♠ congrats on 15+ !! i really loved the character design and just had to make an entry - sorry for not doing any animation or anything ♠ char. design is @-tymewild- 's : stevie, a professional witch. other character is mine. ♠ backstory Stevie ran a hand through her short hair, studying her face in the mirror. There was a rather large zit right under her bottom lip, but of course that could be solved with a simple flick of her finger and a little concentration. She had a show in approximately thirty minutes, and all her dressers and hair-stylists had already finished up with their part. She did like, however, to spend a little while in the dressing-room, touching up her look. Scowling at the scar that still remained after her trick, Stevie blinked away her magically-enhanced pupils, rubbing at the tingling after-effects. When she’d started out singing, she hadn’t meant to start using her gifts to increase her popularity and income, but when she’d been refused from so many agencies, being ‘just another wanna-be star with a washed-up look’, she’d of course had no choice but to make a few tweaks. She adjusted the large bow placed precariously on the side of her head and bit off a curse as it slid down. Her winged eyeliner was smudged, too - she must have been off her game today. Now she had to get her eyes back, and she held them open, bracing herself for the cool, uncomfortable feeling as she morphed the shape of her pupil. She’d barely been able to suffer through the very first time she’d done it. Stevie hadn’t much planned on the particular exclamation mark shape of them: it had just happened, when she’d done it first, and she’d liked it, making it her trademark for years of business to come. The door creaked open behind her. Startled, she messed up the magic, blurring the image. She screwed her ruined eye shut and thought of an excuse quickly. “Got make-up in my eye,” she called while holding it shut. “Don’t come in!” But she heard footsteps anyway, coming closer. Groaning, she turned around, making sure to keep her eye closed. Nobody knew that her pupils were real, and she liked to keep it that way. “Open,” someone commanded, moving right up close to her. She couldn’t make out their face, the vision in her good eye still blurry, and so she assumed that it was just another stylist who had come to grab something and decided, gracefully, to help her with her imaginary crisis. “No,” she said shortly. “It’s just make-up. I don’t think I need help, thanks.” She frowned at them as they, rather than backing away, came only closer. “I said open it,” they repeated forcefully, and she had no choice but to comply, wincing. Their finger rubbed over the surface of her eye, and though she had trained herself to be immune to the discomfort of it, it was more odd when another person was doing it. Of course, now they knew or at least had some idea of what was happening. Stevie’s stomach clenched with the vague ideas that blurred into form in her bread at how the public would react to this. ‘Witch’, although true, was far from the worst name she would be called. (cont)
(cont) Strangely, she didn’t feel all that upset over the prospect of being discovered. She did have it coming, she supposed, one day or another. Mediocre events are a cycle, after all. The stranger didn’t seem shocked or appalled, instead going with it with all the precision of an expert. Stevie was rather soothed by their touch, though every muscle in her body was still clenched tightly. “There you are,” they said, and she could make out a smile on their lips. “It’s all good now.” “Th-thank you,” Stevie stuttered, taken aback. They leaned back in their seat, and she could now see that they had curled orange hair and was holding a swirling glass of red wine in their hand. Why was it swirling? “Now, then,” they said, taking a sip. “On to business.” This remark shook Stevie out of her stupor. “I’m sorry, what? I have a show in thirty minutes, and you’re a complete stranger. I’m not doing any sort of business with you.” She drew herself up, standing. “Thank you for the help, but I’ll be going.” To her surprise, the stranger giggled, leaning forward a bit with one arm propped on their knee. “You have time.” “I really think I don’t.” “I know what you are.” These words sent a shiver down her spine, and she stepped back. “Excuse me?” “It’s all right,” the person said, grinning. “I have an offer for you.” “What, are you blackmailing me?” Stevie said. She reached behind her to fumble around on the ledge holding all of her makeup for a potential weapon, finally settling on a sharp hairpin. Whoever they were, she wasn’t going to give them the time of day, and certainly wasn’t going to die here. “No, no!” they said defensively, though they didn’t look all too concerned, taking another sip of their wine. “A business offer. As a witch, you obviously have certain talents that others don’t. With the uprising of outraged ghosts in recent times, we need a man on the field.” “What are you talking about?” Stevie asked, certain now that she was talking to a psycho, an insane person at the very least. “We’re the Children of the Stars,” the person introduced, now smirking as they set a piece of paper from nowhere onto the table. “Look over this and give us a call if you’re interested.” And they vanished, leaving just the empty wineglass behind. When the show began, Stevie was still shaken from the encounter. But now she knew what she needed to do. [ after having her help requested by the children of the stars, stevie began to work on the side as a help, solving the dead's problem from out of the grave. she was quite good at it, and when she died, all the work, though she was a human, guaranteed her many years of happiness in the aether.] the other character and ideas are from my story ! i thought, if i'm entering a dta, i may as well be able to include it.
