Oh goodness. Q vq a female I have real connection with.
I know you want to go to heaven, but you're human tonight
Name: Coloratura [
Elaborate ornamentation of a vocal melody] Liesl [
Oath of God] Joachim [
Father of Virgin Mary]
Nickname: Chika [---- ]
Personality:
Many think quietude is timidity, that noiselessness is only the full reality of one being, that if you are silent you are everything silence ever stereotypically became. Liesel, a tranquil bystander in everyones existence, tends to have a personality quite quiet, though deviated away from her already withstanding mutism. Liesl is naturally anxious, she does not do well in many situations but works through problems anyway she can, as she must, a general, almost second natured form of tenseness within her. Apart from her anxiety, which can tug her into isolation in communing intervals, truly nothing can stop Liesl. She, among the many who others look, and click their tongues at saying "Poor thing. Can't..." Is quite over acts of pity, and shows it well what with her burning stares and abrupt ways of departing. Wile you may expect this young female to act kind once a friendship has formed, you'll be quite stricken to know that surrounded by the hapless quiet sits a girl who could grind you beneath her heels on her best of days.
Quiet and gentle is not always kind, though Liesl tends to be all three, along with bold. She is, unconventionally, the type to look pristine and right out of an installment of a clandestine magazine, a hurricane with a soft voice, red lips and carelessly unfurled hair, nervously pressing her fingers against one another. At times inappropriate, if she calms enough for her mutism to not effect her near someone, they will come to notice that when the anxious rush that traps her mouth shut is eased, she speaks without a mind. Odd comments here and there are the gist of it, spoken like inside secrets that shouldn't be there just yet.
She is outside her own box, a mismatched gathering of attributes that work together only in specific situations and so have her judged on constant occasion.Talkative and calm is what her family know her as, though she draws further away from them than she does her friends. Friends can recount constant occasions where her voice and her personality become her, lively and animated movements spiced up by placed-in jokes and a flight of laughter than always follows. To strangers she is just a forgotten image, personality rarely sticking and loud as to remind them of Liesl clearly.
-- sometimes it caches up to her with more of its entirety
Short story|
Mom and dad wept in the morning, tired of life and the big blue skies. Coffee kept them stagnant, contact made them dizzy, work let the lines under their eyes and their own scars meld into the crowd. Thank god for that. The house, it shook in silence. the quiet scared them when they realized how submerged they truly were. Without a noise they grew up together. From egotistical adults into truly self-conscious ones. The cycle worked them down in reverse, fortunes wheel raking a discerning turn.
They tried to keep everything numb, for fear of reality hitting them too hard when they turned away for a minute. Everything became frank, a picturesque image of grey and blue, soft tints of violets and creams, in the corners of their eyes they'd notice the eerie flaming touch of red hiding near by and they'd shake. The two feared the brightness, their fear was true. But, their view of everything was more art than normalcy. It was magnanimous, brilliantly beautiful. Beguilingly, they rarely spoke about what they saw, even though they knew that what the world was for them was different than what once it was. The deadly push of anonymity and routine.
Upon rainy days, when the sun peeked just minimally over deep gray clouds, they would open their mouths to talk to each other the most that they could. The trivial stuff, "How has work been?" and "The whether is lovely today" failed to electrify their lives. Though, they kept at it in fear of change. Hopelessly clinging to some form of faith that things would be different. Everything remained still and irritatingly the same. Day by day, wake, work, speak, sit, stand, sleep, rinse and repeat. Their thoughts begged for anything but indifference, but their fear lapped at the feet of a monstrous acceptance of what the world was. And they lived, only with the coping mechanism of protective apathy.
The two were in love... It was oddly beautiful, the soft way they connected together, made contact with just each other. Though, uncomfortably, one couldn't be sure if the reason for the way this relationship stayed intertwined wasn't because they had adapted too much to this lifestyle of theirs. What if, what if the pair had been together for too long for separation to feel right or holy? What if they stayed together just in the sense of apathy, for a separation holding emotions would be too much for the fragile beings?
Finding one another walking towards gardens of caution, mom and dad found salvation within booklets of different birthing places. Both trailed around the idea that a child would fix it all, and fit so nicely into their world still. Their belief was morbid, wrong in an accursed way.
It was helpless curiosity that led them there.
Moms tummy grew round with an excited bundle, and she turned to her coffee more than ever. Intriguingly, casual language became much more interesting than it had ever been. Maybe, it was because she had heard too much about babies as her body prepared. Maybe dad had regained some sensible mayhem. Either way, everything new caught them in compimsingly unforeseen situations, and they adapted in ways almost scary in preparedness.
They, the duo and their evil plans, the maligned deed of having a child that changed them, found the devil itself twining their displeasure away. For the worse with disdain, or selfishly for the better, it could not be spoken. Fearfully, they occupied the inside walls of their house, pacing up and down in rows until the floor ebbed lines in their names. Her mother, the breadwinner of the family, if we're being modest, left for bed a few months into her pregnancy. A mountainous creature gently kicking around inside. Father took up the reigns of outdoor responsibility, so busy that he couldn't be sick about everything happening. The baby came, screaming and crying, legs kicking and arms raised, a month too early with a cry which sounded like the bleet of a sheep.
Her voice took the living room when brought home, and she never seemed to hush. She rarely grew quiet except when company dropped by, staring at her as the little olive skinned face hid in the bosom of her sleep deprived mother. More and more people seemed to come each day, and truthfully, her parents could barely keep up with one or two visitors, never mind what seemed to them like hundreds. It was nauseating. The multitude of footsteps in the house, the endless knocking on their door, both isolated hermits recoiling in unfelt malady.
They had grown unused to it all. So, never did they expect the way their little closeted up world seemed to spin.
The way color seem to screech at their gray lives, pushing away well plastered darkness with methods which appeared to recreate the process of death itself. Both retracted in good measure, but could not keep the doors locked and the windows shut well enough. The people, they called themselves guests, they were intruders... They found ways in that the two could not comprehend no matter how they tried. Coffee in the morning was nothing but a shared attempt to figure out new baby plans and... How did a new house away from civilization sound? Aged scars and weary bags under their eyes were mistaken for family troubles, casual midday conversation was a tedious way to contact each other... Contact, in itself, kept care as the only item to give the lonely pair stability.
and among the hubbub, the noise and cheery excitement, a baby was born. Her cries quickly taking up the home. They carried her babbling disaster of a body home and rocked her about, wishing for the silence of life to eat up the night so that sleep could take them breathless. Among the plan of having a baby, rembering everything that had gone through their minds as they bouncing their arms up and down to calm her, it seemed both of the babys parents had forgotten the more daunting bits of things. Every hunt of urgency, complexity and habit to be afeared of, all that crazy mess of things within life was scary. And she... She was just as scary.
----
November 12. The sun was out, the clouds floated in the sky as delicately as butterflies, and the birds... Well, the birds were everywhere.
A young Liesl was covered in a thin pashmina jacket, feet stomping over as many leaves as they could with electrified hops.
The darkness was slowly creeping in, but in inches, as slowly as a snail, so there was nothing to worry about. Birds hopped onto evey branch with lightning quick, flighty motions, raising then lowering their heads, cocking them to watch the world around them. Their small bodies were plush vessels warmth, ready to work over the cool temperatures coming on soon.
It wasn't a big thing that made her into someone "silent" although to her the experience itself was bigger than life. It wasn't expected, nothing big or booming happened, all that happened was all that was needed for her to feel a sense of horror, of some form of danger, and
that most people don't appreciate or try to understand. They think it minuscule for her to go through the trauma of voicelessness in a society that never shuts its trap... Though, they could be wavered off. They didnt know better, they hasn't gone through the same experiences as she had, standing before someone, unable to form a single word, barely nodding. They didn't feel the things she did when they had to speak, her chest collapsing on itself, the grasping of a hard metallic claw within her stomach, breathless anxiety that wouldn't let a single thing out.
... They did not know how hard it was, to want to be able to do something, something they found so simple that they didn't question the gifted ability of having it even once, and not be able to because forces worked against you.
your favor
Malformed redacted
Theme music:
Art: (At least three)
Still mute, still Liesl ofc
Dreams of becoming an Asl signer for a children show
Spends most of her time on the road/road trips
Creates birdhouses from fallen foliage
Creates dolls from clay, and carves wooden figurines with a knife
Liesl once had a voice louder than the crackling of thunder, the excitement within it made her voice sound louder than anything and anyone-- keeping quiet for too long created the feeling of suppression, a lack of breath. All too much like suphocation for her liking. But, when she was around others that asphyxia came to her once more, Andes couldn't say a word.
This will be an impress me competition!
I would like to see these basic elements though-
As a child; Blank in outdoor setting, quite expressionless, somewhat awkward body language if put on the spot
Hoards
Selective mutism, social anxiety, separation anxiety
Quite a quiet personality at home, inflexible, moody and assertive, can talk non-stop in comfortable situations, only to the correct people
Generally communicates nonverbaly in outside situations, or whispers to close ones, shuts down when she seems a situation too panic inducing, although many situations can be
Her wn being is rather uncommunicative at times, even if she didn't have her mutism, the anxiety causes problems with communication to rise and be more problematic
Incorrigible temper, quite peaceful generally
Pacifistic tendencies
Feel free to add on!
This will end on December 1st
Things to know:
She is mute, I would like if that trait was kept, it's up to you though.
She has some art, PM me if you'd like to use it in your form (this will not count towards the minimum art)
Hex codes:
#C4A98B
#DECFC3
#7E7057
#5B5140
#332928
#130C77
I will be judging quality over quantity.