aortiic

[aortiic]

" it's  not  about  their  deaths,  and  it's  not  about  the  will  of  god.  but  beauty  and  horror  walk  hand  to  hand,  always  have  and  always  will.  a  lantern  is  beautiful  because  it  burns,  a  house  fire  is  ugly  because  it  burns. "  irina  had  not  been  religious  in  quite  some  time,  but  she  remembers  her  time  as  a  little  girl,  head  bowed  in  obedience,  trying  aimlessly  to  find  something  that  would  pass  as  divine  illumination.  the  only  illumination  she  ever  found  had  been  in  beating  hearts,  mangled  flesh,  blood  and  horror.  " if  adi,  or  the  old  gods,  or  anyone  else  really,  is  truly  an  all  powerful  force,  then  i  think  they  have  a  wicked  sense  of  humour.  and  i  admire  that. "  her  expression  changes  then,  from  the  questioning  scholar  to  a  pleasant,  smiling  lady.  " but don't let my philosophizing ruin the fun. it's a bad habit, i know, questioning the universe before supper time. an occupational hazard. "

"  and  with  your  fascinating  little  tale,  the  gods  justified  their  actions  how  ?  "  curiosity  is  sparked  from  the  woman  without  remorse  for  the  dead  or  the  living.  his  attentions  upon  the  lights  disappear  fully  as  he  wondered  what  beasts  lived  within  her  pretty  little  head.  "  so  you  mean  to  say  the  gods  decided  that  night  to  let  the  church  burn  with  all  it's  worshippers  ⸻  would  you  mind  indulging  me  how  their  deaths  are  fitting  to  this  tradition  ?  "  there  was  no  denying  that  evil  lived  within  them  all,  someone  just  weren't  afraid  of  displaying  their  darkness.  he  envied  that,  to  a  certain  extent,  for  the  agrawal  prince  did  not  know  if  he  could  be  looked  upon  as  evil.  to  the  dragova  royal  family  his  bloodline  were  devils  from  the  depths  of  hell,  but  from  hi  people's  perspective  they  were  the  salvation  to  their  fortune  and  wealth.

[aortiic]

the  tournament  was, at  last,  something  that  irina  could  find  some  entertainment  in.  though  she  considered  herself  above  brutish  violence,  it  was  nonetheless  easy  to  blend  with  the  hungry  crowd,  cheering  and  booing  and  mostly  keeping  her  raven  eyes  on  the  competitors,  their  strengths  and  weaknesses.  and  with  all  the  commotion  of  the  day,  it  was  easy  to  slip  in  and  out  of  sight.  "  me,  competing?  don't  be  silly,  i'm  not  cut  out  for  combat.  "  not  quite  truth,  of  course.  irina  was  known  as  an  excellent  archer  and  could  handle  herself  with  a  sword.  but  the  days  of  fighting  through  weapons  were  long  behind  her.  "  did  you  know  about  your brother's...  miraculous  recovery?  "  she  went  straight  to  the  point.  irina  was,  for  all  her  flaws,  not  one  to  evade.

        nothing  of  the  celebrations  had  his  attention  like  the  tournament  .  the  lit  lanterns  seemed  like  an  omen  of  bad  will  with  his  brother's  sudden  reappearance  at  court  ,  and  the  structure  that  the  melee  gave  helped  to  settle  rhys'  thoughts  .  it  was  easy  to  parry  and  dodge  blows  and  if  one  punch  was  too  strong  he  could  blame  it  on  momentum  rather  than  the  restlessness  of  stefan's  good  health  .  he  sat  to  wrap  his  hands  for  the  next  round  and  cocked  his  head  when  another  entered  the  combat  tent  .  he  was  unsure  of  if  they  were  in  search  of  him  or  not  ,  but  it  didn't  stop  his  motion  as  he  waited  for  them  to  either  speak  or  go  about  their  business  .  "  will  you  be  joining  ?  "  he  asked  when  it  seemed  like  they  were  waiting  for  him  to  invite  them  to  conversation  .   

open  starter  :  (  4  )

[aortiic]

"  they  probably  feel  like  glorified  farm  workers.  "  irina  smiles,  though  the  usual  snark  in  her  voice  is  not  as  biting.  there  are  few  people  in  the  world  whose  presence  irina  actually  enjoys,  and  verena  happens  to  be  one  of  them.  maybe  for  a   misguided  sense  of  childhood  nostalgia,  or  maybe  simply  because  they  don't  get  on  irina's  nerves  in  the  same  way  most  courtiers  do.  "  i  can,  and  i  absolutely  hate  it.  if  the  time  ever  comes  for  glorious  displays  of  the  salvator,  i  will  offer  you  up  as  the  perfect  model  healer.  "  irina  is  content  to  stay  in  dark  laboratories  and  libraries.  power  is  not  something  that  comes  necessarily  from  being  seen  after  all.

𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻   ╱    with @aortiic at crops' blessing

verena  stays  to  the  sidelines  as  they  watch  their  fellow  divine  at  work,  head  tilting  as  "what  ifs"  run  through  their  mind  ━━  and  for  a  moment,  they  forget  their  company.    ❝ i  wonder  what  goes  through  the  solaruis'  minds  while  they  do  this.  ❞  arms  crossed  over  her  chest,  the  curiosity  is  harmless  and  so  is  the  question.  a  mere  wild  thought  that  crosses  their  mind  and  exits  their  lips.  ❝ could  you  imagine  if  we  had  to  do  that  as  well?  ❞

[aortiic]

she  tilts  her  head,  a  wolfish  smile  upon  delicate  features  as  she  raises  an  eyebrow  to  the  stranger.  "  you're  not  very  good  humored,  are  you?  "  a  shrug  accompanies  her  words,  as  irina's  eyes  go  back  to  the  display  of  lights.  "  when  i  was  a  very  young  girl,  a  lighting  bolt  struck  a  small  wooden  church  in  the  countryside,  next  to  where  i  lived.  it  caught  on  fire,  leaving  everyone  there  injured  or  dead.  my  parents  talked  a  lot  about  the  will  of  god  and  divine  trials...  but  i  could  only  imagine  the  despair  of  those  taken  by  the  flames.  "  the  solemn  expression  is  gone  as quickly  as  it  came,  back  to  a  silver  smile  and  bored  expression.  "  so,  all  considered,  it  is  a  very  fitting  tradition.  "

brows  furrow  upon  princelings  face  at  his  companions  words.  what  sort  of  evil  mind  did  the  petite  woman  next  to  him  hold  to  say  such  words  ?  of  course,  the  bretovian  could  understand  the  difference  between  nobility  and  lowborn,  but  who  was  to  say  the  home  wasn't  of  noble  ownership  and  not  the  weak  and  feeble  ?  is  this  the  mind  of  the  divine  ?  the  cruelty  and  brutality  his  father  had  taught  him  ?  if  so,  he  would  not  mind  driving  a  knife  through  the  woman  before  him  if  need  be.  "  what  a  despicable  thing  to  say  about  an  unknowns  home.  "  he  murmurs  before  golden  hues  turn  to  what  seems  a  wicked  woman  next  to  him.

[aortiic]

irina  doesn't  try  to  hide  her  scowl.  she  doesn't  have  times  for  these  stupids  festivities,  for  the  games  and  spectacles  and  laughter.  there  is  work  to  be  done, real  work,  in  her  dark  laboratories  and  libraries.  yet,  she  knows  the  power  that  symbols  hold. if  smoke  and  mirror  will  make  the  people  happy,  and  will  most  importantly  make  the  king  content,  then  so  be  it.  "  it's  paper  and  flames.  "  she replies  drily.  "  beautiful  now  but  even  more  so  when  they  fall  into  the  wooden  house  of  a  poor  bastard.  "

open   starter   for   :   rohan   agarwal   zamfir   &   open   (   accepting   4   replies   ) location:   the   lantern   release

like  rising  stars  the  lanterns  float  through  the  air  of  the  capital  of  valanya.  a  sight  given  to  it's  people.  so  raven  haired  trickster  stands  amongst  unknown  weak  and  feeble  beings  of  a  country  betraying  their  own  gods.  how  many  times  had  he  not  watched  the  divine  perform  their  miracles  and  disasters  ?  they  were  an  abomination  created  from  darkness,  forbidden,  horrid  and  yet.  "  they  are  beautiful  to  look  at.  "  he  murmurs  to  himself,  eyes  reflecting  the  fire  of  the  lanterns  before  turning  to  companion.  "  do  you  not  think  so  ?  "

[aortiic]

The End of the F***ing World (2017—)

[aortiic]

“ THUS STRANGELY ARE OUR SOULS CONSTRUCTED, AND BY SLIGHT LIGAMENTS ARE WE BOUND TO PROSPERITY AND RUIN. ” — VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN

wasn’t that IRINA FLORESCU walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the LADY OF HOUSE FLORESCU / MASTER SCHOLAR out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously CHOLERIC, whilst also managing to be quite CLEVER. the TWENTY EIGHT year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves ARE divine ( SALVATOR ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the metallic tang of blood mingling with the scent of old parchment; prayers whispered under her breath, not to god but to herself; pale hands dripping with crimson hot blood.

* ˖ ♡ 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔰 . . .      NAME: irina florescu.     NICKNAMES: ira, irinka (affectionate form).     MONIKER: the red angel.     GENDER: cis woman.     PRONOUNS: she/her.     SEXUALITY: bisexual.     AGE: twenty eight years old.     RESIDENCY: the bran keep.     OCCUPATION: master scholar in the king’s small council. CHARACTER INSPO: victor frankenstein, rasputin, lady macbeth, old lottie matthews (yellowjackets), raskolnikov (crime and punishment), kendall roy (succession). 

* ˖ ♡ 𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔢 . . .     FACECLAIM: emily bader.     HEIGHT: 5’4 ft / 164 cm.     EYES: big and round hazel eyes, with a clever glint similar to those of birds; always seem to be just slightly bloodshot.     HAIR: an unassuming brunette with long hair that is normally wavy when not in a practical braid or updo.      OTHER: the distinctive coppery smell of blood clings to her no matter how much perfume she wears, how much time she spends scrubbing her hands. 

* ˖ ♡ 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 . . .     POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES: brilliant, charismatic, strategic, intrepid.     NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES: arrogant, obsessive, manipulative, emotionally and morally unstable.     TEMPERAMENT: choleric.     LIKES: mulled wine, new parchment, old books, lighting storms, the quiet of the castle at night, expensive perfume, and her black cat, who normally stays in her chambers but can be seen wandering the castle from time to time. his name is, ironically, canis.     DISLIKES: long religious sermons, the smell of decay (blood and flesh are one thing, but rot is another, too close to the memories of the battlefield), chocolate, migraines, watery ale.     SKILLS: a talented scholar, anatomist and healer. has quite an artistic vein, but is normally contained to beautiful and accurate anatomical drawings. quite good with a bow and arrow, and will never pass up a deer hunt. 

𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦. irina is brought up on her knees. she learns her first words from prayer books, takes her first steps beneath paintings of the one true god, always bathed in light filtered through stained glass and the heavy scent of incense. the florescu are traditionalists, the kind who abhor the cult of the divine, who believe in the superiority of the one true god, and of ordinary men. but even as a child, irina knows there is something inside her that does not belong. not grace. not humility. something hotter, something sharp-edged and seething.

𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦𝔦. finding out she is a divine is not a surprise. she has always known, in the marrow of her bones, that something coils within her, twisting, waiting. the nature of her gift, however, is unexpected. with her fiery temper, she imagined herself an infern, or at the very least a corporal. but at seven years old, she tumbles down the stairs and slams her knee against stone. in a fit of madness, she grips her own leg, feels the shattered pieces shifting beneath her skin—and shoves them back into place. her screams ring through the marble halls, but when they stop, so does the pain. her knee is whole again.

at the academy, irina becomes one of the finest healers of her time. she can pull men from the brink of death with a touch, mend broken bones with a hum, stitch together torn flesh with her fingers alone. but her healing is neither beautiful nor painless. she leaves constellations of scars on the skin of the saved, and gains the moniker of the red angel, feared and revered on the battlefield, her presence as much a comfort as a curse. in time, she becomes accustomed to the smell of coppery blood, rotting flesh, all bodies, dead and alive, becoming a jumbled mass of limbs in her mind. 

𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦. when her service ends, she goes to the castle, still hungry. though for what, she cannot yet say. knowledge. power. perhaps something between the two. she devours old tomes of medicine and anatomy, learns how flesh and bone bend beneath her hands, how life clings so desperately to the body. and then, a new question takes root: if she can heal a man whose heart is beating, what should stop her from healing one whose heart has already stilled?

a dying king looks into her eyes and sees promise in the madness burning there. he keeps her close, feeds her ambition, and names her master scholar — the youngest in the council’s history. and so it begins.

* ˖ ♡ 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 . . .    

people who are untrusting of irina and her role in the council

childhood friendships 

her morality anchor, one last person who believes in irina’s possibility to be a good person 

companions from the academy and army

political enemies and rivals

enemies and lovers: kissing with a dagger to the throat. these two match each other’s freaks and make it everyone else’s problem. 

her siblings (check the wanted connections)

an ex-mentor, now political enemy (check the wanted connections)

[aortiic]

SUCCESSION (2018 - 2023)

3x08 | 4x09

[aortiic]

EMILY BADER as QUEEN JANE GREY — 1.06 | "I Feel Free"

[aortiic]

American Horror Story: Coven | 3.04: Devil’s Night

I am, after all, the Supreme.

[aortiic]

#life of the party (insp)

[aortiic]

AORTIC ( adj ) : relating to the aorta — the main artery of the body . a study on the anatomy of hubris , the thin yet stark line between life and death , and women who dream only in shades of vibrant red .

IRINA FLORESCU : intro * ˖ ♡ musings * ˖ ♡ visage * ˖ ♡ threads

[aortiic]

[aortiic]

EMILY BADER as Lady Jane Grey in MY LADY JANE: With A Girl Like You (2024)