ROLEPLAY HQ - order-in-chaos

buzz buzz A slow groan eminated from the heaped bedsheets on the single bed alongside the buzzing cell phone. buzz buzz. Her slender hand reached out from the covers, thrashing at the source of disturbance a few times. buzz buzz. Failing to silence it, the hand swept backwards along the top of the bedside table, sending the cell phone, alongside a glass of water, flying to the floor. The glass of water emptied its contents across the hard wooden floor before hitting with a loud clunk, vibrating then rolling its way gradually underneath the bedframe. The phone bounced a few times, coming to rest at the foot end of the bed. buzz buzz. Another groan, and slowly the heaped bedsheets rose, before falling away from the figure beneath. Sylvie blinked slowly to clear her blurry eyes, reaching her hand up to wipe across them as she yawned loudly. Her vibrant red hair sat like a birds nest atop her head, tangled with strands pointing in all sorts of directions. Make-up was smudged across her face, red lipstick smeared up her cheek while her black eyeliner had pooled into panda-like circles around her eye sockets, smudged up into her brow at the bridge of her nose. Stretching forwards, Sylvie reached her arms around her knees hugging them to her a second as her vision finally adjusted to the light in the room. buzz buzz "Oh my god!" she screeched loudly in response to the buzzing, finaly throwing herself across the length of the bed to reach down to the resting position of her phone. Grabbing the device she jabbed her index finger at the mute button firmly, 2, 3 times before tossing the phone back onto the bed. Her body slumped where she was laying, face down into the bedding as she let out a small groan of regret... perhaps those celebratory drinks the night before the first day of her internship wasn't the best idea after all. It took an hour, but finally, standing in front of the mirror Sylvie looked worlds different to her morning appearance. Her long red

04:11

hair was washed, dried and brushed to fall loosely around her shoulders, her hazel eyes decorated with a soft peach shadow and sharp flicked eyeliner and her lips painted in a velvet red. She smoothed the loose, blank tank top she wore down over her figure, plucking at the hem of her herringbone skirt as she analyses every inch of her appearance in the reflection looking back at her. The museum had been rather vague on the dress code that she could remember... or maybe her memory had glossed over that part of the conversation. Content, Sylvie reached out for her bag resting on the edge of the bed, scooping it up along with her cell phone which she cast a brief glance at to check the time before throwing it into the bag. She was cutting it fine... but the city busses usually ran late anyway so it wasn't much of a concern for her as she headed out, calling a hasty good morning to one of her roommates who had just emerged from their own bedroom before she closed the front door to the flat behind her.

04:12

The weather was bright and clear for her early morning walk to the bus stop, for which she was grateful of. Rooting in her bag she fished out the gold rimmed, circular sunglasses she had packed previously, flicking them to open before placing them over her eyes. Rounding the corner she caught glance of her bus... just pulling away from the bus stop. "Wait! Oh...." She had started running before the bus turned a corner and out of sight again, causing Sylvie to start cursing under her breath in french. Kicking a stone, she watched as it pinged off the bus stop sign before moving to slouch into a bench and wait the next bus. It was just her luck that the one day she had bargained on the bus being late it would be running perfectly on time. 30 minutes late for her first day, Sylvie finally arrived outside the National History Museum. She peered up at the looming building before her before start to ascend the steps. There were few people mulling around outside the building already, enjoying the sunshine, chatting and laughing in their small gathered groups. Pushing into the lobby, Sylvie grinned as she took in the high cielings and general scent of antiquities that the museum had. Her eyes gazed around, taking in what she could before seeking out a member of staff to get herself checked in. She shrugged her back up on her shoulder a little more, smiling bright to the individual as she approached. "Bonjour! I am Sylvie Moreau, I'm here to see... uhh..." she paused, before reaching to dig through her bag for a scrunched up piece of paper. Unfolding the A4 invitation she scanned through the letter for the name. "Ludgar Orvar? I'm here for my Summer Internship."

04:12

@zerome1295

Ludgar didn't know who had thought that he needed an intern, but who ever it was, they were lucky that he usually wasn't a person looking for confrontation. Because if he had been, he would have certainly told them how much he disliked this arrangement. He hadn't even been consulted beforehand. They probably had, though he would say 'no' no matter what, which was true. He would have considered it, but there wouldn't be a single person on this planet that would be able to meet even his lowest expectations. How was he supposed to deal with them? Ludgar didn't even have time to plan ahead, because he had just been told this crucial information yesterday, right before he had left his workplace to go home. What were they supposed to do? He certainly couldn't let them handle the antiquities or art pieces! The whole night he had pondered over this question, losing precious hours of sleep lying awake and thinking. No right answer had emerged, and his problem also hadn't vanished into thin air. It had stayed the same even the next morning. The short résumé still laid on his countertop where he had neatly placed it yesterday. Ludgar had hoped it had just been a dream, but it hadn't. And if it was, it was his worst nightmare. Trying his best to keep some semblance of normality, he had started his day like he always did. Getting up early, taking a cold shower, getting dressed and ready to leave for work, before he enjoyed the last half an hour to drink a cup of coffee and read the newspaper. He left right on time like usually, planning ahead for a potential traffic yam. Normally he avoided the streets that most people took, but one could never be too much prepared. He felt better if he arrived early rather than too late. It was simply a personal preference. And the building was much quieter in the early morning hours. No one was particularly excited to be the first there, besides him, and most didn't arrive until shortly before they opened their doors.