❝ godsforsakcn.

[godsforsakcn]

𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐜𝐧, a dependent mumu for @fangtv written lovingly (and sometimes loathingly) by kayla — she/her, est.

↳ 𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐒 — ( julia dalavia ) 28. witch. lafleur native. intro + connections • threads • character study • pinterest

[ofsinner]

location :  crimson peak .

garden  shears  rested  loosely  in  one  hand  as  she  knelt  among  the  crimson  blooms,  carefully  trimming  away  dead  branches  before  gathering  the  healthy  ones  into  a  basket  at  her  feet.  the  afternoon  air  carried  the  scent  of  rain  and  rosewater,  the  same  delicate  fragrance  that  seemed  forever  woven  into  her  skin,  broken  only  by  the  soft  crunch  of  footsteps  along  the  gravel  path  behind  her.

without  looking  up,  a  small  smile  found  her  lips.  ❝  I  was  beginning  to  wonder  if  I'd  have  company  today.  ❞  she  plucked  another  rose,  turning  the  bloom  thoughtfully  between  her  fingers  before  finally  lifting  her  gaze.   ❝  to  what  do  I  owe  the  pleasure ?  ❞ 

[godsforsakcn]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐃 was what you put in the ground. Unless, of course, you were a lavish estate with ample space and fertile grounds, all prettily perched atop a labyrinth of catacombs. In that case, Iara supposed, you were a little bit of both—Which is exactly why she found herself there rather than any of the commercial nurseries across the three nearest towns. 

From the blazing sun above to the ink dark soil below, Crimson Peak uniquely straddled the line between life and death and that was precisely the key to what she needed. At least, so she hoped. 

In the next moment slim, paint flecked fingers delved into her back pocket and then re-emerged with a neatly folded square of paper. Iara handed it down, allowing enough time for her to consider the request penned upon its single page, before she spoke. 

“If you can spare a few, of course.” She’d already seen that the particular breed of rose she sought grew on Amara’s land, but whether or not she’d be willing to part with them was another story. From what she understood, the blooms were rare, temperamental, and, above all else, pricey. "The stems would need to be freshly cut, and the thorns left intact." Especially since it was those, even more so than the petals, she was after.  

[morsplacida]

 ›     𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬   :    open.          𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛   :  last  stop.

          it  was  obvious,  if  you  looked  for  it  .  the  way  that  callie's  eyes  had  started  to  glaze  over  ,  nails  tapping  lightly  against  the  bar  as  the  length  of  her  attention  span  got  tested  .  she  couldn't  even  tell  ,  at  this  point  ,  the  source  of  the  aggravation.  it'd  started  off  with  someone  hogging  the  jukebox  ,  she  knew  that  much  ,  but  it'd  turned  into  something  about  pickles  on  a  burger  and  now  she  wasn't  sure  if  they  were  recalling  an  episode  of  spongebob  or  was  truly  looking  for  her  do  something  .  “  right  ,  yeah  ,  ”  intones  lowly  ,  someone  shifting  in  the  corner  of  her  eye  giving  her  all  the  out  that  she  needed  .  “  give  me  one  sec  .  ”  a  shift  down  the  bar  ,  dark  hues  landing  on  the  next  person's  .  “  hey  ,  sorry  for  the  wait  .  what'll  you  have  ?  ”       

[godsforsakcn]

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐘 around the bottle neck of a beer, Iara's tactics weren't so much a plea for service as they were an act of mercy taking shape one wide eyed stare-down and cleared throat at a time. She didn't need anything yet, not really, but it didn't take a mind reader ( or a psychic ) to recognize maybe Callie did.

"You can grab me another one of these if you wanna sell it"—her nearly full drink tipped into the other's line of sight before she pressed its rim to her lips—"but really I was just tryin' to give you an out." The same kind she wished someone would be around to give her whenever she found herself facing down yet another disgruntled guest at Lafleur's one and only, barely habitable motel.

"One more second of that conversation and I honestly couldn't tell if you were about to crawl into your own grave... or push him into his."

[godsforsakcn]

location: his house, middle of the night

status: closed for luca st. mercy / @d3c4yd

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, time began to warp and fold over on itself until the seconds stretched for what felt like hours and an entire hour passed quicker than a blink. It wasn't her first experience with such a disorienting bend and snap of reality. Hell, it wasn't even her second. Or her third. And, just like all those other nights before, Iara found herself where she always did...

Not at her own home, curled small and tight in her own bed, but barefoot and haphazardly dressed in front of Luca St. Mercy's front door. 

Even though her knuckles were blanched white around two clamped fists, she didn't knock. Iara never knocked. She didn't need to because she knew he'd find her anyway. Not because she'd had some prophetic vision of it, but because it was him. Luca always found her when she needed him.

Which is why she took three slow steps back, then a few more, until her knees gave up and she found her usual seat on the steps.

It might've only been a minute that she sat there, eyes closed, head tipped to the heavens, and cradling an unlit cigarette. Then again, maybe it was ten, or ten thousand. Either way, she clocked a near silent pad of feet across weathered porch boards eventually and, in turn, a soft and tired smile spill crookedly across her lips.

"Sorry." Iara's apology was just another beat, another step, to this now familiar song and dance. Shifting over just enough to make space for two, she sought his face in the dark and murmured, "Were you already sleeping?"

[sherotten]

𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡   𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥   𝗙𝗢𝗥   :    𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦   𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘹    [    accepting    0 / 4    replies    ] 𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡    :   𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳   𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴

sitting  in  the  back  of  after  hours  ,  carnelian  orbs  focus  upon  the  beer  in  front  of  him  .  it's  not  often  he  has  a  day  or  two  off  and  when  he  does  ?  he  truly  has  no  idea  where  he's  supposed  to  go  .  fingertips  trace  the  steam  upon  his  glass  ,  the  temperature  in  the  bar  unusually  warm  .  the  werewolf  would  much  rather  like  to  work  at  last  stop  than  have  days  off  ,  but  he  knew  quite  well  that  being  there  all  the  time  would  be  suspicious  .  a  sigh  escapes  strained  lips  and  hand  quickly  pulls  the  glass  closer  .  a  swig  is  taken  and  mind  keeps  rushing  .  the  young  werewolf  is  unaware  of  watchful  eyes  and  soon  enough  they  clash  with  his  new  companion  .  "  there's  more  free  seats  ,  but  i  can  go  somewhere  else  if  you'd  like  the  booth  .  "

[godsforsakcn]

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐒, the room around her became clearer. Glasses raised. Mouths laughed. And there, in the middle of it all, stood a group of onlookers, jaws slack and stares transfixed as they bore witness to a dancer moving atop a small platform faster than any normal eye could track.

Like that, Iara knew exactly where she was. She just wasn't sure how she got there.

Her palms went clammy. Her pulse lurched into a sprint. Without thinking, she veered sharply right and all but dropped like a lead balloon onto the seat of the nearest booth. That it was already occupied barely registered before she was already reaching across toward a sweating glass of... something.

That moment—the one where trembling fingertips nearly made contact with the condensation dripping down someone else's drink—was when she finally stilled. Completely. It was only a set of wide, unblinking eyes that dared to break rank and lift, higher and higher still until both their gazes clashed.

"Sorry"—for all of it, and especially what she was about to ask—"but do you mind?" Almost imperceptibly her fingers twitched toward the glass again, neither claiming it nor pulling back.

[godsforsakcn]

   ✞   𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

𝕒 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕪 𝕚𝕟 ⸻ visions arriving in pieces instead of answers, charcoal smudged across trembling fingertips, bayou water swallowing whispered prayers, inherited gifts that feel suspiciously like punishments, sleeping beside someone whose ghosts are louder than your own, the slow unraveling of certainty, cracked porcelain coffee mugs left on a porch railing, silver rings passed from doomed mother to doomed daughter, seeing far too much and never enough, a paint-streaked knee wedged between ink kissed thighs, family trees watered with sacrifice, linseed oil and candle wax, muddy footprints leading to places you swore you'd never been, knowing exactly where home is and refusing to call it by its name. ⸻ 𝕚𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕕𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕤.

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

↳ threads · character study · pinterest

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

↳ STAY ALIVE by nessa barrett

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬.

↳ full name: iara beatriz gonçalves de santos ; first name meaning: lady of the water ; nicknames: some close to her use ara, ari, or yari in conversation · iarinha by her family ; gender: cis female ; pronouns: she / her ; age: 28 ; birthday: november 6th ; zodiac sign: scorpio sun, taurus moon, sagittarius rising ; hometown: lafleur, louisianna ; length of time in residence: entire life ; occupation: front desk at the crossroads motel, occasional fill ins at the black moon botanica

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 

↳ faceclaim: julia dalavia ; ethnicity: (white) brazilian ; height: 5’4” ; hair: dark brunette, cropped short above the shoulders ; eye color: chocolate brown ; notable scars: thin, small lines across her left palm ; tattoos and piercings: tattoos, here · a small gold hoop in her navel · both nipples · right ear · left ear

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 

↳ positive traits: intuitive, grounded, fiercely loyal, creative, courageous, resilient, adaptable ; negative traits: blunt, impulsive, obsessive, self-sacrificing, stubborn, guarded, restless, guilt-ridden ; likes: oil paints and charcoal, homemade pão de queijo and strong espresso, stargazing from the porch on humid nights, thunderstorms and the quiet that follows, flea markets and antique stores, live music, cut off shirts, butterflies, candlelight, the color orange ; dislikes: being told "everything happens for a reason" or to "trust fate", green peas, clocks ticking in otherwise silent rooms, someone touching her sketches and paintings without permission, feeling rushed ; MBTI: istp - the virtuoso ; enneagram: 6w7 - the loyal skeptic moral alignment: neutral good

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬.

↳ father: davi silva de santos - estranged ; mother: helena correa gonçalves - missing, presumed dead ; siblings: one older sister ( open WC ) ; children: none ; sexual orientation: heterosexual ; relationship status: it's complicated ; current partner: a situationship with luca st. mercy ; previous partner(s): tbd

𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞.

↳ species: witch ; magical focus: divination in all its forms with a predilection for scrying · spell casting · protection charms ; unique abilities: precognition manifesting through prophetic dreams and varying mastery of clairvoyance (clear seeing), clairsentience (clear feeling), clairalience (clear smelling), and claircognizance (clear knowing)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

tw: curses and untimely demises as a consequence · mentions of death by burning, murder, and suicide · mention of being committed, against ones will implied

↳ Iara comes from a long line of witches exceptionally skilled in all things divination but once upon a time, many generations ago, one ancestor demanded answers to a question the universe didn’t want her to know. She was bestowed with the gift of true sight… and simultaneously cursed to lose her life to it and all the madness it wrought in return.

↳ As the story goes, every second daughter from that point forth would also be both blessed and burdened with the same fate. One died at the hands of her closest neighbors and friends when they decided they'd rather see her burn than believe her warnings. Another took her own life by the blade of an heirloom boline. Her avó was committed to an asylum for her fight against sanity, her mother merely wandered off into the bayou one day and never returned.

↳ Now, Iara herself is the second daughter of a second daughter’s second daughter and from the moment she drew breath it's as if her family began mourning her inevitable demise. Yes, they eagerly anticipated and praised whatever revelations she was sure to see and bring forth, but at a distance. Their love has always felt transactional. More fervent devotion to a vessel harboring great gifts, less affection and closeness toward their own kin. Due to her own mother's shattered grasp on reality and her eventual disappearance, she was mostly raised by multiple generations of aunts.

↳ Growing up, despite all evidence pointing toward more fact than fiction, she never really bought into the stories or the certainty that she, too, bore the curse. To Iara, there were plenty of other reasons to explain the previous misfortunes of her ancestors. Recent developments have left her questioning if she was right to dismiss it so easily. If, maybe, she should’ve taken it to heart.

↳ What started as misplaced belongings and forgotten promises has slowly escalated in the last few years. Friends spotting her around town at places she swears she hasn't been. Waking up with a crust of dried mud at her ankles, footprints leading from the door, and no memory of leaving. Notes she doesn't remember writing, paintings she doesn't remember finishing, whole conversations she can't recall a word of even if others can.

↳ Little by little it all adds up and paints a worrisome picture: either the curse upon her bloodline is real, she's just not sleeping nearly enough to function, or someone out there is taking advantage of a family's fears and she's found herself tangled up in their twisted games to whatever end they're after.

↳ As if that weren't enough to contend with, there's the undeniable fact that she has inherited once in a generation gifts. Unlike her ancestors, however, Iara's overwhelmingly vast talents aren't quite as clear. Future events come to her in circles, wandering and often out of order, rather than leading her down a straightforward path. She can see, but rarely can she make her visions and flashes of feelings make sense. At least when it comes to anything beyond minor misfortunes, sudden strokes of good luck, or unwelcome turns in the weather.

↳ The only way she knows how to piece together the premonitions that feel as if they matter is by putting brush to canvas, or pencil to page, but when time is of the essence the process becomes a little more than inconvenient. Case in point: although she didn't know it at the time, Iara saw that Annie Mae Boudreaux would take her last breath months in advance. She just didn't realize what she was seeing until after the girl's body was found, bloodless and cold. Guilt ridden and frustrated beyond comprehension, Iara's left wondering what good is her gift if she can't even use it to make a difference?

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

↳ She's known to absentmindedly sketch on napkins, receipts, and any scrap of paper (or even skin) within reach, pause mid-conversation and leave sentences unfinished, forget cups of coffee until they've gone cold, and misplace literally everything.

↳ Is almost always accessorized with flecks of paint or charcoal smudges in some odd area or another. She couldn't keep herself clean whenever a vision begins taking shape across canvas or sketchbook page if her life depended on it. Because of this she tends to wear a lot of shorts and cropped shirts ( less fabric to stain ), whether they came that way or were transformed into such by a pair of scissors in her hand.

↳ Even though her family owns the Black Moon Botanica in town she chooses to work at the Crossroads Motel, instead, because it provides her a small escape from the weight of her family's watchful gaze, expectations, and emotional distance.

↳ Her family is vast and largely matriarchal. Those in her direct line always took lovers, not life partners, because what was the point? Even those not predestined to reach an early demise lean toward a heavy preference for company and conquests rather than true commitment. As much as she'd like to say it hasn't shaped her, she's always had a habit of falling into relationships with those she knows she can't fully have, or that will never last.

↳ For similar reasons, and simply as a byproduct of circumstance, she's always had a relatively small social circle. Half of that is thanks to other children on the playground finding her a bit off-putting—what with the vacant stares, nonsensical warnings, and annoying ability to predict when they'd answer wrong in front of the class—but the rest is at least half by choice. Even if Iara swears she's never believed in the curse she's subconsciously operated with "the less who love me, the less who will mourn" mindset.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

↳ older sister ( open wc · 30+ · witch · must be at least half white brazilian ) - given the women in their family's tendency to choose lovers over life partners, i'm open to them being half siblings vs full. dynamic to be discussed together, but i do imagine there's at least a little tension between them. on the sister's part, because iara is the "chosen one" whose gifts receive so much adoration and praise, and on iara's part because she's lowkey jealous they don't live under the same scrutiny and pressure to perform.

↳ ride or die best friend ( open · femme presenting ) - though she's arguably close with all of her true friends, i see iara having always had two that stood apart from the rest— luca st. mercy, and this character. most of the time she probably feels more like a sister to iara than her actual sister does. they know everything about each other (even those things they wish they didn't know) and would walk through hell for the other even if it's just to offer a hand to hold.

↳ league of degenerates ( open to all · 0/4 taken) - whether it's just because they clicked or because they didn't fit in anywhere else, this is the rest of iara's friend group. despite any of their differences, questionable pizza topping choices, and arguable flaws they're thick as thieves and always have each other's backs.

↳ it's complicated ( taken by luca st. mercy ) - from their earliest years luca has always been iara's best friend and once of her closest confidantes. where one went, the other followed. through all the ups and all the downs it stayed that way, too, until roughly a year ago. what started off as a single drunken night in bed has turned into a full blown situationship—one neither has even remotely tried to label or seek commitment in out loud. the feelings are there, but so is the fear. fear that maybe it could be something real if they let it, fear that maybe all it is or ever will be is two people haunted by their own lives and seeking distraction in each other's touch.

↳ on again / off again ex ( open · masc presenting) - exactly as it sounds, this is the one of the few iara has legitimately dated over the years, even if it's always been a constant string of smitten starts and brutal stops. specifics of timelines and full dynamic to be discussed, but ever since she found herself in a situationship with luca it's most definitely been off.

↳ the future is unclear ( open ) - heavily, heavily reliant on plotting, but i'd love to find another character in game who's somehow involved in a recent string of visions she's been having. maybe they're about them, or maybe this character is just in some way involved. either way, they're tangled up in whatever she's seeing though neither of them know it yet.

↳ miscellaneous & more to come - neighbors, enemies and estranged friends, rival witches, anyone who went to iara for a prediction about their future and was either pleased or pissed off with the results, coven members, cousins, co-workers at the motel, drinking buddies, former fwb's and ons', fellow artists, etc.

[godsforsakcn]

𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐒: 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒.

It could be said that Iara "self-medicates" in the form of needles and ink.

For as much as she has a natural inclination for art conjured up by her own thoughts and her own hands, though, almost all of the pieces she's had done were picked out ( often on the spot and at random ) by either her tattoo artist or her friends. To Iara it's less about what she gets and more about the catharsis found in being able to focus on nothing but the act itself for a little while.

Besides, it's perhaps the only time she can actually enjoy being surprised and not knowing what's about to come until it's already done — even if at least a few have absolutely been spoiled via a vision while still in the chair.

[andarnas]

julia dalavia via instagram

[godsforsakcn]

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘. muse name.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. muse name.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. character name.

𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗. muse name.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓. event name.

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊. muse name.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆. muse name.