04 February 2014 @ 09:55 am
[ Carla does not look like her usual self. She has been frozen in time for years, trapped at the twenty-four she was shot and killed at. It wasn't that the time didn't show on her, her eyes were heavy and her skin was scarred, but she had remained the lithe and whip-sharp creature she had been in her youth. She looks more comfortable now, like she's settled into her skin and let it feel like her own again.

If you asked her how she broke the curse and let her body age again, she wouldn't answer you. It's not a polite topic of conversation to discuss a woman's age, and she had never expected to get this far.

More than ten years since yesterday.

She has a water bottle in her hands, looking out from a balcony that's perched just above the tree line, the house itself built up onto a hill. A familiar estate to some. ]

The gallery opens at eleven, the show is at three. I expect all of you to come. The food's free, as long as you buy something.

[ A wry little smile, teeth still sharp in all of her expressions. She finishes off the water bottle and heads inside, taking the device with her to display a wall of various pieces of art. ]

If you donate enough, you can come home with me for dinner.

[ The smiles are still lewd too. ]

[[ooc; Grownup Carla that was never destined to beeee. Decided to pull her forward in body and mind, so she's doing that art thing in her big fancy house with her pack of monster dogs. Replies will come from [personal profile] ecorche

Can go for action anywhere you like! ]]
25 January 2014 @ 07:40 pm
[ ooc; Continuing the saga of 'Carla is a shameless monster': see here for details. ]

[ It isn't the norm to see Carla amongst a group when she makes these videos. She socializes, certainly, but she preferred those outings anonymous. Right now, however, she seems to be sitting in a well-outfitted home surrounded by pretty things. Including one she happens to be sitting on, but the angle of the camera excludes this, instead showing fawning things leaning in towards her, others that offer her food on silver trays and smile at everything she says. ]

It's a quiet morning...

[ Apparently she sees this glom of sycophants as a norm right now. ]

Who's coming for lunch?

[ ooc; all dolls and visitors can jump straight to action. ]
OOC; You people know Carla is a shameless monster.

14 January 2014 @ 05:58 pm
[ The device, as always, is in her pocket and as always it is not the cellphone she is familiar with. It will not call Facon, and it will not call Cotnari. She's almost used to it now though, being jerked back and forth between lives, expectations, sitting in between states and never able to settle into one.

She's dressed well, for once, a white suit and sunglasses. She had been on a boat, watching a pirate lounge in front of her ganglord and ask what he could do for her.

Carla stares down into the device in her palm and it flickers to life, always so obnoxiously cheeky.

Carla's resigned to it. ]

You never can resist interrupting.

[ A hand goes back through her hair, and she looks around the square. Only a few people look back at her. It is, in fact, not the strange for people to come out of the sky around here. ]

I'm sure you all must have missed me.

17 December 2013 @ 09:05 am
[ She hasn't lived in one of the tall city apartment complexes in quite some time now. It had gotten to be too bloody and too haunted at some point, and she had moved down by the water. It was more peaceful there for her. Today, however, she's gone back to where she started, cold wind pulling fingers through her hair. ]

Two years now. [ There's a rustling noise, camera tumbled around in her hands as she pulls open an aluminum wrapping. A piece of candy gets popped in her mouth, chewing for a moment before she continues, ] All I wanted was to go home. I didn't want mon amour to think he could get away from me that easily.

[ She sits down on the ledge of the building, her body facing inwards and her eyes facing out over the city. ]

And I spent the rest of the time wanting to die.

[ The camera is set down, leaving her free to unwrap another piece of candy, throwing the little gold wrapper out into the open where the wind takes it away. ]

That's still all that's waiting back there. I'm in no hurry.

MISTLETOE -- Action Open to All
[ This appears to be a Clarissa Explains It All style video, with Carla addressing the camera directly. She doesn't know what possessed her, but really, when does she ever resist the chance to dole out unsolicited advice? ]

If you really want to know the secret to a good relationship... Don't let anyone ever tell you that revenge isn't sweet, and take whatever you want.

[ A smile. ]

Next question, please.

[[ooc; Welcome to Carla Explains It All, my interpretation of bad 90s life lessons. Ask her your questions. Get hideous advice. ]]
23 November 2013 @ 07:28 pm
[ She's out and about, currently pausing in the park to note, ]

I don't know how many times this has happened, but I only see someone I'd actually want to about two out of ten times.

[ Sigh. ]

[[ooc; all the 4th wall all the time]]
18 November 2013 @ 01:40 pm
[ Below you will find a series of inflammatory notes. The names are left blank in this representation, as they will display the name of someone you love. Your momma, indeed. ]

_________ gives it up to half-breeds
_________'s patronus is a mutating box of festering bug parts
_________ rinses with a malodorous mouthful of fossilized camel hairs

[ And on and on. ]

[ The other note is only slightly less awful, ]

Skip the match. Dungeon pit. Bring victims. All in good fun.


[ Carla has arranged a little party in the castle dungeons. And by party I mean hazing younger students. She's promised them something along the lines of popularity and connections in exchange for their total cooperation.

A series of tasks have been lined up. Some simply painful, some simply humiliating, and some simply both. ]


[ She'll be around, feel free to make your own scenario. ]

[[ooc; replies from [personal profile] anuglybloom, Slytherin 6th year.]]
14 October 2013 @ 05:50 pm
It's better than love. Thank you for the gifts.
07 October 2013 @ 05:11 pm
[ It is a rare sighting of a calm Carla. She's sitting, perched on top of a wooden stool, paintbrush poised. The odd thing about the scene is that she's in front of a sink, which leads one to believe... she is probably painting on the mirror. ]

You know what you are.

[She has occasionally been notorious for her unsolicited advice, and here is another dollop.]

You don't forget. You see it, every single day.

[Hyper focused on her work, she doesn't take her eyes away from where she is blotting out whatever it is she sees in that mirror. She makes a few more strokes before she picks up the camera and turns it on the piece:]

[A brief showing before she gathers everything up, leaving the bathroom. It reveals her to be in her beach front flat today, and the many large glass windows have yet to be covered. If you have quick eyes or cleverly rewind, you can see the rotting woman in the reflections, little flashes of grey skin and sunken eyes, lank thinning hair.]

You're all ugly.

[Her tone doesn't suggest an insult but acceptance. And if you wish to hang around and watch, she sets up at her large two-paned sliding door and begins to paint there as well:]

12 September 2013 @ 10:54 am
[ It isn't the first time she's appeared on the network bloody, but never quite so much before. Her clothing is soaked, it is beginning to go tacky in her hair. It is smeared all across her face. Carla Morir has looked crazed on the network before as well, but never quite like this either. The pupils in her brown eyes are blown, huge and black and thoughtless. She's breathing heavily, blood hissing wetly from her teeth and lips with the force of it, her chest heaving.

She has something clutched in her hands, indefinable but bloody and wet like the rest of this scene. She stares down at the camera on the ground for a long, furious, moment and then as if something breaks, she drops down to her knees screaming and begins to smash the device with a fist; which rends without care against concrete and broken plastic.

As the device loses functionality, her screaming crackles electronically and breaks and then is finally gone. ]

[[ooc; she ate her not!boyfriend, she be cray. I figure she's going to flip her shit for a bit and then pass the fuck out. If you want to catch up with her at the 'family' estate you're welcome to do that. Or deal with her cray first hand. Whatever makes it float.

Forward dated a bit because I don't tend to tag a lot on weekends and know I'm going out Friday night.]]
08 September 2013 @ 12:00 pm
[ The camera is on the edge of a sink, pointed up towards a mirror which leaves Carla's hands free as she slowly runs a comb through long black hair. She's in the process of getting ready, in simple black underwear. She's... an attractive woman, but a little too thin and her skin bears too much of her self-hate. There are also some very large tattoos. A serpent with its tail at her knee, wound around her leg and its head at her stomach. When she turns away from the mirror, the inked spine up her back shows. There is apparently a new piece however, wrapped in gauze around her other thigh, large judging from the amount. ]

It's my birthday.

[ She states this while pulling on a simple red dress, sleeveless with buttons up the center. The pair of dog tattoos may be obvious as she fiddles the garment closed. She cleans up well. ]

Someone needs to take me to dinner.

[ Stated without a shred of shame. She also doesn't seem particularly... excited about the prospect of a birthday dinner either. Her brown eyes never really lift to try to make eye contact with the camera. And not with herself in the mirror either. ]
09 August 2013 @ 09:43 am
[ Carla has been in possession of the Iris for a year now. It was left to her by an old bounty hunting partner. She's gotten out of that business by now... for the most part. She doesn't take Iris out sailing often, it's a bit difficult to manage on her own, but she has been known to sleep there, to spend the day out there. Her hellhound Rex was fond of being on board, feeling the wind in his face from the deck. Rex and Peanut are the only men on board today.

The women are watching from the rails as the ship glides towards the city in silence. There isn't really an official captain amongst them, just the woman who inherited the boat from the true captain, and Carla is silent for a long time. ]

[ The camera catches her faint smile in the dark, nearly hidden amongst the wind-swept mess of her black hair. ]

We'll be taking it all.

[[ooc; The crew of the Iris is all women. If you're a lady and would like a crew, well. Then. Here we are. Officially, We've got Carla, Pai, Asami, and Anya on the list. You're welcome to do whatever you like on this post, or make posts of your own, you know the drill.

For myself, I don't tend to tag a lot over the weekends, so I'm likely to backtagging well into next week.]]

[ The house is a little bit outside the city, swathed heavily in evergreens, but it's gorgeous. Carla supposes that's what she can't quite get over, because she's struck by it every time they've visited.

They won't be visiting anymore. And even if she has her camera trained up at it with one hand, there's a box under her other arm. She lowers the view to where a little girl with curly blonde hair is near the front door, staring up. A pair of dogs scampering nearby to her.

Another swing in frame, behind them with a borrowed car is a man sorting through the boxes in the trunk.

The last turn is to Carla's own face. She looks apprehensive about this whole process, her eyes flicking back and forth between the little girl and the man. Eventually she sighs, murmuring, ]

Welcome home.

[The camera lowers, about to be shut off as she calls,]

Come on, Victoria, we have a lot of work to do.

[[ooc; [personal profile] victoria_stay, [personal profile] unflagging and Carla are making a hideous family this weekend. Fact. Action is fine if anybody wants to housewarm... or gawk.]]
26 July 2013 @ 09:51 am
[Her voice is deep, melodious. She doesn't sing, but she does chant the little spell with a lilting air.]

Ladybird Ladybird, fly away home. Your house is on fire, your children shall burn. Ladybird Ladybird, fly away home. Your house is on fire, your children shall burn. Ladybird Ladybird, fly away home. Your house is on fire, your children shall burn.

[And her tone changes with a snap, shouting:] Come look at me, you fucking bitch.


I bet you're happy.

[Then quietly,] He was supposed to be the one to suffer.

[[ooc; Losing her shit after being cured of the plague, like I promised. Anyone who wants to just jump straight to action is welcome to. The folks she'd go to know who they are. For the rest, the doors are unlocked at the flat. Action threads come with a tw: self-harm.

This is also forward dated a few days, because I really don't tend to tag on weekends.]]
[Carla has experience this sensation before. While languishing away in her one-true-god's domain, she had felt exactly like this. Trapped inside a fading shell, unseen by the world and increasingly unknown to herself. It had led her somewhere dreadful the last time, she had tried to fend it off with a false sense of purpose: her love for her 'master', her place as his 'art.' She still hates herself for it, still wishes she had let go of her vanity and taken sweet, bloody vengeance on the arrogant man who had pulled her back from death to play doll for him.

She can't stand it. Can't stand going unrecognized by those she depends on, going unheard and unnoticed. All she ever wanted, long before the bullet pierced her skull, was to leave marks on the world, to scratch herself into others with a pain they would remember fondly.

She hates this rotting feeling.

It does her very little good, but she has the video of her device trained on her face, is talking with a great deal of emphasis, anger and panic showing in her expression, in the way she motions with her hands and tries to grip someone's, anyone's, attention.

But there's no sound, and for some there may be no woman visible either.]
JULY 19th - DREAM - Creepy and Violent

[[ooc; Catchall post, forward dated a bit because I am always a backtagger. Here is her info and essence rite. It is open to anyone if they're up for being violent. Carla will thank you, kindly. Which may be a horrible thing. Action/thread with fading-woman is welcome from anybody too.]]
10 June 2013 @ 11:56 am
[It's a lovely day for a picnic, isn't it? Carla is spread out on a checkered blanket with an assortment of snacks, watching something she finds terribly entertaining from afar. She picks at the fruit salad, popping pieces into her mouth with her fingers.

After a moment, she calls out a criticism,]

You could work on his aim a little.

[She lifts the device to turn the camera around, like a mother recording baby's first steps. Her little black and tan Shiba Inu is prancing excitedly around Archangel Michael, little bursts of flame exiting his mouth with every bounce.]

He's missing the worms.

[Michael waves at her, as if to tell her to shut up because she's being annoying, then kneels.]

Yeah, yeah. Hang on. Oi! [He's talking to the dog now.] Ya want ta have a treat? Then do this.

[And he fries a worm.]

Now you do it.

[The dog sits, staring up at Michael eagerly, only to send a fireball up into his face. Wrong target, Peanut. Michael just brushes the fire away because Angel of Fire.]

Wrong target, dumb ass. [He aims the dog's head at a worm.] That one.

[Peanut yips in confusion, inadvertently scorching the worm in front of him....]

Good dog! [Michael grins and offers him a treat. Then aims him at another.] Do it again!

[Oh hey. Praise. Peanut glances up at Michael, but definitely has it down now. Yip. Sizzle. Yip. Sizzle.]

[Carla claps, setting down the camera again to flop on her picnic blanket and carry on stuffing her face.]
I would have become a slavering animal. He was all I had to keep my mind in place, and it was still deteriorating. I would have eaten him eventually. Eventually.

I decided my mind was more important than my dignity.

He decided that his art was more important than my dignity. He made the choice and I didn't kill him for it.

Because I loved him. He was all that was there to love.

I wasn't worth it anymore, rotting away and hungry for what I couldn't have.

And he never gave it. He kept me starving for him.

I should have eaten his throat out while he was sleeping.
26 May 2013 @ 10:00 am
[[ooc; I split up 24th/25th because this set contains triggering subject matter of suicide/self-harm.]]

[The singing has changed since the day before, tempting voices echoing all throughout the City. Hers is still low in its pitch, but her sonorousness has finally found its melody, and her coaxing reaches out to you:]