wouldn't it be lovely?
.the mundane;
Name: Jackie
Journal: wicked_chaotic
Contact: e-mail (seekingchaos@gmail.com); AIM (collared pearls)
How did you hear about us? A little bird. It was blue. It spoke. And sounded a bit like John Lennon.
.the myth;
God(dess): Pasithea
Reference: one, two, three
Family: {mother & father} Hera & Dionysus {spouse} Hypnos {children} Morpheus, Phantasos, & Phobetor
Played By: Audrey Hepburn
Human Alias: Katherine Kerrigan
Human Age: twenty-nine
Goddess of: Relaxation & Hallucinations
Flair: She's the reason that the shadow in the corner stretches to look like claws or the reflection in the hallway mirror seems to move on it's own accord. While her own (personal) hallucinations tend to be more invasive, it'd take some serious exposure-time for her to affect anyone else in such a manner. Usually, it's all more along the lines of seeing something strange out of the corner of your eye than any full-on boggart action.
But don't worry too much about it, anyway. The sudden burst of color or the pink elephants on parade are generally accompanied by an air of mellowed out relaxation. So what if the ceiling fan has turned into an octopus and there's a rainbow coming out of the cereal box? It's all good.
Flair Type: Continuous
Fitting in: A librarian. In the children's section. With the puppets. (It's just like Clue. Only not at all.)
History:
Pasithea is generally regarded as one of the younger Graces, born of a particularly inexplicable (and generally unexplained and/or possessing an explanation ultimately lost to the tides of time) coupling between Hera and Dionysus. (We're assuming it involved a lot of alcohol. Or a devastating accident with a turkey baster. Whichever. She doesn't find herself too terribly concerned about the matter.)
It's more than likely that she spent the majority of the time in between being born and being married with her sisters, acting as an attendant to Aphrodite. Busily inspiring people to make pretty things and pay homage to the gods and hug each other a lot. It was all pretty mellow and largely uneventful, for the most part.
Or it was, until that whole mess with the Trojan War. (Most of which Pasithea really didn't/doesn't care about.) During the war, Hera called upon Hypnos, the god of sleep, and asked for a favor. She needed him to put Zeus to sleep so that she could do her part to support Greek victory. Hypnos, for his part, wasn't particularly keen on the idea. So, first, she offered him a golden throne to sit on while he drank his wine. (Hephaestus-made - so we're talking quality craftsmanship here.) Hypnos still wasn't feeling it. And then Hera changed tactics and went with, 'I'll give you my kid. She's pretty. I know you want her. I've totally seen you checking her out.'
This plan, it can be noted, was largely successful.
And though she was something gift-wrapped and given in return for favors, Pasithea remained more than content to be her husband's. It wasn't as though she was forced into a horrible situation, by any means. While she might not have been expecting or particularly desiring of marriage at that juncture, no one made her do anything that she didn't want to. Honestly. An utterly ridiculous thing to suggest.
Though she might have appreciated it if her mother had asked her first. It is merely common courtesy, after all. But it was not a bad life to be given into in the least Hypnos' pining had been awfully sweet. And Aphrodite called him a vagabond. One cannot long resist such charming words for much too long. They sound so terribly dashing. So, while she might not have been terribly lovesick at the beginning, she was (understandably) easily won over. (A vagabond. And she was more tempting than offers of golden thrones. Seriously, just like that. Instantly wooed.)
And then they lived in caves in the far west, near the gates of the Underworld, had themselves a handful of children, and spent a good deal of time being domestic, mildly insane (mostly on her part) and very very lazy (on both of their parts). It's at such a point - mother and wife and sleepily settled - that she finds herself suddenly (if not entirely unexpectedly, she does pay attention) mortal.
Personality:
If there was real estate to be sold somewhere just to the left of proper reality, Pasithea would be its chief agent. Head of the firm and at the top of sales. Gold stars all the way across the proverbial sticker chart of success.
Pasithea is a rail-thin, slip of a thing. She's small in stature and doesn't quite manage to cut all that imposing of a figure with her slender limbs and generally dreamy disposition. Not that she's overly concerned with such things. Getting oneself worked up unnecessarily simply wouldn't be energy efficient and would be horribly loud. And loud things upset her husband.
She tends to be, in turn, directly to the point and utterly disjointed. Don't ask her opinion unless you actually want it. Because if she thinks that you're being an idiot? She'll tell you. (Unless you're her husband. And then she'll kiss you. And then tell you you're being an idiot.) The language might be pretty and the message might be accidentally coded and slipped in between entirely unrelated observations on life, the universe, and everything - but the point should get across.
She isn't a Maniae. Any loud or particularly crazed episodes tend to be more along the lines of a bad trip - something not often occurring - and less of an inevitability. She's a Charity, after all, and gracefulness and beauty in social intercourse are therefore attributed to them. She's perfectly eloquent, if a bit lax in her definition of what constitutes proper social intercourse.
Not to imply that she doesn't have her moments - I mean, Nonnus was all "[she] tore her cheeks with her nails" in distress when Daddy dearest was having an experience with his own brand of crazy during his war against the Indians. It happens. (Her parentage alone can attest to that.) But, generally speaking, she's more often humming to herself or talking to people that no one else can see than scouring her face into bleeding lines and wailing in tongues. That just wouldn't be becoming. Not that that's a great concern. Public opinion? Not really high on the importance scale. But still. Grace. There's something to be said for it. And her husband keeps her quite content and calm, thank you for your concern.
To be fair, Pasithea has her moments of perfect lucidity as well. Every so often. But she happens to find those a far less interesting topic of discussion.
Sample Roleplay:
There were, of course, things to be done before she could permit herself to see her husband. Important things. (Only very important things could ever be permitted to get in the way of seeing Hypnos.) One simply had to be presentable when returning home after a long absence. One had to make certain that they were at the very height of desirability. It was only reasonable.
Preparations had to be made. Her sleeves were buttoned, her collar was straight, and her skirt was smoothed. Those things were already in order. But, then, those were very simple things. Mere child's play.
Knowing how to properly utilize a new face was a far more multifaceted process.
The necessary exercises proceeded as follows:
- Locate a mirror.
- Note: This, as a step, had already been completed in order to best facilitate proper buttoning and straightening and smoothing, but it was important to note and, therefore, should be reiterated. Even if only for the sake of completeness.
- Blink.
- She did. Twice. Such actions moistened the eyes. And the use of one's eyes were necessary when attending to details.
- Practice.
- She twitched her nose to the side. She fluttered her lashes. (Simple things first, even in this.)
- She pulled her lips into a frown, eyebrows beetling together sternly.
- She tilted her head, turned it and regarded her profile (right, then left) with all the solemn attention of an artist.
- She crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue - and she laughed. (Which was not strictly a necessary step, but was a rather enjoyable one nevertheless. She had quite a pleasant laugh. She would enjoy the opportunity to practice it further.)
- She nodded, motion sharp and decisive, and grinned.
The monkey on her shoulder tipped his hat, but did not offer any further reply. But that, she supposed, was quite all right.