With the stars up above in your eyes...

2009-04-20T15:17:56Z

1. You must choose only ONE of your OCs. Do it again if you wanna use another OC.
2. Your OC must answer every question as truthfully as possible.
3. Title the journal as "OCs Quiz (your OC's name. Example: Kaiser's Quiz)".
4. When you're done, tag as many people as you want.
5. Have fun!!!

The woman is small and dainty; she lounges catlike upon the sofa, this amber-pale lady, with too-conscious nonchalance. She reminds you of a film actress in miniature: the same pout, the same flip of her bright hair, the same careless if not condescending attitude toward traditional Society. She's worn a translucent, pale-pink embroidered robe—fashionably Oriental; fashionably ten years too late for the fashion—and as the expanse of skin between her neck and breastbone suggests, nothing else.

1. Hi! What's your real name and nickname?
She twinkles. “Iulia Lisette Gently, formerly Silwyn, from a dead great-grandmother and an ancient family whose bones lie beneath millenia of soil, skeletons of fora asleep and just recently excavated from their microbial tombs—recently being relative of course, in the grand and unknowable scheme of Time. People know me as Jules.”

2. Interesting... what's your current age?
“I am poised in ephemeral existence somewhere between birth and death,” she says, with a charming smile. She knows full well how ridiculous she sounds. “Some eleven thousand days have passed since the occasion of my birth, although days are but some human construct—”

3. ...Okay... what's your favourite food?
“I rather enjoy oxygen, and canapes, and hors d’oeuvres, although of course there’s something to be said for nectar. I once ate octopus, which I do not believe the poor cephalopod enjoyed. Do octopodes have an afterlife?”

4. And your favourite drink?
“Champagne, darling.” She laughs, and she sips from her fluted crystal. “Always.”

5. Confession time! Who's your crush/lover?
“I make love to the very stars and on occasion, when I am feeling particularly pellucid, join their celestial revolutions.” A pause, somewhat awkward, as she searches for some semblance of truth to ease her gay, nonsensical mendacity. “I am a widowed star, to be sure, and the occasional comet plummets across my path.”

6. Aww! Have you two kissed yet?
“Comets, my darling,” she says, “are notoriously difficult to intercept.”

7. Classic question! What's your favourite colour?
“Winter sunset, when the clouds are particularly reminiscent of crushed opals. Mind, I do love the color of sunlight on glass, for which they haven’t yet invented a name—at least not that I know—but if I say ‘the entire spectrum from red to violet and everything in-between—even that space twixt the aforementioned bookends that nobody ever thinks to loop,’ yes, that shall suffice marvelously.”

8. Who's your favourite author?
“Don’t laugh,” she says, leaning in as though about to divulge some precious pearl of a secret, though you know—and she knows you know—that she will tell anyone who asks, “but I adore H.G. Wells and Edgar Rice Burroughs. H.P. Lovecraft, Robert Louis Stevenson, Jules Verne—did you know we have a family friend surnamed Verne? I always thought I ought to have married him—and anything that sparkles. Oh, and Spenser, I suppose,” she adds, a chirp of an afterthought.

9. Now what's your biggest fear?
“Tripods. Not the Mycenean kind, you understand; it’s the extra-terrestrials. Doubtless friendly sorts exist, but if there was ever a being with whom I could not make conversation—”

10. *stifles a giggle* I'm not laughing *bursts out laughing*
“Oh, go on,” she says, pleased. She downs the last of the liquid and holds the glass outstretched to the side. It will not spontaneously re-fill, no matter how fervently she hopes. “I’m lying, anyway.”

11. Awesome. Who's your hero?
“Tarzan—no, maybe Fogg or Aronnax. One can hope to hold her candle to invented people, but to measure myself against tangible greatness simply daunts my hitherto undented self-confidence. I hope you note the wordplay.” You do.

12. Okay, who is your worst enemy?
“Echthroi or polemioi?” She gives a lazy wink. “I fight the great foe of aesthetes everywhere: ennui.”

13. What would you do if your hero and your worst enemy got together?
“A battle,” she says, “a fabulous, long, and very metaphorical battle would ensue, I think, and I should enjoy cheering my dear Professor from the white tents whilst lounging upon a plush divan and drinking champagne from my beloved’s lips.” Her fingers, cupping the glass, twitch.

14. Interesting... what would you do if you met your creator?
“My creator? What indeed makes a creator? Heavens, I myself am a creator, I am the lovely Miss Puppeteer, I breathe life into my beauties and watch them flutter like winged gems, and I do believe I am quite in control. I suppose,” she says, and her voice floats, “I suppose you could mean God, although let’s not haul the dear thing into this mess. It has enough to occupy its time, scowling at the other deities as they muck up its beautiful chess board. I am a being of silk and spiderwebs and glass, you know,” she interjects. “Say what you like about molecules and atoms. Metaphors are more pure. I’m sorry, what was the question?” After the repeat, she nods and runs her fingertip over the rim of the glass. “Obviously I’d ask if it would like a drink.”

15. Okay, I'll contact them right now. Done! Now, what do you want to be when you grow up?
“I want to be a famous novelist.” She catches on “famous” and stretches the vowels like taffy. She laughs. “What’s all this rot about growing up, anyway? I’ll never ascend beyond the lofty height of five feet, two inches.”

16. What's your worst nightmare?
“It has already happened, my darling.” Bitterness hedges her laugh. “The supernova was exquisite.”

17. What's your lifelong dream?
“An endless disquiet of mind. Yes,” she says, “yes, I must hear the music of the spheres sometime before my end, they will fill my sad and empty little head with such poetry as ordinary humans cannot imagine. Oh, and I will live in a house with my dear friend Lizzie, and we shall drown in champagne—we’ll simply ooze when you poke us. I think it probably sounds like Handel,” she adds suddenly. “Wouldn’t that be boring.”

18. What would you do if your lifelong dream came true?
“A toast! To life, love, and a veritable wellspring of creative fluids.”

20. Last question! What do you spend most of your time doing?
She sweeps her arm across the room: threadbare sofa, Galileo thermometer, wastebasket full to the brim, underthings scattered. “This, darling. I write, I drink, I live in splendid sordid debauchery and glut myself on pleasure. Hedonism becomes me—almost as well as this robe.” Twinkle; wink.

21. We're done! Now tag whoever the hell you want.
She sips, forgetting her glass is empty. “You’re it.”

a symphony in white

With the stars up above in your eyes...