INFERNO

I could see Melisa more for Odessa, Tempest, or Hadley, honestly! I do love her though, I think she’s absolutely gorgeous. For Yvette, you can maybe try Cansu Dere, Diana Penty, Dichen Lachman, Marisa Quinn, Meaghan Rath, Mercedes Mason, or Nadia Aboulhosn.

Hello new friend! Yes, she does both! And she’s also an escort in addition to the other two side hustles. Gotta love a girl with a whole lot of ambition but zero direction to back it up, right? Let us know if you have any more questions!

Yes, absolutely! And I know I personally would love to see Jin-ah around here, she’s lovely. We hope to see an application from you soon!

I definitely think Simay Barlas would work!

Hi there! It’s because Tempest does have a flexible face claim and having a non-Native face claim identifying as two-spirit would be inappropriate. So if they are played by a Native face claim, then yes, Tempest should remain two-spirit. But if not, then it remains up to player. Hopefully this makes sense for you!

Yes, we could see that!

If you’re not connecting with any of the alternates we’ve given in their tag or the alternates page, then you can try Adrianne Ho, Anita Marshall, Anne-Solenne Hatte, Esha Gupta, Julia Voth, Levy Tran, Melissa Barrera, Mylene Jampanoi, Natalie Martinez, Sonam Kapoor, or Yael Grobglas!

No, not at all! We just ask that it be someone who has video resources available so that we can assist you with making some gifs to use, as we would really prefer gif resources be used on the dash. But we do love underused face claims!

I’m a little torn, honestly? In her modeling shots where she looks more natural I do think she has a really good Tempest look, but in her Instagram pictures she looks a little too glam, if that makes any sense. So I think it would just depend on where you’re pulling resources from!

Yes, I think she’d make a lovely Yvette!

Yes, I definitely could! I love being introduced to new face claims, my goodness. We hope to see an audition from you soon!

Yes, absolutely!

Hello everyone! We cannot express how excited we are to have such a phenomenally talented group of writers starting out with us; you’ve all made our jobs incredibly easy! While we wait on accounts to roll in, we’ll be opening up the dash to ASK MEMES and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT GAMES, just so that no one feels rushed to get in on in-character interaction mere hours after being accepted. The admins will be reblogging quite a few for you all to choose from onto our character blogs here shortly, and you all can feel free to reblog memes that you find fun as well - tonight is just about warming up and getting ready to roll with the official opening tomorrow! 

She would indeed!

I could see them both working well, yes!

name: ursula braun

age: forty four

gender and pronouns: cis female, she/hers

loyalty: neutral

occupation: costumer and company member of le théâtre de nuit

criminal occupation: none

faceclaim: naomie harris

A child who wants the world will never get it freely - at least, not a child like you. The world would have you begin the race three steps back; you knew this, and so you vowed to run harder, work smarter, reach a little higher from the hard pointe of your ballet shoes. You came from dysfunction and still managed to blossom, a flower flourishing beneath the crushing weight of stacked circumstances; yours is a story the world knows all too well, and yet deems appropriate to overlook, but you were never the sort to stand being overlooked. Yours was a found family, a troupe of girls who dreamed of stage lights and velvet curtains, of roaring audiences and roses thrown at your feet. And while their attentions wandered, while they drifted off into the abyss of wandering, you persisted. Some started families, some went to college - some disappeared from your worldview entirely; yours was a singular focus, and so as they strayed from the path you’d all dreamed of, you worked harder. You learned to sew; worked three jobs to afford lessons, shoes, leotards; slept on park benches outside early-morning casting calls. Every so often, a familiar name would float across and out of your line of vision - invitations to weddings, baby showers, christenings, birthday parties - but you could not afford to be pulled into oblivion by those who were content to settle. 

A traveling company found you at a call in London, and you never looked back. You’d not spoken to your mother in months, though she was all that remained of your fragmented family, though you promised in a short and concise letter to send her ten percent of what you were paid at the end of each month. It was meager to begin with; dancers are hardly wealthy for a reason. But you sent the money with no note, no explanation, from a different locale each month. You knew it would be dangerous to look back, for the thrumming stream of empathy which threatened to run about your ankles, rooting you to the murky bottom, always babbled at the back of your mind whenever home was mentioned. You wouldn’t change a thing - you know that much, at least. But it has been a lonely road, clamoring your way to where you were then without the support of the girls with which you used to twirl about, without the mother who’d stood at your back through every failure. You wonder, in the small hours of the night, if the solitude was worth it; you were never allowed to plant roots like the ghosts of your childhood, for you became the longest-running member of the company in its history. And now that you have deigned to settle here in Paris, you do not know how to sit still, how to sink your ambitious claws into the dirt and stay. Perhaps now is the time to make up for lost moments of reflection, of peace. You cannot be a whirlwind of a woman forever - there are people here that may need you, wars waging that may require your aid. 

coworkers: carlotta giudicelli, ubaldo piangi, christine daae, baylen moreau, fleur renard, lea jammes, lisette sorelli, meg giry, odessa faust, sebastian renard, xavier carmen

curiosities: manon lellouche, xavier carmen, vitantonio damiana, narissa king

dislikes: raoul chaney, omar faust, dulce vilaro, remy bourque

MADALENE GIRY

You were parallel lines once upon a time, the night and day framing an artful dawn. Perhaps, had you allowed yourself to slow, you would have ended up like her, with makeshift family and business to sustain you. But you were never the sort to be shackled, though you are the sort to judge without reservation. You cannot imagine your life had you remained her parallel track, the moon to her dazzling sun; you see her now, and you see what you might have become - for better or worse. You would not have seen nearly as much as you have in your lifetime, but you would also have a family, a reputation to be eternally proud of, and the sort of stability you’d always thought you would eschew. 

INDIRA PURI

You are not a sympathetic woman, but there is something about the sympathy that comes from encountering a similarly rootless soul that stirs you. While you are as distanced from your empathy, your emotions, as you can be, a businesslike climber in every sense of the word - survival, you say - she is nothing but an empathetic streak. You feel for her, wonder where she came from, where she will go; she refuses to tell anyone of her origins, of how she came to be here, but you are determined to pry the truth from her. Not to destroy, as many would; not to judge. But to learn. She has no roots, no ties, no history, where you refused to create just that for yourself. Is she a mirror or a distortion? 

RICHARD FIRMIN

He makes you wonder if planting roots of the wrong sort might be the right way to get ahead in the world. Look at him - his life is so dualistic in nature, for he operates within the theater and within the whispers of dealings beneath the veneer of the theater, that you cannot help but wonder if keeping your nose clean is not the way to stay at the top of your game. Though you are getting up in years, you see no end to your potential; would dabbling in his sort of business keep you as young and successful as you always wish to be? Your vain nature is nothing near Carlotta’s, of course - you merely see and seek whatever it may be that will assure your success as long as you shall live. Is Richard’s way the high way?

name: manon lellouche

age: thirty five

gender and pronouns: cis female, she/hers

loyalty: neutral

occupation: investigative journalist

criminal occupation: none

faceclaim: sofia boutella

They tell stories about girls like you. Horror stories, tales of little girls whose innocence was clipped like doves’ wings and who never quite had the right light behind their eyes. You fooled them for a while, and perhaps you fooled yourself; your life was meant to be more than this, the facade insisted. You were meant to be more than this. You were born for braids, pigtails, Sunday dresses; but circumstances change, and disquietude blooms like ill-planted flowers where they are not meant to grow. You were suffocated in a greenhouse of your own design, a bloom upon a vine and not a stem, reaching for the glass ceiling and curling against the steamed glass; your mother and father had yearned for a different daughter, and for a time you tried to be that for them, to trim your ivy and plant your roots. But funeral orchids cannot grow in a bed of roses - and so you ran. You ran and you found yourself more alive and flourishing than ever before upon the road. You found quick work in the city, for Paris takes in outcasts and bastards as if they are its own. All you’d taken with you was your journal and your favorite fountain pen, and with it at your side you felt a lady knight with sword and shield; you could do anything without shackles upon your ankles. You fell into the world like a bird born with eagle’s wings, almost too late, and almost too quickly; you took up a job photographing a burlesque troupe in the fourth arrondissement, and just as quickly writing reviews to publish in the paper praising it. You took their photographs - and danced when the nights dragged on, when the wine flowed, when the prima dancer amongst them all squeezed your hand just the way you adored. You grew from Sunday best to crimson velvet and pinot noir, a muse in all its forms and a poet in your uncanny ability to immortalize the all too mortal. You became.

And then you disappeared when she did, if only for a time. You’d known that so many of the girls in the troupe had their hands in riskier business than their nightly jobs, but you’d never thought that you would fall for the one to disappear for good. You love her like you’ve never loved anything before. She was the muse to your poet; you wrote fiction and reality with her at the heart. You took photos, hung them on the walls you shared. And then she simply vanished, leaving behind nothing but a horrid trail of cryptic clues that lead to more dead ends than open ones. After a period of disquietude and despondency, you threw your efforts into finding a position with connections - investigative journalism was the cover you needed and the security you desired, the life vest strapped firmly about your shoulders as you descended into the underworld with only one motive in mind. Find her. Find her. You know that they have her, that they are at the heart of her disappearance. The Fausts, the new players in the grand game of Parisian chess; you have always been a vein of intrusive ivy, a lecherous choke. And you will squeeze the truth from them if it means returning your love to the light once more. 

informants: edmond ledoux, samir robert, zhu lau, fleur renard 

targets: karia faust, vitantonio damiana, antonin petrovic, rahim ahmadi

trusts: raoul chaney, veronica perez, madalene giry

OMAR FAUST

You know that he had something to do with it, with your girlfriend’s disappearance. He comes and goes from the church that you’ve seen her emerge from so often, speaks to that priest whose mere presence screams danger. And he looks at you as if he knows something, as if he dangles a feather before your eyes, as if he yearns to let you grab at it for but a moment. You can smell the hell upon him; so why does he spend so much time between the stained glass windows of a cathedral? You plan to find out. 

ODESSA FAUST 

The youngest, and perhaps the most vulnerable of the family you so wish to expose; kindness has proved weakness once before, and so you wish to woo the viper in any way you can, at risk of being bitten. She is the easiest in, the quickest way to the vault of Faust secrets; she is, however, an impossible mask to peer behind, for it is so colored with vitriol. But there is nothing you wouldn’t do, no depths to which you would not sink. You will peer behind the mask, bait the snake, do whatever you must - as long as you get answers. 

JOSEPH BUQUET 

He is perhaps the most reliable source that you have found thus far - and the least reputable. But you have found that the most rough-around-the-edges sources are usually the ones with the best information, and you would do anything, and pry into the secrets of anyone, for the information you need. You are an investigative journalist, after all - though you are more of a hound than most in your line of work. Your investigations are personal; you have nothing to lose. He seems to know this, to use this - but you don’t care. As long as you get the information you desire, there are no lengths to which you will not go. You scratch his back, he scratches yours.