BLOODLINE @bloodline-rpg - Tumblr Blog

Seven months ago JJ and I created a concept we wanted to see brought to life through the role play group community. We had an idea and a drive. A few days later we built a lore, and characters, and a world where those characters could coexist. Today, with the concept brought to life and players who have come and gone, Bloodline has stood the test of time. This is by far the most ambitious project we’ve decided to create; Bloodline has around thirty-one currently living characters excluding the villains of the story and deceased characters, and despite the challenge of creating a video that was equally as impactful and emotional, as well as a tone setter for the ‘vibe’ we’ve always imagined and wanted to pursue, we set on to make this project a reality, a project to celebrate the six month mark we unfortunately missed, and a project that we hope everyone enjoys just as much as we did when creating it: the official Bloodline opening credits.

Music: Fucked My Way Up to the Top (Instrumental) by Lana del Rey / White Mustang (Instrumental) by Lana del Rey

FULL MOON/HALLOWEEN OCCURRENCE

As the wolves lock up for the night, the unique combination of Halloween and the full moon ... plus wren’s meddling.... creates a portal. Through that portal, three waiting, angry spirits make their way across the threshold and find themselves bodies to reside in.

When the wolves awake after the moon, nothing seems out of the ordinary. But among them, three members of the pack are not themselves.

Congrats, King we’ve accepted your application for your OC, Amir Kelada. Please send your account to an admin ASAP.

WREN MOREIRA // 26 // ORIGINAL WITCH

❝ I'll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd❞

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BIOGRAPHY

Wren Velasco was born dead, a baby without a heartbeat until a spell shocked it into working. Or at least that was what her coven liked to whisper amongst the ranks, a pretty lie to fit into her mythology. No one had any way of knowing. To her coven she first existed as a bright spot on a map, a five year old oprhan being raised by human caretakers. They actively sought out Original witches without other magic or family to turn to, located by an old form of blood scrying. After being talked through the tears and guilt, the couple gave up their adopted child without much fuss. Wren had never spoken a word to either of them. When left alone, she would have full conversations with the walls. Superstitious to the bone, they assumed her cursed.

Wren studied every scrap of magic she was given and tried her very best to fit in with the other children in the tiny village coven. Afraid of being called odd, she avoided eye contact with the shadowed strangers in her peripheral vision. When they whispered things to her, she tried her best to block them out. When spirits sought her out, she ignored them. Every time she didn’t need to actively talk or listen to a member of the living, she had headphones on at full volume, drowning out the voices with eyeliner bands and belting women. She learned to sing, her voice strong from the constant humming, vocalizing, making any sound she could to keep in constant motion. The rituals that benefited from some sort of sung incantation always flowed naturally, and sometimes the older witches would call her in to help. She tried to be a dutiful Original witch. If she exceeded expectations in other ways, she could earn her keep and forget about her innately forbidden abilities. Those dark waters that frightened her would remain unexplored, just like the witch council wanted. Wren caused no trouble.

Until the day the coven leader’s daughter died during a ritual gone tragically wrong. In an act of comfort, Wren found the grimoire hidden under the floorboards of the girl’s closet and returned it to her mother, apologizing for the theft and passing on a few final words. The coven leader gently suggested the idea of relocating to a school that could help her in suppressing her darker talents, but Wren begged and fought her way into staying.

Everyone had an eye on her after that. Witches of her type were exceedingly rare and they tended to bring misfortune upon a coven in the form of hauntings, possessions, even garden variety demons. She was quiet and determined to keep to herself, until she met a witch that wouldn’t give her peace. He started as an academic rival - a cocky bookworm with a form of omnilingualism that the elders used to decode dead or obscure languages. They were only a few days apart in age. He used his words deliberately and like daggers and picked fights with anything that moved. Within the year, the were inseparable. Wren and Jakob claimed to be brother and sister when anyone asked, sometimes twins.

Wren spent so many early childhood days being scared of the ghosts in the corner of her eyes that she didn’t stop to wonder what could possibly terrify her more. A riptide pulled Jakob out to sea at the edge of the ocean. His body washed up waterlogged days later. And so at seventeen, Wren started talking to the spirits willingly. Some ghosts haunted individual places, some haunted people, and some caught wind of the changing current in the supernatural energies and came to find her directly. She mentally exhausted herself for sleepless months on end trying to hunt him down, searching every inch of this plane and calling his spirit forward, but he had either moved on or he didn’t want to be found.

Now that she had opened herself to it, Wren couldn’t redo the stitches to close her mind back up again. It was the only thing that saved her when hunters stormed the high walls of the villa where her coven sat defenseless. The spirits gave her a four minute head start, and the rest of the witches were slaughtered.

Grifting with her ability was pretty easy. She only needed enough money in whatever town she passed through for a suite, a few good meals, and a few devastating outfits. Her magic paid for all of that and more. Turns out, people always wanted to talk to their departed loved ones. When a spirit didn’t feel like cooperating, she made it up, using an uncanny ability to read people to patch in the missing details and some light telekinesis to move a pointer around a Ouija board. Levitating a few inches off the ground was always a good visual trick, too. When the hunting got exceptionally bad, she picked her way up and down the west coast sleeping in mausoleums, knowing that there was always at least one friendly spirit willing to give her warning if a hunter was around. Malevolent spirits came for her too, but her mental wards were usually strong enough to keep them out except in sleep, leading to some pretty vicious nightmares.

Wren couldn’t avoid detection forever. What she was doing was the witch council equivalent to high crimes. By twenty four, she found herself in the walls of their sanctioned school to ‘learn the proper control’. They wanted her to block it out. She played along, but kept wanting to push in the opposite direction. What was she truly capable of if she were ever allowed to fully embrace her ability? She took all the magical instruction they were willing to give her, always looking for a little more power for self preservation’s sake. But she wasn’t an easily moldable child anymore. Eventually Wren fled from the boarding school. To her shock and utter delight, Angelina followed. The tightly buttoned up older witch that endlessly fascinated her. She was imbued with some of the most archaic magic in the universe and she refused to use it for anything fun. By the very nature of her otherness, Wren felt tethered to her.

They travelled together for two years before they made the fortuitous mistake of cutting through the loudest town Wren had ever set foot in. All of the voices competed for her attention at once, an overlapping pattern with the same message about a creature deep below the earth that sounded like a bad myth. She got to ask Lina her pivotal question after one too many shots in the local dusty bar to calm down. Want to see a dead body? They dug up the coffin and gave the female vampire inside blood, performing an act that felt eerily close to raising the dead.

______________________________________PERSONALITY/TRAITS

Thrill seeking, impulsive, and mercurial, the rules of nature itself don’t seem to apply to Wren. Other rules by extension only need to be followed when she feels like it. Social contracts seem so thin and arbitrary when the dead are so free with their secrets. For every single moment of peace or message from the beyond she gives to someone, she’ll tell three lies. Some spirits can sense her intent and won’t engage. Seeing others twist in pain over a loved one is like a cathartic release, a tiny balm to sooth over the cracks of knowing that she wasn’t worth coming back for, and that she’ll never truly belong in either world until she dies herself. Though indulging in an occasional cruel streak, she’s usually a carefree chaotic neutral over anything truly evil. She trusts Lina to be her moral compass, pulling her back in the correct direction if she veers too far off course. Her recklessness is form of not knowing or caring what things can hurt her or what her magic could eventually bring forth, but she isn’t the only one who bears the costs of such risks.

DETAILS

STATUS: Taken

Related bios: Angelina Zavala, Carmen de Leon

Species/Family info: Original Witch

Faceclaim: Priscilla Quintana

ANGELINA ZAVALA // 33 // ORIGINAL WITCH

❝ in the white room with black curtains near the station, black roof country, no gold pavement, tired starlings ❞

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BIOGRAPHY

The Zavalas were a family trained in the art of alchemy. Deeply coveted but not exceptionally rare, Alchemists provided the magical community with a skill set that allowed for manipulation of chemical, material, and everything that encompassed. For decades, most Alchemists in the Zavala coven specialized in specific fields. They could manipulate liquids, or metals. One of her cousins healed the sick by replacing toxins in their bones and blood streams, another uncle in nature using his specialty with water to try and cleanse the earth and keep the sanctity of the magic it provided clean and useable. When Lina was born, her family waited a decade to see where her magic would focus and what good she would do. They anxiously awaited her thirteenth birthday, a time when all Zavala witches participated in a series of skills and magic-based tests to determine the focus of their alchemy. To their surprise, Lina wasn’t stopped by one kind of magic. Her magic altered everything. Her power, effectively limitless.

A day that was meant to be a celebration was hushed. The elders in her family talked at great length about what to do while a young Lina was ushered away to her room. When she emerged the next morning, her parents smiled as though nothing had changed. But Lina knew something had. They looked at her like a time bomb, with caution in their eyes. They sent her away for the summer on a trip with her uncle, helping him to clear an oil spill on the gulf coast. Lina was smothered in her family’s belief in charity and purification, more than any of her other cousins. She spent two years traveling with one family member or another, always being shown the extent of the good her magic could do, coveted like a savior but held at a distance, spoken to -- as Lina always could tell -- like a Pariah.

Lina learned more as she travelled, perfected every skill and corner of alchemy she could mater, but the older she got, the more she wanted to find what else her power could do. If goodness were possible, she assumed that there was even more. She began picking up reading, in every city, finding alchemists on their travels, picking their brains about possibilities. Always quickly tugged back on the short leash of her family’s watchful eye. Returning home from a trip around her 16th birthday, Lina arrived to find her lifelong companion, the cat given to her as a child, dead and buried in her parent’s yard.

They found her that night, hovering over the lifeless creature, with dirt on her fingers and her knees and tear tracks in her eyes. They found her, just moments after the five hours she had spent replacing every single dead cell in her cat’s body with living ones. A kind of magic so entirely forbidden and unheard of that none of her family had ever even thought to tell her that it wasn’t allowed. Even so, it was the very kind of dangerous boundary pushing her parents had once been afraid of. Lina’s power made her god-like, something they feared both for the rest of the world and for her safety.

The next day, Lina was sent away to a very secret, secluded place in Virginia. A school, tucked away on a decrepit old city street, in a building that appeared abandoned to the public eye. The school was something of a convent and something of a prison, a place where young witches were brought when their power was deemed to dark and too dangerous for the outside world. A school that the witch council knew about, paid for, upheld. Her parents told Lina with love in their hands and fear in their eyes that this was for the best, that it would keep her safe, and the guilt in Lina’s chest told her over and over do good, do good, do good.

She followed the rules of the strict school to the letter, excelling in her learned control, and upholding every single boundary placed in front of her without question. But around her, Lina watched with wide eyes as the other students with darker magics than her own suffered torment and discipline in order to try and control the darkness inside of them. It made her even more determined to never show her own darkness, to never speak of the curiosity or the questions, to never ask what would be so bad about bringing back the dead.

By the time she was old enough to leave, Lina was comfortable with the confinement of the school and felt beholden to the children in it, to help teach her peers and others how to control what they were. Ever gentle and gracious, the students always sought comfort in Lina’s presence and her magic offered small delights in their dark home. She even managed to temper some of the techniques the school used to make things safer. Lina stayed there for a few more years, but it was the arrival of one witch that drew her to finally leave.

Wren Moreira was wisp of a girl. With a strong set jaw and big eyes that one could only assume saw things far beyond what anyone else could. A portal of a person with a connection to the dead -- a human seance -- Lina heard one of the instructors call her. But beyond that, Wren neither followed rules nor broke them. She was reckless and independent, always appearing to be listening to something either far beyond any of their comprehension or so intimate and personal that it wasn’t to be shared. Lina found her intriguing, and when every attempt to quell her magic came up short and Wren ran, Lina finally left the boarding house behind and ran after her. In Wren’s eyes, Lina saw a place where dark and light lived together, and ever too curious for her own good, Lina wasn’t willing to let the chance to understand that kind of divinity slip past her.

______________________________________PERSONALITY/TRAITS

For most of her life, Angelina Zavala’s curiosity has always been her driving force. That and her family and coven in her ear; do good, do good, do good. While she learned rigid rules and discipline at the boarding school, she’s spent a large part of her life wondering about the corners her magic can reach. She’s terrified to cross lines she isn’t supposed to, terrified of the morals and ethics she’s had pounded into her head and what it could mean for the world to begin upsetting those truths. But she can’t seem to reason those rigid line with her own truth and her own desire to find what it truly means to be dark or to be light, and why some practices can make a witch a savior and others a monster. For her, Carden Manor is simply another step on that journey of discovery, to understanding every corner and part of magic, her own and otherwise, and perhaps, testing the limits of her own mortality.

DETAILS

STATUS: TAKEN

Related bios: N/A

Species/Family info: Original Witch

Faceclaim: Angelique Boyer

CARMEN DE LEON // 450+ // VAMPIRE

❝ I'm bigger than my body, I'm colder than this home, I'm meaner than my demons, I'm bigger than these bones.❞

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BIOGRAPHY

They would talk about them at night. Folk tales of ancient myth about bloodsucking demons meant to scare children away from mischief, but her mother talked about them like something a little more inhuman, with fear in her eyes like a curse that could be inflicted upon her family in a whim. She’d gotten lucky, Carmen’s mother, or so she said — married a Spanish settler and lived comfortably despite the scrutiny of society while her husband withered away with prostitutes, gambling, alcohol, and any earthly pleasures he could find in the city that had been built from rubble. She’d only heard the stories, about their ancient empires, and their gold, and their dynasties, now forced to live under the thumb ruling of foreigners. The same kind her mother had decided to give her life to in exchange for protection. Except, Carmen’s father was more interested in driving himself off the deep end — drowned in debt and hunted by other townsfolk who wanted retribution for his crimes, his lies, and his waste — than protecting his own.

It was through her father’s demise (a debt collection gone wrong that had resulted in the death of both her parents and her wrongful imprisonment by other powerful men) that she met him for the first time. She had only heard whispers about men like him, about things like him, the same kind of man her mother would’ve either prayed for or prayed to. She wasn’t ever sure if she learned that distinction, but he was powerful, powerful enough that even the settlers believed him to be something otherworldly; a god in his own right, and they worshipped him. Enough so, that when he’d looked at those men in the eyes and ordered her release so surely, she had no choice but to leave with him.

Robert was good to her. A man who had taken her from the rubble her father had left her to die in at the age of twenty, and helped her pick up the pieces to restart a life at his side. He was not without flaws of course — occasionally temperamental, a man who viewed humanity as nothing but a fragile, temporary stage of life, as a fatal defect that had a solution with the tempting premise of immortality, and Carmen had loved him, loved him enough that a few years later, when he’d offered her the choice to stay by his side indefinitely, she’d taken it without hesitation.

But she wasn’t the only one who viewed Robert as a man worthy of veneration, as his settlement in their colony soon became something else.

They would call him everything: a king, a god, a shaman, a Tlahuelpuchi, a bloodsucker — half the people were either too afraid of him to run him out, and the other, too caught up in the idea of the power he could offer to think of him as anything but something to be worshipped. And Robert, once a man who she thought wasn’t interested in what the menial colony with its menial people had to offer, became nothing short of a monster, burning Christian churches who would label him and his practice as Satanic, ordering the murder of other men in positions of power to prove nothing but his own standing, sometimes going as far as killing them with his bare hands and offering their blood to Carmen like a sacrifice for the greater good, terrorizing the town, draining the innocent of their blood — women, children, the elderly — it didn’t matter to him. Those wealthy enough to afford it offered their estates in exchange for his benevolence, and the wealthier he grew the madder with power he drowned. Somehow, she couldn’t help but compare him to her father — and Carmen stood idle, and by his side, until she couldn’t possibly take his madness anymore.

She’d slipped out without a word one night, left him nothing but a note in his native tongue that Carmen had learned from him during the near fifty years she’d stayed with him (unchanged and frozen in time), with the certainty that he would never lay a hand on her. He was nothing if not good on his promises, to never harm her or their love, but Carmen wasn’t so tied by moral qualms. She had nowhere to go and no plan except to run, far enough away that she was sure Robert would never find her, perhaps find herself on a boat across the ocean where she’d find a new life in European lands.

But she should’ve known better. He’d found her, short on blood and miles away from their settlement. What had started as an argument, as she promised she wouldn’t stay with a man as vile as someone like him, had ended in a broken promise, and a new one on his tongue. With a stake through her heart, he’d assured her that no man would ever have the opportunity to love her like he had if she couldn’t love him in return.

He stuffed her in a coffin desiccated, chained it, and buried it somewhere in the outskirts of Mexico near the United States border, where Carmen has remained for almost 400 years.

______________________________________PERSONALITY/TRAITS

Vampirism taught her boldness and brazenness, but Carmen had always been the passionate kind. Always a woman who looks at opportunity and is ready to hold onto it no matter the cost. Time without consequence had only heightened those emotions, making Carmen a little dramatic and uptight. However, after being desiccated and buried in a coffin for centuries, she’s had trouble holding tightly to her emotions. Bound to be temperamental, Carmen means well, and doesn’t quite believe that vampirism is what chips away at someone’s humanity, but its the choices someone makes and how they live their life that poisons their heart.

DETAILS

STATUS: Taken

Related bios: Cristiana Rivero, Angelina Zavala, Wren Moreira

Species/Family info: Vampire

Faceclaim: Claudia Martin

laurie-p

Bloodline - Run

“And all my life I’ve been burdened by the dreams I’ve had Now I want to run.”

#reblogging becuase i forgot to put this on the main apge 8 years ago

JORDAN BECKER // 23 // HOLISTIC WITCH

❝ Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine ❞

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BIOGRAPHY

Growing up, Jordan had a relatively easy life, besides the typical trials and tribulations of a liberal teenager growing up in a very not liberal house. Her parents, Isabelle and Griffin Becker, brought her up as if she was a human, despite being born from a long line of witches themselves. They were high-school sweethearts, bonding over their affinity for all things magic. Once they’d ventured off to community college together, they had a nasty run-in with another group of witches and their bonded wolf familiars. It was a simple misunderstanding but it ended up being far too dangerous than they would have liked. It struck fear in them– and soon after, when Isabelle found out she was pregnant with her first and only child, they both vowed to move across the country from Seattle, Washington to the small town of Clarksville, Virginia.

With such an important aspect of her identity hidden from her by her parents, Jordan felt like something was missing from her life. The void was less obvious when she was a child but as she grew into adolescence, the void grew more noticeable than ever. She engaged in everything she could to fill the emptiness– everything from sports to the kind of reckless behavior a teenager had no business sticking her nose in. Nothing worked and it wasn’t like she could seek guidance from her parents, given their estranged nature, nor did she have cousins or extended family. As far as they were concerned, Jordan’s parents had spun the story of them being ousted from the family for having Jordan so young.

And she believed it.

Once she’d graduated, she chose to run away. She didn’t particularly have a destination in mind, but she knew she wouldn’t find what she was looking for in Virginia. She spent years traveling, sight-seeing and couch surfing–all the things a free spirited young person might ever want to do on the road. It wasn’t until she got to Philadelphia, PA, 6 years later, that she settled down a little. As she explored her new home, becoming more familiar with the city, she came across a small, kitschy palm reading shop. There was a supposed “psychic”, Calliope, who could tell all by the touch of her hand and a glance into her crystal ball. One thing led to another and Jordan was introduced into what she’d been missing all along– magic.

Jordan spent a few months under her tutelage, learning everything she could about witchcraft. All of that crumbled to the ground when hunters found them. Jordan, only having vague knowledge of offensive magic, wasn’t able to defend herself or her mentor, who she’d grown to care about immensely. She was like family. The hunters tore Calliope’s shop apart and murdered her. Jordan was the sole witness of the gruesome event and managed to escape while their focus was on her. Since then, a deep seated fear has taken root in her. She wasn’t ready to die.

With no one else to look for guidance from or rely upon, she could only guess about what other horrors her parents hid from her and why they insisted on running from their ancestry. Luckily, Calliope had briefly spoken to her about Carden Manor. About how it was a conglomerate of covens seeking to protect each other. And although Jordan never saw herself as the type of person to desire ( let alone need ) a coven or family, she made the decision to head there. Not only could she seek asylum, but maybe she can learn a thing or two. .

______________________________________PERSONALITY/TRAITS

Wild and carefree, Jordan tends to stay away from rules unless they serve her, specifically. Over the span of her life, she’s grown accustomed to being on her own. She doesn’t necessarily mind it but it has made her selfish in some ways. She’s never had to truly care for another person, other than Calliope. Despite this, she is quite social. She tends to carry herself in a way that draws attention and friends; however they’ve always been at a surface level– something she’s also always been content with. At the end of the day, she’s in it for herself and will weasel herself in and out of situations as she sees fit and typically, without real remorse.

DETAILS

STATUS: TAKEN

Related bios: N/A

Species/Family info: Holistic Witch

Faceclaim: Penelope Mitchell

#taken #jordan #p i'm losing my shit at this lyric choiceasdkfjasd

CODIE MOHREN // 21 // WEREWOLF

❝ They say it's all in meditation but when I sit still, I'm afraid what I'll find❞

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BIOGRAPHY

The Mohren family wasn’t one that held themselves to conventional belief systems. They and a handful of other families formed a pack based on their similarities. Life for them was more spirituality based, taking the time to be with nature and magic and to reject the outside world lest they corrupt the younger minds among them. The pack moved to keep themselves safe, building up shelters and structures that would last a few months at a time, then taking it all down and leaving little trace as to their presence. The Mohrens were a recent addition to this pack, but they adopted the pacifist lifestyle easily, as they had been passing that down through generations long before joining.

As Codie grew up, she fell into the lifestyle easily. She wasn’t one to shy away from getting her hands dirty, and that usually meant helping with building or gathering for food. A few of her friends and cousins often spoke up about getting out there and protecting the magic that the witches held but they were often hushed quickly and put down for speaking up against the way of life. Her father would often tell her stories of the outside world and how it corrupted the nature of the wolf. It only raised more questions for her when he wouldn’t go into detail about the corruption itself.

When the hunting started, they began to move around more. They no longer felt safe staying in one place for months at a time, and it was a constant rotation of safe zones. This time when her father spoke of the outside world, it was only for him to tell her that it would pass in time. That magic would win, as it always would, and they would be able to return to their former lives. Some of the others who spoke out grew restless with the inaction, and one night an entire group of them – much more than Codie realized supported the dissent – made a scene. They proclaimed that the pack were the ones that were weak, not the ones dying for what they were created for.

Again, Codie had questions. None of which were answered when she cornered both her father and mother after the younger wolves had departed. They spoke in half-truths and wouldn’t meet her eye. Angry with them, she proclaimed that maybe she should have left with the others– though she had no desire to fight at all, that thread of belief still remained tied to her soul.

The uncomfortable silence and reflection that had fallen over the camp after the sudden departure of their most able only lasted for three days. On the third night, they were woken up by a piercing scream– They had found one of the bodies of the people who had left them. They were riddled with bullets, a sure sign of human foul play. Another day passed, another body. It went on and on, no matter how far they moved, another body would show. And Codie knew it before her father told her– they were being hunted and staying out of it was never going to be the right solution. Of course, her father wouldn’t admit that. Wouldn’t even look her in the eye when she confronted him, yelling at him and questioning every pacifist belief they’d ever held. She knew they were right, even if they were doing it for the wrong reasons, she spat the words at him. The wolves had to do something, even if it wasn’t fighting back.

So she left, with determination in her eyes. It took her a few months of trying to get information on where exactly she could go, since none of the pack and none of her immediate family would tell her anything– other than to beg her to stay, but she eventually found herself on the doorstep of Carden Manor, ready to put herself where she felt she was meant to be.

______________________________________PERSONALITY/TRAITS

While Codie is a pacifist, she’s not afraid to step in when something goes downhill. She’d much rather use her body as a shield than a weapon, and doesn’t mind what might be thrown her way. Despite being true to her beliefs, she’s also open to questioning them and questioning others. Because of her sheltered past, she has a hunger for experiences and knowledge that she would prefer come from other people and conversation, rather than out of books and articles. She has a sense of wide-eyed wonder about her that can easily be misconstrued as innocence and weakness, and in the right cases, she can use that to her advantage. In her time alone, she honed that skill to get more information out of people that wouldn’t normally tell anyone anything. Protection is high on her list of priorities, whether it be protecting the lands, magic, witches, or her own family, who she hopes are still alive despite her leaving in a fit of anger.

DETAILS

STATUS: TAKEN

Related bios: n/a

Species/Family info: Vampire

Faceclaim: Kaylee Bryant

#taken #codie

THOMAS WIELAND // 300-400 // VAMPIRE

❝ you know better babe, than to talk to it like that ❞

______________________________________________________

BIOGRAPHY

Coming of age among the devoutly Catholic villagers of Warwickshire, Thomas learned that any sin could be forgiven; for a price. His father, his six older brothers, the butcher with his thumb on the scale, the priests skimming money off the top of every collection, his mother tangled in a nobleman’s bedsheets - they could all be absolved, if they simply had enough money and power to pay the price asked of them. And indulgences didn’t just happen inside the walls of the church.

When he didn’t fill out quite like his behemoth brothers, he was allowed to forgo work on the farm. They sent him to trade at local markets and docks, betting on his charm to secure a better deal. Just like he was taught, he couldn’t fathom paying as he went when he could rack up a large karmic debt to work off later, after he had escaped the daily torture of menial labor. Always so deliberate and careful with his words, it was easy to persuade people out of their books and pamphlets when he couldn’t steal, scam, or borrow outright. Within a year, he had skimmed enough money off the top of his family’s profits to rent a by-the-week flat in London.

Swayed by the intuitive magic of language, he once hoped to be a lawyer, to go to battle with nothing but his wits to arm him. Yet despite his best intentions, new and tantalizing distractions would always come along to lead him away from his studies. He loved memorizing the lilt of a traveler’s accent, learning the grooves of an obscure instrument, visiting local theaters, and eventually he started to crave the power of a room’s full attention. Being onstage, he felt truly at home in his skin for the first time. The love between audience and actor was easy to understand. Men and women alike were so fond of him, much like one would be fond of a very loyal sheep dog or an exceptionally painted piece of art.

On a searing July night, his troupe performed in the open air to a drunken crowd of half-clothed nobility. The red sandstone castle hosted a nineteen night summer affair for Elizabeth I filled with pageants, plays, music, orgies, and dances. On the second night, Thomas spotted a man and woman in the crowd and couldn’t look away, momentarily fumbling a turn of phrase. He felt the weight of their gaze in every movement for the rest of the night, heavy and wicked and tinged with anticipation. By night four, he had struck up the nerve to approach. He was dead by night seven.

______________________________________PERSONALITY/TRAITS

Frozen in time like the work of art he has always felt he is, Thomas sees being turned as the ultimate gift, and he honors it to the best of his ability. He is supremely respectful of the hierarchy, never willingly violating a direct order. Nico gave him unlimited time, hedonistic pleasure, material wealth, family, but also the gift of truly knowing himself. Only under his sire’s coaxing did his flair for the dramatic and darker tendencies truly flourish. He still loves putting on a good show. In prey, nothing tastes better than lust, a reminder that he is still fiercely wanted. He is fascinated by every creature he meets, literal snowflakes, never the same pattern repeated. Yet they would all melt in the sun sooner or later; getting crushed beneath the heel before their natural end wasn’t so bad.

DETAILS

STATUS: TAKEN

Related bios: Nicholaus de More, Cristiana Rivero

Species/Family info: Vampire

Faceclaim: Gavin Leatherwood

#taken #thomas

Congrats, Parker! We’ve accepted your application for your OC, Thomas Wieland. Please make your account and send it to an admin!

Congrats, King we’ve accepted your application for your OC, Codie Mohren. Please send your account to an admin ASAP.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIZ!!! Bloodline would not be here without your incredible characters and constant support. You’re the best co-admin in the universe. Thank you for everything you do for me, for the game, for writing lore i’m bad at writing, for your army of blondes, and knowing when it’s appropriate to pull out fall out boy song lyrics. You’re the best.

-- JJ

#I WANTED TO PUT DERRICK ON THIS #BUT FOR SPACING IT DIDN'T WORK

PLOT DROP; SILAS’S FEAR SPELL

Early this morning, Silas cast a spell across the manor Based on a combination of empathy magic and vampire compulsion, he filled the air with something that causes hallucinations. Past that, he’s using his empathy and other magic to evoke fear, insecurity, and paranoia among the manor.

What this means: Over the course of the next few days, your characters will experience VERY REAL hallucinations. These are not dream-like sequences that are eerie or symbolic. They are actual real and grounded manifestations of things your characters are afraid of both from their past, and afraid could happen in the future. It could be a loved one dying, a past failure, a deep insecurity coming to light, etc.

Who it effects: EVERYONE in the manor except for the Vampires and Original Witches. (Immortal witches who are original will experience a less potent effect.)

How to interact: Go fucking nuts. Feel free to use this to prompt gif chat starters with open-ended direction. Feel free to use it to plot amongst yourselves or decide how this will effect your character. Feel free to use it to write a solo thread if you want to. The spell will last for a few days in canon so that everyone has time to utilize it in multiple different ways.

The hallucinations do not have to be 100% constant. Your characters can still be lucid and communicate, and may become aware eventually that clearly something is wrong in the manor. But that will not change how real what they’re seeing is.

You may still reply to threads and starters from yesterday. They will be set before this spell happened.

If you have questions, please let us know.

Congratulations, P! We’ve accepted your application for your OC, Jordan Becker. Please send in your blog as soon as you can! Welcome to Bloodline!

SERAYA CAIN // 22 // WEREWOLF

❝ You could cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in and if you do not want to see me again, I would understand.❞

______________________________________________ BIOGRAPHY

Seraya Cain has only known heavy-handed and short-lived maternal love. Seraya was born to one of the Deveraux Pack wolves, a foot soldier and no one of real rank or importance. Her parentage was always explained to be inconsequential to understanding her role in the hierarchy of power within the dynamic of the pack and the overall political factions. Seraya asked her mother about her father only once but was chastised for her curiosity into a matter that she didn’t deem relevant for her daughter to know. She never asked again for fear of disapproval or angering her mother but Seraya also learned it didn’t particularly matter. She knew she was a wolf and she knew the role she existed to serve made it easier to keep thing clearly defined in black and white. Sentimentality and feelings existed in the gray area between and Seraya never wasted her time on trivial things when she could be training to become stronger, faster and more lethal to rise in the ranks. Her mother died when she was young, leaving her to be raised at the mercy of the regimented pack but like her mother she was an ideal soldier even from an early age. She took orders without question, kept her mouth shut and understood the necessity and importance of sacrifice in the line of duty.

During her late teenage years is when Seraya’s personality began to shift and diverge from the complicit and obedient sentry she once was. She was flippant and outright disrespectful to her superiors, garnering more disciplinary action and punishment than ever before and she was fueled by one of the many uncontrollable emotions she’d always repressed: rage. Seraya was angry; all of the time. She was often irritable and short-tempered, finding more and more reason to keep to herself than actively take part in the pack but Seraya was a storm of conflicted emotions waging war within someone who’d never been taught that feelings didn’t make you weak. Seraya lacked the emotional depth or maturity to understand her own feelings or sexuality, made only worse by werewolf genes and rampant teenage hormones. She’d developed feelings for someone, an attachment she’d never understood in regards to anyone apart from being told what to do but made worse by the fact that it was an Original Witch who’d become the object of her misplaced affection.

Seraya had been raised with the understanding that her existence was somehow worth less, she wasn’t a person allowed to entertain romantic notions or feelings and those were reserved only for classes above her but how could she ignore what felt so visceral and real? She began to question the blind subservience and code she’d always lived by, finding a new sense of pride in who she was and what she was and bucking the system that she was somehow beneath the object of her feelings. It was a stupid mistake, to profess her unrequited feelings to someone who not only didn’t feel the same way in return but refused to feel anything for her simply because she was a wolf. The unbridled rage in Seraya had been unleashed that night and she’d vowed to leave the pack, exact her revenge and do whatever it took to get back at the witch who’d rejected her and ultimately shattered her fledgling heart.

Seraya left when she was only fifteen, but the weight of the choices she made in retaliation have haunted her ever since. She was the reason locations of witches were compromised, she was the reason for hunters finding and slaughtering witches mercilessly as if somehow the bloodshed would salve her untended wounds. Seraya became a lone wolf, long since rejecting any ideal of pack or family, she doesn’t even begin to know what either of those really mean. The loneliness she felt became her constant companion, a penance for the lives she was responsible for and failing in her duty as a wolf sworn to protect the lives of the witches she’d given up for the slaughter. It didn’t matter where she tried to run, the guilt was always faster and is how she’s now found her way back to Carden Manor.

Seraya claims she’s returned only out of necessity, self-preservation and looking out for her safety the only reason she seeks asylum but secretly it’s her mission to atone for the deaths of the witches she was responsible for. She was a child who made an egregious error but she’s never forgiven herself for what she did out of hurt and anger born of her confusion in her personal and sexual identity. Seraya has been alone for a while now and adapting back into the ranks of the pack and learning to trust others to any degree is exceedingly difficult to force herself back into the dutiful role she no longer believes in. Her drive to protect what’s left of the witches is stronger than ever before but makes her a lot more reckless and dangerous when it comes to her own safety.

______________________________________________ PERSONALITY/TRAITS

Despite being born a werewolf into a pack, there’s something about Seraya’s nature that was born as The Loner. The lone wolf roams the wild with a thirst for freedom and it was a drive she never understood when she was younger until tumultuous emotions boiled over causing her to seek vengeance against witches by murder. Lone wolves tend to be more aggressive and far more dangerous than the average wolf that is a member of a pack and there’s always been a free radical variable about Seraya’s character that can’t be trusted or pinned down.

She always tries to remain aloof and emotionally unable to interact with others, but mostly because she’s never developed the skills or tools to cope in emotional settings. She runs on logical and tactical default, the only emotion she usually understands is anger and the drive for bloodlust for sake of eliminating a target or protecting an objective.

Loyalty and respect aren’t easily earned, rarely does Seraya think highly of others because her nature is secretive and distrustful of anyone else when the only time she ever ventured into trusting someone ended catastrophically. It’s easier for Seraya to rely only on herself, her anger and loneliness her companion in lieu of a pack because she’s resentful of the pack she was raised in and resents the person they tried to make her become. Seraya can be quick-tempered and stubborn though she’s only slightly less destructive than her formative years. Seraya’s main form of communication apart from violence is sarcasm and it’s one of the intentional protective measures instilled at her core to keep everyone at arm’s length. She’s at the Manor to provide a service, to pay a debt and she’s biding her time until it’s squared and she’s set to cut and run…again.

DETAILS

STATUS: TAKEN

Related bios: None

Species/Family info: Werewolf

Faceclaim: Tristin Mays

#taken

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑

The clock strikes midnight in a room unoccupied, where a grand piano has been sitting for the purpose of fancy gatherings and parties with royal champagne and drunk attendees. Its THE BALL ROOM, but stripped of tables, and staff members, and in the distance someone is playing the keys like a true virtuoso, Bach’s TOCCATA AND FUGUE IN D MINOR, with the intention to wake every resident of the manor from their slumber and attract the attention of the wolves who are not standing guard duty.

On top of the Piano sits a CUP FULL OF BLOOD, with droplets dripping from its edges, onto the antique instrument. On the edge stands one of Carden Manor’s very own cooking staff, his hand hovering over the glass cup while it bleeds until it overflows and on the ground, somewhere by the entrance of the ball room, CELESTINA BLACK’S SEVERED HEAD, her lifeless body next to the piano bench where NICHOLAUS DE MORE sits, pleasantly enjoying the sound of the piano, calm and collected, despite the affluence of blood on his hands.

Meanwhile, in the basement, a woman takes the stairs with surprising amount of patience, SABINA NUVELL holding BRIGID DEVEREAUX’S HEART in her right hand. Brigid’s body lays behind the broken bars of her cell with a hole in her chest, a mercy killing in the eyes of Carden Manor’s hostile takeover, and a trail of bloody boot prints leading up to the first floor.

They did not come alone, though The Devereaux coven have provided the manor with an army of werewolves and witches trained in battle, they are no match to their foes, and another THREE VAMPIRES remain scattered around the manor, looking to cause nothing but trouble, and claim what is rightfully theirs, and who have KNOCKED OUT the three wolves standing guard with a magical sedative: ISA, RONAN, and PEYTON.

Somewhere on the third floor, THIERRY ASTOR sleeps without a solitary clue of what is happening right below her.

NOTE: ( As your characters wake up, they may encounter any or all of these vampires around the manor and as everyone gathers towards the ball room, NICHOLAUS DE MORE makes an announcement ... )

#bloodline admin

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