Victoria

If there's any one place for one to find what their heart seeks, it’s probably New Orleans; more specifically, it’s probably located in the French Quarter. Those who follow the whims of the heart should be wary, though, as the conscious mind is not always prepared to rationalize what the heart desires.

Somewhere in a back alleyway, lined with an odd assortment of potted plants and mismatched lanterns, those seeking can often find an odd entrance to a rather odd shop; the window cloudy with age, lined with half visible knick knacks, and the door always appearing to be a different color despite the paint chipping and faded. There is but a single, always flickering, light just outside the entrance, neither welcoming nor unwelcoming; regardless of the time of day, there always appears to be a gathering of moths, filtering around the questionable light.

Should one venture inside, one would instantly feel the need to tread lightly; countless shelves lined with countless bottles of questionable substances, the wooden floors creaking with every step, mismatched dusty rugs scattered and overlapping. The smell unplaceable, probably due to an impressive spread of burning candles, but far more welcoming than the flickering light: perhaps the light was actually a burning flame, upon consideration. The sound of zydeco playing from presumably an old record, just loud enough to hear but low enough to hear the floors cry with every step.

"Welcome." A pleasant, upbeat voice catches your attention, as a woman appears from behind a curtained doorway; several moths escape the darkness hidden behind the curtain, god only knows what secrets were being concealed behind some cloth. "What is it you seek, traveler." She seems unthreatening, but there's an odd twinkle in her eyes: you can't remember, if you ever knew, why exactly you dared open the door.

It's almost as if she read your mind, or perhaps your heart; her tongue clicked, her hand waved towards an entrance to a back room unrestrained by curtains. "Come. We will read your heart, find the root of your desires, no?" It was stated as a question, though it was not. Your head nodded, seemingly of its own accord; the floors singing again as you followed her lead.

• Her father was the famed Moth Man that “terrorized” West Virginia in the 1960s; he wasn’t actually trying to warn them of anything, he was merely there to enjoy the “show” and happened to be sighted.

• Like all Nain Rouge, she’s asexual by nature; love is one of life’s greatest tragedies, and they’d much rather observe a disaster than get caught up in it. [The species marries and mates only to further their race, there’s nothing emotional involved between the couples.]

• Although it’s viewed as taboo, like all Nain Rouge she is capable of tampering with the strings of fate [not capable of breaking or mending them] to trigger, alter, or postpone various degrees of tragedies. They rarely meddle with large scale disasters as it’s too easy to get caught or disrupt the natural order.

• Her species is capable of “sensing” or viewing [by means of crystal balls, scrying bowls, etc) impending disasters to an extent, depending on the severity of the event [something minor could be but a few minutes at best, while large scale disasters could be felt for weeks before hand].

• Is capable of turning into a swarm of moths, a younger version of herself, a very old version of herself, and a small catowl gryph; usually in order to seem unsuspecting when watching a disaster play out.

➤ Bust & Overlay by Andrea.