#his cards killed someone wholly innocent because they were too close to the cards. because then it frees him of a guilt he can't

[omarwolaeth]

Sometimes I think about how the natural energies might not have been as clean cutting as we're lead to believe, and how Yuuya and Yuzu might not be the only split-soul existences, entirely because of a blast radius that neither Ray nor Leo knew about if the En cards ever went off.

[sinnhelmingr]

aloe, belladonna, fern, sage for DS Hel // @royal-dragonslayer-ornstein​​

ALOE : how does your muse handle grief ?

Honestly? Very, very differently from how others seem to process it. Especially when younger, given her life being built around the tending of the dead and that in their dark rest they know peace. For a long while, Hel saw no reason for lamenting death, knowing what lay beyond, though she understood it hurt others to have their time with a loved one cut short. This actually bit her in the ass at one point in an ask with a Gwynevere in that she got chewed out for not showing due contrition over the loss of others.

It took forging many bonds in the world beyond that she began to understand grief -- especially, I think, at the loss of Artorias. His death was meaningless, and cruel, and wholly avoidable, and there was nothing to celebrate in his passing. Lost to the Dark, there was surely no peace for him. I think that cut her the most deeply at first, and the impact his death had on those he left behind. It was only later on, when alone to think on it of her own accord, that she registered she missed him, and she wished he had come back after all, and that was her first brush with personal grief.

Even so, it has been fleeting in her life. She’s more likely to echo it as per decorum than truly feel it. When Gwyn died, she was more upset for his children than the loss of the king. She grieved that the king never appreciated his youngest as she should have been appreciated, that he never made amends with his firstborn, that he pushed such responsibility onto his already struggling eldest daughter. She grieved his failings and their impact, not his death, a secret she keeps close to the chest knowing how further deified the godfather has become in the centuries since.

I think this silent sense of grief for lives unlived deepens once she takes on Nito’s dominion and is further separated from others. Others will die, in time, god and human, king and beggar, all passing into what is now her keeping -- but she never will. She will stand and watch all things fall, and in the dark of the grave all will be reunited. Her grief is exhausting then, to watch old friends enter her dominion without a word, to see children she once doted upon be broken and put out of their misery during the final sputters of the light. In its final form, her grief is unexpressed but it is powerful, and she presses on because someone must when the rest are gone.

That said, at it’s deepest, Hel is seen to express her grief violently. For a brief period in the story, she’s openly gunning for the Undead after they kill Nito, pulled back from claiming them permanently only by their own undying nature and the firm rebuke of the Dark Sun. In turn, the loss of her beloved, even though they had been separated for at least a few decades, is expressed in the fact she’s hunting members of the Church of the Deep for sport. Just a widow and her scythe, demanding blood black as ichor for divine blood as if it can ever measure up. 

BELLADONNA : how does your muse respond to silence ? do they take comfort in soundlessness , or seek to fill the void with noise ? 

It depends on the situation, honestly! Silence is sort of the resting state of her home, where ones duties as a servant of the Graves should be done peacefully and with care taken not to disturb the dead. This manifests in a lack of light and treating the deceased with a sort of hushed reverence so their rest will be as comfortable as possible. The Fenito keep their work sacrosanct, though there are certain regions within their Lord’s dominion where the dead do not reach where japery and more open fraternization is encouraged. Even so, some of her siblings prefer to keep their silences, and so Hel is always comfortable with it. Silence, when comfortable or sacred, feels like home to her, and so she cherishes it.

However, she’s well aware that is the way of the Graves, and that the world outside is not beholden to such practices. Sometimes silences can be downright eerie even to her, a mark of the Darkness, a reminder of how far the splendor of a city has fallen. It can be an omen of violence past or present, or a mystery best left unpursued. In those moments, she might retreat from perceived threat as quietly as possible, or fill the still air with song or some other distraction from empty halls and paths. 

In the good old days, especially, she sought to fill silences, eager to ask questions and make merry and in some way belong to the world of Light and all its decadence. Laughter was her calling card then, and fast-moving feet as she fled from whatever innocent mischief she wrought in Gwyn’s hall. Yet she loved more than anything to make those around her join in her mirth, whether by word or deed, and so she coveted the sound of other voices, of approval in her actions.

FERN : does your muse believe in magic or cosmic forces , or are they more likely to think their life is ultimately a matter of their own control ? 

Magic is real and her dearest companion is a master of the craft. There are energies across all levels of the world which lend themself to those dedicated to their pursuit, and Hel thinks that’s actually pretty neat. Except for when it, like, drives the Paledrake mad or causes women to go missing in the night or -- Okay, maybe magic is far more a neutral force in this world. Neutral in that it falls to the wielder to decide what to do with it, rather than magic defining the user as some assume.

Hel is a staunch believer in accountability and the power of personal decision. be it in magic or life. She has, in the flow of the age, seen a lot of people do terrible things and then blame it on tradition, on necessity, on doing wrong for the right reasons. Perhaps due to her morality having developed separately from most surface-dwellers, she is very against the end justifies the means. Honestly the only reason she didn’t pull back from the plot to keep the flame burning sooner was just because the Undead needed to be dealt with, and at least this way the curse served some purpose. Notably, the second others spoke of using a living child as kindling she balked and abandoned everything she loved and called home after the loss of her Lord.

You can justify your choices through the Flame, through Gwyn, through your Covenant, through your orders, but at the end, all are left with how far they chose to go in that pursuit, and in that they must reflect and, if finally able to assert themself as more than pawn, atone. You cannot blame any force or power for personal failing, no matter if it might help you sleep at night -- or so Hel sees it.

SAGE : what is your muse’s legacy ? what do they want to be remembered for & what might they actually be remembered for ?

There’s actually a little headcanon title I gave Hel that really sums it up in certain time periods. Lunar Shadow -- that is, the shadow cast by the moon as depicted by Gwyndolin. She is the shade and mystery that clings fast to Luna in a lonely sky, the reflection of her will and power. Hel is never her lover’s pawn the way others accuse her, as shown in that she’s willing to butt heads with Gwyndolin on certain facets of the plan and her place in it, but she is inextricably linked to her all the same. Many will remember her as ally and acolyte of the Holy City in its twilight, bound to its cause like marriage vows.

In the golden age, however, she was the Mourning Princess, grey-clad and dust-soaked, a death that was both fair and welcoming. Others cossetted the strange creature, looked to her for amusement she, as already outlined, was all too willing to provide. Many godkin who fled will remember her for that, her good nature and sharp tongue, and a generous nature that adored even the most wretched creature that slithered across her host’s hall. The ending that most write is that she’s still in that city today, entangled in the arms and scaled limbs of that which she loved most dearly -- and for a time, they are not wrong.

Time shifts, however. In a far flung future, her Lord has been forgotten by all but her siblings, and she has risen to take Nito’s place. She’s revered as a goddess of death, Death-Who-Walks among the inhabitants of some far-flung land, black-clad and with a voice like song, ever-watchful. But Gods rise anew, in a land of snow and moonlight, and she is Queen, she is Beloved, she is the future of a people she never quite belonged to, the silk to glove her patron’s iron will. Her statues stand in the courtyards and palace, commissioned by one who loves her and wanted to depict what she saw as beauty. These stand even after that love has faded into opposition. And after her lover is gone, she is Avenger, Warrior, the Bane of heretics.

What I’m getting at here is that Hel’s legacy is different things to different people, from a stately queen of the dead to a curiosity in the eyes of gods. She’s the widow and divorcee depending on whose record you follow in her love life, and she’s both the hunter of heretics who spites the Church of the Deep and the vocal defender of a certain Prince’s choice to damn the Flame. She can’t really be neatly divided into simple lore because so much of what she is seems contradictory. That’s perfectly valid, too, as many that will be reduced to simple legacies were so much more than a condensed story as well.

All Hel wants, really, after she leaves the Land of Lord’s behind once there is no one left to tether here there, is to be remembered as someone who tried for others. Someone who fought for more than the legacy of a fool and the flame he coveted, someone who was able to see the bigger picture and hopefully leave an impact through her words and actions. But then, after all her life was over the extended age, I think the most she hopes for is to be forgotten and allowed to slip safely out of the narrative to make her own somewhere in the growing Dark.

[rowan-yourboat]

Pieces of Me

Who: Rowan & Charlie When: Saturday, August 21st Where: Pawsome Animal Shelter What: Rowan shares a primordial part of her life with Charlie. All fluff and mishaps. Warnings: None

Rowan was all smiles as she made her way down the hallways of Erickson. It was still early, perhaps unfairly so, as the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but she was a woman on a mission. At least once a month, she would make the short drive to the outskirts of Brighton, all so she could get to spend the whole day doing volunteer work at a local animal shelter. This time, though, she didn't fancy going alone, and an idea immediately popped into her head. She knew just the person to take along. Knocking twice on Charlie's door, she waited, a small smile still on her face.

Charlizard was having an intensely pleasant dream that involved Hollywood celebrities and deep pits filled with sharks when a persistent knocking noise pulled her from her slumber. Untangling herself from Morgan, she padded to the door in what could generously be called a tank top and opened it just wide enough to peek through the crack. "Row?" she rubbed her bleary eyes with one hand. "What's wrong? Building on fire? Please tell me the building is on fire."

Rowan chuckled at the, dare she call it, adorable sight. "No fires to report; thankfully. I'm here to ask you to go somewhere with me. If you don't have plans, of course." She was quick to amend, not wanting to come off as too pushy. They could barely be called friends, but Rowan had to come to accept that she truly enjoyed the blonde's company, even when said blonde did her best to push all of her buttons. "I know it's early and all, but I promise to make it worth your while."

Charlizard had to blink a few more times to make sure that she was awake and understanding Row properly, but once she'd digested the idea a sleepy smile tugged at her lips. "I'd like that." She didn't even ask what their destination was, something she would have done with just about anyone else. "Just give me five minutes to throw some clothes on and maybe run a brush through my hair. Want to give me any hints to help me decide what to wear for this trip?"

Rowan couldn't help but grin, going as far as to clap once in excitement. "Definitely comfy jeans and boots, stuff you don't mind getting dirty." It wasn't easy to keep herself from focusing too hard on the girl's sleepy smile, and the way the sight tugged at something within her. It was just the excitement, that was all.

Charlizard was struck, even in her sleepy state, by how much Row's excitement made her happy in turn. She was, however, far too tired to figure out just what that meant. "I'm not even going to make the super obvious joke. I'd invite you to wait in here, but Morgan's still asleep and she takes getting woken up even worse than I do." Grinning, she quietly closed the door and found some old clothes in her bottom drawer that weren't long for the world: blue jeans, a little too tight, paired with a button-up shirt that was a little too big. The boots were a sacrifice; not her favorite pair, but ones that made her look good that wouldn't break her heart if she had to throw them out later. Hair and teeth were done quickly, her blonde mane pulled back into a ponytail, and a few minutes later she opened the door with a much more awake look in her eyes. "Acceptable?"

Rowan raked her eyes up and down Charlie's body, taking in the simple, but somehow very flattering outfit. It was really not fair for someone to be that effortlessly attractive. "Not acceptable; gorgeous." She said, and meant it. "Let's get this show on the road, then. I'll stop by McD's to get something to eat. Least I can do after waking you up so early." Twenty minutes later and armed with coffee and breakfast sandwiches, they were well on their way to Brighton. "Question, do you have any animal allergies?"

Charlizard grinned deviously, even if the compliment had also brought a flush to her cheeks. "Look who's talking. At least you've had a chance to actually wake up - then again, I've seen you rumpled in the morning and that's actually better anyway." She perked up immediately at the thought of a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. "You've got yourself a deal." Row's truck was somehow both perfect and ridiculous, much like the girl herself, and a shockingly comfortable ride ensued. Her question took Charlie slightly by surprise, but she swallowed the bite of hashbrown she was working on and shook her head. "Not that I know of. I mean I haven't been around every animal, but I know cats and dogs are fine at least."

Rowan thanked her lucky stars silently. She should've had the good mind to ask first, but since deciding to invite Charlie along had been a spur of the moment kind of thing, there really had been no time. "Well, guess there's no time like the present to find out if you're allergic to chickens. And cows, goats, raccoons, horses; you catch my drift." Winking at the blonde, she took a bite of her sandwich and focused back on the road. It didn't take that long, twenty more minutes on the road and a colorful sign welcomed them to Brighton. Five more minutes of navigating rough terrain and the green truck pulled up into a ranch. "Welcome to Pawsome animal sanctuary.!"

Charlizard still hadn't stopped being undone by that wink, although now her curiosity was raging. There weren't a whole lot of places that one would meet chickens, and unless Row was secretly an urban farmer then it seemed unlikely that it was somewhere she owned. "I guess I will," she agreed with a melodic laugh, washing down the last of her breakfast with a swig of hot, black coffee. McD's actually made some decent brew these days, and her eyes were far wider than they had been when they left the school. She watched for signs, turning to shoot Row an impressed grin when they reached their destination. "An animal sanctuary? That's awesome!" She loved animals, much more than she did most people.

Rowan felt relief wash over her as Charlie's excitement. She had been a little worried that the blonde might not exactly be the type to get down and dirty; literally. "I come here at least once a month. Sometimes it's much easier to deal with animals than people." Reaching behind the seats, she pulled two beat-up trucker hats; shoved one on and passed one to the blonde. "It's feeding time, let's see who's more of an ass; you or the actual donkeys."

Charlizard nodded, knowing exactly what Row meant by that. The trucker hat was almost post-ironic, or meta, or something, but she rolled with it all the same and snorted at the pithy comment from the driver's seat. "I'm sure it'll be a close contest, but we do know that I'm much more fun to pet." It was her turn to wink playfully as she slid down out of the truck and felt the ground give under her feet, just a little. Witty repartee aside, she was more than ready to see some cute animals.

Rowan was even impressed herself when she managed to scramble up a tree in an attempt to escape sure death. Everything had been going well, Charlie took to what was pretty much the role of a farmhand rather well. They fed the donkeys and horses, made friends with the chickens, and even got a heavy dose of love from the herd of dogs as they ran around with them. So, yeah, everything was fine, until they had walked by the chicken coop and she was face to face with her one true enemy. "Charlie, stop laughing and shoo it away!" She screamed, squealing in fear a moment later as the untameable beast made to reach for her. Toto the turkey was out for blood, and Rowan had been wholly unprepared. "I swear I'm going to kill you if you don't help me, Fabray!"

Charlizard had never spent so much time around any animals that weren't plainly domestic, but everything from the donkeys to the dogs were fun to interact with and take care of. For a long while she wasn't thinking of anything but the animals and how cute Row looked in her trucker hat and jeans. It was even better than the bar, because she was casual and relaxed. Nothing, though, topped watching her run from a turkey and climb a tree. It was so hard to stop laughing that she didn't bother, doing her best instead to corral the animal even though she could barely breathe. "Don't worry, Row! I'll save you from the vicious beast!"

Rowan screeched once more, and the ruckus was enough to attract the attention of some of the other volunteers. Everyone knew of the hatred the animal displayed towards Rowan, even when all the other animals had taken to her immediately, and such a show wasn't too out of the ordinary. "I'm going to murder you, Fabray." She said, finally climbing down the tree once Toto was led away from the commotion. She was all pouts and quiet grumbling as she dusted herself off, giving the still cackling blonde a dirty look. "No one will find your body, I promise you."

Charlizard looked innocently at Rowan, gesturing back toward the pen. "I'm sorry," she wheezed through her laughter. "I really was trying to get him back where he belonged, but this is the first time I've ever seen a turkey that wasn't in a roasting pan!" She gathered herself and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. But you can murder me if it makes you feel better." Gesturing toward the turkey, Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What'd you ever do to him?"

Rowan rolled her eyes, though it was hard to keep playing the angry card when Charlie's smile was that stupidly cute. "Nothing. I never did a single thing to him, save for existing. That's enough reason for him to hate my guts." The sun was already beginning its descent west when Rowan looked up at the sky and making a split decision, she took Charlie's hand and pulled her towards the stables. There, a lone man brushed a horse diligently, humming to himself. "Hey, Gramps! Can we take Judge for a ride?" The older man scoffed, but there was affection crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Not without introducing me to this lovely, young lady here." Smiling sheepishly at her slip up, she pulled Charlie forward. "Charlie, this is Gramps, he takes care of the horses and is all around a badass. Gramps, this is Charlie, my friend."

Charlizard looked dubious, but since she had no reason to disbelieve Row's version of events there was no choice but to blame it on the turkey. "In that case, that turkey is a dick. And I'm not going to wish that he becomes thanksgiving dinner or anything, but I do hope he falls over when he's chasing you next time and knocks himself out for a while." She gave the turkey a dirty look, and she was sure she got one back. It wasn't until Rowan tugged her hand that she realized how sore she was after a day's work with the animals...and how little she minded that. "A ride?" she asked softly, looking at the horse and the man taking care of it. "It's nice meeting you," she smiled at him, wondering how long Row had known him.

Rowan smiling placidly at the interaction, Rowan squeezed Charlie's hand before going to press a kiss to the man's temple. "Alright, old man, we're gonna go before you charm my date away from me." Gesturing for Charlie to follow, they made their way to the very end of the barn where a huge, silverish horse with a black mane immediately stuck its head over the gate with a soft neigh in greeting. "Hey there, boy. I missed you." Rowan allowed the horse to nuzzle her hair, then fished a carrot from her pocket and fed it to the horse. She produced another snack, a small apple this time, and passed it to Charlie to give it to the horse. "This beautiful beast is Judge. He's a bit temperamental but his love is easily bought with food."

Charlizard gave Rowan's hand a squeeze in return, wishing the older man well as she was quickly led into the barn. And while she never would have admitted it aloud, the appearance of a giant horse's head over the stall made her jump just a little. It was impressive watching just how easily Row interacted with him, like she'd been born to take care of huge animals that towered over her, and Charlie was more than a little in awe. "It's been a while since I was around a horse," she confessed. "Do I just give him the whole thing, or...?" it was probably a silly concern wondering whether the horse would have trouble with the apple's core, but she still had to ask.

Rowan nodded. "Yup, just hold it out with your hand open and he'll take it." And so the horse did, taking the treat and munching happily, before sniffing and insistently nuzzling Charlie's head. "Told you, he might already be in love with you. Come on, let's go for a ride before going back." Saddling the horse was second nature for her, and once they were ready and out on the field, a thought popped into her head and she looked at the blonde curiously. "Wait, do you know how to ride?"

Charlizard looked from the horse to the apple and nodded. "Gotcha." She lifted her hand high enough for the horse to take the apple and giggled softly as the fruit disappeared from her hand quicker than she could blink. "Hungry boy, aren't you?" she smiled, laughing more loudly as the horse nuzzled her. "I'm sorry, buddy, that's all I've got right now. Next time I'll bring you a whole bag of apples or however many you're allowed to eat in a day." Row's country girl ways were increasingly impressive, and Charlie could only watch as the horse was quickly saddled and led outside. "It's...been a long time," she admitted. "Not since I was a kid. I think I remember the basics, but that's about it."

Rowan shrugged. "The basics are more than enough since we'll be riding together and all. Here, you get up first." Getting Charlie situated was quite the amusing travesty, Judge was simply an imposing animal, but after much laughter and teasing, the blonde was safely on the saddle. "Okay, scoot forward so I can get on." Once Charlie did, Rowan easily jumped on, settling comfortably against the blonde's back and taking the reigns. "Alright, let's go, boy." A little nudge of encouragement and the horse took off at a leisurely pace.

Charlizard knew that whatever riding experience was in her past, it wasn't on anything the size of Judge. Fortunately, the horse was large but not unpleasant, and was more than willing to stand there stoically while she was hoisted from behind by Row and finally got herself in the saddle without immediately falling off the other side; a miracle in itself. She scooted forward as requested, making sure not to fall off in the process, and leaned back a little against her companion's slim form. As the horse began to move she reached for the saddle, holding on with knuckles that were only a little bit white. "Good boy, Judge," she praised, looking around the property as they moved.

Rowan led them towards a stream, far away from the property and into the place where the trees became thicker. It was a beautiful place and exactly what she needed to destress from the constant push and pull of school. Keeping the reigns in one hand, she wrapped he other around Charlie's waist. Nuzzling her neck, she hummed. "Yes, I know you're sweaty; no, I don't care."

Charlizard was impressed by the scenery; unlike anything back home, or around the campus, it was quiet and serene in a way that normally left her with too many thoughts. With Row behind her, though, there was a sense of peace that actually let her mind rest a little. As a soft hand pulled her close, she found her natural objection cut off by Rowan's soft voice. "Hey, if you don't care then I don't care. I'm happy to get you all sweaty too."

Rowan smiled against Charlie's skin. "You really are perpetually horny, aren't you? Is it something in the water fountains at Erickson?" She teased, though her ministrations proved it was her -- yet again -- that was trying to start something they simply couldn't finish at the time. She wasn't that shameless. "In which case, it would explain why I hardly can keep my hands to myself around you."

Charlizard nodded, admitting that without any further argument. "I'm pretty sure it's just me, not the school itself...although you know, come to think of it there does seem to be a lot of sex going on in that place." Rowan's proximity definitely had an effect on her, and the admission that it was mutual made her smile as well. "If you want to use that as an excuse, I'm okay with it. Whatever keeps your hands on me is just fine."

Rowan 's eyes narrowed at the reply. There was something about it that just didn't sit well with her. Maybe she was to different from Charlie, but she couldn't help her next words. "In all seriousness, you shouldn't accept anyone wanting to be with you under dumb excuses. If someone wants to be with you it should be solely because of you, because they want you and aren't afraid of it."

Charlizard turned a little in the saddle, wanting to look at Row in answer to her being surprisingly sweet and protective. She laid a hand against her cheek, smiling. "I promise I'm good with the consent thing. And as much as it may seem like it sometimes, I don't take anyone into my bed just because they want to be there. They need to do better than that. Like you did." There weren't many people who'd worked their way into her life the way Row had.

Rowan resisted the urge to lean into the touch. It was too intimate, in a way their sexual encounters weren't. Still, she didn't pull away or flinched at the contact. The answer made the furrow of her brow smooth out, placated for the time being. "Like I did, uh?" She asked, back to their usual banter and teasing smirks. "And what exactly did I do to earn it, miss Fabray?"

Charlizard laughed softly at being called Miss - the only people who did that were usually school administrators giving her shit for one thing or another. "You dealt with me like a person," she explained plainly. "You deal with my bullshit and call me on it. Plus you have a really good slap," she finished with a grin. "I still have dreams about that slap, and they're exceptionally good dreams."

Rowan snorted. She should've expected Charlie to bring that up at some point. "You're such a masochist, but I have to admit, it was the first time I got a date out of slapping someone." She lead them across the stream and around the edges of the property, the time spent among their usual banter and endless teasing. It was only fair to admit, even if only to herself, that having Charlie like that, being able to be that close without it leading to sex, was nice. She felt good, without worries or ghosts of the past haunting her. Maybe, just maybe... "I think it's better we head back, they're gonna close soon."

Charlizard shrugged. "I mean, I'm not going to deny it. And as far as ways to get me on a date, that's always going to win the prize for the most unique one." The ride was fascinating for her. Charlie didn't do quiet. She was loud, and she kept her surroundings loud to match. Even if she was doing homework or doing something on the computer, then the tv was on or there was music, something that would keep her from getting too far into her own head. She didn't always like that. But this was nice, to just be there leaning into Row's arms and enjoying the moment. "I guess if we have to. We'll have to do this again sometime."

Rowan was all smiles as they walked out of the office and towards her truck, Charlie's hand firmly clasped in hers. Going to the shelter was always a guaranteed good time, made even better by the presence of Charlie. Unlocking the doors, she pushed the blonde against the passenger side, pressing her there with her body and looking a little insecure for the first time that day. "Did you really have a good time?"

Charlizard felt right, hand surrounded by Rowan's as they headed back toward the truck they'd arrived in. She was tired, certainly, as the day had been filled with hard work, but it was the rewarding kind and had meant both spending time with both cute animals and Row. Once she'd been backed up against the passenger side, Charlie met the question with a soft smile. "If there's one thing I'm not going to do, is lie to you. I had a great time, and I'm glad you brought me with you."

Rowan felt relief wash over her when she found no deceit in Charlie's eyes. Much to her dismay, she liked the blonde, she was starting to care about her, and though it was never part of the plan, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Not when she had finally managed not to think about Jo the whole time they were together. "I am too.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, SIDNEY! You’ve been accepted for the role of IMOGEN. Admin Rosey: First and foremost let me just say that Imogen has been one of my favorite characters in any play ever. She is the epitome of virtue and whenever I think of Lady Justice, I think of Imogen. I truly didn’t think that others would be as taken with them as I was, but Sidney, I’m so, so very happy that you’ve become as infatuated with them as I have. What got me was the tally that you kept running between their head and their heart. It’s something that encapsulates their struggle in both Shakespeare’s plays and in Isabella as well. You know how to ruin us, so ruin us well with Imogen why don’t you?  Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

Out of Character

Alias | Sidney Age | 21 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | I’m fairly active! I’m usually here when I’m not working or sleeping, and most likely mobile and available to plot. I get to replies within 1-3 days depending on muse and time management! On a numerical scale, I’d say I’m a 6-7/10. Timezone | EST Current/Past RP Accounts | My current DV account is here.

In Character

Character | Imogen / Isabella Gagliano (this would be my second character!)

Isabella ‘Izzy’ Beatriz Gagliano

ISABELLA - devoted to God; quite literal but not chosen for its meaning but because it was their grandmother’s name, something their father was adamant about his child bearing. To this day, they hate it on pure principle and prefer Izzy above all else. Bella, but only if you’re lucky.

BEATRIZ - happiness, bringer of joy; chosen by their mother especially for her baby girl, for her daughter’s face always brought out a smile in whoever held them. This is often the name they give out as their last and it is the name attached to all articles they’ve written for public consumption. They have identification to match as well; very few know their true surname and that’s the way they prefers it.

GAGLIANO - joyous, hard, brave; wholly not of their choosing and one they hated much throughout their youth as it followed them wherever they went, tragedy in tow. They shed it the moment they left Spain and never looked back. It belongs to their father and for all they care, he can fucking keep it.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

ONE: COMEUPPANCE

Undeniably, Izzy has a lot of rage. Granted, it lies in wait deep beneath the surface, often clouded by their ever changing emotions and the vast spectrum of creativity that encompasses their mind on any given day, but it’s there if you know where to look. If you cut deep enough, there’s no telling what they’ll do to retaliate. What I’d love to explore is their hunger for justice. How far are they willing to go to expose the truth? They want nothing more than to lay Verona’s sins before the people’s feet, for all the world to see. And while they think they’re doing all these things for the greater good, I’d love to push them into a much more morally grey territory. They’ve already dabbled in anarchy when they watched as Nikolai set the Northern Grove aflame. But do they know Puck seriously injured someone? And are they okay with that as long as it means justice will be served? I’m a sucker for negative development and I think Izzy is the perfect person to nudge closer and closer to the edge of their own haphazardly constructed set of rules in hopes they breaks them. They’re bound and determined to punish someone, but I don’t think they realize you cannot pick and choose the lives lost in times of war. And their reckless wrath is guaranteed to take down an innocent person or two much sooner rather than later.

TWO: INTELLECT

They’re so smart, well read, and kept up-to-date on all current events as they make it their business to be, but their heart — Izzy’s fickle, fickle heart — and the madness it contains is almost too strong for the sharpest of minds to compete with. It’s taken them a long while to learn how to balance that fire that resides deep within their chest, the flames licking along the edges of their heart against the natural intellect and heaps of knowledge embedded inside their mind. It’s a constant battle, from one moment to the next a fight between head and heart, and sometimes — a lot of the time, if they’re being truthful — their heart wins. They can’t help it; they feel so deeply. This was always something their mother encouraged, though. To not feel is to not live, she’d say but as Izzy aged, the more they were penalized for daring to do such a thing. The more tears they shed, the dirtier the looks were from their peers and the less they were listened to. But the farther Izzy is pushed, the more these horrible people get away with ruining an entire city, the more likely Izzy is to crumble and crack under pressure. The results of which could be catastrophic for not only her but everyone else. This is a daily struggle for Izzy, balancing decision making between what they feel is right and what they know is probable. As of late that intellect they’re so proud of has taken a bit of a back seat in favor of such strong emotions. I think it’s entirely possible that Izzy will make a very poor decision based on what their heart wants versus what they know is the right choice. And furthermore I want them to make that decision! Whether its furthering their trust in Nikolai even though they know they shouldn’t. There’s no going back once the deed is done; you can’t take back decisions of a vengeful heart, you can only move forward once they’re made. That’s the funny thing about love, especially when Izzy since loves so intensely. And they’re the type of person who will do anything their heart tells them to. Anything.

THREE: HUBRIS

Working with the likes of Puck and Nikolai, Izzy has gained a certain confidence. Everything has been going their way and they’ve gotten exactly what they wanted. But does Izzy truly even know what that is? I think whether the Montagues and Capulets live or die has become a second burner problem for them right now. The light of the sun is far too bright for them to make out anything other than the vengeance that has been so prevalent in their vision for so long. And the successful ruination at the Northern Grove has only made them more confident that what they’re doing, this mission they’re on, is exactly the right answer. I want to develop this further as Izzy will surely begin to dance with many a devil in the streets of Verona. The only way to win a war is to secure allied forces and then strike. But will they be foolish enough to trust the devil himself? I don’t know that Izzy will be able to see past a fatal deceit as they cascade closer and closer to the sun. If only they could just reach it. Touch it. It’d make everything better, wouldn’t it? If they can just get it, that holy grail, that one vital piece of information that could make the whole house of cards come crashing down, it’d all be worth it. Every sacrifice, every life lost. At least that’s what they tell themselves. But what of the hero who thinks themselves a god? It’s one thing to save people for the sake of saving them but it is an entirely different kind of monster to demand they revere you for your work. I’d love to put Izzy in a situation in which there’s the chance to put their name on one of the many good deeds they do! They’ve lived a life of modesty for so long, even going so far as to conceal their true surname, but how will they fair if they start to garner recognition? I can’t wait to find out.

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

In Depth

In-Character Interview:

What is your favorite place in Verona?

She first thinks of To Tame A Soup and all the people it helps, all the mouths it feeds and the beds it offers to those in need of a warm night’s sleep. It brings a smile to her face, eyes lulling shut as she leans back in the couch. The question, on the lips of someone she doesn’t trust but is indebted to for exactly this purpose, begs to be answered. Truthfully. Thankfully the first lesson she’d learned when she’d arrived in Verona was how to lie, something every citizen needs to become proficient in if they intend to survive.

“The Library,” she lied with a smile and a slight cant of her head. “All those books,” she leans in close, eyes widening at the mention of literature, which wasn’t a falsehood by the slightest. It’s always better to tell an adjacent truth. The advice sings in her head like a sweet melody she’ll never forget. “I could spend hours in there,” she smiles, thinking back to the past five Sundays she has spent there. At least a dozen books all spread out across the table before her, laptop open as she typed furiously, looking from one text to the other every so often.

From a distance, she looked as inconspicuous as anyone. A student studying for an exam, that was her cover, and naturally, it worked. Her notes, however, would beg to differ, covering nothing from the books before her but instead noting every Montague who came and went.

“But I’m sure I’m not the only one who loves it there.”

What does your typical day look like?

“It depends if I’m on a deadline,” she clears her throat and adjusts in her seat, letting the deception fall off her shoulders as she rests back again. “If I am, I wake early and head out to find a quiet place to write,” her eyes wander over to her desk in the corner, papers littered about. “It’s hard for me to write here most times. There’s too much to distract me,” she lets out a small laugh, self-deprecating in its tone. “I have horrible impulse control.”

“I volunteer as much as I can throughout the week when I’m not working as well, but other than that…” arms now crossed, one hand drifts up and she begins to tap an index finger against her chin as she thinks back over the past week, “I like the theater…” she’s grasping at straws now, quite nervous to tell them she rather enjoys just sitting at home most nights.

“I’m relatively boring, I suppose.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Falling in love.

Izzy doesn’t even have to think before the answer comes to her in a rushing tidal wave of bittersweet happiness, the image of Celeste peeking into her closed eyes. Now that is the truest answer of them all and it’s something she’d never want Celeste to know. Regret is never something Izzy wants to carry around, but at this point, the guise of calm, cool, and collected is bound to shatter. The thought breaks her heart in this moment, sitting before a stranger asking shallow questions one moment and asking Izzy to bear her soul the next. Tears sting in her eyes the moment she opens them, the dam that rests between her head and her heart threatening to break at any moment.

“I’m not sure…” she stutters, unable to form the right words — unable to come up with a suitable lie on the spot. She repeats the same gesture as before, one arm raising to rest beneath her chin as an index finger taps furiously against her chin. This time it rises and runs along her bottom lip. The truth is Izzy has never had to look this deep inside. She’s never been asked to critique her own character, nor should she. She is always justified in any of her actions and has to answer to no one.

“Next question,” she says firmly, digit rising a couple more inches to wipe away the one tear that broke through. It’s damp against the pad of her finger but she doesn’t linger and wipes it away on her knee.

Head: 1 Heart: 0

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

In an instant, she’s agitated. Frustrated beyond belief at the audacity of this person that she barely knows asking all these questions of which they have no right to the answer.She was doing them the favor after all, so how dare they?

“This,” she blurted, eyes rolling too fast for her to stop herself.

Head: 1 Heart: 1

Fuck.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

The mere mention of them is enough to cause her to clench her fists where she sits. She clenches so tight a knuckle cracks and she plays it off by cracking a few more and forcing a complacent smile onto her features.

“Truthfully?” she asks as calmly as she can, but she can’t resist the offer to say her piece. If they really wanted to know, Izzy would tell them exactly what she thinks. “I think they’re going to rip this city a part.” Her statement is matter of fact, concluded with a nod and a stern look of intent at the asker. It’s a truth she believes deep in her bones, all the way into her core. “They will take what they want,” her teeth grind against the t, “kill who they want.” There’s a flash in her mind of her mother, knife slipping between her ribs as she cries out in pain. Izzy clenches her fists once more, pushing them to either side of her thighs against the couch. “They corrupt whoever they like and care not for who they hurt.”

And I’ll take down every last one of them.

She’s seething now, nails digging into her own palms to keep her from smashing them against something, like the face of the person before her.

“Is that enough?” she asks, again through gritted teeth, but she doesn’t wait for an answer and instead rises from her seat. “Great.” She snaps,  walking across the living room and opening the front door to her apartment.

“Leave.”

Head: 1 Heart: 2

Extras:

Pinterest Mockblog

HEADCANONS:

— ASTROLOGY: Born March 24th, Izzy is an Aries.       +Element: fire - quite emotional and compassionate to a fault, always giving far more than they receive if for no other reason than to remain loyal to those emotions.       + Ruler: mars - an animalistic nature, it calls to their impetuous tendencies, inciting rage and destruction at the drop of a hat.       + Color(s): red - vibrant and attention-seeking, it’s rare that they don it but are instead often drawn to its excitement and promise of adventure.

— STRENGTHS: audacious, determined, self-assured, ardent, creative, insightful, altruistic, honest.

— WEAKNESSES: impatient, sensitive, moody, short-tempered, perfectionistic, impulsive, contentious.

— MBTI: INFJ, the advocate - takes great happiness from helping people, spends the time to get to the root of issues and work through them, sees a world full of inequity but knows it doesn’t have to be that way, and truly believes a little help can go a long way, but sometimes they forget to care for themselves and overcorrect for certain causes which puts them in jeopardy, though they write it off as having been worth it all in the end if progress was made.

— ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral, the judge - their mother, the basis of their entire moral compass, taught them right from wrong and shaped their entire view of the world with just a few kind acts. Feeding the homeless was something they did every Sunday afternoon together, mother and daughter each with smiles upon their face, filled with joy at the simple act of helping. But it wasn’t until they watched the very woman who gave them life fight tooth and nail, time and time again for those less fortunate than them. Their mother would have offered a stranger on the street the clothes off her back and the shoes on her feet if she felt it would improve their life. She was generous and kind and expected nothing in return for all her good deeds. It taught Izzy how to love, this ever apparent generosity present throughout their youth, and as they aged, they did so with their whole heart. They dove head first into philanthropy the moment they left Spain, using their knack for words to shine a light on the injustices of the world in hopes of making a real change. And they have no intent on stopping within Verona. They’ll burn the whole city down if it means it’ll return, but this time just and pure of heart.

— GENDER/SEXUALITY: Izzy, while not a fan of labels at all and if forced, identifies as a demigirl and prefers she/her and they/them pronouns. Femininity has never been something they’ve felt terribly attached to, nor do they shy away from what society would deem as ‘for women’, but there’s always been a bit of a disconnect from it. It’s a sore subject if pressed, causing Izzy immense stress when brought up. Memories of their stepmother spewing hate for every little thing about them flood their mind and tears swell in their eyes from the echo of rejection for simply being themself. / They’d call themselves a lover of everyone, if they’re being honest. At least ten times a day they turn smitten in an instant! With just one glance from a handsome stockbroker who held the door for them at a cafe. A coy smile from a waitress at Hotel Emelia can send them into a giggling fit, cheeks flushing a rosy red. They’re a biromantic, through and through, enjoying — indulging in whoever’s holding their heart in their palm for the moment, regardless of their gender. But for them to give themselves to you, it needs to mean something. It has to matter. Izzy is smart; they know their heart is fickle, and while most days it rules their choices, those welcome in their bed must earn it first. Some would call them a slut, if they were lacking character and down to their two brain cells. Most call them a tease, leaving a trail of kisses in their indecisive wake. But Izzy knows themself to be demisexual, and in need of a strong emotional bond before spreading their legs.

— CELESTE: It defies logic, how much Izzy loves her. All normal, rational thought evades her whenever the girl is near. The fact that she remains, to this day, a part of one of the very organizations Izzy is bound and determined to take down seemingly makes no difference. Not when her heart practically sings in the face of Celeste Duval. It’s assuredly unnatural, of which the two have discussed at length. She’s married, after all and that fact seems to evade her lover’s mind as well. Perhaps that’s what makes it exciting, but it’s also what makes it that much more stressful. Izzy is in constant battle with herself when it comes to Celeste. It’s as if each time they’re apart, she formulates a plan to sever the bond for the good of the both of them, but the moment she lays eyes on Celeste, she can’t think. She can only feel. And what she feels is so much stronger than any argument her brain could muster. But is Izzy willing to sacrifice everything for her? Deep down she knows the answer and deep down she hates herself for it.

— NIKOLAI: He’s so handsome, of this she’s positive simply because of the way his smile causes her heart to race. To say she fell in love with him the first moment they met would be entirely accurate, for he knew exactly what to say to tug at her weaknesses. By far one of her worst qualities, she wears her heart on her sleeve, like an open wound laid bare for anyone to rub salt in. Though deep down, she always hopes it’ll be sugar. She always wants to believe the best in people, and certainly the same goes for Nik. He was so earnest during their first talks, so generous with his information and sympathetic to her cause, to her fight for justice within the bloodied streets of Verona. She barely had time to check on him, to look him up and sink her teeth into his past like any good journalist would. If she isn’t careful, he could expose her entire plot, but damn if he doesn’t have the deepest of sea blue eyes. And each time he’s near, all careful planning and hard earned wisdom Izzy has gathered fades away in favor of going for a swim.

— DELILAH: It breaks her heart to see a good woman silenced, especially when she’s been falsely promised so much. The Capulets appease her doubts over and over, each time she dares to break her silence if but just for a moment; but Izzy can see the storm behind her eyes, if only Delilah would let the floodgates flow open. With the whisper of a few secrets and a pen put to paper, the entire underbelly of Verona could rest in the palm of their hands. All she needs is a little push. And Izzy has every intention of doing so, no matter what.