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M A G D A L E N A xM A R S Z A Ł E K
Born - - - 13 August 2131
Hometown - - - - Warsaw, Poland
Hometown - - - - Warsaw, Poland
A G E
22
H E X
#8B3A3A
Role - - - Modest Mussorgsky
Occupation - - -librarian's assistant
C O M P O S I T I O N
i. Scherzo in B Flat Major - ii. The Hut on Fowl's Legs - iii. Sunless - iv. The Destruction of Sennacherib
i. Scherzo in B Flat Major - ii. The Hut on Fowl's Legs - iii. Sunless - iv. The Destruction of Sennacherib
Z O D I A C
leo
E R A
romantic
M B T I
entj
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Appearance
hair | brown eyes | brown
height | 179 cm x x weight | 65 kg
Likes
hot chocolate | she'll drink a gallon of the stuff in two minutes
if you let her + cats | their calm nature seems to be a good
balance to her own fiery one + autumn | the weather is
calm but the colours are the wild she feels + soft blankets |
one of the luxuries of a comfy life + softball | something about
the fit of a helmet over her head and the weight of a bat in her
hand
Dislikes
crowds | though she can grit her teeth and put up with
having to be a good host inside you can bet she's fuming +
crying | she doesn't mind being angry in front of people
but she hates showing signs of weakness + smoke | it
chokes her and makes her cough something awful +
children | they're annoying and go places they shouldn't
be allowed and put their grubby little hands over everything +
boats | the rocking motion makes her want to hurl
Strengths & Weaknesses
honesty | she curses and screams and hurts herself but
the one thing she never does is lie + fighting | don't ask
how a sophisticated lady knows how to punch the daylights of
a grown man + observant | she doesn't always say it but
she knows more than people think + funny | she makes
the darndest jokes + compassionate | maybe not when
she's in her rages but she cares a whole lot for how others feel
temper | gets the better of her all too easily and makes
her hard to comprehend + listening | she's too loud to
hear anyone else + fickle | easily swayed from her point
of view + stubborn as a bulldog when she sets her sights
on something + childish | altogether too naive
Miscellaneous
hates being addressed as Magdalena because Lena does just
fine | whistles and taps her fingers on the nearest surface
enough to drive anyone crazy | tangles her hands in her hair
when she's frustrated, it's a blessing her hair is thick because
otherwise she would be half bald by now | extraordinarily
pleasant to people that serve her | habit of going back to the
twin sign language she and her brother made up without
bothering to explain what any of it means | please be flattered |
this is why she's never focused | god yes | gryffindor/slytherin
hybrid | is this a personal attack | her moods are an
understatement | how is she not dead from too much sugar |
please befriend | sorry officer brady | can't stop won't stop |
her idea of friends is anyone she talked to and was nice to
her so she makes "friends" way too easily | can't sit down
and think so she likes to twirl until she falls over to generate
ideas | Edmund Marszałek
"Art is not an end in itself, but a means
of addressing humanity."
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to unlive yourself, when the honey bites
look: here is my heart laid bare;
it is no longer leaking
blood onto the white linoleum.
take, you are gentle.
listen: this is what your words sound like
in the dark of this house with
your heart blinding me;
they echo, and
I miss you still.
look: here is my heart laid bare;
it is no longer leaking
blood onto the white linoleum.
take, you are gentle.
listen: this is what your words sound like
in the dark of this house with
your heart blinding me;
they echo, and
I miss you still.
I DID NOT WANT RAPTURE
❦
Imagine this: there's a house. No, a mansion, really. Not a home, because it is full of ghosts, and ghosts have no hearts.
A house, nonetheless.
A scream echoes down one of the many corridors to grace the house, sending maids scuttling frantically. It is a miracle, the miracle of life, but at that moment no one is giving thanks. Everyone is praying. Only one woman has been granted the gift of seeing the future, and she is the one who will pass that night.
A breathless shriek of wordless pain, one final push, and not one, but two children come into this world. The lady of the house is conscious long enough to name them—one Magdalena, after the woman of seven demons, not in the hope that she might wait to be cleansed by any one man, but that she might go forth and burn her identity into history; the other Edmund, for the English king that chose death in place of giving up his land and his people, that perhaps her son might be equally loyal and good a leader. The maids wail for their lost mistress, but the children only stare up at them, too much knowing in their eyes.
Meanwhile, their father locks himself away in mourning. It goes on for months and months, the dust gathering in the corners of his room, the food they leave him barely touched. It is only when one maid snaps and marches upstairs, flinging open the door to his study and pushing the girl into his arms, that he emerges, smiling like they have never seen the sun shine. At last, order is restored.
But not quite. For all his resemblance to his sister, Edmund is never shown the same love Magdalena is. They receive the same lessons and training, yes, but where their father lets Lena go with a smile and gentle but loving admonishment, Edmund is more likely to be chased through the grounds with a brandished belt, knowing that he will feel the sting all the worse for running. Any other child would resent their sibling for this, but surprisingly it draws the children closer together, bonding in a way even their personal maids cannot understand.
It doesn't take long for the children to realise that boundaries, for them, are virtually nonexistent. Aside from the punishments that their father metes out to Edmund, if erratically, no one else bothers to discipline the children. So while they excel at their studies, while their etiquette classes return stellar results, while they smile beatifically and stand ramrod straight, behind locked doors they lapse into the children they are, speaking the language of hands only they share as twins, indulgent and barely controllable. Magdalena shows great potential at the piano, though when she learns composition she becomes prone to temper tantrums, or tearing at her hair and skin until blood drips onto the paper, trying to express something she cannot even say to Edmund.
And then the visions occur. Lena begins developing a habit of slipping away from her brother, leaving the bewildered boy searching through the mansion for her, never once dreaming that she's in the garden, lying under the rosebushes. She returns hours later, with a dazed, faraway look in her eye, and refuses to reveal where she's been, or what she's been doing. The twins' relationship worsens, Edmund masking the fear that she's leaving him behind with bewildered anger. For the first time as far as anyone can remember, they begin fighting—at first ignoring each other, which escalates into screaming curses, and culminates in blood dotting the pale yellow walls. Lena never quite understands why Edmund is angry at her, and in a final attempt to keep the peace lets him in on her secret.
She's been seeing feyfolk, she says. She lies under the rosebushes and waits quietly, and the faeries come to her, and the songs they sing she writes into her own music. But it's an experience she can never share with Edmund, for the day she shows him the exact spot she used to lie for hours on end is the day the fey stop appearing, and never show themselves again. Edmund is only confused, but Lena is devastated. She goes back to the same spot over and over again, whispering prayers—for the first time in her life sincere—but they never come. Lost, Lena takes to wandering the library, reading everything about feyfolk she can get her hands on, always trying to replicate their otherworldly music in her own. The desire to explore that which is not of their world stays with her for the rest of her life, her near-obsession with myths manifesting in her music.
So this is how the children grow. Magdalena, fiery, always struggling to express some unspoken word within her heart, her personality as untameable as her hair. Edmund, always fighting to keep up with his sister, content to live in her shadow. Brother and sister, irreparably dependent on each other, a little bewildered at how the rest of the world operates, lapsing back into the behaviour they exhibited as children every now and then.
But now, for the first time in never, they're separated. Magdalena's left to further her studies on music, out in the world for the first time, her passion taking her further than her brother is willing to follow.
The house is empty again, and occasionally it calls for Magdalena, but she never looks back.
A house, nonetheless.
A scream echoes down one of the many corridors to grace the house, sending maids scuttling frantically. It is a miracle, the miracle of life, but at that moment no one is giving thanks. Everyone is praying. Only one woman has been granted the gift of seeing the future, and she is the one who will pass that night.
A breathless shriek of wordless pain, one final push, and not one, but two children come into this world. The lady of the house is conscious long enough to name them—one Magdalena, after the woman of seven demons, not in the hope that she might wait to be cleansed by any one man, but that she might go forth and burn her identity into history; the other Edmund, for the English king that chose death in place of giving up his land and his people, that perhaps her son might be equally loyal and good a leader. The maids wail for their lost mistress, but the children only stare up at them, too much knowing in their eyes.
Meanwhile, their father locks himself away in mourning. It goes on for months and months, the dust gathering in the corners of his room, the food they leave him barely touched. It is only when one maid snaps and marches upstairs, flinging open the door to his study and pushing the girl into his arms, that he emerges, smiling like they have never seen the sun shine. At last, order is restored.
But not quite. For all his resemblance to his sister, Edmund is never shown the same love Magdalena is. They receive the same lessons and training, yes, but where their father lets Lena go with a smile and gentle but loving admonishment, Edmund is more likely to be chased through the grounds with a brandished belt, knowing that he will feel the sting all the worse for running. Any other child would resent their sibling for this, but surprisingly it draws the children closer together, bonding in a way even their personal maids cannot understand.
It doesn't take long for the children to realise that boundaries, for them, are virtually nonexistent. Aside from the punishments that their father metes out to Edmund, if erratically, no one else bothers to discipline the children. So while they excel at their studies, while their etiquette classes return stellar results, while they smile beatifically and stand ramrod straight, behind locked doors they lapse into the children they are, speaking the language of hands only they share as twins, indulgent and barely controllable. Magdalena shows great potential at the piano, though when she learns composition she becomes prone to temper tantrums, or tearing at her hair and skin until blood drips onto the paper, trying to express something she cannot even say to Edmund.
And then the visions occur. Lena begins developing a habit of slipping away from her brother, leaving the bewildered boy searching through the mansion for her, never once dreaming that she's in the garden, lying under the rosebushes. She returns hours later, with a dazed, faraway look in her eye, and refuses to reveal where she's been, or what she's been doing. The twins' relationship worsens, Edmund masking the fear that she's leaving him behind with bewildered anger. For the first time as far as anyone can remember, they begin fighting—at first ignoring each other, which escalates into screaming curses, and culminates in blood dotting the pale yellow walls. Lena never quite understands why Edmund is angry at her, and in a final attempt to keep the peace lets him in on her secret.
She's been seeing feyfolk, she says. She lies under the rosebushes and waits quietly, and the faeries come to her, and the songs they sing she writes into her own music. But it's an experience she can never share with Edmund, for the day she shows him the exact spot she used to lie for hours on end is the day the fey stop appearing, and never show themselves again. Edmund is only confused, but Lena is devastated. She goes back to the same spot over and over again, whispering prayers—for the first time in her life sincere—but they never come. Lost, Lena takes to wandering the library, reading everything about feyfolk she can get her hands on, always trying to replicate their otherworldly music in her own. The desire to explore that which is not of their world stays with her for the rest of her life, her near-obsession with myths manifesting in her music.
So this is how the children grow. Magdalena, fiery, always struggling to express some unspoken word within her heart, her personality as untameable as her hair. Edmund, always fighting to keep up with his sister, content to live in her shadow. Brother and sister, irreparably dependent on each other, a little bewildered at how the rest of the world operates, lapsing back into the behaviour they exhibited as children every now and then.
But now, for the first time in never, they're separated. Magdalena's left to further her studies on music, out in the world for the first time, her passion taking her further than her brother is willing to follow.
The house is empty again, and occasionally it calls for Magdalena, but she never looks back.
＆O1 ＯＴＨＥＲ
Face Claim | Sasha Kichigina
Played by | barnes
Created by | verix
Inspired by | onyx & cinders on jcink
Face Claim | Sasha Kichigina
Played by | barnes
Created by | verix
Inspired by | onyx & cinders on jcink
magdalena marszałek
to unlive yourself, when the honey bites
to unlive yourself, when the honey bites
nicknamexxxlene - for everyone, so much less of a mouthful;
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxmadzia - for her family, the polish diminutive
birthdatexxx.13/08/2000
zodiac signx.leo
sexualityxxxxpan-asexual
occupationxxstudent, librarian's assistant
codenamexx.spitfire
dialogue codexxx#8b3a3a
thought codexxxx#000000
face claimxxxxxxxsasha kichigina
song inspirationxshe's morphine, queen of my vaccine;
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwithout burning feelings there is no joy
after high school,/majoring in integrated music studies at
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxvanderbilt university
x
x
x
xxxxgeneral style
seasons
lene runs so hot she barely notices when the weather turns cold. she'll shrug on a coat as long as the need to bundle up is brought to her attention, but under that she might be wearing ripped jeans, or even just shorts with little more than a pair of tights to keep her legs warm. she's more suited to the summer, donning light blouses and bundling her unruly hair up to keep it off her neck. the one thing that never changes, though, are her shoes—she's always in comfortable sneakers, so beloved that holes have worn into the fabric.
casual and formal
lene's day-to-day style could largely be considered comfortable casual—anything that allows her to move easily, doesn't take more than three minutes to pull on, and can stay where it's supposed to be is good enough for her. she would look like most teenagers, except for her knack of choosing clothes in the strangest colours and patterns, and managing to make them work. to her, any skirts and dresses are considered fancy, and only pulled out at special occasions. if the event only requires her to look good as opposed to dressed up, she'll just pick a jacket with no grass stains and the least distressed pair of pants she has and call it a day.
anything else
she has piercings in her earlobes, but she tends to forget to put earrings in and has had to reopen them twice before. she has a tattoo of watercolour water design on the inside of her right elbow, to remind her to curb her fiery nature, and a paper crane at the base of her neck to pay tribute to her past.
is, sugar is an incredibly important part of her diet,
but she especially loves carrying a thermos of
something warm and sweet, regardless of the
weather + cats | their calm nature seems to be a
good balance to her own fiery one + sports |
anything that lets her run around and work off her
energy (she especially loves softball—something
about the fit of a helmet over her head and the
weight of a bat in her hand) + romantic-era
music | especially the eastern european
composers + potatoes | such an integral part of
polish food, and her aunt has always been a
good cook + horror movies | no matter how
good or bad, the moment the screen darkens she
shuts up + piano | she was pretty much a child
prodigy by the time she moved to america + her
twin brother | he can do no wrong in her eyes +
supernatural | she's always had a healthy
appreciation for fairies and ghosts
the moment she starts crying it's all over + smoke |
it triggers her asthma and makes her cough
something awful + children | they're annoying and
go places they shouldn't be allowed and put their
grubby little hands over everything + long road
trips | spending too long on any vehicle makes her
want to hurl + humid weather | her hair doesn't
need any more encouragement + rom-coms | she
thinks they're a totally unrealistic waste of time +
pollen | only a mild allergy, but she's as susceptible
to hay fever as anyone else + apples | her allergy
causes itching in her throat + romance | in any form
it's just awkward, she has little time to devote to
them and she's got enough friends anyway +
muppets | their bulging eyes freak her out +
takeout | call her spoiled but she grew up on home-
cooked food and takeout is a travesty + animal
print | it's just plain ugly + showers | her hair
takes forever to dry
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxhistory
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X X X X X X X X X x X X X X X X X X X X X Xgoes here.X X X x x x x x x x x Xthe writer's voice.