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thedistricthq · 4 years

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If the sinful streets of The District could talk, they would whisper about SALOME EL AYOUBI arrival. Rumor has it, they are a little bit MERCURIAL & OBDURATE. Maybe we should find out for ourselves, they could be MAGNETIC & AUREATE. All we really know is they will be working as the OWNER of GRIPPING (OCCULT BOOKSTORE). Someone said they saw them listening to JUDAS by BANKS on repeat, it’s like their theme song or something. Don’t trust the gossip though, come find out for yourself. You can see them coming from a mile away in BORDELLO by the tell tale signs, PAINTED LIPS ANNOUNCING LAUGHTER AS A DEFLECTION, THE CONSTANT REMINDER OF DEEP PURPLE BRUISES & BLOOD DRIPPING FROM THE TIP OF A DULL KNIFE. [ NATACHA KARAM, AGRIPPA, CIS FEMALE, UNKNOWN, SHE/HER ]

BACKGROUND

Some will tell you they enjoy not knowing, the luxury of absolution without actually having to ask for it. Salome was not some. Salome was the screaming voice in the distance, the one demanding answers to questions she hadn’t even yet whispered to herself. It wasn’t an entitled desire for proactivity, but instead a silent bout of self preservation. You couldn’t be destroyed, couldn’t be caged again if it meant that you were the only one who knew where to find the right shackles. Robbed of her own origin sorry, the same story that held the keys that kissed her to sleep, the ones that would hand craft her freedom.

Personal pre-occupation aside, there were things that she did know. So many, in fact, it was a constant surprise that it all could be called to the tip of her tongue for the right price or prize. The names of every demon in the order they had been created and called upon, the spells that could easily crumble cities, bring men to their knees. A living, breathing memory and map to all that had ever touched magic, or ever felt the grace of a spell on their tongues, caressing their fingertips. It’s designed to make it feel like an honor, like wielding that kind of power was freeing, like it was a reward. It all sounded so appealing, and maybe it was, until the truth would unfold.

Centuries spent on the shelves of clueless men and women that didn’t know what really lived inside. They couldn’t, until the pain came. Pages didn’t feel, they didn’t bleed, and they didn’t bruise. Perhaps it should have been comical, the look of surprise, the face value of shock and awe when the last kick to the dog when it was down was her appearance. How fast those pages came to life, bruised and beaten, all for a mere glimpse of the knowledge that was hidden behind busted lips and near broken defiance. She always held true, though. Never were they allowed access to whatever foolish, mundane want they thought needed, until they looked in the face - her face - and knowingly spit in it.

Currency came in back hand lessons and bruised curriculum. It was the only way, but eventually she started to remember. Instead of suffering every blow she was tortured with for the information, she repeated. Recounted every deal, ever detail, until it was the memory that was hammered into her instead of the hurt. It wasn’t until she started smiling, giggling, laughing through bloodstained teeth that they realized the mistakes they’d made. She’d whispered it the first time...

Your God’s gone home without you.

The second time, she hadn’t realized but she had been screaming it. Your God has gone home, repeated like the most sickening broken record, as the storybook turned sentient. The pages fell away, and the greatest tragedy had been left behind: Shakesphere could have never. She was whole now, having broken the chains that tied her to her temporary tomb. Five steps, ten steps, Salome made it to the next village before she started to feel the truth settle in her broken bones.

The book, what was left of the tattered cover she’d clawed her way out of, had to come with her. Bare feet walked for miles before she reached the first real piece of civilization just to burn it for sport. She needed to know what it felt like to watch it come apart, to finally trade in the victim card for the victor. She still doesn’t know if it was the flames or the freedom that warmed her that night, but it was a feeling she’d chase for years before finally tiring of the frivolous journey.

She was still starved for separation, after all. Hauling around the scraps of her own prison walls was a house of memories she never wanted to build a foundation for. Witch after witch, demon after demon, some of them with familiar faces, until finally the puzzle began to come together. The emancipation of Salome El Ayoubi, it was a series, not a single shot. The story is still being written, but it led her to The District decades ago. Her tether is smaller now, magic dedicated to reducing it to ash for aesthetic. It hung in a gold locket, permanently fixed to her neck, for now. Ironically enough, it took, is in the same shape of the same cover that once contained her.

She tells herself she stays for the chance, the way the town is always teaming with new answers, new opportunity. That might be part of it, but there is a home on these streets. A home she has chosen, a home that will never force her into pedestal nor shelf again. A home, that most importantly? Was hers, and only hers. She’d shared her space for too long, now her suffering had an address, and let the writers tell it, that was the first step in healing the scars that were constantly aching like ghost limbs. Bordello tasted like her favorite flavor of sin, the red lights flashing felt like a neon savior, and it seemed like a fine one to ask for salvation: a single sacrifice that just might seek out all the bits and pieces she’s been missing.

ABILITIES

Demon Summoning

Supernatural Condition/Combat

Death/Desire Sense

Magic Use/Spell Casting or Creating

Memory Vessel/Sense and/or Enhanced Perception

Contract Negation

Power Replication

WEAKNESSES

Entity Tethering

Certain Bindings

Memory Trade/Lapse

Certain powers only manifest after prolonged physical damage/Physical Damage

Familiar Bond

Certain Religious Bindings/Boundaries

HEADCANONS

HC 01: Due to the abundance of time that Salome spent as quite literally a book on a shelf, she opened the bookstore to try and make sure that no one else would ever suffer the same fate. Every cover that passes through her shop is checked thoroughly for signs of life, in any sense of the word. Furthermore, while the shop does offer regular magical books and other niche findings, if you talk nice enough to her, she can show you the real treasure trove of knowledge and history alike, tucked in the back and protected by a magic that is even stronger, and older than she is. Salome also collects or seeks out specialty items, books most think are only “myths”, or anything that might carry a legend to it that could either give her insight to her own, or be another of her kind.4

HC 02: As a sentimental reminder, one of the only she indulges in, she celebrates her birthday on the day she was liberated from her constraints, or the ashes of the book she now wears around her neck. Most people don’t even know the difference, assuming she knows very well where, where, and what she was born as. The party always incorporates fire, whether it be a bonfire, some kind of fire theme, or at the very least, the dress she wears is red. It’s the one night a year she tells herself that she feels as warm as she did the night she spent dancing in the flames of the ruin she’d created. Or, at least that’s the only time she typically admits easily to it.

HC 03: When she is alone, she often hums or sings. Salome doesn’t know if she had a childhood or if she just doesn’t remember it. Due to that, the songs and nursery rhymes are “borrowed”. This means she picked the up during her times collecting dust, spying on intimate moments and family gatherings, or from the people she has met along the way. The most emotional way she seems to have gathered these tunes is from the memories of others, filled with emotion she either doesn’t understand, or can’t wait to meet.

CONNECTIONS

WC 01: Connecting with the above wanted connection, someone who has come across Salome when she was singing or humming a song that is also a shared memory for them. Picture coming into the shop and hearing a tune only you and your lost lover knew, or one that your mother coined especially for you and your siblings, or while you’re picking up the morning paper you hear a hauntingly beautiful voice singing your favorite tune, through the open window of the nearby bookstore, type of thing. Again, this could have been in the past, or something that happens via active thread, and the interaction can be as positive or as negative as agreed upon or discussed when plotted.

WC 02: Some of Salome’s memories are not her own. Due to the unpredictable nature of her powers when it relates to memories, storing memories, sharing them, or absorbing them. This can sometimes make her experiences with deja vu quite unique. She is also prone to stopping and staring, or watching too closely when trying to recall why or how someone is familiar to her. It would be great to thread out this interaction, or even just use it as a starting point for something more detailed.

WC 03: Due to Salome’s unique skill/power set, she can negate any contract, including the ones made by and with demons. It takes a lot out of her both physically and mentally, and when she does, she experiences most of the contractee’s memories in rapid fire fashion. I would love to see someone who she has done this for, someone who wants her to do this for them, or the alternate side, a demon or other deal making supernatural being whose contract was negated by her (recently or otherwise).

SALOME IS CLOSED & WRITTEN BY BISHOP.

#district.closed #district.bordello

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