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Ronan Hargreeves

Number Five

0 · 115 views · located in The City of West Anne

a character in “The Umbrella Academy: On Stranger Tides”, as played by Wolf's Bane109

Description

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Ronan Grey Hargreeves



Ronan's Playlist

nicknames. xxx Blondie, Nix, Grey

alias. xxxxxxx.lx Number 5 | Phoenix

age. xlllllxxxllllxx Twenty-Six

gender. xxxxxllx Non-Binary | They/Them

sexuality. xxllxx Demisexual | Homoromantic

height/weight xxllxx 5' 9"/175cm | 115lbs/52kg

hex. xxxx #800000

hometown. xxxxxxx Sigtuna, Sweden 1993

tattoos. xxxxxxxxxx Ronan has a Plethora of tattoos. All are in black and white. Alongside the anchor tattoo they were given by their father on their left wrist.

oddities xxxxxxxxxx One of the oddest things about Ronan, is their natural platinum blonde hair, with dark brown roots. The other, is the natural divet in their right brow. As for other oddities, they have 8mm gauges that they have in both earlobes, and a single platinum ring in their nose being the only piercings they have on their person.



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persona
Insecure // Naive // Secretive // Caring // Loyal // Reckless // Protective // Selfless // Tempermental //
Growing up and living a life, if one can even call it that, as one of the Hargreeves children had left Ronan with everlasting scars, whether physical or not they were all the same. And some still tend to seep out and make themselves known from time to time. Ronan was forced into an existence of solitude for years, when not training or going on missions, they were put into a capsule so they could be studied for hours on end, or have their brainwaves examined while they slept. Having been seen as 'Too dangerous' from an early age, as things would randomly explode or levitate without them even trying to make them move, they were forced to confinement for the most part.

Ronan didn't know if it was due to the time when the vase exploded and caused their mother to go temporarily blind until Reginald was able to fix her, or when they caused the explosion in the training room that took out theirself out for two weeks before they fully recovered from their wounds. But they were locked away in a plain, white-walled, and padded room for years. If there was nothing for them to move, they had nothing to try and move with their mind, or cause to randomly explode. And due to that, Ronan suffers with a great deal of social anxiety which often leads to social awkwardness and trust issues with strangers and some of their siblings. They never truly knew how to be around people.

They closed themselves off from most people by the tender age of ten. Being locked away in a room with blank walls, bright lights, and as minimal items as they were allowed to have, Ronan grew to appreciate the smallest of things. Whenever Ronan was let out of their room and capsule, they took full advantage of it to learn as much as they could. Feel as many different textures, hear different sounds, and smell and taste different things. Much like some of the others, Ronan was raised to be nothing more than an experiment or at least it's what they were led to believe. And as such most physical contact causes full-body twitches and mild freakouts formed from past trauma of being tied down or restrained and locked away for hours, and even days on end. But as time had gone on, and as they slowly began to control their abilities to the point of at least being able to have a normal bed in their room, no longer having a bare mattress on the ground with only a pillow and blanket. Aside from the poor upbringing and harsh treatment that they all received, when one can truly get to spend enough time with Ronan they get to see what kind of person they really were below the surface.

After being raised to believe that they were nothing more than a weapon and experiment, they have an odd sense of naivety. Speculation is that it's from their lack of education and social interactions that leave them oddly craving human interaction, touch and relationships. While they are very much so an introvert at heart, they crave nothing more than being accepted and not seen as a monster or a weapon as they were raised to believe. Ronan is a very kind and caring individual, with a soft and kind heart with an even softer voice. Upon seeing Ronan with their unique, androgynous appearance and sense of style, one would expect them to be much more loud and crass. But with how they present themselves, and how they really are, are two entirely different beings. With the role that Phoenix feels like they are meant to portray, the cold-hearted and merciless weapon, versus the kind-hearted soul that they are, are in a constant state of conflict to decide who they really are as a person, or weapon used for destruction.

They hold a sense of pride and self-worth, however small it may be and even more so they know where their loyalties lie. Mainly with certain siblings. If you can manage to get them to open up and get to know them, the awkward and fun-loving, innocent soul can be seen from time to time. One that would do anything to protect those they care for, often taking an extra training session, or any form of punishment to keep someone else from experiencing pain if they can control it. They would willingly give the shirt off their back and give up their sleeping spot for the night if it meant someone else could be warm and safe for the night.

Lastly, like most that are like Ronan, especially due to the upbringing they came from, Ronan has a surprisingly bad and easily triggered temper. While their normal, soft-spoken nature may be the constant, they have bouts of anger and tendency of violence and lashing out at some of the smallest things. Whether it's a defense mechanism or not, no one is exactly sure. But it is best advised to not get on their bad side, as in worst-case scenarios a large car or boulder is flown in one's direction, or in simplest cases, one is blown backward by a small burst of kinetic energy. Due to where and how Ronan was raised, how they used to be percieved by the public, they were one of the majorly watched over cases, and as such they have a reputation to keep up, as well as try to break the fact that they aren't anything like the figure they were made to be. At least that is the mold they are trying to break from, and show that they are an individual and cannot be controlled or contained like a toy.

But ever since leaving the mansion when they first turned 19 to follow their passion for music, Ronan took it. Not even caring they had been left behind by their siblings. They all got out, which is what they cared about.

They had been on the road touring with their small band, going from state to state, city to city and then eventually up to the big leagues of touring the world. While being a drummer and back up vocal in a band wasn't what they expected from life, nor did they really want to follow that sort of percieved persona, it was all they had of escaping the Hargreeves home. So, once the rumors started of Ronan hooking up with fans wherever the band went, or sleeping with a different celebrity arose, there wasn't much they could do to fight the accusations. Being a rather notable face in the public eye of an indie pop band that was quickly growing, it was hard to do or say anything that could potentially ruin your career. So, Ronan takes the rumors and goes about them with a brave face, even if they're anything but simple rumors. They have a life of luxury, riches, and popularity, without people seeing them as Phoenix, or a Hargreeves kid. Just someone in a band that got lucky in life. It helped deter them from the reality of their actual hopeless and aimless, and lonely life.

It wasn't until Ronan heard what had happened to their father while they were touring in Britain, that they came home and reconnected with their adopted siblings, however strained and complex their relationship is. Ronan knows and acknowledges how things had changed over time. Their siblings all left, and they were left alone with their father for a year. Which was the worst part of their life, that they refuse to think back on.

All they care about is that they had enough, and were gone. Jusy having just gotten up and left the moment they could, forgetting their job as a hero. All that matters now is that Ronan is back to pay their respects to their passed on bastard of a father who made all their lives hell, and then they'll be back to touring, at least that's Ronan's plans...


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telekenisis



Being one of the few children that don't have a full connection or control over their powers, they were constantly put through rigorous training and put into a capsule to help read their brainwaves and brain activity when asleep. Or simply as punishment for a failure after a mission or training session gone wrong. Lacking the same high connection to their powers as their siblings, and still not yet having been able to tap into their true potential as a Telekenetic due to leaving the moment they could. Ronan was always told that they had such potential, and just had yet to tap into into it they still have a long way to go in terms of discovering just how far they can push themselves. Or how far they can be pushed until they snap and lose control. Maybe even unlock something else that's entirely under the surface...

Biophysical Control: The ability to control living organic tissue, causing muscles to cramp, skin to break, or blood vessels to burst or contract. Essentially, being able to bring on a heart attack or even cause severe brain damage or even death to a victim. This ability is an easy one to use if focused enough, but using it takes up enough energy and focus to cause a headache afterwards. Ronan tends to use this one the least. They don't like being able to kill or harm others to such an extent.

Concussive Blasts: The ability to project psychokinetic energies as powerful blasts directed from the brain that could apparently affect matter with concussive force. Ronan can project this energy from the hands and others parts of the body (such as foot as used in a kick for example), but only as long as they focus enough beforehand. This often leads to headaches and nosebleeds, and even temporary unconciousness if used for large amounts of time and overuse of consecutive blasts. Occasionally rendering them entirely useless.

Ensnare Opponent: The ability to constrict a foe using their own clothing and hair, or even control their gross movements, providing their clothes are durable enough. This one is easy enough for them to use as long as Ronan remains focused and isn't bothered by any outside forces. This is their most preferred method of subduing an enemy. Hargreeves never did like how peaceful Ronan tended to be when in combat.

Levitation/Object Control: An extremely skilled telekinetic is able to fly through the air via telekinesis, and even maintain the objects he or she has telekinetic control over simultaneously while in midair. Meanwhile, Ronan was never able to fully tap into this aspect of their abilties, and as such has a harder time of being able to make objects float, usually ones that are much larger than themselves. But, Ronan is able to project theirself throughout the air over short distances (at least 5ft) and high enough (at least 5ft currently) into the air with enough force and energy. But they can be easily thrown off by any airborne projectiles or energy blasts.

So, as long as an object is smaller than Ronan, or equal to in size, they can move it. But if it's anything heavier or larger than them they are currently not able to forcibly move said object. Having walked away from the academy at such a young age left many of their powers lacking or entirely unusable due to how uncontrollable they can be when upset or not focused enough.

Force Fields: The ability to create protective force shields that could deflect even the most powerful of attacks (even filter bacteria from the air). There does not appear to be any correlation between field strength and the thickness of the psychokinetic fields. While this is a relatively easy ability to use, it takes much energy and concentration which can drain Ronan of energy faster. Often rendering them unconcious if used for more than five minutes at a time. The larger the force field (e.g more than one person) the faster they run out of energy to hold up the shield.

Telekinetically Enhanced Condition: A variation of TK where one focuses primarily on physically augmenting all their biological functions (i.e. strength, speed, durability, etc.) to superhuman levels into order to better complement physical fighting styles. This also works in conjunction with TK Force barriers applied to a skin layer enabling a protective force armor used to manipulate objects that are on the same surface as the user (such as the ground) or to fly by pushing their own body through the air (this usually requires effort though). This is an ability that Ronan has no control over, nor have they been able to ever tap into this ability. Hargreeves always pushed them to be able to enhance their own abilities, but as they stand, Ronan has never been able to sucessfully pull it off, and has only ever hurt themselves in the process. With lasting scars over their torso and arms as proof.

Limited Telekinetic Strength: This is the reason why certain people with telekinesis cannot immobilize opponents with vastly superior physical strength. While Ronan can easily immobilize any normal human with ease, others with immortal powers and abilities are harder for them to control or contain. If the other has a stronger physical threshold than them, Ronan is as useless as any human against them. Their powers come with many side affects whether physical or mental, so they have to contain their mind and think outside of the box in the face of combat. Something that Ronan lacks in comparison to their siblings. Ronan isn't a fighter, and lacks the level of physical combat that the others excel in. Not to say they can't defend themselves, just not as well as their siblings can.


Current Power Levels

Attack xx▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌

Defense xx▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌

Strength xx▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌

Intellect xx▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌

Agility xx▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌

Power xx▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌▌


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So begins...

Ronan Hargreeves's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Uma Hargreeves Character Portrait: Camila Hargreeves Character Portrait: Nathan Hargreeves Character Portrait: Savannah Hargreeves Character Portrait: Sven Hargreeves Character Portrait: Lucien Hargreeves Character Portrait: Ronan Hargreeves Character Portrait: Vya Hargreeves
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November 4, 2019

To my dear students:

If you are receiving this letter that means I’ve passed away due to natural causes. As I’m sure you are aware, I’ve made Pogo the executor of my will as well as the one to arrange the funerary services no later than a week after my death. It is my last wish that you attend my burial.

Attached below is the passcode to the drawbridge.

#19890110

Sir Reginald Hargreeves



You piece of shit.

Even in his posthumous letters, he managed to be an emotionless ghoul. Sven crumpled the letter and threw it across the room...shortly before retracting it into their hands.

They already saw the obituary in the newspaper, the black and white photographs on the Internet accompanied by shallow anecdotes, and the thinkpiece articles regarding his life as an inventor, Olympic athlete, and father to nine superheroes. Everything reeked of opportunism. It was a race to garner clicks with none of the depth. Nobody explored the experience of being an Anchor Academy student nor the ethical violations that came with weaponizing your own children.

Save for Savannah and Lucien (who they didn’t care about), the rest of their siblings left an online footprint. Everyone moved on from the academy in some form. Lucky splashed her lavish life all over Instagram. Nathan joined a rock band. Uma performed fortune readings and made sketches. Similar to Nathan, Ronan joined their own band as well. Vya...Honestly Sven didn't know what he did other than drink and hang out with Lucky's exes. After their father's death however, only Ronan and Vya claimed Reginald as their own. Everyone else either didn’t bother to post about it or did so in subtle ways.

Not that Sven would ever admit to cyberstalking their siblings.

They moved beyond the need for siblings and Anchor Academy clout. They were at peace with their nomadic lifestyle and Shisa kept them company on the days that they missed having a family. Friends were easy to come by and despite Sven's emotional emptiness, warm bodies were even easier. People sought connections regardless of what they were based on even if it meant being ghosted two weeks later.

All that mattered was that they were living their best life.

That begged the question of why they couldn't destroy that damn letter. It had been six days since it ended up in their P.O. box and they tried every method of destruction possible yet they couldn't stop themselves from restoring it each time. Whether it was ripped, burned, marked "return to sender", or ditched at someone's apartment, they reversed their decision. His words rewound in Sven’s head, mocking each failure to keep the letter shredded.

Maybe it’s worth going...for confirmation.

Reginald Hargreeves was an asshole, but he was rarely dishonest. He didn’t need to fake his death to gather everyone.

That was perhaps the reason why Sven booked a ticket to West Anne three hours after arriving home.

---


The trip itself did not present any trouble and strangely, that train ride was the best nap Sven had in a long time. Granted, it wasn’t saying much given their inconsistent sleep schedule but any rest was good rest. Even the long walk (Sven hated driving) didn’t faze them. Despite being gone for nearly a decade nearly everything remained the same. From the sea breeze to the chimes of ice cream carts, West Anne beckoned for its tourists to stay an extra day or week to soak the sunlight if not retire there altogether.

Anchor Academy was the only outlier. Its drawbridge proved imposing as ever and the creaking showed how long it had been since somebody crossed. Had everyone left that long ago? Or did their father decide to bunker down? Not that either options were mutually exclusive.

"You've your brother's grave and disobeyed my orders. Leave!"

Why am I here?

Sven bit their bottom lip. It wasn't too late to renege their decision. They could rewind their trek and draw the bridge back up. They could toss the letter into the ocean and go home. They could do just about anything to avoid traumatizing themself again.

Oh, but they didn't. They continued across the bridge, taking a deep breath as they set foot on the flagstone pavement.

"Good to see you again Mi-Sven. It has been far too long." Pogo emerged from Anchor Academy's center door in his red suit.

"Yeah..." Sven pressed their lips together, holding back a twinge of annoyance.

The person that stood before them was no longer the spry simian that taught them world history or strategy during Reginal's busy days. Pogo's hairs grayed at the ends and the bags under his eyes formed full wrinkles. His face drooped and even his back seemed the slightest bit hunched. Despite all that happened they didn't hate him. They just wished he had done more for them.

"Has anyone else come yet?" Sven asked, jostling their backpack back onto their shoulder.

"Ah, you are the first to arrive actually-" Pogo paused for a second-"but I believe that your mother has prepped tea and cookies if you wish to wait in the living room."

"You didn't need to do any of this you know."

Pogo shook his head.

"I'm fulfilling his last request just like you."

He gestured for Sven to head inside, glancing at the clouds looming in the distance.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sven Hargreeves Character Portrait: Ronan Hargreeves
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Ronan Hargreeves
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Number Five | Outfitx|xhex: #800000
xxxI guess I'm always gonna be the bad child
xxxI guess I'm always gonna be the mad child
xxx'Cause you will never understand my weird mind
xxxAnd to every single person here that doubts me
xxxTellin' me that they could live without me
xxx'Cause they will never understand my weird mind


If Ronan was being honest with themselves, they didn't know why they were here. They didn't know why they came back to the place that brought them nothing but torment and misery for nine-teen years of their life. Why they found themselves stood, along the curb of that old street outside of the gate that stood opposite of the drawbridge that lead to the pathway to the Academy. Ronan silently ruffled through their jacket's pocket as they retrieved a small packet of Cloves. Taking one out of the box, placing it in between their teeth as they retrieved the lighter and set it alight, taking in the mix of chemicals from within the cigarette, holding their breath as they felt it fill their lungs before exhaling. The smoke quickly whaffting away in the sea-breeze. The smell of salt and sand found its way passed their senses, taking another deep breath as they closed their eyes. They could have just left, go back to their rented out apartment in the next town over, have a few drinks before going back to The Netherlands. The only place they've been able to call home in recent years. Being back here, well...It brought nothing but anxiety. Whether it was owing it to theirself, or even their siblings, Ronan wasn't sure. But there was that constant voice in the back of their head that told them to just go. Go to the Academy. At least talk to the others, talk with Pogo, anyone. Just, don't walk away. "Don't be a damn coward!" that damned voice wracked in their brain once more, grimacing slightly. A small shiver found its way going down their spine before Ronan took another hit from the cigarette before tossing it to the ground, licking their lips. The sweet taste of the cigarette danced across their tongue as they focused on it, something familiar. Something to keep them grounded for just a moment. Anything to keep them from focusing on his voice, even with him gone...Being here alone was enough to cause memories flooding back to Ronan. But as they focused on the ocean, the crashing of soft waves, the seagulls overhead. The cars that passed by. It helped them not focus on why they were actually here.

Ronan opened their eyes once more, dark green hazel eyes scanning the foreground before them. Their hands shook for just a moment, before they formed into momentary fists. "C'mon, Ro...Just fucking get it over with. Go in, say hi. Then just leave. You don't owe them anything more..." they muttered under their breath. They were here to ensure that their bastard of a father was truly gone, that was it. Sure, there were some siblings they wanted to see. Hell, one they hadn't seen in over a decade now. Hell, what did Sven even look like now? Ronan changed a lot, so why wouldn't they have? Fuck, Sven was one of the ones they had wanted to see for the longest time, to make things right. Even if there wasn't much they had to apologize. Just...Simply showing they weren't angry with them should have been enough, right? Reaching into their back pocket as they rested against their Speedbike, Ronan took out that damned letter. Why they brought it with them, it was anyone's guess. Their eyes scanned it over once more, a small tinge of bitterness and anger slowly found itself tying their stomach in knots as they read it. A feeling of regret and guilt always found its way in when they were here, all because of him. Ronan simply crumbled it up in their fist, before tossing it into the ocean. Ronan grabbed their helmet, tucking it under the crook of their arm, they made their way across the street and over to the gate. Pausing for just another moment, Ronan took yet again another deep breath. Their hand shook slightly, before they punched in the damn code before it opened, creaking as it did so. It really had been this long, huh? Ronan pushed open the gate and began to slowly make their way across the old path, the ocean air scraping across their skin as they walked up to the old academy.

Ronan looked up slowly at the old building, their tongue glid across their teeth for a moment as they contimplated things. Shaking their head, "Just fucking do it..." they muttered, before they began walking once more. Stepping up onto the old, whethered steps as they walked up to the door. They took a moment, and knocked a couple of times against the old door, shoving their hands into their pockets as they waited patiently. For what felt like forever they waited, and waited. And waited. Until the door finally creaked open for a moment. Ronan instinctively looked through the door, before looking down as what could only be seen in a flash of fur and darkened skin closed the door for just a moment. Before opening it back up again, "Master Ronan?" came an all too familiar voice, however aged it may have been. A small smile spread across their face as Ronan looked down at the simian. He was aged, and slightly hunched over, but it was for certain the same one. The one Ronan knew all too well. "Hello, Pogo. It's been a while." they said with a smile. The aged simian smiled as he opened the door fully, ushering Ronan inside.

Ronan slowly stepped into the entryway of the Academy, their footsteps softly thudding as they entered. "You look well, Ronan." they heard the old monkey speak up once more as the door closed behind the two of them. Ronan turned their head over their shoulder, "Thank you, Pogo...You look...You look good. I'm glad to see you again." they said with a soft smile. Pogo gave them a small nod, brows furrowed slightly. "How is...Everything?" Ronan sighed slightly, looking back around the old foyre. Everything was exactly the same as they left it. Memories slowly came back as they closed their eyes for just a moment. Blinking as they snapped themselves back to reality, "Sorry...uhm...things are...Better, Pogo. Uhm...How is everyone else? Are the others here yet or...?" the old simian gave a curt nod, "That's good to hear, Ronan. Well, you're the second to arrive but uh...I think there is someone you should see first." he said with a kind smile. Ronan tilted their head for a moment, "Where...Where is she?" they asked softly. "In the kitchen, preparing some snacks for everyone's arrival."

Ronan gave him a small nod and smile, "Thank you, Pogo. For...Everything. This and...Well...You know. I'll be back to see you in a little bit...I'm...I'm gonna go say hi real quick." they gave the simian a small nod before parting ways, but not before placing the helmet in one of the empty chairs, before going through the halls and different rooms. Memories and feelings they dug deep down slowly began to resurface. As if a movie was playing out in their head. Flashbacks to Ronan and the others as children, running through the hallways and corridors. Ronan finally found themselves stepping into the small archway that lead into the kitchen. Stopping midway through the arch of the door as they saw a figure of a blonde woman busily pulling out a pan of cookies and placing it onto the table. Ronan took a short, shallow breath before they swallowed the growing lump in their throat, "H...hey mom.." Ronan managed to call out, their voice cracking half way through those two small words. The woman turned around, with a smile on her face, "Oh, Ronan sweetheart!" she chimed as her eyes rested on them. A small smile formed over their face before they found themselves wrapping their arms around the Android in a tight embrace, "I've missed you..." Ronan said softly as they rested their head along the android's shoulder. Grace smiled as she spoke, "Well, you're home now. Just in time for cookies." she said, grabbing one of the plates as she offered some to Ronan, who simply oblidged by taking one. "Oh, and one of your siblings is here. You should probably go say hi, Ronan. I have lots to do before the others arrive." Grace exclaimed as she turned and went back to baking.

"Right...Uhm...I'll see you later, okay?" Ronan turned on their heels, but not before looking at the android one last time, taking a small bite out of the cookie they took from the plethora of them. They'd need to come back for more later. Their foosteps sounded softly as they meandered throughout the rooms, before finally coming to one of the few rooms that made them uneasy. The back foire with the mantle and picture that hung above the fireplace. They hated looking at the portrait that Hargreeves had made. All false pretenses, fake emotions. None of it was genuine. Their thoughts were interrupted as they could feel a presence in the room with them. It was familiar, but faint. One they hadn't felt in a while, which, immediately caused them to recognize it. They took a small, short breath before finally turning to see the figure standing opposite them in the room. Ronan's eyes scanned over the figure, a small smile spread across their face. They looked different but, those eyes and face. Ronan couldn't mistake it for anyone else. "Hey, Sven..." Ronan started, their voice soft and low. They didn't really know what to say. It had been ten years, but, it didn't matter to them. This was one of the few people they genuinely wanted to see again. Even if the conditions were, less than favorable. "You look...You look good. I mean it." a small, genuine smile appeared for a moment, before fading away. "I uh...Trust you've been well." Ronan took another pause as their hands shook, noticing just how fast their heart was beating in their chest. Ronan bit their lip as they looked down for a moment. "God...I don't even know what I'm trying to say..." Ronan muttered, combing their fingers through their hair, "I guess I'm just trying to say...I'm sorry...I just hope you've...Been better off since...Well. I don't need to state the obvious." Ronan nervously fiddled with their fingers, a nervous tick they had picked up when they were a kid. "It's good to see you again....After all this time, Sven. I...I missed you." their tone was genuine, solemn almost. The sound of regret and guilt would have been easy to pick up on by anyone, and Ronan wasn't ashamed of that. They missed most of the others, and Sven especially. They just hoped they could make things not entirely fall apart before this shitshow even started.





Characters Present

Character Portrait: Camila Hargreeves Character Portrait: Sven Hargreeves Character Portrait: Lucien Hargreeves Character Portrait: Ronan Hargreeves Character Portrait: Vya Hargreeves
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songxx outfitxx bedroom xxdialogue hex #CE7B97

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Lucky picked at the hardened scab, enjoying the sensation as she tore it revealing shiny new pink skin. She’d grown fond of scars into her adulthood. For so long it felt like everything was erased like it never happened, Sven turning back the clock to restore them to their former selves. It felt like her body wasn’t ever really wholly hers, just pieces of her. A firm hand gripped her thigh, pulling her closer. She wrapped her arm around them, throwing back her head to arch her back into them; not because she enjoyed it, but because she knew they did.

“What are you thinking about?” They mumbled into her ear, burrowing themselves in her dark tresses.

She smiled softly, pushing aside her hair to see them clearly. The sunlight was still figuring it’s way into their room, not quite at the angle to reach the bed yet. Her fingers ran along their jawline, her touch soothing them back to sleep.

“I’ll tell you about it later, go back to sleep.”

They drifted back into their dreams, Lucky watching for a moment – envious of that peace. Even her sleep was restless, dark circles forever shading beneath her eyes. She slid out from the bed wrapping herself in a silken robe.

Rose was an intoxicating scent, one she always favored. The aroma filled the room as she filled the tub, pouring the rose extract generously where the spout poured into the frothing water. When she closed her eyes it was all she could sense, that heavy floral musk. Her impulse was to retract as she lowered herself into the bath, she could feel her skin reddening from the heat. That’s what the rose extract was for. She bit her bottom lip, plunging herself into the water all at once her gasp twisting into a wince. Her body tensed, holding itself in place as it acclimated.

When she was here it felt like she could forget everything for a moment – in that time as her body felt like it might be on fire battling the elements struggling to adjust so could finally have that moment of peace. Ghosts were always lurking in the corners of her psyche reminding her of what lurked in the shadows. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back and submerging herself holding herself under until she ran out of breath.

“Hey,” Their voice surprised her, a scratchy whisper. She looked over, spitting bubbles in response. “You okay? You’ve been quiet last couple days….”

Lucky nodded slowly, closing her eyes again and sinking further into the water. She waited until she heard the door close behind her latest paramour before opening her eyes again reaching for the battered bound novel that sat on a table beside the tub. Most of the book had water damage, warping the pages so that they wouldn’t lay flat swelling it in size.

She started to flip through the pages, the book opening to where she’d shoved a folded a piece of paper into the spine. Careful to unfold it so that it stayed pressed against the book and hidden should her paramour walk back in unannounced. The note was beginning to tear at the folds from the repeated motion, caught in the cycle of reading it until she felt too sick to look at it anymore, folding it furiously and hiding it away. Out of sight, out of mind – right?

To my dear students,

How could he be so cold and yet so uncharacteristically warm in the same sentence?

A closet full of pretty things with a high price tag. Each piece made her think of someone she wish she was, anyone but herself really. Maybe one day she’d put on the perfect outfit to finally become someone else. Every morning she put together who she wanted to be that day, at least for pretend. She stood there, dripping wet and naked – every thing around her tailor made yet none of it fit her anymore.

“I’ve got to go home,” She hollered from the bedroom, recognizing the sound of someone shifting in the next room followed by footsteps.

“Home?” They asked, coming into the closet. “The States you mean?”

“L.A., just outside the city.” She lied; they didn’t even know her real name. Why start being honest now?

“Did something happen?” They asked, grabbing a towel that had been strewn aside from a previous day of dress up and wrapping around Lucky. A shiver ran down her spine, prompting them to rub her arms quickly to help her warm up.

“No – not really. I guess they’re selling the house and need our help going through the things to see what they can throw out.” She didn’t even know what she was saying until the words left her mouth, the story spinning itself.

“Do you want me to come with?”

“No! – no, trust me that’ll just make it take longer. Plus you’ll end up becoming best friends with my brother which will immediately doom our relationship, so trust me it’s for the best.”

They furrowed their brow in mild suspicion before kissing atop her head gently, her hair dripping across their chest. They pushed her hair back, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in. “Any way I can help?”

She smiled, kissing them deeply before asking sweetly – “Will you take me shopping?”

________________________________________________________________________________


“You look nice.” Whispered the fox, following Lucky from a distance as she trudged through the Shadow Realm.

Lucky pursed her lips, avoiding eye contact forcing herself to remember the details of the door to her room in the Academy. She had been offered a first class flight instead but she didn’t want them hovering over her shoulder as she bought the ticket asking why she was booking a flight to New York City instead of L.A. Besides, she hated connecting flights from international to domestic. Even with first class and TSA pre-check it was still a pain to transfer.

“Too good to talk to me now? You rarely come visit anymore….I’ve grown lonely.”

“Maybe if you didn’t stalk me like prey every time I came in here, I’d be more inclined to keep you company.” Lucky spat, rolling her eyes. The Shadow Fox was always lurking whenever she passed through. She stopped being afraid of it a long time ago. In here she was the one in charge of the world around them.

“Well what’s a fox to do? Not much else here to keep my attention.”

“Maybe whatever you did before I got here?”


“Sleep,” It let out a cold laugh, Lucky twitching with discomfort at it’s pitch. “If only it were that simple. You don’t help much, passing in and out of here without a care in the world.”

“Sounds like a personal problem. Now go away, you’re breaking my focus.” She shooed the fox away, the shadowed creature shrinking in size to dodge her and circle around.

“Excuses, you should be able to do this in your sleep by now.”

“Jesus Christ – forgive me if I’m a little distracted. Will you just shut up please? I’ll be on my merry way and you can go back to sleep.”

“I think we’ve known each other long enough that you know that isn’t what I want.” Its tone sent a chill down her spine, looking at her with still beady eyes.

Lucky snarled,“And that’s why you’ll always be lonely.”

“I just want you to stay where your safe – isn’t that exactly what you wanted for your family?”

Lucien’s face flashed in her mind; he’d been only a voice for so long she wondered if they’d even recognize each other. She shook her head, the fox infecting her thoughts. It was an endless power struggle between them, yet they were somehow the one being who was a constant in her life. Locked away in its cage it didn’t seem so scary, though it was harder to distinguish that when it slipped into her dreams.

The door, she had to remember the door. The trim was covered in polaroid’s, her favorite pictures of her siblings and their mother. She would spend hours looking at the pictures in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep, trying to recreate her memories to feign the idea of a childhood. The door was oversized and took her full strength to move with an ornate brass knob from the original design of the house. The light always gleaned off of the warm browns of the varnish, reflecting the room in it’s surface. She could feel the hardwood beneath her feet, opening her eyes to see the door conjured within the Shadow Realm.

“Looks like that’s my cue, nice catching up.” Lucky flicked off the Shadow Fox one last time, opening the door and stepping through.

The first time she teleported through the Shadow Realm it felt like she was being spat back out into the light. She had been unconscious for over a day afterward, her body exhausted from over-exerting her power. She didn’t travel through the Shadow Realm as often as she could have, when the alternative was private jets and first class it wasn’t a downgrade in any way. If it meant some extra time lapping in luxury, why would she waste her energy on something as taxing as the Shadow Fox.

Though eventually, as always, the time would come where she’d burn some bridge or get herself in some situation that led her to the same place. She’d learned how to manifest portals in and out of the Shadow Realm with relative ease unless the Shadow Fox was especially a nuisance that day. At least stepping through the portals had become less volatile.

She stepped from the shadows into her bedroom, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

There were white linens pulled over the furniture, but the plants were as lush as ever. Lucky smiled, ‘Mom’. Lucky had been to the Academy since she left, though usually just stealing an hour with mom in the kitchen or maybe rifling through her dad’s study for notes regarding his research into her powers (usually a result of a coke-fueled night leading to a spiral of resentment). She hadn’t been in her room since she left. She could tell their mom had continued to clean it, not a single speck of desk settled on any surface in the room.

She began pulling the linen from the furniture, folding each one neatly and setting it on the end of her bed. Seeking the shadows of the house, she could read Pogo lingering in the parlor watching the door and their mother in the kitchen. The other’s had yet to arrive, she wondered if any of them would even show. As if her thoughts had manifested them, the sound of the drawbridge broke her inner dialogue.

She watched as Sven emerged from the car, stunned for a moment having to catch her breath. They were the last person Lucky expected to show, though maybe for that same reason they’d be the first one to want to confirm the guy was really dead. A metallic taste filled her mouth, Lucky realizing she’d been biting her lip so hard it began to bleed. Waiting for Sven to follow Pogo into the house, she opened her window as quietly as possible hanging out as she lit a cigarette.

Sliding into the chair beside the window so that she was hidden from sight but hanging her hand out the window so the smoke wouldn’t travel into the hallway, Lucky sat like that for a while. It was another three cigarettes when she heard the sound of the drawbridge again, peaking above with caution to watch Ronan ride in on a speed bike.

“Well that’s it,” She mumbled to herself, putting out her current cigarette and tossing the butt out the window. If Ronan and Sven were both in attendance, it was free game for anyone to show. How many ghosts would she have to face today? She was already chewing on her lip again, lighting up another cigarette in defeat. Anything to keep her hands busy.

Lucky paused, looking at her phone as if it had become the enemy. If there was ever a time to call Lucien, it’d be now – though admittedly she’d never called him when she was sober. She didn’t know if she’d be able to handle him not picking up today of all days, didn’t want that hanging over her head. Against her better judgement she hit the call button, smoking her cigarette furiously to stop herself from chewing her bottom lip raw.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Camila Hargreeves Character Portrait: Sven Hargreeves Character Portrait: Lucien Hargreeves Character Portrait: Ronan Hargreeves Character Portrait: Vya Hargreeves Character Portrait: Jaime Courtney
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Vya wasn't one for sadness. It wasn't his shade, didn't fit him. Besides, he wasn't sure sad was what he was even feeling. Shocked, definitely. But 'sad' was pushing it a little. He really hadn't thought Reginald Hargreeves would ever do them the kindness of dying.

He'd crumpled his letter up and tossed it in the trash only to dig it out the next day and read it again, chewing on his fingernails and pacing the length of his apartment. His husky, Koda, had paced with him in a show of solidarity.

Two days later he'd texted Ronan a simple: you going? and gotten an even simpler yeh as a reply. Which had pretty much sealed the deal that Vya was going. For one, he wasn't going to make Ro face it alone, and for two, he couldn't face it without Ro, so there was that.

He wasn't sure if any of the others would. He and Ronan had been the last to leave, and the only ones to really claim Dear Ol' Dad (although he had a feeling they both did it because it made it easier to pull the 'abused kid' card but that was besides the point). ((Or maybe it was just because Ro got outed and Vya couldn't let his sib go down alone.))

Besides, who else was going to go home, confirm the bastards death, deal with the will and estate and anything else? Lucien was too busy being a goddam hermit (Vya had tried calling him - about 15 times if his phone history was to be believed.) Lucky would probably laugh in the face of anyone who suggested she handle it. And Sven- no. It was him, and Ronan. He'd shit his pants if anyone else showed.

He took a shot and threw the damn letter away again.

• ♦ • ♦ •


Vya was drunk before he boarded the plane. He ordered another drink once he got settled, and spent the flight from Cali to NY playing games with a toddler in the seat next to him. His very tired mother looked very appreciative and neither of them acknowledged the fact that she 'accidentally' drank his coffee and baileys before taking a nap.

He fucked around in town for a bit, he hadn't been back to West Anne since he'd left the academy. He sent a few touristy pictures to a contact in his phone labeled '*Bee Emoji* J' and picked up a mug for him in a novelty shop and spelled out 'UNT' next to the handle. He could get the same stupid shit back home but he was traveling which made it special.

When he couldn't ignore what he was there for anymore, Vya found himself crossing that fucking drawbridge. While his PTSD didn't have shit on his siblings, it still wasn't pleasant, and he found himself wishing he could have held Ronan's attention long enough to coordinate their arrivals.

Pogo was waiting for him. Great. Vya took a swing from his flask.

"Master Vya-"

"I know my way around, I'm okay," Vya interrupted, his tone not as harsh as his words. Pogo opened his mouth, perhaps to say more, but for some reason Vya just really, really didn't want to hear it. "I need to take a walk."

He stood there just long enough to see Pogo nod his head and place both hands on a cane that was supporting him in his old age, then he fled. It wasn't about Pogo, not really, their relationship was pleasant if distant. It was about being home. The way the sea salt water smelled different on the West Coast than the East. It was about the way it felt crossing the draw bridge. It was about not being ready to enter the great hall and look into the face of a mother who hadn't aged a day since he was a child.

He didn't know where he was going at first. Why he bothered to run at all. It made more sense to go seek out Ronan (if they'd arrived yet) and a bottle of finely aged Scotch. But his feet propelled him outwards, until he was stumbling over graveyard dirt. A sad smile crossed his face as he realized where he was, and he pulled his flask from his coat again to take another drink before he climbed onto the statue and pressed his forehead against the cold metal of Ben's, preserved forever at sixteen. He wondered, briefly, if it was creepy now that he was an adult. But really, he didn't care.

"You could probably use a drink today too, huh?" Vya muttered, and let a little whiskey dribble onto the gravestone he was standing on. Find peace in the light. What a bunch of bullshit. "Don't worry, I won't let him be buried anywhere near you."