the renaissance @fytherenaissance - Tumblr Blog

i am titanium.

chapter eighteen. you can shoot me down but i won't fall. october sixteenth :: 2027

Ingrid: *How remarkably socialist of Jana. And by remarkably she meant the exact opposite, as it didn't surprise her in the slightest. The gall of this woman, honestly. But she had long been finished with paying any attention to that woman's criticism of their lifestyle. Some people could never be made to see to reason. Blaming an entire society for the actions of one man, how incredibly hypocritical. Their children might have had a real opportunity to grow, to be taught the graces and the tradition. No, Ingrid never welcomed her, but many others, some whom she considers friends, had. No, if they had truly wished to raise their children in pureblood tradition they would have, despite everyone else. The simple fact was that Miss Rivers didn't want to, because she thought the lifestyle disgusting. It was that, the judgment of the way she lived her life, that Ingrid wouldn't tolerate. Again, it was a tired argument, so she didn't even bother to tend the flames of it.* If there would have been any evidence on who attacked Mr. Hall, disciplinary action would have been taken. *She scoffed at the other accusation, based on nothing but lies. The woman was so blinded by her distaste of her, her son, and their lifestyle to see that she spoke nothing but lies.* More insults to 15 year olds, Miss Rivers, really? This is frankly, disgusting. *It was no wonder her children behaved so abominably. Theirs was not the fault, when they had such a role model in their home: a crass and vulgar woman, with no respect for anyone, who didn't flinch away from insulting and threatening children. And she wondered why Ingrid had never welcomed her.* He has the memory of seeing Holly Rae Graft that night. No further evidence and because of it, no disciplinary action was taken. We do not take the law into our own hands, and I suggest you refrain from doing so yourself. *She couldn't stand one more second of this insufferable woman. Swallowing a retort and unwilling to bring up that memory, she draws herself back up again and pulls on the edges of her jacket.* Gladly.

#chapter eighteen #i...#can't

the sun hit's your face; hush baby speak softly

chapter seventeen: october sixteenth :: 2027

She awoke with a start, a pair of heavy brown eyes staring deep into her with a curiosity that frightened her. She sat up, backed away on a thin mattress until her back hit the cold, stone walls at a corner. Curling up into a ball, her wide eyes peered above the top of her knees which were pressed against her chest. She breathed in and breathed out, rapidly and erratically, a shout of “leave me alone!” mingled among the rough exhales. The man stayed standing, his hands raised and palms facing her as if to say he meant her no harm. The girl was not inclined to believe him, because- Her eyes widened further as she took in her surroundings. Black walls made of black stone, a gated door, and the only light that was to be found floated above them in the form of a glowing orb, casting a shiny blue hue on both of them. Her breath was visible in the air, a white frosty mist that floated away from her mouth and up towards the ceiling before disappearing entirely not even halfway through its journey. It was cold here, wherever ‘here’ was. Tears sprang up into her eyes suddenly, and a sob raked her chest, heaving it back and forth with short little bursts of air. The sudden despair had taken her, overwhelmed her, made claim to her very soul and yet she was none the wiser for why that was, save for a very important detail. Her eyes made contact with the other man’s again. He seemed tall from where she was standing, and slender. Daunting shadows haunted his eyes, giving him the appearance of someone who hadn’t been able to fall asleep in years. Her tears did not stop falling even as she continued to look at him, as if such a thing would enable answers to leap off the man’s grey shirt and jacket so she could stop being so confused. Her observation must have passed off as acceptance of him to the man for he took another step forward, causing her to stand. The thin mattress creaked underneath her, springs worn out and rusty as she sought to sink herself further into the wall. The cold and oddly smooth texture left goosebumps wherever her flesh made contact with it, causing her to shiver further in something more than fear. “D-don’t come any closer! Who are you?! Where am I?! Why am I…” her high-pitched inquiring voice died down as she realized she was not asking the right questions. She swallowed a dry lump in her throat, as her nose sniffed and her chest rose up and down rapidly like a hummingbird in mid-flight. Lip quivering, all her strength seemed to fail her at that moment and she slid down the length of the wall to lie oddly still once again on the mattress. Eyes wide and unseeing of the man any longer, her fingers lingered above her mouth as if they could keep her breaths contained, her strength unveiled, the little warmth she had from leaving. Looking up again, she realized what question she should have asked first, the most important question in the world. “Who am I?” The man appeared unfazed by her reactions, simply seeking to sit down again on the chair next to the cot she was laying in. This time she didn’t protest, though she did press her back further into the corner, her body shivering. It was so very cold. “Take this,” the man extended a stoppered vial towards her, the liquid inside seemed viscous and as orange as boiling lava. She kept her hand exactly where it was, eyeing the potion with suspicion and hesitance. She raised her question once more, for the man hadn’t answered her, even when she commanded his entire attention. There was not much left to examine in a room like this, she figured. After a minute in silence, she began again, ignoring the outstretched potion. “Do you know who I am?” “It doesn’t matter right now.” His voice was hoarse and yet oddly soothing to her, but his tone revealed nothing for her to decipher about him. His hand simply remained outstretched and still, like a statue. It was only now that she was noticing the marks on the back of his hands and wrist, up his forearms before disappearing into the rolled up sleeve. There were angry lines, some red, some a most terrifying color of black, others barely noticeable past the slight rise on his skin. Her wide eyes returned to him again, before asking hesitantly. “How did you get those?” “Girl,” she found she recognized that tone suddenly as he spoke it; it was of chastisement. Her cheeks flushed, her gaze falling on the moth-eaten cover of the thin mattress that was now strewn about her feet. She almost considered putting it around her shoulders to try and alleviate her freezing arms but immediately rejected the idea. She didn’t want to accommodate herself any further, and she didn’t want to be comfortable here for a second. She didn’t belong here. She might have not have known where exactly it was that she called home, but she knew it wasn’t this place, with the strange man bearing strange scars. He spoke again. “Take the potion. You’ll feel a lot warmer.” Eyes snapped upwards as she regarded the potion again. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little more comfortable, before the chill set in her bones and froze her in that very spot. Her hand extended slowly, hesitantly, before the other joined it. Together, they grasped the vial in her palms, holding it gingerly. It even felt warm to the touch. Maybe her earlier description of lava hadn’t been too far-stretched. She uncapped the thin vial, unable to restrain another glance at her single companion. “It’s not poison,” he said, as if he read her thoughts. Maybe, he actually could. “Would you say if it was?” Her voice was quieter than before, less manic but less sure as well. Fear blanketed her as thoroughly as the cold did, as much as she wished to be wrapped in warmth instead. Fear and uncertainty made for her a mask of terror that was too difficult to do away with. “No.” That was it that was the response, that single denying syllable on which she was betting her life and her safety. If he wanted to hurt her, she thought to herself, bringing the glass tube to her dry lips, he would have done so already. She gulped it all down quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards, her eyes tearing and smoke coming out of her ears and nostrils. Giving back the vial, she coughed repeatedly, rubbing her chest and throat but it was working, and she was decidedly warmer. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me quite yet, girl.” He waved a hand over the vial and it disappeared into thin air. The display of effortless skill made her shiver despite the sudden warmth that was coursing through her veins. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Do you know who I am?” “A prisoner.” The blunt, straightforward answer caught her off guard. The heat, previously spreading across her body, stopped dead in its tracks and turned into pure ice. Frozen, she surveyed the room she was in again, only now noticing it was no room at all. It was a cell, a prison, a cage. Somewhere deep underground she expected if the cold had anything to say about it, or maybe high above, she couldn’t be too sure. There were no windows, no openings except the space between the metal bars that kept her captured. Horrified eyes turned towards the man, towards her captor. “What do you want with me?” He seemed to bide his time, watching her, examining her as if she were an animal on display. That’s what he must think of her, to have her locked up. Her panic rose and rose as she began to wonder what had happened to her, who she was, why they would want her there and what they wanted from her. It couldn’t have been something she’d willingly give, if they had to hold her prisoner to get it. So distraught was she as her thoughts ran rampart and her imagination constructed scenarios each as equally possible and unlikely as the next, that she hadn’t been aware that the man had spoken. She cleared her throat. “Pardon?” The polite expression seemed to amuse him briefly, his lips flicking up for the briefest of seconds, his gaze darting downwards before he repeated himself, no angrier for having had to repeat himself. “I don’t want anything from you, girl. I won’t hurt you.” She caught the distinction in his voice, almost immediately. A pit seemed to form in her stomach as the truth of the words hit her in the face. She couldn’t say how she knew, couldn’t explain it with words or logic that anyone would find satisfactory, it was a simply a deep knowledge. To her, it was the most real thing she could recall, the most certain aspect of herself that she could remember. Watery eyes met stoic ones. “You, won’t hurt me,” she swallowed a lump in the back of her throat. It scratched as it made its way down, her mouth dry like a desert, one devoid of an oasis for miles and leagues. “Who will?” At that moment, eerily on cue, a blood curling scream echoed into the cell distantly. The sound was so unexpected, so loud, that the girl could not restraint a scream of her own. She clapped her hands over her mouth quickly, closing her eyes. It was a nightmare, she told herself. It was a nightmare and she was just going to wake up and it would all be over. She would have a nice life, one she could remember and it would be warm, and the sun would hit her face and illuminate it in a warm glow and she would never have to see this man again. She opened her eyes, and almost began crying anew when she found herself still trapped. Black tendrils of tangled hair peeked around her eyes like tentacles, black walls enclosed her, and black iron bars caged her inside. The man slid his chair closer to her after casting a glance at the bars, his eyes narrowed in what she hoped was disdain and anger rather than apathy. This man, who said he would not harm her, and that she quickly believed, was the only human she remembered having contact with. She prayed she wouldn’t meet anyone else. “Don’t scream again.” Gladly, she thought to herself, molding herself slowly into a curled up ball as much as she could. If it was something that she could control, she would have, but she was so scared. She hadn’t realized until he was responding to her, that she had said those exact words out loud. “Then try your very best. Because once you start screaming, they won’t let you stop.” The continued blunt honesty of his answers was catching her off guard. Nothing was being sugar coated; nothing was twisted with false hope or misinformation. She wasn’t used to it. For having only been in this world for ten minutes, because that’s how she felt like she was born again, she already knew blunt honesty was something that both scared her, but that she was thankful for. He had looked so calm while saying it too. Her eyes fell to the scars on his forearms again, and began noticing other scars: one down his eyebrow that stopped in the middle of his cheek, another across his neck that left almost no doubt of the wound he had suffered to have acquired it, and one that twisted one corner of his mouth up permanently. He was a damaged man, and suddenly she feared going through his same fate. “What did they do to you?” He visibly stiffened, surprised by her question, and she was relieved to see a fault, a break, a human even if it was for the briefest of seconds, vanishing so quickly that she doubted she had truly seen it with her own eyes and had not just imagined it, her own mind providing her with the images that she wanted to see. “What makes you think I’m not one of them?” “Are you?” Her voice remained quiet, remained a whisper. His warning to her about not screaming had settled into the most basic belief of her system. She had nothing else to believe at the moment. “I am now, or else I am nothing.” Was that what awaited her as well? Becoming nothing? She already had no idea of who she was, where she had been, where she was going. If that wasn’t ceasing to exist, if that wasn’t a total loss of identity, of purpose, of being, she didn’t know what was. The only that she could define herself by was the fear she felt, the cold that seeped inside her skin, the anxiety and the uncertainty of what awaited her next. He seemed sympathetic –no, that wasn’t right—he was empathetic. He didn’t give himself those marks, again she knew not how she knew that only that she did, and cruelty was not something that radiated from him. Though, if that was all a ruse to deceive her and gain her trust…it was working. Her knees slowly slid down against the mattress once more, uncurling from her ball, her protective cocoon. “Who are you?” He chuckled, and the sound was warm, and safe. He must have been a very nice man…once. Now, it seemed more like a shadow, fleeting and incorporeal. “I’m a dead man.” That confused her. “But you’re…here, you’re alive. Or am I dead?” “No, girl.” He shook his head at her, his expression empathetic again, less harsh than before. “You’re not dead. Not yet.” She shivered again. He really had to stop doing that. Every truth struck her body as sharp blades, piercing soft flesh and remaining heavily imbedded as life pulsed around the intruding object, protesting against the invasive presence but also becoming more alive because of it. She hated it, and she needed it. She chewed on her bottom lip, her questions never ceasing. “Am I going to die?” “Everyone dies, child. What you want to ask is, are they going to kill you before you’ve had a chance to really live your life.” The girl nodded, feeling as much like the child that he said her to be. Yes, that’s what she was wanted to ask, that’s what she was afraid of. Death. “Don’t think about it.” She frowned again, having expected more direct an answer instead of one that was so dismissive. How could she not think about it in the midst of all this darkness? How could she not wonder of her fate, when she could not wonder about her past, when there was nothing in her present but him and a cot? How was she supposed to control herself that well? It seemed impossible to her. Frustration crept in, slowly and surely, until she was glaring at the man. “Don’t think about it? That’s it? What else am I supposed to think about when I recall nothing else but thisprison and your scars and that scream-,” her voice died off, the strength that had been allowed to her by her anger quelled down. Anger, she realized, was not something she knew how to harness; it did not come naturally to her. She tore her eyes away and looked at the wall instead, expecting to fine lines of mortar. She was disappointed. The walls were smooth, as if the rock had always been there and it was simply carved to turn it into something more unnatural. She knew nothing of rocks, knew not what this type was, nor did she care. But it was something else to think about, and wasn’t that what he wanted her to do? “You don’t want to think about it,” he started again, undeterred by her frustration, “because soon you’d reach the same conclusion I did so many years ago.” “Yeah?” she asked, a defiance in her voice she didn’t know whether to attribute to her situation or her age, for while she didn’t know a specific number, she certainly felt young. “And what’s that?” “That death would be a kindness.” There went another knife, this time close to her heart, scraping an artery, and landing in her lungs. On cue, breath became more difficult, panic set in again, her heart raced and blood pumped in her ears loud enough for her to be able to hear it. Was he able to hear her heart as well? There was no other noise around them. The scream that had invaded the cell before was a solitary sound, and no other accompanied it. The girl feared for what that might have been. Her imagination set off again, taking the black around her and using it as blank tapestries instead that needed to be painted with the colors of her imaginings. Maybe her tongue had been cut off, maybe she had been gagged, or maybe that was the last scream the girl that must have been no more than fifty feet away from her had ever taken. “What’s your name?” She asked him suddenly, unwilling to continue thinking of him as just a dead man, a shadow, a captor, a stranger. Names were important, and she was without one. Maybe hearing a name would jog hers back into her memory. It was a stretch, a long stretch, but she had to try. “Angel.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Is that your real name?” “Names aren’t real, people are real. I am myself, or I am nothing.” He inclined his head, adding a little more softly, “But you can call me Angel.” She pursed her lips, deciding she wasn’t going to get any better than and reluctantly nodded her head. Angel, she thought to herself. Heavily ironic given that she had woken up with him standing over her, looking down at her. Even more heavily ironic given his scars, for angels were supposed to be beautiful and pure, flying around heaven, playing the harp. “You’re not calling yourself that because you think yourself my savior, do you?” He chuckled again, and the tension lessened, the air became less cold. “No, if that were the case I’d ask you to call me Jesus.” “That would be quite pretentious of you.” “I used to be quite the pretentious fuck.” She chuckled, smiling suddenly. She realized then how much more she preferred to smile, and how much easier it was to do. The difficult part was finding a reason to do so. Maybe that was a reason in of itself. The man in front of her also seemed as inexperienced to amusement as she was. That made her sad. He kept talking about himself in two forms: the person he used to be, and the person he was now. The person he was now was gloomy, realistic, empathetic but blunt. The person he used to be…he didn’t want to talk about the person he used to be. He didn’t give her his name, what had happened to him, anything at all. “I would give you my name,” she told him, genuinely honest, “if I knew it.” He nodded, showing her he understood before simply shrugging and suggesting, “Pick one.” The concept seemed a bit strange to the girl. Give herself a name, just like he had given himself the name Angel for her to use? It just seemed inappropriate to do. If she gave herself a name now, she would be accepting her life as a different person from the one she had been before. She wasn’t ready to give up on that person quite yet. “You’re not going to tell me I shouldn’t make an identity for myself, so that I have less to lose?” her question was dry, and she fully expected him to ignore but instead he smiled again, kinder lines appeared on his face because of the expression, making the corner of his eyes look like crows’ feet. “Good advice. I’ll tell that to the next prisoner.” The sudden fear must have shown on her face because not two seconds afterward, Angel was raising his hand, adding calmingly, “That was a joke.” Oh. She shifted, rolling her shoulders before remarking, “Wasn’t very funny.” “A person loses their social graces in isolation,” that wasn’t funny either but it seemed to make him chuckle either way. “Or in the company of lawless monsters.” That was sad, that was really sad. She wondered about all that he had gone through, why he was here, the person he used to be before. She wanted to know more, she wanted him to tell her more. Mostly, she didn’t want him to leave. “Why are you here? Not,” she elaborated quickly, “here among these people but rather here…in this cell.” “I was sent here. To make sure you were alive, unharmed.” That seemed to surprise her. Someone wanted her unharmed. “Why?” He shook his head. “I may live here, but I’m not privy to every single detail. I’m sorry, I do not know what they intend to do with you.” He seemed genuinely apologetic, so she believed him, to a point. “But you do have theories.” Angel smiled, a genuine smile, she mirrored it so she could see what it felt like again, despite their grim topic of conversation: her fate. “Always and dozens.” “Care to share?” “I’d rather not plague you with nightmares, young girl.” He ascertained her youth again, momentarily feeling as if he was being condescending towards her. It was her future. She thought that meant she had a right to know what he thought that was going to be. “So you have absolutely no idea who I am, or where I came from?” “You certainly ask a lot of questions…” She tilted her head as a confusing emotion passed his eyes and his facial expression. Something reminiscent of affection and caring had crossed his visage, leaving her more confused to the man he was, had been, would be, than before. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing.” Whatever emotion had overcome him was gone with a shake of his head. “You just reminded me of someone.” Memories. They must be such a treasure. She wished she had some, nicer ones that she could focus on the moment he left. Instead, she’d only have this conversation, this small room, and the scream that came from outside for her thoughts to linger on. She shivered again. “Help me,” she pleaded in a quiet voice, moving closer to him. Her eyes were wide again, her shoulders dropping with the renewed vigor of her terror and fear. “Get me out of here.” He looked pained as he shook his head slowly, erasing whatever hope she had of appealing to his selfless and caring nature, if he had one with each shake of his head from left to right and right to left. “I can’t, girl. They’d kill us both.” “You said death would be a kindness,” her eyes were swimming with tears she couldn’t hold back. “They’ll hurt me, like they hurt you, I know it.” “No, not like me…they had no inclination to keep me pretty you see.” All breath left her body in a sudden exhale and yet he continued before gesturing to his face. “They won’t do this to you.” He gestured now to his arms. “Or that. No matter how pretty I told them I was.” “Is that supposed to be another joke?” “Yes.” “You’re awful at this.” He smiled sadly, looking down at the ground and nodding his head. “Yes.” He paused a moment before rubbing a hand over his mouth in a nervous gesture. Again she was catching a glimpse of his humanity and she was reveling in it. “I’ll keep an eye on you. I’ve earned myself decent enough free reign of the grounds. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.” She breathed again, thankful, relieved. “Thank you-“ “Don’t thank me yet, child. If you were brought here as a toy…I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” A toy?! Her chest rose up and down on the implications of that word. Toy, an object, something to be played with and enjoyed before being tossed away by an angry child with a tantrum and a need to have the latest model. “But they’ve had me take a look at you…I don’t expect that to be the case.” “And if you’re wrong?” The silence that came after her question stretched on for what seemed like eternity to her. She could say nothing to fill, do nothing to relieve the uneasiness that had suddenly occupied every available space in the already cramped dark cell. “Then I am sorry.” He stood up, waved his hand again to make the chair he was sitting on disappear and started for the bars. He turned around again. “Girl,” he began softly. “You’re magic. Do you know that?” She frowned before nodding hesitantly. She knew what magic was, she recognized him performing it, recognized the liquid he gave her was a potion and was not frightened as steam had exited out of her nostrils and ears before. “But not the kind of magic they approve of. I don’t know how much you can do without a wand...but don’t try. These cells are spelled to cause immense pain on anyone practices magic inside. That confused her, and she looked up at him. “But you just did. You made the chair disappear, and the vial from before, that disappeared too. You didn’t get hurt.” He nodded; the sad smile was back on his face. “It hurt like a mother-fucker.” She was awed, amazed, and also very scared. “Don’t scream,” he reminded her before he turned around and walked through the bars without opening them, passing as if he were a ghost, or the bars simply smoke. “Will you come back?” she asked suddenly, standing from the cot that protested the movement with a creak. Her legs were unstable and she caught herself before she fell against the side of the wall. “Will you come back to see me? Please?” He lingered outside the bars, unsure of himself, his gaze darting left and right as if he expected someone to suddenly walk in and overhear. Afterwards he just gave a curt nod, and the girl once again breathed in the small relief that offered. He began walking then, his shoes echoing down the dark hallway. She looked up at the small light, the magic ball that kept the cell illuminated. Wondering if that was normal, or if he had simply left it there for her, she crawled back onto the mattress. Head tilting, she only just noticed a lump at the end of the bed for it was as dark as everything else around her. Reaching forward, she picked up what turned out to be a leather jacket. It was incredibly warm to the touch and she instantly shrugged it on before curling in a ball again, trying her best to heed Angel’s advice and not think about anything. She never knew leather could feel so warm.

#chapter seventeen #seriously though i cannot with this story

the longest night; oct 16th, 2027

chapter sixteen;

Nadia: *She wouldn’t think about it, she wouldn’t think about it, that was her mantra. Everything was fine and Devin would give the potion to Alcott and come back and they’d share some ice cream and then maybe steal away to one of the Prefect’s study room. It felt good to have privileges. But first, she needed to come see her friends, make sure they were okay, not up to anything stupid-* Trent? Trent: *He and Nadia almost knocked heads together as she came in to the common room and he was headed out. Grinning hesitantly, he waved at her. His prefect badge was stuck on his belt instead of on his chest, and he was wearing dark jeans and a blue plaid shirt, clearly out of robes.* Hey Nadia. I was just- Nadia: Going somewhere? Yeah, I see that. *Her smile was nearly genuine, or rather as genuine as it could be with such an overwhelming feeling of worry on her mind.* Are you meeting up with someone? Trent: *he cleared his throat, feeling a little guilty from keeping this from Nadia but she was supposed to have spent the evening with Devin, and Irene and Alisha had made him swear…* Not, exactly. Nadia: *Okay, now that was weird. Her eyebrows rose and stayed high as he saw Trent fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. She gasped before she poked him hard.* You’re lying to me! Trent: *He winced, more at being caught in the lie than at the actual poke but it was pretty mighty.* Nadia- Nadia: Traitor! *she grabbed his ear and dragged him away from the entrance, yanking on it to make her point, before tapping on the painted gold badge that sported a very elegantly carved P* You’re supposed to be an example for others! Prefect, remember? And you’re lying to a fellow prefect! Trent: Oww! Bloody fuck, Nadia. *He rubbed his ear and then explained* Sweetie, they made me. Nadia: You’re a prefect! Don’t take that from anyone! Threaten to take away points! Trent: From our own house?! Nadia: Trent, baby, grow a pair. *She frowned, shaking her head, knowing she was acting a little unlike her.* Trent: What crawled up your knickers and bit you in the arse, Nadi? *his eyebrow rise, concerned but also a little bit annoyed—his ear was throbbing and he did have a pair, thank you very much.* It certainly wasn’t Devin, you’d be in a much better mood. Nadia: *She stepped on his toes and then looked toward the direction of the girls’ dormitory, half expecting Alisha and Irene to walk through the huge circle barrel doors* Where’s Alisha and Irene? Trent: *She should really stop hitting him so often- he could bruise and the only thing he had going for him was his flawless skin-* Ah…they’re not here. Nadia: *She frowned and looked back to him, asking curiously* Then where are they? Trent: Promise not to hurt me anymore? Nadia: No promises. Trent: Okay promise not to yell at me? Nadia: I will keep my tone to a dull roar depending on the severity of the offense. Trent: *he repeated that, amused* Severity of the offense? Nadia: I’m gonna be a cop for Halloween, I’ve decided, so I’m practicing. Trent: *He chuckled* Figures. You had one taste of power from being a prefect and now nothing will satisfy you. Nadia: Trent. *she called him back to attention rather patiently in her opinion* Alisha and Irene? Trent: *He swallowed, looking to the ground before he admitted silently* They’re in the Forbidden Forest- Nadia: THEY’RE WHERE?! Trent: With a couple of other people for a party. Nadia: IN THE BLEEDING FORBIDDEN FOREST?! Trent: You said you wouldn’t shout! Nadia: That’s before I realized my friends are stupid in the head and have a psychotic death wish! It’s a fucking full moon! Trent: *surprised* Is it? Nadia: YOU BRAINLESS MORON! HAVE YOU BOTHERED TO DO THE ASTRONOMY HOMEWORK AT ALL?! Trent: There’s a brain up here- Nadia: I can only imagine this was Rene’s idea- *she stomped her foot, frowning, her eyes crowding with tears and bloody hell why did she always to cry?! It was exhausting!* Do they think they’re invincible or on top of the world or immortal, because they’re not! It’s the bloody full moon and they’re out in the Forbidden Forest, a well-known hiding place for them just getting plastered and pissed over cheap alcohol?! Trent: *he spoke hesitantly, unsure of what to make of her friend as her hands started shaking, and a few tears spilled down her eye.* Well, knowing Irene it’s probably not cheap- Nadia: Trent! *her voice was rising, and choking with emotion. She couldn’t risk it, she realized. Even when, when not if she repeated again, Devin got the potion to Al, there could still be other werewolves out there! One with red eyes, and the blond hair matted with blood could be Irene’s or Justin’s or whoever was there.* You’re missing the point, they’re in danger! Trent: Nadia *he put a hand on her shoulder but she quickly shrugged it away; Trent tried not to take it personally* there’ more than a few of them out there, and they won’t be that deep in the forest- Nadia: Deep enough not to get caught by the Professors and that’s all it takes! How could you let them do this?! How could you be heading on your way out to meet them?! Trent! You can fucking drink anywhere you want- Trent: Whoa, Nadi, baby, honey, calm down- Nadia: 10 points from Hufflepuff! *she breathed out suddenly, in a screech. The people around them that had been trying not to listen in to the conversation to no avail given Nadia’s raised and now high pitched voice, but now they certainly paid attention to her now, to groan and boo and hiss.* Trent: Nadia! Nadia: That’s what you do, Trent! When your friends tell you they’re about to go do something stupid, that’s what you do! Use anything you can to keep them from doing it! Now you stay here, I’m going to go bring them back here and God have mercy on their souls if they put up a fight because I’ll keep docking points I swear- Trent: You don’t even know where to look, let me come with you- *in an attempt to calm her down and remind her that the chances of them being killed was pretty slim, he had no idea, not the slightest clue what had gotten Nadia so worked up about this* Nadia: No! Absolutely not! You’re there, all three of you will gang up on me and tell me to relax and offer me drinks and tell me I’m out of my mind and the witless oafs that follow them around like love-struck puppies would only be too happy to agree as long as they can keep drinking alcohol and snogging their girls. Trent: Nadia, you’re acting like a crazy person. Nadia: I’m acting like the only goddamn sane person at this school! Damnit, why does no one believe me? Why does no one –ever- take anything that I say seriously?! *she wiped at her eyes again.* Trent: *he blanched, shaking his head immediately, trying to take another step closer to her.* Nadia, that’s not true- Nadia: I warn and I warn and for what? Only to be dismissed about everything I’ve seen! Even Justin, even after last year he still doesn’t place any faith on my visions! Trent: *This was news to him. He frowned.* What vision, Nadia, what did you see? Nadia: I can’t possibly explain right now- just tell me where they are. Trent: *he hesitated, not thinking Nadia should walk out of the common room and into the forest by herself in this state, she needed to calm down.* Nadia- Nadia: Tell me where they are!! Trent: *he winced, his ears ringing painfully by now to accompany the twisting she had given them earlier, the poke to this chest, and the heeled boot to his little toes.* They’ll be in the forest by the lake, the eastern shore. Nadia: *She nodded, taking the backpack off her shoulders and pushing it onto Trent’s chest, causing him to stumble back a bit and grab it.* I’ll be back with dumb and dumber. Stay here! Trent: Nadia, I really think I should come with you- Nadia: Stay, Trent Daniel Stone or so help me, I will march my way over to Enrique and tell him you want his adopted babies. Trent: *his mouth drops open in surprise, his lips moving but nothing comes out until he composes himself, frowning* That was a joke! Nadia: Based on the very serious fact you fancy him, and I –will- tell him, don’t think for a minute I won’t! Trent: *he frowned and then scoffed, taking Nadia’s backpack and marching off to the boys’ dormitories.* Nadia: *Almost instantly regretting having said anything, her eyes go wide again from the narrowed glare they had been focused on, and she follows after him for a few short seconds.* Trent, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- *she winced as the door swung close, blocking her access. She kicked it, and then muttered an oww while wiping her eyes before going right back out of the common room, after asking everyone if they didn’t have better things to look at. They probably didn’t. She managed to keep her strides to a fast-paced walk, that is, until she hits outside and then she starts running down the sloping green hills, her gaze going up to the setting sun- the set sun. Her heart drops into her stomach, her stomach nearly drops right out of her as she stumbles but she catches herself again before she just keeps going. And going, trying to reach them with enough time. She didn’t care, she wanted them all out of there. All of her stupid, dumb, idiotic friends that she cared about most in the world, she couldn’t have them getting hurt because she couldn’t stop it again. What good was it having this aptitude at Divination if she couldn’t do any good with it? And if anything happened, anything at all, she would only have herself to blame. Nadia wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt, not for a single moment, so better safe than sorry, until she stopped seeing devilish red eyes staring at her with dark intent, until she knew for a fact nothing bad was going to happen. She breathed heavily and pounded her feet on the ground harder, determined to get there soon, as long as she didn’t get lost.*

#chapter sixteen #kasjdflkm emotion #THIS GODDAMN CHAPTER

#the dark ages videos #Q

ofsteelroses

the renaissance: if you could only see the beast you’ve made of me

#book cover #the renaissance

#the dark ages videos #Q

l-o-o-p-y-deactivated20190722

fytherenaissance

fynavin:

enrique ‘ric’ alfonso brackner // rick malambri // ravenclaw (transfer)

birthday: october 2nd, 2011 siblings: rosa brackner, graciela brackner, alisa brackner (three younger sister) parents: sandor brackner, rosalia brackner uncles/aunts: maximillian brackner, lyndsea brackner, harper brackner job: quidditch referee additional: enrique prides himself first on being honest and open, practically being made of confidence since he came out. openly gay now, he had gone through a difficult time in early school; after the third serious fight he was involved in he decided frankly, he just didn’t give a damn anymore what people think about him. he is very protective of his younger sisters acting as a second father to them, and is rather the same around his friends. he loves hanging at the beach, working out frequently, running every day. he surfs and is strong. though he would love to have an actual relationship, he’s never been very prone to settling down and could absolutely never be accused of being too sappy: it’s in part, he likes to joke, why he could never date a girl. he loves sports, but dresses particularly well, not minding the cliche or stereotype in the slightest. he’s transferring to Hogwarts as his father’s job with the ministry is causing them to relocate.

#enrique brackner #character profiles

foolsblood

moderndaychars

Ethan Damocles Faye // Jeremy Irvine // Slytherin Birthday: January 11th, 2010 Job: Unspeakable, The Department of Mysteries. Because yes let’s let Brandin’s son in there too, that’s fantastic. Parents: Brandin Faye & Isobela de Luca [biologically: Catalina Silverhawk] Best Friends: Charlotte Minre (cousin), Devin Stuart, Alcott Brackner, Eliza Simmons, Sophia Faye (cousin) Lynn Rivers (love hate thing. always.), Blair Stone, Alec Stone, Kale Thompson, Jesse Peterson, Sid Price, Sienna West, I refuse to put Sam Roswell; oh! ha, he just…”Acquaintance might be a tad bit presumptuous of him actually but it’s useful for him to consider me as such at times.”…he is so. Brandin’s. child. Siblings: Cameron de Luca/Faye // Hayden Faye Additional: Ethan was under the impression half his life he was Brandin’s first-born son, and because of this has a million expectations on his shoulders: the heir apparent to the vast Faye fortune, influence, power, and least of all—the manor. Except he actually enjoys more just fiddling around with the weird things he finds in locked areas of the house, which his father left open on purpose I’m sure, and is a typical rich-boy sometimes with the fact that he absolutely loves to party. He gets on very well with Devin Stuart, despite the pair having ups and downs the previous year (2027) —as like Alcott, he was not thrilled to hear everything Dev yelled about purebloods. They are very similar in the respect of discussing Dark Arts in a purely theoretical manner — and you know, can scare me half to death with this.

He is very close to Isobel despite her not being his biological mother—however he also refuses to hear a bad word about Cat, and defends her in school. He only has a few memories of Catalina being around, since he was very young before the divorce, but he knows that he loved and still loves her very much. Growing up with a split house has had it’s affect nonetheless: Ethan has a usually cold demeanor to any not close to him and prefers to keep to himself most of the time. He really enjoys talking people in nine circles. To those he is close too, he’s actually a nice guy. He tries to protect his brothers, and loves them dearly and looks up to his older brother. But of his family members, those he is closest with is easily his father: he respects Brandin, and since he was born Brandin has been his primary caregiver (#because he was concerned he’d be like his father and was determined to prove him wrong) — and as such, Ethan & Brandin have been very close since birth. Brandin is one of the only people Ethan will say “I-love-you” too, even if it’s under typical guy-father-son weird rules.

Ethan also was named for Damocles, and has a fascination with the past and learning the truth of it: his father, and honorary aunt rebecca & uncle rowland, tell him the most interesting stories. Ethan has a rebellious attitude and is not afraid to use it. He sometimes gets in trouble just for the hell of it, but never enough that it will effect his family. Ethan also enjoys a good party every now again, as a way to forget his troubles, and the large messed up confusing family for awhile.

#ethan faye #character profiles

maybellinemagic

reid jackson morris // columbus short // ravenclaw birthdate: september 20, 2011 parents: wesley and prudence morris siblings: thomas, matthew, and whitney morris girlfriend: alisha stone best friend: justin hall. he’s also really close with irene burns, trent stone, nadia tudor, and chace tudor, as well as some other unnamed ravenclaws from their year. but reid is an…acquired taste to say the least. he has a lot of acquaintances, and quite a number of ex-girlfriends, but doesn’t have many people he would call friends. job: professional stuntman. Additional: reid is blunt and honest and can be rather insensitive at times, a fact that makes him rather difficult to get along with at certain times though he always has the best intentions at heart even if they don’t seem that way. he’s the oldest of his siblings and consequently has a natural overprotectiveness over his loved ones. reid can also get quite possessive- do not try and take something away from him that he’s claimed as “his” because he will fight for it tooth and nail. reid is also incredibly gifted when it comes to academics, and only has certain problems with charms that he does not admit to; he claims charms is pointless anyhow. yet for all his intellectual capacity, what reid really wants to do is be a professional stuntman. he’s such an adrenaline junkie, and if he could do something dangerous and potentially fatal and get paid for it he would feel like the luckiest guy alive. reid and alisha started hanging out when their mutual friends irene and justin were getting together. both feeling like a pair of third wheels, they studied and did homework, talked and chatted, wrestled and played, and ‘helped alisha practice snogging’ to the point they started falling for each other. alisha was hesitant though, as well as inexperienced whereas reid was the complete opposite yet he didn’t want to pressure her. he surprised her this summer by asking to meet giselle and ‘get her permission to date alisha’. giselle was slightly impressed, and alisha was more than slightly giddy and after a few dates asked her to be his girlfriend. they’re cute together, and she instantly makes him into a decent person that is capable of normal, sensible, and amiable human interaction! xd

TDA/Renaissance

#character profiles #reid morris

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maybellinemagic

Trish Witte // Lauren London // Ravenclaw

Parents: Gerald and Zoe Witte Siblings: None Birthdate: September 13, 2011 Job: Spell Inventor Ex-boyfriend: Reid Morris Friends: Justin, Reid, Trent, Chace, Aaron, Blake, Nick, Will, Jacob…..I’m spying a trend here XD Additional: Trish doesn’t tend to get along well with the female gender. She can be a bit stuck-up, because she thinks she’s fabulous and anybody who doesn’t agree is simply too blind to notice. She’s an only child, and her parents spoil her with anything she wants, so she’s used to having things her way. Trish loves all girly things: jewelry, make-up, clothing, shoes, nail-polish, you name it, but this girl is at the top of her class in almost every subject, the exception being Care of Magical Creatures which she intends to drop after this year immediately. She wants to become a professional spell inventor, having already come up with a few spells herself. She enjoys singing, rapping, shopping, dressing up, dancing, drinking and snogging. She’s also known for wearing a purity ring…and when asked if she’s a virgin she asks a person to define the term.

Renaissance.

#character profiles #trish witte

mizzchelsealynn

hynextgenbabies

daniella jade faye // phoebe tonkin // slytherin

birthday: february 5th, 2006 siblings: remy faye; emilie, zak, blaze & sosie baptiste; noah, dylan & lila faye parents: tiger jane-cecile baptiste, ryan faye family members: sophia, ethan, and hayden faye, anya & drew noel-carter (cousins); abi noel-carter, isobela faye, jeyne dale (aunts); brandin faye, parker faye, tristan carter (uncles) job: publicity agent; volunteers at an orphanage, which she considers her real job social: her best friend is amalie avenier; she met her in france growing up at the flat with her father; daniella doesn’t really make close friends easily. she tends to like driving them away and amalie gets her to open up when she doesn’t want to. she’s also closest to noah, lila, dylan, and remy of her siblings.

she has had a lot of “boyfriends”; in hogwarts particularly she always had a lot of guys around her. she was considered one of the guys half the time except she wore low-cut shirts and tight mini skirts and heels and didn’t give a damn. she lost her virginity at sixteen to one of them after a quidditch party except in reverse style; she didn’t call him afterwards and he ended up following her like a puppy for a while. she does have a few guy friends still from school, but as far as love goes—she’s still looking. additional: loves shopping, clubbing, dining out, surrounding herself with famous and influential people so she can manipulate them into donating to her orphanage/other things, her flat, she was captain of the slytherin quidditch team, and is completely her father’s daughter when it comes to her magical ability and expressions at times. she speaks both french and english fluently, and is very good at getting other people to do work for her, or people to do things just so she’ll like them. [she’s also a big fan/supporter of millie/joaquin.]

daniella has a lot of internal strength; she’s self-motivated and independent, and has an incredibly hard time depending on anyone else. her family is sprawled out across the globe, and while she loves each of them and would always be there if they needed her, because of their size she isn’t incredibly close to any of them.

in part that’s because simply of the way she grew up. she was raised for the first five years of her life by the sister of the late ben danvers, who told her ben was her father. then the sister dumped her off at the ministry of magic not long before her fifth birthday, with the name of her that was her real father: ryan faye. on top of this she already knew her mother was tiger baptiste, but she was told neither of them cared and had given her up.

through a series of meetings, four-year old daniella was reunited with her father, learning in the process that not only had her parents always loved her, they had believed her dead. reunited with them, she was quickly swept up in a whirlwind of family members: she went from having no family members to eight siblings, parents and aunts and uncles all of whom loved her. the entire family was together for a few years, living happily in France in a house on the beach.

but daniella picked up at a young age that while her parents loved all of them and each other with all of their heart; they were ill-suited towards any kind of long term relationship. as she grew up she learned the reasons behind this: that her mother, to keep them safe, continued to work as a death-eater until Voldemort was defeated, and following this the death eaters continue to be so terrified of tiger they do whatever she says/that her father had left the Death Eaters after crises of conscience and her brother remy’s conception. this led their family to being in constant strife and danger, for both the aurors and death eaters wanted her father.

she was seven when her parents split, and went to live with her father in france. he was initially against this as he believed it was his being a target that put the family in such danger. but…daniella was always stubborn, tiger adamant that all of the children make their own choice and continue to know each other.

so dani, after a little over two years living with the entire family, stayed with her father in france. this was partially also just because she always had been french and was more comfortable there than in england. it also was because she knew what her mother was still doing, and while she loved her, she didn’t want to be around it. she went to hogwarts however, sorted into slytherin; her aunt abi made sure the documents were in order, having claimed guardianship of her niece. however then when she was thirteen, she was emancipated legally: the court was astonished when she went before them for her legal rights, pointing out that both her parents were criminals and when they asked her where she’d been living, when not at school she responded truthfully “With my father. Want to speak with him?”

At which point Ryan entered the room, and they promptly sent the documents through.

Emancipation was what Daniella wanted for two reasons. First, she loved her Aunt Abi, but she didn’t live with her and she knew well enough the strife between Uncle Tris and her father; she felt responsible for little tiffs between her aunt and uncle. But more importantly, Daniella has felt her whole life as she learned everything her parents did and were responsible for conflicted. On the one hand she feels responsible: she knows it was her faked-death that caused her mother to lose her mind and kill thirty-two people; knows this was what caused her father to be driven into the arms of Voldemort. She loves her parents, loves her siblings and cousins, and she would do anything to protect them—and she can’t deny her internal inclination and talents at dark spells. She’s manipulative, entitled, and strong.

But on the other hand, Daniella has a sweet heart underneath all that heart, and she is not all right with either the deaths in her name or the name of protection—and she is not okay with her family’s past. She adores her family history as her uncle Brandin tells it, but of her uncles it’s Parker she’s closest with. She argued even at twelve and thirteen with her father from the moment she went to Hogwarts and learned everything, and while Ryan was always honest with her and equally honest about his own remorse—she wanted to live on her own, even at this young age, wanted to make a name for herself away from the family. Ryan, after arguments, finally agreed to let her do it—recognizing in her every bit of Tiger’s fire, and her aunt Abi’s heart. This was the first time Daniella ever saw her father cry. And she didn’t know what was going on, but she let him drag her into his arms and made him assure her they were “happy tears,” before he assured her they were.

She moved into her own apartment in the summer of her fourth year at Hogwarts with an allowance from the Faye family fortune, but she quickly got a job working as a shop assistant in Paris as well. She was eventually promoted to manager, and then put in the publicity department over the summer.

When she turned fifteen, she accepted guardianship of her younger siblings Noah, Lila, and Dylan, who were each eleven and just started Hogwarts. They wanted to stop living from house to house with their mother, wanted to settle and it was always the three of them she felt closest too anyway. The four of them moved into a new house. It was small, one floor, but it was their own, paid for themselves. This was the first time since she was little that Daniella had her siblings around her so often, and it was a bit of a rocky beginning…but eventually, they’ve all ended up closest with that.

Her best friend Amalie went to Hogwarts with her year but was in ravenclaw, and was the only girl who stuck around her long enough to remain friends with her initially abrasive attitude. Amalie is in many ways the opposite of Daniella: she has a small family, tight and was half-blood. she also favored kindness to bitchiness…but she looked up to this girl Dani, who had a lot of the self-confidence Amalie desired. Where Dani taught Amalie to be brave, Amalie taught her to be kind <3.

Daniella is a force to be reckoned with. She isn’t afraid to go after anything she wants, is self-reliant, and proud to be a Faye.

#daniella faye #character profiles

catmonocles-blog

maybellinemagic

Trent Daniel Stone // Luke Grimes // Hufflepuff Birthdate: July 18, 2012 Parents: Cedric and Zora Stone Siblings: Isis and Jeremiah Stone. Cousins: A downright multitude. A plethora, a sea of them. But, the one relevant to this story is Alisha Stone. Best Friends: Alisha Stone, Irene Burns, Nadia Tudor, Justin Hall, Reid Morris, and Chace Tudor. He also knows almost everybody in the school so he’s on speaking terms with most of them, and he’s always amiable and up for a good chat/gossip. Job: Psychologist. Additional: Trent is the only wizard in his immediate family and currently the only gay out of the closet at Hogwarts, and consequently he deals with judgments and insults on a regular basis. He tries not to let it get to him, but he has his off days. Which, in reality, was almost the last three months of last year but he’s a good actor and pretended otherwise. Trent is charming, amiable, selfless, and kind. In addition, he’s naturally outspoken, and he doesn’t quite have a filter. He says whatever immediately comes to mind, no matter the nature of the outburst. Yet shockingly, he’s also very zen- he’s not active at all, more relaxed and laid-back and dislikes almost all sports and positively cannot understand Quidditch. Also, Trent has a love of gossip- he’s Hogwarts own personal grapevine. Trent attributes it to his love of people watching. He sometimes designs clothes for fun, though it’s more of a hobby than anything, and is always willing to help Irene, Alisha and Nadia out whenever they’re in need of some clothing advice. Those three are his rock, and he loves and cherishes more than he could ever admit. They’ve all helped him through some pretty tough situations, and he feels blessed to be their friend. His own words- he’s the Bosley to their Charlie’s Angels.

TDA/Renaissance.

#trent stone #character profiles

mshathaways-blog

maybellinemagic

alisha penelope stone // briana evigan // hufflepuff birthdate: september 16, 2011 biological parents: joseph and rita stone actual parental figure/aunt: giselle stone datingboyfriend: reid morris best friends: irene burns, nadia tudor, and trent stone. she’s also become really close friends with reid and justin in the past school year after three years of just being casual friends and it’s how her and reid got to know each other and eventually got together the summer before their 5th year. job: dancer for a hip hop dance company additional: she’s technically the great great great grand niece of rowland, though once he comes to the future, giselle told alisha to just refer to him as uncle and considers alec and blair her cousins. giselle gained full custody of alisha when alisha turned five because her parents were ‘unstable’. neither she or giselle elaborate further on what that means. she’s been dancing hip hop since she was little and with help from irene, coordinated a full house dance routine for the hufflepuff vs slytherin match at the end of their 4th year. she likes to wear a lot of eye-make up, and has a couple of tattoos. her favorite article of clothing is definitely her fish net stockings and loves to show off her dancing skills.

TDA/Renaissance

#alisha stone #character profiles

carmineroyals

fytherenaissance

fyabi:

rory prescott palmer // zach roerig // gryffindor

birthday: december 1st, 2011 girlfriend: eliza simmons parents: chester and addison palmer job: cook (but…don’t tell anyone) best friend: dillon senzio, ari senzio, irene burns, a few other gryffindor guys (acquainted with chace tudor and alphonse grey). additional: rory loves a good laugh more than anything; he grew up the edge of a southern country town, just fifteen minutes off where dillon’s family’s farm is. he met dillon when he rode his bicycle out there and near fell off (to hear dillon tell the story anyway) when ari ran into the middle of the street to try and give him a leaflet to come to the play she was putting on that evening (all of age eight at the time). when dillon ran out after her, rory decided he’d like to go, mostly so as not to hurt ari’s feelings, and ended up hanging over at dillon’s farm all the time; they consider him an adopted member of the family. as an only child, rory loves spending time with dillon’s gigantic family, and dillon loves getting peace and quiet at rory’s house. rory is of the mentality that everyone should get along, but has a certain limit on it, with the end of the line being his fist. he tends to be laid back, and isn’t particularly…overly, intelligent, but what he lacks in book smarts he makes up for in his general demeanor: rory is a good guy, genuinely sweet, helpful, and even a bit shy—though he tends to have an overly friendly attitude when you first meet him to get over that. he loves sports (in particular rugby, as he plays on summer holidays), good food, and good company more than anything; he doesn’t think of himself as that complicated of a guy, nor that eloquent with words. he fumbled around trying to ask eliza out, getting caught up in prejudices he wasn’t aware he had and got quickly over, and now he’s pretty much accepted everyone….with the exception, that is, of sam silverhawk (and victoria by extension). rory is a bit alpha-male protective by nature, and he…would love nothing so dearly as to punch sam if he comes within two feet of eliza again. on a more cheerful note, rory loves to cook—his mum is a dreadful cook and his dad even worse, so from a young age he started preparing his own meals. he can spend whole hours in the kitchen, making utterly delicious dishes, but the only people that really know that are dillon and now eliza, as it isn’t something he spreads around. he drinks at parties, has tried smoking once or twice “with the guys,” but doesn’t make a habit of either, preferring to experience life through it’s “natural filter” as he puts it. he kind of just goes with the flow, and loves to smile more than anything.

#character profiles #rory palmer

rinoatimber-deactivated20110113

maybellinemagic

fyabi:

miranda ‘sienna’ west // alison brie // slytherin

birthday: october 27th, 2011 parents: miranda west, benjamin west it’s complicated with: alcott brackner job: editor of a magazine best friend(s): eliza simmons, devin silverhawk, charlotte minre, caroline minre, victoria stenrosa. additional: sienna is very proud and secretive; she’s proud of her pureblood name and hates when things mess up something she wanted. she goes by sienna, despite the fact that her first name is miranda, because she doesn’t want to go by the same name as her mother—whom she can’t stand (and she still won’t tell me why). she lives in heels, dresses and pearls, but she’s a devil underneath and actually rather..adventurous in the bedroom and otherwise; she’s just too proper to show as much. she believes what she was told, that she’s superior due to her bloodline, but she is too socially graceful and manipulative to often admit as much. she still misses alcott, but ever since learning he’s a werewolf, she’s begun getting over him as she knows she cannot cope with that; she can’t cope with a crup. at the moment, she is in between groups and friends, very confused as to what she believes and who she is anymore. she is a master chess player, loves gossip and fashion magazines, and is incredibly smart when it comes to political manuevers. she always grew up wanting to be the wife of a politician, but when she got older, she realized she’d love to be an editor too—since she can’t be a dictator.

TDA/Renaissance.

#sienna west #character profiles

lostiel

maybellinemagic

Nicholas “Nick” Maxwell Callaway // Penn Badgley // Ravenclaw Birthdate: November 1, 2009 Parents: Roger Callaway and Clarissa Wilson Siblings: Jesse and Kristen Callaway Nephew: Henry “Champ” Callaway Girlfriend: Lynn Rivers Best Friends: A group of unnamed guys and girls from Cali, plus Hols Graft, Nadia Tudor, Irene Burns, Xandra Cisinerros, Jacob and Will. He also knows Justin Hall and Reid Morris. Job: Curator for the Smithsonian American History Museum. *barfs* Additional: Nick transferred into Hogwarts last year, after the winter holidays after moving from California to England with his father after his parent’s nasty divorce. See, Nick is a family man, and during the school-year goes home to Cali which is eight hours behind to check on his mom, brother, sister and nephew. But despite the drastic change in countries, Nick fit in rather quickly, being pretty popular in the beginning for his accent. He wasn’t popular with McGonogall, however, and always ends up in trouble with her. Nick is a beach boy, he grew up always twenty minutes from the beach, and growing up in Cali, knows how to surf. Nick is smart, witty, funny, easy to talk to, fun to be around, and a real sweetheart who always tries to help when he can. It was with his help that Nadia was able to pass History of Magic her fourth year with her highest grade in the glass ever, and Nadia maintains she’ll owe him big time. Confident and smooth, his perseverance and charming ways caught the eye of the difficult-to-impress Lynn Rivers. Now the pair are in a serious relationship that just continues to grow and grow, and he’s never been happier with anyone else.

TDA/Renaissance.

#nick callaway #character profiles

darkishuniverse-deactivated2013

maybellinemagic

fyabi:

lynn felicity stuart rivers // emma stone // gryffindor

birthday: september 1st, 2010 boyfriend: nick callaway siblings: devin stuart parents: jana rivers, shane stuart job: artist/private investigator. don’t ask me. best friends: hols graft, lila faye, nadia tudor, irene burns, eliza simmons, rory palmer. enemy: alcott brackner. (ohformerlinsakeslynn!) additional: lynn is fierce, fiesty, and fun. at least, that’s how she describes herself. lynn is reckless, passionate, and fun-loving with a determination level that scares most people. very proud of her red hair (and chest), she also constantly wears heels—hating trousers, trainers, and anything that isn’t original. she can drink with the best of them, loves having a good time, and is rather experimental. her reputation aside, she is technically still a virgin (i give that til halloween at max) although her and nick…well there’s a reason the ship name is “lyck.” she’s very bright, and incredibly good at chess, having more the mentality of a general than a civilian any day. she is fond of approaching things as if it’s a war, in love with codes and codebreaking, secret names, and taking down her enemies (in heels). she is a gryffindor chaser, recent quidditch champion, and she is a bit of a film buff. she can paint and draw exceedingly well, and has a weak spot for cherry lollipops. she loves amusement parks, trying new things, and dislikes cowardice or disloyalty, and anyone who insults her family (namely, Brackner). she tends to really commit to revenge and vengeance, as she is under the false impression that her mother killed Damien—but that it was totally justified (as to that i have no objection) and as such her morals are a little bit twisted. she doesn’t ever want to kill someone, but provided they were attacking her family (that includes hols and nadia and others) and “deserved it,” she would (god i have to fix this). her heart however, is in the right place at the end of the day. when she gets bothered by something, she goes for a flight and just tries to forget about it. she has a serious mouth (and the tendency to be a hypocrite). though in some ways her brother and her could not be more different, at the end of the day lynn would take her brother’s side over anything—even if she’s yelling at the top of her lungs at him herself, which she has done. she also throws a hell of a punch.

TDA/Renaissance.

#lynn rivers #character profiles

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