𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖆𝖙𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖆𝖘𝖙 2

[szpaece]

the basics –––

NAME: Szae

GENDER: Cis Female

ALIGNMENT: Useless Leggings Lesbian

MARITAL STATUS: Alone, for probably good reasons.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In a break up/make up cycle with several exes.

physical appearance –––

HAIR: Changes at least daily.

EYES: Glowy.

HEIGHT: 7'2″

BUILD: A few extra curves from spending long hours in study and eating whatever is available in the wee hours of the morning before promptly falling asleep on the sofa.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Whipping lashes of void energy slither all over her skin. Also she’s very often intangible and smokey.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A wickedly-shaped blade that likes to talk to her. (No, not Xallie.) Lots of purple.

personal –––

PROFESSION:  Physicist, academic, but go-go dances at various clubs to keep food on the (coffee) table.

HOBBIES: Contemplating the pointlessness of existence, feeling alternatively super lonely and then overwhelmed by disgust at the state of humanity, feeding stray cats and entrusting all of her secrets to them.

LANGUAGES: Common, Draenei, Eredun

RESIDENCE: A shitty flat in Dampwick.

BIRTHPLACE: Space

RELIGION: Quitting

PATRON DEITY: The whispers of the Void that confirm all those things she already knew.

FEARS: Caring genuinely about anything that isn’t a cat, being alone without even the whispers of the void, but also not being alone is pretty scary too.

relationships –––

SPOUSE: Not the marrying kind.

Children: Five furbabies.

PARENTS: Nevaea (mother, deceased), Riszk (father, presumed deceased)

SIBLINGS: None.

OTHER RELATIVES: If they’re out there, Szae has no idea.

ACQUAINTANCES/FRIENDS: Julie Auklight (roommate, ex)

PETS: Five cats and a menagerie of void manifestations.

traits –––

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

additional information –––

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

possible hooks –––

Holier Than Thou : Szae doesn’t even try to hide her affinity with the void. She often assumes her shadow form for the convenience of weightlessly wisping from place-to-place, so anyone with a strong distaste for shadow stuff is free to call her on it.

Nun Ya Bizniss : Are you a priest? So is Szae. You probably know her as that one girl no one wants to invite to the ritual circles because she’s such a killjoy, but she’s got all the new edition books so you kind of have to.

In Da Club: Szae earns exactly zero gold a year from being an edgelord contrarian, so most of her funds come from donning slutmog and hyping up bored socialites. She’s available for cross faction parties too, because we are all equally nothing in the eye of the void.

Mothership: Szae was born during a harrowing escape from a planet the Draenei had planned to colonize, so her origins and her heart forever reside in the stars. Maybe your character was one of the priestesses who helped to raise her after the death of her mother, or maybe you just remember a teeny little gothling getting in the way of everything.

Around Town : Szae has a lot of nights where she gets too drunk and loses her way in the chaos of Kul Tiras. Give her a ride home & she’ll be forever grateful.

what I’m looking for –––

I love the idea of building a girl squad for Szae, of finding an adopted family for her, or anything in that vein. I love romance, but Szae is not a great girlfriend and you need to know that going in. I’m also down to just party; Szae’s job is literally making parties fun, so hit me up if you need that for your event. I WOULD LOVE A DISCORD RP because I work long long long hours with nothing to do between shifts and no access to WoW most of the day.

oocly, I am –––

Super flexible and easy-going. When I had more free time, I was the Welcome Crew on my server and tried to make everyone’s day a little more badass. Sadly, I don’t have that kind of time now, so it’s really hard to get into the groove of things again. :(

contact me –––

Discord: kallipsi

[depsidase]

[vamps1n]

[vv-itchy]

[chaosophia218]

Athanasius Kircher - Amulet of Venus and Mars, “Oedipus Aegyptiacus”, 1652.

[purplevibesss]

[witchboxco]

[jussanother]

[purplevibesss]

[fashiontimeless]

Emanuel Ungaro, 2000

[phorusrhacidae-lesbian]

sometimes lesbian homewrecking is the only ethical option

[tenephre]

[inatafortuna]

purple. 💜

[purplevibesss]

[purplevibesss]

[szpaece]

day three ( blur )

February DWC 2026

day 3: blur

cw: alcoholism, substance abuse, depression, (unserious) suicidal ideation, hazy descriptions of sexual acts, dubious consent under the influence -- you get the idea the prompt is blur.

@daily-writing-challenge

where has the night gone? it feels as if it's only been a second. an eyeblink.

surely they've only just arrived, these strangers that szae has rounded up like cattle and herded into this posh club. she can still see the look on the host's face when she'd marched in with a train of beautiful women in tow. he'd slipped her enough coin to catch the first ship off this dreadful island, and she'd tucked it into her corset, promising she'd save it for just that. that she'd only share one drink with these people. she'd brought them here, after all. it would only be decent to stand with them in a row, shot glasses in hand, to toast to a young night and tip back her drink and

now her hair hangs limp from its pinnings. her corset has meandered down her sweat-slick chest. the coins are long gone, she definitely drank them all. but that's just fine. they've bought her passage into the arms of an Angel.

a real one. she has wings. she has soft, dark hair. she does not know where to step or how to swing her hips. szae commands with her hands, placing them on her waist, holding them in the air. she tells the Angel to look at her. she finds that it is always golden hour in her Angel's eyes.

it is not difficult to teach a stranger how to hold you, but szae has always found it difficult to want to be held. (she would rather stream, like smoke, she would rather drift through the fingers of a grasping hand.) she likes the way her Angel holds her. she rocks szae in a way that she hopes will never end.

it ends in an instant. the world outside is searing, merciless, unkindly bright. szae is the caterpillar who has left her cocoon too soon. she tips back her drink and

her angel is even prettier outside her dress. divinity unconstrained. a sacrament of flesh, the liberation of something pure. she would feel guilty for her transgressions against this body, for her unwavering impulse to defile everything beautiful, if she were not so drunk. but anyway, she tips back her drink and

bodies rain down beside her as if they've been brought in with a raging tempest. they swell at her feet like rainwater. she gets the impression that she will drown in skin. her eyes widen in the humidity, the baking heat against her. she really prefers to be smoke.

she blinks and they're in a fancy hotel bed, big marionettes with their strings snipped and their joints dangling. they fold over her pillows and curl off the mattress.

szae wonders in a panic what planet she is on.

who is hunting them.

how many still remain?

is this how her parents looked, powered down and balled like little bugs? their dead faces used to haunt her dreams, but this isn't so bad. they almost look like they're still alive, suspended in dreaming repose.

of course they are alive. she clutches a hand to her chest, her heart pounding like a caged animal fighting for freedom. they look terrible, their eyes are sunken, their skin pallid and gray, but one moans when she moves too abruptly off her bed. she barely recognizes some of them, and one not at all. they're all practically strangers.

she waits, and the tide surely comes in again. the darkness whispers to her in the voices of everyone she has disappointed before. it relishes in the sense of impending disapproval from the people that she is disappointing now. her mind is a marquee, spinning, spinning, spinning, ticking off one transgression after another. she crawls to the washing room, dragging herself groaning over the stained tile floor, and leans her head into the bathtub and waits for the world to stop spinning or for this misery to fucking kill her already.

instead, it goes brilliant. her Angel fills her mind, chases away the shadows. her kindness comes to mind, how jealous she is for it now. how good it would be to have a sweet voice in her ear to forgive her tonight. to curl up in arms that know how to hold her and cry this pain away, cry away the impulse to hurt herself again. her Angel would know how to keep her from falling apart.

or she'd take one look at the state of szae and this well-defiled hotel room and take a sensible hike straight out the door. szae rifles through the grimey mélange beside her: someone else's bra, pants that she wore or borrowed someone missing their own for some reason, little vials that bring back sensations that make her mouth itch. beneath it all is just what she knows she's stashed away. she always leaves a little for herself, just in case. she knows this cycle of pain too well.

her fingers close around a bottle. she tips back her drink, and

[purplevibesss]