[kivr & fireflii]

[CleanBandit]

Username: CleanBandit
Name: Karasu ((Crow in Japanese)) Furai ((Fly in Japanese))
Nicknames: Crow, but anything goes with her. Once in awhile she'd be called by her tease name, puppet. Some even call her the Flying Crow, which she thinks is a compliment but isn't too sure.
Gender: Agender, but goes by any pronouns, mostly labelled as a female.
Personality: She's able to trust quickly, but she tries to be cautious about that whenever someone attempts to befriend her. She's someone who gets used a lot, used for money, help, anything but company or a friend. She stays loyal though, and acts like it's all a game. Though, if you push her too far and take her kindness as weakness, you're in for some trouble with one of the most known jaupie on the streets.

Story: Karasu sighed as she sat at a bench at the park. This was the third one who's played her like a puppet in the past two months. She roughly stepped on the flowers that were given to her only a few hours before, sniffed, and walked off to get to the coffee shop she loved. Though, as she walked away the flowers began to grow again. At this point, her friends were all at that shop.. Or maybe it was just the coffee that was her friend.. She didn't really know, and she actually didn't care either at the moment. She just wanted to feel the comforting warmth of the coffee while the sun would set. This coffee was usually what kept her cool during these situations, which is ironic because the coffee was warm. She also liked tea, but coffee was always better. Especially caramel coffee.

That night Karasu couldn't sleep. It was as if it was drifting away from her, so she stayed up and looked outside her window. She only loved on the third story, but that was as high as it got. The darkness was calming in a way to her, and she could only hear her breath at that moment. Her mind began to wander, and she thought about songs she had mentally kept in her head. She opened a window which let a light breeze fill the room, making it a bit colder than it previously was. Ah, yes, she had finally remembered that she needed sleep after an hour, and it was 3 am.. She closed the window and made her way to her bed, almost stumbling upon her tiredness. She fell asleep once her head hit the pillow, and to be fair she was happy she was able to sleep at all, even if it was only for three hours.

((266 words))

Songs that represent them: Nonsense by Madeon and Sweet Nothing by Calvin Harris and Florence Welch

Art:

[vampy!!]

username vampy!!
name djinn
gender non-binary, but uses female
pronouns and is very feminine
story rosepetals// wip

art and form by me!

playlist
lady of the flowers - placebo
do you know what i'm seeing? - p!atd
goner - twenty one pilots
oh ms believer - twenty one pilots
bohemian rhapsody - queen
the sound - the 1975
antichrist - the 1975
queens - misterwives
the other girl - the young veins
she had the world - p!atd
ghost (one mic one take) - halsey
that green gentleman - p!atd

ddddddd

[~Tornado~]

So pretty!

[Lillybear]

Username;
Lillybear

Name;
Esmeralda
Nicknames;
Ez, Ezzie
Gender;
Female

Story;
Esmeralda clapped her hands, her golden bracelets
clanking in rhythm alongside her and her cheering
audience. Her feet tapped the ground at fast pace,
her eyes closed shut, enjoying another moment in
the street's spotlights. But unbeknownst to her, an
unexpected and frankly unwanted guest had been
hiding the "wings" of the stage, his sharp blue eyes
waiting for the perfect moment to steal the show.
He shifted his view to her bracelets, the real prize.
He didn't think they'd be real gold - she was in low
class, after all, but he'd surely be able to persuade
someone to cough up some nice bucks for them.
Esmeralda swung herself around, smiling softly.
It was a nice smile, he'd admit. But he'd have
to ignore that for now, because he saw it as
his chance. She was completely lost in the
music. He skittered out of his hiding spot
and promptly spun her around. Being as
lost as she was, she didn't even seem to
notice. A ripple of gasps and murmurs
raced through the crowd, but again,
it went unnoticed. Even as the claps
died down, Esmeralda smiled and spun
as fast as ever. While she spun, Damien
saw this as another gleaming chance. He
reached for her bracelets and slipped one
off, and then another. Esmeralda blinked
for a moment, but the world was dizzy as
she continued to spin. She assumed what
she felt was her mind playing tricks on her,
but based on the crowd's lack of their usual
energy, she knew something was wrong. He
had just the right amount of time to slip to
the wall to act as if he'd been watching the
whole time instead of dancing - or stealing.
"Who are you?" She asked, unaware of the
golden bracelets he'd put on that had been
once hers. He only responded with a wink,
a devilish grin, and him pointing at her, a
little spark coming out of his finger. He
quickly turned and ran before she figured
him out. Confused, Esmeralda turned to the
crowd, whom were speechless. Assuming they
were waiting for another dance, she struck a
pose. She held her hands out and shook them,
waiting to her her bracelets clank with noise
to start her dance. But there was no sound.
She looked to them and gasped.
They were not there.
{394/500}

Personality;
Esmeralda dances with joy and life, and with balance and rhythm.
She dances with ease and, mostly with her eyes closed, wanting to
enjoy every second of it while it lasts. She's wild and free, unafraid
to flail her arms or stomp the ground. Anything she does will please
herself and impress her audiences. Jaupies of all ages and class will
come to watch her. She has a thick accent that can make her hard
to understand, and a feisty, snappy attitude. She's a no-nonsense
kind of girl, and she waves off things she deems unimportant or
useless and will pretend to listen when she's not. She has a good
heart, though, and she tries to care. She'd never intentionally
hurt anyone or do anything bad. But she does tend to brag
and gloat about her fame, beauty, and fabulous dancing.

[koegami]

Username: Lord Raegami

Story:
siren serenaded other jaupies with his dance. [wip]

[ophanimera]

Username: pterodactyl

Stage name: Marigold
Real name: Amarilla D'Mond
Age: Approximately 27 years old
Sex: Female


Story:

The earthy woodwind and string music, the slight, yet rhythmic chiming, the hushed audience down the street, all elements of her performance. Echoes and exhales of envy waft through the alleyways, even dust settles for her dances. Clouds of Jaupies flock to the street for the mid-day dance. Graceful, fluid, rhythmic, evocative, sudden. The whirling carousel of music intensifies as she finishes with an incredible acrobatic stunt: throwing her spinning hoop with a foot which slows to a halt as she catches it. She holds her open arms up to catch chains of marigolds, lofted for her namesake, and applause. The flowers awaken in her grasp from their wilted slumber, a product of her magic.

She bows to her dedicated audience, offers a few words of appreciation and kindness before slipping off into a verdigris tent, vanishing out of sight. She had what she needed. Neatly concealed betwixt the flaps and façade of a personal parlor, vanity and changing-room is an escape, a pathway leading beneath and through the city. Only Amarilla has the key, keenly concealed as a chime coin on her belts, this way those believing this is a lavish retreat are none the wiser. The pathway beneath the flower covered entrance lets slices of light in from air holes during the hot summer day. It traces through back alleys and underneath the dirt-encrusted buildings of her city. She tosses the chains of marigolds along the path behind her as she goes, leaving a wake of petals behind her fleet feet. They help keep her clothes clean. Marigold, or Amarilla, was returning to headquarters. You see, being a street dancer, however loved, doesn't pay the bills.

She did, however, have acute hearing when not dancing, when the words of the crowd aren't drowned out by music, chimes, cheers, sighs. The times in-between the music and dance. Amarilla uses this to her advantage, collecting valuable secrets and information from passersby she had gotten to know as her adoring fans. Their whereabouts in the evening, especially of key persons of interest, would be for purchase by The Bureau, an agency interested in private investigation. Her favors, exclusively offered to this organization resulted in moderate income, not exactly enough to be considered extravagant wealth and not too little to be scoffed at. She was still lower class. Amarilla usually spent it on necessities, but if she was feeling generous, she might buy a quality loaf of bread and a couple cheap fruits for the kids of the alley. Every popular performer has their roots somewhere.

She made her way quickly through the maze, zigzagging through until she met a smoke-smelling door, blackened at the edges and rusted at the hinges. She knocked in the formal rhythm -- the first few metronomic measures of her dancing music. The eye slit ricketed open with a hiss, and two slightly glowing eyes peered through.

"Ah, Mademoiselle D'Mond!" Hinges flake and creak; the door is opened for her. The Bureau had been waiting.
{498 Words}

[faraday]

Username: faraday
Name: Alethea (means- truthful)
Story:

wip!

[zaz]

mark/res with stealing from graves

[Wileyfangs]

"Diamonds and Pearls won't give you the world"






Username:
Eternal_Flame
Name:
Carico (car-ree-co)
Age: 25 years old
Gender: Female
Occupation: Famous dancer
Philosophy: Pessimistic opportunist





Story:
Beautiful. That's what they told her she was. Beautiful.
Her dances, beautiful. Her walk, beautiful. Her eyes, her face.
Beautiful.

She was invited to preform, time and time again at a palace of jesters. Of fools.
They laughed and they waved for her.
"Beauty, dear beauty won't you be mine?"
But she heard not, too enraptured by the music.
Too in awe of the songs.

Her body moved without her say, like a puppet led by invisible strings that said for her to dance,
on and on.

But when the parties were over and
her feet were long tired the jesters and jokers laughed behind her.
"Beauty oh beauty, how must it be? That you are not the girl I see."

'How is it,' she'd wonder, eyes narrowed in thought,
'that fools be so haughty, when they ought to have not.'

The illusion of beauty fell away for her.

The blossoms she passed went from dying to full bloom,
their petals surging back to life as her touch brushed against them,
fingertips having glided along silken soft petals.
Where she walked it was said that beauty followed her,
flowers rose in blossoms in plumes. Beauty it was called.

Carico saw no beauty.

Not when she returned from entertaining to her small residency,
a place crowded with girls all like herself,
an all girl's boarding school except for the poor.

Where was the beauty in that?

In these girls? Surely not.
They were all wretched, herself included.
All this for a few measly coins of gold and copper,
just for a place to sleep.

Now how was that beautiful?
Perhaps you think her a pessimist to which she'll counter
"Well who isn't? When all you get for your troubles is bread and the floor?"
At that she'd spat, "A Fool."

[300/500]