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Vincent DuBois

0 · 334 views · located in Pangaea

a character in “Pangaea”, as played by leisurelyatwar

Description

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name.xx vincent dubois
alias. xx v
age. xx appears 34
pronouns. xx he/his
sexuality.xx top

species. xx human
practice. xx warlock
school. xx shadow magic

role. xx local shop owner
home. xx nightgrove
other. xx bodega in midgrasp


hex. xx #2A2A57
faceclaim. xx tom hardy



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charismatic || generous || observant || mindful || loyal || prudent || patient

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ImageVincent first and foremost is a people person. Not in the sense of someone who needs to be around people, or even likes most people. He is however someone who can create a quick connection with anyone. Heā€™s incredibly genuine, making it easy to take his words at face value. He can be a little rough around the edges, a little bit too crass - but thereā€™s never anything more to it. When youā€™re a straight shooter the conversations just hit a level of depth that transcends time.
Most of his interactions with people arenā€™t longer than half an hour. There are some regulars who might come in multiple times a day and hang around, but itā€™s not like heā€™s hanging out with any of them in his off hours. Even so, heā€™s a permanent fixture in a lot of peopleā€™s lives. Sure they can go to a hardware shop for a hex tool or a grocery store for eggs - but most people didnā€™t mind paying the bit of mark up for the convenience of proximity. He relies on his regulars, always looked out for them because thatā€™s how you get by in this world - together. For a lot of them he kept tabs they just paid when they remembered. Only a couple people ever took advantage of it, and the loss was never worth letting it damage the trust he had with his other regulars.




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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxImagepractice. warlock
school. shadow magic
familiar. permanent blue pittie pup named blue

Whatever deal Vincent made, it was so long ago he barely remembers it anymore. A part of him knows his debt will never be paid, that he chose this immortal tether. Ultimately he serves his patron, his instrument in this realm. He chooses not to practice openly, only using magic in dire situations or when compelled to do so.
Through shadow magic, he is able to use dark forces to influence and manipulate the material realm. While he has some destructive spells in his arsenal, Vincent prefers subtler methods of influence and manipulation. Through gentle telepathy, suggestive thoughts and influence he can gently guide people toward his needs. Though demonic connections aren't unusual in Pangaea, there is a stigma around it so he does not openly share with others his abilities.



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Many years ago, Vincent made a pact. He didnā€™t know at the time what he was agreeing to, but he always knew the cost would be steep. So much of his past is a blur. There are flashes, certain phrases that stick out - but he knows better than to try to pierce that veil. What he was allowed to remember was bad enough, he didnā€™t want to know what was locked away. As much as he tried to ignore it his dreams had a way of forcing him to confront his hidden memories.

When he thinks about it, he thinks heā€™s been alive much longer than it would appear. Like he had lived many lives over. The innate knowledge that only seemed to surface when he needed it. People joke that heā€™s a walking Elvens Almanac, always equipped with a bit of relevant information regardless of the topic.

Truly, heā€™s a simple man. He works every day but the second and third Thursday of the month. He practically lives above his shop, only returning home when he needs to do laundry or if the shower in the loft is acting up. His entire life is that shop.

He wakes up, has his cup of coffee and sweeps the sidewalk with Blue. One of his regulars, a gnome named Kyle, is usually in right as the sun hits the curb. He eats his breakfast inside at one of the tables, hollering at Vincent through the propped open door. Vincent would just drink his coffee, smoke his cigarette watching the block as Kyle rambled for thirty minutes straight before he headed off to work.

Vincent liked the fresh air and would stand outside if no one was in the shop, usually with Blue napping on the stoop. He enjoyed his regulars, the locals and the other business owners. Briar coming in to catch up on all the neighborhood gossip Vincent had ascertained or arguing product placement with Zimar.

When one of his regulars approached him about hosting meetings in his backroom for reformed shifters, Vincent agreed without hesitation. He had always been a loud critic of Wolfsbane. Because of the stigma around shifters it made it difficult for them to find a venue to host, so his contribution won him a bit of clout in shifter communities. He has a constant unease that any day the other shoe is going to drop, but in the meantime heā€™s going to enjoy the little things.

So begins...

Vincent DuBois's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vincent DuBois
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outfit x song x hex #2A2A57
.calledby. vincent
.prounouns. he/his
.location. vincents bodega, midgrasp

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It felt like summer that morning, or so he told himself that as he propped his door open. Everyone in the community knew Vincent kept careful care of his shop. The windows were cleaned daily, lined with items ranging from a spiked potted plant to a drying rack for your dishes. The shop front, while poorly organized, was always immaculate. In fact, every morning he could be spotted sweeping even the sidewalk outside his shop, even going so far as to collect the mess into the dustpan to toss into the bin. Today was no different. Setting his broom down just outside his door, he doubled back to that damn coffee machine. The thing was as old as time, a relic in this technologically advanced world. There was a perfectly good cafĆ© right next door, but he didnā€™t bother. Even some of his regulars would joke that he should invest in one of those specialty barista droids that Fey Tech had dropped this year. To Vincent DuBois however, nothing felt better than his morning cup of coffee from that shitty little machine. His enthusiasm for it eventually became contagious, and now his machine was one of the main reasons why his regulars came into his shop.

The small Styrofoam looked like a piece of a childā€™s tea set in his burly hand. Blowing across the coffeeā€™s surface to cool it down as he stepped outside. His eyes darted from left to right, a habit ā€“ he was never one to let his guard down.

He lit a cigarette to enjoy alongside his coffee. It was a morning ritual before he had to play the role of local small business owner for the day. He loved these streets, especially this early in the morning. It was always so quiet. As he walked out onto the corner, a blue pit bull puppy trotted at his heels, curling up at Vincentā€™s feet once he stood still. Drinking his shit-machine coffee as if it was finely pressed espressos, he felt a calm settle within. Today was a big day.

ā€œCome on, Blue.ā€ His voice was gruff, as if it had yet to wake up with the rest of him. The pup looked up with intelligent eyes, seeming to nod before it took its seat just within the door. Vincent set his coffee on the stool and chucked his cigarette butt into the bin. Time to start the day, he sighed, reaching for the broom. By the time he was done, the street had begun to wake up. The street lights went out when the birds began to chirp, he could smell the baked goods from the cafe next door. He grabbed his coffee on his way in, Blue following behind. It would be a slow morning, surely heā€™d have time to read the paper. He was just finishing the sports section when a familiar voice spoke out.

ā€œ'Morning, Vincent.ā€ Kyle was one of his oldest customers, a rock gnome who was a local handyman for many of the apartment buildings in his area. There wasnā€™t a day that went by that he didnā€™t at least see Kyle walking past his shop. He was a decent enough kind of guy. Vincent gave a nod as Kyle went down an aisle, he knew his way around well enough. When he came up to pay, Blue came around to greet Kyle as Vincent rang the gnome up. Vincent gave a smile as he wished Kyle a good day, it was the same one heā€™d use over and over again throughout the day.

It wasnā€™t until mid morning when he heard shifting from above. Blueā€™s ears perked, looking above them then back to Vincent. Vincent stood with his back to the door, clipboard in hand as he counted how many packs of menthol's he had on his back wall, scribbling notes as he went along. The radio was tuned to a local channel, their voices scratchy through the old dwarvInc unit.

Sun is high today, itā€™s like she knew she was going to be the star of todayā€™s show. It seems like the whole city is already partaking in the Solstice festival. This morning I woke up to fireworks going off - fireworks. People are ready to let off some steam, you know.

The other voice continued. ā€œWell as we all know, itā€™s the one of the only internationally celebrated nondenominational event in all of Pangaea, so people go pretty hard.ā€

ā€œThat they do, Linus. Speaking of going hard, hereā€™s the new hit from icon Tkay Maidza.ā€

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vincent DuBois Character Portrait: Elijah Skoll
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#, as written by Ivisbo
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outfit x song x hex 799EAA
.calledby. eli
.prounouns. he/him
.location. vincents bodega, midgrasp

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The damn bell shop was what woke him up. Heā€™d managed to ignore the thing for the first two hours of open- it only rang once every thirty minutes that early in the morning and Eli was a heavy sleeper. Even crunched up on Vincentā€™s old beat up couch, Eli rarely woke up before 10am.

The large vintage-style windows were lazily drawn closed with cheap curtains, filling the small living room with that orange sort of glow that only existed before 8am. He stared into the room and inhaled deeply, the wooden floors bathed in glow and a dusty smell, the humid warmth of the books lining almost every wall striking against the bitter scent of bad coffee from downstairs. Vincent was not a clean man, but everything had its place in this small apartment. Eliā€™s small pile of stuff stood out strikingly against the nestled comfort of the single-room home. Heā€™d grabbed a dark hoodie, a few changes of the same grey shirt, and an extra pair of black jeans on his mad dash to vacate his own apartment. Heā€™d been re-wearing, re-washing, or begrudgingly borrowing the bodega owners' clothes for the majority of the month now and knew it wasnā€™t going to last much longer.

But he was getting clean. He still lacked the heightened senses he was used to and had yet to shift- but he no longer constantly yearned for the government-mandated oblivion of Wolfsbane. Vincent was helping with that, Eli wasnā€™t really sure how. He felt a difference in control when he was in the same room as the other man, like his cardigan-covered disheveled appearance somehow forced Eliā€™s mind out of its haze. He slipped up sometimes, slipped back into that spell that made him want to fall into his listless programming, but Vincent somehow always tugged him back.

He was hungry and that meant scavenging the remnants of last night's dinner or heading downstairs early. It wasnā€™t as if he was going back to sleep either way- his ears were tuned into the bustle of the street outside, hyper-fixated on the slow even sweeps of Vincent's broom. Someone was in the shop bustling around, opening fridge doors and shuffling around on a lame foot. The coffee was gurgling, meaning Vincent had already started another pot.

Blue alerted to him as soon as he walked down the stairs, the small pupā€™s pitter-patter across the linoleum almost enough to shove Eliā€™s early morning pissyness aside. He crouched and greeted the dog fully, stifling a smile at the annoyingly cute and wet kisses.

Vincent looked up at the sound of Blueā€™s excitement, grinning as Eli stooped down to greet him. Blue had always been a fan favorite but heā€™d taken a special liking to Eli early on. Heā€™d always been a good judge of character as far as Vincentā€™s experiences go. Though admittedly there were other reasons Vincent had noticed Eli begin with.

ā€œā€˜Bout time,ā€ Vincent teased. He liked to give Eli a hard time here and there but overall heā€™d been a pretty generous boss. The kid just needed some help that wasnā€™t shoving sedatives down his throat. ā€œCoffeeā€™s fresh, beer vendors get here in an hour. I had to put in an emergency order for Solstice, noticed we were running low on 40ozs.ā€

Eli offered a gruff grunt as a reply, standing up slowly as Blue circled his legs. He eyed the full pot of hot garbage with a look of pure disdain. No matter how much he informed Vincent he was drinking burned rabbit shit, he refused to change up his supplier or get a new machine and continued to offer a cup to Eli every morning. Eli wandered over and grabbed some jerky out of a box, the fake taste of beef and teriyaki better than nothing at the moment.

ā€œI gotta turn you down for that casserole leftover,ā€ He made brief eye contact before looking outwards through the open doorway, ā€œThink the market is still open on the Solstice? You want me to grab us something?ā€

ā€œNah, not worth it.ā€ Vincent scoffed, blowing a bit of air out his lips as he shook his head dismissively. ā€œEveryoneā€™s scrambling over there, by the time you make it back Iā€™ll be closing up the shop.ā€

He walked over to the door, glancing down either end of the street. People were starting to filter out, their body glitter still perfectly placed and drinks in hand. Half of these people leaving their houses now would end up passed out in front of his shop at some point tonight. It was always a shit show at the bodega Solstice night, but for the first time since he bought the place he planned on closing early. Let someoneā€™s late-night craving for a wildberry fauxfizz wait until morning, he had bigger things in mind.

ā€œYou ever been in the city for the Solstice? As in Midgrasp?ā€ Vincent looked back at Eli, leaning against the doorframe behind him.

Eli followed, leaning his shoulder on the other side and peering down the same direction. ā€œNoā€ He answered, yellow eyes following the day drinkers and oblivious bodies down the street. Eli hadnā€™t been around crowds in years, maybe ever. Before his capture the only reason heā€™d be near a crowd is if they were running and now that heā€™s released he avoids humans like the plague.

ā€œI havenā€™t been in the city for Solstice for a long timeā€ his eyes followed some elven girl as she tripped and dumped the majority of her cocktail in the bushes, the following laughter so piercing he pulled his head back inside, ā€œI donā€™t really know what it is. An excuse to drink?ā€

ā€œYou could say that,ā€ Vincent laughed under his breath, he wasnā€™t wrong. Most of them did just use it as an excuse to drink, hard not to when the city made it an inescapable party. ā€œFor magic practitioners itā€™s a pretty powerful day, holds a lot of significance - you know?ā€

Vincent didnā€™t make a habit of letting his powers be known. He learned it was always best to fly under the radar, but he didnā€™t mind helping those he could with it in the meantime. Admittedly he wasnā€™t sure how Eli hadnā€™t caught on yet, though he supposed the lingering effects of withdrawal didnā€™t make him too on the ball.

ā€œIf you know where to go, thereā€™s actually some cool little spots that do something special for Solstice. Theyā€™re a little more low key so they donā€™t get as crowded as the rest of the city.ā€ Vincent looked over at Eli with a raise of his eyebrows. He knew the werewolf was still wary about crowds, but Vincent had a way about him that made others at ease regardless of circumstance. A natural charisma some would say.

ā€œI assumed you were hunkering down if you were closing earlyā€ Eli fully turned towards Vincent now- the shop owner rarely strayed far from his apartment and work, a steadfast presence on the block. Eli grown used to the routine. Heā€™d also planned to hide upstairs from the all-night party, but if Vincent wanted him to goā€¦ ā€œAre you saying ā€˜something specialā€™ like magic?ā€

Vincent shrugged, rubbing his hands together as he suppressed a smirk. It was true he wasnā€™t really one to go out, especially not when the streets were flooded with dumb asses - but he was ready for something new. Clasping a hand on Eliā€™s shoulder, he gave it a reassuring squeeze the werewolves muscles taut beneath his fingers.

ā€œEli, you are in Midgrasp. Where isnā€™t there magic?ā€