cursed-with-feelings

[cursed-with-feelings]

Vampire

Vampire: Which of the Seven Deadly Sins relates to your muse?

Lust. Aside from Marisol’s strong love of alcohol, her huge vice is meaningless sex. She often sleeps with men or women with no intention of calling them the next day and simply just slipping out after she is done. She loves the act of sex. She hates emotional connection. 

[cursed-with-feelings]

Sphinx + Pegasus + Nymph

Sphinx: How does your muse value loyalty?

Marisol doesn’t really have a strong sense loyalty as she usually tries to do stuff on her own. She sees people as eventually someone that will use, betray, or hurt her in the end. She keeps her distance instead of getting hurt and never really allows get to know her deeply. 

Pegasus: How does your muse connection to air?

Her connection to air is more in the sense that she does enjoy travelling. Marisol would love to visit a bunch of cities across the world if she could afford to do such or had the time. 

Nymph: How does your muse connect to earth?

As an earth witch, her connection with the earth runs deep. She is able to control the earth around her. She also in a sense is a more grounded person once she allows you to get past the sort of frat boy type airs that she puts on for herself. 

[cursed-with-feelings]

xrowansmithx​:

A small smile tips up the corner of her mouth, she can respect what Marisol wants. It was only quiet drinking that seemed to be the current events and Rowan could be quite happy with that. Sometimes it was okay to sit in silence and share a bottle of scotch, another knock back of the amber liqueur and Rowan feels all honeyed inside. 

The silence was peaceful. It was what she needed after everything had been so loud. A soft sigh escaped from her lips as she would finish her drink rather quickly any time it was replinished. Getting drunk sounded like the best option of it all. If she was drunk, there was a numbing of everything. That numbing is sort of what she craved. 

[cursed-with-feelings]

atlasxrose​:

Without hesitation, Atlas jumped in, his feet landing on the garbage pile as he looked around to see if anyone from the street was watching. So far they were good and the witch said nothing when Marisol brought something over to stand on instead of hopping in herself. Who would want to jump into a dumpster with little more than a hunch? Probably a crazy person. Atlas tore through a bag of garbage, gloves of his own protecting his hands for reasons that were different than Marisol’s. While Atlas knew of her abilities, what he did not know was the trauma associated with it. 

Atlas glanced at Marisol as she spoke and he tore into another black bag, only to watch a slew of take out containers and other household trash poor out. He made a face but answered Marisol just the same, the witch thought again to his dream, the image burned into his mind. “I saw someone that was… I don’t know. Off. Their face was twisted, it was sickening to look at.” Atlas answered honestly, “What that actually means though?” The witch shrugged before he hopped out of the dumpster, suddenly having an idea. “I wasn’t digging in my dream, the dumpster tipped over and the body fell out.” Atlas gripped the side of the bin to pull it over and looked at Marisol, it was heavy. “Give me a hand?”

Marisol noticed Atlas jump into the garbage pile rather quickly. She admired that he was so willing to jump in head first into the situation. It was rather brave of him. As her life went on, Marisol became more cautious. Not that there was something wrong with him lack of caution, but she couldn’t allow herself to act so recklessly when she had a curse that could cause her to be overwhlemed with memory, feeling, and so much that she couldn’t handle without preparation... Or well, she shouldn’t handle without proper preparation. She hadn’t had much of a choice with her most recent venture with her curse. Her mind already going to a dark place for a moment when she heard Atlas’ voice bringing her back. 

She nodded. “I see. An off face is not much of what we have to go on, but maybe we can identify who you are thinking of if I can so you some of Greece’s most wanted criminals.” Marisol offered though she knew they weren’t done. “Sure.” She replied to him and a gloved hand helped tip the dumpster with him in order for it to fall as he said it did in his dream. Her deep brown eyes focused as they turned it over.

[cursed-with-feelings]

antonylcts​:

The smirk from Antony’s lips fell, even if just for a moment. “Oh, so you know exactly what I’m doing up here,” he flashed a glimpse at the girl now slumped against the roof top, she almost looked dead. Although his attention quickly moved back to the stranger in front of him, returning a hard glare. She looked confident, so sure of herself and her authority. “Well, even if it’s not a crime scene, it’s about to be.” The man scoffed, he wasn’t about to let some sure-of-herself witch ruin his meal. Letting out an audible groan, he turned on his heel, back tracking to his victim, where he grabbed her by the arm, yanking her upwards with a steel look back at his uninvited company. “Unless you’re planning on stepping in for this young woman, I suggest you leave.” his grin returned, almost devilish with pointed fangs making their appearance. “Unless you want to watch.” 

“And you know that I have abilities to prevent you from doing that.” Marisol never liked summoning werewolves, so she never did. On a rooftop, they were further from her element and so it was harder to control it. Still, the brunette made it seem like she had all the confidence in the world. “So, unless you plan to get arrested today...” She twirled a pair of handcuffs in her hands. “Or worse...” The brunette hinted to having a stake on her. “Then I suggest you let her go.” He didn’t have to know what element she was. He didn’t have to know she hated summoning werewolves because all and all threats were valid ones when dealing with a witch, even if she herself might not go through with all of them. She knew that she had to protect the woman because if she didn’t, then the woman very well could die. 

[cursed-with-feelings]

dicmedes​:

He wasn’t sure the feats of strength and brilliance were necessary to succeed at carnival games, but they certainly didn’t hurt. Nor did it hurt to be reminded of his admirable traits. As for the prizes, he didn’t plan on keeping them all; his assistant would have her picks, as would Marisol- and the aftermath he would donate. He had accumulated enough to likely fill an entire orphanage; possibly having cleared out more than half the game prizes.

Looking her up and down, he wondered briefly if she was hot beneath her pride ensemble. But for better, it was her mouth that caught his key. “Violet is your color,” he murmured, taking her chin between two fingers; the tip of his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip. In a more distant time, violet had once been the color of royalty. Perhaps, when it decorated such an amiable countenance, it still was.

Her eagerness with the sweet front was hard to say no to. She must have really been craving the specialty drinks. “Whatever you like; surprise me.”

“Well, thank you. That’s why I wore it.” Marisol replied with a wink as his thumb traced the line of her lower lip. Diomedes was always a fun time and she knew that, which is why she had approached him in the first place. She wanted a fun time... No... Needed was more the correct term for it. It was something that he could very easily provide for her and she knew that expenses never seemed to get to large for him. 

She ordered two blood orange margaritas for them and then her attention turned back to him with a smile still playing on her violet lips. “Always so generous.” Marisol teased him lightly as she used a gloved hand to run her fingers through his hair for a moment. “I was feeling tropical, so margartias seemed to be fitting.” The brunette mused. Tequilla sounded nice right now as well, so that was also the kicker. 

“Has today just been you and your assistant so far? Have you two been enjoying yourselves?” She asked as the bartender quickly brought over their drinks and she took a sip from hers.

[cursed-with-feelings]

leonidaskaratasos​:

   “Part of what gig?” He looked over at the other with curiosity in his eyes, before his lips curled up into a smirk. “My splendid company, of course.” Leonidas wasn’t about to offer anything he couldn’t offer, or didn’t want to offer. If drinks didn’t do it for her, maybe having some fun would. “Ah, that’s too bad. I’m not used to paying for my own drinks either. Guess we have a problem now.”

“Crime scene investigator.” Marisol replied simply with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe, we should just pay for our own drinks then because I can tell you I am not paying for yours.” The brunette ordered herself another drink as her gloved hand rested on the bartop. 

[cursed-with-feelings]

“Hey there, handsome.” Marisol purred as she placed a gloved hand on Diomedes’ shoulder. He was always a good time and she felt finding him at pride would be no different. She really needed pride to take her mind off what happened though the witch would never voice that to anyone. Scyalla ever present in her nightmares at this point. That same feeling of betrayal and death, she oftentimes was in the place of the shifter... The haunting blue eyes that she wanted to drink to forget. Yet, nobody could see how torn apart she was on the inside. Marisol always made sure of that. Every wall built and reinforced with unimaginable amounts of steel. She looked like the party, frat girl, CSI agent that she always was. 

“How about you get us a round of shots?” She suggested to him with a wink. Diomedes probably had more money than he knew what to do with and his poor assistant was over there carrying all his prizes from the various games that he one. “A little post game celebration for the victorius and strong Diomedes.”  

@dicmedes​

[cursed-with-feelings]

Psychometry... ft. Marisol

“Everything I experience hits me deep, raw, and intense...”

[cursed-with-feelings]

petrichorxathanasios​:

Petrichor had no problem filling the woman’s request, the less time he spent here, the better, he knew that. He entered the woman’s home and lingered, he wasn’t abut to push his way in, nor intrude anymore than he already had. It was clear that she did not really want to help, but Petrichor didn’t have any other options. The direction had been clear, bring it to the witch with psychometry, her power would be sufficient to see whatever it was that had happened to his sister. “When this is over I can assure you that you’ll never see me again.” The phoenix stated definitively, this was used a bit loosely, because there was no telling how many more questions the dagger could end up bringing out. Petrichor moved to hand the blade to the woman in front of him, “Crystal. Now, would you?”

He moved the blade to her. Marisol’s dark brown eyes were hardened, cold in their gaze. She knew that whatever was going to happen was going to take a toll on her. There was no telling what sort of memories were attached to this blade or if she would even get a vision of what he wanted. slowly she removed her safety net, her glove finger by finger. The dark-haired young woman placed it next to her on the couch. Slender fingers that were usually hidden touched the blade for just a moment... Her screams ripped through the still air that surrounded them. Her free hand that was not touching the blade, gripped her stomach. Tears began to run down her olive-toned cheeks though it was clear that the woman was not aware of her surroundings anymore. Shock. Betrayal. The pain of dying. It was all much for her and with all the going on Scyalla could only give Marisol the flash of blue eyes, but Scyalla knew them. She could tell that she knew them. It felt as though her blood was pouring out as she ripped her hand back and she was back in her livingroom crying and hyperventilating. The pain of dying was something that she would never get used to. Marisol moved to wrap her arms around her knees. However... Her bare hand touched the blade once more. 

Eyes look as though they are miles away....

No more pain. This time, her body is sweating as though she had been digging for a while. She could almost feel the sun beating down on her during a hard days work. And that was when they got it. Fenrir. Even though all they took was the dire wolf's jawbone, she knew that it was Fenrir from the person’s memory attached to the blade. That was where it came from. His jawbone was used to make this. Slowly, she came back to the room. She was sweating, had been crying, and now was wrapping her arms around herself. Marisol didn’t want to talk. After what he put her through, she didn’t know if she could say anything... Her throat had hurt from screaming and crying... She knew he would ask though.

[cursed-with-feelings]

noahkramer​:

    “I’m just warning you because my dance group years are long behind me.” When her arm was linked with his, Noah led her back to the people that were dancing to the music blasting from speakers, an amused laugh falling from his lips. “That makes it sound much more dramatic than this is.” Stopping on a free spot on the dance floor, he rolled up his sleeves as if to playfully demonstrate that he was getting ready for that mission. “Let’s hope I don’t fail it.”

“Oh come on! I’m sure you have a little bit more dance in you.” She allowed for him to lead her back to the people who were dancing. A smirk forming on her lips as she couldn’t help other than to laugh as he rolled up his sleaves. “Just feel the music. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

[cursed-with-feelings]

Marisol Reid’s Pride Outfit

[cursed-with-feelings]

antonylcts​:

The flash of the badge still glistened in the low light of the night sky, rumbling thunder rolling in from the distance. Antony had to give her some credit, it was ballsy of her to come up there after him, standing unshaken in his presence. “Just a couple trying to hook up on a roof,” he lied through his teeth, knowing it probably wasn’t in his best interest to get the law after him. However, when an magic earthy aroma hit his nose, he knew he wasn’t dealing with just some ordinary human. Brushing past the girl he’d brought up there, he closed the distance between him and the investigator. “Might I ask what you’re doing up here, miss?” he trailed off as though expecting her to reveal to him her name, tongue sliding over teeth a devilish smile hitting his features as he raked his eyes over her, “Is this a crime scene or something?” 

“I can sense the dark magic in you, so cut the act.” Marisol advised him her tone fierce and demanding though clear. He closed the distance between them and she still confidently looked up into his eyes. Her chest was puffed out a little bit as her hands found their way to her hips. Marisol remained proud and tall in her posture, as he looked her over. She specifically chose to not give him her name as she didn’t see it as necessary. “I don’t see where your qualifications even allow for you to be up on this roof, so whether or not it is a crime scene is none of your concern. Understood?” 

[cursed-with-feelings]

atlasxrose​:

Marisol was characteristically humorless, at least she hadn’t insulted him the moment that she saw him. Somehow Atlas felt like that was progress. “Coffee?” Atlas asked as he handed her the extra that he’d bought for her, the sun was still hours from coming up, he doubted either of them would be getting back to sleep anytime soon. This was going to make for a very long day, but the witch had a hunch that he’d led them both in the right direction, hopefully it wasn’t going to be all for nothing. 

Atlas set his own coffee down on a broken abandoned desk at the side of the alley, his gaze turned towards the dumpster on the other side and he pointed aptly at the logo he’d mistaken for an obscure symbol in his dream. “I think I saw this specific dumpster in my dream.” He directed a wry smile at Marisol before he flipped open the lid and hopped in, “I think there might be something inside?” Though considering her ability, how Marisol wanted to investigate the area was up to her. The disfigured image in his mind still pressed at his thoughts, however gross the task, he couldn’t help but think they’d find something here.

Marisol nodded and took the coffee from him. The dark haired witch took a sip from it as she listened to Atlas speak about his dream. He mentioned something being inside. No. Her brain immediately screamed at her as she clutched her stomach for a second. A flash to a previous thing she dealt with still fresh on her mind. She couldn’t use her curse because after all... It was still a curse. It would rip her apart from the trauma of it all if what they were dealing with was venturing anywhere near what she dealt with... 

She had to do this normally. However, she couldn’t tell Atlas why. She couldn’t let anyone know how deeply this shit affected her or how much she was hurting. “How deep inside was it in your vision?” She asked him as she moved something she could stand on over to the dumpster to allow herself something to peer in. “And is there any chance you know what sort of crime it is attached to? Like anything more specific than what you have given me so far?”

[cursed-with-feelings]

petrichorxathanasios​:

Petrichor’s gaze canted towards her easily, his cold blue eyes leveled on hers as his features turned more neutral. The truth was something the phoenix compelled form people, just by being around them, “I found the murder weapon.” Petrichor said easily, he knew she was a witch, and she should also feel the brightness of his own magic. Old. He was clearly not some average detective or investigator, but just the same he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and produced the bone dagger that had been used to butcher his sister at the Temple of Apollo. It was not his grief that was difficult to deal with, nor was it the emotional toll that came with the loss of his sister. What was difficult to deal with was not having answers, particularly when they were narrowly within his grasp. “I know you’re a witch, and I know also about your psychometry. You’ll find the truth is something that’s impossible to keep from me. Now,” he waved the blade, nonthreatening, “are you still going to tell me that there isn’t anything you can do to help me, inside?”

“Fucking hell.” She cursed softly to herself when she heard the words murder weapon and psychometry. Of course that was what he was here for. But, did he know how it worked? Did he realize that it would rip her apart and she would experience the murder too? Did he even care?... No, he probably didn’t. She was just a tool that he could use to find out what happened to his sister. While she could feel the brighteness of his magic, she knew that no brightness would be felt the moment she touched what he was holding. “Fine. Come in. But as soon as this is over, you leave and you never bother me again.” The witch bit the inside of her cheek as she looked up at the man. “Did I make myself clear on that one?” Whatever dreams that would follow this... Whatever hauting memories she would have to cycle through and separate the victims trauma from her own... She knew that his face would be tied to it now because instead of her doing it on her own at a crime scene where she has built herself up for it... It is now coming suddenly. 

[cursed-with-feelings]

Pizza is the only pretty little love triangle we need. Happy #NationalPizzaDay from our favorite pizza lover in the world, Shay Mitchell. 🍕