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Posted on June 23, 2010 at 08:04:44 PM by Scarlett Lheureux
Proverbs 23:20-21 "Be not among winebibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh: For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty: and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags."
GLUTTONY
• Praepropere - eating too soon.
• Laute - eating too expensively
• Nimis - eating too much.
• Ardenter - eating too eagerly
• Studiose - eating too daintily
• Forente - eating wildly
Scarlett Lheureux
Female
Power: Ability to sense gluttony. Ash touch.
Weakness: is never satisfied – her body doesn’t absorb nutrients properly so even if she eats continually, she’ll always be hungry. Secondarily, she’s obsessed with filling herself with drugs.
Appearance: heaped and messy pinkish, in a faded ginger way, hair, hooded violet eyes. A large face with yellowish pale skin draped loosely over it, her cheekbones jutting out like cliff edges. Large chin. Emaciated figure, hardly womanly, more like a starved child’s. Very tall, with long limbs which are not so much thin as bones wrapped in skin with a few veins gnarled around them. Her body gives the impression of having once been extremely large, and her eyes gleam with insatiable hunger for everything.
Personality: The best way to describe Lheureux is through the things which she cannot understand: abstinence, chastity, modesty, humility, prudence, self-regulation, and forgiveness or mercy. Once you have stripped your average self-obsessed, desperate woman of these, you’re getting close to understanding her. The opposite of gluttony is temperance, one of the four cardinal virtues, and accordingly, her hunger is not limited to food. She wants others to surrender their entire selves to her, and this terrible thirst for the souls of others mixed with her inherent alcoholism makes her a pretty crappy piece of work.
Played by: Starshine
SAMPLE POST
Lheureux stumbled down the speckled muck of the metro’s stairway, her thin feet moving quickly but awkwardly along the hallway, the sound of her movement less of the echo of footfalls, more of a rustle. One of her hands trailed thick, cracked nails along one of the stained walls, a thin layer of grey tracking its progress. The other was holding a large bottle, the grass a grey-green colour, with a dark, thick liquid in it, the skeletal hand wrapped like a claw around it. She stopped with the end of the corridor, took a swig from the bottle, swaying slightly, and then closed her eyes. What was going on in her empty little head?
She staggered forwards, on to the platform, grey and flat before her before the chasm of tracks and the answering reflected platform, almost the same bar its emptiness. She stroked her thin waist with her palm, knocking the bottle gently against her forehead, her eyes blank, staring at the train tracks in front of her, and then she blinked and looked sideways. How could she have heard such a quiet noise? Hardly even breathing, an old, frail looking man in an oversized coat shivered slightly against the pale concrete. Lheureux’s dark lips puckered slightly and she made an unsteady line towards the sleeping form.
She bent over him, one hand hesitating above his face, flexing, and then she withdrew it, and straddled his form, bending close to him, her nose sniffing, flared. Her thin body arched animalistically, like a hyena examining a carcass. The man shifted slightly, revealing a pale green shirt, the material faded and soft. Lheureux’s feverish breath reached his old, pinkish ears, coiled like shellfish on the sides of his aged, weather-beaten head. One of his eyes half opened, showing an egg-shell blue eye, which focused on Lheureux’s thin features, closed, and then both of his eyes opened, both showing watery and blue pupils, the corners of them red, wrinkles appearing on his face as though time had just remembered him.
Lheureux bared her rotted teeth at him, and he stared at her.
Her frail, yellowish fingers started to descend towards his clothes, and he stared at them.
In her eyes, she could see her sins in him, and she loved him for it.
In his eyes, he could see that the youngest and most female person he’d been close to in the last fifty years was lowering her hand towards him.
He remembered the last woman who’d been this close to him, and the utter consumption of their shared lust, the way her body had been almost devoured by his.
One of her narrow little fingers touched his coat.
The man’s clothes melted in to ash, ripples of it spreading from where her finger had touched. He started, the first inkling of reality brushing his consciousness. All that was left was his body, covered in ash, revealing in one hand, a bottle of whisky. Lheureux’s upper lip curved in a dangerously gentle line.
Her voice heaved its way from the gutters of her lungs, gurgling darkly.
You’re mine, darling.
She bent and kissed him with, his wrinkled lips almost submerged in her mouth, but just before her open mouth had reached his, he had glimpsed the darkness of that hole in her, and his body, as it disintegrated into ash, was trapped in the sudden struggle of one returning from hypnosis.
Both hands clutching bottles, she straightened up from the small heap of ash, as a train pulled into the station, the breeze of its entrance blowing away the remains of somebody’s grandpa. A young man sat looking out of the window, and, rearranging what stood in her regard as clothing, Leureux tottered into the carriage, her eyes fixed hungrily on him.
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"Proverbs 23:2 "And put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite."
Replies:
- accepted - By Georgia June 30, 2010 at 10:06:52 PM
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