[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { ASTORIA THORNE } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE} is? they kind of look like { SOPHIE THATCHER } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { 26 } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { 3 YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { ASTARION } from { BALDUR’S GATE 3 }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { SATIN ROSE LOUNGE } as a { MANAGER }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { MANNEQUIN } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { SECRETIVE } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { CHARMING } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 2 BEDROOMS } apartment beside me over in { PACIFIC DRIVE }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!
astoria timurova thorne ✦ she/her ✦ 26 ✦ bisexual
faceclaim: sophie thatcher
birthplace: manchester, england
date of birth: august 13 1998
occupation: manager @ satin rose lounge
location: pacific drive, 2-room apartment
duration in palmview: 3 years
based on: astarion (baldur’s gate 3)
also inspired by: rosaria (genshin impact), arlecchino (genshin impact)
label: the mannequin
zodiac: leo sun, scorpio moon, capricorn rising
mbti: infj
temperament: melancholic-choleric
moral alignment: neutral good, uhhhh - may lean a bit towards chaotic good at times
Appearance:
✦tousled platinum-blonde hair — usually loose or tucked behind one ear, always perfectly imperfect. ( don't let the gifs deceive you if she has black hair in one and blonde in another!! lmao )
✦her features are angular and expressive — mischievous one moment, tired the next.
Usual Style:
✦ silk shirts half-unbuttoned, long coats ( if the day isn't boiling hot ), delicate silver jewelry, short heel boots. color palette: dark red, gray, black, gold, silver, white.
BACKSTORY:
trigger warnings: !! parental neglect, missing people, emotional manipulation, death, false accusations, survivor's guilt, implied murder, rich people being creepy.
tldr:
- born in manchester to a russian father and american mother.
- she kinda.. was there as a child. hey !! she had a roof, food, clothes, and stuff right? so it could've been worse.
- it did. her mom simply vanished when she was 8, and she never knew why or how.
- it got even worse!!! her dad remarried to an even wealthier woman and so the parties and elite connections began.
- astoria was molded to smile, to listen. and she soon enough learned that people gave her anything she could ask for if she said what they wanted to hear.
- one particular person from the circle, an "artist" they would call themselves, found an interest in her and so appointed her as "the ultimate muse."
- no one cared. not even her father, being too busy with work, women, and the overall idea that astoria would server as a bridge and connection for said "artist." in the end, connections were power.
- she learned to perform. to lie. to be charming and desirable without being touched. but it was lonely. was this really who she was?
- at least, she wasn't all alone. there was another girl, who had grown in the same circle. knew what it was like. was someone else's "muse." and so, one day they carefully planned how to escape to never come back.
- she was 19, when the night came, they had already planned it all out. had collected enough money and belongings to still let them live a life with enough wealth, and found a contact to help them erase their tracks.
- after another party where she just played arm candy, and bidding goodnight to "the artist." the plan was set into motion .. however her friend never arrived.
- astoria waited, and waited. but time was running out. she had to make a choice, look for her friend and risk losing the window, or leaving without her. and a choice she made.
- having dropped the last link to her father, astoria thorne traveled through cities to escape. and to finally make a life for herself. but the guilt of leaving her one friend ate her away.
- little did she know, the next day after she left manchester. two people were found missing, and another one dead. two girls had vanished like a lot of people did, and "the artist" was found dead.
- the death was ruled an accident. but whispers were shared, who was the last one to see them alive? who was always by their side? all the answers led to astoria timurova.
- but ahem... it wasn't her who did anything, she's blissfully unaware that people think it was her, and astoria timurova? idk her.
- eventually, she found herself at palmview grove. and you know? she can actually see herself long enough. proof of that is she's been here for 3 years now.
- started as a bartender at the Satin Rose Lounge, she became a manager within the year. no one remembers hiring her. no one really knows if she's the owner or not. she lets people think what they want.
- behind the seeming control she found again, she's still looking. for the girl she left behind. for a version of herself that doesn't need to pretend.
- little does she know, she's also been looked for. oh well that's a problem for future her lmao
✦ personality + headcanons:
!! in a nutshell, she's flirtatious, uses humor and performance to hide herself and how tired she might be ( her traumas, her jokes !! ), enjoys watching people squirm , only a bit. she doesn't mean harm though. unless you touch one of the dancers, do not touch her girls !!
!! she’s witty, self-aware, and hard to pin down sometimes. she rarely says exactly what she means, but always means what she says.
!! underneath all those theatrics, there's someone desperately tired of pretending — someone who wants to believe in softness again, but only knows how to survive with a persona.
!! If she ever lets someone in, truly — it’ll be on her terms. and it’ll probably be the most dangerous thing she’s ever done. not like she ranaway, right?
+ wakes up late, and looks like she had the best night of sleep ever. she didn't. and if you look closely it will be very easy to see the dark circles under concealer but don't look too close okay?
+ rarely seen smoking, even if the cigarette smoke lingers deep under her perfume. btw she wears billie eilish no 2.
+ keeps a notebook behind the bar with no names. only initials and drink orders.
+ speaks in very butched russian when very drunk. she doesn't know what you're talking about when asked.
+ never corrects people if they think she owns satin rose - let them think whatever they want.
+ changes the music depending on her mood.
+ still carries a bracelet from her friend.
+ don't call her any kind of nickname, you're gonna make her regress 32464 years.
+ randomly mumbles tunes she didn't know she remembered. doesn't address it. probably some of her mother's lullabies.
+ VERY protective. and will actually help someone out. but don't mention it. she doesn't know what you're talking about either.
+ kinda of a workaholic. you will see her more at work tbh than at her own apartment.
🔗 POTENTIAL CONNECTIONS / PLOTHOOKS
1. The Golden Regular
A regular customer — older or younger — who she tolerates more than others, could even say she likes them. Maybe they flirt. Maybe regular overshares. Maybe sometimes they ask too many questions she doesn't want to answer. Either way, they’ve earned a rightful seat.
2. The Former Performer
Someone who used to dance or sing at Satin Rose. Left on good terms… or under duress. There’s tension. There’s memory. There’s unfinished business. Dun dun. !!
3. The Unwanted Attachment
Someone who insists they’re her friend. Tries too hard. Follows her around. She finds them annoying… until they do something that earns her silent, permanent loyalty.
4. A Ghost From The Past
Someone who doesn't necessarily know her from before (but it could be if you want to), but someone who makes her remember someone from her past. Whether it's something good or bad.
5. The Bartender / Bouncer
They work under her supervision. The "muscle" that kicks badly behaved patrons out. At first, they were nothing more than another shift to cover. But now… They share slow nights, late smokes, and soft laughter. She never tells them the truth, but they might be the first person she doesn’t want to lie to. She may have let them a bit too close.
6. The Suspicious Local
They’ve heard whispers. The way she never talks about her life before Palmview. The fact no one remembers hiring her. They're watching her. And she knows it.
Anyway, if you read all the way through here ily. My name is Gaby, and I love angst and ic drama. I might be super slow at replying in general, dms and... replies. But I promise I am always so down to plot and write !!!
a blush rises through her chest at the others words, making itself known in the apples of her cheeks as she smiled gratefully. ❛ thank you so much, that's an incredible compliment. ❜ her hand goes to her chest, her sincerity shown in every movement, an unknowing foil to astoria's tone. ❛ if you thought i was the main event tonight, then you must come back tomorrow. harmony is working and she's a sight to behold. ❜
“harmony, hm?” her brow arches, interest threading through the lazy drawl. “darling, you’re really trying to sell me an encore before i’ve even caught my breath from tonight.” she lifts her cup in a slow toast, lips curling into a smirk. “dangerous move. you might actually convince me… though i’ll admit, the main event’s already hard to ignore.” her voice softens a notch, playful and edged. “and what do i call you? because ‘main event’ works, but i have a feeling your real name’s worth knowing.”
"I think he was hoping for another kind of memory," Savannah answered with a laugh. She hadn't meant to laugh at the kid. He'd just been shooting his shot, probably egged on by his friends. It was hard enough to be a teenager. "I'm sure he'll survive. Hopefully, they'll be someone more age appropriate scheduled for later who'll give him the moment he's looking for."
“ah, the eternal teenage dream— validation at any cost.” she tips the flimsy cup in her hand as salute, eyes narrowing in amused sympathy for the poor boy’s retreat. “age-appropriate or not, i’d wager you just ruined him for everyone else his age. high school crushes don’t stand a chance after that kind of charity work.” there’s a brief pause, her gaze scanning savannah with a mild curiosity she doesn’t bother to hide. “so what’s your angle, then? thrill-seeker? bleeding heart? or just here for the chaos like me?”
“do i seem like i have a confidence problem ? i'll have to work on that …" and he doesn't mean his confidence. “hey now, don't go dismissing THIRD PLACE. it's way better than a participation ribbon. it means i'm better than all but two people. besides, it gives me the chance to WORK MY WAY UP. if you're first place, the only place you can go is down." he leans just a little bit closer to the other. “and there's only one scenario that has me going down.”
her gaze drops to where he’s leaned closer, a flick of eyes deliberate enough to be felt, not subtle. oh, he’s one of those. astoria’s smile finally surfaces, slow and sharp. “darling, you should really save lines like that for someone impressed by third place.” she steps just slightly into his space — not enough to commit, but enough to hold it. “but hey, i admire the optimism. manifest big things, even if it’s just… going down.” a soft, humorless laugh follows, eyes narrowing in something between amusement and challenge. “careful, though. some people bite.”
her boots clicked soft against the floor, the pot still cradled in her arms like it might solve world peace if you just let it simmer long enough. “ sugar, if i was plannin’ an intervention, there’d be tequila and a handwritten list of grievances. ” she said, setting the pot down with a thunk that somehow managed to be affectionate. “ this here? this is just soup. no judgment, no lecture, no holy spirit. just some good ol’-fashioned garlic and guilt-flavored love. ” she looked astoria over — bare feet, smoke curling lazy in the air, shirt hangin’ loose like a shrug. sadie’s mouth curved, crooked and fond. “ you do look like you might faint at the idea of effort though, so i’ll take kitchen duty. you sit, and don’t you dare try to sass me from the couch or i will use the word ‘darlin’’ unironically. ”
“guilt-flavored love.” she echoes it like it’s a cocktail order, a spark of amusement behind tired eyes. astoria props an elbow on the arm of the couch, chin in hand, looking every bit the picture of languid decadence despite bare feet and undone buttons. “you’re spoiling me, sadie. next thing i know you’ll be knitting sweaters and calling me pumpkin.” there’s a ghost of a smirk as she exhales smoke away from the soup pot—habit more than rebellion.
“but fine. i’ll sit, let you play kitchen saint.” her voice softens a fraction, gratitude tucked in the edges, quiet enough to almost miss. “and i’ll try not to sass… much. no promises about fainting, though—especially if ‘darlin’’ leaves your mouth. that's my line after all.”
❛ did you enjoy the show? ❜ corinne questioned with a pleased smile. she'd been on her way out after her shift but she couldn't help but ask, being as elated now as she had been the first day she'd stepped foot inside the mermaid lounge. for her, the novelty had never worn off, she wasn't sure it ever would. ❛ you got lucky, i think that was one of our best ones yet. ❜ she whispered that last part like it was a secret, but, in truth, she said it every single time.
“enjoyed it?” she repeats, voice a touch too smooth to be innocent. “darling, i nearly applauded. and i never applaud.” she tilts her head, eyes flicking up and down — not rude, just curious. amused. “so, tell me — do you always walk offstage like the main event or am i just the luckiest one tonight?” a pause. a small, dangerous smile. “because if that was your ‘best yet,’ i may have to come back tomorrow. for research, of course.”
“well, IT'S RIGHT THERE ON THE SCREEN, so it's not like it'll be hidden.” he scoffs. “compensating ? oh, don't you worry – it needs no introduction. it speaks for itself.” and with that, he types DIK into the scoreboard. “and now it will have a lasting legacy. well, until a bigger loser with nothing but time to kill puts in the work.”
astoria lets the corner of her mouth twitch — not quite a smile, but one could say the easy quip back from him got her interested to say the least. “oh, so that’s your legacy. three glowing letters and a confidence problem dressed as a punchline.” then, with a head tilt that borders on mock-sweet: “but hey. third place is impressive. in the same way a participation ribbon is technically an achievement. “…next time, try O, N, E. manifest something aspirational.”
𓇼 tatum thinks about it for a moment. she's pretty certain no one would oppose to having a cat at home, but she's not so sure they'd like the surprise. “ i don't think my dad would take kindly to destroyed furniture. ” she can already imagine the look on his face at the sight of a torn up sofa. “ but then again, the thought of him cuddling this little thing is very amusing. ”
“it always starts with ‘he won’t like it,’” astoria says, crouching slightly to look at the kitten again — eyes narrowed like she’s judging a diamond. “but give it a week and he’s baby-talking to it while opening a tuna can in the kitchen at 2am.” she glances back at the girl, smirk curving at her mouth. “besides, destroyed furniture builds character. either way, makes things more interesting at home, doesn’t it?"
LOCATION: highwater arcade
STATUS: open / @palmviewstarters
“YES !” he pumps his fist as the music on the machine plays in front of him. he's not the highest score, but he's cracked top three. “okay, which initials are funnier – T, I, T or D, I, K ?”
“bold of you to assume anyone’s going to notice third place,” she says, stepping closer, eyes flicking to the screen like she’s fact-checking. “but if you're aiming for juvenile immortality, go with T, I, T — commit fully or don’t bother at all.” then, without missing a beat — “...unless you’re compensating. in which case, D, I, K might be more accurate.”
𓇼 dune animal rescue, early afternon
𓇼 open for anyone @palmviewstarters
𓇼 “ this one won't stop staring at me … i think we have a connection, ” she mutters, pointing at the kitten whose big blue eyes have yet to stray from tatum's every move. “ how bad of an idea would it be to bring a cat home without warning? ”
“depends,” she says, voice smooth. “are you trying to be loved unconditionally, or start a war at home?" her gaze flicks to the kitten, then to the girl. “i say take him. worst case, he ruins your furniture. best case, he ruins your entire routine. either way, sounds like a story in the making.”
Savannah was beginning to think that she was too old to be working the kissing booth, but it was much too late to back out now. She'd committed to doing at least one thing each month that would help her feel more like herself, and this crazy little idea was definitely that -- wild, carefree, consequences be damned. Plus, it was for charity. "If you were expecting a romcom moment," she laughed as she brushed her lips across the cheek of a blushing teenager, "I'm sorry to disappoint."
astoria’s been watching from the side, sipping something pink and maybe alcoholic from a flimsy paper cup. ( it was pink lemonade if anyone asked ) she hadn’t meant to linger — but the whole thing has been too entertaining to walk away from. when the teenager stumbles off, face red and pride hanging by a thread, she steps forward just enough to be noticed. “oh, disappoint?” she echoes, brow arched, lips twitching like she’s holding a laugh. not at the other woman, but at the boy. “darling, you just gave him a core memory. let the poor boy recover.”
why did she decide to sign up for the kissing booth ? well . . . she thought it was fun. at first. however, after standing here for quite some time and having to kiss those she wasn't fond of, she sighed and placed an elbow at the table, head atop of her palm. at least the money was going to a good cause, she kept telling herself. upon seeing a friendly face, her own perked up before saying, “i truly hope you brushed your teeth or had a mint, if you're planning on paying for a kiss.”
astoria hadn’t signed up — god, no. but watching? absolutely. she’s leaned just close enough to make it obvious, arms crossed loosely, one brow lifted in mild fascination. "look at you,” she muses, voice low, smooth. “suffering through bad kisses for charity.” her gaze sharp with amusement. “i was just going to watch, but if i stand here any longer, someone’s going to think i’m next.” a beat. “...should i be?” her smile doesn’t fully reach her eyes, but it lingers long enough and with a spark of mischief to feel like a dare.
location : your muses apartment.
status : open. ( @palmviewstarters )
she lifted a steaming pot of homemade soup in her hands, the scent of garlic and herbs drifted through the air. with a deep breath, she knocked on the door — three firm taps — her voice ready to break through with that warm, no-nonsense southern drawl when it opened. “ hey, sugar. i heard you weren’t feeling too hot. figured you could use a little something homemade to get you through. ”
astoria’s already halfway through lighting a cigarette she has no intention of finishing. bare feet, silk shirt, the exact image of someone who absolutely could be sick — if you didn’t catch the gleam in her eye. “hate to disappoint, but i’m not dying,” she says, flicking ash into an empty espresso cup. “just avoiding the early morning. doctor’s orders.” the scent hits her next — garlic, herbs, something that reminds her of a house she never lived in. and that's when her stomach grumbles and she realizes she skipped dinner.. and breakfast . “…but i won’t say no to bribery in the form of soup.” she steps back, holds the door open. “come in. but if this turns into some kind of ‘bless your heart’ intervention, i will dramatically collapse and make it your problem.”
