u/IndividualLanguage88

I know I want most of it to be waterproof/smudgeproof/whatever is good for when you're running around and surrounded by water, since she's a magician by trade and uses water in her acts.

I imagine she wears foundation, a little blush, and blue sparkly eyeshadow and lipstick.

I'm mostly looking to ask, right now at least, what would happen if she went in the shower with all of her makeup on, if she got lazy and chose not to properly wipe it off, which is what's happening in my story.

Sorry if this doesn't belong here since it isn't about real makeup

the following is not the full first chapter, but I want feedback on how it reads from someone without my knowledge of the world I've built

“Alright kids,” said a young lady in front of a class, “before the assembly, let’s say the rhyme to remind ourselves what we’re about to watch, okay?”
“Okayyyyy,” responded the group of children, who didn’t want to go to a boring assembly about the Spiritums.
“Alright, one, two, three,” she started and clapped to the slow beat.
“Water, fire, ground, and air. There are two more if you care. Life and death and dark and light. Is that all? Yes that’s right!” They all sang together, almost painfully monotone.
“Great job kids,” she smiled. A young boy raised his hand. “Yes, Timmy?”
“Isn’t that four more elements?” he asked. “Like, life, death, dark, light. That’s four, so why is the nursery rhyme two? Are the people who made it up not good at counting?”
Spirits consume me, Timmy. I know we talked about this last week because I started grading your quizzes from the end of the week this morning, which you failed, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.
She smiled wider and clapped her hands together. “Well Timmy, that’s because life and death and dark and light are each pairs considered as single elements. One cannot affect life without affecting death and vice versa, and one cannot affect light without affecting darkness and vice versa.”
“But doesn’t that go for all the Spiritums?” questioned Timmy, thinking he was slick. Or maybe he was just stupid. Nobody will ever know.
His teacher breathed deeply. “Not in quite the same way. It is, unfortunately, not part of my curriculum to teach about the intricacies of the Spiritums, so you will have to wait to learn more in depth.” A bell sounded shortly after she finished speaking.
“Well class,” she sighed, happy to get a break from this child for a short time, “it’s time for the assembly. I hope you learn something interesting.”
She opened her door and her class walked to the school’s gymnasium. There were chairs in two rectangles with an aisle between them . The students chose where they sat, usually with friends, and waited for the assembly to start.
“Welcome all,” began a tall, kind looking man, “to this semester’s Spiritum Assembly. I know many of you are not excited to simply hear about the complex origins of our world, so I’ve brought in someone I hope you will all enjoy to help make the story more fun, and show us something fun after.
“Please welcome the Stage Spiriman, Eira the Icicle!” he exclaimed with a wave of his hand. From the side of the room, a young-looking, gray-haired woman walked toward the principal. She wore sparkling, white gloves that contrasted greatly with her dark blue tuxedo atop a light blue dress shirt. Her pants, matching her tuxedo’s color, flared out at the bottom, letting her sparkling blue flats show with each step she took.
Behind her, a few staff members brought in carts with buckets of water each dyed various colors, and placed them around her. One more came in with a cart covered in velvet, presumably hiding her props for her act.
“Hey there kiddos!” Eira exclaimed loudly, not taking the microphone the principal was handing her. “I’m here to make the visuals for the story your principal is about to tell you!” her hands made large, exaggerated motions as she spoke.
 The children murmured, mostly talking about why she’d need water if she was a light Spiriman, some even raised their hands. After all, what other way would she have to produce visuals? Eira understood their lines of thought and smiled widely. “If you’re wondering about the water, kiddos,” she began, “here’s why I need it!”
She waved her hands over the buckets as if conducting the colors and the water levels went down ever so slightly. She pointed above her and the children marveled, for in the middle of the air in front of them was a stained-glass window made of colored water. It portrayed their school mascot, a white-suited man with a head made of all colors of crystals.
“GOOO PRISM-HEADS!” Eira cheered. As she jumped, the ice came crashing down behind her and shattered into hundreds of small, incredibly thin pieces, before quickly melting. Fortunately, while the children were looking at the magical ice window, a small pool had magically appeared below it, ensuring no stray water would leak onto the floor.
“Now that we have your attention,” said the principal of the school, “let us officially begin the Spiritum Assembly. This semester’s subject will be the origin of Spirits, Dark Spirits, and Spiritum.
“Long ago, the world was uninhabited by humans,” the principal began his speech. As he spoke, Eira once again waved her hands over her buckets, eventually producing her ice windows at specific times to create the best effect as he spoke.
“There were no animals either. Instead, there were Spirits. Spirits representing the core truths of the world. Water, and all of its forms. The Ground, and all that we pull from it. Air, that which we can safely breathe, and that which we cannot. Fire, representing the changes of temperature. The Life Cycle, that all living things, plant, and animal alike, are part of. And finally, Luxatenebris, that which we can see, and that which we cannot.
“We call these core truths that Spirits reign over and embody, the Spiritum. And we call those with the abilities to control one part of the Spiritum, Spiritum Manipulators, or Spirimans.”
Eira let her circle of ice showing the six Spiritums fall and took a small bow and waved her hands at the crowd of children, almost like the principal was just talking about her.
“The Spirimans are people like any of us blessed by the Spirits of the Spiritum they most closely align with on a deep level.” The principal glanced over at Eira and raised his eyebrows as if to suggest she do something.
I’m already doing all the frickin work you want me to do more? Eira gritted her teeth and smiled. “That’s right,” she said forcibly cheerfully. “I, as the nearest example, am a Water Spiriman, with the Sub-Spiritum of Ice. More specifically, I’m a Caller.”
“Oh, thank you for mentioning that,” the Principal said with a smile. “We’ll discuss the different categories of Spiriman towards the end, so please, put that in one of your fabulous pockets for later, haha!
“As the wonderful Eira said, each Spiritum has more than one piece to it. Water has liquid water, ice, and, in rarer cases, steam. Fire has fire itself in a beautiful variety of colors as well as giving and taking heat. Ground has some of the widest variety, containing soil, sand, minerals, and metals, with many varieties of all of them that we do not have time for today. The Air Spiritum has air we can safely breathe, as well as air we cannot, even air that makes our voices higher or lower, and it can sound so wonderfully funny.” He let out a joyous chuckle.
“As for The Life Cycle Spiritum, it applies to any living thing, human animal, and plant alike, giving it unarguably the widest variety, as it also covers both giving and taking life, meaning it doubles in the Sub-Spiritum category from the incredibly wide variety it already has. Last, but not least is Luxatenebris. It largely allows for a small variety of illusions, but there are an incredibly rare few who can give temporary physical form to Light and Darkness; truly a fascinating Spiritum.”

If you have any suggestions, please don't hold back, as long as it's constructive

Sorry.

It was addictively natural on my tongue

As I rolled it around

Tasting like a drop of honey,

Feeling like a little cloud.

Once it fell out of my mouth,

I had to say it again.

I had to feel it again.

But each time I said it,

It felt shorter than the last,

So I said it over and over and over,

Until it was no longer a sweet treat,

But instead a ball of razors, slicing my tongue,

Leaving only the taste of iron and rust.

Sorry.

It was the only thing I knew how to say,

And it was so very sweet,

So I said it until it hurt,

But now I’ve finally spit it out for the last time.

Not yet free from sorry’s scars.

And yet, I choose to explore the many flavors

This world has for me.

This poem is inspired by how often I feel the need to apologize, no matter how small the inconvenience, but more so by the fact that sometimes I genuinely feel like I need to apologize so many times at once I end up saying sorry dozens of times and struggle to stop myself