Bad Romance. [Prologue/?]
Title: Bad Romance
Chapter: Prologue
Characters: Eimear [Ee-mer] O'Donnell, Ville Valo, etc
Summary: Irish girl, Finnish heart.
Disclaimer: I don't own the people (well except Eimear. She's mine bitches). Just the words.
Eimear Maisy O'Donnell was probably the most atypical Irish girl. At a young age, she'd consciously ditched the soft lilting tones of her Dublin-born accent, and decided upon the 'more proper' English accents from children's television.
As soon as she turned eighteen, she moved to Helsinki. A spur of the moment decision, which she made with the £1000 cheque her parents had written her on the day. She left with nothing but her passport, a bottle of purple hair dye, her sketchbook, three pens (red, black and green) and the clothes on her back. Her bohemian parents hadn't minded much, with the opportunity for personal growth on their daughter's doorstep, they felt the opportunity, while unusual, would be useful. Their only question was, "Why Finland?". To which Eimear retorted, "Why the hell not?"
Oh, the only problem was that she didn't know a single word of Finnish.
I don't need to bore you with the details much. To cut a long story short, she got a job in a cafe to raise enough money to buy art supplies and pay her rent. Those were her priorities. Anything else (even food) was considered a luxury. Alas, slowly but surely, she began to learn the language and before long she'd made some genuine friends in the staff at the cafe, and the manager even liked her work enough to hang a few of the paintings in the shop. Even when her 'big break' came when a chance customer had purchased several of the pieces for a gallery, she refused to quit the job. Painting was a passion, a hobby, she never wanted it to become a full-time venture. It would lose it's magic that way.
It was just an ordinary day in the blisteringly cold Helsinki December, edging ever-closer to Christmas, and the shop was buzzing with customers desperate for a hot beverage, most not really caring what it was, as long as it warmed them up. Eimear, despite working in the cafe for several years now, still wasn't entirely used to the winter rush, and on her way to clear the tables, she managed to trip, landing straight in a customer's lap.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry-" she paused, turning to check the gender of the person who's lap she was now perched upon, and getting lost in his bright green eyes. "...-sir"
This "sir" happened to be a very handsome gentleman who simply let out a throaty, hiccup-y laugh as he helped her to her feet, all the time a rose blush rising on her cheeks.
"You're blushing. I'm not sure but I'm entirely sure that isn't appropriate behaviour for the work place m'lady" He said, winking.
Of course, this made her blush more, and as she turned to hurry off before the manager caught her slacking, the man swooped from his seat and headed for the door. Part of her wanted to call for him to wait, so she could get his number, or at least redeem herself from the horrible mess she'd just inadvertently dug herself into. She hoped he'd come back, but sincerely doubted it, even just so she could mentally capture those eyes and cheekbones for future reference, to paint of course...
As it turns out, she needn't have worried at all.