the former hostess of faded glory
Name: Parola Tristezza | Word of sadness
Petpet: Butler the Lil Frankie, for housekeeping
Home: La proprietà del Letto e Colazione | The Bed and Breakfast Estate | in the Haunted Woods, past the Stone Dome towards the Northern terrain.
Family: One twin sister, Fee, the owner of her own B&B on Terror Mountain
Occupation: Retired B&B owner
Personality: Reclusive and unresponsive. Obsessive. Slightly manic mannerisms.
Likes: Silence, isolation, darkness, full moons, gowns, tea, sweet pea
Dislikes: Visitors, noise, children, summer, coffee, birds
Defining qualities: Sweet pea perfume, a scar on her left arm, caused by glass shards in Room 313's window
Birthday: February 24, 2011
Adopted: November 1, 2011
Aha...I'm afraid I've gone a bit...mad.
the vengeance begins
Ma lei non ha detto una parola.
But she did not say a word.
In the heart of the densest trees of the Haunted Woods there is a lilac mansion, an abandoned Bed and Breakfast, it's former majesty now concealed by layers of cobwebs, dust and fallen leaves. It is nearly impossible to find, as there is no trail near the mansion. Only those who are lost find their way there, but these days no one dares knock on the door.
There is just one resident in the mansion, the owner of the fallen Bed and Breakfast. She is known as Parola.
Parola used to be a gracious and hospitable kacheek who cared for wanderers lost in the Woods. Her daughter, Lu, helped her run the mansion. The confused, frightened and injured would arrive at their doorstep. Parola and Lu would nurse them back to health, give them a compass, and send them on their way.
On November 1st during a full moon, a krawk with a scarred face arrived at the mansion. He wore only a black cloak and pleaded for help, saying he couldn't remember his name or where he was going. Parola took the krawk in and settled him in an empty room, Room 313. At 3am, Lu went to Room 313 check on the krawk's health. She never came out alive.
Parola never recovered from her daughter's loss. She vowed to never help another soul. Forever alone in her empty Bed and Breakfast, Parola drove herself insane. Residents of the Haunted Woods say that if you listen around 3am, you sometimes hear wailing and cackling coming from the direction of the mansion. No one has seen Parola in recent years. They say that she sits in Room 313 holding a large, silver knife and stares into the vacant darkness. Carved harshly on the wooden door are the words
Yes, who's there? came a warm voice from behind the front door. The doorknob turned, and the source of the voice revealed herself. Parola. She was a lovely snow white kacheek, with soft silvery curls and an elegant gown. She seemed out of breath and slightly flushed, as if she had just been running up and down the marble stairs behind her.
Please...please help me, he said. He was a camouflage colored krawk with a long, wide scar over his left eye. He wore a heavy black cloak and was leaning on a platinum walking stick. Please...could you tell who I am? Where I am? And who are you? I just...I don't know...what happened... His voice was scratchy. The thick timbre of his voice made Parola shiver, but it was common for her guests to be a bit roughed up.
Do come in, she said. You are at the B&B Estate, and I can take care of you. I am Parola, your host. Now let's see what we have here. She slowly led him up the stairs and down the East Wing corridor, to the farthest room from the main foyer. The bedroom door had a golden plaque that read Room 313.
Parola gently bathed the krawk, bandaged his scratches and gave him warm bread and butter. Once the krawk had finished his dinner, she asked him questions.
Do you know who you are?
No...no, I...I woke up in middle of the woods. I can't remember a thing...who I am, where I came from... he replied.
Do you have any idea as to where you were headed? Or why you were in the woods at all? Parola inquired.
I...no...I haven't a clue, he said innocently.
Not to worry, she said kindly. We will bring you to good health, and perhaps in time you will remember. My daughter will be in to check on your later. Good night, sir. And with that, Parola gave the krawk wool blankets and a hot water bottle, and left. The krawk merely stared after her.
A few hours later, a young kacheek softly rapped at Room 313's door. The krawk, still awake, opened the door.
Hello there, sir. I'm Lu. I'm quite sorry if I woke you. How are you feeling? asked the kacheek.
Not well, replied the krawk.
Oh dear. Is there anything I do for you, sir? Anything I can get you? Lu replied.
Ah...perhaps...could you come in? asked the krawk.
Lu obliged, closing the door behind her. A minute later, a piercing scream perforated the mansion, followed by the infamous sound of broken glass. Parola scrambled out of bed and ran towards the East Wing. She flung open 313's door, but it was too late. Lu lay on the floor. Beside her, a gleaming walking stick lay in the moonlight, dripping red. Parola knelt beside her daughter and held her, sobbing. She looked up as a gust of wind swept through her hair. The bedroom window was smashed. Parola rushed to the window, cutting her arm as she leaned out. Nothing. Nothing but empty trees with outstretched arms and crackled fingers. Footprints on the ground, right under the window, but not a sign of life. Parola turned around and saw a note on the bed.
a reflection of her lasting beauty
Below are different customizations I have given Parola during my time with her. They are not random however, I try to put a story behind each set of outfits to fit Parola's past. This is just my clever way of showing off my designs for her ina real context.
Parola - The Hostess
Always exquisite in looks and attire, Parola has undeniable charm. Last seen, Parola has pearly white curls that delicately bounced wherever she walked. Her cheeks were always bright pink with happiness. Her signature hand sewn black dress was the envy of every lady in the Haunted Woods. Because she tended to the fireplace and to the cooking herself, Parola often had bandages on her hands to cover her burns. Below are a few of the last images we have of her.
Parola allegedly does not leave her house, nor does she let anyone in. Even Fee has lost all regular communication with her. How she survives is a mystery. There is speculation, however, that Parola does not remain at home every day.
Every Halloween, a mysterious kacheek is seen throughout the Haunted Woods, the Deserted Fairgrounds, and Neovia. She walks silently and slowly, never acknowledging a soul. The residents refer to her as The Secret, because she is always well-disguised and never directly shows her face. The Secret is costumed as a child, but is clearly an adult. She makes several large purchases at a time. The kacheek never pays in neopoints, instead she brings vintage furniture, paintings, and antiques with which to trade. She carries her purchases into the dense northern woods, where no one can ever find her footprints on the paths. All they smell is sweet pea perfume.
The Haunted Woods residents believe this is Parola, buying her annual necessities discretely. No one has asked The Secret what her real name is, however. They are afraid. Community whispers fly quickly when she is spotted, but her face remains a mystery.
Do you think you have spotted Parola? Below are images of the most recent Secret sightings.
FarewellParola disappears down a dark hallway. You stand and watch her walk away from you; her candlelight flickers tremulously in the din and then putters out. The bed and breakfast is filled with darkness. You walk towards a beam of pearly mooon light and find the front door. You pull it open and it groans loudly, as if sighing with relief that you are exiting the mansion safely.
This concludes your first encounter with Parola, the hostess of former glory. You wonder if you should ever come back. Perhaps next time you will bring a friend with you for safety. In any case, you consider taking the button below, as a reminder of your eminent return.
You think about the many other characters in Neopia. Surely there are others more willing to receive your company. You try to remember the names you fleetingly saw in the bed and breakfast's guest book. Slowly, you smile as you realize that your journey forward can and will continue...to these lovely creatures next?
You turn back, giving the mansion a long look. A curtain on the top floor rustles. Was someone was watching you leave? You squint at the window, now empty. Suddenly you feel a deep sense of closer, as if somehow, deep down, Parola is thankful you stopped by.
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