Cecelia Wynn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inthemoonlight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-03-14 08:42 pm
inthemoonlight) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-03-14 08:42 pm
{ OPEN } it is a truth universally acknowledged
who: Cecelia and OPEN!
what: out and about in the inhabited area
when: March 13-18
where: downtown inhabited area
warnings: n/a
{ at work; march 13th-16th }
Cecelia is fortunate she has some talent that is useful in this place. A young lady's skills were meant to attract a husband and little else, and through unconventional means, she had already obtained that once. The occupation of musician isn't really considered proper for a woman of her station, but her "station" doesn't seem to exist here anyway, so what harm is there in it? It provides her with an income and she enjoys doing it. With so many options for food in Riverview Quarantine, the establishments compete to bring in the customers and one way to do that is through live music. While many young ladies learned the pianoforte, Cecelia's talents lie in the harp. She doesn't have her own here, but her employers provide the instruments for her. The harps are large, pedal harps that she tunes manually before each performance. At restaurants, she is usually seated on a small, raised platform so the diners can see her, where she performs slow, relaxing music, but at the cafes, she is tucked away in a corner or near a large window. It is also in the cafes where she can easily converse with the patrons while playing jolly tunes with a faster pace. Whenever her shift is done and she's leaving the restaurants, she then has time to talk.
{ out shopping; march 17th }
It must be a comical sight, this woman in her Regency dress staring with alarm at a silver sequined mini skirt on a mannequin. She's utterly baffled as to why anyone would wear such a thing. Not only is it far too revealing, but it doesn't even look comfortable. Curiously, she reaches out and touches a sequin, frowning at the texture. It feels terrible! She already knows of a tailor who will make her whatever she requests, but her collection of clothes will be slow to grow as she waits for her next paycheck. Personally tailored clothes cost more than this ready made selection, after all. And so she's just looking to see if anything here can work for her. Perhaps a dressing gown and nightdress? Slippers? Oh, is that a perfume bottle? She wanders over to a perfume counter with testers and picks up a bottle, lifting off the cap and turning it over with a confused look that's becoming standard for her. How is she meant to apply this if the cap is hollow, and not tapered glass to apply the perfumed oil to her wrist? Someone please save her before she sprays perfume into her eye.
{ floor 2; during a power outage; march 18th }
While the loss of electricity may be a big deal to some, for a woman who grew up in a time before electricity or gas lighting, Cecelia is perfectly at ease. Candles provide more than enough light for her, and she's delighted that they smell so pleasant! In her time, candles for the elite were made of beeswax and tallow for the lower classes. She recalls heading downstairs to speak with the head of the household maids and the smell of beef in the air. With the random loss of electric light, Cecelia has stocked up on a plethora of scented candles and has them lit throughout the communal floor, though she's tried to use ones that smell nice together. The kitchen has peaches, the living area an ocean breeze, and the bathroom is sweet pea. She sits next to a window, using what natural light is left in the day plus those blue ocean candles on a nearby table to read a book from the library. She has a lot of history to catch up on, but she's happy to set down the book and chat with whomever comes through.
what: out and about in the inhabited area
when: March 13-18
where: downtown inhabited area
warnings: n/a
{ at work; march 13th-16th }
Cecelia is fortunate she has some talent that is useful in this place. A young lady's skills were meant to attract a husband and little else, and through unconventional means, she had already obtained that once. The occupation of musician isn't really considered proper for a woman of her station, but her "station" doesn't seem to exist here anyway, so what harm is there in it? It provides her with an income and she enjoys doing it. With so many options for food in Riverview Quarantine, the establishments compete to bring in the customers and one way to do that is through live music. While many young ladies learned the pianoforte, Cecelia's talents lie in the harp. She doesn't have her own here, but her employers provide the instruments for her. The harps are large, pedal harps that she tunes manually before each performance. At restaurants, she is usually seated on a small, raised platform so the diners can see her, where she performs slow, relaxing music, but at the cafes, she is tucked away in a corner or near a large window. It is also in the cafes where she can easily converse with the patrons while playing jolly tunes with a faster pace. Whenever her shift is done and she's leaving the restaurants, she then has time to talk.
{ out shopping; march 17th }
It must be a comical sight, this woman in her Regency dress staring with alarm at a silver sequined mini skirt on a mannequin. She's utterly baffled as to why anyone would wear such a thing. Not only is it far too revealing, but it doesn't even look comfortable. Curiously, she reaches out and touches a sequin, frowning at the texture. It feels terrible! She already knows of a tailor who will make her whatever she requests, but her collection of clothes will be slow to grow as she waits for her next paycheck. Personally tailored clothes cost more than this ready made selection, after all. And so she's just looking to see if anything here can work for her. Perhaps a dressing gown and nightdress? Slippers? Oh, is that a perfume bottle? She wanders over to a perfume counter with testers and picks up a bottle, lifting off the cap and turning it over with a confused look that's becoming standard for her. How is she meant to apply this if the cap is hollow, and not tapered glass to apply the perfumed oil to her wrist? Someone please save her before she sprays perfume into her eye.
{ floor 2; during a power outage; march 18th }
While the loss of electricity may be a big deal to some, for a woman who grew up in a time before electricity or gas lighting, Cecelia is perfectly at ease. Candles provide more than enough light for her, and she's delighted that they smell so pleasant! In her time, candles for the elite were made of beeswax and tallow for the lower classes. She recalls heading downstairs to speak with the head of the household maids and the smell of beef in the air. With the random loss of electric light, Cecelia has stocked up on a plethora of scented candles and has them lit throughout the communal floor, though she's tried to use ones that smell nice together. The kitchen has peaches, the living area an ocean breeze, and the bathroom is sweet pea. She sits next to a window, using what natural light is left in the day plus those blue ocean candles on a nearby table to read a book from the library. She has a lot of history to catch up on, but she's happy to set down the book and chat with whomever comes through.
power outage==forgive scott he's an idiot
Still, he's got some downtime between shifts at the power plant trying to get systems back online (there was a big thing about sewage that he did not want to get into in any way, shape, or form), so he's pillaging the second floor kitchen, because the one on the sixth is completely out of peanut butter, which is a damn crime.
He's got a jar of the good stuff--chunky, of course--and is heading back up when he spots her. Huh.
"You...uh, some kind of historical re-enactor or something?" Like those Williamsburg people, in those funny knee britches and wigs?
no subject
"No, I am not." She doesn't even really know what that is, but from the words themselves, she can guess it has to do with re-enacting history. Perhaps like that History Channel Derek spoke of. "I come from a place and time where my style of dress is as you see." She rises from her chair to give the man a curtsy.
"Mrs Cecelia Wynn. A pleasure to meet you, sir."
no subject
"Oh." Yeah, well, ask a stupid question, right? "Well, I mean, it looks good on you." Scott Lang--great talking to the opposite sex!
"Uh, Scott. Lang. Ant-Man." Is he supposed to do that curtsy thing, too? Nah, he'll do that thing he'd do if it was tea with Cassie: a sketchy bow. Thought that counts, right?
no subject
no subject
He gives a sigh, switching the stolen peanut butter from hand to hand. "Yeah, I mean, I'm not one of the big heroes, like Iron Man or Captain America, or anything. I can shrink. A lot." Wow, that sounds lame out loud. "And I can control ants." Better?
no subject
"Why does America only have a captain? I thought it had generals as well." All right, hold on -- control ants? Is this something that traveling circus performers do? "How do you control them?"
no subject
"You know, I never asked why he was a Captain. He just, you know, was. There was a comic book and stuff about him, and everything." Just nothing that explained the rank. "I guess it's better than Private America." Which just sounds like some really boring Netflix documentary on Big Data.
"How?" Oh, he actually has an answer for that! Kind of. "You just sort of think at them, with emotion. They're actually pretty cool. Not great at conversation." As all the babbling he's doing here might hint.