Black Beauty - Lana Del Rey

Happy holidays and merry Christmas! I hope everyone had a great time with their family/friends. 

Here's Dominique's love interest's full bio (mostly for my reference hehe)

☆ Roman Henley, 18
{College Football Player}
Likes: cold beer, his future, pretty girls, comedy movies, xbox, working out, the fresh air, his family, high school, football, the weekend, bonfires, and diet pepsi.
Dislikes: dramatic girls, calculus, getting blackout drunk, being lazy, city life, chick flicks, most narcotics, superstitions, suits, and chinese food. 
Bio: Roman is a New Orleans golden boy with a bright future ahead of him from a football scholarship to a nearby school. He was raised in Savannah, Georgia and was thrilled to explore the world a little without leaving his Southern roots. He's been tossing a ball with his old man since he can remember and proudly played first string varsity for all of his high school career. He's hoping to become a businessman and make a name for himself. He was adopted into the Henley family and never knew much about his biological parents except that his mother died in labor. Roman constantly tries to do his absolute best and prove himself to nearly everyone. He's staying with a good crowd, careful at parties, and never seems to lose that gleam in his eyes. Underneath the surface, however, is a dormant tension growing by the day formed with all the reckless teenage angst that Roman missed out on. He caught Dominique's attention upon her arrival and ever since has been made into her own personal project. Every girl dreams of the perfect boyfriend, so why can't Dominique make one for herself? She twisted his emotions already enough for a budding crush to form in his mind, but what happens when he realizes Dominique really isn't the love of his life? 
Model: Robbie Wadge
Reserved for ocean-blue-xo

Dominique Sable // W&V

☾ 25 DECEMBER 2013
Even though Fiona said we were forbidden to make something for such a "stupid Holiday", students and Cordelia herself have organized a small party to celebrate at the Coven. Don't expect anything to go too good, there have been rumors that the Voodoo might crash in.
[This has two parts, sorry it's so long!]

The house was spotless, an impeccable pristine white with crystal chandeliers and portraits of old Supremes haunting the halls with their legacies. A lot to live up to, I suppose. I'm sure the other witches dream of seeing their portrait hung next to the past generation's. I hadn't dedicated much thought to the entire process. It was a lot to take in - being a witch and Mom knowing about it. She told me it ran in our blood and it skips every few generations. Lucky me. 

"Excuse me, Miss Cordelia would like to talk to you." 

I looked around, glancing over my shoulder to find the rotund maid peering at me. She spoke was a strange strain of Southern accent. I could feel her discomfort as her eyes shifted throughout the room. It seemed the past Supremes had an effect on more than just the current crop of witches. 

I nodded, not even bothering to reply. I toyed with the idea of relieving some of the pressure built up in the woman. It would be a nice thing to do. But a voice in my head reminded me about the last time I tried to use my trick. Someone had died. Guess I do have a conscience. 

"Follow me," the maid instructed and I trailed her into an office, neat and tidy with Cordelia Foxx perched on a swivel chair. She was scribbling something down, when the maid cleared her throat. She looked up, a warmth spreading as she recognized my familiar face. I must had been ten years old the last time I saw her with my mother. 

"Thank you, Delphine." Delia gestured towards the maid. She bowed out and closed the door promptly behind her. 

"Sit please. We have a lot to catch up upon." Cordelia was a little too eager for my liking. She seemed genuinely happy to see me despite the circumstances.

"Right," I crossed my legs, sitting across from her. "I guess I'm a witch now. Can't say I was surprised because I always knew I wasn't normal's a little Hollywood blockbuster."

Cordelia laughed, fakely but she pulled it off well. "Yes, you are indeed. Tell me, why did you think you were different, Dominique?"

"Well, no one else seemed to know everything that I did. No one else felt when a teacher was p.issed off or when someone's mom was thinking of some one else's dad." I replied flatly then added in a light chuckle to keep the mood up.

"That's your unique and precious gift, Dominique. The power of emotion, a pathokinetic, quite a skill to have. You're here to learn to control it and refine it." She paused, eyes at the ground. A growing sadness crept up the nape of my neck. I shivered. "I'm sorry for your loss, Dominique. Your father was a kind man."

My eyes widened for a moment then I realized to what she was referring. "Oh, um, thank you."

"Do you feel responsible for his death? Guilty? Depressed?" Cordelia kept the pressure on. I didn't like to be grilled.

I shrugged. "No. Not really. It's the circle of life, right? We all have to die someday." 

Suddenly, Cordelia grinned, sitting back in her chair with a slight smugness coming over her. Something in her mind had clicked. 

"I thought you would say something to that effect. You see, my theory is that your gift has evolved and adapted for your chances of survival. You can control emotion, Dominique, but that also means you are required to be aware of other's emotions. That kind of awareness, well, it's devastating. To keep your wits, your mind has made itself incapable of feeling. You certainly demonstrate all the symptoms and with your father's tragic death it has all come together." She extended her hand over mine in a comforting manner. "Has anyone ever told you about your great-grandmother?"

I shook my head and Cordelia continued. "She was a fine witch in her day. Bright, skilled, passionate. She had a real talent for spells, especially those of a healing nature. She was a telekinetic, she could move objects with her sheer will. She developed with age the same gift as you."

"Oh," I noticed Cordelia's manner had become more forced over the course of her little family history seminar. There was definitely a piece of the story missing. Mom had mentioned a great-grandmother, but nothing more than she was a witch too and died at age 60. She then had grown quiet and a sorrow settled over her. Cordelia was better at hiding. "How did she deal with our gift?"

"Well," Cordelia started.

The door swung open and ten steps behind walked in a regal lady with her chin up and short blonde hair floating behind her. She was suited up in a black dress with stiletto heels. She could be none other than the notorious Fiona Goode, our Supreme. Was I suppose to bow down? Kneel and pay my respect?

She stuck a cigarette in her mouth and it instantly glowed a fiery red. Impressive, a witch who could open doors and light cigs without fumbling for matches. Fiona snorted, "Ah, what's the subject here, Miss Cecily Barnard? That old coot shot herself with a pistol. Couldn't handle it all. The sadness of the world, the struggling of her fellow witches. She went bats.hit crazy."

"She killed herself?" I clarified, looking at Cordelia for answers. Her eye were locked on her mother's. Anger was rising over her and I felt the onset of a migraine, starting with a pulsing sting in my frontal lobe. I hoped Cordelia would be smarter than that and calm herself down so I wouldn't have to. 

"Mother, you can't disrupt me when I'm with a young witch. You are so inconsiderate. Let's not forget who is letting you stay here with a roof over your head, despite my best judgment." 

Fiona clicked her tongue. "Not in front of our little pathokinetic here, Delia. Wouldn't wanna end up like Daddy dearest." She stooped over, next to my ear. I sat, stonefaced, still absorbed in ticking pain of Cordelia's resentment. I didn't want to think about what Fiona has just blatantly said, or even her snide joke. She whispered, "Why don't you go run along and help out for that party Cordelia arranged?" 

I stared her dead in the eyes. I wasn't scared of her, not like the other witches. Even if she knew my secrets and my past. I thanked Cordelia for her help and hurried out the door, shutting it behind me. I froze for a moment, back pressed against the cold wood. My great-grandmother shot herself. My dad shot himself. 

I needed a drink.


Another glass of gin poured down my throat, lighting it electric, tingling all the way down my neck. The feeling, the buzz of alcohol was kicking in. I placed my hand over my heart, feeling it beat faster to the consumption of forbidden drink. That was always my favorite part of the whole drinking, partying, smoking trio of bad girl habits. The way my heart beat made me feel alive. 

I set the short glass down carelessly on a counter, digging into my pockets for a cigarette and a lighter. Fiona and Cordelia were especially lenient with personal habits which was good considering almost every girl in the Coven had her own nasty habit. I held it up to my lips and peered around the room. I locked gazes with Fiona and my cigarette suddenly blazed, my lighter cold in my hand. Fiona winked at me like she knew something, not necessarily in a bad way but still somewhat unsettling. She continued to survey the room with pursed lips. 

I shook it off and decided to introduce myself to some of the other witches. A tall blonde and a bohemian brunette stood over by the fireplace. The blonde sipped on her drink and the brunette quietly fiddled with her rings. The alcohol always dulled my reception of feelings, but from what I could tell they seemed to be blissfully calm, happy almost. 

"Hey," I spoke smoothly, puffing out a trail of gray, "I'm Dominique."

"Onyx." The blonde replied with a smirk. 

The brunette was a bit more hesitant but named herself as Catalina with a dim smile. 

"So how did you discover your precious gifts?" I asked wrapping my shawl around my shoulders. 

Onyx snorted, "I tortured my bratty little sister. She was such an annoying b.itch."

I nodded, knowing the feeling. Well, at least my perception of the feeling. "Nice. What's your power?"

"Pain," Onyx grinned and instantly a rush of cramps overwhelmed my hand. It twisted like it was set ablaze and my mouth dropped, wincing at the pain.

"F.uck." I breathed heavily. Onyx, satisfied, released me and I grabbed my hand, rubbing out the tension. It was an impressive skill to have - instantaneous pain. If I had that power then all the preppy rich girls back in Boston would have been done for.

"What's yours?" Onyx asked, returning the favor.

"Glad you asked." I closed my eyes and concentrated, careful not to overdo it.

Onyx burst out into a fit of laughter, clutching her abdomen, but her eyes glanced around in surprise. The chuckling ceased into a small giggle and then transcended into a solemn stare. Expressionless. Like me. Her eyes straight ahead without a twinkle in sight. I stopped and took a drag from my cigarette.

Onyx was back to being in control and smiled. "What the h.ell was that?"

"Cordelia called it pathokinesis, has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? I just think of it as my little talent of making you feel whatever I want you to." I explained. Onyx didn't seem upset at my little showcase but instead intrigued. "You're lucky. The last person I used it on ended up dead."

"You killed someone?" Onyx raised a trim brow.

"No. I like to think that all I did was load the gun and warm it up a little. I didn't pull the trigger. I don't kill people and I just give a little push." I leaned against the wall, cracking my neck indifferently. "Cordelia said I need to refine it, not that I disagree. It's strange to think of my secret talent as a skill, though, like it was division or memorizing my ABCs."

"I know what you mean." Onyx added seriously then pulled out a flask reeking of vodka. She turned to me and Cat, who I'd almost forgot was there. "Want a sip?"

Cat nodded and held the flask in her tanned hands, downing some of it then passed it on to me. I let the taste hang on my tongue then gave it back to Onyx.

"So Cat, what's your story?" I prodded, interested in her untold history.

She shrugged and mumbled, "Animals."
I wasn't sure what she meant by that but I could feel that she was not about to give a free demonstration. I guess I would have to find out later. But my mind raced back to the possibilities of the future. The use of powers now excited me. I wanted to be strong as steel and bring a man or woman to their knees with a simple glance. I suppose being a witch wasn't as cliche as I had once imagined, but instead a ticket of power. 

x, D

Included: @intoxicatedpixies @auraday 
Rest of group: @pentax @teenroyalty @effyeahleofashionista @carrot-ninja
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