Rise of the Sea Witch - Melodramatic, Gothic, Villainous, Characters
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I admit that in the past I was a princess. They weren't kidding when they called me. Well, a spoiled twit tentacles rolling and churning beneath me. I turned to the newest member of my little garden with effortless grace, arms thrown out wide. I grant the shriveled polyp of beguiling smile. Those around him, tremble in fear, pulling as far away from him as their roots deep within the ocean floor will allow through rather unfortunate circumstances. It became mandatory. I mend my ways and yes, some of the techniques I employed earned me the title, never my queen flats and murmurs coiling around my upper arm. He drapes himself across my shoulder. Jetsons oily scales. Lovingly brushed my cheek. Every one of them was deserving of your wrath, shoulders curling in, I pucker my lips which are freshly glossed by a crimson sea flower and tenderly scratch each of them under their chins. How horrible can I be to be so adored by such sweet babies! She laughed. Their unwavering dedication soothes me, allowing me to expel a calming breath that bubbles in a wreath around my face. I am not the horrible beast. Many think me to be yet I feel it is your own misconceptions that brought you here and led to, well, you know, floating past my ornate vanity mirror which seems out of place in the dreary cave. I call home, I suck in my cheeks, Turning my head one way and then the other. I inspect my reflection. A smug smile, curls the corners of my lips. The woman staring back at me is positively voluptuous with power Mayhem swirling within her clay gray eyes undoubtedly. You've heard of my banishment, hitching one eyebrow out my newly planted polyps. I watch him squirm under the weight of my attention. Do you even know my true given name? I wonder before. Hateful whisperings from the farthest reaches of the Seven seas dubbed me the Sea Witch. I went by another name, Princess Vanessa of Atlantica. I harbored dreams of bringing peace and happiness to the kingdom as their noble queen, jabbing my hands onto my ample hips. I turn in a swirl of black and purple. I'm not sure if that pitiful pelt is caused by your deep belonging to hear more, or if you're mourning the loss of your shriveled limbs. But with a theatrical role of my wrist, I snap my fingers mike. Holdren sparks to life, and ethereal green glow simmering from within. I choose to think the former, because it's about me, and all of my favorite things are, it would be predictable for me to say. It all began with the death of my mother, predictable and false. Water rushes beneath me with one mighty flap of all my tentacles. The power of the act propels me over to my alchemy shelves, where my fingers flick over the exposed vials. Some days I seek to terrorize my captives, calling out each ingredient or dangling it over their heads before tossing it into my brew tongue of porpoise. I of cuttlefish shell of sea turtle. I won't lie and say, watching their complexions, green and bug eyes bulge, isn't a guilty pleasure of mine for the moment, however, wave of generosity brought on by the mention of my mother, prompts me to toss them in without my usual theatrics. Each is received into the cauldrons. Wide mouth drum with a puff of smoke and a spray of sparks as much as I loved. My mother, losing her. Didn't drive me to madness, as some would have you believe? Hearing the melancholy in my tone, I bristle far from it. In fact, I would have subjected myself to an abysmal existence of the mundane in honor of her memory. No, it was after the black flags of mourning had been strung through the Kingdom. After the spectacle of her funeral procession had passed that my descent began.