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Bodhi Krishnan

The Violent

0 · 487 views · located in The Academy of Unseen Arts

a character in “Guardians of Hell”, as played by Chompers

Description

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n i c k n a m e s x // x Bo

a g e x // xtwenty-five

g e n d e r x // xfemale

s e x u a l i t y x // xbisexual

o r i g i n x // xHarpenden, England

r o l e x // xguardian savage






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D E C O R U S


h e i g h t x // x5'11

w e i g h t x // x145 lbs

h a i r x // xsleek, brown

e y e s x // xdark brown

o d d i t i e s x // xnone

a p p e a r a n c e x // xBodhi is the definition of well groomed. She's a perfectionist in all things, she is never seen with a hair out of place or a crease in her clothes. Every item of clothing she wears match perfectly, and she walks around with perfect grace, never stumbling in her heels or slouching. Though there is always an aura of tasteful wealth around her, she'll wear her diamonds, but refined, a single diamond pendant, or two delicate gold rings. She will wear her brand name handbags, but only the bags that have a muted colour palette, not drawing attention to themselves or their brand. She is someone who can afford the perfect wardrobe, but wears it with a casual elegance, not drawing attention to the thousands of dollars she dresses herself in.

Bodhi also carries around with herself a sense of distance. From her face which is always balanced and neutral, never giving away a single underlying emotion. To her large, dark eyes that are speculative of everyone, but give nothing away. There is no warmth to her, posture is crisp, and her gaze is more spectator than friend. And her posh British accent completes the image.






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I N G E N I U M
xxxxxxxxxxxxx a b i l i t y xx \ ə - ˈ b i - l ə - t ē \ x


a b i l i t y x // x Pyrokinesis, the ability to manipulate fire, is the ability that Bodhi will develop as the guardian possesses her. She will be able to summon flames to climb up and around objects/people at will. But once she summons the flames, they will take a life of their own and be hard to control.


N O T A
xxxxxxxxxxxxx f a m i l i a r xx \ f ə - ˈ m i l - y ə r \ x


c o n s t a n t i nx // x a little spiteful thing. An inky black spider, that looks to be a black widow. He spends most his time scurrying up and down Bodhi's limbs or perched on the strap of her handbag.


F O R T I T U D O
xxxxxxxxxxxxx s t r e n g t h xx \ ˈ s t r e ŋ ( k ) t h \ x


p e r f e c t i o n i s t x // x Bodhi won't do anything unless she can do it perfectly. Which leads to flawless incantations, and effortless execution of something as simple as boiling an egg. She will never do anything halfhearted or without effort.

i n t e l l i g e n t x // x Under her father's parentage upkeep of her studies was important. She's not amazingly educated but she's well read, and won't be caught looking a fool.

c a l m x // x she is not ruled by emotions. She maybe a scary kind of calm, but she is calm and level-headed. Always able to think rationally.



I N F I R M I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxxxxx w e a k n e s s xx \ ˈ w ē k - n ə s \ x


p e r f e c t i o n i s t x // x Bodhi won't do anything unless she can do it perfectly. So she doesn't move on from rudimentary spells until they are perfect, and she refuses to try any new skill or spell without immense preparation. Which means that her abilities are often wasted.

h o s t i l e x // x her tendency to push people away at the end of a verbal knife, doesn't lead to her being liked. Or even having friends. And forget teamwork, both her and the people around her would rather she work alone.

h e x e s x // x despite her deepest desire to place hexes on a whole hose of people, she just can't get them right. Which due to her hatred of failure, is a very sore point for her.



M E T U M
xxxxxxxxxxxxx f e a r xx \ ˈ f i r \ x


f a i l u r e x // x with her love of perfection, failure seems like a worst case scenario for Bodhi. It's a fear that often drives her to inaction, and prevents her from trying anything even a smidge out of her comfort zone.

s u r p r i s e s x // x someone who thrives on being collected and poised at all times, isn't someone that deals well with surprises. Bodhi's biggest fear is being caught without her guard of indifference.

f a t h e r x // x she has just gotten free of her father's reign, him coming back to interfere in her new found freedom would shatter the last of her resolve.





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P E R S O N A L I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxx well-mannered xx crisp xx hostile xx perfectionist x


The first thing you'll noticed about Bodhi is that she's raised from wealth - an enormity of it. She has excellence manners, and etiquette is her buzzword. Her refined British accent adding to the image of wealth and dignity. Though to some she gives off an impression of a stuck-up bitch with her wealthy appearance and perfect manners. She would never bump into someone without apologising, and will instinctively hold open a door for another. A lack of refinery and etiquette was a punishable offence in her house growing up. To most people, she holds an air of polite distance as she knows how to be courteous and yet crisp, cutting people off and leaving them no room to continue their association with her. Rude is not a word used to describe Bodhi.

But you'd never describe her as kind either. Bodhi, true to her possessing guardian, is naturally violent. When annoyed by someone, visions of ripping out their eyes, or cutting out vital organs appear like a montage before her, like a comfort blanket soothing her annoyance. She is not physically violent but she wields her words like whips, openly hostile, and cuts people down with verbal assaults. These verbal attacks and visions of inflicting brutal injuries used to be reserved solely for her father. But these days, to anyone who annoys her, she'll not hesitate to utilise gory threats and scathing remarks to break them down. Her default setting is hostile.

However despite her malice and vicious words, anger is an emotion rarely associated with Bodhi. She'd never be ruled by such an uncivilised emotion, there is poise and elegance to her calm threats, making them far more chilling. She's been the hurt one in the past, and now she'd rather be the one attacking, her default setting is to lash out at people before they can do it to her.

Bodhi is a true perfectionist. Her pronunciation is exact and posture is perfect, never a slur to her words, or a slouch to her shoulders. Everything about her is polished, her hair always sleek and her clothing crisp and ironed. She simply prefers things to be exact and precise, imperfections only annoy her. And an annoyed Bodhi takes it out on everyone around her. A day where her hair won't sit right turns into a hostile one for anyone in her way. She has high standards for herself and despises feeling like she's failed her own standards. It’s why she hates losing.






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H I S T O R I A R U M


Bodhi was raised in Harpenden, an hour and half from the inner city of London. She grew up wealthy, surrounded by opulent marble staircases, and friends just as rich as her. Her mother is a meek, mild woman, who turns to retail therapy to fix her marital unhappiness. And her father, despite his intense glares and hours spent in his decadent office, was not a self-made man. Her parents were migrants from India, moving across the seas as young adults, both heralding from elite witch families with sprawling estates. Her father had done very little to justify his immense wealth other than inheriting millions earned through generations of witchcraft, and looking intense in board rooms meetings.

Bodhi is the youngest of three, with two older brothers. And growing up, her father took control of their rearing, and he believed that a firm hand was needed to raise strong witches and warlocks. He was a cruel, punishing man with high standards that three of them would never reach, his disappointment in them was made clear. He withheld love from them all, and Bodhi grew to despise him. Her only respite was that her father refused to send her and her brothers to the London Academy of the Unseen Arts, which he believed accepted far too many commoners. So they were mercifully sent the Birmingham Academy of the Unseen Arts instead where the High Priest was a close, personal friend of their fathers. Which means that their education and progress was closely monitored despite their father being almost two hours away.

However, it wasn't until her middle brother fell in love that she saw how far her father would go. Purporting to love a warlock not from their class was a stupid decision in their father's eyes, but wanting to marry him was a criminal act. He raised his hand to Bodhi and her mother for supporting the couple, and he threw her brother out on the streets with nothing but the items in his pockets. Her brother's name became a taboo word in their house from that day on.

Her mother returned to drinking and shopping herself into a coma. But Bodhi decided to find her own way out, The New York Academy of Unseen Arts, so large and prestige that her father couldn't possibly object. For him it was an association with power and prestige. And for her it was an escape to anywhere he wasn't. So he signed the cheque, large enough that her powers as a witch weren't relevant, and sent her off.






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D O R I A N x F A W K E S
"Good manners is a virtue everyone should strive for."


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Unknowing of Dorian's real identity, Bodhi is completely unaware of her previous association with him in England. She has no deep longing to become his friend, Dorian Fawkes is a nobody from a nobody family. Not someone, a wealthy and respected witch like her would ever seek out. But his good manners do sit well with her and keep her from harbouring any negative feelings towards him.



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T A M S I N x R E I D
"Father would be ashamed to know that I had even traded barbs with her."


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The two girl's paths have crossed many times, since Tamsin is cursed to haunt to the Sanctum till the end of time, and Bodhi must keep up her studies to avoid being dragged back home. Bodhi is never nice, and neither is Tamsin. They trade barbs and insults, but it's not as negative as it seems. Bodhi has a respect for Tamsin's toughness, and she'd never admit it to a soul but she respect Tamsin standing up to the church all those years ago.


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N A M E x L A S T N A M E
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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xdislike xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx like

Put a brief paragraph description about the relationship between the characters, why it is the way it is, etc. Copy and paste this section for each character as you make relations. You don't have to keep this section, if you'd rather not have relations on your CS or public. You can remove the images to the left if you'd rather just have the names. But if you keep the image it is the same size as the character images on the intro, so you can just copy those instead of having to find new if you'd prefer.





h e x c o d e x // x #2D0704 x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x nora attal x // x c r e a t o r x // x Chompers x // x c s x // x mjolnir

So begins...

Bodhi Krishnan's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Dorian Fawkes Character Portrait: Constance Lamotte Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Bodhi Krishnan Character Portrait: Winifred Blanchard Character Portrait: Michael Navarro Character Portrait: Ivy Bishop Character Portrait: Josie Jaiyen Character Portrait: Casper Reid Character Portrait: Neona Ki Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Desdemona Proctor Character Portrait: Emrys Proctor Character Portrait: Roman Black Character Portrait: Rian Goulding
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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#, as written by mjolnir
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dorian fawkes
the charlatanx|xoutfitx|x#8BA3A6

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Saying that Dorian didn't have a good night's sleep was an understatement. Since he arrived at the New England Academy, he's been walking around on eggshells. After all, this was his last chance at a life before the witch council found him out. At this point, it seemed like the safest place for him to hide was under the Church of Night's nose, and that's what he was doing. But it didn't make anything easier.

He spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, or refreshing his memory of witch law. Why did he do that to himself? It didn't calm his nerves, only made them worst. It became a routine nearly ever night, going through and counting the number of laws he'd broken, how many offenses. Dorian was a dead man living on borrowed time. The moment they figured him out, he'd be executed without a doubt. If anything, that should make him wish to live what life he had left to the fullest. But he spent too much time living in fear for that to happen.

Dorian might have dozed off at one point or another, but by the time the sun came up, he was up as well. With a sigh, he finally decided to get up and out of bed. There was no point in lazing around under the blankets for hours when his mind would only wonder to more horrible things the future held. He moved about the room quietly, being sure not to wake up Michael as he went to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door behind him. And with that brief moment of privacy he had, Dorian let his glamour fall.

For so long he hadn't be able to look at his reflection, his true reflection. Looking at himself felt so foreign, but the sadness in the eyes... that never changed. Dorian couldn't look for long and let his focus fall to his hands that gripped the sink. With his gaze diverted, he put the glamour back up. He didn't dare look back in the mirror before he made his way into the shower. There weren't many things that could relax him, but a hot shower seemed to always melt away any worries he had, at least, temporarily.

He quickly lost track of how much time he spent standing under the cascading water, but eventually Dorian finally got out. The rest of the day seemed to crawl by, yet at the same time time ticked by so quickly. Before he knew it, Michael was awake and they both had to begin to get ready. Dorian seemed to wait until the absolute last minute to get changed into his white outfit. Just touching it churned his stomach. The one thought he hadn't let plague his mind is what would signing the book of the beast twice do to him. Would it kill him? Overwhelm him with power? Would Satan himself smite him where he stood?

Dorian hadn't noticed until that moment how much his hands had been trembling. Hopefully to other people it just appeared as normal nerves. But he knew the truth, the fear that built up inside him at the nearing of that night's proceedings. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he took the clothes from the hanger and began to get dressed. Thankfully, his reflection betrayed him. In the mirror, he was a different man... Dorian Fawkes, who was giving his life over to Lucifer for the first time ever. He let that thought repeat over and over in his mind.

Once dressed and as presentable as he could manage, he finally looked over at Michael giving his bravest smile. "Have you decided on your baptismal name? I haven't had much time to think about it myself," he confessed as he sat back down on his bed. "Pearl likes Xavier." As he said her name, his familiar emerged from somewhere under his pillow and slowly climbed onto his hand.




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tamsin reid
cursed witchx|xoutfitx|x#000000

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Tamsin groaned as an alarmed buzzed in her ear from the nightstand beside her bed. Satan, when did she go to bed the night before? 5 am? 6 am? She couldn't remember, just that she saw the pink glow of the sun about to on crest the horizon before she finally tucked in. Her hand slapped the table, missing her clock three times before she sat up and yanked it out from the wall and threw it across the room.

Normal people were usually out of bed before noon. But Tamsin rarely saw a need to be up before 3 pm. She hasn't attended a class at the Academy for over a century. She's already taken every single one they offered to the point of knowing the classes verbatim. And being a creature of the night, she rarely felt a need to be a morning person.

Her arms stretched out in every direction as she yawned. Tamsin's hair stood up on end, but remained flat on the left side of her head from where she was laying. Her fingers ran through her hair and scratched her scalp, un-matting it from the several hours of sleep. She yanked her blanket off of her and slid out of bed in a tank top and underwear. She was far beyond the point of caring about how she was dressed in front of Winnie and if someone else happened to be in their room too? Well, they got a free show. Tamsin lost count of how many times Roman had seen her naked.

Tamsin nearly tore apart her bed, searching within the blankets and under pillows for her phone. She only found it when she heard the device fall onto the ground next to her feet. She scooped it up and sat down on the mound of blankets. A groan escaped her lips as she illuminated her phone. "Satan's balls. It's All Hallow's Eve?!"

She slammed her phone down on her bed before trudging off to their bathroom. Tamsin rarely closed the door as she showered, knowing full well Winnie spent half of her life in front of a mirror trying to look perfect. She tried locking the door once, and somehow still managed to be greeted by the red head standing in front of the mirror by the time she was done. Tamsin has long since given up trying to get the bathroom to herself since then.

Asmodeus Proctor told Tamsin several times leading up to that day that he expected her presence along with the rest of the Academy. The ceremony was the biggest celebration their coven had every year. And although the Anti Pope was too busy to join this year, every member of the coven would be attending, including the Reids. And it wasn't like she'd be allowed to skip the Dark Baptism. She tried once... Let's just saying being a torture spell test subject for a semester was enough for her to not want to miss it again. So, she didn't waste much time washing up, nearly slipping and falling on the tile floor as she exited the shower.

Tamsin wrapped herself in a towel, using a second to dry her hair as she scurried back out into their room. While it temporarily blocked her view, she bumped into someone who stood in the middle of their room. She pulled the towel from her head and groaned the instant she saw Roman Black standing before her with his stupid smug grin. "Ugh," she scoffed. "You look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man... But more sex offender-y." Tamsin wormed her way around him and made her way to her dresser. "Don't you have your own room?"

"Yes, but my roommate isn't my biggest fan."

"Shocker," Tamsin quipped as she yanked open drawers, quickly sifting through what clothes she had clean. She pulled out the first things she found and tossed them onto her bed. She didn't even waste her breath asking Roman to turn around or look away. When she dropped her towel, Tamsin couldn't find her undergarments on the mess that was her bed. After a moment or two of searching, Roman cleared his throat. She turned to look at him, finding him standing there smiling, her underwear hanging off his index finger.

"Grow up, Black," she said as she snatched her panties back and put them on.

"I'll stop when you join us one night," Roman offered as he motioned his hand to Winnie.

Tamsin grabbed her shirt, pulling it on like a vest, turning around to face him as she zipped it up. "I do have standards." Shocking. The girl who pumped herself full of enough substances to euthanize an elephant had standards? Even as she said it, she found it hard to believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.

"And what's that?" Roman asked as he leaned back against the wall on Winnie's side of the room.

"Not you." She smirked towards him as she wiggled into her skinny jeans and fastened them. Tamsin let out a soft sigh of relief now that she was dressed. There was still a bit of time before the Baptism, but seeing Roman in head to toe white get up like a virgin just shit out from heaven, she knew the time was near. If she had to guess, she wouldn't see much of Casper that evening. With the rest of the Reid family present and their clear hatred of her... She'd be left to her own devices for the ceremony.

Tamsin's bare feet tapped along the wood floor as she made her way back to the bathroom, this time closing the door. There was only one instance where she closed the door, and Winnie knew this. It was the one time she wouldn't be bothered. Some shuffling could be heard coming from the bathroom, the sound of the lid on the toilet being moved, some tapping and then the door opened back up. Tamsin walked out sniffing and rubbing her nose, flashing a smile to the other two in the room. It was no secret to anyone at the Academy that she was a junkie. And at this point, she barely felt the effects. It was more like caffeine than a high, no doubt another gift from Lucifer so she couldn't even have an escape or be numb from the torture he's put her through.

She wasn't in the mood to linger and watch the rabbits hump one out before the Dark Baptism. Tamsin didn't even waste her time, finishing getting ready in her room, instead putting her sunglasses on her head and snatched up the rest of what she planned to wear along with her purse. "If you're going to have sex you have about 30 minutes. Not that it would be an issue for Sparky here," Tamsin said as she patted Roman's shoulder. She then grimaced, pinching the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. "Well, if you do you should do it naked. This fabric will wrinkle if you breathe on it wrong."

With nothing more to add, Tamsin nodded causing her sunglasses to slip down from her head and land on the bridge of her nose. "Later, pornstars." She slipped out of their dorm room, closing the door behind her. With a sigh, she walked barefoot down the hallway until she reached one of the small common areas. Thankfully no one else seemed to be there, for the time being.

She found a free spot on the ground and dropped all of her shit. The movement must have startled Chesare, who's white head poked out of her bag to look up at Tamsin, sticking his tongue out at her. "Sorry," she apologized before sitting down next to him. Without needing to rush as much, she lit a cigarette, not particularly worried about getting caught smoking inside the dormitories. Tamsin then took the time to finish getting ready, even putting on a little make up... basically just heavy ass eyeliner.





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roman black
the lecherx|xoutfitx|x#AC945A

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Roman's mother had been preparing him for this day for years. What is to be expected of him, what will happen, what it means. But no matter how much she prepared him for it, it still didn't calm his nerves. It was strange for someone like himself to be anxious but this was the day he's been waiting for. To accept Satan into his life, into his heart. To be a servant of the Dark Lord. He knew others trembled at the thought, but he has been waiting for this moment... To make his mother proud.

He started getting ready far earlier than someone normally would, but this was his day. Roman spent at least an hour in the shower, perfecting himself for the Dark Lord. He even decided to shave, trying to be his best self. For months he had his outfit planned and set aside for just this occasion. Rome was never a fan of white clothes, especially an all white outfit. He never found it to be very flattering. But, he knew they were supposed to appear virginal on the night of the Dark Baptism. Being virginal was another thing entirely, but he was twenty-five, what did the Dark Lord expect?

Roman didn't pay much attention to his roommate as he finished getting ready, not that he paid much attention to Bones on most days anyway. He gave himself a final once over in the mirror, slicking his hair back before he grabbed his jacket. He headed out of the boys' dormitory, finally putting his jacket on as he crossed the green toward the girl's dorms. Although they were forced to be in separate buildings, the Academy didn't seem to pay much of a mind to them spending however much time in which ever building they preferred. After all, the Dark Lord had no issue with sexual exploits.

In no time, he had reached Winifred's room. He didn't knock, instead letting himself in as he often did. "Good evening, darling," Roman said in greeting as he crossed the room. He came up behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders before placing a soft kiss upon her cheek. "Beautiful as always."

He softly brushed the skin of her shoulder with his thumb before he made his way over to one of her mirrors to check his appearance again. He tugged on the cuffs of his shirt and adjusted his cufflinks. Roman could hear the sound of the shower coming from their bathroom as he looked around seeing the chaotic state of Tamsin's side of the room. "I see the old lady is up at a normal time." He chuckled softly, glancing back over to the stunning red head.

And as if he spoke of Lucifer himself, the brunette came out of the bathroom in a whirlwind. Of course, she couldn't walk past him without their usual pleasantries and banter. As much as she annoyed him, and boy did she... Roman did enjoy catching her when she wasn't presentable. Anyone who thought she wasn't attractive was blind or stupid. And with her fiery nature, she had to be a tomcat in the sack. One day he'd find out. For now, he had to settle for stealing her underwear as she tried to get dress and enjoy the brief extra moment of her naked presence.

Once she was gone, Roman sat down on Winnie's bed. "As much as I'd love a roll in the sheets before signing my name in the book of the beast, I did spend exceptionally long getting ready today." He crossed his right leg over his left. He also knew full well that once she had started getting ready, there was no hope of ruining her work either. What could he say? They were both vain. "Although, I wouldn't mind a celebratory shag later." He smiled at her, raising a brow.

After sometime sitting there, Roman leaned back on her bed slightly, playing with the tassels on one of her frilly decorative pillows."Do you think everyone will go through with it?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Bodhi Krishnan Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Rian Goulding
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bones burroughs
the kid | outfit | #167f40


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Bones was woken far too early for his liking. He’d been forced awake at what felt like the crack of dawn as Roman had pranced about, noisily getting ready for his dark baptism. He’d taken hours deciding on his outfit and doing his hair and whatever else he spent all his time doing, Bones would never understand how one single person could spend so much time staring longingly at their own reflection. And he couldn’t be cajoled by Bones sleepy grumbles to hurry up either.

Eventually Roman left, but Bones didn’t get any peace as his phone start blaring into the silence. He fumbled for the phone and with a scowl, he silenced its ringing almost immediately. His father had decided to make the trek down for the dark baptism – the schmoozer that he was – and he’d been trying to contact Bones for weeks. Of course, Bones hadn’t answered any of his numerous calls and texts.

Officially deciding he wasn’t getting anymore sleep, Bones rolled out of bed and in contrast to his fussy roommate, he threw on the first thing he found on the floor of his cupboard. Where there was a whole pile of assorted clothes since Bones wasn’t the cleanest guy.

Leaving his room, he found Tamsin scowling into a mirror. “Hey Tam,” He said, flopping against the wall across from her. He made sure to sit a little bit down from her, so that he wouldn’t catch any of the smoke from her cigarette. He wasn’t one of those conservative prudes, but considering he had scars from the three surgeries he’d had to save his lungs, he kind of respected their wellbeing.

It was easy to guess the reason Tamsin was dropped in a common room rather than her own perfectly good dorm. “Let me guess, Roman’s screwing Win’s brains out right about now?” He made a face at the thought. Winifred was like a sister to him, an annoying, bratty one, but the vision of her having sex was not something Bones wanted to dwell on.

Bones let Tamsin get on with her getting ready, and instead he watched as people wandered in out and out of the common room. Some of them, nervous and skittish in their full white outfits. He nodded towards a pair that were leaving the common room looking particularly pale. “They’re all so fucking nervous.” Bones may have only been 23, considered young by the batch of witches to be baptised, but since he had belong to a Canadian coven he’d gone through his dark baptismal over seven years ago. He was going to make sure no one forgot that he’d been a proper witch for way longer than any of them. “I barely remember mine. How’d they do the whole baptism thing in the dark ages?”





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bohdi krishnan
the savage | outfit | #2d0704


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Bodhi had been up and about since dawn. She needed to look perfect today, not that perfection was any different from her usual décor. Her white dress had arrived from home three weeks earlier, and this morning she’d done her hair and makeup before most of the academy had left their beds. Her hair was sitting perfectly, and her look was completed with two diamond studs and a small, insanely expensive, diamond pendant. After getting ready she’d headed to library determined to get a bit of study in today, around all the formalities.

Bodhi uncrossed and recrossed her legs as she reread the same paragraph for the fifth time without taking in a single word. The large dusty tomb in front of her was supposed to explain the history of nature magic in Thailand, but it might as well have been one of the bodice ripper novels her mother read for the all the information she was absorbing from it. Today was an important day, but waiting for it was killing Bodhi who had little patience at the best of times.

She recalled her father’s phone call that morning. He talked endlessly about how important today was, and how important it was that Bodhi made their family proud. Just thinking about the phone call had Bodhi’s hand crumpling the page she held. She couldn’t help that thoughts that flittered through her head, visions of wrapping her hands around her father’s throat and squeezing until he couldn’t speak another word.

She took a deep breath and smoothed out the paper underneath her hand. Constantin, the inky black spider perched on her shoulder, took this as an invitation as he scurried down her arm and across the page of the history book, obscuring the words. She shot him a cold glare but her voice was calm, “Move. Before I rip off one of those legs.” He bowed his front legs, and Bodhi could have sworn he hissed, but he did eventually shuffle aside. And with a sigh, Bodhi returned to the paragraph in front of her determined not to waste the entirety of this morning.





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isaac courtney
the undying | outfit | #934016


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Isaac watched a black shape streak across the sky, Nostradamus. It had to be over 100 years since he’d last seen his familiar and he considered his reappearance a bad omen. Nostradamus didn’t stay long, he just flew a couple circles around Isaac, squawking a few times, before disappearing from whatever hole he’d sprung from. Isaac was left with the thought that he had a lousy excuse for a familiar. There was nothing familiar about Nostradamus, he just came and went as he liked.

Throwing the last of his cigarette into the dirt, Isaac stomped it down with his shoe before heading through the front doors of the New York Academy of the Unseen Arts. It’d been 20 or so years since he’d last walked these halls, but nothing ever really changed. He found his new room pretty quickly and with a single knock he let himself in. “I hope you weren’t expecting this room to yourself for the rest of the year.” He said to his roommate, as he threw his duffel bag and jacket onto the bed that was clearly left untouched for his arrival. He didn’t bother unpacking, he hardly had enough possessions to make it worth it.

Officially, Isaac was enrolled and had received his room assignment two months ago, but he’d gotten a little delayed on the way here – mostly trying to avoid crossing paths with the Anti-Pope himself during the dark baptism. But when news reached him that Lucifer wasn’t making an appearance, he’d booked a red-eye flight from Abu Dhabi. No doubt his roommate would have questions about his two months absence, and now sudden appearance without warning.

Isaac yawned and rubbed at the stubble sprouting across his face, he was exhausted, not only was he jetlagged, but he hadn’t got any sleep on his journey either. He hated planes, what was so wrong with train carriages, or ships? He pulled a bottle of whiskey out his bag and took a large mouthful, it might have been mid-morning, but it was 5 o’clock somewhere. He held out the bottle to his roommate, “A drink before the ritual slaughtering begins?” It was easy to joke about it when it didn’t affect you and you didn’t care.

Isaac threw the bottle back on to his bed and looked about the small room – this had been the same room he’d been assigned in 1934, thankfully they’d repainted it in a neutral grey since then. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and decided pretty quickly that they sleep rumpled and slightly sweaty t-shirt he’d worn for the flight probably wasn’t going to cut it at the Dark Baptism. So he ripped off his t-shirt and grabbed a button up shirt from his bag – it was creased from being screwed up in the bag which made a small part of him cringe. After all he’d lived through eras where an unkempt appearance was considered a flaw in of one’s character. While changing, he gave his roommate a good look at the tattoo on his pec, a love heart tattoo with Kelsie written on the inside. Not that he cared for modesty.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bodhi Krishnan Character Portrait: Neona Ki Character Portrait: Desdemona Proctor Character Portrait: Emrys Proctor
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━━━━━━━ DESDEMONA PROCTOR
the empressXXXXattire: xXXXX hex: #a2a7b8
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━━━━━━━━━━ EMRYS PROCTOR
the necromancerXXXXattire: xXXXX hex: #b8a7a2
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ NEONA KI
the avariceXXXXattire: xXXXX hex: #896767
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The room was warm with the scent of sage, the candles flickered with growing fervor, casting wanton shadows on the wall. As the warlock's incantations grew steadily more fervent, the shadows turned to hands, grasping and reaching, clawing at the walls of the room as though trying to climb them. The spirits were listening, and they were answering- but they weren't the spirits he wanted.

"Led by the scent of sage, Abel veni foras. By the mark of my blood, Abel veni foras. By the lure of my will,
Abel veni foras!"

He opened his eyes, and the room was far larger than it had been before, and devoid of everything except the mark he had made in blood on the floor. On the plane, his hand was flawless and unmarred; evidence of his projection unto a world separate to his own. He got to his feet, and called into the dark. "Abel!" He felt a hand reach for his shoulder, but shook it off once he saw the spirit's solemn face. An irrelevant soul. One with a message, probably, but not one he cared to hear. "Abel, are you out there?" More reaching hands, more spirits with stories and messages and a yearning for warm touch. He pushed through the growing crowd, "Where-" A retreating back that looked too familiar- the same cloudy locks, the same narrow shoulders. "Abel? Abel! Wait!" He moved with desperate abandon, clawing through the space, through the spectres. But the distance between them only seemed to grow, and suddenly he felt as though he were wading through water, like running in a dream. "Abel, please! Stop!" The figure paused, and hope caught in the warlock's throat. He was so close- Abel was so close. 'Abel' turned slightly, his face obscured in the dark.

And then he turned back, and kept walking, and Emrys blinked to find himself back in his room, the candles blown out, and the shadows returned to their rightful place. Standing up, his right hand was slightly sticky from the cut across his palm, and his cheeks were wet with tears of frustration. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Emrys promptly began to destroy his bedroom.

He was minutes into his rampage when the glutton appeared at his door, poking her head through to catch the shocking sight of his anger unleashed. He hadn't expected to get caught in the act, but his eyes still saw red, and he had no energy for explanations or excuses.

"Get out."
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On the eve of a number of Dark Baptisms, Emrys wasn't alone in his sleeplessness. Neo saw them- her parents, holding out their hands. Their smiles were warm, their words welcoming. But when she reached to hold them, their faces melted like wax, and their hands turned to ash in her own. Screams echoed about her as she found herself falling, and when she finally awoke, she was in a cold sweat.

By the time morning hit, however, one could never tell.

Her attire was adjusted in silence, her face unyielding, giving away no sense of a whirring mind, nor a deepset resentment. Nor the touch of concern.

She had never gotten to write her name in the Book of the Beast- she did not entirely know the ramifications that would follow. Perhaps the ills she planned to commit once she amassed enough power would result in a terrible fate. Perhaps she would burn. Then again, perhaps she would be rewarded for her dedication to revenge, her commitment to vindication. Perhaps He liked that in his witches.

To be honest, it was all only so relevant. It raised curiosities, and slight concerns, but it didn't cause her to waver. Nothing did, and nothing would.

She had a thirst to sate, and this was just another sip from the goblet.

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Desdemona smiled at her reflection, as she was wont to. She wanted to ask Bodhi what she thought, but the girl, ever studious, had promptly left for the library early that morning. She tutted with annoyance as she once again noted her friend's absence, instead turning to Corvus, who sensed her gaze from his perch on her bedframe, and lazily opened one of his slate grey eyes. "Thoughts?" He gave her a long, considering look before his eyes shut again and he returned to his dozing. Des scowled.

"Asshole."

By the time she was finally satisfied with her appearance, Corvus had finally risen, giving her an apologetic nuzzle for his earlier sleepy dismissal before taking flight from her window. Des watched him go before taking one more glance in the mirror, leaving her room satisfied that, her night or not, she wouldn't be upstaged.

Emrys' own time spent getting ready had been considerably less enjoyable; his mind and sleep disrupted by memories of the series of events from the evening prior. He had never felt so close before, but instead of giving him hope, it had left him more resentful than ever, and he glared at his reflection, eyes touched by the shadows of sleeplessness.

"You look tired."

Emrys was used to Des just wandering in, and didn't even spare her a glance before replying.

“It's just nerves."

It was a lie, and an obvious one too. Des knew fully well that Emrys didn't get nerves. All the same, she could read the room even better than she could read her brother, and knew better than to pry. Or she should have, but then again, it was an important day, and after a moment of consideration, she decided that the air would taste better cleared.

“Still no luck with-?”

The never-cowed witch fell silent upon meeting his cool glower. Her first instinct should have been listened to; Emrys was clearly not in a sharing mood. Not even with her. She allowed her look of concern to turn into a reluctant smile, smoothly changing the subject. Whatever was responsible for the dark circles under Emrys' eyes, it could wait. After all, they had an important task ahead of them, and if she had any clue as to the source of Emrys' ire, another day of waiting would be little difference.

“Right, let’s get going, brother dearest. Bodhi should still be in the library. We'll pick up Neo on the way.” Befitting his mood, although he was indeed in the process of building up his usual pantomime of unwavering confidence, Emrys said nothing, sliding his hands into his pockets and following his sister as he had long-since learnt to.

By the time they met with Neona, and the two girls had exchanged their obligatory compliments, the mirage was flawless, and he glowed as the trio made their way to the library, finding Bodhi in her usual seat. Leaning over her, Des looked her up and down with a smile.

“I like it. Very 60's-housewife-married-to-a-millionaire-and-fucking-the-pool-boy.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Constance Lamotte Character Portrait: Bodhi Krishnan Character Portrait: Neona Ki Character Portrait: Desdemona Proctor Character Portrait: Emrys Proctor Character Portrait: Lucia DuBois
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Desdemona had grown used to the barbs Bodhi sent her way. To be completely honest, any stranger would probably assume they were sworn enemies, rather than close friends; their relationship was funny, that way. Perhaps it was a consequence of their respectfully dysfunctional upbringings, but that was simply how they displayed affection to each other. Hence, the only reaction Bodhi's harsh comment received from Des was a wry smile, followed by an equally vicious rebuttal.

"No apology necessary. You had to take inspiration from someone, after all. And I'd hardly recommend your own mother."

Bodhi's step ahead was, strangely, far more offensive to her, and Des' brow rose in slight indignation before deciding to ignore it. Perhaps she was feeling jovial today, or perhaps Bodhi simply looked especially pretty all in white, but she chose to tether her irritation. Instead, she smirked, letting Bodhi have her fun. Especially when that fun was directed towards Lucia, irritating glutton that she was. Normally, a witch such as Lucia would be nothing more than an irrelevant, if slightly irritating mar to Des' periphery. The girl was not the sort to attract Des' attention, neither positively nor negatively, and such a nonexistent relationship is one she's sure they would have both been satisfied with.

Lucia's relationship with Emrys, however, had soiled any such possibility. Emrys was hardly prey to the black widow, he wasn't nearly so malleable, but the French witch brought out something in her brother that made him reckless for all the wrong reasons. It frustrated Des, and sometimes it frightened her.

“My father writes that the standards here are falling behind expectations. I agree with him of course. These days it seems that they’ll admit anyone. Even gluttonous drunks it appears.”

Eyeing the pair now, she replied to Bo with venom in her voice, "Standards have most certainly slipped. I'll be sure to amend that when I inherit my father's position."

Neo, who up until that point had remained quiet, tutted playfully at the girls, "Then again, aren't we encouraged to revel in sin? Perhaps Lucia's just ahead of the curve." She said it lightly enough, with no argumentative edge to her voice. It was nought but a gentle musing posed to ease the tension. A tension that always seemed to rise when witches with egos as big as those of her current companions' were in the same space together for more than a brief moment.

Des scoffed, resting an ebony-nailed hand on Neo's shoulder, "You're too soft, Neo. Revelling in sin is one thing. Fixating on it to the point of primality is quite another."

"Perhaps I am, or perhaps I don't want my roommate to hex me while I'm asleep because you and Bodhi insisted on throwing shade."

She retained her light tone, but her casual attempt to diffuse the situation went about as successfully as she expected. Des removed her hand from the girl's shoulder, offering her a faux-apologetic smile and a what-can-I-say? shrug, and Neo to raised a brow in a mixture of exasperation and resignation. Oh well, at least I tried.

Emrys, meanwhile, wasn't listening to the conversation whatsoever. Their words, familiar in their disdainful nature, passed over him as though he were caught in a separate, silent world. A bubble of his own thoughts. And in that bubble with him was Lucia. He glanced at her, remembering their exchange from the night before. They hadn't spoken since then, not that they had had any opportunity to, but still, the air between them was thick with words left unspoken, and actions unexplained. 'Get out,' he had said, deftly twisting what was initially a mutually reckless and untethered relationship into something far less comfortable. Just like that, someone had come, uninvited, to catch him at one of his weakest moments.

He looked away.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Constance Lamotte Character Portrait: Bodhi Krishnan Character Portrait: Neona Ki Character Portrait: Desdemona Proctor Character Portrait: Emrys Proctor Character Portrait: Lucia DuBois
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the glutton | outfit | #FD0E53

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the traitor | outfit | #863348

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"You're lucky, you're cute. 'Sides, I need someone to tell me how great I look."

Lucia stared up at Constance with a glint in her eye, unphased by the scolding that had just been delivered. She’d been on the end of worse tongue lashings. There was no sense in defending her own actions, not when Constance seemed to be in such a forgiving mood. Pressing herself against her, Lucia rested her chin on Constance’s shoulder while keeping the same pace. Her lips were hovered just below Constance’s ear, her breath on Constance’s skin as she spoke.

“But of course, you are an image of perfection; a work of art; a masterpiece.” Lucia ran her free hand along the flowers stitched onto the delicate lace of her dress along Constance’s arm. The young witch gave no small compliments, especially when it came to her better half. Constance's smirk grew as Luci complimented her. To say that was the only reason she kept the Parisian around would be a lie, but it was definitely a contributing factor. Showering Connie with compliments was Luci's specialty and Constance loved it.

She turned her eyes to Luci who was resting on her shoulder and gave her the biggest of smiles. The truest form of achievement from Constance. A genuine smile. They didn't come often but, when they did more than likely Luci was the cause and today was a day she couldn't help but be filled with her own personal form of glee. To the outside world, and perhaps even mortal when the pair venture off academy grounds, the pair seemed oddly closer or even dating to most who didn't know the pair personally. To everyone who did know them - it was still odd but, it was just Luci and Constance.

She gave Constance’s hand a squeeze before peeling herself from the witch’s side, still keeping their step-in sync and their fingers linked. A foul presence filled the corridor, Lucia could feel them before she saw them. Bodhi was ahead of the pack, unusual but nevertheless unsurprising. Lucia felt herself rolling her eyes before she could catch herself, looking to Constance with an expression of annoyance. Bodhi was usually too concerned with her image to be seen talking to someone with such a mediocre pedigree as Lucia, but Desdemona had made it a point to be a source of aggravation in Lucia’s life.

“Ugh, I knew I smelled something rotten.” She said to Constance, looking back over to the immaculately designed clique as they approached one another. Luci may have hated the group that the pair had encountered but, Constance's relationship with them were a tad more... complex. She looked at her friend. "Now, Luci, play nice."She tolerated Bodhi because she had to, both of them came of family from high regards and Constance knew she had to play nice, at least, around other people. She offered a small and very fake smile towards the girl. "Bodhi. Happy dark baptism."

Bodhi’s stare was laced with venom as it settled on Lucia. She looked back with a brazen smile, giving a cheeky little wave and a wink as Bodhi gave a curt and reluctant acknowledgement to Constance. Neo gave neither of them any notice, not that Lucia expected otherwise. The woman barely acted like she existed in their own dorm room, but it didn’t stop Lucia from offering her a smile. When Desdemona’s eyes lingered on hers, Lucia felt her lips fall into a devilish smirk. She knew the disdain the woman held for her. Usually Lucia would enjoy evoking such an ugly emotion from someone with such little effort, however given Desdemona’s status and family, Lucia couldn’t take her normal route of dealing with such pests. Besides, Constance wouldn't have it.

The twins were a different story for the blonde witch, Emrys was someone she tolerated. She didn't mind him other than when he swooped Luci away leaving Constance to entertain herself until they had finished pissing of Desdemona in their own special and phallic way. And then there was, Des. Constance smirked as she noticed Luci and Des pretty throwing daggers at one another. She knew her companion despised her, but Constance couldn't. Des was, as Constance called her, her favorite little opponent at the academy. Not that she let Luci really know that, she didn't need the small woman complaining about it. She heard enough about her disdain for Bodhi. Constance looked Desdemona in her own way and with a wink as the two groups walked passed one another.

Catching herself before her gaze drifted to Emrys, Lucia felt her chest tighten. She wasn’t used to having to be careful around him, for so long they’d been are lease for one another. There was comfort in the distance they had between them, but now she’d crossed a line and saw something she wasn’t meant to. Unfiltered rage.

She looked over her shoulder as they passed the group, lingering her stare on Emrys until they turned down a hall and out of sight. A part of her wondered if he caught a glimpse of her too, if there was still heaven’s smite in his eyes. Biting her lip she glanced over to Constance to see if she’d notice the shift in Lucia’s energy. She hadn’t seen Constance since witnessing the aftershock of Emrys’ rage, the day of their dark baptism hardly seemed like the day to sit around talking about boys.

Constance raised an eyebrow as she kept her eyes forward. She could feel Luci's sadness from here. "You're sulking. It is our dark baptism, there is no room for sulking and pity parties. Now what'd the Proctors do this time and which one was it?" Before Luci even said anything, Constance was concocting hexes in her head, nothing too bad, but something too bold for anyone other her to put on the High Priest's children. Neither of them scared her and honestly, she didn't really need to reason or an explanation on what they did to her Luci, but it did help.

"Nothing worth lingering on," was all Lucia could think to say. There were no secrets between her and Constance, but this was something else. She told herself she didn't want to burden Constance with such petty issues on such a momentous day, but a piece of her felt a sense of obligation to Emrys to keep his secret. At least for now. "I just want to think about us today, no need to waste time on such trivial matters."

Lucia pulled Constance into the room where she'd been keeping her sacrifice. It was a long-abandoned classroom, covered in a layer in dust and flooded with natural light. She had chosen the room for the windows, large panes that filled the wall facing the Eastern sun - the perfect home for her sacrifice. Student’s had a choice to just be given a sacrifice, but Lucia had been raised differently. Ritualistic magic was in her family’s blood, traditions around it were taught cutting no corners. Lucia had always been taught a sacrifice was only worth what it meant to you. She could have just acquired one the day of, most did. However, Lucia wanted to love her sacrifice, to spoil it and care for it. She wanted her heart to break when she heard the snap of its neck to push her further down the path of darkness.

Sitting in a large, well-kept cage in the window the rat poked his head up as she cooed from across the room. It recognized her, knew she came with treats and affection. She fed the rat a carrot, poking it through the metal grate into its tiny hands. It took the root vegetable greedily, chewing at it faster than he could swallow. He was oversized, fat from lack of exercise and a boundless diet. Her smile was filled with melancholy, her heart suddenly rushed with an overwhelming sense of sadness for the rodent. It only meant her sacrifice would mean so much more. Opening the door to the cage carefully, she lured the rat into her hand. It came readily, curling into her palm as she pulled him into the curve of her chest. Constance looked at the fat vermin with slight disgust before swiping her hand to move a pile of an old wooden desk out of the way of her sacrifice. It wasn't a live animal like Luci but, it was something too brought emotion out her. Unconditional Spite, her specialty. She picked up the medallion by the chain.

Inscribed on the back was the Lamotte family name and the year they got their start in New Orleans. She slightly chuckled as she looked it over, it had been in their family for generations. Pass down all the way her uncle, then stole by her father, who swore to give it to Constance on her Dark Baptism. He treated this necklace like a child. It was what her entire family was after and after it was thought to be lost in Hell with Damien, here it was, now around the neck of the one person the family swore would never have it. It was a shame that no one would be here to see her set it ablaze. But, she'd get over it. She turned back to Luci and ran her long nails through Luci's short bob.

"I don’t know if you sacrificin' a rat of all things is either endearing, sociopathic, or both." She saw the small tinge of sadness in her friends eyes and sighed. Now she had to actually be nice, great."Luci, you've done far worse than snap a small pest's neck for this to be the thing that truly upset you." She knew the girl's process with ritual but, she needed to make sure Luci's sadness wasn’t enough to make her falter in anyway. She ran one finger over the back side of the little pest before lifting Luci's chin to look her in the eyes. "This lil' vermin is the only thing keepin' you from that destiny predicted by the Dark Lord. Remember that when you're up there and snap it's neck. 'sides, it would hurt a Heaven of a lot more if you gave the thing a name." She kissed her forehead.

Lucia closed her eyes with contentment, leaning into Constance. To finally have this day upon them was nothing short of bliss. For so long she’d had it hanging over her head, like a ticking time bomb. Finally, it would come to an end and she could sign herself to the dark lord, then the suspense would at last come to an end. She held the rat so that he was eye level, searching his pointed face. "It is only is a sacrifice if it hurts. It’s meant to cause pain, or else it has no meaning."

It was a phrase she’d heard over and over since she was old enough to listen, albeit in French. She’d offered live sacrifices before, and it would hurt every time. Allowing yourself to become desensitized was prohibited, those who had to numb themselves to endure were weak. After a moment Lucia pulled the rat back into her chest, smiling as it curled up against her.

“Don’t worry, not even Lucifer himself can keep me from signing my name in His book tonight.” Lucia assured Constance, giving Constance a soft kiss on her cheek before linking their fingers with one another again. Her voice had an unnerving cheer, her sinister words contrasting her dulcet tone. “I’d kill a thousand pets, and then some, so long as I get to do it with you.”

cron