OOC: Application
Player's name/nickname: Chaos or Kristen/Kris
Player LJ: chaos_xenomorph
Way to contact you:
E-mail? topaz@mindless.com or Beloved-Belial@hotmail.com or FrostMarionette@thegame.com
MSN? Beloved-Belial@hotmail.com
AIM? Nibi Tango or Frost Marionette
Are you at least 17? 18 to be precise.

Character's name: Tayuya
Sexuality of your character? Asexual for the most part, but she has omnisexual tendencies.
Character's personality: Tayuya is a bright young woman with a limited patience. And that mouth of hers… what a disaster. But what can one expect from an orphan without a woman’s influence in her short lived life? The fiery tempered redhead is a rock star, or so she likes to tell herself. She has an image to uphold. All anger and dripping with domineering sexuality.
PB for your character?: Marimoon
Character's age? 23


Prompt: C. Comfort – in this short we shall be cutting into the middle of some pretty scene. Fun, fun.

Legs were crossed as the redhead leaned against a large worn high back chair. The deep red upholstery was coming apart at the seams. Torn and weathered from age and abuse. But she loved the chair. It stood out in her sparse apartment. In the too large living room/part time bedroom. Hands held her float high. Warm lips hovering over the gently carved mouthpiece. Ginger locks curled down her back, over thin frail shoulders. Was she another Lady of Shallot? A woman sealed within a tower high, cursed to weave forever on until the day she chooses death. To leave her tower be, forget the weaving. Would she dare carve her name into a boat and float down the river to Camelot? Death take her know, the woman would swear.

But fantasy and reality are as separate as night and day. Tayuya wasn’t stupid enough to believe herself to portray her life as the woman in the poem. She was no Lady of Shallot. That lock, these walls, they would keep her no more than she allowed… but for now the music held her. Held the scantly clad orphan in a hug of a mother long forgotten- if recalled at all. Long dark lashes coated heavily in mascara left shadows to mingle with the smudged eyeliner. Pink blush was fading with the evening sun. Every minute was taken away by a breath. The whisper of lips upon the warmed woodwind instrument.

Somewhere in time she could recall a man’s voice whispering her name. Warm hands cupping her own as she played. Leading her on into the daze. The musical high. All those dizzying notes. The warm touches. Breath hitching. Cries for something she could no longer recall. Brows, as well taken care of as one who cared little for such features, knitted together. Tayuya couldn’t explain the budding warmth that such memories brought about. Couldn’t understand why she was… at peace.

Yes, at peace with memories. With the music. The sun’s warm rays caressing her back and the high back chair that had been his. That now was hers. This, this was the best thing she had. Her only comfort in this rough world.