#location: montague headquarters.

[scotianostra]

The last two posts were meant to be scheduled for tomorrow, oh well onto todays anniversaries....

January 17th 1883 saw the birth of the writer Compton Mackenzie.

I've explained in mainy posts that just because you weren't born on Scottish soil, it doesn't mean you are not Scottish, well I'll leave it to the Scottish writer Andro Linklater this time tp exoplain Compton Mackenzies credentails, not that they should be needed. Liklater penned a biography on Mackenzie, so is more than qualified;

“(He) wasn’t born a Scot, and he didn’t sound like a Scot. But nevertheless his imagination was truly Scottish.”

Edward Montague Compton Mackenzie was born in West Hartlepool in 1883 and raised in London. His was a theatrical family – many of whose members used Compton as their stage name. His grandfather Henry Compton was a well-known Shakespearean actor of the Victorian era. A history graduate of Magdalen College, Oxford, the young Mackenzie published his first novel in 1912 but his writing career was stalled by the outbreak of war.

He quickly signed up and saw action at Gallipoli. In 1915 he was recruited into the fledgling Secret Service and was posted across the eastern Mediterranean. Although he would later be awarded a knighthood, Mackenzie was no darling of the British establishment. In 1932 he was hauled before the courts and fined for breaching the Official Secrets Act for writing Greek Memories – a candid reflection of his time as a spy. At a time when the British public was scarcely aware of the security services, Mackenzie freely outlined its organisation. It was withdrawn from sale and was only published in full as recently as 2011.

In 1933 he took revenge on the Secret Service with Water on the Brain, an obvious swipe at the Service. Despite its satirical cover, he managed to include a few genuine morsels – such as the fact that the chief of the Service always wrote in green ink. At story’s end, the location of the Secret Service’s headquarters is revealed in a spy thriller and the spooks have to move out. The building becomes an asylum for “the servants of bureaucracy who have been driven mad in the service of the country”. By this point Mackenzie was already resident in Scotland and had become close friends with the poet Hugh MacDiarmid and the influential writer, thinker and adventurer Robert Cunninghame Graham. Together they helped establish the National Party of Scotland in 1928, which emerged in 1934 as the modern SNP.

Mackenzie settled on the Hebridean island of Barra and concentrated on his most ambitious project, The Four Winds of Love. Gavin Wallace, another of his biographers, later wrote: “The Four Winds of Love, published in six volumes between 1937 and 1945 and containing almost 1 million words, is one of the most ambitious Scottish novels of the twentieth century, an enormous historical odyssey which anatomizes the politics of peripheral nationalism both throughout Europe and in Britain, again through semi-autobiographical character development.”

But it was Mackenzie’s comic novels that won him wider fame and fortune. Whisky Galore, based on a real-life incident in Eriskay in 1941, was first adapted for the big screen by Ealing studios and released to popular acclaim in 1948. The enduring appeal of the novel was later summed up by one Scotsman literary critic:

“So what if it perpetrates the old, cliched ‘Brigadoon’ myth? Scots, English, American or Martian, no-one can resist this tale of ill-gotten whisky gain on a Scottish island in wartime. It’s simply hilarious.”

Such was Mackenzie’s status as an elder statesman of letters he was knighted in 1952 and remained a much-respected cultural commentator for the rest of his life. In later years he lived in Drummond Place, in Edinburgh’s New Town, where he died from cancer aged 89, in 1972, he is buried on Barra.

Lavish tributes followed. Dr Robert McIntyre, president of the SNP and the first Scottish nationalist elected to parliament, described Mackenzie as “the Grand Old Man of Scotland”. Novelist Eric Linklater said he was a “consummate stylist, who, unlike most writers, also lived with style.”

There are many Mackenzie quotes I could call on, but my favourite is

“Love makes the world go round? Not at all. Whisky makes it go round twice as fast.”

[ofrallis]

of holier, higher things // @cleosokolova montague headquarters, may 23rd, late evening

In a remote corner, Alexander lounged like a full-bellied beast, heavy with a rich, smoldering heap of gain and glory; an anchor that had been dragging him into the depths of a limitless, insatiable sea from the moment the Cathedral was crowned with the Montague name. Or perhaps further beyond that, from the moment he had tied the knot which hung the looming blade of treachery between resentful son and wrathful father, and watched with relish as it made its slow, eager descent.

It burned as fiercely as the liquor that rolled down his throat, glass lingering against his lips as though to keep them sealed, to hold his mouth at bay. Yet there was no need for his lips to part in order for the call of hunger to flow free. It swirled through his eyes in a vortex of gold, poured from them in tear-like torrents of shadow, latching onto anyone worthy of being caught in the sweep of his gaze across the reveling Montague crowds. It lingered briefly on each mietitore, now his very own band of wolves to command and lead to victory, then it trailed after Roman, who kept to himself in solemn, contemplative solitude, before skirting past his circle of trust, scattered as it was throughout the brimming hall. Finally, it came to a stop before none other than Calina Sokolova.

And there it stayed, tracing the halo of her curls and the smooth pillar of her neck before sliding down the slopes of her arms and the black-draped curves of her elegant form. Even as Calina wandered around and trailed from one companion to another, it remained; the same steady, reverberating call -- up until the moment she heeded it, with nothing more than a flourish of her waist and a quick, lingering glance before she began making her way towards him. Their eyes locked, bridging the distance like a rope being pulled from both ends, taut and trembling once Calina was settled at his side -- and then unceremoniously severed. Alexander looked down at the glass in his hand, tipped it towards Calina, then raised it to his lips. He said nothing, because such was how the two of them truly spoke, after all. Wasn’t it?

[ofaguilar]

ashes to ashes // @ofrosso training area in montague headquarters, april 23rd, mid-afternoon

She wasn’t sure what she had expected upon delving into the training. Perhaps she had expected a flash of Valentina’s grin to glimmer along the blade of Marcelo’s knife; a memory and a taunt all at once. Or perhaps she had expected a whisper of Andrés’ scathing, rattling voice as it drifted along her ear; an ever-present reminder that his ghost would stay at her side until she joined it in death, always looming over her shoulder; burning, blaming, hurting, given suffering and denied release, despite the outpouring forgiveness and remorse that she ceaselessly gave in return.

Yet as she grit her teeth and wiped her brow, Ramona found herself unexpectedly rooted in reality, her gaze clear and her hearing vacant. There was only the harsh echo of their rushing breaths, the churning burn of her coiled muscles, and the deterring glint of her partner’s blade. Ramona channeled her focus, driving it into her gaze as it traced Marcelo’s motions and pressing it into the heart of her fist as it swiped the knife in accordance with Marcelo’s instructions.

Regardless, her vision suddenly grew clouded with tears, unbidden and unexpected, and Ramona groaned in rejection of it, though pretended the sound was merely in alignment with her strike as she collided against Marcelo. She detested the notion of disappointing them, yet it was nowhere near as caustic or cloying as the thought of them glimpsing her tears and condemning them as a sign of weakness. It was for that reason that she eased back a bit, muttering, “Can we take a break? I’m... I’m losing focus.” However, she didn’t stop, convinced that Marcelo would keep pushing her.

[brutuskovrov]

date: may 14th location: montague headquarters status: closed for @dalygrace

He's heard tell of the rumors which have slowly settled their way into reality, in the way seashells settle into sand. He'll have little to do with it, obviously, hasn't been here long enough to dig his heels in and start collecting what's due. More than that, people know Boris by now -- and the smart ones know not to chatter when he's in the room. It doesn't stop him from trying, though. He's plied the news of several Capulet shipments coming through on plane freight out of a pair of initiates,, and it's with this information tucked into his pocket that he returns to the library, prouder than is rational for such a small achievement. He's not picky. He'll take what he can get.

And what he can get, it seems, car keys jingling and eyes downcast until the last minute, is Grace Daly. For a moment, Boris stops, and that's all that he can personally think to do. She cuts as sharp a shape as ever: all angular lines, long shadows, a sour expression -- or what Boris perceives to be a sour expression. The longer he looks, the more he realizes that might not be what it is at all. It's not every day that he's left alone in the room with a woman who tried to brazenly kill him. Non-brazenly, of course, has never been off the table.

She's an anomaly to him, something unfamiliar in every meaning of the word, and Boris can feel his hands twitching with the desire to know. It is here, and now, that his appetite rises. He cannot help but poke the bear with the stick. He shuffles the manila folder of papers to his other hand, the ones that had been holding the keys, straightens a little. “Is it true, then, that you are going after the Cathedral tomorrow?” Perhaps his tone is a bit too jagged, his phrasing stilted, but when he speaks, he can feel the flare of the knife at his throat all over again. An unexpected side effect to accompany the hunger for knowledge, then. “Are you looking forward to it?”

[santodomingos]

DATE.            twentieth of may.

LOCATION.   the library of verona.

STATUS.        closed, @brutuskovrov.

Months had passed since Bellamy had been reacquainted with the dealings of the mob, and it showed in the slightest brush of darkness over gleaming irises, the healthy bronze of his skin fading away as the clouds of Italy drowned out the sun, as war worn him down like incessant rain would destroy any flower clinging to life. Every training session was a sacrifice of another piece of himself, ripping apart the flesh of his own heart becoming a clinical offering, ruthless in the pain it brought to numb limbs. Anything to keep Montague wolves pleased ━ Bellamy was used to giving out, giving in. Each new mission was a compromise, for no matter how he tried to spin it, there was no way peace could be connected to his doings. Omission was a sin on itself: he was no peacekeeper, he was no soldier. Standing in between the fortresses raised high in Verona, Bellamy found his life to mean very little, his impact not to be felt as he continued to shrink away, hoping violence would not find his own hands as a tool. This time, he was to protect Boris Kovrov ━ bodyguard, but he knew the fine print of the job too well. There was no easy way out, there was no avoidance strong enough that could be twisted into redemption. ━━ Signore. ━━ he called out, the Montague headquarters doing nothing to ease the gnawing tension inside of his rib cage. There was a frown perched on his face instead of the usual, tender smile ━ he was a man of his word, and he’d do his job right. But at what cost? ━━ Do you have everything set for today?

[odessasvernon]

date: june 5 location: captain and soldier’s floor of montague hq availability: closed to @ofrosso​

It had been a few days since she returned from Paris. There had been a mixture of emotions that took up war within her from the moment she landed back on Verona’s soil. A part of her felt haunted by the walls of Montague headquarters. She could see visions of her father as she wandered through the floors. She could remember visiting the captain’s floor to see her childhood friends. She could close her eyes and imagine a time where her and Henry would discuss what was happening in the war. All of it was tainted by a revelation and a gun that had slipped from her fingers as she finally took justice for her dad’s murder.

She had forced herself to focus on other things. If she dwelled on that night, she would never get the taste of betrayal out of her mouth. Instead, she had remembered what she was fighting for before her world had turned upside down. She had remembered the way her heart raced when they announced there were two more reaper spots available to be filled. She remembered why she had felt that bout of determination. She wanted to get out of her family’s shadow, and with her father’s ghost finally laid to rest, she could finally accomplish that.

Her eyes had sought out a familiar figure. It felt odd looking for Marcelo Rosso in the crowd of soldiers and captains that took up the space. They had been her tormentor in their youth, a wolf ready to swallow her whole as soon as she slipped through the door, and yet the two of them had slowly built a foundation of trust. It was an unsteady foundation, one filled with hesitance and apprehension, but it was a foundation nonetheless. It was enough of a stepping stone to allow a question to slip through her lips as she finally found the captain.

“Marcelo. Can we talk in private?” 

[dalygrace]

date: march 26 2019 location: montague headquarters status: closed to @odessasvernon​

With a hiss, Grace eases herself off the table she had commandeered as the Montagues stumbled back into their headquarters, battered and shaken by the scene they left behind them in the burning Cathedral. Grace, more preoccupied with not bleeding out in the backseat of the van than with ruminating on all that had been lost, had pilfered the supplies that she needed and slipped off alone. Now, stitched up again, lightheaded from the blood loss and the pain, she grits her teeth in frustration as she cuts the bloody leg of her jeans away at the upper thigh, making room for the bandage she wraps around the still tender wound.

Her head spins as she straightens up, leaning heavily on the table until her vision clears. Grimacing, she limps her way out into the hallway, desperate to escape to her apartment before being caught up in some emotional debrief. She avoids their makeshift infirmary, where no doubt Battista has been patching up their ranks, and slips towards the stairs that will lead her back into the night. Before she can make her blessed escape, however, someone steps into the hallway in front of her and Grace stumbles in surprise. Biting back a curse at the bolt of pain that radiates through her leg, Grace leans heavily against the wall as her brain refocuses, the figure taking form before her: Odessa Vernon.

The younger woman hasn't seen her - Grace could still leave quietly, go home and sleep off the wreck of the night with the help of many pain killers - but the battered look about Odessa stays her. In the dark, Grace had been too preoccupied with her own wounds to take stock of Odessa's - here in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway she sees the cuts and bruises clearly, already tended to by a careful hand. Maybe it's the blood loss, maybe it's the fatigue - maybe it's that the way Odessa holds herself, upright even in pain, fascinates Grace in some nameless way - but the words are out before she can stop herself.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

[ronanivarsson]

when: february 28th, 2019

location: the library

with: @matthiaswarren​​​

Ronan loathes the word--fond. Fondness equates to weakness, to potential exploitation, to a singular person who exists only in the ghosts of his memories now--and yet, it would be a lie if he were to say that he was not fond, to some degree, of Matthias Warren. The man is the very exemplar of a loyal soldier, of a dog that is content to never struggle against its leash, the ideal pawn to push around the board until it serves its purpose, and Ronan will not hesitate to use him as such when it proves useful to him. However, there is something about the man that Ronan recognizes in himself--the instinct to never reveal how sharp his teeth are until its necessary, something inside of him that there will never be enough blood to truly satiate--something that Ronan begrudgingly must admit that he respects, even likes, as much as he is capable of truly liking anything.

Which is why he doesn’t hesitate to purchase two paper cups of coffee from the cart near the city council office, to tuck a brown bag full of pastries underneath his arm with the most recent newspaper on his way to Montague headquarters. He is unsurprised to find the man where he does--tucked in the back of the library in an impressive wingback chair, the weight of the task he has been assigned to do, the darkness of his work, clearly evident in the dark shadows swept underneath his eyes and in the slumped over positioning of his shoulders.

Ronan smiles warmly as he approaches, sets the coffee and food down on the small table in front of him. “You look like you could use this, amico.”

[survivorguiltrp]

Site Premise and Timeline

Almost as important as our rules is telling you about what we’re actually based on! Now, we know Sanctuary is a niche sort of show, relatively speaking, and it’s been off television for years - we get it. As such, we’ve provided you with not only the basic premise of where we’re at current-day on Survivor Guilt, but we’ve also provided a timeline of the vital events throughout the show - including alterations made, as this is an alternate universe anyway! A lot of this happened behind the scenes until the parts we added anyway, so extensive knowledge is not required to join. Just give this a skim!

Premise

Survivor Guilt is an alternate universe Sanctuary roleplay, designed to be welcoming for both those who have and those who have not watched the show. In this timeline, the Cabal are still very much active and the SCIU attack was far more successful than seen in the show finale. It is now years after the attack and the United States has become a disaster zone. SCIU remains operational, under heavy influence of the Cabal, and its existence has lead to a divide between the United States and the United Nations. American abnormals are left fleeing the situation as best they can, but many are unsuccessful and find themselves trapped in a mandatory registration system. Behind the scenes, their experimentation has expanded back into creating Abnormals from humans as well, encouraging the strife present and making it worse in hopes of igniting a full-scale, global war between humans and abnormals.

Timeline

700 AD

The Cabalis Nocturnum is founded as a secret society, intent on collecting beings of power and abnormals.

May 1886

Helen Magnus, Montague John Druitt, James Watson, and Nigel Griffin ("The Five") inject themselves with the source blood — pure, untainted vampire blood. Their abilities surface. Nikola becomes a vampire.

April 1898

The Sanctuary is founded in London, England.

September 1898

Helen arrives in the past from 2011.

The Five are enlisted to track and capture or kill Adam Worth.

Helen shoots Adam, who falls from a cliff into the river below. John shows him a kindness and lets him go, believing he will die in the river.

June 1899

Future Helen finds her way to Hollow Earth and begins negotiations to achieve better relations with the surface dwellers.

November 1899

Helen begins working on the Underground Sanctuary. 

May 1914

The Old City Sanctuary is founded.

April 1951

Bigfoot arrives at the Sanctuary and refuses to leave after Helen saves his life.

Early 1960s

Nigel Griffin dies.

Late 1980s

Ashley Magnus is born.

Early 1990s

Henry Foss is found without parents on the moors and is brought back to the Sanctuary to be raised by Helen.

October 2008

Will Zimmerman joins the Sanctuary.

December 2008

Helen finds her father, Gregory Magnus, still alive. He is cryptic about how and, ultimately, leaves without answering her questions.

January 2009

The Cabal completes a dry run of their latest biological agent, drawing the Sanctuary's attention back to them.

Helen, John, Nikola, James, Will, and Nigel's granddaughter, Clara Griffin, retrieve the source blood from Bhalasaam.

James Watson dies.

Ashley and Henry are taken captive by the Cabal. They escape, but Ashley has been genetically altered.

Ashley brings the source blood to the Cabal, allowing them to complete their project: creating mind-controlled super abnormals.

October 2009

The Cabal attacks the Sanctuary Network with their super abnormals. Tokyo, Beijing, New Delhi, and Moscow Sanctuaries are destroyed. The UK Sanctuary is heavily damaged.

The attacks end in Old City when Ashley's mind control slips and she teleports, caught in the electromagnetic shield and ultimately killing herself and the remaining super abnormal.

John and Nikola begin to dismantle the Cabal to the best of their ability; but they miss a few key players.

November 2009

Kate Freelander joins the Sanctuary.

January 2010

Will dies and, in death, visits a chamber containing the personas of various abnormals. He returns to life with a message for Helen from her father who was also present.

November 2010

Helen and Nikola discover the existence of Hollow Earth through examining a holographic map device left behind for Helen by her father.

December 2010

Adam Worth, not actually dead, tricks Helen into jumping through an inter-dimensional rift, thereby poisoning her so that she will be forced to help him find a way back into Hollow Earth.

Helen, Will, Henry, and Kate travel to Hollow Earth and are killed for their efforts. They are revived in order to track and apprehend Adam, who left Hollow Earth on particularly bad terms.

John and Adam attempt a rescue of the Sanctuary crew, but Adam has other plans, leaving John to be killed by co-conspirators.

Adam is found and nearly apprehended, but escapes in a pod. John, still alive, catches up and makes a deal with Adam. Adam is believed to be dead by John's hand.

May 2011

Helen and Nikola investigate an old tomb containing vampires in stasis. They blow up the tomb, believing they have killed all vampires remaining.

June 2011

The Cabal, slowly rebuilding, extract a few undamaged stasis pods from the tomb destroyed by Helen and Nikola. They begin experimenting in-house to develop different delivery methods than injection.

Praxis is attacked. Abnormals from the outlands of Hollow Earth begin breaching the surface. A camp is set up in Old City to provide shelter to these abnormals.

John appears again to inform Helen of what actually happened, having been betrayed by Adam. The two hunt down Adam and discover him in the middle of traveling back in time using the Praxian energy systems. Adam succeeds and Helen follows, finding herself in 1898 again. John is believed dead in an attempt to overload the machine and stop Adam. Praxis is destroyed and much of the city's population is killed.

July 2011

The Department of Homeland Security founds the Specified Counter-Insurgency Unit (SCIU), claiming to be a research-based unit intending to study and protect against abnormal threats. Nikola is placed in charge of the unit, but the advisor through Homeland is a member of the Cabal.

October 2011

The United Nations cuts off the Sanctuary's funding and support.

Helen attempts to find a new financial supporter to keep the Sanctuary running.

November 2011

The Sanctuary team find out about the existence of SCIU. Tesla leaks them information, not particularly pleased with the organization but believing he can be more useful inside.

December 2011

Abnormal insurgents from Hollow Earth intend to attack SCIU and other leaders in a summit in order to retake the surface. The attack is stopped, but it puts surface dwellers on edge.

Nikola is fired by SCIU. They retain his research and fashion it into a weapon.

Using the weapon fashioned from Nikola's research, SCIU attacks the camps of abnormals from Hollow Earth. Helen attempts to garner the assistance of the populace by revealing the existence of abnormals, but this fails. The attacks are successful and all abnormals within the camps are killed. The Old City Sanctuary is destroyed. Helen is believed to be inside and dead in the blast. Death toll is high.

The Sanctuary is believed to be disbanded and surface locations are closed down; operations continue in the Underground Sanctuary, safe from the discrimination of the surface dwellers.

January 2012

SCIU targets Hollow Earth next and manages to eradicate Abnormal life from a large part of the outlands.

February 2012

SCIU falls under scrutiny from the United Nations. Everything quiets down — for now.

Praxis begins to rebuild.

January 2013

SCIU begins expanding operations again, independently funded by the Cabal.

SCIU begins exposing individuals in the general population to source blood, triggering biological changes which produce new abnormals, termed 'chimeras'.

July 2014

The presence of abnormals is confirmed to the public globally, after years of debate and conspiracy theories following Helen's announcement.

The United Nations condemns the actions of SCIU in the Battle for the Surface in 2011 and promises to implement new safeguards for Abnormal safety.

January 2015

The United Nations insists on the disbanding of SCIU. The US government fights this and separated from the United Nations.

To help counter the harmful possibilities of SCIU's continued operation, the United Nations begins developing a team of their own: the International Specialized Investigative Taskforce (ISIT), with global jurisdiction and the intent to serve in place of the Sanctuary. In honor of its predecessor, the first headquarters is built on the ground of the Old City Sanctuary.

March 2015

After a few false starts, the United Nations places Nikola in charge of ISIT much to his reluctance after the SCIU debacle.

July 2017

The American abnormals rebel against the SCIU initiative of abnormal registration. Many die. The remainder are relocated to camps. Those who escape flea to the safety of the Canadian border and are taken in by ISIT.

ISIT expands to feature locations in Hong Kong, the UK, and Mexico City. They attempt to expand into New York, but are blocked by the government.

January 2018

SCIU is almost entirely Cabal agents.

Source blood experiments expand with alterations to the formula to encourage aggression and lack of ability control in the new chimeras.

October 2019

SCIU's abnormal registration is pushed through as law.

Helen returns to the surface, hearing of the strife, to find Nikola taking care of it. Disagreements ensue on how best to handle the situation. No resolution process is decided upon until months later.

January 2020

Ground breaks on the London ISIT facilities, intending to be the biggest facility and eventually the main headquarters of the organization, to allow more space for abnormal refugees in the Old City facilities.

An entrance to the Underground Sanctuary is completed in the United States to provide an escape route for fleeing abnormals. The tunnel is kept protected by ISIT agents.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, CHARLIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of DESDEMONA. Admin Rosey: There was a certain shrewdness that seemed to be underlying Delilah’s interview. A certain breath of life was given to her that showed in your writing. It was a little bit more romantic, a little bit more cynical, but still very frank with the voice that you gave her. Like you said, she has a different direction and tone to her that seemed very unique to Delilah. I am honestly so excited to how you will develop her. And I’m even more excited to watch the wreckage of Othello and Desdemona on the dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Charlie

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | 5-6/10. I’m a law student with a side job so my rl can be pretty stressful from time to time. In addition, I tend to write a lot and like to take my time with my replies so that I can actually be satisfied with how they turned out. I’ve learned in the past months that I’ve been in DV now that it works best for me to queue my replies so that one will be posted at least every few days so that I’m not struggling to keep up with your activity requirements but also don’t stress myself out too much.

Timezone | CET

Current/Past RP Accounts | may I introduce you to https://ofduvals.tumblr.com/ and https://ofdupont.tumblr.com/

In Character

Character | Delilah Bello aka Desdemona

What drew you to this character? | My interest in Delilah goes way back to a time long before I even applied for Katherine for the first time. I originally felt drawn to her because she’s one of my favorite Shakespearean characters and Othello is kind of my favorite play and the only one I actually knew a whole monologue from cause it was part of the House of Night books lmao. Anyways, a lot has changed since then and somehow I still feel drawn to her. In the beginning, I was a bit skeptical about whether I should really apply for her or not because at first glance she does have some similarities to Celeste. However, the more I thought about it and the longer I wrote this app, the more I came to realize how different they truly are. Whereas Celeste thrives on revenge and ‘hate’ to some extent, Delilah thrives on love. Love for others, but mostly love for herself. She doesn’t feel the need to make anybody pay. Does she want everybody, who’s currently doubting her, to realize that they’re wrong and that she’s never been anything but faithful and loyal? Definitely, but she doesn’t wish them any bad because they can’t see it yet. She’ll just continue proving herself until they’ll have no other choice but to see her for who she really is. I feel like Delilah will make it possible for me to approach the war and the characters from another perspective than Celeste and Katarina allow me to. Both of the characters I’m playing so far have found their place in the mob and life (even if Celeste isn’t necessarily as happy with it as she could be, she still has a place she’s comfortable) whereas Delilah finds herself at the beginning of a new episode in her life. This struggle really intrigues me and, to be honest, I can’t wait to see where she ends up? Not to mention that I’m always a HUGE sucker for characters who are misunderstood. The desperation she feels to finally make them see that betrayal isn’t in her nature is something that makes me so emotional and so eager to delve deeper into that and the overall situation she currently finds herself in. I feel like there are a lot of possible ways her development could go and I really want to be the one leading her through that. Delilah is capable of greatness even if most of Verona doesn’t see it just yet.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | PLOT 01 - Another person might have turned bitter after everything that happened to her. After everything that is still happening to her. And yet, she tries to remain positive and focus on the good things in life. Tries not to accept the blame everybody is trying to put on her, tries to leave his insecurities in his responsibility. It’s not her fault how everything turned out, she’s never done anything to deserve his jealousness and hate, has never been anything but a faithful, loving wife. It’s not always easy, however. As much as she tries to focus on the fact that she was a woman worth loving before him and has to be a woman worth loving after him, it’s hard not to let the mean comments and gossip get to her. I want to delve deeper into that, maybe see her breakdown after one terribly tough day. How does she build herself up again after that? How does she continuously focus on the good things in life, in herself?

PLOT 02 - I want to test and play with her loyalties. Neither Delilah nor her family has ever been involved with neither mob before she met Odin and even nowadays her family does their best to stay out of this war. She’s married into the Capulets and ever since her marriage came to an end they’ve let her feel how little she truly belongs with them on her own. I think it could be really interesting if somebody from the other side of the Adige would take an interest in her and promise her the acceptance and feeling of belonging that she doesn’t get from the Capulets. Right now she wouldn’t even consider turning her back on the Capulets and thus, proving them all right. However, she’s only human, after all, and if everything seems so much better on the Montague side of the Adige, she’ll definitely face a struggle of doing what is right and proving her loyalty and doing what feels easy and good.

PLOT 03 - Delilah is a woman with a big heart and a soft nature. The type of person who puts the well-being of others ahead of her own, somebody who wouldn’t ever dream about hurting another person for real if it’s not in self-defense. A trait that won’t get her far in the mob. I want to explore how she deals with the violence she’s confronted on a daily basis. Does she have a bad conscience because of it? Does she find a way to justify it for herself? And how does she deal with being the attacker and not just a more or less innocent bystander? I feel that would be something worth exploring in flashback threads, but I also think that it has become quite relevant again because now that she doesn’t have Odin’s support anymore, she has to prove herself once more. Maybe more than she ever has before. I’d love to throw her into situations that wouldn’t leave any sensible person unimpressed, that make her struggle with the values she’s grown up with. In short, I want to explore the struggle she certainly has between doing what’s ‘right’ and expected of her and what her conscience tells her. How far is she willing to go to earn her place in the Capulet ranks?

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

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona? At this question, a sad smile sneaks onto her lips. The only right response to the question is on top of her tongue immediately, she can’t bring herself to say it, though. She can’t risk the memories of her happiest day being questioned and torn to shreds like her loyalty and her whole marry. She won’t risk it. The sad truth is that the Cathedral has been her favorite place for years and still is because it reminds of better days. It reminds her of her wedding day, the day she was the happiest woman in at least all of Verona if not the whole world. Whenever she’s in the Capulet headquarters she’s reminded of that day, some days it gives her strength, some days it makes here melancholic as well as nostalgic, yearning for past days when life seemed easier and better. These are the days she tries to forget about the location completely and tries to focus simply on the reason why she’s there nowadays, for professional reasons only. “I’m afraid I’ll sound rather boring”, she responds finally responds after a moment of thought, forcing the smile to take on a happier note, a slightly more playful one, “but my favorite place in Verona is my flat.” It used to be our flat, it still feels weird to say ‘my’ flat to her, but that’s simply how things are these days. “I mean they always say there’s no place like home, right?” It’s the one place she can truly be herself, where she can block out all the noises and voices doubting her loyalty completely. Even if it still feels off in some ways, simply because he’s still there and not there at the same time, his presence still lurking everywhere even when he’s long gone. She’s started to redesign the flat slowly but surely after work and on the weekends, but still, it still feels like theirs and not hers.

What does your typical day look like? “I’m afraid that once again the answer is going to be rather boring.” Opposed to what one might assume after all the rumors and gossip about her, she wouldn’t exactly describe her daily life as the most exciting one. As big as her thirst for adventure is, ever since he left her, she’s stuck in a rut, trying to figure out how to live on her own again. So she prefers a daily routine. Too much has already changed in the past months so any sort of new stability she can get is calming. “Usually I wake up way before dawn.” She doesn’t sleep as well anymore as she used to be, the bed feels too cold and empty without his warm body next to her. She’s thought about buying a new bed, but she can’t for that would mean accepting that her marriage is well and truly over. And she can’t do that, not yet at least. “I always try to do some yoga first thing in the morning to start the day right.” It’s something she’s started to do in college, but quit doing during her marriage because she always wanted to stay in bed with him for as long as she could, not wanting to leave his side before she had to. “Then I make myself some breakfast. Personally, I think it’s very important to start your day with a solid foundation so I like to take my time with it. Also, what’s really important to me is a no screen rule before I’ve finished breakfast. I neither check my phone nor my emails nor anything else really before I’ve finished breakfast and cleaned the dishes.” This is a fairly new development, she doesn’t want to hear anything about what’s going on in Verona anymore before she’s had some time completely to herself. “I leave for work at 7:30 am sharp. It’s always nice to be the first one in the office and get already started before the rest arrive.” Lips curled up into a soft smile, she shrugs. Her work as a paralegal is one of the few things that have stayed the same in the light of the recent changes. It was always important to her to earn her own income, especially after she’s seen what it had done to her mother to never have worked a day in her life. However, she planned on quitting her job the moment she got pregnant, wanting to stay home to raise and take care of the children. But alas, these children would never see the light of day now. “Another thing that is really important to me is having a freshly cooked dinner each night. It’s something I’ve grown up with and a tradition I’ve always wanted to keep for my own household. There’s nothing quite similar to having some nice, filling dinner with your loved ones sharing stories about the day, wouldn’t you agree?” Only that nowadays there was nobody sitting at the table next to her, it was just her, the food and a glass of wine. Quite depressing really. To be honest, she probably would have started to eat outside as a new tradition if cooking wasn’t something that calmed her down and helped her cope with things.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far? She knows what they want her to say, what they’re expecting to hear. She knows that they want to hear is that marrying Odin is her biggest mistake and it might as well be. They want to hear that she regrets deeply not having listened to her father. That she wished she left him sooner. But she can’t bring herself to say that. She just can’t. Even after everything she’s been through thanks to him, despite everything she’s still going through, she doesn’t hate him. If anybody believed her story, she knows they’d tell her that’s perfectly acceptable to hate him and that’s not what she struggles with. She knows she’s allowed to hate him, she just can’t. How could she hate the person who looks just like the love of her life even if he condemns her and is so much crueler than the man she fell in love with? She knows there’s still that man inside him, she just knows it. Even if it’s buried deep under the facade of the monster that he shows the world nowadays. Hearing the interviewer clear their throat brings her back into reality and a soft redness sneaks into her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I was lost in thought”, a sheepish smile accompanying her words she tugs a silky strand of her hair behind her left ear, “I can’t think of anything right now, however. I’m not going to say I haven’t made mistakes, everybody does it. It’s only human. After all, Seneca already said ‘errare humanum est’.” Having taking Ancient History in college as a class definitely has some advantages. “I just like to think that every mistake gives you the opportunity to learn something. Sure, sometimes it’s more painful than other times, but the tougher it is, the more you can learn? So I’m afraid there is no such thing as ‘the biggest mistake’ to me?”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you? “I guess the hardest thing is to move on when you don’t want to move on but have no other choice but to accept that sometimes things are simply out of your control.” A soft smile follows her words. “Something I still struggle with, to be completely honest.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what and who she’s talking about. “Another thing that isn’t always easy is unconditional self-love and yet, I don’t think there is anything that is more important?” She shrugs howsoever slightly. “I mean if we don’t love ourselves, how can we expect anybody else to love us? I know, I know, it sounds really cheesy, but the one person who’s always been and always be by your side is yourself. So you can either be your biggest enemy or you can choose to be the one who always has your back, the one who sees the good in you, even if nobody else sees it.” A short pause follows her words as a hint of defiance finds its way into her dark eyes. “And I plan to be that person for myself, even if I’m still working on it.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? Only with quite some effort, she manages to bite back a dry chuckle. It’s a question she finds herself confronted with on what feels like a daily basis. Everybody seems to question her loyalty to the Capulets, seems to assume that she doesn’t give a shit about them, isn’t as involved and dedicated as they are. They all seem to assume that now that Odin turned is back on her, she’ll turn her back on them at the next best chance she gets. That she’s the snake in their rows patiently waiting to poison them all before she sells them out. The thought alone makes her angry and incredibly sad at the same time. Angry because what has she ever done to earn that suspicion? Even if she did cheat on Odin - which she didn’t, not that anybody gives a damn -, why should that automatically mean she’ll betray the Capulets as well? Has she ever done anything but her best to earn her place with them? Sad because it seems like there’s nothing she can do to make them listen, to make them believe her. It’s like she’s screaming from the top of her lungs, but no words come out. However, she just knows they’ll finally see the truth, eventually. She knows she can make them see that she’s on their side for good. “I think that war is never good, for anybody”, Delilah begins carefully, choosing every word with attentive precision, “however, I think that we should hope for a quick and soon win by the Capulets. A win and thus end of the war can’t come soon enough, I mean we all see what the war is doing to our beloved Verona. And quite frankly, even though some might say that choosing between the mobs is like choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea, I think that the Capulets take care of the city like the Montagues never could.” Maybe it’s stupid to support the Capulets so outspokenly and publicly, yet, she doesn’t feel like she has another choice, to be completely honest. She needs to show her support and loyalty at every chance she gets if she wants them to realize the error of their ways.

Extras: A Pinterest Board.

[scotianostra]

January 17th 1883 saw the birth of Compton Mackenzie, in Hartlepool in North East England.

Another, but someone who is always going to included in the top Scottish authors list, the name Compton was actually one of his middle names, as far as I can gather, but it was also used my several family members as their stage name, Mackenzie being the ancestral surname.

Compton Mackenzie is today best remembered for writing two comic novels set in Scotland – The Monarch of the Glen, which inspired the BBC drama series of the same name, and the much-loved Whisky Galore, which has twice been adapted for cinema. The story of a fictional Hebridean island taking advantage of a ship wreck full of spirits at the height of wartime rationing has entertained generations since it first appeared in 1947. The most recent cinematic version, starring Gregor Fisher was released in May 2018.Compton Mackenzie was much more than a gentle chronicler of the Highlands and islands in the mid-20th century.

He was, at various times, an actor, soldier, Government spy, political activist, journalist, Jacobite supporter, cultural commentator, snooker enthusiast, raconteur and, in 1928, a co-founder of the National Party of Scotland – the forerunner to the modern SNP.

Andro Linklater, who wrote a biography of Mackenzie, commented: “(He) wasn’t born a Scot, and he didn’t sound like a Scot. But nevertheless his imagination was truly Scottish.” 

Edward Montague Compton Mackenzie was born in West Hartlepool in 1883 and raised in London. His grandfather Henry Compton was a well-known Shakespearean actor of the Victorian era. A history graduate of Magdalen College, Oxford, the young Mackenzie published his first novel in 1912 but his writing career was stalled by the outbreak of war. He quickly signed up and saw action at Gallipoli. In 1915 he was recruited into the fledgling Secret Service and was posted across the eastern Mediterranean. Although he would later be awarded a knighthood, Mackenzie was no darling of the British establishment. In 1932 he was hauled before the courts and fined for breaching the Official Secrets Act for writing Greek Memories – a candid reflection of his time as a spy. At a time when the British public was scarcely aware of the security services, Mackenzie freely outlined its organisation. It was withdrawn from sale and was only published in full as recently as 2011.

In 1933 he took revenge on the Secret Service with Water on the Brain, an obvious swipe at the Service. Despite its satirical cover, he managed to include a few genuine morsels – such as the fact that the chief of the Service always wrote in green ink. At story’s end, the location of the Secret Service’s headquarters is revealed in a spy thriller and the spooks have to move out. The building becomes an asylum for “the servants of bureaucracy who have been driven mad in the service of the country”. By this point Mackenzie was already resident in Scotland and had become close friends with the poet Hugh MacDiarmid and the influential writer, thinker and adventurer Robert Cunninghame Graham. Together they helped establish the National Party of Scotland in 1928, which emerged in 1934 as the modern SNP.

Mackenzie settled on the Hebridean island of Barra and concentrated on his most ambitious project, The Four Winds of Love. Gavin Wallace, another of his biographers, later wrote: “The Four Winds of Love, published in six volumes between 1937 and 1945 and containing almost 1 million words, is one of the most ambitious Scottish novels of the twentieth century, an enormous historical odyssey which anatomises the politics of peripheral nationalism both throughout Europe and in Britain, again through semi-autobiographical character development.” 

But it was Mackenzie’s comic novels that won him UK-wide fame and fortune. Whisky Galore, based on a real-life incident in Eriskay in 1941, was first adapted for the big screen by Ealing studios and released to popular acclaim in 1948. The enduring appeal of the novel was later summed up by one Scotsman literary critic: “So what if it perpetrates the old, cliched ‘Brigadoon’ myth? Scots, English, American or Martian, no-one can resist this tale of ill-gotten whisky gain on a Scottish island in wartime. It’s simply hilarious.” 

Such was Mackenzie’s status as an elder statesman of letters he was knighted in 1952 and remained a much-respected cultural commentator for the rest of his life. In later years he lived in Drummond Place, in Edinburgh’s New Town, where he died from cancer aged 89, in 1972. Lavish tributes followed. Dr Robert McIntyre, president of the SNP  described Mackenzie as “the Grand Old Man of Scotland”. Novelist Eric Linklater said he was a “consummate stylist, who, unlike most writers, also lived with style.”

Compton was interred on his beloved Barra at the ancient Cille Bharra St Barr’s Kirkyard, a  friend of his played a pipe Lament at the funeral, and himself collapsed and died.

[riddledeep]

This is a map of Hawthorn Haven. View the full map collection HERE.

A map of the land on Planet Delk and the cloudland territory above it, Hawthorn Haven. Worldbuilding information about both Delk and Hawthorn Haven is provided below the cut. Flags are numbered from left to right.

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1) PixieCo - A subsidiary of Pixies Inc. As of the 130 Prompt "The Other One," PixieCo is headed by Chief Pixie Smith, with Lambton as his vice president and Calvert as his alpha retinue. Pixies have laid claim to the entire island where PixieCo is located.

The following drones are also transferred to PixieCo once Smith takes command: Roberts, Powell, Fielding, Iyer, Montague, Larson, Glenn, Stamp, Whitaker, Mullins, Tolbert, Stammers, Dimmock, and Michaels.

2) Whitestorm Town - The main settlement where almost all the Fairy settlers live. Note that it controls the bay where the Fairy World merchant ships dock.

3) Fairywinkle-Cosma Cabin - A cabin Cosmo and Wanda built on Delk after being assigned to their Delkian godkid, Jalla. The cabin is a convenient place for Poof to stay if he visits his family and godbrother but is itching for his own space completely separate from their castle. The cabin appears in the 130 Prompts "Watch and Learn," "Temptation," and in Devil's Backbone.

4 + 5) Twilight Point + Iceplunge Village- The settlement founded by Hiccup and the other young Fae. 

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PLANET DELK Delk is an Alien planet home to several enormous myriapod races. The original dominant species (based on Arthropleuridea) was driven under by the current dominant species: large anthropomorphic centipedes (based on Scolopendra gigantea). Though technically all residents of Delk can be called Delkians, the term is only applied to the current dominant race of centipede humanoids

 Long after saying good-bye to Tammy and Tommy, Cosmo and Wanda become godparents to a Delkian named Jalla, who makes brief appearances in "Watch and Learn," "Temptation," Hawthorn Haven, and Devil's Backbone.

Like all planets, Delk itself exists on Plane 2 of Existence. Delk is a third the size of Earth and largely frozen. It is home to almost exclusively white fauna, most of which resemble owls, rabbits, mink, muskoxes, reindeer, arctic foxes, and wolves.

The entire ocean freezes over in winter and completely thaws in summer; during this thawing period, large polar bear-like predators make their way to the mainland while the walrus and seal creatures thrive. Strange deep-sea creatures fill the ocean- you won't find fish easily in this world. The Delkians are very much a hunting people, even as children. They are a matriphagic race; the offspring devour their mother a few weeks after birth.

Fairy World and Delk are neutral to one another; Delk's government is aware of Fairy World as a trading partner and they understand Fairies possess magic, so they are a step closer to Fairy World than Yugopotamia is. However, only Delkian godkids are aware of fairy godparents (Fairies do not advertise the Amity program, which is why their headquarters is tucked away in a decrepit-looking building where no tourists bother to stray).

Though they have their cultural differences and tend to feel uncomfortable in one another's company, Delk and Fairy World would be quick to unite against a larger threat. Both peoples trace their ancestry to a common classification of taxonomy: the order Tylwyth Teg.

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HAWTHORN HAVEN

Like Fairy World, Hawthorn Haven is a cloudland colony of the Fae that exists across multiple Planes of Existence; however, the clouds around Delk are very thin and not worth settling on above the main cloudland area on Plane 3. Long ago, fairy godparents didn't always hide their identities from those on their godkid's planet. Unfortunately, adults from several Alien races have threatened the peace of Fairykind in the past.

Ties were severed with those Aliens, but Fairies' concerns about cruel adults still linger in their culture. For many Fairies, the 1st Creature War was the final straw. As humans grew more numerous on Earth, several of them split from Fairy World and ended up in the previously unsettled cloudlands around Delk. 

Hawthorn Haven is similar to Hawaii in that it is small and far from the Fae mainland. However, the weather is very cold here (Its summers are colder than Fairy World winters). Other cloudland territories exist in the universe, but the only three that are mentioned in my 'fics are the Fairy World colony, the Hawthorn Haven colony, and the early motherland of the Fae, Elphame.

Up until the 'fic of the same name, Hawthorn Haven was merely occupied by a few skittish Fairies who formed a small settlement and have kept an eye on the planet's occupants. These settlers have few resources since growing food in the cloudlands is never easy, and frozen Delk is hardly the best location for a farm. They are wholly reliant on Fairy World and would struggle if their food supply were cut off.

Because Hawthorn Haven is so far from the Big Wand in Fairy World, Haveners lean towards simpler, less-magical lifestyles than their Fairy World counterparts. The Pixies have taken advantage of this by founding PixieCo, which almost entirely regulates magic usage on Delk and in Hawthorn Haven. With PixieCo as the major player in this corner of the universe, each family of settlers receives a set amount of decent-level magic per year (and a larger amount if they upgrade their package to premium).

In the 'fic Hawthorn Haven, Foop's alternate personality (Hiccup) uses his silver tongue to coax a large handful of Fairy and Anti-Fairy "flower children" to run away from Fairy World and live their adult lives in a new frontier where they can make their own rules. But that's a story for another day...

Click HERE for my Fairly OddParents worldbuilding masterpost

[ofrallis]

ship to wreck // @matthiaswarren february 23rd, montague headquarters, 5 pm

Uncertainty had shrouded the day in its veil like a reigning fog, casting fears astray and sending doubts into a scatter -- and all Alexander could do was set his sightless gaze ahead and turn on his heel in dizzying cycles to match the prowl of the unseen beasts. Yet what frustrated him most of all was the fact that this dance-like chase was incited by nothing more than idle curiosity. Or at least whatever trickster sentiment that had disguised itself as curiosity and set him on the treacherous, ever-branching path towards Rafaella.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find as he made his way to the basement where she was kept. Perhaps an empty cell housing nothing but bloodied chains and the tormented ghost of Rafaella’s presence. Or perhaps a metal-carved grave harboring the dented shell of her corpse and the parting gift with which Matthias had sealed her fate. Or perhaps he had only foreseen what he had actually found -- which was Rafaella in the lively, ever-enduring flesh, hunched upon a throne of her own making, draped in a vivid, harshly-cut shroud of blood and bruising. Alexander had met her eyes for a split-second, and then he had walked away.

A swift drive to the Capital Library, and now here he was, marching up the stairway toward the captains’ room, ears screeching with the grating drag of claws as his rage slashed and scraped beneath the bars of its cage. With outward calm, Alexander walked in, shutting the door soundlessly behind him before stepping up to Matthias’s desk and crossing his arms against his chest. He would have elected to plant his hands atop the desk and lean into the confrontation, instead, and the scathing reminder of his incapacitation, along with the lack of control it has wrought upon all areas of his life in the recent weeks, only served to feed into his fury. “Matthias, why are we still keeping her?” He demanded, finding no need for the preludes and overtures he usually employed in conversation. “It’s been nearly a week. Which, I imagine, has certainly been enough for you to vent in all the creative ways that you need to.”

[ofaguilar]

darkness has its teachings // @gertrudezhang february 28th, montague headquarters, 5 pm

Standing before Genevieve’s office was akin to teetering on the edge of a precipice. Her entire lifetime among the Montagues could be perceived as such; only this time, Ramona did not have the luxury of standing her ground and becoming her own center of gravity. She did not have the leeway to look from the horizon above to the void below and stake her claim on the halfway point between the two. She had to make a choice; either wait for the treacherous peak to crumble beneath her feet, or seize her fate and take the fall.

She didn’t feel ready for it. Her grieving wounds had turned into numbed scabs, but they wept and bled all the same. Her grovelling crawl had turned into a vigorous climb, but her steps faltered and waned all the same. She has only just begun to walk the winding path of recovery, and yet she was setting out on a venture into ravished, marked-off lands that she had vowed to never approach or enter. But the promise had proved to be a shield of metal in a field of fire; melting into a worthless, silver-soaked puddle before she could even move to brandish it -- and the illusion of choice had proved to be nothing more than a deceitful veil over her hope-filled eyes; fraying into a thin, ragged clump of tatters at the slightest touch of a blade. She was never going to be ready, but she would force herself to be.

The thought shattered the ice that had frozen Ramona’s fist in place against the door, dragging it down in three swift knocks against glistening rosewood. Tension gripped her when Genevieve’s muted response echoed across; Ramona hadn’t spoken to the woman since her promotion, and enough change had overtaken them both in that period of time that it didn’t seem far-fetched to expect that they would be unrecognizable to one another. But she couldn’t let that hold her back. She couldn’t. “Good afternoon, signorina,” She mildly greeted upon entering, clearing her throat and shuffling her hands before saying, “I was wondering if I might have a minute of your time.”

[diveronaevents]

The days and nights that follow the Trial come and go not unlike the trial itself-- strangely, and without a true sense of closure, any hint of justice lost to the currents beneath the Castelvecchio. The verdict on Alvise’s murder remains murky and Celeste remains hidden behind Capulet walls, her status largely unknown to the Montagues except for what slivers of truth her captors are willing to parcel out in their mercy. Violence continues, unfettered and everblooming, each day bringing rising casualties and minor destruction, each day there’s new smoke on the horizon, new ash littering the cobblestone streets. The Witches remain silent and unseen, absent from their usual posts at their properties, unfamiliar faces wordlessly taking their place.

The more superstitious of Veronans in the know must surely wonder what the price of a witch’s bruised ego is. Would they take their guests’ insolence in stride? Had the city lost its sentinels of centuries to their own pride and exasperation? Had a breaking point finally been reached? “Nonsense,” their more secular counterpoints scoff, “Not every silence is ominous.”

But the avid reader might have already learned that circumstances are not so simple, and something as tricky as fate is not so easily brushed off by mortals who fancy themselves gods. Luck and tragedy have a way of walking in tandem, one striking after the other, one wearing the other’s face while speaking in their own voice. If there was luck to be had, it would come bearing tragedy’s likeness.

There was only a light drizzle at first. Citizens walked with a quicker step, lifting their newspapers above their heads; most continued on in their business, as most would. But the drizzle quickened into a brisk pouring; doors closed shut, tables were taken in from outside; still, no one had any reason to be worried— and why would they? The weather has been sunny in Verona for months, a blessing upon the tenuous peace that had been so lasting. But every peace lasts only for so long.

It began with the whipping winds, the gales strong enough to shake windows and tear plants from their roots; debris flew, striking the shingles off rooftops, colliding with ancient monuments and shattering window panes. Then, the lightning. One great bolt, the thunder so deafening one would wonder if the gods themselves bore a grudge against Verona. All at once, darkness blankets the city. No power, no lights, all as evening arrives, the secondary player to the storm, indifferent to the destruction wrought.

But just as some may think a reprieve has finally come with the shadows, the flood begins. The Adige rises before anyone can beg for its mercy, filling the streets with rapidly moving water, first to the height of one’s ankles— then to their waists. The masses desperately make their way to higher ground, racing to cathedral rooftops, the very top of Lamberti Tower, anywhere to be shielded from the rain above and the rushing current below. It seems as if no one is safe in Verona, and certainly not either of the two most notorious families.

MERCUTIO and CELIA were in the middle of a skirmish on Capulet territory with MACBETH and PARIS when the storm struck. The four are forced to seek refuge in the The Dark Lady. The Capulets attempt to bar the Montagues out to strand them, but the Montagues manage to force their way in, enraged and hungry for blood. The power goes out— a dangerous game of cat and mouse ensues.

Elsewhere, VOLUMNIA encounters ANTONY in peril— the adviser was in the Gardens of the Twelfth Night Museum when a tree collapsed onto one of the standing statues, the fallen marble pinning him underneath. Not long after, BENVOLIO arrives, having heard the commotion from inside, and helps ANTONY regain the upper hand— only to earn the adviser’s ire against the Capulets manifested in a punch straight to his jaw.

CORDELIA and TITANIA, meanwhile, find themselves stranded on Montague territory in the midst of rising waters. Wading through, they find refuge in the first building they can find— the library of Montague headquarters. HAMLET and SEBASTIAN are waiting for them and take the opportunity to either separate the two or use one to get the other to talk about Alvise.

GONERIL, having accompanied ANTONY to the museum thinking CRESSIDA could have been hidden there, split up with the adviser to investigate the offices on the lower level. She runs into ROSALINE, who is prepping the museum for the storm, and the Capulet immediately goes on the offensive, to the soldier’s delight.

BIANCA, having been tasked with integrating herself in Montague contacts, finds herself in To Tame A Soup the hour the storm strikes. As the patrons realize the severity of the storm and begin to panic, she attempts to leave before the situation worsens. ROMEO spots BIANCA and gives chase— she realizes she can play dumb or own up and risk the consequences or explain herself by giving the appearance of a genuine interest in the soup kitchen and possibly gaining the Montague’s mercy as the storm worsens around them.

TYBALT, having left Measure by Measure not long before the storm hit, resorts to breaking into an abandoned building to reach safety, only to injure himself in the process, catching his skin on the broken glass. NICK BOTTOM, already having sought refuge inside, spots the Capulet and can’t help but taunt and provoke him into a fight, wanting to see if even the Tiger has limits. It’s broken up quickly when the water reaches inside and they’re forced to climb to the roof and find safety.

REGAN, having been sent to investigate Measure by Measure, finds herself and the rest of the fight club patrons plunged into darkness. Chaos erupts among the fighters laden with adrenaline, and there’s no clear way out in the confusion and dark. BRUTUS emerges, having recognized the Capulet, and is torn between throwing REGAN into the middle of it all or helping her gain control and command over the situation.

LAVINIA and LADY MACBETH are out near Montague territory when the storm strikes, LADY MACBETH intent on toughening up LAVINIA. They run across a stranded Montague who, having nearly been caught by the floodwater, scaled up to the rooftop of the Two Gentlemen. A rookie, they are, having just joined the Montagues as a drug runner, they tearfully confess. It’s too late to turn back from the filth of this life, Lavinia— this is war. However, a sudden appearance by CLEOPATRA puts a halt to their plans, and she steps in front of the Montague rookie, intent on making it clear that the Capulets’ antics stop here. Another target upon which to set our crosshairs, LADY MACBETH reminds LAVINIA.

At the Lamberti Tower, OPHELIA and IMOGEN have met to discuss the aftermath of Alvise’s death for a possible story to go to the press. As chance would have it, HIPPOLYTA was in the right place at the right time, catching sight of them meeting at the foot of the tower. As the storm worsens, she follows them up, suspecting them of working against the Capulets— she ambushes them both, emerging with her gun drawn, and grabs IMOGEN. OPHELIA, in all her grief and anger, refuses to let the situation spiral out of control. A shot rings out.

CELIA, following her skirmish, is crossing a treacherous path back to Montague headquarters when she finds VIOLA helping pull an injured Capulet free from flood waters. The Capulet recovers, only to pull a blade out at the sight of CELIA, lethal and full of newfound adrenaline. CELIA only has a split second to gather her bearings and ready herself for a fight; VIOLA realizes the situation needs to be diffused before anything worse comes from it.

JULIET is alerted to a massive crash in the area of Capulet headquarters where CRESSIDA is being held hostage. The wall had been partially damaged in the storm, enough for Montague to slip through, leaving the space she had once occupied empty. The heiress frantically runs out of the headquarters and runs into PORTIA who, sensing something is amiss, corners JULIET and demands answers.

HORATIO finds himself caught in a rapid current and barely has enough energy to stay afloat and breathe. He tries desperately to cling to whatever he can find, but to no avail. As the water takes him towards Capulet territory, MIRANDA, having found some higher ground, spots him and hurriedly goes to save him. Grabbing him, she is suddenly pitted against nature, and by sheer force manages to pull him to safety, the both of them exhausted beyond belief. Relief comes in the form of HELENUS, who was in the middle of conducting mass when the storm struck.

CRESSIDA, having not escaped very far In the storm due to a sprained ankle, runs into EDMUND who admonishes her attempt at escape. However, they catch the attention of FORTINBRAS who recognizes his chance to win Damiano’s favor. The Capulet draws his gun at FORTINBRAS, but is shot at before he can, a bullet grazing his wrist and causing him to drop his gun. PUCK emerges, balancing the scales for his offense against BEATRICE, and allowing FORTINBRAS and CRESSIDA to escape.

OVERVIEW: Welcome to the third scene of act one, dear friends and roleplayers! A terrible, ominous, almost supernatural storm has gripped Verona, and our Montagues and Capulets and in-betweens are caught right in the middle of it. Many muses were performing their daily duties when the storm struck, and now find themselves in precarious situations— please feel free to play out any of the above scenarios out on the dash! And just because your muse is in one location doesn’t mean they can’t be anywhere else before or immediately after the storm, which takes place on September 29th. Please date threads anytime from September 29th to October 9th, with the storm starting to affect Verona at 4:45PM on September 29th. As always, feel free to write any of your previous threads as well.

We also hope you all enjoyed FORTINBRAS and HELENUS’ introductions— their bios will be released in the next few days, so keep an eye out for them! We purposefully tried to keep their involvement to a minimum or at least made it possible for muses who have interactions with them to write threads prior to or following their involvement.

Thank you all for your wonderful activity, and we hope you enjoy this plot drop!

[santodomingos]

DATE.            twenty-seventh of may.

LOCATION.   the streets of verona.

STATUS.        closed, @hermionediangelo.

Sleepless nights have been a part of his routine for many years, the night sky his only companion as he faced nightmares too palpable for any child to bear. The dark circles under his eyes are a trait he will never get rid of, and he has accepted it ━ his life a tale of encountering peace upon ruins, rummaging dismantled altars in the search of holy remains. Bellamy is in the state of sempiternal hoping, half-dreaming as he follows the moon, wondering if the sun was even a real bliss he could obtain. Even when it rose, breaching every cloud with its rays, a star did very little to brighten Bellamy’s features, freckles glittering, irises dissolved into a muted hue of caramel. Light was merciless upon his eyes as he walked around the city he was born in, citizens coming  &  going with no time to waste (this was one precious thing to have in Verona, as life could meet an abrupt end far more swiftly than in any other place, after all). Soon enough, he would have to turn back to the Montague headquarters ━ his lunch break was hardly ever used for eating, his soul far too restless for the Santo Domingo to bother with the state of his own body. He was a wanderer, even when at home. He had no place of resting, no final burial ground. Perhaps even in death, Bellamy was bound to travel the Earth, until he discovered a place big enough for his butchered heart to lay upon  &  finally breathe with ease. His mind is that far away, on distant mountains and isolated temples, when he stumbles upon a woman ━ injured, as all people from Verona seem to be, whether inside or out. Bellamy’s response is instinctive, as he quickly picks up her fallen belongings with an embarrassed half-smile. ━━ I apologize, signora. No harm was caused, I hope, to you and to your possessions? ━━ her face is not unfamiliar, and Bellamy can only wonder why (he can also pray the visible ailment bestowed upon her is not a fault of his own people, and so, he does).