[attr="class","rcappleftic"][attr="class","fa fa-user"]

[attr="class","rcappleftnick"]

OPHELIA

[attr="class","rcappleftstuff"]

AGE: twenty three

DATE OF BIRTH: december 21st

HOMETOWN: bellingham, washington

GENDER: female

ZODIAC SIGN: sagittarius

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:[break] single

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:[break] greysexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:[break] biromantic

OCCUPATION:[break] baker

[attr="class","rcappleftfc"]

[b]CODE GEASS, c.c.[/b] as [i]ophelia[/i]

[attr="class,"rcappper4"]



she remains close to sources of heat at all times, whether in the kitchen or otherwise. work stations are organized and centered about the oven, the stove, logical choices yet arranged without logic in mind. do not expect to see an apron upon her person, doused as she is in flour and chocolate and the like, such articles of clothing are foreign to her. denied. again, again, again.[break][break]
flowers are bought, every other day, apparent whimsy that strikes her on rainy walks, on sunny walks, like clockwork. a stop, a purchase, an arrival to work, a vase set out front just to showcase their vibrant beauty. vibrancy upon vibrancy, loveliness arranged with care, small hands and sore arms working. quiet.[break][break]
her store is her own, bought on her own, named on her own, the smallest of bakeries full to the brim with the scent of breads, pastries, saccharinity beyond compare. sweet dreams: her pride, her joy, her beloved above all others. early mornings and late nights ( sleep still yet so rare ) and it beats along with her heart, along with her sole employee. as many things as possible are done by hand and by hand alone, mixing and kneading and chopping and folding.[break][break]
not clumsy but absent — forgetful, to an extent. she will never drop a thing but she will pause in the midst of a battlefield and stare, lost to the universe, until brought back with the softest of touches upon her back. a smile is rare upon her face but softness is evident in every line of her body, every gesture of her hand, she will aid without hesitation but she will save herself, first.[break][break]
never one to drive, always one to walk. no rhyme or reason, simply a preference. rain or shine or snow or sleet, she will walk, will stroll, will run and jog and jump, but will never drive. will sing, when she is alone, will hum when she is not, will say not a thing amongst a crowd. silent. a math whiz, by nature, but do not inquire.[break][break]
tears flow, easy and often, yet only over trivialities. the softness of an animal, a moment captured in time, icing work done to perfection. she cries, brief stints, a flow and a stop and laughter close behind. ( yet in times of strife, in seriousness, in pain, eyes are dry and face is blank and she withdraws. she will not shed a tear. )

[attr="class","rcappbio2"]

PURITY OF MIND, PURITY OF HEART

so sweet, so young, you are the youth and the sky and you are smiles and happiness and soft touches abound. cries of joy resonate, bright and unwavering, both hands held with love, with care. adoration for you, all for you — adoration for them, all for them. they are affectionate, and they are kind, and they are in love. with you, with each other, with life.[break][break]
rain in the sky, upon the ground, within the earth, falling and falling and you dance in it and rejoice in it and reside in your warm home. beloved girl, you live a life of happiness without doubts, without hesitation. so young you are, with so pure a heart, your laughter flows free and boundless and may you never be unhappy.[break][break]
may they never be taken from you, your cherished parents, bright eyed and young and oh, how they love you so. the apple of their eyes. you are everything, you are the sky and all the stars, and your stars intermingle with theirs, and you create a constellation. so beautiful. more stars are added and you love her, your little sister, you love her. you love her. you love her.[break][break]
( not because they tell you that you should. no. no. no. )[break][break]
and then it happens. rush of a moment. eyes open, father is there, with his soft smile and soft hands and loving, so loving. eyes close, and you dream. eyes open, and father is there again, but there is no softness about him, only panic. he is scared and it is warm and smoke is rising and you are terrified, you are not yet awake as arms take you up and run with you and you are set down, careful but not gentle, and he is gone again. mother is nowhere — oh, but you can hear her. there she is. in the distance. screaming. where is sister?[break][break]
trapped.[break][break]
it is too warm and fire is blazing and it is closing in and you are terrified, frightened beyond all compare, you cannot breathe, cannot think. look to the stairs and the flames are consuming them and your venerated parents are so far away, with your sister. look to the door and there it stands, free of flames. for now. you do not feel yourself, you have displaced your body, and you are running. you wish for safety of yourself, first.
you are not sure when the upper floor caves in, but it does. you are not sure when neighbors locate you and wrap you in blankets, but they do. you are not sure when trucks with screaming sirens arrive, but they do. you are not sure when your loved parents and sister died, but they do. you imagine that they died screaming, in pain, burned or crushed, all together. stars in the sky, creating a beautiful constellation. you wonder if you should have died with them.[break][break]
you are ten, and then you don’t wonder at all.[break][break]

SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BODY YOU ARE STILL HOLY

the byproduct of only children who did not want their children to be without siblings, the byproduct of young adults whose parents had been taking soon after you were born. one after the other. no living relatives to speak of, except for dear old grandma in the nursing home, unfit to take care of her granddaughter. so you are placed into the foster care system.[break][break]
( you do not know when your grandmother dies, just that she does. you do not cry. )[break][break]
so sympathetic, they are, of your plight. to lose family at such a young age, to have been the only one to survive. adults whispered, about your oddities, about your quirks, how you did not shed a tear, how you stared into space as if you saw everything yet you saw nothing, about how you did not appear to feel a thing. no, you felt. feelings had not been lost. they just could not see them. not anymore. not when you were asleep, playing at wakefulness.[break][break]
in your first home you awaken, whisper that you let them die — you are returned. in the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, you do not awaken and you are returned. the sixth? you awaken again, you smile again, you do not say a word about it, you do not speak of how you dream of flames licking at your skin, of smoke clogging up your throat. you do not mention that you dream of them dying, again and again.[break][break]
you are not returned, after that. instead you are loved, again, but with distance. not quite love. a sense of duty. protection. devotion. but they do not love you truly, and you do not think that they do. you are never adopted by them, but remain with them. them and your siblings anew, and they come and go and are replaced and you do not love them, either. not really.[break][break]
and you live, yet you do not live, you move as if a ghost. unbelievably gentle and kind to the last, faint smiles abound, with a mere twitch of lips, an occasional display. others fawn over you, in school, so pretty you are! and you thank them, sweetness and charm and keep moving, until most whisper of your strangeness, your oddity, your haughty tendencies that alienate you. and you do not care. you help and you tutor and your teachers adore you, and you tell no one that you dream of flames and of smoke and of laying yourself upon a pyre. of sentencing your family to such a fate, of being the one to set them alight and watching them burn.[break][break]
when you first burn yourself upon the oven your foster parents look to you, concerned, and you reassure them, wan, though your heart races. you are alright. you are alright. heat sinks into your skin and you think, perhaps, that is living. and you cannot be separated from it any longer. henceforth you submerge yourself in batter, in sweetness and in flour, drowning yourself further and further and you burn yourself, often. accidents, always.[break][break]
maybe.[break][break]
you are touched and you touch in return — a scholarship arrives and you leave, saying goodbye and thank you and moving on, drifting through college as if it were a dream. math courses, business courses, jobs acquired and worked and money saved, more and more and more. enough. just enough. and so the building is bought, and the supplies acquired, and your savings bitten, your parents’ money burning as they did. is it living, yet?[break][break]

OR MAYBE YOU’RE DEAD INSIDE, AND ARE A MOCKERY OF LIFE.

it is her center, her life, everything to her. the building, what resides in it, its exterior, everything about it. so beloved, to her, so warm, an all-consuming warmth that could be stifling. she, however, does not think it stifling, she thinks it safe. her child, perhaps, all affection given to it, and she is nigh selfish with it by nature.[break][break]
shared only with one other, one and only one, her partner, her right hand, the face beside hers, the hands that work in tandem. care is taken, all things lovingly crafted, all breads kneaded by hand, all cakes decorated with painstaking grace. sugar laces her tongue, sweetening words, dampening the poison that lies within. she is a dead girl, walking amongst the living, and her bakery is her dream.[break][break]
perhaps it is unsurprising that she dreams of it burning, too.[break][break]
harmless burns litter her arms, her hands, her fingers, softness marred and dreams continue. never ceasing. years have passed and still they burn, in her mind, in her heart. screams and pleas rattle in her sleeping mind, scenes playing, they are running running, little sister is crying. now they burn amongst sweet dreams, and she does not burn with them, anymore. she has burned, already. and there is nothing left.[break][break]
and so she smiles, charming and lovely and beautiful in her everything, and she will smile at you, as well. will smile and laugh and say sweet words from her sugar coated tongue and will play at living masterfully, wonderful masquerade that will never be shed. kind and gentle by nurture.[break][break]
but she is playing with matches amongst bone dry wood doused in gasoline, and she may set you alight, and she will save herself, first. always herself. self-preserving by nature.

[attr="class","rcapprp2"]OTHER CHARACTERS

[attr="class","rcapprp4"]