#beatrice viano

[juliandev0rak]

i realized i’ve never properly posted about Beatrice’s face claim, so in honor of her birthday here’s a little fc reveal!

it took me forever to settle on one, but i finally decided on Jenna Coleman who has perfect Beatrice vibes (especially in her role as Queen Victoria)

bonus photos: (bc she’s too pretty and i couldn’t stop choosing pictures)

[nvvermore]

“I want you, Amie.”

this scene from @juliandev0rak’s beamie fic has been living rent free in my mind for days, so ofc i had to

[evarcana]

i would love to see a moodboard for beatrice (or any of my ocs!) if you feel like it 💗 also that lamb picture was so so cute 🐑🥺 -juliandev0rak

Beatrice

Sorry, I couldn’t decide. I hope you like at least one of them! 🤎and thank you!

@juliandev0rak

[leechobsessed]

Book Club

A look back in time to see why Ella, Beatrice and Leila weren’t regularly invited to social functions. 

characters: Ella Sagen, Beatrice Viano (of @juliandev0rak) and Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) pairing: beaellaleila words: 2.2k warnings: swearing, sneaky use of alcohol

notes: this fic takes place before the events of the game and was inspired by a very specific tea cup that Leila owns, referenced in this fic

“We’re doing what?” Beatrice half-whines, half-exclaims, literally dragging her feet as Leila pulls her toward the door.

“We’re going to a book club,” Ella repeats, sighing. She and Leila had, unbeknownst to Beatrice, enrolled them in a group that reads and discusses books in an attempt to expand their social circle.

“I haven’t even read the book!” Beatrice protests, yanking her hands from Leila to fold them across her chest. “Isn’t that the only prerequisite for such a club?”

“Did you read that book I lent you last week? That one romance novel?” Leila asks, mirroring her friend's stance. Beatrice nods slowly. “Then you read the book.”

“You— you… tricked me into reading a book?”

“Yes and no. Trick is a bad word for it, seeing as no one has ever needed to work very hard to convince you to read something.” Ella sighs again. “Come on, Beatrice, it’ll be fun. You have a very keen literary eye, and it will be a good chance to meet people.”

“Who came up with this idea anyway?”

“Me?” Leila shrugs. “Maybe your aunt? Or maybe Ella? Hard to say, it became a bit of a team effort.”

The hazel-eyed magician purses her lips at her two friends, who have come to stand next to each other, smushing their cheeks together and batting their eyelashes at her.

“Pleaaassee?” they whine in unison, which makes Beatrice laugh.

“Fine!” She huffs, grabbing her cloak from the back of her kitchen chair. She disappears into her bedroom and emerges a moment later, clutching the book Leila had given her the week prior. “It wasn’t even that good of a novel.”

“I didn’t think it was terrible,” Ella offers, but is quieted by Leila’s finger pressed to her lips.

“Hey! The whole point of this is to discuss the book with others!”

“Isn’t that what I was just doing?” Ella asks, her voice muffled from the finger against her mouth.

“Don’t get smart with me, Ellanora. We’ll be late to our own party if we don’t hurry up.”

The three women exit Beatrice’s home and wait patiently for her to lock up, then immediately lock arms and start down the street.

“Where are we going?” Beatrice asks, adjusting the book under her arm.

“To my place,” Leila answers.

“What about Leda?”

“She’s at my house,” Ella responds. “Your aunt Cora should be heading over there soon for their own version of a girls night.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “Was everyone in on this aside from me?”

“Pretty much,” Ella laughs, giving her a kiss on the top of the head. “Don’t worry. This will be fun,” she says again, though Beatrice remains less than convinced.

At Leila’s home, Beatrice and Ella hurry up the stairs to the living area and begin to pull couches and chairs around a tea table, while Leila starts a pot of tea in the kitchen.

“How many people are you expecting?” Beatrice asks, frowning at the number of chairs they’ve gathered. “And who exactly are they?”

“Four?” Leila says, though it’s more of a question and she peeks out of the kitchen at Ella for confirmation. Ella nods, even though her back is to her friend. “Four.”

Leila retreats into the kitchen to put some cakes on a serving dish, and Ella takes a seat on the couch and explains that those who were invited to this book club were regulars at either Vivian, Leda or Cora’s shops. They were all around the same age and had all just moved to Vesuvia or just moved back within the past year.

“Have either of you met them?”

“Um, I think I met one of them,” Ella shrugs. “And Leila knows of two. The other girl is friendly with the rest of them, which is why she was invited, but none of our aunts have met her.”

Leila returns to the living area, setting the cakes on the table beside the tea. “I do know that one of them has their eye on you, Beatrice,” she says, nudging her friend's shoulder. “Your aunt said so. But I won’t tell you who it is, because then you’ll just be a blushing mess any time they try to talk to you.”

“I would not!” Beatrice exclaims, her cheeks already burning. “I feel it would be better to know ahead of time!”

Ella rolls her eyes toward the ceiling and then fixes Leila with an unamused gaze. “Why would you tease her like that?” She mutters, standing from her seat to answer the door. “Sounds like our guests have arrived.”

Only three of the four invited guests were able to attend, and they each say hello to the three magicians before sitting down and gratefully accepting the tea Leila offers.

Anita was the first to make her introduction. The girls liked her immediately, with her very bubbly, loud personality and whooping laugh. She had kind gold eyes and a bright smile, and easily made herself at home with Ella on the couch.

Alice followed closely behind Anita, shaking hands with each of the women as she introduced herself in a soft, melodic voice. Beatrice quickly recognized the redhead as a nursing student that frequently made an appearance at her aunt’s shop. The two women made eye contact, and Alice smiled shyly and blushed before immediately looking away.

Charlotte, a very pale, very blonde, very pretty woman only nodded in acknowledgement as she was introduced by Anita, who was the one who had invited her. Charlotte found her seat quickly, at the head of the gathering, her dark eyes scanning the magicians up and down in silent judgement as she made a show of removing her fur coat.

Once they are all seated, the six women spend a decent amount of time making small talk, getting to know each other better, though it quickly becomes obvious Charlotte thinks too highly of herself to be associating with her hosts. She comments on how “small and humble” the home is and turns her nose up at the cakes offered, informing the others the only cakes she will eat are from a specific, high-end bakery in the Heart District. Not too long after, Charlotte makes a comment to Leila about magicians in a tone that suggests she thinks quite little of them, smiling as if daring Leila to challenge her statement. Instead of responding, Leila gives her a dangerously polite smile and excuses herself to the kitchen to get more tea.

Now alone, Charlotte holds her book open in her lap, waiting for the conversation to die out before she clears her throat to begin the discussion.

“We’ve all finished the novel, correct?” She asks, making eye contact with each person sitting around her, waiting for them to nod before looking to the next woman. “Good. I thought we could start by discussing general feelings toward the story.”

She waits patiently, her rings catching the light as her perfectly painted pink nails drum on the open book in her lap, her eyebrows raised like a teacher waiting for her students to participate. Out of the corner of Ella’s eye, she sees Leila return to her seat, now holding a different cup than she had before.

“I enjoyed it,” Alice offers. “It was an easy read, and the story had a nice flow to it.”

Charlotte nods and hums in agreement before turning toward Beatrice, placing a delicate hand on her knee and giving it a squeeze. “Beatrice, honey, what did you think?”

Beatrice blinks down at the hand on her knee, her gaze flickering up toward Ella and Leila. From the brief moment of eye contact, the three magicians silently agree that they are not fans of this guest.

Anita senses Beatrice’s discomfort at the unwanted contact, and offers instead her own opinions on the book, adding that it was refreshing to read a novel where some of the characters were meant to be unlikable.

Charlotte frowns at this, leaning back in her chair. “Unlikable? Would you elaborate on that?”

“No,” Anita responds, taking a bite of her cake. Ella clears her throat to cover a laugh and Beatrice and Alice share a small smile.

The tendons in Charlotte’s neck tense momentarily, but she shrugs off the comment and launches into her own analysis of the novel, which lasts at least a good thirty minutes alone.

She continues to dominate the discussion, asking questions of the others that she immediately disagrees with, calling them idiots in not so few words as she picks apart their opinions on the book.

The energy in the group continues to deflate as Charlotte drones on. Leila excuses herself again to get more tea, returning with more cakes as Charlotte admits that this book happens to be her least favorite romance novel of all time.

“Why is that?” Ella asks, reaching for a cake. “I thought it was pretty good.”

“Pretty good? No.” Charlotte scoffs. “Poor decisions were made on the part of Mr. Chauncey.”

“Elaborate on that,” Leila remarks, standing up to disappear to the kitchen again, and Anita lets out a chuckle.

Charlotte seems to miss the joke and straightens up in her chair, flipping a gold ringlet over her shoulder. “Well, the woman he was pursuing was incredibly beneath his status. Marrying her was a poor choice, as it only elevated her status and tarnished his own.”

“But they were in love,” Alice murmurs, frowning. “One doesn’t care much for social status when matters of the heart are involved.”

Charlotte snorts, dismissing Alice’s thought. “Mr. Chauncey’s mother worked so hard to keep them apart, to save her family and protect what they had made for themselves. I believe she is one of the characters you alluded to earlier, Anita, the ones that were written to be unlikable?”

Anita nods, but Beatrice speaks up before she can respond, surprising Ella and Leila.

“She is unlikable. The son she was trying to protect was not the heir to their family fortune, seeing as he was the youngest of five. He could marry much more flexibly than his brothers. The main character, Julia, was a respectable, intelligent woman, who didn’t pursue him out of respect for his status, and whom Mrs. Chauncey only disliked because she didn’t think a ‘mere seamstress’ was worthy of her family.”

“A ‘lowly peasant,’ actually, but—” Charlotte starts, only to be interrupted by Anita.

“Oh come on, Charlotte, you can’t actually believe she was written to be a likeable character.”

“I do.” She sniffs, tilting her chin upward. “I quite like her, and she even reminded me a bit of myself.”

“I think she’s a bitch,” Leila says, her eyes locked on Charlotte’s.

For a heartbeat, there is silence. Then Anita and Ella both let out a bark of laughter, falling into each other as their bodies shake. Alice and Beatrice giggle, attempting to hide the sound by covering their mouths with their hands.

Charlotte’s nostrils flare as Leila takes a sip from her mug, her eyes still on Charlotte.

“Mrs. Chauncey believes she’s better than everyone, that she always knows best, and that she deserves more respect than others, just because she was lucky enough to be born into money and status.” Leila shrugs, cocking her head to the side. “Having nice things doesn't automatically make you a good or important person.”

Charlotte fingers the diamond pendant around her thin neck, raising her eyebrows at the soft purple shawl wrapped around Leila’s shoulders. “Oh, but it does.”

Ella sees the flash of anger in Leila’s eyes and stands up quickly, moving her body in between the two women and clapping her hands together loudly. “Oh-kay! What a riveting discussion! But I am beat, whew, what a long day it’s been!” She pulls Charlotte off of her chair by her elbow despite her protests, leading her toward the door as Anita and Alice grab their things.

“Some of us need to work in the morning, so,” Ella opens the door and almost shoves Charlotte out. “Get home safe now!”

Alice thanks Leila for the hospitality and shakes Beatrice’s hand, giving it a small squeeze before she follows a fuming Charlotte out the door and into the night. Anita, still laughing, gives Leila a hug.

“You were spot on with that character analysis,” she chuckles, winking. “Thank you for having us. I’d really love to see you all again sometime.”

Ella closes the door after Anita and leans her head against the wood. She lets out a long exhale before returning upstairs to Beatrice and Leila, ready to scold Leila for blatantly antagonizing a guest. Instead, she finds both of them in hysterics on the couch, their heads leaning against each other as they shake with laughter.

“Well, I’m glad you two think that was funny. I think it’s safe to say we didn’t make many new friends tonight,” Ella says, flopping down next to them on the couch. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

“Hmm,” Leila hiccups once, adjusting herself in order to rest her head on Ella’s shoulder. “I dunno, but I think you’re stuck with us.”

“It does seem that way,” Ella laughs. “At least we won’t have to plan any more book clubs.”

Beatrice wipes at the corner of her eyes, still giggling. “That sounds fine with me.”

[juliandev0rak]

although I want you to finish your essays, I would love to see 📷 for beatrice 🥰

i turned in an essay and i am using this post as a reward lol, thank you @leechobsessed

Send me 📷+ an OC and I’ll share a picture from their pinterest board

the caption on this photo on pinterest is “a light in the dark” and that pretty much sums up beatrice’s symbolism 🕯

[juliandev0rak]

Today is Beatrice’s Birthday! 🕯✨

In honor of my very first arcana oc, and getting to celebrate Beatrice’s second birthday since I started writing her, I wanted to make a post to commemorate the occasion! 

Beatrice will be spending her birthday with a nice book and a cup of tea, but you’re very welcome to stop by as long as you bring something sweet with you (cake is her favorite)

💌 beatrice’s bio 💌

[juliandev0rak]

🎁 for beatrice 💕 —leila-of-ravens

thank you for enabling me @leila-of-ravens 💗

send me 🎁 and a character and i’ll describe them using images i already have saved

[juliandev0rak]

hold me close and hold me fast

the magic spell you cast

this is la vie en rose

so... @leechobsessed and i have a little surprise for @leila-of-ravens 👀 we commissioned the wonderful @di-mitya to draw Lysander and Beatrice (vianan) 💗

today is vianan’s one year anniversary, so there’s no better time to share this beautiful commission of them being soft and in love

Ezra did such an amazing job with this, they captured vianan so perfectly and all of the details are lovely 🥺 i will be swooning over this art (and over these ocs) forever, thank you so much 💗

[juliandev0rak]

Love Me Tender 🍋

In which Beatrice and Lysander finally understand what all the fuss is about.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens ), Beatrice Viano

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~4000

warnings:  minors do not interact! nsfw / lemon (fingering, penetrative sex)

notes: the fic we’ve all been waiting for, in honor of vianan’s one year anniversary I offer you: vianan’s first time

please listen to this version of Love Me Tender by Elvis as accompaniment

Beatrice is distracted. 

For the last twenty minutes she’s been very invested in the debate they’ve been having. But now, as she sits next to Lysander on the couch she finds herself much more interested in him. It had started out as a simple conversation, but had quickly morphed into something more. One moment Lysander was explaining a concept from a book he’d been reading and the next they’d been debating the principles of truth in an argument getting more heated by the minute. 

As Lysander argues the book’s perspective, the self satisfied smirk on his face is telling enough. He knows that he’s right and he’s going to make sure that Beatrice knows it too. She’d be angrier about it if he didn’t look so handsome when he argues like this, his dark eyes shining and hands gesturing for emphasis. He’s distracting, but she won’t admit how much his proximity is affecting her ability to focus on the argument at hand. 

Normally she’d be just as determined to get her point across, but she can’t seem to focus on anything other than his lips and the words he’s speaking seem to come out as gibberish. In a moment of clarity she realizes that the words might as well be gibberish, the book excerpt he’s reading from is written in a language that she’s pretty certain hasn’t been spoken in centuries. He runs a hand through his hair as he speaks, making him look just the right amount of disheveled, and Beatrice finally decides that she’s had enough. 

“I’m not sure you’re correct,” she interrupts, though truthfully, Beatrice isn’t quite sure what she’s arguing for anymore.

“But I am correct,” Lysander counters, unconsciously leaning in towards her until their noses are nearly touching. “You’re confusing the principles of truth and validity, an argument can be valid without being truthful. It all depends on whether the conclusions follow the premises.” 

He’s got a point, and she would tell him that, but at the moment Beatrice cares much more about how close he suddenly is to her. She’s very distracted now. “Is that so,” she murmurs, noting just how close their lips are to each other. 

Lysander falls silent as he stares at her, at a sudden loss for words despite the debate he’d been so determined to win only moments ago. His eyes drift down to her lips and she watches the movement carefully, hesitating for only a second more before she leans in to kiss him. He kisses back fervently, more strongly than she’d anticipated. 

They can’t seem to get close enough, even as the space between them disappears. Beatrice moves in closer until she’s nearly sitting in his lap and her arms wrap around his shoulders. Lysander pulls her in by the waist until her body is pressed flush to his, and when she moves away for air his lips travel down to her jaw. 

They’ll call the debate a draw then, this is far more interesting.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Lysander says, kissing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Beatrice gives a quiet moan in response and tries to remind herself to be gentle with her hands as they wander down his back. 

“Is it working?” Beatrice asks, and Lysander answers her question with another hungry kiss. 

She notices then just how much her proximity is affecting Lysander, he’s half hard already, pressed against her leg. Beatrice tries not to think too much as she experimentally moves her hips against him to gauge his response, creating just a bit of friction between them. When he gasps against her lips and his hips move up to meet hers, she does it again, seeking more contact. Lysander pulls back a moment later, panting as he looks at her with wide eyes. Beatrice blushes, shifting slightly so that her hair falls forward to hide her face. 

He’s waiting for her to say something, to discuss the line they’re so very close to crossing, so she does her best to be brave.

“Do you want to—” Beatrice pauses, feeling silly for being so shy when this is Lysander, the person she trusts most in the world. “Do you want to try something more?” 

“More,” he echoes, reaching forward to tuck her hair back behind her ears so he can look at her. His voice has gone the slightest bit deeper, and as he looks at her his eyes go the slightest bit darker. “Tell me, Beatrice, what more do you want?” 

Beatrice’s eyes grow wide and her face positively burns from how hard she’s blushing. Her mind scrambles to find a polite way to ask for what she wants, but what she wants isn't exactly polite. “I want you, all of you.” She waits for him to say something, holding her breath in suspense.

“All of me as in,” Lysander pauses, the meaning of her words finally catching up to him. “You want to have sex?” 

Hearing him say those words so bluntly has her unable to form a coherent sentence. Beatrice clears her throat, nearly choking on air in her haste to reply, “I- well, sure. I mean yes, only if you want to!” 

It takes Lysander a moment to form a response as well, her proposal rendering him equally unable to speak. “Are you sure you want to?” 

“Yes, I’m very sure. I want you,” she repeats. Beatrice forces herself to look up to meet his eyes. He’s smiling at her, and she can’t help but return the gesture as all of her fear at his reaction vanishes. 

“Then you have me.” Lysander moves his hands to cradle either side of her face as he leans in to kiss her tenderly. She sighs into it, wrapping her arms more securely around him. “Shall we move to the bedroom then?” 

“Yes,” she says, and Lysander kisses her again.

Beatrice barely remembers the walk to their bedroom. They stop a few times along the way to kiss, Lysander pressing her up against doors and wood paneled walls as she laughs and presses back against him. Ordinarily she might be worried someone would see them, but she can’t find it in herself to care at the moment. She’s half drunk on the idea of touching Lysander, of him touching her. 

When they reach the bedroom door he pulls her through and locks it behind them. He reaches for her hand again and takes a step backwards into the room, pulling her with him towards the bed. She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and pulls her shoes off before reaching to remove her stockings. 

Lysander places his hand on hers to stop her and she looks up at him in question. “Allow me.”

He kneels down in front of her, placing his hands on her legs. As his hands slide up under her dress, warm against her cold skin, Beatrice shivers. He’s watching her so intently, eyes never leaving hers as he reaches the soft skin above her knees and pulls, taking down one, then the other, stocking before neatly folding them and placing them aside.

Next to come off is Lysander’s shirt, and Beatrice stands to help him unbutton it. Her hands are a bit unsteady and she falters every now and then as he leans into her touch. As she untucks his shirt from his pants, her hands linger on his waistband for a moment before she quickly moves back up to undo the last shirt button. He shrugs out of his shirt then carefully removes the bodice he wears under it.

Beatrice lets out a breath and turns her back to him to gesture to the buttons at the back of her dress. “Can you help me with these?” she asks, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He nods and moves his hands to the task, his fingers occasionally brushing against her back as he works. When he reaches the final button he stills and presses a kiss against the back of her neck as she lets her dress fall to the floor.

Lysander leans in to kiss her again as he tries to unbutton his pants, struggling to do so while not breaking the kiss. She laughs with him as they accidentally knock teeth and he finally moves away so he can undress properly. As he steps back he takes her in, eyes roving over the curves of her body usually hidden beneath layers of dresses and cloak. 

Her face grows warm under his attention, so she decides to focus on Lysander instead of being self conscious. She places her hand on his bare chest, gently tracing over his skin as his hands travel down her shoulders. He shivers under her touch, then slowly ghosts his hand over the curve of her breast, mirroring her movements.

“You’re beautiful, Beatrice,” Lysander says, his voice nearly a whisper. His hand moves around to the small of her back, drawing her closer.

“So are you.” She smiles at him encouragingly but her heart is stuttering in her chest. It’s more excitement than nerves, but she finds herself comforted by his steady hands on her. Beatrice leans in to kiss him and after a moment he pulls her back towards the bed again.

Before she can overthink the final act of undressing, Beatrice reaches down to pull her underwear off and throws it over the edge of the bed. She leans back against the headboard and watches as Lysander follows suit, though he takes the time to fold his underwear before setting it aside more carefully than she had done. Beatrice laughs at the gesture and he gives her a shy smile in reply. 

The laughter fades into silence and then it’s just the two of them, bared to each other in the warm, candlelit room. In the dim lighting Beatrice watches him look at her, the adoring almost awe-stricken expression on his face makes her breath catch in her throat. She stares back at him, her eyes tracing both the familiar and new planes of his body. She wants to memorize him like this, perfectly silhouetted in golden light, looking at her like she's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

He’s certainly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

After a moment she decides she’s had enough of just looking and she leans forward to kiss him. Her hands run over the sharp lines of his collarbones and down his arms. Lysander sits back, letting her explore him as her lips travel a path towards his jaw, then further downwards. She peppers kisses across his chest then pauses, briefly looking up at him as she ever so softly presses a kiss to the middle of his sternum. He shivers again and Beatrice pulls further back, looking a bit uncertain as she meets his gaze.

“Beatrice?”

“It’s just, I-” Beatrice starts, now staring resolutely at the wall behind him instead of meeting his eyes. “I’m not quite sure what to do.” She internally curses herself for not asking Ella for more advice before embarking on this new endeavor. 

“And you think I know?” Lysander laughs, the sound warm and reassuring. “I haven’t a clue what I’m doing either.”

Beatrice looks back at him, feeling relieved. “Then we’ll simply have to figure this out together.”

“Together,” Lysander repeats, nodding his head. 

“I suppose it’s rather simple in theory,” Beatrice says. “Though as I understand it, there’s much room for experimentation.” 

“Perhaps let’s save experimentation for another time,” Lysander smiles. 

“I think that’s a good decision,” she agrees. “Well, shall we then?” 

Lysander laughs again, shaking his head at her affectionately. “You’re so business-like.”

“I dare say we’ll be here ‘till next spring if we delay any longer,” Beatrice defends herself, and he grins, fully in agreement with her assessment.

Lysander reaches for Beatrice, lips meeting hers again as his hands find their way back to her body. He explores her, running his hands over her arms, her breasts, her stomach. She finally manages to relax as he holds her, melting against him as he kisses her. At last, his hand dips between her thighs and she gasps against his lips as his fingers work to bring her pleasure in just the way she likes, the way he’s become very familiar with by now. In this, at least, they know what they’re doing.

It’s good but it’s not enough, and Beatrice can’t help but move her hips impatiently, seeking more than he’s offering. He slips in a second finger and she can feel herself slowly but steadily reaching the edge. Warmth pools in the pit of her stomach and her breath hitches as his fingers curl into her. Her quiet sounds change from gasps to moans, and she’s nearly there. But all too soon Lysander stops and she makes a sound of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her. 

Her annoyance is quickly forgotten as Lysander moves to hover over her, his knees resting between her legs. He’s still looking at her with that awed expression, like he can’t quite believe that she’s real and that they’re really doing this. She gently runs her fingers through the curls near his forehead and leans in to kiss his temple. 

“Are you quite sure this is what you want?” Lysander asks and she pulls back to look at him, meeting his eyes in a serious gaze.

Beatrice has never been sure of much in life, but she is sure of Lysander, she is sure of this.

“I’ve never been more certain,” she assures him. “I trust you.”

“And I you.” 

They come together slowly, as in every aspect of their relationship. Lysander’s eyes are glued to Beatrice’s to watch her reaction as he enters her, and he squeezes her hand as if to reassure her, or himself. His eyes close and he gives a shaky breath as he enters her fully with a final shallow thrust. He rests his forehead against hers and they both breathe deeply, adjusting to the new sensation. They’re as close to each other as they can possibly get, and yet Beatrice would get even closer if she could. 

She reaches her free hand up to cup the side of his face. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I must admit I did not know what to expect but this is—” Lysander pauses, at a loss for words as he opens his eyes to look at her. He takes another quavery breath and reaches out to brush Beatrice’s bangs out of her eyes. “How are you?” 

“I’m perfect,” Beatrice smiles reassuringly, moving her hand down to rest on his shoulder. “You can move, I’m alright.” 

So he does, moving out of her just as slowly as he’d entered. He groans under his breath as he presses back into her and Beatrice rises up to meet him, her hand grasping his shoulder to have something to hold onto. Lysander sets a gentle pace, rocking slowly into her again and again. Their movements are both a bit uncoordinated at first as they learn what feels best, but they soon fall into sync.

Beatrice finds that she loves being this close to him, this connected. They fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other, and it feels so much better than she’d expected. Every sensation is heightened, his hand resting on her hip raises goosebumps, and she can’t look away from his eyes, so serious and attentive as he watches for her every reaction.

Lysander always gets a furrow between his eyebrows when he’s focused, and Beatrice leans forward to kiss the spot, causing his rhythm to falter. He looks startled for a moment, which is entirely too endearing, and Beatrice leans in to press her lips to his. She moans into his mouth as he kisses her and the sound seems to urge him on. 

He moves his hand down to where they’re joined and she writhes against him, gasping as he circles her clit. Lysander’s boldness constantly surprises her, and the look on his face is the same one he gets when he knows he’s winning an argument. He’s confident, determined, and perhaps even a bit smug about how much he’s affecting Beatrice. It doesn’t take long for the combination of his actions to bring her close to the edge again. 

“And you said you didn’t know what you were doing,” Beatrice says. “You’ve been reading more, haven’t you?” 

He gives her a coy grin. “Perhaps.” 

“Where do you even find these books?” 

Lysander stills to catch his breath and reaches up to brush Beatrice’s hair out of her eyes again. She makes a mental note to put her hair up next time. “You have to know where to look. Most of them are from underground bookshops, or at least shops which used to be relegated to the underground. And of course a great deal of the books on this particular subject are disguised.” 

“I hadn’t noticed any enchanted books in the library.” Beatrice frowns, wondering what else she might have missed.

“I don’t exactly keep these books out in the open where anyone might find them,” Lysander blushes, as if talking about erotic books is somehow more scandalous than the fact that he’s currently inside of Beatrice. “I would be happy to show you how to recognize them. It’s a simple cloaking spell. For example, the most detailed of the volumes I read was disguised as a history of trade routes through this region.” 

“I suspect you were looking for the history book rather than a book about sex,” Beatrice laughs. 

“You’re correct, and I’m still trying to locate the actual book, though I have begun to think it doesn't actually exist. Perhaps I can compile my own notes on the matter into a book.” The furrow between his eyebrows returns and Lysander’s mind is clearly miles away. He seems to have momentarily forgotten what it is they’re meant to be doing.

“Lysander?” Beatrice’s voice startles him out of his thoughts and his eyes move back to meet hers. “Can we talk about the history of Umbran trade routes another time?” 

“Oh, my apologies,” he laughs, and Beatrice joins in. “I promise you are much more engaging than a history book.”

“That’s quite the compliment,” Beatrice teases, but the words falter as he resumes movement. Her breath comes out in a gasp as he enters her more quickly than before, his careful pace speeding up. 

“Despite the variety of my reading on the subject, I never quite understood the appeal of sex,” Lysander says, and Beatrice wonders at how he can keep up a conversation while she feels like she can hardly remember to breathe.

“Do you understand the appeal now?” Beatrice pants.

“Yes.” Lysander’s dark eyes are wide as he looks at her, the expression one of open honesty and affection. “I didn’t know that it would be like this.” 

“Lysander.” Beatrice suddenly feels like it’s all too much, she feels as if her heart could burst at how much she loves him. 

“Beatrice.” He leans down to kiss her and she sighs happily, lost to her emotions and the mounting pleasure she feels at being with him like this. “You feel so, this is so—” 

“Good,” Beatrice finishes his sentence. Lysander looks at her, watching her hazel eyes flutter shut. She bites her lip to hold in a moan, and he notes the flush high on her cheeks and the way her fingers grip his shoulder to pull him closer as he thrusts into her. 

“You don’t have to be quiet,” Lysander says, suddenly very keen to hear the audible effect he has on her again. “It’s only us here.”

Her eyes open and she looks up at him, her mouth opening into a wide “o” in surprise. His hand reaches down once more to where she’s most sensitive and he gets his wish as she makes another soft sound of pleasure. She’s so close, the pressure and the heat growing to levels she’s never experienced before. In the heat of the moment she says a few very unladylike words, though Lysander is too far gone to notice. His lips press to hers again in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else and he swallows the rest of the sounds she makes.

Lysander suddenly pulls back to rest his forehead against hers again and she can tell he’s close. His breath comes out in uneven puffs as his careful rhythm falters once more, his movements becoming more sloppy. With a final stifled gasp he comes, and his head falls to rest on her shoulder. Beatrice follows shortly behind, her hand still holding his as an anchor, a reassurance that they’re in this moment together. 

Afterwards they lay together, Beatrice held close against his chest as they both come down from the high. His fingers gently comb through her hair, working out any tangles as she lets her eyes fall shut again. The room around them is quiet and still, the only sounds are their breathing and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Eventually, Lysander leans down to kiss her forehead and Beatrice beams up at him.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Tired.” Lysander kisses her on the cheek this time and she laughs.

“No, silly, how do you feel.”

“Are you asking how I feel emotionally?” 

“Yes!” Beatrice smiles, full of affection as she looks at him.

“I feel…” Lysander trails off, looking deep in thought. Beatrice waits, tracing over the lines on the palm of his hand as he thinks. “I feel loved.”

At his words, tears threaten to well up in the corner of her eyes and Beatrice blinks hard, determined to reel her emotions in. She’d never thought she could find this with someone, a love built on trust and kindness and curiosity. She feels so lucky to have found someone who understands her so well, someone whose presence calms her and makes her feel at home.  

Beatrice turns in his arms so that her chest is pressed to his and her arms wind around him to pull him closer. As she buries her head in his shoulder she’s comforted by his familiar scent. She can hardly believe that she’s really here in his arms, with his warm body holding hers. 

This was worth the wait, every bit of it

Lysander rubs circles on her back to soothe her, bringing her back into the present. “How do you feel?” he asks, and Beatrice thinks for a moment. 

“Completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy,” she sighs, knowing that even those big words can’t manage to convey the entirety of how she feels right now.

“That’s quite the commendation, I must have done a good job then,” Lysander laughs. Beatrice looks up at him, noting the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I should say so. I don’t think I’ll be moving from this bed for at least a week,” Beatrice jokes.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea to me.” Lysander presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, then reaches down to pull the bedcovers over them more completely. She snuggles closer to his side, feeling content but exhausted.

“Beatrice?”

“Yes?”

“You do know that I was correct earlier, right? About the difference between truth and validity?” He’s entirely serious, but Beatrice knows that if she engages in this conversation again they’ll be up half the night.

“Lyse?”

“Yes?”

“Go to sleep.”

Lysander laughs but lets it go, though he’ll likely bring the topic up again tomorrow. Debates with Beatrice are his favorite activity, though he might have a new favorite activity now. He quickly extinguishes the candles with his magic, leaving only the glow of the fireplace to illuminate them as he looks at Beatrice. He reaches for her face, pulling her in for one last sleepy kiss.

“I love you,” Beatrice murmurs, already half asleep. 

“And I you.” 

[juliandev0rak]

Beatrice: nightmares :/

Freya: she doesn’t cry 😪

Aster: she heard Asra talking in his sleep (about frogs) and it was adorable

Stella: cry-laughing at the sight of Lucio passed out on the floor next to Mercedes and Melchior

Camellia: ran into a door while going to get a drink of water

Willa: thinking about baby animals 😌

tell me why your oc is crying at 3am

[juliandev0rak]

since i saw @leechobsessed do it i also had to join in, here’s my bunch 💗

picrew

[nvvermore]

then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. let me lead you from your solitude

[juliandev0rak]

Beatrice’s Guide to Autumn 🍂

Happy autumn! To celebrate it being the best time of the year I’ve decided to share some of Beatrice’s favorite fall things, as it’s her favorite season 🍂✨

1. wear something cozy 🧣

warm sweaters, earth tones, and of course- her trusty green cloak, compliment any autumn ensemble

2. go on an autumn walk 🎃

there’s nothing better than a crisp morning walk to the library, or to the bakery where Beatrice buys as many warm pastries as she can carry

3. find the perfect book to read 📚

whether it’s an informative textbook or a fiction novel meant to pull you into another world, Beatrice can always be found with her nose in a book

4. make a cup of tea ☕️

any warm beverage will do, but here’s her recipe for the perfect cup of tea 

5. cuddle with someone you love 💌

if she can’t convince @leila-of-ravens’ Lysander to stay in bed all day, Beatrice loves to cuddle her familiar Bramble, a sweet (and always very sleepy) rabbit 

happy autumn ☕️🍂🎃

[juliandev0rak]

a most welcome guest

A late night meeting gives Beatrice hope.

characters: Lysander Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens ) also Lorcan Lonan (best dog), Beatrice Viano, brief cameo from Bramble (best bunny)

pairing: Lysander Lonan x Beatrice Viano / Vianan

words: ~1990

notes: set sometime after the Yule ball, catch up on the vianan series here!

Sleep doesn’t come easily for Beatrice these days. She’s always been a light sleeper, the slightest creak of a floorboard could wake her up, and it usually takes her a while to adjust to new surroundings. The Lonan Manor is no exception, so it’s no surprise that Beatrice is lying awake with only her racing thoughts and the sound of wind whipping through the trees outside to keep her company.

After lying in bed for another restless hour she gives up, deciding a cup of tea and a book are in order. She’s been thinking too much, worrying about the school back in Vesuvia and whether she’s truly good enough to run it. Despite her best efforts, the disparaging, sarcastic words a noble had said to her at the Yule ball have been running on an endless loop in her head,

 “A shop owner. The education of Vesuvian youth is in good hands.”

She had stood up for herself in the moment, and Lysander had been very kind in shutting down the nobles' rude comments, but she can’t help but worry that they were right. She doesn’t have an education, not a formal one like all of the Umbrans she's met. Perhaps she really is better suited to stay at the shop forever. 

Beatrice sighs and gets out of bed, pulling her cloak on to ward off the cold air. Bramble is still fast asleep on the corner of her bed and Beatrice gently scratches behind one of her ears as she passes by on the way to the door.

She knows she’s being silly, of course she’s qualified for this. Nadia trusts her, Lysander trusts her, and isn’t the point of the Vesuvian school to provide children with an education, a chance she’d never gotten? She decides to attempt to stop thinking about it for the night, she’s on vacation after all.

Beatrice heads down the hall and the first flight of stairs, trying to be quiet to avoid waking anyone up. She conjures a small ball of light into her hand to help her navigate the dark halls, though she knows her way around by now she hates the dark. A door creaks open behind her and before she can turn around to see who it is, a shape runs at her in the dark, knocking into her legs. 

She squeals in surprise and her light spell accidentally grows in size until the whole hallway is flooded with bright light. Beatrice lifts a hand to shield her eyes and reins the spell back in until it's only a tiny orb in her palm again. She’s normally very good at controlling her magic, but being taken off guard like that had caused a near explosion of power. 

She looks down to see Lorcan illuminated in her light, happily wagging his tail at her. “Lorcan! You gave me such a fright,” Beatrice whispers, leaning down to pet him. Lysander stands in the doorway of his office and when Beatrice notices him she stands up, brushing her hair behind her ears self consciously. 

“Are you alright?” Lysander asks, his tone politely concerned.

“Yes, thank you. I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake, and I must confess I’m not a fan of the dark,” Beatrice admits. She takes in Lysander’s appearance, noticing that he’s still dressed in his day clothes. His shirtsleeves are rolled up nearly to his elbows and his face looks a bit pale, like he’s been working for too long. 

“I apologize for startling you, Lorcan heard a sound and wanted to investigate. That was a very powerful illumination you just created. I thought it might already be daybreak,” Lysander says, and Beatrice can’t decide if he’s complimenting her or making a joke.

“My apologies for the brightness, I hope it didn’t hurt your eyes.” Beatrice looks down at Lorcan instead of meeting Lysander’s gaze.

“I think yours is a perfectly common fear. Many people possess the same distaste for darkness,” Lysander says. “Though I imagine for most people, the fear is not the darkness itself but rather what might be hidden in the darkness.”

“Indeed.” Beatrice looks at the dark stairwell behind her warily, wishing he would change the subject.

Lysander gives her a kind look, as if he understands her fear. “But you’re a magician, surely you must know that you’re prepared for whatever dangers you might face.” 

“I suppose so.” She considers his statement, wondering how she’d actually fare under dangerous circumstances. She decides she’d rather not find out, she’s quite content using her magic for less extreme purposes. Lorcan sniffs at her hand and Beatrice reaches down to pet him again.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to find myself in a duel with you,” Lysander says and Beatrice laughs in surprise, that comment was definitely a joke. He doesn’t often make jokes around her and she finds she quite likes this side of him. 

“I wouldn’t like to duel you either,” she replies.

Lysander’s lips quirk up into a half smile at her comment. “I find that I much prefer verbal debates.” 

“They say that the pen is mightier than the sword,” Beatrice recites, returning his smile with one of her own.

“Quite right. I find that clichés often hold a modicum of truth,” Lysander says.

They stand there in silence for a minute, both smiling at each other before Beatrice finally looks away. Not wanting to make the moment awkward, she plans her escape. “Well, I think I’ll go make some tea, I doubt I’ll find sleep any time soon.” 

Beatrice can hardly believe her luck as Lysander starts to follow her down the hallway. “I’ll accompany you. I find myself in need of some tea as well, it’s been a busy evening.” 

They make their way to the kitchen, both remaining silent to avoid waking the rest of the household. Lorcan walks along beside Lysander, eagerly following him towards their destination. The manor is much colder at night and Beatrice wraps her cloak around her more snugly as they walk, grateful she’d thought to put it on before venturing out. 

The fire in the kitchen hearth is still faintly burning, and the room is lit with a warm glow that just illuminates the side of Lysander’s face as he peruses the tea options. Leila has provided a large selection and Beatrice watches him choose, noticing the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he searches for his usual Earl Grey. When he finds the correct tea blend he moves away so Beatrice can look, his shoulder brushing hers as he takes a step towards the counter.

Beatrice tries not to react, but her face flushes slightly at the proximity. She turns towards the teas, pretending to read them while she watches Lysander choose a mug out of the corner of her eye. She decides on an herbal mix designed to bring on sleep. Leila has given her this tea plenty of times on nights like this, and while it doesn’t always work, the familiar aroma of chamomile and lavender is comforting. 

Beatrice busies herself with filling the kettle, which is still sitting out from afternoon tea, and uses her magic to raise the water’s temperature to a boil. She pours water into her mug and sets her tea to steep before turning to fill Lysander’s. He thanks her and the two stand in companionable silence for a few moments while they wait for their tea.

When the tea has finished steeping Beatrice stirs a sugar cube into her mug, watching the liquid swirl around in circles. “Why are you up so late?” she asks, unable to help her curiosity. 

Lysander stirs a splash of milk into his tea and takes a sip before replying. “I’ve been occupied with grading papers, it’s nearly the end of term.” 

“I suppose I’ll be just as occupied with grading soon enough.” Beatrice takes a sip of her own tea and adds another sugar cube for good measure. “Though I’m sure grading simple spelling and arithmetic won’t be nearly as difficult as university level coursework.” 

“The Vesuvian school is lucky to have you as its headmistress,” Lysander says, and Beatrice nearly chokes on her tea. He couldn’t have known how badly she needed to hear that reassurance.

“Thank you,” she says, the words a reflex of propriety as she scrambles to collect her thoughts into a fuller sentence. “I don’t think I’ve properly expressed how grateful I am for your assistance in opening the school.” 

“Providing equal opportunity to an education is a noble goal. It’s my pleasure to give any assistance myself or Umbra can offer,” he replies, inclining his head as he speaks. “You’ve done an exceptional job with the plans thus far.” 

“You’ll have to come back to Vesuvia to see the school someday. The construction is nearly complete, I can’t believe how beautiful it’s all turned out.” Beatrice smiles, as she always does when she talks about the school. She takes another sip of her tea, missing the way Lysander’s soft gaze has come to rest on her face. 

“Perhaps,” he says simply, and Beatrice lets the subject drop.

She moves towards the doorway, turning over her shoulder to look at Lysander. “I should let you return to your work now. I think I’ll go read in the drawing room for a while.” 

“I’ll join you, if that’s alright. I believe a change of scenery will help me get through these last few papers.” Lysander takes a step towards her and she nods hurriedly in assent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind the company. You’re very welcome to join me,” Beatrice says. “This is your home after all.”

“True, but you are a most welcome guest,” Lysander replies, darting up the stairs towards his office before Beatrice can fully register what he’s said. She giggles nervously under her breath and tries not to spill her tea as she walks down the hall to the drawing room. Lorcan follows after her, settling down by the fireplace in his usual spot.

She’s just picking a book off of one of the many shelves when Lysander returns with a stack of papers in hand and his mug of tea precariously balanced on top. He sets the papers and his mug on the tea table and moves to the fireplace, gently coaxing the dying embers back to life with his magic. Beatrice takes a seat on the couch and watches him work, impressed by how easily he seems to manipulate the flames. When he’s brought the fire back up enough to warm the room he takes a seat on the chair in front of the tea table. He looks up at Beatrice, who is still watching him closely, and she hurriedly looks down at her book, embarrassed to be caught staring for the thousandth time since she’s arrived here. 

They sit in silence for the next half hour as Lysander works and Beatrice reads, and she finds herself feeling more relaxed then she has in a very long time. The quiet scratching of Lysander’s pen and the crackling fire in the fireplace seem to lull her and the words start swimming on the page in front of her as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Before she realizes how tired she even is, she starts to doze off to sleep.

Beatrice wakes hours later to find weak morning sunlight streaming in from behind the curtains and blearily realizes she’s still on the drawing room couch. The house is quiet and still, and someone’s placed a blanket over her. Her heart thuds oddly in her chest as she realizes it was likely Lysander. Beatrice pulls the blanket around her shoulders as she rises to a sitting position, and a smile she can’t begin to contain spreads across her face.

In the silence of the early morning, with nobody else awake yet to see it, Beatrice lets herself hope.

[juliandev0rak]

Beatrice Viano 💌

the curious magician with a soft heart

Introducing…

Full name: Beatrice Diana Viano

Meaning: 

Beatrice is named after Beatrice from Dante’s Inferno, she guides Dante through hell and represents hope, love, and grace even in the depths of despair (source)

The name Beatrice also means "she who makes happy"

Her middle name Diana is the Roman name for the goddess Artemis, it means “heavenly, divine”

(also inspired by the song Diana by One Direction)

Gender: female, she/ her

Birthday: December 28

Age (start of story): 26

Orientation: bi + demisexual

Magic: water, healing, light, charms

Occupation: teacher, magical researcher

Familiar: Bramble, a brown rabbit

Love interest: Julian Devorak

Shippable?: shippable!!

Theme song: Library Magic- The Head and the Heart

full playlist

— ALIGNMENTS —

Zodiac signs: 

Sun: Capricorn

Moon: Cancer

Rising: Virgo

MBTI: INFJ

Element: water

Major Arcana: The Star

UPRIGHT: hope, faith, purpose, renewal, spirituality

REVERSED: lack of faith, despair, self-trust, disconnection

Minor Arcana: Page of Cups

UPRIGHT:  creative opportunities, intuitive messages, curiosity, possibility

REVERSED: new ideas, doubting intuition, creative blocks, emotional immaturity

Magic:

— Water: Beatrice has always been attuned to water, she can conjure water out of the atmosphere or draw it out of larger sources, be it a drop or a wave. She can also manipulate its temperature to make it boil or freeze. Her magic flows like water, she can use it defensively as a shield or even offensively as a weapon if need be

— Healing: She uses threads of her magic to heal wounds. Beatrice is better at healing others rather than herself, and she’s best at surface level wounds rather than healing illnesses or internal injuries. She can alleviate pain with temperature control, creating ice or heating injuries as needed

— Light: Beatrice can create a ball of light as large as she desires and can manipulate the color (she usually chooses purple). The light serves as a night light or a general light source. Though she generally finds fire a difficult element to work with, she can create small amounts of fire for light, most often used to light a candle without a match

— Charms: Beatrice has created her own spells for specific purposes. Her favorites are a warming charm which she often applies to her cloak and her charmed quill pen which never runs out of ink. She also keeps a diary which is charmed to only open for her 

Other abilities: she plays the piano, speaks multiple languages, is a proficient dancer, and is very good at chess and strategy games of all kinds, she is also adept at solving puzzles and codes

— PERSONALITY & PREFERENCES —

Personality: 

At heart, Beatrice is kind and empathic. She cares deeply for the world around her and those she loves. She wants to make a difference and strives for ideals of equality and peace. Despite her lofty ambitions, Beatrice is quite reserved and does not like being the center of attention. She is quietly ambitious, preferring to focus on furthering her next project rather than celebrating her successes. 

Beatrice is an introvert and doesn’t like crowds, she tends to be shy upon first meeting. She maintains a very polite exterior and follows the rules of propriety and etiquette around strangers. Once she feels comfortable around someone she is much more outgoing and can even be witty or sarcastic. She prefers to have a few close friends rather than a large circle of acquaintances and it takes her quite a while to trust others. 

Beatrice is incredibly dedicated and hardworking. She’s persistent in finishing a task after she starts it and has a bit of a one track mind. Beatrice is happiest when she has a project to work on and a problem to solve. She’s curious, loves to learn, and enjoys teaching others what she knows.

She is very loyal and affectionate towards those she cares about, though she sometimes has trouble expressing this in words. Beatrice keeps her emotions bottled up and it takes someone who knows her well to understand what she’s feeling. When forced to face her feelings, she prefers to express her emotions privately in her diary and will only talk to someone else when prodded. She is intuitive and usually knows how others are feeling despite her difficulty deciphering her own emotions.

Mental health: Beatrice is hypervigilant, startles easily, and is often anxious or worried. She has occasional bouts of melancholy, sometimes accompanied by periods of dissociation or “spacing out”. She has abandonment issues and finds it very difficult to trust and rely on others

Likes: books, rainy days, dessert, learning new things

Dislikes: geese, arrogance, unanswered questions

Fears: the dark, abandonment 

Quirks: she loves sugar and needs every beverage to be sweet in order to drink it, she’s nearly always cold

Favorite food: citrus olive oil cake

Favorite drink: vanilla cinnamon tea (with lots of sugar)

Favorite flower: violets

Favorite color: plum, dark purple

Most likely to: fall asleep in the library

— APPEARANCE —

Height: 5’4 / 164 cm

Eyes: hazel, more green than brown

Hair: brown with lighter golden tones, long, wavy, with wispy bangs

Other: she has freckles on her nose and dotted around her body, a magical burn scar on the palm of her left hand, and a small birthmark in the shape of a heart on her left shoulder

Color theme: plum, neutral earth tones, white, black

Fashion sense: Dark / light academia but make it medieval. White blouses tucked into trousers, sweaters with collared shirts underneath, knee length skirts, flowy white dresses. She usually wears neutral colors but occasionally goes for pastel tones or dark purple. Her clothing often features ruffles, puffy sleeves, and lace. Despite her love of impractical dresses she always wears practical shoes- usually brown lace up boots 

She wears her signature green cloak whenever she’s outside. It was her father’s and it’s a bit too large for her, but it’s like a security blanket for social interactions. It has a hood that she occasionally puts up and deep pockets that are always full of scraps of paper and random potions ingredients

— FAMILY & BACKGROUND —

Family:

Antonella Viano - mother - deceased  | relationship: very strained

Matteo Viano - father - alive, location unknown  | relationship: non-existent

Freya Viano- older sister - alive  | relationship: strained, but improving

Cora Mirelli - maternal aunt - deceased  | relationship: close, maternal

Marcelline Viano - younger half sister - alive, location unknown  | relationship: non-existent 

History:

Beatrice was born in the South End of Vesuvia to a merchant family. Though her family had little money, her mother Antonella had grand aspirations for raising the family to a higher status. Her father Matteo went on frequent trips to sell goods and made a decent living (though it was likely through unscrupulous means). Her mother worked as a tailor for the well-to-do families in the Heart District. Beatrice’s older sister Freya was her best friend and the two had a relatively happy childhood for the first few years. 

But when Beatrice was five her father left on a trip and never came back, choosing his crew and the open seas over his family. Her mother became far more strict as a result. She began to train her daughters to become “proper ladies” so that they could make advantageous marriages in the future. Marrying into wealth was the only solution their mother could see to bring their family out of poverty, and working among the members of high society had made her bitter and jealous of their wealthy lifestyles. 

Beatrice and Freya spent most of their time in lessons with their mother, learning everything from etiquette and dancing to languages and piano. There was little time for anything but lessons and chores, and their mother was cruel in her discipline of rule breaking. Beatrice was raised to believe that good girls should be seen and not heard. She went from an outgoing, excitable child to a withdrawn, shy teenager who longed for escape. 

She found her escape in books and learning. Her mother’s lessons were lax on the academic subjects so Beatrice taught herself science, history, mathematics, and anything else she could learn. She dreamt of running away to the far-off places she’d read about, and though she hardly remembered her father she held out hope that he would come back someday and take her with him.

Beatrice first showed signs of magical ability as a toddler. Her first spell was creating a ball of light to serve as a night light, it was an instinctive bit of magic born out of her fear of the dark. The light spell was her first and her favorite, and she developed it over the years to make sure it could last an entire night without needing her concentration to maintain it.

When her mother learned of her abilities, she forbid Beatrice to use magic as she thought it would make her a social outcast and undesirable for marriage. Beatrice continued to practice magic in secret, though she feared her mother’s reaction if she ever discovered the truth. Her sister Freya was unable to do magic and became jealous of her younger sister and resentful of their mother’s plan for them. 

Freya ran away from home when Beatrice was 12, leaving her to face their mother’s wrath alone. Her situation at home significantly declined until Beatrice was no longer allowed to leave the house without her mother’s supervision. Beatrice was her mother’s final hope at a better life and as she got older it seemed only a matter of time before her mother would try to find a suitable husband for her.

At age 14 Beatrice followed in her sister’s footsteps and left home, headed across town to their Aunt Cora’s magic shop. Cora was Antonella’s sister, though the two had a poor relationship which had ended in a falling out many years prior. Beatrice had only met her aunt a few times before and knew only a little about the “witchcraft” she made her living on. When Beatrice arrived she found Cora to be a warm and inviting person, someone she could trust. Best of all- she was someone who could teach Beatrice magic.

Living with Cora allowed Beatrice the freedom to hone her academic and magical skills. She helped in the magic shop during the day, learning magic alongside her aunt. Her evenings were usually spent with a book in hand  and Beatrice was the happiest she’d been since her sister left. 

When Beatrice was 18 her aunt passed away and the funeral brought more conflict. Freya came back to Vesuvia and she and Beatrice fought, leaving their relationship in tatters. Shortly afterwards, Beatrice met Asra and they became fast friends. As the years went on they became more than friends, but the relationship fell apart as the plague came to Vesuvia.

Beatrice decided to stay behind to help, and though her healing magic wasn’t very strong she volunteered at a nearby clinic to treat the sick. Her mother Antonella died a few months into the outbreak and Beatrice threw herself into her work as a distraction. Over the difficult months of the plague she became close to Julian Devorak, the doctor in charge of the clinic. Not long after, Beatrice shared her mother’s fate and succumbed to the plague, leaving a grieving Asra to bring her back from the dead.

After the events of Julian’s route Beatrice left her aunt’s magic shop to Asra to focus on a bigger project. With Nadia’s help, Beatrice opened the first public school in Vesuvia open to any children who wanted to attend. She spends her days teaching and her evenings researching magic and creating new spells. 

Five facts:

Beatrice is ambidextrous but favors her right hand because of her scar

she got the scar from breaking a curse on an ancient book she found in the library, it took her weeks to unlock it and the rebound from the curse caused the injury which never fully healed (read about it here)

Beatrice gains clarity from being near bodies of water and frequently seeks out water when she has a problem to solve

she was chased by geese once as a child and has a fear of them as a result, she avoids the particular park in the Temple District where this event occurred

she carries three pebbles in her pocket, bits of blue-green sea glass worn smooth by years of holding them, she got them from her father when she was little and has a nervous habit of fiddling with the round pieces of glass when her hands are in her cloak pockets

notes: the bio she deserves 🥺 thank you to all of you who have loved Beatrice alongside me for the last few months, i love her a lot 💗 and thank you as always to @leila-of-ravens bc i stole your bio template Again 

[juliandev0rak]

There is a flutter of wings as a white raven lands on the windowsill, but its appearance isn’t enough to tear Beatrice’s attention away from her book, so Fiachra croaks in greeting. As Beatrice looks over and stands up to greet her visitor, the bird nudges the letter she’s dropped onto the desk, motioning for the woman to open it.

“For the light to my darkness, for my best friend — my dearest Beatrice, I wish you the happiest of birthdays! May every book you read hold valuable knowledge and every dessert you eat be as sweet as you are," it reads.

"I wouldn’t want to disturb your peace, but if you find yourself in want of company on this very joyous day, I will be baking this afternoon and I would love it if you would join me. I only ask that you notify me of the exact time of your arrival so I can prepare the tea.

All my love,

Leila”

—leila-of-ravens

(i'm sorry my reply to this is so late lol, but Beatrice and i appreciate you so much @leila-of-ravens 💗)

Beatrice looks up from her book, startled by Fiachra's croak, but she smiles as she sees her friend's familiar. As Beatrice stands to greet her she carefully strokes a finger over the raven's feathers. Fiachra draws her attention to the letter she's just delivered and Beatrice reaches for it, noticing Leila's familiar handwriting.

As she reads the letter Beatrice's smile grows, and she blinks back a tear or two at the heartfelt message. When she's done reading, she takes a seat at her desk and reaches for her stationery, quickly drafting a reply.

"My dearest friend,

Thank you for your letter and your kind words. I treasure your friendship above all else, even books and sweets. Thank you as well for your invitation. I would love to join you in your baking, though I fear I won't be of much help except in eating the delicious things you make. Shall we say 2 o'clock?

Love always,

Beatrice"

She quickly seals the envelope and hands it off to Fiachra, who had been waiting patiently by the window for her to finish. "Thank you Fiachra," Beatrice says, giving her one final pet before the bird flies back the way she came to deliver the letter.