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La période jouable actuelle va du 30 septembre 2022 au 30 novembre 2022 
Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE- Personnage◊ :
Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Ven 16 Avr 2021 - 18:18
 |  | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
Let’s celebrate, she’d said, glimmer in her eyes and gold in her hair. Let’s celebrate. But Chiara was silent the whole way home. She’d forced a smile, lingering her fingers on the sheet of paper with her name on it next to the role she would play. She was an excellent actress – much better than anybody else here, she had to be grateful that nobody saw her break inside. She’d worked her ass off. Long, sleepless nights, frustrated hot tears, trembling fingers keeping the page so she wouldn’t lose her place. Reading that damn book had probably been the most challenging thing she’d ever done for her craft – it was a real long fucking book. She’d bought the accessible version, with bigger fonts and space between the words, making the volume extra discouraging. But Chiara had never been discouraged of anything before – she’d given it her all. She powered through, she always did, no matter the consequences.
The actress remembered fondly the afternoons on the couch with Sol, the tea spilled on the floor from inattentive and careless laughter preparing the auditions and getting into character. Chiara had immediately fallen in love with Ariane. She was born to play that role. The loneliness, the daydreaming, longing for other lives, other lands… The poorly mended heart and uncertainty. The vulnerability. She thought she’d nailed the audition. She came home bubbling with stars in her eyes, so sure that she would get the part. There was nobody else who could have possibly done better than she did. Except Sol.
Of course, it would be Sol. Chiara felt ridiculous not to have seen this coming. After all, how are you supposed to compete with the Sun?
Chiara would play Solal, with a delightful sense of irony. It felt convoluted, expected. She didn’t dare ask, but there was a part of her that resented being given the foreigner’s role, as if her skin only allowed her to play characters of colour. She didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent until they reached their apartment and she laid down her bag on the floor. They would start rehearsals after the weekend. Before they left, the stage manager had told them with an enthusiastic smile “It’s perfect that you two live together, you can run lines and practice stage directions and work on the chemistry!” Again, Chiara had forced a laugh. She had tried for a very long time to bury the part of her than still burned at the touch of her djinn, that shivered when she laughed, that curled into a ball when she stepped out of the flat to meet with other people. The thought that she would be expected to hold her, to kiss her even, and have it mean nothing… It was almost unbearable. And the words got lost in her throat now, as they had gotten lost a few years ago, just before Solal’s lips interlocked with Milo’s and all hope was lost.
Absent-mindedly, Chiara made her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge to get some water. Her eyes met the bottle of bubbly they’d bought a few days ago in preparation of this very day. Somehow it felt wrong to open it now. But Sol wouldn’t understand – she could understand a lot of things, on many aspects she knew Chiara much better than she knew herself. But that was the actress’ best kept secret. She had been willing to let her in on it, for a while. When she thought the risk was worth it – when she thought maybe they’d be more than that, but the tide had turned, that ship had sailed. Chiara was alone on the dock. “Should we order in? I don’t feel like going out” she said, eyes still fixated on the fridge’s contents. They were usually pretty outgoing, and Washington was full enough of opportunities that they never grew bored, especially since Chiara had a talent for reinventing herself every night. But she was tired. Too tired to slip into someone else’s skin, and yet remaining in her own felt too painful. The numbness took over her, and her voice fell flat. “I wonder if they still have that garlic bread we like from the place across the street.” And finally, she turned, bottle of water in hand, and the glass clinked on the counter. She didn’t dare meet Solal’s eyes just yet. How come that every time Sol shone so bright, her own light dimmed in equal measure?
The actress remembered fondly the afternoons on the couch with Sol, the tea spilled on the floor from inattentive and careless laughter preparing the auditions and getting into character. Chiara had immediately fallen in love with Ariane. She was born to play that role. The loneliness, the daydreaming, longing for other lives, other lands… The poorly mended heart and uncertainty. The vulnerability. She thought she’d nailed the audition. She came home bubbling with stars in her eyes, so sure that she would get the part. There was nobody else who could have possibly done better than she did. Except Sol.
Of course, it would be Sol. Chiara felt ridiculous not to have seen this coming. After all, how are you supposed to compete with the Sun?
Chiara would play Solal, with a delightful sense of irony. It felt convoluted, expected. She didn’t dare ask, but there was a part of her that resented being given the foreigner’s role, as if her skin only allowed her to play characters of colour. She didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent until they reached their apartment and she laid down her bag on the floor. They would start rehearsals after the weekend. Before they left, the stage manager had told them with an enthusiastic smile “It’s perfect that you two live together, you can run lines and practice stage directions and work on the chemistry!” Again, Chiara had forced a laugh. She had tried for a very long time to bury the part of her than still burned at the touch of her djinn, that shivered when she laughed, that curled into a ball when she stepped out of the flat to meet with other people. The thought that she would be expected to hold her, to kiss her even, and have it mean nothing… It was almost unbearable. And the words got lost in her throat now, as they had gotten lost a few years ago, just before Solal’s lips interlocked with Milo’s and all hope was lost.
Absent-mindedly, Chiara made her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge to get some water. Her eyes met the bottle of bubbly they’d bought a few days ago in preparation of this very day. Somehow it felt wrong to open it now. But Sol wouldn’t understand – she could understand a lot of things, on many aspects she knew Chiara much better than she knew herself. But that was the actress’ best kept secret. She had been willing to let her in on it, for a while. When she thought the risk was worth it – when she thought maybe they’d be more than that, but the tide had turned, that ship had sailed. Chiara was alone on the dock. “Should we order in? I don’t feel like going out” she said, eyes still fixated on the fridge’s contents. They were usually pretty outgoing, and Washington was full enough of opportunities that they never grew bored, especially since Chiara had a talent for reinventing herself every night. But she was tired. Too tired to slip into someone else’s skin, and yet remaining in her own felt too painful. The numbness took over her, and her voice fell flat. “I wonder if they still have that garlic bread we like from the place across the street.” And finally, she turned, bottle of water in hand, and the glass clinked on the counter. She didn’t dare meet Solal’s eyes just yet. How come that every time Sol shone so bright, her own light dimmed in equal measure?
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
- Sol DelacroixMEMBRE ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :
❂ ❂ ❂
Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.
❂ ❂ ❂
D e l a c r o i x
Pseudo / Pronoms : Valhdia / elleMessages : 473Âge : 229 ANS (21/06/1792) ☀ une vingtaine sur la faceNombre de dés : 2Résidence : WASHINGTON ☀ colocation avec son humaine et amie ChiaraProfession : COMEDIENNE avec son humaine ☀ LECTRICE bénévole dans les établissements pénitenciersFaceclaim : Blake LivelyCrédits : poets-dpt (ava), self (aes), underratedboogeyman (aes delacroix). (aes).Multicomptes : Caliban & Orpheus & Hecate & Nova-Blue & Llyr & BoréePoints : 1241Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Ven 16 Avr 2021 - 20:23
Barefoot in the wildest winter.
Sol x Chiara
Love. That what it was all about. Love. Everytime. Every writer, every singer, every tiny piece of living creature was just craving for love. Love, a simple word yet so complex, no longer meaning anything from having been used way too much. A word that could tear down mountains, make you sail right beyond the seas, fly higher, run faster, live stronger.
Sol loved Chiara. She did. She began to love her in an instant, when her beautiful, colorful face took the blond one from the insidious darkness and despair that reigned in the purgatory. Sol loved Chiara because she was a child, a beautiful one, a broken one, with so many treasures in her heart that no one did care to look for. Hidden in plain sight, the beauty of her sole being that no one tried to even search. Well, Solal searched. Solal looked for the treasures, and there were loads of them. She loved Chiara as she grew up, becoming this sublime woman that still lived with her every day. And she was lucky, so very lucky, that her Chiara had heard her voice, that she awoke her from the void; Chiara gave her a chance to live, to rise up from those old shadows, and Sol loved her so very much.
Yet it had never been enough.
She never liked acting. She was not fond of it, she was not good at it, she did not like being on stage and feeling all those eyes on her. She was too shy, and quite frankly too passionate, to get the curve of her face in another character and play what the other would feel. Sol Delacroix could not be anyone else than Sol Delacroix. Not a single moment did she think that some day she would have to be. But she learned, for Chiara, for her human; because her human was brilliant. A beautiful little flower, emerging from the creaky boards that the vast stage was made of. A magnificent sunflower, awaking under the spotlights, that she would have looked at from the backstage if Chiara did not ask her to come. She would not have left her for any reason.
Chiara was ready. She had read the book, this huge, massive and indigest book, filled with so many insane words, dazzling and dizzying nights. Sol did read it with her, on those cloudy nights in the flat when they did not want to go out. She read it out loud -after all, she was supposed to be good at it- to Chiara, Chiara read some parts for herself, and both of them knew in their hearts that Chiara was to get that role. Ariane Deume, the foolish, the beautiful, the passionate Belle du Seigneur.
The manager thought things another way. Sol, who did not expect a leading role, ended up playing Ariane Deume, when her dear and pretty Chiara came up with this manipulative and narcissistic Solal des Solal. Oh, the irony. At this moment, Sol did not open her mouth to protest, to say Chiara was way better. Better at acting, better at loving, probably, since the djinn could not even get that right. She had not even been able to resign to let Chiara shine. Too shocked.
Now the keys were just clattering, as her amazing roommate opened the door to their apartment. And Solal was just not enough. The role was not enough. The djinn was not enough. She was not enough, not enough to make Chiara believe in herself, not enough to get Chiara what she deserved. She was such a poor djinn, and she should have resigned.
Chiara was silent. Desperately silent, and Sol had never had less words that could explain what she was feeling. Shame? Guilt? Sadness? None of that was enough, Chiara was clearly not okay, yet there was nothing she could do to make her sweet human and friend get any little bit better. The blond djinn got kind of relieved when her precious friend finally decided to open her mouth, staring blankly inside the fridge as if she’d hope to find answers in it.
“Yes !” she said, way too quickly to be untrue.
She approached the kitchen, her elbows meeting the counter as her face just fell back on her chest. Chiara was acting, once again. Acting as if she did not care. And she was, actually, quite good at it. But how could Sol be fooled? She knew her, she knew her and she loved her so much. How could she believe for an instant that Chiara was ok, when she had watched her work for months trying to get that role?
“We can try, I think I still have their number written down somewhere … ”
As she began to look for it, Chiara let her glass of water just clink onto the counter, with a dull sound hiding her face from the sad looks of her roommate.
No. She could not just let her and say nothing. Sol moved around the counter and put an arm over Chiara’s shoulders. With delicacy. Intimacy. With all the kindness that she could, just to show a bit of her love. Because she loved her way too much, and sometimes it wasn’t enough.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked.
Stupid Sol. Of course she is not ok. She worked really hard for something she didn’t get, you get it, and you did not even have the decency to turn the offer down and let her have it. What kind of djinn are you, Sol, letting her talk about garlic bread when she’s probably so hurt because of you?
She let go her blond hair to rest against the temple of her friend and sighed.
“I’m sorry. I can still call Mark and turn it down. I don’t have what it takes to be Ariane, love. ”
Love. Once again. Love. How can you show someone you love them when you can’t even get things right?
Sol loved Chiara. She did. She began to love her in an instant, when her beautiful, colorful face took the blond one from the insidious darkness and despair that reigned in the purgatory. Sol loved Chiara because she was a child, a beautiful one, a broken one, with so many treasures in her heart that no one did care to look for. Hidden in plain sight, the beauty of her sole being that no one tried to even search. Well, Solal searched. Solal looked for the treasures, and there were loads of them. She loved Chiara as she grew up, becoming this sublime woman that still lived with her every day. And she was lucky, so very lucky, that her Chiara had heard her voice, that she awoke her from the void; Chiara gave her a chance to live, to rise up from those old shadows, and Sol loved her so very much.
Yet it had never been enough.
She never liked acting. She was not fond of it, she was not good at it, she did not like being on stage and feeling all those eyes on her. She was too shy, and quite frankly too passionate, to get the curve of her face in another character and play what the other would feel. Sol Delacroix could not be anyone else than Sol Delacroix. Not a single moment did she think that some day she would have to be. But she learned, for Chiara, for her human; because her human was brilliant. A beautiful little flower, emerging from the creaky boards that the vast stage was made of. A magnificent sunflower, awaking under the spotlights, that she would have looked at from the backstage if Chiara did not ask her to come. She would not have left her for any reason.
Chiara was ready. She had read the book, this huge, massive and indigest book, filled with so many insane words, dazzling and dizzying nights. Sol did read it with her, on those cloudy nights in the flat when they did not want to go out. She read it out loud -after all, she was supposed to be good at it- to Chiara, Chiara read some parts for herself, and both of them knew in their hearts that Chiara was to get that role. Ariane Deume, the foolish, the beautiful, the passionate Belle du Seigneur.
The manager thought things another way. Sol, who did not expect a leading role, ended up playing Ariane Deume, when her dear and pretty Chiara came up with this manipulative and narcissistic Solal des Solal. Oh, the irony. At this moment, Sol did not open her mouth to protest, to say Chiara was way better. Better at acting, better at loving, probably, since the djinn could not even get that right. She had not even been able to resign to let Chiara shine. Too shocked.
Now the keys were just clattering, as her amazing roommate opened the door to their apartment. And Solal was just not enough. The role was not enough. The djinn was not enough. She was not enough, not enough to make Chiara believe in herself, not enough to get Chiara what she deserved. She was such a poor djinn, and she should have resigned.
Chiara was silent. Desperately silent, and Sol had never had less words that could explain what she was feeling. Shame? Guilt? Sadness? None of that was enough, Chiara was clearly not okay, yet there was nothing she could do to make her sweet human and friend get any little bit better. The blond djinn got kind of relieved when her precious friend finally decided to open her mouth, staring blankly inside the fridge as if she’d hope to find answers in it.
“Yes !” she said, way too quickly to be untrue.
She approached the kitchen, her elbows meeting the counter as her face just fell back on her chest. Chiara was acting, once again. Acting as if she did not care. And she was, actually, quite good at it. But how could Sol be fooled? She knew her, she knew her and she loved her so much. How could she believe for an instant that Chiara was ok, when she had watched her work for months trying to get that role?
“We can try, I think I still have their number written down somewhere … ”
As she began to look for it, Chiara let her glass of water just clink onto the counter, with a dull sound hiding her face from the sad looks of her roommate.
No. She could not just let her and say nothing. Sol moved around the counter and put an arm over Chiara’s shoulders. With delicacy. Intimacy. With all the kindness that she could, just to show a bit of her love. Because she loved her way too much, and sometimes it wasn’t enough.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked.
Stupid Sol. Of course she is not ok. She worked really hard for something she didn’t get, you get it, and you did not even have the decency to turn the offer down and let her have it. What kind of djinn are you, Sol, letting her talk about garlic bread when she’s probably so hurt because of you?
She let go her blond hair to rest against the temple of her friend and sighed.
“I’m sorry. I can still call Mark and turn it down. I don’t have what it takes to be Ariane, love. ”
Love. Once again. Love. How can you show someone you love them when you can’t even get things right?
- Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Jeu 29 Avr 2021 - 16:23
| | | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
Chiara eyed her friend with an arched eyebrow. Sol’s enthusiasm was faked, she could tell. She could also tell that the djinn, like her, danced around the topic, not really knowing what to do. But sometimes there was nothing to tell – she’d learned that much growing up, watching her parents’ relationship deteriorate in utter silence. She nodded, waiting for her friend to look for the damn pamphlet and call the place in an attempt to make her feel better with the garlic bread, but instead she came to her, and Chiara shuddered at the touch. It awakened her and numbed her at the same time, comforting and electrifying, made her burst into a thousand pieces that could never form one solid puzzle. Never knew which pieces belonged to her, which belonged to the fantasized versions of herself, and which she had abandoned inside of Sol’s hands.
The actress shook her head. The harm was done, having Sol turn down the role would make things worse, even if she did get her role in the end, she would know that she hadn’t been the first choice. Was she ever? Could she have foreseen this? It was so very frustrating to do this to herself – to know, objectively, that she was loved. Badly, sometimes. Not the way she wanted to be loved, often. But she was loved. And it was never enough to appreciate it. She was responsible for her own unhappiness and there was not a damn thing that she could do about it. “Don’t” she told Sol, voice softened, still averting her eyes. “Mark’s right, you’ll be perfect. You always are.” The worst part was, she meant every word. She understood why her friend attracted every eye, why everyone loved her, why she was chosen time and time again. Chiara looked at her, she loved her, and she chose her day in and day out. Everything that made her love her, she hated as well. Eternally torn apart under the touch she craved so dearly.
Finally, she looked up and sighed, channelling every ounce of her acting skills into her fleeting smile. “I’ll work hard to make a good Solal. I’m glad it was you and not an emotionless buffoon.” Once again, both a truth and a lie. Sol was maybe the one other actress from the company that she could bear seeing in a role that meant so much to her. Nobody besides them could have done it justice. But also, it was the worst outcome possible – she didn’t love anybody as she loved her, it made losing to her even more painful. She stepped away, filling the room with crystalline and innocent laughter and made her way to the couch, removing her cardigan and throwing it across the room. She couldn’t stand this state of cold, of resentment. She felt too guilty. Too sad. She forced her eyes to glitter, her lips to form a smile, commanded her voice to be playful, her eyebrow to arch suggestively. “Plus, there are worse people I could kiss.” Sometimes she thought that was the secret to her success, to her talent. She had longed practiced saying out loud the worst things, the terrible ones, the ones that came from deep within her soul, and coated them in a joking tone, in meaningless conversation. She’d shaped her own mind to mould emotions, to drain the sarcasm and the hurt from the words.
And people still said she wasn’t talented enough to play the roles she wanted. The absolute fools.
The actress shook her head. The harm was done, having Sol turn down the role would make things worse, even if she did get her role in the end, she would know that she hadn’t been the first choice. Was she ever? Could she have foreseen this? It was so very frustrating to do this to herself – to know, objectively, that she was loved. Badly, sometimes. Not the way she wanted to be loved, often. But she was loved. And it was never enough to appreciate it. She was responsible for her own unhappiness and there was not a damn thing that she could do about it. “Don’t” she told Sol, voice softened, still averting her eyes. “Mark’s right, you’ll be perfect. You always are.” The worst part was, she meant every word. She understood why her friend attracted every eye, why everyone loved her, why she was chosen time and time again. Chiara looked at her, she loved her, and she chose her day in and day out. Everything that made her love her, she hated as well. Eternally torn apart under the touch she craved so dearly.
Finally, she looked up and sighed, channelling every ounce of her acting skills into her fleeting smile. “I’ll work hard to make a good Solal. I’m glad it was you and not an emotionless buffoon.” Once again, both a truth and a lie. Sol was maybe the one other actress from the company that she could bear seeing in a role that meant so much to her. Nobody besides them could have done it justice. But also, it was the worst outcome possible – she didn’t love anybody as she loved her, it made losing to her even more painful. She stepped away, filling the room with crystalline and innocent laughter and made her way to the couch, removing her cardigan and throwing it across the room. She couldn’t stand this state of cold, of resentment. She felt too guilty. Too sad. She forced her eyes to glitter, her lips to form a smile, commanded her voice to be playful, her eyebrow to arch suggestively. “Plus, there are worse people I could kiss.” Sometimes she thought that was the secret to her success, to her talent. She had longed practiced saying out loud the worst things, the terrible ones, the ones that came from deep within her soul, and coated them in a joking tone, in meaningless conversation. She’d shaped her own mind to mould emotions, to drain the sarcasm and the hurt from the words.
And people still said she wasn’t talented enough to play the roles she wanted. The absolute fools.
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
- Sol DelacroixMEMBRE ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :
❂ ❂ ❂
Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.
❂ ❂ ❂
D e l a c r o i x
Pseudo / Pronoms : Valhdia / elleMessages : 473Âge : 229 ANS (21/06/1792) ☀ une vingtaine sur la faceNombre de dés : 2Résidence : WASHINGTON ☀ colocation avec son humaine et amie ChiaraProfession : COMEDIENNE avec son humaine ☀ LECTRICE bénévole dans les établissements pénitenciersFaceclaim : Blake LivelyCrédits : poets-dpt (ava), self (aes), underratedboogeyman (aes delacroix). (aes).Multicomptes : Caliban & Orpheus & Hecate & Nova-Blue & Llyr & BoréePoints : 1241Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Mar 18 Mai 2021 - 18:12
Barefoot in the wildest winter.
Sol x Chiara
When Chiara was a child, they would watch this silly old cartoon, Aladdin. Sol really liked this movie. Aladdin, a little thief, found a magical lamp in a cave or something, and as he rubbed it came out a genie, grating three wishes. Chiara would laugh, poiting at Sol, and just to make her laugh some more the blond djinn would create an illusion that she was as blue as the genie, granting all Chiara’s wishes as she could.
Well, she sucked at this game.
She was not able of granting any wishes, she was not capable of helping her, getting her what she wanted, and sometimes in the darkest hours she could just hate herself for that. Oh, of course, things could have been a lot easier if she had just decided to let go of her morals. But she did not. She would not manipulate anyone to force her to commit onto something. She was way too straddling the line of consent, and quite frankly way too scared of what it could produce. She wondered what could have happened if she had deployed her power. Would Felix have died anyway? Would people have been unhappy? Would she still have her fingers untertwined with Milo’s? An endless series of question, which she could not dare to answer.
So she just held to her tighter, as she received her eulogy that she did not at all deserve.
“We both know you would have been … perfecter, love..” She sighed, holding her breath, holding her tears.
A smile drew itself on her lips, as Chiara articulated the word ‘buffoon’. Yeah, she was damn good. Way too good for her own sake, pretending to be his fierce, careless, beautiful human when she was beautifully damned and had every right to cry. How can you do this to me, Chiara? No lies, no play. You know I can see right through it, yet you keep playing it again. Why? I love you, and you don’t have to hide anything.
As Chiara freed herself from their embrace, just dropping into the sofa, Sol had a dilemma to face.
What could she do? Believe her, get in on her play, believe that she was just ok with all those things that had happened. Or try again, dig deeper, taking the risk of hurting her. She stared at her hands, powerless, on the counter. When did things get so complicated? When did making her happy start to to feel like a puzzle, a riddle that she could not answer to? That’s all she wanted to see, on the divine face of her roommate. Happiness. At all times. At all costs. Not this faked, glittering happiness, the real one, the feeling deep down to her core that Chiara belonged where she were. And more time passed, and more she felt that she could never achieve that.
Taking a deep breath, she decided. She could fake happy, too. If that was what she needed. If that was all she needed, Sol could do it. Chiara did not wanted to talk, well, let’s not talk. They would have all of their lives for that. But only this lot for today.
“Yeah, I’ll try not to eat too much garlic bread before getting on stage with you.” she said, winking at her friend.
Leaving the kitchen, she sat down, directly on the floor, facing Chiara with an expression on her face that meant everything in the world. I love you. I want to protect you. Let me. Let me protect you. I want you to feel happy. Let me stand back, stand down, so that you can be happier.
“Actually, I don’t think I would have been comfortable kissing someone I barely know on stage.” Chiara had given her a topic, Solal seized it as if it were a lifeline thrown into the sea. “I mean, I know it’s all a fake, and I know neither of us are seeing anyone at the moment, but…”
She blushed, biting her lip. Where was she going with that, again? Trying to cheer up her best friend, by talking more and more again of the topic that got her sad? What kind of person was she?
“Well, forget about it..” Her eyes encountered the floor again. “What do you want to eat ?”
Changing topic, as she could not be a genie. Not grant wishes. And definitely, definitely not make her happy.
Well, she sucked at this game.
She was not able of granting any wishes, she was not capable of helping her, getting her what she wanted, and sometimes in the darkest hours she could just hate herself for that. Oh, of course, things could have been a lot easier if she had just decided to let go of her morals. But she did not. She would not manipulate anyone to force her to commit onto something. She was way too straddling the line of consent, and quite frankly way too scared of what it could produce. She wondered what could have happened if she had deployed her power. Would Felix have died anyway? Would people have been unhappy? Would she still have her fingers untertwined with Milo’s? An endless series of question, which she could not dare to answer.
So she just held to her tighter, as she received her eulogy that she did not at all deserve.
“We both know you would have been … perfecter, love..” She sighed, holding her breath, holding her tears.
A smile drew itself on her lips, as Chiara articulated the word ‘buffoon’. Yeah, she was damn good. Way too good for her own sake, pretending to be his fierce, careless, beautiful human when she was beautifully damned and had every right to cry. How can you do this to me, Chiara? No lies, no play. You know I can see right through it, yet you keep playing it again. Why? I love you, and you don’t have to hide anything.
As Chiara freed herself from their embrace, just dropping into the sofa, Sol had a dilemma to face.
What could she do? Believe her, get in on her play, believe that she was just ok with all those things that had happened. Or try again, dig deeper, taking the risk of hurting her. She stared at her hands, powerless, on the counter. When did things get so complicated? When did making her happy start to to feel like a puzzle, a riddle that she could not answer to? That’s all she wanted to see, on the divine face of her roommate. Happiness. At all times. At all costs. Not this faked, glittering happiness, the real one, the feeling deep down to her core that Chiara belonged where she were. And more time passed, and more she felt that she could never achieve that.
Taking a deep breath, she decided. She could fake happy, too. If that was what she needed. If that was all she needed, Sol could do it. Chiara did not wanted to talk, well, let’s not talk. They would have all of their lives for that. But only this lot for today.
“Yeah, I’ll try not to eat too much garlic bread before getting on stage with you.” she said, winking at her friend.
Leaving the kitchen, she sat down, directly on the floor, facing Chiara with an expression on her face that meant everything in the world. I love you. I want to protect you. Let me. Let me protect you. I want you to feel happy. Let me stand back, stand down, so that you can be happier.
“Actually, I don’t think I would have been comfortable kissing someone I barely know on stage.” Chiara had given her a topic, Solal seized it as if it were a lifeline thrown into the sea. “I mean, I know it’s all a fake, and I know neither of us are seeing anyone at the moment, but…”
She blushed, biting her lip. Where was she going with that, again? Trying to cheer up her best friend, by talking more and more again of the topic that got her sad? What kind of person was she?
“Well, forget about it..” Her eyes encountered the floor again. “What do you want to eat ?”
Changing topic, as she could not be a genie. Not grant wishes. And definitely, definitely not make her happy.
- Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Dim 23 Mai 2021 - 23:15
| | | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
The way she keeps calling her love all the time. Do you love me, Sol? You don’t love me like I love you. She tries so hard though; Chiara can see it. Bending herself out of shape to be anything that her love wants her to be, needs her to be. She doesn’t understand that Chiara wants her to want to be those things, because she never found the courage to tell her. The very nature of their bond is always on the edge – Chiara called her from the depths, she gave her life and essence, and every day since Sol has repaid her thousandfold. There’s something of her inside the djinn, though she doesn’t quite know what it is. Sometimes she thinks Sol is the better version of what she could have been. Is there greater tragedy to stare into those eyes and know that she never meant for this to happen? That she keeps taking without wanting to? That she doesn’t enjoy the spotlight that she continuously is under? That she’d give it all up for her to be happy? Is there anything any of them can do at this point? It’s the helplessness that hurts.
A faint smile when Sol mentions the garlic bread. Would she have kissed her, had she still been with Milo? Would she have been able to taste him on her lips, a delicious mixture of her sweetness and his honour? Did it matter that she herself had not only someone, but two someones Sol had no idea about? Was it a good sign that she was able to hide it so well? Would the djinn be able to taste them both on her lipstick? So many questions, so few answers, just the eternal fog, and the longing, the craving for resolution. “It’s not a fake though, not really” she said distractedly. To torture herself, to keep control, a little bit longer. She didn’t want to talk; she did want to talk. She wanted Sol to decide for herself, she wanted to lead, she wanted the friction that came along with it. She wanted to tease, she wanted to risk it. “The story is about love, isn’t it? Does it really make a difference whether it’s romantic or not?” She gazed into Sol’s eyes, searching for the answer to a question she’d never dared ask.
Chiara felt like she was always on the brink of ruining everything.
It was a tribute to Sol’s patience that she always put up with the unsaid things, always went her way, whatever that was and especially when Chiara could not figure it out for herself. The door was never fully open, just as it was never completely closed, as if the actress purposefully left room for anything to happen. Was it love, though? Chiara did love her friend, but she didn’t love her well. Was it enough? Would it last? Would Chiara be grey and old and still bear to see the djinn as radiant as the day she first met her? Could she survive it? Or would she grow to resent her even harder, biting off chips of her until there was nothing but ashes and bitterness in her mouth? She wasn’t deserving of Sol’s love in any way. She only met her pure, selfless love with capriciousness and jealousy.
There was a satisfaction to it. To knowing that if she wanted to, she could sneak off tonight and meet either Aaren or Tristan or both, who would adore her and say that Sol wasn’t that pretty, wasn’t all that really. She’d know it wasn’t true, and she’d defend her friend for show, but she would gloat inside. That was the kind of horrible person that she was, the kind of person her parents raised – or did not raise, but spoil to make up for their lack of parental love. Unconditional love. Chiara had only known that from Sol. She’d been way too used to being a weapon in an argument, a punchline to hurt somebody else. A prize, a trophy to be won, and she’d learned to use it. Maybe they had not cared enough, but they’d at least taught her to be smart in the abuse.
She was a monument to all of their sins.
A faint smile when Sol mentions the garlic bread. Would she have kissed her, had she still been with Milo? Would she have been able to taste him on her lips, a delicious mixture of her sweetness and his honour? Did it matter that she herself had not only someone, but two someones Sol had no idea about? Was it a good sign that she was able to hide it so well? Would the djinn be able to taste them both on her lipstick? So many questions, so few answers, just the eternal fog, and the longing, the craving for resolution. “It’s not a fake though, not really” she said distractedly. To torture herself, to keep control, a little bit longer. She didn’t want to talk; she did want to talk. She wanted Sol to decide for herself, she wanted to lead, she wanted the friction that came along with it. She wanted to tease, she wanted to risk it. “The story is about love, isn’t it? Does it really make a difference whether it’s romantic or not?” She gazed into Sol’s eyes, searching for the answer to a question she’d never dared ask.
Chiara felt like she was always on the brink of ruining everything.
It was a tribute to Sol’s patience that she always put up with the unsaid things, always went her way, whatever that was and especially when Chiara could not figure it out for herself. The door was never fully open, just as it was never completely closed, as if the actress purposefully left room for anything to happen. Was it love, though? Chiara did love her friend, but she didn’t love her well. Was it enough? Would it last? Would Chiara be grey and old and still bear to see the djinn as radiant as the day she first met her? Could she survive it? Or would she grow to resent her even harder, biting off chips of her until there was nothing but ashes and bitterness in her mouth? She wasn’t deserving of Sol’s love in any way. She only met her pure, selfless love with capriciousness and jealousy.
There was a satisfaction to it. To knowing that if she wanted to, she could sneak off tonight and meet either Aaren or Tristan or both, who would adore her and say that Sol wasn’t that pretty, wasn’t all that really. She’d know it wasn’t true, and she’d defend her friend for show, but she would gloat inside. That was the kind of horrible person that she was, the kind of person her parents raised – or did not raise, but spoil to make up for their lack of parental love. Unconditional love. Chiara had only known that from Sol. She’d been way too used to being a weapon in an argument, a punchline to hurt somebody else. A prize, a trophy to be won, and she’d learned to use it. Maybe they had not cared enough, but they’d at least taught her to be smart in the abuse.
She was a monument to all of their sins.
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
- Sol DelacroixMEMBRE ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :
❂ ❂ ❂
Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.
❂ ❂ ❂
D e l a c r o i x
Pseudo / Pronoms : Valhdia / elleMessages : 473Âge : 229 ANS (21/06/1792) ☀ une vingtaine sur la faceNombre de dés : 2Résidence : WASHINGTON ☀ colocation avec son humaine et amie ChiaraProfession : COMEDIENNE avec son humaine ☀ LECTRICE bénévole dans les établissements pénitenciersFaceclaim : Blake LivelyCrédits : poets-dpt (ava), self (aes), underratedboogeyman (aes delacroix). (aes).Multicomptes : Caliban & Orpheus & Hecate & Nova-Blue & Llyr & BoréePoints : 1241Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Mer 2 Juin 2021 - 16:17
Barefoot in the wildest winter.
Sol x Chiara
Some nights, in the darkest hours, Sol thought about how Chiara would be so much happier without her. Any other djinn could have helped her, any other djinn could have done what she did. But no other djinn could hurt her like she hurt her.
Why did she have to catch everyone’s eyes, when all she really wanted was for her friend to be happy? She would have spent all her moments in the shadows, crawling into purgatory, if deep down she had known for sure that it would make Chiara happy. But she could not. She could not, and every time they got back home with that sad look on the human’s face, she could only see how she failed.
Sometimes, even when you wish for it, you cannot even get it right.
Her tights got caught up in the wooden floor, she tried to get them out as she could when Chiara talked to her again.
It felt like she was not even there for real, her mind slowaly floating away, keeping secrets even from Sol. And maybe that was even worse. The djinn kept telling to herself that she would do anything to make the young woman happy, to see her smile. She told herself she would be able to stand down, to get away. But it was so far from the truth. She could never leave Chiara, never really. She felt so attached to her, to her laugh, to the moments they spent together. How could she get away from that? Willingly?
If one day the human was to wake up and tell her she did not need her anymore, what use could she be for anyone else?
“The story, yes.” she stammered. “It’s all just a story. That’s what makes it fake.”
That’s why we call it acting. Because it’s not an action, not really.
“But you know what is not?” she smiled, overly enthusiast.
Rhetorical question, of course, she did not need Chiara to answer, nor to give her any look. She was trying to make her feel better, to make them both feel better. And somehow, she hoped it would work.
“Our friendship.”
She laughed a little, without heart. Even reminding her of that didn’t seem to comfort Chiara.
Then what the hell was she good at, exactly?
Why did she have to catch everyone’s eyes, when all she really wanted was for her friend to be happy? She would have spent all her moments in the shadows, crawling into purgatory, if deep down she had known for sure that it would make Chiara happy. But she could not. She could not, and every time they got back home with that sad look on the human’s face, she could only see how she failed.
Sometimes, even when you wish for it, you cannot even get it right.
Her tights got caught up in the wooden floor, she tried to get them out as she could when Chiara talked to her again.
It felt like she was not even there for real, her mind slowaly floating away, keeping secrets even from Sol. And maybe that was even worse. The djinn kept telling to herself that she would do anything to make the young woman happy, to see her smile. She told herself she would be able to stand down, to get away. But it was so far from the truth. She could never leave Chiara, never really. She felt so attached to her, to her laugh, to the moments they spent together. How could she get away from that? Willingly?
If one day the human was to wake up and tell her she did not need her anymore, what use could she be for anyone else?
“The story, yes.” she stammered. “It’s all just a story. That’s what makes it fake.”
That’s why we call it acting. Because it’s not an action, not really.
“But you know what is not?” she smiled, overly enthusiast.
Rhetorical question, of course, she did not need Chiara to answer, nor to give her any look. She was trying to make her feel better, to make them both feel better. And somehow, she hoped it would work.
“Our friendship.”
She laughed a little, without heart. Even reminding her of that didn’t seem to comfort Chiara.
Then what the hell was she good at, exactly?
- Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Lun 14 Juin 2021 - 23:26
| | | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
Chiara could feel Sol squirm, search for the right answer to her all too complicated and foggy question. She could feel that the djinn was trying to get it right, desperately. To please her, to say the right things, the things that would make it all okay. Sol wasn’t fooled – she knew the actress was upset, one of these moods where she drifted off to a dark place where she scratched at the open wounds, the wounds she would never acknowledge were even there. And worse, she liked that Sol felt helpless sometimes, that she couldn’t find anything right to say because Chiara demanded something impossible. It reminded her that her glowing and gorgeous friend wasn’t perfect, either. It made her love her more, made her hate her too. The impossible was Sol’s specialty – she was supernatural, unbound by the laws of mankind and logic. And yet, there was no way out of this, no way out of the golden prison in which they’d locked themselves.
The eager enthusiasm in her voice as she said friendship. Chiara smiled back, fondly. Distractedly. She wanted chaos. It would be so easy to let it go, to order the damn garlic bread and watch a movie, not say a word, and curl up in her arms because that was allowed, that passed as friendship. Just two gal-pals chilling on a couch. It would be easy to stay quiet, to forget the anger and the shivers. And usually, she did, because the alternative was too risky, because wreaking havoc had consequences – and life wasn’t a movie. If she made a mistake, she couldn’t just rewind. She couldn’t take it back. But it lingered on her lips, scratched her throats, and the words came out. “Am I your favourite person, Sol? Do you love me more than you love anyone else?” Did she really want to know? Would she tolerate any other answer than the affirmative? Would Solal even dare? Would she lie? Would Chiara notice? Would she forgive her the audacity of asking, or purposely tearing into sore flesh, of walking the line? Or did she want to be freed? Free to love someone else, to grieve for what could never be, and finally move on and bury the scraps of her that still longed for her? “Do you ever wish you got someone better? Less… high-maintenance, less dramatic?” Less all of the things she was insecure about and unable to make any kind of change? “I wouldn't blame you if you did” But she sure as hell wouldn't forgive her either.
The eager enthusiasm in her voice as she said friendship. Chiara smiled back, fondly. Distractedly. She wanted chaos. It would be so easy to let it go, to order the damn garlic bread and watch a movie, not say a word, and curl up in her arms because that was allowed, that passed as friendship. Just two gal-pals chilling on a couch. It would be easy to stay quiet, to forget the anger and the shivers. And usually, she did, because the alternative was too risky, because wreaking havoc had consequences – and life wasn’t a movie. If she made a mistake, she couldn’t just rewind. She couldn’t take it back. But it lingered on her lips, scratched her throats, and the words came out. “Am I your favourite person, Sol? Do you love me more than you love anyone else?” Did she really want to know? Would she tolerate any other answer than the affirmative? Would Solal even dare? Would she lie? Would Chiara notice? Would she forgive her the audacity of asking, or purposely tearing into sore flesh, of walking the line? Or did she want to be freed? Free to love someone else, to grieve for what could never be, and finally move on and bury the scraps of her that still longed for her? “Do you ever wish you got someone better? Less… high-maintenance, less dramatic?” Less all of the things she was insecure about and unable to make any kind of change? “I wouldn't blame you if you did” But she sure as hell wouldn't forgive her either.
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
- Sol DelacroixMEMBRE ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :
❂ ❂ ❂
Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.
❂ ❂ ❂
D e l a c r o i x
Pseudo / Pronoms : Valhdia / elleMessages : 473Âge : 229 ANS (21/06/1792) ☀ une vingtaine sur la faceNombre de dés : 2Résidence : WASHINGTON ☀ colocation avec son humaine et amie ChiaraProfession : COMEDIENNE avec son humaine ☀ LECTRICE bénévole dans les établissements pénitenciersFaceclaim : Blake LivelyCrédits : poets-dpt (ava), self (aes), underratedboogeyman (aes delacroix). (aes).Multicomptes : Caliban & Orpheus & Hecate & Nova-Blue & Llyr & BoréePoints : 1241Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Jeu 1 Juil 2021 - 16:01
Barefoot in the wildest winter.
Sol x Chiara
One of these days where nothing could get it right. Sol felt helpless, powerless, filled with the glorious discomfort that she was not enough for her. Some days, life seemed impossible. Like a puzzle, a riddle she could not answer to. Chiara was complex ; beautiful mind, beautiful soul. That made Sol love her so much more, seeing her understand the world even when she was just human. Sometimes, she kept thinking of what could be if they were to be inverted. Solal, the sweet human. Chiara, the magnificent djinn.
Would it change anything, really?
Get up. Try to smile. In this silly old universe where every soul needed saving. Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. Cause hate is always foolish, and love is always wise. Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind.
Well, she tried. Human, djinn, she might as well be a nymph or a dragon for what that was worth. She tried to be kind. Brave. Kind. Kindness and heart. Yet this night, looking at Chiara, she could only see how trying had and would never be enough. As the actress slightly smiled back, hiding the pain behind her lips, Sol felt like she was just a fraud. Come, gather ‘round, children, come and see the djinn who is so bad at being kind that instead of making her human happy, she’s making her sad and bitter! Boo her, mock her, as the great enigma of life has not found answer in her core!
The melliflu voice of Chiara drew her of these dark, silly thoughts.
And the question just broke her heart.
“Hey… what do you mean?”
How could she ever doubt of that? That Sol loved her and would do anything? How many times had she told Chiara all she was willing to achieve just to get her where she wanted to? Frowning eyebrows, she got back up to fall on the couch, near Chiara staring blank the floor. She put an arm around her human's shoulders, distraught. Pressed her forehead onto her temple. Holding her so she could not doubt. Holding her so they could be them, Sol and Chiara, Chiara and Sol, getting back to another time where happiness was easier.
“I would not trade you for any other human in the world.” She said, straightforward tone without a doubt. “You are pretty, smart, amazing, and I would not trade our relationship for anything else, love.”
The truth was flowing in her veins, and everything she said was real. So, so real. If only Chiara could see it. If only Chiara could see herself in the mirror as she saw her. Gorgeous. Clever. Some other djinn would have look at her like she was nothing but an ant, a tiny thing ready to disappear. To Sol, she looked like a giant.
“I know I…” she stammered. “I know I’m not the djinn you need, but…”
Trying to keep control of her emotions, not to let go so that her friend would not feel in her the sadness her question had raised.
“But I love you.”
I love you, Chiara, I love you with all my soul. You are human, but you are light, what gives my life purpose and sense. You are the reason I got up from the shadows, the reason I am where I am. Without you, I am nothing. I love you because you love me, because I see the real you, the one broken inside the shell who wishes someone will come to her. Well, I am coming to you, Chiara, I am coming to your sweet heart, your kindest soul and your humanity. I am coming to you and I love you. You make me wanna get better, everyday, to reach out for you.
Without you, I would be nothing, but with you I am everything.
“I love you, and I’m sorry it’s not enough.”
Would it change anything, really?
Get up. Try to smile. In this silly old universe where every soul needed saving. Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. Cause hate is always foolish, and love is always wise. Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind.
Well, she tried. Human, djinn, she might as well be a nymph or a dragon for what that was worth. She tried to be kind. Brave. Kind. Kindness and heart. Yet this night, looking at Chiara, she could only see how trying had and would never be enough. As the actress slightly smiled back, hiding the pain behind her lips, Sol felt like she was just a fraud. Come, gather ‘round, children, come and see the djinn who is so bad at being kind that instead of making her human happy, she’s making her sad and bitter! Boo her, mock her, as the great enigma of life has not found answer in her core!
The melliflu voice of Chiara drew her of these dark, silly thoughts.
And the question just broke her heart.
“Hey… what do you mean?”
How could she ever doubt of that? That Sol loved her and would do anything? How many times had she told Chiara all she was willing to achieve just to get her where she wanted to? Frowning eyebrows, she got back up to fall on the couch, near Chiara staring blank the floor. She put an arm around her human's shoulders, distraught. Pressed her forehead onto her temple. Holding her so she could not doubt. Holding her so they could be them, Sol and Chiara, Chiara and Sol, getting back to another time where happiness was easier.
“I would not trade you for any other human in the world.” She said, straightforward tone without a doubt. “You are pretty, smart, amazing, and I would not trade our relationship for anything else, love.”
The truth was flowing in her veins, and everything she said was real. So, so real. If only Chiara could see it. If only Chiara could see herself in the mirror as she saw her. Gorgeous. Clever. Some other djinn would have look at her like she was nothing but an ant, a tiny thing ready to disappear. To Sol, she looked like a giant.
“I know I…” she stammered. “I know I’m not the djinn you need, but…”
Trying to keep control of her emotions, not to let go so that her friend would not feel in her the sadness her question had raised.
“But I love you.”
I love you, Chiara, I love you with all my soul. You are human, but you are light, what gives my life purpose and sense. You are the reason I got up from the shadows, the reason I am where I am. Without you, I am nothing. I love you because you love me, because I see the real you, the one broken inside the shell who wishes someone will come to her. Well, I am coming to you, Chiara, I am coming to your sweet heart, your kindest soul and your humanity. I am coming to you and I love you. You make me wanna get better, everyday, to reach out for you.
Without you, I would be nothing, but with you I am everything.
“I love you, and I’m sorry it’s not enough.”
- Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Sam 21 Aoû 2021 - 18:54
| | | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
It wasn’t fair to Sol, that much she already knew. Of course, her friend would never say bad, even in the unlikely event that she meant it. Because that was just who she was. Chiara wasn’t sure what she was trying to achieve with that question, to which there was only one acceptable answer, which they both knew. The whole thing was a trap for them both. It wasn’t fair. But sometimes the human only found pleasure and satisfaction in pushing painful buttons, in wrecking it all just so as to know things are real. Real life was messy, disorganised, and she’d learned to express her anger in many ways. But it seemed to her that Sol had always been that beautiful, beautiful doll. Sad sometimes, with her blue watering eyes and her perfect white skin. But always beautiful, always tender, not a tinge of malice or manipulation or annoyance. There was a perverse thrill in trying to get a rise out of her. Of course, she failed spectacularly every time – Sol just wasn’t that kind of person. Even now, tricked and backed up to a wall with a sick question, such an obvious symptom of manipulation and emotional distress, she blamed herself. It was infuriating. “I would love you even if you weren’t a djinn” Chiara murmured, fingers intertwined in the velvet of a nearby cushion. Bright pink, she’d chosen it herself to spite her mom who would never let her wear pink as a child, for fear that her daughter too, would be nicknamed ‘Black Barbie’ by malicious and cruel kids. “I would love you even if you were nothing” If you were like me, she meant, of course. Sol could never be nothing.
She smiled. Would she? Trade their relationship for anything else? There was a time when the actress would have done so in a heartbeat, would have replaced their friendship with romance. Today, everything was scrambled, complicated. There was Tristan. There was Aaren. There was all the comfort they brought her, and they hated Sol. The only two people in the world who did so. And she was so grateful for them to do so. She was so grateful for them, period. “Thank you for seeing me as much better than I am. I know you mean it.” That’s why it’s so hard for me to know how I feel about you. “Do you think we would have been friends if I hadn’t called you from the funfair? I like to think so, but sometimes I’m not sure. We’re so different.” Night and day, her mother had called them. It wasn’t hard to determine who she called Day.
It would have been easy if Hana had just loved Sol better, then she would have had someone to blame, someone to feed the anger and the resentment. But she didn’t prefer the djinn. She just didn’t care. There was no reason, no explanation. She was the reason Chiara didn’t want kids of her own. Everything always came back to that, to Hana. To why Sol had to be mother, sister, teacher, friend, guardian, why she was family in all the different shapes and forms that family came in. Except one.
She smiled. Would she? Trade their relationship for anything else? There was a time when the actress would have done so in a heartbeat, would have replaced their friendship with romance. Today, everything was scrambled, complicated. There was Tristan. There was Aaren. There was all the comfort they brought her, and they hated Sol. The only two people in the world who did so. And she was so grateful for them to do so. She was so grateful for them, period. “Thank you for seeing me as much better than I am. I know you mean it.” That’s why it’s so hard for me to know how I feel about you. “Do you think we would have been friends if I hadn’t called you from the funfair? I like to think so, but sometimes I’m not sure. We’re so different.” Night and day, her mother had called them. It wasn’t hard to determine who she called Day.
It would have been easy if Hana had just loved Sol better, then she would have had someone to blame, someone to feed the anger and the resentment. But she didn’t prefer the djinn. She just didn’t care. There was no reason, no explanation. She was the reason Chiara didn’t want kids of her own. Everything always came back to that, to Hana. To why Sol had to be mother, sister, teacher, friend, guardian, why she was family in all the different shapes and forms that family came in. Except one.
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
- Sol DelacroixMEMBRE ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :
❂ ❂ ❂
Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.
❂ ❂ ❂
D e l a c r o i x
Pseudo / Pronoms : Valhdia / elleMessages : 473Âge : 229 ANS (21/06/1792) ☀ une vingtaine sur la faceNombre de dés : 2Résidence : WASHINGTON ☀ colocation avec son humaine et amie ChiaraProfession : COMEDIENNE avec son humaine ☀ LECTRICE bénévole dans les établissements pénitenciersFaceclaim : Blake LivelyCrédits : poets-dpt (ava), self (aes), underratedboogeyman (aes delacroix). (aes).Multicomptes : Caliban & Orpheus & Hecate & Nova-Blue & Llyr & BoréePoints : 1241Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Mer 25 Aoû 2021 - 10:14
Barefoot in the wildest winter.
Sol x Chiara
Why couldn’t she get things right? Sol tried so much, so hard, yet it was not enough. Never had been and, supposedly, never would be. What use was she, then? What use of a djinn that cannot help, that cannot make Chiara smile?
I would love you even if you were nothing.
What was it about, then? Sol wished they could go back to a time when things were not so… tangled. Complicated. Blurry. Back to high school, running with the boys in the hallway, role-playing nights at Sören’s, silent winters when Chiara would get sick and Sol just sing to make her sleep. But the past goes by, as she was designed to understand. Past flies away, and you can never catch it back.
Sometimes Sol wondered when her human begun to be this unhappy. Maybe she was afraid the answer was that she always had been, and her grand entrance in her life didn’t make any change at all. The moment after, she would decide to let go of these thoughts and just, do better. Grow kinder. Comfort her. Make her better. For she deserved it so much.
“So do I, Chiara.”
Her name on the lips of the djinn just tasted like honey. She had said it so many times. Chiara. Chiara. Chiara. Chiara. Chiara, from day one she loved her, from day one she had not waned anything more than to hear her laughing. But with years, there was less laughs, more tears. And more awkward silent moments during which Sol could read her eyes, but no really know what she thought. What are you thinking about, Chiara? Is it still about the play? You use to tell me everything, to ask me everything you need. When did it stop? When did I stop being worthy of your confidences? Or maybe are you too afraid, afraid what I might think of you, afraid to tell me what happens in your beautiful, pretty head. Maybe can you just not say it, you cannot tell me what you need because all you need from me is to go away.
And if Chiara asked her to go… would she?
“I do not think of you as better than you are.” Sol hit the couch with her free hand. “You see yourself as less than you are. If only… if only you could see it, love.”
And then the actress asked what was at the top of her mind. Of course. Always this. This question. Would Sol have helped here get there if she was no djinn, and the bond between them related to nothing more than circumstances? If they really went to high school together, two teenage girls ready to meet new faces, what would have happened then?
Solal thought about it for an instant, conscious that every second passing must get Chiara in discomfort.
“I don’t know.” She finally admitted.
Because it was the truth. She was able of many things, but not seeing how things could be if they were slightly different. That was the truth; she did not know.
“If our paths had crossed another way, I don’t know what we could be. I think I would have admire you for you beauty, your tenacity, and this amazing project of yours to be the best comedian in town. I don’t know if I would have been able to talk to you, I’m a bit too shy, and you are a bit too… intimidating.”
She slightly smiled. Yes, she probably would have be intimidated by the amazing charisma Chiara was able to deploy.
“I guess if I did, if I did talk to you… yes, we would have been friends. I think. Who can tell?”
She held her friend a little closer, feeling her heartbeat everywhere. In order to remind her briefly that they were here, and now. Not lost in the what if of what they could or could not have been under other circumstances. They were Sol and Chiara, djinn and human, cosmos crewing their way through.
“But we met at this funfair, and then you grew up, and we met Milo, and Sören, and we took this apartment, and… nothing in my life would be the same if you were not here.”
Sol sighed a little bit. She missed those times when there were four of them instead of two. She missed Milo, but also their chemistry, the four seniors laughing in the cafeteria. Her eyes went right into blank space as she asked with a neutral tone
“Don’t you miss them sometimes?”
I would love you even if you were nothing.
What was it about, then? Sol wished they could go back to a time when things were not so… tangled. Complicated. Blurry. Back to high school, running with the boys in the hallway, role-playing nights at Sören’s, silent winters when Chiara would get sick and Sol just sing to make her sleep. But the past goes by, as she was designed to understand. Past flies away, and you can never catch it back.
Sometimes Sol wondered when her human begun to be this unhappy. Maybe she was afraid the answer was that she always had been, and her grand entrance in her life didn’t make any change at all. The moment after, she would decide to let go of these thoughts and just, do better. Grow kinder. Comfort her. Make her better. For she deserved it so much.
“So do I, Chiara.”
Her name on the lips of the djinn just tasted like honey. She had said it so many times. Chiara. Chiara. Chiara. Chiara. Chiara, from day one she loved her, from day one she had not waned anything more than to hear her laughing. But with years, there was less laughs, more tears. And more awkward silent moments during which Sol could read her eyes, but no really know what she thought. What are you thinking about, Chiara? Is it still about the play? You use to tell me everything, to ask me everything you need. When did it stop? When did I stop being worthy of your confidences? Or maybe are you too afraid, afraid what I might think of you, afraid to tell me what happens in your beautiful, pretty head. Maybe can you just not say it, you cannot tell me what you need because all you need from me is to go away.
And if Chiara asked her to go… would she?
“I do not think of you as better than you are.” Sol hit the couch with her free hand. “You see yourself as less than you are. If only… if only you could see it, love.”
And then the actress asked what was at the top of her mind. Of course. Always this. This question. Would Sol have helped here get there if she was no djinn, and the bond between them related to nothing more than circumstances? If they really went to high school together, two teenage girls ready to meet new faces, what would have happened then?
Solal thought about it for an instant, conscious that every second passing must get Chiara in discomfort.
“I don’t know.” She finally admitted.
Because it was the truth. She was able of many things, but not seeing how things could be if they were slightly different. That was the truth; she did not know.
“If our paths had crossed another way, I don’t know what we could be. I think I would have admire you for you beauty, your tenacity, and this amazing project of yours to be the best comedian in town. I don’t know if I would have been able to talk to you, I’m a bit too shy, and you are a bit too… intimidating.”
She slightly smiled. Yes, she probably would have be intimidated by the amazing charisma Chiara was able to deploy.
“I guess if I did, if I did talk to you… yes, we would have been friends. I think. Who can tell?”
She held her friend a little closer, feeling her heartbeat everywhere. In order to remind her briefly that they were here, and now. Not lost in the what if of what they could or could not have been under other circumstances. They were Sol and Chiara, djinn and human, cosmos crewing their way through.
“But we met at this funfair, and then you grew up, and we met Milo, and Sören, and we took this apartment, and… nothing in my life would be the same if you were not here.”
Sol sighed a little bit. She missed those times when there were four of them instead of two. She missed Milo, but also their chemistry, the four seniors laughing in the cafeteria. Her eyes went right into blank space as she asked with a neutral tone
“Don’t you miss them sometimes?”
- Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Jeu 21 Oct 2021 - 14:53
| | | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
There was the tenderness of a thousand cool summers in her eyes. A sweetness, as she tried yet again to reassure Chiara. To make her feel special, relentlessly, as if it was her job. The actress had learned the hard way that her happiness was her own responsibility, and still struggled to this day to put the theory to practice. Today still she relied on Sol for validation, for affection ; less and less though, as her relationship to Tristan and Aaren progressed, as she grew into her own. They gave her power and she relished in every second of it. Power that she otherwise lacked, power she always fell short of when she laid on this sofa, looking into these big beautiful eyes. As Sol replied softly, Chiara sunk a little bit more into the fabric and stressed her entire body over the memory foam that they spent so much on, her head resting on the djinn’s crossed knees. It was funny that Sol thought she was intimidating. She was better at hiding her insecurities, most likely. She’d had to pretend her entire life that she didn’t need validation from anyone, that she didn’t need words of encouragement. But she did, oh, that she did.
The question thundered under her skin. Would we have been more than friends? Would you have loved me, if you hadn’t known me since I was a little girl? If you didn’t have to parent me as well as befriend me? Who can tell, indeed. Thankfully, the djinn kept going and the moment passed, the frail window of opportunity to ask was gone, and that was something to be grateful for. “I do.” And she did miss them. She missed the simpler times, the chocolate chip pancakes and homemade pizza that she miserably failed every time but still brought to their parties cause they seemed to enjoy it for some reason. She missed the video games, even though she was always the first one killed or the last one at the finish line. She didn’t miss the jealousy though, looking at the golden couple and Sören who had always liked her least. “I think you miss them more, though. And I’m sure they miss you more than they miss me” Even though you’re the one who fucked up, she almost said. But even though time had passed, the topic was still sore and she still felt a little too guilty. Sol had made a mistake but Chiara had made sure she wouldn’t be able to ask for forgiveness before the sentence fell through. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. I know that for a while I was so happy to be part of something that special, I kinda lost myself in it. Now we each get to have our own friends, sort of. A space to grow, a space to do our own thing, keep our own secrets, if we want to.” And some secret she kept… A shameless hint, wondering whether Sol would take the bait. One of the only two secrets she had ever kept from her, the gifted and smooth liar that she was. She was tired. One of them had to go. She’d have to choose which one to finally let go of ; she looked into Sol’s eyes, upside down, peering gaze to help her decide which heartbreak she needed the most.
The question thundered under her skin. Would we have been more than friends? Would you have loved me, if you hadn’t known me since I was a little girl? If you didn’t have to parent me as well as befriend me? Who can tell, indeed. Thankfully, the djinn kept going and the moment passed, the frail window of opportunity to ask was gone, and that was something to be grateful for. “I do.” And she did miss them. She missed the simpler times, the chocolate chip pancakes and homemade pizza that she miserably failed every time but still brought to their parties cause they seemed to enjoy it for some reason. She missed the video games, even though she was always the first one killed or the last one at the finish line. She didn’t miss the jealousy though, looking at the golden couple and Sören who had always liked her least. “I think you miss them more, though. And I’m sure they miss you more than they miss me” Even though you’re the one who fucked up, she almost said. But even though time had passed, the topic was still sore and she still felt a little too guilty. Sol had made a mistake but Chiara had made sure she wouldn’t be able to ask for forgiveness before the sentence fell through. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. I know that for a while I was so happy to be part of something that special, I kinda lost myself in it. Now we each get to have our own friends, sort of. A space to grow, a space to do our own thing, keep our own secrets, if we want to.” And some secret she kept… A shameless hint, wondering whether Sol would take the bait. One of the only two secrets she had ever kept from her, the gifted and smooth liar that she was. She was tired. One of them had to go. She’d have to choose which one to finally let go of ; she looked into Sol’s eyes, upside down, peering gaze to help her decide which heartbreak she needed the most.
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
- Sol DelacroixMEMBRE ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :
❂ ❂ ❂
Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.
❂ ❂ ❂
D e l a c r o i x
Pseudo / Pronoms : Valhdia / elleMessages : 473Âge : 229 ANS (21/06/1792) ☀ une vingtaine sur la faceNombre de dés : 2Résidence : WASHINGTON ☀ colocation avec son humaine et amie ChiaraProfession : COMEDIENNE avec son humaine ☀ LECTRICE bénévole dans les établissements pénitenciersFaceclaim : Blake LivelyCrédits : poets-dpt (ava), self (aes), underratedboogeyman (aes delacroix). (aes).Multicomptes : Caliban & Orpheus & Hecate & Nova-Blue & Llyr & BoréePoints : 1241Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Dim 7 Nov 2021 - 20:30
Barefoot in the wildest winter.
Sol x Chiara
Sol could not quite remember how it happened. Them. How did her eyes crossed Milo’s, and how did they started hanging out? Time moving forward, this kind of simple memories just got harder and harder to reach. She did not remember the why, only the when and those feelings she had everytime they were four. Four in the park, four at school, four hanging out at Sol and Chiara’s, at Milo’s, at Sören’s, everywhere ; the wild echoes of their laughter filling the air with insouciance. Burnt pizzas, mario kart, role playing. Whole nights filled with dungeons and dragons, groping for Milo’s foot under the table.
Being happy.
Not that Sol was unhappy now, but somehow it was not the same. Because she had broken the light, the beauty of her cosmos crew. Because Sören had forgiven her, but still it would never be the same again. The bookmark of ther DnD books would always stay on the same page, as they never got to finish their campaign. A symbol of this weird fracture, of what they all lost growing up : the bookmark marked their before and their after. The time when they were together, and then the ungracious unknown where they had to find their own way, cause Solal messed everything up.
« Don’t say that. » She said automatically. « It was always the four of us, and you know they did love you too. »
She gently stroked the arm of her human, as to help her to wash away all of these insecurities. They were four, and now there’s two of them. Two guys. Two girls. And no way going back through time to catch up all lost memories. One of Sol’s biggest regrets ; even though she was immortal, she had no TARDIS of her own to go and just relive again those moments that forged who she was.
She smiled, pensive, at her Chiara.
« You’re right. It’s just… I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I didn’t screw everything up. » She sighed. « I guess we’ll never know. »
Gently leaning forward, she placed a kiss on Chiara’s forehead, as she has done a thousand times since her human was a little girl. A kiss to reinsure, a kiss to remember. A promise that she wouldn’t go, head back into purgatory, without Chiara being happy in an amazing, sparkly life that they would build from her desire.
« I’m not keeping secrets from you, love. Never. » She said, her lips just above Chiara’s face.
She moved back into the couch, her friend still leaning on her lap, and stared into her wide dark eyes. Her mouth formed a sad, loving smile. Of course, they were growing up; and Chiara much faster than her. They just could not share everything, it was very selfish of Sol to just hope it would be otherwise. She just hoped Chiara did not think she was keeping some things from her.
Or maybe was it the other way around? In her human’s look, there was this flame, this taunting Sol could decipher when no one else could see a light. That thought made her even more sad, thinking that she was not the one Chiara could ask her questions to. Not anymore. She was growing up, really fast, and now for what Solal could know she might as well be a stranger with this weird fire in her eyes.
Almost murmuring she asked: « Do you? »
Do you, Chiara? Do you keep your secrets from me, cause I’m not worthy anymore? Do you hide things from your old djinn, not able to make you happy? I tried to be the best for you. I always have, I always will. And if you need another place to express whatever you need, then so be it, my sweet actress. But please don’t push me away yet. Don’t push me back in the shadows. I’m afraid of what I might find in the darkness if I fail you. I’m afraid of what I might be without your will to guide my days.
I’m afraid of what I might be if you don't need me anymore.
Being happy.
Not that Sol was unhappy now, but somehow it was not the same. Because she had broken the light, the beauty of her cosmos crew. Because Sören had forgiven her, but still it would never be the same again. The bookmark of ther DnD books would always stay on the same page, as they never got to finish their campaign. A symbol of this weird fracture, of what they all lost growing up : the bookmark marked their before and their after. The time when they were together, and then the ungracious unknown where they had to find their own way, cause Solal messed everything up.
« Don’t say that. » She said automatically. « It was always the four of us, and you know they did love you too. »
She gently stroked the arm of her human, as to help her to wash away all of these insecurities. They were four, and now there’s two of them. Two guys. Two girls. And no way going back through time to catch up all lost memories. One of Sol’s biggest regrets ; even though she was immortal, she had no TARDIS of her own to go and just relive again those moments that forged who she was.
She smiled, pensive, at her Chiara.
« You’re right. It’s just… I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I didn’t screw everything up. » She sighed. « I guess we’ll never know. »
Gently leaning forward, she placed a kiss on Chiara’s forehead, as she has done a thousand times since her human was a little girl. A kiss to reinsure, a kiss to remember. A promise that she wouldn’t go, head back into purgatory, without Chiara being happy in an amazing, sparkly life that they would build from her desire.
« I’m not keeping secrets from you, love. Never. » She said, her lips just above Chiara’s face.
She moved back into the couch, her friend still leaning on her lap, and stared into her wide dark eyes. Her mouth formed a sad, loving smile. Of course, they were growing up; and Chiara much faster than her. They just could not share everything, it was very selfish of Sol to just hope it would be otherwise. She just hoped Chiara did not think she was keeping some things from her.
Or maybe was it the other way around? In her human’s look, there was this flame, this taunting Sol could decipher when no one else could see a light. That thought made her even more sad, thinking that she was not the one Chiara could ask her questions to. Not anymore. She was growing up, really fast, and now for what Solal could know she might as well be a stranger with this weird fire in her eyes.
Almost murmuring she asked: « Do you? »
Do you, Chiara? Do you keep your secrets from me, cause I’m not worthy anymore? Do you hide things from your old djinn, not able to make you happy? I tried to be the best for you. I always have, I always will. And if you need another place to express whatever you need, then so be it, my sweet actress. But please don’t push me away yet. Don’t push me back in the shadows. I’m afraid of what I might find in the darkness if I fail you. I’m afraid of what I might be without your will to guide my days.
I’m afraid of what I might be if you don't need me anymore.
- Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Lun 17 Jan 2022 - 13:00
| | | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
A good friend would have told her that she didn’t screw everything up, as she lashed the words on her bare skin like a thousand whips. Chiara wasn’t a good friend – Sol was. Sol told her that she was as loved as she was, though they both knew that wasn’t quite true, but couldn’t quite bring herself to admit it. Sol cared. That gave her the ability to support her for a hundred lifetimes; and Chiara couldn’t even do that for a single one. The actress remained silent, unable to offer words of support.
A good friend would have said ‘you didn’t screw anything up, you did the best you could, and life sometimes comes in the way and that’s not your fault, a mistake doesn’t make you a bad person’. Chiara wasn’t a good friend. Maybe because she had spent so long trying very hard not to be her friend, for the sake of something more – and the failure made her bitter.
Was she even ready to make that confession? To finally explain why she inexplicably let Sol down again and again, why she relished in her mistakes and why nothing the djinn did could ever make her truly happy? Three little words. A single breath. A whisper. Chiara could scream, she could yell and soliloquy for hours at a time on a stage. But the damn eight letters? They felt like lead, like tar on her wretched wings. “Yeah, I do.” She was one letter short. One lifetime wasted on the precipice. “I don’t know why” A lie, again. Why couldn’t she do anything but lie? You know why, Chiara. You’re a coward, you can’t be vulnerable, you’d rather wrap yourself in your pride and smother yourself with it. “I’m seeing someone.” She couldn’t feel the stroke of Sol’s hand on her arm anymore. No way to tell whether it was because she’d taken her hand back or because Chiara suddenly went numb from the confession. “Two someones, actually” This probably would explain why she hadn’t said anything, a justification all ready to go, even though it was the wrong one. She wasn’t afraid of her friend’s judgement, not really, not like she might think. “Have been for a while now. Nobody knows” Including me, Chiara thought. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing but I can’t imagine myself without it, without them. They’re the perfect puzzle piece to fill the hole in my ribcage in the shape of you.
A good friend would have said ‘you didn’t screw anything up, you did the best you could, and life sometimes comes in the way and that’s not your fault, a mistake doesn’t make you a bad person’. Chiara wasn’t a good friend. Maybe because she had spent so long trying very hard not to be her friend, for the sake of something more – and the failure made her bitter.
Was she even ready to make that confession? To finally explain why she inexplicably let Sol down again and again, why she relished in her mistakes and why nothing the djinn did could ever make her truly happy? Three little words. A single breath. A whisper. Chiara could scream, she could yell and soliloquy for hours at a time on a stage. But the damn eight letters? They felt like lead, like tar on her wretched wings. “Yeah, I do.” She was one letter short. One lifetime wasted on the precipice. “I don’t know why” A lie, again. Why couldn’t she do anything but lie? You know why, Chiara. You’re a coward, you can’t be vulnerable, you’d rather wrap yourself in your pride and smother yourself with it. “I’m seeing someone.” She couldn’t feel the stroke of Sol’s hand on her arm anymore. No way to tell whether it was because she’d taken her hand back or because Chiara suddenly went numb from the confession. “Two someones, actually” This probably would explain why she hadn’t said anything, a justification all ready to go, even though it was the wrong one. She wasn’t afraid of her friend’s judgement, not really, not like she might think. “Have been for a while now. Nobody knows” Including me, Chiara thought. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing but I can’t imagine myself without it, without them. They’re the perfect puzzle piece to fill the hole in my ribcage in the shape of you.
CODAGE PAR AMATIS
- Sol DelacroixMEMBRE ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :
❂ ❂ ❂
Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.
❂ ❂ ❂
D e l a c r o i x
Pseudo / Pronoms : Valhdia / elleMessages : 473Âge : 229 ANS (21/06/1792) ☀ une vingtaine sur la faceNombre de dés : 2Résidence : WASHINGTON ☀ colocation avec son humaine et amie ChiaraProfession : COMEDIENNE avec son humaine ☀ LECTRICE bénévole dans les établissements pénitenciersFaceclaim : Blake LivelyCrédits : poets-dpt (ava), self (aes), underratedboogeyman (aes delacroix). (aes).Multicomptes : Caliban & Orpheus & Hecate & Nova-Blue & Llyr & BoréePoints : 1241Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Dim 13 Fév 2022 - 19:33
Barefoot in the wildest winter
Sol | Chiara
I do.
She does. She does keep things from me. She does, and I feel like my heart is burning underneath my skin. She does, and I wish I could not feel sad, but somehow I can’t get it right.
I do.
Isn’t that something you say on joyful occasions? Weeding days, love stories, happy moments. But Chiara does, she does lie, she does hide, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to just admit she does from me. She does. She does and she doesn’t know why. Because she’s as lost as she has always been, and I’m not even good enough to help her find her way back home. She does, and she’s so beautiful, so pretty, so everything she wanted to be, that I don’t feel like I’m useful anymore. Maybe, somehow, I never was.
Two someones.
« Oh. »
I wish I could tell you, Chiara. I wish I could tell you what I feel but I’m not even sure of that. I’ve loved you from the beginning, and I just wanted you to trust. Trust that I’d be there for you. Trust that I would stay, no matter what. Not only because I’m your djinn. Not even for the most part. Because I’m your friend, Chiara, I wanted to be your best friend, somebody you could rely on.
Looks like I failed.
But it’s okay, I swear. It’s okay that you did not tell me. I know you’re lost, I know you’re scared, and I know that you’re hiding it. I just wanted to make you feel you didn’t need to hide from me. It’s okay, everything is okay, Chiara, I will always be by your side. I’m sad, but not because of you, because of who I want to be and I very obviously failed. I’m sad because you must have felt so lonely with that big old secret laying in there, and I could not take it off your chest. I wish I could take your sorrow.
Gentle hand on your forehead, love, I smile like when you were little.
« Thanks for trusting me with this. »
I won’t say it’s a bit too late, I won’t say I wish I’d have know. I won’t say that to you, Chiara. Because that is not what I think. Others, maybe. Not me. I’m just here. And I wish that you could see it.
« I… Well, I did not expect that. »
I try to laugh but I think I’m choking.
« Do you want to… tell me more? About… them? »
It’s okay if you don’t want to. I won’t ask. I will leave you be, stay right there where you’re needing me. I just wish you would know, Chiara, that you can trust me with those things. I don’t care who you’re seeing, how many people you’re seeing, I don’t care, I’d like to meet them, sometimes, if you feel that is right. I don’t care, if you make me sad, a little bit, from time to time.
As long as they make you happy.
She does. She does keep things from me. She does, and I feel like my heart is burning underneath my skin. She does, and I wish I could not feel sad, but somehow I can’t get it right.
I do.
Isn’t that something you say on joyful occasions? Weeding days, love stories, happy moments. But Chiara does, she does lie, she does hide, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to just admit she does from me. She does. She does and she doesn’t know why. Because she’s as lost as she has always been, and I’m not even good enough to help her find her way back home. She does, and she’s so beautiful, so pretty, so everything she wanted to be, that I don’t feel like I’m useful anymore. Maybe, somehow, I never was.
Two someones.
« Oh. »
I wish I could tell you, Chiara. I wish I could tell you what I feel but I’m not even sure of that. I’ve loved you from the beginning, and I just wanted you to trust. Trust that I’d be there for you. Trust that I would stay, no matter what. Not only because I’m your djinn. Not even for the most part. Because I’m your friend, Chiara, I wanted to be your best friend, somebody you could rely on.
Looks like I failed.
But it’s okay, I swear. It’s okay that you did not tell me. I know you’re lost, I know you’re scared, and I know that you’re hiding it. I just wanted to make you feel you didn’t need to hide from me. It’s okay, everything is okay, Chiara, I will always be by your side. I’m sad, but not because of you, because of who I want to be and I very obviously failed. I’m sad because you must have felt so lonely with that big old secret laying in there, and I could not take it off your chest. I wish I could take your sorrow.
Gentle hand on your forehead, love, I smile like when you were little.
« Thanks for trusting me with this. »
I won’t say it’s a bit too late, I won’t say I wish I’d have know. I won’t say that to you, Chiara. Because that is not what I think. Others, maybe. Not me. I’m just here. And I wish that you could see it.
« I… Well, I did not expect that. »
I try to laugh but I think I’m choking.
« Do you want to… tell me more? About… them? »
It’s okay if you don’t want to. I won’t ask. I will leave you be, stay right there where you’re needing me. I just wish you would know, Chiara, that you can trust me with those things. I don’t care who you’re seeing, how many people you’re seeing, I don’t care, I’d like to meet them, sometimes, if you feel that is right. I don’t care, if you make me sad, a little bit, from time to time.
code by underratedboogeyman
- Chiara FlowersADMIN ◊ PACTE
- Personnage◊ :Pseudo / Pronoms : evy / elleMessages : 95Âge : vingt-quatre ansNombre de dés : un déRésidence : washington, la belle capitaleProfession : comédienne aux grands rêves et mille projetsFaceclaim : tati gabriellePouvoirs/capacités : tristement dépourvue de toute forme de magie ; banale humaineCrédits : (c) harleystuff pour l'avatarDisponibilité RP : disponible ★ 3/5Points : 313Joueur•se
Re: SUNFLOWER ★ barefoot in the wildest winter
Lun 14 Mar 2022 - 17:21
| | | barefoot in the wildest winter “Can't not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again I'm on waves, out being tossed Is there a line that I could just go cross?” |
She’s not 100% sure whether there was a good way or a bad way for Sol to react. Don’t sugarcoat me, I beg you. Get mad, disappointed, curious, cheeky, bemused, anything but the carefulness you use when you don’t want to take the risk to hurt me, to aggravate me. Chiara wished the djinn had it in her to punch the wall, to call her out, to break that perfect mirror and shred their little white blinders, to no avail. Her thanks left a bitter taste in Chiara’s mouth, and it took her a handful of seconds to realize it was the blood on her tongue. There was no good or bad way for Sol to react. There was just her usual sickenly kind and careful self, a perfect overdose of understanding and loyalty. “Not really” she muttered under her breath. She was getting tired of all the games she was playing on her own because Sol wouldn’t be her opponent, because she persisted in seeing the most beautiful parts in her when all she did was act and run and cheat. What a beautiful disaster we are, love. “I’m starving now, I’ll go call the deli and check on that garlic bread” The actress jumped to her feet and rubbed her stomach for good measure with a cheeky smile, suddenly much cheerier in only a snap second. Ball is in your court, if you dare play dirty. In the meantime, Chiara wouldn’t say anything, would let Sol come for her and dig for answers when she’d feel entitled to ask. She wanted her to care. But sadly, when you’re an only child of divorced parents, the way you want people to care isn’t the way you should be loved. Phone in her hand, she dialed and turned back to Sol with a glimmer in her eye. “Then we can hit the movie, I think a new Audrey Hepburn documentary just came out” I can’t wait for you to spend the entire film wondering whether I’m keeping more secrets from you.
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