This isn’t really an intro as much as an UPDATE featuring a biography and some changes I’ve realised as I’ve gotten to know Leah’s character better, but given that I’d still recommend y’all give this a once over. Thanks to everyone for getting involved with her and my other characters, and I’m excited to do so much more with her. <3
Orientations: Bisexual / biromantic (with a lean towards women)
Relationship Status: In a ( secret ; open ) relationship with Princess Ivana of the Netherlands ( @ofivana )
Nationality: American
Religion: Agnostic
Neuroses: Undiagnosed Asperger’s syndrome (note: I, the mun, have diagnosed Asperger’s!)
FAMILIAL ;
Hometown: Anchorage, Kentucky
Father: Kenneth Morgan, CEO of Morgan Financial
Mother: Candace Morgan (d. 2019)
Siblings: Bocephus ( @hxll-0 ) and Elise ( @ofchampagnetears ) Morgan (b. 1992)
OTHER ;
Languages Spoken: English, Latin, French, Italian, German (incl. Swiss, Austrian and Bavarian German), Spanish, Portuguese
Educational Background: Institut Le Rosey, Harvard University, John Hopkins University
Occupational History:
1. Intern / Political Assistant at Capitol Hill (2002-06)
2. Representative for Maryland’s 2nd District (2006 special election — 2010)
3. Junior Senator for Maryland (2010-2016)
4. 45th President of the United States of America (20th January, 2017—)
Achievements: Youngest and first female president of the United States; shortest initiation in Society history. If I listed her political achievements we’d be here a while, folks.
THE SOCIETY ;
Codename: Adrasteia
Meaning: Adrasteia means “the inescapable,” which I chose as her label. It’s another name for Nemesis, the goddess of divine retribution, which i found quite fitting because she’s always managed to rise above people and attain what she wants, even if it is through using her parents’ money and power to her advantage at least in part. And now she’s the defender of the free world, in the most powerful office in the world — don’t make an enemy of the inescapable, for the inescapable will always get you.
Traditionalist or Reformist: Leah struggles to shoe-horn herself into either camp, but she supposes in general due to her own ideas that she’s some kind of reformist, even if that reform doesn’t include party islands and hedonistic displays. She prefers more power for women within the Society; more space for non-established families and for people to get in on their talent alone.
Goals In The Society: Her own advancement. To make her rowdy siblings see their own potential, and perhaps find a bond with them that feels less like she’s that cousin you don’t see often and don’t know very well. Ultimately, to be the Grand Archon, where she can make the most positive change. To use the Society to get rid of the Twenty-Second Amendment so she has more time to create further equally positive change for America.
Opinion On The Society: It’s something she was always meant to be part of, but something that needs to be tweaked to fit the time that it’s in. Some people’s definition of ‘tweak’ is too far, but ultimately the most important thing is that she’s in it. Certainly she values it as an honour.
PERSONALITY ;
MBTI: ENTJ-A
Enneagram: Eight, with a Seven wing
Temperament: Choleric
Hogwarts House: Slytherin
Inspirations: Birgitte Nyborg (Borgen) | Kidz & SOS (Take That songs, inverse) | Peggy Carter (Marvel Cinematic Universe) | Official Secrets (film)
Tropes: The Ace, Armour-Piercing Question, America Saves The Day, The Chessmaster, Contemplative Boss, Married To The Job, Workaholic, Badass In Charge, Brainy Brunette, Deadpan Snarker, Iron Lady
YOUR MUSE AS ;
A piece of art: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt
A song: Under The Ladder by Mélovin
A book: How To Use Your Enemies by Baltasar Gracián
A movie: Official Secrets
A TV show: Borgen
A historical era: Ancient Greece if she had to choose one, but she’s more one to look to the future than the past.
A historical figure: Artemisia of Caria
A colour: Royal blue
An animal: Lioness (she’s got the name for a reason.)
YOUR MUSE’S DREAM ;
JOB: She’s sat in the Oval Office, folks, she’s doing it.
VACATION: Leontine doesn’t have time for vacations, especially not if she’s attending Society events, but if she did, she’d like to go to the Acropolis.
DAY: One day where Bo and Elise are calm; getting to go on a real date with Ivy and be proud of it.
AS A CHILD: To be President of the United States.
LAST NIGHT: I can’t tell you, because she didn’t sleep long enough to reach the appropriate stage and dream.
THAT THEY GAVE UP ON: She’s never given up on a dream. Never once, not unless she realises it was wrong in the first place. She’s not someone who gives up.
THAT THEY HAVE RIGHT NOW: Constitutional change; getting her siblings into the Society
BIOGRAPHY ;
TWELVE years — that was how long Leontine Artemisia was the sole daughter of Kenneth and Candace Morgan, but also how long it took them to forget why. Through generations of the Morgan bloodline the same issue had persisted; a work-ethic that was either partly or entirely based upon an unattainable ideal of perfection.
Which, in itself, led to relationships like the parents’ own. Lacking in healthy emotional expression ( particularly on the side of the born Morgan, less so in his softer-hearted wife ) and with at least some business element regarding a ‘practical’ or ‘advantageous’ match. It wasn’t an arranged marriage, not quite, as they had found each other — mostly — alone, but neither could it be said to be a ‘love match’ the likes of which fill the daydreams of any hopeless romantic.
And then, from there, they hadn’t realised how it would impact any child of theirs until it was too-little, too-late to do anything about it. When the nifty Morgan motto had already taken hold, dug itself into the young girl, going deeper with every comment Kenneth made about how she could be ‘better,’ or ‘how do you expect to be like me or your grandfather?’
It became Candace’s — being the far more empathetic parent, the one who was there when Leah fell and who had attached herself to her first-born in a way she would not attach quite the same with inevitable additions — goal to get her as far away from her husband’s influence as possible, so that she might have half a chance at coming fully into her own. Except, prior to achieving that goal, the terrors ( I’m sorry, the twins, but they were, and are, terrors ) came into the trio’s lives, and Leah was both no longer alone, and more alone than ever.
Which suited her fine, or at least she said it did. After all, she was still her mother’s favourite, anyone could see it. Could feel it, where Kenneth had turned his attention to the young babes to see which child would offer him the legacy he craved; because Leah’s goal — politics; the highest seat in the land, even then, regardless if she had to claw her way up there with her nails or not — didn’t particularly interest him at the time ( Morgan Financial needed an heir, and he was consistently frustrated at his eldest daughter’s disinterest ) and would interest him even less after she came back with European ideas from her next destination: the Institut Le Rosey in Switzerland, where she would meet a whole host of future A-Listers and members of the Society, including one Étienne de Polignac.
When she returned from Le Rosey at the age of eighteen, her next destination was already settled: the famed Harvard University, to study political science. Of course, she could be nothing but the hardest worker, something she would not let her university boyfriend — as much as she loved him at the time — get in the way of; it was clear Kenneth’s message had gotten through to her ( too well, as she would never feel good enough, always striving to impress him, when it was impossible ) when she chose career over her love life upon graduation.
Because from a young age she had set her eyes upon the White House desk, organised her life around that ultimate dream; pursued law and civics, and abandoned the healthy social lives of others her age. While other members of her family could have been considered high-society socialites, all she knew was her own ambition. Quickly Leah herself became the pedestal for her siblings to follow — except, not her politics, as Kenneth would indicate by sending the twins to Phillips Exeter rather than Le Rosey — and was a point of pride when her parents decided she ought to go to public events; after all, she had to learn how to relate to people, didn’t she? Her first motto, and a tattoo she has that’s always hidden by her clothing, is: change your stars, if you try, you’ll succeed.
Leontine moved to Maryland after Harvard, where she worked as a political advisor at Capitol Hill for one of the Democratic representatives ( whilst balancing a second degree, in international relations, at Johns Hopkins University due to its proximity to Capitol Hill ) until she was of constitutional age to stand for election in the House. She won Maryland’s second district — rather than standing in her birth / home state of Kentucky — and then, upon turning thirty, became the junior senator for the state; however, these early political years were all overshadowed by one event: the war in Iraq, with which she vehemently disagreed, and which has continued to influence her strong anti-war stance throughout the rest of her political career.
‘The rest’ of her political career including her run for President in the 2016 election, resulting in the thirty-six year old defeating Republican nominee Donald Trump in the most resounding fashion since the Nixon landslide. And even then the opponent managed to win Massachusetts; not so here.
She grew up privileged, of course she did, and she’s found her balance between being at peace with and being very aware of what led her to where she is today: the Oval Office, the young trailblazer wherever she went. Leah Morgan’s ‘brand’ is record-breaking, perhaps ( after all, she very quickly charmed people to her favour to admit her into the society as a 25-year-old initiate, a Societal record that still to this day stands. )
Leah’s mother Candace, however, was killed in a ‘car crash’ last Thanksgiving, a tragedy which she has not processed; she hasn’t any understanding of how to deal with grief — none of the Morgans do — so, at some point, it’s all going to come back to her.
But she was raised on ‘this is good, but you can always do better,’ and that shows more than anything in this woman with a lot of dreams and even more ambition.
“sofi once told me that i would make an excellent secret agent if i ever learned how to listen for once,” elise mused thoughtfully. “i think it was a compliment. she and i do this fun thing where we she complains about the trouble i get into, but on the down low she thinks it’s impressive.”
elise smirked at the rapidly diminishing liquid in her sister’s glass. leah was certainly drunker than she was by miles, but elise was rolling and pleasantly tipsy, and she was having an excellent time. “almost definitely. there was the thanksgiving when i was sixteen that i don’t remember, but i since i don’t remember it, i’m guessing that i was drunker than you were.”
“in an odd way it is impressive, i suppose,” leah hummed, hand running through her hair in an a moment that was almost pensive; the other drummed its fingertips to the vague beat of the music surrounding them against the glass, as she pondered just how easy it would be in an atmosphere like this ( in all senses of the word ) to end up with the poisoned chalice. “how you got yourself into the prime minister’s constituency office with a knife, elise, i don’t think i ever want to know.”
she chuckled at the memory of that particular thanksgiving, given that she remembered it. elise would likely be the one to be blessed with memories of tonight, in an odd reversal of events. “so, thanksgiving 2008... yeah, i was in the representatives, so... probably already boring.”
for a moment she wondered if she had ever not been boring to her siblings; the older sister who was off at her swiss boarding school during term time, then to harvard before she finally fully moved out to d.c. didn’t that sound more like that estranged cousin you don’t really know at all?’
and who was she, the leontine morgan who left? the southern-raised girl who decided to stand in maryland having spent the past three years as a political advisor at capitol hill whilst doing a second degree; was it any wonder they were disconnected, or that she barely knew what it was to stop work?
It shouldn’t have been a shock to see the President of the United States sitting beside her. She’d been brushing elbows with the rich and powerful all evening, and who could be more powerful than a head of government? It wasn’t even the first event she’d attended with the commander-in-chief, but where was madame president’s security detail? How was she just lounging about so casually, looking perhaps the perfect level of intoxicated, that Elvyra could stumble upon her almost unwittingly? Perhaps less stringent measures had been taken by secret service considering everyone gathered at the Lourve tonight had undoubtedly been screened to death in the initiation process. A bit bizarre to think that some of the more influential members, Sergio, for example, definitely knew everything there was to know about her. The thought made her uncomfortable.
“Why were you sitting beside her then?” she wondered, perhaps a bit too audaciously considering her audience. “I think you should give yourself a night off. Leave the networking or negotiating or whatever it is you guys do for when you’re on the clock and enjoy the event. You know, as much as one can enjoy a stuffy auction.” Her eyes flashed to Leontine’s, the literal president, a cheeky smile toying at her lips. “Besides, you don’t look to be in the greatest state for any political negotiations. And I mean that entirely as a compliment.”
"oh, the chair was already empty, she’s just the only person who would wear that. it’s a little tragic. if she sees me this drunk, or knows i have been, she’ll smirk at me for the rest of time, and one day i may not be able to resist slapping it off her face even with the longest patience the world has to offer.”
leontine shook her head — nudging the jacket under the stool so as to be further out of sight with her heel, she grinned in apparent satisfaction once it was camouflaged from view, and the bar stools filled; the sigh she pushed past her lips was long, and almost akin to a sarcastic expression of pity as much as it was an itch for a cigarette — and took a sip from her glass.
“so really, what i suppose i’m saying is thank you.” at elvyra’s continued comment she let out a laugh, “no. the work computer has been well and truly confiscated, i think. i don’t think we’ve met, which i probably should’ve thought of before all this,” leah nodded to her wine, “but if it won’t make you think less of me, then i’m lucky.”
“My, my, what am I getting myself into?” he said, laughing at the description of the chat which he was not privy to. Felix enjoyed himself for the rest of the dance, making conversation with the President, and when it was finally over, gracefully bowed and kissed her hand.
The rest of the evening was a rollercoaster. A rollercoaster of emotions (that frankly, he didn’t expect from himself and would never again expect from himself) ending in the Moulin Rouge, intoxicated by alcohol, by the music that played so loudly in the background, by the enticing red of the interior of the theatre, by the emotions that overtook him so stupidly. More drink, less talk, Elise had said, and it was these words that he lived by as the night progressed. It was a surprise, however, when he found a certain figure lingering by the corners of the Moulin Rouge, almost shadowed by the thick, velvet curtains. An unmistakable figure, and a smile cracked his expression once he was fully sure of who it was. He strode towards her, and again, so primly, said: “Madame President,” he said, though his words were slurred, and he offered his bottle of tequila to her. “It’s a surprise to see you here tonight. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“i surprised myself,” leah admitted. sober, she’d never have been able to deal with such an environment. yet alcohol slowed the world, it almost seemed to drag as she glanced around her, every little detail she wanted to focus on requiring a moment’s longer concentration; however, the ease of it was sliding past the details she didn’t want to focus on ( them blurring into the haze of the background, the abrasive nature of the noise dulled where it would usually press against her skull ) where such a thing would usually be a momentous effort.
“sofi told me i wasn’t allowed, but elise snuck me in so i guess she’s got to deal with it now. but like... floraigh can under no circumstances find out about this. she will smirk at me for the rest of time and i’ll have to sit on the desire to slap it off her face,” the president took the bottle of tequila — after a cursory glance around her to check for disapproving figures — and took a drink, furrowing her brows slightly at both the alcohol and the music choice.
( this was the sort of thing a figure in her position could only get away with given the assistance of the society, which believed intrinsically in the rights of the privileged to do as they pleased; it wasn’t exactly befitting of her to take advantage of that given her politics, but she could be forgiven for one night. right? )
“you’re on a ‘feelings are shit,’ night too, huh?” she asked him, handing him the bottle back, “fuck, i haven’t had tequila since harvard. and now i remember why not.”
sofi was content to let the evening play out, barring any major national security threats; (think hostage situation, or elise morgan absolutely losing her shit in the middle of the louvre), however. as the night got later, and madame president continued to imbibe more and more glasses of wine, (wine. wine was the drink of choice for the artist, or the analyst in sofi’s unit that got stressed very easily. wine was a sign that something was wrong), it became increasingly clear that it was sofiyah’s duty - as an agent of the united states, but more importantly as a friend - to address it.
it being, of course, the princess of the netherlands, and the growing jealousy that madame president was struggling with. though art wasn’t necessarily sofi’s forte (she had a soft spot for degas, thanks to her history of dancing), she appreciated the atmosphere of the dimly lit room, surrounded by classic pieces.
“savor it, don’t chug it,” sofi said dryly. “have either of you discussed where you stand with seeing other people? i know it is impossible to be public, but you do not have to be so…” she wrinkled her nose, looking for the correct word. “distraught.”
“i’m not distraught,” the woman frowned, just barely a trace over her lips. “fraught, maybe? concerned she’ll get bored with something that has to be so occasional? a little upset, sure. but if i was angry, or distraught about it, at this point i’d be a hypocrite and we both know that’s hardly my favourite position—”
leah pushed out a sigh, glass clinking against the table, “and, you know, it’s unfair to ask her to be a nun when we’re not together. because, have you seen her? she must get a million offers from people better than me in all kinds of arenas, she’s so...” ( a vague gesture finished the sentence — settling into heavy and momentary silence, discomfort stirring in her stomach — as something, probably sofiyah, stayed her hand to prevent her from picking up the glass again. ) “i don’t know. unburdened, sometimes, and that’s not fair because i know she isn’t, but...”
she shook her head. “i don’t know.” a chuckle, “i don’t even like wine that much, so i don’t know what i’m doing.”
“absolutely not, leontine, she said — i mean, she used my name. she never does that, and you know, i was sort of so shocked that i stopped listening. so i didn’t hear all the reasons why i can’t.” she sighed into her half-empty glass, looking thoughtfully at her little sister, “is this the only time ever that we’ve both been at something and i’ve been more drunk than you?”
Amelia smirked as she noticed the blush on Leah’s face, that was interesting. Maybe there is a little more to it than she first thought? “I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you when I say Regina knows.” she chuckled lightly, “That girl knows everything”
“Of course, I’m nothing but honest with you. I have no reason to lie.” And it was true, she didn’t have an reason to lie to her, in fact lying could be the worst of two option for her with so much more riding on their relationship than just business. They had known each other too long for Amelia to want to risk that. “Usually it’s much easier to understand, I admit. The blush on your cheeks tells me you got the point though”
“you were certainly direct, it was hard to miss the point once I knew what it said.”
eye contact was the hardest thing for leah to learn getting into politics — it was one of the first signs of authenticity, but likewise one of the things she’d never understood why she struggled with, but always had — and she’d managed, over time, though discomfort still sat unseen behind it. after all, leontine morgan prided herself on it. transparency, authenticity compared to her predecessors; ironic, one might suppose, given her sneaking around with the netherlands’ beloved crown princess, but love and desire could make a fool or a hypocrite of the best of beings, and those who didn’t understand it? well, perhaps they had never been in love.
“of course, i assumed regina knew of it; i assume she knows everything. it’s far easier to operate on that than think she doesn’t know and have plans disrupted by the revelation that she does,” she bit her lip softly, considering for a moment whether to say anything before the alcohol assisted her in being a little more loose-lipped, “i meant what i said, too. the list pre-dates the texts.”
There was never a doubt in Ivy’s mind that Leah would follow behind her once it was safe to do so. Perhaps there should have been, but with desire as strong as theirs, Ivy hadn’t been concerned. As Elise had mentioned in the past, they were not fantastic at sneaking around, weren’t as subtle as was required, but currently, Ivy wasn’t bothered. She had had three glasses of champagne and she had made the mistake of repeatedly gazing at Leah as she had been biting her lip, looking in Ivy’s own direction. Certainly no one could blame her for (perhaps carelessly) mentioning a place where they could have a moment of privacy, away from the Society’s prying eyes.
When the door opened moments later and Leah emerged, Ivy couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. “Are we getting better or worse at this?” She asked, sounding every bit as amused as she was. The concern was real, and likely something Ivy would dwell on at a later date, but for now, she simply wanted to enjoy Leah’s presence. “You look incredible,” Ivy stated as she wrapped her arms around Leah’s neck and moving closer to her. “It’s not the most romantic location, but I’m happy you followed me, Snoepje.” Against Leah’s ear, Ivy whispered, “How are you enjoying the party so far?”
“depending on who you ask,” leah exhaled — sweet, laden with the countless glasses of wine she’d imbibed, and lengthy; all the tension built up within her body could be loosened and let go of now that ivy was ( at long last ) close to her, arms grazing her neck — and placed her hands lightly upon the princess’ waist, “either too much, or not enough. but either way, it’s better now I’m with you, no matter the...” leah chuckled, eyes casting themselves briefly around them, “decor.”
she then drew the blonde into the kiss she’d been craving all night.
eased by the familiar warmth of her closeness, it’s equal parts tender and demonstrative of the near desperation she’d been feeling — perhaps, even, a note of the jealousy that had run through her ( and still wasn’t entirely gone ) when ivy mentioned her liaisons with one avery harper — before she pulled slightly back and pressed her forehead to the princess’ own. it would be wrong, and hypocritical, of leontine morgan to be angry. so she wasn’t. but jealousy? they’d made no safeguards against that, and why? they knew it would be impossible.
“that’s my way of saying thank you, you look brilliant too, i’m glad i came and we’re definitely getting worse at this.”
If there was ever an event Elvyra had wanted to pass up, it was this one. Any one, really, that she couldn’t attend arm-in-arm with a handsome distraction. The invitation had been enticing enough, mysterious and demanding, and a trip to France even more-so, but she was bored by it all. A charity auction? It was too tense and stuffy, no room for a single misstep, especially not as an initiate. But she was desperate for a bit of a mischief. Near the open bar she chose a seat with a jacket already draped across it for that very purpose, despite the array of available options. Just a cavalier swipe of her hand had it slipping to the ground, freeing it up to be perched upon, which she wasted no time doing. A conspirator’s smirk turned her expression feline as she flagged down a server with a cavalier wave. “Enough champagne. Perhaps you can figure out a way to deliver me the makings of a perfect tequila shot without earning me too many scandalized glares, yeah? This is a formal function, after all.” (x)
leah and elvyra were of the same mind in the avoidance area, but given her own ascendance up the ranks of the gilded society it seemed it would be ill-advised not to show her face. future leontine morgan would remind past leontine morgan that she had managed to do something ‘ill-advised’ anyway ( too many glasses of wine, talking somewhat too freely to milo baptiste, and spending half of the night trying to avoid her security detail ) and that as it were she may as well — and it would perhaps have been more advisable to; there were less consequences for the former, especially given the time-consuming and completely vital nature of her occupation — have stayed in washington d.c.
but future leontine morgan was not yet here, and past leontine morgan was submerged in enough glasses of wine to cause the secret service to give her the side eye, so present leontine morgan was having a rather excellent time. she noticed the swipe, and tugged at her own jacket on her shoulders as she saw the woman coming to settle in the previously occupied seat next to her. when the newcomer processed her face, post-enthusing about tequila to a bartender, leah chuckled at the moment of shock passing over her features.
“don’t worry,” she tucked some rogue hair behind her left ear, “it’s the british prime minister’s, and i don’t like her, so i don’t care.” ‘don’t like’ is a euphemism. “besides, basically no one here hasn’t seen worse.”
Location: The Louve
Event: Auction
Status: Open to all
“What do you think?” Esmeralda questioned as turned her head and pointed at the newly shaved side. Instead of her tradition random change of colour for an event she decided a cut would be a nice change. She couldn’t be more happier with it. “Go on, be honest. I can handle it!”
“have you asked étienne?” leah asked, “he taught me everything i know about style, and it’s always better to ask an expert; not to mention he’ll definitely tell you how he really feels about it, so you’ll know you’re getting the truth. et doesn’t pull punches, that’s why i always text him before i—” send (clothed) pictures to her girlfriend — “—go to a major event. get his opinion. i think it’s something i never had the courage to do and couldn’t pull off, but his opinion is probable to be considerably more valuable than mine.”
––– open starter ; the tuileries garden, the louvre.
even though he’d been in the society for ages, this was his very first charity auction. mainly because he was on the riding circuit during the spring, but actually because he just refused to turn up year after year after year. so after finally saying fuck it, antony had charmed a whole tray of macarons from the caterers and escaped out into the tuileries garden for some fresh air. and he had just bitten into one –– bespoke versace jacket abandoned on the grass, glass of champagne in the other hand, lit cigarette only just balanced his fingers –– when he heard someone coming his way. “ macaron? ” antony asked, hazy smile and all.
a — certainly not sober — leontine morgan took one of the macarons antony offered her, having wandered out here with the secret service men somewhere in the gardens. hidden, probably; they liked to hide ( if they could still have a vantage point to protect her should it become necessary ) and she’d always found that rather interesting. sometimes — when she was on one of her stubborn drives; when she decided she wanted to do something normal, as if someone who’d always had so much money at her disposal knew what ‘normal’ truly was — she’d make a joke that if they wanted to be super-spies they should’ve involved themselves with the nsa, and it was only ever met with a wry smile, or sofi’s dry ‘i did, and look where i am,’ but honestly? she thought she had a point.
“not with your dearly beloved?” she asked, once she’d swallowed her mouthful of macaron, other hand searching in her suit-pocket for another cigarette. “i’d have thought you’d be in the head-in-the-clouds stage. but i’ve never been engaged, so what do i know?”
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