#𝖑ap𝖊r𝖑ina ˖﹒ ita𝖑ian ⁑ the 𝖑itt𝖑𝖊 𝕻ear𝖑 🌈𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🧚🏻♀️ an origina𝖑 character adapted from the 𝖑itt𝖑e 𝕸ermaid, inspired by su perisi, the water fairies of Turkic folkore, horror ⅋ dark fantasy genres, ⅋ Goth𝔦c 𝖑iterature ˖﹒ 𝓔st. 2012. 𝒲ritten by 𝒜qssa ( she / her, 30+, desi ).
i'll tell you a tale . . . of the bottomless 𝕭lue, of a girl hatched from a pearl -- of polliwog pipe dreams, too. Of lusters that wither, of evils that bite . . . of rumors of things that go bump in the night.
🌈 ♡ 𝒒𝒖𝔦𝒄𝒌 b𝔦ts𓂃﹒˖
𝒊. i am primarily interested in building long-term partnerships, plots, and threads over casual, one-off ones. no timeline / limits, i am slower myself lately as i am juggling a lot of responsibilities. just mutual effort and understanding that we’re here to create something that lasts.
𝒊𝒊. this is a deeply lore-based original character and i highly prioritize plot-based threads / character dynamics. if you approach me asking for plots or a thread, at minimum, i expect that you have read the material (rules + basic stuff + interaction guide) on my carrd and have your own ideas. i always do this for my partners! i also have an info blog @pearlywog for deeper details that will allow for more guided plot discussions, meaningful interactions, and stronger dynamics.
𝒊𝒊𝒊. adella is not a mermaid or siren, but a kindred fey creature called a su perisi. they're mythical water fairies from turkic regions that i've built my own biology, origin story, magic system, etc. around. it all came from my brain. so don't be boring and lift any of it. i will notice.
𝒊𝒗. adella is a chaotic evil character, a villain, and this blog is rated r. frequent themes and motifs include horror, violence, and death. all mature content will be tagged as ' ____ tw '.
𝒗. i always try to interact ooc and ic as much as i can, but i'm way more than the person you see briefly online. please don't follow if you will make assumptions about me, my availability, energy levels, interest, or experiences on my dash without communication.
𝒗𝒊. while you're here, if you can, please consider donating to palestine.
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sorry i haven't writing too much or dming plot stuff lately folks. on top of Locking In on my carrd revamp the lack couple days, i been dealing with rly mystery bout of hives :(( that apparently aren't related to environmental stuff and more prolly immune system stuff (not concerning at all ... lmao ...). been running around doctors for the last few wks, doing bloodwork, and on top of that dealing w the huuuuuge physical and mental fatigue that comes from your histamines being shot constantly.
i been starting to get a bit more clarity back through the brain fog lately compared to before while i sort this all out -- and am back to writing !! if you want me to pick up / prioritize a particular thread you're excited abt lmk w a msg cuz if not i'll just go based off how long the drafts been there + vibes !!!! thank you for your patience and bearing with this brief quietness on laperlina FM !!! i love you ALL !!!
Ding! Jesus. Can't Marzanna let anything go? Grace sighs. His hair, raked through with approximately ten-thousand 'this may be the worst text I've ever received, and no, I can't and won't explain to you the reason why that is' frustrated comb-throughs, sticks in haphazard angles as he sips his beer. Yes. As he sips his beer on his sofa on his lonesome. On his lonesome in his apartment. In his apartment without her.
[Marzanna 🐟🍬💞]: are you seriously suggesting i help you run some sort of experiment on your love life?
[Marzanna 🐟🍬💞]: isn't this your fifth date in so many months?
[Marzanna 🐟🍬💞]: i think we've collected enough evidence. i've observed, and i've analyzed the data, marzanna! here's the conclusion: you're lovesick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[Marzanna 🐟🍬💞]: no offense.
His phone is thrown beside him. Great. He better not see her name come up again (with the emojis she herself curated, thank you).
Marzanna is such a goddamn liar. You need a wingman, miss low anxiety, no anxiety, got no trouble batting your lashes for a few free drinks, Marzi? Yeah. Okay. Okay and alas, the heart, soaked in vodka, wants what it wants. And what it wants right now is companionship in the form of her very dear friend -- not the guy currently hanging over her shoulder like Peter Pan's shadow; he is very cute, to be fair, that txt msg wasn't a lie ... but he is ... decidedly un-Gracelike -- his hair's too neatly combed, his vision's too twenty-twenty -- and that's kinda, sorta, exactly the problem.
The world around her is stuck on 14 frames per second. Barely audible, too. Through the fog of her inebriation, clinging to this strange, pride-shielding charade that is doing so very little, actually, to divert her attentions away from the true etiology of her lovesickness, Marzanna squints -- hard. Summons the courage part of her liquid courage, and makes sure her name props up on his phone again.
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : yes offense
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : all offense
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : im crying
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : now
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : 5 dates 1 month
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : you are counting?
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : you should come now. seriously this time
[ ➵ raychik 👽⭐ ] : becaseu you made me cry
She is tearless, but that is neither here nor there. Not-Grace chirps, conversationally, ❝ That's your boyfriend? ❞ As if it's not worthy enough of a deterrent.
❝ Boyfriend ? ❞ She clicks her phone shut. 13 fps now. Lucky number. ❝ Yuck ... I wish. ❞
i've compleeeeeetely overhauled my carrd. it's why i've been kinda quiet these last couple days !! whether you're new here or been here since the beginning, pls pls pls review when you can ~ ~ cuz it's got:
new graphics, new layout, new colors, everything !! to suit my whole y2k, old barbie websites, lisa franky, fairytale acid trip @ sea aesthetic thing i got going on.
every page rewritten !!! rules, adella's dossier (which now includes a sparknotes ver. of all her magical abilities), story / cosmology (+ sparknotes version for that too), verses (with links to pin boards + playlists). i also fully rewrote her interaction guide to be more comprehensive, and clear, and full of ideas to make plotting / ideas go way faster (and also so i don't have to keep repeating basic information skdms) !!! there's a cheat sheet with settings and plot hook idea for main verse AND modern verse. plssssssss read this last one especially once you get the chance, especially if we don't have a plot already going.
most importantly, it features as its header img a BEAAAAAAAAAAUTIFUL commission of adella -- my first ever one !! -- that my dear friend hien @sluaghter got me for my birthday !! i'll post the full when the final details are done ... but i can't tell you enough how happy it makes me looking at a character i've had for 14 yrs come to life in this way. hien is truly an angel. ; o ;
come play around !! here's a sneak peek:
+ special shoutout tooooo @heliosphage for reading and vetting every single page and catching the tiniest typos @koschyei for dealing with my yapping as always @queenrumi who thought, when i was asking her to check my carrd, thought that i meant for her to give me her CREDIT CARD INFORMATION ??? and she asked 0 questions and started scrambling to get it for me ??? (true ride or die sdkm) and @jimseung. <3
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i've compleeeeeetely overhauled my carrd. it's why i've been kinda quiet these last couple days !! whether you're new here or been here since the beginning, pls pls pls review when you can ~ ~ cuz it's got:
new graphics, new layout, new colors, everything !! to suit my whole y2k, old barbie websites, lisa franky, fairytale acid trip @ sea aesthetic thing i got going on.
every page rewritten !!! rules, adella's dossier (which now includes a sparknotes ver. of all her magical abilities), story / cosmology (+ sparknotes version for that too), verses (with links to pin boards + playlists). i also fully rewrote her interaction guide to be more comprehensive, and clear, and full of ideas to make plotting / ideas go way faster (and also so i don't have to keep repeating basic information skdms) !!! there's a cheat sheet with settings and plot hook idea for main verse AND modern verse. plssssssss read this last one especially once you get the chance, especially if we don't have a plot already going.
most importantly, it features as its header img a BEAAAAAAAAAAUTIFUL commission of adella -- my first ever one !! -- that my dear friend hien @sluaghter got me for my birthday !! i'll post the full when the final details are done ... but i can't tell you enough how happy it makes me looking at a character i've had for 14 yrs come to life in this way. hien is truly an angel. ; o ;
come play around !! here's a sneak peek:
+ special shoutout tooooo @heliosphage for reading and vetting every single page and catching the tiniest typos @koschyei for dealing with my yapping as always @queenrumi who thought, when i was asking her to check my carrd, thought that i meant for her to give me her CREDIT CARD INFORMATION ??? and she asked 0 questions and started scrambling to get it for me ??? (true ride or die sdkm) and @jimseung. <3
i havent sketched / drawn this much in a WHILE and i'm pretty sure it's cuz my allergies have been CRAZY and it's been making me too sleepy and foggy and drawing is easier than writing when my brain is slow ...
anyway here i am with more adelinky face / body study stuff. and i been forcing myself to "color" more so we got that going for me through the horrifying ordeal that is drawing :3
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Yes. Everyone loves dogs. Everyone loves how they come to heel when asked for or how they spin and shake your hand with the promise of a treat. But the thing is, her little dog is a little bit faulty, isn't he?
Why does Fido have a stinger?
His boss looks right at him like he's playing her game.
A pair of heels begin to clack. "Come on, babysitter." The voice -- it's silky, alluring in a way he has no register for. "Let her hang out with the girls for another hour... Or join us? We can make it fun. We can raise the stakes."
Driver doesn't say anything. He feels their eyes on him, eyes that have tempted the belts off of weaker men, that believe him such a man, and feels all his tendons ready like a switchblade.
He waits. Little swayed, he stares precisely at his boss, at dreamtime Barbie, their sin city primadonna, and says nothing. He doesn't need to say anything. He offers the blonde girl, the sweet thing, the appearances woman that'd drive the tainted beasts of this city mad nothing, not for all the ways her tongue rolls serpentine. Driver stands in the curl of his boss' cigarette smoke, her sticky gaze, and her hair like black-out L.A. It's not a trick of the mind: he feels forced around her finger.
"I don't gamble."
That's a lie. Risks is why he's here. Risks define him. He thinks she knows that. She doesn't fall for his stunted soft boy facade, thin like the skin beneath her eyes.
𝓨𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒈, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒅𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝓢𝒕𝒚𝒙 -- what can't he do? As Circe's nymphs and housebroken beasts of the menagerie commit to their crooning, Marzanna watches him carefully, closely, during what can only be described as the world's most surrealist performance evaluation. The backlights from the stage are cheap grape-soda purple -- fizzy, too -- and the music, spiked with a couple extra shots of bass, assaults the fragile membranes of the brain. Not exactly what you'd call an HR-approved setting. But he can't adapt, can't he? Maintain professionalism and calm in the fever-dreamiest of scenarios?
It's partly why she hired him in the first place.
❝ That's so freaky. Me too. ❞ Says Marzanna, catching his lie, grinning around the cigarette clamped between her teeth. The smoke flowers into fuchsia firecracker flares. ❝ I also go to church every Sunday, and I'm saving myself for marriage. ❞
The redhead, taking her cue, chimes in: ❝ Come onnn -- it's not like we're playing baby stuff or anything. It's fun. It's Russian Roulette. ❞
Indeed, littered across the table is a rather adult array of collateral. Crumply, glittery, fat wads of cash, dubiously labeled prescription meds, a single live bullet, deeds to houses, signed permissions to steal their firstborn sons, sealed envelopes containing the precise dates of their deaths, and so on and so forth. Marzanna nods to the seat right across her, the only vacant one remaining.
something about duncan and adella's modern relationship being duncan still owing adella but he owes her because he keeps dragging her places he has to go to because he doesn't know anyone there and he's scared </3
❝ Do I look like an emotional service animal? ❞ Emotional support animal? Service dog? Whatever. Good enough. She holds his maaaaassive face between her palms, turning his head from side to side, and the sight of them coupled here like this is altogether very funny. And unlikely. It's as though Jupiter and a fey speck of comet dust decided to tumble into orbit together, you see -- and it's left the entire scientific community, as well as the student body on campus, utterly baffled. ❝ Why are you scared? Look at your size. If someone wants to laugh at you ... cough in their direction. And they will fall, and die. Do you understand? ❞ She rattles his head again. Like a pepper shaker. ❝ Are you hearing my advice? ❞
❝ Meatheads will be meatheads, ❞ Marzanna nods. She learned that word from the American television channel growing up, and now, finally living in the star-spangled land of hopes, dreams, and aspartame, she uses it way too much.
They're sat on the bleachers like female birds watching the males puff up their feathers, flex, and ... do whatever the fuck they're doing. The jocks on the field battle for the title of who looks most impressive to the new girl from Kazakhstan, trying to catch her eye every now and then between sets, a few more pathetically than others. And somewhere, off in the distance, David Attenborough is narrating the whole thing.
Watching, she hands Miriam back her be-stickered water bottle, hovering the lip of it close to her mouth so she could take her next sip. ❝ Which one is your type? Or, say, if you had to pick which one you would like to ... crack you?, have you cracked?, which would it be? ❞
❝ Are you bitter about this -- the single thing? ❞ Her vowels cling together, like peach flesh and honey, or salt and tequila, which might mean that Marzanna, by contrast, does not need another drink. ❝ There is a simple way to fix this -- go make out with someone. Not me, though. Me -- I am spoken for. ❞ The tip of her twiggy finger taps the lip of her solo cup. Then she nods, too solemnly, and hiccups. ❝ By a man who goes by the name of ... two more drinks. ❞
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Grace hears her question, and all he's got stockpiled in response is, "I don't know. I can't exactly see through doors." And, sure, it makes sense when you think about it, think about it with the depth you're like to find at end of a kiddie pool, but what of deeper? What if Marzanna took an augur and aimed right to the heart of it? And ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk! Or pow, pow, pow?! Truth is, Mrs. Sue Fitzgerald -- Yes. Mrs. Her late-husband has been cavorting with angels for the past six years, but she's managing; she's got Bridge with the girls and Alex Trebek -- would have found herself despairingly bored. After all, their Ryland's no firecracker, is not the powder keg of drama like what had sparked in Sarajevo, so what does a bachelor go and get to when the school day tapers? Well. It's comfortable. Life since she'd left has been comfortable.
(Too comfortable. Safe. His furnishings are tidy. Simple. A cursory glance will show that the most risky thing he's got are his count of printed t-shirts and some very nuked tuna. He isn't trying to be twitchy, honestly, but it's a bit difficult to settle when Marzanna shows back up like the zap of a wire. When she'd left, he had been on the precipice of something, a scientist with a mind and an aptitude for queries, but now? Now he's a teacher. Who lives in a shoebox. And they'd dated. And now, she's invited to lead at forums, and he's sat in study hall.)
(In short: stood before her, he must seem a crazy disappointment.)
"I say tomato, you say tomahto." And it's a lot. Grace doesn't say that she can sit, but the perk of his brows suggests what his words wouldn't. At least the sofa's nice -- a steal off Facebook Marketplace. "I think the way these things go is I ask the question," he reminds, "you answer, and then we swap and do it all over." But what does it matter? He's no PhD in girl-brain-ology! And he isn't sure that he's sure! But, oh, fudger, the knowledge that it's possible... (He's a boy in his bed, shaking. 'Is someone there?')
Right. So. What if she did just that? Plant it like some sleeper agent, some sort of inconspicuous 'I'll see you later?' (courtesy of her Eastern roots, per Hollywood's spy era). He comes over just as that pinwheel goes round and round. "Oh. Okay. I do have it." Oops. It's the copy he got her. It'd been tucked away in the labyrinth of his shelves, and he hadn't even realized. On the front page yet reads: To Marzanna: Four years down, another four to go! -- Ryland. He's reading it. "...Just. It's a pretty common find to come all this way for."
𝓐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝓖𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝓖𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝓟𝒂𝒔𝒕 ? A pale-skinned, black-haired memory phantom come to remind you of the world and life you not only left behind, but scorch-earthed, so that no one, nothing, not even the temptation to look back, could come and find you again? Yeah. No wonder he's twitchy. One look around every cozy square inch, and Marzanna can already extract a solid hypothesis. He curates his living space and lifestyle both with the goal of being as unchallenging as possible. The nuked tuna and Mrs. Potluck Sue Fitzgerald's ear at the door are about as terrifying as his world gets. The floor will only ever metaphorically be lava, and so on and so forth.
Which is fiiiiine. Don't dream of labor, and certainly not on Marzanna's account. Still, when she holds this version of him up against Grace from undergrad, Grace the emerging Doctor of Philosophy -- something isn't quite adding up. The nature of their field is uncomfortable, unsure, and demands of those who study it a perpetual dissatisfaction with things as they are. And didn't he always have the best character of them all for it? Now -- what? -- suddenly that spark, that curiosity, that willingness to break the rules and aim for unimaginable -- that's all gone?
Can a person really change who they are by that much?
❝ Fine, I will answer. ❞ She blows on the pinwheel, idly, but smiles into it, as if to suggest that she's about to -- well. Lie. ❝ Yes, Grace, I am Cinderella, my book is the slipper, and I left it here on purpose. I was hoping that it would make you think day and night about where we left off. And then you run around the kingdom of San Francisco to find me. And then we would talk, and become friends again. But look, you didn't even remember that you had it, and I had to put my actual foot in the door anyway. ❞ He comes over, her smile not yet faded. ❝ Shit plan of mine. ❞
She reaches absently for the book, brushing his hand, catching his sleeve, then tugging at it. ❝ I prefer a visit to an old friend over a trip to Barnes and Noble. Is that so weird? ❞
I ask, you answer, then we swap and do it all over.
