gold runs in her blood / .

[xsorceressx]

circe ~

| biography | skeleton | connections | muse |

[abaddoomed]

"There's no need to exert yourself on that one," if he wanted to send Rome's citizens spiraling, the Archfiend could transform into a massive locust before Circe could snap her fingers to turn them into otherwise prized pork. Abaddon made themself comfortable, sprawling their legs upon the counter of Circe's shop, arms crossed behind their head, "What are you up to in Rome, anyway? You have to pick a side, Circe; there's no playing impartial." He smiled as though the Despoiler had merely asked her what she was planning for dinner, "You may as well align with my brother before he strips your shop down to it's foundation." An exile of Elysia, she had every reason to hate the Gods and yet here she sat pretending she was so far removed that she could ignore what was to come.

[xsorceressx]

The archfiend would find themself in a rather unpleasant situation, if Circe were to reach for the stave that she kept upon herself at all times. The locust that Abaddon had become familiar with would be a far cry from what her imagination could conjure for them. Perhaps a small, small variation of the insect were to fit them. "Do I now? Have you brought a pamphlet with you then?" There was amusement within her tone, upon her lips as she watched the archfiend intently. She trusted none of them, least of all the one that now settled themself within her shop. "And which brother would you be referring to?"

[xsorceressx]

where. lupercalia who. @crcssrcads

A small part of Circe still believed that her brother would come back to her. A much larger part had come to terms with the fact that she would never get the chance again. That his soul now belonged to Trivia, and that the magic upon her fingertips would be the closest that Circe would come again to Perses. Which meant that in some way, Trivia was something of a sister to her now. A fact that she would need to handle with care, should she want some kind of relationship with the other. "Have you come to see who the new alpha will be?"

[xsorceressx]

where. lupercalia who. @zahryaofdawn

A part of her advised that she should remain away from Lupercalia, from where the lycans would be gathering. For she knew that Nashoba would be within the crowd, or among those who intended to join the competitions. They had not spoken since what had been between them had ended. But through the pain that seized her heart, Circe knew that others would be in attendance of the event. Those who she had not been able to spend enough time with, a fact that she intended to change. And so, as she moved through the crowds of lycans and other such species, her gaze sought out the nephew that she hadn't been given the privilege of watching grow. Who she had now since been able to provide advice and teachings, a fact that she held close to her heart. "Ah, I knew I would find you here somewhere," she mused, a pleasant smile upon her lips.

[xsorceressx]

It would be the same song and dance, the thought that Circe were some divine creature that would be tainted by his touch. That he would mar some saintly quality about her. Oh, how she hated it. How she despised this very idea of her. As if she were not capable of destruction, devastation. Her gaze focused upon him as the words settled in, eyes narrowed despite his confession. Nashoba loved her, he had for the many years that they had known each other. And he had risked everything for her. Yet, here he stood, with the want for her to go. To leave him behind for some idea of something better just beyond.

"No," the word slipped out only after a moment of silence, of careful consideration to his words. "That is not something that I know." Words spoken deliberately so that he understood the truth behind them. Circe was no divine creature, despite the divinity that coursed through her blood. She had acted out of jealousy, out of anger and rage; she had destroyed lives for the sake of her own want. Nashoba needed to know that he could not taint her anymore than she had done herself. "I will go," words followed up as she stepped back, distance strengthened between them. "But I will leave you with the thought that you have always been deserving."

[nashalbrecht]

More distance was placed between them and it made it easier for him to accept the words that had just left his mouth. It didn't help with the words that had left her own, but it would have to. Because he wasn't going to keep doing this over and over again. Nash could get over her killing him. She had done what she thought was necessary. He wouldn't have been able to do the same, but he wouldn't have ever had to think about such a thing. Circe was better than him and he was just someone scraped off of the bottom of the barrel. Maybe he'd be more than that one day. He already was given this gift he had been given. Then again, he was sure that he was the only person that would see something like having a fiend inside of them as a gift.

His mouth opened to possibly call her back, to tell her not to leave, to say he hadn't meant those words he had spoken. Yet he closed it immediately and remained silent. Brows furrowed as she spoke of him being deserving. It was a lie. He wasn't deserving of anything but what he could take for himself. Nash had made sure of that. And people were not amongst that category. Circe was not amongst that category. So, instead of saying anything, he shook his head and walked away.

END.

[abaddoomed]

A goddess and an Archfiend, not exactly what one would define as friends but Abaddon still enjoyed Circe's distaste at him merely existing; a man's gotta eat. "You don't bother me, I don't bother you," clearly a lie for, here he was being as compelling and wonderful as ever. "Besides, turn me into a pig and I'll turn you into some magic-less herbalist," Abaddon smiled, it wasn't a threat but a promise if she dared turn him into the pink, truffle-rooting morsel.

[xsorceressx]

Circe did not fear Abaddon, nor did she their siblings. The archfiends of the Inferno were formidable, surely, but all such creatures had their weaknesses. "Perhaps another beast then. Or one of those locusts you seem to favor so highly," there was amusement in her voice, for there would be an endless list of what she could turn him into. Perhaps something with a very small mouth, or none at all.

[mercenaryjonah]

Date: January, some time Location: Çiçek Characters: @xsorceressx & @mercenaryjonah Notes: so anyway boss

Jonah had applied to be a full time employee, if only because it gave him a better cover as a normal person. He didn't really need money urgently - he'd made more bank with one commission than he did a few months working at a shop like this. He had a hefty savings, enough that working part-time at a store would have always been enough to live. He'd been doing really well - showing up, not talking a lot, even covering extra shifts. But, in his heart, he knew this couldn't last forever. This normal life - his life was never meant to be normal. One day the mercenary knew that his encrypted email would pop up a notification with a job that he just couldn't resist and couldn't ignore. All his building altruism couldn't stop him from taking a commission that wasn't the usual ones that he had committed to ignoring: killing cheating or rich spouses, business and political rivals. There was only so much of his nature that the cambion could change. He was better but he would never be perfect. And so the question popped out of Jonah's mouth before he could really stop it. His boss had been stopping by to sign some paperwork and Jonah had been taking his scheduled lunch break just a few feet away from her.

"If I ever want to be part-time, how would that... work?" He didn't want to leave and find another job. Jonah liked it there with all the natural merchandise that he was well acquainted with as a killer-for-hire, even though he didn't know what his boss actually was and she radiated something that made him slightly apprehensive. Probably some powerful being from some sort of myth - there was no shortage of those in Rome, the Caput Mundi.

[xsorceressx]

The shop had been created with only one thought in mind: to provide the necessary ailments for the citizens of Rome. There had been no want of money, nor to establish herself in any higher regard. Which may be why any money that was earned from the sales often found itself in the palm of those who sought employment. Of course, this was when Circe did not just give out the remedies from the goodness of her heart. Perhaps when it had just been her, before one after another came to her door with the request of working for her. And who was she to deny them such a thing.

Jonah had been no different. A cambion with infernal blood within his being, who attempted to hide the darkness within him. Circe had known monsters in her life, had dabbled in treachery. But she had made no move to deny him such a request simply on the choices that he had made in his life. Even now, as he blurted out his question, Circe took it in with a careful sense of consideration. "It would work however you wanted it to," she stated, task at hand dismissed as she turned her full attention to him. There had to be a reason behind his request, and she couldn't help the want to understand what it was. "Am I not providing you with enough?" For perhaps he had needed to find a secondary employment somewhere else.

[nashalbrecht]

Nash had become really good at lying. Not many people knew him down to his core so it was easy for him to get away with it. Well, with everyone but Circe of course. Maybe, once upon a time, things would've been different. Maybe if he wasn't the person that he was, he could've allowed himself some semblance of happiness. However, he wasn't a good person. He wasn't someone to look at and think forever was worth it. And he wouldn't do that to Circe. He'd told her before and he would tell her many times that she had much better options. What he'd done, he'd done for her, but maybe some people weren't meant to last forever. Maybe. Honestly, the ball had never been in his court. He'd lost love before and he could do it again. So he would lie. He'd lie and lie and lie until he was blue in the face, but it would be worth it for her happiness. They were on different sides of this after all. What more did they have for each other?

A few moments passed as he looked at her. She spoke, but it almost felt like white noise. He knew what he would say to her regardless of what left her mouth. The question she asked only cemented that. "I love you, Circe." He let out a breath as his gaze fell away from her to some spot on the ground. Looking at her would probably make him incapable of saying what he needed to say so he chose to look anywhere else but at her. "I love you...but love isn't enough sometimes." He cleared his throat. "I want you to go. I need you to go." He finally looked up at her after the words left his mouth. "I do not deserve you and I think you know that."

[xsorceressx]

It would be the same song and dance, the thought that Circe were some divine creature that would be tainted by his touch. That he would mar some saintly quality about her. Oh, how she hated it. How she despised this very idea of her. As if she were not capable of destruction, devastation. Her gaze focused upon him as the words settled in, eyes narrowed despite his confession. Nashoba loved her, he had for the many years that they had known each other. And he had risked everything for her. Yet, here he stood, with the want for her to go. To leave him behind for some idea of something better just beyond.

"No," the word slipped out only after a moment of silence, of careful consideration to his words. "That is not something that I know." Words spoken deliberately so that he understood the truth behind them. Circe was no divine creature, despite the divinity that coursed through her blood. She had acted out of jealousy, out of anger and rage; she had destroyed lives for the sake of her own want. Nashoba needed to know that he could not taint her anymore than she had done herself. "I will go," words followed up as she stepped back, distance strengthened between them. "But I will leave you with the thought that you have always been deserving."

[vidalarentia]

"I don't know a lot about tea, but I can learn." He was good at picking things up and experimenting; maybe there was a market nearby that had an assortment he could pick up. "Maybe... Too strong?" He'd cranked up the intensity because Italians loved their espresso, but maybe he'd taken it too far. Still, it smelled amazing, so as Aytaç worked over the machine's first honourary cup, Vidal had to try the second. "That guy that's in here a lot, the tall one... How does he take his coffee? Or is he a tea drinker like you?" If Vidal could get in good with the owner's boyfriend then the likelihood that he'd get fired for blowing up the hydrangeas was much smaller.

[xsorceressx]

"I have no doubt you can," because if there was one such individual to learn what they could, Vidal would be at the top of the list. "There's more than enough in here to get you started. Though I suggest the basics is where you begin," if only so that those items do not find themselves a victim of the young witch getting in over his head. "I fear I'm not the best judge for that," she smiled, as she set down the coffee cup. There would be no second taste, not for her. Her smile seemed to falter, as Ismael was brought up easily by the witch. But the question caught her by surprise, if only because she did not know. Circe had offered the cambion more than enough in the way of tea, but did he actually enjoy it? Did he prefer it? Or did he simply take it because she had offered it? "I'm afraid I do not know that," she mused, an almost embarrassed air about her now. "I'll be sure to ask the next I see him."

[abaddoomed]

a starter for @xsorceressx,

Polar opposites since she'd come forth, the sorceress and he had long been at odds. He loathed her stern abstinence, her charitable endeavors, and everything in between; but much like Abaddon was an insatiable glutton for food and flesh, he could also be a glutton for punishment and the archfiend found himself coming forth to vex the sorceress by any means necessary. Abaddon slipped forth before Circe, grinning ear to ear; if Circe was this paragon of virtue, her direction of turning men to pigs was the one fruit which spoke of any corruption within her. "Collect any pigs unto your roster lately?" A mindless endeavor, the archfiend was already distracted at the thought of smoked ribs, pork belly; mmmm, barbecue - he'd have to check out Lycaon's ribshack soon.

[xsorceressx]

Abaddon, the very embodiment of gluttony. Just one of the princes that had been released from the Inferno. And somehow, they had found themselves continuously within each other's orbit. For Circe seemed to be the very opposite of the archfiend, capable of allowing others to have what they wanted without so much as a qualm to what she was left without. Though treated unfairly for much of her existence, it had not smeared such a grim outlook on her want to help others. "If I had, they would not become the next meal upon your plate. Unless you wish to join them as they are."

[ismaelabdel]

Ismael knew she was otherworldly from the very moment he'd stumbled upon her shop, a beacon of beauty and of substantial knowledge, Circe was a gemstone hidden within the melting pot that was Rome. He understood, since the End, that many were called here as though they could salvage an eons old pressure cooker from erupting, but there was once a sense of gratitude at having stumbled upon the goddess, at having been accepted by her despite the infernal blood which encroached upon his mortal roots. In a simple reasoning, the cambion had to know her, her herbal work was something that may have been insipid knowledge to many but Ismael asked eagerly, found his attraction to her grow under the mere basis that was Circe talking about her eons old passion.

Doomed, damned by the fates, cursed by the supposed Graeae; it hardly mattered to Ismael as the cambion was finally able to kiss upon her. Whatever relationship devised between them may have felt the weight of the world upon it, the timeline-that-wasn't, the blood on both of their hands as they merely tried to survive. He'd shed away each layer of tainted ichor as they each shed their clothes, Circe's kissing searingly apologetic as the goddess promptly pulled him flush against her once more. The weight of his frame fell naturally between her thighs, goosebumps betraying him as her hand fell beneath the fabric of his shirt to trail along the infernal warmth of his skin. Ismael's own hand slipped up to squeeze her hip, to roam each divot and mound as though he were mapping her frame to memory, a slow advance as though time had ceased around them and they'd all the time in the world to utter silent apologies and confessions within the clinic's spare room.

[xsorceressx]

Love had, for so long, been a betrayal to Circe. From the familial love that was meant to be there for eternity, to the love that she had so freely given out. From the human that she had turned divine, to those that had stumbled upon her island with sweet lies upon their tongues. Over and over, love had betrayed her. Had reared its ugly head to push her further away from its warm embrace. Years had turned to decades, which eventually turned to centuries, and still, Circe had remained upon her island. With only her plants, and the wolves, and the men that she had cursed into pigs to keep her company. Love had been a lost gift to her. Until Nashoba had turned up within her life, into the freedom that she had seized when the seraphim had turned away. With the blood of his own kind upon his teeth, with destruction in his eyes, he had not been the love that Circe had anticipated.

Nor had Ismael. For though she had promised herself to not fall so easily, had she not done exactly that? When she had recited to him the knowledge that she had, or when she'd joined him upon that dance floor. Or when she had promised to return to him, to protect him. To not allow them to be separated. Perhaps that is why she drew him ever closer, pulled him into her for fear of the space that may expand between them. Or perhaps because she had longed to do precisely this from the moment that he had returned to her little shop, again, and again, and again. A creature of infernal birth that barely reached the cusp of what Circe had seen throughout her existence. Everything that Nashoba was, Ismael proved to be nearly the exact opposite. As if they combined were precisely what Circe had been seeking all her life.

His hands were on her, a burning path created as they moved along her hip. Along what was offered to him, as her own hands moved against his warmth. Her fingers drew soft paths, slow, despite the years that she had unknowingly been waiting for him. Until she could not house the virtue any longer, as fingers curled into his shirt. As she pulled it up, towards her with the very want for him to remove it entirely. Which would mean that she would need to stop kissing him, and that seemed a cruel punishment for the want of something more.

[ismaelabdel]

Where Nash and Ismael were so often separated by petulant ire, Circe and Ismael were alienated by the words they seemed dire not to say. Ismael could not yet summarize this despair that had taken root in his heart, that churned within his gut and made it impossible to sleep, to work, to revert back to this normal life he once cherished. A life of mundanity that the cambion had fought tooth and claw to keep; it'd been gifted back to him all for the ultimate price of six lives and that guilt was enough to make his head spin. The lives that his powers claimed during the aftermath of the war, the timeline-that-no-longer-was, the lives that had been taken to salvage him and the rest of the world; Ismael refused to linger on it any longer, not when Circe was sat before him, radiating this palpable comfort in the form of an embrace.

A slow and languid kiss was enacted, his hand slipping to cup her jaw as the other slipped and wound around the small of her back as though Circe could manage to be pulled any closer. Their frames were fluid against each other, the cambion standing between her legs, kissing her with this melding of languid intensity; the clinic had closed hours ago but Ismael still garnered some sense of tact for a goddess as he picked her up from the receptionist counter to bring her to the spare room he so often stayed when an animal needed more round the clock care. It was a small bed, something which the cambion himself barely fit upon but there,even before a goddess, the Innocent had often felt void of shame for his simple offerings in life. She was a creature of strength, a woman weaned on ambrosia to become this divine goddess that he had been fortunate enough to worship.

[xsorceressx]

Had she thought about this moment, considered it since they had shared their first kiss upon the dance floor? Circe would have been a fool to deny that yearning that had settled within the core of her being. For another kiss, for something more. Ismael had swept into her life as seemingly an intrigued patron of her shop, with questions of how she could possibly know which plant would produce which sort of remedy. Day after day, he had returned to her shop. And day after day, he had burrowed more soundly within her being. As if he had always belonged there, as if he had filled in that empty space so profoundly within her heart. Nashoba had taken root so many centuries ago, and perhaps she hadn't yet realized the small hole that had still lingered even after he had.

Fingers danced across her jaw, an arm pressed against the curve of her back, daring to pull her ever closer. Yet little space remained between the pair, bodies pressed ever so tightly together. Even as he shifted, as did she with him. Legs moved to curl themselves around his middle, arms draped across his shoulders and splayed against his back. Her lips did not leave him, even as they slipped from his own to move against his jaw, down his neck. Each kiss held its own apology, its own promise that Circe would never leave him. Would never dare to let the future repeat itself, not if she were capable of writing it herself. And as she met the bed beneath her, she drew him down with her, into her as her lips returned to his own. As her hands trailed down his lengthy frame until she could slip her hands beneath his shirt, against the warmth of his skin shielded from her.

[vidalarentia]

One question dawned on Vidal that he should have asked if Aytaç was a coffee drinker. Honestly, he'd just assumed. "Oh... You don't like coffee?" Aytaç was an enigma; who didn't like coffee? And this was definitely coffee, so if his boss didn't like it, he might have wasted the entire morning making something only he'd benefit from. "We could... Always offer some to customers." This was Italy, "People love caffeine here it's like in their blood or something."

[xsorceressx]

Was that not normal, for one to not enjoy the taste of coffee? "Oh, I simply prefer tea," she noted, as she accepted the cup of coffee anyway. The smell was strong, pungent, as it filled the space around them. But Vidal had spent time upon his contraption, seemingly instead of the duties that Circe had assigned him, and she would not simply brush that aside. "I believe many of them will appreciate that," she mused, before she brought the cup to her lips. The smell was stronger, seemingly filling most of her senses, before she took a sip. As bitter as she remembered it to be, though she held any such notion from her features. "It is strong," which likely wasn't entirely what the young witch wanted to hear.

[xhermesx]

This was starting to get more convoluted as Circe spoke, and Hermes sighed now as he poured himself more to drink. He was happy to see her, but this was stuff that he'd forgotten about. Hermes had been with Than for so long that the little nuances of meeting people and dealing with them had been lost on him. "Right. You did what you had to, then? You gotta give me more. What does this Nashoba mean to you? What did he do during the shitshow?" Luckily, Hermes had died. Early on. His memories of the brief moment he'd been inhabited by a god – too much for him to handle without getting angry.

[xsorceressx]

It should have been obvious to Circe to start at the beginning, given who it was she was speaking with. "Yes, I did what I had to. But that does not make this any easier," she confided, for the draegloth's blood would still be on her hands. Even after it were washed away with time. "He means... everything to me. But he aligned himself with the Asphodel. With those willing to destroy the fey." Even if Ayi'ig were no more, how was Circe meant to come to terms with it all? To trust that Nashoba would not turn on the elves once more?

[vidalarentia]

@xsorceressx location: Çiçek notes: employee connect starter <3

Growing up coffee was a big part of his life, truth is he probably didn't need to drink it because Vidal was hyper and distractible enough as it was. Yet, here he was, brewing something that he loved. Well, he wasn't brewing it. Drip coffee makers were already automated but after taking apart the machine and putting it back together again he managed to calibrate it so that not only was it absolutely perfect, it actually finished five seconds earlier. "Okay, here, try this. It'll change your life I promise." The plants weren't watered, the potions weren't reshelved, and Vidal had forgotten to change that light bulb in the basement. This had taken him most of the morning though so he hoped she liked it.

[xsorceressx]

It had always been Circe's belief that one did not get better without rigorous practice. Though, she supposed that would be the belief of many. Which is why she never reprimanded Vidal for his contraptions, for the various items within her shop that were often left gutted and scattered about. The witch was young, and curious, and eager to discover more of what he could do. Even if it came at the expense of the items that had once been something else. "This smells like coffee," she noted as she stepped closer, gaze shifting to the latest contraption he had been working on. Or rather, what he had been doing aside from working. "Will it taste as bitter as the first time I had it?"

[nashalbrecht]

Nash had never hoped to see her upset. The thought of it infuriated him more than anything else could. But they were in this situation and there was no going back on what had happened. The draegloth could mention how it was his fault, how he had forced her hand and had to deal with the consequences. He could have done that, but he didn't. Instead, he simply stood there hoping that those unshed tears never fell from her eyes. Normally, he would've burned down the entirety of Rome just to find the person that had upset her. But how could he do that if he was the one responsible? How could he atone for mistakes he didn't know how to atone for? Did he even want to? There was a lot going through his mind and not enough time to process any of it. He'd never had time to process anything though. Why would he have been able to now?

As she stepped forward, he stepped back again. One thing was clear to him and it was that they should be apart. They needed to be because all he had been doing lately was hurting her the way he had promised he wouldn't. Everything he did was for Circe. And now? Well, now he wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to do when his allegiances were so against everything she stood for. She had been okay with him being a cannibal, a volatile that fed off the hurts of lycans because he deemed them to be a sickness that needed to be cut out. This thing with the Asphodel was so much bigger than that now. He could've lied, but that wouldn't have done anything but somehow make it so much worse. So the space between them now was good. He couldn't step closer to her now because she was not his to have.

"I know you're not lying, but I wish you were." It was true that she meant everything to him, but...how did you let someone go that you spent five hundred fucking years of your life loving? "Let me go, Circe. You have..." He let out a breath as he looked at her. "You have better options."

[xsorceressx]

The line in the dirt had been drawn, for as she stepped forward, he had stepped back. A distance had grown between them, and it had become more profound than the mere foot that separated them. Nashoba had sworn himself to the Asphodel, and she to the elves that she had been exiled from. Many may never understand her choice, the willingness to risk her life for them, but Circe did not need them to. She did not care for the opinions of others --- except for Nashoba. Except for Ismael. They were of great importance to her, and she had betrayed the both of them. She had made her choices, no matter how they twisted the organ within her chest, and now she needed to make amends with that.

Let me go. Did he understand the request that he had made? Did he not know that even after what she had done, she had not been able to let him go? Those tears were in her eyes, and as she shifted her gaze from him, she forced them away. She would not cry for this moment, if only because she knew that this was not the end. That their story did not end here, even if she allowed herself to be pushed away. To be shut out because he believed it was for the best. "Five hundred years we have known each other, and I have loved you for every one of them," she stated softly, as her gaze focused upon the space that separated them. "If this is what you truly want, then so be it," it was not the end, it couldn't be. "But you must be the one to tell me to go. Tell me you do not want me here, and I will go." This could not be the end.

[xsorceressx]