"she wore her smile like a loaded gun." diana sinclair | 34 | o'sheas | general | art thief only a certain kind of woman wears a backless dress with a beretta 70 strapped to her thigh. var sc_project=12115025; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_security="64e953b2";
WITH a heavy exhale he took another sip from the whiskey. It was like a game of cat and mouse, no one wanted to lose. Her entire presence caused his body to stiffen as if ready for a fight. In fact Thomas had been more relaxed in fights than he was around the female that sat next to him. It was the sensation of never knowing what was going to happen next. He took pride in the fact that he could read a room in a second, but with her his instincts were completely thrown off - something that made him uneasy.Â
As painful as they were, the words she spoke were expected. His grip around his glass tightened, almost breaking it before he let go. The memory of his ex lover, who died before he could even wed her brought a lot of suffering to Thomasâ life. It was followed by the loss of his child, who he still hadnât seen. â She was never my wife, sweetheart. â A painful reminder, but an important one. His eyes became dull for a few moments, almost showing a sense of sadness.Â
He let his eyes roll to show his complete disgust with her. The only thing he was possessive over was money. â Youâre always wasting your time with me. â It was partially true, they were born to hate each other, every interaction they had was a waste of time in Thomasâ mind, but he just couldnât stay away. â If you cared all that much, you wouldnât have stayed this long. And Iâm not sure when Iâm leaving. â No matter how close they got, he was never going to reveal too much to her.Â
âOh, come on baby, relax.â, the words had a mischievous edge to them, after all, Diana had always had a way of speaking that meant something she said was never just that, never as simple as it appeared to be. âIâm just playing. Donât tell me youâre losing your edge as years go by?â, she let out a soft chuckle, âNow that would be such a shame.â Truth be told, she found comfort in these little acts - it was like an armour of saccharine words and sly smiles and vague movements of her body. And one had to have an armour when playing against a man as dangerous as Thomas was.Â
âOh well, marriageâs overrated.â, it wasnât really. She could still remember the way she felt that day - top of the world, high on power and infatuation, it felt like there was no end in sight. They were going to watch the world burn together, and the match had just been lit, the air quivering with promises of disasters to come. She stared at the glowing red tip of her cigarette, eyes cold and distant, and even the sound of her chuckle grew glacial and detached, âOh well, weâll always have alcohol and guns, thatâll have to do.â
âNo need to be so fatalistic dear.â, it wasnât like Diana ever had any illusions about what this was exactly - a thing of hatred and anger and everything dark that resided in her soul, manifesting itself in violent, unrestrained ways - but that hardly made it any less fun. âI prefer to think of it as an investment. Helps with the focus.â Nothing like hate-fucking your way out of pent-up anger. âYouâre right, lifeâs a lot easier when you care about so little. Besides, who even knows what my motives are?â, she finished her drink, âYou sound like a homesick man, so Iâm thinking weâll see about that.âÂ
The cool crystal glass kept emptying quicker than heâd wanted, brows furrowing in time as he looked down with a pout of his bottom lip. How many was that now? Had he lost count? The room hadnât yet started shifting, and he hadnât managed to start any fights as of yet. So it couldnât have been that bad, right? The glass was always filled with his favorite; Macallan Whiskey. It wasnât an acquired taste like most hued liquids that passed the lips in this place. It was a whiskey that turned heads, tasted like heaven with each sip and something he couldnât live without.
Laurence took a brief second to peer down, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Heâd held itâs place in his large hand for some time as the dimmed music seemingly brushed along in the distance. His feet had took him in a different direction, knowing that the party was becoming too raucous for his taste on this particular evening. Laurence had managed to find peace at last; a cool breeze could be felt against his skin, shuddering for just a second before he settled his eyes on the view before him. It was a beauty; he thought for a moment before the sinister laughter fell from him so easily.Â
ââPainted in red. It would look so much better.ââ He muttered to himself, almost inaudible. Heâd need another drink soon, he noted with a nod of his head. He didnât see them, but he heard the shuffling behind his back; the city lights spread across before them as he smiled.Â
ââYouâd be a crappy assassin.ââ He added with a shrug of his shoulders. ââI could hear you minutes before you even got here. I could also smell you.ââ He smirked; a talent that he hoped he never lost, it was a distinguishing feature, wasnât it? The smell of someone.
He finally turned around with his hands held out either side of him.
She was thankful for the anonymity the crowd offered as she slipped between bodies heated from conversation and dancing and outrageous flirting, keeping her head low so that locks of her hair would shield her face from any curious glances. She adapted this newfound anonymity with the intention of slipping through the cracks and lighting a cigarette outside, blissfully devoid of mindless chatter or some pretty young thing whispering stupid shit into her ear.Â
But to be entirely truthful, it was in the grandeur and the opulence that Diana usually found herself really thriving. She had never been one to shy away from the attention she attracted - first as the golden child, side by side with her twin, and later on as Victorâs wife, cutthroat and charming. She was born into the world that was built on a society such as this one - on parties and murder and soft-spoken threats uttered over glasses of expensive whiskey, and things that made someone else nervous, fed into her sense of excitement instead, reminded her of where she came from. But really, when did the music stop being music and turned into... whatever that was. She really needed that smoke.Â
âOne day Hasgard, youâre going to choke on that ego of yours.â, she chuckled with the ease of a woman who was hardly affected by the words, closing the doors behind her as she let the cool air wash over her skin, âAnd darling, even then Iâll still be your superior.â An amused smile was tethering in the corners of her lips as she finally moved across the balcony, a case of black Sobranie in her hand - after all, if one had to destroy themselves, Diana was a firm believer in doing it with style. Expensive style. âWould you stop smelling me? Itâs Chanel 5, not that uncommon even in this god-forsaken city.â It wasnât that she disliked Chicago, au contraire, but she did think spilling blood in Paris had a better ring to it, it certainly was more fashionable. She leaned against the cold railing, turning her head to look at him and raising her eyebrow, amused, âWhatâs with the theatrics tonight mon cher? Donât tell me youâre losing your edge, and I was just getting intrigued.â
THERE were very few things in the world that irritated Thomas, he had trained himself to be in complete control of his emotions at all times. But there werenât that many emotions to begin with. He started off just like any normal man, but the longer he was in the industry, the more it slowly chipped away at whatever normal emotions he had left. There wasnât time for emotion, time for anger or pain, but when it came to Diana, there was certainly something there.Â
It was as if every word she spoke were harsh daggers, piercing his skin at breath. â I wouldnât be getting ahead of myself, if I were you â he replied, an exhale clouded with grey smoke. A ghost of a smirk perched itself on his slightly chapped lips, â It isnât the thoughts that are dangerous, itâs you. â In his eyes, she was a concoction of a poisonous drug, that he just couldnât get away from.
â Iâm sorry I didnât end up like your husbands â he replied through gritted teeth, her presence becoming more and more intoxicating, but not in the good way. Thomas had chosen the Devilâs path a long time ago, and he was the biggest sinner of them all. Maybe that was why he could never tear himself away from her. Almost instantly, his hand reached for herâs, gripping incredibly tightly, but that was intent of course, he pushed it away. â And I know, thereâs no other man you love to loathe more than me. â
He smirked. It was a weak twitch in the corners of his lips that only required minimal work of muscles, and that wouldâve gone unnoticed had anyone else been sitting across the table from him - but Diana wasnât anyone else, and sheâd been paying attention. A languid, feline smile stretched across her lips at his words, âYou flatter me. Thatâs not fair, you know how vain I can be.â And for once, she was telling the truth - after all, sheâd designed herself to be dangerous, to look dangerous - all sharp lines, and clean-cut dresses and a red lipstick.Â
If his words did leave her unnerved, she tried not to show it, choosing instead to not allow her emotions to control her, because this was a game, and she was awful at losing. Only emotion that might have sneaked through her iron clad defences was the slight vexation, a certain bitter aftertaste those memories inevitably entailed. The tip of her cigarette burned brightly when she took a drag, and the smoke was stark against her lips as she chuckled, âWhat, like your wife?â, a low blow, but in her defence, he was the first to pull the trigger, âBesides, it was just the one. The other one I fucked because I liked it when he played rough.â That wasnât entirely true, but she knew well itâd do wonders for his imagination.Â
When heâd grabbed her hand, the fine bones grinding against each other and stark pain shooting up her arm, she let out a soft sound, something between an exhale and a breathy chuckle. Really, she shouldâve reconsidered why she liked the pain so much. âAh you boys, always so damn possessive.â. The distance between them yawned in sudden, dizzying space, inviting and promising trouble - and then he let go. Diana shifted in her spot to reach for the alcohol, mostly just to get away and clear her thoughts before she did something stupid again, âSo tell me darling, you back for good, or am I wasting my time here?â
     HE TAKES THE HANDKERCHIEF & presses it against his nose to stop the bleeding. his eyes look to the dead corpse before they revert back to her.   â i was getting the job done, didnât think about my surroundings. â   he says as he steps right over the body & follows her silently. he may be sloppy at his work, but at least he gets it done.   â am i going to get paid for this or am i in trouble ? â   he asks tossing the handkerchief to the ground.Â
âWell... An interesting method thatâs for sure. But I guess you do seem rather young.â, she threw one last look at the corpse, then decided moving or hiding it was worth neither the effort nor the trouble of ruining her dress. âSure, but thatâs just because I like your style kid - you donât seem the squeamish type.â, as they were headed down a dark alley, Diana reached into her purse for the money, handing him the cash as she lit a cigarette, âArenât you supposed to be out there pushing product, or is this just a new hobby? I donât remember training you, did you work with another general?â
HIS body recognised the voice before he did, he shuddered in response, immediately feeling an uneasiness settling in his stomach. If there was one person whom he loved to hate, it was her. He almost found it amusing that the one person he really didnât want to see just happened to be in the same bar as him, at the same time. It was as if God was laughing down at him, more than he already had been. Not that Thomas would believe in such a thing. He had played with death too many times to believe in such a thing.
Thomasâ gaze now moved to settle on her. It was as if she was a siren, calling him out to sea, a temptress of sorts. A stern look crossed his features as he stared harshly at her. He took a much needed sip from his drink, taking a moment as he felt the burn warm his throat. â I hoped I wouldnât see you. â That was true, or at least part of it was.Â
The other side of him, the more animalistic side, was hungry for her. He could feel the lust boiling through his veins, something that he had tried so hard in the past to ignore, but of course he never could. She was a sort of weakness for him. â Surprised to see me? â he asked, a sharpness to his voice as he finished off his drink with one large gulp.
She could see the change in his countenance and the set of his shoulders when he heard her lazy, teasing drawl, and something within her shifted at that reaction - some part of her that thrived on getting reactions out of people, especially if they werenât prone to being unsettled. It would be deceitful of her to claim there wasnât a part of her that was thoroughly enjoying the illicit excitement his presence offered, but she wasnât about to let it show - no, where would be the fun in that?Â
âWell, you know what they say about hope - breeds eternal misery. And who exactly are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?â, a soft chuckle left her lips as she took a drag from her cigarette, her gaze unflinching when she looked back at him and smiled - all red lips and saccharine promises and bad intentions, âThough Iâm more interested in the fact you were thinking about me at all.â, she tutted softly, shooting a smile in the bartenderâs direction to get them both another glass of their poison of choice, âI donât blame you, but those are some dangerous thoughts darling, I thought you knew better.âÂ
This was a dangerous game, a volatile combination - but that was what made it fun - and Diana couldnât help but be drawn into the storm that was Thomas, after all her entire existence revolved around destruction - of things, people, herself. âActually, yes I am. Thought you were five feet under somewhere, I must admit I mourned the fact someone stole the pleasure of putting you there myself eventually.â She reached out shamelessly, to adjust the edge of his collar - not that there was anything wrong with it, she just liked invading his personal space, it felt like reaching into the flames, and she wanted to burn, âCanât say I havenât missed you - the world gets terribly boring for a girl when thereâs a chronic lack of men to loathe.â
     â looks worse than it feels. â   JD says with blood pouring down his lips & chin as the dead corpse lays below his feet.    â can i get my two hundred bucks now ? â
âOh well, isnât that a shame? I hoped the pain might teach you a lesson.â, Dianaâs eyes scoured the body on the ground, all blood and broken skin, a nameless creature whom she didnât intend or care to identify. She looked up then, a slight twist of distaste forming in the corners of her lips as she reached for her purse to give him a handkerchief, âGod what a fucking mess. Remind me honey, what the fuck were you thinking leaving dead bodies around like this?â Diana was hardly one to mind the gore, au contraire - but what did interest her was why their drug traffickers were murdering people around for money. âCome, we need to get away from here, Iâve heard itâs not a great idea to be seen next to corpses.âÂ
A CIGARETTEÂ was held delicately between the maleâs fingers as he exhaled a sigh full of smoke. He had promised himself that he would never step foot in this town, yet here he was, sat in a bar with a hand tightly gripped around a glass of whiskey. It had been just as easy to sneak back into town as it had been to sneak out. He hadnât spoken to his family in years, and quite frankly he wanted to keep it that way. As much as he cared for them deeply, he knew by talking to them would only create more danger. He would have stayed far away if he hadnât heard the news of his nephew, it had almost stopped him in his tracks. Now he was out for blood, specifically anyone who belonged to the family that he had been designed to hate.Â
He finished his whiskey with one more sip, nearly slamming his glass down on the table as his eyes darted around the dimly lit bar. His jaw clenched, he knew how unwelcome he was in Chicago, and any minute now someone could recognise him. He pulled his hat down to hide his eyes, he was after all, trying to keep a low profile.Â
He had only noticed the person sitting next to him when he had bought himself another drink. His gaze drifted momentarily to the person before staring right ahead. â what the fuck do you think youâre looking at? â he spat, maybe he was a little too paranoid.>
She lingered in a dimly lit corner of the bar, where the air hung heavy and stale, laced with that strange mixture of scents - tobacco and alcohol and late-night desperation. Hidden between the shadows and behind a veil of smoke, she was a still, strange fixture - a bit at odds with her surroundings, but nevertheless this particular spot offered her the desired anonymity. Not that she was a woman accustomed to anonymity by any means, but sheâd decided to make an exception today - better not spook the prey before it even got the chance to order a drink.
The man she was expecting owed her an explanation for a black-market trade gone awry. Except he never arrived. The man that did walk through that door though, offered a more than satisfying alternative, and Diana shifted in her spot like a hungry predator watching the prey go by. And what a prey it was. She finished her drink in one fluid slip, a flick of the wrist, glass left empty on the table - and moved towards the bar, slinking between the tables and the people until she found her spot right next to him.
Perched perilously at the edge of her seat she reached for the cigarettes. Click. Flame. Click. She felt him notice her as she drew in a deep breath, letting the acrid scent to overtake her senses, fill her lungs. âWell wonât you just look at what the cat dragged in?â, smoke curled and twisted from her lips as she spoke, and her pale eyes traced the line of his clenched jaw, half-hidden beneath the shadows of his hat, âNow now, darling, thereâs not need to be so rude, itâs entirely unbecoming.â Her smile was a sharp thing, all edges and a promise of trouble and she directed her attention to the black cigarette held loosely between her fingers with disinterest of a woman who lacked a sense self-preservation, and didnât care to obtain one either. âWhat I think Iâm looking at is a man trying to stay unnoticed. Itâs a charming attempt at anonymity, truly - but, mon cher, you think the hatâs going to do it? Really? Youâre hardly an unnoticeable creature.â
( Katie McGrath, 34, cisfemale, she/her ) Was that DIANA SINCLAIR ? I heard a rumor they work for the OâSHEA family, but who knows for sure ? they can be a bit VINDICTIVE Â & Â HEDONISTIC, but I also heard they can be CARING & PRAGMATIC. youâll usually find them at SKYFALL in their spare time, when theyâre not being a GENERAL. you may want to keep an eye on that one !
hi it is i, claire again (she/her, GMT+2) i present to you the second of my bbies, the myth, the legend, a bitch by the name Diana Sinclair (shh thatâs not her real name). anyway sheâs an old kid of mine that Iâve had for 5 years so i have a lot of thoughts on her, and if you want me to throw her at you leave a †(i love her so much but i promise iâll contain myself)Â
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STATS:
† NAME: Diana Odette Sinclair
â€Â REAL NAME: Anastasiya Spasskaya
† AGE: 34
† DOB: 3rd of January
† BORN: Sankt Petersburg, Russia Paris, France
† HEIGHT: 5âČ5âČâ
† SIBLINGS: a twin brother (Evgeny Spassky)Â
† MBTI: ENTJ
† ORIENTATION: bisexual
† OCCUPATION: art thief/forger, general for the OâShea
† EDUCATION: bachelorâs degree in fine arts, financeÂ
† TATTOOS: yes, a rose with thorns medially from her hipÂ
† SCARS: yes, various
† AESTHETICS: chanel and dior and agent provocateur, goes nowhere without her jimmy choos, blood-red lipstick and nails to match, diamonds are a girlâs best friend, classic aston martin DB5, a gun strapped to her thigh, and knives in various places, sly words and a sharp smile, âmon cheri and darlingâ thrown in when sheâs talking, black sobranie and an old silver lighter
† VICES: tobacco, alcohol, sex
† PETS: yes, an akhal-teke mare named Duchess and a border collie named Nyx
+Â Â caring, loyal, pragmatic, charming, intelligent
-Â Â vindictive, hedonistic, quick-tempered, dramatic, violent
HEADCANONS:Â
â€Â She drives an Aston Martin DB5 and is absolutely obsessed with it, she loves that car. It was a gift from her father back in the day and sheâs kept it in pristine condition all these years. Her fierce attachment comes from the fact itâs one of those rare things that keeps her connected to her father.Â
â€Â The akhal-teke mare, Duchess, was an anniversary gift from her husband - she got her a few months before he killed himself, and she loves that horse dearly, making sure to visit her whenever she has time.Â
â€Â  She has a fondness for sniper rifles - itâs a clean job and requires peace of mind and precision, something sheâd learned back in Paris. Itâs sort of a legacy from another time, and her preferred way of killing someone when itâs possible. Her signature shot is a bullet through the carotid artery.Â
â€Â  She was once a girl of faith, but itâs a topic she has mixed feelings on these days - how can she believe in something when her hands are stained red with blood? Still, she likes the peace and quiet of churches, regardless which faith they belong to, and they offer her shelter and solace when she needs it.Â
â€Â Sheâs not as bad as she might appear. Though she can be cruel and heartless and her words seem sharp and aloof - sheâs a deeply human creature. Thereâs a sense of morality about her that she abides by, itâs a way to make peace with everything sheâs done in her life. Sheâs capable of love and fiercely loyal to those she cares about.Â
â€Â She actually always wanted to be a mom, to do a better job than her mother did, but she realizes itâs not a possibility considering her line of work and the life she lives. One of the more heartbreaking moments in her life was realizing her husband wanted nothing to do with children, and it was absolutely out of question.Â
â€Â  She has an addictive personality and seems to gravitate to all things bad for her, it explains a lot about her marriage and generally life.Â
â€Â  She actually fell in love with another assassin that worked for her husband back in Paris, probably because he was more like her than her husband was, more human and real. But unbeknownst to her, her husband had him killed and covered up so to this day she blames herself for his death, thinking she shouldâve been there to have his back because they were partners in the field. Little does she know thereâs nothing she couldâve done if her husband wanted him gone.Â
â€Â She likes dealing art in the black market when sheâs not out there killing people. Itâs an appreciation her father had instilled in her when she was a child, and later on something her husband showed her could be a job. Sheâs been involved in both art theft and forgery of paintings since painting is something sheâs been skilled at since she was a kid.Â
â€Â She keeps her true identity a secret, partly because she doesnât want anyone coming after her, but mostly because itâs a painful chapter of her life that she prefers to forget. She considers her pain and humanity a great weakness and is very careful about who she lets in on it.Â
â€Â  Sheâs fiercely protective of people in her gang, even if she doesnât get along with them - doesnât matter, theyâre a family and you have to have have familyâs back. But if sheâs on really good terms with you, youâll see a softer side to her, thereâs a lot of maternal instinct in there and she tends to care a lot (if and when she allows herself that)Â
â€Â  She speaks Russian, French and English fluently but for the sake of appearing genuine she dons a faint French accent and throws in a âmon cheriâ here and there for good measure. She speaks English just fine though, bitchâs just acting and being extraTM.Â
â€Â  Also very flirty and can be domineering, I mean what did you expect hahaha
Also connections! iâm going to post a wanted connections page soon but feel free to contact me anyway, like she needs it all from proteges, to friends, to enemies, to fwb just ALL of it, sheâs a wild womanÂ
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