Realistic or Modern Come My Love, Be One With The Sea (crew applications)

[forestferns]

alrighty everyone here’s the applications thread for the pirate roleplay!

The current due date for applications is November 20th

A friendly reminder that this roleplay is application based. Since there’s so many roles, you can apply for 2 roles at once, but you do not have to do so. If I pick another OC over yours and there’s still open roles left, you can apply for one of the open roles.

TAKEN ROLES:

CAPTAIN
dorienne 'dori' alda forestferns

FIRST MATE
sebastién renaud sophocles

NEWBIE
sereia tempest SavannahSmiles

TAILOR
margarita espinosa NewbiePotterhead

GUNNER
cordelia barrington Fabrikator.Nova

SURGEONS
raven azar Grimm and aramis lorcano lillymity

MUSICIANS
josephina archambeau sappho_ and sascha ocie

CARTOGRAPHER
alice okeanos wolfstar

OPEN ROLES:

COOKS
caspian morello Fabrikator.Nova and ???????

LOOKOUTS
?????? and ??????



So, you wanna become a crew member of The Night Jewel, huh? Well then, please fill out this application! You can use a code if you want to, but it is not required so long as you have everything that is in the form.

IMAGE OF CHARACTER GOES HERE

Full Name

Nicknames

Age - 20+

Gender

Pronouns

Sexuality - please include romantic and sexuality orientation

-------------------------------

Species - accepted species are humans, merfolk, sirens, selkies, vampires, and werewolves. if merperson or siren, please specify what kind. are they a great white shark merperson? a largemouth bass siren?

True Form Description - what do they look like when they take on their true form?

Powers and Abilites - what kind of magical powers if any and abilities do they gain in this form?

Human Form Description

Birthday - month, day, year, place of birth. reminder that this is 1658.

Body Modifications / Scars

Personality

-------------------------------

Role Amongst The Crew

Strengths and Weaknesses - what are they good at? what are they horrible at? what are they mediocre at?

How Long Have They Been With The Crew? - The Night Jewel has been going strong for 5 years.

History / Backstory - if you want, you can just list how they became a member of the crew. but this is completely optional!

Weaponry - what kind of weapons would you find on them? a cutlass? a dagger? etc.

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Likes

Dislikes

Habits

Fears

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Aroma

Faceclaim

Voiceclaim

Headcanons

 

[forestferns]

dorienne 'dori' alda

# captain

#flame angelfish mermaid

# halle bailey

♡coded by uxie♡

Full Name
dorienne alda

Nicknames
dori

Age
twenty-seven (27)

Gender
cis female

Pronouns
she/fae/they, please use all three of them equally

Sexuality
panromantic pansexual

-------------------------------

Species
flame angelfish mermaid

True Form Description
dori's tail is that of the gorgeous flame angelfish. it is a fiery orange in color with black horizontal stripes and dark blue tipped fins. dori has fiery orange scales all over her ribcage, the sides of her neck, on her elbows, and on her face. her fins have nicks in them, suggesting that she's been caught in the fisherman's hooks, or she has been encountered by predators. dori has fins along her backside.

Powers and Abilites - what kind of magical powers if any and abilities do they gain in this form?

Human Form Description

Birthday
april 17th, 1631

Body Modifications / Scars

Personality
oh, dori can easily be described as bubbly and cheerful, having an air of adventure around faer. dori has this huge energetic streak to them and is always down for a good adventure and seeing what the crew may encounter. the mere mention of a mystery or adventure will get dori all giddy and hyped up and fae will just jump up at any opportunity to steer the ship in the direction of a mystery. dori is a huge extrovert, a big social butterfly who loves being around other people and making new friends. dori wants to ensure that their crew members are happy and have high spirits and high morale. she does best when everyone is happy.

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Role Amongst The Crew
captain

Strengths and Weaknesses - what are they good at? what are they horrible at? what are they mediocre at?

How Long Have They Been With The Crew?
well, dori is the captain after all! so she's been captain of the ship for 5 years

History / Backstory
the only thing i will say is that how dorienne became captain of the night jewel is a mystery. some say she found the ship floating at sea completely abandoned, some say she borrowed (stole) the ship from somebody. nonetheless, she is the captain.

Weaponry - what kind of weapons would you find on them? a cutlass? a dagger? etc.

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Likes
sharks, candelight, fruits, the feeling of water, sea turtles, animals in general, flower crowns, pretty dresses, a good mystery, warm blankets, hearty meals, seashells, sand, the feeling of wind in their hair, sea shanties, singing and dancing, spooky stories

Dislikes
alcohol, sour foods, itchy clothes, fisherman nets, beef, bigots, being disturbed, bitter drinks, WIP

Habits
fingernail biting, twirling faer hair, pacing, humming

Fears
getting entangled, dying, cramped spaces

-------------------------------

Aroma
tangerine and ocean breeze

Faceclaim
halle bailey

Voiceclaim
halle bailey

Headcanons
- she is beauty, she is grace, she will slap you in the face with faer tail fin

- please refer to them as dori

- adopts stray animals and will bring them aboard the ship

- will scream at you if you slander sharks

- always happy to help out the cooks with catching fish

- hoardes seashells. i'm not joking when i say she has shelves in her cabin full of seashells

- wants to befriend a megalodon

- WIP ​

 

[sophocles]

i am nothing if not a creature of comfort and familiarity​

sebastién renaud

# the first mate

# santiago cabrera

coded by uxie

nicknames bastién, bast(ard)
age thirty-one
gender male
species human
pronouns he/him
orientation biromantic bisexual

date of birth eleven of may, 1627
place of birth unknown region of france​

appearance conventionally attractive for a pirate. he's of average height, standing about five-foot-nine without his boots on. he’s lean and toned, with a physique not unlike a ballet dancer. his chocolate brown hair waves and curls in the salty ocean air, kept tucked away behind his ears or underneath his hat. his eyes match the skies during a storm, a blue-grey that's both fierce and bewitching. his skin is tanned, blotched, and burned from the many long years underneath the sun. despite the nature of his profession, he does his best to maintain some form of cleanliness. a well-trimmed beard rests upon his chin, with an impressive mustache upon his upper lip. his wardrobe is elaborate and extravagant, revealing just how vain he can be.

body modifications & scars two piercings in his right ear. a fading scar above his right eye that shaved a portion of his eyebrow away. another one on the left side of his upper lip. one more across the left side of his stomach. a bullet wound scar on his right shoulder. a tattoo on the right side of his ribcage. various cuts and bruises across his body at any given time.

Spoiler: personality

personality grim and rough-edged, ever serious in the face of the chaotic world of piracy. bastién is a solemn figure, despite the frequent use of his dry sense of humor. he always seems generally displeased, known to keep his arms crossed, his gaze stern, and his eyebrows furrowed. he's impatient with questions and judgemental of those not knowing what he deems to be common knowledge. he tends to be more lenient with new crew, but he’ll tear right into anyone who’s sailed with him for years. he can be quite intimidating when annoyed. it does take a great deal to push him over the edge, however, and his anger is only reserved for those who threaten him and his crew.

despite all this, those who have sailed long with bastién know that he wasn't, and isn't, always so disapproving and indifferent. he can enjoy himself as much as the rest of them, whether that’s joining the crew for a drink, recounting a tale from his past, or leading the ship in a song. he knows how to have a good time when he wants to. his laugh is warm and his smile is contagious. it just seems like these days, he’s overcompensating for something. or someone.

yes, he comes across as hard to please, but he really puts up more of a front than he means. despite his gruff nature, bastién has always been a part of the night jewel. his loyalty should never be in question. he'll never not be protective of his captain and his crew— his family. he's said many a time that he would die for them, and he's meant that with every fiber of his being.

and for your sake, don't mistake his solemnity as pedestrian. the man's known for being quite sharp-witted and crafty. sure, he may disagree with a reckless plan, but that doesn't mean he won't contribute toward its fruition. he enjoys a daring escapade more than he lets on.

he is a pirate, after all.

virtues & vices adventurous, blunt, capable, clever, courageous, daring, deceptive, debonair, disciplined, grim, impatient, intense, intuitive, irritable, judgemental, leaderly, loyal, observant, outspoken, overcompensating, paternalistic, protective, rational, realistic, reliable, selfless, serious, solemn, stern, strict, superstitious, tense, tough, vain



historically a baby, born to forgotten parents. a boy, raised upon the sea. a man, sailing to find his destiny. the story of sebastién renaud is perhaps the most common pirate tale known to man. not that he'll let the world know that; he's told so many stories that even he's taken to believing them as truth.

role the first mate​

strengths master sailor, skilled swordsman, accurate marksman, navigator (compass)

weaknesses climbing rigging, reading, rousing speeches, giving proper feedback

weaponry bastién’s a swordsman through and through. a delicate-looking smallsword stays buckled to his waist— it’s a rich weapon, and he’s never been fully honest on where he got it from. he also keeps a simple dagger stuffed in one of his boots.

how long has he been with the crew about four years, give or take a few months.

likes elegant clothing, gemstones, the wind on his face, stargazing, sword fighting, sea shanties, sunrises, mangoes, maroon

dislikes stupid questions, seagulls, swimming in deep waters, the bourgeoisie and those above them

fears drowning, heights
​

Spoiler: facts

any question regarding his past before meeting dorienne or how he knows what he know is always answered with a grandiose story that may or may not be true. he’s a bit of a pathological liar.

he is frequently at the mercy of his own vanity. his eye is often captured by his own reflection. he’s drawn to sophisticated, distinguished, and expensive articles of clothing. his person is always adorned with the shine of earrings, medallions, and rings. he takes great pride in how he is perceived, and flattery is one of his shortcomings.

his tell has always been pulling on his left ear, happens when he’s lying or anxious. quite unfortunate, what with his impending gambling addiction.

he’s got a singing voice in the tenor range, and he’s learned a great deal of ship shanties and other such songs over the years. he sings to himself while he’s working on the ship, but if he’s caught in a good enough mood, he’ll lead the crew in a song or two.

both his fears of drowning and heights stem from his near death experience with a hurricane at sea.

he’s still left handed, despite being forced to learn to use his right hand growing since the left was “made unclean”. the lashings he accrued never quite made an impression enough for him to listen.

he definitely knows how to read. he absolutely does not pretend to understand the written word, nor does he try to pass it off to one of the crew so they can "read aloud for the rest of them.” it’s just proper delegation duties as the first mate, really.

https://pin.it/62OnLfqVH

https://spotify.link/RuD7vjupzBb

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

faceclaim & voiceclaim santiago cabrera​

​

 

[Fabrikator.Nova]

cordelia barrington

# gunner

# vampire

# clara paget

coded by uxie

• o
• o
• o
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• immortalized

  hidden citizens feat. keeley bumford

  
  

  
  

  
  

  01

  name

  Cordelia Barrington

  02

  nickname

  n//a

  03

  age

  "26" but is actually 150

  04

  date of birth

  June 30th, 1508

  05

  gender

  Cisgender Female

  06

  sexuality

  Demiromantic Pansexual

  07

  Pronouns

  She/Her

  08

  role

  Gunner/Weapons Expert

  09

  Species

  Vampire

  10

  Face Claim

  Clara Paget

  11

  Time with Crew

  1 Year and 8 Months

  12

  Voice Claim

  Laura Bailey as Vex'ahlia
• hair colour / style

  
  

  Cordelia’s hair is a striking, fiery red, alive with vibrant hues that catch the light and shimmer with golden tones when the sun hits it just right. She wears it long, allowing it to cascade down her back in wild, flowing waves. Often adorned with trinkets and baubles—tokens from the many treasures she's collected over her long life—her braids are a reflection of her adventures. Though she’s rarely seen without her leather hat, her fiery locks are most often left free, flowing freely as they tumble down her shoulders. The act of fixing her hair is something Cordelia finds oddly soothing, a quiet, meditative ritual amid her otherwise chaotic life.

  eyes

  
  

  An otherworldly teal-blue, it was as if she was made for the sea. Her turquoise colored eyes belies a soul much older than her appearance would reveal. While her face is usually passive and devoid of most expression, her eyes betray her inner thoughts like gazing through an oceanic mirror.

  build

  
  

  At first glance, she may appear to be the slender, almost delicate type—an ectomorph by all outward appearances. But this is a mere surface impression. Beneath that seemingly fragile exterior lies a vampiress of remarkable strength and resilience. Those who mistake her lean frame for weakness quickly learn how wrong they are, as any aggressor who underestimates her is bound to regret their decision... painfully.

  attire

  
  

  
  Cordelia is rarely seen without her beloved leather hat, and more often than not, she’s also wearing her long, weathered coat. Crafted by a master, the coat has withstood the test of time, serving her faithfully through countless trials and challenges. It’s a garment built to endure, much like its wearer.
  
  A practical woman at heart, Cordelia favors leather, knowing it can withstand the rough and tumble of her lifestyle. She prefers the freedom of flowy linen shirts paired with well-fitted trousers, choosing comfort and utility over the constraints of dresses—though she’ll don one if the occasion demands it, albeit reluctantly. A pirate, after all, is nothing without her belts and boots, and Cordelia is no exception. She’s become a skilled amateur cobbler over the years, patching and repairing her footwear to keep it in top shape, and her leatherwork extends to her belts and holsters, each one adorned with intricate scrollwork that speaks to her craftsmanship.
  
  Resourceful and prepared for anything, Cordelia’s attire reflects her readiness for the unpredictable life she leads.

  modifications

  
  

  As much as she would like them, nothing lasts on her skin. Piercings would close up almost immediately and tattoos fade within moments of inking. It's a bit of a sore spot for her as there are some sentimental pieces she would love to have immortalized on her body.

  scars / markings

  
  

  Much in the way of piercings or tattoos, Cordelia does not bear any scars on her body. Her form is nigh pristine save for the two puncture marks left between her neck and shoulder from when she was turned.

  physical / health ailments

  
  

  Cordelia, for all her mental fortitude, is a slave to her thirst for blood. Try as she might to fight it, she cannot deny it forever and must feed on human blood lest her hunger grow out of control.

  aroma

  
  

  Cordelia carries an intriguing scent, a blend of leather from the worn, well-loved garments she favors, mingling with the soft, heady notes of lavender, honeysuckle, and a touch of clove. It’s a fragrance that hints at the past—one that traces back to the moment she was turned, an ethereal signature that lingers in the air wherever she goes. The scent is an intoxicating part of her allure, as much a part of her vampiric nature as the predatory grace she exudes. It's a fragrance that lingers on the senses, both comforting and seductive, drawing those near without them ever quite understanding why.

  weight

  135lbs // 61kg

  height

  5'9'' // 175cm
• • o
  • o
  • o
  • o
  • o

  • virtues

    Loyal

    Charming

    Resourceful

    Protective

    Pragmatic

    Resilient
  • vices

    Stubborn

    Vengeful

    Self-Loathing

    Self-Destructive

    Cynical

    Emotional
  • likes

    Adventure/Exploration

    Leatherwork and Craftmanship

    The Moon/Nighttime

    Wine

    Music and Storytelling

    A good fight

    Companionship

    Night Markets and Shops

    dislikes

    Cowardice

    Betrayal

    Violence without purpose

    Cacophony

    Crowds

    Being restrained

    Mess/Clutter
  • strengths

    Weapons and Canons expert ;; Deception and Manipulation/Subterfuge ;; Living Lie Detector ;; Close Quarters Combat ;; De-escalation and Diplomacy ;; Craftsmanship ;; Cultural Knowledge ;; Level-Headedness ;; Sleight of Hand
    

    weaknesses

    Respecting Authority Outside of the Ship ;; Cooking ;; Fully Trusting Others ;; Artistic Expression (painting, singing, instruments) ;; Unable to Relax ;;

    habits

    Lip biting while thinking ;; Forgets that she's a vampire and is sometimes too silent or still ;; Purveyor of trinkets and souvenirs for herself and crew ;; Nighttime wandering ;; Drinking ;; Fidgeting with her knives when anxious

    fears

    Dying or Winding Up Alone ;; Succumbing to Hunger ;; Losing Her Humanity ;; Betrayal By Those She Cares About ;; Her Sire ;; Being Unimportant to Others ;; Abandonment
  • favourites

    Sapphire or Lapis Lazuli Blue

    Roast Chicken

    Secretly...sea shanties

    An aged red wine

  Immortality doesn’t mean you’re forever young. It means you watch the world crumble, and you’ll be the one left picking up the pieces when the dust settles.

  personality

  
  Cordelia is a woman defined by an unwavering loyalty and an indomitable spirit. Few can claim to be as steadfast in their commitment, and even fewer could boast of the same willingness to fight alongside someone as she would. Her loyalty is not easily won, but once it's earned, it's as constant as the tides— no matter the distance or time. Cordelia doesn't speak often, preferring to listen, allowing others the space to share their thoughts. Her words are measured, reserved for moments when she has something of true weight to contribute. This quiet demeanor, however, should never be mistaken for indifference. Beneath her composed exterior lies a woman with deep convictions, and when those she cares for are threatened, her silence quickly gives way to a fierce, unstoppable resolve.
  
  As a fighter, Cordelia is relentless and terrifying. In the heat of battle, she unleashes a ferocity that few can match, her experience and skill honed over centuries of combat offer her a unique situation to truly master her craft. Whether she’s wielding a blade, aiming down sights with her pistols, or commanding a ship’s cannons, there is no hesitation in her actions—each move calculated. She has fought through storms both literal and metaphorical, and the bonds she has forged with those she considers close are heartily defended. Betrayal is not something Cordelia takes lightly, and any who would think to cross her or those she loves would soon learn the price of their mistake.
  
  Outside the battlefield, however, Cordelia can surprise those who take the time to truly know her. While she maintains a certain distance from others, preferring to keep her emotions under wraps, those who earn her trust find a woman capable of tender warmth and heart. She’s not one for grand gestures or loud proclamations, but she’s capable of moments of genuine kindness. It takes time, and patience, to reach that softer side of Cordelia, as she has been shaped by the pain of centuries, marked by loss and the isolation that comes with being a vampire but her heart is not as frozen as she would have one believe.
  
  The scars of her long life are not just physical—they run deep into her heart, a constant reminder of the loved ones she has outlived and the friends who have faded into dust. Her cynicism is a defense mechanism, the armor she wears against the relentless march of time and the people who inevitably come and go. Though she yearns for closeness and even the possibility of love, she has long since come to fear it. The fear of abandonment, of watching another person slip away, is a shadow that haunts her every step to try and pull her from her human needs. It is this vulnerability that she hides from the world, even as it quietly shapes her every interaction.
  
  Despite her hardened exterior, there are moments when Cordelia finds solace in the simplest of things—like the sound of a sea shanty drifting across the deck. She would never admit it aloud, of course, but the melodies speak to something deep inside her: the camaraderie, the unity that comes from a shared song, a moment of collective joy amidst the chaos of the world. It is in these moments of connection that Cordelia feels the reminder of her humanity, a small but crucial tether to the world she sometimes feels so detached from.
  
  A woman of contrasts: fierce yet vulnerable, distant yet capable of warmth, strong yet deeply scarred. She wears her armor not only to protect herself but to guard against the pain of ever having to lose again. And yet, despite her fears, despite reservations, there is a part of her that is still human in its hopes—hopes for loyalty, for love, and for family.
  
• Free from the Chains

  
  Cordelia Barrington was born in 1508, in the bustling port city of Bristol, England. She was the only child of Edmund Barrington, a successful merchant, and his wife, Charlotte. Edmund’s business was rooted in the import and export of fine silks, spices, and rare treasures from distant lands, while Charlotte focused on the finer things in life: social gatherings, proper etiquette, and the delicate art of managing their expansive estate while Edmund was away. To the outside world, the Barringtons seemed like any other wealthy family, but beneath the polished veneer of their life, there was always a sense of something restless in their precious daughter.
  
  From a very young age, Cordelia’s world was one of predetermined fates. Her mother encouraged her to learn music, poetry, and the intricacies of high society, but Cordelia had little patience for the refined hobbies of the privileged elite. Instead, her heart was drawn to the stories of distant lands and grand adventures that her father would recount when he returned from his travels. She was particularly fascinated by the sailors and soldiers who would visit their home, sharing tales of the dangerous seas and the art of combat as well as the strange and terrifying creatures that lurked in the waters.
  
  It was through these men that Cordelia first became aware of her natural affinity for weapons and combat. She would watch, wide-eyed, as they practiced their swordplay or demonstrated the workings of a musket with her mind soaking in all she saw there. At the age of ten, Cordelia convinced her father to hire a local fencing master to teach her the ways of the blade. Though her mother initially objected, fearing that a young lady should not spend her time with such "ungentlemanly" pursuits, her father saw Cordelia’s resolve and allowed it. By the time she was twelve, she was already a skilled fencer, capable of besting several of the young men in her father’s circle.
  
  As she grew older, Cordelia's talent for fighting and weaponry blossomed further. Her proficiency with both sword and musket made her a respected figure among the men who surrounded her. In an era where women were expected to remain passive and tend to the home, her fierce determination and sharp mind often led her to be underestimated—an oversight that worked to her advantage. She quickly learned the art of reading people, studying their movements, and discerning their intentions before they even spoke. This was a skill that would serve her well later in life.
  
  Despite her natural inclination towards combat and things unladylike, Cordelia’s life was not entirely defined by her sword or her curiosity for the world beyond. She was raised in the comforts of privilege, educated in the classics, and trained in the intricacies of etiquette. Yet, there was always a yearning in her heart, a longing to experience something more than the sheltered existence her parents envisioned for her or the stories of adventure told by another. By the time she turned sixteen, Cordelia began to feel the weight of the expectations placed upon her. Her mother spoke often of suitors, and her father pushed her to marry into a powerful family to strengthen their position. But Cordelia’s desire for freedom—freedom to explore the world, to make her own choices—clashed with the constraints of noble life. Despite wanting to do well by her parents who loved their only child with every fiber of their being, the girl could hardly deny her heart.
  
  At the age of eighteen, Cordelia found herself at a pivotal crossroads. The prospect of an arranged marriage and a life confined to the gilded cage of her family’s estate felt suffocating and yet the noose was slowly tightening. Her father, though loving, was pragmatic, and he had no patience for his daughter’s ambitions beyond what he deemed proper for a woman of her status– but Cordelia was no ordinary lady. She began to quietly resist her family’s plans for her, seeking out more dangerous and exhilarating pursuits, though always in secret.
  
  One of those pursuits was her growing interest in the art of gunnery and warfare. The idea of controlling the powerful cannons aboard a ship, of wielding the enormous weaponry that could change the course of battle, intrigued her far more than any needlework or ballroom dance. Cordelia’s natural aptitude for understanding complex mechanisms and her tactical mind soon led her to become a student of firearms and artillery. She devoured every book and manual she could find on the subject, and, when the opportunity arose, she sought out mentors among the veterans of England’s military campaigns and even supposed pirates. By her early twenties, Cordelia had become a highly skilled marksman and gunner, her reputation growing among those who valued her abilities rather than her status as a young woman.
  
  But fate, as it often does, intervened in a way she could never have anticipated. In the fall of 1534, when Cordelia was just twenty-six, a mysterious visitor arrived at the Barrington estate—a figure whose presence both intrigued and unsettled her. He was a man of strikingly handsome features, pale as moonlight, with a coldness to his demeanor that made her uneasy. His name was Victor, and he claimed to be an old acquaintance of her father…though Cordelia had never heard of him in Edmund’s stories. He arrived under the guise of business, seeking her father’s assistance with a matter of trade, but there was something about him that put Cordelia on edge.
  
  Over the next few days, Victor lingered in their home, always polite, always charming, but with a strange, predatory glint in his eyes. Cordelia, despite her growing suspicion, found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain-– in a way no suitor could ever manage themselves. She told him things she had never told anyone before. Victor made her feel safe…feel comfortable and she trusted him with matters kept close to her heart. Her father, a man of great caution, seemed to trust him as well and her mother appeared utterly enchanted by his dark charisma and appeal. But as time passed, Cordelia began to notice oddities—her parents seemed unnaturally pale, their movements sluggish, their spirits…drained.
  
  Something was terribly wrong.
  
  One night when Cordelia was alone in her chambers, she heard the distant sound of her mother’s scream. Rushing to her parents' suite, she burst through the door to find her father lying lifeless on the floor, his throat torn open and blood staining the bedsheets. Charlotte, too, was on the brink of death, pale and gasping for breath, her body drained of life and eyes quickly losing their light.
  
  Before she could react, the looming figure of Victor appeared in the doorway. With a cruel, almost indifferent smile, he stepped forward, revealing the terrible truth in his shockingly red eyes: he had not come for business, but for blood. He had come for them all. At that moment, Cordelia understood— Victor was not merely a man. He was a predator, a creature of the night.
  
  In the final moments of her parents’ lives, Cordelia tried to fight him off with every ounce of pain and grief behind her blows, but she was no match for Victor’s strength. Her mother and father perished in that room, victims of Victor’s greedy, insatiable hunger. Cordelia, her mind shattered by the loss, could do nothing as Victor turned to her, his gaze heavy with both pity and disdain.
  
  “I’ve seen the look in your eyes, Cordelia. That hunger for something more…for something that will make all of this life seem small by comparison. You desire a life free of the chains society binds you with…free from the shackles of your family’s expectations. I’m giving it to you. I have GIVEN it to you, darling. From now on, you will have eternity to do with as you please. But remember, nothing is ever truly free. You’ll owe me your loyalty. And if you ever forget that… well, I’ll remind you,” he whispered, before sinking his fangs into her neck.
  
  “In time, you’ll forget their faces. You’ll forget your name. All that will remain is the hunger. The thirst– this is the only way you can truly be free. Welcome to eternity, my dear.”
  
  What happened next was a blur—a burning sensation, an endless cold, and a deep, suffocating darkness. When Cordelia awoke, the world had shifted, and the very nature of her existence had been irrevocably changed.
  

  No Less Human

  
  When Cordelia first woke in the dark, the world felt different– it WAS different. The air was sharper, the sounds all around more vivid, the silence…oppressive. She had been given a gift—but a gift that felt more like a curse. Victor’s fangs, the ones that had drained her of life and replaced it with eternal hunger, still haunted her thoughts but what haunted her more was the absence of warmth. She was cold, empty, and she could feel the humanity slipping away from her like sand through her fingers.
  
  The first few nights after her transformation were a blur of disorientation. Cordelia was aware of her every sense, every instinct. She could hear every person’s heartbeat—slow, heavy, fast…all foreign and overwhelming. The hunger gnawed at her, a constant companion she could neither ignore nor fully satiate. At first, she had no control. She hunted in desperation and lashed out at whatever or whoever was nearby, unable to distinguish between predator and prey.
  
  Victor did nothing to guide her through these early days. He didn’t care to. He’d already won. Her blood was his, her soul bound to his will, and cruelly he left her to figure it out on her own. But she refused to surrender for it was the one thing she had left: her will to fight.
  
  Cordelia’s first real test of her humanity came within weeks of her transformation. She found herself in a small, isolated village on the outskirts of the Germanic forest. Her vampire instincts told her to drain the villagers dry, to feast on the blood of innocents without thought or mercy and bathe in their lost vitality. But something inside her rebuked the thought. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. The faces of her parents came to her—her mother’s laughter, her father’s warm smile. They had never been cruel or selfish, and Cordelia felt their judgment hanging over her as if they were watching, waiting for her to prove she wasn’t lost forever.
  
  One night, unable to quell the hunger any longer, she chose a different path after much deliberation. She would drink from a lone hunter, someone who lived on the fringes of society, someone who might not be missed. She felt the blood rush into her mouth, but she stopped herself, pulling away just as the man fell unconscious, leaving him alive and far from the brink of death. She didn’t kill him—didn’t let the beast inside her fully take over. Cordelia held on to her humanity, even if it meant enduring the searing agony of the hunger and the white hot burning in her throat that threatened to consume her.
  
  When Victor found out, he was furious.
  
  “You waste your strength, Cordelia– the strength that I GAVE you. You could have fed and gained power, but instead, you let that pitiful creature live. You dare make a mockery of my gift?”
  
  But her answer was simple, almost defiant: “I won’t become what you want me to be.”
  
  Victor’s cold laugh rang in her ears. “You think you can outrun what you are? There is no escape. You will learn, in time. You’ll see that mercy has no place in this world or you will break. I eagerly await, darling.”
  
  In the years following her transformation, Cordelia spent more and more time in isolation. The hunger was a constant battle, and there were days when she feared it would consume her completely. But she refused to become a mindless killer, and she began to develop methods to control her cravings. She practiced restraint; she learned to only feed when absolutely necessary, never letting herself succumb to the temptation of slaughter. She found that by focusing her energy on something else—training, combat, sharpening her mind—she could stave off the hunger, if only for a time.
  
  As the decades passed, Cordelia became an expert with a sword and a pistol, and though she was skilled in combat before, her vampiric nature gave her enhanced strength, speed, and resilience– she was a force to be reckoned with like a powerful hurricane. But no amount of training, of distraction, could silence the voice inside her.
  
  The one that reminded her she was no longer truly human.
  
  During a particularly dark period, Cordelia found herself in a nobleman’s court in France. The nobles were decadent, self-absorbed, and indulgent in their excesses but overall harmless. One night, she sat alone in the gardens, watching idly as a young woman and her lover shared a quiet, intimate moment under the moon and stars. The sight brought an unexpected pang to her chest, a sharp reminder of the life she had lost, and the life she could never have again. Was it worth it? she wondered.
  
  Was it worth living forever, if she could never truly live?
  
  For every step forward, Cordelia felt herself slip two steps back. The more time passed, the more distant she became from her humanity. The longer she lived, the more her old self—her compassion, her kindness—began to feel like a distant memory. It was as though her soul had been chipped away piece by piece left only with emptiness and the cold cackle of Victor’s laughter echoing in her mind. And yet still, there were moments of clarity, moments where she caught glimpses of the woman she used to be.
  
  When a small village in Italy was attacked by rogue vampires, Cordelia was caught in the middle of it after being stuck in a bloodless stupor. The rogues slaughtered the innocent, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake and destruction as their legacy. In the bleak chaos, Cordelia saw a child, no more than five or six, trying to run from the violence after witnessing their parents suffer at the hands, and fangs, of the vampires. Her eyes locked with the child’s, and something in Cordelia snaped. Without thinking, she rushed forward and protected the child from the rogues that attempted to snatch the youngling. Blows exchanged, blades sang through the air and blood was shed as she fought her way through the mindless thralls.
  
  When the battle was over and the child was officially safe, Cordelia had to walk away. She couldn’t stay in one place, couldn’t form attachments and so she left the child at a church. In that moment, she remembered what it meant to protect, to care. She wasn’t just a creature of the night or some mindless killer that selfishly indulged in the blood of mortals. She was Cordelia, daughter of Edmund and Charlotte Barrington, and she could still choose to fight for something better.
  
  Despite her inner strength and determination to hold on to the parts of her that were still human, Victor’s influence was never far. His words were poison, his gaze a constant reminder of what she had become. Even as she fought for autonomy, he constantly sought to remind her that she was his, and that she would never escape his pull.
  
  “You will never be free of me, Cordelia,” he said, the last time they spoke directly to each other. “I made you. I gave you this life. You’ll learn, in time, that no matter how far you run, no matter how hard you fight, you’ll always return to me. You’re mine, now and forever, darling.”
  
  It was a warning, but also a challenge—a reminder that the darkness within her was as much a part of her as the light she clung to. But Cordelia had learned one thing over the years: she was no one’s puppet.
  
  Despite the years of struggle, Cordelia never fully lost her humanity. It remained buried beneath layers of cynicism, scars, isolation, and the bloodlust that came with being a vampire, but it was still there. It was in her choices—the small, daily choices to resist her nature and fight for what was right, even when the odds were against her. It was in the way she still held onto the memory of her parents, and in the small acts of kindness she would show the rare person she felt safe enough to interact with.
  

  The Night Jewel

  
  By 1658, Cordelia had long since severed ties with Victor. The centuries had dulled the sharpness of his influence on her, and though she knew he would always be a shadow on the edge of her existence, she had managed to carve out a life far removed from him. She had seen enough of his manipulations, his power plays, and the endless circles of vampire politics to know that she would never allow herself to become the thing he wanted most: a thrall. She was no longer the naïve young woman who had been turned against her will. She was older, sharper, and wiser—and her freedom was something she would fight for until the end.
  
  After wandering Europe and the Americas for years, seeking purpose and escape from the dark weight of immortality, Cordelia found herself on the fringes of the Caribbean in the early 1650s. The allure of the sea had always called to her, and in the tangled world of pirates and privateers, she saw a new horizon—one where she could fight for her own cause, far away from the shadow of vampires, Victor’s loyalists, and crowded towns.
  
  Her reputation as a weapons expert and master gunner had spread quickly among the various factions of the high seas, but she wasn’t interested in joining just any crew; she had no taste for petty squabbles or backstabbing captains. She needed to find something different, something that would allow her to still wield the power she had grown accustomed to while keeping her soul intact for many desired power at the cost of everything and everyone around them. No, Cordelia was much more discerning than that.
  
  Then she heard whispers of The Night Jewel.
  A ship with a female captain at the helm.
  
  For Cordelia, this was intriguing in itself. Female captains were as rare as they were dangerous in the world of piracy, and something about the idea called to her. The strings of Fate were being tugged and pulled once more.
  
  It didn’t take long for Cordelia to prove her worth to the captain and crew. A few skirmishes, a couple of well-placed shots that felt more like precognition than anything else, and an undeniable mastery of the ship’s cannons sealed her place aboard the ship. She was efficient, pragmatic, and relentless in battle. But what really earned her respect was her quiet loyalty. She was no longer the woman who sought to prove herself, no longer fighting to escape the weight of her past. She fought now because she had a purpose again.
  
  Amidst the rough-and-tumble world of piracy, Cordelia found a strange sense of camaraderie aboard The Night Jewel. She had long since abandoned the hope of finding true connection in this dark, eternal life, but she found something she hadn’t expected: a family, even if that family was forged from blood and saltwater.
  
  For the first time in years, she allowed herself to care, if only a little.
  
  Her past would never truly be behind her, and the shadows of Victor’s influence still lingered in the darkest corners of her soul. But aboard The Night Jewel, Cordelia Barrington found something resembling peace…however fleeting.
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coded by natasha.

 

[lillymity]

ARAMIS LORCANO

#SURGEON

#Michiel Huisman

♡coded by uxie♡

Nicknames: Ari, Ramsey,

Age: 30

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: bisexual, biromantic

Species: human



Human Form Description:
Aramis is a pretty tall, buff guy. He’s about six foot tall with strong arms that can handle a lot of enemies. His dark wavy hair is mostly pushed back, especially since he let it grow out a bit after leaving the kingdom. Though when the sun shines on the dark brown strands, there are sometimes some lighter strands shining through. Despite fighting a lot in his past, Aramis has soft gentle hands that treat every injury very carefully. His brown eyes are almost as dark as coffee.

Birthday:
13th january 1628, middle of the kingdom of France

Body Modifications / Scars:
Aramis has a lot of smaller scars from fighting on his arms. But there are also two main big ones, one across his leg and the other across his ribcage. Both from the same battle. Aramis also has a little tattoo on his collarbone with the royal emblem but of course now he tries to hide it as much as he can.

Personality:
Even though Aramis looks pretty serious and grumpy, he is actually fun to be around if you get to know him more. To his crew, he is a very kind-hearted guy, that likes to help and would always be loyal to them. Aramis is always up for a good joke, he always has that kind of humor around him. But he also can be pretty sassy and sarcastic, especially with enemies or people, who don’t take him seriously.



Role Amongst The Crew:
The surgeon

Strengths:
~close combat
~great knowledge of different herbs and plants
~fantastic surgical skills
~braiding hair

Weaknesses:
~reading maps
~cooking
~very bad sense of direction
~singing

How Long Have They Been With The Crew?
3 and a half years

History / Backstory:
For his whole life Aramis had been a part of the royal guard, fighting for the king and taking missions from him. His last mission took him and his best friends out to another kingdom, where they had to fight to get the jewelry from the queen back. Eventually they won, but Aramis got hurt severely. He almost didn’t make it back on his horse.
After his recovery, he was left with permanent damage on his leg, not so bad that he can’t walk anymore but he would need a little time to get as fast as before in fighting.
For the king that was ‘a shame’ — like he said — and he kicked him not only out of the royal guard but also forced him out of the kingdom. He had to flee.
To plan his next steps, Aramis went into a tavern and that’s where he met the crew — Dorienne injured. As Aramis was always the one to treat all the wounds, however bad they were, he wanted to help. With as little things as they had in the tavern, he succeeded in treating the wound properly.
With that fate planned his future, he got invited to join the crew, they needed someone who knew their craft and to make work with as little as possible.

Weaponry:
his royal sword, he stole from them, when he had to go, though you can’t really see the royal emblem anymore because it’s worn off from fighting, the only things that make it interesting and perhaps suspicious are the hilt covered in little red and blue gemstones and the blade being silver with a golden stripe in the middle on both sides
beside that on occasion a small dagger or two



Likes:
well seasoned food, sunsets, quiet nights

Dislikes:
forests, cold weather, sand,

Habits:
tapping his fingers when nervous, raising his eyebrow or tilts his head when he doesn’t understand something

Fears:
heights, his old life catching up to him



Aroma:
citrus with a faint tint of the last herbs he used

Faceclaim/Voiceclaim:
Michiel Huisman

Headcanons:
~when tired or still sleepy he has a pretty strong french accent, barely understandable for someone that doesn’t know him for too long
~gets affected by the weather (when weather changes, his leg injury still hurts a bit)
~can be a little moody if he had a bad night
~he is quite a flirty guy and can mostly get things he want with his charme
~still has nightmares from his old life
~only turning around once, he wouldn’t know where he came from and where he has to go anymore
~definitely not a morning person
~lightweight in terms of alcohol​

 

[krasous]

I know that there's a way do it looking good as the above but I don't know how.

Full Name - Gregory Acheropos Bisney

Nicknames - "Do Less"

Age - 32

Gender - Name

Pronouns - Avast/Me/Maties/Yarrrr/There'she blows!

Sexuality - THE SEA!

-------------------------------

Species - Human

True Form Description - Tall, built like a brickhouse, not too shabby, red headed, BEAR OF A MAN

Powers and Abilites - 7 YEARS OF GOOD LUCK IN THE SEAS (he is just lucky)

Human Form Description - Tall, built like a brickhouse, not too shabby, red headed, BEAR OF A MAN

Birthday - 33rd of February, Suntueswensday, 1626, in a magical island in colonial Micronesia

Body Modifications / Scars - A tattoo of a seahorse holding a mermaid on his back. A tatto of a mermaid holding an accordeon in his chest.

Personality - A jovial mountain. Makes fun of eveyrthing. Goes dark serious when he has something important to say in the click of a second.

-------------------------------

Role Amongst The Crew - Cook or gunner

Strengths and Weaknesses - Very communicative fellow, can also make a meal out of sand and a bottle of sunshine. He is very, extremely, unequivocally bad at keeping secrets under any weather, despite his personality pointing towards the complete opposite. He is a mediocre fighter at best.

How Long Have They Been With The Crew? - No idea.

History / Backstory - He was picked up from his magical island by a courageous French privateer. Everyone was gone, the man even known for his bravery ordered his crew to rush back to the ship. The island was completely empty, eerie to their mortal eyes and hunted by spirits, both old and new.

Gregory took the name Bisney, as the captain raised him as his own. He frequented the ports of India and Africa besides him . He even travelled to the mainland. On their last trip together, Captain Bisney offered him a place by his side. The lad accepted the position with glee. But those where the days of summer. On their following voyage the ship creaked one night. As Gregory rose up he spoted the intruders, swords at hand taking out the lonely guard. They were off Mauritius, on their way to the Indies once more. That was the last time he show his captain. Their ship was lost to pirates and him and his mates were left to drift on a single boat in the open seas. A week later, and with his brave attempts to prepare any mean with just pieces of glass for cooking and seaweed to munch, the crew was rescued by a passing Dutch vessel.

The survivors drifted off but Gregory joined with the colonial guard at the Dutch West Indies Company. He stayed there as a battalion cook for many years until joining with his new crew after longing for the sea once more.

Weaponry - A lond-barreled pistol. Plenty of cleavers and cooking knives. A meat tenderizer which acts as a lofty mace.

-------------------------------

Likes - The sea. Metropolitan cities. Meeting new and strange people.

Dislikes - Cuthroats. There's nothing wrong with piracy but wanton cruelty, he cannot abide by.

Habits - His work mainly. Very meticulous with supplies. Plays the accordeon in his free time. Fishes during windless nights when the ship barelly moves. Great oyster collector.

Fears - Whatever cannot be touched by human hands. The aetherial spirits frighten him to the bone. Also very large cats, he finds them abnormal. Dogs are big, what in the seven hells is even a tiger! Did somebody overfeed his cat for Pete's sake!

-------------------------------

Aroma - Bacon, biscuits and lard on the morning. Cloves, peppercorns and licorice in the afternoons.

Faceclaim - idk what that is

Voiceclaim - neither this

Headcanons - the island he was born in was his mother. He is a magic child. And there's a living island out there looking for him.

 

[SavannahSmiles]

_{{The MISC section has a hidden scroll, there is more info under the four images}}​

* the newbie

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  Anglerfish Siren

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  * full name

  Sereia Tempest
  

  * age

  20
  

  * d.o.b

  July 7th, 1638 | Born in a cave off of some unamed islands
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  female

  
  
  
  
  

  she/her

  
  
  
  
  

  panromantic pansexual

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  * height

  Human ~ 4'11" | 150 cm
  True Form ~ 5'5" in length
  

  * weight

  Human ~ 100 lbs | 45 kg
  True Form ~ 115 lbs
  

  * hair

  Long curls that tumble towards her waist, ash blonde in color though in certain lighting it will take on a pale golden hue. Most days Sereia will wear her hair loose with small braided sections on either side of her temples that is secured at the back of her head or she will braid it to the side with some loose pieces framing her heart-shaped face.
  

  * eyes

  Forest Green
  

  * true form

  The pupils of her green eyes turn slitted and her teeth sharpen into serrated points. Her nails grow into sharp claws and her legs merge into a glowing tail {pictured to the left}. The glowing marks on her tail aid her in the deep, allowing her to lure fish close enough to snatch up. She has also used her glowing colors to warn sailors away from areas where sirens lurked, the bright red cutting through the dark waters enough to be seen and the warning heeded.
  

  * powers / abilities

  She is able to change the color that is displayed along her tail and fins. She can shift between her human form and siren form at will. Though she doesn't use it often, she has the same siren song that captivates all those who hear it. She is also resilient to the cold, having grown up in the depths of the ocean where sunlight was scarce. Due to the weak light source down there, Sereia is able to see in the dark or low lighting.
  

  * aroma

  Coconut and Sea Salt
  

  * build

  Slender and lithe, Sereia has delicate curves and a slightly toned frame from her years of living in the ocean.
  

  * scars

  She has nicks in her fins from surviving on her own in the ocean. A deep scar runs down the left side of her tail from a fight with another siren; in her human form the scar runs from her knee to her ankle.
  

  * body mods

  None but she wants a tattoo like she has seen on humans
  

  * faceclaim/voiceclaim

  Freya Allan from her role as Ciri in the Witcher Netflix series.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  pers.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  likes

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  the ocean

  
  
  
  

  seashells

  
  
  
  

  shiny things

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  dislikes

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  nets

  
  
  
  

  large crowds

  
  
  
  

  spicy foods

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  fears

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  true form being discovered

  
  
  
  

  fire

  
  
  
  

  small spaces

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * personality

  Sereia has an adventurous spirit, following her curiosity wherever it leads her. She often spent her time exploring ship wrecks to see what shiny treasures she could find or spying on humans aboard their ships.
  
  Her friends are the most important people in her life and she would do anything to protect them. Sereia is very protective towards her those she cares for, but because of this, she can be a bit reckless at times in her desire to keep her loved ones safe.
  
  Spying on the humans has taught her how to observe her surroundings but most importantly, how to be patient. Sometimes she would spend hours observing a ship, being careful not to be seen.
  
  Sereia can be rather stubborn if the mood strikes her and she does not appreciate others trying to dictate what she can and can not do with her life.
  
  

  * strengths

  Quick on her feet | Agile on land and in the water | Deadly in the water | Climbing | Sneaking around
  
  

  * weaknesses

  Hand to hand combat | Anything requiring strength in her human form | Can't read or write
  
  

  * habits

  ➳ Scrunches her nose up when she is confused about something
  ➳ Gravitates towards anything shiny or pretty
  ➳ Hunches over her food and barricades' it with her arms as if she's afraid someone is going to steal it
  ➳ Will bite someone if they try and take her food
  ➳ Hisses when she is displeased or mad
  ➳ Does not sit on furniture the way it is intended: Drapes herself across armchairs, sits backwards in chairs, etc
  ➳ Fidgets with things like her hair whenever she is nervous
  ➳ Wraps her arms around herself to self-sooth
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  hist.

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  sereia says . . .

  
  

  
  

  ❝

  
  

  you don't drown by falling into the water; you drown by staying there.

  
  

  ❞

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * history

  From the moment she had been born, Sereia's entire existence had always been a fight for survival. Born the weakest amongst her siblings, it was always a fight for food or space. Until one day her mother took her out far from the cave they called home and left her on a bed of seaweed. Whether she survived or was eaten by another predator, she was no longer welcome back to the cave. Luckily a coral reef was nearby and Sereia survived off of the slower moving fish that lived there.
  
  With no one to teach her how to survive, Sereia had to figure it all out on her own. She never craved the flesh of humans like some of her kind did, in fact her first run-in with humans left her terrified. She had been hunting for clams when a large shadow covered the sandy floor, blocking out the light from above. She hid in the cave she had claimed until she was certain it wasn't a huge beast coming to eat her.
  
  She viewed their ships from a distance, at first, but the music that carried over the waves eventually drew her closer. She just couldn't understand why the other sirens chose to eat these beings when keeping them alive was far more interesting. From then on she decided she would help these humans whenever she could, a decision that only turned the other sirens in the area on her.
  
  Often times she would use the colors on her tail to warn humans away from areas populated with sirens waiting for a meal, other times she would swim humans affected by the songs back to their ships and if a necklace or shiny piece of jewellery went missing from their person, well, she considered it payment for saving their life.
  
  The humans, dazed by the song, never remembered her clearly and she never stuck around long enough to leave an impression. Until one day a rescue mission went belly up. In her endeavor to steer a ship away from siren infested waters, she had gotten too close and had gotten tangled in a net. The poor sailor (possibly someone's character if any are interested) sent to untangle the mess was given a fright as they caught sight of shining green eyes staring back at them. Scared but determined to save them from a gruesome fate, Sereia used the language she had picked up from spending so much time near ships to whisper a warning about the danger that laid ahead.
  
  She had slipped free of the net and was splashing back into the water before she could hear the humans reply. After that came a nasty fight with a siren that had Sereia fleeing to land. If she couldn't keep the humans safe from the water, then maybe she could do it on land.
  
  Joining the crew of The Night Jewel was an unexpected but welcome surprise and she has been with the crew for a couple of weeks now.
  

  
  
  
  
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  misc.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * how long have they been with the crew?

  A couple of weeks
  
  

  * weaponry

  Twin daggers she liberated (stole) from some poor man who had been passed out drunk. What can she say, the jewels inlaid into the hilts were too shiny to pass up. In her siren form, her claws and teeth are all she needs.
  
  

  * headcanons

  ➳ Hide your shiny things, otherwise they may end up in her pocket
  ➳ Love language is physical touch, most definitely touch-starved
  ➳ Will laugh in your face as you try to kill her
  ➳ Terrible to share the same bed with, tends to cling to whoever has the unfortunate circumstances of having to sleep in close quarters to her
  ➳ Don't let her near the kitchen, she would somehow burn water
  ➳ Doesn't need human food to survive but can absolutely be bribed with anything sweet
  
  

  * extra

  Pinterest Board | Themesong
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

req.

pers.

hist.

misc.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Hvnny-Bvns0]

* Suevyn Morrissey

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  #musician

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  * n.name(s)

  Sue, Vyn, Vinny
  

  * d.o.b.

  May 28, 1635
  

  * age

  23
  

  * p.o.b.

  Queen’s County (County Laois), Ireland
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #female

  
  
  
  
  

  #gemini

  
  
  
  
  

  #she/they

  
  
  
  
  

  #bisexual lesbian

  
  
  
  
  

  #selkie

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  * height

  5’5”
  

  * weight

  129 lbs
  

  * build

  Slim, triangle shaped with slight muscle in her arms and legs—the kind that come with being an avid swimmer and dancer.
  

  * hair colour

  Black, with hints of the darkest blue in direct sunlight.
  

  * eye colour

  Silvery blue, like the moon reflected off of calm waters.
  

  * true form

  As a selkie, Suevyn’s “true form” is her seal skin, which that of a harp seal. It is a stony; silver-ish gray, blotted with dark gray spots. The largest one covers the nose, going down to the stomach before trailing off. As well, its eyebrows and eyes are shadowed in the same shade of dark gray.
  

  * human form

  In human form, Suevyn is a pale woman with dark, wavy hair. Her hair is very soft, reaching just past her shoulders with bangs that barely touch her eyebrows, which curtain off into the rest of her hair. Her eyes are shiny and silvery blue, like the moon on clear water. She has a triangle body shape, with the slightest trace of muscle on her arms and legs—the kind that comes with being an avid swimmer and dancer. On her right shoulder is a small scar, one she’s had since she was a child.
  

  * abilities

  When in seal form, Suevyn is essentially a seal with human thoughts. As a human, she can eat raw fish caught immediately from the ocean without getting sick, and as a selkie, was gifted beauty she displays even after waking up from a slumber.
  

  * weapon

  Her weapon of choice is a cutlass—easy to fight at a distance, and the ones that she uses are rather light.
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  pers.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  likes

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #music

  
  
  
  

  #ocean

  
  
  
  

  #nighttime

  
  
  
  

  #performing

  
  
  
  

  #roses

  
  
  
  

  #precious gems & stones

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  dislikes

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #physical labor

  
  
  
  

  #warm weather

  
  
  
  

  #small talk

  
  
  
  

  #dogs

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  strengths

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #music

  
  
  
  

  #dancing

  
  
  
  

  #poetry

  
  
  
  

  #cooking

  
  
  
  

  #sewing

  
  
  
  

  #jewlery making

  
  
  
  

  #stamina

  
  
  
  

  #swimming

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  weaknesses

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #physical strength

  
  
  
  

  #painting

  
  
  
  

  #knitting

  
  
  
  

  #pottery

  
  
  
  

  #chess

  
  
  
  

  #repair work

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  fears

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #blood/gore

  
  
  
  

  #loss

  
  
  
  

  #wasps

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * personality

  
  Insightful
  Perceptive
  Quiet
  Curious
  Adventurous
  Whimsical
  
  Timid
  Nosey
  Clumsy
  Secretive
  Aloof
  
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  hist.

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  #sour switchblade—elita

  
  

  
  

  ❝

  
  

  i want to talk to you; about the things we could do; is it really you; or is it déjà vu

  
  

  ❞

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * history

  Suevyn and her parents fled Ireland in 1643, in order to escape the carnage of civil war. They survived as traveling merchants, who mostly got around by boat. At 16, Suevyn left, and subsequently lived as a musician for the next three years. At nineteen, she was married to a man she had barely met, one who she liked yet only realized months later that she did not love. Not feeling emotionally attached, Suevyn began to drift from him. He had never wronged her, though he ignored her wants, and the two argued daily. At twenty two, she left with her seal suit and a bag of clothing, her violin, and five pieces of sheet music. She took a job at a bar in the same county, one her ex husband often tried to visit her at. Despite her abrupt leave, he harbored no ill will, though he never truly forgave her. She was happy, working at the bar- though meeting the crew there made her realize just how unhappy she truly was by settling for a life of simplicity. With few connections and even fewer responsibilities to sever, she joined the Night Jewel within a week. As of two weeks ago, she has been with the crew for exactly a year and a half.
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  misc.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * aroma

  Suevyn always smells faintly of the ocean, no matter how long she’s spent away from it.
  
  

  * face & voiceclaim

  Emma Harvey, aka Elita
  
  

  * habits

  Every night before sleeping, Suevyn has to play a song on her violin. It’s a melody unheard before, though she refuses to disclose who wrote it.
  
  When nervous, Suevyn will play with the necklace of pearls she refuses to take off unless sleeping.
  
  
  

  * headcanons

  
  Suevyn doesn’t fear death, she only fears the pain.
  
  Her first true love was a woman she worked with at the bar, though she refuses to say her name
  
  Shows love through gifts: anything from a diamond to a dead fish.
  
  Very quiet and cryptic, an inclination for and willingness to understand the macabre must be had to make friends with her.
  
  

  * playlist

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

req.

pers.

hist.

misc.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[NewbiePotterhead]

* MARGARITA ESPINOSA

• 1ai
• 2ai
• 3ai
• 4ai

• 
  
  

  
  
  
  

  req.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  #she/her

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  * n.name(s)

  Rita, Miss Rita
  

  * d.o.b.

  June 3rd, 1630
  

  * p.o.b.

  Seville, Spain
  

  * age

  28
  

  * species

  Human
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #female

  
  
  
  
  

  #gemini

  
  
  
  
  

  #hetero

  
  
  
  
  

  #seamstress

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  * height

  160 cm / 5'2"
  

  * weight

  50kg / 110 lbs
  

  * build

  As the offspring of a merchant in Seville, Rita was expected to fit in with the higher society around her. A thin, long frame was desired, as well as the smallest waist possible to fit inside of an impossibly small corset. Of course, after a few years out on the sea, Rita's waist is not longer as slim as it once was, but her petite stature immitating that of more powerful noblewomen still stays.
  

  * body modifications

  Following latest aristocratic trends, Rita has both of her earlobes fashionably pierced and bedazzled with earrings. However, she found the pain so unbearable that she refuses to get pierced another time.
  

  * hair colour

  Rita's hair is a warm-toned brown which, when hit by the sun, reflects a golden hue. It is often styled in looser curls or up, but never straight.
  

  * eye colour

  Her eyes are as unimpressive as her hair, as her father would have said. While her eyes are also a warm-toned brown, they reflect closer to a honey-like colour when the sun shines on her face just right.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  pers.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  likes

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #bright colours

  
  
  
  

  #oranges

  
  
  
  

  #fashion

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  dislikes

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #seasickness

  
  
  
  

  #dead atmospheres

  
  
  
  

  #being restricted

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  fears

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #falling overboard

  
  
  
  

  #heights

  
  
  
  

  #being found by her family

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  habits

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #losing focus

  
  
  
  

  #picking at her skin

  
  
  
  

  #stress sewing

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * personality

  Four years ago, Rita would have been the complete opposite of who she was today. Once shy, demure and conscious of her actions reflecting a 'bigger entity,' she is today a warm, friendly and opening presence on the ship. Always jovial and ready to drink with her crewmates, Rita has found herself much more at ease on the welcoming atmosphere of The Night Jewel, and has let go of the archaic ways she used to hold as a merchant's daughter. If offered a drink, she will not refuse, and while she may have a hard time dealing with the hangover the morning after, she is not afraid to enjoy the conviviality with her peers. She might get more honest and upfront once under the influence however, and might come to regret her forwardness the morning after. Some things don't change, after all, and going from a total prude and ignorant lamb to an adventurer takes times.
  
  No person would be complete without flaws however, and Rita has many. For as warm as she is with others, she is very harsh on herself, and often times gets into foul moods before locking herself away in a room to have a meltdown. Sometimes, it's existential dread; other times, it's waves of extreme melancholy over having lost everybody in her last life and coming on the ship. She never regrets coming, of course, since the freedom she experiences is liberating and welcoming, but it gets overbearing sometimes, and Rita prefers to go through it alone. After all, she only introduced herself as 'Rita' to the crew, and not 'Margarita, the daughter of a wealthy merchant with many expectations'. She felt fundamentally different from them, and sometimes felt isolated by this divide.
  
  On those nights where her melancholy overtakes her rationality, Rita is afraid. She is afraid of going out, facing the world and deciding nothing is worth it anymore, before jumping out of the ship and putting an end to this. To counter these horrific thoughts, she locks herself in her room and drinks until dawn: for the nerves and for the chance to calm down before the crew starts their day. It might be the only repose she gets when she begins to get overwhelmed.
  
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  hist.

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  #rita says . . .

  
  

  
  

  ❝

  
  

  I used to dream a lot when I was younger. My dreams are fickle now.

  
  

  ❞

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * history

  Born in Seville in 1630 to a merchant family, Rita has been expected, all of her life, to lead the pious yet ambitious life of a woman trying to climb social order. Being part of the lower nobility, and even then barely, she underwent harsh treatment and behaviour by her tutors, her servants and even her family. She does remember that, at one point, she was happy--but she would be unable to tell you when and where this specific point in time was. From the moment she bled to the moment she grew, she was stuffed into tight corsets, restrictive diets and a pile of knowledge fit for a lady of the household. It didn't help that her brothers, while not actively tormenting her themselves, were living an easier and freer life which only made her jealous.
  
  Her only respite was that she hadn't been forced to marry. Usually, it wouldn't be too long before a woman debuted and was swept off of the market, but Rita had gotten extremely lucky to avoid the fate of a married woman. She lived with her parents in her family home until the age of 24, where it seemed they had gotten enough of her and sold her off to the highest bidder. Being considered an older bachelorette, but still rich, whatever romantic prospects offered themselves to her were absolutely horrifying, and Rita fought against being pulled out of her home and into the arms of a new 'husband' very hard. Mere moments after seeing the man she would be spending the rest of her life with face to face, she decided life would not be worth living if she was stuck as an unhappy woman, and seized the opportunity to run away.
  
  A young woman in a big dress running across a city would always be cause for concern, and many passerby attempted to stop her or restrain her, but her will to live was stronger. Life on land had disappointed her, and so, she ran as far away from the land as she could--the docks being the last place she could go. Feeling the pressure of people running after her, Rita took a quick glance at the ships docked and, deciding one with a female-presenting person was where she ought to be, quickly climbed into The Night Jewel, hoisting her dress up with her hands, before hiding in the underside of the boat.
  
  She stayed glued in fear with the rest of the crates for a week. Rita didn't come out, didn't eat, and didn't drink. The moment the ship had left the docks, she was absolutely terrified of what she had done--but she had no plans of going back. Perhaps she should have just asked the captain to board, but she had no money to her name and no skills she could use. She just had to stay calm and quiet, and come off at the next stop. But then what would she do? Would she just sell herself to another prospective husband in a foreign city? The thought was even more tantalizing. Having been at the bottom of the ship, Rita had found things to pass the time, and had fashioned functional rags out of rough cloth and scraps which would be thrown out to wash herself.
  
  She had to look presentable to the captain, after all, and an unwashed, unkempt woman at the bottom of the ship was already not a good look. Unfortunately, it seems her scurrying about and picking at items to make herself new things had caught the attention of those running the cellar--who had told the captain--and Rita was caught mid-sewing a new garment by the woman she knows today as her saviour, 'Dori.' Instead of throwing her overboard, the captain found a new use for the stowaway which had run away from her life, and while Rita had once been uncertain about it (and even frightened), she quickly got used to the pirate life as the tailor and mender of sails.
  
  She never got over the seasickness though.
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  misc.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  * family

  a family of Sevillian merchants consisting of a father, a mother, an older brother and a younger brother. Rita has kept contact with none of them.
  
  

  * weaponry

  A rapier she affectionately calls 'Needle.'
  
  

  * face claim

  Rose Williams
  
  

  * voice claim

  Paz Vega
  
  

  * how long has she been with the crew

  Almost 4 years now
  
  

  * aroma

  Rita makes her own blend of oranges and cinnamon as a makeshift perfume/body mist, as she'd experienced the smell earlier in her life thanks to a travelling merchant who knew her father and fell in love with the warmness of the scent. If it smells like a warm treat ready to eat, it was probably just Rita passing by.
  
  

  * strengths

  
  Sewing/Mending.
  Dancing.
  Reciting poetry from the top of her head.
  
  

  * weaknesses

  
  Anything involving physical labour.
  Cooking.
  Handsome men.
  
  

  * headcanons

  
  
  Rita's first projects when coming on the ship consisted of repurposing bags of potatoes, flour and other raw material to fashion sails and other useful items the crew was missing.
  
  She is a tad dependent on alcohol depending on the evening which is why she is so eager to revell in parties and entertainment at night. If she's chosen to sleep instead, there's a 50/50 percent chance that she will wake up because of a nightmare, and simply not sleep until the sun rises.
  
  Rita jokes about coming onto the ship after having seen Bastien and his wonderful sense of style.
  
  Is desperate to create a bright, fashionably-inclined outfit which is mobile and sea-worthy, yet lacks the inspiration to do so.
  
  Due to her proficiency with a needle and her steady hands, Rita often helps the surgeons of the ships in emergencies and crises as a nurse, and will spend more time with them during regular hours due to her sharing a bit of the workload. She also makes sure they are provided with enough cloth for bandaging and higher quality protective garb to protect their regular clothes.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

req.

pers.

hist.

misc.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ocie]

Full Name:
Sascha

Nicknames:
TBA

Age:
25

Gender:
Male

Pronouns:
He/him

Sexuality:
Pansexual, panromantic

-------------------------------------
Species:
Eel Merman

True Form Description:
In his true form, Sascha has the torso of a human and the bottom half a fish tail with the calico black and army green patterning of an eel. He has fins along his forearms and his ears are fins as well. There are patches of scales across his torso, arms, and face. His hair is the same as his human form—black, medium length and curly. His eyes are the same too, a deep brown.

Powers And Abilities:
- Electrokinesis; can physically generate small bursts of electricity as well as physically stabilize, redirect or amplify electrical currents
- Singing; he doesn't have siren's voice or anything but it is beautiful with an otherworldly tone
- Ability to hold his breath for long periods of time in his human form
- Heightened sense of smell

Human Form Description:
Sascha stands at 5’11” and has a lean build. His black hair is curly and falls just past his ears, and his eyes are a dark brown. He still has patches of dark green scales on the side of his face and across his body as well as sharper tipped ears that bear the same scales. His attire is that of a normal pirate, complete with loose white shirts, boots, bandanas, earrings, etc. He has golden bands around his forearms and a necklace with an obsidian pendant around his neck at all times.

Birthday -
September 18, 1633, the Mediterranean sea

Body Modifications / Scars:
- Various nicks and small scars over his body from his time as a pirate and just from hard living
- A noticeable burn scar on his left shoulder, reaching his upper arm and back. It’s visible poking out from the collar of most of his shirts too
- Gold hoop earrings in both ears

Personality:

There's something about Sascha that makes people feel at ease around him. His carefree attitude is magnetic and he's always quick with a joke or simple comment that can lighten even the tensest situations. He has a distinctly unthreatening air about him that makes him rather likeable and easy to get along with, but he can turn cold and protective with a snap of the fingers if he needs to.

Despite his apparent openness, at heart, Sascha is highly guarded and slow to trust others. He doesn’t talk about certain parts of himself or his past and will smoothly redirect the conversation if asked about it—subtly enough that most people don’t notice. Sascha is quick to smile and seems careless, but he is deceptively sharp-witted and more than willing to lie and cheat to get what he wants. He knows that the key to being smart is knowing when to play dumb. He has partaken in his fair share of petty theft and his moral compass leaves something to be desired. He's been compared to an eel, much to his irritation (I'm not like an eel, I am one, fucker).

At one time, Sascha was curious about the surface; naive and adventurous. He isn’t anymore, to say the least. Jaded and mistreated, finding ways to to scrape by and survive on land has changed him, for better or for worse. He’s always been deeply unhappy in his human form, but he’s making the best of it and does a decent job of pretending it doesn't bother him. There's a bit of a cynical edge to him that can feel jarring given how carefree he seems, like a crack appearing in a mask.

Role Amongst The Crew:
Musician/Lookout

Strengths:
- Smooth talk; he’s skilled at bluffing his way out of situations. People generally tend to trust him and he takes full advantage of it.
- Marksmanship: Sascha is an incredibly good shot
- Navigation: Sascha always knows where he is at sea. He can read stars and currents intuitively and he rarely loses his bearings

Weaknesses:
- He can fight. A little. Not well. He prefers to slip away unnoticed or perform ranged attacks. He's a lover not a fighter.
- Can't navigate on land or read a map to save his life, or read human languages in general

How Long Have They Been With The Crew?
A few years.

History / Backstory:
Sascha doesn’t talk much about his past, but he has gold bands around his wrists that bind him in his human form against his will. He spent years searching for a way to break the spell before hitting rock bottom and begrudgingly accepting that he will be living on land indefinitely. He became a pirate to be closer to the sea. The life also suits him well.

Weaponry:
- Flintlock pistol
- Scimitar he stole
- Throwing knives

----------------------------------------

Likes:
The ocean, gambling, playing cards… cheating at cards… starry nights, fruits, cool looking rocks, playing music, listening to music, anything about it. Socks; he was always fascinated by the concept as a child and he still thinks they’re really neat little gloves for feet. Rain; it’s the closest he can comfortably get to being underwater.

Dislikes:
Cooked fish; it’s dry as fuck in his opinion and he’ll only eat seafood raw, bread in particular he hates, sunny days/sun burns, big human cities.

Habits:
- Hums to himself when he’s bored or focused on something
- Fidgets or plays with his necklace often, out of nervousness or just absently sometimes
- TBA

Fears:
- Swimming, oddly enough. Sascha never learnt how to swim in a human body and almost drowned the last time he tried to, not realizing he couldn’t breathe underwater anymore. He’s never felt that way before—air burning in his lungs, panic coursing through his veins. He’s just a little (lot) terrified of it.
- Humans; Sascha is still wary of all of them, never letting his guard down, even if he does an impressive job of appearing at ease. It takes time and a lot of proof for him to trust a human or consider them a close friend. He’s more comfortable around other merfolk or non-human creatures like himself.
- Fire; he never encountered it underwater, understandably, and was always afraid of it since coming on land. He’s had negative experiences as well. He can suck it up well enough on board with cannon fire and torches but he avoids it if possible.

Aroma:
Sea salt and sandelwood

Face & Voiceclaim:
Robert Sheehan​

 

[Axty]

Full Name: Archibald Aziz

Nicknames: Archie/Azi

Age - 22

Gender - Male

Pronouns - He/Him

Sexuality - Straight

-------------------------------

Species - Vampire

True Form Description - Archie transforms into a majestic eagle with sleek, jet-black feathers that gleam in the light. His eyes shift into a striking crimson red, radiating an intense, almost otherworldly gaze. The contrast of his dark plumage with the vivid red of his eyes creates a powerful and intimidating presence, embodying both elegance and ferocity.

Powers and Abilites - In this form, Archie gains the ability to soar through the skies with ease. His powerful wings grant him incredible endurance, allowing him to remain aloft for long periods. This makes him an exceptional scout, well-suited for his duties as a vigilant lookout, effortlessly patrolling vast areas from above while keeping a keen eye on his surroundings.

Human Form Description - Standing at a relatively tall 5'10", Archie has an athletic yet slightly lean build that highlights his agility. His physique is defined by a slim frame that accentuates his broader shoulders, giving him a balanced and strong appearance, blending speed with power.

Birthday - May 21st, 1636 (Born somewhere in the Middle East)

Body Modifications / Scars - Though he has some minor scars across his hands from training with a sword, the most notable marking he has is two slash marks in the shape of an X across his upper back

Personality -
Archie is often seen as an unserious, light-hearted presence among the crew. When reprimanded, he typically brushes off the criticism, either ignoring it altogether or responding with a casual remark. His mood varies day to day—some days he might be quiet and reserved, while on others, he's quick to add a witty quip or sarcastic comment to the conversation. However, when the situation turns dire and either he or his crewmates are in danger, his demeanor shifts entirely. In moments of crisis, Archie becomes intensely focused, taking things as seriously as anyone could. He quickly switches gears to strategize a way out of trouble, even if it means putting himself directly in harm’s way to ensure the safety of his crew.


-------------------------------

Role Amongst The Crew - Lookout

Strengths and Weaknesses - Archie excels in one-on-one combat, having honed his swordsmanship over many years of rigorous training. His natural instinct for sensing danger makes him a formidable opponent, often predicting the flow of battle with uncanny accuracy. When Archie declares that things will unfold a certain way, they almost always do, thanks to his quick thinking and sharp problem-solving skills in high-pressure situations. His keen eye for detail allows him to notice and remember subtle cues that others might overlook. However, Archie is not without his flaws. Emotionally drained and carrying the weight of a hidden past, he struggles to fully open up, even to those he trusts on the crew. This lingering burden often drives him to act impulsively, leaping into dangerous situations on his own instead of reporting back, which can inadvertently put his comrades at risk.


How Long Have They Been With The Crew? - 2 and a half years

History / Backstory - Archie has only let bits and pieces of his background out to the rest of the crew, however these alone paint the picture. At some point as a kid Archie recieved formal sword training, which is why he has his x scar. He also was sold into slavery, being sent all over the middle east to perform slave labor. Some event in his life also produced a discomfort for being unexpectedly touched. As for how he got on the crew, that was simple. He was running away from tax collectors and jumped on the boat right before it left dock, adopting himself into the crew.

Weaponry - A flintlock pistol, a Dao sword, and a dagger

-------------------------------

Likes - Being out on a peaceful sea, group dinners, the night sky and specifically stars, fiddling and spinning his dagger around, the morning sun, easy looting missions, a warm bath, the ocean breeze, seagulls blows, and any sort of animal, specifically birds.

Dislikes - Being touched unexpectedly, enclosed spaces, snakes, feeling alone, unexpected raids, unpleasant surprises

Habits - Wakes up early to practice sword skills, hands shake when he is uncomfortable even if his face and voice seem fine, stingy with his money and always haggling for a deal, dozing off in the day and staying up at night, zoning out of regular conversation when not directly addressed to.

Fears - Being alone, the pitch dark

-------------------------------

Aroma - Citrus and Peaches

 

[sappho_]

Josephina Archambeau

#The Musician

#Emmy Rossum

♡coded by uxie♡

Name: Josephina Archambeau
Nicknames: Josie
Age: Twenty-two
Gender: Female
Species: Fairy basslet siren
Pronouns: She/her
Orientation: Bisexual biromantic
Role: Musician

Date of Birth: Summer of 1636
Place of Birth: An unknown island in the Caribbean

Description: Josephina has a rather soft air about her. She has a lean body which is usually covered by one of the many gown she accumulated during her time in France. She is pale with contrasting midnight eyes and waist length curly dark brown hair. She stands at five feet and five inches, which grows when she is in her siren form. She grows gill slits on the side of her neck, her skin goes a purple toned pale, and her legs fuse into a tail that transition from royal purple around her waist to bright yellow. She has a nasty scar on her upper left thigh from being captured by sailors in her youth. She smells of the honey and lavender soap she uses.

Abilities: In her siren form, Josephina can swim extremely fast, breathe underwater, and see particularly well in the dark while in water. Her teeth grow razor sharp and her fingernails become claws in this form. Either for evasion or attack, she can summon thick fog. Both in and out of her siren form, she has a magnetic, maybe even deadly voice.

Personality: (Will expand on) Adventurous, charismatic, creative, passionate, blunt, obsessive, squeamish, melancholic.

Strengths: Singing, playing string instruments, performance, creativity, stealth

Weaknesses: Reading, writing, combat, strategy, navigation

​

Likes: Opera and orchestra, deep waters, rainstorms, perfume, expensive clothes

Dislikes: Confrontation, fighting, poachers, schooling, high society

Fears: Fire, being forgotten, heights, loneliness.

Weaponry: Not much of a fighter herself, she only carries a small hidden dagger for protection

Time with the Crew: Roughly two years

History: (Will expand on) A siren kidnapped and brought to France as an oddity attraction. She was purchased by an opera house and classically trained as a string musician and eventually as a coloratura soprano. Joined the crew in an attempt to find her family while exploring the high seas, which has not been successful as of yet.

​

 

[InspiredInk]

Jessica Beaufort

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Jessica Beaufort
Nicknames: Jess or Beau
Age: 45
Gender: Cis-Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Bisexual

Species: Human
Powers and Abilities: Jessica has knowledge of Witch Magic but it requires Apothecary ingredients and usually a great deal of preparation. She can store some prepared spells in vials that will activate upon contact with fire or water depending on what they are.

Description: Jessica is a tall pale, blonde (with the expectation of a streak of silver hair near her forehead) with the appearance of woman in her early 20's not late 40's thanks to her skill in Apothecary Magic. She has no visible scars but has eyes as grey as a cloudy sky.
Birthday: June 10, 1613
Body Mod: Pierced Ears, Lower back and legs are scattered in burn scars.
Role in the Crew: Surgeon
How Long: One Year, 3 Months
Strengths: Apothecary Arts, Poison, Healing & Surgery (She's not a very good surgeon, better at preventative and non-surgical care), Observation, Research, Knife Fighting
Weaknesses: Combat involving long ranged weapons, Staying calm in a crowded location such as a city, She is suspicious of every new person she meets which makes it challenging for her to make new friends.
Weapon: Spell vials, throwing knives and a pair of daggers

Likes: Flowers, Herbs, Alchemical Ingredients and Recipes, Books, The Ocean
Dislikes: Uncleanliness, Disorganization, large animals, Ignorance
Habits: Jessica will often be found cleaning around the Infirmary especially when agitated, She will massage her right leg when a storm begins brewing, when her hands are not busy with something she can frequently be found fingering some sort of alchemical ingredient - usually one that smells good.
Fears: Crowded or Cramped spaces, Fire larger than a lantern flame

Aroma: Jessica smells like an Apothecary's shop with Lavender and Mint as outstanding scents
Voice Claim: None - Her voice is light and airy with an accent carrying both French and Spanish pronunciation

History: Jessica was born a child prodigy in a small village near the border of France and Spain to a pair of Doctors who raised her to follow in their stead as a nurse. She quickly absorbed and comprehended what they taught her, allowing her to begin assisting in Healing at the age of 10. When she was 15, they perished in a plague outbreak and her Aunt in Spain took her in.

Her Aunt ran an Apothecary shop, teaching her how to mix medicines and poisons. When Jessica was 17, she found out her Aunt followed Witchcraft arts, especially in regards to how she performed Alchemy. Thus began in training in this area as well. She learned how to imbue certain ingredients with magic, perform small rituals but always to heal, never to curse.

When Jessica was 25, she and her aunt were dragged to a Witches' Pyre to burned for the crime of Witchcraft and Sorcery. Which of their friends or relatives has sold them out, she'd never know but she cursed them all the same. As the fire licked up the Pyre, beginning to burn them, her Aunt used a powerful spell to make a distraction for Jessica, allowing her to escape with her life. She would regret leaving her Aunt behind to die to this day.

The next 20 years were spent in near isolation as she honed her skills and craft. The lessons of her Family never faded from her, so despite the risk she still aided those who appeared at her doorstep, even occasionally venturing into the nearby village with free medicine for peasants who could not afford more expensive treatment.

Then almost 2 years ago, another witch hunt began. Jessica gathered what belongings she could carry and fled to the Ocean, her original intention to seek passage to a new continent, only to realize she would be chased for what she was wherever she she went. Taking a risk, she offered her services to Captain Dori and has found a family amongst the pirate crew, the likes of which she never thought she'd have again.

coded by @DeerPrince
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Last edited: May 10, 2018
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[Grimm]

scroll

her & the sea

clann

raven

azar

persona

&

attributes

virtues

vices

backstory

&

connections

name.

Raven Alexandra Azar

alias.

Lady Alexandra (for land dwellers only)

age.

27 (100yr)

gender.

Female

sexuality.

Demisexual; Demiromantic

species.

Vampire

role.

Surgeon

"I die a hundred deaths each day... I die when I see hungry people, or people who're sad... I die when I know I cannot save everyone... I die when I feel helpless when my loved one is in pain..."

eyes.

Dark brown

hair.

Black

skin.

Olive

ethnicity.

English & Chinese

height.

5' 4"

body mods.

Red spider lillies down her back & two ear piercings.

faceclaim.

Jessie Mei Li

overview.

Kind, enigmatic, & just helps to sum up the woman she is. No matter what the cards have dealt for her or how often Raven has her hand bitten by the mouths she's fed, those same cold hands readily reach out to help those in need. Raven has attached herself to the solace of the small joys of others. Dwelling on the outside of the glass peering in. Those beautiful moments breathe life into her despite it equally taking a piece of her each time. Many of her years have been lived like this and slowly the heart has grown to crave a piece of that joy, a moment of her own that isn't tainted by blood and betrayal but the past has made her hesitant.

"I'm a perceptive person. I know what's good and I don't venture into what's not good."

style.

It's been a long time since the woman traded her gowns and dresses for trousers and lavish coats. Though her preference in style is considered rather boyish with simple cotton blouses & trousers, there is always a slight balance of femininity with her accessories or in it's colors. She prefers a piece of clothing above all: her maroon coat with gold buttons and intricate patterning on the inside of golds, reds, browns & black.

hobbies.

sewing, late night ventures, creating balms/homemade remedies, soap making, reading whatever she can get her hands on, enjoying the small things, star gazing, helping out, collecting gems, journaling her adventures, studying languages & cultures, fencing, swimming in the sea, people watching.

ambitions.

To help those she can, to experience life at its rawest, and to make at least one lasting connection.

fears.

Losing her kindness, having someone perish because of her and her actions, betrayal, large fires.

aversions.

Politics over humanity, Her feedings, Bringing up her past & her silent self-disdain.

ailments.

Axiety, panic attacks, and the loss of her pinkie before she was turned.

kind

"There is still good in this world and my heart will do what it wants to let others who need it know that. It is one of those things in you that you cannot deny."

determined

"When the mind is put to something and the heart agrees it's rather hard to let it go."

insightful

"a little observance and opening your heart to understanding can go a long way... or not. For me, I cannot help it. "

cultured

"My family had access to many things and in turn so did I. Though I spent much time in our libraries, hearing stories from others, and wandering around learning what I could was another venture. One my mother and father did not take to very well. . . but I could not stop what I adore."

true

"I had many versions of myself but one thing that stays true is the core. I do not need to lie unless it's necessary nor do I abandon those who I've earned trust with. The world is beautiful as it is corrupt but I will not shield someone from the truth, though I will be here to soothe if it's worth anything."

hesitant

"I do admit, it's maybe why I'm observant of others. Being burned in the past makes some things harder for me to get used to or open up about but give me time, I tend to come around. "

emotional

"Father always said being too emotional made one weak but I don't believe that. It may make me a little irrational, lead with my heart instead of my head at times but it's anything but weak. "

stubborn

"Being resistant to change in my life is a bit frightening to me because when you think you have it figured out, the floor is suddenly swept from beneath you and you begin to feel things you never have. I may frustrate others when it arises in me but in the moment I do believe I'm doing the right thing, and if it truly isn't as said before I tend to come around, just a little time is needed. "

anxious

"The guilt, wondering if those I care for will make it back in one piece, my next feeding... whether I will one day combust mysteriously beneath the sun's rays without so much as a farewell. It all gets too much in my head sometimes..."

naïve

"Blinded by determination and the need to help those who need it the most, to make things whole again it can blind you from the intentions of others. Many times I have fallen for it... and continue to."

"People come and go in your life. It is up to you choose how you want to associate with that person. It is up to you to learn and imbibe things from such a person."

history.

Raven does not like to particularly reminisce about her past or her family because it was a constant struggle between chasing her freedom, oppression, and her death. She was wedded and suffered greatly at a time but that's all come to an end. She traveled to many lands after her rebirth immersing herself in various cultures, texts, and people. Eventually, this led her to want to help people and so she began to dabble in healing, using different plants and various other items to help heal others. Her sewing skills and understanding of the human anatomy even helped in extreme situations. The fondest memory Raven carries is of when she ventured back to see her brothers or more like observe them from afar. Accidentally she interacted with her nephew who did not know who she was in the ports of their old town. The markets were teeming with liveliness, and colors all around as the festival was in full swing. He smiled apologetically at her, gifting her a red ribbon he had a bunch of in his hand. Lady Alexandra ruffled his hair and thanked him before the boy ran off once more. Despite using that ribbon till this day to tie up her hair or wear on her coat, the feelings are bittersweet every time it catches her eye.

aroma.

Raven has experimented with many perfume mixtures in the past as well as soaps creating the scent she wears now which is a mixture of orange blossoms, vetiver, lavender, and the parchment paper she buries her nose in constantly. Mixed with her sweat it enhances both the fresh and earthy-floral notes in it giving birth to something soft and wild.

commitments.

N/A

abilities.

memories transferred through blood consumption is unique to herself but can also be a curse. The memories are almost always random and connected to a feeling that her donor might be experiencing at the moment.

likes.

the silence that comes with being submerged under water, fruits, children, gems and gold jewelry, loose-leaf tea, writing & reading, foraging whenever she can, when it rains, the process of making her medicines/remedies, music and string instruments, sentimental trinkets, jellyfish & sea turtles (animals in general), burying her nose in books, accents, the nighttime, the little things/beautiful memories, listening to stories, different cultures, helping those in need, silk undergarments/bed attire, rice paper lanterns, festivals, the smell of parchment paper, learning others favorite things, a strong rice or white wine, adventures, experimenting around with her sewing abilities, physical activities, the night sky with her moon, genuine laughter, drying flowers & herbs.

dislikes.

overly sweet foods, cruelty & discrimination, the smell of blood (even if it's alluring), experiencing others' bad memories, getting sand in her boots and other places, raisins, ignorance & arrogance, rough seas, arranged marriages, losing her freedom, sudden loud noises, the smell of filth, being taken advantage of, when her emotions overtake her, doing nothing, when the innocent or those that she cares for get hurt, chafing, chains, being burned, dresses and gowns.

habits.

playing with her citrine pendant when she's anxious, reading in the infirmary, biting the inside of her lip when holding her tongue, nighttime swims, buying something for her friends every time they port, stalking back and forth when she's angered or thinking under stress, minor staring problem, having her hair braided for bed, constantly disinfecting her instruments, laying on the deck staring at the stars or writing at night, maintaining her sabre when she's deep in thought, fragrant baths.

time with he crew.

1yr & 11 months.

family.

jing azar is her father & passed at the age of 40. laura azar is her mother who passed at age 52. her older brothers yu & erik both passed at the age of 25 & 28. Her ex-husband was named hao ming and he was killed by her sire catalina.

N/A

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N/A

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N/A

Rutrum suspendisse nisi nec odio cras iaculis duis vestibulum. Inceptos et fringilla a lectus bibendum consequat etiam morbi aptent. Facilisi iaculis semper ante cras, himenaeos augue nisl porttitor vestibulum. Scelerisque tempus torquent iaculis facilisis nibh non ultrices. Sed facilisis dapibus habitasse placerat iaculis donec ad himenaeos suspendisse. Fames netus bibendum taciti potenti lacinia facilisi ad platea aliquam.

filler

 

[Fabrikator.Nova]

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• o

• Viva La Vida

  Coldplay

  
  

  
  

  
  

  01

  name

  Caspian Doran Morello

  02

  Nickname

  Cas ;; Prince

  03

  age

  "33"

  04

  date of birth

  February 7th, 1300s

  05

  gender

  Cisgender Male

  06

  sexuality

  Demiromantic Pansexual

  07

  Pronouns

  He/Him

  08

  role

  "Captain of Flavor".....Cook

  09

  Species

  Vampire

  10

  Face Claim

  Pedro Pascal

  11

  Time with Crew

  1 Year

  12

  Voice Claim

  Pedro Pascal as Oberyn Martell
• hair colour / style

  
  

  Caspian's hair is kept on the short side and styled in a way that balances practicality with a bit of handsome flair. It's a deep, almost black, brown color and the texture is naturally wavy and thick which lends to a slightly tousled-at-all-times look that appears deliberate. It's trimmed neatly at the sides with the top left a little longer, allowing it to fall loosely and wherever it may desire. It's not overly fussed or styled which lends to his more laid-back nature.
  

  eyes

  
  

  Dark and intense, Caspian's eyes are a deep shade of brown that almost matches his hair color. Their endless depths are mysterious and one can never quite tell what his next thoughts or words might be, even gazing within them. His gaze is sharp, cutting to the quick and through any pretenses shown before him with his unnaturally long life experience. There is a penetrating quality to his stare coupled with a knowing gleam that reveals he may know more than he lets on. There is a warmth to them but just as quickly can he become cold and almost dangerous.
  
  One does not survive as long as he has without some danger involved.

  build

  
  

  Caspian is the epitome of a mesomorph—muscular and athletic, his physique betrays little of the true strength that lies beneath. Enhanced by his vampiric nature, he’s not just strong; he’s a force to be reckoned with. A warrior for most of his life, Caspian's body remains finely tuned, and even when not engaged in combat, he finds ways to stay in peak condition. As a vampire, he is, at his core, a predator, and his body is built to overpower, outlast, and contend with any threat that comes his way.

  attire

  
  

  Caspian’s clothing may be considered lavish by most, but for him, it’s an extension of his personality—an artful choice that reflects his appreciation for both beauty and substance. Much like the way he carefully seasons his dishes to create perfect harmony of flavor, he selects jewel-toned garments that fit him impeccably, allowing the fabrics to flow and move with his every step. These clothes, rich in color and texture, hark back to his days as a prince, a time he still carries with him in his eternal, unnatural life. His tunics and robes are crafted from soft yet durable fabrics, built to endure the passage of time with effortless grace. The deep cuts and open-neck styles reveal the sculpted, toned muscles of his chest, radiating a sensuality that feels both casual and deliberate, as if his presence is enough to command attention without trying.
  
  Though he wears little in the way of adornment, Caspian is never seen without his wedding band—a simple yet precious gold ring that rests on his left ring finger. It is his most treasured possession, a constant reminder of a time long passed and a love that endures beyond the years. To those who would dare to take it from him, the consequences are swift and lethal. Caspian does not take his wife’s memory lightly, and he carries the weight of that commitment as fiercely as the man he once was.
  

  modifications

  
  

  None, for his vampiric blood would heal the modifications in time but that doesn't stop him from admiring those who ARE capable of displaying works of art upon their body.

  scars / markings

  
  

  Caspian bears the scars from when he was turned: two points where his sire's fangs bit into his neck. Other than that, the only other blemish or flaw upon his unmarked body is a scar on his chest just over his heart where a Hunter had nearly succeeded in killing the vampire with a blessed silver weapon.

  physical / health ailments

  
  

  Strong of body and mind, the Prince's only ailment is the insatiable thirst for blood.

  aroma

  
  

  The air around the vampire carries the lingering scent of rich spices—cinnamon, clove, and cardamom—intertwined with the sweetness of jasmine and dark honey. It’s a fragrance that clings to the space he occupies, captivating and alluring. Whether this scent is a natural trait of his kind, designed to seduce and calm prey, or simply a mark of his own presence, remains unclear. Regardless, it has an undeniable effect, drawing others in with its hypnotic, soothing quality.

  weight

  175lbs // 79.4kg

  height

  6'1'' // 185.4cm
• • o
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  • virtues

    Loyal

    Brave

    Empathetic

    Charming

    Passionate

    Intelligent
  • vices

    Impulsive

    Vengeful

    Reckless

    Impatient

    Rebellious

    Emotional
  • likes

    Adventure/Exploration

    Cultural Differences

    The Moon/Nighttime

    Wiiiiiiine

    Music and Storytelling

    Complex flavors

    Companionship

    Food of all kinds

    A Good Fight

    dislikes

    Cowardice

    Betrayal

    Violence without purpose

    Hypocrisy

    Confinement and Limitation

    Suffering of the Innocent

    Intolerance

    Being left alone with his thoughts
  • strengths

    Recreating almost any dish from memory ;; Identifying spices upon first taste ;; Sommelier ;; Crafting complex flavor profiles ;; Diplomacy ;; Dancing ;; Close Quarters Combat ;; Sword Fighting ;; Deception/Subterfuge ;; Sleight of Hand ;; Strategic Intelligence ;; Persuasion ;; Vampiric Enhancements ;; Unyielding Code of Honor
    

    weaknesses

    Suddenly Afflicted with Melancholy ;; Respecting Certain Authorities ;; Stubborn ;; Vengeful ;; Bloodlust

    habits

    Drinking ;; Detailing new recipes and flavor combinations in a personal journal ;; Sharpening weapons when troubled ;; Stargazing ;; Talks to himself when working through problems ;; Sets out a separate portion of a meal for his late wife

    fears

    Losing his humanity ;; Forgetting his late wife ;; Never rekindling true zest for life ;; Immortality ;; Being Forgotten
  • favourites

    Jewel Tones and Gold

    Herb Crusted Lamb

    Sea Shanties and Instrumentals

    An aged red wine

  To taste life once more... that would be a feast to end all feasts. But I have learned that the true flavor of living is not just in the food, but in the moments shared between bites.

  personality

  Caspian is a man known for his fierce passions that fuel both his craft and his heart. As a warrior, he was formidable, a force to be reckoned with in battle, but it is as a lover where his true intensity lies. His passions run deep, igniting every aspect of his life—whether it's the sword in his hand, the heat of the moment with a lover, or the art of creating a perfectly composed meal. Caspian was always a man of great warmth and generosity, admired by his people for his kindness and charisma. With every step he took, heads turned; his presence was commanding, yet disarming. He exuded a refined elegance that came not just from his royal upbringing but from his intellectual pursuits—well-read, studied, and poised, he was the epitome of a true gentleman. It was easy for anyone to see why so many found themselves drawn to him—both men and women alike.
  
  Confident in his abilities, Caspian took great pride in the finer details of life. No task was too small, no endeavor beneath him—especially when it came to his culinary expertise. His meals were his art, and he reveled in the reactions of those who had the privilege to indulge in his creations. The joy of sharing a meal with others, seeing their faces light up with pleasure, was a small solace for the lonely centuries he had endured. Still, despite the laughter and admiration that followed him, Caspian never forgot that not every dish was perfect. He carried himself with the humility to acknowledge his imperfections, even if that didn’t always stop him from perfecting the next course with relentless determination.
  
  However, beneath the warm smile and the elegant manner, there lies a man constantly at war with himself. The loss of his greatest love, his beloved wife, hangs over him like an inescapable shadow. The curse of immortality, a gift that was thrust upon him against his will, has left Caspian with a hollow existence that none can truly understand. He is a master of concealing his inner turmoil, presenting an image of the charming, well-spoken man he once was—but those who look into his eyes for too long will catch a glimpse of the darkness within. It is a sadness that permeates his soul, one that time has only deepened and never quite healed. Though he speaks little of his past, his loneliness is palpable to those who know him well.
  
  Yet, despite the weight of centuries, Caspian has not allowed himself to become fully jaded. The years may have hardened him, but his core remains unchanged—his sense of justice is unwavering, and he stands as a protector of the innocent. His loyalty, once earned, is absolute, and he values camaraderie above all else, especially in an age ruled by mutiny and greed. To betray him is to invite his wrath, but to be his ally is to have his fierce, undying protection. His compassionate nature has led him to defend those who cannot defend themselves, even if it means putting his own existence at risk.
  
  But Caspian is not without his darker side. His temper, once controlled by royal decorum, has become a volatile force that, when provoked, can turn destructive. His smile can quickly grow sinister, his charm replaced by a chilling coldness. In those rare moments of anger, there is no hesitation. If the situation allows, he will remove any threat to those he loves from the mortal plane without a second thought. His many years as a prince and as a vampire have honed his abilities to a razor-sharp edge. Those who underestimate him or trifle with his emotions make a grave mistake—his protection of those close to him is an unbreakable bond, and crossing it can be fatal.
  
• A Life Worth Living...

  Once a Prince in the 1300s, Caspian was born into the luxury and privilege that came with being highborn, but with one crucial difference—he was the second son. While his elder brother carried the heavy mantle of kingship, Caspian was free to live a life of indulgence and whimsy, unburdened by the weight of a crown. He enjoyed every privilege, from lavish feasts to elaborate celebrations, all without the responsibility or expectations placed upon his brother. His days were filled with transient pleasures—extravagant parties, beautiful men and women, and all the opulence his station could provide—but, despite the luxuries, his life felt ultimately hollow, lacking purpose. While yes, the Prince was a good man and did well by his people and his family, there was no true fire that stoked within the man’s heart aside from what he knew he was SUPPOSED to do. It was a world of excess, yet one that held no true meaning... until she came into his life.
  
  Her name was Eleanor, the daughter of a Duchess from a distant kingdom. Their meeting seemed almost fated, a twist of destiny that Caspian often referred to as divine intervention whenever asked about it. Eleanor was everything Caspian had never been—a woman of grace, intellect, and a sense of duty that anchored her firmly in the world of politics and royal obligation. Her sheltered upbringing as the daughter of a high-ranking noble meant she was worlds apart from Caspian's freewheeling life, yet somehow, they were drawn to one another with an undeniable force.
  
  Where Caspian had once been carefree and reckless, indulging in every whim, Eleanor became the grounding force he never knew he needed. She helped shape the rogue Prince into a man who understood the weight of responsibility, even though he had no official claim to the throne. Eleanor was his anchor in a world filled with political scheming and hollow grandeur. She made him realize that love could be more than a fleeting emotion—it could be a force that transcended royal duty and obligation.
  
  Their romance unfolded like a whirlwind of passion, discovery, and growth. Caspian, the indulgent Prince, and Eleanor, the sheltered daughter of nobility, found in each other something neither expected. They opened each other's eyes to new possibilities—Eleanor to the exciting but dangerous world of passion and adventure, and Caspian to the deeper, more meaningful aspects of life. Their relationship defied expectations and stood the test of time, becoming a romance that the court and their families readily accepted.
  
  It wasn’t long before Caspian knew that he wanted to marry Eleanor. But unlike the impulsive, carefree Prince he had once been, he held back from proposing immediately. He understood that love, at least with Eleanor, deserved more than grand gestures and impromptu decisions. This time, he was thoughtful, calculating, and dedicated. He wanted his proposal to be perfect, a reflection of his devotion to her and his desire to build a future together.
  
  The impulsive man who would once act on a whim had transformed into a Prince of intention, and one of his favorite ways to express his affection was through food. Caspian, with his natural flair for creativity, began to craft elaborate meals and intimate dining experiences for Eleanor. He found joy in the art of cooking, believing that through the flavors and textures he created, he could communicate the depth of his feelings for her. It wasn’t just about satisfying hunger—it was about showing Eleanor that his love was something tangible, something that could be tasted, savored, and shared.
  
  One day, after preparing a carefully planned picnic for the two of them, Caspian felt the moment was right. Surrounded by the simplicity of nature, in the midst of a beautiful meal he had lovingly crafted, Caspian took Eleanor’s hand and proposed. It was a proposal filled with tenderness, emotion, and a certainty that he had never known before. Their engagement marked the beginning of a future they would share—one that promised to be built on love, mutual respect, and the deep connection they had forged.
  
  In Eleanor, Caspian had found not just a partner, but the woman who would forever alter the course of his life. Where once he had been a man adrift in a sea of indulgence, he was now anchored by the woman he loved, ready to face whatever challenges the future might bring, together.
  

  A Love Persevering...

  Prince Caspian and Princess Eleanor were the epitome of joy and promise for their families. Their love was a beacon, their union the symbol of a bright future. Together, they were unstoppable, their bond a force of nature—one that seemed as though it could never be broken. But, as with all things that burn so brightly, their flame was destined to be extinguished by forces beyond their control.
  
  The war that had been looming for years between Caspian's kingdom and a neighboring rival kingdom finally erupted. The enemy sought nothing less than to dismantle the Morello reign entirely, and the threat was one that could not be ignored. His blood was that of a warrior, and he could not sit idly by while his people fought and died in the name of king and country. Though his original role was to boost morale and rally the troops with his presence, Caspian was not one to hide behind a banner. He was among the first to charge into battle, wielding his sword with both strength and deadly cunning. His leadership, bravery, and tactical brilliance turned the tide of the war, and it was his guidance that led them to victory.
  
  However fate seemed to have additional machinations for the good Prince.
  
  In the midst of the final clash, as the enemy forces were on the verge of surrender, Caspian found himself locked in a duel with their king—a fight that would determine the future of the war. He fought valiantly, his skill and might gaining him the upper hand. But just as victory seemed within his grasp, the impossible happened. His opponent, desperate and outmatched, had an ally—one who was far more dangerous than any soldier on the field.
  
  Before Caspian could react, he was seized by an unseen force, restrained with a strength that was unnatural. His vision blurred as something sharp bit deep into his neck. The vitality drained from his body faster than he could comprehend; his muscles, once strong and unyielding, became weak and no matter how hard he struggled, there was no escaping the iron grip of the creature that held him.
  
  In the midst of his disorientation, as the world around him grew darker, Caspian's eyes locked onto a figure—a woman, whose eyes burned with a deep, mesmerizing crimson. Her fangs sank further into his flesh, and though the pain was unbearable, it was her gaze that captured him and lulled him into the oppressive darkness. As she pulled away, a thin trail of blood dripping from her chin, she spoke softly, her voice laced with a promise and a threat.
  
  “I expect much from you... my Prince.”
  
  The last of Caspian's strength faded as he succumbed to the darkness.
  
  Word of the Prince’s fall spread quickly. The soldiers, though victorious, returned home with heavy hearts. They had won the war, but their hero—the man who had led them—was lost to them. His body was returned to his kingdom, but the life that had once burned so brightly within him was now gone.
  
  And yet, what the people did not know—what they could never have imagined—was that the woman with the crimson eyes had not left him behind. She had followed them back to the kingdom, embedding herself within the ranks and slipping unnoticed into the shadows of Caspian’s world.
  
  When Caspian finally awoke, it was not to the light of day, nor to the cheers of his people, but to a quiet, intimate scene. Eleanor was there, by his side, holding his hand as if the very act could will him back to life. She tended to him with unwavering devotion, her love and prayers a constant in the days that followed. Her hope, so strong and so fierce, never wavered as she poured all her energy into caring for him, praying for his survival, convinced that the man she loved—her husband—would return to her if she just held on to some shred of hope no matter how small.
  
  His body felt different, foreign. The world around him, though familiar, seemed to move at a distance. The love he shared with Eleanor remained, but something had shifted, something deep within him. He was no longer the man he had been but something far more primal…hungry.
  
  “Darling,” Eleanor threw her arms around Caspian’s neck and clung tightly to him as he rose to sit, one arm loosely draped around his wife’s waist. “I knew you would return. I knew you would not leave me! We must tell everyone the good–” A sharp gasp left the rest of her jubilant relief to die upon her lips.
  
  Buried deep into her neck, the slender curve of which had ended up tantalizingly close to his nostrils, were the impossibly sharp and elongated fangs of Prince Caspian. Both arms wrapped tightly around Eleanor and he drank with an insatiable thirst for which only her blood could remedy. It wasn’t until a dark laughter, haunting and foreboding, echoed within the room did Caspian wrench himself from his wife’s neck and looked down at what he’d done.
  
  Her tanned skin was unnaturally pale and her body had gone limp in his arms. Though there was still a pulse within her, it was faint and weak like a frail hummingbird. The Prince looked up at the woman with deep crimson eyes and with a low growl, he bared his fangs at her.
  
  “Help me. Now.” He commanded with venom in his voice.
  
  “Is that really how you should speak to me, my Prince? Perhaps if you were…nicer~”
  
  Swallowing his pride was no easy medicine but for Eleanor, there was nothing he would not do. Glancing down upon the face of his beloved, the man spoke as though to her:
  
  “There is no life worth living without her light in it. Please…help me save her. I will do anything you ask–”
  
  For the first time, the woman’s smile faltered. She took a slow step forward, examining the Prince as though savoring his fall from grace.
  
  “Perhaps… I’ll help,” she mused, her tone thoughtful. “But the cost will be steep, Caspian. You’ve already taken the first step into darkness– it is impossible to turn back now. Will you do ANYTHING that I ask?”
  
  The silence stretched, and Caspian’s heart—if such a thing could still exist in his undead chest—hammered with fear. Fear of losing the woman he loved. Fear of what he had become. Fear that no matter what he did, the darkness would consume him, body and soul.
  
  “Yes,” he said, voice raw. “I will do anything. Just save her.”
  
  The vampire studied him for a long moment, her crimson eyes narrowing. Then, in a flash, she moved to Eleanor’s side. Her cold, delicate fingers brushed across the young woman’s brow, and Caspian could feel the change in the air—dark magic coiling in the atmosphere. The vampire’s voice was low and melodic as she spoke an incantation in an ancient tongue, her words laden with an unnatural power that hummed in his veins.
  
  Eleanor’s body jerked slightly, color returning to her cheeks in a faint, almost imperceptible manner. Her chest rose with a weak, shallow breath, and the relief Caspian felt was both overwhelming and terrifying. She was alive, but there was something darker in the air now. Caspian could feel it deep within him—an inescapable pull toward the unknown. The beating of his beloved’s heart stirred the hunger for her blood once more but this time, he was more prepared. Eyes wide with fear, Caspian looked up at the vampire who met his gaze with an amused smile.
  
  “You know you cannot stay. This kingdom…this life…this love of yours is no longer safe with you near. Leave. Leave with me and protect the life of your beloved, my Prince.”
  
  As vitality surged through Eleanor once more, Caspian cradled her gently against him and bowed his head to speak directly to her and her alone:
  
  “I will always love you.”
  
  The vampire’s presence loomed in the doorway, waiting, her crimson eyes flickering in the dim light. Caspian took one last look at his Eleanor, fighting the urge to stay by her side. He felt the pull of her blood, the agony of parting from her. But it was the only way to protect her...from himself.
  
  With a final, desperate kiss to her forehead, Caspian turned, taking the last step away from everything he had ever known. The vampire moved to him, her cold fingers brushing his arm, guiding him away from the kingdom and from the life he once knew.
  
  Together, they vanished into the night, leaving behind the crumbling remains of a life once filled with light and love. The shadows swallowed them whole, and with it, Caspian’s future. There would be no return, no redemption..only the darkness that now claimed him for the uncertain road ahead.
  

  A New Beginning...

  
  Kingdoms rose and fell. Time, as it always did, moved relentlessly forward, indifferent to those who lived within it. For some, it brought glory; for others, it brought ruin. Caspian, once a proud Prince, had learned this truth in the harshest of ways. Now he wandered the earth, a shadow of the man he once was and tethered to the will of a creature far older and more powerful than any mortal. His vampire sire, a woman named Zafrina, had made him her pet.
  
  She held him with a grip that was both possessive and cruel, controlling his every move. What she commanded, he delivered without hesitation or question. The faintest flicker of defiance was met with threats—threats not only to him, but to Eleanor, the woman Caspian had loved with all his heart. Zafrina knew his undying devotion hadn’t dissipated with time, and she used that knowledge to keep him in line.
  
  Though Zafrina’s hold on him was tight, Caspian found small moments of respite. Whenever she ventured off on her own dark pursuits, he would slip away from her grasp to visit the place where Eleanor lived. He would watch from a distance, unable to truly be close to her, but finding solace in the fact that she still breathed even as the years stole her youth. He saw her grow from a vibrant maiden into an aging woman yet in his eyes, she remained the most beautiful soul he had ever known.
  
  Then, the inevitable day came. Eleanor, the woman who had once been his light, passed away from old age. Caspian stood in the shadows, unable to truly mourn while his heart, heavy with the weight of both love and regret, wanted nothing more than to be with her. The shackles that had bound him to Zafrina loosened that day, their hold weakening for the first time since they left together. He had been allowed to attend Eleanor’s funeral as a small mercy granted by Zafrina, a cruel gift wrapped in mock charity.
  
  Caspian had bided his time, patient and unyielding, waiting for the moment when he could strike. That moment had arrived: with calculated precision and years of patient planning, he ended Zafrina’s reign of control and in that instant, he tasted freedom once more. The vampire who had held him captive for so long was gone, but as he stood in the stillness of her final breath, Caspian was left with an unsettling emptiness. What now? What was the point of living without Eleanor by his side? The world seemed vast, but without her light, it felt...hollow.
  
  His eyes fell upon his left hand, where a gold band still rested on his ring finger—a symbol of a love long lost but never forgotten. The warmth that lingered there was the only reminder of the life he once had, the life he had been robbed of. In the quiet solitude of his thoughts, a voice, soft but unmistakable, seemed to whisper on the breeze:
  
  “Live, my Darling. Live for what was taken away too soon. Live for us.”
  
  The words echoed through his soul, stirring something deep within him. Eleanor’s love had never truly left him; her spirit, her memory, was woven into every fiber of his being. And for her, he found the strength to go on. He chose to live—not for the world, not for revenge, but for the life they had once shared and for all that had been stolen from them both.
  
  Caspian’s path shifted once more but this time, it was by his own choice. He became a traveler, not aimlessly wandering, but seeking, learning, and savoring every experience. The world was vast, its histories rich with stories, its flavors endless and varied. His journal became his most trusted companion, a repository for his thoughts and observations, his notes on the things he had discovered. Every new place, every new meal, he would share with Eleanor in spirit, writing to her as though she were still beside him.
  
  “You would have enjoyed that one, my love,” he wrote one evening after a particularly exquisite meal in a faraway land. “Absolutely divine~”
  
  Though she was no longer physically by his side, she lived on in the words he wrote, in the memories he cherished, and in the love that would never fade.
  
  But even as he traveled, the divine had other plans for him. Whispers of a ship seeking a cook reached his ears, and once again, he listened to the call of fate directing his path. A pirate vessel, The Night Jewel, was in need of someone with culinary skill…and so Caspian boarded seeking a new adventure.
  
  “You will simply die once you’ve had a taste of my cooking. Tell me…have you ever feasted amongst kings?”
  
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