[TRAMELL TILLMAN,MERFOLK, CIS-MALE, 80, HE/HIM]FELIX ASANYI called into 333FM. They were a little bit -CYNICAL & -DOMINEERING at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little +STRONG-WILLED & +GOAL ORIENTED. They said they’ve been working as ADVISOR, and thinking about aligning themselves with THE NAMELESS since they have been living in New Orleans for A MONTH, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge EERIE SILENCE, A DARK STORMY SEA, PRESSED SUITS vibes.
Bio:
Here, there be dragons, a phrase that Felix had heard so many speak of. They often believed that monsters lurked under the crashing waves of the ocean, yet in his eyes, the monsters were the ones that stood on two legs and sailed large wooden vessels on his territory. They were cruel and invasive, wanting to take his ocean and claim it as their own. Oh how he and the other creatures of the sea fought. Boats were crushed under their power, and the crew fell into waiting mouths and the surface of the water. They did this for centuries, until one day people grew brave and decided to fight back.
They tracked Felix down, following him to his family. He tried fighting them off, but they managed to overpower him. His family was killed, while Felix was bound and helpless. His body was left scarred and broken, as the hunters thought they left Felix for dead. Only, the merfolk was not dead, but rather enraged and broken. They had damaged him and taken his voice, but that just fueled the fire within him. Wanting to avenge his family, Felix made it his mission to gain power by whatever means necessary.
The years went by, and Felix found himself in the presence of an organized crime group where he met Reinaldo, and the two quickly bonded over the shared experiences. It broke his heart to see his friend suffering yet again, and was quick to follow him to New Orleans as well. The transition into the Nameless was easy for him, as organized crime had become his way of life at this point.
Personality:
Felix is very quiet, no pun intended, and stoic. He’s a very no nonsense type of person, and it’s above making people know how he sees or feels about them. He is dedicated to his work, and is used to reigning in his boss. He believes in the message and the way of the Nameless because that is his job. He uses ASL to communicate, but since he understands not everyone knows it, he also communicates via text to speech.
[DEV PATEL, VAMPIRE, CIS MAN, 35, HE/HIM] RAYAAN IYER called into 333FM. They were a little bit IMPOLITE & CALLOUS at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little EFFICIENT & PATIENT. They said they’ve been working as CAPTAIN, and thinking about aligning themselves with DEATHRUNNERS since they have been living in New Orleans for 60 YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge REFUSAL TO LET GO OF VIOLENCE EVEN IF IT’S CONSUMED SO MUCH OF YOU, THE ONLY REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR IS A RAW WOUND, FOREVER PINNED IN PLACE LIKE AN INSECT TO STUDY vibes.
EXTRA STATS .
Special Powers: Typical vampire thangs — notably stronger with shadow manipulation than compelling others & transforms into mist
Sexual & Romantic identities: Biromantic, bisexual, polyamorous
Job / Workplace: Deathrunner captain
Relationship status: Open marriage
Appearance: There's an impressive collection of five entire outfits in his closet. Has a prosthetic left arm. Almost always scowling.
Personality: The quiet sort. Doesn't enjoy talking just for the sake of it. Would much rather be in his own company, despite him not being able to stand even that most of the time. Despite not enjoying small talk, he’s relatively decent at it. Knows when to be polite and when to be firm. His taste for violence hasn’t necessarily lessened, so much as it’s been transformed. Kept under careful lock and key, and only allowed to be honed when a situation calls for it.
FISTFUL OF INFORMATION ( dossier at end ).
TD;LR: comes from an emotionally restrictive family > runs away and yeah, he wasn't missed > fell into street / cage fighting > didn't take an offer to lose the next round and broke his opponent's elbow by accident woopsie > got-got because that wasn't very cash money of him to do > should've died, but didn't. surprise! some vampire kept tabs on him ( i mean, have you seen dev patel angry and bloody? ) > dragged into the deathrunners by the scruff > chilled out with the rah rah hiss hiss punch first, ask second as he climbed the ranks to captain > .. uhh profit.
Operates as a captain within the Deathrunners. Primarily set to recruit other undead, but is also tasked with a secret agenda to keep an eye on the vampires within the gang / is primed to hunt others of his kind specifically. Cannot stress enough how the latter is only known / upheld with @ascnsionismx 's Mathias.
Married to @strangedevotions 's val, but it's .. y'know, hot and cold, on and off, up and down, etc.
Guilty pleasure ( to him ) — gardening. has a surprisingly green thumb and takes pride in his sweet peppers ( they're award winning, wow ).
Speaking of gardening — he likes to restore community gardens and routinely tends to them / the plants within.
CONNECTIONS .
Sire: Literally whoever, I don't have any ideas / thoughts on this other than they watched Rayaan's matches for a good amount of time before turning him at the nick of time.
Wine & dining: Select people he feeds from, though he goes into this relatively detached. Can form friendships if you squint / wait hard enough.
Fruits of his labor: He might garden, but he sure as shit doesn't eat anything harvest. Only selective of who he gives his sweet peppers to ( no, that's not a euphemism ). Everything else is free game, but don't thank him — he'll just brush it off and be grouchy about it.
Open to having Rayaan be the sire to other vampires!
While he keeps a smaller pool of friends, there’s no shortage of acquaintances and connections.
DOSSIER .
Expectations were to be set high and flawlessly achieved even before Rayaan's time, as was the Iyer way. Born with a gilded spoon in his mouth, the very same was also to be used as admonishment whenever needed. Sometimes even prematurely to nip rogue habits and thoughts in the bud – if only to ensure a concrete mold to his path in life. Always a quiet soul, the rigidness of his upbringing was seen as unwavering obedience. When in reality, that was far from the truth.
The love offered by both parents may have not been intended as conditional, but it certainly was interpreted as such. Unlike his coveted sister, the golden star of their family, Rayaan never felt immersed at home. Always a few steps back, always on the cusp of shadows, he still met the world with scintillate, starry eyes and a laugh that shook the evening sky itself. And while the beginnings of his rebellion wasn’t exactly welcomed, he made sure to wield the simmering ferocity with a tight grip – be it at home, school, or otherwise. Something that gleaned a droplet of pride from both dearest mother and father.
How ironic it would be to have the very same notion serve as the cornerstone to future tension.
The tragedy that befell his father was more devastating than anyone could have predicted. It was too soon, too abrupt, too painful for all friends and family to withstand. Without preexisting, solid connections to those still around, Rayaan was simply unable to process such a thing. So he vanished shortly after, gone at the age of sixteen.
Where his path twisted was left to the whims of rash choices and quick cash. Not once did he stop in a city for more than a few months. There was already a comfort in discomfort, of a fast lifestyle, of living on the outskirts of what the city life illuminated to the unassuming eye. Years passed and he was hardly a stranger to busted knuckles and deep bruises. Violence had been such an addictive vice to cope and stay alive. Hidden spots to trade spilt blood for cold cash, he keeps at it because it's all he knows to do.
With fame came the slacken ease of his own hubris. Unbeatable was he as reflexes and skill were honed razor sharp and lightening fast. Rayaan hadn’t thought much when approached by a hotshot prospect all those years ago. Some tall, thin, weaselly build of a man that always got his way. If not, well — he wagered that’s what the spread of hired muscle was for ( sad hairlines, ill-fitted tees, and all ).
“My guy, I like your style, but why don’t you go down in the second and make three times your worth?”
My worth? He wanted to scoff, let a rare smile whet that steely gaze. But he doesn’t. Not a single muscle moved aside what’s needed to give a timely response. “No thanks. Not worth my time.” It’s the wrong thing to say to an influential figure, but moneybags wasn’t the only one haughty with pride. Of course, there were more words to be said, he was certain of it, but it wasn’t given the chance to take air. There was a match to be done and he intended on getting his share fair and square.
Turns out, consequences can’t always be avoided entirely. Some borrowed time can certainly go a long way, but to think oneself impervious to the finality is just downright foolish and stupid.
And that’s what he’d been.
Fucking stupid.
None of the details really stuck in the end. Someone, or a few someones, got the best of him somewhere at some time, relocated him from joint to joint, kept him passive by some substantial damage. The works of some revenge plot wanted by someone with too much time on their hands, i.e. the aforementioned fat cat with deeper pockets and even deeper connections.
All he knew was that his audacity of defiance wasn’t something taken lightly. That much he could understood. To disrespect someone’s status apparently warranted punishment fourfold. Not to mention how he broke his opponent’s elbow like a twig and made their most prized cash cow useless for ‘far too long’.
Then nothing. Not a single blip stored in the banks of his bruised, sore memory.
The state he found himself upon waking was fucking awful. Whatever pain he’d known prior couldn’t even begin to compare — hopefully never will ever again. And if that wasn’t enough cream to the spoiled crop, things kept getting progressively worse. The more rooted he was in reality, the more aware he became of three specific things.
The first, and arguably most important, being how dead he was supposed to be. How he’d actually been dead until a new sort of vitality had been imbedded into him. Being awakened as something undead wasn't easy to stomach, even less so when he hadn't been aware a vampire had been keeping tabs on him for months.
Secondly, he now walked the world a limb lighter. The mangled mess that was once an arm couldn’t be saved. Remember that cash cow? Remember how cleanly that joint had snapped by his own doing?
Maybe it’s best that he lacks the details after all.
There’s hardly a stump past the junction of his left shoulder, but it still doesn’t click. Not completely. Couldn't, when a delicately disguised ultimatum was soon placed at his feet. Accept an offer to bind him to a name, a popular organization around some muggy parts of New Orleans, for having saved his mottled skin at the last minute, or be killed again.
That alone awoken the throttle to run again — run as fucking far as he possibly could. Rayaan tried to scramble upwards despite the calm warning given by his new sire. And, shit, that fucker was right. There he went like a off centered pendulum. No one tells you how unbalanced one less arm can be, but he still fought to make headway. Didn’t stop until he went ass over teakettle again.
In the end, his own self-proclaimed end that is, he relents to the offer. They had given him the chance to live again after all, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Ever. Or so he tells himself.
[ Name: Elias Faulkner Age: 65 Species: Human Deity: Goddess of Death Gender, Pronouns, Sexual & Romantic identities: Cis-man, he/him, bisexual/biromantic Residence / Years: Uptown, 30 years (NOLA 65 years) Affiliation / Years: The Lightless / 48 years Job / Workplace: Underboss (recently unretired)/ Drycleaner Relationship status: Single Positive traits: considerate, faithful, reliable, sincere Negative traits: withdrawn, serious, quiet ]
Elias, as a person, is unimpressive at first glance- reticent, disarmingly polite, and terribly sincere in his beliefs. Elias genuinely wants the best for others. He thinks that “best” includes death.
Abandoned without as much as a name, and shoved through a failing system, Elias learned young that keeping one’s mouth shut was a valuable skill. Silent, sweet, and unquestionably neglected, his first prayers to the goddess of death were for himself- cries for comfort; for mercy. By seventeen, he had sworn his loyalty to the Chthonics, under the leadership of Lior Atlas.
Nearly fifty years later, Elias has seen shifts in leadership, through cycles of pacifism and antagonism, working his way through the ranks. Devout to his goddess, he has been a good dog for the Lightless- pass auf, stellen, platz- tithe paid in mumbled prayers, long nights, and when required, vicious bloodshed. He doesn’t wear it on his sleeve, but nobody who’s seen Elias in action would call him anything less than entirely capable. He doesn’t mind the work.
Three years ago, the feeling that he wasn’t bouncing back easily anymore set Elias off balance. Every reckless choice he had made, not running toward death but never afraid, certain it would happen when it was right, and he’d survived long enough to feel old shook him. He stepped down from his position within the Lightless- an understanding that the once-Underboss would return when he was called went without saying. Recent events, along with the distinct act of still being alive, have made it clear that his time is not up, and his service is still needed.
[ updates ]
-As of 11/29: Elias’ return from retirement has not been made public news- it is known to the Lightless, as well as Suresh Lal, the leader of the Lotus Eaters. He has met the new Lightless leader, Kali Velir; she has given him orders to keep the status quo for the time being. With no eyes on him and an opportunity in front of him, Elias has disobeyed his leader’s order, tapping non-affiliated witch Grayson Ardent to assist in the killing of the Deathrunner Underboss, Ricardo Jimenez.
[ sidenotes ]
-Elias became the owner of his own dry-cleaning shop in the late 80’s, buying out the shop he had previously worked for. It is not common to see him in truly casual wear or particularly rumpled-looking.
-On Violence: While knives and guns are efficient, have become more necessary as age has stolen some of his agility, and are really his only choice against the supernatural, Elias has a strong preference for a more hands-on approach, throwing all 5’8” of himself into the effort. He has no special powers, just dedication and audacity. It's a mystery that he's still alive.
[ connections ]
-No Judgment Here: His shop is in Uptown, uncontested territory, and Elias isn’t shy about his faith- it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume a connection to the Lightless. (WC)’s assessment over the last two years they’ve known him, though, tells them Elias is harmless. He’s reliable, gets their shit clean, and doesn’t ask questions- the risk of what a devout old man might observe seems negligible. (other faction, lower ranks, 😈)
-I Love Public Libraries: There’s too much free time in retirement. For the past few years, these two have traded new read picks and spent afternoons picking each other’s brains every few weeks. ( mingi)
-You’re Family, Kid: even if the word “uncle” is derogatory now, Elias, the sentimental human he is, would still answer on the first ring if Mathias Attano called.
-No. Just No: Once close friends, over time Elias and Sebastian Atlas’ differences in opinion became too blatant to ignore. He doesn't like to talk about it.
[BILL SKARSGARD, UNDEAD, NON-BINARY, THIRTY-ONE (REALLY THREE HUNDRED THIRTY), THEY/HE]
KIERAN FOX called into 333FM. They were a little bit -AGGRESSIVE & -OFF PUTTING at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little +INTERESTING & +ADVENTUROUS . They said they’ve been working as TATTOO ARTIST AT TRADITIONAL TATTOO SHOP , and thinking about aligning themselves with NO FACTION since they have been living in New Orleans for FIVE YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge AN ATTITUDE EASILY CHANGING, EYES OF EMERALDS, RICH KID STYLE vibes .
wanted connections | full navi | pinterest | full bio -- the group
threads - visuals - musings - aesthetics - likes
— BASICS ☆
full name:; kieran alexander constantine fox
nicknames:; kie
gender:; non-binary (born male)
pronouns:; he/him
sexual preference:; pansexual
birthdate & age:; october 31st, aged a "31" 330
zodiac sign:; scorpio
spouse / lover:; none currently
— APPEARANCES ☆
face & voice claim:; bill skarsgard
height:; 6′4″
eyes:; emerald green
hair:; naturally brown, sometimes dyes blond or black
body art:; both ear lobes are pierced & covered in tattoos
other distinguishing features:; has a scar on his right below his eye on his cheekbone
— PERSONALITY ☆
traits:; aggressive, off-putting, interesting, adventurous, always has attitude, an ego -- hard working, determined, passionate, sarcastic, funny, optimistic
fears:; not being good enough
hobbies:; drawing, writing, tattooing, piercing
skills:; same as hobbies
quirks:; has a lazy eye, fidgets with his watch or rings
— FAMILY ☆
mother:; mrs. fox
father:; mr. fox
siblings:; n/a
children:; none
pets:; none
— FAVOURITES ☆
ice cream flavour:; anything cheese cake or crumble related
food:; same as ice cream flavour
time of the day / night:; evening & night
season:; winter
holiday:; day of the dead
colour:; purple
scent:; kiwi & mango
— OTHER ☆
education:; graduated high school and did two years of uni, took classes to learn about tattooing and piercing
bad habits:; drinking, smoking, weed and vapes from time to time
a cherished item:; a silver ring on his right ring finger
random fun fact:; tends to dismiss most people but secretly wants to be like
[ROBERT SHEEHAN, WITCH, NON-BINARY, 32, HE/THEY] CHESTER KOWALSKI called into 333FM. They were a little bit -ERRATIC & -SELFISH at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little +COMPASSIONATE & +ENCOURAGING. They said they’ve been working as a BARTENDER AT DANSE MACABRE, and thinking about aligning themselves with NO FACTION since they have been living in New Orleans for FIVE YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge ERRATICALLY MOVING PLANCHETTE ON A OUIJA BOARD, SCRATCHING OUT THE MARKS BRANDED INTO SKIN, DRINKING TO FORGET YET ALWAYS REMEMBERING vibes.
BASICS
Name: Chester Kowalski.
Age: 32
Species: Necromancer Witch. Not that you’d know.
Powers: Chester’s power is something they see more as a problem. He’s a walking ouija board, a door between the dead and the living – at any point, they can simply take over his body without the need for permission. They are able to see and generally interact with ghosts to. Apart from that, he possesses similar magic and abilities to other witches of his type and general species.
Deity: N/A. Chester knows there are gods out there, has felt their power and has ultimately been left disillusioned by their silence.
TW: Child neglect, drugs / drug addiction, death, cults, prison,
What do you do when the people who are supposed to protect you don’t? When others coo and kiss their sweet babes in the pram, what happens to those not given shunned and told to shut up? A broken home is something many are familiar with, and Chester Kowalski is one of them. Stained mattresses and a hungry belly are their earliest memories, of trying to reach a breadbin and tugging on mother’s limp arm for something, anything. Growing into a toddler, more came along, brother and sister who needed looking after, and the tender child tried. Tried. Isn’t it strange how some children just fly under the radar? A whole neighborhood of people, systems designed to protect yet the Kowalski trio fell through the net. His miserable early existence was ended rather abruptly at 10 - all the magic running through the Kowalski bloodline couldn’t stop a pair of addicts perishing in a meth lab explosion, nor could it stop the subsequent splitting up of the siblings. Chester simply smiled and waved goodbye, so sure that after the car ride he’d be seeing them again.
They never did.
Fostering never seemed to work out for Chester. There was always bad behaviour, expected in a child such as them but, there was something else to. Little quirks that had them labelled odd by those that took them in - talking to thin air, drawings of people in the house, a small collection of bleached bones in a shoebox under the bed. It was excused at first, some form of trauma response, then acting out, furthered down to attention seeking. Family after family couldn’t deal with it all, and thus Chester was simply bounced around a system that they would eventually age out of. Without any major prospects, dead-end jobs were looking like they’d rule Chester’s life…unless. 24-hour gas stations had their fair share of dodgy clientele, and soon they were making money the way their parents had, by selling bags of white powder and pills to the desperate and depressed. It was a good living for a few years, till a few of them got caught. Someone smashed the getaway car, and when Chester opened his eyes he was blinded by white hospital walls, unable to move for the handcuff on the gurney.
When you’re 20, a minimum prison sentence of 6 years is a long, long time. You’re practically 30 by the time you get out, that’s what Chester chewed over as they pleaded guilty to possession charges on a stand with a disinterested judge and people’s attorney bringing up all the difficulty of the past, of a turbulent childhood and how such a young life had time to turn it around. Prison was prison, 6 years shortened to 4 on account of good behaviour. It wasn’t terrible, one day a gruff voice informed Kowalski of a phone call. A woman on the other end, voice hesitant with hope that this was her sibling. Another Kowalski, 1 of 3, desperately wanted this to be the eldest of them. The warm flower of hope bloomed within Chester, and they sobbed the moment she came to visit. It had been hard, following records, tracking locations till finally some article came up with a photo of someone she’d vaguely recognized, as if she’d seen in a dream.
They stayed in-touch, and once the stint was over, Chester was released and immediately sought to live with her. Many revelations were had between them - mainly the one that the things that haunted the corner of Chester’s eyes, the not-quite-people that spoke softly of their plights weren’t in fact hallucinations. The two of them were witches, and for some reason had a particular calling to the dead and deceased. The coven she was part of opened Chester with open arms, teaching them how to harness such abilities in aid of their goal, to heal the world. Whatever oddness may have been about the group, their blinding kindness, a mask for something more nefarious was lost on someone who hadn’t ever belonged, nor fit anywhere before. It was their 27th year, blessed Samhain, when the veil between our world and the one beyond was thinnest when Chester was drugged at lunch and dragged upon a stone altar within the woods. Are all coven’s cults? No but, this one was, something Chester didn’t realize until too late. Thankfully, they were too high to really feel the blade slicing thickly into flesh, being carved into a door to allow a god through. To heal the world through destruction, then rebirth. Chester awoke in a clearing, covered in gore, unsure of what truly happened. Where was their sister? What the fuck had gone on? The symbols glowed red-hot on their skin, a permanent mark of what he now was. A door to somewhere else.
Ending up in New Orleans was simply a fluke, the witch trying to keep their head down and start fresh…however hard that may be.
OTHER
they have no idea if their sister is alive or not. they haven't tried to search for her out of fear and have accepted that she's dead. (spoiler: she isn't).
attends karaoke night every thursday and wins the bar tab. you simply can't beat his one person rendition of islands in the stream.
literally doesn't perform magic as now has the association of magic = bad.
good old fashioned loverboy (town bike).
cares a lot about clothes and presentation, thrifts a lot of stuff, lots of vintage / 70s inspired pieces.
learned portraiture while in prison, something they have a genuine talent for.
sleeping pills for the night times. no pills? rave till 7am, then keep going.
goes hog wild at mardi gras.
often seen 'talking' to themselves - it's usually the ghosts they can see, have quite a good rapport with some of them.
sometimes gets possessed but its all cash money except when it isn't. has been contacted privately by a few people regarding using this power to further agendas or help solve problems.
strong desire to be loved and be part of a community.
performs menial tasks for spirits that need help 'moving on'.
skinny from childhood malnourishment, picky eater, asthmatic.
Trigger Warming: Neglect, Abuse, Death Mention, Loss, Pregnancy Mention
Silas grew up in a home with four older siblings, three older brothers and an older sister. A household that valued tradition over everything else, a home where their father always had the final say, controlled the house with an iron fist. His word was law, and no one dared disobey him. His father was also a man that believed that only the strong survived and the weak had no place in the world and in his family. His father a carpenter and his mother a housewife. Silas was smart, always had a way of seeing the world and knew he wanted a life of what his family, his father wanted for him. His father did not hide the disdain and disappointment in his son and he showed it; his mother had cheated on his father and due to that anger he took it out on Silas despite knowing Silas was his son and he himself had also cheated as well, he also could not get over the fact that Silas was born weak and so his father often abused Silas for every tiny mistake, hiding it in form of teaching Silas how to be strong. From a young age Silas had been good with his hands, learning woodwork just like his older brothers but he never loved it. He and his brothers helped his father out with his jobs, it was hard work and long hours, but Silas did not mind.
Name: Silas Hewitt
Nicknames: Silas
Age: 192
Species: Merman
Special Powers: None
Deity: God of Dreams
Gender, Pronouns, Sexual & Romantic identities: Cis-Male, He/Him, Demiromantic and Pansexual
Residence / Years: All his life
Job / Workplace: Trauma Surgeon at NOLA East Hospital
Silas was born weak and it was said that he would not survive the night of his birth, but he proved everyone wrong, the merman and doctor was strong and determined. Silas was born on July 7th, along with his older twin brother on a rainy and storming summer night. He did not cry when he was born, he was silent with eyes closed and weak breath. His father watched giving up on him when the nurses had told him that there was a chance that he was not going to make it. Silas beat all odds and survived but still his father was still not impressed at all.
Silas was quiet and an introvert, he loved reading books, watching, observing, and learning about people. Due to this he had developed a talent for reading people’s faces and the tone of their voice most times. Silas loved books which he often got into trouble for when his father caught him reading, thinking he was wasting his time. Silas’s relationship with his mother was just as terrible as his relationship with his father. His mother was someone who never wanted children nor did she love Silas’s father. Due to tradition, she was forced to marry Silas’s father. Silas came from a community that would disown anyone that broke tradition. She had tried to poison her husband a few times but each time it failed. Silas was one of her reminders that her life was that of a prison her life was and so she neglected him, emotionally abused him, telling him that he was the cause of her suffering, pain and sadness because in a way too, her husband blamed her for giving him a weak child who should have died that.
Despite all this Silas still grew up strong. The male had developed a friendship with two important people in his life a boy name Leto who he had met when a few kids their age was picking up on Silas due to him being quiet. They had mistaken his silence for weakness, but he proved them wrong and fought them. Silas was someone who could fight when he needed to and he never backed down for anything; impressed the two of them became friends. The second most important person was Faye; they had grew up together and their family were close and had a good history and relationships. As they got older, Faye and Silas relationship also grew, and they fell in love.
Silas had been lucky, and it was as if fate was smiling on him that she was picked to be his wife. Silas had never really wanted to have kids but after falling in love and getting married and talking to his wife they had agreed to have kids. Silas and Feya both grew up in the same traditional community where abuse and neglect was normal, where he was expected to continue with his father’s business along with his brothers. They both decided that they wanted something different. He refused to follow the plans of their family and what they had set for them. Instead, Silas choose to study to become a doctor, which he did. Due to their actions, they were disowned, their families cutting off contact with them.
Silas and Feya did not mind at all because they believed in each other. The two of them created a home together, a family filled with love and tried for many years for a child, but they could not have kids. It really broke their hearts, they had decided that if it was in the cards or stars for them, then they would adopt. One night Silas came home and saw his wife standing in front of the door with news and she told him she was pregnant. This news made him smile and was happy, but he did not know that the happiness and everything he had built would be gone.
A few weeks had passed and it was a late shift, and Silas was in surgery operating when his wife got into an accident, Silas did not find out until he was done with the operation was completed. The news and seeing his wife lifeless on the table destroyed him, it broke something with him, especially when they had just painted the nursery and gotten things for the baby. Since that day nine years ago, Silas had refused and been unable to get close to anyone believing that his heart was cold and unable to love again. Scared he will love someone again.
Silas is still kind, helping those that need It and being a protector to anyone who needed one. His heart is still hurting but instead of turning the pain and everything he endured to anger, he uses that pain to help, heal and protect. Silas is aware of the hidden secrets in town, what lurks in the shadows and backgrounds, but he refuses to get involved.
Connections:
Leto Herrera (Best Friend) - Silas had known Leto since they were kids. This is the one person he trust. Silas always has his back, he considers Leto a brother and family. He would do anything to protect his friend. They also bring out a the fun side of him that Silas had thought he had lost a long time ago.
Henry Cohen (Exes) - Both knew what they have was never deep, it was fun and when it ended they were still friends. There is still a good bond and friendship between the two of them and someone who Silas has their back.
Knox Marquis (FWB) - These two have a understanding that what they have between each other is just physical and there is no emotional tie at all. Silas respects his boundaries and they respect Silas.
Fior Anker (Growing Friendship) - They met in a grief support group. Silas has respect for Fior, the male had also lost his wife and child. So Silas understands that pain, they both understand that pain that many do not. Silas looks out for the other making sure he eats. Fior having someone who looks out for since he is the one that always looks out for others.
Liesl aurora Schneider (FWB) - In a way these two understand each other and understand loss. Their connection is only physical and not deep.
enemies - People that hate or dislike Silas for whatever reason. Due to his friendship, connections, etc.
Wanted Connections:
Late Wife Family - These are his late wife family members, some of them might hate and dislike Silas because they believed that he influenced her to cut herself off from her family. Also due to grief they directed the blame to him
The past is the past (History mainly for male characters) - Silas had a past history with this person and it was complicated and this was before get got with his late wife. There was almost something there a spark but that spark went out before there was a fire.
Brotherly Bond - Silas older twin brother. They have a strong bond and they have always had Silas back.
[PEDRO PASCAL, ELEMENTAL WITCH, CIS MAN, 50, HE/HIM] REINALDO CASTILLO RIVAS called into 333FM. They were a little bit WILY & UNFORGIVING at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little CHARMING & RESPONSIBLE. They said they’ve been working as METEOROLOGIST, and thinking about aligning themselves with THE NAMELESS since they have been living in New Orleans for A MONTH, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge TIME STOPPING PAST THE THRESHOLD, NO PAST BUT AN INFINITE PRESENT, NIGHT TERRORS BLEEDING INTO REALITY BLEEDING INTO DEVOTION vibes.
ENTER THE CHRONOSCOPE .
You're up at the break of dawn and the first to turn in at night. Very much an early bird you're happy to chirp and chitter your way on the way to work. Make new friends, catch up with old ones, file every ounce of information away to organize later. The bright smile you adorn isn't fake by any means. You take everything into account, really listen to those that need to be heard. The reason for doing so is just.. a little-lot misplaced.
EXTRA STATS .
Special Powers: Aquamancy & chronokinesis
Sexual & Romantic identities: Biromantic & bisexual
Job / Workplace: The Nameless leader
Relationship status: Singlest Pringle ever
Appearance: Typically tidy with his upkeep. Sensible fashion that can also be utilized to his advantage if ever in a tight situation. Does prefer to side with comfort ( though still fashionable ) when retiring at home. Yes, this includes a row of robes and slippies.
CONNECTIONS .
tba
DOSSIER .
One parent absent in his childhood, and another present but just barely. Reinaldo was left to fend for himself early on.
It built character, most adults proclaimed as the years passed.
It made him strong and independent when he should’ve lived as a child had.
But such was life, wasn’t it?
It was greed that robbed his mother’s life. She tried to double cross someone just a hair smarter than her. Someone that had known about his existence, and decided to leave him out of their affairs. With his mother gone, the increase of freedom wet his appetite for excitement. Most of which came in the form of greed and violence.
More time slipped by and Reinaldo worked his way into a well renowned crime syndicate located in the West. Funnily enough, the people there had latched onto him in the best of ways. A found family, lifelong friends, and even a temporary dash of love. On and off as they were, their bond grew ever stronger after they even had a son. Unlike his own mother, Reinaldo adored and doted on his child as much as he could.
It was by a strike of misfortune that his wrongdoings paid him a visit. Both his girlfriend and son got caught in the crossfire of a home invasion. Reinaldo made it out alive, but at the cost of overwhelming grief. Devastated, he crumpled back into his old habits of unbridled anger and vengeance. And though he was enraged, the witch kept his wits about him. He vented his frustrations in a way that called forth the attention of something largely unknown.
Time, as they say, heals all wounds.
And by the grace of this terrifyingly beautiful thing, Reinaldo understood what he couldn't before. No matter how small or big it may be, change is inevitable. And it's that very change he quickly warped all of that anger and grief into unshakeable devotion.
His travel to New Orleans wasn’t by a stroke of luck. No, he chose to integrate himself with the voice of The Nameless sweet in his ear. That being said, Reinaldo did well to keep his head low. Had no qualms with biding his time until opportunity struck and he was finally called upon to raise among other likeminded devotees. With the last leader amongst them felled, he faces the public with a vision bright in his eyes.
