Roof Second Floor Lobby Back Door

Aislin Levell 'ey kid, watcha name? *looks up at the intrusion and blushes a bit* Aislin Levell. Pleased ta meetcha, certainly. *rises hastily and drops a curtsy. She’s somewhat clumsy in the execution but quickly gathers herself and returns to her seat on the bunk. Smiles a bit* What’s yer name? Been blessed wit a newsie nickname yet? *looks at you inquiringly, as if she’s never heard the phrase before* Nickname? No, th’only one who ever called me anything sides Aislin is my brother Matt, an he always called me Ducky. *blushes* He said I waddled when I was little, ‘seems. But I haven’t lived here long enough to get a real nickname. Don’t really care for one at that. Where'd dat come from, anyway? Aislin? ‘Twas a family name, my Grandmother had it, an her Grandmother b’fore that. I think it’s lovely, reminds me of hills and spring and sunrises. *looks out the window dreamily* When's yer birthday? Know how old ya are? *a bit startled* Course I know how old I am! It’s April 22. I’m 16 right now, perfect age, right? *smiles* Matt, he’s 25, an likes ta remind me of the age difference whenever he can. He’s a tyrant, he is! *smiles goofily, obviously completely devoted to serving her brother tyrant in whatever he demands* Whatcha look like? *blushes* Nothin special, really. I’m jus a simple country girl. *smiles delicately, taught to be particularly modest when discussing anything concerning her features. Aislin’s not stunningly beautiful, though neither is she absolutely horrifying. She’s somewhere in between, perhaps slightly leaning toward the more attractive side, though in a quaint, countryish sort of way. Doe-like, crystal blue eyes are her most prized physical possessions, though she’s also rather pleased with her delicate mouth and equally fragile hands. Her jaw line is too marked, however, her nose slightly puggish and a smattering of freckles cover her pale face in a way that’s somewhat disagreeable. She has blond hair of a questionable shade, since it’s always pulled back for practicality, wears coarse, though exquisitely clean country apparel and carries herself with a gentle, ofttimes reserved demeanor, simply waiting for an opportunity to slide into the present company* And wadda ya like, huh? Got mucha a personality? People say I'm real distant, the dreamy type sometimes. I dunno, I just like to think. But why don’t you get to know me an then you can figure out for yourself, right? *smiles* So... where'd ya come from an' watcha doin heah? Hannibal, Missouri. I grew up there. Most beautiful place in all tha world. I miss it, course, all the space and trees and such. *sighes, gazes out the window, forgets the topic altogether. Aislin’s father died in a riverboat accident shortly after her birth, some say more from melancholy than the actual accident since he seemed only a shadow of a man until his fateful incident. Aislin’s mother died in childbirth, an event which stung the poor daughter with guilt even to the present date, and caused Mr. Levell to leave the ministry of which he had devoted his entire life to pursue grief. Some say that the accident was no accident, but deliberately planned by the former preacher, though that’s only speculation. Since she could remember, Aislin was under the care of her father’s generous parish—a widow called Mrs. Tintagel took the infant girl and her brother in after their parents’ demise. Matthew grew up and went to college in St. Louis and intended to follow God’s calling on his life and go into seminary, but promptly returned to Hannibal at the news that his old guardian was on her death bed. Mrs. Tintagel died and Matt left Missouri for good, reluctantly bringing his devoted sister. He hadn’t wanted to expose her to the perils of the big city, but what else was he supposed to do? At the moment he’s attending seminary, though he visits Aislin regularly; he loves her very much and plans to move her out of the lodging house as soon as possible, though thus far none of his efforts seem to be working. It was her decision to live at a lodging house anyway, she so wanted to impress her brother with her independence.* Don't s'ppose ya got any friends, do ya? *startled out of her nostalgia, she turns back to you* What? Friends? Sure. Back home, of course. And Matt and his friends. *wrinkles her nose a bit* They're crazy though, I never understand them. What about a, uh, signifigant othah, hmm? *wink wink nudge nudge* *blushes* None of those. I mean, Matt wouldn’t…I mean, I…ummm, that is...*is flustered and falls silent. What she means to say is that she’s never been allowed to interact with any member of the opposite sex outside of mere fraternal relations, and so is somewhat uncertain how she feels on the subject. Or something like that.* Waddya do 'round heah? *brightens, relieved at the change of subject* I sell papers. And I go to the church ‘round down the street on Sundays, they have a beautiful choir. And I love sitting up on the roof and watching things happen. Have you ever been there? It's wonderful because no one else in the world knows you're there and you can see everything all around.... *falls silent at the wonder of it all* If ya emptied ya pockets right now, what'd be in 'em? *promptly goes through them* Nothin. Some lint, a few strings, oh, a penny! *holds up the treasure for you to see* Anythin' else we oughta know? *smiles* Anythin important? Don’t think so. I told ya I was simple. *picks at the quilt spread over her bunk and gazes dreamily back out the window. Looks back at you for a moment and smiles, her eyes sparkling sincerely* Did you know that cows have seven stomachs! Huh! Never thought it. *returns to her skygazing* Back to the bunkroom