This is the first story I've written in a good two years, so I apologize for lack of excitement or anything. It plays out well in my head; I just hope I can document it correctly.
Right now I'm going through a serious Titanic phase, and I've undoubtedly fallen in love with the character Tommy Ryan. Which is why I'm writing this.
I can't do dialogue very well, so whenever Tommy or any other accented person is talking, just imagine their voices yourself. I'm sorry. Aurora has a bit of a cockney accent mixed with just a tish of proper English and lots of Irish thrown in there. She's hung around too many damn pubs. (: She keeps it hidden around the robots, but around others she lets loose. I'm only gonna make her accent noticeable when she's in italicized thought mode or talking, same with everyone else. It makes it easier for me. I'll try my best with it all, but I make no promises. DON'T JUDGE ME. D;
All of the characters from the Titanic are not mine, except for the ones I have created myself.
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April 5, 1912.
Southampton, England.
These are rough times for women. Especially those lost in the sea of poverty and hunger. You see, I just so happen to be a woman. And I am drowning in a sea of despair.
I'm not exactly the type of person people in the high-class society wish to be around.
I'm half Gypsy.
Frowned upon, scorned, spat at, cursed, insulted, the like.
I've grown used to it over the years.
My father was the son of an Aristocrat. Traveling the not-so-clean areas of London was a pastime of his, and he did it as often as possible. He was a sneaky rule-breaker. As am I, which might be where I get it. Next to my mother, of course. This is where the Gypsy blood comes in.
One day, a Gypsy caravan was having a show in the slums of London. My father came across just as the dancers appeared. Among them was my mother. Long, beautiful tight waved locks of black silk for hair, lightly tanned skin, almond shaped golden eyes, and nice legs.
This is what attracted my father, at first.
He was dying to meet her, and so he did his best to get her attention after the show.
Disappointment crept in when he couldn't find her, and he went to return home.
My father was stopped by a cry for help. To his luck, it was the beautiful Gypsy woman. But horrible muggers were attacking her.
I don't know all the details, exactly, but I do know my father kicked their asses, which led to my parents first meeting, which led to their first date, which led to their first kiss, and it went on from there.
His name was Vincent Hawthorne. Her name was Tsura, which meant "light of dawn." Her name fit perfectly with her golden eyes.
They were secretly married, but you can only imagine my grandmother's reaction when she found out what kind of "creature" her son had impregnated.
My mother died in childbirth, trying to have me.
I barely survived.
My father raised me himself, teaching me to never give up, never give in, and never change for anyone. He taught me how to play guitar, violin, and piano. All instruments that "proper young ladies" were not to touch. My father was such a rebel. I love him even now, even though he's gone. And never coming back…
He died when I was ten. Influenza is a murderer.
But, my grandmother wasn't completely heartless, in her own eyes, and saw fit to send me to all the proper schools to learn to be a clone. I went to finishing school and the like.
It was hell, to put it in short.
I should probably explain what I look like, shouldn't I?
My name is Aurora. Rory, for short. I'm about 5'4", give or take a few centimeters. Skinny, but not skeletal. Grandmother makes sure of that. I'm twenty-one and a half years old. Childish, I know, but I'd like to keep my childish spirit as long as possible. I have my mother's long, silky, tightly waved curled hair, and it's reached the middle of my back now. It's usually a large mess of curls, though. I hate having my hair done up all "perfect". I have a mixture of my father and mother's eyes. I've always loved them. A rare dark green around the iris, which fades to an almost cat-like golden color. My father's eyes were a deep green, like a valley of grasses in the shadow of a mountain. My mother's eyes, as golden as her personality.
I also have the unmistakable tanned skin of a Roma.
This brought on the insults at school.
I've come home to my grandmother's house crying multiple times. I used to get beat up, as well. At around age 14, I started to sneak out at night to the pubs and watch bar fights and boxing matches. I wanted to know how to protect myself. So I learned from the burly men of the "bad side of town".
My personality, I hope, is as fiery as my mother's. My father told me so many stories of her. It was enchanting.
She was like a goddess trapped in a human's body. Fierce and frightening, but friendly and fun at the same time.
I know I can be frightening. After learning all of those fighting moves and techniques and the sheer randomness of drunken brawling, the kids at school let me be.
I am friendly, but to those who truly deserve it. I do not spare kindness to the dogs of upper class.
I try to have as much fun as possible, taking on the role of family rule-breaker for my late father.
I do wish I could have met my mother.
But here I am, wandering the streets of Southampton. Listening in on gossips became a hobby after the fifth time I decided to wander off.
Two ladies passed by, the bags in their maid's hands trailing behind them making it obvious that they were off on a shopping spree, and they were talking awfully loud about a ship.
"Yes, Mary, I do believe the date of boarding is the twelfth. Roger tells me the voyage is to be at the highest luxury, I am most excited."
Ooooh, luxury, I thought, bored with the conversation already.
"What is the name of the ship again, Helen? Titanic, is it not? With a name like that, it sounds to be quite the marvel."
Hmmm,Titanic. Ah think ah've heard that name b'fore…
"Indeed, I cannot wait to see it with my own eyes. I hear it is the largest ship ever built, and unsinkable, as well. Where is it headed?"
"New York, Helen. How simply magnificent, don't you think?"
Broads like you don't think, yer masters do it fer ye, I thought bitterly.
Wait… New York? Was this the ship I heard Grandmother speaking of? The one she plans to send me off on?
Well 'ot dog, I get to be one o' the first to board the Titanic, 'ooray fer me.
I took my time getting home, and pardoned myself from dinner, having no appetite.
Going to New York all by my lonesome on a humongous ship, spending a week without a real soul to talk to. I'd be stuck in First Class, I know it. Grandmother wouldn't want her "favorite" granddaughter (She hates me.) to be off flitting about with "steerage".
I hate pompous old hags.
I want to make my own choices.
I'd rather sleep on the floor with a group of rats in the lowest part of the ship than sit in a room full of lifeless "people" talking about absolutely nothing.
Why is she even sending me away?
Oh yeah…
…Marriage.
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Alright, I know it's terrible. Dx
I'll probably go ahead and write a second chapter now, while I have this in my head.
I just hope this wasn't burning your eyes. ):
I do believe Tommy should appear in the 3rd or 4th chapter. I'm just writing this off the bat, no guidelines.
I'm a REBEL. :D
Reviews?
