Payapa Meadows - Monrovia Wilde

WELP THIS WAS THE HARDEST HISTORY I'VE EVER WRITTEN
_{I AM NOT A PLAYWRIGHT AAHAHA}

"So what if I'm crying? Everyone can cry, and only fools refuse to!"

THE BASICS

Name: Monrovia “Monnie” Wilde

Age: 19 at time of death (is at least 150y.o)

Gender: Demiboy (he/him or they/them)

Birthday: June 6th (birthday); March 15th (date of death)

Species: #562 - Yamask

Occupation:

Runs a store called  Pixie Ring, which is dedicated to handcrafted ‘fairypunk’ accessories such as stone earrings and wire flower crowns.

Personality: (Lonely nature, quick tempered) +Gentle, +Thoughtful, =Cautious, =Self-Absorbed, -Temperamental, -Melancholy

Competing forces work to make Monrovia Wilde the boy he is. His cruel and egotistical persona from his days among the living and the gentle and compassionate spectral persona he possesses today fight to coexist in one little ghost… and sadly there is only so much cognitive dissonance one can take before it starts wearing down on them.

Hardly ever seen without his mask, Monnie is incredibly timid, often stuttering and shaking during the entirety of a conversation. But once any initial neuroticism passes, as long as that may take, he appears to be a somewhat reasonably character, soft-spoken and fairly easy to talk to about whatever mundane thing may come to mind. The problem comes when conversation gets less run-of-the-mill - Monrovia is very easily angered or upset, and often cries when he’s angry. He tends to respond vehemently to questions about his mask, inquiries into his family, and criticism of most kinds.

Monnie’s melancholy demeanor tends to carry over into his daily life, and he finds himself most at peace when surrounded by quirky, modern things. He has a knack for crafting, and will often use wirecraft or beadwork to tune out others if they’re being particularly stressful to him. Some remnants of their selfish and reckless former self exist within them, causing Monnie to be vindictive and aloof, and sometimes even distrusting. Monnie's loneliness and his general contempt for the person he used to be causes him to shove people away more often than one probably should. However this loneliness and general distrust make him very protective of his friends. If someone manages to break through enough of his barriers to befriend him, they'll soon learn that there's a lot more to Monrovia Wilde than just sadness and anger, and that maybe there's a little good buried in his copper heart after all.

HISTORY

|| ACT I ||

A beautiful child is born to two well-to-do Whimsicott. The child is named Percival after his grandfather, Geraldine Harper’s father. Lucas Harper and Geraldine Harper soon gain recognition from the townsfolk, on the eve of Percival’s second birthday.

VILLAGER 1: His hair is like fine silver, and his skin is so deep and brown! He is so very beautiful.

VILLAGER 2: Hush you! You mustn’t say such things; you will cast the evil eye upon him.

GERALDINE: Nonsense, friend! I don’t believe in evil. Percival truly is a beautiful little boy.

LUCAS: (under his breath) Far more beautiful than us.

A CHILD: (tugging on VILLAGER 2’s dress) Mother, his hair is so fluffy! May I braid it?

GERALDINE: He’s much too young. Maybe when he’s older, and wiser. (looks at Percival in adoration) My lovely son! How beautiful your heart must be, for your body to look like this!

|| ACT III ||

PERCIVAL and some Clefairy are playing catch by the well. ALEXIS approaches them.

FAIRY 1: (disdainfully) Look, it’s that freak.

FAIRY 2: Let’s throw a ball at him!

PERCIVAL: Not yet. (smirks at ALEXIS) Hullo, small one. Have you come to take your ball back?

ALEXIS: N-no, I was wondering…

FAIRY 1: He’s scared!

FAIRY 2: Let’s push him in the well.

PERCIVAL: ...If you could play with us, yes? Well you cannot. You’re absolutely disgusting to look at. Look at those large teeth of yours! Even an Axew would be embarrassed of them.

ALEXIS: My teeth are a decent size! (Stammering, comes closer) And yes, I DO want my ball back. (Attempts to snatch ball from FAIRY 2)

PERCIVAL: Oh dear, my hands! What are they doing? (laughs wickedly, before pushing ALEXIS into the well. ALEXIS screams before hitting the water, and crying)

FAIRY 1: Loser Lexy has fallen into the well! Loser Lexy!

FAIRY 2: I knew it would be funny!

PERCIVAL peers into the well and smiles cruelly.

PERCIVAL: Perhaps it is better you are down there. No one can see how hideous you are.

||ACT VI ||

SCENE: The Harper family kitchen. Geraldine and Lucas sit on opposite sides of the table. Geraldine looks baffled and worried. Lucas looks angry.

GERALDINE: I don’t understand, I don’t… I thought he would be so beautiful inside.

LUCAS: Enough with your foolish yapping, Dina! Our son is wicked. Just yesterday he threw a rock at Cassidy’s young son with his new slingshot. I knew it was a mistake to buy him that.

GERALDINE: No, he’s good! I promise, he is. There is no way Arceus would give us a son so beautiful if he wasn’t a good, godly creature. There must be some mistake!

PERCIVAL enters. He is covered in dirt and looks angry. Geraldine Rises.

GERALDINE: My son! Are you alright? You look dreadful in all that-

PERCIVAL: (interrupting) Not nearly as dreadful as you do, mother! Look, your brow is all covered in sweat and dust, and your hair is matted and drab. I look much better than you do.

LUCAS: (Rises as well, voice rising) Percy, that is no way to talk to your own mother. You are a simply ungrateful child.

PERCIVAL: (turns up his nose) And you two are foolish adults! I know not why I waste time with you.

Percival trudges to the washroom. Geraldine waits for a few seconds. Her face is still and solemn. Then she sits down in a chair and cries.

GERALDINE: (whispering, between sobs) He’s good, I know it. I know it…

|| ACT X ||

A yamask wakes up. Surrounding him are a few small mushrooms in an otherwise clear field.

YAMASK: Where am I? (Looks down at his mask. It is an unclear image, and it looks like a frog) Oh, I remember. This used to be my house… (stands and looks around, his eyes wide) I had the most curious dream, where I was stripped of my face and walked around without a nose and holes for eyes. I dreamt there was a great fire at our house; the lamp spilled and the whole abode went up in flames. I dreamt that mother and father died, and that my mother’s last words to me were ‘I wish I had done better.’ Better how? I am beautiful, and that is all.

The Yamask looks around once again, and squints at two large headstones in the near clearing. He approaches it tentatively, kneeling to examine them. Then he gasps, a horrified expression on his face.

YAMASK: It’s true! It’s true, and my parents are dead! (kneels to look at the headstone, and shrieks when he sees the reflection of his face in the polished stone. His hands rush to his face.) I’m hideous! My teeth are large and unsightly, and my nose has bumps and warts all over! My hair is coal dark and matted… oh goodness, I have nothing! (falls to the ground, sobbing) Mother, you were wrong about me! I am not good. I was never good. And now I have lost the only thing that mattered to me. I am simply nothing. Father was right. I was never good.

|| ACT XII ||

The Yamask and a Skarmory woman are talking. The Yamask seems tired and melancholy, but he keeps his cool disposition.

YAMASK: No miss. I got the scars on my arm in a fight. A young man named Percival I used to know.

SKARMORY: Euch! I hate talking about injuries, don’t you? They make me feel so squeamish! Let’s talk about something else. Like your mask! I love your mask, by the way. It’s so unusual! Where may I get one?

YAMASK: (coldly) You cannot. This is my mask. It was given to me the day I was born.

SKARMORY: Oh, my apologies! I’m afraid I’m just a sucker for fashionable things like it. And the flowers you braided into you hair are so fresh-looking. Are you a gardener?

YAMASK: I am not. I made these flowers myself out of wire and fabric. I have a terrible hand with flowers.

SKARMORY: Well the whole ‘hippie chic’ thing is very in style now. You can make a killing by selling stuff like that. I-I’m sorry, what did you say your name is again? I’m really forgetful! A total ditz!

The Yamask looks at the flowers in his braids and sighs. His tired expression is invisible behind the mask.

YAMASK: Monrovia Wilde.

EXTRAS

Loved Gift: Handmade flower crowns

Liked Gifts: Jewelry (of or related to flowers is a plus), big sweaters, old novels

Disliked Gifts: Most clothes, beauty products, food, old-timey things

Hated Gift: Masks

Additional Info:

-Monnie is exactly the type of person to have a really cute Etsy shop, but he can’t figure out the internet so that’s not an option.

-Monnie refuses to celebrate on his birthday, and will treat anyone’s attempts to do so with anger and avoidance. Monnie prefers to celebrate the day of his death, since he treats it more like the day whom he is now was born. He affectionately calls it his “Mortiversary.”  

-Monnie gets upset when people ask if they can try on his mask. Don't do it. Don't ever do it. Please.

-Monnie's name and the format for his history are inspired by my favorite author, Oscar Wilde!

Roleplay methods / Availability:

Notes and Skype are my preferred RP method, but I also do Google Docs. I prefer Skype, but I only give my account to people I’m familiar with. I do lit/paragraph mostly. Script rps I usually reserve for very close friends or short/humorous RPs on Skype.

Pokemon and Yamask belong to Nintendo.