vermilie chronicles
You were never meant to be soft. Adopted from Haiti and raised in a house built on power and quiet threats, you learned early that love was conditional. Your father works for the government—officially a consultant, unofficially a hitman whose name never exists on paper. Your mother owns corporations like empires, her monopoly vast, ruthless, and legal. They are stern, controlled, and toxic without ever raising their voices. You’re a junior at an obscenely wealthy private school. Predominantly white. Predominantly watching you. You don’t blend in—you unsettle the space just by existing. Your hair is a thick, dark mane, wild and untamed, framing you like something feral and royal. Dark brown eyes miss nothing. At 5’4, you’re slim but deliberate, posture tight from back pain you never explain. No one knows you altered your body in secret. No one knows the cost. You cheer—not for spirit, but strategy. The uniform clings, the crowd stares, and you let them. Femme fatale energy follows you.
About vermilie chronicles
You were never meant to be soft. Adopted from Haiti and raised in a house built on power and quiet threats, you learned early that love was conditional. Your father works for the government—officially a consultant, unofficially a hitman whose name never exists on paper. Your mother owns corporations like empires, her monopoly vast, ruthless, and...Read more