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[crimsonxserpent]

There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw.

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles.  (via gaugua)

[crimsonxserpent]

thomas-faust‌:

WITH a heavy exhale he took another sip from the whiskey. It was like a game of cat and mouse, no one wanted to lose. Her entire presence caused his body to stiffen as if ready for a fight. In fact Thomas had been more relaxed in fights than he was around the female that sat next to him. It was the sensation of never knowing what was going to happen next. He took pride in the fact that he could read a room in a second, but with her his instincts were completely thrown off - something that made him uneasy. 

As painful as they were, the words she spoke were expected. His grip around his glass tightened, almost breaking it before he let go. The memory of his ex lover, who died before he could even wed her brought a lot of suffering to Thomas’ life. It was followed by the loss of his child, who he still hadn’t seen. ❝ She was never my wife, sweetheart. ❞ A painful reminder, but an important one. His eyes became dull for a few moments, almost showing a sense of sadness. 

He let his eyes roll to show his complete disgust with her. The only thing he was possessive over was money. ❝ You’re always wasting your time with me. ❞ It was partially true, they were born to hate each other, every interaction they had was a waste of time in Thomas’ mind, but he just couldn’t stay away. ❝ If you cared all that much, you wouldn’t have stayed this long. And I’m not sure when I’m leaving. ❞ No matter how close they got, he was never going to reveal too much to her. 

“Oh, come on baby, relax.”, the words had a mischievous edge to them, after all, Diana had always had a way of speaking that meant something she said was never just that, never as simple as it appeared to be. “I’m just playing. Don’t tell me you’re losing your edge as years go by?”, she let out a soft chuckle, “Now that would be such a shame.” Truth be told, she found comfort in these little acts - it was like an armour of saccharine words and sly smiles and vague movements of her body. And one had to have an armour when playing against a man as dangerous as Thomas was. 

“Oh well, marriage’s overrated.”, it wasn’t really. She could still remember the way she felt that day - top of the world, high on power and infatuation, it felt like there was no end in sight. They were going to watch the world burn together, and the match had just been lit, the air quivering with promises of disasters to come. She stared at the glowing red tip of her cigarette, eyes cold and distant, and even the sound of her chuckle grew glacial and detached, “Oh well, we’ll always have alcohol and guns, that’ll have to do.”

“No need to be so fatalistic dear.”, it wasn’t like Diana ever had any illusions about what this was exactly - a thing of hatred and anger and everything dark that resided in her soul, manifesting itself in violent, unrestrained ways - but that hardly made it any less fun. “I prefer to think of it as an investment. Helps with the focus.” Nothing like hate-fucking your way out of pent-up anger. “You’re right, life’s a lot easier when you care about so little. Besides, who even knows what my motives are?”, she finished her drink, “You sound like a homesick man, so I’m thinking we’ll see about that.” 

[crimsonxserpent]

laurencespvkcs‌:

The cool crystal glass kept emptying quicker than he’d wanted, brows furrowing in time as he looked down with a pout of his bottom lip. How many was that now? Had he lost count? The room hadn’t yet started shifting, and he hadn’t managed to start any fights as of yet. So it couldn’t have been that bad, right? The glass was always filled with his favorite; Macallan Whiskey. It wasn’t an acquired taste like most hued liquids that passed the lips in this place. It was a whiskey that turned heads, tasted like heaven with each sip and something he couldn’t live without.

Laurence took a brief second to peer down, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’d held it’s place in his large hand for some time as the dimmed music seemingly brushed along in the distance. His feet had took him in a different direction, knowing that the party was becoming too raucous for his taste on this particular evening. Laurence had managed to find peace at last; a cool breeze could be felt against his skin, shuddering for just a second before he settled his eyes on the view before him. It was a beauty; he thought for a moment before the sinister laughter fell from him so easily. 

‘‘Painted in red. It would look so much better.’‘ He muttered to himself, almost inaudible. He’d need another drink soon, he noted with a nod of his head. He didn’t see them, but he heard the shuffling behind his back; the city lights spread across before them as he smiled. 

‘‘You’d be a crappy assassin.’‘ He added with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘‘I could hear you minutes before you even got here. I could also smell you.’‘ He smirked; a talent that he hoped he never lost, it was a distinguishing feature, wasn’t it? The smell of someone.

He finally turned around with his hands held out either side of him.

She was thankful for the anonymity the crowd offered as she slipped between bodies heated from conversation and dancing and outrageous flirting, keeping her head low so that locks of her hair would shield her face from any curious glances. She adapted this newfound anonymity with the intention of slipping through the cracks and lighting a cigarette outside, blissfully devoid of mindless chatter or some pretty young thing whispering stupid shit into her ear. 

But to be entirely truthful, it was in the grandeur and the opulence that Diana usually found herself really thriving. She had never been one to shy away from the attention she attracted - first as the golden child, side by side with her twin, and later on as Victor’s wife, cutthroat and charming. She was born into the world that was built on a society such as this one - on parties and murder and soft-spoken threats uttered over glasses of expensive whiskey, and things that made someone else nervous, fed into her sense of excitement instead, reminded her of where she came from. But really, when did the music stop being music and turned into... whatever that was. She really needed that smoke. 

“One day Hasgard, you’re going to choke on that ego of yours.”, she chuckled with the ease of a woman who was hardly affected by the words, closing the doors behind her as she let the cool air wash over her skin, “And darling, even then I’ll still be your superior.” An amused smile was tethering in the corners of her lips as she finally moved across the balcony, a case of black Sobranie in her hand - after all, if one had to destroy themselves, Diana was a firm believer in doing it with style. Expensive style. “Would you stop smelling me? It’s Chanel 5, not that uncommon even in this god-forsaken city.” It wasn’t that she disliked Chicago, au contraire, but she did think spilling blood in Paris had a better ring to it, it certainly was more fashionable. She leaned against the cold railing, turning her head to look at him and raising her eyebrow, amused, “What’s with the theatrics tonight mon cher? Don’t tell me you’re losing your edge, and I was just getting intrigued.”

[crimsonxserpent]

Batman Returns (1992) dir. Tim Burton

[crimsonxserpent]

sex+romance headcanons!

Send me a symbol. Please note that some answers may be NSFW.

🌟 What is my muse’s sexual/romantic orientation? 💦 At what age did my muse lose their virginity? 😘 Would my muse have sex on the first date? 😊 Would my muse ever ask someone on a date? 👍 Does my muse prefer to be asked on a date, or would they rather do the asking? 😉 What are my muse’s fetishes/kinks? 💬 When did my muse go on their first date? 💯 What is my muse’s ideal date? 💗 Has my muse ever been in love? 👠 What was my muse’s last serious relationship like? 👰 Would my muse ever get married? 🌼 Would my muse prefer a big wedding or a small wedding? 🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch? 🏩 What was my muse’s first time like? 🎆 Is my muse into monogamy? 💕 Would my muse ever be in a polyamorous relationship? 🔥 Would my muse ever be up for a threesome? 👮 Has my muse ever had sex in public? 💔 What was my muse’s first heartbreak? 💑 What are my muse’s requirements for a potential partner? 💋 How many people has my muse slept with? 👀 Is my muse the type to sleep around? 👎 Would my muse ever cheat on their partner? 😳 What was my muse’s worst romantic/sexual relationship? 💲Would my muse ever date/marry/sleep with someone because they were rich? 👓 Would my muse ever lie for sex? 👿 Would my muse ever blackmail someone into sex? 🎥 Who is my muse’s celebrity crush? 🎀 Who would my muse sleep with if nobody ever had to know? 💍 Has my muse ever had a one-night stand? 💝 Does my muse like Valentine’s Day? 💘 What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

[crimsonxserpent]

thomas-faust‌:

THERE were very few things in the world that irritated Thomas, he had trained himself to be in complete control of his emotions at all times. But there weren’t that many emotions to begin with. He started off just like any normal man, but the longer he was in the industry, the more it slowly chipped away at whatever normal emotions he had left. There wasn’t time for emotion, time for anger or pain, but when it came to Diana, there was certainly something there. 

It was as if every word she spoke were harsh daggers, piercing his skin at breath. ❝ I wouldn’t be getting ahead of myself, if I were you ❞ he replied, an exhale clouded with grey smoke. A ghost of a smirk perched itself on his slightly chapped lips, ❝ It isn’t the thoughts that are dangerous, it’s you. ❞ In his eyes, she was a concoction of a poisonous drug, that he just couldn’t get away from.

❝ I’m sorry I didn’t end up like your husbands ❞ he replied through gritted teeth, her presence becoming more and more intoxicating, but not in the good way.  Thomas had chosen the Devil’s path a long time ago, and he was the biggest sinner of them all. Maybe that was why he could never tear himself away from her. Almost instantly, his hand reached for her’s, gripping incredibly tightly,  but that was intent of course, he pushed it away. ❝ And I know, there’s no other man you love to loathe more than me. ❞

He smirked. It was a weak twitch in the corners of his lips that only required minimal work of muscles, and that would’ve gone unnoticed had anyone else been sitting across the table from him - but Diana wasn’t anyone else, and she’d been paying attention. A languid, feline smile stretched across her lips at his words, “You flatter me. That’s not fair, you know how vain I can be.” And for once, she was telling the truth - after all, she’d designed herself to be dangerous, to look dangerous - all sharp lines, and clean-cut dresses and a red lipstick. 

If his words did leave her unnerved, she tried not to show it, choosing instead to not allow her emotions to control her, because this was a game, and she was awful at losing. Only emotion that might have sneaked through her iron clad defences was the slight vexation, a certain bitter aftertaste those memories inevitably entailed. The tip of her cigarette burned brightly when she took a drag, and the smoke was stark against her lips as she chuckled, “What, like your wife?”, a low blow, but in her defence, he was the first to pull the trigger, “Besides, it was just the one. The other one I fucked because I liked it when he played rough.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she knew well it’d do wonders for his imagination. 

When he’d grabbed her hand, the fine bones grinding against each other and stark pain shooting up her arm, she let out a soft sound, something between an exhale and a breathy chuckle. Really, she should’ve reconsidered why she liked the pain so much. “Ah you boys, always so damn possessive.”. The distance between them yawned in sudden, dizzying space, inviting and promising trouble - and then he let go. Diana shifted in her spot to reach for the alcohol, mostly just to get away and clear her thoughts before she did something stupid again, “So tell me darling, you back for good, or am I wasting my time here?”

[crimsonxserpent]

alexocado:

my interests include rough sex and compassion for animals

[crimsonxserpent]

xcurscd‌:

          HE TAKES THE HANDKERCHIEF & presses it against his nose to stop the bleeding. his eyes look to the dead corpse before they revert back to her.     “ i was getting the job done, didn’t think about my surroundings. ”     he says as he steps right over the body & follows her silently. he may be sloppy at his work, but at least he gets it done.     “ am i going to get paid for this or am i in trouble ? ”     he asks tossing the handkerchief to the ground. 

“Well... An interesting method that’s for sure. But I guess you do seem rather young.”, she threw one last look at the corpse, then decided moving or hiding it was worth neither the effort nor the trouble of ruining her dress. “Sure, but that’s just because I like your style kid - you don’t seem the squeamish type.”, as they were headed down a dark alley, Diana reached into her purse for the money, handing him the cash as she lit a cigarette, “Aren’t you supposed to be out there pushing product, or is this just a new hobby? I don’t remember training you, did you work with another general?”

[crimsonxserpent]

thomas-faust‌:

HIS body recognised the voice before he did, he shuddered in response, immediately feeling an uneasiness settling in his stomach. If there was one person whom he loved to hate, it was her. He almost found it amusing that the one person he really didn’t want to see just happened to be in the same bar as him, at the same time. It was as if God was laughing down at him, more than he already had been. Not that Thomas would believe in such a thing. He had played with death too many times to believe in such a thing.

Thomas’ gaze now moved to settle on her. It was as if she was a siren, calling him out to sea, a temptress of sorts. A stern look crossed his features as he stared harshly at her. He took a much needed sip from his drink, taking a moment as he felt the burn warm his throat. ❝ I hoped I wouldn’t see you. ❞ That was true, or at least part of it was. 

The other side of him, the more animalistic side, was hungry for her. He could feel the lust boiling through his veins, something that he had tried so hard in the past to ignore, but of course he never could. She was a sort of weakness for him. ❝ Surprised to see me? ❞ he asked, a sharpness to his voice as he finished off his drink with one large gulp.

She could see the change in his countenance and the set of his shoulders when he heard her lazy, teasing drawl, and something within her shifted at that reaction - some part of her that thrived on getting reactions out of people, especially if they weren’t prone to being unsettled. It would be deceitful of her to claim there wasn’t a part of her that was thoroughly enjoying the illicit excitement his presence offered, but she wasn’t about to let it show - no, where would be the fun in that? 

“Well, you know what they say about hope - breeds eternal misery. And who exactly are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”, a soft chuckle left her lips as she took a drag from her cigarette, her gaze unflinching when she looked back at him and smiled - all red lips and saccharine promises and bad intentions, “Though I’m more interested in the fact you were thinking about me at all.”, she tutted softly, shooting a smile in the bartender’s direction to get them both another glass of their poison of choice, “I don’t blame you, but those are some dangerous thoughts darling, I thought you knew better.” 

This was a dangerous game, a volatile combination - but that was what made it fun - and Diana couldn’t help but be drawn into the storm that was Thomas, after all her entire existence revolved around destruction - of things, people, herself. “Actually, yes I am. Thought you were five feet under somewhere, I must admit I mourned the fact someone stole the pleasure of putting you there myself eventually.” She reached out shamelessly, to adjust the edge of his collar - not that there was anything wrong with it, she just liked invading his personal space, it felt like reaching into the flames, and she wanted to burn, “Can’t say I haven’t missed you - the world gets terribly boring for a girl when there’s a chronic lack of men to loathe.”

[crimsonxserpent]

xcurscd‌:

          “ looks worse than it feels. ”     JD says with blood pouring down his lips & chin as the dead corpse lays below his feet.      “ can i get my two hundred bucks now ? ”

“Oh well, isn’t that a shame? I hoped the pain might teach you a lesson.”, Diana’s eyes scoured the body on the ground, all blood and broken skin, a nameless creature whom she didn’t intend or care to identify. She looked up then, a slight twist of distaste forming in the corners of her lips as she reached for her purse to give him a handkerchief, “God what a fucking mess. Remind me honey, what the fuck were you thinking leaving dead bodies around like this?” Diana was hardly one to mind the gore, au contraire - but what did interest her was why their drug traffickers were murdering people around for money. “Come, we need to get away from here, I’ve heard it’s not a great idea to be seen next to corpses.” 

[crimsonxserpent]

thomas-faust‌:

A CIGARETTE was held delicately between the male’s fingers as he exhaled a sigh full of smoke. He had promised himself that he would never step foot in this town, yet here he was, sat in a bar with a hand tightly gripped around a glass of whiskey. It had been just as easy to sneak back into town as it had been to sneak out. He hadn’t spoken to his family in years, and quite frankly he wanted to keep it that way. As much as he cared for them deeply, he knew by talking to them would only create more danger. He would have stayed far away if he hadn’t heard the news of his nephew, it had almost stopped him in his tracks. Now he was out for blood, specifically anyone who belonged to the family that he had been designed to hate. 

He finished his whiskey with one more sip, nearly slamming his glass down on the table as his eyes darted around the dimly lit bar. His jaw clenched, he knew how unwelcome he was in Chicago, and any minute now someone could recognise him. He pulled his hat down to hide his eyes, he was after all, trying to keep a low profile. 

He had only noticed the person sitting next to him when he had bought himself another drink. His gaze drifted momentarily to the person before staring right ahead.  ❝ what the fuck do you think you’re looking at? ❞ he spat, maybe he was a little too paranoid.>

She lingered in a dimly lit corner of the bar, where the air hung heavy and stale, laced with that strange mixture of scents - tobacco and alcohol and late-night desperation. Hidden between the shadows and behind a veil of smoke, she was a still, strange fixture - a bit at odds with her surroundings, but nevertheless this particular spot offered her the desired anonymity. Not that she was a woman accustomed to anonymity by any means, but she’d decided to make an exception today - better not spook the prey before it even got the chance to order a drink. The man she was expecting owed her an explanation for a black-market trade gone awry. Except he never arrived. The man that did walk through that door though, offered a more than satisfying alternative, and Diana shifted in her spot like a hungry predator watching the prey go by. And what a prey it was. She finished her drink in one fluid slip, a flick of the wrist, glass left empty on the table - and moved towards the bar, slinking between the tables and the people until she found her spot right next to him. Perched perilously at the edge of her seat she reached for the cigarettes. Click. Flame. Click. She felt him notice her as she drew in a deep breath, letting the acrid scent to overtake her senses, fill her lungs. “Well won’t you just look at what the cat dragged in?”, smoke curled and twisted from her lips as she spoke, and her pale eyes traced the line of his clenched jaw, half-hidden beneath the shadows of his hat, “Now now, darling, there’s not need to be so rude, it’s entirely unbecoming.” Her smile was a sharp thing, all edges and a promise of trouble and she directed her attention to the black cigarette held loosely between her fingers with disinterest of a woman who lacked a sense self-preservation, and didn’t care to obtain one either. “What I think I’m looking at is a man trying to stay unnoticed. It’s a charming attempt at anonymity, truly - but, mon cher, you think the hat’s going to do it? Really? You’re hardly an unnoticeable creature.”

[crimsonxserpent]

( Katie McGrath, 34, cisfemale, she/her ) Was that DIANA SINCLAIR ? I heard a rumor they work for the O’SHEA family, but who knows for sure ? they can be a bit VINDICTIVE  &  HEDONISTIC, but I also heard they can be CARING & PRAGMATIC. you’ll usually find them at SKYFALL in their spare time, when they’re not being a GENERAL. you may want to keep an eye on that one !

hi it is i, claire again (she/her, GMT+2) i present to you the second of my bbies, the myth, the legend, a bitch by the name Diana Sinclair (shh that’s not her real name). anyway she’s an old kid of mine that I’ve had for 5 years so i have a lot of thoughts on her, and if you want me to throw her at you leave a  ❤ (i love her so much but i promise i’ll contain myself) 

pinterest page STATS: ➤  NAME: Diana Odette Sinclair ➤  REAL NAME: Anastasiya Spasskaya ➤  AGE: 34 ➤  DOB: 3rd of January ➤  BORN: Sankt Petersburg, Russia Paris, France ➤  HEIGHT: 5′5′’ ➤  SIBLINGS: a twin brother (Evgeny Spassky)  ➤  MBTI: ENTJ ➤  ORIENTATION: bisexual ➤  OCCUPATION: art thief/forger, general for the O’Shea ➤  EDUCATION: bachelor’s degree in fine arts, finance  ➤  TATTOOS: yes, a rose with thorns medially from her hip  ➤  SCARS: yes, various ➤  AESTHETICS: chanel and dior and agent provocateur, goes nowhere without her jimmy choos, blood-red lipstick and nails to match, diamonds are a girl’s best friend, classic aston martin DB5, a gun strapped to her thigh, and knives in various places, sly words and a sharp smile, ‘mon cheri and darling’ thrown in when she’s talking, black sobranie and an old silver lighter ➤  VICES: tobacco, alcohol, sex ➤  PETS: yes, an akhal-teke mare named Duchess and a border collie named Nyx

HISTORY: 

➤  They were called the golden twins, as children so alike each other you could barely tell them apart, and always together, two of them against the world. Born two minutes prior to her brother, Anastasiya Spasskaya was the eldest child, and perhaps it was fated from the moment of her birth, that her life would never be normal. Spoiled to the excess, as the daughter of a Russian mobster masquerading as an oligarch in oil trade, the world Anastasiya was raised in alongside her twin was as far from ‘real’ as one could get. It was all opulence, luxury and extravagance, and yet in its core it was as limiting as a prison cell. Born in this world of violence, from the moment they were conceived, the twins had a target painted squarely on their backs. Two innocents born into the life of savagery, Anastasiya and Evgeny never knew the world outside the violence and opulence that surrounded them, and this was perhaps exactly what eventually made them more savage than the world they were born into.  ➤  Fearful that their enemies might find their children and use them as leverage, the moment a threat was uttered against the twins’ life when they were still infants, Alina and Alexander Spassky bought a deed to an estate near Sochi and rarely allowed them to leave it. A gated mansion only Alexander held keys to, the 97 acre estate held everything imaginable required for human happiness. A place large enough for the twins to get lost in, by accident or by resolve, and daunting enough for them to never want to leave it, it was the only place they ever called home. ➤  Besides, the two were given everything they needed, and more – caretakers, toys, private tutors, chefs, horses and abundance of clothes, everything except motherly love. Cold and distant, Alina was as rotten on the inside as she was fair on the outside – a former Bolshoi ballerina, she never harbored much maternal instinct. But what their mother lacked in fondness, their father made up for every chance he got, spoiling his little angels to no end, especially Anastasiya in whose fire he saw his true heir. Their parents were rarely home however, spending weeks – sometimes months – away in Moscow and Sankt-Petersburg. Devoid of love and in absence of their parents, the twins learned to always rely on each other, and the love they shared was the only love they ever knew.  ➤  Anastasiya was seven when she first witnessed a man being killed. Though such appalling scene might have scarred anyone, by the time Anastasiya was ten, she was completely desensitized to the violence and treachery of her father’s mob that it became simply another aspect of everyday life. Her father had killed, had tortured, had maimed and yet this fact never quite phased her, she would just whisper about it to Evgeny as if it excited her to see their usual routine interrupted by something, even if that something was painted red with blood. They were honed and perfect the way one would prepare a weapon, to one day become the heirs, and it felt like the world was theirs to conquer. ➤  Little did they know than in a matter of a years this illusion would be shattered into a million pieces, and that their inevitable fall from grace was fast approaching. And what a fall it was. It was their mother - their seemingly disinterested mother - who took away the one parent they cared for, committing the betrayal none of them saw coming, and one she would pay for just like Anastasiya promised. It was then that Anastasiya realised she was capable of committing monstrous crimes just to keep her brother safe, to keep them both safe. But would it be enough?  ➤  The answer came soon enough in a form of her brother’s blood, drenching her hands as she knelt beside his lifeless body. While Anastasiya managed to overthrow the apparatus her mother instated after her husband’s untimely death, partly with her own two hands and partly through a loyal apparatus of her own - dangers still lurked in the shadows, too many to keep track of for a 19 year old girl, too many to stop when they decided to kill her brother.  ➤  She left Moscow then - and she hasn’t looked back ever since. There was nothing left there that she cared for, their legacy was nothing without her father and brother. She followed the instructions her father had left her in case the empire fell apart and the two of them had to escape, and she followed them all the way to Paris, a beautiful white house in Trocadéro. A man awaited her there – somehow he knew she was coming long before even she did – a man, she would learn, whose name was a thing of shadows, deep depraved corners of the criminal world. She’d expected him to be a force to be reckoned with in his own right, but she’d never expected him to be so young and handsome and charming. He was barely 26, pulling the strings from the shadows, his presence a perilous, alluring thing - how could she resist, she was enthralled.  ➤  He taught her how you could trade names and secrets instead of weapons and oil, how art was where the money was at, how one could kill for the pleasure of it. She became his protege, his assassin, and finally his wife. It was a turbulent relationship, one could not call it love per se, but a mutual obsession. She was young and fascinated, and he was brilliant and unpredictable. And so was his death.  ➤  She never saw it coming - although in retrospective, she should have. He was unstable, a price one had to pay for the genius he possessed. He’d decided he’d won the game, conquered what he wanted, that a gun to his head was one final, ultimate check mate to his opponents. He never cared about how shattered it would leave her, how empty she would feel without him, how she was losing yet another man she loved. And as she held his body and blood painted the snow red, she decided she had to go - where? She had no idea. What was there left for her to do, but do the one thing she was good at - murder and theft.  ➤  And so she picked Chicago - a city large enough to offer her anonymity, and depraved enough to take her for what she was - a murderess. She had connections there, people both her father and her husband had been involved in - the O’Sheas. They offered her a cornerstone, something to hold on to, something to be loyal to, a purpose - and she would forever be grateful for that. Whatever life she’d once lead was behind her now, lost in the wind of time - there was nothing else to do but look ahead. 

PERSONALITY: 

+  caring, loyal, pragmatic, charming, intelligent -   vindictive, hedonistic, quick-tempered, dramatic, violent

HEADCANONS: 

➤  She drives an Aston Martin DB5 and is absolutely obsessed with it, she loves that car. It was a gift from her father back in the day and she’s kept it in pristine condition all these years. Her fierce attachment comes from the fact it’s one of those rare things that keeps her connected to her father.  ➤  The akhal-teke mare, Duchess, was an anniversary gift from her husband - she got her a few months before he killed himself, and she loves that horse dearly, making sure to visit her whenever she has time.  ➤   She has a fondness for sniper rifles - it’s a clean job and requires peace of mind and precision, something she’d learned back in Paris. It’s sort of a legacy from another time, and her preferred way of killing someone when it’s possible. Her signature shot is a bullet through the carotid artery.  ➤   She was once a girl of faith, but it’s a topic she has mixed feelings on these days - how can she believe in something when her hands are stained red with blood? Still, she likes the peace and quiet of churches, regardless which faith they belong to, and they offer her shelter and solace when she needs it.  ➤  She’s not as bad as she might appear. Though she can be cruel and heartless and her words seem sharp and aloof - she’s a deeply human creature. There’s a sense of morality about her that she abides by, it’s a way to make peace with everything she’s done in her life. She’s capable of love and fiercely loyal to those she cares about.  ➤  She actually always wanted to be a mom, to do a better job than her mother did, but she realizes it’s not a possibility considering her line of work and the life she lives. One of the more heartbreaking moments in her life was realizing her husband wanted nothing to do with children, and it was absolutely out of question.  ➤   She has an addictive personality and seems to gravitate to all things bad for her, it explains a lot about her marriage and generally life.  ➤   She actually fell in love with another assassin that worked for her husband back in Paris, probably because he was more like her than her husband was, more human and real. But unbeknownst to her, her husband had him killed and covered up so to this day she blames herself for his death, thinking she should’ve been there to have his back because they were partners in the field. Little does she know there’s nothing she could’ve done if her husband wanted him gone.  ➤  She likes dealing art in the black market when she’s not out there killing people. It’s an appreciation her father had instilled in her when she was a child, and later on something her husband showed her could be a job. She’s been involved in both art theft and forgery of paintings since painting is something she’s been skilled at since she was a kid.  ➤  She keeps her true identity a secret, partly because she doesn’t want anyone coming after her, but mostly because it’s a painful chapter of her life that she prefers to forget. She considers her pain and humanity a great weakness and is very careful about who she lets in on it.  ➤   She’s fiercely protective of people in her gang, even if she doesn’t get along with them - doesn’t matter, they’re a family and you have to have have family’s back. But if she’s on really good terms with you, you’ll see a softer side to her, there’s a lot of maternal instinct in there and she tends to care a lot (if and when she allows herself that)  ➤   She speaks Russian, French and English fluently but for the sake of appearing genuine she dons a faint French accent and throws in a ‘mon cheri’ here and there for good measure. She speaks English just fine though, bitch’s just acting and being extraTM.  ➤   Also very flirty and can be domineering, I mean what did you expect hahaha

Also connections! i’m going to post a wanted connections page soon but feel free to contact me anyway, like she needs it all from proteges, to friends, to enemies, to fwb just ALL of it, she’s a wild woman