Disclaimer: This is a character blog associated with bloodngloryhq. Trigger warnings include alcohol & drug abuse, weapon use, violence and NSFW content.
A formal event like this was second nature to Iara, as familiar as repairing the engine on her motorcycle. She glided through the room with effortless elegance, blending seamlessly with the city's elite. While she usually remained composed and confident in such settings, she couldn't help but worry about how the rest of her group would be perceived. After all, a motorcycle club wasn’t exactly what one envisioned in the midst of grandeur. "Are you holding up?" she asked her leader nonchalantly. "No one's causing trouble, right? Because I know a few subtle ways to wreck everything without us getting kicked out."
adjusting the tie around his neck before sebastian slipped his palm into the depths of his pant pocket as he surveyed the crowd before him. he hadn't been this dressed up since court. he wore a classic black suit with black tie, his hair slicked back and cleanly shaven face. his sergeant in arms was far more accustomed to parties such as this so the group were taking their cues from her. as she came to stand next to sebastian, his eyes flickered to her before returning to the crowd. "lara." he nodded his acknowledgement. "i wish there was more trouble, honestly. im bored." sebastian smirked as he stiffled a yawn with this sleeve, eyeing the brunette out of the corner of his eyes. "forgot how well you scrub up. do i pass?" he questioned, turning his body towards her and holding his arms out to show himself off.
ava grace harland had mastered the art of effortless composure. she stood at the top of the marble staircase, champagne flute poised between two fingers, lips curved into the perfect approximation of a smile. below, los angeles’ elite swayed beneath chandeliers the size of automobiles, draped in silk, diamonds, and borrowed influence. the air hummed with whispered negotiations masked as pleasantries, power exchanged in the flick of a wrist, the arch of a brow. she descended the stairs slowly, aware of the eyes that followed. she was used to that — being watched, being assessed, being measured against the weight of her last name & her political rank. but tonight, she wasn’t just asa harland jr’s daughter. tonight, she was his heir.
the strings of the orchestra swelled, a haunting melody that threaded through the air like smoke. across the room, the barone patriarch held court, his laughter ringing over the din of conversation. beside him, castro men whispered among themselves, de la cruz heirs watching with unreadable expressions. the family had united, yes, but old grudges never truly died. ava turned her attention back to the person in front of her, someone who had caught her eye earlier on. her gaze was steady. she smiled—slow, deliberate. “who do you think will give the most tonight... will it be you? anything caught your eye?” and just like that, the game began. @bloodnglorystart
the point of sebastian's attendance at this stupid event was simple. to observe. to take note. to put away bits of information in his memory bank. if he could cause a little chaos that could be fun too. but only if said chaos didn't backfire on him or the club. the male's eyes scanned the ballroom the crowd stood. he was dressed appropriately for the event. he did not want to stick out like a sore thumb in his club kit and dirty fingernails. so he showered, shaved and wore the only suit he owned. sebastian even had to borrow a tie from a one of the brothers to complete the ensemble. he felt ridiculous but couldn't argue that he looked good. the last time he'd looked remotely this good was for court before he was sent to prison. now the president of the outlaws mc stood with his back against pressed against a marble wall towards the back where he wouldn't be immediately noticed by the crowd. a glass grasped in his hand full of ice cubes and an amber liquid. the alcohol was needed to help get him through the next few hours.
sebastian had noticed the blonde. he watched as she stood at the top of the stairs and continued to watch as she descended into the crowd. he hadn't expected her to approach him or even speak with him. he knew exactly who she was. it was hard from a harland to go through this town anonymously. so the male was taken slight off guard with her approach and by the words spoken in his directly. however, it was but a second before sebastian's usual mask of charm and arrogance fell into place. a smirk turning up at the corners of his lips. 'i don't give anything, darling. certainly not to this lot." he gestured around at the crowd. his sworn enemies. "plenty has caught my eye and something is brewing. how about you, trouble? what's your thoughts of this lovely evening?"
Anya was beyond excited to be at the Manor of Hope Gala—it was the event of the year. Everyone who mattered would be there, and it was the perfect chance to play the part of a rich, high-society socialite. Not that she was short on funds, but there was something undeniably fun about stepping into that world for the night. "Has anything caught your eye?" she asked a nearby guest. The art section was beautiful, even if she wasn’t an expert on the subject.
Thinking he would blend in with the rest of the evenings patrons, sebastian didn't expect to be spoken to. he was dressed in his best, he had showered and shaved. he looked like he belonged. so no one should be speaking to him, especially someone he hadn't come across before. these people usually stuck to their own kind. not this woman. "plenty has caught my eye, love. but not the art. do i look like an art man?"
who: open ( @bloodnglorystart )
where: manor of hope gala
Santino knew this house like the back of his hand. He might not have grown up in this particular Barone estate, but he’d spent enough time in places just like it—grand, excessive, designed to impress. That meant he knew exactly where to linger, when to smile, and how to make it look effortless, even when he wanted to be anywhere else. Crystal chandeliers bathed the ballroom in warm light, casting soft glows over silk gowns and pressed suits. The string quartet played something elegant and forgettable, underscoring the hum of polite conversation and thinly veiled posturing.
Santino adjusted his cuff, fingers smoothing over the fine fabric of his suit. Not his event, but he still found himself in the familiar role of ensuring things ran smoothly. Guests needed wrangling, conversations needed steering, and it never hurt to be aware of where certain people were at all times—especially in a room full of high society, law enforcement, and criminals all pretending to play nice. Standing near the bar, he let his gaze drift across the room, scanning the crowd. Someone was bound to make things interesting sooner or later. Lifting his glass to his lips, his eyes settled on the nearest person. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you."
this night was already exhausting him. he was bored. nothing exciting was happening. no one was threatening anyone else. no one had thrown any punches. it was a shame really. the guaranteed entertainment had failed. so the bar was his next best bet. he approached at a casual stroll so not to draw attention to himself. once he had arrived at the hard top bar, he lent in and over - visually sorting the array of alcohol on offer. with his mind quickly made up, sebastian's next movements were quick and swift. he reached over the bar and took one of the expensive looking bottles of whiskey. It was only once he had the bottle tucked under his arm that the other's voice reached his ear.
"and who are you to tell me what is and isn't something I would do?
sebastian questioned, slight annoyance tainting his voice.
full name: sebastian beaumont
nickname(s): bastian, blue, etc
birthday: may 22nd
age: thirty eight
gender: cis-male
sexuality: heterosexual
occupation: leader of the outlaws mc
education: high school diploma (barely)
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:
hair colour: blonde
eye colour: blue
height: 6 foot
tattoos/piercings: sebastian is covered in tattoos; there's barely any room for anything new
scars: sebastian has a three-inch scar on his abdomen from being stabbed in prison, and he has a small scar on his arm from a graze from a bullet
birthmarks: none
PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOURS:
strengths: reliable, observant & charming
weaknesses: arrogant, inflexible & guarded
quirks: sebastian has difficulty sitting with his own thoughts, he wears a ring on his right thumb and he’ll often be seen fiddling with it in order to distract himself
vices: when heavily stressed, sebastian is known to turn to his father’s old stash of cigars for comfort
interests/hobbies: sebastian doesn't really have time for hobbies, but he does like girls. girls of all different shapes and sizes.
HISTORY:
Sebastian was raised with the knowledge that he would one day become an important member of the motorcycle club. Maybe even a leader, perhaps even the president of the Outlaws Motorcycle Club. He was a legacy. His father was the president before him for years before his death. Sebastian was raised with expectations and pressures of a future in the Outlaws MC. He couldn't let his father down. Such pressure that he almost thought he couldn't handle it. Instead of airing his concerns with his father or his uncles, he decided it was better to keep his feelings bottled up. So as a kid he acted up, as a teenager he rebelled and then completely went off the rails as a young adult. He disappointed his father time and time gain so much so that he wasn't even ashamed of it anymore. There was no where on the horizon that anyone could see Sebastian ever taking over as president. He'd lost the respect of the club.
In his mid-twenties, he was caught and sentenced with a low level drug offense which resulted in a short stint in prison. This was what changed everything. It was the true turning point for Sebastian and his attitude. Prison gave him the structure he'd been missing. It gave him routine. Then something happened. A fellow inmate died in custody. Sebastian's friend. Someone he respected. This turned everything around for him. Sebastian wouldn't just die in prison. He would get out and he would make something of himself. He would prove that he was leadership material. It cleaned him up and most of all, Sebastian would say it made him a better man.
Once he got out of prison, he did what he could to prove himself. To his father. To his brothers. To the club. It took half a decade and his blood and sweat to show who he was as a person and as a leader. When Sebastian was in his mid-thirties, his father died suddenly. A tragedy that left the club vulnerable and without a leader. A figurehead. It was time to vote. There was no question from the club. Sebastian won easily. The vote was unanimous. He would be the next President of the Outlaws MC. Nowadays, Sebastian's biggest motivation is to keep the Outlaws heads above water. To keep them off the radar of law enforcement and not drawing too much attention from other gangs.
HEAD CANONS: (tw: mental illness - depression, drug & alcohol use, weapon use and violence)
due to being so observant, sebastian tends to see and hear things others miss. he holds many of the cities secrets without them even knowing it.
sebastian struggled with depression a lot when he was growing up. he hasn't had a a bout of depression since his father died but there is always the threat of the darkness taking over him any day.
sebastian is able to speak fluent italian, taking quite a liking to it in high school and picked up a bit of spanish while in prison. italian was his mother's idea, thinking it was a romantic language. sebastian would do anything for his mother. the spanish, well that will surely come in handy at some point.
sebastian's biker nickname, is Blue. As in blue balls because he was made to wait to become the prez. Only after his father's death was his leadership role obtained.
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