#𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐄 : with an cavernous hunger, you are a quiet god WAITING to consume. dependent muses for pandemonioushq. written in utter depravity by 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 ( gmt+10 | twenty1 | she + they )
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godless ground was never meant to play home to something quite so profound ⎯⎯ club offered as 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, & no amount of aged amber can DROWN the strange taste it leaves. she - devil knows he’s trying : moment of quietude finds aristide at the bar, pensive when he gazes into bourbon. ( knows he’s not alone, doesn’t seem to mind. ) silence is comfortable until he’s nudging emptied glass forward : ❝ one more, for 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 of us. on the house. ❞ finally, torso shifts / all elegant ripples & defined lines, something almost apologetic flittering at the edges. ❝ a rough day always calls for a drink. ❞
𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚃𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴, neither academics or business will ever put a stop to ramona’s midnight escapes / call it dedication to the job, a business is only as faithful as their boss ( and how easy you’d spill blood for them. ) shoulders shrug off a midnight blazer, vintage jewels cold against exposed collarbones & precise digits. gratitude comes in the form of a curt nod, honey hues observing the saint beside ; one of jean - paul’s friends, she’d assume, merely estimating off similar appearance ( an aura of death lingered on them like bad company. ) ❝ certainly one way to end the day, all 'bout balance. ❞ lips pursed as they indulge in a sip, ❝ gazing into your drink isn’t gonna to give you the same results as a crystal ball. ❞ a sham, but ramona always found such trinkets a little humorous.
The cherry of the cigarette burns against what should be a dark night sky. Las Vegas was always a strange place, full of excitement, brimming with experiences she couldn’t wait to have, but now she stood against the brick wall. Cigarette now burning her throat with a deep inhale, making it obvious she wasn’t even a smoker, not intentionally ignoring the stranger trying to pull her gaze from the pavement. Just not fully present in the space she occupied.
“Sorry, what was that? I was off in la-la land.” A stiff smile follows, as she finally lifts her head.
𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝚄𝚃 illuminated shades of sympathy. sturdy eyebrows knit together / tilt of their head to better study what inclination the other held. vegas is messy, certainly more filthy than what ramona thought of comparatively to years spent in california & england. but it held potential, instinctively the kind of soul to follow where the wind lead them ; in this moment, it had led them here. ❝ i said, it’ll kill you if you aren’t careful. ❞ lips upturned in a gentle smile, a sliver of an inside joke ( as if their own products doesn’t kill, if not, quicker when acting callous. ) ❝ you seem like you’d rather be anywhere else. what’s worryin’ that mind of yours, love ? ❞
𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. an all - night diner, the wee hours after st. michael’s day.
𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜. closed, to @godswoe & dominic langdon.
tragic, sorry state that he’s in ; thank god for small mercies, then, that she’d been awake for harried message in a hand most CERTAINLY not her brother’s. ( an employee, commission member ⎯⎯ 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎, called in backup in form of older sister. clever girl. ) trenchant gaze tracks a mottling collection of bruises, scrapes / judgment entirely absent in ceruleans. it’d only make her a hypocrite. ❝ wanted YOU to be the first to know, but. i, uh. i called in a couple favours. ❞ as if on cue, her phone 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 again, echoes against table & the whole damned place feels like it shivers with it. ❝ precautionary measure, more’n anything else. especially considering … ❞ ( what she leaves mute, of course, is carnage laid bare ; blood congealing on cathedral floor & cobbled stone alike, spilled wine & half the FUCKING city on metaphorical fire. waste of a good bottle of shiraz, if you ask her. )
𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙳𝙴𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂 𝙾𝙽 what remaining strength dominic has left in his propped arm / aching jaw left cupped in a calloused hand. memories corroborate very little; one moment he’s looking for an escape at the bar, the next, body exorcised from whatever hellish fever had overcome him & cane a shattered weapon. body wishes for a sinkhole to take him - how guilt chokes dominic at the throat, fury at a naught void. whatever has lead them here ( his family, the commission . . . luisa. ) when does the grief become tender ? dominic shouldn’t be surprised, but eyes catch sight of the phone & a fraught sigh leaves his bruised lungs, ❝ when did it become precautionary to bring others into a city that could quite literally kill ‘em if it’s having an off night. ❞ wit engulfed in sardonic venom / unintentional for the most part, instinctual reaction to the de ja vu sitting on his shoulders ( fourteen & coming home with matching bruised knuckles ; thirty - something & seeing his partner decapitated. the langdon life story was some sick, macabre joke. )
cherry of his final cigarette is smothered by the plastic table between them. ❝ precautionary measure . . . ❞ voice repeats, eyebrow raised. spine falls backwards as the pleather booth behind him softens the blow. something bitter reveals in his astounded smirk, a la younger brother stubbornness in the etch of the features. ❝ considering what rob ? ❞
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birth name . . . ramona margot wilde.
name meaning . . . of spanish origin meaning wise protector ; of french origin meaning pearl ; of english origin meaning person who has attained a higher form.
nickname . . . mona by close connections.
orientation . . . pansexual, demiromantic.
birthday . . . september twenty first, making them a libra.
birth town . . . manchester, england.
occupation . . . boss for the druids + philanthropist.
* & FURTHER :
education . . . masters in economics, undergraduate in botany.
relationship status . . . single.
family . . .
anya wilde, mother.
edward wilde, father.
playlist . . .
money power glory, lana del rey.
shameika, fiona apple.
oxytocin, billie eilish.
bitch, allie x.
main vice . . . wrath.
main virtue . . . humility.
mbti . . . esfp.
inspired by . . . queen maeve (the boys), shiv roy (succession), lorraine broughton (atomic blonde), poison ivy (dc comics) + the countess (ahs: hotel)
* & BIOGRAPHY :
◦ a child born into a world already wronged. the first began with their father leaving shortly after birth, cold feet hitting the ground hard and leaving for america. the country where a lie can flourish, find roots in the rotten soil, family would scowled. two academically bright minds at constant odds with one another. father’s side was removed like tumour, despite how they held their mother’s features, cursed with their father’s temper; a perfect composition of their marriage’s ruination.
◦ manchester felt too small to exist in. constant combat with their mother in grassy fields, her maroon hues watching for flaws. desperation burns with the magic shot out of ramona’s fingertips, the exigency to appease what projections generations held before them. their mother prayed to keep the family close, hypocritical to emotional detachment she felt for her reflection, hope akin to chasing phantoms. but neither could see a future of living by the sea, didn’t quite share the same affection for the small town ignorance their mother had.
◦ find yourself in the obscure sweetness of the london nights. maintain the reputation of the university’s party girl, double cross like the two of swords as interests dive deeper into learning about the real magic; fight both an internal and external battle. by this time, what little connection you held with your mother is only strung together with ropes of familiar blood and ego to see the other admit defeat, awaiting the day to be crowned successor.
◦ albeit removed by their mother’s steady hand, the absence is still felt by ramona. eyes still look into the midnight horizon of the void, wondering, if she stared long enough he’d come back - a father who’d learn to finally love the mark he left on this earth. by the end of her education, ramona’s life is at a displacement. travelling around the likes of europe but the soul has outgrown the petrichor weather, the melancholy of wanting more.
◦ move to california as destiny decides it’s time for a family reunion. find their father haunting in the crowd, affections defective but both come from the same cloth. interests collide in wanting success, with ramona as an up and coming philanthropist and her father having plans of expanding a drug empire from the calfornian homebase. she worked triumphantly through the ranks, a means to prove herself to her father when the time came.
◦ the universe calls for him to pay his dues two years later, mortality catching up to the bloodied truth. promises to the prodigy for them to take over when the time came, when that may be. she offers ideas like olive branches, a means to make up for lost time. the business begins to grow within the likes of vegas, finding a market that severely lacked for a city that pride itself on such rancid behaviour. during quiet hours, impatience glistens and she asks when will it be her turn ?
◦ as much as vanity claims to truly know his child, eyes are blind sighted by how similar one another is. ramona catches sight of a betrayal; handshake in the form of a knife. family remembers what wrath rests upon her temple, but they were no longer family. instead, ramona takes imitation of the scriptures from brutus. apologies seep out like the scorched wounds found on their father’s body.
* & FACTS :
◦ some still aren’t entirely sure what happened to edward after ramona taking over for him. a sense of denial that the man simply retired and ran back to the uk, however, those really in the known are aware that the night of his “retirement” ramona was in the bathroom scrubbing her hands clean.
◦ trying to break the cycle of detachment that a student faces from a mentee (having experienced it themself, and the experience being quite universal) and while critical, wants the best for any training druid and will offer to help at any chance they can ! everyone needs to start somewhere.
◦ it was ramona’s idea for the business to move to las vegas after doing a work trip and realising the potential. taking their headquarters to the babylon. upstairs running as their offices while downstairs is a fully functioning speakeasy, with labs scattered throughout the city.
𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐝. st’s michel’s feast evening.
𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. for @bloodfavored, closed.
𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴, move past colliding skin as intention leads towards the bar. a night of mourning the recent deaths ; apathy painted red on magdalene’s features, the past week of feigning sorrow for the fellow saint [ death herds closeness / realisation of a weak link in the chain ] but the dancer takes it a chance to shed skin, no need to perform when she looked this fucking good ! nails drum against mahogany surface as magdalene awaits for her drink. honey eyes trailing amongst the sea until gaze preys upon the sight of a langdon. nose scrunched, arms fold in distaste, ❝ thought i could smell desperation, nearby . . . what are you going for here ? sexy roadkill ? ❞
𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐝. st’s michel’s feast evening.
𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. for @bloodfavored, closed.
𝚂𝚄𝙵𝙵𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴’𝚂 𝙲𝙸𝚁𝙲𝙻𝙴. worn hues watch from a distance, la pieta’s church transformed before dominic’s vision / catholic guilt seeping with sanguine nostalgia. enough diamonds & jewels decorated to embody what iniquities the city has built upon. bodies six feet under for the likes of indulgence, moral high ground is a joke in these parts. what laws he memorised & studied, were executed when stepping over the nevada border. the night ahead screamed torturous, a slayer in a sea of the occult - what childhood has prepared him for, left battered & shell shocked. but while despondent features linger, instinctively grow fond at the sight of the priest. leg passively aches, but nic moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with sebastián. how’d the saying went ? ❝ so a slayer & a hunter walk into an early halloween special, starring the addams family gatherin’ by the pews. ❞ bears a grin to an old friend, sentiments alike to being sixteen & avoiding their parents . . . ❝ long time, no see, seb. ❞
pads of slender digits are a muted tattoo against hardwood, smoothed by age / elegant, arrogant frame draped across antiquated pew, he loses the battle against a melodramatic 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 at alastair. ( in all fairness, it’s not a hard - fought conflict. ) ❝ feel free to stay behind then, if you’re that opposed. ❞ no solemnity to it, not when mirth twitches in cuspate features, provoking ⎯⎯ & despite creeping sense of claustrophobia, he’s in peculiarly mild - mannered spirits. gilded divinity of the entire place hasn’t escaped him, but ungodly quantities of vintage merlot soothe the itch it brings about. ❝ … anyways, the broken bones ⎯⎯ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 ? there’s an awful lot of ways to break a bone & make it look accidental. ❞ ( he’d fucking know. )
he fucking hoped they made a move , did something to make coming to this absurd event worth their time . the man’s needlessly large frame practically vibrated with the need to break bones , to rip and tear . how unfortunate for him and those around him that he was raised and shaped to be a creature that needed violence like he needed to breathe . rather than being seated like his contemporaries , he was pacing , and would perhaps start wearing down the floor of this apparently highly contested building at this rate . ‘ there’s also a lot of ways to cause harm without breaking any bones . ’ he’d done and experienced most of those ways , and was proficient in carrying them out . blood would just add much-needed flavor to this outfit , anyway . ‘ we’re likely lose our chance to get the upper hand if we don’t move first , ’ he intoned , still circling restlessly .
𝙶𝙸𝙳𝙳𝚈 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙱𝙴𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃, how the ghastly cherub grins while she sits amongst the others. body curled upon the pew, exposed spine against mahogany wood. indulge in the sweet taste of champagne over the vintage merlots [ harmartias lingers from a time of pearls & flapper dresses ; death of the uknown starlet for a more appealing role ] feminine ego wordlessly enjoyed the dramatics of the night - the costumes, the overflow of booze, now discussion of an european trip. another sip of cold champagne to ease the awareness ; figures of sycophants & counts paced around, her fingernails glistened with the blood spilled to reach the same status. ❝ c’mon alastair, think of it some kinda work trip. although, i’m still holding out for meeting in costa rica for once. ❞ glass held against cold jawline, grip slithered around the flute with a coy smile. grave dig your own opportunities, mirror reflects the divine illusion that’s been created since. ❝ won’t suspicions be raised if we get out without a scratch ? ❞ audacity glisten in honey hues as gaze is thrown to aristide, ❝ wanna volunteer a bone or two ? promise i won’t go near that smile. ❞ jieun won’t mind, surely.
It’s not his style to find himself at events where the masses seem to congregate but the lure of the possible is enough to extract even the likes of Luka from his cave. His introversion is hung up for the evening, and he knows that there is a merit to these things. Magic sizzles from his hands in despondence to his own decisions, and he reaches for the calming cigarette to bring some semblance of calm. It doesn’t come but that doesn’t stop him from finding that spot on the edge of the balustrade of the balcony, hidden half in darkness and half bathed in the sounds from the party to observe the scene of a few partygoers below in the garden. A sound behind him alerts his attention to the fact that he’s not alone and he turns, half a sullen retort on his lips before he stops himself. “I know, I know, it’s a church and this would be an example of me desecrating the place,” he almost rolls his eyes at the comments he’s sure are coming. “But give me a break, yeah? This is fucking dress up party.”
𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝙾𝙽, lousy attempts to slaughter what lingering vices remain. give what you take / to learn to live with what horrors cerulean eyes have seen, medicate with nicotine & already half empty bottle. dismissal worked for so long [ alas, this isn’t new york & how hard you tried, the mind is unable to comfortably falsify as a bystander. ] stature remains dependent on the door frame, silhouette illuminated by the party inside as dominic couldn’t deny a chuckle. nonchalant eyebrow raised at the agent & his immediate riposte. ❝ i’m the last person to have any authority over what counts as desecration. ❞ humour rolls off the hum, coming of age memories of hiding behind pews learning to brave an inhale. body mirrors luka’s posture, settling the cane against the rail. ❝ one fuckin’ expensive dress up party. but i guess the night’s ruined with mixing business & pleasure. ❞ eyes trail over the garden, free hand pulling out his own pack, ❝ got a spare light ? ❞
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𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐝. behind the church, st’s michel’s feast evening.
𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. for the commission, closed.
𝙵𝙸𝙶𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂𝙽'𝚃 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝚄𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃. posture relies on the likes of wall beside his shoulder & cane / a gift from the likes of karma, manifested by the imprint of jean - paul’s boot. bind together by sanctified blood, lingering reminders of late night shopping have yet to fully heal. dominic awaits for the rest of the team to arrive, cigarette blazing away at the apprehension. it easier for a city to distract & forget, indulge with the glitz as he’d only assume mayor duvall was getting some poor interns to dispose of the bodies somewhere [ figure as crooked as any other in the city, equally engulfed by his own vices. ] but the commission were just guests, higher ups had to remind, no goddamn funny business.
ashes fell amongst the likes of decaying grass, boot squishing the cigarette for good, as dominic tried to stretch to his full height. ❝ nice to see most of us got the memo about blending in with the crowd. ❞ eyes linger over the sight of flannel ⎯⎯ not as if dominic had any opinion on fashion ⎯⎯ alas, ❝ i guess each to their own . . . ❞ hand falls to the inside of his pocket, pulling out a group of earpieces sitting in the palm of his hand. ❝ a gift, ❞ sardonic grin illuminates. & who knows, maybe the higher ups will fund them a proper office ! ❝ with anyone & everyone being here tonight, it gives every egomaniac with a bottle of expensive red a bettin’ chance. so eyes & ears out for any kind of weird shit, alright ? ❞
THE SAINT DIVINE, a vision in red dressed in vintage versace mimicking the artistic likes of the madonna. gold & lapis lazuli piece rest upon magdalene’s head. neck choked by aged pearls, gifts from bygone patrons, now bled red to match. as shades of baby blue stay vibrant over siren eyes & sharpened nails.
accompanied by the likes of @depravae ( 𝘤. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘯 )
credit found here.
RECOVERING BAD DECISIONS, the sight of sheer black & gold as a means of sacrificing complexity for something more simple. stacked necklaces in hand with matching rings to reflect the inspired tarot card. boots scuff in rhythm with temporary cane - matched gold to the crown worn on his head, the hanged man imprinted as a sigil.
accompanied by the likes of @sinhound ( 𝘭. 𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 )
credit found here.
he made himself comfortable , long legs stretching out to rest his feet on the table in front of him . this meeting was certainly to be expected , considering recent events . he’d been waiting impatiently for the opportunity to be deployed , the murder and display of one of their own offending him . but he knew better than to act impulsively or of his own accord , so he felt like he’d been showing an impressive level of restraint . he leaned forward when jp started speaking , hoping to hear plans of brutal revenge and blood raining down from the skies . the insult to their organization couldn’t be allowed to rest , and he would’ve been more than happy to dish out punishment . as such , he casually raised a hand . ‘ not to brag , but i have a pretty good track record for raising hell . ’ of course you would volunteer , wouldn’t you , mad dog ? ‘ and i always make sure everyone has a good time , ’ he added , sarcastic bite to his voice . ‘ just say the word . ’
curiosity killed the cat, alas satisfaction was far from sight. body stretched up following their raised arms, chair they’d wheeled in feeling awfully flat they’d have to ask jp to order a new one and causing aches odette believed to be unreasonably humane for a specie of their caliber. politics never interested them: to this day, talks of such felt all too similar to nails on a chalkboard, unpleasant. most of the big boss’ speech was muted out, gaze unfocused on the dirt speck on the wall that seemed to want to be here more than they. it’s luck ( rather lack of ) that had her tune in just in time for sila’s volunteering ‘ speech ’, face conveying the dramatized distaste whatever that was had her feeling. “ mad dog ? what’s next, silly kitty ? real scary. ” they found it humorous, to say the least. leather heels tapped against the side of the chair, tone light hearted, yet not quite enough to have others believe she was asking a rhetorical question.
𝚂𝙿𝙸𝙳𝙴𝚁-𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙸𝙳 behind cat curved glasses. a scarce day off had been ruined, entangled by the likes of recent news / headlines felt like a gift from the she-demon, herself. bittersweet, alas, when worked called magdalene subsequently answered. connections were formed & tied around dainty digits like red threads. twist & pull like a tango to get the answers the group desired. for now, she performs like a member of an audience; witness others’ egos demand attention while nicknames are thrown like loving daggers. dramatics follows like a whisper in the wind, magdalene tried her best to save it for the stage [ although, indulgence wasn’t sin in her eyes. ] willowy arms untangled & propped themselves against mahogany surface, bemused hum drawn from ruby lips. ❝ as much as i love a good ol’ rampage through the city, ❞ guileful smile grows. fond memories bellowed with mortal cries ⎯⎯ their ends met with a woman scorned. ❝ it’s just very blasé of you, jp. i’ve yet hear anyone actually mourn the guy ! ❞
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𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐝. outbound undisclosed nevada airport, late afternoon / few months prior.
𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. for @cassixjeo, closed.
𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽 what nevada’s summers were like / new york was somewhat comparable, but the mind still lingered in romania. the city’s harsh winters frozen on tattered skin. seven months, lowered into the ground with an empty coffin [ unable to look at their eyes, explanation bleeding on a bitten tongue. ] hair still recovering from make - shift black dye, cheeks finding their weight again. but the eyes, forever remain sullen in their sockets. a year gone by & he hasn't had a decent night sleep. conquest confides in him, as vengeance stands in his place of his reflection. he's an eidolon, chained by the haunting vitriol that burns inside.
a year stuck inside a shoebox of an office lead to waiting on the tarmac. body rests against the cool surface of his car, arms crossed and time ticking away in the back of dominic's thoughts. every man held his secrets / sins to atone for. but the sickly feeling remains on his hands, hours left scrubbing away his partner's blood, it'll never go away. swallow vile that tastes like rancour ⎯⎯ constantine will learn to repent by his hand, kneel on scorched earth.
records would remain absent. the rest of the team yet to officially make their way to vegas, while dominic personally taking it upon himself to set up their base [ another fabrication / how easy to grit teeth & push the guilt down. doesn't it terrify you ? ] returning back to his childhood home started with residing in motel 667 & having the daughter of his downfall meet him.
❝ glad you’ve arrived, kid. ❞ voice calls as he burdens a warm grin towards the femme - the beast & the hound have finally met. ❝ welcome to vegas. ❞ one arm reaches behind to life the trunk open, the worry of staying stagnant for too long might leave an impression on wandering eyes. ❝ c’mon, you must be starvin’ after the flight. ❞