Solange

Solange ( pronounce Sowlanj ) is a small woman, who would easily go unnoticed if her head was still attached on her shoulders.

But she often gets looks as she walks by, her collar fluttering in the air without a neck to keep warm.

Her face can often be found at her waistline, cupped by her hands or tucked against her elbow.
Her purple bow, besides complementing her short hair, doubles as a carry handle. However, she dislikes the head sway, and only resorts to it when she's has to.
She wears black and red. But mostly red.
Red eyes, red hair, red nails and a red cape, stitched to a tall collar designed to hide her neck area. Sometimes a short dress. Sometimes a short skirt. Be it hot or freezing, Solange enjoys the air on her legs.

Born and raised in an underground sect, a life away from natural sunlight left her with this pale complexion. And her genetics – perhaps her diet as well – gave her that signature small frame along with it. In a state of undress, even if few ever witnessed it, her figure is slim. But not sickly either. It has a tranquil vitality to it, flowing through her in steady breaths.

She doesnt mind her flat chest ; her head is enough of a burden. However, a round butt is a traveler's blessing. And Solange wasn't blessed in that regard. Long or rough rides leave her aching, so she developped a silent passion for cushions, pillows ...and oogling plump passengers with envy.

A sigil is tatooed between her shoulder blades : a circle inside a diamond shape, the mark of the sect in wich she was raised : The Seeing Eye.

Her hands have a subtle quality to them, one that would elude the regular observer.
Admitedly, they are feminine and manucured, but you would trust them to open a jar in a single twist, extend a firm greeting or beat you at thumb wresling.

As for her supernatural features, Solange's head is disconnected from her body. Where her neck should start and end, two pools of dark oil burn quietly in their place. The black flames licking the surface emit neither heat nor light, and rarely rise high.

The pools act like portals. As an exemple, water entering her mouth pool will travel directly to her body. Water entering her neck pool will do the same. (She sometimes drinks that way, making it look like she's watering herself.)
However, water exiting her body will go through her mouth again. If you were enough of a weirdo to dip your finger in her neck pool, you would feel the lining of her trachea...

...or come up the back of her tongue when trying below her head. Letting you decide whats worse.
You would feel a bit of resistance at first, then an otherworldly feeling of shifting and quivering as your fingers go through the portal.

Solange has some control over her pools and can keep them closed for a short while, similar as holding her breath. As such, her biggest fear is water. Her body would drown even if her head stayed dry. Additionally, swimming while holding her head would quickly prove exhausting. But her head can stay submerged by her self for extended periods of time, since her body can still breathe on its own.

Solange never had much agency over her life. She was born a dulhahan, as part of an underground sect, hidden beneath a cold and remote bastion of civilisation. Here, miners, beggars, savants rich and poor secretly prayed to their god: The Seing Eye.

Why was her head detached from her body ?
No one knows for certain. Those kind of things happened sometimes.
Was it linked to the centuries of dark rituals performed beneath the earth ? To the chants echoing in the damp hallways ? To the blood sigils on the walls ? On her mother's belly ?
Hard to tell.
What's certain is: It wasn't planned. And Solange never knew her parents.

She was raised by a priest of the sect, and her childhood was stern and silent, just as he was. She did his cooking, his cleaning, his laundry and ran all his errands. Navigating the underground forged her mettle at a young age. Narrow pathway along dark chasms, burrowing monster in the mines, flash floods in the sewers, rats, zealots, kidnappers, bullies more often.

Unable to act with the burden of her own head, she learned to run, to hide, to convince and endure.
Solange was never considered an individual by the sect. She was the priest's creature, and as such, nothing grand was expected from her ; she was left to her own devices, wich were reading – a lot of reading – and caligraphy. Ink and paper were forbiden to her, so she used coals and stone.

Solange prayed daily to the Eye, assisting to the priest rituals and sacrifices for almost two decades.
But one day, the priest collapsed. And when he woke up, bewildered, he etched and inked a symbol of the Eye in his dulhahan's back.
Then he told her to leave. And never come back.
She had to reach the end of the world, where another priest was waiting for her to sacrifice. She was told her success was paramount.

So, with that, Solange went. To the surface, and the world's end. She was enthusiastic to discover her existence served a purpose, after all. Maybe she would meet people along the way ?

What stands out in Solange is her composure, her calm demeanor even in tense situations.
Coming from such an occult background, she is curiously pure, level-headed and reasonable. It certainly gave her an eccentric perspective on life, although she does not let her beliefs rule her. Everything still feels new out there. She is confident about her place in the world, but never questioned what she was taught about the human dominion over all living things. So she respects them as such.

Solange looks quiet and hard to approach at first glance, but she's a docile and diplomatic creature at heart. She will appeal to reason in the face of adversity, and to compassion if all else fails. She only ever gets red and flustered if you point out a mistake she's made. Or when an aspect from everyday life is different from what she learned in books.
She's also weak to genuine acts of kindness and compliments, two things she's really not used to.

She always feels helpless when someone grabs her head without warning. It's a scary but thrilling sensation of vulnerability, being in a stranger's hand.

Disclaimer: Those are just ideas thrown in the wind to help you get an idea of what I like. You don't have to pick one of these. In fact, I want to know what you imagined between your character and a dullahan when you read her profile.



Travel / Sci - Fi:

I designed Solange to be a blend of calm and collected despite a grim past, with a sweet and endearing undertone. I'd like her RPs to reflect that. Someone that candidly discovers the world as she travels through it, undisturbed by the death that supposedly awaits her at the "end of the world". I want Solange's story to be a journey of "first times". Contemplative, embarrassing, bizarre, stressful, laid-back, romantic, intimate, spiritual.
I'd like to have fun exploring what it means to be a dullahan in the wide open world, to discover the daily struggles and advantages of carrying your head around.
And, when it comes down to it, the fun perks of having a separate body and head when the mood gets spicy.
Solange doesn't know it but she's probably pansexual. That includes horned, scaly and furry folks among other creatures.
I enjoy chaste but also smut focused stories. Solange has a lot to learn and she is willing to.
I want her to make new acquaintances, meet kind or interesting people.
It could also be fun to put her in uncomfortable situations, with characters that, let's say, don't have her best interests in mind. Low-key bullies ? Full-on psychos ? Let's talk, and see how rough we decide to go on that poor dullahan.

I'd be down for a long term story partner.

I welcome a lot of characters but here are some stereotypes I like: Another spindly buddy. An older rough and grizzled traveler. Your local queer hacker cutie. Someone built like a Space Marine, or Chad Thundercock. Literally Chisato from Lycoris Recoil.
All of this, of course, is open to discussion.