A little post I wrote for a thread with my character Cordelia (Pamela face) to my friend's character Sylvia (Miranda Otto face - judge all you want). They were childhood friends who 'practiced kissing' in Religious Trauma, Appalachia and, per the lore of the site, Cordelia 'died' when they were 20 (a fake obituary was written because she'd been bodied by the town's Dark Secret and sent to Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum when she lost her shit with clairaudience) AND Sylvia left town. Also per lore, said Town is so fucked by its Dark Secret that modern tech doesn't work even in 2026, so Cordelia couldn't even contact her. Sylvia's mother also refused to give her her new home address and Cordelia was too autistic to keep asking because RSD probably lol.
Now they have reunited, 40 years later, and here is Cordelia's comphet meltdown to Sylvia saying she married a woman. Idk it just felt nice to explore this VERY FAMILIAR feeling for late-in-life lesbians.
She freezes.
I married a woman.
Two things happen in this moment to Cordelia Taylor.
The first thing is that her face turns a bright pink, colors her naturally pale complexion (that always compliments her black hair so nicely, her mother used to say) – makes it blatantly obvious that she’s flustered. All absentminded fidgeting she’s known for has stopped.
The second thing that happens is the roiling burn of jealousy that stokes her insides. The kind of jealousy that the Bible warned about. The kind that makes her feel sick because she wants to find this strange, thieving woman and wrap her fingers around her throat for touching what has always been hers.
But why, Cordelia?
You can’t lay claim to Sylvia.
You can’t do that anyway. That’s sinful. It’s an aberration. The old priest had said so, had called her a…
– but that hadn’t been a real person. That had been the hellmouth’s manifestation of her fears, hadn’t it? She’d never told a soul the stuff she did with Sylvia, not even at confessional. Not the laced fingers, the shared kisses, the way they would slip their arms around each other's waists and –
The Bible said loud and clear –
Cordelia grips the front of her blouse, her knuckles turn pale before she forces her hand to relax, for her fingertips to find her collarbone. She discreetly drums against it because her insides are white hot with a special kind of rage. It’s not even Sylvia’s fault, she’s thought Cordelia dead until today. Of course it would make sense she would move on with her life. Find someone else. Forget about her.
But… another woman?
Not a man: useless, no true bond to be formed there, no deep, existential understanding.
A woman: able to form connections to one another so profound that their ancestors were burned alive for it.
Men could never claim the kind of love Cordelia has always felt for Sylvia… but could her former spouse? Her ex-wife? The thought makes her nauseous.
She tries so hard to be normal with what she then asks, but her voice shakes, betraying her.
guys @spoocys-glade-of-dreams has taught me the art of roleplay anybody wanna do it with me
i can roleplay as any rayman character (unless its polokus because i need to be 1,5600 steps away from bro) or any of my ocs (yes, this WILL include gloria mundi)
