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[sloanerangel]

Nerve (2016)

[sloanerangel]

starter for: open (one character per mun), @senatusstarters​ location: around the museum

Maybe the whole idea of it was a bit touristy, but there was something about wandering a city and getting lost in the architecture as the locals moved about their day to keep the place functioning. Learning the smells, the tastes of the air and the sound of its heartbeat. She would soon be one of them— a local, that is, as her and her cousin settled into the new scenery. Parts of it remind her of the place that she hadn’t actually laid eyes on in almost a decade, all the fountains and venetian plaster that was common around her hometown, but the Romans left their mark on a lot of locations and not just the minds of philanthropists in the Midwest. A muffled sigh fell from Sloane’s lips as she nestled more into the shady spot she found just outside the Museum’s intersection, finely decorated with summer flowers and water currents that only give the illusion that it’s not hot as the hellscape. Dressed in all black nonetheless, cut off shorts and beat up Marten boots; the hunter sipped on her iced latte with a squinting scowl. Yes, Sloane needed to poke around the area but a part of her wondered at the detriment to her personal health. “See the sights, he says. Meet the locals,” sarcasm oozed from her lips before realizing anyone was in close enough proximity to notice her or hear her anguish. While several of the churches at least had marble and stone to help keep the space cool, it was true that Rome seemed to lack when it came to air conditioning in these tourist hot spots.

[sloanerangel]

[sloanerangel]

NAME. Sloane Rangel AGE & BIRTH DATE. 30 & August 3rd, 1993 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Human AFFILIATION. The Eye OCCUPATION. Hunter & Bartender at Killjoys FACE CLAIM. Renata Notni

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: drugs, alcohol, abuse, death, violence, murder ) The summer following the quick elopement of Carmen and Patrick was filled with scorching heat and humidity, something that the city had long grown accustomed to, but also a bright-eyed baby girl named Sloane. Her arrival wasn’t anything that the couple had originally planned for, both being just the edges of their twenties when Carmen found out she was expecting, but was a prized jewel to her mother nonetheless. The lack of financial means, in the grand scheme of things, meant little in comparison to a healthy family and a sense of hope that something better could be ahead. Her father began to work constantly, taking up jobs anywhere he could find to keep their heads above water, while her mother stayed in their tiny two bedroom apartment to save on daycare. Within the first two years together, the delicately stitched couple began to completely fall apart at the seams. Energizing pill packets found at truck stops were switching out for harder concoctions to stay awake and keep the hastened pace, while Patrick’s attitude steadily changed. Fights started to become routine. After six years of this delicate serpentine, the fate of their home life was inevitable and the two finally split.

Initially, Carmen was to get full custody of Sloane and had plans to move them both to the Rangel family home until things cleared up. But the situation was long out of Carmen’s control, as fate often does, and Patrick took control of Sloane’s moment for some kind of normalcy all out of his own personal spite. Once the court order went officially through, Sloane’s contact with her mother was pierced and a rift was forged.

Often the days felt like torture until Sloane seemed to numb herself from the pain, the acidic and poisonous taste becoming such commonplace that she almost forgot it was there. That is, until the other shoe would drop and her father’s ravenous addiction would seize. When she finally reached the ripe age of twelve, her Uncle moved him and his son to a town just north of where she lived and purchased a large piece of land. Serving as a kind of salvation, her cousin Anthony’s presence grew into that of a bond similar to a brother’s and the pair were almost never seen apart. As time went on, she invested in a tiny cabin on their property’s tree line and Sloane did her best to find solace in even the smallest of life’s gifts. Whenever she got a chance to escape the poisonous walls of what she saw as her father’s home, she was out on the hunt. Learning about her family’s choppy connection to the Eye only validated how different she felt from so many others, why she felt as though there was an infestation in the place that was supposed to bring rest and comfort. But a look behind her Uncle’s eyes had always given her pause and she thought maybe there was something there that he was hiding.

Sloane had seen the reminisce of the Devil in Patrick before, not seeing him for maybe days or weeks at a time and he would come back with sunken eyes she hardly recognized. He’d seem better for a little while and fill her ears with false promises of salvation or repentance, but the cycle would start all over again. The structure that was built around her was that of her own creation and what she found in the Lannen home, though instead of pitying herself; Sloane motivated herself to be more sharp-witted and brawny. Though burnt children often enjoy playing with fire, don’t they? While what she had seen of love was complicated and toxic, often unattainable in her eyes, there was still a part of her that craved warmth like any human being. Intriguing, wicked brilliant, and nothing like what she was used to from the other small-minded kids, a fire that was unknowingly lit on the backburner rapidly came to the forefront when she met Kieran. A relationship that started as friend’s would inevitably lead to a scathing romance over time, an on-and-off again dance that Sloane found herself in as she fought transforming into the very thing she hunted in the shadows. Unable to see with eyes wide open that the Devil was in him, too.

All around, Sloane found it difficult to see the good in humanity, but it was trying to latch itself onto the small city Sloane called home. She saw it in the Lannen’s and the various other hunters who came into the Midwest or settled here, too. Except secrets breed mistrust, no matter how righteous the other might feel in their intent, and shortly before her seventeenth birthday— her cousin divulged what she long suspected. Packed away in her parents storage unit held all the evidence her father would have rather kept hidden for centuries, the cause for her town’s decimation, and him at the center of a mass religious sacrifice. Fury bubbled inside her, bitter tears streaming down her face as the truth lay blatantly before her that the roof she shared was one with a double-crosser. Sloane didn’t need to wonder why her mother had never been able to do more to aid her prior to hiding out, this was a contagion that no one could grapple alone.

She’d destroy all of them— no matter the toll, a murmured promise under biting teeth. When her jaded eyes set themselves on her father again, it was only to look at him condescendingly and with a contentment knowing she would be the reason for his downfall. Within the bat of those same eyes, slayed. They, too, would know what it was like to live in constant fear and experience carnage.

Following her father’s death, Sloane packed up the place that never felt like a real home and left the rest in the care of the Lannen’s. She would never find the value in anything that land held anyway, never wanting to set foot around the place that caused her so much turmoil. Her father’s absence meant nothing, the ground was stained and unholy. Yet without the tethering and unease that he had caused all those years, there was a new sense of freedom that took over Sloane. A kind of rapture. There was nothing hampering her and suddenly the new proposition of seeing her mother again was the main priority. The desert was calling to her, so she heeded and made her way towards the Rangel family home to be welcomed with open arms. Though that wasn’t the only thing festering just over the horizon, the southwest having a long history of being a playground for the legions of darkness.

A fair number of people believe in fate, Lady Luck, and even things like destiny or karma. Sloane, however, dismissed the idea that anyone ruled her life other than herself. She was her own fate, made her own choices, but when she laid those jaded eyes on Kieran in the California heat— she was certain he was some type of mirage. Not some goddess messing with a string like she remembered hearing in her ancient Greek and Roman class, those were simply myths. Nevertheless, the burnt child that yearned for devotional reared its ugly head and she fell back into the pattern of their vicious love affair. It was no surprise what would happen next, given the loose fabric that was stitched together all these years between them and the delusion that they both would be able to start fresh. Those same markings that Sloane had originally turned a blind-eye to resurged, patterns that were like her father’s, and there was no denying that it was the Devil at hand. The familiar feeling of wrath flooded her veins that she mustered up while standing in front of her father. Hadn’t she promised?

Shortly before dawn, she fled and headed back to the Rangel homestead to say some final goodbyes. It seemed unfathomable to put her mother unknowingly into any sort of danger and as long as Sloane walked this earth, trouble would follow her trail; injecting themselves into anyone she cherished. She’d stay the course of that authentic vow, traveling the United States with her cousin by her side, hunting the creatures that people like her father wished to dominate the world. Besides, keeping her feet on the ground running shielded her from the tortuous memories of her past. The road was comfortable and safe, in that way, so when the chase meant relocating to Rome; the pair made the shift. Roots back in the United States would always be there, along with a past she would ultimately like to forget, but much like the blood of her predecessors— she refused to back down from a fight and was ready to slay the beast.

PERSONALITY

+ strong-willed, disciplined, ambitious – meticulous, over-critical, guarded

PLAYED BY CHARLIE. CST. She/Her.

[sloanerangel]

starter for: @kadirosman​ location: killjoy’s

If there were supernatural hunters living within a city, there was a bar that suited their particular taste and needs. Killjoy’s, everyone whispered to Sloane when she was originally looking for quick work. The name rapidly popped up as the spot for newcomers to tether themselves to and her years of hoping from restaurant to restaurant meant for an odd array of talents. But the speed that it took behind a bartop was a rush that the hunter had always enjoyed and her natural grace made for nearly no mistakes. “Get something going for you?” she stated quickly, Italian still a bit spotty though she wondered if she was just being hard on herself when it came down to it. Sloane was getting used to the ebb and flow of the space, the regulars that would come in and what their usuals were. She had found that she preferred the ones that knew exactly what they were looking for and when she was busy, she lacked the desire to try holding a deep conversation. But a slow weeknight like this meant the most that was going on was the light bit of traffic that found itself inside the place regardless of the day, which led more to boredom than anything else, “I can make a mean black currant cocktail, they’re in season too.”

[sloanerangel]

The Archer ~

NAME. UTP. AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25+ & UTP. SPECIES. Human AFFILIATION. N/A OCCUPATION. UTP.

Nobody ever counted you in. If they put any thought towards you at all it was that you were gonna live and die in that shitty, small town. You practically raised yourself but at the time you didn’t mind it so much, you thought all kids had it this way - parents that just weren’t around and siblings you had to take care of on your own. But you were a survivor, a scrapper, and when Hell blew through your life it took just about everything that mattered from you. Stronger, faster, smarter, you had to keep moving in order to survive. They left you with nothing and never paid a second thought to the person you could grow into. In an old truck among your parents possessions you found the reason why the Devil himself decided to blow your whole fucking world apart, and that was when your second life really began. You chased the thing that destroyed you to the bitter end, hunting down monsters along the way until the trail eventually led you to Rome. They said all roads and until then you never knew what that meant, but beneath the streets and down every dark alley breathed the very things you swore to kill. If you ever believed in fate you might have said that God himself brought you here for a reason.

THIS SKELETON IS CURRENTLY OPEN.

[sloanerangel]

lifeinpoetry​:

I saw the dark of the night and I wanted it. desire for a dark thing was a dark thing in me.

— Shay Vera-Cruz, from “Hollowing,” published in Bombus Press

[sloanerangel]