forum What an expensive fate... // OxO // Closed<3

Started March 10, 2022 by @EtherealDreamer

tune

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"Sittin' all alone
Mouth full of gum
In the driveway"

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So basically this is a roleplay with the plot of the The Goldfinch involved lightly.
there's a slight spoiler warning in the first sentence when I explain this RP's plot

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"My friends aren't far
In the back of my car
Lay their bodies"

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Character A and Character B are both in a museum at the time of its bombing, Character A Escapes, but not before encountering the dying Character B who is pinned under debris.
Character B gives Character A some kind of jewelry, and Character A keeps its, once Character B has passed on, Character A finds themselves able to see and communicate with Character B's ghost.

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"They'll be here pretty soon
Lookin' through my room
For the money"

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character sheet:
Name:
Age:
Sex:
Pronouns:
Appearance:
Clothing style:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Backstory:
Other:

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"I'm bitin' my nails
I'm too young to go to jail
It's kinda funny"

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I honestly just kind of want this to be the intro to the roleplay, then once Character B's ghost shows up a kind of slice of life thing for both of them, as Character A attempts to get used to living with the ghost of a person they barely knew, while Character B tries to learn the up's and down's of being a ghost.

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"Maybe it's in the gutter
Where I left my lover
What an expensive fake
My V is for Vendetta
Thought that I'd feel better
But now I got a bellyache"

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(Sorry about the wait! I hope this suffices. It's the first thing my sleep-addled brain came up with lol)

The lie was not a pleasant one—nor was it his to tell. But forgiveness would have to wait, as the only thing now left between him and paradise was this goddamned sphinx who wouldn't stop shaking her head!

"Oh come on!" Stein exploded, hands clenched into fists. He crossed his arms and leered at the creature with a devastating pout, but the sphinx merely held his gaze neutrally. "Aren't you sphinxes supposed to love riddles? Do you have any idea how many riddles I studied for this adventure?"

The creature huffed out a breath and rolled their eyes—all four of them! "Riddles are such an outdated method of keeping people out. Secrets are a far better way of judging a person's character, not to mention a thousand times more entertaining…" They tilted their head appraisingly at Stein, trailing off. "Usually."

"Why, you—!"

"If the best you could come up with was that you 'saw your friend Al waltzing with a gecko last time he drank,' you have no place beyond this gate," the sphinx explained, cutting him off mercilessly.

Stein hesitated, visibly lost. "So what now? Are you going to eat me?" he challenged, hiding the inkling of fear he felt at the notion by planting his hands firmly on his hips.

The sphinx's nose wrinkled. "Again with these outdated ideals. When was the last time you read a book? A current book? Gods, no. I'm not going to eat you," they relented, much to Stein's obvious relief. "Now scram, unless you have an actual secret to share."

Name: Beau Millerson
Age: Twenty
Sex: Male
Pronouns: He/him
Appearance: Around 5'10 with a slim build and caramel-colored skin. Black hair artfully styled to be just shy of a mess. Hazel eyes that shift from green to gray depending on what he's wearing and the surrounding lighting. A mole on his bottom lip, pierced ears (cartilage, lobe), long eyelashes. His bottom teeth are slightly crooked, adding to his youthful/naive appearance. Dimples when he smiles and pen doodles all over his skin!
Clothing style: Art hoe aesthetic outfits all the way! Denim overalls he's painted designs on himself, a bright orange-red blouse, and a hair full of matching clips. Toss in some simple jewelry, a yellow jacket wrapped around his waist, and a pair of beat-up vans to complete the look!
Likes: Freedom, hanging out with friends, messy art, spontaneity, horror novels, music, dance.
Dislikes: Society, ill-mannered customers/clients, sappy love stories, cats.
Backstory: Had a fairly uncomplicated upbringing up until high school. His parents divorced when he was young and he grew up very close to his mother. She was overprotective of him, however, to the point of stifling his creativity and freedom. Because of this, their relationship soon began to sour and Beau was left with the choice of continuing down that route or getting out while he could. With the space to breathe and think that came with moving out, Beau was later able to salvage that relationship with his mother in a way that was no longer toxic to either of them.
Other: Has a complete squirrel brain due to his ADHD, to the point where nearly all his friends have his contact saved simply as the squirrel emoji. His attention span is next to nothing, something he laments because he swears he wants to watch TV, but he can't sit through more than an episode at a time. Finishing projects can be hell if he's not inspired, hence why he's not a full-time commissioner.

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(Is Beau good?)

Name: Benjamin Ovala
Age: nineteen
Sex: Male
Pronouns: he/him
Appearance: this <3
Clothing style: these
Likes: Paintings, dogs and cacti
Dislikes: white supremacy, sexism and adults who misuse their authority.
Backstory: Benjamin, otherwise known as Ben was raised by his abuelita, who cared for him up until he moved out, shortly before she died. His parents were murdered for racist reasons when he was only four, so he doesn't really fully remember them, sometimes his memories come back in bits and pieces.
Other:

• his aesthetic is literally just like indie–
• his mother was mexican and his father was Irish.

(thats fine, the only time Im usually on this site is at school because inability to use technology at home both due to internet issues and parental issues)
(is it cool if we start right before the museum bombing? When your character is still like— alive?
Unless you want to start after the bombing? Either is fine with me tbh)

Benjamin walked out of the museums bathroom, muttering to himself and shaking himself.
"What a waste of time" he muttered as he looked up at a painting of a woman lying on the grass.

He had come here with his friend Millie, who just five minutes ago had gotten a call from her boyfriend—Devin and rushed off, leaving him in the museums bathroom with a text from her that said she had to leave.

Now he had no ride home.
Fantastic.

The sound of people milling about and conversing with each other made good background noise as Beau worked. His pencil moved fluidly across the paper, strokes slowly coming together to form a simple recreation of the sculpture in front of him.

The boy paused, humming as he glanced his drawing over. Holding his thumb out straight in front of him, he double-checked the proportions before nodding to himself in satisfaction. The small sketchbook flipped shut in his hand as he stood from his cross-legged spot on the floor, joints popping as they realigned.

“What now?” he mumbled to himself, scanning the open area for his next subject.

It wasn’t often Beau had time to himself like this. Most of his days were dedicated to his two part-time jobs or his one lonely dance class on Wednesdays. Actually having a day to himself felt a little foreign, hence why he decided to pay a visit to a local, but well-known, art museum. The tickets were cheap—well, cheaper than some other things in the area—and it gave him the opportunity to practice little recreational sketches as opposed to his usual character design. And, the icing on the cake, he didn’t have to worry about leaving at any time in particular.

Although judging by his rumbling stomach, he’d probably leave to get something to eat soon. ’Do museums have food stands?’ he wondered to himself, trying to recall if he’d seen any on his way in. ’Surely they have vending machines, at least.’

With this in mind, he turned back towards the way he’d come, past the bathrooms, only to stop short at another boy leaving said bathrooms. Normally he’d pay him no mind, but the fixed glare the other immediately turned onto a painting caught his eye.

“Whoa, what’d that painting ever do to you?” Beau asked, drawn to the other boy’s glare. He stopped right beside him, tilting his head at the painting in question.

Benjamin widened his eyes wildly, jumping slightly in startlement.
He cleared his throat, blushing.
"Oh… uhm–" he stuttered, clearing his throat again and coughing lightly. "Nothing, I'm just pissed right now, y'know?" He said, angling his head toward the stranger. "My ride ditched me and everything so my whole permanent resting bitch face definitely isn't helping."

Beau made a noise of understanding, tapping his sketchbook idly against his thigh.

"That'd do it," he agreed. "Do you have anyone you can call? Maybe an Uber or something?" He didn't say it to be dismissive, except— Well, now that he'd gotten his answer, the mystery of the other boy wasn't quite so pressing. He didn't want to waste more time than necessary making small talk with a stranger when he had more important things to do, like finding food… Although.

"You wouldn't happen to know of any food spots near here, would you? You can hang with me 'til you get a ride sorted, if you want. I'm here by myself, anyway," he offered. After all, it was always nice to talk with someone else who was interested in art, if that was the case. He was assuming (or at least hoping) so, since most people didn't come to a museum just to not look at art.

Benjamin shrugged idly.
"uh sure…" he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck "there's a strip mall like two minutes from here, it has a small restaurant and a Papa John's" he suggested, stubbing the tip of his slip on vans into the ground.

The older boy gave him a sidelong glance, mulling the idea over. He hadn't been planning on leaving the museum just yet—had really been hoping to hear there was a vending machine or something of the sorts—but the idea of pizza was awfully tempting. Several more seconds passed until he finally blinked, tearing his eyes away from the other boys' to check the time.

"Eh, why not?" he finally responded, shifting his weight and slinging the small backpack he carried over his shoulder so he could safely deposit his sketchbook. He's done more spontaneous things, after all, and he didn't get any malicious vibes from the awkward, assumed teen across from him. "I'm Beau, by the way. Thought you should know if we're going on a date only two minutes after meeting," he explained with a playful grin.

Benjamin blushed a deep scarlet color, the tips of his ears looking as if they were burning.
"Well nice to meet you," he said, smiling at the other boy "im Benjamin, but you can call me Ben" he said and looked down, at his feet.
"Everyone calls me that anyways" he added quickly.

He then looked up and began leading Beau through the museum quickly, as if competing in a mental race against a clock that only existed in his head.
He turned his head while walking. "So," he said, with the smallest of smiles on his lips. "Do you come here often—" he managed before a giant jet of white light interrupted his vision as a sonic booming sound occured from very close by, causing Ben's ears to ring very loudly as he was thrown a few feet in the air, landing with a dull thud.

(if it wasn't clear enough… the bomb went off—)