£ 012.
[the video starts out with static, but eventually clears to gemma's back. she's stanidng in front of a full-length mirror, her red hair is down, curling all over the place. she's facing the mirror, in just her chemise. her voice is low and inviting. she's murmuring lowly, obviously unaware that the comm has turned on.]
--don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance. I have--
[and she stops. her tone drops to one of self-disappointment.]
--as much color as the moon. That's what I have. Hm.
[she tries rearranging her hair, pinching her cheeks. the sleeves of her chemise slip down and her freckled shoulders are visible beneath her hair. she takes a deep breath. she stares at herself for a moment, and seems dissatisfied.
suddenly, her fingers start to glow. the room around her begins to shimmer, to waver, and soon it's an indian throne room. pottery and jewelry are scattered all around, and gemma herself is wearing a sari. her hands and feet are inked with henna. she seems much more at ease, suddenly.]
There we are. Now. [she clears her throat. her tone is more commanding than before.] Who goes there?
[a door somewhere outside her window slams, and she's plucked out of her reverie. her body jerks forward, and her hand slides across a table next to her, knocking the pottery to the ground. but it hits the floor and shatters without a sound. the illusion flickers, and fades after a few seconds, leaving gemma just as she was a few moments ago. she sighs.]
And here we are.
[the recording cuts.]
--don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance. I have--
[and she stops. her tone drops to one of self-disappointment.]
--as much color as the moon. That's what I have. Hm.
[she tries rearranging her hair, pinching her cheeks. the sleeves of her chemise slip down and her freckled shoulders are visible beneath her hair. she takes a deep breath. she stares at herself for a moment, and seems dissatisfied.
suddenly, her fingers start to glow. the room around her begins to shimmer, to waver, and soon it's an indian throne room. pottery and jewelry are scattered all around, and gemma herself is wearing a sari. her hands and feet are inked with henna. she seems much more at ease, suddenly.]
There we are. Now. [she clears her throat. her tone is more commanding than before.] Who goes there?
[a door somewhere outside her window slams, and she's plucked out of her reverie. her body jerks forward, and her hand slides across a table next to her, knocking the pottery to the ground. but it hits the floor and shatters without a sound. the illusion flickers, and fades after a few seconds, leaving gemma just as she was a few moments ago. she sighs.]
And here we are.
[the recording cuts.]