Vulpes Corvus [1]

[Sunday, March 17, 2011 - Saint Patrick's Day & Introductions]

Di-Tinin breathed a sigh of relief when the small red light on her camera began to blink. "Finally." She placed it down upon her nightstand and took a seat. The lens was successful in capturing her image, though mildly out of focus. "Ah damn. How do I start this?" She shook her head. "Doth, I mean. How doth I start this?" A low voice with a strange accent poured from her rot.

Her appearance was one of any typical twelve-year-old girl; slightly willowy and small with a clumsy way of moving. But that's about where the idea of ordinary ended.

Her complexion was a rich caramel tint with a smattering of dark freckles about her cheeks and neck. Her hair, black as a raven's feathers, was fluffy and danced around mid-back. But what struck others as the most unusual part of her presentation was her eyes. They were a dark hazel hue with charcoal abysses for pupils, all wide and intelligent. Like she knew something about you that you don't. Real horrorshow stuff, I tell you.

A baggy shirt of some dark color clothed the top half of her frame, covered in faded pink shapes that might've been flowers. Anything below the waist was black.

For background, we are given a wall painted a pale azure tone. In the far upper corner of the screen, just barely visible within the frame, are the frayed ends of stark white feathers. The only other element of notice was a symbol scratched into the paint above Di-Tinin's head. It appears to be a diamond inside of a diamond with a small circle in the middle.

Di-Tinin glanced about her room for a moment, gave an exasperated huff. "Doo'da, doo'da. Wrong." She walked forward and paused the recording.

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The light began blinking once more. Visuals showed the same young girl but with an outdoor environment. The landscape was all dry earth with short and rough but dense patches of grass bloomed up through cracks in the dirt. (Welcome to Utah, bratchnies.) She appeared to be sitting down on the less than pleasing ground. The location of the camera was unknown but it was high enough to show the bust upwards and nothing more.

"Wehee, this is more like it." Di-Tinin murmured as she glanced about the area out of frame. "Wehee, this'll do nicely." She cleared her throat, shook her head. "This will." There she went again with correcting herself. But for what reason, hmm?

She had inhaled deeply and looked down into what was presumably her lap. There she stayed for maybe a few seconds before peering back up into the lens once more. "Yá'át'ééh, shi akʼisóó." She gave a nervous laugh after the words left her mouth. "Shi yízhí nilį́ Di-Tinin Manaba." She dragged her fingers through the top of her hair. "I am currently twelve years of age. My birthday was the eighth of this month." She glanced downwards once more. "Today is Saint Patty's Day."

The layout of unusual objects in the video are a curiously mature tween, an untranslatable language, and a date soaked in alcohol. Speaking of which, the girl brought into the frame a crown-shaped bottle containing amber liquid. A label across the glass proclaimed it as Crown Royal brand apple-flavored whisky.

    Di-Tinin turned the bottle over in her hands. The booze sloshed against the clear sides. She gave another anxious-sounding giggle. “This is the first time I will be drinking anything containing alcohol.” She muttered to the camera. “A perfect day for a lady’s first dip in spirits, aye?” She sounded entirely unsure of whether or not she was going to go through with it. Something was nagging at the back of her subconscious, that much was clear. “I am almost thirteen anyway…”

    After staring down into the bottle in her grasp, she sighed. Muttered incoherently. She broke the shrink wrap seal around the cap with some difficulty as the tight wrapping refused to budge. “Amá, Azhéʼé, yázhí hádí, this is for you.” Fingers wrapping around the ferrule, she twisted until it came free. This took a few tries. The engraving in the plastic lid scraped roughly against her palms. Finally it loosened and was removed.

    Wasting no time, the foolish devotchka put the rim of the whisky bottle to her lips and let the stinging sour fruit-flavored liquid rush into her mouth. From what the footage showed, this idiotic action caused her great discomfort. The liquor burned at her tongue and throat, which caused her hazel eyes to water. Tears waterfalled their way down her freckled cheeks. She got a good swig in before realizing she had rushed blindly into this decision.

Haphazardly and gracelessly, Di-Tinin sat the bottle down with a thunk on the dirt somewhere to her right. Evidently this action caused some of the whisky to splash out of its glass confines because when she pulled that hand back up into frame, the caramel skin was dripping with amber fluid. She swallowed down what was in her mouth with visible reluctance. It was like drinking liquid fire, she decided, though it had a distinct taste that could only be described as rotten caramel apples.

A hacking fit ensued after gulping down the damned firegold. Deep, ragged, barking coughs echoed in her abused throat. She doubled over forward, the hand that had gotten wet grasping at her neck. This was only visible for a few seconds before she disappeared out of frame.