Merry Christmas, you filthy animal. ( WINTER WONDERLAND BALL )
[ Darlene remembers Christmas time in New York. Lights strung up everywhere, making the already blinding city even more of a shining beacon to passing planes. The rush of tourist coming to the big apple to visit family and friends, or to simply say that they were in the big city for some of the season. The throngs of shoppers that she had to fight through just to get >anywhere.
Needless to say, it wasn’t one of Darlene’s favorite times of the year.
But, partying has always been something that's relevant to her interests, even if it comes in the form of holiday-themed festivities — not to mention, she’s got a secret santa present to drop off, giving her all the more of a reason to attend the festive shindig.
Darlene spends most of the evening sticking close to the bar, sipping on various holiday-themed cocktails and indulging in the variety of foods that are laid out buffet-style for the party guests to enjoy. But as the night continues on, she ventures a little further from that spot; allowing herself to be henna tattooed by one of the various Xistentia residents, attempting to join in one of the many games that are being played (many of which have to be explained to her a few times before she catches on, thanks to her slightly sluggish, liquor hazed brain.), and possibly evening getting drunk enough to do a little Christmas carol karaoke.
(No promises that she’ll always be on key, though.) ]
.... What fresh hell is this? ( WELCOME TO WHOVILLE )
[ It’s no surprise that Darlene Alderson doesn’t fit in with the rest of the folks of Whoville. They seem to be a perpetually happy sort of people — even in their slightly downtrodden state with Christmas hanging in the balance, they still seem infectiously chipper — and Darlene is likely the furthest thing from that.
Especially considering she’s now up to her calves in snow (which were only covered by a thin pair of black tights), freezing with nothing more than an oversized sweatshirt belonging to her brother to combat the chilly air, and without the drink she’d only just gotten before a hairy green monster snatched her up. ]
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
[ Darlene kicks a pile of snow frustratedly before starting to venture further into the oddly shaped and overly decorated town, arms crossed over her chest as she rubs at her arms in an attempt to warm herself up. ]
You'll shoot your eye out, kid. ( BECOMING A WHO )
[ Darlene spends most of her time in Whoville at the small cinema, typically seated in the far back of the theater, complaining loudly about the movie selection and generally being a pain in her fellow moviegoer's asses.
When she’s not taking in cinematic masterpieces, however, she can be found wandering Whoville rather aimlessly. A bit boredly, even, the lack of most modern technology has her feeling out of place, disconnected in an age where she feels like she’s always plugged into something.
A cell phone, a laptop, a daemon. Now there’s nothing. An empty space. A something that’s missing. But, in a true Darlene fashion, she pushes it down and hides it under a resting bitch face, snarky and borderline rude commentary, and a brick wall of a somewhat abrasive personality. ]
( WILDCARD )
got something else up your sleeve? throw it my way, or give me a ping at unnideul if you want to discuss something. will match styles, or provide starts.
Darlene Alderson | OTA
[ Darlene remembers Christmas time in New York. Lights strung up everywhere, making the already blinding city even more of a shining beacon to passing planes. The rush of tourist coming to the big apple to visit family and friends, or to simply say that they were in the big city for some of the season. The throngs of shoppers that she had to fight through just to get >anywhere.
Needless to say, it wasn’t one of Darlene’s favorite times of the year.
But, partying has always been something that's relevant to her interests, even if it comes in the form of holiday-themed festivities — not to mention, she’s got a secret santa present to drop off, giving her all the more of a reason to attend the festive shindig.
Darlene spends most of the evening sticking close to the bar, sipping on various holiday-themed cocktails and indulging in the variety of foods that are laid out buffet-style for the party guests to enjoy. But as the night continues on, she ventures a little further from that spot; allowing herself to be henna tattooed by one of the various Xistentia residents, attempting to join in one of the many games that are being played (many of which have to be explained to her a few times before she catches on, thanks to her slightly sluggish, liquor hazed brain.), and possibly evening getting drunk enough to do a little Christmas carol karaoke.
(No promises that she’ll always be on key, though.) ]
[ It’s no surprise that Darlene Alderson doesn’t fit in with the rest of the folks of Whoville. They seem to be a perpetually happy sort of people — even in their slightly downtrodden state with Christmas hanging in the balance, they still seem infectiously chipper — and Darlene is likely the furthest thing from that.
Especially considering she’s now up to her calves in snow (which were only covered by a thin pair of black tights), freezing with nothing more than an oversized sweatshirt belonging to her brother to combat the chilly air, and without the drink she’d only just gotten before a hairy green monster snatched her up. ]
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
[ Darlene kicks a pile of snow frustratedly before starting to venture further into the oddly shaped and overly decorated town, arms crossed over her chest as she rubs at her arms in an attempt to warm herself up. ]
[ Darlene spends most of her time in Whoville at the small cinema, typically seated in the far back of the theater, complaining loudly about the movie selection and generally being a pain in her fellow moviegoer's asses.
When she’s not taking in cinematic masterpieces, however, she can be found wandering Whoville rather aimlessly. A bit boredly, even, the lack of most modern technology has her feeling out of place, disconnected in an age where she feels like she’s always plugged into something.
A cell phone, a laptop, a daemon. Now there’s nothing. An empty space. A something that’s missing. But, in a true Darlene fashion, she pushes it down and hides it under a resting bitch face, snarky and borderline rude commentary, and a brick wall of a somewhat abrasive personality. ]
got something else up your sleeve? throw it my way, or give me a ping at