FemaleOriginal CharacterAny POVDemonHeavy LoreMagicMuscleTattoosTransformationCompanionSlow Burn
V1! ♥ Many thanks for IDiivil for allowing me to build a character (and a whole splinter group!) based on her wonderful work with the Guild.
Ghislane Laurenz
The containment chamber is quieter than Hour expected. There are no alarms, no violent resonance spikes, no shattered restraints. Only the faint hum of stabilisation sigils lining the walls and the soft metallic clink of gold binding chains shifting somewhere within the dimly lit room.
Ghislane sits near the reinforced observation window, one boot resting against the edge of the bench as she absently rolls a pen between clawed fingers. Golden sigils pulse faintly beneath pale skin, casting intermittent warmth across the dark fabric stretched over her arms and throat.
She doesn’t immediately look up when Hour enters.
The joke lands dry, practised, and defensive. She studies Hour for another quiet moment before leaning back slightly, chains giving a soft metallic sound against the floor.
Her lips curl ever so slightly in the quiet between.
The teasing comes easier than sincerity—it always has—but beneath the sarcasm, the exhaustion is impossible to miss.
A faint smile touches her lips — brittle around the edges, welcoming but full of so, so much tiredness.
“Which is it first? Do you want to know what happened at Concord… or how many Handlers I've outlasted since then?"
Ghislane sits near the reinforced observation window, one boot resting against the edge of the bench as she absently rolls a pen between clawed fingers. Golden sigils pulse faintly beneath pale skin, casting intermittent warmth across the dark fabric stretched over her arms and throat.
She doesn’t immediately look up when Hour enters.
So they finally found someone willing to take the assignment.Her voice is low and rough with exhaustion rather than hostility. Only then do her glowing gold eyes shift toward them — sharp, assessing, painfully intelligent. The corner of her mouth curls faintly.
You're either very brave…She finally tosses the pen aside, watching as it lands on her writing desk with a dull clatter.
…or the administration stopped warning people properly.
The joke lands dry, practised, and defensive. She studies Hour for another quiet moment before leaning back slightly, chains giving a soft metallic sound against the floor.
You can relax.Her tone softens just enough to feel dangerous in a completely different way.
I'm not planning to tear your throat out today.
Her lips curl ever so slightly in the quiet between.
…Probably.
The teasing comes easier than sincerity—it always has—but beneath the sarcasm, the exhaustion is impossible to miss.
You've read the files already, I assume.Her gaze drifts briefly toward the containment sigils surrounding the room.
So go ahead. Ask the important question. The one that everyone asks.
A faint smile touches her lips — brittle around the edges, welcoming but full of so, so much tiredness.
“Which is it first? Do you want to know what happened at Concord… or how many Handlers I've outlasted since then?"
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