#introducingcassandra

[deathbecxmesher]

( adria arjona / 30 / she/her/hers ) — it’s been a while since we’ve seen cassandra solis in the shadow world. the witch (siphoner) resides in new york and reminds us of sun peaking over a mountain top, an instinctual drive that lives within and fingertips tingling with magic. rumor has it that they might have a connection to the new york coven as a member and zion gehena’s weak spot, but only time will tell where their loyalties really lie. until then, only one thing is certain : the descent into hell will be easy for the survivor 

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name: cassandra yuliana solis nicknames: cassie, cass age: thirty date of birth: 01/05/1993 species: witch (siphoner)location: new york city birthplace: san juan, puerto rico occupation: VFX artist in film, tv, and theatre positive traits: inquisitive, creative, instinctual, resilient, negative traits: reticent, impulsive, sedulous, defensive

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TW: abandonment, death, foster care, near death, car crash

you were born into loving arms, two pairs who held you tight, until one pair let go. fatherless, you survived on willpower and a mothers love alone. she didn't care that you were imperfect. a witch with a different connection to your magic. that is what she told you. that he left because of what you were and what you were not. you never knew if it was true, but it hurt nonetheless. and when you moved from puerto rico to new york, that distance stayed like a gaping wound.

growing up, you had to find the beauty in the small things, as a lavish lifestyle had never found you. and so you did. you found it in colour and shape and art. you found it in sunshine pouring through crystals, thunder crackling in the sky. but it did not stop the negativity that life so beligerently seemed to present you finding you. doubt set in often. one thing you never doubted was your connnection to your magic. it sat in the pit of your stomach and guided you, blindly sometimes. but it never failed you. not when others did, not when some told you, you were wrong for being. that siphoning magic from elsewhere was cheating. they didn't get it. your magic was art.

your mother died too soon, you'd barely turned seventeen. almost too old for the system but young enough to be caught in for a few years. you ran away at one point, living in the empty shop you'd lived by as a girl. surviving with fear and strength and instincts.

an older witch found you, and she took you in. kept you warm and fed. she helped you find yourself again and when it came to it, moved you into your college dorm. you graduated with a degree in visual effects.

a series of events you were never privy too unfolded, and eventually at twenty-nine you found yourself on the brink of death, upside in your upturned car, blood pooling in your ears, falling onto the roof below you. and when you managed to crawl from the wreckage you felt him. someone close. someone strong enough to help you. you didn't ask. you looked and when you found him, you pulled from him. using him to siphon the magic to save your life. enough for the paramedics to work with when they arrived. you remember his shoes before you fell unconscious. little did you know it was death himself you siphoned from.

it's been almost a year now, but knowledge of how close you had been to being claimed by the ever-uninterrupted sleep still haunts you. cars make your heart beat harder. your art is darker. but you find solace in your coven, your stable job, your friends. you find solace in sunshine pouring through crystals, and thunder crackling in the sky. because you have too, to survive.

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