a shark's got to eat;

VIKTOR RUMAN at the DIEASANCTO MASQUARADE BALL.

She was still considered young, and by all accounts Annora was at barely more than half a millennium old. But, in the past six-hundreded and some odd years that have gone by in practically the time it had taken to take a breath, she’s seen so much more than she could have imagined: the rise and fall of empires, the devastation humanity could deliver to one another, and of course its kindnesses. To her, anyone less than a century old still had yet to open their eyes, and if she’s learned anything in her life it is that it is possible for those even older than she to be redeemed.

Hope is a fickle thing, quite like love and trust. But, it still lives in her soul, and as such, she unflinchingly turns her gaze towards someone that other beings have bowed to. Annora’s petite frame holds the same proper posture it always has— certainly something they don’t teach anymore either.

“Lie if you want,” She easily responds. “I’ll still point to my favourites as a recommendation to visit.” Her gaze flits to the image of the Palais Garnier first with a nod, then she delicately places one foot over the other, crossing ankles before she pivots lightly to nod towards the printed photograph of the Mariinsky Theatre. Gilded things, glittering and beautiful and enduring— none of that minimalism that seems to have caught on. No, she isn’t a fan of that at all, and perhaps that is why she’s never done away with golden curls in favour of whatever that big-haired blow out fad was in the 90′s. Finally, her eyes find Viktor again.

If he sounds British, she wonders what others hear in her voice. French? It would make sense, Annora had spent most of her lifetime there. But, it’s been marred by her time in Italy, and her beginnings were born from the bloodbath of Britain’s line of succession. “I prefer letters. And, I thought you were too busy a man to miss anyone, let alone myself.” She doesn’t warm his bed, nor does she seek his favour. “But,” The faint curve of her lips finally graces him with a smile, rosy moue parting to reveal a bright set of teeth. No fangs, no sharpened edges, yet powerful all the same. “I suppose I should be flattered you’d even say so. Maybe I shouldn’t be so scarce here in Seattle.” Her gaze measures him, drinks him in only interrupted by a blink. “I would, however, like to hear how you’ve been.” She’s curious all the same. Always has been.

What she said was indeed true, there was no denying it - he was, in fact, often too busy to miss anyone but himself.  But she, an angel, was an exception of sorts. What other ballerina could he find to dance for him? To exist for his high of feasting upon the sweetest perfection that was her existence, to allow him savor it on his tongue. Just like that, he posed a threat to this clean part of her that she desperately wanted to keep. Fate was a nasty little twist the moment she had entered his life and he had infected hers. 

“Old-fashion, as expected,” his voice was raw, wrapping her in his cruel, loving embrace as he tried to charm his way closer to her. “But why letters in this day and age when you can dial my number and touch yourself to my voice at night?” Filth dripped from his words, provocative. He was testing her, tracking her reaction to meet her curious eyes, just before he had the pleasure of answering her lingering question. 

date: TBD time: evening location: foster/white gallery status: closed, for @viktorruman

There is a flute of champagne in one hand, cold stem warming at her touch as she rolls it between her fingertips. Why she accepted the invitation to attend the exhibition opening tonight was an answer that eluded her. Maybe it was because she wanted a break, or she didn’t want to crack open a bottle of champagne herself— maybe she preferred being around people than being in her Penthouse or teleporting herself somewhere else in the world. Or, perhaps it is like this: there is a simple joy to be found at attending these sort of little events in spite of the tense climate of the city. And though she isn’t much a fan of the work in the spotlight tonight, she likes the company, and staring absentmindedly at the photograph in front of her Annora cannot help but let a small smile of remembrance curve at the corners of her mouth. David Leventi’s work has made her miss the theatres of Europe. Perhaps she would visit soon.

“It’s a shame he hadn’t photographed the palazzo on a better day. You lose the opportunity to show if off the way he has the threatres,” She comments loftily, hearing footsteps approach as her gaze remains on the photo. The blonde doesn’t turn her head until she let her tongue loose to her question, remaining poised and collected.  “Although it makes me want to take on a new project. Have you visited any of the theatres recently?”

— 

She was a beautiful creature, blending all too well with the artworks of the gallery. A Guardian Angel. Who could’ve known. Viktor Ruman raised the champagne glass to his lips, tasting the thought of her. She had him wiggling inside her head and crawling around like a parasite because she thought there was hope for someone who bathed in sin. A few meetings here and there, and she still didn’t get it.  There was truly nothing to be found, for he was a humanized monster - in every interpretation of the word. 

He did not think twice before approaching perhaps the most interesting guest to attend this exhibition. Questions. Always questions with her, bringing a smile to his face. “Take a guess, Annora,” he paused, no longer staring at the painting. His eyes were trained on her face, studying her as intently as she studied the photograph. Oh, to analyze one of the most confounding beings. “Or should I lie and say yes so I can be in your good books?”

Meet VIKTOR RUMAN.

"But I do bite."

AGE: Appearing 40 (1. August)

PRONOUNS: He/Him

FC: David Gandy

SPECIES: LYCANTHROPE (Werewolf)

RESIDENCE: Downtown Seattle

OCCUPATION: 

GODFATHER / BUSINESS OWNER. Viktor Ruman has diversified holdings all over Seattle and perhaps even other states - mostly real estate and a chain of boutique hotels. Taking his mother’s throne, he is a big player in the dark economy, partaking in drug trafficking as a proud distributor of cocaine and… something like catnip for werewolves. Fortunately, the cartel cannot be traced to him as he lives his perfectly ordinary life in Seattle. 

WHAT HAPPENED THEN:

Viktor Ruman was born to a British family with a lot of money and little love. His mother was a fearless businesswoman and an Alpha, while his father was a regular lycanthrope working as a corporate lawyer. Both gave him and his sister the pure werewolf gene, with him being the next to take the throne. His parents hopped from one destination to another until his mother laid her eyes upon Seattle. It had taken her decades to build her drug-trafficking empire, with her husband supporting her every step and having the pleasure of covering her tracks. Seeing promise in the US., she had made it her mission to become the strongest player in Seattle - with products as clean as no other.

In the meantime, Viktor was growing up to be the perfect son. He was always proper, with perfect grades, good relationships, and outstanding potential in werewolf-specific training. A role model for his sister and a dream boyfriend for his classmates. But it was only during his first university year that his parents began to ease him into the business. 

With power came a rabid hunger for more. He soon started to forget how normal people lived and indulged in his vices with the mentality that money could buy and give him anything. Piece by piece, his humanity was fading; he could no longer have friends without treating them like filth. He even began disrespecting his father for being the genetically weaker parent. 

By the time he graduated with a dual-degree in Politics and Business Administration, his parents allowed him to overtake the business. He simultaneously started to invest in other businesses to keep the dark side of it behind the curtains.

Like tree roots, his underground empire has since been prospering. 

THE STATE OF NOW:

Nowadays, Viktor Ruman is known for his elegant violence in the cartel world. One may say, he has his toes dipped in all seven seas - with eyes and ears all over Seattle and corruption following him like a shadow. 

To the public, he is known as the owner of a reputable design hotel chain, the A-ROSE Hotel.  

His sister moved back to London, UK, to pursue her career as a doctor. He sends her money every other month and pays for her rent, but, aware of what he’s up to, she feels guilty for accepting it. 

His parents live in a villa in the Caribbean, retired.  

There are rumors that he used to have a fiancee who fell out of love and moved away.

MISCELLANEOUS INFO.:

Other lycans may in fact sense that he is an Alpha. 

He currently lives in a penthouse in Downtown Seattle. 

He enjoys traveling to Europe. He’d visit England more often, but his sister doesn’t want to be seen with him.

Has a lot of scars on his back which is why he never undresses with his back facing the partner. The scars normally go unnoticed.

His bestial form looks like a larger, mutated wolf. He can shift partially without a full moon (e.g. grow large, sharp teeth and claws).

Height: 6’3 ft (191 cm).

INTRODUCE YOURSELF.

My name is Dominic (he/him, but they/them works just as fine), 23, and I am an amateur writer from Germany (GMT+1). Gemini. I run on 0.5 brain cell even-though I roleplay cunning characters (legit faking it until I’m making it). A video segment to describe me? Boom. (0:30) 

English is not my first language so forgive me if what I write sounds strange. I mainly enjoy writing darker characters, ones that take a while to decipher and are mostly a danger to be around. I also have a cat. His name means Emperor in German because that’s how things are when you have a cat. 

AS A WRITING PARTNER.

Although I’m still relatively new to roleplaying on Tumblr, I would definitely consider myself a laid-back, flexible partner. I do get quite excited about plotting, so please do not hesitate to leave me a message. I also love just talking about characters and their potential connections in general, so I’m always open to chat while roleplaying.  

WHO IS YOUR CHARACTER?

Viktor Ruman, a Lycanthrope, appears 40 years of age but has walked the Earth for far longer. Alpha of his kind. Business owner and Godfather. Born in G. Britain but lives in Downtown Seattle where the core of his underground business lies. He can be vulgar, cocky, despicable. Or so devilishly charismatic, it pisses you off. Even his flirtation can’t make up for the lack of heart. He often plays pretend, taking the role of an approachable, sympathetic, and simple-minded businessman. Underneath his facade lies a ruthless, hungry beast - a threat that can eat you at any time but chooses to toy with you first. 

PLOT IDEAS / WANTED DYNAMICS.

For Viktor, I seek connections that have depth. Darker. Manipulative. Antagonistic, platonic, or romantic. Doesn’t matter if it’s him corrupting someone or being challenged by a foe just as deceiving. Power play is appreciated, for another person’s disobedience is this man’s entertainment. 

(Wanted connections page coming soon.)

IN THE PRESENT.

When he exits the dark Rolls Royce, Viktor Ruman is a figure of power without a single word needed, dressed in the aristocratic work of a profound tailor. A charismatic smile flits around his lips. He enjoys visiting his hotels, flirting with the receptionists, and making sure everything is functioning like clockwork behind the scenes. He can spend hours in the office he had built for himself at the main A-ROSE hotel, busying himself undisturbed with other duties and answering calls concerning filthier subjects. The evenings are usually spent at restaurants to excuse his inability to cook. Some weekends are spent abroad, allowing him to forget the sense of loneliness that occasionally crawls upon him, while others are spent at home. 

INSPIRATIONS.