Welcome to Gaia! ::

After 45 minutes of driving, Marika's car slowed to a stop in front of an enormous, gray, victorian-style house. "Here we are." Marika turned and look Allen directly in the eye. "My. Humble. Abode." she whispered, her voice getting softer with each word and her head slightly cocked to the side. One small, simpering giggle escaped her lips before she pulled off her seat belt and got out of the car. She sauntered towards the door, absentmindedly humming "He plays the Violin" from the musical 1776, expecting Allen was following behind her.

When Marika reached the mahogany door, she flung it open and strode through the entry hall into the Bohemian-style living room. She finished humming her song and flopped herself down on a chair covered by a sun-faded fluffy cushion. She made a sweeping motion towards another chair, inviting Allen to sit down as well.

Marika pulled her long, blonde hair to one side, so that it all hung over one shoulder. She leaned forward and placed her arms on either side of her legs, so that her fingertips brushed the floor, and locked eyes with Allen. "So, tell me a little bit about yourself," she invited, watching him intensely.

Marika listened to Allen's description of himself, nodding vaguely every now and then. Her eyes widened slightly at the 'pleasure slave' bit; she certainly didn't want a slave for that sort of reason. But when he ended his miniature monologue with a mention of scripts for plays and musicals, her features became placid, and a smile crossed her lips. She leaned back in her cushy seat, her head dipped slightly back, but still looking at Allen. "I'm an actress." she stated, plain and simple. Then she leaned forward once more, her eyes staring off dreamily. "The stage, the stage. It's like a veil where real life and fantasy fuse. A bit like a masquerade, don't you think? We put on masks to hide who we truly are...but then again, our real selves shine through all the same..." her voice got quieter with each sentence. Marika was no poet (she rather detested writing), but had a habit for speaking in a poetic manner - it was just a quirk of her personality.

Marika smiled and nodded when Allen spoke about losing yourself to the character you play. She could rfemember the passion she felt for John Proctor when she was Abigail Williams in The Crucible. Then Allen spoke about his duties. "Oh, yes." Marika whispered, the volume of her voice lowering. "Ahhh...cooking and cleaning, that would be nice. And...you need to come with me to dress rehearsals and performances, to help me prep for the show. And, if, heaven forbid, the time should arise when my well-being is endangered, I need you to protect me." Marika's brow furrowed at this part. The world was quite dangerous when it came right down to it, and Marika knew as a young, single woman, she would need someone to protect her.

Marika nodded. "Thank you." she said as she smoothed her skirt and stood up. "Now that that's taken care of, would you like to take a look at the house? There's a pool in the back and a few rooms upstairs for you to choose from."

Marika shook her head. "Only my bedroom and bathroom. Other than that, so long as you don't make a mess of anything, you can explore the house and grounds all you like." she indicated her whole home with a sweep of her arm. "Of course, I'd like to give you an itsy bitsy bit of a tour." she used her left index and middle finger to make a walking motion in the air. "So I shall come with you." she swept past him, towards the staircase. She reached it, hugging the pillar at the end of the banister, and swinging back and forth slightly.