Yes, yes it is! I don’t mind at all.
Oh god ashjdbasg, thanks so much <3 I love the way you play Fiora as well. It’s a change of pace in the way that I’ve seen so many other Courtesan RPer’s played.
I started RPing the Harlequin when I was in a very, very severely depressed state. I didn’t find any other characters appealing (except Subject 16, which I did RP for a time in this very masterlist). Back then, I used the Harlequin as a scapegoat,a voodoo doll to pin and torture, which was in itself torturing my own mind. It was fun, for me, because I was able to vent and to write and to decipher/destroy the very character of the character.
I identify with him the most, because I let my own problems flow into him and basically made him a personality clone of me. Besides the badassery and such. But primarily, he was a very depressed little jester.
Now, I play him because through him, I can formulate and creat. I am able to take and to go from that darker period and moveabout whichever I want, because now that I am him (in a sense), I am able to explore and interact with all of you lovely people in a lovely period of time and in a (still) unstable mind.
“Don’t shy away from the light.” said the one who was over there. “But it’s bright, it hurts my eyes, father.” said the younger one. “True, the sun does seem so high and so stinging, but if you let it in and you wait for your eyes to adjust, son, it will be alright, it will be just fine.”
The child walked forward, still blinded and unknowing and tripped over his own feet, but as soon as he fell, there was something to grab him. His father, quickly walked over and lifted him from the ground, smiling amicably at his wayward son who was still too young to grasp certain things, but old enough to know that he was lost.
Cahin thought. He wondered if there was someone like that for him. Someone like that for all of everyone. To clear and explain, to pick him up when he fell. It was a curious cavalcade of thoughts and vestiges which pervaded the mainstay of his calculations. Calculations that needed not be had, but would be important should he need to know, if he need to know. Would he? No.
At least, to know that there were those for others, for the young, for the tired, for the weary, was a blessing in of itself, for at least he knew that someone knew, that someone was holding onto a hope to a thought, though long lost.
It made the jester sigh.
Heh…now I feel like a fool.
Do not feel so, it is how things are.
Still doesn’t cover up the fact that I feel like a fool for allowing my greed to wish for something I won’t be able to own.
The mask or I?