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Post by Mrs. Nellie Lovett. on Feb 3, 2008 21:02:17 GMT -5
Name:
Mrs. Sarah Helen [Nellie] Lovett
Age:
36
Gender:
Female
Height:
5’3”
Weight:
138 lb.
Appearance:
To say that Nellie Lovett looks her age would actually be quite a lie. The ways she dresses and wears her hair tend to add years onto her appearance, years that she’d rather not have people guessing about. Her skin is pale, but smooth and rather sensitive.
Her nose is kind of pointed, which she was teased about as a little girl. Most of the boys never liked her, and the girls certainly didn’t either. It was actually rather often that the girls teased her about her nose, telling her it looked like a bird’s beak, that it would clothes-line anyone that walked past her, and that she ought to just go ahead and right out whack it off.
Nellie’s hair is a shade of chestnut brown, if not a bit darker, and rather curly. She’s always wearing it up in two ratty buns on top of her head with strands hanging down all over. Personally, she thinks it looks rather nice. She refuses to wear it in neat buns for fear of looking like something of the feline type. After all, she doesn’t want Mr. T calling her ‘cat woman’ or anything obnoxious like that.
Her figure, on a different note, isn’t quite too slim or overly large. She’s actually a rather lovely size, just in between. Of course, because of her time period she does wear corsets, and that tends to give her a figure, but that isn’t to say that she doesn’t have one without the blasted contraption.
For all she cares, the stupid elongated sausages are only there to make you uncomfortable and keep you from looking ‘improper’.
There are slightly dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep she’s constantly received from her many nights awake in the pie shop, but they seem to lessen every time she does get some sleep, even if it is only a little bit.
In all actuality, she’s really quite pretty even if she doesn’t sound like it.
Personality: [at least two paragraphs]
Most, when they first meet her, would say Mrs. Lovett is a rather senile lady who flew off her rocker years ago. Honestly, that’s the largest wad of bull pucky that anybody could dish out. Seriously. It’s even worse than her pies (and that has to be bad).
She’s always been a bit strange. Usually she’s in a bright, cheery mood, always ready to try and make somebody’s day better in some odd way. She has a tendency to make people laugh without meaning to, it’s just her natural behavior. Whether it amuses people or not isn’t really a concern to her at all.
With strangers, she’s polite and always courteous depending on how they treat her. She can only tolerate so much, after all. Nellie does have a lengthy patience, but if it were to be compared to a candle, certain situations can burn the wick more quickly than others. If she’s had a stressful day in the shop, I wouldn’t even bother to approach her about something that would normally upset her in the slightest; it’d be likely that she’d whack you out the window with her rolling pin.
She’s insightful, to say the least. She isn’t afraid of being brutally honest with herself, either. After all, if you sell the Worst Pies in London you’d think you’d have to learn to be honest with yourself at some point in time.
Her personality is rather different when she’s around Mr. Todd, though.
She tends to be flirtatious and more outgoing in his presence, always making remarks and hinting at things she shouldn’t be hinting at. She doesn’t hesitate when speaking to him, regardless of whether it may or may not get her into a troublesome (or possibly even violent) situation with him.
Either way, she tends to find a way to calm him down and make up for it eventually.
Wealth Status:
Lower Middle-Class.
Occupation:
Baker
Personal Posessions:
Her few gowns that she has, her shop/residence, her baking pin and supplies, any memorabilia from her life with Albert (even if some of it isn't so great), old photos, jewelry...
Pets:
None, except there are a few stray cats that come around the shop repeatedly, so she always makes a point to feed them a little something.
Family:
Jonas Louis - Father - Deceased
Marjorie Louis - Mother - Deceased
Albert Lovett - Husband - Deceased
History:
Sarah Helen Louis was born on February 11, 1848 to Jonas and Marjorie Louis.
Ever since she was young, she’d loved to bake. Once she was old enough, her father would come home to find her experimenting in the kitchen, covered in flour and with clumps of whatever she was making stuck in her hair from the way she’d constantly insist on ‘hands on’ mixing.
When she was eight, her mother had grown ill with fever. Nellie had insisted on baking her things for her, but her mother never ate them. She found this out when coming across the dog eating one of the pies she’d made for her.
Her mother died the day after this discovery. Nellie had almost given up baking entirely, considering her mother was the one that had taught her the skill.
For years she never bothered to touch a mixing bowl or rolling pin, until her father had bothered to confront her about it. Their money was growing scarce, and somehow they would have to try and make a living. Jonas was a carpenter, and a good one at that, he just had to assume that nobody needed furniture or anything of the sort, that or they could make their own and there was no use for a carpenter.
So with that in mind, she had gone into town with a fresh basket of pies to try and sell.
Apparently they weren’t very popular, they hadn’t sold hardly at all.
The majority of what I’m telling you right here isn’t that important, just that she became known for her rather… dreadful pies at an early start.
She didn’t marry until she was at least twenty, and it was to a baker on Fleet Street. He owned his own shop with a room above it. Nellie had gone inside and asked him if there was any possible way that she could’ve rented out the room for her own baking. This was the beginning of their relationship, which eventually, as I stated, resulted in them marrying. Nellie wouldn't have married him, but her father was ill, and he was growing old, as if he could die any moment. If her father died, she would be left on the street as a beggar woman. Marrying would ensure security and a place to live. It was a marriage of convenience, not love.
Albert Lovett was his name. He was a wonderful baker, and but not a very wonderful man. They opened a shop together, and rented out the rooms above to people that needed places to stay.
Albert had a tendency to go out and drink, and whenever he came home he was far past what he should’ve been, or what people would’ve considered safe drinking. Albert was, indeed, an alcoholic, though a more fitting title would’ve been violent drunk. After his nights out drinking he would come home, and if he didn’t wake Lovett up demanding she take care of him or make him something to eat, he would wake her up demanding sex or other disgusting pleasures that Nellie had refused to commit to. This was when the violence would arise and someone (a particular Albert Lovett) would get angry and either give her a few good hits or just simply rant off to her then go downstairs and sleep in the parlor. Nellie Lovett had gotten herself into a dreadful marriage, one that she found there was no way out of. Several times she had contemplated suicide, but various things had talked her out of it. Each time she had grown a bit more serious about it, but every time she was stopped she wasn’t so sure she would’ve gone through with it any way.
About a year after her marriage, a family had asked to rent out the room and pay boarding on it, to live there, so the man could open his barber shop. The man was absolutely gorgeous, Nellie couldn’t help but notice. His wife was a small little slip of a thing, and just as beautiful, too. Albert hadn’t been there at the moment, so Nellie had greedily accepted the offer. Not only would it mean they would be making more money, but she would be enjoying the company of the man and his family.
Albert had apparently noticed her attraction to the man. That had only made him angry, as if Nellie had actually committed adultery and had gone against their marital vows. Though she didn’t, it was probably the healthiest thing she could’ve done since marrying Albert, in all actuality. It would’ve benefited her far more than sitting up waiting for the drunken bastard to come home and beat her...
Having gone off one night to go and get drunk and relieve his ‘sorrows’, Lovett expected another typical night when he would just come home and give her a good whacking around and fall asleep in the parlor again. But Albert never came home, and he didn’t come home the next day either. That was when a policeman came to her door and told her that Albert had been found lying in an alleyway near the local pub, dead. Apparently he’d been attacked and stripped of all his valuables and his money, then killed so he would be unable to report the thief. Nellie had felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
The funeral wasn’t fancy by any means. Only the family upstairs and Nellie had attended the ceremony. Apparently nobody else really cared for Albert either.
Just after the routine settled in (Nellie had learned of the boarders’ names: Benjamin and Lucy Barker, and their little daughter was named Johanna) something absolutely horrible had happened.
Benjamin had been exiled on a charge (that Nellie had thought was rather trumped-up) and sent away to an Australian penal colony.
Lucy was then tricked into going to the judge’s house, the judge who had exiled Benjamin. It was then that Nellie had realized his plan. He’d sent Benjamin away so he could get his hands on Lucy.
Apparently, from what Nellie had heard, the judge had raped her and Lucy had then taken arsenic. The little girl, Johanna, had become the judge’s ward.
Fifteen years later, Benjamin Barker returned to London and to Mrs. Lovett’s shop a changed man. He was no longer Benjamin Barker, but Sweeney Todd.
She told him of what had happened to his wife.
He then vowed that he would have his revenge. Mrs. Lovett agreed to let him open his shop, having given him his razors back.
They had then concocted the little plan of the meat pies, and how Sweeney’s revenge would be carried out.
Participate in the story of Sweeney Todd?
Well it’d be pretty stupid if I didn’t.
Sample Post:
[from WC <3]
Even standing at the bottom of the staircase she could still feel the heat that his act of touching her forehead had generated. Regardless of the temperature of his skin, it always found a way to heat hers. He could've been colder than the North Pole and she still would've burned if he'd done so much as brushed against her. She was afraid she was blushing, but could only find herself amused at his statement. Thin water? It sparked her curiosity...
"Hm... thin water, you say? Should I like the sound of that today?"
A devilish grin lit the woman's face as he came to join her, and she began walking again, this time in the direction of the cellar. The bowls and such they would need would still be down there, considering she'd left them there from the last time she had performed this deed.
Lovett stopped at the door to the cellar, opening it carefully. She stepped inside onto the first step, almost dreading the second set of stairs. Whichever architect had designed the house must not have had women with bustles the size of a sofa in mind, especially women in that situation that had a spring in their step, somewhat like Lovett's. Her hands fumbled for the light. She huffed slightly until her hands met the string, and she yanked it to flood the staircase with bright light, making it visible and [somewhat] safe.
The second set of stairs she walked down casually, the small slippers on her feet making minimal noise as they descended even further into the lower levels of the house. Even if she didn't seem like it, Nellie Lovett held a feline-like grace that could be a rarity in some women, especially some women in London, and extra especially if those women had been in her situation and had had the lifestyle that she had. You'd have thought that they would clump like an elephant, the exact opposite of the mousy steps of Lovett.
She cleared her throat slightly, at the bottom. "Just a little further," she assured him. Upon reaching a door in the very back, Lovett felt her impish nature surfacing again. She paused in front of the door, looking to him. Her left hand was placed firmly on her hip, considering that side of her body was just next to the door.
"It's usually locked to keep nosy little brats out," she began, eyeing him playfully (almost seductively, though it was completely unintentional), "so if you need the key," she purred as her right hand reached up to her chest, extracting a small metal key from between her breasts, "you'll have to come find me," she finished with a wink.
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