✦ mama bear ✦ ancient being of the void ✦ sea goat aqua cusp ✦ enfp-t ✦ casual rp'er ✦ justa lewd, crude, funky ass dude ✦ zombies & pirates ✦ not my butthole, your butthole ✦ meme lord ✦ house bolton ✦ release the hound ✦ wheely wheely legs no feely ✦ chaotic evil, javelin wielding, russian centaur bard named katya ✦ complete & utter shiiiiiit ✦ witch doctor or bust ✦ gun totin' texan ✦ yee your haww ✦ hawks stan ✦ dracula scrape and lick ✦ hoss delgado ✦ heavy metal ✦ punk rock ✦ caffeine addict ✦ murder docuseries? yes please ✦ actually an unstable thirteen year old explosives expert ✦ fancy trash, could be considered recycling ✦
Thank you all for showing interest into this lil brain child o' mine! imma leave this up for possibly another week just to see if anyone shows interest over the weekend amd from there i will post up the OOC and more info about the group! Thank you all again!
here an encounter with an enchanted fairy, pirate or mythical creature is expected as you explore any of the 77 acres of land Fairehaven has to offer. Keep your wits about you as you interact with our merry cast of jesters, kings, knights and the ever exotic band of gypsies; for you never know if you'll end up the subject of their teasing or not. Be sure to catch one of our many shows playing at any one of our 19 stages, they're sure to please even the most cantankerous of patrons. Or if action is more your speed, come to the stadium where you can choose you team for the jousting competition and cheer them on as they fight to the death (sort of). Authentic cuisine is as important to the experience as is our garb, m'lord. So come, do stop by one of our taverns where there is an abundance of wenches and ale alike; fancy a mug or two? How about our ever flavorful giant turkey leg? Shopping more to your liking? Not a problem! Shops of all commodities line the streets of Fairehaven. Take your pick. Modern convenience such as cell phones and flash cameras are encouraged, we understand your need to share your experience with those who couldn't make it.
e hope you enjoy your adventures here at the Fairehaven and we hope ye fare well. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Hey everyone! Thank you for your interest. This RP will focus on the employees (actors) and the visitors / guests, during its 50th anniversary; starting with opening weekend. I will be accepting up to 5 visitor / guest characters to stay in the campgrounds (depending on interest levels), as well as characters who perform at the park (there are roles available to choose from). If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, feel free to shoot them my way and I'll help out if I can!
Once I gauge some interest, I'll throw up the OOC with the character sheet and some additional information about the Park itself!
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Upon witnessing her eldest brother stroll in and dodge the putrid fish guts literally painting the floor - an upgrade, dare she say it? - Tlazōlteōtl let out a small squeal of excitement. Completely disregarding her current company for the sake of more pleasing, familial vibes, Tlazōlteōtl popped up from her seat and began making strides towards her dear brothers. Besides, she hardly gets to visit the both of them like this and gods she was going to utilize the opportunity. Xōchipilli had been off to himself, nose buried in his phone; it's no wonder he didn't look up when either his siblings waltzed in, not to her knowledge at least. To be fair, she was a little more preoccupied with trying to catch the attention of a, now, sleeping Greek god... Regardless, she was going to pester him in the meantime.
Tlazōlteōtl plops herself down behind her younger brother, "What's with the face..." though her words seemed to fall on deaf ears as their older brother settles into his own uncomfrtable chair. He acknowledged the both of them in greeting, "Always so formal, achtli," she teased lightly, her own Nahuatl slipping easily from her mouth like water in a free flowing stream. Xolotl questioned them on what the situation had been like up until his arrival, to be honest, she tuned him out for just a brief moment as she allowed her gaze to drift across the room towards the triplets that had fallen asleep atop the tables. If they were any closer they'd be entangled with the other's limbs. Tlazōlteōtl couldn't help but scoff and turn back to face her siblings.
Upon hearing Xōchipilli question her about her pride and joy, the elation that had been slowly dying out 'Stupid Heremes... stupid Kore... fucking ridiculous ughhh!' was now completely snuffed and now suspicion and annoyance danced beneath her skin as she narrowed her eyes in his direction. There were many reasons why Xōchipilli would throw out questions about her business, and none of them involved genuine concern "Business has never been better. I should really thank you for your patrons' for their attendance," she felt as if the two of them were in some kind of cheesy scene in a movie; slitted eyes glaring across the empty space to one another, her arms resting atop her bare knees, body leaning forward into Xōchipilli's personal space. Well, as much as she could regarding these atrocious seats. A look etched across her face that dared him to speak out against her, though she doubted he would. Xōchipilli had always succumbed to his siblings and their whims more times than she could count.
Nothing was able to take place, for the Morrigan, now fed up with the lot of them all, screeched out into the vastness of the room the true reason they were all summoned...
“Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.” “Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”
To say that Tlazōlteōtl was taken aback would be an understatement and not entirely accurate. Sure, she was a little shaken by the idea that one of them was dead, murdered no less. However, she was more indifferent and curious than anything else. It wasn't her pantheon, her family. Why does this concern them? Why does it concern her? If the Morrigan had no idea who committed the crime than she had no way of offering protection to the lot of them, so what was the point?
It seemed that similar thoughts were running through Xōchipilli's mind for he seemed to want to remove himself from ground zero entirely. Get up and walk out of there. Xōchipilli turned to whisper to them in their native tongue, "I'm going now before the Greek gets us in trouble. Come if you want to," before standing to leave and heading back towards the door. She wasn't going to stop him. In fact it seemed like a good idea, wouldn't want to be caught in the cross-hairs, metaphorical or otherwise. Though, just the mere thought of all the delicious scandals and sin and secrets that were bound to come tumbling out of the wrong person's mouth enticed her to keep her position. And between the banshee wailing from Hera, Ares pulling a weapon - and putting it away -and the Romans making an appearance, it was beginning to look like a very interesting and eventful day indeed.
Tlazōlteōtl looked back towards the three mortal immortals still slumbering away. 'With Hypnos at the controls, nothing is going to rouse them...' though she would have just let them miss everything completely if she were back to her usual self. However, she hadn't been her usual self in a very long time. She pointedly glared at Hermes as if he was going to understand that it was his fault. The male was oblivious... she really shouldn't fault him for that. But she was still going to. It was her right. Nothing he does will effect her the way it did back in the 20s... never again. That's what she tells herself at least. A heavy lie, with an even heavier set of consequences.
So, in true Tlazōlteōtl guilted fashion - 'guilted by a silent persona, no less' - gracefully excused herself from her remaining brother and sauntered towards the group of dozing individuals. Their soft breathes intermixing with one another, the soft puffs of air only slightly disturbing the little hairs that dangled precariously in front of them. If she were he usual self the sight of them all snuggled together in such a way would incite a fury that would burn for centuries, she would demand a sacrifice in order to appease her. And even that wasn't a guarantee. She felt it, of course she did, decades of hurt and pining and unrequited love sat upon her chest like rocks determined to crush the remaining breath from her chest. With one glance down onto his sleeping face, however, rendered her disdain a little watered down. Instead of kicking out the chair beneath the stacked sleeping gods, she opted to just smacking the back of Hermes golden locks instead.
A well placed smirk curls her lips as she stares at the scene before her, a taunting lit to her voice as she informs them to, "You're going to want to pay attention." There is still enough of her usual self clawing to the surface.
“Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.” “Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”
The words were not lost on her as she sat in the back, amidst the acrid smells and seething remarks. Before the Morrigan had snapped the string of sanity within her, Comus was about to be on her merry way to mingle with great uncle Zeus and the rest of the party squad. Dare she say she was even a little envious of the attention Ben was showering her professor in. 'She's not even her professor!' she wanted to scream it aloud for all the room to hear and be just as annoyed with her as she was with witnessing the blatant flirting. 'However,' the though crosses between her ears as she thought back to last nights endeavors between the sheets at Casa de Acropolis and a wicked smirk pulled at her full lips.
That is, until those ten little words were spoken into existence and then played on repeat. Hephaestus was dead. Gone. One of them, one of the GODS. Dead. How? Who? When? The voices within her ranted and raged. Even with the howling whispers filling the space within her, time seemed to slow as Comus caught sight of her father slipping through the door. Out of breath and ragged, most likely from a run across campus - he did have a test today - tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, Dionysus had finally decided to grace the rest of them with his presence even if no one else seemed to notice.
Ares had already flipped a table and held a drawn gun towards Shango's face, something that she would have found a lot of glee in bearing witness to 'Another time' a small voice chimes in somewhere under all the screams within her head. While the rest of her family was either throwing out accusations, taking a nap, or just standing there looking like idiots they all failed to notice the young woman nothing new slip out of her seat; albeit not gracefully, but she never claimed to be, and slide into the space next to the god of parties slumped against the wall.
There wasn't anything within her arsenal of talents that could prepare her for comforting her father of all people. The person in her life that is supposed to be the one she goes to when shit like this happens. Instead she just sat there next to him. Eyes staring straight ahead, field of vision consisting of a lot of legs - both of the godly and chair variety. A few beats passed, and it looked like he was about to put away his flask of liqueur, letting his head hang. Comus quickly released him of the burden of his drink, taking a large, long swig - pleasantly surprised to find that he had indeed switched it up and replaced the whiskey for some Ouzo - and let out a long sigh. Tears of her own threatening to break her lash line.
This was so out of her wheelhouse, but she managed to push the tears back, the voices were clamped down on and she muscled through it, a small smile on her face that she hoped translated into her words as well, "You're supposed to be merry and jolly," her voice was on the edge of cracking, even with the low pitch she produced. "Ya know? Partying it up with the co-eds, snorting cocaine off of Diamond's tits in the VIP rooms at Tlaz's place? Skatá... going to fuckin' class? You fuckin' nerd," her chuckle was shallow, like it was caught in her throat, and although she meant the words she still nudged his shoulder a tad, just to jostle him from his pity party of one. With her free hand she ran her lithe fingers through her tresses, coming in contact with more than a few tangles and knots in the process.
A curse or two passed under her breath as time seemed to pass around them. She can't even be sure as to what was going on in the room anymore, just that there were still beings present, their proximity hadn't changed all that much. But the voices, the noises internally... they were starting to settle. Comus liked to think it was because of the booze, but that would be foolish... She turned back to the male besides her, "I know. Me too..." she tapped the flask to her temple, reassuring him that he wasn't the only one suffering, that she was there too, before releasing another sigh and taking another long sip and holding it out for him to take.
Movement and shuffling caught the goddess' eye as a pair of legs, swathed in charcoal grey threaded with deep eggplant sauntered up to the two of them. Comus, who had been sitting with her legs pulled up to her chest, one hand tangled in her hair, the other arm lounging atop her knee, peered up into the face of the man that decided to check up on the two of them. The light behind his head of dark hair made it seem as if he obtained a halo of sorts. An internal snort sounded through her mind at the thought. Hades stood there above the both of them, gazing down at the both of them... no correction, towards Dionysus with such sympathy and concern. The look a father should have when coming to console his child. With warm words and an even warmer embrace. Calming auras and helpful hands. A telltale sign that she had no idea how to be there for someone in a dark time. But, she was affected too... 'the cost of having to grow up too soon?'
And in that moment, Coco felt very much an outsider.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• interactions: @pandapolio, @sly13 if you squint really hard
𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗔𝗦 Arik Börson 𝗔𝗚𝗘 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 49 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗥 'Retired' Business Magnate
To seek out all the knowledge the world has to offer. To obtain to unobtainable. To be able to prevent such a disaster as the erection of the Colossus from ever taking root within the Nine Realms and lording it over the different pantheons and the immortals that reside within them. To destroy the Colossus.
The end of days. Ragnarök. It's not so much a fear as it was when he first learned of the inevitability. However, a millennia or so has passed and though it isn't as prevalent within the forefront of Odin's mind, it is still there. He fears that, upon looking at his fellow counterparts of the opposite pantheons, he will, or rather has, become a lot like them in their relationships with their children. The absentee, the neglectful, the bane of their existence. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗬 Odin 𝗗𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗡 ⋗ Allfather 𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗢𝗡 Norse
In most texts, Odin was depicted as a long-bearded, one-eyed man wearing a broad hat and a cloak, wielding his spear, Gungnir. Something that never failed to make the Allfather smile in mirth upon listening as he sat among the midgardians. However, if he ever did make his face appear to the mortals, and wanted them to knowit was him, Odin made sure to appear as they thought he looked. In his never ending quest to obtain wisdom and knowledge, he sought out Mimir, an extremely wise god in his own right. Mimir possessed the well Mímisbrunnrl; beneath one of three roots of Yggdrasil, said that the waters contained substantial wisdom and knowledge, and if someone drank from the well they would also gain wisdom. Though, Mimir required that whosoever shall drink from the well sacrifice one of their eyes. Odin agreed. A small price to pay for the pursuit of understanding.
Not too terribly long after was Mimir giving counsel to another Aesir god; cheating out the Vanir, was seized and beheaded and then his head sent to Asgard. Upon receiving, Odin took the head, embalmed it with herbs so that it would not rot, and spoke charms over it, which gave it the power to speak to him and reveal to him secrets. He planned on keeping his counsel wherever he went. Anything to have a leg up on information on the other worlds.
Ruling from his throne Hlidskjalf, he was able to observe all that happens in the nine realms. Accompanied by the wolves Freki and Geri, to whom he gives his food for he himself consumes nothing but wine, the ravens Huginn and Muninn, who bring him information from all over Midgard, eyes ablaze like a frozen lake with a fire burning bright beneath it's sheet, Odin ruled over Asgard with an iron fist clad in gold. Though his intentions were noble in all but results. His pursuit of knowledge and wisdom,His intentions were noble, but misguided, and he genuinely wanted what was best for his people and the realms as he sought to prevent Ragnarök (an event that would go on to kill myriads of innocent people including the Aesir and the Vanir) from happening. Centuries of reigning undisputed with unlimited power as well as a lifetime of failed trials however, had gradually hardened him to the point where he was unable, or perhaps, unwilling to accept that his actions and the actions of his fellow Aesir was having a negative effect and was in fact leading them all ironically into causing the very disaster that he was trying so long to avoid.
With the appearance of the Colossus, Odin and the other pantheons were blindsided, metaphorically. Something the knowledge seeker did not appreciate. All the knowledge and wisdom and understanding and he was caught unprepared. He first feared that it was a path of Ragnarök that he had misinterpreted. That must have been it. It was the only logical explanation for this twisted turn of events. And so, Odin's paranoia grabbed a-hold of him tightly, plaguing his mind and the days turned years spent on Midgard among those who worshiped him. ;
Odin spent a lot of his time on Midgard dodging his children, Fenrir and Hel, even his blood brother Loki, all in the hopes to avoid Ragnarök. It wasn't until a few hundred years ago or so that the irrational fears of the end of days and all those involved slowly dispersed from his mind. During those times in which paranoia was all but fleeting, his primal war like urges surfaced and he found himself amidst the bloodied and tired and torn. There were times that one could look upon a battlefield, among those that believed in everything under the sun and those that believed in nothing at all, simply mad ramblings of a soldier who just wanted to make it home... just one more... and see his bright, burning blue eyes shine; covered in someone else's blood. He often took pity on the souls that fought and died alongside him and granted their wishes as best as he could in this new form. It wasn't easy, as there were no Valkyries to come and whisk them away to Valhalla where they would feast for eternity. Moments like those, his mind was calm but his thoughts screamed volumes.
Knowledge is what drove him around the world, amidst the paranoia driven actions, before the Colossus made it difficult to do even that. He became the moniker the midgardians bestowed upon him all those years ago; a traveler. The Traveler. Traversing the entire realm absorbing the teachings of the great minds and putting them to good use; one way or another. However, it wasn't enough for the God. No, Odin craved the interaction among the others like him; other gods - he cared not for which pantheon they belonged to. He saw it as the ultimate cornucopia of insight. Who better to learn new things from than the gods who resided over their own ilk?
Odin was successful in his endeavors and took his learnings and turned it into an empire with which he could live off of. A kingdom among men. An empire built on the collection of secrets and backroom dealings and pouring himself over tomes, scrolls, textbooks, running this body of his ragged just for the mere taste. It all became worth it, when at the turn of the eighteenth century Odin started up an energy company; one that supplied coal gas and coke as well as a publishing house. From there Odin's empire only grew, over the years he was able to establish and run seven other businesses; effectively making the Börson a name known 'round the globe for having their fingers in a number of different pies.
Now, now you can find Arik Börson living it up in "retirement". Though he uses that term loosely. There is always someone somewhere that insists on pestering the Allfather with trivial matters. All of which he is expected to be responsible for and deal with. He will, cause honestly? He detests idle hands. Odin is still a seeker of knowledge and a lot of the times can be found sitting in the back of university classes, absorbing the lessons spouted by midgardians in less than enthusiastic tones, or dancing around his penthouse flat a la Tom Cruise in 'Risky Business'. What does he care? He's retired... he shouldn't be bothered for 'nothing but a good time.
TLDR; Odin = Daddy Warbucks, but with a retired Hawaiian shirt and fruity drinks with lil umbrellas and true seeker of knowledge kinda vibe
Business the night before the Conclave meeting was booming. Patrons from all walks of life were lined up along the walls, standing room only, by the time the clock struck eleven. It was truly a sight to behold, one that made the hairs on the back of Tlazolteotl's neck stand up in excitement. She could practically smell the bills as they fell to the fiberglass platform her girls danced on. Hear the snapping of their G strings back in place, securing their tips to their bodies. It was a shame that her favorite male god wasn't present, he would have brought in even more clientele. Tlazolteotl just sighed, 'What a shame...' Though, to say that the Goddess of Lust was without entertainment of her own wouldn't be entirely true, especially as she eyed the long haired dock worker that just strolled into her club. All muscle and flowing dark locks. It would be a shame to not enjoy his physique on a more, personal level. Not like it hadn't happened before... something for later then.
As the hours dragged on she was pleased to find that the Jaguar hadn't lost it's capacity. The girls pulling their clients to the back as the rooms freed up. There were the few instances where she had to go and forcibly remove patrons from the rooms, a word of warning passing her lips, eyes almost aglow under the saturated lights. A sight for sure seeing as they would agree to just about anything under the current circumstances. With a final warning and nod to her employees she was back to pacing the floor. Dodging and weaving between tables, making small talk with the customers, VIP clients and girls alike. No one was too insignificant for the Goddess to turn and aid. What kind of higher being would she be if she were to abandon her devoted followers patrons in their time of sinful need?
Though the club was meant for eyes to be trained on the spread of supple flesh on display prancing around in their uniforms, or up on the stage, dancing in practiced choreographed steps to their song of choice, it wasn't like eyes didn't wander across the ebony skin of the beautiful bartender in the back. Tlazolteotl would be lying if she said that her own eyes didn't wander back towards her friend every now and again in throughout the woman's shifts. So it isn't uncommon for those same wayfaring gazes to hone in on the owner of the establishment from time to time as well. Tlazolteotl thrived under the scrutiny she gained from her patrons under those low lights. The way her body swayed as she moved, all muscle and tone, curves in all the right places, as if she were a jaguar cursed to walk among mortals. She couldn't contain the grin plastered on her face as she thought about it more, 'How close to the truth they would be...'
The progression of the night ended at closing with Tlazolteotl pulling the god of storms into one of the private booths off of the main room, foregoing the tug of the curtain down in place to obscure them. It's not like they were going to need it. Aching body twist and turned beneath the loose sheet that was haphazardly thrown over the frames taking up the leather couch in the Red Room. There was a comfortable weight resting across her bare midsection, a type of warmth that provided a sense of comfort, regardless of the thin and flimsy linen bunched around their waists. In the midst of her groggy, in between state of restlessness, she could almost smell him, the scent of fresh rain in autumn, the kind with a crisp kinda chill to it, the smell of a warm blanket straight from the dryer, a hint of bite from an old, shelved bottle of liquor. It all came crashing down around her as she turned in his grasp to see the long dark tresses of the storm god and not the wisping rays of sun made flesh.
With a groan and a smack to her face, the filth goddess quickly got up from the makeshift bed, spitting Nahuatl curses in whispered breaths before walking bare as day she was borne into this mortal body of hers pulling her clothes from the night before off the floor and back onto her body. Checking her watch, after securing it to her wrist, she took note that there wasn't enough time to get a proper shower and change of clothes before the conclave was to start. "Ugh, this'll have to do..." and without another word she pushed past the draped velvet curtains and made a straight shot for the bar.
Not even ten minutes later and she was brandishing a quick cup of coffee, heavy on the whiskey and cream, and starting on her way back to the red room and kick Raijin awake if she needed to. They were going to be late if they were to fuck around any longer. Not that it wasn't appealing, but there was a certain someone she was looking forward to seeing a little more than pleasing her current suitor. Her gait increased at the sound of something, or rather someone, hitting the ground with a clatter.
When she rounded the corner she was graced with the ass end of a very, very naked man and she could do nothing but lean against the frame, mugs in hand as her eyes scanned the sculptured body she had the pleasure of sampling the night before. His muscles flexed, satin bedding scattered beneath him, as he pulled himself up off the ground rubbing his face, a grin - or what could count as one - plastered on his face as he uttered an endearing nickname her way, reaching out to take one of the mugs off of her. "Hey yourself. C'mon, get dressed. We'll head to the university together." With that she left him to his drink and to dress as she went to the backroom and touched up her makeup. No sense in looking completely sexed up while walking into the conclave. She had to laugh at herself in the mirror, 'Not like they won't know.'
Arriving to the conclave in time was something of a miracle, what with the incessant teasing going on between the two of them along the way there. However, as disheveled as they were, her more-so than him it seemed, and the stench of liqour and sex clinging to the fibers of their person, they walked through the doors of the room rented out specifically to house the gods for this dog and pony show. It was all just a way to throw blame onto one another in the event that something horrendous took place, of gods forbid they take the credit of something great. 'We'd never hear the end of it,' she was thrown back to a time when the Greeks took credit for all things, positive and negative. This was likely to be the same situation.
And just as she predicted, as soon as the two of them walked through those doors, one right after the other, they were under the gaze of a few, scrutinizing them - for the better part of knowing their dalliances or not, Tlazolteotl couldn't care less. She was not one to shy away from the spotlight. However, it was one god's thoughts and input she craved the most. If nothing else than to get him riled up and a tad bit jealous. A long shot, yes, but worth a shot regardless. As she walked through the room she took note that she was seated next to her late night confidante. Subtly be damned as she sent Hathor a thumbs up, which she's almost positive resulted in an eye roll from the goddess; Tlazolteotl was sure to get an earful in the near future. For now, she was content in glancing back over towards the Herald of the gods, desperately hoping that she had at least made some sort of impression on him. The same way he did all those years ago...
+ confident | observant | cool, calm & calculating | ambitious - arrogant | bitchy & irritable | manipulative | questionable & untrustworthy ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ α p p є α r α n c є ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵
ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ꜱʜɪᴛᴛʏ ɢᴏᴛʜ ɢɪʀʟ. Curvaceous, thicc girl with a little pudge that she pretends not to care about but is constantly on the lookout for remedies to fix. sigh another time, perhaps. standing at a whopping 5'5 - 5'8"+ depending on her shoes. long, wavy locks the color of fresh ink - not unlike the ink littering her body - cascades down to the middle of her upper back, the underside is buzzed short. but the length is kept atop her head so that she can look somewhat presentable; should high society call for it. skin permanently kissed by the sun that gives her a subtle bronze glow, creating the illusion that her tattoos are alive. breathing even. depending on how you look at them. some observable, some not so easily spotted. freckles dot her body, but the more noticeable ones would be the ones that occupy the space under her eyes and atop her cheeks. she's actually quite pleased and proud of those. her eyes a mossy green, but when the light catches it juuuuust right, they almost seem like crystallized honey.
Full lips, always painted in some shade of color, typically in darker tones; but she isn't one to be too picky. full brows, long lashes - all natural - she'll be the first to assure you. though, should she choose to pay for such amenities, she totally could. her septum is pierced along with sporting dolphin piercings.
Phoibe can be spotted strolling through the town or on campus in her usual attire of what looks to be uncomfortable attire. though it is very much comfortable; at least it is to her. her fashion jumps around from being sleek and put together to being messy and grungy. she’s not a fan of preppy, frilly styles. fishnets and other leggings and hosiery is a staple. she has a small collection of platformed shoes of different style - but a collection nonetheless. Rings and different necklaces and bracelets line her appendages. something that she is prone to fiddling with whenever the subconscious need arises which is a lot of the time. very much plays into the wiccan and romani vibes that she embraces of her culture.
➽➽➽➽ Patience is a virtue; one that she toes the line with. Especially when it comes to the bible thumpers in town... ➽➽➽➽ Tight, enclosed spaces are NOT her friend. She will do anything she can in order to prevent being in a situation that would call for small spaces. She even sleeps with her doors - and sometimes windows - open. It's gotten better since her youth. But one doesn't just simply forget the feeling of being buried alive ➽➽➽➽ "Suffers" from 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 | blue and green, red and purple, yellow and pink ➽➽➽➽ 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 ➽➽➽➽ has the tendency to overshoot, normally doesn't disappoint, but she aims higher than she should and is always trying to impress people [ this usually results in long lectures about arrogance or the possibility of failure to which she responds with "But did I fail? No." ]
➽➽➽➽ There haven't been many people who Phoibe hasn't been able to con, blackmail charm into purchasing some kind of service and / or good from her and her family's little in-home shop. ➽➽➽➽ Phoibe is really good with calculations and not just with numbers ➽➽➽➽ She can read your palm, give lessons on love and relationships, tell the future in your cards... a lot of cliche "gypsy" practices though there is something about it all that is electrifying and sparks up her spine anytime she puts her talents to use | she's damn good at it and can play it off just well enough that no one can tell is it real? or she just that good at playing the right notes? ➽➽➽➽ She is well versed in Romani spells and curses, talismans and holistic approaches to the different situations life throws. Something she is very proud of. It's all an ancestral and heritage nuance according to her family; but she knows the truth and is so tangled into the lore and history and learning of it all she can't simply stop - now can she?
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♡ spicy foods ♡ getting tattoos & piercings pain kink? ♡ the smell of gasoline ♡ getting what she wants ♡ dark chocolate ♡ impressing people ♡ horrible, trashy B rated horror films
☒ sequin ☒ eating noises ☒ not getting her way ☒ scratching records ☒ white wine ☒ midday boredom ☒ daytime tv
➽➽➽➽ snooping around town, always looking for spooky and supernatural ➽➽➽➽ tarot and palm reading to anyone at the campus ➽➽➽➽ collecting crystals & enamel pins ➽➽➽➽ hiking around town, around the beach and near the edge of the town is probably her favorite spots
➽➽➽➽ depression, superiority complex, mental instability that goes untreated and misdiagnosed as multiple personalities it's the spirits, honest! claustrophobia
➽➽➽➽ absolutely not. what's the point? especially since it wasn't in the returned spot when she went to grab and use it herself. she would however make sure it wouldn't roll back into her once she turned her back to it. like sticking up on the curb of a median where there's those little grass patches? yeah. there. it's just chaotic neutral enough.
➽➽➽➽ she injured her right knee when she was younger; slipped on some barnacles down by the wharf and it never healed properly. so, when the weather is cold and acting up, so does her knee - slight limp, agitated swelling that sort of thing ➽➽➽➽ hates the idea of crying in front of anyone. will avoid it at all costs ➽➽➽➽ always fidgets with her lip piercings when bothered or nervous ➽➽➽➽ her major at Blackmoore is Business Management with a minor in Paranormal Science / Parapsychology ➽➽➽➽ natural born peddler and will blackmail and swindle you of your coin or other valuables ➽➽➽➽ Phobes has tried numerous times seven to be exact to sell Leader some sick looking crystals, a personal talisman bauble, as well as the ever essential loose tea leaves - both for their special properties and strictly to enjoy when the need arises. All in vain; probably why she was so attracted to them. They were the only one to successfully withstand her snake-oil salesman charm.
➽➽➽➽ What would it take to convince them to kill an innocent person?: she thinks she's already done so. she would have to be fully convinced that they are or would be a danger to her and those she holds close. ➽➽➽➽ Would they ever resort to cannibalism in a desperate situation?: if it was absolutely necessary, she s'pposes so. ➽➽➽➽ Would they ever resort to cannibalism in a non-desperate situation?: no, not willingly. ➽➽➽➽ Does your character enjoy inflicting pain upon others, or having pain inflicted upon them?: a little bit of both. because there are those who absolutely deserve the unrelenting crack of a whip. and not always in a good way. as it pertains to herself? with the amount of tattoos and piercings she has, there has to be some kind of kink involved in it all. right? ➽➽➽➽ Has your character ever committed any crimes? If so, what were they? How severe?:∴ arson tho she wasn't caught ∴ breaking and entering ∴ trespassing ∴ theft ∴ possession of illegal substances ∴ peddling stolen goods ∴ murder ???
➽➽➽➽ Everyone wants something from someone and always at a steal. It just so happens that I happen to get exactly what I want at exactly the right price. Toss around a few blackmailed secrets here and there, planting and picking up little tells, eerily accurate readings and you can get these Bible pushers to do almost anything you want. There isn't anything that can't be leveraged out of the people of Blackharbour. They just need the right... motivation. ➽➽➽➽ If the world ended, or was about to end, what would they do?: Anything and Everything and Nothing at all. Drugs, sex, vandalism... small time shit. Really? I just want to have some me time. Enjoy a fresh danish from the cafe down the street, not the mainstreamed one. Ew, they don't make anything right. The mom and pop shop. Swindle a few poor suckers out of their last dime, for old times sake~ before curling up with my favorite set of cards at the Leap, overlooking the water. Peaceful. Routine. Organized in all the chaos. ➽➽➽➽ Would they like to be a Hero?: Absolutely not. Phoibe Graves isn't anyone's hero. Not even her own. To suggest the question proves you know nothing about the youngest Graves child.
➽➽➽➽ Technically Catholic, but part of the open societal faith that "they are all stars scattered in the sight of God" so take that as you will... ➽➽➽➽ On a scale of 1 to 10, how strong is their Faith in that which they worship?: About a 7. There's clearly room for improvement. Everything can be improved upon. I suppose even myself... but why would I do that? ➽➽➽➽ On a scale of 1 to 10, how strong is their Faith in themselves?: A rocking 11 baby. I'm the queen. ➽➽➽➽ On a scale of 1 to 10, how strong is their Faith in others?: In a select few? Its roughly an 8... like the Club. I can safely measure them in that range. However, my faith in others is more of a 5 or lower. No one is truly worthy of my time, unless ye be worthy. ➽➽➽➽ Does your character consider themselves a sinner?: Who among us is not? ➽➽➽➽ Why?: Her thoughts alone; the fact that she is willing to blackmail, swindle, trick and con people out of their money for simple tips and tricks and not feel the slightest bit guilty.
what the hell happened...
Phoibe Graves, seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. The epitome of cursed. Originally hailing from Salem, Mass. she and the rest of her family moved to Blackharbour when she was about eleven. Strange place with even stranger people coming into their town soiling their wholesome Christian values with their Romani ways. Of course the Graves were seen as nothing more than a stain to their society. But that didn't stop the locals from seeking the family's guidance and counsel and herbs when it suited them the most. It's not like they were complaining, money was money and if these pretentious Blackharbour folk were willing to part with it, so be it. They had already arrived to the town with a fair amount of coin lining their own velvet pockets, but there was always more to be had. Taking up residence upon the top of the Leap in Hightown. The monetary status of the family seemed to have helped them within the societal brackets with the locals. Something they were pleased with.
The family has made their wealth in a multitude of ways; her father was a broker by trade, always flying out for business, never could be one to stay in one spot for longer than a weekend. Her mother; a Madame of their ancestral craft, which is just a fancy way of saying she's a really, REALLY good con-artist. Though there is some truth to things she spouts off and peddles. It's not like the marks are going to be able to tell either way. The first three Graves children were victims of childhood illnesses and didn't live much past the age of five. Her two eldest sisters however, they continue to live in Salem and will stop by every now and again - only if to beg for money. They didn't inherit the craft their mother so lovingly offered to teach. Instead they married and live lives as stay at home mothers with blogs. Ugh. The only other daughter that lives there in Blackharbour, is one that did learn the craft alongside Phoibe. Talented she is, though there is an ever ongoing competition between the two girls as to who is the better. Something that results in a lot of arguments and petty disagreements. None in front of the customers.
The Graves women host their clients in the parlor room on the first floor of their three storied Victorian home. Incense burners, hanging from the ceiling as well as position in pots of varying sizes around the room, silks and other fine and soft linen draped across the backs of chairs and walls. Pillows of different decor and styles line the floors and backs of wicker and wood chairs, tables here and their stationed almost like shelves would in a store aisle, littered with a multitude of different trinkets and baubles and tomes and books. Things for show or things to be sold and bought? Why not both? If it is to help ease the troubled and weary souls that come walking in through their doors looking for help, then so be it.
Joining the Occult Club wasn't something she actively searched for. It was by pure happenstance that she came across the little haven for souls such as hers. The leader, as they liked to refer to themselves, was an enigma in their own right. But who among them wasn't? Wasn't that the whole point of them starting up this club? She soon found out that, no. That was not the original purpose. But it soon could be... the lot of them got along well. Almost too well. Phoibe was in a constant state of practicing her pitches and tactics to get the other members to buy into her bullshit Faith. A lot of the times it worked, save for a few Adept. It was a safe space, but also a place that made the chaos within the seventh of the seventh feel as if there wasn't any chaos to be had that she didn't actively seek out herself. And that made the coolness within her thaw just a bit.
After having laughed her way out of the bathroom Comus made sure to snatch a few more pieces of bacon on her way out the door, dodging a petite redhead that looked a little too peppy for even Coco's liking. She did however have her hands full and Comus is nothing if not generous. A quick, "Let me help you with those," was falling from her pale painted lips and she was grabbing one of the cups from the young woman’s grip, not at all ignorant of the pointed stares she was granted. Some mumbled words of thanks were uttered and before anything else could transpire, Comus planted a quick kiss to her cheek and she was out the front door.
The crisp autumn air bit at her exposed skin and she was kicking herself for forgoing her leather jacket back at the Acropolis, “Skatá...” the warmth in her hands doing nothing to help keep the chill from traveling up her spine, nipples hardened from the exposure.
Comus continued on her way through the streets, bobbing and weaving through the steadily growing crowds occupying the Seattle sidewalks. Mortals are too busy with their noses in the phones either catching up on the latest news and trends or conversing with late night lovers and friends alike. It didn’t matter, it was all the same. The coffee in her hands was quickly downed and just taking up space in her grasp, something to do with her hands as she strode towards the university.
Flashes of the last conclave meeting jumped to the forefront of her mind, souring her mood. How could she forget that the Morrigan, along with half a dozen other gods, threw her name into the lotteries accused of starting the last great war. ’Gamiméno geloío’ Which must have translated quite easily to her features because she garnered more than a few uncomfortable glances her way. Honestly it could have just been her attire, it was a lot of older mortals who were the ones to give the odd looks... She wasn’t alone with her thoughts for very long, having noticed a black Mercedes tail her a good two blocks ago. The vehicle slowed down and as soon as the grecian beauty spotted the driver the muscles in her body began to ease out of their tension. At least somewhat. “Heya Hel, you come here often?” Body language teasing and suggestive just as her tone, but what was anyone to expect coming from Comus? Chastity and naïveté?
“Not really.” Hel answered through the opened passenger seat window with a faint smile, ignoring the suggestive tone Coco was using entirely. Her features hadn’t changed in the last few decades. Her eyes were still sunken and sullen, yet the sapphire color in them was bright and full of life. As if she was both deadly tired and brimming with energy. She looked pale and gaunt, and had seemingly forgone make-up all together. None the less there was an icy beauty to her still. The goddess looked at Comus with a worried expression. Like a mother who had finally found her child after a long night searching. “Do you want a lift? I was told it’s cold today…” The car would’ve been as cold as well, as Hel rarely felt the freezing temperatures of Seattle during winter. It was only after she spotted the half-dressed goddess that she began to blast hot air throughout the car. Though again, she could hardly gauge how warm it was now. “…and a girl like you shouldn’t walk alone on the streets.” There wasn’t an ounce of chastisement in her voice. Only worry and kindness. On the speaker system of the car you could hear the soft, droning Norse music Hel was so fond of, and of which she had been slowly and softly singing along for the past half hour.
The dark, dry sounds of the culturally appropriate music seemed to calm the small turmoil within her as she just smiled towards the older woman, “A ride would be lovely.” With the door soon unlocked, Comus found herself climbing into the luxury car, the leather seats squeaking under her movements and she stifled a chuckle, the gang would have made an inappropriate comment at the noise alone. Like she would be any better. As soon as the seat belt clicked into place Hel pulled away from the curb and they were off down the road.
It was very unlike Comus to be silent in the presence of others, but there was just something about hitching a ride with Hel, specifically, that just felt like she was riding with her mother to school. There was a calmness in the relatively silent cab, enough to prickle the hair on the back of her neck. It just felt like she was in trouble. Like she had been caught sneaking out in the middle of the night. “So, uh, what do you think the meeting’s about this time?” Coco tried to keep her voice even, body threatening to sink into the warmth surrounding her, but she couldn’t afford to lower her guard in the company of a god from another pantheon. Even if it was Hel.
The ruler of Helheim had no such reservations. Ancient prophecies that foretold her and her kin’s doom now served as her protection. She couldn’t be present at Ragnarok if something had happened to her. And the prophecies were clear in her presence. At least at the start. Instead of guarded she felt good, happy perhaps, to help out a fellow deity. Mortals were… tough to care for at times. The dead were easier. There was more time, more patience, more space of kindness and understanding. It gave her purpose and satisfaction. Not a day went by that she did not yearn to return to her frozen realm. In that place, there was even room for silence. Comfortable, contemplating silence. Quite akin to the silence inside the car.
Which was soon broken by Comus. Hel did not blame her for it, though she was much worse at small talk than silence. “I don’t… know for sure.” The goddess of the dead admitted. Some time ago she thought she felt something happen. An unnatural shiver had traveled through her whole body. It felt like an omen of something terrible. Something grim, even though she could not pinpoint what it exactly was. Though she did not want to laden the pretty goddess with such grim thoughts. “So how are you doing… In Seattle, I mean?” She said, attempting to switch the subject, with a reassuring smile. While at the same time hoping the girl was comfortable. Was she warm?
Being asked about herself was something Comus was good at. Great even, if she were to brag. Which she did. It also helped that speaking about something that wasn’t conclave related was just what she needed to keep her mind off of the shit show that was bound to take place within the hour. Taking a steadying breath she began spewing anything and everything; it wasn’t until she paused for air that she grimaced at the thought that maybe she was talking too much. She knew enough about the goddess to know that she wasn’t one for the company of the living, at least not in the same ways that Comus was, and therefore wouldn’t really care to listen to her recalling the time that the party squad got shitfaced and tried to extra money from an ATM using Yugi-Oh cards, or the armpit smelling competitions that take place a little too often for her liking.
“Sorry…” she muttered under her breath turning to look out the car window, head in her hands. The comfort of the car’s warmth was well appreciated and she made sure to mention it to the goddess before another small silence engulfed them. But silence begets thinking. And in this instance it is not something that Comus desires, so she once again breaks into the space between them, words tumbling from her mouth as she slowly turns her attention back to the blonde woman, “So, umm, what about you? How’s Seattle been for you? I mean, you must be doin’ well to be driving this baby around on a daily!” Affectionately running her fingers over the stitching of the seat beneath her a reminder that not all the gods were on equal footing here amongst the mortals. A bittersweet thought.
The next few minutes were quiet again. Hel was about to tell Comus she could keep talking if she wanted, when the Greek goddess turned the tables on her. One thing Hel genuinely just sucked at was talking about herself. What was happening in her life? Same old really. Talking with the dead. Tending to the cemetery. Dissecting bloody corpses. Cooking, a little bit. Now that she started thinking about it, those were the same things she did before in Washington. Before that only the dissections were new. And before that… nothing changed. She came to earth and just started working in graveyards. Waiting for the inevitable to happen while simultaneously trying to keep her mind off it. “I… guess not much had changed.” She admitted, rather absentmindedly. “Just same old routine.” No sleep. Only work. Hel couldn’t remember the last time she had slept. It must’ve been early spring...her eyes grew a little heavy. Realizing how long it’s been. Was she tired? What even was tired? Maybe tired was her normal now? Could she know?
Tires shrieked, horns were honked, lights flashed. Hel’s eyes went wide open. Realizing at the pivotal second that she was about to slam into the car coming from the other side. She swerved, dodging the car. Turning sideways. G-force threw her against her own door. Momentum threw the Mercedes towards the parked cars on the side of the road. Incomprehensible computer systems took over. Making sure all four screeching tires remained on the ground. The steering wheel was flung the other way as Hel slammed and pulled every break there was in the car. It stopped, standing straight on the road again. It all happened in less than six seconds. The car she had nearly rammed passed her showing something obscene. She hadn’t seen it though. She was still shocked, wide eyed and breathing heavily behind the wheel.
An elated shout had escaped her lightly painted lips as soon as Comus could feel the jolting of the vehicle beneath her, as if she were in the first cart of a roller coaster, and she had just hit the tippy-top and the drop was soon to follow. Along with her shrieks of joy and merriment Comus threw her arms into the air, or at least as high as she could given the cramped confinement of the cab. With the car back in it’s forward facing position, both goddesses staring straight ahead, clothing ruffled, hair tousled, Comus could feel the shock coming off in waves from the woman beside her. “What a rush,” she squealed brushing her tresses from her face and turning to look to the driver, ”Hey, you alright? You look like death warmed over…” a small chuckle passing through her at the senseless joke.
It took a second before Hel had processed everything. Including what Comus had just said. She blinked three times before she shook herself up from the daze. “Yeah… yeah I’m alright. I’m…- I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to get you in danger.” Slowly she started the engine again and continued driving. Wide awake now. When they were on a straight bit of the road she turned to look at Coco. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Not feeling dizzy? Not feeling nauseous? Tell me if something’s wrong.” Guilt washed over Hel, which was quickly turned into overly motherly worry which she projected towards the young-looking goddess. She kept up the barrage of questions, asking about every specific body part and if ached, felt warm, felt numb, broken, bruised, stiff. Pondering on whether or not she should just turn around and head for the ER. Perhaps luckily for the both of them the college where the conclave was to be held was looming in the distance.
“Whoa, whoa!” Comus turned in her seat so she could face her, “I’m OK. Seriously. If anything I’m feeling more like myself because of it!” She didn’t need to elaborate, she hoped, for the other goddess to catch her meaning, though she was honestly a little more than grateful for the near death experience. It energized her. Refreshed her, similar to the ragers she and the others throw and partake in. Makes her live like she did in the old days, when she was free for the most part to cause chaos as she saw fit because she was bored and it was something fun to do. Something that that cup of coffee from this morning could never hope to hold a candle to.
As the adrenaline coursed through her veins she was vaguely aware of the motherly tones and concern being shown to her. Something that she wouldn’t forget. It was something not even her own mother would have shown her - let alone her father. ’No… gotta remember that he’s trying… not like he knew...’ Her heart thumping, skin prickled with goosebumps not associated with the chill of the outside air and her nerves buzzing she reached forward and grabbed Hel’s hand with both of her own and gave her a reassuring squeeze, “Thank you.” was the only thing she could coherently utter that would convey her sentiment to her. She hoped at least, spotting the university’s parking lot come into view.
“Are you sure?” Hel pressed at first. Though then she realized to whom she was talking to. The rebel. The living embodiment of excitement. What just happened… Yeah. It made sense. In a weird way. “Okay. Okay.” Hel repeated, reassuring herself as much as she tried to reassure Comus. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down a little. To little avail really. The guilt didn’t want to go away. Not until Coco took her hand. Hel nearly jolted from the touch. But then she relaxed. Her nerves calmed down as the girl thanked her. With conjured up a small smile on Hel’s face. Somewhat at ease she pulled up into the university’s parking lot and found a spot to squeeze the car into a parking spot.
When the two goddesses got out, it instantly drew the attention of everyone in sight. A big black car. Two hotties, one clearly older than the other. One dressed… provocatively. It raised questions. Hel didn’t care. “Oh wait!” She quickly said as Comus got up. She opened the car’s back door and pulled out a long, thick, high-class wool coat. It probably didn’t look as edgy or rebellious as the leather jacket Comus no doubt wore. Nonetheless Hel threw it over the car at Coco. “To keep you warm to the door and well… in case you decide to take a walk after this is done.” She said with a small smile. Ready to let the goddess of parties go. Surely she wouldn’t want to walk into the Conclave next to Hel. At least not if she wanted to keep up a reputation. Hel wasn’t sure if she did. Still, few people chose to be near her for very long. It was normal. She cared for them. Nurtured them if possible. And then she let them go.
Looking down at the coat gripped in her clutches, the soft yet coarse fur brushing under the tips of her fingers, Comus couldn't help the swell in her chest. The warmth of the fabric she slipped over the sheer mesh she wore, was little compared to the pure concern radiating off of the older blonde. That alone made Comus’ heart soften ever so slightly, as she nodded and bundled herself a little deeper into the coat tossing a “I’ll catch you inside,” over her shoulder before she began her trek towards the meeting.
It didn’t take her nearly as long as she thought it would have, to find the room where the Morrigan had decided to set up shop this go around. Upon entering the room Comus could feel the heat pouring off of her body, the heater must have been kicked into overdrive, that coupled with the amount of other bodies in the room made for a very, very warm Coco. She removed Hel’s coat, making a mental note to return it to her when she walked in. It was sure to raise some brows. For now, she preoccupied herself with stealing a few sour gummies from Hermes before sitting towards the back of the room, feet propped up on the table in front of her, legs crossed at the ankles.
Hel watched Comus go for a bit, until she turned around to lean against the car. From her pocket she pulled a cigarette and lit it. Billowing out that first puff of smoke. She didn’t particularly like smoking. Nor did she love it. It was just something to do when you wanted to be alone but not appear that way. In the past century smoldering tobacco had become a loyal companion. It just allowed you to wait, in silence. When, after a slow burn, the cigarette was burned up she put it away. Ready to be thrown out in a bin, not on the ground. People who did that disgusted Hel. With that, enough time should’ve passed to appear as if she and Coco had come in separately. To her own surprise, still quite a few heads turned to look at her. Probably assuming she was some hot guest speaker. It didn’t take long before she found the room to which The Morrigan had called them. Probably thanks to the fanfarious way others had entered, Hel could slip in almost unseen. Quietly making her way to her spot.
As soon as Comus caught sight of the goddess who was generous enough to pick her up earlier that morning she jumped up from her lounging position in the back of the room and made a beeline towards where Hel had sat down, coat in hand. “Hey,” she called out to the woman, a small smile on her lips, free arm waving erratically. As erratically as one could in a room slowly filling up. In no time at all she was besides her intended target, shifting the coat between arms, choosing to instead hold it out to her, “Thanks again, for well, everything this morning. It was a shit ton more fun than me just wandering around the city. Next time you wanna crash a car, lemme know, ‘k?” Coco couldn’t keep the laugh from bubbling up, a small indication that the adrenaline from earlier was still present.
For a second Comus startled the goddess. She didn’t expect to be approached right now. Perhaps only by her father? Not by the young goddess though. “Oh…” She said, completely surprised by the kindness of Coco. Though it made her smile a little bit as well. Quite embarrassed she looked down at the carpet as Comus mentioned the near-car crash. “I will.” She joked, before looking up to face Coco. “And if you ever need a lift, just call me.” Hel took the coat, but then wrapped her arms around Coco to give her a deep, close hug. Sadly, Hel was not known for her warm hugs. The embrace of the dead had a chilling effect. No matter how much her heart wanted to give hugs that were comfortable and pleasant, they’d always be frigid. Numbing, when they have to. But not always. Realizing that, she quickly released Comus again. “I’m sorry. I-I should take my place. Take care Comus.” With that said she gave her a small kiss on the cheek and passed her by to find her seat.
The feeling of Hel’s abrupt embrace was something that she didn’t expect, as cold and chilling as it was, causing the eruption of gooseflesh to coat her skin, there was something about it that picked at the back of her mind. It wasn’t like the embrace of a lover, nor really and truly that of a friend. Something a little deeper. If she weren’t mistaken - which wasn’t often - OK yes all the time it was vaguely reminiscent of what a familial embrace should feel like. Comus had felt herself melting into the feeling, enjoying it a little too much. However, she didn’t get to enjoy it for too long, before she knew it Hel was pulling away and placing a quick peck to her cheek and moving away. Comus was operating on autopilot as she turned and began heading back to her previous seat, and just sit back, munch down on the danish she snatched up, that great uncle Zeus was so gracious to provide, and wait for the shit show to begin.
Hip Hop and Punk music blasting in the apartment. A vile of "poison" around the neck. Finds himself wandering the streets, the halls and the corridors on campus, no destination in mind. Cocky and thinks that he’s the best. Because he is. Duh. Always sports a leather jacket. Plotting revenge is a favorite past time. Sweet and charming one second then cutthroat the next. Life plans laid out since birth; though if you were to ask him he'd give a shrug and flip you off. Don't ask him. He doesn't know what he wants. Just that it isn't what his family wants. Lives for the thrill of the chase. He's the wolf, no questions asked. Rough sex anyone? Domination is key. Rebel without a cause. Mediocre grades due to lack of care. Sharp tongue and clear intentions. Drinking till he’s on the floor passed out. Don’t ever get on his bad side.
𝓗𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ The peach blossom is considered a flower that shares its beauty with the other flowers of the same tree, so they are given a meaning of generosity and true love (not possessive love). The peach blossom is the second son of a hospitality conglomerate, and not in line to inherit any of the responsibilities that come with the wealth save for the family name. Having an older brother to shoulder the brunt of the expectations has afforded him a life of luxury sans stress where his parents let him get away with most of anything turning him into quite the troublemaker. As time passed his rowdy days were traded in for nonchalance and carried into a dating lifestyle that has left him with a host of very upset ex-girlfriends.
Tak Jin-Kyu, second born and all around black sheep. Well, when compared to his older brother Ho-Jun. However, Jin doesn't hold that against Ho-Jun. It isn't his fault his father and mother place these unrealistic expectations on all their kids. Being the eldest, a lot of the pressure is placed on him rather than on Jin, allowing him to do as he saw fit whenever he wanted.
Rebellious Tendencies and Jin go hand in hand with one another. Originally his outlet for his rowdy and rambunctious nature was through skateboarding. When you've ground down on enough pipe and thrashed your hands and knees as much as he has in this golden city, full of the wealthy and well to - do, than you would wanna find another outlet too. That's when he found his love for art. More specifically, inking and tattooing. He's always been entranced by the way the lines look marking skin; creating a masterpiece from scratch to have on someone else's body forever? Kickass. He didn't trade in shredding half pipes for sitting behind a drafting table, at least not permanently, Jin just likes to keep busy. It gets him outta the house when he doesn't want to be near his family - not to mention it's what everyone deems an "appropriate creative outlet".
He's gone through his rebellious stage and swears it's come to a head and that he is not the same person he was then. Deadass liar. There are just some things that can't be outgrown so easily. Jin is very personable and charismatic and people are drawn to him because of it. However, he is an asshole and that isn't something he hides. His rowdiness has mellowed out somewhat and switched gears into a more nonchalant phase; where he almost seems impassive or just meh about things. In reality this boy cares. Just about things that interest him. If you aren't one of those things then... yeesh. Deuces.
Though he's got a less than spotless record, Jin is nothing if not generous. Just ask any of his past lovers. On strictly that, don't bother asking them if he was long term material or not. They'll say he wasn't isn't. HOWEVER, that isn't to say anything negative about how he lavishly showers his friends and lovers, hell even random strangers, with gifts. Typically buying rounds at the bar or hosting parties with the cabinets stocked and filled to the brim with anything that could be wanted. Though it is in those moments that he feels more like an outsider than one of the gang. As of late, he would rather sit on the balcony, smoking, sipping his drink and watch the lights of the city than to partake in the party shenanigans just a few meters away. His new nonchalance helps in staving away unwanted company.
Jin is the bad influence. Not matter how generous he seems. The devil comes disguised as everything you could ever want, right? He enjoys things that take him out of his reality and gives him a reprieve of his mental demons. So, music, skateboarding, getting a new tattoos and some innocent tagging here and there - it's all a welcomed reprieve for him. Though he would be remiss to say that he isn't looking for someone who could make it all worth it...