04-05-2023, 10:37 PM
In the depths of winter an infant is left on the steps of the Santissima Annunziata Maggiore. It is swaddled tight in a basket, cheeks pink from the cold. It does not cry. Its eyes are open and unblinking. On top of it lays a heavy crucifix, and pinned beneath there is a note. It reads: This is not my baby.
Years later, a carnival arrives in Naples. A small child wanders amongst the stalls, drifting as if in a daze. She can be no more than eight. Her clothes are poor and her hair ratty, but she is clean enough, and she has shoes on her feet. No one seems to claim her. She does not speak to anyone, though occasionally she tags behind other groups, following a while before her attention splits to something else.
Eventually she stops near where another girl is playing a violin. The first girl does not smile but she is apparently transfixed. She settles into contentment, and listens for a long time.
When everyone else has gone, and the carnival closes for the night, she is still there.
No one came looking for Esper. The welcome she received from the Vas family settled into her bones like sunshine and liquorice, spreading her through with warmth for the first time after a very cold winter. By the time the caravans were ready to move on, it was natural for them to take her with them. Esper was content to go.
She didn't speak for months. Not because she couldn't but because in the past she had always noticed a speck of concern when she did, like she was doing it wrong. That speck usually only grew larger, into wariness, for Esper always proved more perceptive than her years indicated she should be. She understood she was an outsider. She knew how to survive too. But pushing emotions dampened the euphoria of her senses. She didn't want to make them want her; she wanted them to actually want her.
It felt far better.
So it was easier, at first, just to stay quiet.
She was understood to be an odd child even still. She didn't run around like the other children, preferring to watch their antics from the sidelines, sometimes with the daze of a half-smile on her lips. The grownups made their own minds up as to why she was so withdrawn; she heard them talking sometimes, supposing on her past. Something bad must have happened, they reasoned. They never considered that she might be the bad thing. Still, for their kind hospitality Esper made herself useful. She completed chores. Learned what they taught. Sometimes when the caravans stopped, Esper would disappear to explore. But she always came back.
From the very beginning, where Roza was to be found, Esper was to be found too. Music spun like sugar in her ears, and the lure never quite faded even when the sound did. They were thick as thieves almost from the moment Esper had first stopped to listen to her play. Roza was the first person she chose to speak to, a tickled whisper in the ear one night while they were wrapped up under blankets. There were many whispers and giggles each night after that, until someone yelled for them to be quiet so everyone else could sleep. They traded secrets and promises, childish and earnest. Like the world would always be just for the two of them.
Roza was the only person she confided in about the extent of her capabilities. Not that the other girl believed, at first. But Esper shared in the solemn pact of their friendship and did not smile or laugh when she said it. She provided proof when asked, and a vow after: a promise never to do so again without consent. Afterwards she waited for a reaction, attentive for the sharp tang of fear, but it never came. For the first time in her life, Esper wondered if she had found a home.
As she grew older she tried her hand at various parts of the carnival. She is a natural performer, drawn especially by the emotional arts. She loves music, dance, and theatre, though has no ability in the first, just appreciation. On the stage she craves the adoration and awe of the audience, particularly the sort that comes from a perception of skill. Invoking strong emotion is an addictive feeling. As such she never uses the push on the crowds, but sometimes uses it to coax other performers into a heightened state. Sometimes it transcends acting. Other times it gets her into trouble, encouraging things too far. She learned the cards from Renáta too, adept at reading people, and content to spin stories the more rapt the attention grows. She doesn’t use the push on family, and certainly never in personal situations. It is an aid for performance or the con.
After years of quiet observation Esper grew mischievous as a teenager; realised she enjoyed manipulating people to evoke emotion, good and bad both. She and Roza were never malicious, but certainly they were a spirited force between them. Where one led the other followed.
She never knew true fear until Roza grew sick. Esper stayed by her bedside, though it made her feel queasy inside. Not the flavour of the emotion itself, but that it came from Roza. She did not push, though she wanted to; just to ease the fear and pain. But a promise made was not something she’d break. Roza was deep in delirium. The most Esper could do was hold her hand and live through it with her.
The carnival stayed in Moscow after Roza and her brother recovered, encouraged by a cousin who’d already carved himself a home in the Undercity. Sándor’s emotions didn’t always match his expressions, and sometimes he churned inside like a maelstrom. But he bought gifts and smiles, and Esper never sensed a reason to mistrust him. Under his wing she fell naturally into the underworld, tugging Roza along behind her. It was a whole new world.
Description: Esper’s appearance is often fluid according to whim, mood, and surroundings. She changes her hair colour and style frequently but has no tattoos. Naturally she’s dark-haired and hazel eyed, slim, and average tall. Her eyes are large and hooded. Sometimes her expression is a thousand miles away and other times she’s unnervingly intense.
Esper’s naturally morose at first glance, but there is something slyly mischievous beneath the surface. As a result she is often misjudged. Admittedly she enjoys taking people’s perceptions by surprise, for she likes attention and is not shy. Her age is indeterminate but young, probably seventeen or eighteen, though often she dresses up older. Her humour is sarcastic and morbid but she’s rarely unkind. She thrives on emotion of any kind, but has her favourites, in part dependant on who the emotion stems from.
The purest emotion is not pushed, and thus the sensation she much prefers. But she perceives a difference between marks and family, and will use her ability to her advantage. She’s drawn to mass gatherings, especially for a common purpose, where the emotion is heightened. She enjoys nightclubs and has been sneaking in longer than she’s been of age. Music is a great lure. But she makes a distinction between performance and leisure. On stage anything goes, but in her own time she prefers that most keep their hands to themselves. Sometimes when she and Roza are out dancing she pushes subtly around them; fans out that sense of Otherness, and keeps people at a distance from them both.
Notably Esper believes in the binding contract of her word, though this is often to the letter rather than the spirit. A promise made she will keep, though she rarely makes them. Neither will she speak an untruth, finding it base. Manipulation, misdirection, omission; these are other things, and qualities for which she finds no shame. She would never steal, but if a door is left unlocked it’s an invitation for exploration. Her moral code is distinctive and personal. She marches to her own drum and always has.
Her attachment to Roza is strong. Esper thrives on the effervescence of her personality, and it is solely down to their connection that she has stayed so long with the carnival. She is enchanted when Roza plays; she could spend hours listening and watching. The first time she witnessed the swirl and glow of her new gift Esper was in trance-like awe. The strength of every emotion magnified.
Years later, a carnival arrives in Naples. A small child wanders amongst the stalls, drifting as if in a daze. She can be no more than eight. Her clothes are poor and her hair ratty, but she is clean enough, and she has shoes on her feet. No one seems to claim her. She does not speak to anyone, though occasionally she tags behind other groups, following a while before her attention splits to something else.
Eventually she stops near where another girl is playing a violin. The first girl does not smile but she is apparently transfixed. She settles into contentment, and listens for a long time.
When everyone else has gone, and the carnival closes for the night, she is still there.
No one came looking for Esper. The welcome she received from the Vas family settled into her bones like sunshine and liquorice, spreading her through with warmth for the first time after a very cold winter. By the time the caravans were ready to move on, it was natural for them to take her with them. Esper was content to go.
She didn't speak for months. Not because she couldn't but because in the past she had always noticed a speck of concern when she did, like she was doing it wrong. That speck usually only grew larger, into wariness, for Esper always proved more perceptive than her years indicated she should be. She understood she was an outsider. She knew how to survive too. But pushing emotions dampened the euphoria of her senses. She didn't want to make them want her; she wanted them to actually want her.
It felt far better.
So it was easier, at first, just to stay quiet.
She was understood to be an odd child even still. She didn't run around like the other children, preferring to watch their antics from the sidelines, sometimes with the daze of a half-smile on her lips. The grownups made their own minds up as to why she was so withdrawn; she heard them talking sometimes, supposing on her past. Something bad must have happened, they reasoned. They never considered that she might be the bad thing. Still, for their kind hospitality Esper made herself useful. She completed chores. Learned what they taught. Sometimes when the caravans stopped, Esper would disappear to explore. But she always came back.
From the very beginning, where Roza was to be found, Esper was to be found too. Music spun like sugar in her ears, and the lure never quite faded even when the sound did. They were thick as thieves almost from the moment Esper had first stopped to listen to her play. Roza was the first person she chose to speak to, a tickled whisper in the ear one night while they were wrapped up under blankets. There were many whispers and giggles each night after that, until someone yelled for them to be quiet so everyone else could sleep. They traded secrets and promises, childish and earnest. Like the world would always be just for the two of them.
Roza was the only person she confided in about the extent of her capabilities. Not that the other girl believed, at first. But Esper shared in the solemn pact of their friendship and did not smile or laugh when she said it. She provided proof when asked, and a vow after: a promise never to do so again without consent. Afterwards she waited for a reaction, attentive for the sharp tang of fear, but it never came. For the first time in her life, Esper wondered if she had found a home.
As she grew older she tried her hand at various parts of the carnival. She is a natural performer, drawn especially by the emotional arts. She loves music, dance, and theatre, though has no ability in the first, just appreciation. On the stage she craves the adoration and awe of the audience, particularly the sort that comes from a perception of skill. Invoking strong emotion is an addictive feeling. As such she never uses the push on the crowds, but sometimes uses it to coax other performers into a heightened state. Sometimes it transcends acting. Other times it gets her into trouble, encouraging things too far. She learned the cards from Renáta too, adept at reading people, and content to spin stories the more rapt the attention grows. She doesn’t use the push on family, and certainly never in personal situations. It is an aid for performance or the con.
After years of quiet observation Esper grew mischievous as a teenager; realised she enjoyed manipulating people to evoke emotion, good and bad both. She and Roza were never malicious, but certainly they were a spirited force between them. Where one led the other followed.
She never knew true fear until Roza grew sick. Esper stayed by her bedside, though it made her feel queasy inside. Not the flavour of the emotion itself, but that it came from Roza. She did not push, though she wanted to; just to ease the fear and pain. But a promise made was not something she’d break. Roza was deep in delirium. The most Esper could do was hold her hand and live through it with her.
The carnival stayed in Moscow after Roza and her brother recovered, encouraged by a cousin who’d already carved himself a home in the Undercity. Sándor’s emotions didn’t always match his expressions, and sometimes he churned inside like a maelstrom. But he bought gifts and smiles, and Esper never sensed a reason to mistrust him. Under his wing she fell naturally into the underworld, tugging Roza along behind her. It was a whole new world.
Description: Esper’s appearance is often fluid according to whim, mood, and surroundings. She changes her hair colour and style frequently but has no tattoos. Naturally she’s dark-haired and hazel eyed, slim, and average tall. Her eyes are large and hooded. Sometimes her expression is a thousand miles away and other times she’s unnervingly intense.
Esper’s naturally morose at first glance, but there is something slyly mischievous beneath the surface. As a result she is often misjudged. Admittedly she enjoys taking people’s perceptions by surprise, for she likes attention and is not shy. Her age is indeterminate but young, probably seventeen or eighteen, though often she dresses up older. Her humour is sarcastic and morbid but she’s rarely unkind. She thrives on emotion of any kind, but has her favourites, in part dependant on who the emotion stems from.
The purest emotion is not pushed, and thus the sensation she much prefers. But she perceives a difference between marks and family, and will use her ability to her advantage. She’s drawn to mass gatherings, especially for a common purpose, where the emotion is heightened. She enjoys nightclubs and has been sneaking in longer than she’s been of age. Music is a great lure. But she makes a distinction between performance and leisure. On stage anything goes, but in her own time she prefers that most keep their hands to themselves. Sometimes when she and Roza are out dancing she pushes subtly around them; fans out that sense of Otherness, and keeps people at a distance from them both.
Notably Esper believes in the binding contract of her word, though this is often to the letter rather than the spirit. A promise made she will keep, though she rarely makes them. Neither will she speak an untruth, finding it base. Manipulation, misdirection, omission; these are other things, and qualities for which she finds no shame. She would never steal, but if a door is left unlocked it’s an invitation for exploration. Her moral code is distinctive and personal. She marches to her own drum and always has.
Her attachment to Roza is strong. Esper thrives on the effervescence of her personality, and it is solely down to their connection that she has stayed so long with the carnival. She is enchanted when Roza plays; she could spend hours listening and watching. The first time she witnessed the swirl and glow of her new gift Esper was in trance-like awe. The strength of every emotion magnified.