Post by edmund ryder worthington on Jun 20, 2012 14:33:40 GMT -6
[atrb=style,width: 500px; background-color: B9B9B9; border: 10px dashed #754A4A; border-right: 15px solid #754A4A; border-left: 15px solid #754A4A; padding: 5px, bTable][th] ed worthington CEO OF WORTHINGTON HOTEL COOPERATION, CITIZEN, CHACE CRAWFORD | |
 the basics FULL NAME edmund ryder worthington IV AGE & DOB 22 | MAY 12 HOMETOWN VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA ETHNICITY CAUCASIAN LANGUAGES SPOKEN ENGLISH, SPANISH, FRENCH, IRISH, MANDARIN, RUSSIAN, JAPANESE, KOREAN, HINDI, URDU, SINHALESE SEXUAL ORIENTATION straight HAIR COLOR brown EYE COLOR blue HEIGHT & WEIGHT 6'1 | 199lbs DISTINGUISHING MARKS none. | freestyle |
freestyle
Basic mathematics. When you multiply two by two, you get four. The product of nine and sixty seven is six hundred and three. The best advertisement a chain of hotels can get is to have celebrities have a scandal in one. The best way to keep an operation going smoothly is to never trust one man with a job. You divide a job into segments, and assign a specific person to each task. Specialization. We all know it. Before making a change in your company, you calculate the risk potential. Everything can be calculated, these days. I bet my Father's head is worth quite a few million on the market. Not that he's ever been on any mob's wanted list. Not that I know of, anyway. My Father doesn't do black market. He's clean-cut, straight laced. Just like his Father before him. Just like his Grandfather before him. So it's really no surprise that I take after them. The probability of this happening could have been calculated years before I was ever born, years before I was ever thought of. You must find us so predictable and dull. But, bear with me, like every story, this one has a tragedy too. Since you've got me to open up, though, allow me to begin from the start.
I was born in Wales, as the oldest prodigy of Reese and Edmund Worthington the Third. My family had made itself infamous as early as the 1919's, when the first Worthington Hotel was opened by Carlos Worthington in Boston, Massachusetts. It was nothing remarkable, really, but Carlos and his wife were wonderfully hospitable, so that by word of mouth it earned itself a fond reputation. It was Carlos Jr who suggested expanding the business, creating his own hotel when he moved out with his wife to their new place. Back then, they were only dabbling in the business as a hobby, but as generations passed, the business bloomed and expanded in the hands of capable Worthington's, each as reliable and effective as the one before him. As I said, we're clean cut and straight laced.
There has never been a corrupt family member as far as I can recall, but that may be the result of my ancestors keeping the family small. There was never more than one sibling, and that too, if you were lucky enough. As for me, when I was three, a little girl was born who had the fairest of hair and the softest of features. She was angelic. Suffice to say we doted on her. Her face is my earliest memory. For that, I'm glad, even though I find it oddly disconcerting that I don't remember the first two years of my life. No one would expect me to, but I have a pretty good memory, so I guess you could say I'm a little hard on myself. But I'm getting a little sidetracked here. I was talking about my sister. Little Louise, she'd sit in her high chair and chuck her food at me. Sometimes she chucked her poop too, but I was always happy to duck out of the way and sneak out behind her. She'd squeal as I bumped into her, her laughter ringing through the vast hallways. The life she brought to the house was the one thing that made the huge mansion seem smaller, warmer, homelier, now that I think back on it. We liked to run around in across the vast fields that spanned our grounds, it didn't cross our minds then how terribly lonely it was for there to be such a big place with only a handful to enjoy it. Spring was spent beneath the oak tree in the backyard playing dress-up and sipping tea. Summer was spent with roses in our hair and sneezing on daffodils. When autumn came we'd race each other into the pile of leaves the servants had raked up, and come home in dust holding an acorn in our hands which we'd managed to steal from a squirrel.
Winter was my favorite. It was the season of roasted apples and stories beside the fire. it was the time of painting on our bellies, hide and seek in the attic, and building snowman in the backyard. My heart wears a smile at the memory of it, but for a moment only. Then the smile unbalances and stumbles, tripping upside down and spilling forth a plethora of anguish into my heart. It was winter when Louise caught the cold. We thought she'd get better, she was only four, after all. I teased and toyed and played with her like nothing was wrong, but then weeks turned into months and it was apparent she wasn't getting any better. Little Louise lost so much flesh, she became a bag of bones and skin. My parents didn't break the news to me till it was apparent she was never getting any better - and then the days spent at her bedside became dreary, weary. I felt guilty sitting there knowing cancer was robbing my sister of her life and I was still healthy, I was still breathing. It seemed unfair, and she was so much younger than me. I wanted her to have the life, I wanted to see those cheeks grow rosy and smile, I wanted her to stop whimpering from the pain. My Father invested dollars, millions, into finding a cure for it, because we'd been told her form of cancer was untreatable. To this day, I still donate a charitable amount to all cancer research, because I don't wish any other family to go through the torment that mine did that following winter when the last breath left Louise's body.
I remember looking up at the sky and thinking how damning it was, losing someone you love. How hopeless I'd felt watching her fade away from the world, still haunts me.
My Father must have known the mansion and the country would now be riddled by ghosts that flitted in and out of our nightmares, because a few months later we moved. We came to Valkyrie, California, just in time for Worthington Hotel of Valkyrie to be inaugurated. I wore a suit, the first time I'd worn one since Louise's funeral, and was taken to the ceremony. It was the first time my Father broke it to me that I would one day take over his business. I looked across the masses of elegant guests dressed in their best attire, socializing amongst each other, the class and elegance in the atmosphere - and I knew this was what I'd been born to do. In a way, I was a little glad to know I had a purpose in life. I'd take over my Father's business, just as it had been handed down for generations, and I would keep it operating smoothly and expand it as I saw fit, but I knew that for me to achieve that, I had to make something of myself.
So I became passionate about my studies. To be honest, I'd never really minded school or studying, but I'm talking about a passion that kept me at the top of the class all throughout my academic life. I was hard-working and driven, determined to be worthy of the Worthington title that would be passed on to me. I didn't make friends off the bat - maybe because I was new to Valkyrie, or because I'd lost the person dearest to me, I was hesitant to be the first to introduce myself or make the effort. But still, I managed to be a star in school, the type of person others gravitated towards, because I cannot remember a time when I was not surrounded by a crowd or another. At first it was the boys that I played soccer with during recess that stuck to me, but as we moved on from Middle to High School it was the jocks and the cheerleaders and the hipsters. To be honest, I never really had a clique, though the fact that I played sports and was good at it placed me in the jocks squad automatically - point being, I was popular. I lived the all american boy dream.
But I couldn't escape the fact that there was something missing. True, I could fit in with any crowd, have a wonderful time and even had my share of best buddies, I was different. Not only did I achieve top marks, but since the death of Louise I'd started playing the piano, and I was good at it. Most of my ballads were sad, but I liked to spent hours in the room with my piano, alone and lonely. I think my Mother often used to sit at the door to listen, because I found her there once, but she swore it was the only time, maybe because she doesn't want to interfere in something that I considered solely mine to enjoy. I had another hobby, I was passionate about books - I would go to second-hand bookstores and buy books and store them up in an empty room in our empty mansion, and call it my life's library. I like the company of the people I couldn't see, and they kept me from feeling melancholy. So yes, I was a little sad and a little lost, but no one ever caught up on it because I was still living the dream of an all american boy.
There were girls I was infatuated by, there were girls I was attracted to, there were nerds who's company I was very turned on by and cheerleaders who'd willingly give me the pleasure of their bodies, but looking back, they're all a blur of multicolor now. The one face that stands out is someone I was probably a little in love with, a guy's girl who never grasped how damning and infuriating her confidence and exuberance was. She could fix cars and play softball, and I was completely at ease in her company. She didn't put up airs, she was unapologetically who she was, and it was intoxicating. I never intended to make a move on her, though, she was so ethereal and beautiful it was enough just to be in her company - Shiloh Elizabeth Lawson, I've never forgotten her name or her face. But in our teenage wasteland, we did somehow end up getting together - the details are hazy in a wave of euphoria and happiness, because honestly, the high I got off from kissing that girl once probably beats any experience I could get from doing drugs. I was completely head-over-heels in like with her, and I would have told her so. I was intending to, to make us more than just another brief high school affair you move on from.
But then circumstances got in the way. When she broke it off, I understood, because I know the sense of desolate hopelessness that comes from losing someone you love. I'd have loved to be there for her though, I'd have loved to be the shoulder she could weep on and the hands that patted her head and the voice that told her it'd be okay, but she was left the country. I worried, I wrote to her, letters I never sent because I didn't know her address in Australia. But, life goes on. I was left behind but I didn't intend on losing sense of who I was or losing sense of what I had to become. I graduated top of the class. I landed a placement in Harvard, a scholarship that made only made my parents smile and tell me how they always knew I could accomplish it, and so I went to spend the next few years in college.
It must have been the most productive years of my life. When I wasn't studying for exams, I mastered other languages - mostly because my Father insisted that the Chinese would become the most powerful in the First World, and so it was necessary to learn Mandarin. But I was curious about other languages too, so I picked them up along the way. I even composed and played a piano piece that grabbed the attention of a famous pianist, an accomplishment I'm proud of. I stayed up nights doing papers when others were out partying. I even dabbled in arts for a while, trying out painting and abstract methods till I gave up because I was hopeless at it.
I fell in love. It was love at first sight, with a wonderful brazen intoxicating and rebellious girl called Annaleise Evans. I loved her name. I loved the way she wore her hair and the way she slurred her S's. I loved the way she'd stroke my feet under the table and the beautiful words and poetry she pouted out. She had a gift with words and she had a gift with music. To me, she was a walking poem, completely irresistible. I could have taken that fall with my eyes closed, so blindly did I love her. And she loved me, too. She told me she'd thought College would be an experience, of making mistakes and regretting it, yet she'd only come to find the perfect man for her in College. So much for making mistakes, between the both of us, we never made any. It was happy and blissful of wonderful, naturally leading to matrimony. It was the happiest day of my life, seeing her walking towards me in that soft satin wedding dress on her Father's arms, and feeling how proud my Father was beside me. We moved to Valkyrie. I came into my inheritence, and my Father decided that it was time Mother and he went travelling. He had done his part for the business, and brought up a son who could shoulder the responsibility, so taking his due leave, he and Mother left travelling. Annaleise and I were ecstatic. We were a family, living together, and we believed in happily ever afters.
How foolish. A plane crash stole her life. She was flying in to meet me after vacationing with her parents, I was at the airport when the aeroplane experienced a technical glitch and stumbled down. There'd only been two casualties. It was a good thing, they said, most of the passengers were safe. Did they not see that I'd lost my world in that plane crash, that it wasn't just two casualties, it was somebody's world breaking in half? How do I even begin to describe the extend of my sorrow? How do I even begin to explain the temptation to stray, to abuse substance, to lose myself? Yet I knew I owed the man who'd brought me up, and so when I wanted to spiral out of control the most, I threw myself into the business. I know my Father would have understood if I took a break, but I do not want to, I'm afraid of what I'd see if left alone to my devices and being forced to face myself. It's easier, this escapist plan I have for myself through work. She haunts my nightmares - they haunt my nightmares, and its the most terrible thing in the world, to be left in the world when the ones you love and the ones who loved you die.
I was born in Wales, as the oldest prodigy of Reese and Edmund Worthington the Third. My family had made itself infamous as early as the 1919's, when the first Worthington Hotel was opened by Carlos Worthington in Boston, Massachusetts. It was nothing remarkable, really, but Carlos and his wife were wonderfully hospitable, so that by word of mouth it earned itself a fond reputation. It was Carlos Jr who suggested expanding the business, creating his own hotel when he moved out with his wife to their new place. Back then, they were only dabbling in the business as a hobby, but as generations passed, the business bloomed and expanded in the hands of capable Worthington's, each as reliable and effective as the one before him. As I said, we're clean cut and straight laced.
There has never been a corrupt family member as far as I can recall, but that may be the result of my ancestors keeping the family small. There was never more than one sibling, and that too, if you were lucky enough. As for me, when I was three, a little girl was born who had the fairest of hair and the softest of features. She was angelic. Suffice to say we doted on her. Her face is my earliest memory. For that, I'm glad, even though I find it oddly disconcerting that I don't remember the first two years of my life. No one would expect me to, but I have a pretty good memory, so I guess you could say I'm a little hard on myself. But I'm getting a little sidetracked here. I was talking about my sister. Little Louise, she'd sit in her high chair and chuck her food at me. Sometimes she chucked her poop too, but I was always happy to duck out of the way and sneak out behind her. She'd squeal as I bumped into her, her laughter ringing through the vast hallways. The life she brought to the house was the one thing that made the huge mansion seem smaller, warmer, homelier, now that I think back on it. We liked to run around in across the vast fields that spanned our grounds, it didn't cross our minds then how terribly lonely it was for there to be such a big place with only a handful to enjoy it. Spring was spent beneath the oak tree in the backyard playing dress-up and sipping tea. Summer was spent with roses in our hair and sneezing on daffodils. When autumn came we'd race each other into the pile of leaves the servants had raked up, and come home in dust holding an acorn in our hands which we'd managed to steal from a squirrel.
Winter was my favorite. It was the season of roasted apples and stories beside the fire. it was the time of painting on our bellies, hide and seek in the attic, and building snowman in the backyard. My heart wears a smile at the memory of it, but for a moment only. Then the smile unbalances and stumbles, tripping upside down and spilling forth a plethora of anguish into my heart. It was winter when Louise caught the cold. We thought she'd get better, she was only four, after all. I teased and toyed and played with her like nothing was wrong, but then weeks turned into months and it was apparent she wasn't getting any better. Little Louise lost so much flesh, she became a bag of bones and skin. My parents didn't break the news to me till it was apparent she was never getting any better - and then the days spent at her bedside became dreary, weary. I felt guilty sitting there knowing cancer was robbing my sister of her life and I was still healthy, I was still breathing. It seemed unfair, and she was so much younger than me. I wanted her to have the life, I wanted to see those cheeks grow rosy and smile, I wanted her to stop whimpering from the pain. My Father invested dollars, millions, into finding a cure for it, because we'd been told her form of cancer was untreatable. To this day, I still donate a charitable amount to all cancer research, because I don't wish any other family to go through the torment that mine did that following winter when the last breath left Louise's body.
I remember looking up at the sky and thinking how damning it was, losing someone you love. How hopeless I'd felt watching her fade away from the world, still haunts me.
My Father must have known the mansion and the country would now be riddled by ghosts that flitted in and out of our nightmares, because a few months later we moved. We came to Valkyrie, California, just in time for Worthington Hotel of Valkyrie to be inaugurated. I wore a suit, the first time I'd worn one since Louise's funeral, and was taken to the ceremony. It was the first time my Father broke it to me that I would one day take over his business. I looked across the masses of elegant guests dressed in their best attire, socializing amongst each other, the class and elegance in the atmosphere - and I knew this was what I'd been born to do. In a way, I was a little glad to know I had a purpose in life. I'd take over my Father's business, just as it had been handed down for generations, and I would keep it operating smoothly and expand it as I saw fit, but I knew that for me to achieve that, I had to make something of myself.
So I became passionate about my studies. To be honest, I'd never really minded school or studying, but I'm talking about a passion that kept me at the top of the class all throughout my academic life. I was hard-working and driven, determined to be worthy of the Worthington title that would be passed on to me. I didn't make friends off the bat - maybe because I was new to Valkyrie, or because I'd lost the person dearest to me, I was hesitant to be the first to introduce myself or make the effort. But still, I managed to be a star in school, the type of person others gravitated towards, because I cannot remember a time when I was not surrounded by a crowd or another. At first it was the boys that I played soccer with during recess that stuck to me, but as we moved on from Middle to High School it was the jocks and the cheerleaders and the hipsters. To be honest, I never really had a clique, though the fact that I played sports and was good at it placed me in the jocks squad automatically - point being, I was popular. I lived the all american boy dream.
But I couldn't escape the fact that there was something missing. True, I could fit in with any crowd, have a wonderful time and even had my share of best buddies, I was different. Not only did I achieve top marks, but since the death of Louise I'd started playing the piano, and I was good at it. Most of my ballads were sad, but I liked to spent hours in the room with my piano, alone and lonely. I think my Mother often used to sit at the door to listen, because I found her there once, but she swore it was the only time, maybe because she doesn't want to interfere in something that I considered solely mine to enjoy. I had another hobby, I was passionate about books - I would go to second-hand bookstores and buy books and store them up in an empty room in our empty mansion, and call it my life's library. I like the company of the people I couldn't see, and they kept me from feeling melancholy. So yes, I was a little sad and a little lost, but no one ever caught up on it because I was still living the dream of an all american boy.
There were girls I was infatuated by, there were girls I was attracted to, there were nerds who's company I was very turned on by and cheerleaders who'd willingly give me the pleasure of their bodies, but looking back, they're all a blur of multicolor now. The one face that stands out is someone I was probably a little in love with, a guy's girl who never grasped how damning and infuriating her confidence and exuberance was. She could fix cars and play softball, and I was completely at ease in her company. She didn't put up airs, she was unapologetically who she was, and it was intoxicating. I never intended to make a move on her, though, she was so ethereal and beautiful it was enough just to be in her company - Shiloh Elizabeth Lawson, I've never forgotten her name or her face. But in our teenage wasteland, we did somehow end up getting together - the details are hazy in a wave of euphoria and happiness, because honestly, the high I got off from kissing that girl once probably beats any experience I could get from doing drugs. I was completely head-over-heels in like with her, and I would have told her so. I was intending to, to make us more than just another brief high school affair you move on from.
But then circumstances got in the way. When she broke it off, I understood, because I know the sense of desolate hopelessness that comes from losing someone you love. I'd have loved to be there for her though, I'd have loved to be the shoulder she could weep on and the hands that patted her head and the voice that told her it'd be okay, but she was left the country. I worried, I wrote to her, letters I never sent because I didn't know her address in Australia. But, life goes on. I was left behind but I didn't intend on losing sense of who I was or losing sense of what I had to become. I graduated top of the class. I landed a placement in Harvard, a scholarship that made only made my parents smile and tell me how they always knew I could accomplish it, and so I went to spend the next few years in college.
It must have been the most productive years of my life. When I wasn't studying for exams, I mastered other languages - mostly because my Father insisted that the Chinese would become the most powerful in the First World, and so it was necessary to learn Mandarin. But I was curious about other languages too, so I picked them up along the way. I even composed and played a piano piece that grabbed the attention of a famous pianist, an accomplishment I'm proud of. I stayed up nights doing papers when others were out partying. I even dabbled in arts for a while, trying out painting and abstract methods till I gave up because I was hopeless at it.
I fell in love. It was love at first sight, with a wonderful brazen intoxicating and rebellious girl called Annaleise Evans. I loved her name. I loved the way she wore her hair and the way she slurred her S's. I loved the way she'd stroke my feet under the table and the beautiful words and poetry she pouted out. She had a gift with words and she had a gift with music. To me, she was a walking poem, completely irresistible. I could have taken that fall with my eyes closed, so blindly did I love her. And she loved me, too. She told me she'd thought College would be an experience, of making mistakes and regretting it, yet she'd only come to find the perfect man for her in College. So much for making mistakes, between the both of us, we never made any. It was happy and blissful of wonderful, naturally leading to matrimony. It was the happiest day of my life, seeing her walking towards me in that soft satin wedding dress on her Father's arms, and feeling how proud my Father was beside me. We moved to Valkyrie. I came into my inheritence, and my Father decided that it was time Mother and he went travelling. He had done his part for the business, and brought up a son who could shoulder the responsibility, so taking his due leave, he and Mother left travelling. Annaleise and I were ecstatic. We were a family, living together, and we believed in happily ever afters.
How foolish. A plane crash stole her life. She was flying in to meet me after vacationing with her parents, I was at the airport when the aeroplane experienced a technical glitch and stumbled down. There'd only been two casualties. It was a good thing, they said, most of the passengers were safe. Did they not see that I'd lost my world in that plane crash, that it wasn't just two casualties, it was somebody's world breaking in half? How do I even begin to describe the extend of my sorrow? How do I even begin to explain the temptation to stray, to abuse substance, to lose myself? Yet I knew I owed the man who'd brought me up, and so when I wanted to spiral out of control the most, I threw myself into the business. I know my Father would have understood if I took a break, but I do not want to, I'm afraid of what I'd see if left alone to my devices and being forced to face myself. It's easier, this escapist plan I have for myself through work. She haunts my nightmares - they haunt my nightmares, and its the most terrible thing in the world, to be left in the world when the ones you love and the ones who loved you die.
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the player
ALIAS lola.
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE plenty.
OTHER CHARACTERS josie dixon.
HOW'D YOU FIND US? irrelevant, i'm here now. <3
RP SAMPLE
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE plenty.
OTHER CHARACTERS josie dixon.
HOW'D YOU FIND US? irrelevant, i'm here now. <3
RP SAMPLE
see josie's.
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