there is a strange young woman in the hotel room next to you. you ran into her in the elevator and she greeted you by telling you that your hair will look lovely tomorrow, and that it looks like your grandmother wore it on her first date with a stranger four decades ago. when you didn't know what to say she apologized, introduced herself as circe croft, and stepped off the elevator but held the door for you on her way out. you don't think she sleeps much, if at all, if the faint sound of the tv through the thin wall all night is anything to go by. at least she keeps the volume down. you think about trying to catch her in the hall tomorrow, when your hair will supposedly look lovely, and ask how she knew that about your grandmother. when you wake up in the morning with a particularly good hair day, you discover circe croft has already checked out. you never see her again.
circe croft knows everything. she has since the moment she was born. the word for it - omniscience - doesn't encapsulate the experience of it. nothing could. not really. what is there to compare to the sheer sound of everything that has been, that will be, that is, playing through a mind all the time, all at once? it is incomprehensible. even to circe, most of the time, some massive jumble of noise rattling unceasingly through her skull without fault, without faltering, without wavering in its noise for even a moment. she didn't ask for it. she didn't want it - doesn't - doesn't want it. every thought, every life, every breath and moment and creation and creator and - and - and. there's always another and. there's never an end to it all.
he met circe when they were both in second grade. he remembers her because of her overalls and her pigtails and her too-wide, too-distant eyes. she'd been sitting alone on a swing at recess with her hands pressed over her ears and her too-wide too-distant eyes locked on the chaos of the playground. his mother had always told him to be nice to shy kids, so he did just that - wandered up to the girl from his class and got on the swing next to her and was about to say his name when she said it for him without even looking at him. circe croft said his name, which wouldn't be too weird, maybe she heard someone else say it - - - but then she said more names. his mom and dad. a string of names he didn't know, wouldn't know for years until he met his future wife and then they started talking about baby names and the memory of little circe croft sitting on the swings spitting names came back to his mind. she'd kept going with dates, numbers, names. he hasn't thought to write them down at the time. now he sometimes wishes he had.
robert croft never quite knew how to handle his only daughter. he'd never known how to talk to her mother, either, with her incomprehensible knowledge and her true otherworldliness. when she vanished shortly after pressing circe into his arms he didn't know what to do. so he tried his best ; he pulled her out of school when it seemed to be distressing her too much and homeschooled her instead, even though she barely seemed to need it. he listened to her talk about things he couldn't understand. he helped paste glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of her bedroom under her watchful gaze so she had constellations to look at when the noise of everything she knew kept her awake. he watched her grow and did everything he could to help her feel like she fit on the skin of this earth better, even if he knew it was never quite enough. circe knew he was trying. she could never fault him for not making the impossible happen.
when i wake up i always look at the ceiling for a long time. i let myself orient where i am, when i am, why i am. i try to let myself breathe. i think about the stars still pasted above the bed in my childhood bedroom, and my dad in his kitchen making himself coffee and worrying about me, and all the feet that have tread on those floors and all the feet that will. and then i get up. and then i got up. and then i'll get up.
- an independent & original character circe croft written by bee (24, she/they, est) originally established in 2012.
- circe is omniscient. if we interact, she will know things about your character - everything. she does have trouble sorting through knowledge but she will know things beyond what she ought to. i wholly understand if this is not something some people are comfortable with playing with! please feel free not to follow if this aspect of her character is not for you.
- general trigger warnings for panic attacks & anxiety, disassociation, mentions of death, war, and violence. any triggers will be tagged trigger tw.
- i am selective & mutuals only, so i only interact with blogs that i follow. please do not take it personally if i do not follow you back - i am selective in order to keep my dash clean! - but i ask that you please do not im me if we are not mutuals.
- i do NOT write smut. it makes me uncomfortable. please do not pressure or ask me about doing this as it is not something that brings me any joy or interest.
- circe is my brainchild of a decade at this point, if not more. i ask that you please do not take or use anything of her without my express permission. i've spent years thinking about and changing this character (she started as an xmen oc in a group rp, lol) and hope you all come to love her just as much as i do!
name: circe croft
nicknames: little star ( used exclusively by her father ). cici
species: ??? & human
age: twenty-five
gender: cis female
pronouns: she / her
orientation: pansexual, panromantic
date of birth: august 30th, 1997
place of birth: pittsburgh, pennsylvania
hair: dark, long, wavy. circe's hair is often something of a mess, the last thing on her mind. if not worn loose and hopelessly tangled, she ties it up in varying quick and easy ways - ponytails, sloppy buns, braids that are more falling apart than staying together. she always means to get it cut but hates knowing the truth behind a hair stylist's friendly banter.eyes: there is something terribly unnerving about circe crofts eyes. they are her most prominent feature, the thing one will remember most if they speak to her in passing. too-wide for her face and heavily shadowed with sleeplessness, a pale blue in color, and never quite looking directly at you. there is usually something distant and not-really-there about her gaze.height: 5'6".build: gawky. angular. often a touch too thin due to on and off general food aversion due to migraines triggered by her omniscience. there is little to no muscle tone on her, as she has never been the athletic or sporty sort.style: circe prefers light layers, one over the other. sundresses and sweaters. skirts and camisoles and cardigans. she prefers skirts and dresses to pants or trousers, and flat shoes over heels in every measure - she is terrible at walking in heels. her ears are pierced twice on the cartilage and she does not wear dangly earrings, only studs, often a pair of gold star-shaped studs. circe does not wear jewelry aside from earrings. she tends towards soft and warm colors - peaches, muted browns, gentle yellows and clear-sky blues.faceclaim: margaret qualley.
father: robert daniel croft. fifty-two. alive, human, well. doesn't quite know what to do with himself now that his daughter has moved out. they talk on the phone twice a week, once on monday mornings before he goes to work and once on friday evenings while they both look at the night sky.mother: "helena croft". true name unknown & unpronounceable. not human. not at all. made of star-stuff. left the world shortly after circe was born. not alive, but not dead - she was always both at the same time. has never spoken to her daughter. never will.
occupation: illustrator & freelance artist.abilities: omniscience - "the state of knowing everything." circe knows quite literally everything there is to know. every moment of time that has been, is being, or will be. it sounds fun, like knowing a secret. it isn't. it's loud. it's something she cannot turn off. it's something no even partially human brain is meant to be able to comprehend. it is debilitating most of the time.hobbies: painting. dancing, though she isn't very good. walking for hours on end. singing - she does better at this than dancing. playing piano, which she does best of all.strengths: highly empathetic. highly intelligent. friendly. inquisitive. gentle. very good listener. observant. sensitive. affectionate.weaknesses: difficult to relate to or understand. fragile. generally somewhat strange to interact with. erratic. easily upset. easily frightened.
main: general real world & varying superhero (dc/marvel, stranger things, etc.) type universes. circe croft is strange. that is agreed upon by most people who know her. odd, quiet, and travelling from place to place, never seeming to settle for any particular number of days. if asked she will say something about only staying as long as she feels the need to. it isn't that she's trying to find anything in particular. she knows there's nothing to find, no sense of true belonging anywhere here on earth, but she will move around. she will do little things she can to try to make things better for those around her - warning people about the car about to race around the corner, offering tips on dates someone has told her nothing about, being in the right place at the right time for something good to happen. it's the least she can do. it's the most she can do.dragon age: what is she? a good question. not quite human, not quite spirit. not quite anything. some might call her a particularly powerful spirit of knowledge. some might call her a particularly confused possessed apostate. circe offers up little answer either way. what she does instead is try to get to the place where what she knows - so much - will be most applicable and best used for the good of the beings around her.