around redford, names don’t stay clean for long. LIESL VON BISMARCK is no exception. they are THIRTY, born and raised or just passing through the town. when the sun rises, they work as DANCER AT THE GUILDED ROOM NIGHTCLUB, but around here, that rarely tells the whole story. their name has been heard in connection to MORETTI ( affiliated ) and like most in this town, they carry their weight in quiet ways. some say they can be COMPULSIVE and OPEN MIND, depending on who’s asking and what’s at stake. they’ve laid claim to DUSTLINE DISTRICT, though ownership in redford is never as simple as it looks. land shifts, loyalties change, and nothing stays untouched for long. lately, their name has been circling for being PRO PRESERVATION. in a town where legacy matters and progress threatens, the only question that ever really lingers is this: will they hold their ground or lose everything trying?
name — liesl von bismarck
nickname(s) — lux ( stage name ) & tdb...
age — thirty
date of birth — 31.12.95
sexual orientation — heterosexual, heteroromantic
height — 5'6" / 1,68m
occupation — exotic dancer @ guilded room nightclub
residence — dustline district
birthplace ⏤ stuttgart, germany
#𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂:
mother — bridget von bismarck ( née. von hammersmark ) †
ather— erik von bismarck †
siblings — 1 friedrich von bismarck ( was older ) †
marital status — single
issues — 1 ( romee / b. february 14th 2k25 / )
pets — n / a
# 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾:
𝐭𝐰: various triggers, deaths, illness, murder, pregnancy, mental illness
Liesl was born into the high society of Stuttgart. Her father, Erik, was a man of immense pride whose business empire (The Bismarck Group) was crumbling behind a facade of luxury. As a child she suffered from selective mutism. Liesl was raised to be a silent ornament, educated in psychiatry and the arts, but mostly groomed for a strategic marriage. Her mother and older brother both died from a hereditary respiratory.
As the business failed, Erik fled to the U.S., dragging Liesl with him. The "business expansion" was a lie; it was a desperate attempt to outrun debt. In New Orleans, Liesl finally rebelled. She found Jack, a mechanic who didn't care about her title. He was the first person to treat her like a human rather than a pawn.
Jack was killed a case of mistaken identity by a Moretti hit squad looking for a different man. Shortly after, it was revealed that Erik had "borrowed" heavily from the Morettis to try and restart his business in the States.
When Erik couldn't pay, the Morettis took the only thing he had left of value: Liesl. To protect her newborn daughter, Romee, and keep her father from a shallow grave, Liesl accepted a "debt-repayment" contract.
𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼 + 𝙷𝙲:
tw: mental illness
She keeps a jar where she counts every cent she makes that isn't part of her debt repayment. She calls it the "Berlin Fund," though she knows it will take years to fill.
She drinks her coffee black and strong, Stuttgart-style. She finds the "weak" American coffee in the saloons insulting.
If she gets anxious during a conversation, her fingers move as if she’s holding a charcoal pencil, "drawing" the person’s facial features in the air.
Her father passed away recently, but not many people are aware of it.
She has a medical degree, and she is a psychiatrist.
#𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 + 𝚆𝙲:
Confidante in the Shadows: This is the only person who sees Liesl when she comes home at 3:00 AM, scrubbing the glitter and smoke off her skin. They provide the emotional support Liesl lacks. or / This person might be secretly protecting Liesl from Moretti's oversight, or perhaps they are the one person Liesl can truly cry in front of.
Unwitting Mark: They want to be her friend and bring her into the "light" of Redford’s upper crust. Liesl feels a deep, gut-wrenching guilt because she is actively documenting their psychological weaknesses for the Morettis. A one-sided friendship that forces Liesl to confront the moral cost of her debt.
Silent Witness: He can’t legally free her from her father’s debt, but he keeps a watchful eye. He might "accidentally" leave files open when she’s sketching in the station or look the other way when she breaks a minor rule. A protective, brotherly, or purely professional connection built on a shared secret.
The Dark Angel: He a high-ranking member or an associate of the Moretti family. He was the "patient" who frequented her office when she still tried to practice psychiatry. He is the only one who knows she attempted to end it all when the weight of her debt and Jack's death became too much. He "saved" her, but in Redford, salvation always comes with a price. He is her "Dark Angel," keeping her secret while ensuring she remains under the Moretti thumb.
FWB: A - Club Regular : A wealthy regular at the Moretti club who has fixated on "Lux." Instead of a lap dance, they’ve worked out a deal where they pay for her time just to have a private, physical escape. He thinks he’s getting an exotic dancer; she’s using him for the extra cash for her "Berlin Fund" and the physical distraction. The danger is that he’s starting to catch feelings for the "persona," while she’s just counting the minutes until she can go back to Romee.
B - Academic Agreement: Someone like a traveling architect or an outsider working for the Pierces ( or not ). They share a similar European sensibility and find the "Texas romance" exhausting. They treat sex like they treat a good meal or a piece of art, something to be enjoyed and then left behind. There’s no talk of "forever." For Liesl, it’s a way to feel human and "refined" again without the mess of a "what if" past.
﹒zephyr & liesl ( @lieslvonbismarck )
﹒the guilded night
there was a certain necessity to the evening. to stay calm , cool , collected — especially with the sea of bodies pressing in on all sides. jackals rubbed shoulders with the families , civilians who only knew the underworld by the threads of leather and stitching in their kutte. zephyr didn't lack faith in his crew , not when they were sober. but with alcohol flowing freely , tempers would flare , and arguments were bound to break out. and sooner or later , one of his own would likely end up tangled in a fistfight with some idiot who didn't know when to back down.
maybe that was why , when the petite blonde approached , her gaze sharp and hungry like a predator eyeing its next meal , zephyr raised both hands in mock surrender.
❝ i'm not the type tonight , sweetheart. ❞ his voice was rough , a low drawl that hinted at something darker , as he tilted his head toward the well-dressed finance type not far from them. ❝ you'll have better luck with that douche over there. ❞ the words were casual , but the flick of his eyes told a different story. he knew what kind of trouble she was looking to start.
⸻ The night felt new and innocent, just like a baby, or so they said. Liesl, who preferred to go by 'Lux', couldn’t wait to escape this environment. ❛ Don’t flatter yourself. ❜ She said, her voice a smooth chime that carried the unmistakable chill of a Stuttgart winter. She neither bit nor flirted; she simply stood there, her fingers rhythmically sketching an imaginary design on her palms. ❛ I'm not looking for luck, and certainly I'm not looking for him.❜ There was a mild disgust on her face when she glanced at the finance guy in the corner. Ughh. Then her gaze raked over Zephyr with the detached curiosity of a psychiatrist who had already seen the ending of his story. ❛ I am looking for a moment of silence in a room designed to scream. You just happened to be the only person in this crowd who looks like they’re actually standing still. ❜ Then she took a measured sip of her drink, in a slow way from her club soda.
Her feet ached in those heels, and the phantom scent of baby powder and home. Romee was pulling at her heart with a gravity that made the club feel like a fever dream. ❛ Believe me, sweetheart….❜ She added, the endearment sounding more like a weary observation than a term of affection. ❛ The last thing I want tonight is a man who thinks he’s a meal. I’d much rather be at home with a book and a door that locks from the inside. But the Morettis don't pay for my comfort. They pay for my presence. ❜ She let out a breath that was almost a sigh, her gaze dropping to the leather of his kutte. ❛ So, stay in your surrender. It’s the most peaceful thing I’ve seen all night. ❜
“ christ, ” she looses this grouse under her breath, an exchange become abruptly too tedious. “ a tart is a tart. and you are here, liesl, to pay off your father’s debts. ” she sets her glass down on a passing tray, quieter, “ and to my understandin’, there were very few calculations involved. the math was simple; work for my family, or everyone you love winds up stuffed into old luggage and buried out in the railyard. ” she is perfectly insouciant; speaking with ease, as one might remark upon the weather. this horror is not some imagining or empty threat, but reminiscence; of things done before, many a time, and of things that will be done again. “ and yet, there ya were, standin’ all alone. i think what you are is tryin’ too hard to intellectualize a very. simple. job. ”
bored. bored, now. she would like to abscond, find another fine something to take up her attention. it seems, however, they disagree on how this conversation will end. and these suppositions are enough to vex her. “ i am here, honey, because it wouldn’t be a party without me. ” eyes rolled back with the appropriate theatrics. “ and that’s just my face. ” god, could she use a cigarette. “ i would be careful with that, y’know. the needling. you start presuming things, stickin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong … ”
⸻ Funny, she talks about her loved ones when all of them are dead, except one. However, it seems the other woman isn't updated. The mention of the luggage and the railyard was met with that same unbearable, clinical stillness, a trait born of Stuttgart boardrooms and refined in the quiet rooms of medical school. ❛ Simple math often leaves out the most important variables, Allegra. ❜ Her voice dropped dangerously low, in a melodic register. She didn't let the threat of the railyard settle; instead, she stepped on it as if it were a common puddle. ❛ And intellectualizing is how I survive the boredom of people who think violence is a substitute for personality. ❜
Her grey-bluish hues did not stray away from Allegra's face, instead, tracing the raw scars with the detached interest of a surgeon. Ahh, the theatrics, the eye rolls, the restless need for a cigarette… All the tells of a bird who hated the golden bars of her own cage just as much as Liesl did.
❛ I'm not needling… ❜ Liesl continued, a faint, Swabian lilt sharpening her words. ❛ I am diagnosing. You call it your 'face,' but I see the way you look at the door. You’re the 'baby' of the family, finally being forced to play funeral director, and yet you act as if the world is still your pearl-filled oyster. ❜ The German stepped a bit closer, whispering against Allegra's space. ❛ You tell me to be careful, but look at you. You’re covered in scars from a car you couldn't control, and you’re being brought to heel by the very family you claim to represent. We are both on leashes tonight, Allegra. Mine is made of my father's debt.❜ Her gaze dropped to the other woman's scar on the neck. ❛ Yours seems to be made of your own recklessness. I wonder… Which one of us is more likely to snap first? ❜
“ ah. liesl. ” now, with a sudden ache, does she feel less hospitable. allegra pulls a long drink from the coupe in her left hand, her eyes— two black, inscrutable pearls— fixed on the woman before her. she lets this moment linger, delighting in its silence and in its unease. and then, sharply— “ my mistake. i figured you for another blonde tart. ” her tone saccharine and cool. she did not need to put much effort into her venom; it dripped from her as afterbirth. it filled her up as air.
“ shouldn’t you be schmoozin’, huh? why isn’t that little tush in the lap of one’a our vips? the night is young, sweetheart. and there’s still work t’be done. ”
⸻ The blonde did not look at Allegra with fear; instead, she remained with her unbearable calmness, as her stoic expression remained. ❛ A tart implies lack of discernment, Allegra. And we both know my presence here was very calculated… Investment by your family. ❜ With that, she took a sip from her own drink. ❛ As for the lap of your VIP… ❜ She continued, now looking into her eyes, with her strikingly grey-bluish hues. ❛ I find that men talk more when they're trying to impress a woman they think is ' above ' them. If I sit in their lap, I'm a toy. If I stand here, I am a confessional. ❜ She winked, playfully, utterly ignoring her tone, venomous for seeing her.
Then she looked around. ❛ Is that why you’re over here, then? To ensure the help is performing? ❜ Her tone shifting, becoming more dangerously soft, the voice of a psychiatrist finding a nerve. ❛ Or are you finding the 'distraction' of your own party a little too loud to stomach tonight? You have the look of someone who can still smell the smoke from the barns, even through all this expensive perfume. ❜
oh, but how she loved a party. all of the grey, the drudgery of day-to-day, made to slink away under hot lights and that heavy, synthetic bass. allegra feels it penetrate her now; the resonance between her breasts, in her belly, and moving down and down— “ welcome in, kittens, ” she drawls with volume from atop the bar, eyeing their guests as they trickle through. in truth and in past, allegra’s aim had been to make a lark of every moment. she knew very little of pedestrian struggle, of one’s need to escape. for her, life was an amusement, always. and she would conceive of pleasures when there were none to be found. but things had changed, hadn’t they? and if this night was for pretending, well. who was she to deviate? “ leave your troubles at our door, ” cheekily, flung into the crowd. with gimlet in hand, allegra wiggles down from her mock-throne. she decides she will enter the fray, perhaps in search of something colorful she might bring back to her nephew. and once integrated, sets her eyes on the first lone figure she can corral.
“ evening, honey. is there, uh, something we … something i, can do for you? ”
⸻ And the German woman was looking at her surroundings, everything was rehearsed for the party, just as she'd work on this day. She'd blend in, here and there, doing what she was being paid for, and took a glass of champagne for a drink; normally, she does not drink at work, but only a glass wouldn't kill anyone, would it? Mentally, she was making the countdown to go home. And then a voice caught her attention, another Moretti. ❛ I work here, so I guess I should be the one asking this question for you. Is there anything in special do you want then?! ❜
astryd’s eyes narrowed almost immediately, chin tipping up just enough as she properly took liesl in now. less what she was saying, more about how she held herself. the tension in it, the things that didn’t quite sit right with her. she pushed off from the wall then, taking one last drag before stubbing the cigarette out against the brick as she closed the distance properly. “you look rattled, babe..” her gaze flicked to the door, then back again, sharper now. “what’s got you skuttling out like the devil’s about to come flying through and drag you back in?” the tone stayed calm, almost teasing even, but there was something coiled underneath it all. a quiet shift and the kind that set her on edge too, just enough for that familiar thread of violence to settle in where it might be needed.
⸻ Liesl was more focused on the door, worried about the client finding her, and then her sparkling grey-bluish hues looked at Astryd, her pupils were very dilated by how startled she was at the moment, as she was approaching her. ❛ It's nothing… Just a client… He is a little… ❜ Aggressive, that's the word for it, but her mouth said… ❛ Excentric. ❜ She concluded after a second. Truly, she did not want to be stalked; she was feeling a little stalked by him. ❛ I'm just… Maybe a little break for now may work. ❜ And she hopes he either gets distracted or has another business to do…
the crack of the cue ball echoed through the rattlesnake bar, sharp enough to turn a few heads. jett leaned in slowly, lined it up, sending the eight ball gliding straight into the corner pocket with a final knock. game over; just like that. a few groans circled the table, a couple of curses under breath, but he barely acknowledged any of it. instead, the man straightened, rolling his shoulder once, the win cost him nothing at all. there's a stack of cash sitting near the rail - messy, tempting. he pulled it in with one hand, thumbing through it quick, not even counting, didn't need to, he already knew he'd come out ahead
glass in hand, he took a slow sip of his whiskey, dark eyes scanning lazily across the crowd like he was flipping through options on a menu he wasn't impressed by. the bar had that usual late night vibe, dim lights, sweat, cheap cologne, people pretending they had more to lose than they actually did. jett set the glass down on the edge of the table, cue resting against his shoulder "alright" he called, voice low but sharp just enough to hook attention "who's next?" a beat, then his gaze settled on someone in the crowd, chosen "ya, over yonder" he said, nodding his head, a predatory grin on his lips "c'mon, don't go playin' shy on me now. let's see if ya can last longer than the last poor bastard"
⸻ A night out, this environment, she wasn't Lux, she is Liesl. Some of her friends hadn't shown up, and she was all by herself, having a few drinks before heading home. She never lingers too late anyway. She watched the last game before her. Happily in her stool, the invitation took her a bit of guard. Hm. It wasn't like she was shy, because she is a little, but who would ever guess? Considering what she does for a living. ❛ Erhm… I don't really know how to play this game, sir. ❜ Out of respect, after all, they're in another public environment, that wasn't her work. Although she knew the name of her client, she didn't say it, opting for formality.
lingering around the club at odd hours after her shift was rarely a smart move, rather it was usually the kind of mistake she avoided given the awful amount of chance encounters. more often than not astryd would slip out without a second glance back to where she'd come, find another bar for a quick drink, a reset even, then head home and bring herself back into something resembling normality and the kind of life that existed outside of.. everything else.
tonight, though, was different as her head tipped back against the wall, the cool surface grounding as her gaze trailed along the slow curl of cigarette smoke into the night air as she exhaled. the club continued to pulse behind her; muffled bass, laughter and the stagger of the drunks spilling out or being turned away at the door. she gave a small nod to a couple of the dancers passing by, familiar faces in the blur and concealment of the night, then let the quiet settle in around her for just a moment. just long enough to almost disappear into it—
until the sound of approaching footsteps cut through it instead, and the look she shot over in reaction was instinctive as it was sharp, and already annoyed before she even fully turned her head. the words followed just as easily, “no one ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt a lady and her peace?”
⸻ Liesl, or rather "Lux" was trying to leave the club stealthily; her shift had finally ended, and she could wait to be in the arms of her little girl. The problem was that the last client was too clingy, literally; he was making her uncomfortable, before things get pass off limits, she ran away, dodging, crawling… Anything so this man would forget about her. She walked backward, looking in the direction of the door, to make sure she wasn't being chased. This is when she nearly stumbled at Astryd, and her cheeks quickly grew crimson. ❛ Sorry! I didn't mean to! I was just… Well… Erhh…. Nevermind. ❜ She was partially embarrassed that she was hiding in a "childish" way from her client. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was disturb a colleague at work.
exclusive for @lieslvonbismarck, LIESL + PALOMA.
the gilded room, late.
"--And then he has the audacity to call me sweetheart, like I won't cut his balls off right there in front of his little friends, like what the fuck?" Her voice comes out aggressively despite the delicacy with which she handles the mascara tinting her lashes up close in the dressing room mirror, skillfully applied. The situation is nothing that hasn't already been handled, really. The moment the customer talked down to her was the moment his drink ended up spilled over his lap and security was called, but that certainly wasn't going to stop her from bitching about it after the fact. It's something she needs to work on, honestly - in this building, she isn't Paloma, spitfire, she's Dove, a fun girl ready to cater to desire, not make some forty-year-old wet his pants. Oops.
"You should stick to what you know, that's what he said to my face, Lux," Stage names are sacred here; these girls are untouchable, unreal. Dove turns to face the other woman, her tirade continuing, long legs adorned in stockings and dark hair pinned to hold the curl. "So I was like, I know you tip like shit and that your wife is probably fucking your brother but you're too busy at a strip club to notice. He didn't like that. Like, honestly, you couldn't pay me enough to deal with some of this shit. They really need to start doing background checks, some of these dudes are fucking crazy." She sighs, a shake of her head, and - as though just remembering she is actually with someone and not just ranting to a stranger, she smiles, bright and easy. "Anyway. How's your night been? Easy, I hope."
⸻ Liesl was silent, listening to "Dove" babbling, her mouth moved way too much, but then; it was something she used to… Be surrounded by talkative people. The blonde was very enigmatic, but in situations as this one, she was occasionally nodding her head as if it was her silent way to say she was, as a matter of fact, listening to her. ( and she truly was ). Lux was an enigmatic persona, and Liesl as well, except that she was a bit of a softie. It was these moments, when she could, she watched her little one through the camera she installed in her phone, and checked if there was any message from the nanny. Bad news runs fast, right? Good news, not so much. As there wasn't any message over there, it means that everything was okay at home.
❛ A bit dull, but I felt I was more of a therapist than an actual dancer; the client wanted to talk to me. He was…. ❜ A pause, as she tries to think of a good adjective for her client. ❛ Lonely, I supposed. ❜ This wasn't the word she wanted to say, but it was the one that came to her mind. ❛ Ah, those pig men were there today, but I held my temper. Like chess, I was waiting for my strategic move for a checkmate. ❜
rory hadn’t really been paying attention to the game, her thoughts elsewhere until the woman's voice pulled her back in. her eyes lifted to the screen just in time to catch the replay and she winced at the impact, a quiet breath slipping out. “ same, ” she agreed with a nod. “ that looked brutal. i don’t think i’d last even five minutes out there, ” she let out a chuckle. “ it’s fun to watch though. i went to a game once with my dad—he’s a huge giants fan—didn’t really get all of it, but the energy in the stadium was infectious. ” a small smile tugged at her lips, something a little nostalgic slipping in. “ are you into sports at all? or more just here for the drink and a break tonight? ”
⸻ Elsa listened to what Rory just shared, and she winced at watching the replay. That boxing match was certainly memorable. She shifted her attention to her. ❛ I just came for a drink and a break tonight. I, well, I don't do sports… But I like to keep my body moving, in practice, a physical activity. ❜ She shared. ❛ My father isn't into many sports; he would rather watch MMA, Boxing, and Martial Arts in general. Which is the only "sport" I grew up watching. ❜ The Swedish blonde now looked at her drink in hand and requested another.
( ↻ ) sloane watches the match with such focus that she nearly misses elsa’s comment. “ oh yeah that definitely will hurt. a liver punch is enough to take anyone out. contact sports definitely aren’t for everyone. ” her attention drifts back to the fight on the screen. “ but i will say that was a clean punch they landed. ” she reaches for her drink, and turns back to face elsa. “ are you not a big fan of spectator sports ? or just never really got into them ? ”
⸻ Elsa was watching the fight on TV. She enjoyed watching UFC. ❛ I know. ❜ Once the fight ended… Only replaying the highlight of the best moment in the ring, the initial everything was too slow. Then she took a sip of her drink, asking the bartender to make a new one. ❛ I like being a spectator, but not the "fighter" in this case. I grew up watching UFC often. It was the only sport my father enjoyed. Are you a fighter or just enjoy watching this Spartan sport?❜
“ yeah, knee on knee is bad, ” says kelen, nodding while he keeps his eyes glued on the screen, watching a fellow hockey player struggling on the ice and getting help from his teammates. it looks like an mcl tear — and it looks bad — making kelen shake his head as he sits up straight, finally looking at elsa. “ you’re not a fan of contact sports? ” he asks, offering her a small smile. “ or sports in general? better question, what sport would you play? ”
⸻ She kept her eyes glued to the TV, grimacing at the accident on the screen, but overall, everything was working out smoothly. ❛ I wouldn't say that. Just the way it was played… I don't know. I like winter sports, but I was more into skiing. ❜ Skiing doesn't have the same emotion as hockey, but it was her kind of jam. ❛ I would do MMA or boxing. I like those. They're undoubtedly more violent, and there's something about it that is very appealing to me…. How about you? ❜
⸻ It was a nice night out, her twins were with the nanny, and she needed a break for herself. Socializing more. She was having a glass of Gin tonic, and watching a random game that was on display, she saw the player get injured at the stadium, and she grimaced. ❛ Ugh, that hurts. ❜ She thought out loud, realizing she actually said the words, feeling the blush of her cheeks. ❛ I'd never play this sport… ❜ She says it to the person next to her.
"Hey,hi, um... hello,” Ben called awkwardly, one hand raised to get the person’s attention while the other grabbed at the fabric of his pants, trying to subtly free himself from the thing attempting to eat his leg.
“Is this…” He waved his hand in the air, gesturing toward the dog growling and forcefully tugging at him. “…yours?” he asked, a strained smile on his lips as if he were trying to act like the situation was completely normal and as if he wasn't extremely scared and uncomfortable.
Elsa was distracted by seeing the other pets. Her friend just bid her goodbye, and when she was about to leave, she saw Ben waving awkwardly at her, and she looked around to make sure if it was for her or someone else near her. As she realized it was her, she approached him. ❛ I don't have pets. But I can help you to figure out its owner.❜
Her only reason she was there was that a friend wanted to vent and she couldn't say "no".
