#prison tw

angelo was born into a family that had high expectations of him, ones that he didn't live up to. by the time he was a teenager, angelo had gained a bit of a reputation, his stubbornness and tendency to act before he thought things through getting the best of him. after high school, his parents kicked him out and refused to support their “delinquent son” who had shamed them.

at eighteen, angelo moved to connecticut. it wasn’t long before he got into the wrong crowd there, drinking and partying like there was no tomorrow. because to him, there wasn’t.

one night when he and a few friends were leaving a club, angelo got behind the wheel. they were all intoxicated, but he thought he was okay to drive. they were almost home when he lost control of the car, crashing into a nearby tree. one of the passengers died, and the others were injured. angelo walked away without a scratch, but his luck ended there

he was quickly arrested for drunk driving and later charged with first degree homicide by vehicle. despite it being his first offense, he was given a twenty year sentence, which he served in full. he was released about a year ago and has been living in town ever since.

[PRESENT DAY]

[TEXT] (DAISY): Here’s the info. She’s in cunch and she’s got a nokia so the phone signal might be a bit shit. I set her up on gmail though, might be easier to reach her there. My gran’s got a laptop.

[FLASHBACK #1]

(CHRIS): I know it's shit but you gotta be strong Max. I’ll be out of here before you know it.

[PRESENT DAY] [EMAIL]

Hi, I’m Max, Chris’ daughter. Your niece Daisy is a friend of mine and said it would be better to email you. I’d really love to meet and I’m glad to hear that you are too|

[FLASHBACK #2]

(MAX): Did I do something wrong?

(SIMONE): Of course not Max! Your mum is just- She loves you so much. It’s killing her not being able to be with you all the time, and every time we visit it just reminds her of um. Of what she’s lost, you know?

[PRESENT DAY][EMAIL]

Hi, I’m Maxine, but I go by Max. My pronouns are They/Them Hope that’s not too confusing for you! I’m Chris’ daughter. Your niece Daisy kindly gave me your info and said it would be better to email you. I’m glad to hear that you’re up for meeting as it’d be great to hear about my mum from you. Unfortunately, before her passing I hadn’t seen her in quite a long time|

[FLASHBACK #3]

(MAX): [Sobbing loudly]

(SIMONE): [Emotional] I’m so sorry sweetheart. Let it out.

[PRESENT DAY]

BASICS

Name:  Chester Kowalski.

Age: 32

Species: Necromancer Witch. Not that you’d know.

Powers: Chester’s power is something they see more as a problem. He’s a walking ouija board, a door between the dead and the living – at any point, they can simply take over his body without the need for permission. They are able to see and generally interact with ghosts to. Apart from that, he possesses similar magic and abilities to other witches of his type and general species.

Deity: N/A. Chester knows there are gods out there, has felt their power and has ultimately been left disillusioned by their silence.

Gender, Pronouns, Sexual & Romantic identities: Non-Binary, He/They, Pansexual & Panromantic.

Residence / Years: 5 years.

Affiliation / Years: None, potential to change. 

Job / Workplace: Bartender @ Danse Macabre

Relationship status: Single

Positive traits: Compassionate, Encouraging, Funny

Negative traits: Erratic, Selfish, Indulgent

BIO

TW: Child neglect, drugs / drug addiction, death, cults, prison,

What do you do when the people who are supposed to protect you don’t? When others coo and kiss their sweet babes in the pram, what happens to those not given shunned and told to shut up? A broken home is something many are familiar with, and Chester Kowalski is one of them. Stained mattresses and a hungry belly are their earliest memories, of trying to reach a breadbin and tugging on mother’s limp arm for something, anything. Growing into a toddler, more came along, brother and sister who needed looking after, and the tender child tried. Tried. Isn’t it strange how some children just fly under the radar? A whole neighborhood of people, systems designed to protect yet the Kowalski trio fell through the net. His miserable early existence was ended rather abruptly at 10 - all the magic running through the Kowalski bloodline couldn’t stop a pair of addicts perishing in a meth lab explosion, nor could it stop the subsequent splitting up of the siblings. Chester simply smiled and waved goodbye, so sure that after the car ride he’d be seeing them again.

They never did.

Fostering never seemed to work out for Chester. There was always bad behaviour, expected in a child such as them but, there was something else to. Little quirks that had them labelled odd by those that took them in - talking to thin air, drawings of people in the house, a small collection of bleached bones in a shoebox under the bed. It was excused at first, some form of trauma response, then acting out, furthered down to attention seeking. Family after family couldn’t deal with it all, and thus Chester was simply bounced around a system that they would eventually age out of. Without any major prospects, dead-end jobs were looking like they’d rule Chester’s life…unless. 24-hour gas stations had their fair share of dodgy clientele, and soon they were making money the way their parents had, by selling bags of white powder and pills to the desperate and depressed. It was a good living for a few years, till a few of them got caught. Someone smashed the getaway car, and when Chester opened his eyes he was blinded by white hospital walls, unable to move for the handcuff on the gurney.

When you’re 20, a minimum prison sentence of 6 years is a long, long time. You’re practically 30 by the time you get out, that’s what Chester chewed over as they pleaded guilty to possession charges on a stand with a disinterested judge and people’s attorney bringing up all the difficulty of the past, of a turbulent childhood and how such a young life had time to turn it around. Prison was prison, 6 years shortened to 4 on account of good behaviour. It wasn’t terrible, one day a gruff voice informed Kowalski of a phone call. A woman on the other end, voice hesitant with hope that this was her sibling. Another Kowalski, 1 of 3, desperately wanted this to be the eldest of them. The warm flower of hope bloomed within Chester, and they sobbed the moment she came to visit. It had been hard, following records, tracking locations till finally some article came up with a photo of someone she’d vaguely recognized, as if she’d seen in a dream.

They stayed in-touch, and once the stint was over, Chester was released and immediately sought to live with her. Many revelations were had between them - mainly the one that the things that haunted the corner of Chester’s eyes, the not-quite-people that spoke softly of their plights weren’t in fact hallucinations. The two of them were witches, and for some reason had a particular calling to the dead and deceased. The coven she was part of opened Chester with open arms, teaching them how to harness such abilities in aid of their goal, to heal the world. Whatever oddness may have been about the group, their blinding kindness, a mask for something more nefarious was lost on someone who hadn’t ever belonged, nor fit anywhere before. It was their 27th year, blessed Samhain, when the veil between our world and the one beyond was thinnest when Chester was drugged at lunch and dragged upon a stone altar within the woods. Are all coven’s cults? No but, this one was, something Chester didn’t realize until too late. Thankfully, they were too high to really feel the blade slicing thickly into flesh, being carved into a door to allow a god through. To heal the world through destruction, then rebirth. Chester awoke in a clearing, covered in gore, unsure of what truly happened. Where was their sister? What the fuck had gone on? The symbols glowed red-hot on their skin, a permanent mark of what he now was. A door to somewhere else.

Ending up in New Orleans was simply a fluke, the witch trying to keep their head down and start fresh…however hard that may be.

OTHER

they have no idea if their sister is alive or not. they haven't tried to search for her out of fear and have accepted that she's dead. (spoiler: she isn't).

attends karaoke night every thursday and wins the bar tab. you simply can't beat his one person rendition of islands in the stream.

literally doesn't perform magic as now has the association of magic = bad.

good old fashioned loverboy (town bike).

cares a lot about clothes and presentation, thrifts a lot of stuff, lots of vintage / 70s inspired pieces.

learned portraiture while in prison, something they have a genuine talent for.

sleeping pills for the night times. no pills? rave till 7am, then keep going.

goes hog wild at mardi gras.

often seen 'talking' to themselves - it's usually the ghosts they can see, have quite a good rapport with some of them.

sometimes gets possessed but its all cash money except when it isn't. has been contacted privately by a few people regarding using this power to further agendas or help solve problems.

strong desire to be loved and be part of a community.

performs menial tasks for spirits that need help 'moving on'.