#PORTUM:INTRO

[blo0dpact]

         Sora  sat  at  the  bar,  INVESTIGATING  the  wine  in  front  of  her.  It's  a  dramatic  motion,  the  swirl  of  the  stem  in  her  manicured  fingers,  the  inspection  of  it,  her  nose  at  the  top  of  the  glass.  A  fermentation,  a  bitter  smell,  a  welcome  comfort.  So  far  it  seemed  that  certain  tactile  things  were  the  ones  to  make  her  more  corporeal,  pangs  of  memory  making  her  more  full.  "I  think  ...I  need  to  start  doing  tequila  shots."  The  way  it's  said  is  so  measured,  careful,  thoughtful  for  a  former  party  girl  that  used  to  do  something  like  that  out  of  pleasure.  "Or  should  I  try...gin?"  A  dramatic  look  of  disgust  colors  her  features,  she  did  NOT  want  to  try  gin.  Even  if  this  was  for  science,  for  ghost  kind.  "This  is  STRICTLY  research  so  any  suggestions  that  might  shock  my  body  back  into  existence  are  helpful.  Except  fireball.  I  think  that  might  be  my  limit."

[mystvcs]

(   danny ramirez  .  cis male  .  he/him  )       —       blasting  broken boy  by  cage the elephant  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  jaime benedicto aguilar  sporting  their  gold cross chain necklace.  the  twenty-nine  year  old  SHIFTER ( OWL )  who’s  been  in  town  for  two years  often  can  be  seen  testing out new recipes, rereading favorite books, boxing at the gym, playing the drums or soccer to relieve stress, or  working  as  a COOK at  ROSIE'S DINER.  people  say  they display protective  and  guarded  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  delicate pastries made for loved ones, mariachi music playing when you enter their home, coffee stains on a side table, everything meticulously organized, the smell of spices lingering on ones fingers, guilt weighing them down, the feeling of soaring so high nothing can touch you.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  SHINY THINGS THAT DON'T BELONG TO THEM ... BUT WILL !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?   

triggers : guns, death,

STATS:

full name: jaime benedicto aguilar nicknames: benny, ben gender: cis male pronouns: he/him sexuality: bisexual/biromatic species: owl shifter family: carmen aguilar ( mother/deceased ), arturo aguilar ( father/deceased ), eldest brother/masc ( 37 - 40 ), second oldest/femme ( 34-36 ), third oldest ( 31 - 33 ), sister/femme ( 28-29 ), youngest sister/femme ( 25 -27 ) faceclaim: danny ramirez piercings: none tattoos: dove on his left bicep other distinguishing features: gunshot wound in and out his left shoulder/wing traits: answer inspiration: jess mariano ( gilmore girls ), mako ( the legend of korra ), isaac macadoo ( ted lasso ), mark grayson ( invincible ), alex karev ( greys anatomy ), nathan scott ( one tree hill ), cesar diaz ( on my block )

BIO

one of five, benny was a different person as a kid — a happy kid. one who loved to be outside, on a field. be it football, soccer, or flying, nothing felt better than the wind on his face, the smell of grass and sweat. growing up in the busy home in boyle heights came with its challenges, though. siblings, cousins, and other shifters and supernatural beings passed through daily. it was a hub of magic, culture, and community. but amidst the noise the owling could get lost. maybe the first time was just for fun or attention. a dare from friends gone too far. but with his heightened senses, especially sight, it was easy — too easy. the wallet was in his pocket and he was out the store without raising a single suspicion. maybe stepping it up would be fun. and that was when he roped one of his sister's in — his other half. the two shifters got bolder and bolder with things they lifted, doing jobs for others. maybe he was missing shifts at the restaurant and patrol, falling behind in school, missing practices, but they were doing better than just getting by. that was how he justified it. but it was fun, and for once people were paying attention. sometimes too much attention. eventually he started getting caught; sometimes on purpose, leaving his sister out of it when he did. it was all starting to get a little out of hand, with even his sister telling him maybe they should stop, cut back. but the only voice he heard was his one of reason. they knew each other since babes, a family friend. from diapers to diapers, they would joke. idiot children that fell in love. and eventually she got through his thick head, reminding him that it could be bad if people found out about them there. there was just one more job. he didn't tell anyone about it and thought it would be fine. at first it was. he thought it was, he'd never gotten caught shifting before. why would he think this time was any different? he did a last sweep when he got home and everything was in the clear. it was a celebratory evening, a birthday. everyone they knew, all the supernatural beings that were close were there. the music was so loud no one even heard them until the first gunshot went off. benny lost his mom and high school sweetheart that night but many others were lost as well. things got worse from there. people scattered, trying to find somewhere safe to go but the shifter was full of vengeance and once things settled, he was determined to find those responsible. that back and forth of it all got messy, but he got what he wanted. and eventually fell back into old patterns again with little to hold onto anymore. he turned into someone else, with far less joy and so much anger. in and out of jail, getting into fights ... it all became pretty common until portum suddenly showed up. while the shifter is reluctant to open up, portum is the closest thing he could find to remind him of home and he doesn't want to go anywhere any time soon.

HEADCANONS

was pretty much raised in his family's restaurant where he learned to cook and grew a deep love for it.

also has a love for pastry and can spend hours making delicate things with not so delicate hands.

will sometimes get "in trouble" for altering recipes so if you go into rosie's and don't get exactly what you ordered, too bad. "it tastes better this way."

drumming and boxing are his favorite for relief but you might really see him smile outside, running around.

likes to work with his hands — building/fixing things, painting, pottery.

mind is a mess but likes things very organized.

fucking with people in owl form is a daily occurance.

don't call him jaime unless you're gonna pronounce it correctly. he will correct you and then cuss you out in spanish.

[freshcir]

( isabela merced . cis woman . she/her ) — blasting messy by lola young down main street we’ve spotted MAVI ALONSO sporting their signature wear, expression, trinket. the twenty-five year old MEDIUM who’s been in town for 1 year often can be seen over-working herself, spending time by the lake, walking her dog, or working as an PARAMEDIC at STATION 13. people say they display positive and negative traits, but we rather trust their vibes: moonlight over calming waters, the whistling sound of wind, the smell of a freshly lit candle. also, we’ve heard they love HELPING THE DECEASED MOVE ON ! aren’t they fascinating ?

basics

full name : maviela 'mavi' alonso

nicknames : mavi, mavs

age : 25 (25 physically )

birthday/zodiac : august 19th / leo

gender/pronouns : cis female / she/her

sexual orientation : bisexual

species: human (medium)

family : tba

languages : english, asl, spanish, greek

personality

bad habits … . self-blaming, holing herself up from others

hobbies … . reckless enjoyment (sometimes), working

fears … . being hated

alignment : chaotic good

behind the mask

face claim … . isabela merced

height … . 5'1"

hair color … . brown

eye color … . brown

scars … . none

about

tba

[numinovsly]

『 .·: ✘ status ✘ :·. 』 ↷ open for replies 『 .·: ✘ who for ✘ :·. 』 ↷ everyone 『 .·: ✘ location ✘ :·. 』 ↷ sidewalk near rosie's diner

this  is  the  first  time  since  grayson  had  woken  up  in  portum  a  year  ago  where  he  feels  himself  slipping.  his  mind  is  a  mess,  he's  been  shifting  in  &  out  in  a  chaotic  way,  his  body  temperature  at  an  all  time  high  which  is  causing  even  more  discomfort  —  he  looks  exhausted,  unable  to  sleep  properly  due  to  everything  going  on,  body  sore  from  the  erratic  shifting.  he  doesn't  understand  why  this  is  happening,  doesn't  know  what's  going  on  &  he  feels  incredibly  lost  in  a  place  he  normally  never  felt  lost  in. he  hadn't  slept  since  the  night  prior,  tossing  &  turning  until  he  finally  gave  up,  pulling  himself  out  of  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to  wander  around  portum  in  hopes  it  would  tire  himself  out  enough  to  finally  be  able  to  sleep.  but  it  doesn't  work,  nothing  does  &  its  beyond  infuriating  —  his  internal  rage  threatening  to  bubble  over  at  a  moment's  notice  &  everything  was  putting  him  on  edge.  but  instead  of  going  back  home  &  locking  himself  inside  until  whatever  was  going  on  passed,  he  makes  his  way  back  towards  town.  his  thoughts  were  so  loud,  his  skin  on  fire  to  the  point  it  was  almost  painful  &  he  could  barely  focus  on  the  world  around  him  but  his  feet  carried  him  in  the  direction  of  rosie's  diner,  stomach  growling  at  the  mere  thought  of  food. his  hood  is  pulled  all  the  way  over  his  eyes,  hands  shoved  into  his  pants  pockets  &  music  blasting  into  his  headphones  ...  everything  about  how  he  was  carrying  himself  showed  he  was  exhausted,  trying  to  blend  in  with  his  surroundings  so  that  hopefully no  one  pointed  out  the  bags  under  his  eyes,  or  the  heat  that  radiated  off  him  that  was  worse  than  a  furnace  —  he  should  have  been  paying  more  attention  though  because  as  he  rounds  the  corner  his  shoulder  collides  with  someone  else,  the  muscle  in  his  jaw  ticking  as  he  looked  up  from  his phone,  seeing  the  other  person  sat  on  the  sidewalk  due  to  the  collision.  normally  he'd  curse  the  person  out,  tell  them  to  be  more  careful  but  he's  too  exhausted  to  even  fight.  a  clear  indicator  that  something  is  wrong.  "sorry..."  he  mumbles  out  as  he  pushes  the  hood  of  his  hoodie  away  from  his  eyes  ever-so-slightly.  "i  shouldn't  have  been  paying  attention  to  my phone,  you  good?"  grayson  asks,  clearing  his  throat  as  his  hand  extends  towards  them.  "shit's  been  a  mess  lately....  my  brain  included."

[hehowled]

(  riz ahmed  .  trans man .  he / him   )       —       blasting  rockstar  by  nickelback  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  mutt  hollister  sporting  their  typical  white  tank  top  /  binder  combo  the   thirty  eight  year  old  werewolf  who’s  been  in  town  for  a  year  often  can  be  seen  walking  through  town  late  at  night ,  eatin'  one  too  many  muffins  from  the  sweetest  tooth,  carrying  a  suspicious  amount  of  sweets  at  any  given  time, or working as a volunteer at portum veterinary.   people  say  they  display  supportive  and  impulsive  traits, but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:   barefoot  in  the  woods,  leaving  footprints  in  the  dirt ;  a  startled  laugh  that  shakes  the  room ;  and  a  former  pageant  queen  who  hates  the  pageant  scene.  also, we've heard they love  all animals , all the time !  aren't they fascinating ? 

⸺     written  by  elliott  (  25  .  he + they  .  est   .  n/a  ) .

BASICS.   BIRTH NAME.    lea hope rockwell.  CHOSEN NAME.  mutt  hollister  GENDER.    transmasculine  PRONOUNS.   he / him.  ROMANTIC / SEXUAL ORIENTATION.   bi !  AGE.   38

BACKGROUND. 

MOTHER.   jessamine rockwell  FATHER.    unknown.  SIBLINGS.    lilian rockwell.  BIRTH ORDER.   lilian , mutt.  LANGUAGES.   english.  EDUCATION.   has his GED!   CURRENT LOCATION.    portum !

PSYCHE. 

TEMPERAMENT.    mutt is SO easygoing usually.  like,  he's not exactly the friendliest person on the planet…  but he DOES smile at people in the grocery store  –  if you catch my drift.   depending on the company that he's with he could be quiet or he could be loud…  it just depends.  despite being exceptionally smart, he's pretty sure that he's stupid.  

ADDITIONAL INFO.  just bc i like lil facts. idk if y'all do. 

is unmedicated for his depression  — though now that he's out of his mom's house it is MOSTLY just seasonal depression.   he does a lot better these days. 

he does have some anxiety that comes with social situations, but nothing he can't handle.  

his dysphoria is EXTREMELY bad though in most situations.  while he doesn't have much bottom dysphoria, he does HATE his chest with a passion and spends more time with a binder on than he should.

has dyslexia, which he didn't find out about until he was thirteen because his mom just assumed he was lying. 

struggles rEALLY bad in math? LMAO 

PHYSIQUE. 

FACE CLAIM.    riz ahmed EYE COLOR.   brown.  HAIR COLOR.   changes often , but was dark at birth. HAIR TYPE / STYLE.  short, shaggy.  straight.  HEIGHT.    5'4 DOMINANT HAND.   left MARKS / SCARS.     nothing super prominent atm.  OTHER then!!!

the mark that turned him !!! it runs the length of his left side,  the scratch is… well, it was brutal.  but !!!  it healed up relatively nice and he thinks it's kinda cool now. 

BIO / NOTES. 

mutt grew up in a small town  –  but spent a lot of time in the nearby big city because… well,  his mom was a pageant mom.  he AND his older sister participated in pageants from the time that they were infants.  lily loved them   –  mutt?  not so much. 

despite his hatred of the pageants…  he continued to participate in them up until he was around 16.  mostly because his mom was fucking CRAZY and he didn't really have a choice…   but also because it gave him something to do.  he wasn't allowed to play sports or act in drama club.  all he had was pageants  –  and the piano.  which was his talent portion that his mother had picked out for him when he was quite young. 

mutt won MANY  ,   MANY   pageants.   even more than lily did, which… lily hated.  it sparked a rivalry between them that lasted for YEARS and honestly their relationship still hasn't healed entirely.  mutt never understood why it bothered lily so bad bc it wasn't like she WASN'T winning  –  it just wasn't as often as mutt. 

mutt came out as trans at fifteen.  but his mother forcibly pushed him back into the closet and threatened severe bodily harm if he told ANYONE.  unsure if she would actually go through with it,  mutt told NO ONE ( that didn't already know. ) those that did know  – such as the few friends he had at school were quickly forced out of his life and he was left with no one. 

eventually , he fell into a shitty crowd.  like a really shitty crowd.  drugs , alcohol – the whole nine.  he was arrested for breaking and entering at 17 and sent to juvie.  he dropped out of school and pretty much gave up on life.  depression ate him alive. 

eventually , after finally just giving up on him his mother kicked him out the day he turned 18.  love that for him. 

it wasn't long before what should have been tragedy struck.   he was attacked.   almost killed  –  but at the last minute the wolf who maimed him changed his mind.  turning him, instead.   

he met his sire, and they were able to teach him what happened – why it happened.   what he was to do now.   

they helped him get an apartment, and a job and eventually he got his GED !!  

he was TERRIFIED to come out to his sire but when he did at around age 20,  they were very supportive.  all was good.  they gave him his name  –  mutt  – and bro he stuck with it.  he is no contact with his mother , and very low contact with his sister. 

mutt is absolutely in love with life,  especially now that he's in portum.   he finally feels like he has a place where he belongs.   he's so excited to get to know everyone !   

CONNECTIONS.   

TBA !  ( let's get some goin ! )

[amcbrisce]

(   eva de dominici  .  cisfemale  .  she/her   )       —       blasting  you don’t own me by  lesley gore  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  REGINA SÍVORI  sporting  their  pendent inscribed with her family’s crest on a delicate silver chain.  the  thirty-two / one hundred and ninety-eight  year  old  vampire  who’s  been  in  town  for  two years  often  can  be  seen  putting men in their place, expanding the size of her already massive wardrobe, purchasing a bouquet of the finest red roses, dancing the night away without a care in the world, strutting through town square with a purpose,  or  working  as  a/n  MANAGER  at  ENVY.  people  say  they  display  self-assured  and  devious  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  nails meticulously painted ruby red, exuding a natural confidence without cockiness, a mint-condition birkin bag with every outfit, a look that could quite literally kill.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  OLD HOLLYWOOD FILMS ! 

TRIGGER WARNING: murder, blood, death, violence

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

name: regina lenore sívori nicknames/alias: absolutely zero. don't even try.

faceclaim: eva de dominici

age: appears thirty-two, actually one hundred and eighty nine gender: cisfemale sexuality: ass is ass ( unlabled ) date/place of birth: august 1st / buenos aires, argentina currently: portum, ??? occupation: manager @ envy ( and occasional dj )

character matches: lady macbeth ( macbeth ), barbara kean ( gotham ), cheryl blossom ( riverdale ), villanelle ( killing eve ), jennifer check ( jennifer's body ), mazikeen smith ( lucifer ), niklaus mikaelson ( the vampire diaries / the originals )

positive traits: self-assured, confident, charming negative traits: devious, self-serving, calculated astrological sign: leo archetype: the femme fatale

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘.

the history books will say you were born in hell. frankly, you’d prefer it that way. however, frankly, even the historians have the possibility of being wrong. having their judgement clouded in a haze of bias. you were practically born into royalty -- argentine nobility. perhaps the closest argument one can make is that it was hellishly hot on the day you were born, that you're demonic. that's certainly not the way your parents did back in 1827. they doted on you hand and foot -- and made sure every member of the housestaff knew to do the same.

hell, your name quite literally bares the definition of queen. does that make you the queen of the damned? or goddess. that was always your preference.

for a young woman raised in traditional society, you sure know how to break the mold. cut the ties that bind. while your age in the present day has made you far more vicious, your tongue has always been sharp. you have also found that you mold with authority like oil does to water — you’ve never quite mixed. why should anyone on this universe be allowed to tell you what to do? the accusations thrown your way — spoiled brat, insolent child, are the dirt under your shoe. it’s common sense to you: as your own person, your own being, you should be in control of your own destiny.

even before your repetitive disobedience, your childhood was isolating. instead of your parents you were brought up by nannies ( whom you terrorized ), housemaids, etiquette coaches and tutors galore. your father, a well-regarded politician, was home few and far between — while your mother only rose from atop the pile of generational family money to scold you before returning to her equally wealthy friends.

by eighteen, your parents are happy to be free of you — and you of them. from birth you knew you’d always be financially protected, leaving you the room in your early adulthood to travel. for a while you find yourself in brazil — first salvador, then são paulo. you leave behind destruction and the shards of broken hearts in you wake. an enchantress, fueled by the simple power of your words. to those who are caught in them, fuck, are they powerful.

you live this rather aimless lifestyle until you reach your thirties, beginning to feel the pull to plant roots somewhere. and then, you meet him. he appears to be several years your senior, but that doesn’t stop you. you think you’re in control — and for a time, he allows you to be. however, you notice quickly that something’s wrong when you wake up beneath his silk sheets — something’s off. your hands fly to your neck as the headache takes over, which was certainly far worse than a hangover. then you feel the bite marks. and the whispers around town suddenly make a lot more sense.

there’s a vampire among us.

they found one again. a body, completely drained of it’s blood not far from the river.

but, you were not food. instead, he turned you. he saw something in you, something carnal. hungry. he believed that human life wasn’t meant for you, and he took matters into his own hands. at first — you were infuriated. life as you knew it was over. but then, an alternate feeling settled over you. wrapping you in an embrace that was equal parts freeing and unsettling. and while your life as a mortal being was over as you knew it, you felt more like yourself than you ever had in your life. the taste of blood is the closest you’ve ever come to tasting heaven.

as your sire, for a time you feel like he should be your god. and yet, in your heart — the woman you’ve always been will allow no such thing. fifty years pass — and while you look the same as you did the night he first met you, you have grown in more ways than you can ever possibly imagine. thus, when the chance comes to leave argentina for good in favor of the states — you take it. you don’t even tell him — your lover, your sire. and while you fear nothing, you can’t help but wonder the lengths he’ll go to just to find you.

when your ship docks in new york city, you feel air returning to your lungs. you give yourself some time to get your land legs back before you do what you’ve always done. you charm your way into the life you’ve always wanted. while your name is whispered throughout circles all across the city — you take great heed to not become to important. someone might suspect you, even if vampires have always been a myth. the next chapter of your life is more of the same — luxury goods, vip booths, lavish gifts. and while you ignore it’s existence, an emptiness tugs at you. for this is a life you’re living alone.

like most — you don’t remember how you got to portum. and while that knowledge is a weight that you know is your burden to bare, you plaster on a smile. make the best of it. you somehow manage to charm your way into a manager’s job despite having no experience whatsoever. confidence really is a golden trait, isn’t it? again, you establish yourself. you make a home with your infinite wealth that is entirely your own. and while mystery still clouds you, the raven-haired beauty with money practically spilling out of your ears, you’re settled now.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

a lover of a designer label. most of her closet is classic vintage — and not just because it’s a sign of her wealth. she’s always admired the way fashion has evolved, in the nearly 200 years she’s been alive.

once a party girl, always a party girl. when she’s not working, you can find her dancing on tables — the entire world watching. she’ll often also throw events at her home, with a very selective guest list.

if you’re lucky enough to get past her thick exterior, you have a protector for life. however, that’s not an easy task.

MORE TO COME.

[silkeared]

is  that CHASE SUI WONDERS  ?  no,  that’s MEI  JIǍNG,  a  TWENTY - FIVE  year  old  WITCH who  uses  SHE / HER  pronouns.  she currently  works  as  a  CLERK AT POTION & PENTACLE and  has  been  in  portum  for  THREE  YEARS.  she  loves  PHOTOGRAPHING UNSUSPECTING VICTIMS, COLLECTING RECORDS, DABBLING WITH THE DARK ARTS & EATING SOUR CANDY  and  the  character  they  identify  with  most  is  NINA ZENIK FROM THE GRISHAVERSE.

full name ⸻ MEI JIǍNG . nickname(s) ⸻ N/A . age ⸻ TWENTY5 . gender identity ⸻ CIS WOMAN . orientation ⸻ BISEXUAL . pronouns ⸻ SHE/HER . hometown ⸻ HEFEI, CHINA . current occupation ⸻ CLERK AT POTION & PENTACLE . species ⸻ WITCH . faceclaim ⸻ CHASE SUI WONDERS . influences ⸻ NINA ZENIK ( the grishaverse ) , WILL VANDOM ( w.i.t.c.h ) , MAEVE WILEY ( sex education ) .

mei  jiǎng  had  been  born,  both  literally  and  figuratively,  to  be  a  witch.  there  was  a  dark  shroud  around  her,  and  instead  of  trying  to  run  from  the  shadows  and  approach  the  light  she  held  on  tight  with  both  hands.  she  came  from  a  family  of  witches,  although  the  ins  and  outs  are  somewhat  foggy  —  all  she  remembers  is  that,  by  some  strange  twist  of  fate,  she  ended  up  in  an  orphanage  in  hefei,  surrounded  by  the  hound  dogs  and  hooligans  that  had  been  made  parentless  due  to  their  chosen  afflictions.  wolves  and  witches  walked  the  halls  in  tandem.  the  full  moon  brought  illumination  to  the  mages  and  torture  to  the  lycanthropes  ;  her  life  was  steeped  in  the  supernatural  like  a  teabag  left  too  long  at  the  bottom  of  a  mug.  there  was  a  part  of  her  that  couldn't  help  but  wonder  whether  she  had  a  hand  in  the  disappearance,  or  demise,  of  her  family.  their  fingers  felt  a  certain  tingling  whenever  she  drew  upon  the  distant  memory. 

there  was  a  plethora  of  beautiful  creatures  that  peppered  the  hefei  banners  at  times  of  celebration.  images  of  strong,  winding  dragons  that  brought  luck  and  male  prosperity.  the  virtuous  and  graceful  phoenix  with  feathers  that  crumbled  to  embers  only  to  stitch  themselves  back  together  again.  witches,  or  wu  as  she  had  been  called  up  until  her  teenage  years,  were  blessed  with  the  powers  of  divination,  and  mei  had  been  aware  of  her  abilities  since  she  was  old  enough  to  walk.  it  was  as  though  every  milestone  she  hit  came  with  an  otherworldly  counterpart.  she  would  learn  what  noise  a  cat  made  and,  seemingly  simultaneously,  work  out  how  to  bring  things  toward  her  with  a  flick  of  her  index  finger.  an  innate  skill,  something  that  moved  in  her  blood  and  exploded  within  every  cell.  

in  the  orphanage  her  powers  were  coddled  and  encouraged,  although  the  elder  witches  tried  to  redirect  her  abilities  towards  the  elements,  the  mundane  —  like  making  broomsticks  sweep  the  floors  themselves  or  curing  everyday  ailments.  that  wasn't  what  she  was  interested  in.  it  held  quite  a  heavy  stigma,  and  many  witches  strayed  from  bone-smithing  all  together,  but  mei  was  fascinated  with  the  one  thing  that  magic  seemingly  couldn't  touch.  the  dead.  when  she  wasn't  tethered,  forced  to  create  potions  that  turned  into  butterflies  or  having  to  identify  rows  of  crystals  by  touch  alone,  she  was  out  trailing  the  highways,  finding  the  poor  unfortunate  carcasses  of  roadkill  to  practise  on.  to  this  day  she  hasn't  broken  through,  hasn't  managed  to  become  the  predecessor  of  frankenstein  and  make  the  dead  rise  ;  but,  god,  are  they  close. 

when  dabbling  with  anything  forbidden,  there  comes  an  element  of  risk.  the  risk,  for  mei,  became  tangible  the  moment  her  elders  discovered  her  collection  of  pilfered  feathers.  a  jackdaws  nest.  at  nineteen  they  had  no  legal  requirement  to  keep  her  under  their  roof.  beneath  the  guise  of  wanting  mei  to  construct  her  own  life,  to  have  some  semblance  of  freedom  after  tragedy,  they  sent  her  on  her  way  —  leaving  her  on  the  streets  with  only  the  clothes  on  her  back,  a  backpack,  and  the  money  her  parents  had  left  behind  in  a  designated  bank  account.  there  had  been  whispers  of  a  sanctuary,  a  town  out  there  that  welcomed  outsiders  without  question,  that  brought  younglings  beneath  their  arms  regardless  of  their  background.  mei  soon  found  her  way  to  portum. 

she  had  grown  used  to  being  solitary,  to  flying  her  own  flag.  being  welcomed  into  portum  was  something  .  .  .  strange.  suddenly  there  were  rules  to  abide  by,  but  she  was  glad  for  the  friends  and  peers  she  had  gathered  like  familiars.  she  is  now  a  part  of  something,  but  there  are  times  where  such  support  feels  suffocating  compared  to  what  she  was  used  to  :  hiding  away  in  her  room  and  practicing  convening  with  the  spirits  without  judgement.  she  spends  her  days  selling  wares  in  potion  &  pentacle  for  something  to  do.  it  means  that  she  can  meet  others  like  her,  reunite  with  wolves,  spy  on  humanity  like  she  was  at  a  zoo.  not  standing  still,  just  lying  in  wait.

[dienoctes]

(   charlie cox  .  demi male  .  he / they  )       —       blasting  to ashes and blood  by  woodkid  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  NOLAN BURKE sporting  their  tattoo of a heart-shaped padlock.  the  thirty-nine  year  old  PHOENIX who’s  been  in  town  for  seven years  often  can  be  seen  drinking, boxing at the gym, tuning his violin but rarely using it  or  working  as  a  BAKER at  the sweetest tooth.  people  say  they  display  reliable and  self-destructive  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  a silhouette in the fire of a car crash, fists wrapped in bandages, fists caked in flour, the existential horror that exists within a cat caught in a storm, a violin solo in a dark and quiet auditorium.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  garlic bread and an affogato !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?

STATISTICS

NAME: nolan ethan burke

ALIAS: golden boy (as a boxer)

AGE & BIRTHDATE: 39, november 5th

SIGN: scorpio

GENDER & PRONOUNS: demi male, he / they

ORIENTATION: homosexual

OCCUPATION: baker at the sweetest tooth

FACECLAIM: charlie cox

INSPIRATION: terra / the lingering will (kingdom hearts: birth by sleep), evan kelmp (misfits and magic), jack murdock (daredevil), joe bonaparte (golden boy), eddie diaz (9-1-1)

BACKSTORY (tw: car accident, crime, death, mention of alcohol abuse)

nolan grew up in new york city with his dad (named tyler burke). tyler was a boxer and secretly muscle for a local crime group. his dad was an honest man that dabbled in dishonest work to make a living for him and nolan. he never wished for nolan to have to resort to the things he resorted to, and after realizing nolan had a knack for music, invested in music lessons for him alongside his education. when nolan was 11, tyler would die in a boxing match due to an “accident”.

from there, nolan stayed in foster care. he wasn't the most behaved (often got into fights) — he jumped around foster homes so much that he never really bonded with many people. it wasn't until someone actively put an effort to befriend him that he became part of a trio of friends.

for the first time nolan felt a sense of belonging. he would take a bullet for his friends and they always had his back. things were great for three full years, then his friends found homes for themselves and slowly but surely they stopped being in touch. nolan felt alone and bitter again, and he stayed in foster care until he was of age to leave.

he moved to a smaller town to take a music degree on a scholarship. while he did that, nolan also turned to participating in unlicensed and unsactioned boxing matches for quick cash (he also knew deep down that it was a way for him to take out all the anger he’d been bottling up in his life, even if it lead to injuries).

his first two years in college were essentially him debating between a fork in the road. he doesn't see a world where he can do both music and boxing, even if he did box legally. at some point he almost considered dropping his degree entirely and instead lean into underground fighting, but he couldn't. aside from his passion for it, music was the last good thing his dad lead him towards, and he feared that if he let that part go, he’d end up exactly like his father.

in the summer between his second and third year, he was found bloodied and bruised in an alleyway by a person named francis who managed to take nolan to his place and (shakily and in panic) tended to his wounds. francis was the cashier at the local cafe who arrived in town that summer.

since then, nolan would try to repay francis for that night, much to francis’ dismay. a few days after they met, nolan brought francis a six-pack of beer (francis was a recovering alcoholic), then he tried to treat francis to seafood (francis was deathly allergic), then he tried to ask nolan out to the town’s evening fair (francis was mid hook up when nolan showed up to his door to ask). even though nolan just happened to try to repay him in unfortunate circumstances, francis found it kind of endearing. soon, they started hooking up, then they started to date, then they became official. then, a few years after, they were engaged.

the years since they met were some of the happiest nolan’s ever been. it was the first time in years that he felt like he belonged somewhere, and it lasted for longer than three years. since then, nolan quit underground fighting, graduated from his music degree, and started joining different orchestras as a violinist.

then, as if the world didn’t wish for his happiness, it all started to fall apart.

eight years ago, a few months before their wedding, they were caught in a car accident. both of them died, nolan felt it. but in the fire of the crash nolan suddenly started to feel again. wreathed in flame, nolan was suddenly reborn. this wasn’t the same case for francis. suddenly, the weight of it all came crashing towards him. he was alone in the world again, and after figuring out his apparent immortality, felt like the universe made him just to be alone. while he wasn’t much of a recluse anymore (francis’ influence), he knew he could never put anyone closer than an arm’s length.

a few months after, he packed his bags and found himself in portum.

[avdaciter]

(   adria arjona  .  genderfae  .  she/they  )       —       blasting  DtMF  by  bad bunny  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  AURORA 'RORY' OTERO  sporting   self-made citric & wooden signature perfume, her favorite nirvana shirt under a leather jacket & her rebel caramel waves.  the  thirty-six (431)  year  old  GORGON  who’s  been  in  town  for  seven years  often  can  be  seen  throwing darts at the old haunt with her squad members, working out to let go of her stress, mixing scents to come up with perfumes for her loves ones, teaching self-defense classes at the community center & laughing out loud during trivia nights,  or  working  as  a  LIEUTENANT  at  STATION 13  &  OWNER of SPELL & BOURBON.  people  say  they  display  protective  and  hot-headed  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  the overachiever older sister with a hero complex, carrying the world on her shoulders and eventually crumbling only to pick herself back up again, fighting for the weaker and innocent, abusing madam duala’s herbs to try and erase a past she can’t forget, doing anything and everything she can to keep her loved ones safe.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  CHERRY-FLAVORED CANDY & PLAYING FPS GAMES !   aren’t  they  fascinating ? 

       —       possible connections: squad members / people from station 13, people she met either before or after her years of captivity (from the 80's forth), dance partners, former lovers, friends, close friends, self-defense students, favorite barista, her go-to person at madam duala's, neighbors, gym buddies.

✦      the basics ›

full name   ⋆   aurora (first name) otero (last name) lascaris (previous last name)nickname   ⋆   rory (by everyone)  age   ⋆   431  ∖  physical age   ⋆   thirty-six date of birth   ⋆   october 27th, 1594   ( scorpio sun, aquarius moon, capricorn rising ) place of birth   ⋆   puerto rico has lived in portum since   ⋆   february 2023 gender   ⋆   genderfae  ∖  pronouns   ⋆   she / they orientation   ⋆   demisexual ; demiromantic species   ⋆   gorgon piercings   ⋆   two on both ears tattoos   ⋆   some abstract lines on her wrists covering her scars hobbies   ⋆   cooking, playing FPS games (CS is her favorite) & dancing pets   ⋆   a white (superarctic leucistic) hognose snake called Luna & a long-haired baby daschund called Dina inspirations   ⋆   tbd

↺      the background ›

disclaimer — triggers for death, kidnapping, mentions of captivity, mentions of war

Aurora was born in a land almost as new as her birth, where conquerors came and went and took everything they could–including her biological mother’s life. Dead, by the hands of a cruel man who took the months-old baby to Spain with him and presented it to his wife, as the two could not have children of their own. For the next few years, she lived there, mostly sheltered from the world and society in general, raised with love and tenderness by a woman she learned to call mother. However, as the gorgon grew older and was slowly introduced to the Spanish society, her powers began showing more often, thus causing people to grow wary of her, especially her mother. The lack of guidance made young Aurora become less and less in control of them and, out of fear or out of love, her parent's most trusted maid blindfolded the child and fled in the middle of the night with her. For the second time in her life, she was taken.

For better or worse, the maid had been brought up hearing old tales of women descending from the great serpent Goddess Coatlicue. Women that could speak to serpents and turn living beings into stone. So, she hid eight-year-old Aurora and embarked on a ship towards a small land in the new world, where it was told her that a creature as powerful as Aurora lived. A place where the young gorgon was taught more lessons of love, happiness and that her powers were a blessing, not a curse. A place where she became an Otero. Not by birth, but by the love of a sweet and caring mother. And that was all she could ask for.

In her youth, and once she became more confident in her powers, the young gorgon asked for permission to travel. Memories of her old family in Spain sometimes still came back to mind, but more than that, she wanted to see the world herself. At the early age of sixtee, she thought she was old enough to travel, that she could take care of herself, Aurora told her mother. Human diseases didn’t get to her, men were too weak to touch her without her consent and with that in mind, she was back in a ship towards the old world, to see places and people she wasn't allowed to in her childhood. By the time she arrived in Spain and was able to track her old family down, they had already died. Julián Lascaro had died in one of his trips and Ynes Lascaro had succumbed to her own mind and sent to a monastery.

When visiting England was where she met the Carrasco family. They took her under her wing for some reason, and for a few years, Aurora remained by their side, learning how to act like a proper lady her age (and hating every minute of it). One reaper and one demon later, she didn’t feel like a stranger supernatural in a human's world anymore. But then, when a couple’s quarrel broke, Aurora sided with the one person she trusted the most aside from her mother and left England to travel with a friend for a few more years.

Eventually, her heart ached for home and Aurora realized it was time to return to the warmth of her mother. When she met the Otero woman again, Rory had aged. She had allowed herself to look older in order not to call attention on herself and her supernatural nature, and now, she had plenty of stories to tell her mother for the next century or so. Stories that tucked her sisters in at night in the upcoming years, with vivid details and lots of care in them. Aurora also realized that there was little that she couldn’t remember if she focused, something people would eventually call as eidetic or photographic memory, and for the years that followed, once tragedy hit her family, she wished she hadn’t been granted such a gift. 

She wished she could forget about the time the cruel men came again and destroyed her little village, they pried her and her sisters from their mother’s loving arms and for a long, long time, their powers were used to win battles that weren’t theirs. Under their control weeks became months, months became years and years became centuries. If she were counting, she would know there had been two. Two centuries. 

When the Otero siblings managed to escape, they bore more than psychological and emotional scars. Some of them had been permanently damaged and had suffered in their own way, all because of the greed of men. 

It took her more years to build herself back up. Rory pushed others away and she bottled all the pain inside. She did what she had to do to survive, and surviving meant keeping things where others couldn’t see or touch. She had kept Juni the closest, since Perri didn’t seem to want to be around, but like the stubborn gorgon that she was, Rory still tried. She pushed buttons, she pulled strings and she remained by her sisters’ sides. Through thick and thin. She couldn’t fix what had happened to her sisters, but she could try and fix her family.

Her coming to Portum had a lot to do with her sisters and little to do with herself. She needed them, and she also needed her best friend around, so, the gorgon packed her bags and found herself a nice apartment downtown. Her dire need to help others pushed her towards start working as a firefighter, eventually becoming a lieutenant, and, in order to sink her roots deeper into Portum, she bought Spell and Bourbon from the previous owner, that being her definite attachment to the supernatural haven.

[silentwastelands]

(   sabrina carpenter  .  cis woman  .  she/her  )       —       blasting  fashion after all  by  poppy  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  FIONA “FIFI” O’CLERY  sporting  their  mother’s family heirloom ⸺ an irish gaelic pendant.  the  twenty six  year  old  BANSHEE  who’s  been  in  town  for  one year  often  can  be  seen  practicing new makeup looks & sketching fashion designs, singing karaoke loudly with other former theatre kids, taking classes to learn more about her supernatural heritage & abilities, & walking around with her nose in a strange, leatherbound book,  or  working  as  a/n  MAKEUP ARTIST  at  PORTUM PERFORMING ARTS CENTER & PART TIME STUDENT.  people  say  they  display  enthusiastic  and  air-headed  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  group sleepovers & at-home spa days with friends, blonde beach waves & baby blue eyes, manicured nails tapping against a glass.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  CHERRIES & CHERRY FLAVORED / INSPIRED ITEMS,  !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?

PERSONALITY

a ditzy bimbo with no concept of when those around her don’t like her. used to being the center of attention, fifi thrives in the spotlight and creates one when there isn’t. 

STATS

Full Name: fíona ó cléirigh ( fiona o’clery ) Nickname: fifi, fi Gender & Pronouns: cis woman & she/her Sexuality: bisexual, biromantic Status: single & ready to mingle Height: 5'4”

trigger warning for mentions of parental death, arson

born with a silver spoon in one hand and love of the stage in the other, phoebe “fifi” briggs never had to worry about her parents supporting her love of theatre. they attended every show, even with their busy corporate schedules, showering her in support and praise even for the smallest of roles. this support continued throughout her life, allowing her to explore herself and different interests even if her parents were oftentimes busy and unavailable.

from her love of the stage, fifi discovered a new love: makeup. what started off as stage makeup for her school’s shows turned into a full blown fascination with special and practical effects. after graduating high school, her parents were fully supportive of her dream to pursue makeup artistry. she began furthering her studies at los angeles’ make-up designory school with a focus on multimedia make-up.

weeks before graduating her program, fifi was in the middle of studying for final exams when she blacked out. she woke hours later, finding herself barefoot running through angeles national forest. her throat burned, skin broken and bruised after being whipped by trees and abused by rocks under her feet, and she had no recollection of how she got there. she didn’t know what to make of it, she had no history of sleepwalking and as far as she knew her family didn’t, either. she kept the incident to herself, afraid of what her friends and family would think, and chalked the incident up to stress.

seven days later, she received a devastating phone call: her childhood home had burned down with her beloved parents trapped inside. her biggest supporters and her number one fans were gone in the span of an evening, leaving her alone and orphaned before her college graduation. fifi threw herself into the last portion of the semester, pushing away her feelings deep deep down so she didn’t have to process them. when she finally went back home to look through their belongings, she began to realize not everything was what they seemed. 

in the remains of her family home, fifi discovered leatherbound journals written in her mother’s handwriting, detailing a secret supernatural life she was living right under her daughter’s nose. according to her, the family were descendants of an irish banshee clan that broke off sometime in the late 1800s and have since kept a low profile. fifi felt betrayed by her mother for keeping this from her, especially when she read a passage about an experience she had that was similar to her own in the woods days before. she tried to ignore all she learned, playing it off as a strange coincidence and believing her mother was crazy. 

she began focusing on her makeup again, creating a separate social media account where she could post her digital portfolio in an attempt to gain traction and work. by posting her unconventional fashion and makeup looks, fifi soon found herself gaining a steady amount of followers. followers turned to sponsors turned to brand deals and soon fifi was able to support herself without the trust fund her parents left behind. life was finally starting to make sense again even with the loss of her mother and father.

one summer she was traveling and took a detour through the angeles national park when suddenly fog  surrounded the vehicle, so thick she could hardly see through to safely drive on the road. when the fog suddenly cleared, fifi wasn’t in california anymore. in fact, she wasn’t even sure she was in the united states anymore. now inside portum, fifi is forced to confront her supernatural heritage and uncover the mysteries her mother left behind.

connections. threads. tasks. pinterest.

[macabr3s]

(   gemma  chan  .  cis  woman  .  she/her   )     —     blasting  the  four  seasons:  winter  by  antonio  vivaldi  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  HERA  LEUNG  sporting  their  imperial  jade  ring  .  the  forty1  /  three  hundred  &  eighty5  year  old  VAMPIRE  who’s  been  in  town  for  ten  years  often  can  be  seen  coming  and  going  from  portum  ,  enjoying  a  drink  or  two  at  the  old  haunt  ,  searching  for  pieces  to  add  to  her  art  collection  ,  or  working  as  a  DIRECTOR  at  PORTUM  ART  MUSEUM  .  people  say  they  display  sophisticated  and  unyielding  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  red  bottomed  heels  clicking  against  the  pavement  ,  the  sound  of  typing  ,  a  casual  air  of  nonchalance  that  never  seems  to  go  away  ,  vintage  wines  saved  for  special  occasions  .  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  COLLECTING  VINTAGE  AND  RARE  WINES  &  LIQUORS  !  aren’t  they  fascinating  ?

[ ✰ ]  WANTED  &  ESTABLISHED  CONNECTIONS  (  WIP  ).

penned  by  HECATE  (  she/her  ,  21+  ,  pst  )

001.     ↻     BASICS  .

[  ✰  ]  full  name:  wong  mei  ling [  ✰  ]  alias/nickname(s):  hera  leung [  ✰  ]  age:  41  (  physically  ),  385  (  mentally  ) [  ✰  ]  date  of  birth:  01/16 [  ✰  ]  place  of  birth:  imperial  city,  beijing,  china [  ✰  ]  ethnicity:  chinese [  ✰  ]  nationality:  american,  british  (  formerly  ),  hong  konger  (  formerly  ),  china  (  formerly  ) [  ✰  ]  gender:  cis  woman [  ✰  ]  pronouns:  she/her [  ✰  ]  orientation:  bisexual  /  biromantic [  ✰  ]  language(s)  spoken:  mandarin,  cantonese,  english,  latin,  greek,  french [  ✰  ]  mbti:  ENTP [  ✰  ]  element:  fire [  ✰  ]  western  zodiac:  capricorn [  ✰  ]  character  inspiration:  shiv  roy  (  succession  ),  ah  toy  (  warrior  ),  blair  waldorf  (  gossip girl  ),  emma  frost  (  marvel  comics  ),  tegan  price  (  how  to  get  away  with  murder  )

002.     ↻     BACKGROUND  .

NOTE:  this  is  a  quick  summary  /  tldr  of  hera's  background  .  for  a  more  detailed  bio  ,  please  CLICK  HERE  !

(  tw:  mentions  of  death  )  hera  leung  was  born  wong  mei  ling  in  the  mid-seventeenth  century  as  the  daughter  of  an  emperor  and  his  favored  concubine  .  she’s  born  a  fiercely  resilient  figure  with  life  defined  by  ambition  ,  loss  and  in  essence  ,  transformation  .  she’s  forced  to  flee  to  hong  kong  with  her  mother  and  grew  up  in  a  world  where  power  was  everything  .  after  suffering  the  devastating  loss  of  her  loved  ones  ,  mei  ling  was  slowly  starting  to  move  on  .  she’d  unknowingly  fallen  in  love  with  a  vampire  who  eventually  transformed  her  while  she  was  on  her  deathbed  .  now  immortalized  as  hera  ,  she’s  forced  to  embrace  this  new  identity  .  she  travels  through  europe  and  ultimately  settles  in  america  where  she  makes  quite  a  name  for  herself  in  the  supernatural  community  .  and  over  centuries  ,  hera’s  experiences  have  hardened  her  .  in  her  pursuit  of  power  of  influence  ,  she’d  garnered  enemies  and  after  barely  surviving  an  ambush  ,  she  finds  herself  in  the  town  of  portum  .

003.     ↻     HEADCANONS  .

NOTE:  this  is  a  work  in  progress  so  more  will  be  added  at  a  later  time  !

established  herself  as  a  figurehead  in  san  francisco’s  supernatural  community  and  became  a  benefactor  to  various  tong  organizations  in  chinatown

went  to  college  some  point  in  the  19th  century  and  took  multiple  classes  to  get  herself  degrees  in  history  ,  chinese  literature  ,  art  history  and  anthropology

hera  still  occasionally  made  trips  back  to  china  and  hong  kong  .  at  some  point  ,  she  became  an  urban  legend  among  villages  as  a  virtuous  figure  that  helps  the  town  every  now  and  again

extensive  knowledge  of  chinese  art  and  antiquities.  probably  even  knew  some  of  the  artists  tbh  !

speaks  with  a  slight  english  accent  due  to  living  in  hong  kong  for  most  of  her  human  life  and  learning  english

prior  to  living  in  portum  was  living  in  new  york  and  posed  as  the  head  curator  at  the  met

[blo0dpact]

( moon  ga-young   .   demi-woman   .   she/they   )          —          blasting   poor  fake  by   kelsey  lu  down   main   street   we’ve   spotted   kwog  so-ra   sporting   their   leather  black  boots  with  heel  flames,  finally  able  to  make  that  familiar  clack  on  the  ground   the    twenty-nine  (thirty)   year   old   GHOST  who’s   been   in   town   for   a  year   often   can   be   seen   bothering  other  ghosts  with  absolutely  no  decorum,  sitting  in  others  people's  cars  like  an  unwanted  uber  passenger,  trying  their  best  to  get  used  to  the  idea  of  being  dead  while  liking  the  fact  that  they'll  never  age,  practicing  on  any  number  musical  instruments  of  choice  or   working   as   a   ghost  historian  at   PORTUM.   people   say   they   display   openminded  and   melodramatic  traits,   but   we   rather   trust   their   vibes: cut  up  band  t-shirts  under  a  plethora  of  otherwise  preppy  attire  with  evershifting  hair  easier  to  change  now  as  a  ghost,  equally  parts  throwing  fits  &  parties  for  attention  and  stewing  internally  &  going  to  a  rave  to  dance  it  out,  the  pulsing  the  blood,  sweat,  bass,  tears,  and  sparkles  of  the  dance  floor,  the  hourly  waves  of  realization  that  she  never  really  knew  how  much  she  loved  being  alive  until  she  was  dead.  also,   we’ve   heard   they   love   WATCHING  MECHANICS  WORK  WITH  THEIR  HANDS !    aren’t   they   fascinating  ?    

CHARACTER  PARALLELS:  Mary  (  Party  Girl  ),  Sun  Bak  (  Sense8  ),  Nico  Minoru  (  Marvel's  Runaways  ),  Trixie  Tang  (  Fairly  Odd  Parents  ),  Daphne  Kluger  (  Ocean's  8  ),  Lestat  de  Lioncourt  (  Interview  with  the  Vampire  ),  Mitsuko  Souma  (  Battle  Royale  ),  Nikki  (  It's  What's  Inside  ),  Alex  Claremont-Diaz  (  Red,  White,  and  Royal  Blue  ), Maddy Perez ( Euphoria )

PLAYLIST:  𝙞.  leave  my  body  by  florence  +  the  machine  ||   𝙞𝙞.  snake  skin  by  rina  sawayama  ||  𝙞𝙞𝙞.  a  pearl  by  mitski  ||  𝙞𝙫.  shapeshifter by lorde  ||  𝙫.  need  nothing  -  orchestral  performance  by  vérité

homophobia/queerphobia  (alluding  to  it),  childhood  neglect  tw

       Without  Bora,  there  would  be  no  Sora.  Bora  is  the  heir  and  SORA  was  the  spare.

       She  is  told  this  as  long  as  she’s  been  able  to  hear  and  for  a  while  she  doesn’t  mind  because  of  how  much  she  loves  Bora.  Sora  would  not  be  here  if  it  wasn’t  for  her  sister,  she  would  not  be  anyone  if  she  wasn’t  a  sister.  A  daughter.  A  trophy  child.  There’s  no  agency,  maybe,  but  she  gets  to  be.  Until  she  realizes  the  price  of  being  is  something  that  makes  everyone  around  her  miserable.  She  had  tried  to  take  up  less  space.  Tried  to  fit  into  the  mold,  contort  her  soul,  shrink  her  curiosity  and  be  a  Kwog.  There's  a  sense  of  power  that  she  realizes  she  has  in  making  those  around  her  miserable,  in  taking  up  the  space  they  do,  in  being  as  loudly  themselves  when  they're  a  politician's  daughter  --  meant  to  be  seen  not  heard.  To  be  a  figurine  on  the  mantel,  not  the  centerpiece.  When  Sora  realizes  she  wants  to  be  more  --  her  family  is  terrified  of  what  this  means  to  the  campaign  instead  of  what  this  means  about  their  child.  Politics  never  suited  Sora,  knowing  that  in  a  popularity  contest  she  always  came  up  short.  Second  at  best.  Never  the  most  loved  by  her  family,  never  the  most  chosen,  never  the  most  valued  or  listened  to.  Unfortunately  for  them,  this  did  not  subdue  her  into  submission  but  fortified  a  sense  of  INDIVIDUALITY.  Because  her  family  left  her  in  the  dark  where  they  put  themselves  in  the  light  —  something  s  e  p  a  r  a  t  e  from  them  grew.

         They  think  it’s  a  phase,  the  hair  cuts  and  some  dye,  the  bass  that  is  to  be  heard  at  all  hours  of  the  night  --  the  cello  left  in  the  depths  of  her  closet.  Sneaking  out  but  making  it  painfully  obvious  she  was  doing  so,  covered  in  glitter  and  coming  home  smelling  of  smoke  &  SPIRITS.  Ranting  at  the  dinner  table  about  conspiracy  theories,  ghost  stories,  rumors  about  the  supernatural  that  Sora  read  in  books,  consumed  in  TV  shows  &  movies  that  her  parents  couldn't  follow.  About  politics  they  could  never  care  about.  Later  down  the  line  when  a  tattoo  sleeve  starts  to  form,  Yijeong  has  never  been  angrier.  But  Sora?  She  feeds  off  of  it.  The  attention.  The  anger  that  he  slings  at  her  is  akin  to  the  anger  she  feels  towards  her  sister,  towards  her  familial  structure.  Her  sister,  who  was  once  her  best  friend,  barely  there  for  her  anymore  but  the  show  pony  of  the  family.  If  he  thinks  it  scares  her  (  his  disdain  )  --  it  doesn’t.  The  truth  is  that  he  doesn't  even  know  his  own  child,  he  can’t  imagine  his  second  daughter  as  anything  but  a  carbon  copy  of  her  sister.  A  product  of  him  and  his  wife.  This  becomes  a  game  to  them,  their  cruelty  matching  that  of  her  families  --  the  only  time  any  attention  is  really  thrown  their  way.  Newly eighteen,  it’s  unheard  of  for  a  Kwog  to  take  a  gap  year  --  but  she  does  going  to  Berlin. In  a  way,  her  parents  are  hoping  that  this  rebellion  will  finally  be  expelled  from  her  system  before  the  rest  of  her  life  was  mapped  out  for  her.

         The  word  ‘queer’.  Genderqueer.  Bisexual.  They’re  not  said  with  disdain,  they’re  not  said  in  hushed  whispers  and  soon  Sora  finds  out  she  is  more  than  a  sister  or  a  daughter.  While  she’s  known  she  was  so  much,  had  always  felt  deep  in  her  soul,  there  are  people  like  her.  The  misfits.  The  punks.  The  overlooked.  Outcasts.  Not  just  at  the  parties  she  would  go  to  but  living  a  life  that  is  idyllic  compared  to  the  constriction  of  her  own.  When  her  full  head  is  first  dyed  a  vibrant  pink  --  she  cries.  Something  besides  the  nuisance   she  is  develops,  a  fully  fledged  whole  person.  Not  just  a  girl,  not  just  a  boy,  not  just  the  space  in  between  (  but  in  every  space  between  )  not  just  a  specific  gender  but  she  becomes  everything  &  everyone  she  never  knew  she  could  be.  In  all  her  rebellion,  her  anger,  she  never  knew  that  this  could  be  turned  into  something  more  antidote  than  venom.  Not  consuming  to  the  point  of  ruin.  Her  anger  could  change  the  world.  Berlin  teaches  her  that  she  has  a  whole  other  facet  to  who  she  is  that  she  must  keep  to  herself.  That  she  must  nurture.  There’s  nothing  but  freedom  in  her  identity  and  it’s  for  no  one  else  but  her.  How  lucky  she  was  --  to  step  into  herself  without  the  pain  of  someone  else  overshadowing  her. 

       They're  right  in  hoping  that  something  would  make  it  out  of  her  system  --  the  need  to  rebel  to  get  their  attention  because  no  longer  does  she  care  for  it  the  way  she  did  before.  Sora  wants  to  be  someone  else,  wanting  to  BREAK  FREE  and  become  who  she  is  meant  to  become  without  their  spider  web  of  a  'safety'  net.  At  end  of  the  day  she  is  a  vain  creature  who  enjoys  the  comfort  of  her  things,  biding  her  time  as  she  plays  the  part  as  a  means  to  an  end.  To  have  her  education  paid  for,  her  lifestyle  paid  for,  her  apartment.  Until  she  falls  in  love  and  realizes  that  the  greatest  freedom  of  all  is  to  not  have  to  prove  herself  as  worthy  of  anyone's  attention.  She  spends  her  days  with  him  and  if  there  is  a  heaven,  it's  in  his  arms,  it's  in  the  spaces  they  occupy  together,  it's  in  the  arguments  and  the  making  up.  It's  the  way  in  which  she  is  chosen  by  him  that  clarifies  her  life  in  the  rearview,  that  holding  onto  a  family  that  doesn't  want  you  is  never  worth  any  of  the  security  it  provides  to  have  them  in  your  pockets.  Even  if  it  means  having  to  get  a  real  job.  The  double  life  is  almost  abandoned,  shed  like  a  snakeskin,  when  Sora  is  attacked  and  murdered  by  a  pack  of  wolves  who  did  not  seem  to  be  able  to  turn  her.  In  her  last  bits  of  life,  she  does  not  think  of  the  anger,  the  pain,  not  even  of  her  sister  --  but  of  HIM.  They  do  not  end  up  leaving  the  world;  only  leaving  their  body  behind.  How  many  times  had  Sora  already  done  that  before?  Now  it  was  just  official.  Sora  had  always  known  ghosts  were  real  --  they  can't  help  but  feel  a  sense  of  vindication  to  be  so  right  now  that  they  are  one.

       Yijeong  uses  her  death  now  to  get  a  literal  sympathy  vote  —  finally  she  is  useful  to  the  family  who  saw  her  as  more  of  a  burden  than  a  child.  Sora  does  not  go  back  to  them,  does  not  let  herself  think  of  them,  does  not  have  unfinished  business  after  having  mentally  washed  her  hands  of  them  long  before  she  was  dead.  Her  sister  &  mother  may  mourn  her  but  she  does  NOT  miss  them  in  death  the  way  she  did  in  life.  There  is  no  yearning  for  a  relationship  with  them,  the  bridge  to  her  heart  burned  with  them  once  she  crossed  over  into  death.  It  is  only  the  person  she  loves  that  she  stays  for,  the  idea  of  a  supernatural  safe  haven  in  Portum,  to  understand  what   being  a  GHOST  actually  means  and  maybe  understand  the  meaning  of  life  after  death.  There  has  been  a  freedom  in  dying  that  Sora  never  knew  to  be  possible  and  maybe  there  are  more  things  about  this  afterlife  that  she  has  yet  to  discover. 

[mystvcs]

(   kofi siriboe  .  male  .  he/him  )       —       blasting  still not a player  by  big pun  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  KAI DAVIS  sporting  their  pair of gold, engraved cuff bracelets for him and his brother.  the  thirty  year  old  mermaid  who’s  been  in  town  for  eleven years  often  can  be  seen  working out by the docks, taking long late night drives, sketching, stargazing,  or  working  as  an  OWNER  of  HALLOWED GROUNDS.  people  say  they  display  dependable  and  arrogant  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  a full toothed, dazzling grin, the refreshing feeling of when your body first hits the water, saying all the right words but only meaning half of them.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  THE SMELL OF A FRESH POT OF FRENCH PRESS COFFEE !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?   

triggers: death mention

PAST

traveling with others is always safest for merfolk. this was something that kai learned young and was something he never forgot – him and levi were inseparable anyway. lightness seems to exude from kai. sure, he come come off a bit ... full of himself, but his positivity never stays inward, with a rare bad word for anyone. he could be cruel if he wanted to be; most who'd seen what he had probably would. but he worked hard to wear walls no one would know were even there. instead kai hid behind kind words, playful flirtation, and a zest for life – for the one his brother didn't get to have. losing levi led to his life in portum – a way to escape and live in denial. or maybe one day he'll learn to work through his grief.

ABOUT

kai can come off quite a little vain, but most ( but not all ) of his conceitedness is in jest.

though he's always been a positive person, a lot of it is a mask, as he holds in a lot of guilt and grief he hasn't dealt with.

can sometimes avoid the mediums, afraid of what or who they'll see.

he has a love for art and when not being a social butterfly, enjoys drawing when on his own. it's definitely not something he does around others but has no problem letting some see finished works.

coffee was always a love of his he found above ground. he's tried coffee from all over and enjoys sharing that passion with others.

even if he can be a goof at times and come off unserious, if needed for something, he'll be there and is a very good friend to any he's close to.

[endlesswoexxx]

⤑ (  jude demorest  .  nonbinary  .  they/them  )       —      blasting cry by ashnikko  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  ELIAS ADDAMS  sporting  their  signature  tormented expression.  the  thirty year  year  old  WEREWOLF  who’s  been  in  town  for  SIX MONTHS  often  can  be  seen starting unnecessary fights, throwing the first punch, asking questions later, standing for what they believe in, defending the defenseless,  or  working  as  a  VET/OWNER at PORTUM VETERINARY.  people  say  they  display  purposeful  and  absent minded traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  never taking no for answer, flipping off the camera, going off the handles.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  BASKING IN THE MOONLIGHT !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?

𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 ➷ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➷ 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ➷ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓

➷ BASIC;

Full Name: elias addams Age: thirty Birthdate: june 12 Zodiac Sign: gemini Place of Birth: tba. Ethnicity: white Gender: nonbinary Pronouns: they/them Sexual Orientation: pansexual Occupation: Veterinarian and Owner of Portum Vet. Languages Spoken: English

➷ PHYSICAL;

Height: 5'6" Weight: 135 lbs Eyes: Blue/Gray Hair: Blonde Build: Slim/tall Tattoo: tba. Piercings: tba.

➷ HEADCANONS;

↪ Does not know when to give up a fight. Argues for a total of five seconds before they start throwing hands. ↪ Has an unhealthy love for coffee ↪ Has a new companion, a tuxedo kitten named Mochi ↪ Loves horror movies, books, and anything meant to spook ↪ Learned to cook when they was young, and over the years it's become their love language ↪ Loves any and all extreme sports/activities ↪ Can always be found in the wild - hiking, camping, snowboarding, cliff jumping, etc.

➷ BRIEF INTRO;

Born into a family of seven, Elias grew up far sooner than they needed to in order to help their struggling parents both raise and provide for their kin. While they never complained about all the work they did at home, it had become pretty evident that their help was needed to keep the family afloat.

They didn't really have much growing up. Could barely scrape by, so by the time they were twelve, Elias began packing grocery at the local corner store for a quick buck. It wasn't much, and definitely didn't get their family out of bad situations, but at least they had a roof over their heads.

Having so many young werewolves around meant that every full moon Elias and their family had to travel far into dense wooded areas in order to remain living amongst humans. They built a shelter far enough out to not give themselves away, and still have a home to come back to once the moon was gone.

Growing up, they never could afford having pets around the house, but that didn't stop Elias from learning everything they could about animals and eventually getting a job at local pet stores and animal shelters. It was the closest thing to owning one that they had.

With a new passion discovered, Elias worked hard to get an education and break the cycle. They wanted to provide their family a good and comfortable life so that they never suffered the way they did growing up.

Moving to Portum was like breathing clean air again. Elias, while they loved humans, had never felt like they belonged. Their werewolf dna burned strong and true, and they didn't want to hide it anymore. Didn't want to keep pretending like they were something they weren't, so while it pained to leave their family behind, Elias made the decision to move.

Purchasing a Veterinary clinic in town, they were able to move all their belongings and start a new life.

➷ WANTED CONNECTIONS;

Platonic.

Having only moved here about five months ago, I can assume they'd picked up a good amount of people to call friends/acquaintance. Elias is very opinionated and stands behind all their actions, but they will lead with politeness if not kindness. These could be new friendships, people they met when they first moved here, clients, coworkers, other werewolves, etc. etc. //

Familiar.

While they haven't been in town long, I can assume they've met people throughout their lifespan and perhaps ended up in the same place. We can plot this out more in dms, but muses whom they feel strongly for. //

Romantic.

Elias is out and loud. Do what they want, when they want, and with whom they want. I can assume that while they haven't had any real relationships just yet, there's been few who interest them beyond friendship. Hookups, flings, one night stands, situationships, will they won't they, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, etc. //

Antagonistic.

They will stop at nothing to get her point across and if that means throwing a hand or two, then so be it. We can come up with the dynamics of these connections in dms, but I can definitely assure that Elias has pissed off more than a few people in their brief stay. //

[numinovsly]

( trevante rhodes . cis male . he/him ) — blasting the thunderstruck by ac/dc down main street we’ve spotted BENJAMIN 'BENJI' BRIGGS sporting their devil-may-care smile. the thirty-six ( ninety-six ) year old DEMON who’s been in town for six months often can be seen driving around town late at night, eavesdropping, going to the gym, getting into heated debates, causing chaos, or working as a BARTENDER at SPELL & BOURBON. people say they display adroit and machiavellian traits, but we rather trust their vibes: unread text messages / confidence that could kill / an album of photos called ‘receipts.’ / jumping fences / crooked mirrors. also, we’ve heard they love HIS VINTAGE STOPWATCH COLLECTION ! aren’t they fascinating ?

basic information:

full name: benjamin malcom briggs.

nickname: benji, ben.

age: thirty-six. ( ninety-six )

pronouns: he / him.

sexuality: bisexual.

birthplace: brooklyn, new york.

birthday: tbd.

zodiac: tbd.

occupation: bartender @ spell & bourbon.

languages spoken: english, french, spanish.

accent: american, new york accent.

likes:

dislikes:

physical traits & appearance:

height: 6'0.

build: muscular.

hair color: black.

eye color: dark brown.

tattoos: tbd.

piercings: two in each ear lobe, one helix in right ear.

scars: most of his scars are small & came from him being rowdy as a child, they are scattered all over his arms, chest & legs. his most noticeable scar, however, is the burn scar on his left arm which he got trying to enter the building where his sister was trapped in a fire.

backstory:

tw: fire, alcohol, drug usage, death via a deal with a demon, brief mention of torture.

ah benjamin, you've gone through centuries of deceit, trauma, pain & torture. you don't remember a few of those centuries & trust me — be glad that you don't. your life was so simple when you were younger, born to two young & in love people, your grandmother watching over you and your twin as if she was your mother. your parents loved you, don't get me wrong, but they were young & incredibly full of life, wanting to chase the next best thing … they knew that was no place for a child, trusting your grandmother to keep you & your sister in line whenever they were gone. which she did, she raised you two as if you were her own children, making you both homemade meals that she swore would make you grow up to be big & strong, making sure that your life had absolutely no struggle or worries, she also made sure that you ( not so much your sister ) never got into too much trouble, always reprimanding you when you even so much as put one toe out of line. always reminding you that you were the older sibling ( even if it was only by a few minutes ) & that you needed to be a good example for your sister. you respected that though, knew that it wasn't her job to raise you, knew that she was doing everything she did for the two of you out of the kindness of her heart & you made sure your grandma would always be proud of you no matter what you did.

sure, that will to make sure you were doing everything right started to dissipate with age, wanting to roam & explore all that brooklyn had to offer you as a teenager — you'd climb out of your bedroom window at night, using the fire escape to get into the alleyway behind your grandmother's apartment & from then on? your life & the way you viewed things changed drastically. though, it was never fully in a 'bad' sense of the word. you found music, the sound echoing off the brick walls, inviting you in as if it was a warm embrace … one you welcomed with open arms. you were too young to be getting into the places you were sneaking in to, that you knew, but you were smart. you'd find nooks & crannies of the buildings to hide in, figure out how to get into the rafters or catwalks of venues even if that meant climbing up things that were absolutely not safe to be climbing on & that was how you enjoyed each genre of music your ears were so beyond blessed to hear.

your sister started to like the arts as well, but a different type than you'd found yourself in love with. painting on canvases & the walls of your childhood bedroom ( hidden by your music posters as a way to save her from getting scolded ), finding art in everything that she touched & you admired her for that. you'd always support her in everything she did, helping her find new mediums, break into art galleries in the middle of the night so that she could see pieces she wouldn't have been able to otherwise, anything & everything you could to to make sure a smile stayed on your sisters lips — you did, without a second thought and absolutely no regret. you did this for years, from your teenage years into your adult years. you lived your own life too, sure, keeping a good job with a steady income, buying your own apartment a few blocks down from your grandmothers, picking up the guitar & thankfully having people around you that taught you how to play. but even as you & your sister grew older, your support for her only grew.

that's why you're so excited when she tells you she's finally going to have her own showcase, something you'd wished for her for years & it was finally coming true. you constantly kept asking her if she needed anything, to get ahold of you & you'd be there in a heartbeat, even if it was just to bring her food as she got the room prepared for the showcase. you'd pass by the building every day, always popping your head in to check in on your little sister to make sure she was doing okay, that she had been taking care of herself as much as she was taking care of her showcase. little did you know that the night you'd decided to randomly show up with one of her favorite meals — packed tightly in a tin lunchbox you'd specifically bought for her — would be the last time night your sister was alive.

you'd rounded the corner, headed to the building just like you had a million times but freeze in place, the tin lunchbox falling out of your grasp & hitting the concrete with an almost deafening thud. all your eyes saw was the flames & black smoke pouring out of every window, the bricks underneath getting charred as the intensity grew. you don't even think before you're bolting towards the front door, the firemen unable to grab you & stop you as you bounded up the front steps — one of them finally catching you right before your feet hit the doorstep, the fire unrulely that you feel the flames hit your arm yet your focus & concern wasn't on you or the burn you'd have to nurse for months afterwards. your concern was your sister & only your sister. it takes four firemen to drag you away from the building — your voice going hoarse from screaming & cursing at them to let you go, that your sister was in that building, that she needed you. they knew it was too late, that no matter how much you fought, how many tears poured down your cheeks — your sister was already gone.

life after that went from colorful to monotone, feet dragging along the concrete every day you walked to work, your eyes never leaving the ground as you tried to deal with a grief you'd never expected to have. your grief consumes you — turns you into someone you never thought you'd become. you start drinking, start experimenting with drugs that are offered to you in back alleys or at shady parties you decided to go to because you knew there would be something to numb your pain, something to make the heaviness of your heart just a tiny bit lighter even if it was only temporary. you started getting more & more angry with the world — quitting your job on a whim because the thought of getting out of bed for a 9-5 job that only made your moral worse was enough for you to throw in the towel. your parents, god love them, did try to help you cope — but you end up screaming at them, blaming them for not raising you two, telling them that it was their fault your sister was gone, that nothing they could do now would ever bring her back. it goes on like that for a year before you pack your bags … buying a train ticket to nowhere & for what? you weren't even sure.

you end up in a small town in new york, the people there welcoming you in almost immediately but you shut them all out, keeping to yourself — sitting on your front porch in the middle of the night, staring up at the stars while you played songs on your guitar that you knew your sister loved … hoping that she could hear them. you did this for another eight months, your life becoming a predictable loop but you're so numb to everything at that point that you don't even seem to mind. your neighbor sees you out there every single night & one night she stays awake, joining you in a rocking chair as you plucked away at a heartbreaking melody. she'd asked you what had happened in your life to lose every bit of hope & joy in your eyes & you spilled everything out to her as if you had known her your entire life. you tell her about the alcohol, the drugs, the numbness you have to be in every single day in order to be able to even so much as drag yourself out of bed. you're expecting her to get up & leave, never bothering you again but she doesn't — instead she offers you something you didn't even know was possible. a way to bring your sister back.

it's three nights later when you find yourself standing at a crossroads, the lantern in your hand the only source of light in the pitch black — your neighbor appears once more, but this time she looks far different than she had the night you'd poured your heart out to her. her eyes were pitch black, voice more sinister … things you knew were a bad sign but you stood still, signing the contract in a heartbeat. your soul for your sister's life. an easy choice for you to make. but you should have trusted your instincts — should have seen through the lies before you signed on the dotted line because that demon used your grief as a golden ticket to your soul. your time on earth after that was limited, to say the least. you don't remember how you died, though you assume it was from the hellhounds that chased you down as you tried to run from your fate. the rest? decades of pitch black abyss … greeted by nothing every single day ( or so you thought ) & you had finally found the peace you'd been searching for. even if it did come in the form of selling your soul to a demon.

you thought that was the end for you but your eyes snap open one fateful night, standing alone on the same crossroads you'd gone to in order to make the deal — but things felt different … you felt stronger — invincible even. that's when you hear your neighbor's voice once more, welcoming you to an entirely new world. that you had been drug to the depths of hell & tortured beyond anything you could even imagine but that you'd clawed your way back out of it only to become a demon yourself. you use this to your advantage, using the fact that you could possess anyone whenever you wanted as another way to escape your own reality — using these helpless vessels to do the impulsive, reckless & dangerous things you'd wanted to do for centuries & honestly ? you liked that power, fed off of it. you started to use people's grief & sadness against them, getting them to sign their souls over to you — each time causing you to feel more & more invincible, more & more powerful as if nothing on earth could touch you.

you'd thought you'd roped another innocent person into giving you their soul when everything goes black once more — your eyes opening again to find yourself somewhere new entirely. it wasn't a crossroad or anything like that, but a town full of people. you'd thought you'd hit the jackpot there, hoping to be able to find gullible souls in portum to use & manipulate but you come to find that task has become far harder due to the fact that everyone that resided in portum had some sort of supernatural abilities — even finding other demons living among everyone else. it pisses you off at first, trying to cause chaos & mischief at every turn, failing more times than you succeed & after what felt like the millionth time of your plans backfiring in your face you decided to stop trying — for the most part. you'd found a job as a bartender, telling yourself that maybe your life didn't have to be nothing but manipulation, tricks & possession … that maybe you could actually make yourself a new home here.

wanted connections

coming soon, my brain is currently fried :(

[salvations]

(   laura  harrier  .  cis  woman  .  she  +  her  )       —       blasting  mariella  by  leon  bridges,  khruangbin  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  MARIELLA  PATTON  sporting  their  dark  red-wine  manicure.  the  thirty-one  year  old  VAMPIRE  who’s  been  in  town  for  a  month  often  can  be  seen  meticulously  curating  her  wardrobe,  plastering  on  a  sickly-sweet  smile  that  is  all  too  inauthentic,  skipping  out  on  her  shift  to idle around at home or  working  as  a/n  SECRETARY  at  PORTUM  ART  MUSEUM.  people  say  they  display  self-assured  and  haughty  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  a  quiet,  unnerving  temper  simmering  beneath  honeyed  words  ;  arrogance  worn  as  obnoxiously  as  her expensive  designer  perfume  ;  braving  new  and  uncharted  territories  bordering  life  and  death

basics.

full name: victoria mariella patton

nickname: em, mari

age & date of birth: thirty-one & june 23rd, 1993

species: vampire (turned in the summer of 2024)

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she + her

orientation: biromantic, bisexual

occupation: secretary @ portum art museum

hometown: fort worth, texas

background.

tw: alcohol abuse, blood, murder

mariella’s life didn’t begin until she moved out of texas. what’s eighteen years compared to the next hundred she’s to spend walking the earth as an immortal bloodsucker? regardless of what everyone says, she’s more than the spoiled brat with the best silver spoons that grandpa’s shipping empire could buy. mariella patton would be a name worth remembering–she hungered for greatness. 

she struggled on her way into an ivy league (with a generous donation to her father’s alma mater), built a life for herself in los angeles (through her mother’s weekly allowances), and clawed her way up the corporate ladder at a prestigious investment firm (nepotism goes a long way).

but, she still got there, didn’t she? no matter how many times they’d tried to trip her up and despite how many looks she got solely by being in the room, mariella had made a name for herself that was entirely her own doing. it could have come easy, money and charm seemed the natural default, but she finally had something she built for the first time in her life.

maybe that’s why that made their betrayal that much worse. mariella had worked alongside them since the pair were nothing more than slop at the bottom of the food chain. every paycheque, every late-night project, every presentation–they had survived the storm together and then some. 

a bit of friendly competition was healthy, but there were unspoken lines that mariella knew better than to cross. not to them, apparently. they’d stolen an important contract, ripping the rug from mariella, and costing her a promotion she was promised. 

that particular night was blurry, one too many shots working through her system as she tried to drink the day away. the man from across the bar had appeared out of thin air, sharply dressed and alluring as ever. she complained about what they’d done until the last call and when he offered an opportunity to make her little problem disappear, she was just desperate enough to consider it. mariella had made a living on brokering shady deals–what was one more? 

she woke up in a daze. that much was expected after the night she had. the strange cravings, on the other hand? it was unlike anything she had felt before. nothing would satisfy mariella until she found herself at their door. 

the events that followed had been difficult to remember. all she wanted was to quiet the hunger. it hadn’t been nearly enough.

she returned to work, disheveled and disoriented, but feigning normalcy. their roommate came home to their body. “a horrific crime scene akin to an animal attack,” the reports said. 

all she had to do was lay low, but her appetite was insatiable. mariella had cornered her boss at the parking garage. authorities found the body pale and lifeless in the car, drained of every drop.

a week followed and she could sense them closing in on her. investigators were scouring the security tapes for a suspect and the figure that trailed her boss fit mariella's description far too well. she considered finding the man that did this to her, but what good would that monster do? she should have stayed away in the first place.

eventually, she packed up what she could and left los angeles. she drove for miles, stopping at seedy motels and pit stops, towards texas. the hunger was deafening now.

as she neared her hometown, a part of her hesitated. what did she have there after all those years? no, they could do nothing to sate her hunger even now. mariella found a taste for greatness and it would not be found in fort worth with her tail tucked between her legs. 

she drove on and stumbled upon portum in the process. though she hasn’t been there long, she hopes to find some answers about her new nature. it’s been quite the adjustment, a far cry from skyscrapers and stalled traffic lanes, but not an entirely terrible place to spend walking the earth as an immortal bloodsucker.

fun facts.

while some vampires have lost their appetite for human food, mariella still maintains a lingering craving for it–particularly caffeine. it changes as the days go on, but she likes to keep it close as a means to hold on to her old life and humanity. still, she ignores that the taste grows bitter with each passing day—that her appetite hungers for something else. 

doesn’t have a noticeable southern accent. she might be from texas, but she’s shed that part of her life a long time ago.

mariella is pristine and hates to see a thing out of place, but covering up her tracks is not a strong suit. where she goes, a body count will follow. too bad she still hasn’t learned to clean up after herself.

hates her job (who doesn’t?) and will not show up to work lol she is not built for menial labour.