à la folie!

Lila runs her fingers through her hair, fixing it in the bathroom mirror as the music from Ambrosia bleeds through the walls. She’d been meeting a potential client, but something about the man had given her bad vibes, and so she had been quick to cut it to a close. It’s merely a precaution, to wait for a moment him to leave the club first, to ensure he holds no ill will with intent to follow after Lila because she has denied him. The door opens behind her, and her dark eyes glance through the mirror cautiously, only to find one of the dancers entering the restroom as well. Another witch, that is easy to tell. “I saw you on the stage,” Lila says, after a moment’s pause. “Your performance was enchanting.” ( @prunellelefebvre​ )

-

@prunellelefebvre​

Location: Temple of Apollo

The full moon was a week away and already Kore could feel its power quietly creeping under her veins. Corinth was a wealthy city, or so the werewolf had been told. As of yet she was unimpressed, besides a fanclub devoted to the same range of trashy romance novels she adored, and a genasi that was more of a brother to her than anything, there was little that piqued her interest. A pack of wolves circles this place, high in number but united by little more than self-interest. As far as she could tell anyways. Were it not for Saint she never would have come here, there were easier marks, sure, but the wolf had an interest in magical items and artifacts that bordered on obsession - she wished to possess everything she saw, and it was not enough for her to be know, Kore wanted to be feared. 

The scent of magic filled the air, familiar as an old friend the tether she felt to all witches beckoned her. This was no call though, merely the presence of a power to which Kore was well acquainted. She’d been raised within a coven, one that the wolf ultimately helped destroy, but a coven just the same. “They say magic was created right here,” Kore said as she pointed at the ground beneath her feet, dark hair fell across her shoulders as she turned towards the woman that approached. “leave it to the Greeks to place themselves at the center of everything.” 

-

Werewolves were not the only species that were somehow affected by the moon’s pattern, its pulling only strengthened the baysides tides and mixed the indole with the salty sea. Prunelle had never felt more powerful than right here. Even back in France where her familial ties were strongest, there was a different itch that was scratched when emerging into Corinth. A wicked smirk hung on the fringes of her lips, bouncing around the ruins without much fear, and enjoyed the little game she made for herself as she balanced on the wobbling stones. The temple had served as such an active location; it seemed the prime location to see or overhear the activities of other supernatural beings within the area. Maybe stumble upon something fascinating.

Prue, as she so often did, got her wish as the sound of wolves howls filled the air around her. Unfiltered giggles fell from her lips as she welcomed the sound, soon finding herself also howling along with them before sensing the presence of one of them. It snapped her back to her location and the shades of youth dissolved, “Can’t exactly argue with them about that.” Her icy hues moved to lock onto the strangers, wondering how someone was able to just sneak behind her so casually like that, “Seems the fate of magic on Earth lies within its foundation.”

*

The vampire retains her humanity in this moment, a soft smile curling on her blood red lips as Prue is quick to deduce what will be be best for the overall show tonight and this is why Evie is grateful that she arrived with strong training from Paris. It held it’s own for the theater and burlesque in that corner of Europe. “I think so too.” Once they reach an agreement on Prue’s costume for the night and the witch turns to return the other dress, a buzz of pre-show energy was in the air and she always adored that feeling right before an performance. Her charcoal hues skate towards the eyeshadow palette that waits on her dressing room table. Darker, glimmering colors reflect back with corresponding lighter earthy colors. It was a purple eyeliner that she had in hand when Prue’s question meets her ears and she turns to give her full attention to her dancer. Evie would never admit to feelings of hesitation or nerves but at times, it is there. “It’s mostly gone away throughout the years, I know I have the power to entrance my audience and I don’t forget that. Women carry magic, sex and seduction in their bones, if you don’t forget that, the crowd won’t either.” Using a brush that had yet to be used, she teasingly boops Prue’s nose with it. “You are quite a beauty and have nothing to be shy for.”

-

Every inch of Prue enjoyed this. The sound of the audience slowly filing in and getting comfortable, the last minute choices that could make or break the night. It wasn’t often that she was under the care of someone such as Evie, either. A woman that truly knew how to run a business, down to even the most hair-brained details. It wasn’t just refreshing, but almost a little humbling as Prue finished pulling on her bodysuit before sitting at her vanity. Fingers moved quickly to start placing items out before her that she would eventually be using; brushes, eyelines, and an array of eyeshadows that felt luxurious. “It’s not so much a timid feeling as much as it’s—” and she goes to pick up her primer and starts smearing it all over her face, “it’s this dibbling in my mind that just tries to get me to forget my moves or twist wrong.” Maybe it was more a fear of losing her ability to dance, even if most of her past injuries were easy repairs or sprains, “Like this angst over the idea of letting them all down.” Though she didn’t say it, Prue knew that the vampire would understand who she was meaning. The crowd, the paying customers that looked forward to that moment of being entertained and having an experience. Much like she had when she was a young girl and seeing the Nutcracker for the first time.

@prunellelefebvre​

There was some time before her set still, but Emma liked to get there early to make sure she was ready in time to go on stage. It was thanks to Harlow that she’d even started working here, a female vampire owned burlesque lounge was a strong niche that Emma willfully fit into.The other girls that worked at Ambrosia were a blend of different backgrounds but all had Evie to thank for finding employment here and something that almost resembled a little family. It was nice, and if anything else it was a good distraction. Emma was still feeling unsettled in the city, something in her stomach just twisted as if the city was very, very wrong. Harlow hadn’t had any answers, and neither had Leighton - though they hadn’t exactly gone that far into their conversation. “I see why everyone is always talking about your fan dance,” Emma pointed out as she sat in front of her mirror getting ready. Prue was talented, all Emma could do really was stand in place and sing. Lefebvre was not a name that the vampire was overly fond with but she wasn’t going to judge the witch prematurely for the sins of her forebears. The crowd continued to cheer despite the fact that Prue had left the stage and the next act was piling out of the dressing room to entertain the audience. “have you worked for Evie for long?”

-

In some ways, it was bittersweet to see individuals from her past that she had long thought would stay there. But Emma hadn’t ever been one of those and it was nice to have a bit of the swamplands within the bayside of Greece. It’s not that she had really intended that to happen, just a lovely surprise as the supernatural community seemed to flock to the location. Prue knew why, at least enough to deduce that it had to be Persephone’s pull. Which only added to the witches excitement as she bloomed under the cult’s close influence, her senses on high without even a drop of liquor. “You’re too kind, as always, mon chéri,” she was still all dolled up and attempting to clear the makeup from her face, the bright hue of her vanity mirror highlighting the spots that still held glitter. Her words tinged on a southern accent, “I think it’s been a few months now, so not long. But I don’t know— at times it feels longer.” Or sometimes it felt like it had only been a few days, but that was a detail that could remain from exposure. There had been more than a few screws loosened over her time with the cult and the witch hoped to keep business separate from pleasure for as long as possible, “How are you feeling? Adjusting okay?”

-

Reapers were omens of death, wherever they flocked, it followed. So many of them had congregated here in Corinth and their work was tireless. Though at any given time they could be anywhere in the world, Emre’s work most often kept him here. It did not bode well for the sake of the Greeks or those that called this city their home, all these harbingers of death were here for just one thing. Though, Emre supposed he did not need to lecture one of Persephone’s about that - death was the Queen of the damned’s greatest gift, and immunity from it is what she’d passed on willingly. There was a reason why her cult predated any of the Olympians, why they’d revered her first in Crete before they infested the world. “And so what - you want to join them? Truly, join them. Part with your blessing from Hekate and trade it for one from her closest friend?” Curiouser and curiouser, Emre could not imagine what sort of life a witch would have to lead in order to bring them down such a path. “And if they decide your usefulness has ended, if She decides your purpose has already been fulfilled - you’ll what - ?” He looked towards their alter, “Walk to the flames willingly.”

-

Just the words escaping the Reapers lips was enough to draw light behind the witches eyes, “If that’s what She desires.” It was a rather quick answer that took no force from her, having fallen in love with the Goddess what felt like ages ago. Sure, Prue understood that her family had much to do with nurturing and leading her this way. But death and its close tie with life had always fascinated her, along with her unique ability having convinced her at such a ripe age that she was destined for this. “What matters is the greater good, what’s best for the cult,” hues stayed locked on him as she proceeded around the room, not having to look in order to know where her feet should be placed. Maybe it was linked to her dancer mind, the way Prue could walk around the room as if she was made of air, “and sometimes that means serving her in other ways than a physical form.”

*

Ambrosia was quickly climbing to the top of Rowan’s favorite night venue location and it was merely because Prue had taken up a seat next to her. She felt like a embarrassed school-girl trying to hide her excitement that the pretty dancer decided to pay her a scrap of attention. Her internal voice just told her to ‘remain cool’ and her self-protection instincts warn her that she could survive this encounter even if it was to go bottom-up. “No, it was definitely not too much.” She rests her chin on her palm, giving the witch her devoted attention. “I think you could definitely experiment with adding more to the chains next performance if you would like but I doubt there is little you can do that would distract others from your beauty.” A soft smile blossoms across the phoenixes lips, she sure is awkward while attempting to rejoin the dating pool. “Are you still on the clock? I can buy you a drink if you like.”

-

Of course the witch was still on the clock, adorned in attire that was meant for her to wander in after the show was technically over, but that wouldn’t stop her from taking a free drink. “It’s fine, one glass of red wine won’t get me in trouble,” which she commonly got on the house anyway, though that didn’t need to be revealed to the stranger, and allowed the words to lingerie in hopes that her point went across. “I suppose you are right, given the fans and all— Might start getting too busy,” the witches eyes washed over the other as they sat close together, “But I think the turning of the season will change the color palette for the routines, so maybe golden tone would do the trick.” Her southern drawl weaves itself in and heightens itself at the word in the most stubble way, “Here I go again, dragging others into my worries about frivolous things and didn’t introducing myself. I’m Prue— please tell me about yourself.”

“I liked the fans.” Ambrosia is far from the first club she’s worked at and she follows a strict set of rules every time. Rule number one, after getting hired, is to make friends or at least establish herself as being open to making friends. There was more to it than that, too. Not every showgirl did their own costuming, these weren’t just coworkers, they were potential clients. Harlow glances sideways at Prue at the next station as she puts in a different, smaller earring, small smile playing across her lips. “I wanted to ask Evie if she’d let us do the whole martini glass routine.” @prunellelefebvre​

-

It was one thing to hear some blanketed praise from Ambrosia’s infamous bouncer when it came to any given routine, but it was another coming from the strawberry-stained lips of Harlow. Felt more special, especially with her attachment to the House of Sanshin and its owner. Prue had been inside the shop a few times because of Evie’s influence, though that connection hadn’t stopped the sourness that somehow established itself in the demeanor of Rimona. The brightness of the vampire that stood before her, however, was a nice break of pace. But those thoughts would hardly ever escape Prue’s mouth, keeping it shut on that matter and the iciness she had felt within the store. “Truly?” her eyes soften as she looks at Harlow, cheeks flushing to a light shade of pink at the compliment, “I’m always concerned whenever I switch things up in my routine.” Because more often than not, the witch was ruled by the emotional tides within herself, “And I think if anyone could convince her, it’s you.”

-

“We haven’t been here long, a month or so at most.” Time was difficult after all these years. The ranch, Texas, it felt like a place out of time. But Eli found himself nearly counting the days down in Corinth, practically crossing out days on the calendar. Maybe Prue will make it easier, having more people he knows around. Sitting across from her, he takes a sip of his own coffee as he crosses his legs at the ankle. Or perhaps her being around would make things worse. While he likes her, likes company in general, he wonders if she’s just going to be more cause for concern. “We brought our ranch hand with us. He’s less than a year old, couldn’t really just leave him.” It’d have been cruel to leave Felix behind after he’d essentially died saving their home. He was family now, as much his own progeny as Cal’s as far as he was concerned. “Have you given that much thought yet? Turning?” He does wonder if that’s something she’s aiming for herself, given what she’s a part of.

-

“How cute, a little love child,” she states before taking a longer drink from the bitter coffee, hands reaching for the lumps of sugar at the table’s center. But before she could press more on it, Eli pushed the topic onto a topic that had been on her mind for ages. “I think about it every day,” the witch finally answered as her sapphire hues looked down at her coffee cup. Hadn’t her whole life been designed around the idea of one day being turned at Persephone’s wishes? Much like some who dreamed of their wedding day in their youth, she imagined a day in which the goddess would choose her and allow her to sever her tie with Hecate, “The timing just— hasn’t been right.” A romanticized notion as she attempts to deflect any blame on the cult’s part or on the goddess herself, hardly wanting to rush into something she dreamt about, “My current gift has still shown its use to them, so here I remain.”

-

Bold. It was an endearing quality for a witch, one who apparently did not fear much of the dark. This woman would have been wise to run, or try to anyways. That would have been amusing, but she made no move to, instead she remained transfixed in place as if already under the whim of his compulsion. He kept his leveled gaze at bay and instead opted to trade words with the witch that weren’t layered in magic. “It’s fine,” he said instead as he glanced at the spot where the woman had disappeared. “I had my fill.” Viraj folded the square and replaced it in the breast pocket of his jacket as satiated eyes raked over the other’s lithe form. “It’s late, this city is a dangerous place for a witch to be out walking alone.” 

-

The water witch knew he was right, the bayside had been swelling with chaos, but that was precisely why she was here. Not necessarily on this very evening as bags hung on her shoulders that housed various outfits she wore at Ambrosia. “It’s such a beautiful night!” Prue practically exclaims with a bit of a bounce in her step, despite the bits of exhaustion that started to peek through her makeup, “And, I mean— usually I have my scooter, but it’s being repaired.” But that wouldn’t have stopped the witch regardless, especially with the smell of Persephone’s influence all around them, “Curious, though, why you’re worried about someone such as myself?”

It had been so long since she had seen her cousin that it was a shock to Zara when she actually saw the other witch. Zara had been so young when her sister died and she couldn’t quite remember all of the people she had once known. However, she did remember Prue. She could remember the times when she couldn’t say the other blonde’s name correctly, usually ending up calling the other Belle. Yet…why did it look like Prunelle didn’t know anything about her? Couldn’t they recognize each other or was it just Zara that was aware? “Prue? You don’t recognize me?”

-

When was the last time she had actually settled her sapphire irises on the other? Over a decade ago, hadn’t it? Prue’s mind gave way to a flooding of information that she had long ago suppressed or moved on from. The trouble she had gotten her cousin into, the events that had led to her death and all the pain of feeling responsible. But Zara didn’t carry the water element like Val had and that only added to the water witch’s inability to draw a finger to it. Eyes hung over the features of the blonde witch, “Sorry, I- I really don’t.” 

*

A break-up, only it stills on her tongue because she doesn’t wish to be so pathetic as to be caught mourning a relationship where she never ever got to call the werewolf her girlfriend, unless it was in her head. It was one of those almost relationships, they almost fell in love, she almost got to take her home, and there were too many near kisses to count, moments where Rowan wanted to surge forward and press her lips to Demet but fear kept her back, not wishing to ruin what they had and face rejection. They ended on good terms too, a tender hug and a kiss pressed to both cheeks as she held the tears in. Demet deserved better than this hell town and she hopes that she’ll find it someday but for now, the phoenix will drown her sorrows in cocktails and pretty girls. “I needed to get out of my head for a moment, you were beautiful up there.” She takes a sip as she mulls it over. Your boobs, definitely your boobs were my favorite part. Answering a little more classier than the initial thought. “I liked when the swing came down, it was very enchanting and played up the fantasy aspects a lot.”

-

It’s difficult for the witch to not let out a snicker at the woman’s thoughts, a feeling surrounding the other that wasn’t nearly as bright as their aura. At least the stranger could joke, even if it was mostly in their mind and was frankly an easy quality to admire. Prue knew this was a kind of invasion to privacy, but some individuals were hard to ignore in her line of work. Others she just had a natural curiosity to and she played at the idea that this was her way of getting to know them, though that more than likely crossed a line too. Sapphire irises sparkled with the setting, sliding into the chair next to the woman and found herself waving down the bartender for a water. Whisperings and rumors had a way of gracing the witches mind in some fashion or another, words spoken of such species as Phoenixes. Of course she knew of shapeshifters that descended from Phoenix’s lineage— they were scattered all over the swamplands of Louisiana, but she couldn’t draw a comparison to the magic flowing from the other. “It wasn’t too much?” a coy grin that accompanied the silky words, “I thought about adding something to the chains, give off more of the fantasy element but I didn't want to overdo it.” She shrugged lightly as the water hit her grasp, “What do you think?”

@prunellelefebvre​

The denial of a soul crossing over to the other side was always a gigantic waste of time, he had no coin to part with, and moments after bringing them to the Underworld they were yanked back into their bodies. Reborn a vampire. Emre might have suspected as much would happen given the creepy cloaked figures and the weird ambiance of ritualistic sacrifice. Emre lingered in the chamber, invisible, until most of the cultists had cleared out. It was not his place to persecute or pass judgement, he was a shepherd that brought souls to the other side and delivered comfort to the damned when necessary. But still, curiosity was in his nature. “Why are you with them?” Emre asked, appearing at the edge of the chamber with his arms folded cleanly across his chest. Only the witch remained, she had been present through the whole thing, the sacrifice, the transition, but what was her end goal here? 

-

A muffled voice she didn’t recognize came through the crowd, toying with her attention as the rest continued to perform the sacrifice. It was part of what Prue did— listen, along with making sure the setting around them was still flourishing. But nothing came of it and her mind drew her back into the words being chanted around them, though that didn’t mean the witch had forgotten. Reapers, although she couldn’t say it was a common occurrence, were sometimes known to skirt around under a cloak and watch as they played with death. This moment felt no different and as the cult members scurried out, off to other duties and preparations, Prue stayed back with her sapphire hues scanning the room. A lingering feeling, one that held a dark signature yet differed from the kind she was often exposed to. She got her answer once they emerged from their camouflage and truly spoke, not just Prue overhearing the scattered thoughts of their mind. Why? The question threw her off guard for a moment, a cheshire grin crossing her face as light feet moved about the chamber, “I’m with them for the sake of Persephone.” And to one day be chosen to shed this form in her honor.