"Chaos is a necessary piece of order."
Victor Volodimire Bluht Blood
26 | Scorpio ☼ | Witch/Vampire | CEO of Blood Corp | New York | Bisexual | Single
✫ ✫ ✫
Can someone have a crippling hero and God complex while still being a self loathing depressive? Victor will make you ask all those questions and more. He can be cold, dismissive and rude, but he cares almost too much about the people around him. He often goes far out of his way for supernatural folk generally, even more so if he cares, but he prefers to keep sentimentality to a minimum and often treats life as if it is a business transaction. He is incredibly intelligent and masterful in many arts but his self doubt and loathing often holds him back. Victor is desperate to be seen and make a connection, but nearly incapable of reaching that state of trust with the people around him- in his eyes people use you or they leave. Usually both.
Obscene wealth: more money than any god would know what to do with
Shadow manipulation: manifestations through dark matter
Incantation Magic: learned spells of many varieties, limited only by knowledge and learnedness
Apparition: teleporting short distances
Angurvadal: 'sword of anguish' is inscribed with Runic letters which blaze in times of war, but only gleames with a dim light in times of peace. Summoned by magic at will.
Vampirism: Victor does not see himself as a vampire and dedicates quite a few of his resources to attempt to 'cure' his 'condition'. The current suppression pills he is testing on himself limit his needs for blood, as well as any healing or strength derived from the vampirism. He does need blood, but not nearly as often and avoids feeding from people all together, seeing it as a intimate and frightful act.
Victor was born into blood, taking his mothers life with the start of his own on a chilly November evening. His father, a German immigrant and cold hearted businessman, never let him live this down, blaming his son for the loss of the woman he loved, he swore her sacrifice would not be in vain- Victor would be useful. Victor was raised by nannies and tutors the finest money could afford.
After all, the Bluht name came with wealth of its own, but upon leaving the failing German empire Stefen Hans Bluht wanted to better fit in and succeed in the American market, he had hidden away his lineage in favor of what he felt was a much more eye catching english word: Blood
A new empire, in his mind, and an empire he did build with a ferocity which earned its name- one he intended wholeheartedly for Victor to take over. He ‘prepared’ his son mercilessly, forcing schooling far beyond his grade, studying most of his childhood away.
Victor avoided him, and avoided angering him by any means possible, but the anger his father felt for him was unrelenting and often crossed the line into horrific abuse of unspeakable varieties, actions Stefen excused under the guise of building a warrior, a machine of impervious callus.
Perhaps he would have succeeded in building his monster if Victor had not found magick.
He was eight the first time he tried to make contact with his deceased mother, and though he was not allowed many hobbies and spent some of his later years in boarding schools he managed to hide the new world from his father. He managed to not only grow in it, but flourish. By sixteen he had made a provisional deal with a daemon Agremon. He would serve as a vessel for nearly three years, reaping the benefit of demonic power while paying its steep price.
He graduated with his first bachelor's degree in biomedical engineering, not even this bringing pride to his fathers eyes despite Victor’s obvious genius.
When Victor was sure he had secured his stakes in his fathers company he killed him, only a few months after his eighteenth birthday- becoming the youngest, wealthiest, CEO in history, overnight.
The board of directors nearly revolted, the investors pulled out in mass, but before his twentieth birthday he had doubled profit margins, developing multiple patents of his own design which restored interest from investors.
He became a celebrity, but he felt just as alone as ever.
So he ran away, the only way he had ever known how to in the past, Magick.
He experimented with drugs and drank himself into blackouts, but eventually Victor found community in a space beyond the realms of time, in a pocket dimension full of misfits like him. He joined a cultish military order, built around a egregore being, which helped free him of his demonic contract in trade of a new one. With this one he was given responsibility and power which he did not want to fumble, his desire to impress overwhelming.
But a young man of little wisdom and love, and far too much knowledge and power, he fell victim to manipulation, fell in love with an older man, Mick- a superior officer.
He lost his position, and the only family he had ever known- nursing those wounds he returned to New York in order to run his own neglected empire in earnest.
A few months upon returning Victor discovered two things: new love for an exceptionally normal man of his own age, Maxwell; and a brother, Jonathan.
His father had a second family, one he had apparently quite cherished- but after the untimely death of the boy's mother his only blood relative was Victor… much to the young witches surprise.
For a few years things were good.
Victor played family and business man by day, and Master of the Dark Arts by night.
He opened the Covenstead Cabaret, a magical lounge, in the undergrounds of his newly erected Serenity Tower- a beacon of green energy and mind bending architecture built around the concept of bringing nature to the city. He started the Major Arcana, a group of young supernatural being whose primary mission was to help displaced youth of their kind and fight off those who wished to cause harm.
He built his empire of magic attop his fathers own empire of blood, he used the darkness of his past to fuel new initiatives, first in New York, then beyond.
But things are rarely good for long, an attempt on Victor’s life left him so close to death that his partner begged one of the Vampires they knew to change him, sure the only recourse for his state was such a drastic measure.
Vampirism was not an affliction which Victor took to with any joy, and it put a horrific strain on his relationship with his partner.
As they danced closer to their wedding date, Victor found more and more that he felt like an imposter- pretending to be a hero, a leader. He had a family, he was to have a husband, he led a team of supernatural beings who trusted him and his company practically ran itself at this point. And yet he felt Max only cared for the hero he expected Victor to be, an image he could never uphold.
Victor was already unsure and isolating when his old superior officer resurfaced, he accepted his offer for drinks- part of Victor wonders still if he knew what it would lead to..
How one drink would lead to two, how he would be encouraged to vent, told he was right, Max took advantage of him, Max wanted him to be something he wasn’t…
But being with Mick didn’t quell those doubts and fears, only sowed them.
With the sanctity of trust lost his partner left him, something which drove an inevitable wedge between Victor and his brother, who had taken to the much more motherly and nurturing Maxwell.
In the aftermath Victor dedicated to his mission of building his empire, in the way he knew was best, and curing himself of what he felt like was a disease.
Victor lives in New York, in a penthouse in Serenity Tower, he runs his Biomedical Engineering company, and the Major Arcana; a group of otherbeings who help Victor to run his missions and reach his visions.
Victor wants to unite the human and supernatural world, but realizes such a lofty goal can not be reached until there is structure to Otherbeing societies. Victor hopes by replicating Serenity in major cities across the world he can begin to build some foundations to a global community for Non-human kind, in the hopes of bringing them from the broom closet.
This manifests in a lot of charity work on Victor's part, he seems to adore collecting strays and giving them homes in his tower. He rarely expects return, often he sets up Otherbeings for free, helping them to intigrated into human society better so they feel less of a need to harm people or themselves.
Some are offered jobs with him, others are set up for success and end up leaving, some of those that he becomes closest with become inducted into the Major Arcana.
New Beginnings | Innocense | Free Spirit
~4(years of physical manifestations) | Elemental Winds of the Southwest | No Occupation (close associate of Victor Blood) | New York (No home location) | Nonbinary | Demisexual | Single
Intuition | Unconscious | Inner Voice
21 | Cancer | Boski (Witch/Healer)| Employed by Victor Blood | New York (Originally Nepal) | Bisexual | Single
Motherhood | Fertility | Nature
600 | Dryad | Employed by Victor Blood (Project Changeling) | New York (Original Grove: Allouville- Bellefosse, France) | Lesbian | Single
Authority | Structure | Control |
Neal Jared Jefferies
45 | Taurus | Alchemist | Former SAS, Freelance | New York (Originally London) | Homosexual | Widowed (not looking)
The Hanged Man
Sacrifice | Release | Martyrdom
Iain Neiall Stroud
536 | Leo | Incubus | Freelance Photographer | New York (Originally Glasgow) | Pansexual | Poly (single)
The Middle Path | Patience | Finding Meaning
24 | Aquarius | Selkie | Employed by Victor Blood (Project Changeling) | New York (Originally Lough Neagh) | Bisexual | Single
Excess | Materialism | Playfulness
22 | Capricorn | Cursed (Demon) | Employed by Victor Blood | New York (Originally Vatican Rome) | Biromantic Asexual | Single
Hope | Faith | Rejuvenation
Wyatt Arnold Cooper
23 | Virgo | Human (Enhanced) |COO of Blood Corp | New York (Originally Boston) | Homosexual | Married
Unconscious | Illusions | Intuition
24 | Virgo | Servant of Loki: Chaos Witch | Employed by Victor Blood | New York (Originally Vanrdyrr) | Lesbian | Single
Joy | Celebration | Positivity
26 | Libra | Akashik Librarian (Owl Shifter) | Sociologist Student | Atlanta (Originally Nigeria) | Homosexual | Taken
Reflection | Reckoning | Inner Voice
Jebediah Buck Kezar
24 | Leo | Lycanthrope | Psychology Student | Atlanta (Originally Covington Georgia) | Homosexual | Taken
Fulfillment | Harmony | Completion
~900 | Imp | Hive Mind: Leader of Mimics | New York | Pansexual | Poly (single)
Accepting New Roleplays
Zach would probably follow a stranger into a dark alley should he be beckoned. Not much thought happens between point A and point B when it comes to Zach. It's a hard truth that has gotten him into trouble more than he cares to admit. This, however, seems like less of a mistake and more of a curious incident. Never before has he met someone quite like Victor; he carries himself with a confidence that feels infectious and is shrouded in an intensity that Zach can't conceptualize as offputting. Endearing, maybe.
Not moving from his station, Zach's gaze follows Victor as he shifts from spot to spot. It's an odd thought that this good-looking guy had invited Zach out here because he is attracted to him. Not that Zach thinks little of his looks, rather, he's rarely approached by men so boldly. He watches Victor watch the water in the small pond. Wonders in brief silence what it might be like to kiss this practical stranger here on the balcony overlooking the city, then throws the idea out of his mind. A pause.
He entertains the thought again, perhaps a little longer than necessary given he's in an active conversation and his sudden silence may be incriminating. He wonders if he's staring now, so he blinks hard and looks down. "No," he answers a little too late, a little too loud. It makes him cringe and he clears his throat, but he feels like he's on the verge of panicking now because his face is heating up. "No, I just didn't realize... but, I wouldn't have not come here even if I did know," he says.
His gaze lowers to the offered cigarette pinched between Victor's fingers. Hesitation only flickers for half a second before Zach accepts it, finding that the way it fits between his fingers is familiar despite how long it has been. It's the first time he's smoked such a blend, so when he inhales he is pleasantly surprised by the softness of it. Typically it burns his throat and scratches someplace inside his lungs, but none of that comes. There's just a feeling of full fogginess followed by the taste of lavender on his tongue. After two puffs, he coughs and hands the cigarette back.
Victor's dismissal of Zach's empathy toward his late father sparks a feeling of... something. Whatever that emotion is, it hurts. But Zach would rather not dwell on the parallel of deadbeat dads drawn between him and Victor. He shakes it off by quickly reminding himself it doesn't matter.
Twice before he was offered help with his shadow friend and both times did not end well. All that digging into his psyche and physical body felt as if it did more harm than good. So, he's not sure how to feel about Victor's proposal to help him. Zach tilts his head with a frown on his face as if contemplating how to respond. Maybe they could... "We could be friends?" He says, his tone making it sound more like he is confused rather than suggesting something.
Ah, friends don't look at him like that. The touch on his chest makes him tense and he doesn't dare lift his gaze off the other man's face. "Uhhh," he drones, unable to find enough sense to string together something coherent at first. "Because you... asked me?" He says, utterly bewildered and confused. He's now thinking of all the times his friends mocked him after completely blowing up any opportunity to get laid because he couldn't take a hint. He sighs at himself.
(Thank you for the addition. I am new here and excited to expand Evangeline's circle. Evangeline and Victor could align rather well. Happy to ideate anytime!)
Out of all the things Victor says, Zach clings to one detail. Perhaps he should pay more mind to the pieces of information that pertain to himself, yet he can't stop the pang of sympathy that rings through him. With a gentle expression, he says, "I'm sorry about your father."
Smoke billows around Victor as he takes another drag. The smell is more pleasant than not; reminds him of his old college friends sitting in a room bare of furniture and laughing about the fact they're laughing about nothing. Alex had also been present, but the stress of holding that secret had felt lighter back then. Probably because Zahch had been happier. He unconsciously steps toward the smell of smoke, desperate for a reminder of better days.
"Alex isn't bad," Zach explains, confusing Victor's explanation with the intent of eluding to the shadow being maleficent.
"To be perfectly honest, I don't even know if he is good. He's just.. there. The others, uh..., people who tried to help me before, they said he's a curse. Probably demonic, but.." he trails off, pausing to look at the shadow that hasn't moved an inch.
"The people that have tried to help me have hurt me more than he ever has," he adds, voice quieter.
A break snaps in the intensity of the conversation when Victor oh-so-casually compliments Zach. Although hardly the first time he's been called handsome, it insinuates deeper meaning. Had Victor meant to hit on Zach? Surely not. There must be something here that he is misinterpreting. Intent on recovering from his temporary fluster, Zach clears his throat loudly.
"No, I- nobody really knows. But, I guess there's you now?"
A sense of calm descends upon Zach when it is confirmed that Victor is unfamiliar with Georgia. The reality is that Georgia holds no significance to the group Zach is wary of, but hers is the only name he knows. Foolish as it may be to relinquish his suspicions, Zach prefers to believe that Victor is a good person. It's a more enjoyable thought than the alternative. So, he takes a breath, slides his hand out from Victor's, and raises the other to finish off his drink.
Through Victor's questioning, Zach stares at him with an open expression that has him looking more lost than anything else. The other man sounds knowledgeable; at least more than Zach himself. It surges a feeling of interest. For Zach, it feels like curiosity, but even more frightening than that, it feels like hope. He's been here before. Watched eyes dart between him and the shadow, was prodded at with tools, and promised an answer. The memory exhausts him enough to make him sigh aloud.
"His name is Alex," he offers lightly, "that's what I call him."
There is much more to Victor than meets the eye, Zach realizes. With a tilt of his head (oddly reminiscent of a puppy), he asks, "what exactly do you do?" Whatever it is, it seems to include pamphlets. He hones in on the wording; our kind. Searches his mind for further meaning, comes up with nothing, then settles on a confused frown directed at the other man. How Victor can speak of all of this in such an.. unbothered tone is throwing him off. Unsure where to go from here, Zach is speechless.
Zach continues to linger at the railing, reluctant to give up on the view of the city. A breeze moves through his hair and the chill from it that soon follows prompts him to finally step away from the balcony edge. He glances at the small garden, lush greens with blooming flowers. Zach doesn't know anything about plants, but they are pretty.
The garden is a lot less attention-grabbing with Victor stepping deeper into Zach's personal space. He snaps his gaze to the other man, an open sort of curiosity filling his eyes. Realizing his mistake with his wording, Zach flushes a shade of red. "Shit, sorry, I'm not depressed," he awkwardly laughs, turning his gaze downward in an effort to stop himself from looking at the shadow. But where he does not look, Victor does; and this time Zach notices it.
Several emotions bubble up and all of them take turns flickering in Zach's expression. Confusion, shock, relief, and finally horror. He wills himself to not choke on the lump of swelling panic and steps back quickly. A hand stills him, and while Zach has a mind to wretch himself out of it, the gentleness of it freezes him where he stands. As if rejecting Victor's words, he shakes his head and subtly turns his body away in an unconscious way of communicating his distress.
"This is not... I'm not - that's - I don't know what you're talking about," Zach shuts his eyes, hoping to God that Victor will believe his obvious lie.
When he opens his eyes, he looks at the inky shadow and squeezes Victor's hand fiercely. The shadow is unresponsive to Zach's panic. It stands with its large body hunched forward, arms so loose they almost sway with the light breeze. Black upon black wisps curling around themselves to make up an imitation of a human form; an intimidating sight for some, perhaps. Apparently, not so scary for someone like Victor. Uncertain, Zach glances back at Victor.
"You're not with Georgia, are you?" Ah, Zach realizes. He's feeling hopeful.
"I get it," he says in a moment of empathy. Zach's understanding of Victor's relationship with substances is learned through proxy. There are all sorts of people in college and Zach had been a social butterfly. People will have all kinds of reasons, some more understandable than others, for why they dance too close to the edge. It is not in his nature to pry into a stranger's reasons, so Zach minds his own business. He's got other things on his mind, after all. Like, for instance, calculating how much he can drink so that the shadow slips from the forefront of his mind. It's a delicate balance between that and passing out on the floor.
A soft laugh escapes him when Victor offers some empathy. At times it feels ridiculous when people attempt to understand Zach's concerns when he believes there is no way they'd know what he does. How could they when he cannot talk openly about his problems,? Not without risking sounding insane, anyway. Even so, Zach always appreciates the friendly acknowledgment. Taking a sip of his drink robs Zach of the moment Victor's eyes veer off to their unannounced company. He turns only once Victor's gaze is back on him. "You're a very nice guy," he says with a lilt of amusement that makes the statement sound light and playful.
When a hand slides across Zach's stomach, he visibly tenses. He does not mean to react the way he does, but he's not able to stop his back from straightening so fast that the drink in his hand sloshes. Recovery is found in Victor's playful wording, and Zach relaxes once more. He steps forward, easily goaded into following the other's lead. "I might actually install that wallpaper, you know. A little inside joke," he teases.
I̴̧͓͙̦͎̋́͂͝ ̶̞̭̠̪͇̳̻̺̦́̿͗̒̀̍̒͗̅͌s̶͖̣͈̱̥͓̝͖͕͆̉̀̈ę̵͉̞͕̾̏̿̏͌̽̇̈́̈́͂ͅȇ̷̱̔̿̎̋̍̈̚͝͝ ̶̮͇͖̈́̈̓͠͝ą̶̡̯̪̤͙͙̯͖͐̏̏̅̎̒̏͠ ̶̜̭̘̎̈́͝g̶̩̰͓̩̱̾̚͜ͅh̸̘͙̩͚͖͐̊͝ŏ̸̡̫̯̻̱̐s̶̻̯̈́̒̆̆͝t̶̹̘̬̼̭̻̓̈́̕͜,̴̭͙̘̺̲̳̩͖̿͆́͐̔̒̉̇͝ ̴̧̟͈͂͂͌̏̃͂ͅI̴̮̱͓͇̹͍̭̎̈́̀̊̍͒̿̿ ̵͍̝͚̰͙̇̂̆̽̓͐ŝ̵̨͖̖̲͆̓̕̕ẻ̸̘͖̙͓̠͇͕̳̳̈́̈̀͜è̸̬̣͋̀̓̊̐ ̴̲̖̘͊̇̃̓͝a̴̧̜͎͓̙̩̽̎͗̀̋̒ ̵̮̮̟̮̭̻̩͈̈͗͒g̷̞̥͕͕̦̼̺̽̔̆͜͝h̸̛̪̲͔̣̟͛̆͒̇̈́̔̅͜ͅṓ̴̭͔̻͉͓̜̼̈́͊̅ṣ̴̜͈̗̠͙̗̕t̶̺͇̜̤́.̵̧̞̙̻͍͔̈́̂̉̎̋͑̚͝ͅ.̶͕̣̬̝͇̞͚̈̄̿͋̏͘
Irritated by the shadow's unhelpful input, Zach feels his jaw tick. He's sure that the presence is not a ghost. Why on Earth it insists on Zach believing that is beyond him. A weird joke? He sighs. At that moment he decides that some honesty wouldn't hurt. Zach can play it off as a joke, he supposes. (The drinks have lowered his inhibitions by this point.) "No matter where I go," he starts, realizing that he can't go back now, "there's this... thing that follows me around. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but some days it's all I can think about."
He mentally prepares himself for the stairs. Although far from drunk, he'd hate to slip in a moment of clumsiness and drop the drink he was handed. As they both climb to the stairwell, he briefly eyes the drink in his hand with rapt intrigue. Wonders to himself what the name must be since Victor had only given the bartender instructions. The question is forming on his lips, but when he lifts his head he feels the cool breeze of the night comb through his hair. He looks out to the city where twinkling lights glow in the dark all around them. Noise moves through the air like a hushed whisper. The air feels nice. Zach breathes in and lets his shoulders relax visibly. He forgets all about his question and the inky shadow hovering near the door.
Tipping forward in an effort to soak in more of the view, Zach braces his forearms on the railing and smiles.
"Depends on the extracurricular," Zach says, accustomed to this kind of talk. Without moving from his position, he tilts his head to look at Victor. "I won't stop you if you want to. Half of my friends are already on coke and molly. With my headspace right now," Zach cringes briefly at his own emotional transparency, but doesn't stop, "I can't do any uppers. Too on edge."
Then, he sighs and pushes a hand through his messy red waves. "I wish I was more excited about winning the game." From behind, Zach hears a soft click echo from the shadow that still follows him. "I'm mostly tired, instead," he explains, lying. Sure, he's tired. But that's made only true because of the anxiousness bubbling beneath the surface. Thinking the drink might help, he finally tries a sip. It's good, he thinks.
"Sorry, I might be drunker than I thought if I'm talking so much," another lie. He's always chatty. Nevertheless, he smiles again and turns so that his hips and back are leaning on the railing and the city lights are behind him. His eyes don't leave Victor. If they do, he worries he'll glance at the shadow often enough to rouse suspicion. Instead, he investigates the man's face closely and commits the details to his memory purposefully. The color of his eyes, the way the corner of his mouth tilts, and the slope of his nose. Zach figures Victor must be the bachelor type, yet he seems nice enough so far.
[I know it's been a long time coming, but I'd like it if we could pick up from where we left off so I continued where we left off.]
Quick to adjust to the change in pace, Zach follows Victor toward the bar. The menacing figure hovering near Zach turns its head as if it had eyes to watch the two men step out from the shadows and into the crowded room. After a beat or two, it waddles its large figure after them like an old puppet on strings.
Zach laughs good-naturedly at the mention of an evil rich father - his mind propelled into a memory of heroes and villains from the comics he once used to read. Once they reach the bar, Zach leans both forearms on the counter and turns his head to look at Victor. He shakes his empty glass as he answers, "just beer for me. Unless you have a good recommendation that isn't vodka."
“And if you want to get away from the party but …not seem entirely depressed there is a small garden on one of the balconies.”
He perks up at that. It's not that this room is particularly crowded, but the weight of the shadow insistent upon attaching itself to Zach's hip is having an effect. Most days he can tune it out like white noise, but today it looms loudly like a deep burning shame he feels he must keep hidden at all costs. A breath of fresh air might make him feel better. "I didn't know there was a balcony," he says, aware of how eager he sounds but not caring. "Can you see the city lights from there? I haven't had a chance to see any sights since I've been in the city."
(Apologies for vanishing like that, life suddenly swept me away. Life's a bit calmer now so I'll have more time to sit down and write. But if you'd still like to write, I'd love to continue plotting!