queenoftheages

World Beyond the Lexicon

@Blu aaa, sorry I havent been able to make a form yet, ive been trying to keep up with the chat but i havent had the time to actually make a char yet :(

World Beyond the Lexicon ~Legends Aren’t Born, They’re Made!~

Interested !

THE WALKING DEAD - Our Broken World (A Zombie Apocalypse RP) [OOC is now up and in the first post]

Interest!

🌺Those Who Exist🌺

Mercy Vale

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_{"Sorry but...I don't ever recall giving a damn. No hard feelings, love."}

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NAME: Mercy Vale
AGE: 22
GENDER: Female
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Lesbian
OCCUPATION: Musician

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PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Definitely given the height gene of the family, Mercy stands at 6'1, her lanky build only making her seem taller. She stands with her shoulders back and head lowered, her green eyes often hard to read. Nicely tanned from the Australian sun and covered in freckles from head to toe, she doesn't bother to actually wear too much makeup, although she wishes she could cover her freckles. She dislikes them very much. Her hair; long, curly, and red, is often pulled into a messy bun as she doesn't really care what it looks like. On the occasion it is down, the ginger curls fall down to her shoulder blades. Though she doesn't have any tattoos, she possesses a few piercings, including a nose ring and multiple studs in her ear.

PERSONALITY: Introverted, blunt, playful, calm, realistic and down to earth, romantic, perceptive
LIKES: Traveling, the stars, smoking, playing the guitar and singing, reading newspapers, big dogs, museums, hot weather, snarkiness
DISLIKES: Rain, cats, large crowds, her freckles, being told what to do, cleaning, children, commitment

BIO:
Born in Australia to a higher middle-class family, Mercy believed she had it all. Two amazing parents and two messy but endearing younger twin brothers, she loved where she was at. But of course, everything had to change.

Especially close to her dad when she was a child, she and him were basically two peas in a pod. Wherever he went, Mercy was always tagging along, whether that be to the grocery store or to the bathroom (Which he would always get onto her for), she was there. He basically taught her everything she knew, the most memorable was the acoustic guitar, an instrument she fell in love with the moment she noticed someone playing it. He taught her how to drive a stick shift when she was 11 (Though she never really got the hang of it), and how to best catch and kill snakes. Overall, whenever she needed help or just wanted to talk, she would go to him.

But then when she was 12, he lost his job. An incident that severely damaged him and drove him to pick up drinking again, a bad habit he had developed during his earlier years. This made her parents' relationship crumble, something she's always been pissed about and she's never been the same. In her darkest moments, Mercy believes it was somehow her fault, but deep down she knows there's nothing she could have done about it.

The divorce was quick, but for Mercy, it seemed like a decade. Especially since no matter how she pleaded with her dad to stop, he said there was no way it wouldn't happen, which baffled her. She'd always known him to be a problem solver, but here he was, giving up everything over a couple pieces of paper. She realizes now that it wasn't that simple, but she still gets angry about it. Not only that, but what really got her was the aftermath. Once the divorce was filed and her parents said their goodbyes, he disappeared. She tried desperately to get him to answer her voicemails and texts, but it was futile after awhile. She'd given up hope on ever hearing from him again.

Two years later, her family moved to the U.S, which she assumed that her mom just wanted a fresh start somewhere new. Mercy attended her last three years at a public school before she left home, an aspiring musician, using her loss to drive her forward. She moved from place to place, performing to small crowds and picking up a couple odd jobs here and there to pay for bills and gas. Ending up in Santa Clara was just a coincidence, she didn't really plan to stay there, or anywhere else, really. Mercy just follows the stars, and this time the stars brought her here.

Extra: 3D905A

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IDLY | Cam & Mia |

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🌺Those Who Exist🌺

Camille Zhuang

🅒 🅐 🅜 🅘 🅛 🅛 🅔 🅩 🅤 🅐 🅝 🅖

xxx 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Camille Zhuang 𝓐𝓰𝓮 & 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ 18 June 2nd 2001 𝓩𝓸𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓬 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Mercury; Gemini 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓽𝔂 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Cis-Female; She/Her 𝓢𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓞𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Bisexual 𝓗𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓷 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Chicago, Illinois, USA 𝓯𝓬 | 𝓬𝓬 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Christen Rhule | rosybrown	█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █	𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Virtues Confident Honest Independent Intelligent Organized Vices Spoiled Argumentative Indifferent Snarky 𝓗𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

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Meadow Ridge Institute

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_{Interactions > @KZOMBI3 Rin Ikarashi}

Late, late, late!

Were the only words running through Pia's mind as the small junior raced to get to school, her tired and very much distressed legs pushing the pedals of her bike to go faster. She'd managed to push the 'snooze' button one too many times, claiming a new record at six, before actually realizing she'd set it for a reason. That being said, Pia had no time to do anything, not even her extra ten-minute power nap, which happened to be her favorite part of the morning. She hadn't even had time to get dressed properly! Her outfit was on, and that was that.

Deeply saddened by the chain of events happening (though she had managed to grab her tub of muffins she'd stress baked the night before), and her thoughts elsewhere, Pia hadn't realized she was quickly accelerating until the pedals of her baby blue bike were moving faster than she could keep up. Blinking a few times, she thought, hiiiiilllllll!!, as everything around her started to blur. The trees turned into green blobs and the road and buildings into gray ones; her mind couldn't keep up with the chaos. Everything was happening fast. Too fast.

Anyone with any sense would have slowed down instead of going full speed down a steep hill, but unfortunately for Pia, sense wasn't on her side. Usually. Instead of trying to catch onto the pedals that looked like spinny death machines, she placed her feet down onto the concrete in hopes of trying to maintain some control (screaming the entire time). At this time, her front tire wanted to go crazy. It began wobbling left and right as Pia tried her best to control it and stop herself, panicking the rest of the way down. Continuing to wobble, she skidded to a stop at least 3 meters later, the smell of burning rubber in her nose. Whether that be from her shoes or tires, she didn't want to know.

Taking a shaky breath, she leaned against the front of her bike, more distressed than before. "...I almost died…," she said to herself softly. Repeating the sentence again, she straightened herself, a bit dazed, and continued on her way.

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Finally making it to school, Pia tumbled into a bike rack, simply throwing a chain over it, not bothering to lock it. Grabbing the rest of her stuff from the basket that sat on the front of it, the small girl sprinted inside deeply hoping she hadn't missed the opening ceremony. But as she arrived to the auditorium, her shoulders dropped seeing as it was already over. She sighed, watching as most people were already leaving to sign up for club activities.

"Aw man, not again," Pia stated, running her hands through her short and not to mention very messy hair. Right now, she was more than a bit frazzled: Her hair was a mess; her outfit was unironed, the front buttons not even together; her tie was thrown loosely around her neck, and one sock was pulled all the way up which could not be said for the other. She was a complete disaster and she knew it.

Trying her best to fix herself up, which was extremely hard with one hand, Pia moved around, not exactly paying attention to her surroundings. She was looking for Photography or at least the Newspaper club, but she couldn't seem to find any. After what seemed like forever, she turned in a circle, looking for anyone who might know where it was at. Her eyes landing on a tall guy with reddish-purple hair who seemed to be looking around too. She sadly shuffled up to him.

"Hi, do you happen to know where photography or the newspaper booth is?" She asked meekly, giving off a small smile and scratching the back of her neck in embarrassment. "I promise I'm not like, new or anything, just lost, _{very lost}, and...oh! Would you like a muffin?" Pia asked, her train of thought jumping tracks. Holding out the tub, she said, "I made them myself! _{I also need to get rid of them, I made too many}."

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

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Straying to the edge of the group, the black haired woman took mental note of her surroundings. She noticed the way the tree limbs shook in the wind; the way the smaller ones moved completely with it. The way the crisp air burnt her lungs if she took too deep a breath, or they way the leaves crunched sadly under the weight of footsteps from the others. She enjoyed studying the little things around her since she wasn't particularly all that good with people, a trait she always had especially growing up. But as more people began to show up, it had gotten harder to concentrate, so instead she turned her attention to the newcomers.

There were a few she actually recognized as they approached. One of them, the photographer, had written about her work in a non-critical way, which she was appreciative of. Of course, she didn't really know him, but he certainly seemed like he'd be someone to start a conversation with. She couldn't place his name though, no matter how much she searched for it.

Although a very brief encounter, she remembered the name of the second person: Suspiria. A name like that couldn't be forgotten. Astraea recognized her from the woman in the library; she had struck up a conversation with the younger woman as they had just happened to be in the same area. She had to say, she was definitely...surprised to see her here. It was a short meeting, but Astraea didn't think she was the type of person to be caught up in all of this, but then again, there were many interesting people here. The most notable being Jaden and Amanda, along with the girl with the trail mix.

Still keeping to the edge, Astraea gave Archie a curt nod to him as she passed through the old church doors. She hadn't missed the small smile he'd given her as they made eye contact, both examining the group of people around them. She had respected him in that moment, not a lot of people she knew were observers. Taking inventory. Watching. Listening. He seemed to be familiar with many others here, which was more she could say for herself.

As she passed through, her hands folded in front of her, the woman noticed how actually run down the building was. Any wood left was wasting away, rotted and moldy as Ivy vines crept up around the seats and climbed the walls as if reaching for something. She could hear the crunching of glass beneath her feet, a sound she didn't particularly enjoy, so she stopped moving before too long. A large portion of the roof had caved in, which Astraea took in as hazardous. She couldn't trust that this place couldn't invert at any moment in time. Oh, how right she was.

She began to subconsciously draw a small pattern on the back of her hand: The Eye of Horus. A small protection symbol known in the Pagan community. She didn't enjoy all of the unpredictable factors is this situation and it made her nervous.

Before she could pitch in her plan on maybe staying outdoors, a small, sort of meek woman piped up, addressing them. The brunette gave an explanation as to everything that was going on, seeming a bit frantic. The line will you trust me rang in her ears like a bad song. She had too many questions and not enough answers. Astraea frowned, visibly displeased as her mind raced, she couldn't help but be skeptical. The text, the worn down building, it all seemed...set up. But in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't, and it irritatingly nagged at her. She needed to know more. She needed to know both sides to the story. She needed to know...who this witch was.

Shaking her head, Astraea straightened herself up, confident in her answer, but continued to trace and retrace the symbol on her hand. "I can't," she responded cooly. "There are simply too many unknowns, I hope you understand-."

A loud banging sounded at the door before making its way to the top. Startled, Astraea moved back just as the roof collapsed, and unfortunately sending a large dust cloud in every direction. Her vision obscured, she covered her nose and mouth with her hand as she pressed herself up against one of the walls of the church, letting out a few coughs. There was growling, a lot of it, but she couldn't see not a damn thing. Moving along the wall, Astraea was reaching out for the door. They needed to get out of there.

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Motel Cadillac

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_{Interactions > @Darcs}

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It didn't take long for Kejirah's attention talking to Ravi to thin out. It's not like she purposefully did it, it's just a lot of things were happening around her (kind of), and her mind just liked to jump from one topic to another. She wanted to talk to everyone, but couldn't decide who. Of course she wanted to stay with Ravi, but he didn't seem to want her company too badly, and she thought it'd be weird to just go over and start up a conversation with the woman across the room, so for a moment, she was just standing there, staring into space as she buffered. Both don't exactly need my company right now, but…-"

"Hey, you, looking for the place to stay...?"

The young woman turned her head at the voice, a voice she recognized. The one from earlier. She smiled as she looked down at her, the eyepatch first drawing her attention.
"Heyy! So you're the person who spoke up before, I wasn't exactly sure who I was talking to then." she started, chuckling and turning her body to face the much smaller woman. She pulled her hair back behind her shoulders before sticking her hands into her pockets. "And oh! I'm Kejirah, new in town, if that wasn't obvious enough,"she said, giving off another laugh.
"But honestly, I'll take whatever right now, as long as it's not a cardboard box on the side of the road, although the way you describe it makes it seem that way, so if you could show me the way, I'd appreciate that very much," Kejirah paused, waiting for a response.
"Ah, I'm sorry, I forgot to ask you your name!

But as she stood there, she remembered yet another thing. She'd actually come in there to find a place to stay, and to order food, like one did when entering a diner. She sighed internally and hoped there would be a Taco Bell or something along the way, though she highly doubted it since there was literally nothing in the town so far but dirt. Dammit. Kejirah frowned for a split second before realizing she probably looked like an idiot making faces to herself, so she put on a small smile instead and making plans to come back later.

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

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I knew desire
the moment I came into the world.
My half-lit desire, my love for shadows.
I seek them with a lust for I know
Death cannot harm me--
it is life which is full of risk and malignity.

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Interactions > @Ghost Note @penny @JunkMail
Place > Her home | The abandoned church

The chimes of an old grandfather clock echoed throughout the empty house, creating an eerie tone to those not used to it. Both hands pointed straight up, signaling the start of a new day, 12 A.M exactly, the pendulum swaying back and forth in a hypnotizing way, a small click sounded with each swing. Unlit, ivory colored, half melted candles sat lifelessly around the entire house, their wax having gone cold many hours before the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Open books lay across the couch, the floor, the bed, their tender pages exposed and yellowed from age, their spines wrinkled from use. The inked words underlined and scribbled out in an almost frantic way, sticky notes hanging from seemingly random pages filled with small but messy handwriting. Black and white photos hung in the hallways in neatly aligned frames, both sides parallel with each other, all of which have been recently dusted.

A soft but faint orange glow emitted from the kitchen door frame, the light flickering, only strong enough to barely reach the bookshelf outside in the room. Inside, a woman sits hunched over pieces of paper, dipping her crow's feather into ink before scribbling words onto a sheet of a piece titled Midnight's Call. She hadn't meant to stay up, but the moment she closed her eyes, the words came to her in a flurry, so here she was, in the middle of the night with only a single candle to help her see. Of course, she could turn on the light, she did have electricity, but she oddly preferred the company of a flame no matter how small. It was relaxing in a way.

So as she sat there, the scent of incense burning that mixed the smell of used matches and cinnamon, she reached over and grabbed the small porcelain cup in front of her that contained herbal tea and took a sip. She couldn't help but remember her strange encounter with the shadowy hound. The way its eyes bore into hers right before it walked away, looking back as if to say, "Come on now, I won't wait for you." The woman had tried to follow it, but lost sight as the sky grew darker. She could still hear the echoing pawsteps ring in her ears as they faded away, its swift movements causing the distance between them to quickly lengthen. She still wandered about that evening. Where it was leading her. She remembered Tod screaming at her, trying to say something, but she was too intrigued to listen.

Realizing she had paused, staring down into her empty cup, watching the tea leaves settle at the bottom, the woman gently set it down and picked her pen back up. The words that came next no longer had any meaning to her.

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Astraea rarely received text messages, and when she did, she hardly paid attention to them. It's not like she had many friends to send her anything, not that she desperately wanted any, she definitely enjoyed her isolation, but this one certainly struck her as peculiar. Not once had she ever gotten something like this, nor something so...invasive. She had assumed, rightfully so, that she was the only one who had laid eyes upon the black hound, but apparently not. According to the text, anyways. She questioned the legitimacy of the electronic words, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

But how?

She wasn't afraid of being a ghost, she had been like that most of her life up until pretty recently. And by recently, she meant a few years ago when she began publishing her works. But for someone to forcefully tell her to keep quiet? Now that wasn't a deal she could make. A writer has a story to tell. A poet: Many secrets were spilled if you were careful enough to read beneath the flowy words and broken sentences. It was their craft. It was her craft.

But even as she walked up the path to the little church house, she couldn't help but believe the words. She couldn't care less about anyone calling her crazy, but if this weren't some made up thing, if there was something a lot more dangerous happening behind the scenes, she wasn't planning on meeting death anytime soon. That was for another place, at another time.

She walked up to the place slowly, her eyes peering for anything out of the ordinary. She could hear muffled voices not too far away, those of which she could only assume were the "others" the text had mentioned. She froze, deciding on whether or not she wished to show herself just yet. Was she ready? Did she want to meet them? What was going to happen? Was this really just a cult meeting she had found herself in? Were all questions that were running through Astraea's mind. Glancing up, she could see her raven a distance away, watching her. Tod, she had named him. The german word for "death". Closing her eyes and taking a short breath, she moved forward to join the group.

Slowly making her way toward them, she tightened her black cloak around herself, the cool breeze getting to her.
"I assume we're all here for the same reason?... she asked calmly, walking up to them, none of which she recognized. Good.

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