Bow to no one

Dane Duclos || 21yo || Architecture MajorMy constellation burns brightly with confidence and aggression. I'm a soldier of Mars, a child of war, a witch bound by THE ARIES

[dxne-duclos]

Dane Duclos; Head Canon 007 ↳ Libra Season

While more power was gifted to you earlier in the year, your avarice and might seemed to have abused your gift. As Libra rolls above you in the wheel it is time to take penance for your sins and have the balance restored. Now though your magick won’t be stripped or taken, you have found a disharmony in your spellwork that previously seemed simple to you. Receive what you give Aries, for with your power you have a higher chance to be lost in the void of it all; the chaos.

*** Dane‘s magick is still strong but ever more in the beginning of this season it will have problems. Law of three has crept up on the witch and though chaos is his means of power, it can prove that it serves no master. While this power up is strengthening others, it is hindering him---almost letting the balance of his coven to catch up to him. Sometimes air dictates you to learn from your mistakes and take in the abstract ideas you don’t want to swallow.

    Fire might rule your passions but your greed and malice has twisted that part of you, only allowing the ice in your heart to manifest. With this season warmth is ever more important to you, your charms and trinkets are only little batteries trying to power a war machine. Your ring shows you more in the negative than positive, your finger tips feeling like icicles. That hunger you though was in check has come back, and it’s bite is worse than before. You accept what you’ve given, but is it too late to fix your long list of problems?

   Chaos is a pit they say, and you foolishly repelled yourself down it. Though did you not know monsters hide in the dark, and strike when least expected? Your magick is hit and miss these days, and by hit I mean a full on train wreck. You’ve locked dozens of doors and lockers before, but with one flick of your wrist you’ve found yourself ripping handles off and smelting metal knobs into nothing. You aren’t in control and as the stress builds so does your hunger. Careful young witch, the more you fight to accept your sins the more the chaos will feed.

   With your focus on quenching your hunger and keeping up your facade among your friends, family, and the coven you’ve spent more time studying your magick than practicing. One minute the hero conquering the wolf, now feeling like the monster that needs to be slain---you’ve stuck to the only spellwork than hasn’t failed you; candle magick. Lit flames and colored candles hold simple power that you’ve begged for. You light an arrangement of them before you fall asleep, where when morning comes most have melted down as your magic demands a price to be paid.

  Enchantments take a fire to cast them, like the metal workers in the past to create the pedants and jewelry you gravitate towards---but with your fire on hiatus and the ice circulating your veins you have put that on pause too. Perhaps in time your warmth will continue.

  Law of three, has come back twice as hard and until you take on selflessness and take a step back, you will not return. Think of this as your horns are clipped but it is possible to grow back stronger and better. Let Libra guide you this season in exploring communication and truth, instead of lies and selfishness.

  Only time your powers are in sync is if your emotion matches them; volatile. Anger and fear still can spark your fire---yet be wearisome since it only takes a spark to cause a wildfire...the real question is; can you stop it?

[dxne-duclos]

Dane Duclos & Imogen Song; Mood board 001 ↳ Without me

Tell me how's it feel sittin' up there Feeling so high, but too far away to hold me (x)

[dxne-duclos]

Dane Duclos; Head Canon 006 ↳ Magical Arts pt. 2

    Dane with time, much like the others, is starting to find his wheel house in magic. Gravitating to branches of magic, as everyone craft grows it becomes refined. Like Luca with potions and more Green Magic,  to Rory with tarot and auras...there was a reasoning for all of this. So for the Aries, as he blooms into his sign, he’s found that the is naturally gifted in three areas; Candle magic, Charms, & Martial Magic. Giving the first sign in the charts, embodying the element of fire, and being ruled by Mars Dane’s magic is driven by passion, impulsiveness, warmth, and resonating the burning energy he craves. With the months in passing most of the jotted down spells he practiced are in that area, along with the books and online forums he’s browsed through.

CANDLE MAGIC: Is a candle magical in and of itself? No, it is the flame of the candle which is what we are making the magic; the candle and its wax are the fuel for the fire. Candle magic is the oldest and usually most introductory type of magic but don’t let that fool you in thinking it is weak. Harboring the flame as his tool, Dane room is littered with have burned candles with an array of colors and scents. For Dane he feels more empowered when their is a flame lit around him; which made sense how he uses candle magic to better focus his spell work or to solo-use of casting specific spells with intent.

CHARMS: As mentioned before Dane has found charming objects or jewellery with his spell work to be the most appealing magic. Dane’s mild sensitivity to energies or magic, as enable him to pinpoint energy currents or properties he wants, strips them from one source, and can imbue them into other things. Most of his charms have a cardinal root or an Aries vibe to them as they all are in the realm of protections, physical enhancements, or elementally based in air or fire. Making jewelry for himself and for Imogen, Dane has rarely shown others he can charms not just object but areas too. Like with Jude, causing a charm to hinder others to get to close to the door is one instance. Dane uses charms as creation, willing his intents and desires, then forming them into objects or tools for his own protection or needs. 

MARTIAL MAGIC: Dane isn’t some warrior, even after Wolfric, but Mars in his blood does dictate a volatile nature that underlines his magic. Part of this reasoning is why “whiter” magic like healing, scrying, or potions haven’t come that easy with him---as those magic usually take a type of calm or peace he lacks. Though magic that have a cause and effect, like telekinesis or fire absorption/creation is where he gains confidence in. If the spell work dictates a more physical nature to it, elemental, or has disastrous tendencies to them, Dane will most likely be drawn to it or excel at it. At the moment his extent of martial magic is calling the element of fire and air to his needs, mild telekinesis, manipulating infrastructure (like doors, locks, and walls), and a few spells that can bind/protect others. 

[dxne-duclos]

imogenxsong‌:

imogen can feel the pause in dane’s movements and voice; not hesitation, exactly, but he’s definitely running his thoughts through a filter before acting on them. at some point in history this would have been cause for concern. imogen didn’t have to read the original grimoire to know that whatever sign dane was, it would be one that acts on impulse (though she was more than a little amused when she finally did read it and realize just how much of an aries he was, exactly). however, these days, there’s always that little tug of carefulness in his step, at least when he’s dealing with her. it feels as if he’s watching out for her, though imogen can’t decide if he’s watching out in the sense of trying to keep her safe, or watching out in the sense of trying to keep himself safe from her. in the past, she’d easily assume it was an act of self-preservation, but how could that be when he’s actively seeking out her company? after all these months of therapy, imogen’s built up quite a vocabulary for her own emotions and motives- deciphering dane’s, however, is less clear.

his words give little away, but his expression makes up for it and imogen can’t help feeling a little pleased with herself for finding a crack in his facade. “ah, we’ve always been a little magical, don’t you think?” she answers, dismissing any notion that their families or yet another silly function held any sort of power over their feelings about the evening. “it took the universe a few decades to catch up to us, but we were never exactly muggles.” she feigns an attempt at nonchalance, but an amused grin breaks through her defenses.

“it is a nice night,” she concedes, her smile softening as she glances at the gentle current of couples around them, hazy and glimmering under the glow of the fairy lights strung about the ceiling. she’s too content to cheapen the mood with a joke about the clear and present pinterest influence on the decor. instead, she adjusts herself comfortably into the crook of his elbow, her thumb brushing against the back of his neck as she falls into step with him. a small shiver that has nothing to do with magic races down her arm and into her spine. “we don’t have to be the brady-bunch witch cult tonight, do we? we can just be us for a little bit…”

    “Well my mother always said things that are worth the wait, deserve the best reactions.“ he laughed, thinking of how his parents settled their differences. “Honestly I never understood it until I realized she meant it was about her and my father.” continuing to sway with her, Dane found an ease to their movement as it was obvious their bodies moved to an equal tempo to one another---like a secret rhythm  they only knew. “Whenever they’d argue or had to spend time away, something with waiting out a problem my father always rewarded or reacted with flowers or trips...sound stupid but I guess it took the universe time to reward us I guess...” It was uncharacteristic of Dane to talk about his parents, more so in a light that was positive but he blamed the lights and the music that seemed to sweeten his words. “As for being a little magical...maybe. You more than me I think, Miss. ‘Let me make all the boys follow me around with no promise of ever remembering their names’ “ he chuckled, “Perhaps you should practice love magic as you’ve been a natural in that department.”

   The words slipped by=ut the muted shades of pink that lifted against his cheeks was evident that he let impulsive thoughts dictate the conversation for a split second. Grinning he adverted his eyes from her, watching the sea of others around them. Letting their own smiles and movements distract him, while his finger laced between Imogen’s still with subtle but soft affection. This night wasn’t about the coven as it was completely about them...Their lives were encircled with another, whether in magic or just in living. Dane couldn’t help but just shake his head at her---”I’d like that but lets be real, we all can’t help but muck up or are constantly involved in all of our lives.” he sighed, “I already feel Jude’s energy acting up, Luca looks like a murderer in the corner, and I can’t help but see only our members in the house over any face. Y’know? I’d like to pretend right now, you and I are the only ones here, but it’s hard to switch off everything.” Powers, energy, emotions they were all rivers and streams...a flow of static sensations that if any witch here wanted to, could tap into that flow, as it would lead them directly, while quickly to one of the twelve. Dane felt more sensitive to this kind of magic, along with Ruth and most likely Cleo---even if his sign wasn’t know for intuition, his ability over absorption gave him an edge to not just heat but anything in his surroundings that can have a cause and effect.

    “Sorry, little worked up about tonight.” he was honest with her, “but it’s just you and I...so how about we distract each other? I propose you tell me something...like if you weren’t a witch right now, hung up of responsibilities of everyone her and our families---what would you doing instead of this. Where would you be?”

[dxne-duclos]

eltoromagico‌:

A year ago, if you told Jude that real magic existed in the world, he would have laughed at you. Six months ago, he would have rolled his eyes and sighed in disappointment. Tonight, perhaps more than ever, Jude believed in the thrilling, wonder-filled existence magic. It floated between trains of expensive cloth and glided around dainty glasses of bubbly alcohol. It looked at the world with soft eyes the color of clear skies. It gave a kind, reserved smile to the faces it met, saving its gift of laughter for only its most treasured of moments, when it would chime out, holding its slender hands over its fluttering heart. It flushed from pale to pink as boys in fancy jackets flocked to it like birds to a watering hole.

Wait… what? Where the hell is this metaphor going?

Jude had maybe–just maybe–overdid it a bit with the third joint. It had been several months since he’d last smoked pot, and his body had been changing an awful lot these days. Nothing seemed to effect him the way he expected it to. This champagne splashed in frigid waves in his stomach, refreshing and harmless as water. The alcohol never had a chance to soak into his bloodstream before his magic soaked it up. A shame really, as Jude wished more than anything that he could drown out this unbearable pulling sensation that tugged in his chest whenever her radiance captured his eye from across the room. This horrible feeling was a twisting, gnawing hunger he just couldn’t sate.

Or was that the munchies?

Jude frowned deeply at the gurgling tension in his stomach and raised a finger to jab at it frustratedly. “Calm down would you? I already ate half the buffet.” It wasn’t food it wanted. It wanted Faye. Something had happened in the months between that frightening night in the woods and now. He had tried so hard to keep his distance, to be there for her and protect her but only with a careful, friendly space between them. Anytime it began to feel too much like… something else, he scurried away to go do something else, to think about something else, anything other than Faye. It had been working well, until tonight.

Tonight, as much as he smoked, or drank, or ate, or wandered around the extravagant grounds, her wispy shape draped in sheer white and bursting frills of flowers and long sunshine-colored hair spilling over her small bare shoulders called to him back like a siren song. It was infuriating, especially when every time he found her, there was another new boy hovering around her. Jude shuffled from foot to foot. His hand in his pocket fidgeted with the shape of the lighter. Finally, he finished his drink that had been sitting in his hand like a prop for long enough and discarded the glass on the nearest table with a heavy thud. He cleared his throat and brushed aside a swoop of trimmed bangs that were beginning to fall out of their combed hairstyle and tumble across his forehead in whatever manner they wished. He was going to do it.

Do what? He had absolutely no idea. But he sure as hell was going to do something about something. Maybe even something about this churning, tugging, yearning in his stomach. Maybe something he might regret later. He didn’t know. Back home, things were easy, he knew how he felt about things. If a guy got too close, too touchy with something that didn’t belong to him, he got a clean, solid wake-up-call to the nose. But this wasn’t East London, this was a posh charity ball. Jude’s shoulders were cramped inside a tight little costume of high-fashion. Worst of all, Faye wasn’t his. So… he’d do something. Something else. Something appropriate, he hoped. Who knows what appropriate is in this kind of backhanded manners circus?

He didn’t get far. It was like everyone was moving in slow motion but him. As much as he nudged and pushed forward through the crowd, people moved at a snails pace to get out of his way. Jude huffed quietly, steeling himself to try again with more gusto, when something grabbed his arm and pulled him in a completely different direction.

“Woah! Oi, watch it!” Jude clung to the person that was pulling him sideways in an effort to keep from toppling onto the ground. A warm masculine voice hummed in his ear, though Jude didn’t catch the words. “Oh. Hullo hullo Dane. Where we goin’ to, then?” The naturally thick cockney accent of East London slurred his words. His gaze turned away from the direction they walked, watching Faye’s figure shrink away behind other bodies before disappearing around the doorway. “Dane, stop pullin’, yeah? I can walk on me own.” Jude muttered a quiet complaint.

      Dane told himself that he wasn’t going to babysit anyone tonight, that this was an anti-coven night, one that was going to be about him and his wants. Selfishness was a comfortable trait for Dane, you could ask anyone, but for tonight his motives were purer than not... The witch wanted a night where he could dress up, mingle, see familiar family friends, to see his parents, but most of all maybe have a dance with his girl (or at least the girl he wanted). YET here he was, man handling an adult like a child and scurrying into empty rooms to once again make his life the epicenter for the Coven. Frankly he rather they had to vanquishing another wolf or listening to Ruth explain the principle rules of casting a ritual circle than deal with the emotional problems his fellow witches and casters bring to the table.

    “Shut it Jude and be quiet.” repeating himself, until the two were safely behind closed doors and in side a private hallway that was lowly lit. Shoving Jude across from him, Dane looked down at the handle of door before waving his finger tips over it---tracing a symbol over the knob, his finger tips smoldering like embers before locking it, while preventing others from wanting to come this way. Banishment charm and locking spell. Simple. Now that he felt safe enough to be loud and focus on Jude, he pulled at the cuffs of his jacket and stared blankly at their leader. “So what was your plan? Walk over to her and those guys, acting like some gutter punk? Cause honestly mate you’d look like a damn fool out there...What’s up with you?” asking partly as a friend and partly to not have this night turn into a shit-show---for the sake of his family and Ruth’s. “Your energy is everywhere tonight, you smell like cheap cologne and weed, and you are a guest here. So spill cause I’m not letting you leave this hallway until you calm down or figure your shit out.”

    At this point Dane felt like a parent, pacing between the edge of the door and the other side of  the hall. Glancing back and forth at Jude as he stood in front of him, his mind wandered to Imogen and what she was doing and constantly trying to reminded himself why he wasn’t letting the other witch follow the role he was so good at; aka being pathetic. “What’s so important about her that you let her work you up like this?” he paused, gauging the situation before creeping up with his past mistakes, “Are you still hung up about her and I? ‘Cause you and I never really talked that out.....”

[ruthsheart]

night blooming jasmine

[dxne-duclos]

ruthsheart‌:

Ruth pulled the narrow straps of her sleek dress up over her black lacy bra, wriggling into the narrow waistline. Her long, nimble fingers had no trouble reaching the zipper at the small of her back.

It hadn’t taken her long to get ready, though her mother had given her a sharply disapproving glare as Ruth had driven past to park her motorcycle in the rear garage after the ball had already begun. Ruth had brushed back her sweat-dampened helmet-head into clean, slick curls. The wardrobe in her childhood bedroom was still stocked with all the makeup she needed to make her skin glow and her eyes sparkle the way they should. She squirmed from side to side as she awkwardly reached around to close the zipper up her back. She would have to find Marco to finish the last few inches of it in the center of her back where she couldn’t reach.

Her bare feet patted quietly over the deep red hardwood floors of her childhood bedroom. She smiled down at the subtle sound. Skin on polished wood, pap pap pap. As she spun around, her steps grew louder with energy. Pap pap pap pap. Her skirt flared out around her, a glittering circle, like flower petals and dew drops. Sighing, she swept down to hook her fingers into the straps of her heels. For now, she would enjoy the strange and eerie quiet of the closed-off part of the house while the party picked up into a constant rattle downstairs.

Stepping out into the hall, her fingers wrapped around the doorknob to close the door behind her, then paused. Moonlight breathed through the sheer white curtains over her old bedroom window, casting long, shimmery shadows. Beside the window, her child-sized easel sat, lonesome and patient. She poked her head back in to admire the room one last time. A duvet speckled with pink and purple flowers spread across a small four-poster bed, shrouded in more thin white curtains. Her desk, still piled high with art and photography books in mish-mashed stacks, her own scribbled notes scattered between them. A tall mirror with a gilded golden frame hung from nearly floor to ceiling.

How simple her life had been. How effortlessly beautiful.

Ruth traced the engraved letters on her bedroom door. Elizabeth Ruth. After all this time, this place was still hers, even if she could hardly remember that girl who used to live here. Her passions and desires blurred in the tempest of time until Elizabeth Ruth was just another stranger she used to know. No better understood than Dane, or Imogen, or Des. Just another ghost. Ships passing in the night.

She stepped back to shut the door when a motion in the hallway caught her attention. The man looking back at her from the other end of the hall looked as comfortable here in the shadowy abandoned halls of her childhood home as he did brushing elbows with investors at the bar. Those dark, brooding eyes held endless mysteries in their sharp defiance. “Dane,” her voice was breathless with surprise. “Hi.” For a moment, she stared in silence, unsure of what to say. Her relationship with Dane had always been a bit… unstable, to say the least. The strange sort of compassion they’d found only in the last months felt far too peculiar to be true, she was sure. She and Dane were not friends. They’d never been friends. So why was she so relieved it was him, and not one of her father’s goons that appeared in the shadows?

“Come to collect me for the party? I didn’t think they’d miss me enough to send out a search team.” She put on a beauty queen smile and slid the door to her bedroom shut, closing Dane off from the soft memories of her childhood.

@dxne-duclos​

The fortress that was the Marino-Hart’s home always took Dane’s breath away, at least from an architectural stand point. Just approaching the home you noticed how crisp the perimeter of the grounds were. Shrubs and saplings, to oak trees and ornate greenery decorated every plot of the grounds. The garden in the back was truly splendid, especially the part of the west wing where the colonnade lead you to flowering cross-sections where sunburst hues of orange and reds littered the the beds as far as you could see. The moment you get to the front door, you take in the vastness of it all. The way Ruth’s family twisted modernism with French Baroque architecture was masterful; Dane’s favorite were the lengthy columns supporting arched windows twenty feet high, It was just the right amount of over the top but functionality he enjoyed.

    Though once that door opened, the boy is reminded of the saying—a golden cage is still a cage—as the the way the house felt hollow still made him feel uncomfortable even as he entered as an adult. Everything had a place and purpose, so detailed that any flaws were polished, forced, and eliminated before any outside eye could see.   No sound in the house, not even the sounds that houses made: air-conditioning, a crackling furnace, how stairwell creaked from time to time, or the frig cycling on; nothing but a  s i l e n c e that seemed to have been thickening the longer you let your mind be tricked by it. As a child things that scared you were always pushed up on pedestals of youth and ignorance; like a house making you uncomfortable was absurd. There was always a reason to those feelings but it took the witch years of his own experiences to pin-point how home could feel nothing like one---where warmth was traded for perfection.

    Dane’s first moments of the party were filled with crystal champagne flutes and plastered smiles, before his body moved for him and away from the groups that clustered the foyer and the dinning hall. For him his mind still felt like that thirteen year old boy, drawing him to the second and third levels of the house. With out thought, between the sip of his drink and his eyes darting between the painting that held familiarity, he found himself being almost drawn to Ruth without attention. Magical or accidental, Dane heard the girl’s voice forcing him to do a double take around him; his eyes catching her down the mahogany saturated hall.

      “Hey” he breathed out, shaky but still holding his naturally deep tone. Ruth always held a fragility to her, one the man was use to pushing and bending at will, yet in her childhood home that fact never rung truer than in this moment---like a sweet pet stuck in this gilded cage. Deciding to softened the mood he laughed at her joke about search parties, “Honestly knowing your father he’d send a boy with better morals than me to search for his princess...” he approached her, slowly with a light pace in his step, “though I figured I needed a break from downstairs.” a cheeky grin pulled across his face, “Sad right? I must be getting rusty but it hasn’t even been an hour yet and I already want to leave.”

[dxne-duclos]

ARIES: You don’t have to constantly hide behind the persona you’ve created for yourself. We all construct an image of ourselves for the world to see and sometimes it ends up being one that we’d like to embody, or one that we feel we have to. But the thing to remember about an image is that you can’t wrap your arms around it; it’s too delicate to know anything sturdy. There are so many people that are a part of your life, knocking at your door, and it’s about time that you let them in. I know it’s scary, but I promise that it gets easier and easier to open up without a mask on.

Caitlin Conlon, Horoscope poetry

[dxne-duclos]

marco-marino-hart‌:

“Imogen?” Marco’s head snapped back up at the mention of the girl’s name. He didn’t trust his sister and Imogen together, especially after what had transpired between them when they were teenagers. Still, he supposed Imogen was better than no company at all, though it still bothered him that Ruth wasn’t answering her own phone. “My sister’s not crazy, you know. My parents are liars. Ruth never attempted suicide, it was the visions that drove her to- to do what she did. She’s… we’ve been trying to get them under control.”

They weren’t close yet, but Ruth had seemed excited about the prospect of trying blood magic with him. If they could master clairvoyance, they’d be unstoppable against the authors, against anything. The two of them could take on the world together, but those were plans that he did not share with anyone safe for his twin. He tossed a look in Dane’s direction, arching his eyebrows at the sight of the frozen glass in his friend’s hand.

He beckoned the bottle of champagne over with two fingers and the bottle glided over to him, responding to his command. He took it in his hands and began to tear the packaging off the cork. “What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked. He twisted the cork with his hand and the bottle emitted a loud popping noise as he released the cap. He took a swig of the bubbly liquid before offering the bottle out to Dane.

    Ignoring Imogen for a moment, Dane let down his guard for Marco shedding a soft, sympathetic look. “Mate I get it...” sighing, “Frankly I know Ruth and I have a past, petty and juvenile as it is...I’m well.” he looked back up at the sky, finding it easier to speak if he didn’t have to stare at the rawness that was Marco’s eyes when he spoke of his sister---”I’m sorry to hear.” These past months have caused the Aries to form and remold over an over, which was never his plan. that night, the exorcism, was a pinnacle point in everyone’s lives. It caused a ripple that still now, the others were healing from and as for Dane he was healing from his choices in the past and how he could remedy is connections now. “Really, I wish I knew but let’s be real...I didn’t deserve to know but I hope you two know that it’s not just you two anymore.” he turned his attention back to Marco, just in seconds to watch his intentions drag the bottle across the table. A simple smirk curled on Dane, but he held to the topic. “You both have the ten of us now, to whatever capability you want that....”

   With a shrug, Dane peeled away the seriousness of the moment and continued to what he does best; distractions. “Well honestly I feel like I don’t know exactly what you and I could do.” he was vague about the topic, “I mean I know you and I practice but I don’t know what you can fully do or not---probably vice versa.” but with a cheeky grin, he placed his glass down and mimicked Marco’s talent; telekineticly calling the bottle towards him. Lacking the finesse that the other had, the champagne wobbled through the air before hovering close enough for the witch to grab it. “---Voila.” taking a sip, “Not the only one that can move shit with your ming, but frankly I’ve always been better with pushing than calling.” his head flicked to the side, tossing the chair behind Marco into the wall; frankly harder than needed. The Aries always lacked control but made up for in power. “What are you in the mood for and lets brainstorm...I’m open for anything...” the excitement in his voice hid a darker truth, that the thought of magic was still an intoxication for him.

[dxne-duclos]

marco-marino-hart·:

In the end, Marco hadn’t found Ruth. His sister’s outburst had turned out to be the talk of the night, and his parents were on the offensive, trying to mend whatever irrevocable damage Ruth had surely caused. He hadn’t tried to help them. Instead, he had made his way through the crowd, weaving in and out of groups of people and silently cursing himself for being so far away from his twin. His twin. The person he shared everything with, half of his heart and soul. He had seen the train set on its collision course, but he had been too late to stop the wreck from happening. Mental illness. Of course it had everything to do with Ruth. His parents would stop at nothing to gain what they deemed belonged to them, even if that meant throwing their own daughter under the bus in the process.

He should’ve picked up on it sooner, he should’ve known what was coming. He was meant to protect Ruth from their parents’ inadvertent cruelty. His mind had been too preoccupied with Cleo to notice all the warning signs. How could he have messed up this badly? He was supposed to be better than this, better for Ruth. With a bottle of champagne he had nicked from the kitchens, he made his way out onto the veranda. Dane’s voice greeted him in the dark.

“Honestly, Dane, I don’t think an escape will make much of a difference at this point,” Marco said, setting the bottle of champagne down on the cast iron table by the door. He moved to join Dane by the railing. “The whole night’s gone to shit.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Was it really that complicated for them to just act normal this evening? I told Ruth this was a bad idea.”

    Marco was admirable, Dane has always had a soft spot for the boy. The definition would have lingered somewhere in the middle of admiration and infatuation. It wasn’t like the witch ever had a  c r u s h; some soft and gooey emotional attachment but more of a mutual respect coupled with how aesthetically pleasing Marco looked. Ever since they were kids he always wanted to protect Ruth, a strong figure, and someone who rarely was took shit from anyone. It was qualities like that that kept them close (at least for the summers they were around). So to see Marco so bent out of shape made Dane empathize, far more than for others---since his reaction would be along the lines of some sardonic opener, with snarkier dialogue to follow. 

               YET he swayed away from such typical behavior. 

    “With our families I believe that would be normal.” sighing, “though I get it... I mean, no need to get yourself too worked up. I got a text from Imogen---” he paused sipping his drink, while washing back the taste in his mouth about Imogen ditiching him, “she’s went after Ruth. So she’s in good hands.” Honestly the news of Ruth hit Dane fairly hard on multiple levels. Recalling the past few years, he knew the girl was strong, but not knowing that she was dealing with far more made him feel guilty, annoyed, and impressed that their relationship had lasted this long. Shallow as his insults were or felt, he wonder if any of his actions weighed heavier than he expected; he started to play back moments and asking---Did I push too hard? 

     None the less he didn’t let the feeling of the night linger, not letting it bog him down. Instead he turned against the railing to face Marco, eyeing him like he did when they were kids, “Well at least now when things go to shit we have magic to pass the time.” grinning while the drink in his hand began to grow colder; the glass frosting over just enough to be noticeable before Dane relinquished his spell. “---Not saying we should put a spell on the party but if you need to blow off steam I have ideas.”

[dxne-duclos]

Imogen; Holy art thou

for being an event attended by twelve poorly-managed witches with a penchant for hurting themselves, imogen’s surprised at just how well everything’s gone so far. across the venue, she can see ava and vincent happily chatting away and smiling, and imogen feels she’s truly done her good deed for the night in rescuing her friend from certain misery. that’s not even to mention her role in helping cleo get dolled up, nor her (mostly failed, in all honesty) attempts to help jude relax a little bit. all in all, she’s been a very good imogen this evening, and as she makes her dutiful, daughterly rounds with her father she can feel her good karma points rising for the first time in a while. while not exactly her style, these sorts of events are her home turf, and she’d forgotten how good it could feel to feel like she knows what she’s doing for once.

she’s done her best to keep her phone out of sight thus far- while some of the attendees might spend the entire evening on their devices, she knows that if she’s seen with it in her hand too frequently that her father’s ever-important friends might decide she’s too much of a tech-obsessed millennial to be taken seriously. besides, it’d probably hurt jude’s feelings, even if it is just dane she’s talking to. just dane.

speak of the devil, she feels dane approach before she sees him; his magic tugging at the edges of hers like a magnet pulling at filament, making itself known without creating too much of a disruption. it’s a sense she’s developed since he’s been back from paris, in the bits and pieces of time they’ve spent around each other. plenty of things push and pull at her magic, from electrical appliances to random metal objects, but nothing with quite the same signature as dane’s power. when she does finally face him, it’s with the same practiced warmth with which she’s greeted her father’s peers thus far. a master of appearances, he looks every bit as impressive as imogen is sure he intended to- his suit just a bit too fashionable for the conservative crowd- enough to make him stand out but not enough to make them angry with the unfamiliar- hair carefully combed into place like he’d taken inspiration from some fine art statue. it’s not his appearance, however, that catches her off guard, but that small glint of mischief in his eye as he makes his way to formally greet her father. she glances away for a moment while the two men chat, giving herself a chance to re-center her thoughts.

“if i know my daughter,” mr. song answers in his typical, soft-spoken way, “she’ll make that decision regardless of my opinion.” he smiles fondly at imogen, no malice in his answer, but it’s clear from his tone that he appreciates dane’s gesture anyway. imogen returns her father’s smile before turning back to dane. 

“such high hopes,” she answers, a small smirk betraying her amusement at her own cleverness. “i suppose it can be arranged.” she reaches to take his arm and follow him out to the floor, her smirk giving way to a full-on smile as the familiar pulse of the overlap between their powers softly floods the places where their arms touch. “i don’t remember you liking dancing all that much,” she says as the make their way across. “must be a special night.”

    Mr. Song always had a sense of his daughter, that her spontaneity was under her control and loyal to nothing else but her whims. Smiling graciously at her, Dane found his own amusement rising in him like a pillaring flame as she accepted squashing the fraction of doubt that Imogen might have used this moment to tease him; knowing that a no would drive him stir crazy. Dane was felt like he had to be on guard with Imogen, in the way where he wasn’t sure where he stood with her. One minute they were having lunches, texting non-stop, but with a flick of a mood---the moon shifting---radio silence and excuses being filed. So to say Dane was relieved with Imogen’s response, would be an understatement and with her beside him, feeling as though the night had just started, he lead her to the dance floor. Where her arm curled into his, he placed his other hand affectionately against hers, strolling softly among the gaps in the crowd until a spot could be procured.

   “It isn’t the dancing part I dislike, it’s normally the partner.” replying coy-like, his face barely hiding the enjoyment across his face. The strong features the Aries’ sported rippled with a particular warmth ; his eyes less sharp and more inviting. Matched with a widening smile, the young witch’s expressions were calm while holding youthfulness to him—something that was rarely seen. “Besides, isn’t it a special night?” he asked, “Our families are here, it’s a good cause, and all the while we hide our secrets of being some brady-bunch of a witch cult underneath their noses.” unlinking their arms as he spoke, his hand took Imogen’s to spin her out, “It’s kind of fun, no?” then twirled her back into him so they could unite like the rest around them.

    The music was dulcet, as the violins and cellos played softly against the piano that accompanied the singer. Dane kept his hands at the curve of her back, gentleman through and through, while his bare hand laced between Imogen’s so delicately. Something about this moment left the witch buzzing, even if his magic was mostly being kept under wraps. His nature wanted to less control, to feel and explore without limits---however since the party, he knew where Imogen stood and didn’t want to push. Besides casting an orgy around them with their uncheck, fervorous energy would probably not be the best decision for them. 

[dxne-duclos]

Imogen; Holy art thou

   Dane’s night was him bouncing around between family interest and ‘hellos’ he had to make---his connection with the coven sprinkled around through the night. His attention always being peeled away by his phone; which held sweetly laced text from the only person he really wanted to speak with all night. At first Dane pouted in his own way that Jude and Imogen were showing up together---a small gesture but appearances were everything here. The Aries wanted to have her draped on his side, but he licked his wounds and remedied them with high-grain spirits. His thoughts were always aimed on her, that at times he felt like he could sense her when she would pass by the crowds or between rooms he was just seconds late in following after. It nipped at his sensibilities, and with the night growing longer towards the anticipation of the speeches the young witch found himself at the edge of the ballroom floor. Gripping his drink, phone in the other, he waited to see where she was or if she’d ding him again with her virtual presence. 

         The former found its way with him the moment Imogen walked in with her father beside her, causing Dane’s heart to sink into his chest, while his lust sprung up through his throat. Seeing her quickly made the people in the room faded away from him; tracing every moment she performed before him. It was like she had a spotlight, his eyes taking in her form that was carved and cinched into place by her dress. Roses embroidered her shoulders, moving down in sequences of silvery and metallic threading---she was intoxicating and forbidden; like the sinful flowers that decorated her. Sweet, red and inviting, but hide thorns underneath that beauty. Dane stood silently watching her from afar, letting himself relish in her while simultaneously forcing his magic in check. 

                                It burned underneath his icy skin.

    Gripping his necklace, to recharge a warmth in his touch, he finished his drink with a quick sip and approached her. Nervous, he hide those feelings behind a smile---one that was familiar to her. Nodding at Imogen, as she noticed him approaching, Dane paid attention to say hello to her father first. “Hello Mr. Song, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” shaking the man’s hand, “I hate to interrupt you like this but I was hoping to steal your daughter for a moment.” looking at her, “I was hoping she’d dance with me this evening.” 

[dxne-duclos]

Jude; Punctual, paranoid, & possessive.

   Dane found in amusement in watching Jude and Faye dance around their feelings with out ever interacting that much during the ball. Cruelty curled on his lips as he caught Jude glaring across the room at Faye, who was mingling with a few Cambridge boys by the looks of their lapels along with Ruth beside her. Handsome as they were, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist---hell anyone that spoke with Faye for an hour---to know that they weren’t her type. YET there was their leader, practically foaming at the mouth with jealousy. What was it with people when who didn’t come from money so threatened by others with it? Dane never understood it but coupled with Jude’s touch-and-go personality and his finickiness with his wants....well the witch understood the position he was in. Sipping his martini, he planned on leaning back against the bar and watch as this silent movie unfolded. 

               H o w e v e r ---

    His brow furrowed watching the other slam his drink back, like a freshman pledge at his first party, before he straightened his jacket. “What the--” whispering to himself while Jude began to walk towards Faye; his strut heavy and visibly angry. It was humorous but for the sake of the Marino-Harts, along with his reputation Dane shot off from where he stood and directly to intercepted Jude. Weaving between the a few of the guest, the witch dodging long silk trains and waiters carrying half-a-month worth of rent in champagne flutes Dane finally could reach Jude. Grabbing the man’s arm, visibly more muscular than his own, he managed to slowly dragging him away from his trajectory. 

       “Hey mate, how about you and I have a little talk.” he said soothingly, but through gritted teeth him and Jude knew it wasn’t as pleasant as he made it seem. Eyeing an exit a few tables away, he forcefully but without a commotion took Jude out of the ballroom floor. 

[dxne-duclos]

Marco; paupers and princess never mix

     The ball was in full swing, the night was a mellow haze of champagne and nicotine drags between ornate pillars and serene gardens. Dane was lingering near west-facing veranda, his body leaning over the railing as he just took a minute to escape the night’s pressures. Having to have a face on at all times, to speak to the people your parents have marked for you---like some charming spy----it was exhausting but rehearsed and normal at this point. However what didn’t feel normal was his coven being here, unfamiliar faces and lesser classed individuals walking around like they belonged. It didn’t annoy Dane as much as it made him nervous for their actions. It’s one thing to drink or smoke up before a party; but a party of this caliber...well it was foolish.

    Watching Jude acting like a pitbull around Faye, needy and desperate becoming his pattern and mannerism was pitiful; to Rory and Cleo walking around like doe-eyed children marveled at the candy shop that was the families that (in most ways) ran London. Luckily he could count on a few, the names that were deserving---The Marino-Harts, the Beaumonts, and the Songs. They held their mask and formalities close to their chest, while each of them knew their minds were far from sobriety. 

     Hearing the door open, his head cocked over before cracking a grin at the man, “Ahh Marco, needing to escape too?” 

[dxne-duclos]

 Dane Duclos; Moodboard ↳ Charity Ball

     Dane loves a good ball or an event; any excuse to where thousand of dollars for an evening. Lover of fashion, the kind that feels like art, Dane was in the mood for black and gold for the evening. Sporting a Dolce & Gabbana Chantilly Lace Velvet Evening Jacket and matching black trouser, the young Aries felt like a million bucks. 

His outfit up close (x, x)

Dane is wearing his grandfather’s cartier watch, as a request by his parents. It’s a clunky for his taste but definitely a conversation starter among the older crowds.

Dane is cleaner cut than normal, hair moussed and combed back, everything dotted and crips as it was tailored to his body with ease. The Duclos family is never one not to impress, so Dane was eager to turn heads that night.

Along with the darker theme, he decided to were some rings he’s charmed and a few necklaces. Nothing too much, just his ring to indicate his heat levels---along with two for luck and balance. His necklace is the volcanic rock that he uses to recharge. 

He has this edgy yet ostentatious vibe for the night. Very posh with grungy accents. 

[dxne-duclos]

Dane Duclos; Headcanon 006 ↳ The Parents

Valentino Louis Duclos: 48, Canadian Diplomat, Part French-Candian and Part Columbian.

Dane’s father is as stern as his jawline, ambitious and unyielding in his aspirations, but just as charming and charitable as his job requires of him. Growing up as a first-generation from his mother’s side, Valentino grew up being a die hard lover of his country, and was beyond proud to live the life his mother always hoped for. Dane’s grandparents are a loving story of pauper women finding love in an aristocrat kind of man—the rest was history. So for Valentino his life was raised in the riches of father but humbled by the humility that was his mother. As he aged he began to work in green energy startups, being an investor or accounting/analytics for most of them until he could partner with them or straight up buy them out. He stamped the Duclos name across the eastern territories of Canada but the man that he is now wouldn’t come until he was 36. Becoming a diplomat requires particular asset to the country, backers and recommendations, and frankly the job seemed to fall in his lap. At this time Dane’s mother and him were married, and without Mia pushing him into it all he wouldn’t have done it. Now being Canada's diplomatic advisers and counselor, Valentino started to give everything to his country for over a decade and his strained relationship with Dane hasn’t been mended. Between his expectations of him and the betrayal that he and his wife concocted with Lilian it almost seems irreversible. 

Mia Duclos née Winters, 42, Immigration Lawyer, Part Dutch-Canadian and Part Chinese

     Mia is sharp witted with a sharper tongue, isn’t a push over, and her haughty attitude was what caught Valentino’s heart. Dane’s mother is everything to him, as he is the prototypical of someone who’s a momma’s boy. Mia, as according to Valentino, babied Dane but how couldn’t they? He was their world, their blank canvas where they could project their highest goals on him—since in his parents eyes Dane was something of a miracle. Mia had been trying for 2 years, before they had him (which to some may not sound like a lot but for the couple it was a hard two years). After that her life was Dane, her career, and their family. Everything was a whirlwind for what felt like a decade. Between her husband career changes, her own career, family, and traveling while trying to be a mother showcased the resilience and the will to succeed in the Duclos family name; something that is rooted in Dane. Mia is an immigration lawyer, knowing her own immigrated roots and Valentino having an immigrant mother, her joy and focus has always been the protection of others and the rights that Canada’s sovereignty offers. Mia and Dane now are on better terms than his father, but still colder than she wanted it to be. Her actions with Lilian at times feels like it was the right thing to do but there are days she second guesses it. 

Beaumont Family; The Beaumonts and the Duclos have connections among one another through politics and England having strong trading powers between them. Paticularly the husbands are close, as during a stint they both worked closely on a contract that their specific departments were overseeing. From that point every gala or ball that was big for the year the families would often go to one another. Dane spent summers in London, where the Beaumonts checked up on him from time to time. Aka how Desmond and Dane knew one another previous to the coven’s formation. 

Song Family; Imogen’s mother and Mia went to college together actually, not being the closest but over time and life found them both reconnecting through the years. Imogen’s father ultimately has business with Valentino, as his finacial firm has several large money contracts that are owned by the Duclos. They have a working relationship and only got closer after the death of Imogen’s mother.

Marino-Hart family; Honestly the Marino’s and Duclos don’t have bad blood, but are the ones that swim in the same pound so to speak but not too close. Marino-Hart’s are on several boards of trusties that Duclos family are apart of, even if they consider England a second home they found themselves here more often than not. Dane himself was used as a tool for many summers presenting or accepting awards on behalf of his father or mother. He’s made friends with Ruth and Marco casually through parties and the tennis courts that they were enrolled in. However time distanced them before the coven.

[dxne-duclos]

[dxne-duclos]

Dane Duclos; Timeline ↳ Post Exorcism

The night of the exorcism caused Dane to have damage about 30% of his upper right frame; shoulder blade, biceps, and slash marks across his chest line. Thanks to Jude Castillo, his healing prevented any of the damage to grow into anything critical. The regrowth of his veins and muscles, were magically fused by him but the external damage and hemorrhaging was taking care of by doctors. Dane spent up to 3 days in the hospital, having x-rays dictate that his shoulder blade has a hairline fracture, along with the several bite marks and claw marks that littered his body. He’s spent time since, having a few more sessions with Jude to make sure he heals faster than normal but was left with two puncture scars on his shoulder and a faintly, colored scar on his chest. He’s searching for some herbal treatments, but nothing seems to take them away. 

The aftermath of the night left most of the Coven to be spread thin and practically disappeared in each others’ lives.  Faye Westaway was someone Dane seeked out of everyone, having a chip on his shoulder he needed to relieve. It took several ignored messages and Jude telling him to back off, before she agreed for a coffee. For Dane, apologizes came few and far between but owning up to the mistake he made, wanting whatever amends he could make with her. “Faye if I knew, that it wasn’t you...I’d...I’d hope you know I would have never.” From that point on Dane has stayed silent about the topic, acknowledging that it is her secret to bare and a shame he’ll have to endure too. Even if the topic had ammunition, a blow he could use against people like Jude or Ruth, he’s held his tongue on it.

After the attack, a week or two, Dane also thanked Ruth Hart for her athame and checked in on her. That night stirred problems in her and though Dane wasn’t emotional support she needed, his encouragement and praise was hopefully enough to help her. Dane tried to cleanse the blade several times, but the blood stained handle almost felt like it kept remnants of Wolfric. The witch voiced his concerns and asked if she destroyed it as she was the one who created it. 

Imogen Song became a rock for Dane once again, though through means of silent messages. He texted her nonstop in the hospital and often was around when Jude and him had sessions. He worries for her, the fact that she would push and pull him away more and more makes him hope the coven isn’t pushing her too hard. Dane has secretly been looking for enchantments to keep Imogen in check but not restrained---more like buffs for her powers. Sadly he hasn’t found much. 

As for the rest of the Coven, Dane has kept civility among them yet not a true turn of a leaf so to speak. With the energy they all used, the danger, it rattled them---made them feel more like humans than they have in a while. So for Dane he wants to respect people’s boundaries for the time being but doesn’t plan on babying them forever.