kyeugh
onion witch
- Pronoun
- she/her
Just a little character bio I made. Here it is!
Symphony was a beautiful, teenaged girl. She had long, chestnut hair that she kept in a ponytail, rosy cheeks, and big, green eyes. She was smart, she was talented, and she was kind. A good deal of boys liked her.
Symphony had a secret, nonetheless, as most perfect people do. It wasn't a bad secret, mind- yet it was unlike the persona she had most of the time. At night, Symphony became Clementine, the hard rocking girl who played electric guitar and sang her heart out. Naturally, the following morning, she would wake up the sweet, caring Symphony she usually was, but the entire day, she longed for the moon to rise so she could take off her mask and be herself.
The only problem was that she feared no one would like the real Symphony. She knew that any reasonable person would easilly take a beautiful, compassionate girl over a snarling, rock-n'-roll girl. She liked to give the public what they wanted- therefore, she changed herself to suit the audience before her. And most of the time, that audience was the one that prefered Symphony, not Clementine.
Symphony's iPhone lit up on the bed-side table. She peered over at it- only one person would send her a message this late at night. Of course, it was from Shade. Symphony had no idea who Shade really was- just as Shade had no idea who Clementine really was. But they were in a band together, and that bulit a bond well enough. The message was only a word long, five letters: "Ready."
Symphony knew exactly what he was talking about. She changed into another pair of clothes- perhaps more comfortable then her regular outfit. A magenta tank, and a pair of olive shorts (which were much too short for her parent's consent), as well as a studded belt and military boots. Carefully, she slipped out the side window, climbed down the tree whose branches extended to the roof, and dashed off across the lawn.
The pale moonlight provided enough for Symphony to see her way through- not that she needed it. She knew every tree, root, rock, and pebble of the place. She could make her way there on a new moon easily.
The building stood there, proud and strong as ever- the Pub, as the band called it. They performed here regularly, and people would come from all over to hear them. It was crickety and wooden, and it swayed slightly, as if it were dancing. Warm, yellow lights were visible through the windows. Symphony opened the door, and rose her hands into the air- they were shaped into a, "rock on," sign. The croud erupted into cheer. Symphony wouldn't be seen dead in a place like this; if she were forced, she would stand there, quiet and timid, waiting until they could leave. Clementine jumped onto the tables, walking across them and kicking food off of them.
She jumped back off, and sauntered onto the stage. She pulled her guitar off the hook and played a clean note. "Ready for this!" she screamed. It wasn't a question.
They played. She screamed the words passionately into the microphone, all the while playing her guitar. She strummed and fingered the strings quicker than almost anyone could. She was great at what she did, and she loved it.
The crowd began to sing iwth her, stomping in tune to the beat Shade played out on his drums. They swayed back and forth, delirious and intoxicated, screaming things off pitch and having a merry old time. This is what Symphony- no, Clementine- this is what Clementine loved, and no one could take it away from her.
Symphony was a beautiful, teenaged girl. She had long, chestnut hair that she kept in a ponytail, rosy cheeks, and big, green eyes. She was smart, she was talented, and she was kind. A good deal of boys liked her.
Symphony had a secret, nonetheless, as most perfect people do. It wasn't a bad secret, mind- yet it was unlike the persona she had most of the time. At night, Symphony became Clementine, the hard rocking girl who played electric guitar and sang her heart out. Naturally, the following morning, she would wake up the sweet, caring Symphony she usually was, but the entire day, she longed for the moon to rise so she could take off her mask and be herself.
The only problem was that she feared no one would like the real Symphony. She knew that any reasonable person would easilly take a beautiful, compassionate girl over a snarling, rock-n'-roll girl. She liked to give the public what they wanted- therefore, she changed herself to suit the audience before her. And most of the time, that audience was the one that prefered Symphony, not Clementine.
Symphony's iPhone lit up on the bed-side table. She peered over at it- only one person would send her a message this late at night. Of course, it was from Shade. Symphony had no idea who Shade really was- just as Shade had no idea who Clementine really was. But they were in a band together, and that bulit a bond well enough. The message was only a word long, five letters: "Ready."
Symphony knew exactly what he was talking about. She changed into another pair of clothes- perhaps more comfortable then her regular outfit. A magenta tank, and a pair of olive shorts (which were much too short for her parent's consent), as well as a studded belt and military boots. Carefully, she slipped out the side window, climbed down the tree whose branches extended to the roof, and dashed off across the lawn.
The pale moonlight provided enough for Symphony to see her way through- not that she needed it. She knew every tree, root, rock, and pebble of the place. She could make her way there on a new moon easily.
The building stood there, proud and strong as ever- the Pub, as the band called it. They performed here regularly, and people would come from all over to hear them. It was crickety and wooden, and it swayed slightly, as if it were dancing. Warm, yellow lights were visible through the windows. Symphony opened the door, and rose her hands into the air- they were shaped into a, "rock on," sign. The croud erupted into cheer. Symphony wouldn't be seen dead in a place like this; if she were forced, she would stand there, quiet and timid, waiting until they could leave. Clementine jumped onto the tables, walking across them and kicking food off of them.
She jumped back off, and sauntered onto the stage. She pulled her guitar off the hook and played a clean note. "Ready for this!" she screamed. It wasn't a question.
They played. She screamed the words passionately into the microphone, all the while playing her guitar. She strummed and fingered the strings quicker than almost anyone could. She was great at what she did, and she loved it.
The crowd began to sing iwth her, stomping in tune to the beat Shade played out on his drums. They swayed back and forth, delirious and intoxicated, screaming things off pitch and having a merry old time. This is what Symphony- no, Clementine- this is what Clementine loved, and no one could take it away from her.
