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Realistic or Modern Surreal Estate || Character Thread

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elytra

elytra

a beetle may or may not be inferior to a man
Roleplay Availability
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Welcome to the Surreal Estate character thread! Please feel free to post your characters here, and even placeholders if that's something you'd like to do. Rules will be reiterated below along with the roles and the character sheet set up. If you need any assistance, please let me know! My DMs are always open.

Sheets due on April 14th at the latest, and will be accepted on a rolling basis! If you need any extensions please let me know, but we will set a hard deadline on the 15th for people with extensions to get final apps in before starting the In-Character!


  • RULE 00: PLEASE fill this form out HERE, it is a "Traffic Light Form" that you will fill out to tell me any triggers that need to be kept in mind for the RP. PLEASE fill this out; if you do not you will not be accepted even if your character is done. This is for your sake and mine so that everyone is comfortable!

    RULE 01. Placeholders are allowed but please have your sheets done at some point! If you do not have your sheet done within the timeline and once we start rolling, you won't be accepted. Exceptions can be made for situations out of your control but please communicate that!

    RULE 02. ALL FC types are allowed, including realistic and description, but if you use art please do not use anime (for sake of consistency) and be sure that if it is not your art to supply ample credit to the creator. Human characters only, and though they can be accented by secondary roles to have other qualities to them, no unnatural eye colors or non-human appearances.

    RULE 03. Since there is plenty of space to get creative with the roles and mix-matching primary/secondary roles, there will be multiple characters of the same positions! Ideally with secondary roles there can be variety to, say, two real estate agents working on the same house together. We will only be accepting one type of these variations, such as there being an exorcist real estate agent and a psychic real estate agent, but NOT two psychic real estate agents. This is to better allow characters to have different utility to them.

    RULE 04. This is not first come first serve and I will be choosing characters based on how well they fit the roleplay. This is not meant to stress anyone out! Its simply to make sure the group vibes well. Just because I reject an OC at first doesn't mean you can't ask me how to adjust your sheet to better fit the group. The vague primary roles can be outlined in your CS, or we can work out the intricacies later once your character is accepted among the others of their primary role type. We will accept OCs on a rolling basis, by batches that finish first, and allow revisions or any help needed. No set character limit has been decided but if there become more than ten characters the process will be a little more rigid.

    RULE 05. Only one OC per person. Try to balance roles as much as you can, but if there's any gaps they can be supplemented with NPCs.

    RULE 06. Again, any questions please ask! If you want to feel out a concept before posting or working on it, please DM me!
 
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XVI.
real estate hunter
scroll.















don't call my mama
devin shamel

THE BASICS

VISAGE
Name: Vaughn Murdoch Valentine
Nickname(s): Saint, N/A
Age: Thirty-Two
Primary Role: Estate Agent
Secondary Role: Hunter (Monsters)
Society Member?: Unlicensed
Gender/Pronouns: Cis-Male, He/Him
Sexuality: Heterosexual

THE SELF

APPEARANCE
Face Claim: Aaron Taylor Johnson
Appearance: Standing at 6’1” in height, Vaughn errs on the taller side with an impressive wide-shouldered physique. Broad hands, not known for their delicate touch, have long been decorated by an abundance of rings lining thick fingers, disguising calluses as they draw the gaze to a wealth of jewellery about his wrists and digits. Choosing to keep his hair on the longer side, reaching past the nape of his neck, Valentine greases it flat appearing a chestnut sheen of product to prevent any semblance of his natural curls⁠—similarly matching that of his moustache, delicately cropped with the ghost of a goatee beneath his lower-lip. A straight nose with its angular bridge proffers a quality of symmetry to Vaughn’s face, high cheekbones balancing the strength of his jaw, and flat albeit expressive brows.

The hunter come real estate agent has his liking of a salesman’s wardrobe; tailored suits in navy pinstripe, tweed overcoats, and flattering ties all conceal his secondary role beneath the visage of a salaryman. Nevertheless, besides complimenting blue eyes and boyish charm, his single earring mimics that of a sailor’s tradition, taken from his father’s father and passed unto their sons, where the earrings of a man could pay for their coffin wherever they might die. Fitting for a dangerous occupation. It’s not uncommon to see Valentine protecting his investments by keeping clear rain⁠-ponchos in the backseat of his beaten old station wagon, as well as forensic shoe-covers. Lest fighting stain the leather.

Smelling distinctly of expensive cologne, disguising an underlying scent of iron and it’s metallic implications⁠—it’s hardly noticeable for the tobacco that clings to even the crevices of his skin; a brand called Dukes.

Notable Features: Missing the tops of his left middle and ring fingers, where the hand was mangled in a trap. Tattoos predominantly line his forearms, biceps and chest; unnoticed due to the long-sleeved shirts he makes his preference, most of them slightly blurred with names of ex-girlfriends, hunting victories, the Dallas County Jail and a heart crossed with a slightly lopsided ‘Mom’. Among these, nicks, scratches, and scars can be identified for their silvery, raised lines and bumps where a near-miss got a little too close for comfort.

Positive Traits:
+ Charismatic: Vaughn is a reliably social person with a soothing charm, one that might be used to distract, convince, or negotiate. Call it the salesman’s friend, a lawyer’s wit, and the politician’s god, charisma is the soul of the act, hand in hand with outrageous confidence. As far as befriending others, he likes to keep things easy, purposeful enemies are a hassle.
+ Spirited: Adventure calls, and Valentine answers. Courage runs through his veins at the same rate of nicotine, the first to throw himself in head first and the last to leave. Possessed by nigh senseless instincts of a distinct calibre, his ego can’t deny he cares about others (and that addicting rush of worship for his actions).
+ Dependable: While he might be a greedy, vain man, with a tongue of silver and a heart of tarnished gold, Vaughn is reliable. Most shockingly, the Hunter is never a man to leave others to fend for themselves. No matter the issue, if called, he’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, ready with a gentle beration or ill-defined comfort.

Negative Traits:
⁠— Materialistic: Putting it plainly, as one might infer from his love of all that glitters, Vaughn likes the finer things in life. His greatest weakness is that of collecting wealth, and spending it as fast as the cheque clears. He may overshoot corners, weasel out more payment than he’s worth, and unfairly sulk about company funds. Not to forgo his “under the table” earnings.
— Egotistical: Vanity is a curse of Narcissus, and Valentine may as well be his greatest believer. Full of himself and his abilities, as well as a measure of stubbornness derived from this absolutism he feels in his strengths, the Realtor is insufferable. If not luckier by the day he hasn’t met the fate that’s long subdued his forefathers who’ve made mistakes in their line of work.
⁠— Disorganised: Outwardly put together, that shiny facade comes undone to spy his surroundings and equipment. The proud owner of an ever-messier desk and barely held together vehicle that hasn’t glimpsed a mechanic in a tortured decade; Vaughn’s preparations for encountering the supernatural mirror this. Always improvising on his feet, rather than taking precautions.

Fears:
(!) A fear of small and/or inescapable places, such as lifts, planes, and subterranean cavities (basements, caves, etc.). Expanding upon the idea of not being in control of one’s survival, either by removing independence into the hands of another or a slow, crushing death where rescuers are unable to remove you from your circumstance.
(!) Teeth; Vaughn is particularly disgusted by teeth, whether they’re a child’s milktooth or the possibility of losing his own in a fight. Something about the enamelled lumps of nerve in fleshy mouths sends his stomach churning to dwell on too long.

Public Image:
If anything ought to represent a man such as Vaughn Valentine, it’d be the sharp suit and sharper tongue. A sweet-talking and altogether vain huntsman who's seen America from coast to coast, only to find nothing to call home about. Generally regarded as likeable, efficient, but all over the place with equipment, his charm in selling potential houses is one key aspect that's let him keep his new occupation as he works hard to play hard. More surprisingly, is his veritable boundless knowledge of creatures from his years of acting independantly. The spirit of old world explorers runs deep as Vaughn puts on the act of daring, jumping into situations on whim with whatever weapon at hand, albeit a vein of selfishness prevents him from entirely embracing life as working in the team-orientated company of Ackehurst. There’ll come a reckoning, some day, that he’ll have to answer for.

THE PAST

BIOGRAPHY
How did they get their secondary role?:
An unlicensed hunter, whose family have long upheld tradition since the colonisation of the Americas, Vaughn was inducted into the family business from a young age. Under the guise of a travelling Tupperware salesman, Simon Valentine dragged his wife and child from one state to another chasing work and monsters for a tidy cheque. A mess of homeschooled certificates, on-the-job apprenticeship and shady child labour as his father’s assistant, Vaughn’s grown up surrounded by that culture of anti-authority and highly independent hunters with their premature cases of misadventure. Nevertheless it raised a restless man and a penchant for heavy-handed brutality.

How did they get involved in Ackehurst?:
Call it as you will, a job opportunity that made its way down the grapevine needing two sets of skills. One, selling houses; the other, killing whatever decided to take up residence beneath them. Applying for the job based on these merits, with a testament and character reference, Ackehurst supported his training for his pre-licence and furthermore, his real estate licence.

How long have they been with Ackehurst?:
Three years, long enough to have begun strutting his achievements about the office.

Brief Background:
Born to Simon and Shirley Valentine, Vaughn’s first home was the road. His daddy used to say the world was their front yard, that they had a roof of stars and a house on wheels⁠—it was caravans, trailers, tents and second-hand RVs that occupied his first years on Earth. Partially home-schooled, or entered into education across the country for short stints, Vaughn grew up in an environment that prompted a swim or drown attitude. Developing the ability to form friendships anywhere they went and charm his way out of missed assignments with the self-pitying excuses that he’d never had a house of brick or bedroom that wasn't within a stone’s throw of his parents flimsy walls⁠—stuck listening to every syllable of their fighting.

Summers were spent with his father, learning the trade as how they’d done for centuries. Tracking marks, setting traps, lugging equipment, unpaid and unasked, lest he get the back of his father’s hand. Vaughn’s overinflated importance came from a boy who had none, or at least, an air of expendability. Even in the present, Vaughn can smell that phantom sting of gunpowder, as his father taught him to use his first firearm. Killing deer was a precursor to killing things that had a glimmer of greater conscience. A practiced apathy for pest control, that began with a hare and ended standing over a kelpie.

Young Valentine got drilled, punished for what could take his life; told in detail what awaited a hunter who couldn't look after himself. Particuarly nasty memories were being made to sleep outside under the stars, lessening his dependance on material items, clasping a switchblade and bottle of water for comfort. Daddy said it was for the rattlesnakes. Momma never gave him the time of day.

Shirley left when Vaughn was nine, eloped with a Floridian weatherman whose veneers could’ve solar powered a small region’s worth of farms. The longest they’d ever stayed tied down was during those years of divorce, though Shirley didn’t fight for custody as her focus turned to a fresh start. Besides, the boy had always reminded her of his father, sharp as a tack and no good. Always had a lie in his teeth or a sly scheme underway, not her kin. Not anything like her at all.

They began moving as soon as Simon was tempted by a big job down in New Orleans, putting space between them and Shirley, severing the last of the ties. The bible belt had always looked kindly on men of their calibre, unlike where superstitions petered out to the North⁠—save for the Pacific Northwest and the empty farmlands that bred lonesome tales⁠—they’d always grown stronger in some places more than others. Aged twelve, having to pick up the slack of his father’s business where Simon turned to drink while working, Vaughn lost part of his hand to a particularly easy mistake during a set-up. The sort of accident that set a man back on the straight and narrow for maiming his only son.

Within the year, normality took on a different appearance. Kinder. They continued like that on their lonesome for sometime, Vaughn studying out of books and libraries, hopping tutor to tutor or classroom to classroom⁠—Simon conjuring up their next big break. Attending unlicensed hunter gatherings and conventions, but it was only when Vaughn reached fourteen that Simon considered remarrying a hairdresser by the name of Marlene. She liked the transient life, sold Avon products out of a big company handbag and offered styling for a cheap buck. It was hard to explain he’d never had any sort of animosity to Marlene, she’d never imposed herself upon him as a mother, just moved in one day and started making the RV feel like people lived there.

Most of all, she gave Vaughn due attention. Never having any children of her own, she’d sailed blind into unknown waters and treated him no different than anybody she believed deserving of respect. Bleached hair, bright blue eyeshadow and a love for leopard print with a ring for every finger, he’d always thought her the best dressed in any room.

Supporting his studies and exams for Vaughn’s high school diploma, making sure he’d stayed on the right track⁠—as well as teaching him the trick to shoplifting from big supermarket stores—Marlene was no less an angel in his mind, while his father had his numerous sins to account for. Rather than attending college, although he was well on his way to a scholarship, Vaughn apprenticed to take over the family company. Aged twenty-three, he even set out to start his own line of business under the umbrella of their surname.

Acting independently, Vaughn struck gold, driving from state to state in an old, banged-up station wagon that’d been through its own battles with the paranormal. His reputation was do or die, lending himself to the mythos as he exaggerated his skill. He turned up like a Saint with a loaded gun and vanished before they knew he wasn’t one, but one sure thing was after he’d left, livestock and hitchhikers suddenly stopped vanishing in the same quantities as before.

For all the mental strain of a childhood on edge, Vaughn had to thank the old man for his preparations. Killing wasn't an easy trade, whether by bullet or blade.

Having done his time in Dallas County Jail for few offences here and there, banged up for being drunk and disorderly or trespass, his criminal record and mugshots are all in the line of duty. Not that the authorities would give a pass to a hunter who wasn't part of a licenced society. Nobody there to get him out of it, he's seen his fair share of the inside for short residences.

However the constant travelling and hard life that entailed, along with the fluctuations in where work was located, drew Valentine’s interest in stability. Hearing from a friend of a friend about a potential opening for Ackehurst, Vaughn began lining his ducks in a row. His education and certificates, long-lived career, and support from his connections all provided a well-versed hunter with the chance to pass his realtor exams. Rather than train the mundane in how to dispatch a bogeyman, he proved he’d got the knack for selling properties and getting the hang of land titles.

THE PROMPT

BITTERSWEET VICTORY
CW: Gore, Injury, Injury to children, etc.
He’d not been quick enough. Fingers shattering between the bear traps teeth, crimson beading at his knuckles as the boy stifled sobs. Tears stung an already weathered face; lashing broken skin whilst Vaughn’s head lolled back in snippets of prayer he’d never had reason to recall. Here, pines rose up against the sky, sparse branches knitting together a frigid, damp environment that soaked into the knees of his jeans⁠—would he be missed? Straying from his father’s side, as a lamb wandering from his shepherd is lost to wolves.

The sky darkened, tumorous clouds swelling on the back of a hunched horizon, deepening their bruised colours in mockery of his mottled flesh. From pity to anger Valentine wrestled with the iron maw, sending a jolting sensation of white-hot agony up into a twitching bicep, the boy flailing his free fist as it pummelled the chain anchoring him.

He could feel where the bone had snapped, splintering beneath as it threatened to pierce up and through—pushing outward as a solid lump of taut hide. The entire sensation of his fingertips formed one weeping mass, blood coagulating to a seeping ooze welding pine needles and specks of rust to the wound’s clamped incision. Sweat coating the boy’s brow had long cooled, pale-faced and waxen, albeit for the flush of his fevered appearance.

A huff sounded beyond the line of trees. Hollow, throaty, like cattle. Silence growing distinct, no longer accompanied by mournful birdsong or the gambling of foals navigating wild bracken. Valentine’s stomach churned, bile rising quick to his throat, still a boy. Still stuck. When his father had dragged them out on a job chasing the thing with no name, not even weighed in threat by native tongue, it held bad tidings. As oft misfortune plagues places from which no return is had, the same might be said of people. Of things.

Vaughn smelled it. Fertiliser and rot, old meat. Wet roadkill; hitting the back of your sinuses as the decomposition bloated and writhed where insects made home in the cavities of its yawning chest. Unrecognisable, dead liquified about their remains. Rain began, slow and lazy at first, heavy droplets punching past the leaves overhead. For a moment one wondered whether it would continue forward, branches snapping underfoot as the silhouette paused⁠—even through the wall of foliage, no cloud of breath laboriously exhaled. The pelts adorning the misshapen beast had long begun to lose patches of hair, badly moulded and moving. As subtle as a ripple might blow across a lake.

The boy drew his pocket knife. Smooth-handled, ivory in colour, biting on the edge of cold metal where its blade unfolded against the chapped nature of his lips. His eyes darted down, close to letting the roil of his stomach spill whilst swallowing down the acidic contents.

Its sharp edge began where he felt the break. Forward, then back again, sawing as it exposed the white-pink of bone. Vaughn felt the flesh squelch suctioning off the knife with a splash, rivulets staining his forearms red until the downpour diluted it to blushing pink. He chewed his tongue, teeth mauling for a different type of pain; one that wasn’t in his extremities, grief silenced by tremoring. It hadn’t been his good hand, he soothed himself, flexing the stumps against the bitter air where the rain proved beneficial only to numb his exposed nerves.

Valentine fell back, wrapping the hand in the threadbare hem of his shirt. Light blue, getting on too small, now stark crimson as it cradled against his abdomen. Whatever it was wearing rotten skins about its neck, meant nothing to the boy who scrambled forward, mud and splinters wedging up beneath his good nails; grazing the palm against tree stumps and bark as he bolted. Papa usually said running was no good, but it didn’t chase. A great shadow in the woods, encroaching upon remnants jutting from the metal jaw.

One only hoped the flesh he’d left behind was sacrifice enough.



GALLERY​










vaughn valentine.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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II.
the spiritual medium realtor
scroll.















pet sematary
give my remains to broadway

THE BASICS

NAME: Valerie Anne Kallagher
NICKNAMES: Allie, Val, V
AGE: 31
GENDER: Cis-Female, She/Her
SEXUALITY: Bisexual
PRIMARY ROLE: Real Estate Agent
SECONDARY ROLE: Psychic (Spiritual Medium)
SOCIETY MEMBER: N/A

THE SELF

FACECLAIM: Elizabeth Olsen
NOTABLE FEATURES: N/A
POSITIVE TRAITS: Articulate and well-read, Allie has fed most of her traumatic past into a thoughtful education (perhaps spending too much time in the comfort of university); Put-together and timely, she creates the perfect schedule for herself and anyone in her vicinity, often to their benefit as much as hers; Passionate and fun-loving, she tries not to let the intrusive visuals of dead people and their encounters get the better of her.
NEGATIVE TRAITS: Combative and self-interested, Allie does what she can to prioritize her mental health, even if that means refusing to work with others (and doing a bad job of not shouldering all of a physical load or duty); Snarky and sarcastic, her jovial interludes between moments of business and predictability can come off as short-tempered, but it's really her patience that's in question here; Jaded and haunted, she's circumvented a lot of her childhood into a combination of productive and unproductive side-ventures, but it's not unlikely that she would crumble beneath familiar displeasures.
MOST AFRAID OF: Needles, knives or other sharp things make her turn away and avoid entirely. Her fear of the dark seems comical from afar, but is quite debilitating at home in that she never shuts the lights off, even during the day. The threat of small spaces, even in crowds or confined rooms, will set her alarm systems blaring.
PUBLIC IMAGE: Seeking to keep herself as distanced from any psychic societies or communities, she keeps her abilities on the down-low, refusing to admit any truth of it to someone if they are strangers. Her reputation as a real estate agent is fairly unremarkable outside of Ackehurst related circles, being that the quick change from doing nothing to suddenly selling un-haunted houses doesn't give someone much time to make waves in other communities. She spent a long time propagating her way through liberal arts college, so anyone in those sorts of environments would know her as well.


THE PAST

How did they get their secondary role/how did it come to be?:

Innate, Valerie's mediumship only came to fruition when she was about eight. She struggles to decide on training herself or letting it be a broken leg of sorts in her skill repertoire, but the sometimes aggressive sightings of spirits still catches her off guard to this day.

How did they get involved in Ackehurst?:

A friend of a friend of a family friend passed the information through the grapevine, and knowing that Allie was already pursuing real estate, by chance it proved the perfect chance to make some sort of retribution for her past. Her brother insisted she take it, so that she stops complaining about regular houses and regular people.

How long have they been with Ackehurst?:

Five years

Brief Background

CW: Parent Drug Use, Suicide Attempt mentions (of a parent), Death of family, Implied Parent Emotional Abuse/Abuse

Born middle child to a fairly well-off Massachusetts family, Valerie grew up idolizing the person her mother was. She was a fairly organized and put-together type of person, who planned weekly trips to the museums and the galleries that became a regular treat for Allie and her older brother. For all that a child could admire their parent for, it cleverly hid the suffering beneath; their mother was not put-together at all. Rather, she was struggling beneath the weight of motherhood and her own life passions, unable to find a strike of passion anymore.

By the time the surprising arrival of third child, another girl, the family's matriarch had already begun to lose sense of what she knew, and what was right. Through rose-coloured glasses did Allie see a happy outcome for their family, excited for the new arrival where her older brother was less than pleased. No one really noticed how their mother seemed to be at the end of her temper more often, or that she'd slink away to her bedroom for hours at a time, ignoring whatever cries or calls came from her children.

Their father, not consciously unaware of what was happening, was often away for weeks on work trips overseas. Their mother continued to work, all the while juggling three kids, so it was natural that the end of her rope finally pulled taut. One mental breakdown, suicide attempt and impulsive quitting of her museum job later and the family had packed up their things to move to Japan, where their father's work was based out of. For proximity and a change of pace, things started out good for a while.

In her new and regenerated state, their mother became quite obsessed with renovating and decorating their new home, instilling on Western furniture and wallpapers that felt like home enough for her just to lose her mind a bit at a time, out of habit more than anything. While taking out one of the walls in a closet they found a mirror, half-buried beneath insulation and wrapped in paper. Around this time Val had, and always displayed little ticks, felt something dormant in the air. What would later be the demonstration of her latent and innate psychic medium abilities, they were triggered to a full extent by the appearance of this mirror.

Once she looked into the glass, it became clear that there was something in the house, and that it was angry. Val was plagued by these visions and images, tormented awake and asleep with the anger of this spirit. What she didn't know, even at her young age, was that looking in and communicating directly with this spirit even if she didn't mean to had triggered its waking and future torments of the home and family. Things changed drastically after that, a sort of negative layer forming over the family and home. Paranoia rose one everyone's shoulders, temperaments were at their all time worst, and most lashed out in ways they didn't think possible. Their mother, already sensitive to her own emotions, was one of the ones most affected by it all (as Charlie would be, too, though Val wouldn't know the details of this for some time).

Somehow they lasted a couple of years, the goodness and sanity slowly draining from the home. It was the sudden death of their father, a brutal thing that no one remembered or wanted to remember, that culminated their 'house of horrors' to a terrifying, and rather final, conclusion. Figuring out insurance, assets and the stress of financially dealing with the sole person providing dying so suddenly had the family moving back to the States, and to the familial embrace of what was comfortable and known, despite all of its traumas and unforgiving memories.

Things continued to get worse from there, try as Allie may to make the most out of it. Once Chris, the older brother, was of age he headed out as fast as he could. Begrudgingly, he left Allie and Charlie with their mother, who had already begun to spiral further into her past addictions. Able to get by from their father's life insurance and what was left of his assets, by the time that Val had graduated high school she'd saved up enough, between working a side job, to apply to college. Juggling everything all at once, in order to be out of the house as much as possible, she finally managed to get her own place (a sordid little shoebox) but it was enough that she felt comfortable to be away.

The first thing she did in this new place was make the room, and space, to have Charlie over. It was better than staying with their mother, who's terrible influence had no doubt already begun to dig blackened nails into both of the sisters. Allie sort of assumed a pseudo mother role at this point, something that their own mother seemed to support, and despite all the stress and auto-pilot that she put herself in to maintain her life, it was better than wallowing in the darkness of the past.

It was no wonder she stayed in school so long, a few courses at a time, but the ability to be even further away from everything at her own home, gave her little comforts. Still in school by the time that Charlie turned eighteen, Allie did her best to provide for her little sister to go to school too. Debt up to the eyeballs, as any money left behind from their father's death had already been spent to death by their mother, Allie pushed Charlie to get going on her life too. This backfired quickly, and before she knew it, her sister was gone and Allie had no control over the situation. To say that she spiraled would be to put it lightly, but confronted with the lack of life that she really had, and all of the past mistakes and horrors that haunted her... She was desperate for therapy, to find some meaning.

After six months she found reason again, a new procedure to life, and after graduating her liberal arts college with a useless biology degree she didn't want anymore, Allie turned right around and studied to become a real estate agent. Where the inspiration had come from is forgotten to this day, but somehow and someway it seemed stable enough and comfortable for her, so far removed from everything that had sought to undo the family (and very nearly succeeded). It wasn't long before she found herself in Ackehurst's employment, and while she hadn't thought about her abilities in a long time (preferring to keep it half-buried like a relic in the walls), they hadn't completely eluded her. Finding some solace with it, due in part to her therapist's guiding words (if cleverly disguised by Allie's inability to admit her being able to see ghosts), she jumped into the job headfirst.

It proved to be, in fact, some of the most fulfilling and stable way of safely coming to terms with a haunted past, literally, while still doing what she enjoys. More for the 'helping people' side of things, it became a sort of sweet conclusion to all that had happened.

That was, until Charlie's accident. An incident that Allie still refuses to let go, she dragged her sister from LA to return to Boston, proving to be the once again maternal figure needed to help her find some semblance of normalcy. Even if that means working in the same agency as her, albeit on different job terms.

Anything is something, and Allie's not about to look too deep into things.

WRITING PROMPT

Prompt Choice: The Discovery of Something Supernatural

The mirror had a solid black frame, much heavier than any acrylic frame that Allie had lifted of her mother's new mirrors for the house, and a dusty, darkened glass. They'd placed it in one of the rooms off the landing of the stairs, something that was once a washroom of sorts but was now a simplified storage closet.

As soon as her mother had mentioned this mysterious object that they'd found in the walls, she'd been interested. When they'd moved in, she'd felt something in the air. Nothing living, nothing bad, just... a strange air. Like there was something to be found, or something to be lost; obviously that being the strange mirror that was found. Hoping to catch sight of it, her mother had chided her for sneaking around in the upstairs room. There were tools and pulled wood scattered across the floor, a warning for safe stepping more than anything. But this, had in fact, enticed Allie to want a look at it.

So, in the dead of night, she'd headed down to the room that the mirror had been moved to, and with the faint light of a cranked flashlight, she stared at it. Noting each speck of dust, the scratches on its surface, Allie almost felt sad to see something so ornate in a state of disrepair.

The flash of a solid black form darted behind her, obscured by the focal glare of the light, but had been big enough that Allie had seen it. She jumped, expecting to see her mother or even Charlie around (who was always right there, surprisingly quiet for a five year old), but there was nobody.

The house was silent once more, save for the creaking of old wood that settled.

Turning back to the glass, Allie then noticed a large black streak across the top, looking almost like a crack. It was a bent and split line, carving the upper right quadrant of the mirror in two. Something about the vastness of the crack, like something had pushed its way in, blurred the edges like fur. Biting her lower lip, the young girl crept closer, a turn in her stomach betraying the supposed courage that kept her moving forward.

Reaching out a hand she let two gentle fingers grace alongside the crack's edge, feeling that something furry was indeed lodged in.

Just then a rush of air passed across Allie, sweeping her hair over her shoulder, and sending a jolt through her body. Her flashlight slipped from clammy fingers, dashing against the ground, as the door to the room shut tightly behind her, shoving Allie up against the mirror.

Her scream caught in her throat, now near nose to nose with her reflection, then seeing that the crack sat atop the head of a figure in blackened light, with a twisted face and startling white eyes. A crack like a scar, wild hair bursting from the mirror's surface as if the surface were mere water.

She did finally begin shouting and crying once the darkness caught up to her, and with it the figure in the mirror's glassy eyes boring into Allie's. White hot pain, snipped at the back of the neck, bled like rage through Valerie's body. It was a shaking, nauseating anger that made the young girl struggling to fling herself back against the door, nails scratching at the wood.

But when she closed her eyes, all she could see was the figure with white eyes, haunting her memories. Waiting for something easier to latch onto.



GALLERY​










valerie kallagher.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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scroll








scroll





❝
You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.





C.S. Lewis
















Luca.







full name

luca di traglia






nicknames

lucie (un-ironically)






age

twenty-five






primary role

surveyor






secondary role

psychic (seer)






society member

the right hand (formerly)






gender

cisgender male (he/him)






sexuality

bisexual

































Achilles Come Down


Gang of Youths




















01.



visage

















eye c.

brown






hair c.

dark brown






wardrobe

Luca's Wardrobe






faceclaim

Christian Daloi























02.



psyche









On the outside Luca is often seen as sly and cunning. He is easy-going and slick, finding it easy to con and trick others through his charm. He has a quick-talking and friendly demeanour. He is very street smart and intelligent and uses his vast knowledge. Luca is quick-witted and audacious, not afraid to go against the status quo. He’s not afraid to disagree with anything or anyone should it be something he finds issue with. It would be a mistake, though, to think of Luca as disagreeable or mean-spirited. Instead, Luca is knowledgeable and curious, with a playful sense of humour, and he can be incredibly entertaining. However, a lot of Luca’s personality stems from a defensive mechanism that has to do with his past – with his family and society. Deep down, he is kind and cares for the people closest to him. He would give anything to those who he loves and would continuously give his all.






positive traits

Charismatic – Luca has a way with words and wit that others find intriguing. His confidence, quick thought, and ability to connect disparate ideas in novel ways create a style of communication that is charming, even entertaining, and informative at the same time. Knowledgeable – Luca rarely passes up a good opportunity to learn something new, especially abstract concepts. This information isn’t usually absorbed for any planned purpose as with dedicated studying, Luca just finds it fascinating. Quick Thinker – Luca has a tremendously flexible mind and can shift from idea to idea without effort, drawing on his accumulated knowledge to prove his point. Excellent Brainstormer – Nothing is quite as enjoyable to Luca as analysing problems from every angle to find the best solutions. Combining his knowledge and originality to splay out every aspect of the subject at hand, rejecting without remorse options that don’t work and presenting ever more possibilities. Energetic – Luca can be noted for his enthusiasm and energy, having no qualms with putting in long days and nights to find a solution. Luca is very responsive to people’s ideas. When he’s engaged, his energy can be contagious, and it's hard not to get carried away with his (and his enthusiasm).






negative traits

Insensitive – Being so rational, Lua often misjudges others feelings and push his opinion well past others’ tolerance levels.Luca doesn’t really consider emotional points to be valid in debates, discussions, etc. Which magnifies the issue tremendously. Intolerant – Unless people are able to back up their ideas, Luca is likely to dismiss not just the ideas but the people themselves. Either a suggestion can stand up to rational scrutiny or it’s not worth bothering with. Difficulty in Focusing – The same flexibility that allows Luca to come up with such original plans and ideas makes him readapt perfectly good ones far too often, or to even drop them entirely as the initial excitement wanes and newer thoughts come along. Boredom comes too easily for Luca, and fresh thoughts are the solution, though not always a helpful one. Dislikes Practical Matters – Luca is interested in what could be – malleable concepts like ideas and plans that can be adapted and debated. When it comes to hard details and day-to-day execution where creative flair isn’t just unnecessary but actually counter-productive, Luca loses interest, often with the consequence of his plans never seeing the light of day.






deepest fears

He fears his family catching up with him. He knows that he’s old enough that even if they find him, they can’t do anything. But the inner child is still scared, so scared that he gets genuine panic attacks when he thinks of them. He has a deep fear of heights. Lua has vertigo, so he fears heights as he feels that he may lose his balance and fall. That the dizziness would get the better of him. Luca has agoraphobia. He has a fear of places and situations that might cause panic or helplessness. Due to this he absolutely hates crowds and will try to avoid them when necessary.






public image

Luca has an image of a playboy to the average person. He uses his charm, wit, and charisma to find a way to get people to open up. He’s been known to flirt with the odd person or two to get information out of them. He is known to be extremely charismatic – to the point where the people of Fleming avoid him at all costs. When it comes to his role as a surveyor, he is known to be very serious in his line of work but also very good at his job. He is known to be one of the best, with many people outside of the agency sending him files in hope that he can he help them. His time as a PI has made him renown in many circles.


















03.



history









Trigger Warning: Violence
Luca was born to the infamous Di Traglia family, a family well known in the world of psychics and beyond. The Di Traglia family is known for their extreme wealth and status as well as being a strong line of psychics with the first known psychics being Lucas six times great grandmother who was a Dream Walker. He was born to parents Lorenzo and Flavia Di Traglia. He is the youngest of five children, with his four siblings being Francesco, Antonia, Emiliano, and Giada. Luca grew up in London, UK – his parents having immigrated there sometime in the 80’s. Born with a silver spoon Luca grew up knowing nothing but wealth, luxury, and excess. Luca’s earliest memories comprise of being enrolled in private schools with children who were of equal status. He was taught all the basic subjects kids needed but was also taught in things like politics, law, religion, etc – all to increase his vast expanse on knowledge.

In Luca’s immediate family, his mother and eldest brother Francesco were both psychics. His mother was a medium and his brother was an empath. Due to one psychic being born every generation – it was assumed that Francesco would be the only psychic in his immediate family of his generation. However, when Luca turned five years old Luca began seeing visions. That was when it then determined that Luca was indeed a psychic. It was from then on, that Luca began to be treated differently by his parents, better. When Luca was treated as if he was fragile. It was at the point where Francesco and Luca’s rivalry began (well, more of a one-sided rivalry on Francesco’s part).

Luca was given what could only be described as tuition on his abilities. After his abilities were acknowledged, his mother would put him and Francesco through hour long sessions every day. Luca would recall being made to touch objects, seeing if it triggered any visions of the past. He would also go through intense sessions of hypnosis. Luca would go on to describe the sessions as traumatising. He recalls being forcefully held down by his mother or the teacher. Extreme and sometimes violent methods in the name of having visions and forcing visions. He even recalled being what could only be described as waterboarded. His mother held him down whilst the teacher would spray water on his face with only a thin sheet of saran wrap between the water and him.

When Luca turned ten, his mother took him to a private hall hidden deep within London. It was the British chapter of the Right Hand. The Right Hand were a group of psychics. They told Luca that his abilities were a gift granted to him by some type of God. That he was supposed to be a herald of a new age. It was over here that his tuition increased tenfold, but instead of a tutor and his mother, the tuition was conducted by other members of the Right Hand. He was given books and tools to help him learn but also to help improve his connection as a Seer. They said he needed to get stronger. That all of them needed to get stronger if they were to herald a new age.

When Luca reached his teenage years, he had his first glimpses of the outside world. His private school allowed the students to go out to the city during their free period. When Luca first entered the city, he was extremely overwhelmed. He didn’t really understand what was going on, why everything was so busy and what people were doing. However, by his third visit, Luca got the hang of things. He began to understand what life was like for the average person. What life was like for the average person his age. It brought about this ugly jealousy that managed to creep into his head and heart. Though he eventually made friends and began to go out with them more. Hang out with them and assimilating into normal life. But this wasn’t to last.

His mother eventually found out what was going on at his school. How he was going out and the new ideas that were taking place in his head. How he was eventually getting away from her control, from the Right Hand. So, in a move that was wholly wrong and illegal, she pulled Luca out of school and had the remaining on his schooling done by the Right Hand who had registered themselves as a school. There his training for his psychic training extended beyond his hour-long training. It was constant. The Right Hand also were constantly testing his loyalty for the organisation and if he didn’t pass then he would need re-educating. Luca didn’t know what that would entail so he pretended to remain loyal to the organisation.

However, what his mother and the Right Hand didn’t know was that Luca had maintained contact with the people from the outside. And on the day of his eighteenth birthday, Luca hatched an escape plan with the people from outside. At night, when everyone in the compound was asleep, Luca took his packed bag to the door. Learning precisely how to pick the lock door during his stay there, he opened the door. He got away in his friend’s getaway car and whilst looking in the rear-view mirror, he saw the figures of his family and the Right Hand momentarily chasing the car before resorting to screaming his name.

From there, Luca flew to America to leave his parents behind and start a new life.






secondary role acquisition

Luca acquired his secondary role when he was five years old. He doesn’t recall much of the incident that defined the rest of his life. He remembers looking at his grandad’s medals and touching them – a decorated war hero, his father described. Though they were Italians, so Luca didn’t know how much of a ‘hero’ his grandad truly was. He recalls taking the medal with him to bed, going to sleep and seeing flashing images. Gunfire, death, smoke – all the usual hall markers of war. When he woke up, he woke up to his entire family surrounding him. He broke into a cold sweat whilst he was sleeping. His family told him he was screaming. After recalling everything with his parents and giving details a child shouldn’t know – his mother realised that he also had psychic abilities.






involvement with ackehurst

Luca was working as a P.I. as soon as he was in the USA. He became very skilled at his job, often bringing down high profile targets with his information and his psychic abilities. Soon though, he found himself being lost and feeling down. The life of proving crime, proving infidelity was beginning to catch up in his negative mindset of the world. However, when Luca turned twenty-four, he received a letter from Ackehurst. He was one of the only people being invited to the interview that didn’t apply. So he went, and the rest was history.






time with ackehurst

Luca has been with Ackehurst for two years.


















04.



gallery


































05.



connections

















Flavia Di Traglia



Luca's mother. The source of all the happenings of his life. They don't speak to each other anymore and with good reason. Luca still suspects that his mother is trying to find him and the thought of it terrifies him to his core. Still, he will continuously avoid her until the end of time as long as she's with that cult that she likes to label as a 'society'.

















Francesco Di Traglia



The brother that Luca wishes things were different with. He grew up always admiring his Francesco, always wanting to have that brotherly bond with him but he never received. Luca receives letters from Francesco. He doesn't know how his brother found him. He promises to never tell in his letter, but Luca doesn't trust him.

















WIP



for future connections.

















WIP



for future connections.





















06.



extras.

















writing prompt

A Bittersweet Victory

Luca didn’t know how long he had been running, but if the burn in his lungs told him anything, then he knew it must have been for a while. Still, he didn’t stop. Even when his sides ached and his heart shattered in agony, he didn’t stop. Hearing the voices of his parents, siblings and members of the Right Hand only seemed to spur him on. He didn’t stop. Not now. Not when the taste of freedom was on the tip of his tongue. Not when the getaway car was so close.

He didn’t know when it started. The disillusionment. When the spell that the Right Hand had cast finally wore off. He couldn’t understand why his family were still under that spell. Why they couldn’t break free. None of it made sense. Still, he had to do what was right for him. Maybe he would have stayed and ‘completed his duty’ as his mother said, had he never stepped out into the everyday world. But it was far too late. He knew what lied beyond the walls of the Right Hand. He knew that the Right Hand were just a group of zealots. A group of zealots that had a meticulously made web, sturdy enough to trap people within their clutches. Sturdy enough to make sure no one got away. And yet, Luca would manage to get away.

He spotted the car. He was grateful about the bright red hue of the car that made it easy to spot. He remembers talking about how ugly the shade was. How ironic that it was now his saving grace. He picked up his speed and when the passenger door opened, he hopped in as quickly as he could. The inside was exactly as he remembered it. Tattered front and back seats, the faint smell of bubble gum car freshener mixed with cigarettes that Simon loved to smoke. The barely working front lights that Luca was grateful for at this point. Anything to avoid detection but he knew they had to make haste and fast.

“Am I glad to see you.” Luca signed as he sunk into his seat.

Simon looked over with a grin.

“Really? I recall someone telling me that angels would sing on the day that this junk of a car was sent to die.”

Luca rolled his eyes, about to give a sarcastic retort before he heard yelling. Shit, how did they reach so fast? He quickly turned over to Simon.

“Get a move on! They’re coming!”

Simon quickly shifted his gear before slamming his foot on the accelerator. The car jolted forward causing Luca to accidentally bite his tongue. But the car drove, making speed. As he looked in the rear view mirror his last memory of the night was seeing his parents and siblings chasing after the car, the feeling of a sharp sadness like a knife through his chest and a faint taste of blood soon entering his mouth. He could feel the corner of his eyes water as he willed himself to look away from the mirror. It wasn't their fault but it wasn't his either.

Was this freedom? Or was he simply tricking himself into believing he was free. What would he do now? He promised himself he would get the rest of his family out but now he wondered if that was even possible. Was it worth it?

He didn’t know.




















♡coded by uxie♡
 
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the dreamwalker.















scroll

Devin



Devin





ㅎㅎ














01.

full name




Devin Murphy








02.

age




thirty-two
DOB May 24th








03.

sexuality




bi ace
trans masc (he/him)








04.

birthplace




Boston
MA, USA








05.

roles




surveyor (lawyer)
psychic (dreamwalker)




































  • Awake, awake



    though we were wide awake
    this is a dream state













♡coded by uxie♡
 
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XI.
interior designer/psychic
scroll.















whip it
devo

BASICS
Name: Guy Van Every
Nickname(s): N/A
Age: 35
Primary Role: Surveyor (Interior Designer)
Secondary Role: Psychic (Scout)
Society Member?: Storm Breaker
Gender/Pronouns: Cis Man (He/Him)
Sexuality: Bi

THE SELF
Appearance: FC is Penn Badgley
Positive Traits: Creative, intelligent, able to find the humor in things
Negative Traits: Judgmental, perfectionist, not exactly a team player/prefers to do things on his own
What are they most afraid of?: Not being in control of his own actions/his mind being altered in some way (especially without his knowledge), centipedes
Public Image: Guy comes off as a charismatic and creative sort of man. Maybe not open, but he seems to act friendly outwardly.

THE PAST
How did they get their secondary role/how did it come to be?: Guy was, in fact, born with it. Being psychic isn't a for-sure thing in his family- his parents aren't psychic, neither are his grandparents -but he and his younger sibling are.
How did they get involved in Ackehurst?: After going to college for interior design, it was time for Guy to look for a job. One happened to be open at Ackehurst. His psychic abilities were just a happy coincidence when it came to having relevant skills to being hired.
How long have they been with Ackehurst?: 10 years
Brief Background: Guy grew up wealthy. Technically, Guy still is wealthy. The Van Every family is old money, having been well off for many, many years. They've had their hands in a lot of industries, but in modern day, Mr. Van Every runs a profitable watch-making business. Mrs. Van Every, meanwhile, does fashion design.

Guy is the oldest of 2 children, with his younger sibling being Baby Van Every. Both were found to be psychics from a young age- Guy a scout, Baby a communer. Their parents, being aware of the supernatural and even engaging with it, were quick to try and train Guy and hone his abilities. That, however, didn't end well, and Guy ended up becoming something of a black sheep in the family. He wasn't cut off from their money, but did fade to the background a bit. He went off to college, got a job, and keeps in minimal contact with the other Van Everys.

OTHER
Due to being a Storm Breaker, Guy is partnered with a living totem he created in the traditional ritual followed by the organization. The totem is an octopus plush named Tickles. Tickles has minor psychic abilities- able to vaguely read minds and send messages/images into peoples minds -and is, frankly, a bit of a bastard.



GALLERY​










guy van every.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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-placeholder-
Davin LaFleur
cursed head crewman/witch
fc: willy cartier
tumblr_inline_nlkrpojW331rxlhrp.gif








XI.
the detective
scroll.















whip it
devo

VISAGE
NAME: robyn gunasekera
NICKNAMES: robbie 2.0, resident clown
D.O.B: he forgot
AGE: 32 years old
GENDER: cis-male
ORIENTATION: pansexual
ROLE: the detective

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​










robyn gunasekera.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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OUTLINE:
BASICS
Name:Miah Jones
Nickname(s):Mimi
Age:39
Primary Role: Surveyor
Secondary Role: exorcist
Society Member?:reapers
Gender/Pronouns:female. She/her/hers
Sexuality: aroace

THE SELF
Appearance: (I drew the FC)
[
1C06F857-0F70-46A8-86EB-3FACB2A57321.png]LINKHERE[/img]


Notable features: (optional)
Positive Traits: kind, empathic(as in being able to understand emotions not the supernatural power), intelligent, honest

Negative Traits: Quiet this can cause problems when she has to work with people since she forgets to communicate anything, stubborn and has difficulties with criticism, confuses pessimistic thoughts with realistic thoughts (she is a pessimist in denial)

What are they most afraid of?: Agoraphobia,Haphephobia

Public Image: She isn’t exactly known for anything yet.

THE PAST
How did they get their secondary role/how did it come to be?: She used to be a psychologist for children. She met a young psychic medium that was put into her care. She became a kind of older sister figure to the girl, but there was an incident. Due to the incident, she became desperate to learn more and decided to train as an excorist.

How did they get involved in Ackehurst?: She discovered it after weeks of research. It took her too long to get involved than she would care to admit.

How long have they been with Ackehurst?: She has only been with them for a few months.

Brief Background:

For most of Miah's life, she did not know about the supernatural. She didn't believe they existed. It was simple as that she worked hard and spent about 12 years in university at the least just to get everything she needed to become a psychologist after graduating she worked at a nearby hospital as a Childs psychologist. She worked there for about a year when a girl named Alyia was put into her care. Alyia, without realizing it, was a psychic medium. She believed her parents when they told her the things she was seeing weren’t real and was diagnosed with schizophrenia even before being put into Miah’s care. And They grew close. However, eventually, evidence had piled up, leading to the contrary existence of ghosts. Eventually, it became undeniable for Miah and for Alyia. Then there was the incident where Alyia was murdered by an L3 ghost afterward. Miah especially hated them, but because Alyia had not believed in being aggressive when Miah did somehow get herself into training, she never planned on getting rid of ghosts by aggressive means

Writing prompt:
Emotions...sucked. Some nights, it was easy to play pretend. Pretend that the kid she grew close to is still alive. Then there were the nights she grieved properly, like she should be doing instead of focusing on other things; then there were the nights she felt like she was being haunted, or what she was experiencing at the moment made her feel trapped. Trapped within those memories and in those memories not being able to move not being able to save her patient what happened got blammed on the patiants neighbour and while he did start what happened unintentionally and in her opinion deserved to be jailed for murder it stood as a fact he wasn't the one who killed Alyia he murdered the other missing children. But she was made so that it made it easy to blame him instead of learning the truth. Not that she wanted anyone to learn the truth anyway—the truth was haunting—but the truth was...the scariest thing she could think of besides being trapped or touched.

But she should get to bed; she does have work to do later.

(Okay if I need to change anything do not hesitate to let me know! Also I heavily debated between ghost hunter or exorcist for Miah so if you do feel that ghost hunter is better for her she can be changed to it.)
 
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  • 04
    03
    02
    general
    netta
    full name
    Arnetta 'Netta' Webber
    age
    36
    gender
    Ciswoman, She/Her
    sexuality
    Pansexual
    date of birth
    November 16th
    place of birth
    San Francisco, California
    what a horrible night to have a curse
    primary role.
    Crew.

    secondary role.
    Cursed, Object-Bound.

    society.
    None; however, some members of her family are part of the Right Hand.

left


Name: Arnetta 'Netta' Webber
Age: 36
Gender: Ciswoman, She/Her
Sexuality: Pansexual
Date of Birth: November 16th
Place of Birth: San Francisco

Primary Role: Crew
Secondary Role: Cursed, Object-Bound
Society: None; however, some members of her family are part of the Right Hand.

Appearance:
It's not uncommon for Netta to look like she's just rolled out of bed. It's likely true, after all. While Netta can clean up when she wants to, most of the time, she has little desire to do so. After a childhood where it was expected that she look a certain way, Netta is still enjoying an adulthood where she can remain relaxed. Her long, dark brown hair is not always kept in perfect beachy curly, but often frizzy or slightly tangled. A lot of people find brown eyes boring, but she's always felt it's one of her best features. While she rarely opts for a full face of makeup, Netta does enjoy a heavy eyeliner to accentuate her eyes.

Netta never quite escaped the early aughts fashion styles of her teenage years. Skinny jeans and a knitted sweater with thumb holes (forcibly made by herself) is practically a uniform for her. Comfort clothes are a must, as are, as evident by her closet, hoodies, henleys, and chunky necklaces. If there's one new thing she's picked up from the fashion of today, it's cuffed jeans, but that's more because she's slightly shorter than average at 5'4". And she absolutely refuses to get any of her clothing tailored so it actually fits her properly.

She has an abstract, water colour-styled tattoo on her left forearm. When people ask her what it is, as it just looks like splotches of blue and purple intermixed with inky black splatters, Netta will simply reply that she thought it looked "neat."

FC:
Emily Hampshire

Positive Traits:

Eager. A lifetime living in the shadow of someone or something else has made Netta eager to please. She's usually the first to volunteer for something and is unperturbed by being assigned tasks that others may feel are uncomfortable or difficult to do.

Inquisitive. While not always a beneficial trait, Netta is an endlessly curious person. She likes learning how things work and discovering new things.

Determined. Netta learned early on that life was going to continue to beat her down. She's had her moments where she's allowed it, but has managed to come out the other end and now copes quite well with set backs.

Negative Traits:

Careless. Irresponsible. Lazy. Negligent. All things that have been levelled at her before, and honestly, only part of it can be blamed on her curse. Netta is living proof that you can be casual to a fault. She has a tendency to blame all misfortune on her curse and is sometimes indifferent to her own flaws as she perceives them as not her fault.

Impulsive. Act first; don't think. It's what landed her into the whole curse issue in the first place, and Netta hasn't learned from that experience. She's ruined more than one job or relationship as a result of doing or saying something before she considers the consequences.

Irritable. Nasty Netta was a nickname she got from her siblings for a reason. When Netta is in a bad mood, you want to stay clear as she's liable to make it everyone's problem, whether that's with a cutting word or a pessimistic mood.

Fears:

Phrenophobia. Or rather, the fear of madness or insanity. There is a every present fear in her that one day she will tip over into that black abyss caused by her curse and never be able to pull herself back out of it.

Being unwanted. Perhaps Netta's most real and present fear. She has few connections in life and is distant even from her own family. Considering her curse and the way she conducts her life, who would want to be around her?

Lizards. Rodents? Totally fine. Bugs? Never really bothered her. Snakes? She thinks they're cute and wiggly. Lizards though? Ugn. She hates everything about them from their weird bulgy eyes to the way they move.

Public Image:

After living under the shadow of the rest of her family so long, Netta is used to walking through life as an unknown. She prefers it that way. A comment along the lines of "Hey, aren't you that Webber kid?" is enough to send her running. Because with that will come the inevitable questions about how her family is doing or why she never manifested psychic abilities like the rest of them, or why she's running around with gum in her hair. And honestly, it's so much easier to just be viewed as a regular person with a bad luck streak.


How did they get their secondary role/How did it come to be?

A poor decision.

Long before a string of failed jobs, before dropping out of school, and before her family's innate psychic abilities failed to manifest in their youngest daughter, Netta had been a rather curious and bored teenager. A curious and bored teenager that had no respect for socially acceptable behaviour at a party.

After being dragged along once again to one of the many dinner parties her parents attended, Netta slipped off to explore. It was a massive manor, owned by one of her parents' Right Hand socialite friends, and had all sorts of occult artifacts on display. Most were kept safe under lock and key.

Except for one room. It was a study, seemingly normal except for an open case that was left, as if by mistake, unattended on a desk that held a collection of strange-looking coins. One in particular caught her eye: a silver dollar etched with strange symbols she could not understand.

It was an odd thing. It seemed to stretch and shrink. Change colour and grow spidery black veins. Whisper to her. Despite better sense telling her to get the hell out of there, Netta pulled it from the case, and then, like the spell had been abruptly broken, shoved the thing back where it came from.

It was too late.

By the next day, she'd nearly put the coin out of her mind until she found it again. It was sitting on her desk as if it had always been there. Unnerved, and not wanting to be caught with the thing, Netta threw the coin away. Yet by the next morning, she found it again atop her blanket. So she flushed the thing down the toilet. It appeared again in her breakfast cereal. She tossed it into a pond. Once again, it appeared the next day, this time in her wallet. She mailed it out of the country. It reappeared in her shoe shortly after.

As a last ditch effort, Netta had tried to return the coin during a return dinner party. To her dismay, the coin remained where she had left it in the case, and yet a duplicate one was still in her pocket.

Already feeling like the disappointment in her family, Netta kept the secret to herself and a cloud of misfortune grew and grew and grew behind her.

How did they get involved in Ackehurst?:

It was a facetious suggestion from her older sister, Blythe, who had heard of Ackehurst herself due to her own career as a real estate lawyer. Blythe felt the whole businesses was below her, but Netta thought she might just fit in with the company and sent in her resume right away. Netta is a bit of a jack-of-all-trades due to her multitude of past jobs and isn't afraid to get her hand dirty. She'll gladly lug things around, construct basic things, or go clean up that mysterious goop nobody else wants to get close to.

How long have they been with Ackehurst?:

Just a couple weeks. Netta is still new to the job and hoping to make a good impression.

Background:

There were high hopes for Netta when she was a child. After all, she was the daughter of Jeremiah and Marion Webber, two now retired but esteemed members of The Right Hand, and they had already had two children that had manifested psychic abilities as they reached their teenage years. Much of the same was expected of Netta. However, while her sister, Blythe, grew up to become a rather splendid lawyer, and her brother, Julian, continued rising in the ranks of The Right Hand, Netta was quickly falling short of their loftier positions.

Quite short. The psychic abilities that Netta's family so highly prized never manifested in their youngest daughter. Nor did the fancy education, as unlike her siblings, Netta dropped out of college in her first year. From there she floated from job to job, never staying in one place too long as something always seemed to go wrong.

It was almost like she was cursed, Netta's sister had mentioned offhandedly one day. To which Netta had totally played it cool and definitely had not nervously laughed the remark off. Because at that point, Netta had confirmed that she was in fact cursed.

The source of which was a strange silver dollar coin, or rather, some sort of occult object that she had touched while at a Right Hand dinner party when she was young. A cloud of bad luck and misfortune had followed her since, as had the coin, which almost seemed to find its way back to her no matter what efforts she took to get rid of it. Trying to throw it away or destroy it didn't work. Nor did the exorcists she paid to cut the connection she had to the thing. It always found its way back to her. And with it, a string of constant mishaps and misfortune that plague Netta's life.

Writing Sample:

A Bittersweet Victory

First days were always a challenge.

She had spent many a restless night just hoping that nothing would go wrong and then inevitably being crushed when it did. But this time, Netta wasn't waiting. Something was going to go wrong. She expected it, and she was damn well going to prepare for it.

Two alarm clocks were set, and she'd set another on her fully charged phone. She had an outfit picked out and a back up outfit just in case. She'd taken a night shower, decided to forgo morning coffee all together, and got a granola bar for breakfast since her toaster hadn't recovered from the event that was her interview for this job. The image of it erupting into flames was still too fresh in her mind.

Feeling content and prepared, Netta allowed herself to fall into bed. For the first time in a long time, Netta slept peacefully during the night before a first day of a new job.

It was sunlight crossing over Netta's face that woke her instead of the blaring sound of three alarm clocks. She blinked blearily awake, her sleep addled mind at first not raising the alarm. Or lack of alarm.

Netta shot up in her bed and grabbed the alarm clock on the nightstand. The digital numbers blinked 00:00 at her. It had reset.

"No. No, no, no, no," Netta begged. Fumbling, she scrambled out of bed to her alarm clock on her dresser. It was battery-powered. Surely it should have worked? She half collapsed against the dresser and she kicked off a bedsheet that had tangled around her leg and squinted at the clock. The digital face was completely blank as if the battery had died in the middle of the night.

Now half in a panic, Netta grabbed at the nearest set of clothing she had, managing to catch her toe in a particularly threadbare area and ripping it a bit more than it should be. Her phone? Why didn't her phone alarm go off? She flipped through it with building fury and clumsily tied her hair up in a loose bun. The alarm was there, set for the correct time, on, and…set for the weekend.

"Motherfuc---"

A flock of pigeons on the balcony of her apartment cleared off.

For a moment she stood stock still, caught between a torrent of despair and rage as she stared at her phone. In her periphery, she could see the coin sitting in the middle of her kitchen table as if it wasn't the cause of all this misery. A box of granola bars she had purchased the day before sat next to it.

Quietly, Netta stepped forward, pulled a granola bar out, and tore the packaging with her teeth. She took and bite and chewed slowly. There was nothing wrong with it. 17 minutes before her first day with Ackehurst was supposed to start. She might be a minute or two late, but she could make it. Granola bar in hand, Netta raced the whole way there.
 
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A.J. Axtel
The Contractor
  • i
    ii
    iii
    iv
    nicknames
    A.J. is short for Alexander Jasper
    age
    Thirty
    Star Sign
    Tuarus
    gender
    cis man he/him
    sexuality
    bisexual
    Hometown
    Boston
    Roles
    Crew (Contractor) + amateur ghost hunter
    art credit
    Jeniak
coded by natasha.
 
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III.
the sound tech
scroll.















ghost in the machine
sza feat. phoebe bridgers

THE BASICS

NAME: Charlotte Rosemary Kallagher
NICKNAMES: Charlie
AGE: 25
GENDER: Cis-Female, She/Her
SEXUALITY: Fluid
PRIMARY ROLE: Former Podcaster Former Cloutchaser Sound Technician
SECONDARY ROLE: Cursed (Object-Based)
SOCIETY MEMBER: "Huh?"

SELF

FACECLAIM: @victoire.slm
NOTABLE FEATURES: A weird birthmark behind her ear that kind of looks like Pusheen if you see it from the right angle.
POSITIVE TRAITS: Charismatic: Charlie oozes an energy of enthusiasm and passion. She has no problem socializing and finds ease with interacting with people of any background or age group; she somehow manages to find a common topic to talk about, a humor that lands regardless of a person’s tastes, and an inquiring nature that makes the person on the other side of the conversation feel important and heard. She’s always one to start a party and won’t leave until it’s almost over. Optimistic: Tries to see the best in a situation, an especially credible feat considering the blows she’s been dealt in her own past. Sharp: Has a remarkably good memory that helps her recall even minuscule details from past conversations or studies; quite intelligent, especially when solving logic-based problems, when she actually tries to apply herself.
NEGATIVE TRAITS: Self-Serving: While often times unintentional, Charlie often puts her own self-interests before others’. One could say this comes from being the youngest child, it’s not a trait that Charlie ever truly grew out of. In most relationships, she can mask this with her sociable and likable persona, but in longstanding relationships (such as that with her two siblings), her selfishness is a glaring and lasting issue. Distant: Charlie has a very stunted ability to be emotionally honest with others, seeing as how her friendliness is almost always only skin-deep. When it comes to being vulnerable with someone, she would rather avoid the topic and move on to a shallower topic. Hedonistic: Extremely indulgent in distractions from life’s problems, Charlie has become dependent on both drink and substance to help cope with her life’s biggest aches. She’s skilled at compartmentalizing and can appear very put together when not indulging in her vices. Short-sighted: Charlie’s curse has left her living in a day-by-day survivalism that often doesn’t encourage her to look far forward. When it comes to long-term plans, hopes, or goals, she comes up empty. Most decisions she’s made, whether negative or positive, have been made on a whim.
MOST AFRAID OF: (The Lady in the Mirror.) Hospitals/Doctors. Ending up alone.
PUBLIC IMAGE: Those who know Charlie at her most basic level find her quite likable. She’s easy to talk to and has a disarming manner, accompanied by an equally warm smile that well suits her. She’s accumulated a decent-sized fanbase from her show, and is known generally to be friendly and interactive with her fans. Within the ghost-hunting and supernatural blogging community, she has a fair and overall positive reputation, and most other ghost enthusiasts have concluded that her story seems not only well-documented but credible. To those who are most close with her, especially her family or closest friends, she is still extremely likable on the surface, though hints of paranoia, selfishness, and irrational decisions peek through often. She can be cruel to those she loves, especially her older sister and her mother.


THE PAST

How did they get their secondary role/how did it come to be?:

When your sister was born seeing things that other people can’t, it comes with risks, you’d guess. The curse Charlie carries now was brought back into this world by Val when they were just kids. Like a chronic disease, Charlie eventually learned to curb her resentment into apathy and offer her sister words of forgiveness, and adapted her life to fit with the curse’s limitations. While the logistics of doing so have come easier to Charlie over the years, the paranoia and uncertainty of having a monster trailing her at all times has done irreversible damage to her already stunted emotional maturity.

How did they get involved in Ackehurst?:


Forced against her will Recruited by her sister, Valerie.

How long have they been with Ackehurst?:

Checks watch Twenty minutes.

WRITING PROMPT [DISCOVERING SUPERNATURAL ENTITY] AND BACKGROUND

How can you get to know who you are if you can’t even look at yourself? What a fucking question.

Some of it isn’t that deep. Questions like … What do I look like with an ashy blonde versus a golden blonde? Are my roots showing? Is that zit as noticeable as it feels? Does this shirt make me look nine months pregnant? Instead of deciding for yourself, you have to ask for the pure and unfiltered honesty of friends, a commodity almost impossible to find in Los Angeles, where opinions are as fake as the filler in the lips they come from.

Some of the questions, though, … you really wish you could find out for yourself. Questions that only can be answered by staring at your own two eyes for hours on end. It’s like, maybe if you glare at yourself for long enough, you’ll reveal things about yourself - your true colors, or whatever the adage is. Maybe you can divulge your deepest desires, like Harry Potter did when looking into the Mirror of Erowhon or whatever it’s called. Your likes, your dislikes, your loves, your hatreds … Those kinds of queries go unanswered when you can’t look at yourself anymore.

Charlie hadn’t looked at herself in a mirror in twenty years.

She could thank her sister for that. Val was always different. Gifted, some of the adults in their life would say. Charlie was just Charlie.

Val could see things that Charlie didn’t. A trick that Charlie thought was fun for most of her earliest years cooped up in their plush New England home. Charlie followed her older siblings like a dog, always begging Val especially to play Barbies with her or push her on the swing outside. Sometimes, when they went on vacations to visit their dad (he was always jetting off somewhere on business), Val would say she saw someone and Charlie would look absently into the blank space where she pointed. While, at first, Charlie thought it was mean of her older sister to keep tricking her like that, she soon came to believe Val when she said there was something else there. For the most part, though, the intrusion of other entities into her childhood were but fleeting glimpses in an otherwise happy childhood.

That was, until Charlie saw one too.

More often than not, having a crystal clear memory was a thing of beauty. Always scoring high at pub trivia, never having to study much for tests, Charlie found the skill to be useful time and time again. But times like these, sitting here and remembering that day when her life changed, she wished she could recall it with less precision. It was September 12th, three days after Charlie’s fifth birthday. They’d just moved to Japan in the summer. Their house in Futako Tamagawa was spacious, though smaller than their home in Massachusetts. The floorboards in the sitting room were stripped raw and had wet footprints trailing back and forth from the rear door, their mothers’ mostly. It was after lunch. Their dad was gone all day, always up before the sun rose and commuting downtown in a car that picked him up at five-thirty on the dot. Mom’s apprehension and loneliness from the move to a foreign place was finally transforming into a frenzied productivity. She woke up yesterday morning and decided to transform the old, creaking house into a home that was truly and undeniably theirs. Yesterday, she’d enlisted Dad to help her tear up the mats from the floors after a long day at the office, and today she was hard at work stripping decades-old wallpaper from the walls. Trash bag after trash bag was filled with the yellowing strips and dumped into the cans out back. Her brother, Chris, helped Mom some until he got bored and instead busied himself with his N64. Val and Charlie were playing around the house, not yet tired of the wonders that came with living in a new place.

They were running through the halls, playing something reminiscent of tag but with Charlie swatting at Val with a broom when they saw it. A glint of shine through the half-revealed walls in the sunroom. Curiosity capturing them, Val and Charlie tore off the paper covering the glint to find an old and rust-dusted mirror behind the wallpaper.

Charlie remembered the fear that came over Val’s face, not a look simply of worry or apprehension. Pure fear, the kind that soaked through the eyes and discolored the skin, her mouth contorting in a silent wail. Charlie looked into the mirror but saw nothing. Charlie remembers asking Val if she saw someone. Val nodded that she did.

As she grew older, Charlie learned that what they’d come across was an ungaikyo, a malevolent spirit trapped within the mirror. Though decades without being seen had weakened the spirit, Val’s susceptibility to the supernatural caused her to see it immediately. In a turn of unintentional events, Val released the entity from the mirror. For days, the being stalked through the house, haunting first the girls and then, eventually, the rest of the family. Their father paid the worst price. The spirit had been hunting for a new host for survival, and eventually, the spirit latched to the younger and livelier of the siblings, Charlie. To this day, she and her sister have been unsuccessful in finding a way to banish the spirit. It holds to her like a shadow - never gone but not always unbearable. The lady only crept closer to her in reflections. If Charlie didn’t look, she learned, she could keep the monster at bay. The solution had kept her alive for twenty more years.

So yeah, she could thank her sister for it, if she were in enough of a good-humored mood. In some ways, she guessed aversion to her own reflection was a kind of gift. She didn’t worry so much about appearances. In fact, she’d pretty much abandoned the idea of looking decent. Without the shock of catching herself unkempt in a reflection, Charlie didn’t care much for the motions of seemingly useless tasks - ironing shirts, scrubbing out a ketchup stain, styling her hair. She didn’t try clothes on before buying them, afraid of what was glowering at her if she accidentally caught a glimpse of a fitting room mirror.

She didn’t drive, abandoning the idea when she realized the risks of looking into the rearview or side mirrors. She made a habit of closing her eyes rhythmically at the pause between tv shows and commercials, not daring to look at the reflective black screen. And like any New England teenager, she spent long afternoons lounging by pools and lakes, though she’d taught herself never to look longingly into the glistening blue waters for fear of seeing herself and the other.

And yet, her life didn’t become simply about avoiding her reflection. More importantly, it was the ever impending fear of seeing her again - the figure that waited for her when she did look. The fear runs Charlie’s life. Just bubbling beneath her beaming smiles and well-timed jokes is a vicious dread of when she will see her next. Would the party she’s going to later have mirrored ceilings or reflective windows? Would she accidentally see herself in the glint of a passer-by’s sunglasses? Which of these slips would finally bring the woman close enough to take her, just like she took their dad?

When she was younger, Charlie resented her sister for what she brought upon her. After all, if it weren’t for Val’s ability to tap into the other side, Charlie’s life would look a lot more normal than it does now. As she got older, though, Charlie came to accept it for what it was. Val didn’t mean to. Besides, lingering on what-ifs was a futile misery that neither of them needed. Dad was long dead and half-buried.

Charlie was gifted from the cradle with her father’s charisma, her infant smile lighting up rooms before she even grew teeth. She could find just about anything to talk about with the most foreign of strangers, connecting humor across any culture or age range, with a smile as warm as the sun and eyes kind enough to sucker just about anyone into liking her. But she also inherited her mother’s paranoia, her fear, her tendency towards vices.

Computers. That was her future, she guessed.

When her father met his early end and the remaining family abruptly moved back to the States, followed swiftly by their mother all but abruptly quitting their lives, Charlie gave in to the temptations of a swiped bottle of vodka or the occasional blunt from the “bad crowd” in school. Though she struggled in school as a result of coping with the curse and with her family’s imminent dissolution, Charlie was still bright in her own ways. She was tech-savvy, taking much after her dad, who’d built a small empire on computers in the late 1990s. Charlie herself as a whiz at website development, making the #1 Twilight Fan lexicon site by the age of 13. When she made a crowdsourcing site at the age of sixteen to help farm animals in need, she earned herself a comp-sci scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania. An Ivy League education was a godsend, especially to their family. The surviving Kallaghers wholly relied upon their father’s life insurance policy to get by, yet their mother’s wasting of a big portion of it in her own downwards spiral left them in near destitution.

Charlie knew from the jump that she couldn’t cut it. Two months in and she dropped out of college, choosing instead to bum it with a disc jockey from Sweden named Aksel. She followed him out to L.A. at the age of nineteen and spent the next few years hanging around the influencer crowd.

Once or twice, Charlie shared with the likes of random nepotism babies and Instagram influencers the woes of her upbringing, including the absolute killer party story that was the haunting of the ungaikyo; whether or not people believed it was fine, it didn’t matter. A natural storyteller, casual and intriguing, Charlie’s showmanship never failed to enthrall those around her. A few within her crowd convinced her that her story was just what she needed to get in big with the supernatural and ghosthunting blogger community. At some of their insistence and guidance, Charlie started her own podcast at the age of 21, accompanying it with its own website. The first episode was of the Ungaikyo story, the later episodes exploring lesser known but equally as horrifying tales of modern hauntings. The first season was successful enough to garner a substantial fanbase and sizable financial gains. She currently has 550K followers on Instagram, which she will never not mention to someone.

As Charlie had honestly come to expect from herself, good things didn’t come easily nor did they last for long. By just past her 25th birthday, things were falling apart. The podcast was popular as ever, but the business side of it was wildly mismanaged (how was she supposed to know that the podcast was expected to pay taxes?). Swedish DJ locked her out of the apartment without much of any warning, having warmed up to a Brazilian underwear model named Kalina. Deciding to drown out her problems with a night of clubbing in Hollywood, Charlie - in her inebriation - caught sight of the woman again in a bathroom mirror. Too unnerved to sleep, Charlie pushed herself a little further than she had before, mixing some things that she probably shouldn’t have. She woke up two days later in a hospital bed, newly gutted, with Val appearing like a ghost from her past to whisk her back to the East Coast to help her “recalibrate herself.” Now back in her old stomping grounds, Charlie is currently sleeping on a pull-out couch in her sister’s basement, wool blanket and throw pillows galore.





charlie kallagher.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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Name: Hidalgo Hane
Nickname(s): Lighting
Age:38
Primary Role: crew
Secondary Role: Surveyor
Society Member?: Has ties to bisco but is a lone hitter/dreamwalker
Gender/Pronouns: male last time i checked
Sexuality: Straight

THE SELF
Appearance: https://th.bing.com/th/id/OIP.URXrfclUpYgdT1FkD9KvuwAAAA?pid=ImgDet&rs=1
Notable features: He has a three medium claw markets across his right shoulder from a fight with a wraith
Positive Traits: Quick on his feat and with a sharp/creative mind, he can take a lot of pain due to both mental and physical damage sustained over the years and because of rigorous training. A natural leader, even though he worked well alone, when he is in the group he does his best to make sure the group is cohesive because he knows that makes the difference. overly prepared
Negative Traits: finds it hard to make friends due to emotional damage as kid, some what aloof, over thinks so it's sometimes hard to switch off
What are they most afraid of?: losing more close ones, and being possessed and killing their team mates
Public Image: Fixing shit storm events and turning them around for the people he's with

THE PAST
How did they get their secondary role? How did it come to be?: Bisco sometimes hires him because he has a knack for working out details much quicker than many and starts to put a picture together from all the info around him and inside his head
How did they get involved in Ackehurst?: He was recommended by a senior hunter because of his skills and ability to keep teams alive even when things are going south because of his quick and creative thinking on many a mission.
How long have they been with Ackehurst?: half of his life on and off
Brief Background: For as long as he can remember, he realized he wasn't a normal kid and could feel there was another world, Because of his constant struggles of his weak body as a young boy, he often floated between life and death growing up, sometimes accidentally going into others dreams. When his body finally stabilized, he spent the next several years training his mind and body. On one of the missions, things went south, but he pushed a teammate out of the way and took the attack of the wraith. He's been on many missions since then and has kept the team together no matter the cost. Some would say he's a freak and should have died a long time ago even he wonders if he's human at times.

let me know if it needs editing
 
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  • Mimi Ismail.
    part of the crew.


01.
02.
03.
04.
05.
code by birth of venus.
 
Last edited:






II.
the blessed swordsman
scroll.
















THE BASICS

NAME: Harlow Tulach
NICKNAMES: Hit them with one, they won't expect it
AGE: 33
GENDER: Fluid. Any pronouns - they/she/he.
SEXUALITY: Pansexual
PRIMARY ROLE: Tech
SECONDARY ROLE: Exorcist
SOCIETY MEMBER: The Order of St. Hubert (loosely)


THE SELF

APPEARANCE: Harlow looks more like someone you’d find lounging at a bar, smoking a joint than someone bustling about in real estate setting up to ensure that a job goes off without a hitch. Rugged, handsome in a ‘off the streets’ way with wind-whipped curls that brush against the shoulders where a leather jacket rests on their shoulders, freckles dotted across their face and a smile that creases from a scar across their lip.
NOTABLE FEATURES: The sword strapped to either their side or back (a license for which they have tucked in their wallet), a trusty motorbike that is favored far over cars, cross earrings that are a touch on the nose and an engagement ring that to this day they still wear.
POSITIVE TRAITS:
A job with Ackehurst doesn’t give time to meander and overthink while out there working and truth be told, Harlow does plan to go home each night after they finish up. Dependable, organized and quick on their feet - Harlow will get in and out, preferably without leaving behind any more sanity than they can afford.
NEGATIVE TRAITS: Workaholic. Distant. Stuck in the past. As much as they are good at their job, sociable interactions are shallow as they come. They’ll poke and prod at the personal lives of others, but drape vague answers over their own past. A one-sided friendship can only go so far, but work comes before facing the old haunts of the soul.
MOST AFRAID OF: Cemeteries make their skin crawl and fingers twitch to twist the ring round their finger. The thought of becoming ill makes their stomach churn and a cold is enough to send them straight to urgent care in worry.
PUBLIC IMAGE: Three years haven’t been quite enough to build up a reputation around town especially when their lips are tight to their own affairs. They will answer all questions about their sword and job, and none about the why and how.


THE PAST

How did they get their secondary role/how did it come to be?:


A small town, a dust filled church and a community that welcomed them in with open arms. Religion and the supernatural came hand in hand, with their ability to use their sword as their preferred method of exorcising encouraged.

How did they get involved in Ackehurst?:

Money was in dire need, and with their skill-set, they were desperate enough to settle even for a company dealing with real estate. The thought of houses wasn’t appealing, but nor was returning back to a small town with familiar faces creased in pity for there was nothing there for them anymore except a grave.

How long have they been with Ackehurst?:


A solid three years.

Brief Background


Harlow was supposed to be a hunter. That was the plan, written into the books even and fated by a lineage that spanned back decades. It didn’t matter what they personally wanted because family was family, and at the end of the day while they were handed a sword - they never quite learned how it applied to the actual hunting process. It was a stick in their hands, a clunky piece of metal that they did finally end up learning to swing but that was it. They were skilled, practicing against dummies in a room tucked away in a large estate until one day they sat their mother down and told her -

So what now?

The insistence to become a hunter wasn’t taken well and the two butted heads; a teenager on one side and a frazzled mother hoping to keep her child out of harm's way on the other. There was pressure on all sides and in a bout of fiery temper - Harlow was out of the house and on the road.

The church was a blessing quite literally. A run-away teenager with little to their name and a sword in hand was a sight to see and it’s a surprise that the authorities weren’t called at first sight. They were taken in and under the guiding hand of the church obtained an education in theology and a calling to religion. It began to solidify from another path chosen for them to what they believed in when their sword was handed back into their hands - this time blessed and holy. It had become an extension of their body, and soul and in turn faith.

WRITING PROMPT

Prompt Choice: Bittersweet Victory


“So the sword, is it a fashion statement or…” the man’s voice faded out, staring at the blade in their hands with a mixture of morbid curiosity and shock. He’d deserted the work he’d been doing instead to start up a conversation, a lack of customers chipping away at his energy.

“Test it for yourself and let me know whether or not it’s real.” It had been a joke, fired off light heartedly in response at the statement but out of the corner of their eye they could see him reaching out and they swatted his hand away. “Dude. If it is real, you’ll lose a finger or two.”

He wouldn’t, considering the blade was now being slipped back away to be concealed, but they could see him mulling over the thought as he ran a finger over his still-attached appendages. Whatever question they saw flash on his face wasn’t voiced and the topic change was welcomed.

“So kiddo, what are you doing in this part of town?”

This part of town referred to a run-down bar a mile from the major highway. It couldn’t even be called a town, three shops smack in the middle of a plaza seconds away from turning into rubble and considering they had ordered a nonalcoholic drink to spare their sanity they wondered if they had been tagged as early twenties. The toy jingling on the keys they’d smashed down didn’t work in their favor either. Kiddo, well, they could work with that.

“Looking for a job.” Harlow shrugged, the glass clinking against the counter as they leaned forward. “ I’m just traveling, seeing where the wind takes me, you know? Any recommendations?”

“Where are you from?”

Another shrug from Harlow, tone flat as they attempted to veer the conversation back. “Small town in the middle of nowhere. It’s not even on the map. I can tell you that much. So I’m looking for something more exciting.”

For the second time in the whole conversation the shop owner bit back a response, watching their expression with the trained eye of a man who had spent years working with customers. It made their skin crawl to feel scrutinized, each word picked apart but he gave in and instead slid a newspaper across the counter.

“Try Boston.” The headline read ‘Are you looking for a job?’ “I’m from there myself. I found myself there in the past.” There it was again, the searching look, the question unspoken. Those who passed his run-down shop and sat for hours with a drink didn’t do it out of a need for excitement. It was done out of a need for a place to ground them.

That left a bitter taste in their mouth, even with the final swing of a sweet drink as Harlow nodded. “Thanks for the drink, old man,” the now empty glass slid across the counter with the thanks and the newspaper found a place crumpled in their pocket. Boston it was. A big city in which they could drown in the crowd of faces.

“Take it easy kiddo.”

The last the owner saw of them was their hand waving bye, trailing out of the door.




harlow tulach.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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