IF I LOVED YOU LESS,

you never know if they loved you or their fantasy of you.

[pearlltears]

𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 /  marjorie  montiel  .  political  spy  .  red  eye  .   the chameleon  fantasy  .   kiss   me  , and    you   will    see   how   important   i   am  . 

ABOUT  /  STATS  /  CONNECTIONS  . 

[pearlltears]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑  /  𝐅𝐓.  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 @ghostspot​

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄’𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒,  women and men unable to break the loop of repetition. nothing can rival the irrevocable foolishness of the human heart and mind, and marjorie’s learned enough about deacon farrow to know that it doesn’t take much to sate his desires. the little farrow shadow, the boy who should’ve been loved but never was. the hook is already in his mouth even if he can’t feel it. all she has to do is pull. 

she’s magnetic, innovative, a star in any world that she creates, but to triumph, she must fall at the feet of the youngest farrow. she waits for him in the shadows, seemingly lost in the unforgiving and grey streets of new york where she lays her scene, awaiting for the cue of her indiscernible assailant. he pushes her to the ground, striking her across the face with enough precision to leave a scarlet cut close to her eye, a laceration that will clearly need close inspection. “no, please, i’ll give you anything that you want!” she throws her purse to side as she lifts her hands, concealing her tear-stricken face. “please, don’t,” marjorie whimpers upon catching a glimpse of the pistol held so close to her head, now powerless, defenseless, unable to run. she ought to hide, but what she needs to be is found. 

[mae-martin]

\W/estworld III — Passed Pawn

[pearlltears]

only for you babe @lawlessgodss​

[pearlltears]

𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐎. 

@pearlltears w. michelangelo for marjorie

They liked to send Michelangelo off as a poster boy for what Stoneage could do, and wanted to do for the community. He was well spoken enough to talk about his job but most importantly, he was well behaved and positive to be around, which couldn’t be said for all of the androids. 

Still, they put him in a suit for this formal affair (the purpose of the event being unclear to him), which clung to him in places he wasn’t quite used to with his uniform. Someone at Stoneage also fixed his hair, slicking it back just a little to keep it more in-place. The sticky sensation was rather new to him.

After standing around for some time, and answer the questions he was prompted would come his way, he spotted a familiar face, and began to drift across the room to meet her. “Marjorie.” He smiles softly, hands clasped behind his back. “It is so lovely seeing you here this evening. I was hoping you would make an appearance.”

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐓. it’s a stray hound, an alley cat with large watchful eyes and a stomach ravaged by hunger. fear turns you into prey, it rings inside your ears so that you can never hear the twang of a hunter’s longbow. she was taught not to fear, taught that to fear is to submit, and that to submit is to betray herself, and yet before michaelangelo all logic seems to abandon her. before him, there’s no role to play, a persona to feign, a story to tell. there’s no sense of control. ariadne weeps in a labyrinth of her own creation. 

“michel,” she mutters as she returns the smile, never once losing sight of her target for the evening. “or would you like me to call you angelo?” she wants to let him choose, even when it comes to a trite and trivial deal; she was always robbed of such privilege. it’s his following words that leave her wondering if it’s all just a product of some algorithm, a code, a well-designed program. it must be. there’s no other explanation. “it’s lovely to see you too. i was actually thinking of you on my way here. i brought you something.”

with delicate fingers she pulls a single gardenia out of her crystal clutch, still fragrant, sweet-smelling, and fresh. it must’ve fallen from a tree. someone’s balcony. it must’ve been plucked by the wind from a bouquet held in the hands of a husband that desperately rushed to his wife. she stands still, offering the only thing that she has, the only thing that’s real. “i know it’s not much. only a single flower. forgive me for it. but i simply thought it would look good with your attire.”

[pearlltears]

*     ◟    :    〔  renata notni  ,      cis woman    +   she/her   〕     𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒋𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆  𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒍  ,      some say you’re a 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏  year old  lost soul among the neon lights.      known for being both    alluring  and    manipulative.  ,  one can’t help but think of  i started a joke  by   becky hanson  when you walk by.    are you still a     𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒑𝒚      at     𝒓𝒆𝒅  𝒆𝒚𝒆 ,     even with your reputation as 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ?     i think we’ll be seeing more of you  and   a symphony in an empty ballroom, a damsel becoming the distress, a lingering whiff of expensive perfume    although we can’t help but think of   vesper lynd ( james bond ) , helen of troy ( greek mythology ) , and  kitty collins  ( the killers )  influences    whenever we see you down these rainy streets.    

               helen, helen, come home; there was a helen before there was a war, but who remembers her?  

i. marjorie has no recollections of her past life. some would say that she was a mere street rat no one wished to spare a second glace, others that she was stolen from a once influential political family. perhaps she could’ve been someone great, like a woman who only belongs to herself and gets to keep her heart and mind, but all that remains within the caverns of her head is the rain. the memory of it soaking down to the bone. the red eye organization is all that she’s ever known. it’s a home, a mother, a father.

ii. her training began at a tender age of only four. she, like many other souls trained and brainwashed by the red eye, had claimed her path to glory in pointe shoes. she was dazzling, one of a kind,  in a class by herself, innocent, fragile and vulgar, with the latter being a thing most found intriguing. it was a paradox, a polar opposite, impossible to find all in one girl, but she’s a thousand women in one. the red eye loved her, for just how malleable she was, for how they didn’t have to struggle to keep her in control. she mastered hand-to-hand combat, diplomacy, espionage, and weapons training. she excelled at information extraction.

iii. a muscle strain eventually allowed her to abandon ballet. if you ask her, she’ll never tell you, but loathing ballet was her only act of defiance. having gathered a distressingly alarming number of admirers, especially from the prestigious elite, the red eye saw it fit to give her a new role to play, that of a socialite, which made getting closer to those in power all the easier. marjorie can be anything others ( and the red eye ) want her to be. a lover, a wife, a foe, a mere listener, a victim, the mask never drops, never cracks, it only changes its colour, for marjorie is a chameleon.

iv. still, when you give so much of yourself to others, you don’t get to keep anything. is she real, something truly real, or is she a phantasmagoria? she suffers from great loneliness, but loneliness is never hers, it’s tracked and recorded, and with a chip in her wrist, how can she truly say that she’s alone? she never questions her reality. never tries to break the chain. her every step and move is calculated to perfection, meant to secure her something.

v. marjorie’s greatest talent is her ability to understand others and thus turn herself into the sort of person they need in their life. the seductress, damsel in distress, ice queen, airhead, the art of the lure is hers. despite her rather lack of freedom and the brutality and abuse that she had encountered during her early days, marjorie’s far from naive. just because people think that they can touch her doesn’t mean that they’ll get the chance. she’s as deadly as she’s clever. she’ll pull the trigger without a second thought.

vi. she has the most ardent fondness for pearls. bring her pearls and her heart will be yours. she’s also a romantic at heart, or so she likes to believe because she can’t differentiate between the amalgamation of truth and lies.

vii. plot-wise, i’d like someone that she’s currently tasked with keeping tabs on, someone that doesn’t trust her, a person that sees just how truly lonely she is and tries to rescue her or just tries to hold her close when she sobs and maybe it shall be both of their demise, someone who thinks that they’ve befriended her and maybe they have and maybe they could have something real, someone that could be tricked by her, i’m here for all sorts of plots <33

CHARACTER PARALLELS:  vesper lynd ( james bond ) , helen of troy ( greek mythology ) .  kitty collins  ( the killers ) , satine ( moulin rouge ) ,  gilda  ( gilda )

                                    i can't exist if i'm not wanted  . 

[morgauseloveshersisters]

You’re cold?

[prettynerdieworks]

Ava Gardner & Burt Lancaster in THE KILLERS (1946, dir. Robert Siodmack)

[omgislena-blog]