#taken fae

[wickedsrest-rp]

Fiadh Quinn She / they

"The head that wears the crown may be heavy, but my shoulders are strong."

SPECIES: Nymph (Bog) OCCUPATION: Manager at the Yorke Museum AGE: 374 Years Old (Looks to be about 42) PLAYED BY: Chayya FC: Rebecca Ferguson

BIOGRAPHY:

One day there was only a bog and the next day, there a bog nymph. That’s how it so often began for Fiadh’s kind. Which meant, of course, that she didn’t have any family. No mother, or father. Just the aos sí that she eventually wandered her way into. And the rest of the aos sí had families. Or some little clan that they came with, a unit that they were part of, that everyone knew to associate them with. So it was just Fiadh as odd nymph out, alone in her bog. Which she’ll tell you any day of the week and twice on Sunday that she didn’t mind. She liked being on her own, still does to this day, so it was all fine.

Fiadh’s aos sí was like all the others, hardly more than a loosely linked group of nymphs, nixies, and fauns who had only really banded together in the hopes that the adage of safety in numbers might be true. They lived a good send away from any of the more populated areas of Ireland’s cities, but still there were plenty of humans to find. Plenty of humans who could find them, which meant Fiadh learned from a young age to hate glamours and concealing her true abilities. Her true self. 

While others in her aos sí had similar complaints, it didn’t seem to eat away at them as much. Or, if it did, they didn’t let themselves remember it much longer than it took until the next bonfire, the next dance, the next feast or festival. Fiadh, though, didn’t feed off the human’s, like the faun and muses. She didn’t have merry little rings to dance in, like other nymphs and nixies. So she stewed in her disdain, as pitchy and caustic as her bog. 

Stories from the humans were useful, though. Stories about her own kind, about fae kings and queens, about the division into two courts. She saw what the humans were able to amount to, when they were organized. When there was discipline to a single vision, when there was a plan. She waited, though. Studied the lines of her own aos sí and visited others. Ingratiated herself into human courts and learned what she could about their monarchies, about the stories they told of fae monarchies. 

She was only a little over two hundred when she set out on her own in London to make her first attempt at building her own regime of fae. There were plenty of her kind there, of all kinds. Somewhat unexpectedly, many were content with their masquerading at human lives – particularly the faun and muses who were able to feed more freely. Besides that, they didn’t want a leader, or a society. They were happy to roam as they wanted, do as they pleased. Even if that meant, as Fiadh so often explained, they might not be reaching their true potential.

Almost midway through her life and nothing to reap off what she had sown. She couldn’t go back to Ireland empty handed, London had been a bust… She retreated to the continent, into the wetlands of Scandinavia and Siberia. As the bogs of Ireland were shrinking, there were large swaths of her environment further east. Fiadh allowed herself nearly a century to recharge there. In her quest toward building something larger than herself, she had neglected her own abilities. This was her hermit age, as she connected only with other bog nymphs, and even then only intermittently.

After her period of rest and relaxation, she felt ready to once more attempt to build her Courts. And what better place to try it than that hotbed of supernatural activity in Maine? There are already a few scattered aos sí there, and plenty of others yet unaffiliated. And best of all? There was already a bog there. Fiadh made herself right at home, on the border of Gatlin Fields and Mossthorn forest – an actual, human home there, though she’s often found in Mossthorn bog (which she considers hers). She’s been slowly ingratiating herself to the local fae, taking a much more gradual approach than last time. And this recent loss of magic does feel like quite the opportunity. That problem was solved, of course, but isn’t it likely that, had there been some organization among the fae, they would have had things solved much quicker?

PERSONALITY:

Aloof · Possessive · Stubborn · Selfish · Creative · Nurturing · Persuasive · Confident

OTHER INFO:

Fiadh more or less runs The Yorke Museum. She keeps the schedule of tours, acts as manager to tour guides, and is liaison to the proprietor on all necessary logistics (book-keeping, utilities, etc.) She’s one of the few if not the only individual that the house and Yorke’s ghost leave entirely alone.

Fiadh has been in Wicked’s Rest for approximately twenty years now. She has a house on the border of Gatlin Fields and Mossthorn Forest, but is most often in the Mossthorn bog itself, even sleeping there some nights. 

She has a little coterie of ravens that can sometimes be found loitering on the deck or lawn of her house. If you see a raven in Mossthorn forest, it might just be one of hers. (The ravens are not, however, supernatural or fae. They just like that she feeds them and leaves them shiny things.)

Through her time in London, Fiadh grew rather skilled at word-binding, using promises from various human courtiers to get closer to influential fae.

[lunarcovehq]

WELCOME TO LUNAR COVE, BEATRIZ RAMOS

GENDER/PRONOUNS: She/Her

DATE OF BIRTH: October 15th, 1995

OCCUPATION: Owner of Doce

RESIDENCY: Sunny Harbor

FACECLAIM: Camila Mendes

IF I DIE YOUNG

SPECIES: Fae

SUBCATEGORY: Banshee

REGENERATED: Yes

FAE COURT POSITION: High Fae

AGE THEY APPEAR: 30

LAY ME DOWN IN A BED OF ROSES

The birth of Beatriz Ramos was one cloaked in secrecy and fear. Her mother Marcela had to watch her own husband regenerate in front of her when they were being accused of witchcraft and were nearly killed. He caused a distraction that allowed her to flee, but let himself get caught in her stead. She had never wanted a child, knowing that the chances of giving birth to another fae were high with two parents that carried the gene. But she grew lonely in the lifetimes she survived without her husband, and when she met him again almost a century later, he couldn’t remember their past beyond a fleeting feeling that he’d met her before, perhaps in a dream. Although he started to regain bits and pieces of his memory again, it wasn’t the same as before. He felt he could never live up to the man Marcela remembered, the one she adored and had treasured memories with, so he left. When Marcela found herself pregnant with Beatriz a few months later, she grasped at the chance to have a failsafe, a companion in her long life that could never leave her, that she could protect. She left Brazil and gave birth to her daughter in the safest place known to the supernatural, Lunar Cove. When Beatriz was finally brought into this world, her mother clutched her tight, vowing not to let her fall to the same fate as her father. She would not let her baby forget who she was.

From a young age, Beatriz knew who and what she was, she knew that she would one day gain abilities that would make her a harbinger of death. Though maybe she didn’t quite know the extent of what that meant, she knew that it meant she had to stay away from iron, witches, and any other species that may mean her harm, especially vampires. In addition to the number of other worries little girls had to be wary of. Beatriz was never out of her mother’s sight for too long, and once she started sleep walking, her mother attached a bell to her door to let her catch her before she wandered off too far. In short, Beatriz was safe. So safe and wrapped up in her mother’s cocoon she was suffocating in it. She never knew the extent of her mother’s pain, of her paranoia for Bea to be safe and close and protected within an inch of her life. But even the best intentions can come with thorns wrapped around the pretty stems. Bea had a lot of questions about her father growing up and her mother would only tell her in a clipped tone that she would explain when she was older, but the older she got, the less her mother divulged. It wasn’t until Beatriz found a letter in her mother’s closet that the truth was revealed. Her mother wasn’t scared of Bea’s death, she was worried about her own loneliness.

Though Beatriz had been given many options to go out on her own and live her own life, the guilt was heavy around her neck and had a tendency to tighten when her mother called her and panicked about one thing or another. In the end, she always came back to her mother and promised she wouldn’t leave her as her mother stroked her hair, telling her how much she’d broken her heart. When Beatriz found the letter, realization crashed around her, taking with her the image of her worried mother. Beatriz wasn’t her daughter, she was Marcela’s possession. Resentment grew steadily and when an opportunity came for her to study in Los Angeles, across the country from the shackles of her mother, Beatriz took it. From the way her mother wailed, one would have thought Bea was on the brink of death as hired movers were packaging her belongings. She wasn’t heartless, and it took everything in her not to stay, to pick up her mother from the floor and promise again and again not to break her heart. But this time she had her own pieces to worry about, and promised herself not to look back.

After three years in Los Angeles, Beatriz hadn’t contacted her mother once, blocking every method of contact she could think of. She spent her days learning how to fold millions of layers into croissants and how to make the perfect custard tarts. Though she was lonely at first, she adopted a small black cat to soothe the part of her that felt empty when she came home to her nicely furnished condo. It was a lot easier than her mother’s route and found him to be a comforting companion. It felt as though she was finally on the right path, finding her own way in life undefined by her mother, until reality came crashing back down on her. A lawyer found her to read her mother’s last will and testament. As her only family, Beatriz inherited her mother’s home and all of her assets after she was caught in a raid by hunters when she left Lunar Cove in search of Beatriz. Filled with guilt and overwhelming fear, Beatriz headed to the place her mother thought was the safest, Lunar Cove.

In the five years since she returned to Lunar Cove, Beatriz found herself falling into the advisor role at the fae court. The Fae Queen, a siren named Marjorie, was ancient but carefree, and while she didn’t care for the bureaucracy that came with her position, Marjorie was fierce and powerful when she needed to be. She remembered a time when there was no safety for the supernatural and made sure that no fae under her care would ever need to feel fear again. Even Beatriz felt calm under her wing, despite her making role as advisor a lot more difficult than anticipated. Having known her since Beatriz was a child, their relationship had even started to heal the small piece inside of her that broke when she heard of her mother’s death. Though it would never be the same, and she would never have the chance for her mother to apologize and work to repair their relationship– if it were even possible– she could have some semblance of a mother figure in her life. Then Beatriz woke up screaming in the Town Green gazebo over Margorie’s lifeless body, scars in her back where her glimmering wings used to be. Once again, she was read a will and testament, given condolences and a pat on the back. This time, however, there was nowhere to run, and before she could even plan the funeral, a heavy crown was laid on her head. In mourning and despair, the banshee was named the new Fae Queen.

Beatriz was never one to believe in fate, but she believed in doing her earnest best. For the first year, she juggled her career and her duties as the Fae Queen, each seeming to weigh more each time they fell, leaving her struggling to keep them in the air. Then the Catalyst turned Lunar Cove upside down. Her friends were kidnapped, she was buried alive and left to die, and the once safe borders of Lunar Cove were breached again and again. Now, Bea woke up screaming in the middle of the night, not from sleepwalking or impending death, but from her own nightmares haunting her. Each fae she failed to protect, each loss a stain on her hands, another reminder of her own incompetence. She held the Fae Court together as best as she could, but eventually she realized her struggle to hold onto the last piece of Marjorie that she had wasn’t what was best for the Court. It was another phone call that would change the trajectory of her life, but rather than a death, the news of an unexpected life awaited.

Benício Ramos was a regenerated fae and unknowingly, the father of Beatriz Ramos. After leaving Marcela, unaware of her condition, he sought out to create his own life, rather than the one Marcela wanted him to fit back into. The memories of the man she knew were gone, and living up to the expectations of the love of her life were too heavy for him to carry. It wasn’t until Marcela passed that he found out about his daughter. In her will, a letter was meant to be sent to him making him aware of her birth, but due to the influx of hunters slaughtering the supernatural, it was almost impossible to reach him. By the time he heard news of Beatriz, she was back in Lunar Cove, a heavy crown on her head that was weighing her down by the second.

Boarding up her bakery and leaving for Brazil was devastating, but even more so, was handing over the reins to her advisor. Beatriz could no longer deny that Marjorie had chosen the wrong fae. She wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t powerful enough, and at this point, she feared keeping the crown would only hurt the Court more. Her father wanting to reconnect was a convenient excuse. An easy way to disconnect from the town where so much heartache occurred, where a new failure could be found around every corner. When he asked her to see his hometown, to meet the human descendants of those that raised him, it never occurred to her that she should say no. She hadn’t known she was looking for a way out until her father extended his hand, ready to take her home.

For the past year, Beatriz has been settling into a new life in Brazil. What was meant to be a temporary trip had quickly become her new normal. She bonded with her father, met strangers without expectations of her, reconnected with her roots, and finally felt the nightmares start to slowly peter out. When asked, Beatriz always said she would go back to Lunar Cove, but even she stopped believing it herself when she started to call her father’s house “home.” Though they lived cautiously, keeping their wings to themselves and their powers under wraps, the new vampire couple across the street weren’t as covert. They left a trail of bodies in their wake and didn’t care who saw them. It wasn’t long before hunters came into their town to clean up their mess. As soon as her father caught wind that hunters had been spotted, he urged Beatriz to find safety, that he would follow soon once he had his affairs in order. And so, Beatriz found herself back in Lunar Cove, a year and some months later, staring into the chasm of the life she thought she left behind, and the responsibilities that came with it.

[darkesthourrpg]

❝ SAY YOU'LL SEE ME AGAIN, EVEN IF IT'S JUST IN YOUR WILDEST DREAMS. ❞

GENERAL INFO

NAME: Elena Sinclair GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her DATE OF BIRTH: August 1st 1501 (Reborn on July 25th, 1800) PLACE OF BIRTH: England, United Kingdom (Reborn in England, United Kingdom) CURRENT RESIDENCE: Staten Island OCCUPATION: Owner & Tattoo Artist at Spilled Ink FACE CLAIM: Priscilla Quintana

SUPERNATURAL INFO

SPECIES: Fae SUBCATEGORY: Dryad MEMBER OF THE FAE COURT: Member AGE THEY APPEAR: Thirty

BIOGRAPHY

Trigger Warnings: Death, Murder, Adoption

When Katalina was born her parents were delighted because this meant a chance to finish off their merger with the Smith family, through her childhood her mother constantly prepared her for married life and how to be the perfect wife for when she eventually married Thomas. Even though he wasn’t the ideal suitor for her, it was her duty to marry and to produce children. Unfortunately for her family those plans went sideways though when Katalina met Elif. Everything she hadn’t felt for Thomas she felt for Elif, with little to no rights though she was forced to marry Thomas. Thankfully though she did find true happiness when she spent time with her lover, their romance was one for the books. That was until Elif’s finance found out, which cause Katalina and Elif to flee into the night, leaving everything they’d known behind. Despite having nothing they were happy for the short time, until Elif’s fiancé found them and killed Elif in front of Katalina; leaving her to see the fall out of her actions.

With the death of Elif the world felt broken and she was returned back to her husband. With her husband knowing her betrayal the relationship turned toxic. First it was words then it turned into physical abuse, during one particular night he became drunk and attempted to kill her, but she used her powers to defend herself. Strangling him with the branches and vines from around their home until his body was lifeless. Not wanting to be tried for murder Katalina used her powers once more and buried his body deep in the cold earth so nobody would ever find him.

Having nothing to her new name felt like a blessing because she was free from everything that had bind her for so long. For years she spent her time working at a brothel to make money to secure shelter and food. That was until she spotted Elif once more, in utter disbelief when she saw the women once more. While Elif had no memory of her, that spark they once had was reignited they fell in love once more. That was until Elif’s fiancé showed up and murdered her once more, continuing the cycle that had started many years earlier. It would continue until Katalina had enough. Instead of letting it happen she’d fought to try and let Elif go free but instead became a casualty of his cruelness herself.

On a warm summer night Elena was reborn to two parents who couldn’t afford to keep her, so they gave their daughter to a well to do family in the hopes that they would provide a better life for her than they could; they did. Elena grew up with three brothers who treated their younger sister like a princess and doted on her. While the nature of her birth was kept a secret from the outside world Elena always knew where she’d came from. 

One summer when setting in the meadow by her house once more met Elif like a cruel joke from the universe. While she didn’t remember the other woman the pull was strong, the dreams that followed showed how important she’d once been.

For the next few centuries she repeatedly kept running into Elif with little to no idea who she was, but she felt compelled to save her, to try and stop Thomas who killed her every time. While she’d never truly regain all of her memories she still knew that she had a purpose to try and stop this, to give Elif a chance to actually have a life. As the thirty-five year mark came each time she watched her efforts fail, soon it felt like a losing game.

Needing a break from it all Elena decided to travel and spent her time studying art in different cities. It wasn’t until she came to New York and opened her latest tattoo shop that her past came back to haunt her once more, she saw Elif who now went by Leyla. While part of wanted to intervene every time she went to approach the other woman she stopped. Wondering if she could really do anything to stop it this time around or if her efforts would be a loss once more? Little does Elena know that New York City also holds the secret to her mother and the family she always wanted.

[lethe-rpg]

She grew from the ground like a tree, a child born of no one, or so her foster mothers used to say. It sounded far more poetic than the truth, that someone abandoned the four year old Gemma in a vast forest in the dead of winter and she wandered, barefoot and starving into the arms of a teenage Lilavati Sundara. Wandered and then fought, wriggling to get away until the older girl soothed her with soft words and promises of things she had not seen in a long time. Food, warmth, a bed. It took hardly any time at all for the foundling girl to latch onto Lily as if she was her blood sister, but another mouth to feed was a hard thing, something made difficult by the war still running through the country like a forest fire in a rainstorm. So they tried to find another family to take her in, ones yearning for children of their own to raise, and every time Gemma slipped away in the night to return to Lily. After a time they stopped trying to place her elsewhere and from that moment she became one of the clan. Mostly. They educated her as well as they did Lily, they fed her, they clothed her, and they cared for her best they could, but it was Lily to whom she was most attached. Lily who could calm her stormy temper, who understood her moods better than Gemma did herself, and Lily who held her heart.

Close in age though they were, the sisters diverged as they grew older. Lily was determined to make a mark in the world around them, to fix what needed fixing, and Gemma was determined to gain a foothold in the shadows. Filching documents, listening in at window sills, melting into crowds with an unnatural ease, that was her trade as much as diplomacy was Lily’s, and after a few arrests by the local authorities it became clear (to Gemma at least) that she was a burden. A disappointment too, in some way, and perhaps that was why Lily pulled away from her. Always something she had feared, and when it seemed to be coming true, she packed her bags and left the Otherlands with nothing but a note to her sister to explain her choice. At first she wandered from settlement to settlement, across the wilderness that was North America, but in the late 18th century she fell in with a group of supernatural settlers looking for a safe haven. It was August Ulrich that asked her to take the council seat, a choice she regretted within days of accepting. Her kind were just as capricious and unstable here as they were at home, and it was inevitable that one of them would turn to violence to express their displeasure. So she was offered protection by August, which she spurned in the best way she knew how: she left Lethe behind, setting out on a new journey.

A journey that took her behind the curtains of government, in the shadows, and eventually into the FBI. She enjoyed it for a time, though it was hard to mask her own agelessness with makeup and hair dye as the years rolled past. She fell in love with a mortal, had a son, and then when her life seemed as stable as she could ever have dreamed, lost it all. A fire when she was out of town did the job, taking her family with it. She felt shattered, lost, and then in the rubble she remembered: she had family still. Lily could not have died since they parted, Gemma was certain she would have felt it, would have known via empathy, but it took work to find her sister after all this time. Years of it, only unwound by word through the supernatural grapevine that a certain Lilavati Sundara was in Lethe…

[wickedsrest-rp]

Paloma Cordova She / her

"They say I’m not fate, but I am karma."

SPECIES: Wurgen OCCUPATION: Label Designer / Fashion Consultant for Covet Couture AGE: 31 Years Old PLAYED BY: Mica FC: Priscilla Quintana

BIOGRAPHY:

Paloma Cordova was a reflection from birth. She was a quiet child with a peculiar habit of staring too long in the mirror or lingering near reflective surfaces when she came across them. As she got older, she connected the whispers of others in her head through mirrors and the hunger that came. 

Paloma had been born a wurgen.

Fate had assigned the role of karma to the worst candidate out there. She did not care to know the doubts and fears of others, she didn’t trust herself with that power. With no desire to embrace her fae self, Paloma taught herself control. 

Paloma taught herself how to sew and found joy in creating things made out of old clothes. She learned that the whispers didn’t appear when people looked in the mirror wearing something made for them, instead only felt pride and self love. Design quickly became Paloma’s safe place. 

Within years she found herself becoming a woman who didn’t hunger for self loathing in the mirror but one who taught others to find peace in their image. She started her own line of clothing — “CORDÓVA” which was full of pieces that were a testament to her life.

Around 28, Paloma moved closer to the epicenter of her work in New York City and bought a beautiful home in Greenwich, Connecticut, a town full of old money and secrets. 

Paloma became a regular name around town. With quick talk she earned the unfortunate attention of the Alacran family, a family with old money and power found deep in each crevice of the world.

At first, she believed she had them all figured out — the typical wealthy and respected family that someone would never want to cross. 

Nothing prepared her for what they really were.

The Alacrans were descendants of generations of cruel and deviant empaths who used their abilities for manipulation to obtain money and power. The Alacrans thrived off of pressuring alliances with species that were susceptible to their influences. 

Being around them stirred a hunger within her that she hadn’t felt in years: the hunger for justice by any means necessary. 

But Paloma resisted temptation.

Unfortunately for Paloma, she found a soft spot for two of the Alacrans quickly. Not the older couple, but their son and his daughter. 

Javier Alacrán was a man whose eyes were kind and whose heart was full of genuine love for his young daughter, Luna.

Javier had been widowed at a young age when his partner passed during childbirth. Since then, it had always been him and little Luna trapped in the tendrils of his parents’s “business”. Luna adored Paloma from their first interaction and pretty quickly, Javier learned to adore her too.

For the first time in years, Paloma gently let herself be seen for who she was and not the monster she had convinced herself she was.

Time passed and their three little lives intertwined deeper with each day. Eventually Javier and Luna moved out of the Alacrán home and into Paloma’s. That meant a family earned for Paloma.

Eventually came talks of forever, a life beyond Connecticut, siblings for Luna, travels to her home country of Ecuador…Javier had even bought a ring.

However, the Alacráns hated that their own son had made fools of them by mingling with someone unsusceptible to their charm and control which meant they would pay the price. 

Threats quietly arose from the dangerous interspecies alliances the Alacrans had forged and forced until one night, a threat came a little too close to Luna. Paloma snapped. Deciding fate was taking too long, she succumbed to become the very role of karma she had sworn never to assume. 

She entered the Alacrán house through mirrors, devouring their sanity nearly entirely, driving them to the very edge of madness. By the time Javier got her to step back, the damage had been done. Paloma had made them angry and reckless. The Alacrans were too far gone to care if their son or even granddaughter got hurt. 

Paloma was ready to give up. She had finally found people who had accepted her flaws and giving herself up would be her final act of love. Javier had different plans. He had already arranged everything for Paloma and an eight year old Luna to flee to a town his contacts had deemed safe — the town of Wicked’s Rest.

She tried to object, to beg that she be the sacrifice but he insisted. It was Paloma who would make it out with Luna. 

The night they fled there was no heroic descent into sunset, just things thrown into suitcases that were eventually piled into the back of an SUV and a tearful eight year old who didn’t understand why her and her Mamá had to leave her Papá behind.

After Luna cried herself to sleep in the front seat, Javier approached the driver side’s window one last time with a ring on a gold chain as a promise. The ring was not a promise that they’d find one another again but instead a promise that their love had been true and beautiful. 

One last tearful kiss and the black SUV peeled off into the night, carrying the two people Javier loved most in the world. Paloma in turn carried their memories in the ring on the chain around her neck and in the sleeping child beside her who knew her as Mamá. 

Soon, Paloma reached Wicked’s Rest with a shameful and broken heart towards a life that Javier had set up for her. But Paloma knew it wouldn’t be that easy, because life had taught her that everything unfinished followed someone to the very end.

PERSONALITY:

Independent · Stubborn · Protective · Vengeful · Creative · Impulsive · Selfless · Blunt

OTHER INFO:

Paloma is Ecuadorian American. Her parents immigrated before she was born and she was born and raised in Miami.

Paloma and her parents are still incredibly close and her parents worked multiple jobs while she applied to the Istituto Marangoni Miami where she studied Fashion Design and graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Fashion Design.

She keeps a small bag of sour candy in her purse at all times for when she is anxious.

Her purse is always big enough to hold her sketchbook that holds design ideas full of reference pictures, fabric scraps, and color swatches.

On days where either she or Luna miss Javier a little extra, one of them will suggest a trip to Sweetwood Chocolates where they will immediately go order an eight pack of milk chocolate shaped penguins (penguins were his favorite animal) and then take a short walk to Periwinkle Paints where Paloma without fail will get a new pack of Prismacolor colored pencils and three mini tubes of paint that Luna picks out.

Paloma keeps a notes app section on her phone full of things that people have said to her or around her that have resonated with her or made her laugh. It is mainly full of things Luna says but if you happen to make it into the notes app, you’ve made it into Paloma’s heart.

Her name means dove in Spanish and Luna’s name means moon.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Kasumi She / her

"You mean to tell me a shrimp fried this rice? I mean, of course. Have you met a shrimp that’s not talented?"

SPECIES: Nix OCCUPATION: Assistant (Axis Investigations) AGE: 28 Years Old PLAYED BY: Ci FC: Nana Komatsu

BIOGRAPHY:

Curiosity, if left untamed, often led to a pathway of betrayal. That’s what Kasumi’s grandmother, Ayame, would drill into her, even if only years later. Her mother and father met early on, spending the majority of their time with one another– practically inseparable. It would have worked, if Kasumi’s father hadn’t been human. They were young and in love, and secretive enough about their relationship to keep those who went better without knowing in the dark. 

Even though she couldn’t lie to her mother, Izumi found ways to bend the truth. Omitting what was actually real was better than facing it, she decided. She was embarrassed at herself, too, for falling for a human. It went well, for a while. Until she became pregnant. The plan had been set; they would run. While the aos sí would be delighted at the news of Izumi’s pregnancy, things would fall short at the reveal of who the father was, especially if the child didn’t end up a nix. Izumi knew of other aos sí’s, and how they had integrated with human society. She could have the best of both lives, if she played her cards right. 

  The only issue was, what was one to do when the cards were not dealt in their favor? Izumi was found out quickly. She grew in size, and where she thought she could hide, her mother knew. Immediately, Izumi was questioned on who the father was. Because she couldn’t lie, she fell to the demands of the truth. She spilled the information quickly, begging for her mother’s forgiveness. Forgiveness, however, was found drowned at the bottom of the lake. Izumi hadn’t even been allowed to bury him, as his existence beneath the surface, even in decay and bone, would serve as a reminder for years to come. 

The reminders continued on, even after the flesh had molted away. Kasumi grew into her skin– thankfully as a nix, but she was still looked down upon due to having a human father. It was lucky, Izumi had been told, that her daughter had not turned out like him. As she grew older, Kasumi began to ask questions about her father. Her grandmother made no effort to conceal her hatred for him, and so she often received split explanations. 

Over time, Izumi grew resentful of Kasumi. She had so much wonder; the kind of wonder that she had held in her own heart. Eventually, the kindness that she received due to having her father’s features turned sour. Kasumi was an outcast in her own community. Her own mother couldn’t stand the sight of her, nor could her grandmother, or the other nix. She began to reach towards something unattainable; the outside. 

She was a mirror of her mother, it seemed. Only difference was, she was prone to being caught. Kasumi made mistake after mistake, but never enough of them to bring problems back to the aos sí. Most of the issues she caused happened before she could even leave. Arguments were the bottom of the barrel; but most of what she got into trouble for was that of bringing back human oddities. She knew how to read, of course– write, speak, all of it, but it was all with the aos sí’s permission. The knowledge she had was not without reprimand. The books she kept beneath a smattering of leaves had gone untouched for so long, until she made the mistake of not cleaning up after herself. It would have been fine, had they been from fae authors, but they were of human minds. 

If she so wished to learn about them, then she should go to them. That was what Ayame had landed on. Izumi, unlike her prior contests in defending her daughter’s whimsical nature, had nothing to say. She made no move to save her daughter the hurt of finding the human world and its splendors were opposite of such a thing. Instead, she wordlessly allowed her daughter to be pushed out of the only life she’d ever known. 

Kasumi, of course, saw it as an opportunity. She would bridge the gap! She would ensure that her grandmother could see the truth; that her father had died wrongfully. Kasumi would make up for the years of sneaking around, of resentment. She would return to her aos sí with the information needed to develop opinions that weren’t so bitter. She would take the tools she’d been given, and she would reach past the oblivion she had been told existed. She had to, because as it was, her entire existence depended on it.

PERSONALITY:

Enthusiastic · Persuasive · Spontaneous · Friendly · Compassionate · Blunt · Disorganized · Irrational · Obsessive · Imitative

OTHER INFO:

Kasumi’s un-glamoured form takes on similarities to that of a white & orange koi fish. In addition to what could be confused for vitiligo (only present in her “real” form), she has webbed fingers and toes, and claws to match with pointed ears. Up close, one would even notice that her skin gives off a faint shine. 

Because Kasumi is a nix, she’s an exceptional swimmer. She has a fair handle on her elemental pull, but as far as promise bindings go, she has got little experience under her belt, primarily because there weren’t many opportunities for practice. 

Unlike other nix, Kasumi does not smell of fish. Instead, she smells faintly of algae and (healthy) lake water. 

Like real koi, Kasumi can slow her metabolism in the winter, which means she needs to eat less. In turn, Kasumi often needs to remain under shade of some kind so that she doesn’t overheat during the summer months. 

Kasumi has taken to living in a pond positioned behind an abandoned (and possibly haunted) house in the Deersprings neighborhood. 

Because she was sent to Wicked’s Rest with the task of studying humans, Kasumi has taken it upon herself to write notes on each person she meets, as well as identifying personality factors that she can incorporate into her own life so that she may blend in a little better.

Kasumi’s aos sí took on a nomadic edge, moving between different states and towns. Not so much for the sake of concealing their secret, but because no one fae in the community had the need to protect one single entity. They took it upon themselves to help the communities in which they visited before moving on to the next.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Monica Clarke She / her

"There’s no problem that dancing can’t solve! Well…maybe it won’t solve anything, but at least you’ll be having fun!"

SPECIES: Doppelganger OCCUPATION: Zumba Instructor / Freelancer AGE: 23 Years Old PLAYED BY: Sev FC: Antonia Gentry

BIOGRAPHY:

Once upon a time, Monica Clarke was never born. She was created from the imagination of a young doppelganger who wanted to be somebody, anybody. Alone and confused, this fae has no recollection of the day they spawned in Wicked’s Rest. They spent their time wandering around the woods in their natural form, hiding from any human who tried to cross their path. They had no concept of her abilities nor did they understand the workings of human society, and they were prepared to live the isolated life that they seemed destined to.

One fateful day, they met a young child who seemed brighter than the sun itself. Estella Hartmann was not scared of them. In fact, she kept coming back. A friendship blossomed and the young doppelganger finally worked up the courage to approach Estella up-close. They were not prepared for the rush of power that surged through them when they made physical contact, and the clueless fae took on a human form for the first time.

Existing in a human body felt good, and that was the moment that the doppelganger decided that they wanted to be a part of society. Until the day came when they could find the perfect person to be, the doppelganger started to craft a dream persona in their head. The day that they could confidently refer to themself as Monica Clarke in a body that felt right would mark the beginning of the rest of her life.

Of course, forming her own identity as a doppelganger was a near-impossible task. The best she could do was jump around in different forms, never being able to stay in one body for too long at the risk of getting caught. But the more time she spent in her various physical bodies, the more desperate she was to be someone. She started getting greedy with life, wanting not just to exist, but to exist with a purpose.

She eventually took to the human pastime of dancing and found it incredibly grounding in her unpredictable life. Even though she lacked technique due to the difficulty of adapting to different bodies, she made up for it in artistry. It became “Monica’s” dream to dance through life, and she couldn’t believe her luck when an opportunity essentially fell into her lap. While loitering around a hotel like she often did when she was scouting for new identities to take, she came across a family in town for one last trip before their daughter went off to an Ivy League college. The catch? She had to give up an offer from a prestigious French dance school because of it. “Monica” had an opening, and she was never one to turn down an opportunity.

She set off for Paris after stealing the girl’s identity, relishing in her first independent decision. “Monica” spent months training tirelessly at one of the best ballet schools in the country — she was supposedly doing what she loved every day, yet something still didn’t feel right. Perhaps it was the fact that she wasn’t the Halle Wallace that her replicated passport said she was, or maybe she didn’t like dancing under so many suffocating restrictions. Was it simply the fact that she missed the familiarity of Wicked’s Rest? Whatever it was, “Monica” did not want to give up, yet she longed to return home.

Her dormmate — a kind soul, truly — sensed her inner turmoil and offered to take her out on the town to clear her head. The night out left “Monica” feeling lighter, but the bliss came crashing down when the two girls were backed into an abandoned alleyway by a mugger. Her dormmate, always one to stand up for herself, shouted at the thief, but neither of them had been prepared for him to pull out a knife. “Monica” scrambled to help, but amidst the chaos and her insurmountable fear, the doppelganger lost control and accidentally slipped back into her natural form. The jarring transition was enough to scare off the thief, but it wasn’t enough to help her dormmate. In her natural form, “Monica” couldn’t do anything but watch the other girl — her new friend — bleed out.

As her dormmate took her dying breaths, “Monica” realized she had been presented with yet another opportunity. A body that ceased to live was always the best option for a doppelganger, and it was a body that would be unrecognizable in Wicked’s Rest, lowering her chances of getting caught. “Monica” had no time to debate the ethics of the situation as adrenaline took over, leaving the alleyway in a different body than she had gone in with. After swiping the necessary IDs to get out of the country, “Monica” hurriedly left in the middle of the night, ready to start life over again in Wicked’s Rest with a fresh body and a chance to become the person she always dreamt of being.

Once upon a time, Monica Clarke was born. The only child to two loving parents, she was devastated when they both died young in an accident out of state. She made it through life with the help of her best friend, and she developed a passion for dance that brought her to Paris. After a year, she’s now back in her family’s long-time hometown and ready to make the most of life. This is the story that she tells and to the people of Wicked’s Rest, this is nothing but truth. But to Monica, they are the lies she tells herself so that she can cope with living in a stolen body.

PERSONALITY:

Ambitious · Energetic · Outspoken · Strong-Willed · Emotional · Insecure · Quick-Tempered · Secretive

OTHER INFO:

Fashion and makeup are two of Monica’s favourite things and she’ll never shy away from experimenting with bright colours and whacky styles. Even if she can never truly claim a physical body as hers, at least she can make it her own with her personal style. 

On the three days of the week that Monica isn’t teaching Zumba at the community centre, she’s picking up any and all odd jobs around town. If you thought you saw her as a dog walker on Tuesday and then a caddy at the golf club on Wednesday, don’t question it. Jack of all trades, master of none. 

Because she jumped from body to body growing up, Monica became an adept pickpocket from taking people’s wallets. It’s not something she’s proud of, but she figured that for the times she does get caught, people are bound to believe the person holding the ID. When she’s done with a form, she tries her best to leave the person’s wallet somewhere that they can find it.

Most people think Monica is named after Monica Geller from Friends, but she actually chose the name after she heard the song Mambo No. 5 for the first time.

She is technically a missing person/suspect of murder in Paris but it’s fine! She tries not to think too much about it since she’s in a completely different body now, and it’s not like anyone will know what happened that night…right?

[wickedsrest-rp]

Baz Bhati Any pronouns

"Identity theft is such a harsh term. I prefer to think of it more as identity borrowing."

SPECIES: Doppelganger OCCUPATION: Guide at the Natural History Museum AGE: 27 Years Old PLAYED BY: Bex FC: Nabhaan Rizwan

BIOGRAPHY:

The doppelganger that would become Baz Bhati was not born as such. Like a parasite, they grew through life adopting names from the same people whose faces they borrowed, with none of their own to lay claim to. They were never sure if this was something all doppelgangers took part in; they were the only doppelganger they knew. Rather than having been raised by their biological family (who they were never sure existed, given the nature of doppelgangers), Baz was taken in by an aos sí so small that it operated more functionally as a family. 

Made up of a muse, a faun, and their biological son, this family took Baz in long before they were old enough to remember anything different. Their ‘father,’ a muse, was fascinated by the nature of doppelgangers, and thus was fascinated by Baz. The fascination was not a particularly kind one; in fact, nothing about their adoptive father could be considered kind by any stretch of the imagination. 

This coupled with his hunger saw him rise to the top of the London business scene with relative ease. Rather than feeding on artists, the way most muses tended to default to, Franklin preferred the taste of a different sort of creativity. Tech startups, hedge funds, stock exchange… Franklin enjoyed feeding on the kind of creativity borne from capitalistic ventures. And, with a doppelganger in his back pocket, he could manipulate his meals into coming to him with little effort.

It was never something Baz had wanted, but they were given little say in the matter. They were hardly the only member of their adoptive family wrangled into the scheme — their mother and younger brother were used similarly for their abilities, allowing Franklin to build up a capitalistic venture of his own so that his meals would come to him with resumes and form an all-you-can-eat buffet directly outside his office. The corporation he founded quickly became successful and was well known for paying its employees relatively well. After all, fae had little use for material things, and Franklin wasn’t interested in the money he was earning so much as the people earning it for him. Just… not in the philanthropic sort of way that the public seemed to assume.

In any case, Baz hated it. They had no desire to help maintain their father’s business. It didn’t help that they were the only member of the family that didn’t get anything from the arrangement. While their mother and brother were both able to feed off their father’s employees, Baz didn’t require any kind of meal that humans could provide. Instead, they were little more than a tool with no drive and too much free time. 

Eventually, they began finding ways to put that free time to use. Despite his nature, their father had never been a fan of the arts. He viewed them as something of a cliche, looked down on muses who took the ‘easy way’ out by pursuing them. Naturally, this meant that Baz fell in love with art in the midst of their teenage rebellion, latching first on to poetry, then music, then painting. Their love for the arts became an obsession, and eventually a path they were desperate to follow. They were expecting their father to be irritated when they announced a plan to attend art school. They weren’t anticipating just how furious he’d be.

In the end, Baz had to practically run from their father’s house without much more than the clothes on their back. Cut off from the wealth they’d grown accustomed to, they found themself truly leaning into the ‘starving artist’ cliche. Every penny they made doing odd jobs and selling their work went to paying for art school, and it wasn’t until a classmate took pity on them that they had a roof over their head at all. They got lucky there — Sebastian Bhati was a kind man, unwilling to let someone down on their luck remain that way. He lived in a tiny studio apartment, but he let Baz move in, anyway. And Baz, never one to pass up an opportunity, made themself at home very swiftly.

Friendship grew from there. Sebastian was among the first people outside their family that Baz had ever felt a real connection to, and while they didn’t share their true nature with him, they shared more or less everything else. The pair traded critiques of one another’s art, helped each other sell pieces, and gave general life advice. To Baz, it seemed that things would stay that way forever.

But of course, they were wrong about that.

Unbeknownst to Baz, their father wasn’t entirely pleased to have lost them. They hadn’t quite expected him to track them down — doing so would require more care than Baz assumed their father had for them — so it was a surprise to find him in the small studio they’d been sharing with Sebastian. What wasn’t a surprise was his rage. Sebastian coming home at just the wrong time was an inconvenience turned tragedy when it led to the young artist’s death, but Sebastian’s downfall did provide Baz with two important things. 

The first was an immediate escape from their father’s clutches. The second was a backup plan. They knew their father would get rid of Sebastian’s body to cover up the crime. Later, when they were sure Franklin would be long gone, they returned to the apartment and retrieved Sebastian’s things. Namely, his identification. It wasn’t the first time Baz had taken on their roommate’s appearance, but it was the first time they’d decided to make his face their default. 

And so, with the perfect cover identity, the doppelganger became Sebastian Bhati — or Baz. Sebastian himself had never used the nickname, but the idea of going by one of the names he had used felt strange, so Baz it was. 

Their next step, of course, was getting the hell out of dodge. London was regrettably left in the rear view, their fear of their father’s connections within the city making it impossible for them to fathom staying in it. Hearing tales of a town in Maine where strange things could exist in peace, Baz set sail for a new life… content to leave the old one behind entirely once again. 

They never were much good at learning lessons.

PERSONALITY:

Fun-loving · Free-spirited · Enthusiastic · Spontaneous · Unreliable · Vain · Flighty · Unfocused · Easily bored

OTHER INFO:

While their father had little interest in the financial gain that the company he founded offered, Baz did. They’re an incredibly material person, and the access to the family wealth is the only thing they really miss about life with their family. In Wicked’s Rest, they often try to chase the idea of wealth by living far beyond their means, which can put them in a rough spot when the rent check is due. You might see a Baz Bhati original painting listed for three or four times its worth at the end of the month. This has never worked, but they try it frequently anyway.

Sebastian Bhati, the deceased man whose identity Baz defaults to, was a siren. This is something Baz only discovered immediately before Sebastian’s death… and something they’re able to make some use of now that they use his form. They can’t access most of the siren abilities, but they’re able to use the enthrallment in a limited sense.

Prior to adopting Sebastian’s identity, Baz rarely stuck with one face — or name — for more than a short period of time. Their father dictated who they were for any given period, and until fleeing their family and moving in with Sebastian, Baz rarely kept the same face for more than a few weeks at the longest. Because of this, they’re less skilled than other doppelgangers might be when it comes to fully assuming an identity. They don’t necessarily think to research someone beforehand, and don’t consider the life that person might lead. This means they haven’t done any research on Sebastian, either, and know little about his past or interpersonal relationships.

Baz considers themself to be a jack of all trades when it comes to the arts. They’re skilled in painting, drawing, and can play several instruments, but their biggest love is poetry. They carry a small notebook with them at all times, and can often be seen jotting down poems within it.

Due to their father’s business dealings and their part in them, Baz has at least conversational fluency in several languages. Luckily for them, this includes Punjabi, which Sebastian was also fluent in… though Baz is currently unaware of Sebastian’s fluency.

In order to keep the lights on, Baz has published a couple of novels. They’re published under a fake name, and not work that Baz is particularly proud of, though they do have somewhat of a following among those interested in raunchy supernatural stories.