Ophelia, one of the daughters of the aristocrat Edward. She was the older of two twin daughters by about five minutes. Her temperment was a bit more demanding than her sisters in ways or less firey in others. Their mother had unfortunately died after giving birth, having never quite been all that strong. She was the only woman that their father really ever loved, so he never remarried. They were the only daughters, the only heirs. They were renowned beauties in their city, some of the most popular among the young woman.
Today was their birthday, their eighteenth birthday. Little did they, or anyone else know, of the strange occurances which would start that night, after the ball in particular. There was another reason why there mother had been so weak when carrying the twins, she had been exposed to something no one ever talked about. A thing from space, a meteorite, came crashing into the garden where their mother had been only a month into pregnancy. No one would know the after effects, except for one of the healers. The healer was old, everyone called her crazy and she was kicked out. Ever since no one has knwon of her whereabouts, some say she lives deep in the forest.

July 17th~ The Birthday

"This isn't the color ribbon I wanted for my hat! I said the red one, not white." Yelled Ophelia as she was being dressed for the ball of their birthday that night. The seamstresses and maid servants were scurrying about. There was only five hours before the ball and there was plenty to do. She had selected her dress from the newer fashion pictures as she always did.
This years dress was a corset top that was cut much lower than usual and was more tighter. This showed off her perfectly curved figure, a naturally slim waste and full hips and bust. The bottom flared far out, a bit more than usaul, but in an elegant way. This time she chose a black wig as opposed to the usal white. This corresponded with her black dress. There was red lacing that traced a pattern along the corset and blossomed into a dark flower for the skirt. The under skirt was white and showed just a bit as she walked. The hat she chose was of a deep gray shade and had black feathers, along with a now red ribbon attached.
She slipped on her black stockings and threw on her rosey red shoes. She looked in the mirror and twirled about. How she disliked most the wigs women wore, she liked to chose the one of her hair color; black, like her wig for tonight. Her eyes were a sheer emerald green, unlike many of the others in the castle. Only her sister's eyes could match the beauty of her's.

((I hope this okay, my mind wasn't quite working as much as it usually does.))

Cerise began to slowly take the rollers from her thick, shiny black curls. As she unrolled them, the long locks of hair fell down to frame her face and cascade down her shoulder and back. Unlike her sister Ophelia, Cerise didn't enjoy wearing those big wigs. Her natural hair was much prettier, she thought. One of the two assistants that she'd chosen to help her prepare for the ball puled the back of her corset very tightly and secured it with a small knot, tying the thick sash at the back of her dress in a massive, bright green bow. The majority of her dress was black, aside from the white underskirt and bright green trim around the collar, down her stomach, along her sleeves, and on every other layer of her skirt.

Surveying herself in a full-length mirrored piece of glass, Cerise sighed. The coming of age for a young heiress was so stressfull, and she could see how it was physically affecting her. She was slightly taller than her sister, with full, but not overbearing curves and a slender waist. Her skin was like aged ivory and her eyes a resilliant green that matched her sister's and the colour of green on her dress. Cerise sighed once more and turned, raising her head slightly and closing her eyes for her assistant to powder her face and apply her subtle cosmetics. Lip colouring wasn't necessery. Their mother, immortalized in paintings all over the palace, had bestowed upon her the generous curve of her lips, a deep ruby red to contrast her beautiful skin.

Ophelia sat in front of her mirror at her vanity and frowned, she had full lips, though not nearly as well colored and shaped as he sisters. If anything, she was jealous of this aspect. She was happy to have a bit more curves than her sister, but sometimes it was more difficult in ways. If she wasn't carefu, she found that men seemed to undress her with thier eyes.
She applied just a bit of powder, her pale skin didn't need much. She then applied a faint pinkish blush and a bit of reddened eye shadow. She added a touch of shimmer to her lips to give it a little something. Never understanding why her sister didn't like the wigs, she adjusted her wig just a bit. As she began to grow older, the wigs seemed a bit ridiculous.
She shrugged at this thought as she stood, looking herself once more over she nodded. she then felt a tugging at the back, the maid was readjusting the corset, tightening it. She never liked to have them tight, but they insisted and always did it when she was preoccupied with something else. She stold on more glance again as she grabbed her cape and headed out of the room. She hoped her sister was almost done, their ball was within an hour or so now. She always hated how long it took to get ready, even though it ws necessary.

Cerise had her corset tightened once more, just for good measure. She wasn't as curvy as her sister, so it didn't bother her quite so much to have it very tight. After all, it kept the men all over her, and that's exactly how she enjoyed it. She plucked her long, black cape with emerald green lining to match her eyes, and dress, and threw it around her shoulders, adjusting a small clasp to hold it together at her throat.

Leaving the room, Cerise headed out to the hall and greeted her sister with a soft smile. Her voice was soft and sweet, but her nervousness showed through. "I'm ready.. I think. Are you?" Her fingertips kneaded and picked at the edges of her cloak.

She tugged a bit at the side of her corset, adjusting it to a more comfortable position. She smiled seeing her sister, and also noticed the nervousness. She put a hand to he mouth and giggled, "Nervous, now are we? Why, it is a day to be celebrated. Today we are full grown women, not to mention we have not been wed off as many girls before our age do. We are lucky that father keeps us here and shall allow us free reign over whom we marry."
She plucked a fallen hair from the wig off her cape, the hair clung to the cursed velvet relentlessly. Finally she removed the pesting hair piece, "To answer your question, of course I am. Why should I not?" She spoke as she started to head down the hall, "Come sister, we must make our appearence in the ball room quite before anyone has arrived.

Cerise chuckled at Ophelia struggling to remove the hair from her cloak, quite content that all of her hair was firmly attatched to her scalp. "I'm only nervous because I have a really odd feeling about this evening. Like something insane will happen." She shivvered and looked around, her nervousness creating slight paranoia.

Following her sister down the hall, Cerise tried to push out the odd gut feeling. She'd never felt something like this, not once. Sure, she'd had that slightly premonition or foreboding, but everyone experiences that from time to time. This was very different. Putting it out of her thoughts, she concentrated on the light "clop clop' of her boots on the palace's beautiful stone floors.

In the pit of her stomach, she felt her sitster was right. A strange, tight atmosphere shifted about. Almost at each corner she jumped, only to calm herself again. It was a mouse here or a slight tap there. Her sister's nervousness began to rub off onto her. She sighed with relief as they finally reached the ball room.

Everything was elegantly decorated; everything right down to the last detail. She smiled contentedly, "Won't tonight be wonderful?" She asked as she continued down the steps that lead from their door where she previously stood. She watched as all the maids and servants scuffled about, the party would soon be underway.

Cerise stepped foreward and past her sister, twirling around and making her skirts fly as she did so, spreading out her arms as she spun. "I sure hope so!" she called back as she ran down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time as she hurried down to one of the large ornamental thrones that sat at a long table at the front of the hall. In these two immensely large and comfortable chairs, Cerise and her sister would experience the traditional heiress' coming of age ceremony, and eat their first meal as certified adult women. Aftrer that, they'd mill around, chatting up other royalty and dancing with handsome young men.

Ophelia rolled her eyes at her sister as she followed her towards the throne, but she couldn't help but smile. She knew tonight would run smoothly. She appraoched to annoyingly decorated throne and sat, perched upon a seat higher than the rest. This was a form of authority; not only so the girls would be seen and such.
The door opened as the chefs were bringing the food out. A knock was heard, the first guest was here. She turned her head to see William (this is going to be my male character if you don't mind). He was their childhood friend, they used to run around and play. Once he even snipped a piece of Ophelia's raven locks. She had been infurated and after that things went wrong, it had been a while sicne they seen him.

(I'll bring mine in too.)
Cerise smiled, mouth watering as the nearly overwhelming scent of all of the food wafted over them. Huge hogs, pit roasted, rested upon gleaming platter with apples in their mouthes. Huge stuffed geese, chickens, and any other fowl you could think of, adorned with beautiful herbs and vegetables covered the long tables, along with legs of lamb, crown roasts, and sides of beef so tender you could cut it with a spoon. Accompanying them were salad bowls of gargantuan size, and tureens of potatoes, and any other vegetable, coated in tasty sauces. She couldn't wait to sink her teeth into her meal.

Snapping out of her tasty daydream, Cerise watched William walk in. Oh, how she hated him, after snipping a bit of her hair one day when they were young. Such a little bastard, he'd been. Entering after him was a tall spanish prince with golden skin and dark, lightly oiled back hair. His name was Emiliano, Emil, they'd called him when they were younger. He was sort of a big-brother figure to Cerise, being a few years older and wiser as they were kids, advising her at times. She smiled and waved daintily to him.