[attr="class","hkappbody2"]

[attr="class","hkappbody3"]

All that I want is to wake up fine

Tell me that I'm alright, that I ain't gonna die

You were born Fiona, a lovely little girl with ringlets in your hair and dirt on your dress. All you ever seemed to hear from your prim and proper family was your own name, shrilly shrieked by your mother when she discovered what you’d done to those dresses she spent so much money on. You lived in a mansion, had a fleet of servants, and a name that inspired excitement in the inner circles that you floated around. Daddy was a politician, someone influential but to you he was always nothing more than a cold man who never seemed to smile for real. You found it odd, but figured it was just how he was and went about your business, while much more important matters needed to be attended to.[break][break]

Life seemed to slip by in a slow crawl, with that constant itch making you claw at your skin. You were left with red lines down your cheeks and arms and a concerned mother who told you to stop picking at your skin. Things like dance and how to be prim and proper never caught your attentions for long, but you always held a certain fascination for the world around you. Especially when it came to animals and monsters you could never get enough, and that’s what got you into a lot of trouble.[break][break]

If someone from the outside had to explain the recurring events of your childhood, they’d explain it as a sense of “gothic horror.” These events you can’t clearly remember, but you think sometimes that you feel a probing in your brain that whispers to you to come find those memories. When asking your mother, she tends to go pale. Withdrawn suddenly, and ignores you for ages afterwards. You were kept in the house after the “incident” in the woods, one that you can’t remember. She says it’s because there’s no one to watch you, but you see the way her lips tremble sometimes. [break][break]

So you stay inside, locked away like some sort of doll as your three older siblings live their lives in a more ordered fashion. They of course may not have been the babies of the family but they slid into their lives more easily than you did, which looked on them favorably.

All that I want is a hole in the ground

You can tell me when it’s alright for me to come out

The itch continues, and you dream of a green light in the forest.[break][break]

You refuse to sleep sometimes, or rather you are kept awake at night by racing thoughts that refuse to cease even in the most desperate of times. Things are going relatively well though, you haven’t scraped your knees in ages and mother is happy with the state of your dresses, clean and almost almost immaculate. [break][break]

You are not happy.[break][break]

The itch runs bone deep, and while you stop scratching you know there’s something wrong. You break your mirrors, and they keep getting replaced. You rip your dresses, new ones appear. You feel trapped in a hell-like world where everything is beyond your control and you are stuck living and breathing without space to do anything. [break][break]

You live with this wrongness for a long time, pushing it off as you struggle through years of studies that don’t mean a thing to you. You have a favorite class though, one you excel in that your mother and father shake their heads at. The study of animals, something you chose out of interest to pass the one free block of time they demanded you fill with more work. There you get to go back outside into the forests, to study creatures, or even better, into the city to study people. You are astronomically good at this, for a while at least. [break][break]

You lag when the work gets harder, because to be honest you are willing to admit you aren’t smart like your siblings. Mom starts dragging you to socialite parties, parading you around as you get older and older trying to set up a marriage that would be profitable. You are reluctant to play this part, feeling waves of shame and pure wrongness descending over you as you try to keep up in heels and flowers and smooth silks. [break][break]

You can’t help but give the men jealous glances, as they slide glimmer over your lips. [break][break]

Walking around with my little rain cloud

Hanging over my head and it ain’t coming down

You wake up one day in the middle of the front lawn with mud on your ankles. [break][break]

The last thing you remember is the party, and your mother is furious at you for leaving early, but you claim weakly you recall nothing. The next couple of weeks are a flurry of doctors and nurses and needles, they make you twitch and jump but nothing is wrong, just a big gaping hole in your memories. Time passes and its forgotten by your family, or at least not spoken about. You though, you think about that time for years. You blossom into a “nice young woman” as they describe it and it kills you, but you bloom into yourself and your romantic and sexual needs. For some reason, there’s shame in liking men, but you find no interest in women. [break][break]

You take a lover, you are shy and inexperienced and ashamed of your body. But he whispers things in your ear to soothe you, calls you everything under the sun. Even though some of it makes your skin crawl, you accept him as part of you. [break][break]

It was devastating to be fifteen and pregnant.[break][break]

The holes in your memory get worse sometimes during it, but between the swollen ankles and constant tears, you don’t find yourself going very far. You are locked inside, a shame to your family, and the baby is born in secrecy. You feel a part of yourself dying with the birth of a beautiful daughter, and name her Fiona, for you no longer feel whole. You are a shell of a person taking care of a much smaller, screaming person. This is your responsibility and your mother somehow manages to cover it up, and you find yourself at a loss. The father is gone, you aren’t sure where, but he ran the moment he found out. Too young to face the consequences you supposed, as you suffered. [break][break]

Fiona turns two and makes life a bit more bearable. She sleeps through the night now, isn’t as fussy, and you start to discover things. You trash a lot of your dresses and trade them for slacks and jeans, you’re already a disgrace so why should it matter at this point? You spend a few years hardly going out, not finding joy in a lot of things. You swear off men and somehow this comes as a comfort to you, something strange and fragile needing to be protected within you. You spend these years learning and reading and raising Fiona, she turns 3, then 4, and then 4.5. You yourself edge closer to 20 and realize with a start you’ve done nothing with your life, nothing at all besides make a mistake that turned out lovely.[break][break]

20 comes with no celebration, and you hate yourself. You chop off your hair in a fit, and somehow it makes you feel better. You learn things from books, from word of mouth in the market, from things Fiona asks you. Why did you have to be a girl? If only…...if only…..and the words come to you suddenly, unbidden. [break][break]

Who says you have to be a girl?[break][break]

Your wardrobe is ripped apart and your new identity slides over you like a second skin. It’s a relief, a deep rooted relief that covers up the holes and gaps, the weird green lights, the daughter who stares at you with a broad smile. Your parents are outraged, how could you do this to them? After their shouting match, they succumb and at least demand the right to rename you. You’ve brought shame to them but they still control you, still have planted their seeds of doubt in your brain. [break][break]

Millard is what they choose.[break][break]

You decide that while it’s not the best, it’s what you like because they chose it. Despite the cold shoulder they give you, the looks and sneers, you somehow force yourself to feel their “love.” But now how to get back in their good graces? You decide to do the dangerous, to join a coven. Helios Knights with the money you have to buy your way in, make a name for yourself through minor politics but mostly hard work, become a better…...father, to Fiona. [break][break]

For why does the bird need to be caged forever?

The Good, The Bad

the ultimately childish

Name: Fiona Zhang[break]
age: 5[break]
coven/alumni: none (helios knights if necessary)[break]
affinities, element, familiar: plantshaping, water, feline (random roll pls for fun~)[break]
role: friendly child[break]
suggested fcs: kiki[break]
Description: Fiona is a friendly if not nosy child who likes to know just about everything. Her speech patterns are a bit childish for someone her age and she talks using a “baby voice” that’s much higher pitched than her actual voice. She’s a daddy’s girl who adores her father but tends to run off due to her lack of a solid attention span. She takes her role as a witch very seriously and is never seen without her familiar directly by her side. Despite her brief attitude problem, she’s a friendly child who’s willing to talk to just about anyone![break]
usage: feel free to play her as the continuously lost child if people actually request her lol or whatever else you may think of!