A slender woman a bit over six feet tall dressed in severe and yet strangely fashionable black clothing stands at the door to the Headmaster’s office, staring down at you with an almost baleful expression. She is beyond pale, chalky white with white hair pulled into a pony-tail tied with black leather strips in a sort of horn of hair, the strips ends drape down a few inches, silver lozenges with red crystals in them glittering. Her eyes are pink, her lips match perfectly as does the slightly pink rim around her eyes that could be eyeliner but looks too moist and real to be an affectation.
She wears a high necked black cadet-style sleeveless tunic with silver buttons that seems to have been tailored for her, cupping and accentuating her modest bust yet covering it completely, for modesty. The effect, however, is anything but. The jacket hugs her all the way to the tops of her hips where a flat black leather strap seems to hug her and cover the top of a long black broom-skirt made of a heavy material that comes to just an inch from the floor. Her sleeves are a loose crimson satin that come down to her forearms where leather belts fasten with silver buttons that match her cadet tunic perfectly, lining the underside of each.
Her jewelry is understated, three small black pearl studs in each ear, to in the fleshy lobe and one each high in the cartilage and a single gold wedding band on her left ring finger that appears quite old and well-worn. Her nails remain unpainted but well-kept and she seems between mid-twenties and mid-thirties.
The receptionist and secretary, “Bubbles”, has been entertaining you while she navigates her keyboard and her two touch-screen monitors. Easily alternating between her tasks while all the while keeping up a string of information and humorous nonsense, Bubbles industry is only occasionally paused with one finger as she taps her Bluetooth device and answers the Academy’s lines and routes calls to the appropriate departments. Her clothing was also black, though with gray accents, her skin so dark black she had to hair from a sun-Saharan region yet her facial features and hair seemed patrician, with her honey-colored eyes and ready smile, generous lips and her coppery curly naturally red hair. Her outfit consisted of a sort of black leather bolero that came all the way down to her wrists, a charcoal gray cashmere turtleneck and a pair of crisp black slacks with old 19th-century style laced ladies boots. Her hair was worn loose; she wore no rings on her fingers and only a ring in each lobe, though she had a tiny gold chain connecting her right earlobe hoop to her right nostril where a small ring lay.
“Welcome to Stark Academy,” the tall pale woman said, her picture had been in the hall on the way in but you hadn’t really seen it very well, since it was at the far end of a somewhat dim and gloomy hall. “I am Headmistress Jericho Stark,” her fingers were laced in front of her to keep her hands in place. If she was given to fidgeting, this was not a woman who ever let that show in front of clients. “As Bubbles has no doubt explained, it’s the end of semester and we’re quite busy with classes and exams and preparing for graduation for those that will be moving on from here into their prestigious collegiate or university placements. Unlike most private Academy, the Headmaster at Stark actually is quite busy and I am shortly required in a video conference with the Dean of Admissions at Harvard to ensure that she has personally looked over the records and found them acceptable of the six I’m sending her this year. In the meantime, Bubbles will arrange for one of our Orphans to give you a tour and explain all the points of interest you might have while she draws up all the necessary documents, should you decide…”
Her words droned off and somehow you took that tour, found the young woman who gave you the tour and all of your answers quite delightful and you were thrilled to have your troublesome spoiled brat teen off your hands and out of the hair of the local authorities for the rest of her high school career.
You only considered, as you departed, what could life be like for a ward of the Academy, an orphan who lived and worked and took classes with the paying students… and then that thought too just evaporated.
Welcome to Orphans, a sim based in an original world where the writers themselves are building the content and drive the stories. You character is an Orphan, not a student of paying customers and as such, your life is very different. Its not a terrible life but its different, one where the rather unusual staff and the rather unusual Headmistress seem to be raising you with a different set of values and skills than their rich, indolent, paying students.
Latest News Items
Posted on Sun Apr 7th, 2013 @ 4:31pm by Fae of Fire Cat Random in General News
This sim is currently on hiatus. We have lost a dear friend and brilliant mind. At this time we do not know when we will be back. Our hearts go out to the family and other friends of Shayne. We will miss him dearly.
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