#conor.

ABOUT

Conor grew up in an old, dark coven led by her mother Ophelia who was corrupted with power and perversions of magic. Despite Blair's best attempts to shield her and their brothers from their mother's and coven's darkness, each of them fell into their own ways of coping. Like Blair, Conor's was the bottle. Finding solace in the pleasant buzz it brought to her life, even if it did make her magic a bit more unpredictable.

When Blair finally got them out, Conor was still a teenager, and though she followed her sister, she, like her brothers, pulled their own weight. They were ruffians, street rats, doing their best to get by together. But they were together, and that's what mattered.

Conor was always vocal when she disagreed with a decision, or when she thought her siblings were being dumb, but she loved them to pieces, even if her way of showing it was snagging a few mini bottles from the cash register of the local wine and spirits. She was there when they detoxed Trick, and burned through her sleeves, tangling them into knots as she listened to his agony.

Blair pulled them through the worst of it, and provided for them what their mother and coven never could. Conor was never as talented with her words as she was with her art. She transferred the darkness of their past to canvas in a way that helped her process the pain of what they'd gone through.

Their coven-not-coven became an odd family of sorts, and though Conor remained closest to her siblings, though not without the typical sibling bickering, she found people fascinating subjects to translate into art. Everyone who came through had a dark past and the walls of a spare room in their house was covered in her work. She'd spend hours working, listening to podcasts on aliens and other conspiracy theories, as well as random pods about herbology, focused on growing odd plants, with the help of some of the earth witches around.