surelenore-arc

[surelenore-arc]

romy.

the purpose being… to bring him prey and then take over the world? “Exactly!” Romy deliberately misses the tone in Lenore’s voice. “Go big or go home, that’s what I always say. And if someone is running a cult bent on world domination -- which, by the way, I am neither confirming or denying -- then I personally am of the opinion that it’s sensible to throw your lot in with them. It’s like befriending the biggest kid on the playground, you know. Nobody’ll pick on you if you’re friends with ‘em.  And you know, Lenore, I don’t know if I love your insintuation that I’m bad at laying low. Do you know how many murder trials I’ve faced? It’s a lot lower than the number of murders I’ve committed. If I’m so bad at laying low, how’s that possible?” She doesn’t take criticism well, ever. And especially not coming from anyone remotely parentally aged. Romy takes it extremely personally, actually, and that’s why Santi has earned her undying devotion: while he may chide her, he always does it in such a way that suggests he’s only disappointed because he knows she can do better. Lenore is more blunt, and in the face of bluntness, if Romy can’t get approval she gets her feelings hurt. @romy-rubenstein

every "cult" based on world domination was destined to fail. the leader could be as charismatic as jones, could be doubly powerful, but world domination did not exist. domination of other beings, though ? sure... a shame that romy had fallen into that trap, under that umbrella, and had been brainwashed by the most obvious fraud -- though, credit where credit was due: the fraud had a talent at convincing the more... naive. all to say: the girl was so under his questionable spell that trying to convince her otherwise ? point out the flaws in her logic ? in his logic ? a futile task. " i don't know if i love your insinuation that you've faced any murder trials in the first place. " -- a half-joke, given that she would not be surprised if it had just been a slip of the tongue, a poor choice of wording... but also given that she would not be surprised if romy had faced murder trials ! " what i mean, romy, is that we don't look for world domination. we lay low, focus on self-preservation, and santiago does not. ergo, if you take to santiago's methods... "

[surelenore-arc]

romy-rubenstein​:

“I’m sorry about your friends. Must be awful to see someone you care about in a state like that.” Romy says in a rare moment of earnestness. She can imagine nothing worse than being a complete zombie like this guy, and sincerely hopes she never has to find out just how truly blissful ignorance may be.

But she does smile, pointily, when Lenore asks what it is about Santi. “I’m sure there’s better men than him. But he gives me a purpose, and I like his ambition. Why? You jealous?” Romy teases; maybe Lenore wishes she had her own little rusalka to lure people into Moonscar full time!

“ a breathing corpse... ” in a way, the same could be said for romy ( and her ilk... but, also in a way, lenore was already counting them ). legally speaking, she was dead. something in the world just outside of theirs, just outside of what they could touch, wanted her. starcaller would call it a mutation in her genetics, but the wist was lost. but she still had the most important thing a person could possess, the most valuable thing anyone could have: an autonomous mind. the husks ? the man she had brought with her, the friends that drew the short stick... horrifying, really. oh, but to be over two centuries old and still dwell on it ? “ well, you know why they call the past ‘the past’ -- because it’s passed. this slab of meat, on the other hand... he’s already proven his worth. he’s a knock-out with impressions. ”

his ambition... to take over the world with an undead army ? that was rather cheap, if you asked lenore. boring, clichéd, literally written about over a hundred times over in works of fiction. “ the purpose being... to bring him prey and then take over the world ? ” he was able to run a cult on that doctrine ? was there no critical thinking ? “ as much as i would’ve loved to have had you join -- ” -- when she thought romy was some kind of siren, that is ( zombies didn’t really count ) -- “ -- we’ve always taken to laying low. ” originally ? as a method of protection. now ? most outsiders weren’t worth the trouble. “ but credit where credit is due, your kills could’ve left some of us in the green for decades. ” some of them -- often including lenore ! -- just didn’t like to get their hands dirty until it was absolutely necessary...

[surelenore-arc]

saintjcmes​:

“Oh no. A duchy here and there, but no regime yet. I’m working as puppetmaster behind the throne.” She is, though it’s not too gauche to say it yet—it’s a joke. Mostly playful banter. Though mostly is a sixty-forty split right now. A girl has to have dreams, of course. “Would you like to accompany me for the afternoon? I can have my driver escort us to… well, wherever you want to go.”

“ well, i do hope you conquer it sooner rather than later. god knows it could use someone with more... power. ” and it was no lie ! for all the ‘planting the roots’ lenore had done in chicago, she could easily pick up and leave ( god knows she wasn’t planning on sticking around until the Moon fell down ) -- her history was full of it ! but... it needed something a little stronger, a little more trustworthy, first. “ it would be a joy to, but... only if it’s the best motor vehicle the city has to offer, and only if it’s the best escort the city has to offer. ”

[surelenore-arc]

romy-rubenstein​:

Amused by the undead hokey-pokey, Romy hops down from her boat and lands on the ground with a wet thwack, wiggling her webbed toes against the tarmac. It’s nice to stretch them out sometimes; her toes tend to splay a little more than they used to, and shoes are kind of constricting. She puts her left foot in and shakes it all about in tandem with the zombie, grinning sharply at him even though he probably won’t know or understand… well… anything.

But she frowns at Lenore’s question, shrugging one shoulder. “I never really consider that I came back,” she glances back at the water. “I don’t feel undead. I just feel like I can’t drown. But if I had come back like that… I mean, I don’t think these guys are happy or unhappy. Are ya, buddy?” Romy slaps his shoulder in a friendly manner. “But I guess yeah, minutiae aside, I like being like this. I can help Santi a lot more like this than if I was just some undead shill.”

Oh, she knows Lenore and Santi have their differences. But they also have a lot in common; Romy’s not naïve, so she doesn’t have much hope they’ll really ever get on, but it’d be nice if they did.

They’re both more powerful than her, so she wouldn’t dare try and mash them together like barbie dolls, but the thought does occur sometimes.

if there was anything lenore could appreciate, it was an unapologetically obvious mutant. while she had her qualities, they were few and far between compared to the likes of romy. compared to the likes of the crocodile men, long extinct ; compared to the likes of the birds in the cypress, long forgotten. there was such beauty in the ‘grotesque,’ such beauty in the othered. she had half a mind to believe that carson mccullers, champion in the beauty of the grotesque, had been among them.  “ friends of mine, most of them came back more akin to him than to yourself. ” and they would serve. and their purpose would be fulfilled. and they would die. unfortunate that they were becoming more autonomous as the decades flew past. “ ignorance is bliss, i suppose, ” she added, rather off-hand. but sometimes she wondered: are these zombies quite as dead as they seem? or is there a consciousness buried within, begging to be let go? -- in the end, real death was better than the thought of the latter. if it weren’t... ah, santi ! hell, romy may have been his very own fido -- but, worse, with a very obvious consciousness. “ what... is it about santiago ? i’ve met far better men than himself. ” did they have a fair working relationship ? sure ! did she get it ? not at all... and, god, it was times like these that she was reminded of just how ‘undead’ romy was !

[surelenore-arc]

who: @echoanswered​ what: ♫ this could be the start of something new ♫ where: dealer’s choice!

“ you know, i knew a woman who looked like you a few years back. ” more like a couple centuries -- before her cypress fell and before her home was dispelled. there isn’t much tact, rather straight-to-the-point, but she had found that most mutants so visibly different were always either talked to like children who needed protecting or monsters who needed exiling. “ you don’t happen to know a simone deveraux ? ” ...probably not, considering she’d died about 150 years ago now, but it would be a great segue !

[surelenore-arc]

sabbioneta​:

Leo doesn’t always have a good memory for faces. Or names. But there are some even she can’t forget: like Lenore’s. While her devout belief in God is something she has clung to more reliably than almost anything, even that has not been entirely unshakeable. There had been a time when that faith wavered, and she sought a solution with Lenore.

But when that solution was about as effective as every other Leo has tried (that is to say, utterly ineffective), she concluded that the problem was not God. So she went crawling back to Him on repentant knees, obviously. It didn’t occur to her that Lenore might hold a grudge over a thing like that. Leo certainly doesn’t have the capacity to hold grudges for decades or centuries!

“Lenore! You look wonderful. How are you? How’s Moonscar?“ Leo’s thoughts on Moonscar are… complicated, but she can certainly see the appeal of conditional immortality. She only hates her own because it’s apparently without limit, without end. But whatever she thinks, she doesn’t like villainising people anyway. People are so complex, and they always have their reasons for everything. Leo certainly wouldn’t presume to judge who is right and who is wrong; that’s for God to do.

lenore could handle people leaving moonscar. after all, at the start, it had been more for their protection than anything ( it wasn’t just immortality that the Moon had offered ) -- should they choose to forsake it, that was their prerogative. and, in most cases, lenore held no ill-will towards those who came and went -- especially as the years went on. it started with a focal point on cat island*, sure, but it branched into something more... nomadic. people would join, and people would leave. it was natural. no, what she could not handle -- what she would remember for a century, hold onto for a century -- was ( perceived ) betrayal. any hate she had in her heart had been directed towards one ( very large ) group: the christians. so it was not that leonarda had left. it was not that leonarda was immortal with no catch ( limitlessness... was there much to envy when the Earth would take her much deserved breather one day ? ). no, no -- they had planned together, they had tried together. futile. and it was the futility of it that found leonarda in ‘his’ arms again -- again, pretty ironic ! “ it’s adapting. ” which was to say, it was doing well, though the mission statement was warping as modernity swept through it. no one needed that same protection they once did. need was no longer much of a word -- everyone wanted. the hubris of man, the downfall that would come... “ you’re looking rather wonderful, yourself. ” in the immortal words of ian anderson: he who made kittens put snakes in the grass ! “ how’s your god ? ”

[surelenore-arc]

romy-rubenstein​:

.

Romy is ‘sunbathing’  – that is to say, she’s lying on the gunwale of her boat wearing a soggy black sundress, eyes closed, dripping calmly with her arms thrown over her eyes, but not actually managing to pick up a tan. She’s not sure if it’s her water or what but the sun doesn’t have much effect on her these days. She’s always clammy and cold. But a familiar voice catches her attention, and she tilts her head, peering out from under her arm to see Lenore with her latest… companion.

“He do tricks?” she asks with a grin, propping herself up on her elbow. She likes Lenore! Not with the same undying devotion she likes Santi, but, you know, if you’re going to project your daddy issues onto a male cult leader, why not go the whole hog and project your mommy issues onto a female cult leader, too!

“ fortunately. ” -- which was to say: she wouldn’t be paying santiago’s ‘family’ a visit that evening. he came into being perfectly tailored to suit her requests -- which was also good news for him. unlike the grand majority of ‘the blessed,’ he wouldn’t be spending an eternity in the hellish limbo of zombification. he would serve his purpose, she’d release him to return to stardust. perhaps she’d give him a proper burial, perhaps he would be left for the Earth to engulf him as she pleased. in any case, he would die. he would die and he would stay dead. and, while death was not on lenore’s bucket-list ( not until the moon fell, at least ), if she had to choose between living centuries as a zombie and dying ? the choice was obvious ! turning to the man, good only for monkey-hear monkey-do, she said, “ rover, do the hokey pokey. ” and, of course, on cue, he began to put his left foot in, then his left foot out, then his left foot in, then he shook it all about ! “ happy you didn’t come back like that ? ” god knows she was already under santiago’s thumb, something lenore failed to understand ( what was so captivating about him ? what drove romy’s need to please him ? she liked to think romy was, if nothing else, a modicum smarter than the other ‘undeads’ that roamed his little compound... ), but if she’d come back as a literal follower ? oh... yes, maybe she would’ve welcomed death !

[surelenore-arc]

saintjcmes​:

@surelenore​​—

“Isn’t this a surprise? What’s someone like you doing here, Miss Delacroix?” Beneath her shades is a sly recognition—of long dead stories that her grandmother used to tell her as a little girl. The moon and of women and of the dead crawling out of the swamp. A defunct Misty Moore. “A long trek from the bayou.”

“ oh, i’m sure you’re familiar with the classic tale of the weary traveler. and a city like this is... a change of pace. ” was chicago an ideal place to lay down her roots, per se ? not quite, but the... options were plentiful, and she had until the moon turned into meteors. “ i trust you’ve turned it into your very own regime by now ? ”

[surelenore-arc]

who: @sabbioneta​ what: an unwelcome reunion (may playing a character who has poor rapport with leo is gonna be her biggest challenge yet) where: dealer’s choice!

she was entirely, unconditionally, immortal ( that much could not be argued ! ) was it something to envy ? all these years later, lenore still had yet to decide. it was clear as day that leonarda had seen it as a curse, but she had a desire lenore would never share. she had a fear that lenore would never understand. and her way of dealing with that desire and that fear... so counterintuitive. pray to the god you believe placed the hex ? pray as if you’ll meet him ? return to his arms ? it didn’t seem quite right ! all that to say -- entirely, unconditionally, immortal ? it was not a stretch to think they would meet again one day. so long as lenore kept up with the deal she had struck with the moon, there would always be that chance... but it was certainly not expected to happen so very soon ! “ what will it be ? ” she said, slinking into view... because, like cat. and because, like, may just wanted to find a way to get into the scene, but she can’t really think right now and she’s really glad she’s in a rp that appreciates breaking the fourth wall since she’s seen people run to rphs because they hate fun. “ about a century this august ? ”

[surelenore-arc]

kingcadaver​:

         “i prefer to call it a family.” the blessed, obviously, is a cult—but santiago is the only person there that realizes this. that’s how all good cults work, after all. you sucker in the people you want to stay and lock the doors behind them. his success comes in the fact that the door he’s locking is the door to life itself… you can’t escape undeath except to die again. “the word cult is so… what’s the word? controversial.” there are people that know of the compound that rightfully use that word, but he discourages that talk wherever he can. it’s not like he needs to sell his so-called family ( the only outsiders allowed in that can also walk back out are people like lenore ) but it’s best to keep any well-meaning investigations to a minimum. after all, there are only so many times you can kill a cop without them bringing back a swarm. and swarms require much more planning to properly eradicate.

         it’s clear that lenore only sees the undead as tools to use, rather than people worth the same respect as the living. that’s fine. her attitude will change when her own time comes, when the prolongment of her life comes to an end—once all life is eradicated, she’ll have no choice. santiago is patient enough to deal with her disdain in the meantime. “would you like to take them with you now? or wait until midnight?” it made little difference to him. as it stood, this decrepit being had no actual use to him. if they had to wait, then they would wait. in the same place, unmoving, unresponsive until mother came to take them home.

.

“ going the manson route, then ? ” -- then again, even manson had a doctrine. what was santiago’s ? hell, if everyone there was already dead... what was there to believe in ? what was there to feed them ? how long could ‘a purpose’ last ? credit where credit was due, it seemed to work... but his followers didn’t exactly have a mind of their own. they couldn’t exactly think for themselves -- not as they used to be able to, at least. show them some gruff man who has the solution to being dead ( see: yeah, still being dead, but, like... it’s okay, because we’ll take over the world! )... if he ever got any living followers, she’d be quite impressed ! “ i’d be glad to go ahead and take them off yours hands, but... ” the species had been raised by santiago. up until she could transfer ownership, it would be no use to her. it would do whatever he requested, certainly ! he could ask it to do a little dance, and it’d dance. he could ask it to go on a shopping spree, and it’d go on a shopping spree. he could ask it to prep a five star dinner, and it’d prep a five star dinner ( or... try to... ). “ i don’t think they’ll be of much use to either of us until midnight. ” even if it were of use to santiago -- what with its willingness to blindly obey ( more so than any of his other followers, and that was saying something ! ) -- it could only execute plans so well as it stood. “ however, if you’re looking to grow some better flora around here, i’m sure they’d be happy to do a little gardening for you. ” santiago may have understood ‘the undead’ better than she could ever hope ( ...not that she would ever hope... ), but god knows she understood zombies.

[surelenore-arc]

who: @romy-rubenstein​ what: *jennifer check vc* no, i’m killing boys where: i’m picturing house boat adjacent, but v open!

it was a shame, really. so much power, so much determination, and so much othered-ness was being wasted on santiago’s ‘cult’ ( which, without a doctrine... was a sorry excuse for one ). had lenore come across her a second sooner, she would’ve been none the wiser -- playing pretend, as if she were unaware that romy was just another type of zombie, wouldn’t have been necessary. she looked like a biblically accurate mermaid ! but what’s done is done... nonetheless, the company was refreshing ! a game to play -- one that actually made use of all the men she had to transform, either for her own life or the lives of those within her circle ( or, in this case, a suspected life... ) patting on her thigh and having half a mind to call ‘here, boy! good boy! does the good boy want a treat? oh, yes he does, yes he does!,’ a little stumbling fella trailed behind. “ old fido over here marks the third one this week. ”

[surelenore-arc]

kingcadaver​:

         just as lenore doesn’t understand the blessed and their preoccupation with undeath… santiago will never understand the coven’s obsession with prolonging life. almost all things will die in the end, with death being the only true constant in existence—surpassing this barrier only gives an individual more power, not less. no ties to morality, to bodily maintenance, to the expectations of the living… why bother to remain in such a state? to be weakened by it? but they could have argued in circles forever with neither person willing to give ground. the difference in opinion was unimportant—it was only their similarities that santiago gave any real thought.

         “every so often, i meet someone that cannot be helped.” or rather, someone too unimportant to offer his help to. there are those that bring him people too dead to be properly resurrected ( and yes, there is such a thing ) or too dependent on that state of being to be integrated. the half-corpse in question is of no use to him, lulled into a state of minute consciousness… but lenore had always fancied the thoughtless. “this is one of them. you might be able to make more use of them than i can. otherwise…” he shrugs. they’ll be returned to the earth in a thousand pieces, fed to the rest of the compound. useless for anything more than sustenance.

.

if there was one thing lenore recognized in a zombie, it was its ability to be of use to her. and only one type ( species ? breed ? ) had a record of such ( luckily, one of the more common when life-force was extracted, but... still, not the constant ). they had grown easy to recognize, to differentiate from the other types of zombies who belonged at santiago’s compound to go help him take over the world ( or whatever it was he believed they would do -- alas, the world did not, and never would, bow to man ). and it was like a birthday present ! gonna need you to look in the tags for the exact tone of voice to read that in.  “ you do know what a woman wants, ” lenore remarked as the zombie -- useless to him, perfect to her -- came into the picture. “ maybe i can see the appeal of your cult, after all. ” a complete joke ! -- not that it was delivered as such, but god knows they both knew it. must it be reiterated ? the word ‘cult’ being in the name ? yes, zombies weren’t very wise... “ from my experience with this... species, ” she really didn’t know the proper nomenclature among the blessed ! -- not that she would give it much of a second thought if she weren’t talking to a... business partner ? “ you’ll never have to see them again come midnight. ” until then -- until she was able to transfer ownership... there was a chance it would try to cling to santiago, waiting for him to give it a command. alas, they hadn’t the ability to understand what ‘take over the world with me! worship me!’ meant, and what else could santiago ever want a zombie who did not understand the ‘gift’ or ‘undeath’ for ?

[surelenore-arc]

kingcadaver​:

         santiago eyes the shambling corpse with a critical gaze, watching as ( just as she’s said ) they wobble without the steady hand she’s taken to their shoulders. it’s not uncommon for those raised without his… expertise… to falter in certain ways, the return of their full range of motion being among them. it’s one reason that the ritual of undeath is so long—to reduce the chance that a new body in the ranks would be too weak to be of any real use. this one will need attending to before he’s going to be doing much of anything. a different ritual, one crafted specifically for the arrangement that the two share.

         “so i see. sound in mind, but not in body.” technically, not sound in anything right about now, but he knows the drill. she doesn’t want anyone that can still think for themselves. neither does he, but santiago has a very good way of dealing with that. integrating them into his greater will won’t harm the ability to think, but it will do away somewhat with the pesky individuality that so often creates turncoats and traitors. “we’ll get him sorted in his new home.” with a new purpose, a new strength, among those that can truly understand the condition of undeath. the only condition that will outlast any other!

         two others come forth to steady the newcomer in her place, as he beckons her away from the preparations he will undergo. “believe it or not, i have something for you.”

.

santiago and his cult’s obsession with the concept of ‘undeath’ -- she would never understand it. she had spent two centuries around and creating zombies. even the most autonomous, fully-functioning among them was nothing but a husk of what it had once been. hell, some were more akin to dogs than they were humans. if it was immortality they desired, why not seek it when they were still... who they were ? yes, perhaps it was not a choice for some -- not an active decision. but, even so, what was there to relish in upon resurrection ? every zombie who celebrated death must have been exceptionally weak in their lives. 

“ one way to put it. ” lenore had taken enough to tell the difference between a zombie who would be of use once its consciousness was fully restored and a zombie who would be better off buried again ( or, nowadays, be better off at santiago’s compound -- a much more humane solution, even if it was a literal cult ). no one was sound after their life force had been removed from their being, but... they would be. and, when they would be, they would not be right. they would be something new, something gothically grotesque. ‘undeath’ was a tragedy, not a gift. as such, she allowed santiago’s minions to remove the wobbling zombie and stepped to the side with him. “ do you ? ” the alliance, if one could call it such, was fragile enough for lenore to know better than to expect anything truly worth its salt. anything that would be of benefit to her and moonscar, and her and moonscar alone. but he had already done her one great favor... “ and here i thought the best part of my day would be getting wobbles a new home. ”

[surelenore-arc]

who: @kingcadaver​ what: hehe zombies funny where: santiago’s compound​

it was a mystery to lenore, how anyone found... peace in the confines of santiago’s cult. it was not to her liking -- rather unsightly, but chalk that up to the hoards of zombies that roamed the grounds. just because these specific zombies still had autonomy and intelligence didn’t mean they’d come back quite right. after all, who would join a cult that literally had the word ‘cult’ in its name ? oh, funny little fellows... nonetheless, santiago had proven to be a fine provider of mutualism, lest the streets be taken over by the zombies she created ( and those that came back by their own volition ). it would be a curse to both the undead and the living ! “ i’ve a new offering for you. ” a new burden in her mind, a new mind to shape in his. she held the zombie by his shoulders as he worked to come into full consciousness -- much to her chagrin, he appeared to still be clearly autonomous enough to not be of any worth to her. “ he can’t take a step without tripping over his own two feet, ” she warned, more for the comedy aspect of it... moving her hand away from his shoulders, it took all of two seconds for the guy to begin wavering, foolishly trying to raise his arms to balance himself before lenore returned her hands to steady him. it would be so sad when he attained full consciousness again. 

[surelenore-arc]

i. “man with the hex” - the atomic fireballs // ii. “the raven” - edgar allan poe // iii. “hotel california” - the eagles

( SIMONE KESSELL, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that LENORE ANARO-DELACROIX is a ~242 year old BOOKKEEPER AT PANACEA/FOUNDER OF MOONSCAR that’s been in Chicago for FORTY-FIVE YEARS. According to the file, they’re a mutant on LEVEL THREE with the power of WERECAT PHYSIOLOGY + RITUAL MAGIC. That must be why they’re MAGNETIC and SELF-SERVING. If you ask me, they remind me of a pendant placed beneath the harvest moon, the grandfather clock striking midnight, vultures hovering around the remains of a black cat. They are affiliated with MOONSCAR.

QUICK FACTS:

full name: lenore desiree anaro-delacroix

date of birth: january 18th, 1781

zodiac big three: capricorn sun, leo moon, scorpio rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual

ethnicity: ½ white, ½ māori

nationality: us american

religion: wicca-adjacent

languages spoken: english (5), māori (5) french (5), latin (4), spanish (3)

enneagram: 3w4

mbti: intj

temperament: melancholic-choleric

alignment: true neutral

ability: werecat physiology + ritual magic

affiliation: moonscar

alias: la lune

BACKSTORY

triggers: violent religious extremism ( brief ), death/murder

a long, lucky line on her father’s side of the family: some centuries ago, a man got on the monarchy’s good side. a few years after that, that man’s son used the plot to become a land owner and make money off the backs of renters. some centuries after that, having amassed more than decent wealth, a man sailed to the usa and settled. and some years after that, her father took his inherited wealth and uprooted his new england life to be with a woman he had met in what would soon be the state of louisiana.

her mother could not say the same. she had been the first person in her family to have a halfway happy tale. a man she believed she could say she loved, a daughter she believed she could say she loved -- but, more important, a new home. she had moved by choice. she had gotten the opportunity to choose.

where she had chosen ? it was quiet and remote and home to The Othered. home to the men in the swamp, home to the women in the cypress trees, home to the group that looked to the sun for questions and the moon for answers. ( the white, rich, non-mutant ex-christian guy was the odd one out for once ! ) 

it was luck of her father’s side, and the freedom of her mother, that allowed lenore to grow in the society they had formed. were things always roses ? no, of course not ! her father’s gradual anger at being the outsider... her mother’s gradual distancing... but it was made up for when all else was taken into account.

although remote, the occasional passerby or hunter was not unthought of. with their proximity to the bayou, fishers stumbled by often. but it never seemed to matter much... 

...until it did. 

word eventually made its way to a group of religious extremists. between their worshipping practices and the ~20% of the population that did not look human, all who were drawn there were drawn by the devil ! they launched an attack, unforeseen by the population. they pillaged and drove folks away at best, they absolutely slaughtered at worst. even the alligatormen could do nothing with their lack of preparation.

in the cacophony of it all, lenore and one other managed to get to one of their underground temples. a moon pendant placed below the orange glow of the harvest moon, an agreement that there would be an offering in return for safety, the unexpected turn came along: she became something halfway between cat and human. a fluke. 

it had been blinding after that. blood. mummifying bodies. decomposition. quick. some of them came back -- but they didn’t come back right.

when all was said and done, the blindness done away with, the only people still standing were herself and who she had snuck past the attack with. it couldn’t happen again, a silent agreement. the ones that had come back, but not quite right, did what lenore and her friend needed them to do. they kept trespassers away. and they directed them when the harvest moon was nearing, fearing that it would all come back if they didn’t keep it up. 

some years later, louisiana was in more turmoil than she had seen it in in a long time. not content to let sleeping dogs lie, everyone who could have once fit in with their community was offered seclusion. the only catches ? 1) no one could know where they were, and 2) participation in the rituals that would protect them all.

sooner rather than later, it had become home to more than just two ( plus a hoard of zombies ) again. dubbed ‘moonscar,’ they were up and running in solitude. 

but, in complete solitude ( now more important than ever ), how were they meant to take life force ? it started as drawing straws... and, perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was the unconscious desire, perhaps it was the dedication they had offered, but when those who sacrificed themselves in the name of immortality, they came back the same. they were simply... dead. slower, more one-track-minded, but not under the curse of only being able to do what lenore and co. wished them to.

however, as everything trudged forth and life became longer, lenore grew more empowered... whereas the one companion she had had in a century grew more tired with each passing day. 

she volunteered that next harvest moon. a vicious back-and-forth followed -- immortality and protection and, dare she say, friendship ? but it ultimately fell upon deaf ears. she had been waiting.

so lenore sacrificed her. and she came back as a... ‘follower zombie.’ and lenore’s first instruction, the curse she laid upon her ? to stay. 

a turning point, maybe, pivoting from self-preservation to self-serving. but who would she be ? totally alone. despite the number of members, she would be totally alone. 

i’d love to angst about this more, but the intro is getting long already, so let’s go over to this:

1845, edgar allan poe wrote ‘the raven.’ it was not until 1870, when the state had had time to cool off, that lenore read it. she disappeared, read it over time and time again. and she released her friend from the curse.

and she left louisiana. some followed her, keeping the sense of protection and belonging. some stayed behind, clueless as barely any word had been given. 

and she traveled to different states. and one trip to europe. and one trip to asia. one trip to oceania. one trip to zealandia to see her mother’s origins. 

the years finally began moving again when she landed in chicaco, illinois. 1978. the wealth passed down to her covered the move. and she and the few people left with her officially re-established moonscar, always keeping an eye out. 

it may be worth noting that she had never considered herself a ‘mutant.’ she had seldom heard the word. it was only after some tests performed by james ‘starcaller’ baird, at her request ( see: trying to figure out if there was a way to make her immortality permanent ), that she learned it was all genetic. that she was a ‘mutant.’ 

a word she would seldom use ! she was part of the supernatural world, of kids’ nightmarish folklore. 

but, to keep the human guise, she picked up work at a local new age shop... after a little too long. she kept the books. to her, it was easy. to her, it was mindless. 

you know, i’m never very good at finishing intros.

TIMELINE

1780s: lenore is born in nowhere, louisiana. the community is very communal. the odd one out is the rich white guy who’s human and used to identify as christian. most have been drawn for one reason or another. there are alligatormen in the swamps, women in the cypress trees, questions asked of the sun and answers given by the moon. 

1810s: the community is attacked by a group of christian religious extremists. everyone is slaughtered or driven away to god-knows-where. lenore and a friend are able to sneak into an underground temple and make an offering to the harvest moon: a person in return for protection. and lenore is unaware of her ritual magic. they turn into creatures of the night, a complete fluke, and the assailants got fucked ! initially believed to be dead, many of them resurrected... as zombies who were forced to do what she and her friend said. so they used them to keep people away -- up until each harvest moon came, that is. they couldn’t risk another attack, after all ! and they didn’t seem to be aging much ! ...if at all !

1840s: upheaval in louisiana and a sign of worse things to come, the outside world was braved to house and protect the vulnerable. they had to keep it a secret, they had to participate in the rituals... but that was about it.  harvest moons were dreaded, though. with complete seclusion came the inability to draw outsiders without setting off any alarms. so everyone, save for lenore and her friend, drew straws. some came back similar to who they once were, some were only as bright and autonomous as those assailants.

1850s: lenore’s friend has grown tired of immortality. she’s grown tired of having to kill to live. she’s grown tired of living. so she volunteers to be the sacrifice, something unheard of ! -- and, after plenty of desperate back and forth, lenore accepted it...  but not really.  when her friend came back as a follower zombie, a la the assailants, lenore’s command -- the curse she laid upon her: stay.

1860s: the state is in upheaval, and then it’s starting to settle. lenore is in upheaval, but settle ? she’s never done that a day in her life ! so she has her very own frankenstein following her around -- only the frankenstein who didn’t travel to the arctic and learn how to read a bunch of books... i think... i’m going off of memory from eight years ago...

1870s: after nearly 30yrs of it having been published, lenore reads ‘the raven.’ and reads it again. and again. and again.  she resolves to finally release her friend and put her to rest. she gets a proper burial, and lenore leaves with nary a word. few are able to come along with such short notice.

1880s-1960s: she travels. the united states. europe. asia. oceania. zealandia. some stick around for protection and company. some leave. some die. 

1970s: she ends up in chicago, illinois. louisiana has been so industrialized and deforested, she doesn’t return. nope ! she sets her roots in chicago -- also industrialized and deforested, but she’d never seen it any other way ! she re-establishes moonscar.

1980s: she learns she’s a ‘mutant,’ a label she will not carry with her. for two centuries, she has considered herself supernatural -- something of the arts, something of folklore. it’s too late to accept this label... ew.

PRESENT: she’s continuing moonscar, finding new ‘mutants’ everywhere. she works as the bookkeeper of kinevart’s shop, panacea, to keep an income... but the wealth passed from her father... and really half of the community ! -- has yet to run out.  makin zombies <3

HEADCANONS

has so many cats, you could drown in them.

“stevie nicks stole my style :\”

struck a deal with santiago that she’ll bring him any undead who actually have even a sprinkle of autonomy -- gotta get rid of them ( but she’s keeping the follower zombies ! ). a pact has been formed between the two to not go after each others’ affiliations... even though their motives are the complete opposite of each other ( see: moonscar -- stay alive as long as possible, preferably hundreds of years ! // cult of the blessed -- fuckin die ).

always wearing a long necklace with a moon pendant. but the pendant she uses on harvest and wolf moons is a different one and changes with the phases of the moon.

pay no attention to the colors in the gifs ! the style, sure ! but the colors ? pretend they’re black... occasional gold, maybe white once a month. but that’s about it !

still doesn’t actually know that the ritual magic is a part of her mutation. ( btw, how that’s a mutation and not something supernatural is explained in her task :elmo: ) -- she just thinks the werecat part is.

on that note, still fully believes that there are some things science -- even mutations -- can’t explain. for that reason, if something parallels a creature in folklore enough, that’s what they are! for example (bc we have a lot of them rn), all undead physiologies are just zombies! 

on the topic of zombies, kinda hates them... but, yk, that goes back to everyone in the massacre having turned into one. 

^ for that same reason.... very wary of christians....

she legally changed her last name to hyphenate with her mother’s maiden name after traveling to new zealand and getting to see -- and eventually participate in -- her māori heritage. had it not been for the fact that she’s gotta :\ basically kill someone every harvest moon and fuck around during wolf moons :\ she may have stuck around longer than a few months...

year round, she has gold cat eyes, retractable claws, and sharp canine teeth -- a bit fang-like ! wolf moons and harvest moons, she’s... full werecat. fur. sharp fangs all around. tail. cat ears. etc etc etc.

CONNECTION IDEAS

the aforementioned friend !!! listen, listen... so i do have some ideas... but it would involve her being... so undead.

long-term members of moonscar !!! have been through the thick and thin ! the highs and lows ! the epic triumphs and defeats !

family !!! either part white or part māori, she’s been more ~free love, baby~ than ameline :elmo: could know, could not. could be close, could be far. we can chat !

members of moonscar !!! self-explanatory, really. best if their mutation is based on some typical halloween creature ( demons included ), but will accept whatever ! the only thing that may be iffy... is anything... undead... unless we’re talking undead as in, like, vampires. so, like... anything that could be likened to a zombie !

exes / flings / etc ! i’d make a joke about love spells, but she ain’t that desperate for anyone ! nonetheless, some exploration on this side would be fun !

little_drop_of_poison.mp3 ! lover_lies.mp3 ! it’s the vibes....

all the rest ! brainstorming is nice n fun <3

MOONSCAR

the snack-sized synopsis is on the main ! but, for a short history... moonscar began in 1814, though it would not become big or official for nearly 25yrs. when it started, it was simply the leftovers from the attack ( see: lenore and friend ) and the occasional ‘mutant’ in the wild. however, as the state began reaching turmoil, lenore and others would reach out to the othered -- not rich, not white, not christian, not fully human, and seldom a man -- and invite them to their sequestered home... so long as they would: 1) tell no one, and 2) participate in all the rituals. it was largely a place of safety, although some among them -- lenore being one -- could not continue without having to commit one atrocity or another. but they were fair. no nepotism. straw-draws only -- unless there was a volunteer. the group did not entirely disband, but it became marginally smaller when lenore left following the death of her co-founder. some followed along... some stayed... some eventually gave up...  but, in 1978, lenore and the few left landed in chicago. weary travelers, they finally decided to rest their feet and set up shop in the city -- and moonscar officially re-established itself. however, with the changing climate, it became less about protection and trust ( still a large part, yes, but... no longer as necessary as it once was ) and more about camaraderie ! some girlies ( and enbies, and the occasional fellow ) to drink a glass of wine with after going to kill someone or suck out their life force in the name of self-preservation... usually. #JustGirlyThings. in addition, because of the newfound ‘safety,’ residing in the same place was no longer needed. just show up to the coven club, perform a couple rituals, and gossip around a fire !

[surelenore-arc]

the mutant problem !

what is your ability?

werecat physiology + ritual magic

what is your government-assigned classification level?

level three

what can you do?

WERECAT ABILITIES:

retractable claws: self-explanatory. always present, unlike, say, fur. but, as mentioned, able to retract them.

transformation: able to transform into a cat-like being. she can do this by her own volition, save for each harvest moon. after completing the ritual, she’ll be in her werecat form for the next 24hrs with no way to transform back.

camouflage: due to her catlike nature, she is able to go undetected much easier than any human or mutant.

hyper climbing: able to climb literally anything with ease. completely slated rock? not a challenge!

supernatural condition: best to just refer to the page for all the supernatural condition stuffz!

predator instinct: when in werecat form, she’s always looking for prey. 

regenerative healing factor: …heals easily? what else!

RITUAL MAGIC:

semi-immortality: she’ll live forever… conditionally. see below.

ritual empowerment: this is what grants her her semi-immortality. as long as she metabolizes a soul each harvest and wolf moon, she will live on. the second she doesn’t ? her real age catches up to her :\

metabolization: every harvest + wolf moon, she has to metabolize the soul of any given person, doesn’t matter who ! they die, then resurrect. maybe she’ll send them to santi if they’re too smart and autonomous, maybe she’ll keep them if they’ll do her bidding.

purification: can purify evil to become good. a bit ironic ( though, to be fair, 85% of the atrocities she commits are in the name of self-preservation which is why her vibes are good enough that she can work with kinevart hafosdil ). 

the rest of the subpowers are pretty much what you picture when you picture the words ‘ritual magic’ ? like, she’s able to get what she wants out of ritual sacrifice and ‘spells’ that, after all of the ingredient have been collected, are activated by pheromones ( not something supernatural ). 

what can’t you do?

she can’t choose what kind of undead being her little guys will come back as… and she wishes she could ! if they could just all be the ‘follower zombies’… 

she has yet to find a way to become fully immortal. 200 years and still searching for the fountain of youth…

what are your weaknesses?

her magic won’t work – or, if nothing else, won’t be as strong – if she doesn’t have her ‘ingredients.’ 

if she doesn’t metabolize a soul every harvest and wolf moon, she’ll become mortal and her age ( see: 242 ) will catch up with her. 

she can’t control how long she’s in her werecat form for on the nights of a harvest moon.

how did you first come to the realization that you were a mutant?

she has never identified with the word ‘mutant,’ having used the word ‘supernatural’ for over 200 years before learning about her status after tests performed by james ‘starcaller’ baird. 

however, while her ritual magic had been with her for decades in her moon-obsessed community, the activation of the werecat gene did not come until… much later in life. an attack on the community for their suspicious beliefs ( …1800s deep south usa… ) led to her and another making an offering to the harvest moon in exchange for the community’s safety. a complete fluke that the secondary mutation activated then, but it did ! and they were slaughtered !

if given the choice, would you remain a mutant? why or why not?

oh, definitely. the sense of power age and… literal power gives her ? it’s addictive. not to mention, death terrifies her.

what do you hope to see change in the future, with respect to the current strife over mutant acceptance? short-term? long-term?

she’s not much of a mutant activist… like, she really couldn’t care less ! it is what it is. it’ll be what it’ll be. she’s just chilling, leading moonscar for two centuries.

[surelenore-arc]

LOTTIE MATTHEWS + OUTFITS