rosenthalfm

[rosenthalfm]

hey guys , libby here ! way too late to this fun lil party , and here to present you with only the bare minimum of a backstory , and the shell of a personality . ugh ! my mind ! i had so many ideas for the rosenthal’s bleeding heart , but alas ... i struggled to put most of it into words . ig that’s what happens when you decide to create a brand spankin’ new muse . here’s to hoping she’ll flesh out better in interactions than she did in this lil intro post . but now , without further ado , i present to you my environmentalist in the making ! and if you want to plot hit that lil heart and i’ll be breaking down the door of your discord in a real hot minute !

。· . ˙ ☀ ⌈ kelsey merritt + cis female + she / her + the black sheep ⌋ yo , have you meet that POGUE , sadie rosenthal , yet ? — no ? well , to give you a little heads up before you do , they’re a TWENTY-ONE year old , WAITRESS AT DORO’S DINER AND ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES STUDENT , and have been living in coston for TEN YEARS . since i’ve known them , they’ve reminded me of MEANINGFUL CONVERSATIONS WITH A STRANGER , MELTED ICE CREAM DRIPPING DOWN FINGERS DECORATED WITH TINY GOLD RINGS , TANGERINE PEELS DROPPED INTO A WINE GLASS , A WINDOW WIDE OPEN TO THE GLARE OF THE MORNING SUN , WHITE LINEN PANTS AND ALWAYS BARE FEET . usually they’re quite ALTRUISTIC & ECCENTRIC but just make sure you keep an eye out for them around town because i heard can be quite FLIGHTY & ORNERY as well so here’s hoping they aren’t the ones to undo this whole peace pact they have going on this summer . but just between you & me , i kinda hope it all falls apart . the rivalry keeps this whole boring town interesting . ✏ libby, twenty, she / her, cst

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

sadie rosenthal had been conceived on a yacht anchored in the south of france , or perhaps on one of the white beaches right where the tide ebbed and flowed , where the water began to froth , where the land met the sea ( the specifics were buffudled , but all that mattered was that she was ). think : sunkissed limbs tangled together in a fervid frenzy that burned hotter than the summer sun , water-woven hair , and foaming waves stretching around knotted bodies like a blanket . think : two strangers drunk off a shared bottle of dom pérignon . think : lust mistaken for love . sadie had been born the dampened finger that extinguished a scorching flame , this wailing and pink thing , who entered the world choking on her own saltwater tears ,  had bound two unwilling strangers together for life . 

she had aged right where she had been brought into being , along the edge of the sea , where the sweeping sky muddled with the waves ( should she lie with her back flat , the two were interchangeable ). it was there that she had grown to feel most at home , toes curling into the warm sand as she flipped through pages upon pages of heavy books that looked rather odd in her tiny and tremoring grasp . sadie rosenthal had always felt more like a cracked cone oozing melted butter pecan gelato , or fior di latte , or whatever sweetened flavor had slipped from someone’s clutches and been left to fester , than girl ( she was but a brief blip of joy , not unlike the sticky and sand riddled treat . but where the two differed was that she had always been unwanted ). 

reared only partially ( and even that choice of word was a bit too generous ) by a cutthroat stockbroker who read more like a caricature plucked right off the pages of a wolf on wall street than an actual man , she had taught herself from a young age that simply being aubrey rosenthal’s offspring did not permiss her his love , learned to live off his fleeting affections and fleeting presence. raised only a wee bit more by a woman who read more like an new author’s unfinished , unedited first draft ( the kind of flourishing prose that possessed no meaning further than surface level prettiness , the kind of prose that publishing houses aplenty would reject ), sadie felt more adult , more complete ,  at age twelve than she imagined adrienne almonte might ever be . but while she might have existed in a world of her own , at least her mother was there . manic and messy , an abstract artist , who smeared paint across canvases that littered every corner of their little chateau by the sea , across the wallpapered walls , the busts and books that lined the shelves , but there . her father had only left mere pieces of himself throughout their house , his smoked cigars left behind in all the little nooks and crannies , his festering glass of scotch on his bedside table , another on the group near his armchair in the study , crooked portraits of the three hung haphazardly upon the walls , but he only showed face for weeks at a time before returning to his real family . 

it wasn’t until her father’s first wife had begun to question exactly where he had been wiring all that money to ( soon after , filing for a divorce ), that he had moved his replacement family into his real home . and sadie had come to the sudden realization that she found it much easier to love her father from afar . 

a microscope was not needed to assess the damning damage that had turned aubrey rosenthal into the shell of the man he once was , the hoax that sadie had grown to adore . she had cut out clippings in a magazine that highlighted the family-man and his benevolent streak , tucked them into her books and used them as page markers , felt her heart swell knowing that the man who had birthed her was so good . no , she might not have been apart of the family in question , but one mistake ( yes , she is considered a mistake . he knows that , and she knows that ) made in the heat of the moment didn’t make him bad . it was all that deceit , all that rot , his fraudulent manner guised by his generous donations to charities that he had barely researched , that turned sadie’s adoration into disgust . she decided then and there that her goodness need not be contingent on saving face , that she could make her mark on the world without the copious sums of money and the page six articles . 

𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑠

sadie has always felt out of place , a tad bit too posh to truly fit in with the pogue’s ( a side effect of her plush private school education and bottomless bank account ), a wee bit too rugged to truly fit in with the kooks ( she’d always felt as if she had been more gilded than gold , tarnished by green hues of patina . vintage and second hand in the way that might have caused them to turn up their noses ) . she had been born unto a great deal of money , but she had been kept tucked far away from high society , like an ugly secret blooming beneath the surface . and while she spent her days claiming that she didn’t have money , her father did , that didn’t stop her from funding her own college with the checks he wired into her account in place of an apology . 

she’s always had expensive taste , and though she lives in a small beach shack far from her family’s large second home on figure eight island , it’s furnished rather lavishly . though she purchased it all herself ( waitressing is great money when it’s not being placed aside for college ). It’s all a bit bohemian luxe , with vintage morroccan rugs lain over the cracked flooring , faux ( of course ) mongolian fur littered throughout the space ( though it looked great , it wasn’t the best interior design choice for a girl who spent her days on the beach ), large and small , but all antique and all ornate  mirrors nailed into the walls , bright jewel toned colors and far too many old books stacked on every open surface . it looked a bit like something that might be seen in an anthropologie catalogue.  

she’s thrifted almost all the clothing , and books she owns , making for quite an eclectic taste in clothing and novels . 

her love for the environment had began the moment she picked up her first cracked and worn coffee table book , flipping through pages upon pages of images of the rainforest . she substituted story books for all of mother’s coffee rimmed table books , skimmed through them with the same fascination other girls her age might have read eloise at the plaza with . by the age of eleven she was reading the pages of environmental ethics books , not fully understanding but knowing that she wanted to . 

she’s a pescatarian , finding it a bit too difficult to eat meat after the many documentaries she had viewed over the years . luckily , it was no difficult feat finding good seafood so close to the water .