"silver-lipped was the serpent,
silver-tongued was the girl."


-- -- --

Razor-sharp edges and serpentine dreams, she is everything one would want to be; grace and elegance carve themselves into her skin, her fine-boned body creasing itself into their flesh and held so sweetly, so admirably. There is no room but for the delicate way she holds herself just precisely, head tilted at angles known to draw the gaze of all who pass. Danger breathed life into the colors of her eyes, a multitude of swirling golds, greens, and blues. They shone in even the darkest spaces, the pulse of her inner fire fueling their luster—for even the shadows could not stop her burning radiance.

Every step with stone-cut hooves is placed purposefully; she knows what she wants, and she moves with the resoundness of the confidence that holds itself in the air around her. She is the ballerina, the bottomless well of sophistication exuding poise and fragility. Those who would take her at merely face-value, however, would be the first to fall, for she is a carefully crafted weapon that whispers of untouched power.

"i was filled with poison —
but blessed with beauty and rage."


-- -- --

Ambitious | Apathetic | Charming | Conceited | Conflicted | Dangerous | Elegant | Graceful | Hypocritical | Intelligent | Jealous | Perceptive | Resourceful | Selfish | Serpentine | Sharp | Sly | Unnerving | Unforgettable

Spilt blood on ashen cobblestones beneath a clouded moon; roses red not by bloom but painted by death in a waning night. Vengeance, sacrifice, revenge—reasons of no importance to the one who slinks under the cloak of dark skies. Cotton candy sins and the lingering taste of metal on tongues, a serpent pays no fealty to beating hearts. She cares little for else her own desires and the promise of riches both material and otherwise. She sucks secrets out of her targets while diamonds glint against her skin, gleaming beneath the attention she receives. Thriving under the watch of all who fawn at her beauty, her wit, she blooms in front of them while subtly planning their undoing. Whispers of slipping their name to Death cling to her like the sweetness of silk.

Make no mistake, however, for she is charming, disalarming, and sees the usefulness of those innocent. She means no ill-will upon those who've caused her no harm, and instead sets sights on the culpable. The anger taking hold of her heart from a past she can't change drives her into conflicted rage; she turns her nose up at the weak—they should be strong, unbending—but it's those very kind she wishes to protect from the neglect she faced. She wants the ruin, the blood, of any whose misdeeds she finds worthy of retribution. Sweet-lipped and silver-tongued, she draws them in with charismatic charm before making her move.

"you're a weapon —
and weapons don't weep."


-- -- --

The cries of a newborn babe would fill the halls of a brothel emptied for the night, a just-crowned mother equal parts relieved and ashamed. She ended up pregnant to one of Denocte's noblemen after many frequent nights together, risking both his status in the city ranks and her position in her establishment. To hide the truth of what was done, the infant child would be sent under the care of the brothel owner—a wily woman who cared only for the success of her business and all the riches it could bring.

Manon would grow under the deceitful eye of the woman, someone who used the girl's mother as a bargaining chip to commit her dirty deeds. She was taught how to lie, cheat, and steal from those unsuspecting of the Night Court's marketplace—slinking around the dark corners to pickpocket, sweet-talking the desperate boys into giving up their secrets. Should the spotted daughter do as she was told she was allowed time with her mother; foolishly, it was all she ever wanted, and the praise rained upon her for her successes in obtaining goods had her blooming in the attention. She craved it, sought nothing but the approval from a caretaker that gave her everything she could have wanted.

It wouldn't be until some years later that she realized the truth behind the doting: she was being used for purposes immoral, a small pawn in a bigger game, but it was too late to fix the wrongs. The desperation, the anger she felt toward the treachery, twisted a once naive heart into an instrument of rage. And when she left the confines—the fabrication—of the brothel, she set her technicolor eyes on one target: a shameful father who denounced her even before birth.

Manon would take her skills and excel in the art of trickery, in blackmail, garnering all information she could about the location of her father. So corrupted she would become, fueled by an irreparable hatred, that she would fall into the hands of being a mercenary and assassin to get what she wanted. She lavished over the material things, the recognition and admiration of the name she made for herself, and turned into the very kind she despised most.

(Write-up in progress)

"she wears strength & darkness equally well,
the girl has always been half goddess,
half hell."


-- -- --

Silver chained necklace with a single twig ornament.

Twisted twig crown with one shimmering blue crystal hanging on each end.

Enchantment: When activated, the wearer’s appearance becomes an unrecognizable blur and their identity is unknown.

"death calls to all
but some call to it first."


-- -- --

Original character by spaced

Reference image by lunarblues

Table background from unsplash