Black Opal
A rare, precious, and fiery stone that gets its name from the Sanskrit word upala. Black opals are often called 'the king of opals' and the most valuable variety of this type of stone. A dark yet bright stone that incorporates light energy in the dark void.
The shape is the same as shown. Not one that can be categorized exactly but the bracelet accommodates. The opal reminds Tej of a piece of discarded glass he salvaged years ago in London, and used ever since as his favorite palette for paints.
It was tradition, every six months. Or, at least, it felt like one. A ritual. A ritual before he Ritual. Oxford would run. With his bare feet on the ground, he found it was the only way he'd make it through the day.
He'd do it in the afternoon, the day before the Reaping, every time. His mother would start to get that look in her eyes, and her shoulders would droop in just that way. The way she remembered the last time they had a family dinner all together. Ox couldn't take that kind of responsibility. It wasn't his, but he felt it. When his mother remembered, the others were good to her. Comforted her. His father, and siblings, and extended family were all so good to his mother on the eve of the Reaping, and he could not be. And so he ran.
It wasn't a far escape, from his family home to the burned out barn a plot over. But it put enough distance both physically and emotionally that Oxford could be alone with his thoughts. There was always something to discover; sometimes there were stray cats with litters of kittens, sometimes glass ground into shimmery dust from parties, sometimes discarded toys from other vagabonds who had to ditch at the last moment their trinkets and trophies.
Today's discovery was a new hole in the roof of the structure, with the large wooden pillar that held it up dashed on the floor below. Ox carefully navigated across it, not trusting his weight to it's support. He found an open space and sat with his back against the aging wall, and looked through the new porthole to the darkening sky above. Winter always brought shortened days to the District, increasing the threat of the Games. Acidic bile bubbled in his stomach, his chest, his throat, but he swallowed it down. It only fomented there, though, in the hollow of his body, and threatened to bubble up again at any moment. Somehow, though, the new glimpse of sky helped soothe it. As if the small view out to ultimate freedom helped quell the disgust in his stomach.
He tried to scream, to pound his fist against the ground, to tear at the air with his hands, but he couldn't find the energy to do so. Tears wouldn't even fall, no matter how much he bid them. It was all stone as he tried to express the rage in his heart. So instead he sat still, feeling the dirt under him, feeling the scratchy wood against his back, and watched as the sky gradually darkened more and more. Until he knew it was time to return.
So back to his home he jogged, just as his mother was poking her head out of the door of their house to call him in. He entered, the last one of the family to arrive at the ritual. All were at the dinner table: his father, his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law, his nieces, his sister. No one spoke as he took his seat, still not wearing shoes and clearly dirty from his escape. There remained one other chair, still empty.
Quietly, the family took each other's hands in a circle, with Baley and Buxley placing their hands on the table astride the empty chair. Brinny looked around at her gathered family, and began speaking with tears already in her eyes.
"Let us give thanks, this evening, for the family we have built together." She squeezed her husband's hand, who brought his gaze to meet hers. He, too, was teary eyed. "First, let us celebrate those who have passed the age of danger - Buxley, Leander, Brinny." She smiled at her oldest son, her husband, and then bowed her own head. "Let us give thanks that there are those who have not yet reached the age: Ursula, Gia, and Heather." A small giggle passed through Oxford's nieces, as they were too young yet to quite grasp the depth of the ritual.
"Let's give our good wishes to those of us who will be facing the bowls tomorrow. Oxford," his mother gave his hand a squeeze. "Baley," he passed it to his sister. "And Stella." His brother gave a grim smile to his wife, who would be facing her final Reaping tomorrow.
"And let us not forget those who have lost their lives to the Games." Brinny's voice immediately began to close up. "Stella's uncle, Shulk, who was lost in the 94th Games. And our... our..." Her voice choked out, tears blocking her speech.
Leander jumped in gently, holding her hand firm. "And our Flor, who was lost in the 114th Games. May their memories live on, and may they never be forgotten."
There were murmured "never forgotten"s across and around the table. No one dared look up first. There was a palpable silence that hung like a mantle above their heads, united in the communal grief of their circumstances. It pulled on Oxford's shoulders, forcing them down, hunched over in his seat. Somehow, despite being the tallest at the table, he felt the smallest of all.
But all silences must break, and it was once again the matriarch who took command. Brinny squeezed her husband's hand to release it, and took the inhale that the family was waiting for. "Well," she said simply, her voice still small. "Let's eat, then." She forced her head to raise, looking at each of her children in turn. A sad smile slowly found its way to her lips. They had survived the Games once. It wouldn't - couldn't - happen again. In that, they could take solace.
There were small conversations around the table. Leander asked how the girls were doing in school - well enough. Stella asked how the crops were coming in - slowly, Ox answered. Grain lice and Peacekeeper oversight, especially when the solution was to burn infested crops to protect the clean. A tense moment when Stella mentioned a friend of a cousin in Twelve, unsure of their whereabouts. A worried glance at the required television, which Brinny was certain contained a microphone and camera as much as a screen.
No conversation could effectively pop the bubble, however. No laughter truly arose, outside of the immature giggles of the young girls who didn't yet have the vocabulary to describe the discomfort they were feeling. The meal concluded, everyone washed their own dishes, and gentle but fierce hugs were exchanged. Buxley and Stella took their girls and left, but not without an extra squeeze for Stella from everyone.
The sun was gone, and Oxford found his way to his bed. Across the room, Baley laid, her breaths audible and shaky in contrast to his carefully measured ones. Eventually, he couldn't take the tension.
"It'll be fine." His voice was deep and hollow.
"Will it?"
"It always has been."
"That's not true and you know it."
He quieted at that. She was right. "I miss her too."
"What do we do if -"
"It won't."
"It might."
"It won't." His voice turned stern, defensive.
"But what if -"
"Then." He took a breath in, suddenly aware of how much shakiness he, too, had in his lungs. "Then. Then we."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Oxford rolled onto his side, facing the wall. "It's not going to happen, Baley. And if it does, we do what we've always done."
"But Ox..." he hated hearing the pain in his sister's voice. "If it happens again... there will be no 'we.'"
Oxford fell quiet again. This one lasted longer than the others. "Just go to sleep, Baley." He made a point to pull the blanket up over his shoulder, indicating his end to the conversation. It didn't, however, block out the small, shuddering sobs that Baley couldn't stop as she unsuccessfully tried to get to sleep. Ox noted they lasted all night and into the morning, as he also couldn't fall asleep with the weight of the Reaping upon him.
The morning seeped into their room, early and gray. Both Baley and Ox knew the other hadn't slept, but they held that in confidence as each got ready for the day ahead. Breakfast was light, though no one at the table would be able to eat anything. Grim looks that masqueraded as smiles were exchanged, dishes were washed, and gentle touches were given.
From there, it was tradition - or, perhaps ritual. A short walk as a family minus one to the Capitol square, the final hugs and kisses before Oxford and Baley were pricked and separated to their respective age groups. Ox took his place between the same two who he had grown to know by name and face over the past ten years: Neb Whitman to his left, and Daniela Wicker to his right. Despite how low he kept his head bowed, he still stood nearly a foot taller than the two of them.
There was the video, the silent figures on the stage, and the overmade Escort who simply couldn't be happier to be there, despite being the only person who could claim that. Then there was the collective inhale as the first name was drawn, and the collective half-exhale as the first name wasn't their own.
Only something was different this time. Whereas usually Neb and Daniela would follow his lead and keep their heads downcast, they had today changed the tradition, broken the ritual. Instead, their faces were upturned and staring at Oxford. He made eye contact with Neb, which prompted him to quickly avert his eyes, but when Ox found Daniela's eyes, he knew something was different. He raised his own head, only to hear over the microphone:
"Is there an Oxford Wichita?"
A haze fell across his eyes and his vision went blurry. For an embarrassing moment, Ox thought he would faint. His focus snapped back, however, when the Escort, clearly annoyed, cleared his throat again into the microphone, and Daniela shifted to allow him access to the aisle with an apology in her eyes that he could feel. Slowly, Ox made his way up to the stage, feeling like it had become an endless walk. Being at the back of the crowd only meant he had to walk past each and every row of 22 year olds, then onward until he briefly caught the crying eyes of Baley. His jaw tightened and he ascended the stairs.
"Ah, there we go. A round of applause for Oxford. And now, let's see who our second Tribute will be."
There was a second collective inhale, and then a name was read. Ox couldn't stop the muscle memory of the collective exhale as he heard a name he didn't recognize. It wasn't Baley. It wasn't Stella. It wasn't him.
His breath caught in his chest. It was him. The ritual would continue.
O governo de Kathoris declara que as informações abaixo sobre Zeki Ulusoy são de caráter sigiloso. O exército não se responsabiliza por esta divulgação extraoficial para as perguntas sobre do que as pessoas são feitas. Fidelidade aos Angelis e ao General.
Qual a origem da maior cicatriz que seu personagem possui?
Adquirida à serviço do exército, a cicatriz que Ulusoy possui no lado direito do quadril foi recebida quando em uma briga dos grandes criminosos do círculo 2 acabou saindo do controle. Os militares precisaram intervir, o serviço foi chamado para auxiliar os feridos, Zeki liderava um grupo pequeno com mais dois outros médicos. A situação que parecia estar sob controle, rapidamente perdeu as rédeas. Criminosos com garrafas quebradas começaram a, novamente, criar caos no ambiente; Doc e seus médicos foram feitos de reféns e um dos bandidos feriu-lhe no quadril. O homem foi executado, mas o estrago estava feito. Por sorte, nenhum orgão foi perfurado, mas a cicatriz que ficou para traz carrega as lembranças dos momentos aflitos que viveu naquele dia.
Qual a lembrança mais feliz que elu tem?
O momento em que recebeu o diploma de medicina e sua admissão para o Serviço foi concluída. Lembra-se como se fosse hoje, como se estivesse prestes a terminar de vestir o novo uniforme com a patente que agora podia carregar com segurança e confiança.
Quais três palavras nas quais seu personagem se descreveria e porque?
Persistência, pois não importa o quanto sua família tenha desprezado sua escolha de serviço, Zeki não titubeou um segundo sequer. Teimosia, quando decide que quer algo, vai até o fim. Muitos adequam isso a uma característica ruim, mas Doc prefere ver isso como uma qualidade. Gentileza, por mais que tenha enfrentado por diversas vezes a indiferença da família, por mais que tenha crescido sem tanto afeto ou atenção sendo demonstrado para si, tornou-se uma pessoa gentil, que preza os atos amenos para com as outras pessoas.
Qual a melhor maneira de animá-lo?
Com bebida, claro.
O que seu personagem mais valoriza atualmente em sua vida.
Seu trabalho. Zeki se esforçou para conseguir tornar-se um dos Soldados de Ouro, assim como se esforçou para edificar sua carreira na medicina de maneira exemplar; é então algo que valoriza acima de.. quase tudo.
LYSANDER CAERWYN as JARETH THE GOBLIN KING (Labyrinth)
Immortal rulers of a fantastical realm, Lysander and Jareth share much in common with one another. They are seductive figures of authority and magic, well known for their rather spoiled ways, their vanity, and their striking appearances. Though Jareth is more mercurial than Lys, and more prone to outbursts of irritation with his subjects, Lys has the same potential to be extremely dangerous and vindictive if pushed far enough. His ongoing feud with Gabriel Beaumont shows the more antagonistic side of his personality, one where he is willing to push buttons and challenge those who oppose him as Jareth challenges Sarah. Both the Goblin King and the High Lord of Dawn are given over to lavish parties and schemes, often choosing to manipulate situations with underhanded tricks and subtlety rather than outright conflict. There’s also no denying the parallels of Jareth absconding with people (namely Sarah’s brother Toby), and the Dawn Court’s penchant for stealing away humans they find interesting or useful. Nor both men’s unique magical talents for manifesting and manipulating the dreams of others.
“It's a crystal. Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams.”
... as HERBERT VON KROLOCK (Tanz der Vampire)
These immortals share an overarching characterization that can only be described as “fabulous”. Herbert is the flamboyant gay son of a vampire, a playful and fun figure who is very forthright in his desires and who pursues his passions openly. He is extremely confident in himself and completely unapologetic, as Lysander is, and both are bold and persistent when it comes to getting what they want. Herbert is taken with an adorable young vampire hunter and pursues him openly despite the era’s cultural mores against his sexuality; Lys is promiscuous and does not hide his nature despite the disapproval of surrounding Courts. They are not overly given to displays of anger or violence, though of course both can have their moments, and for the most part are more focused on enjoying themselves in the moment and enjoying all that their eternal lives can offer them. Oh, and they’re both extremely pretty, and they know it.
“You're trembling with fear, mon chéri.”
“I never tremble!”
“Oh yes, you are scared, my friend!
“They say there's a ball somewhere.”
“You have a nice butt!”
When the darkness took over, it changed her. It was like a battle in her own head for ultimate control. The good vs. the bad. Now, even without her magic that battle still seems to do going on. She’s losing sight of herself.
: // THE BASICS.
Full given name: Cienna Bur’rin
The name they go by: Cienna
Age: 27
Gender identity: female
Sexual Orientation: unknown
Marital Status: unmarried
Planet of birth: batuu
Allegiance: the resistance
: // PHYSICALS.
Height: 5′6″
Weight: 135lb
Eye color: brown
Hair color &. texture: brown, thick
Build: slim but muscular
: // RELATIONSHIPS.
Number of siblings: 2
Order of birth: youngest
Father’s status and their relationship: deceased
Mother’s status and their relationship: deceased
Siblings’ status and their relationship: unknown
: // PERSONALITY.
Hobbies: fixing droids, slicing, taking things apart and putting them back together
Habits: bites thumb when nervous, interrupts often in conversation
Positive personality traits: loyal, hardworking
Negative personality traits: stubborn, argumentative
Immediate impression they think they give off to others: angry, dislikes everyone
Immediate impression they actually give off to others: outspoken, grumpy, know it all
Skills: mechanical skills, engineering, slicing
Morning and/or nightly routines: wakes up early and goes to bed late, only eats on the go.
: // ALLEGIANCE.
Allegiance: resistance
Position within their allegiance: mechanic/engineer
Views of the cause they fight for: thinks the first order is nothing but poison in the galaxy.
Views of the First Order - Resistance War: will fight to the end of the galaxy to take out the first order
Cause for fighting: the first order destroyed her home when she was a teenager and was rescued by the first order
Age at which they joined: 16
: // TRADEMARKS.
Theme song:
Strengths: mechanical skills, great memory, clever, problem solver
Weaknesses: stubborn, angry, argumentative
Something in their possession that holds importance to them: kyber crystal given to her by a traveler when she was a child.
