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Post by Priscilla Hatter on May 15, 2016 10:11:13 GMT
kingdom of birth .
the player .
preferred player name: Rumple age: 26 how would you like to be contacted?: pm characters you already play: Rumplestiltskin, Shea Hatter, Julia Vale, Schrodinger, Viktor Frankenstein, Mara Meremoth, Anna, Princess Aquata, Mordred, Nivian
the character .
PLAY BY: Emilia Clarke
name: Priscilla Hatter age: 28 birthdate: Unknown (Orphan) kingdom of birth: Amare species: gifted human occupation: gold miner, free lance thief, novelist affiliation: good sexual orientation: Bisexual powers: pyrokinesis, can create fire with her mind (although her awareness of her skill isn't superb, often setting fire to objects by accident by staring too intensely at them), can manipulate flames (and even burn seemingly safe substances like water), skin is not flammable (no flames can scorch her), has an affinity for dragons likely because of her fiery magic
height/weight/body: Being on the slighter side, she stands at five feet and two inches. She tries to keep her posture straight; but, she can stoop slightly depending upon how badly her muscles are aching. Her footsteps are airy and whimsical matching her demeanor.
hair: She has long, wavy hair that falls midway down her back. You can tell that it's typically well brushed by the way it gleams. (And any dirt in brilliant white hair is exceptionally noticeable.) She's not one to make a fuss if it gets messed up as she's often running around outside. (At least she's moving around as best as she can suffering from mercury poisoning.) And if she worried about every stray hair she's never get anything done. Besides, appearance is always second in her mind if not third or fourth. However, she does try her best to start the day with well groomed hair. Her hair is mostly left down; but, you can typically spy one or two braids. She ranter enjoys that sort of weaving. She does brush through the tangles daily. It leaves her feeling slightly better about the world, refreshed.
eyes: Her eyes are sapphire in color. They're the type of eyes where even when they're staring directly at you, it seems like they're seeing past you rather than looking at you. People can usually tell with a quick glance in her sapphire pools that there's something not quite right about her. As warm as her eyes may appear at moments, there's an unshakeable sense of melancholy, a cold and lonely light emanates from them.
distinguishing features: Her most distinguishing feature is her odd colored hair, one of the purest white (assuming it's not dirty). Her unnaturally pale is also notable. (Sadly this pale skin is a pallor, a result of hypoxia thanks to mercury poisoning.) Although she tries to hide them with her clothes there are quite a few scars from her days as a gold miner from rock falls, tunnel collapses, and quite a few tumbles down open shafts or pits. Also her skin is always cold and clammy to the touch thanks to prolonged mercury exposure.
style: Priscilla prefers to wear lovely white gowns that still allow freedom of movement. Her fondness for white stems from the fact it compliments her hair. But also it is a color representative of purity. She knows she lost her innocence some time ago; but, she likes to pretend otherwise and soft white clothes help there. It further pleases her since it is a sharp contrast from her childhood when wearing white was horribly impractical given all the dirt and mud she dealt with. She also enjoys blue dresses because they bring out the color in her eyes. Even when her clothes become soiled (from grass stains or other substances) and riddled with holes she has an exceptionally difficult time replacing them. As a child you had to make your one or perhaps two outfits last. She knows that now it's an irrational fear that there won't be a replacement: but, she can't shake it all the same, especially since the clothes are much finer than what she was used to as a little girl.
She has the uncanny ability to see past transformation spells. It's not as though she can literally see the individual underneath the galmor. But she just seems to know this person is not the one that is being projected. Similarly if someone is not human, as much as they may disguise themselves as one, she will not be fooled. When questioned about how she knows she answers with as "Isn't it obvious?". She's not being snide. Just to her it intuitively is. When pressed she might mention something odd in the eyes or comment on the sound their footsteps make against the gravel.
Affinity for Animals:
As much as she does not sync with people, she has an innate understanding of animals, especially dragons. She cannot directly or telepathically communicate with animals. But she typically comprehends their basic desires and emotional states. They listen to her far better than most people. Her voice tends to sooth and she can typically touch them even when they're in worked up states.
One of the advantages of being out of tune with the rest of the world is that thinking outside the box is second nature to her. She's one who is simply unaware of the box's presence to begin with. People might often turn and stare and even leave their mouths gaping at her antics; but, when you want a unique perspective and a fresh idea there's no one better to turn to. Where people see impassible brick walls she merely sees a quaint little stone that must be leapt over. Given just a small increment of time she'll surely find a way to soar above it. Although likely others won't be so convinced of the soundness of said plan. Still different need not mean bad. Where others are left fumbling for purchase, she picks her path and holds firm. She trusts her ideas and follows through.
While Priscilla might not be the best at running the business aspect of thieving, few can match her skill with grabbing rare artifacts and making a clean getaway. She has impressively quick reflexes for picking locks and dodging to the left or right to avoid those pesky sorcery traps or even the more mundane ones involving weights. Her speed is nothing to thumb your nose at either. She can take off like a rocket at a moment's notice. Thanks to mercury poising she can't hold this break neck pace for extended periods of time; but, it is typically enough to save her skin when she's gotten herself into a rather fine mess. And climbing and jumping are her best friends assuming her mercury poisoning isn't horribly acting up. Again she cannot maintain those positions for long; but, short bursts tend to be alright if it's not a worst moment.
It's not a skill you would expect a benevolent person to have; but, she is at least slightly shady given her thieving work. And not all poisons need be lethal. It depends on the substance and the dose. One can concoct something to make someone just a little sick for a bit, to distract them. She's extremely fond of poisons and their accompanying antidotes. She can collect the proper herbs and substances to craft the poisons herself as well as the proper antidotes. And she's exceptionally skilled at slipping substances into people's drinks without notice. Also when someone has been poisoned she can typically recognize the type.
As a miner, given just one pair of clothes it was necessary to make it last. Replacements weren't made readily available. And you would be punished severely for "not taking care of your things" if you had to beg for another outfit. So she became a pro at patch jobs. Originally they weren't pretty to look at; but, they got the job done. Later she helped her husband make clothes and her needlework further improved. He taught her the theory of hat making although he refused to let her help and risk exposing her to more mercury chemicals. However, after she was trapped in Wonderland, prisoner to the sadistic March Hare, she was forced to make countless hats for him, typically including hides or other parts (like ears) from the animals he hunted much to her dismay. As his captor for seven years, her mercury poisoning significantly worsened; but, her needlework vastly improved. He was quite picky when it came to his hats.
"Don't play with fire." That expression has never held any weight with Priscilla. Thanks to her magic, nothing was more natural. It took some time before she realized what she was doing; but, she was always drawn to the flames. True, even now her control isn't perfect. If she fixates on something too intensely she can set it alight. But in a pinch, it is most convenient to be able to raze anything to the ground. As a thief it was often times useful to put a barrier of flames between her and guards. And since her skin won't burn she doesn't have to be too worried about magical mishaps. (Although she still has to worry about buildings she'd like to keep standing and other people. Putting out fires is much harder and far less intrinsic than starting them.)
Her steps are naturally light; and, when she doesn't wish to be noticed she can move as soundlessly as any spirit. She's the type who can jump from the highest branch of the tallest tree with the merest rustling of leaves being the only indicator that such an action occurred. Even in the dark she's not the sort to stumble over roots or stones even in new terrain. She can sneak up directly behind someone with them none the wiser. Sometimes this is intentional as with her thief line of work. Sometimes she wishes to surprise someone (pleasantly of course)! Sometimes it's a legitimate accident and she's simply accustomed to soft footsteps.
Peculiar Breed of Observation:
While Priscilla is the type to overlook the glaringly obvious details like what time it is or what street she's on, she notices obscure details that few pick up on. She can pinpoint that soft hum in the background (assuming her ears aren't ringing) and even tell you what caused it. She's noticed that strange insect that doesn't belong. She can tell you specifically what direction the wind's blowing and where due east is. Just as she can tell what's out of place, she can tell you that subtle thing that's missing, the chirp of crickets or cry of birds.
Priscilla cannot cook to save her life. She's far more likely to set fire to the building and has done so on many occasions. In her Storybrooke home thanks to her more sensible husband fire hydrants are constant fixtures. She wants nothing more than to cook delicious food for her family; but, it just always goes wrong. She focuses too hard and in her excitement out come the flames. But this has never deterred her from attempting. She always insists that practice makes perfect; and, one day she will get it right.
Inability to Sync With Others:
Priscilla thinks on a completely different wavelength than those around her regardless of the world. (Given her exploits this can be stated with supreme confidence.) Even her dear husband can understand her slightly less than half the time. She's one odd bird who can never comprehend how she comes off to others. Being an empathetic individual she can typically read others' emotions. However, she cannot fathom what has caused their frightened or upset feelings. She's the type who without warning when she's feeling stronger will climb a building and tap on the window with a rusty pair of scissors rather than ring the doorbell. She'll go around the neighborhood at unreasonable hours asking people if they couldn't spare any broken pieces of glass. She'll dance under the moon with scissors, snipping blades of grass. She'll cut out different lines from newspaper clipping and books and glue them together to make incomprehensible messages and pictures. She'll make the most terrifying hats and not understand why others find them disturbing. She will find people burying a corpse and politely point out that they're doing it wrong and proceed to give them advice on how to fix their error. And if said people proceed to chase her, she'll think it's some lovely game where she just doesn't quite grasp the rules yet.
Priscilla was indoctrinated into the worst type of mining as a child, gold mining. Gold mining stands out from other forms of small-scale mining for the additional grave hazard of mixing mercury with crushed ore or sediments to separate out the gold. While Priscilla quickly realized the special danger of mercury exposure given what happened to some of her fellow orphans, she felt powerless to improve her situation. It might be possible to convince some of the other kids to do more of that sort of work (although she'd hardly be safe being close to the toxins and the mines themselves were often filled with toxic gases she couldn't help but breathe in), it would be a matter of sacrificing her heart for her health. She simply hoped for better fortune, to be assigned less often to separation duty. A wish was harmless. It couldn't influence things one way or the other. And still she felt guilty for her thoughts, as though they were wicked. When it was her turn to work with the Mercury she never tried to get out of it and mercury poisoning was the result. Her symptoms include nervousness/anxiety, maniac depression, mood swings, lethargy, chronic tiredness, insomnia, restlessness, dizziness, ringing in her ears, chest pain, irregular heartbeat, asthma, chronic coughing, shallow respiration, shortness of breath, cramping, muscle aches and weaknesses, stiffness, tremors, hallucinations, memory loss both short and long term, numbness, bone loss, metalic taste, hypoxia, frequent illness given a compromised immune system, impaired sense of smell, and cold and clammy skin. Note this is not to say she constantly suffers from all symptoms.
The fact that Priscilla lived when so many fellow miners, most orphans like her, died haunts her to this day. She's never forgiven herself for being one of the few that made it out. As a result, even though she is typically good with money not having a taste for that many luxuries, donating to those less fortunate is a near addiction. If someone asks for money it is practically impossible for her to say no. And often she will donate unprompted if someone looks unwell or hungry. Doing this once or twice isn't an issue. However, the rate with which she donates can cause financial strain. Also she tends to ignore her self preservation instincts when others are suffering to try and make amends for still being one of the breathers.
Although she can push aside her sharp craving for adventure for the sake of her family, it never entirely leaves her. As a child she was trapped in mines, the awful room where gold was separated out using toxic chemicals, and the crowded room in which most of her fellow orphans slept squeezed together. She hardly got to see any new places. So when she has to stay put for too long she can get a little stir crazy. She'll pack and unpack objects without any concept of logic or order just to give herself something to do, to make the place look a bit different, pretend she's somewhere else. She'll fidget and pace even though it really is best for someone in her condition to stay put as much as possible. She simply can't be satisfied stuck anywhere for an extended period of time, being cooped inside is the worst fate of all. She longs for the smell of flowers and fresh air. (Yes, her sense of smell has been diminished but it's not as though she can smell nothing. It's just not what it once was.)
Priscilla might finally be separated from her captor: but, after being the sadistic hare's prisoner for seven years, her thoughts are not free of him. Thankfully because of her dear friend the white rabbit, not all hares remind her of the fiend. But certain rabbits can invoke that sense of terror from her, as does anything that strongly reminds her of him. His favorite brand of tea that he often had her brew for him can set her into a full blown panic attack. To this day she's still frightened he will find his way back to his favorite toy and reclaim her once more. Or worse..She's scared that she never actually escaped and this is yet another one of the hare's cruel games, making her believe that she's free so she can be crushed by the weight of despair upon realizing she never went anywhere nor will she ever be able to leave.
Tendency to Trust Bad Intuition:
It wouldn't be fair to say Priscilla has a bad sense of direction. After she's been somewhere once, she knows her way. It's exploring new terrain without a map that's a problem. She trusts her intuition to lead the way. However, consistently her intuition has left her in some rather horrible situations, bandit raids, flash floods, criminals burying bodies. And still she almost always follows that soft little voice that says "this way".
It's amazing this woman does not have scurvy (which is the absolute last thing she needs with her health problems). She's more likely to eat fruits than vegetables; but, she doesn't eat nearly enough of those either. Fruit flavored pastries she'll happily devour. Give her an orange and maybe she'll get around to it. As for vegetables you may as well forget it. Her favorite is lima beans; but, even there she won't go out of her way to eat them. And someone with her bone loss should drink copious amounts of calcium. And yet..She doesn't. She likes milk well enough, especially in tea. Although she does prefer cream to milk. She would just rather drink tea and coffee than milk. Simply put, her nutrition is appalling.
Unfortunately for Priscilla, she has an athletic spirit. She would love nothing more than to constantly run, climb, and jump. However, given the state of her body that's not feasible. Still, she pushes herself far more than she should because of the constant urge to move and be active. She does know better. But she just can't always keep herself from going too far. Bars need not be tangible.
Even before she understood her magic, she loved things hot, scalding even. She never feared flames but took comfort from them. The feeling of a warm body could always soothe her no matter how terrible her day had been. Of course a hot bath wasn't a luxury orphans could afford. But if you were daring enough you could grab a coal as the fire died to give you a little extra warmth.
Sweet Foods & Beverages:
Priscilla has a monster sweet tooth. Magic must be the reason she's not obese. Anyone who watches her is bound to wonder where she puts the weight. If she's so inclined she can eat a whole cake herself. (Even she'll get full at that point no matter how delicious it is.) When it comes to tea, a small cup will have no less than six sugar cubes stirred within it.
As one with a vivid imagination, it should hardly come as a surprise that she adores stories. She'd invent stories in her head to help her get through some cruel days in her childhood and in Wonderland as well as during the curse. She drew strength from fictional characters' triumphs. Stories were and are fuel for the soul. Hope is never so profound as when portrayed through a story.
You will never meet another so obsessed with scissors. They're more than simple cutting tools. In fact, she would be horrified to hear the word tool used to describe them. To her they are akin to friends and she calls them such. Each has its own story. And no she sees nothing wrong with rusted scissors. If she finds them in good condition she'll try to keep them that way. She'll polish them until they gleam. She'll sharpen them until a little poke is sure to draw blood. But if she finds a rusty pair, she won't despair. She believes it shows character.
Games like stories are a reprieve from the anguish and dull monotony that is any world. Card games, running games, puzzle games, Priscilla loves them all. (Of course she has her favorites as she isn't a robot.) She's extremely competitive but not a sore loser. She just wants to give each game her all. It's the most fun that way!
X marks the spot! It doesn't need to be silver or gold! But as a thief she's stolen some precious treasures. But before you can take them, you must figure out where they are located. And searching is half the fun for Priscilla. Treasures she's interested in aren't buried in the ground. (It would take far too much effort to search. And all the digging would just upset her, reminding her of her time in the mines.) Still, she has to pick a target and hunt it down! She's very passionate about that part. (It hopefully makes up for her less than superb business sense.)
Warm things comfort her; and, the sight of flames in particular has the power to lift her spirits. So she very much likes to burn candles and watch the flames dance. Although her sense of smell has been impaired she still likes scented candled. She can smell just not as well as she once could. As soon as a candle has been burned past the point of recognition it is replaced. Now that money isn't an issue, she has a constant supply of them.
As highly empathetic individual, she has a difficult time stomaching any sort of cruelty whether it be to animals or people. This is not to say she's a naive woman. Her time in the mines made sure she grew up quickly. The world is a cruel place. She understands that. But it is still something that upsets her.
Priscilla is all too used to feeling helpless, to being deprived of any meaningful sense of choice. As an orphan gold miner, there was nothing she could choose for herself. What single outfit she wore, when she rose and slept, where she dug, when she separated gold from dirt and sediment, all that was decided for her, every aspect of her life controlled. The stories she derived were her only sense of freedom. And when she was the March Hare's prisoner, she was entirely at his mercy, bound to his will. She values choice and hates being reminded of those dark days.
Priscilla isn't quite at the level of claustrophobic; but, she immensely dislikes enclosed spaces. She's suffered through one too many tunnel collapses. She can force herself to squeeze through tight spaces when necessary (which it often is for thieving). But she can have a bit of difficulty breathing regularly there. She always fears some sort of collapse or getting stuck. The curse did not help with these fears when she was trapped in a cell, rarely allowed out.
Yes, there is a right and wrong way to dispose of bodies. Gold mining was some of the dangerous work for children orphans. Many of them fell. And no, money would not be wasted taking good care of those without families. Orphans like Priscilla tended to be the ones who took care of those children who left this world. And when it was your turn to bury a body, you were still expected to get all your normal work done. So yes, Prisciall became eerily efficient a burying the dead. So it bothers her when people are going the slow route or using some method that won't keep said body buried.
Priscilla gets lonely easily. She doesn't need constant contact with the outside world. But she needs a few good conversations now and then. And yes, good conversations. She was horribly isolated as the March Hare's prisoner, having few interactions with anyone outside him. And as he was quite the sadistic creature, he did not meet the quota to curb her loneliness.
Not syncing well with others, she makes absolutely terrifying presents without realizing it. But she puts her whole heart into everything she does. So of course it hurts when someone turns away that sculpture of a decapitated head or the hat with maggots that actually look like they are alive and moving, chewing. A polite "no thank you" won't ease her upset state. She might not read the reason behind people's emotions so well; but, she can typically read the emotions themselves. The rejections are always recognized for what they are.
Hard or Stale Pastries:
As terrible a cook as she is, Priscilla is quite picky about her pastries. She wants them soft and fluffy; and, they must absolutely be fresh. If it's only slightly hard she's willing to dunk said pastries in her tea or coffee to soften them up. They're still not as good as the ones that nearly crumble in your hand for freshness; but, she'll tolerate them. She'd prefer to eat pastries the day they're baked. If they must be consumed later they should be preserved well.
icing on the cake .
worst fear: After seven years of both physical and mental torture by the March Hare, she's terrified that her 'freedom' will prove nothing more than a trick, a bit of hope to bring out the ultimate flavor of despair. She's also scared her daughter won't forgive her for leaving even if it was to save her husband and that even her husband would blame her for her choice. deepest secret: To escape her fate as a gold miner, she accidentally killed a great many of her fellow workers when her magic caused a fire that could not be put out quickly. deepest desire: She's more than content being reunited with her family and getting a chance to raise new children; but, she does wish she was healthier, not plagued daily by aches and pains and even hallucinations. special skills: identifying poisons, crafting poisons and their antidotes, storytelling, stealth, thieving, lock picking, pyrokinesis, needlework (especially hat making), animal kinship, noticing the obscure
overall personality .
For someone so fair, the weight of sorrows is pressed upon her. Even as she smiled and laughs her eyes don’t typically light up the way they should, as though they’ve forgotten what true joy is supposed to feel like. She tries to take pleasure where she can find it; but, she knows it all too well. The world is one of pain and cruelty. It’s a place where important things get taken away, never to be returned. Most of life is a hellish nightmare. Dreams don’t work out. Hearts get broken. Innocent people die or worse get tortured and mutilated, brought low by life until the spark, the essence, the soul is crushed, left a wisp of itself, entirely unrecognizeable. Precious moments where everything seems to come together are few and fleeting. But one will never find that next great moment if they don’t move forward, fight with fire in their hearts to build it. And so long as Priscilla draws breath, she will drag herself onward inch by painful inch. Her will at least is hers alone. She might stumble and fall. There are times when she is too distraught to eat or sleep or even breathe more than a few words. But despair musn’t permanently claim her even if the melancholy never leaves her.
She is an empathetic soul who always choose additional hardships to help someone in need. When she thought her husband was in trouble the only reason she thought twice about going was because of their dear daughter Grace. It was possible neither of them would return and she’d be left an orphan. The thought coated her heart in ice. But even there she couldn’t hesitate long. She had the power to save her husband. She must try. And for her effort, she nearly died and was then imprisoned for seven years. But if she had to do it all over again, she’d make the same choice. She’d rather suffer than him. She’s that sort of person. Even when he was a stranger, she helped him with the king’s guards even though he was heavy to drag out the window; and, it was less likely she could get away.
Priscilla is as quirky as they come. Eccentric just doesn’t cover how out of sync she is with whatever world she resides in. She thinks on a different wavelength and can never reconcile the difference. She’ll comprehend that someone is frightened or baffled but can’t for the life of her understand what she did to make them feel that way. Her actions always make perfect sense to her so when people question them, she rarely explain in a way which satisfies. It’s only natural that she’s covering the stones by the shore with leftover lamb’s blood. (And no she didn’t kill the lamb! But why waste good material?!)
She is an athlete at heart. Her body might be falling apart rather quickly given years of mercury poisoning. And treatment was further delayed thanks to pregnancy. Still, she wants to run, jump, climb, frolic, be in perpetual motion. To this day, wanderlust grips her soul. She wishes to see new lands, have fresh adventures, live her own glimmering stories. Stories are meant to be inspiration for reality, at least in her mind. (And yes, as good as she is at telling them, changing her voice for each character, she’s equally good at writing them.)
family ties .
residence: Storybrooke, Maine, Jefferson's Mansion children: Grace Lyn Hatter, 11, human, daughter Shea Hatter, 16, seer, adopted daughter (Season two) Ethan Hatter, Six Months, human, son (Season three) Vincent Hatter, six Months, human, son (Season three) Alice Kingsley, daughter figure partner: Jefferson Hatter, human, husband mother: unknown father: unknown siblings: unknown other important relatives: unknown
Once upon a time there was a little girl. Perhaps she was a precious treasure and affection was showered upon her as though she were a princess. Maybe she was the apple of her parents' eyes and when she opened her mouth wailing because of some infant sorrow she need not wait more than a heartbeat before she was greeted with a warm hug and soft words. Perhaps she knew nothing but the fiercest devotion and the most tender care. She likes to imagine it was so. But she cannot say. Her earliest days are an utter mystery to her.
Her first memories are of dirt and mud, rocks and shovels and heavy bags she must all. She recalls with startling clarity staring up at the shovel head that was bigger than her face. Even the staff was taller than her. But she was expected to do more than carry it. She was meant to dig with it.
One of her first lessons was that she and everyone she worked with was expendable. Children and orphans especially were a cheap source of labor. And naturally she wasn't paid beyond her two measly meals a day and the roof over her head.
She slept squeezed in between a mass of children in a tiny room. There were no beds. Even cots were missing. There were a few scraps of leftover cloth hastily stitched together that constituted as blankets. And no they weren't all even. Some were slightly bigger. Some were slightly softer. And some seemed like they just might last a little longer. There were fights. Priscilla didn't participate. She didn't want to get hurt or worse hurt someone else over something like that. Appreciating warmth, she could hardly say the blanket matter was trivial. And sleep was especially important to sustain them through the grueling hours in the mines not to mention what came afterwards, hauling their finds back and separating the gold from the sediment. They rose at dawn's first light and worked late into the night. Priscilla had difficulty keeping her eyes open when she dragged her feet back to the room they all shared. She couldn't imagine brawling after a long day's work. She accepted whatever blanket was left over and used her skill at making due.
Things were hard no doubt. But her imagination was her salvation. She would pretend she was on some incredible adventure. She had to slay the banshee or find the cure for some horrible poison to save the princess. And while she traveled well..The ground was rough and her nights lonely. Adventures weren't meant to be comfortable.
Some might find it strange how achingly lonely Priscilla was when she was constantly surrounded by others. She barely got a moment to herself. But one can be alone even in a crowd. And there was little sense of unity among workers. They understood their work was hazardous. Any day could easily be their last. And if you were attached to one who fell..Well then..That was all the worse for you. And there were arguments even brawls about who got what work. Yes, they were assigned their specific jobs and locations for the day by the boss. But well there could be 'negotiations' and 'transfers'. And it was much harder to switch to the more beneficial task if you cared about those around you, those you were possibly sending off to their deaths deeper in the mine or on more shaky ground. And if you reported a fellow worker breaking some rule, sneaking out early or trying to smuggle some gold for their selves, you were rewarded, a trifle but a world of difference to those orphans who had so little. Perhaps you got an extra piece of stale bread. Or maybe you were actually entitled to some mildly warm water. The small luxuries were enough to make those who should be united in misery spy on one another.
Priscilla didn't participate in such negotiations. She would not bully others into prize positions. But nor would she allow a more favorable job if it was given to her to fall into another's hands. They all suffered and there was no reason she should not be entitled to some better days.
Her gentle heart prevented her from exchanging worse jobs. If she so chose, she could have protected herself a little. Far more important than food for the body was nourishment for the soul. Priscilla came to recognize and loathe that glassy look in the eyes, the telltale sign that the will was spent. Once people ceased to believe in something better, a brighter tomorrow it wasn't long before their body too failed them and they keeled over. And imagination, stories, that was the birth of dreams and promise. Priscilla might be an odd little dove; but, none could spin better tales than her. She could have traded her words for great things (great in a gold miner's world anyways). But that was not in her nature. Her gifts were given freely.
She was an observant sort. Although she didn't understand the why of it, she knew that those who spent the most time separating gold from sediment were the worst off, those who deteriorated fastest, and wound up dead soonest. But when it was her turn, she complied all the same. She always wished the job would fall to someone else. And yes she felt wicked for her thoughts as much as she was sure the desire itself would alter nothing. But at the very least she would not coerce those more ignorant or desperate for hope to take her place.
Of course the fumes themselves caused damage. Being in close proximity to mercury was enough for the poison to ensnare and work it's menace. But being closer was still better than directly touching.
Priscilla brought stories and songs to those around her, the best light her fellow orphans could hope for in that bleak world. And yes, she was typicalky the only one who would sing and hum as she was mining, hauling, and separating. Although sometimes her warm voice would inspire others to take up the tune even if the words made no sense.
Her heart was heavy and filled with melancholy. But she was determined to get out. And while she was stuck, she would make the best of a grim situation. She'd encourage others to think of themselves as treasure hunters. "We are searching for gold!" And for those who would indulge her, there were games to be had even in the mines. There was the obvious see who could bring the most gold back game. And there was the more obscure who could spot various insects and animals first.
Her eyes were often weary; but, a smile however forlorn often graced her lips. She was a fighter; and, she would make it. This world of pain and expensibility would not be hers forever.
Her obsession with poisons started young. Imagination had to come from somewhere. And since her tales and daydreams of grand adventures often involved poisons, she was determined to learn about them to do them justice. Orphans must of course go outside where there was less supervision to mine. (But naturalky hell on earth would await them if they did not return with what was considered a satisfactory amount of gold.) But when Priscilla thought she'd scraped away with an adequate amount early, she'd slip away to study plants. Of course there was only so much she could learn on her own. She was determined to find a teacher. That was how her thieving days began, stealing from the boss. She understood all too well that nothing in this world is free. A teacher would want payment. She planned on providing that.
It was dangerous to take from the boss but she did, a small piece at a time. There were two things she desired to learn. Poisons and literacy.
When she sneaked into town she asked around to see who was the best to approach if you wanted someone poisoned. Respectable people wouldn't discuss it but eventually she found the right circles. There was one known as Nightshade who was said to be able to secure any poison known to man and even some mystery ones.
It wasn't simple but she managed to pass along a message (orally of course) and set up an meeting. She explained what she wanted and that she was able to pay in gold. Intrigued by her persistence and odd wish he was willing to take her on as an apprentice of sorts on two conditions. One, she must pay. He knew he couldn’t expect that much gold from her lest she expose her crimes. But he wanted something. And the second was that she must never be late for a lesson. She immediately agreed.
It wasn’t easy managing lessons with all the work she had to do as a gold miner. But somehow she always made her appointments, enthusiasm belying her fatigue. That was every time but one. She was delayed, being assigned gold sifting (separating it with mercury) rather than digging in the mines. She still planned on slipping away but the boss stopped by, doing one of his terrifying inspections. In her panic that she’d be late for a lesson and lose them forever, her magic exploded. That was the day she understood her powers for what they were. Before she’d just thought she was fond of flames because of the warmth and that the weird things that happened around her were accidents. This lesson was a costly one. The building was rased to the ground; and, she was the only one to escape given her immunity to fire. Her best friend perished in the flames, having not been assigned to the mines at that time.
Not knowing what else to do, she fled to Nightshade. He agreed to give her lodgings, food, and continued lessons on the condition that she stole for him. He thought she showed promise as a thief given what she’d managed so far. And Nightshade’s interests extended beyond poisons. Again Priscilla agreed. It had to be better than the mines. And after what she’d done, she didn’t feel she could go back. (Although she had been trying to get out her whole life she felt guilty escaping this way.)
Her work for Nightshade came to an end when she met her future husband Jefferson. They were both in Camelot intent on stealing the king’s treasures. The guards almost caught them; but, Priscilla didn’t think of leaving behind the stranger for a second. He could be executed for such thievery. Being used to lugging heavy bags around, she managed to haul him out the window with her. Although she was greatly winded afterwards. Mercury poisoning had taken quite a toll on her by this point.
Then Jefferson offered to take her inside his hat to another world. Always craving adventure, she didn’t need to be asked twice. She gave a hearty yes and was whisked away. They had many thieving escapades. They fell in love and were wed. Not long after Priscilla became pregnant with a daughter they’d name Grace. Fearing that their dangerous work would leave their daughter an orphan, knowing the terrors that could easily await her if that was the case, they quit the thief work. But four years their funds had dwindled. With taxes coming due Jefferson spoke to Priscilla about a job. If they could retrieve the clock of evermore, they would be set for a while. But Priscilla deemed it too risky. She could find another way. She just needed some time. Unfortunately Jefferson didn’t give it to her. In his impatience, he went to Wonderland alone.
Priscilla waited a day. But when he didn’t return she knew something had gone wrong. She called upon her friend the white rabbit to help. He brought her to Wonderland once more and agreed to take her and her husband back home. She freed her husband from the March Hare. Things fell apart after they retrieved his hat. As they fled an arrow from one of the guards pierced her heart. Jefferson didn’t want to leave her. He was adamant they could find healers to save her. When she pointed out there wasn’t enough time, he spoke the madness of retrieving the clock of evermore to give them more time, enough to preserve her. But if he went back she knew he’d be killed. Accepting her death as inevitable, she made him promise to return to their sweet little girl. Priscilla and Jefferson had chosen this life, Grace hadn’t. She wouldn’t understand if her parents never came back. And they couldn’t leave her an orphan to suffer the world’s countless cruelties. In the end she convinced him. He went into the hat alone.
Only it wasn’t the end for her. The March Hare used the clock of evermore to save her so that the sadistic creature might have a new tea party guest, a fresh plaything. She was trapped as his servant and toy for 7 years during which her mercury poisoning worsened profoundly. The March Hare wass quite fond of hats and demanded she make them for him. Her needlework was good; but, she had no direct experience with hat making. So originally she had to attempt the same hat again and again until he was satisfied. And even when she improved to the level of mastery, he was vicious and picky. Day in and day out she toiled to make his hats.
She saw Jefferson in Wonderland at several of the March Hare’s tea parties; but, she knew it couldn’t be him just more hallucinations. Her husband had promised he’d return to Grace. So either he had or he was dead. Either way, he couldn’t be here.
Priscilla likely would have entirely lost her mind for grief if it wasn’t for Alice Kingsley, one of the few bright points in the hell that was her life. Priscilla showered her with the affection of a mother, being reminded a little of her daughter and needing that sort of attachment. To this day, she thinks of Alice as her daughter. (She taught her many things, some she likely shouldn’t have.) She always wishes for her happiness.
Three months before she curse gripped Wonderland, ripping people away, she became pregnant. Her sense of time was distorted given her grief, the clock of evermore which the Hare would still on occasion use on her, and her hallucinations which skewed everything. So she was entirely ignorant of the boys that slowly but surely grew inside her belly. And why should she suspect the truth? In her mind, her husband was sadly a delusion. No life could stem from their warmth.
During the curse she believed herself to be Ava Everil, a novelist who was confined to the psyche ward after her husband and little girl were killed in a drunk driving accident, unable to process the grief and accept that the twins growing inside her would grow up without a father. Twenty eight years later the curse broke; but, she was forgotten in the psyche ward. Eventually her husband learned from Viktor about her existence. She was taken home so they could be a family with their little girl again, with a new addition, a seer named Shea. Priscilla took to Shea immediately and loved her like she was her own flesh and blood. She just hoped that this time, nothing would fall apart and they could stay a proper family forever.
Post by ALICE KINGSLEY on May 20, 2016 16:52:52 GMT
Congratulations! Welcome to Mirror, Mirror!
Now that you're accepted, you can start causing trouble for your characters & plotting & shipping! To help you get started you can check out our brainstorming board, where you'll find wanted ads & plot pages! You also might find our timeline & thread tracker to be helpful in finding open threads & seeing where they fall in time. If you're trying to figure out who plays who you can take a peek at the cast of characters.
to help you get started head over to the starter kit and you can see all of the different suggestions and important links on how to get plotting here at MM!
We've also got fun tumblr & twitter pages you can follow with character updates, ships, fandom following, writing & role-play blog posts.
Once again, welcome and happy plotting!
Aug 27, 2016 22:54:16 GMT
Sorry I disappeared for a while! Anastasia is officially done and I am back, had some IRL mishaps but hope to write with all of you guys soon <3.
Aug 20, 2016 21:00:20 GMT
Apologies to all members, for once again going off the grid. The admins here are still very much invested in keeping this site alive, but sometimes our real lives serve as speed bumps on the road toward that goal. Thank you all for being patient with us.
Jul 26, 2016 15:52:20 GMT
...is this even happening?
Jul 2, 2016 19:56:24 GMT
I'm so excited to see this alive! Hoping my app will be reviewed and, fingers crossed, accepted now! ( Though it has been archived. )
Jun 18, 2016 16:15:05 GMT
Hey guys Ariel here, Thursday night a bad storm knocked my power out and as I Saturday, today, I still don't have any!! I'm not ignoring the site, I just don't have a computer to use yet. As soon as I get power, I will be back!
Jun 17, 2016 19:39:26 GMT
Apologies to all for being so MIA, had a lot going on work wise and with real life this month, the biggest being having my wisdom teeth removed earlier this week. BUT I AM BACK <3
Jun 14, 2016 18:03:21 GMT
All done with my app Lovelies <3
Jun 7, 2016 1:46:17 GMT
hey guys! we're slowly but surely still working on updates. thanks for your patience! we love you!
Jun 2, 2016 1:36:18 GMT
Open thread to anyone that would show up at the snow's residence here
May 19, 2016 20:14:35 GMT
Just a note to all members: Snow will be out of town from Tomorrow morning until Monday afternoon. If anyone has any questions, or needs any help during that time, please direct your concerns to myself and the other staff members! Thank you <3
May 16, 2016 23:23:41 GMT
If you are ready and want to begin writing - the RP boards are open!
May 16, 2016 20:05:07 GMT
Today is Monday guys!!! Please remember it is the last day to reclaim any characters that you are planning on keeping!! Thank you all <3
May 13, 2016 14:35:07 GMT
as you guys are retooling your apps - know that we are canon seasons 1-3, and everything after that can be up to you. you can stick to canon, or go off script - but remember to work with the folks who have connections to your characters! <3
May 13, 2016 13:45:26 GMT
all apps have been archived. please repost the apps of characters you are keeping. pm me with any questions. <3
May 13, 2016 13:16:38 GMT
I just wanna say how very excited I am to see so many of you guys staying and sticking with us <3
May 13, 2016 12:39:46 GMT
don't worry - your plot pages are not deleted, they have been archived, and you will be able to access them once the RP boards are opened back up. I promise nothing has been removed completely - you will have access to all of your posts and plot pages. <3
May 12, 2016 20:37:28 GMT
Hey everybody, I am the admin formerly known as Belle, just so you all know <3
May 12, 2016 20:08:51 GMT
you guys can reply at this link, to let us know which characters & accounts you're keeping! <3
May 12, 2016 18:26:29 GMT
Is there a place to say "yes, I want to keep my character?
May 8, 2016 3:42:44 GMT
don't panic - the rp boards are hidden to staff only for now, as we move everything to the archives and work to restart the game. you will not loose any old work, but we will be wiping the slate clean.