Summary: Orpheus, the "Master of Strings". It was a fitting persona, for someone as manipulative as her... The world was a stage, and she was the puppet master. Minako/Female Protagonist introspect. P3P.
Author's Note: A (short) experimentation of metaphors, written in the POV of Minako in P3P. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Persona series.
Mistress of Strings
Created By: x-LittleMissAlice-x
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"Puppets are such fragile things. Manipulate their strings, and watch them fall. "
Unknown
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Orpheus, the notorious "Master of Strings". It was such a fitting persona, especially for someone like her.
The world around her was a stage, and the people living within it were nothing more than puppets. Their strings were invisible to most, concealed by made-up faces (masks, personae), dim lighting, and the acts of the screenplay unfolding before them…
But Minako Arisato couldn't be fooled (she was The Fool, after all). Her vermilion eyes could see past the lighting, the masks, the charade…
She could see the strings.
No, she could do more than see them: Minako could touch them, pull them, maneuver them… manipulate them as well as Orpheus could play his lyre.
Yes, their strings quivered with each practiced, upward curl of her glossy pink lips. Every systematic assembly of words that escaped her (calculated words that the puppets yearned more than anything else to hear, to have rung within their forsaken, hollowed out ears) coaxed the glinting strings to bend, wane, and eventually slack.
By then, they were as good as hers.
Eager to do anything she asked, willing to drop and do anything she wanted. The puppets would gaze up at her longingly, begging to be attended to, to be played with; to continue their predictable story and overcome their small, meaningless conflicts, until their segment in the overarching play ended-
Never realizing that once the puppet's role was finished, they would be thrown away without a second thought, never to be spoken of or attended to again...
Yet the puppets seemed to be fine with that. Even though she no longer pulled on their strings, she still had an invisible hold on them- because she could manipulate them, like no one else could. Perhaps that was why they seemed more than content waiting within her little box of toys, for whenever she needed use of them.
There were a few interesting puppets, though—puppets who would nor fall with a mere smile or nod, or perhaps feeding a trivial line here and there. These truly worthwhile puppets would continue to stand, to remain strong and firm, despite their thin and disjointed legs threatening to collapse beneath them; despite the oppressive force of their own existence crushing them…
Yet still, eventually, they would fall. The final push would not be by her hands: time would be their undoing.
With time, they would accept their fate. With time, even the strongest of puppets would crumple submissively into the palm of her hand.
Yes, with enough time the play would end, and the final curtain would fall.
It was just a matter of waiting.
I am considering writing detailed descriptions of different types of puppets, and how they relate to the main male P3 cast and their respective social links… Whether the surge of inspiration will hit me and I will one day get around to it is a different story entirely, however.
As always, if you enjoyed or appreciated this piece, please leave review.
Have a lovely evening.
xLMAx