Leon Durand

Starling — Offline

Leon Morven Durand
Witch – Chronokinesis

Need to Know

- He\Him
- 38 (Oct 14)
- 6’2”
- Black Hair
- Dark Brown Eyes (White Eyes)
- Lawyer/ Investor / Owner of Helium House in East Portland
- Lives in North Portland


-Dark and sharp eyes that are eerily adaptable to both menace and beguile
-Clothes are never ostentatious, but they do bespeak a man of means.
-Hair is chaotic, ranging from controlled to unrestrained. Style and length vary with his moods.
-Hates to shave. Prefers stubble.
-Moves with an elegance that compliments an aristocratic masculinity.
-Tall and calculatingly lean.
-Always carts a readied pair of sunglasses.

About Me

Ability Description

Hides the reality of his power behind the pretense of precognition.
No one knows the truth of what he can do.

-Expenditure of time requires a corresponding sacrifice. ie, jumping 6 years forward in time means losing 6 years of life. 1 second = 1 second lost
-Larger jumps (over two years) through time can lead to some form of memory loss as well as permanent physical and/or mental damage. The chances of this damage increase if he interacts in time rather than merely observing.
-Can slow time and speed time, but expenditures still draw costs. Costs are determined by how long the magic is sustained. Has never tried to affect a radius of more than 50 feet, and cannot slow or speed time for more than one hour.


⥣ Charismatic, Ambitious, Bold, Cunning
⥥ Obsessive, Rebellious, Secretive, Dismissive
⥧ Cultured, Political, Intelligent, Lustful


Traditions were the bones with which the skeleton of legacy was constructed, his parents incessantly reminding him of the importance of their origins. Their ceaseless diatribes were a pill he'd never fully be allowed to swallow, for without the persistence of taste, how could one hope to judge or remember with any measure of acuity? It was a pressure that bred a contentious sort of rebellion- an individual mindset that robbed the young heir of the option for a smoother road. While playing the sheep seemed easier than embodying the lion, he could not blindly submit himself to any shepherd.

It was a choice that lacked finesse when it galvanized, through youth's turbulent years, learning that tact played an important role in strategy. So, with persistence, he shaped feckless rebellion into cunning- disrespect into charm. A smile could blunt and conceal the sharpest edges, and while he valued transparency in others, Leon preferred to keep a part of himself in the shadows. Power always walked with avarice, after all, and his parents' noses were acutely attuned to any whispers that might dictate the emergence of his abilities- another specimen to pin against their sprawling ancestral tapestry.

Shedding the call for another shackle, the young witch offered a modicum of truth- Precognition. Not theatrically impressive. Comedically agrarian, but unequivocally useful. Like those that came before him, the Durands wasted no time fertilizing his potential, cultivating an unknown lie in the hopes of the coven profiteering. Leon watched the reception of Matthew's powers without a hint of jealousy, letting his younger brother absorb the excess attention. As the first-born, it did not expunge him of expectation, but it did distribute the weight of reception.

Madeline. Cherubic-faced little lark. He held all his siblings with special regard, but gender made her seem more fragile, and her smile seemed drawn to suit him. He'd always endeavored to protect them, but despite his powers, he did not see what was to come. He could not save them. His sister's ability created an anchor in her timeline he could not undo. Marcus was dead, and Madeline, while still breathing, may as well have drowned alongside him. The event wrought a destruction that twisted his ambition towards the unrecognizable.

He was in Italy when his mother called to deliver the news about Madeline, another year passing before he made his way back to Seattle and the coven she'd abandoned. The Durands persisted. They were strong, but strength would not sustain them if they did not seek to grow. Skeletons by themselves did ought but inspire remembrance, and legacy meant nothing without progression. His family may have been content to maintain, but the coven needed flesh.

It needed muscle.

He met Richard Steele while practicing law, a high profile case involving an allied coven depositing him in Portland's steel-lined streets. A reprieve from work initiated the serendipity, while at a local dive bar, running into the loud-mouthed shifter. He was passionate, pliable, and capable with direction. It was through Richard that Leon could see the profits of investing in a nightclub- an idea he'd but brushed over through the years of working under gavels and briefcases. A chance to network. A venue to conceal. A tiger to endeavor under the blade of an axe he couldn't see.

Friendship was the means of cultivating loyalty, in time, blood sealing it.

Helium House seemed to be an instant success, but it had been carefully and diligently propagated. Every step required hundreds of unseen trials, repetition a means of narrowing down what drew and what didn't. Celebrities. Congressmen. They garnered reputation, but beyond what humanity lauded, the bar offered a safe-haven for the supernatural, behind curtains even Rich could see, catering to the requirements of differing clientele.

It was a litany repaid in obedience.

His presence was a staple, but he could not abandon his work, leaving Helium House to Richard's tending while he saw to business and coven affairs. Fate lent a hand when he discovered Matthew was in the city, his mother keeping him up to date on everything that transpired in his absence. Involving his siblings had crossed his mind, but now it seemed an inevitability, his father's death paving the means for a conversation that would otherwise seem forcefully initiated.

Time. Despite his manipulation of it, it bottle necked, every walk into the future screaming a warning. Technology was a virus that would soon expose their secrets, and without action, they would be left to the pleasures of humans. He couldn't name their means or the organization, but if they did not prepare, it would fell even what his family thought was untouchable. As the shadows narrowed, Leon knew hiding was no longer advantageous. Their world called for a revolution.

And time was on his side.


Face Claim: Ben Barnes

-Currently living in North Portland, but maintains a residence in Seattle, Marseille, Alexandria, and Naples.