Player Info

Name: Kristin
Age: 20
Time Zone: EST
AIM: Winsome Wizard
Email: Badfairy@gmail.com
Experience: Erm…8-9 years, I believe? I could be totally off on that. Haaah…

Character Info

Name: Greta Lynn Wildente

Date of Birth/Age: June 4, 1986; 23

Story of Origin: Hansel and Gretel

Why are they in the City?: She’s lived there all her life.

Occupation (if any): Clerk at ‘The Gingerbread House’; a local bakery.

Good or Evil? Why?: Gretel is good, for the most part. To the public eye, she is sweet as pie, and is the ‘good twin’ when compared to her brother, but she is hardly perfect. She is, however, easily persuaded…

Physical Description: Without question, Gretel is a beautiful girl. Large blue eyes and a smile that can light up a room are among her more endearing qualities. Her nose is a little flat at the bridge, and her figure, while fairly shapely, is nothing special. She’s quite petite, which sometimes gives people the impression that she’s younger than she actually is.

PB (please include a picture):
Kristen Bell


Background/History (Two Paragraphs Minimum):

Once upon a time…August and Elsa Wildente were happy. The love they had for each other kept their hopes up, even in the darkest of times. They married young, only 20 years of age when they exchanged their vows, and wanted to start a family as soon as possible. Despite the fact that they could barely afford to feed themselves, all either one of them wanted was a child. Months passed by, and eventually Elsa became pregnant. The couple was overjoyed, and thanked God for their little miracle…only to find out that they were not only expecting one, but two children. They weren’t sure what to make of this news, since this meant another mouth to feed…but August told his wife that things would be alright; that he would take care of her and the children, even if they wound up having 50 of them.

This would have been a very chivalrous offer, had August earned money for his family in a decent, moral way. Instead, desperate to keep his family fed and sheltered, he became part of the City’s innermost drug ring. He sold everything to anyone, if it meant making some decent cash. Unfortunately, his occupation got his family into more trouble than it did help them. On a cold November night, 6 years after his darling children (Greta Lynn and Hans Elliot) were born, both he and his wife were brutally murdered, all because of a bad drug deal. The children were instructed to hide quietly beneath the floorboards, where Hans held his sister, covering her mouth with his hand to stifle her sobs and whimpers. Once the monsters who had killed their parents were far gone, they emerged from their hiding spots. Since the little girl was too shaken up to do much of anything, the young boy took charge…and he did rather well, for only being 6 years of age. He gathered a loaf of bread for each of them, so they wouldn’t starve that night, and told his sister that they needed to get out of there quickly, in case more people came looking for them. Greta trusted her brother, and grabbed his hand as they headed off into the night.

It wasn’t long before they were found by the local police, all because they had accidently left a faint trail of crumbs to their hiding spot. They were only children, after all. It wasn’t too surprising that they weren’t the tidiest or most careful of individuals at that time.

That night, Greta and Hans were placed into an orphanage, and after that, they were sent from one foster home to the next, each one worse than the one before. Hans became angry with their living situation, and often times acted out, whether it be for attention or just for his own amusement. Sometimes even his sister couldn’t tell, but she’d try and keep him out of trouble the best she could, since she was the only person who could. Hans wouldn’t listen to anyone but Greta, and even as they got older, that never changed.

Once the two twins were eighteen, Hans and Greta stayed together and found a cheap apartment within the City. She got a job at the local Bakery, standing behind a counter handing out all sorts of treats for hungry customers. While it doesn’t pay much, she’s happy with the work, and tries to keep her head up. All she can do is hope that Hans doesn’t try anything stupid, should things get even tougher…

Personality: Personable and friendly…for the most part. She’s toughened up a bit over the years, and doesn’t take too much crap from anyone…though she isn’t brave enough to stand up for herself. Most of the time, she just ignores things or people that are bothering her, since she knows dwelling on them won’t do her any good. It takes a bit of work to get her angry, but it isn’t very hard to annoy her.

While Greta is a good girl, she isn’t as perfect as everyone thinks she is. She has her flaws, and some of them are worse than others. For example, there are bottles of Gin and Tequila stashed within her closet; two of her best friends, after a long day of work. It wouldn’t be fair to call her an alcoholic, really…but she’s on the border line. It just makes things easier to deal with, when you can’t concentrate on all the horrible things that are going on around you.

Other: Uh…she should have plot with the Big Bad Wolf, eventually? :]?

Sample Journal Entry: (First Person)

My head feels like it has been smashed by a hammer.

And then run over by a car.

And then beaten in with a baseball bat. Ugh. Every time I look at a light, I feel like I want to crawl into a hole and die. This sucks. I have work in 3 hours, and I don't even feel like standing up, let alone walking around a hot bakery, with people shouting orders at me like I'm some sort of pastry slave. That should just be my new job title: Pastry Slave.

Cakes are only associated with misery ever since I got this job. They used to be awesome. Cakes are like...the champagne of desserts; whenever there's a cake, someone is celebrating something. A birthday, a graduation, a marriage...whatever the case may be, cake is always there. That's what I used to think, at least. Now, whenever I see a cake, I associate it with a cranky-ass customer who wants what they want when they want it. Oh, and if you write something incorrectly with the frosting, or if it smudges and looks like something completely different, there's all hell to pay.

Try handing someone a cake that appears to read 'Happy Birthday Little Fuck', when the kid is turning 5 and his name is Chuck.

Just try it.

Sample Narrative: (Third Person)

Peering around the corner, Greta made sure the coast was clear before she slipped out of the kitchen, quickly trying to make her way over to the other side of the bakery before someone could stop her and ask for more sprinkles, or if she counted whenever she asked if someone would like ‘extra sugar’. It made her nauseated, that people could turn something as homey as a bakery into something as sleazy as a brothel. It was nearing the end of her break, and she had slipped out back to get some fresh air. She still had some time to waste, and thought she would go across the street to the Deli to get herself a sandwich, since eating cake and cookies all day was going to make her sick. As her hand extended forward for the knob of the door, that’s when it happened.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

The words made her cringe, but thankfully her back was to the paying patron. Pivoting on her heel, she replaced her scowl with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m on my b-“

“Oh, but I just need some more honey for my tea!”

“Isn’t there an extra jar over on the counter there? You can just-..”

“It’s empty!”

Feeling as though her eye were about to start twitching at any moment, she tucked some of her hair behind her ear and let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course it is…” Her eyes lifted to focus on the woman who had stopped her in her tracks, and she gave her a bit of a forced, tight lipped smile. “I’ll get that for you right away.” Turning, she thought she was about to complete a momentary task for her, until-

“And I’ll also be needing an order of muffins, while you’re back there!”

She stopped in her tracks, and looked over her shoulder, her face dropping before she cleared her throat and forced another smile. “Um…sure, of course. Right away.” Shuffling off into the back, she scowled as she grudgingly grabbed the large jar of honey sitting on top of the shelf.

”Greta, aren’t you still on break?”

Sighing heavily, she turned to look at her co-worker over her shoulder. “Don’t remind me…”



"Little duck, little duck, dost thou see,
Hansel and Gretel are waiting for thee?
There's never a plank, or bridge in sight,
Take us across on thy back so white."