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miraruinada · 3 years ago

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HYMN FOR AN AVERAGE MAN.

Dora wondered what to make of the poster held in her hand. The bold, large font had caught her attention as she made her daily stroll through the lovely little park beside her abode. There it was, plastered on a lamp post right front and center of anyone of average height’s eye level. She glanced at it when she passed by at first, but one word struck her attention when she reversed course to actually read it. ‘NOBILITY’ it read. And everything else it said made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She ripped the paper right off the lamp post and read it over. She immediately rushed home and made a call to all her friends and acquaintances whom the poster would concern. Sure enough, throughout many of the major districts of the city, all these exact same posters had popped up almost overnight. Almost to the hundreds.

To her observant eye, she could make out a few key details as to the story behind these posters: the pulp was very obviously cheaply made, out of new or recycled newsprint. The quality of the ink and how offset the lettering was meant the posters were all printed en masse with the only requisite of legibility and speed to production. There were pocks in the letters, little sections of ink that proved the press was handled roughly and quickly. Proof that these posters were made in quick response towards some event. The signature on the poster, however...

The door to her study opened. The poster was left back on the desk among the piles of books illuminated under the large desk lamp. Under the frame came a shock of stark white hair, bandaged knuckles and lanky, tall frame. A face in a permanent scowl.

“Finally ready to tell me why you came back covered in blood that day when all you were doing was taking a walk?” Dora asked.

“Told ya, some guy I knew.” The man responds curtly.

“I understand the Otomi are famous for viewing fights as a brotherly form of communion, but you were practically showered in blood. Was it even a fair fight?”

“Lettin’ off steam.”

“It wasn’t a friend, I assume?”

“Enemy.”

“Then I suppose it’s alright. Besides that, we have something urgent that’s come up.”

Isidora Gallo, the heiress to the Gallo fiefdom of Districts 3, 4, 17, 31, and 77, of which one was the Mercado Mayor, who was next in line to hold seat in the Noble Council, fancied herself a bit of an investigator in her private time. Perhaps it was her fascination with the daily lives of the commoners under her domain. Perhaps it was all the ‘Colette’ radio shows she listened to as a kid. In any case, the six foot five woman loved to dress in what many would call a costume of what a rich person believed a poor person wore.

A regular shirt, a regular pair of black slacks, a regular tie, a regular overcoat, a regular hat. But all of it too clean, made of cloth of too high quality, personally tailored for her to too attentive of a degree, with gold threads decorating the piping, and black leather miner’s boots polished to an immaculate degree. It all spelled out that she hadn’t set foot in a factory all her life.

“Actually, let’s attend to that at a later time,” she said to her retainer, salvaged from the grave of the last Palace Guard. As urgent as this poster might have been, she felt she had all the time in the world.

“Would you tell me how that went down? With that enemy of yours when I went to visit a dear friend at that commoner’s university. I would love to hear all about it. Every bloody detail, please.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Anger in the shaman. She pressed her hand against the paper talisman. The letters glowed an unearthly hue and burned away, leaving a simple piece of paper on the front of the door. It was a warding charm. Only those specifically looking for this door, knowing exactly what was behind it, would be able to find it.

She slammed the door hard behind her, then flicked the lights on to a room filled with bubbling cauldrons, glass tubes and pitches and containers filled with foreign liquids, and blackboards riddled with random and obscure equations and formulas, all rattling and clinking at how hard the door slammed.

The danger of causing something to break tempered her anger only slightly. At best, she would stop being physical with her frustration, opting to start cursing up a storm this way and that. At the top of her lungs, various expletives rained down like fire through the wide room, echoing and reverbing like a phantom chant.

A ‘butler’ sat in the far corner of the room. Far enough that the light of the room barely reached, making her seem a fixture of the room rather than a person occupying it. She was unmoving, her hands flat on her lap. Her head bowed down low.

If one peered up at her from below, they would find she was sobbing quietly.

_____________________________________________________________________

“Shit,” he says.

Akachi didn’t expect anything to start so soon. In the back of his mind, he knows it’s always been only a matter of time. He takes another sip of his coffee and places it back on the saucer. On the table before him is a piece of paper.

Did the ghost of Otxo write this one, too?

“You’re just going to mock me for saying that one time, aren’t you? Not everything has the same insight that Otxo’s writing had about the miserable conditions on earth. That man was a prophet, a soothsayer, a true mind of our times.”

Are you going to confess your crush on him now?

“They did say he was a casanova...”

He looks at the signature that the piece of paper was underscored with. A smile spreads on his lips. Despite the fear. Despite the absolute misery that this paper was brought to him by, he smiles knowing this piece of paper was like a ticket into what he’d been looking for all his time in this wretched city of lumpen and borgie.

You’re thinking you can trace the signature by its handwriting to that person you’ve been looking for, aren’t you?

“How do you know?”

I am in your mind, after all.

In Cafe Cotorro, Akachi speaks to the ‘voice of the city’ with an air of excitement.

“I know of this detective that could help me.”

This will surely get interesting.

_____________________________________________________________________

TO THE GRACIOUS

NOBILITY.

ALL WE ASKED OF YOU

WAS TO HEAR OUR PLEAS.

NOW THAT YOU’RE PLEASED WITH YOURSELF

MEETING OUR CRIES WITH VIOLENCE.

THIS SILENCE THAT FOLLOWS WILL SURELY UNNERVE YOU.

WE NO LONGER ASK FOR COMPASSION FROM YOU.

WE NO LONGER FIND COMPASSION FOR YOU.

YOU SHALL HIDE YOUR FACE

WHEN OUR TIME COMES.

WE WILL HOLD NO REMORSE

FOR THE TERROR.

-Arador.

_____________________________________________________________________

Deep in the archives of the Libreria Central of the Universidad Cultural Autonoma de Topaxi.

There is a caged bird that might one day sing the songs that bring about the return.

In front of the door to the room holding her prisoner, the captive princess locked in the evil king’s tower, was a guard draped in rags smoking a pipe of tobacco. The smoke floats out the bowl and into the cloud covering the room like the mist before a holy mountain.

The guard glances up at the approaching figures, a scowl on her face.

Her hand on the Nitchi Diyin. She slowly rises to meet them, without a word spoken.

No sound in the room.

#topaxi event 1 #;your name is.

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madamhatter · 3 years ago

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@maledictus-maleficus

A body barely clinging to life only edges closer to its true name of a corpse - even with failing breath and tunnel vision, the path to decay is a spiraling descent. Inching closer to death slowly is a madness the Informant carries a morbid fondness for. Companion for over three years, found in the traces of shadows hanging over sullen and blank expression, this pest was better preferred than the beast of loneliness.

Fresh laundry across clotheslines wrinkles and murmurs as late summer wind blows, banners of mundaneness and remembrance altogether in the cramped alleyway. That much the informant ponders, glancing upwards, imagining how warm washed clothes shall soon be folded, sent elsewhere, or even tucked away into boxes - never to see the light of day again.

DEATH TAKES SO EASILY. PEOPLE TAKE SO CARELESSLY. A CYCLE THAT NEVER ENDS. THE OPERATORS OF GOOD AND EVIL, THOSE ARE THE SAME HANDS THAT HANG AND FOLD CLOTHES, THE SAME HANDS WHO PULLED THE TRIGGER.

Involuntary curl of their hands, eyes flock over either shoulder. A plethora of opportunities present themselves in the form of everyday and discarded items - a loose blank, scattered and opened cans, broken glass on the floor, paper bags, tattered cloth. A twitch in their index finger. Everything here can be of use, can be made for use, and can be utilized in a way to END THIS.

Even in a way that Sophie knows would reap her of any remaining sanity. Wasn’t one life more than enough...?

A sharp turn of the head, eyes narrowing - something scratching and lively nearby.

“. . . . ?”

A head of golden hair and a set of sunny bright eyes. Troublemaker.

“Goldie, are you out of yer mind!?” Abrupt concern leaves the once hollowed-eyed figure. A gloved hand immediately reaches over, placing a firm flat hand on top of the meddler. Simeon squats down to eye-level to the child.

“Where I’m going is not a place for you,” they explain curtly, “and that isn’t something up to debate. Today’s been hellish today and that isn’t place for someone like you.”

#( verse: ¿cual tu vas a ser? dentro del espejo ves; ¿algiuen más en ese cuerpo? | yni )#topaxi event 1 #maledictusmaleficus #[ MY CHILD WHY ARE YOU HERE - ]

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madamhatter · 3 years ago

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act ???. backstage your name is….. THIS IS ALREADY THE END.

“No, no, no--!”

Pleading agony across the floor, trembling form covered by exposed and bandaged arms, tucking face between folded legs. Nails dig into her scalp, forcing herself to shrink from the whistling bullets over her head. So hot and so fast they ricochet by, able to singe off her ashen hair.

The air is alive with decay and gunpowder - flowers of war burst into the sky throughout the monstrous swarm of smog clouds in all yellows and reds. Crushing and cracked bones at the ends of stocks, breaking down into fragments and pieces until they are dust. Helpless cries gutted from existence by a revolver’s mercy or sadism. Hot muzzles pressed against foreheads with failed prayers. Debris scattered about and falling ever in place to a crumbling reality that will never return.

HACK, HACK, HACK -

GET OUT. GET OUT. GET OUT.

She inhaled the inferno. Chipped nails drag against burning throat, over and over, further painting the canvas of scars with red streaks. Until she could break skin, until she could find the tissue, until she can let it all out. It won’t stop burning, it is eating me alive-

A father screaming from two stories above, storming across grief and enraged by abrupt farewell. An object crashing into the ground, static shattering through the onslaught of gunfire repeated over and over.

“Where....?” Mechanical inflex of fingers. Peeking head from between her lap. Shivering like a leaf, she turns her head one way. Her hands drag across the floor - the cold cold wooden floor - - to then her face - - cold cold sweaty face - - and then to her arms, pinching and twisting - - ugly marred things attached to her body.

She is “home.” She is “home” to the place that slaughtered countless names and faces that bear no name and place anymore in this breathing world. She has once more enter the beast willingly in spite of everything it has done and will continue to do. How stupid was I to think that I could run from this...?

Shaking hands reach to her face.

. . . . ?

Tar, black, black glistening tar web between her fingers. Her hand drags over her chin, smearing the hot discharge away. She curls in her hand and out her hand, stretching out her fingers, watching the sunlight trace over.

Her head drops to stare below.

A small puddle of black between her legs, snugged in her skirt. Trembling hands dip into the substance, thick and mud-like.

Like blood. But not.

Goldie, Sirin, Miss Tou -- are they all safe? She couldn’t imagine that either child would manage themselves trouble with the the bloodshed at the campus. If any God pitied, more less acknowledged her, she would’ve bound her hands together with her quivering prayer that was desperate for any answers. The detective, unfortunately, was a story that she knew would end up with a conclusion that would resurface more cracks and bodies than this situation needed. Natalie, Connor, the Lord....?

Stumbling to her feet is the husk of a land of no name and no history. Weak knees almsot give in as she raises to her feet. A sudden grope of the wall and she inhales deeply, before gagging and hunching forward.

More splattered ‘ink’ across the floor. The pooled ‘ink’ from her skirt running down and dripping down to the floor.

This isn’t ever going to end. Her hands ball, tremor taking over her. This isn’t going to end.

( . . . . )

“Where are you heading to? The major ways are closed. Don’t think you’ll be able to get where you need to, boy.” A elderly man attempts to spark conversation with the solemn-faced youth pacing ahead through a district that wasn’t kindly to anyone who went through. “Heading through there even during this time doesn’t do any good for you,” he encourages the other with muted concern. However, it isn’t any of his business where this one go and went - all he is another stranger. He had other important matters to attend to - like trying to find somewhere safe if there are any ideas from the council.

“.....”

“I have my way,” croaks the silver-haired stranger.

#( verse: ¿cual tu vas a ser? dentro del espejo ves; ¿algiuen más en ese cuerpo? | yni )#topaxi event 1 #ptsd tw #ptsd #self harm tw #self harm #[ and the avenging begins! ]

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maledictus-maleficus · 3 years ago

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Summertime memories. A fruitful vacation that left a myriad of smiling expressions swirling in his mind. Even the annual Rose Guard training had not been as brutal as originally intended. Perhaps her was becoming more merciful as he aged. Or perhaps the children had left him in a good mood. Such a shame the children and their chaperones and had returned a week prior. Regardless, Ayden was feeling refreshed, relaxed, and ready to tackle the next obstacle in his path as he exited his airship and headed home.

“Your Grace!” A panicked voice, right as his foot hits the main island’s soil. It wasn’t a familiar face that he knew; a concerned citizen, perhaps. He hears a guard to his left rush to intercept, but he holds up a hand to cease the motion. His brows furrow, but expression was calm. With the festivals coming up, it would not be prudent to sour the atmosphere with some barbaric--

“They, they... they’re all dead--your grace, please help us!!”

‘.. Ah,’ he thought, a cold chill filling the air. Amidst the sound of laughing children and summertime joy, he had nearly forgotten: happiness could only exist as a fleeting dream within this sickened land.

#verse; i will be waiting for you. waiting for you to call my name ☾#;the moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to | ic ☾#;drabble #topaxi event 1

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asocier · 3 years ago

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( private verse: your name is ) — welcome to topaxi: disc one.

ba mẹ ơi — đừng lo cho con, nhé?

con không sao đâu ...

con xin lỗi làm ba mẹ sợ ...

mai mốt con vè nhà, nhé?

his face — she could still see his face so clearly even now, blocks away from the laboratory, the soles of her shoes pounding against pavement and eventually earth and grass as she frantically cut through the engineering garden. her gaze was fixed ahead as she ran, but she was well aware of the crowd she was mingling with as students dashed frenziedly across campus, the fear radiating from the masses palpable to an almost suffocating degree. so they all had the same idea: they were not safe, anymore.

don’t fall behind, don’t fall behind — out of her peripheral, she could see various students begin to pass her as their pace surpassed hers, but even so, she refused to fall behind, to give up, even as her lungs burned with each sharp inhale.

you need to get out. you need to get out now.

it was chilling to hear her supervisor speak so sternly. even if leah had been confused about what was exactly transpiring outside of the academic building she so often called her secondary home, she knew her supervisor and her older colleagues were all attempting to convey to her something grave. they all witnessed something troubling through that big window overlooking campus grounds, and as she took notice of how many were starting to look at their pagers with furrowed brows and somber expressions, her own heart was starting to sink, and her stomach was starting to knot.

it was unnecessary for her supervisor to repeat himself. his words were an order, plain and simple: she had to save herself when she still had the chance to, before she was locked in with the rest of her team inside the research lab by whatever force was coming their way.

for a man who often acted so gentle and patient towards her, her supervisor’s commanding tone had taken her quite aback, but what perhaps left the longest lasting impression on the young research student was the way his face seemed to have reflected such genuine dread and concern. how startling it was, indeed, to see someone typically so unbothered by almost everything suddenly fear for what was to come.

it didn’t take long for the news to reach to administration, and consequently, the news spread to faculty and staff. xócalla station had been closed off, and armed forces were now storming onto campus by order of the imperial council. there was not enough time for administration to react accordingly to the council’s decision, nor was there any time left for anyone to truly escape off university grounds, let alone any way to. they were all trapped — but that didn’t mean they all had to be sitting ducks.

the sounds around her were overwhelming as panic-stricken students, visitors, staff, and faculty pled so desperately for their escape from the uniformed figures suddenly flooding onto campus. those who were simply trying to enjoy a walk through the park or a pastry at one of the hallmark cafes on university grounds were suddenly thrust into the mad dash to find loved ones they cared for, to find shelter they could hide in, to be out of harm’s way as fast as possible. what would happen to them if the rose guards or the topaxi advancement forces got ahold of them?

did they really want to find out?

the pounding in leah’s ears from how hard her heart was beating in her chest was deafening, and despite her best efforts to keep a leveled head during this commotion, she could feel her emotions get the best of her, shock and alarm causing tears to cloud her vision as she pushed through that final stretch to reach the familiar set of student apartment buildings. she felt a strange sense of relief to know that she wasn’t the only one who thought to take refuge in their own home, though, as she fumbled with her keys to find the correct one to unlock her door, she wondered just how smart of a decision this truly was.

the image of those red and green uniforms coupled with that of rifles continued to flash in leah’s mind as she slammed the door behind herself once she was inside her home, the brunette then rushing to close her blinds to block out whatever light was seeping into the apartment. in the darkness that soon overtook her home, the student found solace in the stillness, a stark contrast to the chaos she just experienced moments ago. shakily, she lowered herself down onto the floor and let her back rest against a wall far from the front door, her breathing ragged as she hyperventilated, those tears that had only pricked her eyes now finally falling freely down her cheeks.

the fear of being followed and found left her shaking as she hugged her knees to her chest, leah suddenly hyperaware of any noises around her. it soon dawned on her, then, that she was truly alone in her apartment: her feline companion was nowhere to be found, and that fact only seemed to have worsened her current state of mind. what was going to happen to her? to her friends? to those she had grown to care about so deeply at her time at ucat? why were the rose guards and the advancement forces suddenly intervening with university affairs? completely unaware of what had transpired in district one, leah was at a loss, though, perhaps, knowing the full truth in that instance would have been too much for her. after all, those who were murdered at the plaza were all her peers — could her heart really take that news?

whimpering softly to herself, the researcher buried her face into her knees, her attention still fixed on any sudden noises in her surroundings. for the time being, it seemed as though leah was gifted with momentary peace, though, that peace was only limited to her environment. within herself, she truly was struggling to grapple with her thoughts and emotions, internal turmoil making it difficult for her to think things through rationally. was she going to die? were they going to find her? was her family going to be alright? where were all of her friends? was she going to see her supervisor ever again?

and then, it dawned on her.

the rose guard. the rose guard was on campus.

she lifted her head from her knees slowly, and she blinked away tears that remained in her eyes. he was one of them — he was a member of the rose guard. suddenly, that image she always had of him blurred. was he aware of this? was he a part of this?

where is he now?

#topaxi event 1 #topaxi verse #( private verse ) your name is #writing;#i feel like i'm dying; tell me if it's worth it ( yunuen & leah )#miraruinada

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paratopaxi · 3 years ago

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YNI: TOPAXI, WELCOME TO DISC 1.

FIRST STORY EVENT: WON’T LAST FOREVER.

BELATED INFORMATION POST BUT!!

The way story events will work in Topaxi shall be thusly: there will be a drabble post that will explain the setting, the story that is occurring, and then an event information post will fill in on the details.

There will be a period in time where the event is ACTIVE. The roles will be able to thread with other roles about the event and what they do during it, and after the event becomes INACTIVE, there will be an event recap, with a timeline of events of all the canon occurrences summarized.

IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO THREAD WITH OTHERS TO PARTICIPATE IN EVENTS.

A drabble counts for participation; this will be included in the event recap.

ALL THREADS AND DRABBLES MUST BE TAGGED WITH THE APPROPRIATE EVENT TAG TO BE COUNTED.

____________________________________________________________

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s head into the details:

Amidst the mounting tensions between all the warring factions in Topaxi, a single event is now threatening to break the peace.

The Rose Guard and Noble Guard both committed an execution of demonstrators in the Topaxi Central District Plaza, covering up the story by saying they were detained and held in the Royal Dungeon.

The majority of the populace will buy this story, but there are many who see it for its lies: those who fight against them and those who fight for them.

In addition to this development, because some of the demonstrators were UCAT students, the Rose Guard, with help from the Topaxi Advancement Forces and Royal Mage Court, has seized the UCAT District and forced everyone under martial law.

They are not allowed to leave or enter the district without express permission from Royalty.

This will last four days.

Almost everyone in the city will be affected, either directly or indirectly, so even a simple drabble of your muse reacting to the news will be sufficient.

Thank you for reading, and WELCOME TO TOPAXI DISC 1.

EVENT TAG: #topaxi event 1

#a special bulletin

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madamhatter · 4 years ago

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act 0. observer’s notes your name is….. finding place in exile, the ramifications of war, and the scars it makes (Posttraumatic Stress Disorder)

Discussion on PTSD and its play in writing Sophie in the Topaxi verse. A general (mental) profile of the Sorceress in this setting would be included. Includes connecting recurring imagery and rifts spotted in-character writing in the Topaxi verse. (Kind of spoilers!)

READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION.

The story of displacement is a common tale for many of the Roles in Topaxi. Be it if you’re of those surviving past the war, having escaped the clutches of social prejudice of your home country, or even in rift from self-persecution, the belongingness that was once felt is adrift and lost to the ever-revolving and never-stopping world we live in. As of the latest conquest conducted by the Topaxi Advancement Forces (TAF), the continent of Gaea has had several of its countries turned territories or effaced within the past seven to eight years. It has been over two years since the invasion and TAF is on standby as the last emperor had suddenly and mysteriously passed away.

One of the last countries to be taken by the Empire was a smaller region towards the north of the continent with one coast belonging to the open sea. Such a place, which was incredibly small and considered nameless by then, was the home of the Sorceress.

In the wake of post-war life, most have found their living in making a living, while a rare few live to make a change. So ends up Sophie Hatter, the confirmed one of eight survivors from her hometown, to Topaxi with no remnants of family with her as they are located elsewhere in the Topaxi empire. (A complicated situation. It is connected to Sophie’s mother and it is the reason why Sophie is the last Hatter to leave her home country). She is holding herself together with only the clothes on her body and whatever items survived the destruction in a small messenger bag she found in the debris of her late childhood home. So, where does Sophie find herself...? What is she like now?

Similar to discussed cases in Topaxi with certain roles being exposed to and/or participating in the war, Sophie Hatter is one of those cases. She developed Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) that is comorbid with general anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and major depressive disorder. NOTE: Major depressive disorder would be a differential diagnosis. However, the symptoms exhibited by Sophie by the time she is 19, and after the course for acute stress disorder to be diagnosed (~3 days to a month), does reflects does include symptoms for “PTSD Criterion B or C symptoms” and “PTSD Criterion D or E” (p 279, DSM-5). Meaning that comorbidity is possible diagnosis or this disorder soon developed because of the traumatic event in place.

Sophie struggles with creating herself as she was before; there is an intrusion that exists within her and she is acutely aware of it and believes that she must do something about it. This nuisance she classifies, however, cannot be as easily undone as she realizes and her understanding of it is very limited, given the fact that the world of Topaxi has limited resources and research committed to psychology.

While the city-state of Topaxi can be considered modern and ahead of its time with the presence of UCAT, their progression and developments are not concurrent (yet) with the going-ons of today. While its history may not have been dedicated to vulnerable populations and certain experiences they might have faced, changes are being made with new projects, but there is still a way’s to go.

Sophie Hatter, externally, is a persistently active figure, working with the newly made community in her apartment and living day-to-day with newly found relationships. However, she remains within arms’ distance with others while providing help, working to her best to keep stability around her as much as she can. Her schedule, during the day, is extremely limited and refined by her to avoid as many external variables that may affect her and she does not want to even imagine or experience how she’ll respond.

Internally, however, Sophie Hatter is still a young woman who is grasping with the reality of what has happened to her during the invasion. Preceding the conquest, she already exhibited behaviors of a childhood that left her perception of the world altered and her self-perception low (to the point of being uncaring to her own safety). However, the inclusion of adversity from events during the war and the continuous exposure from her curse to her escape has heightened and created characteristics, responses, and coping mechanisms to handle what the mind is still attempting to fully comprehend/accept has happened.

Be note, that there are two events in the war that affected her: (1) discovering her decimated town/facing the its destruction and (2) her time before her “escape.”

Following DSM-5 and the Diagnostic Criteria for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (figure 43.10), Sophie has the following symptoms and tendencies underneath these particular categories: (Numbers denote which event is tied to what.)

A “Exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violation in one (or more) of the following ways” [EVENT]

Directly experiencing the traumatic event - (1) The travel through the desolated country and seeing first-hand accounts of dead bodies, murder, and other atrocities ; (2) Detainment and what happened during then.

Witnessing, in person, the event(s) as it occurred to others - (1) The final bombings and scourge that swept over the valley ; (2) Was forced to watch mutilation and unethical experiments

B “Presence of one (or more) of the following intrusion symptoms associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred” [INTRUSION]

Recurrent, involuntary, and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic event(s) - (1) & (2) happens a lot but does not come out through direct and perfect images of what has happened. Usually plays out that she sees the dead bodies and imagines fire around her if moving too quickly or in areas that she avoids because of stimuli that can trigger her.

Intense or prolonged psychological distress at exposure to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s) - Will enter a state of intrusive thoughts that will repeatedly tell her to leave and push her to go away. Would end up apologizing repeatedly and would begin her move as soon as possible.

Marked physiological reactions to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s) - Turns blank in the face and stares out whenever stimuli (or a combination) is in contact with her ; memories will begin resurfacing mainly through smell, but she has routinely removed herself ASAP. Flight or fight response will be immensely present and it DOES depend on her hypervigilance and whether she is moonlighting as Simeon as not. if moonlighting, the “fight” reaction WILL be used and will devolve into violence. If not, Sophie’s immediate response will be to leave and leave as soon as possible, no matter what it is she is doing. Would end up shallowly breathing like there’s smoke in the air, holding herself, and bowing her head as if avoiding seeing something before her.

C “Persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by one or both of the following” [AVOIDANCE]

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s) - (1) Continued rejection and avoidance of topics relating to latest conquests and usually avoids districts that are heavy with TAF occupation (bases, ports, air fields, etc.) ;

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s) - (2) Adamant refusal to enter or get close to medical facilities and certain smells like ammonia will make her hostile and intense (first mentioned in Headcanon Dump #1)

D “Negative alterations in cognitions and mood associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following” [NEGATIVE ALTERNATIONS IN COGNITIONS AND MOOD ASSOCIATED WITH THE EVENT]

Inability to remember an important aspect of the traumatic event(s) (typically due to dissociative amnesia and not to other factors such as head injury, alcohol, or drugs) - Confirmed for dissociative amnesia where the events of (1) and (2) meld together and the timeline is mixed together ; there are very specific images that do not reflect the real scene or are reduced from the original signifier (I.E., the specific image of draping/pouring red)

Persistent and exaggerated negative beliefs or expectations about oneself, others, or the world (e.g., “I am bad,” “No one can be trusted,” “The world is completely dangerous,” “My whole nervous system is permanently ruined”) - Consistent and returning thoughts of worthlessness for self (’Why am I still here versus....?” ; others are seen to be temporary in her life and cannot be held onto for long ( “they need something from me, that’s why they’re here..”)

Persistent, distorted cognitions about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s) that lead the individual to blame himself/herself or others - Consistent blame on herself for (2) but (1) is vehemently targeted towards both herself when it comes to the deaths of her community -AND- people she distinguishes as responsible for the outcome (Topaxi officials and, at times, associates of TAF ) and authority figures from her country

Persistent negative emotional state (e.g., fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame) - Amplified when Simeon and the persona is seen as an outlet to let out these emotions she believe she needs to keep in line ; usually guilt, anger, and shame meshed together, which leads to fueling reckless behavior and decisions that may hurt herself (which she dubs as necessary)

E “Marked alterations in arousal and reactivity associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following” [MARKED ALTERNATION IN AROUSAL AND REACTIVITY]

Irritable behavior (with little to no provocation) towards objects and people - Most visible when moonlighting as Simeon.

Reckless or self-destructive behavior - Refer to purpose of Simeon persona and her views on her livelihood and how she actively “punishes” herself.

Hypervigilance. - Already present in Sophie, worsened from war. Contributing to this would be her consistency to keep her and her night persona separated; add on need to keep herself on a low-profile and not recognizable in certain locations with medical personnel and researchers.

Sleep disturbance (e.g., difficulty falling or staying asleep or restless sleep) - Already present in Sophie, worsened from war.

F “Duration of the disturbance (Criteria B, C, D, and E) is more than 1 month.”

Has been persistent throughout the ~2 years she has been living in Topaxi.

G “The disturbance causes clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.”

Confirmed.

H “The disturbance is not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., medication, alcohol) or another medical condition.”

Not able to be found in context of the comorbidity exhibited by Sophie. Many new symptoms took form after the experiences she had in war. To note, she has been showing signs of a new comorbidity (substance reliance, alcohol).

SPECIFICATION: Depersonalization with delayed expression (taken a year for these symptoms to begin).

- - -

Sophie Hatter, as previously described, is someone who is coping with trauma through the best way she knows and has done before with her other trauma: ignoring it and shunning herself. However, she has particular outlets that may come of casual consumption of alcohol which happens concerningly frequent throughout certain days if stimuli are present.

Additionally, while Simeon is throughout the criteria, they were not originally made as a result of what occurred. The original creation of Simeon was meant to be a persona she could use to live a “double life” as she needed to make more money and dangerous work paid well. Having them as separate lives, in her eyes, keeps her safe from anyone targeting or her family (but, it is clear that her sisters and stepmother are not on the island).

Instead, they have became a violent outlet for her internalized dread, anguish, and anger. Having the “informant” as an extension of herself, excusing bad decisions and feeling out of her body while the world around her happens, has proven detrimental to the process of the awareness, acknowledgement, assistance, and acceptance of her condition.

Here are several examples of Sophie’s PTSD appearing:

Self-harm/demanding herself to be hurt/trying to mark herself and punish herself

Haggardly, Simeon grimaces while their vest was shed off and resting on the tower hanger, alongside their binder beside it. Their dress shirt was half-way unbuttoned. Over their exposed shoulders and underneath their breasts were imprints.

Scarred fingertip digs into their collarbone. A sharp jab into their clavicle, feeling a minor ache as they push further. Bruise, damn it. Make some mark. Make color, be red.

-- EXCERPT FROM THIS DRABBLE (SOPHIE’S DISPOSITION).

Association with red and the bleeding of traumatic events (1) and (2) joining together, causing her to respond blankly to the situation before being distracted by Yunuen speaking

Red skies, red sparks, red flow, red blossoms in the sky, red stained on metal, red dyeing gowns, red fringes framing a scratched off face that hovers over your pinned body, red hot pain searing into your body, red, red, red red-

-- EXCEPT FROM THIS THREAD (FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH YUNUEN).

Survivor’s guilt and persistent negativity directed at herself because of her survival (The marks are related to (2) and the thought is related to (1)):

On her right hip, roughly the same size as the other, but longer as it had dragged along said hip, the scar was horizontal and deeper than its neighbor, visible from its crinkled appearance. Reminders of life’s misplaced luck, she concludes, not used wisely by Fate this time around. How silly of them to pick me.

-- EXCERPT FROM SILVER STIGMATA (PHYSICAL SURVEY)

Hypervigilance and abundance of stimuli that make her extremely uncomfortable/distrusting of situation:

A heaviness swells in their chest, an unshakable pressure tightening their rib cage, and yet, this was only normal symptoms of living a life like this. Industrial foulness mixed with fresh market fragrances from the decadent and wealthy market by the mouth of the alley; all the more gag-inducing for the young informant.

However, they clutch onto the empty box in their hands, making out the plastic ridges against the faintest callouses on the tip of their fingers They weren’t ignorant to the truth; how these sounds that place them on edge, instead soothed others. After all, this was home for many. But, for Simeon – rather, the one beneath the mask, it was not. And it never would be.

-- EXCERPT FROM THREAD (discontinued as person is inactive in verse)

One of the first instances of Sophie’s PTSD affecting her and being active in a thread would be her firstt, but short-lived, interaction with Tatyana. The avoidance nature and immediate removal from the situation happens in this case when Tatyana revs up the engine on her motorcycle, shouting from a stranger from the apartments joins in, and the heavy and direct smell and vision of smog.

Here’s the break down:

Physiological numbness in the moment; mind is still active, but taking a backseat and removing herself from situation (recognizing self as powerless in moment):

The shouting began as Sophie turns her face away, feeling her skin crawl to a coldness. The words that left his mouth were no less understandable but the ferocity and indignation in his tone was far too recognizable. If she considered it, she could’ve spoken back and defused the situation. The gift of tongues came with the ability to grant passage for others who can’t be brought together by difference of languages.

Physiological response and addition of stimuli that directly relate back to the image of hometown [INTRUSION]:

Sophie Hatter’s eyes are now but a distant gaze over towards the taller blonde, only wishing like she did when she was younger. To disappear, to toil and fade away, to crawl back to whence she came from. Roaring engines, the smell of smoke, it was sickening. It was inespacable in the floating island, but it smelled too much like what remained of home. Add onto the shouting and it was already enough to make her head ache.

(Unknowingly) reenacting particular body language used during trauma; feeling of helplessness in situation that is out of her control:

Some of her body was already numbing at the fingertips and she was pulling the black collar of her turtleneck over her mouth and nose. It wouldn’t work to cushion and black the sounds, their volume growing louder and louder like the pain in her head.

Active avoidance, mind begins flight-or-fight situation with altered perceptive of reality:

“I need somewhere quiet.” She feebly comments, glancing back to the apartment buildings, and believing that there were more people creeping by the windows. The silver-haired woman promptly steps aside. Now, she was ready to shuffle away and avoid the incoming shouts on the block if it continued.

She wasn’t a fan of the memories it brought.

Sudden and abrupt removal from situation, signal of struggling to keep body language together as she wants to avoid an episode:

“Good luck,” she waves a hand, glancing back to the stranger, before balling her hands into the pockets of her sweater. She began her quiet leave.

- - -

More is to be written about Sophie in how she is greatly affected by this. Some drabbles have been scrapped and were planned to express how deep the trauma works. Though, it can be already seen in how Sophie views death, treats her body, a persistently negative view on certain parties and the outcome of life, etc.

Drabbles that were scrapped but would be considered “canon” that relay back to Sophie’s trauma would include:

As Simeon at Lunazul, she ends up getting to a brawl with someone after the table next to hers is repeatedly mentioning the conquests and graphic detail of what has happened to unnamed people (unnamed nationalistic person). Ends up intensely cold, getting up from her seat, and nearly beating the man unconscious with far too much wrath in her body; she rushes out of the bar and has a sobbing breakdown several blocks away.

A confrontation of “Red” that she remembers time and time again; a consistent night terror that follows her nd makes her unable to sleep some nights; actively ‘speaks’ to it while in sleep paralysis and it acknowledges her well. Scene usually ends up with “Red” above her, face reveals to be face heavily mutilated and gouged, screaming loudly and repeatedly at Sophie.

A shutdown in public when there are large amounts of traffic near her because a detour led her to the highway; leading her to hide somewhere and refusing to come out until “they drive away,” which makes her miss the day she’s meant to be working at Miya’s detective office.

A short meeting with one of her neighbor’s children, a young 26-year-old working at a hospital in Central and professor at UCAT, still wearing their scrubs and the heavy smell of ammonia on them. The image itself leaves Sophie cutting conversation short and retreating to her apartment.

- - -

Sophie Hatter is a 20-year-old facing the aftermath of exile from her own country and self and the trauma coming with displacement and surviving the horrors of the world. She is by no means a hopeless case or a lost cause.

But, she is someone who is going to go through development as someone who struggles constantly: as someone who is unsure of what to do with her life, as much as she wants to live normally, her stability and infrastructure has been destroyed her very eyes. She attempts to reconstruct herself but fails to realize how that’d harm her because she is actively avoiding what has happened to her and denies herself that all of this happened.

She believes she can “make up” for something she calls an inadequacy and blames herself for. She “makes up” for it by being a community figure in a place that she would never feel right in or safe in; she "makes up” for it by being a reputable person who would never turn down anyone and offers help whenever she can; she “makes up” by continuously lying to herself and hurting herself.

Part of her screams, another part weeps; one part wants to take vengeance, tear apart everything, and the other wants to curl up and lose herself to the numbness. But, she persists in her hurt with a solution that even worsens these parts that want comfort and healing.

It is a difficult reality she must navigate, which is difficult because she is alone.

No matter how anyone looks at it, the path of exile is a lonesome one when you do not recognize there are someone else’s footprints on the dirt road. Her feet are long tired, dirtied, and bloodied by how far she dragged herself across this time to figure herself out.... But, with each passing day, it seems she’s getting further and further out from anyone’s reach, and before she knows it, she’ll be going down a path of destruction that’d engulf those around her in ash, fire, and death.

#( in which we learn about the eldest ; headcanons )#( verse: ¿cual tu vas a ser? dentro del espejo ves; ¿algiuen más en ese cuerpo? | yni )#trauma tw #ptsd tw #war tw #death tw

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madamhatter · 4 years ago

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ACT ???. BACKSTAGE your name is.....

Note: headcanon dump. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ several smaller ones drafted, decided against spam, and then bunched some together.

got only another thing, a drabble, which it’ll come out soon enough..! had it for ~3 days and isn’t as long as this post.

plumeria.

“And a good morning to you too.” Before the sun greeted the sky, Sophie Hatter had been minding herself to conversation with a newly made friend. Her hand briskly brushes against their cool form to then patting it affectionately. Turns out that her friend was much taller than her, which is quite a shock for how younger they were. Not surprising when she was talking to a blossoming plumeria tree.

After the events in ACT I, SCENE I, and a great amount of guilt (which she easily crumbles under), Sophie ended up using a good portion of her earned bits from that week to purchase the plumeria she enchanted. The tree has been reserved to live comfortably on top of the apartment complex she lives in, which makes it an interesting sight.

She has already constructed a large box (3.5 feet width), filled it with dirt, and transferred the tree into its happy new home. She thankfully did as her magic is, in simple terms, is very reactive. Not needing direct commands, or specific words/chants to use it, her own vocals can impact quite a bit. In this case, it’s the fact that the tree that had once fit in a pot was now already taking on a healthier size. It is has quite visible around the block as it’s already ~6 ft and can grow up to 20 ft. At this rate, it may happen exponentially.

If it sounds like the tree is alone, don’t worry! One of the major projects Sophie had when she (recently) moved into her apartment was to create A) a reliable source of food and B) connections. So, there is a community garden on the rooftop as well, not taking up the entirety of the space (but could, depending on what’s wanted by the complex residents). She acts as the head gardener and spends a good portion up there to tend to vegetables, flowers, and the tree. Anyone in the apartment complex may freely tend to the garden (and take from it).

consumption/charity.

With her only stable income coming from her work as the Vermilion Detective Agency’s housekeeper, and her past history of her family’s ‘bread winner,’ she has spent scrupulous time organizing and budgeting out most weeks in advance. Considering Simeon’s work, which is high risk and high reward, that is not usually counted. She anticipates that there’ll be 'dry periods’ when there might not be available work or she’ll be decommissioned due to injuries sustained from her last job. In her opinion, it’s best to work in assuming conditions are worst than they are, which mean certain sacrifices are made.

For this headcanon, we’ll focus on food consumption. Sophie has notoriously bad health concerns when it comes to herself. This includes missing out on meals and not keeping track of what she has eaten. She is an avid baker and cook from being her family’s provider, but this doesn’t mean she makes things for herself. Honestly, the shame of her skills is that even if she could create as much, she A) can’t enjoy it/rationalizes that isn’t for her pleasure/source, and, in the case of food, B) not able to indulge. Sophie has a major case of “food intolerances” because of the limited availability (and variety) of foods in her childhood.

All this in mind, Sophie tends to have extra ingredients available or a selection of them that she wouldn’t normally eat. (or can’t eat). There’s the fear that it’ll expire and she would’ve wasted money, so she pretty much returned to old habits: assume a bigger household.

Sophie, essentially, has cooked larger meals and offered them out in her apartment. It originally didn’t start like this. She already offered meals already to those in the apartment complex out of compassion. She comes from a relatively small community and it’s always been integral to participate and support those around you; they can be as much as family to you, if you decide to make them so. But, back to topic. Considering how little she’s actually using, she isn’t wanting anything to go to waste

Want a plate in Sophie’s apartment? The first step would be you’d need to live close to her district, or in her district, and heard it by word of mouth (or from the source herself). She can’t go the extra mile and create new locations to serve food. Maybe in local spots, but she is still someone who’s living in poverty. The second step would be to know when. The best way to know? See if the plumeria tree is blossomed.

It blossoms and closes according to when visits the garden. Its a part of her obligations to visit the roof-top garden everyday for about 1~4 times (when she wakes up, when she leaves, when she returns, and when she’s retiring for the day). It can be more times. Again, her speech leaves impact, and given how she speaks to the tree, the flower scan either be opened or closed. If it’s opened, she’s been at the apartment and hasn’t left. If they’re closed, she’s either (trying) to sleep or she’s left the apartment. The flowers aren’t always opened, which doesn’t necessarily reflect that she hasn’t visited. She’s possibly busy/stressed about something, rushing to get things done, or isn’t in the particular mood.

Then again, if someone crashed in and is ridiculously malnourished or mentions they haven’t eaten (or lies about it), she will rush into that kitchen faster than they can blink. It’s always been a part of her character to be a ‘people-pleaser’ to some angle, usually seen as compassion. ..Add in the fact that her guilt can be used against her effectively and the person might not even be trying.

rambling below. wasn’t proof-read. just me going.

..Now that I think about it, this act itself is coping to the internalized and externalized exile she’s facing. She’s completely removed from her family unit (sisters), the one thing that kept her going, and her home and history has been destroyed. It’s already of her to genuinely fear loneliness and the inevitable ‘uselessness’ she will be because all she’s worked for has always been to benefit/aid her sisters.

She believes the worth she actually feels good about ( read: the one time feels happy when she’s being used/taken advantage of) will expire as soon as her sisters don’t need her anymore. She spent her life being used and gotten used to it because she, as a child, *agreed/accepted* her shit fate in lieu that she’d be used to help/nurture/do everything for her sisters’ happiness/stability/etc. That is literally the reason why she rolls with it. Just for them.

In her eyes, she’s *very* close to the point where her life is going to really have no purpose because she has reconstructed herself for her sisters-. and there’s the fact that if she successfully raised them and ensured them everything they need, they wouldn’t need her. she’ll be obsolete and she knows that. and it’s just a countdown until she’s truly useless, which then means she’ll be lonely because there’s no desirability/use to her. in her head, that’s how relationships work with her and has been the standard since she was a kid.

providing to people is her life’s obligation because of how she’s been molded to see herself as.

This is a way to get some company and placate the terror of isolation she believes she is fated for. She might’ve reconstructed and gained control of her fate. But, there are certain things your life is barred to because what you perceive to happen/it to be. Basically, self-fulfillment prophecy.

She still has that gap because of her own internalization, repression, and other co-morbid beliefs, trauma, etc.. She hasn’t gotten to that point, or is she avoiding it? She can physically and emotionally adapt well, but mental adaptation is the harder thing to do.

It doesn’t help this is the idiot who doesn’t ask for help or admit to these things. Then there’s the problem of her not wanting to be alone, but she pushes relationships away because her feelings towards them are ‘this isn’t going to last and I shouldn’t get comfortable’ and ‘my relationships exist only for exchange in that I need to give and the person has to receive, or else something’s wrong.’

this can go on, but, nah - this is going to get too off-topic.

tldr: she’s a dumbass who craves intimacy and company like everyone else but rejects most human desires/wants because she wasn’t treated like a proper human and normalized it for herself. sophie believes her relationships are based on ulterior motive + her needing to provide because that what she thought is normal for her.

budgeting ( + peek into psyche )

Financial stability hadn’t been a staple of Sophie’s life. Emptied pockets and urgency had been, however, persistent conditions by which she coordinated herself and handling between the family shop and her family’s needs. Electricity was all too new in the valley, running water was a commodity that could’ve been easily revoked and it was harder to regain, warmth was at an all-time best whenever the Hatter sisters trio huddled together, and food was as much of a surprise for Sophie with each passing day. As she’s gotten older, she saw less of these impending fears, if only because she placed herself immediately into the workforce. No pay she made was her own, her stepmother pocketed it, but it was thankfully used for the family....with what little was left after Fanny did whatever she wanted with it.

However, those yesterdays were swallowed by a veil of smoke and ember, far too thick to navigate and too hard to breathe in. Instead of a family of the five remaining Hatters, all it was now in Sophie’s estranged life was herself in Topaxi. Her sisters were fortunately in apprenticeships in the empire and Fanny was recently remarried to some rich man -- to whom she never met properly as they gotten engaged and eloped during her disappearance. Even if she spent countless days in a cramped apartment, watching the paint chip away on her ceiling and only in the company of flowers and hats, she was still stubborn to fall on her oldest habit. Every pinch of money she made in her numerous jobs were budgeted with such precision that more than 60% of the funds were mailed out and sent to her sisters at the end of every month.

With the legally questionable yet financially beneficial jobs, it made things much easier to support her family. Her own safety, sanity, and security, however, weren’t priorities. Not that they did matter, anyways, since the importance of a job was customer satisfaction and a successful transaction.

Simeon stirs from their momentary silence, shaking their head at the sound of talk before them. It’d been another arrangement to do another one of those jobs, and it was becoming a routine that they weren’t at all fond of. Morals and better judgement rallied to put a stop in engaging and profiting from this field of world, but those wouldn’t produce anything worthy for her sisters to live off on. It didn’t matter what the self thought and wanted, what mattered was the others.

“Uhuh.” Don’t act as if you were originally listening.

misc.

Given her origins in [REDACTED], particular the location in the country, much of the advancements in Topaxi and in many countries weren’t available for her. She hasn’t ever needed to own a phone (or had one in her house home). There are certain things that are needing to get used to. One of the major points for this is that Sophie’s inadequacy with technology (even if it’s not ‘modern’ to our standards) does impact her. This does include a vehement dislike towards cars, which didn’t exist in the valley where she grew up in. She will pretty much refuse to enter one and would prefer handling foot traffic and relying on her knowledge to find barely-traveled routes. It isn’t necessarily labeled as a phobia, but she does have a great unease inside cars and tends to shimmy to the side, gripping the seat cushion. She would continue conversation but her inputs are not as verbose. She will not look out of the windows and try to keep herself distracted. The only other time this reaction can be invoked if she’s shoved into any medical facility -- which spikes her anxiety. But, in that particular case, her hostility will appear and it’s not something that really, really comes out easily.

Knowledge in obscure, if not concerning, topics happens to be ever true in this version than in her usual incarnation. Outside of what her canon establishes in understanding demonology, curses, and contracting, there is the additional compact of her understanding human anatomy. It’s, admittedly, something that doesn’t come out normally and this is mainly discussing the different systems that govern the body. She will share her techniques and skills when it comes to tending/first aid, and the information will out come, but it’s much more friendlier for normal people. It can easily have its tune changed. Genuinely speaking, the application of this knowledge goes into explaining the limitations of the body and reactions that the body will have if certain bones, organs, etc. are damaged, removed, etc. If we need to go further in, this does include things like dissection and such. Example of how it’ll be approached, here: “Here.” Sophie tapped her finger to an image dedicated to the spinal cord as the image listed off the nerves associated with the system, injuries one could get, the name of each vertebrate, etc. “Theoretically,” she turned to Natsume, assuming he was paying attention and not returning to the devil spawns he called his cats. “If you look at the top, you have the cervical vertebrae.” Sophie gently poked Natsume’s spine with the tip of her scarred fingertips. “C6 is one of the points where you’d need to get in order to start the process. An injury here could be as harmless as you could expect but there’ll be paralysis from the neck downwards. It is very vital. Something like a hairline fracture could work if the person isn’t looking.” Just imagine it to get into more uncomfortable detail. Why does she know this? Good question.

Sophie’s been formerly cursed as an old woman like in canon. and, weirdly, embraced it faster than any person should’ve. It still impacts her in ways, but spoilers :). The main point is that she falls into the habit of speaking much older than she is. Doesn’t matter if you’re two years older, twice her age, or the one responsible for making the universe, she will refer to you as ‘young,’ among other things, and use titles of endearment. As a reminder, she is 20 years old, physically that age and actually that age. It is weird but we’re rolling with it.

Sophie can most likely outdrink you.

Can make you a sweater. a cap too.

Can lift quite well! Listen, she’s not ripped, but she can pick up above her weight (in terms of people). If she can’t completely pick you, she’ll drag you.

ACHIEVEMENT: end notes. ☆ Read over one of Sophie’s extras.

UNLOCKED: ☆ encyclopedic oddity - Shorter GCD for ‘encyclopedic oddity,’ ability in which Sophie spills out strange and off-hand facts/accounts. May also ask her for facts please don’t ☆ the cratchit to your scrooge - sophie may be hired to take on accounting/budgeting work. just as the title suggests, she can also be paid horribly for this job. ☆ home is where your favorite plate is - chance encounter to gain ‘full stomach’ buff when entering (or barging into) sophie’s apartment. the first question i ask is, how did you manage- ☆ you’re out of touch - sophie gains debuff, ‘you’re out of touch,’ and has lowered resistance to electronics and certain forms of technology.

#( in which we learn about the eldest ; headcanons )#( verse: ¿cual tu vas a ser? dentro del espejo ves; ¿algiuen más en ese cuerpo? | yni )

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madamhatter · 4 years ago

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act 0. observer’s notes your name is….. remarking sophie’s hair in yni/topaxi

Expanding from part 1, I wanted to touch upon the “second layer” as described in the post. Sophie's status as an innate and the application of the in-universe magic system to her power already influences her appearance. This would include Sophie's hair. Nothing will be spoiled here in terms of her story, nor anything that wasn't already mentioned by the creator of Topaxi on the official Discord server.

I combine the brown and white/silver of the movie with the red from the book in my usual interpretation of Sophie. What that concludes to, in most verses, is that Sophie is born with the shade, it darkens, and then inevitably turns silver/white. The causation varies per verse because of her canonical curse or canities associated with her genetic history (+medical history)/socioeconomic circumstances/responsibilities/etc.

Most importantly, the transition is indicative of Sophie's character change. It branches to understanding, sometimes acceptance, and other things. It is a symbol of her taking direction/moving from her dormant state of life. It does not always mean she's taking a positive direction/having character development since not all the changes in a verse may be negative/be character regression (at first).

In Topaxi, a younger Sophie would be someone who starts the same with dark auburn hair. That gene was inherited from her father, Sebastian. The color has been prominent throughout her youth, red golden highlights apparent whenever the sun glistened through the workshop's small window and reflected off her hair. Following similar beats/parallels with her father, Sophie would inevitably begin sprouting white hairs before 18. Before his death at age 38-39, Sebastian already was sporting a long white streak in his hair.

In the current story, Sophie's hair is already light. As first established in my summary of Sophie in this verse, her story is:

Altered to where her curse is a solitary journey.

Set two years after these events.

Handling her being a survivor of war and handler her own trauma and turmoil.

When I say 'light,' it generally refers to the overall look of her hair. But, if I were to specify, I cannot say all of her hair is the same color. Portions of hair, though while they may not look different from far, are quite very different when someone gets much, much closer and concentrates on the color.

Think of rings in a tree. Rings indicate a year of life, the thickness between rings indicates a change of seasons (or even trauma acquired through forest fires), and the color can reveal water availability.

To begin with, Sophie hasn’t cut her hair for over the two years she’s been at Topaxi. The length that was originally reaching her shoulders is well past the half-way point of her back.

Much of the lower end of her hair, was already experiencing her hair turning silver. This is in part because her hair largely still contained its original pigment and was already growing out. The color itself is already affected by the “graying” process, but it is notable that it isn’t purely silver. Almost with a golden hue that is reminiscent of the highlights her hair once head. This hair color was mostly her main color when she arrived to Topaxi.

In combination, the curse affected her hair color to be more dominantly gray in color. But, comes the interesting part.

A major portion of her newly grown hair, now reaching to her shoulders, is not silver. It is bone white. This isn’t visible during at normal hours that she is herself in day-to-day life. Her original hair color has been absolved of any of its original pigment, but isn’t “graying out” as her hair was originally.

Thus introduces the complexity of Sophie’s glamor (for general, refer to her stats sheet.) Different areas are focused on to appear different altogether. For the day, it is her hair and body marks. For the night, it is her body and specific parts of her body. Always on, the glamor works to keep her living a double life with the only faint resemblances to ‘Sophie’ being her bleeding empathy and decision-making.

Her hair is something very important to keep covered, given how rare white hair is and how it’s associated mainly with “innate” / She doesn’t need the target on her back again.

White hair, as a refresher, is a reaction the body has to ichor in one’s system; those in their third awakening, or drawing close, will have their hair slowly turn white. Sophie’s transition is considered alarmingly fast.

Though, with how little academia and the population know of innates, white hair is viewed superstitiously. Usually, it can be seen as a curse or a connection with of gods long old and long dead. Whether it is seen as a blessing from a god’s, or their mark for damnation, is up to the culture.

The strength of the glamor is heightened by her being an innate, and because of her drive and self-education, she has also created her own system of layering illusions. The layers start with bruises and cuts she needs to conceal (1), her hair color (2), and may continue on. Layers can vary by which region of her body she needs changed (IE: the first five layers are dedicated to covering her neck, palms, abdomen, right foot, back shoulder) and can be localized to very specific region. These go as the following: 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, etc.

The final one, which hasn’t been fully introduced. Or has been, if you know where to look.

Each layer is harder to either dispel/see through, given her current level and how her magic works. The easiest to undo are the first layers, but the higher the number, the harder it will be, and the “final layer” is always the same.

But, comes the question, for the woman who keeps changing herself routinely like an magician at a show:

What lies beneath the illusions, and what is she becoming?

Yes, I’m going hard with tree + nature associations with Sophie, this is (part) of the imagery we’re rolling with in this verse :3c

#( verse: ¿cual tu vas a ser? dentro del espejo ves; ¿algiuen más en ese cuerpo? | yni )#( in which we learn about the eldest ; headcanons )#long post tw #long post #[ i got too many hcs in drafts...might as well post one mkgdgf ]

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miraruinada · 3 years ago

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@madamhatter

Within the Library, its many floors and rows upon rows of shelves, one could securely state that the repository of the world’s knowledge was housed within its halls. Especially underground, where the floors bottom out into the archives which stored much of the world’s rarest and most precious tomes which only the top ranking staff and researchers with special permission granted by UCAT’s leading faculty could only provide.

Bibi couldn’t step into those archives, but in the middle of the chaos her instinct was to try and find a way into them, because that security was something she needed right now. It became so that she cursed how far away the Arcane Library was from the Public Library. She cursed the stupid little rivalry the Magus Department felt the need to keep with the rest of the university.

So now here she was, away from her home turf as a practical army came knocking, inching her away across the various floors down to the basement levels, hoping to find a way to unlock that door.

In truth, she had a key. Stolen or not, a key is a key.

YOHUALLI EHECATL TITLACAUAN (Night and Wind, We are His Slaves)

The rolling fog of darkness did little in the well-lit space of a library. At best, she could use her shadow to detect if someone were around before they would ever notice her. And so it did.

Immediately, her eyes glowed in preparation for cast--

Someone kicked down a vent cover and crawled into the first floor hall.

“Wha-- Who are you?! Why are you commencing a virtuous mission here?”

#madamhatter #;en otro lado (yni verse).#topaxi event 1

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miraruinada · 3 years ago

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WON’T LAST FOREVER: Death March

They’d told her he’d been at the Mercado Mayor District, officially known as District 4, where a major portion of all the imports into the city came in, the historical market district that historically expanded with the city, where most produce went through before being delivered to the other districts in the city. If UCAT was the academic center and Central was the political center, then the Mercado Mayor was the commercial center.

He’d been momentarily relieved of duty with the Rose Guard out of the blue, an action that should have been regarded with suspicion, but one that he didn’t pay any mind towards since all he was thinking of was how much free time that gave him to go and be his usual self. Immediately after being relieved, he’d planned to visit the market and buy gifts for a surprise visit with whoever he was going to spend his time off with. At least, that’s what she assumed from all the information she’d gathered.

Unfortunately, that put him at risk of being right beside what had occurred in the plaza as the entrance to the Mercado Mayor and the Central District Plaza were a couple blocks apart, meaning that he would have directly heard the screams and the silence that followed after. Given his position as a Rose Guard, he would’ve most likely also caught wind of what the rest of the Rose Guard was ordered to do in the university, which would only make him do something rash.

It was at this moment where she was racing through streets and alleys trying to figure out what path he was most likely taking that she sincerely wished that for once his mind was not as simple as she made it out to be, hoping against hope that he would sit in place and think for once without rushing into danger to save someone: a trait she found admirable before, but now considered his most glaring weakness.

Unfortunately, fate didn’t seem like catering to her wishes any time soon as the very man she was trying to find rushed past her heading in the opposite direction: to the direction of Xocalla station. And all her fears were confirmed once more.

It took a moment for her to realize who had just run by her, given the general panicked atmosphere in the Mercado Mayor had many civilians running around in every direction, for fear that whatever threat (most believing it to be DUST) it was to place the city on high alert wouldn’t reach them before they reached what they assumed was a safe place, and given her disbelief that he really would and she really had to watch him go.

“Yunuen!” she shouted behind her, sliding to a halt and turning right back around.

Her voice caught his attention enough that he stopped in his tracks and turned over his shoulder to her, a moment of relief washing over her that was only temporary when she saw that he wasn’t turning to fully face her and didn’t walk over to meet her, as if all he was affording her was a temporary pause before he went right back to a full sprint.

“Don’t do it!” she said, running to him, placing a hand on his arm, gently tugging on his sleeve. She knew exactly what he was planning to do. He knew that she knew. She knew that he knew that she knew. It was her gamble to be direct with him, to try and keep him from going, to keep him from running directly into hell.

“Do what?” he asked with that same clueless face, and it was at this moment where she began to question all those times he was being clueless, whether all of that was an act or he was genuinely unaware. She realized then that she really didn’t know what went through his mind apart from his motives, that she didn’t know what he truly thought.

It frustrated her endlessly. It certainly didn’t help her emotional state. She could feel the moon staring down at her, the same ghastly visage that shined in the sky with a cratered grin when she had lost someone before, when she was marked an omen for all who came to know her. She knew that she could do nothing but cry out, if she were to run beside him, she’d surely make them both trip and fall. If her curse fell on him, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. All she could do was watch helplessly, as was her fate in exile.

The bells announcing the hour rang through the district, their ringing reminding her of the chiming of his chainmail the night they first met, when he played the hero for her because she was “a cute girl” that he couldn’t ignore. Was his intention genuine, was it truly because he found her cute enough that he stepped in, or was it because it was something he would just instinctively do?

Had he always lied so well, to everyone, to himself?

She stared at his exposed palm, the hand of the wrist she'd taken to stop him. She looked at all the scratches and scars that ran along his palm in every odd angle possible. She remembered holding his hands, remember how rough and calloused they felt. Just what histories of struggle and pain did they hide? Just how much did his long sleeves and boots hide? Did she fall in any place of importance in that story they told, or was she just another page?

Could she really prevent him from doing what he always did before and after her? Would she only be able to lose him without doing anything but watching?

“Nana, are you...”

She was.

“Don’t make me watch you walk away... Don’t leave like that, please... Don’t make me feel like my words aren’t getting through to you...” She sniffled, trying to wipe away the tears streaking down her cheeks, trying to keep her cool and maintain the same annoyed glare she usually shot at him when he was about to do something stupid trying to impress someone. Who was he trying to impress? Always playing the hero!

“Don’t you dare get me feeling worthless like that, you stupid knight!”

A hand fell on her head, the same familiar weight, the same rough, calloused feeling. The comfort it brought her, how it gently stroked around the nubs where her horns once grew before she cut them off to survive in the wider world, now filled her with more dread, knowing how much easily she was swayed with such action that he was with her words.

Don’t you dare do that.

“I’m only gonna check up on a friend, then I’ll be right back. Plus, if something goes bad, I’m strong, remember? I’ll be fine. Believe that I will be.”

You’re lying. Since when have you been such a liar?

“I’m not gonna leave you like that. We’ll go to the carnival again, okay?”

You will. I know you will. Don’t you dare do it. Please.

“I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll just go in, verify, then get out. Okay?”

You always do stupid things. Stop, please! Don’t make me...

“So just sit tight. I’ll get you up to speed while we eat cotton candy.”

”Okay...!” Don’t make me believe another lie.

Just like that, he turned back around and started to sprint again. To go after another person, to leave her behind in all her worries and fears. Was it the immediacy that made that person more important, or had that person always occupied a greater place in his heart than she did?

Don’t turn around.

“NUNU!” she shouted.

Or you might catch my heart breaking.

Yunuen turned back around.

She mustered all her courage to show a bright smile, no matter how fake it was. No matter how fake it appeared, to put on a brave face and ask her for one last favor.

“Stay safe! Promise!”

“Yup! Promise!”

After she watched him disappear into the crowd, she fell to her knees and let out a loud wail in grief. Somewhere, something had died that day. And nothing would revive it.

_____________________________________________________________________

Near the recently vacated Department of Technological Research and Development, in a hidden path between the park and the dorms...

“So we meet again, boy.”

Fear rooted him in place. This person is...

“So you’re still up to the same tricks.”

The voice chilled him to the bone.

“I remember you vividly.”

His hands were shaking violently, gripping the sword at his hip.

“You seem to remember the fear.”

His nervous smile widened.

“But do you remember me?”

WHEN EYE MEETS EYE: YOUR DREAMS WON’T LAST FOREVER.

#topaxi event 1 #;your name is.

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miraruinada · 3 years ago

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WON’T LAST FOREVER: Losing Is Ours

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. The news that Ana had dropped left the both of them frozen in that cramped garage office as if time itself had stopped. The only sound filling in the void left was the radio still playing music.

To Claudio, the sound of the radio suddenly became infuriating. Music, which served as a wonderful dalliance away from the drudgery of daily life, now felt an empty, mocking dirge towards the miserable conditions on the world.

To Tatyana, the world itself felt far off. Her mind raced with images of an advancing guard, of the weapons that glimmered like onyx jewels that marked the end of all fates as they rained death on all the lands they trampled. The news became a refutation of all the hopes and dreams that had sprung up in the three years since she’d moved in to this wretched city, the crown jewel of the greatest empire of the world, the shining beacon of majesty.

Claudio was the first to respond, though not to the news at first. He moved his hand towards the radio, shut it off to stop the god awful acoustic from ringing in his ears any further. He sat still, with the hand still on the dial, until he settled back into his seat with the cigar in his hand. He took one long drag and blew out smoke. Then he sighed.

“I see,” all he came to say.

Tatyana was lastly taken back to the room by his words, more by the lack of emotion in them than what they were. She abruptly turned her gaze on him, and all the fear and anger she felt from the news was focused on this man she’d professed to owing her life to in that moment. She couldn’t keep herself from speaking.

“That’s all ya got to say?!” she yelled at him.

The yell was enough to make him jump. He’d never heard Tatyana’s anger turned on him before. Not in all the years they’d known each other. Not in all the seconds they’d spent together. Not in every single moment her hands touched a part of his body.

“They opened fire on civilians! Their own civilians! They’re back to doing the same shit they did seven years ago, and all you’ve got to say is ‘I see’?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Her hands wrung out Claudio’s collar, managing to lift him up off his seat enough that he was level to her where she stood. Her voice cracked at the end from how hard, from the bottom of her lungs she shouted. In her tone of voice, the anger and rage were mixed with an underlying dread and despair, a familiar feeling she thought she’d buried when she cried for her deceased mother to save her in that battlefield. She took a deep breath.

“It’s happening again! How could you just--”

“What do you expect me to do?” Claudio interrupted her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, a gentle squeeze that usually brought her back from her anger, but was now met with arms smacking them away. She grabbed hold of his wrist, the prosthetic hand creaking under the pressure that she yanked it forward between the two of them.

“After everything they took and they’re taking more! I want--”

“I can’t do what you want!” he interrupted once more, now raising his voice.

Tatyana kicked at the table the radio was set on, the motion causing it to fall over and smash on the floor. Claudio was less attentive of the wood grain pieces and mechanical parts that now laid in a mess on the greasy floor and more on the leg which had kicked the table: her mechanical leg.

“I don’t give a fuck what you can’t do! I hate that you act this way every fucking time! Don’t you fucking care about--”

“I do care! I care so fucking much!” he shouted over her, his booming voice loud enough to cause her pause.

Claudio’s arms rested once more on her shoulders.

“Three fucking years working to try and fix all this! Putting myself and everyone I love in danger, destroying my past, fighting and fighting and fighting day after day just to let us breathe! It’s all because I care too much! Yet no matter how much I do, how much we do, it’s never enough!”

Claudio’s voice cracked.

“Everyone in that plaza and in that campus. I hate it! I can’t do anything! I hate that!”

Tatyana’s eyes grew wide.

“I hate feeling always powerless!”

Claudio was crying.

Tatyana fell into his arms.

Claudio fell back into his seat.

“What do I do?” he earnestly asked.

“I don’t know,” Tatyana cried.

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know.”

It was only the two of them, feeling as helpless as they had been on that field seven years ago.

Ana had gone to chase after a boy who was too closely tied to UCAT to be left alone. She knew he might end up doing something too drastic.

#topaxi event 1 #;en otro lado (yni verse).#;your name is.

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