Mhm, since there over twenty Elders (in the Inner Council), you all will definitely get to see some in not only the second batch, but many other batches to come.
Prompts for Cecelia Blackwood
- Cecelia’s reaction to the aftermath of her father’s death and how she had to take care of the family.
- Cecelia trying to figure out a way to get Eleanor excited about magic.
- Cecelia continuing her investigation for the murderer of her father.
- Cecelia getting into an awful argument with Danette.
- Cecelia in daily, Elder life—what would she be doing?
- Cecelia mentoring Roman Mason.
- Cecelia and all her stress—how does she handle it? Good or bad? Does she break down? Tell us.
Prompts for Johanna Fridriksdottir
- Johanna, in secret, practicing her swordsmanship—does she get caught?
- Johanna upon hearing the news that she would be married off to William.
- Johanna on her journey to the Coven.
- Johanna and her uneasy feeling toward William—what does she suspect?
- Johanna in training; how easily is she mastering her gift?
- Johanna and her fear and paranoia over what William might be planning—how does she handle it?
- Johanna and her feeling of being out in the world. For a girl who was so used to being isolated, how does this have an affect on her?
Oh geez, I thought I fixed that! Thank you so much for letting us know, little grey!
The time has come lords and ladies of the roleplay universe. Our entire first batch is published and open for auditions. Yes, the time has come! After weeks upon weeks of hard work and development, the admins have written out the entire first batch and posted it for you guys to audition for. You can click HERE for a general listing of categories for our characters or you can click HERE for the directory of our characters, which is a quick overview of all our characters.
All the admins here at Coven are incredibly excited for you guys to read through our characters and we hope you fall in love with them as much as we have! If you have any questions, comments, or requests, don’t be afraid to message us! We’d love to hear from you.
-The Coven Mod Team.
“Resilience is not a commodity you are born with, waiting silently on tap. It is self-manufactured, painstakingly, over time by working through your problems and never giving up, even in the face of difficulty or failure”
✗ Basic Information ;
- Species → Banshee
- Age → 31
- Occupation → High Priestess
- Roommate(s) → Lives with Jane Zhou
- Residency Status → Resident, 10 years.
✗ Personality ;
+ Resilient, caring, courageous open-minded
- Stubborn, sarcastic, straightforward, obstinate
✗ History ;
The night was cold, the snow falling ever so gently to the ground as the wind howled through the night sky. It was the type of night that only looked nice from the inside of a heated home. That’s what Evelyn Bennet was thinking as she turned away from the window, jumping onto the sofa to watch TV as loudly as she could. Her parents had allowed her to stay home alone for the first time, a big step to becoming a big kid for Evelyn. Things were pretty much normal, until out of no where, she let out a loud, shrill scream. It startled and scared the young blonde, unsure of where the scream had come from. But before she could process what was happening, the doorbell rang, making the girl jump up again. Slowly walking to the front door, she saw flashes of blue and red from the window, her eyes widening. What was going on? Screaming, police? Had someone called them on her for screaming to loudly? When she opened the door, though, what she heard from them was not what she expected. “I’m so sorry, honey. We need to find out who we can call to come and take care of you. Do you have an aunt or a relative of sorts?” Evelyn stood there, unsure of what to say or do. ..Dead? Her parents were dead? She should be crying, she knew she should be, but no tears came. Evelyn was in too much shock, not only because of the news, but also because she had seen this coming. Weeks ago.
It was weeks before Evelyn was able to speak with anyone. She spoke only a few words with Social Services before being sent off to live with her grandmother she had not seen in quite some time in New York. It was only there that she started talking again, and even though she knew she would sound crazy, she told her grandma about everything that had happened: the vision, the screaming, how her parents turned up dead right after that. Her grandmother only smiled sadly at her then, pushing a lock of blonde hair out of Evelyn’s face and explained everything to her. Evelyn was a banshee, a woman who could predict death and be told that a death had occurred from her own scream. She went on to explain to her that it ran in the family and skipped a generation. Evelyn’s mother was supposed to explain it all to her when it was the right time, but her mother had been snatched away from before that was possible. From that moment on, Evelyn’s grandmother taught her everything: how to keep her powers stable and how to handle all the death she foresaw. It was a lot, but Evelyn was good at keeping it all under control. It was through all this that she became so close to her grandmother, a person she looked as not only family, but her best friend. But when Evelyn turned 16, her grandmother had sudden heart failure, having to stay in the hospital a few weeks before finally, she passed away. Evelyn had not seen this one coming, mostly because her powers were not completely under control just yet. It nearly tore the girl apart, but she didn’t have too much time to grieve. She had no more family left anywhere, and Evelyn refused to be thrown into the foster care system. So, the day after her grandmother’s funeral, she ran away with a fake ID that said she was eighteen.
Evelyn never stayed in one place for too long. She moved from place to place, holding small jobs like a waitress in a local diner or shelving books at a bookstore. She was simply trying to find a place to belong, a place with people like her who understood her. Over the years, she met only a few, some of them teaching her some tricks on getting by and some offering her to come along with them. Evelyn said no to those people, mostly because she either wasn’t ready to commit herself somewhere or because they weren’t what she was looking for. Eventually, Evelyn became good with her visions and using them to help people from letting bad things happen to them. One day, almost five years since her grandmother’s death, she stumbled upon a house in Birmingham, Alabama, a place she’d heard quite a bit from around town. It turned out the house was in fact a coven of witches and other species, including banshees like herself. She had never seen so many of them in her life, and though all the witches seemed to look down upon the banshees as if they were some sort of vermin, for the first time in a long time, Evelyn felt she could possibly settle down somewhere. But it wasn’t just a place to live the witches offered Evelyn. No, they offered her to lead the banshees too.
The proposal was a daunting one—and surprising—but Evelyn took it. She thought it was a god opportunity to help other banshees that came in confused and helpless, to be the type of mentor her grand mother had been to her. And Evelyn was fantastic at it. She didn’t have very many strict rules (like the witches seemed to have) and she was someone who looked out for her kind, her family. The banshees had never had a leader before her, and they all loved her more than she thought was necessary. It has been ten years since she moved into the Coven, and everything seemed fine to her until some of the banshees started complaining to her about the witches. Since Evelyn became High Priestess, the Elders refused to allow Evelyn at any of the meetings. It was their prejudices that got in the way, and though that did bother her, Evelyn just ignored it. She continued leading in the best way she knew how, but the banshees were getting riled up. They felt Evelyn deserved to have a place in the council, to have a say in what happened in their home. She knew she should calm her people down, to get them relax and tell them that it didn’t matter, but the more and more she thought about it, the more she agreed. The Banshees deserved to be heard. They had a voice. And the council? If they weren’t willing to listen, then all she had left to do was scream.
✗ Connections ;
Jane came to the Coven only a few months after Evelyn did. From the first meeting, the two did not really get along. It wasn’t so much that they didn’t like each other, it was more that the two annoyed each other. Jane was good at picking out Evelyn’s small mistakes, and she never missed the opportunity to rub it in her face. Of course, being the High Priestess gave Evelyn the advantage and even though the woman was a few years older than her, she was able to throw her in any type of detention she deemed worthy for a few days. The constant bickering went on for a quite a while, and it became a regular thing that people witnessed in the halls of the Coven. Then, suddenly, one day, Jane and Evelyn found themselves alone in the kitchen. Evelyn was quietly sitting in the corner, eating some cereal as she read a book while Jane was trying to make something at the stove. Everything was fine until suddenly, Evelyn heard a yelp and saw a rag had caught on fire, Jane trying to take it out. Evelyn got up to the help and at the end of it, the two erupted in laughter, amused by what had just happened. From that day on, the two became best friends, something Evelyn hadn’t had since her grandmother passed away. Now ten years later, Jane is considered to be Evelyn’s “right-hand woman.” The person who gives her advice on certain matters and points out if Evelyn is doing something wrong or overly cautionary. As of late, Jane has been adamantly trying to convince Evelyn that she needs a spot on the Council, and has gotten many banshees on board, something that has started to worry Evelyn just a little bit.
Her face claim is Jennifer Morrison and she is currently played by Nirali.
"The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else."
✗ Basic Information ;
- Age → Appears 27, 284 years old
- Type → Elf
- Occupation → Student & Gardener
- Roommate(s) → Lives with Louis Wallace.
- Residency Status → Resident, 2 years.
✗ Personality ;
+ Gregarious, imaginative, compassionate, sensible.
- Cowardly, impulsive, overcritical, secretive.
✗ History ;
Picture this: grass so green, stretching for miles, that it resembles a high-definition television. Every hue is so brilliant, glowing beneath the lemon yellow sun, dripping honeysuckle rays of sunshine. The sky in this shining, powder blue that looks so silky smooth, birds appear like dolphins gliding through the air. Puffy white clouds hover in the air, letting off a reassuring feeling that the day will remain as it is. The day will remain bright and beautiful—happy and wholesome. Deep, red poppies poke out against the background, a shock to the eyes, as they are the exact opposite of the pale pink apple blossoms and velvety purple orchids. Now, picture this: the sun has disappeared. Dust settles across the land, thick and heavy and suffocating. The red poppies have turned into puddles of blood, still a shocking red against the new, desiccated land. The trees are barren of their leaves and the dark, heavy clouds hang in the air like floating anchors. Silence sits in the air so deafening and loud it crushes anything that comes within range. Bodies litter the ground, weeds of torsos and limbs to replace the brightly colored daises and the thick stalks of grass. It is a sea of death and decay and in the distance, the sound of bullets ring in the air; the sound of screams and the sound of magic flying through the air to cut down any bud that dared to grow. It is a pale, sallow comparison to its once former beauty. The brilliant colors are replaced with the neutrals of emptiness and the world after death. It is a purgatory all of its own. Heaven no longer exists. Chaos has come. Welcome to Avalon.
The war wasn’t supposed to happen. That wasn’t how things worked in Avalon. And yet there he stood, watching as his father and brothers packed up and marched off to become the soldiers that every Avalon citizen was meant to be. But he just stood there, standing on the threshold of his home as he watched his family fly off to their new station. Only a few weeks later did Roibon learn the news of their death and their passing. Soldiers, who died in battle. Roibon, a man who would no doubt die a cowardly death. He blames himself, partly, knowing that he should have been standing there right beside them. He knows that if anyone should have been out there on that field, defending the realm against the imps who thought they could swarm in and take over, it should have been Roibon. But he was a coward and he chickened out—he couldn’t find the gut or the strength or the courage that would be needed to stand in that battlefield and do whatever it was needed to fight. For years he remained in Avalon, keeping his mother company against the grief that still managed to wrack her heart. He fought with himself daily, wondering if he too should go off into the world and fight in the battlefield. He wondered if he should follow in his family’s footsteps and continue the legacy. They had a history of great soldiers—but they also had a history of great cowards. And it was the sad fact that Roibon fell under the latter category. He kept telling himself that he would just stay at home and watch his mother who needed it. How could he leave a woman behind when a war like that just waged on outside her doors? A foolish man. And he wasn’t a fool—Roibon was far from a fool—and he loved his mother far too much to leave her in that fear and in that fright. He was far too kind a man to actually leave her behind like that. And then she passed away—of old age, of a sickness, it wasn’t really known—but she passed and Roibon had nothing left to keep him from fighting. So he ran.
The war in Avalon raged on for over a hundred years and it still raged on today. Two years ago, Roibon found the strength to run and leave his home. He transferred realms until he ended up within the human universe, following in the footsteps of his childhood best friend. He dived into a world where he didn’t know anything or anyone. A world where he didn’t fit and all these things that humans lived for confused him immensely. What was an iPhone? What kind of technology needed things called batteries? Didn’t they have magic? So he kept stumbling through until he found the Coven—the haven that his best friend had disappeared to—and he decided to keep there. He couldn’t understand why anyone would come to a realm without magic, but he figured if magic existed anywhere, it would be the Coven. Every day and every night he continues to beat himself up for what happened. He hates himself for the coward that he is, so he distracts himself. Finding an interest in the witches that surrounded him, Roibon dives into the study of all things that they are. History classes, art lessons, whatever he can get his hands on. And that’s when he learned of the civil war brewing in the Coven. The hatred between one side of witches and the other; the hatred between humans and witches. He won’t let it pass this time. He won’t make the same mistake. While the witches are up in arms about the bloodlines around them, Roibon is determined to be the peacemaker. He can’t see his second home torpedo right into a war. He had seen enough causalities and disasters in his lifetime. Avalon had fallen. Like hell he’d let the Coven follow in the same footsteps.
✗ Connections ;
He couldn’t do it. Perhaps that makes Roibon a bad faerie or a bad person or a bad anything—but he just couldn’t do it. What was he supposed to tell Louis when he finally saw him again? What was he supposed to say when he told Louis about the war raging back in Avalon and Roibon was there, in the human realm? He was a coward, that’s what Roibon was, and he refused to let Louis see that. Louis was Roibon’s childhood friend—one of his closest friends—and it was the only reason that Roibon even knew about the Coven and even decided to come here. Of course, when he saw Louis, he couldn’t hold back from telling him what was reigning on in their home country. So, being the good friend, Roibon told Louis about the war. He told him about everything raging back home and how it was destroying Avalon. But he didn’t say anything about himself. He lied. He said that he came to this realm to find more fearies—to get Louis back. He could tell that Louis didn’t believe him, but Roibon didn’t bother even acknowledging it. If Louis wasn’t going to bring it up, then neither was he. Roibon knew Louis. For someone of average intelligence and someone who wasn’t physically strong at all, Louis was willing to fight and die for whatever cause he believed in. He had such bravery that in, some ways, it made Roibon absolutely jealous. He wished he had that much resilience, that much courage, and that much strength. But he didn’t. He was coward. And if there was something that Louis absolutely hated more than anything in the world, it was cowards. People like Roibon. And Roibon wasn’t ready to lose his best friend just yet.
His face claim is Sinqua Walls and he is currently open.
Thank you, nonnie’, we truly appreciate your support. After I (Nikolas) publicly apologizing on here and to the person I wronged personally, The Coven RPG will no longer be answering any more anonymous question regarding this issue. We feel as if it’s time to let this come to rest, and we have confidence people will give not only me but also the roleplay and the other admins a chance to prove ourselves. Actions speak louder than words, right? So again, thank you for the support and we can’t wait to see an audition from you!
"I see life and death and despair and agony in colors that don’t exist."
✗ Basic Information ;
- Species → Banshee
- Age → 24
- Occupation → Unemployed
- Roommate(s) → Lives alone.
- Residency Status → Resident, 3 years.
✗ Personality ;
+ Decisive, honest, ambitious, resourceful.
- Aggressive, bitchy, impatient, quick-tempered.
✗ History ;
Even at the age of seven, little Aileen Loane was able to tell just how crappy her life was. A mother who had been ditched by her bastard, gambling husband and left with two kids, a brother who worked more than he probably went to school, and then there was her. Little Aileen who could barely do anything to help around the house, save for cleaning up the messes that everyone left behind. It wasn’t that her life wasn’t awful—maybe crappy would have been a bad word to use—it was just that it wasn’t ideal. Living in a one-bedroom apartment and living paycheck-to-paycheck wasn’t ideal for anyone. She could see how bad her mother felt, the stress on her shoulders, and there was this guilt in her stomach. She hated whoever her father was, wishing that she knew who exactly he was so she could slap him for what he had done. He had taken all of the family’s savings, gambled it away, and then he finally followed in the footsteps, leaving no trace of himself or any money the family had possessed behind. So she tried. She made sure the house was always clean, she did the dishes, and tried her best to make dinner so that when her brother and mother got home there would be warm food on the table. At the age of ten she ran to the neighbor’s houses, offering to walk their dogs or water their plants just for some spare change. Anything she earned she put in a little piggy bank; any money she found on the street she put in the little piggy bank; and each time that little piggy bank got full, she brought it to her mother to help put toward wherever it was needed. Aileen refused to let their family crumble just because some asshole decided to leave them. And for a while it had all worked out. When Aileen turned fourteen she got a real job and started to work as much as she could, following in her brother’s footsteps with bringing in a paycheck for the family. Life was sticky, but she was finally becoming content with it all. That’s when the screaming began.
They called him the Hamilton Hangman. The Hamilton Hangman, who strung his victims up on some of the most viewed monuments or trees or building in Hamilton, Alabama. A noose would be tied around their broken neck while their insides hung outside of them. The victims, gutted like fish. Aileen still remembered the feeling when it first came. She had been trying to sleep, tossing and turning all night, but there was this incessant noise. This hum in her ears that she just couldn’t shake—and then the hum grew louder and it grew louder. That’s when the voices appeared, whispering and frightened; all talking at once and all trying to get their opinions out. It was all too much, this white noise; this static; it was driving her insane. The night that the young Banshee released her first scream was the night before the morning they found the first Hangman victim. She had awaken in a cold sweat, her mother sitting on the edge of her bed with a worried look on her face, and Aileen had assumed she just had a bad dream. That’s what her mother had told her. But then the bad dreams kept coming—the whispering, the static—and she kept screaming. A sound so loud and so piercing that any eardrums may have blown if someone had been close enough. And each time she let out that metallic scream? Each time she let her mirror break or her vocal chords inflame because she was using them too much and unhealthily? That’s when they found another body. Three times each month for five months she would wake up screaming, announcing that in the morning another death would be televised. Another victim will be found and exploited to the world. The Hamilton Hangman was making a name for himself, while little Aileen Loane was just realizing who she was. Things had gotten so bad, that Aileen soon became afraid to fall asleep. Insomnia plagued her each night until the screams came.
That’s when her mother confessed her secret, claiming that she had only been trying to protect Aileen. Everything that her daughter had gone through—the pain, the torment, the incessant whispering—was all because of the fact that Aileen was a Banshee. And here Aileen just thought she was crazy. But before she could even register what was happening, her mother was packing her up and dragging her to the Coven down in Birmingham. Aileen’s mother claimed it was for the best, until she could control her powers, but Aileen was smarter than that. She knew that this was the place her mother had run from when she was young—so why was she forcing Aileen to go there? Ever since she enrolled, Aileen has hated her time. Surrounded by ignorant witches and raging idiots, the young girl hates her mother for not allowing her to leave, even though she’s way past the age of being there. Hell, she hates her mother for sticking her there in the first place. So, Aileen was subjected to the nuisances of the students and faculty in the Coven. Always having a sharp word on her tongue, Aileen isn’t afraid to let everyone know just how much she dislikes being there. She watches from the sidelines as the other banshees try to raise up in arms, rolling her eyes as she remains annoyed with how much her kind keeps complaining. So why doesn’t she just run? There’s nobody stopping her, after all. Perhaps that’s because Aileen is afraid. No, not afraid—terrified. Terrified of what is out there. Terrified that the visions and the whispering will come back and she won’t be able to control it. So she’s trying… Trying to master her banshee abilities so she can finally leave and live in peace. If that’s even a possibility for her anymore.
✗ Connections ;
In all honestly, the only reason Aileen first ever approached Alistair was because she found him attractive. Could you blame her? With his midnight-colored hair and bright, indigo eyes, she knew that she wanted a taste of that man before anyone else got in the way. But what she had come across was a witch she hadn’t expected to find—and even more surprising, she saw that she actually could stand around him without being annoyed immensely. Soon enough, a spark ignited between the two and Aileen found herself a friend in a place she never thought she’d come across. It was a mutual relationship and one that worked out perfectly fine. Aileen could ramble on, complaining about this or that because she knew that Alistair would listen. And he would actually listen. Even if he had his nose buried in a book, he was always there to respond to her criticisms or play Devil’s Advocate if the situation called for it. He didn’t judge her and for that, she was incredibly thankful. She knew that he was a solitary man, but it worked out because, for the most part, she was a solitary woman. He was nice to look at and he was always there to offer some sort of irrelevant information or provide a listening ear. It was a quiet, nice friendship, but it was one that Aileen wondered where it would go. Did he feel something between them as she did? She didn’t mean to be silly or too girly, but she couldn’t help it. What had first started out as a man to claim as a notch on her bedpost had turned into a friendship she’d do anything to protect, even if it came across that she didn’t care. But she was starting to like him—she truly was—and she was actually afraid to pursue it. What if he turned her down? She’d lose her only true friend in this God forsaken place and then maybe she’d finally go insane.
Her face claim is Phoebe Tonkin and she is currently open.
"Chin up, shoulders back, smiles bright.”
✗ Basic Information ;
- Species → Witch
- Age → 26
- Skill → Duplication & Spell Casting
- Level → Four
- Occupation → Advanced Spells Professor
- Roommate(s) → Lives with Sasha Versace.
- Residency Status → Born & Raised.
✗ Personality ;
+ Educated, calm, elegant, strong-willed.
- Resentful, vain, blunt, antisocial.
✗ History ;
Being born into the Coven, one is automatically shown where they stand. You are told who you are, what you are, and how you will be received for the rest of your life. And if you think for a second that you have a choice in this matter, you’re wrong. No one here ever gets to decide their fate. Laine Versace discovered that fact at a young age. The age of twelve, to be exact. This discovery wasn’t brought on by some traumatic event, nor was it spelled out to her. No, Laine had to look hard at those around her before she ever realized the hierarchy cemented in her family. But once she noticed it, it never really left her mind. It was noticeable everywhere she looked. She could see it in the Elder’s eyes, the certainty of the power they held not only with their magic but with their namesake as well. Names seemed to be very important around the Coven, and even as a child it left a horrid taste in the back of her throat. She was a Versace, born into one of the most powerful families the Coven had ever seen. That gave her power over others of her kind, though she was never quite sure how.
But being a Versace didn’t only give Laine power, it gave her responsibility and duties. She was expected to act a certain way, and to never speak out of line. She, along with her brother, were to be trained to join the ranks of the Coven’s Elders one day. That meant brewing potions day in and day out, and reciting spells over and over again until her jaw ached from overuse. It meant putting all of her time and effort into her training, and working hard to make her parents proud. Her training pulled off, however. And soon enough Laine had perfected not only her power of duplication, but she had a serious knack for spell casting as well. But none of her accomplishments could sway her parents from their decision to marry her off to a Neros. While her parents had told her of her arranged marriage to Tobias, she’d never paid much mind to it. She even thought that if she just ignored the entire situation, it would go away. It was obvious to see that Tobias, like her, did not want to be married off. And she hoped that maybe her parents would cancel the entire thing.
Her prayers went unanswered, however. The wedding is still on. And Laine has finally realized that there isn’t anything she can do about it. It is set in stone, just like everything else in this house. She couldn’t stop it anymore that she could take away her own magic. A part of her, the part she never lets the world see, hates that she will never get to live her own life. She wishes she could shake the chains of the Versace name, and be rid of all responsibility that comes with it. But the rational part of her knows that this is a stupid, childish wish. She must live the life that she was dealt, and she must marry Tobias Neros with a smile on her face. And if in the dark of her bedroom, she silently curses her parents, her ancestors, and her home…well that is her own secret. One that will never see the light of day.
✗ Connections ;
For Laine, Sasha has always been the one she could say anything to. Though they don’t always get along, Sasha is there for her when she needs him. When she can’t stand her parents’ commands, or Tobias’ indifference any longer, it is always Sasha that Laine runs to. He always seems to know exactly when and how to comfort her. He doesn’t judge her, he doesn’t push her into things, and he never tries to make her into something she is not. And when Laine doesn’t think she can hold her tongue any longer, it’s Sasha who helps her keep a lid on her emotions. For that, Laine will forever be grateful. And there isn’t anything she couldn’t do for her brother. If anything, Laine wishes she could be as cool, calm, and collected like Sasha was. It was strange, but she looked up to her older brother in a different light. He was her role model. He was the person that if anything went bump in the night or she felt like she was going to pull her hair out of her head she’d go to. In the world of being a Versace, Sasha was the only person who could make her feel like she was more than that. He could make her feel like she was herself and he never pressured her. He never asked her to be more than she was and he understood how angry she was about the whole arranged marriage deal. He also saw how compliant she was about the whole ordeal, holding her hand through it all together. Sasha was her anchor. Without him, she may as well be a raging tsunami.
Though some might think differently, Laine doesn’t actually blame Tobias for their arranged marriage. She doesn’t hate him, or hold any negative feelings towards him at all. That said, she doesn’t like being near him either. She’ll put on a good show for her parents and for the Elders, of course. But if she could, she’d steer clear of him for the rest of her life. He is a constant reminder of the choices she can’t make for herself, and that both angers and pains her. She does hope that eventually she’ll learn to make being around him easier, since they’ll be stuck together for the rest of their lives. Sometimes, the young witch finds herself staring at the ceiling and wondering what it would be like. Could she fall in love with Tobias? Could she bear his children and live a happy life? But she knows that it’s impossible. She could try and fall for him, but it would be useless. She doesn’t feel anything for him and she doesn’t want to feel anything for him. He was just another witch in this whole grand scheme of things. She knows that he doesn’t want the marriage either, but if he is useless to fight against it, then what does that make her? Why doesn’t he want the marriage? What is he hiding? As bad as it is, it makes Laine far more curious than she should be. As bad as it is, Laine finds herself investigating more about the Neros kid. She kept trying to figure out who he was and who he would become. He had to be hiding something. She wasn’t sure why, but she just got the feeling. So she tried her best at gaining control over her power. Two heads were better than one—and two Laine’s were better for snooping then one, that was for sure.
Her face claim is Tatiana Maslany and she is currently open.
"Go where you are celebrated – not tolerated. If they can’t see the real value of you, it’s time for a new start."
✗ Basic Information ;
- Species → Witch
- Age → 21
- Skill → Precognition
- Level → Two
- Occupation → Unemployed
- Roommate(s) → Lives with Elijah Versace
- Residency Status → Born & Raised.
✗ Personality ;
+ Flirtatious, charismatic, supportive, humble.
- Tentative, insensitive, submissive, righteous.
✗ History ;
He leaned forward slowly, very slowly as if he was giving the man a glimpse of a chance to escape what was about to come, or perhaps to make sure his motive and the man’s were in harmony. He sighed in contentment, his arms tightening around the blonde’s waist as he captured the man’s lips with his. Somewhere in the endless spinning of eternity that one, tiny, fraction of a second where their lips met was entirely lost. The night was more than memorable. Grant needed someone to remind him not jump too high into anything. To remind him that the crash landing would be painful. Because that night was not memorable. It was life-changing. And through most of the young man’s life, “life-changing” was anything but foreign to him. It was life-changing when his mother divorced his father only to marry a woman two weeks later. It was life-changing when his mother, after going to Thailand with her newly wedded wife, came back to her son with a surprise; an adopted daughter. It was life-changing when his mother committed suicide after two years of being happily married and with no sign of any sadness inhabiting her heart. And of course, it was life-changing when he had a dream of his mother pulling the trigger of the gun set against the temple of her head the night before his mother’s suicide.
Grant nestled his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder and sighed. Born and raised in the Coven, Grant always had an eerie feeling at the tip of his toes that he was different. Not in terms of his sexual orientation, or even his mother’s marriage, or the fact his magical abilities. In fact, his childhood had been pretty normal. He watched the same generic television shows his classmates watched, hung out with nearly every kid that grew up with him, and had the same mind most seven year old children had at that time. But there were instances where a déjà vu moment turned into more than just a repetitive feeling. Visions and dreams of the possible future had been a curse and a blessing given to Grant. That’s why he decided to take on an auction guest’s outlook on life. For them, every moment, every opportunity, every event is treated like their last, like life or death, like do or die. They’re all like rebellious teenagers, dreaming as if they’d live forever, living as if they might perish the very next minute. Especially for that moment when their desirable treasure comes on the stage. This treasure represents the best and worst of the guest’s entire night: the soaring expectations and the crippling rejections; the tender heart-skip of the first bet, the slight frown of the second bet, and the completely savage snarl after the third bet.
Never once in his life had the man felt important, significant in a oh-so large universe. Empty and worthless, Grant took every opportunity he got to feel something — anything. In his high school years, Grant decided to go to a human school to experience something more and fell dangerously in love with any guy who would just notice him. A simple “Hi!” would send the poor brunet head-over-heels. As if he needed more trauma in his life by trapping himself in a love bubble, convincing himself that it would always remain pink and pretty. He knew better however. Knew that the chances of himself with a guy was one to nonexistent. But he couldn’t help himself. Grant craved, and still craves, attention from men, the embrace, the warmth that comes with being in close contact with one. But apparently, everything around him seemed to mock him in derision of failure. So in the years after graduating the four year jail he was so desperately wanted to experience, Grant made it his mission to leave his submissive life and enter the world as a new man. He didn’t want to be needy but instead needed. But inside the polished shell he has created, exists the same old self-conscious sixteen year old boy who desires nothing more than to be in peace with himself.
✗ Connections ;
They say love only happens once. Romantically, that is. But how could that be? An emotion so grand, so meaningful to another’s life… How could you love just one person? When Grant started seeing Tobias, most thought he started loving his former fiance, choosing a stranger over a guy he once called his soul mate. But that’s not the case. He never stopped loving Tobias and until this day, he does. But what others seemed to forget was his side of the story. The side where he needed to hide his feelings and affections whenever they were around so Tobias’ mother wouldn’t find out. The side where no matter what he said or did, Tobias would never stand up to his mother and proclaim their love like his twenty-year old self did. But people dismissed his side of the story the minute rumors spread about his infatuation with the Human Studies Professor became known. Grant loves both men. Whether they liked the idea of his heart belonging to both… Well, that’s an issue they’ll just have to get over with. When Tobias decides to be open about his love, Grant will surely welcome him with open arms while holding Elijah’s hand.
Immediately upon spotting him, Elijah was a subject of fascination. His rough face and voice was nothing like it seemed, but it contrived “beauty” the human world craves today. He began attending the man’s classes whenever possible, curiously watching him from afar, intrigued by the man’s passion with his profession. Throughout this time, Grant felt drawn to Elijah, remembering vague memories of his when he was still in relationship with his ex-fiance, and falling for him slowly until he had enough of just staring and wanted more doing. Their catalyst relationship seemed to happen overnight. And after a one-night stand, the two haven’t been able to keep their hands away from each other since.The pattern for their relation is quite easy to understand: crying, yelling, sobbing, thrown objects, Grant storming out, Elijah dragging the man back, and then finishing off with viciously passionate make-up sex that leaves others around their room calling for animal control and Elijah’s back bleeding through his t-shirt. The only solid about their relationship is the permanent ink on Grant’ left hip, baring his boyfriend’s name. Fights between the two lovers are of the norm but regardless, both know that without each other their lives wouldn’t be the same.
His face claim is Nico Tortorella and he is currently open.