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WE KNOW THE DEVIL
They say that in space there’s just endless dark in every direction, only interrupted by the light of the stars, precious few between. There’s no way for humans to imagine something so much bigger than they are, so much bigger than everything anyone they know will ever be.
Galatea reaches for us. The words slipping through her lips are no speech any human has ever known, not in thousands of years, no language anyone alive could ever want to understand. Her eyes are the only light left in the room, gone moon-pale, the candles all blown out in one massive gasp. We know what she wants from us, but if you say it in the dark it can be a secret with no source, and if everything’s dark than nobody has to be at fault.
The devil is lonely. We kicked out the devil and it must miss us.
It keeps begging to be let back, for us to let it in.
And Galatea did.
Every terrible whisper belongs to it. Every thing you’ve ever wanted to tell someone but couldn’t work up the nerve for, every crush you’ve ever had and never confessed to, every secret you offered up to the heavens alone – there is no light for any of them. Choking. Suffocating.
There is no light in this endless void. But we are not alone, hand in hand.
Galatea can’t blind us. We swallow back our secrets and refuse to share.
And the devil only ever gets one moment. For hatred, for longing, for "please speak to me."
But there is nothing to fear when there is two against the devil.
Galatea's affinity is with darkness, night, the void, and secrets. Her associated body part is the lips.
(If nobody hears you say it, did you ever know it in the first place?
If all the lights are gone, it’s safer; you don’t know who you’re talking to, not really, and you can tell them all your secrets because they’re not a face you know.
They’re just a voice in the black.)
Her transformation into the Devil is triggered by her perception (backed up by the events of the night!) that everyone else is just tolerating her because she's the counsellor's pet and the perfect Scout but won't acknowledge her existence outside of that 'role' of being pretty and popular and unfailing, which sort of falls into a cyclical cycle of 'they don't like me because I'm better than them > OF COURSE I'M BETTER THAN THEY ARE' that loops and amplifies until she's smiling through gritted teeth and the Devil comes for her. Lights out, girls and boys.
Finds perpetual yes-man Callisto wildly annoying -- god does he have any opinions of his own, could he fucking stand up for himself once in a while, and does he know how much of a slut he looks like, always getting caught in compromising positions -- and doesn't hesitate to let him know she hates being stuck in a group with him.
- She's just a dumbass fucking lesbian, here to ‘set an example’ for the rest of the kids at camp but doesn’t seem to be very happy about it.
- counsellor’s pet and tattletale
- kind of a profound bitch, actually?
- struggling with the pressure to be a Perfect Example for people to copy + her desires to just go stupid go crazy and kiss girls.
Named after Galatea, a moon of Neptune, & therefore the ivory statue carved by Pygmalion that came to life in Greek mythos. (It's a metaphor for how people put her on a pedestal, perfect and untouchable.)
galatea brings the darkest nights
HEAVEN WILL BE MINE
Memorial Foundation navigator/mechanic; her Gravity capabilities are about night/darkness/whispers. She tested perfectly fine but didn't quite have the proper self-centrance gravity to pilot, and ended up a mechanic instead. She's Not Jealous (she's very jealous). Would like to fight Luna-Terra, but is cognizant enough of her own physical skills to admit Luna-Terra would kick her ass, and not even in, like, a hot way.
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