floraisondiadem

[floraisondiadem]

@artfulncthings​

“ suppose that I did, suppose that I did not. “ how uncomplicated was it for ofelia to slip away and like a pied piper lure a few non notable guests, she knew how to pluck them out with eye alone making sure not to cause too much of a fuss, outside with her towards the gardens’ maze upon the promise of vrajiit spectacle, of the show the woman could put on for them. an incentive to follow upon lips drizzled with confectionary nearly too strenuous to stomach, transient was a painted fingernail on the chin, trail behind me little ducks for I am the ignis fatuus followed by tilt of lips so ingénue. a sampling press upon the tongue although brief would stir the bud of fascination. 

ofelia abandoned them then, how unfortunate she could have sworn they were beside her, to the swathe of darkness and green. emerging from the entrance on her lonesome with the shouts and calls for aid lost to the sounds of the inside. 

nails digging into the hedge once realized the yard was not as empty as hoped.

#; ofelia x teagan #t:artfulncthings #warborn.event #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s replies

[floraisondiadem]

@rosesxruin​

“ do you think...” words trailed as did her fingers brushing the top of a candle—would she tip it, could she tip it. would it matter if she ran around the room pushing over candles—letters trickling from behind teeth to fall onto the floor gracelessly then gathered once more in arms, shaken and refitted so that the original subject ended up shrouded on the heels of something potentially more suited to the time and place. “ do you think we could eat it all? “ ofelia blamed the subsistence for her greedy thought; the colors the smells that coaxed, even the sweets of which she never felt an affinity for called her tastebuds. wonderment it seemed would not vanish no matter the amount of times an event such as this was attended. at least her indulgences were with a friendly face. 

#; ofelia x callum #t:rosesxruin #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s replies

[floraisondiadem]

vanessa kirby . cisfemale . she/her . wasn’t that ofelia avita markoviæ walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the lady in waiting out and about on such a fine day as this. I’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously taciturn, whilst also managing to be quite protean. the thirty year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. I heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( malleable anatomy & vocal replication ). it’s funny, whenever I think of them, I think of spiderweb cracks swiftly branching out across a surface, rows upon rows of faces lined up on a shelf ready to be borrowed and the porcelain reticence of a doll. great to see the mannequin around, isn’t it ?

⇢ 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍;

full name: ofelia avita markoviæ meaning: ❛ advantage | life, son of the god of war ❜ nickname(s) | aliases: ophie, lia | avita markoviæ, ekho occupation; current | former lady in waiting | academy graduate, theater puppeteer home: danruba martial affiliation: unattached. pansexual. affiliation | alignment: herself | neutral chaotic, neutral neutral disposition { positive }; protean, courteous, discerning disposition { negative }; taciturn, abrasive, possessive notable physical traits: silver ear cuff piercing on left ear in the form of three rings intricately weaved with runes, a precautionary measure countering her guises. the faint scent of freesia.

tw: death, tw: body horror, tw: blood, tw: murder

✧ the twins ofelia and odysseus entered the world one dreary, wintry—she will never forget the cold, how it cradled her nor the flakes of snow that kissed her cheeks—morning in danruba to vrajiit wise woman solveig whom practiced the art of anthropomancy with eyes the color of glacial ice and her wife the elusive as the tide willonia; a boat maker turned bone carver, from animal bones to the bark on the skeletal trees does her touch reach and twist with a voice that demanded a bent knee from the seed of a man named alasdair.

✧ to fill any other spaces, any leaking cracks were the weaved tales solvieg told of the old gods, a heavy presence in the shape of another member upon the family tree or the presence little ofelia swore she could feel in those moments of her mother brushing her fingers through her hair to make a braid. she dared not look in the mirror, ofelia’s fear keeping her fidgety frame stilled. 

✧ willonia called them her little minnows as age progressed; brushing a hand across their cheeks the two didn’t understand why there was tears in their mothers’ eyes one day, the other parental no where to be seen not even a shadow, threatening to spill over nor the meaning behind such raw display of emotion. frantic were they to make it go away, wrapping arms around her in an embrace she did not return—but oh ofelia would understand later, on the battlefield, bloody and tired and so so cold as she buried the blade in her brothers throat—I’m sorry little minnow—leaving her lips in their mother’s voice, the hot gush of blood warmed her quivering hands briefly, odysseus’s look of shock blending with her gaze of animalistic fear and tracks of tears. cowardice, her mind hissed, a desire to live, she chokingly responded. fingers pressing against her brothers’ dead frame—that suddenly mirrored her own. 

✧ a drawn out tear soaked sigh, then she picked up the jagged rock.

✧ the two entered the academy together, hand in hand, only knowledge under their belts was the rough play they’d grown used to with the other children in the village. the fights ofelia would get into occasionally gifting the other party with a broken nose. inexperienced. but they knew how to bite at least. were quick on the feet. devouring gazes that ate up their lessons in spite of fumbles, in spite of ofelia’s revulsion towards the reason for the preparing. they grew apart there, different connections different interests different reasoning's for being here. for wanting to stay. ofelia nearly loosing herself within it’s walls. they exited the academy separately when the time came. ofelia’s only glimpse of odysseus is cursory.

✧ was it divine punishment? this memory, this crime that crushed her with guilt, twisted itself like her gift did to the flesh and left her voice a mock of what it used to be. two toned. as if another resided there in her throat, could be peered at if one dared close enough. a darker whisper nearly swallowing her own voice trapping her in that cycle of would she ever be her own again.

✧ connections, a recommendation, well oiled by honey dripping from tongue, praises the glacé. you’ll sing for another now little minnow. the abuse of her mother’s title, the blood that tied itself to her veins in which she hardly ever spoke of got ofelia placed in the position. a proper decoy. protection against assassination's. big words and a heavy duty placed upon shoulders that could easily let it crumble however the vrajiit are kin. she’d remain. 

⇢ P o w e r s & A b i l i t i e s;

malleable anatomy; user can modify the physiological features of oneself and others, including face, body, skin, or size (to a limited degree) to disguise or look like another person. while removing/concealing a body-part, like a finger, eye, etc., is possible, the user can't actually add anything new to the body-shape. they can, however, shift the flesh to a remarkable degree, although the changed being will always be recognizable as a member of their species.

vocal replication; user is able to mimic the voices of others or imitate sounds such as animal noises and explosions. any sound the user hears they can replicate with perfect clarity along with any manner the sound was made in.

⇢ W e a k n e s s ( e s ) | L i m i t a t i o n (s);

✧  the process to alter, to redesign, her features is rightfully so an agonizing one no matter the tolerance built. likened to pressing your face up against a gravel road and dragging. leaving the vrajiit vulnerable to attack while she redresses herself in the appearance of another using long nails to rip the skin revealing the new face underneath the gore.

✧ limited to hands, face, hair length and color. she has yet to attempt full body transformations. same goes for altering other people but their transformations don’t extend for a long period of time like hers does. 

✧ tries not to use this ability too much due to the pain it causes unless required of her.

✧ sounds that are too high or too low in sound frequency may be impossible to replicate or cause considerable strain on the user's body.

#warborn.intro #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: blood #tw:body horror mention #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s headcanons #aaaah it was lowkey rushed #I'll fix this mess later

[floraisondiadem]

“ that’s celebratory then right? “ it hadn’t crossed her mind that this was probably in poor taste, from the beginning of her entrance here alone, as once more asclepius managed to weasel his way out of attending; gifting the girl with a grin before sending her off in his stead, to glimpsing at the lavishly outfitted landscape, to the people. there was an air of tenseness out of the corner of the eye behind the smiles and laughter and dancing ( something a part of ana wished she could partake in more so than the leaving this event ). 

yet here she was, deep in shadowy entrance, attempting to find semblance of true enjoyment and a little bit of vengeance towards mentor. nerves making her hands tremble. the sound of amusement dying on her lips at his admission to possible unfriendly company of which had her ready to bolt back into the doorway of the kitchen, anastazija would rather take her chances with the head cook, without the larger firework, more inclined to toss it than get caught even after having asked for a thrill. “  at this rate you’ll have the whole keep on us if you don’t keep quiet.  “

                  inside the banquet hall are lords and ladies dripping in jewels.  ripe pickings.  perfect opportunities to support his piss-poor wages from the castle.  yet,  sieon’s found himself here,  on the outside in the torch-lit darkness behind the kitchens. 

“all i’m saying is  :  if we blow this up,  we’ll certainly get banished from attending another one of these again,”  sieon complains in a hushed voice,  the poorest attempt at a whisper heard tonight. in the shadows of the keep a girl snickers in response, unconvinced.  more and more fireworks are stacked in the cradle of sieon’s arms until he’s barely peeking over the tops of them.  ( curiosity’s a terrible mistress.  )  “no, no, get the other one.  the big one!  okay,  hurry.  i think i hear someone coming—— !”

#; anastazija x sieon #t:svanurs #warborn.event #ᵃᶰᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵃᵗˡᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵃʳ ᶤᵗ | anastazija’s replies #I hope this is okay!

[floraisondiadem]

@miidnightspecials​

" I don’t like it. “  the short phrase dancing on a tone of tempestuous was vague enough to signify a manner of things, carnivorous in it’s appetite and only halted from it’s path by crystal clear picture painted on the canvas of victoire’s eyes; the gentle glow of the lights, the sedate pace in which the music took ( trailing down the arm and entwining the fingers, lips stretched into that of something mirthful, a tug—care to dance? ), left and right you could not escape the sight of those decorated in finery of various shades and intricate designs nor the sound of glass on glass or the presence of laughter stained lips. her wife to be among them, softening the furrowed expression the cupbearer held if only partially. “ it makes my skin itch. “

it was not wholly a disruption if kept tightly in the arms of a low murmur, spoken only after she’d joined the hivemind of official’s refilling empty or near empty chalices, hands bare of their usual adornment. her skirts brushing against the floor with backened steps, a bowed waist. however victoire was never one for complete subtleties and so when she parted from current company to seek another. “ how much was this venture master of coin? “  vitriolic tongue could not tame itself. approaching the state of hypocritical in a rapid pace was victoire whom spent lavishly herself, unable to stop spending habit in the form of jewels or wagers. but with the current state this event was sour in the mouth.

#; victoire x danya #warborn.event #ᵗʰᵘˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ ᶤˢ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶤᵗʸ | victoire’s replies

[floraisondiadem]

@illusiory

painted smoke hued nails brushed against her ear ignoring the strands that escaped the low plaite, third time that night in over an hour yet the action was not out of nervousness given the crowd surrounding her in the ballroom or reassurance towards the jewelry being there to keep stability. more so the crawling sensation incased in her bones desired it to be removed when otherwise worn out of adoration for the earring piece that she had multiple of, likened to a collar around the throat insisted upon by her lady under the assumption ofelia play nice, as if she were a prone to misbehaving child sent off to their nanny—fingers tightened upon the flesh, threatening to dig in and tear with the darkening mood. then releasing. her lips parted on a sigh that still held.

it was the same tune, the same strategy of one attending employed whenever a correspondence was sent from between the house and the king during such events that placed both friend and enemy inside of a nearly cut off space decorated in glimmering opulence. as if that’d stop the ill felt feelings for a time. unless the king desired for his hall to suffer a haunting, another part of her mind supplied.

“ lady ghita, “ her approach was silent, the sound of feet barely touching the floor and due to length of skirt it appeared overall ghostly, more than once had the lady in waiting startled those near—you should wear bells around your neck or something, at least stomp around like a troll dear sister—a polite smile stretched her lip in spite of near consumption of bitter memories. “ apologizing for the assumption but you looked as if you needed a glass of water. are you alright? “  ofelia knew her tone did not match the words, that the feeling was absent and that question wasn’t needed from one so distant to the embrace of caring, more than likely to shove it away but politeness was key. her hand lifted the offered drink, almost too like a conciliation to the possible fright. 

#; ofelia x nataliya #t:illusiory #warborn.event #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s replies

[floraisondiadem]

Vanessa Kirby in Mission: Impossible - Fallout (2018)

#; mirror #tw: violence #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s visage

[floraisondiadem]

#warborn.task #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s headcanons

[floraisondiadem]

ᵗᵃᵍˢ.

#ᵗᵃᵍˢ. #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s visage #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s musings #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s replies #ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵉʰᶤᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵗᵃᶤᶰ˒ᶜᵃᶰ'ᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉᶰᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ | ofelia’s headcanons #ofelia’s vitreus

[floraisondiadem]

asircnscall​:

teagan hummed, “ just this once? i’m sure you’re allowed to indulge more than once. ” their head tilted, the figure had some pastries of their own held in their hands. teagan very much also loved sweets, food in general honestly- they could constantly be found in the kitchens helping to taste test food. they hum, head tilting as they offer anastazija a pastry, “ i may have bought a few too many, would you like one? ” dark eyes trail to where the puppet show resides, “ they are quite good, sometimes the puppet shows haven’t had the best quality props. ” teagan’s eyes were squinting for a moment as they examine the puppets, “ very nice. ” it had almost seem like the figure had come out of nowhere- really teagan had been standing near anastazija but they had a habit of blending into crowds.

.

a congratulatory pat on the back was required given her nonphysical reaction to the appearance of another by her side—the internal half however was not as peaceable, could no doubt be seen in eyes if looked at closely enough—habitual response elicited from living with the embodiment of a jack in the box. “ I shouldn’t... “ and yet fingers reached for the offering anyway, a soft thank you following the transfer of fingers then to lips with the bloom of raspberries on tongue beneath teeth shredded bread. “ I admittedly haven’t been to the bakery that sells these, haven’t the time but I mourn the fact that I’m just now having them. “ anastazija already felt tethered to them by a likened interest plus she had had few if short interactions with them, and so any wariness that should have been apparent at having someone next to you—for who knows how long—lessened a smudge. “ must have a better craftsman behind the scenes then? “ a brow raised, gaze turning from the show briefly, yet glimpsed at out of the corner of her eye for she wanted to miss nothing, upon teagan. “ what else has captured your eye about them? I’m curious. “

#; anastazija x teagan #t:asircnscall #ᵃᶰᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵃᵗˡᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵃʳ ᶤᵗ | anastazija’s replies

[floraisondiadem]

#warborn.task #paolo sebastian dresses are gorgeous #ᵒᶠ ʳᵘᵇᶤᵉˢ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ᵃᶰ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃᵒʳᵈᶤᶰᵃʳᶤˡʸ ᵖʳᵉᶜᶤᵒᵘˢ ˢˡᶤᵗ ᵗʰʳᵒᵃᵗ | anastazija’s headcanons

[floraisondiadem]

#warborn.task #dramatic queen #ᵗʰᵘˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ ᶤˢ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶤᵗʸ | victoire’s headcanons

[floraisondiadem]

@ekathrina

this necklace decorated with lavender gems as small as a pinprick neatly set out in rows. no, that laced with just pearls one. perhaps this bracelet, glittering sky blue stones in the sunlight was more suited, fit the eyes. nevermind, switch it out with this cerulean choker. victoire could tell out of the corner of her eye at this point the marketplace jeweler was becoming irritated with her constant changes, her fickle tastes escorted by gritted teeth and flexing fingers yet no action appeared to be taken in rectifying what was clearly the lady’s desire to push—decision had already been made as soon as she stepped up to the vendor’s stall but victoire was never one to not meddle. “ lady anastase...what about this one? “  honestly, at this rate she’d most likely join the list of the dead presently.

#; victoire x ekatherina #t:ekathrina #ᵗʰᵘˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ ᶤˢ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶤᵗʸ | victoire’s replies

[floraisondiadem]

@antisvints

" such an uncute expression, is that how you thank your savior? “ her tone was dipped in amusement and not irked in any way, gaze glittered, nor did victoire appear to be ruffled in breath due to the hurried pace in which the two departed from now absent company with stalls rushing past and crowds skillfully dodged with minimal casualties. they’d faced worthier adversaries than this group in other similar timed situations — all tethered towards one individual whom couldn’t help plucking feathers instead of ruffle. ‘savior’ should have been the form of address worn by cedric, the amount of instances he’s fished her out of danger enough to craft a list of yet the woman couldn’t help but steal the words from him instead, a quick yet gentle pat delivered to his chest. “ looks like we are in the clear. shall we go enjoy the rest of the festival? “

#; victoire x cedric #t:antisvints #ᵗʰᵘˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ ᶤˢ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶤᵗʸ | victoire’s replies #I #apologize #for #this #gremlin

[floraisondiadem]

summer bishil . cis woman . she/her . wasn’t that victoire girault walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the cupbearer out and about on such a fine day as this. I’ve heard from the court spies that they notoriously decadent, whilst also managing to be quite suasive. the thirty-four year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. I heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( mnemokinesis ). it’s funny, whenever I think of them, I think of the warmth of a tea kettle, a ribcage crafted of diamonds filled to overflowing with gems the color of spilled blood, taught words dripping with honey and vacant promises of kingdoms and of staying by your side eternally . great to see the scavenger around, isn’t it ?

⇢ 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍;

full name: victoire girault meaning: ❛  victory | to rule, spear  ❜ nickname(s) | aliases: vic occupation; current | former cupbearer, owner of the memoriae | court lady home: crysala martial affiliation: entwined in an engagement to house kalise affiliation | alignment: herself, the girault’s | chaotic neutral disposition { positive }; suasive, assiduous, pragmatic disposition { negative }; decadent, malefic, forgetful notable physical traits: various faint scars from youth branching out over body underneath her clothes, likewise one stretched out across bottom lip and barely brushing against top. 

tw: death, tw: murder, tw: mentions of amnesia, tw: injuring of a child, tw: mention of blood

✧ femme is the second born to lord achilleas girault — he wore the title loosely, like an ill-fitted suit on the frame of someone smaller in spite of contrary, more of a man-at-arms than gilded. more raptor like and victoire bore his likeness in her eyes, dark reflective glass, in her stance which had not always been sure, ridged, a form which appeared to stand upon a tight rope over a cavernous pit. her resolve to not fall in absolute, in vulturine gaze, in the neat placement of a blade sliding into a rib as eyes met that of a target. while appearance, skin and hair, mirrored that of his second wife dionaea, a lady of the capital, a weaver, whose split at the edges lips were as painted as the red lace she wore. a treader of the waters carefully, speak in tones both forthright and vague. match the gilded game for game yet be cautious of plummeting into the maw.  followed by the birth of the twins, ever so subservient dimitrie and little prim dedre. vrajiit blood in veins of one, tied in by a relative which had granted victoire hers.

✧ his first wife was lady eirene of malsovia, this union much like his next was arranged by how much influential status would be acquired, each linked by a lack of love yet he himself sought out second bride while first had been at the firm behest of parentals. she’d gifted him his heir, the kaleidoscopic achilleas II girault before death had placed it’s kiss upon her cheek after brushes with chronic fatigue since she was a babe. and yet even after this prosperous bunch he trailed after a mistress whom gave another son — more spares she’d thought, just in case one didn’t turn out right and he had to start over. mold another from clay with fingers worn by the use of malleable flesh — connection was brief, if and when he decided to pursue a thing designated as more heartfelt, when the poison in her teacup slipped behind lips by jealous dionaea. 

✧ victoire was aged ten when her ability made itself known, wrapping arms around her small shoulders and leaning to whisper in her ear white noise. the child was the first to know of her mother’s deed, witness it through her eyes before the memory so twisted itself into her psyche that it was assumed vic had committed it herself. mother did not give credence to the reality of the situation. held little victoire as she wept and father condemned her crime.

✧ lord achilleas the first made sure to train his five children himself. cultivated interests in weapons, in swift movement and desire to split flesh, made sure they knew to fuck up would mean going without food for weeks at a time and a bruised body. his lessons would be all they could stomach, all he would feed them with for wasted offspring wasn't ideal in his inkling for the future, his grand scheme. set them against one another in matches after starving them of father’s approval, told them he’d be proud of whomever won. and instead of listening to her half sister's pleas for mercy during one such spar, victoire looked her father in the eye with the sweetest of smiles before shattering bone. their family didn't deal in leniency even if family was involved.

✧ to hone her power she’d stayed with an aunt deep in the mountains, her connection to their lineage unclear like dirty paint water and all she’d been given was shaky assurances. the woman was like her however which drew intrigue, manipulation a craft that blended in well with patriarch’s side of the family. father not one for such subtle tactics but saw benefit in tutelage allowed it’s hands around her throat, squeezing, breathing words into her lips towards a design unwarranted but necessary. she learned to rip the brain apart, scramble it in a way that a clean slate was offered up and the blank eyes haunted her still as did the frantic question who am I that fell from quivering lips. she learned to restore, to modify by inserting herself into the mind of others and fabricate events in the mind of the already gone. it drove victoire mad, the skulls she’d tormented, it broke her, even while being patched up in a frankenstein way then being told to continue — could no longer tell what was hers.

✧ occupationally it was near easy to slip herself into the thoughts of few around the king, a struggle yes, especially when choosing who to use her gift upon, but she’d weaved her way so tightly that it was assumed victoire had been there all along, worked for the king as cupbearer for years and wore the title of loyal friend expertly. like it belonged on her shoulders. made more real by the actual service of her family members in his war. subsequently during this machiavellian theater act came about her engagement to a member of house kalise brought about by brother’s hand as father was no longer able to do so. the family was in desperate need of allies and it showed. ever so dutiful victoire accepted the engagement with the energy of a cat about to swipe it’s paw over something breakable after you told it no. 

⇢ P o w e r s & A b i l i t i e s;

mnemokinesis; user can control the memories of others, allowing them to modify, fabricate, suppress, restore, erase, and view them. they can change memories to confuse, wipe away certain memories to cause amnesia, discern and provoke nostalgia, and enter the victim into a psychic vision, replaying their memory.

⇢ W e a k n e s s ( e s ) | L i m i t a t i o n (s);

✧ gets overwhelmed with memories of others for they have to be stored somewhere instead of the targets skull if they so chose to have a memory erased, confusing her memories with someone else's causing often a mental collapse. /  overuse and/or memories inconsistent with the environment, other memories, and/or other key elements may cause the target to suffer a nervous breakdown.

✧ needs to make physical contact with targets to activate their power leaving user vulnerable to attack.

✧ psychic shield ( highly resistant ) and psychic immunity ( impervious ). though of course others with a high resistance to mental manipulation could sever her ability. ( victoire knows to ask for permission first however. )

#warborn.intro #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: mentions of amnesia #tw: injuring of a child #ᵗʰᵘˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ ᶤˢ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶤᵗʸ | victoire’s headcanons

[floraisondiadem]

“You think I’m gristle, begging to be chewed? No, my love. I’m bone. Rather: the sound bone makes when it snaps.”

— Shara McCallum, from “Memory,” Madwoman (via lifeinpoetry)

#; skull #ᵗʰᵘˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ ᶤˢ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶤᵗʸ | victoire’s musings

[floraisondiadem]

#; skull #ᵗʰᵘˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ ᶤˢ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶤᵗʸ | victoire’s musings