minatozaki sana, cisfemale, she / her —— have you met devon hinazuki ? they are a twenty - two year old junior currently studying astrophysics. they live on keating house, and word around campus is that this gemini is sedulous & erudite, as well as amenable & quixotic. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. the immutable strength of familial love, the double faces of loyalty and servitude and the glint in a magpie’s eye.
𝒉𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔 ! i’m romi, nineteen, she / her, a resident of the gmt plus eight ( press f ) timezone and with me i have miss devon hinazuki ! you will find below what i hope is a substantial but concise synopsis of her character and general ethos. i am so unbelievably stoked to be here and this close to getting to know all of you and your phenomenal characters so please leave me a little ♡ so i know i can reach out to you for plots ! trigger warnings : death, fire
𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑨.
the girl is a curse. that much can be siphoned from the nascent, toddling years that the sole hinazuki heir and her ailing mother sluice through -- her father watches idly by as his wife parts with the incandescence she had so justly been lauded for before the child, dizzied by his own enterprise of science and magic only he could see. a scant year ensuing the burial, devon takes her father’s lifeblood as swiftly and surgically as she had cut through her mother’s radiance -- by her ninth birthday, he is indicted for embezzlement and fraud, both of the inconceivable, federal degree. he had been an instrument in the government’s research. research of the astral kind, and for which he would pay with eternal servitude. in the letter he has delivered to his only progeny, he brands her a witch, an abomination, a parasite.
𝐈𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀.
she is salvaged in the way that most lost things often are : an older, enamoured couple, beguiled by the glint in her eye ( like a magpie’s, the woman had said, cradling fondly to her chest the want of a child she could not have on her own. magpies are abrasive avians. pests. devon thinks about this in the months after the family, when she cannot fall asleep to the metronome of her own breathing. ) she’s given a little brother to dote on, too, not soon after. and because lichen and lightning and other wretched omens have an affair with hiding where you won’t think to look, her curse follows and it festers, compounds on the birthdays she spends with them and -- may sixteenth, 2020. a house fire warps the brownstone into one of hell’s gnarled edifices and the only discernible thing they manage to procure from the soot is her foster brother’s toy engine. devon had been sent to a friend’s house, just earlier that day.
𝑬𝑺𝑻.
summatively, the girl has been heaving a ‘curse’ between the planes of her shoulder blades her entire life, been letting it sit and corrode her own self - perception. her biological mother had, though previously healthy, passed after her birth, and soon after, her father’s illicit scheme to embezzle from governmental research had been uncomprehendingly unveiled. it had seemed to abate after her integration into a foster home, but a fire that transpires takes the lives of all except her. she’s now negotiating with her own agency and her decision to pursue astrophysics, her father’s niche.
𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.
i’ll be working diligently to get a wanted connections page set up soon, but for now, i’d love for her a few of every sort of viable relation : friends, distant family, acquaintances, antagonistic connections such as nemeses and frenemies, even flings, exes, tentative romances, all sorts ! perhaps even someone ( or two ) who’s come into possession of the details from her past, and we can discuss how that carries through and what your muse decides to do with it !
anne carson, stanzas, sexes, seductions / ada limón, the noisiness of sleep / florence + the machine, moderation / emily brontë, wuthering heights / yves olade, when rome falls
“I had learned early to assume something dark and lethal hidden at the heart of anything I loved. When I couldn’t find it, I responded, bewildered and wary, in the only way I knew how: by planting it there myself.”
“Monsters are always hungry, darling, and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t stitched up quite right, the place they could almost slip right into through if the skin wasn’t trying to keep them out”
