KZOMBI3 — Roleplayer Guild

Last Seen: 4 days ago
Joined: 6 yrs ago
Posts: 395 (0.19 / day)
VMs: 7
Username history
1. KZOMBI3 6 yrs ago
Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago

Current descension a god roleplay is open again for new members! join the side of the immortals roleplayerguild.com/topics/…

2 yrs ago

go down on my thoughts

4 likes

2 yrs ago

LOKDIN IS BACK BABYYYYY

3 likes

2 yrs ago

vinny gambini is my spirit animal

3 likes

2 yrs ago

propane and propane accessories bender

3 likes

Bio

∘ ｅｎｆｐ－ｔ ∘ ｃａｐｒｉｃｏｒｎ ∘ ｓｌｙｔｈｅｒｉｎ ∘ 
ｙｅｅ ∘ ｙｏｕｒ ∘ ｈａｗｗ
∘ ｚ ∘ ａｎｃｉｅｎｔ ∘ ｚｏｍｂｉｅ ∘

Most Recent Posts

In 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟ → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

𝖇𝖊𝖘𝖙  𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖉  𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖘 
 𝖇𝖊𝖘𝖙  𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖉  𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖘 

location: ???
interactions: Atlas & Medusa | Apollo & Artemis@smarty0114 
mentions: Tsukuyomi@Fabricant451 

It had been days since the incident at the Olympic Club. Both of them, as the other divines came to find out. Most of it had been swept under the rug in regards to the mortal populace, but there was only so much that could be kept quiet when dealing with the other gods.

Ares’ sudden disappearance had the others on high alert. Even caused for the most unlikely of beings to come together to locate him. What did that mean for those who weren’t born of war? Could they even pretend to be skilled enough to protect themselves? Were these fiends targeting only the Greeks? Were the other pantheons safe? Or was it only a matter of time before they too were singled out and made into a chalk outline somewhere in the streets of Seattle?

⋊⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋉

Seattle was filled with hiding places. Overflowing with them, even. Of course, it was easy to hide when no one knew what they were looking for, and until a few nights ago, very few outsiders had ever known of the group that skulked beneath the city.

Of course, the headquarters of this wicked band of immortals was not one of sewage water and filth. It was a lavishly decorated bunker, protected by steel walls and layers of concrete, hidden away by an unnecessary amount of security measures. As far as hidey holes went, it was quite a nice one.

Medusa had grown sick of hiding. She had been hiding all her life, first from bold men and their swords, then from hunters, and now from the very gods who’d cursed her in the first place. The revenge she’d nurtured was beginning to grow ripe, so ripe she could taste its sweetness on her tongue. 

“‘Dusa,” Atlas’ voice stirred her from her thoughts, “you’ve got a new job.” The titan sat down across from her, crossing his legs at the knee. 

“Oh? Need me to run backup again?” Medusa’s eyes ran up Atlas’ frame, and she smiled as he seemed to shiver. Even the great titan who held up the sky was afraid of her. Her and her eyes. 

“No, this one's for you, and you alone. Cronus knows how much you love your goddesses. This one’s not a toy though. We want her.” Atlas produced a file from a jacket pocket and handed it off. Medusa opened it, flipping through the pages with a lazy nonchalance.

“Tsukuyomi. Interesting choice. What makes you think she’ll take the bait,” Medusa said, eyes now focused on the file in her hands.

“She wants her wife back. And she’ll do anything to reach her. She’ll see things our way, I have faith.”

“And what do I offer her besides? Power, and safety in the new world? This pantheon Cronus is building is growing awfully cumbersome.”

Atlas, ever the zealot, scowled. “It is not for you to question Cronus’ plans, witch. You do as you're told.”

Medusa’s gaze returned to Atlas, landing on his throat, and her eyes flashed a brilliant golden color. Suddenly, the titan’s neck was stone. He made an attempt to choke out words, but they would not come. He clawed at the marble that now made up his airways, and found no purchase. “You forget yourself, Atlas. I joined this cause willingly, and for it, Cronus empowered me. I am slave to no god, nor titan.”

The titan scowled, and Medusa’s eyes flashed, and his neck returned to divine flesh. “Apologies. I assure you, Tsukuyomi’s involvement will not lessen your power here.”

Medusa stood. [color=87a96]“Oh, I’m sure it won’t. I’m much more useful than you, Atlas. Keep that in mind.”[/color]

⋊⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋈⋉

Artemis had always thought that the air at Moon River felt fresher. Even all those years ago, when she’d found it long before the mortals had, she’d thought it crisper. It made for better walks and better moods, and it certainly made it all that more enjoyable to see Apollo waiting on the edge of the property, surrounded by her girls and stripped down to his underwear.

“Is this really necessary?” her brother shouted out at her, as she strode up. His clothes were lying on the ground, turned inside out by the guards, who held him hostage with sharp knives and sharper eyes. This scene was not alien to either sibling. Often Apollo demanded her attention, and often she responded like this. Like any sister, she did not appreciate having Apollo in her room. 

Artemis took a moment to laugh, a light, breezy chuckle. “No, probably not, but it’s quite entertaining.”” The goddess clapped, and the girls fell back. “Leave me, girls.” The guards turned and set out towards the compound, though not before leveling scowls at Apollo. “I thought I told you not to come here.”

Her brother shrugged. “You did. But, I’ve-” He looked down at his clothes, then back at her. “Can I put on my clothes?” She smirked and nodded. “As I was saying… I’ve had some time to think about it, and I think you’re right.”

Artemis knit her eyebrows together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“We should have a family meeting. To, you know, talk about our favorite, broody and devastatingly lethal brother’s recent disappearance.”

“‘Pollo, that wasn’t my idea.”

“No, but you can take all the credit if it goes wrong. And if it goes right, well, hey, I’ll let you take half credit.” Apollo slung his arm around his sister's shoulder, gesturing dramatically at empty air. “Come on, family dinner, for old time’s sake. And, also, because I’ve thought about it, and I don’t very much want to die.”

“You’re about to ask me to be nice to father, aren’t you?” Artemis did not need to be looking at her brother to know that his crazed grin had just fallen. 

“Yes. Of course I am.” Apollo released his hold and looked at her, a rare sincerity in his eyes. “I wrote some stuff last night, Arty. I’ve been trying to pay more attention to it, ever since Zagreus. It was… dark to say the least.” Apollo said, holding his hand to his heart like a boy scout pledging allegiance. 

Artemis bit down on her bottom lip, worry breaking through her mask of calm. “How dark? Could this be like that time you thought all the computers were gonna shut off?”

Apollo scowled. “I wrote about a man who dropped the sky, Arty. Who does that sound like to you?”

For once, Artemis was taken by surprise, if only for a moment. “Set it up at Father’s place then. Tonight. I’ll make some calls.”

In ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙  𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕  𝖘𝖜𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌
𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙  𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕  𝖘𝖜𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Hemlock Dorms
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Callen Warren 
Lorelei knew as soon as she woke up that morning that she was going to be late. Did that stop her from taking a refreshing morning swim around the cove of Rothwick? Absolutely not. The Galanis girl woke with the sun and hopped straight into the frigid waters, scales appearing along her skin, tail forming where there had been two legs not but moments ago. It was bliss. Her true nature calling to her in a way that only water could. It was cruel to expect her to be on land for so long. "It scares the mortals" or some such bullshit.

They seemed to be just fine last she checked. Well, not actually checking on them. But they remained in the town willingly. Knowing that there is an academy for creatures like herself. So, they must be fine with it. Right?

As the morning dragged on she was reminded of what the day was to bring and rushed to grab her things before heading up to the school. The weather turned dour the closer she got to the gates of the academy, large drops of rain soaking her clothes making her scales crop up along the exposed skin of her arms. The sightings of Seekers strategically pacing the grounds only seemed to make the hairs on back of her neck stand on end. 'Wonder if it has anything to do with disappearance Mrs. McKay were talkin' about...'. She would have asked more questions of the baker had she had the time, but she was late already and didn't stay long enough to chat with the elderly woman in town.

Lightwood's commencement speech had long been completed by the time she stumbled through the open doors. Students milled about, the new and the old. The siren spotted Callen with her legs kicked up in front of the dorm listings, papers strewn about the table as she helped the newbies find their bearings. Zeke must've put her in charge of things again. There was something going on between those two, though she figured the she-wolf wouldn't be too pleased to hear that theory anytime soon. She couldn't resist a wild grin as she waved her down before taking her drenched self up to Hemlock to drop her bags off. And possibly sit in front of one of the fires for a bit to toss the chill off of her.

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

In ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊 𝖌𝖔 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓
𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊 𝖌𝖔 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Nightshade Dorms
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Phoibe Graves |  Caleb Valentine | Charlie Valentine @Danvers

"Excellent. Just what we needed. Seekers," It was bad enough that the new school year brought with it a sense of lackluster that could only be found when throwing a hodgepodge of races together like Hawthorne did, but now there was the added benefit of being under a careful eye. More than what was already in place. Ophelia wasn't one to sneer in the faces of top notch security, but this was different. Something in the air screamed of lies piled high atop one another. It was only a matter of time before someone heard them.

Her dark eyes flickered off in the direction of a one Ms. Graves, 'If someone where to dig up anything it would be that one... Of all the students attending, Phi knew right away that the middle Graves child was one to be weary of. A false sense of security does not bode well when dealing with her. Though, she didn't pose the vampire any true harm, it wouldn't do her any favors to tread lightly with that one.

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

In what felt like an instant she found herself once more wandering the Nightshade halls. A blessing to be given their own area than having to slum it with the others. Pity to the ones who have to share Hemlock with the were-beasts. But, it is the natural order of things. Some just aren't worthy. Would have been insulting to think that just anyone could attend and be on the same leveling field as those that rule the night sky. A ruckus from one of the windows pulled her attention back to the present and she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes in disdain.

The Valentine twins. Ah, yes. A prime example of those who aren't worthy yet try to fit the mold. 'Ugh. They're just as bad,' she remembers thinking to herself, catching the tail end of their prank. They had some sort of falling out with one of the wolf girls; a pretty nasty one too if remembered correctly. A blessing in disguise really. They would have just brought the Valentine name into the ground should that friendship have kept up. What is it that others see in them? Their friendly nature? Pfft. If she thought more on it an answer might have presented itself, but that would require her to give too much of her already long life to something she didn't particularly care for. No. Instead Ophelia waltzed through the commons towards one of the many balconies, her vintage cigarette tin already in hand. Now she just needed a light.

In ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

 𝖗 𝖊 𝖙 𝖚 𝖗 𝖓 𝖊 𝖉
𝖗 𝖊 𝖙 𝖚 𝖗 𝖓 𝖊 𝖉

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Hawthorne
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 

It wasn't as bright and cheery a day as Callen would have liked, but what was to be expected when the grounds around the academy are meant to be inclusive to even the vampires attending? With a heavy sigh she had marched in through the doors, waving erratically to all the familiar returning faces and even offering a solid pat to the arm or back to the newbies shuffling along. It wasn't going to be terrible, she reminded herself. It was a new year. Another start. Everything from before would just... wash away. Like it never happened. Yeah. That's right. 

Everything would fall into place.

"If I don't wanna see 'em, then I won't. Manifest that shit, Cal. Manifest it!" Her pep-talk could only go so far when she turned to look back up before her and spotted the backs of two very familiar heads. With an indignant squeak she dipped and dodged into the nearest row of seats to avoid getting too close. So much for it never happened.

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

With the headmaster's speech out of the way Callen found herself bolting up and outta her seat as quick as she could. Not necessarily to avoid the twins - though that was entirely what it was about - but because Ezekiel Wolf had volunteered her for showing the young cubs around the grounds and offering to help them with whatever they needed. "Yeah, yeah just great. No, don't mind me," the redhead snorted to herself as she made her way through the throng of students milling about, "No, no. No reason to ask me if I wanted to help. Lemme just do it all for ya, oh fearless leader of ours. Ughhh so much for self proclaimed leader..." she grumbled to herself taking a seat behind the set up placed in the foyer next to the dormitory listings. 

'Gets me outta havin' to see them for a bit at least.'

In ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

_______________________________________________

𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖎 「 lore 」 𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖘   |  pansexual  |   #92f8a3  |  𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓  
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧  

𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖊  |  female  |  5'7"  | 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵   
Magnetic ☀ Gregarious ☀ Boisterous ☀ Revelrous ☀ Charismatic ☀ Crow Brained 
Chaotic ☁ Capricious ☁ Voracious ☁ Indulgent ☁ Emotional ☁ Disorganized
▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ 

✦ vinyl records ✦ collecting things ✦ change ✦ trying new things ✦ making playlists ✦ doing things ✦ upbeat atmospheres ✦ breakfast sandwiches ✦ paranormal shows ✦ electric swing ✦ snakes ✦ mythology ✦ deep poetry ✦ summer nights ✦ festivals & concerts ✦ prefers movies over books ✦ pet names and cliches ✦ jumping in puddles ✦ puzzles ✦ 

✦ itchy scales and dry skin ✦ abusers ✦ cake decorating ✦ day time TV ✦ boredom ✦ speed dating ✦ a constant state of blah ✦ things becoming too mainstream ✦ losing out on individuality ✦ not being there for her friends ✦ feeling inadequate ✦ cleaning dishes ✦ being too serious ✦ new car smells ✦ headaches ✦ sun burns ✦ buzz kills ✦ manipulation techniques ✦ feeling helpless ✦ 

 s k í l l s  &  w є α k n є s s є s 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

➽➽➽ Merfolk Being a siren allows Lore to swim at high speeds, cutting through the water with ease. This also applies to being able to dwell underwater for extended periods of time. Breathing, speaking and seeing underwater is a huge boon when traversing the world via water. Lore excels at water based sports and is a master in the water; feeling most at home in baths, lakes, rivers, the sea etc. Stick her in the fountain and see her happy as a lark.
➽➽➽ Siren Call Lorelei can sing beautifully, it's in her blood. Though there is a certain tone, tune or string of lyrics thrown together that can be used to lure anyone who hears it to do as the singer requests or orders. Still being in the young stages of her siren-hood, Lore can only use this on one person at a time. Still, one is better than none.
➽➽➽ Crow Brained She is extremely ADHD in the sense that many things catch her eye. Especially if they are of the unique or shiny variety. Because of this she embodies Disney's Ariel and her treasure seeking ways. Having always gone off when she wasn't supposed to in order to find new and exciting things. Whether sunk to the bottoms of the sea or on land amongst the mortals.

➽➽➽ Dry Scales If she doesn't moisturize, or emerse herself in water - fairly often - Lore will develop dry patches along her body (mainly on the sides of her thighs, her neck and her wrists). These dry patches resemble her scales in a very agitated state and it is quite uncomfortable for her. She tends to stay away from anything that would over dry her skin such as hand sanitizers and other cleaning products.
➽➽➽ Distracted Lorelei is very much scatterbrained and therefore drifts in and out of daydreams; especially when on land. Some professors have resulted into having a tank or a trough in the back of the room just for her to lounge in and pay better attention. she works best with extrinsic motivations. Things that she is interested in, she will focus on. It's everything else that's a struggle.
➽➽➽ Careless She doesn't mean to put people under her powers, but it happens sometimes. More than she would ever like to admit. Humming in the showers or while on walks around town. While shopping or swimming or just in class bored outta her mind. It happens and she doesn't mean nothing by it. It might be a bigger problem than she realizes.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘
not a lot is known about the werewolves from the siren community. only that they were taught to swim as far away from them as possible if ever to come across one. especially those of the feline persuasion. they enjoy fish and fish-like creatures, so it's best not to become too friendly with those who would enjoy sinking their claws and teeth into them. Lore was taught and grew up believing them to be backwards and brutish. though her years at Hawthorne seem to contradict that, and she's enjoyed meeting some of the werewolves she has. would even consider them friends. 

𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘
beautiful, ethereal. immortal beings that are not unlike her own kind. at least that's what she's heard around the school. well, not in so many words - but she can see the similarities. though she is probably the most weary of them due to their long lifespans and how they can swoop in and out of someone's vision the same way sirens can swim distances quickly. almost as if by teleportation. there is something off about vampires that just... get under her scales. but she likes to keep an open mind.

𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖐
probably the most enigmatic of the races at the school. or at least of the ones she's met. Lore likes 'em well enough. it is a bit hard not to tempt them into doing anything really. they're still mortals after all. but they aren't too bad in her opinion. still much they have to learn about the others of the world, but isn't that the case for all in attendance at Hawthorne?

𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘
it's hard not to lump them into the category of food and livability. but that is what she sees them as. thanks to generations long ideals that were passed down through the communities and families. but Lore would be remiss to say that she doesn't enjoy learning from them. they have so many ideas - good and bad - but ideas that are new and fresh nonetheless. and what Lore enjoys most is learning. who better to learn from than someone you would least expect? though she is tempted constantly with trying to lure them into the waters surrounding the town and school.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ travel the world. there hasn't really been another ambition other than that. but she has many years to decide on this. for now, she is content to just swim, swim, swim.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ drowning. surprisingly. being torn limb from limb by someone she thinks of as a close friend.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
A doting daughter. One of many of the Galanis clan.
Until she wasn't.

It was hard to keep a leash on her, though that wasn't what the family was about. They were supportive in her yearning to learn all there was about anything. They made no illusions to the upside of the world and would visit the surface - as a family - regularly. To show and teach their children what was safe and what was not. All in all it was a very formative time of her life.

However, there was a lot to the Sirens legacy that was a lot more than singing songs and swimming around freely. And Lorelei came to this realization a lot sooner than others thought she would. And they believed that she would be one to join in on the fun. Luring men and women alike into their clutches, dragging them into the water, holding them under before letting them go. Never truly breaking the laws set in place against killing mortals - though that wouldn't stop all that dwelled within the community. Some of her family members partook in such offenses. It was hard for Lore to see the benefit in it all. But went along with it until she couldn't anymore.

Not an easy thing to leave home so young. She didn't want to be a monster. The monster that the mortals make them out to be and yet that is exactly what it was she was. At least under the tutelage of her family. It was blessing she was able to get away. Staying clear away from the warmth of the Greek waters she called home. Eventually her travels lead her to the waters surrounding Scotland, and once she was old enough, Hawthorne Academy called to her; not unlike her own call. And she has been there ever since.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

✦ handwritten notes ✦ daydreaming ✦ creating personal worlds ✦ positive vibes ✦ playlists for every occasion ✦ scales on her legs ✦ handfuls of flowers ✦ ripped jeans ✦ loud print ✦ lofty grins ✦ singing in the shower ✦ a little broken ✦ bright eyes like sapphires ✦ tangled cords ✦ peace signs ✦ bass thumping ✦ sweat ✦ smell of salt water ✦ little tattoos ✦ messy but lovable ✦ the bustling of a large family ✦ clear skies ✦ counting down to the weekend ✦ distant gazes ✦ twinkling laughter ✦ selfless love (agape) ✦ summer nights ✦ long lasting friendships ✦ swimming for hours regardless of the temperature ✦ 

✦ not sure how but shows up everywhere ✦ responds to everything with peace signs ✦ soft, mellow music when things get too heavy ✦ always asks how your day was ✦ wears a lot of jewelry ✦ eccentric & eclectic style ✦ thrift shopping ✦ stays up so late it's morning ✦ lethargic during the day and wired at night ✦ sees past appearances ✦ gets lost in thought ✦ procrastinates ✦ endings and new beginnings ✦ disappears at random times ✦ fount of random knowledge ✦ light handwriting ✦ always tries to be happy for everyone else's sake over hers ✦ wants to be selfish ✦ smiling at strangers ✦ making promises ✦ running barefoot ✦ crowns made out of seashells and driftwood ✦ unearthed potential ✦ peculiar clothing choices ✦ 

𝖘 𝖈 𝖗 𝖞   𝖆 𝖇 𝖔 𝖚 𝖙   𝖎 𝖙

_______________________________________________

𝖕𝖍𝖔𝖎𝖇𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘  |  𝔟𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩  |   #ca82a4  |  𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍  
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧  

𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢  |  ♀️  |  5'3"  |  𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵   
☀ Ambitious  |  Tenacious  |  Vivacious  |  Confident  |  Gregarious  |  Spontaneous  |  Poised
☁ Self Centered  |  Voracious  |  Overcritical  |  Vain  |  Dramatic  |  Pompous  |  Promiscuous
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ 

⚬ snakes ⚬ soft glow lights ⚬ late night conversations ⚬ sexual tension ⚬ concertos ⚬ going out ⚬ jazz and swing music ⚬ giving gifts ⚬ cooking ⚬ thunderstorms ⚬ smell of coffee ⚬ trying new things ⚬ reading before bed ⚬ dressing up ⚬ midnight snacks ⚬ going to the beach ⚬ stargazing ⚬ shades of copper ⚬ sour candy ⚬ mystery books ⚬ messy vanities ⚬ bubble baths ⚬ silk sheets ⚬ stray cats ⚬ being creative ⚬ gossip columns & blackmail ⚬

⚬ feeling rushed ⚬ snowstorms ⚬ being stuck at home ⚬ family drama ⚬ having nothing to wear ⚬ disappointing people ⚬ feeling alone ⚬ tight spaces ⚬ feeling uninspired ⚬ sad movies ⚬ worrying about who is watching ⚬ delays ⚬ cheap liquor ⚬ knock off brands ⚬ insects ⚬ being forced to do anything ⚬ the idea of a 9-5 job ⚬ bland food ⚬ slow paced anything ⚬ parameters and limits ⚬ people who smack their food ⚬ strings snapping ⚬ things out of tune ⚬

 s k í l l s  &  w є α k n є s s є s 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

 ➽➽➽➽ Scrying As well as other magic associated with reflective surfaces; Phoibe has learned to be able to commune as well as observe the goings on on the other side. She uses this information for her own personal benefits.
 ➽➽➽➽ Adroit Phoibe is well-learned and takes pride in the knowledge she has gained over the span of her life. Whether it comes to her intelligence in mundane things or with her magic, she is skilled in all areas. A jack of all trades, master of none.
 ➽➽➽➽ Eidolic She isn't invisible to others, on the contrary, Phoibe wouldn't be able to NOT be seen. Though she does have a way of collecting information and secrets in such a way that you would think she's hidden in plain sight. Unusual really. Always picking up new bits of information, she isn't one to show her full hand all the time. Instead liking to hold back before making a move. 
 ➽➽➽➽ Spirit Depending on what it is that Phoibe has shown interest in, she has an abundance of "spirit" for it. Which is just a nicer way of saying she is an obsessed fangirl. Whether it's a school couple, a new article of clothing or a juicy piece of information you can bet she is there with all the details. All while posting it online for others to enjoy as well. It gets her into trouble, that's for sure.

 ➽➽➽➽ Restless She doesn't like listening to people talk for longer than a few minutes so she interrupts all the damn time, stops paying attention, gets restless or just walks away completely. Doesn't help that she does this in class as well.
 ➽➽➽➽ Displeasure Patience is a virtue one she toes the line with. Especially when it comes to the flea bags and bloodsuckers of the world...
 ➽➽➽➽ Pride and Prejudice Phoibe holds a lofty opinion of herself and rarely admits to being wrong. Even moreso when it has to do with her family and their extensive and pureblood-esque heritage.
 ➽➽➽➽ Tritanopia A type of blue-yellow color blindness. It doesn't really affect her day to day unless she's needed to distinguish colors that she struggles with. Green–blue, yellow–pink and purple–red.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
⚬ Concerts In Remote Locations ⚬ Trips back home to Visit Family ⚬ Shots of Tequila For The Fun of It ⚬ Gossiping ⚬ Tangled Necklaces ⚬ Lipstick Marks ⚬ Winged Eyeliner ⚬ Lust for Power ⚬ Careful Manipulation ⚬ Windswept Hair ⚬ Over Indulgence in Comfort ⚬ Minimalist Fashion ⚬ Foggy Sunlight ⚬ Naming Constellations ⚬ Everything in its Place ⚬ Guilty Vices ⚬ Bad Decisions ⚬ Lit Cigarette ⚬ Hot Espresso ⚬ Sharp Thorns ⚬ Cherry Bomb ⚬ Candle Lit Dinners ⚬ Broken Promises ⚬ Soft Pillows ⚬ Rose Petal Bubble Baths ⚬ Natural Sunlight ⚬ Thick Forests ⚬

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
⚬ She loves the smell of freshly peeled tangerines ⚬ Can do no wrong but does wrong ⚬ Hides emotions behind a sarcastic smirk ⚬ No patience for those that waste her time or anyone without a spine. ⚬ Constantly texting ⚬ Pride in her appearance. ⚬ A healthy disregard for rules, accompanied by a habit of skipping class. ⚬ Always fashionably late. ⚬ Flirting with those she finds interesting. ⚬ Admiring the moon and stars on clear nights ⚬ Competitive with everything she does. ⚬ Will climb and claw her way to the top. ⚬ Usually has ulterior motives. ⚬ Plays as though no one is watching her. ⚬ Jimsonweed tea on heavy days ⚬ Loose change often jingles in their pockets ⚬ Hardly trusts a soul. ⚬ Showing off whenever the chance arises. ⚬ An expectation of being appreciated.⚬

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ To become truly powerful in her craft and break free of the shadow she feels she is in around her siblings and her parents.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ To rely on others for the rest of her life. To becoming weak and useless. Or even worse the servant to someone below her.

 в í σ g r α p h ч 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
As the middle child of the Graves spawn it was easy for Phoibe to be overlooked. Something she realized, even as a small child, would not be allowed. Always seeking attention - in any way she could - Phoibe would undoubtedly receive that which she craved. It was rewarding; even if it was a punishment. Because now her parents were thinking of her (even just for a small moment). 

This desire to know all and have all materialized at the age of five when she was stuck sitting in the corner - a fitting place for a reprimanded child - and stared into the flames of the nearby candles their mother had lit. Staring, staring, staring little Phoibe made out shapes behind the wisps of red and orange. Heard voices, muffled and distant as if they were far away. Yet, they were familiar. Their neighbors, arguing about something to do with infidelity (she knew not of what that was) and continued to peer into the fire. It held her attention until she was pulled from it by her mother a look of apprehension across her features. While her father only looked on with mild approval. From then on she was instructed to practice and control said abilities. While her siblings dabbled in their affinities; which looked more like playing from her end - she was stuck toting around a fairly large mirror in a bag, constantly being told to practice, practice, practice.   

The attention she so desperately craved was now something she wished she hadn't brought on herself. Wished she could be out from under their gazes, their control. It wasn't fair. Nothing seemed to be just the right amount of... right for the middle child. Too much attention. Not enough. What did she want? What did she want from anyone was beyond her. She was still so young. Eventually, once arriving on the stoop of Hawthorne she came to realize that attention from others was completely different than that of a familial kind. People knew of her already strictly because of her name. 
"One of the oldest wizarding families in the world. The ones that could trace lineage to the Moot and further. They were key components in the process..." all true, of course. And it was thrilling.

People noticed her for her - or so she believed. Turns out with a prominent lineage as her own it only buys followers and those seeking to further gain something for themselves. If they sought to use her they were sure to be mistaken. Phoibe Graves is done seeking the approval and attention from others on what she thinks they want. And has since the age of nineteen, started doing things for herself. Using her power and her name to her advantage she will forge her own way. Anyone dumb enough to be caught in her path will be put on blast. Damn the consequences.

Scry about it, if you want. Not a soul will care.


^{_______________________________________________} _{𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖎 _{「 lore 」} 𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖘 \| pansexual \| #92f8a3 \| 𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖊 \| female \| 5'7" \| 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ Magnetic ☀ Gregarious ☀ Boisterous ☀ Revelrous ☀ Charismatic ☀ Crow Brained Chaotic ☁ Capricious ☁ Voracious ☁ Indulgent ☁ Emotional ☁ Disorganized ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵} _{✦ vinyl records ✦ collecting things ✦ change ✦ trying new things ✦ making playlists ✦ doing things ✦ upbeat atmospheres ✦ breakfast sandwiches ✦ paranormal shows ✦ electric swing ✦ snakes ✦ mythology ✦ deep poetry ✦ summer nights ✦ festivals & concerts ✦ prefers movies over books ✦ pet names and cliches ✦ jumping in puddles ✦ puzzles ✦ ✦ itchy scales and dry skin ✦ abusers ✦ cake decorating ✦ day time TV ✦ boredom ✦ speed dating ✦ a constant state of blah ✦ things becoming too mainstream ✦ losing out on individuality ✦ not being there for her friends ✦ feeling inadequate ✦ cleaning dishes ✦ being too serious ✦ new car smells ✦ headaches ✦ sun burns ✦ buzz kills ✦ manipulation techniques ✦ feeling helpless ✦}	_{s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ Merfolk Being a siren allows Lore to swim at high speeds, cutting through the water with ease. This also applies to being able to dwell underwater for extended periods of time. Breathing, speaking and seeing underwater is a huge boon when traversing the world via water. Lore excels at water based sports and is a master in the water; feeling most at home in baths, lakes, rivers, the sea etc. Stick her in the fountain and see her happy as a lark. ➽➽➽ Siren Call Lorelei can sing beautifully, it's in her blood. Though there is a certain tone, tune or string of lyrics thrown together that can be used to lure anyone who hears it to do as the singer requests or orders. Still being in the young stages of her siren-hood, Lore can only use this on one person at a time. Still, one is better than none. ➽➽➽ Crow Brained She is extremely ADHD in the sense that many things catch her eye. Especially if they are of the unique or shiny variety. Because of this she embodies Disney's Ariel and her treasure seeking ways. Having always gone off when she wasn't supposed to in order to find new and exciting things. Whether sunk to the bottoms of the sea or on land amongst the mortals.} _{➽➽➽ Dry Scales If she doesn't moisturize, or emerse herself in water - fairly often - Lore will develop dry patches along her body (mainly on the sides of her thighs, her neck and her wrists). These dry patches resemble her scales in a very agitated state and it is quite uncomfortable for her. She tends to stay away from anything that would over dry her skin such as hand sanitizers and other cleaning products. ➽➽➽ Distracted Lorelei is very much scatterbrained and therefore drifts in and out of daydreams; especially when on land. Some professors have resulted into having a tank or a trough in the back of the room just for her to lounge in and pay better attention. she works best with extrinsic motivations. Things that she is interested in, she will focus on. It's everything else that's a struggle. ➽➽➽ Careless She doesn't mean to put people under her powers, but it happens sometimes. More than she would ever like to admit. Humming in the showers or while on walks around town. While shopping or swimming or just in class bored outta her mind. It happens and she doesn't mean nothing by it. It might be a bigger problem than she realizes.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘 not a lot is known about the werewolves from the siren community. only that they were taught to swim as far away from them as possible if ever to come across one. especially those of the feline persuasion. they enjoy fish and fish-like creatures, so it's best not to become too friendly with those who would enjoy sinking their claws and teeth into them. Lore was taught and grew up believing them to be backwards and brutish. though her years at Hawthorne seem to contradict that, and she's enjoyed meeting some of the werewolves she has. would even consider them friends. 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘 beautiful, ethereal. immortal beings that are not unlike her own kind. at least that's what she's heard around the school. well, not in so many words - but she can see the similarities. though she is probably the most weary of them due to their long lifespans and how they can swoop in and out of someone's vision the same way sirens can swim distances quickly. almost as if by teleportation. there is something off about vampires that just... get under her scales. but she likes to keep an open mind. 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖐 probably the most enigmatic of the races at the school. or at least of the ones she's met. Lore likes 'em well enough. it is a bit hard not to tempt them into doing anything really. they're still mortals after all. but they aren't too bad in her opinion. still much they have to learn about the others of the world, but isn't that the case for all in attendance at Hawthorne? 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘 it's hard not to lump them into the category of food and livability. but that is what she sees them as. thanks to generations long ideals that were passed down through the communities and families. but Lore would be remiss to say that she doesn't enjoy learning from them. they have so many ideas - good and bad - but ideas that are new and fresh nonetheless. and what Lore enjoys most is learning. who better to learn from than someone you would least expect? though she is tempted constantly with trying to lure them into the waters surrounding the town and school.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ travel the world. there hasn't really been another ambition other than that. but she has many years to decide on this. for now, she is content to just swim, swim, swim.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ drowning. surprisingly. being torn limb from limb by someone she thinks of as a close friend.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} A doting daughter. One of many of the Galanis clan. Until she wasn't. It was hard to keep a leash on her, though that wasn't what the family was about. They were supportive in her yearning to learn all there was about anything. They made no illusions to the upside of the world and would visit the surface - as a family - regularly. To show and teach their children what was safe and what was not. All in all it was a very formative time of her life. However, there was a lot to the Sirens legacy that was a lot more than singing songs and swimming around freely. And Lorelei came to this realization a lot sooner than others thought she would. And they believed that she would be one to join in on the fun. Luring men and women alike into their clutches, dragging them into the water, holding them under before letting them go. Never truly breaking the laws set in place against killing mortals - though that wouldn't stop all that dwelled within the community. Some of her family members partook in such offenses. It was hard for Lore to see the benefit in it all. But went along with it until she couldn't anymore. Not an easy thing to leave home so young. She didn't want to be a monster. The monster that the mortals make them out to be and yet that is exactly what it was she was. At least under the tutelage of her family. It was blessing she was able to get away. Staying clear away from the warmth of the Greek waters she called home. Eventually her travels lead her to the waters surrounding Scotland, and once she was old enough, Hawthorne Academy called to her; not unlike her own call. And she has been there ever since. _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{✦ handwritten notes ✦ daydreaming ✦ creating personal worlds ✦ positive vibes ✦ playlists for every occasion ✦ scales on her legs ✦ handfuls of flowers ✦ ripped jeans ✦ loud print ✦ lofty grins ✦ singing in the shower ✦ a little broken ✦ bright eyes like sapphires ✦ tangled cords ✦ peace signs ✦ bass thumping ✦ sweat ✦ smell of salt water ✦ little tattoos ✦ messy but lovable ✦ the bustling of a large family ✦ clear skies ✦ counting down to the weekend ✦ distant gazes ✦ twinkling laughter ✦ selfless love (agape) ✦ summer nights ✦ long lasting friendships ✦ swimming for hours regardless of the temperature ✦} _{✦ not sure how but shows up everywhere ✦ responds to everything with peace signs ✦ soft, mellow music when things get too heavy ✦ always asks how your day was ✦ wears a lot of jewelry ✦ eccentric & eclectic style ✦ thrift shopping ✦ stays up so late it's morning ✦ lethargic during the day and wired at night ✦ sees past appearances ✦ gets lost in thought ✦ procrastinates ✦ endings and new beginnings ✦ disappears at random times ✦ fount of random knowledge ✦ light handwriting ✦ always tries to be happy for everyone else's sake over hers ✦ wants to be selfish ✦ smiling at strangers ✦ making promises ✦ running barefoot ✦ crowns made out of seashells and driftwood ✦ unearthed potential ✦ peculiar clothing choices ✦}


^{_______________________________________________} _{𝖕𝖍𝖔𝖎𝖇𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘 \| 𝔟𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩 \| #ca82a4 \| 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 \| ♀️ \| 5'3" \| 𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ☀ Ambitious \| Tenacious \| Vivacious \| Confident \| Gregarious \| Spontaneous \| Poised ☁ Self Centered \| Voracious \| Overcritical \| Vain \| Dramatic \| Pompous \| Promiscuous ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵} _{⚬ snakes ⚬ soft glow lights ⚬ late night conversations ⚬ sexual tension ⚬ concertos ⚬ going out ⚬ jazz and swing music ⚬ giving gifts ⚬ cooking ⚬ thunderstorms ⚬ smell of coffee ⚬ trying new things ⚬ reading before bed ⚬ dressing up ⚬ midnight snacks ⚬ going to the beach ⚬ stargazing ⚬ shades of copper ⚬ sour candy ⚬ mystery books ⚬ messy vanities ⚬ bubble baths ⚬ silk sheets ⚬ stray cats ⚬ being creative ⚬ gossip columns & blackmail ⚬ ⚬ feeling rushed ⚬ snowstorms ⚬ being stuck at home ⚬ family drama ⚬ having nothing to wear ⚬ disappointing people ⚬ feeling alone ⚬ tight spaces ⚬ feeling uninspired ⚬ sad movies ⚬ worrying about who is watching ⚬ delays ⚬ cheap liquor ⚬ knock off brands ⚬ insects ⚬ being forced to do anything ⚬ the idea of a 9-5 job ⚬ bland food ⚬ slow paced anything ⚬ parameters and limits ⚬ people who smack their food ⚬ strings snapping ⚬ things out of tune ⚬}	_{s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽➽ Scrying As well as other magic associated with reflective surfaces; Phoibe has learned to be able to commune as well as observe the goings on on the other side. She uses this information for her own personal benefits. ➽➽➽➽ Adroit Phoibe is well-learned and takes pride in the knowledge she has gained over the span of her life. Whether it comes to her intelligence in mundane things or with her magic, she is skilled in all areas. A jack of all trades, master of none. ➽➽➽➽ Eidolic She isn't invisible to others, on the contrary, Phoibe wouldn't be able to NOT be seen. Though she does have a way of collecting information and secrets in such a way that you would think she's hidden in plain sight. Unusual really. Always picking up new bits of information, she isn't one to show her full hand all the time. Instead liking to hold back before making a move. ➽➽➽➽ Spirit Depending on what it is that Phoibe has shown interest in, she has an abundance of "spirit" for it. Which is just a nicer way of saying she is an obsessed fangirl. Whether it's a school couple, a new article of clothing or a juicy piece of information you can bet she is there with all the details. All while posting it online for others to enjoy as well. It gets her into trouble, that's for sure.} _{➽➽➽➽ Restless She doesn't like listening to people talk for longer than a few minutes so she interrupts all the damn time, stops paying attention, gets restless or just walks away completely. Doesn't help that she does this in class as well. ➽➽➽➽ Displeasure Patience is a virtue one she toes the line with. Especially when it comes to the flea bags and bloodsuckers of the world... ➽➽➽➽ Pride and Prejudice Phoibe holds a lofty opinion of herself and rarely admits to being wrong. Even moreso when it has to do with her family and their extensive and pureblood-esque heritage. ➽➽➽➽ Tritanopia A type of blue-yellow color blindness. It doesn't really affect her day to day unless she's needed to distinguish colors that she struggles with. _{Green–blue, yellow–pink and purple–red}.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{⚬ Concerts In Remote Locations ⚬ Trips back home to Visit Family ⚬ Shots of Tequila For The Fun of It ⚬ Gossiping ⚬ Tangled Necklaces ⚬ Lipstick Marks ⚬ Winged Eyeliner ⚬ Lust for Power ⚬ Careful Manipulation ⚬ Windswept Hair ⚬ Over Indulgence in Comfort ⚬ Minimalist Fashion ⚬ Foggy Sunlight ⚬ Naming Constellations ⚬ Everything in its Place ⚬ Guilty Vices ⚬ Bad Decisions ⚬ Lit Cigarette ⚬ Hot Espresso ⚬ Sharp Thorns ⚬ Cherry Bomb ⚬ Candle Lit Dinners ⚬ Broken Promises ⚬ Soft Pillows ⚬ Rose Petal Bubble Baths ⚬ Natural Sunlight ⚬ Thick Forests ⚬} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{⚬ She loves the smell of freshly peeled tangerines ⚬ Can do no wrong but does wrong ⚬ Hides emotions behind a sarcastic smirk ⚬ No patience for those that waste her time or anyone without a spine. ⚬ Constantly texting ⚬ Pride in her appearance. ⚬ A healthy disregard for rules, accompanied by a habit of skipping class. ⚬ Always fashionably late. ⚬ Flirting with those she finds interesting. ⚬ Admiring the moon and stars on clear nights ⚬ Competitive with everything she does. ⚬ Will climb and claw her way to the top. ⚬ Usually has ulterior motives. ⚬ Plays as though no one is watching her. ⚬ Jimsonweed tea on heavy days ⚬ Loose change often jingles in their pockets ⚬ Hardly trusts a soul. ⚬ Showing off whenever the chance arises. ⚬ An expectation of being appreciated.⚬} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ To become truly powerful in her craft and break free of the shadow she feels she is in around her siblings and her parents.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ To rely on others for the rest of her life. To becoming weak and useless. Or even worse the servant to someone below her.} _{в í σ g r α p h ч} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} As the middle child of the Graves spawn it was easy for Phoibe to be overlooked. Something she realized, even as a small child, would not be allowed. Always seeking attention - in any way she could - Phoibe would undoubtedly receive that which she craved. It was rewarding; even if it was a punishment. Because now her parents were thinking of her _{(even just for a small moment)}. This desire to know all and have all materialized at the age of five when she was stuck sitting in the corner - a fitting place for a reprimanded child - and stared into the flames of the nearby candles their mother had lit. Staring, staring, staring little Phoibe made out shapes behind the wisps of red and orange. Heard voices, muffled and distant as if they were far away. Yet, they were familiar. Their neighbors, arguing about something to do with infidelity _{(she knew not of what that was)} and continued to peer into the fire. It held her attention until she was pulled from it by her mother a look of apprehension across her features. While her father only looked on with mild approval. From then on she was instructed to practice and control said abilities. While her siblings dabbled in their affinities; which looked more like playing from her end - she was stuck toting around a fairly large mirror in a bag, constantly being told to practice, practice, practice. The attention she so desperately craved was now something she wished she hadn't brought on herself. Wished she could be out from under their gazes, their control. It wasn't fair. Nothing seemed to be just the right amount of... right for the middle child. Too much attention. Not enough. What did she want? What did she want from anyone was beyond her. She was still so young. Eventually, once arriving on the stoop of Hawthorne she came to realize that attention from others was completely different than that of a familial kind. People knew of her already strictly because of her name. "One of the oldest wizarding families in the world. The ones that could trace lineage to the Moot and further. They were key components in the process..." all true, of course. And it was thrilling. People noticed her for her - or so she believed. Turns out with a prominent lineage as her own it only buys followers and those seeking to further gain something for themselves. If they sought to use her they were sure to be mistaken. Phoibe Graves is done seeking the approval and attention from others on what she thinks they want. And has since the age of nineteen, started doing things for herself. Using her power and her name to her advantage she will forge her own way. Anyone dumb enough to be caught in her path will be put on blast. Damn the consequences. _{Scry about it, if you want. Not a soul will care.}

In 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟ → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

ｗｈｏ  ｐｏｓｓｅｓｓｅｓ  ｆｏｏｄ
保 食 神  
 保 食 神



▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅
Andy Blossom | #86866b
████████████████████████
𝕿 𝖍 𝖊   𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊  
𝕿 𝖍 𝖊   𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊


⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟
Ukemochi no Kami

⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟
Food

⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟
Japanese
🌾
𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 🌾 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 
If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world

██████████████████
 ＧＬＵＴＴＯＮＯＵＳ
ＧＬＵＴＴＯＮＯＵＳ

Ukemochi can induce hunger and extremes of gluttony in others such as over-indulgence and over-consumption of food or drink to the point of extravagance or waste. Victim is unable to focus on anything else than fulfilling their hunger. Such gluttonous behavior, if consumed, will send the victim into a euphoric state, rendering them useless for a short duration. 

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 🌾 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅 
Pull up a chair. Take a taste. Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious


▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
███████████████
𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬  
𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬

⌜ Gregarious & Creative   

Adaptative & Tenacious 

Cultured  & Affable ⌟
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
███████████████
𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬  
𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬

⌜ Voracious & Indulgent  

Damaged & Instigating 

Impressionable & Overcritical ⌟



▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅
████████████████████████
т н є   м σ я т α ℓ  
т н є   м σ я т α ℓ


⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟
Utae Amano
あまの うたえ 

⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃   𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟
Twenties

⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘   &   𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟
Pansexual, Female, She/Her

⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟
Chef 


𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 🌾 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘 
There is no love sincerer than the love of food


▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
██████████████████████
𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲  
𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲

⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟


According to the legend, the moon goddess, Tsukiyomi, was dispatched to earth by her lover, Amaterasu, to visit Ukemochi no Kami. The food goddess welcomed her by facing the land and disgorging from her mouth boiled rice, turning toward the sea and spewing out all kinds of fishes, and turning toward the land and disgorging game. She presented these foods to her at a banquet, but she was displeased at being offered the goddess’s vomit and drew her sword and killed her. When Yomi returned to heaven and informed Ama of what she had done, Ama became angry and said, “Henceforth I shall not meet you face to face,” which is said to explain why the Sun and the Moon are never seen together.

The story should have ended there. But nothing is as it seems in the realm of the divine. Amaterasu came to earth and found various stuffs produced from the dead body of Ukemochi. From her head came the ox and the horse; from her forehead, millet; from her eyebrows, silkworms; from her eyes, panic grass; from her belly, rice; and from her genitals, wheat and beans. Amaterasu had the food grains sown for humanity’s future use and, placing the silkworms in her mouth, reeled thread from them, thereby beginning the art of sericulture—the production of raw silk. With her divine gifts and the newly created silk threads Ama sewed the Food Goddess back together thus bringing her back to life.

From there on, Ukemochi spent her life in devotion to her creator - more so than she had in her first life.

██████████████████████
𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲  
𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲

⌜ м σ я т α ℓ   ℓ ι f є ⌟
Since the Fall, Ukemochi has continued to be faithful in her servitude towards Amaterasu. Though, the Sun goddess has had her fair share of issues over the span of eternity, it's given her free reign to do as she pleases. Only coming to the call of her creator when she is needed. As of late that call has placed her as the head chef for Ama. A role that she takes extremely serious.

Only, Ama makes her promise not to vomit up any more foods for her table.

██████████████████████
𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬  
𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬

⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟
Sample all the foods of the earth and create the most delicious meals anyone has ever tasted.

⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟
Yomi cutting her into a million pieces again.


	^{Andy Blossom \| #86866b} ^{████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊} ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ _{Ukemochi no Kami} ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ _Food ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ _Japanese 🌾


▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ^{███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬} ⌜ Gregarious & Creative Adaptative & Tenacious Cultured & Affable ⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ^{███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬} ⌜ Voracious & Indulgent Damaged & Instigating Impressionable & Overcritical ⌟


	^{████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ т н є м σ я т α ℓ} ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ _{Utae Amano} _{_{あまのうたえ}} ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ _Twenties ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ _{Pansexual, Female, She/Her} ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ _Chef


▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ^{██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲} ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ^{According to the legend, the moon goddess, Tsukiyomi, was dispatched to earth by her lover, Amaterasu, to visit Ukemochi no Kami. The food goddess welcomed her by facing the land and disgorging from her mouth boiled rice, turning toward the sea and spewing out all kinds of fishes, and turning toward the land and disgorging game. She presented these foods to her at a banquet, but she was displeased at being offered the goddess’s vomit and drew her sword and killed her. When Yomi returned to heaven and informed Ama of what she had done, Ama became angry and said, “Henceforth I shall not meet you face to face,” which is said to explain why the Sun and the Moon are never seen together. The story should have ended there. But nothing is as it seems in the realm of the divine. Amaterasu came to earth and found various stuffs produced from the dead body of Ukemochi. From her head came the ox and the horse; from her forehead, millet; from her eyebrows, silkworms; from her eyes, panic grass; from her belly, rice; and from her genitals, wheat and beans. Amaterasu had the food grains sown for humanity’s future use and, placing the silkworms in her mouth, reeled thread from them, thereby beginning the art of sericulture—the production of raw silk. With her divine gifts and the newly created silk threads Ama sewed the Food Goddess back together thus bringing her back to life. From there on, Ukemochi spent her life in devotion to her creator - more so than she had in her first life.} ^{██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲} ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ^{Since the Fall, Ukemochi has continued to be faithful in her servitude towards Amaterasu. Though, the Sun goddess has had her fair share of issues over the span of eternity, it's given her free reign to do as she pleases. Only coming to the call of her creator when she is needed. As of late that call has placed her as the head chef for Ama. A role that she takes extremely serious. Only, Ama makes her promise not to vomit up any more foods for her table.} ^{██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬} ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ^{Sample all the foods of the earth and create the most delicious meals anyone has ever tasted.} ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ _{Yomi cutting her into a million pieces again.}

In A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion → 1 yr ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

𝓞𝓪𝓴 𝓢𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓪𝔂
 𝓞𝓪𝓴 𝓢𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓪𝔂

interactions: Oak & Garrett @Danvers | Argie | Baratheon Boys @Sini

It had become rowdy and loud in the Pavilion. The air was heavy with drunken laughter, some unruly, most simply cheerful. It would be difficult to spot anyone you knew amongst the crowd and even harder still to spot a lady in trouble. Bards however were used to such gatherings and one particular singer had been staggering throughout the swathes of revelers, his path akin to a bee - a rather drunken bee it must be noted - on its morning flight to fetch pollen. On more than one occasion he nearly slipped, grabbing arms and shoulders and even a leg to steady himself. His eyes were unfocused and he was wondering amusedly why everyone was part of a triplet, when something dreadfully awful caught his attention. A brute? And a lady looking rather uncomfortable? Well who better to investigate than the trusted bard!

Such thoughts passed through his head with an intoxicated absence of clarity and he had no time to think them through before he stumbled straight into the side of their table, sending goblets and tankards flying in every direction. Their contents slopped onto the floor and filled the air with the strong scent of hops & fruit, prompting several groans of protest. Oblivious to the upset he had caused, Oak pushed himself upright once more, his grin wide as he tottered over to his objects of interest, squeezing himself between the young doe and her companion. He leant down on both elbows, eyes glimmering with mischief and a sudden focus that had not been there only moments before. 

"Perchance could I entertain your fine-" He hiccuped, "Your fine selves with a bout of music? Or maybe a limerick if you are so inclined?" A finger tapped against his chin idly, "I know one you may like." He turned to the brute beside him though not before shooting the girl a small wink. "There was once a giant so hairy. He was dreadfully unsanitary. He was awfully rude…and so small in the nude--"

Oaks' eyes traveled impishly down to the man's lap and not for the first time that day, was he suddenly cut off. However this was no simple goblet careening towards his head. The long bench was pushed back with enough force to send everyone atop careening backwards and a large hand grabbed ahold of his tunic, pulling the bard brusquely to his feet. "Now, now. I meant no offense-" He smiled harridly until his voice was cut short by a tightening of hairy, wine-stained fingers about his collar. Oak scrambled but his boots no longer had any purchase on the ground and all he could do was wave his arms in a wild panic, doing little more than to make himself look rather ridiculous. Oh how dearly he wished to be away from this fellow's breath. To say it smelt like a dead animal would be cruel to dead animals everywhere.

"I don't like limericks." The brute growled, spit and beer flying from his mouth. "And I really don't like bards." He placed an emphasis on each of his words, his face reddening with anger.

* * *

Orryn was no stranger to the raucous atmosphere permeating the drinking pavilions. Glancing round he saw men and women from all over the Seven Kingdoms, and some exotics besides. Put this many people together, add the excitement of violence and drown it in wine, ale and spirits… that was a heady and volatile mixture like wildfire itself. Some uneasiness tickled the back of his neck. It was only a matter of time before fights would break out over dice or women.

There were also several men in dragon livery with watchful eyes who, the Baratheon saw, drank sparingly. Maekar’s, Bloodraven or Baelor’s? Orryn pondered, deciding they had likely been posted by all three. He had been nursing a horn of dark ale strong enough to make his eyes water, something sweet and bitter. Others around him lacked his kind of restraint. Certainly, Harlan and his young stags had indulged vigorously in the bounty of grain and grape. They sat together, or rather sprawled, like lazy youths though most of them had passed into manhood. Summer knights and greenhorns, thought Orryn as he listened to their boasts and tourney prognostics. 

“Half of this lot will be out in the first quarter,” he muttered to Robert ‘Bobbie Crawdad’ Cray, one of his companions.

The swarthy Crannogman was far from home, but had been with Orryn from the first day he had stepped off the ship in Pentos. Crawdad was busily dismembering his namesakes, tossing the tiny peeled carcasses over his shoulder. He was one of those characters who ate with such gusto that even if you had made a pig out of yourself, you’d find yourself wolfing down another helping. “This is not half bad,” he said, slurping on a crimson torso piece. “Nothing like Mama Cray’s cooking of course.” More slurping underlined his point. “And it makes me long for the marshes and crawfish boils of home.” Talk of the tourney would seemingly not spoil his appetite or distract him from his meal.

Orryn shook his head, ignoring the nostalgic homesickness. Harder it was to ignore the nascent hunger Crawdad’s relish was working up. He cast long eyes at the emptying bowl. “Where did you get that anyway?”

Cray pointed a finger at a red coloured tent. “Some Dornishman married a Riverlands girl and now they travel the realm, selling bisque and étouffé at fairs, markets and tourneys. They came up with their own flavour mix combining green herbs and hot spices.” It always amazed Orryn how much Crawdad could get out of people. He had that easy way about him, and though he was ten years Orryn’s senior he had kept his boyish charm. With grease dripping down his chin, Robert grinned widely. “Rather romantic. I bet they will make beautiful children.”

* * *

Having someone swoop in to rescue her, at first, irked the young doe. Always seen as something needing saving, someone weaker, it wasn’t her in the slightest and yet that is all she would ever be known for. In her mind at least. So when the bard arrived, she had shot him a glare and would have told him that she was doing just fine, she never got the chance. The brute’s grasp on her had disappeared as he focused his attention on her savior. His theatrics saved her and cast all the wrath on himself.

She was appreciative of the rescue, once she realized that she was finally free, though she now found herself irritated. At the situation. At the drunkard. At the bard and of course at herself. “All I wanted was a night to myself…” she grumbled, exhaling deeply through her nose as she picked up a decanter of red and dumped it in the drunk’s face, “And you ‘ave done nothin’ but ruin that!”

The wine to the face did nothing to help the poor man dangling above the ground. If anything it only managed to get his sights set back upon her. To which she swallowed hard and swung the arm holding her makeshift weapon, landing a solid blow to the side of his head, effectively causing him to let go of the bard. He stumbled, taking hold of his head, a trickle of blood falling into his eyes and blurring his already unstable vision. His shouts drowned out with the rest of the ruckus of the tent as Argella took her protector’s hand in hers and hauled him in the opposite direction, a laugh on her lips as they went shuffled between the throng of those congregated, “Quick as a bunny now, let’s go.”

* * *

Oak beamed back at the doe, letting her whisk him through the crowd. He clutched tightly onto her hand, her steady progress the only thing that stopped him from toppling over his own feet. Laughter spilled from his lips and they were barely paying attention to where they were going, the music only heightening the frantic joy. He turned to see if the giant was following when, ignorant of who was around them, the pair crashed into a nearby patron. Hands came up to steady Argella, the tall figure glancing down at the duo, dark eyebrows raised. "There you are…"

Garrett scowled at the bard, irritation clearly drawn across his face. His jaw tightened before his eyes moved over to Argella, unabashedly admiring her form. "Have we met before?" He asked bluntly, his gaze shooting briefly over to the pair's clasped hands, something akin to jealousy flashing across his features for the briefest of moments. "I must apologize for the interruption but I was looking for my bard." He frowned at Oaks' disheveled appearance, his tunic torn and beer staining his doublet. "Speaking of...why do you look like you've been sleeping in a ditch?"

Oak opened his mouth to explain when yells and shrieks began to erupt from the crowd surrounding them. People scurried aside as a great, lumbering oaf came stumbling through the throng, one hand clutched against his blood matted hair, unsteady gaze trying to focus on the doe and the bard. He stopped in his tracks, wobbling precariously for a moment before pointing a grimy finger at the trio. "You!" He slurred, words bumbling from his lips. 

"What in the Seven have you done now?" Garrett muttered to Oak as he moved to step in front of the young Baratheon, pushing her gently aside. "Let me guess. It was another limerick?" He shook his head. "Our dear bard does so love to antagonise his patrons." The lord turned to smile wickedly at Argella, "Though it seems he had aid this time..."

With the sudden readjustment of position Argella found herself staring up at the wicked grin and feeling a nagging sensation pull at her mind. Something was so oddly familiar with him, she knew his face, but from where? 

An odd thought for an inopportune time. The dark haired lass puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms over her chest once his words reached her ears, “It should be known, good ser that I aided him not. He was the one who intervened,” she huffed through her nose. As if the statement made the situation any fairer. Though she tried to be serious in the matter she couldn’t help the shy smile that graced her lips upon receiving such attention from the handsome man.

In no time however, the drunken brute had caught up to the trio, still disoriented and still lit with, no doubt what he believed to be a righteous fury - pulling her from her reverie, “You wretched cunt-monger,” his words were venomous and like gravel in the mouth and he spit with every other syllable. Enough where Argie feared the dribble would fly off and land on her or her guardian. He seemed far less concerned with the situation at hand and more bothered that the drunk was there in the first place.

Argella wanted to retaliate and was nearly successful in sidestepping the dark haired man posing as her shield, if only to take another swing towards her aggressor. Though the most she was able to do was glare menacingly at him. She hadn’t even realized she had grabbed ahold of the warm body before her in the hope to steady her already frayed nerves. It was supposed to be a fun and relaxing evening… not, this.

“This your bitch?” He hurled insults around like leaves in autumn, jutting a finger in the young Baratheon’s direction as he glared at the Tyrell, “She owes me a right apology she does. Look at what she’s done. An’ I expect to be handsomely compensated for my anguish,” he was smarmy and so self-assured in his swaying stance.

Garrett smiled, arms folded lazily across his chest. "Let me get this straight. You're demanding that I pay you for your…anguish?" He drawled, derisive laughter spilling from his lips. "Though it's understandable I suppose. You came here for the tourney yet you have already been bested by a girl." He cocked his head at the ugly man, taking in his increasingly teetering form. "It will surely bring shame to whatever mud pit you call a house."

“You pretty boys always like to be chivalrous, don’t you? Drooling over those lady bits.” The brute was drooling himself, though the irony would be lost on him. Instead, he raised two ham-sized fists, scars covering the knuckles that jutted out like subdermal pebbles. “Get your smug gob out of my way, ‘fore I make you eat that mud.”

“No,” was all Garrett said, and had time to, before a bare-knuckle jab flew fast as an arrow. The big brutish lout was surprisingly quick for his inebriated encumbrance. As if the cauliflower ears and crooked nose had been no indication: this fellow could throw a punch.

Against all odds the young Lord managed to stay upright, though there was no time to dodge and the fist slammed into his face, a sudden sharp pain blooming across the bridge of his nose, followed by a rush of warm blood. He stumbled back into Argella but managed to catch himself, stunned and likely with a brutal headache brewing. But Garrett had grown up with a rambunctious brother and was no stranger to pain, as much as he highly disliked it. 

"I'm going to kill you." He muttered moodily as he pinched his fingers either side of his nose, jaw twitching in irritation. There was a sudden war cry, or at least a yell beside him as Oak ran - or more accurately stumbled - towards the brute, dragging a chair with him. He swung the chair aloft, though only succeeded in raising it to eye level before he smashed it against the man's chest, wood splintering as it broke uselessly against the oaf's surprisingly robust body. The man did little more than utter a grunt of displeasure before turning his gaze to the bard.  Garrett couldn't help but roll his eyes as three more men parted the now sizable crowd, each appearing to be equally boneheaded as the last, though comically they were all of decidedly different shapes & sizes. 

"You really know how to pick them don't you?" He smirked at Argella, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. His nose at the very least did not feel broken though his tunic was sadly ruined. "Such a waste of fine cloth." Garrett shook his head before reaching down to draw a small dagger that had been sheathed at his waist, and holding it out to the young woman. "Personally I'd aim for the waist down."

A coy grin graced her features as she looked up at him, “Don’t I though?” she quipped though it seemed it was lost on him as he passed his personal weapon to her. The heat that erupted across her skin from having his eyes on her felt as if she were walking through flames. Shaking such thoughts from her mind, Argie grabbed the stylet and held on firmly, weighing it. The blade was longer than she was used to but she would make do. “You assume this is my first time wielding a knife~,” she teased, her gaze flipping between the weapon and Garrett. This was all too much, but instead of finding herself overwhelmed with it all, the young Baratheon discovered that this was exactly what she was needing in order to feel… alive. 

Argella shot him a thankful smile that was short lived. With the reflexes of a cat, she surged forward, blade first; the look on Garrett’s face was of shock - at least for a brief moment - as she dashed past the Tyrell Lord and thrust her newly acquired blade into the gut of one of the drunkard’s companions. Just as quickly as she stuck him like the pig he was, she twisted the blade in deeper before yanking it out.

He stared down at her through crossed eyes and blurred vision, muttering some string of curses under his rancid breath before yanking her up by her arm. “She has some fight in her,” he called back towards the rest of his troop. She tried to kick at him to release her but he had enough brains to hold her far enough to keep her blows from landing.

“Put me down and I’ll show you just how much fight…” came her growl. 

* * *

In a very short period of time a very unfortunate series of events went down. Orryn never got to have the bowl of boiled and buttered crustaceans so lauded by his Crannogman companion. Instead, after having paid a handful of coppers, licking his lips in anticipation and moving back in the general direction of Crawdad, some loggerheads rushed past him, almost knocking him over. The étouffé did not survive. Tiny red-bodied crayfish spilled across the grass like calcic gems, and he received an elbow to the gut. When he righted himself he spied a face he knew, and recognised the infamous rage written across it. After all, he was no stranger to the Baratheon fury… it was a family trait.

“Seven Hells,” he grunted out with a wheeze. Sucking in as much air as he could, he bellowed out “Harlan!” Then, like some hornet-stung bull, Orryn started barrelling through the crowd that had gathered. More fists started flying in his wake, though he trusted his younger brother able to navigate through the punches. Harlan had always been quick on his feet.

When he espied the trademark flicker of metal, he felt his bowels lurch. Argella was wielding it, and she had a mountain of a man in her sights. “Argella! Don’t!” Orryn had little hope to be heard over the ruckus, shoving a man off him and doling out a generous kick to clear a path. The knife his sister was about to use would not kill her assailant instantly, and he looked as if he could break her like a twig. Not to mention, it was one thing to be part of a brawl, but another when someone got stuck with a blade. Fortunately she picked a smaller target than the brute, but still… Did she not realise they were subject to Prince Maekar’s jurisdiction? Had she not seen the hanged and mutilated criminals? The ends of his mercy were to be found at the end of a rope. What. was. she. thinking?!

Like a spinning top, Orryn emerged from the massed bodies and charged into his sister’s attackers from behind. The Baratheon put his back into it, intending to lift someone clean off the ground. The boulder-like impact was amplified by a wrathful roar. He would not be able to take them all on, but if Harlan and his staglets and Crawdad were on their way, all he needed to do was bide time. If Argella had any brains at all, she’d try to get away while he collected her beating.

* * *

It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute she was dangling in the air and the next she was falling flat on her backside, bloodied knife still in hand. Argella frantically searched for the man who held her up and spotted him wrestling another - the reason for her release, “Orryn-!” The look shot her way, as brief as it was was enough to get her up off the ground and bolt the other way. Not before she grabbed ahold of the dark haired lord’s hand beside her and dragged him along. She would find some place to hide, out of sight, and wait for Orryn to find her. Argie groaned aloud at the hell that would soon follow from this. 

* * *

Harlan was laughing like his cousin Lyonel would, only madder. Growing up in the wide shadows of his male kinsmen, he had had to play a hard and aloof game and found he quite liked the role he had chosen for him. Like Orryn had done, Harlan flung himself into the fray but with considerably less regard for personal safety. Already he felt the swelling preceding a black eye, and bruises would bloom on his torso like blue and purple flowers in the morning. The pain did not stop him though, as he only grinned the wider - pearly whites turned pink and red from the blood in his mouth. He had knocked someone down, standing over him and momentarily scanned for Orryn’s whereabouts. Instead, he spotted Argella being led away. “Let go of her!” he yelled, slurring his words through bloody spittle. There was some dandy holding her and dragging her off. Not on my watch, thought Hotspur as he felt fingerbones crunch beneath his boot.

* * *

Garrett turned, eyes roaming over the ridiculous drunk of a man, a low laugh escaping his throat. "Such demands you make." He smiled wryly, "But you are mistaken. It is in fact me that is being kidnapped. Perhaps I should have protested more but it is rare that one is stolen by someone so intriguing." He glanced towards Argella, raising his eyebrows at her playfully. His entwined fingers visibly tightened about her own as if to purposefully rile the man even further. "But now I must decline to let go. Unless she commands me of course..." He glanced down at her, his expression surprisingly serious. "Do you command me?"

She whipped her head in the direction of the voice calling out to them, as drunk and slurred as it was, she could still recognize it as Harlan. Who else would be at the heels of Orryn, jumping into the fray with no questions asked? Standing there stock still her eyes danced between the two men talking, if that's what the pissing contest could be watered down to, her jaw slack and a rosy hue painted on her cheeks down to her collarbone, dipping under the fabric of her dress. His squeezing of her hand, the heat from his faze on her, expecting her answer. Harlan on the other hand looked less than pleased with the sight before him as a whole and she could only imagine his chagrin when sober. Commotion from behind her brother pulled their attention back to the situation. Using that to her advantage she tightened her hold on Garrett and pulled him with her once more, shooting him a flirty smile, “After such a compliment how could I so easily release you?”

* * *

By the Gods but this felt good. Royce felt his fashionable doublet tear as he threw a man several feet forward. The fellow hitting an empty barrel of Arbor wine and knocked it over.. He and Orryn had their differences, but he was damn well not going to stand there and let his brother get a kicking from some drunken bastards. If anyone was to beat Orryn, it would be Royce himself. A thunderous roar escaped him as he stretched his arms out like two massive branches from the oaken trunk that was his wide chest. “Anyone else?” A maniac’s grin and lunatic’s eyes turned his fierce, bearded face into that of a demon, so when the huge brute that had previously accosted his sister squared off against him - Royce just loosened his shoulders and bent his legs lightly.

* * *

Oak had found himself staring at the ceiling. Or the fine swathes of cloth that made for a makeshift ceiling. His whole body hurt and he had lost his lute. Nor was his Lord anywhere to be seen. Turning his head, his eyes roamed over a fellow who was laid next to him. In spite of the bruises, blood and blooming black eye, the man was astoundingly handsome and the bard would be a fool to not be distracted by such beauty. With great difficulty he managed to get to his feet, brushing uselessly at his dirt and wine stained doublet. 

"So, do you often come round these parts?" He grinned shamelessly, holding a hand out to the man. The stranger had no time to reply however before Oaks legs were swept out from under him as a large man barreled past, his back hitting the hard ground painfully. The force winded him and for a moment all he could do was gasp for breath, twisting to the side in agony. "You-you flop-nozzle!" He finally managed to shout as he rolled onto his hands and knees, looking around for his attacker. "I'll have you know we musicians are of delicate constitutions!"

In ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

train wrecks go here

running through the trees

_______________________________________________

𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓 「 callie 」 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖓  |  𝔟𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩  |   #e97451  |  𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋  
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧  

𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢  |  ♀️  |  5'6"  |  𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵   
☀ Affable  |  Resilient  |  Playful  |  Enthusiastic  |  Adventurous  |  Spontaneous  |  Fervid
☁ Irresponsible  |  Careless  |  Scatterbrained  |  Impulsive  |  Brazen  |  Extreme  |  Neglectful
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ 

⚬ bonfires ⚬ fireworks ⚬ fall weather ⚬ dogs ⚬ gardening ⚬ nature ⚬ beaches ⚬ cool breezes ⚬ fresh air ⚬ hugs ⚬ acts of kindness ⚬ free summer concerts ⚬ traveling ⚬ hikes ⚬ camping ⚬ surfing ⚬ pack time ⚬ a good joke ⚬ an even better laugh ⚬ 

⚬ waking up in the middle of the night ⚬ losing ⚬ forgetting passwords ⚬ allergies ⚬ spoiling the endings of movies and books ⚬ know it alls ⚬ runny nose ⚬ cracked skin ⚬ sunburns ⚬ clowns ⚬ flying ⚬ peeps & other marshmallow-y stuff ⚬ elevator music ⚬ closed spaces ⚬ cleaning ⚬ mundane shit ⚬ serious situations ⚬ boards breaking ⚬ having to slow down ⚬

 s k í l l s  &  w є α k n є s s є s 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

 ➽➽➽➽ Agile & Compact Because of her slim and petite build, she is able to move around quicker and get in and out of spaces with ease.
 ➽➽➽➽ Up in Arms Always willing to scrap with just about anyone.
 ➽➽➽➽ Quick Learner She can pick up a concept and idea fairly quickly, so long as she can see and attempt while learning. She's a hands-on type of student.
 ➽➽➽➽ Worker Bee Her tracking and survival skills are extremely high. She regularly drops herself in unfamiliar territories in order to see how long it takes her to get back to someplace familiar.

 ➽➽➽➽ Clumsy Even though she is agile and compact, Callen also struggles with the fact that she can get tripped up pretty easily and therefore is just as much of a clutz as she is nimble. A lot of the time moving around too quickly and tripping herself up.
 ➽➽➽➽ Distracted Can easily get distracted when lessons or anything in general doesn't grab her attention - or if she believes she is already knowledgeable in something. There's also the issue of her daydreaming. 
 ➽➽➽➽ Hardheaded  Stubborn as a mule, Callen doesn't like to accept or take orders from those around her unless there has been an establishment of relations. And even then she'll be bratty and petty about it.
 ➽➽➽➽ Chatterbox When someone gets Callen going, it takes a lot to get her to shut up. Even more so when it's a topic that she's passionate about.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
⚬ rolled up sleeves of an oversized sweater ⚬ unwashed jeans ⚬ ornate old fashioned rings ⚬ neat braids ⚬ well loved maps with crumpled edges and faded town names ⚬ an unchanged beside clock ⚬ ignored alarms ⚬ torn shirts ⚬ scuffed up shoes ⚬ burnt matchsticks ⚬ well worn leather jackets ⚬ soft pillows ⚬ warm jumpers from the dryer ⚬ pranks gone oh so wrong ⚬ fireworks in the summer ⚬ bonfires on the beach ⚬ windows filled with plants ⚬ sunlight coming in ⚬ getting lost in the woods ⚬ messy buns ⚬ day trips ⚬ adventure ⚬ photography-filled walls ⚬ hiking bags ⚬ dirty hands ⚬ guitars ⚬ sunscreen ⚬ loud laughter ⚬ overflowing laundry baskets ⚬ empty water bottles ⚬ half finished mugs of coffee ⚬ messy sheets and an unmade bed ⚬ tangled hair ties ⚬ sarcastic remarks ⚬ bandaged fingers ⚬

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
⚬ lips chapped and red from gnawing at the surface whenever lost in thought ⚬ thick brows knit together whenever they’re deep in thought ⚬ calloused fingertips are usually busy dancing across steal strings ⚬ owns more sneakers than heels ⚬ freckles covering every inch of their sun kissed face ⚬ an easy friend to all and just as loyal ⚬ autumn personified ⚬ talking to plants to help them grow ⚬ wolf dogs howling at the blue corn moon ⚬ coming home late from spontaneous hiking trips ⚬ room covered in maps that have markers or pins of places already explored ⚬ usually covered in scratches from tree branches ⚬ could spend entire life outdoors and traveling if given the chance ⚬ always pushing herself and others when on adventures to get to the destination, even when it’s impossible ⚬ loves to go on long road trips and enjoys the scenery on the way ⚬ takes pictures of just about everything ⚬ grows restless if locked up inside for too long ⚬ talks before she thinks ⚬ always has to be moving ⚬

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ Live life to the fullest.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ To never know true freedom.

 в í σ g r α p h ч 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Some people get to choose whether or not they want to be a fighter, but Callen Warren didn't get that choice. She was born to a nomadic pack of werewolves, who roamed what remained of the Irish countryside. The Wicklow Pack had fallen under the sway of a new alpha shortly after her birth, and he'd led them against the Academies. For years, the pack stayed on the run, rarely settling anywhere for long. She doesn't remember much about her biological parents, only that her mother was kind, and her father loved to hunt. In her fourth year, shortly after the birth of her younger brother, August, she remembers the flames. The Academy had found them.

When the sun rose, the once thriving pack had been reduced to Callen, the baby brother she held in her arms, and six others. The survivors were allowed to reaffirm their commitment to the Academies, and Callen and her brother were taken in by a new pack, led by Romulus Thorne. They were based deep in the forests of Ireland, far as they could be from civilization. The woods they lived in were peaceful, and while it took her time, she came to accept them as her home.

Romulus took the siblings under his wing, training Callen in the arts of tracking and survival. He stepped in as a surrogate father, doing his best to guide her through the trials and tribulations that young werewolves must contend with. When it came time to leave for Hawthorne, she went willingly, and with a mind open to adventure. She found it in spades.

Callen fit right in with the pack at Hawthorne. Her scrappy nature drew them to her, and got her into more than a few fights with the bloodsuckers. Still, she's made a name for herself as a loyal friend, and a fierce enemy. She's become a den-mother of sorts to the newbies who wind up on Hawthorne's step, guiding them through the pitfalls of the Academy just as Romulus did for her, all those years ago.  

_______________________________________________

𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖎 「 lore 」 𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖘   |  pansexual  |   #92f8a3  |  𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓  
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧  

𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖊  |  female  |  5'7"  | 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵   
Magnetic ☀ Gregarious ☀ Boisterous ☀ Revelrous ☀ Charismatic ☀ Crow Brained 
Chaotic ☁ Capricious ☁ Voracious ☁ Indulgent ☁ Emotional ☁ Disorganized
▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ 

✦ vinyl records ✦ collecting things ✦ change ✦ trying new things ✦ making playlists ✦ doing things ✦ upbeat atmospheres ✦ breakfast sandwiches ✦ paranormal shows ✦ electric swing ✦ snakes ✦ mythology ✦ deep poetry ✦ summer nights ✦ festivals & concerts ✦ prefers movies over books ✦ pet names and cliches ✦ jumping in puddles ✦ puzzles ✦ 

✦ itchy scales and dry skin ✦ abusers ✦ cake decorating ✦ day time TV ✦ boredom ✦ speed dating ✦ a constant state of blah ✦ things becoming too mainstream ✦ losing out on individuality ✦ not being there for her friends ✦ feeling inadequate ✦ cleaning dishes ✦ being too serious ✦ new car smells ✦ headaches ✦ sun burns ✦ buzz kills ✦ manipulation techniques ✦ feeling helpless ✦ 

 s k í l l s  &  w є α k n є s s є s 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

➽➽➽ Merfolk Being a siren allows Lore to swim at high speeds, cutting through the water with ease. This also applies to being able to dwell underwater for extended periods of time. Breathing, speaking and seeing underwater is a huge boon when traversing the world via water. Lore excels at water based sports and is a master in the water; feeling most at home in baths, lakes, rivers, the sea etc. Stick her in the fountain and see her happy as a lark.
➽➽➽ Siren Call Lorelei can sing beautifully, it's in her blood. Though there is a certain tone, tune or string of lyrics thrown together that can be used to lure anyone who hears it to do as the singer requests or orders. Still being in the young stages of her siren-hood, Lore can only use this on one person at a time. Still, one is better than none.
➽➽➽ Crow Brained She is extremely ADHD in the sense that many things catch her eye. Especially if they are of the unique or shiny variety. Because of this she embodies Disney's Ariel and her treasure seeking ways. Having always gone off when she wasn't supposed to in order to find new and exciting things. Whether sunk to the bottoms of the sea or on land amongst the mortals.

➽➽➽ Dry Scales If she doesn't moisturize, or emerse herself in water - fairly often - Lore will develop dry patches along her body (mainly on the sides of her thighs, her neck and her wrists). These dry patches resemble her scales in a very agitated state and it is quite uncomfortable for her. She tends to stay away from anything that would over dry her skin such as hand sanitizers and other cleaning products.
➽➽➽ Distracted Lorelei is very much scatterbrained and therefore drifts in and out of daydreams; especially when on land. Some professors have resulted into having a tank or a trough in the back of the room just for her to lounge in and pay better attention. she works best with extrinsic motivations. Things that she is interested in, she will focus on. It's everything else that's a struggle.
➽➽➽ Careless She doesn't mean to put people under her powers, but it happens sometimes. More than she would ever like to admit. Humming in the showers or while on walks around town. While shopping or swimming or just in class bored outta her mind. It happens and she doesn't mean nothing by it. It might be a bigger problem than she realizes.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘
not a lot is known about the werewolves from the siren community. only that they were taught to swim as far away from them as possible if ever to come across one. especially those of the feline persuasion. they enjoy fish and fish-like creatures, so it's best not to become too friendly with those who would enjoy sinking their claws and teeth into them. Lore was taught and grew up believing them to be backwards and brutish. though her years at Hawthorne seem to contradict that, and she's enjoyed meeting some of the werewolves she has. would even consider them friends. 

𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘
beautiful, ethereal. immortal beings that are not unlike her own kind. at least that's what she's heard around the school. well, not in so many words - but she can see the similarities. though she is probably the most weary of them due to their long lifespans and how they can swoop in and out of someone's vision the same way sirens can swim distances quickly. almost as if by teleportation. there is something off about vampires that just... get under her scales. but she likes to keep an open mind.

𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖐
probably the most enigmatic of the races at the school. or at least of the ones she's met. Lore likes 'em well enough. it is a bit hard not to tempt them into doing anything really. they're still mortals after all. but they aren't too bad in her opinion. still much they have to learn about the others of the world, but isn't that the case for all in attendance at Hawthorne?

𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘
it's hard not to lump them into the category of food and livability. but that is what she sees them as. thanks to generations long ideals that were passed down through the communities and families. but Lore would be remiss to say that she doesn't enjoy learning from them. they have so many ideas - good and bad - but ideas that are new and fresh nonetheless. and what Lore enjoys most is learning. who better to learn from than someone you would least expect? though she is tempted constantly with trying to lure them into the waters surrounding the town and school.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ travel the world. there hasn't really been another ambition other than that. but she has many years to decide on this. for now, she is content to just swim, swim, swim.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ drowning. surprisingly. being torn limb from limb by someone she thinks of as a close friend.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
A doting daughter. One of many of the Galanis clan.
Until she wasn't.

It was hard to keep a leash on her, though that wasn't what the family was about. They were supportive in her yearning to learn all there was about anything. They made no illusions to the upside of the world and would visit the surface - as a family - regularly. To show and teach their children what was safe and what was not. All in all it was a very formative time of her life.

However, there was a lot to the Sirens legacy that was a lot more than singing songs and swimming around freely. And Lorelei came to this realization a lot sooner than others thought she would. And they believed that she would be one to join in on the fun. Luring men and women alike into their clutches, dragging them into the water, holding them under before letting them go. Never truly breaking the laws set in place against killing mortals - though that wouldn't stop all that dwelled within the community. Some of her family members partook in such offenses. It was hard for Lore to see the benefit in it all. But went along with it until she couldn't anymore.

Not an easy thing to leave home so young. She didn't want to be a monster. The monster that the mortals make them out to be and yet that is exactly what it was she was. At least under the tutelage of her family. It was blessing she was able to get away. Staying clear away from the warmth of the Greek waters she called home. Eventually her travels lead her to the waters surrounding Scotland, and once she was old enough, Hawthorne Academy called to her; not unlike her own call. And she has been there ever since.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

✦ handwritten notes ✦ daydreaming ✦ creating personal worlds ✦ positive vibes ✦ playlists for every occasion ✦ scales on her legs ✦ handfuls of flowers ✦ ripped jeans ✦ loud print ✦ lofty grins ✦ singing in the shower ✦ a little broken ✦ bright eyes like sapphires ✦ tangled cords ✦ peace signs ✦ bass thumping ✦ sweat ✦ smell of salt water ✦ little tattoos ✦ messy but lovable ✦ the bustling of a large family ✦ clear skies ✦ counting down to the weekend ✦ distant gazes ✦ twinkling laughter ✦ selfless love (agape) ✦ summer nights ✦ long lasting friendships ✦ swimming for hours regardless of the temperature ✦ 

✦ not sure how but shows up everywhere ✦ responds to everything with peace signs ✦ soft, mellow music when things get too heavy ✦ always asks how your day was ✦ wears a lot of jewelry ✦ eccentric & eclectic style ✦ thrift shopping ✦ stays up so late it's morning ✦ lethargic during the day and wired at night ✦ sees past appearances ✦ gets lost in thought ✦ procrastinates ✦ endings and new beginnings ✦ disappears at random times ✦ fount of random knowledge ✦ light handwriting ✦ always tries to be happy for everyone else's sake over hers ✦ wants to be selfish ✦ smiling at strangers ✦ making promises ✦ running barefoot ✦ crowns made out of seashells and driftwood ✦ unearthed potential ✦ peculiar clothing choices ✦ 

𝖘 𝖈 𝖗 𝖞   𝖆 𝖇 𝖔 𝖚 𝖙   𝖎 𝖙

_______________________________________________

𝖕𝖍𝖔𝖎𝖇𝖊 「 phoibs 」 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘  |  𝔟𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩  |   #ca82a4  |  𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍  
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧  

𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢  |  ♀️  |  5'3"  |  𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵   
☀ Ambitious  |  Tenacious  |  Vivacious  |  Confident  |  Gregarious  |  Spontaneous  |  Poised
☁ Self Centered  |  Voracious  |  Overcritical  |  Vain  |  Dramatic  |  Pompous  |  Promiscuous
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ 

⚬ snakes ⚬ soft glow lights ⚬ late night conversations ⚬ sexual tension ⚬ concertos ⚬ going out ⚬ jazz and swing music ⚬ giving gifts ⚬ cooking ⚬ thunderstorms ⚬ smell of coffee ⚬ trying new things ⚬ reading before bed ⚬ dressing up ⚬ midnight snacks ⚬ going to the beach ⚬ stargazing ⚬ shades of copper ⚬ sour candy ⚬ mystery books ⚬ messy vanities ⚬ bubble baths ⚬ silk sheets ⚬ stray cats ⚬ being creative ⚬ gossip columns & blackmail ⚬

⚬ feeling rushed ⚬ snowstorms ⚬ being stuck at home ⚬ family drama ⚬ having nothing to wear ⚬ disappointing people ⚬ feeling alone ⚬ tight spaces ⚬ feeling uninspired ⚬ sad movies ⚬ worrying about who is watching ⚬ delays ⚬ cheap liquor ⚬ knock off brands ⚬ insects ⚬ being forced to do anything ⚬ the idea of a 9-5 job ⚬ bland food ⚬ slow paced anything ⚬ parameters and limits ⚬ people who smack their food ⚬ strings snapping ⚬ things out of tune ⚬

 s k í l l s  &  w є α k n є s s є s 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

 ➽➽➽➽ Scrying As well as other magic associated with reflective surfaces; Phoibe has learned to be able to commune as well as observe the goings on on the other side. She uses this information for her own personal benefits.
 ➽➽➽➽ Adroit Phoibe is well-learned and takes pride in the knowledge she has gained over the span of her life. Whether it comes to her intelligence in mundane things or with her magic, she is skilled in all areas. A jack of all trades, master of none.
 ➽➽➽➽ Eidolic She isn't invisible to others, on the contrary, Phoibe wouldn't be able to NOT be seen. Though she does have a way of collecting information and secrets in such a way that you would think she's hidden in plain sight. Unusual really. Always picking up new bits of information, she isn't one to show her full hand all the time. Instead liking to hold back before making a move. 
 ➽➽➽➽ Spirit Depending on what it is that Phoibe has shown interest in, she has an abundance of "spirit" for it. Which is just a nicer way of saying she is an obsessed fangirl. Whether it's a school couple, a new article of clothing or a juicy piece of information you can bet she is there with all the details. All while posting it online for others to enjoy as well. It gets her into trouble, that's for sure.

 ➽➽➽➽ Restless She doesn't like listening to people talk for longer than a few minutes so she interrupts all the damn time, stops paying attention, gets restless or just walks away completely. Doesn't help that she does this in class as well.
 ➽➽➽➽ Displeasure Patience is a virtue one she toes the line with. Especially when it comes to the flea bags and bloodsuckers of the world...
 ➽➽➽➽ Pride and Prejudice Phoibe holds a lofty opinion of herself and rarely admits to being wrong. Even moreso when it has to do with her family and their extensive and pureblood-esque heritage.
 ➽➽➽➽ Tritanopia A type of blue-yellow color blindness. It doesn't really affect her day to day unless she's needed to distinguish colors that she struggles with. Green–blue, yellow–pink and purple–red.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
⚬ Concerts In Remote Locations ⚬ Trips back home to Visit Family ⚬ Shots of Tequila For The Fun of It ⚬ Gossiping ⚬ Tangled Necklaces ⚬ Lipstick Marks ⚬ Winged Eyeliner ⚬ Lust for Power ⚬ Careful Manipulation ⚬ Windswept Hair ⚬ Over Indulgence in Comfort ⚬ Minimalist Fashion ⚬ Foggy Sunlight ⚬ Naming Constellations ⚬ Everything in its Place ⚬ Guilty Vices ⚬ Bad Decisions ⚬ Lit Cigarette ⚬ Hot Espresso ⚬ Sharp Thorns ⚬ Cherry Bomb ⚬ Candle Lit Dinners ⚬ Broken Promises ⚬ Soft Pillows ⚬ Rose Petal Bubble Baths ⚬ Natural Sunlight ⚬ Thick Forests ⚬

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
⚬ She loves the smell of freshly peeled tangerines ⚬ Can do no wrong but does wrong ⚬ Hides emotions behind a sarcastic smirk ⚬ No patience for those that waste her time or anyone without a spine. ⚬ Constantly texting ⚬ Pride in her appearance. ⚬ A healthy disregard for rules, accompanied by a habit of skipping class. ⚬ Always fashionably late. ⚬ Flirting with those she finds interesting. ⚬ Admiring the moon and stars on clear nights ⚬ Competitive with everything she does. ⚬ Will climb and claw her way to the top. ⚬ Usually has ulterior motives. ⚬ Plays as though no one is watching her. ⚬ Jimsonweed tea on heavy days ⚬ Loose change often jingles in their pockets ⚬ Hardly trusts a soul. ⚬ Showing off whenever the chance arises. ⚬ An expectation of being appreciated.⚬

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ To become truly powerful in her craft and break free of the shadow she feels she is in around her siblings and her parents.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
 ➽➽➽ To rely on others for the rest of her life. To becoming weak and useless. Or even worse the servant to someone below her.

 в í σ g r α p h ч 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
As the middle child of the Graves spawn it was easy for Phoibe to be overlooked. Something she realized, even as a small child, would not be allowed. Always seeking attention - in any way she could - Phoibe would undoubtedly receive that which she craved. It was rewarding; even if it was a punishment. Because now her parents were thinking of her (even just for a small moment). 

This desire to know all and have all materialized at the age of five when she was stuck sitting in the corner - a fitting place for a reprimanded child - and stared into the flames of the nearby candles their mother had lit. Staring, staring, staring little Phoibe made out shapes behind the wisps of red and orange. Heard voices, muffled and distant as if they were far away. Yet, they were familiar. Their neighbors, arguing about something to do with infidelity (she knew not of what that was) and continued to peer into the fire. It held her attention until she was pulled from it by her mother a look of apprehension across her features. While her father only looked on with mild approval. From then on she was instructed to practice and control said abilities. While her siblings dabbled in their affinities; which looked more like playing from her end - she was stuck toting around a fairly large mirror in a bag, constantly being told to practice, practice, practice.   

The attention she so desperately craved was now something she wished she hadn't brought on herself. Wished she could be out from under their gazes, their control. It wasn't fair. Nothing seemed to be just the right amount of... right for the middle child. Too much attention. Not enough. What did she want? What did she want from anyone was beyond her. She was still so young. Eventually, once arriving on the stoop of Hawthorne she came to realize that attention from others was completely different than that of a familial kind. People knew of her already strictly because of her name. 
"One of the oldest wizarding families in the world. The ones that could trace lineage to the Moot and further. They were key components in the process..." all true, of course. And it was thrilling.

People noticed her for her - or so she believed. Turns out with a prominent lineage as her own it only buys followers and those seeking to further gain something for themselves. If they sought to use her they were sure to be mistaken. Phoibe Graves is done seeking the approval and attention from others on what she thinks they want. And has since the age of nineteen, started doing things for herself. Using her power and her name to her advantage she will forge her own way. Anyone dumb enough to be caught in her path will be put on blast. Damn the consequences.

Scry about it, if you want. Not a soul will care.

_______________________________________________

𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖆 「 phi 」 𝖈𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖊  |  pansexual  |   #c41e3a  |  𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊  
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧  

𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖜𝖔  allegedly  |  female  |  5'9"  | 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗
 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵   
☀ Captivating ☀ Romantic ☀ Incisive ☀ Self-Confident ☀ Observant ☀ Versatile
☁ Dramatic ☁ Inconsiderate ☁ Callous ☁ Sly ☁ Acerbic ☁ Hedonistic 
▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ 

⚬ Red Wine ⚬ the renaissance era ⚬ art ⚬ haute couture ⚬ switching things up ⚬ social media ⚬ the smell of old books ⚬ capsaicin ⚬ sour candies ⚬ flying in the middle of the night ⚬ abandoned buildings ⚬ vampire cliches ⚬ balconies ⚬ cacti & succulents ⚬ 

⚬ bland food ⚬ not getting her way ⚬ feeling vulnerable ⚬ heartburn ⚬ makeup malfunctions ⚬ being placed on speaker phone ⚬ complacency ⚬ weremutts ⚬ off brand anything ⚬ unbearably sunny days ⚬ sitcoms ⚬ cheesy romance - but craves it for herself (won't ever admit that though) ⚬ heel blisters ⚬

 s k í l l s  &  w є α k n є s s є s 
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

➽➽➽ Night Flier Because of her ability to turn into a bat - like every other vampire she knows - she is an excellent flier. Enjoying her nightly soars through the sky. Phi is acrobatic and skilled and just enjoys the feeling of the wind through her wings.
➽➽➽ The Finer Things Ophelia has a soft spot for all things of a higher class; clothes, foods, drink, art etc - and even more so for historical pieces. Getting lost in museums and the like is something of a past time for her. She will absolutely gush about historical things if given the chance, and always stop midway to collect herself before continuing. It shows a more... humane side of her that others don't often get to see. 
➽➽➽ Adaptable One would need to be in order to survive in this day and age with how old they are. Phi seems to thrive in new scenarios better than other vampires, it keeps her attention and ignites something in her that is akin to excitement, though she won't ever admit to that. With this adaptability also comes the fact that Ophelia doesn't care to lead others. Though she wouldn't ever call herself a follower either - too close minded - but she is willing to sit back and watch others flail about.

➽➽➽ Are You Talking To Me? Doesn't take criticism well. She will listen to you, but she isn't going to be happy about it. There isn't anything she doesn't know or has thought up. If she hasn't, she will bullshit and lie and cheat her way to the correct answer. If that's the case, keep pressing, it's got her flustered. Otherwise she will just walk away without sparing you a glance.
➽➽➽ Hopeless Romantic What is true love? Phi has no idea. She doesn't think she's experienced it. Or at least not butterflies in the belly, love you no matter what type of romance. How could she when all the eligible bachelors are pompous pricks? Phi would absolutely be over the moon to fall in love with someone like in the romance novels she reads or the movies she watches. It's all a matter of timing at this point.
➽➽➽ Limits  Her hubris is not a boon to her and has and will get her into trouble. Whether permanent or temporary. Phi is entitled and believes that she is above certain types of people. This alone prevents her from branching out with others for the right reasons and it will come back to hurt her in the end. She has patience and humility (to a degree) but even those have their limits.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘
the most powerful force of nature ever to come up against a vampire. one would not want to find themselves in a dear end street or out among the trees late at night with only ONE of those things lurking about. because just like roaches, where there is one there are more. to say the view on the mutts is less than positive would be an understatement. there is a purpose for everything and everyone. including werewolves and the whole were- community. what that purpose is is something along the lines of work related. work horse, work dog - the sentiment is the same. they are not fit to run anything of substance, nor are they poised enough to be the face of anything worthwhile. they are either to be used as servants of the most laboring kind, or they are to be erased from the history books.

𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖘
beautiful creatures of deception and mystery. they aren't so different from vampires. though their methods seem a little... helter-skelter; one can still appreciate an artist at work. shame that a lot of the siren communities stick to bum-fuck areas, making it difficult to get in touch with them. or have conversations. they're useful for sure, but are not so easily manipulated. cut from the same cloth vamps and scales - they wield manipulation and charisma like a finely tuned axe. it is refreshing to have both camaraderie and competition. 

𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘
things that need to be lead. who need to be told what to do and when to do it. else they will fall into chaos and turn on one another, resulting in the end of their species. who better to rule them than those who have been around before them? they are weak, but should they ever know the secrets of the world and band together they would make an unnecessarily difficult foe.

𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖐
not unlike their simple non-magic counterparts, there is actually a use for magic wielders. though it was because of them in the first place that the Moot took place and look at how splendid that went down. if they would just mind their own and stop trying to play politics things would go a lot smoother. but they have a use and place among the other supernaturals. some are even worthy to speak with. though, doubtful it will last long.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
➽➽➽ What is ambition to someone as old as she? What is there left to do that she hasn't already tried and completed? She would suppose still being better than everyone is a good ambition. But so is enjoying life as much as she can for however long she can. 

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
➽➽➽ Being bored with the same old, same old that she has had to bear witness to for the last hundred years or so. It's all so drab. Dying of boredom. Is that a thing?

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
What is life. True living for someone as old as she? One would think that the world is her oyster and traveling the earth and sampling all it has to offer would take someone eons to complete. Doesn't take as long as some would imagine. And if you've seen one place, you've seen 'em all. Or at least... that was the mentality Ophelia held close to her chest. It wasn't that she doesn't travel, or like to do these painfully cliche things, she does, it's just that that is what they are in the end. Cliche.

There isn't a lot out there that can surprise a vampire. Sure there are new apps to hit the online store, new trends to experience. But it is all cyclical and what was old becomes new again and it just. keeps. going.

Old money and prestige get you just about anywhere in life. A statement that rings true across all the species of the world; not just Vamps. Phi will use her status as one of the Caine children; a pureblood family known for having turned their backs on turning mortals once the Moot of the Moon happened. It was a way to save face and all the wealth and connections that had come with their "empire". Phi saw it for what it was. Self preservation. Not that she could blame them.

What else are they supposed to do? Just lie down and die?
"I guess it would be something new to try..."

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

⚬ Red Lips and Dark Clothes ⚬ Unopened Bottles of Red Wine ⚬ Tangled Necklaces ⚬ Lipstick Marks ⚬ Winged Eyeliner ⚬⚬ Lust for Power ⚬ Careful Manipulation ⚬ Deck of Playing Cards ⚬ Bold Faced Lies ⚬ Chess Pieces ⚬ Heavy Fog ⚬ Purity into Corruption ⚬ Everything in its Place ⚬ Guilty Vices ⚬ Dark Sunglasses ⚬ Calculated Glances ⚬ Sunglasses at Night ⚬ Bloody Hands ⚬ Domination ⚬ Bats at Night ⚬ Bite Marks ⚬ Dressed to Impress ⚬ Clever As The Devil & Twice As Pretty ⚬ 

⚬ Arrogant about her skills ⚬ Enticing and intimidating at the same time ⚬ Hardly trusts a soul ⚬ Old books and all the newest tech ⚬ Hopeless romantic ⚬ No one knows anything about her but they all claim to be her best friend ⚬ More than you bargained for ⚬ Keeps you on your toes ⚬ Master of seeming not to care at all ⚬ Constant vigilance and holding others at arm’s length ⚬ Intimidating elegance that promises secrets to be uncovered ⚬ Confidence with every step ⚬ No patience for those that waste her time or anyone without a spine ⚬ Hides emotions behind a sarcastic smirk ⚬ Pride in her appearance ⚬ Flirting with those she finds interesting ⚬ Usually has ulterior motives ⚬ Constantly texting but leaves everyone on read ⚬


^{_______________________________________________} _{𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓 _{「 callie 」} 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖓 \| 𝔟𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩 \| #e97451 \| 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 \| ♀️ \| 5'6" \| 𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ☀ Affable \| Resilient \| Playful \| Enthusiastic \| Adventurous \| Spontaneous \| Fervid ☁ Irresponsible \| Careless \| Scatterbrained \| Impulsive \| Brazen \| Extreme \| Neglectful ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵} _{⚬ bonfires ⚬ fireworks ⚬ fall weather ⚬ dogs ⚬ gardening ⚬ nature ⚬ beaches ⚬ cool breezes ⚬ fresh air ⚬ hugs ⚬ acts of kindness ⚬ free summer concerts ⚬ traveling ⚬ hikes ⚬ camping ⚬ surfing ⚬ pack time ⚬ a good joke ⚬ an even better laugh ⚬ ⚬ waking up in the middle of the night ⚬ losing ⚬ forgetting passwords ⚬ allergies ⚬ spoiling the endings of movies and books ⚬ know it alls ⚬ runny nose ⚬ cracked skin ⚬ sunburns ⚬ clowns ⚬ flying ⚬ peeps & other marshmallow-y stuff ⚬ elevator music ⚬ closed spaces ⚬ cleaning ⚬ mundane shit ⚬ serious situations ⚬ boards breaking ⚬ having to slow down ⚬}	_{s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽➽ Agile & Compact Because of her slim and petite build, she is able to move around quicker and get in and out of spaces with ease. ➽➽➽➽ Up in Arms Always willing to scrap with just about anyone. ➽➽➽➽ Quick Learner She can pick up a concept and idea fairly quickly, so long as she can see and attempt while learning. She's a hands-on type of student. ➽➽➽➽ Worker Bee Her tracking and survival skills are extremely high. She regularly drops herself in unfamiliar territories in order to see how long it takes her to get back to someplace familiar.} _{➽➽➽➽ Clumsy Even though she is agile and compact, Callen also struggles with the fact that she can get tripped up pretty easily and therefore is just as much of a clutz as she is nimble. A lot of the time moving around too quickly and tripping herself up. ➽➽➽➽ Distracted Can easily get distracted when lessons or anything in general doesn't grab her attention - or if she believes she is already knowledgeable in something. There's also the issue of her daydreaming. ➽➽➽➽ Hardheaded Stubborn as a mule, Callen doesn't like to accept or take orders from those around her unless there has been an establishment of relations. And even then she'll be bratty and petty about it. ➽➽➽➽ Chatterbox When someone gets Callen going, it takes a lot to get her to shut up. Even more so when it's a topic that she's passionate about.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{⚬ rolled up sleeves of an oversized sweater ⚬ unwashed jeans ⚬ ornate old fashioned rings ⚬ neat braids ⚬ well loved maps with crumpled edges and faded town names ⚬ an unchanged beside clock ⚬ ignored alarms ⚬ torn shirts ⚬ scuffed up shoes ⚬ burnt matchsticks ⚬ well worn leather jackets ⚬ soft pillows ⚬ warm jumpers from the dryer ⚬ pranks gone oh so wrong ⚬ fireworks in the summer ⚬ bonfires on the beach ⚬ windows filled with plants ⚬ sunlight coming in ⚬ getting lost in the woods ⚬ messy buns ⚬ day trips ⚬ adventure ⚬ photography-filled walls ⚬ hiking bags ⚬ dirty hands ⚬ guitars ⚬ sunscreen ⚬ loud laughter ⚬ overflowing laundry baskets ⚬ empty water bottles ⚬ half finished mugs of coffee ⚬ messy sheets and an unmade bed ⚬ tangled hair ties ⚬ sarcastic remarks ⚬ bandaged fingers ⚬} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{⚬ lips chapped and red from gnawing at the surface whenever lost in thought ⚬ thick brows knit together whenever they’re deep in thought ⚬ calloused fingertips are usually busy dancing across steal strings ⚬ owns more sneakers than heels ⚬ freckles covering every inch of their sun kissed face ⚬ an easy friend to all and just as loyal ⚬ autumn personified ⚬ talking to plants to help them grow ⚬ wolf dogs howling at the blue corn moon ⚬ coming home late from spontaneous hiking trips ⚬ room covered in maps that have markers or pins of places already explored ⚬ usually covered in scratches from tree branches ⚬ could spend entire life outdoors and traveling if given the chance ⚬ always pushing herself and others when on adventures to get to the destination, even when it’s impossible ⚬ loves to go on long road trips and enjoys the scenery on the way ⚬ takes pictures of just about everything ⚬ grows restless if locked up inside for too long ⚬ talks before she thinks ⚬ always has to be moving ⚬} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ Live life to the fullest.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ To never know true freedom.} _{в í σ g r α p h ч} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} Some people get to choose whether or not they want to be a fighter, but Callen Warren didn't get that choice. She was born to a nomadic pack of werewolves, who roamed what remained of the Irish countryside. The Wicklow Pack had fallen under the sway of a new alpha shortly after her birth, and he'd led them against the Academies. For years, the pack stayed on the run, rarely settling anywhere for long. She doesn't remember much about her biological parents, only that her mother was kind, and her father loved to hunt. In her fourth year, shortly after the birth of her younger brother, August, she remembers the flames. The Academy had found them. When the sun rose, the once thriving pack had been reduced to Callen, the baby brother she held in her arms, and six others. The survivors were allowed to reaffirm their commitment to the Academies, and Callen and her brother were taken in by a new pack, led by Romulus Thorne. They were based deep in the forests of Ireland, far as they could be from civilization. The woods they lived in were peaceful, and while it took her time, she came to accept them as her home. Romulus took the siblings under his wing, training Callen in the arts of tracking and survival. He stepped in as a surrogate father, doing his best to guide her through the trials and tribulations that young werewolves must contend with. When it came time to leave for Hawthorne, she went willingly, and with a mind open to adventure. She found it in spades. Callen fit right in with the pack at Hawthorne. Her scrappy nature drew them to her, and got her into more than a few fights with the bloodsuckers. Still, she's made a name for herself as a loyal friend, and a fierce enemy. She's become a den-mother of sorts to the newbies who wind up on Hawthorne's step, guiding them through the pitfalls of the Academy just as Romulus did for her, all those years ago.


^{_______________________________________________} _{𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖎 _{「 lore 」} 𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖘 \| pansexual \| #92f8a3 \| 𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖊 \| female \| 5'7" \| 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ Magnetic ☀ Gregarious ☀ Boisterous ☀ Revelrous ☀ Charismatic ☀ Crow Brained Chaotic ☁ Capricious ☁ Voracious ☁ Indulgent ☁ Emotional ☁ Disorganized ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵} _{✦ vinyl records ✦ collecting things ✦ change ✦ trying new things ✦ making playlists ✦ doing things ✦ upbeat atmospheres ✦ breakfast sandwiches ✦ paranormal shows ✦ electric swing ✦ snakes ✦ mythology ✦ deep poetry ✦ summer nights ✦ festivals & concerts ✦ prefers movies over books ✦ pet names and cliches ✦ jumping in puddles ✦ puzzles ✦ ✦ itchy scales and dry skin ✦ abusers ✦ cake decorating ✦ day time TV ✦ boredom ✦ speed dating ✦ a constant state of blah ✦ things becoming too mainstream ✦ losing out on individuality ✦ not being there for her friends ✦ feeling inadequate ✦ cleaning dishes ✦ being too serious ✦ new car smells ✦ headaches ✦ sun burns ✦ buzz kills ✦ manipulation techniques ✦ feeling helpless ✦}	_{s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ Merfolk Being a siren allows Lore to swim at high speeds, cutting through the water with ease. This also applies to being able to dwell underwater for extended periods of time. Breathing, speaking and seeing underwater is a huge boon when traversing the world via water. Lore excels at water based sports and is a master in the water; feeling most at home in baths, lakes, rivers, the sea etc. Stick her in the fountain and see her happy as a lark. ➽➽➽ Siren Call Lorelei can sing beautifully, it's in her blood. Though there is a certain tone, tune or string of lyrics thrown together that can be used to lure anyone who hears it to do as the singer requests or orders. Still being in the young stages of her siren-hood, Lore can only use this on one person at a time. Still, one is better than none. ➽➽➽ Crow Brained She is extremely ADHD in the sense that many things catch her eye. Especially if they are of the unique or shiny variety. Because of this she embodies Disney's Ariel and her treasure seeking ways. Having always gone off when she wasn't supposed to in order to find new and exciting things. Whether sunk to the bottoms of the sea or on land amongst the mortals.} _{➽➽➽ Dry Scales If she doesn't moisturize, or emerse herself in water - fairly often - Lore will develop dry patches along her body (mainly on the sides of her thighs, her neck and her wrists). These dry patches resemble her scales in a very agitated state and it is quite uncomfortable for her. She tends to stay away from anything that would over dry her skin such as hand sanitizers and other cleaning products. ➽➽➽ Distracted Lorelei is very much scatterbrained and therefore drifts in and out of daydreams; especially when on land. Some professors have resulted into having a tank or a trough in the back of the room just for her to lounge in and pay better attention. she works best with extrinsic motivations. Things that she is interested in, she will focus on. It's everything else that's a struggle. ➽➽➽ Careless She doesn't mean to put people under her powers, but it happens sometimes. More than she would ever like to admit. Humming in the showers or while on walks around town. While shopping or swimming or just in class bored outta her mind. It happens and she doesn't mean nothing by it. It might be a bigger problem than she realizes.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘 not a lot is known about the werewolves from the siren community. only that they were taught to swim as far away from them as possible if ever to come across one. especially those of the feline persuasion. they enjoy fish and fish-like creatures, so it's best not to become too friendly with those who would enjoy sinking their claws and teeth into them. Lore was taught and grew up believing them to be backwards and brutish. though her years at Hawthorne seem to contradict that, and she's enjoyed meeting some of the werewolves she has. would even consider them friends. 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘 beautiful, ethereal. immortal beings that are not unlike her own kind. at least that's what she's heard around the school. well, not in so many words - but she can see the similarities. though she is probably the most weary of them due to their long lifespans and how they can swoop in and out of someone's vision the same way sirens can swim distances quickly. almost as if by teleportation. there is something off about vampires that just... get under her scales. but she likes to keep an open mind. 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖐 probably the most enigmatic of the races at the school. or at least of the ones she's met. Lore likes 'em well enough. it is a bit hard not to tempt them into doing anything really. they're still mortals after all. but they aren't too bad in her opinion. still much they have to learn about the others of the world, but isn't that the case for all in attendance at Hawthorne? 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘 it's hard not to lump them into the category of food and livability. but that is what she sees them as. thanks to generations long ideals that were passed down through the communities and families. but Lore would be remiss to say that she doesn't enjoy learning from them. they have so many ideas - good and bad - but ideas that are new and fresh nonetheless. and what Lore enjoys most is learning. who better to learn from than someone you would least expect? though she is tempted constantly with trying to lure them into the waters surrounding the town and school.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ travel the world. there hasn't really been another ambition other than that. but she has many years to decide on this. for now, she is content to just swim, swim, swim.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ drowning. surprisingly. being torn limb from limb by someone she thinks of as a close friend.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} A doting daughter. One of many of the Galanis clan. Until she wasn't. It was hard to keep a leash on her, though that wasn't what the family was about. They were supportive in her yearning to learn all there was about anything. They made no illusions to the upside of the world and would visit the surface - as a family - regularly. To show and teach their children what was safe and what was not. All in all it was a very formative time of her life. However, there was a lot to the Sirens legacy that was a lot more than singing songs and swimming around freely. And Lorelei came to this realization a lot sooner than others thought she would. And they believed that she would be one to join in on the fun. Luring men and women alike into their clutches, dragging them into the water, holding them under before letting them go. Never truly breaking the laws set in place against killing mortals - though that wouldn't stop all that dwelled within the community. Some of her family members partook in such offenses. It was hard for Lore to see the benefit in it all. But went along with it until she couldn't anymore. Not an easy thing to leave home so young. She didn't want to be a monster. The monster that the mortals make them out to be and yet that is exactly what it was she was. At least under the tutelage of her family. It was blessing she was able to get away. Staying clear away from the warmth of the Greek waters she called home. Eventually her travels lead her to the waters surrounding Scotland, and once she was old enough, Hawthorne Academy called to her; not unlike her own call. And she has been there ever since. _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{✦ handwritten notes ✦ daydreaming ✦ creating personal worlds ✦ positive vibes ✦ playlists for every occasion ✦ scales on her legs ✦ handfuls of flowers ✦ ripped jeans ✦ loud print ✦ lofty grins ✦ singing in the shower ✦ a little broken ✦ bright eyes like sapphires ✦ tangled cords ✦ peace signs ✦ bass thumping ✦ sweat ✦ smell of salt water ✦ little tattoos ✦ messy but lovable ✦ the bustling of a large family ✦ clear skies ✦ counting down to the weekend ✦ distant gazes ✦ twinkling laughter ✦ selfless love (agape) ✦ summer nights ✦ long lasting friendships ✦ swimming for hours regardless of the temperature ✦} _{✦ not sure how but shows up everywhere ✦ responds to everything with peace signs ✦ soft, mellow music when things get too heavy ✦ always asks how your day was ✦ wears a lot of jewelry ✦ eccentric & eclectic style ✦ thrift shopping ✦ stays up so late it's morning ✦ lethargic during the day and wired at night ✦ sees past appearances ✦ gets lost in thought ✦ procrastinates ✦ endings and new beginnings ✦ disappears at random times ✦ fount of random knowledge ✦ light handwriting ✦ always tries to be happy for everyone else's sake over hers ✦ wants to be selfish ✦ smiling at strangers ✦ making promises ✦ running barefoot ✦ crowns made out of seashells and driftwood ✦ unearthed potential ✦ peculiar clothing choices ✦}


^{_______________________________________________} _{𝖕𝖍𝖔𝖎𝖇𝖊 _{「 phoibs 」} 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘 \| 𝔟𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩 \| #ca82a4 \| 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 \| ♀️ \| 5'3" \| 𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ☀ Ambitious \| Tenacious \| Vivacious \| Confident \| Gregarious \| Spontaneous \| Poised ☁ Self Centered \| Voracious \| Overcritical \| Vain \| Dramatic \| Pompous \| Promiscuous ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵} _{⚬ snakes ⚬ soft glow lights ⚬ late night conversations ⚬ sexual tension ⚬ concertos ⚬ going out ⚬ jazz and swing music ⚬ giving gifts ⚬ cooking ⚬ thunderstorms ⚬ smell of coffee ⚬ trying new things ⚬ reading before bed ⚬ dressing up ⚬ midnight snacks ⚬ going to the beach ⚬ stargazing ⚬ shades of copper ⚬ sour candy ⚬ mystery books ⚬ messy vanities ⚬ bubble baths ⚬ silk sheets ⚬ stray cats ⚬ being creative ⚬ gossip columns & blackmail ⚬ ⚬ feeling rushed ⚬ snowstorms ⚬ being stuck at home ⚬ family drama ⚬ having nothing to wear ⚬ disappointing people ⚬ feeling alone ⚬ tight spaces ⚬ feeling uninspired ⚬ sad movies ⚬ worrying about who is watching ⚬ delays ⚬ cheap liquor ⚬ knock off brands ⚬ insects ⚬ being forced to do anything ⚬ the idea of a 9-5 job ⚬ bland food ⚬ slow paced anything ⚬ parameters and limits ⚬ people who smack their food ⚬ strings snapping ⚬ things out of tune ⚬}	_{s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽➽ Scrying As well as other magic associated with reflective surfaces; Phoibe has learned to be able to commune as well as observe the goings on on the other side. She uses this information for her own personal benefits. ➽➽➽➽ Adroit Phoibe is well-learned and takes pride in the knowledge she has gained over the span of her life. Whether it comes to her intelligence in mundane things or with her magic, she is skilled in all areas. A jack of all trades, master of none. ➽➽➽➽ Eidolic She isn't invisible to others, on the contrary, Phoibe wouldn't be able to NOT be seen. Though she does have a way of collecting information and secrets in such a way that you would think she's hidden in plain sight. Unusual really. Always picking up new bits of information, she isn't one to show her full hand all the time. Instead liking to hold back before making a move. ➽➽➽➽ Spirit Depending on what it is that Phoibe has shown interest in, she has an abundance of "spirit" for it. Which is just a nicer way of saying she is an obsessed fangirl. Whether it's a school couple, a new article of clothing or a juicy piece of information you can bet she is there with all the details. All while posting it online for others to enjoy as well. It gets her into trouble, that's for sure.} _{➽➽➽➽ Restless She doesn't like listening to people talk for longer than a few minutes so she interrupts all the damn time, stops paying attention, gets restless or just walks away completely. Doesn't help that she does this in class as well. ➽➽➽➽ Displeasure Patience is a virtue one she toes the line with. Especially when it comes to the flea bags and bloodsuckers of the world... ➽➽➽➽ Pride and Prejudice Phoibe holds a lofty opinion of herself and rarely admits to being wrong. Even moreso when it has to do with her family and their extensive and pureblood-esque heritage. ➽➽➽➽ Tritanopia A type of blue-yellow color blindness. It doesn't really affect her day to day unless she's needed to distinguish colors that she struggles with. _{Green–blue, yellow–pink and purple–red}.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{⚬ Concerts In Remote Locations ⚬ Trips back home to Visit Family ⚬ Shots of Tequila For The Fun of It ⚬ Gossiping ⚬ Tangled Necklaces ⚬ Lipstick Marks ⚬ Winged Eyeliner ⚬ Lust for Power ⚬ Careful Manipulation ⚬ Windswept Hair ⚬ Over Indulgence in Comfort ⚬ Minimalist Fashion ⚬ Foggy Sunlight ⚬ Naming Constellations ⚬ Everything in its Place ⚬ Guilty Vices ⚬ Bad Decisions ⚬ Lit Cigarette ⚬ Hot Espresso ⚬ Sharp Thorns ⚬ Cherry Bomb ⚬ Candle Lit Dinners ⚬ Broken Promises ⚬ Soft Pillows ⚬ Rose Petal Bubble Baths ⚬ Natural Sunlight ⚬ Thick Forests ⚬} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{⚬ She loves the smell of freshly peeled tangerines ⚬ Can do no wrong but does wrong ⚬ Hides emotions behind a sarcastic smirk ⚬ No patience for those that waste her time or anyone without a spine. ⚬ Constantly texting ⚬ Pride in her appearance. ⚬ A healthy disregard for rules, accompanied by a habit of skipping class. ⚬ Always fashionably late. ⚬ Flirting with those she finds interesting. ⚬ Admiring the moon and stars on clear nights ⚬ Competitive with everything she does. ⚬ Will climb and claw her way to the top. ⚬ Usually has ulterior motives. ⚬ Plays as though no one is watching her. ⚬ Jimsonweed tea on heavy days ⚬ Loose change often jingles in their pockets ⚬ Hardly trusts a soul. ⚬ Showing off whenever the chance arises. ⚬ An expectation of being appreciated.⚬} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ To become truly powerful in her craft and break free of the shadow she feels she is in around her siblings and her parents.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ To rely on others for the rest of her life. To becoming weak and useless. Or even worse the servant to someone below her.} _{в í σ g r α p h ч} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} As the middle child of the Graves spawn it was easy for Phoibe to be overlooked. Something she realized, even as a small child, would not be allowed. Always seeking attention - in any way she could - Phoibe would undoubtedly receive that which she craved. It was rewarding; even if it was a punishment. Because now her parents were thinking of her _{(even just for a small moment)}. This desire to know all and have all materialized at the age of five when she was stuck sitting in the corner - a fitting place for a reprimanded child - and stared into the flames of the nearby candles their mother had lit. Staring, staring, staring little Phoibe made out shapes behind the wisps of red and orange. Heard voices, muffled and distant as if they were far away. Yet, they were familiar. Their neighbors, arguing about something to do with infidelity _{(she knew not of what that was)} and continued to peer into the fire. It held her attention until she was pulled from it by her mother a look of apprehension across her features. While her father only looked on with mild approval. From then on she was instructed to practice and control said abilities. While her siblings dabbled in their affinities; which looked more like playing from her end - she was stuck toting around a fairly large mirror in a bag, constantly being told to practice, practice, practice. The attention she so desperately craved was now something she wished she hadn't brought on herself. Wished she could be out from under their gazes, their control. It wasn't fair. Nothing seemed to be just the right amount of... right for the middle child. Too much attention. Not enough. What did she want? What did she want from anyone was beyond her. She was still so young. Eventually, once arriving on the stoop of Hawthorne she came to realize that attention from others was completely different than that of a familial kind. People knew of her already strictly because of her name. "One of the oldest wizarding families in the world. The ones that could trace lineage to the Moot and further. They were key components in the process..." all true, of course. And it was thrilling. People noticed her for her - or so she believed. Turns out with a prominent lineage as her own it only buys followers and those seeking to further gain something for themselves. If they sought to use her they were sure to be mistaken. Phoibe Graves is done seeking the approval and attention from others on what she thinks they want. And has since the age of nineteen, started doing things for herself. Using her power and her name to her advantage she will forge her own way. Anyone dumb enough to be caught in her path will be put on blast. Damn the consequences. _{Scry about it, if you want. Not a soul will care.}


^{_______________________________________________} _{𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖆 _{「 phi 」} 𝖈𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖊 \| pansexual \| #c41e3a \| 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖜𝖔 _allegedly \| female \| 5'9" \| 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ☀ Captivating ☀ Romantic ☀ Incisive ☀ Self-Confident ☀ Observant ☀ Versatile ☁ Dramatic ☁ Inconsiderate ☁ Callous ☁ Sly ☁ Acerbic ☁ Hedonistic ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵} _{⚬ Red Wine ⚬ the renaissance era ⚬ art ⚬ haute couture ⚬ switching things up ⚬ social media ⚬ the smell of old books ⚬ capsaicin ⚬ sour candies ⚬ flying in the middle of the night ⚬ abandoned buildings ⚬ vampire cliches ⚬ balconies ⚬ cacti & succulents ⚬ ⚬ bland food ⚬ not getting her way ⚬ feeling vulnerable ⚬ heartburn ⚬ makeup malfunctions ⚬ being placed on speaker phone ⚬ complacency ⚬ weremutts ⚬ off brand anything ⚬ unbearably sunny days ⚬ sitcoms ⚬ cheesy romance - but craves it for herself (won't ever admit that though) ⚬ heel blisters ⚬}	_{s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ Night Flier Because of her ability to turn into a bat - like every other vampire she knows - she is an excellent flier. Enjoying her nightly soars through the sky. Phi is acrobatic and skilled and just enjoys the feeling of the wind through her wings. ➽➽➽ The Finer Things Ophelia has a soft spot for all things of a higher class; clothes, foods, drink, art etc - and even more so for historical pieces. Getting lost in museums and the like is something of a past time for her. She will absolutely gush about historical things if given the chance, and always stop midway to collect herself before continuing. It shows a more... humane side of her that others don't often get to see. ➽➽➽ Adaptable One would need to be in order to survive in this day and age with how old they are. Phi seems to thrive in new scenarios better than other vampires, it keeps her attention and ignites something in her that is akin to excitement, though she won't ever admit to that. With this adaptability also comes the fact that Ophelia doesn't care to lead others. Though she wouldn't ever call herself a follower either - too close minded - but she is willing to sit back and watch others flail about.} _{➽➽➽ Are You Talking To Me? Doesn't take criticism well. She will listen to you, but she isn't going to be happy about it. There isn't anything she doesn't know or has thought up. If she hasn't, she will bullshit and lie and cheat her way to the correct answer. If that's the case, keep pressing, it's got her flustered. Otherwise she will just walk away without sparing you a glance. ➽➽➽ Hopeless Romantic What is true love? Phi has no idea. She doesn't think she's experienced it. Or at least not butterflies in the belly, love you no matter what type of romance. How could she when all the eligible bachelors are pompous pricks? Phi would absolutely be over the moon to fall in love with someone like in the romance novels she reads or the movies she watches. It's all a matter of timing at this point. ➽➽➽ Limits Her hubris is not a boon to her and has and will get her into trouble. Whether permanent or temporary. Phi is entitled and believes that she is above certain types of people. This alone prevents her from branching out with others for the right reasons and it will come back to hurt her in the end. She has patience and humility (to a degree) but even those have their limits.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘 the most powerful force of nature ever to come up against a vampire. one would not want to find themselves in a dear end street or out among the trees late at night with only ONE of those things lurking about. because just like roaches, where there is one there are more. to say the view on the mutts is less than positive would be an understatement. there is a purpose for everything and everyone. including werewolves and the whole were- community. what that purpose is is something along the lines of work related. work horse, work dog - the sentiment is the same. they are not fit to run anything of substance, nor are they poised enough to be the face of anything worthwhile. they are either to be used as servants of the most laboring kind, or they are to be erased from the history books. 𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖘 beautiful creatures of deception and mystery. they aren't so different from vampires. though their methods seem a little... helter-skelter; one can still appreciate an artist at work. shame that a lot of the siren communities stick to bum-fuck areas, making it difficult to get in touch with them. or have conversations. they're useful for sure, but are not so easily manipulated. cut from the same cloth vamps and scales - they wield manipulation and charisma like a finely tuned axe. it is refreshing to have both camaraderie and competition. 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘 things that need to be lead. who need to be told what to do and when to do it. else they will fall into chaos and turn on one another, resulting in the end of their species. who better to rule them than those who have been around before them? they are weak, but should they ever know the secrets of the world and band together they would make an unnecessarily difficult foe. 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖐 not unlike their simple non-magic counterparts, there is actually a use for magic wielders. though it was because of them in the first place that the Moot took place and look at how splendid that went down. if they would just mind their own and stop trying to play politics things would go a lot smoother. but they have a use and place among the other supernaturals. some are even worthy to speak with. though, doubtful it will last long.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ What is ambition to someone as old as she? What is there left to do that she hasn't already tried and completed? She would suppose still being better than everyone is a good ambition. But so is enjoying life as much as she can for however long she can.} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{➽➽➽ Being bored with the same old, same old that she has had to bear witness to for the last hundred years or so. It's all so drab. Dying of boredom. Is that a thing?} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} What is life. True living for someone as old as she? One would think that the world is her oyster and traveling the earth and sampling all it has to offer would take someone eons to complete. Doesn't take as long as some would imagine. And if you've seen one place, you've seen 'em all. Or at least... that was the mentality Ophelia held close to her chest. It wasn't that she doesn't travel, or like to do these painfully cliche things, she does, it's just that that is what they are in the end. Cliche. There isn't a lot out there that can surprise a vampire. Sure there are new apps to hit the online store, new trends to experience. But it is all cyclical and what was old becomes new again and it just. keeps. going. Old money and prestige get you just about anywhere in life. A statement that rings true across all the species of the world; not just Vamps. Phi will use her status as one of the Caine children; a pureblood family known for having turned their backs on turning mortals once the Moot of the Moon happened. It was a way to save face and all the wealth and connections that had come with their "empire". Phi saw it for what it was. Self preservation. Not that she could blame them. What else are they supposed to do? Just lie down and die? _{"I guess it would be something new to try..."} _{^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}} _{⚬ Red Lips and Dark Clothes ⚬ Unopened Bottles of Red Wine ⚬ Tangled Necklaces ⚬ Lipstick Marks ⚬ Winged Eyeliner ⚬⚬ Lust for Power ⚬ Careful Manipulation ⚬ Deck of Playing Cards ⚬ Bold Faced Lies ⚬ Chess Pieces ⚬ Heavy Fog ⚬ Purity into Corruption ⚬ Everything in its Place ⚬ Guilty Vices ⚬ Dark Sunglasses ⚬ Calculated Glances ⚬ Sunglasses at Night ⚬ Bloody Hands ⚬ Domination ⚬ Bats at Night ⚬ Bite Marks ⚬ Dressed to Impress ⚬ Clever As The Devil & Twice As Pretty ⚬} _{⚬ Arrogant about her skills ⚬ Enticing and intimidating at the same time ⚬ Hardly trusts a soul ⚬ Old books and all the newest tech ⚬ Hopeless romantic ⚬ No one knows anything about her but they all claim to be her best friend ⚬ More than you bargained for ⚬ Keeps you on your toes ⚬ Master of seeming not to care at all ⚬ Constant vigilance and holding others at arm’s length ⚬ Intimidating elegance that promises secrets to be uncovered ⚬ Confidence with every step ⚬ No patience for those that waste her time or anyone without a spine ⚬ Hides emotions behind a sarcastic smirk ⚬ Pride in her appearance ⚬ Flirting with those she finds interesting ⚬ Usually has ulterior motives ⚬ Constantly texting but leaves everyone on read ⚬}

In ʜᴀᴡᴛʜᴏʀɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ [A Murder Mystery, Supernatural Dark Academia RP] → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks

uhhhhh, duh

In A Song of Ice and Fire - the Blackfyre Rebellion → 1 yr ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

Dating back to the First Men, House Lannister has a long and proud history covering thousands of years. Throughout this period they have remained the overlords of the Westerlands, thanks to their status as the wealthiest Great House in Westeros and their ability to command respect and loyalty from their vassals - severely handling those who step out of line.

Their seat is Casterly Rock, a near impregnable castle built into a colossal hill of stone, proudly overlooking the harbour of Lannisport. It is said to stand taller than even the Wall or Hightower of Oldtown, and from atop this great perch they lord over the Westerlands.

Since the bloodshed from Dance of Dragons, and the infamous raids of Dalton Greyjoy, House Lannister of Casterly Rock has spent decades carefully repairing and bolstering their hold across the Westerlands. Repairing the damage done to Lannisport, investing in infrastructure and defence, granting loans (with strict terms) to their vassals, rebuilding their fleet. These have been the major preoccupations for the Lions of the Rock for decades after the Dance, their roar rarely heard outside of the Westerlands in what had become an atypically insular realm. Indeed, when the Young Dragon launched his conquest of Dorne, it was not troops of the Westerlands that bolstered his ranks - though, Lannister gold did fill their war chests.

Only in recent generations have the Lions begun to rise from their perceived slumber. Lord Gerold Lannister - named Master of Coin to Baelor I in recognition of the House’s influence and as thanks for their contribution to the war effort in Dorne - relocated to King’s Landing in 163AC. Brought with him was his son and heir of four and ten, Tytos. The presence of House Lannister was increasingly felt in the capital, with Gerold serving on the small council until 171AC. By this time, the realms finances had been brought to fair order and important relationships built, most importantly the friendship between Prince Daeron and Tytos. Though Tytos would return to the Rock with his father upon the ascension of Viserys II, their strong friendship remained.

After the brief rule of Viserys II followed the long, torturous reign of Aegon the Unworthy in 172AC. The scandals of misdeeds, depravity and excess made for entertaining gossip in the early years of his reign, though things quickly became more consequential for the Lions. When Aegon squandered much of the crown's coin on a ‘grand fleet’ destined to be lost in a storm, he soon turned to the wealthiest of the Great Houses to fuel his decadent lifestyle, bribes and gifts. House Lannister dutifully obliged, and made no objections as dates for repayment slid by without notice from the capital.

When Tytos rode to the capital in the summer of 178AC, determined to raise the issue of crown repayments, he instead arrived to witness a gruesome scene. Sir Terrence Toyne, guilty of laying with Aegon’s mistress, was ripped apart limb by limb while a screaming girl - the mistress - made to watch. Thereafter, both the girl and her father were executed. Brackens, Tytos was told. The King was without limit, and his court more broken than any outside it could have imagined. It did not take counsel from Daeron to have Tytos realise that any attempt to pursue crown repayments was folly. He spent only a few weeks in King’s Landing, associating himself with the growing faction surrounding Prince Daeron at court before returning to the Rock.

Perhaps it was this friendship between Daeron and Tytos that drew the attention of Aegon the Unworthy, or perhaps he would have always acted as he did - but his demands for loans of gold became more frequent, the sums larger, and word occasionally reached the Rock of some insult thrown to them by Aegon at court.

Nevertheless, the Lions of Casterly Rock rode out the storm of his reign from the Westerlands, with Aegon finally meeting his end in 184AC. Since then, House Lannister has maintained close relations with the capital. These have grown only stronger since the passing of Lord Gerold in 188AC, with Tytos taking his place as Lord Paramount.

By 202AC, House Lannister has finally begun to recoup the financial losses with the growing stability of the realm. Not only is it in their financial interests to see the status quo maintained, but with the misrule of Aegon IV fresh in memory, their stance against the legitimized bastards is strong, disapproving of the incomes maintained for them and - in the case of Daemon Blackfyre - of the land granted.

What lays ahead is unclear, but the House of Lannister is determined not to fall quiet as they had during the reign of Aegon. History will not repeat, and they will live by their words, Hear me Roar.

Lord Tytos (53) - Father and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West
Cerelle Brax | Mother and Lady of Casterly Rock
Lyman Lannister (31) | Older brother, Heir to the Rock and lover. A competent strategist and a natural and charismatic leader; it's no wonder why they can't keep to themselves
Ellyn Westerling (26) | Lyman's beautiful and honor - bound wife
Loreon Lannister (26) | Younger brother and The Lion of Lannister. Vain and conceited beyond measure, Loreon is a wild card and loose cannon. Definitely one to keep weary watch over.
Darius Darklyn (40) | Son of Euric Darklyn of Duskendale, Heir to Dun Fort. Husband to Liore Lannister. Brother by marriage to Lyman and Loreon Lannister. Father to Allard, Lionel, Leandre, Lysander, Leona, Lukas and Laelle. Deceased due to tears of lys shhhh no one knows. 
Allard Darklyn (would have been 12) | Died in childbirth. Only legitimate child of Darius.
Lionel Lannister Darklyn (10) | Proper hellion. Longs to be in battle with something or other. More akin to a dragon than lion as far as destructive prowess goes.
Leandre Lannister Darklyn (8) | A Lannister through and through. He has an eye for scheming and plans. Makes what allowance and coin he gets last well into the future. Numbers are fun for him.
Lysander Lannister Darklyn (6) | The enigma. Clay. Fits into whatever mold he's placed in. Takes after his mother on that one. He can be anything he needs to be in order to succeed.
Leona Lannister Darklyn (5) | A true princess in the making. Loves everything girly and proper.
Lukas Lannister Darklyn (5) | Boyish to the ends of the world. Can never keep his new clothes clean for long.
Laelle Lannister Darklyn (3) | An angel. Sweetest toddler to roam the meadows.

29 (born 173 AC)

Strikingly beautiful woman, with golden hair, emerald green eyes, fair skin and a slender, graceful figure.

Born to Tytos and Cerelle, Liore came into the world as calm as a breeze along the coast. Even from birth Liore knew how important it was to blend into the surroundings, to change and adapt to a situation in order to thrive in it.

It didn't take long for the young lion to grow into a beautiful young woman, strong and nubile. She caught a lot of attention from the opposite sex; her older brother was no different. However, their torrid love affair could date back even sooner if one were taking notes. One such suitor was Darius Darklyn of Duskendale. A proud house, stubborn and hungry like herself. In the beginning she was attracted to him, although he was nearly ten years her senior. He was handsome and the few times they had met he was sweet on her. A true gentleman.

Not until after they wed (Liore was only seventeen) did she see the change, the mask he wore cracking and crumbling away. A monster hiding in plain sight. Oh yes, Liore was well versed in how to play a part. She had been doing it all her life. Smile brightly and they will never know the struggles behind it. Cover up so no one suspects foul play. A little fib won't hurt anyone. Yes, Liore Lannister Darklyn knew how to adapt to any situation thrown her way. It was a gift.

Soon after the wedding, Liore was pregnant with their first child - a true Darklyn heir. However, he passed a few hours after birth. Complications they told her. Something went wrong during the pregnancy. Never again did Darius lay a finger on her when she was carrying. Suffice to say it's the reason why she has six children. Though they aren't his.

Regardless of either of them being married, Lyman and Liore discovered that nothing could keep them from one another. Not a wife, nor an abusive husband. And so their affair continued well on into... well it never stopped. When it was uncovered what was going on in the Darklyn clan Lyman and Liore came up with a plan to rid themselves of his presence. It wasn't difficult and it didn't take long before he was out of the picture and Liore was a widowed woman, living at Casterly Rock with her children. And in close proximity to her brother. Easy access for them. It was convincing her father not to marry her off so soon after her late husband's death that has proven to be tricky these last few months. She's managed to guilt him into holding off, but now? Two years is a long time to be without a husband, and her children to be without a father - or so Tytos claims.

How will she get out of it this time?

Liore is willful, ambitious and has a certain low cunning. She is hungry and greedy for power; moreso in the sense of elevating the family's power rather than her own. Though she isn't above putting her needs (and her children's) above even those she holds most dear. Liore is a bit impatient and demanding - especially of attention - and never forgets a slight, whether real or imagined. She weighs her options is more level headed than her brothers (though that isn't saying much). Viewing disagreement as defiance. She believes herself to be subtle and politically astute - as much as she can be given her status, gender and sex. She hates being excluded (from anything) on account of her gender, and resents the customs and conventions put on her because she is female. She thinks of herself as a female version of her father and feels slighted when people do not obey her commands as they would have done for Lord Tytos, but instead give her their counsel, or disagree with her, which she faults on her gender. Liore hates to be second guessed or questioned on her motives and commands. She takes after her father as far as her intelligence goes and implements orders as he would, so why is she the one receiving push back? She also does not shy away from using sex as a weapon or a means of control. Anything to make sure she gets what she wants in the end. Though a lot of the times she isn't enjoying the means to get there.

BBCode Cheatsheet

KZOMBI3 Member

ｔｈｕｇｇｙ－ｌｅｗｄ－ｄｅｒｅ

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts