#inferiii

▐░ @inferiii | LET ME RANT ABT HOW PRETTY CAEL IS | STATUS: ACCEPTING

FACE: cael has a rather round face in her childhood, which does slim out in her late teens/early twenties, but not by MUCH. however, she has always had rather aristocratic features that come from her father, which she used to hate. she has pronounced cheekbones, & nice, arched brows. she has a full mouth with both a thick upper & lower lip, & it’s very, VERY soft. she has a larger nose, but it’s proportionate to her face.

Romeo always felt uncomfortable at these gatherings. whenever there was any sort of pureblood rally ‘mixer,’ she was always forced by her mother to attend ( to further her OWN political standing, of course ). Romeo knew her own family was less than proud to show her off, but they were obligated---she was their HEIR. it didn’t lend to her being thrilled to be there. then there was the underlying tension of having the Montagues and Capulets under one roof. but the Escalus family was hosting, one of the oldest on the west coast, and people had come from as far as England, Germany, Japan. there was an obligation to keep up appearances. they had to play nice.

Romeo had lost track of Mercutio some time ago, and Benvolio had conveniently stayed at home. no one cared much if he attended, being a half-blood branch member of the family. Romeo clutched her firewhiskey closer, took a burning gulp, and scanned the crowd for a path of escape. none appeared. she scooted closer to the wall, huddling in on herself as if it would render her unseeable.

belatedly, she noticed a figure out of her peripheral, a beautiful STRANGER slouched against the wall a mere few feet to her right. he appeared as dissatisfied as she felt, though, she reasoned, she could well be projecting. after another fortifying drink, she moved closer.

ophelia was blurring at the edges. she flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, shut her eyes against the seething darkness that had all too recently made itself known in the folds of her mind. she had left home in search of answers ; only after the death of her father had she forced gertrude to tell her EVERYTHING. all she had known to be true was a lie. the shameful word squib crossed out and replaced with one even more horrifying.

 obscurial.

hidden, far-flung DENMARK was deeply rooted in the old ways------old understandings, myths, & traditions. there, darkness was expected, inherent to the harsh landscape. it was in their blood and bones. yet sheltered, repressed ophelia, brought up in a world of light and lies, knew very little of this dark side of magic, only to find it was deeper ingrained into her than most. once she felt that first spark of harsh, screaming blackness in her brain, she wondered how she could have gone all of these years ignorant to its existence.

she could not stay there, amongst the snow and ghosts. she needed answers. and so she had followed her prince to england, only to flee at the first opportunity. wandering the streets of london, ophelia felt a sense of freedom she had never known before. even with the death sentence singeing her veins, she could not help the secret smile that curled the corners of her mouth.

once more, she looked down at the card, stolen from her father’s desk. THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK, it read. one of their oldest allies ; distantly related, as most pureblood families were. she had arranged a meeting with their youngest heir. surely he would give her the answers she so desperately needed. ( and if he refused, well, she now had her ways ).