minho's gaze dropped briefly to the handkerchief. then to the faint traces of crimson stubbornly clinging to maddox's knuckles. then, finally, to the alley itself. his expression remained entirely unchanged. "ah." as though maddox had informed him of an inconvenient bit of weather rather than the presence of an unconscious body ten feet away.
he glanced toward the dark shape resting further inside the alley. the lump did not move. minho considered it for a moment. "you know, most people celebrate anniversaries with cake." his eyes drifted once more to the bloodstained handkerchief disappearing back into the other's pocket. "you always have had a talent for making things memorable." they'd known each other long enough that surprise had become difficult. years ago, minho might have demanded an explanation. these days, discovering maddox standing beside a body barely registered as noteworthy. if anything, the more surprising outcome would've been finding him without a problem attached.
"tell me this isn't going to become my problem in the next hour." his eyes narrowed slightly. "because i've only just gotten myself a good drink, and i'd hate to waste my energy explaining to security why one of the city's most irritating men has broken the whole 'spill no blood' rule."
"at what point was i ever considered something so simple as.. most people?" maddox's eyes rolled slightly, a subtle gesture but no less telling in the moment. already prepared to deal with the potential displeasure and upset that may yet accompany one of his oldest friends in coyote's rest as he took issue with this situation at hand. he pulled out a cigarette then, lighter following soon after as he lit it up with the brief flicker of flame and a slow inhale.
"i'd say the spill no blood rule is only applicable inside on nights such as these." smoke drifted from between his lips as he continued, "and no, it will not become your problem unless you decide you would like to make it your problem." which they both knew neither of them had any plan of. "he's alive and well, relatively speaking. unless, of course, you find yourself feeling inclined to kick him whilst he's down and contribute to his nightly celebration," the comment delivered to minho with complete seriousness as he registered to the unmoving body behind once again. "or would you rather i left him to continue speaking poorly of everyone and create even more problems come morning?"
He needed fresh air. Bentley swore as he aged he began to despise crowds. People bumping into him, almost spilling their drinks on him made him want to throat punch some of these folks. And that was being generous. But of course that would be frowned upon. So, here he was enjoying the peace. Though like anything else it wouldn't last he imagined. These kinds of events only meant chaos. And it surely was going to happen sooner or later. Bentley wasn't sure what he walked in on now but it wasn't his business. Hues didn't even bare to look at the description of a lump. People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf. "Whatever you have going on here .. it doesn't concern me. This just stops my headache a bit from all the idiots inside." And that was putting it lightly. But he was genuine in his words - the other's own act of violent surely wasn't a priority. "Seems to be the trend in there. Most people's alcohol tolerance is really quite pathetic."
"most people would rather concern themselves with proving they can handle something stronger than cheap liquor," he expression remaining unreadable as he studied the other man, "they rarely stop themselves to consider the fact that when faced with a finer selection, they simply do not have the blood for it." after all, posturing and being prideful about near enough anything around here to convince everyone else of capability, was truly how it went. despite reaity often catching up.
maddox made no effort now to glance back and check if the lump had remained or had began the pitifully slow process of dragging itself elsewhere. that was of little concern to him, and would only enter that realm it became relevant. if the man developed the unfortunate idea of a retaliation. "the night is growing bolder," his gaze drifted to the casino doors, the noise and the crowd, "which means your headache will likely find its way back to you before long." he hummed quiet, "violence has a habit of attracting attention, and once the others catch wind of it then the eagerness to contribute on their own arrives."
The Lucky Coyote was loud enough to disguise most conversations, which was precisely why Taz liked it. People assumed noise offered privacy. In reality, it just made them careless. He'd spent the better part of the evening drifting through the casino floor, collecting snippets of information without looking like he was collecting anything at all—a conversation near the blackjack tables, an argument quietly unfolding beside the bar, a dealer who was becoming a little too friendly with one particular customer. Nothing immediately useful. Yet.
With a sigh, Taz abandoned his circuit and headed toward the bar, weaving through clusters of gamblers and gang members who were pretending tonight wasn't one giant social experiment waiting to implode. It was only after ordering another bourbon that he noticed who had claimed the stretch of counter beside him—Maddox Voss. His eyebrows rose slightly. Well. That was certainly one way to improve an evening. Most people gave Maddox Voss space without being asked. It wasn't difficult to understand why. The man carried himself with the kind of presence that made others instinctively check whether they were standing in his way.
Taz, unfortunately, had never possessed a healthy sense of self-preservation. Cradling his glass, he slid onto the neighboring stool and glanced sideways. "You know," he began conversationally, as though they were discussing the weather and not sharing a bar with one of the most influential men in Coyote's Rest, "I've been in town for roughly three whole months now give or take." A beat. "Long enough for anyone to learn that when a room suddenly goes quiet for half a second, it's typically because somebody important just walked in." His mouth curved into an easy grin. "Either that or someone's started a fight." Taking a sip of his bourbon, he gestured vaguely toward the crowd. "The night's still young though, so I'm keeping both possibilities open. What about you?" As the music swelled somewhere behind them, laughter followed from a nearby craps table. That's when, Taz leans back against the bar and continued... "Be honest," His gaze drifted over the casino floor. "On a scale of one to complete disaster, how confident are we that everyone makes it to sunrise without violating the carpet policy?"
maddox had no intention of making more of the night than it needed to be. for the most part that meant remaining near the bar, or lingering at the edges of the room where he could still keep an eye on things. but failing that, there were always the back rooms where conversations continued despite the supposed neutrality promised and requested of the evening. work might stop for some, but never for those sitting at the top when there was still an order to maintain, people to watch, and subordinates to ensure did not create problems before the night was through. not that nameless could be considered the worst offenders in that regard. he would have given that title to the newly inspired jackals of the spider lilies, if he had to. they did, after all, possess a certain flair for theatrics.
fortunately for maddox himself, most people were intelligent enough to leave him alone. to leave him to whatever passed for peace these days as he nursed the same glass he had been holding since his arrival. and eyes closed, he allowed himself a rare moment of ease amidst the noise. but it did not last.
the shift in the air was enough to draw his attention before the now far toooccupied seat beside him did. when his eyes opened, they settled upon the newcomer, and maddox could not claim to know the man next to him right now. he knew enough, however, to recognise him as new. faces became familiar quickly in a city like this, and those who had not been around for all that long tended to stand out in the crowds. plus, the man's own words only confirmed it for him. the fact he had chosen to strike up conversation with maddox of all people suggested as much too.
"is this what you would consider small talk?" the question came out flatly rather than inviting. maddox excelled at many things though, and disguising irritation happened to be one of them at the best of times, hard to say if now was included in that fact. "a fight will break out in approximately fifty six minutes when the bar announces it has run out of whatever premium liquor people have convinced themselves is worth the price," he swirled the whiskey in his glass as he spoke. "a nose will be broken, the carpet will indeed end up stained once more with blood, and from there the idea of violence will spread through the room until someone decides to finish the matter outside instead." every word was delivered with the certainty of someone who had witnessed the same scene unfold countless times before, and admittedly, someone who had occasionally been responsible for the broken nose portion of the prediction. though when maddox had aimed for the face the last time, a broken nose could hardly be considered anything other than a consequence of his own restraint. that tale, however, had been years ago.
"these nights are remarkably predictable," his gaze drifted across the room before returning to the man beside him. "stay here long enough and you'll begin to realise that."
location: outside of lucky coyote casino, a night of rest event.
status: open 0/3
it was difficult to tell whether it was truly a smile or merely the shape his the expression that had settled upon maddox as he emerged from the darkness of an alley adjoining the casino; lively as ever within and haunting quiet out with. but a quiet hum drifted from under his breath as he wiped a crimson stain from his hands with a handkerchief retrieved from the inner pocket of his jacket, completely methodical in the task as he worked carefully at his knuckles and beneath his nails before folding the cloth away once more. the night air filled his lungs. not quite fresh, and certainly not as peaceful as it pretended for now.
then his attention shifted with darkened eyes settling upon the newcomer who had stepped into view just moments ago, and for a moment he simply regarded them before speaking. "if your intention is to enter the alley, do mind the mess." his tone was conversational, almost courteous, even, "and try not to trip over the lump resting there."
his gaze flicked briefly back towards the now shadowed form that remained discarded further within before returning to the other. "he had a little too much to drink." a pause following his explanation, deliberate and unhurried. "and, well.. loose lips on nights such as this can be rather inconsiderate of everyone else."
"that's hurtful, sky." minho pressed a hand dramatically against his chest as he dropped into the seat opposite her anyway, entirely uninvited and entirely unsurprised by the refusal. "i hadn't even asked yet." his expression made it abundantly clear that gambling had absolutely been one of the options he intended to offer. "besides, you're acting as though losing money is the only outcome. some people win." his grin widened as he leaned back in his chair. "a second drink, however, is a reasonable request that i can maybe arrange."
minho glanced out across the casino floor, following the same currents of tension sky seemed to be watching. the smiles were all a little too sharp tonight. conversations lingered too long. every gang in the city was crammed beneath one roof pretending not to hate each other. it was endlessly entertaining. "though I think you're underselling the appeal of staying." he nodded toward a table across the room where two men appeared one misplaced comment away from strangling each other with their ties. "we're at least an hour away from someone's self-control collapsing."
"and yet, i know you well enough to know exactly what words are about to come out of your mouth," sky pointed out anyway, entirely and completely unconcerned with whether the accusation would be a wound to his pride or not. still, the ghost of a smile teased at the corners of her lips. "those who win are usually foolish enough to spend their winnings on another round," she added, one brow arching as though silently daring him to challenge her on that particular piece of logic tonight.
her attention drifted in the direction he'd indicated then though, the faint amusement half fading now as she watched what looked suspiciously like a storm brewing between two people across the room from them. almost feeling like something inevitable in nights light this, an outcome neither party over there seemed interested in avoiding despite the warning signs. a slight frown made its way onto her features. "you seem remarkably unconcerned about the outcome."
billy has been loitering near a row of slot machines for a while now, not playing so much as occupying the space beside them. he’s dressed better than usual, which mostly means someone has bullied him into a shirt without an oil stain, though the cigarette tucked between his fingers ruins most of the effort. around him, the lucky coyote is all noise and shine, smug laughter spilling over the machines here and there while glasses catch the light every time someone lifts a drink. he has lasted longer than he thought he would. long enough for one drink and the realization that these things are mostly just people standing around with nicer shoes and worse grudges. not bad, really, for his first proper night at this kind of thing. the lighter clicks once, twice, then gives him absolutely nothing for his trouble. billy looks down at it, unimpressed, before movement nearby pulls his attention. he lifts the useless thing between two fingers, mouth pulling slightly at one corner. “ hey, got a light? ”
maddox was counting the seconds. seconds to what, exactly, was knowledge that was almost kept entirely to himself. it could have been anything; from the minutes leading up to his own departure, or someone else's. the distinction rarely ever mattered much in nights like these. the glass of whiskey resting in his hand was met with the occasional tap of his thumb against the clear crystal as he lingered at the edge of the room as a figure that bordered on haunting, truly. it was hardly that he refused to engage in the gambling of the night, but rather he had always been better known for the private rooms, where the stakes were considerably.. deadlier than simply cards and chips.
still, he felt someone draw closer eventually, his gaze shifting with a deliberate slowness. casting over them once completely before settling on the lighter. a brow lifted almost imperceptibly. "you should be careful who you ask that of," whether it was a warning or amusement was difficult to tell when his expression shifted in no way visibly. surprisingly, or perhaps not, maddox reached into his pocket and withdrew his own lighter. the thing was old, bordering on something antique as it was worn by years of use and repair. with a flick, a flame bloomed briefly in the space before he snapped it shut again and held it out. "some people will ask a favour for anything."
A quiet huff of amusement escaped him. Kian leaned one shoulder against the bar, dark eyes flicking briefly toward the wine glass in her hand before returning to her face. The refusal had arrived before the invitation itself, which told him more than she probably intended. Impatient. Guarded. And observant enough to know exactly what kind of establishment she'd walked into.
"That's unfortunate," he replied smoothly. "Because I wasn't going to ask." Truthfully, gambling bored him. The casino's patrons spent their evenings wagering money on probabilities they barely understood. And the house always won eventually. These were all rules of the game itself. His gaze drifted across the casino floor before returning to her. "As for the drink, I imagine that's easily solved." A subtle gesture toward the bartender was enough to signal another round. He didn't ask what she was having. He'd already noticed. "You seem disappointed, though."
her eyes raised to him, assessing quietly. be that expression, tone or posture, sky took note of it all, cataloguing the details of what was present, before setting her now emptied glass down on the bar and waiting with a certain amount of patience for the promised next one. "hm, how odd of you, then," but if there was one less person attempting to drag her into tonight's entertainment and losses, then she wasn't going to complain. even if that still required staying in some stage of alert, even in this moment.
"disappointed in what way?" she asked, gaze drifting just past him then towards the bartender as he prepared the waiting drinks. for a brief moment in her silence, she almost wished to will him to move quicker. "in the night? the company? or the simple fact we've established you're not asking me to gamble?" the corner of her mouth twitched upwards, just a little, faint amusement at least breaking through it. "because i wouldn't call any of it.. disappointing," her gaze returned to him then, "boring, perhaps. predictable and a little tiring given i can think of plenty of other way to occupy my night. but not necessary disappointed."
A not so subtle snort fanned from Shay's nose. "Well then, I guess it's fortunate for you, and very unfortunate for me, that the only thing I have left to lose tonight are my clothes and my dignity—In no particular order, though if I had money left I'd put it on simultaneously."
Discretion was never her strong suit. Neither was impulse control. She'd already wagered away all she could afford to within her first hour of making the rounds at the casino and, if Rafe was anywhere nearby, the rest of her list was no doubt soon to follow.
Margot Schaffer never met a stupid decision she didn't love. Or a lost cause, apparently.
Still, even several hundred bucks lighter and wholly aware of exactly how well she willingly fucked herself at any given chance, there was a smile on her face when she added, "Not sure if the impending shitshow"—her own or otherwise—"is good enough reason to stick around, but there's only one way to find out."
"i can hardly tell which order for those two is the better outcome of events," sky laughed, the sound itself far lighter than she would offer with most others. but the comment had caught her just slightly off guard, and enough to ease some of her own tension in the amused sort of way. if nothing else of the night, she supposed it was nice to see people genuinely enjoying themselves.
there was a part of her now that envied the sort of carelessness others had. the ease they embodied themselves with to simply exist, unconcerned of consequence or outcome that could wait until the following morning.. or at the very least when everyone was more sober, anyway.
but her gaze drifted back across the casino floor, lingering on crowds and tables for just a moment longer as she spoke. "the 'impending shitshow' as you call it, may genuinely be my only reason for staying." she gave a half shrug, easy. "though that also comes with the understanding that my door will remain firmly closed to anyone that expects my help in their own clean up." she rested her chin against her palm then, leaning against the table. "do you think the carpet is actually going to survive the night?" she hummed, the amusement threading back in once more, "because i'm fairly certain that the last man who ruined it disappeared for a month, and came back with the strangest apology i've ever heard."
location: lucky coyote casino, a night of rest event.
status: open to any — feel free to assume pre-established relationship or go off vibes.
"if you're coming to ask me to join you in a game of god knows what, please hold your breath and save it for another," sky spoke, lifting her wine glass to take another sip as she gave an equal shake of her head; refusal already waiting before the question and answer had been given. for as much as she enjoyed a night out, gambling had never, and never would be, one of her past times. "offer me anything other than creative ways to lose my money, and perhaps my answer will change," her head tilted in thought, "another drink wouldn't go amiss. or a compelling reason as to why i should stay any longer than i already have." that last part sky was rather sure was because there was still something strangely fascinating about watching everyone gathered together at once, in one place. watching the personalities that clashed under the veneer of what was promised to be a pleasant evening. a lingering curiosity remained even over if someone would eventually become foolish enough to turn the night towards violence as it so often did.
❝ she's having dinner with her family on friday night. they're talking 'bout tv shows, and they never really fight. i hope she never has to feel empty; i hope she never has to meet this version of me. ❞
( dove cameron, 29, cis woman, she/her ) ⸻ hey, wait a second— i could swear that was SKY SINCLAIR that just walked past. don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the MEDIC of THE D'AMICO FAMILY? they’ve been a member for 2 YEARS and apparently they’re actually LOYAL, so make sure not to forget this time. i’ve heard they’re known as THE JUSTICE, and i can tell you for sure that they’re DEPENDABLE and INTELLIGENT on a good day, but i don’t think you’d like to see them when they’re STUBBORN and HYPER INDEPENDANT. rumour has it that they HAVE LIVED A LIFE SAVING THOSE WHO DO NOT DESERVE IT WHILST FAILING TO SAVE THE ONLY ONE THAT DID, but i don’t know if anyone has ever lived long enough to confirm it. either way, most people would use ALTERNATIVE by RORY to describe them, as well medical tape wrapped around broken fingers, oversized hoodies stolen from the only people she cares about, coffee gone cold beside unused textbooks and too full journals, to carry everyone else's burdens and double your own, to be needed rather than wanted, voicemail's replayed when the panic sinks in, habits inherited from the already gone, empty chairs at empty tables, late night knocks on a door that never stop, surviving it first before ever processing the pain, a gaze that lingers too long to read what is left unsaid, control as habit. god only knows how they ended up here, but love them or hate them, they’re not going anywhere
— 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝚰𝐂𝐒.
full name: sky emmeline sinclair
nicknames: star, princess, tbh she doesn't care much for nicknames
age & birthday: 29 | january 1st
gender identity & pronouns: cis woman | she/her
gang & role: the d'amico family | medic — her oldest brother is in the gang and she joined as a means to protect herself
primary & secondary weapon: pistol. she doesn't care much for weapons, she'd use her nails at a push for it; but don't take that for her having an inability to fight or defend herself
occupation ( if applicable ): n/a
born: san diego, california
past residence: multiple cities across california, oregon and arizona — aged 20-27
current residence: coyote's rest, las vegas. she lives in the d'amico mansion — since 27
— 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒.
parents: cassian hill ( father — no contact ) & emmeline sinclair ( mother — murdered when sky was 19 )
siblings: two older brothers ( oldest is in the d'amico family, the leader if open ) and older sister — open connections !
extended family: tba but open !
relationship with the family: her mother was by all accounts her hero, so being witness to her death and being unable to save her, but being the one that was there at the end, very much fucked with her. and especially after everything they'd been through. her father she's been no contact with for years now, the man more of less a ghost to her than an actual father, and a big reason that she has a distain for men. her siblings are tbd, but her oldest at least is the reason she's alive and save and the one that got her a place within the d'amico family; very close bond even if it was likely strained for a while.
pets: scrunch, screech & scratch ( bengal cats she's had for six years, and yes they live up to their names )
orientations: pansexual / romantic
relationship status: single
exes: tbd — connections open !
— 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.
face claim: dove cameron
height: 5'1"
build: lean, dancers build sort of. very graceful in her own way but not like super built or attempting to be
eye colour: green, but can look a little blue in certain lights
hair colour: black and typically straight, but tends to pull it back when she's thinking or it's starting to overstimulate her. has occasionally bleached it blonde, but it's usually in a crsis mentally
style habits: her style tends to drift depending on her mood, but it can turn very gothic in a kind of romantic, victorian kind or way, or into a more carefree easy going vibe as well. she takes quite a lot of pride in her style, and she has spend a rather great amount of her wardrobe, anyway. she rarely ever dresses for anyone but herself, but check her pinterest for examples
tattoos: decently tattooed, some more fine line than others but most usually have some kind of meaning to her
scars: she has a fair amount of large scars across her right side from when she tried to fend off her mothers attacked, as well as a large and deep scar down her right palm from the glass that cut into her hand when she killed another connected to her mothers murder
aesthetics: medical tape wrapped around broken fingers, oversized hoodies stolen from the only people she cares about, coffee gone cold beside unused textbooks and too full journals, to carry everyone else's burdens and double your own, to be needed rather than wanted, voicemail's replayed when the panic sinks in, habits inherited from the already gone, empty chairs at empty tables, late night knocks on a door that never stop, surviving it first before ever processing the pain, a gaze that lingers too long to read what is left unsaid, control as habit
fears: being truly seen and rejected, loving someone that she cannot save or turns out to be exactly like the men she expects, feeling useless, everything she has survived amounting to nothing at all, being hunted by ghosts
habits: lighting cigarettes just to watch the smoke spiral and twist before taking a drag, rubbing her scarred palm when deep in thought, staying up too late with the lights low and the music from a record player the only sound, leaving notes in books she rereads time and time again, fiddling with her sleeves without realising, glaring when she thinks she’s smiling
hobbies: walking around the city at night when no one else is around to witness, eavesdropping because it's as natural as breathing, reading in her own little quiet corner of the world, feeding the strays in her area, knitting because it's close to stitching, volunteering when she has the time and emotional capacity to give back
mbti type: intj
moral alignment: chaotic good
character parallels: tbd
— 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝚰𝐂𝐀𝐋.
disorders: internalised anxiety, ptsd, night terrors
allergies: allergic to your bullshit
sleeping habits: she works late hours and often for a reason, so you're looking at something that's more rare than natural in the fact she will stay awake for days before she crashes
exercise habits: she keeps up a minor routine, but she doesn't care too much for it. runs early morning when she needs to burn off energy, and only keeps up with pilates and yoga when it comes to her preference
drug use: prescribed anti-anxiety meds at some point as well as sleeping aids, but it's hit or miss if she takes them. she won't say no to recreational use though, depending on who it is with and why
alcohol use: moderate. she doesn't get drunk all that often, but she does enjoy a drink with dinner or in more social occurrences
smoking habits: if you need a cigarette, she is your gal.. that's all i'll say
— 𝐇𝚰𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.
her early life was never something particularly easy, though in the same breath she would be amongst the first to tell another that it could have certainly been something far worse than it was.
she's the youngest of four, and sky arrived at a point in the life of her family where most would consider that another mouth to feed was more of a complication than anything close to a blessing. but if her mother was ever one to consider that thought, she did not show it. not when from the very beginning of sky's life, she was loved fiercely and without condition from the mother that raised her.
her father, however, well, that's an entirely different story. the man was never present enough to be remembered, but he was absent enough to have never ever been relied upon. not by sky, not by her siblings, and not by her mother who may have just resented the man to a dangerous degree despite the children brought into he world alongside him.
sky's father drifted in and out of their lives however it suited him, disappearing as quick as he would offer a superficial greeting and acknowledgement. that is how sky learned early that to expect anything from his was foolish, and that it would only ever lead her to disappointment. a disappointment that would be shaped by all of the men that drifted into her life, even.
money growing up was always tight, and there as never quite enough of it for all of them. but somehow her mother always found a way to keep the food on the table and a roof over their heads. but looking back on it now, sky didn't understand how she managed it, only that she always did.
even now, there is no one that sky has ever respected more than her mother. because she grew up watching a woman who was exhausted more often than not and yet somehow forever managed to find a way to give enough of herself to everyone around her. enough that she became the woman that sky would spend her life trying to become, whilst wishing that the world had been kinder to her, all the same.
by the time sky entered her teen years, her siblings had all mostly drifted off into their own lives, searching and wanting for more whilst remaining close where they could. but sky's relationship with her mother was almost strained. not in anger or a break, but in pain. in the pain that sky had become unwilling witness to what the woman was going through. to the abuse that was surfacing within her most recent relationship.
she was becoming frighteningly good at recognising the signs that most people kept hidden. injuries dismissed without explanation, bruises alongside the fear, and the lies that left her mothers lips with false smile and gentle kisses against her forehead not to worry.
sky's mother was the bravest woman she knew, but life isn't always kind to it's bravest beings.
it was in the midst of this that sky's fascination and intrigue with medicine began to develop. at first it was something practical, the fact that she wanted to help where she could even if her mother would deny it. and then gradually it grew into more than than, something closer to purpose and potential futures.
she found work young and where she could, more than what her age likely should've been considered for and certainly for positions that she was more than too young for. but she spent every moment between that learning what she could, and quietly building towards the life that she may finally be able to make stable. be that for herself, or for her mother. safety.
and the year that sky got a scholarship at nineteen into a rather prestigious med school, was also the year that her mother died.
the details remain vague in the sense that she isn't one to often talk about it, that sometimes those wounds remain far too raw. but beneath all of that the woman had been murdered by the man that had been the root cause of her pain these past years, and the cause of the pain sky had sat night by night healing.
and so then she was gone, and sky found out the true meaning of grief in the aftermath. something that sat beside her heart and refused to move out of the space no matter the time that would pass.
it became something that changed her in more ways that one as she withdrew from everything. what was the point in pursuing dreams, after all, when you could do nothing but hold the woman who have loved you with every fibre of her being as she died in your arms? blood on the hands that would never wash off. her own scars from the night of the murder as forbidden witness, even after healing into raised and pale lines and marks.
sky's next few years were spent drifting, mostly. despite abandoning medical school, she never truly abandoned medicine itself. she moved between jobs and cities alike, mostly finding work where she could and learning as she needed to survive. some of it legal, others less than so. she'd stitch wounds where questions weren't asked, and she learned quickly just how many different ways desperation could present itself.
all the while the pain and the anger built inside for the man who had murdered her mother and never been caught. a blind eye cast because what was the point in the chase.
sky saw the point, she saw the red of it all. and it was that in which that led her to doing the unthinkable in the way that she barely remembers it now. because sky was twenty six when she found her mother's ex partner, the murderer. and sky was twenty six when she pressed broken glass between fragile ribs and skin. once. twice. six times. her own blood from the glass embedding into her palm mixing with his as she watched it fall from mouth and wound. listened to the wet bubble of pain and moan on his lips.
that night was a blur to her now, some dissociative numb haze as she'd walked out the alley with something she cannot yet name deep inside.
but little did she know that that act alone would begin a new chapter of her life, and one that could be considered far more dangerous than the last.. because it is all well and good achieving a revenge you did not realise you needed. but when that revenge is accompanied by risk as the man had dangerous affiliates.. well, it left ghosts to haunt the living in new ways.
in realising that she had just made many more enemies than she knew possible due to his connections to local gangs, sky would've likely found herself six feet under in the following year if her eldest brother had not gotten to her first.
see, sky hadn't seen him in far too long, only know that he'd drifted off to god knows where and seemingly found a space in the world for himself. but that space was amongst the d'amico family in coyote's rest, and in finding out her name was circling other areas as threat.. well, he had found her first.
and that was how sky found herself as an apparently much needed medic within the d'amico family, following back into old habits and knowledge just in shadier places. it was both saviour and damning, but it was something.
— 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒.
bro i already lost steam writing everything above, i ain't getting anything down here yet
but uhhhh i will add that if you tick her off, you're rude, or she thinks you're being dramatic, she's gonna refuse you as her patient
❝ where i was raised there was no street lights, just pitch black and passing headlights. and where we met there must have been dark signs, omens in your skies. ❞
( manny jacinto, 35, gender apathetic, he/they ) ⸻ hey, wait a second— i could swear that was MADDOX VOSS that just walked past. don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the LEADER of NAMELESS? they’ve been a member for 16 YEARS and apparently they’re actually LOYAL, so make sure not to forget this time. i’ve heard they’re known as THE HUNTSMAN, and i can tell you for sure that they’re OBSERVATIVE and DOMINANT on a good day, but i don’t think you’d like to see them when they're CALOUS and BLUNT. rumour has it that they MURDERED THEIR FATHER AT 13 WITH A CROSSBOW, but i don’t know if anyone has ever lived long enough to confirm it. either way, most people would use DARK SIGNS by SLEEP TOKEN to describe them, as well the feeling of rot slowly destroying you from the inside, to radiate cold and never warmth, a tear through that old family portrait, hands stained in the blood that has been bathed in, the childhood that dies in a thundering applause, the elegance of horror, the arrow shot straight to hell. god only knows how they ended up here, but love them or hate them, they’re not going anywhere.
gang & role: nameless | leader — ended the life of the last leader due to their incompetence leaking into everything
primary & secondary weapon: crossbow or bow and arrows | throwing knives — crossbow tends to be self modified, and he can uses a gun but he dislikes them and finds them.. impersonal by comparison
occupation ( if applicable ): n/a
born: london, england
past residence: feltham young offender institution, london — aged 13-18
current residence: coyote's rest, las vegas. he lives within the glassline towers penthouse, he rarely uses the headquarters as somewhere to live — since 19
— 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒.
parents: sebastian voss ( father — deceased, former head of the voss empire, murdered by maddox with a crossbow ) & ophelia voss ( mother — deceased, murdered by maddox five years ago after their estrangement with poison )
siblings: two older brothers and a younger sister — open connections !
extended family: tba but open !
relationship with the family: siblings are tbd, but maddox was once close with his parents, in the sense that he acted how he was expected to act for them and followed what they wished for. but that of course fell apart at 13 when he killed his father after catching him cheating, and then he cut contact with his mother sometime after 18 when she got him out of prison and he disappeared
pets: creature ( somewhat feral stray black cat that he took in sometime ago and lives within nameless headquarters )
orientations: demisexual/romantic
relationship status: single
exes: tbd — connections open !
— 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.
face claim: manny jacinto
height: 5'11"
build: lean, athletic build that's been built through years of his own discipline and training. he's built for endurance rather than brute force
eye colour: near black, or close enough in lower lighting
hair colour: black and falling just past his shoulders. usually tied back and maintained
style habits: predominantly found in anything black and that allows for te freedom of movement. think your typical "assassin" get up but more gothic and almost tailored in some ways. tactical goth
tattoos: heavily tattooed across his entire body, all of it black work with no colour, including the crowned star that is placed on the front his neck, along his throat — see pinterest for more on this
scars: numerous scars that have been accumulated over the years, from that of his childhood, to more recent knife wounds, burns or some poorly healed injuries. most are concealed beneath the ink of his tattooes
aesthetics: the feeling of rot slowly destroying you from the inside, to radiate cold and never warmth, a tear through that old family portrait, hands stained in the blood that has been bathed in, the childhood that dies in a thundering applause, the elegance of horror, the arrow shot straight to hell, the bells ring for the already dead, wolves circling the unseeing, the boy that grew into the executioner alongside the devil
fears: losing control, vulnerability, intimacy, becoming anything other than who he is now
habits: mains eye contact to a point that borders no uncomfortable, taps his rings of any surface in a rhythm of his own creation, cleans blood off himself almost immediately, memorises people and remembers details others would not, has eyes on every exit
hobbies: reading, listening to classical music whilst he sharpens or adjusts weapons, chess, collecting antique weaponry to display or restore, archery of course, hunting
mbti type: intj
moral alignment: lawful evil
character parallels: lady macbeth ( macbeth ), christian grey ( fifty shades of grey.. jfc on that one ), azula ( atla ), hannibal lecter ( hannibal ), general kirigan ( grishaverse ), annalise keating ( htgawm ), thomas shelby ( peaky blinders ), kaz brekker ( grishaverse ), tseng ( final fantasy 7 ), light yagami ( death note ), coriolanus snow ( hunger games )
sleeping habits: notoriously poor sleeper due to being a chronic insomniac, so he typically averages a good 4-5 hours a night if he's lucky, but wakes easily
exercise habits: he maintains a strict and disciplined routine with daily training on endurance, flexibility and combat
drug use: recreational use isn't uncommon, but he rarely does anything that will allow him the loss of control. more known to take sedatives than anything else
alcohol use: drinks heavily and rather frequently, but years of tolerance has turned him into something of a functional addict to the point it's hard to tell when he's actually intoxicated
smoking habits: heavy smoker, can go through packs a day if he's under intense stress. it's a tell, really
— 𝐇𝚰𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.
maddox was born into the voss family, and one that could be considered to have gone beyond what wealthy typically meant and ventured instead into that of old money. they were the sort of family with a surname that opened doors to whatever they wanted. his father was the current head of the voss empire in london, and madox alongside his siblings would have been expected to follow in similar footsteps towards the family business.
his parents were never too keen on the caring aspect of being parents considering affection was often conditional with praise earned through ones achievements rather than freely given. however, and some could certainly attribute that to why he is the way he is now. to why he turned out exactly how he was unexpected.
when maddox was five he got his first understanding of combat and violence as his father signed him up for martial arts just like his brothers had also done before him. not something presented as a choice. he had never questioned it, simply went alongside what was expected as his younger sister would later be enrolled into ballet. he roles set out in waiting to be filled by the children of the already elite.
he took up archery only a couple of years following that, something that they quickly found he excelled at with an aim beyond precise and instinctive. reflexes honed. it was perhaps the first thing that he truly enjoyed, and one of the skills built to feel like his own rather than for the family name. and truly, at that young and age maddox assumed he could simply make it in life later as an athlete, that being the youngest of three sons would mean the family business rarely meant anything to him.
and still, the exposure to violence only continued through maddox's childhood. the next of that coming only when he was ten and he followed his eldest brother to what he'd assumed would be something stupid, reckless maybe. he hadn't expected to see the oldest of the siblings to be participating in paid fights. and maddox should not have witnessed it, nor should he have found a fascination with it and he continued sneaking into such events with an odd sort of ease. it was the first form of violence that he had witnessed that wasn't hidden behind expensive suits and empty glasses and words.
but it was at thirteen that life finally took the turn into the truly unknown. the unexpected. the terrifying.
maddox was thirteen, returning from private practice where he'd recently been learning and research crossbow's and techniques to go alongside his already existing knowledge of archery as it was. but as he returned, dark eyes crossed over the private gates and found his father just outside of the dark of a poorly lit light, with a woman who was not his wife.
maddox would later find himself struggling to explain the decision behind his actions.. not because he didn't understand what it was that he had just done, but because the choice had felt incredibly straight forward to him. a crossbow cocked and aimed as he watched the woman disappear, before his father turned and saw him. and maddox pulled the trigger. the final straw triggered as maddox faced something about his father that felt misplaced, aggressive even. vile.
when the police were eventually alerted, they found maddox stood next to the body that had two bolts sticking out of the chest, and not a sign of guilt on the thirteen year olds face, nor any attempt made to flee the scene.
maddox spent five years within a juvenile prison in london following the murder, something classed high enough to have made several rounds of news broadcast on top of it. but it was in there that maddox learned how to read others, to understand them beyond the violence and catalogue it.
and by all accounts he should not have been allowed out, should have instead been moved to an adult offenders facility. but thanks to a mother with connections, blackmail and bribery, alongside a highly paid lawyer, maddox was released.
see, it was pretty safe to say that his family has never been as pure and delicate as it portrays itself.
after his release maddox was cleared of all charged, a record wiped clean, at least on paper, despite the headlines that had been scrubbed in the aftermath. still, he didn't spent as much time at home as he was perhaps expected to, instead disappearing one night without looking back, leaving behind everything apart from the name. becoming something of a phantom haunting a home as he instead found his way across the pond to america, coyote's rest within vegas, specifically.
it was in this transition at nineteen that he found himself falling into the hands of nameless, discovering somewhere that loyalty was valued more highly that that of pedigree for the first time. finding structure and purpose in their own twisted way of it.
he started off like any other as a recruit, before working his way up fairly easily towards becoming one of the many assassins plaguing the ranks of the gang. building a reputation quickly that became tied to precision alongside the brutality, for is maddox was sent after someone, then that job would surely be completed. this is where the huntsman was born.
and eventually, without truly wanting it or even considering it an option, maddox found himself taking over the gang at the prime age of twenty nine, ten years after his initiation.
he didn't plan on being their leader, and anyone that knows a decent amount about the man would've understood that that was the last thing he likely wanted to happen. but when it came down to it, there was only one man bold enough and frustrated enough to send an arrow flying into the head of the old leader when their incompetence became something even he could not turn a blind eye to.
with the arrow shot, a leader dead, the head of that crown had fallen to his own and despite his agitation towards the role. many were already expecting the transition of power to end in bloodshed, but instead he stepped into it with whatever it was that he could give back to the gang that had aided in raising him in some ways.
he may not be caring, nor kind or considerate, but he is loyal to his own and in the years passed they have gone through.. terrible times, and his goal was to put things back into place. and he has done that. under his leadership nameless has become considerably more feared and ruthless, earning their position among the ranking of gangs. inefficiency removed, weakness dealt with immediately, and loyalty rewarded for what it was.
— 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒.
his weapon of choice will always be a crossbow or bow and arrow, and it's rare you find him without one of them on him. his second weapon and meant more for backup would be silver throwing knives, usually kept under his sleeves for quick access.
i can promise you that if you decide to try and nickname him anything relating to that of: legolas, katniss or hawkeye or god knows what else, then you're probably going to find an arrow in your eye..
he does sometimes just drop off the face of the earth. like, he prefers to be out of reach sometimes to a point that some assume he may have just died out there, but he's usually just seeking genuine solace.
he has a fairly twisted sense of what's right and wrong, and that may be because maddox rather enjoys playing and toying with his victims, even if he is simply supposed to be intimidating them. he doesn't find a quick kill satisfying.. so it's safe to say no one really wants to be on that side of him. he is the huntsman for a reason, anyway.
he still has a posh british accent, yes.
he is 100% on a most wanted list.
i didn't add it into his background, but he killed his mother five years ago due to the loose end she represented and the fact that after finding him again she tried to pressure him into contact that he did not want. he did not hate the woman, but he didn't see an ending that went any other way.
uh i'll add more to this but i feel like this gives a good impression of what he's like
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