Ezra gave Arabelle an apologetic frown as Tansy swooped in and began to pack her mind full of enough emotional baggage to properly supply Arabelle for an extended guilt trip. He massaged his temple as he broke from the pack and leaned against the patio railing, staring like a shell shocked soldier at the snow covered trees past the hedges. Tansy was correct about one thing: their family enjoyed disagreeing with one another and arguing in circles. They were so eager to put in their own two cents that they didn’t give anyone a chance to expand on what could be a million dollar idea.
You’re the experts! Ezra had caught the look Tansy had thrown his way. It was the same look she gave when she sided with James when Ezra argued business with him. He knew she didn’t have any idea of what she was agreeing to, he just knew that she enjoyed undermining him. He snorted out a silent laugh as Georgie told Tansy to shut up, thankful that his back was turned to the family so they couldn’t witness his amusement. He wiped his expression blank and spun back around to enjoy the theatrics.
"And you are a whore after James's own heart. At least you know what condoms are for," said Georgie.
“Well this family already has one mistake,” said Tansy after recovering from the initial shock with a smile so full of shit it was clear she meant Georgie. Was the “academic” so sheltered by her puritanical school life that she thought slutshaming would set Tansy to tears, as if she hadn’t spent her whole adult life dealing with hushed whispers about her proclivities? Did she really think calling her a pretty decoration would cut her down? Why would someone as accomplished as Tansy even care what an emotionless, useless little bitch thought about her anyway? Yet as she spoke her eyes watered, her face flushed, and her hands began to shake. Even her fake smile faltered as she spat out the rest of her thought, “I wouldn’t want to make another.”
Ezra watched with a look of disinterest as Tansy turned and briskly made her way towards the tea set, her hands trembling and spilling a bit of the kettle as she topped off her mug. Some were clearly done. Some of the others were still attempting to do a brainstorm—Ezra grimaced when Blu’s attempt to offer assistance was quickly shut down. A part of him worried about what the ward would say of his dysfunctional family to the townies once this was all over. A part of him felt sorry for Blu having to deal with everyone’s ego. Ezra rolled his neck and rubbed his shoulder. He felt a migraine coming on, enhanced by Oscar’s joke about a family picnic. Had he even eaten today? He needed a cigarette.
“Perfect weather for it. After that we can invite the Wiccans out for ice cream,” said Ezra with a sniff. It was a rare joke accompanied by an even rarer smile from their oldest brother. He looked tired. “It sounds like we might’ve actually formed a plan. So in summary, we attempt to contact the turncoat and bring her to a secluded location. Potentially we can get some info from her, but considering how on edge the Wiccans might be it’s more likely they’ll follow her. So we spring an ambush, capture one of them, send the rest fleeing, find out where this Triple Goddess is, and hit her before the Wiccans can regroup.”
It wasn’t a perfect plan. Ezra wouldn’t even call it a good plan. Still, it was a better plan than spending another moment freezing his ass off outside while watching his siblings continue to trade barbs and propose more asinine ideas.
“So where’s the meeting taking place? It’s gotta be somewhere private in case the Wiccans come in full force.”
“Daddy’s clinic,” said Tansy into her tea. She rubbed her cheek, straightened her spine, and turned around to face the others as she elaborated, directing her attention to Ezra and Justin. “I own a lot near the woods in East Araminta. It’s for a rehab clinic but it’s little more than a construction site now. The area around it is all abandoned buildings and empty lots.”
“I’m surprised you’d offer up your pet project. You’ve seen what happened to the house.”
“It’s insured,” said Tansy.
Ezra didn’t like how pleased she sounded. He turned to Justin, “Does that work?”
Cut away the vines or they'll suffocate your own growth.
While the others finished their shopping and returned to the cart, Solange busied herself by prepping a potion to ease the fire burning in Maréngo’s stomach caused by last night’s carousing and nothing more. She leaned forward from the barrel in which Neh’miah was pickling and set down her handwritten journal in front of her. Detailed diagrams of stems and leaves painted the pages between the fine, flowing script of her notes and recipes. Shorthand and jargon popped up like weeds throughout the paragraphs, making the writing almost nonsensical to anyone but the author. It was intentionally obtuse by design. Solange didn’t want any prying eyes to suss the nature of some of her more sinister serums.
She paused on a page and pulled roots and leaves out of her pouch. A vial was produced next, knocking against the one filled with the true culprit as she removed it from her bag, followed by a flask of clean water. Her hand disappeared up her sleeve to retrieve a foldable pocket knife. The well-maintained blade shaved off a slice of ginger root. She chewed the ginger vigorously, breaking it down to a pulp, and spat it into the vial. A pinch of salt followed, joined with a few crushed, dried leaves milled between Solange’s fingers that left the tips a deep crimson. She filled the vial with some distilled water, so focused she didn’t even spill a drop as Skarsat loudly cracked Neh’miah’s barrel right behind her so the poor thief wouldn’t suffocate, and put her thumb over top of it to give it a shake.
Her eyes paused on the tainted coffee vial secured in her pouch. There was still room in the potion for a little more liquid. She glanced over at Maréngo. The sailor wasn’t without his sharpness, but he was distracted with his new pet and the kindly gesture of making him a stomach soother was all Solange really needed. Yet her cheek still stung from Skarsat’s slap, prodding her towards the sensible choice. She passed the vial to Maréngo and clocked one of the Sheriff’s men behind his shoulder as Y’vanna set some crates on the cart.
“Here you are, my love. Drink all of it now. It may not outright absolve you from revelry’s revenge, but it shall stymie some of the more severe symptoms. Avoid alcohol—I know, darling,” said Solange, feigning a pained expression and clasping a hand to her heart, “—and drink plenty of water. As well, as adorable as Pyka is, save the rest of those plantains for yourself. They’ll help amplify the elixir.”
A protective hand shut down to her satchel as Nora jerked the reins, setting the cart in motion. A dark cloud of frustration stormed past Solange’s face as she quickly gathered her gear before it could slip off and sat back against the barrel with a huff, knocking poor Neh’miah yet again. She let her legs dangle from the back of the cart, kicking them as they slowly progressed through the market. The cries of the gulls from the nearby dock stirred up a feeling of excitement. This was actually happening. The moment the boat set sail she would be free from both her obligations to Fontaine and her false promises to Vargas. She put a hand up to her mouth, disguising a chuckle as a clearing of her throat. What was the split Vargas had offered? Sixty-forty, minus the deductions she owed? It was fortunate he never spoke with her sister. Perhaps then he’d know that she wasn’t good at sharing.
The sun felt nice on her skin and the future looked bright. Nora and Y’vanna proceeded onward with all the seriousness of a funeral procession as Pyka whined on Maréngo’s shoulder, but Solange felt like playing. She turned towards Skarsat with mischief on her mind, but the thought was suddenly shaken by the sight of another of the Sheriff’s men. No, this was the same one. A strange coincidence? He was looking their way, but was he actually watching? Solange stared directly at the guard, raised a closed fist up next to her chin, and pumped it twice as she puffed out her cheek. The raised eyebrows and turn of the head confirmed her suspicion.
Solange’s brow furrowed as she straightened her back and stretched, using the moment to scan the crowd. She recognized a few other of the Sheriff’s men, some from this morning and some from nights at the Red Sail Brothel. They were positioning themselves apart, posting up at crowded intersections or in front of alleyways. Solange looked over her shoulder past Nora. It was becoming clearer that they were being funneled. She turned back and the first guard she had vanished into the crowd. In his place she saw Gerranti on the move with a look of determination on his face. I would advise none of you to be around when I find this Neh’miah. Gerranti’s warning echoed in her head. Son of a bitch, they’d been ratted out!
“Don't look behind you, sweeties, but we've been outplayed by the Sheriff. It appears like his whole constabulary is here to charge us for the crime of smuggling absolutely fucking stupid cargo,” said Solange, venom dripping from her voice as she eyed the crate of alchemist fire. She turned her head towards Nora. “Darling, can this thing move faster?"
Tansy stepped carefully to avoid the debris scattered through the halls of her childhood home as she assessed the destruction done by the Wiccans. The estate appeared alien with its scorched walls that had been broken through and flooded floors had been unearthed, winter’s chill drifting through the shattered windows of the dining room. She had not been home at the time of the attack, having opted out of Oscar’s little meeting to wrap up some business of her own, but Ezra had filled her in on the details after he picked her up after dropping off Arabelle. She’d maintained a sense of composure in the car, more focused on her breathing than what he’d been saying.
However, now walking through the Wiccan’s wake she felt her lips tremble in a suppressed rage. Supposedly Shane and Sabrina had tracked them down. It was likely the people who’d assaulted their house and attacked her family were the same kind of people that she and James had dedicated themselves to helping. No, calling them people was too considerate—they were a pack of wild dogs. Tansy rubbed her hand to sooth the perceived bite as she glared at the chair James used to sit in, an empty throne shattered and ruined by rabid upstarts. It was decided then and there that those dogs would learn a lesson. She just had to find somebody to hold them down while she rolled up the newspaper.
It was time for the meeting. She dawned a long double-breasted wool coat, wrapped a scarf Sabrina had given her from a previous Christmas, and made a quick pit stop before heading outside. She stopped before exiting, eying the mug in Arabelle’s hand but noticing the distinct lack of warm beverages for everyone else. Ezra had dismissed the staff for an indeterminate amount of time except for the girl, but just because she was injured suddenly she had the right to only help herself? In a huff Tansy turned and stamped towards the kitchen, grabbing the kettle, a stack of mugs, and a silver serving tray. If she’d been given more time she would’ve prepared some hor d'oeuvres. By the time she joined the others on the patio her head had cooled significantly, although she still bristled at the evening chill. There were plenty of rooms untouched by the raid. Why the need to risk all of them getting pneumonia?
Tansy set the tray down on a table and began pouring drinks for everyone. She listened intently, secretly pleased to hear the majority of the family favoring a direct confrontation. The Wiccans wouldn’t expect an immediate retaliation. A quick little show of force could send them scattering like rats. Raze the resort to get back at them from destroying their house. Follow it up with a few appearances at their home or place of employment. Make them realize that no place is safe for them in Araminta. She lifted the tray back up and began to serve tea to the group, first to the guests and then to the family. Only Arabelle and Georgie remained unserved, and only because they had helped themselves. She was careful not to interrupt the proceedings, smiling kindly and retreating quickly as she dropped off a mug. She tried to hide her wince as the conversation switched from aggression to negotiation.
Ezra considered the proposition that Georgie hid the skull in the Garden. It was better than anything he could come up with off the fly. He withdrew his hand from Arabelle and motioned towards Georgie, nonverbally relinquishing the ownership of the skull to his little sister. He made a face at her suggestion that they bunker down. It wasn’t much of a face, a lowering of the eyebrows, a tightening of the lips, and it faded the moment a chorus of voices rose up against the idea. He dipped into his mug, a wave of steam cascading over the top as he let a sigh of relief escape into the tea. Turning into stone wasn’t the only thing that cursed his family—they were all blissfully unaware of the cost of anything. Preventing further damage to the household was one of the higher priorities.
He glanced back up at Arabelle. She did have a way to contact the healer, right? He felt himself grow antsy and took a sip of the tea. Ezra did not swallow. Something tasted off. He took his tea straight, but this mug had been fixed up with honey and milk. It was the way James took his tea. Ezra frowned and looked at Tansy. Was she trying to mess with him? He doubted someone like her, who fretted over everything and always demanded to be involved, would make someone the wrong cup. He forced the liquid down and set the mug on a patio table.
Tansy served Shane last, slipping up beside him as he finished. Tansy handed him a mug and directed his attention with her eyes to the flask hiding in her coat pocket, careful to angle it so that only he would see. Perhaps it was a small gesture at a peace offering to quell the awkwardness between the two who hadn’t spoken much since last Christmas. Perhaps he’d just think that she was only trying to poison him, but they both knew that he didn’t need her help with that. She held her hand in front of the mouth to prevent any would-be eavesdroppers and leaned in.
“It’s good to see you’re alive. I made ours extra special,” she said softly before taking a sip of her own mug, the burn from the whiskey warming her better than any herbal tea would.
The corner of her lip twisted as her eyes narrowed, a cruel barb forming on the tip of her tongue. She pressed it against her cheek and frowned, a chill coming off of her shoulder as she turned from him. Once one of her favorite siblings, she’d yet to forgive him for dropping off the face of the world when they were in New York. Tansy shifted her focus to Arabelle, whom everyone wanted to hear from regarding if she got the healer’s digits or not. Tansy bit her inner lip and hid her contemplation behind the steaming mug. Then, her face brightened. Tansy stepped forward to wedge herself between Ezra and Arabelle, butting in before they could dominate the decision making.
“Arabelle, honey, your hesitation makes it all too clear. It’s fine. We won’t be upset if you don’t have a way to reach her,” said Tansy. Her voice was saturated in sweetness. “Perhaps it’s for the best? Just imagine how bad you’d feel if that woman had been trying to set us up and someone got hurt. How horrible it’d be knowing that it was your fault, worrying that the family might accuse you of being in league with the Wiccans, thinking what if I’d only kept my mouth shut?” Tansy's tone fell flat, her eyes stared down at Arabelle without blinking. Then the sweetness returned with a smile and head tilt, “You must be relieved and there’s nothing wrong with that! You’ve already done so much for this family. If you need help with anything while you’re out of commission, let me know.”
“Speaking of helping,” Tansy turned towards Tuyen, giving Arabelle room to finally breathe. “My family might seem like they enjoy disagreeing with one another and arguing in circles, but we were all raised to do the right thing. This is our cross to bear and it’d be wrong to shove all of the weight on to someone else. We’ll all help you two deal with the Triple Goddess. I mean, you’re the experts!" She laughed sharply, shooting a dismissive look towards Ezra. "You tell us what to do.”
Wrapped in a warm cashmere coat, Ezra remained quiet as the family started discussing what to do with the Wiccans. He almost appeared bored, watching the others with a neutral expression that hid the fact that his mind was going a million miles per hour trying to figure out a good argument against confronting the cult. Ezra didn’t buy Justin’s theory that his family would be subjugated to many more of these types of encounters, or maybe instead of not buying it he just didn’t like it. Going against the cult as if it were some kind of training exercise seemed like the equivalent of going to jail and stabbing a guy so other people didn’t mess with you. Maybe it’d make people think twice about jumping you for a pack of smokes, but you’ve just guaranteed more time in prison when you should’ve really been focused on finding a way to get parole.
There had to be some kind of alternative. His first thought was that they should pass on this information to the authorities and leave them up to the law instead of some brazen, old school style of frontier justice. He quickly dismissed it. Either they’d look like lunatics trying to explain to the sheriff how magic is real, or they’d have to omit the cult's powers and be culpable for the severe injury or death of a handful of policemen who got thrown around like chew toys. Trisha’s suggestion that their experts handle it made Ezra think that perhaps they could reach out and hire a few more people like Justin or Tuyen, but he threw that idea out even faster than the cop one. If James had something that the Wiccans wanted, it stood to reason that other so-called experts might covert things in his collection as well. The tighter all of this was kept the better. Oscar bringing in Blu was already compromising, but he understood his half-brother’s logic.
Shane spoke up, stepping one foot into Camp Confrontation that the experts had set up and Oscar had so eagerly plopped down his sleeping bag. Even Trisha, who made it clear that she didn’t want to sit around the campfire and sing kumbaya, still wanted the Wiccans dealt with. At this rate the whole family would be sharpening sticks before Ezra could come up with a compelling argument to convince them to cool their heads. Shane was right about one thing—the cult was likely to do something stupid the moment they felt cornered and Ezra didn’t want Araminta being synonymous with Waco or Jamestown.
He felt his shoulders relax as Arabelle spoke up. Her words confirmed a suspicion he had about how unorganized the Wiccans were. They’d used their names, shown their faces, and left tracks so obvious the amateur sleuths and a drunk could follow. This healer could be their ticket to avoiding a direct confrontation. At the very least they could get a sense of what kind of people the Wiccans really were. Perhaps some of them could become resourceful once given some proper guidance. If Justin’s crackpot idea that his family would face greater threats became true, it’d be nice to have a few more pawns on the chessboard. Ezra stepped forward.
“I agree with Arabelle. We’re missing a lot of pieces to this puzzle and if that healer can illuminate things for us then we’ll better know how to deal with the Wiccans and their Goddess. We could end things without even lifting a finger. Cults work because they create an us versus them atmosphere. If we confront them then it’s just like Shane said—they’ll feel cornered and desperate, and desperate people do dangerous things. But we offer them a way out? We may earn some gratitude. I say we meet with her and let her know that we’ll forgive and forget those members who agree to abandon their cause. Best case scenario she could help us unravel their little cult and win over a few allies. Worst case we know that negotiating is no longer an option and can plan accordingly,” he said.
Ezra hoped that his reasoning would convince his family from grabbing the torches and pitchforks, at least until they talked to Arabelle’s contact. He withheld the idea that isolating their healer would make things easier for them if things once again came to blows. He glanced at the ram skull in Arabelle’s hand. She’d kept it safe, but she’d been injured in the process. He’d read enough of James’s ramblings to know that they couldn’t just destroy it, and the uncertainty of the Wiccan’s powers made him uncomfortable with the idea of leaving it unsupervised, even if it was inside of a vaulet. He furrowed his brow and looked at the others. One of them should hold on to it, only…
Ezra sighed. It wouldn’t be right to volunteer anyone else as bait. He gave Arabelle a tight-lipped smile and held out his hand, “In the meantime I’ll hold on to the thing until we figure out what to do with it. Maybe we could seal it in cement. I’m going to be getting quotes for construction work all day tomorrow anyway.” He didn’t ask if anyone else agreed with him. It was better to act as if this was already the decision. He was right, but just because he was right didn't mean they'd listen. If they were committed to confrontation he'd have to help them. He just hoped that none of them realized that, giving them pause before doing something ruinous. “So, do you have a way to get in touch with this woman?”
“The world has never seemed darker. Be the shining light that’ll bring about a brighter tomorrow."
_______________________________________________ Tansy Monroe Vanburen
She/Her | 35 | American |5’9” | 150lbs _______________________________________________ Gilded _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "I’m just playing my part. Anyone in my position would do the same." ___________________________________
[Hostess Mostest] ⫻ Tansy has spent the better part of her adult life rubbing elbows with the social elite in support of her father’s philanthropy efforts. She’s graduated beyond being a basic socialite into being a full-blown party planner who has organized several charity and fundraising events, set up art exhibitions and debutante balls, and hosted extravagant dinner parties. If there’s a ritzy social event happening in Pennsylvania or New York odds are that Tansy’s involved in some shape. [Rumor Mill] ⫻ Gossip gravitates towards Tansy like spiteful little meteorites and she’s mastered the ability of flinging the rumors back into outer space for them to be disappeared into a blackhole. Somebody’s got to keep daddy’s reputation untarnished, especially as the grace period of speaking ill of the dead expires. Alternatively, she’s more than capable of adding the necessary oomph to a rumor to really get it going, turning a minor freckle on one’s surface into a socially catastrophic extinction level impact. [Tennis Ace] ⫻ She’s been playing the sport since grade school. While by no means near a professional, Tansy stuck with the game enough that James eventually added a court to the mansion’s grounds. He said that it was out of fear she’d start trying to beat the house’s walls in a match after she’d worked her way through the staff and her siblings. [Horse Girl] ⫻ Of course she wanted a pony when she was a little girl. She just happened to be one of those little girls whose daddy was rich enough to buy her one. She typically goes riding several times a week.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I’m expected to look my best and I always outdo the expectations."
Tansy presents herself in the old-fashioned mold of a “proper” lady, all primed and poised while veiled in the drapes of modesty and sensibility. She tends to overeunciate her words and enthusiastically moves her hands as if she were conducting her own sentences as she speaks, almost as if she were a kindergarten teacher talking to her young students. Thriving on the spotlight, Tansy carries herself in such a way that not only does she make people think she is important but she also makes them question their own value.
Her blonde hair falls below her shoulders and the ends are constructed into loose curls. Her darker eyebrows are meticulously plucked to perfection, her lashes are long, and her eyes are big, bright, and blue. Laugh lines and a beauty mark are the only source of blemish not hidden by creams or concealers on her pale skin. A polite smile is seemingly fixed upon her face, serving as a social shield she can deflect her sharp tongue off of so she swallows any spiteful words instead of performing a faux pas. Her nails are manicured and sharply filed.
She is tall and doesn’t shy from high heels, allowing her the pleasure of another way to look down upon others. She has a shapely figure and stays fit through her various outdoor hobbies, capable of displaying a level of athleticism unexpected of a woman who basically throws parties for a living. Her wardrobe is lavish in price and quality yet modest and conservative style, trending towards a vintage look that she’d define as timeless. Tansy is almost never seen in the same thing twice and insists that she donates most of her old outfits, yet several rooms in the manor are dedicated towards storing her clothes.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I was raised with a strong moral compass, so I'd appreciate it if you just let me give directions."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Tansy says she desires to make the world a better place, although that’s just the shallow textbook response she’s been regurgitating since the Miss Araminta pageant she won over fifteen years ago. It’s become a lot clearer lately: Tansy just wants to be adored.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ The best life is the one she has absolute control over. Tansy believes that people can be divided between being a sheep or being a wolf. However, Tansy knows that she is different; she is no animal. She sees herself as a shepherd, someone who can protect the flock of sheep by controlling where they graze and flay the pelts off of the wolves hiding amongst them.
SEXUALITY ⫻ She’s straight. Tansy has taken after her father when it comes to long-term relationships. If she brings a man home for Thanksgiving by now the family knows there will be another by Christmas. Until recently she hasn’t technically been single since the eighth grade, but since the funeral she hasn’t been dating.
FEARS ⫻ She has a massive fear of rejection. Tansy is openly afraid that her reputation and the Vanburen name will be tarnished by her family. The amount of effort she puts in to appear to be a perfect, polished princess can be so quickly dismantled by one of her indignant siblings making an ass of themselves. Conversely, she wants those siblings to adore her as much as those rich elites minglings at her wine mixers. She endlessly worries that she alienates herself from her family, yet continues to project this image where she sees herself as their superior.
Tansy is also so terrified of driving that she never learned and struggles with anxiety attacks even when just being a passenger. She limits her travel by car as much as possible, lest she run the upholster by death gripping the leather. These fears do not arise in other forms of transportation.
REPUTATION ⫻ She’s Araminta’s favorite daughter. Despite a few rumors of promiscuity flying around, Tansy has a squeaky clean reputation in town and has been lauded for her efforts in assisting the town in tackling its troubles through charity work and fundraising events she’d organized with her father. While a few of the “rougher” individuals around town might consider her a bit hoity-toity and question her motivations, it’s difficult to deny the good work she has done for Araminta. Even those naysayers have seemed to be coming around ever since James’s death.
Tansy's reputation within her own family is dubious. She attempted to establish herself as the matriarch of the household, treating her siblings with a smothering presence of saccharine sweetness that would rapidly swap to veiled insults and passive-aggressiveness when they questioned her authority. It didn’t help that she was notably brusque with the staff, treated most of their mothers with thinly veiled hostility, or attempted to monopolize their father’s limited freetime in hopes of continuing to seal in her spot as “the favorite”. Although she regularly tries to keep in touch with everyone as they’ve left the nest, it was difficult for many of the Vanburen children to see Tansy as anything but a holier-than-thou fake.
THOUGHTS ABOUT FATHER ⫻ Tansy absolutely adored James because Daddy, as she worrisomely refers to her adopted father as to this day, gave her everything she ever wanted. While the other children tried to flee from out underneath his shadow, she fully embraced living in the shade. He was a great man and she plans to honor his greatness by opening a rehabilitation clinic in his name. She won’t stand to listen to any hearsay about his relationship struggles or his own substance abuse. Daddy was a hero and he deserves to be recognized as one.
FLAWS ⫻ Tansy is a control freak who is quick to send others on a guilt trip when they do not do things the way she wants them to be done. Although she isn’t a stupid person, she is one of those frustrating individuals who believes she is smarter than she actually is and struggles to accept others as being able to come up with a better idea. She turns disagreements personal, acting as if attacks on ideas are attacks on her as a person. As well, she isn’t above threatening to spread malicious gossip to get someone to acquiesce to her will.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "It's silly but I just cannot imagine what my life would've been life if he hadn't chosen me. Less champagne, I suppose."
James Vanburen adopted Tansy when she was barely a toddler. She cannot recall anything from her life before, but when growing up she suffered from recurring nightmares of shrieking voices, a blinding light, the sound of metal grinding on metal, and an intense cold. She liked to imagine that James saved her from a terrible life. Nightmares aside, her childhood was wonderful, an idyllic life spent waited upon by other people and granted whatever she wanted. Compared to the other children, Tansy was spoiled by James. It became clearer to her when she realized he’d picked her from dozens of other children up for adoption. James had other kids, but he’d chosen her. She was special, and because she was special she knew she couldn’t let him down.
By the time she was a teenager, Tansy had taken it upon herself to become the, as some of the staff teasingly called her, lady of the estate, organizing family dinners and prepping for holiday parties. She often found herself at odds with James's current wife, but always tried to harness the affection of his other children to various levels of success and failure. A fear of driving meant she spent a lot of her later teen years on the estate horseback riding or playing tennis with her latest boyfriend, occasionally whiteknuckling a ride into town for a change of scenery or riding her bike there when she didn’t want to fight off a panic attack.
As an adult, Tansy stayed in Araminta but did not attend the local college. Rather she doubled-down on her dedication to assisting James and began organizing and hosting fundraising events to help him tackle the city’s drug epidemic. She found she had a knack for calling the shots and began to oversee more of James's charitable endeavors, allowing her father to galavant off on wherever his business took him. Her talent for event planning became noticed by the limited pool of Araminta social elite and she began taking hosting requests for other exquisite events.
Eventually, Tansy found herself soaring amongst the socialites, hosting galas in Araminta and nearby major cities. She inevitably began to split time between Araminta and New York City, ideally commuting by train and subway whenever possible, and spent her adulthood drinking out of champagne flutes, hosting galas, and guilting the rich into returning a paltry amount of the money they’d exploited from the poor to boost their social standings. Life was perfect. Tansy could not be happier. She enjoyed planning events and saw a successful evening as proof that what she did was important.
Call it self-centered but there was nothing she enjoyed more than planning the Vanburen Family Christma every year. It was James’s favorite day of the year after all, and she spent weeks of hard work making sure everything was just right. Weeks that only took his ungrateful bastards minutes to ruin with their bickering the moment their precious little egos got scratched. The image of her father’s sad, tired face as he drained his Manhattan, poured himself a whiskey neat, and closed his library’s door in her face is etched in her mind. The next day she was planning his funeral. The extra burden kept her from lambasting his children. It’d be perfect. A perfect funeral to honor a perfect father.
Only she couldn’t go. How could she possibly stomach seeing James in a box surrounded by a carnival of bastards and social parasites? How could she bear to witness one of them make a mockery out of something she helped create again? Tansy feigned being ill and sequestered herself in the manor. While alone in the house she heard the sound of a glass shattering come from James’s room. Knowing that all the staff had been given the day off she felt a cold dread take hold of her as she approached his closed door, an otherworldly light pulsing from under the door. She froze in fear as her hand touched the handle and then she heard a choir of voices in her head say, “Do not be afraid.” She opened the door, screamed as she witnessed the horrifying form of what lies beyond, and was swallowed by its golden light.
Tansy couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. The creature was gone but she could feel it in her head. The choir chimed up again, telling her to be calm and so she did. It introduced itself as Dominion and told Tansy to consider it as an old so-called business partner of James. It just wanted to see the man one last time and pay its respects, but given the circumstances of its appearance needed a host. What better host was there than Tansy? She found that she couldn’t possibly disagree with Dominion. She joined her family at the graveyard, a bore witness as her father was buried in the ground. She felt her head swirl and then there was no more input from Dominion.
The following day she’d rationalize it as a delusion caused by intense grief. She returned to New York shortly thereafter with the goal of raising funds for a new rehabilitation clinic in Araminta named after her father to honor his memory. However, she found that her typical donors were not so interested in pursuing a pet project that offered little prestige. At least that was the case before Dominion began speaking to her again. It offered its power to Tansy to help win over her investors, insisting that it would be its own way of honoring its old business partner. Dominion explained to her what it could do. At first Tansy was a bit apprehensive, moral quandaries and all, but if it was for the greater good then she couldn’t say no. She accepted Dominion’s deal and fully became adjoined with the Apparition. She found little difficulty securing funding since then.
Tansy moved back to Araminta to drum up local support for the rehab clinic and to settle on a location to build it. She purchased the nicest apartment she could find downtown so she could avoid commuting. Tansy made a decent headway on finding a lot in East Araminta where she could begin construction after winter. However, she didn’t plan on spending the holidays at home. No matter, it’d be nice to have everyone around again. What other choice did they have?
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Do not be afraid, my sweet submissive subject."
TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Adjoined)
ABSTRACTION ⫻Dominion’s Majesty, the ability to take on an otherworldly form and subjugate someone who witnesses her.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻Dominion’s Majesty allows Tansy to unleash the Apparition hiding inside of her and manifest it. When Dominion is manifested the Apparition tries to mesmerize a being of Tansy’s choice, attempting to snap them into a hypnotic stupor. Someone without an emotional field is almost immediately enchanted, unable to take their eyes off of Tansy and allowing her to turn them into a subject that she can command with simple verbal orders. If she does not issue a new command upon the completion of an order then the subject returns to its hypnotic state and await her next demand. Tansy can seal Dominion to release her subject from its hypnosis or to cancel an order. Upon releasing a subject they regain their consciousness but are unaware of what happened or what they did as if they were sleepwalking.
Alternatively, Tansy can choose to fully possess her subject by touching them and staring into their eyes for a handful of unbroken seconds. However doing so enters her own body into a hypnotic, nearly defenseless state. While in possession of her subject she has absolute control over them and can access their memory, allowing her to pass as them in conversation, stockpile dangerous secrets, or get her ego battered by finding out how somebody really thinks of her. To one of the Blind it would be almost impossible to tell the difference between a person and Tansy possessing a person. However, someone capable of witnessing the Extra-Normal could catch the occasional flicker of gold in their eyes when they are hit by a bright light. Tansy can end a possession at will, immediately snapping back to her body and freeing her subject. As with her orders, they do not recall the possession.
Emotional Fields absolutely hamper Dominion’s Majesty, turning Tansy’s divine right to reign into a monarch’s brutal attempt to quell a peasant rebellion through pure attrition. The worst thing that typically happens to her unruly subject with an Emotional Field when she manifests Dominion is that they experience a temporary flash of blindness and rush of fear. As long as Tansy is using Dominion’s Majesty on this revolting peon, they will continue to be blinded when looking at her as if they were trying to stare into the sun. As well, they will begin to feel the horror of Tansy’s royal mandate breaking through their Emotional Field. Looking away almost immediately frees a would-be subject from Tansy’s grasp (as does forcing Tansy to divert her gaze), but if they do not or cannot they will eventually be snapped into a hypnotic state just like the Blind.
However, unlike the Blind an Extra-Normal subject of Tansy’s can attempt to resist her orders, either following it out ineffectively or even completely breaking free of her subjugation. How hard it is to resist an order depends on how unlikely her subject would’ve done it on their own free will. For example, telling someone who doesn’t like violence, “Don’t hurt anyone!” would be almost impossible to resist because they wouldn’t hurt anyone in the first place, telling them, “Don’t hurt me, hurt him!” would make it more uncertain if they would follow the order fully or not, and telling them, “Don’t hurt me, but kill that bastard!” almost certainly wouldn’t work—nor is it something that Tansy believes she would ever request.
Theoretically, Tansy could attempt to possess an Extra-Normal. Honestly, Tansy fears that doing so might allow her to be Abscised by the very being she possesses.
While the target of Dominion’s Majesty either cannot see Dominion or is blinded by its Majesty, those around Tansy can witness it—although what it is difficult to say. Upon first manifesting the Apparition, Tansy’s eyes ignite in a golden light and her voice echoes as if it was backed by a choir. Her skin begins to glow and radiate, clothes and hair flowing as if they were in a warm, heavenly breeze. Eventually, a halo of light emerges from behind her head, growing in its radius until it seems as if it were about to swallow Tansy whole. Beyond her in the circle of light, accompanied by the beating of wings and the cries of some otherworldly language harmonizing with Tansy’s commands, lies Dominion, its form an incomprehensible nightmare that wavers and shifts like a mirage as it stretches out towards its herald, looming closer and closer but never quite reaching her. Not yet, at least.
AURA SENSING ⫻ Dominion watches over Tansy while she is in possession of her subject. She can detect the aura of entities within 10 meters of her body, although she cannot determine their identity.
LIMITS ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)
WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Now I know you’re probably all tired of hearing from me, but—"
Tansy has recently begun to have her childhood nightmares again.
_______________________________________________ Ezra James Vanburen
He/Him | 38| British American | 5’11” | 175 lbs _______________________________________________ Shrewd _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Everything you do is a reflection of yourself." ___________________________________
[Serious Business] ⫻ With an MBA from an Ivy League school and several years of managing private companies for James, Ezra has the knowledge and experience needed to successfully run a business. Time management, project planning, leadership, and organization skills all fall under the umbrella of Big Business, so while he might not be taking them to market he can still help keep the Vanburens from going into the red. [Networking] ⫻ Ezra is owed favors by many of the small businesses in Araminta and has friends in high places from his time at university. He’s relentless when it comes to getting things from people he knows or finding people for things he needs. [Meticulous] ⫻ Ezra has a sharp eye and is extremely organized. He quickly notices subtle differences and tiny faults. It’s rare for him to be caught off-guard, be unprepared, or appear untidy. [Puzzling Behavior] ⫻ The man has an obsession with puzzles and has the patience and discipline to finish them. He tends to always have a crossword puzzle to pull out every moment there is a hint of downtime, but jigsaws are his favorite. Just about every Vanburen has received one of his finished puzzles as a gift at least once.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I used to lie and tell people I was adopted when they said I looked like dad. Always got an interesting reaction."
Ezra almost always seems as if he has just awoken from a deep meditation where he achieved inner peace. His calmness is infectious and spread by his dulcet voice and his effortlessly relaxed posture. He’s the kind of person that is impossible to picture running after someone, or dropping something they are carrying, or ever doing that awkward thing where they try to avoid walking into someone only for both of them to juke the same way three or four times. To others, it seems like there isn’t a graceless bone in Ezra’s body. It’s just the most annoying thing ever.
His light brown, medium-length hair is well-maintained and styled in a “messy” look that takes an enormous amount of time to achieve. Ezra’s beard is neat and trimmed short with hints of greying nearing his sideburns. His light skin is immaculate and soft to the touch, the signs of someone who properly hydrates and actually pays attention to the recommendation of using sunscreen even on cloudy days. His hooded eyes are big and brown, and when he smiles the skin at the corners wrinkles ever the slightest. Perhaps uncoincidentally, Ezra’s full smile is a bit of a rare sight. Instead he trends towards tight-lipped smirks accompanied by bashful head tilts when pleased and an unblinking, withering stare when unamused.
Ezra is of an average height with a decent trim build that is only maintained by a healthy diet, the occasional walk, and the rare trip to a gym that generally starts and does not progress beyond the steam room. Due to his rather lax and posh lifestyle, he is almost cartoonishly weak—or perhaps he plays it up out of sheer laziness, often sending others to fetch things for him just so he can continue to lounge on the chaise. His wardrobe is simple but fits well and is of high quality, with a tendency towards cashmere sweaters.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I can control myself and nothing else."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Really, the man just needs a break. Ezra is looking to escape the current responsibility he has as the business head of the family, but he has stated many times over that he won’t relinquish control until he is certain that stepping down won’t hinder the future of Araminta or the Vanburens.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Ezra views the world through a scope of negativity that sets his expectations low, because he knows that high hopes only makes the fall hurt so much worse. However, he is not strictly a pessimist, or at least he doesn’t consider himself one. He’s a realist, and reality can be a pain in the ass. His views fall in line heavily with Stoicism, believing that the bad in life is unavoidable, natural, and yet wholly possible to survive through. Therefore, he shouldn’t even worry about the terrible things. Instead, Ezra tries his hardest to only worry about the things he can control—namely, his own actions and feelings—and strives to be a virtuous, just person who always does the right thing. In other words, he wants to be perfect. Sometimes, it’s a maddening task.
SEXUALITY ⫻ If it ever was questioned or brought up, Ezra would likely shrug and say that he was straight. If Ezra was to consider his sexuality with more than just a shrug he would identify more as a demisexual than a heterosexual.
FEARS ⫻ In theory, Ezra believes that he has nothing to fear. It’s the creation of an overactive imagination, a negative emotion heightened by the desire for a different outcome. Things happen, and that’s all they ever do. He has a sense of indestructibility. In actuality, he is terrified of being hypocritical. He strives to be a good person that isn’t controlled by his emotions, but he questions his own authenticity all of the time. It’s a fear that feeds upon itself. The more he worries about being a hypocrite, the more of a hypocrite he sees himself to be.
REPUTATION ⫻ Reliable but severe. Ezra served as a business consultant and occasional manager for the many mom and pop stores James acquired. James Vanburen might’ve been Magnanimous, but he didn’t want his investments to be money pits. If a business was in a bad enough spot that it needed a bailout to survive, then something needed to be changed about its management and focus—and Ezra was the one who helped execute the change. Although he was often a boon for the businesses, his strict no-nonsense professionalism could be grating.
Generally too busy to ever even be present, Ezra was often quiet and reserved around the Vanburens when it came to large family gatherings. Many thought he bore some kind of grudge towards his half-siblings, but he has proven that impression wrong many times throughout the years. Almost every Vanburen can recall at least one time that Ezra has gone out of his way to help them. Be it as simple as offering a shoulder to cry on to privately posting bail so that their father doesn’t have to hear about them drinking and driving, Ezra has proven himself time and time again to the guardian angel for the Vanburen children. Yet despite his benevolence, nearly none of them can say for certain if he truly cares about them or if he is just begrudgingly following some kind of brotherly obligation.
THOUGHTS ABOUT FATHER ⫻ Ezra will give him this: James was a decent businessman and a kindhearted, charitable individual. Unfortunately, those things do not make him a good person nor a good father. If anything, they only serve to highlight how their dad was kind of a huge piece of shit. In the last couple of years it was obvious to anyone that there was bad blood growing between Ezra and James, but neither of them ever spoke about what it was over. However, despite their growing animosity, Ezra is seemingly incapable of openly saying a bad thing about his father. There’s still a deeply seated respect, admiration, jealousy, and fear rooted in Ezra for the man. He doubts he’d ever manage to shake it, no matter how hard he tries to remove the man’s influence from his life.
FLAWS ⫻ Ezra is jackknifing off of the highest diving board straight down into the empty pool of a massive burnout. Between work, family, a goddamn curse, and his own perfectionist idealism, he is spread to his absolute limits. He sees himself as too much of a protector of the other Vanburen children to share his burden with them, but unfortunately it has gotten to the point where his stress and exhaustion has worn him down to a near breaking point. He forgets things regularly, even seeming to blank out on people he’s known for years, and easily gets frustrated. While he doesn’t get visibly angry or openly snap at others, the silent treatments he implores when he has reached his limits with someone or something have become nearly legendary. It’s amusing when it’s used against the paparazzi, but downright terrifying when turned on the family.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I’m not just going to be the epilogue to his biography."
The rivalry between the Harrisburgs and the Vanburens was already burning between the two, but Ezra was the can of gasoline that turned the flame into a raging bonfire. Ezra was the product of a secret affair between James and Slyvia, the aunt of Richard Harrisburg and sister to his father. The two, against the wishes of the Harrisburgs, got hitched not so long after Slyvia started to show, and for a spell the couple seemed happy. At least, they were until James’ business ventures began bleeding her family dry and his eyes started to wander towards other women. By the time the divorce came Slyvia could barely even look at her son, only ever referring to him as “the mistake” while looking straight through him. She went back to the Harrisburgs; James was stuck with the mistake.
James ended up sending his son to a prestigious boarding school, both to prep his son for one day taking over the family business and to ensure that he wasn’t left alone at home for months at a time to be raised by the staff. Ezra may have hated school, but he was a bright kid and an even better student. However, it didn’t take too long for the kid to realize that he was practically being cultivated by James. That occurred when Ezra told his dad he was going to join the basketball team. Sports were trivial, said his old man, you’re joining the debate team. So he did. It became the song and dance for the rest of Ezra’s life. When deciding on a major for college Ezra expressed an interest in studying art. While art was seen as a nice hobby, it wasn’t a respectable profession according to James—his boy would go for business. So he did.
Ezra attended Wharton, where he studied and drank and dated and did the usual college shit while on the path towards getting his MBA. When Ezra graduated, he planned to move to New York with his girlfriend Autumn against the wishes of James, who wanted him back in Araminta to work for him. The goal was to establish a base, make some money, and open up an art gallery on the side. However, for the six months he lived there Ezra was unable to find a job, despite his connections, his legacy, and his degree. Eventually, he was forced to take his father’s offer to come work for him as his business manager, overseeing the various mom and pop stores he owned around Araminta.
Autumn joined him in Araminta and the two were married in a small ceremony that Ezra’s mother did not attend. However, Ezra soon found himself practically married to working for James, trying to work miracles on the charity cases he took in to turn them around into actual functioning businesses. There were a few failures here and there, but for a vast majority of them the acquisition turned into a brilliant success. While Ezra didn’t necessarily enjoy his work, he was good at it and there was something rewarding to helping the little guys out...even if the little guys ended up kicking them some cutback after. Of the “independent” boutiques operating downtown, nearly a third of them have had Ezra meddle in their business affairs at some point.
However, bad blood began to form between father and son. Normally, his time spent in Araminta was so short Ezra barely had a chance to even speak to his siblings, let alone actually get to know them. By being back in Araminta for good, Ezra was able to see how James pandered and bent over backwards for his other children; meanwhile, he’d hammered his oldest into a James-shaped mold. It planted a bad seed in the depths of Ezra’s mind that blossomed into the idea that, like his mother, his father also viewed him as a mistake, one that he was retroactively trying to fix by turning him into little more than a carbon copy. The worst part was that he succeeded—which only occurred when Autumn cited him turning into a James Jr. for being one of the reasons why she was leaving.
They were divorced before Thanksgiving. When James passed away on Christmas Day, Ezra almost looked relieved—or he did until he was assigned the executor of James’ will and left in control of all of James' businesses. In horror, Ezra realized that by dying and leaving him in charge James had trapped him: Ezra would always be working for his father, indefinitely, until he himself croaked. He would become the new magnanimous man, but it would be James, not Ezra, that people saw when they asked for a bail out. Ezra was just the hand that fed them, puppeted by James’ ghost from the afterlife.
Screw that.
To escape Ezra began setting to work to dismantle his father’s empire, but he had to find the proper balance to not destroy the businesses or the lives of others in the process. It has been slow going, but he has started to turn full independence back to some of the stores and pass responsibility down on to people he can trust. Ezra imagined that in a handful of years he’d be able to leave Araminta in the hands of someone else and to start living his life for once. Maybe he’d even try and get Autumn back.
Turning into stone kind of threw a wrench in that plan. Ezra was hit by a wave of despair. He went to his father’s office to search for any sort of clues as to what was happening to his family. When he searched through his father’s desk he found an old childhood puzzle of his, one of those annoying metal ones where they’re locked together and you have to somehow untangle them. In a flash of youthful impatience and ingenuity he’d gone to the shed, grabbed some bolt cutters, and cut the puzzle in two instead of banging his head against the solution. Seeing it now made him laugh, in part because he was surprised James would save such a thing but also because of his own reaction to the curse. It was stupid to waste time moping. Every problem had a solution. They just weren’t always obvious.
As he touched the broken puzzle, he flashed to a memory that wasn’t his own. He was still in his father’s office but it looked different, as if a fog had encroached through the window and filled up the edges of his periphery. He saw hands reassembling an antique rifle, aligning the sights and sliding back in the bolt. He watched as they affixed a bayonet to the end and slowly leveled the rifle up against their shoulder. It felt good; almost perfect. There was just one more touch. A glow of orange radiated around the rifle and then faded. The bayonet slashed through the air, there was a cackle of energy, and the world tore open in front of it. Ezra felt a wave of satisfaction hit him. There! Now it was a Masterpiece.
The vision faded, but the orange glow lingered around the broken puzzle. Ezra still didn’t know why his family was cursed, but he had a feeling he was already on the path to curing it. All he needed to do was put on a brave face and endure his responsibilities a little bit longer.
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Nothing is perfect unless by design."
TYPE ⫻ Adept
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Orange Lux. Ezra’s channeler is a broken wire puzzle that he’d cut apart with bolt cutters in frustration when he was a child. It has been looped through a leather strap to become some kind of wristband.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Ezra attributes characteristics to items and people, making them wondrous by thinking outside of the box. His spells require physical touch to cast and can continue indefinitely as long as he maintains a small amount of concentration that can be canceled by emotional turmoil, physical pain, or loss of consciousness.
Masterpiece ⫻ Ezra infuses an object and turns it into a perfect version of itself, better than it ever could possibly be. For example, a pencil would never go dull and the eraser would completely remove any errant graphite. Likewise, a lock would become unpickable or a door would become unbreakable while affected by the spell. A Masterpiece spell affects the whole, not just a part. A Masterpiece car would make the entire car perfect: the tires would never go flat, the engine would never rust, and the windshield would never crack. Once an item has become a Masterpiece it no longer has to operate in the realm of logic, like a Masterpiece jug of milk would never empty or spoil while a Masterpiece computer would still operate without any electricity or wi-fi.
Masterpiece is largely ineffective on a person. They only appear perfect on a surface-level, like an airbrushed version of themselves designed to sell ads. Masterpiece items vary in effectiveness against Apparitions, but are generally more useful than normal items.
Currently, he can keep one Masterpiece item and one Masterpiece person spell going at a time. The cast time requires channeling Lux from one to five minutes, depending on the complexity and size of the target, and requires a decent amount of concentration.
Configure ⫻ Ezra can dramatically increase or decrease the size of an item while allowing it to continue to perform its function, including Masterpiece items. Configure does not change the weight of an item. Like Masterpiece, a Configure spell affects the whole. Therefore, if he has a box full of clothes, the clothes will shrink or expand with the box. However, the moment that a sweater is pulled from the box it will return to its original size because it is no longer contained in the field of the Configure spell.
While people can have Configured items used against them, they themselves cannot be Configured. Likewise, their bodies act as a natural barrier against things when they are being Configured. Therefore, Ezra could Configure a necklace to shrink and become uncomfortably tight, but he cannot push it to the point of being smaller than that person’s neck until they take it off. Configured items typically amplify the usefulness of items against Apparitions, and while they are Configured they are extremely difficult to destroy outside of Extra-Normal means.
Currently, he can keep one Configure spell going at a time. The scale of an item can range from 1/5th to 5x. The cast time is instant, but items take a few seconds to change in size.
Prodigy ⫻ Ezra makes a person an instant expert on a subject relating to any Masterpiece item they are currently using. A person with a Masterpiece scalpel will become a top level surgeon, while that behind the wheels of a Masterpiece car would make any Hollywood stunt driver jealous. The moment their connection to the Masterpiece item is severed they return to their base skill level with no residual hold over in talent, regardless of how long they were using the Masterpiece item. So, while the person might know they are performing brain surgery, they won’t know what lobe to poke at until they pick the scalpel back up.
Prodigy is curbed by someone’s own physical limitations. A person decked out in Masterpiece boxing gloves might know how to fight like Ali, but if they’re weak they’ll hit and go down like Glass Joe. Prodigy can only be cast on a person. He can only have one Prodigy spell up at a time. The cast time is instant.
AURA SENSING ⫻ Ezra can detect the location of an item or person he has enchanted within 100 meters.
LIMITS ⫻ Naturally, Emotional-Fields protect the Extra-Normal from some of the nastier effects of his spells like being shrunk, strangled, and so forth. Ezra can only have one type of spell cast at one time, and if he has cast Configure and he wants to cast Masterpiece; then he'll have to drop Configure. His imbuing spells have a range limit and if he goes further than twelve meters from an object or person that he has imbued with his magic then it'll revert back to normal.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ It seems that improving objects have a cost, that Erza has to give something. To make something a masterpiece, he weakens himself in the process. He finds that he has shortness of breath, that he's a lot more susceptible to pain, not as strong as usual, and so on. He finds out this debuff is active as long as he has the spell going. The Configure spell changes Erza's weight, as making an object larger makes him heavier, and making an object smaller makes him lighter - easier to toss around and stuff.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I'm stuck with this family. Might as well take care of them."
Ezra hides the fact that he smokes cigarettes despite being a full grown adult.
“The world has never seemed darker. Be the shining light that’ll bring about a brighter tomorrow."
_______________________________________________ Tansy Monroe Vanburen
She/Her | 35 | American |5’9” | 150lbs _______________________________________________ Gilded _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "I’m just playing my part. Anyone in my position would do the same." ___________________________________
[Hostess Mostest] ⫻ Tansy has spent the better part of her adult life rubbing elbows with the social elite in support of her father’s philanthropy efforts. She’s graduated beyond being a basic socialite into being a full-blown party planner who has organized several charity and fundraising events, set up art exhibitions and debutante balls, and hosted extravagant dinner parties. If there’s a ritzy social event happening in Pennsylvania or New York odds are that Tansy’s involved in some shape. [Rumor Mill] ⫻ Gossip gravitates towards Tansy like spiteful little meteorites and she’s mastered the ability of flinging the rumors back into outer space for them to be disappeared into a blackhole. Somebody’s got to keep daddy’s reputation untarnished, especially as the grace period of speaking ill of the dead expires. Alternatively, she’s more than capable of adding the necessary oomph to a rumor to really get it going, turning a minor freckle on one’s surface into a socially catastrophic extinction level impact. [Tennis Ace] ⫻ She’s been playing the sport since grade school. While by no means near a professional, Tansy stuck with the game enough that James eventually added a court to the mansion’s grounds. He said that it was out of fear she’d start trying to beat the house’s walls in a match after she’d worked her way through the staff and her siblings. [Horse Girl] ⫻ Of course she wanted a pony when she was a little girl. She just happened to be one of those little girls whose daddy was rich enough to buy her one. She typically goes riding several times a week.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I’m expected to look my best and I always outdo the expectations."
Tansy presents herself in the old-fashioned mold of a “proper” lady, all primed and poised while veiled in the drapes of modesty and sensibility. She tends to overeunciate her words and enthusiastically moves her hands as if she were conducting her own sentences as she speaks, almost as if she were a kindergarten teacher talking to her young students. Thriving on the spotlight, Tansy carries herself in such a way that not only does she make people think she is important but she also makes them question their own value.
Her blonde hair falls below her shoulders and the ends are constructed into loose curls. Her darker eyebrows are meticulously plucked to perfection, her lashes are long, and her eyes are big, bright, and blue. Laugh lines and a beauty mark are the only source of blemish not hidden by creams or concealers on her pale skin. A polite smile is seemingly fixed upon her face, serving as a social shield she can deflect her sharp tongue off of so she swallows any spiteful words instead of performing a faux pas. Her nails are manicured and sharply filed.
She is tall and doesn’t shy from high heels, allowing her the pleasure of another way to look down upon others. She has a shapely figure and stays fit through her various outdoor hobbies, capable of displaying a level of athleticism unexpected of a woman who basically throws parties for a living. Her wardrobe is lavish in price and quality yet modest and conservative style, trending towards a vintage look that she’d define as timeless. Tansy is almost never seen in the same thing twice and insists that she donates most of her old outfits, yet several rooms in the manor are dedicated towards storing her clothes.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I was raised with a strong moral compass, so I'd appreciate it if you just let me give directions."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Tansy says she desires to make the world a better place, although that’s just the shallow textbook response she’s been regurgitating since the Miss Araminta pageant she won over fifteen years ago. It’s become a lot clearer lately: Tansy just wants to be adored.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ The best life is the one she has absolute control over. Tansy believes that people can be divided between being a sheep or being a wolf. However, Tansy knows that she is different; she is no animal. She sees herself as a shepherd, someone who can protect the flock of sheep by controlling where they graze and flay the pelts off of the wolves hiding amongst them.
SEXUALITY ⫻ She’s straight. Tansy has taken after her father when it comes to long-term relationships. If she brings a man home for Thanksgiving by now the family knows there will be another by Christmas. Until recently she hasn’t technically been single since the eighth grade, but since the funeral she hasn’t been dating.
FEARS ⫻ She has a massive fear of rejection. Tansy is openly afraid that her reputation and the Vanburen name will be tarnished by her family. The amount of effort she puts in to appear to be a perfect, polished princess can be so quickly dismantled by one of her indignant siblings making an ass of themselves. Conversely, she wants those siblings to adore her as much as those rich elites minglings at her wine mixers. She endlessly worries that she alienates herself from her family, yet continues to project this image where she sees herself as their superior.
Tansy is also so terrified of driving that she never learned and struggles with anxiety attacks even when just being a passenger. She limits her travel by car as much as possible, lest she run the upholster by death gripping the leather. These fears do not arise in other forms of transportation.
REPUTATION ⫻ She’s Araminta’s favorite daughter. Despite a few rumors of promiscuity flying around, Tansy has a squeaky clean reputation in town and has been lauded for her efforts in assisting the town in tackling its troubles through charity work and fundraising events she’d organized with her father. While a few of the “rougher” individuals around town might consider her a bit hoity-toity and question her motivations, it’s difficult to deny the good work she has done for Araminta. Even those naysayers have seemed to be coming around ever since James’s death.
Tansy's reputation within her own family is dubious. She attempted to establish herself as the matriarch of the household, treating her siblings with a smothering presence of saccharine sweetness that would rapidly swap to veiled insults and passive-aggressiveness when they questioned her authority. It didn’t help that she was notably brusque with the staff, treated most of their mothers with thinly veiled hostility, or attempted to monopolize their father’s limited freetime in hopes of continuing to seal in her spot as “the favorite”. Although she regularly tries to keep in touch with everyone as they’ve left the nest, it was difficult for many of the Vanburen children to see Tansy as anything but a holier-than-thou fake.
THOUGHTS ABOUT FATHER ⫻ Tansy absolutely adored James because Daddy, as she worrisomely refers to her adopted father as to this day, gave her everything she ever wanted. While the other children tried to flee from out underneath his shadow, she fully embraced living in the shade. He was a great man and she plans to honor his greatness by opening a rehabilitation clinic in his name. She won’t stand to listen to any hearsay about his relationship struggles or his own substance abuse. Daddy was a hero and he deserves to be recognized as one.
FLAWS ⫻ Tansy is a control freak who is quick to send others on a guilt trip when they do not do things the way she wants them to be done. Although she isn’t a stupid person, she is one of those frustrating individuals who believes she is smarter than she actually is and struggles to accept others as being able to come up with a better idea. She turns disagreements personal, acting as if attacks on ideas are attacks on her as a person. As well, she isn’t above threatening to spread malicious gossip to get someone to acquiesce to her will.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "It's silly but I just cannot imagine what my life would've been life if he hadn't chosen me. Less champagne, I suppose."
James Vanburen adopted Tansy when she was barely a toddler. She cannot recall anything from her life before, but when growing up she suffered from recurring nightmares of shrieking voices, a blinding light, the sound of metal grinding on metal, and an intense cold. She liked to imagine that James saved her from a terrible life. Nightmares aside, her childhood was wonderful, an idyllic life spent waited upon by other people and granted whatever she wanted. Compared to the other children, Tansy was spoiled by James. It became clearer to her when she realized he’d picked her from dozens of other children up for adoption. James had other kids, but he’d chosen her. She was special, and because she was special she knew she couldn’t let him down.
By the time she was a teenager, Tansy had taken it upon herself to become the, as some of the staff teasingly called her, lady of the estate, organizing family dinners and prepping for holiday parties. She often found herself at odds with James's current wife, but always tried to harness the affection of his other children to various levels of success and failure. A fear of driving meant she spent a lot of her later teen years on the estate horseback riding or playing tennis with her latest boyfriend, occasionally whiteknuckling a ride into town for a change of scenery or riding her bike there when she didn’t want to fight off a panic attack.
As an adult, Tansy stayed in Araminta but did not attend the local college. Rather she doubled-down on her dedication to assisting James and began organizing and hosting fundraising events to help him tackle the city’s drug epidemic. She found she had a knack for calling the shots and began to oversee more of James's charitable endeavors, allowing her father to galavant off on wherever his business took him. Her talent for event planning became noticed by the limited pool of Araminta social elite and she began taking hosting requests for other exquisite events.
Eventually, Tansy found herself soaring amongst the socialites, hosting galas in Araminta and nearby major cities. She inevitably began to split time between Araminta and New York City, ideally commuting by train and subway whenever possible, and spent her adulthood drinking out of champagne flutes, hosting galas, and guilting the rich into returning a paltry amount of the money they’d exploited from the poor to boost their social standings. Life was perfect. Tansy could not be happier. She enjoyed planning events and saw a successful evening as proof that what she did was important.
Call it self-centered but there was nothing she enjoyed more than planning the Vanburen Family Christma every year. It was James’s favorite day of the year after all, and she spent weeks of hard work making sure everything was just right. Weeks that only took his ungrateful bastards minutes to ruin with their bickering the moment their precious little egos got scratched. The image of her father’s sad, tired face as he drained his Manhattan, poured himself a whiskey neat, and closed his library’s door in her face is etched in her mind. The next day she was planning his funeral. The extra burden kept her from lambasting his children. It’d be perfect. A perfect funeral to honor a perfect father.
Only she couldn’t go. How could she possibly stomach seeing James in a box surrounded by a carnival of bastards and social parasites? How could she bear to witness one of them make a mockery out of something she helped create again? Tansy feigned being ill and sequestered herself in the manor. While alone in the house she heard the sound of a glass shattering come from James’s room. Knowing that all the staff had been given the day off she felt a cold dread take hold of her as she approached his closed door, an otherworldly light pulsing from under the door. She froze in fear as her hand touched the handle and then she heard a choir of voices in her head say, “Do not be afraid.” She opened the door, screamed as she witnessed the horrifying form of what lies beyond, and was swallowed by its golden light.
Tansy couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. The creature was gone but she could feel it in her head. The choir chimed up again, telling her to be calm and so she did. It introduced itself as Dominion and told Tansy to consider it as an old so-called business partner of James. It just wanted to see the man one last time and pay its respects, but given the circumstances of its appearance needed a host. What better host was there than Tansy? She found that she couldn’t possibly disagree with Dominion. She joined her family at the graveyard, a bore witness as her father was buried in the ground. She felt her head swirl and then there was no more input from Dominion.
The following day she’d rationalize it as a delusion caused by intense grief. She returned to New York shortly thereafter with the goal of raising funds for a new rehabilitation clinic in Araminta named after her father to honor his memory. However, she found that her typical donors were not so interested in pursuing a pet project that offered little prestige. At least that was the case before Dominion began speaking to her again. It offered its power to Tansy to help win over her investors, insisting that it would be its own way of honoring its old business partner. Dominion explained to her what it could do. At first Tansy was a bit apprehensive, moral quandaries and all, but if it was for the greater good then she couldn’t say no. She accepted Dominion’s deal and fully became adjoined with the Apparition. She found little difficulty securing funding since then.
Tansy moved back to Araminta to drum up local support for the rehab clinic and to settle on a location to build it. She purchased the nicest apartment she could find downtown so she could avoid commuting. Tansy made a decent headway on finding a lot in East Araminta where she could begin construction after winter. However, she didn’t plan on spending the holidays at home. No matter, it’d be nice to have everyone around again. What other choice did they have?
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Do not be afraid, my sweet submissive subject."
TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Affixed)
ABSTRACTION ⫻Dominion’s Majesty, the ability to take on an otherworldly form and subjugate someone who witnesses her.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻Dominion’s Majesty allows Tansy to unleash the Apparition hiding inside of her and manifest it. When Dominion is manifested the Apparition tries to mesmerize a being of Tansy’s choice, attempting to snap them into a hypnotic stupor. Someone without an emotional field is almost immediately enchanted, unable to take their eyes off of Tansy and allowing her to turn them into a subject that she can command with simple verbal orders. If she does not issue a new command upon the completion of an order then the subject returns to its hypnotic state and await her next demand. Tansy can seal Dominion to release her subject from its hypnosis or to cancel an order. Upon releasing a subject they regain their consciousness but are unaware of what happened or what they did as if they were sleepwalking.
Alternatively, Tansy can choose to fully possess her subject by touching them and staring into their eyes for a handful of unbroken seconds. However doing so enters her own body into a hypnotic, nearly defenseless state. While in possession of her subject she has absolute control over them and can access their memory, allowing her to pass as them in conversation, stockpile dangerous secrets, or get her ego battered by finding out how somebody really thinks of her. To one of the Blind it would be almost impossible to tell the difference between a person and Tansy possessing a person. However, someone capable of witnessing the Extra-Normal could catch the occasional flicker of gold in their eyes when they are hit by a bright light. Tansy can end a possession at will, immediately snapping back to her body and freeing her subject. As with her orders, they do not recall the possession.
Emotional Fields absolutely hamper Dominion’s Majesty, turning Tansy’s divine right to reign into a monarch’s brutal attempt to quell a peasant rebellion through pure attrition. The worst thing that typically happens to her unruly subject with an Emotional Field when she manifests Dominion is that they experience a temporary flash of blindness and rush of fear. As long as Tansy is using Dominion’s Majesty on this revolting peon, they will continue to be blinded when looking at her as if they were trying to stare into the sun. As well, they will begin to feel the horror of Tansy’s royal mandate breaking through their Emotional Field. Looking away almost immediately frees a would-be subject from Tansy’s grasp (as does forcing Tansy to divert her gaze), but if they do not or cannot they will eventually be snapped into a hypnotic state just like the Blind.
However, unlike the Blind an Extra-Normal subject of Tansy’s can attempt to resist her orders, either following it out ineffectively or even completely breaking free of her subjugation. How hard it is to resist an order depends on how unlikely her subject would’ve done it on their own free will. For example, telling someone who doesn’t like violence, “Don’t hurt anyone!” would be almost impossible to resist because they wouldn’t hurt anyone in the first place, telling them, “Don’t hurt me, hurt him!” would make it more uncertain if they would follow the order fully or not, and telling them, “Don’t hurt me, but kill that bastard!” almost certainly wouldn’t work—nor is it something that Tansy believes she would ever request.
Theoretically, Tansy could attempt to possess an Extra-Normal. Honestly, Tansy fears that doing so might allow her to be Abscised by the very being she possesses.
While the target of Dominion’s Majesty either cannot see Dominion or is blinded by its Majesty, those around Tansy can witness it—although what it is difficult to say. Upon first manifesting the Apparition, Tansy’s eyes ignite in a golden light and her voice echoes as if it was backed by a choir. Her skin begins to glow and radiate, clothes and hair flowing as if they were in a warm, heavenly breeze. Eventually, a halo of light emerges from behind her head, growing in its radius until it seems as if it were about to swallow Tansy whole. Beyond her in the circle of light, accompanied by the beating of wings and the cries of some otherworldly language harmonizing with Tansy’s commands, lies Dominion, its form an incomprehensible nightmare that wavers and shifts like a mirage as it stretches out towards its herald, looming closer and closer but never quite reaching her. Not yet, at least.
AURA SENSING ⫻ Dominion watches over Tansy while she is in possession of her subject. She can detect the aura of entities within 10 meters of her body, although she cannot determine their identity.
LIMITS ⫻ Tansy, unfortunately, can only use the power of Dominion's Majesty on one target at a time and to change targets; Tansy has to release her hold on the one target she's focusing on. The Extra-Normal are heavily resistant, if not outright immune, to the effect of Tansy's abstraction due to Emotional-Fields protecting them - if they know of Tansy's ability they can easily resist the effects if they are aware of them. Tansy can use the Dominion's Majesty and use its effects in a range of thirty meters, or if she chooses to use it herself, far, far closer (which is the more effective way to use it). Tansy is able to control a blind for around a few hours before they become more and more aware of the control and is able to break free. An Extra-Normal can only be affected for a few minutes.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ Due to the low-powered nature of the abstraction; there are few drawbacks or weaknesses. The Dominion's Majesty is a very fragile Apparition not designed for combat; it's easily destroyed by attacks. If it's destroyed, Tansy will fall unconscious until the Apparition regenerates. The primary counter to this ability is awareness, if even the Blind are aware of Tansy's abstraction and somebody tells them she's using it on them; they can resist and break free of its influence.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Now I know you’re probably all tired of hearing from me, but—"
Tansy has recently begun to have her childhood nightmares again.
Sabrina.Vanburen
"The longer Sabrina continues to live in her fairytale world the sooner the real one will eat her alive." _______________________________________________
The Idiot or the Idealist. Ezra sometimes struggles with distinguishing the difference between the two concepts. Due to Ezra only spending summers at home as well as their age gap, they were not really close while growing up. While the rest of the family seemed to support Sabrina during her transition, only Ezra questioned the idea by asking, “Are you sure?” There was no hate in the question, just concern—concern both about the hardships that Sabrina would face and if she really wanted to go through with the transition. However, that one question is the perfect representation of how Ezra treats Sabrina: everything she does he doubts, questioning if it has truly been thought out or not. Is he just worried about his naive, gungho sister, or does he not trust her to make the right decisions?
Shane.Vanburen
"I sometimes wonder who is more disappointed." _______________________________________________
The Failure or the Martyr. Ezra can never be certain if Shane’s downward spiral was his own fault or the result of trying to escape from the family name only to be crushed underneath it instead. As with Sabrina, they were not close in their youth due to the age gap. When Shane told the family he wanted to be a police officer Ezra laughed and told him not to get eaten alive. At the time it had been a joke. Ezra was even a little proud of his brother for breaking off from the family to do what Shane thought was the right thing. However, when Shane returned a depressed alcoholic the joke no longer seemed so innocent. It’s rare for the brothers to talk these days, with Ezra seeming to avoid Shane almost as much as Shane avoids the rest of his family. Does Ezra look away from Shane because he feels sorrow for his broken brother and is lost as to how to help him, or is he hiding the mirth in his eyes, laughing at his little joke that keeps nailing the punchline?
Oscar.Vanburen
"Araminta’s favorite son. That's meant to be praise, even if the bar is only a few inches off the floor." _______________________________________________
The Waste or the Genius. Ezra accepts that Oscar is undoubtedly the smartest member of the family, although he questions his judgment call when it comes to what Oscar invests himself in. Ezra was in Araminta more while Oscar was growing up, so he feels closer to him than Sabrina or Shane. Ezra isn’t upset like James is that Oscar is focusing on taking over his mother’s business because he fears he’s only doing it for her; he’s upset about it because he feels like Oscar is limiting himself and wasting his potential. Ezra has frequently told Oscar that he wished he had that brain of his, although it is impossible to tell if he means it solely as a compliment or if he is jealous, hinting that he would use the kid’s mind on less trivial matters.
However, Oscar might’ve accidentally killed their father, so that awards him every single brownie point that there has ever been.
Trisha.Vanburen
"Funny. All that time in front of the mirror and you still can’t see the main source of all your problems." _______________________________________________
The Worst or the Equal. Ezra cannot decide if Trisha is just what he would be like if he didn’t have restraint or his complete and total opposite. As he was with Oscar, Ezra was around for a decent part of her later childhood, although due to both of their aloof natures it would be hard to say that the two are close. Despite practically being strangers, Ezra has a feeling that the two of them would actually agree on many things. However, her knee jerk reaction to pin the blame on anyone except for herself irks him to the very core of his being, but is he really annoyed because he finds it wrong or because he wishes he could react like she does and lash out?
Georgie.Vanburen
"The problem with thinking logically is that it assumes the other party would do the same." _______________________________________________
The Stranger or the Icon. Ezra cannot decide if her admires Georgie for her detached, goal-oriented drive or is annoyed by having a younger sister that somehow manages to out aloof him. While he was in Araminta for most of her formative years, she was overseas doing—what, exactly? The girl is basically a total mystery. He knows more about the gardener than his sister. Ezra has achieved the herculean task of getting her in a conversation before due to their mutual interest in art, but moving towards anything else feels like he's pulling teeth. He can't quite decide if her ability to completely detach herself from other people is intentional. Is she just self-reliant or is she just a broken flower without any dirt for her roots to hold on to so that she can grow?
Blu.Moonblood
“He’s really not a bad performer. Funny, you think I would’ve heard of him more.” _______________________________________________
The Discordant or the Harmonious. The existence of Blu creates hundreds of questions and proves only one thing: James kept plenty of secrets. Blu isn’t the first time James has patronned starving artists, but he was the first one that James didn’t tiresomely showoff every opportunity he had to further aggrandize his own magnanimity. Ezra took it upon himself to find Blu when his father didn’t drag the musician out to play his version of “All I Want for Christmas Is You”, discovering Blu at a tiny music cafe. Ezra caught Blu after the show, introduced himself as James’s eldest son, asked a few probing questions about how the young man met his father, and insisted that he reach out if he ever needed anything. Yet when their meeting ended it would be difficult to tell if Ezra was truly offering Blu his support. Ezra himself is unsure of the man—is his inconsistency in comparison to how James treated the rest of his pet projects and favorite children a breath of fresh air, or is it proof of something more, something rotten?
Arabelle.Matthews
"She's used to dealing with children, thankfully, although I imagine the ones she teaches are better behaved." _______________________________________________
The Piteous or the Resourceful. Ezra has always treated the help with respect and dignity, but there is still an underlying sense of superiority that always just seems to be lying right beneath the surface—as if he believes that by giving them a job he is somehow commiting some great act of charity. While Ezra knew Arabelle existed, he dealt more with her mother, whom he found agreeable, than the girl herself while they were growing up. Naturally, they became more familiar with one another once Ezra began running the estate and Arabelle came back to work on the weekends. It would be a stretch to say that he is friendly to the woman, but he has a professional, if somewhat cold, respect for the woman who is a hard, dedicated worker and has pushed herself through a number of bad years. Yet when he thinks Arabelle is not looking there is a hint of sadness, and perhaps even guilt, in his eyes, as if he knows something bad is coming yet has done nothing to prevent it.
Rumors used to fly around amongst the staff that Arabelle's father was James. Ezra used to believe them when he was younger, but now even he thinks that his father couldn't be that much of an asshole to hire his own kid back on to scrub toilets.
Tansy.Vanburen
“Like James, she manages to make everything be about her.” _______________________________________________
The Parasite or the Caretaker. Ezra never quite believed that Tansy’s devotion to their father or her charitable efforts were without their ulterior motives. Ezra remembered when James brought her home, as it was shortly before the decision was made to ship him off to boarding school. The two were close in age and growing up defaulted to being playmates during summer vacation, but they drifted apart from each other hard once they hit their teens. Perhaps it was just hard for Ezra to swallow the fact that Tansy got everything she wanted while Ezra had to be everything James wanted. Perhaps it was because Tansy was too focused on babying their siblings to give him her attention. It didn’t help that she was inseparable from James whenever he was home. By the time Ezra began to take over his father’s business, he knew there was no such thing as a private meeting with the man—Tansy was always near, whispering God knows what in James’s ear once Ezra left the room. Was he just jealous of how close Tansy was with the man who practically abandoned him, or was he upset at himself for letting James groom a young woman to act as a surrogate mother for the children he’d basically abandoned?
Sabrina.Vanburen
"You’re just too sweet, dear Sabrina. Fear not. As long as I’m around, no one else will take advantage of you." _______________________________________________
Her Poppet. Tansy is massively supportive of Sabrina, both in her career and in her personal life. Although being a whole country apart made it difficult to regularly see each other, Tansy kept in touch via social media. As well, she made an effort to go out to LA at least once a year, and would invite Sabrina to NYC every now and again to come attend some fancy event and network. Even when they weren’t together, Tansy would often show up for galas in outfits inspired by the work her sister was doing out West, shamelessly promoting Sabrina’s socials to boost her presence. Likewise, after Sabrina was targeted online Tansy became an active LGBT advocate. However, Tansy’s support has not always been there. When the two grew up together Tansy was just another part in the chorus of voices insisting that Sabrina harmonize with the status quo and “act like a boy should”. Tansy insists that it was just a symptom of the time, yet it threads some doubt into their relationship. Maybe Tansy doesn’t support Sabrina at all. Maybe Sabrina’s the one doing the actual supporting, boosting Tansy’s social standing amongst progressive elites while all Tansy does is virtue signal and control her sister like a marionette.
Shane.Vanburen
"I’ll always watch over you. No matter how far you fall I will not look away. Not until you hit the very bottom." _______________________________________________
Her Judas. With his mother not being around to steal away her spotlight, Tansy found herself hovering around Shane more than the other Vanburen children who weren’t so starved for affection. Tansy expresses that she adores all of her siblings, but it was clear to any that grew up in the mansion that Shane was one of her favorites. She never reprimanded him for getting in any fights, often thanking him for looking out for their siblings when she wasn’t there before fetching him an ice pack for a shiner. Likewise, she supported his decision to become a police officer, as cops were still fashionable at the time, and was excited to have her favorite brother be in the same city as her. Although he was busy keeping people safe and she was living between two cities, the two would hangout whenever their schedules aligned and grab a drink at a cop bar or get a nice dinner at one of Tansy’s favorite restaurants. Then he started making excuses for why he couldn’t meet up. Eventually he stopped even replying to her texts and calls. Seeing him at Christmas was like a knife through the heart. He’d change. He was a husk wearing her brother’s skin who barely even acknowledged her existence. After all she had done for him? She caught him before he left the Christmas Party, crushing him beneath a wave of anger and guilt as she unloaded on him for ignoring her. They have hardly spoken since. She wishes he’d just snap out of it and tell her what happened, but then she finds herself thinking that she only wants to know so she can tell him that he deserved it.
Oscar.Vanburen
"You’re a good son but your mother’s limiting you. I think you should do what you want." _______________________________________________
Her Project. While Tansy tried to be a relevant part in the life of all of her siblings, Oscar spending most of his time at his mom’s house made it difficult for them to forge a strong bond. Oscar’s wishy washiness frustrates a person with control issues as strong as Tansy’s. Although she attempts to support his latest obsession, typically Tansy finds herself wishing Oscar had stuck with a previous passion of his. She usually finds herself at a loss when in a conversation with him to the point that she questions her own intellect, and with how bad he is at keeping in contact with her she worries that he thinks little of her. Perhaps someone else would take this and write the person off, but Tansy embarrassingly finds herself desperate for Oscar’s approval. He’s one of the few people who can make her change her opinion, and her persistent nature helps balance out his unreliability. However, Tansy has let a number of snide comments about Eloise Price slip by in front of Oscar. Sometimes it feels like Tansy is attempting to pull Oscar away from his only living parent so he can better serve as part of the Vanburen legacy.
Trisha.Vanburen
"Oh Trisha, you have such a fun way of showing affection. I love you too, sweetie." _______________________________________________
Her Toy. Although Tansy may be desperate for her sibling’s approval, there comes a point when it’s obvious that someone is a lost cause. Trisha is that lost cause. Attempting to be the stand-in mother for a girl with deep-seated mommy issues proved to destroy any sort of actually good relationship the two could ever have. Trisha’s harshness might’ve hurt Tansy’s feelings early on, but a person can only get hit so many times before they grow numb. Tansy no longer cares what Trisha thinks. It’s truly liberating. While with anyone else she might resort to cutting them down with wit, Tansy knows the true thing that’d drive Trisha crazy is kindness. Thus, she has never said a negative thing to Trisha’s face in years. Tansy drowns the girl in unwanted affection and heavy handed compliments and dotes on her whenever she is around, knowing that it’d drive Trisha absolutely crazy. She regularly sends Trisha vapid texts wishing her a nice day, invites her out on shopping trips or luncheons when she’s in town, and has even done something as heinous as showing up at Trisha’s college to visit. If Trisha didn’t know better she might think that Tansy was just dumb, yet the occasional backhanded compliment makes it clear that Tansy is just trying to get under the girl’s skin.
Georgie.Vanburen
"Yes, I understand the technique is impressive Georgie, but how does it make you feel? It just doesn’t do anything for me. " _______________________________________________
Her Headache. When Georgie was younger Tansy took care of her almost as much as the nanny. However, with Georgie going to school overseas at such a young age Tansy has always felt like little more than a stranger to her sister. While she wrote the occasional letter, they almost never had time to interact once Georgie’s baby teeth had fallen out. Unlike Oscar, who’s unpredictable but cordial, or Trisha, who’s unfriendly but predictable, Georgie is almost impossible to read. It just feels like no matter what Tansy does Georgie shifts from being a stonewall to a striking cobra, then back again. The young woman truly just makes Tansy uncertain and uncomfortable, and is the Vanburen most likely to get Tansy’s sugary facade to crack and go stale.
Arabelle.Matthews
"I don't know where these awful rumors keep coming from, Arabelle. I've told the staff to stop spreading them." _______________________________________________
Her Rival. Arabelle's mother had a massive influence on Tansy's childhood. Not knowing her actual mother, Tansy saw Ms. Matthews as a replacement of sorts and would follow her around the estate like a duckling, helping her out with the other children as she grew older. The same jealousy Arabelle would feel about the Vanburen children was felt by Tansy on the day Arabelle was born, usurping her imagined role as Ms. Matthews's daughter. While Tansy still treated Ms. Matthews with respect, Arabelle never saw an ounce of kindness from Tansy while growing up and always drew harsh criticisms when she made a mistake around the house. However, Tansy mostly pretended like Arabelle didn't exist—something she could no longer do once Ms. Matthews passed and Arabelle begun to spend time with James. Arabelle had already stolen Tansy's mother. Now she was trying to take her father? It was unforgivable. Her childish jealously resurfaced with fiendish vigor. Although Tansy now played nicer with Arabelle, acting as if they'd grown up a sisters instead of as a spoiled brat and a servant. Yet a conversation between the two cannot exist without Tansy poking at some kind of nerve and then going behind her back to spread vicious rumors. Even with James gone, she now views Arabelle as competition for the attention and affection of the other Vanburens.
Money isn't the root; it's the nutrients in the soil that let beauty grow.
The walk to the market was brief but still gave Solange plenty of time to fantasize about the axle of the wagon splintering, the barrel hiding Neh’miah tumbling out of the cart, and it cascading into the bay where it would be swept out into the sea. In her fantasy, a marooned mariner desperate for food and drink would see a barrel wash ashore on their island prison, crack open the cask, and succumb to despair as the remains of the molding barrel thief leaked out. The thought amused her enough to fight off the urge to walk up next to the barrel and rock it herself, an action she was sure would be intercepted by one of Vargas’s thugs. It was even enough to keep her taunting tongue tied as she glanced over at Maréngo. She was almost impressed by his ability to stomach the irritant. Had she oversaturated it with coffee?
The sight of the market snuffed all thoughts of misery-making out of her head. Her eyes grew wide with greed as they consumed the stalls stocked with supplies and trinkets. Normally when she was in a market she was limited to shopping with her eyes and whatever discount she could swipe with her fingers. The parcel of gold grew heavy in her hand, the weight too much to bear. It needed to be spent. She ripped it open and an audible gasp was followed by a shuffling of hands as she stashed the money in a hidden pocket, well aware of the stickiness of the fingers of those around her. After Fontaine’s cut and the various expenses to maintain her botanical practices, it had taken Solange months of work to save up a tenth of what Vargas had just given. The stale performances weren’t even the worst of it—the amount of time spent in grueling, mind numbing conversations, so bad that she barely held back all of her urges to slash out their tongue or cut off her ears, compared to the price she was paid was pathetic.
Crunching how much time she’d have to spend listening to a sailor squawk about his shipmates to make the amount of money in that envelope made Solange’s stomach turn, her cheeks burn, and her fist tighten. Her face darkened as she glanced around the market, trying to spot her companions. When Vargas had talked about the money for the ship and the gear it seemed so abstract that she hadn’t even registered it. Now that she had a fraction of the number he’d mentioned for his price, she was bewildered. Were these thieves and killers always being paid so well while women in her profession got the scraps and the sneers? She shook and spied a jeweler across the way, the morning sun glinting off of the silver and gold. The knock-offs she wore didn’t even glimmer. Her breath caught in her throat. She deserved a treat, didn’t she? She started towards the stand.
Then she turned sharply. She would treat herself to fancy jewelry upon her return. Until then, she had to make sure she stayed alive, and the best way to do that was to prove to the others that she was of value. Ideally they would all come to their senses and see that she was worth dying for, but until then she’d settle for them at least wanting to keep her alive. She knew well enough that the best way to get someone to care about you was to seem to care about them.
Solange found herself at Ziva’s Apothecary Supplies. She knew Ziva well enough, having tracked down her stall whenever it was convenient to find remedies for Fontaine’s girls. Generally the fellow running the stall did most of the sales while Ziva prepped the packages, yet he always shied away when Solange started speaking of the girl’s unsanitary symptoms. He seemed to recognize her, because Solange didn’t even have to say a word to catch a scowl from him as he tapped Ziva on the shoulder and turned away. Solange saw Ziva as a sort of herbalism contemporary. Ziva, well…
“You do not learn? I would ask why you are here, but a blindman could see the amount of paint around your mouth. So, whose dirty little pecker did you put your pretty lips too close to this time?” asked Ziva, squinting at Solange with one eye.
“Darling, you know I do not kiss and tell. Although in regards to the blind, I am less concerned with the blemishes as I am with the fragrance of my flower. You see, this morning I thought someone had hidden murdered animal in my bed because…”
“Should really see to that delivery,” said the man as he hurried away from the stall empty handed. Solange and Ziva watched as he disappeared into the market.
“Has there ever been a better way to keep a man from infidelity?” asked Ziva, smirking. Ever since Ziva promised to share the occasional secret with her, Solange had accepted the role as the world’s most diseased harlot. All of it was to convince Ziva’s man that any working girl was a sickly, infested cesspit that was as likely to cause it to rot off as it was to get off. Solange did not know why Ziva didn’t trust the fellow. He didn’t seem like the whoring type, but watching him winge was enough to sell her on the premise.
“Castration, but that’s only fun once,” said Solange with a dark chuckle.
“So, are you here for one of the girls today?” asked Ziva.
“Myself, actually,” said Solange. She caught Ziva’s glance and stepped back with a mock hostility. “Please, love, don’t give me that look like I’m an idiot, you know I can spot a social disease even before the belt is unbuckled.”
“I know you say that. So, what are you looking for then?”
Solange explained the situation of her trip without giving Ziva any ruinous details, and the woman presented several items to prepare for the most unfortunate of circumstances. A bit of back and forth later and Ziva was bundling up a package of inexpensive but proven medical supplies. She was about to tie it up with a ribbon when she looked up at Solange and said, “You do have something to ward off the sailors, correct?”
“If raising my prices aren’t enough, I have also begun to win the affection of a very big and very violent Tork.”
“I am not speaking of your virtue. I am speaking about the drowned. Ghosts of dead sailors. Sunken ships rising out of the depths, sailed by skeletons and spirits, seeking souls to consume before the night’s end. To go sailing without the proper equipment is suicide.”
“R-ridiculous,” said Solange, feeling a chill run down her spine. “If such things exist why have I never heard about it?”
“Sailors know not to speak of it; it is bad luck. Serves as a signal to the dead. Helps them find their ships. Even knowing it is dangerous.”
“Then why tell me?” barked Solange, her fingers rubbing at her throat as she felt it start to close. Did Maréngo know of such things? Why hadn’t Vargas been informed?
Ziva shrugged. “I thought you knew. But now you can prepare. Listen, I’ll tell you how…”
Solange leaned in, listening intently as Ziva explained the necessary rituals to perform and items to prepare to fend off the spirits of the sea. By the time her explanation was done, Solange’s bundle had doubled in size as it was packed with water blessed by holy disciples of Leathe and pounds of purified salt to ward and protect. The thank yous pouring from Solange’s mouth were the most earnest words she had spoken in months, and the way her eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of her head as Ziva said that even these precautions might not be enough told the apothecary that she could fleece Solange for anything right about now. Ziva pulled a talisman out of her pocket, a black rope fastened around a piece of jade to make a bracelet. She held it out to Solange.
“Wear this on your wrist. If you ever find yourself confronted by a spirit of the dead, extend your hand forward. The jade will do the rest. Here.” Solange reached forward as Ziva snapped the bracelet back. “This is a one of a kind spirit stone that protects the living from the dead. It’s incredible rare, worth over fifty gold, b—”
“Here!” Solange didn’t even wait to hear the price drop Ziva was going to give her. Already, Vargas’s coin had swapped places with the coin and the bracelet was hanging from her left wrist.
“You are a smart girl,” said Ziva, wide-eyed. She didn’t even bother to protest. The gem wasn’t even true jade, but serpentine stone. The rope tied around it was worth more. Ziva quickly wrapped up the rest of the transaction before Solange could give it a second thought, not that she would. Solange stared at the stone with awe as she shifted the bundle under her arm and found her next stop, purchasing a black leather cloak to keep her dry if she was even needed above deck during a storm.
Her final stop took her out of the black market and back to the legitimate storefront to stock up on general goods. She had also intended to seek out a book about the island of Gnok, either of some historical value or information on local flora. Solange instead found her nose in a book of maritime folklore and sea creatures called Faithless Fathoms: Living Below Leathe’s Light. She paid for the book, returned to the cart, and sat with her back to Neh’miah’s barrel and the book opened on her lap to a chapter about the Sumek. She reached back and tapped the barrel.
“You still breathing, love? Tap once if you’re alive, twice if you’re suffocating, and three times if—” Her words pitched up into a question and grew louder as she saw Maréngo and sat up with a curious face.“—you bought a monkey?”
For fruit to grow, a flowers pollen must be spread.
Solange maintained a polite smile as the Sheriff refused her offer, even though she had already begun to pour the poisoned coffee. It was a shame to have wasted such a special blend, but at least the man was leaving. She thought about making a smart comment about offering the man something more appetizing and a larger plate just to see if she could get him to sit down and drink her brew, but the last man she’d done that to had hit her. Solange ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek where she had bit it and tasted the iron. Sometimes, it was better to let the game end early before a playmate got fussy.
It was difficult not to take a reflexive step back as the Sheriff pulled into her, but working for Fontaine had made her used to overly enthusiastic gentlemen failing to understand boundaries. Yet something told her that the Sheriff would delight in finding her afraid of him. Only two kinds of men would willingly throw away their dignity to represent something as broken as the law in this town: absolute imbeciles and complete monsters. The Sheriff didn’t seem like a total idiot. So Solange fought the urge to stick a blade into the bit of scruff he’d missed near his jugular as the Sheriff sniffed at her like she was a freshly baked blackberry pie. Instead, she took that step back, sharply drew in her breath as he leaned down to her, and put her hand to her chest as if she were in shock while using it to act like a bustier. To top it all off, she turned her head sharply and looked away, stammering out like his patheticness was any bit of a surprise, “S-S-Sheriff!"
The performance was enough to make her own skin crawl, but Solange wondered if the bait would land as he pulled away and started pretending like he was a professional again. If he would be seeing her again real soon, she hoped he’d think that she was afraid of him, that she couldn’t do anything to stop him, and that he’d feel empowered to get close enough for a shave he didn’t want nor wouldn’t see coming but certainly deserved. Still she had to respect him for not trying to make the law sound like anything more than threats. She curtsied as the Sheriff turned and made his exit, watching him navigate the tavern from the balcony, tiny splinters from the bannister pricking under her nails as they bit into the wood, relaxing only once she saw him leave.
She turned and snatched two tainted horns from where she’d left it on the table and stormed down to the common room of the Faded Lantern, the clouds around her parting as her feet touched the landing as she reset her composure. She helped herself behind the bar, one glance shutting down the protest from the morning bartender, and fished out a funnel. Solange found a stool, searched through the secret pockets of her dress for carefully wrapped package of empty vials, and began to undo the padding. She was happy to see that her confrontation with Skartsat left the vials uncracked; he would’ve found glass in his next breakfast otherwise.
Her back to a corner so that she could see the rest of the room, the front door especially, Solange set the funnel in the vial. She began to carefully pour herself a coffee to go, the other horn sitting on the edge of the counter close to her. Steam still rose from the rim, offering a tantalizing aroma of hazelnuts and cinnamon, begging to be consumed before Solange recycled it.
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Evil Ghost Note
