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Emrys Proctor

the necromancer

0 · 250 views · located in The Academy of Unseen Arts

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

Description

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xxxE M R Y Sx P R O C T O R
xxxxxxxxβ€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’ xXx β€’






"somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out "
- virginia woolf




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n i c k n a m e s x // x he got called 'Em' for a little while, but now the nickname gives him painful memories, and there aren't many others that easily spring from his name

a g e x // xtwenty three

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

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 // x6'1"

w e i g h t x // x *

h a i r x // xblack

e y e s x // xblack-brown

o d d i t i e s x // x an assortment of scars litter his body, courtesy of his father in the wake of his big 'mistake'. Other than that, he has a steadily growing ensemble of tattoos, one of which is an enchanted snake which likes the wander about his body






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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€’


l u c i ax // xEmrys' familiar is one he met at the surprisingly young age of nine, and takes the form of an eastern tiger swallowtail. Lucia is a fickle creature, prone to changing her opinions on people very quickly and with little reason, and is almost always nearby Emrys, fluttering about him or resting prettily on his person.


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 h a r mx // x Emrys is a magnetic character, able to win people over with ease when he so wishes- and even without desire, he tends to attract admires excessively

i n t e l l i g e n tx // x he has a sharp sagacity that seems to run in the family, both in the form of book-knowledge and street-smarts. The former is one he prefers to engage in, and he in his downtime, he is often found in quiet corners of the library, be it the school one or his home's one, engaging in whatever material he has yet to become an expert on. Such a thing seldom takes long

n e c r o m a n c yx // x easily Emrys' strongest area in regards to magic, he excels to an alarming degree, proving a prodigy to the point that he has earned the attention of some somewhat concerned elders and councilmen. Necromancy, after all, is one of the more closely monitored magical realms, because of its dangerous potential. That said, for all his skill, Emrys still isn't satisfied, for the one soul he has spent years desperately calling out to has yet to hear him. Or perhaps, he fears, simply refuses to listen.


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€’


p r e s s u r ex // x he acts as though the pressures of his family don't bother him, and that he is fully prepared for all of the responsibilities and expectations that come with being a child of the High Priest- however, there are moments where he feels the weight, and the burden starts to ache.

d i s h o n e s t yx // x Emrys is something of a compulsive liar, prone to untruths and rumour spreading. He struggles with being entirely honest with people- perhaps it's because the last time he was honest in his vulnerabilities, he lost someone he cared deeply for. In turn, it has led to him being someone far less easy to trust, and far more frustrating to empathise with.

h i s f a t h e rx // xboth a fear and a weakness, Emrys' respect for his father also comes with a willingness to do whatever he is told- he's seen what rebellion can do, and deep down, he hates himself for not having protected what was his when his father threatened it- then again, even the arrogant Emrys cowers before the almighty High Priest

a b a n d o n m e n tx // xspecifically, the abandonment of Luca. Beautiful Luca, who, seven years later, still does not answer Emrys' desperate calls into the void- who perhaps has already passed on, or, as Emrys' fears yet refuses to actively consider, holds a grudge that will never be forgiven.


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


h i s f a t h e rx // x equal parts fear and respect, Emrys is proud of his father, and enjoys the power that being the son of the High Priest allows- then again, he is also terrified of angering his father, or of disappointing him in any way.





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P E R S O N A L I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ€’ x selfish x β€’ x reticent x β€’ x duplicitous x β€’ x debonair x β€’


Emrys is something of a cipher at times- he is calculated in every action, always seeming to know exactly what he is doing, and what will come of each and every action he applies himself to. He doesn't wear a mask so much as see through everyone else's, to the point that his presence can be unnerving- he reads people too easily, and leaves people feeling opened and exposed. His gaze alone can be perturbing, so piercing are his eyes, and so unreadable his intentions. He does not hide himself, but he is a muted thing when it comes to some of his emotions. A wry smile, a raised brow, a judgemental lookover... the movements his face make tend to be subtle, but far from blank.

This all said, Emrys is far from socially stunted- he has a natural charisma to him, and a way with words that can easily convince and move. His ability to read people only adds to this, as he always knows exactly what to say to put someone at ease- or the opposite, should he so desire. He talks much like a politician at times, in that he considers his words before he says them, speaking with eloquence and charm and just a hint of posturing. The latter is inescapable, what with the selfishness that precedes him, and leaks into his everyday behaviours. He lacks the arrogance of his sister, far too many insecurities riddle him for that, but his prioritisation of himself is clear in his decisions, and, even in the absence of complete self-assurance, there is a false arrogance there that is as convincing as it is imposing.

A strange combination of introvert and extrovert, Emrys feeds off attention and compliments- he is an excellent host, and can be quite the roguish character, especially when alcohol is involved. At the same time, however, his knack for charming people does not equate to always enjoying them- he also needs moments of quiet solace to function, and it is not rare for him to disappear from functions at times, and hide away, be it with a book or just his own company to put him at ease. He isn't cold, and certainly not cruel, but there is definitely an opportunist element to his character. He does not necessarily enjoy taking advantage of people, but nor is he entirely opposed to it, when the pay-off is tempting enough.

Extremely intelligent, Emrys' mind is always at work. Without such a constant, he'd quickly grow bored. He is a man that needs to be entertained, and his entertainment comes in the form of mental engagement. He enjoys complex people, or people that are difficult to read, just as much as he dislikes them for putting him off kilter. Dashing and debonair, he hides his ruffled feathers well, smoothing the plumage as he simultaneously translates and deciphers- aka, the things he does best.

From his apparent confidence, one would seldom be able to note the insecurity of his character- the fragility upon which his concept of himself rests. He is marred by past mistakes, and they have instilled in him shame and regret- two things that are unforgivable for a child of the High Priest. Reminders of his mistakes lead him towards unhealthy coping mechanisms, such as drugs and sex, whilst also bringing out a cruel and bitter streak. In his most vulnerable moments, he hides his supposed weakness like a wounded animal, all bared teeth and viciousness. He will hurt others in these moments, even when each act of malice is met by immediate regret- he knows that what he is doing is toxic, but he can't seem to stop himself- it's his only way of maintaining dominance, and of continuing on the elaborate pantomime that all his family act out- that he is without weakness, both unstoppable force and immovable object.






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H I S T O R I A R U M


being the son of the High Priest has it's perks, and growing up, Emrys knew better than to waste them. He engaged passionately in the luxury made available to him, enjoying all the material gains, all the special privileges that his father's role offered. Like his sister, he felt something of a drought in regards to his father's affection, and this lack of expressed love only became more clear after his father passed.

"passed." It sounds so soft. Such a peaceful way to leave this plane of existence.

it certainly sounds cleaner than "was cannibalised by her fellow witches."

trauma thoroughly repressed, and aided in any moments of emotional breakdown by his similarly ailing sister, Emrys was as content as one in such a position could be. Even as a youth, he dabbled in drugs and alcohol, using such things as coping mechanisms in his darker moments. But he never went too far- never past the point of no return.

and then he met Abel.

Abel was beautiful. For a mortal. Bewitching. For a mortal. Radiant. For a mortal. He lived with his grandmother, a self-proclaimed occultist who sold incense and crystals and tarots. He was running the shop for his grandmother when Emrys wandered in, driven by a coupling of a sudden downpour and cynical curiosity. Emrys made pretentious jokes about the decidedly unmagical wares as he wandered about the shop, only for Abel to parry his at every word. It was something of a duel, competitive yet infuriating because of Abel's consistent manners that kept Emrys himself from going too far. His smile was permanent, but as they continued talking, the conversation went from warring to warm, and the smile on Abel's face went from one of customer-service-requirement to sincerity. And then Emrys' own lips curved to match.

the next time Emrys visited, he pretended he had lost something in the shop as an excuse. He was thoroughly embarrassed, and this shame only grew when he realised that Abel saw through his masquerade easily. The next time, he claimed his pet had run away, and asked if Abel had seen it. He hadn't. Then after that, the excuses didn't seem necessary anymore. He was there everyday, and then they were meeting in other places; cafes and arcades and theatres. Just like that, Abel had become Emrys' most precious secret.

It was only a matter of time before the High Priest discovered the relationship, and it was even less time before he put an end to it with his signature mercilessness.

Emrys hasn't spoken about exactly what his father did, but its enough to know that the little occult shop is no longer where it once stood, its black, charred remains long-since knocked down and replaced by a chemists. As for Abel and his grandmother... their names stood side by side in the local paper, as people gone to soon, survived by no one, forgotten almost immediately.

By most.

Emrys never forgave his father, but rather than burn bright in retaliation, he turned to ice. He became colder, crueller. Bowing his head under his father's rule- never disobeying, never upsetting the tempest. Abel's death was only one part of his punishment, but even with the scars that still mar him, it remains the most painful.Perhaps that's why he became so obsessed with erasing it. In his sober moments (which, when hit by his darker moods, would become rare in contrast), he began engaging in necromancy. He'd always had a talent, but once the obsession hit, it became clear just how intense his natural skill was. Even when keeping his ability somewhat under wraps, be flew to the top his class, whispering with ghosts and engaging with spirits. But they never were, and have yet to be the one he so desperately reached for. For reasons unknown to him, Abel refuses to reply. But that doesn't mean that he will stop trying.

Being a witch, he does, after all, have an awful amount of time to spare.






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D E S D E M O N A xP R O C T O R
"Des knows me better than anyone."


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Des is his not so sweet twin sister, and, as stereotypes would demand, they've been close ever since their respective births, fifteen minutes apart. Des understands him better than anyone, perhaps because so much of their trauma, their anger at the world, the darker inclinations are shared. He doesn't let anyone in, especially not after Abel, but he never really needed to with Des- she tends to read him quite easily, although she knows where to draw the line. She might be a typical teasing sister, but she shows a shocking degree of compassion towards him, when it counts. He remembers collapsing at home after finding the ruins of Abel's shop. She didn't say anything- she just sat in silence, arm around him as he drowned himself in tears.


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L U C I A xD U B O I S
"She's a good time, can't lie about that."


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Lucia is just like every other coping mechanism Emrys has fallen into a habit of dabbling in- she's a drug, a drink, a... well. On account of her being with him at many of his most vulnerable moments under the influence, she's also become worryingly aware of some facets of his character that he prefers to keep under the hood- and that makes her a threat. Emrys is smart though, and he has yet to find any reason for Lucia to go running her mouth- or perhaps it's her that's smart, knowing what's good for her. As much as he likes to play hot and cold, Emrys can't deny that he enjoys her company; it's just a shame that the context of their relationship is so harshly framed by unresolved grief and unhealthy coping mechanisms.


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N E O N A xK I
"Des loves her, and I can see why."


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for all his debonair charm, there aren't actually that many people that Emrys genuinely likes- he's colder than his socialite status would have people believe, and very picky when it comes to those he considers friends. Neona, however, meets his high standards, and he enjoys the discussion and wit she brings to their exchanges- however, he can't deny that there are rare moments with her when he gets an old feeling, a sense of dread and suspicion that leaves as quickly as it comes.


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B O D H IxK R I S H N A N
"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 N E SxB U R R O U G H S
"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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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
"A brief quote in your character's voice about the other character."


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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#896767x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x oussama guessoumx // x c r e a t o r x // x rubytuesdayx // x c s x // x mjolnir

So begins...

Emrys 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

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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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: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Constance Lamotte Character Portrait: Winifred Blanchard Character Portrait: Josie Jaiyen Character Portrait: Casper Reid Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Emrys Proctor Character Portrait: Roman Black Character Portrait: Rian Goulding

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J O S I E x J A I Y E N

the fury x β€’ x outfit x β€’ x #f0c0c0

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Sleepless nights were not a common occurrence for Josie; this one, though, was one for the books.

She had no reason to be nervous. All she had to do was show up in white and sign her name in the book. She'd even picked out her baptismal name - Saengdao. An unusual name, to be sure, but her father had suggested it in the last letter received from home. It means "starlight", and what better than the glitter of a burning star in the cold night sky? The perfect name for my perfect daughter.

Still Josie's heart could not be calmed. She had slept on and off all night, the glow of her clock piercing through the darkness every few hours when she found herself awake again. At last the hour hand pointed at six, and Josie rolled out of bed, ducking into the bathroom for a quick shower and to change into her dress. It was beautiful - a simple silhouette, but the material was silk-smooth and so light, it almost felt like she was wearing nothing at all. The dress had arrived along with her parents' last letter, folded neatly into a brown paper package. See you soon, was marked on the attached card, which was all her mother had to say. Margaery Waterhouse had always been a woman of few words (and many spells, but that was to be expected).

By seven Josie was sitting at her desk, gently patting cold cream onto her face and neck. She tried to move quietly, so she wouldn't bother Constance, but at that moment Bellamy chose to uncurl himself from where he had been lying on her pillow and take a running leap onto Josie's shoulder. Josie put an arm up to stop him, which resulted in his claws digging into her wrist as his back legs scrabbled for purchase in midair. She tried to grab him around the middle - he squirmed out of her grasp and darted across the table, knocking a glass bottle off the table and leaping into the safety of a bag on the floor, flicking his tail in what was clearly a grumpy manner. The bottle clattered loudly to the floor, the sound echoing around the room in the relative silence.

Now Josie was properly awake. She sighed, stooping to retrieve the bottle - which wasn't broken, thank goodness - and set it back on her desk. Her wrist was fine too, bar a few red marks where her familiar's front paws had been. "Sorry," she whispered apologetically at Constance, reaching into the bag to grab Bellamy. He chirped indignantly at her, a high, clipped sound. Josie set him back on the bed, and touched a fingertip to the top of his head, a gentle admonishment. "You stay right there and don't make a mess."

Her morning routine completed, there was little else left for Josie to do. If she had the option to, she would have gone back to sleep for a couple of hours, maybe make sure she was well-rested for the day ahead, but she was entirely too on edge to go back to sleep. Instead, she packed some items into her purse and left the room, not bothering to say goodbye to Constance. Bellamy hurried out of the door after her just in time, trotting alongside her as she made her way to the dining room.

Few people were out and about, and Josie had the luxury of solitude for once. It was odd to be alone, she mused to herself, fetching a plate of fruit pastries and settling herself at the end of one of the long tables, careful not to crease her dress. Often she surrounded herself with so many people, she didn't quite have time for herself. But now she was alone, with the room to herself, save for Bellamy beside her stealing bites of her pastry when he thought she wasn't looking.

Maybe it would do to take her mind off what awaited her. Josie pulled a book out of her purse, beginning to read as she ate. Soon she wasn't thinking of the baptism at all.




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C A S P E R x R E I D

the honourable x β€’ x outfit x β€’ x #1e6262

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Between Casper and Tamsin's habits, it's pretty safe to say that the average waking time of the Reids at the Academy was not too early. Yet (for what was probably the first time that year), Casper was up by the first ring of his alarm, zipping through his routine of shaving and getting dressed - none too quietly, as was his custom. "Aren't you excited for All Hallow's Eve?" he enthused in Emrys's general direction, not even stopping to see if his roommate was up or not.

Perched on the headboard, Portia cooed affectionately at her master when he reached over to ruffle her feathers. All the same, she scrunched herself down, closing her eyes. Casper could be up early, but she wanted to sleep more, and would no doubt search for him later on when she was well rested. "All right, sleepyhead," Casper laughed, trying to press a kiss to her beak. "See you later." She flapped a wing at him, more annoyed than mad, and went right back to sleep.

First stop on Casper's list was Tamsin's room. More than likely she was still asleep. It wasn't too far from his own room, so Casper zipped over, rapping twice on the door. He allowed barely a second to pass before he tried the knob, which gave way under his hands - he made a mental note to remind Tamsin to keep her door locked - and stuck his head in. Tamsin was, to his surprise, not in; instead he found himself staring at her roommate Winnie... and Roman.

"Oh." Casper stopped short, looking from one to the other, flustered. Everyone knew the two of them regularly had... relations, and for the most part he tried to keep his nose out of their business. At least both of them were clothed, he would hate to be forced to wash his eyes out with bleach afterward. "Sorry," he finally offered, shrugging. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything. Maybe lock your door next time." And leaving them with that suggestion, he withdrew his head and shut the door quickly.

So Tamsin wasn't in her room. Perhaps in the Sanctum? It was highly unlikely she'd turn up to work so early, but then again it was an unusual day. So it was off to the Sanctum this time, Casper running across the school grounds in the direction of the building. Turning a corner, he almost bumped into a teacher - one of the female ones, judging by the sound of surprise she made - but Casper was off in a shot, yelling an apology over his shoulder. Eventually he turned up at the Sanctum, barely even breaking a sweat. Yet even after looking through the shelves, Casper couldn't find Tamsin - the place was completely empty. Once he even chanced to call her name, as loudly as he dared, but there was no answer.

He glanced at the clock, exasperated. He didn't have any more time to spend on looking for his wayward cousin. His parents had already sent notice that they would be arriving extra early that day, just so they could spend time with him before the ritual, and he had to be at the school gates to meet them. And it was almost time.

Reluctantly, Casper left the Sanctum, heading for the school gates. Just as the huge iron structure came into view, a car pulled through the gates, trundling up to the front door. Casper jogged up to the car, his heart swelling at the thought of seeing his parents. "Hey, Mom-"

He stopped short. Both his parents stepped out of the car, but that wasn't all the passengers present. His mother helped a third figure to her feet, and Casper found himself looking down at a diminutive frame, severe grey hair curling around her face. "Grandma Ophelia!" he spluttered, surprised. "I didn't know you'd be coming!"

"Well, I wanted to see how you're doing here. Make sure you're getting a good education," his great-grandmother huffed, grabbing his elbow for support as the car pulled away. "After this, you won't see me until next year when it's your turn, so don't look so dismayed. I'm only here for a day."

But Casper couldn't help his expression, looking up at his parents with wide eyes as he helped Ophelia into the building, her grumbling the whole time. He had to get hold of Tamsin and make sure she was well out of the way.




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R I A N x G O U L D I N G

the void x β€’ x outfit x β€’ x #fcb514

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Rian was up with the first rays of sun peeking over the horizon, moving mechanically through the movements - brush teeth, shave, comb hair, get dressed. Only today was a special day, of course - the occasion had slipped his mind until he opened his closet to find a white suit, pressed and starched in preparation for today. A thought surfaced briefly in his mind: Today I sign away my name. It didn't inspire any particular emotion in him, and it had sunk back into the mire as quickly as it had come.

He settled himself at his desk, glancing at a small mirror propped in a corner to make sure his hair was properly slicked back. It was. The table's surface, for the most part, was empty, except for two letters which lay in front of him. One was postmarked a week ago; it was brief, and vaguely apologetic. Rian skimmed the page, for no real reason other than to look at the looping, confident letters. Dear Valerian... sorry to say we won't... perhaps next year we might make the trip down... all our love.

That was fine with him. He hadn't really expected anything else. At least his mother had the decency to write to him.

The second letter was much older, the creases in the paper worn and familiar. The ink was smudged and faded in some spots, and the handwriting was cramped and uneven, scrawled in a shaking hand. All the same, Rian could read it perfectly; could probably recite it by heart if he tried. Darling Rian, you mustn't miss me too much... Do look after yourself. I hope you will remain cheerful and strong... and for Lucifer's sake don't pick a name like mine when you get baptised. I would die if you had such an awful name as George. Pick something beautiful, please... Love you always, Anna.

Rian felt no surprise when he moved to put the letters away and found his hands shaking. The first one from his parents was swept away into a drawer, lying haphazardly with a number of similar letters. They all read the same after a while. The second one, the one from his sister, was folded and tucked away neatly into his wallet. "I didn't," he told the sheet of folded paper, looking at it a moment longer before he put his wallet away too. "But you'd probably laugh at what I chose anyway."

His wallowing was interrupted by a single, sharp knock at the door, followed immediately by someone coming in. "I hope you weren’t expecting this room to yourself for the rest of the year," was all the warning Rian had, watching silently as a dark-haired man crossed the room to the empty bed and tossed his things onto it. Rian hadn't, not really, but when everyone else's roommates had moved in and he had been left alone for a couple of months he felt it had been reasonable to grow accustomed to the silence and the empty space. At least he'd been respectful and refrained from allowing his things to migrate to the other side, just in case anyone moved in late.

And now someone had. Rian offered no greeting, instead surveying his new roommate. Tall, and dressed in rather rumpled clothes - oh, and now he was taking a drink from a bottle and offering it to Rian. "A drink before the ritual slaughtering begins?"

Why the hell not. Accepting the bottle, Rian tilted his head back and let the alcohol burn its way down his throat, then handed it back. "Thanks," he began, voice a little raspy from the whiskey. He supposed he should at least introduce himself. "I'm Valerian. Rian." His roommate didn't seem to worry too much about privacy, stripping his shirt off before Rian could look away. "You're... late. Travelling?" he continued, eyeing the other's meagre possessions.

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 glutton | outfit | #FD0E53

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the traitor | outfit | #863348

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

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

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.