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eilonwiiy · 4 years

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Bookends ; a Witchlands AU

Chapter 5

Iseult is distracted from her encounter with Aeduan by a distressing phone call from home. Meanwhile, Owl leads Aeduan to the best coffee in Veñaza City. The only problem is the girl behind the counter doesn’t like him very much...

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

* . * . * . * .

Aeduan.

Iseult rolled the name over in her mind. When she’d heard someone approaching the Children’s Room, she never expected it to be him. She’d nearly forgotten about the bizarre interaction she’d seen him have with Evrane. Now, after seeing him up close, he was about the last person she ever would have imagined running into in the Children’s Room.

He was young. Couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. He kept his dark hair cut short and well-groomed. Skin almost as pale as hers outlined the hard angles of his face, clean-shaven and cutting a striking look. Despite his casual choice of wardrobe, he looked immaculate in dark fitted jeans, lace strapped books, and a worn burgundy leather jacket over a grey t-shirt haphazardly tucked into his jeans. It was only when he’d approached her desk was she able to fully appreciate the blue of his eyes. Where Safi’s were plundered from the depths of the sea, Aeduan’s were cut from ice. Yet, Iseult felt none of the chill.

And of course, there in his left ear was the peculiar opal earring. Iseult would hardly forget it.

Nor could she forget the look in the child’s eyes as he carried her out of the room. She’d never seen anything like it. Not from a child. They burned with a loathing uncharacteristic for a girl her age. There was something very unsettling about her.

Owl, that’s what Aeduan had called her. Another strange name. Maybe it ran in the family. If they were family, that is. They certainly seemed close. And who could she possibly be if she wasn’t his daughter? He was so young. Maybe she was his sister?

Iseult hadn’t actually overheard much from his conversation with Evrane. She was curious, but eavesdropping on a stranger was one thing. Eavesdropping on Evrane was another. Safi would have egged her on, just as she had the other day. But Evrane’s business was Evrane’s business and Iseult would never want to intrude. Instead, she’d distracted herself with trying to translate the storm of emotions she was feeling in a word document. She felt a little pathetic for it, but if she wasn’t able to talk to Safi, she’d have to settle for the responseless desktop.

Now that she was alone though…

Iseult looked down at the phone tucked away in her lap. She picked it up and saw there were several new notifications on the lock screen. Her heart stuttered at the name at the top.

Leopold.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Iseult still hadn’t called him. Or texted him. Or done anything that would demonstrate that she had some basic awareness of his existence.

Iseult swiped open the message and braced for the worst.

It was a picture of a cat.

Iseult blinked at it. Her heart relaxed, but after bottling up all her uncertainty surrounding Leopold for a week, it was a very small consolation. All she felt was… sad.

Why had she been avoiding him for so long? It wasn’t fair to him, and more than that, it wasn’t like her to be so careless. What was wrong with her? If she truly believed the drink he’d ordered her meant nothing, then there was nothing to be anxious about...

Unless...

Licking her lips, she typed a short response.

Iseult – 10:48 AM >> :) >> Sorry I’ve been MIA. I started working in the Children’s Room today…

OK. It was done. Granted, it was a pretty uninspired attempt at an explanation, but she had at least taken the plunge - that alone was helping to alleviate her anxiety. It was out of her hands now.

She was just about to exit out of the conversation to check her other missed messages when she was interrupted by an almost immediate response from Leopold.

Leopold – 10:49 AM >> It’s ok… for a second I thought you AND Safi were freezing me out. It’s cold enough out there - winter doesn’t need any help from you two. Not until I get my fur coat back from the dry cleaners, that is. >> Really? How’s that going?

For the first time all morning, Iseult smiled. His charm was infectious even in text. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him. And that ridiculous coat.

Still grinning, she swiped out of their message thread. She’d save that for her walk home. Something to look forward to.

The next message was a text from Ryber thanking her again for ordering the books she needed. After typing a quick reply, Iseult clicked the red exclamation point indicating a missed call.

It was from Alma.

Iseult’s smile instantly fell away. Everything inside her went quiet. She stared at the name for a long time.

If something had happened, if her mom was in trouble, Alma would have left a message. But even so…

Iseult swiveled out of her chair, walked over to Hilga’s office, and without a moment’s hesitation, knocked on the door. A gentle “Come in” answered her and Iseult opened door and poked her head in.

“Sorry to bother you, Hilga, but I just noticed a missed call from my mom’s friend. Would you mind if I give her a quick call back? It’s probably nothing, but-”

Hilga smiled in understanding and Iseult wondered if Evrane had told her about her family situation. “Go, go. You’re overdue for your break anyway.”

“Thanks Hilga. It’ll only take a minute.”

Hilga waved her off, rising from her desk and bustling around it to meet Iseult at the door. “Take all the time you need. How’s everything been out here? Did I miss any fireworks?” she added with a hint of humor.

Iseult was already halfway across the room, one arm in her coat sleeve, when the little black cat on the cover of the picture book Aeduan wanted to check out caught Iseult’s eye. Even though she was in a hurry to call Alma, she paused at its shelf and picked it up.

“No,” she said, shaking her head absently. “You haven’t missed anything at all.”

* . * . * . * .

Despite Owl in his arms, Aeduan was feeling lighter and lighter with every step he took. He was glad to be away from the library, though the distance was giving him the space to fully go over his conversation with Evrane.

His apartment wasn’t particularly close to the library, but he found that he needed the walk and was glad that he decided not to take the car. Like Owl, the car - a used Honda civic - was a new addition to his life. He couldn’t exactly attach a basket to his motorcycle and expect Owl to sit in it whenever they needed to go somewhere. And since he didn’t have his squad car anymore, well… it was an adjustment.

Yes, that’s what he’d call with agreement with Evrane, Aeduan thought to himself, kicking a chunk of snow on the sidewalk out of his path. Another adjustment. He’d handled every new thing that had come his way so far. He could handle this.

Of course, a car never fought back. Evrane was a different story.

Owl fidgeted in Aeduan’s arms. He held her closer; her fuzzy winter hat brushed up against his cheek.

“What would you like to do when we get home?” he asked her. “It’s almost 12 so we should probably have some lunch. What do you think? Strawberry or grape jelly?”

“Blueberry,” Owl replied.

“We don’t have Blueberry jelly,” said Aeduan, pretending that she wasn’t referring to that thrice-damned cat, or worse, about to cycle back to the Halloween book and rethink having a meltdown. A pale face curtained with black hair came to mind, and Aeduan’s dark brows pinched together. All that fuss just to get a library card. Ridiculous.

Now that they were out of the library and away from Evrane, Owl’s voice rang loud and clear. “Blueberry.”

Aeduan repressed a sigh. Time to change tactics. “I doubt Blueberry would like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It wouldn’t be good for his stomach. Remember when you ate too much chocolate and you were very, very sick afterward? It would be like that.”

This time Owl started tapping on his shoulder and, sounding a bit more fretful, insisted, “Blueberry.”

Aeduan halted his steps and twisted Owl in his arms so that he could see her face. His patience was already worn to the breaking point from the morning, and suddenly, it felt like his life depended on Owl not bursting into tears. “Owl, I’m sorry, I don’t-”

But Owl wasn’t paying attention to him. Her eyes were fixed somewhere behind him. Confused, Aeduan turned around to see what it was that had caught her interest.

On the sidewalk outside one of the storefronts was a chalkboard sign. Drawn on it in colorful chalk was a cartoon of a blueberry and lemon in a passionate embrace saying, “You’re my main squeeze!” Underneath it written in big bubble letters was an announcement: “Today’s pastry special: Blueberry Lemon Muffins!”

Aeduan’s head turned back to Owl. “Is that what you want? A muffin?”

Owl nodded emphatically and the comically oversized pom pom on top her head nodded along with her with the gesture. For the first time all day a small smile broke across Aeduan’s face.

“That,” he said, bopping her on the nose with his finger, “I can get you.”

Owl made a noise close to a squeal and curled herself back in on Aeduan’s chest. Excited. She was excited.

Triumph reigned over Aeduan as he walked them back to the coffee shop. He’d done it. He’d figured out what she was trying to say. Without Evrane’s help. The day was far from over, but as far as Aeduan was concerned, him and Owl had earned themselves a long afternoon nap when they got home, and possibly, nothing else.

A bell jangled overhead as he swung open the door and stepped into the coffee shop. Such an overly cutesy name like Jitters normally would have turned him off, but he had no problem buying an overpriced muffin if it meant keeping Owl happy.

It certainly wasn’t Starbucks. It had the kind of incohesive bullshit style of decorating that gave Aeduan a headache. None of the furniture matched. It was as if the owner hit every yard sale he could find, shelled out thirty bucks for what he no doubt thought were priceless treasures, and regurgitated all of it into the compact space. Aeduan eyed the shabby green couch sitting by the working fireplace distastefully; he could have sworn he’d seen something just like it out on a sidewalk recently.

Owl reached up to touch the bells hanging from the door, jostling Aeduan from his private thoughts and he realized that he was just standing in the doorway staring. He made his way over to the counter and the floorboards creaked under his boots. No one was at the register so he set Owl down by the pastry display and crouched next to her so they could look at the selection together.

“There’s the blueberry lemon muffin,” Aeduan said, pointing to a full tray of yellow-golden muffins so moist they were practically glistening. His stomach gave a hungry growl. When was the last time he ate? Did he have breakfast that morning? He vaguely remembered picking off a couple of Owl’s leftover Cheerios.

“Why don’t we pick out a few? Then we can have some for breakfast this week.”

Owl’s face pressed up against the glass was confirmation enough that this was a sound plan. He stood up, leaving her to salivate while he ordered.

Soft music filtered from a dingy radio next to the row of coffee machines. Aeduan looked around the near empty cafe. He didn’t see anyone that looked like they worked there - though, if the mismatched furniture was any indication, this probably wasn’t the type of place that forced their workers into uniforms.

Not seeing much of a choice, Aeduan knocked on the counter and called out, “Hello? Does anyone work here?”

There was a scuffle of movement, and a moment later, a tousled blonde head poked out from behind a sheet of fabric acting as a door off to the right of the counter. She looked surprised by his presence at the counter, which would have confused Aeduan, had it not been for the frown of displeasure it morphed into a second after. She made no move to come out from behind the curtain and continued to eye him suspiciously.

Aeduan cleared his throat.

“I’d like to order.”

“Alright,” the girl replied slowly, finally leaving her hiding spot and approaching the counter. “What do you want?”

Some better customer service, that’s what.

“Muffins,” Aeduan grunted. “Two blueberry lemon, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip-” Aeduan stopped and eyed the girl sharply. “Aren’t you going to write this down?”

Her eyes fluttered impatiently. “Don’t need to. Continue.”

But Aeduan didn’t continue. He stared at her, and for the longest time, that’s all he did. Just like he would any low-life perp.

That’s what he’d been known for back in his days at the Academy. Intimidation. Sure, he was formidable with a gun and anyone stupid enough to challenge him to hand-to-hand combat learned quite violently that Aeduan was the top of their class for reasons that had nothing to do with his father being the commissioner. But it was his presence, his overall being, that set him apart from everyone else. His sargent once chuckled after Aeduan had busted a long-time drug dealer in his first year that the perp in question had called him inhuman.

It wouldn’t be long before the barista cracked. Aeduan had yet to meet anyone who could stand to look him directly for more than a couple seconds - criminal or not.

Sure enough, the girl lifted her chin, her only act of defiance as she pulled a pad of paper from her apron pocket and plucked a pen from a chipped mug next to the register. With a mild expression, she clicked it’s retractable head and rested the tip on top of the pad, waiting.

Aeduan started from the beginning. “Two blueberry lemon muffins, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip, a corn, an apple cinnamon, and a black coffee to-go.”

“Size?” the girl prompted, not looking up while she wrote.

“Large.”

She jotted down his answer and was just about to turn around and get started when he caught her eye. He cocked his head to the side.

There was no misunderstanding his intent, and for a second, she looked like she was about to argue, but like a suspect resigning them to arrest, obediently rotated to face him and looked down at her notepad.

Aeduan smirked.

Just like a perp. They’re all the same.

Her speech was robotic and forced: “Two blueberry lemon muffins, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip, a corn, an apple cinnamon, and one large black coffee to-go.”

Aeduan tucked his amusement away just as the girl finished and looked up at him. He didn’t say anything, but nodded his approval for her to get on with the order.

Well. If there had been any mystery as to why she didn’t like him before, there certainly wasn’t one now.

It was with bitter satisfaction that Aeduan watched her scramble to collect the muffins he ordered. He couldn’t care less whether or not she liked him. She was a complete stranger. A barista. Certainly not worth the effort. But that didn’t stop the familiar sting of being treated less than human he’d encountered under worse circumstances than now.

When the muffins were boxed and the lid was closed upon the coffee cup, the girl rang up the items on the register. “That will be $18.72.”

Aeduan dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her a twenty. She punched a couple keys on the register, scooped out the change and handed it to him without looking at him.

As Aeduan tucked his wallet in his back pocket, it occurred to him that he wouldn’t be able to carry Owl with the muffins and coffee. “Can I have a bag for that?” he asked pointing to the pastry box.

This was a catastrophic inconvenience judging the eye roll the girl wasn’t quite able to hide as she ducked down beneath the counter and pulled out a paper bag. She placed the box into the bag. “There, how’s that?” she asked in such a falsely concerned tone that Aeduan almost said something he most definitely would not have done her the courtesy of hiding its true intent from.

Instead, Aeduan only grunted a confirmation. He could be passive aggressive too. If she didn’t want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t burden her with speech.

“Fabulous,” she heaved, and without another word, she spun around and escaped behind the curtain with a dramatic flourish.

Aeduan gave the tapestry a withering look before turning to Owl. She had moved on from the muffins and was now inspecting a row of decorated cupcakes.

“All set,” Aeduan announced. Better to put an end to this excursion before she got any ideas. Owl tore her gaze away for the cakes to look at Aeduan, slightly dazed. Then her eyes dropped to the big bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. Her face lit up and she quickly scurried onto her feet and climbed into Aeduan’s waiting arms.

Aeduan hefted Owl up, trying to make his hold on her comfortable as he could for himself with the addition of the bag on his arm. Once he felt like everything and everyone was secure, he reached for the cup of coffee on the counter with his free hand.

The bell tinkled goodbye to them as they left the shop. Snow had started to fall, harmless little flakes that disappeared the moment they touched the wet pavement. Hopefully it wouldn’t get worse before they got home. Aeduan paused outside the store to blow across the open hole in the cover of his coffee and took a tentative sip. Owl tried to catch snowflakes as he mulled over its taste, then he grudgingly took another, more generous, drink. He would have loved nothing more than to have hated it, just to get in one more shot at the barista, but hell-gates. It was good.

* . * . * . * .

The one problem with the library was that there were very few places to have a private conversation. While phone calls in the library were frowned upon for obvious reasons, the staff room didn’t offer much privacy either, as the kitchen where most people took their lunches was connected to the offices. So Iseult resolved to take her phone call out in the cold on the stone steps of the library. It had started to snow and Iseult wiped off the wetness on her phone screen. She’d been standing there for several minutes, mustering up the courage to call Alma back, and there was already a starscape of snowflakes on Iseult’s wool coat.

The universe was really letting her have it today. Bad enough that her morning had gone just as disastrously as she predicted: one angry man and a child she wouldn’t be surprised had already summoned a hex to curse her with. Now, this.

Iseult pressed the call button and lifted the phone to her ear. After a couple rings, Alma’s voice sang sweetly in her ear.

“Iseult,” she answered, sounding perfectly pleasant. “You got my call.”

“Yes,” Iseult responded stiffly. “Sorry I didn’t pick up. I’m at work. Is-is everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine!” Alma chirped, and even though that was good news, Iseult still felt uneasy. If nothing was wrong, then something else was up, and that was never good.

“Ok… does my mom need anything?”

“No, not really.” And then, Alma, who was always so composed and never stumbled over her words like Iseult did, flustered a little. “But well, I was thinking - hoping - that you’d like to come visit sometime. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen you...”

Alma trailed off, leaving Iseult to grapple with her conscious in the uncomfortable silence. She kicked her heel into the stone step.

That hadn’t exactly been an accident - her not visiting. Saldonica was far, and since Safi’s car was about as trustworthy as Chiseled Cheater, Iseult took the long train ride to get there. It was a convenient excuse to have on hand, what with it being a whole day affair, and a costly one at that.

Iseult must have taken too long to respond because Alma started talking again.

“I know it’s hard with you working all the time, of course,” she said. The understanding in her voice was so genuine that it made Iseult hate her a little more. “But Gretchya’s had some really good days in the last few weeks, and I just thought it’d be good for both of you to spend some time with each other. I know she’d love to see you.”

Iseult nearly laughed at that last part. Of course, this was all coming from Alma. Gretchya hadn’t asked for Iseult at all. She would have been stupid to have thought that to begin with.

Gretchya didn’t need Iseult for anything. Except for her money. Aside from that, she got everything she needed from the neat little package that was Alma. Before she became her caretaker, she had been more of a daughter to her than Iseult ever was. She was everything Iseult wasn’t. Every facet of her being was sewn together with a steady needle. Sharp in its precision and effortless in its design. There were no bumps to smooth out. No runs, no frays. Alma was flawlessly put together. Perfect.

“I- will try,” Iseult croaked.

“Of course,” Alma’s melodic voice flowed through the speaker, so at odds with Iseult’s. Then, she laughed lightly, “Scruff misses you too.”

If it had been anyone but Alma, Iseult would have thought she was trying to manipulate her into visiting. But Alma was above such tactics. Scruffs, her childhood dog, was the one thing she did miss in Saldonica. She’d give just about anything to see him. Before Safi came along, he had been the closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had. In fact, he’d been her only friend. The thought of Alma giving him all of his belly rubs and ear scratches caused Iseult’s heart to clench painfully.

“I’ll let Gretchya know that you’re going to look over your work schedule and get back to us, ok?” said Alma. She sounded happy.

Iseult nodded even though Alma couldn’t see it. “Ok.”

“Is there anything else you want me to tell your mom? How’s work?”

“Work is fine.” Iseult paused. Then, said, “I got offered a position in the Children’s Room. I just started today.”

A surprised gasp followed. “That’s wonderful, Iseult!” Alma exclaimed. “Gretchya will be thrilled.”

Doubt it. “Yeah. Listen, Alma, I should go. My break is almost over and I don’t want to be late getting back, it being my first day and all.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Alma hastened to agree. She sighed happily as though they had just shared the most splendid conversation together. “Well, let us know when a good time to visit is. We’ll be here. Take care, Iseult.”

“Right. You too.” And not knowing what else to say, Iseult hung up.

There were still a few minutes left in her break, so Iseult stood on the steps of the library, watching the snow coming down more steadily than it had before. Across the rooftops and the city horizon, grey clouds hung ominously, the promise of a storm in the air. Iseult tipped her head back so that all she could see was the white abyss of the sky. For a moment, it felt like she was suspended in the air. Nothing else existing. All there was was stasis.

Stasis in your fingertips and in your toes.

Iseult blinked, open-mouthed, against the snow falling into her eyes. Ice melted on her cheeks, running rivers down her jaw.

After, when she marched up the steps, she wiped them away.

She was Iseult det Midenzi, daughter of Gretchya det Midenzi, and she did not cry.

#the witchlands #witchlands #baeseult #iseult det midenzi #aeduan #safiya fon hasstrel #owl #aeduan x iseult #truthwitch #bookends #my fics #mine

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, JENNA! You’ve been accepted for the role of OLIVIA. Admin Rosey: Jenna, I don’t even know what I can say about this application. You had me slowly falling more and more in love with the Omi that you bring to us, which is perhaps incredibly apt due to the fact that I imagine many fall in love with Omi just the same way. All of us raved about this application and what it brought to the table, careful nuances that just screamed Omi. We’ve been waiting for an Olivia for so long -- a beautiful sparrow -- and you’ve brought them to us and given us more. I can’t wait to see what you do with our beautiful Sparrow! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Jenna

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I would say a solid 6-7/10. I’m currently on break from uni, so I’ll be around pretty much every day. However, once I go back to uni and my workload picks up a bit, I’ll probably only manage to get to replies every 2-3 days (I aim for every 2!), but I’m always around for plotting!

Timezone | gmt+10

How did you find the rp? | In the tags! I’ve been admiring this group for a while now and I’ve honestly had an application for Omi half-written for a few months and finally decided to just go for it.

Current/Past RP Accounts | This is one of my most recent character blogs, unfortunately the group closed recently which is why I’ve stopped writing the character.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Olivia, Yamamoto Omi

What drew you to this character? | Honestly, Omi was not the first character I was drawn to. I was considering applying originally for Hermia or Helena, but I stumbled upon Olivia’s bio while reading up on the lore, and I loved it. I liked that they had such a rich backstory, and one that was very unique within the context of the group. She’s had such tragedy in her life, but instead of it making her softer or making her retreat into herself, it’s made her tougher, and forced her to grow up very quickly and build a life for herself in order to survive. They have been so focused on their next move for so long that they haven’t really had a chance to look back and reflect on whether or not this life is really what they want – sure, being a Sparrow provides them with stability and feelings of control and power that Omi lacked for her whole life, but does it make her happy? That’s where I feel the character is at this point, and it’s a very interesting starting point for writing and character development. Often, I feel like I have a connection with a character, but I struggle to write them – with Omi, her voice came easily and writing up the responses to the IC interview was enjoyable, which I think really speaks volumes!

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

THE MISSED MARK; Omi’s identity very much centres around the work she does at the Dark Lady, and the fact that she is good at said work. They pride themselves on being able to build intimacy and trust with someone without every becoming attached to them, so that she can sell their information off to Mona without ever feeling guilty or wrong about what they are doing. I would love for her to meet someone at the Dark Lady who challenges her in this way, someone she goes after for information, but becomes unexpectedly attached to. This person would ideally share with Omi some information they wouldn’t normally hesitate to share, something that Mona would consider a gold mine. Her decision to either sell this person down the river, or betray Mona would very much tear her up inside, and I’d love to see someone as sure of themselves as Omi grapple with this decision, and the guilt associated with whichever path she chooses. It would very much make them question the work they’re doing at the Dark Lady, and their allegiance to this person and to Mona.

THE OLD CLIENT; I love the idea of exploring Omi’s actions coming back to haunt her. They’re a character who exudes a sort of confidence – they have to, in the line of work that they’re in. I’d love for Omi to be confronted by someone that she’s wronged in the past, in particular, a former client of the Dark Lady who she may have shared information about with Mona, leading to some extreme consequences for the character in question, and, eventually, leading to them wanting some sort of retribution against Omi in particular. She generally tries not to think about clients after she is done with them, tossing them aside and moving onto the next thing, trying to gather as much information about as many people as possible to build herself a vast wealth of knowledge. So, someone confronting Omi about what they have done and seeking some sort of retribution will do two things; it’ll scare them, and it’ll make them really think about what they’re doing. I love the idea of Omi really having to reckon with herself and the life she has built for herself in Verona. She sees herself as powerful… but is she really? Could they have done better, could they have found a better way to live? Is their work really all it’s been chalked up to be, or have they placed their loyalty in the wrong hands? As I’ve mentioned, Omi strikes me as someone very sure of herself, so having to question her own actions is something I would love to see from her.

THE LINE YOU SHOULDN’T CROSS; Omi’s greatest weapons are her words, and she’s very good at using them to get exactly what she wants. Whether it’s information from clients, or a free drink at a bar, or any number of advantages in their life, Omi uses words and their looks to get what they want. Omi hasn’t had to resort to violence very often in her life, and this is what she believes separates her from the people her father worked for, what elevates her to a level above the fighting barbarians in Verona, the fact that she is able to show some semblance of restraint. They keep their hands clean of the fighting, and of the war brewing between the Montagues and Capulets, very deliberately, focusing on their job and their job only. I want to see this resolve tested, whether being swayed to one side or another of the conflict, or needing to use violence to solve a problem. What will Omi do when she is reduced to the level of those in conflict both around her, and in her past? I don’t think they would react well to such guilt, to the compromising of what they believe about themselves.

these are just rough ideas, and honestly there are lots of different directions I can see this character going, many of which will be influenced by the characters she comes to interact with and plots that she becomes involved with!!

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I am definitely open to killing off Omi, though I would love to have a chance to develop her properly before doing this!!

IN DEPTH

IN-CHARACTER INTERVIEW

What is your favorite place in Verona?

“The Dark Lady.” They say without hesitation, as though the response were programmed into their mind before the question had even been posed. She shifts in her chair, posture straightening as pearly teeth chew on her red-painted lips - slowly, seductively. Even when they’re not working, Omi’s training doesn’t leave her. She doesn’t need to be at The Dark Lady to extract information - to see the way people squirm as she eyes them, beauty the most powerful weapon they possess - and they only one they need to. “The music, the dark lighting… it’s the sort of place where you don’t know what to expect when you walk in…” She trails off, soft hands finding their way to her hair, fingers twirling through dark locks as she spoke. “It’s a place where I feel in control. People come to see me, they’ll do anything, say anything to me, to please me.” Perhaps they give themselves too much credit, but never has Omi felt more powerful than when she’s working, sitting in the lap of a stranger who thinks to underestimate them, listening to whispered secrets uttered in passion with the capacity to burn cities. “Yes,” She repeats, voice soft and certain, “That’s my favourite place in Verona.”

What does your typical day look like?

“I wake up, I go to work, I come home, and I go to sleep.” A playful smile flits ever so briefly across Omi’s lips, carefully constructed, of course, as all things about her tend to be. “What do you want me to say? To spin tales of fantastical adventures in far-off lands?” She chuckles, light and airy, a sound that has been equated in the past to the soft ringing of a bell, full of light and love, even if the one producing such a sound is nothing of the sort. “I owe Mona everything, you know.” They say softly, a rare moment of sheer candor, one so very rarely seen from Omi these days. Her left hand has settled on the opposite wrist, drawing circles over the skin as they speak, soft and gentle. “So I work. Whenever she needs me. If I don’t? Well, who else will? Nobody else there has quite the same level of… talent that I possess. They can be clumsy, and forgetful. Our clients like me best, and so they should. They trust me.” Another soft laugh escapes their lips, “I’m at my best when I’m there, but I keep myself busy in between. Not all of my suitors are paying customers.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“I don’t tend to make big mistakes, nor dwell on the past.” Omi lies with ease, a smile flitting instantaneously across her face, gone just as quickly as it had come as she thinks, really thinks about the question being posed to her. “I couldn’t pinpoint a single one, you see. I haven’t made any life altering mistakes.. I’m too careful for that.” Or, at least, they liked to think they were. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d confronted my father about what he did for a living… I never questioned him about it. Not really. He knew I knew, he must have, but… we never spoke about it. Perhaps if I had asked him about it, if I’d asked him why, how he’d ended up there in the first place… maybe things would have gone differently. Perhaps I could have convinced him to get out while he still could, we could have left Japan, started a new life as a family. I doubt I would have ended up here… but I doubt things are that simple. If my father had any sort of choice in what he did, he would still be alive, and so would my mother. Perhaps it’s just my mind trying to make sense of things.. overthinking it all.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

“The first one.” She says, “My first mark at the Dark Lady. Some Montague boy, I don’t even remember his name. But he was young… naive. If it were now, I’d know exactly what to do, exactly how to get him to spill his secrets. He was about as easy a mark as they come… but I’d never done it before. Mona had explained to me what my role was to be at the Dark Lady… she’d coached me, and I was confident that I could do it. I know that I’m desirable, and I knew exactly the type of person this boy was… but I was nervous.” They laugh, a strange lilting sound, not quite pleasant, but not off-putting, either. “I’m never nervous. But after all the faith Mona had in me, after everything she’d done… I knew I had to do this right. I had to make sure that I did the job, and I did it well, to prove to her, to everyone, that she wasn’t wasting her time on me. I think I got into my own head, which is rare, for me… but I managed to do it. I don’t even remember what he told me, but when I told Mona, she just smiled and said, ‘good work,’. I didn’t see him again, and it got easier after that.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“It doesn’t concern me.” She says, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Though, I wouldn’t so much call it a war. If anything, it’s a contest of egos. Two families each trying to prove to one another that they have the most power. It’s almost petty. Real power doesn’t come from fighting, from guns or from money… real power is knowledge, real power is understanding another person completely. Knowing every crevice of their mind in intimate detail, being able to predict what they’re thinking, what they’ll say… what they’ll do.” They shake their head, “These people, they don’t know war. They don’t know pain. They’re playing at games they think they understand… but they don’t, and I doubt they ever will. The only people who suffer are their pawns, their underlings… there can’t be a winner if they’re not willing to have real stakes.” She sighs again, flicking her hair over her shoulder and adjusting her posture, “But, like I said. It doesn’t concern me.”

Extras: Pretty much everything I have for Omi can be found on her mock blog!! there’s mostly inspo on there, I haven’t had a chance to create any moodboards or playlists yet, but when I do, this is where they’ll go!!

Thank you so much for reading my application, I’ve admired this group from afar for a while, and I would love to get the chance to write Omi & write as part of this group!!

#accepted #accepted: olivia

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