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London–the city of dashed hopes and lost dreams. Never sleeping for fear of not waking up. Lurking in the shadows of eighteenth century England, London is the biggest city under the reign of his majesty–and the worst.

welcome to pfop, a lit+ roleplaying site caught up in 1700s london. we are currently accepting canons and originals.


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August, 1728.
With summer coming to an end things are cooling down. It’s cloudy, with a chance of showers.


arabella rosalie croftt

samuel harry smith

next finished app - staff name here, and so on. (:





BOY OF THE MOMENT
samuel harry smith .


GIRL OF THE MOMENT
tba .


COUPLE OF THE MOMENT
alexandra and oliver montague .


QUOTE OF THE MOMENT
“i can so see oli being like "right. i have to kill you now. but." -pauseshuffle- "fancy a shag, first?"” – LOULOU.


pocket full of posies ,

APPLY.
redcarpet&&rebellion. HOMETOWN GLORY !


 
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jacklyn bethany brown
Posted: Sep 14 2008, 03:47 PM


JACK{{of all ``trades.
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Group: urchin ,
Posts: 16
Member No.: 41
Joined: 29-August 08
It was a beautiful night. Looking up, the stars were shining, little twinkling lights that sometimes flickered and winked on the people down below. People didn’t often look up at them and took the time to just watch them flicker or even to just try and count them on a whim. But Jack did. She would climb up a building and lay on the rooftops and give stars names, new ones each night since she didn’t know their proper names, and she’d make up legends about them and how they came to be where they were. Just silly, childish things that kept her going, kept her surviving. Sometimes, she pretended that she could reach out and fly, fly up to them and dance on the tops of them.

Her young face was turned upward, catching glimpses of light now and again on her feminine face. Whisps of blonde hair blew in the slight breeze, though most of her blonde locks were tucked up into her hat. It made sense for her to cut her hair, style it like the boy she was portraying, but Jack had some vanity in her, and she didn’t want to cut her hair. She rather liked her long, blonde hair. It did present some problems when she slept and she was always careful to keep her hat on her head, but it wasn’t like Jack let people get that close to her in physical proximity. A young girl pretending to be a boy; she was smart enough to maintain distance. It kept up the illusion.

Jack ambled down the streets, hands in the pockets of her oversized coat. In fact, everything looked just a size or two too big for little Jack. Her coat certainly seemed to swamp her, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Besides, the boy who gave them to her hadn’t exactly been her size and shape, being a boy and all. Every now and again, she kicked a stone chasing it down the streets. She didn’t even look where she was going, where the streets were leading the little Jack to until she looked up from her latest stone victim and saw it.

The harbour.

Ever since Jack’s father death in a ship that left that very harbour, she had vowed never to look at it again. It terrified her in an irrational sense. She blamed the harbour with its workers and ships and sails and even the royal guards that guarded it. They were all to blame for her father’s end. Jack stood in the middle of the street, her eyes wide and her entire frame tense and taunt. Anything could have spooked her and made her scream. Anything. She was about ready to scream right that moment.
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