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Bones Burroughs

The Kid

0 · 173 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 Bones | everyone , Win | father

a g e x // xtwenty-three

g e n d e r x // xmale

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

o r i g i n x // xmontreal, canada

r o l e x // xwarlock






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D E C O R U S


h e i g h t x // x5'10

w e i g h t x // x147 lbs

h a i r x // xFlat black

e y e s x // xCrisp blue

o d d i t i e s x // xBones has a whole scattering of tattoos across both arms, left leg and chest. Some are coloured, some are black and white, and none of them match each other. He got his first one at 14 in an act of rebellion and since then his decision making when it comes to putting permanent marks on his body hasn't gotten any better. None of his tattoos look particularly impressive, and most look like he got them for free from someone who needed a model to practice on before actually charging someone for their services.

a p p e a r a n c e x // xAs a child born premature and sick, it follows that Bones is small. He's shorter than average as his frame is scrawny. All lean and lanky, which doesn't make him impressive or scary when he's angry and all up in your face. Though it does add to his insecurities.

However his face doesn't match his frame, his glare is harder than it has any right to be. The strong, stubborn line of his jaw when he's annoyed tells you that, he might be scrappy but he is a fighter, and he won't roll over and let you take what is his. He's got a sprinkling of scars here and there collected from dumb decisions, and his clothes tend to leans towards teenage runaway more than anything else. He never much had a care for fashion.






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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 a l i x x // x a tortoise shell cat, that looks more like roadkill than anything that should be walking around. Small, scrappy, missing an ear and with scars marring most her fur. She hisses at everyone and everything. Bones has a soft spot for her.


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


l i n e a g e x // x Bones is from a long and impressive witch line, not only does this gain him prestige among witches and warlocks, but he is blessed with the immense power and capabilities of his bloodline.

s t u d y x // x when socialisation and sports are out of the question there isn't much left. Especially growing up with his father. If he couldn't practice spells much, he would spend his time learning the theory of them, everyday for most his childhood.

d a u n t l e s s x // x Bones is long past letting his physical limitations rule him. He won't be intimidating by larger bodies or talked down to by anyone more powerful than him, regardless of if it gets him killed.



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


s e n s i t i v e x // x he is overly sensitive to negative comments, always taking them in the worst direction. His emotional sate is far to easily influenced into the extremes.

p h y s i c a l i t y x // x a stunted growth when he was young has left him physically smaller than most men his age. His shoulders are broad like his fathers, but on his short, lanky frame they don't mean much. While he's not afraid of physical fights and will do his best, it's clear his scrappy fighting style puts him at a clear disadvantage. You won't be turning to him to help open the pickle jar.

s t a m i n a x // x whilst his body has grown, and his immune system developed, he is still more susceptible to illness than most. Prolonged exercise and sport are still off the table, and he will get run down easily. Magic practice is still something that tires him more than his peers, making him unable to truly utilise the immense power of his ancestors.



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


p i t y x // x Bones doesn't want pity, he was offered enough of it in his youth. He never again wants to be associated with weakness, so save your pity for someone actually needing it.

i l l n e s s x // x his immune system will never be the same as his peers, and one bad illness could see him into worse health than ever. And he never wants to go back to that place, where he was unable to take part in life and fight for himself. Nothing could be worse than being sick and weak again.

t h u n d e r x // x he has always had a fear of thunder, it's irrational, and another weakness he will never reveal to anyone. The booming nature of it scares the wits out of him.





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P E R S O N A L I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxxxxx defensive xx closed off xx sensitive xx rebellious x


As a boy, Bones learnt that the greatest sin of all is weakness. Which explains a lot about the man he is growing into. Growing up sickly and weak, judged as less than by his father, has left him with a list of insecurities a mile long. Insecurities that he considers a weakness, which is perhaps why he’s more sensitive than most. He doesn't just have a chip on his shoulder, he got a whole bag of them. All insults towards him will receive a reaction, and he tends to view even harmless neutral comments in a negative light. He is incredibly defensive, always feeling like he’s on the back foot and everyone is against him, so he lashes out at people, making snarky comments or just getting physical with them. He has an incredibly poor control over his emotions and anger. Always getting angry and bitter over what most people would consider as nothing.

Another weakness that his father instilled him was showing emotions. So something as natural as showing concern for his friends is something he actively tries to hide. His gut instinct is to shut down all signs of him caring for people. In the same way that he hides his fears and sadness behind anger or snark. Revealing any of these weak emotions is something that Bones really struggles with, he thinks if he shows someone that he cares that they’ll view him as weak. The same with revealing his insecurities, the worst thing he can imagine is being on the receiving end of sympathy. So he lashes out, preferring people dislike him than give him pity.

Bones has a tendency to hero-worship. His respect is hard earned, but once you have it, he will put you up on a pedestal whether you like it or not. Always looking up to you and ready to follow you anywhere, if you give the word. He’s not going to endlessly drown you in compliments but he won’t take anyone talking down to you, and will defend you until the end of his days. More than him ignoring your imperfections, Bones will simply fail to see them at all, even if others point them out.

For Bones, somewhere in his head, rules and authority will always be wrapped up in his complicated feelings of his father. And given their less than stellar relationship, it’s no wonder that he has such a poor relationship with following rules. The idea of actually doing what someone orders him to do makes his blood curl. When ordered to do one thing, instincts will drive Bones in the opposite direction.






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H I S T O R I A R U M


Bones' father, a strict prideful man, is a well known and widely respected high priest of his own Coven located in Montreal, Canada. Bones' great grandmother was also the founder of the Sherbrooke Seminary of the Unseen Arts, founded one hundred and eighty years ago. The Burroughs are a long and impressive bloodline, firmly placed as leaders of the Montreal Coven. So why knowing that did Bones choose to travel overseas to gain an education in the witch arts?

Bones was born one month and three weeks premature, his mother's labor was brought on by a car accident that claimed her life. A death his father couldn't prevent despite his vast power. And that should have been the end of Bones' life too, more fetus than baby, requiring tubes to feed and breathe. They said he wouldn't last the night. Then they said he wouldn't last the week. But he did, Bones' kept on living through all the surgeries to fix his underdeveloped organs, much to the chagrin of his father.

Bones' poor start to life trailed him through his childhood with stunted growth and an extremely low immunity. The heir to the Burroughs's name and lineage was a sickly looking child who couldn't step outside the front doors without catching pneumonia. It made his father equal parts furious and distant. Bones was kept apart from the coven for his health, but it was also an act of a father hiding his weak child. A child who's body couldn't even stand up to practicing magic, just simple spells would take too great a toll on Bones' body, wasting the power of the Burroughs's lineage in his father's mind. At best, his proud father was disinterested him, at worst, full of disdain.

Bones did grow older though, and his body caught up with him.His immunity eventually grew stronger, a bad cold could still catch up with him when he runs himself down, but the sickly child of his youth is no longer. Unfortunately, his relationship with his father didn't recover over time. His strong family heritage has made him a very capable and talented warlock, which made his father finally take an interest in his son but it was too late. Bones would not be used as a prop for his father to show off only when it pleased him, as shown by the fuss his father made of his Dark Baptism, which took place when he was 16, the usual age in Canada.

So after his Dark Baptism he left, packing his bags and heading to New York city. He's settled in with the New York Coven and is attending the New York Academy of the Unseen Arts, his family lineage all but guaranteeing him acceptance. Studiously ignoring his father's monthly letters that demand his return. He's been with the academy for seven years now, but because of his younger age than all American witches he tends to be looked down on as just a kid. Which he has a big chip on his shoulder about.






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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.


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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.


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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 #167f40 x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x ash stymest x // x c r e a t o r x // x Chompers x // x c s x // x mjolnir

So begins...

Bones Burroughs'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

0.00 INK

#, 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: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Lucia DuBois

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the glutton | outfit | #FD0E53
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Lucia never slept much, usually only long enough for the last of the alcohol to leave her system. Last night she fell asleep with her legs wrapped around the lucky warlock she went home with, bathing in the last of the moonlight. She awoke before the morning dew settled. This was a day she had been looking forward to for quite some time. For a long time she had associated it with dread, like some time bomb designed by Lucifer himself. Now that it was here, all she could feel was enthralled.

All of her life the Dark Lord has made sure she never forgot her life was his, now it was time to sign it in blood. She watched the sky as it changed from dark blues, to shades of orange and blood red, the joyous day finally upon them. Leaves crushing beneath her bare feet as she walked over the ground. Her jacket slipped down her narrow shoulders, revealing the lace bodice of her white dress. The wind whispered against her skin, like Lucifer’s breath enveloping her.

Most mornings she managed to make through sober, though Lucia never went without a cigarette or several. Tucked behind the stoop leading to the Academy was a tin can filled with her cigarette butts. It made her feel incredibly mundane, sneaking a morning smoke. Almost human, even. But it was beautiful, those moments before reality set in. The sound of rustling caught her attention, the bushes along the academy walls moving.

Lucia leaned forward with curiosity, brow furrowed. With a leap and a yap, Pascal emerged from the bush. A smile graced Lucia’s lips as the fox circled her legs, his maw wet from his recent kill. Lucia bent over to scoop her familiar up, careful not to get blood on her baptismal dress. Pascal whined, nuzzling Lucia for affection smearing red along the length of her neck. Throwing aside her half-smoked cigarette, Lucia pulled in the familiar closer heading back into the Academy with him in her arms.

The Academy had begun to awaken, Lucia could hear the sound of people preparing for the day. Until the night there wasn’t much else she could do, except wait. Lucia tried, every morning she tried putting off that first drink for as long as possible. Not that she cared what others thought, just that it was harder to walk that line between drunk and passed out wasted when she started earlier in the day. Here there was constantly liquor available, hell they were even encouraged to partake in libations. To lower their inhibitions. Not that Lucia ever had a problem with that.

She hovered over the bar, Pascal scurrying from her arms and out of sight. Likely to return to the forest, too wild to stay inside. Lucia could relate. Her hand rested over the bottle neck, eyes closed. There was something calming in the ritual, maybe if she prolonged it long enough that’s all she’d need. After all, all Lucia ever wanted was a distraction. When Lucia went to open the bottle, she held it close in her embrace as she reached for a glass. Pouring herself the first glass, Lucia twisted her wrist as she muttered an incantation – the fireplace coming alit.

Lucia circled around to sit in front of the fire, bringing the bottle with. The den wasn’t prone to much foot traffic, so she had some time to herself before people began poking around. It was much too early and she was much too sober to do any socializing just yet. She swirled the burgundy elixir in her glass, inhaling it’s bouquet. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Lucia wasted no time in the pretense of self-control. She finished the first glass and poured herself another, then another until the bottle was gone.

It would take a lot more than that to get her drunk. Lucia threw the empty bottle into the fireplace, watching the flames flare as the glass shattered. She wiped at her wine stained lips, smearing a deep berry shade across them to disguise her indulgence. She couldn’t spend the whole day getting drunk in a dark corner, how ever much she might like to. Slipping into a bathroom unseen, Lucia locked the door behind her.

What a sight. Dried blood stained her neck from Pascal’s affections. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them from lack of sleep and habitual drug and alcohol use. She splashed water on her skin, washing the blood away. She touched up underneath her eyes, trying to make herself seem less tired. Reaching into her jacket pocket she withdrew her cigarettes, shaking out a little baggie wrapped in foil. Just a bump, for now....

Most of the witches and warlocks were pacing the halls, preparing for the baptism. Lucia just followed the smell of cigarettes, unsurprised when she found Tamsin at the end of it's trail. Bones sat on the couch behind her, posed in anticipation for an answer. Lucia raised her arms, her lips split into a smile.

“Oh, is this where we’re smoking?” Lucia asked, collapsing onto the couch beside Bones. She lit a cigarette, looking at Bones and Tamsin with mild intrigue. When she spoke her accent was thick. She had never bothered to try to lose it. Why would anyone ever want to sound less French? She gestured between the two of them with her lit cigarette, giving them a playful wink. "Don't mind me, mon chéris. Please, carry on with what I'm sure was r i v e t i n g conversation.”