Tae

Pines Holler [Not Accepting]

Jolene Fraser

_{Location — #11 Shady Pines Drive - Bedroom}

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........
Jolene didn’t notice the heat at first. What she felt was the heavy, sticky pat of a four-year-old’s hand against her cheek, insistent and a little desperate.

"Mama... Mama, I’m sticky. It’s too hot in the castle," Faye whimpered, her red curls matted to her forehead like damp silk.

Jolene groaned, eyes dragging open. The trailer was silent, the kind of silence that pressed in on you; no AC, no fan, just thick, unmoving air that made every breath feel like sucking through a damp rag. "I know, bug. Give Mommy a second."

She rolled out of bed, bare feet hitting the linoleum, and reached for the light switch out of habit. Click. Nothing. She fiddled with the thermostat, hoping for a miracle. Still nothing.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath.

"Mama! That’s a no-no word!" Faye’s small voice was stern, even through her heat-induced pout.

Jolene’s edges softened. She dropped to her knees, meeting Faye’s eyes, and brushed a sweaty curl from her daughter’s forehead. Her voice gentled. "You’re right, baby. I’m sorry. Mommy’s just got scrambled brains this morning because the house is being grumpy today. No more bad words, promise."

She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. 64%. Good enough. Last night had dragged on forever. She’d stayed up late, hustling for extra cash so Faye could have a real birthday this year, not just a cake and a candle. Under the ring light, she became someone else, someone untouchable and perfect for DearDolly’s subscribers. It was a strange kind of power, being wanted by strangers, when most of her life she’d felt invisible or trapped—first in her parents’ house, then under Cade’s thumb. She’d finally crashed around three, her body giving out after twelve hours at Lou’s and another few spent pretending she was someone worth watching.

She saw the text from Willow and felt that familiar pang of protective guilt:

hey Jo <3 stepped out early this morning. think the power's out in town but Husker's got the generator going. need anything?

She already knew Willow hadn’t come home last night; it's hard to miss when you’re up half the night yourself. But she wouldn’t ask. Not today. Willow was probably already at Husker’s, apologizing to every customer for the heat, as if it were her fault the power was out. Jolene moved to the window, peeled back the curtain just enough to check for Caleb’s truck, and started typing.

To Willow:
power is def out. faye is already melting. i see caleb’s truck... gonna have him run us down to huskers. see u soon, stay cool, and stay HYDRATED <3

She switched chats, a sly grin tugging at her mouth. She knew exactly how to get Caleb Dalton moving, even on a morning like this.

To Caleb:
hey handsome. the power is dead and it’s getting way too hot in this trailer for clothes. think u can play the knight in shining armor and rescue the little princess and myself? willow says huskers generator is going. come save me and i’ll make it worth your while later ;)

"Don’t worry, Faye-faye," Jolene said, tossing her phone onto the mess of sheets. "Mommy’s called for our carriage."

Today was supposed to be her day off, one of those rare mornings where she could just exist. But Cade was coming for Faye tonight. No matter how hard she’d fought to claw her way out and start over with Willow, he was the one ghost she couldn’t shake, not with Faye in the picture. Every handoff felt like stepping back into a cage she’d once thought was freedom. She needed the noise of the bar, the comfort of Willow nearby, anything to keep the dread at bay.

Breakfast was a mission. Jolene wouldn’t touch the fridge because if she did, she would break that seal and the last bit of cold would bleed out, and Faye’s milk would be ruined before lunch. So she scavenged the pantry, coming up with a box of granola bars and a bruised apple she cut into pieces. They ate on the floor, the only place that felt remotely cool, sharing their dry breakfast while sweat started to gather on the walls.

She dressed fast, picking clothes that felt like armor. The black bodysuit hugged her tight, the lace-up front giving her a little edge, and the high-waisted, frayed denim shorts were as close to comfort as she’d get today. Even with the heat pressing in, she didn’t skip her ritual. She used the weak morning light to draw on her sharpest eyeliner and a smear of dark shadow; her war paint. It was the only thing that made her feel steady when everything else was falling apart.

She shrugged on her favorite sheer, dark floral kimono, the big sleeves and faded roses making her feel like some kind of witch—soft, but not to be messed with. She added a thin black choker and a cord necklace, the metal cool against her skin for a moment before the heat claimed it too.

For Faye, she found a sage-green romper with ruffles that turned her into a little forest sprite. Jolene let her pick the rest—glittery, mismatched butterfly clips for her wild red hair, plastic bracelets that clicked with every move, and those battered yellow wellies. Totally wrong for the heat, but Faye wouldn’t take them off. She said they were her magic traveling shoes.

"Okay, Princess," Jolene whispered, pulling on her platform boots and feeling that old, steadying lift. "Let’s go see if our knight’s up yet."

_{Interacting With — Willow @princess, Caleb @HylianRose
Mentions — N/A}

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

TIME: Evening
LOCATION: The Gossamer

Torvi’s golden eyes followed Kilian’s gaze, her expression shifting from lethal intensity to utter bewilderment. She watched the woman twirl the frayed edges of the fake mustache, the opera binoculars trembling as they remained locked on their table. It was so blatant that even Fenrys let out a huff of confusion, his head tilting in sync with Kilian’s.

"A very... bold choice in disguise," Torvi murmured, her voice laced with dry amusement as she watched Lucian storm over to confront the 'gentleman.' "I did not know spies in Caesonia favored the theater props of children. Or perhaps she is merely a fan of yours, Kilian?"

She let out a soft, melodic laugh as the Prince began his hushed interrogation at the neighboring table. With Lucian occupied, she leaned back, the silk of her gown rustling as she draped an arm over the back of her chair. She looked at Kilian, her gaze softening into something far more personal and playful than their professional briefing.

"Vell, vhile our Prince handles his little mustache problem... tell me," she said, her voice dropping into a low, smooth purr. "Vhat comes after ve finish here tonight? I hafe missed the taste of home, but I hafe also missed the company. Do you plan on finding a dark corner to brood over those files, or is there a chance I could entice you to spend your evening doing something much more... interesting?"

She let her eyes trail over him with a slow, deliberate pass before returning to his, a challenging and flirtatious glint in her golden gaze. "It vould be a shame to vaste such a beautiful gown on only a Prince and a silver volf, don't you think?" She said teasingly as she grinned at him.

Kilian’s gaze lingered on the “gentleman” and her tragic little mustache for one long moment, as if he were trying to decide whether it was insulting… or simply pathetic.

Then, quietly, he exhaled through his nose. Amusement, restrained, and a faint curl tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Bold is one word for it,” he murmured, voice low and smooth. “Desperate might be the more honest choice.”

Then, at Torvi’s teasing, his eyes finally shifted to her slowly and with intention as though she was the only thing in the room worth looking at now that his curiosity was satisfied.

“A fan of mine?” he repeated, the words touched with dry humor as his gaze softened just a fraction. “No, no, no…My theory is that she was staring at you.” He said, the low tone of his voice reaching a sultry place as his hand settled at the base of his glass, thumb tracing the rim, his attention dipping briefly to the line of Torvi’s throat and the edges of her gown. That attention then returned to her eyes, steady and unflinching.

“Tonight…” he said, voice quieter now, meant only for her. “I had planned to finish my work.” His mouth curved, faint and knowing as he spoke. “But then you decided to wear that dress….”

Kilian’s eyes held hers, unhurried and warm in a way he rarely allowed anyone to see.

“And as my favorite distraction, I must admit that I am curious what the prize of all Ulfhednar has in mind for me this night?”

Torvi didn’t look away. Instead, she leaned in, the movement causing the gold-embroidered bodice of her gown to hug her curves more tightly. She watched his thumb trace the rim of his glass, a playful, knowing light dancing in her golden eyes as she matched his sultry tone.

"It’s good to know my plan for the dress has caught some favorable attention," she murmured, her voice a velvety rasp. "I vas certain that a man of your... refined tastes... vould appreciate the finer details. But you should know, Kilian, I am a very demanding distraction."

She casually reached down and scratched Fenrys’ head. "I vas thinking perhaps ve could hafe a drink together elsewhere, to truly catch up. Something much less crowded than here. You could even take a much closer look at this lovely dress."

She paused, picking up her glass to take a slow, rhythmic sip of the dark wine. Her eyes never left his over the rim. After swallowing, she licked a stray drop from her bottom lip and leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a sinful whisper meant for his ears alone.

"And maybe... you could decide if it looks better on me, or on the floor." She pulled back just enough to catch his reaction, her smirk sharp and challenging.

Kilian didn’t need words to answer her invitation. The hunger in his eyes, and the mischief that painted his smile was enough of a resounding yes, and as he raised his glass to her, he gave her a wicked wink to all of the…distractions…they may find themselves enjoying that night.

However, the moment was cut short, and the anticipation was halted for the time being as a guard rushed into The Gossamer, panicked and full of intent as he headed directly towards Torvi and Kilian.

“I…I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner, esteemed hunters, but the King has commanded me to find you.” The guard explained with conviction. “There is trouble in the lower ward… witnesses say sorcery is running amuck. The king wishes for you to handle the matter.”

Kilian offered the man a resolved nod then turned his attention back to Torvi. A grin full of a new kind of anticipation grew across his chiseled face.

“It appears our night’s work isn’t over quite yet… Our fun may have to wait just a little longer.” He said to his partner as he stood, wrapping the chain leash of the girl behind him around his fist, and motioned for Prince Lucian to return.

Lucian turned with a quiet, resigned sigh and began to walk back to his hosts, his sister in tow. He paused for a moment as he noticed the guard rushing over to Kilian and Torvi. It didn’t take long for him to see the flash of a grin across Kilian’s face as the man stood and motioned for Lucian to follow him.

He glanced back at Marina for a moment, a worried look on his face, before he glanced back to Kilian. He had promised her and he wasn’t about to go back on that promise, but he couldn’t help but feel like bringing her along was the worst possible idea. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to convince her to go back on her own.

Silently, he pleaded for Ambrose to come looking for them; for the tall, brooding man to come through those doors and stop his sister for him. With a deep sigh, Lucian turned back to his sister again. ”You stay quiet, understood?” He told her, his face suddenly very, very stern. He walked over to Kilian with Marina, who was behind him.

”What’s going on, Kilian?” He asked, his tone calm despite his anxieties.

As the white-haired witch hunter watched the two approach, his eyes scanned the girl who was tagging along behind the prince. Now, without that god-awful, fake mustache, he could see her face more clearly. The family resemblance was unmistakable.

She was one of the princesses of Varian. Either Marina or Sylvia, he could not tell for sure, but he knew that he was now in the presence of two members of his kingdom’s royalty.

“Lucian,” Kilian nodded in greeting to welcome the prince back, his voice as darkly smooth and gravel-edged as ever. “And Princess.” He said, as he offered the slightest of reverent bows to the terrible spy of a woman before him, his eyes meeting hers and lingering as an insufferably confident, wolfish, but handsome grin tugged at the edges of his mouth. Though his words continued to address Prince Lucian, his eyes remained on Marina.

“It appears that we are needed to ply our trade in the lower ward, my Prince. There are witches, mages, or abominations causing havoc, and it is time for us to show this city the consequences of peddling in the dark arts.” As he spoke, his grip on the chain tightened, and he pulled his little pet forward towards him for dramatic effect.

“Get the princess home safe, Lucian. We can catch up again soon.” With that statement, Kilian’s gaze finally slipped from Marina’s eyes and found themselves on the prince once more. He offered another shallow dip of his head in acknowledgement of the royalty before him, then turned to leave, pulling the obedient girl in chains behind him.

Lastly, his voice addressed his partner, though he never stopped his stride. “Torvi…why don’t we and Fenrys take our leave and have a different kind of fun?”

Torvi rose smoothly, shifting from a charming guest to a deadly Ulfhednar in an instant. She ran her hand over her gown, her earlier warmth fading into the focused alertness of a huntress.

"It vas a pleasure, Prince Lucian," she said, her golden eyes flashing a quick, knowing look at Marina. "And to you, Princess. Try to keep the mustache straight next time." She gave her a smirk and playful wink.

Fenrys was already standing, his large silver form casting a long, predatory shadow across the table. He ignored the royals, keeping his sharp eyes on the door and his ears alert. He let out a low, vibrating huff, a clear sign of his restless excitement for the hunt.

As Kilian left, Torvi walked beside him, her steps both graceful and determined. She answered him right away, her voice smooth but edged with danger.

"I agree, Kilian. Blood and magic make a much better appetizer anyvay," she said, her smirk returning, now sharper and more dangerous. "Lead the vay. I vant to see if these city-vitches can fight before ve break them."

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Maelis McGuinness

__________________________________________________________ Basic Information __________________________________________________________ • Name | Maelis McGuinness • Nickname(s) | Mae, Lissy, Echo (stage name) • Age | 210, but appears mid 20s • Gender | Female • Birthday | October 31st, 1815 • Race | Fae • Rank/Status | Bound Asset under Contract to Magnus Corvane Appearance __________________________________________________________ View Appearance • Height | 5'5 • Build | Slim and delicate at first glance, with quiet athleticism beneath; flexible, wiry strength rather than overt muscle • Eye Color | Soft luminous pink, unnatural and faintly reflective in low light • Hair Color & Style | Long, voluminous ivory-blonde curls, often worn loose that fall to her butt; on stage, styled wilder and darker with temporary dyes, leather wraps, or braided chains. Sometimes she'll add in some colors when she's feeling bold. • Skin Tone | Pale porcelain with warm undertones and a faint natural flush to her cheeks • Notable Marks | Pink eyes that subtly glow in dim light, faint scars on her wrist from being bound by iron, a brand mark between her shoulder blades. • Typical Clothing Style | Off Stage: Maelis favors comfort and quiet whimsy when she is not performing. Oversized knit sweaters, soft cardigans, loose long-sleeve tops, thigh-high socks, tights, and worn-in boots make up most of her off-stage wardrobe. Her clothes are practical, layered, and intentionally modest—chosen to feel safe, warm, and unobtrusive. Nothing restrictive. Nothing that draws attention unless she allows it. On Stage: On stage, her style shifts sharply into dark alt-rock aesthetics. Black dominates: fishnets, fitted tops, layered belts or harness details, distressed fabrics, and heavy combat boots. Her clothing becomes deliberate and severe, designed to command presence without softness. It contrasts starkly with her off-stage appearance, as if she steps into a different skin entirely when she performs. • Aura/First Impression | Maelis reminds people of still water: calm, thoughtful, and gentle in a way that can be misleading. Her presence is always restrained, as if she is holding something dangerous at bay. It’s a skill honed over two decades of servitude under a cruel Vampire master. She never demands attention; instead, people find themselves drawn to her in a quiet, uneasy way. Others act unusually careful around her, though they can’t explain why. There’s a gravity to her stillness, an unsettling edge beneath the tranquility, as if she is measuring everything and everyone. Her gaze lingers a little too long, sharp and calculating, as if she is memorizing the person in front of her for reasons unknown. Under her gentle appearance, there is a quiet tension, like someone who has survived by making herself invisible, yet is never truly powerless. Those who meet her eyes sense something fierce watching from behind them. She seems safe, but never completely harmless. • Voice | Low, smooth, and controlled — a soft mezzo-soprano with a faint Irish lilt, just enough to be noticed, especially when her emotions rise. Her accent lends a subtle musicality to her words, weaving warmth and mystery into every syllable. She speaks sparingly, but when she does, people listen. On stage, her voice transforms: haunting, intimate, threaded with emotion that crawls under the skin. It sounds like a confession whispered in the dark. Relationships __________________________________________________________ View Relationships • Openness to Friendship (1-5) | 2 • Openness to Romance (1-5) | 2 • Romantic Preferences | Drawn to serious, slow-burning relationships rooted in trust, emotional depth, and mutual respect. Casual intimacy holds little appeal, and she is deeply cautious of vulnerability. Attraction, once earned, is intense and unwavering. • Current Romantic Interests | None currently • View on Forbidden Relationships | Resigned pragmatism; feelings are luxuries, not rights • Biggest Turn-ons | Genuine Protectiveness ✦ Consistency ✦ Patience ✦ Trust ✦ Meeting her gaze and holding it ✦ Choosing her, not claiming her • Biggest Turn-offs | Entitlement ✦ Cruelty ✦ Manipulation ✦ Inconsistency ✦ People who expect obedience always ✦ Pity ✦ Talking down to her • Known Friends | N/A • Known Enemies | Magnus Corvane • Known Family | House of McGuinness

Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Hobbies/Interests | Songwriting ✦ Sketching memories she fears she might forget ✦ Reading ✦ Stargazing ✦ Dancing (most don’t know about this one) ✦ Guitar ✦ Fiddle ✦ Piano ✦ Hand-to-hand combat (not many know this either) • Likes | Rain at night ✦ Music ✦ Quiet spaces ✦ Soft textures ✦ Low lighting ✦ Cold nights and warm blankets ✦ Losing herself in rhythm and movement ✦ Dry dark humor • Dislikes | Being commanded ✦ Raised voices ✦ Being watched ✦ Excessive noise ✦ Smell of iron or dried blood ✦ Being told to “let it go” ✦ Questions she didn’t invite ✦ Needing help ✦ Feeling indebted • Fears | Losing autonomy ✦ Becoming numb ✦ Forgetting who she is ✦ The contract being permanent ✦ Being broken into obedience ✦ That freedom will fill empty once she finally has it • Habits | Observes silently before speaking ✦ Sleeps lightly ✦ Counts exits ✦ Singing softly to herself when doing other things ✦ Dissociates some when in stressful situations ✦ Accepts pain quietly, but resents pity deeply ✦ Refuses comfort she didn’t ask for • Vices | Alcohol ✦ Flirting with danger ✦ Self harm ✦ Neglecting her own needs ✦ Pushing people away that she wants near ✦ Smoking weed Core Motivation Survival and the quiet preservation of self. Maelis lives by one rule: “No one is coming to save you. Get up.” Everything she does is aimed at staying alive, staying useful, and staying unnoticed until the day she can finally be free. Personality Overview Maelis McGuiness is quiet, controlled, and always watching. She rarely speaks, but she is always present. Her stillness is intentional, a discipline she learned from experience: reacting brings punishment, but calm is hers to keep. When she does speak, her words are careful and measured, often hitting harder than people expect. She used to be vibrant—curious, outspoken, and bold enough to challenge authority without fear. That spark is not gone, just hidden. Sometimes, through music, movement, or dry humor, glimpses of her old self appear. These moments are brief and careful, as if she is testing whether the world is safe enough for her true self. Maelis is naturally blunt. As a fae who must tell the truth, she does not soften her honesty; instead, she sharpens it. She only answers what is asked, avoids what could be risky, and lets others reveal themselves. This restraint makes her hard to read and easy to underestimate, and she lets people think that. She has a quiet, unsettling intensity. When she senses guilt, dishonesty, or tension, she holds eye contact just long enough to make others uneasy. She does not accuse or question. She just watches. Most of the time, people end up confessing without knowing why. She lives by a survivor’s morality. Rules matter less to her than results. She does not want to be cruel, but she knows what is necessary. If she must choose between herself and someone else, she will pick herself and carry that burden quietly. She has compassion, but she protects it and only shows it when it is safe. Pride remains beneath her restraint. Maelis does not beg, plead, or lower herself, even when she is afraid. She endures, adapts, and remembers. When she submits, it is a choice, not true surrender. She survives by staying in control, not by obeying. Even though she is reserved, Maelis is not cold. She feels things deeply, sometimes too deeply, so she keeps her emotions under control. Attachment and desire are both dangerous, but she cannot get rid of them completely. When she lets herself care, it happens slowly, reluctantly, and with great depth. She does not believe anyone will come to save her. That belief has made her sharp and self-reliant. Still, in quiet moments, when music fills her or she moves with remembered rhythm, it is clear she has not given up hope. She has just learned to hide it where no one else can find it.

Background ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Current Occupation | Guitarist & Backing Vocalist for AS ABOVE, SO BELOW • Level of Schooling | Privately educated among the Fae Courts • Past Occupations | House of Memory Archivist ✦ Musician/Performer ✦ Emotional Stabilization Asset • Socioeconomic Status | Currently property of Magnus Corvane • History Summary | Maelis McGuinness was born on October 31, 1815, into the House of Memory, a fae house focused not on keeping facts, but on the emotions that remain in memories. Joy faded by time. Grief that never quite goes away. Love that turns into longing instead of comfort. The House believed memory was shaped more by what the heart holds onto than by truth. Her family was just below the top ranks of the House, important enough to be noticed but never so powerful that they could not be challenged. Her mother, Aelith McGuinness, was a skilled empath and dreamweaver, known for her ability to sense lingering emotions. She focused on memories shaped by devotion, loss, and longing, and truly valued the importance of feeling. Aelith loved her daughter openly and sincerely, but fear often guided her more than her beliefs. When she faced hard choices, she stayed silent instead of resisting. Her father, Cormac McGuinness, was a different kind of fae. He was calculating and focused on politics. He saw emotion not as something sacred, but as a tool that could be shaped, redirected, or traded for safety. His influence in the House came from his readiness to make tough choices that others avoided. He believed survival was worth any price. Maelis grew up surrounded by other people’s memories. From a young age, she learned to sense the emotions left behind: grief that filled rooms, devotion that stayed with objects, and guilt hidden in words. Unlike many in her House, she did not get lost in these feelings. She learned early to hold back, to anchor emotions instead of taking them in, and to steady what might otherwise get out of control. When she was young, she was lively and bold. She was curious, direct, and quick to challenge authority, but even quicker to laugh. She questioned traditions, spoke her mind, and did not treat power with much respect. She discovered music during these years, first with the piano, then with the fiddle, and later with the guitar. Music was not a duty for her, but a way to find comfort. While memory magic needed control, music let her express herself. She played at small gatherings, salons, and rituals, often with dreamweavers or dancers. Her presence helped calm emotions and made things easier for others. People noticed her talent. As tensions grew between the fae courts and vampires, the House of Memory became vulnerable. Vampires wanted what the House could offer: emotional influence without open control, and compliance without using force. Secret deals were discussed behind closed doors. When Magnus Corvane made an offer to the House, Cormac McGuinness was the one who listened. They described the arrangement as protection. Magnus did not care about Maelis as a person, but saw her as a variable. He wanted to see how fae dreamweaving, especially emotional control and amplification, would work with vampire power. Could hunger be lessened? Could fear turn into calm? Could obedience happen without violence? Maelis’ magic made her the perfect subject for these tests. In return for binding Maelis, the House of Memory gained security, privacy, and favor. Cormac made sure his family was safe and improved his own position. Aelith said nothing against it. Maelis was bound by contract before she realized the true cost. The terms were clear, polished, and harsh, hiding ownership as duty and enforcing compliance through consequences instead of chains. Hidden in the contract was a small clause about intentional misuse of her glamour, meant to protect the House, not her. It was easy to miss. One day, it might become important. Her first years with Magnus were marked by quiet cruelty. There were no cells or chains. Instead, she was placed in private venues, controlled gatherings, and test environments where emotions were pushed to the edge. She was expected to keep rooms steady, filled with hunger, fear, desire, and desperation, and to hold everything together while staying untouched herself. She adapted fast. She learned that reacting brought punishment, that staying calm meant survival, and that endurance was safer than fighting back. Slowly, the lively girl she once was turned inward, not gone, but hidden. Her sharpness faded into stillness. She laughed less, and her silence became a choice. By the time she was sent to As Above, So Below, Maelis had already spent 20 years living under control without giving in. She knew what Magnus expected. She knew what failure would cost. She knew she was still his to command, still bound, and still watched. On stage, Maelis transforms into Echo. The quiet restraint she wears offstage falls away, revealing a magnetic, mesmerising presence that draws every eye. She becomes alluring and untouchable, her movements fluid and expressive, her music threaded with the wild, unguarded spirit she keeps hidden from her captors. When she plays, she is fearless—her glamour woven into each note, inviting longing, joy, and heartbreak in equal measure. The audience is spellbound, sensing the true power beneath her calm exterior. For a brief time, she is utterly herself: fierce, radiant, and impossible to ignore. Off stage, she is quiet, watchful, and careful. She trusts few people, especially vampires. She knows she is still owned, only borrowed, not free. But she does not forget. And in the House of Memory, remembrance has always been dangerous.

Race-Specific Questions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Race info ▸ Fae ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Element Affinity | Ash • Glamour Specialty | Dreamweaving & Emotional Manipulation/Stabilization • Views on Mortals | Cautious respect. She understands their emotional depth and vulnerability and is more inclined to protect them than exploit them, though she keeps her distance. • Views on Vampires | She does not trust them. Too many confuse control with entitlement, and she has learned the cost of that mistake. • Views on Lycan | Wary but pragmatic. Their emotions run hot and honest, making them dangerous, but predictable in ways others are not. Miscellaneous ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Theme Song | Born Without a Heart || Faouzia • Favorite Food | Apple Pie • Favorite Animal(s) | Ravens & Crows • Favorite Music Genre | Alt rock/Emo revival • Favorite Haunt | The Glintwood • Signature Weapon | Music…and a concealed blade • Preferred Vices | Alcohol and self-harm • Pet Peeve | Being spoken over and entitlement disguised as concern • Guilty Pleasure | Drinking alone with music and romance novels

Also my new addition/ Silas new bandmate! Please let me know if I need to change anything as well.

Also open to making some connections!

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Race: Yuan-ti
Class: Rogue Arcane Assassin
Location: Port Verge
Interactions: @FunnyGuy @Infinite Cosmos @princess @Lava Alckon @Samreaper @Potter @Oso
Mentions:
Equipment:

Full Equipment List

🌸 A finely crafted katana
🌸 A concealed dagger laced with paralytic venom
🌸 Throwing needles coated with different poisons
🌸 Black silk combat outfit reinforced with hidden Mithril chainmail
🌸 Soft-soled boots that allow for near-silent movement
🌸 Smoke bombs and illusion charms for quick escapes
🌸 A set of forged documents under multiple aliases
🌸 A tea set and an assortment of teas
🌸 Incense
🌸 Leather gloves

Attire:
Gold Balance: 98
Injuries: Gash on hip and thigh, small cut on her head, aching shoulder

Corin’s arrival drew Meiyu into a predator’s hush, every muscle stilled beneath the silk of her robe. Her gaze flicked to him—sharp, measuring—taking in the gleam of his armor, the easy way he greeted the Elf. She watched, silent, as if deciding whether he was prey or threat.

"Corin," she said, her voice returning to its natural, cool precision. "It seems your friend has a talent for attracting the wrong kind of attention. Or perhaps exactly the right kind."

She let her eyes linger, just a moment too long. When Corin moved, the armor at his throat shifted, and there it was—a jagged shard of light, unmistakable, glinting just above his sternum. The gem, half-hidden, half-daring her to notice.

Recognition struck, cold and clean, but her face gave nothing away. Five now. Herself. Phia. Bastion. The Elf. The Soldier. One was a wound. Two, a warning. Five was a snare tightening around them all. Not to mention, she suspected the others of the ragtag group all had them as well. She hadn’t observed Minerva closely enough yet, but she would if only to confirm her suspicion.

A chill crept up her spine, untouched by the salt wind. This was no accident. The crash, the tavern, the way their paths tangled...something was pulling them together, threads drawn tight by unseen hands. Did the gems call to each other, weaving a net she hadn’t seen until now?

When Phia appeared, scolding them with that earnest, unhinged seriousness, Meiyu didn’t rise to the bait of an argument. She simply adjusted her gloves, her expression flat. "The ferret was attempting to rob me of my coin, Phia. I was merely performing a public service by ensuring his hands stayed where I could see them."

They moved toward the Kraken’s Wake, Meiyu gliding in their midst, her steps silent, measured. She glanced back to see Minerva scribbling furiously in her journal. Quietly, Meiyu slowed her steps so she was subtly beside Minerva for a moment. She leaned in, just enough to catch the scent of ink and the fever behind it. She caught a couple of things of interest, like the mention of Darius' home turf as well as Minerva still having her “playtime.” This only served to add to her suspicions about Minerva... and Wendel and this Darius character. She didn’t linger for long before moving back to where she had been before.

Inside the tavern, the sensory assault of sea salt and smoke was a wall of static, but Meiyu remained centered. She didn't lead the charge for food or drink. Instead, she claimed a seat at the periphery of the table, her back to a sturdy timber pillar, her eyes sweeping the room and noting every exit before settling on her companions.

Phia drifted to the bar, Arya hovered at the edge, all nerves. Meiyu’s attention stayed on Elithar as well as Corin and what she had spied under his armor. No questions yet. She leaned back, fingers tracing the scarred wood, waiting.

When Elithar shouted to the barkeep for a round for everyone, Meiyu’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Quiet your heroics, Ferret," she said, her voice cutting through his bravado like a blade through silk. She didn't look up, her focus remaining on the table. "You made a deal for two pints, not a banquet for a battalion. If our ‘friends’ are thirsty, they can find their own coin. I’m not interested in watching you go broke before you’ve answered a single question and risking you attempting to steal from me again."

She looked toward Corin, then back to the Elf, her gaze cold and proprietary. "The rest of them can fend for themselves. You owe Minerva for the bruises, and me for the time. Don’t overextend your welcome, or your purse."

She let the tavern’s roar wash over her, silent and watchful. The ale would loosen tongues soon enough. She needed to know; were they caught in the same snare, or were they the bait she’d already swallowed?

Z-Team: Operatives of the SDN

POE

---

TIME: 8:11 AM
LOCATION: Meeting Room
INTERACTIONS: @GingerBobOh @princess @Oso @FunnyGuy @Infinite Cosmos @DClassified

---

Poe sat amidst the burgeoning chaos of the meeting room, her expression a mask of practiced, clinical boredom. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, the cold aluminum a grounding contrast to the escalating "theatre of the absurd" unfolding around the table.

She looked over at Quinn, her gaze flat. "You sound like a drug dealer, Quinn. A very high-functioning, low-rent one. And if you’re wondering why I’m not running the show yet, it’s probably because I’ve been trapped in this corporate purgatory for only a few weeks. Some of us prefer to map out the server architecture before we initiate a total system override. Patience is a virtue, look it up."

She turned her head slightly as Murph made his grand, messy entrance. She watched the trash gravel from his board settle onto the carpet with a slight twitch of her eye. "I suspect the influx of fresh blood is exactly why we’re here at an hour usually reserved for milkmen and people with actual souls, Murph. As for why Chadwick thinks 08:00 is the optimal time for ‘synergy’? I have no idea. My best guess is he’s trying to catch us before our survival instincts fully boot up."

Reforge’s cynical assessment of the SDN’s blame-shifting culture earned a rare, sharp noise from Poe; a click of her tongue. She turned toward him, offering a lazy, mocking finger gun that was a pitch-perfect, deadpan imitation of Chadwick’s nauseatingly upbeat brand of leadership. She continued that imitation with her next words.

"You got it, bud," she said, her voice dripping with enough sarcasm to corrode the table. "Spot on. You’re learning the corporate meta faster than I expected." She let out a sigh and shook her head. "God, even mocking Chadwick is nauseating."

As the room continued to fill, Poe’s internal ledger began recording new data points. When Muyang floated in with the confidence of a man who didn't realize he was in a basement, followed by the walking personification of trauma that was Liam, Poe leaned back in her squeaky chair.

"Speaking of other newbies," she remarked, her eyes flicking between Muyang and Reforge. She didn't miss the way Sylas’s jaw tightened or the look of recognition in the Monkey’s eyes. High school history? Rivarly? Fascinating. She mentally filed that under ‘Potential Team Friction.’

"For those of you who just stumbled in: I’m Poe. I’m the Dispatcher. I handle the electronics, the routing, and the tactical oversight. I’m the voice in your ear telling you when you’re about to walk into a claymore."

Moxie’s entrance brought the usual scent of expensive distractions and psychic weight. As the empath began her rounds, leaning into Quinn and hovering over the new recruits, Poe didn't even look up from her can.

"Down, Moxie," Poe said dryly. "Don’t go scaring the level-ones immediately. We need them at least semi-functional before the briefing starts. Try to keep the ‘blissful distractions’ in your pocket until we’re off the clock."

Beside her, Roxanne was practically vibrating. Poe noticed the girl’s blush deepening and the way she was trying to hide inside her pink cardigan. High maintenance, Poe thought, though not entirely unkindly. One more social interaction and she’s going to spontaneously combust into a cloud of sugar and anxiety.

She checked her watch, then glanced pointedly at the mirror in the room, a quiet question beginning to form in her mind. That closet was behind there, wasn’t it? Would he?

"He’s still in there, by the way," Poe announced to the room at large, nodding toward the mirror. "Our fearless leader has been in a janitor’s closet behind that wall for fifteen minutes. He’s either practicing his ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ face in a bucket of floor wax, or he’s forgotten how doorknobs work…or he’s watching us. Place your bets now."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Tough Tavern
Interactions/Mentions: @CitrusArms Stratya, @Lava Alckon Drake, @princess Charlotte and the gang, @Tpartywithzombi Ariella, @Samreaper Kazumin, @Potter Olivia, @ReusableSword Roman @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk & Cynwaer
Aesthetic: Outfit

Garran’s fingers twisted into Ariella’s hair, and Kalliope’s jaw clenched hard enough to ache. She watched the pistol grind into the redhead’s scalp, her mind slipping into that cold, clinical place she’d honed in a hundred midnight alleys. Stratya lunged, moving with a speed that was almost inhuman, and Marius went down. Kalliope didn’t know what the Knight had done to make the man seize up, but she didn’t waste a heartbeat caring. If it worked, it worked.

The air in the tavern soured, thickening until it pressed against her skin.

Kalliope’s gaze jerked to the barmaid. The weeping girl had vanished, replaced by something hollow-eyed and crawling with shadow. Ozone and rot stung her nose in a warning of the kind of power she’d learned to avoid at all costs.

“Shit! There’s another ma—” The warning was cut short. The darkness lunged, snapping out like a whip. The tendrils wrapped around her middle and shoulder in a brutal, crushing grip that snatched the breath from her lungs. Kalliope was yanked off her feet as if she weighed nothing at all.

Her skull slammed into the wall with a wet, nauseating crack.

White fire burst behind her eyes. The world fractured into a storm of bells and distant, broken shouts. She hung there, pinned like a butterfly to a board. Through a haze of red, she caught glimpses: Drake tearing loose, a muzzle flash, the ringleader’s head snapping back, dropping like butchered meat. More shapes spilling in from the kitchen—too many. This was bad.

Then, the invisible pressure vanished.

Kalliope crashed to the floorboards, pain lancing through her skull again. For a heartbeat, she just lay there, mouth full of blood, the world spinning in sick, dizzying circles.

She forced herself up, hands sliding in Maelen’s blood, the floor rolling under her like a storm-tossed deck. Her vision split and blurred, but she locked her gaze on the doorway, dragging herself upright. There he was—a tall, familiar silhouette, as known to her now as the heft of her own blades.

“Sjan… dehk?” she breathed, her voice a raspy thread. Confusion and a sudden, traitorous warmth surged in her chest. She wasn't sure if the concussion was finally claiming her mind or if he had actually come to help save them all.

She fought to steady herself, the world still spinning out from under her. Behind her, Drake’s voice ripped through the chaos, a blood-hungry roar about making his night. It was the perfect distraction...just not for her.

A sudden, icy sting bit into her neck.

Kalliope sucked in a ragged breath, hand snapping to her throat. Her fingers grazed a syringe in the side of her neck, the burn of something flooding her veins. The room spun faster, colors bleeding together, vision bruising at the edges. Rough hands caught her under the arms, dragging her up.

Through the thickening dark, she saw them: two patrons who’d been watching her all night, waiting for chaos. She fumbled for a blade, but her arms were dead weight, her body betraying her as the drug took hold. They dragged her backward, her boots scraping uselessly across the floor toward the kitchen.

Panic, raw and primal, punched through the drug’s haze. She turned, desperate, searching the doorway for the man she’d just dared to hope would save her.

“SJAN-DEHK!”

The scream tore from her throat, desperate and shrill, echoing off the rafters just as the kitchen doors swung shut. The last thing she felt was the cold rush of damp, musty air as she was pulled into the darkness of the smuggling tunnels, and then the world went black. She had been kidnapped.

Pines Holler [Not Accepting]

The Shieldbearer || Jolene Fraser || TW: Child Abuse and Neglect | Domestic Abuse | SA/Molestation

_{Faceclaim: Katherine McNamara // Color Code: AFD47F}
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Full Name: Jolene Paige Fraser Nickname(s): Jo or JoJo: Only by Willow, Aunt Bobi, and close friends Red: Highschool nickname Mama: Faye only DearDolly: Online persona Age: 22 ❤︎ March 11th ❤︎ Picese Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heteroromantic Bisexual Occupation: Waitress at Lou’s Diner // Secret Digital Content Creator (OnlyFans) Place of Residence: #11 Shady Pines Drive Trailer

_{Family and Close Connections:}

Family

❤︎ Diana Fraser - Jolene's mother - Previous billing coordinator at the Medical Clinic/Regional Hospital - Currently in Prison

❤︎ Peter Fraser - Jolene's father - Previous construction foreman - Currently in Prison

❤︎ Willow Fraser - Jolene’s beloved older sister & savior

❤︎ Faye Fraser - Jolene’s 4 year old daughter || FC: Toddler Madelaine Petsch

❤︎ Aunt Bobi - Jolene’s aunt

Friends and Connections

Tyler Boone - Pending

Caleb Dalton - Close friend, ride to and from work, & one of her subscribers

Cade Miller - Ex-boyfriend, biker, & baby daddy (Role open if anybody is interested)

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Appearance: Height: 5’3” Hair: Auburn Red ❤︎ Long and mostly straight ❤︎ Up in messy bun or down with wavy curls Eyes: Green Body Type: Petite hourglass figure, but toned and deceptively strong. Clothing Style: Thrifty Whimsigoth Witch ❤︎ Velvet & Lace ❤︎ Dark jewel tones ❤︎ Distressed black denim ❤︎ Chunky/oversized cardigans ❤︎ Celestial embroidery & mushrooms ❤︎ Layered chokers ❤︎ Lunar jewelry ❤︎ Platform combat boots ❤︎ Bolero hats ❤︎ Example 1 ❤︎ Example 2 ❤︎ Example 3 ❤︎ Example 4 ❤︎ Example 5 Body Markings: ❤︎ Septum ring, ear piercings, & belly button piercing ❤︎ A tattoo of a willow branch on her shoulder in honor of her sister ❤︎ Small heart tattoos on her hand where her daughter’s fingers sit when holding her hand ❤︎ Faded scars on her forearms and palms from falling on a glass table

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_Personality:

Jolene is like a live wire after a storm, all sharp edges and restless energy. She doesn't just walk into a room, she dares it to push back. If Willow is the one who soaks up the blows, Jolene is the one who steps in front, making sure nobody ever gets a clear shot at her sister or her daughter again.

She flirts and jokes like it's a shield, all bright smiles and quick comebacks. She knows how to use her looks and her mouth to keep people guessing, to keep them from seeing the bruises underneath. She walks around with the swagger of someone twice her size, chin up, never backing down, making people forget she's barely five feet tall.

She steps into the role of the "Dragon Slayer," loudly drawing the fire so the shadows don't touch her family, and that's the simplest way to sum up Jolene.

Jolene grins like she’s daring someone to call her bluff, and she hasn’t said sorry for breathing since the day Aunt Bobi called the cops. She doesn’t mind silence and likes to let it hang until other people squirm. She’s quick with a joke that cuts, never letting on if she’s serious or just messing with you. She’s always moving—tapping her fingers, spinning her rings, never quite still. When things get bad, she gets louder, picks a fight, does something reckless just to remind herself she’s still got the upper hand. She’s never lied about who she hates, but she guards the soft parts of herself like a secret.

That boldness of hers, however, is a survival strategy, not a lack of vulnerability. Jolene is hyper-vigilant and extremely observant, reading power dynamics with the precision of someone who spent years navigating a house full of landmines. Her default response is defiance, the fight response. She gets louder, hits harder, and never gives an inch of ground. She moves with a grounded, predatory grace, even when her mind is a storm of anxiety. It’s like her body is the only thing she has left that she finally owns.

Beneath all that grit, though, lives a deep-seated grief for the girl who used to sing and believe in "godly" men before life taught her that protection is something you have to take for yourself. Jolene has zero tolerance for bullies or hypocrites, and seeing a vulnerable person being cornered flips a switch in her. She goes after threats with the same fury she learned from her father, but she uses it to protect, not destroy. When she decides to end a threat, she doesn't just swing; she seeks to dismantle it so it can never rise again.

When the camera’s on for DearDolly, Jolene turns herself into something sharp and untouchable, all confidence and control. Online, she owns every part of herself, and nobody gets anything she doesn’t give. But when she’s alone, singing lullabies in the dark to Faye, that’s when the real Jolene slips out: raw, aching, and holding tight to the little bit of peace she’s managed to carve out.

Jolene keeps her doubts to herself, half-convinced the world is set up to crush girls like her. She deals with it by working herself raw with twelve-hour shifts at the diner and side hustles, anything to keep her mind too tired to remember Peter’s eyes or the sound of Cade’s bike.

But the thing that keeps Jolene from burning it all down is Faye. Loving her daughter is the only faith she’s got left, and she clings to it with everything she has. Faye is her little fairy girl, the one person Jolene wants to give a soft world to, even if she has to build it from scratch. She’ll work herself to the bone to make sure Faye has what she needs—good clothes, bright toys, and a mother who actually listens. Jolene might be hard on everyone else, but for Faye, she’s all warmth. She never misses a bedtime story, turns their trailer into something close to magic, and would do anything to keep her daughter safe. Faye and Willow are the only ones who get to see the real Jolene.

Despite everything, Jolene hasn’t lost her capacity for love, but she has lost her belief in "holy" masks. She believes in the power of a sharp tongue, the safety of Aunt Bobi’s porch, and the fact that if you want a monster dead, you have to be the one to hold the sword.

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~❤︎~❤︎~~❤︎~❤︎~
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_History:

TW - Child Abuse/Neglect, Domestic Abuse, Sexual Assault/Molestation, Teen Pregnancy/Custody Issues

Jolene grew up in the hush that followed after Willow took the hits. While Willow was always the one running interference, Jolene learned to keep her head down, to shrink herself, to take whatever scraps of love were handed out—always with strings attached. She watched her parents parade their "godly" values for the neighbors, but inside the house, it was all sharp words and double standards. Jolene figured out early that in the Fraser house, telling the truth was just asking for trouble.

Everything changed after the car accident. Diana became obsessed with Willow’s recovery, hovering over her, counting pills, running the show. With her mother’s eyes fixed on Willow, the rest of the house slipped out of focus. That’s when Peter stepped in. Jolene, who had always been the afterthought, suddenly became the only one left for her father to notice.

At first, it was just more of his temper. Jolene became the one he yelled at, the one he shoved when things went wrong. But as she got older, his attention changed. The anger turned quiet, secret. While Diana fussed over Willow in the next room, Peter started crossing lines that should have never been touched. He took things from Jolene that she could never get back, things that should have remained sacred. He was stealing Jolene's autonomy and innocence in a way that left her feeling like a ghost in her own skin.

Jolene lived in a split world. Willow was being told she was broken, that she needed help, while Jolene was being torn apart in silence by the man everyone else called a good Christian and a hard worker. Through all of it, the only thing that kept Jolene from slipping away completely was Willow. Even when Willow was barely holding herself together, she still made sure Jolene ate, got dressed, made it to school.

Seeking any light in that suffocating darkness, Jolene found Cade Miller in high school. To a girl raised by a man who used religion to mask his rot, Cade’s pedigree as the son of a high-ranking Black Dog felt like salvation. The gang were the local heavyweights, known for a rugged code of protection and looking out for the people of Pines Holler when the system failed them. Cade promised her a world where "protection" was a real, physical thing, and she worshipped him as her ticket out, believing the leather-clad legacy he was set to inherit would be the armor that kept her father at bay.

However, the "protection" Cade offered revealed itself to be a different kind of possession as he aged into his role. While the Black Dogs as a whole held values of helping the town, Cade’s personal interpretation of that strength was a masterclass in domestic control. When Jolene fell pregnant at sixteen, the shift was immediate. Cade didn't become the partner she needed; he became her warden. He used the gang’s reputation for "safety" to isolate her, turning his protective nature into a cycle of volatility and domestic terror. She ran back to him time and again because she believed she had nowhere else to go and that a known devil with a badge of "protection" was better than the one waiting in her childhood bedroom.

It all broke open when Willow saw what was really happening. The secrets spilled out, and whatever peace they had left was gone. But they didn’t have to face it alone. Aunt Bobi, who had always known something was wrong behind the Fraser family’s church smiles, took them in when they had nowhere else to go. She was the one who finally said enough, who called the police, who stood up in court and told the truth. Because of her, Diana and Peter ended up where they belonged.

Life at #11 Shady Hills is no fairy tale, but it belongs to them. Jolene still carries those years in the way she keeps Faye close and always checks the locks. She works her shifts at the diner, pours herself into DearDolly, trying to build something better than what her parents left her with. Only Jolene knows what Willow gave up to get them out, just like only Willow knows what Jolene truly lost back on Miners Street. Through it all, Aunt Bobi is still there, the one steady thing in Pines Holler, proof that family can mean safety, not pain.

Now, things with Cade simmer in the background, never really gone. Because of Faye, he’s the one monster Jolene can’t shake. Their lives are tied together by court papers, every handoff a reminder of the cage she once thought was a way out. Jolene still respects the Black Dogs as she knows they look out for Pines Holler, but Cade is different. He hides behind their name, using it to cover up what he really is. Shady Hills is her safe place, but as she pours coffee at Lou’s and works on DearDolly, she knows Cade is always just across the town, holding half of her heart in her hands.

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_{Extra Facts // Headcannons:}

How does your character feel about the expansion/growth of Pines Holler?
❤︎ Jolene sees it as a new breed of predator in a better suit. She views the "suits" and developers as parasites looking to buy out the vulnerable, and while she’ll happily drain their wallets at the diner or online, she’d burn the town to the ground before she let their "progress" evict her family from their sanctuary.

Fun Facts
❤︎ Jolene has a haunting, raw singing voice; though she secretly dreams of a career in music, she treats it like a dead dream to keep herself grounded in reality.
❤︎ She went with the name DearDolly as a nod to being named after the Dolly Parton song Jolene.
❤︎ She is a self-taught seamstress
❤︎ Jolene is the "handyman" of the trailer; she’d rather spend three hours fixing a leak herself than let a strange man inside their home to do it. But when she can’t fix something, she goes and gets Caleb to see if he can help.
❤︎ She likes to hang out at Huskers if her sister or Caleb is working and Cade has Faye, drinking and trying to quiet her worry over her daughter not being home with her.
❤︎ She has a deep love for any and all music.
❤︎ She is a master of the "Irish Goodbye"; she’ll be at a party or a gathering one minute, and the second she feels a shift in the vibe, she’s gone without a word to anyone but Willow.
❤︎ She has a high caffeine tolerance; Jolene can drink a pot of coffee at midnight and still fall asleep the moment her head hits the pillow from pure exhaustion.
❤︎ When working as DearDolly, she wears an intricate lace masquerade mask; it’s a beautiful bit of theater that helps ensure her identity is obscured.
❤︎ Jolene has been known to smoke weed on occasion.
❤︎ She caught Caleb on his phone once and saw his OnlyFans username and realized he’s one of her subscribers. She hasn’t said anything to him yet.

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@Sugar and Spite Here's miss Willow's sister! Hope she's okay haha.

Pines Holler [Not Accepting]

Character Reservation:

Jolene Fraser | 22 | Single young mom who lives with her sister, Willow, and has joint custody of her daughter with her abusive and manipulative ex-boyfriend who lives in Shady Hills Trailer Park and does everything she can to make ends meet and keep her daughter safe | FC: Katherine McNamara | #AFD47F

EDIT:Forgot to include the color code for her.

Pines Holler - A Small Town SoL Sandbox RP [NOT Accepting]

Okay, so I plan to use Katherine McNamara as my FC and I think she's gonna be sisters with @princess character. She's gonna be on the younger side, like between 22-25, I haven't decided yet, but she's doing everything she can to provide for her daughter (even secretly unsavory things). They're gonna live in the trailer park and I was hoping for baby daddy to be in the biker gang too, but he's gonna be an asshole lol. Very much just making my characters life hell because he's mad she left him and he doesn't have as much control over her anymore. He's not necessarily a bad guy, just a jerk to her.

I plan on him currently just being an NPC type thing, but if he would interest anyone in playing/fleshing out more, I'm always open for collabing that stuff. Just wanted to add to what I've been figuring out in my head lol.