Lenore is five shots in. “I’m not drunk,” she’ll say if someone were to ask, “I’m having fun.” And it’s true. It takes much more to get her properly drunk—as of right now, she’s tipsy enough to be comfortably dizzy, tipsy enough to be smiling. Her eyes are brighter. It’s from the alcohol. All the same, this is a welcome distraction.
She has one arm wrapped around Malachi’s waist, and one hand laced through Vicente’s. “I’d like another drink,” She says, looking from her left to her right, pausing to touch Malachi’s shoulder with the side of her head.
“We should each have another drink, no?” Looking to Vicente, she lifts her foot slyly and taps him on the ass, “You’re two shots behind, Vicente. Tienes que beber.”
Eyebrows lifting at Vicente, Lenore levels him with a look that says, drink. Half-fun, half-challenge. “Or are you a lightweight, hm?”
Her grin is charming in the way it’s almost wolfish, the dark of her eyes gleaming. She leans back on Malachi and tilts her head up to look at him, asks, “Can you order me a drink, please?”
DATE & TIME: February 20th, 11:30PM
LOCATION: The Bar (after the meeting)
TAG: @josiephines
They’ve been divided for so long. It seemed like every time they came close to showing some semblance of unity, something would happen that would leave them shattered again—but not tonight. Tonight, Volkov actually seems sincere. The vote leans towards yes.
Lenore is with the majority vote.
Maybe, that surprises some people.
She finds herself drawn to the other side of the room once the group starts to clear out of the bar, stopping to gently wrap her hand around Josephine’s wrist before she can go, “Hey,” Said softly, eyebrows lifted, questioning. “I haven’t seen you all day.” (Josie’s hand hadn’t gone up in favor of trusting Volkov. This isn’t lost on her.)
DATE & TIME: February 20th, 10:30AM
LOCATION: The Louvre, Backstage Dressing Room
TAG: @xuebird
She’s always loved Paris.
But God, she wishes she were anywhere but here.
A year ago, her father would have been helping prepare them for tonight’s performance. He’d have spent weeks drilling them for this one night.
(And he told her, “I can’t take you to see the city.”)
Lenore doesn’t realize how long she’s been sitting in front of her mirror in the dressing rooms for, staring off at nothing, eyes wide and glossed over. Doesn’t realize it until she catches a familiar face standing a few feet behind her.
“Oh,” Lenore catches Xue’s reflection in the mirror, tries her best to smile at her. It’s pained. She turns in her chair to look at her, leans so that her chin is resting on the back of her chair, “Hi. How long’ve you been standing there?” She tilts her head a fraction and smiles again, this time more genuine, even if it’s small, “You look beautiful. What’re you—what’re you up to?”
hey everyone!! because i’m going to be pretty busy in the next couple of weeks, i decided to (hopefully) make things simpler and write up wanted plots for lenore for this event.
if you see one you’re interested in, hit me up and we can talk about it!! most of these plots can apply to multiple people at once, so don’t be afraid to ask me about a plot if someone is already listed.
with the menagerie back in paris, lenore finds herself trapped in a loop of reliving past traumas. metzger is very clearly using any opportunity to remind her of what she did a year ago, of who it cost her. there’s a hopeful yet melancholic air about her—but also deep-seeded anger waiting just underneath the surface. she will not be made into an example. not this time.
wanted plots are below the cut.
you hear someone singing in the middle of the night, faint, in a language you can’t understand. you find her sitting on the roof of the train. “my father taught me this song,” she tells you, “it’s meant to guide spirits home.” what ghosts have you been carrying? will you tell her their names, or try to keep them secret from her curious eyes? ( atarangi , name )
you catch a glimpse of her in one of the dressing rooms before the performances begin. hollow-eyed, a barely-there-thing. she’s troubled, there’s no denying. she must be thinking of her father—this city is littered with his bones, after all. will you stop and comfort her, or are you the kind that wants to clip this bird’s wings? ( soren , xue )
for the first time since the first riots, there’s a gleam in lenore’s eye again. maybe even in yours, too. the two of you are shuffled into an interview together, are actually treated like humans. that’s new. ( name , name )
the cages come into view, and fuck, she should have known. the gleam in her eye is gone—and is replaced by something else. anger. in the chaos, you watch her clench her fist, waltz right over to the selkie’s tank, and drive a punch into the glass. it doesn’t shatter, but it cracks; spiderwebs fracturing from the point of contact. you approach her and watch while saltwater trickles out from the tank. there is wrath in her heart and you are willing to oblige it. ( omari , name )
lenore has spent too long waiting—too long sitting on the sidelines. she used to see the beauty in the menagerie, but now she sees the truth. she’s one of the people who votes yes to trust volkov, knowing now that it’s better to act than wait. are you a rebel who approaches her after the meeting, wanting to congratulate her on her decision? or will you try and chastise her? the second option will surely end in an argument. ( kanta , josephine )
she will not be daunted by this graveyard-city. there are adventures to be had, she says, and offers you her hand. there’s a glint in her eye—one you haven’t seen in a long time. perhaps you are a rebel, perhaps you recognize this pounding of hearts in chests and join her. or perhaps you are loyal to metzger, perhaps you try and bring her back before there are consequences. ( nian , malachi , vicente )
