cary elwes as
ephraim finch, father
ephraim was nell's compass, the guiding post by which her values were directed, her true north. despite his title as earl, he was always very present as a father. he was amiable and charismatic, the sort of person it was very easy to like and befriend. his dedication to care extended far beyond the walls of vulpes park or as an advisor to the late king, and he instilled a necessary sense of dedication in her, fostered a love of books and education, and made sure that she looked for the things that other's eyes could easily slip over. ephraim commissioned her well-known bow and gave it as a present for her birthday. notably, nell has her father's eyes.
christina hendricks as
mary-anne fitzroy nee everist, mother
the subject of nightmares, the wicked witch of every fantasy story, mary-anne is the mother selena never really connected to even on the most basic of instincts. it is clear from an early age when even your mother does not trust their child. selena seemed to be a constant source of headache for her mother. she much preferred the easily malleable twins. however, every daughter has inherited their mother's auburn in some form.
miriam leone as
siena rayes nee byron, eldest half-sister
every ounce of respect for maternal passion and grace derives through selena watching the way her eldest sister protected and cared for each of her siblings individually, no matter how they got along. siena, while well-known to be snark and snide, went well out of her way to provide security and stability in their household. she was always the first up to bat in the line of defense. it shocked everyone, and perhaps somewhat betrayed selena, when siena married for love.
sadie soverall as
sabrina paine nee howard, older twin half-sister
&
savannah hillingdon nee howard, older twin half-sister
the twins are mama's little precious ones. it is shocking between the two of them, there is still hardly enough brain cells to rub together and create a thought. they are nasty, mean-spirited, and deeply competitive girls who are desperate for any amount of attention they can get their grubby hands on through any means necessary. they have always been pitted against nell against all of their real wishes.
florence pugh as
selena finch, ghost
family feels like something that has always been too complicated. as if the reality of it is just outside of selena's grasp, like there is a large pane of glass between her and anything meaningful. no one even shares the finch name anymore.
sadie sink as
serafina willoughby, youngest half-sister
serafina hold the title and trophy for person that selena finch cares about most in this complicated life. when she could no longer maintain residence at nottingham, nell's first order of business was ensuring that siena and her husband could take sera safely into their home instead. she is a vibrant and lively soul with a passion for stories and acting them out in grand make believe. selena writes to her at least once a week.
other notable family connections:
donald fitzroy (current step-father), marie winchester (maternal aunt), mister winchester (first cousin), tobias thorne (maternal cousin), katherine 'kit' thorne (maternal cousin by marriage)
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A ausência do frio na barriga enquanto atravessava águas para chegar a Ardosia era sinal claro de que Zara parecia percorrer a volta de um caminho já transcorrido. Dar imagens próprias a contos de terceiros e leituras não tornava a experiência mais real. Deveria sentir-se animada, certo? Talvez, fosse melhor assim. Centrada para o evento de inalar o sacro cardo, completamente neutra e recomposta. Entregue, ou seria ausente? Longe de si, distante do corpo. Mente vagando até atingir o estado mais profundo de meditação.
E então, nenhum mestre particular ou outros anos de estudo poderiam tê-la preparado para aquele momento. A sensação de inquietude lentamente vibrando no mais raso dos âmagos; olhos abertos que nada enxergavam, até verem a própria imagem refletida--- como num grande e ornado espelho sem bordas. Rosto erguido, mãos alcançando as bochechas, pescoço, pensamento sendo puxado para momentos anteriores... Não estava se esquecendo de algo? Sobrancelhas franziram-se para o reflexo que parecia portar-se tão exatamente quanto a imagem original, ainda que algo naquela figura sutilmente quisesse lhe dizer diferente. Era uma imagem profunda, com alma própria. Densa e leve. Curiosa. Atraída pelo mistério, o indicador da Khajol esticou-se, e a imagem obedientemente replicou o movimento. Dessa vez, porém, portando um sorriso.
"Satisfatório." A própria voz ecoou no espaço escuro, saindo da boca alheia. Como num palco, Zara agora era rondada a passos lentos, observada com muitos escrúpulos e olhares que tantas vezes oferecia à quem fosse de sua convivência.
"Meramente." A Khajol respondeu, virando-se conforme a figura divina caminhava, sem jamais dar-lhe as costas.
"Precisamente." Enigmática, a figura lançava sorrisos que mais pareciam adagas. Cheios de dualidades. Medindo, ponderando. "Por que lhe escolhi?"
"Posso pensar em um punhado de razões." Era difícil acreditar que estava trocando palavras com uma divindade: com a divindade que mais lhe apetecia dentre todas outras... O cinismo e irreverência trocados eram saborosos. Não poderia ser alguém diferente dentro daquele jogo de sutilezas. E a figura também parecia gostar daquela pequena interação, ainda que provavelmente apenas se divertisse por mero capricho. "Se tivesse o pensamento raso... Diria que é pela minha famíia. No entanto, seguindo essa linha, você teria escolhido um de meus irmãos mais novos ou os filhos do Imperador. Mas Loki..." Quando Zara proferiu o nome, a imagem tremulou semelhante a chama de uma vela, como se aquela realidade tornasse a se moldar em torno dela, como se brilhasse em deleite e as peças finalmente se encaixassem. A Khajol deu um passo à frente. "Tem algo que admiro. Não é enganado por dogmas ou preconceitos. Não é cerceado por imposições de outrem. É ele quem o faz."
A voz da mulher não tinha o timbre bajulador--- mas sim, um de alguém que constata fatos, cita itens de uma simples lista. Por dentro, sentimentos confusos de admiração e certo receio brigavam para tomar controle das ações, mas a personalidade calculista aterrava e acalmava os ânimos. Deveria, acima de tudo, ser digna e agir como tal: sem inseguranças, dúvidas, ou medo. Se um Deus não fosse certo de suas escolhas, quem mais seria? A ilusão do controle sempre fora nada mais do que uma ilusão para Zara e ali, ela tinha certeza de suas crenças. O mundo sucedia e prosperava no caos.
"E está surpresa, pequena estrategista? Agora diga-me. Se já entendeu por que estou aqui, o que irá fazer com isso?" Ainda que Zara quisesse responder, parecia que seu tempo no Superno havia acabado. Até então, em uma vida cheia de regalias, pouco lhe revirava o estômago. Sua própria figura espelhada começava a ficar distante, afastando-se com uma risada intrigante e que para sempre ficaria gravada em sua memória. Loki lhe dera algo importante naquele dia: propósito.
O convite para o depois era implícito... Descobrir e aprofundar os dizeres do deus Loki. E o desafio de fazê-lo, inevitável.
↪ SOLO/THREAD BASED AROUND ONE OF YOUR MUSE’S FEARS
with @mixhyunwoo
Despite the demons that haunt Jongsuk’s every step, nightmares are surprisingly few and far between. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t carry the weight of his sins like so many in his situation do. He’s made peace with the devil lurking beneath his skin. It’s thanks to that devil that he’s survived living this life for as long as he has-- you won’t last long in the underbelly of the island by clinging to your morals.
No, it isn’t his deeds as a hitman or his crimes done in the name of Hydrus that plague Jongsuk’s dreams.
It’s memories.
Usually, one memory in particular.
Even today, Jongsuk sometimes struggles with the dark. It’s certainly not a weakness he’s ever given into and it’s hardly ever-present, but there’s no escaping the way that his skin sometimes begins to crawl in the dead of night when he lies in bed, too still with the world too quiet around him.
Tonight is one of those nights. When he wakes, he does so choking on the smell of rot, breaths caught jagged in his chest and feeling like they’ll rip him to shreds. He shoves the covers away from him as he jolts upright, head hanging heavy he presses a shaky hand to his throat and tries to breathe.
Nickname(s): Val, Bomber, Bomb. Tiny to very, very, very few in his past.
Age: 41
Date of Birth: Feb. 16th, 1977
Hometown: Dertosa lol. He’s never left.
Current Location: Dertosa, oh boy. This is depressing.
Ethnicity: Sicilian. There’s something else, too but God knows what. Guy’s a mutt.
Nationality: American
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/him
Orientation: tragically het/het
Religion: Agnostic. You get a fist to your head as many times as he has and try to tell him there’s a God.
Political Affiliation: That’s laughable.
Occupation: Head of Security at Forbidden Vices
Living Arrangements: He lives on his own in a small apartment not too far from Vices.
Language(s) Spoken: English
Accent: He’d say he doesn’t have one. The inflection of his voice is very rough, though.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.
Face Claim: Jon Bernthal
Hair Colour: dark brown
Eye Colour: dark brown
Height: 6′3″
Weight: 210lbs
Build: Fit, athletic. Despite not having boxed in years he’s in the gym keeping it tight and right because that’s the only life he knows.
Tattoos: Val’s arms, legs, and chest are covered in a variety of odds and ends, none of which are particularly meaningful to him. His tattoos mostly consist of the type of flash pieces you see hanging on the walls of tattoo parlors. Eagles, playing cards, pretty women, panthers, crosses, etc.
Piercings: No piercings.
Clothing Style: Val dresses in what’s comfortable and practical for him. He’s no fashionista, but he dresses okay. A typical outfit for him would be boots, denim, a white or black tee, and either a leather or denim jacket.
Usual Expression: Relaxed, contemplative.
Distinguishing Characteristics: Val’s nose, which takes over his face in a unique way. It’s a product of years of being broken and healed over and over and over again. He got lucky though, in that he’s still got a pretty good looking mug, unlike the rest of those underground boxing fuckers.
HEALTH.
Physical Ailments: HAHAHA shit Because of the nature of his past “occupation”, Valentine’s body is fubar. His joints click. His shoulders frequently pain him from past lacerations that weren’t healed properly. The same goes for his knees. His hands swell in the night when not in use. Basically, if you name a part of his body he can tell you something that’s wrong with it. Aside from the important parts, wink wink, nudge nudge.
Neurological Conditions: Mild memory and cognitive issues due to multiple concussions.
Allergies: Does bullshit count? None.
Sleeping Habits: Val goes through phases of sleeping really well or not sleeping at all.
Eating Habits: He’s a human garbage can. He will eat almost anything that’s given to him. He loves home-cooked food, but he’s not a good cook, himself. His diet basically consists of whatever he can grab quickly and doesn’t have to think too much about. That being said, he does eat often, and loves to snack. He’s almost always hungry.
Exercise Habits: Valentine goes to the gym daily and spends the majority of the daylight hours there. He doesn’t have much else to do in the daytime besides sleep.
Emotional Stability: Despite having plenty of demons and sorrows of his own, Valentine is a pretty stable guy considering. The only thing that throws him out of whack is when someone tests him hard enough to make him snap, because that is when he switches gears and can become extremely hostile.
Sociability: Val prefers being around others. When he’s alone he has too much freedom to start thinking, and when he starts to think he starts to become depressed. For this reason he is rarely by himself, but rather out in public.
Body Temperature: Val is very hot-natured. He’s always warm, but he doesn’t feel warm, himself. He’s like a human heating pad lol.
Addictions: In the past he was addicted to a number of stimulants. It wasn’t the drugs, themselves, that he was addicted to, but rather the action of taking them because of his own mental issues that he didn’t know how to handle before getting sober.
Drug Use: See above. Cocaine and speed were big factors in his addiction.
Alcohol Use: After he was dumped by his coach and the underground boxing crowds, Valentine became an alcoholic to deal with his bodily pains and the fact that he had nowhere and no one to turn to. This ended when he was taken in by the drinks, specifically with Drink #2.
Goals/Desires: To protect the Drinks and Vices to the best of his ability. To not fall to addiction again. To open up enough to let others close to him.
Fears: Addiction, drowning (he cannot swim), ending up all alone.
Hobbies: He keeps a pretty mean fish tank in his apartment. The sound of it helps him sleep. He also collects auto magazines, but that’s just a fancy way of saying he’s a hoarder and doesn’t want to throw them out. Sometimes he will coach hopeful young boxers at the local gym he works out at if he’s asked. It’s not exactly a hobby, but sometimes Val will drive out of Dertosa to the outlying desert just to see something that big. He never goes much further than that.
Habits: Val is almost constantly cracking his knuckles and various joints in his body that pop. He snaps his fingers at his sides sometimes when he’s thinking. He likes to whistle. He can never sit in a chair quite right; he’s either leaning back or stretched out, never upright. He clenches his jaw frequently. Like any good Italian, he’s prone to gesture with his hands when he speaks.
FAVOURITES.
Weather: He loves when it rains at night and you can see steam rising off asphalt.
Colour: He doesn’t have a favorite, but he’s partial to red.
Music: Classic rock, mostly. He likes hiphop, rap, and some of the trap stuff that’s been released lately even though it all sounds the same.
Movies: Action films. He doesn’t keep up with Hollywood or recent films, but he loved the Fast & Furious series.
Sport: MMA, Boxing, Wrestling
Beverage: Arizona brand fruit punch in the 99 cent can.
Food: Oh god anything. He loves a good burrito or bowl of pasta best.
Animal: Dogs. Jesus Christ he loves dogs so much.
FAMILY.
Father: Who?
Mother: Her name was Marianne Segreti, but she went by a different name on the streets. She died in ‘97 when he was 19. He doesn’t like to talk about it, or her.
Sibling(s): None? Honestly he probably has some half-siblings out in the world somewhere.
Children: None. He always did want a daughter though. He’s just never had the opportunity.
Pet(s): He has fish. They’re all named Fish. He wants a dog but he doesn’t want the responsibility.
Family’s Financial Status: He was dirt poor growing up. His mother had no extra money outside of what was used to rent motel rooms for her and Valentine to sleep in at night. He wasn’t wealthy, but he became moderately affluent during the height of his illegal boxing career, but that was short lived. He does okay now.
“We seal our fate with the choices we make.” ( x )
Solana was the sunshine I was born under
She was the rain on my forehead the day I went home
If she knew what the world had to offer then
I wonder if she would have taken it
Would she have made the choice of pain?
Would she have decided that school was a better option?
I know she would have chose the latter
Maybe this is the reason she is gone
Whisked away into a honey sunset
Living the not so happy ending she wanted
And this is why from the ashes of failure
I was born
To seal my fate
To make the hard choices that she couldn’t
This is a goodbye letter to that wide eyed girl
The one in pigtails and rosy blush
This is to you Solana Paula Young
This is your last and final goodbye
Believe me when I say
With all of my heart
That it was worth every second
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mattress:
yungho will strategically shift his mattress so that it aligns with the morning light pouring into the warehouse from the window. in that aspect, he’s like a kitten scouring for warmth, as if the cold nights of sleeping in the streets have been permanently etched into his flesh and bones and he’s merely trying to soothe over the scars. however, so as to not obstruct the way to the toilet and shower, his mattress has been shifted to a more horizontal position.
furniture:
everything that yungho needs and has is in his big black duffel bag next to his pillow, horizontal, just like his mattress. he has learnt to let go of most worldly possessions so his sole possessions are down to the most functional things in his bag. even his alarm clock is propped inside his bag.
housemates:
having lived by himself for so long first by circumstance, then by choice, yungho is not at all used to have housemates. upon seeing them and depending on their age, he might bow or nod his head at them but other than that, he wouldn’t interact with them (or at least initiate the interaction) because of how guarded and private he is. however, as time passes, he’ll definitely be friendlier and warmer. also, sometimes, if he’s not paying attention or aware, the sudden sight of his housemates will startle him because he would’ve totally forgotten they were there.
keys:
yungho doesn’t take the key because it feels too much like an anchor to him. so instead he knocks on the door each night when he’s done from work hoping someone is in to let him in or huddles in front of the door until someone with the key returns. in fact, he’s made a duplicate copy of the key but it sits in his bag, unused, and might continue to be so.
organisation:
yungho is very organised. he never fails to keep all of his items neatly away in his bag before going off to work, zipped and mini-padlocked, as if he could leave at a moment’s notice. with the limited number of things that he owns, there isn’t much of a mess that could be made. a minimalist concept.
it swept through the forests in midwinter, the coldest, darkest part of the year, when ferocious winds and storms howled over the land. anyone who found themselves out of doors at night during this time might spot this ghostly procession – or be spotted by it. they are arbiters of justice. when accounts of the wild hunt mention a leader, the figure who filled this role varied greatly. those especially closely associated with it are deities of the dead, inspiration, ecstatic trance, battle frenzy, knowledge, the ruling class, and creative and intellectual pursuits in general. in the body of lore surrounding the wild hunt, we find a number of themes that connect it powerfully with the dead and the underworld. for one thing, there’s the ghostly character of the hunters or warriors themselves. dogs and horses, animals that were closely associated with death were almost invariably present.
