother and her father babied her as if she were still a meek fourteen year old. She was tired of it, quite frankly and her way of rebelling--quite silently--was to run away. She had a few hideout spots here and there just so she wasn't easy to catch, but there was one place she favored above all the rest.
It was the church. As odd as it sounded. She didn't really go there for religious purposes, but often when she ran away, the church was the one place where no one she knew would find her. Who would think to search there? Ophelia also met Hamlet at the church sometimes, in full secrecy when her father forbade her to see him. She couldn't stand to be away from Hamlet for long and when she was sick of being so controlled and restricted, she did her best to escape. And that was why today, she was sprinting across Verona Beach with the sides of her pure white, flowing skirt bunched up in her fists. Her thick, black boots beat down hard against pavement and ground as she ran, not looking behind her. The people on the street were mere blurs; she did not look at faces, she merely dodged them. Ophelia didn't have to figure out where she was going. She seemed to be on auto-pilot. Her feet knew the way. Besides, she practically had this pathway memorized by now; she was sure she could travel it in her sleep.
She rounded a corner, still running frantically, but made the mistake of craning her neck and looking behind her as she thought she'd heard someone call her name. The moment she turned the corner, she ran smack-dab into a very hard something and tumbled over on impact, her white skirt gathering dirt and dust from the ground. Ophelia quickly mumbled some apologies and kept her head bowed as her cheeks burned hard and hot. She pressed her palms down on the ground and pushed herself up, still keeping her head down as she brushed off whatever she'd picked up from the ground off her clothing. "I'm terribly sorry," she said to whomever she'd bumped into. "I should have been paying more attention. Excuse me."
She moved to continue running, her head still bowed, when an arm shot out and a hand wound around her small wrist. With wide, frightened blue eyes, Ophelia looked up to meet the face of a stranger. Was he going to hurt her? Her heart beat wildly and her eyes desperately searched his face for any telltale sign of his intentions. "Ophelia?" the stranger uttered, his voice softer and gentler than Ophelia had imagined it would be. Certainly gentler than the grip on her wrist.
How did this man know her? Ophelia wasn't sure she wanted to stick around to find out. Perhaps he was one of Laertes' friends. Perhaps he planned on returning her to her family. Not so soon, no! Not already! She didn't want to go back; she'd just escaped! Ophelia ripped her arm out of this man's grip and with another scared look, she jetted off in the direction she'd been going in. She vowed not to look back again until she got to the church. Perhaps Hamlet was waiting there for her! Oh, God forbid she keep him waiting!
As she ran however, skirt a little sullied and her wild hair more unkempt and wilder than usual, thoughts on the stranger kept flitting through her mind. He wasn't familiar to her, yet he'd known her name. Ophelia wanted to shrug it off. She was well favored around these parts and quite favored by the influential Gertrude; people were bound to know her. Still, there was something about that strange man in particular. She couldn't get the thoughts about him out of her head...
