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Isaac Courtney

The Conqueror of Death

0 · 290 views · located in The Academy of Unseen Arts

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

Description

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n i c k n a m e s x // x courtney to most, johannes to few

a g e x // xsix hundred and two

g e n d e r x // xmale

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

o r i g i n x // xsalzburg, austria 1417

r o l e x // xwarlock






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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 // x187lbs

h a i r x // xa rich brown than can appear black in dark lighting

e y e s x // xthe same colour as his hair, a dark brown that can appear cold and dark

o d d i t i e s x // xrarely displayed due to his preference from long sleeves, both his arms have obvious track marks. On his right pec is a particularly gaudy tattoo, where the name 'Kelsie' sits inside a love heart. He also has a thick silver scar across the back of his left hand. All signs of the life his body lived before he came into possession of it.

a p p e a r a n c e x // xIsaac knows how to dress well. He's lived through the Victorian era as a dandy, and spent the 1920's in impeccably tailored suits. Though he's been more than happy to accept casual t-shirts and jeans into his attire, he will always have an appreciation for quality clothes and a fine fit.

He came into possession of his current body in a horrid state, greasy uncut hair and poor hygiene. Since he's done his best to tame its hair, and find a flattering fit of trousers. However he can't remove the hints of the former life creeping in, from the track marks to shaky hands. And no matter the body he possesses, it's his eyes that will always give him away, there's nothing quite like staring into those dark, soulless eyes.






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


n o s t r a d a m u s x // x a small bat, and a terrible excuse for a familiar. Standoffish and independent, he seems to have no ties to Isaac and can go missing for years at time. Isaac last saw him 72 years ago.


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


c a r d s x // x never without his deck of playing cards, Isaac likes cards games, but when it comes to magic he can tell fortunes by reading the cards. He was taught this old fashioned form of magic by an 110 year old witch from southern Austria.

i n s i g h t f u l x // x he has a lot of years experience to work with, and almost anything that is happening you can be sure he has a similar experience to draw upon. Appearing to look no older than 27, he has a 'wise beyond his years' vibe about him. Though considering how old her actually is, he really ought to be wiser.

c a l m x // x he has lived through famine, wars and plagues, a witness to humanity to ripping itself apart and putting itself back together, time and time again. He knows no matter what happens, he will live through it and that is all that matters to him. Which makes him a cool rational head in a crisis. He's not prone to anxiety or hysterics



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


f o r g e t f u l x // x when one has six hundred and two years worth of memories to keep, some tend to get a little lost and muddled. He was there when JFK was assassinated but he honestly can't remember much of it, and he spent most of the 1730's at sea but he'd be lucky to remember a single port he visited. Though that may be because he spent most of those years drunk.

c l o s e d x // x by necessity of his keeping his secret, but also by choice, Isaac is closed off. He's not a big fan of mindless chatter, and is unlikely to share much about himself. To most he seems like an enigma that just turned up one day.

s e l f i s h x // x everyone else dies, and it's hard to summon much care for the people around you when their lifespan seems to last the mere blink of an eye. Isaac will keep living on, and that's what is most important to him.



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


d e a t h x // x the longer he runs from it, the scarier it seems. The only thing he hasn't experienced and it terrifies him, what if next time his soul fails to find a host?

l u c i f e r x // x Isaac has never met the big man in all hos 402 years of life. He's had opportunity over those years, but he's avoided Lucifer with good reason. He isn't naive enough to think his tampering with life death has gone unnoticed by Lucifer, and Isaac doesn't care to find out what he thinks about it.

g h o s t s x // x Despite being a regular practitioner of necromancy, Isaac has a desperate fear of ghosts. He's spent a lot of years raking up sins, and he's sure there a whole lot of pissed off ghosts out there wanting his blood, and one day they might figure out to make him stay dead.





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P E R S O N A L I T A T E
xxxxxxxxxxxxx quiet xx distant xx weary xx dark x


Isaac believes that these days, everyone talks far too much. He finds the ever present chit chatter about nothing at all a waste of breath. People's attempts to clog the air with the sound of their own voice come across as vain and annoying. Isaac himself prefers silence, he likes to watch others rather than engage himself. For one part he has a innate curiosity in the people around him. And for the other part, whilst he has many, many opinions he's formulated on others, mostly unpleasant, he prefers to keep his thoughts to himself.

This means that when Isaac does choose to speak, you can be sure it means something. He won't say words just for the sake of it, he's wasted more lives than most people get saying useless things.

In Isaac's 402 years of life, he's learnt on inescapable truth - everyone dies in the end. Which means he finds other people are rarely worth him investing in, especially when their lives are tragically short compared to his own. He's old enough now to know what he likes in a person, and he won't bother with anyone who possesses any potential annoyances. That would be a waste of his time and limited patience. This makes him a rather distant, closed-off person. A fact that's only amplified by the fact that Isaac hates talking about himself. He's already spent centuries talking about himself and he's utterly bored by his own life story. Plus, Isaac doesn't possess the attachment to identity that others do. He's been so many people, existed is so many bodies, male and female, that he doesn't posses a strong sense of self.

Isaac detachment from the world results in him coming across rather cruel. His sardonic sense of humor makes him seem cruel and dark. Especially when things like death are easy for him to joke about, since it is something he is invulnerable from

Over all his years of life, he's also grown weary of the world and the ongoing lives of humans and he's entirely bored by the repetitive cycle of life. He's already seen everything he wants to see, and he doesn't belief that life has any new experiences left for him. Everything mundane is so boring, like reading the same book, over and over for 602 years. But no matter how strong his state of ennui grows, he can't seem to give up living. Life has become a drug for him, he's not chasing life, but running from death.






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H I S T O R I A R U M


Isaac was born during the early 1400's in Austria, under the name Johannes Pichler. His parents were nobody peasants who never made much of themselves during their short lives. Both were witches, though there was only one coven in Austria, in Vienne, so they only visited the coven once on a pilgrimage for Isaac's dark baptism at 13, the early age was common place at the that time where access to covens was so limited.

Isaac was just 15 when the sweating sickness invaded Salzburg, taking both his parents swiftly. His poor little sister, Gersvinda, only 9 years of age was not so lucky at her battle with the sickness lasted weeks and weeks. Isaac became desperate to save her, and turned to one of Salzburg's apothecaries, a fellow warlock. The apothecary was overworked however and allowed Isaac to peruse his shelves and shelves of grimoires to find a spell to save his sister. It was in this mess of dusty grimoires in more languages than Isaac knew, that he found the thin hungarian book in a maroon cover, halál érintése.

He was too late to save his sister who died of the sweating sickness, but the hungarian book he had kept with him, wrote that it wasn't too late. Isaac kept his sister's body for weeks until the rotting set in, whilst he studied the book from cover to cover. This was the book that taught Isaac how to transfer souls from one body to another. And he first used to the forbidden necromancy practice to transfer bring his sister's soul back from the dead, transporting it into the body of a nine year old girl who had died of frostbite days earlier and was yet to receive a burial.

Fearing persecution, Isaac and his sister in her new body fled Salzburg. For the next hundred years, the two of them would change bodies many times, to avoid detection and stay youthful and healthy. However in 1750, whilst Isaac was absent, his sister was trampled by a horse, dying instantly and by the time he returned she had been buried in an unmarked grave - her soul already having passed into Lucifer's hands.

Since then he has lived alone, changing bodies, and attending many academies and joining many unknowing covens. He has since burnt his copy of the hungarian necromancy grimoire, halál érintése, as well as seeking out the other three copies in the world and burning them also. Meaning that the soul transference spell is one that exists only in Isaac's mind and no matter how many have propositioned him over the centuries, it's a spell he will never share with another soul.






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T A M S I N x R E I D
"My companion in everlasting life."


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Their friendship can be prickly, and it certainly has it's problems, like their contrasting views on eternal life. Though their particular friendship has spanned over 150 years and as such they've developed a strong sense of familiarity. He met her as the burly Scotsman, Hamish Abernathy, and was there when the whole curse thing went down. And since she has this annoying tendency to keep on living, he's deemed her worthy of emotional investment, and as such, he's told her all his secrets and truths.


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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."


▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
xdislike xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx like

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





h e x c o d e x // x # * * * * * * x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x * * * x // x c r e a t o r x // x * * * x // x c s x // x Scar.-

So begins...

Isaac Courtney'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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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tamsin reid
cursed witchx|xoutfitx|x#000000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





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roman black
the lecherx|xoutfitx|x#AC945A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Bodhi Krishnan Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Rian Goulding

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bones burroughs
the kid | outfit | #167f40


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

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

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

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

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

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





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bohdi krishnan
the savage | outfit | #2d0704


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

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

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

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





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isaac courtney
the undying | outfit | #934016


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

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

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

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

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

Characters Present

Character Portrait: 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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#, as written by barnes
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J O S I E x J A I Y E N

the fury xx outfit xx #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 xx outfit xx #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 xx outfit xx #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: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Dorian Fawkes Character Portrait: Constance Lamotte Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Roman Black Character Portrait: Lucia DuBois Character Portrait: Taylor Montgomery Character Portrait: John Ito Character Portrait: Dahlia Bedacholli

0.00 INK

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

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With the door open, Dorian's eyes widened slightly at the sight of John before him. His gaze temporarily fell to the blood that dripped from the male's hand. But he didn't comment on it and quickly shifted to look somewhere else and act as though he didn't see it. "Let me shower and get dressed and I'll join you. I'm guessing you need a drink just as much as I do."

Dorian nodded his head and side stepped so John could walk past him. "Understatement," he replied quietly as he closed to the door after his roommate entered their room. He took his time making his way back over to his bed and gently took Pearl from his shoulder and placed her on his pillow. His hands gently hiked his pants slightly, before lowering himself onto the mattress. It didn't take a genius to notice the conflict in John. The man clutched to his rosary like his life depended on it, although it was his soul that was truly at stake.

Neither one of them seemed to be in the best of standings for the day's proceedings. One of them worshipped God, the total and complete opposite of Lucifer in everything. The yin to Satan's yang. While Dorian was living a false life. He had no idea what would happen to either one of them once they signed their names. A heretic and a fraud. John was giving up everything he believed in while Dorian was signing his name a second time. Would hell rip open and swallow them both whole? He raised his right hand to tug at the collar of his sweater, finding it significantly more difficult to breathe.

Then the bathroom door open and out came John dressed in head to toe white, although far more formal than Dorian. "Let's get out of here," he said as he opened the door.

Dorian pushed off his bed, moving to his feet. He stroked Pearl's head with his index finger before scooping her up and placing her back on his shoulder. As he past John in the doorway, he gave the male a reassuring pat on the back. There weren't many words exchanged, or any as they exited the dormitory and made their way toward the coven's Gray Room, the local gentleman's club for warlocks. Neither one of them wasted much time making their way inside and to the bar. No one was working, no doubt getting ready for the Baptism and celebration to follow. So Dorian took it upon himself to walk around the counter and search the bottles for the strongest liquor he could find.

Halfway through his search, he found absinthe and figured that would more than suffice. Dorian grabbed two shot glasses and filled them to the brim. He held the small glass between his index finger and thumb as he raised it. He parted his lips to say something encouraging maybe? But no words escaped. Instead he simply clinked his shot glass to John's, then downed the contents without hesitation. He slammed the empty glass down on the bar and gripped the edge of the counter in his hands. The alcohol was supposed to help but he could feel his hands fighting to tremble against his grasp.

He spared a glance around the gentleman's club, making sure they were in fact alone. Dorian inhaled sharply as he poured another shot for himself. His hand trembled just enough to make some absinthe miss the glass and hit the counter. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath as he set down the bottle. He tried to calm himself with deep breaths, then quickly downed the alcohol once against with a cough.

Dorian had long accepted the fact that there was going to be a special place in hell for him. He was a liar, a fraud... a murderer. He cleared his throat, looking down at the counter as he tapped fingers upon it. "Are you sure you can go through with this?" While he himself was royally fucked no matter what he did, John still had a choice. Dorian's finger tapped upon the bar faster before he lightly smacked the surface with his hands. "I can cover for you," he offered in a hushed tone, looking his friend in the eyes. He might beyond saving, but... If John wanted out, maybe he could help him. Before Lucifer smites him from existence when he signs his name a second time.




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tamsin reid
cursed witchx|xoutfitx|x#000000

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It seemed as though her presence was a magnet that day. Surprising. More often than not Tamsin was her own special breed of deterrent but it seemed that she must have mixed up her honey and vinegar that morning. Taylor, dressed nearly as dark as herself, found her way into some semblance of the group, sitting herself down in a chair that was close but not too close. She made a priority of getting out a book or tome of some sort before addressing the small handful of them that lounged around. "Morning, folks."

Before she could part her lips and make some half assed comment about how it was actually evening or who knows whatever else, Constance strutted down the corridor toward them. Tam knew full well that caramel skinned she wolf was seeking out her clingy French counter part. It wasn't like she hated either Constance or Lucia, arguments could be made that she was friends with one of them but that didn't change the fact that the toxic relationship between the two churned her stomach.

“Now, Tamsin. There are plenty of orgies and whatnot all around the academy now, you just haven’t been asked to join.”

“As oppose to you, who has been explicitly asked not to join,” Bones spoke up without even sparing the queen a sideways glance.

Tamsin pursed her lips slightly at the comment. She chuckled, running the tip of her tongue along her teeth as she shook her head. "Lucky for you, Princess. You wouldn't be able to handle me."

Constance ignored her comment to no surprise and turned her attention temporarily to Lucia. “This why you were occupied? You’re talkin’ to the town elder, letting her fill your head with heretic ideals of our Dark Lord and talks of nihilism. How nice.”

"Someone has to corrupt the youth," Tamsin replied plainly as she ran her index finger along Chesare's back.

Although her head was downcast, she slowly looked up over the frames of her sunglasses catching Constance gain a mischievous smirk as she eyed her up and down. Tamsin quirked a brow curiously, just a fraction so only the witch opposite her would notice. “You look exceptionally jaded and morbid this morning.”

Tamsin reached up, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. "Black has always been my color." Simple words uttered with a very subtly suggestive undertone. To most it'd appear to be a simple comment about to choice in attire, but Constance would be able to pick up the hidden innuendos in her words. All the while, Tam's thumb and index fingers playfully toyed with the zipper on her shirt. "And it's always a sad day when people willingly sign their souls over to the world's biggest twat."

She leaned her head against the wall, trying not to audibly groan as Lucia leapt to her feet and to Constance's side. Tam rolled her eyes as she looked over at bones and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. The following quips between Connie and Taylor, or whatever clingy shit Lucia did quickly lost her attention. Eventually the pair left to finish getting ready for their baptisms or whatever else. She couldn't care less to be honest.

“Too late to lodge a petition against her joining our coven? I’m sure I could get a million signatures with a little effort.” Tam chuckled as he moved to his feet. “I’ll catch you at the Baptism, I’m going to find Josie.” She gave bones a salute with her right hand before he left her sitting there with the ever talkative Taylor... And a talk, dark and very handsome gentleman that joined the chaos some point around the topic of orgies.

“What’s Connie’s deal?” the handsome stranger asked once they were alone... Or relatively while Taylor's nose was back in her book.

Tamsin adjusted how she sat slightly, crossing one ankle over another. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly as she tried to think up a substantial response. "No fucking clue," she chuckled. Her index finger tapped on her thigh for a moment before she spoke up once again. "You're new here." Tam said it like a fact, not a question. She's been at that damned academy long enough to know everyone's names and a new face when she saw one. "So, what's your name and how do you know about Constance?" Her brow quirked as she posed the question, curious to hear his response.





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"Hello, Di bell'aspetto," Dahlia all but purred from behind him as Roman stood in the open doorway. "Apologies for scaring your date, but would you be kind to zip me?"

Roman slowly turned around and found himself greeted by her slender bare back. Dahlia slowly swept her hair out of the way. He didn't say anything, instead closing the distance between them in silence. His fingertips softly brushed her bare skin as he took ahold of the zipper and slowly tugged it upwards. All the while his breath was warm, tickling the side of her exposed neck. Once he finished, he gently took her hair and pulled it back over her shoulder so it could cascade down her back. But before he stepped back, he couldn't help himself and placed a gentle lingering kiss upon the cusp of her shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Dahlia asked as she adjusted the sleeves of her dress.

Roman was quiet for a moment as she turned to face him and even smoothed a wrinkle in his shirt, causing him to smirk slightly. "As I'll ever be."

"It looks like she wanted to leave early, Roman. Come, I go with you." She held out an arm to him in offering which Roman didn't hesitate to take. He led her out of the room and closed the door behind them.

"You look absolutely ravishing, bella donna." He took her hand and gently raised it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. Unlike the other witches and warlocks who wasted their time socializing and scurrying about the dorms, they made their way to the desecrated church for the evenings proceedings.

The walk was peaceful and they went, relatively, unbothered aside from some glances from the younger students they passed on the green. It came as no surprise that upon entering the church, Roman and Dahlia were some of the first to arrive other than some of the teachers and the high priest. Father Proctor was the first to approach them. Although the man's smile seemed friendly, Rome could see through it to the hidden animosity he felt towards him due to his mothers favoritism. "Roman Black, punctual as always." His handshake was firm, borderline threatening before he released Rome's hand.

The High Priest greeted Dahlia with a chivalrous kiss to the hand and then motioned to the rest of the church. "We will beginning at sundown. Until then, feel free to mingle. Although Ms. Bedacholli will not be able to accompany you during the ceremony."

Once Father Proctor left them to their own devices, Roman's mother was quick to approach the pair giving a friendly smile to Dahlia before embracing her son. "Roman, my love. You look so handsome. I cannot believe the day has finally come." She took Roman's face in her hands then proceeded to place a kiss on either of his cheeks. She gave him one more hug before looking back over toward his company. "Dahlia, darling, you look beautiful."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Josie Jaiyen Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Rian Goulding

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#, as written by barnes
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J O S I E x J A I Y E N

the fury xx outfit xx #f0c0c0

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Some time had passed before anything happened. While Josie read, students moved in and out of the dining room, chattering to themselves, though she drew no attention to herself; and for their part nobody called her name, leaving her to her blessed alone time.

That is, until someone dropped into the seat next to her, their legs nudging hers as they stretched out under the table. "How's Josie, where's the pussycats? Almost time for that pesky baptism thing."

She looked up, already pushing down the burst of annoyance that flared to life. It stopped dead in her throat, disappearing just as quickly when she saw who her newfound companion was. "Bones, good morning," she greeted, slipping a bookmark between the book's pages and carefully flipping it closed. "Have you had breakfast?"

The answer to her question came in the form of a pastry being stolen from her plate. Bellamy chirped once, his estimation of a laugh, before joining Bones in his thievery. Josie glanced from boy to stoat, exasperated.

"You’re not nervous are you? Little hint, make sure you’ve got your baptismal name sorted beforehand," Bones advised, to which Josie responded with a haughty sniff, although she was only joking.

"Of course, do I look like the type to start glancing around in a panic and land on the first name that pops into my mind? You're lucky you looked up into the sky and not down to see a bug," she teased, reaching over to poke Bones's cheek with one well-manicured fingernail. "And that pesky baptism is only the single initiation ceremony we have into the Dark Lord's community."

She took another blueberry danish from the plate, the last piece that hadn't yet been claimed by anyone, biting delicately down. The sugary pastry exploded in her mouth, and she took the momentary distraction to consider that maybe she didn't need to sign her name away to be accepted for who she was—a capable, clever witch.

Another moment, and she banished the thought quickly. Of course she had to do it. It was everything she'd been preparing for, and she had to do it. Everyone had their moments of doubt before their Baptism, and that was fine. As long as she went through with the ritual, everything would be fine. The Dark Lord had all but promised it.

"And how has your morning been so far?" Josie turned her attention upon Bones, taking in his all-black visage, the way he usually was. A raven among the doves. "Have any productive plans for the day?"




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Isaac's awkward introduction was not lost on Rian, although he didn't quite bother making any particular note of it. After all, he wasn't likely to win the "Academy's Best Conversationalist" award any time soon, so Isaac could keep his awkward coughs.

"They still got that Spanish bar where they sacrificed that witch?"

The question caught Rian off guard. He wasn't in the habit of going down to bars, much less knowing their history, but then again it seemed like a question that had been asked in the spirit of seeming friendly; not a real enquiry. Maybe he should attempt to be friendly back. He searched for an appropriate answer.

"I suppose so," the best response he could come up with, delivered in the usual low tone. The answer seemed to satisfy Isaac, who offered him a nod, sweeping out of the room again. "Enjoy offering yourself to the Dark Lord."

Rian stared after Isaac's retreating back, and then at the wood grain of the door as it slammed shut behind his roommate. "...Thank you," he finally said, although no one was around to hear it now.

He took some time longer to make himself presentable, and then, like Isaac before him, swept out of the room without a second glance (although he closed the door much more gently), ducking around the corner and down to the main school building like a shadow in search of some breakfast.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Josie Jaiyen Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Taylor Montgomery

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Bones sighed and guided away Josie’s finger that was pointed at his cheek. He sniffed and leaned his head back. “I don’t know. Winston Worm Burroughs had nice ring to it.” It was supposed to be joke, but he instantly regretted it, he loathed the name Winston, which only worsened when he remembered that he shared it with his father. Hence his determination to go by his childhood nickname. Derived from the insulting taunt, bag of bones.

Bones looked down at the crumbs he'd left strewn across the table underneath him. He pressed his thumb to them and brought them to his mouth. "And that pesky baptism is only the single initiation ceremony we have into the Dark Lord's community."

Bones held up his index finger and leaned in as if he were passing on some great secret. “Pesky and overrated.” Of course, he neglected to mention that he had been as white as a ghost when it'd been his turn to write his name. His lack of bravery, had pissed him off, which resulted in the biggest fight to date that he’d ever had with his father. It wasn’t soon after Bones packed his bag for New York.

Josie went back to finishing her pastry and Bones was able to lean back and look her over. In terms of hiding their emotions, he was a novice and she was an expert. Even as close as they were, Bones often struggled to gauge her, her frowns and jaw clenches were always gone before he could even confirm their existence. He looked away, he wasn't some soft-hearted kid that was going to ask for an emotional update. Josie turned back to him. "And how has your morning been so far? Have any productive plans for the day?"

Bones rolled his eyes but before he could answer his phone started vibrating in his pocket, he knew who it was without even checking. He held it between two fingers and showed it to Josie. “The old man’s in town, he’s been filling up my missed calls all morning.” The buzzing stopped and Bones tossed his phone onto the table in front of him. “So I’ve avoiding the dickweed scheduled in for most the afternoon. But he’s an early to bed type, so I figure I’ve got the night free.” He smirked at Josie as if it were one big joke, she knew all the reasons he didn’t want to see his father. However apathetic joker was far preferable to wounded boy.

He glanced up to find the dining room newly empty. “Speaking of avoidance, you’ve got a very important date missy.” He pulled his lanky frame up and out of his seat then stretched his elbows out wide. With a grin he held out a mockingly gallant hand to help her up. “It’s not every day a girl gets to wear white and speak some old fashioned words in front of a crowd.”


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Tamsin responded first, naturally, and which a chuckle to boot. "No fucking clue. You're new here." She watched him for a moment she took her position of all-knower very seriously, however she hadn’t asked a question so he felt no compulsion to answer, to contradict her statement. "So, what's your name and how do you know about Constance?" He gazed over at Tamsin, and considered his answer. How best to reveal as little as possible. He wanted to keep his cards close to his chest about his history with Constance, or her relations. He also wasn’t quite ready to let Tamsin in on his new body update.

He was cut off from answering the question for a moment when the other girl spoke up. "How could he not know her? She's a complete twat to put things nicely. If she doesn't hate you, there's something wrong. Not like I'm any better honestly though." She was sitting close to Tamsin but Isaac hadn’t even noticed her, though he rarely paid attention to things he didn’t care about. However, not many people were allowed the to hang with Tamsin, she was prickly at the best of times. He gazed over the girl, typical all black attire in check, it looked like something straight out of Tamsin’s cupboard.

Isaac shrugged throwing around hate seemed part of the witch gig, since the beginning of time. “There’s a reason that witch sounds eerily similar to bitch.”

It wasn’t long till he was looking back at Tamsin. “Isaac Courtney.” He was certain she’d still want an answer for her question, so he eased himself into a seat opposite them. He wasn’t much a floor sitter “I once knew a relation of her’s.” He held Tamsin’s gaze as he kept his response as vague as possible. He felt no need to fill in any blanks, if anyone wanted to know more about his business they could ask, and he could elect not to answer. He raised a shoulder in a casual gesture that was far too purposeful. “I merely wished to know if she shared the same disposition.” A murderous one, or a traitorous one.

He flicked his gaze over to the other girl with a smirk as he spoke to her instead of Tamsin. “I’m hardly new, though that’s a matter of semantics.” He himself was not new to the Academy, but his current body was certainly new to the academic establishment. Last time he’d been here, he’d stayed seven months and had been going by the name Raphael. Before he'd taken off with a seductive witch and a one way ticket to Puerto Rico, neither had gone well, which Tamsin had warned. He continued speaking to other girl, giving her wink, “Tamsin likes to thinks she knows everything about everyone.” Isaac was never concerned about pissing off Tamsin, he was one of the few with enough time on his hands to out wait her bad moods. Plus if he ever overstepped the mark, he had the luxury of being able to leave the Academy.

Figuring he’d given Tamsin enough hints he rose to his feet and gestured to the door. “Now it’s time to, in the words of Tamsin, watch witches make the worst decision of their lives.” Living the way he did, off the grid and out of Lucifer’s notice, meant that he lacked the luxury of outright criticising Lucifer. Though he didn’t disagree with Tamsin’s sentiments.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Bones Burroughs Character Portrait: Josie Jaiyen Character Portrait: Casper Reid Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney

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#, as written by barnes
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J O S I E x J A I Y E N

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An odd buzzing filled the brief silence between Josie and Bones; the sound caught her off guard, but the boy just fished his phone out, holding it in front of him like it was something dead and decomposing. "The old man’s in town, he’s been filling up my missed calls all morning." Presumably he meant his father, whom Josie had never met but had her distaste all the same, after all he'd done to his son.

"Hmm. I'll be with my parents, but if you need an excuse to keep you busy let me know," she offered, shrugging a single shoulder. She was lucky enough to get along with her family—goodness knows enough students suffered from overbearing or otherwise shitty parents—but she knew enough evasion tactics from her own time spent ducking around uncomfortable questions. Bones was close enough to let himself be vulnerable with her, and she was determined to help if she could.

Of course, as it usually was with either of them, their moment of openness did not last long. Bones's eyes darted around the dining room, and Josie saw his usual veneer slide into place. "Speaking of avoidance, you've got a very important date missy." He stood, holding a hand out to her.

Josie took it, smiling wryly. "With the Dark Lord himself? Why, Mr Burroughs, that would be such an honour." Bellamy leapt onto her free hand, scrambling up the length of her arm to drape himself around her neck, suddenly shy. She laughed and squirmed at the sensation of his fur brushing along her skin, almost tipping over, but then managed to regain her balance, still gripping Bones's hand tightly. "Well. If you're ready to head off." Josie squared her shoulders, shooting him a conspiratorial smile. {b]"Shall we go outside?"[/b]

Hand in hand they headed out of the dining room, ducking through a side door out of the building. It was a beautiful day out, the sun beating merrily down as students and family wandered the grounds. Josie found herself moving towards the front of the school, searching for the car that was bound to pull in at any moment. "I hope you won't be too uncomfortable around my parents. I won't say anything if you conveniently disappear,"
she murmured to Bones, though her attention was focused elsewhere.

Then a grey car pulled into the driveway, and he was completely lost to her. Pulling away from his side, Josie hurried towards the car, waving and calling. Her parents stepped out, her father a stout man in a pressed suit, her mother tall and willowy, both of them exuding a great presence. They embraced their daughter, Josie exchanging a few words in Thai with her father before he reminded her quietly that they should speak in English, given that she was at school and not in the privacy of her own home.

"You'll want to see the church, of course, and perhaps Bones will come along with us," Josie began, suddenly remembering the friend she had left waiting for her. She turned, searching for him. Had he decided to leave after all?




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An agonising twenty minutes passed before Casper managed to get Ophelia and his parents settled inside the church. At least they seemed to find the Academy impressive—Ophelia barely had anything negative to say. On the contrary, she seemed to be glad that Casper, at least, had made it this far (to say nothing of his wayward and less competent cousins).

All the same, once the adults were seated in the church, Casper mumbled a vague excuse about needing to see to something else first. "But darling, I thought you'd be happy to see us," his mother sighed, clearly reluctant to let him go.

"I know, Mom, it's just a small emergency. We could always hang out after the ceremony," he suggested, backing away from their pew. "Save me a seat!" And he turned and bolted out of the church, leaving his mother to listen to Ophelia start up again: "Eloise, you know I love the boy, but he's just too tardy, always rushing around..."

Where hadn't Casper looked? Maybe Tamsin had hidden herself in one of the common areas of the dormitories, rather than in the school building itself. Cursing to himself, he jogged back to the dorm buildings, trying to remember where the common areas were. He didn't frequent them often, preferring instead to hang out in the school building or in his own room.

Finally he caught sight of a familiar shock of dark hair and the lingering smell of smoke, and ducked hurriedly through the door, crashing into someone else standing by the door at the last moment—he hadn't been able to see the other guy from his angle. Casper caught the other person just in time to stop him from falling over, stepping away hurriedly. "My bad, didn't see you there," he gasped, out of breath.

But Tamsin. Casper turned to her, hands held out as if he could keep her from going to the desecrated church. "Grandma Ophelia's here," he announced in place of a greeting. "I mean, I'm going to keep her company... but you had better figure out how to stay out of her way. She's in the church right now." Tamsin was probably going to be at the signing, everyone was expected to attend, but the last thing Casper wanted was for her and the Reids to cause a scene.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Dorian Fawkes Character Portrait: Constance Lamotte Character Portrait: Casper Reid Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Taylor Montgomery Character Portrait: John Ito

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#, as written by mjolnir
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John sighed in a reluctant, almost giving up fashion. "I'll sign the Book," he said giving in. "I haven't come up with a Baptismal name yet, though. Maybe it will come to me when I get there."

Dorian's fingers lightly tapped the bottle of absinthe. "It's not quite as big of a deal as they make it sound. It's like Catholics with their confirmation names. You choose a name for a single occasion, to then promptly forget it and never use it again." He gave a slight smile with a shrug of his left shoulder. "Mine is Xavier, not that that helps much."

There was a moment of silence before John took the bottle of absinthe and poured himself another glass, offering to do the same for Dorian. He nodded his head in silent acknowledgement to gain a refill before John spoke. "How about you, Dorian? Do you need me to cover for you?"

The question took him by surprise, causing his blood to run cold. He couldn't see his own reflection but imagined he had gone pale. His palms grew clammy as he clutched the shot glass searching for words. Before he could speak, John continued. "What has your nerves rattled? I know we don't typically... share these things, but if we can't escape signing the book, we will still be there to help each other. You can trust me, Dorian. I am the last person to judge anyone here for anything, I think."

Dorian downed the shot as his mind search for an appropriate response. Part of him wished to divulge the truth to someone so then maybe, if for a moment, he'd be able to breathe. But out of everyone at the Academy, he felt like John would be the last person he'd tell the truth to, considering he is a Godly man. He was one of his few friends, and it scared him about what the truth would do to him. "I appreciate it. But... if I told you, you wouldn't look at me the same."

After another long silence, and one final shot, Dorian pushed off the bar and stood slowly. "We might as well get this over with." He gave a slight smile while patting John on the shoulder. He then motioned his head in the general direction of the desecrated church. "Don't make me do this alone. If you tap out, you better warn me so I can disappear too." This time he gave a genuine laugh before turning and heading towards the door.




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"How could he not know her? She's a complete twat to put things nicely. If she doesn't hate you, there's something wrong. Not like I'm any better honestly though."

Tamsin laughed as she pulled out another cigarette and lit it. "Yeah, and I'm a fairy princess."

“There’s a reason that witch sounds eerily similar to bitch.” She snorted back a laugh as she took a drag from her cigarette. Ain't that the truth.

Tamsin kept her gaze fixed on the male as he made his way across from them and began to sit. “Isaac Courtney.”

Tamsin Reid, your local immortal," she said, pointing her thumb toward her chest. "And Taylor Montgomery, soon to be book signer." Tam motioned her index and middle finger that held her smoke towards Taylor, being sure to introduce themselves. At least she was a little bit polite... a little.

“I once knew a relation of her’s," Isaac said returning the conversation to Constance. Wouldn't she be happy to know that the conversation revolves around her even when she wasn't here. But the way that he held her gaze, almost intently made Tamsin furrow her brows slightly. It was like a silent communication. Like he was trying to get her to see something that only she could see. It gave her a strange yet familiar knot in her gut. But she said nothing nor acted on it.

“I merely wished to know if she shared the same disposition.”

"Oh, she is... But finding a nice witch is far harder than finding a bitchy one."

Then, Isaac turned his attention toward Taylor. “I’m hardly new, though that’s a matter of semantics.” The comment made Tamsin purse her lips in thought as her mind tried to connect the pieces. There was no way it could have been him, could it? “Tamsin likes to thinks she knows everything about everyone.”

And then it hit her. It was Raphael, or Johannes, or whatever the hell he continues to go by. It didn't matter. She lost track of how many years it had been since they had last seen one another, but he hadn't lost is taste for testing her nerves. It was one of his favorite past times after all. She squinted her eyes toward him in a mocking fashion. "Well, I'd wager I know more about the people on this island than you. The benefits of a curse that keeps me in one place."

She tried remaining as vague as she could, without seeming more than just Tamsin banter to Taylor or anyone else who might have over heard. But they both spoke on a level that each other understood, that kept others at bay. It worked. And regardless of how many times he tried to get on her nerves, he was the one companion she had going through life with this curse. Her immortal companion through an endless life.

Isaac then moved to his feet and gestured towards the door. “Now it’s time to, in the words of Tamsin, watch witches make the worst decision of their lives.”

Tamsin collected her things and shoved them into her purse, preparing to head toward the desecrated church. She carefully unraveled Chesare from around her leg and draped him across her shoulders, then stood up. Just as she made her way toward Isaac, Casper came bursting through the door like the flash. In such a rush, he ran into the back of Isaac and gave him a rushed apology. He tried to catch his breath before looking towards Tamsin, holding out his hands as if trying to block her from exiting the room.

"Grandma Ophelia's here." Tamsin quirked a brow, her curiosity peaked. She was tempted to smirk but didn't. It was well known that everyone in the Reid family, other than Casper hated her guts and looked at her as a stain on the Reid family name. Her niece Ophelia was no different. Perhaps the worst of them all. "I mean, I'm going to keep her company... but you had better figure out how to stay out of her way. She's in the church right now."

"I have to go or Father Proctor will have my head." She sighed softly. Tamsin would love to cause a scene and ruffle their feathers. But on the other hand she knew how much Casper tried to keep that at bay. "I'll try to disappear in the crowd and hide with my new friend Isaac."

After reassuring Casper a couple more times, she hurried him out the door so he didn't keep their family waiting. "Sorry about my cousin. He means well... the rest of my family, not so much." Tamsin then hooked her arm with Isaac's making sure he was pulled close to her so she could speak quiet enough for only him to hear. "You have shitty timing, you know that?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tamsin Reid Character Portrait: Isaac Courtney Character Portrait: Taylor Montgomery

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The Unorthodox // Attire // Hex: #4abab4

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Taylor sat there silently as she studied the newcomer. Giving nothing more than a small chuckle and grin at Tamsin's retort. "Yeah, and I'm a fairy princess." she always did have a means of making even the slightest remark somehow oddly amusing. Even if Tamsin wasn't trying to be.

"There’s a reason that witch sounds eerily similar to bitch.” Taylor heard him rattle off, which she couldn't help but stifle a small chuckle. "Could say that again." the young witch said under her breath, never once taking her eyes fully off of the man. Finding something off about his presence. As if that was truly saying something considering who else was in the room. Not that Tamsin was the worst type of company she could ask for, in comparison to a few others.

Isaac Courtney.” the male introduced himself finally as he took a seat.

Taylor was going to introduce herself when Tamsin spoke up, "Tamsin Reid, your local immortal," introducing herself, and then pointed to Taylor as she continued to speak, "And Taylor Montgomery, soon to be book signer." Taylor gave a small shrug in response as she was introduced, "Not sure, honestly. Do I really want to sign my soul to the biggest asshole to ever exist?" her voice was oddly serious for a moment, almost deadpan. But a smirk scrawled across her face, "Could still be worse things in life, I suppose." Taylor gave another short shrug.

Taylor began to drift into her own thoughts after they exchanged a few more words, mainly saying how she didn't entirely remember seeing him before. And that he must have been new. "“I’m hardly new, though that’s a matter of semantics." a small, shit-eating grin formed on her face as she gave him a curt nod of her head, "I'll be sure to remember that for later." turning her head away from him, she found herself rolling her eyes all too hard. This guy was already beginning to get on her nerves in record time.

Tamsin likes to thinks she knows everything about everyone.” Taylor barely acknowledged what he had said, finding his presence to be more of an annoyance now than anything. And frankly, she didn't really want to be there anymore. Blocking out whatever else Tamsin and Isaac seemed to discuss.

Now it’s time to, in the words of Tamsin, watch witches make the worst decision of their lives.” Taylor blinked back to reality as she was lost in her thoughts. Almost having asked what he was talking about, but remembered what he was referring to. Giving him one last coy smile before he walked out the door.

Taylor merely sighed, rubbing her face slightly before she got to her feet. Time to sell her soul to the god damn fucking devil. Something she never thought she would actually do at any point in her life. To think, not that long ago she was singing in a god damn bar for a few extra bucks, and now she was in a school for witches and warlocks. And above it all, she was about to sign her name in a book for only the worst type of person to ever exist. "Well, time to go make the worst fucking choice I will ever make, I guess. If I don't burst into flames first." Taylor said audibly enough as she walked past Tamsin, not paying her and the man she was talking to any mind.

The walk to the Desicrated Church was a rather long and boring one, finding herself in her own thoughts. Maybe she should just turn back now and forget all of this. What's the worst that leaving could cause? Taylor was already far over her head in all of this, way more than she realized. Feeling the nerves and anxiety bubble within her stomach. Everyone else had family or some sense of familiarity with them for this ceremony. Taylor, she had no one.

This feeling of anxiousness and possibly even fear and unease only became more so when she entered the building. Some familiar faces were amongst the crowd, some she was closer to some, if one could even consider it that, and others she had never seen a day in her life. She felt so out of place and small. This wasn't her element. Everyone else here knew what they were doing, knew what they wanted, meanwhile, she hadn't the faintest clue. What if when she got up there to sign, she froze? Taylor would be the only one to chicken out of this whole thing, all because she was far over her head in this endeavor.

But yet, she found herself taking one footstep at a time closer and closer to the front end of the Church. Finding a few empty seats off to the side, Taylor sat down. A sense of unease and dread overcame her as she realized what she was really about to do. Give up her soul for the sake of power? While yes, it was sounding rather pleasant, and desirable by so many here, this wasn't exactly what she wanted. But she had no choice in this. She had to. So she sat there, in silence. Cursing to herself under her breath.