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Margaret Sinclair

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  1. Margaret Sinclair

    Away & Here Notices

    Alright, so currently shooting for Tuesday as my catch-up day. I am actually off and have no doctor appointments (though it will be day 2 after shot 2 of the vaccine). That being said, I do have a story to share. Due to medical issues, I had to have a brain MRI on Wednesday. Because the machine is so loud, they strap a set of headphones over my ears and ask me what kind of music I like. Since I am firmly Gen X, I said 80s/90s, imagining Guns 'n Roses, Bon Jovi, Nirvana, Journey, etc. They swaddle me up and slide me into the white light sarcophagus and I hear an introduction for Spotify. Then the music starts. It is Backstreet Boys. Huh. I guess they count as 90s? Next song should be good. Segways into...Backstreet Boys again. Not cool, but I'm kinda stuck. Next song has to be better. Once again, Backstreet Boys. Now I know someone has to be messing with me, right? Fourth song comes on-'NSync. At least it wasn't Backstreet Boys. They stop the machine and roll me out, telling me they're going to put the contrast in the IV now. I mention the BoyBandapalooza. The girl pushing the contrast said, "It is someone's list. It says "Megahits of the 80s and 90s". Instead of increasing my time in the tube of bright white light, I say nothing about music change. It can't get worse, right? Laugh is on me. Next song. "Everybody Dance Now" by C+C Music Factory, followed by everybody's beloved one hit wonder "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred and then, just to make sure my brain wasn't completely scrambled, as a finishing move, they played..."Cotton Eye Joe". So, it is taking a bit longer to unscramble the mess that is my brain. If it hadn't been for Cotton Eye Joe....
  2. Margaret Sinclair

    Away & Here Notices

    The moment I said I had my health issues under control, they made a liar out of me. I'm hoping in the next day or two to have a firmer handle on what's going on and to get back to here. I apologize for the delay.
  3. Margaret Sinclair

    Emerging-morning 13th of April (open)

    The galloping horse rushing past gained what would be classified as a frown as the kicked up dirt most likely landed if not on, than in the vicinity of her dress, and that was terribly rude. As was the sudden thud to her shin! Looking downward, violet eyes met those of a young canine. Long silky ears and coat marked the creature as a spaniel of some sort. Squatting down, she said, "Well, at least you ran into me and not into those horses. I don't believe you would have been the winner in that contest." Still in that position, she looked up at the other blond lady speaking to her, tilting her head slightly as she noted the creature sitting on the woman's shoulder. "I should hope my shins are made of sterner stuff than to take damage from a small puppy's head. Against your shoulder adornment, that I would not take bets on." Before the puppy to make a mad dash away, as puppies are wont to do, she pinched the skin at the back of the neck where a mother dog would pick up her pups then slid her hand under the belly to lift. Their nearest neighbors had been Dutch, having lived in New York when it was New Amsterdam, and they had a pair of Kooikerhondje which were similar in shape to spaniels. She stood up. "Do you have something that," she lifted the puppy for a moment to peek beneath, "she won't slip out of easily? If not, I'm sure my maid won't mind running back to my rooms to fetch a large bracelet and long chain necklace to fashion a quick one to keep your escape artist from trying her tricks."
  4. Margaret Sinclair

    What a View! (Wednesday, April 13th, midday) Caroline OPEN

    Based on the fine quality of the fabric used, the ribbon tied to it and the pearl button, Margaret figured the owner of the item must be well-to-do. With that in mind, she turned and headed back the way she came from, not bothering to check if her maid followed. It was a given. Still attired in the light grey walking dress she had donned earlier, her own parasol protecting her pale features, she slowly made her way back towards the construction. Margaret was never one to move in haste. Speed tended to apply to those with more intense emotions, of which she was rather lacking. It wasn't as if she thought she would never be excited. She just hadn't found anything that moved her in such a way, besides play with her father's then husband's funds. And even that was mostly coolly calculated. As she neared the structure, she noted two ladies emerge. They were obviously ladies (or wives or mistresses of very wealthy men) and did appear to be missing one parasol among them. "I beg your pardon, my ladies," she said, her accent definitely not pure English, "are one of you missing a wayward parasol? One seemed to find the head of my maid an appropriate landing space. No damage done," she said, waving vaguely over her shoulder at her maid, who bobbed a curtsey as she dropped her hand from the back of her head, hiding the spot of blood on her palm in her dress. "I just wish to return the rascal to the rightful owner." All of this said with just the barest smile on her lips that, if one looked closely, didn't quite make it to her eyes. "Who know what sort of havoc it could wreck if allowed to run free?" Gah, how annoying it was to have to act like she cared! Really, emotions were wastes of energy that could be put to better use. But, Papa said people liked emotions in others.
  5. Margaret Sinclair

    What a View! (Wednesday, April 13th, midday) Caroline OPEN

    Margaret knew some of the best gossip could be found among the tradespeople of a town. Of course, as a well dressed lady, they wouldn't feel free to speak to her, but her maid was able to slip easily under people's notice and hear tasty tidbits that could be used at a later date. So, at what could only be described as a slow ramble, Margaret walked down the street, pausing to glance here and there, as though she was looking for something particular, giving the maid time to listen for anything good before moving on. It wasn't as if she missed the large construction, but such goings on were nothing new to her. New York City was constantly under construction. That's what happened when more and more people arrived, looking to build a new life. That new life required housing and store fronts and wharves and ships and bigger buildings and grander homes. So, instead of stopping to stare in wonder or wander up the stairs, she stepped on by, her own parasol up to protect her fair skin from the sun. "OW!," her maid cried out, the loud squall causing Margaret to turn around to see what all the fuss was about. She found her maid rubbing the top of her head while glaring down at a parasol on the ground. An almost expression (a single eyebrow raised) crossed Margaret's face. "Where did you get that?," she asked as she pointed at the fine lady's accessory. "It fell on me head, m'lady," the maid replied, looking skyward, as if she would find a lady standing above, searching the sky for her lost item. "What do you mean it fell on your head? Parasols don't just drop from the heavens." Her speech was obviously not native English. The tone had a base there, but due to her interactions with the Dutch who had formerly called New York New Amsterdam, there was a broader tone with flattened vowels. Margaret looked up herself, looking to see if she could find any explanation for the parasol attack, her eyes straying back towards the new construction, based on the way her maid rubbed her head, giving a basic direction the item would have come from, motioning for the girl to pick up the parasol so it wouldn't get any more dirt on it.
  6. Margaret Sinclair

    Emerging-morning 13th of April (open)

    After driving through the night (the inn she was supposed to stay at was deplorable in her opinion) and getting settled in her suite at Dorchester House, Margaret felt the need to stretch her legs. Even though the carriage was well sprung, she had no desire to sit down in the near the future. So, after getting directions, she found herself walking down a lane in St. James Park. Dressed in a light gray day dress, with just enough lace and embroidery with silver thread and a few small cabochon amethysts used as decorations down the front of her stomacher, she carried a parasol of a similar shade as her dress. Gloves of silk completed the outfit. Her blond hair was done up in a coronet style, keeping it nice and tidy. Several feet behind walked her maid, an woman who looked like a stiff wind would shove her off her feet, but would battle a raging wolf for her mistress. Mousy brown hair and eyes and freckled face, she would never stand out in a crowd. The sun was shining, which she had come to find rare in her new homeland. All the tutors and teachers she had had, none had warned her of how GRAY England was. At least the park made her feel a bit closer to New York. She didn't really miss it so much as the familiarity of it. She'd had another letter from her mother that required response as well as her father, but his required her getting her man of affairs to check with the manager of his London shipping office concerning some discrepancies with a few bill of goods that had run a bit short. She also needed to have her man also see about finding more permanent residence. Margaret was rather used to having autonomy in her movements and with so many people around in Dorchester House, she would never truly be private. None of these thoughts appeared on her face, since none of them elicited any true emotional response. They were tasks that needed to be done, but not the main reason she was here. Now, she had a freedom she hadn't thought to have for at least another decade. After all, Sinclair was old when she married him. Older than her father, in fact. But he had been in good health. Ah, but now he was gone. Thoughts of her dead husband easily disappeared from her mind, another completed task. Onward. Taking a deep breathe, she continued on her walk, heading towards the sound of ducks.
  7. Character Sheet Player Profile Name: Shiloh Email: racingheart44@gmail.com Age: 44 How you found us: Previous player What is your background and experience in roleplaying: Multiple previous characters here What themes do you wish to explore in our game: I'm looking at playing a female character who's more interested in the politics and the inherent subterfuge court life requires What makes you excited to do in our game: I'm quite looking forward to stretching dusty writing and storytelling skills. What are you NOT looking for in our game: Not really interested in 'romance' for romance sake. Unless it serves a purpose in raising my character in a political/social sense. Character Profile Character Name: Lady Margaret Sinclair Title: Baronness Sutton Estate Name: Dudley Abbey Nationality: Province of New Amsterdam/New York before marriage Age: 22 Gender: Female Eye Colour: Violet Hair Colour: Blonde Avatar: Meryl Streep, if not already taken The First Impression & Physical Appearance Margaret would never and has never claimed to be a beauty. With a nose less button like and more prominent than fashion dictates and a more squared jaw line, her one facial vanity is her eyes. Of a shade of blue that is more violet in color and thick eyelashes, they stand out against her other features. While her hair is considered blonde, it is just on this side of the lightest brown. Her figure is also not to the current curvaceous standard. Of average height, her slim build and modest bosom (which did fill out somewhat upon her pregnancy, but not by much), it is nothing to really catch the eye of a man. But her bearing, which has been more than once called that of an ice princess, and confidence do get attention. Upon first meeting her, she may appear shy or reticent, as she is not one to easily interact with people. And if someone is very enthusiastic, she will likely attempt to find an escape route. Emotions are not her friend, though she is capable of apeing them, as she has found growing up that is the best way to avoid being watched too closely. That and a keen eye for fashion, which directs the eye away from the coolness of her gaze. She has recently updated her wardrobe with gowns for different occasions. Pastels for everyday wear and rich jewel tones for evening entertainments. She also has a few black and white items tucked away. The black simply because you never know when you might need to attend a funeral. Sinclair frequently purchased high quality gemstones from around the world, using her father's shipping fleet to get them, so quite a few stayed in her personal collection after being set, giving her a trove of items to mix and match. Personality Upon first meeting Margaret, one is given the impression of a well-bred young woman. She is moderate of speech, slightly standoff-ish and perhaps just a touch naive, as anyone who grew up in the Colonies would be expected. In private, Margaret is calculating and curious, always looking for the next bit of information she can gather to use at a most convenient (for herself, of course) time. She is shrewd and not given to flights of passion for a man. His money or position, on the other hand, is of great importance. Wealth Level : Above Average Housing: Dorchester House (though will be looking for somewhere to lease/purchase through her man of affairs) Benefits, Challenges Benefits: Widow, above average wealth, second language (Dutch) Challenges: Accent, dark secret, foreigner, Bad at/Disturbing mannerism-doesn't always react correctly to required emotional response Origin/Background Margaret was born to Edmond Mosher, a second generation American, and Elizabeth Maxam. Mosher owned a large shipping company that he inherited from his father. She was an only child for years and as such, was taught both what a lady would need to know as well as the family business. It wasn't until she was 15 when her mother delivered a healthy baby boy, securing her father an heir to take on the business upon his passing. Margaret was not exactly thrilled with the arrival of her younger brother, Matthew, but there was little to be done of it. She cared for her parents and sibling, but cared more for her own comfort. Thus, when her father told her he had arranged her marriage to his old friend, Arthur Sinclair, Baron Sutton, she didn't fight against it. Sinclair was much older, well into his 60s, when he married Margaret, who was all of 17 at the time. Most girls that age would have railed against their fate, but Margaret had taken in his fashionable and expensive clothing, the second estate he kept just outside of New York, his well matched horses he kept in his colonial stable, and surmised if that was his lifestyle in the wilds of the Colonies, then his English holding must be of even finer quality. If it meant allowing the old man to thrust away for less than a minute before he groaned and rolled off of her, so be it. Sinclair kept putting off their travel to England and thus, on to London, until she nagged him enough that he gave in. On the eve of her 19th birthday, they boarded a ship (one of her father's, of course) and set out to cross the ocean. Upon arriving in England, Margaret was ready to take on London. Unfortunately, she fell pregnant. She found herself stuck in Dorset, her body becoming both an enemy (for really, what good does ejecting food do when you're trying to grow a child?) and an amusement (Sinclair didn't come to bounce on her while her belly expanded). Seven months after arriving in England, Margaret went into labor. It was not an easy one. The baby was turned the wrong way. After 8 hours, they finally got the baby turned, but it was too late. Her daughter had not made it. Sinclair made the mistake of just dismissing the lose of the tiny girl child, since it wasn't the heir he wanted. You see, after having felt distance caring for her parents and brother, Margaret had wholeheartedly love the child in her womb. And to act so callus, it flipped something inside her mind. So, she decided to kill him. Every day, she'd bring him a cup of coffee in his study while he worked. And every day, she gave him arsenic in that cup. Finally, the day she had been waiting for came. Sinclair dropped dead in his study. She watched, making sure he wasn't going to gasp back to life, and finally let out a scream, crying and wailing (dry-eyed). The servants (except for one maid) found her holding his head to her bosom, bent over with sorrow. She had to be given laudenum to calm her. The funeral was held on a rainy day. Many spoke on how the young widow appeared so lost as she watched his coffin being interred into the family mausoleum. She wasn't lost. She was figuring out how long she would have to stay in the country before she could leave for London without causing talk and how much it would cost to live as she preferred. The estate was very wealthy and Sinclair was the last of his line, no other heir left. She had done has she had been raised and done everything she had to do. Now, her life was her own. Time to have some fun. Goals Manage her way into the game of Court and work her way into the intrigue.
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