DEVIL WOMAN

VALERIE MALKOVICH 51 // CORONER // THE SYNDICATE « god, if you exist behind the holy scriptures, then you have abandoned me. in war hundreds are killed and tortured, and they are left there to rot and feed the vultures. and yet, we glorify our warriors. we give them laurel wreaths and honors. but all i get is torment—- i cannot be humiliated this way. »

[valmalkovich]

NAME. Valerie Eleanor Malkovich BIRTHDAY. April 1st, 1971 GENDER, PRONOUNS, SEXUALITY. cis female, she/her, yes HOMETOWN. London, England AFFILIATION. The Syndicate JOB POSITION. Coroner EDUCATION. MD from King’s College London RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Single CHILDREN. None POSITIVE TRAITS. organized, independent, sophisticated, clever, efficient NEGATIVE TRAITS. neurotic, cynical, morbid, antagonistic, unstable

( ABOUT ).   ( PINTEREST ).

[valmalkovich]

samburman·:

Open to: anyone/everyone Location: The Palazzo Lyric: No body, no crime This is one of those situations where he’s comfortable, but not too comfortable. There’s plenty of familiar faces — friend, foe, and society alike. Sam is taking a careful inventory as he sips on his drink, letting himself break his personal first rule of Fight Club. “In a crowd like this, a person could get away with anything.” Including myself, he reminds himself. Not entirely necessary; Samar Burman isn’t an inherently violent, nor evil, man. He just makes interesting life choices. “Almost anything.” Beat. “What would you do?”

–

In a crowd like this, in a place like that, on a night like tonight. Valerie gives him a shrewd, sidelong glance through the stream of Virginia Tobacco vapor emptying out the corner of her mouth. “You’re looking at it, mate.” As if the number of people or the volume of the music in any given room would have an effect on her behavior. “Why, what would you do? Ram a bloody minivan through the front doors, mow down the whole fucking dance floor?” she scoffs. “Americans. Just can’t help yourselves, can you?” 

[valmalkovich]

VALERIE MALKOVICH at the 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐎.

attending with her brother, wearing all white  ( save for the black hair & accessories, of course ) .  

[valmalkovich]

avamhollis·:

.

     Since last time, she’d learned a few things about Val. She was confrontational and liked to disagree with her, she always pretended to be utterly unimpressed, and her face never betrayed her. Ava related to most of those characteristics. Not everyone liked pasta but people who didn’t were morons and Ava didn’t associate with them. That being said—

     She leaned against the counter and looked around at the wealthy kitchen that surrounded her. “Of course I did, I know how to treat my guests right.” Simply opening the over-stocked pantry would have been enough for a five-course meal if the back-up veggie wraps didn’t suffice.

     At the following questions, she clicked her tongue and nodded, pushing herself off the counter and spinning around to check on the cooking pasta. “Wife, three kids. Eight, thirteen, sixteen.” She chuckled to herself and turned on another stove for the sause. “If you must know, they’re all arriving twenty two minutes after he does.” With a quick glance back at Val, she explained, “The eldest has soccer practice, you see, and they’re such a sweet family.” Then, went back to slicing tomatoes. “And he’s going to hear them all cry out for help before I chop his head off.” Pause. “Metaphorically speaking, I think. I much prefer a slow death.”

–

At the mention of children, Valerie raises an eyebrow. “Twenty-two minutes? Bit specific.” One body turns to four in her mind as she looks across the room again, already picturing where their bodies might lay. 

“So you’re going to kill them first, or him first?” She is genuinely interested now, eyes shifting to the front door every few seconds. “I’d also like a backstory, if you don’t mind. But if it’s part of the show, I can wait.” 

Val grabs her glass of wine and regards Ava properly for what might be the first time all night. “Your hair looks nice.” The compliment is tossed out with such thoughtlessness that it’s nearly an insult, her expression bored, but Ava just might take it. 

“This is rather ambitious of you, I must say. I’m not easily entertained with murder.” she bites back a smile. Growing up in tandem with Lee, after all... “You’ve got a tough act to follow.” 

[valmalkovich]

A Very Burman Secret Santa

He has zero idea what to get this woman. Not an earthly idea what it is she might actually enjoy, not a single trick up his sleeve to make this something stellar. Thus, an ugly little stocking houses an ugly little present wrapped around a $1000 Saks giftcard — a package delivered directly to Val by mysterious means (read: he hands it to her). He doesn’t stick around for the reaction though; Val is a slightly terrifying woman.

Ho ho ho, and all the rest. Please accept this stupid gift and a little something extra, so you can get yourself something you really want. Stay scary, Sam

[filmtribv]

Jennifer Connelly asMelanie Cavill TNT’s Snowpiercer (2020): 1.04 Without Their Maker

[valmalkovich]

avamhollis·:

     where: brooklyn      with: @valmalkovich·

     Sharpened knives carefully loaded in her leather satchel would serve two purposes tonight, both equally as important. Her work was important to her, no doubt, but this had nothing to do with the Syndicate – at least, it hadn’t until she had secured herself a guest. A spectator, someone to impress.

     Ava was diligent in her research, just like she was when there was a paycheck on the other side of the hit – she knew the target’s schedule, when the house would be empty, when the neighbors would be looking the other way. Picking a lock was child’s play at this point, and she waltzed into the living room as if she owned the place. And, tonight, she did. Perhaps as a sign of how confident she was in her own skills, the door was left unlocked for Val to come in whenever she arrived. There was no rush – Ava had a whole evening planned and these things took time and patience. She was willing to put in the effort. 

     “If you wanted to make an impression,” she started as soon as Val arrived, “you’ve done it.” Truthfully, it didn’t matter what the woman wore, Ava was in awe. “Hope you like pasta.” With a patterned apron on top of her all-white ensamble, she looked more at ease than she’d looked at her own home when Val had visited all that time ago. “And wine,” she let out a short laugh, fingers wrapping around the stem of her half-empty glass to wiggle it in the air as if to prove her point. “We should have roughly forty minutes until he comes home. And I promissed you dinner, so…”

–

"Everyone likes pasta,” she scoffs, disregarding most of Ava’s previous commentary. Compliments included. As usual. Val has made herself nice and comfortable at the head of the table, one leather-clad leg crossed over the other, wide green eyes scanning the quiet home. "And what would you do if I told you I didn’t? Do you have a backup dish prepared?” 

It’s not unlike the last time they found themselves alone together. Ava wining, dining. . . etc. This is something Val is tired of. Being wined and dined. The catering, seducing, romancing. Any way she’s tried to go about it, she’s wound up with the same resulting boredom and disappointment. No one, unfortunately, is as interesting as herself.

“Didn’t you say he has a family?” Val leans forward to grasp the freshly slide the freshly poured glass of wine closer, holding the younger woman’s gaze with a placid interest. “Wife? Children?”

[valmalkovich]

CLOSED STARTER: @intxication LOCATION: lee and jack’s place

“Matty!” Val barks the name for a third time, harsher than the precedent two attempts at getting the younger man’s attention. Perhaps it’s the physical likeness to her brother that’s made her so comfortable around him in just a few months time— it’s only ever those she loves most that hear her raise her voice. 

It’s strange, the pseudo-family they’ve built, but not entirely unwelcome. Two of the four are nowhere to be found, presumably on a post-dinner spree of some nature; left alone in the large space are Val, Mathias, and a sleeping Hank. “Did you hear me over there? Get away from the window, will you? You look like a bloody creep. They’ll be back soon enough.”

[valmalkovich]

leemalkovich·:

—

“We’re the same bloody age,” he snaps. Correction, “You’re older than me.” 

All in fact, Lee doesn’t know whether it’s true or not. Ever the sharpest pebble in Valerie’s shoe, he’d make sure the narrative changed over and over again. Older when it suits, younger when it does not. From teenage-hood to now, there’s no telling who actually came to be born first.

“Oh, I knew it! You’ve killed the bloody Queen, didn’t you, love?” He nearly cackles. “Old age, my arse.”

Spilled Steve comes right back around, timely to the moment Lee chooses to sink back into a couch. The fluffy grey thing crawls up his legs, his chest, and battles its nose into his neck. “Where d’you plan to die, then?” 

I have got, Lee thinks, to come with. “D’you plan on telling me, before it ‘appens?”

–

“Where?”

Death is where Valerie makes her living, grief where she finds her purpose; in a deeper sense — in the most personal, meaningful way — both remain intangible concepts to her. 

When, how— she could toss out a dozen well-thought out likelihoods for that. But where? The question prompts her to pull a face, lips stretching into thoughtful frown. 

“. . .Well I s’pose I haven’t thought about it, really.” 

The true answer to his question, she realizes, is obvious. It lies between the lines of the unspoken agreement they’ve had since birth: where you go, I go. When you go, I won’t be long behind. 

“What the fuck are you on about, anyway? Have you spotted a new grey hair?” She subconsciously reaches a hand to her scalp and plops herself down next to Lee, curling herself up right on the boundary of his personal space just as the cat had. Steve French investigates, tentatively navigating his way from one sharp set of shoulders to the next. “I know I haven’t slept in a while, but Christ,” her nose wrinkles, vision momentarily eclipsed by a mass of grey fur, “I didn’t think I looked that old.” Valerie plucks the cat from his clumsy navigation across her clavicle to situate him more comfortably on her lap. With her field of sight clear once again, she fixes a suspicious glare on her brother. “ —Do I?”

[valmalkovich]

anaismurad​:

—

It’s not psychology taught in textbooks, but Anaïs often found that sharing first, means others find themselves comfortable enough to share later. A subtle laying of the first few pebbles, only to build a greater pathway. Just in case it’s needed. 

“Oh, how fun!” It is, from a certain perspective. “I’ll never forget the smell of formaldehyde on my first day of school. The stranger on the steel table. Half the class quit on the spot.” Medicine isn’t for everyone. But to those who embrace it, make their very own species. 

As for the photography, she smiles, and nods along. “I know, us private collectors can be seen as selfish. But if you could, wouldn’t you have everything you find stunning, right there all the time?” Besides, her place is such a revolving door of guests for greater parties, it sees nearly as much action as a state-owned museum. Trailing right behind, Anaïs follows the woman deeper into the gallery. “There aren’t many artists I can still show my appreciation to, seeing as most of them are dead.”

“Not as yourself. Those are your hands, aren’t they?” Anaïs laughs, and re-iterates, “I’m a psychiatrist.” Not a model. “But one born out of a family that has a tendency to grace the papers.” Her brothers are messy, her father and uncles notorious, cousins sprinkled into other influential dynasties. The women in the family, though few and far between, made for aesthetic imagery and ground-breaking headlines. She had been the face of new Autumn trends just a week after representing prison reform, and a month after donating a fine chunk of her collection to the MET. “Murad. I’m Anaïs.”

She offers her hand, its back turned skyward. Like one who’s either playing by different rules, or simply used to having it kissed.

–

“Mmm. Formaldehyde is almost all I can smell these days— they were a lot more lax about PPI twenty-five years ago, to say the least.” 

Valerie pauses when Anaïs extends her hand, eyes flickering down to the delicate rings with a pursed smile. Usually, that’s her move. Circumstance always dictates, though, in Val’s practice... and this one is special. Something the woman has been told more than once, if Val had to venture to guess. The surname is like the chime of a bell; recognition flickers in her eyes, though she doesn’t comment. Instead, she grasps Anaïs’s hand and gives the digits a light squeeze. “Charmed. Valerie Malkovich.” 

There’s nothing short of total intrigue behind her smile, which certainly does appear charmed. “Those are my hands,” she confirms, lifting the hand she’d just shaken with as an example. “Very observant.” 

As they walk, Valerie regards Anaïs in much the same way as a teacher in awe of a star pupil. She’s met many men like Petros Murad; many a wealthy family, and many a spoiled daughter. Anaïs is entirely different from anything Val would have expected. 

“I’ve always fancied the idea of collecting art, but really, I can’t be bothered with all that goes into it.” A beat. “Do you often go for pieces that are so... morbid?”

[valmalkovich]

leemalkovich·:

@valmalkovich

“What misery.” First reaction, upon entering Valerie’s permanent residence — a forever fortress in this hellscape. They hadn’t lived near one another in decades, and this cements the idea as something tangible once again. Pierre left, and yet she stayed. Lee wanders down the place, her cat purring into his boot as a welcome, but then leaving him be. “We’re not getting any bloody younger, are now, love? I reckon it’s just right — we came into this world together, we might as well be together when we say fuck it to the whole thing.” 

He stops, and turns to her. “I thought… we were going to be separate once again.” Through no fault of Laroche’s, but fate and their values of individuals. There is a lot Lee will always owe Pierre, but his freedom and his sister’s company are concepts unmatched. “I’m glad we are not.” 

–

Cradling the cat, who’s still violently perturbed by the smell of Hank, Valerie nearly misses her brother’s commentary. It’s not at all uncommon for her to tune him out, after all. “Christ, Lee. Listen to yourself. How bloody old are you? Fifty?” As if the thought is unfathomable. 

“I certainly don’t plan on dying in America... as much as I love the shotty reconstruction of London architecture.” Wide eyes roll to the ceiling to observe the cracks that thread through the crown molding— of course she’s bought an apartment that’s clearly seen its fair share of wear and tear. She can’t make herself at home in a place if it isn’t at least a little dilapidated.

There’s a change of tone in her brother’s voice that captures her attention. Val allows Steve French to spill out of her arms and scamper away from the tall, threatening man that’s invaded his domicile. As she straightens, her throat tightens. Her feelings manifest in somewhat of a cheeky smile, as the humor in Lee’s complete incapability of expressing proper emotion manages to take precedence over her more morose sentiments.

“Come on, love. You know the only thing keeping me there anyway was the pipe dream of daggerin’ old Lizzie myself. No use going back now, is there?”

[valmalkovich]

audrasmythe·:

.

The woman is so alike to her brother. It makes sense, of course, twins, but it’s strange to see Lee’s soul in another body. To hear such a similar accent, but crisper, an elegance in the way she shapes her words that Audra has reached for. To disguise the roughness of Northern roots with academia. She’d achieved it, she thinks, but to Malkovich, it’s natural. Unperformed. 

It’s difficult not to linger on the words, but she steps forward instead. “I can’t- disagree.” Truly, she can’t. After being on the receiving end of his knife for several months, she knows distinctively the talent behind it. She wonders, now, if she walked around for long enough, she would find a photo of herself. “He’s made it- it’s intimate, isn’t it? Despite the medical angle. That’s- well, it’s expertise.”

–

The voice is one Valerie recognizes instantly, even if she’d grown to know it in the form of bloodcurdling shrieks and cries for help. She can’t help the smile that grows on her face, blooming wide and cheshire. The woman clearly recognizes her, as well— or at least, the other half of her. 

“Audra. Dear. I don’t believe we’ve actually had the pleasure.” She reaches out in apparent greeting, taking one of Audra’s hands in both of hers. Her grip is just too tight, willowy fingers as cold and stiff as the corpses she works on. 

“Look, this one’s me! Those are my hands there,” she frees herself of one hand to point to the photograph they’d just been observing. Her eyes, filled with a twisted wickedness, remain trained on Audra. “Tell me, have you found yourself on the wall yet? Oh, it’s so much fun. You’re bound to be here somewhere. Maybe even multiples. Lee was quite fond of your film. And I must say I was, too—-  you have a very expressive face. Makes for a fabulous subject.”

[valmalkovich]

enzoed·:

Enzo had raised eyebrows when the woman spoke up. Was he supposed to say sure he’s fantastic or it looks awesome? “I don’t pay strangers compliments,” he offered her with a shrug of his shoulders. He was souring the mood but that was what Enzo did best. Ruin things. “They say it takes a certain hand to capture a moment or whatever poetic shit they say about that. I just know  had a few photographer friends that got all spiritual with it. So yeah guess it looks good.”

–

“Oh?” Slightly taken aback, Val is still impressed to hear such a definitive statement from such an innocent looking face. “Well, that I can respect.”

The follow-up rambling was somewhat more expected. Turning towards the boy, Valerie holds her initial expression of intrigue with a hint of amusement. “What, did you expect to find any other sort of friends in New York City?” she scoffs, taking a sip of her drink— though considering the pop culture beverage and vape, she’s hardly in any place to be demeaning the hipster youth of the city. “You sound like you could use a bit more spirituality. Perhaps you should join those friends of yours on their next ayahuasca retreat.”

[valmalkovich]

anaismurad·:

—

“If baroque painters were alive today, I suppose this is what they’d be doing.” If only with a little more contrast, and a little more red. Anaïs tips her head to the side slightly, catching the photograph under a different light. “I’ve always loved brains — it’s why I became a psychiatrist. Neuro was a close second, but as it turns out it’s easier to get into people’s heads with a notepad over a hammer.” 

Yes, she decides, talented indeed. “Can I see more? I want to purchase one. Or many. I’m not known for restraint.” Her accountants would know.

–

Quite the talker, this one, is Valerie’s first thought. She’s never understood it— people’s necessity to share about themselves. Still, the woman’s poise is no less than striking ;  wealth and prestige seem to ooze off of her. Money is not so important to Val as taste, and so far, this elegant assembly of bones passes the test. 

“I’d argue you can’t have one without the other. At least I can’t.” Notepad and hammer, that is. Gazing sidelong at the stranger, a smirk lights Val’s features. To clarify: “I’m a coroner myself.”

The telltale request to  ‘ see the back room ’, so to speak, only confirms that she’s important. “I’m not sure how many he’s willing to part with, but I’m sure we can manage to convince him,” she offers a wink before leading the two of them on an ambling trail along the gallery. 

While the fairer-haired of the two observes another photograph, Valerie observes her. “You look quite familiar.” There’s no uncertainty. “Are you a model? I swear I’ve just seen your face.”

[valmalkovich]

timaelmasri·:

—

Tima is less than thrilled by the image, and moreso, by the almost fond look in her eyes as the woman in front of her gazes at it. “Certainly got a good eye,” she offers in reply, sipping her own drink slowly. “Really… embraced the Halloween spirit there.” Turning her gaze away, Tima fixated on another photograph that looked less messy - a smoldering fire, bones still inside. “…I take it your brother is one of our hosts?”

—

“He does,” Val agrees with a nod, eyes still fixated on the photo ahead. Then, in confirming the follow-up question, “He is.” Almost shocked, as if the chances are one in a million. A warm smile brings a crease to the corners of her eyes they shift to the woman next to her, even though she certainly didn’t miss the hint of disdain in the question. “And who might you be?”

[valmalkovich]

OPEN STARTER LOCATION: macabre exhibition 

In one hand, Valerie clutches a silver Juul; in the other, the night’s favored negroni sbagliato— because, yes, she turned 51 this year, but god damn it, she’s still hip. 

Wide green eyes are focused dead ahead on a black and white photo, a close-up of latex-clad hands submerged deeply into what appears to be a mess of brains. The hands are her own, and she gazes upon the photograph with the same fondness as one would a childhood scrapbook. 

“My brother is quite talented, don’t you think?” She voices to the nearest observer. “This is his work. Most of it.” The blood, the guts, the stray limbs— “The photography.”

[valmalkovich]

𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 

valerie malkovich as the second half  ( as always )  to her twin’s costume ;   her goddess, lord, and savior, 𝑃𝑅𝐼𝑁𝐶𝐸𝑆𝑆 𝐷𝐼.