HylianRose

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Silas Grey

__________________________________________________________ Basic Information __________________________________________________________ • Name | Silas Grey • Nickname(s) | Psyren, Psy, Grey, Ren • Age | Unknown, appears to be in his mid-20s • Gender | Male • Birthday | Unknown • Race | Vampire • Rank/Status | Blooded Appearance __________________________________________________________ [+] • Height | 6'0 • Build | Tall and lanky • Eye Color | Silvery Green/Blue • Hair Color & Style | Naturally black, dyes it silver paired with whatever other color he's feeling that week • Skin Tone | Pale with faint freckles on his face. He typically hides them with makeup. • Notable Marks | Tattoos; Neck, wrist, torso, and back. Variety of styles, sizes, and such. Piercings; Ear (Many) and Snake Bites on his mouth. • Typical Clothing Style | He favors black as foundation, just never plain black.His jackets, usually leather biker cuts, are hand-painted, distressed, and customized by himself. Zippers, snaps, and buckles are everywhere, both functional and ornamental, clinking softly as he moves. He leans towards layered silhouettes, slim black, blood-red, deep purple, pastel pinks and grey splotches. His clothes look thrown together, but deliberate. ✦ 1. ✦ 2. ✦ 3. • Aura/First Impression | Silas is a mystery to many. Intensely charismatic, even without trying, he finds people being drawn to him, pulling people closer with little effort. On stage, he is magnetic. Off-stage, he is quiet and reserved. The lack of information about him leads to rumors and misinformation, none of which he bothers to correct. • Voice | Deep and sultry, Silas' voice is charming in an of itself. He is not much of a talker off-stage, but when he does it is relaxed and laid-back. Relationships __________________________________________________________ [+] • Openness to Friendship (1-5) | 4 • Openness to Romance (1-5) | 3 • Romantic Preferences | People who match his energy • Current Romantic Interests | - • View on Forbidden Relationships | Apathy • Biggest Turn-ons | ✦ Vulnerability ✦ Passion ✦ Confidence • Biggest Turn-offs | ✦ Control/Manipulation ✦ Cruelty ✦ Hypocrisy • Known Friends | N/A • Known Enemies | Magnus • Known Family | N/A

Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Hobbies/Interests | ✦ Music ✦ Art ✦ Fashion • Likes | ✦ The Stage ✦ Performing ✦ Sleep • Dislikes | ✦ Dishonesty ✦ Silence ✦ Vegetables • Fears | ✦ Obscurity ✦ Condemnation ✦ Losing His Hearing • Habits | ✦ Tapping fingers as if playing piano ✦ Mouthing lyrics in his head ✦ biting at his snake bites • Vices | ✦ Avoidance ✦ Self-Destruction ✦ Alcohol/Tobacco Core Motivation Music. Personality Overview Silas Grey carries himself like a man who learned to survive by never standing still. Years on the street taught him to never stay put, emotionally or otherwise. His personality is sharpened by centuries of life, but dulled by lost memories. At his core, his is intensely charismatic, the kind of presence that pulls people closer without much effort. On stage, this manifests as raw magnetism and a voice that sounds like it's confessing sins no one asked to hear. Off stage, he is quieter, more reserved, and deeply observant. It's as if the world is something he prefers to observe before engaging. When he is comfortable with someone, he is more likely to speak, his countenance relaxed and friendly. Silas feels everything almost too sharply. It's why he pretends not to care. Detachment is an armor he can use. He shrugs off praise, deflects intimacy, and treats affection like a dangerous drug. Tempting, addicting, and best handled in moderation. Despite this, Silas is not cruel. He has a quiet moral code, one shaped less by laws and societal standards, and more by personal lines he refuses to cross. He despises exploitation, particularly of the vulnerable, and harbors a visceral hatred for abusers of power. He is protective in subtle ways. He stands between others and danger without comment, offering help framed as indifference, and vanishes before gratitude can be given. This is in stark contrast to his current position. Each small gig he runs, each experiment he is forced to assist in leaves a sour, copper taste in his mouth. His desperation had been used against him and the lines he has crossed can no longer be uncrossed. Still, he rebels in little ways. Romantically, Silas is elusive. He falls slowly, reluctantly, but once he does, it is with a depth that borders on dangerous devotion. He fears commitment as much as he craves it. Anyone who gets close enough can sense it. He listens too intently. Remembers details he pretends not to care about. He pulls away when things get too real. He sabotages and deflects, disappears into his work. He calls it protection, but it's just fear. He may have forgotten who he was, but what he is still remains. An artist who turns pain into sound and calls it music.

Background ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Current Occupation | Lead Singer and Guitarist for AS ABOVE, SO BELOW • Level of Schooling | Unknown, at least GED equivalent • Past Occupations | Unknown • Socioeconomic Status | Wealthy, by any standard • History Summary | Silas' memory starts a relatively long time ago, by human standards. He woke up one day, dressed in rags and on the street, not a penny to his name and no recollection of who he was. He didn't even realize he was a vampire until his hunger first hit him. It came suddenly, a feeling in his gut that twisted and wretched, as if it might eat him from the inside out if he didn't do something about it. He stole food, drinks, anything, but nothing staved off the hunger. The smell of the humans that walked by him made his pulse race. His mind would go blank except for the sound of liquid pumping through their veins. One unlucky girl, stopped, concern written on her face, and offered him a few coin. This was when he snapped, he lunged for her, tugging her into the dark alley and feeding on her until there was no life left in her. When he finished, he looked down at the corpse and nearly wretched. It took several more years of fighting it for Silas to finally come to terms with who he was. By then, he had picked up a few things. A guitar and some more comfortable clothes. He found he had an innate talent for music, his fingers plucking chords with an ease he could only assume came from practice he couldn't remember. His music felt like an old friend, a comforting presence. His music also brought people to him and people meant food. He learned how to stay in the shadows, playing softly enough to lure in one human at a time. It was hard at first, but eventually he could get them to follow them deeper into dark alleys. And eventually, his music would placate them enough where he could feed quietly and without much resistance. It didn't always work the first few times and he killed more than he cared to admit those first few years, but it kept him fed and that was all he needed. One day, several years ago he was approached by a wealthy, and very dangerous man. He introduced himself to Silas as Magnus Corvane and offered him a very tempting deal. Play for him and he would ensure Silas' success. He would set up venues, give Silas a place to stay and record, give him a new name, give him everything he needed to lead a comfortable life. As much as it now pains Silas to admit, he accepted the offer with an eagerness that only rivaled a starving dog. He didn't bother to read the fine print. Not until it was too late. Magnus revealed several months later what his true plans for Silas were. Only after Silas' had had a taste of the life he craved. He became trapped, unable to leave and unwilling to part with his new life as Silas Grey. He was made to host venues, small, private and intimate, where he would play and use his Dominion to placate and allow Magnus' men to feed. It was all in the name of experimentation. Silas never really knew for what, but he had his guesses. Once a venue went so poorly that it ended in a violent bloodbath. Still covered in a wash of human blood, Silas was scolded violently. He was starved for a time and the next time he was called for a venue, there was a new band member, the prior having been replaced with sickening ease. She was a Fae, adept at Dreamweaving. She was going to help temper his powers.

Race-Specific Questions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Race info ▸ Vampires ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Born or Turned? | Turned • Blood Source Preference | Synthetic • Blood Addiction Risk (1-5) | 2 • View on Fae Blood Ban | Apathy • Views on Mortals | Innocent in all of this. • Views on Fae | Intriguing • Views on Lycan | Apathy Miscellaneous ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Theme Song | Bad Omens - The Grey • Favorite Food | Pizza • Favorite Animal(s) | Cats • Favorite Music Genre | Classical/Celtic/Folk • Favorite Haunt | The Underground & The Rusty Halo • Signature Weapon | Music • Preferred Vices | Hard Liquor, Tobacco • Pet Peeve | Talking over music/movies/etc ✦ Clapping Off Beat ✦ Shitty Sound Systems ✦ Anyone touching his instruments without asking ✦ Lying for "his own good" • Guilty Pleasure | Trashy TV ✦ Someone Brushing/playing with his hair ✦ Soft Intimacy ✦ Sleeping Late ✦ Moments of Silence ............................................................ Come throw your heart into the waves Your soul is lost, and still it saves Drink in me and come undone Trade a thousand lives for one Come away, drink it in Drink and sink and let it end Drink and sink and let it end You are no more, you are no less For all must die, all must rest Bring your body unto me Let your graveyard be the sea Come away and drink it in Drink and sink and let it end Drink and sink and let it end - siren song by kiera cass

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6PM
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Dress
Interactions: N/A

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Nora stood at the threshold of the ballroom, just having been announced, and allowed the warmth and noise of the ballroom wash over her. Music swelled while the courtiers clustered like bright little birds. She could feel their eyes on her, sharp and watchful. The marble beneath her shoes was cold, grounding. It reminded her. Be ordinary.

Nox, normally always at her side, was nowhere to be seen. His absence was a quiet ache, a missing weight she carried with her with each step. She could still feel him, outside in the bushes and shrubbery. Close enough to still be effective, but out of sight. His presence tonight, after what transpired that morning, was a risk she could not afford to take. Not with the King’s watchful gaze slicing over the crowd like a sword.

Normal. I’m just a normal girl.

She moved as she had practiced with her maid, Margot. Margot had been the one to suggest that she leave Nox outside. She’d been the one to hear the whispers, the hushed tones of the kingdom after the ashes of the Queen had cooled. She was the one who had cautioned Nora to be extra vigilant tonight. Her steps were muffled by the fabric of her long red dress, a piece her family had chosen well before she arrived. Its weight was more than just physical. It carried the expectations that she should find a good husband. A weight on her shoulders she’d been unable to forget about.

Her movements were measured, quiet, and unassuming. She nodded here and there, smiling politely where appropriate, and made her way towards an area that suited her. She aimed to be a woman that others would glance at and forget.

She took her place among the court, her heart steady for the moment, and her magic held deep and quiet where it could not be sensed or seen. Every few seconds, she would check for Nox again, and he would answer, calling back to let her know he was there and ready.

Tonight was not for flames or defiance. For Nora, it was barely for romance and courting. It was about survival. Fear lived under her skin, like embers burning in low underbrush.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Nik & Ari

FLASHBACK

Location: Edwards Estate Time: Ignis 5 Evening

Nik let out a breath as the Duke left. His gaze glanced to Ariella as he waited for the old man to be further out of earshot. Once he was sure he was, Nikolai relaxed. He leaned back against the seat, let his legs spread out a bit more, and watched the girl carefully. Now that he had a chance to say whatever he wanted, he found himself at a loss for words.

”Look, let me level with you, sweetheart.” He started, ”This is as much a cage for me as it is for you. I think we could potentially come to an agreement to scratch each other’s backs.”

Nik shifted a bit, rolling his shoulder blades calmly. ”I’ll keep my distance so you won’t even know I’m there. And I won’t step in unless absolutely necessary. In return…” He explained, his voice low and quiet, ”You tell daddy dearest over there how wonderfully I protect you.” He pointed towards where Gideon had left with a head tilt.

”Do we have a deal?”

Ari sat stunned for a moment, her mouth slightly opening as if she meant to say something, but instead she caught herself. Her mind was still foggy as she attempted to form some words.

She sat back in her seat, studying him for a moment.

”Deal.” As those words left her, suddenly she seemed to relax. Her shoulders dropped slightly as a breath of relief left her. She hoped that he really would hold his word.

Looking around awkwardly at the food, she grabbed a few things onto her plate—some bread, cheese, and a few pieces of vegetables. She wasn’t sure how much her stomach could handle after last night.

” Did my father tell you…” Her eyes flicked up at him before looking back at her plate. ”..what happened last night? Or why has he employed you?”

Well at least she’d seemed to relax. He hadn’t entirely expected her to agree, if he was being honest with himself, but he was happy she had. That would at least allow him the chance to watch her without her trying to do anything stupid. She seemed stupid, but not rock bottom.

His eyes glanced over her as she grabbed more food. She seemed like she wasn’t entirely all there, like she was up in space somewhere sometimes. It worried him, but he’d just have to pay more attention to her.

Nikolai lifted a hand to scratch at his neck as she spoke. ”Nope. I have been left blissfully in the dark about all of this.” He replied, deciding that he would be honest with her as much as he possibly could. If he hoped to actually protect her, he needed her to trust his judgement.

”Care to share why Hunters would be a problem for you?” He asked, his head tilting ever so slightly.

Poking at her food, she managed to pull some bread from her plate, tearing a piece off as her hand slowly raised to her mouth. The shake in her hand was evident as she ate a piece. Mindful of her stomach, she swallowed it carefully.

” My brother and I were at an event last night when a group of hooligans broke into the tavern. They took all of us hostage…” She took a breath as the smell of her brothers' burning flesh hit her nose. She brought her napkin to her nose as she tried to keep the bread down.

Nik’s brow furrowed. She looked like she was going to be sick from just the memory. His head started a dull throb as familiarity surfaced before fading away. His furrowed brows turned into something of a scowl, though certainly not at her.

” They tied him to a post and burned him with a hot poker over and over, forcing us to drink. I was so drunk already, I don't remember too much. I only remember the smell of his skin burning, the pain…” She paused to take a drink of her water.

Unknowingly, Nik sucked in a breath at her words, cringing at the thought of it. He’d seen rather horrible things, to be sure, but that never made it any easier to hear or deal with. In fact, it made it somewhat worse, knowing the smell she’d described.

” I ran towards him and shielded him from the next branding but…” She paused, glancing to look up at him, her face expression slightly hollow. The words sat at the tip of her tongue. ” I used a powerful dark magic spell that casted a pulse. A large one. I don’t know exactly what happened after because I passed out. I don't remember much else.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked, but he liked to think he hid it well. His arms had crossed while she spoke and his eyes narrowed for a moment before he looked down at the table in front of him. ”So, your father wants me to protect you from Hunters because of what you’d shown publicly, then?” He asked, his tone somewhat matter-of-fact. His expression, however, was one of sympathy.

Nodding, she managed to take another small piece of bread. ” Yes…there is more, but for now, that I am sure is his biggest worry. The hunters could have been in the tavern for all I know. The last one paraded a woman on a long iron chain.” She took in a breath, sitting back against her chair as her eyes met his.

” Needless to say, it is a threat that they take seriously. However, when it comes to my brothers, I would rather burn at the stake than watch that again.” She said without remorse.

He’d be lying if he said he understood her sentiment. There wasn’t a soul in this realm that Nik would burn for. Not a single one. But, he understood enough to know that this was a little tidbit that meant something to her and that he could use that. If it came to keeping her out of harms way, keeping her brother out of it was just as important.

He nodded solemnly. ”I’ll keep that in mind and consider him someone to protect as well.” He offered her an honest statement, even if his motives were dubious at best. At least she was opening up to him. Considering how much she’d just protested with her father, he was expecting more of a fight. Though, if he was honest, he’d probably only placated her for a time. Eventually, he would have to step in to actually protect her and he doubted she would like that. Especially if it came to either her or her brother. He could only hope he’d never have to make that choice.

Finishing the roll, she took another sip of water. ” I imagine my father would be very happy to hear that.” She was surprised at his lack of shock or concern with her admission of magic use.

” What is your story?” Her eyes glanced outside the dining room before returning to him. ” How did you get into all of this? In truth, she needed the distraction to keep focus off her twisting stomach as she continued to eat slowly.

He took a moment to think on her question. He wasn’t entirely sure how much he wanted to reveal. While she had been very forthcoming with him, he wasn’t known for opening up to others. He was more laughs and charm than heart-to-hearts. But, he knew that if he didn’t sound sincere right now, she might not trust him. Trust was hard to earn and easily lost. He knew that much.

”I’m not sure there’s much to tell.” He started, his voice low. He shifted again, this time letting one leg stretch out farther to the side. His gaze lowered to his hands as he tried to consider very carefully what to reveal. ”I want to be a force of good.” He finally spoke, his voice much softer than it had been, but clearly determined. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable and sat up a bit more straight.

”I also have a lot to prove and my own cage to break out of, so.” He continued, his lips pressed together as a way to suppress something akin to anger, but not quite as heated. Disappointment? Disdain? None of the words seemed to fit. ”While this is a cage, it’s my only shot at getting out of it. I have to let him think I’m trapped.” He admitted, his gaze shifting from his hands back up to her to see her reaction.

Ari didn’t speak right away. She let the silence stretch, his words settling between them like something fragile that shouldn’t be handled too roughly. Her gaze lingered on him, thoughtful, unreadable, before drifting down to the table.

Without ceremony, she reached out and nudged one of the plates toward him, the simple gesture carrying more meaning than any reassurance she might have offered.

“You should eat,” She said quietly. “If you’re going to be staying here, you might as well make yourself at home.” She smiled softly before eating more herself.

“So.” She interrupted the silence, trying to change the subject to something more light-hearted. “What things do you enjoy?” She let a small laugh out nervously. “Sorry, I've never had a guard before…I don’t know what I am doing or what might be appropriate…”

He felt worry spread over him, thick like tar and he hated it. Hated the feeling of the silence that sat between them after he spoke. He hated the way it made him feel and the anxiety that bubbled up. Nik was a man who was always sure of himself, never let himself feel this way, worried about how others viewed him. But he needed her to trust him so... here he was.

His gaze flickered from the offered plate to her and back again. Well, that was a good sign. He glanced up at her again as she spoke. A smile, that was a great sign, considering what he'd seen earlier.

He let the feeling of that victory relax him, knowing that his discomfort was worth something. He grabbed at a piece of bread and dipped it into some of the food before taking a rather large bite himself. He glanced up again as she spoke, her question not necessarily surprising him. He took a moment to chew and swallow before answering her.

"Just treat me like a friend and we'll be just fine." He started, flashing her a smile, "Things that shouldn't enter the ears of a pretty little noble lady such as yourself." Nik took another bite and chewed for a moment, watching her reaction.

She blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Pretty little noble lady?” A brow raised as she held back a laugh. “If you want me to treat you like a friend, then you can’t treat me like a pretty little noble lady”. She pulled apart another piece of bread.

“So...What is it that you enjoy?” She offered him a grin as she seemed very interested now.

He cleared his throat at her reaction. Not exactly what he was hoping for, but what could he expect? Innocent little noble girl who doesn't want to know all the juicy details? Right. He couldn't even argue her point either. He had told her to treat him like a friend. Damn smartass bit-

He stopped himself before he let the thought continue. He needed to placate, earn trust, build something with her enough so that she'd trust his calls. He just had to keep telling himself that. Though, he wasn't sure she would enjoy an honest answer. Doesn't mean he wouldn't enjoy teasing her. Nikolai leaned in closer, elbows firmly on the table as he watched her.

"Women, mainly." He replied simply, a stupid smirk on his face and a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

She could feel her cheeks brighten against her already pale complexion. women. She reached for her glass of water as she felt his intense look from across the table.

"I see... well.." Her eyes glanced over to the side of the parlor while taking a sip of her water. "I enjoy...the company of men as well." She stated rather matter of factly, but the tone gave her away. She wasn't confident in the way she spoke; her words were hollow and untrue. Though she continued her attempt at lying when in truth she had little experience with men. She really had only ever kissed Callum, but she wasn't going to let him think she was some prudish lady of the court.

"How- many? Women.. that is..have you entertained yourself with?" Her face still rather red.

This time, he didn’t stop the snort that bubbled up at her response. He cleared his throat, a sly smile still on his face. Leaning back, Nik watched her for a moment, amber eyes looking over her features. He wondered how much it would take to get her to crack. Should he be doing this, having this conversation with her at all? No. He shouldn’t be humoring this line of conversation. But at the moment, Nik was having fun and that’s all he cared about.

”Guess.”

”Ten,” She blurted out without much thought. Surely that was a lot.

Nik’s laughter filled the dining room they were in, loud and full of life. ”Ten?!” He laughed some more, his smile widening. He lifted a hand up to her as he tried to stop, ”Sorry, sorry. Just…”

”It’s quite a bit more than ten, sweetheart.” He told her, amusement still clear on his face. ”But, that’s a pretty good guess.” He added with another small laugh. He was even more certain that she hadn’t been with any man, much less the plural ‘men’ she claimed.

Her eyes glanced back towards the hall before looking back at Nik, his laughter caught her off guard but also sent a shock of embarrassment. ”Fifty?” She countered, strangely interested now to know the answer.

He laughed again, shaking his head at her. ”Closer.”

”Closer?” She echoed, surprised.

The word closer landed heavier than she expected, stirring in her a mix of disbelief but also nerves in her chest. She sat back in her seat, just lifting her chin a fraction as if fixing her posture would steady her. Her fingers curled into her gown under the table.

”Closer…” She repeated again as if it would save her from embarrassment.

”Seventy-five?” As the number left her lips she suddenly realized just how different the two were. She had kissed 1…1 man. While he—

She swallowed hard as a nervous smile followed her next guess.

He watched her tousle with the idea, enjoyed the look on her face as she tried to consider just how many people that was. He tapped his finger against the arm of his chair.

”Much closer.” He chuckled. He had to wonder what she would think of that, knowing just how many women he had slept with or that he had actually mostly kept track of them. His number might be a little fudged, considering there were a few nights with some Alidasht women he didn’t remember very well. He couldn’t be sure how many bodies had been present for those, if he was honest.

”A hundred?” Her jaw was nearly on the table by this point.

Another laugh as he shook his head. ”About 83. I think. I might have lost count and some of the memories are hazy…” He replied, mumbling a bit as he trailed off. He offered her a smile. ”What about you, Pretty Little Noble Lady?” He asked with a smirk.

”A lady never tells” She deflected, attempting to cover her story. ”Not 83 but…I have some.” She cleared her throat before taking a sip of water. Nik raised a brow, clearly not believing her in the slightest.

After a long silence she slumped slightly in her chair.

”I’m lying, I don't even know why I'm trying to pretend.” She sighed heavily at her lack of suitors. ”I hate balls, I hate the courting season…I hate wearing heels, ball gowns, having my hair fussed over…It doesn’t leave much room for…fun.”

Suddenly, Ari word-vomited, ”Do you think I'm attractive?” She paused as the color in her face disappeared as she realized she just allowed her thoughts to slip from her mouth. ”I’m not ugly? I don't think? I know I'm a bit weird and now this magic situation I'm sure doesn’t help but…Am I really that hopeless.” The words erupted like a panicked thought.

She glanced up at the man. ”Actually..just forget I even asked.”

He listened as she rambled. His eyes went wide as she asked him if she was attractive. He was reaching dangerous territory here. It set his nerves on edge like he was two steps from walking into a trap he wouldn’t be able to easily get himself out of. His mind started racing with ways he could get out of this conversation now.

Nik looked down at the silver rings on his fingers for a moment before he finally looked back up at her. ”Have you had enough to eat?” He asked. He’d pulled the mask back on—the practiced expressions, the measured responses. He needed the distance and he needed it several sentences ago.

”Oh…” She looked down at the plate of half eaten food.

She pushed the plate away from herself. ”Yes, I suppose I have. Have you?” She shifted the conversation, aware that she had clearly embarrassed herself.

He paused for a moment, looking down at her food. She’d barely touched her food and he could hear her father yelling at him now. Or at least firmly scolding him. He took in a breath very slowly, trying not to make it noticeable, and let it out just as slowly. He sat back down just as quickly as he’d stood up.

”Sorry. I should have noticed the state of your plate.” He spoke, his voice a little lower, like he was already kicking himself for what he’d done. ”Does it hurt your stomach?” He asked, a genuine flash of concern crossing his features.

”Yes…I’m not feeling quite myself today. This is all I managed to eat today.”

”And for what’s it worth… If you weren’t the Duke’s daughter, I wouldn’t have thought twice about taking you to bed.” He offered as he twisted one of the rings on his finger, ”So, no. You aren’t ugly and your magic doesn’t scare me. If anything, it would make you more intriguing. The only thing I find hard to swallow is that I am your guard.”

She bit back a smile, attempting to hide it. It wasn’t that she wanted to take the man to bed, but the validation from clearly a very sought after and objectively handsome man did put a smile on her face.

”And as my guard…” She said, still biting back her smile. ”These conversations are strictly confidential.”

A soft sigh left his lips as Nik got up from his chair and walked over to the other side of the table. He reached for her chair and leaned down just long enough to whisper, ”As you wish.” The hairs on her neck rose, starting to understand why his list was so long.

He tugged her chair out for her, helping her up. He’d have to see if he could get the cooks to make something that would settle on her stomach a bit easier. Maybe some broth? His mother made a mean vegetable broth maybe he could…

She stumbled out of the chair, falling into the table as the sudden rush to her head sent the room spinning. Nik jerked, his hand reaching for her to help her back up.

”Sorry…” She whispered as she straightened herself. After a moment the room seemed to settle, but her legs continued to feel as if she had walked for two days straight.

He thought for a moment, his eyes looking her over as he did. Picking her up felt like the wrong choice, since she seemed to care so much about agency. Asking felt like the move and if she said no, well—he’d just carry her up anyway. At least he tried asking first.

”Come. I’ll carry you back to your room.” He told her. It didn’t sound too much like a question like he’d intended it to be, but at least he didn’t go with his gut which was just pick her up without saying anything.

She wanted to argue, to laugh in his face, but instead just nodded weakly. ”Okay..” She was in no place to argue. ”Or maybe.. the top of the stairs” She tried to compromise. At least then she could show him where he would be staying.

”Of course.” He replied, having every intention of not letting her down until she was in her room. He could probably be convinced to let her down early, but with how she was looking and sounding, he was admittedly worried about her. And himself. Just imagining the angry letter from his grandfather if the girl died on the first day from falling down the stairs gave him enough pause to not want to let her down.

He lifted her with ease, rough hands calloused from hard work scratching against the fabric of her dress. She was light and easy to carry, nothing he hadn’t expected. ”Hold on.” He told her as soft grunts of pain escaped her.

Once he was sure that she wasn’t going anywhere, he started carrying her towards the door. ”You may have to direct me. I don’t really know my way around.” He spoke once he was in the doorway. He spotted a set of stairs nearby. ”Those stairs?” He asked, looking down at her.

She nodded, looking at just how large the stairs were. She felt grateful for his help. ”Yes, then to the right down the hall…I made sure I was on the opposite side of my parents…”

He raised a brow at her comment as he walked over to the stairs. ”I’ve wanted to ask. I know a lot of people have issues with their parents for various reasons,” He started, ascending the stairs carefully, ”but what have yours done to you?” He thought back to her father and how thoughtful he had been; nothing he had said had seemed unreasonable to Nikolai. If anything, he’d have killed to have a father like that.

Glancing up at him, she stayed silent.

”I don't think you’re ready for that one.” She laughed slightly. ”Meet my Mother, then perhaps we can have that conversation.”

He smiled briefly, nodding at her reply. ”Fair enough,” He returned. He could understand not wanting to talk about it. Though there was a part of him that wished she’d give him more to go on. He didn’t much like surprises and the more he knew, the better equipped he felt.

It didn’t take him terribly long to get to the top of the stairs, where instead of letting her down, he turned to the right. His boots echoed quietly in the dimly lit hallway.

Her mind continued to go in and out; the soft rocking against his warm body made her eyes heavy as her body hung limply in his arms. She hadn’t even noticed until they started approaching her door.

The floors were covered in ornate carpet; vases and expensive paintings hung on the wall. The decorations spared no expense but to some would lack any taste. The door stood out amongst the pristine hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door, handpainted with strokes of white, blues, purples, and greens. As they drew closer the details of the flowers grew clearer—wild vines painted up and along the frame, favoring the right as if it were naturally growing from the ground. Small petals intricately placed into the design as if it were raining petals. The strokes of paint were wild yet measured.

”Hey…I said I would walk.” She said half consciously, swatting the air with her hand as if she were even close to hitting him.

”Did you? My bad.” He returned, as if he hadn’t heard her to begin with. He did, however, move to set her down now that they were at her door. He eyed the art on her door. An artist, huh? He wondered if she’d done that or if they paid someone.

”Go get settled for bed. I’ll be back in a few moments, okay?” He told her, offering her a small smile.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lucian & Mina: A Touching Moment

Part 2

Time: 3pm, Ignis 4
Location: Sorian Guesthouse
Outfits: Lucian’s Outfit Mina Outfit

---

He wasn’t sure what he should have expected. Of course she would be hurt, he knew that deep down but had pushed for the kiss all the same and he was kicking himself for it now. He felt her words cut him like a hot knife. It was beneath him. His jaw tightened as he clenched. He hated the weight of that damned crown. More often, it felt more like a crown of thorns than anything else. In his eyes, there was no beneath or above.

”Feelings are lost on royalty, hm?” He remarked, admittedly much more coldly than he intended. ”I’ll try to stop, but not because it is beneath me but because you are deserving of much more.” He explained. His tone was firm, but gentle.

”Who called you that?” He asked, snapping to look at her again. He’d heard the rest of her words, yes, and they shocked him as well, but he was still stuck on the title she had used for herself. ”Mina, stop. I asked who called you that?” He asked again, reaching for her arm to stop her. There was a scowl on his face, an anger he couldn’t quite place.

Mina flinched as his fingers tightened around her arm, not because it hurt, but because the heat of his anger startled her. She looked up at him, seeing that the sorrow in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a scowl. It struck her as almost laughable—after all the time she had spent feeling cast aside, now he was acting as though her honor was something precious he needed to protect. That it was something worth defending.

"Does it matter?" she asked, her voice airy and brittle. She tried to pull away, but she could feel herself crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. "I imagine the list of people who haven't used that title would be shorter, Lucie. It would be a very small piece of paper."

She let out a short, brittle laugh that caught in her throat. Mina tried to pretend the name meant nothing, but she could feel the mask slipping. Each time she forced herself to say it, the ache in her chest grew heavier, as if she were collecting stones one by one.

"But if you are truly looking for the architect," she continued, her tone dropping even as her eyes grew glassy, "you need look no further than the 'charming' King Edin. He was the first to realize that a woman who cannot be controlled is best dismantled with a few choice whispers."

She met his eyes, and for a moment she let him see the cracks in her composure. Only then did she realize he truly hadn’t heard. He had been gone when the whispers first began, safe in the comfort of his marriage while she had been left behind, picked apart by the court’s gossip.

"He planted the seed, and the rest were only too happy to water it," she whispered, her fingers ghosting over the hand he held her with. "Don't play the hero tonight, Lucian. It’s far too late for that, for me. I’m fine. Just... just walk me back."

As the last word slipped from her lips, Mina felt her composure crumble. A single tear slid down her cheek, silent and warm, before falling onto the back of his hand where his grip still held her in place.

”Yes, yes it does matter.” He replied simply, unable to quell the anger he felt. He felt her tug away but refused to allow her. His grip tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to show her that he meant what he said. Hearing her words only angered him more. How long had she endured this alone? How long had she suffered this weight in silence?

When she told him who had coined her title, he felt his stomach twist. Surely he had not. Surely the king had more grace and tact than to resort to baseless rumors. And that besides, why Mina? What benefit would he have in doing this to her? Control? It was clear to him that he had been holed away in his grief for far too long. The Sophia in his dream flashed before him briefly before Kilian’s words about the King resurfaced. It made his blood boil again. Fool of a King....

”Why? Should I go back to my sorrow? Drown myself in drink again?” He asked, his tone a bit more accusatory than he meant it. ”I’ve no illusions of playing the hero or making all of this go away for you. My power only reaches so far and I’ve never been very good at protecting those close to me…” His voice cracked just slightly.

”But can you at least let me try? It might be selfish of me, but…” He felt his throat tighten. ”I can’t keep burying my head in the sand, pretending the world isn’t moving on without me, pretending like I don’t care if it does.” He turned his head down to look at her hand, thumb brushing over the back of it.

He felt the tears before he saw them and felt a tug, like a gravitation to protect her. His eyes scanned the room briefly to ensure none were around before he pulled her into an isolated hallway. Lucian tugged her into his arms, wrapping them around her small frame. ”Let it out if you want to. I’ll hide you… He whispered, a hand reaching up to pat at her hair. ”Orrr punch me if it’ll make you feel better. I can take it… I think. Probably.” He lightly joked, trying to lift the mood even if just a little.

Mina flinched, the raw honesty in his voice stripping away her final layer of defense. He wasn't just reaching for warmth; he was reaching for a reason to stop drowning. "You're an idiot, Lucian," she choked out, her voice cracking as he pulled her into the shadows. "A royal, selfless, thick-headed idiot."

The idea of him trying to protect her now, after the world had already done its worst, made something inside her snap. It was a terrifying, suffocating kind of hope. "You think I want you to drown? You think I read those letters and learning of your devastation, just waiting for the day you’d finally decide to come up for air?" She balled her fist and struck his shoulder hard. It wasn't a lady’s tap, but a strike fueled by over a decade of silence and the agony of knowing he had been wasting away, broken by the death of someone they both cared about, and Mina not being able to do anything to help. "I have spent years being the person everyone else needs me to be! I’ve stepped aside again and again, throwing away my own happiness so others could be happy! I have fought every vulture in this court alone while you were away!" It wasn’t actually his fault, she knew that, and she wasn’t actually mad at him. She was angry with herself.

She hit him again, the strike landing weaker as her voice broke. "How dare you offer me safety now? How dare you make me want it?"

"Damn you, Lucian! Damn you for being so blind! And damn you for coming back and making me feel something again when I had finally learned how to be cold. I was safe when I was numb!"

Her hands uncurled, her fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of his shirt as her knees finally gave way. She collapsed into him, her forehead dropping against his chest as the first true sob racked her frame. It was an ugly, broken sound as the dam finally burst. She clung to him with a white-knuckled grip, letting the 'Whore of Varian' wither away in the darkness of the hallway, leaving nothing behind but a girl who was simply, devastatingly tired.

After a long moment, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her face tear-stained and her expression deadly serious.

"Listen to me," she whispered, her voice firm despite the tremors. "If you ever decide to spiral back into a bottle, I will find you. I’ll drag you out myself, or I’ll dive right into the wreckage with you just to make sure you don't have a moment's peace. I won't let you disappear again. You and I both know Sophia wouldn't want that for you... and neither do I. Do you understand?"

He smiled faintly as she called him an idiot, though if asked he probably couldn’t have told you why. Perhaps because he agreed with her. He was many of those things, selfless though, he’d have to disagree on. The fragility in her voice made his heart ache, his mind once again thinking of Mina dealing with all of this on her own for so long. Perhaps they could both benefit from sharing their anguish and pain. Perhaps some of her burden could be lifted if he shared it with her. Perhaps.

The faint smile faded the moment she started talking more. He kept his arms wrapped around her, her scent filling his lungs, intoxicatingly soft. A rather frustrating juxtaposition to the current mood. Her words stung, a thousand little needles in his heart, but he needed her to say them. He needed to hear them, take that weight and that blame. He winced as she hit him, a small part of him taken aback by the force of it. That was going to smart for a little while…

Each strike against him was weaker than the last, but damn if it didn’t still hurt his shoulder. He made a mental note to never piss this woman off. Ever. He listened quietly as she spoke, cursing him. He would take it all, shoulder that blame. What was just a little more self loathing after all? He couldn’t begin to understand what it was she was feeling, the emotions coursing through her. He could, on some levels, understand the pain of coming out of a numbing stupor, of raising your head above the dirt you had buried it under. He understood all too well how painful it was to pull yourself out of your comfort. For him, that had been his grief. Oddly enough, his grief had been his armor, a way to protect himself. He could hole himself away and not face the world. It took a wake up call from the ghost of his late wife to jog him into the realization that he couldn’t do that any longer.

He felt the weight of her as she collapsed against him, arms tightening as he held her up. For her, his expression was probably one of pity, but to him it felt like looking into a mirror somehow. His pain reflected by hers.

”Hey, hey.. I’ve got you…” He spoke softly, his grip on her tightening again as he felt the force of her tears. For such a strong fist, she felt so small and frail in his arms, like he could envelope her whole. He rested his head against hers, letting her cry as long as she needed to. He would have stood there holding her until his legs collapsed if she needed it. Though, he was thankful he didn’t have to.

His gaze was soft as she turned to look at him, his brows furrowed ever so slightly in concern. A smile grew as she spoke, turning into a soft, light laughter. It faded just briefly as she mentioned Sophia. He took a moment to look at her, truly look at her. The Mina he knew in youth was still there, just behind her eyes, but the woman standing before him was almost poetically beautiful. There was a tragic sort of beauty in her eyes sore from her tears and in the raw, unfiltered emotions she had allowed herself. His heart twinged, twisting ever so slightly in conflict.

”I’m not going anywhere.” He promised. He knew what Ambrose thought of his promises and his abilities to keep them. He knew his own damned shame about it, but he had every intention of keeping his promises now. He’d keep them even if it killed him.

Mina studied his face, searching for any sign of uncertainty, but instead she found only a quiet, unwavering resolve. The weight of his promise settled over her, unexpected and almost overwhelming. She realized, in that moment, that she had been longing for this very thing, a simple vow to stay, without ever daring to hope for it.

She let out a long, shaky breath, her fingers finally relaxing their death-grip on the damp linen of his shirt. "See that you don't," she murmured, her voice thick and gravelly. "Because I wasn't there to pull you out the first time, Lucian... and I don't think I could live with myself if I let it happen again."

She drew back, just enough to try and gather what little dignity she could muster, pressing the heels of her hands firmly against her eyes. A small, irritated huff escaped her lips, a sound that betrayed her sudden, keen awareness of how unraveled she must appear.

“Wonderful,” she muttered, her voice thick with the remnants of tears and a touch of frustration. “Just look at me. My eyes must be swollen, and—” she paused, noticing the vivid streak of color on his shoulder, “—judging by that mark of lip rouge, I’ve managed to ruin your shirt as well. I must look wretched. Crying is such a dreadful, undignified thing, and now I’ve gone and left the evidence all over you.”

She fussed over herself for a moment, hands moving with a desperate sort of energy as she tried to smooth her hair and dab away the last traces of tears, as if she could somehow erase the evidence of her unraveling. Gradually, her movements slowed, and as she glanced up at him, the sheer absurdity of it all struck her. A soft, genuine laugh slipped out between the remnants of her hiccups. It was a sound that felt more like her old self than anything she had managed all evening. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head as she met his gaze. “I’m being utterly ridiculous. Thank you, Lucian. Truly.”

He nodded. He had no plans to run from this now. He needed to protect those that mattered the most to him. He couldn't afford to let more time slip by him.

He pressed his lips together to contain his laughter at her little huff. He'd laughed before and knew better, but he couldn't help but find it oddly endearing. He turned his head back down to look at her as she pulled away. He felt his breath hitch in his throat for just a moment, his stomach doing a small flip. He couldn't be sure what flip had switched and he knew how absolutely mad he would sound if he voiced this out loud.

She looked beautiful.

Even just thinking it broke his brain. How? Her eyes were a swollen mess, her lipstick smudged and everywhere. There were tears stains where her makeup had been washed away and he could hear how sniffly she was in her voice. But damned himself if he didn't find her absolutely attractive right now. It left him with a confused and stunned expression on his face that he just could not mask.

Her laughter broke his utter stupor as a flush of heat rose to his cheeks. The thoughts in his head right now were not the kind you had about friends. And he internally cursed himself for being such a hound when she'd literally just cried her heart out on him. He was a beast.

”You do look a little ridiculous.” He lied, poking at her side playfully. His gaze softened again as he looked back at her. ”Any time, Mini.” He returned, offering her a gentle smile.

”Let's get you to your room, shall we? Can't have anyone seeing you like this.” He asked, offering her his arm. Nevermind the fact that there was a small unspoken part of him that didn't want anyone to see her like this for very, very different reasons. Selfish, possessive reasons. Nothing he would ever openly admit to himself right now, anyway.

Mina caught the subtle shift in his expression, the dazed, almost stunned look that sent her heart stumbling in her chest. When he reached out to poke her side, the unexpected touch startled her just enough to bring her back to herself, though the heat that had curled in her chest refused to fade.

"A little?" she repeated, her voice carrying a weary edge as she managed a faint, crooked smile despite the redness around her eyes. "You’re a terrible liar, Lucian. I must look like a drowned cat." Without thinking, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, leaning into him as if drawn by instinct. The warmth of his arm against her shoulder was a comfort she found herself needing more than she wished to admit. She glanced up at him through her lashes, allowing a spark of mischief to flicker in her gaze, determined to make light of the absurdity that surrounded them.

"You're right, we should move," she said softly, her voice dropping into a low, teasing silkiness. "Imagine the scandal if we were caught like this. The Varian Crown Prince and Lady Mina Blackwood, tucked so deep in the shadows it looks like they couldn't even make it back to her door without devouring one another."

A quiet, self-mocking laugh escaped her, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. She found herself searching his face, wondering what thoughts lingered behind his eyes, her mind drifting back to the way he had kissed her—the need in it, the heat. Her heart broke quietly at the thought that he might regret it, or worse, expect them to simply return to the way things had been, settled heavily in her chest. She tried to convince herself that they could go back, that nothing had changed, but as they walked, she doubted she would ever find her way back to what had once been normal.

"It's better than the truth," she murmured, drawing a little nearer to his side as they walked. "That I was standing here blubbering like a child and making a mess of your shirt. It makes for a far more interesting story, don’t you think? Certainly more on-brand for me." She pointed at a door now coming into view. “That’s my room.”

”Liar? Are you calling a crown prince a liar?” He asked, a playful tone to his voice. He wanted to prove her wrong but also didn’t want to admit how wrong she was. If this is what a drowned cat looked like, Lucian had some issues to work through. He stiffened just briefly as he felt her hand slip around his arm. It was the sort of thing a school aged boy would do when faced with his crush, though Lucian still hadn’t quite made that realization yet himself.

And then she looked up at him and the unholy thoughts raced back. He was going to need to do a lot of thinking later… He couldn’t know the way his eyes darkened just slightly as these thoughts came to him or what she would think when he averted his gaze. All at once he couldn’t remember how he had treated her before this. How close had he been before? Did he hug her casually before? Could he do it again now? His mind raced.

He very nearly choked as she spoke about possible scandal, not because it was shocking in and of itself but because it had been so similar to the thoughts racing through his head just moments ago. He needed a cold shower… and maybe a priest…

He only turned to look at her again when he heard her soft whisper. He shook his head, his throat making a soft sound in disagreement. ”Miss Mina Blackwood, I think it’s time for a rebrand. The Rose of Varian.” He started, looking her over. ”I can’t control what others say anymore than I can keep the sun from shining, but I can control the space between you and I. When you are with me, you are just Mina.” He explained, lifting his hand to her hair now, tussling it playfully.

”So frankly, I don’t give a damn what’s on-brand for you.” He shrugged, smiling at her. He turned to open the door for her before leaning against the wall beside it to wait for her to step inside. ”Go rest up and get refreshed. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’ve cleaned yourself up a bit. I’m upstairs in room 21 if you need me, okay?” He told her. ”Knock loudly though, I might be passed out. He laughed.

A quiet gasp escaped Mina as he tousled her hair, a small sound of protest that faded almost as soon as it began. She did not move away, choosing instead to linger at the threshold, her heart beating far too quickly in her chest. Turning to face him, she let her shoulder rest against the doorframe, delaying the inevitable return to her room. The thought of that silent space unsettled her; she knew it would be filled with the memory of his heartbeat and the lingering warmth of his touch.

"Careful," she murmured, a crooked, bratty little smirk finally surfacing as she smoothed her hair. She felt a reckless urge to push him, to see if the man who had just kissed her with such hunger was still simmering beneath the princely facade. "Remember what happened the last time one of us tousled the other's hair?" She leaned an inch closer, her eyes searching his with a sudden spark of boldness. "Unless, of course, that was the goal all along."

Her words lingered between them, charged and unspoken, the memory of his lips on hers still painfully clear. For a fleeting moment, she wished he would reach for her again, to draw her back into that world where nothing else existed. Yet uncertainty pressed down on her, a heavy ache settling in her chest at the thought that perhaps she alone was left unsteady. The realization left her teetering on the edge, and she released a soft, uncertain laugh, hoping to dispel the tension that had gathered. "I'm joking. Mostly. Though I think I was calling a Crown Prince a liar earlier... and I'm still waiting to see what he's actually going to do about such an insult to his honor."

Her expression softened then, the playfulness receding just enough to show the raw girl underneath. She looked at him, really looked at him, wondering if he knew how much power he held over her in this moment. "And I’ll try," she added quietly, her voice barely a whisper, a promise she wasn't sure she could keep but desperately wanted to. "To be just Mina. With you."

Mina hesitated, her eyes falling to the faint rouge mark on his shirt—a small, undeniable sign of her presence, a trace of the woman she was with him. A wave of possessive longing swept through her, unexpected and undeserved, and she found herself searching his gaze once more, a flicker of mischief returning to her expression.

"Room 21," she repeated, her voice dropping into a playful, velvet hum that masked the tremor in her hands. "You’re far too trusting, Lucie. I can be a very loud knocker when needy, and I’m not sure I’m quite finished making a mess of your night just yet."

He watched her move, expecting her to start heading into her room. When she paused to lean against the doorway, he realized he’d been hoping she wouldn’t leave. He raised a brow when she told him to be careful. Careful of what, he wondered with mild amusement.

She answered that before he had time to even consider it. He felt heat creep up to his cheeks again and he kicked himself for being so sensitive. His eyes went wide as she leaned in closer, close enough for him to get another breath of her scent. She.. certainly was not helping his… mood. Though, he was beginning to think that was her plan.

He felt a drop in his chest when she said she’d been joking, unable to stop the disappointment he felt. That, in and of itself, was something new, something he’d have to figure out on his own. ”What better way to combat an insult than to simply be the bigger person and continue to be a Prince who does not lie. He replied, conveniently forgetting the lie he’d told just a moment ago.

His own expression softened and he seemed to relax a bit more in his posture. ”Good girl.” He offered softly, smiling at her. He knew it wouldn’t fix everything, couldn’t possibly. But, that shouldn’t stop him from doing what he could do.

The look on her face next had heat rushing back to his face. Didn’t she say she’d been kidding? Was she trying to give him whiplash? He swallowed hard, nodding his head as she repeated his room number. He was trying to ignore the way she sounded, the way her voice seemed to envelop him like velvet.

”M-Mess?” He stammered without thinking, his composure breaking for a moment. He coughed, trying to regain his composure. ”That’s… If… If you need me…” He added after a moment, his voice breaking slightly as his brain tried to reboot.

Mina’s heart lurched in her chest. The words “good girl” echoed in her mind, leaving her flushed and unsteady on her feet. It was both a command and a compliment, and she felt herself unraveling under the weight of it.

She watched him falter, his stammering giving her a brief sense of control before it was replaced by a sharp, restless longing. "Do you... do you want me, Lucian?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, and she felt her cheeks burn as she realized what she had said. "T-to need you, that is. Because I think I..."

She didn't finish the sentence. She couldn't. Instead, she found herself leaning closer, her body acting on a primal instinct that overrode every bit of her common sense. She was moving into his space again, her gaze locked on his mouth, her mind screaming a silent, pathetic plea for him to just reach out and take her. She wanted him to bridge the gap, to pull her into her room and slam the door on the rest of the world.

Behind her, the cacophony in her head reached a fever pitch. The voices. The unseen, persistent weights that followed her everywhere swelled in a chaotic symphony. Some were laughing at her desperation, mocking her for thinking a Prince could ever truly want a ruined thing like her. Others were whispering foul, encouraging things, urging her to take what she wanted while the shadows were still deep enough to hide them.

The noise was deafening, a whirlwind of shame and desire that had her teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown. She was a heartbeat away from reaching for his shirt, from begging him to ruin her properly—

"Mina? Is that you?"

The voice hit her like a physical strike. Mina didn't just startle; she recoiled, her entire body locking into a state of rigid, primal terror.

Sebastian.

A flicker of jagged anger and sharp frustration crossed her face, but it was instantly swallowed by a cold, paralyzing fear. It was the kind of fear reserved for a predator that has finally cornered its prey. Her uncle had become a shadow over her life, his behavior growing more erratic, more unpredictable, and more dangerous with every passing month.

She stared at Lucian, her eyes wide and glassy with a sudden, raw vulnerability. She looked hunted. For a split second, the "Rose of Varian" was gone, and in her place was a girl terrified for her very life, silently pleading with the man in front of her to see the danger, even as she turned to face it.

By the time Sebastian’s footsteps sounded behind her, Mina had forced her expression into a careful mask, though it threatened to slip.

"Ah, Prince Lucian," Sebastian said, his voice carrying a booming, jovial warmth that felt like a serrated blade against Mina's nerves. He stepped up behind her, his hand settling heavily on her shoulder. It was a gesture that looked affectionate to an outsider but felt like a shackle to her. "I didn't realize you were here. I hope my niece hasn't been bending your ear too long with her nonsense. She does love to hear herself talk."

Mina kept her gaze fixed on the rouge stain on Lucian’s shirt, her breath coming in shallow, silent hitches.

Lucian froze, hearing the words from her lips.

"Do you... do you want me, Lucian?"

His brain short-circuited again. He half asked himself what she could have meant by that question, but he knew. It wasn’t hard to figure out. She’d said them so quietly, but it rang in his ears like a deafening chorus. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to answer that or if he should. The answer was yes, he couldn’t deny that even to himself on at least a physical level. But he knew that he needed to keep a level head. He needed to control himself and figure out his own feelings before he let his hormones take over.

She started leaning towards him and he felt like there was a carriage car racing towards him and he couldn’t bring himself to jump out of the way. ”Mina..” He started, trying to work up the courage to stop her, even as his hands began to lift, just ever so slightly, to reach for her.

He heard a familiar voice break the tension between them and all at once he felt like a boy having been caught by a parent doing something he shouldn’t. How long had Sebastian been there, he wondered as he turned to face the voice.

Lucian turned to look at Mina for a moment as Sebastian walked closer. He saw the look on her face, noticed the distinct change in how she carried herself. It was like night and day. Gone was the warmth from her face. Her body had gone rigid and saw the wide, terrified look in her eyes. It was something he’d expect out of someone who’d just seen a ghost or a beast, not their unwell uncle.

His gaze shifted back to Sebastian, who had closed the distance rather quickly, before returning to Mina. By the time he did, however, her expression had changed again. It was something more deliberate this time, but he could still see the fear in her eyes. Confusion furrowed his brow for a moment, but he quickly smoothed it to put a smile on his face for her uncle.

“Ahh, Sebastian! I hadn’t expected to see you here.” He started cordially. The reaction from Mina was a stark contrast to what he expected from her in regards to her uncle. Was she that scared that they had been caught?

”No, sir. She hasn’t.” He replied somewhat curtly, unable to mask the slight tilt of a brow raise. He did not like the way that sounded. It did not sound like the sort of thing you say about family.

”Actually, I was just about to invite her out to go eat dinner with my sisters. I know she hasn’t seen Marina in quite some time.” The lie came easily, but he wasn’t sure if it would matter. Still, he had to try. The look on her face was stamped in his mind and he felt like he couldn’t leave her alone now. ”Would you mind terribly if I took her to go see her? I fear my dear sisters would be truly distraught if they couldn’t see her soon.”

Somehow, he still felt powerless. He saw no way to easily drag her away from this, not without insulting the Count and not without creating problems for his parents. But he had been powerless one too many times. He had to try.

Sebastian’s hand settled on Mina’s shoulder, the weight of it making her tense beneath his touch. It was not just the pressure, but the way his fingers curled, possessive and unyielding, that made her want to shrink away. When Lucian lied, trying to intervene, Mina felt a flicker of hope, but her uncle’s grip only tightened, a silent warning that she could not ignore.

"How thoughtful, your Highness," Sebastian said, his voice a smooth, synthetic kindness. "But I must decline. My niece and I have private family matters to discuss over dinner. Important ones. Family must come first."

Mina caught the confusion in Lucian’s eyes, the way he tried to shield her with his words. She understood what he was doing, and as much as she wanted to let him stay, she knew it would only make things worse. If he remained, her uncle’s temper would only grow, and he would be in danger just like all the others. She had to send Lucian away, even though every part of her longed for the safety he offered.

She slipped free from Sebastian’s grasp and stepped closer to Lucian, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug that was far too familiar for the setting. For a moment, she let herself rest there, drawing strength from the contact. "It was wonderful to see you, Lucian," she said, her words meant more for her uncle than for Lucian himself.

She pressed her cheek to his, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "Go. I’ll be alright. If I need you, I know where to find you. I promise." She knew he deserved more of an explanation, but she couldn’t give it. Not yet. But she would, she silently promised herself she would tell him everything eventually.

She pulled back, her fingers lingering on the rouge stain on his shirt before she retreated toward the shadow of her uncle. She gave him one last brittle, "Just Mina" smile, silently pleading with him to walk away before the mask shattered completely.

His heart sank a little as his ploy fizzled before his eyes. There was no getting her out of this right now. It stung all the more that there was nothing he could do. The look on her face stayed with him, haunting him and he knew it would stay with him the rest of the day. His jaw muscles flexed as he took in a controlled breath, a practice his father had taught him for controlling his emotions.

When she hugged him, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of guilt. Just moments ago, he’d mistaken her for his late wife, kissed her, and was actually debating whisking her away to somewhere private to do much, much more. And now, here she was pleading as if a monster was about to take her away from him, and he couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it. He intentionally did not meet Sebastian’s gaze as his hands gently rested against her back for the time she had embraced him. Stupid weak idiot, he thought to himself.

”The pleasure was all mine, Mina. I’ll let Marina know that you’d like to meet with her for dinner when you’re both available.” He replied cooly, not trusting a response to her whispered comment, not trusting that Sebastian wouldn’t hear it, and not trusting his resolve to keep this civil. He didn’t know what was going on, but if Mina was pleading for his protection, he wanted to find a way to give it to her. Even if it meant returning her to him for the moment.

He nodded briefly to Sebastian, a silent gesture meant to show the older male his respects. ”Good day to you both.” He addressed them, his gaze lingering on Mina for a moment before he spun on his heels. Every movement took effort, and the moment he knew they couldn’t see his face, he allowed it to shift into the expression of anger he’d wished he could have shown before. He was too weak. Far too fucking weak. His fist clenched as he ascended the stairs towards his room and he resisted the urge to punch a wall.

๑ ❝ 𝕮 𝔥 𝔞 𝔯 𝔪 𝔢 𝔡 , 𝕴‘𝔪 𝖘𝔲𝔯𝔢 ❞ ๑ { A Witch’s Tale - RP }

Finnigan "Finn" McKinley

๑ Finnigan "Finn" McKinley ๑

☾ Emotions Are The Enemy ☽

^{aka mastering the art of not giving a fuck.}

۞ Phoenix Witch ۞

❦ Personality & History Description ❦

Finn, unlike his sister, dealt with the violent awakening very, very differently. Where Trish was volatile and angry, Finn shut down. He learned early that emotions were a trigger and did everything he could to kill his. He watched his sister's pain, felt his own, and couldn't take the heat. Trish explodes and Finn dissociates. Trish is a live wire, Finn is a cut cable, wrapped in insulation so thick it barely registers as human anymore. Finn is deeply observant and takes a long time to formulate his thoughts. He's slow to open up to others and rarely allows himself to be put in situations where he might get emotional.

Finn has mastered the art of appearing calm. Not true serenity, not peace, just absence. He doesn't laugh loudly. He speaks softly, slowly, intentionally. He does not get angry. He doesn't ever want anything. Wanting leads to feelings and feelings lead to heat. Heat is the enemy. He mistakes numbness for control and calls it maturity.

Underneath, the fire is still there. Ever present, compressed and gaining pressure. His ignitions don't happen often, but when they do, they are devastating. They are sudden, forced, and eerily silent. No warnings, no flares, just catastrophic release.

❦ Corinthia Initiate ❦

Finn was inducted alongside his sister with much the same rush. However, unlike her, he revels in the structure Corinthia provides. He seeks out praise and critique alike. He asks for very little and gives all that is asked of him. The only time he has been known to explode was when someone insinuated that he wouldn't react, even if Trish died in front of him. Folks have given him a fairly wide berth since then. There's a part of him that likes it that way.

⊱ ⊰

Extras

Extra bits and bobs will go here!

Pines Holler [Not Accepting]

_{Location — #24 Shady Pines Drive - Bedroom}

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Caleb kicked at his sheets, feeling the damp wet sweat against his skin and in his hair. It felt like a damned swamp in his room, like his bed had been thrown into a pond. Suddenly, he laughed, thinking about that one movie where the girls pushed the step mom or whatever into the lake on her air mattress.

The humor of it did little to make him feel less like a swamp monster, though. He let out a low groan, battle waging in his head. Getting up meant being a real person and staying meant continuing to be a swamp monster. Neither particularly appealed to him. He was about to roll over, place his pillow over his head and accept his fate when he felt his phone buzz on the counter.

Eyes half lidded, Caleb reached for his phone without looking, his hand grasping first at a very… very gross tissue before bumping into a bottle of lotion. Another low groan as he finally sat up and realized for the first time that the house was eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you realize the shit running in your house that you got used to was actually kinda fuckin’ loud.

Caleb reached up to his neck and scratched, oil building up in his fingernails. “Fuckin’ gross…” He groaned, as he reached over to grab his phone now that he was up and could look at it. He flicked it unlocked, and muscle memoried his way to his messages.

hey handsome. the power is dead and it’s getting way too hot in this trailer for clothes.

Caleb cocked an eyebrow. ”No fuckin’ kiddin’ Jo.” He mumbled, stretching his toes. He winced as pain bloomed in his knee but kept reading.

think u can play the knight in shining armor and rescue the little princess and myself? willow says huskers generator is going. come save me and i’ll make it worth your while later.

Caleb raised a brow at the last sentence, his mind already getting plenty of ideas. Ideas that might require a cold shower. Luckily, that sounded like all he was gonna get anyhow. He took in a breath and let it out a sigh before stretching out his back and pushing himself off of his bed. His knee was stiff and he hobbled his way over to the absolutely tiny ass bathroom connected to his room. At least he didn’t have to share it.

About an hour and a half later, along with a strong pain pill he’d swiped from his dad while no one was looking, Caleb loaded himself into his truck and drove over to Jo’s, all while her promise of making it worth his while later repeated in his mind.

_{Interacting With — N/A
Mentions — Jolene @Tae}

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Silas Grey

__________________________________________________________ Basic Information __________________________________________________________ • Name | Silas Grey • Nickname(s) | Psyren, Psy, Grey, Ren • Age | Unknown, appears to be in his mid-20s • Gender | Male • Birthday | Unknown • Race | Vampire • Rank/Status | Blooded Appearance __________________________________________________________ [+] • Height | 6'0 • Build | Tall and lanky • Eye Color | Silvery Green/Blue • Hair Color & Style | Naturally black, dyes it silver paired with whatever other color he's feeling that week • Skin Tone | Pale with faint freckles on his face. He typically hides them with makeup. • Notable Marks | Tattoos; Neck, wrist, torso, and back. Variety of styles, sizes, and such. Piercings; Ear (Many) and Snake Bites on his mouth. • Typical Clothing Style | He favors black as foundation, just never plain black.His jackets, usually leather biker cuts, are hand-painted, distressed, and customized by himself. Zippers, snaps, and buckles are everywhere, both functional and ornamental, clinking softly as he moves. He leans towards layered silhouettes, slim black, blood-red, deep purple, pastel pinks and grey splotches. His clothes look thrown together, but deliberate. ✦ 1. ✦ 2. ✦ 3. • Aura/First Impression | Silas is a mystery to many. Intensely charismatic, even without trying, he finds people being drawn to him, pulling people closer with little effort. On stage, he is magnetic. Off-stage, he is quiet and reserved. The lack of information about him leads to rumors and misinformation, none of which he bothers to correct. • Voice | Deep and sultry, Silas' voice is charming in an of itself. He is not much of a talker off-stage, but when he does it is relaxed and laid-back. Relationships __________________________________________________________ [+] • Openness to Friendship (1-5) | 4 • Openness to Romance (1-5) | 3 • Romantic Preferences | People who match his energy • Current Romantic Interests | - • View on Forbidden Relationships | Apathy • Biggest Turn-ons | ✦ Vulnerability ✦ Passion ✦ Confidence • Biggest Turn-offs | ✦ Control/Manipulation ✦ Cruelty ✦ Hypocrisy • Known Friends | N/A • Known Enemies | Magnus • Known Family | N/A

Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Hobbies/Interests | ✦ Music ✦ Art ✦ Fashion • Likes | ✦ The Stage ✦ Performing ✦ Sleep • Dislikes | ✦ Dishonesty ✦ Silence ✦ Vegetables • Fears | ✦ Obscurity ✦ Condemnation ✦ Losing His Hearing • Habits | ✦ Tapping fingers as if playing piano ✦ Mouthing lyrics in his head ✦ biting at his snake bites • Vices | ✦ Avoidance ✦ Self-Destruction ✦ Alcohol/Tobacco Core Motivation Music. Personality Overview Silas Grey carries himself like a man who learned to survive by never standing still. Years on the street taught him to never stay put, emotionally or otherwise. His personality is sharpened by centuries of life, but dulled by lost memories. At his core, his is intensely charismatic, the kind of presence that pulls people closer without much effort. On stage, this manifests as raw magnetism and a voice that sounds like it's confessing sins no one asked to hear. Off stage, he is quieter, more reserved, and deeply observant. It's as if the world is something he prefers to observe before engaging. When he is comfortable with someone, he is more likely to speak, his countenance relaxed and friendly. Silas feels everything almost too sharply. It's why he pretends not to care. Detachment is an armor he can use. He shrugs off praise, deflects intimacy, and treats affection like a dangerous drug. Tempting, addicting, and best handled in moderation. Despite this, Silas is not cruel. He has a quiet moral code, one shaped less by laws and societal standards, and more by personal lines he refuses to cross. He despises exploitation, particularly of the vulnerable, and harbors a visceral hatred for abusers of power. He is protective in subtle ways. He stands between others and danger without comment, offering help framed as indifference, and vanishes before gratitude can be given. This is in stark contrast to his current position. Each small gig he runs, each experiment he is forced to assist in leaves a sour, copper taste in his mouth. His desperation had been used against him and the lines he has crossed can no longer be uncrossed. Still, he rebels in little ways. Romantically, Silas is elusive. He falls slowly, reluctantly, but once he does, it is with a depth that borders on dangerous devotion. He fears commitment as much as he craves it. Anyone who gets close enough can sense it. He listens too intently. Remembers details he pretends not to care about. He pulls away when things get too real. He sabotages and deflects, disappears into his work. He calls it protection, but it's just fear. He may have forgotten who he was, but what he is still remains. An artist who turns pain into sound and calls it music.

Background ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Current Occupation | Lead Singer and Guitarist for AS ABOVE, SO BELOW • Level of Schooling | Unknown, at least GED equivalent • Past Occupations | Unknown • Socioeconomic Status | Wealthy, by any standard • History Summary | Silas' memory starts a relatively long time ago, by human standards. He woke up one day, dressed in rags and on the street, not a penny to his name and no recollection of who he was. He didn't even realize he was a vampire until his hunger first hit him. It came suddenly, a feeling in his gut that twisted and wretched, as if it might eat him from the inside out if he didn't do something about it. He stole food, drinks, anything, but nothing staved off the hunger. The smell of the humans that walked by him made his pulse race. His mind would go blank except for the sound of liquid pumping through their veins. One unlucky girl, stopped, concern written on her face, and offered him a few coin. This was when he snapped, he lunged for her, tugging her into the dark alley and feeding on her until there was no life left in her. When he finished, he looked down at the corpse and nearly wretched. It took several more years of fighting it for Silas to finally come to terms with who he was. By then, he had picked up a few things. A guitar and some more comfortable clothes. He found he had an innate talent for music, his fingers plucking chords with an ease he could only assume came from practice he couldn't remember. His music felt like an old friend, a comforting presence. His music also brought people to him and people meant food. He learned how to stay in the shadows, playing softly enough to lure in one human at a time. It was hard at first, but eventually he could get them to follow them deeper into dark alleys. And eventually, his music would placate them enough where he could feed quietly and without much resistance. It didn't always work the first few times and he killed more than he cared to admit those first few years, but it kept him fed and that was all he needed. One day, several years ago he was approached by a wealthy, and very dangerous man. He introduced himself to Silas as Magnus Corvane and offered him a very tempting deal. Play for him and he would ensure Silas' success. He would set up venues, give Silas a place to stay and record, give him a new name, give him everything he needed to lead a comfortable life. As much as it now pains Silas to admit, he accepted the offer with an eagerness that only rivaled a starving dog. He didn't bother to read the fine print. Not until it was too late. Magnus revealed several months later what his true plans for Silas were. Only after Silas' had had a taste of the life he craved. He became trapped, unable to leave and unwilling to part with his new life as Silas Grey. He was made to host venues, small, private and intimate, where he would play and use his Dominion to placate and allow Magnus' men to feed. It was all in the name of experimentation. Silas never really knew for what, but he had his guesses. Once a venue went so poorly that it ended in a violent bloodbath. Still covered in a wash of human blood, Silas was scolded violently. He was starved for a time and the next time he was called for a venue, there was a new band member, the prior having been replaced with sickening ease. She was a Fae, adept at Dreamweaving. She was going to help temper his powers.

Race-Specific Questions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Race info ▸ Vampires ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Born or Turned? | Turned • Blood Source Preference | Synthetic • Blood Addiction Risk (1-5) | 2 • View on Fae Blood Ban | Apathy • Views on Mortals | Innocent in all of this. • Views on Fae | Intriguing • Views on Lycan | Apathy Miscellaneous ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Theme Song | Bad Omens - The Grey • Favorite Food | Pizza • Favorite Animal(s) | Cats • Favorite Music Genre | Classical/Celtic/Folk • Favorite Haunt | The Underground & The Rusty Halo • Signature Weapon | Music • Preferred Vices | Hard Liquor, Tobacco • Pet Peeve | Talking over music/movies/etc ✦ Clapping Off Beat ✦ Shitty Sound Systems ✦ Anyone touching his instruments without asking ✦ Lying for "his own good" • Guilty Pleasure | Trashy TV ✦ Someone Brushing/playing with his hair ✦ Soft Intimacy ✦ Sleeping Late ✦ Moments of Silence ............................................................ Come throw your heart into the waves Your soul is lost, and still it saves Drink in me and come undone Trade a thousand lives for one Come away, drink it in Drink and sink and let it end Drink and sink and let it end You are no more, you are no less For all must die, all must rest Bring your body unto me Let your graveyard be the sea Come away and drink it in Drink and sink and let it end Drink and sink and let it end - siren song by kiera cass

Have another vampire baddie. LOL.

Just wanted something a little more tame to compliment Noah's insanity. Let me know if anything needs to be changed!

Also, absolutely open to other bandmates, friends, enemies, etc. <3

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Sir Nikolai Dragos Berova
Sir Nikolai Dragos Berova

Time: Early Morning
Location: Berova Estate
Attire: -
Interactions: -

Trigger Warnings:: Blood, Mutilation, Death, General Horror

^{_{___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

He can feel the cold stone of the room beneath his bare feet. The room feels like it’s been blanketed in darkness, threatening to swallow him whole. It makes him feel tiny, insignificant and the air around him is thick and metallic, each breath tasting like rust. It’s a sensation he’s all too familiar with. Blood. The walls of the room glistened in crimson, dripping sickeningly to the cold floor. It’s then that he realized the bodies that surround him. They lie tangled at his feet, pale limbs twisted at impossible angles, face slack in expression. There is a pool of dark crimson that surrounds them. It is slick and reflective. As he moved to look down at his reflection, a sound startled him.

A monster stands just across the room, a limp body in it’s grip.

Its form is vaguely human, familiar, but wrong. Its shaggy dark hair is disheveled and matted with both wet and dried blood. Its arms look proportionally wrong, and he can see that same slick crimson liquid covering its claw-like hands. He noticed, a horrified expression on his face, that the creature’s face was completely blurred in an unnatural way. It was as if someone had taken an eraser and smudged it out.

The monster tilted it’s head at him.

Nik’s heart stuttered, his chest tightening. It wasn’t just fear, no. There was something else there. Something he shuddered to consider.

Recognition.

A sound tore through the room, part growl, part scream. The sound of a creature that had long forgotten mercy. He swears he can hear his name in the depths of the roar. The monster took a step towards him and dropped the body it was holding. Then another.

Run.

The thought hits him too late. The creature lunged at him, screeching. Nikolai spun on his heel and sprinted for the exit, his bare feet barely finding purchase against the blood-soaked floor. He tripped over tools, bodies, but eventually breaks through to the outside. All at once he is outside in the forest. The brush cut at his feet as he ran. Behind him, he heard it. Heavy footsteps, relentless and gaining ground. He can feel its presence at his back, hot and suffocating, like a hand hovering inches from his spine.

He stumbled, tripping over a root. His broke the fall with his hands, but the impact sent painful jolts down his arm.

Cold fingers touched his shoulder. He jolted. The world fractured.

Nikolai jerked awake with a strangled gasp, bolting up in his bed. The sheets are soaked through with his sweat, clinging to his skin. His heart hammered painfully in his chest. Each breath felt like fire, and for a brief moment, he was convinced he could still smell blood. It took him several seconds before he dared to look at his hands and when he does, they’re clean. He let out a sigh, lifting one hand to rub his temple, which was throbbing. After several minutes, he pushed himself up off of the bed, unable to shake the certainty that the monster was familiar to him. He pulled on some clothes and a thick coat and began his walk outside.

Another sleepless night.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Noah Corvane || The Prince Bathed in Blood

__________________________________________________________ originally penned by Helo Basic Information __________________________________________________________ • Name | Noah Beaumont Corvane • Nickname(s) | N/A • Age | 28 • Gender | Male • Birthday | April 9th • Race | Vampire • Rank/Status | Enforcer for the Corvane family & Prince of Halcyon / Vampire Spawn Appearance __________________________________________________________ dreams of greatness • Height | 5'10 • Build | Lean and fit • Eye Color | Cold blue • Hair Color & Style | Deep red, ear length, messy but intentional • Skin Tone | Deathly pale • Notable Marks | Faded scar from a vampire bite • Typical Clothing Style | Dark colors, expensive tailored suits, long dark colored coats, expensive accessories. • Aura/First Impression | Noah is not the type of vampire that draws others in with charm. He’s a predator that sends a shiver down the spine, raises the hairs on the back of one’s neck, and quickens the heart rate. Terror is often the first impression he leaves, especially for humans. Depraved bastard, is a close second. • Voice | Deep, low, and effortlessly predatory…a voice like the hungry growl of a tiger, and even casual comments or pleasantries sound like a threat. Relationships __________________________________________________________ a bad reputation • Openness to Friendship (1-5) | 3 • Openness to Romance (1-5) | 2 • Romantic Preferences | Willing and freaky • Current Romantic Interests Obsession | Wren • View on Forbidden Relationships | Sounds deliciously devious. • Biggest Turn-ons | ✦ Pain ✦ Danger ✦ Power • Biggest Turn-offs | ✦ Monotony ✦ Mercy ✦ Tedium • Known Friends | Locke (Former), TBD • Known Enemies | All Wardens, Werewolves, and enemies of Magnus • Known Family | Magnus (Adoptive Father) & Angel (Twin Sister)

Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Hobbies/Interests | ✦ Hunting ✦ Partying ✦ Work/Business • Likes | ✦ Violence ✦ Brutality ✦ Horror movies • Dislikes | ✦ Silence ✦ Sentiment ✦ Synthetic/Old Blood • Fears | ✦ Failure ✦ Losing his sister ✦ Starvation • Habits | ✦ Restlessness ✦ Fidgeting ✦ Tapping • Vices | ✦ Substance Abuse ✦ Violence ✦ Wren Core Motivation Noah strives to prove himself. To show Magnus that he is everything Magnus saw in him and more. He works tirelessly to secure his place with the family, building their empire to reach new heights, and cultivating his reputation as one of the most ruthless vampires to walk Halcyon’s streets. He's also striving to see that his sister embraces that same legacy they were crafted for. Personality Overview A vicious creature who willingly tears away whatever is left of his humanity. Noah is driven by the desire to become exactly what he was designed to be: a monster. His cruelty is undeniable; anyone he sees as prey, as an enemy, as something weak and deserving of being picked off, inevitably ends up facing things far worse than death. Noah is a cold and empty creature; there is little he “loves” in the world, but nothing quite holds a candle to the ecstasy of suffering. Watching faces contorted with it, dancing to cries of agony, savoring that precious moment when hope dies behind another’s eyes; Noah revels in it. When the pendulum of fate swings, and it is his turn to suffer, he finds only bliss in his pain. Noah has an unnerving intensity, and when set on a task, he becomes completely obsessed with it. Reckless, irreverent, and brash, he draws attention and seeks out thrills. Never static or sluggish, his restless energy keeps him always moving. When he gets bored, he provokes someone, tries to get a rise, does something out of pocket just to see what’ll happen. Untempered rage paired with a love of violence and unyielding strength, his temper is a bomb with a hairpin trigger. He carries a deep sense of entitlement from years spent as the favored pet and surrogate son of one of the city's most dangerous vampires. Near carte blanche to just about whatever he pleases, Noah carries himself with all the arrogance of someone who knows he is backed by the Corvane family. A life devoid of any real consequences, his cruelty has only ever been celebrated and encouraged, and any time something remotely human bubbles up, all it takes is blood to wash himself clean of it. Humanity is useless to him and useless things are disposed of with surgical precision. . . .

Background ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Current Occupation | Mafia Enforcer • Level of Schooling | High School • Past Occupations | Pet • Socioeconomic Status | Filthy rich • History Summary | Noah always tried to be an obedient child, he had to be, his human father had a nasty temper. He figured out how things worked when he was young; behave or earn a beating. Simple. Easy to understand. As long as he did as he was told, things were better. Not perfect, not even good, but better than the alternative. And imperfect enough that Noah felt nothing when a vampire killed his parents. He watched it happen with cold, unflinching eyes. He smiled at the vampire and whispered a simple, quiet thank you. Maybe that’s what sealed his fate. Both saved and damned himself with that one breath. Because that vampire, Magnus, took an interest and saw something of worth. Both he and his twin sister were brought into a new family. One where violence wasn’t kept a hushed secret, one where it was honest, and where Noah was made an active participant. Magnus, the boss of a vampiric mafia, had claimed the siblings as his new pets. His children. He shared with them the gift of eternity. He gave Noah power, strength, and a place at his side. Turned into a vampire as a child, his innocence was replaced with an insatiable bloodlust. A hunger that never calmed with age, instead, it raged and festered. A growing teenager whose appetites were all twisted into a need for blood and violence. He embraced it. Welcomed it. Craved it. In hindsight, maybe that’s what ol’ papa Beaumont saw in a young Noah. That he wasn’t quite right, not in the ways his straight and narrow Warden father expected of him. He always had the mood swings, temper tantrums that tested the man’s limits, compulsive lying, childish attempts at manipulation, and there was that time he nearly burned down the garage… Maybe he knew, maybe he suspected, or maybe he was just another Warden with his self-righteous head stuck up his ass. Good riddance is about all Noah ever has to say about the old man. He got an upgrade when Magnus claimed him as a son. But his twin sister, Angel, didn’t see things the way Noah saw them. She didn’t embrace what they now were, but Noah was a good brother. He was going to help her understand. Anytime Magnus or his minions did anything Angel saw as cruel, Noah subtly made it seem like it was partially her fault. Spun his words to keep her thinking they were both punished because Angel refused to cooperate with the vampires. Noah never saw any of it as a punishment. Not the mind games, not being asked to kill, and certainly not the torture. They were lessons. Magnus was breaking down any lingering weakness so that they could become something better. Stronger. Vampires made in his image. Noah was devoted to the blood-drenched God that had saved him from his sad, meaningless life and offered him the world, everything and anything he could ever want, on a silver platter. Magnus saw worth in him, and Noah remains endlessly loyal to his hero. Noah loved being a vampire; the strength that now flowed through his veins connected him to an ancient power and elevated him to something akin to a demigod. A human life mattered about as much to him as the life of a cow had when he was a child enjoying a burger. Then they mattered even less than that, like the cheap toy that came with a Happy Meal. As time passed, his practicality about their situation grew crueler; something dark and sadistic bloomed in Noah. As he traversed youthful rebellion with his sister and their Fae friend Locke, he kept the darker parts of himself hidden from them. Watched them, paid close attention to everything they said and did so that he could emulate what they wanted. He needed them to like him, keep him included, and maintain their close-knit trio. There is nothing Noah hates more than feeling alone. But that friendship shattered anyway, and Locke left them. Like finding a long-lost brother only to have him abandon them, without a reason, without a goodbye. He could almost admire how well Locke had dug that knife in, made him hurt in a way that mattered. Almost, because the rage he felt at that kind of betrayal only brought out an even more vicious side of him. There was no more restraint after Locke left. He threw himself into the family business and became his father’s enforcer. While there are plenty of vampires willing to maim and kill for the man, it is Noah he sends when he wants to truly send a merciless message, when he needs someone to suffer. He took his rightful place at his father’s side. Fate rewarded him. And no, not just his dagger. When a blood trafficking ring encroached on Magnus’s territory and disrespected the Corvane family; Noah was sent to eliminate the problem. He orchestrated a slaughter still whispered about in dark corners of Halcyon, a message so brutal and final that it still makes rivals question if crossing Magnus so openly is worth the risk. But for once, the slaughter itself was not the reward. Tucked away in a cage not even fit for a dog… was her. A Fae, so otherworldly, so removed from anything ordinary, who welcomed him in almost the same way he had once welcomed Magnus. IV lines tangled around her like oblivion's tendrils, stealing her blood drop by drop, and keeping her in a state constantly on the verge of death. A lithe and fragile little creature who reminded him of that last hopeless breath of the dying. She looked at him without fear and said only a single word. Death. Noah plucked the IV lines as if they were the strings of a harp. As veins wept from where needles had been left for far too long, the scent of her blood had that unmistakable allure. Pure magic. Power yet to be fully unlocked. Strength trapped within a broken shell. He gave her exactly what she asked for: death. A song of blood and violence. Her captors slaughtered, not with brutal efficiency, but as if he, and the vampires with him, were composing his greatest masterpiece. All for her. For his wounded little bird. For Wren. His pet. His. He could see it, the potential of vampire and fae together in perfect harmony. He only had to remake her as he had been remade, into something stronger. Unlock all that buried power. This world was not a place for fragile things. Noah knew that. Bleeding the hope from her was an act of devotion. Hope was the worst cage to be trapped in, and he freed her from it. Just as Magnus had freed him. Noah’s world brightened only to dim again at another betrayal. Worse than Locke’s, when Angel turned her back not just on their family, but on him. Broke the unspoken promise made in the womb that they would always have each other. There is nothing he won’t do to bring her back into the family. He sought out the first person to ever betray him like that; Lachlan Devlin.

Race-Specific Questions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Race info ▸ Vampires ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Born or Turned? | Turned • Blood Source Preference | Fresh, hunted himself. Finds the blood of victims hunted by others to be dirty. • Blood Addiction Risk (1-5) | 4.5 • View on Fae Blood Ban | Unconcerned • Views on Mortals | Cattle • Views on Fae | Impressive • Views on Lycan | Filthy mutts Miscellaneous ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Theme Song | Horror Show - Animal Sun, Fuller (Pending if I find one I like better) • Favorite Food | Blood • Favorite Animal(s) | Frightened Humans • Favorite Music Genre | Anything loud, angry, and horny • Favorite Haunt | Red Widow, The Black Spire, The Eclipse, The Velvet Bite • Signature Weapon | "Fate" - An ornate, decorated daggered. Used on victims he has an especially fun time with. • Preferred Vices | All of them • Pet Peeve | Preachy, self-righteous types • Guilty Pleasure | Noah doesn’t believe in guilt, but he does have a soft spot for other apex predators and animals that tend to elicit a fear response in humans. A love of violent movies but the horror genre it his favorite, he finds them inspiring. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ -✦- ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ambition is not a dirty word. Piss on compromise. Go for the throat. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ -✦-

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🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lucian & Marina

Location: The Gossamer
Mentions: @Oso Kilian @Tae Torvi

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Marina adjusted her view through the binoculars just in time to land on Kilian’s face—staring straight back at her, his intimidating expression filling the entire little sphere of her vision like he was standing right before her, glaring her down with those terrifying eyes of his.

Her fingers clumsily loosened as adrenaline coursed through her, and the opera glasses slipped. They struck the edge of the table with a loud clack, and the jolt set off a whole chain reaction: a fork skittering into a spoon, the spoon into a knife, the knife tapping a champagne flute that chimed loudly, garnering attention at the worst possible time. Marina lunged in a panic to collect them, palms sweeping and grabbing, trying to catch everything at once. Her hand closed around the opera glasses just before they hit the floor, but she still managed to knock a napkin loose and nearly flip her own plate.

It was then, with her heartbeat thundering loudly in her ears, that she saw Lucian rise.

He began crossing the room, just like he had when she had angered him all those times in the past. He was making a beeline for her, and in that moment Marina felt a flash of disbelief.

Marina snatched the opera glasses with one hand and shoved them beneath the table so quickly she clipped her knee and bit back a hiss. She hastily straightened, smoothing her coat, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. By the time Lucian reached her table, she had gathered herself into a posture of indignant dignity: the sort of expression that suggested she had been minding her business all evening and anyone who implied otherwise was so wrong.

When he leaned toward her, Marina met him with a stare that could have started a war. She allowed her lips to lift into a pleasant expression. “Good evening,” she said sweetly in an exaggerated, low tone. “Sir.”

Then Lucian leaned in, and Marina’s smile held even as it tightened. Her pupils flared, her gaze flicking past his shoulder toward the table behind the velvet rope. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” she lied instantly. “I’m simply a humble gentleman enjoying the ambiance. Who is this Marina you speak of? I’m… uh… Marvin.” The name left her mouth, and she wanted to throw herself into the nearest fountain.

Lucian felt his eye twitch at her response. Of course she was keeping this up, of course. Of course!

The lie lasted exactly as long as it took her to see what was happening behind him in her mind again: the chain, the blindfold, the scary guy, the giant wolf. Then Marina’s countenance went flat—seriousness overtaking the look in her gaze. She exhaled once, then gave up the performance with reluctant honesty. “Yes, yes, it’s me,” she admitted quietly, the mustache suddenly feeling ridiculous. Her gaze snapped back to Lucian’s, and for all her theatrical bravado, there was a sincere intensity in her violet eyes now. “But let’s be honest—the one who should be questioned here is you. Why are you meeting with those weird people? ” Her voice softened, fear slipping into her tone as she searched his face. She then tipped her chin toward the roped section—toward Kilian. “I mean, come on, that guy has a woman in chains.”

Her expression softened into a small frown as she told him lowly, “...You’re scaring me, Lucian.”

He paused as she dropped the act, suddenly more serious than before. He could tell that what he was doing right now was bothering her. All the more because she didn’t understand it. He let out a soft, exasperated sigh. He could understand her concerns and valued her opinions and care for him. He just… couldn’t let her get involved in this.

”Marnie…” He started, unsure how he could give her any peace of mind. Another soft breath left his lungs as he reached a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. ”Do you trust me, Marina?” He asked earnestly. He looked over her face, trying to show her his sincerity.

Marina’s brows lifted as if the question itself had offended her. Then, after the briefest pause, her eyes found his and stayed there. “Of course I do.” She answered sincerely.

”Then, I need you to trust me right now.” He returned. He reached over to offer her his hand. ”I know it looks scary over there. If I’m being honest with you, I’m a little scared too.” He explained, conveniently leaving out the part where he was somewhat enjoying the girl in chains at Kilian’s side, if only because he couldn’t help but to overlap her with the people who killed his wife.

”I have my reasons, Marina. And I’d rather keep you out of it and safe if I can…” He added softly, a tenderness to his tone now.

She took his hand and squeezed it, chewing at the inside of her lip for additional comfort. Marina let his words settle in her mind before letting those brows of hers furrow suddenly with the immovable determination. “I trust you,” Marina repeated, stressing the word in a way that clarified her feelings even before she finished her point, “Not them.”

Then she let go and leaned back, folding her arms like she could physically block him from trying to push her away. “I won’t tell anyone anything. I don’t even care what you’re doing or why—” she started, and even she couldn’t keep a straight face through that lie. A sigh cut her words off and she corrected herself with annoyed honesty, “Okay, maybe I do. I’m quite nosy.” She waved off the notion hastily, bouncing her leg like the energy in her body was looking for somewhere to go. “However, I digress.”

Lucian stifled a chuckle at her relenting to being quite nosy, but let her continue.

“I am here because I don’t want you to be alone “ Marina’s bouncing leg slowed then stilled. “I know you’ve been sneaking off doing something for a while now, so…” Her chin lifted, like she’d already decided how this ended. “Whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re fighting—let me fight with you.”

Lucian let out a low groan, ”It’s dangerous work, Marina. And as much as I want you by my side, I’d rather have you somewhere safe instead.”

“But it’s dangerous for you too!” Marina exclaimed in protest.

He let out a breath of air, his eyes closing for a moment. He swallowed, his throat thick with regrets. He couldn’t let Marina get hurt too, couldn’t let this touch the people he cared about. He had lost too much to relent on this now. His fist clenched against the chair as he made up his mind.

”I’m not going to argue this, Marina. You need to leave.” He declared firmly, standing up. He waved a waiter over. ”Please escort this gentleman out of the building. Ensure that he is sent home by carriage.” He told him, being sure to place emphasis on the ‘by carriage’ part. He didn’t need her sneaking back in. He watched the waiter expectantly.

”Oh, y-” He started, ”Yessir.”

Marina stood up, her fists clenched with anger. “My meal hasn’t come yet.” She retorted as her face fell into a frustrated pout. After some deliberation, she suddenly ripped the mustache off her upper lip, proceeded to throw it on the floor, and then planted her foot on it. She ground the mustache into the marble flooring, her heel shifting back and forth as if she were squishing a stubborn little bug.

Lucian stared in stunned silence. His gaze shifting from his sister to the waiter, who was just as shocked as he was, if not more. He thought he heard him mumble something about a very convincing disguise.

Her gaze slid back up to the waiter, and she smiled innocently at him. “I am not a gentleman; I am clearly a lady. He must be referring to someone else.” Marina curtly informed the man, then jabbed a finger accusingly in Kilian’s direction. “He’s talking about that tall man with the scars over there. Remove him at once!”

Another long sigh escaped Lucian’s lips. He grabbed at Marina’s wrist, the one attached to the finger currently pointed at the most dangerous man in the room. “While I pride myself on my sister’s bravery, please do not insult my host.” He told her through a clenched jaw.

He put a smile on his face and turned to the rather frightened-looking waiter. It was better not to make a scene. “I apologize. We’ve inconvenienced you. You are dismissed.” He spoke, his voice upsettingly calm for the situation they were in.

The waiter left all too eagerly, still mumbling something about crazy royals.

Lucian turned now to look at his sister, his hand still around her wrist, his grip tight. “If I promise to tell you later, will you go home?” He asked, a defeated tone to his voice. He knew the answer, but he had to try.

Marina’s expression shifted. The bravado didn’t vanish, but it wavered. She held his gaze, her eyes searching his again as if she could keep him safe just by looking hard enough. “I’m strong, Lucian, you know,” she insisted, the words rushing out as if she could make them true by sheer force. “I’ve been practicing.”

Lucian let out a soft breath, unsure entirely what to say to that. He knew she was strong, all of his siblings were. How could he impress upon her the fear and anxiety in his own heart? How much he needed her to be safe? How much losing her would shatter him?

And then her mouth pressed into a line. She bit her lip, and the fiery girl who’d stomped on her own mustache a moment ago did something gentle instead: she lifted her free hand and laid her palm over his with a tender touch as if she was trying to remind him she was real, here, and not some problem to be managed.

He looked down at the touch, before looking back up to her face. It was a stark contrast to the way she’d been acting only a moment prior.

Her eyes dropped as she retreated into her thoughts, then rose back up to his face, somber in a way that made her seem suddenly younger.

“How do I know they won’t hurt you?” she asked at last, her voice softer—but still stubborn as ever.

Lucian took in another deep breath. He was done making promises he couldn’t keep, he’d made that vow to Ambrose and he intended to keep it. Even if it killed him.

”They are going to help me keep you and all of our people safe, Marina. I know they look scary, I’m scared too. But this is something I have to do.” He explained, turning his hand up to hold hers. “I can’t promise they won’t hurt me anymore than I can anyone else here in this room. What I can promise you, however, is that what they do will protect the people I care about.”

After a moment, looking at her face, Lucian bent down, resting his forehead against the back of her hand. ”I can’t… lose anyone else…” He whispered, his voice strained with emotion.

And it was in that moment that something in her face shifted, and her shoulders slumped as if they finally remembered they were exhausted. For a moment, she just stared down at that red head of hair. Then, she wrapped her arms around him and moved her hand to stroke his hair. “I don’t want to lose anyone else either, Lucy, especially you.” She whispered, her gaze reaching a manner of hollowness as she fixated past him on a spot on the wall at random.

The face that had materialized in both of their minds did not need to be named aloud in that moment—they both knew.

“...And it’s because of that, I don’t understand why you think you need to do this alone.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she pulled back just enough, her hand still on his head. “They’re my people too, and you’re my big brother… I feel safest with you. … Not away.”

He felt his heart twist at her words. He knew they were honest, but he knew what kind of danger he was putting himself in. After an incredibly long pause, Lucian lifted his head, a stern look on his face.

”Okay. You listen to me and when I tell you to do something, you do it. That is the only way I am going to let you join me over there with them.”

Marina pursed her lips then said at last, “Fine.”