Graveyard Girl

Death is her boyfriend She spits on summers and smiles to the night She collects crowns made of black roses But her heart is made of bubble gum This is an RP blog for Serenity Marconi and affiliated with Unholy Origins a Supernatural RP

[notawhitewitch]

Basic Statistics

Full Name: Serenity Isabella Grace Marconi

Nickname: Ser

How’d they get it?:  It was what Kieran used to call her

Age: 25

Date of Birth: September 19

Species: human/witch

Gender: female

Nationality:  Mexican, Italian, Spanish, and Hungarian-Roma

Hometown:  Detroit, Michigan

Current Residence:  A 1959 black Cadillac Superior hearse

Vehicle:  see above

Occupation: Procurer of Ancient and Formidable Relics, Dealer of Curses, Raiser of the Dead!  Also, part time antiquarian, anthropology/archaeology student, and fortune teller. 

For how long?: Speaking to the dead and reading futures, all her life.  Everything else have been fairly recent additions, as in within the last four years

Do they like his/her job?: Very much so.

Abilities

What animal best represents them?: Crow

Hand-to-Hand capability: Proficient.  She can defend herself if need be, but prefers to keep distance between herself and danger.

When did they start learning?: about three years ago

Who taught them?: Her maternal grandparents, and an ex-army sergeant werewolf named Kenny Larsson

Weapons training:  knives, bow and arrow (recurve), sticks

When did they start learning?:  Post-possession as a means to increase mental, physical, and emotional fortitude

Physical strength: she can lift her own body weight and carry quite a bit, but endurance is her strength

Speed: PARKOUR!  She’s extremely flexible and agile which helps to make her quite quick.

Planning: Depends on the situation.  Anywhere from five minutes to six months to never.

Family

Any significant ancestors?: Yes.  She’s related to Giueseppi Marconi on her father’s side, and a Hungarian Countess via the wrong side of the sheets on her maternal grandmother’s side.

Grandparents (describe relationship): Paternal - very close.  She lived with them in Rome for a time when she was a child.  Grandmother died when she was nine, Grandfather a year later.

Maternal:  both still living (as far as she knows) - also very close.  They’re the reasons she is even alive today.

Aunts/Uncles (describe relationship):  Several on her father’s side, but only one is anything approaching to close.  Uncle Ubaldo, her father’s younger brother, he’s the black sheep on that side of the family.

Parents (describe relationship):  Cold and distant.  She’s the child of a love potion.  Her father was bespelled by her mother, the one time she wanted something bad enough she used her magic to attain it, and never truly loved her.  Serenity’s mother took out all her resentment on her daughter, even blaming her for her father’s suicide.  The woman ended her own life soon after, leaving Serenity orphaned by age 12.

Are they still together?:  Maybe in death they are, but chances are, her father took his chance at freedom and ran for it.

Birth order: Only Child

Siblings (describe relationship): see above

Marital status: currently single

Partner: Kieran Hayes, before he suicided

Have they ever had any pets?:  Two crows named Hugin and Munin, a goat named Bela Lagoatsie, two cats named Hector and Mildred.  Via Kieran, an English Shepard named Jameson.  All are gone now except Bela. 

Favorites

Favorite foods: Fried chicken, chocolate cake, tiramisu, garlic stuffed olives

Least favorite food: organ meats by themselves

Favorite colors: black, purple, and acid green

Least favorite color: yellow

Music: classical, classic rock, goth, power metal, punk

Literature: EVERYTHING  She’s a voracious reader.

Smell: clean laundry, fresh dirt, and the earth after the rain

Feeling: Peace

Season: Autumn

Pets: All of them.

Place: snuggled in bed with Kieran, buried together under a huge pile of blankets

Favorite sport(s): Hockey and baseball.

Possession this character values most:  Her necklaces.  

Why is it so important to them?: One is the cross necklace that belonged to Kieran, and his father before him.  The other is a blessed St. Michael medallion given to her by Father Martinez to help keep her demon free.

Physical Characteristics

Height: 5’10″

Weight: 127 lbs.

Body build: tall and lanky

Eye Color: Green

Glasses or contact lenses?: Sometimes glasses.  When she’s reading a great deal or working on some fiddly craft or other.

Hair Color: Brown with gold and auburn highlights

Type of hair: Long and wavy

Hairstyle: Some, if not all, is always tied back

Complexion and skin tone: Dusky or “ambiguously brown” as she’s been described

Any particular blemishes?:  A facial mole, just under and to the side of her nose.

Shape of Face:  Rectangular

Scent: nag champa, frankincense, sandalwood, and oak moss

Voice: Surprisingly girlish with very round, rich tones due to vocal training.

Mannerisms:  Business-like, polite, professional, and distant.  If she becomes comfortable with you, she warms up significantly, and you learn she takes very little seriously in life. 

Health: Excellent, if a little underweight.  Active runner, parkour, regular yoga, weapons training, and meditation.

Style: Gothic Hippie

How do they walk?: Purposefully.  Long strides, firm heel strikes, she looks like she’s marching to kick someone’s ass unless she’s preoccupied.  Then she’s lucky to make it out of the kitchen in one piece.

What are their Nervous Tics: Clamming up or resorting to monosyllabic answers.  Cold hands, sweating at the hairline.

Usual Body Posture: Tall and squared up.  She carries herself like a puppet on a string.

Do they have any disabilities?: No.

Speech patterns: Depends.  Around strangers, she tends to be cool and professional, peppered with slang.  Around friends, very similar except it’s warmer in tone and tend not to sound so much like a lecture.

Preferred Clothing:

Shirts: t-shirts of her favorite bands, tank tops, long sleeved henley style for when it’s cold, and typically layered under tees

Pants: leather for Work, sometimes skinny jeans in the winter

Skirts: everything from mini skirts to plaid school-girl style to ankle length flowy types

Jackets: customized leather (protective and defensive spells stitched on the lining, collar, and cuffs) for Work, ankle length embroided wool, wrap jackets.  She has an addiction to jackets.

Shoes: black leather paratrooper boots for Work, Doc Martens, heels and wedges when necessary, prefers to be barefoot as often as possible

Accessories: silk kimonos, scarves, large earrings, silver rings with semi-precious stones but now just her St. Michael medallion and Kieran’s cross

Formal wear: whenever necessary

Sleeping wear: typically naked but sometimes underwear and a tank top

Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and Attitudes:

Did they go to school?: Yes

Where?: She attended some grade school (primary) in Rome, Italy for two years then returned to Michigan where she attended Cranbrook.

What did they learn?: musical performance, dance, singing along with the standard high school curriculum

Did they complete the curriculum?: Graduated with honors.

What were their grades like?:  Excellent.  Always on the honor roll.

Native language: English and Italian.

Do they know any other languages?: Spanish learned when she moved in with her maternal grandparents, along with Hungarian and some Romani taught to her by her maternal grandmother.

How smart are they?:  Very.  Excellent books smarts and problem solving.  Fairly street savvy, but tends to not think well when she’s nervous.

What are their strengths?: memory, creativity, quick learner

Weaknesses?: suspicious, untrusting, insecure

Any Mental Illnesses?: Anxiety and depression prone

Character’s short-term goals in life: Find the Winchesters.

Character’s long-term goals in life: Be destroyed by the Winchesters.

How does your Character see themselves?:  Weak. Inconsequential.  Unworthy.  Ultimately worth only what she can do for others.

How does your Character believe they are perceived by others?:  Snotty, arrogant, standoffish, obnoxious, and above all: weird.

How self-confident is your character?: In herself, not very.  She is however very confident in her knowledge and skill sets, along with her ability to stubbornly outlast whatever may choose to contend with her. 

What makes their self-confidence waver?:  When she’s being yelled at, or feels like she’s on the outside of things.  When she feels as though she’s become any type of burden and outstayed her welcome.

What would embarrass your character the most?: Failing at anything she’s attempting in front of a crowd of onlookers.

How does your character feel about love:  That it isn’t meant for her, and if anyone claimed to love her, she would call them crazy.  She frequently called Kieran such.

About crime:  “Crime” is largely a grey area outside of rape, or murder.  Sometimes situations call for strong, yet questionable, measures.

Politics?: Sort of a moot point during the apocalypse, but they were kind of a hobby of hers.  She has many strong opinions and views, but it’s been a minute since she’s been able to discuss them.  Hell, it’s been a minute since they were relevant to life.

People of a different sexuality?: This means a grand total of nothing to her.  You are who you are, and you love who you love.  Just don’t be a dick about it.  

Different nationality/race?:  American is just the internationally accepted word for “mutt”.

How does your character show affection/love?:  In true Italian fashion, she feeds you.  She will also do little things that will make your life easier.  Laundry, dishes, she’ll pack a lunch for you, nurse you back to health, etc.

How does your character handle grief?:  Numbness.  Quiet.  Going off by herself like a wounded animal, and hiding.

What are they like when they cry?: quiet, over-emotional, irrational at times. but she hates crying and will NOT cry easily.

What can make them cry?:  She’s cried so much in her life that at this point, her eyes have run a little dry.  However, she can be caught entirely off guard by sweet gestures and reduced to a puddle of girl tears.

How does your character handle physical pain?:  Deep breathing.  If she’s in trouble and gets hurt, she’ll be as quiet as possible, so a great deal of teeth grinding and jaw clenching.  If she’s somewhere safe and can let it out, there will be swearing and yelling and either hopping around or throwing things.

Emotional pain?:  Much like she handles grief.  At this point, it sort of all blurs together.

Is your character typically a leader or a follower?: Both and neither.  She tends to be a loner, but there are always situations that come up where one has to work with others.  Depending on whether or not she respects the chosen leader, she’ll follow, or if not, she’ll do her own thing and be a leader in her own right.

Are they ‘big picture’ or ‘little details’?:  Details.  She lives and breathes details and finishing touches, and often has to remind herself of the larger game.

What kind of energy level does your character typically display?:  Nervous energy.  She’s always occupying herself with something.  Cooking, reading, house work, knitting, sewing, gardening.  She’s kind of a busy person.

Describe their sense of humor:  Sarcastic, dry, and punny.  She loves puns and bad jokes.

Hobbies:  Gardening, knitting, sewing, blending tea, reading tarot, writing and playing music, dancing, cooking, baking, and eating.

Talents:  Healing, raising the dead, talking to ghosts, music, cooking/baking, picking out lies.

Extremely unskilled at:  People, group activities, communicating her feelings, needs, and wants, standing up for herself, percussion instruments, letting go, relaxing. 

If any, what musical instruments can they play?: Violin, voice, and piano.

Emotional Characteristics:

How does character relate to others?: Awkwardly.  She tries to find common ground between herself and others, and may play dumb just to be accepted.

How does the character deal with anger?:  Scowling, jaw clenching, and more deep breathing.  She’s had to learn to control her temper as she’s accidentally blown things up when she was younger.  Then she’ll go running.  Run, and run, and run until everything falls away.

With sadness?: Alcohol and more running.

With conflict?: Nervous sweats.  Followed by alcohol, regret, and more running.

With change?:    Suspicion, side eyeing, alcohol, and running.  This really is where she does her best thinking.

With loss?: Sighing, alcohol, moping, self-recrimination for moping, and back to the running.

What does your character want out of life?:  Peace, and to not be a burden.

What would your character like to change in his/her life?:  Being born.

What motivates your character?:  The need to make up for the harm she’s done, for her existence, learning new things, sunsets, good meals.  Lots of different things. 

What frightens your character?:  Handsome men who want to be more than friends, arguing, fire, not being “good enough”, more people dying because of her.

Are they afraid of the Dark?: No.

Death?:  It’s the last great adventure.  It’s what comes after that’s more frightening.

What makes your character happy?:  Good food, good music, dancing, running, her garden, and her chickens.

Sad?:  Needless suffering, pointless pain, casual cruelty, abuse, her memories.

Is your character judgmental of others?:  Yeah, but for completely shallow reasons like a bad haircut, wearing a certain color, choice of sports teams, music taste.  Sometimes, she’s as deep as a puddle.

Is your character generous or stingy?: Generous in every sense except herself.  She keeps herself to herself, but food? Clothes? Time? Help?  She’s your girl.

Is your character generally polite or rude?:  Polite.  There’s never an excuse for bad manners.  Even when someone pisses her off, she mostly ends up being condescending.

Optimistic or Pessimistic?: Realist.  She’s very hopeful that we’re all going to die.

Introvert or Extrovert?: Functional introvert.

Daredevil or Cautious?:  Depends on the situation?  If it involves international travel, sketchy locales, and shady people? Totally a daredevil, even if she doesn’t see it that way.  Making friends and associating with other people? Cautious.  Nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Logical or Emotional?: Logical to the point of coldness.

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?:  A messy desk is a sign of a healthy mind, or some nonsense like that.  Presenting a final product, always methodical and neat.  Everything else is up for grabs.

Would they rather be working or relaxing?: Working. Always working.

How do they feel about animals?:  Huge animal lover.  Her old home was basically a small, inner city farm.

They are most at ease when: Ensconced in her home with her animals, a cup of hot tea, and a good book or craft to work on.

Ill at ease when:  Pretty much everything else is outside her comfort zone.

What is their best quality?:  She doesn’t believe she has one, but it would be her kindness and motherly nature.

What is their biggest flaw?:  She writes people off too quickly.

[notawhitewitch]

Seek and Ye Shall Find || Serenity & Sam

[notawhitewitch]

areyouhummingmetallica:

☽ - well you’ve found them.

those words flutter through his head as an unspoken response. and he has to wonder what kind of ‘intel’ is out there.  who’s talking and why.  as much as the eldridge was a bit of a temporary ‘sanctuary’ - it would probably also become a target.   people, creatures, angels, demons - for one reason or another, converging on a singular hotspot.  and sam was dreading the day when that sanctuary became more of a ‘ground zero’ for an outpouring of hate, of blame… of demands for their heads on poles, or reparation of a broken planet.  and he knows - he does - that this whole mess… rests on their ( his ) shoulders.

and he has no clue why this woman would be looking. seeking them out to slide a blade between their ribs - ‘thanks for jump-starting the apocalypse asshole’… perhaps.  or maybe hearing of a place which was ( relatively ) safe - simply wanting shelter, protection, a place to rest her head without fear of it being hacked off by one of the crazies still roaming the streets, being able to wake up and blink eyes of vibrant color and not oil slick black to the world.

so yeah - he doesn’t know. and yeah - he’s not throwing caution to the wind just yet. but she’s kinda just sprung the magic words on him - ‘i really need their help’… …and that’s what they do.  when they can.  where they can.  for whoever they can.

he feels a little under scrutiny - ( then again, who isn’t? ) though he’s not shy on observation himself - watching the woman - serenity - trying to keep an air of relaxed caution.  it’s not an easy balance to reach… and unfortunately, par for the course with any encounter.  but she does seem to be okay with this - this talking at a distance - and there’s not the sharp edge to the atmosphere that there was a mere moment ago.   something as simple as exchanging a name.  getting a gauge for reaction.                         the little things - they helped.

“yeah, i’ve heard of them.   might even know where to find them.”

which was pretty much a ‘yes’ - but the context was clear - he wasn’t going to spill any information until he knew a little more.  which she may, or may not, be willing to tell ‘him’ - ‘sam’ - this random stranger ( and not ‘winchester’, at least, not by revelation… not yet ).  and it’s not like it would be out of the question for something to use a pretty face, sweet smile, a pretense of need to sucker him in… …he’s got a bad track record with that.  

“thing is - with those guys?   people tend to look for them to give ‘em bad news all the time - quite often on the end of a knife or a signed, sealed, delivered bullet to the brain. you can color them the paranoid types. so - before i go sticking my neck out and screwing over - winchesters - it’d be kinda nice to know that i’m not throwing them under a bus and getting myself on the wrong side of a couple of guys i probably - don’t - want to piss off, y’know?”

a small shrug, a hesitant smile - a few carefully chosen phrases to set himself and his brother in a certain ‘light’ and maybe see if there was any kind of opinion forthcoming from serenity…  anything that might give him at least an inkling of intent… …one way or the other.

He knew them.  Sam knew the Winchesters, and clearly had some type of contact with them since he was worried about retribution for giving them up.  It took some serious effort to control the flutter of hope in her chest that rose with Sam’s words.  She’d been burned before by that feeling, and however much his story fit with what she knew of the Winchesters’ M.O., she simply couldn’t take him entirely at face value.  She was just too eager to find them and had paid the price for that.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that about them.  Not the types you want to cross unless you have real, serious business with them,” the witch offered up, nodding along with Sam’s hesitant offer.  It made absolute sense to be cautious, but what to tell him?  If she revealed too much the guy might try to do her in himself and probably botch the job, leaving her perfect prey for all the demonic nasties crawling across the surface of the planet.  That was the absolute last thing she wanted to happen, hence this little jaunt into the bible belt.  Too little and he wouldn’t trust her, would probably leave her hanging in the wind.

Green eyes turned inward, her expression clearly showing her mental debate.  Eventually reaching a conclusion, Serenity lifted her gaze to Sam’s face once more, swallowing thickly.  Her heart was hammering behind her ribs in something akin to panic, anxiety crawling along her nerves as she opened her mouth to speak.  She was so damn close.  She couldn’t botch this now.  She really needed some serious sleep.

“Necromancer.  There’s a necromancer coming.  After me.  They’re supposed to be really good at disposing of their kind, and I need a hand dealing with her.  I’m not good enough to do it on my own, and I know I’ve put everybody here in danger by coming here, which is why I need to warn them.  I’ve seen what she can do and it’s awful...”

Serenity’s words trailed off, eyes squeezing shut against the memory of everything she’d done in Juarez, of how good it all felt.  The cheering and praise, the hymns sung in her name, the blood and fear, the sacrifices made in her name...she didn’t want to go back.  She didn’t want to give the devil a chance to use her like that.  She didn’t want to give in to her addiction to power, and what greater power was there than to wield life and death as easy as breathing? It was too much.  Too much for one person.  Too much for her, and she ached all the way to the stained rag that was what remained of her soul, with the need to be in the thick of it all again.

[penanceofthelamb]

a little prayer never hurt nobody || serenity & mary beth

[penanceofthelamb]

There was an expectation that came with seeing a woman standing outside your door, clad head to toe in black leather, armed to the teeth, a goat on a leash behind her. It wasn’t necessarily one that could be summed up in words, not completely. Perhaps by the smell. Mary Beth couldn’t help but to wrinkle her nose slightly at the potent stench of animal. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to do its business on her porch. Was the goat house trained? All these thoughts collided to finally sum up what exactly she was looking at. It was obviously something right out of a fever dream. One of those peyote visions the kids down by the farms had whenever they got bored with small town life. Not that Mary Beth would know, she’d only heard rumors.

Maybe there was something in the water supply.

It took her a moment to register that the newcomer had spoken, let alone what exactly had been said. The door cracked open wider, revealing more of the sweet, upturned face of confused innocence. The ‘door answering’ expression, as she was beginning to call it. The prayer meeting. She was here for the prayer meeting. Right. Mary Beth’s eyes dragged over the stranger again, taking in the details of what exactly was going on. Maybe it would make more sense that way. All she achieved was awkward eye contact with the goat, and of course she was the first to look away. 

Ready to slam the door closed, muscles tensing against the effort not to do so immediately, she tried to find words. Any words at all. 

“Uh…”

The symbols were on the fence. If she had been a demon or monster, then she wouldn’t have gotten through. Unless she was some kind of big bad that everyone else kept saying she wasn’t warded against. But somehow, she had a feeling the biggest of the bad wasn’t about to appear on her doorstep trying to pass itself off as a human like this. It would have done a much better job.

The silence was stretching out ridiculously now, a flatline in what was supposed to be a welcoming conversation. Sure, the weapons she could get. It was a strange place, and she wouldn’t be a good Christian soul if she didn’t give the girl the benefit of the doubt. But a goat?

“Both of you?”

What kind of prayer meeting did she think this was going to be?!

[notawhitewitch]

 She’s so young....

The thought slid through Serenity’s frontal lobe like a breeze dragging a mixture of wonder and concern behind it like stray leaves.  Had she made the right decision coming here?  Surely, she was only bringing more danger to the kids who had managed to find some kind of solace in this place.  First Elijah and his exhaustion, then Sam with his puppy face, and now this slender little girl who took in the sight of her and promptly looked away.  

Yeah, that look she recognized.  Good little sheeple minding the Lord’s Writ and Rule, unable or unwilling to meet her gaze.  Maybe she really was just that scary.  Whatever.  While she was busy mentally rolling her eyes at the little nose wrinkle, the witch nodded.  “Yeah, both of us.  If you don’t mind..?”

She let the question trail off as Bela stepped forward and nudged the girl’s knee with her nose looking for pets or snacks, or mostly likely both.  Both was always good.  

A little smile quirked up the corner of her mouth.  Leave it to the goat to try and barge her bossy little way in.  Lifting her eyes to the girl’s face once more, she asked in a slightly more urgent voice, “can I at least come in for a minute? It’s nerve wracking standing out here all exposed.  I’ll even trade you some fresh milk for five minutes to put my back against a solid wall.”  Hopefully the deal and an overly affectionate farm animal would be enough to get her skinny ass across that threshold so she could see what this girl was working with because judging from the outside, it wasn’t much.  

Nevermind the itch crawling up between her shoulders with her back exposed to the street, fingers gripping a little more tightly on the rope leash attached to Bela. “Your sign seemed a little bit of providence in this mess.  I had to come,” she added, softening her tone a bit, trying to be a little less intimidating and more familiar.

[notawhitewitch]

No Flag, No Country || Serenity & Elijah

[elijahhasabat-deactivated201604]

Elijah’s jaw set in frustration. He couldn’t care much about a woman coming at him with knives. He’s taken down bigger. He wanted his flag back, he wanted his gas back and he wanted to not have to deal with people interrupting his nap. “How about you drop those first? And leash that fucking beast,” he grunted. God he was so tired. 

His mom would be tsking at him right now. Telling him to be gratious because helping people when they were on their own would get him a better chance at Heaven. But now, Elijah was a cynic. Where was God when he had to kill her? Where was anyone when this shitstorm happened?! But the mere thought of his mother made Elijah sigh softly and lower his bat. “Sorry,” he muttered, “Can you just not pilfer my gas? I have extra gas cans full. You can have one…” He glanced at the goat again, his eyes sad. “It ate my flag… My mom gave that to me as a joke for my birthday. To let her know I was still alive when I was gaming…” With how tired he was, Elijah’s eyes misted a little. He sniffled and blinked them away. “M'Elijah,” he said, fiddling with the bat some.

[notawhitewitch]

Green eyes swept over the young man’s face and body language -- and whoo boy, was he young -- fingers riffling along the handles of her knives and ready to go in an instant even though her stomach was an absolute knot of adrenaline, terror, and remorse before she’d even done the damn thing.  That was until the kid lowered his bat with a sigh, muttering a grousing “sorry” at her.

He looked so tired and worn out, and then he started tearing up?!  Seriously?! Goddammit.  A sigh of her own, and Serenity lowered the blades, even going so far as to make a point of resheathing the ka-bar and resnapping the holster loop.  Another sigh had the athame back up her sleeve, the other hand coming up in a cautionary gesture.  “I’m sorry, Elijah,” she said, addressing him by the name he gave.  What’s in a name...? Power.  Reassurance.  Humanity.  “I didn’t know you were here.  Let me stop the gas flow and  we’ll see what we can do about your flag, okay?”

The sniffle made her heart contract painfully, every instinct crying out to wipe away those tears and reassure the kid that things had the potential to get better...except she couldn’t lie like that.  She didn’t know if they would or even could.  Giving the young man a moment of privacy, she turned enough to kink the little hose and pull it out of the gas tank and letting it run out into her container.  

Facing Elijah once more, the witch gave another little sigh, feeling the kid and his exhaustion on a deep level.  “I’m Serenity.  If you lower your bat so I can call my goat, I think we can do something about your flag.  I don’t think she got to all of it.  If I can fix your flag, can I have the gas I’ve already got in here,” she asked, nudged her boot gently against the half full tank.  

Please?  I really need it?  I need to get a little further into these wards so maybe the howling will stop..? Please?  The words were said silently to herself but their intent leaking into her eyes and lending the skinny witch a pleading look.

[notawhitewitch]

OOC

Sorry I’ve been MIA gang.  I’ve contracted the ick but you can expect replies this week. Joy~

[notawhitewitch]

Seek and Ye Shall Find || Serenity & Sam

[areyouhummingmetallica]

☽ - he’s moved maybe - two feet - 

still close to the wall and far enough from her.

                      but he does stop, half angled away. concedes to the – request – ( or demand, whatever, ) he’s not going to spook someone because of a matter of distance - stills his feet and holds the hand with the spray can out to one side in a half shrug, half conciliatory gesture. she might seem cautious, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be.  there’s no point imbuing himself with any kind of sense of false security.  he still has no clue who ( or what ) she is.

but yeah - he does know.  s u r v i v a l being alive - living - it’s something he’s pretty addicted to ( among other things ) - and he’d like to keep on doing it for as long as possible so sam gives a nod, another slight pull to his lips in a small grin of agreement. and he can at least respect that much.

“functioning’s still a big leap ahead of most people these days.”

but the grin hides something else. a need – a flood of words that bubble and surge - apologies. i’m sorry, i broke everything. i’m sorry, i failed. i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. he’s pretty good at putting that part away.

not that it would make any sense.  or that he deserved any forgiveness for it.  it would just make him sound as crazy as everyone else out there.

she doesn’t look injured ( though sometimes, it’s hard to tell ) - no obvious wounds, no holding herself at an odd angle, no natural protection instinctive to the body to shield a wounded or aching part ( something else he’s gotten pretty good at over the years - ) and he can only guess at any other - hurt. the ones which don’t show as bloodied cuts or the slivers of scars - things that never quite heal but are never quite seen…

“okay…”

there’s more of that slow movement, sam turning a fraction more, this time to toss the spray can on top of the worn duffle set against the base of the wall - this time letting slip that grip on his gun - concealed hand dropping out of the folds of his jacket, showing open, bare hands when he faced the woman again. 

“…so – what do you need help with… and it’s ‘sam’… not ‘tall man’.”

[notawhitewitch]

The tall man stopped when she cautioned him, moving as slowly and carefully as she herself did, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders.  Serenity didn’t relish the idea of getting shot, but a bullet wound she could survive.  It was hands that could actually hurt her.  

“Yeah, no joke, Sam,” she replied, tacking on the name he offered up.  Relief heavily colored her voice as the spray can was tossed away and both the man’s long fingered paws came into view...Christ, he’s big..., making the half-smile that quirked up one side of her mouth in response to his grin even more genuine.  It was almost ridiculously easy to return that grin, the mix of puppyish eagerness and melancholy was so reminiscent of her Kieran.  He’d always smiled the same way.

Her smile faltered a bit as her heart contracted with the sudden pang of loss, the edges crumbling before she could push through and properly introduce herself.  “I’m Serenity and I’m trying to find the Winchester brothers.  I have some intel that puts them in this city, and I really need their help with something that could potentially be even more bad news for the few of us still hanging on.”

It was just like that, she decided to trust Sam to the point where she wouldn’t be side eyeing his every move in her presence.  In times like these, honoring such small requests as hers for distance, the lack of drawing weaponry, that’s how it was built.  She wouldn’t be sending him Christmas cards or anything, but Serenity could probably work with a guy like this. 

[notawhitewitch]

No Flag, No Country || Serenity & Elijah

[elijahhasabat-deactivated201604]

He was napping in his computer chair… Again. It was the one place Elijah felt the most safe. Since it had the view of the security cameras, that he rigged, within easy reach. There was something oddly comforting about the dim light and the faint buzz. 

Normally the teenager barely slept. The visions of blood and gore warping his mind into a war zone he no longer wished to be a part of. Only he couldn’t always leave the game. Sometimes he was stuck, like a very real version of Nightmare on Elm Street. He was just glad he didn’t die in real life too. Which is exactly how he was feeling now that his eyes had shot open. “Stupid fucking brain. No more war games for 4 hours.”

Yeah like that was totally going to help. He shook his head and reached for the open 3 pound bag of M&M’s to drown his sorrows in Red Dye 40 when something on his cameras caught his eye.

A hearse? How in the hell did a hearse get outside his house? Sure he’d heard Death was a real person but it couldn’t possibly be his time yet… Right? Elijah shook the thought off, quickly getting distracted by… A goat eating his flag?! “HEY!” The teen leapt from his chair and was immediately running for the door.

Elijah made it outside in just enough time to see the goat swallow his flag. “You stupid creature! Give it back!” He shouted, voice cracking a little as he lunged for the goat. When the goat ran off and Elijah tripped into the drive way, that’s when he noticed a woman… Stealing the gas from his car. Yes he stole it but he stole it fair and square. “Hey! Get away from my car!” He yelled, getting up and brandishing his token bat. “Take your Satan goat and get away. This is mine.”

[notawhitewitch]

It was proof of how tired Serenity was that her mind had started to drift once the gas had started to flow into her pilfered container, absently humming a little snippet of song as she waited.  Rocking back onto her heels with a soft creak of leather, the necromancer lifted her face to the sunshine, letting it bathe over her.  November in Kansas was positively pleasant.

Practically dozing on her feet (this is what happens when you’ve been awake for almost three days, though), Serenity literally almost wet herself as the door to the house crashed open, banging against the wall, screen and all.  There was a loud male voice bellowing,  Bela bleating in terror and running off, all of it sending the witch over the edge.

Instinct took over and had her athame dropping into her hand from her coat sleeve, the other yanking the ka-bar from its sheath and to the ready, as she spun to face this new threat with blades raised.

Except the threat hadn’t attacked her yet.  He just stood there, brandishing a very solid looking bat, and yelling about Satan and his car.  His car?  Oh! The gas!  Crap.

Relaxing her stance only slightly, she spoke in what she hoped were soothing tones.  “How about we put the weapons away and discuss this like rational people, okay?  I didn’t know anyone was here.”  Not quite an apology, but it was as good as the kid was going to get right now.  He was the first seemingly sane person she’d seen in months and she didn’t really want to squander the opportunity by offing him.

[notawhitewitch]

1959 Cadillac Superior Hearse -- Rebuilt as a thank you gift by the owner of a local custom shop in Detroit for ridding the establishment of a rather noisy and violent poltergeist.

[notawhitewitch]

Very Bad Things(past) || Lucifer & Serenity

,It was back.

The huge, bright presence that had invaded her city previously, however briefly.  She had been unable to get a handle on it.  The only thing she knew for sure was this thing was unlike anything else she’d ever encountered in her life.

That should have been enough to scare anybody with a modicum of sense.  Unfortunately for Serenity, she wasn’t terribly sensible.  Which is why the timing of the Thing’s return coinciding with Hell literally spewing all over the place had the necromancer infiltrating the old train station on Michigan Avenue.  

This was where she had tracked the presence to.  Well, more like followed the high beam spotlight almost straight to the presence.  The sheer brightness of it left her a little headblind as she crept through the musty, graffiti covered ruins.  It was like trying to see in the dark after staring directly into the beam of a flashlight and left her feeling more than a little handicapped.

The presence was everywhere, humming sharp and offkey above the dark background throb of Hell.  It had driven out everything.  There were no ghosts hanging over the desiccated corpses scattered through the enormous building.  No rats, no insects, nothing.  Nothing but the cold and dark and The Presence.

Nevermind the sheer want sweeping through her as her power curled around dusty bones, beginning to fill them with life... It was the dry rattle of moving bones that made her realize what she was doing, snapping the tie binding Serenity to the corpse so abruptly it hurt, knocking the breath from her lungs, and making her insides cramp, stopping her in her tracks with an audible gasp. 

It was just so natural to exercise her power in this place, that hellish bass thrum throbbing in her bones, and drumming up the always fresh memory of being ridden by that unearthly black thing, and raising the dead was as easy and necessary as breathing.

The witch mentally sank herself into the concrete below her boots, grounding herself as an extra bolster against the return to insanity.  Reminding herself she had no need of a minion at this time and she certainly wasn’t taking one whose bones had been soaked in Hell goo.  Behave yourself.

[sheepclothed-deactivated2016120]

Darkness Peering ; Serenity & Janie

          it’s a gut feeling, and a gut feeling she knows almost too well. a gut feeling that she allowed to rule her life for all too long. a gut feeling that she’s been trying ignore, desperately– but unfortunately, she’s just not that STRONG. if she was this stressed, two years ago, she know’s exactly where she would run. she knows exactly who would be there to comfort her. the only thing that’s always there for you; it may be killing you, but it’s never late. it never breaks your plans. there’s no one here for her to lean on… it would just be so easy to fall back into old habits. of course, it’s not so readily accessible– which helps. but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

          she’s only heard whispers about girls who’re said to be something other than human– that wear the faces of your friends, but have stars swirling inside of them. magic. she didn’t want to believe it– she didn’t want to think that anyone could, y’know, wriggle there nose and make things happen. she didn’t want to think that these fairytales, these nightmares were anything more than fiction.

         but right now she could use a miracle. some kind of “potion” or something to help her settle down. something to keep her calm, keep her mind off of old vices. 

          serenity. the name is opposite of what you would expect a witch to have. you’d expect something darker, maybe– or at least janie would. then again, she’d never met another which, so she doesn’t have any names to compare it too, really. 

          the knock is a soft, nervous kind of knock. the kind of knock that you do if you’re not quite sure if you’re going to stick around, or run for your life. there’s a long pause before she hears any movement from behind the door, which gives her even more time to regret her decision, and look for the easiest out. in her defense, she’s meeting a witch. even thinking it makes her feel silly; actually accepting that she’s doing it, it just makes her feel like an idiot. 

                                      who said she’s going to be able to help you, anyway? 

          a perfect stranger comes in, asks you for a favor, and you’re just supposed to respond with a smile, and a definitely.

          chances were, she was going to have to be a little smoother than usual. or she was going to have to beg. something she wasn’t completely comfortable with, but she wasn’t above it either. she was, after all ( & once upon a time ) an addict. she knew how to do what she had to do. 

                                          are you a good witch, or a bad witch ?

[notawhitewitch]

It was after hours, the OPEN sign flipped over, the lights turned down while she balanced the books for the day.  Three whole purchases.  Luckily though, the type of clientele the Hand of Glory catered to had lots of money to spend on very old, very expensive things.  Those were the ones who were fleeced regularly which made it easier to cater to the neighborhood folks who needed a medicinal tea or some magical necessities.

Pausing in her humming, the witch cocked her head to one side.  Was that a knock?  It came again, a light, nervous stuttering on the front door.  Sliding down from her countertop perch, Serenity made her way to the front door, leaning in to gaze through the small peephole to see who it was.  After hours clientele tended to be...unusual.

A blond girl.  A small, thin, blond girl with hollow eyes and tightly folded arms, and a terribly anxious expression.  Curiosity crawled up her spine as she unbolted the heavy oak door, pulling it open just far enough to look out.  

“Can I help you?”

[notawhitewitch]

Seek and Ye Shall Find || Serenity & Sam

[areyouhummingmetallica]

☽ - warding was one thing, 

but getting himself in a sticky situation for the sake of a symbol on a building was something else.  something that devolved into carelessness… and that wasn’t something he could afford. and right now, sam was – sharp – more clear headed than he’d been in a long, long time.   and his focus - while pinpoint and razor edged, was not something to detract from the ‘everything else’.  he hadn’t needed the - the cough… though the other had been moving quietly till then ( and he’d only noticed a short while before the more obvious presence was presented ) one hand ( the one without the spray can ) was subtly out of sight - tucked inside of his jacket - fingers curled around the smooth pearlised handle of his 9mm Taurus… the weight solid and heavy and - real.

…however - the cough was at least a good sign ( unless it was a mistake? ) - most people who were dredging through the bottom of whatever passed for a semblance of sanity didn’t usually introduce their presence so - politely.

sometimes it was worth playing that little waiting game - to try to get a gauge on any situation.  it wasn’t every day he was afforded the luxury.  all too often things happened in a split second and he was reacting on nothing short of instinct - a clamour for survival against whatever odds had been thrown, whatever cards had been dealt - playing a poor hand and all in - every time…

there’s a breath - the lines on the wall becoming more periphery ( a half painted sigil, incomplete but taking form, careful about the lines, precision in those - again, it wasn’t worth the risk to do a half assed job ) - watching the movement behind him sidelong, without a turn of his head -  only moving slightly ( the hand with the spray can towards, the one in his jacket still shielded toward the wall - because he wasn’t going to draw, shoot ( kill ) unless he absolutely had to ) and slowly - so as not to give the woman any cause to startle ( though she was the one who’d spotted him first ).

checklist -       armed, but not aiming.       human - by appearance at least - no flicker of shade to her eyes, then again, demons, angels and their ilk didn’t often go around advertising.  and if she was anything else, it would take a lot more to tell.        sane? - ( was anyone really these days? ) - remained to be seen, but there was a calm for now - no screaming or babbling ( but that could change in a second ).

almond shaped eyes that seemed more curious than fearful, but still a caution there - she knew as much about him as he did about her… ( or therein lay the assumption ).

he had to wonder if he was being as thoroughly assessed by the other…

“hey…”

a small smile - a tentative greeting.  small steps - slow ones.

“…you, uh… you okay?  need some… help?”

[notawhitewitch]

She knew the tall man was aware of her presence as she stepped out from the meager cover provided by the building, watching him just as intently as he watched her, both of them wary as two strange cats in a box.  There were now weapons immediately visible, but that didn’t mean he was armed.  More over, a man built like this wouldn’t need many.  He already was one.  

It was telegraphed in his smooth gait, the way he kept one hand down and out of sight, shoulders already half squared, the simple fact he kept whatever doubts might plague him very hidden.

The eyes, always look at the eyes...

Green eyes lifted to focus mainly on the man’s own, curiosity, wariness, the color undetectable beneath all that hair from this distance.  Distance...he was stepping toward her.  They were small, careful steps, the kind used when one didn’t want to startle a potentially dangerous animal.  Good.  They were on the same page then.  Neither quite trusted the other, but was willing to sniff the other out.

The witch’s hands slowly lifted away from her body, fingers loose, palms up to show she meant no harm.  

She stared at him for a moment, entirely nonplussed.  It had been so long since another person had smiled at her she’d almost forgotten what it looked like.  Blinking and shaking her head slightly as if to clear it, Serenity let the corners or her mouth lift slightly in response.  “Hey.”

“I’m functioning, thanks.  That’s close enough, Tall Man.  No offense, but survival, ya know?”

His first impulse was to ask if she was okay, to offer help.  It was a nice change of pace, but she still didn’t know him from Adam, and she’d already taken a big enough chance in revealing herself.  “I could maybe use some help though.” 

The witch clamped her mouth shut then before she could say anything else.  She wanted to trust the guy.  His soft voice and tentative gestures were so soothing after being strung wire taut for months on end.  She just didn’t know if she could yet.

[notawhitewitch]

OOC

Welp, I don’t know how to cut posts in this new fucking tumblr and I apparently can’t edit it to where I can just delete previous posts so I’m fucked.  Any help would be appreciated. Thanks.

[penanceofthelamb]

a little prayer never hurt nobody || serenity & mary beth

notawhitewitch

It was the little things that were the first steps in building something that resembled a life amidst broken glass and battered wood. Cleaning up the house, finding broken mismatched cups and a battered kettle for the gas stove. Thankfully, this family hadn’t been fully electric. That would have made life more than difficult when it came to cooking, and Mary Beth never relished going to the dump. No matter where she went, they all smelled the same- disgusting. Thankfully, she hadn’t had to make that trip quite yet. There was enough to get by for the first meeting.

Yes, the first meeting. It was part of her little pattern, the gentle, tiny bits and pieces that wove her into the community. Introductions were important, so so important, especially when it came to smaller groups of survivors. Mary Beth needed to meet people, to be introduced to people. It was part necessity- how could she do the Lord’s work when she was alone, with no place to look for the fallen. And it was also out of loneliness, a yearning to return to the days when gymnasiums acting as Kingdom Hall were filled with snacks and the circle of chairs for service. It was never full of people, since even in the past, the name ‘Jehovah’s Witness’ never could be said without a sly look, a giggle behind the very closed door. But wasn’t that part of faith? Proof of it? Keeping on going when all other entryways closed in your face?

Tenacity is the key. Tenacity and patience.

The flyers she’d drawn on some printer paper she’d found in the Shaw’s closet were clear: the prayer meeting was to take place at her home, giving the address in clear bold Sharpie. Thankfully, the Shaws had a storage closet overflowing with crafts. Most of it was becoming unusable, so Mary Beth had hardly any twinge of guilt in her gut as she crafted what she needed. It was for all members of the faith, no matter what their worship- she couldn’t afford to count herself out quite yet by narrowing down. Besides, she doubted she’d see another Jehovah’s Witness again. They’d all been saved. They had to be, she hadn’t met another one quite yet. There was one other in the town now, she knew. That secret thought made her smile, gave her the flutter of joy- she wasn’t alone, not completely. Providence had sent him to her door. 

The tea was weak- she didn’t want to use all the tea bags up in one go. The more she lived in the house, the more she believed that the Shaws had been saved. They’d just left everything behind, or at least, what the looters hadn’t taken. They must have deemed the tea too useless to take. Another sign of providence. The kettle let out a shrill trill as steam billowed out, just as the knock came at the door.

Her heart leapt into her throat- always did when the knock came. Thankfully, this time wasn’t without cause. She’d hung the frying pan from the coat rack next to it. Just in case. She took the kettle off the stove- she really had put too much water in it. With a grunt, she heaved it off the hot stove to the counter before heading over to follow the knock.

She paused before the door, swallowing. Ok. She could do this. 

Mary Beth eased the door open a crack, peering out, making sure her eyes were wide as possible- innocent. No harm here, no foul.

“Hello?”

[notawhitewitch]

Prayer meeting.  That’s what the flier she’d found had said.  Serenity supposed it was safe to write down an address and a quick little map in times like these.  Anyone who would think to use it were either as dedicated crazy as this person clearly was, or up to absolutely no good at all, and if that were the case in these times, did something like that really need a map?  Still, it could be useful to attend this little meeting.  Whoever was holding it had clearly been here long than herself and that knowledge alone would prove useful.    Even if she did have to talk shop with a Jehovah’s Witness to get it.  She’d done far worse things in her life.

The little white house actually wasn’t terribly far from the domicile she’d unceremoniously apprehended for herself once Bela refused to get back into the hearse.  The goat was stubborn as hell, and it wasn’t worth fighting with her at this point.  They were where they needed to be and if Bela felt safe enough in a place to be obstinate, the witch was going to take it as a good sign.  

It was also nice to not have to worry about the goat being snatched up by predators either.  The house was locked up tight and there was a doggy door just big enough for Bela to scoot through.  It was a small comfort, but even that felt like grace in these times.  So it was with a slightly lighter heart than recently that Serenity sent out a tendril of energy to check for any tricks and traps, encountering only the spotty warding  spray painted along the white picket fence.

Okay.  Time to check for more mundane traps, only to find herself baffled there were none.  Not even a trip wire or a bell on the front gate.  Maybe this person was actually interested in sharing some semblance of succor.  The witch was so stunned she couldn’t even form one cynical sentence when the front door finally eased open just a crack.

One big blue eye peered out from inside the little house, a thin slightly quavery voice asked “Hello?”  All Serenity could do, feeling over armed somehow in this moment in her leathers with a ka-bar on one hip, her athame tucked up the sleeve of her leather jacket, and the machete in its holster across her back, was hold up the now severely wrinkled flier, and stutter “I’m here for the prayer meeting?”  How much more out of sorts was she going to feel in this strange place?  Hopefully she wouldn’t get attacked by a screaming nerd with a baseball bat this time?

[insignificantbullet]

“I had to learn. All my life. The hard way. And the hard way’s pretty hard, but not as hard as the easy way.

Granny Weatherwax (via insignificantbullet)

[notawhitewitch]

[notawhitewitch]

Seek and Ye Shall Find || Serenity & Sam

Lawrence was bigger than she had expected.  Then again, it was a college town so that accounted for some of the ah...former population.  It was way too quiet in the small city for the sheer number of folks who would have been in attendance when everything went down, though.  College kids were insane naturally, so Hell leaking into their typically drug laced headspaces had to have made for an extensive number of Crazies.  Maybe it had actually scared them sensible and they had fled the campus for something less terrifying and oppressive than college.

The big upside to being a college town though? Diners.  Lots and lots of diners.  There was a fairly ample supply of food still available, and plenty of place to cook it up along with whatever could be scrounged and hunted.

The really nice thing about Lawrence?  Whoever was laying down the warding was doing a solid enough job that the soul sucking chaos that made her bones ache with need was actually distant.  She didn’t feel the need to scratch her skin off her bones and summon Ba’al DON’TTHINKITSNAME right then and there to take her again. 

Okay, bad train of thought.  Derail. Derail.

Forcibly yanking her thoughts back to her surroundings, Serenity rechecked the arrow she had loosely knocked.  With the veritable absence of humanity and all its attendant noise, more animals were venturing into the city, and she hoped to take at least a rabbit or a few squirrels to cook up with the vegetables she’d found in the frozen section at the market just down the road.

The sound of shifting rocks, of boot soles shuffling against pavement, touched her ears, yanking her out of the half reverie she’d fallen into.  Someone was coming? No...she strained her ears to listen.  It was just a few steps, then it stopped, and then...a spray paint can being shaken? 

The witch followed the sound of hissing aerosol, peeking cautiously around the corner to see a tall, lanky young man tagging the wall before him.  She watched quietly for a few moments, observing as he was intent upon his work, before determining he was probably in more danger due to his focus than he was a threat.  So she decided to make the first move.

Loosening her hold on her arrow, letting it fold along the bow stave, just in case she had grossly misinterpreted the scene, the necromancer stepped out from cover, letting her boots crunch over the ground and clearing her throat loudly as she stopped about ten feet from the man.

[notawhitewitch]

Layers - character meme

LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE - Name: Serenity Isabella Grace Marconi - Eye Color: Greenish hazel - Hair Style/Color: Dark brown, long and layered. - Height: 5′10″ - Clothing style: Normally, fairly goth with some hippy nuances.  For work, I prefer my spell stitched leathers. - Best physical feature: Ummm....I have long legs?

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE - Your fears: Everything. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t scared.  Practically speaking, demons. Possession.  Men.  Not being good enough, for anything, ever.  Being burned....I could go on. - Your guilty pleasure: Chocolate sauce straight out of the bottle.  Don’t judge me. - Your biggest pet peeve: People. - Your ambitions for the future:  Making sure I don’t fall into the wrong hands or dying without fire, at the very least, on me.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS - Your first thoughts waking up:  Why? - What you think about most: How much I suck at life. - What you think about before bed:  Whatever book I’m reading at the time, or craft I’m making. - You think your best quality is:  Yeah, I’ll get back to you as soon as I figure out just what that might be. 

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER? - Single or group dates: Neither.  No dates, thank you. - To be loved or respected: Respected.  Love hurts too much. - Beauty or brains: Brains. - Dogs or cats:  Goats and chickens. LAYER FIVE: DO YOU? - Lie:  Not really? I try not to, at least. - Believe in yourself:  I believe I’m a pain in the ass. - Believe in love:  I do, but it’s not for me. - Want someone:  No.  My wants cause Problems.

LAYER SIX: EVER? - Been on stage: Yes.  I spent most of my childhood on stage. - Done drugs: Yes.  I lost a scholarship because of them. - Changed who you were to fit in: Yes.  But then again, I’ve always changed myself to please others.  It was the best way to keep the peace.

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES - Favorite color: Purple - Favorite animal: chickens - Favorite movie: The Boondock Saints - Favorite game:  I don’t know? How Many Corpses Can I Raise Today? 

LAYER EIGHT: AGE - Birthday: September 19, 1985 - How old will you be: Hopefully, I won’t have to progress much past 25. - Age you lost your virginity:  16 - Does age matter: No, not really.

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

- Best personality:  Kind, honest, gentle, and loyal.

- Best eye color: I’m currently stuck on a pair of blue eyes, but I don’t really care. I like pretty eyes, though.

- Best hair color: I do like dark hair. 

- Best thing to do with a partner:  Dance in the kitchen to good music while making a meal together.

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE - I love: Nothing anymore. - I feel: Empty. - I hide:  Nothing.  I just don’t make a big fuss about things. - I miss: Kieran. - I wish: Nothing.  Wishing only gets you in trouble.  If you want something, you put in the work with your own two hands.  Don’t ever trust anybody else to do anything right for you.