Come What May

Izabele Anasenko || 29 || Russian Affiliated || Supermodel of the World|| Mother to Dmitri and wife to Mikhail Vorshevsky

[victoria-pedretti]

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY SNL 50: The Homecoming Concert — February 14, 2025

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Izabele Anasenko attending the Valentine's Date Auction

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Where/When: Valentines Auction 2026 Who: @nadezhdaxyuryeva

Izabele had slipped away from the brightest part of the Conservatory, the champagne and laughter fading into something softer beneath the glass ceiling.

She didn’t turn when she heard Nadya’s familiar steps.

“You always look like you’d rather be anywhere else at events like this,” she said gently, a faint smile curving her lips. “Tell me — who worries you more tonight? The bidders, or the men being bid on?”

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — The Barbican Centre. DATE — Friday, February 13th, 2026. STARTER — Closed for @the-izabele-anasenko

It isn't by choice that he acknowledges the model, but when they quite literally bump into each other at the bar, there's really only one civil way forward.

"Sorry about that. Mrs... Vorshevsky, was it?" As if he doesn't know.

The Rutherford plasters a smile on his face anyway, scanning his brain for the last time he'd had to speak with her. Ages, really... Not since his family's camping event. Still, it's slim pickings for acceptable topics of conversation between them.

"Rather a different scene than when we last spoke as I recall it, no?"

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Izabele was lost in thought as she looked toward the auction and made her way through the crowd. She should have been paying more attention and was startled when she bumped into someone somewhat aggressively.

"I'm so so-" She was cut off by a semi-familiar voice. She'd only ever interacted with Gideon Rutherford a handful of times, but he'd always been respectful which was more than she could say for some people in London.

She nodded when he called her Mrs. Vorshevsky, even though she'd kept Anasenko, everyone saw her as Vorshevsky and unless she was working, she rarely corrected it. "Very different. Everyone dressed to the nines instead of in camping clothes. Though, I never minded camping, but," she shrugged her shoulders.

"I didn't know the bidding would go so fast. How have you been since we last saw each other?"

[cassandra-acton]

Yeah, you bet your ass Cassie recognised the woman immediately. As if the accent wasn't enough of a dead giveaway, for years she had been dissecting the Vorshevsky family and their connections not only to organised crime, but the HCA. Their faces were etched into her mind with terrifying clarity. She'd founded an entire fucking committee dedicated to forcing them out of her city.

This was Mikhail's wife. Apparently, with all the fucking audacity in the world.

"Oh, you feel unsafe?"

"Well, I'm so glad that you get the luxury of feeling a bit better about it now. It must have been so incredibly difficult for you to make your adult decision to marry into a family of degenerate monsters. My heart bleeds."

That poor little baby boy deserved so much better.

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Izabele’s expression remained composed, but something quiet and resolute settled behind her eyes. She glanced down at Dima and smoothed a hand through his hair.

“Go find some friends and play, Dima,” she said gently. “I’ll be just here.”

Only once he was gone did she look back up.

“You’re welcome to think whatever you like about my family,” Izabele said evenly. “But I would ask you not to voice it where my son might hear.”

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“They love him. They protect him. And I won’t have him taught to see them as anything else. He's too young to understand anything other than that.”

A beat—quiet, firm. “If you have something cruel to say about me or my family, say it to my face alone.”

[wonderful-rp-resources]

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours:

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted ||  egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Come What May

Izabele Anasenko || 29 || Russian Affiliated || Supermodel of the World|| Mother to Dmitri and wife...

HBIC

Delphine St.Clair || 35 || Joint Leader of the French Organization "What doesn't kill me, better...

Attitude is a lifestyle

Catalina Rojas || 33 || Manager at The Underground and Drug Dealer for the Rutherfords If you’re not...

[nora-berkeley]

@mobscene-starters Location: The Underground. (No, not the fight club part.) Date: 3/1/26.

Truth be told, she'd been too scared to go out and celebrate New Year. Just as she hadn't done the year before.

The events that'd unfolded at the Berkeley Estate—chaos and bloodshed the likes of which she had never seen until that night—still quietly haunted her after all this time. Nora wasn't built like the others. Her life was spent healing, caring, not fighting brutal and bloodthirsty generational battles. And maybe she was still ignorant to the extent of it after all this time. But maybe it was because she wanted to be.

So, she hadn't gone out for New Year. She'd waited. Until the crowds had died away, until the potential bombshell of creating a mass panic on a public holiday faded into unlikelihood. Eventually, she ventured out into Lara's Hackney club courtesy of a Rutherford invitation and twenty minutes spent sat on her bed convincing herself that everything would be fine. Maybe she'd needed some liquid courage, though—some might argue a little too much.

"Uh, I am absolutely not drunk," she assured the bartender, who seemed amused rather than condemning, to his credit. "I have never been drunk in my life, thank you very much. What an incredulous accusation."

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Izabele had lingered near the bar longer than she’d meant to, fingers resting loosely around her glass as she took in the room — the low lights, the music, the way people seemed to exhale once they were inside. She’d come alone, a rare thing, telling herself it was just one drink. A small indulgence. She couldn't remember the last time she'd stepped foot in The Underground.

Nora’s voice carried easily over the bar, earnest and indignant in a way that made Izabele glance over with a soft smile already forming.

“I see,” she said lightly, turning toward her. “Well, if you’ve never been drunk in your life, then this must be… research.”

She accepted her drink, then lifted her gaze back to Nora, expression open and kind. “I don’t think anyone here is judging,” she added gently. “They're all doing the same thing.”

There was a pause — not uncomfortable, just unhurried.

“I’m Izabele,” she offered, inclining her head. “If you’d like company while you conduct your investigation, I’d be happy to join you.”

Her smile widened just a touch. “First nights out after the noise of the holidays can feel strange, It helps to ease into it."

[cassandra-acton]

@mobscene-starters Location: Green Park. Date: 4/1/2026.

Usually, Cassie kept her children out of the public eye.

The press was notoriously ruthless, especially as far as politicians were concerned, and she didn't want photographs of them plastered all over the tabloids when she had a certifiable price on her head courtesy of her anti-Russian rhetoric.

They were getting older, though. Keeping them cooped up when they wanted to go out and explore the world seemed cruel. So, against her better judgement, the woman scooped up Brigitte (her son on a fishing expedition with Silas doing boring man things) and decided to enjoy her last day of freedom before Parliament returned after the Christmas break.

The two year old was absolutely fascinated by a pair of bright green birds in a tree, squirming in her mother's arms in search of freedom, but Cassie was preoccupied with a heated conversation happening just across the path. Plenty of cursing. And damn, if it wasn't an election year, she'd have told them to shut the fuck up right back...

"Do you think maybe we could keep the swearing down?" First, she would attempt diplomacy. "Little ears and all." Little ears, sure, and a mum with a big fucking attitude.

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Izabele had already been turning away, one hand steadying her son as Dimitri tugged insistently at her coat, determined to investigate a particularly fascinating patch of gravel near the path.

At Cassie’s voice, she paused — then smiled softly, the kind of expression that came easily to a woman used to smoothing rough edges.

“She’s right,” Izabele added gently, her accent calm rather than scolding. “Little ears pick up far more than we think.”

She glanced back briefly, instinctively, toward the man lingering a few paces behind them — unobtrusive, pretending far too convincingly to be absorbed in his phone. Satisfied, she knelt to adjust Dima’s hat, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

“Say дякую, Dima,” she murmured. He didn’t quite manage it, but offered a solemn nod in its place.

When she rose, her attention returned fully to Cassie, something quietly understanding in her eyes. “They insist we bring help now,” she said softly, almost apologetic, as though explaining an inconvenience rather than a precaution. “Even to the park.”

Her gaze flicked toward the birds overhead, then back to Cassie. “I suppose it makes places like this feel… safer. Or at least, it lets them worry a little less.”

The smile she offered was warm, maternal. “And worrying less is a luxury I’m learning to appreciate.”

[victoria-pedretti]

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY — for WWD Weekend

[milaxkorshunova]

@mobscene-starters Location: The Venue Event: Halloween, 2025

It took Lyudmila a good minute to figure out what kind of madness she’d wandered into. At first, she assumed it was just her half-awake brain playing tricks with people dressed like neon nightmares, celebrities she didn’t recognize staring at her from cheap plastic masks, and outfits so ridiculous they had to be hallucinations. For a brief, worrying second, she even wondered if she’d gone a little heavy on the Xanax and was now seeing things from the wrong side of reality.

But no, clarity dawned soon enough. Halloween.

The word itself explained the chaos around her.

Lacking both the mood and a mask, Lyudmila turned to make her exit only to collide with someone head-on.

“Oh—sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

[the-izabele-anasenko]

The soft collision made her wings shiver, a small cloud of white feathers catching the colored lights. “Ой, вибачте,” she said instinctively, her accent warm and lilting. “These wings… I keep forgetting they make me twice my size.”

She looked up—ready to smile politely—only for recognition to hit her in a rush.

“Mila?”

Her whole face lit up, a hand flying to her chest before she reached out to steady the woman she once and still considered family. “Боже мій, it is you.” Her voice softened with something close to relief. “I thought the lights were playing tricks on me.” She takes in Mila's appearance for a moment with a smirk. "Did you forget this was a Halloween party?" she asks sweetly. "Or did you walk into this madness on accident?"

Izabele leaned in a little, a comforting presence even in the chaos around them. “Stay with me for a minute, так? This place is easier when you’re not wandering alone.”

[mademoiselle-is-a-fairy]

Anya Taylor-Joy for Rouge Dior - The New Nudes

[amescastaignede]

FOR: @mobscene-starters WHERE: THE VENUE. EVENT: HALLOWEEN, 2025.

"They try to make me feel like a clown every time I come to these things now...So I thought: Give em' what they want." That self-deprecating humor was unmatched, but she paired it with that soft smile she supported in attendance of these things. Felicity wanted her there, regardless of her feelings towards it.

So, as always, she was sucking it up. "Tell me there's more to do than stand around talking and drink." Two things she'd never been the biggest fan of. She didn't have a safety net or anyone to hold her hand this time.

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Iza clicked her tongue on the back of her teeth and shook her head, using the hand with the glass in it to gesture to the rest of the party. "Honestly...not really. I mean, there's mingling but not everyone is up for that."

She tilts her head to the side, the shimmer on her skin glinting softly. "If you don't want to be here...then why are you here?" She asks gently and genuinely. "Parties in this crowd tend to go....a bit sideways."

[jordana-velasquez]

Jordana let her gaze travel over the woman’s costume, clearly impressed, it was far more elaborate than anything she would’ve attempted. “The wings suit you,” she remarked with an easy smile. “Glad to see someone else appreciates a classic.”

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Having put herself back in the spotlight recently since having her son, she'd had to learn how to take compliments again without a flush rising to her light skin. Izabele let a soft laugh escape, letting her gaze sweep over the room for a moment. “I’m glad to see someone else embracing the classics tonight,” she said, her smile warm. “It makes the party feel even more alive."

[hasan-demir]

Hasan’s cane clicked softly as he approached, his coat brushing the floor with an elegance that seemed almost rehearsed.

He inclined his head slightly, letting the dim light catch the edge of his jaw. “Careful, indeed,” he murmured, voice smooth, deliberate. “I would hate to disturb an angel… especially one so well aware of her surroundings.”

A faint smirk curved his lips, the kind that suggested he’d already noticed far more than he let on. “Though I confess,” he added, voice low enough that only she could catch it, “I rather enjoy a little turbulence.” -(@the-izabele-anasenko)

[the-izabele-anasenko]

The corner of her mouth lifted, faint but deliberate — the kind of smile that said she’d heard a thousand compliments and remembered the few worth keeping.

“Turbulence can be thrilling,” she replied softly, her accent smoothing each word into something almost melodic. “But only if one knows how to land.”

Her gaze lingered just a heartbeat longer than politeness required before sliding away, toward the glittering crowd. “And angels,” she added, almost to herself, “rarely fall without consequence.”

[jordana-velasquez]

where: the venue when: halloween event who: @mobscene-starters

Jordana was well aware her costume showed a little more than usual, Mateo had made sure to remind her of that, but she fully intended to keep the jacket on all night. Pretty Woman had always been a favorite of hers growing up, so she didn’t mind the attention.

When her boyfriend spotted Emilio and excused himself, she took the moment to scan the crowd, eyes drifting over the faces and laughter around her. Then, as she turned, someone was suddenly in front of her.

“Nice costume,” she said with a faint smile.

[the-izabele-anasenko]

"Oh, thank you." Iza said, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, her skin sparkling in the low lighting. "And you. Pretty woman...I like it. Iconic."

[maria-azenha]

where: the venue when: halloween event who: @mobscene-starters

Maria could already feel the anxiety creeping in, the thought of being surrounded by Rutherfords and Russians enough to twist her stomach into knots. At least the French were there, Guillaume was there. He had a way of grounding her when the nerves got too loud, though she refused to cling to him all night. He had his own people to charm, and she wasn’t about to be the burden on his arm.

A few, okay, several, shots later, the courage in her began to resurface. Confidence hummed back into her veins. She turned, only to collide with a solid chest, stumbling a step back.

“Sorry,” she blurted, a wry twist tugging at her lips.

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Izabele had reservations, as usual to be in a room full of people she didn't really know. She'd only been back in London for a short time but she was settling back in nicely. She'd been spending so much of her time doing photoshoots for this and for that. Lucky for her, one of the designers she'd worked for let her keep the dress she was wearing and Izabele decided to pair it with a pair of angel wings.

She was standing, looking for people she knew when someone bumped into her. "Oh, no, that's alright. My wings are massive. They're harder to navigate with than I thought they would be. You look lovely!"

[the-izabele-anasenko]

There was a kind of irony in it — dressing as an angel in a room full of devils.

Izabele smiled when people turned to look at her. She always did. That part came easily. But the glimmer in her eyes said something else — that she was watching. Listening. Taking stock of who came, who smiled too wide, who lingered too long in the wrong corners of the room.

Someone brushed past her shoulder, and she turned just enough for the feathers at her back to fan like the slow beat of wings.

“Careful,” she said softly, her accent curling around the word like silk. “You’ll ruffle my feathers.”

[the-izabele-anasenko]

Izabele Anasekno as an Angel.