Faerah

House Of Rejects

Lia watched the brief exchange between the two, and it was obvious these two had a longer history than just a few minutes. Her long ears pricked at the sound of her native language being spoken, rather well. Skillfully blended neutrally as to not be distinctive in any particular region. She chewed the womans words a few minutes, rolling it around and gathering all the information she could from them. Her tattoos pulsed once more as she came to the conclusion that these two held her best chance, and that she would gather what she could from them.
Lia lifted her fingers and called upon her Air, her breath, and guided the stray ciggarette smoke away from Mr. Masters and herself, lazily guiding it into a few patterns and shapes before letting it go well away from everyone.
She turned to the woman, her eyes steady but not unkind, and spoke her true tongue, the melodic and lilting desert language of the Saadian region, and her tattoos glowed once more, this time with love for her native language, and thankful to this woman for her gift, the ability to speak with others as her true self. Her eyes clamped shut as the rage in her belly uncoiled itself a little more, strong emotion turning deadly in her stomach, she deadened her eyes and willed her tattoos quiet, taking a deep breath through her nose. She swung her head back to Masters, tugged her lip ring into her mouth, and narrowed her eyes again.
" Then lets get started."

House Of Rejects

Lia's gaze narrowed and flicked over to the Other one smoking a cigarette. It wasn't as though Lia intended to be rude, being a nomad her whole life introductions were pointless and not usually navigated. She assessed the woman quickly, noting the womans hand resting on the hilt of her sword. No sudden startles around this one then. Most likely, sneaking around would be useless as well. She gave a firm nod of recognition and turned her gaze back towards the Host, Mr. Masters. She could tell the woman was attempting to read her, and as Lia was an open, volatile gash of rage on good days, she wasnt too concerned with what the woman gleaned. Keeping her snarly fire in check took most of her energy, and left little for things like worrying about first impressions or what other emotion she would be giving away. Lia was more about actions and less about emotional politics and guess work. Her eyes briefly flitted to the cigarette in the womans hand, a pang of longing for a hookah with decent shisha assaulted her before she took a deep breath and returned her gaze to Mr. Masters.

House Of Rejects

Lia looked up into this mans eyes and was unable to read him. Either way he was frustrating. Saying essentially what every single other teacher had said. She was destined, she must conquer the fire, embrace it. Yea thats great, Lia thought, fine and fucking dandy, until she scorched the earth and heats the lake near by and boils all the wild life because she "embraced her fire."
"What makes you able to help me?" Her tattoos pulsed just once, her temper lifting its sleepy head inside her belly, one eye brow raised and a smile beginning to spread on its etheral self. She didnt want to be proven stupid for another wild goose chase. She could live out her life in the volcanic dunes of Demi. She slid the crushed letter from her back jean pocket, holding it out for inspection.

House Of Rejects

Lia broke through the woods at the edge of the manor, with the letter from this Mr. Master's clutched in her hand, the parchment creased over a hundred times and torn in more than a few spots. Lia's pack weighed a little more than she was used to carrying, but she honestly didn't know what to expect from the Manor. Didn't know what kindness' would be offered, and so she had made sure she had enough supplies with her so that she would not be turned away because she could not care for herself. As she walked to the front of the house, her pack hitching a little ways up her back as she crouched low and studied the two individuals talking from the door from behind a bush about 40 feet away from the expansive manor she was looking at. She didn't see any other movement, and if she was honest with herself, it wouldn't have changed a thing. The letter said they could help master abilities, and that's what she was there to do. Maybe this Masters guy could help her, unlike the other useless fire wielders she had ran across over her year long journey. She had just about given up on ever wielding her fire ever again and was about to start her new life as maybe one of the Queens recruits when a man in Durer who had failed to help her do anything other than light a candle with a flame so hot the wax was gone within 3 seconds gave her this letter. Addressed to her, care of Samir Abdalah, that useless putz. He did at least offer me a couch while she worked at his market while he taught wielding classes to the street elves. She knew Samir had done all he could, and it was time for Lia to move on. She took a deep breath, and stepped from the shadows into the light and began to walk towards the door, no longer caring about being stealthy. It had been a long hard journey of dodging and evading the humans to get across the world, not an easy feet. The fae helped along the way, but regardless, Lia learned the hard way how ruthless these non-nomadic humans were, and had been forced to kill a few within the last week of her journey here. Her hood had slipped down her head during a particularly bad rainstorm and 3 drunk guys an the alley in Fitch. She had had to fight her way out of the mass of drunk muscle that threatened to choke, rape and kill her. She became desperate, and claustrophobic. Her rage began to seep in the corners of her eyes, and she felt the familiar and comforting glow at the base of her belly right behind her belly button that spread heat through out her entire body, ending at her fingertips. Touching any part of her while she was this angry resulted in instant skin incineration. She felt guilty even now, a week later, because the smell of burning human flesh didn't necessarily disgust her. She never thought of humans in any way while she was growing up. The odd human with dreads and worn nomad clothes would drift into their tribe for a time, bemoaning life in the " real world" and seeking something of solitiude. Lia never paid them any mind, but they had never been hostile. Her stomach growled remembering the burnt flesh she left behind of the men in Fitch, and she took a deep breath. She was nearing the pair, and she steeled herself for the worst.

"I am Ophelia Estrellas. Can you be of use to me?" Lia inwardly cringed, sometimes her english translations came off hard and robotic. No matter, at least they would know she got down to the point. Her bright eyes bounced back and forth between the two, her breath held and her spine iron straight. The markings on her body began to pulse a soft red glow that thrummed her body as she waited with nerves tightly coiled in her belly.

House Of Rejects

Character Sheet

Name: Ophelia (Lia for short) Estrellas
Age: 74
Race: Desert Elf
Description/picture (if you want) Lia can be described as an Arabian Nightmare, her tanned skinned scorched by the sun stand in stark relief of her red tattoo's that cover her arms and legs in harsh geometric lines, dispersed with swirling ivy that trails its way to the center of Lia's body, coming to stop at a solid ring around her belly button. Her face was tattooed in the same way, but here it added a softness to her face that her hard lean body lacked. Years of training in the hot desert sun had left little softness in Lia, but she did mourn the loss of that gentle femininity some days, and was known for brief fits of compassion and caring. Her eyes were a striking tiger's eye color, Honey, sunflower and fresh packed earth mixing into her iris' causing a riot before fading into black at the center and outskirts of her eyes. Her long jet black hair fell to her bottom, and was tied into two long braids skillfully wrapped in cloth of different bright colors. At the Manor, Lia typically wears skinny jeans, doc martins and a simple tight white guinea tea. The angry red hue of her tattoos make themselves known through the thin stretched fabric, and Lia felt a zing of pride. Her plump lips wear constantly being tugged into her mouth by her lip ring, keeping them a bright natural red color. Standing at 5'9, Lia felt easy and confident in her own skin.
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Powers: Fire wielding, some proficiency with air and earth wielding.
Weapons(if any): Throwing knives held by a leather hilt, 2 9mm hand guns strapped to each thigh and a rudimentary throwing spear blessed by her desert elf tribe. True ability uknown.
History: Lia was born and bread in the desert of Marrakesh near Iberia to a small tribe of Desert Elves who had lived peacefully for years with other nomadic beings, humans who made their life on the desert and those who were searching for relief from the manmade world. Their tribe had lived happily, training each generation to be warriors, lovers, and protectors. Keeping ancient customs alive, Lia had an old soul that spoke of generations of ancestors. But she also had a temper. Her powers for fire wielding were too vast, too much for the small unnamed tribe to help her wield any longer. Soon they became wary of her, stopping conversation as she entered the room, declining invitations for hunting or trading trips, so she went alone. She became bitter, the fire in her veins nothing in comparison to the fire the burned white hot in her eyes. With her spine rigid, she walked into her Grandmother's dwelling, a small hastily built hut her tribe erects during the sand storm season for each of its elders. The rest of the village sleeps together huddled into one giant yurt filled with furs and hides, pillows in bright colors and the smell of Shisha strong in the air. Her grandmother was Lia's only living relative, and had been ill for a long time. As elves dont typically age at the same rate as humans, Lia's grandmother must be impossibly old. The millennia lumbering slowly on as Tal's body weighed down and became creased with age. Lia looked at Tal and told her that she needed to leave and discover more help in wielding her impossibly large and growing skill. Tal easily let Lia go, understanding her granddaughters need for something more than nomadic customs and its predictability. Though Lia still kept the sands of Marrakech in her veins, her fire needed something more, and she let that flame at the center of her belly lead her towards the House of Rejects.
Odds and ends: (Want to add something not here??)
Lia has been in the technological world for about a year by the time she finally reaches the doors of the House. While she is basically fluent in pop culture and technology, there are sometimes small and glaring gaps in her knowledge. When angered she turns back into the angry desert nomad, and her fire has been growing steadily after every usage, making it difficult to master one level of power before being driven deeper into the molten core that holds her fire. Over the year she has discovered her basic affinity for Air, Earth and water wielding and has become proficient in wielding them together, but her fire continues to be uncooperative.

House Of Rejects

HEY!! Getting started now, sorry guys!

Greetings!!

Your welcome :p

The Wolves of Red Lake

Working on my CS now, may not be able to finalize until tomorrow around 10.

The Wolves of Red Lake

@Nallore I can definitely play around with that! Would I then be considered a Deviance or a cursed human? My gut is saying a cursed human only because it was by a witches interference that my character would become otherwise non-typical. Also, I'm a newbie to this site and I have possibly overlooked what is glaring right at me, but is there a raw CS you want us to use or just the standard? I'm still learning to navigate and understand the Jargon. I plead idiocy, and I am sorry haha.

The Wolves of Red Lake

@Faerah
Kinda like the ghost from being human?
(British version....American was a copy.)

Loved that show. The ghosts story was really sad though but kinda similar in that she was kinda normal until she decided to haunt the one that killed her. Then she did some creepy stuff
Once she felt better though she went back to her normal
The only thing there is that she couldn't leave the house (for a few episodes she could...got a job and everything)

I think that idea combined with needing an anchor is really neat

All that was to say I think it's super cool :D

@BlackPanther

Yea something like that, I took parts from a few different ghost lines like that! I just wasn't sure of the ghost lore we were operating with, sometimes ghosts are transient, even with an anchor and they are able to roam freely. Some are stuck in the place they died, some are able to move around like in Deadbeat or Odd Thomas to find their unfinished business. Maybe I'll work it into a different setting because I can seriously have some fun with a slightly mad, mostly harmless ghost.