( the movie was questionable but eh )

cairo sweet had a life which was lacking. in her own words, she was pushing 19 and completely unremarkable, having little to put on her application to yale as she had not really lived yet. a writer without inspiration was like a waterwheel without a current pushing the paddles-- a lamentable entity, rendered utterly useless in the grand tapestry of creation. however, to any outsider, she could be the most remarkable thing in this corner of tennessee.

an enigmatic girl who lived in an antebellum mansion surrounded by troves of books, who lived alone as her attorney parents were mysteriously absent on trips; as eerie as it was to see her emerging from the woods every morning before classes, or seeing her vanish into mr. miller's classroom after school ended, there was always an allure to the danger. an intrigue, a siren's call beckoning toward the allure of the unknown.

she was perched on the silk sheets of her bed, her notebook in hand, the only light being from the slightly ajar window and the lit candelabra, her mahogany eyes fixated on the paper. she'd been working on her latest submission for her portfolio, and she liked an audience; hence why you were there, your appearance quite out of place in the otherwise gothic mansion where she spent time inscribing the contours of her latest literary opus.

"--yet, fate had dealt her a cruel hand, burdening her wings with the weight of sorrow, straight to hell." cairo read, the midland drawl in her voice lactonic, yet monotonous. "each beat of her ebony wings echoed with a mournful lament, a symphony of melancholy that reverberated through the desolate expanse of the woods which were her sacrilege, and now her downfall."

she paused, pursing her lips slightly in thought, before look up to where you were sat, one of her eyebrows creeping higher than the other. "and?" she queried, the subtle edge in her voice underscoring her customary enigmatic aura. "don't just sit there, i need some feedback. was it too machiavellian?"