#denizens of verona
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Judgment of the Damned (translation) PART IV
Link part III
Summary:
In the realm of Limbo, where souls deemed too good for Hell but not virtuous enough for Heaven reside, Victoria finds herself thrust into an unprecedented mission. When a notorious sinner, Sir Pentious, achieves redemption and ascends to Heaven, it sends shockwaves through all realms. Tasked with unraveling this mystery, Victoria, a minor judge of souls, is sent to the infamous Hazbin Hotel in Hell.
For the first time, an emissary from Limbo steps foot into the fiery depths, tasked with observing and judging the denizens of Hell for their potential for redemption. As Victoria navigates this unfamiliar territory, she captures the unrequired attention of the enigmatic Radio Demon, Alastor. Amidst the chaos of demonic antics and the pursuit of understanding redemption, Victoria must confront her own beliefs and judgments.
As she delves deeper into the secrets of the Hazbin Hotel, Victoria uncovers hidden truths about sinners, redemption, and the ultimate fate of souls caught between damnation and salvation. With each soul she encounters, Victoria's journey becomes not only a quest for answers but a personal voyage of self-discovery in the heart of darkness.
Chapter 4: Rumors from the Past
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Hey, its me "Verona". I just want to say a liiitle thing before you start your reading....I must say, this chapter was quite a challenge to translate due to the archaic English in which Zestial should speak. In advance, I apologize. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Love u!
(Yep. Spanish is my native language, and yes, there is a Spanish version of this work.)
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Angeldust
His body ached all over, as was customary after a day of filming with Valentino. Ever since their little disagreement at the bar, the bastard hadn't given him a moment's rest. He was beginning to wonder if he could keep this up forever, or if he should start imagining the impossible and find a way to free himself from that contract. He shifted uncomfortably in the taxi seat. He needed a good shower.
After a few more minutes of travel, the vehicle stopped outside the hotel. Angel got out and looked up at the building. He hated to admit it, but that place had become a space where he felt safe, relaxed, and happy. A place he always wanted to return to... a home. He shook his head slowly, smiling as he walked towards the hotel. They had really softened him up. Maybe he could buy those lunatics something nice.
He opened the door, stepping into the hotel. The lobby was completely dark and everything was silent. That struck him as odd. Suddenly, he felt someone lunging at him and putting a sack over his head. He tried to break free but his attacker was too strong. He fell to the ground where his arms were tied.
"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HELP!" he exclaimed as he was dragged into a room. His assailant leaned him against a wall and removed the sack from his head. Angel looked around and saw Niffty to his right, also tied up. To his left, Husk was in the same condition. "What's going on?"
"Relax," Husk replied irritably.
Angel wanted to ask more but at that moment, he saw someone entering the room.
"Alright," said Vaggie, "now that I have you all gathered here, there's an important matter to discuss."
"Vaggie? What the hell is wrong with you! Why did you tie us up? Have you gone mad?" shouted Angel, feeling indignant. Just moments ago, he had felt so relieved to have returned to the hotel and now this.
"I apologize for the extreme measure, but I needed to have you all gathered without causing a mess. There's something very important you need to know, and you must not speak of it outside of this hotel under any circumstances," Vaggie said in a very serious tone. "There's no simple way to say this. We have a very important guest in the hotel and it's crucial to make a very good impression on her, so you must behave. Niffty, don't stab insects in front of this person, Husk, try to be less gloomy, and Angel, don't be so…horny.
"Can I step on the bugs in front of her?" Niffty asked. "Besides, ever since I started the war in the attic, there aren't as many."
"Ugh, sure," Vaggie replied.
"Who is this soooo important person?" Angel grumbled. He didn't want to have to watch his behavior in a place he considered his home. "I mean, we tried to act well when Charlie's father came, and everything went fine. In the end, we didn't even have to keep up appearances. Why would it be different this time?"
"Angel, please, you have to listen to me this time," Vaggie responded.
"I think we deserve a better explanation. I agree with leggies," Husk said. Vaggie sighed.
"Fine. But as I already told you, this must be kept secret. Limbo is real, and a minor judge from there is staying here. She will be studying sinners, making a report on them, and determining the chances of redemption. In short."
The room fell silent as they watched Vaggie, processing the information.
"Vaggie," Angel said softly, "What the hell did you smoke?"
Vaggie let out a frustrated growl before speaking again. "Fine. Let's start over. I'll explain everything. But please, we have to help Charlie
Victoria
She woke up with her face resting on the documents. She looked around a little disoriented. It was barely nightfall. She couldn't believe she had fallen asleep. She couldn't afford to nap when she had so much work ahead of her. Her eyes still felt sleepy. Perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to get up and walk around the hotel to shake off the laziness.
She stretched in her seat before getting up and leaving the room. It was a relief to be able to wander the place freely without the deer-ears guy nearby. The decoration of the place was very beautiful and sophisticated. The place gleamed now that it had been reconstructed following Adam's attempt to eradicate these sinners. Victoria struggled to understand how anyone could take pleasure in destroying souls, but, well, Cain must have inherited his temperament from somewhere.
She descended to the first floor via the main staircase, admiring the magnificent chandelier hanging over the hall. Suddenly, she could notice a strange movement among the crystals and bulbs. A kind of red spot moved with agility. She squinted trying to understand what she was seeing. At that moment, she collided head-on with someone.
"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed a boy. His appearance reminded her of a spider.
Victoria mentally reviewed the files she had read. The person in front of her was a resident of the hotel... Angeldust, real name Anthony. "Don't worry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking," she responded amiably.
"No, I insist. Let me make it up to you. How about a massage?" Angel replied nervously. "It'll release all your tension! Not in a sexual way! Ah, it's not that you're not attractive, but you're just not my type. Not that there's anything wrong with you. I mean, it's bad that you're not... No! That's not what I meant. I like to... you know... but not with you. It's just that..."
Victoria listened to Angel's verbal diarrhea, bewildered. What the hell was he talking about? She couldn't make sense of anything, let alone why he was acting so nervous.
"I could massage your feet. Not that I have a weird fetish!"
"Angel, don't say anything else," interrupted a gruff voice from a demon with feline features. Victoria searched her memory again. That must be Husk. The hotel's bartender subtly moved her away from Angel with his wings. "Uh, um, Judge, how about a magic trick?"
Had he just called her judge? Now everything made sense. "No, no. Don't worry. Hey, I know what this is all about."
"Damn it, Husk, you called her judge," grumbled Vaggie, entering the room.
"Look," Victoria began in a friendly tone, "it's really not necessary for you to try to pamper or flatter me. I'm not here with any ill intentions or prejudices. I hope you can treat me like anyone else, without thinking about my judge status. Which I had hoped would remain confidential. But it doesn't matter. I trust I'll have a very good opinion of all of you."
As soon as she finished speaking, something struck her head. She looked down and saw it was a shard of crystal.
"Watch out!" Vaggie shouted, pushing her aside just as the chandelier crashed down from the ceiling with a loud bang. Victoria sat on the floor, observing the scene. Vaggie had managed to evade the impact. From the ruins of the fixture emerged a small woman with a large eye, who laughed nervously.
"Sorry. I was cleaning the crystals. Uh... does this count as attempted murder if it was accidental, right?"-Niffty said.
"This is fucked up already. Judge Victoria, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, where this shit will be your daily life," Husk growled, opening a beer can and leaving the foyer. "I'm not cleaning up that shit."
"What a relief, I couldn't keep up with this forced smile anymore. How the hell does Alastor do it?" Angel added, following Husk.
"Well, Judge," Vaggie said, standing up, "at least they tried."
Alastor
The meeting with the Overlords turned out somewhat predictable. It was evident that Carmilla would be on alert for the potential repercussions following Adam's death. Hell had defended itself adequately for the first time, and that was unprecedented. Overall, the entire meeting revolved around obtaining weapons, planning measures in case of another attack, unity, strength, and similar matters.
But Alastor's mind was focused on more interesting affairs. He knew the judge wouldn't give him much information about... anything. He had already learned that she was a stubborn, reserved, composed, and very intelligent woman. Her witty responses irritated him but were also refreshing. Perhaps deep down, he hoped to have another confrontation with her, but this time, more prepared.
As the congregation neared its end, Alastor directed his gaze towards today's target, Zestial. The ancient being returned his gaze with curiosity. The radio demon simply smiled even wider. It's not that he particularly relished the idea of interacting with that Overlord, but if anyone had answers, it was him. Of course, he had to be careful with his words, as he didn't want anyone else trying to approach the judge, for now. No. It was convenient to keep her presence in hell a secret for the time being. It didn't take a genius to understand that someone like her could be a very important card to play. And…Under no circumstances could he underestimate Zestial, as he was very skilled at noticing subtleties.
"Very well. Does anyone want to add anything?" Carmilla declared before concluding the meeting. As everyone began to leave, Alastor didn't even manage to get up from his seat before he immediately felt a presence behind him.
"Greetings, Alastor," Zestial spoke with that characteristic resonant voice of his. "I knoweth not if mine senses art dulled, but I deem I hath perceived thou didst seek to engage in discourse with me."
Alastor emitted a slight laugh. "Always so perceptive, Zestial. You're correct. Will you have a few minutes before you go to your teatime with the esteemed Carmilla?"
Carmilla watched them from the doorway of the meeting room. Zestial nodded to her, who, at such a gesture, left the room, closing the door behind her. The ancient being took a seat opposite him and observed him with great interest.
“Very well, Alastor, thou hast mine full attention. I must say, our discourse is always... captivating.-Said the Overlord.
"Oh, Zestial, I hope not to disappoint you. I just wanted to ask you about a matter that seems more myth than reality," Alastor replied in a casual tone. Zestial seemed more intrigued. "Well, I won't keep you on the edge of your seat any longer. How true is what they say about Limbo?"
Zestial narrowed his eyes and his smile widened. Alastor didn't expect that reaction. He thought the Overlord would laugh and say that stories about Limbo were just children's tales
"Dear friend, I implore thee not to fall into the error of the majority, thinking that all concerning Limbo is mere invention. For in every fable lies a grain of truth. I suppose thou hast heard what is commonly said. That Limbo, also known as the intermediary realm, is where souls go that are not sinful enough to merit hell, yet not virtuous enough to enter heaven. But in its origins, there was more. But of course, I would like to know, why dost thou show interest in this matter?"
"These are personal matters. Perhaps I could refrain from giving you details if, in exchange for your knowledge, I were to resolve a certain inconvenience Carmilla is dealing with... and what difficulties, I must say!" responded Alastor as he playfully moved his fingers. What he was doing was somewhat risky. But it was worth it.
Zestial emitted a deep chuckle. "I note thou art well-informed. Aye, 'tis true that a new pest hath arisen, seeking to snatch Carmilla's market. Naught that we cannot resolve."
"Oh, but this way I spare you the hassle and the time. I believe it's fair, considering I'm merely asking for some unverified information," Alastor said, and he and Zestial locked eyes for a brief moment. The radio demon knew he couldn't show even a hint of doubt or greater interest in the matter.
"Very well," Zestial finally responded. "Be that as it may, I reckon that sooner or later I shall uncover thy true intentions…In mine early years here in the inferno, 'twas spoken that when the heavens were forged, Limbo stood as a neutral ground to settle disputes and judge the angels' conduct. 'Twas only the supreme judges present then. But in general, there weren't many issues until the incident o' the apple. From that moment forth, with the inception o' hell, Limbo would become the intermediary 'twixt heaven and hell. Not merely for receiving souls, but also for resolving grave disputes 'tween both realms, akin to an international court. With this evolution came the minor judges. On one hand, the supreme judges continued their role as an international court, alongside judging mortal souls. On the other hand, the minor judges were tasked with settling conflicts 'mongst inhabitants of the same domain that couldn't be resolved internally, serving as an appellate body. Of course, they also bore the duty of crafting records of human deeds upon the Earth. But that part's well-known to all."
"Interesting. So, if two angels had a problem they couldn't resolve themselves, could they turn to a minor judge to decide the matter?" Alastor asked to make sure he was getting it all.
"Indeed," Zestial replied, conjuring a teacup before taking a brief sip before continuing, "But you must already know that there weren't as many issues in heaven. The spotlight was on hell, not for murders or thefts, but for something more subtle: contracts." Zestial looked at Alastor attentively, trying to gauge his reaction, but the radio demon remained unfazed. "Supposedly, a minor judge had the power to modify or annul a contract, of course, adhering to the rules or laws of hell."
"Hmm? Contracts, you say?" Alastor prompted Zestial to continue.
"Aye, that's what was told in my time. It was also said that a catastrophic event occurred, causing the Limbo's communications to shut down from their end. However, Alastor, processes don't vanish. The mere fact that Limbo has isolated itself doesn't imply that there's no longer an avenue for appeal."
"Oh, but if that were true, we would still have demons trying to make appeals," Alastor pointed out, resting his chin on his intertwined hands.
“That's the other curious bit. Allegedly, they wiped out all who knew of that process to let it fade away. Does the appeals process truly not exist, or is it just that no one knows how to activate it anymore?”.
Alastor looked silently at Zestial. He couldn't determine if the ancient creature believed in those stories or not. But if that process really existed... perhaps. Unfortunately, he still had no way to verify it. Alastor inclined his head before speaking again, "Well. We can't really know. Anyway, all of this is just legends. It doesn't sound like these minor judges are very strong."
“Perhaps they don't have great destructive power, but it certainly was useful to have one as an ally. In addition to being able to modify or annul a contract, they also had access to the information of all sinners and angels. On the other hand, every judge has two basic powers. The oath and The mandate of the judge.”
"The oath?" Alastor asked, feigning disinterested tone. He was surprised at how enthusiastic Zestial seemed about this topic.
“Indeed. If a minor judge asked you to swear an oath and you agreed, you were bound to speak the truth. If you were to lie, the judge would detect it immediately and, if desired, could inflict great pain upon you as a consequence.”
“And the other one?”
"Ah, the judge's mandate? Or rather, known as the command. Basically, it entails the judge exercising their authority by issuing an order that cannot be disobeyed, as if a force were controlling your body. Of course, the scope and strength of this mandate depend on the power and rank of the judge. The mandate of a minor judge is usually not very strong, limited to simple commands like 'sit' or 'be silent', essential for maintaining order in a court, thus not very enduring. But that of a supreme judge... well, it is said that it was precisely that which condemned Lucifer to hell.”
“Well, I'll give you that. If these judges were real and contact could be made with them, they would clearly be a magnificent ally."
Zestial chuckled maliciously “Precisely, and I reckon all the sinners and demons had the same notion, wouldn't you say? It wouldn't surprise me if the big catastrophe were tied to millions of those minor judges getting corrupted or extorted by the infernal lot to reap benefits from the appeals, changing contracts to their whims. Well, but then again, none of this is quite verifiable or true. Right?”
Alastor didn't like the tone of voice Zestial used in that last sentence. The ancient being was beginning to suspect. Why was he suspicious now? He had been careful with each of his expressions. Could his memory of Victoria asking them for silence during the meeting with Charlie have caused some gesture that caught his interlocutor's attention? Alastor couldn't help but think that that request could have been a judge´s mandate subtly carried out by Victoria, implying that at least one of the powers mentioned by Zestial was true.
Alastor glanced at Zestial again just as he narrowed his eyes. Damn it. It wasn't time to think about that. That damned judge was making things complicated with this Overlord just by appearing in his memories. "Indeed!" he responded in an animated tone, trying to dispel the seriousness of the atmosphere. "After all, they're mere stories."
Zestial chuckled softly, "Yes, but it surprises me that you're wasting your time on mere tales."
"Oh, you all with your theories about me. It's a delight to hear your conspiracies. I simply wanted to satisfy the curiosity that arose in me after reading a dramatic work where they staged this Limbo," Alastor continued nonchalantly as he rose from his seat.
"Verily, I am acquainted with that tome," said Zestial, rising to his feet to accompany Alastor to the door of the conference room. "Indeed, it doth portray Limbo akin to the contemporary lore. Yet, one aspect hath ever intrigued me. Mayhaps I am overly fastidious regarding artistic license."
"What might that be?"
"Well, that literary work mentions seven supreme judges. Not five."
LINK PART V
#fanfic#alastor#alastor x oc#oc#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfic#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel 2024#radio demon#vivziepop#charlie morningstar#hazbin angel dust#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel fandom#Judgmentofthedamned
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Reasons why Ward is Wildbow's second-most Homestuck work
Chatroom prologues
Dream Bubbles
Widely-criticized ending?
Breaks story structure
Those freaky reality cracks
Reasons why Pale is Wildbow's most Homestuck work
Coming-of-age story centered around a small, specific number of 13-year-olds
Verona can't leave her room because her dad might give her a hard time (milder variations of this exist for the other two)
Cool spinny circles
Snowdrop is a Sprite
Paths are game-like worlds tailored to individuals?
Judges are recurring like denizens and major carapacian figures?
Breaks story structure
No seriously, Homestuck's whole themes of platonic idealism & ideas broken down into base atom-like elements vs. Pale's spirits as living ideas taking different forms in different contexts, different art styles as different lenses to view reality vs. the Sight + the different ways different people see the Paths, meaningful repetition, character elemental associations, the in-universe justification of narrative tropes and roles.... I could go on, a lot of the basic themes and concepts in Homestuck and Pale are VERY similar, far beyond the sort of jokey, hyper-specific parallels you could pull between any 2 stories.
#Parahumans#Homestuck#Ward#Pale Web Serial#Pale Spoilers#Ward Spoilers#Homestuck Spoilers#I can't decide if WB would have the patience for Homestuck#I think there was a reddit thread where he said it didn't seem worth it#but it might be worth reading the good parts and dropping it when it gets bad#special shout-out to Worm having the controversial bug girl control thousands to fight a god who's looking for his female counterpart#as one of those hyper-specific parallels you could pull
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A LOCATION HAS BEEN ACQUIRED
THE ROMAN ARENA, NIGHTFALL -- WRITTEN BY HAYLEY (DADLEY)
The night has been planned down to each and every moment. GERTRUDE had entrusted that to ANTONY and MALCOLM, with approval from both herself and ROMEO. The prince sits in an undisclosed location nearby, awaiting the outcome they’d planned for, and hoping to avoid the one they’d prepared for.
The formations are set as the quiet footsteps of HAMLET, SEBASTIAN, CELIA, and PORTIA sneak through the still cobblestone streets of this sleepy side of Verona. They separate into pairs, they lead teams of soldiers behind them, prepared for anything, praying for the simplest thing. MALCOLM knows better than to isolate the pieces on the board, having experienced firsthand the consequences of such. ANTONY does not argue, having dealt with him after such consequences befell him.
The acquisition of a former Witches property was not something worth risking everything over, not with the Hotel under their belts and the festival rapidly approaching. But the more ground they held over the Capulets, the easier they could rebuild all which had been brutally ripped from them. ROMEO especially, following the loss of To Tame A Soup months prior, could use a space to sow the seeds of his kingdom come.
Just because it was not something worth risking everything over, with all they prioritized, did not mean there was not risk in approaching this place, softly humming with the energy of the three powerful beings that once ruled it.
The light of street lamps and windows of still-awake denizens do not touch this place, for it is too far outside the city center, and thus the place one is not likely to expect a group of Montagues descending upon. HAMLET and SEBASTIAN are tasked with securing the perimeter and lead some soldiers north. CELIA and PORTIA are assigned to infiltrate and eliminate any threats or traps and lead more soldiers south. ANTONY and MALCOLM, not in any condition to be on the front lines, round out the soldiers in the back, guns drawn and ready to fire at anything that might oppose their determined goal to rule.
It should be quiet. Earlier surveys of the area hadn’t shown threats, but as they approached, they learned they were not the only ones with interest in this building. Dark figures with glinting blades and shanks, shining guns that were too easily handled to have no been used before. They showed no affiliation to Capulet or Montague, making them all the more dangerous – with nothing to fight for, they also had nothing to lose.
SEBASTIAN is the unfortunate one to discover their presence, first. Gunfire forces him to seek refuge behind one of the extravagant cars left behind, where a shootout ensues. One bullet whizzes by his hear -- it is a cacophony of chaos and a hail of lead. He is able to take control of the situation when HAMLET fires from the west, determined to save the pinned soldier from the encroaching wolves and ANTONY clears the threat from a distance. The pair charge on about the perimeter.
PORTIA successfully infiltrated the arena with CELIA and others, despite the commotion heard outside. It is not long before they find themselves facing off against those taking refuge inside the arena, determined to keep it out of partisan hands. PORTIA is an easy focus for them, with the symbol and status her face carries, and she soon found herself cornered by three of them, outnumbered in this fight. CELIA steps in boldly, and together, they fight off those who wish to stop them. Tired and bruised, the arena is finally quiet.
They slowly make their way out to join HAMLET and SEBASTIAN, who sent the last of those hoping to hold ground here running. ANTONY reaches them soon after, on alert to pick off any stragglers. MALCOLM is the final man of war to approach.
The signal is passed on, alerting those aware of the plan of the Montagues’ actions. All of Verona stirs in the midst of the night. ROMEO emerges from safety to join the others and claim this space for the Montagues, a space he may direct the purpose of. GERTRUDE considers this moment a victorious one. From the shadows watches CLAUDIUS, aware of the victory, waiting for the right moment to take advantage of the situation. All present feel success. All present feel hopeful.
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WHEN: October 30th, 11:39PM
WHERE: The streets of Montague territory
WHO: Closed @ofduvals
The night had barely just begun in Verona. Sure, the sun had said farewell to the city’s denizens what feels like forever ago, taking the blue from the sky along with it, and the moon had taken center stage hours ago, but this night was not dictated by stars that hung above the gods of these streets. It was not defined by those two warring gods upon opposite thrones, nor was it defined by the three witches who organized it. No, tonight was that of chaos, nefarious intentions signaling the start of the Purge, the eventual drying of blood on the pavement signaling its end. It was a lawless thing, Matthias could imagine, though he did not know it was something his father had known well, a night he never spoke of; perhaps he did so to protect his son from how evil Verona could truly become, or perhaps he had been silent for another reason, entirely.
Tonight, Matthias damned self-preservation, knowing that there was no more ideal night than to do what he’d been planning to do for so long: to do unto Mikael what Mikael had done onto his father. There were no consequences for such, no Montague to tell him this was unauthorized, no Capulet to punish him for taking one of their own, for evening out the playing field. Ferocity in his eyes, the angry fire growing to consume his heart, Matthias stepped out into the streets, dodging fists and dishing out a couple of his own to those who were foolish enough to believe they could take him. He didn’t know the first place to start looking for Mikael, who he assumed was on a rampage of his own with this wicked freedom, but before finding him, Matthias found Celeste, surprised to see her on the streets after what had happened the last time the Capulets became lawless in her presence. “Celeste,” Matthias called, taking long strides to approach – only it appeared as if someone else found her first, closer than Matthias had been and much greater a threat to his colleague.
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Congratulations Zodiac! We’re very happy to have you bring Terran Capulet here to caffeinate the denizens of fair Verona. Please complete our after acceptance checklist. We are looking forward to seeing you develop him! Please send in his blog within 48 hours.
The Capulet name which is dripping with elegance and luxury. Old money that carried an old name and an old reputation. A reputation that is usually pushed onto all Capulets and they all accept it without a fight. Why wouldn’t they? They were respected and people wanted to be them. But Terran was the one fighting back. He had always been a bit rebellious even at a young age.
Terran was a single child to two very loving parents. His father was strict but Terran knew that he cared. He was very close with his mother though. He always had been close with her and she said she always knew that he was a submissive even at a young age. Mothers could tell that sort of thing. Growing up he was placed in etiquette classes as well as art, science, math, literature, and politics. He excelled in the art classes more than any other class. Art and music seemed to be where he was going to in life and his mother was so happy for him.
But growing up he tended to get in trouble, especially with his father. He hated sitting in those classes. He would talk back and give his tutors attitude as well as his father. When he was a teenager he would snea out of the house and go and party with his friends. He didn’t want the reputation of being a Capulet because he didn’t want anyone to rely on him. He didn’t want anyone to be dissapointed in him when he screwed up because that’s what he did. He always tended to screw up.
Now that he was older he lived on his own in a place his father had bought for him hoping the independence would be good for him. He kept trying to push him to go to college and to get a better education but all Terran wanted to do was draw and paint. He didn’t want to go to school. He hated school and he knew his father wouldn’t approve of the dark paintings and drawings that he did.
So for now he was working as a barista in a coffee shop and doing his art on the side just trying to slide by. When the Prince announced the decree Terran knew his life might be changed forever either way. His father was pushing for a claim but Terran didn’t want a claim unless it came with love. He didn’t want to enter a claim for the sake of his family no matter how much he loved them. But he knew he might have to and he was dreading it.
Birthdate: February 14
Claim: Unclaimed
Children: No
What is their symbol?: Star and moon.
Kinks: Bondage, exhibitionism, orgasm control/denial, chastity, spanking, CBT, teasing, lingerie, ice, wax, toys, biting, crops, aftercare, edging, sounding, rimming, oral, teasing, being told what to do/tasks
Anti-kinks: Blood, knives, needles, bodily fluids, major pain, bruises
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WHEN: June 16th, 2018
WHERE: The Cathedral of Verona
WHO: Closed @laviniawen
Theodora was surprised to ever hear that name uttered by Capulets with ranks higher than they. It had been years since even they uttered that name, at least to the person it belonged to. It was once called out with caution as they ran after a young babe wandering off, thinking the world was her oyster when Theodora knew it contained no pearls. Once, that name wouldn’t have been thought of twice by any other denizen of Verona. Now, it was a name so common Theodora could not help but hear it so frequently. There was some pride in knowing what Lillian Wen had risen to, to see her becoming someone bigger than the world ever expected she could. Theodora had once made sure the streets didn’t eat her alive, and was pleased to see she had escaped its hungry jaws.
Now, it was surprising to see her joining them in the belly of the beast. They knew this did not match with the image Lillian had procured for herself, and they knew it well. Verona had put her upon a moral pedestal, one Theodora once thought seemed to suit her, recalling quite vividly every opinion Lillian had on their business, on their dream, no matter how unwarranted the words were. It’s why they hadn’t uttered her name in so long, no matter how commonplace it became. They had no place in her life, it had been made clear, and thus she would have no place in theirs. And yet, they were drawn together here, Theodora leaving a meeting and seeing the newest Capulet illuminated in the colors that spilled from the stained-glass windows. They could be pleased that she was here, that she had sunk low and that her image that once broke what they had did not truly suit her. Instead, they found themself wondering what caged this bird. “I haven’t had the chance to welcome you, yet.”
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Congratulations Vic. We are thrilled to welcome Reynard Montague to liquor up the denizens of fair Verona. Please complete our after acceptance checklist. We are looking forward to seeing you develop him! Please send in his blog within 48 hours.
Character
Name: Reynard Montague
Birthdate and Age: April 21/ he is 31
Preferred Pronouns: He/Him
Faceclaim: Charlie Day
Family Affiliation: Montague
Profession: Successful Bar owner
Claim: Unclaimed
Children: None
Designation: Dominant
What is their symbol?: Reynard has a watercolor tattoo of a 3 eyed Fox with a sword going through it [here] on his right shoulder. He also has a ring with Celtic knot work on the band with a fox running across it on one side and a shield on the other [here].
Kinks: Dirty talk, Slight daddykink(Likes being called Daddy), Pet play, Bondage, Light breathplay, Oral, Forced orgasm/Oragasm denial. Willing to try almost anything not on the antikinks so feel free to ask!
Anti-kinks: Gore, Vore, Scat, Pissplay
Biography: Reynard, or Rey as he prefers to be called, was born into the Montague family but only by chance. He’s not sure exactly what business his father did for a living, but whilst his mother was pregnant with him his father had gained the favor of the previous head of the Montague’s and they were brought into the family.
Growing up, Reynard had no idea of his parents fairly recent name change. Nobody in the family treated him as if he were any different or lesser than them. His personality developed into that of a charming jokester, getting into minor bouts of trouble with his friends while managing to be every parents favorite of their sons friends.
Around the age of 17 Rey realized he took more after his father than he thought, finding himself wanting a business of his own. He followed this passion and drive and ended up opening a small bar, The Foxhole, that offered good drinks, good food and good music. After a few years, and with the help of some great staff, the bar turned out better and more successful than he had ever expected.
Rey had never really thought about settling down, more prone to hooking up with a patron who flirted with him at the bar from time to time. Now knowing it was get a Capulet or get out Rey isn’t really sure what to do.
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