Currently
- Dominic | NYC
- Gleeon | Sundown Bar & Cafe, Manhattan, New York
- Jett | Unknown (NYC)
-Synova | Sundown Bar & Cafe, Manhattan, New York
Thoughts
- Dominic | "You're cute when you want me to stay." | 100%
- Gleeon | "Spill it before I spill your guts." | 100%
- Jett | "Shut the fuck up and answer me." | 100%
- Synova | " ... " | 5%
- - -
"Karma" | "Bitch" | "Brat" | "Miss Skellington" | "Smalls" | "Ms. Chiot" | "Don Karma"
♀
27 years old
5'7 ft
Ex - Bounty Hunter | Currently: Mafia Boss
Demon - Dire Wolf / Human
____________________
"Underestimate Me, That'll Be Fun."
[ Chaotic Evil Neutral || ESTJ || Scorpio ]
She was inevitable
She was ruthless
She embodied the definition of karma
Let her play, or get the fuck away.
After undergoing rehabilitation at the Hunter Society Headquarters, her irrational behavior and destructiveness simmered down immensely. It's as if she's a different person, but it doesn't mean her violent tendencies have escaped her. In fact, her being calmer just makes her all the more deadlier. She used to whistle for people to hear her approach, but now with a clearer mind makes for a quicker, more strategic approach in taking down targets. Agnes' reputation still stands as an insane, trigger-happy monster to strangers trespassing her territory and most of the underground, and proving them wrong makes her job all the more pleasurable.
She's cold, stark, and brutally honest with strangers. If you aren't a nuisance, you're competition, and if you put up with her just enough, you may even befriend her. This is harder for women than it is for men, not that she prefers one over the other, but the fact that the intensity of her Type A personality tends to spark conflict or drive them away. To her friends, Agnes is compassionate and a little silly even, teasing them in a playful manner.
However, she is incredibly selective of the inner circle she maintains. Agnes is a New Yorker with a spitfire attitude
that lies beneath a calm, sophisticated demeanor.
_____________________________
"I Call Shots, While You Call Off."
Her past is dark and twisted, the entirety of her childhood was devoted to becoming a trained marksman for a corporate mafia family in Manhattan, NYC. One event led up to another for the next four years, an organized coup occurred that she took part in, dissolving the family's name, yet the business was immediately taken by her drill instructor that he withheld. Agnes remained close to her former instructor and to the details of his business.
Nine years later, his assets were choked by another mafia boss attempting to his usurp his resources. Agnes was told to murder her former instructor, with some help, as he was about to give in to this interloper's demands. After his untimely death and successfully disposed of the intruding mafia boss, Agnes finds herself with more power than she had ever asked for. She now runs half of the borough's manfacturing, shipment, and transactions of weapons of trade. Agnes knew enough about the quality of artillery, but didn't know she would be knee deep in the arms industry.
Her territory stretches from the Upper West Side to below Hell's Kitchen. Her colleague, Apollonius Grimm, has the other half, as equal as it can get. With a calmer demeanor, Agnes attempts to not abuse her power. Her hands don't get as dirty as her previous job, but at times she will personally check exports and is conscious about the safety of her men if a transaction goes awry.
Another source of income for Agnes is being the co-owner of a bar and cafe called Sundown. It was once a rustic, narrow bar in Hell's Kitchen, but after getting her new occupation, it has moved into Columbus Avenue in the Upper West Side. Her bad reputation and mysticized beast form has made the bar an attraction for tourists, Agnes blames the locals for this. She used to be the bouncer for Sundown, but after the notoriety began, Spencer, co-owner/parental figure, took up the job to prevent anymore unwanted attention coming her way. Sundown is the ground level entrance to high-end apartments above it where Agnes resides, so she is typically seen there for leisure or to converse with Spencer.
_____________________________
"Catcall And You're a Corpse."
Agnes wears light, breathable clothes when running through the streets, and isn't afraid to show some skin, even in the coldest weather. Her raven locks spill over her shoulders, lacking any dye as she has decided to keep her natural hair. Agnes has metallic blue eyes like her father and pale skin like her mother. A dull tattoo of three roses and an upside-down compass lies just below her right shoulder.
She has something close to a Jersey/Brooklyn accent. When the wolf skull materializes, so do a pair of wolf ears, serving as a great indicator of her emotions due to the fact that her face is concealed. Agnes's physique is lean and toned, free running through allies and parkour on rooftops. She has enhanced senses, her most powerful is being able to smell someone familiar three city blocks away. The wolf grants her increased endurance, stamina, speed, and strength.
...
"That's Not All, Folks."
Agnes can shift into a hellish creature that she inherits from her mother, a massive dire wolf with some areas of her skeleton revealed. She has already allowed the wolf to swallow up her humanity at a young age, being in complete control in this form that acts almost like a power-up. However, there are consequences when using the wolf, one being that she is stuck in this form for the next couple of days and once reverted Agnes becomes immensely lethargic, becoming vulnerable to her enemies.
"I hear its voice."
_______________________________
"And in the middle of my chaos, there was you."
- Greysexual -
[ x 1 - Taken ]
⚜️
"Chaton" | "Dom"
Dominic has been the quickest relation Agnes has ever made. It started off with a debt after Dominic gave her a job to do, but they found themselves around each other more often than not. The vampire knows more about her than anyone she's ever met, and she trusts in him to maintain that secrecy. Complicated feelings floated to the surface, Agnes has never been more sure of her feelings. She has always adored the vampire, but with issues of his coven coming to light, Agnes can't imagine her life without him. She loves him, more than words can explain, and will do everything in her power to keep him close and comfortable.
____________________
"Wanna Know A Lil' More?"
• Due to help in unlikely places, Agnes and her demons are one and the same. Her blood is black, and too toxic to harbor a child, so she believes. Another result are two new powers. One being the ability to manipulate shadows for her to hide in and travel in short distances beneath its veil. The other being an increase in strength.
• Agnes is just as deadly without her ammunition. While she was learning how to handle a sniper rifle at the age of twelve, Agnes was being trained in Brazilian ju-jitsu, eskrima, as well as parkour to build her stamina and endurance while she was in the mafia. She was pitted against full grown, trained men over and over until Agnes became highly proficient at all three.
• Agnes is fluent in English, Italian, and French, and understands bits and pieces of Japanese from her instructor when she was younger. She's eager to have more languages under her belt.
• Agnes prefers to adopt her father's last name, 'Hale'. She knows she has relatives, but they all stem from her mother's side, who she disowned.
• She never had a childhood, pop culture references fly over her head. That's in the works of being fixed.
• Her birthday is on Halloween
- 21+ (I can not stress this enough)
- The thoughts and actions of my character do not represent my own.
-This is fictitious content, anything related to actual experiences is entirely coincidental, that being said don't steal
-You add, you start.
-Paragraphs preferred, but one-liners are accepted.
-Godmod all you want, I'll do it right back.
-Agnes can become very vulgar, so if you drop our rp, I'll understand.
-Default setting: A city, unless given good reason not to be.
-The idea of Agnes and her storyline belong to me, all other pictures belong to their rightful owners.
- Don't feel pressured to send replies to me as soon as you get them, life's messy and comes first. I try to reply within two weeks, but that may be subject to change depending on life events and inspiration for a specific thread.
- OOC info: I've been doing this hobby for over 10 years [ this hobby is absolutely not addictive ], I owe it to writing for making me meet new people I never thought I would ever get the chance to talk to irl, and for giving me a sense of vocabulary and the awareness that I need to read more. As a writer, I believe I still have a lot to learn, so if there is any critique in my writing style to be said, please let me know.
-I'm a Discord mod for the Wrealms server (Angus/Nemo). Agnes might be intimidating but I try not to be, if you're interested in writing, I'm usually more open to discussion there.
F A N | A R T S
Kei: [IMG]
Alice O'Malley: [IMG1], [IMG2], [IMG3]
Tsunami: [IMG]
Creo: [IMG]
FC: Kaya Scodelario | VC: Black Cat - Spider-Man . PS4
Comments
.: Thank you for the request. I know it's been minute since it's been sent, but I appreciate it :.
Her mind was her kingdom, Synova knew those rules.
– And this was clearly a queen who knew how to rule her kingdom
Attention embarked upon the girl and the looming figure behind her. Synova’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued despite the uncertainty of what floated before him. He was always wary of the unknown, yet the declaration of the GAME ignited a surge that had been dormant within Synova for so long.
The fox followed the girl’s finger and lifted his gaze upwards. Like a true animal cowering before a striking hand, the fox’s ears pinned flat while the entirety of the city came crashing down. A few groggy blinks brought him back to his senses, and Synova became aware of the new surroundings.
FEAR had not yet been born. A violent sensation boiled from somewhere undefined -;; it pushed against his chest and rose past his throat in the form of a rumbling growl. The fox rose to his paws, and the shadows that stitched his being became increasingly unsteady. His anatomy seemed to vibrate, glitch and tremble. Tendrils of shadow whipped and lashed from his form, further warping it into a figure that barely contained its shape. A GRIN split his head in two, which brandished an array of teeth that seemed far too large and far, far too many for a creature of his size.
From the growl birthed a slow chuckle, and that chuckle developed into rolling laughter. Such was a taste of the mania from an under-stimulated BEAST who was now finally presented with a challenge he would be foolish to refuse.
“You set up this beautiful little game just for me? Oh my dear, my heart is yours~!”
Synova sprang upwards and began to gallop up the vertical walls of this false city. He had no plan, no aim for where he was going. All caution tossed to the wayside, the fox flung himself deeper into the mindscape with reckless abandon in search of that voice in the wind.
Synova was bemused when he realized he was unable to move. He was no stranger to shields and flimsy protective measures set to trap mental parasites like flies to a sticky sheet. It was nothing Synova had never experienced before. That v o i c e caught him off guard, however. It was now obvious that this woman’s mind was already occupied by more than just her thoughts.
Synova did not try to struggle or resist whatever bounds entrapped him within this void. The sentient shadow felt a tentative curiosity, and now that he had little regard for those who were hot on his tail, the fox had time to play.
“Ah, my apologies. Was this seat taken~?” His voice was suave and feathery, and despite the lack of physical form in this thought scape, a grin was stitched into every word.
Once Agnes herself was settled atop the bike, they were off. The generally irritable driver seemed at peace in his backseat position, where he didn’t have to care about the start and stop of the traffic around them. Once on his own agenda? It was another thing entirely.
His fingers curled in on themselves subconsciously, but he didn’t remove his hand from under hers. The racket and hustle of the city was something that had taken centuries to acclimate to. A pulse, however? It could more easily cut straight through the walls he had put up, for better or for worse. He spent equal parts ignoring that factor, as he did enjoying every other aspect of the demoness. Eventually, he leaned into her closer for the duration of the ride, letting the city’s distraction take over through the familiar streets.
The outside of Sundown greeted them, and once they came to a stop, Dominic let her dismount before stepping off. “Alright,” He confirmed, turning a glance over his shoulder to her before heading toward the door. He passed through into Sundown where the inside was quiet compared to the streets, given the hour. The vampire strode over toward the counter and took a seat further down toward the back. By the time the door creaked, he looked up to see Agnes walk in after getting the bike settled. He leaned a shoulder further into the bar’s edge to turn towards her. “I trust that you can find me something simple and sweet,” He replied.
He did not have time for this.
Carelessness is an inevitable side effect of arrogance. It was that carelessness which gave Synova’s presence away to a handful of greenhorn hunters and cost him the precious sight of the monster he himself had been tracking.
How easy it would have been to smite the hunters before they could take another step. How easy it would have been to allow that monster to devour them all in an instant.
However, rational thought revealed the dire consequences that would arise; Synova could not afford to draw more magical hunters in the area in search of missing fellows, nor could he afford to fully leave the area lest the THING he pursued should evade him once more.
And so Synova fled, slithering like a shapeless entity through the shadows that connected the concrete structures of this suffocating city. He revealed just enough of his presence to keep the young hounds at his heels and dutifully steered them away from his own target. This chase cost him precious time and a rare opportunity, and for that, Synova felt m a l i c e.
He figured the easiest way to avoid the hunters was simply to hide. It was as if the fates shared their agreement, for his attention instantly turned to the intoxicated man that had been thrown out of the bar. WIthout missing a stride or sacrificing the speed of his pace, the shadow pivoted and slithered straight towards the cafe and slid effortlessly beneath the door. His sights were set on the woman at the bar.
It all happened within a split second. The fast-moving shadow upon the floor shot upwards and collided into the onyx-haired woman. Rather than knocking into her entirely with the force of a blunt object, the shadow simply… dissolved into her the second it came into contact.
He was a drop of ink darkening the water, an infection that surged through her system and took its hold.
Her body was his in an instant, and without a move of hesitation, the P A R A S I T E descended into her mind.
It does not utter a word of complaint nor tries to resist; the ‘whatever’ it was is ushered swiftly outside by Ages into the deadness of night once the message has been delivered. There, it stands motionless, its odd and disagreeable form illuminated by overhead light, frozen like a picture in time as the door closes.
Now, as the letter in Agnes’s hand is folded open, the words, as she sifts through them, perhaps mean very little to her, as in invoking no fear nor cause for alarm; her thinking, maybe there is little need to dig further here and simply discard this trash, for its contents clearly indicates a deranged mind as to deluge this piece of paper with so much quirk. Or perhaps they upset her and conjured some worry from the ether of her subconscious? The latter is unlikely, given her intrepid nature, but one never knows when faced with something that perhaps she hasn’t seen before. After all, the unknowing is that which haunts us.
No matter her opinions, as they perhaps will be made clear shortly, below are depicted the innards of the message meant for her:
‘Greetings, mistress Hale, dear cocoon of Hells' sweetest sycophant. I hope this letter finds you well.
I apologise for not being there in person to deliver these words; forlorn, you'll cast them aside because of it.
Because I’m very much longing for you to see me. This night.
The abstract body that has given you this paper in hand will help guide you to me.
If it was rejected, then be it that another will appear upon the coming of the witching hour.
If this is also refused, you've forfeited the chance of a fruitful friendship between us, and henceforth, your opinion shall not be sought.
I urge you to seek reason, claim it, and carry it with you to me.’
Go now to my emissary, the body I have sent to your side; tell him, ‘I wish to speak’.
Upon this, he shall take you to me.
You must come alone.
I shall be waiting.’
Knock knock.
If Agnes would divert her eyes, the ‘it' stood by the glass window. Knock knock.
“Oh the contrary,” Dominic was quick to quip back at her, a smile never ceasing its tug on the corner of his mouth. He watched the moment play out as the psychic made his appearance, all the way down to the short jump of his heart to the incoming pen that was ceased in the air. It was nothing less than a useful talent, one of many the vampire had every intention of exploiting when the coast was clear and the light was green with the blood mage’s final decision. A vampire, a mage, a chemist, a demon, and a prophet walked into a bar…
Odds are, it would have to be Sundown.
Once he had slipped into the back room and taken a seat, Dominic did as he was prompted and slid his legs over her, keeping the majority of his weight still on the armrest. The demoness’ comment caused a brow to arch high. “Hm,” A look was given that spoke louder than whatever words they were meant to say. Still, the grin never left his features. He couldn’t have been more relaxed compared to the past nights and events looming in his thoughts. The vampire was docile, even. None of it mattered in the den he had made for himself nor his company. He relented to the spread of love and affection, giving a quiet hum here and there—if not to the sensation, then the attention that was a soft spot.
“Do I look worried?” Dominic hummed into the crook of her neck, right behind her ear. Each kiss had found its match, in one place or another. Several more were placed along the way until he heard the familiar creak of the floorboard he knew to be in front of the counter. One more obnoxious kiss was planted on her cheek before the vampire swung himself up from the chair effortlessly, brushed his palm over his hair, and went to check out the one and only regular that had stepped into the shop that early afternoon.
. . .
The afternoon continued on in a similar cycle until Dahlia and their interviewee came up from the basement to meet the two in the record shop lobby. After giving Nemo a farewell, Dominic’s eyes landed on a red folder tucked under the mage’s arm. I was bound to be full of tax paperwork and an unforgiving, contractual sample of blood that signaled the vampire had won the fight over employment this time. A private smile was tucked out of sight when he made eye contact with her.
“Talk in the morning?” He requested.
“Count on it,” Dahlia answered.
. . .
Dominic grabbed a jacket off the hooks in the back room as they made their way back out into the street. The night was creeping in comfortably while Agnes took the lead in walking. Once they reached their parking spot, the vampire gave the bike a once-over. “Our chariot awaits,” He teased in a subtly sing-song tone. “Give it ten or twenty more years, I might call it a classic.”
Agnes was given a look when the helmet was handed out, but no words were exchanged as he put it on. He took a seat and waited for her, taking a mental picture of the moment before the engine roared to life. One arm went around her waist while the other hand kept a loose grip on the fender beneath his seat. Soon enough, they were off.
“My dear, we have toxic elixirs, sourly contained spirits, and objects that haven’t been touched in fifty years because the curses remain just as potent as the day they were cast. It’s more than I would trust anyone within their first month, let alone day. I thought you of all people would know this isn’t just a record shop,” Dominic teased lightly, casting a smirk back over his shoulder. The curtain opened. Agnes would hear a subtle huff from the vampire’s chest as he acknowledged the comment.
A sweet hum and a nod of Dahlia’s head served as a thank you in response to the demoness. “Well, if you ever find out how he works without distraction, you let me know.” The blood mage’s painted lips curved into a grin. She wouldn’t need to look in order to feel the eye roll from the vampire.
“It might be time for me to go out and have a smoke,” He retorted to both, looking up from the floor with an arch of a brow. It was a troublesome combination to be stuck in between, should they choose to get along.
The front door opened. All heads were likely to turn toward the silhouette who passed into the shop. In came the young prophet, full of potential and significantly less demonic presence than their last new hire. Dominic’s arms crossed and he gave Nemo a small nod of greeting. Prove me right, will you? He thought.
Dahlia in the meanwhile was staring daggers into the man while she studied him from top to bottom as he approached the front counter. There was one shot, one chance to prove it wasn’t the vampire’s favoritism from when the MET Gala dragged them all into the basement that night. The pen flying through the air cut off said concentration when it streaked by, and the mage’s eyes darted to follow until it paused in the air. “You’re fine,” She answered, given a moment or so. “Come on, then. Follow me.”
Agnes was followed soon thereafter as Dahlia lead Nemo down the stairs towards the basement’s depths. The wards took ahold tightly by the time they reached the door and passed through, however long it took the white-haired man to acclimate. By the time the door slammed shut and left him no pleasure in eavesdropping, Dominic passed through the curtain. “I feel a talk in my future,” He murmured under his breath absently.
With no signs of activity in the record shop, the vampire took a seat on the chair’s armrest right beside her. “You know… For all the things in this life that I’ve done, you can still make me feel young.” Dominic commented.
A tight-lipped grin spread across the vampire’s features. After studying her expression, he arched a brow. “My dear, no more than I hear the fly buzzing on the front window. I hear what matters… If you would like to make a ride out of it, that’s fine.” It was time after work he would have inevitably spent working, in one way or another. As for what she had to share? He wouldn’t let his thoughts dwell on it for the time being.
His arm left her side when Dominic leaned back from the counter and move to one of the open boxes behind it. The contents were new records in stock for the front of the shop. If nothing else, it was something to look busy and prove someone there was working. “I consider it a trial. He has the job, so long as Dahlia’s terms sound fair and he understands the risk involved. He won’t be working downstairs until I give the go-ahead.”
Before he could finish his sentence, his head was already turned toward the back of the shop. Like clockwork, the back door was unlocked and opened. The footsteps and jingling of keys were heard.
“A bit early for you, isn’it?” He questioned amusingly.
There was a shuffling and series of mutters heard in response on the other end. “Yeah, yeah… I moved the interview up. Besides, I need to ta-”
Dahlia split the curtains to walk through, black sunglasses sat on the brim of her nose. Her dark brown hues looked between Dominic and Agnes. Her dark hair was a mane that had been tamed with a ponytail. Rough night out? Rough morning in? Whatever it was, the blood mage was feeling it. “Hey girlie,” She greeted. The backpack slung over her shoulder was dropped behind the counter. “Is he putting you to work now, too?”
Emptiness given putrid flesh and form urges through thick urban jungle in queer posture. It walks driven ahead by nothing but servitude for its creator, nary a thought left for its own hollow shell. Not a person it was, with people to love and to be loved by, not anymore, and mayhaps had not been for a long time - not an individual with dreams, wishes and opinions, but an automaton of some sickly kind, a slipshod effigy of life in mocking imitation. And as it steps ahead from the darkness of the void, it takes no notice of the man that is suddenly thrown at its feet, not even a glance of a look down.
Nay, it walks ahead with a singular purpose, mimicking men and women as passing on the streets earlier, draped in thick dark clothing all across and sunglasses to hide a less-than-human visage. Soon, it steps inside, whereby its gangly and ill-form is more visible in the light of the inside than in the dark of the night, despite being hidden all across with plentiful cloth. Its walk was strange, its movements slow, rigid, as if the joints of this thing did not quite move as joints should. Nevertheless, it is not slow by any means; no, rather, quite the opposite. It is within the woman’s vicinity near instantly, whereupon a hand is stretched out when she turns to face it or has already done so? Either case, gloved fingers wrap not around her person or anything of the sort to grab her.
No, it is simply holding out a letter for her. The parchment is yellowed, crinkled and worn by time and abuse, and upon is written, in blood, five letters, spelling: A G N E S
Will she accept this letter?
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