#hellheiress

the dance number is also way more charlastor-y in the final product than the storyboards showed.

( STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM

NOW WE’RE HERE )

‘ aww , hon . I ... wouldn’t be opposed to going out , it HAS been a while since we’re so busy now . ’

            It manifested by his left boot, the feeble warbling of a tiny, tragic bluebird. His gaze fell from the dust being shaken from the ceiling by the barrage of self-proclaimed ‘ holy ‘ war ( an oxymoron if ever one had existed ) -- down to the petrified little fawn curled in upon herself, face buried in her knees as she huddled beneath the bar top ; so lovely in her devastation, so acutely terrified by the prospect that her barriers would not hold against the heavenly armies. It seemed that naivety was etched into the very marrow of her bones -- not only had Hell practically laughed her clear out of the pentagram for her girlish, idealistic prospects of ‘ redemption, ‘ but it appeared that Heaven had taken no more kindly to the notion of being obligated to take in damaged goods, or dirtied souls. But while Hell had attacked the optimistic princess with verbal barbs and mocking guffaws, Heaven attacked with fire and cutlass. And while Hell was content to simply ignore the hotel, or brush it off as a sad but amusing little pipe-dream ...Heaven had resolved to see it erased entirely. 

            The deafening sound of impact from above draws his attention once more, a cursory glance passed above them just in time to watch the wood fracture and splinter. -- this building wasn’t going to hold up much longer, even with the infernal provisos she had placed liberally upon it. Scleral gaze narrows and swivels to the grandfather clock in the rear of the foyer, its ominous ticking lost beneath the pandemonium of the purge outside. 11:58 pm. -- the corners of his perpetual grin crawl insidiously up his cheekbones, maw dripping with an unsettling and barely contained   excitement.   Long, unearthly claws masquerading as fingers beneath rouge gloves suddenly find purchase around the gaunt, trembling shoulders of the weathered girl, hoisting her forcefully up onto her feet and beneath the looming, yellow glow of his feral gaze.

            ❝ –  S M I L E , my dear!! What’s the use of crying? After all, it’s New Year’s Eve! A time for new beginnings and fresh starts! A time for celebration! And JUST LISTEN!! Can’t you hear it?? That crowd out there is absolutely insatiable! Why, my dear Charlie -- you can’t cry now! Not before I’ve given -- my performance !! ❞

            The passionate declaration is punctuated by the sudden tolling of the grandfather clock ; while its steady ticking may have been lost in the orchestra of extermination, the deep peal of its poignant acknowledgement of midnight’s timely arrival moved through the floorboards and up against their spines. Scleral rouge gaze lids, and the world in Charlie’s view is slowly ensconced in a veil of black and crimson as he bends down to enshroud her completely.  

            ❝ – Happy New Year ...darling. ❞ He murmurs, the warmth of his breath washing over her trembling lips before they’re coveted by his own. The gesture is brief, but poignant ; a different, more heartfelt tradition for this holiday than the purge of surplus population -- but even this is ultimately marred by violence, punctuated by the sharp and unforgiving laceration of jagged teeth against her lower lip. He draws back with her blood -- royal blood -- sticking to his grinning teeth ; even such an inadmissible amount would be enough to fortify and fuel his voodoo devilry and divination to a degree which even he may not yet fully comprehend. Clawed constraint is released from her shoulders, attenuated form turning on booted heel with a flourish, gloved fingers wrapped around his microphone as he marches headlong toward the front door.

            ❝ – AND NOW!! The time has finally come! My New Year’s Eve broadcast is at hand! So down descendeth the harbinger of heavenly cleanse! Up, UP with the fireworks !! ❞ Yanking back the french doors of the entry way, the wind barreled through the aperture with a howling screech, tearing at his mad, grinning cheeks and whipping back the coat tails of his suit jacket. Arms thrown out   w i d e   in welcome of the impending violence, a hum of static feedback slowly swells to overtake the tumultuous bedlam of bloodshed, and the pupils of his gaze flicker and   f a d e   back into eerie, glowing amber, his irises replaced by wildly spinning radio dials. 

                                          ❝ – and  on̼̹͖̠̤̝̖ ͎w͙̤i̭̫̥t̸̳̜͉̰͔͈͉h͔̖̻̙̺͎͞ ̬͈̳̫̞͕t͓h͢e͓ ̧͍̘͔̣̗͔̩s͎͓̗͠ho͓̗͜w͎̘̖̜̤͓̤ . . . ! !  ❞

                           -- and with a resounding slam, the doors are blown shut behind him.

send CONFESS and niffty will confess something about herself. 

she doesn’t... really experience fear. she understands power, and abilities and who can drag her through the dirt for a year or not but it never connects to fear. she’s the drunk friend who suddenly isn’t afraid of anything, except she’s not drunk, she’s just unafraid. 

meeting lucifer, alastor, anyone with high ranking hardly phases her. she made friends with alastor. she collects powerful people like kindergarten friends. through no supernatural ability of her own, niffty just inevitably makes people fall in love with her. perhaps her height and how childish she can be is the cause, thus making her feel safe, but no matter the situation, niffty has never felt fear. 

she doesn’t flaunt it in the slightest, because it’s not something that she makes her particularly exceptional. her grin remains, her pupils react, but her hands never tremble. 

THE HUMAN CONDITION   /   accepting  ;   @hellheiress​​

     ❛  i’ve been trying to keep up with all of these great expectations ,  so i keep faking  ❜

       𝑨 𝑺𝑾𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻  and how sweet the sorrow ,   how bitter the memory .     of not knowing ,   of improvising and pretending she was okay ,   when she had only been princess for a night and woke a queen .     of a nightmare within a dream ,   of being woken and crowned ,   of confusion and loss ,   of feeling the disappointment she instilled in others .     of becoming ruler despite the protest and the insecurities that hadn’t quite faded ,   of feeling not quite good enough 

and thus fades the facade ,   the cool demeanour borrowed from false queen maleficent to persevere in the face of reluctance and disrespect .     oh ,   she should remember that charlie ,   sweet charlie ,   is a demon ,   and her affair with the wicked fae and her tricks and demons should have ingrained a reluctance to even be in her presence .     she should attempt to kill the girl ,   or order one of her guards to ,   or stand at least 50 paces from her being just to be safe ,   but she doesn’t .     instead ,   she sits close ,   gentle like budding dawn and rose petals ,   and she is not scared

charlie ,   despite the nature of her kin ,   exudes warmth and something familiar .     queen aurora looks at the demoness and doesn’t see monster but some reflection of herself ,   the girl she used to be   /   the girl she ,   in part ,   still is  :   this uncertain creature ,   with sunshine beneath her skin ,   and darkness somewhere deeper .     the insecurities must fester like rot and vines ,   coiled around her heart and pulled taut ,   and how twisted the shadow of her heart must be  :   would this girl ,   if she had to ,   survive the confrontation ?

It’s adorable, really; and she’s definitely amused. But, not in any sort of malicious way. Her smile should, hopefully, be reassuring at least, despite the glint of mischief in her eyes as she reaches out — and pulls the demon down by the bowtie, so they’re more eye level. “ Do you know that you’re all /red/? ” Innocent.

Oh dear. Something about the directness of it, the confidence. Definitely inspires a fresh burst of warmth across his face, the Radio Demon beholding the princess rather like a deer in the headlights.