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handler: leah
age: 23/118
occupation: assassin
affiliation: north coven
application: n/a
plotter link: n/a
gif link: http://i.imgur.com/d6Xwo45.gif
lyrics: Nothing to prove and I'm bulletproof and i
Know what I'm doing.
The way we're moving's like introducing
Us to a new thing
I wanna savor, save it for later
The taste of flavor, 'cause I'm a taker
'Cause I'm a giver, it's only nature
I live for danger.
Joined: 12-June 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Jun 30 2017, 03:19 PM
Local Time: Oct 22 2017, 09:38 AM
14 posts (0.1 per day)
( 0.05% of total forum posts )
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bella amador


My Content
Jun 19 2017, 03:15 PM
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your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine

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Bella was, as always, ridiculously thrilled at the prospect of yet another mission with Nicholas. The promise of bloodshed always drew her into these things, providing the best possible high, but when she had her husband by her side on missions like these (which happened more often than not), the experience was ten times more exciting. There was always this unpredictability, this undercurrent of danger when she was with him. It wasn’t just the dangers that came with the job, or the dangers they were meant to inflict, but something far more visceral, almost animalistic. It was as if Nicholas made the violence more palatable; romantic, even. Even after years and years of doing this together, it never got old. Things were never dull when she was with Nicholas – whether it was in bed, or when they were collectively meant to take down a target - and Bella adored him all the more for it. <p>Their current target was a generic rich corrupt businessman, the kind of prey Bella particularly enjoyed playing with. These were the kind of men who always underestimated Bella, who always assumed that she was some sort of wilting maiden in need of their rescue. The look on their faces when Bella inevitably turned the tables on them and unleashed the ruthless assassin within her was always a little too entertaining to witness. They were at a posh bar – the kind rich corporate hacks frequent – and the man in question sat alone in his booth, looking halfway drunk already. He was just the right amount of vulnerable for them to make their first move, and Bella couldn’t hold back her smirk at how easy this was turning out to be. “Let’s take the old-fashioned approach shall we,” she said, turning to Nicholas conspiratorially. Their cover was that of a newlywed socialite couple – something that was never difficult for them to pretend to be – and they were currently appearing to be heavily engrossed in each other to keep up the ruse. She leaned in further towards him, dropping her voice to a whisper, “He’s sitting alone so I’ll go distract him. I’ll pretend I had a fight with you and that I’m in need of his consoling.” She smirked again, making the innuendo in that sentence more evident. “Then I’ll try to get him out into the parking lot, and we can finish him off there.”<p>

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husband! | <a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ec/7d/e0/ec7de05127a3c4783d8a37c50bb610ea.jpg" style="color: #fff">OUTFIT</a> | 399 words

Jun 19 2017, 12:07 PM
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<li>femme fatale</li>
<li>shady assassin</li>
<li>will cut you</li>



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As innocent and sweet as Bella may appear on the outside, in reality she’s the exact opposite of that. A ruthless assassin who’s basically a glorified vampire contract killer, Bella takes no prisoners. It’s clear that she has a dark side - she’s cunning, conniving, and has very little morals in terms of who she chooses to feed and prey on, not hesitating - but that doesn’t mean she’s irredeemably evil. In fact, there is a softer side to her, but that only comes out around her husband Nicholas. To most others, she’s a deadly femme fatale, the kind of woman who will simultaneously sweet-talk you and kill you in your sleep. <p>
Born into a strictly patriarchal hunter family in turn of the century England, Bella had been conditioned from a very young age to act and behave a certain way. She was meant to be a ‘lady’; perfectly meek and docile and coquettish, confined to a very limited kind of existence where her only goal was marriage. For very obvious reasons, she hated every bit of this. She had always been very agile and physically strong and had wanted to hunt, just like her brothers. But of course, gender roles in the 1920s were a b*tch, and her hopes and desires were repeatedly shut down and dismissed by her family. Even then, she knew that there was a dark and dangerous undercurrent within her, but she only fully realized that when she met Nicholas, which lead to her eventual turning. Being a vampire gave her both a sense of independence as well as the raw, unadulterated power she had always craved. Needless to say, she got addicted to the things that came with it - heightened senses, newfound strength, and of course, the bloodlust. Even though she’s now been a vampire for decades, she’s still addicted to blood in a way that’s almost unhealthy, and is easily driven over the edge. That’s what makes her all the more volatile and dangerous, because her bloodlust makes her a little crazy and she doesn’t hesitate to go to any and every length to satisfy it. <p>
The reason she went so thoroughly off the rails and embraced a life of murder and bloodshed is not just the influence of her vampirism or her husband; it comes from an innate need to defy the kind of conditioning she’s been fed as a child. She was so tired of being all docile and easily conforming that it had begun to grate on her; and so when she finally found her independence and was able to openly defy her family, she embraced all that rage and resentment and turned it into something sinister and barbaric. <p>
Friends: I don’t think she’ll have many of these, being who she is. She really isn’t the kind to befriend or warm up to people even if she may appear to do so. Even when Bella’s being nice to you, she’s probably scheming internally. <p>
Enemies: Everyone except Nicholas tbh. <p>
Lovers: She’s married and ridiculously devoted to her husband, and have been for years and years. They may fight and rile each other up a lot at times, but that’s just because they’re them and are weirdly dysfunctional but are happy being that way. <p>


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<h1>bella amador</h1>
<h2>23/118. north coven. assassin. <br> f: nicholas amador <a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=11182">&raquo</a></a></h2>

Jun 17 2017, 08:34 PM
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arabella e. amador

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north coven

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natalia vodianova

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November 1921,<br>
London, England.<br>

<p>Dear Diary,</p>

London may be cold and damp, but it is maddeningly exciting all the same. I miss our quaint country home back in Surrey, but there is so much to explore in this city, so many new sights and smells that I long to encounter. But Mother says that I am never to venture out alone. It is unbecoming of young ladies to go jousting about without an adequate chaperone -- and even then, our visits must be confined to the dress shops and haberdasheries and the odd walk in Hyde Park. Gentlemen callers must be carefully screened, invitations to balls must be approved by both Mother and Father before attending. Every little thing, every step of the way, must be carefully measured and controlled. It is all part and parcel of being a debutante, newly inducted to the creme de la creme of London society. It is all part and parcel of being a lady.<p>
I am everything they want me to be. Prim, proper, intelligent, gentle, attractive. Skilled with the pianoforte, and a thorough connoisseur of the arts. I have everything any young girl my age would blatantly covet - wealth, beauty, a stream of handsome suitors. And yet, why is it that I feel so horribly constrained? Why do I continue to crave for more?<p>


March 1922,<br>
London, England. <br>

<p>Dear Diary,</p>

I have entered my twenty-third year and despite my best protests, Father still refuses to let me go on hunting expeditions with my brothers. “You’re a woman,” he tells me, “Remember your place.” They can go strapping away with their rifles and newly acquired silver bullets and go gun down a werewolf, but I must sit him and learn needlework. It is thoroughly infuriating. <p>

Father knows very well that I can be just as agile and just as good with weapons as he was in the peak of his youth. I have read all his journals, I know of all his exploits and adventures. Lord, how desperately do I want that kind of an adventure. I am tired of traipsing around in dresses that do not fit me, of dancing and flirting with men I could not care less about. I am tired of pretending to be someone I am not.<p>


June 1922,<br>
London, England. <br>

<p>Dear Diary,</p>

I meet him, and everything is a whirlwind. He makes me feel so alive, I am a livewire ready to snap. He is so kind and courteous and gentlemanly on the outside, but when he kisses me, the breath is burnt right out of my body. His touch is a hurricane that sweeps me away, and I know, from this very minute, that I am never going to be the same. <p>
I know that he will ask for my hand very soon and I know that I will say yes, but nothing is that all that easy. There are things about him that worry me, that scare me. He is gentle, but he is also frightening. I want him to make me whole, but I also want him to destroy me. <p>

Should I stop myself before I am in too deep?<p>

October 1922,<br>
London, England. <br>

<p>Dear Diary,</p>

He has destroyed me. <p>
I despise myself, I despise him. But the venom throbbing in my veins, the thirst for blood growling in my bones, the sharp cacophony of sights and smells that I have always wanted to explore, that are now magnified like never before -- have a different story to tell. All of it is like a drug I cannot resist. I finally have an adventure of my own, and it is terrifying as much as it is thoroughly satisfying. <p>

It is wrong. I can hear Father’s voice chiding me, telling me that I have given myself up to an irredeemable sin. I have fraternized with the enemy and have taken things too far. But how could I have let them kill Nicholas? Jumping in front of the bullet had been more than merely a protective instinct. I wasn’t just saving his life, I was saving myself. I was finally brave enough to do something selfish, to do something rebellious and reactionary. And Nicholas saved me in return, he made me what I am. As much as I hate him for it, he gave me this bloodlust. The rush it gives me is insane.<p>
I’m starting to discover my penchant for destruction. Years and years of being the soft, docile creature who listened to everybody but herself has finally given way to the dark, dangerous monster within. The monster that I always was inside has now finally manifested itself in the flesh; my fangs are only the accessories. <p>

May 2017,<br>
London, England.<br>

<p>The graveyard is largely deserted, much to Bella’s relief. She walks past headstones one by one, smirking at how many names she recognizes, at how many of them she personally had a hand in putting here. The air is warm and heavy, ominous almost. Her gun is secured tightly to the edge of her bustier, hidden from plain sight but still close enough for her to reach if any trouble were to arise. She circles a large granite tombstone, swerves to the left, and finds herself facing a line of smaller, less showy ones. The soil is overgrown with weeds from years of neglect. No one has visited these graves in decades -- no one has brought them flowers, or trinkets, or any sign of recognition. It is only Bella, and no one else. It is only Bella and her pure, unadulterated hatred.</p>
“I wish you could see me now,” she retorts like she does every single time. They would hate her if they did, would try to kill her even. As always, the thought amuses her. She feels a raw sense of power, of triumph -- she survived, she proved them all wrong, she showed them how fragile their sense of morality was. Father’s headstone looms larger than that of the others, and, according to the ritual she has perfected over time, Bella takes out a vial of blood from her pocket, drinks it, then spits it at the useless bulk of cement and stone. This time, the splatter hits right where it says ‘Rest in Peace’. Bella bares her fangs, unable to contain her mirth; the air echoes with her delirious laughter. She always did take far too much pleasure in vandalizing her family’s graves. <p>
Her phone beeps, letting her know that her time is up. There are other things waiting for her - things far too sinister and brutal for the sweet little Arabella of yore to even imagine. That Bella was young and naive and gullible, easily entranced by the world, easily fooled into being good. This Bella knows better. She’s seen too much, she’s done too much. She’s shed blood, has caused others to shed blood. She brings darkness, she brings death, she brings unmitigated destruction. But when she smiles, the world still falls at her feet. <p>

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<div class="alias-box"> leah - central time - 22 </div>

<a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=165"><div style="width: 450px;text-align: right; font-family: cambria; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; font-style: italic; color: #000; line-height: 100%; letter-spacing: 1px;"> ♥ SARA! </div></a>
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