Occupation / Day-to-Day Role: Saints-adjacent interrogator, intimidator, chaos agent, and criminal all-rounder. Roxy is not a formal Saints member, but she has been close enough to the crew for most of her life that the distinction only matters when it is convenient. She is used for jobs that need pressure, violence, noise, fear, distraction, or someone willing to do the thing most people hesitate over.
Connection to The Saints: Roxy is Saints-adjacent through family, history, and long-term proximity. Her parents, Cassidy Rose and Michael Rose, both worked close with Ray Donnelly, and Roxy grew up around the kind of work the Saints were built on. She is also connected through her brother Dom and her long-term romantic relationship with Felix Black.
ROLE IN THE RP
Roxy exists in the space between insider and outsider. She is not a Saints member in the cleanest sense, but she has been around Ray’s world long enough that people know better than to treat her like a civilian. She and Dom grew up close to the Saints through their parents, and Roxy became useful in the same way the Roses always have: by being cunning, difficult to control, and willing to go further than most people expect.
Her reputation makes her valuable and risky at the same time. People call her a wildcard because she gets things done through intimidation, violence, manipulation, charm, and sometimes pure derangement. Now that Ray is missing and the Ledger is turning old secrets into weapons, Roxy is helping Felix and Dom connect the dots, partly for answers, partly for self-preservation, and partly because the chaos is just interesting enough to tempt her.
RAY DONNELLY
Ray was never a father figure, boss, or authority to Roxy. He was a man her family worked with, a man who had power, and a man worth staying useful to when it suited her. Their relationship was transactional more than sentimental: Ray knew the Roses could get things done, and Roxy knew Ray’s world offered protection, money, information, and access.
That does not mean she trusted him. The Roses have always been known as people who look after themselves first, and Roxy inherited that instinct completely. With Ray gone, she is not mourning him in any clean or loyal way. She wants to know what happened because his disappearance has made everything unstable, and instability is dangerous even when she is enjoying it.
CURRENT SITUATION
Right now, Roxy is working with Felix and Dom to figure out what happened to Ray. The three of them are trying to connect the early pieces: Ray’s disappearance, the burned car, the Ledger rumours, Dex laying low, Santiago Alvarez being missing, and whatever old business is starting to resurface.
Roxy’s main interest is survival. She wants to protect herself, Felix, and Dom before the city decides where to place blame. But she is also not pretending to be above the thrill of it. Redwick is cracking open, people are scared, and Roxy has always been at her best when everyone else starts losing their grip.
USEFULNESS
Roxy is useful because she knows people. Between her parents, Dom, Felix, the Saints, and years spent moving around Redwick’s criminal circles, she has connections in more places than people expect. She may not always have the cleanest information, but she usually knows a name, a route, a rumour, a pressure point, or someone who owes someone else a favour.
Her obvious skills are violence, interrogation, intimidation, and making people feel like the safest option is telling her the truth. She is good at pushing people off balance. She can be sweet, funny, loud, charming, cruel, or frightening depending on what the moment requires.
She is also street smart and adaptable. Roxy is the kind of person who seems like she is acting on impulse until someone realizes she has already clocked the exit, the weakest person in the room, the lie in someone’s story, and the object she can use as a weapon if things get boring.
PRESSURE POINT
Felix is one of Roxy’s clearest pressure points. She is loyal to him in a way that is rare for her, and anyone who understands that relationship could use him to get a reaction out of her. Threatening Felix, framing him, exposing something from his past, or forcing Roxy to choose between Felix and Dom would make her volatile fast.
Dom is another obvious pressure point. He is her brother, her oldest loyalty, and the person who knows more about her than almost anyone else. That makes him both a shield and a liability.
Her parents are pressure points in different ways. Cassidy Rose is living proof that Roxy comes from a family of survivors and manipulators. Michael Rose is pressure because his death still has unanswered questions. He was supposedly killed by a rival named Gideon “Gid” Mallory, an old rival enforcer tied to one of the crews that used to clash with Ray’s people. The official street version is simple: Michael crossed the wrong man and Mallory put him down. But there have always been whispers that Ray may have allowed it, arranged it, or at least failed to stop it on purpose.
Roxy’s final pressure point is the wreckage she has left behind. Old lies, old jobs, people she manipulated, people she hurt, people who trusted her and should not have. She knows too much, and sometimes the thing that can be used against her is not one secret but the sheer amount of damage attached to her name.
OLD JOB / OLD INCIDENT
A few years ago, Roxy was sent to interrogate a man whose name she was not given. The instruction was simple: break him down enough to get him talking, but keep him alive. Ray needed him breathing. Whoever arranged the job made that very clear.
Roxy did not ask who he was, who he belonged to, or why Ray wanted him. She took the work exactly as it was handed to her. The man was brought to a half-finished construction site on the edge of Ash Row. Roxy was supposed to scare him, hurt him, and loosen whatever he was holding back. Instead, she went too far.
By the time she realized the damage was past fixing, the man was dead. Roxy claimed he fought back and escaped. She made the story loud, messy, and convincing enough to buy time. Ray kept looking for him afterward, which told her the man mattered more than she was told. Ray never let her help with the search, and that only made her more certain he suspected something.
Roxy only told Dom the truth. Together, they got rid of the body in the same construction site, sealing him into a section of foundation before the work stalled again. The site has been sitting unfinished ever since.
Dom knows because he helped Roxy dispose of the body. Whoever originally delivered the man to Roxy may know she was the last person with him. Ray may have suspected but never proved it. A construction worker, inspector, or squatter could eventually find something at the site. If the Ledger references it, it could expose Roxy without naming her directly at first.
Roxy avoids thinking about it as regret. She tells herself he became a problem, and problems get handled. But the fact that Ray kept looking for him has always bothered her. Not because she feels guilty in a simple way, but because she hates not knowing what she interrupted.
THE LEDGER
Roxy could be named or referenced in connection with interrogations, intimidation jobs, violent collections, old Saints-adjacent work, people she helped pressure, or people she double-crossed. The Ledger could connect her to jobs done through Ray, jobs done through her parents, or jobs where she was useful precisely because she was not officially Saints.
A Ledger page could also suggest she was somehow involved in Michael Rose’s death without her realizing the full context. It might list a payment, a location, or a name that makes it look like Roxy benefited from her father being removed.
The most dangerous Ledger connection is the person she killed when she wasn't supposed to. He could be tied to Ray, Michael Rose, or a missing information exchange.
The truth is likely split between real facts, missing context, and deliberate lies. Roxy has done plenty of things that could be recorded truthfully and still ruin her. But the Ledger could also twist her actions into something neater than reality.
RELATIONSHIPS
Dom Rose: Roxy’s older brother and one of the only people she trusts completely. Their bond is loyal, messy, and probably unhealthy in the way lifelong survival bonds often are. Dom knows the worst thing Roxy has done because he helped her bury it. That makes him family, accomplice, and pressure point all at once.
Felix Black: Roxy’s long-term romantic partner. Their relationship is intense and built on shared instincts neither of them should probably romanticize. Felix understands her violence without flinching, and Roxy understands his restraint without mistaking it for softness. She is loyal to him in a way that can make her reckless.
Ray Donnelly: A powerful family connection, useful ally, and dangerous absence. Roxy never saw Ray as an authority figure, but his disappearance destabilizes the world she knows. She wants answers because not knowing makes her vulnerable.
Cassidy Rose: Roxy’s mother. Cassidy worked with safehouses and sometimes recruitment of runners, which means she likely knows routes, hiding places, old names, and secrets people forgot she was present for. Roxy may have inherited more of Cassidy’s cunning than she likes to admit.
Michael Rose: Roxy’s father. A brutal enforcer type who worked close with Ray before he was killed by Gideon Mallory. Michael’s reputation still clings to Roxy, especially because some people think the Roses learned cruelty at home. The rumour that Ray may have had something to do with Michael’s death is dangerous because Roxy does not know if she wants it to be false.
Gideon “Gid” Mallory: The rival blamed for Michael Rose’s death. He was an enforcer tied to a rival crew that clashed with Ray’s people years ago. He has either disappeared, gone quiet, or become useful to someone else. His name can come back through rumours, Ledger fragments, or someone claiming he was paid to take the fall.
Dex Cassidy: Likely someone Roxy knows through Ray’s wider network and Felix’s history. She may like him, distrust him, or both. Dex laying low after Ray’s disappearance is personal enough to annoy her because it feels like one more grown man deciding everyone else can do the hard work.
Connection ideas wanted: People Roxy has intimidated. Someone who underestimated her because she seemed too chaotic to be strategic. Someone who knows something about Michael Rose’s death. Someone who was recruited by Cassidy Rose. Someone who saw Roxy with the person she killed before he disappeared. Someone who owes Dom and Roxy for hiding them once. Someone who wants Roxy blamed for a job she did not do because people would believe it.
PERSONALITY
Roxy is sharp-tongued, quick-witted, volatile, and more intelligent than people give her credit for. She has a sweetness to her that can feel almost playful until it turns mean. She can smile through a threat, flirt through a confrontation, and make violence feel like a punchline right up until it stops being funny.
She is intimidating because she does not always behave like someone with a normal sense of consequence. Roxy can be impulsive, loud, and chaotic, but she is not stupid. The derangement has direction more often than people realize. She watches reactions, collects weaknesses, and knows how to make people underestimate her right before she uses it.
Roxy is loyal, but only to a very small circle. Felix and Dom matter. Everyone else exists somewhere on a sliding scale of useful, entertaining, threatening, disposable, or temporarily beloved. She can be manipulative, charming, cruel, protective, funny, and frightening in the same conversation. The worst part is that with Roxy, all of those things can be sincere.
BIOGRAPHY
Roxanna Rose was born and raised in Redwick alongside her older brother Dom. Their parents, Cassidy and Michael Rose, were criminals with deep ties to Ray Donnelly’s world. Michael was an enforcer known for being intense, cruel, and brutal, while Cassidy handled safehouse connections and sometimes helped recruit runners. Between them, the Rose children grew up around violence, secrets, favors, and the understanding that family loyalty mattered more than clean hands.
Michael Rose was killed by a rival named Gideon Mallory, though the story has never sat completely right with everyone. Some believe it was exactly what it looked like: a rival enforcer taking out a dangerous man. Others think Ray may have benefited from Michael’s death, or that the Roses were easier to manage once Michael was gone. Roxy does not know the truth, and she has never been sure whether she wants to.
Roxy grew into the Saints’ orbit naturally. She was not recruited so much as absorbed into the criminal ecosystem she had always lived inside. Like Dom, she became known as a wildcard: someone dangerous, unpredictable, and effective when things needed to get loud. Over time, she built her own reputation through interrogation, intimidation, brute force and the kind of social cunning that makes people forget chaos can still be calculated.
She is not a Saints member, but she is close enough to the operation that Ray’s disappearance affects her directly. Her relationship with Felix only deepens that connection. Now, with Ray missing, Dex laying low, Santiago gone, and the Ledger dragging old ghosts back into the city, Roxy is trying to help Felix and Dom find answers before the answers find them first.
"Guess you're not really a man of your word, huh?" Ines says as soon as she spots him out on the terrace with a cigarette. Apparently her sense of humor has decided to get there before her manners because by the time she thinks, maybe don't open with that to a man you don't know, she is already stepping outside and already smirking.
To be fair, she knows exactly one thing about Max Nilsson, and even that comes secondhand. He's Felix Ranstrom's cousin, apparently. Information she learned last week while Max was busy making his exit from Rhodes House with a theatrical flourish that practically begged for witnesses. He marched out like there should have been thunder behind him, or at least one person following. No one had, which was unfortunate. Also funny. Also, annoyingly, effective, because it still managed to make Ines ask who he was after.
She glances back to the terrace doors, her mouth still tilted like she is trying not to enjoy herself too much. "Or was the whole 'you'll never see my face again' thing more of a theory than a promise?" her eyes drop brifly to her cigarette, and she makes a small pinching motion with her fingers, as if her request has already been granted. "I'm stealing one, by the way."
Bunny decides Felix's Sunday routine is offensive because it's not immediately about her. The whiskey is fine, she supposes. The jazz is also fine, all low and moody and smug from the record player. Even the book would be fine too if Felix looked at it a little less. She has been on his couch for long enough now, one bare leg stretched along the cushion, silk slip riding prettily at her thigh, and he has looked at her exactly enough times to prove he can see her and not nearly enough times to prove he understands the situation.
So, of course, Bunny entertains herself by becoming gradually worse. She takes a sip of his whiskey and makes a small, disgusted sound before setting the glass down too close to the edge of the table. Then she moves it half an inch closer because apparently she has to create stakes herself. She wanders to the shelves and starts turning little objects around. A lighter faces the wrong way. A book is pulled out, judged by its cover, and pushed back upside down. She pauses in front of the record player and leans down like she is inspecting the spinning vinyl.
"Is this a miserable one on purpose, or do they all sound like someone got divorced in a hotel bar?" she asks, not looking at him. Because looking at him would make it too obvious that the question is bait. She drifts back past him, slow and pointed, catching her foot lightly against the edge of the rug. The gasp she lets out is tiny yet theatrical but even that does not produce the correct level of alarm. So, after a soft huff, Bunny lowers herself onto the arm of his chair instead of the very available couch, close enough that her knee brushes his sleeve. She reaches over to turn one page back in his book with grave concentration. "Sorry." she says, voice sweet and completely unserious. "I wasn't done with that part."
Bunny: imogennn hiii
Bunny: i have a proposition for you to do something very generous and sexy btw
Bunny: me and felix feel like going to the nocturne city thing at the nines
Bunny: he said we should do something respectable like an indie film, culture, blah blah
Bunny: but obviously i want the party because i’m not sitting through anything depressing in the dark unless there’s champagne after
Bunny: we promise we'll behave x
[a few moments later]
Bunny: and obviously i want to see you too
@dxrkenedheights
@gloriouswhispers
bunny x seb - SOMEWHERE NICE 4 LUNCH OBVS
Bunny is not avoiding Madisyn. First of all, avoiding sounds childish, and Bunny is doing something much more mature. Curating access is actually the proper term. And TikTok thereapists say it's called preserving peace. Being unavailable in a way that is, honestly, very grown up of her. So when Madisyn asks if she's free for lunch, Bunny simply says she's busy. Which isn't even a lie because she is busy. Busy making a point.
And right now, she is busy making that point outside of Sebastian's building, texting him from the back of a black car with tinted windows. I'm downstairs. Lunch. Don't be boring. By the time her brother appears, Bunny has checked her reflection twice and decided she looks very cute for someone who has been persecuted by her own sister. She slides out of the car with her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, kisses his cheek before he can properly ask any questions, and links her arm through his.
"You're taking me to lunch. I wanted to spend time with you because you're my brother and I adore you and I'm in a very family-oriented place right now." she looks up at him, already offended by an accusation he's not yet made. "And no, this has nothing to do with Madi, thank you. I'm allowed to have lunch with my brother. That's not a crime, Seb."
Bunny arrives with flowers. Not normal flowers, obviously. Normal flowers are what people buy when they've forgotten a birthday or are trying to apologize to a receptionist. These are obscene flowers. A full, frothing arrangement of white peonies, pale pink roses, sweet peas, and something green that probably has a name Bunny was told and immediately ignored. This sort of arrangement requires both arms, a black Amex, and a florist who understands that shame always has a price point.
In her other hand, she carries a box of pastries from that place Genevieve likes on Madison that never has anything left unless someone calls ahead. Which Bunny has, because she is not a monster. She really did try and get to dinner last night. Kind of. There was a point yesterday afternoon where she fully intended to attend, and that has to count for something. She even bought an outfit. Then Felix said something about leaving the city for a few hours, which turned into dinner somewhere upstate, which turned into a hotel, which then turned into Bunny sending Madisyn a very sincere sorryyyy at midnight with three hearts and no further explanation.
In hindsight, perhaps this has not been her most persuasive work. Still, there are worse crimes than missing a small investor dinner. Tax evasion, for example. Affairs. Plenty of things, really, if everyone just maintains perspective.
Bunny shifts the flowers against her hip and presses the bell in an urgent little rhythm like she is isn't arriving uninvited. And when the door opens, her smile appears instantly. Big and bright. Too bright, probably. "Good morning!" she sings, stepping inside before anyone's disapproval can settle on her. "I got your favorite." she lifts the pastries first, and then the flowers follow, enormous and ridiculous, nearly brushing the side of the entry table as she moves in. "And before you say anything," Bunny adds, already sliding her sunglasses up into her hair. "I know. I'm evil. I'm impossible. Put me in the tower. But before we do all that, these are pistachio éclairs and I do think that matters."
truthfully, madi knows this would be very difficult to talk her way out of. not impossible, though. it's never impossible. she's talked her way out of worse with less champagne in her bloodstream. but if anyone comes through that door, there are not many elegant explanations for why she and her sister are elbow deep in a cupboard like raccoons in silk dresses. still. madi likes to think she would find something.
her eyes flick to bunny as her sister mutters something about kitty's apparent drinking problem, and a quick, mean little laugh escapes before madi can dress it up as anything else. "i don't think you have any room to judge addictions, isabella." she whispers, the scold softened by amusement. without thinking, madi tosses her hair over one shoulder at the exact same time bunny does. the movement is so perfectly synchronized it should probably embarrass them both. it does not. instead, madi's attention shifts to the collection of things bunny passes over. loose papers, old magazines, receipts, some box with velvet lining.
"she isn't called kitty rose, darling. she's kather-" madi stops, because bunny has just said something so profoundly deranged that for a moment every little noise in the room seems to sharpen. a child. a child? with felix? "oh my god..." madi says, freezing with one hand hovering near her mouth. her eyes go wide and her voice dips, quiet and grave. "are you pregnant?" she doesn't even wait for bunny to answer. of course she doesn't. waiting would imply a level of emotional regulation nobody in this family has ever successfully demonstrated. "bunny, please tell me you're not pregnant."
the cupboard is immediately abandoned. "this is far too soon to even be talking about children." madi says, sharper now, frowning at her sister with the full force of eldest daughter horror. "bloody hell, bunny just because you and felix seem to be on your own timeline doesn't mean realistic ones have stopped existing." she looks her sister over as if pregnancy might announce itself then and there. "christ, can't you at least wait until the wedding decides whether it's actually going ahead?"
it is not her finest line of reasoning. she knows that. somewhere in the world, a calmer and more emotionally mature sister might say something about love, readiness, stability, choice. madi can only reach for the weapon most likely to work. bunny's vanity. "you'd be in an absolutely horrendous mood if you had a bump in your wedding dress."
Usually, Bunny can ignore anything if it means she can listen to gossip. Pain, hunger, moral consequence. It can all be background noise if someone is one breath away from divulging something they should not. And Madisyn almost is. Bunny hears the start of it, the reveal of Kitty Rose's true identity. But then everything else barges in. The room is spinning, for one thing, which feels both rude and badly timed but Bunny whips her head toward her sister anyway and catches the shock written all over Madisyn's face.
She could interrupt. She could correct her very easily, actually, because this is not a difficult misunderstanding to clear up. She is not pregnant. She is drunk on the floor in front of a cupboard, which is embarrassing, yes, but nowhere near as bad as being pregnant. But she doesn't. She lets Madi go on. Lets the panic spill out, all quick and worried and edged with that little flicker of judgement Bunny can hear even when nobody else would. That tone. That big sister tone, polished up to look like concern.
And because Bunny has been spending far too much time with Felix, her whole face simply goes flat. Deadpan. Unimpressed. She blinks at Madisyn when she finally finishes and lets the silence sit for one perfect, punishing second. "Oh yeah, Madi. You're so right. I'm pregnant. I'm literally so pregnant. Like, super pregnant. I decided, oh I know, I'll get pregnant and then come to a party and get drunk." the sarcasm hits and the hurt isn't too far behind.
"And what the hell do you mean if the wedding decides it's going ahead?" Bunny stares at her sister, horrified now and offended in a way that she can't even begin to explain. But...she'll definitely try. "Is that what you think? Me and Felix are just… engaged for the hell of it?" she doesn't wait for an answer. Absolutely not. "God, do I look like the kind of girl who gets pregnant? I'm not the kind of girl who gets pregnant, Madisyn. Oh my God." She gestures at herself, horrified that this apparently needs explaining. "I'm way too petite. I'd need a surrogate, for God’s sake."
She is properly on one now, all humiliation and champagne and wounded pride. She starts snatching things back from Madisyn and shoving them into the cupboard, furiously reversing this entire moment. The cupboard was a mistake. The bonding was a mistake. All of it. "And thanks, by the way, for making it very clear that you obviously don't think my engagement even means anything." the words come out bitter, but Bunny doesn't even stop for a second. "God forbid I'm actually just happy." she scoffs, pushing another book back onto the shelf too hard. "Or do you just want everyone to be like you and miserable all the time?"
Isabella is known almost exclusively as Bunny, is the youngest daughter of Genevieve Westwood and the late David Westwood. She is the younger sister of twins Sebastian and Madisyn Westwood, both of whom she adores in her own difficult way.
Unlike her siblings, Bunny has very little to do with Westwood Group. Outside of the occasional event, appearance, or obligation Madisyn manages to rope her into, Bunny keeps herself firmly removed from the family business and sees no real reason to change that.
In Bunny’s mind, it makes sense for Sebastian and Madisyn to work within Westwood Group because they are good at it. She does not see why that has to mean she should want the same thing. Responsibility, structure, and long-term commitment have never suited her for very long.
Bunny is a socialite in the truest sense: charming, loud, fickle, gossipy, provocative, and drawn to extreme luxury, leisure, and whatever feels exciting in the moment. She prefers parties, travel, attention, and pleasure to anything that resembles a fixed path.
She often develops sudden passions — a business idea, a creative outlet, a potential venture, a new obsession — and can become intensely focused for a short time. Just as quickly, the interest usually fades, and Bunny moves on before anyone can hold her to it.
At twenty-seven, Bunny is engaged to Felix Ranstrom. Their relationship is intense, passionate, fast-moving, and deeply enabling. Together, they encourage each other’s worst behavior, disappearing for days or even weeks at a time and returning as if consequences are optional.
Bunny does not particularly care what people think of her relationship with Felix. If anything, disapproval only makes her cling harder. She likes the chaos, the devotion, the volatility, and the feeling that he will choose her over anything sensible.
Beneath her defiance, Bunny has a co-dependent streak she would never admit to. She fears abandonment more than she lets on, and that fear often comes out as jealousy, possessiveness, testing, and provocation.
She can be almost delighted by bringing out that same possessive, reckless side in Felix. To Bunny, proof of love often looks like intensity, reaction, and refusal to let go.
Bunny is close to both Sebastian and Madisyn, but she rarely makes it easy for them. She loves them, relies on them, and resents being managed by them, often refusing to see things from their point of view.
With Madisyn especially, Bunny can be both affectionate and impossible. She knows Madisyn worries, but she often treats that worry as control. Still, Madisyn is one of the few people who can occasionally pull Bunny back into the family orbit.
With Sebastian, Bunny shares a looser, more indulgent bond. She understands avoidance, distraction, and the appeal of not taking life too seriously, even when that understanding makes them worse for each other.
Bunny was twenty-two when her father, David Westwood, died by suicide shortly before the public scandal surrounding his tax evasion and multiple affairs came to light. His death devastated her, but so did the humiliation and anger that followed.
Bunny’s grief is complicated by resentment. She mourns her father, but she is also furious with him — not only for dying, but for the affairs, the secrecy, and the damage his choices left the family to recover from.
Much of Bunny’s behavior can be traced back to that fracture: the disappearing, the recklessness, the refusal to be pinned down, and the instinct to run before anything can hurt her first.
She is chaotic, stubborn, magnetic, and difficult to control. Bunny knows how to make a room turn toward her, how to make a bad decision look glamorous, and how to pretend nothing matters until it very obviously does.
For all her noise and provocation, Bunny is more wounded than she likes anyone to see. Her life of luxury and leisure is not just indulgence; it is avoidance, distraction, and a refusal to sit still long enough for the grief to catch up.
Ines is Isla's younger sister and the daughter of Santiago and Beatriz Alvarez. Her family owns Almaza, a luxury tequila brand founded in the 1960s, known for its heritage, craftsmanship, and increasingly prominent place in high-end social circles.
Despite the company’s history, the Alvarez family are still considered new money by many of the old elite circles they move through. Ines is aware of this, though she has never been especially interested in proving herself to people who already decided what they think of her family.
Truthfully, Ines has little interest in the family company. She understands that Almaza is something to be proud of, and she respects the work that built it, but she struggles to feel any real desire to sustain it or shape her life around it.
That lack of passion often leaves her feeling guilty, especially because she knows how much the company means to her parents and to Isla. Ines does not take the privilege lightly, but she also cannot force herself to want a life simply because it has been laid out for her.
She is not entirely sure what she wants, though she tends to drift toward creative ventures, independent projects, and smaller community-driven businesses. She rarely talks about this openly, partly because she worries it makes her sound pretentious or like she is trying too hard to be different.
Naturally curious, a little aloof, and sometimes detached, Ines has a quick wit and a dry, sarcastic sense of humour. She often seems laid-back and easygoing, though that can read as disinterest to people who do not know her well.
Ines is easily distracted until something truly catches her attention. When it does, she can become unexpectedly focused, stubborn, and difficult to redirect.
She has a troublesome streak, and isn't immune to outright rebellion. Ines is likely to drift, avoid, disappear into a new fixation, or make an impulsive choice simply because she wants to see where it leads.
She is close to Isla and loves her deeply, but their relationship is not without tension. Ines often feels that anything she tells Isla risks becoming a lecture, especially when it involves uncertainty, bad decisions, or anything Isla thinks might hurt her.
With her father, Santiago, Ines often feels overprotected. She knows it comes from love, but his instinct to shield her can make her feel underestimated or kept younger than she is.
Her mother, Beatriz, affects Ines differently. Beatriz does not mean to make her feel guilty, but because Ines loves and respects her so much, her disappointment even when gentle weighs heavily.
Ines exists somewhere between gratitude and restlessness. She loves her family, respects what they built, and understands the security she has been given, but she cannot shake the feeling that the life expected of her belongs to someone else.
this sort of thing is a little beneath her, madisyn thinks. which is not the kindest thought she has ever had, but it is honest, and honesty has to count for something when she has spent the better part of her adult life professionally lying to people about how delighted she is to see them. parties full of models and fashion designers stopped impressing her years ago. maybe they never really had. after the third champagne tower, fifth faux intimate cheek kiss, and seventeenth person describing themselves as a creative, the glamour starts to look rather like admin but with better cheekbones.
still, madisyn has done a little digging. kitty rose, as it turns out, is not really kitty rose at all. she is katherine beecham, cousin to a rather influential belgravia family with more money than tact and at least two men in parliament. apparently katherine prefers a name made up of two euphemisms. and honestly, madisyn can respect reinvention. she can also attend a party for professional reasons and drink too much champagne for personal ones. women contain multitudes. and, naturally, bunny is here.
madisyn spots her little sister just as she half topples around a corner in those absurd heels, disappearing into one of the quieter rooms far from the rest of the party. she would judge the level of tipsy on display, except the room has taken on a rather charming tilt around madisyn herself, so morally speaking, she has no ground to stand on. literally, perhaps, if the floor keeps moving. she follows, as any responsible older sister would. quietly. carefully. and by the time madisyn reaches the doorway, bunny is already splattered across a bear rug, rummaging through a cupboard with the grace of a baby deer.
"now what do we have here?" madisyn says as she leans against the frame, sounding dangerously close to genevieve westwood. smooth, amused, never quite judgmental, but sharp enough to cut through the nonsense. "you just can't help yourself, can you?" she adds with a quick laugh. "if someone has a secret, you're going into every cupboard to find it. literally." she rolls her eyes, full of older sister disapproval. then she glances over her shoulder to the party. then back to bunny. and then, with very little dignity and no hesitation, madi slips into the room and shuts the door behind her. "come on." she says, scurrying closer. "let's see what kitty rose folds keeps hidden away." she snorts because, honestly, what a stupid name.
Kitty Rose. What a stupid name. Not that Bunny is jealous. Obviously. She is not threatened by some girl having a small animal nickname too, because Bunny....well...Bunny is soft and quick and expensive to keep alive. It makes sense. Bunny is cute. And Kitty Rose just sounds like an eighty year old aristocrat who owns a damp house in Gloucestershire and says things like my dear boy before ruining dinner. Except this Kitty Rose is twenty something and pretty enough to be annoying about it. So Bunny has started calling her Catty. On principle. Always like it slips out by accident. It's worth it for the faces.
Anyway.
She cannot quite help peeling herself away from the party. She's several drinks deep, has already made out with Felix in a way that felt more like a public service announcement, and has spilled half a flute of champagne down the back of someone's dress without the woman noticing. A successful evening, by most reasonable standards. But now Bunny wants to know more about Kat Flower. Kitty Rose. Whatever. She thinks she is doing rather well, actually, gliding unnoticed into a quiet room off the hall, until the thick fur of the bear rug catches under her heel and sends her falling with absolutely no dignity at all. She windmills once, magnificently, and only just misses cracking her face against a cupboard.
A cupboard. Well, it would be rude not to. Bunny gets it open fast, already rifling through the shelves before she has any real idea what she is looking for. Papers. Little boxes. A stack of magazines. A book with a cracked spine. Something that might be incriminating if her eyes would stop doing that soft, swimmy thing at the edges. Then her sister's voice... it makes Bunny jolt so violently, she whacks the back of her head on the corner of the cupboard. "Ow!" she hisses, leaning out to glare at Madisyn with one hand pressed to her skull. "Christ, Madi, I hate when you do Mum's voice."
She's half expecting a lecture until she follows her sister's glance back to the party and catches that tiny shift in her face. Oh, there it is. The part of Madi that still, despite everything, can be talked into terrible ideas. Bunny feels the grin pull across her mouth before she can stop it and a giggle escapes as soon as Madi gives in. "I have it on good authority that Kitty might be an alcoholic." she announces, giving her sister a smug nod. Never mind that her own words are starting to slur but this isn't about her. This is about Kitty Rose, whose name alone deserves an investigation. Bunny snorts the second Madi mentions how ghastly it is, but when her sister says the word folds, something unpleasant crawls down her spine.
"Urgh." she fake gags, though it comes dangerously close to becoming real, mostly because the room has begun making slow, unnecessary spins around her. "Please don't. Who the hell calls a child Kitty Rose?" she tosses her hair over her shoulder, which would look more imperious if she were not still kneeling on the floor with one hand inside a stranger's cupboard. "Me and Felix have talked about this." she says, already digging again. "We'd want Swedish names. They're way cuter, right? Oskar has little Lukas, so we might do something with F's. Or Felix's middle name. Kristoffer." she keeps rambling as she pulls things out one by one and passes them over to Madisyn without looking, like her sister is simply there to assist. Which, honestly, she sort of is.
hey look, there’s alfie cross, a 19 year old from atlanta ga, somehow managing to be sarcastic, mischievous, and manipulative while also being laidback, funny, and a little too cocky for their own good.
he's back to annoy hunter
hunter (and kat's) son
mainly lives to annoy his dad and shoot the shit with his fam
typical center hill teen with a bit more wits about him than people realize
hey look, there’s ines alvarez, a 23 year old bowling alley worker from atlanta ga, somehow managing to be curious, distant, and laid back while also being undecided, stubborn, and a little too avoidant for their own good.
going back to an og story:
lived in atlanta her whole life, her mom died when she was young
mainly raised by santiago and tios (if theyre brought in)
never really been sure what she wants from life
her father was in jail for the past few years and recently released
hey look, there’s astra vaisman, a 31 year old clerk at ohm from atlanta ga, somehow managing to be distracted, curious, and floaty while also being impish, melancholic, and a little too strange for their own good.
twin to aries
their parents p much left them in the care of the rest of the vaismans
astra has traveled a lot and always comes back to atlanta for long stints, then disappears again
stayed for the past 3 years due to having nova with felix
sometimes sells (and uses) psychedelics
works at a crystal/spiritual shop in the city called ohm
hey look, there’s tammie jones, a 31 year old mechanic from atlanta, ga somehow managing to be loyal, hardworking, and energetic while also being hotheaded, stubborn, and a little too intense for their own good.
typical tammie
accidental step mom to 5 year old spencer cross who she calls spud
hey look, there’s danny anderson, a 32 year old from atlanta ga, somehow managing to be creative, easygoing, and protective while also being impulsive, reckless, and a little too avoidant for their own good.
typical danny, sells weed n drugs sometimes, job hops or always gets fired
Astra thinks, not for the first time, that the Vaisman house feels like it was made slowly and by many hands. There's nothing uniform about it, nothing that quite matches if you look too closely, and yet it holds together all the same. Not perfectly but...faithfully. Different textures linger in different corners, voices that have passed through, laughter that seems to catch in the walls, footsteps layered over one another until they blur into something steady and continuous. It should feel crowded, with so many lives brushing up against each other, but it doesn't. The constant movement never seems to disturb the deeper quiet beneath it.
She feels it in the way her shoulders have, gradually, lowered over the past few days. Like her body has decided that it's allowed to rest here. And that, more than anything, feels strange. The path that brought her here still sits unevenly in her memory, all sharp edges and blurred pieces, too many feelings layered too quickly to sort through properly. Felix's voice. Nova in her arms. That tight, suffocating pressure in her chest, like something closing in with nothing clear to fight. She remembers that. She remembers not knowing what to do with it. And then, Evelyn. The door opening before Astra even figured what was happening. It makes sense, now, in the quiet aftermath of it all, that this is where she landed. Not logical but right in the way her life often is, guided more by pull than by decision.
She finds Evelyn just as the older witch is leaving the kitchen, something warm trailing behind her. Spiced, maybe, or sweet, Astra can't quite tell, and it catches her attention immediately. She rises slightly onto her toes, a small, instinctive stretch as if that might help her see past her shoulder, but the attempt falters halfway through, her focus shifting instead. Her gaze is pulled to Evelyn herself and her smile that follows is soft but not absent. "I don't think I ever said thank you." Astra says, voice light and steady. "Not properly." she tilts her head just slightly, adjusting to a thought that hasn't quite finished forming. "I'm not sure what we would have done otherwise." the sentence trails, not from sadness but from the way her thoughts tend to slip, already drifting in the direction of things she doesn't feel like feeling just yet.
When she looks back at Evelyn, the gratitude is clearer now, flickering over her expression. "If there's anything I can do here, anything at all, just tell me." she continues and, right at the corner of her lips, a twitch of a grin pulls into place. "Aries, too. Or he'll pretend not to notice anything needs doing at all." Astra chuckles as mischief manages to twinkle behind her eyes.
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