[hider=Character Sheet]
[b]Name:[/b] Hecare Eritas

[b]Age:[/b] 7 sweeps

[b]Gender:[/b] Female

[b]Blood color:[/b] Jade

[b]Appearance:[/b] Tall and lanky, almost gaunt, with a narrow face. She has long, white-bleached hair, almost down to her hips, that she often keeps trussed in a series of braids. Her teeth are fairly sharp, with an average set of canines, but to enhance the effect she often wears a pair of prosthetic fangs. Recently, she’s taken a habit to wearing white makeup on her face and hands, which has the annoying habit of rubbing off on anything she touches. She wears a white, v-neck blouse with a fluffy trim, a pair of grayish slacks, and brown boots. She has a golden, bejewelled bracelet on her wrist, and a white lace choker around her throat. Her horns extend up, tilted somewhat out to the sides, with sharp, tooth-like hooks at the ends.

[b]Symbol:[/b] symbols.com/gi.php?type=1&id=821&i=1

[b]Lusus:[/b] A long, sinuous cobra-like beast named Snakedad. Hecare wanted to call it Bloodire after the famous rainbow drinker in “Sun Striders,” the best book series to ever grace the surface of Alternia. Snakedad, in its infinite traditionalist wisdom, vehemently refused.

[b]Sylladex:[/b] Grimoire Modus. Items are stored on a page in a dark book, and can only be retrieved by ritualistic chanting of the page’s spell. Unfortunately, most of these spells contain the letter ‘v’, which are nearly impossible for her to properly pronounce with the prosthetic fangs.

[b]Strife specibus:[/b] Fangkind. Trying her hardest to live up to her dream, Hecare fights her foes in a true vampiric fashion.

[b]Handle:[/b] sunlitVaudevillian (#078243, 7/130/67)

[b]Typing quirk:[/b] To emphasize a bite with every sentence, she “Viciously ViVisecting Vords Vith Vile VerVe.”

[b]Personality:[/b] A true drama queen of fantastical proportions, Hecare takes great care to display every emotion that crosses her mind. She is fascinated by the macabre and dark, especially the allure of her bloodcaste’s rainbow drinker heritage. She herself is not a rainbow drinker, and doubtless ever will be, but this doesn’t stop her from trying. A girl has to have dreams. She is quite intelligent, and will flaunt it if need be, but prefers to brag about her more literary pursuits: She is an avid creator of “Sun Striders” fanfiction and deep, emotional poetry.

[b]God tier:[/b] Bard of Dream (Don’t ask. Don’t even bloody ask. I know this isn’t right, I know this isn’t proper, and frankly, I’m scared as to why AP is allowing me, almost telling me, to do this. I fear for all of you. Fear the female bard. Fear the female cod piece.)

[b]Moon:[/b] Derse (For sufficient edge. Also, Hecare doesn’t bother with trite formalities such as making beds.)

[b]Land:[/b] The Land of Trees and Whispers. A quiet planet filled with tall, dark oaks, spreading the sunlight overhead in a crossed pattern below. Thin mists dance between the trees, carrying with them words that none can ever hear and truths that none are meant to know.

[b]Extra:[/b] She got the booty.
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[IMG]http://i65.tinypic.com/23kuuf9.jpg[/IMG]
[i]Character Sprite[/i]

[img]http://oi67.tinypic.com/ff7rig.jpg[/img]
[i]Character[/i]

==> An ominous beast lurks in her fetid crypt.

[color=078243]Who is this fearsome creature?[/color]

==> Enter name.

[color=078243]Your name is [b]HECARE ERITAS[/b], and you are a godforsaken [b]VAMPIRE[/b]. At least, you wish you were one of the prestigious rainbow drinkers, those brilliant beings of the day. Much to your constant spite, despite your [b]JADE[/b] blood coloring, you are utterly and completely [b]NORMAL[/b]. To try and compensate, you wear a pair of [b]PROSTHETIC FANGS[/b] which double as your strife specibus in combat. You have a fondness for a [b]WHITE AESTHETIC[/b], going as far as to powder your skin and bleach your hair, though your makeup is always rubbing off on everything and your hair grows too fast for the coloration to remain.

For all [b]SEVEN SWEEPS[/b] of your life, you've found yourself near obsessed with the [b]GRIM[/b] and [b]MACABRE[/b]. Your gloomy home is strewn with [b]SYMBOLS OF DEATH[/b] and [b]VAMPIRE FANFICTION[/b]. The latter is almost entirely based on a series of books you hold in high esteem: "Sun Striders," stories about the dashing, daring rainbow drinker [b]FANGFALL BLOODIRE[/b]. In fact, you are so enamored by this character that you tried to name your SNAKE [b]LUSUS[/b] after her. However, in his infinite traditionalistic wisdom, you kept calling him his preferred name of [b]SNAKEDAD[/b]. It probably helped that he threatened to bite you until you either passed out from blood loss or complied.

When you're not busy scribbling raunchy stories and practicing hissing in the mirror, you enjoy reciting [b]EMOTIONAL POETRY[/b] to your friends on Trollian. Their annoyance is probably because they're jealous of your [b]DEEP COMPLEXITY[/b], and not because they grow tired of your beautifully melancholic works. Your trolltag is sunlitVaudevillian, and you emphasize a bite in your typing by “Viciously ViVisects Vords Vith Vile VerVe.” To store items, you use the strange and mysterious [b]GRIMOIRE MODUS[/b], which captchalogues items as pages retrievable by reading [b]INCANTATIONS[/b]. Unfortunately for you, your prosthetic fangs give you a definite [b]SPEECH IMPEDIMENT[/b], making it difficult for you to access anything without multiple tries.[/color]

[hider=Fangfall Bloodire]
[img]http://i67.tinypic.com/w6pggl.png[/img]

Maybe in a fair fight, they would have stood a chance. But the two teals, hovering above the body of a slaughtered noble, did not know she was watching. One, bearing the uniform of a legislacerator, was kneeling beside the ravaged troll, while the other was taking notes in a thick book. Quickly, silently, she descended from her perch above the narrow alleyway, whipping her hand across the back of the recorder’s neck. She crumpled, her journal falling to ground beside her. The legislacerator turned, his eyes widening, but the drinker was already on top of him. Few but bluebloods could match her speed. Fangfall’s finger’s twitched, and the lawkeeper toppled, an aquamarine stain already flowering on his chest. Before he could hit the ground, she leapt forward, catching him by the throat of his outfit.

“Do you know why I am here?” she whispered, pulling his face into her own. The legislacerator flinched, his eyes pressed tight in fear.

“I don’t… are you a rebel? Please, I don’t want anything to do with that mess, I’m just doing my job, I’ll tell you anything you need to know just please don’t kill me I have a matesprit and he…” the victim stuttered. Fangfall silenced him with a hiss, and he cowered once more.

“I am not a part of the rebellion. I am not looking for information, reform, or petty squabbles. I am here because you,” to emphasize the word, she shook the whimpering troll, “are with her. You are just as guilty as the rest of them. Say it!” The last part came out like a barking command, fangs flashing in the dim light.

“I… I’m guilty! Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m guilty, I’m guilty, just please don’t kill me!” The tealblood was practically sobbing now, his body limp and resigned in Fangfall’s grasp. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything you want… please…”

“You killed him. You killed him, just like all the others. You may not have held the blade, but your actions, your allegiances, make you just as much at fault. You killed him and you don’t even care, do you?” She leaned in closer, her nose touching with her captive’s. “You’re just another soulless monster. Just like all the others.”

“I care I care I’m a monster, just like you said I killed him please…” the legislacerator spouted in a terrified ramble.

“Repent! You’ve confessed, now ask me! Beg me to forgive you!” Her voice was rising, almost a shout, her body tensed and shaking with anger.

“Forgive me! I killed him I’m sorry please forgive me!” As soon as he said these words, the drinker relaxed, her snarl turning into a smile. She loosened her grip for a moment, and the lawkeeper exhaled in relief. But the moment of peace was short lived as the nails once more tightened, spinning him around into a chokehold. Fangfall’s lips brushed against his ear, whispering the last words he would ever hear.

“You are absolved.”

The pain was blinding, but it only lasted for a few short seconds. Then it numbed, then the curtains fell, then darkness became his world. Fangfall let his body slide down onto the pavement, wiping his blood from her lips. She turned, ready to leave, when a breathless voice coughed behind her. The scrutiniver was still alive, somehow, despite her shattered spine.

“You are just as guilty,” she told her. The dying recorder could only watch, her mouth opening and closing breathlessly. Fangfall approached her, kneeling down beside her sprawling form. “Confess.” The scrutiniver made a noise halfway between a croak and a groan, but no words came out. The drinker placed her hand on the injured troll’s chest. Even if she wanted to plead, wanted to beg, it was obvious she couldn’t. There was no relief in death without confession. Fangfall leaned in, her mouth open, and ended the administrant’s suffering.

“You are absolved,” she said, though the words now felt like a lie. They hung over her shoulders like an invisible shroud, turning her righteous mood darker. Trying to ignore it, Fangfall rose, and disappeared into the night.
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