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@athanei
hello, angel here. welcome to my muse that i’ve been writing for five years (but with sporadic activity lol) i’m currently working on a carrd, but i’ve written a google doc for this blog before that you check out here. i have also introduced two characters that are relevant to my character’s development (check the gist here) and a timeline of my main arc for this blog. cheers!
i moved rose (and christian!) to a dual muse blog over here @esurivi
ok starter call let's do this
Cleopatra (19th century) - Pierre-Joseph Mousset
hamato,
today, you've made an enemy. i’d forgive you if the only person you've hurt is me. but touching my brother, i will never let that pass. wasn't christian your brother too? your hatred for me must be great for you to hurt him. i hope you understand the actions i have made today, actions i do not regret, actions i’m willing to do again. keep in mind that if it wasn't for my brother's mercy, i would've killed them too.
we've been playing cat and mouse for a while now, your intention for power in exchange of my life is still embedded in me. you called me a traitor, but aren't you one as well? hypocrite. if my mother promised you power, remember that she gave it to me first and it was her first mistake.
i hope next time, i will be seeing you. for now, i'll give you time, enough time for this letter to reach you, time for you to send me your apologies.
you will not hurt christian anymore. go against me and you'll see what the god you want to become can do.
treat this as my last act of mercy.
i was never yours, miyoung rosaline.
rosaline lebeau & godliness: the beginning. the afterimage of athena: for better or worse?
what makes you a god? beauty, power & violence. erasing the self, embracing immortality.
she looks at herself in the mirror, the black dye on her hair starts to fade, she sees her origin. grey eyes, like brewing storm, stare back at her then to the blood smeared on her cheeks. it was still warm, a fresh kill. it happened quickly, her dagger slashing flesh and she watched his blood trickled from his neck. she can still hear his voice, how his last word was the name of the person she claims to be, ‘ miyoung ’ it was like a plead, one more prayer before his life ended before her, because of her. there is no denial in what happened, she killed one of her own for another and she feels no remorse. when the others ran away, she wanted to go after them, she wanted to kill again, but he stopped her. ‘ don’t .’ christian’s hand was rough against her, opposite to the softness of his voice. there is blood on her face, his, and because it’s her. she let them hurt him for her, but never again. she thinks of what keeps on holding her back, she looks again in the mirror. her hair as black as midnight, an erasure of her origin, of what she’s supposed to be. an identity she made to mask the truth, the truth she keeps on a blind eye, now crumbling before her. this is what she can do, what more can she do for herself, for christian. her fingers are stained with blood, hers, christian’s, theirs. she washes it off, the water is red, like her rage, rage she kept for so long. she has always been kind, kindness that lead her to tragedy, tragedy that she will face with cruelty. this is what her mother wanted her to be, like her, a god with no mercy. now, she can be. her necklace feels light around her neck, no longer suffocating her. was she supposed to be grateful to its giver? is this what he wanted to see? a beauty, now embedded with cruelty? she washes her the blood from her cheeks, this will not be the last. she is now clean, thoughts are crystal clear. she looks at herself in the mirror, she still looks like her lies. her dagger lies in the countertop, it can work, for now. she parts her hair, one hand holds her lies, the other holds the truth. the dagger passed smoothly through her hair, now, they no longer rest on her shoulders. soon, her hair will be blonde again. next time, she’ll have it cut properly, then she’ll be perfect. the neoteric god: beautiful, powerful and violent. and she will be the only one, she will no longer be an afterimage.
-
in her current arc, i will be focusing on rose’s self as a god. when i started writing rose, i have always focused on her humanity, her mortal self. but with the plot i have for her, change will be inevitable. from a girl who wouldn’t hurt a fly to a woman who will kill with no remorse. my npcs like hamato saito and christian zhou will be present (i will introduce them properly soon!). for now, this marks the beginning of rose as the neoteric god.
I chose the dream of human love.
Anaïs Nin, from “The Four-Chambered Heart,” originally published c. 1950 (via violentwavesofemotion)
☾ 31 days of halloween / day fourteen “boobytraps & improvised anti-personel devices, what are you reading that for?”
sunbruise .
switcblade·.
and just like that , she gives the seat away . you’re just teasing her , so shouldn’t you lay it off by now ? it’s been almost five months . they don’t take notice , but he chews still over his lower lip . rose never hid the obvious from him . and neither did he . —–you could almost believe that you like him as much as i do . she’s said once , and he had only slipped out an easy grin , never quite denied or confirmed her suspicion . just balled up his straw - wrappers and flung it at her , deviating the conversation from kenneth , then towards declan , jessica , mr. fullman , anyone that would turn the conversation away from discussing him . “ you’re so dramatic . ” that’s all he says , sliding into the seat next to kenneth and flipping the menu upwards as to block out rose’s face across from him . it’s a petulant act , a juvenile grudge of some sorts , —- there he goes , teasing her again , he could almost hear someone say . “ yeah , get something other than a milkshake this time . swear , you’ll drop dead only eating that stuff . ” and there it went again too , the strange drop in his voice , something soft , something of a warmer suggestion as he finally slides the menu back down . an eye - contact with rose , he wonders what she’s thinking , if she’s taken hint of it yet . a part of him wishes she had , wants her to ask him , become angry with him . after all , she’s never told him anything more than a flippant ‘ i’m fine ‘, before tucking off with her hurt and bruises for weeks of absence . of course , the rational side of him disagrees , wishes for the love - ache would pass like a bad flu . it should always be like this , it should last , the three of us here . rachel takes down the orders , and despite kenneth’s disapproval , they place an order for him as well . and the milkshake too . draping an arm around the boy’s shoulder , he leans in to half - whisper , barely soft enough for rose to hear across the table . “ and kenneth , love , don’t believe a word she says . god , rose . your crush is showing up again . ”
he could not for the life of him acknowledge or even begin to understand the thin lines of hostility exchanged between the two of his friends. with his headspace and familial experience, he had learnt to avoid paying mind to such things and let them be carried out with every switch of words to every glint of snares. let them battle it out and see who wins, as long as he had both within arms reach to stop any major fatalities. him, and his quiet-lipped mouth, kept to the menu where desserts had been barred - his friends would stop at nothing now that they had taken notice, so he settled for the next best thing he could find and what damian could suggest, the promise of a full meal met with a full frown. as rachel took down their orders and kenneth avoided the shine of her smile, he felt damian’s weight drop up and around his shoulder, enough to draw him dangerously near and whisper up claims of a crush, both of which struck pink like a match across his cheeks. he was close enough to smell the mint of damian’s breath, and his english was unfortunately good enough to process the outrageous claim that had been made. the scoff that came out sounded a lot like a revolt of his senses, shoving the boy away and grunting in confusion, the flustered lines of his face cradled back in the dip of his scarf. his hand came up like lightning, striking the back of the boy’s head with a wave of disgruntled mumblings in german. ❛❛ narr. so loud. ❜❜ expression contorted into knots of disagreement and bemusement, he feigned the crossed looks that damian so adored, always craning his head close this way and that in delighted attempts to cheer him up. across from the table, he met eyes with rose and felt the hard lines of his brows soften. how she cared for him, how they both did in their strange ways, had a timer on it - it would be a while from now before they would depart back to their own homes, and kenneth, to the quiet cursed street of the prescotts. with a diminutive sigh, he pushed damian’s face out of his menu and changed topics to save grace for rose. ❛❛ listen. there’s a … football - soccer, whatever - taster tomorrow. i’m signing up. come and watch me? ❜❜
from pinks to reds, — her cheeks blushed upon hearing damian’s remark. conscious, she concealed her flush with a quick brush of her hair with her fingers. it was no secret, her affection to kenneth, a sentiment only he receives. the softest smiles, the gentlest touches, ever so careful, like a bud. there have been whispers about it, stories of young love, but it seems like he does not listen, confined in his world with his notes and melodies. blank thoughts were disturbed by the boy’s action, a burst of laughter escapes her lips. ❛ you deserved that. ❜ a retort she gave with her thumbs up in the air for kenneth. ❛ don’t believe a word damian says. i don’t have a crush on you. ❜ another day of her lies, a constant denial. ❛ i’m actually going out on a date next week with one of his teammates. ❜ an invitation from a boy, his name she does not recall. there has been plenty, companies that only last for a night. she doesn’t mind, it’s fine, warmth does not last long in her home. it’s emptiness deafening, something is better than nothing. her brows perked upon the mention of soccer, another sport? ❛ oh. try - outs ? i didn’t know you play soccer. ❜ she doesn’t know a lot, she doesn’t question it. acquainted with his silence, she didn’t dare to ask any questions she has, patience she has gifted him. ❛ but of course! we’ll be there. damian will treat us for tomorrow’s dinner! ❜ she says along with the string of applause. rachel comes back with their orders, burgers and milkshakes, their staples. she gives her a modest thank you, but in return, she gives her a scoff and a roll of eyes. ❛ she’s so rude to me. i don’t know what i — ❜ her phone lights up, a text, from dad. odd, bad news. i’m staying in san francisco for the weekends. a sigh, she hides her phone in her pocket. plaster a smile, everything’s fine. ❛ let’s eat? ❜
sunbruise .
switcblade·.
“ always the ever thoughtful . thanks . ” his clothes had found a permanent home at her house , stuffed somewhere within the drawers of rose’s expanding closets . there was more history than that : nights of running away from his father’s , bruised cold and resentful , fingers digging shamefully into his pockets as he waited for her to open the doors . it’s that boy again ? her father will throw a fit when he finds out about this . but she never turned him away , and maybe that’s what had kept their estranged friendship from drifting apart entirely . nights of staying up , fixing through geometry problems , and hushed bickering towards each other before the lights dimmed down . damian on the floor , rosaline on the bed , just a boy and a girl . that’s all there had been , that’s all there would be . “ i’ll drive , unless princess’s gotta be back home by her curfew . ” a time - check : 7pm , but there’s a mischief - ridden grin on his face . —-she’d never make it back by her curfew , not as long as the three of them were together . it would earn a handful of complaints , no doubt , and faces full of displeased annoyance , all staring as his black sand corolla pulled through the driveway . a shrug , and he digs for his keys , then yanks both arms around kenneth and rose , tucking them closer to a roughened hug . “ shot - gun for ken . sit in the back , rose . ” a brief pause in his breath , he tips a smile in kenneth’s direction , mouth turning into something soft for a quiet second . so what ? you’re in love with this boy , but so is your best - friend . how long until she figures out ? how long until he figures out ? “ yeah , i know it’s a trash car . it’s a hand - me - down , used to be declan’s . ” pulling his arms back , he tossed the keys mid - air , before catching it in a bright clash of jangling metals . less thoughts , take a cold fucking shower , swann . “ get in , losers . ”
an arm guided him to the car, and he took shotgun as rose filled up the space behind them. splayed across the back seats, she continued muttering about the scoreboard of her phone game while damian quipped back at her from the driving seat. content, and perhaps suspiciously happy, he sunk into the belt of his seat and dipped his nose into his scarf, breathing cold. the entire trip to the restaurant was a fifteen minute drive where he sheltered his expressions, the bits of endearment that threatened the upward tilt of his smile, watching and observing the banter and arguments that ensued. he had grown strangely familiar of the two, and a piece of him thought, he never wanted this to end. they arrived at a decent fast food joint, eddie’s palace. a local favourite for the three of them where kenneth treasured their sweets over their full meals, using cash he’d collect from the courtyard sales of spliffs and cigarettes. even on days when rose and damian offered, he would say he lacked appetite - to arrogant to accept what he deemed charity, and often unable to look past his suspicions to where only kindness waited. when they approached the setting and cornered an empty booth, kenneth slipped in towards the window and plucked his earphones off and away. the menu, sheathed under the glass top of the table, offered a range of options for main meals and sides - he skipped to desserts. at the absence on his sides, he looked up at his friends. rose and damian were watching eachother like hawks, electricity and tension dotting them, as if they couldn’t make up their minds about where to sit. he scanned the booth for irregularities, found none, and speared them with a glare. ❛❛ what - why’re you two being weird? sit down. ❜❜ as they settled in, he glanced back at the menu, pressing his thumb down over the option second to the first: cookies and cream milkshake. ❛❛ rose’s treat? ❜❜
to others, it may seem like torment — but to her, it’s solace, a taste of serenity. they have exchanged myriads of tempers and hushed peals of laughter, the three of them and their memories. she didn’t mind the consequences that come with it, a cycle she didn’t mind repeating. as soon as they parked, the familiar reek of the place brought memories. her taste doesn’t agree with the restaurant’s menu. the burgers were too greasy, the milkshakes were too sweet, but they keep on coming back. as they enter, she says hello to familiar faces, the staff that welcomed them with smiles. approaching their frequent booth, kenneth near the windows, she wanted to sit beside him. still skittish, there is hesitation as she steps forward, hesitation that he did not present. damian just continues to taunt her and whatever motion she does to get closer to kenneth and she doesn’t get why. she doesn’t hide the obvious from him, he was even the first one to point it out. for months, she just lets him. but his reason? remains a question. she raises a brow at him, they were almost eye to eye, he was just a few inches taller than her. sit down, she hears kenneth say. a sigh escapes her lips, exasperated as if accepting … defeat? whatever. ❛ you become seatmates then. ❜ a dismissive wave before she seats on the left couch. ❛ damian takes only one-minute showers. enjoy his stink, kenneth. ❜ she says it rather dramatically as she turns to damian and sticks her tongue out at him. she eyes at the menu, she memorized it by now, all fifty-two items in her head. ( she tried at least half of it, horrible. ) rachel, the waitress that always gives kenneth and damian her sickly sweet smile while rose receives a frown and sneer, approaches their table, pen and paper in her hands. she doesn’t need to speak. ❛ choose anything you want! like what i said, my treat. since damian’s team won … did you guys win? i didn’t watch the game. ❜ hah. ❛ and kenneth, love, have a proper dinner. get whatever damians getting. ❜
switcblade·.
—– it never should have gotten this far . he knows this , has known for a long fucking time , and maybe that’s what makes it even more worse . silly puppy - love is one thing , but the truth is always tenfolds burdensome , more complicated than he means for it to be . he’s lying to rosaline , and perhaps he should be feeling guilty . he should be , — but he doesn’t . the truth is that there’s no puppy - love , there had been a crush , then there had been a brighter realization of something more . kenneth , someone he’d never meant to meet prior to rose’s introduction , a boy he’d fallen for with an audible crash . the lies were just a collateral damage to this realization , and here they were now , with a small shift in the gravity between them all . and what else ? maybe the stars had spun themselves out of alignment too , knocked out of their orbits , stumbling , skidding past the night - sky without direction . that’s a stupidly poetic way to place it , he thinks , to describe the state of his life . across the side - lines and by the bleachers , they stood , both rosaline and kenneth . your best friends . best friends , yet he finds it difficult to contain the spike of envy at the sight of them together . a faint jog across the field , fifteen seconds at most before he reaches them .—- and fifteen second is just enough to swallow that juvenile jealousy . “ guten tag , saw how it went ? scored two on my own . heard dinner’s on rose . ”
he was something out of a dream or film for them, with his foreign accent and intelligent eyes. he spoke less or in few words, intimidated the books; the teachers took notice, and it made the students lean close. at the stammer of his developing english or at the surprise of their american customs, their cheeks would pull up in endeared laughter. to the everyday class, he was someone from a far away land, someone they didn’t quite understand, and someone who was difficult to collect - for everyone but the two who now surrounded him, a girl with champagne blonde hair and pretty polished looks, and then a boy, tall and rather handsome, a pivotal player for his sports team. the two were known for their rather horrendous competitiveness, that drew both amusement from their class peers and annoyance at the hands of each other. if anything held them together, it was either the graded red on their academic papers or kenneth vareck, the very foreign boy who was huddled over the bench between them. perhaps, he had gone fond of them over the course of the past few months as well; they had become something alike to best friends, though he had little conception of the words. before the game had drawn to a close, he had been occupied by the idle chatter of the girl to his left - rose. though his commentary was limited largely to short grunts, there were instances where he pacified her irritation for the whistles with a kind smile of his own. after the game, as the boy - damian - drew close, the kind smile dipped into his scarf, pink dotting his cheek against the stingy cold. ❛❛ hallo. you did well. ❜❜ a hand up and he readjusted the scarf, and twisted himself to better face the girl even if his eyes lingered briefly over the open field. a tilt of his head, waiting confirmation, dragged back by the fatigue of the day and the deprivation of late night sleep. ❛❛ where are we going for dinner? ❜❜
this is not how she imagined her friday night, — her ears filled with the deafening cheers of the crowd, her hands cold from the approaching winter, no. the sport nor the enjoyment of victory or the loss never piqued her interest, but here she is among the crowd, a boy beside her, kenneth. if it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be here. if the sport didn’t interest her, he did. you'll think it's silly, a girl falling for a smile, the flower and the sun. his warmth envelops her in the passing hours, silencing the commotion as if it was just him & her. i told you, it's silly. she rests her head on his shoulder throughout the game, her attention in the game she's playing on her phone. but every once in a while, she steals a glance at him. it was no longer a mystery to anyone, anyone but him. sometimes she wonders if he knows, if he’s playing pretend, but it doesn't matter to her, as long as they're together. we're best friends! a truth and a lie, like her smiles. but she was content, she wouldn’t ask for anything else. she, kenneth and — ‘ damian. ’ she addresses him with a frown as he moves in between her and kenneth. this has been going for some time now, the teasing, this joke he pulls on her. she lets him, ‘ take a joke. ’ she’ll hear him say. ‘ sie stinken. ’ a giggle before turning her attention to kenneth. ‘ did i say that right? ’ then to damian. she hands him a hoodie she brought from home, one from the countless clothes he left, one from the countless memories they made together. ‘ it’s cold and i figured you’ll forget to bring yours. you’re welcome. ’ she looks at the time, 7 PM, she should be home by now. she slips her arm around damian’s then a smile towards kenneth’s direction. ‘ i’m in the mood for burgers. ’ she is home.
@athanei
F R E S H
rosaline lebeau, model student, president of student council, heir to one of the biggest tech companies, who has a curfew at 7 PM, smokes weed in the school gardens
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character trailer
