𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖆 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍 〉〉VALENTINE

demonology

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𝕿𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘

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demonology

‧₊˚✧. 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖑 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 .✧˚₊‧

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𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Valentine Jean Volkov
𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Val, Tiny

𝐀𝐆𝐄: Nineteen
𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄: Berlin, Germany
𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇: June 13th
𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂: Gemini ☉ Cancer ☾ Scorpio ↑ {don't come at me; i am not using my stupid brain to figure out if this combo is astrologically possible}

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑: Simply put, she/they is appropriate
𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘: Sapphic in nature

𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 & 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘: A mix of German and Russian blood, though she is unfortunate enough to have an American father...

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋: Alana Champion
𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒:
#BA3838
#EDBBA3
#D4C49A
#EDA8A8

demonology

‧₊˚✧. 𝖁𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖌𝖊 .✧˚₊‧

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𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑: Long tendrils of honey wheat. Usually in some state of disheveled or unkempt, unless she is in practice or on stage.

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒: A brown the Grandmother deems is indicative 'the Volkov eyes'

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 5'10''

𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 110 lbs

𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃: Slim, tiny (hence the nickname), and athletic. The one compliment her mother has ever given her about her looks: The perfect dancer's body.

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍: Light, alabaster. Porcelain. Terribly, terribly pale.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: A simple tattoo behind her ear of a heart with three swords in it (akin to the Three of Swords)

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒: The most noticeable thing about them is her eyes, unnerving and unrelenting.

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄: here

demonology

‧₊˚✧. 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 .✧˚₊‧

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𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖: Valentine has the unfortunate curse of being both fitting of her namesake, and quite the opposite. She is passionate, charming, a bit ditzy at times, but they are equally capable of being cruel, cutthroat, perhaps a bit disarming and two-faced at times. Growing up under the influence of cattiness and institutionalized bitchiness, Val is unable to relinquish herself from these conflicting sides of the spectrum that makes up her personality. It is rare to find Valentine acting out of the kindness locked away in their chest, but one couldn't say that she acts heartlessly without reason. Loyalty with her comes from times, bloodshed, and an instinctual test of trust until finally she deems you as an asset. Yet, even as they run this gambit, resulting in many foes and lost loves, they cannot help but wish they could change. Perhaps the severity of her upbringing can be escaped after all, though only time can tell what will be made of such an ambitious queen.

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Peonies, strawberry cakes with pink frosting, the smell of lavender, lighting incense, frankly smoking a bowl, dancing in the woods (which you would be surprised to learn how often they drive upstate just to do this), Times Square at 4 am, back alleys and other areas where things appear to go unnoticed (except by her, of course), beautiful things, people who believe in love fated by the stars and the divine goddesses (which, she supposes, is likely under the tag 'beautiful things'), a big sleep, and giving people tarot readings. Oh, and of course, dancing. But isn't that obvious?
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Bitches, jerkoffs, numbskulls, people who otherwise wish her demise, idiotic "real adults" (in the words of her mother) who treat her as though she is some how less intelligent, heartbreak, tabloids, accusations (even if they are true), consequences for her actions, the smell of cigarettes and merlot, existential anxiety, the threat of her untimely demise at any moment, and lastly, the grandeur notion that all she exists for is for that fucking stage!!

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒: Besides talking with her psychiatrist Dr. Pomfrey, tarot reading, watercolor painting, that stuff that requires the uncomfortable, pointy shoes, bowling (not really, though it is a beautiful place to go and get a nightcap, in her words), sleeping, prank calling strangers and pretending to call into work, pissing off her mother, writing angry letters to her father while tripping on LSD (including the finest of pieces: 'Macaroni Necklace' and 'Random Scribbles,' something that fuck is surely missing in his barren fucking lifestyle!), staring at their ceiling and wondering what the point of it all is without love, and plotting how to keep her grasp on the one thing she has ever been sure of (which sometimes, if not always, includes the plotting of someone else's social demise. Whoops!)
𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒: Self-medicating, things of the witchy proclivities, winning over others, hurting others, dancing (of fucking course), and making an absolute fuckery of their life.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐊𝐒: Speaks very pointedly with a piping accent of undeterminable Euorpeaness and slight tinge of Northern Asia, picking at hangnails, pacing back-and-forth when thinking deeply, normally quiet unless they're high, and tends to stare off into space when feeling threatened
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒: Injury. Of multiple varieties.
𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃: Hiding out in their apartment in Brooklyn, or some random club or corner of the city, wearing her notoriously decadent white faux fur coat and some impossible pair of heels.

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒: The abuse she's suffered from her mom, the fact that her mother and father aren't actually separated against their will (or that her father owns a nightclub and she has only met him twice), doesn't know a lick of German, used to deal marijuana at her old dance Academy, and the fact that she spent 30 days in rehab (a surprising feat achieved by solely Catherine's PR magic)
𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒: She Tonya Harding-ed another dancing while on tour with the Bolshoi Ballet, she's schizophrenic and went to rehab, she does steroids, the Grandmother worked for the KGB and she has a secret Russian lover

demonology

‧₊˚✧. 𝕭𝖎𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖞 .✧˚₊‧

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𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

Valentine Volkov is a prima donna ballerina, renowned for their drug habits and declining mental health. She is certified Mommy Issues Incorporated, though she will also tell you in a drunken haze of the tragedy of her Miami father. A hater of Americana, though she happily indulges in one of its greatest fables: New York City. Armed with her satin slippers, Valentine intends to charm the hearts of all (and probably destroy a few) and hopelessly avoid the serpent tongue of her mother.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒:
⠀⠀ In order to understand Valentine "Tiny" Volkov, audiences have to travel through the eclipses of time into the past, where Catherine Volkov and Fynn Weber (currently known as Finn Weaver) met on the streets of Berlin, both in search of what the other could provide. They met on a whirlwind, wrapped up in the silk of their desire for one another. True love is what their families called it. How coincidental that the pair would reconnect after years of separation, the memories of their youth flooding back, in the very city their families came from! The Volkovs and Webers are from old money, though the Volkovs are older. Seniority led to Val getting the surname. However, before Valentine was even a potential fetus, the current matriarchs were planning the meeting of her parents, friends in babyhood who were from two powerful lines and inheritors of hefty trust funds. Fynn needed some direction, and Catherine needed something other than bloodsport to occupy her time. Thus, Catherine was encouraged to leave Moscow to go to university in Berlin, since the wall recently came down, and family there had missed getting to see her growing up. Fynn went for similar reasons, though less for academic purposes and more so for a pilgrimage that his father promised would result in proper stipend for any luxuries he wanted to indulge in the coming two years. A full twelve months in Berlin was worth it. Lucky for him (or perhaps unlucky, seeing how the story works out), the trip proved to be more than worth it, as it brought him Catherine and money for his follies

⠀⠀ As you're already imagining, this went up in flames well before Val reached six. Catherine was not a woman to be confined, to give the Grandmother the quiet housewife she felt was respectable. Cath wanted glory, and most of all, she wanted to show the family that the women of the family were capable of far more than working the tangled strings of the social circle. She could do that and become a millionaire by the time she was thirty. The ambition proved to be too taxing on Fynn, but truthfully, he simply didn't want to be a father. Most of all, he didn't want to be stuck in Europe with a wife who wanted to bring the world to her finger tips. Better to bring her to America, he had thought. At least there, she will be more than entertained. Though, it is doubtful he was even this crafty. They left Berlin a year into Valentine's life, the love that inspired her namesake dwindling fast. For a time, the opportunities and culture afforded to Catherine satiated her and make her hunger for the love the pair shared. She settled quickly into using her education to pursue movie producing, and not before long, her family's entertainment connects and surplus funds brought her that first million and first hit film she thirsted for. In her almost godly endeavors, she lost the taste for her husband, and he quietly pulled away. They are still married today, but Finn spends his time in Miami, tending his popular club, and Cath remains in Burbank.

⠀⠀ At six, Fynn was almost a figment of Val's imagination. Truthfully, they thought he was dead for at least a year after he disappeared in the middle of the night. She didn't dare ask her mother of her father, and as you'll see, this is indicative of quiet much more beyond the surface. When her husband vanished, Catherine took the abandonment with a grunt and a whiskey sour before signing up Valentine for dance lessons. What the Volkov family needed was another star, as the Grandmother had been before she passed on 2007. Greta Volkov, in her youth, was an infamous beauty and a pop singer that even reached American fame before the Cold War. Instead of giving up her career for a sniveling husband, Valentine would reach greatness and continue to seek greater heights. She would bring the Volkovs a grander glory, something Catherine couldn't achieve. Let Mommy handle the finances, you just win the gold, was a common phrase spoken in the home studio when the eight hour practices led to Val's complaints.

⠀⠀ Just like the strange misunderstanding of her father's abandonment of her, ballet is something Valentine thought she was born doing. En pointe by the time she was ten, their ankles still scream at her everyday for this immature choice, as though she had any volition over the matter. Ballet was never not an option, and it remains so today. One of the earliest attendees of the Vaganova Ballet Academy, she spent most of her years away from her mother in Russia (a godsend, really). Summers were spent by Catherine's side. Lie about it as much as she liked, by the leaving of her husband and the subsequent scourge at the hands of the Grandmother had poisoned her. She was determined, like a stubborn bull at the red cape. She never realized Valentine was standing behind the bloody fabric, nor does she see the stains and scars even now. Summers with her mother were pain, and she spent most of her time wishing to return back to the thing her mother made her be. Ballet, while a curse, was a blessing and an escape. There was no fear of violence when you were freezing your ass off in St. Petersburg, the Grandmother stuck by your side any moment you could escape the Academy and weren't going blind doing homeschool work. Still, Catherine kept it all at a minimum, at least in Val's head. It was hard to harm the daughter you wanted to be famous for her face. Still, Valentine is familiar with the look of her face with a black eye or a scratch or two. Most people couldn't see the trembling sinews of muscle on Catherine, and her calm composure never inclined anyone to think her daughter was anything less than the happiest child on Earth.

TW: Mentions of blood, abuse, and drug abuse

⠀⠀ Up until the age of sixteen, Valentine excelled. She still excels, but adolescence always prescribes problems, usually of the mental illness variety. No one saw it coming, except perhaps Val, but they weren't quite aware that the path they were on was a tightrope. Philosophy was always something that interest her, and she began to study various theories and schools of thought at the age of fourteen. She blames this for the next course of events, but of course, the seeds had always been there, planted by her mother and genetics. Existential thought had always plagued Valentine, but the night she performed for the first time with the Bolshoi Ballet (a string pulled by the Grandmother; she was a sugar plum fairy) ended in her tears and blood spread across the small backstage bathroom. Her toes were in agony, shredded and bleeding through the bandages. A treat from her mother. There were scars unseen, and no one thought much of an ugly pair of dancers feet. She was always smart like that, in Val's opinion. There was a certain admirable quality to it, and some could say Valentine's more cutthroat tendencies come from this trauma-bonded admiration. She sat with her head against the cool porcelain of the sink, her bony ass on the floor next to it. What was the point of it all? Just to end up bloodied, bruised, and an embarrassment? She had fallen. Their eyes meeting Catherine's in the dark audience, and stepped out of turn. Thankfully, it was barely noticeable, as the dance gave her some grace and her elegance made the fall look purposeful. She had saved it, making it look as though she was just a bit rusty on the technique. Her mother caught it, and it wouldn't go uncommented on. Or worse. Her toes were beating a thunderous roar in response.

⠀⠀ The days following were spent in bed, avoiding her mother as she ignored her. The isolation allowed the thoughts to settle in, and she pondered what ballet meant if it only meant she couldn't enjoy it with her faults. Even when she stopped being legally required to face the abuse her mother set force, how would they be able to escape it? They couldn't. This was the life, the path, chosen for her. And she had to make the best of it. Still, that didn't mean that the knowledge that something potentially better lied on another track, or at least a different view on the one thing she felt born to do, led Val to poor choices. Poor choices that resulted in a stay at a 30 day rehab facility for sleeping pills, Dr. Pomfrey handling her instability with Wellbutrin and medicinal weed (that no, Pom-Pom, the Wellbutrin didn't curb her cravings for), and a life-time supply of IcyHot. She moved to New York upon her 18th birthday, and joined the New York Ballet Company. Her mother keeps contact, regularly tracking her babygirl's progress, and all Val can hope is the witch keeps her distance and enjoys the sunshine of LA. She didn't want anyone warming her cold parade. She quite enjoyed the rain and garbage stink of New York, and no, she did not want to do a movie deal, Mother. Alas, Catherine insists that she needs to do more to create a better image. The tabloids and gossip blogs track the indulgent desires of New York's prima donna, often accusing the young woman of various social crimes. Well, Val would say, there's plenty. Still, every negative comment about her results in a frantic phone call and the hair-raising fear Catherine Volkov may appear with the doorman at her apartment one day.

⠀⠀ Despite her work for the New York Ballet Company, Valentine can still be found in school, seeing as her homeschooling was quite lackluster and her mother thought the stern teachings of 'real teachers' and the opinions of her peers would improve her grades. That remains to be seen, as she spends more time causing trouble than studying.

demonology

‧₊˚✧. 𝕰𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖘 .✧˚₊‧

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:
⠀⠀

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: here
𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓: here

demonology

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄

𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒:
⠀⠀ tba!!

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖: tba duh lol

character by: ferret

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