* 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 / 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐢. 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

     you are born amelia constance carter-harrington, in the fifteenth arrondissement of the city of lights, a minute prior to your twin brother. without your knowledge, the hyphenated last name printed on your birth certificate holds a weight comparable to the one of the world. maude and eleanor have each worked diligently for their joint name to matter, in a world that is not kind to women, especially ones who grow to love other women. one, in the realm of fashion, following in gabrielle ‘ coco ’ chanel’s footsteps, dashing suits and co-ords gracing her runways in paris, london, milan and new york. the other, dedicated to justice, the crash of a gavel in her favor slowly but surely having become music to her ears.

     you are persistent in your inquisitiveness from a young age, never satisfied or satiated by the answers given to you by nannies, teachers, classmates, friends, family members. the world works in ways that you either fail to understand or cannot help but fundamentally disagree with. from your ivory tower, clutching your silver spoon, you watch as others struggle through things that seem to come easily to you, and wonder how disparity exists so openly. you make a silent vow, alone in your room with your eyes gazing into the depths of the universe, to fight for those who weren’t afforded the same privileges as you. despite their lack of involvement in your life, you surmise that this is a goal you’ve inherited from your mothers.

     your life never seems to settle as you age, school after school adding their name to their roster, before quickly crossing it off. the stamps in your passport outnumber your childhood dreams, and you often wonder if it’d be more accurate to write in ‘ schengen area ’ when asked about your permanent residence. your brother remains your rock through it all, a best friend molded from the same clay as you were. your thoughts converge more often than people would like to give you both credit for, though you express them in different ways. you are the wild exuberance to his quiet reflection, the loud action to his muted strategy, the screams to his whispers. a perfect symbiotic balance that you both revel in.

     you find solace in coming to your uncle’s home in the summer, yearning for your recurring visits, which have become a semblance of stability in the hurricane that is your life. convinced secrets lie within its walls and dark corners, you and your brother explore, only to stumble upon the clue to the existence of something far bigger than the two of you at his alma mater. the name strathmore university stays etched in your minds for years to come.

     you’re faced with a decision: to finally allow yourself to experience stability and choose la sorbonne, an apartment in paris and daily walks along the seine, or to follow your brother, to an elite british school, whose name still echoes in the confines of your psyche. security be damned, you pack your bags and decide on yet another move, peppered with doubts, but comforted by your other half’s presence. though embraced by the institutions cold, stone walls, your last name is whispered across classrooms, dormitories and quiet streets. you are reminded of its weight, of its meaning. for a while, it almost seems like too heavy of a cross to bear. after all, there is nothing noteworthy in your past to warrant admirers or adversaries. nothing that would inspire a biography, a statue or even a mere plaque.

     yet, you find yourself opening your door to a matching set of individuals in animal masks and silk ties, a card in hand. the dots left behind in your mind from your uncle’s home connect and suddenly, you find yourself gliding through campus grounds in heels and a dress, already envisioning what awaits you in the greenhouse. the rest is, of course, history, as you join a lineage of individuals dedicated whose sole missions is to make each moment count. with lives as short as theirs and yours, no measure of time can be wasted.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.

     when thinking of amelia, the following images should always come to mind: furrowed brows at the subtlest exclusionary comment, long sparkling wine-driven rants on rooftops, hair held up by pencils due to a constant lack of hair ties, laughter punctuated by slight snorts and loud enough to be audible from the other end of a hallway,

     she was chosen by her predecessor to become an amethyst because of her hunger for life and her determination to eliminate the status quo. those who spend enough time around her are quick to realize that there’s never a dull moment when you’re around her, whether it’s because of another cause she’s desperate to fight for, a party she’s desperate to attend, a lecture she’s desperate to derail, a joke she’s desperate to tell, or a prank she’s desperate to play. amelia lives as if each moment might be her last, determined to leave a lasting mark on those around her ( and this planet better than she found it ).

      she’s formed her own interests over time, and revels in the idea of liking what she likes, no matter what others might think. she’s always valued originality, both in herself and in others. seeking approval on a constant basis seems exhausting to her. the key to her heart is compassion for others, blended with a healthy dose of humor and an ability to bake ( or buy the right baked goods ). you’ll make her sink to her knees if you’re able to keep a genuine conversation up about the importance of casting a vote, global inequality and inequity, sustainability, why ‘ girlboss feminism ’ is a joke, socialism and the lack of ethics in the fashion industry.

     a few fun facts: she has a little chili tattoo ( like this one ) on the inside of her wrist to remind her to stay spicy and keep her fire alive ( that’s what she tells people, but really she just got it because it looked fun ). she’s fluent in french and, whenever asked to speak french by a boy, will just tell them a bad dad joke rather than something sultry. her favorite pastry is kouign-amann, partly because it’s delicious and also partly because it’s known as the ‘ fattiest pastry in europe, ’ which amelia finds hilarious. she was banned from model united nations at age twelve after making another student cry when debunking the entire speech they made on behalf of their country ( the people’s republic of china deserved to know about its less than stellar track record when it comes to human rights ). her godmother is french designer isabel marant, who is a close friend of her two mothers.

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲.

     talking about amelia without going into length about the society, would be like talking about france and not mentioning la tour eiffel. it’s been the perfect carrot, dangled in front of amelia’s eyes since the first discovered a hint at its existence in her uncle’s study. 

     when it comes to the prodigies, and securing her vote and interest, amelia always looks for individuals who will shape the society for the better. the branches of each gem’s family tree are already weighed down with wealthy, well-connected individuals, issued from powerful european families. in her mind, it’s time for those branches to grow a far larger variety of fruits, to embrace diversity of identity, of experience, of thought. her attention is drawn to individuals with compelling stories, interesting thoughts and the courage to have an opinion that diverges from the norm.

     tasks she drafts are often focused on a blend of intellect and brawn. she likes making people solve riddles, all whilst proving that they can withstand a physical challenge. a pinch of humor is another signature move of hers, and any task that requires one to think differently and embrace ridicule can often be traced back to her.

𝐢𝐯. 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.

     amelia ft. her predecessor ( hugo leighton, npc ) — the echo of her last name bounces across campus bashfully, a trail of rumors, opinions and whispers in its wake. something that catches her predecessor’s eye, out of curiosity rather than awe or interest. it takes a while for them to truly see amelia’s potential, her true colors, and what lies behind the image her reputation has crafted for her. eventually, an invitation is issued and both parties finally meet. it’s with each remark she makes, each motion she challenges, and each idea she disagrees with that her predecessor confirms their choice, sensing that their prodigy will breathe new air into the society.

     amelia ft. her diadem ( poppy nighmore, npc ) — she’s always admired poppy’s optimism, the way she glides through life with a smile and enough kindness to make everyone feel welcome. she was a leader from the get-go in their circlet, motivating her fellow prodigies and asking all the questions others were too reserved to dare speak out. the two found common ground in long, philosophical discussions, usually in the manor’s kitchen, whilst digging their spoons into a shared pint of ice-cream. the world seemed to slow in those moments, giving them a respite from the other burdens peppered through their days. so, to say she misses her diadem is an understatement, a vast one.

     amelia ft. her prodigy ( georgia palmer ) — she’s thought up way to shake up the archaic, predominantly white, elite-focused society for a while, listing them all in the margins of various leather-bound journals. suddenly, it dawns on her: her prodigy, the next link to be added in the long chain that is the amethyst lineage. they’re an opportunity to steer her legacy and the future of the opal society in a manner that is more representative of strathmore’s student body. it takes her a while to find a kindred spirit, someone with enough grit and drive to challenge what is put in front of them. it’s when she sees the viral video that everything falls into place and that she submits her successor to the pre-invitation vote.

     amelia ft. her secret relationship ( rhys taylor ) — they caught her eye at the welcome party, after the two of them were invited by their predecessors and initiated into their individual lineages. neither of them are looking for a relationship ( or whatever this might be ) to become front page news, or to become the new topic of discussion within the walls of the manor ( especially with poppy’s disappearance looming over their heads ). so, they’ve chosen to keep it a secret and to master the art of subtlety. picture a regular covert rendez-vous, texts in the midst of society meetings, feigned interest in others to keep the scent off of their tryst, and white lies to close friends.

     amelia ft. her platonic other half ( rose morrison ) — both are rarely seen without each other and many convinced they are two are physical extensions of each other. they’ve shared all of their firsts within the society and have witnessed each other’s growth from bright-eyed second years, to weathered third years. experiencing everything in tandem means seeing parts of the other that usually stay hidden, and have led to the two developing a sense of comfort around the other that they’ve rarely felt with others.

     amelia ft. her polar opposite ( open ) — they’ll never see eye to eye, and have both happily accepted that fact. their ideals are on opposite ends of the spectrum, and their visions of where the society should land could not more different. cat fights and vulgar insults are beneath both, but eye rolls, heated debates and witty takedowns are still fair game. all within the society know not to bring up politics, the state of the planet and ideal legacies around them, because a disagreement is sure to be sparked. 

    amelia ft. her lost friend ( open ) — they were close, once. in a way that no fellow circlet members or new prodigies could even dream about. it seemed like their friendship would outlast everything and weather all storms headed its way. until it didn’t, and things eroded far too quickly for either of them to stop it from happening. now, all that’s left are vacant glances through the hallways of the mansion and polite head nods, on a good day. does she think about them and how things used to be ? of course, daily.

     amelia ft. her one night stand ( open ) — parties at the mansion are legendary, with rivers of expensive european alcohol and, usually, very few memories the following morning. unless society members awake next to a fellow circlet member, whose presence and lack of clothing offer all the insight needed into what happened the night before. these two have firsthand accounts of what the other looks like hungover, their hair a mess of knots and glitter particles, with a mostly empty bottle of dom perignon serving as a decoration on their nightstand. have they told fellow society members about their endeavors ? are they ashamed ? only plotting will tell !