Grimoire Gaming

Strings

Character 2/2

Zoey “Cherry Cola” Soda

21 ● female ● pansexual

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summary

A recent college graduate who hopes to exotically dance her way to the west coast to become a famous A-lister actress.

brief history

The Soda family moved to United States from Fuchu, Japan when Zoey was still growing inside of her mother. Haruo Soda, Zoey’s father, worked as a polymer chemist for the plastics division of Bayer — now Covestro — and was relocated to a plant in central Massachusetts. The Soda’s were more than happy to move to America and raise their first and only daughter in this country, so that she might live out her own version of The American Dream.

Zoey might have been raised in America, but she was raised Japanese. She learned her native language as well as English before entering kindergarten, and she grew up with a fondness and appreciation for Japanese culture, cuisine, and beliefs. Zoey excelled in school, as was expected by her parents, and when they allowed her to pick one extracurricular activity, she chose dance. Zoey never felt more alive than when she was on stage, with all eyes on her.

The young girl’s passion for dance started with ballet, but as she grew older, Zoey branched out into other styles. Styles that her parents didn’t always approve of, styles unbefitting for a ballet recital. As a teenager, Zoey’s body blossomed into that of a young woman, and Zoey embraced this. She rather enjoyed being watched and adored, and she decided that she wanted to make a career of it, as an actress. Hollywood needed more asian representation, especially females, so that little girls like she once was could see themselves represented in television and movies.

Zoey moved to the coast to attend college at Boston University, where she studied for a BFA in acting and a minor in dance. While attending university, Zoey met the first string in her life — a lovely fellow japanese-american student named Emily that was a couple years her senior, but nonetheless connected to her by a sage green thread. The girls bonded instantly over their shared love of bubble tea and sushi. Throughout their college years, they helped each other — Zoey teaching Emily to branch out, try new things, and grow in her social life, and Emily teaching Zoey to be more grounded, and to further get in touch with her roots.

Following her college graduation, Zoey chose to move in with her best friend, rather than move back home with her parents in central Massachusetts. Zoey immediately began job hunting, with the goal to save up enough money to eventually move to Hollywood. On this job search, Zoey met her second green string in the form of her now-employer, Tate Paxton. Tate has a certain eye for talent, and Zoey is nothing if not talented on the stage. Of course, this new stage involved far less clothing, and dancing that her parents definitely wouldn’t approve of. But they didn’t need to know about Cherry Cola, Zoey’s stage persona. Cherry Cola — a purposeful pun on her own last name — was Zoey’s own dirty little secret, and a top earning name at IMPULSE. When Zoey isn’t raking in the big bucks at the adult nightclub, she spends her days working her second job as a waitress at Oishi Sushi, alongside her bestie that is studying as an apprentice there.

Zoey is well aware of the red string tied to her pinky finger, but she pays it very little mind. The green strings matter far more to her than any red string ever could. Love is messy, and could stand in the way of her dreams to see her name in lights one day. Lights that aren’t at a strip club, that is.

strings

⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓔𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓞𝓰𝓪𝔀𝓪⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Best friend, roomie, and platonic soulmate! It’s a bit of a secret, but I hope to convince her to move out to the west coast with me, because I don’t think I could ever leave her behind.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓣𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓟𝓪𝔁𝓽𝓸𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{The best boss a girl could ask for. He gave me a chance, and now I’m making more than most recent college grads in Boston. The best part is how safe he keeps us girls, I know Tate will always have my back if a guy tries to get too handsy.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{My favorite customer, I sure do love their tips… among other things.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}

other information

dialogue colour: 72353D
Faceclaim: Anna Akana
theme song: “I Want You” — Savage Garden

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Strings

Character 1/2

Patricia "Tish" Webber

25 ● female ● lesbian

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summary

A spunky, energetic woman with a deep love for art, entertainment, animals, and people.

brief history

Tish was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up in the same school district where she met her life-long best friend, Tate. The pair became fast friends and even wound up having a middle-school crush on the same girl. Tate didn’t know that at the time, though. Tish was closeted until she was fourteen and Tate was one of the first people that she came out to. This was also the age when she decided to stop giving a shit about what people thought about her: she started wearing whatever she wanted, picked up some bad habits, dyed her hair black, and openly dated girls.

Patricia’s father, Frank Webber, was and is a hot-blooded American and her mother, Regina, was an immigrant from Brighton. Her grandparents still live in the UK, Tish has only met them a few times, back when she was very young. Frank is a business professor at Boston University, and he raised Tish as a loving single father when breast cancer took his wife. Tish has some distant family in other states, and countries, but she is only really close to her dad.

Tish was eight years old when her mom died, which she took hard at the time, but this was just a passing cloud over the vibrant sun that has been burning within Tish since birth. Her father was her rock back then and still is, so Tish can continue to let her light shine. Frank supported her decision to go to art school, even when he wasn’t confident that one could make a living off of a hobby. Once she has graduated and really showed her ambition to excel, Frank helped her start her own business. Tish is happily upper middle class, it’s the only thing she’s ever known. She lives in a small downtown apartment a few blocks away from her shop, Black Sunrise.

Black Sunrise is a cozy little tattoo shop owned and operated by Tish, with three artists, herself included. Tish opened Black Sunrise three years ago, shortly after finishing her year long, post-graduation internship at a larger shop on the other side of the city. Black Sunrise is more than Tish’s workplace, it is her church, and her sanctuary. She spends her days creating both art and meaningful connections with the residents of Boston, and her nights enjoying the nightlife that the city has to offer. This nightlife includes the strip club that her bestie owns, and that’s not just because Tate owns it, either. A girl has needs to be met while she awaits meeting whatever soulmate exists for her out there.

strings

⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓣𝓪𝓽𝓮⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{He’s my best friend in the entire world, ride or die. Growing up our parents thought that we would get married someday, and if I weren’t so gay, we probably would have!}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}

other information

dialogue colour: 2E8B57
Faceclaim: Hannah Pixie Snowdon
theme song: “Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time” — Panic! At The Disco

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Strings

Relatively interested, but not fully committed yet. I'd have to think if I could be creative enough to make TWO characters right off the bat.

CANCELLED.

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^{Starring: Chrysler and Angela Reyes
Setting: Home, Friday Afternoon}

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Tires peeled against the asphalt as Chris turned his KTM Super Duke down Washington Avenue. It wasn’t the nicest bike on the streets, but it was his. Back in 2017, when the cycle was originally manufactured, it would have cost about as much as a mid tier sedan, but Chris bought her for only a few hundred bucks via Craigslist. The seller warned that she didn’t run, but she’d be good for selling parts. Chrysler had other plans though, like putting the skills he was learning at trade school to good use. With a little elbow grease, love, and many late nights spent cursing in the garage when the parts he ordered didn’t work, Chris finally got the bike street ready. He even got it a new paint job, black and blood orange. With a few more months of tinkering, it was race ready. That was the best part, giving those rich kids a run for their money — quite literally — in a motorcycle that he didn’t put more than a few grand and a year’s worth of manual labor into. Take that, capitalism!

Chris kicked the rumbling engine off in his driveway and locked the motorcycle up in the garage beside his mother’s beater of a car. That’s what you did in his neighborhood. You locked your shit up, or it would gain a habit of wandering off in the middle of the night. Slapping the garage door button, Chrysler made his way inside the house. The first room connected to the garage was the kitchen, where his mother, Angela Reyes, was washing dishes at the sink. The relatively young woman, at least for someone with a 17 year old son, turned her head over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Hey, baby,” she greeted warmly before turning back around to her housework.

“Hey, Moms,” he replied, sitting down at the kitchen table and setting his pin-covered, ratty, old, black backpack down on the linoleum floor. He didn’t have immediate plans, so he’d sit and chat with his mother for a bit. It was Friday, after all, a good time to catch up with her before she hit the bottle.

“How was school?” His mother asked, her head still facing the window while she washed a cup. Chris was starting to get comfortable, kicking his shoes off and wiggling his toes in all of their glorious freedom. The next step in the afternoon relaxation ritual was a good long drag. The rebellious teen pulled a plastic red lighter and a pack of Marlboro’s out of his jacket pocket and lit up a cig before returning them to their places. Noticing a small plate with some apparent breadcrumbs on it across the table, Chris pulled it towards him to flick his ashes on.

“It was fine. Just school, nothing special.” He responded, exhaling a breath of smoke as he did so and leaning back in the chair. “How was work?”

Instead of answering, Angela’s head tilted up. She turned the faucet off after a few moments and waited. Little did her son know, she was sniffing the air. Angela turned around, her almond shaped eyes narrowed into angry slits.

Ah, fuck… He thought. Five foot nothing and a hundred and ten pounds of pure maternal rage, incoming. Angela marched over to her son, who was now sitting back upright in the chair. She plucked the cigarette straight out of his lips and stabbed the butt out harshly into the plate that he had been using as an ashtray. Without any words, she held out her hand.

“Seriously?” Chris asked incredulously as he looked at her opened palm. What was this about? She knew he smoked, why make a scene all of the sudden? He looked from her palm to her face. Her eyes narrowed further, and damn… Hell hath no fury like a bent filipina mother. Chris wasn’t about to lose his life over a pack of cigarettes and a BIC lighter. He fished the objects out of his jacket pocket and placed them in her palm silently.

“These things will kill you. No more.” Angela scolded, slapping them on the plate and turning around. She hastily walked over to the trash and tapped the plate against the plastic bin, dumping the contents into the garbage.

“Yeah, you know what else kills ya?” Chris asked in retaliation. If she wanted a fight, he’d brawl. Throwing out his cigarettes, what kind of shit is this? Someone must have pissed in her coffee at work. His mother turned around in response, her hands on her hips, though one was still holding his makeshift ashtray. “Vodka.” He said curtly, his eyes flicking over to her liquor cabinet. Touché, madre.

“Mind your tongue with me, binata!” She hissed, gesturing harshly at him with the plate. After that, she seemed to mellow out slightly. “What are your plans tonight?” She asked, turning back to head towards the sink, as if none of that previous argument took place.

What in the actual fuck was going on? Chris felt like he was going to get whiplash from this conversation. He should have just went to his room, damn. “I dunno, going out?”

“Out?” You could practically hear the judgmental eyebrow raise in her tone.

“Yeah, out.” He confirmed without clarifying.

“You will do your homework first?” She framed it like a question, but it was a demand. Chris could see that, he knew how this dance went.

“... It’s Friday.” Chris said as an excuse not to. His short response was answered by her violently throwing the plate down into the dishwater. Suds flew up and clung to the curtains on the window, and the clang of porcelain against the steel sink caused Chris to startle in his seat.

Spinning around, angry once again, his mother went on a full-on rant. “What is wrong with you? What did I do so wrong? You need to get serious! Do your homework, do school. Do you want to live like this your whole life? Huh? Do you?! You need to get ready for college, not smoke cigarettes and go out all the time. Be better than this. You hear me, binata?”

“Alright! Shit, don’t break plates over it, fuck.” Chris responded, standing up with his hands in surrender. He honestly didn’t know what she was capable of, was she gonna chuck a plate at him next? Damn… “I’ll do homework first, aiight? But I’m still going out after, it’s Friday, Moms.”

He was going to leave it at that. Just go to his room and maybe actually do some homework like he promised. Maybe. But as soon as he walked through the threshold to the hall, he felt a pang in his stomach. Guilt. He turned around to see his mother facing away from him, looking rather defeated with her sudsy hands against the counter. Sighing, he approached her. “I don’t think I need better than this, Moms. I ain’t mad at what we got, and you shouldn’t be either. You did the best with the hand you were given, aiight? You did good for us, and I ain’t mad… If I act out, it’s really just on me, ‘kay? Or we came blame my dickhead father, he’s a good scapegoat, right?”

At that, Angela turned and cracked a smile. Throwing his mystery dad under the bus could lighten any mood. Chris pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back comfortingly. Truly, he didn’t like it when they fought, even if they were well-versed in it. “You’re a good boy.” She whispered as an apology.

“Only to the people who matter most.” Chris said, and pulled away enough to kiss his significantly shorter mother’s temple. “I’ll go do my homework now, promise.”

Secrets

^{Friday. June 1st. 11 AM. Reese Residence.}

There were only a few short hours each day that Demitri truly had to himself, especially now that he was suddenly made the head of the household. One might think that it being summer vacation would make things easier, but all that meant was that the kids didn’t get up as early. Once they were up, they still needed to be fed a decent meal, and instead of being bussed off to school, they had to be entertained at home or elsewhere. This was the hardest part for Demi — making sure they were content and cared for in these tough times, all the while not bothering to care for himself.

School might be out for the younger Reese children, but that wasn’t the case for Demitri. When he lost his mother earlier in the semester, he had taken it incredibly hard, and the emotional turmoil impacted his school work. Upon recommendation from his academic advisor, Demi lightened his course load. There is always summer session, as his advisor suggested. Summer session was here now, and Demitri was enrolled in the junior level basic operations management class that he had dropped during the spring semester. Now that is was summer, and yet another tragedy had struck the family, Demi was looking back and wishing that he hadn’t been such a pussy before, then he’d have more time to be with his loved ones now. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, as they say.

The other Reese’s had found things to do, so Demitri had retired to his old childhood room for the few hours before class. Demi sat glaring at the screen of his laptop, which was on an old wooden desk beside a steaming mug of jet black coffee. Caffeine and angst were the only things keeping him upright these days. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in over a week, and it was beginning to show. Not that process mapping and supply chain management were ever the most interesting topics, but the words were beginning to blur together as his eyelids drooped.

There was something almost hypnotic in the ticking of the clock on the wall. Tick tock. There was going to be a quiz today. Tick tock. He needed to study. Tick tock. Just take a sip of coffee and power through. Tick tock. Maybe five minutes won’t hurt. Tick tock. Just a little nap…

Demitri startled awake to the sound of the front door opening. Paranoid and on high alert, as he had been for days on end, Demi stood up and frantically scanned the room for the nearest weapon. The basball bat was behind the front door, bloody lot of good that was doing him since the intruder just walked right in. Which one of his siblings left the door unlocked? Demi’s money was on Robin, he wore his carelessness like it was armor. Stubborn little shit. Demitri settled on the letter opener, it was sharp enough to stab someone with… probably.

The redhead crept quietly down the hall towards the front room, gripping the letter opener tight in his right hand. He rounded the corner just as his older sister called out to see if anyone was home. His grip loosened and his shoulders relaxed as a flood of relief ran through him, you could practically breathe in the waves of anxiety leaving his body.

“Abi. Hi.” He greeted shortly, clearly still in shock. Demi kept the hand holding the letter opener slightly behind his back. “I wasn’t expecting you.” His disheveled clothing and unkempt hair, which hadn’t seen a shower in just as long as he hadn’t slept, made it clear that Demitri wasn’t expecting anyone. He was usually so well put together, stylish, even. The man who stood before her wasn’t the brother she grew up with. “Can I get you something to eat?” But parts of him were still there.

CANCELLED.

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_{A @Hey Im Jordan & @Silent Observer Collaboration
Friday Evening at The Sterling Residence}

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Sean was in the Sterling family garage, with his motorcycle up on the lift in front of him. A set of fine precision tools was resting on a toolbox beside him, and he was silently mouthing along to music that was playing through the room. He twisted wrench until he heard the click, and pulled it off of the engine, before he took a step back from the bike and spoke aloud to his Assistant, “check the compression levels?” He asked, and the bike’s starter began to click, before he held up his hand. “Wait. Lower the music.”

He turned around to look at the doorway, “Selena. Hey. Cut the music.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I actually like Rammstein.” His pretty-in-pink sister replied with a smile. Her shoes made soft ticking noises as she descended the steps. Sel’s eyes wandered from her brother to the motorcycle he was working on. “I can’t believe you actually convinced Mom to let you get that thing.” She said with a smirk and walked closer. “What are you doing to it? It’s brand new, it shouldn’t need to be fixed already, right?”

“I would have gotten it anyway, I paid for it myself. She bought me a helmet though — insisted on it.” Sean shrugged and hit the button to lower the bike down to the ground, before launching into an explanation. “I’m tweaking the engine’s compression, to mess with acceleration versus top speed. I could have probably kept it stock, but… Who’s that fun for? This way it’ll zip up to top speed a bit higher. I’m not doing any track racing, so I figure I can have the focus be on the acceleration, versus the top speed. Plus, this way it’s more nimble going through the alleyways and backstreets — you know, in case I get in a car chase.”

He rolled his eyes and shrugged, “not that it would ever happen. If you go fast enough, then the cops will just give up. That’s why I got the bike. Cops aren’t paid enough to deal with drug deals, murders, and then be asked to commit to high speed chases.” Turning his attention away from the bike and back to Selena, Sean added. “You can probably convince Mom to buy you one. Just soften her up with wine first.”

“That certainly sounds more like Mom.” Selena chimed in with a tiny bell of a laugh when he mentioned the helmet. She walked around, viewing the bike from all angles as Sean explained what he was doing. Surprisingly enough, she understood most of what he rambled on about. The silver princess was not a gearhead by any means, she knew hardly anything about vehicles, but the words he was using were physics terms. Science was a language that both twins spoke, though Sean had always worn the nerd label a bit more boldly and proudly. While Selena gave all the fucks about what people thought of her, Sean gave none about what people thought of him. She envied that, he seemed so much more… free. “Oh… no, I don’t want one. Is that how you did it, you caught her while she was wine drunk?” Sel asked with a chuckle and shook her head at her brother, a playful smile on her face.

“I mean… I don’t want one… but maybe when you’re finished tinkering, you could take me for a ride?” Her tone was hopeful, and curious.

“What? Why would I do that?” Sean reached in his pocket and withdrew the key, holding it out to his sister and shaking his head as he dropped it into her palm. “Just take it yourself. It’ll be more fun that way, and I trust you. What’s the worst that could happen?” Again, the differences between the twins were highlighted, this time Sean’s ability to seemingly do whatever he wanted without care for the consequences, and Selena’s somewhat… cautious approach, by comparison.

“Just take it for a ride around the valley, or something, and bring it back.” Sean suggested, walking over to one of the tables, to return the tools he’d been using, “just be wary of the acceleration. It… accelerates pretty hard, especially after those tweaks. I’m confident you can handle it, after all, you are my twin.”

“W-what?” Selena uncharacteristically stumbled on her words as she looked down at the key he’d just dropped in her palm. “No, I can—” She was about to say “I can’t”, but that isn’t a phrase in a Sterling’s vocabulary. Sterlings can, Sterlings will, and Sterlings do. After clearing her throat lightly, she stood up a little straighter. “You at least have to show me how first, I’m never driven one before.” The blonde looked down at what she was wearing briefly — a skirt, a flowy blouse, and kitten heels. “That, and I will have to buy a more appropriate outfit first.”

“Buy? Don’t you have jeans and a jacket? The whole biker getup, with the sleek black jumpsuit… That’s Helmsley style, more than Sterling I think. ‘Course, it’s not surprising you want to go shopping. Look, it’s this simple.” He swung a leg over the bike and gestured at the handlebars, “look. The lever on the left is the clutch. Pull it in before you shift. You’ll know when to shift, the bike will be making a noise when the gears are winding and are ready to go. The right side has the throttle,” he said, twisting the grip to show. “And the lever is the front brake. You basically don’t ever want to touch it when you’re going fast, or you’ll flip over forward and either die or have your face scraped off. On the left peg is the shifter. It’s a 6 gear bike. All the way down is first gear. Halfway between first and second is neutral. On the right peg is the rear brake. It’s better to just downshift to slow down, but if you want to use a brake, use that one. That’s how it’s done. Any questions?”

Selena rolled her eyes slightly at his jeans and jacket comment. Of course she already had clothes that she could wear, but this was a special occasion. Her first time riding a motorcycle. It could be her last time riding a motorcycle, and she’d be damned if she didn’t go out in top notch style. Special occasions called for new outfits, and it’d been a while since she’d gone a shopping date with her bestie. A fews weeks, at least. As her brother went on his lecture about the controls, Selena nodded along. For the most part, she was following the instructions, but with the warning that she could have her face scraped off if she messed up… she decided she might want to do some further studying before trying it herself.

“Hmm…” She mused when Sean asked if she had any questions. “I’ll quiz myself.” Selena circled around the bike, pointing at the left handle. “Clutch, for shifting gears, I should know when to shift.” She moved her hand to the right side of the handlebars “Throttle, makes it go faster, yeah? And the lever is the front brake, don’t use at high speed for risk of losing face,” Things got a little muddy when it came to the pegs. The left one shifted gears, and the right one is another brake — a better brake to use? She pointed to the pegs, “Shifter and other brake. How did I do?”

Sean listened closely to his sister’s words as she tried to read back all the information that he’d given her. As she went, he nodded along with her. She was doing a good job, though that was simply to be expected; after all, she was a Sterling. “You did good. You should be fine, so long as you stick to the advice I gave you and don’t forget anything important.” Sean said, leaning against the garage wall. “Let’s go shopping, I guess.” As he said that, he made a bit of a noise; was he seriously suggesting shopping? Much had changed.

Sel beamed a smile in response to her brother’s praise. “I won’t forget. I’ll also probably watch some videos tonight and learn more before I actually try it. I’d quite like to keep my face the way it is, so more knowledge is better.” She tossed the key back to Sean and eyed him with a raised brow. “You don’t want to go shopping, I know you. I’ll just go with Jamie tomorrow morning, it’s been a while since we had a bestie date.” Selena offered, giving her brother a perfect out. “Though, I’d love to do something else with you! Maybe we could go somewhere good to eat? If we stay here, Mom’ll try to push more health foods on us, and I could pretty much kill for a cheeseburger right now.” Yes, you heard right. The Sterling’s eldest daughter preferred greasy goodness to the stereotypical valley girl salads and quinoa.

Sean’s hand whipped up and snatched the key out of the air after they were thrown his way. “That sounds infinitely better than any other possible option.” Sean said in immediate agreement after Selena suggested that he sit out the shopping trip. Whatever it took to keep him out of a store was a good deal as far as he was concerned. When she suggested leaving to eat, Sean’s eyebrow raised slightly, and he thought about it a moment, before making a suggestion. “I heard some people who looked like they know about food mention a place called the Sunshine Diner. But…”

“We have to take the twins.”

Selena narrowed her eyes at her brother. He’d been back long enough to see how the twins acted around her. He knew what he was asking of her. “Fine. But... only because I know the milkshakes are ace there. You’ll drive, I have to text and make plans for tomorrow.” Selena said, kissing her brother on the cheek before heading inside to fetch the hellions. Sean would prefer to drive anyway, lest he be caught in her pink monstrosity again. Plus, she’d be loathe to let the twins touch her car’s pristine leather interior.

Spectral Voices

Demitri “Demi” Allan Reese

Birthday
February 20^th, 1997

Age
21

Appearance

6’3
160
Red hair, pale green eyes, tall, and relatively thin. Likes to dress well, often seen in straight-leg trousers and blazers.

Position
Eldest son of the Reese family.

Secret
Open secret - Diagnosed with mixed anxiety-depressive disorder. Attends therapy.
Closed secret - {{REDACTED}}

School
Is in his senior year at Millington University, studying culinary arts with a minor in business administration.

Occupation
Part-time cook at the Queen’s Orchid diner.
When he graduates, he wants to open his own restaurant and add to the Reese family’s culinary legacy in Millington.

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Personality
Demi’s tendencies towards perfectionism lead him to be stressed when things don't go according to plan, and if you are nearby him when he is feeling this way, he might verbally lash out at you. Because of this, he can be seen as somewhat of an asshole. His family knows his quirks, and when to avoid him, but others may not be so lucky. When you catch him on a good day, he is charming and charismatic, the kind of guy you would expect to be successful in business, but without the sliminess. There is a sense of genuineness about him, like he'll always tell you the truth, even if that truth might hurt. Above all else, Demi is a family man, and his siblings mean the world to him. This is true now moreso than ever, and he will stop at nothing to find his baby sister - even if it means risking his own future by letting his grades slip in his final year of college.

He is either unlucky in love, or he keeps his relationship status private, as his friends nor his family have never been introduced to any romantic partners. It is likely that he has simply not made the time for romance, given that he packs his schedule full with school, working at the diner, and of course, family time. Any free time that is left between those three priorities is spent socializing with his friends, which he has never had any trouble making.

Following the recent tragedies, the personality described above is buried under layers of anxiety, depression, and sleepless nights. He keeps a smile on for the sake of his younger siblings, but behind closed doors, he’s an absolute mess.

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Short Bio
From birth, Demitri was a momma’s boy. This seemed only natural, given that Ophelia became a housewife when he was born. They spent all of his waking ours together, and eventually Demi grew to mimic her. His mother’s favorite things became his favorite things, and everything that he did, he did to impress her. As Demitri entered school, the strength of this behavior lessened, though he did still inherit his mother’s passion for cooking during his elementary years.

Demi’s cooking lessons with his mother started small, beginning with breakfast foods like omelets and pancakes, and not moving on until the basics were absolutely perfected. As Demitri grew older, the lessons increased in difficulty. By high school, he had begun branching out, cooking dishes from foreign cultures and venturing into the precise and scientific world of baking. At this point, his skills surpassed even Ophelia’s, and his path in life was decided. He would attend culinary school at Millington University with the goal of eventually opening his own restaurant. His mother supported this goal, even going so far as to tell him that he would open something great one day, and with his talents, it would be a restaurant that critics from all around the world would travel to experience.

College life treated Demi well. He immediately moved into the dorms to get the full university experience, and experience it he did. Demitri excelled in his classes, continued to work part-time at the diner, went home for dinner with his family at least three times a week, and on the weekends, he partied like any self-respecting college student ought to. Life was good, up until the very moment that it wasn’t.

Ophelia committed suicide.

Demi’s mother abandoned him, leaving him with nothing but a gaping hole in his heart, and a letter that he could not bring himself to read, even to this day. Much like his beloved older sister, Demitri fell into a deep well of darkness in the months following his mother’s death. He pulled away from everything that he loved. He moved out of the dorms and back into his family home. He cooked less, his grades slipped… his professors started to notice. Demi was encouraged by them to begin seeing a school psychologist, whom he continues to see biweekly. With the help of Dr. Irving, and countless nights staying up crying and talking to his older sister, Demi’s mental health began to more or less stabilize.

On May 25th, any semblance of stability went out the window. Demitri has since begun to function on auto pilot. He’s the man of the house now, because he has to be. In the morning, he makes breakfast for his younger siblings, and ensures that they are all bathed, dressed, have completed their homework, and have lunches packed for school. In the afternoon, he attends his own classes. In the evening, he works at the diner. He has skipped this week’s therapy session, unannounced. The only people he’s talked to outside of the Reese household in the past seven days have been cops and the occasional concerned neighbor. At night, instead of sleeping in his own bed, Demi has taken to laying on the couch. The sounds of Moana or Coco playing on the TV indicating how much he misses his sister, and the baseball bat behind the front door indicating his increasing paranoia in the need to keep his remaining family safe. In one way or another, the Reese family has lost three members this year, but they won’t be losing any more, not on Demi’s watch.

Secrets

Demitri “Demi” Allan Reese

Birthday
February 20^th, 1997

Age
21

Appearance

6’3
160
Red hair, pale green eyes, tall, and relatively thin. Likes to dress well, often seen in straight-leg trousers and blazers.

Position
Eldest son of the Reese family.

Secret
Open secret - Diagnosed with mixed anxiety-depressive disorder. Attends therapy.
Closed secret - {{REDACTED}}

School
Is in his senior year at Millington University, studying culinary arts with a minor in business administration.

Occupation
Part-time cook at the Queen’s Orchid diner.
When he graduates, he wants to open his own restaurant and add to the Reese family’s culinary legacy in Millington.

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Personality
Demi’s tendencies towards perfectionism lead him to be stressed when things don't go according to plan, and if you are nearby him when he is feeling this way, he might verbally lash out at you. Because of this, he can be seen as somewhat of an asshole. His family knows his quirks, and when to avoid him, but others may not be so lucky. When you catch him on a good day, he is charming and charismatic, the kind of guy you would expect to be successful in business, but without the sliminess. There is a sense of genuineness about him, like he'll always tell you the truth, even if that truth might hurt. Above all else, Demi is a family man, and his siblings mean the world to him. This is true now moreso than ever, and he will stop at nothing to find his baby sister - even if it means risking his own future by letting his grades slip in his final year of college.

He is either unlucky in love, or he keeps his relationship status private, as his friends nor his family have never been introduced to any romantic partners. It is likely that he has simply not made the time for romance, given that he packs his schedule full with school, working at the diner, and of course, family time. Any free time that is left between those three priorities is spent socializing with his friends, which he has never had any trouble making.

Following the recent tragedies, the personality described above is buried under layers of anxiety, depression, and sleepless nights. He keeps a smile on for the sake of his younger siblings, but behind closed doors, he’s an absolute mess.

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Short Bio
From birth, Demitri was a momma’s boy. This seemed only natural, given that Ophelia became a housewife when he was born. They spent all of his waking ours together, and eventually Demi grew to mimic her. His mother’s favorite things became his favorite things, and everything that he did, he did to impress her. As Demitri entered school, the strength of this behavior lessened, though he did still inherit his mother’s passion for cooking during his elementary years.

Demi’s cooking lessons with his mother started small, beginning with breakfast foods like omelets and pancakes, and not moving on until the basics were absolutely perfected. As Demitri grew older, the lessons increased in difficulty. By high school, he had begun branching out, cooking dishes from foreign cultures and venturing into the precise and scientific world of baking. At this point, his skills surpassed even Ophelia’s, and his path in life was decided. He would attend culinary school at Millington University with the goal of eventually opening his own restaurant. His mother supported this goal, even going so far as to tell him that he would open something great one day, and with his talents, it would be a restaurant that critics from all around the world would travel to experience.

College life treated Demi well. He immediately moved into the dorms to get the full university experience, and experience it he did. Demitri excelled in his classes, continued to work part-time at the diner, went home for dinner with his family at least three times a week, and on the weekends, he partied like any self-respecting college student ought to. Life was good, up until the very moment that it wasn’t.

Ophelia committed suicide.

Demi’s mother abandoned him, leaving him with nothing but a gaping hole in his heart, and a letter that he could not bring himself to read, even to this day. Much like his beloved older sister, Demitri fell into a deep well of darkness in the months following his mother’s death. He pulled away from everything that he loved. He moved out of the dorms and back into his family home. He cooked less, his grades slipped… his professors started to notice. Demi was encouraged by them to begin seeing a school psychologist, whom he continues to see biweekly. With the help of Dr. Irving, and countless nights staying up crying and talking to his older sister, Demi’s mental health began to more or less stabilize.

On May 25th, any semblance of stability went out the window. Demitri has since begun to function on auto pilot. He’s the man of the house now, because he has to be. In the morning, he makes breakfast for his younger siblings, and ensures that they are all bathed, dressed, have completed their homework, and have lunches packed for school. In the afternoon, he attends his own classes. In the evening, he works at the diner. He has skipped this week’s therapy session, unannounced. The only people he’s talked to outside of the Reese household in the past seven days have been cops and the occasional concerned neighbor. At night, instead of sleeping in his own bed, Demi has taken to laying on the couch. The sounds of Moana or Coco playing on the TV indicating how much he misses his sister, and the baseball bat behind the front door indicating his increasing paranoia in the need to keep his remaining family safe. In one way or another, the Reese family has lost three members this year, but they won’t be losing any more, not on Demi’s watch.

Secrets

Eldest Son - Demi

Color: C3D89E

Age: 21
Occupation: College senior, studying culinary arts and business management. Wants to open his own restaurant someday.
Looks: Red hair, green eyes, tall and relatively thin. Likes to dress well, often seen in straight-leg trousers and blazers.
Personality: His tendencies towards perfectionism lead him to be stressed when things don't go according to plan, and if you are nearby him when he is feeling this way, he might verbally lash out at you. Because of this, he can be seen as somewhat of an asshole. His family knows his quirks, and when to avoid him, but others may not be so lucky. When you catch him on a good day, he is charming and charismatic, the kind of guy you would expect to be successful in business, but without the sliminess. There is a sense of genuineness about him, like he'll always tell you the truth, even if that truth might hurt. Above all else, Demi is a family man, and his siblings mean the world to him. This is true now moreso than ever, and he will stop at nothing to find his baby sister - even if it means risking his own future by letting his grades slip in his final year of college.

Secrets

Hello! Lovely invited me, I'm Silent!