[ Her lips part to question him about that, too-- but she loses her voice once the reel begins to play. Grell is entirely enamoured with the image of her mother. Even her father. Their faces had just nearly faded away in her memory. That brief, seemingly happy time together as a family ends within moments, however; she glances away as the records speeds through her childhood. Long stretches of loneliness broken apart by lessons meant to educate or toughen her, peppered with physical scoldings from her father.
Things begin to take on more life, once she seemingly branched out on her own. Having a flat of her own gave her the space to read whatever materials she pleased freely. She moved closer to a theatre, to see the literature of Shakespeare come alive, and took to reciting aloud at home. During one of her many visits to the shows, she was invited to one of their after parties - a mere mistake, as her handsome face was recognised, though uncertain as to where from, and supposed to be someone of some standing. There were people like here there; unusual. Some of the men were painted, others even in dresses. Finally, she began to feel comfortable somewhere - and the next even, she tried a hand at painting her own face, late at night, in her sleeping gown.
That weekend, she managed to smile her way into another post-celebration. It became clearer that these festivities were not merely for the show, and almost exclusively for the men. They were very open about their love, and it felt very scandalous, but freeing, and she was among the actors she so admired... Her visits became more regular, though she often remained too shy beyond keeping to herself. One seemingly random week night, though, the crowd was small, and the performer that she admired most took interest in her, for she was seemingly disinterested in speaking with him (though, in truth, she was just far more content admiring him over her book, from the corner).
Bored as he was, he charmed her. Talked her up, and curiously continued to pick at her throughout the week. Grell had never had the attention of another man before. She was beginning to think that she was in love. By Saturday, he had coerced her into a private room and bedded her.
When asked to return the following night, she had thought it to be another romantic randevu; however, she arrived to find another young man sweet on him. And several more. She had been too oblivious to the darker things that took place at the Molly House, and the reality hit her hard. Asking to excuse herself, she was teased harshly, told she should be honoured to be involved in such a thing-- but perhaps it was best that a virgin go home. Except, she'd just been broken in, said her beau. Heartbroken and easily dominated, she was coerced into spending the night with five strangers. She went home with little effort to right herself, and it caught the attention of two drunk men. She was badly beaten.
Once she'd healed, she found herself there, on those cliffs.... and Grell could swear that she knows what comes next. ]
I don't understand why this is important...
[ Grell murmurs, oddly flat, as she stares at the reflection in the table's surface. ]
no subject
Things begin to take on more life, once she seemingly branched out on her own. Having a flat of her own gave her the space to read whatever materials she pleased freely. She moved closer to a theatre, to see the literature of Shakespeare come alive, and took to reciting aloud at home. During one of her many visits to the shows, she was invited to one of their after parties - a mere mistake, as her handsome face was recognised, though uncertain as to where from, and supposed to be someone of some standing. There were people like here there; unusual. Some of the men were painted, others even in dresses. Finally, she began to feel comfortable somewhere - and the next even, she tried a hand at painting her own face, late at night, in her sleeping gown.
That weekend, she managed to smile her way into another post-celebration. It became clearer that these festivities were not merely for the show, and almost exclusively for the men. They were very open about their love, and it felt very scandalous, but freeing, and she was among the actors she so admired... Her visits became more regular, though she often remained too shy beyond keeping to herself. One seemingly random week night, though, the crowd was small, and the performer that she admired most took interest in her, for she was seemingly disinterested in speaking with him (though, in truth, she was just far more content admiring him over her book, from the corner).
Bored as he was, he charmed her. Talked her up, and curiously continued to pick at her throughout the week. Grell had never had the attention of another man before. She was beginning to think that she was in love. By Saturday, he had coerced her into a private room and bedded her.
When asked to return the following night, she had thought it to be another romantic randevu; however, she arrived to find another young man sweet on him. And several more. She had been too oblivious to the darker things that took place at the Molly House, and the reality hit her hard. Asking to excuse herself, she was teased harshly, told she should be honoured to be involved in such a thing-- but perhaps it was best that a virgin go home. Except, she'd just been broken in, said her beau. Heartbroken and easily dominated, she was coerced into spending the night with five strangers. She went home with little effort to right herself, and it caught the attention of two drunk men. She was badly beaten.
Once she'd healed, she found herself there, on those cliffs.... and Grell could swear that she knows what comes next. ]
I don't understand why this is important...
[ Grell murmurs, oddly flat, as she stares at the reflection in the table's surface. ]