STERLING, DUCLINEA SILVIA Jul 10, 2015 6:06:57 GMT -5
Post by DULCY on Jul 10, 2015 6:06:57 GMT -5
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DULCINEA SILVIA STERLING
Dulcinea is a high spirited girl with a playful nature and fiery temper that doesn’t like to be told no. Born and raised in San Francisco she has few survival skills for the wilds of the Menagerie, and will have to learn fast. A sensual, sultry vixen she loves to laugh, flirt, and devour attention. Although she certainly has a princess complex, she has derived the dexterity not to ask for things she can’t have. She is witty, sweet, amiable, and loves to please and be pleased. Not one to throw a pity party, she might complain easily enough about the weather or a chore, but when it comes to things close to the heart she is Fort Knox.
The idea of weapons appalls her, at least in the sense of her own use of them, and she has no desire even touch them. Those that carry them are altogether another story, and it is not uncommon for her to make friends or trade with those more combatively capable than herself for that very reason.
She has no discrimination of sex, race, age, or personality and is certainly not the monogamous type. Because of the years growing up in a vast metropolis, she doesn’t do well sleeping alone or dealing with the utter and complete darkness of the night here. Alone, in the dark, and in the silence will make her a neurotic mess and prone to an anxiety attacks - thus she cannot sleep unless at least two of these are remedied. As a result she has a fond love of fire and when alone, sleeps during the day and remains awake during the long night.
She screamed so loud it hurt her own ears. The pressure in her head from the noxious sound caused the child’s face to turn almost purple. Hot tears streaked down her vermilion face as her small desperate hands clasped and pulled at her mother’s skirts, begging and demanding.
“Please Mommy you can’t go. No! You said you would play with me tonight. Mommy! Mommy!” the shrieking subsided into sobs as a servant was ordered to take Dulcinea to her rooms for the night. Her fingers clutched the doorframe on the way out for a last look at her mother prepping in the mirror - getting ready for the night. Her red lips sipping at the wine glass in her hand before setting it down and turning to her husband with a pose and a smile. The little girl let go and was whisked away to her bed.
“Shhh Miss Dulcy, she’ll be back,” cooed the reliable servant Gretta that often doubled as a nanny. It had taken a while to quiet the girl, and Gretta had taken the time to comfort her. There was so much pain in the child, left for days on end in an empty house. No friends. No parents. She felt sorry for her.
“I hate them,” Dulcinea promised passionately, her mouth muffled by the bedding. She thought she meant it at the time.
“I know Miss Dulcy, but your parents have things to do. They don’t have time to play with you right now,” it was terrible to lie to a child. The truth was they didn’t care. Mrs. Sterling was a socialite that was away at parties every evening, and when Mr. Sterling wasn’t campaigning he accompanied his wife. They were the starlit couple that had a child, and continued on with their own lives as if Dulcinea never existed.
They gave her anything she wanted. Anything, but they’re time and affection. Gretta shook her head and sighed sadly. A child that went unloved and neglected, especially a girl like Dulcinea, made for a toxic mix of anger and selfishness. It was not Dulcinea’s fault, truly it was not. Without understanding, the Sterlings were making their daughter into a monster … and they simply did not care.
As Dulcinea grew older the only time her parents paid her any mind was when she got into trouble, and consequently the older she became the more mayhem and havoc she reaped. It wasn’t a conscious thing for the red haired girl. Dulcinea was chaotic, self-centered, entitled, and angry. She cut classes, stayed out all night, got tattoo after tattoo, and took any street drugs she could get her hands on. There was a starvation in the maturing girl, a jagged hole that no matter what she tried to fill it with was never sated, and the sharp edges cut her deeper with each attempt.
“I don’t know why you bring those hooligans home Miss Dulcy, they don’t care about you,” urged Gretta. Again, the teen had ‘snuck’ in a boy for a few hours, and snuck was a strong word. Her parents weren’t home, and it had been suspiciously quiet upstairs for too long.
Dulcinea half-lounged on the kitchen counter in a too large t-shirt and little else - spooning cookie dough from the bowl as Gretta was mixing. “What?” she mumbled and grinned impishly, pushing her long hair behind an ear. “We were studying,” she claimed as if Gretta would believe her and licked a finger.
“Mmhm, Miss Dulcy I know you get away with those shenanigans with the Mrs, but not me,” she warned and paused a moment in her baking to look at the girl - intending to scold her. Instead, what she saw in Dulcinea’s eyes made her smile kindly. “You can be so sweet; I don’t know why you can’t be a least a little better behaved.” Dulcinea said nothing, but made a face as she took another glob of dough and smiled.
“You keep pushing it and they’ll put you on lockdown.” Gretta was always right. It was her best and most annoying trait.
He stood there, quiet and imposing. Dulcinea skipped downstairs and almost run into him at the front door as she was leaving for school. Jumping back, her lashes flashed rapidly to gain focus.
“Who the hell are you?” she asked a hand on her hip as she looked him up and down. He was tall, solemn, and very attractive. A brow rose over her unique, mismatched blue and green eyes that glimmered mischievously. “You’re pretty cute. You here to see my Dad? Hey Dad!” she hollered as she turned and almost slammed into her father.
“Whoa,” she threw on the breaks and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Hey Dad, soldier boy is here to see ya, I gotta go to school, bye!”
“Dulcinea?” His voice rumbled in that tone and she winced inwardly and spun back around slowly.
“Yeeeah Dad?” she asked with trepidation, batting her lashes and flipping her fiery hair over one shoulder.
“This is Sirius. He is to look after you from now on and make sure you keep out of trouble. He will make sure you stay in school, and that you come home at a reasonable hour at night,” he said almost visibly bracing for an argument. Usually, it was her mother giving the orders and her father caving. This was a new game they’d concocted.
“Are you kidding me? What the f*** Dad is he my parole officer? I don’t need this asshole, and what do you mean a reasonable hour?! What, before you two drunks get back? Hell no!”
There really was no arguing. The following month was hell for her, a dance between trying to ditch Sirius (or as she relished in mocking him ‘Why so Sirius’ when she was mad) and doing what she wanted despite his presence. After she learned the boundaries of what exactly it was that she could and couldn’t get away with things got a little better. As long as she was in school, he left her alone. As long as she got home at practical hours he didn’t really care what she did. He never let guys in the house, but that didn’t stop her from hauling them into the bathrooms between classes or in the clubs. After a while it didn’t seem so bad. No one ever stuck with her but Gretta and even the old servant would sometimes get fed up with the girl.
Still, it wasn’t until a few months after his hire that something seemed to change. Arbitrarily and without warning, Sirius would alter Dulcinea’s plans and take her somewhere random; A Diner on a walk around the city, or through the park. Initially, Dulcinea threw the most epic of tantrums when forced to go (especially if he kept her from her friends or a great night at the club). Once she’d gotten dressed up simply to be taken to the same Diner that he’d taken her to a few days before.
It wasn’t until she realized these outings weren’t orchestrated by her parents that she began to actually look at Sirius in a new light. During these trips, he talked to her about history, literature and art, asked her about her day. No one ever took her anywhere or spent time with her like that.
There were small changes in Dulcinea then that grew slowly like a winter flower. It was as if, because she had someone to blame her mandatory good behavior on she was free to become … someone else, someone other than the crazy, selfish, notorious Miss Sterling. Sirius was different. He said little to nothing to her in that first year, but he never judged her either.
Sirius simply would not accept that she was unable to do her best in classes or that she would prefer drugs to her schooling. Hell, she actually started reading for fun that first summer. In return, she shoved her favorite Anime shows and music on him. Eventually, she turned her education around and by her senior year she had good enough grades apply to colleges. In a large way, Sirius had become her whole world.
Wrong place. Wrong place, wrong time.
The day had been almost arid, the dry weather seeming to charge the city and its people into a foreboding pressure. Dulcinea had only a couple classes in the morning, so instead of heading home she decided to hang out at the Diner to study.
It was their place now, Sirius’s and hers. During the past few years if she was angry or having a hard time, Sirius would take her there to drink way too much coffee and stare at the people walking by. Eventually, she came here on her own … usually accompanied by Sirius.
Dulcinea couldn’t remember what she wore. She couldn’t remember what classes she’d had that semester, but she remembered the shout in the street, and people running past the windows. Sirius noticed it first, but when Dulcinea saw the commotion and moved to get up Sirius, already on his feet, held out a staying hand.
“Sirius?” she asked, a little scared and gasped as something hit the window hard, causing the glass to crack. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her out of her seat and away from the window protectively.
“Stay here. I’m going to see what’s going on,” he growled as he disappeared out the front door and dashed into the street.
Another holler and the crash of a car made her jump. Slowly, she stepped up to the window to peer outside. She could see people fighting, amongst them Police Officers with guns made arrests, handcuffing some, or simply beating others into submission. It was an all-out riot … suddenly she noticed, some of the people began changing into animals. They were shifters. Her hand went to the glass as she saw Sirius knock a Policeman off a dog. Immediately two cops grabbed his arms from behind, but she could see him yell at the shifter to run.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the rage and hate on the faces of the Policemen, and without thinking Dulcinea was out the door and running across the street as they began laying into him savagely. Simply crossing the street was chaos - shifters, cops, cars, people screaming, fighting … down the street there was an explosion that knocked everyone to their knees. San Francisco had been flung into anarchy. Struggling to her feet she sprinted the remaining distance and knocked into one of the Police Officers as she yelled.
“No! He’s with me! Stop it! STOP IT!” without care, she was bumped to the ground out of the way. They were still laying into Sirius, using boot, fist, and weapon. “No!” She cried furiously, and scrambled again to her feet. Using her weight she whirled and jabbed her elbow into one man’s back, then stealing his metal baton, hit another in the neck with a scream. “You assholes! GET OFF OF HIM! SIRIUS!”
Strong arms seized her from behind, lifting her from the ground. Her feet came up to kick violently as she flailed madly to be free. Sirius was yelling, she couldn’t understand him but she saw it … saw the intent of a man who raised a bat over Sirius’s head. Her teeth sank into the arm that held her, and with his yell of pain she was released in time to fall defensively over Sirius.
She couldn’t move. Everything seemed too slow and too fast all at once. There was a high pitched ringing in her ears as her eyes began to close without permission. On the ground, her head lolled to the side as warm scarlet trickled down the side of her face. She could see Sirius there, see his face, his precious worried face … his eyes, his eyes were like an ocean. She was engulfed by the tides of greens and blues, and everything disappeared.
The San Francisco Riots changed everything. Many were killed and those shifters that were caught were thrown into the Menagerie. It had been on the news and would be in history classes forever more, but Dulcinea had not cared at first. She’d never met a shifter that she knew of.
When she awoke in a hospital bed, her world had been plunged into darkness. The doctors spoke to her and her parents using a horde of fancy words that she little cared for. The blow to her head had caused bleeding in her brain and a fractured skull. She spent weeks in the hospital recovering, and almost everyone she knew came to visit. All accept one.
“Where is Sirius?”
“Oh sweetie, he’s not here anymore,” her mother answered gently. “They-“
“Is he dead,” her voice was flat as she stared, it seemed, into the void.
“Oh no sweetie, he’s …”
“Then where is he?” Her head snapped in the direction of her mother’s voice. “Is he okay?” The look on Dulcinea’s face was unfathomable, a paradox of stoicism and icy fury. Her mother stepped back, unsure what to say and turned into her husband’s arms for comfort. She then heard her father’s voice.
“Honey, they took him-“
“They who,” she curbed without hesitation.
“It’s, it’s complicated honey,” he tried again.
“When will he be back,” Dulcinea asked. Her voice was flat, devoid of inflection or emotion, and for the first time her parents were truly worried about their daughter.
“Sweetie,” her mother sniffed and leaned down to push Dulcinea’s red hair away from her face affectionately. “He beat up those cops pretty badly, he may have killed one of them. He’s … not coming back.”
Slap. Dulcinea’s hand came up to knock her mother’s fingers from her face and she turned away. Nothing after that could lure Dulcinea from her depression. She ate little, talked less, and flatly refused to see anyone.
Beneath the unbreakable surface, Dulcinea’s mind roiled. Every second she had was spent on listening to the news. What had happed to the shifters in the riot, where they were taken, what the new rules were. When she was finally released she did not leave her bedroom. Even Gretta could not get the girl to open up in emotion or mind. She had utterly closed herself off to everyone.
It happened one morning.
The house was quiet, most of the servants gone for the weekend. The door to Dulcinea’s bedroom banged opened and out came Dulcinea herself, dressed to the nines in a proper outfit, hair done up, and high heels on - makeup, jewelry, and purse at the ready. Gretta was so stunned she had a hard time finding words as Dulcinea carefully walked down the stairs. She’d barely left her rooms for months.
“Miss Dulcy. What are- Where- How…” the old servant could barely get a sentence out.
“Don’t stutter Gretta it makes you sound idiotic,” the girl said coolly. Reaching the bottom step she paused but for a moment, then walked to the door. “Send the car around, I need to run an errand,” she said nonchalantly.
“Yes Miss Dulcy, but where are you going?” Gretta almost cried. The young women’s red head turned, her blue and green eyes eerily shifting back to the old servant to pin her where she stood.
“I’m going to go get Sirius,” she said, the words sounding of a deadly promise before she disappeared out the door.
It had taken almost a year to find him. The entire time that everyone thought she did nothing all day, Dulcinea spent researching. Days bled together as she read reports, listened to the news, made phone call after phone call, and finally, she had found him. The business thug that had hired out Sirius’s services and collected him from jail the same day he’d been booked. With a call to the bank for a balance on her trust fund, and all the courage she could summon … she was ready.
If her parents weren’t going to take the time to find Sirius, Dulcinea certainly would. They could go sop up the sympathies of their goddamn friends at having a traumatized daughter, but if they thought they were going to stop her – that she was going to leave Sirius, they could go f*** themselves. He would never have left her … not willingly. There was little she understood about the company that hired out these men … but she had an address in New York.
Hours later in New York, the car slowed to a stop and Dulcinea took a deep breath before stepping out and allowing the driver to escort her through the gates. It took a long conversation with a terrible man. He was arrogant and rude, making quips about shifters she didn’t understand and even sneering at the fact that she was so young, but Dulcinea calmly would not take no for an answer. Only after she raised her offer twice, giving almost everything she had did he agree to an illegal, under the table bribe. The owner gathered the paperwork; she gave her signature, and waited down the hall to collect Sirius.
She waited patiently as they brought him from many rooms away and when the door opened she rose to her feet and turned. He was silent, his jaw tight, and an angry stare leveling from the floor. It didn’t change when his eyes met hers. He was in bad shape, with bruises and all over. She doubted they’d let him bathe in forever. Dulcinea simply turned to the gentleman that sipped his coffee loudly and wiped his mouth on his cheap suit and rose a brow.
“Yes, this is him. I will have the money wired to your account as we agreed,” she tucked a stray hair behind an ear, and cleared her throat. “Now if you will kindly remove his handcuffs, we will be on our way.”
They said nothing on the long journey back. At the airport, she purchased a change of clothes while he showered. Reaching home, there was nothing explained to her squalling parents as they went up to her bedroom, and nothing confessed as she indiscreetly dressed for bed, and without event or care that it was still mid-afternoon, she curled up next to her guardian to sleep well for the first time in almost a year.
The bill was passed, one that her own father had been pushing for years.
Where once it was illegal to test blood for shifter genes without the patient’s permission, now a blood screening was made routine. There was no courtesy, no consideration. The next morning, UNIT busted through the front door of the Sterling home. Dulcinea was at breakfast, chatting with Sirius about starting school again. UNIT took her in pajamas, all the while her yelling at Sirius not to hurt anyone. There wasn’t even time to say goodbye.
The camera flashes were blinding. Mr. Sterling had been running for Governor. Had he known his daughter was a shifter? What would he do? Was there any comment? Was he or his wife a shifter?
Dulcinea, having never shifted in her life, was dumped in The Menagerie shortly after. It was too much to believe she’d ever see her family, or Sirius ever again.