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Title Colour Code: a2798f title font fontmeme cursive "precious" size 65, subheader size 40

Colour Code: ADDBD8 -- Isaac
Colour Code: DBADB0 -- Raphael






TESTTEST
TESTTEST
TESTTEST





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As long as you can remember, you've known you were different.

Don't worry, everyone else did too; the mark around your wrist made sure of that. Some of them looked at you with envy and fascination, others with pity. Maybe a few even shunned you. Maybe the attention bothered you, but you were probably more concerned with that feeling in your chest. That bizarre tug. That longing. That feeling of desperately missing someone. But who?

Maybe you've been searching for them; maybe you're not holding your breath. It's tough, right? Unless you live in a massive city you've probably never even met someone like you, and even then your chances were slim. You probably saw people like you on TV though, in movies, online. Talking about it. That feeling you're missing. About being complete, finding their other half. The movies probably tell you how great it is; celebrities on talk shows might say otherwise. Maybe you've read up on your condition, learned the boons it can grant when things work out. Learned what can happen if they don't.

Are you scared? Excited? Have you been looking at the moon each night, wondering if your other half is looking too? Are you holding out hope that by some miracle your paths will cross? After all, it happens to some people. Why not you?

Well, your chance – probably your only chance – may well have just arrived. You got a letter, in one of those fancy envelopes made out of thick embossed paper, addressed directly to you. It's got one of those cool old-fashioned seals on the back, pink and blue wax swirled together and imprinted with the shape of a lotus. The letter inside looks hand-written, written by people like you, inviting you to attend an event that may well lead you to your other half. Seems sketchy, right? Maybe, but something made you send back your answer, and now you've got all-expense-paid tickets to go spend a week in luxury and take that chance. Think you'll find your destiny?

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This RP takes place in the near future of our world, with a few little changes. For one, the existence of souls has been generally accepted by all but the most insistent of skeptics as the only currently viable explanation for the Fragmented phenomenon. Afterlife theories, however, remain as varied as ever.

Miraculously, the world hasn't fallen into anything like nuclear war or environmental ruin, so there are no apocalypses, looming or otherwise, to be concerned about. As well, since we won't be too worried about the state of the outside world, you're welcome to mess with it a little. Want to create a small island nation for your character to be the prince of? Go for it! Fictional huge corporation to inherit one day? Feel free. If you have any inquiries or just want to see if what you have in mind is feasible, I'm all ears.



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On the far bank of the lake sit five large guest houses, all sharing a central boat house jutting out over the water. Each is identical, two storeys tall with a finished basement and a panoramic sitting room making up the third story. The main living area features a two-storey vaulted ceiling with a floor-to-ceiling window facing the lake, and the second story loft open to the area below. A diagonal portion in the south houses the kitchen and behind the living room are five bedrooms. To the north of the living area is a spiral staircase leading up the turret into the third storey, which houses a sitting room with glass walls overlooking the mountainside to the east and the lake to the west.

Upstairs are
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Name: Feliks Shvets
Age: 23
Bio:
  • Mother was one of the palace seamstresses to the Romanovs, father was a brief fling, never seen again
  • Grew up in a servant house near the palace, spent his days there keeping busy doing odd jobs while his mother worked
  • As a ten-year-old he goes looking for his mother one day, finds her doing a fitting for an extravagant gown with princess Katerina. Sees Katerina in the dress, with her blonde hair, and thinks she's an angel.


Siege:
Siege happens when Feliks is 11 and Katerina is 9, the Bolsheviks storming the palace in the middle of the night in winter. Feliks' mother was staying at the palace that night, working hard with the other seamstresses to complete a set of new ball gowns for the princesses for an upcoming Christmas ball; Feliks, meanwhile, sleeps on a pile of fabric in the drafting room. Amidst the chaos of the siege, Feliks is separated from his mother. As he searches for her he sees Katerina running and Bolshevik troops chasing after her and he follows, scared that they might hurt her despite only having met her up close that one time. When Katerina is cornered, he intervenes by kicking out the knee of the guy chasing her; the shot the guy was going to fire at Katerina misses as a result, breaking the window behind her. The guy turns and hits Feliks on the head with his gun to knock him down, shooting him quickly, but this gives Katerina enough time to escape out the window, getting cut on the leg on the way out by a shard of glass in the frame. Meanwhile, the shot fired at Feliks had been poorly aimed, hitting him in the leg near his hip. The blow to his head knocked him out, and he bleeds from his gunshot wound; Bolshevik troops find him in a final sweep looking for Katerina. Thinking him dead, they haul him out and pile him up with the other bodies, where a commoner finds Feliks still breathing and takes him to a hospital.

Meanwhile, Katerina has fled into the city slums, and passes out in an alley after having a bit of a breakdown. She's found in the morning by a worker at a local orphanage, who finds her practically frozen and takes her in. The Bolsheviks had seen evidence of a gunshot and blood trailing off in the snow, and assume Katerina was shot and bled to death wherever she went. Satisfied that there's no way she could have survived a frigid winter night with a gunshot wound, they presume her dead and do not search for her. When Katerina wakes up in the orphanage, her mind has blocked out her trauma, leaving her with no memory of who she is or where she came from. Her nightgown is tattered from the window, and embroidered with the name "Katya" on the sleeve, so the orphanage assumes she is a street child who took the nightgown from somewhere and, with nothing else to call her, dub her Katya.

Weeks later, when Feliks has finally recovered enough for the hospital to let him go, he immediately returns to the castle in desperate hope that he might find his mother. He searches the whole place, but there is no sign of her aside from a bloody smudge on the floor of the corridor leading to the drafting room. Elsewhere in the palace he finds another former servant, a teenaged boy, who tells Feliks that he saw his mother get shot dead. Utterly shocked and feeling guilty, thinking he might have been able to save her had he not chased after Katerina, Feliks wanders the palace in a daze, eventually coming upon the room where he had helped Katerina escape. He sees the stain of his own blood on the floor, the broken window and the blood on the glass. On the floor near the window, though, he sees a necklace; the pendant is in the motif of a jewel-encrusted Faberge egg on a long gold chain. Fascinated by it, he keeps it.

Plot:
  • Feliks grows bitter and cynical over the years, never getting over his guilt surrounding his mother's murder and regretting helping Katerina in lieu of finding her; he considers selling the necklace multiple times, as it is a painful reminder of his mistake, but he can never bring himself to do it. He never tells anyone about what happened that night, instead always saying that he was at home in the servant house during the siege.
  • He gets a job as a tailor's apprentice to honour his mother's memory, and by the time he is an adult he is a skilled tailor. However, the communist regime left the people poor, so the market for tailoring is very bleak; needing money, he figures out that while tailoring is dead, forgery is a booming business, as people are desperate to escape the bleakness of communist Russia.
  • Hates the Bolsheviks and what they've done to Russia, but won't join any dissidents because he thinks nothing will come of a revolt but bloodshed.
  • On the same day the rumour starts to spread that Grand Duchess Katerina might still be alive and that her grandmother, the Dowager Empress, is offering a reward to find her, Feliks happens upon a woman named Katya, who is looking for papers to travel to Paris. Seeing that she looks remarkably like the Katerina he remembers and surprised that she has no memory of her own past, Feliks has an idea that he could pass her off as the Grand Duchess for the reward money.
  • He takes her back to the palace, where he hasn't been since he went back that day after the siege, and shows her around; when they pass by the section of the palace containing the drafting room and the room where Katerina escaped, Feliks gets emotional and says there's nothing down there for them. The pair continue on past and find archives about the Romanovs, deciding to study up so Katya can pass as Katerina. They decide to set up a little encampment there, Katya having no place to live and Feliks currently wanted and more or less in hiding, and stay there for some time, Feliks teaching Katya everything he remembers about royal manner.
  • At some point he shows Katya the necklace, and she immediately opens it, revealing that it's actually a locket containing pictures of Katerina and the other Romanovs.
  • At some point Katya decides to explore the part of the palace that Feliks has been avoiding, finds the room where she escaped and it triggers memories of her trauma and she freaks; Feliks comforts her and distracts her by telling her the story of when he saw Princess Katerina and thought she was an angel. Katya puts herself in Katerina's place in the story, thinking she's making up the details until she realizes she's actually remembering them, recalling a part of the story that Feliks hadn't told her. Feliks realizes she really is Katerina, and doesn't know what to do.


Misc:
  • Feliks has a thin scar on his forehead above his left eyebrow from where he was pistol whipped during the siege, and he walks with a bit of a limp, his leg never having returned to full function after the gunshot wound. His injured hip hurts him when he gets up in the morning (feeling better once he gets moving) and if he has to walk a lot, or if it's cold or rainy (it's got hella arthritis but he doesn't know that).
  • He's a smoker, and drinks when his leg is really bothering him
  • Secretly misses tailoring
  • Still sometimes thinks about Katerina even though he resents her (despite thinking her dead)
  • While Katya is so focused on her past, Feliks claims to have forgotten the past and only care about the future, even though he's been dwelling on the past his entire life and still hasn't gotten over it
  • The tailor he apprenticed under was a former tailor to a member of the imperial court, and he retained his stuffy high-society mannerisms out of spite for the Bolsheviks. He required that Feliks learn to be a proper man ("You must be a man of class to dress one") and taught Feliks proper poise and manners, and also how to dance. Feliks was never a good dancer, impeded by his limp, and hasn't danced since he first learned, though he'll find that he does remember how.



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Ariella Landry

Eldest daughter of House Landry

Female | | 20 | | Riverman



Birthplace: Willow Wood, but Fallow Hill is home.

Allegiances: House Landry, House Tully

Occupation: Noble

Relationship Status: Unmarried

Sexuality: Heterosexual


History



Personality



Appearance



Notable Possessions



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⚜ Respects /// ☯ Neutral /// ☮ Friends /// ♫ Close Friends /// § Tense /// ♥ Interested /// ⚤ Significant Other /// ☠ Enemies /// ♦ Unsure

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Ariella I
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Max
Feliks
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Interacting with: [Hero] [Scribe of Thoth] mentioning [Trainerblue192]

Aaron kept his eyes on the group in the seats as Varis explained, and hearing him refer to Salem as Count Astorio’s “pet” finally jogged his memory. He’d seen the tall vampire in Affinity Mastery, up on the balcony. He hadn’t paid any mind to him, but now Varis was talking as if Salem belonged to him. But that didn’t make any sense. Salem was Lucan’s vampire. Right?

He was tempted to ask, but Varis only paused in his reprimanding to snap his fingers at him and issue a command, claiming Aaron’s attention. Making a mental note to ask Lucan about all of that later, he shoved his concerns aside in favour of his task, offering only a dip of the head in acknowledgement before he set off up the steps. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it out of earshot in time to miss Eris and Varis’ conversation picking up.

“Unfortunately, I feel you would enjoy him far too much to train him properly. I believe it's best he stay with me; although, you are more than welcome to visit him if you wish.”

Enjoy him? How? That stone in Aaron’s stomach grew heavier, and the reactive side of his mind immediately remembered their “preparations” before dinner, and Varis’ lewd suggestion on night one. It took a conscious effort not to look back, Aaron instead looking to Salem and Lilie. Lilie was still visibly uncomfortable, and when he caught her eye he shot her a serious look, darting his eyes toward the exit in a silent signal he hoped she’d understand as “leave.”

Salem, on the other hand, was stressing him out. Had he learned nothing from their ordeal at dinner? He’d already lost so much standing on his soap box with the Queen; was this really the hill he wanted to die on now, preaching respect for mages to an Astorio? Because Aaron wasn’t sure Salem knew how legitimate a possibility that really was. He sincerely hoped Salem learned well from those etiquette lessons Princess Ryner had placed him in; if he kept carrying on like this with nobility - or any vampire, really - he was liable to end up getting himself killed.

As much as Aaron would have loved to drag Salem out and knock some sense into him, he’d have to leave that task to whichever etiquette instructor he ended up with; “immediately” meant “immediately,” and Aaron was already all too familiar with Varis’ objections to hesitation. By the time he reached Max he’d only half-heard whatever sarcastic comment went with that tone, though the look of utter contempt on his face was clear as the moon in the sky. Aaron kept quiet until they were out of the building, waiting until the door had fully closed behind them before giving Max an incredulous look of his own, gesturing back at the lecture hall. “What was all that about?”
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Interacting with@Hero and @Scribe of Thoth

Aaron all but jumped back when a hiss sounded from behind the study door, followed a moment later by an off-the-cuff insult and a threat he didn’t care to think too hard about. Comparatively gentle to what he expected, all things considered, and he was content to hurry back into his bathroom and out of his clothes without further inquiry. Nope, he did not care for Varis’ “guidance” again. But at least his first instinct had proven true, he’d remember that for the future. “Hurry the hell up when Varis is hungry” seemed like a safe enough bet.

He showered quickly, though he did remember Varis’ tip about leaving his conditioner in longer and paid careful attention to his neck, and soon enough he was out, putting clothes in his hamper and pulling out fresh ones. This time he chose a pair of black slacks and another white shirt - luckily he had no shortage of those - but didn’t put it on just yet, opting for the long-sleeved black crew neck from earlier. An awful combination, obviously, but only a temporary one for feeding, just like he’d planned that evening.

Only about ten minutes had passed by the time Aaron returned to the study door, knocking a little more hesitantly this time. “I’m ready whenever you are, Master,” he called, before remembering what he’d been told on his first night. “Emotional state is… generally fine. Slightly nervous.”

“Enter and sit.” Varis ordered as he looked over the page he’d written, ensuring everything dried evenly. He had been concerned about the section that the boy interrupted during but his worries were unnecessary. It was perfection. As if he’d produce anything less. Varis looked up as Aaron settled, eyes immediately drawn to his neck as his hunger made itself known again. He still remembered the taste he had the other night and he strode over to Aaron.

Varis stood in front of Aaron for a moment more before using the boy’s chin to expose his neck, tilting his head back and away to give the Count easier access. The darkness in his eyes faded and they slowly brightened as he put a knee on the chair between the mage’s legs to support himself. Tightening his hold on the boy’s head, Varis pressed his fangs gently against the boy’s neck and held it there for a brief second to give the boy time to prepare himself. Then in a single movement, Varis pierced the boy’s skin and drank.

He closed his eyes and gave an involuntary groan of appreciation as the warm liquid burst over his tongue. Orange and cloves overwhelmed him with that perfect kick that bottles always missed, the pleasant zest of living. Varis let himself indulge, drinking just a bit deeper knowing he wouldn’t let himself have this again in the next few days. He lapped at the wound hesitantly, sucking out what last bit he could get as the wound shut itself, and he sat back against the boy’s desk with eyes closed to revel in the sensation of fresh blood in his body again.

Holding very still, Aaron was actually grateful for the Count’s grip on his head as he aligned his fangs; the consequences of misplaced punctures weren’t fun to think about, and he didn’t want to be accidentally moving. After the initial butterflies and burn of the bite, though, Aaron’s nerves faded away, body and mind overcome with a pleasant warmth. His head got light as his body got heavy, whatever tension was left in his muscles relaxing. His headache was all but forgotten as he allowed himself to savour possibly the only moment of serenity he’d have that night, eyes sliding closed as a grateful sigh escaped him.

To his chagrin, the feeling didn’t linger quite as long as the first time, and he mostly came to his senses shortly after Varis drew back, though a pleasant calm did still linger. As he gradually came back to his senses he noticed a red smear on the still-entranced Count’s cheek, however, accompanied by a drip down the side of his chin. Automatically his hand went up to his neck and absently prodded the spot where he’d been bitten, more curious than alarmed. The wound was healed, of course, but wet; when he brought his hand away, his fingers were stained red.

“...Ah-ha…” Aaron murmured, still a little dazed as he examined his hand. A knock on the front door made him look up, and he stood, making his way out of the study and down the hall to the door on autopilot. In the remnants of his feeding stupor he opened the door without a second thought, only to be greeted with the sight of Eris and Max.

Bloody neck forgotten, Aaron blinked at the pair for a moment, eyes a little glazed and wondering if feeding had made him more confused than he’d thought. Still, he turned back into the dorm just the same. “Master, Mr. Samael is here,” he called, glancing back at Max inquisitively, “with... Mr. Alderman.”

Varis originally ignored the knocking, reveling in the feeding and expecting the boy to send the interloper quickly but that name made him sigh. He'd brought this on himself after all. He ran a hand over his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles that popped up during the feeding, and forced himself to move to his own desk. He wasn't about to let them see him so defenseless after a feeding. He picked up his quill, put the other page in front of him, and began working on the next letter.

“Send them in. Tell Eris I'm in the study.” He responded calmly as he worked. He felt the euphoria fading far faster now that he had a task to do.

Aaron turned back to the pair in the doorway, stepping aside and beckoning them in. “Master’s in the study, sir,” he parrotted, offering a dip of the head to Eris before closing the door behind them. Once they’d gone through he went straight to his room to clean up, loath to present himself so poorly in company any longer. On his way through the doorway he reached to close his own door behind him, only to come up empty once again.
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T̸̻͚̳̗̟̜͇̫̻̠̝̝ͮ̂ͧ̄̒ͭ͛ͮ̂͐͑ͤͬ̅̈́̇ͤ̂͗͠͡͞ͅͅE̶̷͖̰̳̩̺̝͙̖̭̝͈̝̖̳͙ͣͧͧͨ̈̐͛̉̉́ͬ͛ͧ̋ͯ̚͞͡S͙̹̗͍̳̬̹̖͍̝̞̅ͯͯ́͊̓͐͋ͤͨ̇̽ͥ́͝Ť͗̅͝͏̮̠͍͙̯̖̞̮͈̪̹͕̠̰
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Somewhere out of a memory
of lighted streets
on quiet nights
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