<strong>Name:</strong>Molly Popkiss<br/><strong>Age:</strong>20 years<br/><br/>A cascade of blonde curls fell in front of her face as Molly removed her hat. The freckles across her nose came together as she scrunched her face at the sudden smell of dust and mold. The museum had gotten one of the most exciting relics to be told about - even more so than anything that'd come out of Africa or Greece. And she'd come, alongside the man her father wished for her to marry, to smell the terrible stench and deal with the crowds.<br/><br/>"Are you sure this is where you want to be?" she asked him, smoothing her hands down the bronze-colored corset. She knew it looked it; it<em>always</em>looked good. Even the underskirts, pristine and white and barely peeking out from below her lighter brown skirt, were breathtaking. She tried hard to make herself look like this and anything less than her best was frankly insulting.<br/><br/>She played with the feather in her hat as another group of people came to stare at the relic. She inched closer to her escort and frowned. Her dress would be ruined at this rate...