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HalfOfLancelot What's worse: being heartbroke or roachbit?
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
“When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this but we all have to do it.”
~ Mark Twain
| Demon | Beelzebub | Envy |
| Name |
Daniel Hamilton Belson
| Date of Birth |
Unknown - Says it's March 17th and whatever year makes him 27 (currently 1993)
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Demisexual Biromantic
| Occupation |
Bartender
| In-Depth Appearance |
Well, it's usually hard to identify any appearance for a shapeshifter of any type, however, Daniel seems to be the exception to that rule. The imagination, even for a demon, can make long strides toward 'perfection' but that's not necessarily what Danny looks for. Maybe perfection in his objective sense, that he's gotten a look that satisfies him on a whole. Even from his weird amnesiac stunt, this seemed to come to the forefront of Danny's mind and that may hint to exactly the type of person Daniel sees in himself.
A 5'11" stature, usually of a lithe, muscular variety (definitely smaller than his health nut of a friend). He keeps his hair short cropped and coiffed too perfection. He's not really a fan of how his grey eyes look, so he doesn't like to bring too much attention to them, which helps when you're perpetually tired with a half-lidded outlook on the world. That being said, Daniel tends to attract darker tones to his wardrobe and he tends to teeter on stylishly posh (hipster is what Ethan calls it) to unbelievable punk that it hurts (he counts how many times Ethan yells for him to turn off the Ramones everyday). His voice comes off baritone, cream and air and just generally very smooth despite his penchant for smoking (his morning voice is what Ethan calls a mix of Boston chain smoking hooker and Gilbert Gottfried; he takes offense to this to the extreme).
Even with the ability to shapeshift and change his form, Daniel seems to find himself unattractive and that could very possibly be rooted in his personality. Regardless, the form he keeps, the one he considers truly him, holds too much sentimental value. What he looks at in the mirror reflects what he used to be back when times were simpler. When a particular gal shot the shit with him in a smoke filled parlor room somewhere in a hotel lobby down in California.
Oddly enough, the form he holds down is actually vaguely reminiscent of what his demonic form looks like. Not much changes on the overall layout. A pair of ram's horns sprout from his temples, curling over his own ears with another sprouting just beside it on his forehead, curving along the skull before pulling up in a point; a dark green, near blackness pools over his eyes, smoking emerald into the air around the corner; black, almost tattoo like lines if not for the sheen of wetness (they aren't actually wet) that makes it look almost like blood coat his body in harsh, jagged, yet symmetrical edges; his hands can curl up into claws that look more like knifes than fingers. Most of all, in and out of his demonic form, Daniel has the flexibility of a cat and often attributes himself to such mannerisms.
A 5'11" stature, usually of a lithe, muscular variety (definitely smaller than his health nut of a friend). He keeps his hair short cropped and coiffed too perfection. He's not really a fan of how his grey eyes look, so he doesn't like to bring too much attention to them, which helps when you're perpetually tired with a half-lidded outlook on the world. That being said, Daniel tends to attract darker tones to his wardrobe and he tends to teeter on stylishly posh (hipster is what Ethan calls it) to unbelievable punk that it hurts (he counts how many times Ethan yells for him to turn off the Ramones everyday). His voice comes off baritone, cream and air and just generally very smooth despite his penchant for smoking (his morning voice is what Ethan calls a mix of Boston chain smoking hooker and Gilbert Gottfried; he takes offense to this to the extreme).
Even with the ability to shapeshift and change his form, Daniel seems to find himself unattractive and that could very possibly be rooted in his personality. Regardless, the form he keeps, the one he considers truly him, holds too much sentimental value. What he looks at in the mirror reflects what he used to be back when times were simpler. When a particular gal shot the shit with him in a smoke filled parlor room somewhere in a hotel lobby down in California.
Oddly enough, the form he holds down is actually vaguely reminiscent of what his demonic form looks like. Not much changes on the overall layout. A pair of ram's horns sprout from his temples, curling over his own ears with another sprouting just beside it on his forehead, curving along the skull before pulling up in a point; a dark green, near blackness pools over his eyes, smoking emerald into the air around the corner; black, almost tattoo like lines if not for the sheen of wetness (they aren't actually wet) that makes it look almost like blood coat his body in harsh, jagged, yet symmetrical edges; his hands can curl up into claws that look more like knifes than fingers. Most of all, in and out of his demonic form, Daniel has the flexibility of a cat and often attributes himself to such mannerisms.
| Personality |
♦ Snarky ♦ A Punk ♦ Overprotective ♦ Disrespectful ♦
What's there to say?
Not a man on earth that could whip a wit sharper than him. (That's a bold faced lie)
Prickliest might be an apt way of describing Daniel. It's not far off, like the tongue snapping with another remark no one asked for. That turns into a half-smile from his corner with a glass of whiskey and a cigarette for a chaser. Always half-unwanted but always there to throw a comment, a one-liner for effect before that mouth zips shut and his eyes roam. He's an addition, but unforgettable enough to be a regular one. The snark rabble with the leather jacket, often called a joke even if he's far from it. Maybe that's a good definition, not a lie like the ones off his tongue. A regular drifter, finds himself in a group and floats away. Comes back at the same time, wanted or not.
Snark and crass beyond the semi-act that it is, makes a half. The other half sits someone who fancies watching people and remembering. Deep drags of smoke that taste like bombshells and wooden dance floors. Nostalgia makes a big part of the second half. Specific points the float hems of dresses and burning soles on his nose. Having to stand up and act the part, or stand up and ready a fist.
Loyalty. (It's jealousy)
Protection. (That's just another word for overbearing)
Doubts find themselves chilling a glass of hard liquor and shooting a liver that can't help but hate him, even in its lack of decay. Projection staining his teeth with cigarettes because he forgets he can change that smile. All the things that bury an envy for simpler days in his stomach, cause him to look back every chance he gets. Letting go is for children.
Not a man on earth that could whip a wit sharper than him. (That's a bold faced lie)
Prickliest might be an apt way of describing Daniel. It's not far off, like the tongue snapping with another remark no one asked for. That turns into a half-smile from his corner with a glass of whiskey and a cigarette for a chaser. Always half-unwanted but always there to throw a comment, a one-liner for effect before that mouth zips shut and his eyes roam. He's an addition, but unforgettable enough to be a regular one. The snark rabble with the leather jacket, often called a joke even if he's far from it. Maybe that's a good definition, not a lie like the ones off his tongue. A regular drifter, finds himself in a group and floats away. Comes back at the same time, wanted or not.
Snark and crass beyond the semi-act that it is, makes a half. The other half sits someone who fancies watching people and remembering. Deep drags of smoke that taste like bombshells and wooden dance floors. Nostalgia makes a big part of the second half. Specific points the float hems of dresses and burning soles on his nose. Having to stand up and act the part, or stand up and ready a fist.
Loyalty. (It's jealousy)
Protection. (That's just another word for overbearing)
Doubts find themselves chilling a glass of hard liquor and shooting a liver that can't help but hate him, even in its lack of decay. Projection staining his teeth with cigarettes because he forgets he can change that smile. All the things that bury an envy for simpler days in his stomach, cause him to look back every chance he gets. Letting go is for children.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔People Watching
✔Cigarettes
✔Sitting on Balconies Watching Sunsets/Sunrises
✔Mornings
✔Coffee
✔Mints (Cause his breath smells bad from coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol)
✔Hard Liquor
✘Reckless People
✘Doing Dumb Shit
✘Loud/Obvious Assholes
✘People Being Assholes To His Friends (Only he's allowed to be an asshole)
✘Fucking cats man
✘Fae (Not really, just their fucking sparkles getting on everything)
✘Shedding. Fucking Man. Fuck.
✔Cigarettes
✔Sitting on Balconies Watching Sunsets/Sunrises
✔Mornings
✔Coffee
✔Mints (Cause his breath smells bad from coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol)
✔Hard Liquor
✘Reckless People
✘Doing Dumb Shit
✘Loud/Obvious Assholes
✘People Being Assholes To His Friends (Only he's allowed to be an asshole)
✘Fucking cats man
✘Fae (Not really, just their fucking sparkles getting on everything)
✘Shedding. Fucking Man. Fuck.
| History |
Forget me. Forgive me.
It'll only break smash break your heart
Bleed the sun through the roof red crimson blood maroon
Hot like your skin colored freckled shoulders
Whisper wind whistling in my ears
Cold cold blue cold blue blue blue blue
Yellow sun dress tiny waists
Bleed green shirts green green like eyes like envy
Time frames itself in a circle, sometimes a string; it depends on who you ask. For a primordial being—vanity's close enough, sure—time only means watching mountains waft into dust and mole hills, metaphorical and not, turn into mountains. That doesn't matter much, the old days, that is—it doesn't matter beyond birth, shit happening, and then suddenly modern-times. Well, unimportant to him, at least.
Like any dumb romantic whatsit, the world seemed dull until boom they came in to color the world in pretty reds and blues and yellows. You know, the usual. And yet, he often brushes that moment off like it didn't affect him—like it didn't drive a pole through his blackened heart and colored it red and blue and yellow. They started as friends, meeting in a grocery mart in Sacramento. She worked for a big law firm, a secretary for a man that smelled of Cuban cigars and too much piss-cologne. At that moment, he found work as an editor to a publishing company downtown a few blocks away. They both lived in neighboring apartment complexes in east Sacramento.
She wore knee-length dresses, fitted to the best of her ability around a too thin waist, and an assortment of hats despite her lack of a shoe collection—either the deep, lipstick red heels or black loafers. She'd sing under her breath, whisper tones of Billie Holiday or Bing Crosby. And she'd smile over the kitchen counter, a finger of whiskey in her glass and gossip on her tongue, a complain not far away. He didn't know he'd fallen until she'd slipped out of his fingers, dancing along the floor in red toes and a the hem of her dress caught in her hands, dipped in the arms of another man.
Envy. Funny how it never strolled too far away—his in a green button up, gripping her waist soft but firm.
Opportunity to dissolve into the very being he was created to be came in vast numbers. Yet, he'd been softened, his heart less black than years before. He took none until he found himself vowing to protect the little shred of happiness she'd been awarded. The two, minus he, took up a family before the war hit hard and, well... her happiness meant more than his petty envy, even if he still tempted on the sly.
Protecting not only her, but the man she came to love, all the way in grey toned France remained difficult. He expected such. And when things died down, turned in their favor, he took a chance; he'd be okay, so would she. He wouldn't. A being of his power, well, faking deaths just came natural—natural just another word for simple, in this case. He'd turned up later, boarding a ship out to America with a different face and sought to detach himself from what had driven so deeply in his skin, like barbs on a hook.
Barbs don't leave easy. A year later, he found himself a woman, literally, and bought the empty house across from theirs. And years past. And years past. Everything hurt. And then they didn't. And then they hurt again. Eventually, she died and he moved on to watch her only child. It became a routine, watching a kid grow up and then watching that adult make the same mistakes as their mother or, well, eventually grandmother, and looking back again and again and growing a seed of hatred, letting it blossom and fall away into the eyes of another child.
He was content to do that, sure, until this particular one coming up at age 8 teetering alone on the edge of a playground. A friend. He'd fall for the same shtick again later in life, but the risk was worth it if it just meant this kid could have a friend. He'd promised, held that vow to his heart despite it growing stone cold again. And in doing so, he let everything but the essentials just wash away—things like remember what song she liked to listen to while washing the dishes, or what it was like to see her eyes when she laughed. Everything but a vow and the very important fact that he wasn't human, locked up in a tiny box and shoved in the back of his subconscious for later.
Growing up having to remember to actually, consciously change features into the face he used to have, came easier than expected. Daniel. Daniel Belson. A trouble child who got into too many fights for hanging around a weird kid. Who started fights and thrived off the energy of jealousy they brewed. A little demon and, as the years passed, that realization became a fact even with the lock on his memories, the instinct still remained and the nostalgia, however odd and out of place, staid put. Envy of the past, he called it with a cigarette in his sixteen year old lips, nabbed from a man on the subway after a hasty move to the UK. It made the boy laugh for some reason or other. That's all that mattered.
That's all that ever mattered. Hearing his quiet whispers to Frank Sinatra go into full bursting moans to Adele or Journey. That taste in music could be better, but not as good as seeing a full row of white teeth begging him to join. Daniel followed wherever he'd take them or staid put whenever asked. More swinging, dancing, feet bouncing off hard floor instead of wood in converse instead of dance shoes, throwing back colorful drinks instead of sipping at bourbon. This time he caught himself. Fool thought it would help.
But like a key, the raging storm ready to swallow him and the rest unlocked what he pushed back. And they all flooded in and he reeled back, scared now. His truth came to him as the entire truth flooded the world. Beasts like him with flood lights shone all over cast large shadows that couldn't be painted away. Panic and fear set in people he used to blend in with, a literal demon, black against the backdrop of colorful humanity. And he found himself scared those thoughts of fear and panic would spread to him, of it happening again like a wheel, a circle he found himself slotted in.
Envy, after all, came in green tones.
It'll only break smash break your heart
Bleed the sun through the roof red crimson blood maroon
Hot like your skin colored freckled shoulders
Whisper wind whistling in my ears
Cold cold blue cold blue blue blue blue
Yellow sun dress tiny waists
Bleed green shirts green green like eyes like envy
Time frames itself in a circle, sometimes a string; it depends on who you ask. For a primordial being—vanity's close enough, sure—time only means watching mountains waft into dust and mole hills, metaphorical and not, turn into mountains. That doesn't matter much, the old days, that is—it doesn't matter beyond birth, shit happening, and then suddenly modern-times. Well, unimportant to him, at least.
Like any dumb romantic whatsit, the world seemed dull until boom they came in to color the world in pretty reds and blues and yellows. You know, the usual. And yet, he often brushes that moment off like it didn't affect him—like it didn't drive a pole through his blackened heart and colored it red and blue and yellow. They started as friends, meeting in a grocery mart in Sacramento. She worked for a big law firm, a secretary for a man that smelled of Cuban cigars and too much piss-cologne. At that moment, he found work as an editor to a publishing company downtown a few blocks away. They both lived in neighboring apartment complexes in east Sacramento.
She wore knee-length dresses, fitted to the best of her ability around a too thin waist, and an assortment of hats despite her lack of a shoe collection—either the deep, lipstick red heels or black loafers. She'd sing under her breath, whisper tones of Billie Holiday or Bing Crosby. And she'd smile over the kitchen counter, a finger of whiskey in her glass and gossip on her tongue, a complain not far away. He didn't know he'd fallen until she'd slipped out of his fingers, dancing along the floor in red toes and a the hem of her dress caught in her hands, dipped in the arms of another man.
Envy. Funny how it never strolled too far away—his in a green button up, gripping her waist soft but firm.
Opportunity to dissolve into the very being he was created to be came in vast numbers. Yet, he'd been softened, his heart less black than years before. He took none until he found himself vowing to protect the little shred of happiness she'd been awarded. The two, minus he, took up a family before the war hit hard and, well... her happiness meant more than his petty envy, even if he still tempted on the sly.
Protecting not only her, but the man she came to love, all the way in grey toned France remained difficult. He expected such. And when things died down, turned in their favor, he took a chance; he'd be okay, so would she. He wouldn't. A being of his power, well, faking deaths just came natural—natural just another word for simple, in this case. He'd turned up later, boarding a ship out to America with a different face and sought to detach himself from what had driven so deeply in his skin, like barbs on a hook.
Barbs don't leave easy. A year later, he found himself a woman, literally, and bought the empty house across from theirs. And years past. And years past. Everything hurt. And then they didn't. And then they hurt again. Eventually, she died and he moved on to watch her only child. It became a routine, watching a kid grow up and then watching that adult make the same mistakes as their mother or, well, eventually grandmother, and looking back again and again and growing a seed of hatred, letting it blossom and fall away into the eyes of another child.
He was content to do that, sure, until this particular one coming up at age 8 teetering alone on the edge of a playground. A friend. He'd fall for the same shtick again later in life, but the risk was worth it if it just meant this kid could have a friend. He'd promised, held that vow to his heart despite it growing stone cold again. And in doing so, he let everything but the essentials just wash away—things like remember what song she liked to listen to while washing the dishes, or what it was like to see her eyes when she laughed. Everything but a vow and the very important fact that he wasn't human, locked up in a tiny box and shoved in the back of his subconscious for later.
Growing up having to remember to actually, consciously change features into the face he used to have, came easier than expected. Daniel. Daniel Belson. A trouble child who got into too many fights for hanging around a weird kid. Who started fights and thrived off the energy of jealousy they brewed. A little demon and, as the years passed, that realization became a fact even with the lock on his memories, the instinct still remained and the nostalgia, however odd and out of place, staid put. Envy of the past, he called it with a cigarette in his sixteen year old lips, nabbed from a man on the subway after a hasty move to the UK. It made the boy laugh for some reason or other. That's all that mattered.
That's all that ever mattered. Hearing his quiet whispers to Frank Sinatra go into full bursting moans to Adele or Journey. That taste in music could be better, but not as good as seeing a full row of white teeth begging him to join. Daniel followed wherever he'd take them or staid put whenever asked. More swinging, dancing, feet bouncing off hard floor instead of wood in converse instead of dance shoes, throwing back colorful drinks instead of sipping at bourbon. This time he caught himself. Fool thought it would help.
But like a key, the raging storm ready to swallow him and the rest unlocked what he pushed back. And they all flooded in and he reeled back, scared now. His truth came to him as the entire truth flooded the world. Beasts like him with flood lights shone all over cast large shadows that couldn't be painted away. Panic and fear set in people he used to blend in with, a literal demon, black against the backdrop of colorful humanity. And he found himself scared those thoughts of fear and panic would spread to him, of it happening again like a wheel, a circle he found himself slotted in.
Envy, after all, came in green tones.
| Family |
Dana King - [Not Related]
A young witch who works at a bookshop/book repair shop just a few blocks from the apartments. She lives far enough away that she has to take the subway to work every morning. She stays over if her day ends super late; she brings the cat, who absolutely despises Daniel. Dana also tends to have a bum boyfriend who comes over, one of those 'men stuck out of time' deal from the middle ages. He's odd, but not in the way one would expect; Lionel actually fits in perfectly with this world and that creeps the shit out of Daniel the most. He's quirky and odd and has a penchant for bringing in stray dogs, which doesn't help his situation because Ethan's a fucking dog hoarder too.
| Strengths |
- Compulsive Liar
- Perceptive
- Elusive
| Weaknesses |
- Self-Deprecating
- Temperamental
- Overbearing
| Theme |
Roses – The Chainsmokers
” Deep in my bones, I can feel you
Take me back to a time only we knew
Hideaway
We could waste the night with an old film
Smoke a little weed on the couch in the back room
Hideaway
Say you'll never let me go ”
” Deep in my bones, I can feel you
Take me back to a time only we knew
Hideaway
We could waste the night with an old film
Smoke a little weed on the couch in the back room
Hideaway
Say you'll never let me go ”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights - 26B
| Extra Information |
Shapeshifts, which is really it.
He denies it, but pet his hair and he'll fucking conk out immediately (Ethan says he purrs but that's totally dumb. Stupid. No he doesn't. Shut up.)
He denies it, but pet his hair and he'll fucking conk out immediately (Ethan says he purrs but that's totally dumb. Stupid. No he doesn't. Shut up.)
Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts
Member
Seen
1 hr ago
Mariska Costas
Nymph || Ondine
Nymph || Ondine
Basic Information
| Name |
Mariska Costas
| Date of Birth |
August 14, Year Unknown
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Vocal Professional, which is a fancy way of saying Singer
Mariska performs as a lounge singer at nighttime establishments, though she does take bookings for events and parties and the like. She describes her style as 'neo jazz fusion' but to anyone off the street she's a jazz singer who doesn't just croon but adds a bit of a poppy bend to the performances.
| In-Depth Appearance |
For someone that has lost count of her age, most people not in the know wouldn't say Mariska was a day over thirty, and that was if they were being kind; they always were being kind. Mariska does not cut a striking figure on or off the stage, she's not exactly tall, coming in at just about five foot six inches flat, nor is she particularly curvaceous. Hers is a more...elegant sort of affair, or her own take on the term that's long since lost its meaning.
When not under the burning heat of the spotlight and the sizzling gaze of a captive audience, Mariska's sense of style is a playfully casual sort of formal. Rare is the time when Mariska isn't at least in a button down top or slacks though on a particularly warm or springy sort of day, a modest sundress with spring, blue colors is more in her wheelhouse. Unless covered by a hat - as is the case enough to warrant a mention - Mariska's hair is on full display. Midnight dark and styled to be as short as possible, the close crop style is her bread and butter look and never, NEVER, does she leave without her hair being properly straightened.
When on stage and performing it's always dresses, no exception, and each of them tailored in such a way as to show off just enough leg to capture initial attention while her voice does the rest. She tends to favor blue or white dresses that, when caught in the light during a high note, wow with a literal shine. It's all in the presentation after all.
Her voice depends on when you catch her. On stage, when singing, it's got a husky lilt to it, fitting for one that hung around people smoking their cigarettes and drinking their booze in dimly lit clubs. Normally, in the day to day, the lilt is gone but the husk remains, albeit sounding a bit more raspy than overtly sensual.
When not under the burning heat of the spotlight and the sizzling gaze of a captive audience, Mariska's sense of style is a playfully casual sort of formal. Rare is the time when Mariska isn't at least in a button down top or slacks though on a particularly warm or springy sort of day, a modest sundress with spring, blue colors is more in her wheelhouse. Unless covered by a hat - as is the case enough to warrant a mention - Mariska's hair is on full display. Midnight dark and styled to be as short as possible, the close crop style is her bread and butter look and never, NEVER, does she leave without her hair being properly straightened.
When on stage and performing it's always dresses, no exception, and each of them tailored in such a way as to show off just enough leg to capture initial attention while her voice does the rest. She tends to favor blue or white dresses that, when caught in the light during a high note, wow with a literal shine. It's all in the presentation after all.
Her voice depends on when you catch her. On stage, when singing, it's got a husky lilt to it, fitting for one that hung around people smoking their cigarettes and drinking their booze in dimly lit clubs. Normally, in the day to day, the lilt is gone but the husk remains, albeit sounding a bit more raspy than overtly sensual.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Sensuous ♦ Exasperated ♦ Bohemian ♦ Hopelessly Romantic ♦
At some point, singing songs about unrequited love or deeply passionate one time flings becomes a matter of art imitating life and with Mariska that point has long since passed. Mariska doesn't crave attention, she craves affection and does not make any effort to hide that fact. From the tones of her voice to a carefully delivered smile and wink, it's all part of the ruse to make sure that those who see her are thinking more than just how lovely her singing voice is.
A long lived life does have its downsides, and though Mariska desires and demands affection she knows, or believes anyway, that it's all superficial, that such a thing as romance doesn't exist when it comes to her. Other people might know the joy of love and true romance, but Mariska doesn't share in that belief, both because of her relations with the ordinary humans that populate the land and due to the fact that none of her flings have amounted to anything other than that. She knows that humans are not a long lived sort and with the cost of truly loving her entails, it's far easier to simply get caught up in the fantasy of romance and love rather than seek it out herself.
Being an entertainer by trade, Mariska fashions herself as something of a renaissance woman, likening herself to those classic starlets of an era gone by. She doesn't quite live up to those fantastical ideals, what with not exactly being the most well spoken or eloquent despite what her manner of dress would have one believe. It's a balancing act with Mariska. She walks the fine line between being the ideal classy fantasy and the bitter reality that she's hovering just above being a bitter, forgotten old woman.
A long lived life does have its downsides, and though Mariska desires and demands affection she knows, or believes anyway, that it's all superficial, that such a thing as romance doesn't exist when it comes to her. Other people might know the joy of love and true romance, but Mariska doesn't share in that belief, both because of her relations with the ordinary humans that populate the land and due to the fact that none of her flings have amounted to anything other than that. She knows that humans are not a long lived sort and with the cost of truly loving her entails, it's far easier to simply get caught up in the fantasy of romance and love rather than seek it out herself.
Being an entertainer by trade, Mariska fashions herself as something of a renaissance woman, likening herself to those classic starlets of an era gone by. She doesn't quite live up to those fantastical ideals, what with not exactly being the most well spoken or eloquent despite what her manner of dress would have one believe. It's a balancing act with Mariska. She walks the fine line between being the ideal classy fantasy and the bitter reality that she's hovering just above being a bitter, forgotten old woman.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Romantic movies and stories, not comedies - romance can be humorous but it's no comedy
✔ Crisp, cold, non bottled water, ideally from a spring or brook
✔ The outdated ideal of chivalry, without the negative connotations the modern sort spins on it
✔Sweets, but not chocolates. Chocolates are boring.
✔Art, particularly paintings. Especially paintings, actually.
✔Music, hearing, writing, singing, whatever. It soothed the savage beast for a reason.
✔Seafood, and not just the aphrodisiac shellfish variety.
✔Rainy days, the rainier the better
✘When they say they'll stay in touch and it's a bold faced lie
✘Anyone whose opinion on any topic is a resounding 'it's okay'
✘Boorish individuals, which often includes herself
✘Cheats, and not in the swindler, con artist sort of the word
✘Carbonated beverages; why drink that sugary swill when there's a far more refreshing alternative
✘Overly warm weather, summer is dreadful
✘Those that do not care about cleanliness
✔ Crisp, cold, non bottled water, ideally from a spring or brook
✔ The outdated ideal of chivalry, without the negative connotations the modern sort spins on it
✔Sweets, but not chocolates. Chocolates are boring.
✔Art, particularly paintings. Especially paintings, actually.
✔Music, hearing, writing, singing, whatever. It soothed the savage beast for a reason.
✔Seafood, and not just the aphrodisiac shellfish variety.
✔Rainy days, the rainier the better
✘When they say they'll stay in touch and it's a bold faced lie
✘Anyone whose opinion on any topic is a resounding 'it's okay'
✘Boorish individuals, which often includes herself
✘Cheats, and not in the swindler, con artist sort of the word
✘Carbonated beverages; why drink that sugary swill when there's a far more refreshing alternative
✘Overly warm weather, summer is dreadful
✘Those that do not care about cleanliness
| History |
Mariska's obsession with love and affection isn't just because of her long life of singing about that which she can only romanticize, it's burned deep into what she as. As an undine she's drawn to romance, to love and being loved in kind; however falling in love with a human and entering into that sacred bond known as marriage is nothing short of a hurdle. She maintains her younger appearance so long as she doesn't enter into matrimony or carry a child; doing either begins her aging. And after years of seeing men and women go behind the back of their spouse for someone younger, the fact that her aging is tied to those basic human desires is what has her simply fantasizing about true love. Mariska fails to mention that one unfaithful to her meets a rather grim fate because she doesn't wish to frighten someone into being faithful. That's not how love works.
Mariska had been singing for as long as she remembers. It just seemed the natural thing to do; she came into the world with a song on her lips and when such a day comes when she leaves the world...she'll likely do it with a melody. She's been exposed to decades of human entertainment, from the classical pieces composed by the hard of hearing and the young, to the sweeping operatic movements, and even through that terrible period where everyone wore flannel and made noise the mainstream. Mariska became quite taken with what was known in the western world as the Roaring Twenties, mainly for their style and their song...less so their seedier and scuzzier elements. But then, every era has its black spots.
She was always fortunate to not exhibit any overtly supernatural qualities - the people enthralled by her singing was easily written off as people just being fans - but because of the simple fact that her aging is monumentally slower she never liked staying in one place for too long. Changing identities was simple enough when you outlived people frequently, and living the bohemian, vagabond life had its own charms...such as never being without a topic of conversation at galas.
Mariska would like to be more known for her music, a record deal, awards, adoring fans and the like, but the problem with fame is that it puts you under the spotlight and how could she explain looking the same in, say, 1950 as she did in 2015? But now that the secret is out, perhaps steps could be made to ensure that Mariska Costas is a more widely known name.
Mariska had been singing for as long as she remembers. It just seemed the natural thing to do; she came into the world with a song on her lips and when such a day comes when she leaves the world...she'll likely do it with a melody. She's been exposed to decades of human entertainment, from the classical pieces composed by the hard of hearing and the young, to the sweeping operatic movements, and even through that terrible period where everyone wore flannel and made noise the mainstream. Mariska became quite taken with what was known in the western world as the Roaring Twenties, mainly for their style and their song...less so their seedier and scuzzier elements. But then, every era has its black spots.
She was always fortunate to not exhibit any overtly supernatural qualities - the people enthralled by her singing was easily written off as people just being fans - but because of the simple fact that her aging is monumentally slower she never liked staying in one place for too long. Changing identities was simple enough when you outlived people frequently, and living the bohemian, vagabond life had its own charms...such as never being without a topic of conversation at galas.
Mariska would like to be more known for her music, a record deal, awards, adoring fans and the like, but the problem with fame is that it puts you under the spotlight and how could she explain looking the same in, say, 1950 as she did in 2015? But now that the secret is out, perhaps steps could be made to ensure that Mariska Costas is a more widely known name.
| Family |
Not Applicable
| Strengths |
- Worldly
- Open-minded
- Irreverent, free thinker
| Weaknesses |
- Overly emotional
- Impulsive
- Easily swayed by empty promises
The Other
| Theme Song |
Stuck – Caro Emerald
”I close my eyes and dream about a sunny holiday
I wish that I was beaching down on Saint Tropez
Or sitting in the lobby at the fabulous 'Pierre'
With diamonds on my fingers and not a single care
Instead I’m on the avenue where nobody goes
With fields of green that wilted like a last summer rose
Some people call it paradise but I call it pain
Baby, take me anywhere but not here again”
”I close my eyes and dream about a sunny holiday
I wish that I was beaching down on Saint Tropez
Or sitting in the lobby at the fabulous 'Pierre'
With diamonds on my fingers and not a single care
Instead I’m on the avenue where nobody goes
With fields of green that wilted like a last summer rose
Some people call it paradise but I call it pain
Baby, take me anywhere but not here again”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights, 28A
| Extra Information |
All good, fam
Mariska Costas
Blake Preston
"Well if nothing else she seems to be doing exactly what she wants to do with her life. What that is I don't know, but I'm not her mother."
"Well if nothing else she seems to be doing exactly what she wants to do with her life. What that is I don't know, but I'm not her mother."
I really can't get past her...I hesitate to call it 'style' but the right word is failing me. I've met enough like her to know that she's reaching that age when being the little rebel stops seeming cool. Let's be honest here, it's 2020, flannel stopped being 'in' in the mid 1990s. She seems a bit...temperamental but I have nothing against her. Other than disagreeing with her fashion, but that's a different story.
Daniel Belson
"Pretty face. Ugly habits."
"Pretty face. Ugly habits."
I've had the distinct...pleasure of being around when he was behind the bar and my little ears were burning and it wasn't from all the smoke and hard liquor. I believe he might not be as funny as he believes himself to be, but I'm not going to be the one to tell that to him.
Alistair Queen
"He has the name of a knight in armor and that's all I need to know."
"He has the name of a knight in armor and that's all I need to know."
I can't quite confirm it, but my working theory is that he and I dress ourselves for similar reasons. In that we're both wanting to look older than we, well, look. But I'm actually aging and I'm not so sure he is. Landlords don't look like him.
Mariska Costas
"Why hasn't that girl won a Grammy? Or at least a BRIT?"
"Why hasn't that girl won a Grammy? Or at least a BRIT?"
I'm lovely. I also tell people I'm from Greece because it makes me sound far more cultured.
Nikita Yankovsky
"I'd like to have a rasp-off with her. Because of the voice, you see."
"I'd like to have a rasp-off with her. Because of the voice, you see."
I can't imagine the sort who wouldn't mind being thrown in cuffs so long as she was the officer on site. Lovely sort, but I can't imagine her to ever find love. Something about her just makes me think the romantic life would bore her to tears. And that's tragic.
Mordred Hame
"The Salieri to my Mozart. I respect him as a creative, enough so to let him live with me."
"The Salieri to my Mozart. I respect him as a creative, enough so to let him live with me."
Mordred is a fine friend even if our favored styles of music are diametrically opposed. He might not know it, but I'm a fan of his, not his music exactly but of his success. I wish him well and my door is always open for the strangest collaboration this side of David Bowie and Bing Crosby.
John Taylor
"Some people once said that boys and girls could never be friends. I point to John Taylor and myself."
"Some people once said that boys and girls could never be friends. I point to John Taylor and myself."
You'd think someone who wears sweat pants wouldn't be someone I'd want to associate with...but what can I say, he makes a half decent meal. My art is music and his is ink and skin, but art is art and it helped to have that in common. He's a good mate and definitely the best one I've roomed with.
Eve Lumière
"Until I met Eve I thought that my voice was striking. It's not fair. The French have all the best benefits."
"Until I met Eve I thought that my voice was striking. It's not fair. The French have all the best benefits."
She's a lovely sort and I really can't think of anything bad to say about her. Granted we're not exactly close friends, but when you've been around striking individuals as often as I have...you get a sense for these things. And my sense says she's lovely.
Catharine Reid
"I wonder if event planning is anything at all like a talent agency. I've been looking for a manager for decades, and she seems...fierce."
"I wonder if event planning is anything at all like a talent agency. I've been looking for a manager for decades, and she seems...fierce."
For someone so short the few times I've seen her she's looked like someone carrying a giant chip on her shoulder. I don't know why or what or even where...only that I hope someone takes her by the hand and tells her that everything is fine.
Opallum
"I've seen him around outside the flat and I always wonder if I should spare a few pounds."
"I've seen him around outside the flat and I always wonder if I should spare a few pounds."
I don't have the courage to ask him if he's got a substance problem and that's kind of a rude thing to ask anyway. He seems interesting, in the sense that he's not just another grungy British youth.
Andrew Mordekai
"His cause is noble. I'm not so sure he is."
"His cause is noble. I'm not so sure he is."
People like Andrew tire me out. I always suspect the loudest voices in the protest to be the least honest ones, but that's probably because I've been to far too many in my life.
Suriel White
"I'm jealous because Suriel looks better in a suit than I do."
"I'm jealous because Suriel looks better in a suit than I do."
I don't know what neurosurgery is but I do know that Suriel is probably really, really good at bedside manner. It's all in the eyes.
Miles Catrose
"He's the cutest thing. The cutest. And if he heard that he'd probably hate me."
"He's the cutest thing. The cutest. And if he heard that he'd probably hate me."
I'd never let him touch my hair. He's like a cute little dog, except he also is the type of dog that would bite you and not let go. So I don't want him plus a pair of scissors anywhere near me.
Yukiko Abe
"She works with John and he's a good judge of character, so she's fine with me. Another artist. I like artists."
"She works with John and he's a good judge of character, so she's fine with me. Another artist. I like artists."
I don't know why she hasn't settled down with someone. I'm a fan of romance and it just sort of seems, to me anyway, that she's someone that would've been swept off her feet before now. Maybe I should have her and John meet...but then they work together so if it was going to happen it would've by now. I'm projecting.
Mona
"It's at the Louvre and has been since the late 1700s."
"It's at the Louvre and has been since the late 1700s."
Wait this isn't about the Mona Lisa?
Faron Romane
"He seems like a good kid but I can't say I've seen him anywhere other than in passing."
"He seems like a good kid but I can't say I've seen him anywhere other than in passing."
The biggest takeaway was that he was really tall and that made me feel...not short but...I don't know...small.
Nicolas Black
"I know enough to not want to make him angry, even if the idea of an angry handsome sort has all sorts of wonderful connotations to it."
"I know enough to not want to make him angry, even if the idea of an angry handsome sort has all sorts of wonderful connotations to it."
I have a long standing bet with a friend. My money is on he and Nikita using various rooms of the station for their own highly steamy hook ups. Or maybe that was in a trashy book I skimmed. Nice to think about, though, right?
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"She reminds me of a young me, in that I remember a time when I cared about nature too."
"She reminds me of a young me, in that I remember a time when I cared about nature too."
She seems to keep to herself which is fine by me. I worry that she's not going to get the true university experience and make a lot of mistakes in the name of experimentation, but she's at that age. Or at least looks like it, hard to tell. No qualms. Would be surprised to see her in a bar.
Megumi
"On principle the only kid I want to know is my own. If I ever get such a gift."
"On principle the only kid I want to know is my own. If I ever get such a gift."
I really have nothing on her. She's too young to even enter the thoughts that go through my head.
Katharine Haynes
"How many baristas are in this town. I'm not sure who Katharine is. Is she the event planner?"
"How many baristas are in this town. I'm not sure who Katharine is. Is she the event planner?"
I'm not much for coffee so I guess I don't have anything. Sorry.
Felix Underwood
"I've sort of just put her together with that Maggie girl and the grungy girl in the boots."
"I've sort of just put her together with that Maggie girl and the grungy girl in the boots."
Those three sort of pool together in my mind, in the sense that I'm always thinking that they're hooking up. A quiet girl like Maggie and what a librarian? That's like feta cheese on a salad levels of perfect.
Elise Callaghan
"Someone I'd very much like to meet on a professional level. At first, anyway."
"Someone I'd very much like to meet on a professional level. At first, anyway."
A fellow musician and a violinist at that. I don't know if she'd ever be up for a collaboration but my door is always open.
Claire O'Malley
"I don't trust anyone that is a Manchester United fan."
"I don't trust anyone that is a Manchester United fan."
I've made myself clear.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"I don't know any Barachiel. I know an Alexander but I don't think it's the same person. Sorry, I don't know half the people I'd like to."
"I don't know any Barachiel. I know an Alexander but I don't think it's the same person. Sorry, I don't know half the people I'd like to."
He's got a unique name. I wonder if Suriel knows him. Kinda similar names. Maybe they're related. Or having a fling. Hoping for the latter.
Ethan Cooper
"Sorry, not ringing any bells. I don't really make my way to universities unless they pay me."
"Sorry, not ringing any bells. I don't really make my way to universities unless they pay me."
I'm sure he's a lovely sort.
Alfie Liau
"I'd give him more business but chocolates and I have had a falling out."
"I'd give him more business but chocolates and I have had a falling out."
My reasons are shallow, but I've pictured him and that cute hair stylist together since the day I made the mistake and thought they were the same person. Sometimes all it takes to make a connection is a similar style.
Astrid Kitchener
"I like the bistro she works at. They do a good, crisp salad. Haven't really gotten a lot of words out of her, but she's unique enough that I can put the name to a face."
"I like the bistro she works at. They do a good, crisp salad. Haven't really gotten a lot of words out of her, but she's unique enough that I can put the name to a face."
My heart goes out to the young people that do thankless jobs for cash they desperately need. I hope she's enjoyed the tips.
Michael Harel
"Nice to look at, but he'd be more so if he put more effort into his clothing style. If I'm talking about appearances it's because it's all I've got."
"Nice to look at, but he'd be more so if he put more effort into his clothing style. If I'm talking about appearances it's because it's all I've got."
Whenever I find myself at his record store it's specifically to shop. My interactions with him have been of the 'here's some money for this Ella Fitzgerald record that I now own seven copies of'.
Aila Atleo
"I've seen her around, sometimes just in passing...mostly so...and every time I have to ask myself if I should start working out more. Or at all. To be young and fit. Use whatever definition of fit you'd like."
"I've seen her around, sometimes just in passing...mostly so...and every time I have to ask myself if I should start working out more. Or at all. To be young and fit. Use whatever definition of fit you'd like."
She works down at the station, right? I'm waiting for the day I see her out with Nikita or Nicolas so that I can add another face to my list of 'people that should be hooking up with each other'.
Stefani Roche
"Also works with John, so I bet he's elated to have those coworkers. Or not, she seems kinda young. But she definitely uses that youth to her advantage, or if she isn't then she really should."
"Also works with John, so I bet he's elated to have those coworkers. Or not, she seems kinda young. But she definitely uses that youth to her advantage, or if she isn't then she really should."
I'm not sure if we have anything in common but she seems, and I don't use this word lightly, cool. As cool as the young people can be, anyway. The friend of my friend is also my friend to be.
Apokalipse AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Banned
Seen
4 mos ago
| N A M E |
Nikita "Nikki" Irene Yankovsky
| D A T E O F B I R T H |
September 22, 1994
| G E N D E R |
Female
| S E X U A L I T Y |
Pansexual
| O C C U P A T I O N |
Police Officer specializing in undercover investigations
Ex-Adult Film Actress (18-21)
Ex-Adult Film Actress (18-21)
| I N - D E P T H A P P E A R A N CE |
Being a succubus didn’t exactly guarantee Nikita any particular beauty. Though she definitely is beautiful, it’s her style and swagger as well as her oozing confidence that give her the allure rather than her appearance. Matter of fact, if she were stripped of all that, men wouldn’t look at her twice. Because Nikita didn’t possess the luscious lips that her mother did, or the beautifully flouncing hair that men seemed to adore, and her eye color wasn’t particularly exotic. Rather, Nikita had a plain appearance – not too thick, not too thin lips that were often cracked and bare; greasy brown hair that wasn’t exactly curly, but the thickness was tangled and snagged that it gave it a certain amount of volume and it seemed so bedraggled and messy; her eyes were a hazel-green that only looked green up close, and regular brown from a distance. Her body isn’t particularly overwhelming – she’s short at 5’4” and has thick, strong legs and a nice curve to her waist; however, her cleavage isn’t the most impressive and her badonka is of normal size.
Her makeup is of the grunge sort, as is her clothes, with heavy eye makeup and practically no lip makeup done. She prefers dark clothes and bared legs with her top is not usually particularly revealing, however it’s not rare for her to don something risqué every once and awhile. Her shoes are either perfectly shiny boots or ragged sneakers, but high heels and expensive brand names are never seen on her feet. Nikita never puts much thought into her appearance – unless it’s a jacket. Nikita is very picky and particular with her jackets; they are always kept in perfect condition and are very stylish. Her hoodies do not have a single stain on them and her leather jackets have never been worn cracked.
Nikita’s voice is rather husky and low with a cockney accent; it often sounds gritty and raspy due to her sometimes going days without speaking. Being a succubus, Nikita doesn’t really have a demon form – there seems to be no point considering that her kind was explicitly made to seduce humans. However, whenever she’s sucking out someone’s sexual energy, her eyes tend to turn a vivid amber color. When Nikita walks, she exudes arrogance with her slouched swaggering way of walking and confident but not overboard sway of her hips. People may think she has a rather alluring smell, though no one can pinpoint exactly what it is. Nikita has a few scars on her back from BDSM gone wrong, but they’re rather small and on the corner of her shoulder. She’s covered them with a stereotypical tattoo of flying silhouettes of birds.
Her makeup is of the grunge sort, as is her clothes, with heavy eye makeup and practically no lip makeup done. She prefers dark clothes and bared legs with her top is not usually particularly revealing, however it’s not rare for her to don something risqué every once and awhile. Her shoes are either perfectly shiny boots or ragged sneakers, but high heels and expensive brand names are never seen on her feet. Nikita never puts much thought into her appearance – unless it’s a jacket. Nikita is very picky and particular with her jackets; they are always kept in perfect condition and are very stylish. Her hoodies do not have a single stain on them and her leather jackets have never been worn cracked.
Nikita’s voice is rather husky and low with a cockney accent; it often sounds gritty and raspy due to her sometimes going days without speaking. Being a succubus, Nikita doesn’t really have a demon form – there seems to be no point considering that her kind was explicitly made to seduce humans. However, whenever she’s sucking out someone’s sexual energy, her eyes tend to turn a vivid amber color. When Nikita walks, she exudes arrogance with her slouched swaggering way of walking and confident but not overboard sway of her hips. People may think she has a rather alluring smell, though no one can pinpoint exactly what it is. Nikita has a few scars on her back from BDSM gone wrong, but they’re rather small and on the corner of her shoulder. She’s covered them with a stereotypical tattoo of flying silhouettes of birds.
| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
♦ Quiet ♦ Independent ♦ Apathetic ♦ Observant ♦
There is a certain air about Nikita, an aura of carefree attitude and sarcasm that simmers on the front, ready to lash out. Many perceive her as one of those rebels; the kind who obnoxiously shout their opinions and make their thoughts known, the type that are easily provoked and jump at every chance to fight someone. But Nikita was never like that, far from it.
The truth of Nikita is that she’s quiet. She could go days without talking and still be perfectly content. When speaking, her words are decided upon deliberately, and every sentence and coherent thought spoken aloud has a certain amount of thought and weight placed on it. She hides her true feelings and thoughts behind a wall of iron and steel, her emotions imperceptible to those around her unless she specifically elaborates to others – which is a rare occasion in itself. Nikita hates the feeling of being vulnerable; she hates being at the mercy and pity of others, relying on someone else to help her, and perhaps this is why she refuses to divulge her problems when she has them. Instead of asking for help, Nikita would rather die because she couldn’t help herself than have to rely on the kindness of a friend or stranger. Because of her closed off nature, Nikita is a little bit of a loner. Not to say she doesn’t have friends, because Nikita has an abundance of too-loud friends that she drinks, parties, sleeps with on a daily basis but even with them, Nikita is an outsider. She laughs with them and reminisces, but they never ask her questions about her past or present, or how she feels – it’s just as she likes it. When it comes to her friends, they are in a sphere of just them, and everything on the outside doesn’t matter, not their work or failing relationships or mistakes.
Nikita doesn’t like others help, she doesn’t like the burden of owing others and she hates the weight that dependency lies on her shoulders. If she wants something, Nikita is determined to get it herself through her own means. As such, independence is an important aspect of her life and Nikita would rather die than be trapped in a dependent relationship of sorts – whether it’s platonic, romantic, or toxic. Therefore, Nikita has a tendency to hold others at arm length rather than embracing a friendship or relationship, leading to Nikita’s relationships with family, friends, and significant others being rather difficult and ultimately failing.
As a general rule of thumb, if you want to assume something about Nikita, assume she doesn’t care. Nikita finds it hard to care about anything and finds generally everything pointless. Her apathetic carelessness often leads to her hurting others, making mistakes, and pissing everybody off. When Nikita became a cop, she didn’t become a cop in order to protect others, but rather it was a steady source of income and she was good at it. She tends to not pay much mind to things that don’t directly involve her and in moments in which bad things do happen to her, Nikita simply shrugs it off.
Being a rather quiet person who tends to keep to herself as well as an undercover cop, Nikita has become really good at reading others’ body language. This, of course, does not mean she knows exactly what other people are thinking – that’s impossible – but Nikita is rather good at picking up social queues and picking up when others aren’t acting like themselves or are being suspicious. Furthermore, Nikita has a lot of patience and is willing to wait for others to come to her when they want to talk rather than force it out of them. She prefers subtlety that way, and keeps secrets rather well, though most of the time she does so out of the pretense that it is none of her goddamn business rather than because she cares or feels obligated to.
The truth of Nikita is that she’s quiet. She could go days without talking and still be perfectly content. When speaking, her words are decided upon deliberately, and every sentence and coherent thought spoken aloud has a certain amount of thought and weight placed on it. She hides her true feelings and thoughts behind a wall of iron and steel, her emotions imperceptible to those around her unless she specifically elaborates to others – which is a rare occasion in itself. Nikita hates the feeling of being vulnerable; she hates being at the mercy and pity of others, relying on someone else to help her, and perhaps this is why she refuses to divulge her problems when she has them. Instead of asking for help, Nikita would rather die because she couldn’t help herself than have to rely on the kindness of a friend or stranger. Because of her closed off nature, Nikita is a little bit of a loner. Not to say she doesn’t have friends, because Nikita has an abundance of too-loud friends that she drinks, parties, sleeps with on a daily basis but even with them, Nikita is an outsider. She laughs with them and reminisces, but they never ask her questions about her past or present, or how she feels – it’s just as she likes it. When it comes to her friends, they are in a sphere of just them, and everything on the outside doesn’t matter, not their work or failing relationships or mistakes.
Nikita doesn’t like others help, she doesn’t like the burden of owing others and she hates the weight that dependency lies on her shoulders. If she wants something, Nikita is determined to get it herself through her own means. As such, independence is an important aspect of her life and Nikita would rather die than be trapped in a dependent relationship of sorts – whether it’s platonic, romantic, or toxic. Therefore, Nikita has a tendency to hold others at arm length rather than embracing a friendship or relationship, leading to Nikita’s relationships with family, friends, and significant others being rather difficult and ultimately failing.
As a general rule of thumb, if you want to assume something about Nikita, assume she doesn’t care. Nikita finds it hard to care about anything and finds generally everything pointless. Her apathetic carelessness often leads to her hurting others, making mistakes, and pissing everybody off. When Nikita became a cop, she didn’t become a cop in order to protect others, but rather it was a steady source of income and she was good at it. She tends to not pay much mind to things that don’t directly involve her and in moments in which bad things do happen to her, Nikita simply shrugs it off.
Being a rather quiet person who tends to keep to herself as well as an undercover cop, Nikita has become really good at reading others’ body language. This, of course, does not mean she knows exactly what other people are thinking – that’s impossible – but Nikita is rather good at picking up social queues and picking up when others aren’t acting like themselves or are being suspicious. Furthermore, Nikita has a lot of patience and is willing to wait for others to come to her when they want to talk rather than force it out of them. She prefers subtlety that way, and keeps secrets rather well, though most of the time she does so out of the pretense that it is none of her goddamn business rather than because she cares or feels obligated to.
| L I K E S & D I S L I K E S |
✔Vanilla Ice Cream w/ Soy Sauce
✔Phone App Games (especially Angry Birds)
✔Incense
✔Strawberry Smoothies
✔Bad Movies/Parody Movies (Sharknado is currently her favorite)
✔Cat Videos on YouTube
✔Wet Weather
✘Green Food
✘Moths
✘Pretentiousness
✘Feather Pillows
✘Hot Weather
✘Day Drinkers
✘Unfashionable Jackets
✔Phone App Games (especially Angry Birds)
✔Incense
✔Strawberry Smoothies
✔Bad Movies/Parody Movies (Sharknado is currently her favorite)
✔Cat Videos on YouTube
✔Wet Weather
✘Green Food
✘Moths
✘Pretentiousness
✘Feather Pillows
✘Hot Weather
✘Day Drinkers
✘Unfashionable Jackets
| H I S T O R Y |
Unlike most other demons, Nikita doesn’t have to lie about her age – yet. Twenty-six years ago, on September 22, Nikita was born to Valentina Yankovsky. Nikita never knew much about her father; he was a random incubus stranger who was too unimportant to know his name and, apparently, the owner of a bad batch of condoms. Despite not knowing her father, Nikita never really questioned her mother about or let it bother her; family never seemed that important to Nikita. Perhaps it was because of her isolated upbringing, in which Nikita spent her time going to school and coming home to an empty house.
Growing up, Nikita always knew what she was. She understood that, while she could go to school with humans and have a regular job like humans, humans would always be her prey in some way or another. Therefore, Nikita never bothered envying humans or wishing she could be normal, instead Nikita focused on what was rather than what could be. In school, instead of having close relationships with her classmates, Nikita spent her time doing homework, reading, and playing videogames. Her life at home was mostly lonely. Valentina loved her daughter, but they were both very secluded, withdrawn people and so they didn’t really bond or speak at all. Around the time when Nikita turned eleven, Valentina decided she could stay at home for long periods of time by herself, and began to leave for months at a time. When Nikita was sixteen, she didn’t see her mother for a whole year.
Nikita never experienced a real romance, she didn’t have the presence of mind to even try for a romance. Her first time was in the backseat of a car of a random stranger who just happened to be incredibly handsome and vulnerable. That was as romantic as Nikita got. When she became legal, Nikita entered the adult film business in order to pay for university. At university, Nikita studied political science and, well, had a lot of sex if we’re being completely honest – like a lot.
However, when Nikita was twenty-one, she got a call from a stranger claiming to be her long lost twin sister, named Nadia. Apparently, Nadia became aware of her through her adult films that her boyfriend seemed to like. Unfortunately, Nadia did not know of her succubus nature in which Nikita had to break it to her, which was an affair in itself. The idea of having a family member she didn’t know anything about pissed Nikita off and she confronted her mother, Valentina about it. Valentina shared that, when she found out she was pregnant with twins, she decided that two kids was too much for her, as simple as that. Valentina gave up Nadia for adoption and that was that – thoughts of her second (and oldest) child left her mind. With the truth known, Nikita set up a meeting between Valentina and Nadia which didn’t end up well (especially with Nadia being overly affectionate and warm and the Yankovsky duo being rather cold and impersonal).
Having met Valentina, Nadia decided to introduce Nikita to her adoptive parents, who were rich business owners that were not too happy with a doppelganger appearing naked on the internet with her daughter’s face. Nadia’s parents blackmailed Nikita to quit the porn industry and, without the money to pay for her university, Nikita dropped out. With no further education than her basic High School Diploma, Nikita decided that a job in law enforcement was really the only way to go. She moved off campus and into Edgetoun as well as entered training school to become a police officer. The training period went by quickly and Nikita’s (albeit lacking) acting skills made her a good option for an undercover cop.
Nothing much happened during this time period, Nikita pretty much ignored Nadia’s existence, except for the occasional coffee if Nikita felt particularly guilty that day, and Valentina was somewhere off in Asia, probably making more family members that Nikita did not want to have. However, with the arrival of knowledge that the human community attained, Nikita didn’t know quite what to do with herself. In the beginning, she had felt like panicking, but instead quelled it and pushed it down, pretending the problem didn’t exist. The following week, Nikita went to work and move about, pretending as if nothing was happening. Still is, though anxiety is quietly creeping up her spine.
Growing up, Nikita always knew what she was. She understood that, while she could go to school with humans and have a regular job like humans, humans would always be her prey in some way or another. Therefore, Nikita never bothered envying humans or wishing she could be normal, instead Nikita focused on what was rather than what could be. In school, instead of having close relationships with her classmates, Nikita spent her time doing homework, reading, and playing videogames. Her life at home was mostly lonely. Valentina loved her daughter, but they were both very secluded, withdrawn people and so they didn’t really bond or speak at all. Around the time when Nikita turned eleven, Valentina decided she could stay at home for long periods of time by herself, and began to leave for months at a time. When Nikita was sixteen, she didn’t see her mother for a whole year.
Nikita never experienced a real romance, she didn’t have the presence of mind to even try for a romance. Her first time was in the backseat of a car of a random stranger who just happened to be incredibly handsome and vulnerable. That was as romantic as Nikita got. When she became legal, Nikita entered the adult film business in order to pay for university. At university, Nikita studied political science and, well, had a lot of sex if we’re being completely honest – like a lot.
However, when Nikita was twenty-one, she got a call from a stranger claiming to be her long lost twin sister, named Nadia. Apparently, Nadia became aware of her through her adult films that her boyfriend seemed to like. Unfortunately, Nadia did not know of her succubus nature in which Nikita had to break it to her, which was an affair in itself. The idea of having a family member she didn’t know anything about pissed Nikita off and she confronted her mother, Valentina about it. Valentina shared that, when she found out she was pregnant with twins, she decided that two kids was too much for her, as simple as that. Valentina gave up Nadia for adoption and that was that – thoughts of her second (and oldest) child left her mind. With the truth known, Nikita set up a meeting between Valentina and Nadia which didn’t end up well (especially with Nadia being overly affectionate and warm and the Yankovsky duo being rather cold and impersonal).
Having met Valentina, Nadia decided to introduce Nikita to her adoptive parents, who were rich business owners that were not too happy with a doppelganger appearing naked on the internet with her daughter’s face. Nadia’s parents blackmailed Nikita to quit the porn industry and, without the money to pay for her university, Nikita dropped out. With no further education than her basic High School Diploma, Nikita decided that a job in law enforcement was really the only way to go. She moved off campus and into Edgetoun as well as entered training school to become a police officer. The training period went by quickly and Nikita’s (albeit lacking) acting skills made her a good option for an undercover cop.
Nothing much happened during this time period, Nikita pretty much ignored Nadia’s existence, except for the occasional coffee if Nikita felt particularly guilty that day, and Valentina was somewhere off in Asia, probably making more family members that Nikita did not want to have. However, with the arrival of knowledge that the human community attained, Nikita didn’t know quite what to do with herself. In the beginning, she had felt like panicking, but instead quelled it and pushed it down, pretending the problem didn’t exist. The following week, Nikita went to work and move about, pretending as if nothing was happening. Still is, though anxiety is quietly creeping up her spine.
| F A M I L Y |
||Nadia Ackermann | 26 | Twin Sister|| - Nikita's long lost twin sister. Nadia found it odd when she saw her face in her then-boyfriend's newly bought adult film. After a little bit of digging, they made contact. While Nadia adores Nikita and wants to get closer to her, Nikita mostly ignores her sister's presence with the occasional birthday card a few days late. Nikita thinks of Nadia as a little bit of a dumb bimbo, with her dyed blonde hair and her love for acronyms, but Nadia is intelligent in her own way.
||Valentina Yankovsky | Unknown | Mother|| - Nikita's succubus mother. Nikita was raised by her mother, though they had a strained relationship. It's not so because they were different or that they didn't like each other, but mostly because they were both very private people and would not often share personal things with each other. When Nikita was in her tweens, Valentina saw her fit to become independent and would often leave for months at a time - even for a whole year, once. Nikita never blamed or held it over her mother's head, because she understood Valentina's need for adventure and for a life on the edge. However, with the news of a twin sister she never heard of, their relationship has been tenser than usual.
||Valentina Yankovsky | Unknown | Mother|| - Nikita's succubus mother. Nikita was raised by her mother, though they had a strained relationship. It's not so because they were different or that they didn't like each other, but mostly because they were both very private people and would not often share personal things with each other. When Nikita was in her tweens, Valentina saw her fit to become independent and would often leave for months at a time - even for a whole year, once. Nikita never blamed or held it over her mother's head, because she understood Valentina's need for adventure and for a life on the edge. However, with the news of a twin sister she never heard of, their relationship has been tenser than usual.
| S T R E N G T H S |
- Observant
- Seductive
- Patient
| W E A K N E S S E S |
- Apathetic
- Withdrawn
- Sex-Driven
| T H E M E S O N G |
Hurricane – Halsey
"I'm a wanderess
I'm a one night stand
Don't belong to no city
Don't belong to no man
I'm the violence in the pouring rain
I'm a hurricane”
"I'm a wanderess
I'm a one night stand
Don't belong to no city
Don't belong to no man
I'm the violence in the pouring rain
I'm a hurricane”
| H O U S E N U M B E R |
Faircourt - 5361 Spruce Avenue
| E X T R A I N F O R M A T I O N |
- Bilingual (Russian and English)
Mordred
Demon | Mammon | Greed
Demon | Mammon | Greed
Basic Information
| Name |
Mordred Hame
| Date of Birth |
His Wikipedia Page says December 21, 1990
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Pansexual
| Occupation |
Musician
| In-Depth Appearance |
Six feet tall but barely a hundred and twenty pounds, Mordred prefers to keep on the waifish side(though his demonic strength ensures that he is still not to be pushed around). His features are immaculate, as is his platinum hair. Though the former is natural(or unnatural, rather), the latter is bleached and has to be meticulously maintained. His natural hair color is more medium brown. He has steely gray eyes and full lips, which tend to be smiling or grinning. His teeth are a break in his perfection; though reasonably straight, they are stained from his long time smoking habit.
His clothes tend on the expensive side, even when they don't look it, and he usually dresses in layers, to allow for multiple pieces in any given "look." During the day, sunglasses are ever present.
His clothes tend on the expensive side, even when they don't look it, and he usually dresses in layers, to allow for multiple pieces in any given "look." During the day, sunglasses are ever present.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Ambitious ♦ Introspective ♦ Charming ♦ Obnoxious ♦
Two of those may seem opposed, but Mord is the sort of person who can charm even as he annoys; he makes it endearing. He considers himself larger than life, and sometimes even manages to fit that description. A gregarious person by nature, he likes, and tends to be liked by, crowds, particularly those of the drunk variety. He is a people-pleaser, and though this often leads to altruism and even true compassion, the root of that desire is in the quest for attention.
Mordred's attention seeking behavior is anything but small scale. He's a man(or the approximation of one) who wants to get somewhere, but he's gone backwards before and is wary of it happening again. He'll take a risk, but not before calculating it over and over to himself. Though he's a greed demon, money is just a means to an end for him. He wants fame.
Mordred's attention seeking behavior is anything but small scale. He's a man(or the approximation of one) who wants to get somewhere, but he's gone backwards before and is wary of it happening again. He'll take a risk, but not before calculating it over and over to himself. Though he's a greed demon, money is just a means to an end for him. He wants fame.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔People(generally speaking)
✔Colder weather
✔Night Time
✔Smoking
✔Company
✔Nice clothes
✔Cars
✘Intoxication
✘Being alone
✘Sweating in his nice clothes
✘Cats
✘Rain(doesn't mind snow)
✘Waiting for texts
✘Sun glare
✔Colder weather
✔Night Time
✔Smoking
✔Company
✔Nice clothes
✔Cars
✘Intoxication
✘Being alone
✘Sweating in his nice clothes
✘Cats
✘Rain(doesn't mind snow)
✘Waiting for texts
✘Sun glare
| History |
About the time his current birth certificate says he came into this world, Mordred was already a failing musician. His persona of the time was a prototype to the one he displays today, with the major discrepancy of being an open occult advocate. He considers that to have been the thing that sank his career at the time. So he bode his time, until the similarities between that old obscure artist and this new up and comer would seem coincidental at most.
His recent incarnation came to light when he joined the nascent London metal band, Cloak of Shame, replacing the less than spectacular lead singer that had been standing in. With his drive, charisma, and otherworldly talents, Mordred has brought the band a good steady string of gigs to line their pockets and get the word out. Very recently, with the reveal of Others to the world at wide, the supernatural themes of their music have become a source of ambivalence among the public that used to frequent their shows. Some have tried to step away from that sort of music, but they have been more than replaced by new fans who want to satisfy their curiosity for the Other in the "safe" setting of a metal concert. This influx has made Mordred(who passes easily for human) consider openly revealing his nature to the public. At the moment, he considers the risk too great, what with the general fear of his kind and those like it. Still, the guaranteed publicity is sorely tempting to him.
His recent incarnation came to light when he joined the nascent London metal band, Cloak of Shame, replacing the less than spectacular lead singer that had been standing in. With his drive, charisma, and otherworldly talents, Mordred has brought the band a good steady string of gigs to line their pockets and get the word out. Very recently, with the reveal of Others to the world at wide, the supernatural themes of their music have become a source of ambivalence among the public that used to frequent their shows. Some have tried to step away from that sort of music, but they have been more than replaced by new fans who want to satisfy their curiosity for the Other in the "safe" setting of a metal concert. This influx has made Mordred(who passes easily for human) consider openly revealing his nature to the public. At the moment, he considers the risk too great, what with the general fear of his kind and those like it. Still, the guaranteed publicity is sorely tempting to him.
| Family |
None
| Strengths |
- Likable
- Nimble fingers
- Careful
| Weaknesses |
- Dreamer
- Entitled
- High-Maintenance
The Other
| Theme Song |
Me and My Baby - Steam Powered Giraffe
”Is there such a thing
as too much of a good thing
I ask myself that every day.”
”Is there such a thing
as too much of a good thing
I ask myself that every day.”
| House Number |
Not yet decided
Ghost Queen Hi Ho Everyone
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
John Taylor
Wendigo
Wendigo
Basic Information
| Name |
Jonathan Sage Taylor
| Date of Birth |
October 30th, 1993
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Tattoo Artist
| In-Depth Appearance |
Really, really tall. Around six foot six but too thin, almost unhealthily so. John carries himself like an old junker would. Slow, tired, and a little broken. His shoulders sag, he has some heavy bags under his eyes, and he’s always a little slow to react, like there is something preoccupying his mind. His style can be broken down into two categories, work and home. Work clothes consists of various types of t-shirts, dark jeans of various wear and tear, and flannel. Home clothes are sweat pants, gym shorts, and big fluffy sweaters. As a tattoo artist he has some ink, most prominently his sleeves, which are matching deer skulls starting at the mid-bicep. Ink bleeds down the eye sockets and become a writhing mass of solid black tentacles. When John speaks you can hear that his voice is a little ragged, mostly from alcohol but bad sleeping habits are also a contributing factor. One will notice that he seems to carry the smell of cigarettes with him wherever he goes.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Grounded ♦ Friendly ♦ Tired ♦ Sad ♦
Let’s start with the good aye? John is not a very difficult man to figure out, minus the whole teeter totter of cannibalistic rampage and normal human being that is. John isn’t one to flaunt anything and prefers to stick to the modest things in life; money stays in the bank account, clothes are simple and cheap, car is a piece of shit but can get him to point A to B. The only exceptions to this level headedness is his love for pork and his passion for art, specifically body ink but he can and does appreciate other mediums. It’s usually a shock to the people who know him to see the normally docile John explode when he sees that “metaphorical art shit” like the blank white wall.
Now let’s get into the not so great bits. For all his “straight man” mannerisms and usually docile dependency, John is a very tired, very worn down person. Fighting off constant cannibalistic cravings, an intense hunger, and an angry, spiteful spirit living in the back of his head has left John with very little energy to deal with other people’s shit. So instead of fighting or arguing he would rather just take it and move on, “What’s one more pebble for the pile?” As he would say. This take it and roll attitude paints him in an unflattering light, with many people dismissing him as a pushover. Unfortunately, all his wear and tear has also given him very little patience for those who are rude and mean, usually met with a very stern “Fuck. Off.” and a death glare that could put fear into the devil himself.
In the end, John just wants everything to be nice and quiet. With how everything is going however, it doesn’t look like things are going to go his way again.
Now let’s get into the not so great bits. For all his “straight man” mannerisms and usually docile dependency, John is a very tired, very worn down person. Fighting off constant cannibalistic cravings, an intense hunger, and an angry, spiteful spirit living in the back of his head has left John with very little energy to deal with other people’s shit. So instead of fighting or arguing he would rather just take it and move on, “What’s one more pebble for the pile?” As he would say. This take it and roll attitude paints him in an unflattering light, with many people dismissing him as a pushover. Unfortunately, all his wear and tear has also given him very little patience for those who are rude and mean, usually met with a very stern “Fuck. Off.” and a death glare that could put fear into the devil himself.
In the end, John just wants everything to be nice and quiet. With how everything is going however, it doesn’t look like things are going to go his way again.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ His art
✔ Big puffy sweaters
✔ Sweets; chocolates, anything out of a bakery, candies, the works
✔ His two poisons, whiskey and menthols
✔ Stupid jokes/puns
✔ Pork, in all it’s forms
✔ Low maintenance, in both people and in life
✘ Horror movies, doesn’t like being scared and the gorier ones make him hungry
✘ Bad tattoo’s
✘ People who disrespect art and artists
✘ Romantic comedies
✘ Surprises
✘ High class anything; the people are jerks, the drinks are weak, and the food is small
✘ Vegetables, they are just gross
✔ Big puffy sweaters
✔ Sweets; chocolates, anything out of a bakery, candies, the works
✔ His two poisons, whiskey and menthols
✔ Stupid jokes/puns
✔ Pork, in all it’s forms
✔ Low maintenance, in both people and in life
✘ Horror movies, doesn’t like being scared and the gorier ones make him hungry
✘ Bad tattoo’s
✘ People who disrespect art and artists
✘ Romantic comedies
✘ Surprises
✘ High class anything; the people are jerks, the drinks are weak, and the food is small
✘ Vegetables, they are just gross
| History |
John’s story isn’t a very interesting one up until he got possessed, so we’ll start from there. It began with a camping trip five years ago, just him and a friend in the canadian wilderness. Everything began all right, sure it was cold but the two of them had seen worse and so the pair just did their thing. Star gazing, ice fishing, hiking, and all that jazz was done before it happened. The pair were hunkering down on an especially cold night when John became possessed.
I’m going to spare the details but when John awoke from the spiritual fight for dominance that ensued in his head, the friend was dead. The poor hunk of a bastard was ripped apart and the last thing that went through his head was that it was his best friend doing the deed. John doesn’t camp anymore.
The incident was called an “animal attack” but John knew, and he couldn’t live with himself. So he so he packed a bag, sold everything else, and left. The process of becoming a British citizen wasn’t the most streamlined but after it was all said and done, he could start again. So here he has been, picking up small time jobs and building up his reputation within his industry before finding himself here, in the middle of a god damn upheaval. Can’t a man get a break indeed.
I’m going to spare the details but when John awoke from the spiritual fight for dominance that ensued in his head, the friend was dead. The poor hunk of a bastard was ripped apart and the last thing that went through his head was that it was his best friend doing the deed. John doesn’t camp anymore.
The incident was called an “animal attack” but John knew, and he couldn’t live with himself. So he so he packed a bag, sold everything else, and left. The process of becoming a British citizen wasn’t the most streamlined but after it was all said and done, he could start again. So here he has been, picking up small time jobs and building up his reputation within his industry before finding himself here, in the middle of a god damn upheaval. Can’t a man get a break indeed.
| Family |
Severed all ties with his family. For all they know he just up and left one day.
| Strengths |
- Willpower
- Transparency
- Honesty
| Weaknesses |
- A bit of a doormat
- Exhausted, physically and emotionally
- Very little patience for jerks
The Other
| Theme Song |
We are born again when we die – Apollo Sunshine
”Why say goodbye?
We are born again when we died, but
We will never leave our lives.”
”Why say goodbye?
We are born again when we died, but
We will never leave our lives.”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights, 28A
| Extra Information |
-Has a moderate reputation within the tattoo industry, enough to be recognized but nothing huge.
Can rap fairly well... as long as they are songs from the late eighties/early nineties
-Is a master comfort food cook.
Can rap fairly well... as long as they are songs from the late eighties/early nineties
-Is a master comfort food cook.
John Taylor
Blake Preston
"Blake? She's a little too much for me, but she's got a good heart."
Opposites do not particularly attract here. She's just too....free. With her, nothing is in reserve and that breeds a little resentment in John who has to always keep himself in check. Plus she's human....yeah. In the end, John just tries to keep a distance for both their sakes.
Daniel Belson
"Dan is all right once you find the hay in the needle stack. He drinks well enough and doesn't pry too much, he's cool in my book."
Dan is old, that much is known. He carries a sadness with him, hidden well enough but still there if you look deep enough. He hasn't done me wrong so I'll return the favor.
Alistair Queen
"Al? You mean the Landlord, uh...he's alright I guess. Keeps the apartment running and doesn't push me around like some others I've been under."
Haven't seen the guy all that much myself, higher up on the socioeconomic totem pole than me. Not human, smells too dusty for that, but since he's the reason this apartment runs I can't say anything bad. Time will tell if he has any skeletons in his closet.
Mariska Costas
"Mariska's medium is song, mine is skin. We're both in it for the love, fame and dollars are secondary."
She's my friend, the first meaningful one I've made since moving here. She's got my back and I hers, her being here has made everything a little more bearable.
Nikita Yankovsky
"Officer Yankovsky? She's alright for a cop. Seen her slam em back like the best of us so she at least has my respect in that department."
There isn't much for me to say, she has gotten on my ass for drinking in the day but she doesn't have my problem so whatever. We keep to ourselves and that's good enough for us.
Mordred Hame
"Mord? The guy is an artist, but not like me. He's got an ambition in his heart, and I wish him the best as he climbs that ladder."
It was a little tense between us at first, clashing personalities and all that jazz. But one adjustment period and several cigarettes later we've gotten on the same level.
Eve Lumière
"Eve? She's good for a drink but we don't mix all that well, too much oil for my blood."
She's alright but she has a wicked streak hidden in all that energy. Never given her a reason to pin it on me and I'll like it to stay that way.
Catharine Reid
"You talking about the little Iron Lady? Heh, she's a firecracker that one."
A bonfire to my candle, Cara is definitely someone I do not want to cross. More for my sanity than anything else. I'm sure she's a vamp, which doesn't bother me all that much but I'd prefer she kept her "wine" sealed in flask or something.
Opallum
"He's cool."
Nothing too much to say about him, he's definitely more than a bum but I don't pry too much. I've shared some drinks with him but besides being an occasional drinking buddy we aren't all that close.
Andrew Mordekai
"He's a fiery kid, only hope he doesn't get himself hurt."
Definitely a Witch but still human so he gets the same treatment from me, it's nothing personal I'd just prefer to keep Wendigo as quiet as possible.
Suriel White
"......"
I haven't even formally met her.
Miles Catrose
"Hmph."
He's a dick.
Yukiko Abe
"She does good work, It's actually nice to have someone to talk shop with around here."
She's old, probably the oldest person I've ever met. But she works the craft and keeps her nose clean. We don't have anything to hate over.
Mona
"I don't have much to say about her, she kinda just... blends into the background."
She doesn't fit all that well with me, she seems a little fake. Not all the time, but she just doesn't seem to be telling the truth all the time. Ah, I could just be paranoid.
Faron Romane
"He's a good kid, gave me a good luck charm or something once. Wish he took more care of himself honestly, hate to see him burn himself out."
I like him, he's one of those Mother Teresa types. I'm sure he'll do great things one day.
Nicolas Black
"Officer Black keeps to himself, which is fine for me."
The guy has seen some shit, I can empathize. It's up to him how he lives it out, if he want's to build a fortress around himself then that's his business.
Margaret Spencer-Adeyemi
"Maggie keeps to herself, which works for me."
The times I've met her have gone well enough, she just seems to prefer her flat. Works for me, being edible and all.
Megumi
"A little girl? Haven't seen one around here lately."
Haven't seen this girl around here, hope she's ok.
Katherine Haynes
"Haven't seen too much of her, apparently she's quite the busy body."
From what I've seen she's a nice girl, sure of hersel and all that. It's better off we haven't seen all that much of each other.
Felicia Miles Underwood
Elise Callaghan
"Don't know much about her, but I've seen some of the things she does around here. She's good in my book."
I appreciate what she does for the people around here, she definitely ranks highly on my list of people I like.
Write Currently Writing
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Eve Lumière.
Demon | Asmodeus | Lust
Demon | Asmodeus | Lust
Basic Information
| Name |
Evelyn De Les Beauchamp et Lumière - Eve
| Date of Birth |
1923
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Is a Lust demon
| Occupation |
Eve tends bar.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Listening to Eve’s voice triggers similar in one’s mind to sitting in a warm bath after a long day sipping on expensive wine that you didn’t have to buy. It is alluring, relaxing and most of all French. She carries a confident posture, often leaning in towards others or making prolonged eye contact. She tends to arch her back when she walks as instructed by her mother and most feminine figures in her life. She has learned to perform small things that make people like her, laugh at their jokes, touch their leg, give in to their poor sense of humour, even complimenting them on their forced fashion. It’s one of the reasons he is such a talented bartender.
Eve typically wears a nice clothing, whether that be designer or otherwise. She can be seen typically lounging in a dress shirt and either shorts or her underwear and likes to wear a nice sundress when going on walks. To work she’ll typically wear a tanktop and a pair of jeans and if she is going out somewhere nice it’s a little black dress. Though she has been seen in a leather jacket from time to time it’s irregularly worn at best.
Eve some scars and notable markings. Firstly she has some deep scaring on the small of her back from an incident in which she attempted to raise herself higher in stature among another demon. It didn’t work out. She also has very light scars covering random portions of her body from rather extraneous nights in which she managed to live up to her livelihood as a demon.
Eve typically wears her hair down, though she has been known to sloppily place it into a messy bun when she is bored, nervous or anxious – it’s a form of fidgeting, though it is much more likely to be the former.
Eve typically wears a nice clothing, whether that be designer or otherwise. She can be seen typically lounging in a dress shirt and either shorts or her underwear and likes to wear a nice sundress when going on walks. To work she’ll typically wear a tanktop and a pair of jeans and if she is going out somewhere nice it’s a little black dress. Though she has been seen in a leather jacket from time to time it’s irregularly worn at best.
Eve some scars and notable markings. Firstly she has some deep scaring on the small of her back from an incident in which she attempted to raise herself higher in stature among another demon. It didn’t work out. She also has very light scars covering random portions of her body from rather extraneous nights in which she managed to live up to her livelihood as a demon.
Eve typically wears her hair down, though she has been known to sloppily place it into a messy bun when she is bored, nervous or anxious – it’s a form of fidgeting, though it is much more likely to be the former.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Confident ♦ Opinionated ♦ Aggressive ♦ Laid Back ♦
At her worst, Eve is an aggressive, slightly sociopathic alcoholic. At her best, she’s rather laid back confident in herself and rather accepting of others. As a Asmodeus demon Eve has found herself attracted to most people. Because of this she consistently finds herself looking at the best parts in others. However, when turned away, denied or persecuted by her peers she finds herself much more emotional than one typically would be, personally offended without a doubt. One thing eve is notable for is having a hard time keeping committed in a relationship. As a lust demon Eve has a certain amount of satiation she attempts to find in her life, because of this she is consistently unsatisfied. However the idea of a lust demon simply lusting after sex is a stereotype older than the old Demon’s themselves – as such simply being adventurous and drinking does seem to satisfy her lust to an extent. This is how she attempts to balance herself.
Eve – while easily offended is incredibly laid back until she becomes so. She doesn’t care about rescheduling, and when someone is being honest with her she is happy to oblige them. She has been regarded by other demons as uncomfortably nice, which she takes as a compliment most of the time. However, among other demons Eve finds herself without as much of a filter as she usually keeps up around others. As a much younger demon than some, Eve is regularly finding herself attempting to go at her own pace – very wary of the idea that she could blow herself over at any moment attempting to catch up with other demons.
Eve finds herself most attracted to those who are confident in their own skin. However, Eve tends to mind the line between confident and cocky although she crosses that line daily. She looks for those who show her something new, something different. When she was travelling in Canada in her earlier life as a demon she met a wide variety of people and made them close friends, as such she isn't typically impressed by bravado and pick up lines. For a lust demon - Eve shows a rather incredibly amount of restraint in almost all things. However, she is quite susceptible to temptation due to who/what she is.
Eve – while easily offended is incredibly laid back until she becomes so. She doesn’t care about rescheduling, and when someone is being honest with her she is happy to oblige them. She has been regarded by other demons as uncomfortably nice, which she takes as a compliment most of the time. However, among other demons Eve finds herself without as much of a filter as she usually keeps up around others. As a much younger demon than some, Eve is regularly finding herself attempting to go at her own pace – very wary of the idea that she could blow herself over at any moment attempting to catch up with other demons.
Eve finds herself most attracted to those who are confident in their own skin. However, Eve tends to mind the line between confident and cocky although she crosses that line daily. She looks for those who show her something new, something different. When she was travelling in Canada in her earlier life as a demon she met a wide variety of people and made them close friends, as such she isn't typically impressed by bravado and pick up lines. For a lust demon - Eve shows a rather incredibly amount of restraint in almost all things. However, she is quite susceptible to temptation due to who/what she is.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ French anything (even fries!)
✔ Romance – when done correctly
✔ Spicy foods
✔ Dramatic films
✔ Any show of real talent
✔ Attractive people
✔ Confident people
✔ Funny people
✔ People
✔ Birds
✘Fakeness
✘Lies
✘Bland food
✘Bad Jokes
✘Puns (with the fury of 10000 suns)
✘Films with poor writing/plot
✘Country music
✔ Romance – when done correctly
✔ Spicy foods
✔ Dramatic films
✔ Any show of real talent
✔ Attractive people
✔ Confident people
✔ Funny people
✔ People
✔ Birds
✘Fakeness
✘Lies
✘Bland food
✘Bad Jokes
✘Puns (with the fury of 10000 suns)
✘Films with poor writing/plot
✘Country music
| History |
Until the age end of World War 2 Eve believed she was born to a rather modest family in Marseilles, France. She had three sisters and two brothers, they were a family. Her father - somewhat ironically a father at their church, her mother a housewife and an artist. While their family was raised in somewhat less than reasonable conditions, Even affectionately remembered her mother teaching her and her sisters how to eat as if they were dining with royalty. How to speak, sit, walk, and talk. As such she has her mother to blame for her somewhat noble demeanor.
When World War 2 began, it was a just cause. Every young man in Marseille wanted to join the war and her brothers did. They prayed for each of them every time they sat to ate, sleep or found a silence hanging in the main room. However, the war seemingly became unjustified after not too long. When France began to lose, when they realized that they were what stood between Britain and Germany, every day felt like the second hand on a timepiece steadily counting down the hour of freedom they held. They were many more hanging silences then.
In November of 1942, Marseille was officially occupied by Germany. Every time Eve would walk near the window her father would clutch a rosary, commonly her and her sisters hid in the basement, their photographs burned when the Germans occupied. If the Nazi's were asking, Eve's mother was fertile. It took a couple months for Eve's family to receive notice of their son passing away. The German's found new ways to punish Eve's father that night, when they discovered his children.
It wasn't until August 28th in 1944 that Eve would discover that the small hamlet she took pleasure in was not her own. She had always known she was different. In classes, boys didn't bully her, she was stronger than most girls, she got her way more often. But August 28th was still... Unexpected.
Eve went to a bar. Marseille was told that Germany was to leave the next morning. She was 22, she needed a drink after what could only be described as the slowest years of her life. She arrived at the bar and there lay in waiting two German officers. They threatened her, complained that they hadn't seen her in two full years of occupation, promised her a night she would never forget. Truth be told, it wasn't problematic to her that she killed them. The real problem lay upon the blame that would fall on her parents. She only truly felt for them. She stayed out that night.
The next morning a man, or something resembling a man, dressed in the garb of a Canadian soldier saw what she had done. She remembered he stood in front of her for a long while without uttering a word. He nodded once - shook his head another time but continued to stare at her bleakly looking up at him covered in blood. Finally when he opened his mouth he told her he could teach her, about herself, about her abilities, what made her different. By noon she had donned a nurse's outfit and hopped on a boat.
For the next three decades she lived in Lake Louise, Alberta. Learning English and Quebecois, learning to fit in with the everyday person. She had to learn how to fit in with people because the revelation that she was a lust demon came as... A bit of a shock. She found that the knowledge of who and what she was seemed to 'activate' that side of her. She found herself drawn to people like she had never felt before, she found herself staring at the bottom of a bottle much more commonly than she ever had. It didn't take long for her to end up in a 24A Faraday Heights. Tending bar and... Well she's been taking it easy.
When World War 2 began, it was a just cause. Every young man in Marseille wanted to join the war and her brothers did. They prayed for each of them every time they sat to ate, sleep or found a silence hanging in the main room. However, the war seemingly became unjustified after not too long. When France began to lose, when they realized that they were what stood between Britain and Germany, every day felt like the second hand on a timepiece steadily counting down the hour of freedom they held. They were many more hanging silences then.
In November of 1942, Marseille was officially occupied by Germany. Every time Eve would walk near the window her father would clutch a rosary, commonly her and her sisters hid in the basement, their photographs burned when the Germans occupied. If the Nazi's were asking, Eve's mother was fertile. It took a couple months for Eve's family to receive notice of their son passing away. The German's found new ways to punish Eve's father that night, when they discovered his children.
It wasn't until August 28th in 1944 that Eve would discover that the small hamlet she took pleasure in was not her own. She had always known she was different. In classes, boys didn't bully her, she was stronger than most girls, she got her way more often. But August 28th was still... Unexpected.
Eve went to a bar. Marseille was told that Germany was to leave the next morning. She was 22, she needed a drink after what could only be described as the slowest years of her life. She arrived at the bar and there lay in waiting two German officers. They threatened her, complained that they hadn't seen her in two full years of occupation, promised her a night she would never forget. Truth be told, it wasn't problematic to her that she killed them. The real problem lay upon the blame that would fall on her parents. She only truly felt for them. She stayed out that night.
The next morning a man, or something resembling a man, dressed in the garb of a Canadian soldier saw what she had done. She remembered he stood in front of her for a long while without uttering a word. He nodded once - shook his head another time but continued to stare at her bleakly looking up at him covered in blood. Finally when he opened his mouth he told her he could teach her, about herself, about her abilities, what made her different. By noon she had donned a nurse's outfit and hopped on a boat.
For the next three decades she lived in Lake Louise, Alberta. Learning English and Quebecois, learning to fit in with the everyday person. She had to learn how to fit in with people because the revelation that she was a lust demon came as... A bit of a shock. She found that the knowledge of who and what she was seemed to 'activate' that side of her. She found herself drawn to people like she had never felt before, she found herself staring at the bottom of a bottle much more commonly than she ever had. It didn't take long for her to end up in a 24A Faraday Heights. Tending bar and... Well she's been taking it easy.
| Family |
Her family is long dead, and she is unaware of her demonic lineage.
| Strengths |
- Bilingual (French and English)
- Very good vocalist
- Very good (Almost demonically so) at convincing people to do things. The more likely they were to do it before, the more likely she is successful.
| Weaknesses |
- Emotional
- Cocky
- Unstable
The Other
| Theme Song |
"Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley, Covered by Daniela Andrade.
”Who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control.”
”Who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control.”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights 24A (If I've got that right ?.?)
| Extra Information |
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done
Eve Lumière
Blake Preston
"Blake? She’s my roommate, wonderful girl really. Has a pretty popular blog too, I wish I could speak to groups of people like that. At first she wasn’t very receptive to me but we’ve gotten closer now. I’d say we’re pretty comfortable around one another."
"Blake? She’s my roommate, wonderful girl really. Has a pretty popular blog too, I wish I could speak to groups of people like that. At first she wasn’t very receptive to me but we’ve gotten closer now. I’d say we’re pretty comfortable around one another."
Blake is someone I want on my side. She’s loyal, compassionate and if nothing else, willing to go with the flow. Humans are always nicer than demons.
Daniel Belson
"Dan? He’s a bartender as well, you’ve got to respect someone who shares your profession. Kind enough I suppose, haven’t had all that much contact with me."
"Dan? He’s a bartender as well, you’ve got to respect someone who shares your profession. Kind enough I suppose, haven’t had all that much contact with me."
He is a human cactus. He is pokey when you touch him, but I have to imagine he’s a pretty good guy on the inside. He can keep pace with me, probably outlast me when it comes to bantering though – that’s troubling.
Alistair Queen
"Al is... Well He’s odd really. He’s owns the bar I work at and past that I’ve not hand any issues with him. However, whenever I have to pay him something he makes me do it in Scottish notes. Something about how they look."
"Al is... Well He’s odd really. He’s owns the bar I work at and past that I’ve not hand any issues with him. However, whenever I have to pay him something he makes me do it in Scottish notes. Something about how they look."
Al’s a good guy for the most part. I mean, he’s a good guy because being a good guy makes him feel good, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t a good guy. He’s flirty, but as a Lust demon he isn’t that flirty. He doesn’t seem to share much though, somewhat troubling.
Mariska Costas
"Mariska reminds me a lot of myself. She wants attention, she’s mature beyond her years, probably seen some shit. For that reason I like her just fine."
"Mariska reminds me a lot of myself. She wants attention, she’s mature beyond her years, probably seen some shit. For that reason I like her just fine."
I don’t know all too much about Mariska which can be a little worrisome from time to time. But I’ve not ran into much reason to suspect her of anything I wouldn’t do, so how bad could she be?
Nikita Yankovsky
"Nikki is a great girl. One after my own heart for sure."
"Nikki is a great girl. One after my own heart for sure."
As a lust demon, it takes one to know one and I notice similar signs in her. She's got the same itches and scratches. I can see it in her eyes, when she glances, when she inhales. It's a look you get used to seeing in the mirror I s'pose. Ah well, I’m sure she’s not gonna crucify me or anything.
Mordred Hame
"Mordred is okay I guess. But he’s not so into the fact that I drink a lot. I don’t know. "
"Mordred is okay I guess. But he’s not so into the fact that I drink a lot. I don’t know. "
#demonalert, I mean I could be wrong – I just don’t think I am. Although, he could be an Angel too. They’re annoying like that sometimes. He’s always chiding people, kind of obnoxious.
John Taylor
"Every time I see the poor kid I wanna buy him a burger. I mean he’s built like a goddam oak tree but he must weigh as much as I do."
"Every time I see the poor kid I wanna buy him a burger. I mean he’s built like a goddam oak tree but he must weigh as much as I do."
He’s worrisome. I have no idea what he is but it’s an other. There’s no doubt about that. That being said the kid knows how to drink so I can’t really hate him.
Catharine Reid
"Cara’s an interesting gal. Not too sure how to discern either way, but she’s a real cutie that one. She does some event planning, so I think she’s just asking for someone to ask her to plan their wedding or something like that. It’ll be sweet."
"Cara’s an interesting gal. Not too sure how to discern either way, but she’s a real cutie that one. She does some event planning, so I think she’s just asking for someone to ask her to plan their wedding or something like that. It’ll be sweet."
She reminds me of Al in some ways. Probably their managing skills, he owns the bar she plans some stuff. She's got that bad bitch walk that I love though.
Opallum
"He’s homeless and he likes wine. Well I work at the local watering hole so I’ve seen enough of the guy."
"He’s homeless and he likes wine. Well I work at the local watering hole so I’ve seen enough of the guy."
My demon sense tingle with this one, not too sure where he’d fit. Maybe sloth, but I don’t know him well enough to make the call.
Andrew Mordekai
"Andrew is a nice kid. Plain and simple he’s likable to a fault."
"Andrew is a nice kid. Plain and simple he’s likable to a fault."
I just like the guy, he’s pretty nice. Though taking it easy could be a nice thing for him to try out every once in a while, he’s always got that I should be somewhere face on. Looks exhausting.
Suriel White
"No comment."
"No comment."
Yeah I’m pretty sure she’s got me figured out into a bit of a corner if we’re being honest. But I’m pretty sure she won’t get all diving retribution on me as long as I haven’t been nabbing people in the dark and making deals and what have you.
Miles Catrose
"Miles once walked into the bar insulted the dubstep on the radio and the vodka on the rack behind me. I like Miles. Also I see him when I need a trim."
"Miles once walked into the bar insulted the dubstep on the radio and the vodka on the rack behind me. I like Miles. Also I see him when I need a trim."
He’s nice. You wouldn’t know it but I’m pretty sure he’s actually older than me by a fair bit. Which I suppose makes him an other as well. Unless he’s a pride demon I don’t think he’s a demon at all. Too excited about life, to the point of being arrogant really.
Yukiko Abe
"Yuki’s a sweet girl. She works as a tattoo artist at the parlor downtown. She doesn’t talk much but she’s got a smile that makes my damn heart still."
"Yuki’s a sweet girl. She works as a tattoo artist at the parlor downtown. She doesn’t talk much but she’s got a smile that makes my damn heart still."
I couldn’t tell you what she is or how old she is. She keeps that damn trap shut so much half the time she talks I can’t get even a small read on her. They always say watch out for the quiet one’s but I myself tend to look at the people who warn others. Shifting blame on the quiet ones seems like a half-decent way of avoiding suspicion if you ask me.
Mona
"Who?"
"Who?"
Seriously who? Wait, is that the… Nah. I don’t think so.
Faron Romane
"Faron’s got to be… Well. He’s a got a better heart than most and I suppose that’s truly what matters. Y’know? He’s got something about him that I find intriguing. Kids seriously in touch with nature though. "
"Faron’s got to be… Well. He’s a got a better heart than most and I suppose that’s truly what matters. Y’know? He’s got something about him that I find intriguing. Kids seriously in touch with nature though. "
Kid’s smart. Smarter than people give him credit for. He’s just not smart in the stupid ways, that’s huge. One to watch undoubtedly.
Nicolas Black
"In business there’s a pretty common philosophy. You can charge a premium or you can make your shit cheap. Idea is, if you find the right balance you make the most profit. Nick says fuck that, buys all the cheap whiskey I’ve got when I’m tending bar. He gives you that kind of vibe – go to him if you need help."
"In business there’s a pretty common philosophy. You can charge a premium or you can make your shit cheap. Idea is, if you find the right balance you make the most profit. Nick says fuck that, buys all the cheap whiskey I’ve got when I’m tending bar. He gives you that kind of vibe – go to him if you need help."
What is there to say? He’s a hot detective who drinks cheap shit and is probably only five days from retirement should the tropes continue. Apparently he digs cats too. They can be fun I guess.
Maggie Spencer-Adeyemi
"She’s sweet. Real holistic type, long walks in the woods, talks to trees, hugs her plants. I don’t know much about her."
"She’s sweet. Real holistic type, long walks in the woods, talks to trees, hugs her plants. I don’t know much about her."
Eh she’s essentially the type of person that is ‘better than you’ but she’d never say it. Nor does she probably believe it. If nature stands a chance of surviving humanity though it’s in her backyard.
Megumi
"She’s fucking adorable."
"She’s fucking adorable."
I don’t know. Something about her – definitely an other. She acts like a child that all checks out but… Call it a sixth sense, call it a woman’s intuition. Call it I’m staying away.
Katherine Haynes
"She’s cute."
"She’s cute."
She seems down a lot – on the other hand somewhat confident. Just paradoxical to fit in to the new world of others.
Felicia Underwood
"Felix? Yeah Felix is well liked. She’s the kinda girl that knows you’re having problems before you do."
"Felix? Yeah Felix is well liked. She’s the kinda girl that knows you’re having problems before you do."
I’m calling it here. She’s a telepath, a mutant maybe like the comics. That’s it. I should’ve known I left the oven on. Hm? Well, no, she didn’t tell me I left the oven wrong but she looked at me like she knew.
Elise Callaghan
"Elise? Yeah she’s a little cold but she’s something I’ll tell you."
"Elise? Yeah she’s a little cold but she’s something I’ll tell you."
So she’s not a lust demon. I suppose she could’ve been half lust demon but that’s not it either. I don’t know what it is but it’s weird. She walks in a room and she’s there. I look at her, and she’s gone and I’m thinking ‘where’d she go?’ I don’t know why or how to explain it. It’s… I don’t know.
Stefani Roche
"Stef is the sweetest, you catch her giving you these looks sometimes, what can I say puppy eye dogs and a fake that isn't the worst and I serve her."
"Stef is the sweetest, you catch her giving you these looks sometimes, what can I say puppy eye dogs and a fake that isn't the worst and I serve her."
Stef is a good girl. She's being raised by the older lady up by Faraday so I think she's safe, but she walks in a I get a little protective, I won't lie. Maybe it's all this shit in the news recently.
Ari Amari
"He's a nice young man, but I'm relatively sure he predates the wheel. He also makes a face whenever I order a gin and gin."
"He's a nice young man, but I'm relatively sure he predates the wheel. He also makes a face whenever I order a gin and gin."
Seriously I caught him talking about Vesuvius this one time, describing it's eruption. Which means this mother fucker is ancient. Probably has every right to treat Yuki like a child, which is somewhat horrifying.
Claire O’Malley
"Haven’t really met her yet, she walked into the bar once I think."
"Haven’t really met her yet, she walked into the bar once I think."
Kind of reminds me of Andrew. That being said I couldn’t say for sure.
Ari Amari
"He's a nice young man, but I'm relatively sure he predates the wheel. He also makes a face whenever I order a gin and gin."
"He's a nice young man, but I'm relatively sure he predates the wheel. He also makes a face whenever I order a gin and gin."
Seriously I caught him talking about Vesuvius this one time, describing it's eruption. Which means this mother fucker is ancient. Probably has every right to treat Yuki like a child, which is somewhat horrifying.
Barachiel
"I’ll pass."
"I’ll pass."
Nope.
Ethan Cooper
"He fights with Danny like an old housewife. They also live with that one girl, Aila. Are... Is Danny playing house over there?"
"He fights with Danny like an old housewife. They also live with that one girl, Aila. Are... Is Danny playing house over there?"
Nice kid, if Danny weren’t so head over heels with him I’d try something but he is and I doubt he’d be too into me anyway.
Alfie Liau
"Not really my taste."
"Not really my taste."
He just seems so young. Could be older than me for all I know but he’s just so small.
Astrid Kitchener
"She’s cute, I might have to pay her a visit soon."
"She’s cute, I might have to pay her a visit soon."
What? I’m a lust demon not a nun, the girl’s got nice eyes – get off my back.
Michael
"Good looking guy with a better taste in music."
"Good looking guy with a better taste in music."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"She’s cute, doe eyed girl."
"She’s cute, doe eyed girl."
Personally, I think she’s seen too much shit to be in a relationship. She’s got those eyes, saw those kind of eyes a lot when I was a young kid.
Emerson Maddox
"A lawyer? Maybe I should wrap him around my finger."
"A lawyer? Maybe I should wrap him around my finger."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"She’s certainly sure of herself."
"She’s certainly sure of herself."
Mmmm hot damn, don’t mind a piece of that if I say so myself.
Loki Van Stenberg
"Don’t know him."
"Don’t know him."
There’s that dealer, goes by Low Key – I’m not into that kind of shit. With Ryan as a cop – I don’t think most people would get away with that kind of thing.
Freddie Hughes-Jackson
"Freddie’s a funny kid, cute – nice butt."
"Freddie’s a funny kid, cute – nice butt."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"I don’t know the kid."
"I don’t know the kid."
No really, who is he?
Aiden Phillips
"Doc? Oh him and I go way back, yeah… Well no, but he’s cute so I sure would like to."
"Doc? Oh him and I go way back, yeah… Well no, but he’s cute so I sure would like to."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"The cop? Yeah he seems like a good man with a little too much on his shoulders."
"The cop? Yeah he seems like a good man with a little too much on his shoulders."
He comes by the bar, double whiskey. Seems rough putting the city on your shoulders like that.
Eternity Loveless
"She is… A lot to take in all at once."
"She is… A lot to take in all at once."
Do we need to have a talk? ‘Snowstorms and why you shouldn’t make them happen?’
Patrick Kershner
"A little young. A little overly concerned perhaps."
"A little young. A little overly concerned perhaps."
Good kid overall though. Don’t tell him that, he needs to find balance in his ego and his worries.
Nicodem Kaminski
“He’s got that George Clooney, sexy older man thing."
“He’s got that George Clooney, sexy older man thing."
How old is a big part of the question though isn’t it? He’s Ryan’s Deputy and I think that might’ve ended up being life partners. Living in the same place and all.
Aewin Fangirl Extraordinaire
Member
Seen
2 days ago
| Name |
Catharine "Cara" Elsie Reid
| Date of Birth |
2nd April 1804
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Closeted Bisexual
| Occupation |
Cara owns her own events managing business.
| In-Depth Appearance |
To say that Cara is short is an understatement, tiny is more like it. Standing at 1.57m, or only 5'1" and weighing in the lower 100 pounds, Cara looks as sweet and unthreatening as someone can appear. She's not one to be underestimated though, what she lacks in height, she definitely makes up in her large personality. Her body is somewhat curvy, hourglass shaped with little muscle and fat but definitely not runway worthy.
Moving up to her face, she possesses lightly tanned skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose and forehead, most barely visible due to the way her hair has been cut and framed across her forehead. Her hair is of a light chocolate shade, barely reaching past her shoulders in tousled waves (unless straightened, then it is definitely past her shoulders). She used to wear straight bangs across her forehead, which now she styles apart as her hair has grown since the last time she had a chance to trim the locks. She has wide almond shaped brown eyes, framed with thicker, darker eyebrows giving her the innocent cherub look and adding to her already cutesy appearance (she's not cute, dammit!) Cara walks with confidence, her strides long and often with purpose. She's often found either with a smile, or a dreamy look as she's busy thinking about anything else other than bullshit.
She also has deep dimples on each cheek, both which makes her somewhat insecure when someone points them out.
Make-up and clothing wise, she does nothing too drastic. Okay, maybe her clothes are a little outgoing than she used to wear back in the 1800's, but what's a girl to do when she has more rights? She's often seen wearing dresses or shorts, anything that shows off her shapely legs in a variety of shades and patterns. Cara prefers not to wear heels, even if they do add to her lack of height, and instead opts for comfortable boots or converses. Her make up is kept natural, maybe except for some days where she applies red lipstick for the sultry look.
Moving up to her face, she possesses lightly tanned skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose and forehead, most barely visible due to the way her hair has been cut and framed across her forehead. Her hair is of a light chocolate shade, barely reaching past her shoulders in tousled waves (unless straightened, then it is definitely past her shoulders). She used to wear straight bangs across her forehead, which now she styles apart as her hair has grown since the last time she had a chance to trim the locks. She has wide almond shaped brown eyes, framed with thicker, darker eyebrows giving her the innocent cherub look and adding to her already cutesy appearance (she's not cute, dammit!) Cara walks with confidence, her strides long and often with purpose. She's often found either with a smile, or a dreamy look as she's busy thinking about anything else other than bullshit.
She also has deep dimples on each cheek, both which makes her somewhat insecure when someone points them out.
Make-up and clothing wise, she does nothing too drastic. Okay, maybe her clothes are a little outgoing than she used to wear back in the 1800's, but what's a girl to do when she has more rights? She's often seen wearing dresses or shorts, anything that shows off her shapely legs in a variety of shades and patterns. Cara prefers not to wear heels, even if they do add to her lack of height, and instead opts for comfortable boots or converses. Her make up is kept natural, maybe except for some days where she applies red lipstick for the sultry look.
| Personality |
♦ Stubborn ♦ Bold ♦ Control-freak ♦ Cynical ♦
A typical Aries woman, Cara is loud, bold and confident. And she proves it with her walk. Back straight, chin up and a usual cheeky grin on her face, Cara always looks like as if she has something on her mind. She is highly self-reliant and refuses to take help from others - whether it be because of her ego or her independent trait, it doesn't matter. If Cara is struggling with something, you sure as hell won't be told about it.
Stubborn as a bull, she refuses to take no for an answer to her requests, but respects people enough to back off should she realise that she is definitely not going to get her way, no matter how much it irks her. Cara loves control, and will often look like a fish out of water when she doesn't have any control. Even if she likes to have control of her situation and surroundings, call her a control-freak, and she'll hate you forever. Her cynical and distrustful nature comes from what she calls the "Betrayal" (yes, with a capital B, too!) where her ex-lover turned her into the vamp she is now on the eve of her wedding.
To put it bluntly, she is a mixture of a fearless warrior and a really stupid undisciplined child. She's impulsive and usually won't think twice if she's about to do something stupid (which usually causes her control-freakness to flare up when she realises she doesn't know what the actual fuck she's gotten herself into) and Cara will often sulk when she doesn't get her own way.
Stubborn as a bull, she refuses to take no for an answer to her requests, but respects people enough to back off should she realise that she is definitely not going to get her way, no matter how much it irks her. Cara loves control, and will often look like a fish out of water when she doesn't have any control. Even if she likes to have control of her situation and surroundings, call her a control-freak, and she'll hate you forever. Her cynical and distrustful nature comes from what she calls the "Betrayal" (yes, with a capital B, too!) where her ex-lover turned her into the vamp she is now on the eve of her wedding.
To put it bluntly, she is a mixture of a fearless warrior and a really stupid undisciplined child. She's impulsive and usually won't think twice if she's about to do something stupid (which usually causes her control-freakness to flare up when she realises she doesn't know what the actual fuck she's gotten herself into) and Cara will often sulk when she doesn't get her own way.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Watching trashy TV
✔ Being pampered
✔ Drinking special wine
✔ Animals (especially dogs)
✔ Being in control
✔ Smoking
✔ Children, especially when she can take care of them herself like her own
✘ Rats
✘ Any creature with more than four limbs basically fuck spiders
✘ Rusty metal
✘ Jewellery (she loses them too often)
✘ Being sleep deprived
✘ Pink
✘ People that call her a control freak
✔ Being pampered
✔ Drinking special wine
✔ Animals (especially dogs)
✔ Being in control
✔ Smoking
✔ Children, especially when she can take care of them herself like her own
✘ Rats
✘ Any creature with more than four limbs basically fuck spiders
✘ Rusty metal
✘ Jewellery (she loses them too often)
✘ Being sleep deprived
✘ Pink
✘ People that call her a control freak
| History |
Born in the ending rein of the Georgian era, Catharine Elsie Reid was the fifth child to a farming family off in the country-side of England. With the growing usage of machines, introduced by the Industrial Revolution, crops and farming had doubled, bringing in wealth and profits to the large Reid family. Of course, they weren't the richest, but it was enough to feed their seven children and few cattle they owned.
Catharine grew up in a rowdy household, being the second daughter to a family filled primarily with boys. Her mother, Elizabeth, attempted to keep the two girls in check, but would often fail with dealing severe punishments whenever she caught Catharine and Victoria (Catharine's elder sister) hiding out in the vast fields of the Reid farm. She was given little education, just enough to know how to read, write and calculate basic sums. Most of her skills relied on cooking and sewing, exactly what a girl was expected of during this era.
By the time Catharine was fourteen, her sister had ran away with a rival farmer's son, leaving Catharine and her family to deal with the shame and consequences that came with such bold action. It was a secret, but even after Victoria had left, Catharine kept in contact with her - enough to know where her sister was and whether her husband was treating her well. Because of her sister, however, her strict father's eye remained on his remaining daughter, making sure she never stepped out of line to dishonour the family in any way. It worked, for about a few years until Catharine met a soldier fighting in the First Ashanti War. Their relationship was scandalous, he was twenty-nine and she was barely in her twenties, but she had done everything she could to keep it a secret. However, it wasn't long until their relationship was discovered and the two were separated from the other, with Catharine being arranged to wed another guy.
The night before her wedding, Catharine was visited by her ex-lover briefly. He simply kissed her, before pushing her out of the window to fall to her death. Twenty hours later, Catharine was reborn. It was obvious she couldn't go back to her family - she couldn't go back to anybody now that she had just been raised from the dead. So Catharine did the one thing she knew: she ran away just like her sister had.
For the next two centuries of her life, Catharine travelled wherever she could, taking each job that was available to pay for her travels. The outing of the supernatural creatures both relieved and scared her. Relieved bacause she didn't need to keep running to escape the usual "why isn't she ageing" questions, but scared because of the potential reaction from the humans around her. If she was told one day that there was a bunch of new species that were living under her nose, Cara knew even she wouldn't be very happy.
Currently, Catharine (now going as Cara) has opened up her own small events business as an events organiser while taking night classes in the local college to get enough qualifications to move up the career ladder. She never found her lover - who she believes was the reason she's the creature of the night. Cara hopes to find him one day, if he's even alive and strangle that arsehole.
Catharine grew up in a rowdy household, being the second daughter to a family filled primarily with boys. Her mother, Elizabeth, attempted to keep the two girls in check, but would often fail with dealing severe punishments whenever she caught Catharine and Victoria (Catharine's elder sister) hiding out in the vast fields of the Reid farm. She was given little education, just enough to know how to read, write and calculate basic sums. Most of her skills relied on cooking and sewing, exactly what a girl was expected of during this era.
By the time Catharine was fourteen, her sister had ran away with a rival farmer's son, leaving Catharine and her family to deal with the shame and consequences that came with such bold action. It was a secret, but even after Victoria had left, Catharine kept in contact with her - enough to know where her sister was and whether her husband was treating her well. Because of her sister, however, her strict father's eye remained on his remaining daughter, making sure she never stepped out of line to dishonour the family in any way. It worked, for about a few years until Catharine met a soldier fighting in the First Ashanti War. Their relationship was scandalous, he was twenty-nine and she was barely in her twenties, but she had done everything she could to keep it a secret. However, it wasn't long until their relationship was discovered and the two were separated from the other, with Catharine being arranged to wed another guy.
The night before her wedding, Catharine was visited by her ex-lover briefly. He simply kissed her, before pushing her out of the window to fall to her death. Twenty hours later, Catharine was reborn. It was obvious she couldn't go back to her family - she couldn't go back to anybody now that she had just been raised from the dead. So Catharine did the one thing she knew: she ran away just like her sister had.
For the next two centuries of her life, Catharine travelled wherever she could, taking each job that was available to pay for her travels. The outing of the supernatural creatures both relieved and scared her. Relieved bacause she didn't need to keep running to escape the usual "why isn't she ageing" questions, but scared because of the potential reaction from the humans around her. If she was told one day that there was a bunch of new species that were living under her nose, Cara knew even she wouldn't be very happy.
Currently, Catharine (now going as Cara) has opened up her own small events business as an events organiser while taking night classes in the local college to get enough qualifications to move up the career ladder. She never found her lover - who she believes was the reason she's the creature of the night. Cara hopes to find him one day, if he's even alive and strangle that arsehole.
| Family |
Jonathan Reid | Father | Cara's relationship with her dead father was often that of a strict parent and a free-spirited child. It often ended with tears or slammed doors. It was her father's decision to get her married off to save face in society after her secret relationship was found out. Since Cara was turned,she never returned to see her father's reaction to her death, so she doesn't know whether her father was upset or glad because she was gone.
Elizabeth Reid | Mother | A somewhat better relationship with her mother, Cara still wasn't as specially close with her mother either. She definitely preferred her mother over her father, however, due to her mother's caring and docile nature. One of Cara's biggest regrets that she never returned home to visit her mother at least once before her mother passed.
Victoria Reid | Oldest sister | Victoria and Catharine's relatonship was stronger than two peas in a pod. They might as well have been twins rather than two children with over half a decade of difference in age. Cara was the only one in the family to know of her sister's whereabouts after her sister ran off to marry her lover. Cara was definitely inspired by her sister's love story, and was bitter when her own didn't end up as beautifully as her sister's did. Cara went to live with her sister for a month after she was turned, taking refuge in Victoria's house until Cara had enough funds to travel to Scotland and figure out her new life on her own.
Elizabeth Reid | Mother | A somewhat better relationship with her mother, Cara still wasn't as specially close with her mother either. She definitely preferred her mother over her father, however, due to her mother's caring and docile nature. One of Cara's biggest regrets that she never returned home to visit her mother at least once before her mother passed.
Victoria Reid | Oldest sister | Victoria and Catharine's relatonship was stronger than two peas in a pod. They might as well have been twins rather than two children with over half a decade of difference in age. Cara was the only one in the family to know of her sister's whereabouts after her sister ran off to marry her lover. Cara was definitely inspired by her sister's love story, and was bitter when her own didn't end up as beautifully as her sister's did. Cara went to live with her sister for a month after she was turned, taking refuge in Victoria's house until Cara had enough funds to travel to Scotland and figure out her new life on her own.
| Strengths |
- Free-spirit
- Independent
| Weaknesses |
- Doesn't trust others very easily
- Has a big ego
- Impulsive
| Theme Song |
RIP 2 My Youth - The Neighbourhood
"If you really listen, then this is to you
Mama, there is only so much I can do
Tough for you to witness it but it was for me too
I'm using white lighters to see what's in front of me
RIP to my youth”
"If you really listen, then this is to you
Mama, there is only so much I can do
Tough for you to witness it but it was for me too
I'm using white lighters to see what's in front of me
RIP to my youth”
| House Number |
30A Faraday Heights
| Extra Information |
- Cara's favourite country to live in by far is Italy. She even learnt the Italian language just so she could work in Venice for the better part of half a century.
- Cara hates the fact that she's infertile because of the vampirism. With each year that passes in her life, she's constantly reminded that she cannot have kids when she sees other mothers walking into her store requesting birthday parties and baby showers.
Ebonsquire SHE GOT ME MAD AS SHIT
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
"Frankie Knuckles was something else, I'm telling you."
Opallum
Demon[Ifrit] - Sathanus - Wrath
Demon[Ifrit] - Sathanus - Wrath
Basic Information
| Name |
Opallum
| Date of Birth |
1936 - Unknown month and day
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Heterosexual
| Occupation |
Currently unemployed.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Opallum’s assumed form is that of an African male around 5’9” in height with a considerably athletic build and heavy stubble spanning from his sideburns and curving about his prominent chin in a clean, chinstrap fashion. In regards to heftiness, though, Opallum maintains a somewhat healthy body weight of 135 pounds. Age-wise, he looks to be in his early twenties. His posture when standing is upright and resolute, and he sports a fairly large, black afro which retains a relatively kempt and properly picked out fashion. When sauntering about the borough of Edgetoun, no matter the weather or day, his body is adorned in baggy khaki pants which is usually a size above his actual fitting, and held up by a gray fabric belt. A plain white tank top covers his torso, and two black, beaded necklaces hang around his neck. The only other type jewelry he has in possession are two gold, hooped earrings which he is always seen wearing. Often, the only type of shoes he's known to slip on are a light brown pair of moccasins or black ankle strap sandals. On most days, Opallum prefers to throw on a pair of overbearing and worn Versace sunglasses. Over time, one would notice that this is the same outfit that he wears almost every single day, save for special occasions, where he somehow manages to acquire appropriate attire for the occasion. Opallum is more on the muscular side, holding a comparatively lean fat to muscle mass ratio with notably pronounced shoulder blades.
As for his true form (which isn’t all that impressive), there are few -- but noteworthy -- differences. Stubby tusks protrude from his upper jaw and outwards till it reaches the front of his upper lip, and the color of his eyes are altered -- black sidera, with pupils and irises a distinct carmine color, a distinct shift from the usual white sidera, umbrous pupil, and dark brown iris. This form has no real function other than to serve as a means of identification to prove that Opallum is an Other, or to intimidate, but only when he finds it absolutely necessary.
As for his true form (which isn’t all that impressive), there are few -- but noteworthy -- differences. Stubby tusks protrude from his upper jaw and outwards till it reaches the front of his upper lip, and the color of his eyes are altered -- black sidera, with pupils and irises a distinct carmine color, a distinct shift from the usual white sidera, umbrous pupil, and dark brown iris. This form has no real function other than to serve as a means of identification to prove that Opallum is an Other, or to intimidate, but only when he finds it absolutely necessary.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Erudite ♦ Heathen ♦ Free-spirited ♦ Curious ♦
More often than not, Opallum is spotted with a light frown which frequently signifies his usual state of boredom. Even though he's fairly young, all the experiences that he's endured and the individuals he's met have seemed to finally take its toll on him. It's likely that he was far too eager to face the intricacies and wonders of the world in his even more youthful stages of life, and now all those encounters over time -- sensual, combative, or dire -- have ultimately resulted in the exhaustion of his initial fervor.
Opallum's djinn classification is a distinct green, denoting youthfulness and a particularly mischievous nature within the mystical djinn society. Although he might not always seem to fit this frame on the surface, he is, at heart, one who seeks to derive entertainment from those around him and eventful occurrences. This ifrit is one who commonly prefers to back out of petty or intense drama and instead observe from a safe distance so that he may gather whatever information he can on those involved in the verbal scuffle. In some instances (and if safe enough), Opallum might decide that it would be most beneficial for his own entertainment to instigate "healthy" amounts of strife between individuals. Opallum is a djinn who simply tries to enjoy life whenever, as the ember of excitement that once resided in his eyes is swiftly fading away.
On approach, Opallum is a generally affable fellow. A kind greeting would come to those who wished to speak with him, and he can hold a fairly decent conversation no matter the topic. At any point which he can interact with others tends to alleviate the burdensome wave of ennui that had previously struck, and thus his suffering is lifted for a time. However, if someone manages to bore him (which isn't quite difficult to do), he has no qualms with outright ignoring them and ambling off elsewhere -- one of the ruder gestures he's recently taken up. It is rare to ever see him become enraged or even slightly perturbed, but it is possible if enough effort is exerted in order to invoke that reaction. This ifrit's nature is especially pervasive throughout most of his relationships and he's prone to treating most people like this unless they've managed to somehow prove themselves to be rather entertaining characters to him, worthy of spending time with. At this point, one would be able to experience his slightly more open personality, where he's more willing to share secrets and even admit to some his own temperamental facets.
Opallum's djinn classification is a distinct green, denoting youthfulness and a particularly mischievous nature within the mystical djinn society. Although he might not always seem to fit this frame on the surface, he is, at heart, one who seeks to derive entertainment from those around him and eventful occurrences. This ifrit is one who commonly prefers to back out of petty or intense drama and instead observe from a safe distance so that he may gather whatever information he can on those involved in the verbal scuffle. In some instances (and if safe enough), Opallum might decide that it would be most beneficial for his own entertainment to instigate "healthy" amounts of strife between individuals. Opallum is a djinn who simply tries to enjoy life whenever, as the ember of excitement that once resided in his eyes is swiftly fading away.
On approach, Opallum is a generally affable fellow. A kind greeting would come to those who wished to speak with him, and he can hold a fairly decent conversation no matter the topic. At any point which he can interact with others tends to alleviate the burdensome wave of ennui that had previously struck, and thus his suffering is lifted for a time. However, if someone manages to bore him (which isn't quite difficult to do), he has no qualms with outright ignoring them and ambling off elsewhere -- one of the ruder gestures he's recently taken up. It is rare to ever see him become enraged or even slightly perturbed, but it is possible if enough effort is exerted in order to invoke that reaction. This ifrit's nature is especially pervasive throughout most of his relationships and he's prone to treating most people like this unless they've managed to somehow prove themselves to be rather entertaining characters to him, worthy of spending time with. At this point, one would be able to experience his slightly more open personality, where he's more willing to share secrets and even admit to some his own temperamental facets.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Spicy and savory foods
✔Humid or mild weather
✔Underground locations and decrepit, rundown city buildings
✔Large dogs (e.g., great danes, mastiffs, and St. Bernards)
✔Dark fruits
✔Wines and sweet liqueurs
✔Loose-fitting clothes
✔House music
✘Felines
✘Horror films
✘Witches
✘Tight or wooly clothing
✘Winter
✘Awkward situations (one thing he really cannot deal with, no matter how many times he's experienced them)
✘Country music
✔Humid or mild weather
✔Underground locations and decrepit, rundown city buildings
✔Large dogs (e.g., great danes, mastiffs, and St. Bernards)
✔Dark fruits
✔Wines and sweet liqueurs
✔Loose-fitting clothes
✔House music
✘Felines
✘Horror films
✘Witches
✘Tight or wooly clothing
✘Winter
✘Awkward situations (one thing he really cannot deal with, no matter how many times he's experienced them)
✘Country music
| History |
All that was needed to birth Opallum into the Earthen realm was a medium burst of fire not covering a span of even five square meters in the dank, murky underground of subterranean London’s tunnel system. At first, he was a humanoid being of pure flame, but within less than a minute of existence, the flames cooled, ash and dust from his surroundings began to coagulate about his form, bringing him skin, flesh, and other bodily necessities took their position and resulted in the body which he . The entire process was over in less than two minutes. When he was finally imbued with the concept of sentience, a name reverberated throughout the chambers of his mind: Opallum. The unfamiliar and booming voices were unrelenting in their verbal assailment, until the newborn ifrit had decided to utter the name. It was then that the voices halted. Allowing himself a moment to recuperate, the ifrit staggered back against the curved tunnel wall, very nude and confused. Looking about warily, Opallum murmured a query primarily directed towards himself.
“Now what?”
Since his unexpected birth (and finally managing to escape the vast array of tunnels that obstructed him from reaching the surface), Opallum was able to amass enough knowledge from citizens on the street to gain a fundamental understanding that he should be clothed, first. Afterwards, the rest of his life was spent being a vagabond -- perpetually confused for the first fifty years of his life, Opallum had decided to take advantage of the lack of boundaries and overwatch kept on him and indulged in whatever curious wonders the world were offered. Over time, he picked up on rumors which detailed the existence of Others. Promptly, with an attraction akin to a magnet, Others eventually managed to bump into him throughout his life, and he was exposed to the world of Others. Ghosts, demons, faefolk, and other various types of creatures and eldritch entities were known to him. His endeavor to learn about the world came to a satisfied fruition after gathering enough information on both the psyche and inner workings of the humans and the Others. Still wondering the streets of England, he eventually came upon the seemingly friendly borough of Edgetoun.
The idea to stick around for a while rather than move on struck his mind quite suddenly. Others have been spread out in England for quite some time, but now, here in Edgetoun, there was a proper gathering that could potentially usher in a period of peace with their interactions, or one of chaos with a new target being placed on them by humankind. Both outcomes pleased Opallum greatly, and so he decided to stay grounded for the moment, awaiting the introduction of any observable conflict or tranquility.
“Now what?”
Since his unexpected birth (and finally managing to escape the vast array of tunnels that obstructed him from reaching the surface), Opallum was able to amass enough knowledge from citizens on the street to gain a fundamental understanding that he should be clothed, first. Afterwards, the rest of his life was spent being a vagabond -- perpetually confused for the first fifty years of his life, Opallum had decided to take advantage of the lack of boundaries and overwatch kept on him and indulged in whatever curious wonders the world were offered. Over time, he picked up on rumors which detailed the existence of Others. Promptly, with an attraction akin to a magnet, Others eventually managed to bump into him throughout his life, and he was exposed to the world of Others. Ghosts, demons, faefolk, and other various types of creatures and eldritch entities were known to him. His endeavor to learn about the world came to a satisfied fruition after gathering enough information on both the psyche and inner workings of the humans and the Others. Still wondering the streets of England, he eventually came upon the seemingly friendly borough of Edgetoun.
The idea to stick around for a while rather than move on struck his mind quite suddenly. Others have been spread out in England for quite some time, but now, here in Edgetoun, there was a proper gathering that could potentially usher in a period of peace with their interactions, or one of chaos with a new target being placed on them by humankind. Both outcomes pleased Opallum greatly, and so he decided to stay grounded for the moment, awaiting the introduction of any observable conflict or tranquility.
| Family |
Father - Nafran
Mother - Mah'jan
Relationship? Opallum is incredibly estranged from the both of them. After his manifestation into the human realm, his parents came to a mutual decision that they should abandon him and return to enjoying their existence within the ethereal realm of the djinn. Given the exclusivity of these two elder ifrits, not much is known about their nature, personality, or influence.
Mother - Mah'jan
Relationship? Opallum is incredibly estranged from the both of them. After his manifestation into the human realm, his parents came to a mutual decision that they should abandon him and return to enjoying their existence within the ethereal realm of the djinn. Given the exclusivity of these two elder ifrits, not much is known about their nature, personality, or influence.
| Strengths |
- Knowledgeable
- Tolerant (relatively)
- Creative
| Weaknesses |
- Any form of magic that doesn't directly involve fire
- A fear of magic using creatures
- A tad bit too lethargic at times, despite his nature, and thus prone to zoning out constantly
- Takes the path of least resistance. Definitely not a fighter, whatsoever
The Other
| Theme Song |
Miso Shiru - Gush
"Yo . . .
I read some shit about how,
Someday the universe will expand to a point where it won't be able to exist."
"Yo . . .
I read some shit about how,
Someday the universe will expand to a point where it won't be able to exist."
| House Number |
Homeless.
| Extra Information |
Novice Fire Evocation Fire evocation is the practice of evoking fire in different shapes and forms from using the infernal energies imbued within an ifrit's body. Due to Opallum's origins as an entity of fire, however, the skill should come naturally . . . Unfortunately, with a lack of training and inexperience with his own physiology, the most he can do is light a cigar with a brief spurt of flame.
Flying: The ability to hover and weave through the air with ease is by far one of the more useful abilities Opallum has. While he might not be able to soar up to the clouds and travel through the skies at Superman-level speeds, flight has gotten Opallum out of tense and dangerous situations a multitude of times. Due to his level of skill, though, he may only stay afloat for a maximum of fifteen minutes.
Flying: The ability to hover and weave through the air with ease is by far one of the more useful abilities Opallum has. While he might not be able to soar up to the clouds and travel through the skies at Superman-level speeds, flight has gotten Opallum out of tense and dangerous situations a multitude of times. Due to his level of skill, though, he may only stay afloat for a maximum of fifteen minutes.
Opallum
Blake Preston
"Her? Fun as hell to be around, I can imagine. She's like a firecracker -- an inferno, rather -- that never dies down, y'know?"
"Her? Fun as hell to be around, I can imagine. She's like a firecracker -- an inferno, rather -- that never dies down, y'know?"
She might be insane. Love her energy, though. Super laid back, too. Surprised she doesn't get into more fights, what with all that fire-in-the-heart gusto she has going on. And she's pretty fun-sized, which is definitely one of my preferences when it comes to women. Hope she sticks around.
Daniel Belson
"Mmm . . . Only seen that guy around once or twice, maybe. He seems . . . Alright? I'unno."
"Mmm . . . Only seen that guy around once or twice, maybe. He seems . . . Alright? I'unno."
Don't know enough about the fellow. For all I know, he could be a sod or a genuinely nice guy. Until I meet him properly, I'll stay neutral with this one.
Alistair Queen
"Rich vamp. I've shared a conversation with him once -- a short one. I've got to praise him for the work he's doing. Really helping out."
"Rich vamp. I've shared a conversation with him once -- a short one. I've got to praise him for the work he's doing. Really helping out."
He's like a guardian of some sort for the people in this borough. I'm probably just thinking that because he's the landlord, but . . . Putting himself out there and assisting all these Others is just . . . good? Yeah. Not sure what he's like on the inside. Probably just as empty and unfulfilled as the rest of the elderly vampires lounging around.
Mariska Costas
"Heard that girl singing when I passed by a joint and decided to step in. She's got that voice, no question. Strange genre of sound, though. Can't tell if its jazz or bossa nova -- or maybe a mixture. Interesting, uhm . . . hairdo, too.
"Heard that girl singing when I passed by a joint and decided to step in. She's got that voice, no question. Strange genre of sound, though. Can't tell if its jazz or bossa nova -- or maybe a mixture. Interesting, uhm . . . hairdo, too.
Stylish. Seems like a tomboy, in my opinion. Don't know much else about the lady. Should try to get to know her eventually.
Nikita Yankovsky
"Hott. With two t's."
"Hott. With two t's."
I've caught her walking around the city before. Nice legs. Could do with less make-up, maybe. Don't know much else about her.
Mordred Hame
"Mordred . . . Hame. Oh, right! I've seen him around. Dig the white hair."
"Mordred . . . Hame. Oh, right! I've seen him around. Dig the white hair."
Some passerbys were conversing and I overheard them talking about him. No insults or anything like that, but just an idle 'yeah, he's pretty cool' and something about his music, I think. Then, another time, when I was loitering around in some alleyway, these two guys came through and were going on about him. I couldn't tell what else they were saying, unfortunately, because they were speaking so damn quickly and silently.
John Taylor
"Good ol' Johnny Boy. Yeah, I've shared a drink or two with him. He's got a nice beard."
"Good ol' Johnny Boy. Yeah, I've shared a drink or two with him. He's got a nice beard."
To be honest, I can't recall a single one of the conversations we've shared. I know that I've spoken with him before, but I just . . . My memory is trash when it comes to things like verbal discourse, sadly. I'm sure he's a great guy. I'm sure if I asked him for a favor or two he'd gladly help out, so there's that.
Eve Lumière
"She gives me alcohol whenever I've scraped together enough money to afford a drink. She's good in my book."
"She gives me alcohol whenever I've scraped together enough money to afford a drink. She's good in my book."
Succubus, for sure. Has to be. Her face is . . . weird, though. Otherwise, she's pretty attractive. Also pretty sociable for a bartender -- at least, from my own personal experiences.
Catharine Reid
"I'm . . . not too sure who that is. Seems familiar, but I can't quite put my coin on it."
"I'm . . . not too sure who that is. Seems familiar, but I can't quite put my coin on it."
I might have seen her around. Don't think I've spoken with her, though.
Andrew Mordekai
"Sick tattoos. Almost makes me want to get some."
"Sick tattoos. Almost makes me want to get some."
He seems real tense. Always looks like he's prepared to have a fight with someone. I always like to think that he's some Jason Bourne-esque guy who's being hunted down or something. Past ties, enemies chasing him, laying low for now -- that kind of stuff. The entire idea of that actually being true is stupid, but . . . Who knows.
Suriel White
"Suriel . . . ? Sounds like . . . Mmph. No, I don't think I've heard of her -- him? Her? Her. Sounds like a girl's name."
"Suriel . . . ? Sounds like . . . Mmph. No, I don't think I've heard of her -- him? Her? Her. Sounds like a girl's name."
I've never had the pleasure of meeting this lady. Although, the "-iel" component of their name raises some suspicion within me. This suffix is . . . Angelic-sounding.
Miles Catrose
"From what I've gathered, he sounds like an even cunt-ier version of that one American pop star. Justin Beaver? Bieber. Looks like him too, in my opinion."
"From what I've gathered, he sounds like an even cunt-ier version of that one American pop star. Justin Beaver? Bieber. Looks like him too, in my opinion."
I do like people, but he's probably the last person I want to hang around.
Yukiko Abe
"Not sure who that is."
"Not sure who that is."
Should meet her at some point.
Mona
"Huh?"
"Huh?"
No goddamn clue who that is.
Faron Romane
"Uh . . . "
"Uh . . . "
I can't tell if that's a name for a girl or a name for a guy.
Nicolas Black
"A cop? Eeh . . . Kudos to him for keeping our streets safe."
"A cop? Eeh . . . Kudos to him for keeping our streets safe."
I hope he doesn't approach me. I do not like dealing with the police. I mean, they're probably nice, but . . . I don't know. I'm wary around them.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"Cool girl."
"Cool girl."
College student, and that's about all I know. There are plenty other college students, so I really don't talk or focus on just one. She must be alright, though. Most students are.
Megumi
"Asian child? Oh yeah, I've seen her around! Adorable, really."
"Asian child? Oh yeah, I've seen her around! Adorable, really."
I see her walking about with that Alistair fellow. Maybe he's her . . . bodyguard? I don't fucking know.
Katharine Haynes
"Oh, uh . . . I think I might know them? Oh, wait, I think I've spoken with her before. Yeah! The Early Bean, that was it. When I finally get my hands on enough dosh and go to the Bean to buy some coffee, she's there sometimes. Nice enough, especially when she knows that I'm a bum."
"Oh, uh . . . I think I might know them? Oh, wait, I think I've spoken with her before. Yeah! The Early Bean, that was it. When I finally get my hands on enough dosh and go to the Bean to buy some coffee, she's there sometimes. Nice enough, especially when she knows that I'm a bum."
I generally tend to view those who give me things well. Don't know her personally.
Felix Underwood
"I've never seen the guy around."
"I've never seen the guy around."
No one I know all too well.
Elise Callaghan
"Sorry, not a clue."
"Sorry, not a clue."
Nothing up in my head about her . . .
Claire O'Malley
"Uhm . . . Eh."
"Uhm . . . Eh."
Yeah, no. I don't know this girl.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Some posh-looking fellow. All I know."
"Some posh-looking fellow. All I know."
There's that "-iel" again. Fishy, fishy . . .
Ethan Cooper
"Not a clue."
"Not a clue."
Seriously, I don't know this person . . .
Alfie Liau
"Heh. The chocolatier, yeah?"
"Heh. The chocolatier, yeah?"
I haven't had chocolate in years. Maybe I should try and get a few dollars together and try to buy some. Even a few pieces would suffice. I bet the kid is nice, though.
Andrew Mordekai
Witch
Witch
Basic Information
| Name |
Andrew Kayden Mordekai
| Date of Birth |
May 1, 1998 (21)
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Barista at a local coffee shop, though that’ll most likely fall apart any day now. Head of an Other activist group in the area.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Andrew wields a kind of charm found in those who teeter at the edge of order. His mischievous crystalline eyes and lithe, angular form exude an aura of dissent, as if he himself just didn’t blend with the surrounding reality. Andrew is always looking for a battle to fight, a cause to champion, and it shows in his dress. He gravitates towards sleeveless tops and jackets, to show off the runic tattoos that spiral down both of his arms, ending in runed circles on his palms. Before the Others were revealed, he’d always say they translated to “Untethered Fate” or some other overly flowery bullshit. Now they’re simply runic arrays for gathering energy in magical workings, usually Fire magic.
His jeans tend to have worn spots at the knees (and you know the jokes he gets with that) due to his kneeling at altars for workings. Or painting. Or doing work for whatever job he has that week. Andrew is simply a very active man. That shows in his muscular definition as well, as he is quite fit.
Andrew’s voice is what makes him truly roguish. His English-accented baritone is just deep enough to make your heart drop ever-so-slightly, with a slight softness at the ends of his sentences that grabs you, pulls you in, and makes you listen. He could be called a commander in a civilian’s body, and he wouldn’t correct you if you told him that.
His jeans tend to have worn spots at the knees (and you know the jokes he gets with that) due to his kneeling at altars for workings. Or painting. Or doing work for whatever job he has that week. Andrew is simply a very active man. That shows in his muscular definition as well, as he is quite fit.
Andrew’s voice is what makes him truly roguish. His English-accented baritone is just deep enough to make your heart drop ever-so-slightly, with a slight softness at the ends of his sentences that grabs you, pulls you in, and makes you listen. He could be called a commander in a civilian’s body, and he wouldn’t correct you if you told him that.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Rebellious ♦ Restless ♦ Loyal ♦ Compassionate ♦
The world will never be good enough for Andrew.
There will always be injustice, danger, and corruption lurking in the dark corners of men’s hearts. He believes that all should be free, that nothing should be held back by the rules of those that perceive themselves as “fit to rule”. Yes, all very Revolutionary, but it’s true. Andrew wants nothing more than Others to be accepted as normal citizens, and for peace, but the constant fuckery of society has kind of left him...jaded. Now it seems like no one can do right. Bosses are either overworking him or treating him like he’s worthless, protesters aren’t aggressive enough or they’re too militant, and nothing goes his way.
So he paves his own goddamn way.
Such a trait makes him somewhat hard to get along with if you’re under any other school of thought than his own. True, this recklessness usually ends in Andrew being some form of deep shit, but the best visionaries die young, right? It’s all about living in the moment and making the best of it. He is seen on the front lines of any cause, and wants to spark others into action. Though Andrew doesn’t seem to get that outbursts of anger, and...well, witchfire, don’t exactly make the situation better.
All of this makes him seem abrasive and uncomfortable, but those under his care attest otherwise. Family, friends, and compatriots all would call him kind and caring. Maybe blinded by his cause, rash, and sometimes dangerous to others...but kind. One has to wonder, however, how long Andrew’s fire can rage before it peters out.
There will always be injustice, danger, and corruption lurking in the dark corners of men’s hearts. He believes that all should be free, that nothing should be held back by the rules of those that perceive themselves as “fit to rule”. Yes, all very Revolutionary, but it’s true. Andrew wants nothing more than Others to be accepted as normal citizens, and for peace, but the constant fuckery of society has kind of left him...jaded. Now it seems like no one can do right. Bosses are either overworking him or treating him like he’s worthless, protesters aren’t aggressive enough or they’re too militant, and nothing goes his way.
So he paves his own goddamn way.
Such a trait makes him somewhat hard to get along with if you’re under any other school of thought than his own. True, this recklessness usually ends in Andrew being some form of deep shit, but the best visionaries die young, right? It’s all about living in the moment and making the best of it. He is seen on the front lines of any cause, and wants to spark others into action. Though Andrew doesn’t seem to get that outbursts of anger, and...well, witchfire, don’t exactly make the situation better.
All of this makes him seem abrasive and uncomfortable, but those under his care attest otherwise. Family, friends, and compatriots all would call him kind and caring. Maybe blinded by his cause, rash, and sometimes dangerous to others...but kind. One has to wonder, however, how long Andrew’s fire can rage before it peters out.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Summer
✔Activism
✔Strong coffee
✔Action movies
✔Romance novels (TELL NO ONE)
✔Spicy food
✔Dogs. All of them.
✘Set rules
✘Discrimination
✘Summoning magic
✘Boats
✘Push-overs
✘Staying in one place
✘Fish
✔Activism
✔Strong coffee
✔Action movies
✔Romance novels (TELL NO ONE)
✔Spicy food
✔Dogs. All of them.
✘Set rules
✘Discrimination
✘Summoning magic
✘Boats
✘Push-overs
✘Staying in one place
✘Fish
| History |
Andrew was a young prodigy, skilled in the Craft, and destined for a bright future in Coven life. At least, that’s what his parents believed. Mary Ann and Lucius Mordekai were both venerated members of the Brithonic Coven, and of course expected their young star to join their ranks at the right age. But from childhood into his teenage years, Andrew always had problems with the rules. He’d get in trouble at school frequently, always questioned why he couldn’t show his friends that cool fireball spell, and always challenged anything he was told. Once he was well into his teens, that’s when the real problems arose. Vandalism, fights, and unrest were common issues for Andy. Coven life was most definitely out of the question, and at 18, his parents kicked him out, both ashamed of him and hoping it would jar some sense into him. It did not.
Jobs came and went as he got short with customers and bosses, roommates couldn’t seem to get along with him, and everything was generally short-lived around Andrew. He finally settled with one, at a coffee shop in Edgetoun, as there were others of his kind. Witches and more Others that he could understand and talk to, that weren’t the stuffy Brithonic Witches. It put him at ease, if only slightly, until the outing. Werewolf murderers (of course the media paints them all as bloodthirsty animals) were on the loose and the secret was out. Like clockwork, human purists were right there and ready to fight the Others. All the unrest has Andrew on edge once more, a hairs width from the trigger.
Jobs came and went as he got short with customers and bosses, roommates couldn’t seem to get along with him, and everything was generally short-lived around Andrew. He finally settled with one, at a coffee shop in Edgetoun, as there were others of his kind. Witches and more Others that he could understand and talk to, that weren’t the stuffy Brithonic Witches. It put him at ease, if only slightly, until the outing. Werewolf murderers (of course the media paints them all as bloodthirsty animals) were on the loose and the secret was out. Like clockwork, human purists were right there and ready to fight the Others. All the unrest has Andrew on edge once more, a hairs width from the trigger.
| Family |
Mary Ann Mordekai | 52 | Mother : Hasn’t spoken to Andrew for a few years, though does occasionally send money under his father’s nose. Damn Diviners, always giving her his addresses.
Lucius Mordekai | 53 | Father : Also hasn’t said anything to Andrew, and most likely won’t until the young man changes his ways. So, basically, never.
Lucius Mordekai | 53 | Father : Also hasn’t said anything to Andrew, and most likely won’t until the young man changes his ways. So, basically, never.
| Strengths |
- Forward-thinker
- Courageous
- Charismatic
| Weaknesses |
- Irrational
- Reckless
- Obstinate
- Has a fairly short-fuse
The Other
|Theme Song |
Uprising – Muse
”They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us
We will be victorious.”
”They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us
We will be victorious.”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights 27B, though who knows if he’ll have the money for it next month
| Extra Information |
Andrew is skilled in Fire magic due to his explosive personality, giving him plenty of passion and power to draw from. His studies in the Circle of Sorcery are geared towards Alchemy, though he isn’t awfully skilled in this yet. Going against the natural order is hard.
Grimoire Gaming Unseelie Faerie
Member
Seen
1 hr ago
Angel
Basic Information
| Name |
Dr. Suriel Anne White
| Date of Birth |
Suriel is essentially ageless and did not even feel the passing of time until their descension to Earth. Their medical license, however, lists a birth date of December 3rd, 1990.
| Gender |
Genderless in true form, androgynous biological female in human form.
| Sexuality |
Asexual (At least, that is what angels are supposed to be.)
| Occupation |
Medical Resident in the Neurosurgery Unit of Edgetoun Memorial Hospital
| In-Depth Appearance |
Seven years ago, when Suriel first arrived, their hair fell chin-length in pale yellow curls. Now they wear it cropped short on the sides, longest on top, and platinum blond in color. Bright blue-green eyes stare in stark contrast to a perfect white complexion. As far as style goes, Suriel is just as likely to be seen wearing a suit and tie as a dress, it's whatever they prefer that day, really. They are always well-dressed for any occasion, as fashion has proved to be one of the more entertaining aspects of life on Earth. Not a single ounce of makeup has ever touched the angel’s face, making their pale features seem all the more ethereal. Their voice is an even tenor and they stand at a tall 183cm with a broad - yet relatively flat - chest, and a lithe frame.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Dedicated ♦ Healer ♦ Compelling ♦ Enigmatic ♦ Susceptible ♦
Suriel was sent here with one goal: to heal the people. They have studied and worked tirelessly to accomplish this goal and eventually earn their place back in the heavens. Suriel was more than happy to be a student and seeks to continue learning about diseases of the mind and body. The human brain is of particular interest, hence Suriel’s residency specialization in neurosurgery.
Suriel believes that understanding is the first step towards truly helping a person. That being said, they are prone to judgement and, unfortunately, they tend to judge the sinner rather than the sin itself - a personal fault. This judgemental behavior is relatively recent, and possibly a form of psychological projection.
Since beginning their residency at the hospital, Suriel has had… feelings. First it was the handsome doctor in charge of cardiology, and then the pretty ginger nurse in pediatrics. Lustful thoughts and urges seeded themselves in their mind. Suriel has yet to act on them, and sees them for what they are: sin. Yet, the temptation is always there, and Suriel was loathe to see the primary remiges or their pure white wings turning grey the last time they were in true form.
Suriel believes that understanding is the first step towards truly helping a person. That being said, they are prone to judgement and, unfortunately, they tend to judge the sinner rather than the sin itself - a personal fault. This judgemental behavior is relatively recent, and possibly a form of psychological projection.
Since beginning their residency at the hospital, Suriel has had… feelings. First it was the handsome doctor in charge of cardiology, and then the pretty ginger nurse in pediatrics. Lustful thoughts and urges seeded themselves in their mind. Suriel has yet to act on them, and sees them for what they are: sin. Yet, the temptation is always there, and Suriel was loathe to see the primary remiges or their pure white wings turning grey the last time they were in true form.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Reading, more so in the pursuit of knowledge than for pleasure
✔Sunlight
✔Flying to clear the mind
✔Quiet prayer
✔Human architecture
✔Bright colors
✔The arts
✘Sin
✘Ignorance
✘Demons
✘Death (especially among the unsaved)
✘Sickness
✘Citrus (the forbidden fruit was in fact not an apple)
✘Arrogance
✔Sunlight
✔Flying to clear the mind
✔Quiet prayer
✔Human architecture
✔Bright colors
✔The arts
✘Sin
✘Ignorance
✘Demons
✘Death (especially among the unsaved)
✘Sickness
✘Citrus (the forbidden fruit was in fact not an apple)
✘Arrogance
| History |
The Beginning
“1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.” Genesis 1:1-8
Long before Suriel came to Earth and took on an English surname, they watched the birth and growth of humanity under the Creator’s will. In the vastness of time and space that is the heavens, they also saw its death. And so was born their task: to heal the bodies and souls of the weak. The wayward children must be guided to the path of righteousness.
“1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.” Genesis 1:1-8
Long before Suriel came to Earth and took on an English surname, they watched the birth and growth of humanity under the Creator’s will. In the vastness of time and space that is the heavens, they also saw its death. And so was born their task: to heal the bodies and souls of the weak. The wayward children must be guided to the path of righteousness.
| Family |
”An angel's family is as infinite as the heavens themselves, all of God’s children are my siblings.”
| Strengths |
- Highly intelligent and skilled doctor.
- Caring and charitable.
- Charismatic personality.
| Weaknesses |
- Judgemental
- Lustful
- Internally Conflicted
The Other
| Theme Song |
Silhouette of a Life – 10 Years
”It's too late to take this back
Accidental excess
Now what's in store for a
Soul with premature wings that will never soar
For what they're made for
Why we wingless angels fall
We'll die if our wings don't grow at all.”
”It's too late to take this back
Accidental excess
Now what's in store for a
Soul with premature wings that will never soar
For what they're made for
Why we wingless angels fall
We'll die if our wings don't grow at all.”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 2A
| Extra Information |
In case it wasn’t made obvious in the personality section, Suriel is an angel threatened with becoming Fallen. They have not fallen yet, but once they indulge in their temptations, they inevitably will...
| Name |
Miles Catrose
| Date of Birth |
Like, 1850-ish?
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Pansexual
| Occupation |
Hairdresser
| In-Depth Appearance |
As is characteristic of a pixie, Miles isn’t the tallest, nor the the most intimidating of figures. There’s only so much glamour can do, after all. He stands just a hair off 5’5”, with lean muscles and pale skin stretched over a lithely built frame. Much like how an animal puffs itself up to ward off any potential predators, Miles has taken to doing the same with his appearance. You’ll never see his hair in the same shade more than two weeks in a row, and it’s always something disgustingly bright. Furthermore, his skin is peppered with countless tattoos, again in an attempt to make himself look Edgy and Dangerous™. To name a few, the words ‘INHALE’ and ‘EXHALE’ are tattooed on his left and right thighs, two black X’s just above his navel, a crudely drawn crown on his left forearm, a small smiley face on his right hand, and a trail of wildflowers stretching from his right shoulder blade to halfway down his back.
Miles’ fashion sense appears to be perpetually stuck in the realm of 80s punk rock - studded leather jackets, ripped jeans, combat boots, pierced ears, you name it. Inversely, his features are delicate and elfin, similar to those of his mother’s, contrasting the clothes he wears and the false swagger imbued in every step he takes. He definitely tries too hard, but because he likes to think he’s an expert at these things, he somehow manages to make all of it look effortless. His hair is often teased into a fauxhawk (usually with at least half a can of hairspray), and on days where he’s feeling particularly vain, he even finds the time to slap on some makeup before heading out to work. It’s much easier to act like hot shit when you look like hot shit, and the disapproving looks he earns from judgemental old ladies are only an added bonus.
If there’s one thing Miles hates, it’s standing up straight. Of course, addressing his posture could probably help with the whole 5’5” situation, but it’s far too much effort and he doesn’t wanna. Most of the time, you’ll find him standing with his shoulders rolled forward, hands stuck in his pockets as he puffs away on a cigarette. On occasion, when he can’t be bothered to cast a stronger glamour, fading bruises are visible on the surface of his skin. They’re mostly from getting thrown out of clubs after getting a tad too drunk on jello shots and picking a fight with some guy twice his size, but hey; live fast, die young, right?
Miles’ fashion sense appears to be perpetually stuck in the realm of 80s punk rock - studded leather jackets, ripped jeans, combat boots, pierced ears, you name it. Inversely, his features are delicate and elfin, similar to those of his mother’s, contrasting the clothes he wears and the false swagger imbued in every step he takes. He definitely tries too hard, but because he likes to think he’s an expert at these things, he somehow manages to make all of it look effortless. His hair is often teased into a fauxhawk (usually with at least half a can of hairspray), and on days where he’s feeling particularly vain, he even finds the time to slap on some makeup before heading out to work. It’s much easier to act like hot shit when you look like hot shit, and the disapproving looks he earns from judgemental old ladies are only an added bonus.
If there’s one thing Miles hates, it’s standing up straight. Of course, addressing his posture could probably help with the whole 5’5” situation, but it’s far too much effort and he doesn’t wanna. Most of the time, you’ll find him standing with his shoulders rolled forward, hands stuck in his pockets as he puffs away on a cigarette. On occasion, when he can’t be bothered to cast a stronger glamour, fading bruises are visible on the surface of his skin. They’re mostly from getting thrown out of clubs after getting a tad too drunk on jello shots and picking a fight with some guy twice his size, but hey; live fast, die young, right?
| Personality |
♦ Imaginative ♦ Methodical ♦ Capricious ♦ Arrogant ♦
With an ego bigger than his rather unimpressive frame, and a penchant for telling people to fuck off, it’s easy to peg Miles for a textbook case of Small Dog Syndrome. Naturally, this means that he isn’t the most pleasant person to be around. Though this isn’t to say he’s all bad - just that he’s hard to like. Callous, self-absorbed, and a little cruel from time to time, Miles can be said to be the archetypal enfant terrible. While he might not be the brightest, or the most knowledgeable, he is a good judge of character, and it takes little time for him to classify someone. He is particularly good at thinking on his feet, but doesn't often give much thought to long-term consequences.
Depending on which day of the week you catch him on, he can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. To his clients, whether they’re looking for some pixie dust (not a euphemism) or just a simple haircut, he’s always cordial, almost sickeningly sweet, giving them exactly what they want each and every time they come crawling back - provided they offer something in exchange, of course. As for those he has no need of, however, they often find themselves put off by his bluntness. He doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't play fairly, and he certainly doesn't let anyone think they can get one up on him. Miles considers himself the alpha dog in any situation he's in, but when faced with truly confident or successful people, he can become flustered and defensive, lashing out with increasingly nonsensical insults.
By nature, as a pixie of the Spring Court, Miles has always been an arrogant son of a bitch, used to guarding himself emotionally, which is something he does by being lacing his words with caustic sarcasm. He is comfortable with putting on a variety of faces to achieve the means to an end, never hesitating to mock a person’s stupidity and praise it all in one breath. Unlike his kin, however, Miles isn’t overly confrontational. He’s really no good in a head-on fight, and the only way he can ever hope to win is through underhanded means, which fortunately, is something he has no qualms about. Yet in spite of all his flaws, he has never met a boundary he wouldn’t cross. He’ll go to bat for you if you make him laugh, if he likes your style, or if you have something that tickles his fancy (weed, cigarettes, and junk food, just as an FYI).
Depending on which day of the week you catch him on, he can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. To his clients, whether they’re looking for some pixie dust (not a euphemism) or just a simple haircut, he’s always cordial, almost sickeningly sweet, giving them exactly what they want each and every time they come crawling back - provided they offer something in exchange, of course. As for those he has no need of, however, they often find themselves put off by his bluntness. He doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't play fairly, and he certainly doesn't let anyone think they can get one up on him. Miles considers himself the alpha dog in any situation he's in, but when faced with truly confident or successful people, he can become flustered and defensive, lashing out with increasingly nonsensical insults.
By nature, as a pixie of the Spring Court, Miles has always been an arrogant son of a bitch, used to guarding himself emotionally, which is something he does by being lacing his words with caustic sarcasm. He is comfortable with putting on a variety of faces to achieve the means to an end, never hesitating to mock a person’s stupidity and praise it all in one breath. Unlike his kin, however, Miles isn’t overly confrontational. He’s really no good in a head-on fight, and the only way he can ever hope to win is through underhanded means, which fortunately, is something he has no qualms about. Yet in spite of all his flaws, he has never met a boundary he wouldn’t cross. He’ll go to bat for you if you make him laugh, if he likes your style, or if you have something that tickles his fancy (weed, cigarettes, and junk food, just as an FYI).
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Clubbing
✔Mexican food
✔Cold weather
✔Leather jackets, just… so many leather jackets.
✔Cigarettes
✔Reality TV
✔Tattoos
✘Insects. Flying roaches are the bane of his existence.
✘Flavoured vodka
✘People being ignorant, especially on the Internet, because he can’t reach through the screen and punch them in the face.
✘Dubstep; they really need to stop playing that shit at clubs.
✘Mushrooms, both the hallucinogenic and culinary varieties.
✘Overpriced coffee (“I’m looking at you, Starbucks.”)
✔Mexican food
✔Cold weather
✔Leather jackets, just… so many leather jackets.
✔Cigarettes
✔Reality TV
✔Tattoos
✘Insects. Flying roaches are the bane of his existence.
✘Flavoured vodka
✘People being ignorant, especially on the Internet, because he can’t reach through the screen and punch them in the face.
✘Dubstep; they really need to stop playing that shit at clubs.
✘Mushrooms, both the hallucinogenic and culinary varieties.
✘Overpriced coffee (“I’m looking at you, Starbucks.”)
| History |
First of all, Miles would like to clarify that he was not, in fact, born from a baby’s first laugh. As far as he’s concerned, it’s just some bullshit circulated by uninformed idiots to give the Fae a bad name, and suffice to say, he’s not too happy about the whole affair.
Like most of his kind, Miles was born in Avalon, following the end of the Industrial Revolution. His parents were soldiers, part of the Seelie Court’s armed forces. For the most part, his early existence was spent in the lap of luxury, flittering from one place to the next in search of amusement. There wasn’t much a young Fae like him could do until he came of age, and he dreaded the possibility of one day becoming embroiled in the political machinations of the Court. He was happy practicing magic of his own free will; that is, until the Court called upon him to join the army.
Of course, with everyone watching, and his parents’ hard-earned reputation on the line, he could hardly say no.
Despite his original determination to do well, Miles soon found that joining the military was more than he bargained for. Instead of sending him into a frenzied bloodlust, the clanging of swords and the pained screams of their enemies left Miles cowering in fear, and soon enough, proved himself more of a liability than an asset. How he survived his first battles was a mystery to him, though he supposes hiding behind his comrades every time he was in danger had something to do with it.
He saw his exile coming from a mile away, and instead of waiting to be booted out, Miles left of his own accord, sparing himself no small amount of embarrassment. He knew, better than anyone, that he needed to leave and start a new life - an existence where he wouldn’t be judge or forced to be somebody he wasn’t. His parents were upset, of course, but that was mostly due to how much of a “disappointment” their son turned out to be. Miles had always been more proficient in the art of speechcraft as opposed to war, though all the same, he shunned the whisperers and patrons of the Seelie Court.
In the end, he found himself in the mortal realm - clad in glamour, and possessing nothing but the clothes on his back. He spent about four decades travelling across the country, before finally settling down in Edgetoun in the late 90s. It wasn’t the biggest of places, nor was it the smallest, and it was easy enough to cover up his sudden arrival with his trademark Fae magic. Hiding in plain sight was, after all, one of his specialties.
For a while, Miles found himself doing odd jobs for money - everything from bussing tables to cleaning up bodies at the mortuary - and that was how he ended up getting a job at a local salon. It wasn’t quite what he’d been looking for, of course, but the pay wasn’t anything he could complain about, and he picked up some useful skills whilst sweeping up locks of abandoned hair. Miles has been living under different aliases for years, changing his identity as easily as slipping on a jacket. Needless to say, this has caused more than a few administrative problems, but as long as he stays alert and keep his explanations straight, it’s nothing he can’t handle.
Like most of his kind, Miles was born in Avalon, following the end of the Industrial Revolution. His parents were soldiers, part of the Seelie Court’s armed forces. For the most part, his early existence was spent in the lap of luxury, flittering from one place to the next in search of amusement. There wasn’t much a young Fae like him could do until he came of age, and he dreaded the possibility of one day becoming embroiled in the political machinations of the Court. He was happy practicing magic of his own free will; that is, until the Court called upon him to join the army.
Of course, with everyone watching, and his parents’ hard-earned reputation on the line, he could hardly say no.
Despite his original determination to do well, Miles soon found that joining the military was more than he bargained for. Instead of sending him into a frenzied bloodlust, the clanging of swords and the pained screams of their enemies left Miles cowering in fear, and soon enough, proved himself more of a liability than an asset. How he survived his first battles was a mystery to him, though he supposes hiding behind his comrades every time he was in danger had something to do with it.
He saw his exile coming from a mile away, and instead of waiting to be booted out, Miles left of his own accord, sparing himself no small amount of embarrassment. He knew, better than anyone, that he needed to leave and start a new life - an existence where he wouldn’t be judge or forced to be somebody he wasn’t. His parents were upset, of course, but that was mostly due to how much of a “disappointment” their son turned out to be. Miles had always been more proficient in the art of speechcraft as opposed to war, though all the same, he shunned the whisperers and patrons of the Seelie Court.
In the end, he found himself in the mortal realm - clad in glamour, and possessing nothing but the clothes on his back. He spent about four decades travelling across the country, before finally settling down in Edgetoun in the late 90s. It wasn’t the biggest of places, nor was it the smallest, and it was easy enough to cover up his sudden arrival with his trademark Fae magic. Hiding in plain sight was, after all, one of his specialties.
For a while, Miles found himself doing odd jobs for money - everything from bussing tables to cleaning up bodies at the mortuary - and that was how he ended up getting a job at a local salon. It wasn’t quite what he’d been looking for, of course, but the pay wasn’t anything he could complain about, and he picked up some useful skills whilst sweeping up locks of abandoned hair. Miles has been living under different aliases for years, changing his identity as easily as slipping on a jacket. Needless to say, this has caused more than a few administrative problems, but as long as he stays alert and keep his explanations straight, it’s nothing he can’t handle.
| Family |
|| Tarragon Catrose | Father | 261 || - Miles remembers his father as an emotionally distant being, more concerned with his work than his family. He’s always been slightly afraid of Tarragon, and the thought of facing his wrath was one of the main contributing factors of Miles’ desertion.
|| Jessamine Redthorn | Mother | 270 || - Skilled in magic, Jessamine holds a high rank in the armed forces of the Seelie Court. Miles has his mother to thank for his own abilities, though it appeared to be the extent of their relationship.
Miles hasn’t seen either of his parents in years, and he doesn’t plan to. As far as he knows, they haven’t set foot into the mortal realm since the 19th century.
|| Jessamine Redthorn | Mother | 270 || - Skilled in magic, Jessamine holds a high rank in the armed forces of the Seelie Court. Miles has his mother to thank for his own abilities, though it appeared to be the extent of their relationship.
Miles hasn’t seen either of his parents in years, and he doesn’t plan to. As far as he knows, they haven’t set foot into the mortal realm since the 19th century.
| Strengths |
- As is in his nature, Miles has a way with people; a silver-tongue, if you will. It's easy enough for him to nudge a decision in his favour, or even convince someone of a falsity.
- He doesn’t like to brag - just kidding, he totally does - but he’s quite the talented hairdresser. With just a few snips here and there, and maybe just a sprinkle of pixie dust, he can make even the most frazzled, bleach-ruined hair look presentable again.
- Miles is resourceful, able to think incredibly fast on his feet. While his long-term planning isn’t quite up to par, he’s quite proficient at making split-second decisions that rescue him from sticky situations.
| Weaknesses |
- Has a tendency of letting his emotions get the better of him, clouding his judgment.
- Miles isn’t terribly great at fighting, which is probably why he deserted the Seelie Army the moment things went South.
- Ridiculously fickle, Miles can never settle on something for an extended period of time.
- Arrogance is a huge problem for him, influenced by his past affiliation with the Spring Court.
- Long-term consequences escape his notice, and he doesn’t pay much thought to how his decisions might pay off or hinder him in the long run
| Theme Song |
Crooked – G-DRAGON
“Leave me alone
I was alone anyway
I have no one, everything is meaningless
Take away the sugar-coated comfort
Tonight, I’ll be crooked
Will you not say anything for me tonight?
I didn’t know being alone would be this hard (I miss you)
Will you be my friend tonight?
On this good day, this beautiful day, this day where I miss you
Tonight, I’ll be crooked”
“Leave me alone
I was alone anyway
I have no one, everything is meaningless
Take away the sugar-coated comfort
Tonight, I’ll be crooked
Will you not say anything for me tonight?
I didn’t know being alone would be this hard (I miss you)
Will you be my friend tonight?
On this good day, this beautiful day, this day where I miss you
Tonight, I’ll be crooked”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 3B
| Extra Information |
-
Write Currently Writing
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Yukiko Abe
Kitsune | Shichibi
Kitsune | Shichibi
Basic Information
| Name |
Yukiko no Abe. Goes by Yukiko Abe due to time changes now. Yuki most commonly.
| Date of Birth |
1122, April 24th
| Gender |
Female.
| Sexuality |
Pansexual
| Occupation |
Tattoo Artist
| In-Depth Appearance |
Yuki takes a more Korean appearance when she is shapeshifting. Even in her true form she uses a Korean body in order to dissuade would-be hunters from her true origins and tricks. Even if she were to be discovered by someone who wishes her ill-will they may go barking up the wrong den this way.
Yuki’s voice is rather soft and barely contains a trace of an accent – though she finds it rather simple to perform one. Typically she mimics the accent of those around her, and thusly has a small British accent for the time being.
Yuki typically wears her glasses – though they are purely for fashion’s sake. When it’s warm she’ll wear jeans and a tank top, when it’s cool she wears a jacket over top – but it’s largely the same outfit no matter the weather. If she is unsure of the weather she may tie a plaid shirt around her waist – putting it on as her comfort level dictates. Her shoes range about as much as her outfits. She has a couple pairs of the same shoes that she likes and in the colder rainier days she has a pair of rain boots that she has taken a liking to.
Yuki’s hair falls down to around her upper back and rarely has anything done to it – though on some sunnier days Yuki can be seen wearing an old ball cap.
Yuki has a few tattoos, one of a fox on the back of her right thigh, on her back she has a depiction of the Great Wave off Kanagawa. She also sports a sleeve on her left arm of assorted works.
Yuki’s voice is rather soft and barely contains a trace of an accent – though she finds it rather simple to perform one. Typically she mimics the accent of those around her, and thusly has a small British accent for the time being.
Yuki typically wears her glasses – though they are purely for fashion’s sake. When it’s warm she’ll wear jeans and a tank top, when it’s cool she wears a jacket over top – but it’s largely the same outfit no matter the weather. If she is unsure of the weather she may tie a plaid shirt around her waist – putting it on as her comfort level dictates. Her shoes range about as much as her outfits. She has a couple pairs of the same shoes that she likes and in the colder rainier days she has a pair of rain boots that she has taken a liking to.
Yuki’s hair falls down to around her upper back and rarely has anything done to it – though on some sunnier days Yuki can be seen wearing an old ball cap.
Yuki has a few tattoos, one of a fox on the back of her right thigh, on her back she has a depiction of the Great Wave off Kanagawa. She also sports a sleeve on her left arm of assorted works.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Artistic ♦ Intelligent ♦ Consuming ♦ Sexual ♦
Yuki is typically rather polite and focused in on her own artistic goals and realizing them. Her identity as a Kitsune comes second to her identity as an artist. As such she enjoys the company of those who also appreciate art, especially tattoos as that has quickly overtaken watercolours for her favourite form of artistic expression. She is rather consumed by art, bringing it into most conversations or thinking about it whenever she has off time. When she isn’t tattooing she is photographing. She runs a Pinterest page that she is much too proud of.
Yuki likes wine as much as any girl who appears to be in her late twenties but is much closer to being twenty centuries old does. She tends to drink it a bottle a day, she heavily dislikes red wine however only drinking white wine. She tends to imagine herself eventually settling down with someone, though she has no idea who or what. That being said, she hasn’t slowed down just yet and is consistently waking up beside other women. When Yuki isn’t drinking, sleeping, drawing or taking photos she can typically be found going for walks or finding somewhere nice and secluded to spend some time, like rooftops and creeks.
On an off day Yuki typically just refuses to speak. Communicating with unclear hand gestures and grunts. Unsurprisingly, this is also how she acts whilst hungover.
Yuki likes wine as much as any girl who appears to be in her late twenties but is much closer to being twenty centuries old does. She tends to drink it a bottle a day, she heavily dislikes red wine however only drinking white wine. She tends to imagine herself eventually settling down with someone, though she has no idea who or what. That being said, she hasn’t slowed down just yet and is consistently waking up beside other women. When Yuki isn’t drinking, sleeping, drawing or taking photos she can typically be found going for walks or finding somewhere nice and secluded to spend some time, like rooftops and creeks.
On an off day Yuki typically just refuses to speak. Communicating with unclear hand gestures and grunts. Unsurprisingly, this is also how she acts whilst hungover.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ White Wine
✔ Art
✔ Greasy Food
✔ Seclusion
✔ Old movies
✔ Culture
✔ Attention (One person at a time though)
✔ Fuzzy clothing
✔ Fireplaces
✔ Poorly Written/Acted Soap Operas (as a comedy)
✘ Bravado
✘ Crowds
✘ Small Portions
✘ Intolerance
✘ Electronic Music
✘ The Russian Language (It sounds ‘gross’)
✘ Eisenstein Films
✘ Bears (Irrational fear)
✔ Art
✔ Greasy Food
✔ Seclusion
✔ Old movies
✔ Culture
✔ Attention (One person at a time though)
✔ Fuzzy clothing
✔ Fireplaces
✔ Poorly Written/Acted Soap Operas (as a comedy)
✘ Bravado
✘ Crowds
✘ Small Portions
✘ Intolerance
✘ Electronic Music
✘ The Russian Language (It sounds ‘gross’)
✘ Eisenstein Films
✘ Bears (Irrational fear)
| History |
Yuki stumbled in on a rainy day into a home already housing five children. They adopted her without question. After all, it was the thirteenth century how could one not adopt a poor young girl. She barely spoke English after all and while she seemed rather beautiful – she was in rough shape. “Mama too mean.” They remembered her saying when she had first entered the house. The Young’s assumed she was a refugee of some sorts. A war in the East, the poor thing. They cleaned her, taught her English.
Yuki is a trickster. There is no two ways about it.
But, the Young’s were different. They were kind, they taught her perspective. They taught her art. They did not deserve their fate, she believed that above all else. Their daughters treated her like a sister and their sons defended her honour as if she was one of them.
One day, in a market she stole a loaf of bread, she intended to use it to cook her ‘mother’ and ‘father’ a meal that night. A nice stew that she had been given on her first night with the Young’s. They were innocent really, Yuki was already older than the seven of them combined. Yet, somehow she was so unrefined, so immature. She didn’t think of consequences, of implications when she lay her hands on the loaf. She didn’t think about the Young’s in the way they surely thought of her every day.
She gripped the loaf and a balding man around the age of forty grabbed her shoulder. Before she could open her mouth he spun her around and his meaty fist found her jaw.
She’d later admit that while he wasn’t the most powerful man she had ever come across he simply had the best right hook. The thing about a Kitsune is that when put unconscious they typically do not maintain their illusions. At first, men shouted at the merchant. ‘How dare you lay a hand on a woman’, they would cry. At first, perhaps, they were right. But Yukiko was no woman. Her form quickly betrayed the trust of the small town and the Young’s.
By the time she regained consciousness she was being tied to a boulder. “The witch would drown or she’d be a witch, one way ta be sure.” They’d rationalize. It was already too late for the Young’s. A young Asian girl staying in a home at this time period simply did not go unnoticed. Before they’d get Yuki she was a fox. And then she was gone. She escaped that night, but the Young’s most certainly did not. She had warned them when they first met but perhaps even if she hadn’t been speaking in riddles they wouldn’t have heeded her warning.
She had another name once upon a time. Tamamo-no-Mae. Named after the Kitsune of legend. While she isn't quite up to her standards she seemed to be living up the her namesake. Destruction followed where she tread.
As she ran she spoke between breaths. “Mama too mean.” She said, as if to embarrass herself. She was no legend, she was a poor mimicry of one. It was the last time she’d use an anagram. The last time she’d stop and wait in a place like that. The last time she’d allow herself to get close. The last time the Young’s would see their children. The last time… Yukiko ran, and she hadn’t truly stopped. Until about six months ago.
She had already started as a tattoo artist at her parlor, she was renting the lot as well as an apartment but because of the high premium of tattoos she was able to scrape buy still being able to afford small luxuries, bottles of wine here and there. One day, it was a Saturday on her morning walk around. She spotted a young girl, near the park. She hid behind a tree.
Yuki was not born in the past centuries, in fact she was nearing her millennial birthday, and yet – Stef looked to be older. Not in age, but in what she had been through. Yuki approached her, held her hand out and waited – a distance that was safe for the girl. When she took Yuki’s hand Yuki lead her home, gave her keys to the room and made her some food. The next day the spoke and Yuki got to work.
She placed a nailed a lamp shade into the ceiling lightbulb, as Stef hated bright lights. She made a point of getting Stef a secretarial job – arranging tattoos at the parlor among other things, in order for her to be able to have something in her life besides wallowing. She set her alarms a half an hour earlier than Stef needed to wake up so that she could wake up first and have breakfast on the table for her. She went out to a local comic store and purchased a couple box sets of shows and a DVD player along with a small television for Stef’s room. She began setting up buckets, every once in a while she would accidentally nick someone with a needle during a tattoo, the bucket would catch the blood and she would use the blood in tea’s. Not enough for Stef to be able to smell it over the tea, however she would make sure to keep her nourished.
She ran through her savings quickly, and rent got harder to pay each week. But luckily with John taking up residency in her tattoo parlor as well and his expertise in the art drawing in even more customers – they weren’t out of luck.
Yuki is a trickster. There is no two ways about it.
But, the Young’s were different. They were kind, they taught her perspective. They taught her art. They did not deserve their fate, she believed that above all else. Their daughters treated her like a sister and their sons defended her honour as if she was one of them.
One day, in a market she stole a loaf of bread, she intended to use it to cook her ‘mother’ and ‘father’ a meal that night. A nice stew that she had been given on her first night with the Young’s. They were innocent really, Yuki was already older than the seven of them combined. Yet, somehow she was so unrefined, so immature. She didn’t think of consequences, of implications when she lay her hands on the loaf. She didn’t think about the Young’s in the way they surely thought of her every day.
She gripped the loaf and a balding man around the age of forty grabbed her shoulder. Before she could open her mouth he spun her around and his meaty fist found her jaw.
She’d later admit that while he wasn’t the most powerful man she had ever come across he simply had the best right hook. The thing about a Kitsune is that when put unconscious they typically do not maintain their illusions. At first, men shouted at the merchant. ‘How dare you lay a hand on a woman’, they would cry. At first, perhaps, they were right. But Yukiko was no woman. Her form quickly betrayed the trust of the small town and the Young’s.
By the time she regained consciousness she was being tied to a boulder. “The witch would drown or she’d be a witch, one way ta be sure.” They’d rationalize. It was already too late for the Young’s. A young Asian girl staying in a home at this time period simply did not go unnoticed. Before they’d get Yuki she was a fox. And then she was gone. She escaped that night, but the Young’s most certainly did not. She had warned them when they first met but perhaps even if she hadn’t been speaking in riddles they wouldn’t have heeded her warning.
She had another name once upon a time. Tamamo-no-Mae. Named after the Kitsune of legend. While she isn't quite up to her standards she seemed to be living up the her namesake. Destruction followed where she tread.
As she ran she spoke between breaths. “Mama too mean.” She said, as if to embarrass herself. She was no legend, she was a poor mimicry of one. It was the last time she’d use an anagram. The last time she’d stop and wait in a place like that. The last time she’d allow herself to get close. The last time the Young’s would see their children. The last time… Yukiko ran, and she hadn’t truly stopped. Until about six months ago.
She had already started as a tattoo artist at her parlor, she was renting the lot as well as an apartment but because of the high premium of tattoos she was able to scrape buy still being able to afford small luxuries, bottles of wine here and there. One day, it was a Saturday on her morning walk around. She spotted a young girl, near the park. She hid behind a tree.
Yuki was not born in the past centuries, in fact she was nearing her millennial birthday, and yet – Stef looked to be older. Not in age, but in what she had been through. Yuki approached her, held her hand out and waited – a distance that was safe for the girl. When she took Yuki’s hand Yuki lead her home, gave her keys to the room and made her some food. The next day the spoke and Yuki got to work.
She placed a nailed a lamp shade into the ceiling lightbulb, as Stef hated bright lights. She made a point of getting Stef a secretarial job – arranging tattoos at the parlor among other things, in order for her to be able to have something in her life besides wallowing. She set her alarms a half an hour earlier than Stef needed to wake up so that she could wake up first and have breakfast on the table for her. She went out to a local comic store and purchased a couple box sets of shows and a DVD player along with a small television for Stef’s room. She began setting up buckets, every once in a while she would accidentally nick someone with a needle during a tattoo, the bucket would catch the blood and she would use the blood in tea’s. Not enough for Stef to be able to smell it over the tea, however she would make sure to keep her nourished.
She ran through her savings quickly, and rent got harder to pay each week. But luckily with John taking up residency in her tattoo parlor as well and his expertise in the art drawing in even more customers – they weren’t out of luck.
| Family |
No one notable.
| Strengths |
- Yuki can Shift her form into that of a fox or hide her tails, appearing as a regular human
- Yuki is a very gifted artist
- Yuki can drain the life force of someone through sexual contact – be that kissing or otherwise. This transfer can also be reversed, healing rather than hurting.
| Weaknesses |
- A devout induvial can see through Yuki’s illusions
- Yuki is typically rather careless
- She is physically weak compared to most occult
The Other
| Theme Song |
Hand in Hand – Beatsteaks Covered by AnnenMayKantereit
”She follows me down to where I go
Not pulling a chain not feeling low
Don't wake me up
I can't relate to any other song today”
”She follows me down to where I go
Not pulling a chain not feeling low
Don't wake me up
I can't relate to any other song today”
| House Number |
Faraday Court 30B
| Extra Information |
Art lover, anagram hater. The name of Yukiko no Abe was taken from someone in her past and has since been changed to simply Yukiko Abe in order to confrom to modern Japanese naming standards.
Yukiko Abe
Blake Preston
"Blake’s nice, haven’t spoken to her that much mostly just seen her in the stairwell."
"Blake’s nice, haven’t spoken to her that much mostly just seen her in the stairwell."
If she isn’t just human then she’s quite young. Reminds me a little of myself earlier on in my life. I’ve got nothing truly bad to say about her though. I’m hesitant to speak with her though, after this whole ‘other’ blow up humans and hunters are starting to sound more and more alike.
Daniel Belson
"He serves me sometimes on break at the bar. I don’t get wine on break, I should mention. Daniel has a knack for the devil’s drinks. At least as far as I know."
"He serves me sometimes on break at the bar. I don’t get wine on break, I should mention. Daniel has a knack for the devil’s drinks. At least as far as I know."
Daniel’s a nice boy, despite what he may have some people believe with his quips, once you look past those you feel like there’s a real person in there who wants something. I just don’t know what yet.
Alistair Queen
"Alistair Queen. He’s always so polite!"
"Alistair Queen. He’s always so polite!"
He’s old. Can’t tell if he’s older than I am, but that only creates more questions. I think we have a mutual respect for one another, but he treats everyone so well it can be difficult to tell sometimes.
Mariska Costas
"Mariska has the most beautiful voice, she puts so much into her music and it really shows."
"Mariska has the most beautiful voice, she puts so much into her music and it really shows."
She’s a sweet young girl and if the little interaction I’ve had with her hasn’t betrayed me she has the eyes of a girl with a lot going on. That’s the kind of girl you don’t need to worry all too much about.
Nikita Yankovsky
"Nikki, she’s awesome. So independent, really doing her own thing. I respect that a lot ."
"Nikki, she’s awesome. So independent, really doing her own thing. I respect that a lot ."
There’s definitely an underlying level of something there. I haven’t gotten to know her well enough to figure out what that is yet though. Not that I have plans to get in close with unknowns like Nikki though. She’s got a rebellious streak without a doubt. That being said, I wouldn’t be upset waking up next to her.
Mordred Hame
"He comes across as rather strange."
"He comes across as rather strange."
The poor boy could use some lessons in manners. I doubt he’d have fared well in a high court. I’d never tell him that though, I think it’d hurt him a little.
John Taylor
"John is a very kind soul and the best coworker!"
"John is a very kind soul and the best coworker!"
He seems very troubled, often. But he’s a very nice man and he keeps up with me and then some when it comes to tattooing, so it’s always nice during downtime to be able to hang out with him.
Eve Lumière
"Eve… The way she talks kind of betrays my knowledge of the French. All the French people I’ve come to know talk rather eloquently, though I heard she spent a lot of time in Canada. I’ve never been to Canada."
"Eve… The way she talks kind of betrays my knowledge of the French. All the French people I’ve come to know talk rather eloquently, though I heard she spent a lot of time in Canada. I’ve never been to Canada."
She’s beautiful, there’s no doubt about it. It’s how she uses her beauty that concerns me.
Catharine Reid
"I hope Cara learns to breathe a little. She seems like such a nice girl, but the blows don’t really roll off her shoulders."
"I hope Cara learns to breathe a little. She seems like such a nice girl, but the blows don’t really roll off her shoulders."
She takes things personally, that’s always a concern. Cara could be a good friend, but she could also be a vicious enemy.
Opallum
"He seems to remind me of some movies that came out some time ago."
"He seems to remind me of some movies that came out some time ago."
Earlier this century Akira Kurosawa directed the film Yojimbo about a man named 桑畑三十郎. A man with, essentially no name, travelling looking for opportunity. I don’t like drawing these comparisons – knowing how the film ends.
Andrew Mordekai
"Andrew’s tattoos are rather beautiful. Meticulous in their design really. I wonder if that applies to him."
"Andrew’s tattoos are rather beautiful. Meticulous in their design really. I wonder if that applies to him."
I don’t know much about Andrew, but he isn’t on my list of people I need to be careful of yet, so for all intents and purposes he’s just a kid with good taste in art.
Suriel White
"Ah yes, the new doctor in town? I haven’t met her yet."
"Ah yes, the new doctor in town? I haven’t met her yet."
Rather strange place for a doctor to move to. Though, I suppose, not out of the question.
Miles Catrose
"I adore Miles’s tattoos, they were done by someone with a careful hand to be sure. I hope he lets me give him one."
"I adore Miles’s tattoos, they were done by someone with a careful hand to be sure. I hope he lets me give him one."
Miles doesn’t seem to have a malignant bone in his body – albeit he can be somewhat arrogant. It’s not the worst trait to be sure.
Mona
"Who?"
"Who?"
I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a Mona yet.
Faron Romane
"Faron strikes me as the type of boy who is going somewhere in his life. He even works at his mother’s shop, how cute!”
"Faron strikes me as the type of boy who is going somewhere in his life. He even works at his mother’s shop, how cute!”
Nothing particularly alarming about Faron, but nothing that convinces me he is to be trusted with anything important just yet.
Nicolas Black
"Nicolas is a good man doing a hard job. I know that being a detective during this ‘other’ outbreak must be difficult. I feel like maybe I should make sure he’s alright."
"Nicolas is a good man doing a hard job. I know that being a detective during this ‘other’ outbreak must be difficult. I feel like maybe I should make sure he’s alright."
Nicolas, among others, seems to me the closest and farthest from achieving a happy life. That must be hard on him.
Maggie Spencer-Adeyemi
"That reminds me! I have to get Maggie to take a look at my tulips! I heard she’s really good with gardening."
"That reminds me! I have to get Maggie to take a look at my tulips! I heard she’s really good with gardening."
I heard she’s really good at gardening!
Megumi
"Ah yes. She’s very cute, rather smart for her age too."
"Ah yes. She’s very cute, rather smart for her age too."
Hopefully Megumi is doing alright, I have seen her a few times now around town but not her parents yet.
Katherine Haynes
"Poor girl, I’ve only seen her once but she seemed to be having a truly bad day."
"Poor girl, I’ve only seen her once but she seemed to be having a truly bad day."
I hope she’s alright.
Felicia Underwood
"Felix is a beautiful young woman, without a doubt."
"Felix is a beautiful young woman, without a doubt."
I don’t know all that much about her, but she seems nice.
Elise Callaghan
"Elise seems troubled, by what I’m not sure. I’ve never actually seen her have a conversation with someone. I’d go and talk to her sometime, but I’m afraid it’s not my place…"
"Elise seems troubled, by what I’m not sure. I’ve never actually seen her have a conversation with someone. I’d go and talk to her sometime, but I’m afraid it’s not my place…"
She reminds me of myself in all the wrong ways. That is something to be as aware of as possible. While I don’t believe she is a Kitsune I think it’d be smarter for me to gain her friendship rather than wait to find out who she is. Also she's cute, really cute.
Ari Amari
"He called me little girl once."
"He called me little girl once."
I took pause in that one, honestly. But I suppose Edgetoun is attracting folks from all over, and if I'm here I shouldn't be too surprised. He seems to be into cats, so he's definitely somewhat cleared in my books.
coGM
rudy will be placed here too when finished
| Name |
| Date of Birth |
| Gender |
| Sexuality |
| Occupation |
| In-Depth Appearance |
| Personality |
| Likes & Dislikes |
| History |
| Family |
| Strengths |
| Weaknesses |
| Theme Song |
| House Number |
| Extra Information |
| Name |
| Date of Birth |
| Gender |
| Sexuality |
| Occupation |
| In-Depth Appearance |
| Personality |
| Likes & Dislikes |
| History |
| Family |
| Strengths |
| Weaknesses |
| Theme Song |
| House Number |
| Extra Information |
| Name |
Mona
| Date of Birth |
Forgotten
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Forgotten
| In-Depth Appearance |
"Huh, what? I do not look like the Mona Lisa!"
Faceless at first glance, bland at the next. Mona is not particularly eye catching, to say the least. In her after-life she has assumed the often forgettable body of a ghost, appearing almost translucent and formless in certain lights. Even when her ghost-ness isn't notable, she is rather stark, baring the usual pale skin and dark hair of most Londoners. Full lips and white cheeks are often pulled back into a spacey grin, even if she has no reason to smile, and those close enough to view her face would be able to count the gathering of light freckles that bridge over her nose.
If there were anything to notice about Mona, it would probably be her eyes. From afar they aren't much, just a dull hazel, but when hit by the light they burst into a mixture of blue and brown. Expressions and her true feelings play easily through her eyes, though she has yet to realize this fact about herself. Everything else above her face, from her gentle jaw to her wide forehead, is framed by a dark bob and hidden way behind bangs. Due to her ghost nature, every part of her body, excluding her eyes, is monochromatic.
Mona is of average height, standing a mere five feet and four inches off the ground when standing, though she often floats a few extra inches to give the illusion of height. Of course, she is weightless, and even if she did have some depth it wouldn't be much due to her frail, thin figure. Her fashion sense is wildly uneventful, jeans, work boots, and graphic tees make up most of her after-life and she really wouldn't have it any other way.
Faceless at first glance, bland at the next. Mona is not particularly eye catching, to say the least. In her after-life she has assumed the often forgettable body of a ghost, appearing almost translucent and formless in certain lights. Even when her ghost-ness isn't notable, she is rather stark, baring the usual pale skin and dark hair of most Londoners. Full lips and white cheeks are often pulled back into a spacey grin, even if she has no reason to smile, and those close enough to view her face would be able to count the gathering of light freckles that bridge over her nose.
If there were anything to notice about Mona, it would probably be her eyes. From afar they aren't much, just a dull hazel, but when hit by the light they burst into a mixture of blue and brown. Expressions and her true feelings play easily through her eyes, though she has yet to realize this fact about herself. Everything else above her face, from her gentle jaw to her wide forehead, is framed by a dark bob and hidden way behind bangs. Due to her ghost nature, every part of her body, excluding her eyes, is monochromatic.
Mona is of average height, standing a mere five feet and four inches off the ground when standing, though she often floats a few extra inches to give the illusion of height. Of course, she is weightless, and even if she did have some depth it wouldn't be much due to her frail, thin figure. Her fashion sense is wildly uneventful, jeans, work boots, and graphic tees make up most of her after-life and she really wouldn't have it any other way.
| Personality |
♦ Spacey ♦ Forgettable ♦ Dishonest ♦ Heart of Gold ♦
To describe Mona in words would be like giving a verbal personality to the wind itself. They both blow in and out of places with a single gust, sometimes silent, sometimes howling, always chilling. Those who are able to catch the breeze, perhaps by seeing the kicking up of leaves or the rustling of the branches above, are not often humbled or impressed by it. This very feeling goes towards Mona as well. She is unnervingly stark at first glance, so easily forgettable that most probably don't even mindlessly dream of her face like they would with other strangers. And her quiet, spacey attitude definitely doesn't help her blandness. She seems to find much more enjoyment in daydreaming than the ever sought human interaction most crave. Her mind, after all, is much more colorful than the dreary streets of London will ever be.
Just because she is flighty doesn't mean Mona is emotionless. On most occasions where she is surrounded by good vibes and good friends she can be particularly smiley, often laughing at nothing at all just to enjoy the feeling of laughter. Happiness is her favorite emotion, and even when she is feeling glum Mona would never allow another soul to know. Her sadness is her own, her rage is her own. The wind would never let others in on its sorrow, and Mona is the same way. The wind is solitary and lonesome, and so is Mona. But she doesn't mind it, there are times when she in fact adores to be alone. When she daydreams or sleeps, when she is cleaning or singing too loudly to her music, those are her loneliest times as well as her happiest.
Rage is an emotion Mona doesn't feel often, but, like a brewing storm, everything that annoys her in life is often stored away to be expelled later in a variety of slurs and floating objects. Her sorrow forms in similar ways, with huffed sighs and gales that come from nowhere. Mona, again, dislikes showing off negative emotions, and because of this she has developed an unhealthy habit of going completely mute when feeling bottled up. She will take out her emotions when alone, either by screaming in an empty room or crying into a pillow she can barely grab. Mona is a storm of a dead-person, even if she hates to think of herself that way.
Just because she is flighty doesn't mean Mona is emotionless. On most occasions where she is surrounded by good vibes and good friends she can be particularly smiley, often laughing at nothing at all just to enjoy the feeling of laughter. Happiness is her favorite emotion, and even when she is feeling glum Mona would never allow another soul to know. Her sadness is her own, her rage is her own. The wind would never let others in on its sorrow, and Mona is the same way. The wind is solitary and lonesome, and so is Mona. But she doesn't mind it, there are times when she in fact adores to be alone. When she daydreams or sleeps, when she is cleaning or singing too loudly to her music, those are her loneliest times as well as her happiest.
Rage is an emotion Mona doesn't feel often, but, like a brewing storm, everything that annoys her in life is often stored away to be expelled later in a variety of slurs and floating objects. Her sorrow forms in similar ways, with huffed sighs and gales that come from nowhere. Mona, again, dislikes showing off negative emotions, and because of this she has developed an unhealthy habit of going completely mute when feeling bottled up. She will take out her emotions when alone, either by screaming in an empty room or crying into a pillow she can barely grab. Mona is a storm of a dead-person, even if she hates to think of herself that way.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Tarot cards, palm reading, dream reading... Basically anything occult.
✔Daydreaming (of a better world or day, usually)
✔Graffiti, both viewing and creating.
✔Spacing out, lazing around, sleeping.
✔Daytime television (especially soap operas)
✔Listening to others talk
✔Acting Lying
✔Birds and bird watching.
✘Cats AND dogs ("they're bloody frightening!")
✘Darkness, especially in enclosed rooms.
✘Horror movies, romance movies, movies in general really.
✘Mediums. They're noisy.
✘Police and other forms of authority.
✘Elderly people.
✘Food and watching/hearing people eat said food
✘Cloudy days.
✔Daydreaming (of a better world or day, usually)
✔Graffiti, both viewing and creating.
✔Spacing out, lazing around, sleeping.
✔Daytime television (especially soap operas)
✔Listening to others talk
✔Acting Lying
✔Birds and bird watching.
✘Cats AND dogs ("they're bloody frightening!")
✘Darkness, especially in enclosed rooms.
✘Horror movies, romance movies, movies in general really.
✘Mediums. They're noisy.
✘Police and other forms of authority.
✘Elderly people.
✘Food and watching/hearing people eat said food
✘Cloudy days.
| History |
dark dark dark dark dark why is it so dark
please help me
im scared
it hurts
dark dark dark
bang
Mona woke up one day on the floor of an abandoned house with a simple case of amnesia. She was nameless, aching, and alone, just like the house she was left behind in. Days turned to weeks, and she prowled through that empty house with no rhyme or reason, moaning and groaning over her aching head. She moaned so loud that, apparently, it attracted the attention of another person. Well, another ghost, a ghost who introduced themselves as 'Luce'. Luce, after failing to get a name out of her, gave her the nick name Mona and then went on to explain her situation.
Needless to say, the new discovery of her now dead state stunned and angered Mona. She eventually left the house behind and found herself wandering the streets of London, rediscovering familiar but still fuzzy street names and faces, old fears, and so much more. Time was at a stand still for her, until she happened upon Edgetoun. Friendly spirits and supernaturals alike attracted her to stay, and she has been living in a small loft with two mediums ever since.
please help me
im scared
it hurts
dark dark dark
bang
Mona woke up one day on the floor of an abandoned house with a simple case of amnesia. She was nameless, aching, and alone, just like the house she was left behind in. Days turned to weeks, and she prowled through that empty house with no rhyme or reason, moaning and groaning over her aching head. She moaned so loud that, apparently, it attracted the attention of another person. Well, another ghost, a ghost who introduced themselves as 'Luce'. Luce, after failing to get a name out of her, gave her the nick name Mona and then went on to explain her situation.
Needless to say, the new discovery of her now dead state stunned and angered Mona. She eventually left the house behind and found herself wandering the streets of London, rediscovering familiar but still fuzzy street names and faces, old fears, and so much more. Time was at a stand still for her, until she happened upon Edgetoun. Friendly spirits and supernaturals alike attracted her to stay, and she has been living in a small loft with two mediums ever since.
| Family |
Forgotten
| Strengths |
- Generous
- Unassuming
- Dreamer
| Weaknesses |
- Dishonest
- Stark
- Easily frightened
- Lazy
| Theme Song |
Ghosting – Mother Mother
”I won't put white into your hair
I won't make noises in your stairs
I will be kind and I will be sweet
If you stop staring straight through me”
”I won't put white into your hair
I won't make noises in your stairs
I will be kind and I will be sweet
If you stop staring straight through me”
| House Number |
25B Faraday Heights
| Extra Information |
Doesn't really understand much of anything. Mona is basically relearning life during the course of this rp.
| Name |
Faron "Fay" Beryl Romane
| Date of Birth |
October 31st, 1997
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Cashier at his mother's shop Blue Lily, Lily Blue. Faron also does a variety of odd jobs just for the experience.
| In-Depth Appearance |
He's the Witch's son, the Witch's son, the Witch's son!
At least, that's what everyone call hims. Faron often rolled his eyes at the name because, a) it was true, and he couldn't change it, b) there were more witches in the world than just his mother, and c) he couldn't see how he could be insulted by such a thing. Faron's witch of a mother blessed him not only with innate spiritual abilities but stunning features and a dazzling attitude towards life. His father though, a faceless man to him, left behind for Faron a strong jaw and broad shoulders. This combination of genes presents itself through Faron in alien ways.
Hair once kept mousy and short has since blossomed into an ever crazed mane around Faron's face. He normally keeps his hair tied behind his head, and though he complains about it getting in his eyes or mouth during his work hours he wouldn't dare cut it. It manages to frame his strong-jawed face just in a way that makes him attractive.... At least, that's what his mother says. Days spent sleeping in the sun has gifted even a London-born witch like himself an averagely healthy skin tone and quite a few freckles that are only seen in certain lights. Faron's face is held expertly together with nerves and skin and bone, painted in such a way that he could appear quite girly to certain eyes. Strong cheek bones and full lips are the main basis for this illusion. Luckily for him, though growing facial hair is no issue, and this alone is enough to give him the look of a grizzled, normally high hiker.
Faron is tall, standing high above most at a healthy 6'4". He keeps his weight under wraps, though most assume he is well over 150lbs. Due to his interest in adventuring through green groves and hidden alleyways, Faron is often caught with bruises and cuts on his arms and legs, and scabs coat his knees like some kind of sick ornaments. Clothing wise, Faron prefers comfortable t-shirts and skinny jeans. Muted rainbows and stripes are his favorite designs.
At least, that's what everyone call hims. Faron often rolled his eyes at the name because, a) it was true, and he couldn't change it, b) there were more witches in the world than just his mother, and c) he couldn't see how he could be insulted by such a thing. Faron's witch of a mother blessed him not only with innate spiritual abilities but stunning features and a dazzling attitude towards life. His father though, a faceless man to him, left behind for Faron a strong jaw and broad shoulders. This combination of genes presents itself through Faron in alien ways.
Hair once kept mousy and short has since blossomed into an ever crazed mane around Faron's face. He normally keeps his hair tied behind his head, and though he complains about it getting in his eyes or mouth during his work hours he wouldn't dare cut it. It manages to frame his strong-jawed face just in a way that makes him attractive.... At least, that's what his mother says. Days spent sleeping in the sun has gifted even a London-born witch like himself an averagely healthy skin tone and quite a few freckles that are only seen in certain lights. Faron's face is held expertly together with nerves and skin and bone, painted in such a way that he could appear quite girly to certain eyes. Strong cheek bones and full lips are the main basis for this illusion. Luckily for him, though growing facial hair is no issue, and this alone is enough to give him the look of a grizzled, normally high hiker.
Faron is tall, standing high above most at a healthy 6'4". He keeps his weight under wraps, though most assume he is well over 150lbs. Due to his interest in adventuring through green groves and hidden alleyways, Faron is often caught with bruises and cuts on his arms and legs, and scabs coat his knees like some kind of sick ornaments. Clothing wise, Faron prefers comfortable t-shirts and skinny jeans. Muted rainbows and stripes are his favorite designs.
| Personality |
♦ Spiritual ♦ Air-headed ♦ Obsessive ♦ Genuine ♦
"Oh, that Faron! What a bloody idiot!"
"Wouldn't a fuckin' Witch's son be smarter?"
Faron has been called an idiot through most school life, and for good reason. He trips over his own two feet, asks the most obvious of questions, and gawks in confusion when other people realize his stupidity and make fun of him for it. He has since grown out of his initial obliviousness (kinda) once he realized he had inherited some of his mother's magic. A wish to hone his skills has led him to studying, long and harder for hours a day, and this new practice gave him some cleverness and some skills to use against others. Sadly, he is still a bit of an airhead, and still the clumsiest being in the world.
Around friends and family Faron is quite kind, acting as a sort of mother figure. He worries for the sake of others and always seems to have whatever they need in his wallet, band aids and painkillers included. Being the son of Opal Romane gave him this carefulness, perhaps, because she is as motherly as they come. Faron himself learns things through experience, and growing up with such an overbearing parent rubbed off on him quite cleanly, giving him the skills of a house wife and the worries of a flighty mother hen. If anyone is in need, Fay will be there, bringing a smile and advice and anything they could use in their life because that is how much he values others. Life is life, no matter how weak or powerful it is.
When it comes to his studies, Faron is extremely studious and closed-minded. He could spends day alone in his room, enthralled in the studies of some long dead witch, obsessed with gaining the skills they possessed. The pressure of the witch community and his mother has led him to study the arcane arts to a dangerous degree. He has attempted spells using his own blood and flesh, which ultimately ended up with a few house fires and ever lasting scars. This obsession has been deemed unhealthy by both his mother and the various doctors he was assigned to visit, and this simple fact can make him a bit irritable. His usual chill persona can shift if someone gets in the way of his studies, and he has been said to actually get mad at those who dare interrupt him. And a mad Faron is a rare and frightening sight to see.
Other than all that, Faron is a cheery individual. He is kind to strangers and friends alike and is more than willing to help those in need. He can be a bit overbearing, but that is just his nature. Fay is hopeless air headed and clumsy, and normally high if out and about for no particular reason, but that's fine because it's who he is, and nothing can change that.
"Wouldn't a fuckin' Witch's son be smarter?"
Faron has been called an idiot through most school life, and for good reason. He trips over his own two feet, asks the most obvious of questions, and gawks in confusion when other people realize his stupidity and make fun of him for it. He has since grown out of his initial obliviousness (kinda) once he realized he had inherited some of his mother's magic. A wish to hone his skills has led him to studying, long and harder for hours a day, and this new practice gave him some cleverness and some skills to use against others. Sadly, he is still a bit of an airhead, and still the clumsiest being in the world.
Around friends and family Faron is quite kind, acting as a sort of mother figure. He worries for the sake of others and always seems to have whatever they need in his wallet, band aids and painkillers included. Being the son of Opal Romane gave him this carefulness, perhaps, because she is as motherly as they come. Faron himself learns things through experience, and growing up with such an overbearing parent rubbed off on him quite cleanly, giving him the skills of a house wife and the worries of a flighty mother hen. If anyone is in need, Fay will be there, bringing a smile and advice and anything they could use in their life because that is how much he values others. Life is life, no matter how weak or powerful it is.
When it comes to his studies, Faron is extremely studious and closed-minded. He could spends day alone in his room, enthralled in the studies of some long dead witch, obsessed with gaining the skills they possessed. The pressure of the witch community and his mother has led him to study the arcane arts to a dangerous degree. He has attempted spells using his own blood and flesh, which ultimately ended up with a few house fires and ever lasting scars. This obsession has been deemed unhealthy by both his mother and the various doctors he was assigned to visit, and this simple fact can make him a bit irritable. His usual chill persona can shift if someone gets in the way of his studies, and he has been said to actually get mad at those who dare interrupt him. And a mad Faron is a rare and frightening sight to see.
Other than all that, Faron is a cheery individual. He is kind to strangers and friends alike and is more than willing to help those in need. He can be a bit overbearing, but that is just his nature. Fay is hopeless air headed and clumsy, and normally high if out and about for no particular reason, but that's fine because it's who he is, and nothing can change that.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Candles, scented or not. Likes to watch the flames flicker.
✔Gems, stones, rocks, anything that can hold energy really.
✔Animals, especially cats and corvids.
✔Bathing (with homemade bath bombs!)
✔Smoking, mostly marijuana, sometimes just regular cigarettes.
✔Spiritual anything, music, clothes, books, ect.
✔Studying magic, mostly clairvoyance because of his mother.
✔Crowds, friendly people in general.
✘Technology, he can't understand it.
✘Planes, trains and automobiles! He's terrified of all loud, big, mechanical objects.
✘People who insult his loved ones.
✘Skeptics
✘Sudden, loud noises.
✘Overly excited people, they tire him out.
✘Thinking of his future.
✘His own magic, his own dreams.
✔Gems, stones, rocks, anything that can hold energy really.
✔Animals, especially cats and corvids.
✔Bathing (with homemade bath bombs!)
✔Smoking, mostly marijuana, sometimes just regular cigarettes.
✔Spiritual anything, music, clothes, books, ect.
✔Studying magic, mostly clairvoyance because of his mother.
✔Crowds, friendly people in general.
✘Technology, he can't understand it.
✘Planes, trains and automobiles! He's terrified of all loud, big, mechanical objects.
✘People who insult his loved ones.
✘Skeptics
✘Sudden, loud noises.
✘Overly excited people, they tire him out.
✘Thinking of his future.
✘His own magic, his own dreams.
| History |
Faron was brought into this world without a father and with a sense of hope, because he was Opal Romane's son. Opal, being the right-hand lady to the head of The Brithonic Coven, gifted Faron first with the idea of being some kind of popular figure head in the future, and the the thought of having powers similar to her's. Clairvoyance, to see the future. Faron became obsessed with the idea of being like his mother, beautiful and powerful, but as he grew older he realized he had another kind of magic within in.
Spirits whispered in his ears, distant voices of the dead, and knowledge unfurled in his mind as he grew into his teen years. He wasn't a clairvoyant like his mother, but a medium. A portal for the spirits around them all. And not only were his powers unwanted but they were also difficult to control. He lost sleep listening to those distant voices, and accidentally summoned a few poltergeist typhoons to classrooms where he was feeling a bit trapped.
After graduating high school, Fay spent most of his time studying the magic he could not obtain and working in his mother's shop. With his unruly powers, the other witches began to see him as nothing more than a freeloader kid. The future became a taboo subject in the Romane household. Faron spoke less and less to his mother, mind focused instead on staying calm even as the weight of everything threatened to strangle him, and then one night he said out right.
"I can't stay here. I'll suffocate. I'm moving out."
London treated him well. Being an Irish born kid, he hadn't spent too much time wandering the streets after their move a few years prior, but after he moved out it became his life goal to memorize every alleyway and street corner and shop. To be completely honest, the first week after he moved out Fay was basically homeless. He slept at friends' houses until he found a place in Edgetoun with a very pretty cop as a roommate. For now, it would do. This new life would be enough to clear his mind.
Spirits whispered in his ears, distant voices of the dead, and knowledge unfurled in his mind as he grew into his teen years. He wasn't a clairvoyant like his mother, but a medium. A portal for the spirits around them all. And not only were his powers unwanted but they were also difficult to control. He lost sleep listening to those distant voices, and accidentally summoned a few poltergeist typhoons to classrooms where he was feeling a bit trapped.
After graduating high school, Fay spent most of his time studying the magic he could not obtain and working in his mother's shop. With his unruly powers, the other witches began to see him as nothing more than a freeloader kid. The future became a taboo subject in the Romane household. Faron spoke less and less to his mother, mind focused instead on staying calm even as the weight of everything threatened to strangle him, and then one night he said out right.
"I can't stay here. I'll suffocate. I'm moving out."
London treated him well. Being an Irish born kid, he hadn't spent too much time wandering the streets after their move a few years prior, but after he moved out it became his life goal to memorize every alleyway and street corner and shop. To be completely honest, the first week after he moved out Fay was basically homeless. He slept at friends' houses until he found a place in Edgetoun with a very pretty cop as a roommate. For now, it would do. This new life would be enough to clear his mind.
| Family |
Opal Romane, Mother (47): A woman blessed with a brilliant mind and the powers to match. She is the single mother to Faron and the proud owner of Blue Lily, Lily Blue, a popular tourist pit stop and witchy ingredients shop located just off of Piccadilly Circus. Opal herself is a master of Divination and offers tarot readings and psychic advice for a price to mortals and supernatural beings alike. Faron loves her more than life itself, though there are times she can be a bit overbearing as most mothers are.
| Strengths |
- Gentle
- Honest
- Maternal
| Weaknesses |
- Impatient
- Clumsy
- Weak constitution
- Stubborn
| Theme Song |
Home – AlicebanD
”Coal flicker candles swelling
Thoughs come of fire burning
Everything you made will end up broken”
”Coal flicker candles swelling
Thoughs come of fire burning
Everything you made will end up broken”
| House Number |
5631 Spruce Ave
| Extra Information |
Carries around charged herbs and stones for good luck. He often passes them out to others if he senses they have bad juju. Fay is also a hardcore vegan, though he doesn't let others know too often. Has a cute lil kitty cat named Minnie.
MiddleEarthRoze The Ultimate Pupper
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Nicolas Black
Werewolf | Lone Wolf
Werewolf | Lone Wolf
Basic Information
| Name |
Nicolas “Nick” Ewan Black
| Date of Birth |
05/11/1986
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Works as a Detective Inspector for Metropolitan Police
| In-Depth Appearance |
Nick reaches a good height of 6’2, with a muscular but wiry stature – the muscles aren’t perfectly obvious until he takes off his clothes, from there one can see the tautness of his biceps, and the slightest of six-packs on his stomach. As for his face, it is a handsome one, despite smiles being rare upon it unless being occurring sardonically.
With a angled, chiselled jaw, often covered in a dusting of dark stubble, a dimpled smile with full lips and straight white teeth, and eyes a dark chocolate brown hidden beneath heavy brows, he certainly fulfilled the old ‘Tall, dark and handsome’ trope that is often very popular among people. Dark curly hair is only just long enough to tie up, but he rarely does this, preferring to keep it as it is, and his curls often hide his almost pointed ears.
He likes to try and get a tan as much as possible, but he has two downsides; One, he’s Scottish, which means he is genetically persuaded to burn in the sun rather than tan. Two; he lives in England. Sunshine can be a rarity, and it’s not uncommon to have milder springs than summers in the strange country. Either way, whenever the sun is shining, he’ll usually get a little bit browner- which only has the one downside. Darker skin makes his scars all the more obvious; not that they were hard to see to begin with. Claw marks in sets of three and four litter his back and shoulders, and a bite mark rings the left side of his torso. Although it’s not as if a chunk was torn out, the wolf –like teeth-marks are still there... along with a disease he considers is far worse than any scar someone could give him.
When he nears his change, he gains more wolf-like characteristics; his canines are the first teeth to sharpen into fangs, although the others swiftly grow alongside them. His eyes change first by his iris’ becoming a luminescent yellow – then the entire eye becomes black. From there, more obvious changes come forth – fur, the sickening crack of his bones and they reshape themselves, and his nails elongated into wickedly sharp claws. The finished effect is not a wise one to be near to.
His Scottish accent is a subtle one, having been living down south for so long.
With a angled, chiselled jaw, often covered in a dusting of dark stubble, a dimpled smile with full lips and straight white teeth, and eyes a dark chocolate brown hidden beneath heavy brows, he certainly fulfilled the old ‘Tall, dark and handsome’ trope that is often very popular among people. Dark curly hair is only just long enough to tie up, but he rarely does this, preferring to keep it as it is, and his curls often hide his almost pointed ears.
He likes to try and get a tan as much as possible, but he has two downsides; One, he’s Scottish, which means he is genetically persuaded to burn in the sun rather than tan. Two; he lives in England. Sunshine can be a rarity, and it’s not uncommon to have milder springs than summers in the strange country. Either way, whenever the sun is shining, he’ll usually get a little bit browner- which only has the one downside. Darker skin makes his scars all the more obvious; not that they were hard to see to begin with. Claw marks in sets of three and four litter his back and shoulders, and a bite mark rings the left side of his torso. Although it’s not as if a chunk was torn out, the wolf –like teeth-marks are still there... along with a disease he considers is far worse than any scar someone could give him.
When he nears his change, he gains more wolf-like characteristics; his canines are the first teeth to sharpen into fangs, although the others swiftly grow alongside them. His eyes change first by his iris’ becoming a luminescent yellow – then the entire eye becomes black. From there, more obvious changes come forth – fur, the sickening crack of his bones and they reshape themselves, and his nails elongated into wickedly sharp claws. The finished effect is not a wise one to be near to.
His Scottish accent is a subtle one, having been living down south for so long.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Blunt ♦ Short-tempered ♦ Loyal ♦ Distant ♦
Before his change, Nick was an easy-going individual. Although still quite irritable, he retained good humour, an active social life, and plenty of positivity about the future. However, post-biting, he became a far darker enigma. Nick lost his empathy for many, the small amount he retains goes towards the victims he deals with in his work... and even then, it’s not all that obvious at times. It’s easier for him to block off his emotions and act cynically or callously towards everything, rather than actually risk his feelings by caring too much about someone.
However, if these walls around him do fall, then he becomes much warmer. Laughs and smiles will come more easily, without any remnants of sardonicism about it. Along with this will come an unwavering loyalty. If he cares enough about someone, he’ll happily protect them from anything.
As for Nick’s temper, it can be a frightful thing. He was always short-tempered, but when he really loses it, his animalistic side will make itself known. As far as he knows, he’s never hurt anyone thanks to his temper as of yet – but his new supernatural identity hardly makes it keeping it under wraps easy.
However, if these walls around him do fall, then he becomes much warmer. Laughs and smiles will come more easily, without any remnants of sardonicism about it. Along with this will come an unwavering loyalty. If he cares enough about someone, he’ll happily protect them from anything.
As for Nick’s temper, it can be a frightful thing. He was always short-tempered, but when he really loses it, his animalistic side will make itself known. As far as he knows, he’s never hurt anyone thanks to his temper as of yet – but his new supernatural identity hardly makes it keeping it under wraps easy.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Cats (Yes, laugh up the irony)
✔Getting blind drunk, usually with some kind of cheap whiskey.
✔Cigarettes
✔Shortbread
✔Midnight Runs
✔Cooking
✔Playing the piano, not that he gets around to it much these days.
✔Sunshine and hot weather
✔Singing in the shower
✘Flying
✘Hospitals
✘Deep water
✘His Scars
✘Werewolves, and a majority of other supes.
✘Abusers – be it of men, women, children, or drugs
✘Letting his walls down.
✘Ignorance
✔Getting blind drunk, usually with some kind of cheap whiskey.
✔Cigarettes
✔Shortbread
✔Midnight Runs
✔Cooking
✔Playing the piano, not that he gets around to it much these days.
✔Sunshine and hot weather
✔Singing in the shower
✘Flying
✘Hospitals
✘Deep water
✘His Scars
✘Werewolves, and a majority of other supes.
✘Abusers – be it of men, women, children, or drugs
✘Letting his walls down.
✘Ignorance
| History |
Nicolas had a great life as a kid. Growing up with his older brother Robert in Perth, Scotland, he had nothing to stress about. He had a loving family, did well in school, kissed his first girl at thirteen, and getting grades to go from Secondary school to College, and then College to University down in London. He graduated at the age of 21 with a Second in Criminology, and then went straight to the nearest Police Station to sign up. It had been his life-long dream to join the Police, and hopefully wipe out the crime that he saw every day, having grown up in a somewhat deprived area.
Following his brother’s marriage when Nick was 25, he met the love of his life at the reception. Saoirse Grant. She had eyes the colour of starlight and the most perfect smile. It didn’t take long for the two to start talking (With a little nudging; courtesy of Robert), and their first date occurred just a week later.
While Nick and Saoirse’s relationship went well, along with his job and his brother’s marriage, other things began looking negative. His parents died in a car crash a few weeks after his 27th birthday, and crimes were beginning to get rougher on his beat. Horrifically tortured bodies were showing up more and more, with evidence indicating human intervention... so why did the rent flesh look as if a large dog or wolf had gotten at it? It was perplexing, both to the police and the pathologists they worked with. Working tirelessly day and night, Nicolas was finally able to trace some evidence back to a location. However, his Superintendent was not interested – the evidence wasn’t strong enough to get a warrant, and they needed to divert their manpower to stronger leads.
So, Nicolas went by himself. And this ended up being the worst decision of his life.
As he didn’t have a warrant to search, he broke in – searching the warehouse he’d traced top to bottom. It was only when he exited – upon finding nothing worthwhile – that he heard the howls in the distance. From there, he’d like to say everything was a blur, that it happened so fast he couldn’t remember what had happened.
But he does.
He recalls every single bite, every claw at his skin, every single wolf and howl and even the damned colour of the fur of the one that had fucking turned him into a monster.
Nick didn’t know at the time why they’d left him alive. The journey to the hospital he was unaware of, for the most part – it was after all of the surgery, when he awoke, that things turned bad. Robert and his wife, alongside Saoirse were around his bed, and he felt sickened at had happened. He knew that Werewolves were a myth, and yet, he’d found some last night.
Not that he was going to tell anyone that.
All he told was that he’d been going for a walk, and had been attacked. That’s all he allowed them to know while he was in hospital.
While he was recovering, he was approached by a group of people – they seemed sympathetic, guilty even. After a few moments of talking, Nick realized with a chill in his heart that these were the people who had turned him. He barely heard their excuses – that it was necessary for him to be put down, he was getting too close... he saw red and he found himself being pulled from their leader, blood on his fists and on the face of the man he had launched himself at.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry. He just shrugged it off, and offered something to make the next few full moons easier – kinship. A pack, that would look after him and his own. Despite his fury, Nick knew he’d be foolish to turn down the offer. He knew nothing of this life – and simply to protect the ones he loved, he accepted.
As such, the next few months passed without incident, being part of the Zephyrus Accord, as it was called. His first turn was horrific, but thankfully the memory only haunts him in his dreams now, having fallen so far into subconscious. His fellow Wolves were kind to him, gave him tips, and he even got some other random perks depending on where the other Wolves worked in their day-to-day lives.
Except, he didn’t consider the other pack to be a threat. He didn’t even know that much about them... and neither did Saoirse when they paid her a visit one night.
Life seemed gray without her in it – nothing seemed important anymore. It’s been six years since she was killed, and six years since he left his Pack. It wasn’t easy, but he wanted nothing to do with them anymore. It was them who had turned him, them who had caused the death of his love. Since then, his full moons have been lonely and painful – he’s slowly learnt how to change willingly, but he still can’t keep a handle on himself during the full moon. Thankfully, nobody at work has noticed his disappearances once a month, heading towards one of the old prisons that are pretty much abandoned now.
Following his brother’s marriage when Nick was 25, he met the love of his life at the reception. Saoirse Grant. She had eyes the colour of starlight and the most perfect smile. It didn’t take long for the two to start talking (With a little nudging; courtesy of Robert), and their first date occurred just a week later.
While Nick and Saoirse’s relationship went well, along with his job and his brother’s marriage, other things began looking negative. His parents died in a car crash a few weeks after his 27th birthday, and crimes were beginning to get rougher on his beat. Horrifically tortured bodies were showing up more and more, with evidence indicating human intervention... so why did the rent flesh look as if a large dog or wolf had gotten at it? It was perplexing, both to the police and the pathologists they worked with. Working tirelessly day and night, Nicolas was finally able to trace some evidence back to a location. However, his Superintendent was not interested – the evidence wasn’t strong enough to get a warrant, and they needed to divert their manpower to stronger leads.
So, Nicolas went by himself. And this ended up being the worst decision of his life.
As he didn’t have a warrant to search, he broke in – searching the warehouse he’d traced top to bottom. It was only when he exited – upon finding nothing worthwhile – that he heard the howls in the distance. From there, he’d like to say everything was a blur, that it happened so fast he couldn’t remember what had happened.
But he does.
He recalls every single bite, every claw at his skin, every single wolf and howl and even the damned colour of the fur of the one that had fucking turned him into a monster.
Nick didn’t know at the time why they’d left him alive. The journey to the hospital he was unaware of, for the most part – it was after all of the surgery, when he awoke, that things turned bad. Robert and his wife, alongside Saoirse were around his bed, and he felt sickened at had happened. He knew that Werewolves were a myth, and yet, he’d found some last night.
Not that he was going to tell anyone that.
All he told was that he’d been going for a walk, and had been attacked. That’s all he allowed them to know while he was in hospital.
While he was recovering, he was approached by a group of people – they seemed sympathetic, guilty even. After a few moments of talking, Nick realized with a chill in his heart that these were the people who had turned him. He barely heard their excuses – that it was necessary for him to be put down, he was getting too close... he saw red and he found himself being pulled from their leader, blood on his fists and on the face of the man he had launched himself at.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry. He just shrugged it off, and offered something to make the next few full moons easier – kinship. A pack, that would look after him and his own. Despite his fury, Nick knew he’d be foolish to turn down the offer. He knew nothing of this life – and simply to protect the ones he loved, he accepted.
As such, the next few months passed without incident, being part of the Zephyrus Accord, as it was called. His first turn was horrific, but thankfully the memory only haunts him in his dreams now, having fallen so far into subconscious. His fellow Wolves were kind to him, gave him tips, and he even got some other random perks depending on where the other Wolves worked in their day-to-day lives.
Except, he didn’t consider the other pack to be a threat. He didn’t even know that much about them... and neither did Saoirse when they paid her a visit one night.
Life seemed gray without her in it – nothing seemed important anymore. It’s been six years since she was killed, and six years since he left his Pack. It wasn’t easy, but he wanted nothing to do with them anymore. It was them who had turned him, them who had caused the death of his love. Since then, his full moons have been lonely and painful – he’s slowly learnt how to change willingly, but he still can’t keep a handle on himself during the full moon. Thankfully, nobody at work has noticed his disappearances once a month, heading towards one of the old prisons that are pretty much abandoned now.
| Family |
Robert Black
His older brother – the pair are complete polar opposites, both in terms of personality and appearance, but they get along well enough. Since his change, Nick has attempted to lessen contact between the two, simply because of Robert’s family, and the awful idea that he could accidentally hurt one of them. However, Robert remains nonplussed - he’s well aware that something is up with his baby brother, but he’s happy to wait and keep bothering him until he actually fesses up.
| Strengths |
- Enhanced senses and physical strength makes his job pretty easy at times.
- Knows London like the back of his hand – with his knowledge of back alleys and rooftops, he can sometimes beat the Tube to places.
- Despite his gruff exterior, the boy knows how to play the piano – and sing. A surprisingly gentle voice and touch when it comes to his music.
| Weaknesses |
- Enhanced senses can make his job hard at times – especially when dealing with dead bodies. They don’t smell great after a few days.
- Probably classed as an alcoholic, not that he’d admit it.
- The constant nightmares could be evidence of PTSD, but he’d rather grin and bear it rather than look for real help. As such, he can be irritable and exhausted quite a lot.
- Although he can change when it’s not the full moon, he is still yet to stop himself changing and losing all form of control over himself when changing during a full moon.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Little Lion Man – Mumford and Sons
“Take all the courage you have left,
Wasted on fixing all the problems
That you made in your own head.
But it was not your fault but mine,
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time,
Didn’t I my dear?
Didn’t I my dear.””
“Take all the courage you have left,
Wasted on fixing all the problems
That you made in your own head.
But it was not your fault but mine,
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time,
Didn’t I my dear?
Didn’t I my dear.””
| House Number |
Faircourt: 5631 Spruce Avenue
| Extra Information |
Has a pet cat – a small brown tabby called Rex, because fuck generic cat names, it’s getting a dog one.
Nicolas Black
Blake Preston
"That kid shouldn’t be living here – there’s nothing wrong with being a free spirit, but if she continues the way she is, she may just end up being more spirit-like than anyone would like."
She seems like a spunky kid, but Hell, she’s way too comfortable hanging around Supes. I just thank God she’s bunking with someone like Eve – she can look after her. I’d like to spend some time trying to talk some sense into her, but I know there’s no point. She’s as fucking stubborn as myself.
~
Daniel Belson
"There’s plenty of mystery on the streets of London – Danny Boy certainly takes up a good portion of that."
I can’t work that guy out – he smokes and drinks even more than I do, but I can’t decide what his reasons are. Nor do I know what kind of Supe he is – my best bet is something that brings immortality along with it. There’s old age hidden away in those eyes.
~
Alistair Queen
"Hah. He fits his last name well with all the people wrapped around his little finger."
I have some form of grudging respect for the guy. He’s likable, and we get along well enough. However, he’s like a businessman in every aspect of his personality. Ever word is chosen carefully, every kind act – that’s why I don’t particularly enjoy asking favours of him. I know he’ll remember it when the time comes for it to suit him.
~
Mariska Costas
"All I know about her is that she’s got a hell of a voice, and definitely isn’t human."
I’ve never smelt someone like her.
That... came out creepier than I intended. But since my change, the scents of people have become a lot more important. And hers is a unique one, so far. Reminds me of the Mediterranean – so does her personality. Emotional, fiery, and colourful. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or bad just yet.
~
Nikita Yankovsky
"She reminds me of myself – may explain why she’s not particularly dear to me."
Nikki rubs me the wrong way – I’m still not sure why. I don’t think she takes the job seriously, which pisses me of, certainly. But there’s just something antagonising about her... it’s got to be her race. Whatever it is, it gets my blood boiling. It hardly helps that we live together either.
~
Mordred Hame
"I don’t like nor dislike the kid. Guess I don’t know him well enough to make a good enough judgement."
Seems to be doing well for himself on the music front – although I can’t work out why he’s staying in a place like Faraday Heights with the money he’s raking in.
~
John Taylor
"I like the guy well enough – but he reminds me of an elastic band that’s been pulled too tight for too long."
He seems down-to-earth and kind, but good God, there’s something unsettling behind that calm facade. I don’t know what he is, but something tells me he’s very close to the edge. I’d hate to be around when he eventually snaps; something tells me he wouldn’t be one to leave someone alive.
~
Eve Lumière
"Pretty sweet for a demon. I enjoy pissing her off by constantly ordering the cheap stuff. Little does she know I have a palette for the good malts beyond my alcoholic needs. I’ll surprise her one day. "
She can sometimes crack a smile out of me, which is a rarity for people these days. I’m comfortable drinking with her; sure she’s good for a sober night out too.
~
Catharine Reid
"She reminds me of my cat; small, cute, and very capable of clawing your damn eyes out then calmly lick away your blood, while sat on your corpse."
Despite her almost childish fire, it’s obvious there’s some age hidden there. My guess would be Vampire – which would explain why she always looks sad when seeing children with their parents.
I wanted to have kids too, once upon a time. I can understand that feeling of loss.
~
Opallum
"I feel bad for the guy – he obviously doesn’t have any skills to get a job. But he seems pretty happy at where he is."
The guy smells like a bonfire to me. Pair that with his lack of home and job, and confusion over certain ‘human’ things, it’s obvious he was dumped here by some Supe without being told which way was up or down. Damn shame – I have a feeling he has potential.
~
Andrew Mordekai
"There’s a fine line between freedom fighter and terrorist. I’ll be ready if he does cross that line."
Reminds me of a modern-day, Other Robin Hood. Except he fights for his own rather than the poor – which can be a dangerous path to take. Hopefully he doesn’t fall in with a bad group who’ll want him to use his fire magic for more destructive uses.
~
Suriel White
"Unless Heaven can magically solve all my problems like the sermons promise, I don’t want anything to do with Suriel."
I don’t like hospitals; I don’t like Doctors; and I have a very strained relationship with God and his ‘Angels’. Let’s just say it’s not only our last names that show our opposites with one another.
~
Miles Catrose
"Phew. If people were drugs, this kid would be acid. Mixed with sherbert and popping candy."
He’s got to be a Fae of some kind. The few times I’ve seen him he’s been cocky, abrasive, and yet pulled it off to be acting like an impish child with way too much energy. Are Imps a thing? Hell, there’s too many to keep track of. Either way, I wouldn’t trust him near my hair. Probably go all Sweeney Todd on me or something.
~
Yukiko Abe
"I like her. Nice balance of calm energy and mischief."
I don’t know her that well, but I can tell there’s something hidden behind that quietness of hers. Whether it’s good or bad, I don’t know – but I’m happy not knowing for the time being.
~
Mona
"Poor girl has a fate worse than many of us, I reckon."
I’ve briefly met her, and my first thought was one of sympathy. She’s a Ghost – not just in body, but in mind. She’s lost who she was before she died, for the most part. I sometimes look through the cold cases, see if I can find more information for her. Perhaps it’s that closure she’s missing that’s stopping her form moving on.
~
Faron Romane
"Gotta have balls to both piss off the magic community, and smoke weed in the same house as two cops."
He’s okay – I’m not one to be hung up on marijuana, because shit, alcohol is arguably a worse drug and I’m the biggest fucking advocate for it. Anyway; Faron. He’s doing okay for himself, moving out of his Mam’s house. Still a bit off-putting, though; living with someone who can hear the dead speak. I deal with death enough with my work.
Also, our cat’s don’t get along – which is funny, until you hear them fighting at 3 in the fucking morning. Like I didn't get enough sleep to begin with.
~
Maggie Spencer-Adeyemi
"Another Witch? Well... at least it’s Elemental Magic she prefers. I don’t want to see a bunch of skeletons wandering around the neighbourhood."
Another young girl who may just find herself swimming to too deep waters. I hope she sticks to her flowers rather than delving too deeply into magic she can’t control. I don’t know much about magic, myself; but I’ve heard plenty of horror stories about spells gone wrong.
~
Megumi
"There just had to be a poor kid in this godforsaken Other community, didn’t there? She deserved a normal life and a chance to grow up."
I can’t even pronounce what creature she is, but whatever it is, it’s unfair to her. I just hope that bloodsucker Queen looks after her okay – I’d be concerned, having a kid live with a Vampire, but I’m no idiot. I know Megumi’s older than my Grandparents, let alone me.
~
Katherine Haynes
"Word is that she’s had a difficult life. I can sympathise."
I haven’t seen her all that much, but she seems a good kid. Doing well in Uni, despite some obvious issues. Hopefully she doesn’t get too involved with her roommate – Witches may make good friends, but Activists? Debatable.
~
Felix Underwood
"What's so fascinating about the dead? Surely there are enough spirits left on earth without sticking your nose into the afterlife?"
Out of all the paths a Witch could take, I can't fathom why they'd study the dead. We're all aware that an Afterlife exists - one of the few calming reassurances I took from the Other community coming out - so why bother delving into it further? Surely there are things we aren't meant to know.
As for the girl herself, she seems alright. A hard-worker, that's obvious; alongside some serious issues with tact.
~
Elise Callaghan
"Beautiful and quiet. A lot of guys like that in a woman. Personally, I’d rather find out why she doesn’t speak."
Another uniquely-smelling Other. I’m not sure what she is, nor what her story tells. However, I’m not one to press such matters. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about her past, regardless of muteness. Seems like a sweet girl, though.
~
Claire O’Malley
"Huzzah, another witch. An irish one at that. For some reason, that makes me consider her to be far more dangerous."
Eh, I haven’t really talked to her, to be fair. I don’t think the Irish and us Scots get on very well anyway.
~
Barachiel Eamon
"Perfect. Another fucking Angel. "
I can’t decide if it’s worse or better that he works with children. It doesn’t sit right with me, that’s all I know for sure.
~
Stefani Roche
"Poor kid. I'd like to get my hands on the son of a bitch who did that too her. It's unforgivable."
I feel bad about what happened, but I've heard rumours of her... "eating disorder". Regardless of sympathy, I'll be sure to keep an eye on her. The last thing anyone needs is her ripping some poor fools' throat out in a crowded place.
~
Ethan Cooper
"He's been tempted by the "Dark Side." Heh. I can't blame him. It's more than seductive."
He seems like a nice kid - I just hope Daniel doesn't do anything to hurt him. Are demons even capable of love? Who knows.
~
Alfie Liau
"Bloodsucker number four: he seems to match his race better than the others, which is troublesome."
He comes across as innocent, but I know he's taken a few lives. That doesn't bother me so much - it's his apathy that's a concern.
~
Aila Atleo
"Aila. Young, Werewolf, jumpy, and scarred. I don’t know what to make of the kid."
I get the feeling she’s running away from something, but I don’t know what. Probably the same things as me: Death, and Werewolf packs. When I was still with the Zephyrus Accord, I heard some bad things about the Canadian Wolves. Hopefully I can get some information out of her if the occasion demands it. The last thing we need is more savage attacks being brought over from the Atlantic.
~
Conrad Aldhard
"He’s the Grandad, right? Don’t know much about him."
Reminds me of mountains. Smells like one too – of wet rocks, mossy boulders... a lot of stony nature about Gramps, that’s for sure.
~
Astrid Kitchener
"I know her Dad – and knew her Mum. Nice kid, considering everything. I just hope she doesn’t hate Others as much as Dean does."
She’s spunky, just like her Mum was. Damn shame about that; I was only a junior at the time. Still human too. Dean helped me out when I went through the same thing with Saoirse.
~
Michael Harel
"Smells like an Angel, but it’s stronger. However, he doesn’t act like one. At all.."
He seems likable, oddly enough. Excellent taste in music – there’s an old turntable I’ve had my eye on for a while in his shop. Wonder if I can haggle him down to just £100...
~
Loki van Stenberg
"The Vampire, right? Everytime he see's me he has this odd smirk on his face - like he knows something I don't."
I'm not sure what to make of him. He seems... slippery, if you ask me.
~
Talia Halbrook
"Lives in the same neighbourhood as Queen, right? Don’t know much about her."
There’s something predatory about her, I know that much. She just gives off waves of angst, and it usually infects most in the vicinity of her.
~
Emerson Maddox
"He looks like the kind of soulless weasel that defends child rapists in court, just because the paycheck is good.."
I don’t trust Lawyers on principle – they don’t get along well with cops, from what I’ve gathered. It’s always “You need a warrant”, or “My client doesn’t need to answer that question”. Pft. He’d fucking answer it if I turned into a fucking wolf in front of him, wouldn’t he?!
...
Sorry. As I said – I don’t like Lawyers.
~
Ari Amari
"Smells bad. Makes me want to start snarling at him, which is... not a normal response for me, believe it or not."
What even is he?! It’s like I’m some kind of dog and he’s a cat making me want to chase him. And I like cats.
Are Werecats a thing? I think I would have preferred that over Werewolf, if that was the case.
~
Liam Woodsworth
"He looks sick, all the time. Poor kid deserved better."
I’m pretty sure he takes meds that aren’t exactly from your local drug store, but from what I’ve heard, he needs them. I didn’t even know Dhampires were a thing, to be fair. So, I’ll leave him alone... but if I find out he’s getting drugs from another certain Other that I’ve been wanting to take down, I won’t spare the kid.
~
Freddie Hughes-Jackson
"Who?"
Do I look like someone who goes to the library?
~
Aiden Phillips
"Word on the street is that he’s a Doctor... for Others. Good on him, for that. It’s nice to know that if I ever get injured or something, I can go somewhere without having to be asked certain... awkward questions."
I can’t fault him, even if what he’s doing is illegal. Also, if I was the one to investigate him and shut him down, I know I’d make even more enemies in doing so. I’m not interested in that, considering I still have human family members that could be put at risk.
~
Ryan Croft
"Another Angel, and a good person, at that. I can’t find fault with the man, other than he’s more married to his job than I am."
Without him being Commissioner, I wouldn’t be able to get full moons off every month. For anyone who’s put two and two together and asked him about it, he just says something along the lines of “He’s doing independent enquiries” or, “Good God man, don’t you know what happened to his girlfriend on a full moon? He’s dealing with that shit the best way he can – which is taking to the streets with silver.” Most of the Officers here are pretty anti-Other, so they let it go. Thank God – or rather, his Angel – for that one.
~
Eternity Loveless
"Um... what? That’s a person? Her parents named her that? Yeesh."
I don’t know the kid – don’t think I want to, either. With a name like that, it just screams “pretentious”. And I fucking hate pretension.
~
Patrick Kershner
"What is it with this place and Wolves? My God, we’ll have to install a kennel at this rate."
I haven’t talked to him much outside of the job. He’s good at what he does, but seems pretty jumpy. I wonder if he’s with a London pack? I don’t know – kid could have been turned back in Ireland for all I know. As I said, I haven’t talked to him much.
~
Nicodem Kaminski
"I was surprised when I worked out he was a Vamp – he doesn’t act like one, from what I’ve seen of others. He even filed his fangs down. Now that is true dedication."
I really respect the guy – he makes things easier for the Others in the station, I think. Let’s just say that if it were war, I’d happily follow him into battle. He’s just that... stoic, you know? Goddamn, in my teens he would have been my man-crush, probably.
~
Anastasia Psomas
"I don’t know what she is, but she reminds me of fireworks. Gorgeous, destructive, and potentially deadly."
I don’t know what to make of her. Obviously running from something, but I don’t know what.
~
James Bright
"James... poor guy. I’d be nice to him if he wasn’t such an impatient little prick."
Nah, I’m just kidding. We get along alright, from what I can tell. He’s constantly asking about his case, but I figure that’s because he doesn’t have much else to talk about. Either that, or his memory is going. Wish I could do something to help, but fuck, he’s a Poltergeist. Don’t think they have Doctors for that, you know? I’d ask a Witch, but they’d probably exorcism him, and I don’t want him gone. Not yet. He deserves to know what happened to him first.
EsmetheGreat a swarm of bees
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
Margaret 'Maggie' Spencer-Adeyemi
Witch
Witch
Basic Information
| Name |
Maggie Spencer-Adeyemi
| Date of Birth |
April 14th 1999
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Gay
| Occupation |
Undergraduate Student in Natural Sciences at University College London | Part-timer at a cafe/plant nursery 'Windowbox' in Brixton
| In-Depth Appearance |
Dressed with a quiet grace and unassuming presence, Maggie is never eager to take up too much space, instead taking to blending into the background like a classic wallflower. Small in a way that leaves no doubt she was a scrawny child, Maggie stands at a height of 5'3 with size 4 feet and gangly arms that seem just a little too long for the rest of her body.
She's slim, an exhibit of thin arms and legs, but owns two hands rough with calluses, and a line-straight head-high posture born less of self-confidence and more of strict instillment. Her hair is thick and curly and usually worn down, save for when she's working or revising, in which case she ties it back.
Clothing-wise Maggie has always preferred a quiet and smart outfit, enjoying neutral colours and geometric patterns. Her most frequent choice of outfit is a simple blouse and skirt pairing, though like any other student Maggie also owns a selection of skinny jeans, loose shirts and hoodies, most of which are worn at work. Near all of her outfits are matched with any pair of worn converse she hoards, or a fancy pair of ankle boots.
Down the back of her left calve runs a long scar, nearly indistinguishable from her brown skin, but noticeable to an observant eye. Born in Surrey to a fairly upper middle-class family, Maggie speaks with a distinctly 'posh' accent.
She's slim, an exhibit of thin arms and legs, but owns two hands rough with calluses, and a line-straight head-high posture born less of self-confidence and more of strict instillment. Her hair is thick and curly and usually worn down, save for when she's working or revising, in which case she ties it back.
Clothing-wise Maggie has always preferred a quiet and smart outfit, enjoying neutral colours and geometric patterns. Her most frequent choice of outfit is a simple blouse and skirt pairing, though like any other student Maggie also owns a selection of skinny jeans, loose shirts and hoodies, most of which are worn at work. Near all of her outfits are matched with any pair of worn converse she hoards, or a fancy pair of ankle boots.
Down the back of her left calve runs a long scar, nearly indistinguishable from her brown skin, but noticeable to an observant eye. Born in Surrey to a fairly upper middle-class family, Maggie speaks with a distinctly 'posh' accent.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Quiet ♦ Sensitive ♦ Curious ♦ Friendly ♦
Remarked upon by almost anyone who knows her as a quiet and intelligent girl, Maggie has never been 'a mystery' or 'an enigma'. Instead she's always been like a 'constant', as if an unmovable object in an ever changing scene that slowly fades into the background until it is just an accepted aspect of the background, not striking or unconventional, and just 'there'. Because of this it wouldn't be unfair to call Maggie insipid or, at worst, bland. What's more, Maggie herself embraces her lack of distinction, having always enjoyed her privacy and holds a fondness for a quiet place to breathe. By no means is Maggie a true introvert, but she is a lover for a clear mind, something she most often finds in the single seat tucked away in the corner, and the 5am walks along Southbank.
Despite her regularly self-imposed isolation from most of society, Maggie is always nothing less than cordial when meeting new people, and expresses a friendly fondness for those few she would call friends, and a sincere devotion to those she considers closest to her. Bright and observant, Maggie is endlessly curious and a brilliant listener, and if you found yourself detailing your life story to her you wouldn't help but feel that Maggie held a genuine fascination for your words.
Maggie is however much less willing to divulge too much of her own story, and perhaps you might theorize that her eagerness to listen was due to an inability to share, or to open up that quietly guarded disposition and reveal any number of secrets that would fade away part of the uplifted chin and quick graceful walk.
Despite her regularly self-imposed isolation from most of society, Maggie is always nothing less than cordial when meeting new people, and expresses a friendly fondness for those few she would call friends, and a sincere devotion to those she considers closest to her. Bright and observant, Maggie is endlessly curious and a brilliant listener, and if you found yourself detailing your life story to her you wouldn't help but feel that Maggie held a genuine fascination for your words.
Maggie is however much less willing to divulge too much of her own story, and perhaps you might theorize that her eagerness to listen was due to an inability to share, or to open up that quietly guarded disposition and reveal any number of secrets that would fade away part of the uplifted chin and quick graceful walk.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Gardening
✔Long walks early in the morning
✔Strong coffee with no milk or sugar
✔Cult film screenings at the Prince Charles cinema
✔New Stationary
✔Patient people
✔Browsing the book market underneath Waterloo Bridge
✔Music with no lyrics
✘Very large crowds
✘Liars and cheaters
✘Waiting for a bus in the rain
✘Medicine
✘When time passes too quickly
| History |
Born into the world quietly and quickly early on a Wednesday morning, Maggie was named so for her Mothers Grandmother and for the exclamation that she was 'precious as a pearl'. The latest of a long line of Witches whose magic was isolated to the women, Maggie belonged to the Adeyemi family, a strong and accomplished clan descended from the Vodon Priests of Benin, immigrated to London during the Windrush years. Born to Phillip Spencer, a human Property Developer, and Evelyn Adeyemi, a Witch renowned amongst her kind, Maggie was raised in a comfortable and affluent household and demonstrated her first sparks magic at a young age.
Her Mother, Evelyn, an alumni of the Brithonic Coven and a pragmatic statue of a woman, was keen to fashion her only child into a Witch of the Age, a talented and powerful individual of authority who would command respect and carry the Adeyemi name with honor. Unfortunately, in contrast to her Mothers ease of skill and confidence, Maggies abilities came slower and her manner shyer. Despite this, Evelyn would not be deterred and, when her marriage ended in divorce and Evelyn granted primary custody of her child, she took every opportunity to educate her child. For years, whilst her magic grew quietly at it's own pace, Maggie was participant to endless lessons, lectures and demonstrations under the watchful eye of her Mother, learning the back to front of magical theory and history. The constant magical environment eventually showed its benefits, as at the age of 14, Maggie finally came fully into her magic and surprised many by revealing her magic to correspond more to Elemental Magic, a rarity in her family. As her Mother specialized in Necromancy and could provide little basis for an education on Elemental Magic, Evelyn allowed Maggie her space to grow and learn on her own, setting the girl to private study. Through this Maggie attained an appreciation for isolation and developed into the quiet studious woman she is today.
Leaving School with good marks, Maggie divulged her plan to move to London and attend University there, arguing that the freedom would allow her the proper space and time to properly learn all the intricacies of her magic and figure out just what it was she could bring to the family, as well as the world. Evelyn, who by this point was swamped with Necromantic contracts from all over the world, agreed to letting Maggie leave home, on the condition that her Daughter assimilate herself into the Brithonic Coven, so she would be kept safe living in the city. Keeping her promise, upon arriving in London Maggie sent word to the coven of her arrival and was welcomed, largely upon acknowledgement of her family name. Although the wealth of knowledge and history suddenly available at her fingertips as part of the Brithonic Coven was enticing, Maggie disliked the tighter community and strict rules, and dislikes frequenting the coven too much. Instead, she found herself wandering online more and more often, scouring the resources of the Circle of Sorcery and wondering if maybe, just maybe one day she could be brave enough and follow her curiosity.
Her Mother, Evelyn, an alumni of the Brithonic Coven and a pragmatic statue of a woman, was keen to fashion her only child into a Witch of the Age, a talented and powerful individual of authority who would command respect and carry the Adeyemi name with honor. Unfortunately, in contrast to her Mothers ease of skill and confidence, Maggies abilities came slower and her manner shyer. Despite this, Evelyn would not be deterred and, when her marriage ended in divorce and Evelyn granted primary custody of her child, she took every opportunity to educate her child. For years, whilst her magic grew quietly at it's own pace, Maggie was participant to endless lessons, lectures and demonstrations under the watchful eye of her Mother, learning the back to front of magical theory and history. The constant magical environment eventually showed its benefits, as at the age of 14, Maggie finally came fully into her magic and surprised many by revealing her magic to correspond more to Elemental Magic, a rarity in her family. As her Mother specialized in Necromancy and could provide little basis for an education on Elemental Magic, Evelyn allowed Maggie her space to grow and learn on her own, setting the girl to private study. Through this Maggie attained an appreciation for isolation and developed into the quiet studious woman she is today.
Leaving School with good marks, Maggie divulged her plan to move to London and attend University there, arguing that the freedom would allow her the proper space and time to properly learn all the intricacies of her magic and figure out just what it was she could bring to the family, as well as the world. Evelyn, who by this point was swamped with Necromantic contracts from all over the world, agreed to letting Maggie leave home, on the condition that her Daughter assimilate herself into the Brithonic Coven, so she would be kept safe living in the city. Keeping her promise, upon arriving in London Maggie sent word to the coven of her arrival and was welcomed, largely upon acknowledgement of her family name. Although the wealth of knowledge and history suddenly available at her fingertips as part of the Brithonic Coven was enticing, Maggie disliked the tighter community and strict rules, and dislikes frequenting the coven too much. Instead, she found herself wandering online more and more often, scouring the resources of the Circle of Sorcery and wondering if maybe, just maybe one day she could be brave enough and follow her curiosity.
| Family |
-Evelyn Adeyemi: Mother to Maggie and assuming Matriarch of the Adeyemi clan, Evelyn is renowned for her magic skill among her kind and is an accomplished Necromancer who is contracted all over the world. An example of her great talent lies in her companion, the reanimated and rejuvenated corpse of Ada Lovelace, the soul of which Evelyn summoned back to the Plain of the Living to assist her with her taxes, and has accompanied her ever since. A tall and striking woman of seemingly limitless confidence, Evelyn expects her Daughter to live up to the Adeyemi name.
-Phillip Spencer: Father to Maggie and Founder of a highly successful property development company, Phillip is a fairly quiet man who is hard to surprise. A regular human who became aware of the existence of The Other through his ex-Wife Evelyn, Phillip prefers to almost ignore most things supernatural, and has little to no idea of how to treat his Daughter and her magic. Nonetheless he loves Maggie dearly, and pays the rent of Maggies flat in Faraday Heights.
| Strengths |
- -Ecological empathy
-Patient
-Observant
| Weaknesses |
- -Unwilling for sudden change, almost stubborn
-Prefers isolation, doesn't seek people out
-Curious to a fault, lacks a real sense of danger
The Other
| Theme Song |
Dreamhead – Home
(Lyric-less song)
(Lyric-less song)
| House Number |
30B Faraday Heights
| Extra Information |
Though Maggies magic is Elemental it's strictly centered in Ecology, and shows itself largely through her talent with gardening and growing plants. Because of this empathy Maggie has many plants throughout her flat and several of them have grown so strong due to her presence that they've begun rooting into the floor and extending vines across the ceilings. Despite the fact that the plants in 26B flourish and quiver with her mood, Maggie has no real control over her plants, currently lacking the power and discipline.
When first moving to London, Maggie opted to stay in a flat closer to the city centre, but had to move within a few months due to several incidents involving her burgeoning powers, the final straw being when a neighbours sudden abundance of weed has the police calling round and Maggie quietly moving out to avoid suspicion. For a long time after that Maggie lived with her Father in his house out in Bromley, and only recently decided to move out on her own again. Drawn to the concentration of Other in Edgeton, Maggie moved to the borough and subsequently into Faraday Heights.
Maggies journey into flat 30B is short and simple, Maggie saw an ad by the building manager advertising two rooms, Maggie guessed she'd probably need at least two, and upon meeting her prospective flatmate Yuki and understanding they were 'kin', Maggie chose to stay.
When first moving to London, Maggie opted to stay in a flat closer to the city centre, but had to move within a few months due to several incidents involving her burgeoning powers, the final straw being when a neighbours sudden abundance of weed has the police calling round and Maggie quietly moving out to avoid suspicion. For a long time after that Maggie lived with her Father in his house out in Bromley, and only recently decided to move out on her own again. Drawn to the concentration of Other in Edgeton, Maggie moved to the borough and subsequently into Faraday Heights.
Maggies journey into flat 30B is short and simple, Maggie saw an ad by the building manager advertising two rooms, Maggie guessed she'd probably need at least two, and upon meeting her prospective flatmate Yuki and understanding they were 'kin', Maggie chose to stay.
MiddleEarthRoze The Ultimate Pupper
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Stefani Roche
Vampire
Vampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Stefani “Stef” Roche
Previously Isabella di Diavolo
Previously Isabella di Diavolo
| Date of Birth |
Born 12th August 2003
Turned 13th August 2019
Turned 13th August 2019
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Pansexual
| Occupation |
Does some part-time work in Yuki’s tattoo parlour – secretarial work, and the like. Is looking for some more jobs to avoid boredom, and maybe get some more money.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Standing at just 5’1, Stef is a hardly imposing figure. Her body has some remnants of curves, and a decent sized bust for a girl of her age. However, the recent changes she has gone through will be the only further developments her teenage body will undergo – pale skin which is for the most unmarred, barring a bite mark on her neck. It’s quite easily covered up with make-up or some form of clothing, but she dislikes it all the same.
As for her heart-shaped face, it is a sweet one to look at. Dark blue eyes are framed by long dark lashes, atop of which sit brown shapely brows; paired with full lips and a button nose, it is quite easy for her to look as young as thirteen at some points... or older than eighteen. It depends on how she looks.
Her teeth are white and straight, and of course, her fangs are ever present. Severly annoyed that they weren’t retractable as so much media showed, Stef has made do by trying to not smile with her teeth so much.
Atop her head sits long hair of a dark chestnut colour – light can easily pick out subtle red and gold tones within her naturally coloured hair – of which the style rarely stay the same. Some days it’ll be up in a lazy bun, others it’ll be either straightened or pulled into gorgeous waves. Depends on her mood, really.
Her clothing style also changes with the wind – she’s not really fussed on what to wear, only picking out certain outfits more carefully when she’s trying to make an impression. Going somewhere that cheap for kids? Wear something cutesy. Going to a bar? Make-up and heels, girl.
Her accent is a strange one – although majorly American, she’s tried to cover it up somewhat with a generic sounding English one; what with being classed as missing and all. But the accent slips sometimes – when she’s particularly emotional, her native Italian accent will take the lead, some Italian words (Usually curse words, at that) slipping in too.
As for her heart-shaped face, it is a sweet one to look at. Dark blue eyes are framed by long dark lashes, atop of which sit brown shapely brows; paired with full lips and a button nose, it is quite easy for her to look as young as thirteen at some points... or older than eighteen. It depends on how she looks.
Her teeth are white and straight, and of course, her fangs are ever present. Severly annoyed that they weren’t retractable as so much media showed, Stef has made do by trying to not smile with her teeth so much.
Atop her head sits long hair of a dark chestnut colour – light can easily pick out subtle red and gold tones within her naturally coloured hair – of which the style rarely stay the same. Some days it’ll be up in a lazy bun, others it’ll be either straightened or pulled into gorgeous waves. Depends on her mood, really.
Her clothing style also changes with the wind – she’s not really fussed on what to wear, only picking out certain outfits more carefully when she’s trying to make an impression. Going somewhere that cheap for kids? Wear something cutesy. Going to a bar? Make-up and heels, girl.
Her accent is a strange one – although majorly American, she’s tried to cover it up somewhat with a generic sounding English one; what with being classed as missing and all. But the accent slips sometimes – when she’s particularly emotional, her native Italian accent will take the lead, some Italian words (Usually curse words, at that) slipping in too.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Sharp ♦ Hot-Headed ♦ Vulnerable ♦ Dorky ♦
As per the fact she’s still a teenager – regardless of her new immortality – she still acts like a teenager at times. Stef’s temper can be erratic at times, almost as if puberty were still effecting her. And my goodness, it’s a fiery one – when brought forth, slammed doors and a fast rant in Italian will burst forth. However, it doesn’t really last long, as she hates the very word of “sulk” – reluctant apologies will soon follow, unless she feels she’s particularly in the right.
However, even when her temper hasn’t been snapped, her words can often come out sharp to those that irritate her. Not only that, but she is sharp in every sense of the word – not just in tongue, but in wit. She’s a quick-thinker, that’s for certain, and can easily get herself out of trouble quickly.
When growing closer to her, two things will become obvious: One – she’s a total nerd. She loves sci-fi, fantasy, all that jazz, and is quite happy in expressing it. She won’t care if someone judges her negatively for it either – she enjoys her nerd status. It’s pretty easy to be dorky online too, where nobody will suspect you being a Vamp, nor will she accidently rip their throats out. Everybody wins! :D
And the second thing one will notice is her vulnerability. She went through quite a lot in a short amount of time, and she still hasn’t gotten over it yet. Relaxing around people she trusts will show that more obviously, especially in times of stress or worry. So far, it’s only Yuki who’s seen this side of her. And for the time being, she’s happy keeping it that way.
However, even when her temper hasn’t been snapped, her words can often come out sharp to those that irritate her. Not only that, but she is sharp in every sense of the word – not just in tongue, but in wit. She’s a quick-thinker, that’s for certain, and can easily get herself out of trouble quickly.
When growing closer to her, two things will become obvious: One – she’s a total nerd. She loves sci-fi, fantasy, all that jazz, and is quite happy in expressing it. She won’t care if someone judges her negatively for it either – she enjoys her nerd status. It’s pretty easy to be dorky online too, where nobody will suspect you being a Vamp, nor will she accidently rip their throats out. Everybody wins! :D
And the second thing one will notice is her vulnerability. She went through quite a lot in a short amount of time, and she still hasn’t gotten over it yet. Relaxing around people she trusts will show that more obviously, especially in times of stress or worry. So far, it’s only Yuki who’s seen this side of her. And for the time being, she’s happy keeping it that way.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Drawing, painting; any form of art, really.
✔Listening to music (Mostly some form of rock) that is unhealthily loud. (Not for immortal eardrums, bitcheesss)
✔Sass. Lots of sass.
✔Horses & Horse riding
✔Blood, unfortunately.
✔The Killers
✔France; culture, food, language, art... anything.
✔Fire, from matchsticks to wildfires to fireworks.
✔Taking walks at night-time
✔CHOCOLATE
✔Sleeping late and waking late – she’s always been a night owl in that regard.
✔All things nerdy and geeky-like, all fandoms great and small! (Except MLP – FuckMLP.)
✘Blood, unfortunately.
✘Close spaces, thanks to her less than comfortable journey from Venice to London.
✘Waking up early.
✘Waking up early because of nightmares. Yay, exhausation! ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)
✘Bright lights – although not starting out as a Vampiric thing, it’s certainly become more of an issue from being turned.
✘Bugs – she may be a creature of the night, but moths, wasps and spiders can go fuck off back to the depths of hell from whence they came.
✘Peppers. If they’re hidden away in her food, she’ll pick ‘em out, just watch her.
✘Woolen clothing – it’s so itchy!
✘Extended solidarity.
✔Listening to music (Mostly some form of rock) that is unhealthily loud. (Not for immortal eardrums, bitcheesss)
✔Sass. Lots of sass.
✔Horses & Horse riding
✔Blood, unfortunately.
✔The Killers
✔France; culture, food, language, art... anything.
✔Fire, from matchsticks to wildfires to fireworks.
✔Taking walks at night-time
✔CHOCOLATE
✔Sleeping late and waking late – she’s always been a night owl in that regard.
✔All things nerdy and geeky-like, all fandoms great and small! (Except MLP – FuckMLP.)
✘Blood, unfortunately.
✘Close spaces, thanks to her less than comfortable journey from Venice to London.
✘Waking up early.
✘Waking up early because of nightmares. Yay, exhausation! ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)
✘Bright lights – although not starting out as a Vampiric thing, it’s certainly become more of an issue from being turned.
✘Bugs – she may be a creature of the night, but moths, wasps and spiders can go fuck off back to the depths of hell from whence they came.
✘Peppers. If they’re hidden away in her food, she’ll pick ‘em out, just watch her.
✘Woolen clothing – it’s so itchy!
✘Extended solidarity.
| History |
Born in Colorado, America to Italian and French immigrant parents, Stef – or rather, Isabella, as she was at the time – was a girl of two worlds. She’d grown up speaking Italian, only learning English when she began attending Elementary school; as such, this set her apart from the other students at first. However, she soon integrated, balancing her Italian and American identity well for such a young girl. She visited her parent’s home country a lot, growing up with places like Rome and Florence as a second home. She even had a brother, older by three years, to look out for her. Other than a few troublesome boyfriends (and girlfriends) and a very brief perky cheerleader phase, Stef didn’t really have much to worry about.
That was until her sixteenth birthday.
It began pretty nicely – the usual “Sweet Sixteen”, with her parents surprising her with a last minute trip back to Italy. This time, to Venice; a place they hadn’t visited before. Naturally, she was bouncing with excitement, despite the fact they were going during summer. The heat in Italy was not kind during those months – but Venice had the promise of cool canal rides in the gondolas, and of course, real Italian Gelato.
They’d arrived on the 9th of August, hoping to spend a good week before heading back home to Colorado; and they enjoyed their time there immensely, up until the Friday.
“Friday the 13th – let’s avoid bad luck today, I think?” Her Dad had joked as they walked along the burning stone streets of Venice. She and her mother had laughed it off, in high spirits as their holiday came to an end.
Except, by nightfall, it came to an end all too horribly. Venice was filled with alleys and narrow streets between tall buildings – a necessity, considering how the foundations in the bay were built. They always seemed safe and busy. But on that night, the one they chose was not busy, bar one figure stood on the other side. One second they were stood there, and the next they were beside her Father – just giving the man enough time to widen his eyes in shock before his throat was cloaked in red after a blurring movement from the stranger. It had slit his throat, and Stef and her Mother barely had time to scream before her Father succumbed to his own blood.
Her Mother had screamed at her to run, and run she did – not that it made much difference. Her Mother’s screams were cut off almost instantaneously, and Stef had barely gained a few feet before finding herself pinned to the floor on her back. White hot razors tore the flesh on her neck, but with a cold hand over her mouth, her screams did nothing to alert any aid.
When she awoke, the stranger was gone, along with the body of her Mother. Her father’s corpse lay still in the street, and all the shaking and crying she did, did nothing to rouse him from his permanent sleep.
From there, she realised that she herself had changed. She had fangs and her once tanned skin had become much paler and colder to the touch. And in a world that considered Vampires to be a myth, Stef went into hiding. Cleaning herself of blood and stealing clothes in the night, she took what remaining money her family had kept in the hotel room, and directed her way towards the nearest dock. She knew she couldn’t get out of Italy by any legal means, and she had no idea to go from the port in Venice anyway. Instead she found herself being aided by two Romanian Immigrants; hoping to join their family in England without getting one of those pesky visas.
The trio smuggled themselves in the lowest decks of a cargo ship, and stayed there in darkness for the ten day journey.
However, by day two, Stef felt a gnawing hunger within her. The Romanians had brought some staples with them, but it did nothing for her. It wasn’t her stomach grumbling, but her very essence. She felt like a trapped animal in a cage – the close quarters they were hiding in barely made it better. By day three, she finally understood what was wrong with her. She wanted blood. And the only source of blood she had were from the two kind immigrants who had helped her.
No... She wasn’t going to hurt them. Not after what they’d done for her.
Day four, she woke up with blood, and two corpses that had been mangled beyond all recognition. Stef felt sickened at seeing them – surely she hadn’t done this? She didn’t remember hurting them, it must have been something else! The last thing she recalled was the older one cutting his arm on a rusty bit of metal – and then... nothing.
The rest of the voyage was an awful one. Although the hunger had disappeared for now, the stench of the bodies grew worse every day. She didn’t know what would be worse – being discovered with the two dead men, or sitting through the entire journey with them getting worse every day.
She chose the latter – although venturing out as the last day drew close, Stef was pleased to see her first breath of fresh air in days to be accompanied with the smoky silhouette of the London skyline, the sun having only just set.
Rather than waiting until docking, Stef abandoned ship by jumping off once further away from the mouth of the river; she didn’t want to risk being seen.
From there, she was well and truly lost. She wandered, wet and cold, before happening upon a homeless woman, who had been obliged to help her. Stef was hesitant at first – after what had happened to the other men... but surely that had been because of the ship and confined space? Yes, she could find other sources of food in a place like London. So Stef accepted the help, giving a fake name and remaining with the woman for a few days. She was even able to steal some pig’s blood from an abattoir to sate her thirst. It tasted disgusting, but it got rid of her hunger.
Not that it helped the woman.
Only a few hours after feeding, the woman had cut herself on a stray nail in the wall of the dank tunnel the two were staying in. And the blindness took Stef again; and when she awoke, there was blood spattered in the street. She didn’t understand! Why did this keep happening?!
She fled from the scene, heaving sobs and covered in speckles of blood before finally coming to a stop in a deserted alley way. There was nobody here that could she could hurt...except it wasn’t that simple.
It was a week – and two more horrific homeless killings – before Stef was happened upon by a strange woman one morning. Stef had assumed she was hidden, but this woman saw her, and took her in. Except, she didn’t smell like... everyone else. She didn’t smell like prey. This Yukiko was not human, just like Stef – and as she accepted aid one last time, she finally found a home again.
Yuki took care of her, getting Stef back on her feet and almost feeling normal again. While the horrors of what had happened and what she has done is still fresh in her mind almost six months on, Yuki’s motherly care is helping her overcome it all.
She hopes so, anyway... and the “coming out” of the Other community has hardly made things easier for her.
That was until her sixteenth birthday.
It began pretty nicely – the usual “Sweet Sixteen”, with her parents surprising her with a last minute trip back to Italy. This time, to Venice; a place they hadn’t visited before. Naturally, she was bouncing with excitement, despite the fact they were going during summer. The heat in Italy was not kind during those months – but Venice had the promise of cool canal rides in the gondolas, and of course, real Italian Gelato.
They’d arrived on the 9th of August, hoping to spend a good week before heading back home to Colorado; and they enjoyed their time there immensely, up until the Friday.
“Friday the 13th – let’s avoid bad luck today, I think?” Her Dad had joked as they walked along the burning stone streets of Venice. She and her mother had laughed it off, in high spirits as their holiday came to an end.
Except, by nightfall, it came to an end all too horribly. Venice was filled with alleys and narrow streets between tall buildings – a necessity, considering how the foundations in the bay were built. They always seemed safe and busy. But on that night, the one they chose was not busy, bar one figure stood on the other side. One second they were stood there, and the next they were beside her Father – just giving the man enough time to widen his eyes in shock before his throat was cloaked in red after a blurring movement from the stranger. It had slit his throat, and Stef and her Mother barely had time to scream before her Father succumbed to his own blood.
Her Mother had screamed at her to run, and run she did – not that it made much difference. Her Mother’s screams were cut off almost instantaneously, and Stef had barely gained a few feet before finding herself pinned to the floor on her back. White hot razors tore the flesh on her neck, but with a cold hand over her mouth, her screams did nothing to alert any aid.
When she awoke, the stranger was gone, along with the body of her Mother. Her father’s corpse lay still in the street, and all the shaking and crying she did, did nothing to rouse him from his permanent sleep.
From there, she realised that she herself had changed. She had fangs and her once tanned skin had become much paler and colder to the touch. And in a world that considered Vampires to be a myth, Stef went into hiding. Cleaning herself of blood and stealing clothes in the night, she took what remaining money her family had kept in the hotel room, and directed her way towards the nearest dock. She knew she couldn’t get out of Italy by any legal means, and she had no idea to go from the port in Venice anyway. Instead she found herself being aided by two Romanian Immigrants; hoping to join their family in England without getting one of those pesky visas.
The trio smuggled themselves in the lowest decks of a cargo ship, and stayed there in darkness for the ten day journey.
However, by day two, Stef felt a gnawing hunger within her. The Romanians had brought some staples with them, but it did nothing for her. It wasn’t her stomach grumbling, but her very essence. She felt like a trapped animal in a cage – the close quarters they were hiding in barely made it better. By day three, she finally understood what was wrong with her. She wanted blood. And the only source of blood she had were from the two kind immigrants who had helped her.
No... She wasn’t going to hurt them. Not after what they’d done for her.
Day four, she woke up with blood, and two corpses that had been mangled beyond all recognition. Stef felt sickened at seeing them – surely she hadn’t done this? She didn’t remember hurting them, it must have been something else! The last thing she recalled was the older one cutting his arm on a rusty bit of metal – and then... nothing.
The rest of the voyage was an awful one. Although the hunger had disappeared for now, the stench of the bodies grew worse every day. She didn’t know what would be worse – being discovered with the two dead men, or sitting through the entire journey with them getting worse every day.
She chose the latter – although venturing out as the last day drew close, Stef was pleased to see her first breath of fresh air in days to be accompanied with the smoky silhouette of the London skyline, the sun having only just set.
Rather than waiting until docking, Stef abandoned ship by jumping off once further away from the mouth of the river; she didn’t want to risk being seen.
From there, she was well and truly lost. She wandered, wet and cold, before happening upon a homeless woman, who had been obliged to help her. Stef was hesitant at first – after what had happened to the other men... but surely that had been because of the ship and confined space? Yes, she could find other sources of food in a place like London. So Stef accepted the help, giving a fake name and remaining with the woman for a few days. She was even able to steal some pig’s blood from an abattoir to sate her thirst. It tasted disgusting, but it got rid of her hunger.
Not that it helped the woman.
Only a few hours after feeding, the woman had cut herself on a stray nail in the wall of the dank tunnel the two were staying in. And the blindness took Stef again; and when she awoke, there was blood spattered in the street. She didn’t understand! Why did this keep happening?!
She fled from the scene, heaving sobs and covered in speckles of blood before finally coming to a stop in a deserted alley way. There was nobody here that could she could hurt...except it wasn’t that simple.
It was a week – and two more horrific homeless killings – before Stef was happened upon by a strange woman one morning. Stef had assumed she was hidden, but this woman saw her, and took her in. Except, she didn’t smell like... everyone else. She didn’t smell like prey. This Yukiko was not human, just like Stef – and as she accepted aid one last time, she finally found a home again.
Yuki took care of her, getting Stef back on her feet and almost feeling normal again. While the horrors of what had happened and what she has done is still fresh in her mind almost six months on, Yuki’s motherly care is helping her overcome it all.
She hopes so, anyway... and the “coming out” of the Other community has hardly made things easier for her.
| Family |
Amelie di Diavolo: Her Mother was declared as missing along with herself, but it seems the case has slipped into Cold Case territory. She doubts she’s still alive, and wishes she could have stayed with her in her last moments rather than running.
Giovanno di Diavolo: Her Father – a sweet man that she misses dearly alongside her Mother.
Giovanno di Diavolo: Her Father – a sweet man that she misses dearly alongside her Mother.
| Strengths |
- Strength: She’s quite capable of ripping somebody limb from limb when she’s in her bloodlust state. Whether she can do it normally, she doesn’t know – but there’s some relief there that she can protect herself if the scenario ever demands it.
- Quick-Learner – she’s picking up the ins and outs of London pretty well, and is even learning some other skills considering she can’t go to College.
- Amicable – Once she’s settled in a situation, it’s easy for her to make friends with a lot of people, regardless of their personality.
| Weaknesses |
- Bloodlust – seeing or smelling human blood sends her into an uncontrolled, frenzied state where anything with a pulse becomes food. She’s been able to control it more now after she’s already fed, but if she’s feeling hungry, there’s nothing she can do.
- Immature – despite sometimes looking and acting older than her age, Stef has still lived a somewhat sheltered life as a human. She can be quite naive about certain things, and she still has a lot to learn.
- Age – being turned at 16 is a real bitch. She’s never going to grow up or even finish puberty. The only times it’s hard for her is when people dismiss her due to being too young, or getting into places that are off-limits to kids. However, a fake ID can easily deal with that problem – getting people to take her seriously is the hardest thing.
- Possibly depressed – she shows symptoms of the disorder sometimes, but it’s not like she can just walk into a therapists’ office and tell them what happened. Most of the time she’s okay – it’s usually just bouts of nightmares, flashbacks or lethargy that bother her.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Arsonists' Lullaby - Hozier
”When I was sixteen my senses fooled me,
Thought gasoline was on my clothes
I knew that something would always rule me
I knew the scent was mine alone
All you have is your fire,
and the place you need to reach,
don't you ever tame your demons
always keep them on a leash”
”When I was sixteen my senses fooled me,
Thought gasoline was on my clothes
I knew that something would always rule me
I knew the scent was mine alone
All you have is your fire,
and the place you need to reach,
don't you ever tame your demons
always keep them on a leash”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights - 30B
| Extra Information |
Would like some form of pet, but would have to ask Yuki first.
Stefanie Roche
Blake Preston
"I’ve tried to stay away from her. She’s not like Maggie – there’s no way for a human to protect themselves against me."
I wish I could spend more time with her, as she’s pretty awesome – and I love her videos. But I wouldn’t be able to relax around her properly, and then she’d think I’m a weirdo or something. However, she seems to be pretty at ease with the whole Other-thing going on. Would she understand if I was a Vampire?
~
Daniel Belson
"*wolf-whistles* You could cut a diamond on that jawline. I know plenty of girls (and guys) back home who would be throwing themselves at him. However, I think he’s spoken for..."
I don’t go into the bar he works at that much. I don’t think Yuki would like me going – and I’m also still trying to get a fake ID. Anyways, he lives a few floors below us, and he seems pretty cool. Could lose some of the snark though. I can easily fulfil my daily quota of sharp comments myself without him helping along.
~
Alistair Queen
"The first Vampire I met here in Edgetoun – the look on his face was priceless when he saw me for the first time. “Where’s your Sire?! Why are you wandering around by yourself?! You’RE JUST A BABY-“ Haha. Asshat."
Al’s pretty okay. Once he got over his outburst – and Yuki talked to him – he gave me some pointers on “Vamp life”. I swing by his house sometimes to irritate him; or just to visit Megumi, the sweet little cupcake that she is.
~
Mariska Costas
"One of John’s roomies, right? The singer?"
We’ve met in passing a few times, but not for very long. She seems alright, and different. I like different. Oh, and I saw some videos of her singing online – hell of a voice, but I’m not really into that genre of music.
~
Nikita Yankovsky
"She comes off a bit intimidating, at first. Is it the quietness? I think it’s the quietness."
She has one of those looks that’ll be analysing your every move or facial tick. I’d hate to play poker with her, that’s for sure. However, I’m sure she’d be fun once you get to know her more. I mean, she has to be more fun than Officer Werewolf McMoonMoon.
~
Mordred Hame
"Oh, that’s John’s other roommate. He’s got the looks, the style, the money and the voice. I don’t think he’s going to stop till he has the fame though."
He doesn’t seem very dependable to me. I’m pretty sure he’d throw someone under the bus if it meant getting further in his career. But that’s probably pretty normal for demons, right?
~
John Taylor
"Ah, John is a total sweetheart! Not fazed in the least by what I am... I’d feel the same towards him, except I don’t know what he is. I don’t really care: nothing can stop him from being awesome."
I love his tattoos; the designs are just so perfect. I sometimes show him the doodles I do when I’m supposed to be working at the front desk, and he hasn’t once considered them to be bad or stupid. Also, the guy cracks hella fine puns. I love me some puns.
~
Eve Lumière
"Eve reminds me a lot of my ex-girlfriend. Actually, she reminds me of all my exes. Which shows I have problems with a certain type. It also shows that I may develop a crush on her in the near future. Fuck. "
I’m pretty comfortable with her, for now. She’s the kind of woman who would buy you alcohol if you asked for it nicely enough. Not that I have asked her to do that just yet.
~
Catharine Reid
"There’s something comforting to me about having a Vampire live next door. That way if I go apeshit, I know she’ll be able to handle things. Hopefully..."
Other than the obvious perks of having another Vampire nearby, Cara is real nice. Sweet and feisty – perfect combo.
~
Opallum
"Um, try coolest guy ever?! He can summon flames, and fly. I swear, if I had my own place, I’d let him camp on my couch or something, rent free.."
But I guess I’ll just have to make do with spare change and cups of coffee for now, I suppose. He seems pretty happy despite his situation.
~
Andrew Mordekai
"Eheheheheheheheehehe. Fire."
I think it’d be kinda rude to introduce myself as someone who just wants to see him blow up stuff with his hands, so I’ll reign myself in there I think. Maybe just say who I am, first of all.
~
Suriel White
"If the Winchester’s have taught me anything, it’s to trust Angels just about as far as you can throw them. Wait... I could probably throw her pretty far. Bad analogy – lemme think of another..."
Ehh... I’ve never been much of a church goer. Not that I think she’d strike me down for it, but still, there’s something off-putting about her.
~
Miles Catrose
"More than one Vamp has told me to stay away from Miles. Apparently fairy blood is pretty irresistible to our kind. *sigh* As if my drinking problem wasn’t bad enough.
Because I’ve been told to avoid him, I don’t know that much about him, other than he’s a Pixie, he’s a hairdresser, and he’s pretty arrogant.
~
Yukiko Abe
"There aren’t words that describe how I feel about Yuki. She didn’t just save my life – she saved me from losing who I am, from becoming a monster. And she helped me remember that there are things worth living for still. I’ll never be able to repay her for that."
Yuki has been beyond generous towards me – giving me a place to stay, a place to work, new clothes and things for my room... and beyond just caring for me, she actually cares about me. I hope I can repay her in some way... all I can do now is help her out in any way possible. And I know I’ll protect her from anything.
~
Mona
"We have a ghost? Here? In this building?! That’s so cool! And creepy... I hope she’s not like the freaky ones from Amityville or something. "
I don’t think I’ve met her yet, but it sure would be interesting. I’ve never met a ghost before. Well, not as far as I know, anyway. I was always pretty sure my old school in Colorado was haunted. Apparently a bunch of parents murdered this pedophile Janitor and burned hi- wait, no. That’s Nightmare on Elm Street. My bad.
~
Faron Romane
"I’ve swung by his Mom’s shop a few times and talked to him a bit. He seems nice – do you think he’d give me some weed if I asked? Wait, would I even get high now?"
Apparently he can talk to dead people. I don’t see why that makes him so special. After all, half the people in our neighbourhood are dead.
~
Nicolas Black
"Who, the Big Bag Wolf? The guy stepped straight from an 80’s noir film into our streets. Not that I’d say that too his face, that is."
I’m not sure how I feel about him. I feel like he could easily protect me from something, but he’s always on edge – like waiting for the worst to happen. I suppose around me, that isn’t such a bad thing, actually...
~
Maggie Spencer-Adeyemi
"Maggie is great! Her flowers are really pretty – I just there weren’t so many growing inside the flat. Bugs dig plants, and I hate the little critters.”
It was difficult living with her, at first. I was always worried that I’d snap one day and hurt her. Still feeling that way now, actually. It’s always better to be on guard. But Yuki keeps me in check a lot, so I think Maggie is good. Which I’m happy about – she’s so nice to me.
~
Megumi
"Oh, Megumi is just about the most adorable thing to enter my life! It’s nice to talk with someone young- well... I guess she’s not young, but certainly childish."
I love spending time with Megumi – she can generally brighten my day if I’m feeling down. She reminds me of the little sister I never had – despite probably being centuries older than me. She also doesn’t smell like food, which is always a bonus among friends.
~
Katherine Haynes
"She lives in our block, right? A few floors down?"
Sure, I’ve seen her around before. Again, the whole “human” issue crops up, so I haven’t talked to her that much.
~
Felix Underwood
"Yeah I’ve seen her – and smelt her. Man, that incense she wears is enough to distract her from her natural scent. "
Another witch, right? I think she and Maggie may get along... despite the whole “dead” thing she has going on. I much prefer Mags’ plants, actually.
~
Elise Callaghan
"I don’t think I’ve ever seen her talk – but I think she’s mute. I wonder if she knows sign language?"
I’ve always wanted to learn it – seems like a useful tool. Then again, I’m sure a pen and paper is just as easy.
~
Claire O’Malley
"She seems... loud."
I have no idea how she teaches kids. Speaking as a teenager, I can safely say most of us are little shits. If I had her job, I’d end up drop-kicking a student out of a top-floor window for talking trash.
~
Barachiel Eamon
"Man, this guy swanned straight out of Supernatural, never mind that last one. And he works with kids?!"
I need to brush up on the Winchester’s Enochian sigils. These guys are hella creepy.
~
Ethan Cooper
"He’s the hot guy staying with Daniel, right? Man, I can’t decide which guy is luckier."
He’s a student or something, I think. Makes me kinda jealous – must be nice to be able to go to College. Wait, sorry – University. I really need to lose these Americanisms if I’m gonna blend in any. Yeesh.
~
Alfie Liau
"I don’t think I’ve met him, but I’m pretty sure I’ve walked past his chocolate place a few times. Man, the fun times I could have in that place... *passes out drooling*"
I wonder if his place is hiring? Wouldn’t mind another part-time job to get some more money for the rent and stuff. Also, I freakin’ love chocolate. Who am I kidding, I’d either blow my entire paycheck on the stuff, or get fired for swiping chocolates that are for sale.
~
Aila Atleo
"Aila? Hella rad. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to find someone awesome to talk to, who I wasn’t in danger of eating, and who’s been through just as much shit as I have. Also, we’re from the same continent, so we’re practically related."
Well, maybe not related, that’s weird. Is it weird that a Vampire and a Werewolf can be buds? Or is it like a forbidden relationship, like Romeo and Juliet? Oh cripes, I just compared us to Romeo and Juliet. Erm... yeah, we talk, it’s cool. Makes me feel better about a lot of things.
~
Conrad Aldhard
"OH MY GOD. HE’S THORIN INCARNATE. YUKI & CONRAD FRENEMIES 5 LYFE.."
Yeah, he’s Thorin Oakenshield all over. Only, y’know, not a Dwarf. Or is he just a really tall one? HOLY SHITSNACKS ARE DWARVES A THING?! YUKI! YUKI ARE DWARVES REAL-
~
Astrid Kitchener
"She seems nice – I wish we could draw together or something. However... yeah, you already know what the issue is."
I swear to God, why can’t there be like a spell or something that makes humans smell nasty to Vampires? Why haven’t the Witches invented that yet?!
~
Michael Harel
"Oh yeah. Hella nice butt for an Angel. Nice tunes too I got my CD player and all my discs from his place – he seemed disgusted at the lack of 80’s stuff though."
That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to get some AC/DC, and some Iron Maiden. Some people have complained about my loud music, so I may as well treat them to some real rock and roll. Might buy some Queen too – love me so Freddie Mercury..
~
Loki van Stenberg
” I’m sorry, I just get so amused every-time I hear his name – you do know what Loki looked like in the Marvel comics, right? Hahahah.."
Anyway, he’s a chemist or something, right? I don’t know much about him, but I'm pretty sure he's a Vampire. I wonder if he has anything that would help me with my little problem? Would chemists even have something like that? I don't even know if regular drugs would work on me anymore.
~
Talia Halbrook
"I can’t believe this chick is a realtor. She looks way too badass for that. Seriously. "
Why?! Why would she sell houses? She looks like she should be selling state secrets to the Russians or something, hell, I don’t know. Selling homes is just too boring a job for someone like her, I think.
~
Emerson Maddox
"He looks slippery. Reminds me of the preppy guys back home who’d threaten to have their family’s lawyers sue you for scratching their Porsche or something. Dicks."
I may be doing him an injustice by judging him so quickly, but I’m usually good at sensing people’s characters. And his is not one I want to be involved with.
~
Ari Amari
"Crazy cat guy, right? He smells funny to me – I can’t quite place it. Something I smelled in Italy? I don’t know."
He really loves cats, from what I’ve heard. He also looks old – like, super old. I heard from a friend who heard from another friend that he fought in the Civil War... the English Civil War, as in the War of the Roses, in the 15th Century? Yeesh.
~
Liam Woodsworth
"Man, and I thought I’d gotten the short straw in life. I just want to hug him until he feels better, y’know?"
Poor guy. I don’t blame him for living such a wild life, considering it may just be cut short. Can’t believe Vampires would even breed with humans, knowing the outcome could be something as unfair as this. I know I certainly wouldn’t, if the chance arose. Thankfully, I’ve heard female Vampires are infertile.
~
Freddie Hughes-Jackson
"Heh – he looks like someone who would fit in well at Hogwarts. And I’m pretty sure he’s read the books, considering his job, and obviously geeky disposition. I’ll have to ask him what house he’d be sorted into!"
I’ve talked to him a couple of times in the library – with the amount of old books in there, I don’t really focus so much on the scent of humans; there’s just so many musty, crisp books to inhale. Ahhh. Nothing beats old, leather-bound books.
~
Aiden Phillips
"Doctor Dracula!"
"Doctor Dracula!"
I’ve only heard about him, I haven’t met him as of yet. I probably should though – maybe he could give me some pointers on Vamp life? He’s younger than Ali, so he probably understands a baby like me a bit better.
~
Ryan Croft
"I’m sorry, everytime I hear ‘Commissioner’, I think of Jim Gordon from Batman. Gary Oldman is my life, dude."
"I’m sorry, everytime I hear ‘Commissioner’, I think of Jim Gordon from Batman. Gary Oldman is my life, dude."
Anyway, Croft. He seems okay, from what I’ve seen him. Seriously rocks that beard of his. Speaking of Batman, I get a severe “Justice is everything” vibe from him. I’ll be on the lookout for any Vigilante Superheroes cropping up.
~
Eternity Loveless
"I don’t understand privileged people like her. She’s rich, but rents a place at one of the cheapest, worst places to live in Edgetoun. Some poorer person could have used that flat. It’s just selfish."
"I don’t understand privileged people like her. She’s rich, but rents a place at one of the cheapest, worst places to live in Edgetoun. Some poorer person could have used that flat. It’s just selfish."
Regardless of the whole “You’re-Fae-so-let-me-tear-your-throat-out” thing, I wouldn’t want to spend time with her. I come from a Working-Class background, so people like her who take everything for granted just rub me the wrong way.
~
Patrick Kershner
"What, there’s another wolf working at the Station? Are they hiding like, dognip or something at that place? Is dognip a thing? Would it even work on Wolves? I’ll have to research that one... use it on Aila. Heheheheheheehe."
"What, there’s another wolf working at the Station? Are they hiding like, dognip or something at that place? Is dognip a thing? Would it even work on Wolves? I’ll have to research that one... use it on Aila. Heheheheheheehe."
He seems a lil jumpy. I guess I can understand that – getting attacked and turned into another species isn’t easy on the psyche, you know?
~
Nicodem Kaminski
"Ahah... well, erm, no he’s... pretty rad.....OKAY HE’S AWESOME AND I WILL LOVE HIM FOREVER OKAY"
"Ahah... well, erm, no he’s... pretty rad.....OKAY HE’S AWESOME AND I WILL LOVE HIM FOREVER OKAY"
Oh sweet baby Jesus, he looks like he walked straight out of Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings or something. And that speaks to my precious nerdy heart, okay? I swear, if Yuki wasn’t hot for chicks, I’d set her up on a date with him just so I could bask in his awesomeness more often. In fact, I may set on up anyway.
~
Anastasia Psomas
"Yissss, another hella geek like myself. Me, Aila and Allison need to get together for a girls night, get drunk while watching all eight Harry Potter movies or something. OOHH WE SHOULD INVITE FREDDIE AND GIVE HIM A MAKEOVER."
"Yissss, another hella geek like myself. Me, Aila and Allison need to get together for a girls night, get drunk while watching all eight Harry Potter movies or something. OOHH WE SHOULD INVITE FREDDIE AND GIVE HIM A MAKEOVER."
I don’t know what creature she is, but it’s something hot. Girl just radiates heat, and speaking as a pretty much permanently cold, dead, no blood pumping walking corpse, is wonderful. In fact, Wolves run pretty high temps too, and I’m pals with Aila. Am I subconsciously collecting walking space heaters?!
~
James Bright
"I’ve not seen him before, but Aila’s mentioned him. I’d hate to live – or rather, exist, would be the better term? – the rest of my ghosty days in a Police Station."
"I’ve not seen him before, but Aila’s mentioned him. I’d hate to live – or rather, exist, would be the better term? – the rest of my ghosty days in a Police Station."
Apparently Nick’s been working on his case. I hope he finds out what happened soon.
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