Claire
Stardustrash
- Created
- 10 months, 12 days ago
- Creator
- Stardustrash
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CLAIRE
- Sickly pale pink skin.
- Dark pink gradient on fingertips.
- Big round red eyes with no pupils.
- Short red velvet hair.
- Ball-joint prosthetic legs (like a doll).
- Pink degraded empty heart in the middle of her chest (birthmark).
- Fashion aesthetic: Dark Victorian.
The enigmatic heiress of the Berrycloth family who possesses more knowledge than her young age suggests. Cold, calculating and authoritarian, she exerts a strong control over those around her, although she shows a sincere interest in the well-being of her servants and assumes full responsibility for any mistakes under her command. Her strong sense of justice drives her to make drastic decisions when necessary.
Likes: Chess, stuffed animals, raw meat, her cat Salem.
Dislikes: Lack of punctuality, staying inside, puns.
- The bows on her dress simulate a ribcage, and the back bow a pelvis.
- Claire is disabled and uses a wheelchair. She is able to walk but not for long. They rarely use a cane, but it's always nearby.
- She's a defective homunculus, so she can't physically age more than the original Clare. She is stuck with the appearance of a child, despite no longer being one.
- Claire is Hatty's niece, however she is unaware of their family connection.
- Her birthday is the 15th of April, also known as Children's Day.
- Claire's creation was inspired by the manga "Kuroshitsuji" and the saying "a wolf in sheep's clothing".
When I dream, my memories drag me back.
I see my mother dressing me in fine lace, combing my hair, and leading me into the living room in front of guests. I smiled and repeated her words to please her, while everyone bowed to the "poor disabled daughter". At first, it seemed like a normal family, but soon every unusual gesture, every out-of-place word, hardened her gaze. She forbade me from leaving, locking me in her study, floating in that tank like a broken object to be repaired. Every attempt to escape was punished.
Until the fire broke out. A vial fell, and flames engulfed the laboratory. I pounded on the glass from within, desperate, as she ran toward the withered corpse of the real Clare, ignoring my silent screams. She didn't choose me; she chose to save a dead memory.
I can still feel the heat of the floor as she crawled toward the door, the smell of smoke, the beams collapsing around us as she was engulfed by the fire. Every time I close my eyes, I return to that moment.
─── ⋆⋅ + ⋅⋆ ──────˗ˏˋ- 𐕣 -ˊˎ˗────── ⋆⋅ + ⋅⋆ ───
"Miss... It's time to get up", a deep voice gently wakes me up.
I open my eyes and see the tall, hunched figure of my butler. "Good morning... Arthur?", I ask still sleepy.
Like every morning in this ritual that I never win, he shakes his head slowly without losing his calm. He leans over, pulls my wheelchair closer with his inexhaustible patience and helps me get ready for the day.
