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𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼
BLACKHARBOUR
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 _______________________________________________  𝒫𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒷𝑒 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 | pansexual | oct 23 | salem massachusetts | #AF2251 ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ twenty one | ♂ | 5'5" | 131 lbs ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ + confident | observant | cool, calm & calculating | ambitious - arrogant | bitchy & irritable | manipulative | questionable & untrustworthy ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ α p p є α r α n c є ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ꜱʜɪᴛᴛʏ ɢᴏᴛʜ ɢɪʀʟ. Curvaceous, thicc girl with a little pudge that she pretends not to care about but is constantly on the lookout for remedies to fix. sigh another time, perhaps. standing at a whopping 5'5 - 5'8"+ depending on her shoes. long, wavy locks the color of fresh ink - not unlike the ink littering her body - cascades down to the middle of her upper back, the underside is buzzed short. but the length is kept atop her head so that she can look somewhat presentable; should high society call for it. skin permanently kissed by the sun that gives her a subtle bronze glow, creating the illusion that her tattoos are alive. breathing even. depending on how you look at them. some observable, some not so easily spotted. freckles dot her body, but the more noticeable ones would be the ones that occupy the space under her eyes and atop her cheeks. she's actually quite pleased and proud of those. her eyes a mossy green, but when the light catches it juuuuust right, they almost seem like crystallized honey. Full lips, always painted in some shade of color, typically in darker tones; but she isn't one to be too picky. full brows, long lashes - all natural - she'll be the first to assure you. though, should she choose to pay for such amenities, she totally could. her septum is pierced along with sporting dolphin piercings. Phoibe can be spotted strolling through the town or on campus in her usual attire of what looks to be uncomfortable attire. though it is very much comfortable; at least it is to her. her fashion jumps around from being sleek and put together to being messy and grungy. she’s not a fan of preppy, frilly styles. fishnets and other leggings and hosiery is a staple. she has a small collection of platformed shoes of different style - but a collection nonetheless. Rings and different necklaces and bracelets line her appendages. something that she is prone to fiddling with whenever the subconscious need arises which is a lot of the time. very much plays into the wiccan and romani vibes that she embraces of her culture.  ➽➽➽➽ Patience is a virtue; one that she toes the line with. Especially when it comes to the bible thumpers in town... ➽➽➽➽ Tight, enclosed spaces are NOT her friend. She will do anything she can in order to prevent being in a situation that would call for small spaces. She even sleeps with her doors - and sometimes windows - open. It's gotten better since her youth. But one doesn't just simply forget the feeling of being buried alive ➽➽➽➽ "Suffers" from Tritanopia; a type of blue-yellow color blindness. It doesn't really affect her day to day unless she's needed to distinguish colors that she struggles with | blue and green, red and purple, yellow and pink ➽➽➽➽ she doesn't like listening to people talk for longer than a few minutes so she interrupts all the damn time, stops paying attention, gets restless or just walks away completely ➽➽➽➽ has the tendency to overshoot, normally doesn't disappoint, but she aims higher than she should and is always trying to impress people [ this usually results in long lectures about arrogance or the possibility of failure to which she responds with "But did I fail? No." ]  ➽➽➽➽ There haven't been many people who Phoibe hasn't been able to con, blackmail charm into purchasing some kind of service and / or good from her and her family's little in-home shop. ➽➽➽➽ Phoibe is really good with calculations and not just with numbers ➽➽➽➽ She can read your palm, give lessons on love and relationships, tell the future in your cards... a lot of cliche "gypsy" practices though there is something about it all that is electrifying and sparks up her spine anytime she puts her talents to use | she's damn good at it and can play it off just well enough that no one can tell is it real? or she just that good at playing the right notes? ➽➽➽➽ She is well versed in Romani spells and curses, talismans and holistic approaches to the different situations life throws. Something she is very proud of. It's all an ancestral and heritage nuance according to her family; but she knows the truth and is so tangled into the lore and history and learning of it all she can't simply stop - now can she? ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵  ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵ ▿ ▵  ♡ spicy foods ♡ getting tattoos & piercings pain kink? ♡ the smell of gasoline ♡ getting what she wants ♡ dark chocolate ♡ impressing people ♡ horrible, trashy B rated horror films  ☒ sequin ☒ eating noises ☒ not getting her way ☒ scratching records ☒ white wine ☒ midday boredom ☒ daytime tv  ➽➽➽➽ snooping around town, always looking for spooky and supernatural ➽➽➽➽ tarot and palm reading to anyone at the campus ➽➽➽➽ collecting crystals & enamel pins ➽➽➽➽ hiking around town, around the beach and near the edge of the town is probably her favorite spots  ➽➽➽➽ depression, superiority complex, mental instability that goes untreated and misdiagnosed as multiple personalities it's the spirits, honest! claustrophobia |  ➽➽➽➽ absolutely not. what's the point? especially since it wasn't in the returned spot when she went to grab and use it herself. she would however make sure it wouldn't roll back into her once she turned her back to it. like sticking up on the curb of a median where there's those little grass patches? yeah. there. it's just chaotic neutral enough.  ➽➽➽➽ she injured her right knee when she was younger; slipped on some barnacles down by the wharf and it never healed properly. so, when the weather is cold and acting up, so does her knee - slight limp, agitated swelling that sort of thing ➽➽➽➽ hates the idea of crying in front of anyone. will avoid it at all costs ➽➽➽➽ always fidgets with her lip piercings when bothered or nervous ➽➽➽➽ her major at Blackmoore is Business Management with a minor in Paranormal Science / Parapsychology ➽➽➽➽ natural born peddler and will blackmail and swindle you of your coin or other valuables ➽➽➽➽ Phobes has tried numerous times seven to be exact to sell Leader some sick looking crystals, a personal talisman bauble, as well as the ever essential loose tea leaves - both for their special properties and strictly to enjoy when the need arises. All in vain; probably why she was so attracted to them. They were the only one to successfully withstand her snake-oil salesman charm.  ➽➽➽➽ What would it take to convince them to kill an innocent person?: she thinks she's already done so. she would have to be fully convinced that they are or would be a danger to her and those she holds close. ➽➽➽➽ Would they ever resort to cannibalism in a desperate situation?: if it was absolutely necessary, she s'pposes so. ➽➽➽➽ Would they ever resort to cannibalism in a non-desperate situation?: no, not willingly. ➽➽➽➽ Does your character enjoy inflicting pain upon others, or having pain inflicted upon them?: a little bit of both. because there are those who absolutely deserve the unrelenting crack of a whip. and not always in a good way. as it pertains to herself? with the amount of tattoos and piercings she has, there has to be some kind of kink involved in it all. right? ➽➽➽➽ Has your character ever committed any crimes? If so, what were they? How severe?: ∴ arson tho she wasn't caught ∴ breaking and entering ∴ trespassing ∴ theft ∴ possession of illegal substances ∴ peddling stolen goods ∴ murder ???  ➽➽➽➽ Everyone wants something from someone and always at a steal. It just so happens that I happen to get exactly what I want at exactly the right price. Toss around a few blackmailed secrets here and there, planting and picking up little tells, eerily accurate readings and you can get these Bible pushers to do almost anything you want. There isn't anything that can't be leveraged out of the people of Blackharbour. They just need the right... motivation. ➽➽➽➽ If the world ended, or was about to end, what would they do?: Anything and Everything and Nothing at all. Drugs, sex, vandalism... small time shit. Really? I just want to have some me time. Enjoy a fresh danish from the cafe down the street, not the mainstreamed one. Ew, they don't make anything right. The mom and pop shop. Swindle a few poor suckers out of their last dime, for old times sake~ before curling up with my favorite set of cards at the Leap, overlooking the water. Peaceful. Routine. Organized in all the chaos. ➽➽➽➽ Would they like to be a Hero?: Absolutely not. Phoibe Graves isn't anyone's hero. Not even her own. To suggest the question proves you know nothing about the youngest Graves child.  ➽➽➽➽ Technically Catholic, but part of the open societal faith that "they are all stars scattered in the sight of God" so take that as you will... ➽➽➽➽ On a scale of 1 to 10, how strong is their Faith in that which they worship?: About a 7. There's clearly room for improvement. Everything can be improved upon. I suppose even myself... but why would I do that? ➽➽➽➽ On a scale of 1 to 10, how strong is their Faith in themselves?: A rocking 11 baby. I'm the queen. ➽➽➽➽ On a scale of 1 to 10, how strong is their Faith in others?: In a select few? Its roughly an 8... like the Club. I can safely measure them in that range. However, my faith in others is more of a 5 or lower. No one is truly worthy of my time, unless ye be worthy. ➽➽➽➽ Does your character consider themselves a sinner?: Who among us is not? ➽➽➽➽ Why?: Her thoughts alone; the fact that she is willing to blackmail, swindle, trick and con people out of their money for simple tips and tricks and not feel the slightest bit guilty.  ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ what the hell happened... Phoibe Graves, seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. The epitome of cursed. Originally hailing from Salem, Mass. she and the rest of her family moved to Blackharbour when she was about eleven. Strange place with even stranger people coming into their town soiling their wholesome Christian values with their Romani ways. Of course the Graves were seen as nothing more than a stain to their society. But that didn't stop the locals from seeking the family's guidance and counsel and herbs when it suited them the most. It's not like they were complaining, money was money and if these pretentious Blackharbour folk were willing to part with it, so be it. They had already arrived to the town with a fair amount of coin lining their own velvet pockets, but there was always more to be had. Taking up residence upon the top of the Leap in Hightown. The monetary status of the family seemed to have helped them within the societal brackets with the locals. Something they were pleased with. The family has made their wealth in a multitude of ways; her father was a broker by trade, always flying out for business, never could be one to stay in one spot for longer than a weekend. Her mother; a Madame of their ancestral craft, which is just a fancy way of saying she's a really, REALLY good con-artist. Though there is some truth to things she spouts off and peddles. It's not like the marks are going to be able to tell either way. The first three Graves children were victims of childhood illnesses and didn't live much past the age of five. Her two eldest sisters however, they continue to live in Salem and will stop by every now and again - only if to beg for money. They didn't inherit the craft their mother so lovingly offered to teach. Instead they married and live lives as stay at home mothers with blogs. Ugh. The only other daughter that lives there in Blackharbour, is one that did learn the craft alongside Phoibe. Talented she is, though there is an ever ongoing competition between the two girls as to who is the better. Something that results in a lot of arguments and petty disagreements. None in front of the customers. The Graves women host their clients in the parlor room on the first floor of their three storied Victorian home. Incense burners, hanging from the ceiling as well as position in pots of varying sizes around the room, silks and other fine and soft linen draped across the backs of chairs and walls. Pillows of different decor and styles line the floors and backs of wicker and wood chairs, tables here and their stationed almost like shelves would in a store aisle, littered with a multitude of different trinkets and baubles and tomes and books. Things for show or things to be sold and bought? Why not both? If it is to help ease the troubled and weary souls that come walking in through their doors looking for help, then so be it. Joining the Occult Club wasn't something she actively searched for. It was by pure happenstance that she came across the little haven for souls such as hers. The leader, as they liked to refer to themselves, was an enigma in their own right. But who among them wasn't? Wasn't that the whole point of them starting up this club? She soon found out that, no. That was not the original purpose. But it soon could be... the lot of them got along well. Almost too well. Phoibe was in a constant state of practicing her pitches and tactics to get the other members to buy into her bullshit Faith. A lot of the times it worked, save for a few Adept. It was a safe space, but also a place that made the chaos within the seventh of the seventh feel as if there wasn't any chaos to be had that she didn't actively seek out herself. And that made the coolness within her thaw just a bit. |
