PLAYER: Tami! Master of the universe!

E-MAIL: aliaguardian [at] yahoo [dot] co [dot] uk.

AIM: Tamiest.

WEBPAGE: http://www.two-sins.net.

CHARACTER DESIRED: Sailor Saturn/Sleeping Beauty.

Name: Princess Chloris Charisse Akantha. Due to the fact that it has been fifty-four years since she was around, her full name is not actually known very well to anyone but genealogical scholars; she's known as the Hawthorne Princess, or Sleeping Princess, or by a number of superstitious names. The educated or other royalty may remember her as Princess Chloris. She prefers the petname "Chloe."

Kingdom: Sixth Kingdom.

Age: 85 (seventeen when she was cursed with sleep)

Birthdate: Oak Moon 10.

Occupation: Princess. Full-time sleeper.

Likes:

ξ order/control; deep beneath her candy-coated wide-eyed hands-clasped swooning exterior, Chloe is pretty much the biggest control freak that you will ever find. If she is not in control of her destiny, she is extremely unhappy. She would rather slit her throat than push herself out into that big ol' sea of rolling fate; this is pretty much a family trait, handed down panic-strickenly from grandmother to mother to granddaughter. Not being in control of your own fate means you are headed towards a sticky end. Chloe would rather rule in hell than serve in heaven; and she would rather be the puppet-master than the puppet. She has been 'holding court' since she was approximately fourteen years old: she doesn't feel comfortable unless she's about six steps ahead of everybody else. She tends to think that if people did this life would be a lot less messy. In Chloe's opinion, control rests on uncertainty; if people are looking to her for what is right and good in the world, she truly has the strings.

ξ etiquette; rules! Rules are control! Mess sucks! The niceties of ye olde Sixth Kingdom are long, boring, complicated, and pretty much designed to suck all fun out of life; it involves a lot of changing clothes, using the correct shrimp fork, flower language, being chaperoned, not doing anything more kinky than listening to long romantic ballads, etc, etc. The way Chloe sticks to this shit you would think it had been written in some bible somewhere. Again with the control; she would not write a book on castle ettiquette because then people might know what to do. How ill-bred.

ξ superstition; ... tying in with etiquette, and even more fun. Chloe will earnestly explain to you that if you continue eating your artichoke that way, bluebirds will fly out your nose.

ξ tea parties; mini-court. Mini-holdin'-court. Pouring the tea is akin to queendom. This is basically a little feminine version of having everybody under your thumb, finding out what you want to know, and making people feel awkward. It's also about little cucumber sandwiches.

ξ adorable little animals; and the singing to thereof; everybody loves adorable little bluebirds and singing to them, and all the birds and the bees of the forest who come into your grove listening to your delicate song of beauty and delight! Chloris' voice is the type of sweet, frothy, warbling soprano that is excellent for singing about dudes you met once upon a dream and had a nice ol' dance with.

ξ swooning; not only is it a fabulous and passive-aggressive way of expressing surprise and disapproval, but it gives Chloe time to get out of the early decision-making process about things and more time to think. Excellent. It is emotional manipulation of the worst kind.

ξ romance; actually, Chloe could not give two humps about romance since deep in her heart everything marriage-wise should be orchestrated mess-free, but it is within her best interests to coo a lot and leave two inches of syrup everywhere as she swoons. Not liking romance would contrast oddly with her Love Of The Pink And Cute And Feminine. But she will swoon over romance, say, a nice way, about nothing from the neck down. Because. Totally improper. She likes to pretend that she is convinced that all children are brought by the stork.

ξ needles and sharp objects; due to a ban on these kinds of things when she was growing up, Chloe is very often fascinated by these things, watching people do needlework with pretty much an unhealthy lust and a gleam in her eye. She both fears these things superstitiously and is drawn to them.

ξ pretty flowers and meadow vistas and cakes and niceness; ... okay, so it's her crust, but that crust goes down fairly deeply. She likes niceness. And pretty flowers. And meadow vistas.

ξ those goddamn little dogs about two inches big who are really fucking yappy; this explains itself. Just count everybody lucky that they are still asleep. Chloe likes dogs because they are incredibly biddable. Cats are cute, but they are beautiful and evil and malevolent, and Chloe had hoped to cover that market already.

Dislikes:

ξ being beholden to anybody else; again, a family trait. Because. When you get beholden to somebody? Next thing you know, you're up a tower, and your only company is this rude old witch leaving you sexually frustrated enough to drop your hair for any dude who passes by on a horse. And then things just go south from there. If Chloe finds that she is put into a tight spot by another person, she will do pretty much anything to get out of it. The only thing that other people should basically be doing for you is: big burly bodyguards are okay. You need somebody to swoon onto.

ξ lettuce; family trait. Lettuce. No lettuce. Lettuce, you are not invited to Chloe's pizza party.

ξ sleeping; once she wakes up from her incredible power nap, Chloe is not exactly going to enjoy doing this any more; there will be the lingering fear that the next time she wakes up it will be two hundred and fifty years later and Warren's descendants will be doing rap music on T.V, or something. She will have delicate little cat naps and not much more.

ξ trusting people; in this life, as Chloe understands it, basically everybody is willing to sell you out rather than even look at you. Everybody has a price. You should always have a back-up plan. Never depend on anyone else.

ξ boys; this is not so much dislike as a huge, deep-down wariness, a nervousness that boys will eventually stomp all over you. Because they're meant to stomp all over you. This is what men do. Dudes are there to lock you in towers: they are also there to save you from aforementioned towers, and then you're beholden to them, and you end up marrying them and boy is it all over. Guys are, however, there for protection, doing dirty work, so she flings herself helplessly on the protection of men. You can always get rid of them when nobody is looking, after all. Right? Right? (It is a sad thing when you have spent your whole life running from phallic imagery.)

She is not so much looking for a white knight on a white horse so much as a white knight on a white horse who sleeps deeply and doesn't see the pillow coming over his face.

ξ non-humans; wolves are nasty! Go sleep in the stable!

ξ improper behaviour; another form of control, with the added bonus of making people feel morally bankrupt. At least. It did back then. These days people are just running around and nobody's calling Quinn a scarlet woman and people's skirts are above their ankles and it is just enough to make her swoon around ten times per hour. It is always an excellent idea also to be a startled virgin. Nobody ever pins anything on the startled virgin. Of course, the fact that things have rather loosened up from her time will shock, annoy, infuriate and generally interest her.

ξ high places; creep her jeepers.

Hobbies:

ξ politics; beneath the cotton-candy stiff-buttoned primness, there is a mind like a razorblade. You have to get fairly far down to find it, because at first glance her mind is not so much a razorblade as a very blunt spoon. She is an excellent mistress of delegation; she holds too many strings to micromanage everything. However, she is nothing loath to cut people off the moment the way they manage things displeases her. Micromanaging would also tip off people to the fact that she is managing, which isn't at all ladylike; she is the queen of showing indirect control and humiliation.

ξ throwing aforementioned tea parties; her cucumber sandwiches are the thinnest in the land.

ξ delicate handwork; having been brought up needle-free, Chloe is pretty kickin' at weaving baskets. This is a nice thing to do. It is Ladylike.

Aspirations: Well, right now, it's kind of a matter of getting an alarm clock. But when Chloe wakes up, she will be fairly desperate to get the Sixth Kingdom back on the map; finding more lebenstraum trade agreements, making herself THE QUEEEEEEEN, wearing swishy dresses, etc, etc, being adorable, invading the Rhine. But that's only when she's ready - bitches can stay asleep until then. <3 Then the world will be ruled by adorable little yappy dogs, perfect taste, fluffy dresses and little paper-thin cucumber sandwiches.

It really starts with her grandmother; whose horror stories her twin daughters and she herself told Chloe over and over again as a child in hushed whispers, who was sold by her own parents for freakin' lettuce and locked in a tower for years and years with no hair care and the only guy who came along to save her ended up being pushed into a bush of thorns and blinded while she slaved away and toiled with The Proof That Premarital Sex Gets You Nowhere Good: twin baby girls, Oriana and Clarissa, before after ages of actual independence were found by Blind Guy again and taken back to the castle, which is a good thing, but the entire experience: not cool!

It is no wonder that Chloe had issues.

Chloris was the first-born baby girl to Oriana, the eldest twin, who married a prince who became the King and they all lived happily ever after. When Chloe was born, there was general rejoicing; the King sent for his three fairy godmothers to bestow wishes and good luck upon ickle Chloris, the general wealth-health-beauty deal, only he left out the fourth. He intended to leave out the fourth out of kindness; these four fairies were actually fairly hot, and in his youth he had carried out half a tumultuous affair with the fourth but left her due to being betrothed to Oriana. It seemed fairly amiable, only it was hugely awkward when the fourth fairy turned up at the christening, determined to give her own gift as well as the others did.

And her gift bestowed upon the baby was not exactly listed on the registry: she deemed that Chloe would want for thorns in her life like bees wanted honey, and never get the desire of needles out of her. Flowers she would have none; spikes only. And eventually, through this lust, she would prick her finger on a spindle and die.

This started the catalyst of a number of things; for one thing, the King stood and slew the fairy where she stood, which never helps. The remaining fairies attempted to undo the curse that the last fairy had put on Chloris, but it was too powerful; all they could do was put an equally powerful sleep spell on Chloe, the end line of which would probably send everybody within a huge radius off to La La Land as well. The curse could be broken, but by what they could not exactly say. Oriana and her twin Clarissa both bawled day and night over the child; they demanded that all needles be summarily banned and spindles burnt. The marriage started to break up between Oriana and her husband, who thought it all foolish and rank stupidity on their parts, and refused to do anything about it. Despite pleading and begging for the King to take stricter measures and burn all spindles, he still never relented, citing economic reasons and the idiocy of it all; desperate with worry for tiny Chloris, the twins rather coldheartedly smothered the King and set it up to look as though he had died of natural causes. Once in power, they started getting rid of all the spinning wheels, spindles, etc in the kingdom.

They managed to burn most of the wheels, and confine needle-use to the outer island of the Sixth Kingdom, where Chloris was forbidden to go: by the time she had reached seven she had never laid eyes on a needle, nor a spindle and thread. She was a fairly spoiled child, but sunny and good-natured, and sweet as a fluffy little kitten; she was very biddable to her mother and her aunt, but knew exactly how to get what she wanted and when. When she made it into puberty, she found that her two women figures were fairly weak rulers; she started to enchant the court with her beauty, grace, and adorable little animal friends, becoming something of a near-saintly figure as Chaste as Snow and Twice as Cute. She started holding tea-parties with handmaidens, and soon was actually keeping court as her shy mother moved into the background; a great marriage was planned for her, and though some people got more and more nervous as time went by, others relaxed. Chloe had not shown herself to have some mad sex fetish for spikes; she did not lust after needles; she did not fling herself down on thistles. She did, however, love roses, and could often be seen wandering the gardens (with proper escort, appropriate attire, and fabulous hair) picking flowers and singing to herself.

It was among her handmaidens, who had also grown up in this world, that a rumour started: there was something called a spindle and thead in the castle, something of great danger and horror, and somebody had smuggled it in. Chloris assured them all that something so nasty probably did not exist and anyway not to think about it: but in her own head, she got more and more curious, and also more determined to have it. In her mind, holding an object of such great power and revulsion would give her a one-up on everyone else, especially if she possessed the only one around her, and she had to find out what it was anyway. She sent her quiet lackeys throughout the castle to discover the whereabouts of this thing: and when she did, went herself to go and find what it was. It turned out to be a ragged old woman in a chair, spinning, something which Chloris had never seen before.

"What are you doing?" she asked, "and who are you, please, old mother?"

"I am the mother your grandmother abandoned," said the old woman. "I am spinning thread on this thing, and this is the end of you."

"O my," said Chloris, (noting down how hard she could scream if she needed to). "I would dearly like that trifle, old mother. Do please give it to me."

"Gladly," said Rapunzel's witch, whose name was Dame Gothel. "Take it, you little fool, for it is your birthright. It is made from the bones of the dead fairy your father spurned, and may it do you as much good as it did her!"

And without looking before she leapt, mesmerised by the sharp point of the needle, she grasped it, pricked her finger, and fainted dead away into sleep. When her mother heard the news, she and her sister both took poison, weeping bitterly; Chloris herself was arrayed on her bed in all her finery, strewn with roses, and the spindle at her feet. The entire Sixth Kingdom fell into a deep, deep sleep that night, and thorny briars sprang up so that the beachhead island of the kingdom was entirely impossible to get into, and the outer mainland impossible to live on; anyone who wandered into the dark, thorn-choked mess generally never came out, as the briars were magical as well as totally impervious to Round-Up or axes. And there Chloris slept.

At first glance - and this is the way Chloe lives her life and she is happy to do so; she does not disdain living her life this way, or even really feel contempt for it - Chloe is an outdated piece of candy on a stick; a fairytale princess who is not just sweet but about as innocent as virgin snow. Obnoxiously innocent: she is prim and proper as hell, prone to faint at improper behaviour or coarse language or rudeness or random wind changes, a delicate butterfly who has been shielded from nasty things all her life. She loves boundlessly, is as trusting as a little lamb, and loves things that are sweet and frilly and feminine - clothes and hairstyles and marriages, and tea-parties. She is a gushing little princess of the Old School: she is considerably archaic in comparison to most of the other girls, from an age where she was held totally in thrall to marriage and ye olde court mores. She seems about as educated as a rock: caring, uptight, fairly dumb, easily shocked, about as drearily traditional as you get. Her only really out-of-the-box trait seems her interest in seeing everything and learning new things, a sort of kitten's curiosity, a desire for freedom and wide-open spaces.

However, underneath this all is a woman who has been taught her entire life to be canny, lest she fall into somebody's grip: a husband with a secret, parents with a craving, anything, anything. Never mind that she swoons to see a woman in trousers; beneath her adorable little flush of maidenly feeling she has an iron grip and is determined to not let go. Chloris cannot live as anything but free, and sees the entire world as trying to prevent that; she has control issues up the wazoo and has a paranoid mind, which is pretty much only made worse by discovering that due to her family's incompetence and general bad luck she slept for over fifty damned years.

She is an odd mix of belief and cynicism; she is fairly sincere about her faith in some of life's silly little things - superstitions and etiquette, especially since both of those things fall in line with her ways of thinking and controlling, and she also does really want to believe in fluff and trees and butterflies and love - she is one of those people who really was born fairly fluffy and prissy, only she tends to Ham It Up For The Audience. Somewhere she wants to believe that there are sunsets and flowers pick themselves, but it is Not For Chloe.

She seems fairly arrogant in that she is eager for people to abide by her rules - down to threatening them with her own fainting when they do not do things the Right Way, a very feminine and girlish kind of shock. She also seems very easily weak and overwrought; she has a surprisingly good constitution for somebody who apparently faints every ten minutes of every day. This is because Chloe likes to take herself out of the early decision-making process so that she has more time to think - while other people are taking action, she has more avenues which she can use to Get Out Of Jail.

Mainly Chloe's strength lies in her iron-hard control; she rarely slips, rarely lets other people know what she is thinking. She does, however, tend to at the very least overestimate everybody around her and lay on them paranoid thoughts of THEY'RE OUT TO GET ME; it is fairly subtly that she does not put herself honestly in anybody else's power, but it is definitely there for the keen viewer. What helps is that she does love butterflies and clouds and small animals and hairstyles, but she does not believe in them, if that makes any sense. She is nearly entirely faithless. The way she behaves is not so much an act as merely done without any real conviction on her part: kind of like watching a parade and admiring it, but knowing full well that Santa isn't real. Which. Is just mangling metaphors. But.

When Chloe does slip, she slips magnificently. She turns into a screaming, actual woman: fairly violent and snappish and probably cursing, using everything taboo in the World of Chloe. She develops severe personality twitches; she sort of hiccups herself into a full-blown tantrum, unable to keep down Cute Chloe. Eventually she has a total fit. Over everything. GET THESE CAKES OUT OR I AM GOING TO MASH THEM INTO YOUR EYES AND STICK A FORK IN YOUR LUNGS I GODDAMN HATE YOU AND THESE CAKES!!!! AND THESE CURTAINS! I HATE THESE STUPID CURTAINS!!! AND I'M GOING TO KICK THIS FUCKING LITTLE YAPPY DOG!!! etc.

She is also a woman who rarely gets angry; mainly she blames herself for failures, as it's not as though she expects anything from anyone else. She can be superficially irritated and prissy, sure, but in the same aggressive way as a baby deer rolling around on a patch of grass. Nothing about Chloe is in any way aggressive: probably the one thing she has been able to perfect acting-wise is a huge, wide-eyed look of ingenuous and trusting vapidity. She did this one in the mirror for ages. And the thing is, she's having fun - if there is one thing she enjoys in this life, it is irony. It is her only consolace. And, well, frou-frou and lace and sparkles helps too. She has always had the taste for the cute and the frilly and the feminine; it relaxes her, the Ultimate Feminine Mystery of Lace Doilies and Cupcakes. It distracts from the horrors that the world wreaks upon every day. If she doesn't want to look at dreadful things, she's not going to look at dreadful things. Chloe does not like dreadful things. She is a leader who has no stomach for killing people unless it's done in the next room and she doesn't have to see it or hear it. This will probably become a problem when she comes into her powers as a senshi and has to see violence happening. She CANNOT ABIDE VIOLENCE. (swoon)

It also shows a bit of a disturbing childhood worship complex: Chloe would like to be a child forever. Children are pretty and like puppies. Old people do not like puppies and are hags. As the years go by, Chloe will be one of those women desperate to keep her youth; getting pinker and sparklier and more-make-up-ier as she goes not gently unto middle age.

Also, cute is annoying, and that's another aspect of control.

Chloris lives in a fairly ugly hell of her own making - it is not just lonely at the top, but it is nearly unbearable. She has never had a friend, has never trusted anybody else with anything, and desperately wishes sometimes that her sunny little fluffyhead life was real and that she didn't have to keep on waiting for the entire world to stand over her with a pillow. She is incredibly clingy over other people, and tends to keep them around her much longer than they obviously desire; going with them when she's not invited, and not going alone on pain of death. If she has to go and powder her nose, THE OTHER PRINCESSES HAVE TO GO TOO. Just like her grandmother, she's locked in that tower, but she can't even see that she's in a goddamn tower. She lives her life with two sides, burning her candle at both ends, and cannot marry one to the other.

Strengths: resilient, intelligent, cunning, buoyant, fairly adorable, sweet, excellent organiser, curious, ingenuous
Flaws: paranoid, prissy as hell, two-faced, ignorant, over fifty years out of date, saccharine, vacant

Old-fashioned fairy-tale princess. The fashion of the Sixth Kingdom was somewhere between Georgian and Regency, with a great deal of Waterhouse hair in the middle; and as for Chloe herself, she is radiantly beautiful. Well. Radiantly beautiful after three hours dressing every morning, the exact right kind of clothes and appropriate shoes.

Slight of build, long-legged with a fairly short torso and graceful arms, her skin is the colour of milky coffee; oval-shaped face and delicate, porcelain features, straight nose and faintly flared nostrils that make her look like a satisfied kitten. Thickly-lashed, heavy-lidded eyes, big grey-green affairs, fairly startling against her darker skin. Finely arched brows, natural bright colour in her cheeks, perfect cupid's bow mouth; classical features, the essence of classical features, except for the slightly exotic nose. She has all the muscle tone of a clam; in fact, she looks pretty much as if she might break in two pieces if you touch her, with the teeniest tiniest waist you ever did see (and a severe dearth of curve, but try not to notice that). She also looks as if she should be drowning under the weight of her dark chestnut hair, which is heavy and ass-length and generally done up in intricate knots at the back of her head, arrayed with jewels; she also likes ribands, bandeaux and snoods, and circlets are totally in. The hair is stick-straight and fairly thick, and the moment curls look at it they fall out, which grieves her intensely: no amount of hot pokers will get her hair to curl. It also takes about an hour to wash and two hours to dry, and half an hour to do up to her perfection, and since Chloe is the type of girl who puts on makeup to answer the door for the postman she will refuse to go anywhere with her hair not to her liking. (Given her druthers she would refuse to go anywhere with your hair, too, but some people never learn.) Chloe will, inevitably, try out all curling potions available and end up with a huge afro. This will be hilarious, only she will cry like a neurotic housewife for a year.

She is also all of 5'2", so generally wafts around like some kind of obnoxious blooming midget flower. This is due to the fact that she likes long dresses. Long dresses. You do not show your ankles, and show your shoulders only under EXTREME PROVOCATION or to somebody you are married to. Also, women who wear trousers are trampy whores. :D

Guardian Name: Sailor Saturn.

No personality changes when in sailor form; fighting style is generally keeping into the back and swooning mildly, attacking magically from afar, and generally whining piteously when actual violence happens. Multi-level swooning. However, if she is in a tight spot, she may actually move to quickly and panic-strickenly garotte the souce of their misery; this will probably be the only time you will see Chloe in real, sincere tears. She moves quickly. She is about as strong as a piece of paper, but she moves quickly.

Moon Princess: Will owe allegiance to after being desperately relieved to find out that she herself is, in fact, Alpha and Omega, and therefore is untouchable for life.

Elements: Sleep, silence, spinning.
Locked Power: Death/rebirth.

Fairy Tale: Sleeping Beauty.

Metamorph Ring: A silver ring with an amethyst gem. Her symbol resembles an exaggeratedly curved H with the heft crossed at the top.

Raiment: using Sushi's example here.

Relic: Spindle and Thread.

Saturn's relic is a classic drop spindle; a wide, carved base at the very sharpest end, blunt at the other and wound thickly around with the palest thread. The base is made of slightly yellowed bone, and the carvings are celtic-style interweavings; Saturn has mild telekinetic power over the thread, which will leap and unroll from the spindle into her hand. The sharp end of the spindle is too shallow to be used as an actual weapon (unless all the thread was unrolled and it was used as a stake), but the thread is unsnappable by non-magical means and combined with the telekinesis can easily be used as a garotte.

Powers:

ξ Once Upon A Dream - This power is called upon when Saturn whispers, "Sweet dreams!" and blows a cloud of sparkling dust from her palm at the enemy. If it hits (and it can be blown away or avoided if the victim is quick enough), the enemy starts to feel incredibly drowsy; their movements become obviously sluggish, and in fifteen seconds they will be deeply asleep. The problem with this attack is that if anyone attempts to touch them and rouse them from their sleep, it will have the same effect on them; touch transfers the magic like an infection. If you leave them alone (or throw a bucket of water or rocks etc) for around thirty seconds, they can generally wake up and struggle to their feet again. The insidiousness is in the touch chain-sleep effect. There are no harmful effects except that you just, you know, fell asleep.

ξ Descending Stillness - This one needs to be done directly, with an element of touch (Chloe: Eek! >:| ); Saturn needs to get a direct palm-touch on the subject's chest, with the command, "Stop!". The subject is immediately unable to speak and unable to perform magical attacks, unless attacked or if Chloe accidentally says the subject's name. It wears off by itself after around two minutes.

ξ Silence Bubble: Chloe can produce a bubble spanning about 2x2 meters so that nobody can hear what is going on within the bubble; useful if you're at a party and don't want people to know that you're discussing people's dresses. This can only be held for about a minute, though if it takes place in a rose gazebo (roses being the traditional flower of silence) she can extend it to five. This is mainly just for political intrigue.

ξ Trap of Thread: Using her Relic, Chloe is granted the ability to set up absolutely appalling ninja thread traps in given areas - it takes her about six minutes to set up, but the Guardians can pretty much capture or even throttle anyone who stumbles into one of these things. It takes her longer depending on how big they want the trap. (A simple trip trap would only take thirty seconds to set up.) The thread stretches itself out into something like fine, invisible wire, undetectable except by somebody who was especially trained. These traps are fucking ninja. At least they'll never go hungry.

ξ Needle Creation: Given small scraps of metal, matches or bits of wood, and given about half an hour to worry them over with her fingers, Chloe can produce a needle. She can also sharpen any needles given to her simply by touching them. This is probably one of the most useless powers in eternity unless there is a sewing shortage. Once the thing leaves Chloe's hand, after another half hour it will return to its original form.