#accepted: gadriel

[thezenanna]

Wait! Maya made a deal with a warlock patron? Explain please, cause I wanna know more about this!

Another thing, been bugging me but what style of Muay thai do you see the twins using the most? (I just learned about the different styles and I'm in love with the martial art or as my dad calls it "the cool shit!" Lol)

Thanks for the question! Apologies for the short offline

Maya is an NPC created by my DM so there’s still gaps in her story that we’ve yet to uncover so bear with me

Maya had an accident while she was undercover, a deadly explosion. She was on the verge of death when an entity called the Heretic spoke to her in her mind. Maya knew she had to do everything to come back to Gadrielle, so she accepted the Heretic’s help, hence her warlock magical capabilities and little biddings in return. She’s not allowed to tell Dina much about the Heretic other than Maya believes that the Heretic is neutral and means no harm. That’s all we know so far!

Muay thai style, I can see Maya being an aggressive bouk with her punches, while Dina is a careful tae or mat with her kicks and a calculated khao with her piercing knee strikes!

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, JORDAN! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF GADRIEL.

Admin Rosey: Eeeeeee! Jordan you have no idea how much I’m bouncing off the walls because you brought us such an unparalleled Gadriel! I was hoping, with all my heart, that someone would dare to write a character that is full of such unfettered love, and you did it. All the more, you didn’t hold back with the adoration that seems to burrow itself into every single facet of the character. Your para sample was an absolute thrill to read and truly, I couldn’t have asked for someone more capable of delivering the Gadriel we all know and love. Thank you so much for this wonderful application - it had me grinning from ear to ear. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Jordan

Age | 23

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I’m not in school or working right now, so I do have quite a bit of free time on my hands. However, I still have real life stuff that crops up occasionally, and I’m currently looking for a job, so  if/when?? (hopefully) that happens I’ll let you guys know! As it stands, I can on average devote a few hours each day to rp’ing, though that might vary depending on the day.  

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | I saw Rosey reblog the prerelease advertisement thing and the rest was history. 

Current/Past RP Accounts | https://chandlerrosen.tumblr.com/ 

IN CHARACTER

Character | Gadriel

What drew you to this character? | 

Though there were quite a number of characters I considered applying for at various stages, I kept coming back to Gadriel. Within her character is everything I’m familiar with, and yet nothing that I’ve written before. I study (or studied, technically) early modern literature and art history, with a focus on Catholic theology, so I was initially drawn to Gadriel’s background as a martyred saint. I love her grief, I love the way she grows from it while still carrying it with her. I love her fighting for compassion and pacifism, while still being shrouded by the monstrous aspect of her that has always lingered within. Her love is her driving force, and her vision all encompassing, and for the “greater good,” but she is still so selfish. More on this now!

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

i. beware of false prophets [. . .] ye shall know them by their fruits

The God she loved was not always a benevolent one, but she loved Him nonetheless, the words of the scripture a familiar glaze on her tongue, weaving its way through the air as it settles around her like a warm blanket. These were the words she lived by, and the words she, in another life, died by. But now these words, and the God who fomented them, are obsolete—ash and dust, they swirl around her still, only a faint echo of their former glory. Now, the residents (those who choose to partake in religion) worship the Hundred-Eyed God—instead of fire and brimstone, this new deity promised everlasting serenity. Gadriel, like most residents of Caelum, doesn’t worship the Hundred-Eyed God, but as God’s most devout and loving follower, she is faced with the difficult task of protecting ISOLDE, the All-Seeing Priestess of the faith. Despite her best efforts, Gadriel finds herself liking the mortal, and where once Gadriel would have seen an idolator, she now sees what could turn into a friend. The relationship, however, is tenuous, and Gadriel is very reluctant to let herself become attached to the girl—it didn’t end so well for the last worshipped figure in Gadriel’s life. But more than that, Isolde feels like a punishment, or rather, like she should be a punishment. Sure, it pains Gadriel to watch new rituals when the old ones sit in her bones and on her tongue, aching to be remembered and repeated, but otherwise, her task is, at times, an enjoyable one. So when will the other shoe drop? I’m very interested in seeing how this relationship will develop, and how ESTIENNE will fit into it. The biography mentions that Gadriel would kill to protect ARAEL, presumably she would do the same for Isolde, if only out of obligation (though personal affection may one day be a reason as well). Whether it be Estienne or someone else, how will Gadriel, generally a pacifist, react if Isolde is threatened?

I also think it’s interesting to consider what would happen, not if Isolde is physically threatened, but if her status is somehow threatened, or if someone, say ORIAS or CASSIEL (though there are many others), challenges Isolde (an extension of the Hundred-Eyed God) as someone/something to be worshipped? Zealotry is comfortable for Gadriel, a familiar armor to lace over her chest as she draws her sword, but it has rusted and worn down, a passion without a purpose, without an outlet. I think Gadriel is far from becoming a zealot for the Hundred-Eyed God, and to be honest, I’m not sure it would ever actually happen. However, I can see this going two ways (not necessarily mutually exclusive, either): 

Gadriel develops a love for Isolde similar to the love she felt for God; it would be different, no doubt, but I think part of Gadriel’s worship of God in her mortal life came from, faith yes, but also love and a desire to be loved. Her worship of God was not entirely unselfish, but fervently pious nevertheless. Could Gadriel ever get to the point where she would take up her sword for Isolde, not against imminent danger, but against idolatry? Maybe, maybe not, and if it did, it would be, as I said, much further down the line, and certainly not as strong as the zealotry she exhibited for God, but I do think it’s an important aspect of Gadriel that cannot just be shirked because her God is dead.

Regardless of Isolde and how Gadriel may feel about her, there is still a part of Gadriel, no matter how slowly waning it may be, that fought tooth and nail to worship her God, both as a human and angel. And now, with people cropping up, Orias, Cassiel, Michael, etc. who try to fill that void He left, to be worshipped in their own right, I’m interested in how Gadriel will react. Obviously, Gadriel is not omnipotent, and therefore doesn’t necessarily know the extent to which these various figures have designs on power, on reverence. But throughout the course of the roleplay, I think as their actions reflect their intentions, and as those intentions become clearer, the familiar feeling of zealotry will crop up again, burning inside Gadriel’s bosom as it once had. Perhaps something starts it, perhaps she will see the corruption of mortals, of her fellow angels, even, and she wants to stop it. It’s not something she could do alone, at least not successfully, and depending on where Gadriel is in her development, she might not even care at first. But I still think it would be interesting to explore, and which unlikely alliances she may form to quell the rising of a new, different, idol. 

ii. should intermitted vengeance arm again / His red right hand to plague us?

For every cloud, there is a silver lining, and for every slain deity, a world to be made anew. I don’t think Gadriel has ever been motivated by power, and I don’t think she is now, either. I do think, however, that she believes in a very strong vision of the world, a vision she believed she shared with her God. Of course, without God, Gadriel now has the freedom to reshape her vision, and mold the world into, as the biography states,  “her own vision of beauty.” But that which is beautiful, is also terrible, for beauty without power is vulnerability, a quality Gadriel has shedded like a skin too tight and too itchy to ever be comfortable again. There is an anger inside her, a feeling of righteousness against those she believes have acted unjustly. Namely, MICHAEL and CASSIEL. There are many people she blames for this war, for the death of her beloved God, and Michael’s name is at the top of the list. He clipped her wings, he punished her for her pride (for is hubris not the most base of the tragic flaws?), smearing her face in the dirt of her own folly by naming her the Virtue of Temperance, forcing her to protect a being instrumental to the worship of a new, unfamiliar religion. And still, Gadriel turns the other cheek. To wage outright war against Michael would be foolish, and though Gadriel is privy to foolishness (a lingering effect of her not-so-long-forgotten mortality), she isn’t that foolish. I think the dynamic between Gadriel and Michael is very interesting, and something I’d love to explore. As he hungers for more power, as Gadriel’s resentment of him festers, infecting her life’s blood with boiling wrath, when will Gadriel decide that enough is enough. And who will stand with her? 

Now onto Cassiel. Cassiel’s betrayal of the Cherubim, of Gadriel and her own people (though really, with Gadriel’s part in the war against Michael, I think Gadriel would be put on trial regardless), is another interesting avenue to explore. I mentioned Cassiel above as being a sort of “False Prophet,” and in truth, I think she is the antithesis to Gadriel. Speaking of Cherubim, I think Gadriel and ZADKIEL would actually get along fairly well, as Gadriel is (or at least was) well-liked by her fellow angels, and liked them in return, and I think they have a similar philosophy and moral compass. Would Gadriel and Zadkiel, two angels affected by Cassiel’s actions, end up lighting the spark of retribution against Cassiel? Or will it divide them? Cassiel and Gadriel are two people driven by the notion of beauty, though their definitions couldn’t be further apart. While Cassiel’s vision is of herself, Gadriel sees an eternal peace, filial piety and the burning passion of people who join in communion as one (so really, the concept of the Hundred-Eyed God should be alluring to her, once Gadriel realizes that it aligns with her vision and she could wield it considering Isolde is her charge—I digress). Perhaps Gadriel goes against Cassiel, not necessarily for past indiscretions, but present grievances. 

To create, you must destroy, and from the ashes of the old world will Gadriel’s vision of beauty rise, sheathed in gold with a purity so simple, it can only be considered divine.   

iii. when is a monster not a monster?

The answer, of course, “when you love it.” Gadriel’s connections to Asmodeus, Arael, and Mammon are all thematically concerned with when Gadriel shows her monstrous side, if at all. With ARAEL, Gadriel’s monstrous side is not hidden, because with their level of intimacy, with its purity, Gadriel holds no secrets from Arael. It just rarely (if ever) rears its ugly head. The biography mentions that Gadriel would kill for Arael, and I would like to put that to the test. I don’t know how, or when, but I want Gadriel to become a monster, all for the sake of Arael. She knows of Arael’s grief, but I’m wondering just how much Gadriel knows of Arael’s visits to ABBADON’S domain. If she doesn’t know, then perhaps Gadriel will feel betrayed. Of course, she wouldn’t take it out on Arael, there is very little Arael could do to warrant that sort of emotion from Gadriel, but I do think it would shift their relationship. If Gadriel does know, however, I wonder if Gadriel might try to take it upon herself to help Arael (if it’s unwanted, so much the better), because Gadriel is the picture of self-righteousness.  

ASMODEUS is an interesting case with regard to Gadriel’s monstrous side. She hasn’t quite figured him out, she doesn’t know his sad past, but the glances they share, the stares that betray his longing for something else, someone else, intrigue her. And I think it makes Gadriel feel powerful, this unsaid tension between them, the notion that at any moment, it could all crumble and collapse, that he could, if she so chose. I think she wants to poke and prod at him, maybe from afar at first, and then toy with him, his vulnerability between her teeth, with only gravity (the gravity she is so adept at manipulating) to crush it, or release him from her grasp. Of course, Gadriel is not without compassion, and maybe once she knows Asmodeus’ story, she’ll feel differently. It all depends on what part of Asmodeus she chooses to see: the human, or the demon.

Gadriel’s most monstrous side, her most vindictive and self-righteous, self-satisfying, parts, are shown in her relationship with MAMMON. She spared them, not because she felt pity, not because she cared, or didn’t wish to shed blood, but to show them that she could. She held their life at the end of her blade and laughed when she removed it from his throat. Surely they still harbor bitter feelings towards her, feelings of hatred and resentment, even. In Emma’s app for Mammon, she mentions how she envisions them fighting, even to the death. I fully agree, and am looking forward to their confrontation a lot. Gadriel is, generally, soft, but I want to explore those parts of her that are more monster than divine, more human than angel. 

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

In Gadriel’s mortal life, her driving motivation was her love for God, and her desire to be loved by God. The picture of piety, Gadriel shirked near all else to proclaim her love for God, frustrated when others wouldn’t recognize His great power, his all-encompassing love. Even when she became an angel, she was still driven by this love, but now it was realized, it was reciprocated. And rather than have that be diminished upon conquest, it only grew stronger and more fervent. 

Of course, after the war, after her wings were clipped, Gadriel turned into the dutiful angel, obeying Michael’s orders (much to her chagrin). Now she’s driven by her vision of beauty, of peace everlasting and passion overflowing. Love is still very much part of the equation, and the love she feels for Arael, for Isolde (maybe, eventually), also motivates her. But it’s her love for God, and for his vision, that stoke the fire of ambition in her loins. I think Gadriel is tired of constantly being taken for granted, being walked all over, and is using the new world as an opportunity to turn a page in her own life. To become all that she once sought to, to fulfill all righteousness on earth, and to spread her vision to all those who will listen. 

Character Traits | 

(passionate, loyal, empathetic)

(dogmatic, vengeful, obstinate)

In-Character Para Sample | 

“Brothers, sisters, friends, lend me your ears,” she began, standing in front of her fellow angels, on trial for crimes committed against Michael, committed for God. “I stand on trial today, though I believe myself innocent of all crimes, guilty only of being consumed by love. Perhaps my love was misplaced, my loyalty misguided, but is that so unreasonable? Was that not God’s almighty power—to stir inside those who are lost the guidance to follow His will through His love?” She looked around, eyes imploring as she clutched her chest. The room was bright, the sun almost overbearing and artificial, devoid of everything Heaven held, a false divinity imbuing every corner and crevice. She had been here before. But rather than in a spotless room, she was surrounded by dust and the jeers of Romans who believed her guilty of the same crime she was accused of now: treason.

“You accuse me of treason,” she began again, and the lion’s roar in her ear was so loud, she felt as though it was standing across the room from her, not Michael, “but forgive me, I knew nothing else. If my actions offended, let us rectify the situation, together. Let us venture forth, hand in hand, brothers in arms, angels enshrouded in the divinity that is our right, into this new era. But let us not paint this era with more blood than has already been shed; for is that truly what you want your legacy to entail? Fire and brimstone—would you be any better than the God you have deposed?” She raised her eyebrow, scanning the eyes of the crowd as they shifted uncomfortably. An invisible string lifted Gadriel’s spine—perhaps it was her power of gravity, perhaps newfound confidence at the uncomfortability of the angels who wished her dead.

“And how, dear sister, could we trust you?” Michael asked, unmoved, the pinnacle of strength and composure. 

“This is new territory for both of us, brother. This world has never known God’s absence—but together, and only together, could we bring it into a new Golden Age, an era of rebirth and plenty.” Everyone was silent, pondering her words. This silence was deafening, and the lion roared louder. Her heart began to race as she saw the saliva glint off the lion’s teeth, the blood staining its fur from the last human he shred. 

“You seek to do better than God? Well do better. Ff His picture of compassion was imperfect, perfect it. His vision of mercy unfulfilled, fulfill it.” The words stung her tongue as she spoke them against her God, but perhaps she could give Michael and his legions the chance to be better, if that is what they truly sought. “Violence, retribution. This is not the way, and we both know it.” 

Silence still more. Until finally, Michael made his decision. 

“Very well, you have your amnesty. But Gadriel, this can not go unpunished.” He contemplated further, his hands steepled like a church she once worshipped at, before continuing, “your wings will be clipped, and we will watch you. Very closely.” He nodded, but she could tell this wasn’t his desired outcome. 

“Thank you, Michael, for your compassion. You won’t regret it,” she said through gritted teeth, sharp as a lion’s, before she sheathed them. Not now. Not today. Today, she lived, and she will continue to do so, if only to continue God’s work. For so it become us to fulfill all righteousness. 

Extras | 

i. COMPANION: By her side, Gadriel’s companion is a LION. I’m hearkening back to the typological tradition of depicting a martyred saint with the instruments of their demise. St. Lawrence has his grill, St. Catherine of Alexandria her spiked wheel, and so Gadriel will have her lion. 

ii. WINGS: Gadriel’s wings are clipped, but not torn from her back. Right now they don’t extend past her shoulder blades, but at once they were the most radiant, pure, white of the softest down. When they grow back, however, perhaps they will be muddled and murky.

[loppytaffy]

Interesting to think about how "Saving People, Hunting things" means different things to the brothers:

To Sam, people act like people, and things act like things- Lenor (and Eli etc), Amy, Ruby, ghost!Eileen acted like people so he saved (protected) them, and people who act like things can be hunted (prisoners being hunted by a ghost- this guy wanted to be a lawyer and sees prisoners as Things 😐).

To Dean people ARE people (the inmates needed protecting because they are people) and things ARE things; to accept Cas he treats him as a person rather than a thing- removing God from his name, using a phone rather than prayer, very rarely relying on his celestial strength (treating his grace like he treats Sam's magic- a thing that people can borrow and still be people), calling him a "dorky little guy" etc, which is why he's able to say, categorically, that angels are dicks, but is still able to call Cas his best friend; he separated them. Cas hunting other angels was one of the things the moved Dean to trust him (ie see him as People, not Thing)

And throughout the series they both have to learn that the divide between People and Thing is a razor's edge; Dean lets Rowena, Garth, Benny, Crowley, Jack not only live, but be part of his family, and hunts the British Men of Letters to protect Things that are acting like People. Sam loses his trust in Things' capacity to be People after being scorned by Ruby and Gadriel, even shooting newborn Jack, though this is possibly influenced by a sense of Holy Mission since he learned he and his family have a gospel, and changing his sense of purpose in ways.

[theenglishsatanist]

Why Satanism?

By The English Satanist

Firstly, I am not a Bible scholar so there will be points of debate and possibly accuracy in this brief account. The key thing here is that I want to introduce the origins of the concept of the Devil and the people who chose to embrace it and how that links to the black mass.

*Origin of the idea of Satan or the Devil in stories*

The idea of the devil begins to appear in second and first centuries B.C.E. Jewish texts. The Old Testament (including Isaiah) outlines God’s battle with the serpent/dragon Leviathan ahead of creation. In Enoch, the “angel” who “led Eve astray” and “showed the weapons of death to the children of men” was called Gadriel (not Satan). About the same time, Solomon taught that “through the devil’s envy death entered the world, and those who are on his side suffer it.” It is possible that this may be the earliest reference to Eden’s serpent as the devil. To my knowledge, in neither text, nor in any document until after the New Testament, is satan then clearly identified as the serpent in Eden. At Qumran, though, Satan is said to be the leader of the forces of darkness; his power is said to threaten humanity.

By the first century C.E., Satan was adopted into the nascent Christian movement, as ruler over a kingdom of darkness, an opponent and deceiver of Jesus (Mark 1:13), prince of the devils and opposing force to God (Luke 11:15–19; Matthew 12:24–27; Mark 3:22–23:26). The Christian view was that Jesus’s ministry put an end to Satan’s reign (Luke 10:18) and the conversion of the gentiles leads them from Satan to God (Acts 26:18). The danger, we are told, is not gone, as Satan will endanger the Christian communities in a final act, described in the book of Revelation. Although the author of Revelation describes Satan as “the ancient serpent” (Revelation 12:9; 20:2), there is no clear link anywhere in the Bible between Satan and Eden’s talking snake.

The power to enter and possess people is given to Satan and his demons in the New Testament. This is what is said to have happened to Judas (Luke 22:3; John 13:27; cf. Mark 5:12–13; Luke 8:30–32).However, there appears to be a bleed across from the Arabic magical traditions as Shaitan (a word with singular and plural forms) and the Djinn portray similar powers.

When Paul later re-tells the story of Adam and Eve, he places the blame on the humans (Romans 5:18; cf. 1 Corinthians 15:21–22) and not on fallen angels, or on the serpent as Satan. Still, the association was soon made, and later Christian authors—Justin Martyr, Tertullian, Cyprian, Irenaeus and Augustine, soon linked Satan association with Eden’s talking snake.

*Satan as a rallying point for ‘others’ *

The early Christian Church identified a need to ‘scapegoat’ other folk to achieve greater control. The Biblical ‘opposer’ was soon pressed to work as the primary infector of good people with evil. This led to numerous crusades against anyone who did not share the Roman Church’s views.

However, the early Christian Church used curses. The so-called Mass of the Dead (later reflected in the Mass of San Seclaire - an early but enduring form of the Black Mass) was said by a priest to cause the victim to waste away. When the church banned the practice (around the 8th Century: need to check) many priests continued to take rewards for working this ritual on behalf of rich or otherwise desirable members of their congregation. This was the origin of the idea of a renegade priest conducting magical rituals for evil (e.g. no longer permitted by the church) purposes. It was only a short step for those with an ‘outsiders disposition’ who had to try and fit in, in a claustrophobic and cruel environment to identify those who ‘bat for the other side’ and find an unconventional point to rally around.

At the same time the Christian church was hypervigilant in regards to pagan traditions and through their hatred of Jews (as the slayers of Christ) began to use Hebrew words like Sabbath when referring to pagan and magical practices, citing Jewish alchemical and magical traditions to demonstrate similarities. The old gods were identified with either Satan or his legions of demons, and from an occult standpoint, the old gods began to operate through new names, just as they always had.

The magical aspect was soon combined with a long tradition of mocking the liturgy (especially among drinkers and gamblers) and lurid stories of untrammeled sexuality complemented an explosive mix.

The hyped atmosphere of the forbidden, hated, fun and licentious other became a rallying point for the secret kinksters of history. Nor were some of the Popes and senior clergy immune to these antinomian ways.

What evolved, allowed fetishes and kinks to thrive in relative safety, albeit with serious risk of torture, imprisonment or death if identified. This remained true until the fifties and sixties in the United States where a more liberal spirit was flourishing, and Anton Le Vay saw an opportunity to rev things up.

In England a more discrete atmosphere remained, reflected in the black magical work of the late Charles Pace (who corresponded with Anton Le Vay) and other groups like Manchester’s Lodge of the Black Prince, active in the 50s and 60s. A more political and less kinky stream emerged with the Order of the Nine Angles in the 80s. 

Why is Satanism important?

The whole of modern Western culture has grown out of the Christian Church and it views and accepted behaviours. So much so, that most people do not even question the patterns of thinking of the society they live in, or, recognise their origin. Occultists know the powers of the old gods. However, Satanism actually provides a key for the individual that accepts their cultural heritage while allowing them to become liberated from it. Satan or Pan or Baal or any of these names are undoubtedly powerful energies. But if you don’t understand where you come from, you will never have choices that free you to do what you want to, properly.

Satanism, for me, is the path that acknowledges Western cultural roots (good and bad) and liberates you from them in the service of natural desires. 

[year2000electronics]

whats your process of making stories for your characters?

plagiarism!

no in all seriousness though, a lot of it comes from me thinking, what do i want to see here?

the reckoning, of course, has that thesis statement that’s easy to pick up on: “what if a hero actually accepted a villain’s offer to join them?” and i built the rest of it up from there, the modern one at least (friends know that it went a little coraline-gotg2 at the beginning there). its a lot about fleshing out concepts and then creating characters that go into this concept... 

the second step is to make enjoyable characters, once i have a strong concept in place i can make characters! i take advice from a lot of big creators, which is that a story’s strong point should be its characters. its not really a secret that i get inspired by other characters for mine, but a lot of my characters are either so indistinguishable from their inspiration that they’re entirely new, or my own ocs... problem students, for example, has a lot of ocs that i took from franchises i wasn’t totally interested in having ocs for anymore (creed, isadora, and bridgette are some of those!), i placed them in this concept i came up with! the ‘hero school media but for villains’ idea came first, and when i was struggling to come up with a protag i was like ‘oh wait! there’s this kid i already love! shes perfect!!’ the process of having inspiration characters is also pretty long in and of itself, bc it takes ages to actually flesh them out as their own character and pluck out what exactly you LIKED about the original character so you can actively work on building a character w those traits instead of full-on copying

and after concepts and characters are finished, THAT’S when i start playing around with the story a little. dad quest came back, of course, but with darwin playing the role of beta asma (without the whole I BET SHE TOOK THE KIDS HUH thing lol), but also other, more strange installments started emerging from the concepts and characters put together (ie. the apocalypse setting spawned the town of eden for reckoning zero, the reckoning ii came from the loose end of marius), but also there’s other plot threads that get added in my other stories too, like between two chambers originally just being about steven travelling kingdoms, but then i decided to make gula and gadrielle team up, then added henshin, THEN added steven’s evil clone to the mix

anyways that got long but thats more or less how i do it?

[sup3rnaturalunkn0wn]

Love Island - The First Meeting

Love Island Part One: The First Meeting (925 words)

Summary: At you first match up ceremony you meet Dean Winchester and you’re instantly drawn to him. 

You stood nervously at the Villa poolside waiting for filming to kick off. Never in a million years would you have imagined you’d end up here. Sure you’d kind of hoped for it, wished maybe but a small part of you had put the application as a joke. It was something you’d done on a stupid whim, something you’d laughed at with your friends afterwards yet here you were.

Four other girls stood at your side, all seemed as anxious as you as some bounced on the heels of their feet while the others fiddled with their hands. You’d meet them briefly that morning, you’d quickly been introduced as the girls you’d been spending the next month with before being ushered into separate makeup rooms.

It didn’t take long for the production team to tell you they were ready for you and then suddenly a camera was in front of your face and the host, Demi Lovato, was stepping out with the first guy. He was cute, tall with jet black hair that framed his face well and piercing bright blue eyes that you knew you’d be able to see from across any room. He held a small sheepish smile as Demi explained that this would be your first official ‘match up’ and if the girls like what they saw they would simply step forward and the guy would pick from them.

“So darling, introduce yourself.” She smiled sweetly at him which made him blush a little. You noticed how he took a deep breathe before speaking.

“Hi my names Castiel, Cas for short.” His smile was catchy, his dimples adorable but you could tell he certainly wasn’t your type. Which was why when it was time you remained in your spot as the girl you could remember as Jo stepped forward.

“Well I guess we have our first match. Jo and Cas if you’d like to take a seat over there.” Jo caught you eye as she skipped over to him and you couldn’t help but grin. From what you’d seen of them they were complete opposites yet maybe that’s exactly what he needed to bring him out of that shell he seemed to be hiding under.

When the next guy stepped out you felt your jaw drop slightly. He was tall, extraordinary tall with long shaggy brown hair and sense about him that made you feel safe.

“Ladies meet Sam.” He smiled, bright white teeth on show. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered a little longer on Ruby next to you. Not that you could blame him, she was absolutely gorgeous and so far the only real one you’d had some kind of connection with. “Girl’s you know what to do.”

Ruby stepped forward instantly without a second thought, Meg on your right following shortly after. You considered it but something deep down told you too keep waiting.

And boy were you glad you did.

Shorty after Sam had picked Ruby to be his match and the two sat down giggling like teenagers another man stepped out.

Just the mere sight of him was enough to make your breathe hitch and your knees go weak. He was handsome, beyond handsome. He stood directly in front of you, freckles littering his cheeks and glistening green eyes staring at each of you in turn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, you thought the whole concept was ridiculous but there was something about this stranger that drew you in. You just had to get to know him.

“Well ladies we couldn’t have one Winchester brother without the other.” Demi hand wrapped around one of his bicep’s and you felt a pang of jealously. “Met Sam’s older sibling, Dean.”

Dean.

You played his name over and over in your head, each time it sounding better than the last. When it was time to decide whether to step forward or not you did it without thinking. You felt another pang when Meg and Charlie followed suit and you suppressed a laugh at yourself. You were being an idiot, you knew nothing about this guy yet if he picked one of these other girls you knew it would upset you. You looked up from the ground to see him staring at you, only you and a blush crept up on your cheeks. 

“I think I’ve made my choice.” If his appearance wasn’t enough to make you melt his voice was. He extended his hand towards you and you quickly accepted it and allowed him to pull you into a hug. His scent flooded your senses and you were sure you’d never forget the smell. 

The two of you excitedly made your way to your seats, both smiling big. You were so engrossed with the whispered conversation you were having with, so intrigued by one another than you barely noticed Benny step out of the Villa until him and Meg were filling the seats next to you leaving Charlie to be matched with the final guy, Gadriel. It was Demi who finally forced your attention away from him. 

“Okay now that you’re all matched up my job is down and I’ll be going so you can all explore you new home, have fun guys.” She waved goodbye before slipping away and the whole crowd cheered like a group of school kids. You all practically jumped from your seats and ran towards the doors. 

Dean slipped his hand into yours and you felt your heart rate speed up. 

You hoped you’d made the right choice.

Forever Tag List: @fangirl1802 @padackles2010 @mogaruke @sydneymarie101195 @27bmm @green-days-american-idiot

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[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was ASMODEUS, a DEMON loyal to the cause of the DEMONS. He is said to be IMMORTAL and uses HE/HIM pronouns. In this New Testament he serves as a MEMBER of the VICES. Blessed be his name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

With his love burned away in the churning bowels of Hell, only desire could be found amidst the ashes of his ascension, from which smokey fistfuls had been taken and used to mold his gifts as the Vice of Lust. They grant him keen insight into the wants and desires of others, from their simple, momentary needs to their broad, burning dreams, which manifest to him in the form of a hazy aura that varies from one individual to another depending on the nature and intensity of their aspiration. Upon spotting it, Asmodeus is able to latch onto it and draw it towards him, absorbing an individual’s desires through that intangible link that binds him to them. He harbors them as though they are his own for as long as he remains in the presence of the individual, and it is possible for him to tap into the wants of several people at once, though it often leaves him weakened and overwhelmed. It gives him a sharp aptitude for manipulation, though it is a skill that Asmodeus has yet to harness, lost as he is in the heady fulfillment of chasing the passion that he doesn’t believe he could conjure for himself; not while his murky, mortal past continues to loom over him.

THE HISTORY.

He had been ancient long before he was a creature of divine might; immortal long before his days were elevated from a scatter of fickle, finite grains of sand to a sea of limitless, ever-flowing time, poured onto a bed of tomes and scrolls and stretches upon stretches of knowledge that marked his existence from the moment he had first drawn his breath -- to the moment it was stolen from him. Such was all that could be expected of a man born into the cradle of history in place of a mother’s embrace; a man weaned on the dusty tang of buried knowledge and unearthed discovery until it was more familiar to him than the milk of the breast. Full with knowledge and heavy with history; that was how he had always felt. He was every bit his mother’s son in that sense, as she was a woman who coveted the dead, the decadent, and the divine with vigorous fervency, grasping and marveling at the age-scattered traces of it as though they were the slivers of moonlight that ruled her night sky. She had once been a scholar not unlike any other, but then came a time when her guiding light cast a long, all-encompassing shadow that soon stretched along until it was draped over not only the remainder of her life, but also the life that her son would set out to have. It was an encounter with a creature of the beyond; an angel who had saved her life.

It had occurred long before he came into his mother’s life, yet he might as well have been present in that fateful moment from how prominent it was throughout his upbringing. A simple, fleeting teeter along the needle-thin divide between life and death, and an unseen hand to right the spirit and restore the balance. Such was all that it had taken for his mother to launch into a wide-eyed search for the world beyond; curious and ravenous as she sought after the impossible truth that had gripped her arm and lurched her out of the path of her doom. Engulfed in his mother’s fixation and love in equal parts, he grew to harbor acceptance and appreciation for her divine quest, along with no small amount of intrigue, compelled as he was by the inquisitive nature they shared. Yet while his mother clawed at the sky in search of purchase and purpose alike, he remained rooted to the earth, hands skirting along in humble exploration of what was around him and within reach. He led a simple life and toyed with simple desires, and once he finally found his place alongside the person he was meant to share it all with, he was as content and fulfilled as he could ever hope to be. The molten tinge of happiness was the only taste he lingered on from that moment on -- up until his tongue grew rotten with it. After all, the only certainty within the mundane, mortal world was the end of things, and the inevitability of that end -- and he would soon learn just how heavy and costly that lesson could prove itself to be.

Nothing beautiful was ever left untouched. A cruel wisdom often bestowed upon those who were least deserving of it, and one that not even his hallowed happiness was an exception to; quick as it was to fall victim to it -- right alongside his precious, powerless partner. Infallible as she was, it was only natural that, of all things, it would be illness which brought her to heel; and how brutal it was as it tore her down. Before their accursed stars could even breathe the spark of a future into their life together, his beloved was withering away into nothing, reduced from a looming, unconquerable pillar to a smattering of rubble arranged piteously along their bed, overtaken by fear and fever and more blood than either of them could hope to wipe away. Even when there was nothing left to be snuffed or faded, there was no peace to be found amidst the emptiness. Instead, she spent her frail final moments with her hands wrenched into the front of his clothes, gaping eyes boring into his and bloodied lips stumbling over her whimpers and pleas. Strange, unfamiliar superstition had addled her in her few remaining weeks, consuming her with awareness of her sins and conviction of the suffering she was owed for them -- yet there was no measure for the way it sank itself in as she was being ripped away from him. He would never forget it, the sight of her bulging eyes, no more than an inch away from his; the bruises from her knuckles, purple and pummeled into his sternum; the splatter of her blood against his face, scorching hot then instantly frigid as her screams sputtered away. The horror of it would go on to haunt him; well beyond the sudden, shocking drop of her silence. Beyond her passing and his grief and his revival. Beyond time and history and all the meaning in the world.

Gripped by his beloved’s harrowing farewell, he set out to earn her in death the peace and rest that she hadn’t been given in life. He threw himself into his mother’s studies, determined to find out if there was truly such a thing as a celestial realm; if Hell was truly an existent, tangible pit to which his partner was now bound for all eternity. Tied to her memory as strongly as his mother had been bound to the trace of her elusive guardian, he pored over her readings and scoured her manuscripts, searching and grieving and seeking until at last, he came upon his holy grail -- a map which supposedly led to one of seven earthly entryways into Hell. He set off for it, hoping to come upon closure and comfort at the dead-end that he was certain to walk into. Yet as he ventured into the teeth-speckled cavern splayed out before him, all he knew in the end was fire and ache and an abrupt, juddering sense of emptiness as though he were a dead star, spent and swallowed upon implosion. Then he opened his eyes and spread his newfound wings -- and thus he became Asmodeus, a damned soul made into a divine beast, revered for his boundless will in hunting after Hell and sought after for his sensuous, alluring insight into the wants of others. In place of grief, desire was the moon crowning his rebuilt sky; and if he lost himself in the desires of others only in ceaseless, desperate attempts to conjure up a passion of his own, such a crucial detail was of no value when the New World was laying itself out before him. It was due to either fill him up until he mustered a frail imitation of the hope that he had once known, or leave him overbrimming with stolen wants and insatiable hungers. Whichever fate awaited him, Asmodeus would chase after it. After all, he was meant for nothing but the inevitable.

THE CONNECTIONS.

ARIANNE ALTIER: Vision. To be consumed with her ambition was the grandest, most satiating endeavor. From the moment Asmodeus had brushed past its scathing, gold-infused aura, it had left an intoxicating, inescapable trace on him, burrowing into his bones and sealing him within its grasp. He was an entirely different person when caught in the thralls of Arianne’s aspirations; confident, invigorated, powerful -- and he relished it. So much so that not only had he gone on to successfully lock Arianne into his ravenous pursuit, but he had also cultivated her belief that he had the will and the vision to propel her towards the heights that she so vigorously longed to reach. It was a lie that bore a heavy cost, and it was only a matter of time before Arianne demanded it in blood. Yet Asmodeus couldn’t find in himself to care. Nothing mattered aside from his escape from himself. Not even the grave risk of Arianne Altier’s wrath.

GADRIEL: Trace. The mere glimpse of her was enough to undo him, leaving his heart gnashing in his chest and his wings trembling at his back as he fought against the urge to take flight and let time rush in his wake until her visage grew frail and faded in his mind’s eye. She reminded him of his beloved, in her infallible strength and simmering sadness; in the slope of her lips and the cutting edge of her jaw. Like a flung handful of dust, the sight of her always seized his eyes in a flinch; sending them fleeing beyond closed lids and a tilted chin. It was torturous, how the beauty of the vision only lasted for a second before it was warped into a howling nightmare teeming with blood and pleas and humming, siren-like silence. He had once had hope of escaping the wounding memory of his past, but Gadriel had stolen it all away with nothing more than a skirting glance. He resented her for it, yet he was too daunted by the hauntings she drudged up to ever truly express that. He could do nothing but turn away and run, and someday she would follow. She was far too intrigued to stay away, he could sense it, and how he dreaded that inevitable collision.

VIKTORIA: Hook. She prowled around him like a vulture, though rather than seek to poke and prod at him until he was torn apart, she merely wished to pluck him from the ruins of his despondence and nurture him at the peak of her imperial nest. To have someone believe in him so vigorously when he couldn’t muster the thinnest sliver of faith in himself, it ought to have been an honor, an utter joy -- if only he couldn’t glean the selfish, unfeeling vision that Viktoria harbored for him. They didn’t know him, they didn’t care for him; merely perceived him through the veil of his hallowed gifts and nothing else. They wished to mold him in their image, and for no other reason than the pleasure of their own fulfillment. Asmodeus would not stand for it. He may be barren of hope, but he was not hollow of self-worth, and he believed himself deserving of a much better fate than to be someone’s pet, may they be as all-powerful as Viktoria or not.

ARAEL: Caution. She was a splinter of ice in his heart, the cold draft of her presence stirring nothing but dread and confusion at the uncanny serenity that breathed through her whenever he was near. Her aura was among the most volatile that he had ever witnessed, a whirlwind of apathy and rage, absence and revolt. Yet it was all overtaken by an eerie quiet when they were in each other’s presence, and for the life of him, Asmodeus couldn’t understand it; as the tranquility never seemed to extend to him, consumed as he often found himself to be by Arael’s seething aspirations. There were moments, fleeting, perplexing moments, when the bleeding quiet and the murmured words between them could almost be considered peaceful, yet it was always overshadowed by Asmodeus’ wariness. He was well aware of Arael’s infamy within the echelons of the angels, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive to her unprecedented pursuit, along with the divine influence that underlined their encounters. The angel didn’t display any willingness to provide him with answers, but Asmodeus vowed to seize them for himself.

Asmodeus is portrayed by Laith Ashley and was written by JEN. He is currently OPEN.

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, EMMA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF MAMMON.

Admin Rosey: There is something about Mammon that draws people in - but I know that they can be a very fickle character down simply because they are so utterly unique unto themselves. I really enjoyed the application because of the way they were outlined so meticulously, providing the exact understanding of Mammon that I very much longed to see. There was a certain disdain that was interwoven into everything, from the plots to the prose to the dialogue. The apathy that seemed to be teeming on the surface of things was absolutely delicious to eat up.This application was a fun read and I simply cannot wait to see how you develop Mammon along the way! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma

Age | 23

Personal Pronouns | She / Her

Activity Level | Decently active, at least once a week if I can get  my shit together!!! Always making the effort to stick and get replies whenever available! ( At the moment I’m pretty available but things might change in a couple of months depending on work and etc ) 

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | Rosey is a Queen and was like hey look I did something sexy and I clicked and I gasped and I agreed, she did do something sexy. And then I said wow and the rest of the team also did like magic and I was shook. And here I am now applying for the sexy. 

IN CHARACTER

Character | MAMMON 

What drew you to this character? | 

There is something so raw about a demon birthed from nothing - they are the epitome of emptiness, their existence almost synonymous to a black hole which I find extremely fascinating. They are greed, they are consumption, they devour all, eating away at others in physical tangible methods. Perhaps it is their cruelty that is ultimately a big part of what fascinates me - untangling the web of what makes them tick is yet another facet. I’d love to explore their mind and uncover the inner workings of their feral being. Their gluttonous ways and conquest to swallow those around them whole is chaos at it’s finest. The danger that glints in their eyes and the attitude that exudes from them is everything I could ever desire in a character. They’re also really hot. I mean Noma Han though. 

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

& I EAT UNTIL ALL IS CONSUMED | Mammon is a fickle creature who thrives in pandemonium. They tread a questionable line of self indulgent anarchy. Their arms are extended like the angels in mockery, writing their own fanatical laws that no one else could truly understand. Their madness thrives in their mind - their motivation always geared toward their own personal satisfaction. But what if the scale was to tip? Perhaps someone or something will catch the gleam in their darkened eyes. What if they too could live for more than the tool that was once wielded by others. Long accustomed to opulent luxury and gluttonous sin, never had they batted an eye at the politics swirling within courts. Yet for someone as hungry as they, was such mundaneness enough? What if they were to crawl past the line of humdrum satisfaction. What if they dove deeper into their instability - their appetite always growling for more. In a dog eat dog world, they had always been the one to voraciously guzzle first. Enjoying what existed was mediocrity and they were far more than that. With sharpened razor teeth, they know they can bite off more. Nothing would be too much to chew, for eating and taking was what they did best. Take and take until there was nothing left, ambition spirals to the damned heavens itself. 

HOPE? WHAT A PECULIAR CURIOSITY |  Accustomed to eons past of old tales whispered in their name, there is something tedious of Mammon’s life. While they have long been accompanied by their gourmandizing, they too seek out a spark of new excitement. Their bones creak, their jaw snaps at the thought of a new conquest - a new game. Perhaps a pursuit that is unexpected by all others - especially of demon kind. They have seen much and heard much and curiosity is like temptation itself. They too wonder of things like hope - entertaining the concept. They do not understand it as they have long been an inhabitant of the same old Hell. Yet even they tilt their head in interest. What is this so-called thing of wonder that has kept civilizations afloat? And it is this same twisted intrigue that has left their lips parted in bemusement. Will they succumb to it’s enigmatic mystery? What shall become of the creature who begins to understand? 

MONARCH OF PILFERED GOLD | A thief with a stolen crown, it is hardly an understatement to say that Mammon’s a selfish bastard. Anything that caught their eye was plucked by their greedy fingers by the right of their own claim. The excitement that coursed through their being elicits an ecstasy like no other. They will never forget the seal of death against Morningstar himself, oh how delightful it had all been. The sweet taste of bloodied victory is ever so ripe and thus this addiction to capture the same sensation thrusts them forward to chase it all over again. It was never enough for a being like Mammon who was carved from hunger itself. The pupils of their eyes dilate, looking toward shinier prizes - bigger ones that would make tidal wave changes. In their proud arrogant veneer, they mark their target in the back of their mind. Names and faces never forgotten as they seek to take one treasure after another. And perhaps the thrill of the game is only ever more exciting when the opponent viewed them as an enemy. It fuels the maniacal cackles that rip through their throat because what is theirs will be theirs. It would only take a matter of time before they conquered again and again. After all they took down the King of Hell, at this point - what else couldn’t they take? More is more. 

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS & PLOTTING  EXPLORATIONS 

GABRIEL ;  HOW SWEET IT TASTES TO INCITE YOUR WRATH | I really love the potential between Gabriel and Mammon as there’s undeniable heated tension. With him, Mammon feels the very sensation they have long been addicted to. The palpable hatred that lurks beneath Gabriel’s eyes lures Mammon closer - curious to see what would happen if they pushed further and incited an infernal fire. Undoubtedly I can see this dynamic burgeon into something both intimate and unspoken. For Mammon it is their newest game, their newest thrill ride to feel something and be seen. They will not deny themselves of the attention and want to bear witness to Gabriel’s promise of their destruction. ( I’m also here to see the angst ) 

“Destroy me if you can, desire me if you can’t” - Mammon 

ROMILDA ;  FOR THIS ONE’S DEMISE SHALL BE DELICIOUS  | Mammon and Romilda appear to be playing some game of cat and mouse which offers for some spicy ideas. For Mammon, they remain closeby like a voyeur peering into the windows of another’s life - perhaps others would perceive it as a God complex. But it is not stemmed out of arrogance or superiority, rather just another form of amusement for a creature as bored as them. They follow at her feet to watch what will happen because she is interesting and they’re nosy and want to know more. Perhaps Romilda will get sick of it? Who knows! ( I could see them being lowkey kind of obnoxious to Romilda. ) 

“Tell me a story and I’ll give you a show.” - Mammon 

REVNA ;  COME CLOSER INTO THE DARKNESS O FRAGILE ONE | To Mammon, Revna is like the perfect three course meal - so deliciously melancholic and on the verge of hopelessness. They keep her around close to keep her entrenched in her misery. It is also like the finale of a play, they await to see what will snap and send her spiraling - an event that will certainly incite their wicked glee. But Mammon believes themself to be merciful, kind even - giving her a choice to do as she pleases. They just merely amplify what she already believes. And I can’t wait to play that out - this is pretty much a parasitic relationship except Revna gets nothing out of it really. ( They’re the world's shittiest therapist tbh ) 

“The closer to the edge you are, the grander and greater the fall.” - Mammon 

GADRIEL ;  KNEEL BEFORE MY FEET AND BEG FOR MERCY | Mammon has never forgotten the events that had unfolded, a sickly sensation that sticks to the guts of their stomach. It is both a disgrace and a dishonor to have ever allowed such a thing to have occurred. They are not one to bury the hatchet - rather they hold onto it with a grip. I would like to see Mammon and Gadriel perhaps duel once again, mayhaps to the death? If anything this too can make for some good drama. Maybe Mammon will make a friend - or just die, anythings possible! ( They’re in denial that they’re kinda pressed and acting like it’s no big deal but you know deep down it's a big deal ) 

“An outcome must be decided; to the victor go the spoils.” - Mammon

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes! But I would also think it’s funny if people keep trying to kill them and they just come back like, bitch you thought. Just imagine the meme potential. 

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

AND IT BEGINS ( THE ORIGINS OF IDENTITY ) 

Largely much of Mammon’s natural instincts seems to center around the concept of “hollowness” or “emptiness” and in turn, it would be likely that they would like to share this void sensation of others, a cruel goal but for them - it is merely how they live. Perhaps another reason to pull others into their sphere of vacancy is the twisted amusement of watching others suffer. They are wicked and have never denied it so, and to share in such pain only feeds into their own warped sense of pleasure and indulgence. However even so, their identity remains a translucent nonlinear jumble of messes, one that they do not wholly understand and seek to untangle. Simply put, they are beyond unusual, strange even and given their long years of existence, have become bored of routine.

THE CHANGE ( A NEW GAME ) 

 And upon a frivolous whim, maybe they shall change it - or not, for they are as volatile as a child. But should change come, perhaps this will force them to act differently from the habits they have long been accustomed to. However, perhaps there is potential within their sinful avaricious vice to fall even deeper into the pitfall of hell. They have always been greedy in their collection of treasures. And surely objects have immense value but what if Mammon were to take it a step further? Breaking past the limits of inanimate items, their eyes may be set on an ever steeper goal. Their nurtured sadism bears fruit to cruel intentions; maybe it's time to take from the essence of humanity itself. It is people they wish to take from now; their hearts, their minds and even their souls. 

DANCING TO THE FINALE ( BOPPING TO NIGHTMARES ) 

They want to carve out the creature that breathes their sweet drink of life. Through veiled grins and snide chuckles, they seek to pull the strings of those they deem of inconsequential value. Upon invisible puppet strings, Mammon will play until they tire once more. For it is all just a game to someone who’s never truly ever had a reason to care. ( Born in the void, they become just as senseless the place they call home - it is a cold cavity that is all they have known. ) They live in their own world of selfishness and conceit, the world just a playground for devils to play. So they shall dance in the dark, picking one human target to another, rejoicing in the cries of anguish. And when the song shall end and the old rickety monster becomes exhausted, they will crack their wrists. It is then they will break the fools until there is nothing left. Again and again the routine shall be repeated. Because Mammon hardly understood life in itself; only ever the depths of shadows and death. 

Every word of hope and moral goodness consumed until by the black tar tongued of hell’s devil; and that is when the being is slaughtered, becoming just a husk of what they once were.  

ABRIDGED : Ok so like to sum up, Mammon’s just a big asshole and just wants to screw up other people because they’re mainly 1. Bored and 2. Why the hell not it’ll be funny. 3. Collecting trash is their hobby. They’re so self absorbed in themselves that I feel like in order for Mammon to be pushed toward some outside motivation would require them to either 1. Get friends or 2. To give a fuck about someone else ( to care - WOW ) But as of the moment any sort of motivation or goal just stems from their own wants or needs which rules above all else. They don’t want much in life at the moment besides hoarding, stealing, taking new shit and playing fake God if they can. Or just be that third person ominous narrator that’s super unhelpful but is there to give unnecessary input. Demons gotta do something to pass the time, right? 

Character Traits | 

Positive Traits 

Observant ; They have long had sharp pointed eyes - ones that watched the slightest ticks upon a visage, the subtlest movements of one’s gestures, the rhythm of footsteps of others. Mammon is a particular being who has long been watchful with a gaze that is both frightening as it is dangerous. But it is through their observations that fan the flames of mania. They play their games regardless of their opponent, their whims self serving first. 

Strategic ; A good player must learn the ins and outs of any game and it is one of the first things that Mammon has long gravitated towards. They pick their wars keenly, sometimes even merely satisfied with the knowledge that things shall work as they had planned. Execution is what they have done best and it takes more than sheer luck and power to finesses such precision. 

Clever ; Far from a moron, Mammon has always prided themselves in their intellect. However, exercising such wit often was a choice rather than a given. For the gluttonous demon celebrated their flaws far more than any of their redemptions. Only in dire circumstances would they ever apply themselves with the extra effort of thinking. Perhaps when a worthy enough challenge came along its merry way, they would finally exert their mind once more. 

Negative Traits 

Rapacity ; Mammon has always had a large appetite for intemperance. Both physical and metaphorical, they celebrate in the excess. The more they devour, the more satisfied they become. To them, boundaries are just suggestions. Their overwhelming need to take everything from everyone fuels them to function. Nothing could ever be enough. More was always better, and they live by these words on a daily basis. 

Sadistic ; They enjoy the thrill of crawling under the skin of both friends and foes. It is amusing to watch souls tortured and in pain, the sound of shrieks and cries are like trumpets to their ears. They rejoice in the reactions, cackle in the face of desperate pleas - they have long been accustomed to cruelty. Perhaps it is the infliction of pain that they themselves can understand human emotions; something so strange and foreign. For they themselves have long lived null and empty. 

Manipulative ; Silver tongued and clawed finger tips, Mammon is shrewd in their approach and sly in their tactics. They enjoy digging beneath the surface of what is seen and plucking out the weakest part of a flawed creation. Behind a face that may mask friendliness lies a sinister creature full of mischief and mayhem. They speak with lies, wearing deceit as their second nature. The craze they exude glints beneath the murky tar colored eyes. 

In-Character Para Sample  | 

EXCERPT 01: LUCIFERS FINALE. 

WHEN SINNERS FALL, DEMONS SHALL RISE

T R I G G E R - W A R N I N G : Implications of Violence, Death / Murder  

Morningstar, the king of Hell, how arrogantly he sits upon the throne of bones and emptied carcasses. His face is marred with arrogance; of kingly conceit that is forged from his own inflamed hubris. How pompous Lucifer appears - but perhaps it is the lens that Mammon perceives that weaves the tale which whispers of their questionable truth. 

But rewind -- it begins from the beginning. The one object that sat like an artificial halo atop Lucifer’s head; oh glory to the shiniest trophy of them all. It was all they ever wanted, clenched fists with fingers dug deep into their palms. Such a beautiful crown wasted on the being they thought most undeserving. 

Mammon had arrived late, birthed in the pits only then. They were nothing but a speck in the universe. Thus they knew, to be worthy of such a precious coronet, they needed to become something. Someone. Their worth must be equal to the item they wished to pursue - or so they once believed. 

And so the fateful day came and Mammon strolled within the gates. Head held high, arms swung side to side as their eyes followed the audience. From one head to another - oh the looks of dissatisfaction restrained at the edges of the crowd’s ugly visages. Mammon sensed it, felt the dissent looming through the room - like fog itself, murmurs could be heard throughout. But all of them were cowards, their heads still bowed lowly before the demon king himself. 

They greet the false King, a cockiness in their stride as they stand with informality, a grin crawling up their knife like features. There is a nonchalance in their posture, an indifference that seemed to agitate his royal hellness. 

“I have returned,” the voice thickened and dark. 

Mammon sees the rage, understands the ticking bomb that lies behind the devil’s veneer. But they did what they did best - they poked and prodded. 

“The world is a pleasurable place beyond the frigid walls of this palace. It seems that you have been forgotten, your name abandoned, forsaken,” Mammon sighs - their pupils never moving an inch away from the Morningstar’s head. 

“I suppose your ‘greatness’ is nothing compared to the man residing upstairs,” they mocked. 

Lucifer is silent but his cool rage could be felt. The stillness that fell could stop time itself. It was then he stood, fingers gripped at the arms of his wretched throne. His voice is a hiss, fueled with laughable jealousy. Words that only Satan himself could ever conjure slithered between the flaps of whatever made his mouth. 

But Mammon remained themself. Unflinching as they awaited - beckoned the fury to light brighter and brighter. They took a step, accepting a dare with the fates. And it was then that they had crossed the line, the servants of Morningstar thrusting them upon their knees. 

They had trekked into uncharted territory - detonating the wrath of the top Devil. A small smile appeared on their face. It was all a joke. But the glee that curdled through their rickety bones brought forth the satisfaction they had gambled for. How sweet was the taste of Lucifer’s anger and jealousy - they could eat up more -for it was aromatically delicious. 

The pits of Tartarus were nothing for a creature like them. They would claw their way out as they had done once before. How amusing it all was, they had stepped on the toes of a ‘supposed king’ who’s envy entrapped him. It was confirmed in that moment that Mammon who had wandered the planes with a trail ablazing, they had become something more. They left once but they’d swore they’d come back for more.

A KING NO MORE 

And so they returned. Indifference worn upon the husk humans called a face. Their decision never came from a place of justice or hatred. No, it was the one fixation that they had long desired. And the only way for them to ever get such a prized possession was to chop it from the head of the wearer. 

It was a merry day for a remorseless killer. 

They spun to the tune that played in their head - the haunting whistle that made their feet tap to a jig. It was the mighty king of hell’s turn to have a taste of damnation. Perhaps somewhere the Angels would have sung for Mammon's praise. But whether the pasty holier than thou freaks did or didn’t, they didn’t give a fuck. 

Mammon wanted what they wanted. Blade in the grasp tightly, exposing the whites of their knuckles. Today was the day to claim their very first love. ( Love? Obsesion? No, it was just another whim, another aimless desire. ) 

Swiftly they cut, quickly they shredded. It wasn’t long before the Morningstar was beheaded. 

In the bloody mess of whatever made the black hearted creature, Mamon ripped the crown from his head. Their fingertips stained with the colors of death, they place the object upon their own head. In the reflection of the glassy floor - they bear a smile, teeth exposed to show their mephistophelian smile. 

And yet the feeling is fleeting - as it always was. They had come and conquered but it was never really enough. The agenda was completed and their excitement gone. They looked at themselves once more, the grin fading. Their fingers gripped the item and threw it on the dirtied ground. 

A sigh of exasperation exited their lips, their back turned as they walked away. Onlookers bowed before them but they did not care. They had their fun and as routine, it was time for Mammon to find a new toy to play with. But before they vanished from sight as they were long accustomed to, they glanced back once more. An itch to feel the euphoric sensations that rattled their ribcage and howled beneath their flesh. 

Alas. 

It was just another fucking crown.

____________________________________________________________________________________

EXCERPT 02: THE UNKNOWN. 

IN MY PRESENCE, ANGELS SCREAM

It was him that they found a fascination like no other, an unsettling sensation that felt akin to perhaps what the humans may call alive. Mammon lurks within the shadows - not to close, just enough to see them. Enough to feel something within that jostled, reminiscent of a beastly heart. 

“I know you’re there.” He blinds like the sun. 

Mammon says nothing. 

It is then that Gabriel makes his approach. Oh glory to a walking God. Each step ringing like the bells of divine retribution. But Mammon does not waver, nor do they run. They welcome it, their lips curling at the corners. 

“I am here oh sweet fair haired angel,” their words spiteful. “Vanquish me if you truly dare.” It is then that they too walk into the light. They should have burned. But darkness consumes all, absorbs all and takes all. 

Gabriel does not speak. But his gaze does not fall. 

LOVE AND HATRED ARE SAME SIDES OF PASSION

It is Mammon's turn to take the stage and so they do. They walk closer, enough to taunt the other. They delighted in the seething temper that boiled beneath. His hatred was like no other; he bears witness to Mammon’s full depravity. It is Gabriel who seems to understand the monstrosity of what they are. And it is in this fragile perverted supposed understanding that pulls Mammon closer. 

“You have cultivated your sainthood, your goodness,” Mammon remarks. “But isn’t that your purpose? The will of accursed God all too shitty. But you see Gabriel - I am like you too. It is just merely a difference in … design,” words hissed with pitch black mirth. 

Their finger is pointed at them. 

“For you, they strove for righteousness.” 

“They gave you light. Nurtured you with warmth.”

“Your existence was a predestined fortune.” 

There is ridicule dripping from their words. No bitterness, no care - just vacant rambles and little thought - a pretend of emotion conducted for theatrics. They raise their arms to the sky, their middle fingers pointed. 

“But I was made as an omen, an example of all things terrible.”

Their arms dropped as their focus returned to one of God’s original favorites.

“They made me hungry.”

“They made me wretched.”

“For all the love and praise you fucking angels sing, how imperious for your kind to judge.” 

Mammon closes the distance, their mouth upturned like a risen half moon. 

“Doesn’t it pain you to know that our fallen creator had us all cut from the same cloth? Despise me should you wish but do not deny that even you, pure and good, harbor something as foul as hatred.” They laugh - cacophonic delirious cackles of a madman facing death. 

Mammon stops - in the quietness their head tilts, a sneer pulling at their lip. 

“Kill me if you choose but it’ll make you no better than the Devil.”  

____________________________________________________________________________________

Extras | 

HEAD CANNONS 

WINGS : I’ve always imagined that Mammon would have wiry or metal looking wings? Like it would be sharp and mimic spare parts or just trash, almost as if they had made their wings by hand. I’m specifically picturing the creepy hand from the “Other Mother” in Coraline but imagine the material as wings ( reference here ) 

FOODIE : I think it would be funny that they’re somewhat of a fancy connoisseur of food. Well food and perhaps anything else that they can put in their mouth. I feel like their standards of what can be eaten really is at a low bar. They would be down to just chew on some dirt and be like “wow the flavor in this silt soil can not be compared to clay.” Seems like the type of thing Mammon would be into. Probably would overshare and even attempt to encourage others to try whatever the hell they’ve decided to swallow that day. 

TRENDSETTER : Given that Mammon likes to take a lot of shit and probably has the attention span of a child, I don’t think they’d be wearing the same outfit on repeat ever. I also feel like they’d be the type to put on a plastic bag and then call it high fashion and maybe people would believe them? Or not - I mean the choice is simple, nod or choose death I suppose. I also see them being a big fan of sunglasses just to be dramatic when they toss it off to really emphasize how crazy and fucking wild they truly are. Also I could see them just being dramatic for no good reason with a little bit of a flair for theatrics. 

WEAPON: Perhaps Mammon’s weapon of choice would be akin to something that looks like a Scythe? Or maybe they’re the type that would keep a handful of sharp blades on them, I could definitely imagine them playing with a butterfly knife and doing tricks with it since they’ve had hours upon hours to learn and fuck around. I could also see them picking up other people’s weapons and going like “well that's nice, going to add it to my collection. This one would be great for some good old stabbing.” 

MUSIC : Despite being kind of a silent type, Mammon secretly is the type to be into a lot of music??? Especially when they’re doing some dirty business or like kicking someone for being a buckethead, I could imagine them jamming to some sweet tunes while doing the ass kicking. Maybe they’ll whistle too. Here’s a scene from American Psycho whis is the inspiration I got behind this ( reference here // trigger warning: murder + violence + blood ) 

OTHERS

PINTEREST |  MOCKBLOG 

ENDNOTE: Thank you for reading through my application! Just wanted to say that you guys did such a great job with the roleplay. Whether I’m accepted or not, I had a lot of fun writing this & exploring the character so thank you! ♥

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ADRI! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF GADRIEL.

Admin Rosey: There is a tender violence that I’ve always identified with Gadriel. An incredibly tender violence that I was afraid could not be captured because it is something so specific to Gadriel. But Adri, you captured it so effortlessly, wove it into every detail that there was in the application, and made Gadriel absolutely shine with it. Your plot points are so enticing, Gadriel’s voice is so enthralling, and the driving factor of love throughout it all is palpable. This was such an incredible joy to read, I can’t wait to see how you absolutely decimate each and every one of us with her! Welcome to the incredibly dysfunctional family of angels! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Adri

Age | 22

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | Well, we can’t really leave the house right now, so I’ll be here more often than I’d like to admit. I can commit to at least 2-3 replies a week.

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group?  | Promos everywhere!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Gadriel

What drew you to this character? | 

The first thing that captivated me was Gadriel’s faith and devotion. Such faithfulness plants itself in the red of her heart, an emotion so fierce she struggles to give name to. It sinks into her ribs as the sharpest of teeth devour her with a ferocious kind of ease, but no living soul can ease her hunger. Gadriel only starves for the touch of one—God. Still, she is his humble servant, his devotee, and memories of Him are embroidered in her mind like the softest of silk. He, her pointed needle of the compass, He, her guiding light, and though the other angels have cast Him aside, Gadriel has not forgotten. Nor will she ever.

Admittedly, her arrogance, that darkness that has begun to creep in, and how selfish she can be fascinates me just as well. A specific line that stood out to me while reading her biography was “She paid no mind to the earth that she had once come from, nor did she care much for the mortals that continued to suffer and bemoan the hardships that God allotted to them.” Gadriel knelt at her altar, her eyes glimmering with tears as she pleaded with her maker to encompass all who worshiped him in earth-shattering tenderness and light — but as wings sprouted from her back and God haloed her in love, Gadriel abandoned them. In truth, there was no tenderness and light for those who littered the earth — only disease and despair, and it was all her maker’s doing.

Perhaps if their commitment had been as fervent as hers, God would’ve blanketed them in love and adoration, too, but she understood that she held a special place in His heart. That He favored her above many, and to vie with her for such love would’ve been in vain.  

But then, there’s also this soft golden light that sputters from her heart in the name of love and passion. Everyone catches a glimpse of the spark that lights behind Gadriel’s eyes, it’s unparalleled, and her heart sings like an orchestra of angels every single time an abundance of words fall from her tongue’s tip. Such fervency, such love has liberated her twice now, and though He’s been reduced to nothing more than a heap of bones, Gadriel believes it to be His doing. Even in death, He takes her in his warm embrace and saves her from the depths of the abyss. He, her pointed needle of the compass.

As for love, there’s this deep-rooted desire for such emotion to chew at the red of her heart and sink its teeth in. It has failed her an innumerable amount of times though, hasn’t it? Once as a mortal, in her proclamation of love for God. Once by her own brother-in-arms — persecuted for an unbridled amount of loyalty and sweet devotion. Yes, it has failed her, but Gadriel had been gifted such love, if only for a moment. She reveled in God’s warm words of praise, selfishly indulging in how he favored her above most. At last, he’d seen her. In truth, that had always been a small part of it  — being seen. Gadriel’s love for her Father had been unyielding, heavy, all-consuming, and though it has brought her a great deal of pain, it has also gifted her a great amount of joy. Perhaps she’s all too eager to feel that again. 

This got away from me, but, in short, Gadriel’s complexity has captivated me, and I couldn’t be more excited to tug at the thread of yarn and watch her unravel. 

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

YOU ARE HAUNTED LIKE EVERY OTHER HOLY THING. WHAT TRIED TO DESTROY YOU DIDN’T HAVE THE STRENGTH: Memories fade like a hazy mist, but Gadriel still tastes the tang of blood that coated the tip of her tongue, she still senses the abundance of grief that ribboned around her neck and cocooned her in a tangled web of sadness — that hasn’t faded, and she sits with such sorrows until she fears she’ll choke on it — even then, it simmers beneath the surface, eager to claw its way to the highest peak and pounce. Perhaps she’s in search of that last moment before her final breath when she surrendered. When she let go and allowed His gentle hand to guide her into the arms of an angel. Perhaps it’s His tender love and understanding that she craves, and this is where Caphriel comes into play. I believe it would be quite interesting for Caphriel to gift her what she desires: remembrance. In truth, I am unsure if this will ease Gadriel’s grief or increase it tenfold, but I do know that it will allow her to feel what she hasn’t been able to in so long — Him.

DO NOT LEAVE YET. LET ME REARRANGE THE WORLD FOR YOU: There’s this ferocious desire to shape the green of the earth into a state of absolute serenity, into a world where blessings and benedictions are whispered from ear to ear, into a world where pure rapture and peace mark the depths of her soul. Gadriel even wants to take it a step further and mold the earth into somewhat of a shrine for her maker. They have forgotten Him, just as they’ve forgotten her, and she believes this to be their greatest sin. She aches to make them remember. God would shelter her in his warm embrace and whisper words of wisdom— There’s always work to be done and little time to rest, sweet Gadriel, and now, without Him here to sculpt and shape, Gadriel promises to carry out His plan of action for Him.

In truth, Gadriel simply yearns for a replication of the holiness of Heaven, but she also yearns for a world without Michael. If not for them, she wouldn’t wander the earth aimlessly, full of sorrow, lost without her creator. If not for them, she would still have her wings. If not for them, there would be no need for her own vision of beauty. She despises how eager Michael had been to be put upon a pedestal and worshipped as a pseudo-god, how they trampled upon His legacy and attempted to tarnish all that He’d built. She has restrained for so long, but perhaps it is Gadriel who’s meant to bring Michael (and all those at fault for this treacherous war) to justice. Perhaps this New World is a chance to parrot her Father and do her own shaping and sculpting. 

HOW POWERFULLY I CARRY HER WITH ME. MY GRIEF IS TREMENDOUS BUT MY LOVE IS BIGGER: If the rippling of the waves threaten to pull Arael underneath, Gadriel will be her guiding hand. If Arael lingers on the brink of darkness, Gadriel promises to be her beacon of light, and when she discovers comfort in her tender embrace, she’ll soon find that she was never really lost at all. The two of them are well-versed in a tremendous amount of loss and sorrow — it was what brought them together to begin with, tethered by a little red string of fate, and I can see the two of them assisting one another in their search for justice. Gadriel would never thieve away Arael’s opportunity for revenge, but she would support her in such endeavours, and I would like to see Arael aid Gadriel in her little quest for bringing Michael to justice. Love does that, doesn’t it? It steals your focus, skews your reality, and at times, forces your hand. There isn’t anything Gadriel wouldn’t do for Arael, and perhaps here, with her, is when the viciousness begins to eat away at her soul. Perhaps with Arael, that simmering anger sinks its teeth in the red of her heart. With Arael, there is nothing Gadriel’s able to conceal. She gets the best parts of her, but she doesn’t hide the ugly parts either. Similar to how she saw her maker, in Gadriel’s eyes, she can do no wrong. But those who’ve wronged Arael? She doesn’t believe she has it in her to be as forgiving. Gadriel lost the one she held most dear, and at times, she feels as though she has failed Him. She will not fail Arael. If justice and revenge happens to be the only way she can go on, then so be it. We all deserve that, don’t we? Justice? And in truth, there’s no doubt in her mind that Arael would do it for her. If Gadriel is her beacon of light, then Arael must be the steady beating of her heart.

BUT I NEVER FORGET. I’VE ENGRAVED YOUR NAME ON THE PALM OF MY HANDS: Gadriel hardly remembers anything from those final moments when she hovered between life and death, but she does remember a blissful sort of peace that could only be categorized as something divine. She remembers feathered wings caressing her, lifting her towards the heavens. There, she only saw one creature: Him. Nothing else mattered, and why would it? It was He who saved her from such savagery, it was He who granted her the rare gift of being reborn into an angel. Gadriel was (and still is) so consumed by the love her maker bestowed upon her, that she could hardly focus on any of the others. She was safe. Full of joy. At peace. But now here on earth, I think it would be interesting if Gadriel found herself shadowing her savior whenever the opportunity arises. Perhaps she promises them that these are nothing more than chance encounters, but in truth, she does her best to seek them out. There’s this undeniable pull, and when she’s around them, she feels at ease. She doesn’t know if this is another way to feel tethered to her maker, but I do think to some degree, now that she’s no longer able to worship God the same way she used to, she’s looking for someone else to praise. Not as another God, and in no way would it be to the level she adores and devotes herself to Him, but I know she misses it dearly — she misses someone who sees her. Someone who understands. Who better than the angel who rescued her from such monstrosity? I could see this turning into some sort of obsession, but whenever Gadriel catches the eye of the angel, she has a hard time letting go.

I AM NOT SO EASILY KILLED AS YOU THOUGHT: SO FIRMLY AM I A PART OF YOU: It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? Michael punished her for her worship and devotion to God by ordering her to be a safeguard to the new God’s mouthpiece. Gadriel should loathe the seer, what with her reverence and worship for the Hundred-Eyed God, but for all of their differences, the two share a world of similarities. Unwavering faith, a copious amount of resilience, and an eagerness to shape this New World into something more. Not only do I want to tap into the softer side of their dynamic, but I also want to sink my teeth into the darker parts. Yes, Gadriel attempts to keep their interactions as professional as possible, but she is an emotional creature, and she hardly knows how to bite her tongue. There are times when she denounces the Hundred-Eyed God in Isolde’s presence, and her self-righteousness clouds her judgement. I am eager to see how this will unfold between the two of them — How will Isolde, someone who’s primarily meek, handle such an offense? Yes, a part of Gadriel’s hesitancy not only stems from her resentment towards Michael for putting her in such a situation, but I do believe that she’s afraid Isolde will attempt to poison her heart with this new religion, tempting her to stray from her own faith.

Isolde has extended the olive branch countless times, and now, I want Gadriel to fight for her. Not in battle of course, that is something she would do without question, but I want the clouds of resentment to clear and for her to give in. None of this is Isoldes fault, Gadriel’s well-aware, and sometimes, when Isolde’s sweet laughter perfumes the air, when a gentle smile blossoms upon her lips, she almost convinces herself that this could be a blessing as opposed to a form of punishment. I believe that despite the stone Gadriel encases her heavy heart in, when she’s around Isolde, a small part of her wants the seer to continue to chip away at it. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? Gadriel yearns to be seen, but when Isolde peers into her eyes, she can hardly stand on her own two feet. But there’s always that lingering fear. There’s always that voice in the back of her mind — If she allows Isolde to bury herself inside of her heart, if she relents, would that not be the greatest sin of all? Would it not be hypocritical to bring justice upon Michael for tarnishing His good name whilst allowing Isolde, the All-Seeing Priestess, to make a home of her bones? God may have fallen, but Gadriel feels as though he lives on through her. If she forgets, if she turns her back on him, who else will spread his words of praise? But I want to see her break all of her rules for Isolde. I want Gadriel to take her into her arms, bare her soul, and surrender. I want her to admit that she no longer guards Isolde out of obligation, (eventually) but because she would turn to ash if she lost another she holds dear, because she wouldn’t know herself without the seer next to her. But is Gadriel willing and able to put her love and devotion for God aside so this relationship can come to fruition? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?

THERE IS AN ANGER IN MY SOUL THAT WANTS OUT. WE’LL SEE THEN WHO IS HOLY: In the midst of Gadriel’s sadness, her heart sings a ferocious song of anger and agony. Despite her sweet holiness, even as a mortal, it had cost her. She’d been sneered at, mocked, ridiculed, and even now, even as an angel, the cycle seems to continue. For so long, Gadriel has restrained. For so long, she has excused the sins of those that surround her, she has pardoned them, though they’ve hardly granted her the same courtesy. Now, she believes that many have used up all of her grace. Now, she fills with a raging sort of fire, but she does not glow. There’s a burning flame that roars inside of her, and it refuses to snuff itself out. When she looks at Michael, the fire blossoms into something fierce and she feels the darkness start to creep in — they’re to blame for it all: the war, God’s fall, her clipped wings, a title she didn’t ask for, and her anger. Gadriel only wants him to feel the pain that he has brought upon her. She wants justice — an eye for an eye, but again, she also wishes to live in a world where they don’t exist. Perhaps they aided in its rebirth, but earth is His creation — Michael does not deserve to revel in it. So that leaves her with two options: assemble those who believe in her cause and aid in Michael’s fall, or have mercy, chain them to their throne, allow them to live, but toss away the key. After all, that was what they wanted, wasn’t it? To be a king? But Gadriel has restrained for so long, and such mercy and courtesy has gotten her nowhere. In truth, the former option seems to appeal to her a lot more these days.

I’VE POLISHED THIS ANGER AND NOW IT’S A KNIFE: Gadriel adored the other angels, and I believe in the beginning, when she looked into their eyes, she felt nothing but sweet love and adoration. They fascinated her, but then again, she fascinated herself. As a mortal, they all doubted her, but Gadriel knew that someday she would walk through those pearly gates and cling to His holiness, but she never expected wings to sprout from her back and to be haloed in such favor. After God fell, when she looked at her brothers-in-arms, especially those who persecuted her, instead of gentle warmth, Gadriel felt a heavy wave of despair. In Heaven, she was blessed, loved, highly favored — here on earth, she feels shunned, ignored, invisible. But they’d seen her once, hadn’t they? 

I am extremely interested in navigating Gadriel’s dynamic with all the other angels. To pull from her biography, she believed that the warmth she once held for them would blossom again. She believed that, eventually, such resentment would fade into wisps of mist, but what if it doesn’t? Gadriel has given. She has extended her hand only to be met with hesitancy, and I think she’s tired. Not only is she tired, but she’s angry. She has answered for her transgressions with clipped wings. She has lost while they have gained, and still they don’t see her. Perhaps there’s a specific angel who has turned her away continuously. Perhaps there’s one who feels joy in relishing in her loss. Either way, I want Gadriel to snap. I want that darkness that has crept in to swallow her whole, and those who attempt to quell the fire will get scorched by the flame. 

Gadriel’s never been one to use her ability as a form of weapon unless her hand’s forced, but I think this is a last resort, and they have left her with no other choice. I don’t believe she would kill, not yet, because there’s still that softness that lives within her, but I do believe she wants them to feel what she feels: the weight of the world on her shoulders. She has been ostracized for far too long, and when they fall towards the core of the earth, then they will finally see her. 

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Eventually, someday, way down the line, yes. But not until I have a chance to develop her as much as possible, please!

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

As a mortal, Gadriel was driven by her powerful love and unwavering devotion to God. She had a clear and concise path: spread his word and shower those that surround her in his praise, lend sinners a helping hand and treat them as He would: with compassion. In her eyes, it was her duty to be a doer of the world, to give herself over to Him and allow His hand to guide her. As a mortal, there was nothing that she wanted more than His love. There was nothing more that she wanted than for him to see her.

As an angel, Gadriel is still motivated by her love for God, her holiness, and devotion. That will never change, but she’s also motivated by her vision of beauty — She has raised her sword, yes, but only when deemed necessary. Senseless violence and war is something that she refuses to allow to continue. She’s eager to stain the earth with God’s memory, and in doing that, Gadriel has to rid the world of imposters, of those who claim to be His successor. To put it plainly, she is motivated by her desire to get rid of Michael. As for the Hundred-Eyed God, Gadriel hopes that once her vision comes to fruition, once she spreads His word, those who litter the earth will see that their worship for them is nothing short of a mockery.

Love is a huge motivator as well: her love for God, her love for her faith, her love for the world He created, and especially her love for Arael. Without her, the world would be full of grey, and to keep the one she adores safe, she would do unspeakable things. But that’s just it — with love, she doesn’t shy from the darkest parts. She doesn’t delude herself into thinking that she’ll be free of grief and suffering, but that’s a part of it, isn’t it? If you have grieved, you have loved. 

But then, there’s also another side to it, love, and it’s simply to be seen. Her vision of beauty isn’t entirely selfish, but it will grant her something that has been missing since the fall of God — being visible. For so long, Gadriel has been ostracized, ridiculed, punished for her adoration, almost painted to be some sort of villain, but once she spreads the word of God, once she revitalizes the world with her vision, they will have no choice but to look at her. As a mortal, she died a horrific death, yes, but it brought her Him. After all those years of worship and praise, he finally saw her. She can only hope it’ll be the same with her brothers-in-arms once she repaints the world. 

Character Traits | 

POSITIVE

Loyal, Passionate, Honest, Observant, Sympathetic, Calm, Resilient.

NEGATIVE

Uncompromising, Selfish, Haughty, Assertive, Blunt, Vengeful.

In-Character Para Sample | 

Her eyes open slowly, tendrils of light so beautifully bright, and Gadriel stares for only a moment. She stares at the wisps of clouds that drift across the blue sky, she stares at the pond’s rippling water, she stares through Heaven’s gates and back again, and at long last, their eyes meet and she stares at Him.

“My sweet Gadriel.”

Her heart overflows with the sweetest emotion as she stands on her own two feet, and she feels the gravity of His hand calling out to her with an enormous amount of love. They deemed her foolish as she knelt at her altar, singing sweet praises and memorizing every note as an innumerable amount of prayers settled upon her tongue’s tip.

But they were the foolish ones, Gadriel thinks, with their sin stained touches and unholy phrases that fell from their wicked tongues. They deemed her foolish, but as her heart sputtered and Gadriel drew her final breath, He granted her sweet deliverance, and though she hardly remembers a thing, out of all the ways to meet one’s end, perhaps this was her favorite.

 “I’ve waited for you for quite some time.”

His words are blanketed in eloquence and grace, and Gadriel takes a single step forward, her thoughts a river of holiness and shattering light as she looks at Him, but she soon realizes that her vision is blurred. A crease forms between her brows as she lifts an unsteady hand to sweep against the corner of her eye, and once Gadriel pulls away, she sees her fingertips wet with tears. 

Wordlessly, a small smile marks the loveliness of her face as a gentle wave of peace floods her heart. It takes her a moment to understand that she’s crying. If not for the clouds of mist that obscured her eyesight, surely Gadriel wouldn’t have noticed. “They promised You would forsake me, but my faith never dulled.” she states, accompanied by the gentle shake of her head as her words bleed an overwhelming amount of passion. “They made every effort to coerce me into reveling in their unholiness, but I would not give in. I refused.” 

“I never expected anything less, my child.” 

He looks at her with such esteem and an abundance of adoration that Gadriel feels as though she could float amongst the white of the clouds, and though it takes a moment, she soon realizes she could if she wanted to. God had granted her the greatest gift of all: wings. Rounded and muted in color, she reaches out with ease, allowing them to brush over the palm of her hand and settle on the tips of her fingers. They tremble with great emotion as she basks in the eternal peace she’d always longed for. “Why?” Her eyes collide with His own as she begs for clarity.

But Gadriel knows why.

Her faith never diminished and her devotion never wavered. When she sat alone in a deep sorrow and a sort of hopelessness blanketed her soul, Gadriel didn’t stray. She refused to seek sin, she didn’t feast on what would never fill her — she simply sat and waited for God to extend his gracious hand and deliver her from such misfortune, and he did, time and time again. He’d seen her. Gadriel knows why, but she longs to hear Him say it.

“You have done what I have always asked,” God says. “Lived and died by your faith.”

The faint taste of blood melts upon the tip of her tongue as Gadriel presses her fingertips to her lips. She peers up at him with great reverence, and the spark that lights behind Gadriel’s eyes is unparalleled. “For you, I would do it a thousand times over.”

Extras |

Prior to their clipping, Gadriel believed He blessed her the most beautiful wings: feathered tufts muted in tone, tawny with speckles of honey, broad but not overbearing. They were mellow, grounded — just like her. But now, they give off a slight luminescence where they used to sit and there’s a permanent sort of heaviness that weighs on her back.   

Gadriel’s style is sharp and cutting edge, especially when it pertains to her armor. Though sheer and breathable pieces are nice and remind her of her time in Heaven, she gravitates towards bits that can be styled/attached to her garments to mimic the shape of her feathers and wings: metal, gold, and platinum. 

QUOTES

"God, God, what do I do / after all this survival?" — Traci Brimhall

“Grief is a large animal, selfish and angry, howling of its own hunger, its own ache.” — Aditi Nagrath

“Over time, loneliness gets inside you and doesn’t go away.” — Carlos Ruiz Zafón

“Holy foolishness that marked the saints.” — Caroline Walker Bynum