Cherrywitch

"Welcome to H̶e̶l̶l̶!̶ the Underworld!" A Comedy Fantasy rp!

@bmxbrat484 I... like, five guys? XD "Five Demons"

"Welcome to H̶e̶l̶l̶!̶ the Underworld!" A Comedy Fantasy rp!

"There are many stores and places for entertainment. You do have to work here, still, in order to have money to spend on these things. Everything is pretty cheap with our Mon currency, cheaper than the Deeds in heaven, at least."

@AkaiJose Under the Hell? tab. And no, they can exchange whatever Earth money they have for Mon with Greed, but it's not a very high ratio. One dollar is about a half Mon, and for scale a burger in the Underworld is like 5 Mon. Hope that makes sense. ^_^" And I don't know if I should reply yet, so...

_PROJECT: P.H.O.B.I.A._

Thirteen

Interactions: @Tenma Tendo@Majoras End

The thought of having to workout wasn't something Thirteen was particularly fond of, and considering his scrawny small body structure it wasn't hard to tell why. Even that he would put up with but... a team?! How? How could he get to know all of these people to work as a team? His 'brother' couldn't even get Thirteen into the habit of cooperating with another person. No no no, Thirteen had already decided to completely avoid the others at all costs and work solo.

But the avoiding others part had already seemed to go straight down the tubes.

While Thirteen was in frightened shock, nose buried promptly into his scarf, he hadn't noticed a girl peering at him with the curiousness of a circus goer peeking at a freak show. He hadn't noticed her up until she crouched down before him, pushing herself into his personal bubble without warning and making her existence known to the otherwise oblivious Thirteen. Though his face didn't show it, he was very surprised and uncomfortable with her so close, and scooched his body as far back against the wall as he could get away from her and personal contact.

"Hey, are you okay? Um...Thirteen?"

Thirteen? Oh, right... Thirteen brushed his cheek with the tattoo into his scarf, not even a twitch in his facial muscles, as if they were set in stone. He just gave a simple nod, hoping that was enough to make her go away. Thirteen was never a conversationalist since he was a street rat... who would he talk to, the dumpsters? Even so, he simply just didn't like getting close to people, he didn't want his bad luck to rub off on them. Thirteen pulled his knees a little closer and avoided eye contact with Thalia, doing his very best to silently tell her to back off with his body language.

"Welcome to H̶e̶l̶l̶!̶ the Underworld!" A Comedy Fantasy rp!

@Majoras End well according to this handy dandy site, Gabriel is the messenger and helps people with communication. To me, it sounds like Gabriel would be Heaven's version of Lust where (s)he would take care of relationships between inhibitors of Heaven and any disputes they may have.

Just what I got from it.

The Legend of the Aedis: Elemental Warriors of Old

Nope, I'm good!

"Welcome to H̶e̶l̶l̶!̶ the Underworld!" A Comedy Fantasy rp!

@Majoras End Sure~! I'd love to have you, but just know a lot of our players have left recently, so.

Spectral Corp

Sierra Lovehart

Sierra took another scan over the group. They were all quite the character it seems. Sierra flashed them all another bright smile. While she was processing the different appearances and names, the first woman who had noticeably given her the cold shoulder spoke.

"Excuse me, my name is Catori Ricci, I was instructed to appear here today for in-processing? Oh, I'm sorry, it's nice to meet you as well, I'm not incredibly awake right now. Would you mind letting me inside, please?" The blonde cocked a brow, turning to the gate.

"Is it not open or something? Yeesh, you'd figure they'd at least unlock it if they were expecting us. Err, I'm only an Iron level, so I don't have any special key card or anything, but lemme try this! It's worked on every other gate or door before!"

Suddenly, a determination crossed over the hazel eyes, she staring down the gate as if it were here arch nemesis. Sierra got low, into a sort of fighting stance, drawing one right leg behind her. In a flash and with a smirk on her face, her leg shot up and kicked the gate door with such power it shook loudly, as if a bomb had gone off underneath it.

Still, no dice.

Sierra pouted childishly, raising her knee to her chest to rub her foot. "Owww. What the heck is wrong with that? It's not made of brick!" She whimpered, placing her throbbing foot back onto the ground and glaring at the gate. "... There's no way I'm waiting. This is taking way too long!" And just like that, the hyperactive girl was off again, now attempting to scale the brick wall and go over onto the other side. At least she was resolute, it seemed nothing daunted her. Of course, that will only get her into more trouble in the long run...

_PROJECT: P.H.O.B.I.A._

Thirteen

Interactions: @Majoras End

Fear.

That's all the small boy could feel as the consciousness gradually returned to the muscles in his body. His heart was pounding in his fragile chest, trembles coursing through his hands and fingers. Am I alive? Did I survive? Did I die? Even though his thoughts were frantic, his expression remained neutral as always. Even the thought of death wasn't enough to change that.

Slowly, the deep black eyes blinked once, twice, until the blur cleared and he could see he was on a hospital bed. Oh... right. This place. I came here... to be stronger. The dark eyes lowered to his hand, as he clenched it in and out of a fist. He didn't feel any different, besides a distinct throb of a headache in his temples. The boy touched them lightly, screwing up his eyes from the pain. Was this... all a scam? A coldness encased his heart, but it was quickly broken as footsteps were heard entering the room.

A female researcher gave a relaxed smile of relief at the sight of the boy up on his feet, she coming over to speak with him.

"Ah, thank goodness! We were so worried when you fainted. Are you feeling alright now?" He hesitated to meet her eye to eye, but nodded anyways. "Oh, good! We thought your body had rejected the serum. Let's take a look at y— huh?" The researcher paused as she gazed at him head on, a puzzled look crossing her face.

"I-...Is something wrong?" The quiet thing stuttered out in his gentle, raspy voice.
"No, it's just... well, here." The researcher dug into her coat pocket to fish out a small mirror, handing it to the dark haired boy who was careful not to touch her as he accepted it. With a flip of the top, he gazed into the mirror curiously. Same blank face. Same girlish cat eyes. Same full lips. Wait, what was that? Under his left eye, there was a fairly large marking. It almost appeared to be a tattoo, the Roman numerals "XIII"... the number 13.

To the boy's surprise, he didn't shudder just from seeing the number. So, he was cured? The researcher seemed comforted that he wasn't put off by the strange mark, and delicately retrieved her mirror. "Well, its good to see the serum worked, at least your body accepted it. Your head might hurt for a while, considering we had to inject it in the vein there. Can you stand?"

The boy pushed himself onto his feet, fumbling for the scarf around his neck as he stroked it to calm himself. "Since you didn't have a name, we are going to refer to you as "Thirteen" now, is that alright?" A nod. "Good! Well, let's bring you to the waiting room to meet the others."
"O-Others?"
"Of course... you're not the only one participating in PHOBIA. This way."

Thirteen, as he was now called, trudged along behind her so that the researcher wouldn't try and put her arm on his shoulders as some would do in an attempt to comfort him. That only made him more anxious.

They entered the room, and with a quiet discussion the researcher left. He was alone. Thirteen's dark eyes trailed over the others here. Some were quite frightening in appearance, monstrous even. Was that from their experiments? Thirteen touched the mark under his eye lightly. He got off easy...

The small boy put himself in the corner, quietly praying no one noticed him enter late. He didn't like talking with people. Thirteen entered just in time to hear the doctor's introduction. He curled himself up tighter, suddenly wondering just what kind of mess he had gotten himself into.

_PROJECT: P.H.O.B.I.A._

@Majoras End oh, so they're still in the waiting room?

_PROJECT: P.H.O.B.I.A._

Thirteen

---

"I... I want to be useful."

---

Name: Unknown, simply called "Thirteen" or "Triska" by some
Age: 19
Description: A small boy at maybe 5'4", Thirteen is someone easily lost in a crowd. He has fairly pale skin with a sweet heart shaped face adorning a small nose and girlish lips. In fact, Thirteen is often mistaken for a girl at first introductions, which he highly distastes. He appears to be Eurasian, given away by his large slanted cat like black eyes, thin eyebrows, and short yet slightly curly black hair. Thirteen is thin, which he is embarrassed about, considering how slight his body structure is. He often wears black jeans and a long black coat with a white scarf— if anyone tries to take it, he'll go berserk. He the Roman numeral for thirteen tattooed under his left eye.
Phobi-Ability: Triskaidekaphobia, the fear of the number 13
Personality: Thirteen is commonly seen as strange. He keeps away from others and isn't very good with social interaction. In fact, Thirteen doesn't talk very much at all, and getting him to is a pretty big success. If you try to touch him, he'll flinch away with scared eyes and if you try to befriend him he'll blow you off. People say he's an antisocial jerk, but really he's just frightened.
He's scared that he is a bad luck charm, and that everyone who got close to him will only get hurt. Thirteen distances himself so as not to get attached to anyone anymore, so neither party experiences pain. He thinks he is better off alone, so his curse of bad luck doesn't affect people around him he cares about.
Thirteen is actually pretty superstitious, and if you try to do something like shatter a mirror or open an umbrella inside he'll hit you upside the head so fast you wouldn't see it coming. Sadly, though, he does happen to attract a lot of bad luck and has since he was younger— black cats always followed him, he'd accidentally walk under ladders and the worst was the number 13... but I'll save that for the background.
However, Thirteen does have a soft side. He likes cute things, though he doesn't admit it, and his room actually has many adorable stuffed toys that's he's embarrassed of. If he finds something cute, Thirteen has trouble brushing it aside and will want it desperately. He's also quite bashful if you hit the right nerve, and truly... he's always wanted to be hugged, but he's just afraid of the consequences to the other party.
Relations: He doesn't know his real family. His "brother" and his "grandma" both died, and somehow he blamed himself for their deaths.
Backstory: As early as he could remember, Thirteen was a nameless street rat who stole food to get by. He was apathetic of others, as seemingly emotionless as he is now, and only cared for himself and surviving.
When he was around nine, he stumbled upon another street rat like himself, one caught for stealing bologna and bread from a local shop. Thirteen would usually have just passed by, but there was something about the kid... he couldn't leave him.
Thirteen rushed in, snatching the boy up and racing off, far too fast on his feet for the group to catch. The boy thanked him, and shared the food with Thirteen as a gift for saving him. For a few years, they were brothers, and a menace to the small shopkeepers of the area.
One day while they were running away from a group of angry shopkeepers, they made a wrong turn into a construction site. Thirteen was running ahead, and only heard a loud clutter that sounded as if a bomb had gone off. It seemed time had slowed as he looked over his shoulder, and saw his brother crushed under a huge slab of wood, with a printed number "13" on the side.
Thirteen didn't cry, and it tore him up inside that he couldn't even mourn. A few months later, he was sitting in an alleyway passing time when the backslid opened. Thirteen didn't make a move to run, quietly raising his eyes to the woman who peeked out.
The woman took him in, he referring to her as "grandma" while he helped around the restaurant. Thirteen knew that the restaurant was just a cover, and that this store was something else entirely, but he didn't question what that was. Someone kind enough to take him in and care for him, how could he not trust her?
Then, one day a group of men came in. They seemed suspicious but Thirteen didn't mention it. Before he knew it, a bullet was fired right through grandma's head. Later, Thirteen found out she was a sort of mafia boss, but at the time he was so confused and horrified. And what date did he see on the calendar but the 13th? Thirteen wrapped the scarf she had made for him around his neck, the one so lovingly sewed because he was always cold, and left in silence. Again, he couldn't bring himself to cry.
The traumatized boy was said to have walked up to the building of research, holding out a small flyer he had found advertising the PHOBIA project. Quietly, he asked "I... I want to be useful. Please make me strong." Thirteen didn't want to lose anyone again because he wasn't strong enough to protect them. He wanted to be strong.
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