MxF Supernatural Girlies Within

[Scripturient]

"If all we have is this imagined empty canvas of endless possibility...this potential heaven...then let it be our haven. A place of marriage between two souls desperate to feel something beyond the cruel tedium of real life. If we truly be the masters who dream these dreams then let our innermost desires fuel the adventures we create and the love that we make here, let it all unfold endlessly or for only a brief moment in time but for as long as it breathes let it devour and I will forgive you your boldness if you will be so good as to forgive me mine..." ~ Chantarelle​

Time Zone: Pacific

Activity Level: Usually least once a week, sometimes more. I'll communicate if things change.

Limits: In general, none but the usual suspects (piss, shit, vomit, etc. .... ya know? The usuals!)

Preferred Genres: Romance always! Supernatural is my bread and butter but I will occasionally crave a medieval low fantasy RP as well though I am more picky with those.

Plotting Preferences: Story and character development are super important to me. I adore a good love/hate relationship and everything that goes along with it. I want complication, psychological torture and emotional upheaval, but most of all growth. I find all the planning in the world may or may not fulfil expectations when it comes down to IC play and so organic development is a must when it comes to any type of relationships in-game but especially of the romantical variety.

Preferred FC's: Actual photos only please, no animation. It just throws me out of my muse.

What Should Your RP Partners Know About You?:

I've been writing role-play for 20+ years of my life and pride myself in having grown much throughout the years. Developing my skill as a writer has been a serious endeavor for me and I've always striven for improvement and have found that in order to best aide in this pursuit of self-betterment its been crucial for me to seek out writers who's skillset matches or, more helpfully, surpasses my own. I am a multi-paragraph storyteller who puts strong effort into character development and as much as I do enjoy a good 'love at first sight' story I'd much rather a love/hate dynamic between mains. I love to explore my character's past with time jumps and I don't shy away from playing side characters when needed. Those who reach out should be aware that the stories I tell through my characters come saturated in mature and dark themes.

It should also be noted that I will never write stories where the main focus is smut. Sex of course will always make an appearance in the worlds we create together - slow burn and sexual tension is a requirement for me - but it should be treated as a cherry on top of the sundae rather than the sundae itself. Kink-wise I am - #sorrynotsorry to the majority who read this - a rather vanilla ice cream type of girl. Rough sex? Yes, please! But I'm not into anal or excessive fluid/secretion descriptions. Depending on which character or scene is being played out, what psychological or emotional turmoil is currently happening within their inner worlds, kinks may change as my girls are as varied as they should be for realisms sake.

And now...my girls...

Spoiler: Leora "Harvey"

AVAILABLE

Genre: Modern Supernatural

”Either werewolves or brain cells...either way I’m killin’ somethin’ tonight.”​

Full name: Leora “Harvey”
Face Claim: Eliza Dushku
Species: Human
Occupation: Hunter
Cover Job: Bartender
DOB: December 31, 1986 (Capricorn/1st Decan)
Age: 39
Place of Birth: Coquille, OR
Ride: '76 Oldsmobile Cutlass supreme
Hair: Brunette
Eyes: Hazel
Height: 5'5
Build: slim, athletic, toned

Distinguishing Features: Functioning. The word every alcoholic cleaves to as if it granted some sort of protection from judgment, societies or their own. Stubborn. Reckless. Lost. Ruled by Saturn and with a gaze to prove it, it's both unwavering and scrutinizing. Darkly witted. The girl lives in a world made simultaneously for her own torture and amusement.

Personality: Harvey isn't usually personable, she likes to be left the fuck alone, at least that’s the vibe she gives off but really pattern recognition has taught her that people within her orbit have tend to have shorter expiration dates. It's just easier to live life solo and attachment free it's what she thinks she deserves anyways, it's also what she's convinced herself she needs in order to get the job done. Harvey's no good at beating around the bush so you can expect any standard interaction with her will be direct and tense. Disclaimer: Harvey is a walking, talking trigger warning and may offend sensitive characters.

Friends: A good friend for Harvey would look like someone who knows how to handle a mean personality and can see clear through it to the damaged soul within. Despite who she thinks she is, she's overdue to let her guard down when it comes to others. Harvey is also veeeeery willing to use someone for information or to get what she wants.

Romance: I'm looking for someone who can help bring Leora back because at this point its the only thing that's going to save her from herself. This wouldn't be an instant flowery romance and not for the idealistic romantics out there. Harvey isn't going to react well to feeling anything other than anger and hate.

Fears:
- looking in the mirror
- self-reflection
- living a long life

Biggest Secret: That she actually isn't a cold-hearted cunt. That Leora still lives somewhere buried deep down inside. It's the secret so big even Harvey isn't aware of it.

Mental Health: Shaky at best.

Skills:
- surviving
- half-listening
- expert marksman
- willing her vision from double to single

Vices:
- fire water
- self-sabotage

Likes:
- whiskey, but will take anything with a high proof
- speed (as in, velocity)
- being left the fuck alone
- Ahote (her gold colt .45)
- vintage cars
- hot Cheetos
- the smell of gasoline
- full black out mode/dreamless sleeps
- clear shots (bullseyes)
- classic beef jerky (none of that teriyaki shit)

Dislikes:
- being sober
- rando's in bars
- Leora (only her husband called her that)
- the sound of playgrounds
- anything overtly feminine (she believes that part of her is dead)
- people wasting her time
- actually feeling her emotions
- cheerfulness
- the sun (far too bright)
- anything that reminds her of the past

Positives:
- resourceful
- fearless
- witty (darkly)
- driven
- efficient
- realist
- protective (once you get to know her)
- direct

Negatives:
- antisocial
- impatient
- self-destructive
- impulsive
- angry
- vengeful
- cruel
- cynical
- reckless
- lost
- stubborn

Outlook On Supernaturals: The ability to see an entire race of individual living beings and clump them all together into one monolithic group is a truly dark skill forged out of a pain so deep that it has seemingly and successfully overrode all traces of her sympathetic faculties. Werewolves are not human and it makes no difference to her that some once were. What's more, as "unfortunate" as it is, the unlucky infected have to be put down the same as the rest of them. These beasts are dangerous abominations, period, full stop.

Supernatural Counter Measures: Laces her whiskey with vervain at least once a week. Jk. But she does ingest the stuff, likely more than would be advisable. Standard silver tipped arrows and bullets. She loves her guns, specifically her gold plated colt .45 (Ahote) given to her by her husband, Ahmik.

Significant Kill(s): The only kill that would truly feel significant is if she could find and put an end to the hybrid wearing her brother-in-laws face, the one that killed her happy ever after.

History:

TW: History includes suicide, overdose, foul language, miscarriage and overall darkness.

Some people weren't cut out for life...they simply couldn't hack it...

"Stop compression, I got a pulse..."

That will to keep going...something that should unquestionably just come naturally to all living things, for some, just wasn't hardwired. Like the universe for whatever dumb as fuck reason neglected to add that part of the coding...

"...I lost it again...resume compression..."

Batteries should always come included or else what’s the point?

Thanksgiving '99 was the day Sofia Harvey decided she was done. Leora found her twin on their bedroom floor frothing out the side of her mouth, eyes fixed on eternity, empty bottle of their father's oxycontin resting on the lap of one of her pink, rabbit stuffies. Harvey can't remember feeling much after that. There was just too much doing to feel much of anything. It wasn't until she couldn't do anything it hit her. Watching from a corner as the paramedics worked to save her sister's life, Harvey finally began to feel the abyss opening up inside her.

They could try all night long, it wouldn't matter. Harvey knew she was gone, and because she was privy to that fact via that spooky twin-bonding shit that always seemed to mystify people without one, the scene playing out in front of her eyes felt more like desecration than resuscitation. Even the old man knew...

“God took the wrong one.” Her fathers words would only be shocking to the EMT’s, to Harvey they were old hat.

Now, there was a shell of a man. Bitter. Angry. Abusive. An all around good-for-nothing piece of human shit. Of course, if you asked him he had every justification under the sun for being that way. His wife - and now second born - gone from the same commitment to get as far away from him as they could, even unto death. He'd been wheelchair bound for years after a massive stroke left him with only half a body shortly after Sofia and Leora's mom had decided to call it quits (a fun family tradition it was turning out). He relied heavily on the state and, a big sarcastic thanks be to Sofie, his only remaining Harvey, to take care of him. Harvey would henceforth until his death serve quite literally as his "other half". She'd feed him, help him when he needed to shower or shit, and become the sole receiver of his abuse, which thankfully was only verbal now thanks to that embolism resulting from about fifty years of hard livin'.

For a good stretch after Sofie's self-removal, Harvey would hold firm to what she saw as her obligation out of a twisted sense of familial duty, and for a while there the ship actually seemed to float well enough in a cursed kind of way (standards among the Harvey clan as naturally low as they were and all). But after the lung cancer diagnosis, the camels back (pun intended) would begin to disintegrate rapidly. It would get really, really bad there for awhile. The maliciousness by that point emanating equally as strong from both parties, would reach a level of poison that neither of them could turn back from.

Just like with Sofie, officially, her fathers passing would be labeled an "accidental opioid overdose". Again, Harvey knew the truth, whereas Sofie's overdose was actually by choice, their fathers had not been. Harvey just figured she and God owed the bastard. A painful death would have been justified of course and enthusiastically administered but Harvey had chosen mercy instead if only because it was easier to hide from the law.

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"You see the boy in him, Leora?"

Leora's hazel eyes would rise from the corn she'd been shucking to cast a gaze over her husbands form as he worked alongside his brother. They were busy at work, processing beef tendon into bow string while Leora and Mata Toma sat atop porch steps preparing for the family's evening meal. The late August breeze carried with it the scent of warm river and wildflowers, and not just a hint of iron. She'd caught him mid-laugh, the real kind that was always at the ready whenever Coal was present. Skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes as she peered softly in secret.

Harvey had met Ahmik through a friend while touring a community college in Coos Bay back when she was flirting with the idea of getting a degree of some kind. The higher learning notion didn't stick. Ahmik did. They'd both fall hard and fast and with their love Harvey would finally be able to shed her fortified exterior, the culmination of a tragic upbringing and subsequent life lived thus far, less than ideally. She'd stopped going by Leora after her sister died but Ahmik loved the name, said it "fit her soul", which at the time she found strange. Soul. To think someone actually believed she still had one...it promised to make her believe it too.

Her husband was a wild heart, untamed yet earth-bound, and unshakable in his integrity. Ex-marine. An entrepreneur. A tracker and hunter of big game. He taught her how to use the bow and arrow and how to shoot firearms. Overall, how to protect herself and live off the land if she needed to. He was proud of his wife, his way of life and of his people, an indigenous tribe living along coastal land. She fell in love with both him and his family, most notably Mata Toma...

"All men carry the boy they once were just behind the eyes. You see it don't you?"

The old woman wasn't wrong. She was never wrong. Just underneath the surface of life's weather-worn armor and what his time in the service had done to him, Leora could see the boy underneath the man very well. Underpinning the natural features of a soul with near primal-level self-assuredness (which had bore within Leora for the first time in her life a sense of security) was the honest essence of a playful and curious spirit. It was the same spirit that had pulled hers from an ash-strewn wreckage of a childhood and adolescence that no one survives unscathed. No matter how much they tried to pretend. The same spirit, that upon first meeting, had enveloped her in a spell of amnesia, just potent enough to build something entirely new...a beautiful dream in replacement of a nightmare...and to naively imagine its permanence or that any part of her deserved it.

"Maybe it’s just me speaking as a mother..." The matriarchs smile would be felt so keenly through her words that Leora had no need to actually turn her head to see it. She'd become momentarily distracted anyways as Ahmik suddenly noticed her studying him from across the lawn and managed as he always did to sweep her up entirely into his gaze.

When they'd first discovered she was pregnant, Leora had felt this soul-shift into a feeling of rapidly approaching completeness that she'd never imagined could exist, and since then she had been swallowed up in an untouchable cocoon of happiness. A happiness sadly of the kind the fates only ever dangled betwixt slippery fingers before the gullible eyes of the foolish...

"Promise me you'll protect it, Tanis.”

Among the Coquille, there was no concept of ‘in-law’, only ever Mata (Mother) and Tanis (Daughter). The endearment held great weight with Leora who could only ever remember her own mother in whisps of unreliable memories. Their tribes medicine woman, a witch by blood, and an irreplaceable elder to her people. It was Mata that had removed the scales from Leora's eyes and lifted the veil on the supernatural reality of their world. A revelation that broke her brain for awhile but she had since come to terms with...with the help of family, that is. Her family. One that would soon be added to...

Ahote...the boy growing inside of her as they spoke, no bigger than a plum, would bask in the same love and affection Ahmik's kith and kin had showered her with when she had first set foot on the reservation. So, of course Leora would promise Mata a thousand times over that she would protect what they both loved more than anything in this world. It was just a gut-wrenching shame that she would be unable to keep that promise...

-------------------------------​

“I’m telling you my wife’s a light weight. She can hardly handle rosé!”

In the memory, a man’s hand is wearing a silver ring adorned with black onyx, holding out a bottle of Jack to Leora, causing a modern-day Harvey to grip ever more tightly to her rim-filled rocks glass as she takes another deep swig of amber, the sight of Ahmik through fire in her minds eye playing all too vividly behind her optic nerve.

Despite the warning, Coal had offered the pint anyways. It had been a celebration after all. Ahmik had just been granted the loan he'd been needing to expand his business. 'The Blue Bison' wasn't going to be just a small-town secret hotspot anymore with its expansion into Coos Bay, and with Coal stepping up to manage the new establishment, the rez's local dive bar had official become a legit family business...one that could have eventually been passed down.

“Naaah..." Coal dismissed all too easily, insisting on inviting his new sister to join them, firelight refracting off the black stone on his pinky freezing the frame forever in time...

"..she just needs a little practice is all.”

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You can't change the past, but you can forever be tortured by it...

Mata Toma. Ahmik. Ahote. Leora. None had survived the monster wearing Coal's face.

Harvey couldn't remember much of the carnage but of what she could, it was enough. She'd woken up in an ICU in bad shape but alive. Her body however, void of the one life that could have actually made the difference. A miscarriage resulting from the injuries she'd suffered would be a devastation of such magnitude that it would break something vital in Harvey and forever change her future.

Perhaps it was just God fixing a mistake he'd made? She'd attempt to reason it out a billion times just trying to comprehend everything that had happened. Maybe that whole period of happy-ever-after she'd enjoyed with a family-never-meant-to-be had just been a funny little sidetrack? A little what-if spin-off just for the universe's entertainment? A little heavenly intermission before returning her back to her regularly scheduled hell programming? Fuck, before that moment she had doubted his existence, but now Harvey knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was a God and that he was pure fucking evil.

Yup, that was the only thing she could eventually settle on and reckon possible to make the sum of her life make any sense whatsoever, and once she saw it she could only take one giant metaphorical step back and marvel at the diabolicalness of it all. Maybe it was at this angle she actually could see the humor in it? Now that she was hollowed out, ostensibly and quite literally, and had suffered this tectonic shift in perspective, she was undoubtedly at the perfect vantage point to understand exactly what her purpose was in the scheme of all things. Really, it was a no-brainer. She felt silly it had taken her this long to recognize it. Everything that had come before had led her right exactly here...to her sole purpose...to kill them all. Every. Last. One.

Yeah, it was conclusive, at least in Harvey's eyes. She'd figured it all out. She'd hacked the fuckin' system. Turns out Evil-God might very well have made a mistake where Harvey's brief glimpse into a heaven she had no business in glimpsing was concerned, but the bigger mistake made, come to discover...was including batteries in her packaging.

-------------------------------​

Fast forward to now...

The woman isn't known for her stellar decision-making. She's good on the fly though, especially in regards to staying alive. Baseline priorities: surviving and staying plastered. She's a simple girl. Yet, more and more that first priority seems to be slipping from her, causing her to become reckless as the years roll by. What did survival get her anyway? She got what? To see another day? What kind of stupid cracker-jack prize was that? But a win's a win, right? And you’d think a girl like Harvey would be eager to collect all the wins she could get, no matter how lame. But anyone who’d be thinkin' that obviously didn't know what it was like to live in hell.

She found The Order nearly a decade ago, or more like it, they found her after discovering a string of her kills which all too easily led straight to the grungy, cheap motel she’d holed herself up in. After a few blows and some conversation, a sort of reluctant but mutual agreement was reached. Harvey would join 'The Order' and swear allegiance to its mission since it was made clear to her that she didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. It was either join or be killed and since Harvey had yet to accomplish her vendetta against the werewolf who had started her entire crusade, she begrudgingly acquiesced. She submitted to The Order and its intensive training program as well as to being microchipped, she even took the dipherium, the cocktail The Order injected their Hunters with to enhance their natural human abilities. Where it didn’t quite level the playing field it at least made the fighting more fair and as much as Harvey hated shooting up every month and as much as she loathed the feeling of being traceable 24/7 by big brother, in the end she told herself that it would be well worth the nuisance since playing good little soldier gave her access to resources she could use to find and kill her ultimate target, namely her ex-brother-in-law.

Story: The Order, an organization of enhanced human hunters who’s proclaimed goal is to maintain a healthy equilibrium between preternatural entities and the human populace. While not officially admitted however, it is widely understood that The Order finds no moral hesitancy when it comes to alliances of convenience and scientific experimentation if said collusion and research can be justified in furthering its own unspoken goal of supernatural exploitation and eventual subjugation. The drug they give to each hunter for example, dipherium, is a direct result of said experimentation. Combining a slew of occulticly infused ingredients, it’s main components however include modified DNA derived from uncanny donors. These ingredients when mixed properly induced enhanced strength, speed, endurance, and healing. Over time the drug loses its potency and boosters are required.

Nearly a decade after joining The Order Harvey has yet to achieve her goal and has long since resigned herself to the fact that the werewolf Coal is likely dead and consequently so is any chance she will have to ever feel the revenge she’s craved for years. She’d been told hunters rarely lived past thirty and now she’s pissed because she was lied to about that. Career life expectancy aside, even the booze she figured would take her out sooner rather than later (her plan 'B) was turning out to also be a bust because of the dipherium she'd been injecting for years. She‘ll turn 40 this year if she lets herself but as the nights march on number 39 seems more and more like a nice, little odd number to hang her hat up on. It’s "mostly" just a joke since Harvey had never been the easy-way-out kind of gal and yet reality is that she’s become very reckless these last couple months, almost as if she’s been courting her demise on a subconscious level. For instance, it seems she’s actually managed to forget her last couple shots of dipherium. It’s weirdly just slipped her mind altogether somehow and the poor things starting to feel the effects.

It’s October now and she’s holed up in Seattle in some grimy no-name motel ordering disgusting Chinese take-out she barely touches while playing drinking games with no one but herself. One swig for every negative thought she has. She’s good at the game. She’s built a pyramid made of empty whiskey bottles she’s erected on the rickety wooden table beside the TV she’s set on a channel that only gets snow. She keeps the room dark because she likes the television statics light.

Story Notes: So, obviously all of Harvey’s issues stem from loss. She’s lost her husband and her baby at the hands of a werewolf and through those losses she’s lost herself and what very little she didn’t lose of herself on the night they were killed she’s been slowly drowning with whiskey. This girl does not want to be here, yet she’s very against the direct route of just taking her own life so she’s stopped taking her monthly dose of dipherium instead. When our story begins she will just be starting to feel the effects of coming off the drug which will be a severe power nerf, rendering her merely mundane-human level strong. She’ll be slower and weaker of course as well as immunocompromised compared to the healing capabilities the drug had given her before, she’ll probably also start feeling the consequences of her years of drinking sooner rather than later. It should be noted however, that all she needs to do in order to remedy herself is to just start shooting up again. Easy-peasy! But unless she has a real reason to shoot up (one way more convincing than dying) the girl just won’t do it. That’s where YC comes in…

Potential Starter Plots (other ideas welcome):

The Wolf:
How beautifully twisted and lovely would it be if the very creature Harvey has dedicated her life killing ends up saving it. In this plot YC would play a werewolf who crosses paths with Harvey and has the misfortune of looking like Harvey's dead husband. Like, we're talking dead ringer! Dopplegang-land! The perfect nightmare scenario for Harvey but it's what inspires her to start taking the dipherium again in order to kill him... from here a dark love story ensues. Would love collaboration to expand this plot so it isn't one note.

The Partner:
This story would see The Order assign Harvey a partner, likely because of the tabs it keeps on her they know that her health is downgrading and that she is no longer taking her dipherium. YC would reluctantly (because he knows of her reputation) accept this assignment which would be first and foremost entail making her take the drug to keep her from dying off and subsequentially after that to make sure she keeps using it. Would love collaboration to expand this plot so it isn't one note.

Spoiler: Elise du'Clermont

AVAILABLE

Genre: Modern or Historical Supernatural/Vampire Masquerade

”I am not a woman that needs any meaningless verbal utterances suggesting even in the slightest way that I might be loved. Feared? Lusted for? Worshipped? These are judged sufficient.”​

Species: Vampire (Lamia if played VM style)
Job: angel investor/night club owner
DOB: November 14, 1738 (Scorpio/3rd decan)
Place of Birth: Beaune, France (Burgundy)
Pet(s): Calliope Jones
Hair: raven
Eyes: blue-green (depending on the light and her mood)
Height: 5'10
Build: athletic, curved, and heavily conditioned

Distinguishing Features: Her height, statuesque. Her body, to die. And that face, sculpted by gods.

Personality: When alone she is prone to melancholy and brooding, its when memories of the past come to haunt her. She can be extremely serious when it comes to business and her vices and her temper flares are a thing to behold. When in her element however - being the socialite Versailles trained her to be - she is vivacious as well as voracious in her hedonistic need to impress and entertain as pomp and pageantry is excessively important to her.

Friends: Genuine friends are hard to come by but those of a superficial variety are a dime a dozen. She keeps her circle impossibly small and those she keeps closest receive adequate remuneration. As near to a friend as she can imagine are contracted employees and those she has done business with for years.

Romance: Elise has sworn off men for the better part of the last century lest she fall in love and want to kill herself. When desires arise, her butterflies (what she calls her contracted blood dolls) suffice in a pinch. I think this needs to change and whether she wants it or not she is due for a little love in her life. Elise is prone to melting with the right gentle touch (she is a romantic at heart) but I cannot promise what her reaction could be to the poison she has found love to be.

Fears: Boredom and an accidental fashion faux pas. Mostly though, falling in love for the third time.

Biggest Secret: Not so much that she killed her sire but how she killed her sire and that he may still be alive more or less. Elise also has a hidden maternal instinct and desires to be a mother.

Mental Health: It's in hand, albeit a shaky one. A small quirk about Elise is that she more or less subconsciously and from time to time seeks brushes with her own death and not because she wants to really die but because she wants to really live.

Turning Chosen or Forced?: Chosen, unfortunately so.

How Were They Turned?: She fell in love with the wrong man.

Age Turned: 28

Sire Bond: Fractured and distant, like a dream you can't really recall but still gnaws at you at times when you aren't expecting it. Time has dimmed it considerably however.

Skills: Charming and a fabulous host. Traits found in the ghost of the old Elise brought up under the scrutiny of courtly nobility readily resurfaces at a whims notice. Visits to Versailles has taught her many things including flirtation and wit to win over favor and advantage, social gifts she will use along with other more direct and less preferable measures if needed to further her pursuits.

Vices: Fashion (if death is to come let the woman be drenched in Versace) and all fine things pleasing to the well-trained eye.

Likes:
- fashion
- power
- blood wine
- art
- opera
- business and adding to her fortune
- wit
- intrigue

Dislikes:
- vulgarity
- men
- being dictated to (by men especially)
- lack of fashion sense
- boredom
- love

Strengths:
- captivating
- individualistic
- passionate
- articulate
- perfectionist
- fashionable (always)
- glamorous
- wealthy

Weaknesses:
- vain
- impatient
- brat
- tempestuous
- unpredictable
- vicious
- controlling
- cruel

Personality: Whereas the once young and human Elise du Clermont was prone to mixed feelings that often changed her mind, one day happy and sure, the next anxious and uncertain, now when Elise decides upon something she is immovably resolute, a characteristic her sire would attest to if he were still alive to do it. In love with the idea of being in love she used to be susceptible to falling like a brick tied to a boulder and flung out into the deepest parts of her hearts ocean and it was men, debonair, enchanting, beautiful men who way back when had the dangerous potential of flinging her there. Fortunately and in no small part thanks to her late sire Elise has grown up and replaced her ideas of “amour eternal” with more imaginative ideas of how exactly to make the men who do unluckily cross her path pay for the sins of that one who’d disillusioned her.

History: Elise du Clermont was born to a prostitute and the fabled Duke of Burgundy, Francis Louis du Clermont in the late autumn of 1738. With nothing but doting adoration, her father would beguile the young Elise with tales of her mother, who she was told was an actual angel that had taken one look upon her newborn babe and flew straight off to heaven for fear of having to compete for her fathers affections. Ah yes, the Duke loved his daughter more than anything and would lie if need be to protect the child from life's sad truths. He'd especially lie to protect himself and the messiness that would come if the Duchess ever found out about his misdeeds. A plan formulated out of necessity, Elise would grow up locked away in the Duke's hunting lodge which resided some leagues from his many Duchy. Never the thought his growing girl would live in want of anything especially education, it was made to be that the apple of her fathers eye would constantly be surrounded by adepts in their various fields of knowledge; penmanship, oratorical studies, philosophy, history, religion, art, even commerce and law.

Come the time as it often does however, when the lady du'Clermont (a title unable to be given naturally was in any case bought for her) had come into her own. A fact she signaled vigorously by becoming headstrong and far too curious about the outside world for her fathers liking. Their constant bickering would culminate finally one eve when she told him flatly that she wanted to move away from the lodge, to experience life on her own merit, promising that she would never reveal her true identity lest she sully her fathers pristine reputation. Tearfully and after much convincing the Duke did reluctantly agree, with the condition he would afford her a monthly stipend to keep her afloat out in the real world. Waving then to her father as her carriage began its long journey off to Paris, the naive debutante could not conceive in the slightest that in less than a year she would be destined to suffer the first great catastrophe of her life - she would fall in love.

Her husband took the form of a tall, dashing young courtier who spoke their mother tongue <i>and</i> Italian perfectly and in the latter had promised her an exciting life full of pleasure in their estate gifted to him by the king himself. And what a life for a while it was! A staunch libertine with hedonistic tendencies, her husband was a roller coaster of sensual delights. With him she experienced glittering society within and without the walls of Versailles with all its intrigues and scandals and midnight parties. Alas, sadly, she was in love with a mortal and like all mortals it was impossible to anticipate expiration or its cause whether it would come through old age or calamity. In her husbands case it would be the latter.

Pierced through the heart by some strange woman’s husband who had found out that he’d been fucking his wife. Elise’s broken heart reduced her to wishing she were dead, swearing to herself that she would never fall in love again for the pain was just too great to hold within one body. Their marriage had lasted a total of three blissful years. Making things excruciatingly worse, shortly after her husbands death her father also perished, succumbing to an attack of the heart adding exponentially to her agony. The fact that both men had left her with a substantial sum of money assuring her that if she were clever with her purse she’d never have to work again simply could not comfort her shattered soul.

Weary of France frothing with its unwanted happy memories, Elise would move to London feeling drawn to the rain that she’d always found rejuvenating. There, she would keep friends and lovers at an arms length and stay mainly to herself as she grieved. She became a recluse for a span of time learning various languages while she drank absinthe, and smoked hashish imported from India. She still took on lovers every so often but it was few and far between as she waited for the fog of depression to lift. It would be in 1767 at the age of 28 that she would meet a brooding, handsome stranger that would change her life forever.

His name was Armand and he was a vampire in love with a beauty he could not resist capturing for eternity. Seductive and cunning, Armand would not compel Elise the way he knew he could, instead he made her fall in love with him organically and once done the result was absolute. By Armand Elise was utterly haunted. In hindsight, Armand owned her body and heart in ways her late husband could only ever stumble at, relying heavily on Elise's innocence to only make her believe that she was being loved by a gifted lover. Armand was nothing if not a true virtuoso in the art so when the truth was revealed and the question was posed, Elise said yes to being turned by him, she had said yes to spending forever being spoiled and loved by him. What she had not said yes to was being just one of many.

The disloyalty of her 'soul mate' birthed inside Elise a rage she'd never known and it would be at her own hand that her sire would meet his end. Mid-bellow he'd be sealed within an iron sarcophagus and plunged under the icy waves of the Atlantic. A balanced play, she believed she had acted with restraint given the circumstances. The pain he had dealt her, the betrayal, would never go away...and now, neither would his. For the second time in her life Elise swore to herself that she would never love again and so far she has kept that promise. She’d rather live eternity alone than to ever feel those pangs of tormenting betrayal.

The Lady du'Clermont, a wealthy woman by then, having invested her money in successful business ventures, used that wealth to leave London for America, and it was during these days that Elise became a monster, venturing out only to feed or abduct a victim to torture slowly as she tried to process her pain and anger at existence in general as well as bide her time as the bond she felt with her still living sire slowly faded to a mild hum, not unlike a small gnat buzzing. Today she has calmed down considerably in her cruelty but she is no less restless and prone to boredom, as well as bouts of severe melancholy and, every now and again given just the right circumstances, volcanic eruption. She's even begun desiring motherhood again. She has come to hold many titles: entrepreneur, angel investor, fashion consultant, art curator and patron thereof and last but not least, mistress of ceremonies. If one were in want to find her they may find luck only in receiving an invitation to one of her many soirees or extravagant parties she likes to host, either that or at an equally delectable event or upscale establishment or by default at her precious Club NUMB.

Spoiler: Club NUMB

Elise's baby, NUMB has gained a reputation spread by word of mouth for being a contemporary Studio 54 and just like that famous disco tech, at NUMB not everyone can cross that red velvet rope that divides earth and heaven, but the lucky ones who do are promised a scandalously good night. It does not discriminate by species, its only prerequisite? Be beautiful. Something worth looking at. Simple. Once inside (if you are so lucky), depending on the night you might see aerial chain or burlesque performers, human statues, masked DJ’s, caged dancers, fire eaters, or any number of novelty acts.

List of Services:

• Three fully staffed bars (one for each level).
• Can be rented out for private parties and events.
• Underneath the main floor is an even more exclusive area of NUMB known as Bedlam which caters to membered guests of a particular taste.

Spoiler: Calliope Jones

Cali, or Calliope as Elise, who was fond of using peoples proper names, much preferred, was a relatively new addition to the vampire’s life. She was hers, contractually speaking, for the next five years or until such time Elise grew bored of her enough to sever ties prematurely or unless unfortunate circumstances required Elise to let her go sooner than anticipated for reasons besides those of a capricious nature. In other words, this arrangement was not ever meant to be a forever thing, no matter what the ebony-skinned beauty came to believe to be true, or thought she was being led to believe to be true, and Elise would never be made to feel guilty over any feelings the young woman may or may not have developed whilst serving Elise nor for any wishful thinking that may evolve over their time spent together, just as she had never felt a drop of it before with the others. Her butterflies. And there had been many.

Potential Starter Plots (other ideas welcome):

The Sire: It might be interesting if her sire who has been resting in torpor for more than a century underneath the icy waters of the Atlantic, managed to escape his iron sarcophagus. His first lucid thoughts on revenge would drive him to seek her out. Another barely begun story I would find exciting to explore is that she was not her sires only fledgling. There was another that perhaps seeks her out for revenge as well OR for other reasons. Would love collaboration to expand this plot so it isn't one note.

The Fledgling: I had thoughts that perhaps Elise had, in her more tumultuous, peak of man-hating days where she was most violent and cruel that she could have turned some poor man and left him to his own devices. The turning would have been unchosen and devastating. He would come seeking his revenge OR desire to see her again for other reasons. Would love collaboration to expand this plot so it isn't one note.

Spoiler: Sue-Ellen “Swell” Thatcher

AVAILABLE

Genre: Modern supernatural

"I swear I really do use my head for somethin' other than just a knot to keep my backbone from unravelin', I just got alot on my mind is all."​

Full Name: Sue-Ellen Thatcher
Face Claim: Megan Fox
Species: half-fae
Occupation: currently looking for employment
Age: 36
DOB: April 26, 1990 (Taurus/1st decan)
Place of birth: Birmingham, Alabama
Pets: an aging gray cat named Maggie
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Brunette
Height: 5'4
Build: toned but curvy

Distinctive Features: Primarily, upon first words her southern accent will slap you in your face and leave you with your own southern drawl via osmosis. She also has a sugary sweet disposition, followed by an appendectomy scar and a couple of snake bite marks she got as a kid back in ‘Bama, one on her left ankle and another on her right forearm, that she'll glad show off if prompted.

Personality: Swell is too nice, she's been told. She's someone easy to take advantage of. She's not stupid at all just likes to think the best of people, she actually is very wise when you get to know her. She just doesn't know how to sell herself well. The girl is incredibly insecure, mostly about her smarts and has horrible taste in men, ergo she stays sober to mitigate any damages that could result from that fact.

Friends: She's new to town and will kindly accept any friends she can get...even the wrong kind.

Romance: One shot of pick-your-poison and her vixen likes to come out to play, that's why she's in AA and trying to walk the straight and narrow path. She would really like to start dating though. Something to keep the lonely at bay and her thoughts on hopeful.

Fears: That there's somethin' rotten to the core about her. It's all wrapped up in that guilt she's felt ever since her teenage years when she ran amok and gave her parents hell, now come to find out her parents aren't even her real parents make it all the more distressin' because who knows who's no-good evil blood could be flowin' through her veins.

Biggest Secret: Secrets are bad for the soul and its damn hard for the girl to keep one. The biggest secret is the one bein' kept from her, that she's a gifted half-blood.

Mental Health: Just a little sad and confused at the moment. Other than that, a point could be made that her positivity can lean at times towards the toxic side of the spectrum.

Skills: Besides her baking skills Swell is a master at lovin' people, even the ones that aren't supposed to be loved. She'd still do the Christianly thing and give them the shirt off her back if they needed it. She has an uncanny endearing quality to her that has been known to soften even the hardest hearts. In addition to that and like, a big feature of it, the girl knows one or two southern idioms to crack the hardest of nuts into smilin'.

Vices: The girl used to have a drinkin' problem and with that came the issue of promiscuity. Today however she frequents AA meetings as much as she can to keep the devil away because she knows that one tiny slip can lead to her vixen awakenin' and makin' a mess of a life she's dedicated to bein' virtuous. If not until marriage then at least until the second date. Jk...mostly.

Bloodline: Fae

Birth Court: Spring

Bloodline Side Effects: Can live twice as long as humans, or even longer if they live in the fae realms. With fae DNA laced within them, her blood is just as potent as a full-blooded fae, making her an easy target for other supernatural species.

Abilities: She notices she heals pretty fast and that she's real good at feeling other peoples emotions (has no idea these abilities can be expanded on). Also, fae realms don't affect her or her mind like they do other humans (obviously not something she knows).

Likes:
- critters of all shapes and sizes
- rainstorms
- blue jeans
- country music
- people watching
- baking/cooking
- smart people
- being barefoot
- accents
- thrill seeking
- skinny dipping
- eating
- fishing
- making other people laugh

Dislikes:
- hoity toity people
- mean people
- guns
- being lonely
- the devil
- her middle name (Gretchen)
- being made to feel dumb
- having too many things she doesn't like

Strengths:
- generous
- affectionate
- optimistic
- adaptable (extremely)
- grateful
- gregarious
- endearing
- forgiving (to a fault)
- humble
- clever

Weaknesses:
- insecure (mostly about her intelligence)
- gullible
- ingratiating
- guilt-prone
- too nice
- naive
- distractable
- alcoholic (recovering)
- promiscuous (recovering)

History

TW: Includes abuse, violence, murder, and general darkness.

While her mama always liked to tell everybody who’d listen that her baby girl was sweeter than pecan pie and as innocent as a “naked-chubby-cherub”, Swell had always found herself in stark but silent disagreement with her. She never wanted to disappoint her mama but truth was the girl had a devilish side to her that started kickin’ up 'round the teenage years with drugs and sex and all that came along with it. Her mama, despite bein' wrong about the innocent part was right on the money with the pie part because sweet seemed to be a trait impressed upon the girls very soul and it’s been a part of her personality that’s she’s carried with her practically since birth.

Though definitely not innocent she is honest and extremely easy going. Her brother once noticed rather rudely that “you could use her back as a bridge and she’d barely protest.” So yeah, she’s got flaws. Along with having the tendency of being a doormat in relationships she can be gullible, not in a stupid way but more in a ‘sarcasm is a hard communication trait to detect for her and she thinks everybody’s her friend’ kinda way.

She’d do anything for a friend or to make one and if she hurts your feelings she’s quick to apologize on account of she’s quite susceptible to feeling guilt which she carries around like a handbag permanently stitched to her arm. She hates when people are mad at her or don’t like her or when people don’t get along in general.

Born in Birmingham, Alabama, the “Magic City” like Swell herself, has had its moments of controversy over the years. Home life was lovely and made up of a big brother, a mama and a daddy, big family suppers, lots of laughter and lots of hugs. The trailer park she grew up in wasn’t all that bad, there was actually a nice feelin' of community and a bit of a ‘we’re all in this together’ kind of silent bond even with the tweakers, though never with the wife beaters or child abusers that would occasionally move in but would never stay long.

Outside the trailer park, in town and particularly in school is where the world was different on account of people could be real mean to “trailer trash”. Consequently, friends and people liking her became very important. In high school, she finally did manage to find a bosom buddy in a girl named Kristen.

Now, Kristen had this brother everyone called Kubby and Kubby was a senior who took a quick shine to Swell almost immediately. He made her feel pretty. He used to compliment her all the time and pick flowers for her to catch her attention and make her feel special. But once he had her to the point of kissin’ and huggin’ and feelin’ comfortable is when he started planting seeds in her mind that he watered every chance he could get until one day like magic he made her believe it was her idea to sell her body for some money they could use to leave Birmin’ham and start a new life together far away.

Well, Kubby agreed whole heartedly to her plan and surprisingly already had in mind who her first customer could be, an old man who went by the name Big Easy who lived in an actual house near the river. Kubby was more than happy to set the arrangement up as soon as Swell gave him her hesitant, compliant nod. So come to pass, money exchanged hands and the thing was set up but on the day the deed was supposed to be done Swell had a vicious panic attack and refused to go through with the whole deal which sent Kubby into a rage.

It wasn't long 'til Swell's daddy saw the scrapes and bruises coverin' his daughters limbs and found out who had hurt her so bad, that’s when he found Kubby and likewise hurt him too, but much worse. Kubby never told anyone who beat him so bad it sent him to the ER and Swell kept that secret too along with the Big Easy one she was already keepin', since there was no way she was gonna hand over that part of the story to her daddy. If she had done that, things would have gone much worse for Kubby and the entire Thatcher clan. No, Swell knew she had to put it all behind her and so she stopped seein' Kristin too. She'd lose a friend but she reckoned it was better than the alternative. So, where eventually things just went back to normal for Swell, for Kubby it was just time spent fixatin' and festerin' on what had happened to him...then one day, he snapped.

It was Swell’s sixteenth birthday, the whole family and all the neighbors were outside havin' a big barbecue when Kubby come up 'round the side of the trailer with his double barrel and shot Swell’s daddy in the face. That day and it’s aftermath...is not something she likes to think about.

Swell’s recent move to Oregon had been a long time in the plannin'. She knew she’d always wanted to leave home eventually but she had to stick 'round for her mama’s sake, she couldn’t very well leave her alone after all that had happened especially since it was all Swell’s fault. It wasn’t until her death by lung cancer that Swell finally had freedom to leave and start her life over again. She'd barely put her mama in the oven when her brother let it slip that Swell had been adopted. It was a revelation that broke her brain and she wouldn't believe it for the longest time until she found the evidence in paperwork form inside an old dusty filing cabinet stuffed way in the back of her parents closet. Her parents. They would always be her mama and daddy no matter what the stupid law or her brother tried to convince her of. On this, Swell was adamant. A minor emotional detour notwithstanding, Swell used the money she'd saved up from waitressin' and set her mind on adventure. She figured all she needed was a little positivity and some luck to get settled, but things haven’t really been all that rosy for our southern belle thus far. Currently, Swell is workin' the front desk and livin' at the Wounded Lamb Motel in Blackwater with a huge case of homesickness just tryin' to stay sober.

Potential Starter Plots (other ideas welcome):

Awakening: Half-fae on her father's side, it's high time Swell finds out who she really is. She's recently moved to a supernatural hotspot and because of her blood she's starting to attract strange events in her life that she can't explain away and its starting to really freak her out...enter YC. Would love collaboration to expand this plot so it isn't one note.