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Desdemona Proctor

the empress

0 · 344 views · located in The Academy of Unseen Arts

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

Description

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xD E S D E M O N Ax P R O C T O R
xxxxxxxxβ€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’






"on your lips I read the monologue of goddesses,"
- yvan goll




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n i c k n a m e s x // x nicknames aren't something she actively enjoys, but she is not actively opposed to them, and her name is something of a mouthful, thus Des is common among friends

a g e x // xtwenty three

g e n d e r x // x(cis)woman

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

o r i g i n x // xNew York City, New York, USA

r o l e x // xwitch




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D E C O R U S

h e i g h t x // x5'9"

w e i g h t x // x *

h a i r x // xblack

e y e s x // xgreen

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





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N O T A
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ€’ x f a m i l i a r x β€’ x \ f Ι™ - ˈ m i l - y Ι™ r \ x β€’


c o r v u s x // xDes' beloved familiar takes the form of a raven, one rather large for its species, though not so massive as to prompt major concern in the humans whom catch a glimpse of it. Corvus is much like his owner, judgemental and steely, but with a fierce sense of loyalty, and he is never too far away from his master


F O R T I T U D O
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ€’ x s t r e n g t h x β€’ x \ ˈ s t r e Ε‹ ( k ) t h \ x β€’


c o n j u r a t i o nx // xan exceptionally talented witch, she excels in practically all of her subjects- however, it is in conjuration that she is unmatched, having an especially pronounced skill for that she takes great pride in, much like her brother does with his necromancy.

p e r s o n a b l ex // xas vindictive and materialistic as she may be, Des is far from an ice queen. She is charismatic and charming when she wants to be, which tends to be the case even on occasions when she isn't driven to control and persuade.

l e a d e r s h i px // xfew can argue that, if anyone was fit to be the heir of the High Priest, it is Desdemona. At least when accounting for the ability to lead and inspire. She is confident enough to not be shaken, and collected enough to make rational and practical decisions even in times of stress. She is an excellent communicator and, for all her darker qualities, she has a strong integrity, and knack for mediation

i n c i s i v ex // xeven in moments of heatedness, Des always seems able to keep a cool head. She is rational when it comes to decision-making, sometimes to the point of coldness, and perceptive to the point of unnerving people with her astuteness


I N F I R M I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ€’ x w e a k n e s s x β€’ x \ ˈ w Δ“ k - n Ι™ s \ x β€’


a r r o g a n c ex // x desdemona is more than just an extremely capable witch, she is also the daughter and heir of the High Priest- these two traits have bled into arrogance and pride, and she now often engages in egotism, which can lead to her overestimating herself, and, coupled with her independence, seldom asking for help when she could do with it

p r i d ex // x as previously mentioned, Desdemona's status has influenced her pride, namely in making it extremely valuable to her- she is most dangerous when her pride is threatened, and she will defend it with brutality if need be

s e l f - i n d u l g e n c ex // xDes does as Des wants, even when what Des wants falls into categories of pleasure and idleness.


M E T U M
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ€’ x f e a r x β€’ x \ ˈ f i r \ x β€’


d i s g r a c ex // x with a father such as her own, and with pride of equal repute, the thought of falling from her pedestal terrifies her more than perhaps anything else

h e r f a t h e rx // x with parents, fear should not be a prerequisite of respect, but such is the case with the children of Asmodeus Proctor. She respects her father, and his position, but there is a part of her that fears disobeying him, or, more importantly, getting caught doing so

r e p l a c e m e n tx // x with the rumours about her father's bastard children, there is a small shred of fear in Desdemona that she may one day be replaced; that her father will find a new favourite and leave her in the dust. She knows that it's irrational, and would never display such a concern, but there are always going to be moments of insecurity





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P E R S O N A L I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ€’ x confident x β€’ x cunning x β€’ x incisive x β€’ x narcissistic x β€’


Des is indubitably her father's daughter, equipped with a similarly powerful presence, further levied by confidence and charisma. She The long-lasting effects of the spotlight have left the girl with a confidence that seems to exude from her, and a resting 'smize' that is always prepared for any sneaking cameras. She has a natural charm and charisma to her that tends to attract people to her, even when they discover that her personality is sometimes a touch less likeable than her image gives credit.

for one thing, her confidence can sometimes be intimidating in its constance, and it also has a tendency to lean towards cockiness. She is seemingly fearless, quick to smirk in the face of attempted intimidation, never bowing her head or sacrificing her pride; not even when such a sacrifice would make everyone better off. Her ego is perhaps due to a combination of growing up with skill and status, and it shows in her behaviour. Sometimes, her pride is valuable enough that it takes priority over a good many things, and she is stubborn when it comes to relinquishing anything that may wind up harming her dignity. Fortunately, she seldom is put in such a position, because of her fearsome astuteness that has her seemingly prepared for anything, and anyone.

she also reflects her father in ambition and knack for leadership. She excels in guiding and leading, especially when she is cool-headed enough to keep her arrogance at bay. Although blunt at times, she isn't exactly cold, and on the contrary, is quite the social butterfly when she so chooses. She can be rather affable, with her charisma once again coming to play when it comes to her ability to build relationships. For someone still finding her own self, she is surprisingly anchoring with her advice- it hinting at a wisdom she herself isn't sure that she possesses. Her sharp wit sometimes comes in use too, in warming people with humour and jokes, although it is far more often used to fire quick and clever retorts. When it isn't just woes that she is attending to, however, but the wrongdoings of others unto those she cares about, she'll turn to her darker, more vindictive ways. Seeking revenge is not unfamiliar to her, and she turns quite frightening when seeking such retribution. She is one that neither forgives nor forgets, and she makes no illusion of such a thing. It is foolish to assume that bygones will be bygones with her, especially if what you have harmed is either her pride or those for whom she holds affection.

there are moments when her darker side shimmers across her surfaces- a break in the calm, a flicker of brutality that doesn't often linger, but when it does, is nothing short of terrifying. It's one of the few sides of herself that she doesn't take pride in, and her vindictiveness drives it without restraint. As previously mentioned, she has no hesitance in her retaliation, nor mercy when carrying out whatever punishments she has deigned necessary. Her bloodlust is something she restrains for the most part, but there will always be at least a moment where she sees red, and in those events, she can quickly turn from charming demoiselle to wrath personified.

fortunately, there are few who have had to see her this way, and the few that fell victim to her rage are no longer around to reveal the truth of her past spoliations.




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H I S T O R I A R U M


for the most part, Desdemona has has little to complain about in her life. As one of Asmodeus Proctor's only two legitimate children, she was raised with privileges and luxuries that most witches can barely dream of. She was emblazoned with the respect of other's before she was old enough to even recognise what admiration was, and such constant entitlement allowed an especially vigorous sense of pride within her.

Her mother's coldness was remedied by her mother, Lethe, who offered love and warmth to both her and her brother, preventing them from growing barren from a lack of affection. However, such warmth vanished when Desdemona was thirteen, when her mother was chosen as Queen during the annual Feast of Feasts ritual. Asmodeus remained his usual professional self throughout the selection process, even as Lethe's paper burned white. Even when the days counted down, and Lethe was torn apart and feasted upon, Asmodeus Proctor remained a symbol of unholy piety.

Des never saw her father the same way after that, nor did she completely recognise herself. Watching the death of her mother, she remembers the splashes of blood, and the sharp taste of a stray droplet that caught on her lips. She had easily resolved to refuse to eat her mother- even in the last moments, she anticipated a miraculous change of mind from the Dark Lord, or a last minute rescue by her father. She'd expected something, but what she didn't expect the night to end with her knowing what her mother's blood tasted like.

Since then, Desdemona's outer appearance seemed to have grown and moved on. Seemingly loyal to the Dark Lord, and a prodigy in her classes. She has grown into a young witch worthy of her father's pride. He grants her more attention now, and more respect, and occasionally Des will hope that it's guilt driving him. That he feels remorse for his passivity in Lethe's death, and that he is repenting through love for his daughter.

But deep down Des knows better. Her father never waned in his loyalties to the Dark Lord, and she is just another gift to be given- a handmade gift he is especially proud of having crafted, but a gift nonetheless.

And perhaps she has yet to make her peace with it, but one could never tell otherwise. She has and must remain calm and collected. After all, she has a reputation to protect.






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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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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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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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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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B O D H IxK R I S H N A N
"I'm probably going to wind up burning this place to the ground one day, and I know she'll be right by my side when I do."


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Bodhi is easily Desdemona's closest friend- a pairing that sometimes seems odd, when considering the vast differences in how either woman tends to communicate with the world. In many cases, Des acts as the fire to Bodhi's ice, and the two click together comfortably in a way that seldom makes much sense to the outward eye. Together with Neona, they are something of a power trio at the high school, often with Bodhi and Neona sitting back and entertaining Des' penchant for spotlight. Above anything, Desdemona respects Bodhi, and that respect extends to Bo's coldness- she has longsince learned not to take the witch's iciness to heart, and now even finds it endearing.


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B O N E SxB U R R O U G H S
"Envy is a lousy feeling. Not that I would know."


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As fellow coven leader brats, it's inevitable that Des and her brother would have to interact with Bones at some point- their parents encouraged friendliness even as they shared backhanded compliments and comparison competitions over red wine and chess games. She's only been to his home one, however, and even then, she barely caught sight of the boy. He had been sickly and bedridden- something that provided her father with plenty of ammunition for his 'harmless' verbal spars with Bones' father. Des may be arrogant, but she did feel a twinge of sympathy. However, it quickly subsided in every following interaction, as it became clear that Bones' resentment would prevent them from ever really bonding.


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C O N S T A N C ExL A M O T T E
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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M I C H A E LxN A V A R R O
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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W I N N I F R E DxB L A N C H A R D
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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C A S P E RxR E I D
"With a family reputation like that to uphold, you'd think he'd be a little more careful. I don't get it."


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She doesn't really like Casper, but she is wont to shooting little barbs his way every now and then. He's fun to tease, although sometimes her words have more bite than they should, and for reasons she would never admit to. Frustrating as it is for her, there is a part of her that is envious of Casper. Casper, who comes from such a renowned and prestigious family and yet seems to have no fear for damaging his reputation, nor fear for repercussions. There are moments when she wishes she could be quite so bold, and that her father's wrath wasn't quite so terrifying.



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J O S E P H I N ExJ A I Y E N
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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V A L E R I A NxG O U L D I N G
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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I S A A CxC O U R T N E Y
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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I V YxB I S H O P
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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R O M A NxB L A C K
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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T A M S I NxR E I D
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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h e x c o d e x // x #a2a7b8x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x Vittoria Ceretti x // x c r e a t o r x // x rubytuesday x // x c s x // x mjolnir

So begins...

Desdemona Proctor'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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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: 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.

β€œIt'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.

β€œStill 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.

β€œRight, 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.

β€œI 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.

β€œMy 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 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.

β€œBut 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.

β€œUgh, 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.

β€œDon’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. β€œI’d kill a thousand pets, and then some, so long as I get to do it with you.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Neona Ki Character Portrait: Desdemona Proctor Character Portrait: Emrys Proctor
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Pale hands fluttered over her shoulders, smoothing her sleeves and adjusting her collar. Desdemona's eye was furtive, glancing over every detail of Neona's attire. She felt oddly invested, but it was unlikely due to a platonic dedication. More likely it was yet another example of self-devotion; Neona had to look perfect, because Neona lingered about her, and those in her circle were mirrors to reflect her own brightness.

With a smile, she rubbed away a final mar on the surface, and raised her eyes to meet Neo's gaze. "Better. Now you're ready."

Neona's responding smile was warm plastic, soft but false, although she didn't know exactly who the fakeness was for. Desdemona? The girl with a privilege Neona had never known, one of Neona's many tools, a ladder in human form? Or was it for someone else? The one she was to be signing her name, her soul over to? The Dark Lord was ambiguous, and, for a witch who had for years devoted her life to calculation, that was terrifying. She did not want a master, nor did she intend to adopt one. But what was this relationship she was about to form? This promise she was about to make? A necessary step, but would she regret it regardless. Was this Dark Lord a ladder, or an anchor? She made a point to know everything- cyphers were unwelcome.

"Emrys. A moment."

It was not a request, Emrys could tell. His father was not known for requests, only commands. More importantly, his tone was firm like iron, and so too was his grip, still caught around his arm. Emrys looked to Desdemona, her own expression tinged by the uncharacteristic concern that only ever seemed to appear when her brother was involved. But then her face turned apologetic, and she forced a smile.

"I'll see you inside, brother."

A wry smile danced across his lips- his sister was bold enough to stand against the Dark Lord should he test her- but their father was, and always had been another story. He and the High Priest watched her and Neo hurry into the church before the elder man led his son to a quiet corner away from the wandering witches.

"I've been hearing whisperings."

Whisperings. Rumours. Tall tales. Even without clarity, Emrys was preparing convincing words of dismissal.

"Whisperings that you have been engaging in certain magic."

"I'm a witch, father. That's what we do."

Asmodeus was not amused, and his tone was icy as he offered a firm ultimatum.

"I'll say this only once, Emrys. If I find any reason to believe that you are engaging in necromancy because of that dead mortal, the consequences will be... severe."

Emrys' soul was shaking, from anger, frustration, fear. It shuddered with a rage he had grown up learning to temper, to varying degrees of success. It burned especially hot in this moment, but any onlooker would have never known, so still was his face, so calm his facade. He offered a convincingly lackadaisical smile.

" You told me to forget him, and yet here you are bringing him up, today of all days. 'Whisperings'? hah. Any fool can start a rumour, father."

A long silence, his father's expression changing only slightly. Potentially convinced, potentially not. Emrys held his smile, his heart shivering as he bit back his anger. Then his father nodded.

"That had best be the case."

The High Priest offered no further words to him, turning on his heel and striding towards the church. Emrys watched his retreating back, his smile slipping, exposing the glower beneath. Emrys waited for the space between them to bloom considerably before following his father into the Church. Finding his sister almost immediately (he always could find her quickly), he took a seat beside her.

"Did you tell father about my necromancy?"

His first words were hushed, hyperaware of listening ears, but her reply was less so, touched by indignance and offense.

"Did I tell-? You know I would never betray you like that."

She crossed her arms, regaining her usual snobbish composure.

"And even if I would, why would I? I’m hardly invested in your pathetic Orpheus bullshit."

There was a pause between them, and, in the spaces of quiet, her demeanour briefly turned sincere.

"But snitches get stitches, right? We can find who told him."

We. There it was. From the beginning until the end, they were []we.[/i] For the first time in what felt like a long time, Emrys smiled a genuine smile.