In fair Verona, our tale begins with HAZEL ACCARDI, who is TWENTY-THREE years old. She is often called HERMIA and is NEUTRAL. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.
She was born with Godâs light shining down on her, and it was quite a strange burden to bear. Strange, because it didnât weigh on her the way one would expect it to. It didnât pummel grooves into her tender shoulder blades or ply her newly-formed bones apart; instead, it washed over her like the waters of a gently-flowing river, wrapping around her and ensconcing her in a state of peaceful tranquility that immediately branded her as a BLESSED child in the awed eyes of her mother as she finally welcomed her into the world. Hazel was the name she was given, and she was the apple of her parentsâ eye in every sense of the term. FAITH was the axis upon which the Accardi household stood, and thus it became the epicenter around which Hazelâs upbringing revolvedâwith religious idols littering every corner and hanging from every wall; prayers uttered with the habitual lilt of an idly-thrown comment; threats of monsters in the light of day when a plate of vegetables was left unfinished, and tales of angels in the darkness of night when there was nothing left to do but guard a childâs mind as it soared through skies and sank through oceans. To some, it might be considered a stifling, strict environment; but in reality, it was as nurturing and fulfilling as it could be for the girl who would grow to EMBRACE the light that guided her birth rather than shun it and cast it away.
However, as beaming and all-encompassing as the light was, it was gradually eclipsed by shadow the more Hazel grew and the further the world stretched before her eyesâespecially after she enrolled in college. Her transition from childhood into adulthood had been somewhat stagnant as Hazel remained, for the most part, unchanged throughout it. She was still the quiet, intuitive, exceptionally ordinary LONER that she had always been, and she didnât expect that to be affected by her new environment whatsoever. But then she stepped foot into the uncharted territory of a brand new stage in her lifeâand she was floored by the sights that welcomed her. Although Hazel was sheltered in many ways, she certainly wasnât detached from her generation and the notions that dominated it but it was almost as though those notions were emphasized in her new community. Liberty abounded in every aspect; from the political, to the social, to the philosophical, and it seemed like the majority of those who surrounded Hazel bore nothing but APATHY to the visceral, untouchable concepts of faith and belief that had ruled her for as long as she could remember. But surprisingly enough, Hazel didnât allow that to turn her into an outcast; she didnât allow herself to sink into the background but instead, threw herself into the foreign fray with a VIGOR that she could hardly grasp. And the more she learned about the world that seemed so alien from her own, the more she learned about herselfâalthough, she couldnât say that she learned so much as she started asking questions that garnered no answers. Who am I? Why do I feel the way I feel? What does it mean? Whatâs the point of it all?
Those thoughts began as nothing more than curious musings but they quickly spiraled into obsessive inquiries, and they seemed to rear their ugly, reeling heads in every waking moment and every sleepless night until her life became a CAGE OF MIRRORS and Hazel became its prisonerâbound and burdened to observe what was reflected on the bars with maddening scrutiny until any semblance of MEANING was found. One would think that such inner conflict could only arise from the hand of God that had strung her along this path, but being a pillar of faith in a desensitized world, for all the struggle it sometimes caused her, wasnât the reason why Hazel lost her sense of belonging. She was too firm in her belief to abandon it for the meager purpose of conforming to the normâthe problem was, as she fearfully realized, she didnât seem to conform to any norm; hers or that of the people around her. Her perception was one of EXTREMES and thus she believed that it could only be one or the otherâher religion or her identity; her holy doctrine or the social liberties that she wished to take; the love of her life or the bond of her family. In her confusion and disillusionment,she didnât realize that there would be no need for any choice or any compromise if she only ACCEPTED herselfâas Hazel eventually did. After countless heartbreaks and endless unanswered questions, she finally learned that a search of happiness was fruitless if one embarked on it by tearing and slicing at parts of themselvesâit could only be found with the entirety of oneâs being as an imperfect, HUMAN whole.
That simple string of thought was all it took, and in a matter of months, Hazel started building her life anew; and it wasnât in her isolated hometown nor was it in the glamorous city of Milan, but in fair Verona. After all, what could possibly be more fitting than the city of dreamers and idols alike, even if it was drenched in blood? But only a foolish saint believed that they could walk through a city of such sin with unblemished hands and clean soles of feetâand that was Hazelâs damning MISTAKE. Her new beginning had quite a steep price, and it was only within weeks of moving to Verona that she found herself backed into a corner, penniless and starved, with no choice but to take loans from one of the ever-generous banks that littered the city. Although she was aware of its roiling, rotten underbelly, Hazel, as a newcomer, didnât grasp just how far its roots stretchedâbut when she finally did, it was already too late. It turned out that the bank was built upon the same foundation of blood and bones that upheld the legacy of those who carried the Montague name, and the moment her debts were due, Hazel was unwittingly TRAPPED beneath its crimson brand. Somehow, the mob found out about the path of forgery that had paved the way for her journey, and they demanded that Hazel forge documents on the Montaguesâ behalf in exchange for gradual payment of her debts. Indeed, her motherâs saying held trueâeven when driven by the PUREST intentions, sin always finds a way to tarnish oneâs heart. Will hers bear the mark, or will it wither in its shadow? Only borrowed time will tell.
HARLEY BRENTON: Beloved. She met her in her hometown, and in a place so stagnant and barren of any change, Harleyâs abrupt appearance in her life was a much-needed breath of fresh airâone that Hazel could no longer live without once their tentative friendship flourished into a star-written romance. Harley was everything Hazel was not at that time; obnoxiously loud, vigorously outspoken, and unabashedly herself. And it seemed as though the moment she had stepped foot into the town, with her glowing eyes and cheeky smile, she walked right into Hazelâs heart. But thatâs the problem with being too young and too in love, isnât it? You fall into it way too fast, and when you finally crumble into the ground, you find that you have no way of picking your pieces up and putting them back togetherânot without your beloved by your side. Hazelâs pieces were already scattered by the time Harley had pummeled her way into her life, and she didnât even know what shape they were supposed to fit into if put together. Harley had tried to convince her that she didnât have to make such a discovery alone, but Hazel knew that she must. If she didnât know who she was, how on earth was she supposed to give herself over to the person who had earned her? And so, Hazel left. But somehow, someway, she ends up running into Harley yet again, years after she had broken her heart, miles away from where they had first met. Now, Hazel is whole but sheâs unsure if thereâs any room left for Harley to take up her former place.
HUGO KIM: Best friend. Hazel was skeptical at first; after all, if the banks are under mob influence then surely the churches are, as well. But in a city full of wicked strangers and fickle secrets, sheâs found herself drawn to the only sanctuary she knowsâand thatâs where she met Hugo. A session in a confessional was meant to be just like any other, but instead, it had sown a seed of friendship between two people who found a likeness in each other that they couldnât seem to find in anyone else. A lot about Hugo still remains a mystery to her, and a lot about Hazel seems to elude the man in quite a similar manner, but that hasnât stopped them from continually seeking comfort and solace in each other. After all, they live in a city too selfish to grant them any on its own.
PRIAM TARAVELLA: Ghost. Itâs the hollowness in his eyes that draws Hazel to him. A chance encounter in a seedy bar set them on each otherâs paths, and Hazel found herself absolutely gripped by the vision of the Taravella man. With his opulence and grace, he seemed to be carved from blades of light, and yet he still seemed to lean into the tendrils of darkness that coiled him into their grasp. With his steadiness and quietude, he seemed as ordinary in his mystery as any of the other Veronans she had come across thus far, and yet there was a strangeness to the secrets that burrowed beneath his eyes and huddled into the corners of his lips. They only exchanged a handful of words that night, but Hazel couldnât help the intrigue that has grabbed hold of her ever since. However, thatâs how the story always goes, isnât it? Light is always drawn to darknessâright before itâs swallowed whole.
RAMONA AGUILAR: Anomaly. Sheâs the soldier in charge of overseeing the work Hazel does for the mob, but strangely enough, in place of a callous prison guard, she has only found a kind companion. Their first encounter was a rather unpleasant one; with Hazel sitting rigid in the chair she had occupied in one of the business offices in To Tame a Soup, arms crossed and brows furrowed as she refused to even spare the documents a glanceâand with Ramona bearing down on her from the opposite end of the table, lips pursed and eyes pleading as she implored Hazel to do as sheâs been ordered. The stand-off could have lasted for hoursâbut then Ramona had pulled out a gun, and thus Hazelâs fate was sealed in the Montaguesâ hands. She had harbored distaste towards Ramona for that reason, but as the meetings progressed and the distance was bridged, Hazel eventually grew to see beyond the smokescreen the soldier had projected, and now she only harbors sympathy for her. However, despite the alliance she has forged with Ramona, there will come a time where their common burdens will inevitably force their handsâand theyâll either be together or apart when they do.
Hazel is portrayed by HUNTER SCHAFER was written by JEN. She is currently TAKEN by BRIDGET.
