eclecticwitch

Something like "Skins (UK version). (High casual & seeking a CO-GM)

Question - Like the first season of skins?

Strings

The morning started out for her as most mornings did. A gentle paw with just a hint of claw scratched lightly at her cheek. When she opened her eyes she found a magnificent pair of gold eye peering down at her through the deep grey of dawn. “Good morning Fezzik,” she said in sleep slurred speech. The giant Maine Coon chirrped at her and she patted the fluffy beast. Noemi allowed herself a few more minutes to wake while curled up beneath her warm comforter.

After the morning routine of showering and dressing, the young woman moved into her living room to find both of her cats sitting patiently beside the cabinet in the kitchen. It was only when she popped open the can of wet food that they danced, wove, and sang around her legs. It only quieted somewhat when she placed their bowls down from them. Fizzgig was a happy eater and talked while he ate.

Avocado toast and a cup of coffee was brought to the windows which led to the fire escape. She sat on the window seat there and watched the world begin to come to life. It was slow at first. A person leaving here or there and lights coming on in apartments and homes. Fezzik came to join her but was much more interested in the birds that alighted on the fire escape rails for a brief respite.

Breakfast done, the young woman bid her cats goodbye, pulled on her thick winter overcoat, knitted hat with matching scarf, and furred boots. Off she went out into the morning. The cloudy grey sky was typical of an early spring day in Boston. Snow still clung to the sidewalks, dirtied by the streets. Noemi watched her breath come out as steam and thick as dragon’s smoke. She was lucky enough to live a fifteen minute walk from her work and it even included crossing through a small park.

As she made her way down to the end of her street, a car rolled backward out of an auto mechanic’s shop and was immediately hit by another car. There was yelling and swearing and all sorts of to do. Noemi watched with curiosity for only a few moments, wondering if she could get by the usual way. It seemed today the universe was telling her to go a different path.

With a shrug, she headed off down a side street only to find a group of teenage boys of the thugerous persuasion. Noemi tried not to judge people by the clothes they wore but there had been reports of purse snatching in the area lately. She didn’t carry a purse but a mugging was never out of the question. As she approached them it became apparent they were having a heated argument. One of them was gesticulating wildly while another pointed a finger at him. Their voices rose to a shout and she stopped a few feet from them, preparing to turn and walk away.

“Hey, yo, Miss,” one of the boys called out before she could move.

“Y-yes?”

“What is the plural of moose?” She stared at the boy, stunned. Was this all the arguing as about?

“It is also moose, I believe.”

“See, told you Reg. Momma didn’t raise no idiot.” The sour, angry faces turned to smiles. Laughter and teasing ensued while Noemi felt more at ease passing by them. How silly to have gotten so caught up in her own thoughts. To think she would have thought they meant to harm her. They were just boys.

Turning down the next street she heard the shout of, “Thanks Miss!” Noemi giggled to herself. It was moments later that she entered the park she normally went through. Checking her watch she found she was going to be late if she didn't hurry. She speed walked down the brick path all while attempting to avoid patches of ice. Her mind was so concentrated on where she was to place her feet that she barely got out of the way in time for a tiny, yapping dachshund to bite at a much larger rottweiler. The big dog seemed confused at first and backed away. The dachshund continued its onslaught as its panicked owner ran after with the leash the small dog had slipped.

The big dog’s owner was trying to pull away from the fight but the dachshund managed to get teeth into the big dog’s ear. The rottie yelped then growled, now invested in harming that which harmed him. Noemi rushed forward and pulled the tiny dog off the larger one who proceeded to close its mouth around her arm. It was brief and left no more than slobber on her thick coat jacket.

The woman pulled her dachshund out of Noemi’s grasp and cooed and cuddled it. She then began yelling at the man about his menace of a dog. He had even bit that nice lady there. The rottie owner yelled back about her little savage dog. Yelling, screaming, and Noemi was late. She sighed and backed away from the pair. There were threats of police involvement and the big dog’s ear was bleeding. Noemi only got a few paces away when the rottie owner caught her upper arm.

“Please, a moment. Can I get your info as a witness?”

“Oh. Um, of course.” She dug through her pocket and pulled out a little notebook. Once her name and number were on the paper she pulled it from the book and handed it to the man.

“I’m sorry my dog got you. Are you hurt at all?”

“Nope, just fine, see?” She showed him the coat was merely a bit wet. “I don’t think he meant any real damage.” Noemi smiled brightly and the man relaxed and smiled back.

“Well, as a token of apology…” He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed one of the tickets from within to her. “I work there so I get extra tickets to hand out. Thanks and so sorry again.”

“Oh gosh, wow. Thank you this is awful kind.”

“Not at all.” He bid her goodbye and went off to deal with cranky dachshund lady. Noemi skipped off to work, marveling in the mysterious way the universe worked.

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi

Her white gold eyes watched Faeril leave as she mentioned confusion at the knock. The young queen stayed in the kitchen as this was none of her business. Sipping down the last of her tea she began to feel strange. Something grew and pulled within her chest. Maybe she was just tired. Yes. Perhaps. She rubbed her hands over her face before standing and pulling the blanket more closely around her shoulders. As she stood the feeling became more prominent inside of her. As the door opened a thing she had denied since her birth filled her.

Fatima’s mother had once warned her of this feeling. She could remember sitting on the couch before a fire. It was one of those rare times her mother could be affectionate. The woman had wrapped her tiny, child Queen daughter and held her upon her lap. Stroking her hair, she began to explain the way the heart and soul would call out to those destined to be a part of her court. To those that belonged solely to her and no one else. Men who would do everything she asked. Gently smoothing the child’s hair she would warn the danger that lay with her creating her own court. The fear she should feel and potential death which could come from Dorothea’s hands. She would become competition in stepping up to this call. She would be ripe for the slaughter. Tortured.

Run. Run she had been warned. When that feeling began she should attempt to get as far away as possible. Run and live another day. Never form a court. Never…

It was gnawing at her and leaned heavily against the table as her legs threatened to go out from beneath her. Confusion and desperation filled her. Panic. She had to get away. But to where? She struggled to keep herself upright. It was not as if she could go anywhere. The men she had trusted with her life previously were gone. Fatima had no one she knew and knew her. She was trapped here within the eyrie. She moved around the table as her chest seized up. She couldn’t breathe. Fatima gasped for air as the voices at the door drifted past her. She couldn’t make sense of it as fear turned her innards to water. She crumpled to the floor and attempted to catch her breath while panic gripped her tightly. This was her end and as she lay on the floor, the warm blanket fell from her, and a cold she had never known clasped her tightly.

What was she so afraid of? Wasn’t she meant to form a court now? The things she had been warned away from held no place now. She didn’t have anyone she could really and truly trust now. And in her mother’s own words, this feeling and the men who would be drawn to her would keep her safe. She could trust this. Her lungs gulped down the air and her shaking subsided. She needed to do something. Anything. Her nerves were frayed in this strange home amongst strangers. She knew no one here and had no true assurance that her life was safe. Grasping the edge of the table, Fatima pulled herself from her prone position on the ground. She pulled the blanket around herself again and steadied her balance.

She felt a bit silly, letting the panic control her in the way it did. She needed something normal to help herself feel less in danger. To help her feel like she could trust what was happening to her. She moved across the room the to stove and stirred the stew. Once satisfied that it was in no danger of burning she removed it from the flame and turned off the stove.

Taking a deep, shuttering breath she stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall. Closer to that thing which sung inside of her and drew her. That drew him. The blanket slipped from her shoulders as she caught sight of him. There were the Eyrian boys, moving into the house and toward the promise of warmth and food. However, all she could see was the man that Faeril stared down. Would make sure that he would never harm those she protected. And Fatima understood that she was one of those. And… in those few moments she truly felt safe. Faeril would allow no one close that was not worthy. But this man was hers. Worthy without a doubt. This man was… hers.

Mine.

Mine.

Fatima glided across the hall to the door. Her steps were small and measured. Her energy was that of pure Queen. The tiny woman slid past Faeril easily and lifted her hands. They slide up Lucivar’s chest as if attempting to confirm he was real. And they found he was no apparition. Slim, bronzed fingers curled around the soaked cloth of his shirt and pulled him closer so that she could more easily see his face. He was nearly twice her own height. She did not think about how he moved easily under the command of her hands. Her pale gold eyes searched amber. She felt the stubble of a long day on his face and stroked along his cheekbones at the end of her reach. “Welcome home,” she breathed – shocked by the way this feeling swept through her.

He was hers.

Mine.

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Flinching, she set the cup down carefully upon the table so that it would not make any noise. She supposed perhaps the woman had thought she had meant something sarcastic or did not appreciate the kindness Faeril had shown her. Her mind spun out in many different directions so that she could figure out how to rectify such an error. The woman spoke again, which soothed the young Queen.

"Ah, I see," she responded with a light laugh. Fiddling with her cup she said, "My mother could be the same. Though if she was in a mood, it was best to avoid her for the whole day." The tea went down smoothly and warmed her from the stomach out. "I am sure they will. I hope my... the boys did not hurt your clan too much - or at all. Though I would have doubts."

She leaned back in her chair, settling hands on her lap. "Tell me a little about yourself? Or, if you aren't ready yet that is okay too. Even if it is a little something, I would love to share in things. I mean, you know quite a bit about me." Fatima rubbed her temple lightly, remembering the sensation of the invasion - though permission had been granted.

Blood's Jewels (Closed)

Welcome!!!

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

Oooooh, I did not know!

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

Rainbow bridge is where dead pets go. What??

Strings

Mateo had taken the time to lovingly place log after log into the fireplace. Each one was positioned so the flames may eat them but to also give air flow. He had the experience from the last ten years of building fires into the same hearth to help him. Beneath the logs were old newspapers and important documents which could only be destroyed by an incinerator to keep things safe. Atop the mantle sat a large box of long matches. Picking them up he crouched once again before the logs, struck the match, and lit the papers aflame.

He watched as the fire consumed paper and sensually licked at the logs before finding purchase there. Closing the grate, so as to not burn down his quite expensive penthouse, he went around to the wall of books. His personal study was a sanctuary of knowledge. It held a large mahogany desk littered with law tomes and case papers. His walls were made of bookcases holding all sorts of the written word from smutty romances to geographical maps. Nothing was beyond his interest.

His fingers skimmed over hardback covers, some of them ancient first prints worth more than the penthouse itself. At last his thin, piano fingers found a tome that appeared far older than it was. Animal Farm. He had read this book so many times that the spine was cracked and some of the pages were beginning to fall away from the glue. Someday he would have to replace it. For now, his beloved childhood book was just perfect the way it was. When he had first read it, he had simply enjoyed the animals being in charge of their own farm. In his adulthood, he began to understand the themes.

He settled into his large, leather, winged armchair near the flames. Beside him was a decanter of scotch which he poured over ice. Mateo lay his book down upon his lap and removed a metal case of cigarettes from his inner jacket pocket. Smoothly he lit one up, sipped the liquor, and opened his novel in the anticipation of an uninterrupted read on a rare Thursday off.

All was going well for about an hour and a half until his door opened and then slammed shut. He jumped slightly, causing the last of his second cigarette’s ash to fall to the floor. He quickly stuffed it out in a nearby ashtray before bookmarking his page.

“Mateo!” a feminine voiced called from the hall. The middle-aged man could not help but groan. With a sigh and in preparation for a headache, he lifted himself from his comfortable chair. He opened his study door and as he made his way down the hall the perfume of her hit him before the sight of the woman did. She was slender and frail looking but with a good build that complimented all her assets. She had always worn her hair in blonde, beachy curls and only the slightest hint of makeup to accentuate immaculately curated features. Her dress was bright red, her coat real fox fur, and her smile as fake as Barbie’s.

The lawyer returned the smile to the best of his abilities while his mother threw her arms about his neck. She kissed both of his cheeks with her obligatory statement of “Kiss, kiss,” before standing back and holding the taller man’s shoulders.

“How did you get in?” he asked kindly. His heart and his head were seriously annoyed.

“I made a copy, but never mind that! Oh, my darling son! You won’t believe the news!” The woman was full of fervor and ecstasy so there was no helping his mandated reply.

“Yes, what is it mother?” She wanted him to ask. She so obviously needed him to ask.

“I will, I will, but do give your dear mother a drink. It is frightfully cold outside.” The woman took off her coat and scarf only to drop them on the floor. Mateo led her to the immediate left, a sitting room designed for meeting clients. It was comfortable and quite bland. Soft blue, white, and brown colors adorned fabrics and walls alike. To the small bar at the side of the room he went and poured his mother her usual vodka and soda.

Once this life reviving drink was in her hands and she had taken a sip, she began her tale. “Well, at the office there was a giveaway. You put in more money and the more you spent the more tickets you would get. Obviously, I couldn’t let Carol or Bridget (‘the alcoholic,’ she muttered beneath her breath) win.” She went on to spout some very nasty things of both women before continuing, “So I put in a grand for this raffle. Oh! Your father will shoot me, but it’s worth it. And what would you know I won the grand prize! And Ooooooh,” she sighed in a far too sexual manner, “The looks on their faces when I walked up to receive it. You know I made sure to wear…” Mateo was beginning to drown her out despite his best efforts to listen. After some time he heard the words, “And would you have it, I won tickets to the masquerade! I am, of course, attached most devotedly to your father. But I thought you could use them to find a good woman to keep your house.”

His mother began to dig through her tiny purse. There was no way she hadn’t come upon the ticket by now but she took her time. “Aha!” The blonde pulled the ticket out and offered it to her only son. “You had better use this,” she said in a dark and commanding tone. Even her face showed him that she meant business or he would wind up with the woman in his house, complaining, for a month. “Or I shall be quite disappointed.”

“Yes, of course mother. I wouldn’t dream of anything but your happiness. You worked so hard to get this.” He would reserve the eye rolling and annoyance for after she had left.

“Good boy. You must… no… You WILL call me directly after in the morning to let me know how it went.”

“Of course mother.”

“Now I must be off, or I’ll be late to my hair appointment. Take care of yourself love. Kiss kiss.” With that she was out the door without another word or sentiment. Mateo stared at the ticket and groaned while his eyes moved toward the ceiling. He didn’t need this foolishness right now. He couldn’t even come close to wanting it.

The lawyer walked back to his office, sat in that winged chair, and pulled out his cell phone to call his secretary. The line rang for a few moments before the answer of “Black and Bidwell, how may I help you?” came clear across the line.

“Tell me, Abigail, there must be some urgent matter that needs my attention.”

“Let me look sir.” He could hear the shufflings of papers and the clacks of the computer as she looked through the notes. The long silence while this happened made his heart fall as doubts of relief crept in. “No, nothing sir.”

“Not even anything I could do pro-bono?”

“I’m afraid not sir.” Her tone was sympathetic, and she dared to whisper, “Delilah?”

“Fucking Delilah,” he responded. “Remind me to change my locks tomorrow.”

“Yes of course sir.”

“Enjoy your day.”

“You too, sir.”

He hung up the phone, took a long drag of scotch, and then poured himself another glass.

Strings

Noemi

Thirty ● Female ● Heterosexual

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summary

A little witchling with a bad case of Pixie Dream Girl syndrome.

brief history

She came into this world quite as naturally as any other. Her blessing was to be born at home with a midwife. Her family was all there, and the process was quite smooth beneath the lights of the candles. It was a warm summer night when she was born. The stars glittered and glowed. The moon shone full and bright. Her mother was a craftswoman. She did woodworking and created beautiful furniture. Her father was a man of business and ran a midsize company. The two, while intrinsically opposites, completed each other in exactly the way a soulmate should. Since a young age, when she began to understand things like love, she hoped to share such a mutually adoring relationship.

Her mother often urged her to find the sorts of thing Noemi would like to do, as hobbies. It became abundantly clear the child showed deep love and enjoyment for anything she put her hand to. Gardening, soapmaking, reading, and rock collecting all became a few that stuck with her throughout her life. The hobby she adored most though was photography. Her mother suggested she make this her profession but Noemi fears that things like deadlines or demands put onto her would cause her to lose joy in it. Instead, she opted to become a librarian within one of the colleges. This allowed her the delight of books and the soothing art of sorting them. She is most pleased to help a student track down a rare tome.

In her free time as an independent woman of the world, Noemi enjoys helping at the homeless shelter. She is a sweet, smiling, and non-judging face amongst the many in the city. She also takes time to do her photography, walking in parks or taking day trips to the seaside. As when she was young this would continue to be her true passion. She goes to farmer markets and festivals around town - no matter the sort it is always an adventure. Noemi also enjoys spending time at home with her cats Fizzgig and Fezzik. She carries a flip phone since she has no use for the apps and notifications found in smartphones. She would much rather wander through life with her eyes wide open. Her favorite weather is foggy. Her favorite book is Jane Eyre. And she loves to burn incense, watch the flame of a candle, and drink tea as any modern witch should. She is a wild and free spirit. A fairy who floats and flits on the breeze. Her world is magical. Every day a new surprise. She is the sort of girl on which the poets of old wrote.

strings

⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓐𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝔀𝓼⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{I simply adore her with all of my heart. Judith is a lioness. She is so kind and gentle towards me that I think of her like a second mother. Fierce, confident, and sometimes a bit silly, I could not imagine my life without this spectacular person.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓐𝓷𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓛𝓵𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{He's like the grumpy old wizard with a heart of gold trope. Sometimes he can come off as a bit brusk but I know he is a big ol' sweetie. I love to listen to him talk and when he does that thing with the corner of his mouth with his half smile. I admit, I sometimes wish I could be attached to his red string but value our friendship too much to ever say so. I mean, how could you not fall, even slightly, for a man who has literally traveled the world for love. And speaks poems as easily as a breath.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓚𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓷 𝓢𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{She is like a fairytale princess come to life. She works so hard to help everyone she meets. She does so much for the community here and I hope that one day I can do even half of what she does. I hold her up as the person I strive to be like. She is one of the best people I know.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝓗𝓾𝓪𝓷𝓰⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{A good friend who needs looking after. He is so very smart and so much to offer the world. The thing keeping him back is the tendency to live in his own head. I love to show him the little things in life that lead from moment to moment. I only hope I can give him a small comfort. As next door neighbors it is easy to invite him over and we have many a laugh over tea and watching the kitties make fools of themselves. He is a good man and I adore him. I just wished he used his eyes to see the delights of the world before the questions his brain thrusts upon him.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓣𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓦𝓮𝓫𝓫𝓮𝓻 ⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{A dear and future friend}

other information

dialogue colour: #D87093
faceclaim: Emmy Rossum
theme song:Savage Daughter as sung by Meade Elspeth

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Mateo

Thirty-Seven ● Male ● Heteroflexible

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summary

A playboy lawyer who is warm and kind but never truly open.

brief history

He was born to a relationship made of an oil fire with water thrown atop. His parents were two very different people in the upper-crust of society. His mother was old money and his father owned a massive tech company. Both were traditionalists but in very different ways. There was many a night the boy would go to sleep with their screaming matches turned moans in the background. His parent's constant bickering made it hard for him to be around them when they were together. Apart things were of course much calmer. He went away to a boarding school through his school years and eventually attended Yale. He found that life as a lawyer suited him quite well. He was good at debate and persuasion. In the last year, he has started his own law firm with an old friend.

Mateo dabbled in many a shallow relationship with the young women he met. Three months of a hot, steamy, and passionate romance were killed by his inability to profess any sort of true love. He found himself quite jaded in what it meant to have a soulmate. He could not stand the thought that he might have that sort of firey relationship his parents had. Instead, his dalliances always led to absolute nothingness.

He loves coffee and toast for breakfast. Plays the piano very well. Mateo smokes cigarettes but has no taste for cigars. He enjoys a good scotch by a roaring fireplace while reading up on cases. He has a fine eye for shoes and prefers smokey or leathery scents. He has never been with a man, no has had any thought of doing so. However, it is possible to fall in love with a person without a care of the physical. Mateo is a confident, self-assured man who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it. He is passionate in everything he does and nothing is too small to go beneath his notice. A man who is easy to smile and welcome others warmly, he hardly shows his own true feelings.

strings

⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓼𝓸𝓷 ⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{She is a true Amazon. All working women should strive to be like her. Strong, independent, and reliable. A down to earth woman who tells it straight. She might mean mug you, but I've learned it's all a show. Evie is a good friend and always there for a person. And sometimes I have to remind her she deserves the finer things in life. She's worked hard, she's earned it. Even if I have to buy it for her.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓢𝓪𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓪 𝓥𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓮𝔂𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓻⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Coming soon}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓣𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓟𝓪𝔁𝓽𝓸𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{I help tp legally maintain a gentleman's fun and ensure pleasure can be found for anyone who enters IMPULSE. This includes the dancers as well, getting them out of legal so and so's. Tate himself is a good man, albeit a man of his upbringing. This make him a man of his own design though, and there is something strong and to admire. He is the sort of guy who will have your back through thick and thin. A truly reliable person... even when it comes to a few unsavory things.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}

other information

dialogue colour: #8FBC8F
faceclaim: Joseph Gordon-Levitt
theme song: Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve

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Strings

Noemi

Thirty ● Female ● Heterosexual

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

summary

A little witchling with a bad case of Pixie Dream Girl syndrome.

brief history

She came into this world quite as naturally as any other. Her blessing was to be born at home with a midwife. Her family was all there, and the process was quite smooth beneath the lights of the candles. It was a warm summer night when she was born. The stars glittered and glowed. The moon shone full and bright. Her mother was a craftswoman. She did woodworking and created beautiful furniture. Her father was a man of business and ran a midsize company. The two, while intrinsically opposites, completed each other in exactly the way a soulmate should. Since a young age, when she began to understand things like love, she hoped to share such a mutually adoring relationship.

Her mother often urged her to find the sorts of thing Noemi would like to do, as hobbies. It became abundantly clear the child showed deep love and enjoyment for anything she put her hand to. Gardening, soapmaking, reading, and rock collecting all became a few that stuck with her throughout her life. The hobby she adored most though was photography. Her mother suggested she make this her profession but Noemi fears that things like deadlines or demands put onto her would cause her to lose joy in it. Instead, she opted to become a librarian within one of the colleges. This allowed her the delight of books and the soothing art of sorting them. She is most pleased to help a student track down a rare tome.

In her free time as an independent woman of the world, Noemi enjoys helping at the homeless shelter. She is a sweet, smiling, and non-judging face amongst the many in the city. She also takes time to do her photography, walking in parks or taking day trips to the seaside. As when she was young this would continue to be her true passion. She goes to farmer markets and festivals around town - no matter the sort it is always an adventure. Noemi also enjoys spending time at home with her cats Fizzgig and Fezzik. She carries a flip phone since she has no use for the apps and notifications found in smartphones. She would much rather wander through life with her eyes wide open. Her favorite weather is foggy. Her favorite book is Jane Eyre. And she loves to burn incense, watch the flame of a candle, and drink tea as any modern witch should. She is a wild and free spirit. A fairy who floats and flits on the breeze. Her world is magical. Every day a new surprise. She is the sort of girl on which the poets of old wrote.

strings

⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓐𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝔀𝓼⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{I simply adore her with all of my heart. Judith is a lioness. She is so kind and gentle towards me that I think of her like a second mother. Fierce, confident, and sometimes a bit silly, I could not imagine my life without this spectacular person.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
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⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓚𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓷 𝓢𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{She is like a fairytale princess come to life. She works so hard to help everyone she meets. She does so much for the community here and I hope that one day I can do even half of what she does. I hold her up as the person I strive to be like.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}

other information

dialogue colour: #D87093
faceclaim: Emmy Rossum
theme song:Savage Daughter as sung by Meade Elspeth

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Mateo

Thirty-Seven ● Male ● Heteroflexible

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summary

A playboy lawyer who is warm and kind but never truely open.

brief history

He was born to a relationship made of an oil fire with water thrown atop. His parents were two very different people in the upper-crust of society. His mother was old money and his father owned a massive tech company. Both were traditionalists but in very different ways. There was many a night the boy would go to sleep with their screaming matches turned moans in the background. His parent's constant bickering made it hard for him to be around them when they were together. Apart things were of course much calmer. He went away to a boarding school through his school years and eventually attended Yale. He found that life as a lawyer suited him quite well. He was good at debate and persuasion. In the last year, he has started his own law firm with an old friend.

Mateo dabbled in many a shallow relationship with the young women he met. Three months of a hot, steamy, and passionate romance were killed by his inability to profess any sort of true love. He found himself quite jaded in what it meant to have a soulmate. He could not stand the thought that he might have that sort of firey relationship his parents had. Instead, his dalliances always led to absolute nothingness.

He loves coffee and toast for breakfast. Plays the piano very well. Mateo smokes cigarettes but has no taste for cigars. He enjoys a good scotch by a roaring fireplace while reading up on cases. He has a fine eye for shoes and prefers smokey or leathery scents. He has never been with a man, no has had any thought of doing so. However, it is possible to fall in love with a person without a care of the physical. Mateo is a confident, self-assured man who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it. He is passionate in everything he does and nothing is too small to go beneath his notice. A man who is easy to smile and welcome others warmly, he hardly shows his own true feelings.

strings

⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}
⎯⎯⎯⎯𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷⎯⎯⎯⎯
^{Character's thoughts on this person here.}

other information

dialogue colour: #8FBC8F
faceclaim: Joseph Gordon-Levitt
theme song: Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve

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