𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 / 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒
name : trixie knight / nicknames : trix / age : 24 / pronouns : they + them / sexuality : bisexual biromantic / birthday : july 25th / stature : five feet seven inches / zodiac sign : leo / occupation : burlesque dancer / residency : rock rose park / pet ( s ) : black maine coon named screecher / deity : eris / status : damiona of of gleeful strife, discord, contention and rivalry / ability : enhanced vision and hearing at night, lucid dreaming
please be mindful that the following triggers will be in this blurb : death, car crashes, hospitals, anxiety, ptsd, homophobia, slurs, underaged ( sneaking into clubs / dancing ). please proceed with caution.
001. childhood.
you were so young when it happened. a crash that you can barely remember, only a scar on your forearm to remind you of it. if you think hard enough, you feel like you can hear your mother’s screams, but you visually only remember bright lights. the ones from the other car, the ones from the medical team that flashed them in your eyes to check for a concussion, the ones from the hospital. you were ten when you woke up alone without the comfort of your parents, sent to be in the care of grandparents you’d never seen nor heard of before. even as a child you felt like something was innately wrong.
harsh whispers from your grandfather and leers that you couldn’t understand, the gossip from your grandmother late at night when she thought you were asleep. talks of making sure you hadn’t been ruined —— you’d thought they’d meant from the crash. physically, nothing could be found wrong with you, but you refused to speak. picked up sign language, something your grandparents refused to learn, and went through the world in a daze. nothing made sense to you anymore. not the voices of your mother and her partner still encouraging you, not the snatches of dreams that always seemed to come true. your grandparents wanted you to go to counseling —— you just sat there. severe ptsd, mutism is what you were diagnosed with. for six years you never spoke to the grandparents that claimed to love you, claimed to love your mother. you know they never did. at any chance they thought they were alone they ridiculed your mother and her partner, harsh words of queer and gay that you’d never heard said so violently. they hated the very person that your mother was, and each chance, you went out of your way to be just like her.
you dressed like her, adopted the mannerisms that you could remember. any time your grandmother sneered at things your mother had done as a child, you adopted it and made it your own. at the age of sixteen with seemingly little to no speech, your grandparents were fed up. they shipped you off to a boarding school where you would no longer be their problem and they would no longer have their deceased daughter haunting their walls. imagine their surprise when for the first time since childhood, you opened your mouth to tell them thank you.
002. teenaged years.
you’re not sure when it began —— your desire to push both people and situations to their last ends. perhaps you never truly had a sense of fear ; seeing death so young and no longer fearing it. perhaps you just like the reaction that people have when they finally realize that there is no winning the game with you because the game was rigged in your favor to begin with. even when you seemingly lose, you still win. the years spent in the background made your crafty, observant —— able to spot the flaws in people that seemed miniscule, even as you made sure yours were never known. you never wanted anything to do with your grandparents again —— not their money, not their time, their efforts. you got a job at the boarding school to help pay for it, and upon graduating at age eighteen and leaving you learned what many already understood ; when you had power and wealth, you never needed anything. you got in a crowd that seemed to adopt you, treat you as a little sibling. they taught you everything. how to lie, manipulate. you lied about your age to get into the club they worked out, lied to become a dancer there. you ignored the flashing lights that could send you into a panic attack without warning, forced yourself to become hardened and clip off what you deemed as weaknesses about yourself. in the end, it would be years before you left the club, and years since you’d been able to look into a mirror and recognize yourself.
003. present + tldr
trixie has been on magnetic island for two years now, and unless someone is brand spanking new, most people have heard about them, but all for the wrong reasons. they’ve either duped you out of money, danced for you at club bacchae, broken your heart, or have pissed you off to the point of wanting to fight them. trixie thrives in chaos and likes to leave a trail of it anywhere they go. if it seems like trixie is relaxing or quiet, that’s a good indication that something bad is about to happen. they’re charming but just as venomous as a snake. they’re that rose full of thorns, the seemingly innocent face that will leave you reeling and then laugh and brag about it. despite it, trixie is very social but they’re that one person you should keep close just to be able to watch closely.
