she waltzed with the dead

aurie weir. banshee. dj at siren. Death has always followed me. I shall greet her next as an old friend, with the tender sweet caress of my hand on his cheek and a wail of terror tucked into the back of my throat.

[aurie-weir]

𝓂𝒾𝓈𝒸 𝒶𝓅𝓅 ( victoria pedretti. female, she/her, the dead waltz + radical face. ) supposedly, AURELIA "AURIE" WEIR is a BANSHEE. they look like they're TWENTY-FIVE, they act like they’ve been on earth for NINETY years. i just saw them at SIREN, i think they’re a DJ there. at night you can always find them going home to STATEN ISLAND by TRAIN. (jessica, 25, she/her, est)

Aurie was born and raised in the fingerlakes region in upstate New York by her mother alone, a beautiful countryside with the city entirely unfamiliar to her in her childhood.

Barefoot and unruly, her and her twin sister were thick as thieves with some of the other neighborhood children, frequenting the lakes and bordering lush woods, occasionally sneaking into the local vineyards to play their adventurous games of pretend.

Misfortune struck one winter when her sister caught ill, an assumed sickness derived from the chill. In truth, their mother never told them what they were, nor how their kind were a beacon for death itself. It could have been any one of them touched by its icy fingers, but it was her sister who slowly past in the cold, unforgiving night.

It was some time before Aurie learned the truth of it. Her mother never confessed until, she could only assume, worry and guilt forced her to sit her daughter down and at last explain the truth of things. What she was, and how- as her body and mind matured- things would change. Then, at last, came the truth of her sister’s death, and how that grief would build a shadow around her that would serve as a magnet for more death and misfortune. It would only grow as she moved throughout life.

Misery, since, has always been in Aurie’s company. It stalks her like a jilted lover, hovering over her sleeping form and stepping on her heels as she walks. She moved to the big city during her unfortunate life to not feel so unlucky and alone, surrounding herself with the pulsing brightness of life, incessant and unstoppable. It gives her the courage to move on.

Aurie both hates and loves what she does. She finds it both artistic and shallow. She provides an escape, and an unhealthy vice. Such is the oxymoron of life, and she lives with it in what contentment she can.

[chaloloo-moved]

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And in her gown beside the riverbed She got down on her knees And wrapped her long hair up in vines, and leaves, and branches And with the wind beneath her feet Oh, she waltzed with the dead

[h-arleen]

I’m like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster. And the monster feels my tiny little movements inside.