In Which an Application is Accepted
Character: Alexia Tarabotti, spoiler: [the Lady Maccon, Mujah and advisor to the Queen]
Series: The Parasol Protectorate
Character Age: 28
Job: Foreign Diplomat and Liaison from the British Empire to the Americas
Canon: Take vampires, werewolves, and ghosts (oh my!), drop them into Victorian England. Twist history until you come up with something appropriately steampunk. Add to the mix one woman whose touch has the power to briefly negate the supernatural condition. Now shake, and watch as she takes tea at midnight, seeks out scientific corruption no matter what back parlour it may be lurking in, and whacks the upper crust of supernatural society over the head with her oversized parasol.
Alexia is that woman. She was born without a soul, which explains her ability to cancel out the excess spirit that leads to supernatural manifestations after death, meaning that she can exorcise ghosts and make vampires and werewolves mortal while in direct contact with them. (Sorry zombies, but you don’t exist in this universe.) In personality, Alexia’s “preternatural” state makes her unusually pragmatic, capable of focusing on the facts even in the face of grave danger or times of emotional distress. She adds to this her own distinctly headstrong tendencies and a keen (not to say meddlesome) interest in the world around her, be it scientific or social, so long as it is not of the norm. Although this makes her a little blunt and sometimes scandalously forward by the measure of a Victorian society, it should be said that soullessness in no way reflects on Alexia’s morals. She is, after all, British before anything.
Sample Post:
Supernaturals of Louisiana, thank you for your excessively kind welcome. I can see that you’ve made every attempt to make me feel at home. While it might be worthwhile to mention that the phrase High Tea is not actually a reference to table elevation, and that fingers sandwiches are not a literal concept, I’m still extremely impressed with your rendition of the beverage itself. To be frank, it is more than I expected. After all, you are American, and concessions must be given.
Pardon my bluntness, I meant no disrespect. But while we are on the subject, I simply have to ask. While I’ve heard much about your native country’s backwards views on the supernatural, I would never have believed that local convention could force a ghost to take up residence in his or her own mortal remains. In point of fact, I wasn’t aware that ghosts could do that at all. Isn’t it dreadfully mushy? You don’t appear to have been preserved in any way. Surely arsenical salts are available here? Or that new liquid, what was it called again? Ah yes, formaldehyde. I shall be making inquiries for you post-haste. Though really, it won’t solve your underlying problem, which is that being stuck back into your body after death can only be compared to being forced to wear last year’s fashions to the social event of next season, as it were. Only a great deal more uncomfortable, I should imagine. Or at least moderately so. I have seen the latest ladies’ magazines.
But I digress. You seem to be in an untenable situation of the first water. I had been lead to believe that America was a land of certain inalienable rights, why have you not fought for yours? If it is because of your unfortunate lack of, well, tongues, if you’ll excuse the anatomical reference, I believe that I can help you there. Would you allow me to speak for you? I believe that my current status in the community might be of some assistance.
Oh, gentlemen, keep your seats. There’s no need for a standing ovation. Believe me I’m highly flattered by your attentions, and most appreciative of the complement. But for goodness sake! If you are incapable of holding yourselves together while maintaining the illusion of being upright members of society, I for one would much prefer that you not even make the attempt. The stress of remaining on your feet it has taken its toll; you are about to decompose all over the table. In future, let us dispense with these pleasantries. I’m more than willing to make allowances for the differences in physical states if it means I won’t have to witness anything so scandalous as a gentleman staining his waistcoat.
No two ways about it, then. I shall have to take your case to the local authorities directly after tea. Pass the sugar, if you would please. Yes, thank you. As I was saying. A lack of proper representation, that’s what we have here. Fortunately for you I may not be diplomatic, but at the moment I am most certainly a diplomat.
Series: The Parasol Protectorate
Character Age: 28
Job: Foreign Diplomat and Liaison from the British Empire to the Americas
Canon: Take vampires, werewolves, and ghosts (oh my!), drop them into Victorian England. Twist history until you come up with something appropriately steampunk. Add to the mix one woman whose touch has the power to briefly negate the supernatural condition. Now shake, and watch as she takes tea at midnight, seeks out scientific corruption no matter what back parlour it may be lurking in, and whacks the upper crust of supernatural society over the head with her oversized parasol.
Alexia is that woman. She was born without a soul, which explains her ability to cancel out the excess spirit that leads to supernatural manifestations after death, meaning that she can exorcise ghosts and make vampires and werewolves mortal while in direct contact with them. (Sorry zombies, but you don’t exist in this universe.) In personality, Alexia’s “preternatural” state makes her unusually pragmatic, capable of focusing on the facts even in the face of grave danger or times of emotional distress. She adds to this her own distinctly headstrong tendencies and a keen (not to say meddlesome) interest in the world around her, be it scientific or social, so long as it is not of the norm. Although this makes her a little blunt and sometimes scandalously forward by the measure of a Victorian society, it should be said that soullessness in no way reflects on Alexia’s morals. She is, after all, British before anything.
Sample Post:
Supernaturals of Louisiana, thank you for your excessively kind welcome. I can see that you’ve made every attempt to make me feel at home. While it might be worthwhile to mention that the phrase High Tea is not actually a reference to table elevation, and that fingers sandwiches are not a literal concept, I’m still extremely impressed with your rendition of the beverage itself. To be frank, it is more than I expected. After all, you are American, and concessions must be given.
Pardon my bluntness, I meant no disrespect. But while we are on the subject, I simply have to ask. While I’ve heard much about your native country’s backwards views on the supernatural, I would never have believed that local convention could force a ghost to take up residence in his or her own mortal remains. In point of fact, I wasn’t aware that ghosts could do that at all. Isn’t it dreadfully mushy? You don’t appear to have been preserved in any way. Surely arsenical salts are available here? Or that new liquid, what was it called again? Ah yes, formaldehyde. I shall be making inquiries for you post-haste. Though really, it won’t solve your underlying problem, which is that being stuck back into your body after death can only be compared to being forced to wear last year’s fashions to the social event of next season, as it were. Only a great deal more uncomfortable, I should imagine. Or at least moderately so. I have seen the latest ladies’ magazines.
But I digress. You seem to be in an untenable situation of the first water. I had been lead to believe that America was a land of certain inalienable rights, why have you not fought for yours? If it is because of your unfortunate lack of, well, tongues, if you’ll excuse the anatomical reference, I believe that I can help you there. Would you allow me to speak for you? I believe that my current status in the community might be of some assistance.
Oh, gentlemen, keep your seats. There’s no need for a standing ovation. Believe me I’m highly flattered by your attentions, and most appreciative of the complement. But for goodness sake! If you are incapable of holding yourselves together while maintaining the illusion of being upright members of society, I for one would much prefer that you not even make the attempt. The stress of remaining on your feet it has taken its toll; you are about to decompose all over the table. In future, let us dispense with these pleasantries. I’m more than willing to make allowances for the differences in physical states if it means I won’t have to witness anything so scandalous as a gentleman staining his waistcoat.
No two ways about it, then. I shall have to take your case to the local authorities directly after tea. Pass the sugar, if you would please. Yes, thank you. As I was saying. A lack of proper representation, that’s what we have here. Fortunately for you I may not be diplomatic, but at the moment I am most certainly a diplomat.