Fantasy 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 — THE CAST

[ComplexDragon]

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  Tallulah Azzarà

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  # The Magpie

  
  
  
  
  

  # Gratiela Brancusi

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  ♡coded by uxie♡

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
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  There is some music in the fourth tab. The vibes are absolutely PERFECT for Tallulah. So go ahead and press play on that while you read through
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  the magpie.

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  scroll

  
  

  tallulah

  
  
  
  

  azzara

  
  

  
  
  
  

  ㅎㅎ

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  01.

  
  

  full name

  
  

  
  
  
  

  tallulah giovanella azzara

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  02.

  
  

  alias

  
  

  
  
  
  

  La Sicaria (Lula, Lulu, Lala, Tully)

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  03.

  
  

  age

  
  

  
  
  
  

  29

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  04.

  
  

  sexuality

  
  

  
  
  
  

  bisexual

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  05.

  
  

  p.o.b

  
  

  
  
  
  

  sirocco sands

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  • .
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    actress.

    
    
    
    

    We all eat lies when our heart is hungry
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
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    visage

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    height

    
    

    5'7

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    hair colour

    
    

    Brown with natural highlights

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    eye colour

    
    

    Deep brown

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    face claim

    
    

    Gratiela Brancusi

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    hair

    
    

    A curtain of curly dark tresses. If you look closely, you’ll find a myriad of shades, ranging from rusty red to deep brown. It’s often tied back or covered, and perpetually frizzy. But she’s proud of it. While it’s distinctive, it belongs to countless women from her lineage, and is her act of defiance to care for it and let it grow untamed.
    

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    eyes

    
    

    Striking eyes like silky sweet chocolate. Don’t be fooled by the softness hiding in their depths. They have been used to manipulate and murder, to suffocate and silence. They shift and morph based on need. And often hold a fiery inferno of rage and frustration. But, if you’re lucky, you’ll see them alight with the brilliance of a clear night sky. Reserved for those she holds dearest, or moments of pure hope.
    

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    build

    
    

    On the more slender side, having been underfed most of her life. Her face and arms are often covered in a layer of grime and dirt that she’s never been quite able to shed. She’s learned to wear it as armor; a reminder of where she came from and where she’s going.
    

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    scars

    
    

    A few scars on her lower legs, and across her forearms. One silvery strand across her right cheek, from where Carrow nicked her when they first met.
    

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
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    persona

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    There’s a reason that Tallulah Azzara is often compared to a magpie. She’s a flamboyant, boisterous, and lively person, who is only quiet if it serves her needs. At her core she is a performer. She loves to tell stories and show people worlds they can only imagine. She’ll talk your ear off, sometimes about nonsense, but does it in a way that you can’t help but sit and listen. She’s the master of distraction and disguise. While she’s not very good at tact, diplomacy or negotiation, she can spin stories and tales and tell you exactly what you want to hear. It’s manipulation more than anything, but it works to keep people sedated and happy.
    
    Tallulah has an almost compulsive desire for adventure, adrenaline and shiny objects. She is a skilled thief and conwoman, and has no qualms about fleecing down an innocent bystander for a trinket that could make her terribly wealthy. Or even for a cheap piece of gold that would look good on her neck. She’s reckless, impulsive, and jumps into things without thinking. Life is not truly life without a little danger to quicken the pulse. But it results in her getting into situations she could have avoided, or creating enemies where she should have made a friend.
    
    While she is fiercely loyal to those she cares about, and has a bit of a romantic streak, necessity and survival have squashed those traits down. Instead, she’s left with a tendency to avoid attachment, and distance herself from anyone who might become a liability, or worse a threat. She is very self sufficient and can take care of herself, to the point where she lacks an ability to ask for or take help. Why let someone else do it when she can and should do it herself? She is ever confident, curious, and intelligent. Displaying much out of the box thinking, and enjoying a challenge.
    
    However, she can be very uncooperative, stubborn, and self centered. She’s used to being alone, so she’s always looking out for number one. If someone else gets hurt, well then, darling, that’s just the way it goes. The need to look out for her own interests first often comes into conflict with her desire to defend those who cannot or who she cares for. It’s anyone’s guess whether or not the better part of herself will win out. She’s also horrible at listening to anyone in charge, or cooperating with others. That requires trust, and she does not trust anyone as far as she can throw them. She’s been controlled and followed orders, and all it did was weaken her. Everyone is only looking out for themselves, and therefore, that’s what she should do too. Doing anything else is practically suicide.
    
    The question remains whether or not this magpie will ever recover the kinder girl she once was. Or, if she’ll turn into the ruthless monster time and circumstance is begging her to be.
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    likes

    
    
    

    
    
    

    Stealing

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    dancing

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    singing

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    bright colors

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    hair accessories

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    hoop earrings

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    bangles

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    adventure

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    travel

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    swimming

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    hair care

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    alcohol

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    knives

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    skirts with multiple layers

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    dark nights

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    sweet fruits

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    long naps

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    fires

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    smell of smoke

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    performing

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    close calls

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    collecting trinkets

    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    dislikes

    
    
    

    
    
    

    brothels

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    mute colors

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    chocolate

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    coffee

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    bitter foods

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    anything spicy

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    perfume

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    small critters

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    sleeping exposed

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    heavy armor

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    sand

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    royalty

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    people born into privilege

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    pda

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    people coming up on her from behind

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    small children

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    being restricted

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    being told what to do

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    snow

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    chilly weather

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    gloves

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    people taking from her

    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    fears

    
    
    

    
    
    

    being betrayed

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    losing control

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    getting caught

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    losing control

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    being forced to return to her former life

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    being locked in a room

    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    strengths

    
    
    

    
    
    

    Excellent pickpocket and thief

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    agile

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    quick

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    perceptive

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    intelligent

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    stealthy

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    master of disguise

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    distraction

    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    

    weaknesses

    
    
    

    
    
    

    Combat skills

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    uneducated

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    working with others

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    weak swimmer

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    brute strength

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    following directions

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    auditory processing

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    following rules and commands

    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
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    history

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    Grow Wild...

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    • Tallulah was born in Sirocco Sands in the lower class. Her mother worked as a serving wench in one of the various establishments, and Tallulah was the result of a one-night mistake.
    • She spent her early childhood roaming the streets or in a room upstairs. She was never allowed inside the establishment, for fear of deterring customers with the sight of a young girl. However, that didn’t stop her from sneaking downstairs to get a look at the festivities in the evening. She also liked to play pretend. It was easier to deal with her problems if she pretended she was someone new every day. On a new adventure or quest.
    • Her penchant for stealing started early. She was always attracted to shiny objects. Even things of no value. There was almost a compulsory need to take them.
    • When her mother learned of her stealing, she taught the girl which things were valuable and which were not. So, Tallulah started swiping things every night while her mother made the rounds.
    • Unfortunately, she was caught one night. Her mother tried to take the blame, but her boss wouldn’t hear of it. So, reluctantly, she allowed Tallulah to be thrown out. Not without tying a bit of the stolen gold to the inside of the girl’s dress.
    • Tallulah found herself roaming the streets as a feral child, stealing what she could. She returned to the establishment, but her mother turned her away. She quickly learned she was on her own and would have to make her own way.
    • A few weeks later, she noticed a band of traveling performers. They were nomads, and people enjoyed their songs and dances. However, Tallulah merely saw an opportunity. The jewelry and costumes they had were unlike anything she had ever seen. She wanted desperately to know where it was from. So that night she snuck into their wagon. She was caught again, but instead of being thrown out, the performers took pity on the small, grimy child and kept her. They nicknamed her ‘magpie’, because of her attraction to shiny objects.
    • Her life took a turn for the better. She began singing and dancing with the traveling troupe. She had a natural talent for acting, performance, and lying. She loved reinventing herself over and over. Being someone new everywhere she went.
    • But she was also used to picking people’s pockets. Steal a couple of extra coins here and there, and bat her eyelashes real nice so that people would donate even more (though they didn’t know they were being swindled too).
    • This continued for a few years. Tallulah honed her craft and became a performer in her own right.
    • But soon enough, she was caught. And her troupe left her behind. Solidifying the idea that Tallulah had absolutely no one to rely on. She had to take care of herself.
    • She freed herself (through methods she’s not proud of), and became a performer again. Taking up a new name and persona. She got so good at swiping things that she could do both at the same time. She was well known for her mesmerizing performances. The Starling, they called her. However, she believed magpie was still more appropriate.

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    ...And when they try to cage you...

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    • When Tallulah was just shy of twenty years old, she was caught again. After a successful evening, she was cornered in the hallway by a young man perhaps five or six years her senior. He realized she had stolen from him.
    • There was a back-and-forth. But instead of hurting her, the young man encouraged her to join the Stygian Guild. He happened to be a thief as well and believed that Tallulah could shoot even higher. And Tallulah found herself entranced by him.
    • But, still wary, she refused and fled. However, the young man, Carrow Brollot, was persistent. And they played a game of cat and mouse for nearly a year. Carrow did his best to earn her trust. Until, against her will, she found herself falling for him. As he would find himself at all her performances. Over and over.
    • She was caught again and realized her identity as the Starling had come to an end. Carrow came to her rescue, and she finally caved.
    • She quickly became involved in the Stygian Guild and climbed the ranks as a known thief. She and Carrow were a match made in heaven. Tallulah was quick and stealthy and Carrow was ruthless. Where one was found the other was not far off.
    • They were known for traveling throughout Solas. Pretending to be new people everywhere they went. It was necessary, especially as they grew in notoriety.
    • At first, they were close. Lovers even. But soon Carrow grew angry and restless. Perhaps it was madness. Perhaps it was greed. Perhaps he was threatened because Tallulah was quickly becoming a better thief than he. The young woman couldn’t tell you which. But the man she was once so fond of quickly turned his wrath on her.
    • She was a captive. A pawn in his ever-increasingly dangerous schemes. Gone was the suave, charming man, and in his place was a monster more terrifying than any she had seen. He only wanted her to be his little pet. To retrieve what he wanted without question.
    • He refused to even touch her anymore. Unless it was to slap her.
    • She had no one to call for help. Even those who knew turned a blind eye. She was utterly alone, just like before. And this time, there were no magical performers to save her.

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    ...Grow Wings

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    • There was a large-scale heist Carrow wanted to pull off. Tallulah was an important piece of it. And she took a risk. She sabotaged the heist. Taking the items with her, and leaving Carrow to rot.
    • Carrow was furious with her. Vowing to hunt her down and kill her.
    • Instead, Tallulah took everything she could and fled. A wanted criminal in numerous cities, she forged new papers and a new identity.
    • But she has many enemies, very few friends, and no real place to hide. And there are only so many lives you can take on before one of them catches up with you.

    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
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    extra

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    thieves

    
    
    
    

    sammy rae

    
    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    
    

    connections

    
    
    
    

    misc.

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    • aaaaaaa
    • aaaa

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      connections

      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      

      Carrow Brollot

      
      
      
      

      A vicious flame. Carrow and Tallulah were passionate, reckless, and explosive. At first, Carrow was a devoted, charming, and loyal lover. He practically worshipped the ground that Tallulah walked on. Meanwhile, Tallulah found him infuriating, and wonderful. She felt truly safe for the first time. So much so that she was able to overlook some of his more violent tendencies. Until he turned on her and became her living nightmare. She got the best of him for now, but she's still reeling from his betrayal, and wondering if she'd ever really be able to get rid of him if it came down to it.
      

      
      
      

      
      
      

      
      
      
      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      

      Seraphine Azzara

      
      
      
      

      The woman who made a mistake that led to Tallulah's entire existence. They now have an estranged relationship, with Tallulah not having seen her mother in over two decades. She holds deep resentment and anger towards the woman who kicked her out to keep her job, but she still quotes things her mother said to her.
      

      
      
      

      
      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      
    • 
      
      
      

      misc.

      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      

      Faction

      
      

      Currently a member of the Stygian Order. She joined via Carrow Brollot, who put his name in the ring to get her in. She hoped to have access to more information, better victims, and more adventure. She’s still tied to the faction, but she’s gone undercover now that Carrow is out for her head. The faction would recognize her even today, and that makes her nervous. Any one of them could rat her out.
      

      
      

      
      
      
      
      

      
      

      Status

      
      

      In order from past to present. Tallulah was born into low society and spent much of her early childhood slumming in the streets of Sirocco Sands. She learned most of her skills in the backwaters. Self-taught, as well as taught by life itself. When she became more prolific, she evolved into a wanted criminal, and it’s the status she has lived in for over a decade.
      

      
      

      
      
      
      
      

      
      

      Opinion On Royalty

      
      

      Tallulah is firmly against royalty. It has been the source of her misery for her entire existence, and she would be happy to see all of them burn into a fiery pile of ash. In fact, that’s next on her list once she takes out slimy Carrow Brollot.
      

      
      

      
      
      
      
      

      
      

      Opinion On Piracy

      
      

      Sword swinging is very sexy. And Tallulah is well acquainted with piracy. She has spent most of her life thieving to get by and has no interest in doing things differently. Perhaps it’s the thrill she gets from taking things that aren’t hers, or maybe it’s just that she doesn’t know how to do anything else.
      

      
      

      
      
      
      
      

      
      

      Extras

      
      

      Pinterest
      

      
      

      
      
      
      
      

      
      

      Arc Ideas

      
      

      
      

      • Tallulah is very unmoored. I’d love to see her forced to work with others and learn to trust them. She’s used to handling things alone, and believing she cannot rely on anyone.
      • She’s done a lot of shady things in her life. I definitely feel like at some point Tallulah’s past may catch up with her. Either in the form of Carrow or one of the other numerous people who happened to be a victim of her skilled fingers.
      • I think her being captured again would be her worst fear. I’m not saying it should necessarily happen, but she’s also wanted almost everywhere. So I wouldn’t be surprised if a bounty hunter tried to turn her in for a big prize.
      • Maybe having to confront her past. Her mother or the troupe that left her behind.
      • I’m definitely more of a… I like to see what happens as the plot progresses. So these are some thoughts but I swear I’ll have so many more fun ideas as we get farther in the process.

      
      

      
      
      
      
      

      
      

      Further Communication

      
      

      Yes, of course! I'm super fascinated by this roleplay, so I'd be happy to join later, or even come up with another character if needed.
      

      
      

      
      
      
      

      
      
      
      

    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    
    

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  ♡coded by uxie♡
  
  
  

 

[aropeach]

Ginevra Inglewood

# The Matchmaker

# Kaitlyn Dever

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

scroll

❝

Fear is the most divine emotion. Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood.

Nora Hurston

The Belladonna

nestoria.

full name

nestoria camille lenoir

nicknames

ness ; nessie

age

twenty four

d.o.b.

september fourteenth

birth place

the cascades

sexuality

bisexual

pas de deux

tchaikovsky

01.

visage

height

64 in. // 162 cm.

weight

135 lbs. // 61 kg.

hair c.

umber brown, medium and wavy

eye c.

grey-blue, almond shaped

faceclaim

irene manco

02.

psyche

INTJ // Architect ; Witty, Sarcastic, Independent, Introverted, Observant, Creative

It is facile to traverse life without question when living in luxury. Parents play God teaching their young their way of life and thought, intricately sculpting the soft clay that is their being. The word of power and religion provide easy-to-follow regulations, standards, and belief systems for the general population to internalize. Why would one ever retaliate knowing that if they prove one element distasteful, it would unravel their very sense of reality? Especially when that reality is one of powdered noses and finely pressed linen with breakfast in bed. Any beggar on the streets of Zenith would trade places with her in a heartbeat, in blood if need be (and she knows that they have). Yet, she can't help but wonder.

Nestoria's wondering would be the death of the Lenoir family, at least that's what her mother says. Intelligent in nature she has a thirst for knowledge and experience that may only be quenched in the quiet corners of her mind. This yearning is not for political endeavors or academic prosperity but a longing for exploration and independence. A grand horizon, kissed by the Sun herself, so easily viewed through her window, yet forbidden to grasp from the confines of her golden enclosure. Though she never cared much about rules, anyway, so why would she start now? And she much prefers the danger of retaliation over socializing with the pool of elitists that make up the majority of high society.

Known for her schemes and uncaring disregard for authority, she has ruined more than a few partnerships with renowned families and promising suitors. Truth be told, she isn't great at communicating with others. Her presence is like a snow-covered statue, beautiful from a distance but icy and unreachable up close. She has a habit of stating facts without sugarcoating, and her honesty, though unintentional, often comes across as aggression or a lack of respect. Emotional and deep conversation is almost impossible since she keeps others' emotions at arm's length to prevent them from getting anywhere near her own. She is a master of deflection, her sarcasm and sharp tongue leaving others fumbling to keep up. This way, she remains the unchallenged ruler of her carefully guarded world, the fear of betrayal driving her further into isolation.

Instead of relying on others to alleviate her pent-up feelings, she finds solace in her artistic endeavors. Her art is a symphony of colors and textures, speaking the words her lips cannot. In times of distress, strokes of deep, brooding hues and rigid markings consume the pages of her sketchbooks; alternatively, feelings of joy provoke bright and vivid creations that reflect the lightness of her spirit. Every piece was a window into her inner world, a raw and honest expression of both her wildest dreams and her deepest sentiments. Through her art, she found a language that transcended words, allowing her to form a deep and meaningful connection within herself.

Should anyone manage to burst through her cold exterior, she reveals a warmth that is both intense and genuine. Though she struggles to articulate her feelings, her loyalty speaks volumes through her thoughtful gestures and quiet support rather than grand declarations. This only makes her acts of affection more meaningful, demonstrating a sincerity that words could never fully capture. Like a tightly sealed jar of honey, her sweetness is immense but the seal proves difficult to break open.

likes

painting, archery, tea, natural water sources, flowers, sailing, horseback riding, flying, mischief, blackberries

dislikes

large gatherings, gossip, routines, pie, unnecessary rules, coffee, being treated like a child, egotistical people

fears

natural disaster, betrayal, being compared to her older sister, commitment, not being in control

03.

history

CHAPTER ONE : ECHOES OF THE UNWANTED

Crack.

CHAPTER TWO : CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT

CHAPTER THREE : AN ULTIMATUM

CHAPTER FOUR : THE BREAKING POINT

CHAPTER FIVE : THE LEVIATHAN

04.

gallery

05.

connections

Lady Marie Lenoir

Mother // 46 // Alive
to be written

Lord Gabriel Lenoir

Father // 52 // Alive
to be written

Gisèle Anna Lenoir

Sister // 29 // Alive
to be written

Juliette Aubert

Caretaker // 63 // Alive
to be written

06.

miscellaneous

Status

high society

Opinion On Royalty

to be written

Opinion On Piracy

to be written

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[.V1LLAINISM._]

• THE MARAUDER.
• THE CUPID.

• 
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  XI.
  The Marauder
  scroll.

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  whip it
  devo

  
  VISAGE
  NAME: Tedros Seaworth
  NICKNAMES: N/A
  AGE: 32 years old
  GENDER: cis-male
  ORIENTATION: heterosexual ;; unhinged womanizer
  ROLE: thief, deviant, jack of all trades
  
  APPEARANCE
  APPEARANCE:
  FACECLAIM: (optional)
  
  PSYCHE
  PERSONALITY: a paragraph or more
  
  

  traits

  
  hello traits here
  
  

  ailments

  
  hello ailments here
  
  TIME MACHINE
  HISTORY: can be as short or long as you’d like.
  
  
  
  

  GALLERY​

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  Tedros Seaworth.

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  XI.
  The Cupid
  scroll.

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  whip it
  devo

  
  VISAGE
  NAME: Freya Nakamura
  NICKNAMES: Frey
  AGE: 31 years old
  GENDER: cis-female
  ORIENTATION: mostly disinterested - coaches don't play
  ROLE: Cupid
  
  APPEARANCE
  APPEARANCE:
  FACECLAIM: (optional)
  
  PSYCHE
  PERSONALITY: a paragraph or more
  
  

  traits

  
  hello traits here
  
  

  ailments

  
  hello ailments here
  
  TIME MACHINE
  HISTORY: can be as short or long as you’d like.
  
  
  
  

  GALLERY​

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  Freya Nakamura.

  
  
  
  
  designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
  
  

 

[elspeth]

very very very rough but oh well... do not look too hard as i make some touch ups over the next few days to fill in ~plot holes~
...also the music won't work so pls just imagine the sweet music of hozier as you read this LOL​

scroll

scroll

❝

Such a waste of a girl, such rumination. I am obsessive. I contain nothing but the replay. I am blood and blood and replay.

L. M. Basile

the sabo-teur

SELIN.

Full Name

Selin Kaliev

Alias(es)

Seda Kaliev, amongst others

Age

26

D.O.B.

November 11

P.O.B.

Antares

Faction

None

Status

Low Society

Sexuality

Unlabeled

As It Was

Hozier

01.

visage

height

At 5'5", Selin does not stand out in crowds for her height. She is of perfectly middling stature, neither so tall nor so short that she is easily memorable.

Physique

Selin's figure reflects the physical demands of life on the streets - lithe and strong, there is an athletic, practiced grace to every movement, every step she makes. Her profession has permitted her to permeate even the wealthiest of circles, and her services come at a steep cost. Her proximity to such vast fortunes has prevented the characteristic hollow cheeks and protruding ribs of poverty from encroaching on her body, but she is no glutton - living in the lap of luxury does not interest her.

Hair

Selin's thick, dark hair is and tightly coiled and unruly when not managed properly. She often styles it in quick but intricate braids, or wears a scarf to keep it out of her face, as well as to protect herself from the sun and unwelcome stares. She has quite an attachment to her hair, particularly for someone so keen on remaining unseen, preferring to keep it long and suffer the inconvenience of maintaining it rather than cutting it to make her routine easier. The final shred of her humanity, maybe, a callback to the ties that once bound her to others.

Eyes

Her hazel eyes are shockingly light. She regularly lines her eyes with kohl just underneath her waterline, giving her eyes a narrow appearance. Without it, she has a more doe-like, wide-eyed look, but she is no innocent. Her piercing stare is that of a caged beast: piercing, assessing, and ultimately desperate. There is an equal sort of gauntness that haunts her gaze, as though some corner of her mind is elsewhere, constantly re-visiting a long-forgotten past.

Faceclaim

Jessica Parker Kennedy

02.

psyche

A ghost of a person, Selin moves from town to town, never staying in one place for too long. While she calls Antares home, there is nothing that requires her to stay in the port city around the clock. She enjoys the impermanence of it all, drifting across the nation until she is given a new assignment; unencumbered by ties or strings, she can simply lie in wait in the shadows and watch. In fact, "gifted" may be a better choice of words than given. She has learned to enjoy her work as much as anyone can enjoy what she does. She appreciates the control it gives her, and is fascinated by the way a simple, unassuming herb can drain the life force out of a person's eyes in mere minutes. A ruthless perfectionist, when she is given a mark, she does not stop until the deed is done. It is not about the profit, although a coin purse full of gold does make life (even in the shadows) much easier. No, it is about creating the perfect poison, about orchestrating the most technically sophisticated end to a life. She is not above using a knife, or even her bare hands, in matters of life and death, but there is something satisfying about careful hours spent tending to her plants, crushing herbs, and dissolving and diluting colourless, odourless liquids to be poured into perfect glass vials of all shapes and colours. She has spent over a decade burying the shame of her trade, the horrific path to her present - just because her work is not done in the light of day does not mean that there is no dignity in her profession. No, there is an elegance, a grace, or so she tells herself as she creeps about the world.

She is quiet, deathly so. A master of stealth, Selin excels at passing through crowds sight unseen. She is accustomed to going unnoticed, having been trained to make herself smaller and less remarkable, a perfect chameleon. When someone does notice her, or when they go so far as to speak to her, it catches her off guard, and she often requires a moment to collect her thoughts and return to the world of the tangible, of the living, before responding. When she does find herself being observed, she gets cagey - she is not used to it, being in the limelight, and prefers the comforts of the anonymity of life on the periphery. She is no leader, and prefers to carry out orders rather than conjure them up herself. Flighty, she runs at even the slightest chance of danger. This life is about self-preservation, and she will not extend a hand to those who are too weak to realize the truth. This is why she makes it a point to know as little as possible when it comes to her targets. Whatever they have done to deserve their fate, it is of no importance to her, or so she convinces herself. Sure, every now and then, she feels the tantalizing tug of curiosity within her, but she is quick to snip any ties, emotional or social, between her and her victims. She cannot afford to empathize, cannot face the consequences of sympathy. If anything, she is offering them a kinder exit from a cruel world, death at the hands of the soft kiss of arsenic or the subtle slowness of foxglove, rather than the sharp edge of the blade. The true north of her moral compass fundamentally compromised after years of cruelty at the hands of Madam Adelina and life on the unforgiving streets of Antares, Selin's words and actions are just another means to an end: her survival, if only for another day.

Nevertheless, however emotionally detached Selin is, she still finds herself fiercely loyal to the man who saved her from death. She knows that love, that hope, makes her vulnerable, and yet she cannot tear herself away from her past, no matter how hard she tries. Her debts with be the death of her, she is certain, and should she fail to carry out her plot against the Leviathan's maiden voyage, her life will surely be over, but the end will not come painlessly, nor will it come quickly. As such, she does not smile. In fact, she is not sure if she can feel anything at all.

likes

Silence. Puzzles. The dark.

Dislikes.

Swimming/deep water. Itchiness. Loud noises.

fears

Drowning. Failure.

03.

history

1. FLEDGLING

Selin's arrival into the world was unremarkable. She was simply one of two new mouths to feed, an empty-handed hatchling with nothing, not even down, to provide protection from the harsh new world she had found herself in. Only buried recollections of warm, calloused hands and a lullaby in a language she now rarely speaks serve as proof that, at some point, her family was more than just her sister - her mother did exist, however briefly their lives intersected. Otherwise, her early memories are plagued by sickness, the blight that had passed over Antares like a thick fog, infecting everything and everyone it could. Some had called it a cleansing, ordered by the gods, while others had deemed it a curse, but regardless, few remained whole in its wake. Her parents had been no exception, and their bodies had quickly joined the piles of corpses that lined the narrow streets of their impoverished neighbourhood - like the others, they were soon wrapped in cloth and dropped unceremoniously in the ocean, sinking, sinking, sinking, until the blackness of the sea embraced them.

Selin and Seda joined the legions of orphans that roamed Antares in search of scraps. The sisters became more than a unit; no, they were an entity, moving almost entirely in synch, two puppets controlled by the same strings, the sinew beneath their skin being pulled by the same set of hands. The girls lived hand-to-mouth for years, scavenging where they could, living on the scraps of others. Selin was better at surviving than Seda, despite the fact that they were both equally adept at poaching purses swollen with coin and staying out of sight. She had no qualms when it came to stealing to protect her sister, to ensure that they had enough food, enough money, for one more day, one more hour, enough to hopefully keep them alive long enough to find a way out of this place. People were animals, and animals were not above stealth and violence. But no, Seda was different; starry-eyed and hopeful, she felt remorse, and remorse was weak - dangerously so - when survival meant preying on the misfortune of others. That was what killed her sister in the end, Selin knows, her weakness - but the reality didn't make her absence ache any less, didn't fill the new hollowness that yawned within her. She had almost given up, given in, to that same weakness too. She had almost allowed the rats to finally gnaw at her fingers, and the dampness of the dark alleyway where she had found Seda's body to swallow her whole. She would rot there, hand in hand with her sister; they had entered this world together, and they would leave together, too. Of course, everything changed when Idris found her, half-dead and dreaming of drowning in her sister's long, dark braid, a black, salty river that carried her body out to the sea, where her mother's bloated, once-soft hands clawing at her daughter, a silent, bubbling scream ringing in Selin's ears. Now she knows better, knows that grief is a heavy burden best set aside and forgotten.

2. NOVITIATE

It had been hard at first, yes, undoubtedly so, but the worst parts of it had since become so blurry, so faded, that they hardly mattered anyways. Certainly, she could still remember those initial few months, how she had sweat through her clothes and scratched so hard at her skin that small rivulets of blood had appeared, small tidal pools of red gathering under her nails. She still had the scars to prove it, thin, pale crosshatch patterns all over her calves and forearms from where she had furiously attempted to shed her stinging, flaming flesh. She could remember how her vision had begun to go, how she had wept as the pinhole of darkness in front of her had slowly engulfed the entire room, ultimately bathing her in nothingness. How she had dragged herself along the floor in search of water, in search of salvation, before the pain had consumed her body entirely, before all she had been able to do was writhe along the stone like a snake, unable to breathe for fear her lungs would set aflame. How she had begged and pleaded until her voice was ragged, and then until it was no more, until language was no more and there were no words for the feeling that had taken over her body.

It was an endless cycle. Success demanded repetition, crowed Madam Adelina, and eventually Selin was too weak to fight, too weak to do anything at all other than allow herself to be smeared in foul-smelling salves and spoon-fed bitter tonics. Soon, however, she started to find a particular peace in the agony that inevitably wracked her body, an almost religious sacredness in this new ritual, a holiness in the time spent gasping for breath as she pressed her burning cheek to the floor in a desperate attempt to extinguish the fire that raged on the surface of her skin. She could feel nothing, and so she became nothing, stripped of any and all reminders of what had happened before, what had once been. She could only know what what was now, and now was simple: bone-twisting, unimaginable, all-consuming pain, pain that did not leave space for anything else.

While she lay there, passing in and out of consciousness, Madam Adelina told her of the girls who had come before her. How this practice was older than both of them, older than young Selin could ever begin to imagine. The girls before them had once had a title, a legacy since lost to time for the rest of the world, but a small handful of them still dotted the continent, poisonous spores released on the wind to settle in the four corners of Solas, destined to bloom in between the darkest, most depraved jagged cracks of the world. Young girls, raised on a carefully crafted diet of poison and antidote, in the hopes of achieving immunity against some of the most powerful botanical toxins known to man. Sometimes, when she found herself deep in feverish dreaming, Selin saw them watching her from the corner of the room, her beautiful, poisonous kin, their pitiless gazes demanding to know if she was enough, if this pathetic creature was really one of them, a true vishakanya.

Eventually, she became familiar with the soft, gentle cradle of hemlock, like a mother singing her babe to sleep; the soothing, numbing embrace of aconite, the bittersweet kiss of black hellebore, the cleansing, almost baptismal touch of stavesacre. She learnt how suffering could be quick, how a single drop of venom could make the world vanish in a matter of seconds, and how it could be prolonged, how decay and dying could be engineered to last for weeks, months, and even years. As she grew stronger, strong enough that her eyes only watered and her nose no longer bled, and eventually so strong that she no longer felt the urge to give in to the pain, strong enough that she could survive, Selin learnt more. Madam Adelina showed her how to craft sleeping draughts that would gradually slow the heart until it no longer remember how to beat; tinctures that, when mixed into a goblet of wine, could cause permanent blindness; tonics that brought about pain and suffering in spades, depending on the dose, easily concealed in food, wine, and perfume. There was a grace in poisoning, a precision, one that she came to appreciate as she spent hours watching, learning, absorbing. Evolving into something stronger, a creature more shadow than human, a set of skilled, deft fingers with only one purpose: to kill, silently.

3. MASTER

The message is short, as with any other missive detailing a new assignment. The less detail, the less evidence, and Selin's clients have no interest in having their dirty laundry exposed to all. They come to her for her secrecy, and she has no interest in falling short of such lofty expectations, nor her own careful standards. Her reputation is spotless because she does not have one; she is a shade, a shadow, a warm breath of air blooming on cold glass, only to disappear in seconds, the sound of a creaking floorboard only for you to turn around and discover that there is no one there. She is nobody, she is nothing, she is a ghost. She prefers it that way, prefers living in the dark, prefers to watch rather than to participate.

The completion of her voyage will be perilous to us all. Prevent it.

Inside the envelope, there is a boarding pass for the Leviathan. He knows she is already here in Zenith, that he did not have the time to call her back home, and it is a stark reminder that he is intimately familiar with her location at all times, always, even when she has not returned to Antares since Madam Adelina's death three years ago. Like a well-trained dog, there is a strange comfort in feeling the familiar tug of the leash. How he obtained the pass, she does not know, but it does not matter. It is registered under her name, her real name, which indicates that he has left her no margin of error. She cannot afford to fail, or she risks the thick of a noose around her throat. Treason, surely, if not for murder. She could evade capture, of course, disappear into the shadows and run from the law, just as she always has, but she would not be able to run far from him, and the threat of what fate would certainly await her should she not carry out his orders is one worse than death. And so she boards the ship.

04.

gallery

05.

connections

Seda

Selin's deceased twin sister. The pair were inseparable in their youth, carefully entwined in history and spirit, two sets of identical, curious eyes and matching braids. Selin still sleeps on the left side of the bed, and sometimes she swears she feels her sister's freezing heels press against her calves in the middle of the night, a ghostly reminder of a childhood spent sharing everything, including a narrow bed and paper-thin sheets. The only thing they share now is a name - after all, it is impossible to trace the steps of the dead.

Idris Kaliev

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, hence why Antares natives know better than to speak Idris Kaliev's name above a whisper; even then, the wiser ones know that every wall of the city has ears, and that any man worth his salt who finds himself as deep in the illegal trade business as Idris will surely make it his business to know when someone is brewing a plot against him - and to ensure that such schemes are quashed as soon as they begin. Although she is no daughter of his by blood, Selin is the closest thing he has to family. They say the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, but regardless, family means debt, loyalty, no matter the price, and Idris has made it clear that Selin will owe him for the rest of her life. He has her under her thumb, and, like a dog, she comes when she is called, no matter how far she must journey to be at his side and do his bidding.

Madam Adelina

Beautiful in her old age (and equally as dangerous), the grand dame of Antares, Madam Adelina, was instructed by Idris to take Selin on as her protegée. It was not her first time stepping into the role of the teacher; she had indentured many a young, dirty street urchin and shaped her into a tall and fine young woman, perfectly versed in pouring drinks, catching the gaze of a sailor across a bar, and convincing him to empty his pockets in the hopes of getting the chance to see what hidden treasures lay beneath her bodice. This, however, was a different kind of education. Although Madam Adelina never loved any of her girls, there was an unmistakable pride in the way she gazed at Selin, her most precious creation.

06.

miscellaneous

Arc

Selin has been conditioned to avoid tenderness at all costs. The closest thing she has felt to love throughout most of her life has just been various forms of twisted manipulation, of abuse disguised as care or the desire to make her stronger. Gentleness is foreign to her; it has been so long since she has been touched with softness. It would be interesting to see another character (perhaps one who reminds her of her late sister - a found sibling dynamic?) bring out Selin's softer side, a part of herself that she has buried for so long, she's not sure if it even exists within her anymore. Of course, she would want those she cares about to be safe, and would make it her goal to make them stronger, just as Idris and Madam Adelina did for her - she must eliminate the weakness within them (to the point of making them her protegé(e)?). Whether or not she realizes that gentleness is not synonymous with being marked for death is up to fate to decide.

She is also accustomed to working alone - while she obeys the orders of her clients, it is her sole responsibility to ensure her task is completed. She is quite the perfectionist when it comes to her poisonings. It would be interesting to see her work with others to complete a heist, etc., and see her develop new loyalties (however long it may take for her to trust them), fidelities that are not between a servant and their master, but between equals.

Contact

LOL yes! I had such fun crafting Selin - even if she is not selected to join the group, I would love to be contacted if another role opens up, or if another opportunity to be involved in the story comes up.

♡coded by uxie♡

not sure if i messed up the coding somewhere or if the font is too dark but code is by uxie < 3​

 

[krumbone]

• .
• .
• .
• .

• 04

  03

  02

  general

  agnate

  full name

  Horace Neumann

  age

  35yo

  gender

  Male

  sexuality

  Straight

  date of birth

  March 27th

  place of birth

  The Capital

  The Agnate

  ethnicity.

  This world's equivalent of British (also has the accent)
  
  

  occupation.

  Unemployed, has been struggling to hold down a job. This might be the one.
  
  

  known languages.

  English
  
  

  etc.

  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.
  
• 04

  03

  visage

  01

  agnate

  ht

  5,7"

  wt

  174lbs

  hair

  Dirty blond, shaggy, he tries to comb out his split ends with what he has on hand (his fingers) but it's always got a little bit of scruff to it.

  eyes

  A dusty blue, bags always hang under them, sleep deprived or not.

  body

  Average looking, not exactly chiseled but not a dad body either.

  mods

  None, he's a vanilla guy.

  fc

  Bo Burnham (yes) (just make the clothing a little less anachronistic)
• 04

  persona

  02

  01

  agnate

  • fillersss
  • .

  • likes & dislikes

    misc

    likes

    Dogs, a little more than cats. He has a bit of a sweet tooth surprising for his age. He likes apples, honeycrisp are his personal favorite. He can party, it won't kill him, but he needs a grace period of at least two days before the next one. He has a special appreciation for comfortable couches, especially those crafted out of well-made leather. He smokes, not that it's his favorite thing to do. He has however garnered an appreciation for ornate smoking pipes, it might be a lifelong dream of his to own one. He likes the smell of dust as well.

    dislikes

    Mud, it gets everywhere. Sand, it gets everywhere. Wet sand, it gets everywhere. He can handle fish, just not when raw. He just finds the smell especially unpleasant. He doesn't like things that are too bitter or sour (except for alcohol, of course). The idea of eating leftover cuisine discomforts him, to a concerning degree. If his food is cooked then he'd like it piping hot on the plate. Mints are the only "candy" he doesn't enjoy. He has an avid dislike for dried prunes. Any adrenaline-inducing activities are out of the question for him.
  • likes & dislikes

    misc

    hobbies

    
    Drinking, taking smoke breaks. Reading? Most (if not all) of his books are half-finished. Sometimes when he's not tipsy he writes poems, although he finds a sufficient fireplace to torch them at the very next day. If he's having a splendid enough afternoon he might just attend a play.
    
    

    habits

    
    He picks at the cuticles and sides of his hails when he's stressed. He says "bloody hell" to the point where it's automatic, it's sort of a catchphrase. He has a terrible posture that might be getting to him, if it is then he certainly hasn't admitted it yet. He feels uncomfortable when he stares at people for too long, eye-contact or no.
    
    

    fears

    
    Getting kicked off the ship and being technically fired, again. Having to visit his mother's grave on her anniversary. The Captain, but just a little. Failure. Heights. Falling back down.
    
    

    fun facts

    
    He wants to play a tabletop game again sometime, the last time he did was with his mother and father. It was really fun, he even has a custom made set of dice, unfortunately he doubts anyone has the time for that kind of stuff nowadays. He bought a compendium on mushrooms once, he was planning on learning how to forage as a hobby. That never came to fruition, though, so it sits gathering dust in a bookshelf. Something similar happened with him and gardening. Perhaps he could one day return to those lost botanical pursuits. His mother tried to push him into learning an instrument once, he chose the violin before giving up. He faintly remembers the motions of "Mary Had a Little Lamb", just barely though. He thinks of starting the piano sometimes in an attempt to honor his mother's memory, it's a bit too hard for him to play the violin. Pianos are expensive though. He counts the amount of swigs he takes from his flask, and also counts the amount of cigarettes. Currently his record is three days and five hours of cold turkey before the withdrawal started getting unbearable.
    

  personality

  Sarcastic, he's wry and has a tendency to be on the pessimistic side. Though he saves the snark for those close to him who he knows won't take it personally. He has a special place in his heart for his family that he has been neglecting for a while. Although it might not seem like it he's a bit of a softie. He's an obedient worker and follows orders, although he has a tendency to grumble quite a bit when he's tasked with something he doesn't like. His flask will always be on hand, secondarily a pack of cigarettes as well.
  
  Horace is very much a grump in the mornings, more so than normal. A bit of a glutton, bribery with snacks tends to be affective when you need someone to cover your shift, he will pretend to be reluctant. He's not very shrewd, but knows enough to tell when he's pushing his luck. His specialty is cold hard common sense, believe it or not. A flawed man.
  
  Status: Wealthy, his family runs a lumber business. Although he isn't quite high society.
  
  Reputation: Bad, although of too much public relevance. His brother is seen as the more suitable bachelor for any wayward women looking to be trophy wives.
  
  Opinion on Royalty: Okay? They govern the country he lives in. To be frank Horace doesn't like thinking about politics too much.
  
  Opinion on Pirates: Terrified, pirates steal, brutalize, and cackle maniacally! (Horace pov)
  
  DM NOTES!!!!!:
  
  Okay, Horace is a guy to behold. Maybe he embraces his crappy poetry and somewhat alleviates his alcohol issues. Of course I want him to backslide, sometimes! The amount of suffering he tanks I think might be a teensy bit under the average, but other than that good ol' moral peril is never bad. We could always have convenient casks of alcohol laying around, that's always great. It also would be interesting to see how the rest of the cast interacts with his very apparent problems. I'm just letting you cook for the most part .
  
  
• history

  03

  02

  01

  agnate

  David Neumann

  He loves his dad, his dad maybe loves him back. It's hard to tell sometimes.

  Marie Neumann

  He loved his mother very dearly, she returned that love tenth fold. He'll be a better man in her memory, hopefully.

  Lukas Neumann

  His brother, they were best friends as children. They don't talk much nowadays.

  coded by natasha

  the first part of life

  Horace grew up in a wealthy family running business. After his brother left for boarding school he spent his childhood and teenage days in solitude. His young adulthood drifting away from his parents. And his later adulthood drowning in alcohol.
  
  Horace is sure that the hole he was trying to fill was bottomless.

  halfway through it all

  Horace stares at the dainty name carved into cold stone, he had missed the funeral a week earlier. Marie Neumann, well loved wife and mother. You will be missed- Bloody hell.
  
  Well loved.
  
  Well loved?
  
  He shakily inhales, trembling with grief or the cold or something in between. He kneels, his knees squelching in wet mud. He was too busy passed at the local bar to attend her burial. The days after? He was too inebriated to make the trip over, or too unconscious. Didn't have the bloody time, he'd tell himself.
  
  Maybe he was too scared to see what they'd say, too afraid. Took a pint, maybe a shot or twenty. Then, next morning-
  
  Horace runs his hand over the smooth stone of her name, his mom's name. The skin around his fingernails are frayed and bloody. He bites back a sob, "Oi- Hi, ma-" a hiccup- "I-I'm.. I'm here."
  
  Hah, he did end up... end up being here, in the end.
  
  He falls over, throws his arms around cold stone like a warm breathing body, like it's a warm breathing body. Like someone would tuck their oh so familiar head into the crook of his shoulder. He couldn't really forget, could he-?
  
  Her grave doesn't reply, nor stir. The only breathing he hears is his own, drowning in the rain.
  
  No river lake or ocean of booze could cast him away this time, would cast him away this time. Because the thing about grief is, it doesn't follow nor chase, it grows, inside, seething. Digging millions of teeth into you, stays and waits until you pluck each and every needle-point tooth out. Millions, millions of teeth-
  
  In the end, you're still bleeding.
  
  Horace screams. For a while, cries a river of his own.
  
  He doesn't go home that night, or the next, or the night after that. The night after-
  
  The door creaks open.
  
  "Hi dad," he winces, his voice is as scratchy as his throat. They both stare for a little, a while maybe. It's two in the morning, both are sleepless. One may be more-than-buzzed, the other? Maybe the other learned from a notable non-example. The night is young and dark as ever, no stars will save them. The world will swallow them whole. He's sure of it.
  
  He doesn't know what it was, maybe the downpour that returned with vengeance cold and ruthless. His puffy eyes and pitiful sniffing? Maybe he looked more genuine this time. Maybe he had gone through enough. Maybe all was magically forgotten and they could run into each other's arms like the storm never weathered. Most likely, David Neumann was too tired to kick up a fuss about it. All of it.
  
  All Horace knows is that day, he was let into the house left of a home, wordlessly.

  what happens next?

  "Alright, now remember not to-"
  
  "Not to do anything stupid."
  
  "Yes."
  
  Horace stands at the doorway, bags packed.
  
  "Break a leg," his dad says for lack of words.
  
  Horace thinks of replying with "I will," but decides against it. It's too early for snark.
  
  "I will," he says it anyway. He looks his dad in the eyes, David Neumann looks back. Right, no fuck-ups.
  
  The ocean, huh? The smell of salt reminds him of tears too much lately. Even then, he was never an ocean person. Hey, maybe it's time he learn? If scrubbing the deck counts.
  
  Well, he might just meet a kraken or something. Well, meeting a kraken or anything other than standard-sized fish is the worst case scenario. He laughs a little at himself. He might just roll up a journal and squeeze it into a bottle, if glass bottles float like they're supposed to in theatre. Maybe the vast waters would be as kind to ley the paper yellow a little before it gets shored up by a poor bloke's hands. He sighs, the sun crawls like dread over the horizon.
  
  Horace takes a swig of his flask.
  
  Maybe he's a little reluctant when he boards his ride rolling towards the harbor, he might just be scared. The sea never called him.
  
  The sea doesn't call him, but Horace will walk into the jaws of The Leviathan all the same.

left

 

[floralmoon]

calanthe de braose

• 1
• 2
• 2

• The Perfumist
  
  
  Full Name : Lady Calanthe de Braose
  
  Nickname : none
  
  Age : 23
  
  Date of birth : The Nineteenth day of the Fifth month - May 19th
  
  Place of birth : Sirocco Sands
  
  
  
• Personality:
  
  
  Vices : conceited, heartless, merciless, pitiless
  
  Virtues : equanimous, inventive, precise, thorough
  
  Deepest Fear : being caught and put on trial
  
  Motivations : to advance or protect herself by all means necessary
  
  Quirks/Habits : twirling her hair, picking at her nail beds, absentmindedly tapping, has RBF
  
  
  
  
• Background:
  
  
  Calanthe always dreamed of taking her mother's spot on the throne, but she was born with a disadvantage, an older sister. As a child, she would spend majority of her time frolicking around the garden, learning about the various flora that lived there from the gardener. He advised her what plants to stay away from, and which ones smelled the best. In the years she spent being taught, her interest in using the scents to create perfumes for her family and anyone else who may be interested.
  
  While her sister would be spending her time doing some sort of royal training, Calanthe was mixing plants & oils, hoping to find the perfect combination. She would take the product as the family traveled across the city for meetings and things alike. Much of the attention would be on the Duke & Duchess, and then moved on to her sister. Calanthe spent most of her time being overlooked, occasionally being dismissed by others as just another commoner.
  
  As time went on, Calanthe's jealousy and hatred towards her sister grew, festering inside, creating a monster. Yes, she was older, but why wouldn't they have trained them both for taking the throne in the event that her sister passed away? What if something awful happened? That could never occur though, security was every where and there was no way that they'd let something so devastating happen. But maybe, just maybe someone on the inside could take down her older sister.
  
  Many nights, she spent locked in her room, perfecting the sweetest smelling perfume, one that her sister could not refuse. She used the knowledge over the years from the gardener of what pairings worked the best, and thought of one last ingredient that would make the scent to die for.
  
  White Oleander.
  
  The flower was locked away along with many other poisonous plants to prevent them landing in the wrong hands, but nobody would've thought the hands would come from inside the castle. Accessing this part of the garden wouldn't be very difficult, the gardener left the keys hanging on the wall inside the shed. After retrieving them and entering the forbidden garden, Calanthe cautiously clipped two of the flowers off the vine, placing them into a cloth bag, and headed back inside.
  
  In the morning, the family woke, a celebration was in order for the eldest sister as it was her birthday, turning 28 was a big deal apparently. As the family smiled and laughed, they moved to the living room where many presents awaited for her sister. A scowl formed across Calanthe's face, she never received anything of these proportions for her birthday, but that might change when she becomes an only child.
  
  Calanthe gifts her sister the perfume, giving her a warm smile, "I created this scent just for you, one of a kind." With a step back, she watches as her sister spritz the perfume on herself, raising her wrists to her nose in order to get a deep sniff. "It is absolutely divine, Calan-" Her voice cuts off, as she begins coughing, "It's a tad strong though... Of course, there had to be some sort of insult to a creation from Calanthe. In a huff, she takes off to her room, it wouldn't matter much longer though, she would never have to hear from her sister again.
  
  As night falls, the de Braose parents stand at the side of the eldest sister's bed, she had fallen extremely ill, the two think about what could've caused this when Calanthe entered the room. "You. You did this." Her mother charges towards her, eyes narrowed, finger pointed straight at her. She stands there, had her plan actually worked? Would she now be the heir to the throne? She gives her mother a shrug, "It was the only option. Her face rests in a cold & callous position, showing absolutely no remorse. Her mother continued to berate her when the family doctor spoke up,
  
  "She's gone.
  
  The news broke of the passing not soon after, this caused an uproar amongst the commoners who found the de Braose's favorable, many formed a mob and approached the estate. Calanthe’s parents rushed around, trying to figure out what to do and how to calm their people down. The people outside the doors chant her name, she stands at her window staring down on the townsfolk, with a smile on her face, "They love me." She quietly said to herself.
  
  The next day, her parents barged into her room, immediately they disowned her, claiming that she had ruined everything. Her father hands her a ticket, "You will board this ship and never come back. If you do, you will be killed." Calanthe wraps her hand around the ticket, with a smile on her face, it was so nice of them to consider her safety despite the crime she had committed. Her bags were waiting for her at the back door, as she grabs them and walks out, she sees the gardener, and gives him a smile and wave. The man had nothing to say, and just shook his head at her in pure disappointment.
  
  
  
  
  
  

code: @s e v e n

 

[Purris Hilton]

• o
• o
• o
• o
• o

• fashion

  lady gaga

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  01

  name

  Adelaide Ellison

  02

  Current Residence

  Sirocco Sands

  03

  age

  27

  04

  place of birth

  Kestyr

  05

  gender

  Female

  06

  status

  High Society

  07

  occupation

  Modiste

  08

  role

  The Modiste
• hair colour / style

  
  

  She has golden blonde hair that is fine textured but naturally wavy and she keeps it long so that she may style it as she pleases. She often curls it and styles it in an updo, or leaves it down. But as she is high society, she keeps up with their trends.

  eyes

  
  

  She has downturned sunny blue eyes. While working, you will likely not see them which is a good thing for her as it is hard for her to hide her emotions behind them.

  build

  
  

  Her skin is pale and creamy with a rose colored undertone. She has a slender build, with not much. She has a bit of curve to her from her mothers side. fc gabriella wilde

  attire

  
  

  Often wearing her own work, she adores frills and laces. She is often seen wearing dresses that she designs, and won't be caught dead in anything less. What the dresses are varies on what is trending for the season, as it is her job after all to keep up with these things.

  modifications

  
  

  none, she is a lady! (except for an ear piercing, of course)

  scars / markings

  
  

  She has no permanent scars yet, but often has minor scratches on her hands from working with needles and threading all day.

  weight

  130 lbs

  height

  5"6
• • o
  • o
  • o
  • o
  • o

  • virtues

    Passionate

    Diligent

    Resourceful

    Personable

    Independent

    trait six
  • vices

    Obsessive

    Egoism

    Distrusting

    Gossipy

    Materialistic

    trait six
  • likes

    anything sweet

    flowers, mostly roses

    happy clientele

    sun rises

    gossip

    lace and frills

    large gardens

    poking people who disturb her peace with the needle

    dislikes

    closed spaces

    wearing all dark colors

    rain

    body odor

    rude clients

    the uncouth

    politics
  • strengths

    dressmaking, sewing, charisma, blending in, styling, bargaining,

    weaknesses

    anything involving fighting, seriously, this girl has never touched a sword in her life

    reputation

    Her reputation is in high standing amongst the nobles, as she is their primary source for their modiste needs and is of high society herself. She has made sure to keep her past life under wraps, and does not speak of it to anyone, ever.

    fears

    Falling fatally ill, relying on others completely, becoming like her mother, thieves, being outcasted in high society
  • hobbies

    dressmaking (duh)

    going to the theater

    attending social gatherings

    gardening and picking flowers

    reading, when there's time

  Flowers grow back, even after they are stepped on.
  
  So will I.

  personality

  
  Adelaide can be both kind and unkind, depending on what you have to offer her. Life is transactional and that is all that she knows. She doesn’t always expect money, sometimes a word about another, perhaps an entertaining tale, a future favor, or even trading services; however, it will need to be worth her skills. Growing up where she did, she does have a soft spot for some, particularly women in need. Brothels are no place for a young girl, and the tattered clothes and tear-stained faces of the women have left a permanent mark on Adelaide’s consciousness.
  
  The work she does is very important to her. Unlike some others who go do their duties and come home for the day, no consequences to the quality of their work, Adelaide’s work is paraded around. It is of utmost importance to her that the quality of what she makes is up to par for her clients, as they are her walking advertisements. Oftentimes her clients are of royal or noble standing, and she makes sure that for her most high-paying clients she will stay up all day and night to finish any fittings or projects needing to be completed. She is a little obsessed with her work, and submerges herself into it during times of duress.
  
  She admires, is even envious, of the royal life. But part of her deep down feels conflicted for the severe gap between high society and those whom she was brought up amongst. Adelaide has a strong sense of her moralities, and enjoys her life now.
  
• first stage of life

  
  tw: implications of abuse, prositution, and death
  
  Adelaide has grown up in a rather unusual manner for someone currently in her standing. Her mother was a harlot in a brothel, her father’s origins unknown to her. It was not uncommon for the women working to have children, of course, since that is the nature of their business. Alyce tried to love her daughter as much as she could, but she was also a reminder of the pain she had suffered, the hand she was dealt. Alyce knew it wasn’t Adelaide’s fault, and never treated her as such, but it was hard for her to raise a daughter when she was a daughter that was never raised herself.
  
  From the beginning, Adelaide learned from her mother and the other women working that everything has a cost. Including love. Her mother tried to shield her from the horrors of the reality of the life they lived, but after not long the curtain could no longer contain the monsters that lived behind it. Adelaide would see how the men would treat the other women, if not her own mother, and connect the ties. Nights would begin with laughter and wine and end with exhaustion, bruises, and money left on the bed. It was tireless, neverending work. From this young age, she knew that this was not what she wanted for herself.
  
  As Adelaide matured and grew into herself, she felt more eyes and more pressure on herself. A growing weight with her growing body. She was running out of time. Adelaide’s mother, Alyce, was always taken with her golden hair. Alyce’s hair was a mousy brown, so her daughter’s hair coming out such a light shade surprised her. Adelaide knew when the time came once she had matured, her mother would be thinking about the money they could make with both of them working. She was her daughter, but ultimately she felt like cattle for Alyce, someone to take her spot once she grew tired. As a result, Adelaide tried to separate herself from the house as much as possible, offering to do chores and other tasks needing to be done for the ladies. Anything to get out, really. Her favorite thing in the world was going to the dress shop. She adored looking at all the newest fashions, feeling the fabrics, seeing the designs and the craftsmanship. The dresses were feminine and beautiful. Oftentimes, she’d spend more time than necessary in there and this didn’t go unnoticed by the shop owner. Vesta, an elderly woman with no children of her own, admired the passion she saw and would show her techniques if Adelaide was nearby when she had people in the shop for fittings.
  

  second stage of life

  
  Alyce grew older and wearier, her body more worn, her patience running thin. Adelaide, in her mind, had a duty that wasn’t much different than royals, a familial duty that she was not fulfilling. Adelaide could feel the growing anger from her mother, but her resistance only grew stronger. She wanted to please her mother, but the images of the women coming out of the rooms with bruises on their legs were flashing like an inescapable prison. The overwhelming feeling became too much for her, and in the midst of the night while her mother slept, she grabbed what she could and ran out as fast as she could. There was only one place she knew to go, and that was the dress shop. Vesta was shocked to see a red-eyed Adelaide in front of her shop at early sunrise, but ushered her inside at once. Having no one to share her skills with of her own, Vesta taught Adelaide everything she had known and took her on as her apprentice.
  
  Adelaide went through the stages of her adolescents with Vesta, sponging her knowledge and learning everything she could. Vesta was happy to have a daughter she didn’t have. She had spent most of her life working, unable to find time to marry and have children, so she felt this was her second chance at that. A chance to carry on her legacy. Adelaide adored Vesta and worked in the shop, the gossip with the girls and everything that came with it.
  
  Unfortunately though, when it grew to be much colder than anticipated winter and with Vesta’s elderly age, she grew very sick. Adelaide was devastated. Her cough was deep and rumbled, skin cold like the air outside. Although they made money from dressmaking, Vesta was very generous with her prices and affordable. She ran her business for the love of the people, not the money; she loved nothing more than to see a woman feeling more beautiful than when she came in. This didn’t put her in a good spot financially when she grew ill and Adelaide knew it. Days grew into weeks, Vesta's condition worsened and so did Adelaide’s anxiety. She sat beside the woman she had grown to care for so deeply, holding her wrinkled hand in her own youthful one, rubbing the top of it for comfort as she coughed. Vesta looked up at her, a glint in her eye, and on her deathbed told Adelaide to go on, be a dressmaker, and be one of the best. She smiled softly at the girl she had grown to love and care for and gently nodded off to sleep forever.
  

  third stage of life

  Adelaide was never quite the same after Vesta passed, but she took her words to heart. She worked on her craft, her designs, her reputation, everything. Eventually her passion earned her a position as the modiste for the prestige nobles if they chose to come to her shop in Sirocco Sands. As time has passed, she’s developed a sense of herself, her own style of being a dressmaker. Her day to day life looks much different than it did as a young girl as well. She fills her day with mindless gossip, listening in on those who come into her shop and muttering about those unfortunate enough to come under fire from their sharp tongues. It’s her guilty pleasure these days. She now enjoys a life of privilege she never would’ve dreamed of before, but sometimes a feeling eats away at her. Is this truly what Vesta meant by becoming the best, or did she perhaps mean something else?
• gallery

  why did she board?

  Being a notable modiste has it perks, but sometimes it has it's downfalls as well. The king has ordered Adelaide to board the ship (regardless of her tendency to get seasick) to travel the lands to research and gather new materials from other lands, and attend to the nobles and their dressmaking and modiste needs. Adelaide doesn't mind this part of course, and it's nice that he entrusted her with such a big task; she feels honored, but wishes the task maybe involved more land and less sea.

  opinion on royalty

  She is neutral, but leans towards favoring royalty. Adelaide tends to favor those who can favor her, and nobles and royals are typically the ones who can do so.

  opinions on piracy

  Absolutely terrified, and definitely feels they could use a good fitting. Doesn't understand why people need to steal, rather than work for what they need.

  gm notes

  Adelaide has grown up in a lower standing, but now is among high society, I would like her to question herself and where she comes from, question her morals and what she knows now. She's a bit of a snob now (who wouldnt be hellooooo) but I would like her to be put into positions where she is forced to question what she values as "success" or you can just ruin her life im ok with that too tbh
  
  pinterest board for darling gao
  
  spotify playlist
  
  

left

right

coded by natasha.

 

[M4R5]

• ⚔︎
• The Oathbreaker

• 
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  Adrius Blackwood

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #the oathbreaker

  
  
  
  
  

  #tom hardy

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  ♡coded by uxie♡

  
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  • .
  • .
  • .
  • .

  • 04

    03

    02

    general

    Adrius

    full name

    Adrius Blackwood

    age

    Thirty Three

    gender

    Male

    sexuality

    Heterosexual

    date of birth

    December twenty-second

    place of birth

    Gossvein, Kestyr

    The Oathbreaker

    alias.

    Ivan Fitchner
    

    pronouns.

    He/Him
    

    occupation.

    Former Guard for The High Judge Quinlan
    

    known languages.

    English, Latin, Basic Gaelic
    

    status

    Low Society and Wanted, has a warrant out for his arrest by The High Judge Quinlan
    

    reputation

    In the Cascades, he's deemed as just another cog in the machine among the ranks of his fellow guards. However, back home in Kestyr, he is viewed as an outcast and an omen alongside his family
    

    faction

    None
    
  • 04

    03

    visage

    01

    Adrius

    ht

    6'0"

    wt

    185 lbs.

    hair

    Brunette - His hair is dark brown, nearly black and typically kept at a medium length. Often tousled or pulled back to keep it out of his face during work or battle. Though, while plotting his escape, in efforts to help hide his identity - Adrius took a crude knife to his locks and half hazardly chopped away at its length, leaving it in uneven disarray.

    eyes

    Grey Blue - His gaze is withdrawn, often unsettling those who meet it, as if he’s peering into the very depths of their soul in search of hidden truths or weaknesses. A prominent scar runs vertically across Adrius’ left eye, a deep, jagged mark that begins just above his eyebrow and ends on his cheekbone. The wound did not blind him but it left the skin around it slightly puckered and discolored.

    body

    Adrius' face is angular, with sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a slightly hooked nose that adds to his intense and somewhat intimidating appearance. Standing at around 6'0", his frame is tall and solid, with broad shoulders and a well-defined musculature that comes from years of working the land, hunting, and engaging in physical challenges. Adrius Blackwood possesses a lean, muscular build that speaks to a life of physical labor and survival in the harsh environment of Kestyr paired with the overwhelming work assigned to him during his enslavement to Quinlan.

    mods

    Adorned with intricate, ceremonial tattoos, each representing a rune or blessing tied to his family's schismatic beliefs. The tattoos are primarily black with organic patterns that flow across his chest, back, arms, and legs. These designs include symbols of protection, strength, and spiritual connection, with some elements appearing almost ancient in their style. A distinctive ritualistic brand on his back that takes the form of a large bird, often interpreted as a raven or a crow. The bird's wings are spread wide, with the tips reaching near the edges of his shoulders. However, the scar is more than just a mark; it carries deep spiritual and cultural significance.

    fc

    Tom Hardy (Taboo)
  • 04

    persona

    02

    01

    Adrius

    • fillersss
    • .

    • likes & dislikes

      misc

      likes

      Nature, wilderness, herbalism, family bonds, silence, hot stew, brandy, hare or venison, the smell of campfire and spices, sparring, rainy days, liturgical music, tobacco or opiates, and a hot bath with herbs

      dislikes

      Outsiders, authority, dishonesty, deception, crowded places, sailing, the ocean, the royals, unnecessary cruelty, cats (he doesn't trust them), strong perfumes/colognes, and satin fabrics
    • likes & dislikes

      misc

      hobbies

      
      Adrius' free time was stripped from him the moment he was forced to join Quinlan's ranks, however he found small comforts in things such as whittling (carving small runes and totems from wood), meditation, studying runes and ancient texts regarding his family's beliefs, storytelling, and hunting
      
      

      habits

      
      Praying to the old gods, he has ritualistic routines in the morning and evening to keep in touch with his beliefs, speaking to the fire (though, it never responds), and people watching
      
      

      fears

      
      Drowning, Quinlan capturing Cassandra, The Royals and the power they hold on society, and losing his freedom
      
      

      strengths

      
      ⧾ Being a survivalist, Adrius retained the sharp instincts and heightened senses from living off the land in Kestyr.
      ⧾ An unyielding resilience that allows him to withstand hardship and bounce back from adversity.
      ⧾ His resourcefulness makes him skilled at making the most of limited resources, whether it's crafting tools from the natural environment, using herbs for ailments, or finding unconventional solutions to problems.
      ⧾ His physical prowess from his muscular build allows him to endure long hours of strenuous work, engage in combat with skill and ferocity, and navigate difficult terrain.
      

      weaknesses

      
      ⧾ Does not know how to swim
      ⧾ Basic reading comprehension with English
      ⧾ Adrius' self-imposed isolation and deep-seated distrust of others limit his ability to form new alliances or seek out help when he needs it.
      ⧾ His emotional repression leads to periods of intense internal struggle and emotional outbursts, which can cloud his judgment and make him vulnerable in situations that require a clear mind.
      

      Opinions

      
      Adrius harbors a deep-seated disdain for royalty and those in positions of power. Growing up in the harsh environment of Kestyr, where survival is a daily struggle, he has little respect for those who are born into privilege and luxury without having to work for it. To him, royalty represents the worst kind of arrogance—those who rule from afar, detached from the realities of the common folk, imposing their will on others without understanding their struggles. Adrius has a complex view of piracy, his opinions are influenced by the practical realities of survival and the blurred lines between legality and morality in his world. He has minor admiration for pirates due to their adaptability parallels his weariness of their unpredictable savagery.
      

      Gao's Questions

      
      What I would like my character to encounter/experience/develop in this roleplay are: I'm very open to just about anything, the grittier the better.
      ⧾ Adrius isn't necessarily a vengeful person, but he would gladly sacrifice his own self for the sake of ending Quinlan's tyranny. Thus, sparing others the same fate he's been dealt and for those who have been wronged by Quinlan.
      ⧾ I'd like to see how Adrius would fair around various members of society, as he was essentially a feral with his family in Kestyr, but forced to reshape himself to stay under Quinlan's radar.
      ⧾ Cassandra and Adrius' dynamic of two escapists, whom are from very opposing spectrums of society trying to survive together offers plenty of opportunity for serious and comical interactions with others. Especially with the two pretending to be newlyweds.
      ⧾ With Quinlan being a hateful man, he's bound to make Adrius out to be the 'kidnapper who stole his bride'. Trying to have Adrius their tracks and sleeping with one eye open is bound to push him to the brink of insanity.
      ⧾ I wouldn't even be opposed to Quinlan finally getting his hands on Adrius and making him suffer for his treason.
      ⧾ Adrius is aware of Quinlan's plan to murder Valerian Flores, though he's not had confirmation whether or not Quinlan had successfully done so. But he chooses to keep this knowledge to himself and doesn't share it with Cassandra.
      ⧾ With Adrius' unorthodox religious beliefs, I'd like to see how it would play out with the Covenant of Aethera's followers - would they condemn him?
      ⧾ If Adrius somehow manages to have a happy ending, I'd assume he would never return home out of fear that his family was exterminated by Quinlan's forces, but find home with a group of close comrades that he considers family.
      
      If not selected in the first round of applications, I am willing to be contacted at a later date if the GM feels there’s a fitting opportunity for my character to make their grand arrival: Absolutely, yes.
      
      

    personality

    
    Adrius Blackwood is a complex and multifaceted personality shaped by the harsh realities of his upbringing and the traumas he has endured. His demeanor is often apathetic and guarded, creating a man who has learned to keep his emotions in check and trust sparingly.
    
    Stoic and Reserved: A man of few words, often keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself. He rarely shows vulnerability, preferring to maintain a calm and composed exterior, even in the face of danger or emotional turmoil.
    
    Loyal and Protective: Beneath his reserved exterior, Adrius is fiercely loyal to those he cares about. His protective nature is most evident in his relationship with his family, particularly his siblings, and now Cassandra. He will go to great lengths to safeguard those he loves, even if it means making personal sacrifices or engaging in violence.
    
    Morally Complex: Adrius’s moral compass is not black and white. While he has a strong sense of duty and honor, he is willing to blur ethical lines when necessary. His actions are guided more by pragmatism and the need to survive than by strict adherence to moral principles.
    
    Haunted and Guilt-Ridden: Being deeply haunted by the death of his twin brother, Tactus, the guilt weighs heavily on him, affecting his interactions with others and his self-perception. He often grapples with feelings of self-loathing and regret, which can lead to moments of introspection and inner conflict.
    
  • history

    03

    02

    01

    Adrius

    The Blackwoods

    The relationship with his family may be strained but it is deeply rooted in love, loyalty, and the burdens of responsibility. As the eldest of six children, Adrius and Tactus had always felt a strong sense of duty toward their siblings and parents, especially given the hardships they faced as outsiders in their village. Losing Tactus felt as if he had lost a part of himself and Adrius has never felt whole since.

    Cassandra Flores

    Alias: Flora Fitchner, "Wife"
    Adrius is apprehensive of Cassandra with initial distrust, but there is a growing respect for her with their unspoken bond forged through shared adversity. He feels a sense protectiveness towards her, being in her debt from inadvertently saving his life. Now, boarding The Leviathan with the façade of being honeymooners, he finds the idea of sharing such an intimate space with Cassandra unsettling. Yet, he understands the necessity of their arrangement - this voyage is their only chance at freedom. It will be a true test of their companionship.

    Quinlan Wright

    Adrius' servitude to Quinlan was built on power dynamics, fear, and manipulation - with Quinlan holding the upper hand and Adrius forced into a position of reluctant subservience. Despite finally escaping Quinlan's clutches, Adrius regrets not having made more of an effort in ending Quinlan's cruel reign over the judicial system. But he also fearing the mad Judge's inevitable retribution for Adrius' betrayal.

    coded by natasha

    The Ritualists

    
    The Blackwood family is a large and enigmatic clan, known for their deep-rooted unorthodox beliefs and the eerie aura that surrounds them. Consisting of about six children, with Adrius as the eldest and his twin brother Tactus by his side, they live on the outskirts of their village in Kestyr, physically and socially removed from the rest of the community. Their home is a modest, weathered structure surrounded by a dense farm land that brims with herbs, spices, and plants of mysterious origin. The family is self-sufficient, tending to their land and relying on the natural resources of the swampy region.
    
    The Blackwoods are marked by their ceremonial tattoos, which each member receives upon reaching adulthood. These tattoos are not mere decorations but are believed to hold the power of ancient runes and blessings, connecting each family member to their ancestors and the natural world around them. The intricate designs of these tattoos tell stories of their lineage, their beliefs, and the blessings they seek to carry with them throughout their lives. Outsiders in their own village, the Blackwoods are viewed with suspicion and fear. Rumors of black magic swirl around them and their practices set them apart from the more conventional villagers. They rarely participate in the communal activities of the village, and when they do, their presence is met with a mix of curiosity and unease.
    
    Despite the isolation and the whispers of dark powers, the Blackwood family is close-knit and fiercely protective of one another. Their bond is forged not only by blood but also by the shared burden of being different in a world that doesn't understand them. Each member of the family plays a vital role in maintaining their way of life, contributing to the family’s survival in the harsh, unforgiving environment of Kestyr.

    The Sacrifice

    
    The arrival of Quinlan’s men was not heralded by fanfare or commotion but by a quiet and unsettling presence. Clad in dark, imposing uniforms, the recruiters moved with a cold andcalculated efficiency. Their faces obscured by the brims of their hats and the shadows cast by the setting sun. The village of Kestyr, already quiet and withdrawn, seemed to hold its breath as the men made their way to the village center, their boots sinking into the damp earth with each step. Adrius and Tactus stood proudly at attention, hardy arms folded behind them with unyielding stances. The sight of the recruiters sent a chill down their spines, their instincts telling them that nothing good could come of this visit. The twins exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them—whatever was about to happen, they would face it together.
    
    The leader of the recruiters stepped forward, his voice cold and authoritative as he informed the brothers of their selection. Quinlan had ordered the recruitment of one young man from the village and they had chosen the Blackwood twins. But there was a cruel twist: only one of them could go. The other would have to die. The air seemed to grow thicker with tension as the reality of the situation sank in. The twins’ mother, a woman of quiet strength and resilience, stood in the crowd, her face pale but resolute. She knew better than to intervene; Quinlan’s men were not to be trifled with. The other siblings watched from the shadows, their wide eyes filled with fear and disbelief. Adrius and Tactus stood facing each other, their hearts heavy with the weight of what was about to unfold. They had been inseparable since birth and their bond forged in the shared hardships of their family’s life in Kestyr. But now, that bond would be shattered by the cruel hand of fate.
    
    Tactus fought with all the strength he could muster, his movements driven by fear and desperation. Adrius, though equally skilled, moved with a grim determination, his mind racing as he tried to find a way to end the fight without killing his brother. But the reality of their situation left no room for mercy or compromise.
    
    The fight was brutal and heart-wrenching, the sounds of their struggle echoing through the stillness of the swamp. Bloodied and exhausted, the twins fought on, their bodies pushed to their limits. But in the end, it was Adrius who gained the upper hand. With a final, agonizing blow, he overpowered Tactus, his heart shattering as he delivered the fatal strike. Tactus fell to the ground, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Adrius knelt beside him, cradling his brother’s head in his hands, tears streaming down his face as he whispered a final, tearful goodbye - adamant on gifting his twin a merciful death. His jaw clenched and his muscles tensed as he wrapped his hands around Tactus’ throat. Time seemed to slow as Adrius applied pressure, fingers trembling with the force of his grip. Tactus' breath hitched and his body convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw in air until there was a sudden uneasy silence enveloping the two and surrounding onlookers.
    
    The recruiters looked on with cold indifference. The village remained eerily silent, the weight of the tragedy hanging heavy in the air. The Blackwood family gathered around their fallen son, as they mourned the loss of Tactus. Adrius, now marked by the blood of his own brother, stood over Tactus’s body, his heart hardened by the cruelty of the world. He had won the fight, but the victory felt hollow, leaving him with nothing but the bitter taste of loss and the burden of survival.

    The Servitude

    From the moment he is forced into Quinlan's service, Adrius is thrown into a world where morality is twisted and survival means becoming a tool for a tyrant's ambitions. For the next eight years, Adrius had not just been any guard - he is Quinlan's enforcer, driven by his unflinching loyalty built on the harsh reality that disobedience or failure will result in a fate far worse than death. The burdened weight on his shoulders shapes him to becoming a reformed feral, but an adept right hand to be taken advantage of, in the eyes of Quinlan. With the threat of unimaginable consequences looming over his head, Adrius is tasked with carrying out orders that most of his brethren can't stomach, such as interrogation and torture, suppressing potential rebellions, and even murder in cold blood. While Adrius excels in his duties, the weight of the work takes a heavy toll on his psyche. He knows that each task further binds him to Quinlan’s service, stripping away pieces of his humanity. But his loyalty is exhausted and his obedience has been tested to its limits when Quinlan orders Adrius to have an overpopulated orphanage accidentally go up in flames. His reasoning being that there will be less mouths to feed and the real estate would be better suited for his business endeavors. Adrius boldly refuses the demand. This ultimately lands him on the ballot for the next group of executions.
    
    Though, it was no surprise to hear Quinlan's ramblings in the belly of the cells. Often visiting his prisoners for a quick fix to satiate his sadistic desires, whether it be to torture or force them to fight for his own entertainment. But the woman trailing behind him was unusual and unfamiliar to the captives. The prisoners clung to the bars of their cells, their faces twisted in fear and pleading. Crying for mercy and please for a fair trial as their hands reached through the iron bars at the woman and Quinlan. But Adrius stands apart from the rest, sitting in the shadows at the back of his cell. He does not beg nor plead. He does not reach out. Instead, he sits quietly like a dog beaten into submission, his fate seemingly accepted. The woman approaches his cell, taking an interest in him. Whether she shared Quinlan's cruel ways or she took pity on him, Adrius didn't move in the slightest, only to raise his gaze to the two silhouettes peering into his cage. "And what of him?" she asks, her voice soft but firm. Quinlan smirked, ready to spin his web of lies, "Ah, that one," he begins, "is a traitor of the highest order. A spy, no doubt, sent to undermine our efforts. He’s guilty of crimes beyond measure." Before Quinlan can continue, from the shadows, Adrius spits in Quinlan's direction. His defiance clear despite his dire situation. But Cassandra is is intrigued and sensing there's more than what's being let on, insisting that Adrius speaks for himself. Adrius remains silent with a clenched jaw. He knows that whatever he says will only lead to more fuel for Quinlan to set him ablaze later. But Cassandra’s insistence cracks his resolve. "I am here because I defied Quinlan’s cause," Adrius finally says, his voice low and steady. "Nothing more, nothing less."
    
    The following morning, the atmosphere is heavy with anticipation. A crowd has gathered to witness the executions, their murmurs filling the air as the first condemned man is led to the block. As the axe falls on the first prisoner, no doubt another innocent man whose thwarted Quinlan, Cassandra watches with uneasiness forming a weight in her stomach. When Adrius is brought forward, her discomfort turns to dread. Just as the executioner swings the blade, Cassandra cries out. Her voice rings out with authority, cutting through the noise of the crowd. The executioner hesitates, caught off guard by her command and Adrius, sensing the moment, flinches - the axe grazes his face. Instead of delivering a clean blow it leaves a deep, vertical gash across his left eye. Blood begins to fiercely pour from the wound and Adrius stumbles back, pain flashing across his face, as he's palming at the laceration in a desperate effort to cease the bleeding. The crowd gasps and Quinlan’s face contorts with fury, demanding the executions be postponed while he berates his bride to be into submission.
    
    That evening, while Cassandra quietly begins to formulate her escape, Adrius is nursing his fresh wound and contemplates his own fate. He knows he has to escape, but his thoughts are clouded by the events of the day and the throbbing pain in his eye. He doesn’t expect to survive the night. But as luck would have it, despite the fitful rest, he sees the light of day peering through his barred window. The plans are in motion, on either side of Quinlan's residence, both Cassandra and Adrius are risking the first opportunity to escape and to their surprise, they cross paths.
    

    The Leviathan

    Cassandra's first instinct is to demand his help -knowing she won’t get far without him. Adrius, initially reluctant, knows she’s right. Though, he doubts his ability to protect her, the spark of defiance in her eyes stirs something within him. Knowing the ins and outs of Quinlan's compound, Adrius hurriedly guides them through servants' corridors, weaving through the what once were his colleagues and ignoring their whispered concerns.
    
    The pair make their way to the bustling market, blending into the crowd as they steal clothes from numerous vendors. Adrius greedily snatching fabrics off tables and tossing them to Cassandra. For his self, a black wool long coat that hangs loosely down to his ankles. To compliment the coat, he crowns himself with a felt top hot, securing it lowly to aid in hiding his identity. They don new identities - Flora and Ivan Fitchner, two newlyweds embarking on their honeymoon as a guise to secure passage on The Leviathan, a ship bound for freedom.

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[Loomis]

• ⮚
• Melisandre Dumitru

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  Melisandre Dumitru

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  #the mutineer

  
  
  
  
  

  #WIP

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  ♡coded by uxie♡

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
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  • Jolly Sailor Bold

    Ginny Di

    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    01

    name

    Melisandre Dumitru
    

    02

    Pronouns

    She/Her

    03

    age

    Twenty-seven

    04

    place of birth

    Antares

    05

    gender

    Female

    06

    status

    Privateer/Low Society

    07

    alias

    Nagini

    08

    role

    The Mutineer
  • hair color/style

    
    

    
    
    Long curls of chocolate cascade over her shoulders, ending midway down her back. The curls a mix of tight ringlets and loose waves adding a nice voluminous look to her hair. When light hits her hair highlights of caramel peak through the deeper shades, giving her hair a natural shine and depth to it.
    
    

    eyes

    
    

    
    
    A blend of rich green, warm brown and golden hues mix together to create her hazel eyes. Her eyes used to have a soft sparkle to them, brimming with an excitement for life. Now there is a shadow of hate glossing over her eyes, her stare always piercing those who make eye contact with her.
    
    

    build

    
    

    
    
    Melisandre stands at an average 5'6, weighing roughly 125lbs, her build lean and agile; well-suited for the physical requirements of her life at sea. Toned muscles riddled with scars reflecting her strength and resilience. Her shoulders are broad enough to show her capability without losing that feminine shape. Her arms defined and powerful enough to wield her sword and lug heavy equipment around.
    
    

    attire

    
    

    
    
    Melisandre usually dressing in warm, earthy colors and striking shades of red. She is usually styled in her leather corset, laced tightly for support and style, a loose blouse underneath, leather trousers and her weather boots. A wide leather belt sits low on her hips, holding her sword, pistol and a few small pouches containing various items. A small leather strap hugs her upper thigh while carrying a small dagger. Depending on the weather she might have her jacket draped over her shoulders to add another layer of protection.
    
    

    modifications

    
    

    
    
    Ears pierced multiple times.
    
    

    scars / markings

    
    

    
    
    Melisandre's body is littered with scars and various marks from the harsh years, but the most notable is the scar on her stomach. A large, jagged scar runs the length of the right side of her stomach, the twisted skin still a darker pink hue.
    
    

    weight

    125 lbs

    height

    5"6
  • • o
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    • virtues

      Driven

      Courageous

      Resourceful

      Resilient

      Passionate

      Patient
    • vices

      Secretive

      Manipulative

      Distrusting

      Self serving

      Vindictive

      Envious
    • likes

      drinking

      winning

      star gazing on the ship late at night

      fishing, reminds her of her father

      the smell of gun powder

      exploring

      listening to sailors tales

      a good lay

      dislikes

      bad table manners, usually eats alone

      losing/not getting her way

      weak people, physically or mentally

      Fenix

      snoring, will sleep in the crows nest if it's bad enough

      overly friendly people, she doesn't trust their intentions

      asking for help
    • strengths

      shooting with her pistol, scrappy, swordsmanship, reading people, getting what she wants, knot tying, can hold her rum well, lying.

      weaknesses

      her temper, distrust, isolating herself, rifle shooting, not the best swimmer, rum and an attractive face.

      reputation

      Not known by many after her years spent in hiding as she regained her strength and plotted her revenge. To those who she has met, and manipulated, she she is reliable and hardworking and someone that they can count on.

      fears

      
      - Her biggest fear is that when push comes to shove she won't be able to handle Fenix how she should. She worries that her emotions will get the best of her and he will once again destroy her.
      - Never seeing her parents again. She misses their smiling faces, or even sending letters to them to let them know every detail of her current voyage.
    • hobbies

      fishing

      studying maps

      sailing

      star gazing

      reading

    How sweetly the fox speaks when it is being cornered by hounds.
    
    

    personality

    
    
    Melisandre can be described as a blend of fire and ice, flickers of who she once was trying to shine through her new cold and hard exterior. At her core, she is driven, her unyielding determination propelling her forward even if the odds are stacked against her. Her drive is not just a desire for survival and success, but an insatiable hunger for revenge and power, fueling her actions. She faces danger head one, not afraid of the risks that come with the path she has chosen to walk down. Whether it’s navigating treacherous waters or scheming against those who have done her wrong, she is unflinchingly brave and will never back down from a challenge.
    
    Easy to adapt to any situation, thinking quickly on her feet and using whatever she has at her disposal to try and turn the ideas to her favor. Her mind is sharp, always calculating ways to outplay those around her. If she faces a setback she will reset and push forward, always rising after being knocked down. Her experiences have hardened her, making her almost impervious to setbacks that would crush others. Throwing herself fully into whatever challenge that presents itself, her emotions intense and all-consuming. Melisandre has mastered being able to hide her emotions, keeping a cool facade on the outside to anyone that might be watching, revealing only what she wants you to see.
    
    She loves that she has the ability to pull the strings, play people, pit them against each other and twist their perception of things to see things through her eyes. Manipulation has become second nature to her, sometimes she even surprises herself at how easy it has become. She is extremely patient in her pursuit of revenge, playing the long game. She has no issue holding onto a grudge, letting her hatred build as she meticulously plots to seek action against anyone who wrongs her.
    
    
    
  • first stage of life

    
    In the bustling port town, Antares, Melisandre’s life unfolds amongst the maritime adventures and interesting characters residing in the town. From an early age she was captivated by the colorful tales told by the sailors and the dangerous adventures of pirates who frequented the local tavern. Her mother, Colette, a fiery personality wrapped up with soft features, worked at the tavern as a barmaid. Some would argue that a tavern is no place for a young girl to be seen in, but Colette thought it was important to teach her daughter how to work early on. At first Melisandre just helped with shipments, stocking the items in the back and organizing, but she quickly sweet talked her way into helping on the bar floor. Clearing tables, bringing drinks to customers, and more importantly listening to every word of the stories floating around the tavern. Everything about the lifestyle the sailors had infatuated the young girl. The treasures, the comradery, the passion, the courage. She wanted it, needed it.
    
    When she wasn’t working with her mother you could find her at the docks. Watching the ships come and go, breathing in the bustling life that surrounded her. She would envision herself boarding one of the ships with a crew, setting off on whatever new adventure their hearts desired and conquering any foe in their path.
    “Oye! Girl!” A gruff voice cut through the daydream clouding her mind. Melisandre looked around in confusion, unsure if he was actually talking to her or not.
    
    “Me?” She questioned as she slowly rose from the wooden planks of the dock.
    
    “Yer ‘round here enough. Make yerself useful.” He barked, his large arms gesturing her over to his ship. Her heart soared, it took everything in her to keep herself from audibly screaming in excitement. He started by showing her how to tie knots, explaining how it was important to be able to secure the ship or take off at a moment's notice. Then he gave her a tour of the ship, explaining what things were called, how things functioned, spinning a tale or two in between the tour. She drank it all in, wide eyed and mesmerized. She spent the rest of the afternoon in the Captains quarters studying the various maps, trying to sear every note he wrote on them into her memory. Melisandre practically floated home on a cloud, clutching the scrolls the Captain gifted her.
    
    When the Captain told her they were setting sail she felt like she was losing a piece of herself. She had spent every free second of her time on his ship, learning anything and everything he and his crew were willing to teach her. The crew had become like a second family to her and she couldn’t imagine not spending her days on the ship. Melisandre stood on the edge of the dock in the wee hours of the morning and watched as the ship pulled out of the harbor, waving them off with tears in her eyes. She was beyond thankful for everything they had shown her, but a part of her was disappointed they didn’t want her to go with them. She was so desperate to feel the ocean hair whipping through her hair as she sailed on the open seas, she knew that’s where she belonged.
    
    Her obsession only grew more from that point forward. Targeting her father, Anatolie, now to give her even a fraction of the life she desired. Anatolie was a fisherman, his vessel definitely wasn’t the awe striking force the other ship was, but it was a start. She woke up early every morning he would leave for a trip, begging him to let her accompany him. He would always dismiss her, stating that a woman's place was not on a ship, but she didn’t relent. Melisandre began to wait for his return at the dock, offering help, telling him that she could learn whatever she needed to. Once again, she was denied.
    
    Tired of waiting for her father to give in to her, she decided to take matters into her own hands. The night before his next excursion she packed a bag of essentials and crept out of the house, making her way down to the docks. She found an empty wooden crate and stowed herself out of sight and settled in for the night.
    
    She woke to the sound of the small crew bustling about, prepping the ship before it eventually pulled out of the harbor. Melisandre waited until she was sure they were a good enough distance from the shore before she revealed herself. Anatolie was absolutely furious with her, the two went back and forth, shouting at the other for them to see their own perspective. After a few minutes of their screaming match silence fell over the ship, the two staring at each other in contempt.
    
    “You really want this, don’t you?” Anatolie finally said softly, realizing just how much this meant to his daughter.
    
    “More than you’ll ever know.” Melisandre said, her eyes pleading with her father to give her a chance. The old fisherman caved, his daughter's eyes melting away his hesitation.
    
    “Alright then, get to work, and don’t let me regret it.” Anatolie winked at her. Melisandre squealed in triumph and jumped forward, wrapping her arms around her father in a suffocating hug.
    

    second stage of life

    
    Melisandre sat on the edge of the docks, basking in the little sunlight that was left as the sun continued to dip farther in the sky. She had just finished cleaning the fishing boat and needed a few minutes to herself before she went home to get ready to work at the tavern for the night. She opened her eyes and let out a satisfied sigh as she gazed out at the ocean before her. Something in the distance caught her eye, the silhouette of a massive ship crept closer and closer to the docks. Her posture straightened slightly as she continued to watch the ship roll in, watching as the crew ran about the vessel like ants preparing to dock.
    
    Once the ship was docked the crew quickly began unloading, but one person above them all caught her eye. He was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, she watched him move about the ship with confidence, commanding his crew with ease. He looked over and locked eyes with Melisandre, her cheeks instantly flushing with heat. She got up as casually as possible as to make him realize how flustered that moment made her and made her way up the docks.
    
    The tavern was packed full tonight, multiple new ships had docked at the harbor and the staff was overwhelmed in trying to keep up with the patrons. Melisandre found herself looking towards the door every time it swung open, feeling a slight pang of disappointment when she didn’t see who she was hoping for.
    
    “Can I get a drink?” A smooth, deep voice cut through the chatter in the bar. Melisandre turned to see who was speaking and she felt her breath hitch as her eyes landed on him.
    
    “Of course,” She cleared her throat and leaned against the bar, “what can I get you?”
    
    “Your best pint of rum.” He flashed her a smile that made her knees weak. She turned away quickly in hopes he wouldn’t see the bright pink in her cheeks as she prepared his drink.
    
    “Anything else, mister…” Melisandre cocked a curious brow at him.
    
    “Fenix.” He took the drink and gave her a wink as he sipped it before joining his crew.
    
    After that night Fenix came to the tavern every night around the same time, the two would chat in between her tending to others in the bar. Eventually he invited her back to the ship, they stayed up late talking, sharing dreams, ambitions, stories until the sun came up. Fenix was unlike anyone she had ever met. The way he carried himself, his sense of humor and the way he made her feel was unmatched. He saw the same hunger for adventure, the same yearning for freedom that had led him to this lifestyle in her that he had. Under his guidance she began to explore his version of this life in greater depth.
    
    Their bond grew as they shared in dangerous escapades together, and with each successful raid she felt herself becoming more entangled in the pirate life; not just as accomplice but as willing participant who relished in the risks and rewards. Melisandre admired his skill and the way he lived life by his own set of rules. The two became inseparable, their love fueled by the excitement the seas brought them.
    
    With the gold they amassed from their crusades she eventually purchased her own ship. Fenix was over the moon with pride, she had come so far and was chasing her dreams. He helped her build a crew and together they set off to dominate the seas.
    
    Their first voyage as Captains of their own ships was a monumental success. Deep within a hidden cove they stumbled upon an ancient treasure trove, exceeding their expectations. Chests overflowing with gold, rare artifacts, gems and jewels scattered about the area. The crews reveled in their fortune, singing songs of victory, cheering with one another. Melisandre stood there soaking it all in. Watching her crew celebrate together, plan how they would spend their riches, the bond growing stronger between them with their first big success under their belt. Her heart swelled with pride, not only for herself but for the work of the two crews.
    
    “You did it!” Fenix rushed to her side and scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around.
    
    “We did it. I never would have made it this far without you. I owe everything to you, my love.” Melisandre gushed and gave him a quick peck on his cheek as he set her down.
    
    “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. Come with me, I want to show you something.” He whispered and tugged at her hand, leading her farther into the cove.
    
    “What is it? They are almost done loading the ship, I don’t want to keep them waiting.” Melisandre tried to peer past him to see where he was leading her to. He suddenly spun around, gripping her waist and pulling her into him.
    
    A guttural gasp escaped her lips as she felt a sharp, searing pain in her abdomen. Her eyes widened as her mind tried to figure out what was happening. She looked down to see his blade buried deep in her stomach, suddenly feeling the warmth of her blood as he seeped through her clothing.
    
    “W-why?” She choked out, tears streaming down her face.
    
    “Why?” he echoed, his tone laced with condescension. “Because, love, in this world, it’s every pirate for himself. You thought this life was all about freedom and adventure, but the truth is, it’s about power—and taking it when the opportunity arises. You were useful, but you’ve outlived that usefulness. And your ship, your crew, and all that gold? It’s mine now.” He gave the blade a twist before ripping it from her.
    
    Melisandre cried out weakly and crumbled to the ground, clutching her stomach. As her vision faded she watched as he made his way back to the ship, leaving her for dead.
    
    

    third stage of life

    
    Years have passed since Fenix’s betrayal. Melisandre stood in front of a dirty mirror, eyeing her reflection as her hand gently traced over the large scar across her stomach. Anger boiled deep inside her the longer she stared at the reflection. She yanked her shirt back down and turned away, focusing her attention to the mess of scrolls on her bed. Various maps and letters littered the comforter, the maps marking Fenix’s last seen locations, the letters containing updates on her family.
    
    After she saved herself from the Cove and was able to recover she had a decision to make. Crawl back to her parents and admit that she failed, that she was tossed aside and taken out like a lame horse. Or, she could stay in the shadows of her supposed death, and plan her revenge.
    
    Melisandre Dumitru died that day. She temporarily abandoned the old her, her family and identity, making a vow to return to her parents once her revenge was taken. It pained her to let her parents live with the thought that their only child died at sea, but she needed it to be this way. She adopted an alias for the time being, Nagini, refusing to give anyone her true identity, she needed Fenix to believe she was rotting in that cove he left her in.
    
    Fenix will know the pain he caused her that day. She envisioned the day she would confront him, the shock in his eyes as he realized that the ghost of his past had come to claim what was rightfully hers. When that day came, she would show him no mercy. And as she stood over him, victorious, she would remind him of the truth he had once told her: in this world, it’s every pirate for herself.
    
    
  • gallery

    why did she board?

    Melisandre views the Leviathan as a means to the end. The large ship, the crew, and weaponry it possesses has great promise in being a key component to hunting down Fenix. She wants to win over the crew, take over as the position of power and use it in her pursuit of vengeance.

    opinion on royalty

    She is indifferent when it comes to Royalty. She hasn't had the chance to interact much with someone of that high of status, so she doesn't have a direct opinion on the matter. She thinks some of the decisions they make for the people they claim to want to see prosper make no sense, but with her lifestyle their rulings don't affect her.
    
    

    opinions on piracy

    Lives and breathes every aspect. For Melisandre it is the only way of living.
    

    gm notes

    
    I love a woman mad for power and revenge, I think it's so fun to see it play out. I don't care if she fails or succeeds, I am open to Melisandre's story unfolding in either direction. Maybe after spending time with those on the Leviathan she has a change of heart, she dies before getting to enact her revenge, she gets everything she wants and ends up hating herself for it. I like to see things play out organically as we write.
    
    *If not selected in the first round of applications, I am willing to be contacted at a later date if the GM feels there’s a fitting opportunity for my character to make their grand arrival: Yes! Or even if the role I applied for doesn't fit their idea of Melisandre I am open to anything ^.^
    
    

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  coded by natasha.