SHE IS MADE OF DARK CORNERS , all which turn within itself .
[ abbey lee & she/her & cisfemale ] : my oh my, is that ADELAIDE MONTSERRAT in bon temps ? what the hell are they up to hanging around NEMETON listening to CHEMTRAILS OVER THE COUNTRY CLUB by LANA DEL REY when they should be doing whatever a ART RESTORER does ? between you and i, the 155 year old WITCH is avoided for acting CALLOUS, but whenever they let their ALLURING side shine through people flock to them. i guess they're in town because THEY'VE BEEN DRAWN TO THE NEMETON. explains some of it, though i can't help but wonder if there's more to a DEAD SWANS FLOATING IN A BLUE LAKE , WHITE FEATHERS DIPPED IN BLOOD story. ─── lenny, 25, est+2, she/her.
basics
FULL NAME. Adelaide Montserrat
ALIAS. Ade, Addie
PLACE OF BIRTH. NY, New York
AGE. 31 155
GENDER. Female
ETHNICITY. White
NATIONALITY. American
OCCUPATION. Socialite, philanthropist, retired prima ballerina, founder of La Fleur Du Mal (Dance company) and art restorer
ORIENTATION. Bisexual
EDUCATION. University graduate
MARITAL STATUS. Widowed
mental
ALIGNMENT. Chaotic Neutral
DRUGS OF USE. Cocaine, LSD, methamphetamine
POSITIVE. Determined, quick-witted, charming
NEGATIVE. Elusive, manipulative, cunning
MENTAL HEALTH. Tumultuous
bio
The Montserrat name evokes reactions, and it does so because like most names that come from wealth it was established a long time ago in Barcelona, Spain, as far back as one can track. The Montserrat made their name by rubbing shoulders with world leaders and assisting conquerors in both honorable and nefarious pursuits, for providing weapons and soldiers and battle strategies, and when times changed, Kings and Queens turned into ruthless businessmen and power-hungry politicians: if there was a threat to be made, a string to be pulled, a player to be removed, you’d go to the Montserrat; the spiders, with their endless webs of connections.
Prestige wasn’t commonly shared – the women in the family were little more than forgotten faces in old portraits, seldom known for their achievements, but more so for their heirs. They were promptly pushed out of books and history and shoved somewhere between the shadows of a stove and their husband’s fists. It had been so for a long time, and tradition has a way of sneaking its way into the present. They never expected great things from Adelaide, or her mother - she was doted upon, and she was loved, as loved as one can be within such a household, the only thing they expected was her quiet compliance in the role she had been born to play: The Heiress, The Bobblehead, The Pretty Thing.
Adelaide was the product of a union that had been under negotiation for quite some time — a planned pregnancy to seal yet another business deal. Her father was a cruel man, a man of calculations and logic who had never wished for a daughter, and her mother lacked the maternal instincts that were expected of her at the time. It mattered little, Adelaide learned quickly that slobbering kisses and hugs were ill received, that she ought to always keep her hands clean and shoes pristine. That her hair should never fall down her waist or under her shoulders. That she’d pray with them in a circle, and repeat her father’s words like a mantra. That she’d learn only the spells they were willing to teach, and never question the head of the Coven. That she had a role to play in this world, and she would do so masterfully.
My God, she looks like a little angel!’ everybody would proudly exclaim when she ran up to them in frilly white dresses, blonde curls bouncing wildly under the chimes of tame girlish laughter . She’d bat her golden lashes and straighten her spine, glide her fingers obediently across black and white keys until the sound captured everyone’s attention; she’d marvel effortlessly, and always on cue, until her presence was dismissed.
If you were to ask her, Adelaide couldn’t remember playing with other children in a sandbox, or fighting over whose doll was the prettiest: she kept her distance, always a graceful mirage of whatever a picture-perfect child was meant to be; blush red cheeks and a bow tied neatly across her waist. She could only remember vague moments of emptiness during these times, something lacking, an ache of sorts – which was promptly dismissed.
Adelaide was hungry, she was tired and she was greedy. She wanted more— always more. More than her parents could give, more than the coven could offer, more than silly necromancy spell books and lectures could teach, so she went further — she started diving into forbidden magic and demonic worship, studying ways to obtain what she wanted. She was still a child when she first heard it whispering in her ear. She couldn’t tell you why it came to her then, only that it did— and it saw her, truly saw her, like nobody had ever seen before.
When Adelaide began flourishing, her demeanor shifted into something steely and cold, and her spiritual connection to the demon only strengthened through the years. It did not interfere with her role within their social circle or her classes, therefore it was of little concern to her parents. Her happiest memories were far and few in between: she remembers her first kiss, her first drink, her first kill.
By the time Adelaide was in her late 20′s, she remembers it whispering behind closed doors, that it could offer her the world, everything she ever wanted: power, immortality. There was a price, of course— there’s always a price: her coven’s souls and her own, were she to fail to complete the ritual, or die anytime in the future. She didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate: she simply smiled, and did as she had been taught: she said yes.
Adelaide went on to perform the gruesome ritual as instructed by her guide: luring the unsuspecting coven members into a ritual with false promises of riches and power, only to summon the thing that’d been so eager to crawl out of hell all this time. She bathed in their blood white they screamed and agonized. She devoured them. And when the ceremony was completed, Adelaide found that at last, that hunger inside of her, had been satiated—- it had a name now, a way to appease it.
She slaughtered every last member of her coven as promised, including her mother and father, thus becoming the sole heir of the Montserrat empire. Adelaide went on to become everything she ever wanted, and yielded her privilege like a weapon to label the attack on her coven a terrible tragedy.
Everything would’ve been fine, had it not been for the demon’s promise that still hung over her head: were she ever to meet her demise, she’d be his like he’d been hers, to control, to consume — she could never allow for that to happen, and so, unsatisfied with the terms of her agreement, she’s spent the last century searching for a breach in the contract , a way earn back her soul, or whatever was left of it anyways .
