"So what if I did?" Bree countered her question with one of her own, a challenge in her voice. "What are you gonna do, tell on me?” It didn’t take long for the bitterness that was so characteristic of her interactions with Alice to settle into her voice, like a python slithering in — not killing, but coiling to do so, daring Alice to give it a reason to pounce.
"No." Simple, honest. Two things Alice was not, but tried to be. She could feel her pulse race as if this was some great test or event, when it should have only been the basest conversation. She shrugged, trying to grasp a casualness she did not feel. "I just thought you liked gin better than whiskey. You've got a braver throat than I."
If Goldilocks and the Three Bears had jam instead of porridge, and they tried yours instead of fictional oats, they'd be just right. Every time.
The goal is like that last Batman movie, with Michael Caine. I sit around in my house for seven years in my pajamas, and you just - just Michael Caine it.
It was her favourite kind of years, the days leading up to hours within which she shed herself like a reptile does its skin, pulling on the suit of another for an evening.
Or rather, a vintage silk evening gown at once reminiscent of Lauren Bacall and Jessica Rabbit. Or maybe the black velvet suit in the back, paired with calculatedly purple makeup reminiscent of an animated, underwater villain. The possibilities were endless, because everyone that was not her was a possible choice. But with Halloween less than two weeks away, it was time for her to narrow it down -- yet as she rounded the corner to where she knew a mirror resided, there was a familiar reflection captured in its surface.
"Well," Alice greeted the new plainclothes arrival by stopping short, leaning against the wall. "I suppose I'll look a little overdressed now, if I come and stand next to you."
" I can become your first kiss... or a torn out image from a Playboy magazine that you found when you were nine years old. Am I your secretary or am I your daughter? Maybe I'm your seventh grade math teacher you always hated. All I know is that if I do it right, I can become your living, breathing, unflinching dream, and then I can actually disappear."
ORIGINS & FAMILY:
Name: Alice Pleasance Kingsley.
Nickname: "The Sparkling Diamond," occasionally "Ali."
Reason for name: A play on her position at the White Diamond.
Birthday: February 29th on Leap Years; Celebrated on March 1st when not.
Age: Twenty-Four.
Gender: Cisgender Female.
Place of birth: Unknown.
Places lived since: Wonderland, Chicago. Before this, unknown, but presumed Chicago.
Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations: Birth parents unknown. Adopted Mother: Vivianne Spade, matriarch/leader of the Black Spades and owner of The White Diamond. Adopted Father: Edward Spade, deceased. Former leader of the Black Spades.
Number of siblings: Birth family unknown. Adopted siblings: four. James, Brianna, Tyler, and Allison.
Relationship with family (close? estranged?): Considers herself close with all her family, excepting Brianna, who shows immense bitterness towards her. Ironically, as children, they were closest.
Happiest memory: Dressing Bree up in some of the clothes she had just been given for her birthday, age eleven.
Childhood trauma: Seeing one of the Black Spades mutilated on the streets at age nine. He had often played tag with or indulged Alice, becoming something of a playmate. He was only twenty-four when he was killed.
Children of his/her own?: None, though she would like some down the road, though she thinks of this faraway time rather abstractly, not really believing it will happen.
If so, relationship with their mother/father?: N/A.
Age he/she gave birth/became a father: N/A.
PHYSICAL
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 107lbs.
Build: Slim/petite, with naturally big breasts.
Nationality: American.
Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): Mild anxiety, chronic depression, and post traumatic stress disorder. The latter and many episodes of the former two are a result of her torture by Jabba. No physical disabilities.
Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birth marks): Was taught to take good care of her skin as a child, and as such rarely dealt with acne; currently has a very clear complexion. Pale skin tone. Few birth marks scattered between neck and knees. Various scars (not visible with generic clothes on) from Jabba.
Eye color: Light blue/grey with some green pigment.
Glasses? Contacts?: Neither is necessary, though she does have a pair of nonprescription glasses.
Style of dress/typical outfit(s): Classic with an edge. She prefers dresses and skirts to pants.
Typical style of shoes: High heels, most often, or flats. Expensive.
Health (is this person usually sick? or very resilient?):
Grooming (does she/he wear makeup? shower daily? wear only clean clothes? pluck her eyebrows?): Appearance has always been important to her; she always wears makeup, though usually only a minimal amount to maintain a natural look. Showers but does not wash hair daily. Leaving the house, yes, her clothes are always clean. When alone/indoors, her sweatpants are rarely washed as they don't see a lot of dirt/mess anyway. She goes to salons to have waxing and plucking done.
Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: Only her earlobes pierced.
Accent?: None.
Unique mannerisms/physical habits (bites nails, talks with hands, taps feet when restless): Tends to pivot one foot on its toes, swiveling her foot on the rotation of her ankle while she's bored/waiting. Taps the heels of her feet together (not unlike Dorothy in Oz) repeatedly in similar situations.
Athletic?: No, but she rarely had opportunity to try in her younger years. She has notable endurance when running/doing cardio.
INTELLECT
Level of education (high school drop out, undergrad BA/BS, PhD, MD, etc.): High school graduate.
Level of self esteem: Low to very low.
Gifts/talents: Sweet singing voice, though rarely used. Has a natural talent for making people comfortable.
Shortcomings: Devalues herself, and therefore rarely lets her real self come through. Twists herself to fist what she believes each individual wants from her. Overly emotional.
Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): Clear and articulate, though the actual spoken thoughts can be a bit confusing or go in circles.
“Left brain” or “right brain” thinker?: Right brain.
Artistic?: Yes, though rarely exercises this.
Mathematical?: No.
Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: Emotions.
Neuroses: Anxiety.
Life philosophy: You can love anyone, or find something to love in everything, if you look hard enough.
Religious stance: Agnostic.
Cautious or daring?: Daring, in the things that should scare her; cautious about the things hat shouldn't.
Most sensitive about/vulnerable to: Being abandoned/not needed or loved.
Optimist or pessimist?: Optimist.
Extrovert or introvert?: Introvert.
Level of comfort with technology: High, although she prefers things like books and one on one communication.
RELATIONSHIPS
Current marital/relationship status: Single.
Sexual orientation: Pansexual.
Past relationships: None of note. Excepting an actual title, John Rabbit was the most significant.
Primary reason for being broken up with: N/A.
Primary reasons for breaking up with people: N/A.
Level of sexual experience: Extremely high, as sex is her job.
Story of first kiss (if any—if not, how does he/she want it to happen?): She briefly kissed the boy that picked her flowers at recess, in the second grade. He called her gross. Aside from that, she was fourteen and kissed by her crush in Seven Minutes in Heaven in a closet.
Story of loss of virginity (if any—if not, how does he/she want it to happen, if at all?): Inspired by geisha's tradition of mizuage, Alice let her virginity be auctioned off to the highest bidder. He was a businessman in his 40s, she doesn't remember much. He wanted to be on top, it was over in a matter of six minutes, and he smelt like cigarettes and laundry.
A social person? (popular, loner, some close friends, makes friends and then quickly drops them): Very popular, and often makes new acquaintances wherever she goes, though they rarely become real friends.
Most comfortable around (person): John "Whitey" Rabbit.
Oldest friend: Dinah Ocelot.
How does he/she think others perceive him/her?: Depends on the individual, but generally charming and flirtatious.
How do others actually perceive him/her?: Charming, if not a bit odd.
VOCATION
Profession: Courtesan at The White Diamond.
Past occupations: None.
Passions: Interior design, female jazz singers.
Attitude towards current job: Believes she owes everything to her job, and therefore her adopted parents that gave it to her - but its more or less sucking the soul out of her.
Attitude towards current coworkers, bosses, employees: Likes mostly everyone.
Salary: Fluctuates because of gifts, tips, and number of appointments booked, but generally $600,000 - $1,000,000 for a year.
SECRETS
(Every character—no matter how minor—should always have secrets!)
Phobias: Because of PTSD, enclosed, dark spaces.
Life goals: To fine her "thing." Her passion.
Dreams: To live somewhere outside of Wonderland, doing something outside of prostitution.
Greatest fears: Being abandoned/no longer needed or loved.
Most ashamed of: Her lack of talents/education.
Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her:
Compulsions: None.
Obsessions: None.
Secret hobbies: Collecting old movie props, vintage/mismatching tea sets.
Secret skills: An eye for interior design/decoration.
Past sexual transgressions: None.
Crimes committed (and was he/she caught? charged?): Technically, and continually, prostitution. Minor charges of trespassing, all dismissed. Underage possession and consumption of alcohol, also dismissed due to family's power.
What he/she most wants to change about his/her current life: Everything.
What he/she most wants to change about his/her physical appearance: Erase the scars given by Jabba.
DETAILS/QUIRKS
Daily routine: Wake-up, work out before breakfast to more efficiently burn calories, shower, eat breakfast, do yoga/stretching, go to work, return home, shower again, go out for dinner/drinks, sleep.
Night owl or early bird?: Night owl.
Light or heavy sleeper?: Light.
Favorite food: Pot roast.
Least favorite food: Vanilla pudding.
Favorite book: Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie.
Least favorite book: The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.
Favorite movie: An American in Paris.
Least favorite movie: Cinderella.
Favorite song: Is That All There Is by Peggy Lee.
Least favorite song: We No Speak Americano by Yolanda Be Cool & DCUP.
Coffee or tea?: Tea.
Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?: Crunchy.
Type of car he/she drives (or wishes he/she drove): White Range Rover and a vintage Porsche convertible.
Lefty or righty?: Lefty.
Favorite color: Light blue.
Cusser?: No; hearing her swear is very rare.
Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: Social drinker, occasional pot smoker. No cigarettes or hard drugs.
Biggest regret: Not trying harder in school/going to university.
I don’t know, she might. She’ll come to tell you all about things you’re not supposed to do. Shove a spoonful of sugar down your throat. Scratch that, in Wonderland sugar would probably be something like crack.
Remind me of that if my criminal career path comes to an end. I’ll be a part-time manny, part-time sexy chimney sweep.
Oh. Oh. No no no, don't ruin Mary Poppins for me like that, Fitz!
Well, I should hope not. I thought when that came to an end, we had agreed you were going to be my live-in butler. Which, of course, requires more laying around with me and making jam than anything else, but I can promise the pay will be good.
Amanda’s father is of mostly German descent, and also has a little Swiss-German and English ancestry. Amanda’s mother has German, as well as some Welsh and Scots-Irish (Northern Irish), ancestry.
Halloween: the night of tricks, treats, and playing pretend; three ingredients that had made it something of a favorite in Bree’s book, in the days when it was the only night of the year that anyone would so much as consider turning the other cheek to her mischief; now that she was an ‘adult,’ it was just another of the 364 nights of the year — or 365, on a leap year. And there was no appeal in breaking rules that no one was holding to you to begin with, no allure in charming the pants off of people who were legally allowed to be charmed by you, no absolution in drowning herself in a bottle of whiskey; thought it didn’t mean she wouldn’t still try. Down half a bottle of whiskey, it was clear that the girl meant business — if the fact that she was standing alone on the roof, walking tipsy circles in the twilight, had thrown anyone.
"Hey — put it back," Bree called out to the figure that emerged from the door to the rooftop, gesturing to the stiletto that she’d jammed there to keep it from locking behind her, but shrugging a moment later as she turned away and took another swig from her bottle. "Or don’t. I don’t care. But don’t get any ideas; this bottle is all mine.”
The stars called to her, as they did most nights, in the way that people could never or had never tried. (Even if they did, Alice could not imagine they would be able to imitate it just right, falling short of the one things stars always held over people: their unreachable height. Perhaps it was that that had entranced Alice, who always had the world handed within two feet of her). Duly, the place where one best found stars was the place devoid of people: rooftops and moonlit, lonely parks, and one of these places was closer than the other.
So she took to it.
And imagine her surprise when the door was already jutted open in a fairytale fashion, with a beautiful stiletto keeping the door open. It looked like Cinderella was running away. Alice heard a tinkling, though weighted, voice.
A runaway princess wasn't a far off guess after all.
"Sorry." Was the initial reaction. Sorry was always the feeling when she stepped into limited space with Brianna. She paused, holding the shoe, before hurriedly stuffing it back in place. "I wouldn't - I won't." She corrected herself, shaking her head as she stepped tentatively towards the girl she had once seen so much of herself in (or had so hoped). Keeping the worry from her face (Bree was many things, and a master of detection had always been one of them), she held her hands behind her back and stopped at a fair distance away, just watching. "Did you - drink all that yourself, Bree?"
places, places
get in your places
throw on your dress and put on your doll faces
everyone thinks that we’re perfect
please don’t let them look through the curtains
jimmyeatworldofficial
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
ellievsbear
blakekathryn
