✧･ﾟ— where: ⌜the transitionary space between the d.o.a.a.'s main lobby and the great halls⌟
✧･ﾟ— when: ⌜shortly after the great ravens have passed around the challenge letters to all grymm⌟
✧･ﾟ— status: ⌜open⌟
Osprey stood with her back to the Great Halls, her body held taut like a bowstring with her arms crossed over her chest. The slender fingers of her right hand rhythmically tapping on the edges of a slightly crumpled manila folder clutched tightly in her grip. Her eyebrows were furrowed in irritation, lips pursed in a pout as her eyes darted to and fro. Her gaze momentarily pausing on one of the hundreds of people milling around the common area before darting to the next.
Her large wings were tucked closely to her back but an occasional involuntary twitch shifted the giant mass of browns like waves, making her feathers stand on end before they settled again. She let out a deep sigh still searching the crowd before here eyes came to a complete stop. She squinted before recognition and a bright smile broke out on her face; the attempt at friendliness immediately clashing with the almost wolfish look in her eyes.
Unfurling her wings slightly, Osprey forcefully created space between herself and the sea of people moving around the Great Halls. A handful of shades shot her dirty looks as they begrudgingly walked around her but she paid them no mind as she stalked forward.
“Oh my gosh, hi!” She said with a high inflection on the final word. “Wow! It’s so funny running into you here!”
The smile from before was pinched tightly as she continued to step closer. Her wings opening wider to create a small alcove in the crowd around herself and the other person. “Anyway, since you are here I figure you either signed up for the challenge or declined the invitation—and that’s wonderful! Great even. Way to go for making a decision!” She said, pumping a celebratory fist up in the air, the motion slightly stiff.
“That’s so cool! But, anyway, I have a slightly weird request. Well, not weird—just, uh, since you got all that,” She waved her hand in the general direction of the D.O.A.A. reception desk, “dealt with, you probably don’t need the letter anymore, right?”
Taking another step she tucked the folder still in her hands under one of her arms before grasping her hands together, the smile growing thin-lipped. “Sooooo, do you think I could maybe have it instead?”
her mind always buzzed with an unending jazz—a perpetual symphony of melodies, scenes, and ideas, all overlapping in a chaotic yet harmonious performance. a script constantly in motion, each act layered with fragments of fiction unfurling in her imagination. so, when news of a certain hunt arrived, one that ever so significant for the magistrate, it felt like the heralding of a pivotal scene in her grand play.
enter "the psyche"—a new archetype in her evolving script, the overture of an unprecedented act.
questions swirled within her. when was the last time she’d felt such a surge of curiosity? such intense involvement? ah, that sudden flood of inspiration—breathe in, breathe out, starling. she'd unravel it all. first, there would be a thorough session dissecting every detail with her bosom friend, gull—a dialogue likely to span what would’ve been hours in the before. she’d need his perspective too, ensuring his insights were woven into her understanding.
oh. she was just standing there, conspiring, wasn’t she? the call of osprey’s voice abruptly pulled her back to the after's reality. her wings gave an almost imperceptible twitch, betraying just how lost in thought she’d been.
"ospy!" she greeted, her voice bright with enthusiasm. as she listened, her smile remained radiant, each nod assertive and engaged. but once osprey finished, it took her a moment—well, longer than a moment—to respond. concern shaded her expression.
"ospy—" this time, the warmth was tinged with worry. "did you... lose your letter, perhaps? you seem a little..." her brown eyes darted left and right before settling on osprey, the concern evident in their depths. "not yourself," she finally chose, a gentle substitute for the harsher "strange" that hovered unspoken. no, she’d never say that to her.
" when 𝗰𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝗱𝘀 get to 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, does anybody hear them when they do ? when 𝗰𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝗱𝘀 get to 𝘧𝘭𝘺, does anybody ever question why ? "
intro task for [ … ] 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 .
basics.
FACECLAIM elçin sangu
CHARACTER NAME starling / mine doğuş
NICKNAME(S) minnuş ( a nickname from before, by family and friends, a very very turkish nickname indeed. ), star ( current nickname, she likes it ! )
GENDER/PRONOUNS cis woman, she/her
SEXUALITY heterosexual
HEIGHT 1.70 ( the mun can't do the american way of this height thingy, sorry )
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES fiery red hair ( she'd been dyeing it for so long, probably couldn't even remember her brunette times from before, good thing she doesn't need to do that in after right, now she may be eternally a redhead ???? ), exaggerated facial expressions, silky singing voice ( like a starling, she is good at mimicking too ! ), big big brown eyes.
APPEARS (THE AGE AT TIME OF DEATH) 39
BIRTHDAY 14th of july
PLACE OF BIRTH istanbul, beyoğlu, türkiye
NATIONALITY turkish
FAMILY INFORMATION only child of a middle income family, both her parents had to watch her ... die on a theatre stage
CAUSE OF DEATH a stage mishap during her last performance ( hint: it wasn't just a simple mishap )
LIKES being on stage ( duh ! ), intricately detailed fashion pieces that would make any normal person look overdressed but not her, musicals, collecting shiny things ( especially jewelry and crystals ), the sight of sea in türkiye especially, old turkish movies that almost always have a happy ending, working hard for the goals she set for herself.
DISLIKES things that require too much analytical thinking, cooking, fast fashion, not meeting the goals she had set for herself, getting reminded of the life she had in the before ( yup, she is deep down not on good terms with how she died, the age of her death, her not fully lived life, and all that jazz. she'd rather not talk about it or fake her emotions about it even. )
HOBBIES the acting - singing - dancing holy trinity ( when u get to turn your hobby into your jobby but life's too cruel and u die young, rip !!! ), script writing.
HABITS forever humming some tune, some stray melody—a song for every moment. her imagination always doing its thing, far too vivid for its own good, reigned supreme, transforming the most ordinary sights into rich scenes, perceiving other shades around her as if they are characters in the play inside her head, an endless theatre of possibilities unfolding in her mind. giving a slight bow before departing a place.
optionals.
EXTRAS click here for pinterest.
CHARACTER TROPES the heart, fiery redhead, child prodigy, unlimited wardrobe, small start; big finish, curtain call
CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS
" sometimes when i’m awake at night, i think about it, the story of you;
sometimes when i’m awake at night, i think about it, the things that we lose;
too soon. "
the song "the soprano & midnight wonderings by bastille" has been a big inspiration for her. like, a very big one. the lyrics at the start of this post also belong to that beautiful song. if i’d known you’d be skimming through this post and was asked which part i’d most want you to not miss, it would be this song. clickety click for the song.
Bravo, 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 and congratulations LAY, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 is pleased to present your wings. May fortune favor you in the hunt for 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚎.
The stage is set and all actors are in their spots as the curtain rises. Act One. A star is born; or perhaps just its ember. But what is a flame if not a spark sustained, its cinders kept alive by the very element that sustains all life? The success of all mankind can be traced to the single first single blazing inferno and what better metaphor than that to describe Mine? The struggle for self-made incandescence, necessitated to cut through the darkness from her Before. Act Two. With the help of a good friend, this little starling burst into the limelight, shining ever so fiercely in the haze. Mine explores a second wind blowing over the coals. And now the Final Act, the Magistrate's casting call: the role of an afterlifetime. While Mine's spirit has brightened since the transition to the After, how long can a light last? Even the cosmos will have its final curtain call...
𝑁𝑂𝑊 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸 𝐹𝐿𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇.
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