#𝙼𝚈𝚃𝙷𝙱𝙻𝙴𝙳 : a dependent mumu for 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨𝙬 , with muses as imagined by bee ( she + her , 26 , est ) . a study in haunted men / dead men / men marked to die , love as a service only the wounded can serve , toeing the line between girlhood and monstrosity , what people call history ⸻ you call home , and a mouth full of teeth and so you only ever learned to bite.
perhaps paulina was naive to think forks was some sort of utopia. she'd always heard that small towns had their secrets, but nothing about this place signaled anything out of the ordinary — at least, not past what's already conspired. years of earth-dwelling should've thickened her skin, and did, in some aspects, but this was something pau couldn't shake, not right now. “ she's probably so cold. ” she muttered to herself, eyes fixed towards the ground, mindless babbling as shoes crunch against loose gravel, resonating against the emptiness of the town center. if only someone could see the way paulina's features coarsened the moment her eyes met with the other's obscured silhouette. “ i haven't done anything wrong, ” voice shattering the silence, always on self-defense. “ i'm just out for a walk — need'a clear my head. ”
venturing into town hadn't been a part of everett's plans for the day , the streets busier than they normally would have been at this time of the night ⸻ or anytime past sunset , really. but with the news of the missing girl spreading like wildfire , even he had been coaxed out of the woods in an attempt to aid in her search. not that he was turning up any leads , or anything even remotely useful ; the air thick and clouded with the scent of undead filth , entirely overwhelming his own sense of smell. ❝ 'cause you'd know all about being cold , leech ? not that you can even feel it for yourself. ❞ keeping his distance , but close enough to remind her of the threat he was , his glare was near piercing throughout his entire once - over of the vampire , as if the answers would present themselves through sheer force of will alone. ❝ why ⸻ need time to come up with some excuses for what your kind did to the girl ? ❞
what. event one, the bonfire. time. 8:00 pm. location. nestled deeply into conversation around the fire, warm smiles — and cold looks — and laughter throughout.
bodhi doesn’t lie. not really. he just… tucks the truth away when it feels like too much light. but if anyone ever asked him his favorite place in the world — la push, just as the tide starts to turn, might earn the quiet answer. he’s there now, shoes dug into cool sand, curls falling into his eyes, sweatshirt hanging off his frame like it's one size too big. a lazy smile curls at his mouth as he half-sips a beer gone warm, already scoping out what food to devour next. the presence beside him isn’t ignored (they never are — not with him), and still, he plays it cool, like he can’t already feel something shifting. he turns slow, only free hand full of graham crackers and chocolate, the other fumbling toward the bag of marshmallows, fingers barely grazing the edge. "please tell me you’re here to make s’mores, because i physically do not have the hand capacity for this." he says, looking up as he speaks next, his eyes connecting with theirs. "and i’m gonna be eating, like… twelve of them, so."
attending the bonfire is a rather tried and true lesson in loneliness for siobhan ⸻ the familiar sensation of entering all manner of situations uninvited , and yet with her head still held unhindered and high. for even with the open invitation extended to all , it's waddling into a sea of unfamiliar faces and rather worryingly delicious scents that has her chasing a lifeline ; clinging to the first recognizable face she sees. accompanied by the overwhelming scent of sweetness , this time of a more human and chocolatey kind , and the hand that currently holds , the distraction comes easy enough once she attempts to pick apart the sight before her ( and here siobhan thought she could be considered greedy for overindulging in a bite of flesh or two ). so while she wasn't certain as to how exactly a s'more would taste , there was no way it justified the eating of an entire dozen of the overly sticky treats. ❝ this must be the type of greed they talked about in the bible , your poor , poor dentist. ❞ plucking the bag of marshmallows from him , she fished out a handful to have at the ready once he got to the actual roasting bit. ❝ … don't you need a stick ? ⸻ you're not planning on sticking your entire hand into the fire , are you ? i was informed the barbecue already happened at six. ❞
he'd opted for resignation — the slow moss, moving silently amongst the sea of festivities. it wasn't foreign to rafa, making an appearance only to remain stuck to the perimeter. at least he was there, nestled under his windbreaker as crisp wind kissed at his nose, shoes digging into the toughened sand. the night was still early, so much that the sun and moon both showed up, too. it was mesmerizing, he nearly missed the shuffling of sand — he would've, probably, had it not been for his unusual circumstances. “ you — uh, ” he laughs, rather sheepishly, letting down his hood so as to not obscure his face, “ no, you can sit there, it's okay. " a few beats, allowing the silence to swell, until it inevitably pops. " almost a decade here 'n it's still weird to me how late the sun sets — it never fully sets, like, you can always see this glow. ”
she's certain her footsteps should be falling near muted upon the sand ⸻ the bare peeking of her toes , painted a soft petal pink and cradled within a laughably high wedge heel ( a sure classic for any beachfront venture ) leaving only the barest of indents over her path. with a grace worth envying , and practiced to perfection over the stretch of a full century , it only adds to the overall … strangeness of the man before her. a veritable mystery , yet not altogether foreign of a face when it greets her from behind a lowered hood. ❝ … and i didn't even need to ask if the seat was taken. ❞ flashing the other a smile full of teeth , she sat herself down with little fanfare , tucking her knees inwards in a learned mimicry of attempting to chase away the cold. ❝ the poor moon , she's so hardworking and the sun won't even give her her time to shine ⸻ the selfish bastard. ❞ a momentary pause , and then siobhan was shooting him a self - satisfied grin ; a barely there effort at matching his near profound mood with her own absurd response. ❝ don't you think it's far too early into the night for that kind of introspection already ? ❞
⇢ EVERETT evokes ... memory as punishment , the pages of your history books overflowing with sin ( always running headfirst towards something you should be walking away from ⸻ the utter refusal to let sleeping dogs lie ) / the realization of a wearied acceptance that this is going to end very , very badly ( pressing forward anyway because it's not like you give a fuck at this point ) / a mouth full of teeth , and so you only ever learned to bite ( a crimson dipped smile the closest thing to comfort you ever learned to give or receive ) / a waste of devotion , now turned violent ( you too , had worshipped something once , had believed in something greater than yourself. but you're finally off your knees now , past the point of desperate prayers , and unwilling to return ).
... # basic information.
full name: everett hawthorne. nicknames: wren , rhett. date of birth: may 3. age: thirty2. species: shapeshifter. gender: cis man. pronouns: he + him. orientation: bisexual. birthplace: pendleton , oregon , usa. current home: forks , washington , usa. staying long term in one of the pine hollow cabins , further off the main paths and deeper into the surrounding forests. occupation: handyman for hire. will do any manner of odd jobs , at a very ' pay what you can ' price point. languages: english. accent: no discernable accent. but has a gruff , near rumbling cadence to his voice ; the words tending to bite the more annoyed he is.
... # physical information.
faceclaim: kiowa gordon. hair: thick , onyx waves that curl at his shoulders ; usually tied back into a low bun and out of his face. while everett was better recognized for his waist length hair for most of his life , he's since begun cutting it shorter after joining the redmaw faction. eyes: dark brown , almost black ; the kind of eyes that threaten to swallow. height: 6'2 / 187cm. build: sturdy and rugged ; feels almost looming. scent: warm and spicy ; most often of smoldering wood , tobacco leaf and cinnamon. dominant hand: right. allergies: none. scars: he's rather covered in them , but they tend to get absorbed into an obvious familiarity to his skin. the only one's that particularly stand out are the crescent line that curves around his right eye , a bite mark on his left hip and the mangled scar tissue across his back in the shape of giant claw marks. distinguishing features: a strong jawline and stern set of his brows , once balanced out by the occasional dimpled smile ; those sharper features that noticeably softened with a kinder grin ⸻ now a stranger to unfamiliar smile lines , endless stories immortalized by the ink upon skin , broad shoulders but a hunched posture that scream of a constant restlessness to his bones. clothing style: a wide variety of flannels , henley shirts and basic tees with faded designs ; his trusted carhartt work jacket always thrown over top ( because it's his favourite , or because it's the only one he owns ... ? we'll never know ... ). dark denim jeans shoved into haphazardly laced work boots. everett's the type to buy new clothing once in a blue moon , and even then it's usually forced upon him.
... # personality.
label: the relentless. mbti: istp. enneagram: the investigator. element: fire. star sign: taurus. temperament: choleric - melancholic. character inspirations: han solo ( star wars ) + rick grimes ( the walking dead ) + john murphy ( the 100 ) + five ( umbrella academy ). deadly sin: wrath. heavenly virtue: diligence. godly parent: hephaestus.
... # drives.
hobbies: woodworking , long drives , volunteering / working with the animals at palmo & morrison acreages , watching movies ( at home , not the theatre ). religion: spiritual but not religious. alliance: the redmaw faction. personal goals: all vamps must die. family or power? power , but if you ask everett , he did it for family.
— do you think the old ways failed you, or were you never invited in?
they've certainly failed you ⸻ but it's no one's fault , not really. not when they've failed just about everyone. they had tried so hard to bring you in from the cold , to prove to you its possibilities. they had tried to show you a better way , a peaceful way. where blood and bitterness weren't a constant tinge to your taste buds , where you could speak with words and not the bite of your teeth. but it's not their fault you could never rise above the violence in your veins , or a power that had to be proven , had to be enforced.
— who would you hurt to prove a point?
an easier question is who wouldn't you hurt. a much shorter list , to be sure , and even then the assurance wavers depending on your ever changing moods. you want to deem yourself a protector , a stable defence that simply does what must be done. but the truth is much lonelier , you know this , and far more ugly than you dare to admit. your heart is as rotten as it is temperamental , and hardened into a weapon willing to do anything if it means you'll win.
— are you chasing revenge or trying to be feared?
it's not a decision of either or , but at the end of the day : simply a fact. you desire revenge , and to attain it , you must be feared. for how else would they know never to touch what you loved ? how else would you ensure no other wolf would be forced to live through the losses you had endured ? you'll get your revenge , and through it , they will know to fear what brought its fruition.
— do you miss the bond you severed, or did it never feel real?
it's a lie to say you don't miss it ⸻ and you've never been the best at lying. to yourself , perhaps , but before others ? you are forced to expose yourself to the truth. you miss what the word family had used to mean , before it tasted of the grave upon your tongue. you miss a heart once unclouded with hatred , and a level head that could stop to breathe deep before the dive. what you don't miss , however , is what keeps you from falling prey to their false promises once more. the loss it brought about , the uncertainties beneath a leader so riddled with indecisions , that it would bring about the end of not only yourself , but your people as a whole.
— do you believe wolves were meant to rule?
undoubtedly.
... # important.
nephew to elias blackthorn , the patriach of the graypine pack. everett was a once - pillar to the pack himself , up until he left eight years ago. a betrayal in the eyes of family and friends , yet one tinged with a bitter understanding. having lost his mother and younger siblings to a ‘ unexplainable ’ attack ten years ago , it was a injustice that he could not leave unanswered ; where his own betrayal stemmed from the lack of action from his own pack ⸻ his own uncle.
has since turned to the redmaw as his chosen form of justice , and lives in a semi permanent state of self imposed exile. rarely interacting with graypine , and turning away those he once loved , his only solace comes from the promise of blood and vengeance against all vampires.
not necessarily a mean guy , just grumpy and not looking for #deeperconnections ( or so he says … ) after he severed all his previous ties. and while he's not exactly a good person , and probably one yank on his leash away from going fully rabid … he's still trying his best to not take so much of his anger out on the every day person , the rest of the world. it's a large part of why he's taken on being a handyman for easy , and affordable hire. a true team player <333
probably deeply ( if not a bit obsessively ) protective over the redmaw members … as much as he denies it and tries to pretend elsewise , it's unfortunately in his blood to need something to see himself as protector for. revenge might fuel his overall fire , but much of his day to day activities are intertwined with the redmaw faction.
⇢ SIOBHAN evokes ... loneliness as the only friend you've ever had to call your own ( you make tea for one and leave the radio playing … anything to prove there's more to life than this endless void of solitude ) / toeing the line between girlhood and monstrosity ( with each side begging for you to turn away from the other. a clashing instinct of love and blood , one stuck between your ribcage and the other within your teeth ) / pink glittered fantasies and candied perfume ( you smell of something sweet and cloying ; alluring enough to draw the eye but leaving the viewer instinctually flinching ⸻ wondering on what horrors might linger just beneath the surface ) / the curious glimmer in red to gold to red again eyes ( you just can't seem to make up your mind , can you ? now if only someone would come along and make it for you ).
... # basic information.
full name: siobhan everly walsh. nicknames: vonnie. date of birth: october 9 , 1920. age: twenty6 / 105. species: hybrid. gender: cis woman. pronouns: she + her. orientation: bisexual. birthplace: kilkenny , ireland. current home: forks , washington , usa. renting a two bedroom apartment close to the city center. occupation: receptionist at cedar creek clinic. languages: english , irish , french. accent: has a base kilkenny irish accent , which falls soft but smooth on listening ears. has adapted certain americanized pronunciations of specific words after living in the states for the past decade.
... # physical information.
faceclaim: ashley moore. hair: chest length , warm brown curls. always shining , unbearably soft. her signature look as of late are hip length goddess braids ; either left loose or pulled out of her face into a high ponytail for work. eyes: hazel , but more brown than green , with unusual flecks of red or gold ( depending on that month's diet ). height: 5'4 / 162cm. build: has a classical ballerina build ; lithe and long legged. scent: sweet vanilla , yuzu , and pomegranate. dominant hand: ambidextrous. allergies: none. scars: none. distinguishing features: an entirely too expressive countenance , perpetually blushed - pink cheeks , a curious twinkle in her eyes , a heart / star / flower beneath her left eye stamped with an eyeliner pen , painted nails ; always perfectly manicured. clothing style: leans towards romantic elegance and feminine - prep , with a preference for pinks , purples and pastels. adores skirts and dresses , as well as accessorizing with statement pieces. tends to stand out when entering most rooms , and nearly screams her presence in dreary forks.
... # personality.
label: the unsettled , the ingénue. mbti: enfp. enneagram: the enthusiast. element: air. star sign: libra. temperament: sanguine - choleric. character inspirations: pearl ( pearl ) + rapunzel ( tangled ) + alexis rose ( schitt's creek ) + anne shirley ( anne with an e ). deadly sin: gluttony. heavenly virtue: charity. godly parent: hermes.
... # drives.
hobbies: shopping ( online and in person ) , travelling , building mini fairy gardens and terrariums , exploring local myths , causing a scene. religion: agnostic , but mostly indifferent. alliance: none </3. personal goals: finally get some answers , find a place to belong. family or power? power. it's not like she has a family to choose or be chosen by.
— what story were you told about your origin? do you believe it?
what a novel idea , to know anything of your origins. what a life it could have been , to have even the slightest of clues. all you were ever given were the breadcrumbs of a story , a winding trail that led nowhere but back to your own reflection. in mirrors and shallow pools , you stare into the eyes that stare back ⸻ empty of answers , void of truth. you had pondered and mystified for as long as you've been alive , first running yourself ragged until the footsteps had dragged to a slow contempt. you've tried it all , and in the end : discovered nothing.
— when did you first realize the hunger wouldn’t ever fully go away?
it's always been there in the back of your throat , a lingering feeling of the need to bite and bleed. as a child , you learned to scavenge from only what could not rise against you and speak , creatures and critters , until you were old enough to finally take. without fear , above reproach. well into your teenaged years , and of the next few you attempt to satiate the hunger until it is fit to bursting. after all , why hold back from gorging ⸻ from filling such an endless void ? the world had well enough blood to spare , those sinners and criminals that no one would bother to miss , and would do well as cannon fodder against the hunger running through your veins. it never worked , but you were nothing if not a lesson in getting up and trying again , in endless effort. ( besides , it was always fun to try and win at the impossible , your win some lose some mentality an easy encouragement ).
— if there were others like you in forks, would you find them or avoid them?
you've been trying your entire life to find others like yourself , and you're sure the first thing you'd do is mow them over in your excitement. finally a step closer to getting answers , and always hopeful in your desires , of maybe even finding a place to belong.
— what part of yourself do you still not understand?
you like to think of it less of the parts you don't understand , and more of additional discoveries to uncover and love. you're well rounded enough , and almost overly sure in your sense of self , but there are layers still waiting to be pried back and poked at. still : you've accepted your … eccentricities with unparalleled grace , and what you feared , you've learned to conquer instead. so who's to say what's wrong or right with you , only that you're simply you.
— how do you survive when every side sees you as a question mark?
you'll simply have to show them. you're beyond just surviving , and have long since moved on to living it up as you feel is deserved. with plenty of years spent going back and forth with yourself on what you feel is the right way ⸻ you've filled in your own blanks as you see fit , and everyone else is just going to have to get with the program.
... # narrative.
life for you has always been one big question mark in the making. a brief shine of a hopeful beacon , fading away to darkness upon the swift realization that you truly know nothing at all. another face in the windows of the farmhouse that raised you , an orphanage in name , but a prison in reality. you are … exquisitely beautiful , even from your first breath , but beauty is not enough to make you wanted , it seems , to provide for you a home. dropped off amongst the handful of other children , you grow at a pace that is undefinable , near terrifying , but still overlooked by those that raise you ; those that had provided a means of survival , and little further in terms of actual care.
you move through life with hesitant footsteps , that only later will learn to strut. years spent nervously on the outsides of a world that could not explain you , and so could never truly accept you. nibbling at the leftover morsels and handfuls of crumbs thrown your way , this is how you gain a taste for obsessing over an acceptance that will never , ever come. drifting through families , ghostlike and hollowed , the love you learn to savour is as conditional and fleeting as their very mortal lives. for they teach you how to blend in , but at the cost of lessening your sense of self. you learn to hide away the pieces of monstrosity that puzzle together a girl ⸻ not girl , human but always something more. still : you try it , time and time again , to be good and pretend. sometimes you succeed , most times , you do not.
there are stories of a killer along the irish coasts and smaller towns throughout history , of unexplainable deaths and the remains of bodies torn bloody and drained. years where your eyes grew red and hungry , embracing the pull of something much darker and divine. pockets of time where the golden light grew dim , and your hunt for answers near hopeless , manifesting in bouts of defiant anger , and desperation for someone or something to blame.
back and forth between the constant control of such violently opposing parts of you , you learn to love whatever part does win in equal measure. for if no one else will , shouldn't you , at the very least not ? nowadays , guilt is fleeting in your memories , and indulgences overly adored. you tell yourself you are past the point of needing anyone's acceptance , ignoring the quiet voices that argue you are very much not. living according to your whims , and hoarding what you will , it's a curiosity that has you settling down in forks ⸻ a curious pull you couldn't even begin to explain , but would follow anyways , because why the hell not ?
character name & faceclaim: siobhan walsh ( ashley moore ).
group / species: hybrid , unaffiliated.
vibe check:
3 words: assertive + curious + hedonistic.
additional: pinterest.
the writing.
what's the best & worst part about being in two worlds?
it's hard to say what the best and worst of anything is when you're still so unsure of what either world truly entails. with no guidance through either , your life has been an endless stretch of stumbling through one mess to the next. learning as you go , forced to make up your own rules. the ‘ world ’ as you know it is full of constantly changing opinions , and the eventual conclusion and surety in yourself above all else.
you thrive in the power that comes from being something other ⸻ something more , while cruising by on the anonymity that allows you to blend in. you are not so different that it draws a dangerous eye , but only so much that it elevates the path before you.
still , it would be nice , wouldn't it , to finally understand a sense of belonging for once.
if they could be full human , or full vampire , which would they choose?
why would you ever want to become anything less than what you are ? while you'd hate to give in to either direction , becoming fully human would certainly diminish the person you are today.
becoming a full vampire would have its challenges , yes , but it wouldn't be impossible to adapt ⸻ eventually. in turn , becoming fully human is a rather terrifying thought. you've built an entire identity around what sets you apart , and what differences shine through. for if you have nothing , you still have the traits of being special , of being something unique. to turn human and simply have … nothing ? what could you possibly hope to do with that.
character name & faceclaim: everett hawthorne ( kiowa gordon ).
group / species: shapeshifter , the redmaw faction.
vibe check:
3 words: angry + guilt ridden + revenge fueled.
additional: pinterest.
the writing.
when was their first shift?
the first shift comes when you're young and angry , manifesting as something dark and terribly deep ; bursting forth from the very core of your being. looking back on it now , you're not so different to the boy you were then. older , certainly ⸻ weary , but still brimming with a flood of emotions that threaten to control you , far more than you could ever hope to control them.
fourteen and stumbling across still - soft paws , your footprints come down heavy upon the forest floor , teeth threatening to snap , on family , upon friends. it is a violent shift , as it always seems to be , with powerful limbs that seek to stretch their worth and claw forth blood and bone. you remember the stern command of ‘ learn to control this anger ’ , and the lines in your uncle's face as he worried for the fire that would continue to burn. eating away at the forests around you , at the loved ones you had sworn to protect . until eventually ⸻ there would be nothing left to burn but your own damn self.
it's a lesson in control , shifting , and to this day you walk a very thin line of being in control , and losing it completely.
do they feel connected to the old stories?
you like to think of yourself as connected , but evolved. the stories to be taken as a cautionary tale above all , of how those before you had failed ⸻ and how you could take those lessons , and now do better.
there's a reason you've turned to the redmaw as the solution , where the stories would have preferred you still comfortable and meek amongst the graypine pack. you might have lost your family in the fracture , your name and place of belonging , but what you have gained from it is a connection far stronger than to the pull of time and its tales. what you have gained is a righteousness in your anger , and new bonds that promise to bring upon the world a much needed change.
