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* I.   / RONAN

       The evening gala was beautifully decorated, even if she did feel slighted to not be included within the event planning - but she put that down to her being a participating guest. Still, as she swirled the champagne in her glass, her black evening gown flowing over the floor like spilt ink, she took in the myriad of spells which accompanied the different species. She imagined that to others she likely smelt of iron, death and her favourite Chanel perfume. But that was the problem with having too many in one room, it clouded the senses. 

“ Quite the turnout, ” she uttered softly to the closest body, a weyrwolf from what she could smell. “ Not that I’m surprised, ” Céline smirked, arms folded neatly over her chest. She lifted her fluted glass to her lips, eyes drifting over the man with little subtlety. Perhaps, it was the thought of having a soulmate that reminded her so much of her Queen Marie, which made her want to party like she was still in Versailles and unabashedly flirt with everyone. Remind of the good old days when there was nothing but the wants and needs of Marie Antoinette and her best friend, Céline de Polastron, Duchesse de Polignac

“ You look good enough to eat. What’s your name, handsome? ”

@ofdarkscars

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* ii.   / circe 

       In the years following her death, her world had felt hollow. The purest love in her life had not been romantic, but instead something far deeper, she felt as though her soul was tethered to another, her beloved Marie Antoinette. Her soul sister. It was not the news of her husband’s departure from the world that tore her apart, but that of her dearest friend and Queen. That woman had changed her life, inspired and excited her, they shared secrets and stories, things which she swore she would never tell anyone. And the hardest part about living forever was knowing that she would never feel completely whole again, and so she manipulated the minds of others so that she could cast herself back to the happiest time in the life, and her victims would experience the indulgence of the French court. 

She had not wanted to believe in soulmates, for she had already lost her own. But the promise of not feeling completely empty was enough to lure her to the Harvest Festival. And the events which transpired were most unexpected. She had dressed in the customary robes, a far cry from her usual white attire and waited with bated breath. Her cherry red lips had formed an ‘o’ when her soulmate was chosen. Highly ironic, considering the excitement which she had gained from the girl’s own ancestor, Talia.

The blonde walked over confidently, eyes scanning the crowd for Circe. “ This is most unexpected, ” she admits softly, the French lilt of her voice more prominent, when she reaches the wytch. 

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hey there, doves!!  i’m gonna press pause on my current threads while the event is going on, but i’ll definitely pick them back up afterwards ❤️️if you want a personalised starter from this sweet, totally innocent and not at all bloodhungry or dramatic vaympire, like this post 👉

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shvdowblood‌:

Circe’s home had been too crowded. It was always too crowded, with three core women and countless other ancestors coming and going, Circe rarely found a second for herself and when she did, there were still unpleasant noises and voices in the background. Never ending. Heavy on her mind. It was as if all of them were scolding her, even when they were saying nothing like it at all. It was a haunting feeling and Circe wanted to get rid of it all. 

That’s why the shadow blooded wytch was found at a restaurant, the next town over from the one she called home. If she could go somewhere further away from her house, then she would. The problem would be having the patience to get back without feeling too lazy to do so. 

Then, her me time was interrupted. It was sudden, surprising. The last thing she expected was someone to ask if their company would be welcome — in more or less those words — since Circe prided herself in looking unapproachable when she wanted to. And, at that moment, it was the only thing she craved. “Not at all. Better you than some old guy with dirty fantasies, right?” Circe didn’t trust anyone but between having the company of a feminine stranger or a man, then she would rather go with the former, any day of the year. 

“Please, go ahead.”

      For a moment she did not recognise the wytch, but the memories of partying in the 1920s soon flooded back to her, as she recalled the wild nights spent with Talia. She bent forwards, elbows pressed against the sturdy wooden table as she smirked at the sable-haired woman. It had been some time since their paths had last crossed, but she felt a spark of intrigue.  ❛ Oh, Talia, you know they’re my favourite kind, ❜ she responded with a wink, before taking a quick glance around the room at the a-typical old guy. 

Her index finger was lifted and then subtly pointed at a balding guy dressed in far too much tweed.  ❛  He is no different to the lonely creeps that hit on us in the 20s. Only, they were fun to play with back then...back when twisting their illusions was far more shocking than it is these days. I dare say that guy over there would get off on it.  ❜ She didn’t like it when her prey was fearless, sure they’d have fun, but in that last second before death, she wanted them to be flooded with crippling fear.  ❛ Pissed off any vaymps, lately? ❜

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BAR: PARDON MY FRENCH

location: deadwood owner: céline morell bar manager: open bar staff: open details:  

When Céline Morell moved to Deadwood, she felt as though it lacked the opulence and excitement that she was accustomed to. She decided to dip into her fortune and purchase a derelict building, and soon revamped it into a French inspired bar which has Dom Perignon by the bottle, and oysters on ice. There is a constant supply of blood for the vaymps, and even a select menu for exciting mixers. It’s high-brow, classy and also very expensive. It’s open until the early hours of the morning, and it’s inital opening was highly coveted. ‘Pardon My French’ has only been open for less than a month, but it’s already thriving.  Céline does not handle the day to day management considering she has her own event planning business to deal with, but she's hired a selection of capable staff to ensure the place thrives. She’s sure to turn up in the evening dressed in a designer frock, requesting the finest red on offer. 

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savantwolf·:

He watches her saunter around, pulls his hand back to put in a pocket. Was it actually possible to run into three vampires in one day like this? Sure, they were attracted to danger or whatever, but honestly. He’d preferred avoiding them whenever possible. 

“Yeah, just opened up shop.” He followed her actions with his eyes, raising one eyebrow with a scowl.  There it was. The V word. The urge to curl his lips, to reach out and put her through the plate glass window surged and then faded. Three strikes and he was less than amused. Should have stayed out in the cabin. Today was going downhill faster than he’d seen coming. 

“What do you want?” He asked, voice flat and almost sharp, aggravation shining through his eyes. “Or were you just here to gloat?”

      With a cluck of her tongue, Céline mulled over his words. Unlike so many, she did not despise a person simply because they were a different creature to her. But she did find the population to be wholly underwhelming and unexciting. Over the years the world had lost something, a spark of magic and life that made the days seem more inviting. The modern world was grey skyscrapers, business calls and autonomous living. Nothing like the land that she had grown up in. 

  ❛  You’re off to a difficult start then...  ❜  she commented, likely rubbing salt into the wound. She was, of course, referring the vandalism. Open such a short time and already in need of repair, it was certainly rotten luck. 

❛  Someone’s a little prickly today! ❜

There was no great purpose for her being in his store, he had nothing that she wanted and it was only by chance that she witnessed the crime.  But she rather liked the chaos of it all. She wondered if the teenage boys felt a thrill in watching the glass shatter and if it would give her the same relief. Some cultures broke all the crockery in the house to reign in the new years, so it wasn’t completely outlandish. 

❛  Perhaps, I came here to buy something? Or maybe I wished to speak with you? ❜

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  THE DUCHESS   CÉLINE MORELL ( CÉLINE DE POLASTRON )

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BASICS!

name: céline morell ( céline de polastron, duchesse de polignac )

age: 27 ( 229 )

birthplace: paris, france

species: vaympire 

abilities: memory manipulation, illusion manipulation 

TDLR; + SUMMARY!

SIRED FROM THE INDULGENCE OF FRANCE,  céline grew spoiled and gluttonous, everything was a craving to her. from the delicate french cream pastries to the finest champagne that marie antoinette demanded for all their parties, and then flirtatious looks of visiting nobility. the french court was known for it perversions, and she was at the heart of it, as marie’s best friend. it was party sentimentality and then something else, that made céline bid on her friend’s blue diamond engagement ring centuries after her death - her very own daylight ring, that glittered with the glamour of its wearer.

IT WAS A RUSSIAN VISITOR THAT TURNED HER HEAD, andrei rostov was sinful and gave céline something she’d never experience before - blood. he drank from her neck and in return gave her his wrist, it was a whirlwind romance of sex and blood that would ultimately result in her immortality. when she fled court on the queen’s orders after bastille day, and returned to her chateau to collect her things, her body was still full of vaympire blood when the bandits beat her to death. when she woke to find them all dining at her hand-crafted dining table, she slaughtered them all and burned down the house. 

IN THE YEARS THAT FOLLOWED HER RESURRECTION,  céline only grew more self-indulged and spoiled. when the titanic was sinking, she ran into the rooms of the upperclass and stole their diamonds, and when it sunk and bodies froze, she floated and waited for the lifeboats. when she got aboard,  céline played the shivering victim even if her coat pockets were full of the riches of others. during the modern era, she resided on the upper east side and married a billionaire, who would mysteriously die 3 years later - time was nothing to her, and she needed to be perceived as a loving wife. when she heard of others fleeing to south dakota,  céline purchased several acres of land so that she could build a home worthy of a queen. 

WANTED!

PLOTS  ── darkness, blood, sex. period au ( via la france ), any and all tbh. 

CONNECTIONS  ── ( lovers/friends/enemies/frenemies)

I. ( open to male vaympire )

They’re both monsters, thriving on bloodshed and passion. Beyond the most sinful cravings, there is nothing to them. Céline does not care for them, but it’s something which provides a measure of excitement. It’s a dark craving, one that she enjoys immensely. It’s toxic, likely to erupt and I feel that there is an inevitability of destruction, where they turn on one another.  

II. ( open )

She was not the first or the last to be sired by the Russian vampire Andrei Rostov, who was centuries older than her. Eventually, she betrayed him and left him to the pitch forks and flames. It would be interesting for another vaympire to be from the same sire, but they would need to be older than her. Since her transition Céline has not attempted to make friends, and she would not be warm or welcoming to someone claiming to have the same sire - maybe they feel angered that she killed Andrei?

III. ( open )

There is that one person, a mortal, whose spirit reminds her Marie. It’s the first human that she hasn’t detested in a very long time, and it almost makes her feel human. There’s a comfort to their presence, that makes her think of the beautiful friendship she had with the French queen. She would not lay down her life for them, or even call them a friend, but she cannot deny the spark of happiness that their presence provides.

IV. ( taken )

She killed someone close to this muse, a partner/family member/ friend, perhaps they’re thankful or maybe they loathe her. I think it would be interesting to explore that avenue.

V. ( open )

A young vaympire that she accidentally sired. She considers them more a nuisance than a protegee. She’s half tempted to decapitate them in all honesty. 

vi. ( open ) 

This person would be her assistant at ‘Every Last Detail’. The job provides good pay and the insurance that you’re bound to have a good time at the parties, plus there are benefits. However, she can be prickly from time to time. But she is rather charming and has decided that she cant kill the help, so it would probably be one of her more sane connections.

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Max Irons and Margot Robbie in Terminal (2018)

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SEND ME A SYMBOL !!

Add a ‘ +’ to reverse it !!

😘 - to kiss my muse.

😉 - to send a seductive wink at my muse.

😡 - to anger my muse.

😈 - to prank my muse.

✋ - to push my muse against a wall.

🖕🏻 - to flip my muse off.

🙆🏻 - to give my muse a hug.

👛 - to steal my muse’s belongings.

🐶 - to give my muse a pet.

🥂 - to offer my muse a drink.

🎧 - to place headphones on my muse’s head.

🚑 - to visit my muse at the hospital.

🔪 - to stab my muse.

💕 - to make love to my muse.

💍 - to propose to my muse.

👓 - to steal my muse’s glasses.

👻 - to scare my muse.

☠️ - to die in front of my muse.

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killedmemory‌:

         LIENA DID MUCH OF HER WORK BEHIND CLOSED DOORS  and in the confines of her home. it was safer and smarter that way. because the syren is currently striving towards closing a deal for her father ( bringing over trucks supplied with fresh blood packets for their nightclubs on a good deal by a potential business partner. —- - what this partner didn’t know was that liena has a side job: hijack the trucks with her own people and unload entire shipments of stolen goods. this would force the partner’s hand in sending out a new shipment on an even better deal, with thrice the supplies. liena would then offer, for a price, “protection” for this partner from criminals who might try to go after more shipments in the future or hurt their family – the implication being that the sayo members themselves are these criminals. ), despite having done this before there was always something that could go sideways. she was good in taking precautions. it was because she couldn’t trust anyone else.

although her sight was fixed on the papers and thin apple tablet before her, liena could sense a presence as they come closer. she feels her muscles instantly tense, and the syren begins to casually bring her papers together, slip them in a black folder and shut off the tablet.

mind if i sit here? you looked like you were in need of some company.

a sharp prickle of annoyance is felt within the cavity of her chest. a nuisance is defined as a person or thing that causes annoyance or inconvenience. in this case, liena’s nuisance of the day was the blonde that had strolled over to her while she attempted to complete some work. it had been tempting to force the woman to leave her alone.

dark orbs narrowed as she looks up at the woman, and she gives a nod of her head. “i do.” liena takes a slow sip of her dirty martini, then cocked her head to the side, lips wiped of the civil smile to be replaced with a smirk. “are you sure you’re here because of me and not the boredom you felt after interacting with the mortal?” liena has been on this earth long enough to sense another immortal. she also assumes it was boredom the blonde feels with human because, well, that’s how she generally feels about them as a species.

     The soft and serene appearance of the vaympire was purposeful, the pristine white dress a stark contrast to the ruby-toned cabernet that swirled in her wine glass. The woman sat in front of her, whom she’d clearly disturbed, looked as though she had been working hard, head bent over a group of papers and a smart tablet. The stranger's dissatisfaction was evident, even before it was voiced. Céline simply pulled a face and took a long sip of the wine, tasting the different notes and underlining flavours that somebody with a far less complex pallet could not comprehend. 

❛  Shame, ❜ she sighed, reclining back int the chair slightly. Considering the life of luxury that she had grown accustomed to since her birth, the Smokegrill fell short of her standards. But there were few options in Deadwood. Since arriving, the honey-haired vaympire had been more than considering opening a high-class cocktail bar - but she wondered if there was in the godforsaken town worthy of the calibre she would provide. 

She considered the woman’s words while trying to determine what species the immortal woman was. 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. 

❛  You mean to say, would I actively seek out a Syren?  ❜   Each species had their own marker, a scent that as a vaympire she could easily determine. Be if the scent of a dog, or the smell of the ocean, or the mouth-watering ambrosia of human blood.  ❛  Maybe... ❜

She glanced back over at the bartender, whose existence was inconsequential as a bug squashed beneath her Dior stilettos.  

 ❛  There is little excitement to be found in mortals, they provide stories that I’ve heard a thousand times over, their ideas are quaint and they understand so very little of the world. ❜

[dcvilsoul-blog]

cost: $$$$+ owner: céline morell  assistant: open details:  

Céline has always known how to throw a good party. From the frivolity of French court to the roaring twenties and everything after that, she learned a thing or two about style. It was a natural step for her to continue planning events, since she had always been so good at it – it may not have been for a royal court anymore, but she earned a good living off it ( not that she needed the extra dollars ). When anybody wished to be frugal, she convinced them otherwise and suddenly every outlandish idea she suggested was agreed to, and the most lavish and envy evoking evenings were crafted. She designed business events to weddings, a spoiled daughter’s birthday to the newly arisen style of divorce parties. Everybody wanted Céline Morell. And she charged a high price for the priveledge. 

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MORTAL LIFE: Céline de Polastron, Duchess of Polignac

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location: smokehouse time: mid-afternoon availability: open to all  

     On the polished oak bartop that smelt of spilt beer and disinfectant, her crimson nails had been carelessly cutting into the brittle material. Splinters could not pierce her flesh, and there was little resistance beneath her fierce touch - it was pitiful just how breakable things were.  ❛  Do you mind?  ❜  the bartender barked at her, noticing the mess that she’d made on the countertop. When she flashed her pearly white teeth at him, her fangs were nowhere in sight. He was a quintessential town-boy, someone who had grown up in Deadwood and who would never leave. There was probably a point in his teenage years when he longed to travel, maybe he had big city dreams - but money was tight, or a relative died and so too did that dream.    ❛ I’m sure I can make it up to you later. Care to pour me another drink?  ❜  

Anytime that Céline gave a man the best night of his life, she’d collect his head in the morning. She was like that dark poem she’d once read, Salome. 

In the mirror, I saw my eyes glitter. I flung back the sticky red sheets, and there, like I said – and ain’t life a bitch – was his head on a platter.

She offered the bartender a wink when another glass of red was pushed in front of her, while a dozen messages from needy clients buzzed on her phone. She switched it to silent. It was a Sunday and they could fuck off.  ❛  I’ll be back, ❜  she promised the bartender, and then slipped from the high-stool with old-elegance. She was still a Duchess, after all. 

Her stormy irises flitted over the patrons, some in sets of families, while others dined alone. Céline spotted a vacant space in a corner booth, only one seat taken up by a solitary figure.  ❛ Mind if I sit here? You looked like you were in need of some company. ❜