WHEN THE CURTAIN DROPS…
So many unnecessary sorrows you’ve gone through, firecracker, so many indeed! You are unaware of when the sunlight first scratched the clouds above you, being the morning as cold and as gray, it was more akin to an icy brume by a rocky foreshore than it was to the place you were ought to call home. At times it still happens, you still find yourself thinking of dialing that same old number still scribbled up in red on some shriveled piece of paper, but it takes two heartbeats for you to understand there will be no voice at the other end of the line, and just those two beats remind you it’s just one you hear -- the other is nothing but echo. It’s not too safe to sit like that on the kitchen counter yet there you are, with your legs thrown leisurely over the sink, feet dangling out with your ballet shoes still on. These things are rarer than they’re funny, and you still cannot get the joke; some people cause harm with their presence, some others with their ends. In comes the oddest, most peculiar type of evils, the one whose existences revolve entirely around behaving maliciously and spreading chaos. Such is the power of them and the damage they cause that they still reverberate inside the walls of your home and the corners of your mind as though they never truly left.
…YOU SHOW YOUR TRUE COLOURS
The only way to love a devil is to have a piece of you in them, to share something as sacred and as dangerous as blood is. Twins are creatures linked to magic, you’ve heard, and that you believe. So many wrongdoings you took part in just to follow them, so many times you saw stolen toys and broken vases and took the blame yourself; because nobody would expect anything else from you -- because that’s what sweet Rhiannon does. Your martyr complex hasn’t taken you anywhere, no, it hasn’t, if anything it made your survival look more suspicious. It’s inconceivable to even think so, to suggest you would escape an accident of that magnitude and make no efforts to save your reflection, your shadow. Perhaps they were nothing but a gloomy cloud keeping you from growing even if keeping you safe, you will never know. If you two were linked by something magical it had to be a devilish spell, a tar that stained you both with an undertone of jealousy and greed. A well-known turmoil and their softer counterpart, with the stark contrast of day and night. Keep on lying to yourself and call yourself a saint; you would be stepping staggering low, for you were nothing and you will never be nothing but the lesser of two evils.
VICTIM OR CULPRIT?
As one of the Queen Victoria’s newest countenances, Rhiannon Connors has begun to make a name for herself. At age twenty-two you stand tall with your chin up, no identical figure to overshadow you as a wicked self, starring as Princess Florine. Visibly selfless and cuttingly candor, you hold some likeness to Zoë Kravitz, and to her alone -- thankfully. You’re a vision of unattainable talent, throbbing under the blinding lights of the opera, carrying someone’s ghost as your ball and chain.
IN RELATION TO
DESDEMONA JAMES: Trust is not something you find to be easily given, but every rule has its exception. Desdemona, who you have come to learn loathes the use of her full name, was the perfect roommate from the very first day; now she’s more of a family member, a cornerstone, than many of your own relatives have been. Many, not all, obviously. It’s some serious empathy, that of hers, for a girl who clearly feels so little. She once suggested you were not at all that different, yet you’re hoping with all your strengths for that not to be true.
WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW
Chances of Survival: Above average Applicant must be open to portraying loss of a sibling, ptsd Faceclaim is non-negotiable
Taking auditions!
