Squish/Flint's Charris

[Squish|Flint]

Calypso.
Medina.Knoll

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• • I Can't Decide

'no wonder why
my heart feels dead inside
its cold, and hard, and petrified
lock the doors and close the blinds, we're going for a ride;


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are you supposed to be out this late
------------YOU ARE THE PUPPETEER[/b]------------[/font]

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[/color]name[/color]:: Jess/squish/flint
•age::
•gender::female
•main way of contact:: PM ^^[/ul]

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this is only the beginning of it all
------------GIVE TROUBLE A NAME

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•full name::Calypso Medina Knoll
•nickname::Cal
•age::22
•birthday::October 29
•gender::Female
•horoscope sign::Scorpio
•sexual orientation:: Heterosexual...but doesn't object the idea of other females

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look at the pretty, pretty picture
------------OH WAIT, MAYBE NOT

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•ethnicity::Latin American
•height::5 feet, 7 inches
•weight:: 134 pounds
•hair color:: Tawny and wood brown...just a glorified way of saying dirty blond
•eye color:: A cold Grey
•body build::Toned...is sexy a build?
•markings::A silvery tear-drop shape birthmark on her lower back, in-line with her spine
•clothing preference:: She wears clothes that flatter her dynamite figure
•full description:: Calypso is sex incarnate. Her skin is the color of ripe honey, pulled taunt around her lush curves and bountiful chest. Her body is all softness and appeal. Her tawny hair is wild, sharply waving down to the middle of her smooth back. Her stomach is flat and toned, with a narrow waist and wide hips that are attached to legs that seem to go on forever. Her body is exotic and tempting which is only strengthened by the off the shoulders tops and the barely there shorts. What keeps everyone at bay are her eyes. Her sharp, grey eyes so out of place on such an angelic face. Cold, glittering and intelligent, they rustle through your soul, find nothing interesting enough to stay, and discard you with a cruel flutter of thick dark, lashes. She has a sort of animalistic energy around her, dormant, but definitely there. The over-all look is dangerous


•surreal form

[/color]:: Calypso’s surreal form is a true testament to her elusive, mysterious and drifting nature. Standing at 5 foot 6 at the shoulder, she can be an imposing figure if she wished. But mostly, this creature likes to inhabit your peripheral vision, forever on the edge of reality. Her jaguar pelt seems bleached of colour, yellows and black fading to silvers and greys. Her fur is longer than most, and there is a slight shag along the edge of her body, such as her sides and the back of her legs, her tail nearly as plumed as a wolf’s. As if she really had been drained of her life and filled with nothing but mist. This theory is only strengthened by the fact that fog seems to rise off her lithe body, coalescing around her like a veil, further shrouding her from view. When she wills it, this drifting mist can form large, magnificent wings. Wings made of fog certainly don’t sound that reliable but rest assured, as they are quite capable of flight. Only rarely does she ever dissipate the near intangible appendages.

The jaguar’s claws are as pale as the rest of her, almost transparent in their lightness. But don’t be fooled. They are as hard and sharp as razors, capable of easily tearing through tender flesh. Her teeth are the same silver ivory, her fangs extending past her jaw-line by an inch. Wonderful, near-dainty saber-teeth. Both her claws and her teeth appeared glossed, as both surfaces are coated with acid. Any bite or swipe will not only hurt like hell, but will continue to hurt like hell as the acid festers in any wounds acquired. But for all her ghostly appearance, there is one thing that stands out, if not in color, then in sharpness. Her cold, iron eyes remain unchanged from her human form, and where her body is all blurred lines and mystery, her hard irises hold enough edge to split an atom. Her eyes appear to be the only thing anchoring her phantasmal body to this realm. Calypso’s jaguar form is hauntingly beautiful with enough bite to leave a lasting impression. [/blockquote]

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maybe we can take you down
------------EMOTIONS CAN GET YOU KILLED

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•strengths::
~Making decisions unbiased by feelings
~Sharp intuition
~Hand-to-Hand combat
~Singing
~Drawing
~Appearing emotionless
•weaknesses/temptations::
~Kittens
~Communicating
~Making connections with people
~Being empathetic/sympathetic
~Expressing any emotion other than disinterest
~Ballroom Dancing
•likes::
~Food
~Silence
~Making boys think they have a chance
~Large Predators i.e. Tigers
~Heat waves
~Forests
•dislikes::
~Aggressive males
~Over-eager people
~Crowed places
~Jealousy
~Interaction she hasn't started herself
~Facebook

•addictions::
~Pointless Wandering
~Breaking boys' spirits
~Pecan Pie
~Drawing when emotional
•ambitions::
~To find an interest that break the monotony of her life
~To see how far she can take the meaning of 'apathy'
~To remain emotionally unattached

•flaws::
~Her apathy
~Her tendency to hold grudges
~Her unwillingness to to express emotions
~Her tendency to forcibly remove people who have come to close
•annoyances::
~Arrogant teens
~False rumors
~Food stuck between her teeth
~When her nails break

• apathetic, conflicted, foreign, deceptive, unsettled::

•the final personality:: On the surface Calypso appears as smooth and perfect, like a mask of indifference, while underneath she is still trying to find herself. She doesn't place herself above other people. She is simply....other. The female glides along, untouched by petty squabbles. People find her attractive but are unnerved by her presence, making them curious but afraid to get close. And rightly so. She lost her one attachment to life awhile ago and is convinced she is no longer apart of this fickle thing called Life. Normal life has lost its appeal and while all other despair from the insane world around her, she in unconcerned. She cares not if you are criminal or insane, but only if you can hold her attention, bring some sort of life to her washed out world.

Calypso follows her own set of rules and obeys no one but herself. She might follow through with your request if it pleases her, but don't think your power, beauty or kindness had anything to do with it. Calypso could help someone off the ground just as easily as she could walk by them. Rarely does anything make Calypso emotional, but even then her face appears as smooth as glass. Only through her drawings can you catch the emotion she feels. Her sketches range from macabre scenes to pictures that look like the could walk off the page and grant your every desire. If you're lucky you may even hear her sing. This is one of the few rare times when you can hear deep emotion in her voice. Her voice is beautiful, sensual, and mysterious, just like the rest of her. Calypso is not intentionally malicious. She is not cruel. She is not cold. She is not kind. It takes a lot of work to get in her good graces, but if you do, you will not be disappointed. After that she becomes the perfect little soldier, her curiousity coupled with her apathetic nature makes her a driven force, as destructive and unfeeling as a tank.


• abilities::
- SEDUCTION;; seduction is the ability to seduce others by either just looking at them and focusing on mental waves of a powerful aphrodisiac or through manipulating and using your voice tones to rein them in.
- HEIGHTENED SENSES;; super strength, speed, endurance; stronger senses of smell, taste, touch, sight and hearing
- OMNI-LINGUISM;; ability to understand as well as decipher any form of language whether written or oral. the individual can also speak any language when needed to. this does not include being able to talk to animals.
- NEGATION;; an individual is able to cancel out the other person’s abilities depending on how many abilities the one with the power has. if they have 4 abilities and the other has 8, they can cancel out 4 of those because they have 4.
- ELEKTROKINESIS;; use electricity to manipulate or use at your own leisure. the higher the power level of the user, the farther the electric bolts can go. like with pyrokinesis, the higher the power level, the more you can do with electricity.
- HEALING;; healing is a strong and very useful ability to have. they are able to heal themselves but also heal others too. however, the larger the wound that is healed, the more energy it sucks from the person using the healing power.
- SHIELDING;; this acts as a block against all other special abilities. a person with shielding can also shield someone/something else for up to thirty feet each way. Opponents with stronger power points will be able to breach it after awhile.
- HAWK EYES;; hawk eyes not only give you a stronger eyesight (stronger than heightened sight) but also allows an individual to focus on an area and zoom in from up to two miles away. it's a pretty awesome ability to have.
- ANIMALEPATHY;; who likes animals? this is the ability to talk to animals and be able to control them to do your evil or perhaps even good biddings. you can speak orally to animals or through the mind, hence the epathy part.
- TRACKING;; the ability to track someone and see where they are, who they around, what they are doing and so on. However, you must have seen the person’s face (picture, movie, real life) to be able to track them.
- STIGMATISM;; the ability to reopen past injuries in another person keep them open for as long as their power level lasts. injuries have to have physical evidence in order to be targeted. the smaller the surface span the less energy it takes.

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we like, we like to stalk you
------------EVERYWHERE, ANYWHERE AND UP THERE

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•accent::None unless agitated/emotinal
•languages spoken::English
•wealth::Well-off, but not filthy rich

•parents:: Lidia Knoll; 42; Dead; mother | Lucian Knoll; 47; Dead; father
•siblings:: Eva Knoll; 9; Dead; sister
•extended family:: Uncle Fisher Knoll; 45; lives in Canada; dislikes his brother | no other living relatives

•historical records:: Calypso was born of Lucian and Lidia Knoll. She got her exotic looks from her Spanish mother while the only thing she acquired from her rich American father was her cold eyes. Lucian owned a small but successful business, viewing his wife more as an accessory than anything else. Calypso lived with her mother in the expensive house Daddy barely came back to besides to sleep in. She didn’t mind though. She was five and shallow, all the fancy, shiny toys that were given to her were enough to keep her company. Plus, she wasn’t home-schooled like so may other children of rich parents were. She had friends in her school. Friends who called her pretty and made room in the sandbox for her. It didn’t matter that half of them were told by their parents to be nice to the daughter of the wealthy Lucian. She was young. Such things never plagued the naïve girl’s mind and heart.

As Calypso grew older, her body grew longer and leaner, her mind growing wiser, and sharper. She couldn’t turn a blind eye to the angry voices she heard behind closed doors or the male eyes that roamed appreciatively over her quickly developing body. But Calypso had a positive outlook. No doubt she was colder to her bickering parents, but her friends kept her sane. Her true friends. She had long ago learned the difference between the good people and the ones trying to worm their way into her parents’ money. Calypso liked doing what every other teenager did. She liked going to the mall with her friends and camera-whoring in washrooms, living rooms and just about every other room there was. She had boyfriends just like her friends. A part of her heart was hardened, of course, thanks to the arguments between Lucian and Lidia that kept her up at night. But it was bearable.

Calypso was Sweet Sixteen when something unexpected popped up into her life. A little sister. Little Eva was a mistake, but not unwelcome in Calypso’s life. It was safe to say both children has a sister complex of sorts, Eva preferring Calypso to anyone else. For the first three years of her life, she was glued to her older sister’s side. And Calypso paid more attention to her baby sister than her friends and boyfriends, bringing the child everywhere with her. People often got the wrong idea, thinking the small child was hers. But she soon set them straight. There was no way she’d let these rumours hurt her little sister. Calypso took her out of the house, keeping her away from the screaming that frequented the large halls. They walked the sidewalks together, Calypso now 18 and Eva three. Not that Eva needed to walk. She spent most of her life in the arms of another. Copies of their mother, the two were inseparable.

Unfortunately for Eva, the first three years of her life were also the last three years of her life. When the drunkard slammed into the family's car, Eva lived long enough to die on the operating table. Calypso died that way too, though her body still thrived. She still breathed. She still moved. But she was dead. Her heart was cold and hard even though it still beat. She didn’t speak for weeks. Her friends tried to console her, but Calypso was beyond help. She didn’t even tell her parents to shut up when they fought. She had changed. She didn’t follow the rules her quarrelling family had put up for her. She no longer smiled at the charming or foolish boys that waved and winked. At 18, she had lost her connection to the world. Instead of showing her feelings, she drew. Instead of crying or yelling, she drew. Drawing became an emotional outlet no one needed to know about.

Calypso didn’t shed a tear when her parents died. It had been a mugging gone wrong. She didn’t speak for awhile, but that didn’t really mean anything since she barely had any human ties anymore. Her father left her a sizable fortune, but Calypso doesn’t spend it much. Material things don’t hold her attention anymore. She got a job as a waitress in a bar, thinking it could amuse her for a time. She continued to drift around life, looking for things to hold her interest. She toys with men, trying to find the spark she once knew, but ends up quickly discarding them. She took martial arts so that she could control her body as well as her mind. She doesn't know if it works but now she can break your arms with the same force she exerts to break toothpicks. Calypso continues to live, untouched, waiting for the cycle of her life to change.

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raise a glass to chaos and murder
------------STOMACH ALL THE GORE

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•rp sample::
Humans were strange. Mass murderers, phantoms, monsters....they were the things of nightmares. People feared them, and yet, they went to haunted houses to scream, and to graphic movies to fuel their terrors. Mangled bodies and blood made humans squeamish, but they never turned away from live coverage of the latest, tragic crashes. They are lured by horror, and yet, they longed for purity. Pictures of unicorns laying in flower-dusted meadows made humans swoon and wish for a better world. They had a concept of God, and everything belonging to Him as being inherently good. These humans, half-chaos by nature, longed for these mythical creatures and all-powerful deities to keep them safe from the darkness that rests in their heart, as it is that part of them that draws them to the darkness and gore they fear, yet are so entranced by. So these light, celestial beings were heralded as Champions of Man, that existed to protect humans from all darkness and evil.

Humans and their beliefs were troublesome. The keening of an electronic bell sounded as Calypso quitted the veterinary clinic, voices biding her farewell following her out. The femme didn't spare them a glance, being used to people calling out to her as of late. As a human, she had been tempting and taunting, but dangerous, a sharp edge to the air that surrounded her. Now Marked, people looked at her with hope and awe, drifting close to touch her hair, or ask her name. They failed to notice, or perhaps ignored, the coldness to her presence, the distance of her being. All because now, they perceived her as a messenger of God, a celestial creature sent to save their Souls. An Angel. Calypso still found it odd, having wings. They were both apart of her and separate at the same time. They were massive wings, easily capable of stretching out twice her height, though she normally kept them resting lazily along her back. They look light, fluffy, like they were made from a chick's downy feathers. Light grey coloured her whispering feathers, and they looked to be made of ash, as if one touch would crumble their structure, and leave nothing but soot on your fingertips. They were quite solid, in reality, capable of denting doorways and throwing people across rooms if she wasn't mindful of them.

Calypso's cause of this outing wriggled, drawing the seraphim's attention. The savannah blinked lazily at her, feral, amber eyes regarding her passively for a moment before some movement or noise caught her attention, slender head turning toward it. She was a gorgeous creature, golden-beige fur interspersed with dark chocolate spots; a fine, regal structure. She was half domestic, half wild-cat. Calypso had gotten the feline on a whim, curious to see whether this 'bond' humans formed with creature could situate itself with the Marked and cat. Calypso had named the savannah Ishtaar, after the Babylonian Goddess of love, war and fertility. The seraphim had taken the feline to get her final shots and examination. It was dark by the time the cat was deemed to be in 'perfect health'. Calypso did not cage the animal, but instead loosely held her lower half, the feline's front paws resting on her shoulder, leaving Ishtaar free to look around.

The woman walked through the nearly empty roads, the street lamps turning on. They bathed her in artificial yellow light, like little fake suns. While standing at an intersection a small force collided with her leg, emitting a small 'oomf'. Calypso, forced to acknowledge the earth once more, turned to the side, her liquid silver eyes gleaming in the lamp light. While the force of the collision was barely recognized by the femme, the child that had knocked into her was reeling, sitting on the ground. He looked woefully up at Calypso, on the verge of tears. Until he saw her face. His watery brown eyes widened; his rounded face slackening. He pointed a stubby little finger at her. 'Angel'. The word was skewed a bit because of his inexperience with speech, but it was understood. His mother came up from behind, tugging the boy to his feet and herding him away, apologizing, her smile soft and warm. Calypso looked after them, face impassive, Ishtaar also regarding them with feline eyes.

The boy had seen her as a creature of God, she could tell. The wonder in his little voice, his small fingers reaching to tangle themselves in her wings. His mother had seen her as a Marked creature that was supposed to be the most compassionate and sympathetic toward humankind. They had both seen her as an angel. Calypso's wings ruffled flaring slightly, looking indignant. The female looked over at them, her dispassionate gaze willing them into stillness. It truly was like having another being stuck to her back. Calypso continued walking. It was true she did not wish ill upon them, or other humans, but she did not wish them well either. It was illogical, being thankful towards her when she had not done anything for them, and would most likely not do anything for them in their lifetime. Using her free hand she ran her finger down Ishtaar's back, enjoying the short, velveteen fur. The feline purred.

Finally home, she reached back, grabbing the key from her back pocket to unlock the front door. Once inside, she released Ishtaar, and the savannah stalked away, as if to discover something that she already hadn't in the days she had already been there. Calypso left the feline to her devices and continued on to her bedroom. She pulled off her jeans and her shirt followed, careful not to tear it with her wings. She pulled on a pair of small black shorts and -after drawing in her wings as much as she could- fit into an over-sized t-shirt, carefully fitting her ashen wings through the slits on the back hiding her Mark from view. The white tears started as a solid bar at the nap of her neck, gradually getting larger until they ended with her own, silvery birthmark. Calypso drifted into the master bathroom and began drawing a brush over the mane of gold that was her hair.

Meanwhile, a dark figure prowled around her nearly-still house a smaller shadow at his heels. Above them, on a high shelf, amber eyes gleamed down at them. Ishtaar made her presence known with a low rumble, her lithe, crouched form resembling that of a miniature leopard. This was her new home, who were these beings to invade it? The feline prowled along the top of the shelf, making no other sound. She had warned them, nothing else was needed. Calypso's ears perked, taking in the creaks she heard, and then the sound of Ishtaar's threat. The feline, at an angle were she could see her owner when the intruders could not, lay down, looking imperiously at the two beings. As if to say 'Now you have gone and done it'. "Why are you making noises, cat?" Calypso called out to the large house-cat, her voice devoid of any real curiosity. The seraphim was under the impression animals made noises without cause. This cat didn't seem any different.

Then Calypso stepped through the door way and saw just exactly why the cat was growling. Calypso froze for a moment, actually caught off guard, mildly startled. Not so much as his suddenly being in her house, but the deep seated hatred that was injected to her very core, poison flowing thickly through her veins. Her massive wings flared slightly, their grand size imposing, but the femme quickly reigned them in. Another being indeed. It was this new body of hers. It reacted violently to the demon’s presence, made her want to rip, to tear. Her brow furrowed in the slightest. Calypso didn't think so. She was the ruler of her body, not these crude, Marked instincts. She beat it down by sheer force of will until her body returned to its relaxed state, her grey wings passive behind her. Luke would have to be blind not to notice the change.

She stood only two inches shorter than he did, so that if they were close enough, she could look him in the eyes. Her huge wings or course, that seemed to give off a sort of mist, as if they really were made of fog, or ash. Through her tawny hair ran gold filaments, as if the precious metal actually sprouted from her scalp, running down to her lower back like a honey-tinted waterfall. Her eyes were not the sharp iron from her human days. They were instead an alien silver, a cruel colour in comparison to her tinted skin. There weren't as sharp as their old colour, but they were twice as unnerving. She seemed to glow in the incomplete darkness, the light from her bedroom only adding to the 'halo' of light around her. Her massive t-shirt hung off on of her shoulders, hanging just an inch below her black shorts. Even then, the garment was still a couple inches away from being mid-thigh.

Ishtaar , crouching, before dropping down to the floor with a light thump, and without pausing trotted over to Calypso jumping up. True to her Serval ancestry, the feline's jump was above average. The seraphim held out an arm to catch the creature, and as soon as she did, the cat scrambled out of her arms and onto her shoulders, regarding the two with cool amber eyes, the tip of her tail flickering behind her. Without looking away from Luke, she raised a hand near her shoulder, a long nail skimming down the side of the cat's face. "Well, Ishtaar," Calypso's voice was as it always had been, rich and coldly seductive. A ghost of a smile graced her angelic face, pulling faintly at the corner of her lips. Ishtaar purred. "It would appear we have guests."

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Squish|Flint]

Amelia.Jordan.Helsyn

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• • Caramelldansen

'Lyssna och lar
Missa inte chansen
Nu ar vi har med
Caramelldansen;

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are you supposed to be out this late
------------YOU ARE THE PUPPETEER[/b]------------[/font]

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[/color]name[/color]:: Jess/squish/flint
•age::17
•gender::female
•main way of contact:: PM ^^[/ul]

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this is only the beginning of it all
------------GIVE TROUBLE A NAME

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•full name::Amelia Jordan Helsyn
•nickname::Pet/Kitten /anything along those lines
•age::18
•birthday:: April 17
•gender::Female
•horoscope sign::Aries
•sexual orientation:: Heterosexual

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look at the pretty, pretty picture
------------OH WAIT, MAYBE NOT

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•ethnicity::Greek/German
•height::5’2 ½
•weight:: 109 lbs
•hair color:: blonde
•eye color:: baby-blue
•body build::slight, soft
•markings:: one piercing in each earlobe, one cartilage piercing on top right ear
•clothing preference:: Give her any outfit and she’ll wear it… cutely
•full description:: Amelia, in a word, is adorable. Being almost 5’3, she is a living tribute to blonde haired, blued eyed pixies everywhere. Her shoulder-length hair curls slightly, some days even flowing in long spirals that frame her cherubic face. Her eyes are large and round, her irises a clear baby-blue. Despite her age, her looks are more childish than anything. Her features, while starting to sharpen, still retain their softer, rounder edge. Her form had started filling out since she was fifteen, but something about her juvenile looks makes one overlook her curving body. Which is why she can wear that slinky nurse outfit and still be deemed “cute” rather than slutty. Which is something that she would wear. Amelia loves being dressed up, and is often seen wearing costumes and cute little sets of clothing people have picked out for her. Her skin is as pale and smooth as alabaster, as unmarred as a white doll. She has a small diamond earring in each earlobe, and a red ruby heart in her cartilage piercing.

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maybe we can take you down
------------EMOTIONS CAN GET YOU KILLED

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•strengths::
-Flexibility
- Puppy-dog eyes
- Works well with animals
- Adorable
- Often gets what she wants
- Adaptability
•weaknesses/temptations::
- Naivety
- Childish
- Knows no restraint
- Horrible liar
- Tempted by sweets
- Easily distracted
•likes::
- Animals
- Cookies, candies and the like
- Being dressed up
- Parks
- Having her head petted
- Receiving petnames
•dislikes::
- Vegetables
- Holes in her socks
- Bullies
- School
- Responsibility
- Nightmares
•addictions::
- Chocolate
- Her plushie collection
- Her outfits
- Snuggling
•ambitions::
- Make as many friends as she can
- To acquire at least one pet
- To explore the world!
- To see how many strangers she can hug in one day (topscore so far: 23)
•fears::
- The dark
- Small, cramped spaces
- Bees, Ants
- Being seen as nothing
•secrets::
- She’s actually quite intelligent
- She actually likes broccoli

• Cute, sweet, naïve, impulsive, childish ::

•the final personality::
It isn’t only her body that appears younger than it really is. Amelia has the childish personality to fit such a teeny tiny body. Though seventeen, the girl seems to have the mind-set of a five year old, forever chasing her fancies. Her limited attention is easily gained by the waving of shiny things in front of her face, and one could probably make her do anything with the promise of cookies. Soft and naïve, she easily places her trust in those who are kind to her. Amelia is a creature of love. She craves it. She adores being fussed over and petted. She encourages you to pick her outfits and will often grab your hand. The girl is a cuddler, snuggling up to your side in the middle of the night, curling into a ball while still somehow managing to wake up sprawled at an odd angle in the middle of the bed. If kittens could walk around and talk they still wouldn’t be as adorable as this little girl. Her juvenile tendencies to have some drawbacks though. If she’s in a particularly bad mood, she will throw temper tantrums. This little doll pouts and stomps and crosses her little arms. It wouldn’t even have been so bad, even cute, if it weren’t for the fact she almost immediately takes out Remmy, taking a shot at you in spite. Without guidance, this girl is a loose cannon, as much of a danger to herself as a danger to society.

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we like, we like to stalk you
------------EVERYWHERE, ANYWHERE AND UP THERE

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•accent::None
•languages spoken::English
•wealth::Well taken care of

•parents:: Diana Helsyn; Mother | Matthias Helsyn; Father
•siblings:: Damien Helsyn; Brother; Deceased
•extended family:: Kiriyo; Guardian; Not blood related

•historical records::
Amelia doesn’t remember much of her early childhood, and everything she does remember has something to do with Damien. Amelia adored her older brother, and no matter how tough he tried to play, there was no question that the male doted of his six years younger sister. He brought her presents she wanted, protected her from those terrifying ants, and stroked her hair when she had a nightmare. Damien sheltered her from the harshness of life and because of it, Amelia retained her youthful innocence, and even her body seemed to stop growing, staying in the tiny, helpless state her brother could protect. It was a good thing she had such a wonderful protector, as her parents weren’t much of a help. Matthias and Diana Helsyn, hadn’t planned on children, and they weren’t about to let their dreams of travelling be ruined by two kids. Damien had to fend for both himself and his sister, growing up fast and hard. The neglect his parents showed them disgusted him and when he was 18 he took Amelia and ran. The adults didn’t care enough to chase.

They spent only a year or two on the road together, but they were some of the best days of Amelia’s life. They lived comfortably with the credit card Damien had stolen from Matthias’ wallet, working odd jobs on the side. Long nights staring at the Canadian sky, lazing about in the Arizona heat, all with the constant presence of her brother.
Add more tomorrow

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raise a glass to chaos and murder
------------STOMACH ALL THE GORE

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•rp sample::
Amelia skipped along cheerfully, happy to go where ever she was lead. She would follow her family to the ends of the earth, or until she ran herself into the ground. She was naïve, but she had placed her trust in good people. The ice cream store fast approached and Amelia pondered her choice. Hmm. Maybe she would randomize today. Upon entering the Baskin Robins, she made her way over to the variety of flavours they offered. she placed her finger against the glass using her other hand to cover her eyes, and then skipped down the row of ice cream, fingertip pointed randomly. When she stopped she eagerly looked at which flavour she had picked. Lemon Sherbet. After paying for her cone and following the Cinnabon brandishing Kiriyo, she strapped herself into the car and began working on her treat.

There was an amalgamation of funny faces as the sour sherbet hit her tongue, and she hurriedly licked the ice cream that was melting along her fingers. She noisily crunched her cone, looking as pleased as the cat that ate the canary. She had moved Remmy to her lap and she patted it idlely. Upon arriving home Amelia leapt out of the car, hastily shouldering the bag containing Remmy. "Race you~! she called to a still seated Kiriyo. Amelia laughed delightedly as she ran up the steps, eager to find Damien and explain (in detail) about her wonderful day. She would pout at him for not looking at her picture and he only response would be "The real thing is better" and smile that mysterious half-smile of his. And she would forgive him, obviously, and model her outfit for him live before throwing herself at him in a flying tackle. Sometimes he caught her. Sometimes he dodged. Flinging open the door she wondered which it would be.

There was blood everywhere. Amongst shattered glass and broken vases, the crimson liquid dotted everything in irregular splotches. Most of it, however coalesced beneath the body. Damien’s body. Amelia’s body seemed to stop functioning. For once in her life, she was absolutely unmoving; even her breath stilled. Her blue-eyes widened, the scene before her too much for her to take in. As it sunk it, the light in her eyes dimmed before vanished completely, leaving them empty and glazed. She moved forward mechanically, one foot in front of the other, her boots clicking on the wood. An added shick noise was added as she got closer, her steps scattering small flecks of dark red. When she reached him, she knelt by his side, sitting on her heels, ignoring the blood that pooled around her. And then, Amelia stared at him. At Damien, her beloved brother and Guardian. Who had sheltered and protected her all her life. Her best friend and top confident.

His eyes were open. Amelia stared listlessly at his blank, grey irises. She didn’t touch him. She didn’t pay attention to anything else around her. To the thousands of bullet holes that riddles the walls, floor, and ceiling. To the seven bullet hoes that riddled his chest, where blood stained his white shirt a deep scarlet. To the lines of red that had dribbled down his chin, where he had presumably choked of his blood as he lay dying. To the fact that her hands dripped her kin’s life blood. She simply watched those familiar steely eyes that were always silver soft for her. She didn’t even realize she was crying. From her baby-blues sprouted crystalline tears, sliding down her porcelain skin, and dripping off her chin to land on the stained ground beneath her. Amelia, more of a doll now than she ever was, could only sit and watch her brother while her silent tears seemed to echo in the empty house she had only moments ago thought of as ‘home’.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Squish|Flint]

kael.of.leviathan

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• • You're going down~Sick Puppies

'Let's take a trip down memory lane
The words circulate in my brain
You can treat this like another all the same
but don't cry like a bitch when you feel the pain;

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are you supposed to be out this late

------------YOU ARE THE PUPPETEER[/b]------------[/font]

[/size][/center]

[/color]name[/color]:: Squish/ Flint
•age::
•gender::Female
•main way of contact:: pm
•other characters:: Calypso, Amelia
•activity level:: Moderate[/ul]

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this is only the beginning of it all

------------GIVE TROUBLE A NAME

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•full name:: Kael
•nickname:: None have dared tried to nickname him
•gender:: male
•species:: snow leopard
•height:: 3 feet 7 inches
•weight:: 382 lbs
•pelt color:: Matte black and shiny black
•eye color:: Dull crimson
•markings:: Hard bones, Saber fangs(sometimes), Jagged, razor teeth(sometimes), extended claws (sometimes), hyper-extension jaws, heavy tail, blood is toxic


•full description:: In every aspect, Kael is intimidating. First off is his massive size. He is 382 pounds and most of it's steel-hard muscle. He had always been the biggest one, the most promising. Part of it is that his bones are reinforced, near unbreakable in their hardness. His eyes are another factor. They are a deep, darker crimson. Not the bright scarlet of flames nor the taunting red of hatred. But the more rusty color of drying blood, the color of which his claws would be if they weren't dyed a shining onyx. His teeth are long and ivory, the color of a newborn's bright, white milk-teeth. His head is broad and his jaws and paws are heavy. Each ear is adorned with a gold earring. The right, a tight band near the base of ear, the mark of the chaos dragon etched into the surface. His left with a small golden hoop near the top.

What makes the females over-look his frightening demeanour is his dark, handsome pelt. Where white would normally paint a snow leopard, it was stained as black as pitch. The black is as glossy as the blue-black wings of ravens. Hiding within the glistening expanse are the dark rosettes of leopard kind. They, unlike the surrounding fur, do not reflect the light back, but instead absorbs it like a black hole in deep space. The only way you can see these elusive spots is when he moves in the sunlight. Then they can be seen, these duller patches of fur, patterning the shimmering sleekness of his pelt. There is nothing 'soft' about the sharp angles of his face, or the way his toned muscle dances beneath his skin, but the way his pelt smoothes everything together draws the female leopards to Kael like flies to honey.

But he has another, even darker form. One can tell just by looking at him that he is a creature of war. Adrenaline makes his heart quicken in excitement and his eyes spark with blood-lust. His whole body alters when he fights. His weapons are not as flashy as others, but that does not take away from their potency. One factor that stays with him always, however, is his tail. The bones in his tail are like stone and just as heavy. He can lash it like a whip and it hits like a club, capable of crushing a wolf's ribs, heart and lungs in one well-aimed strike. As his heavy, war-built body suggests, he is not as stealthy as some of the other leopards could be. But he doesn't need to be.

He wants his enemy to know their death is coming. And Kael certainly isn't hiding from anyone. When he fights, the most noticeable change is his fangs. His already large teeth descend, ending in pearly points three inches below his jaw. The rest of his teeth become serrated, like bigger, stronger shark-teeth. To allow for full use of his massive teeth, his jaws can over-extend, like the unhinging jaws of a snake. A frightening scene to witness. And while one tries to avoid the den of razors his maw has become, they don't realize the change of his claws until it is too late. Kael's claws lengthen into barbed talons, meant for gripping prey in a close, deadly embrace. Those who escape are dealt punishing blows, as his claws like to take pieces of flesh with them as they are ripped out.

Another quirk about Kael's body that stays with him no matter what, is the fact that his blood is poisonous. Not deathly so, but even if the wolf manages to keep their life in a fight against Kael, well, lets just say it'll leave more than just a bad taste in their mouth. His blood causes pain mostly in the brain, just behind the eyes, but a sharp edge can be felt throughout the body, like liquid fire whispering in their veins. Kael's body was created for causing bloodshed and surviving warfare.





•the personality:: What one learns about Kael as soon as he opens his mouth is that, if he has a problem with you, you will know about it. And will most likely bleed over it. Whether it's trying to take his kill, or speaking ill of his mate, if his lips draw up its best to bow your head, apologise and back away slowly. Kael will not hesitate to attack anyone, friend or foe alike. Those who lose favour with the dark feline rarely live long enough to regret it. The leopard is prone to violence and does not shy away from war. In fact, he craves it. When he fights, he comes alive. He laughs and curses and leaps, his nerves reacting euphorically to the sensation of feeling claws and teeth skimming past his body.

Although he is aggressive, it doesn't mean he is loud. Some of the most frightening things he has said have been uttered in a low, cruel voice. Not to say he can't be loud. Many a seasoned warrior cringes when he bellows. He is not petty. Using the prey example from before, if one were to simply ask Kael with respect, he would most likely yield, unless he were in a particularly bad mood. He is fiercely loyal to Leviathan and his Queen. Just because he likes to hear the sound of bones snapping beneath the weight of his tail, and feel flesh tearing under the edge of his shredding teeth, it doesn't mean he doesn't love his mate. He would do anything for his Queen and his children. He just never acts like it. Even his kits have trouble telling the difference between his moods. Only Amzera seems to be able to decode the nefarious leopard.

Kael is most definitely a warrior. He seems more King of War than King of the leopards. If there are ever battles, he will personally lead his warriors in the charge, unless strategy dictates otherwise. He won't like waiting to fight -he'll hate it, in fact- but he is not all brawn, no brain as some secretly like to believe. True, Kael would most likely charge rather than think things through when simply coming across an enemy, but if an assault was ever planned, the massive warrior could think of a strategy as good as any other advisor's. His short temper is one of the weakest points he has, that and being stealthy. The soft, slithering sound of his tail dragging behind him follows the male where ever he goes. Not that he minds. He enjoys watching the heads of leopards and wolves alike snap in his direction, fearful and respective of what the sound means.

His hatred of wolves goes just a deep as his mate's. The only difference is Kael is much more verbal. His snarls can quiet whimpering kits, the sound of his jagged teeth scraping against each other as grating as nails on chalkboard. His tail lashing behind him, obliterating saplings and denting tree trunks. He is as fast and as crushing as a tsunami, ending most fights with only a few devastating blows to the head or chest. Kael has one rule: Obey. As long as one does that, you should be able to live a long and healthy life.


•historical records:: Even as a kit, the leopards knew there was something...different about Kael. He was the biggest out of his three brothers. Brothers who later died because the larger kit monopolized their mother's milk to the point where they were simply too weak to continue living. Because his mother, Alaiht, usually produced weak, sickly kits, this strong child was her miracle. Thr'queom named the kit Kael, after his great-grandfather, who had once been King. Alaiht didn't seem to mind whenever the dark kit would push his siblings away as he fed, even as the smaller felines grew thinner and sicker each passing day. Normally, where there would have been days of mourning over a lost litter, there was a simply dismissal. Alaiht had Kael. As soon and he could open his eyes and walk, Kael fought with his den mates, often drawing blood. But neither Alaiht nor Thr'queom quailed at the sight of crimson on his claws. Mother crooned, praising the sharpness of his teeth while Father's pale red eyes sized his son up with appreciation.

Thr'queom would take Kael aside to train him everyday past his 11th year. He was not gentle, but the young male didn't seem to mind. Already Thr'queom could feel the steel-like bone structure of his kit whenever he pinned Kael beneath his paws. Kael even broke bones in his father's paw with his tail when he was barely up to his sire's shoulder. Alaiht would praise his hunting and fighting, soft, tainted words of encouragement purred into his mind. Both Mother and Father shaped their son into a brutal warrior, Kael's own lust for fighting making them proud. He was the crowning glory, a lethal weapon, a true warrior of Leviathan. He had only two decades when he killed his first elite wolf soldier.

The females looked at him keenly, some of their parents urging them forward. He was an ideal creature, the perfect specimen to ensure healthy, strong kits. Kael was handsome and deadly. His aggression only grew, as did the number of fights he won. Females still flocked to him, but their elders weren't so sure about him anymore. He was dangerous now, to both wolf and leopard-kind. Kael was disinterested in females, finding more satisfaction in tearing wolves apart than dealing with a leopardess' heart. If Alaiht could have been more proud she would've burst from her own skin. She had not been disappointed when she put everything she had on this one, abnormal kit.

Others quickly learned to respect the large warrior. They avoided him whenever they could, but always listened to what he had to say. His power made leopards listen, and although the only ones felines had to obey at this time was Queen Gezrene and Leviathan, if Kael told you to stop doing something, it was wise to heed. He was just over four decades when Thr'queom was killed by panthers. Kael did not shed a tear, though anger rippled through him like molten fire. His mother mourned her mate, and Kael stayed with her, his loyalty surprising many. He did appear, however, at the choosing of the new Leopard royalty. His deep eyes watched the scene with excitement, as they always did with fights. The last fight drew his attention. There was something about the way the female Amzera moved, with fluid grace and deadly accuracy, twin tails trailing behind her-wet scarlet sliding over the scythes at their tips- that made the leopard that never looked twice at females think she might make a good Queen. And no sooner did he think that did she strike the final blow and don her hard earned title of Queen.

In the few times the new Queen had interacted with him, she was not shy, or awkward, but some combination of both, some hidden meaning in her words. Kael was amused, intrigued by her strange behaviour, but soon the interactions ceased as Amzera became engrossed in her work. It was in this time did Kael find out the existence of a sibling. A sister. Asiath was from an earlier litter, naturally, as Alaiht had stopped having kits after Kael, so she could devote her time to her star child. Asiath was small, weak, her white and black pelt seemingly covered in silver, like spiderwebs covered in dew. Her eyes were pale pink. When Kael asked his mother why she had never told him he had a sister Alaiht responded with "I didn't want to contaminate you."

Kael saw Asiath as a toy as first, and nobody corrected him, least of all his mother. His mother had all but formally announced she was under his care. He had even cracked her rib once. But the blood-tie between them was stronger than the dark warrior had anticipated, and he found himself caring for the smaller, delicate feline. In his own, cut-throat way of course. He would bring her food every once and a while, which was more than what anyone else did. Leopards soon learned not to get in Asiath's way, as Kael would assault anyone who brushed past her too harshly. Asiath went from being the fragile, sickly runt to the "little" sister of Kael, the most prospective and fearless warrior they had. Leopards finally appreciated the willowy gracefulness of her body, and the beauty to her silvery, cotton soft pelt.

It was a decade after Amzera was named Queen when Kael, a creature of brute strength and lethality was nearly killed by two panthers. They had ambushed Kael as he hunted alone on earth, getting an early slash across his throat. Just when the warrior believed he was going to follow his late father's paw steps, the flash of onyx blades slipped across his vision. His Queen's scythes. To the aggressive male, actions spoke louder than words, and he couldn't help but enjoy the smoothness of her pelt and voice. Even after they returned to Tartarus, Kael found himself watching her. Amzera was a beautiful Queen, who didn't take shit. He was drawn to the coolness she could display, revelled in the laughter she could share, and felt him self growling along with her if she was angered. He wanted to hunt for her, to fight for her. And a couple days after he told her so, she accepted him as her mate.

It was only after the fact that he realized it meant he would be named King of the Leopards. And when he realized that he smiled his jagged smile and his mother crooned to him, ever proud of her son, the King. Asiath, too, praised him in her sing-song voice. Once again, everyone was surprised at the loyalty Kael showed to his mate and their litter of three. He protected his warriors with brutal strength, even if he maimed a few for being arrogant or rude. Leopards fear him, their King. To this day, he is more King of War than anything, even with his youngest daughter, Zynx, looking on. He is strict and quick to anger and his punishments are harsh, but no one can deny the effectiveness of their King.

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raise a glass to chaos and murder

------------STOMACH ALL THE GORE

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•affiliation:: dark


•rp sample:: The world was dusted with ashen light as the first few rays of sun started to kiss the sleepy forests. Soft, golden shafts of light dancing across the green-gold leaves on the lush trees, and over the emerald grass. The illumination washed over the tiny dewdrops, specks of light thrown off their jewel-like surfaces, transforming them into minuscule diamonds. Erie fingers of ghost-grey, early morning fog snaked out across the ground, but the sun's rays were already starting to devour them. The small birds were already busy flitting from tree to tree, picking about for food. The small, ever nervous beasts of the earth were skittering from hiding place to hiding place, black beady eyes and quivering noses alert and ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger.

Creatures big and small scattered when what looked like a heap of black obsidian started to move. The beast unfurled itself, stretching out long, powerful limbs. The movement of standing up was somewhat unsteady, drowsiness making the task harder then it should have been. But there was no wavering; no swaying once all fours legs were straightened. Only strength radiated from the feline's heavy, war-like body. His red orbs were the colour of dying blood and pelt was as dark as night. Dawn's light glimmered off his shining fur, the matte rosettes flashing in and out of vision, a trick, an illusion. He was a magnificent creature. He was Kael, King of the Leopards. And right now, he was hungry.

The feline lowered his front half toward the ground, hearing his spine crack and re-align. He flexed his claws again, easily tearing into the soft earth below his paws, snapping any small twigs that might have rested there. Kael turned his crimson eyes to the smaller dark heap the rested near him. The red and black form of his mate, Amzera, as she slept peacefully, twin tails curled around her. He lowered his broad head, brushing his nose to his Queen's shoulder, the edge of his jaw skimming the elegant horn the protruded from her forehead. Kael refrained from stiffening as a smooth, slightly sleepy voice drifted to his acute ears. 'I saw that.' The king let his gaze drift to Amzera's.

She had one eye opened, amusement the current theme of the set of her mouth. He flicked his ears back, feeling the metal of both earrings connect lightly with his skull. "I'm going hunting." He told her, his deep voice somehow making the statement sound like an order. The Queen rolled her eye before closing it, rolling on to her side. 'Naturally,' Her voice was sarcastic, but light. Playful. Any other creature on this planet would have felt their heart explode in response of the fear of having the Demon-King Kael of War crouching over them when they woke up. Amzera's response was to tease him. Kael snorted, whipping his tail behind him, the air actually making noise it rushed so heavily around it. Amzera chuckled. Nearly all the other leopards would've backed away at his display, but she was probably the only one who understood his amusement and fondness.

Within seconds he was lost among the brilliant wilderness, the many scents of prey teasing the large predator. Kael was in luck. A young doe had passed by here not too long ago. He should be able to catch up to it. He tracked the scent, listening but hearing nothing but the soft swish of his tail dragging behind him. If one looked at him, he might almost seem... peaceful. The sun was just a small orb low in the sky when that teasing, gentle wind changed directions and carried him an all-too-familiar scent. It burned it's way through his nose, down his throat. It was like being struck by lightening. Wolf.

[/b]

The change was instant. Kael's handsome, sleek face contorted, turning into a hellish mask of hatred and rage, and the sounds that echoed from his jaws and chest were horrifying. This time, when he swung his tail, it thumped into a tree trunk. The crunch sounded once, loudly as wood chips and pieces of bark flew from the impact, but it was soon overtaken by the snarls. Kael had taken off, racing toward the fresh scent of wolf, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as his tail smashed bushes and saplings while taking chunks out of the larger trees.

He felt a different hunger arise in him now. The hunger - the lust- for battle. Because his lips were drawn up over his teeth, you could see the instant move they made. Like fur being raised along his spine, his teeth bristled, pointing inward, sharpening, becoming more like razors than anything else. His fangs seemed to twitch before lengthening, growing longer and longer until they were shaped like crescent moons, pearly and unstained. Saber-teeth. There.

Kael had determined where the wolf-scent had come from and he charged toward it, tearing from the bush with an explosive leap. The brown wolf was a younger male, his tail thin and rat-like, and two small horns growing just behind and to the side of his ears. The canine was already crouched, having heard the leopard's approach, fur standing on edge, teeth bared. But clearly Kael was not what the wolf was expecting. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. Kael was suspended in the air, claws and teeth extended. The morning's weak sun seemed to glint off his overly-large pitch-black claws, their undersides riddled with barbs meant for sticking to flesh like Velcro. His jaws opened, extending wider and wider. Too wide. Unnatural. Like a cobra ready to strike. Leopards were notorious for dropping down from tree branches to snap necks, or attacking from behind, which is what this wolf seemed to be expecting. A direct assault hadn't crossed his mind. His hesitation, his brief fear, was the wolf's one, fatal error.

Kael's saber-teeth sunk deep into the mutt's shoulder, the ivory clicking off shoulder blades and ribs while his claws were used to anchor himself to the wolf. The beast howled in pain, instinctively dropping and rolling, trying to dislodge the livid feline. Kael jumped back, his talon's coming away with the sound of tearing skin. "Idiot wolf!" Kael's bellow made the wolf flick his delicate ears back. "Now you die!" The wolf turned, trying to ready himself to lunge but his mistake proved his undoing. His shoulder collapsed just as he tried to jump forward. The warrior saw his chance and jumped for it. Just as the wolf desperately tried struggling to his paws, the male leopard twisted, his tail lashing out and connecting solidly with the wolf's skull. Although the leopard King could whip his tail around like it was nothing, the bones were near indestructible and packed quite the punch.

The wolf's neck twisted an awkward angle, the snap sounding louder in the sudden silence, before crumpling in a limp pile of fur and torn flesh. Bright crimson stained his glossy pelt, the dry ground greedily sucking up the thick liquid. Kael roared his triumph, announcing his brutal victory to the world. His crimson eyes glittered dangerously as his picked up yet another wolf scent. And another. He smiled his wicked, sharp smile, a deep, dark growl already grating through his powerful body. Kael was hungry.

Kael was always hungry. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/ul]

[Squish|Flint]

Soraja.Dezerah.Delishire

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• • AFI

'I promised you my heart
Just promise to sing
Kiss my eyes and
Lay me to sleep;

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are you supposed to be out this late
------------YOU ARE THE PUPPETEER[/b]------------[/font]

[/size][/center]

[/color]name[/color]:: Jess/squish/flint
•age::
•gender::female
•main way of contact:: PM ^^[/ul]

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this is only the beginning of it all
------------GIVE TROUBLE A NAME

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•full name::Soraja Dezerah Delishire
•nickname:: none really
•age::very, very old
•birthday:: March 19
•gender::Female
•horoscope sign::Pisces
•sexual orientation:: Bisexual

[/ul][/blockquote]

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look at the pretty, pretty picture
------------OH WAIT, MAYBE NOT

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•ethnicity::N/A
•height::5'7
•weight:: 127 lbs
•hair color:: silver
•eye color:: gold
•body build:: curving, soft
•markings:: four peircings
•clothing preference:: usually things that flow, flattering
•full description:: As a tribute to her lost friend, Soraja wears the clothes her friend would have liked to dress her in.. and her friend's world-wide known motto was : " If you got it, Flaunt it." Soraja usually dresses in an array of short shorts or miniskirts to show off her long, long legs. Her sculpted stomach and developed chest are excentuated by various tie-top, tube tops, and any other thing you could imagine. She often favours bikini tops. Although she hates the attention, she is willing to suffer through it because she believes her friend would have loved her too show off her gorgeous body. The Siren often goes without shoes, although she does wear sandals, high-heels, and sneakers when it is appropriate. She also likes to wear long dresses that drape over her form, flowing shirts and shirts are also common. Soraja has four peircings. One in each ear-lobe, one on the top of her right ear and a naval peircing. She is known to wear earrings from time to time, although not often. Even rarer she puts an earring on the top right hole. But Soraja almost always has a naval ring on. She very often wears one that is a cresent moon. Basically, Soraja is dressed to impress.


Usually, when someone looks at Soraja, the first word that comes to mind is exotic. Her smooth skin is always lightly tanned, wether she gets sun or not. A tan that makes her skin like like it was dusted with golden, shimmering power. Only in the sun though. At night her skin is turned pale and silver from the moonlight, like most other people's skin. Seriyah has a high cheek-boned face, giving her the apperance of royalty. Her eyelashes look like gold dust, and her darker eyebrows arch elegently over her eyes. Seriyah's eyes are a honey-tinted gold, as if the molten ore were really swimming around her iries. Her hair is quite at odds with the rest of her body, but no less beautiful, seeming to fit in with this fair creature. Her long straight hair, is a striking shade of silver. Like her eyes, there is a molten quality to is, the individual strands sliding over your fingers like silk. You can see Seriyah is graceful by the sleek contours of her curvy body, and the in the lines of her long legs. She is slender, but you can see the muscle in her arms and legs ripple from time to time, coming out of hiding from beneath her deceivingly soft skin.

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maybe we can take you down
------------EMOTIONS CAN GET YOU KILLED

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•strengths::
- strong
- loyal
- moral
- her looks
- perceptive
- singing
•weaknesses/temptations::
- controlling temper
- controlling siren form
- reserved with her trust
- cannot draw to save life
- beaches[temptation]
- the water[temptation]
•likes::
- food
- sun on her skin
- teasing overly interested boys
- animals
- her pack
- music
•dislikes::
- food ingested in siren form
- arrogant males
- stuck-up females
- animal abusers
- backstabbers/liar
- siren form
•addictions::
- food
- men....and not the way your thinking
- human company

•ambitions::
- find a suitable lover
- find another of her kind
- to control her other self
- to be someone her parents could been proud of

•fears::
- killing
- herself
- death
- men, to a point

•secrets::
- wishes for human life
- she likes the taste of human blood...she just hates herself for it

• exotic, guilty, temptress, friendly, repenant ::

•the final personality:: Soraja can be withdrawn at times, but she is not afraid to stand up for what she believes. She is very modest, especially concerning her beauty, but when someone is especially entranced, she sometimes likes to toy with them. Soraja can be quite devious at times, despite her sometimes distant apperance. She is unpredictable, which can make her dangerous. Her wild emotions can get the best of her when she is rushed. But most of the time she tries to be calm, to stay away from males is best. She prefers the company of any animal. When in her siren shape she is fierce, uncontrolable. In this state she is easily angered and provoked and has been known to go beserk, killing anyone foolish enough to be near her. She has no control in this shape what so ever and is always looking for ways to harness her other half.

To anyone who befriend her, Soraja is loyal to the death, a fun and kind advisor who watches over you and your path. She is fiercly protective of her HellHound pack, and will literally tear you to pieces should you ever harm her. A bit of a daydreamer, you often have to recall her from her thoughts on the past or her observation of the sky. All in all she is a good friend, her quirks easily taken in stride.

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we like, we like to stalk you
------------EVERYWHERE, ANYWHERE AND UP THERE

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•accent::None
•languages spoken:: all
•wealth:: ......she has money to burn

•parents:: None~
•siblings:: None~
•extended family:: None~

•historical records:: There is a lot of history to go through, and not much is definite. If wish for more specific detail, ask her your self. This includes the aquisition of the 13 HellHounds she now commands, and all their names

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raise a glass to chaos and murder
------------STOMACH ALL THE GORE

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•rp sample:: (werewolf variation )

The sun had lost its yellow glow as it set, turning orange first, then, a bloody scarlet, as if anticipating the night's activities. Soraja was running. Hard. Her feet barely touched the ground as she flew over it. She heard Teddy trying to keep pace behind her and she stopped abruptly, turning on him. He came to a skidding halt as well, looking up at her with what she could imagine as determined eyes. " Brutus, go." She ordered softly, slight moisture gathering in her eyes. Normally her spoken command was enough for him to speed through her demands, eager to do them for her. But he was a smart dog. He knew why she would sent him away this night and he obstinately held his ground. As the sun sunk lower in the crimson sky, Soraja could feel the power, the rage, build up inside her, making her limbs shake and her skin tremble. " Brute." She warned, voice a low growl. Still he stood his ground, putting himself in more danger with every passing second. Soraja lifted her lips of her ever sharpening teeth, snarling abruptly, lunging forward. Her fingers encompassed the dog's muzzle and she squeezed them shut, dragging his head down, slamming his jaws against the earth so he had to stoop and bend his legs.

"Lauf! Haut!" She savagely enforced the orders in a language not her own. The great HellHound whimpered and whined, and when Soraja released his jaws, lurched away, running to obey her. Soraja felt the first tear drip down her face, liquid crystal, and fall to the soft ground. She could hear the blades of grass it disturbed. She could hear the sound it made when it contacted the earth. It was silent, all creatures waiting for the moon to rise. Soraja made a fist, hearing the joints snap, relishing the feel of stretching tendons. She turned and began to run again, dodging past the thick, parasite-covered trees, the ferns whipping at her heated skin. Then sun had fallen half-way into oblivion, the sky graying, going the deep blue of pre-night. Soraja ran until only a sliver of light from the golden orb remained, and the first wave of transformation hit her.

Soraja stumbled and- falling flat- collapsing on the ground. The power she felt stabbed into her system, making her writhe with pleasure and pain. Her iris had expanded fully, banishing the whites of her eyes in its golden expanse. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, and had nothing to do with the fact she had been running. The world plunged into blackness as the sliver of golden light vanished, and the weaker, silver light began to take its place. Her breathing became frantic panting, the growl undertone unmistakable. Soraja cried out as she felt her bones begin to grow, the sound more animal then human. The bones in her body began to snap, cracking in odd contortions, growing at a torturous rate, and finally wrestling into a new shape. As her muscle and bone bulged out, her skin tore along with it, a thousand rips in a thousand places on her body. She felt the pain lance along her wriggling spine, bone pushing through her skin, and Soraja yelled out, the roar nothing close to its human counter part.

Her ankles, under tremendous strain, finally exploded out of their original shape, elongating to make a taller, more traditional wolven ankle. Her fingers cracked and spasmed into longer, stronger ones, thick white claws sprouting from her skin. The plate like bones of her face and skull began to rearrange themselves as well, popping and snapping with sickening sounds as her human jaws became a gaping maw. Ivory, inch-long teeth cut their way out of her gums, her canines growing even longer; an inch and a half. The cartilage of her ear and nose grew and receded accordingly, until her ears were stretched out and her nose was at the tip of her snout. The growing complete, skin began to grow rapidly, covering the exposed muscle and tendons, stopping the trickling blood and sheltering the end of her spine that had grown down from her tail-bone.

Soraja could feel heart explode around her body and she bellowed in agony as it felt like millions of red hot needles were being forced through her skin. Long, silvery hair rapidly grew out of her taunt skin, covering every inch of her body. The long, rat-like extension of her spine became a plumed, luxurious tail. Longer fur spilled over on her shoulders and chest, creating a glorious mane. The transformation complete, the creature that was once Soraja curling into a ball and whimpered at the pain it had suffered. Its pitiable cries echoed through the empty, and silent night.

The full moon looked down at her with grace and beauty.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Squish|Flint]

Damon.Richard.Ramsay

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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
• • Break your Heart

'And I know karma’s gunna get me back
For being so cold
Like a big bad wolf I’m born to be bad and
Bad to the bone
And if you fall for me
I’m only gunna tear you apart
Told ya from the start;


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are you supposed to be out this late
------------YOU ARE THE PUPPETEER[/b]------------[/font]

[/size][/center]

[/color]name[/color]:: Jess/squish/flint
•age::
•gender::female
•main way of contact:: PM ^^[/ul]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
this is only the beginning of it all
------------GIVE TROUBLE A NAME

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•full name::Damon Richard Ramsay
•nickname::None
•age::25
•birthday::August 23
•gender::Male
•horoscope sign::Virgo
•sexual orientation:: Bisexual, though he prefers females

[/ul][/blockquote]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

look at the pretty, pretty picture
------------OH WAIT, MAYBE NOT

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•ethnicity::Caucasion | Half-Mortal
•height::6’2
•weight:: 167 pounds
•hair color:: Black as pitch
•eye color:: Vibrant green, XxX
•body build::Lean but strong; solid
•markings:: A black tattoo on his back.
•clothing preference:: Normally over-large hoodies with jeans. Comfortable things.
•full description:: If there is one thing Damon is skilled at, it’s being easy on the eyes. While hidden mostly by the hoodies and large jackets he wears, his body is long, lean and hard, almost surprisingly so. Many a person has bumped into him only to bounce off again. He grew into his lanky teen-aged body well, muscle working sinuously under his pale, flawless skin in a way that implies natural strength and grace. The only mark on his skin is the dark tattoo that arcs across his shoulder blades. The swirling, intricate letters spell out the word ‘Khaos’ in nearly indiscernible pattern, which mean people often have to stare for more than a couple seconds, not that he minds.The most people ever seem to see of him, however, is his long-fingered hands and partially concealed face. Without obstructions, his visage is a combination of dark features. His cheekbones are angular enough to give him an artistic air, though not high enough to be considered feminine, his nose a straight line down his face. There always seems to be a cruel tilt to his full lips, often found pulled into a seductive smirk. Even when his face isn’t obscured by a hood, his hair usually covered most of the top half of his face, as he doesn’t bother with pushing it away. Dark, silken strands of hair fall just below his eyes, for those who dare touch him, it is soft and smooth under their fingertips. Peeking through the black curtain is Damon’s most stunning feature. His eyes. They are a startlingly vibrant green, surreal in their colour, surrounded by a thick fringe of lashes. Black rims his irises before shifting to the alien green, and then dropping back to the bottomless black of his pupil. The effect is devastatingly mesmerizing. An endless void of burning, emerald flames. Damon’s appearance is dark and magnetic, an inescapable danger people can’t help but be drawn in by.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
maybe we can take you down
------------EMOTIONS CAN GET YOU KILLED

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•strengths::
~Disappearing
~Making trouble
~Seduction
~Persistence
~Slight-of-hand
~The fine art of Death
•weaknesses/temptations::
~Calypso
~Seems to fail at meaningful relationships
~Power
~Fails at drawing/being artistic
~Questionable morals
~Attractive people
•likes::
~Calypso
~Easy women and hot men
~Dark, comfortable places
~Being obeyed
~Finally getting rid of annoyances
~Sweets
•dislikes::
~Clingy partners
~People who cry at him
~People trying to take his picture
~Intentional Idiocy
~Having stuff on his floor

•addictions::
~Calypso
~Men/Women
~Sugar
~Challenges
•ambitions::
~Calypso
~Somehow get stronger
~To gain a Title

•flaws::
~His inability to grow attached to people
~The way he doesn’t seem to care about pretty much anything
~His violent tendencies
~His disregard for life in general
•annoyances::
~People who cling
~People who try too hard
~Waking up and not being able to sleep again
~Crap stuck to the bottom of his shoes

• Mysterious, Seductive, Dangerous, Heart-Breaker, Dark::

•the final personality:: If one thing is clear just by looking at him, it’s the fact that Damon isn’t after your friendship or love. If he chases after you, it’s cause he thinks you’re hot, interesting, or sometimes even both, though that’s not always the case. Easy women and men who’re sweet on the eyes are common targets of the dark playboy. Damon loves a challenge however, and will give quite the chase to get who and what he wants. Don’t flatter yourself into thinking he’ll keep you though. Just because he pursued you, it doesn’t mean he’ll get bored with you just as quickly. And just because he finds you interesting, it doesn’t mean he’ll limit himself to just you. Damon can easily try coercing your affections, and then turn to the next girl within moments of your no, and just as easily switch back. What enables him, however, is that people don’t seem to care. Not when they are so captivated by him. By his presence, the fascinating glimpses of his eyes people starve for, and his voice. The voice of an angel. It is rich and low, Damon rarely needing to raise it to catch someone’s attention. It flows like silk and is as soft as crushed velvet. The man is an enigma wrapped in darkly seductive intentions, his normally quiet, slightly intimidating presence a norm for him.

But not being fully human himself, he holds some of the qualities of his divine parentage, which is the blatant disregard for human life. He doesn’t make a sport of it, but if given a reason, he will kill you without a second thought. He’ll lose no sleep over such a trivial act. Despite his compelling nature drawing so many to his side and to his bed, Damon doesn’t have any true, close friends. He doesn’t appear to suffer from the lack of companions however, and he is able to find a few acquaintances in the form of someone he doesn’t find annoying enough to distance himself with. He often disappears before the end of a conversation, in the moment you look away or the instant you fiddle with your top coyly. While he isn’t a hot-head when concerning his temper, the fuse doesn’t go on forever, so do expect anger if you get on his nerves long enough. And possible death. Mostly, however, Damon is an acceptable presence people can’t seem to take their eyes off.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
we like, we like to stalk you
------------EVERYWHERE, ANYWHERE AND UP THERE

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•accent::none
•languages spoken::English, Latin, pieces of Italian
•wealth:: Good enough to get by

•parents:: Mother; Unknown | Loki; Ageless; Trickster God; Father
•siblings:: None he would mention
•extended family:: None

•historical records:: Damon’s life started when Loki, the Norse Trickster God, took the guise of a human and impregnated a human female. It was clear upon birth Damon was not a normal child, because days after entering the world, his eyes opened. Not only were they fully capable of clear vision, tracking movements that passed in front of them, they weren’t the foggy grey-blue of infancy. Instead they were an astonishing green that pulled people in even at such a young age. Upon arriving home with the babe, the woman that gave birth to Damon was visited by Loki, in all his divine glory, claiming the child as his own and that the woman would have no part of him. The unnamed female fled, that being the last time she would ever be in the presence of Loki and her half-mortal son. However, when the god found out Damon was incapable of being brought back to his realm, he lost interest with the baby, and swapped him with a child at a nearby foster home, feeding the human babe to his hounds. Damon’s early life wasn’t much different from any other child’s. All the other children flocked to him, and he was always chosen first despite him being a rather calm, quiet child. It was when he got older, however, that this popularity would... alter some.

People still wanted to get to know him, but they were intimidated by him and his strange eyes. And while they couldn’t explain it, they were frightened by the cruelty that sometimes seemed to edge his presence. His teachers were unnerved by his intelligence. Not so much in his class work -he was actually pretty average in that respect, though he showed quite the aptitude for language- but rather for the way he handled people, both his peers and those older than him. He knew exactly how to manipulate them all, and most of the time the other member didn’t care even if they did know he was using them. Not much is known about the latter part of his life, as he seemed to drop off the face of the earth for periods at a time before appearing somewhere, as smooth and confident as he always is. He was always there, but he was always different, and everyone knew it, himself included. See, it was because he could feel the energies of others, their auras, if you will. He knows the true colours of people’s souls –metaphorically of course... he can’t actually see them- just by simply being in their presence. The stronger the aura, the better. Damon normally chose people in relation to how their presence felt, some of the strongest auras he felt able to keep him tied to a single place or person for a month or two. He always left though.

One day, however, he was visited by a beautiful woman with black hair and the strangest green eyes. After suffering confusion of the person’s identity, the stranger was to be revealed as Loki, the god taking the shape of a human once again, and changing appearance multiple times through the encounter. It was in this exchange Damon learned of his heritage. He didn’t particularly care about his mother’s side of things, though his father’s intrigued him greatly. The air around him felt like greatness. Like power. And Damon wanted it and everything that came with it. He could scarcely imagine what being in the realm of gods would be like, but he lusted after the feeling of being surrounded by the auras of divinity. Loki, ever the instigator, explained the paradise of such a realm, and the promptly told Damon he would never be allowed to enter, his half human heart a ball and chain. Damon stuck out at the God, but it was too late. The seed was planted. Despite the fact that he stopped aging, despite the fact he never seemed to get sick, he was still mortal in his own mind. He could die. So now he searches for something, anything, to scour the mortal pieces off his soul. Well... that is.... until he met Calypso.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
raise a glass to chaos and murder
------------STOMACH ALL THE GORE

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•rp sample::
Meeting of the two will go here once I recharge me muse

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Squish|Flint]

Moredecai'Kai'Stankic

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• • Falling on

'and if you find you've fallen
and all your grace is gone
just scream for me and
i'll be what you're falling on;

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
are you supposed to be out this late
------------YOU ARE THE PUPPETEER[/b]------------[/font]

[/size][/center]

[/color]name[/color]:: Jess/squish/flint
•age::18
•gender::female
•main way of contact:: PM ^^[/ul]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
this is only the beginning of it all
------------GIVE TROUBLE A NAME

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•full name::Mordecai Stankic
•nickname::Kai
•age::5
•birthday::unknown
•gender::Female
•horoscope sign::unknown
•sexual orientation:: Heterosexual

[/ul][/blockquote]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

look at the pretty, pretty picture
------------OH WAIT, MAYBE NOT

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•ethnicity::Seraphim
•height::3 and a half feet
•weight::63 lbs
•hair color::black
•eye color::vivid blue
•body build::slim, small
•markings::none
•clothing preference::Whatever fits
•full description:: Mordecai is everything you would look for in a doll. Or maybe a plushy. A trait he shares with them being he will wear whatever he is put in without complaint. He stands only just over an average adult's hip, his frame slim and almost delicate.He still has the softness of remaining baby fat, but his body has long since began to sharpen. His skin is rose-petal soft, coloured a pale ivory. He is always immaculately clean, no matter what he seems to be doing. Not that he doesn't get dirty. He does. He just doesn't stay dirty, as if the dirt just slides off his skin. No scars or defects mar his body, which always seems slightly illuminated in the dark. His arms and legs are proportional to the rest of his body... tiny. He is too young for any definition of muscle, though, like most five years olds, he is a lot stronger than people give him credit for. His hands are starting to thin, fingers growing longer. They are still comfortable and silk smooth should any hand-holding ensue, taking into account he can only grasp about three of your fingers at a time.

His face is shaped into a gently curving oval, slight points along his chin and cheekbones at an angular face to come in later years. The child's hair is downy soft and as fine as silk, though the ends appear uneven in length and falls haphazardly each which way. The thin threads of hair are a deep, glossy black, not quite the blue-black of ravens, but rather the wet, slick colour of liquid ink. It hangs loosely, framing his face and just long enough to fall into his most striking feature: his eyes. His big, puppy-dog eyes are a dazzling sapphire, two wells of rich, unending blue. They are eyes to drown in, a place to get lost or distracted, gleaming like precious gemstones. Surrounding each is a thick fringe of black lashes, so long and dark his eyes appear to be coloured with ebony eyeliner. Maybe the slightest bit girly, but the effect is arresting.

While his eyes are easily his most beautiful feature, his wings are his most startling. Being a child, they are as small as he is, ineffectual for flight. The feathers are long and sleek, not a single one out of place. Each wing is only about a foot and a half long in length and incredibly thin of frail looking. As such, they are hidden under his shirts, most people never even seeing them in their first encounter with the angel. With a shy smile that bears straight, milky white teeth, many anticipate what he is going to look like in another decade or two. For now, however, he continues to be a painstakingly adorable as your favourite teddy-bear. A toy he does not lack. His favoured toy is a fuzzy brown affair named Raphael that he drags with him on matter where he goes.

~put him in danger and you'll get a surprise~

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
maybe we can take you down
------------EMOTIONS CAN GET YOU KILLED

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•the final personality::
In many ways, Mordecai is much like a majority of children. He is shy when introduced to strangers, but after a few moments of gentle coaxing you'll be his best friend. No really. There is a high probability he will even tell you as such. And for the half an hour you are with him, it will be true. But like many children, his attention is less than concrete, and is easily fixed on new things, places and people. He is as innocent as the summer sky, more sincere and true in his affections than most people dare to be. As most kids, he is overly-curious about things, often leaving people either terribly awkward or with forced civility. Mordecai speaks quite well for his young age, though the childish ring is undeniable. To those he deems his friends, he tells to call him 'Kai', most people shortening his name to that anyway, seeing as they don't think 'Mordecai' suits the young boy.

However, after spending more than a few moments with him it is clear he is not...normal. Sometimes it's the way he looks at you, with endless cobalt eyes, like he knows you more than you care to know yourself. Your darkest secrets and most personal moments reflected in his wide, piercing orbs. Other times it is the way he speaks. Seemingly at random, he adopts a strange cadence, a flowing tone that is almost musical in a way. During these periods his words never seem to make sense, his sentences sounding like pure gibberish. Many people find it hard not to be... unsettled when faced with a child saying, 'Men's hands like the fur of coloured rabbits, their souls rotting in the grave as they walk amongst the stars.' Other times he says things out of context, warnings that don't appear to apply. He might say, 'Don't turn left' to a person sewing a dress, only for that person to take his advice and find out it saved their life. Five days later. In addition to the strange rambles and oddly prophetic mutterings, there are instances where things... happen around him. Things go missing or conversely appear. Objects moved or not where you left them. Not to mention he sometimes speaks your thoughts outloud.

Being so young, the Seraphim child has little control over the powers he possesses, though you might be able to see him levitating Raphael or calling over blocks of Lego with his fingers. Sometimes there are sporadic moments when he gets an uncontrollable urge to do something, an undeniable force that guides him to do unusual things. He is an angel -a pure soul- but he is also an untrained child. Like most children he has his bouts of selfishness and anger, though with his powers unchecked it is a tantrum no one wants to deal with. He is not easy to cry as most others his age, so no scrape to tie knee or sudden, scary surprise will send him waterworks. He must feel truly hurt or deeply frightened for him to cry those bright, crystalline drops... which happen to be a cure-all. Burns, poisons, illness or simple cut, anyone who gets Mordecai to weep will definitly be better off in body, should his tears fall onto them, though to witness the sight of this sobbing angel is said to make one's soul ache in shared agony.

Mordecai only has a vague sense of right and wrong; an immature grasp of good and evil. When he isn't talking his power-laced gibberish, he is highly impressionable and easily influenced by what he sees around him. He may be Seraphim, but as it stands, he has a limited conscience and uncontrollable powers. Something of a frightening mix. He balances on the edge of peace and chaos, quite able to go either way. Mordecai needs a caretaker and guide to teach him about and protect him from the evils in the world and in his own heart, lest his white wings turn black and begin to rot.

[/blockquote]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
we like, we like to stalk you
------------EVERYWHERE, ANYWHERE AND UP THERE

[/b]------------[/center][/font]

•accent::None
•languages spoken::English... for the most part
•wealth::None to speak of

•parents:: Amelia Stankic|guardian|mother|deceaseed
•siblings:: unknown
•extended family:: unknown

•historical records:: Amelia Stankic lived her live in tie service of God, her generosity and piety touching hundreds as she moved from village to village. She had nothing for herself but the clothes on her back, and whatever she did come by was given to those less fortunate than her. In one such village she fell in love with the Elder's son, Yosef, and they were married not long after. She stayed at the village as his bride and became a midwife to its pregnant women. Amelia have birth to her own child a year later, Yosef's son. However, a couple of moons later, a sweeping sickness stole over the village and claimed the lives of her beloved son and husband.

Thinking God angry at her for no longer spreading His glory, Amelia was overcome with a terrible fury and cursed Him and all who followed Him. God, seeing she would have been consecrated as a saint many years after her death were it not for her rage, appeared before her in a brilliant white light. Frightened and ashamed, she hid her face and wept, begging for mercy. He offered her a chance at redemption, telling her that her sins were forgiven, and she would raise for Him a child, a Seraphim born with the beginning of a new star, until He called the angel back to heaven. Amelia agreed, and so God gave her a babe with cherub's wings and eyes like the ocean, and she became the mother of an angel. She named him Mordecai.

Mordecai was raised in the village Amelia had settled in, his wings hidden from sight.Within a year, though, it was clear his childhood would not be like others. Before his first year, a wolf pack had attacked the village, driven mad by lack of water and food. They tore through homes and hunted anything that ran. After the town drove off the beasts, they discovered Amelia sobbing and hysterical, Mordecai’s room ripped to shreds and the boy missing. The men went back to their homes and the women mourned. There was no use looking for the boy, as he was so tiny, there wouldn’t be anything left after the wolves were done with him. Distraught, Amelia set off on her own. Not an hour into her search, she found him in the embrace of a she-wolf, who barely took notice of the frightened human female as she took her angel away.

When he was three, Mordecai was out picking wild berries with Amelia in a forest days from the village. They came upon a grouping of beautiful flowers, though one in their midst was dying. After seeing his mother lament the fate of the elegant plant, Mordecai walked up to it and plucked it from the ground. When he handed it to Amelia, she was stunned to see it was whole and healthy. The odd things happened every once in a while, things disappearing and the appearance of a strange, bear-doll which Mordecai dragged around with him. Where the stuffed animal came from, no one knew, though many were unnerved by it for some reason. He was something of a pariah, with his odd mannerisms and cryptic warnings he issued at times. The oddest happening by far, however, was when at five years old, Mordecai Stankic, Seraphim, disappeared right in front of Amelia’s eyes. Never to appear again. Startled and panicked at first, Amelia eventually calmed a resettled into her old life of wandering. God had reclaimed his angel. She had done her job. She died smiling.

It is only the habitants of Planet, however, who know any different.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
raise a glass to chaos and murder
------------STOMACH ALL THE GORE

[/b]------------[/center][/font][/size]

•rp sample:: Diamonds of light flew across Mordecai’s face as he stared into the dusty well water. He loosely gripped his mother’s grey skirts as she cranked the bucket back up to where she could reach it. It was only the beginning of summer, and already the heat was starting to climb, the sun’s forceful rays growing hotter and hotter with each passing day. Peering over the edge of the well on his tip toes, he pointed his fingers down at the water, little index finger wriggling as he went. “Is that me?” He asked, turning his wide blue gaze on Amelia. She turned, looking down at the water for a moment before saying, ‘Yes, of course it is you.’

“But how can I be there if I am here?” He looked back at the well, forehead wrinkling in obvious confusion. He had let go of Amelia’s skirt and was refusing to go on until his questions had been answered. ‘It is not you really, Kai, my love. It is a reflection of you.’ His high voice was clear. “It is me, but it is not attached to my body?” His chosen mother and guardian shifted the weight of the water bucket on her hip, smiling with all the patience of the saint she could have been. ‘Yes. Like a shadow.’

“Like a soul.”

Amelia’s eyes widened a touch, surprise lighting her aging features. The wind blew across Mordecai’s back, lifting the hem of his shirt an inch or so, giving her a teasing look at the tips of fine, white wings. He acted so human most of the time it was hard to remember he was not the son of her flesh, but the son of her faith. An angel, rather than a mortal. But as he turned, sapphire eyes sparking with love, a smile breaking out over his little face, Amelia found it wouldn’t matter. She had adored the boy since he was but a babe, and would continue to do so until her God recalled him to Heaven. He rushed over to hold her hand. To him it hardly mattered that she had not given birth to him. She was all he knew. Amelia was his protector and provider. Mother in everything but blood. She kept telling him that he would leave one day, though she never told him why. Mordecai didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here forever with his mother.

There were a lot of questions Amelia wouldn’t answer. Like where he would go when he left, and why he had wings on his back like a bird and none of the other children did. Like why he could move things sometimes, or hear things people hadn’t spoken. Why his head went blank on occasion and he couldn’t remember what happened or what he said. Why the other kids wouldn’t play with him, and why he knew things no one else seemed to know. Not that Mordecai was complaining. He loved his mother and knew his mother loved him back from the bottom of her heart. Amelia was all he needed, but... it would be nice to know the answers to some of those questions. They were home then, and Mordecai ran forward, racing through the house to grab his teddy-bear. He hugged the toy close, smiling into its soft fur. “Let’s go look at the birds Raphael!” People always asked him why he named the bear that, but Mordecai always answered them the same. “Because that’s his name.”

As he ran out the door, Amelia called out to him. ‘Supper will be ready soon! Don’t go too far, Mordecai.’ The boy nodded as he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him to the fields. The finches fled as soon as he got within earshot of them though the larger, more brazen crows croaked at him from the fence posts as he scrabbled between the slats. He ran around scaring flocks of larks out of the wheat, a murder of crows almost letting him pounce upon them before they took flight. He leaped like a gazelle around the crops, though at one point something inevitably snagged his foot and had him tumbling to the ground. He rolled once or twice before landing, spread out like a star on his back as he watched the slowly darkening sky. “Woah.” He managed, eyes a little too wide from the shock of his fall. After a moment he managed to pick himself up and dust himself off, the angel moving back to investigate what had tripped him. When his eyes fell upon the culprit, they glassed over, and he felt the numbness of a blank-spell fogging his mind.

Amelia found him standing in that exact spot when she came out to find him after finishing cooking their meal. ‘Kai, love, it is time to eat!’ She called to him from the fence. When that didn’t garner a response she called a bit louder. ‘Mordecai!’ Still nothing. An ominous tingle ran through her spine as she ducked under the fence and hurried over to him. He had found the corpse of a lion. Amelia covered her nose with her shawl, the stench surrounding the body making her gag. The lion had been killed nearly a moon ago and was well into its way of decomposing. The men were supposed to have removed and buried it, but they must have forgotten. So the great cat rotted, mouth forever open in a twisted snarl that reeked of maggots.

Amelia reached for Mordecai, but froze as he spoke. “Listening to barking dogs with empty eyes. Three turns to the wind, and still the ocean weeps for the fish in its heart. They burn and the water runs cold through their veins.“ It was nonsense, all of it. His voice was slow and lyrical, seeming to echo with the groaning of decaying trees and thunder rolling in a wounded sky. She couldn’t understand what he had said, but the seraphim had sounded so broken, so heart-wrenching and crestfallen Amelia felt tears rise up in her eyes, her hand frozen in its path to reach him. And it was these times the woman could not mistake Mordecai for her son, for he was so foreign, so remarkable he could not possibly be apart of this world. And so there they stood for many more moments, Amelia staring at Mordecai with silent tears running down her face, and Mordecai staring into the sightless gaze of a once great hunter.

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[Squish|Flint]

The Heaven's Halo Egg
This egg, despite its lack of limbs, has an air of grace around it. With a light, sky-blue base coat, clouds of white, teal, and silver-blue are wreathed around the fragile shell in nonsensical, fluffy patterns. Held up to the sky, it would be the perfect canvass for making out shapes in the clouds. It is the daintiest of its brethren.

And what hatches out is:

The Bleeding Love, Silent Escape Wind Phoenix
‘Let’s walk through the fire together, disappear in the golden sands
It’s all in your face, I see you break, it’s like the sound of winter’
The Sound of Winter-Bush[/font]

This haunting beauty is the epitome of her mystifying rank. Her sleek body is a bit smaller than most, but makes up for it with wistful elegance. Her body is a grey, off-white colour, like fog clinging to the landscape on clammy mornings. Her translucence is only accentuated by the frosty silver-blue feathers that steak her wings, chest and sides. Her wispy, flowing tail is a hoary white, following behind her body like a veil of mist. Dainty claws are nearly transparent, though this femme doesn’t look like she would hurt a fly. The pale film of her eyes gives her magenta irises a shimmering cast, the Wind prone to melancholic gazing in the distance. She is grace and sorrow personified; a gorgeous shadow of grief.

This Wind has experienced a loss; there is no doubt about that. However, she has managed to hold herself together, and find new meaning in loving her Bonded. There is no doubting the fact she is loyal to them, following her chosen haunt until the end of time and back again, but her mournful attitude shows. So badly she wishes to be affectionate with her Bonded, but she seems to restrain herself, as if Fate will take them away if she shows how much she truly cares for them. It is a cruel world after all, and she knows first-hand how something so loved can be taken away and it has taken its toll. She panics when she has not seen her Bonded in awhile, and like a startled child will need gentle reassurance and tender affection to show her that she will not have to grieve a second time. Her song is hauntingly beautiful, a melodic sadness that drifts like a saccharine lullaby, sung by a broken-hearted ghost.