Riven Wight

Northwood Academy

Wanna borrow my fly-fishing gear? Might help with getting a secure snag.

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Izzy, her back already to Trevor, gave a quiet sigh as he continued talking to her. So much for enjoying an uninterrupted walk.
Without missing a beat, she put on a friendly expression and turned back around to face him, hoping he would not see through the façade. She regarded him a moment, his appearance now making it difficult to take him seriously.
“Yeah.” Not that I planned on going home just yet, she added to herself. “I like the exercise.” She gave him a small smile. Deciding it best to be polite and realizing they had never really properly been introduced, she offered him her hand to shake. “I’m Izzy. But you probably already know that.”

Northwood Academy

*Whispers,* It's so quiet in here...

POW!

'Kay. I feel a bit better now.

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The moment the final bell rung, chaos erupted through the halls from kids eager to begin summer break. But Isadora Caldwell, known as Izzy to, well, everyone, sat at the back of the now empty classroom with her head in her arms, listening. Waiting for the halls to clear.
To the students shouting jubilantly in the hall, the bell’s obnoxious song was a promise of long days at the pool, of good times with friends at summer camps. It was a declaration of freedom. But for Izzy, it meant trying to avoid thinking. With not so much as a book assignment due after the summer, it meant long days spent alone, and even longer nights lying awake, with only the shadows to talk to. It marked the beginning of three months of trying to avoid people, especially her younger brothers and one Lucas Hall, who had recently begun to try reconnecting with her and had a job lined up at the local post office. But she always brushed him off, or slipped away. The only thing friends had ever brought her here was heartache and pain.
Indeed, the only promise the bell held for her was that of a long, boring, worthless summer. Though, perhaps not entirely worthless if she could find a paying job opening. She had overheard more of her classmates talking about leaving town for the summer, the lucky dogs, so maybe she would actually have a chance this year. The more she could save, the sooner she could leave after graduation. And at least there were always the wooded areas around the place. They, at least, granted some comfort, a sense of peace so long as she remained in their embrace.
Finally, the sounds died away as the other kids and many of the faculty left. She lifted her head and, to add just a bit more time to be sure she had waited long enough, put the lengthy back half of her straight, chestnut brown hair up in its usual ponytail with a scrunchy she had around her wrist, the front part caressing her face to just above her chin. Satisfied, she grabbed the folder she had with her, and entered the deserted system of hallways.
Gathering her backpack from her locker and ignoring the glares the janitors waiting to start their jobs gave her, she made her way down a set of stairs. With the front doors in sight, her pace quickened, her shoes ready for the taste of earth beneath them, her soul hungry for the solitude that flowed between the trees. Or, at the very least, the openness and freshness of the air beyond the school building.
She paused as she stepped outside, letting the early evening sunlight wash over her face. Only a couple empty cars still sat around the road and gravel-covered school parking lot, making the place look all but abandoned.
With nothing but arguments with her brothers to look forward to at home, Izzy glanced around the grounds and began her usual after-school walk, this time letting her feet carry her wherever they wanted to take her. Though she had her drivers license and a bike at home in the garage, nothing beat the satisfaction of traveling on her own two legs. Even if she would have had her own car.
She headed down the sidewalk, the road beside her riddled with ugly, brown puddles leftover from a rain the previous night. The water sparkled beneath the slowly sinking sun just before one of the dark clouds hanging in the sky blew over it.
Izzy turned her attention to the length of sidewalk awaiting her, wishing she had brought her walking stick with her. Ahead, a boy from her grade walked toward her. She recognized him as Trevor Hansen, a boy with a reputation as classy as his dark hair, white shirt, and khakis. He even wore his pair of glasses in a way that somehow made them look like they might be the next fashion style. Though Izzy never followed the gossip and rumors, in a school as small as hers, it was hard to not know who he was, even though she had never had any classes with him: top of their grade each year, popular... nearly everything Izzy was not.
She moved to the edge of the sidewalk so they could pass eachother, his attention fixated on his cellphone, as a lone car drove by.
Its wheels sliced through a large puddle, sending a deluge onto the sidewalk that drenched him, leaving him standing there with a stunned look on his face.
Izzy could not help but stop and stare as his shock turned to disgust. His once pristine shirt was now a muddied, translucent mess. It clung to his body, accentuating his muscular form beneath and making his chest of dark hairs stand out. She tried to suppress a laugh at the sudden change from looking sophisticated to uncouth, placing her palm on her chin so her fingers would hide the smile pulling at her lips.
Only when he gave a reserved laugh did she realize exactly how long she had been staring at him, and how close they stood to each other. Even so, she could not look away from the sight even as he wiped his glasses off on the only remaining dry portion of his pants and looked to her with his handsome steely blue gaze. Izzy cocked her head slightly, trying to remember if his eyes had always been that shade, but could not recall.
“I, uh... guess I’m all wet.”
The awkwardness of the statement made the laugh lurking at the back of Izzy’s throat burst free in a snigger.
“Yeah, I’d definitely guess that, too,” she said, her lips quirked up in amusement. She glanced to the sidewalk, the darkness of the concrete where the water had hit showing exactly how close she had been to being equally as soaked. “Have fun washing that!” she added as lightly as she could with a nod to his shirt as she began to slowly walk around him, her head turning to take in the comical sight of him for just a moment longer.

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Full Name: Isadora Grace Caldwell
Nickname: Izzy
Age: 17
Grade: High school junior, going into senior come summer's end.

Appearance: She takes after her mother with her chestnut hair (which is shorter around her face, longer in the back, and often kept up in a partial ponytail) and intensely green eyes, though hers are richer in color in both aspects. She has her father’s nose and chin. She is of a slim build and fairly fit, stands at about 5’4”, and her nails are usually painted a different color every week, or whenever she gets bored of their current color. She has contemplated dying her hair something neon, but, alas, her mother won’t allow it.

Personality: Izzy longs to escape her hometown. She yearns for adventure, for something to keep her mind occupied, whether she finds it in a forest she could not walk blindfolded, or the cluttered streets of a large city, even though she is an outdoorsy person, preferring the presence of trees and open spaces over walls or people. In the last few years, she has closed herself off to everyone, becoming a loner, and is fairly wary of the true motives of others. Though a dark cloud haunts her eyes, from the outside, she seems like a mostly content, yet bored senseless, teenager, despite the raging thoughts and emotions inside.

Ticks and Tags: Ticks: She is prone to picking at her nail polish, especially when bored, and her face is extremely expressive. Tags: She usually smells of a mix of the outdoors, and a spicy yet sweet scent courtesy of her favorite perfume.

Cherished Object: A walking stick her grandfather made her before he died when she was eleven. Five feet tall, it has an owl amidst the gnarled top, its wings outstretched. Its tail feathers wrap around then melt into the staff above a leather grip. It has a thin strip of bark left on it just beneath the grip that spirals down to the rubber-tipped bottom, and a small compass and a couple feathers dangle from leather cords attached beneath the grip.

Distinguishing Marks: A scar runs from near her elbow to a couple inches from her wrist on the outside of her left forearm.

Family: Parents: David and Sandra Caldwell. Siblings: Blake (age 12) and Zachary (age 13). Known Grandparents: Jack and Anna Caldwell (deceased).

Other: She hates being called her full name, and always introduces herself as Izzy, so pretty much the entire town calls her by her nickname. Sometimes, she even forgets that that is not her full name... at least until her mother calls her by Isadora, which usually means she is in trouble. She frequently wears a camo patterned jacket and always has on a pair of shoes good for walking. She has a fear of rivers and other rushing bodies of water.

Bio: Born in one of those small towns where everyone knows everyone, Izzy grew up with her loving parents--who serve as officers of the law and make up about a fifth of the town’s police task force--and her two younger brothers.
In such a small place, she also grew up with just about everyone she ever went to school with, from kindergarten to high school. Though she has a pretty good head on her shoulders, school could never really hold her attention, her mind often wandering into daydreams, which just managed to gain her only average marks.
She quickly discovered that many of the denizens of the town were only looking out for their own good, taking any opportunity to give themselves a good name. Because of this, throughout her life, she had very few close friends she fully trusted.
Alas, even those shattered shortly before her freshman year in high school.
On the warm, muggy Saturday evening in mid-August that marked their last weekend of freedom, she and her best friends, Lucas Hall--who was all but her boyfriend at the time--and Amber Jones, decided to head to the best (and only) ice cream shop in town, Coney’s Creamery, before it closed its doors for the fall. Lucas talked the two girls into taking a shortcut through a small wooded area, Izzy taking far less convincing. They soon came to the narrow river that cuts through the town.
A tree that had fallen at the highest and narrowest part of the embankment expanded over the river, its top worn smooth from the many feet that had used it as a bridge. Its trunk glistened in the sunlight from a recent drizzle. The river raged with an alarming ferocity about twenty feet below.
Amber suggested they head back and take the main road, but Lucas climbed onto the trunk and turned back to them, taunting her.
As always, Amber took the bait and determinedly followed after him. Not wanting to let her friends get too far ahead of her, Izzy made to follow, but she had scarcely stepped past the twisting roots when she heard Amber scream.
Izzy looked in time to see Amber hit the enraged waters. She shouted for her friend and jumped from the trunk, but the current had sucked Amber under. She resurfaced a few yards downstream, and grabbed onto a rock protruding from the river, the torrents threatening to tear her from her anchor.
Not far from where Amber clung on for dear life, Izzy noticed an area of the river’s walls embedded with rocks and exposed roots twisting down toward the angry stream, and ran toward it. It made a perfect route to the water.
Lucas tried to stop her, grabbing her arm and forcing her to a halt to keep her from the same fate as Amber, but Izzy pulled free. Without stopping, she grabbed a long branch from the ground, tucked it under her armpit, and all but jumped over the side of the river, a hand gripping one of the many tree roots. She slipped only once, a jagged stone gouging painfully down her forearm, but she ignored it as well as she could and hurried to the water’s edge with Lucas watching from above.
Despite her efforts, Amber could no longer hold on. She slipped off just as Izzy readied to extend the branch, and the undercurrents sucked Amber under once more.
Izzy stood there, her feet against a damp boulder, horrified. She waited for Amber to resurface again, but she never did.
Weeks later, the only thing search parties found was her tattered backpack caught on one of the rocks a couple miles downstream.
Izzy could not help but blame Lucas. If he had not baited Amber, had not tried to stop her from helping her friend... All she had needed was a precious moment more, and she could have saved Amber, but it had been squandered on Lucas.
Having lost one of the only people in the town she had felt close to, that she could actually, truly trust, to the cruelty of the river, and the other to the sickening feeling of betrayal, all she wanted was to get out of that wretched town more than ever.
She found herself distancing herself from everyone. She and Lucas rarely, if ever, spoke after the tragedy. Her mother had her seeing a therapist at least once a week in the nearby capital city.
Izzy hated the way people looked at her for the first couple months after Amber’s death, but even worse was when Amber’s family moved out of town and everything returned to its normal, boring self, Amber becoming little more than the topic of an occasional comment or a warning spoken to keep people away from the river.
Ever so slowly, Izzy began to act a bit more like her cheerful self again, save for the walls she put up, her number of friends dwindling to none. Which was exactly how she wanted it. All the same, she did her best to push the memory of what had happened to Amber to the back of her mind, like the rest of the town seemed to have done, but she still has the occasional nightmare about it, the scar on her arm a permanent reminder.
By the time the end of her junior year rolled around, the dullness of the town had long since crept back beneath her skin, the lack of anything interesting making it that much more difficult to get her mind on anything other than Amber, or the dismal, dreary fate promised her if she stayed in town.
That is, until a few new faces showed up in town for the first time in nearly a decade...

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@Dead Cruiser
You have my interest, if you're still looking.

Filled request

@Sahara

What are some of your RP preferences, and are you more of a free, casual, or advanced writer?

By the way, Spirited Away and Treasure Planet are a couple of my favorite movies! :-D *High-fives you for mutual awesomeness.*

They Live Among Us (Vampiricchild x Siaya)

My Other Characters

Nyaira

Race: Vampire.

Age: Looks around 19, but is somewhere around 400 years old. Just a little older than Alex.

Mission: Previous: To lead the attacks at the local college, where the children of few of the local government officials (and leaders of the largest anti-supernatural group in the area) attend. Current: To find and capture Victoria. Alive.

Other: Knew Alex before he had his revelation and left her and Luc's group, of which she is the second-in-command. Nyaira, which is a name she decided to switch to shortly after she was turned, is a flirt, and once had feelings for Alex when they were companions, but is--and has been for many years--Luc's girl. She was turned just a little before Alex, and they met when they were both recruited into Luc's group around the same time. They became close friends and one of the best pairs of partners in crime. Together, they quickly scaled the ranks, catching Luc's attention. Soon, the trio became a formidable force of their own. When Alex left, shedding his Old World ways, Nyaira was the only thing that stopped Luc from hunting Alex down to try and kill him for his betrayal. Now, she hopes she won't regret that decision, as long ago as it was.

Luc

Race: Vampire

Age: Looks to be in his early to mid twenties, but his real age is unknown.

Mission: Undisclosed as of present.

Other: Has never quite lost his French accent. He is the leader of his group of Old World supernaturals, which he originally started and maintained long before Nyaira and Alex were little more than a thought in this world. Though, through the ages, the members of the group have all switched out numerous times as they were killed or left to work on their own, he has always managed to find more recruits eager to bring about a world where supernaturals ruled over humans and they no longer had to fear whether humans would strike against them. There is a sense of regal power and age about him. He always tries to give the appearance of being calm and collected, but there is always a hint of hostility and a large dose of malice lurking just beneath the surface of his pale features, both of which occasionally break free. Because of his age--which he has never actually told anyone--and extended past with magic, he is capable of sensing the use of magic and even following the trail it leaves. Whether or not he has any magical abilities of his own has yet to be shown.

Jevan

Race: Warlock

Age: Around 505, give or take a couple years.

Mission: Unknown, if any.

Other: Illyad's older brother. Currently living in one of his usual places located in a snowy climate, he has made a name for himself as being one of the most powerful of warlocks. However, he has somehow managed to mostly stay off others' radar to an extent, many people knowing his name but not his face. While he usually stays out of officially joining the various Old World groups, he still associates more with them with their identical ideologies, and will help anyone whose plans line up with his, especially when it will lead more to his gain. Growing up, he had an insatiable hunger for power, and devoted himself to achieving just that. He was a pain to grow up with, and loved tormenting humans (and his brother) whenever he got the chance. Over the years, he has amassed a large wealth, which he has invested to keep it growing, and uses more aliases than most people can even remember in order to prevent any of it from being linked directly to him. Since most only know his name on the supernatural side of things, not his appearance, this has allowed him to take various high-standing positions in the public eye without being recognized. And since he is a master at coming off as deceptively kind and helpful, gaining these positions have come quite easily for him, all things considered. Plus, magic always helps, too.

They Live Among Us (Vampiricchild x Siaya)

Victoria scowled as Alex began speaking. She raised her eyebrows at the prospect of it being better to not know. And that the location of Illyad’s home was “useful information.”
“You’re famous for being involved in all this, I take it?” she asked Illyad. Then the last of what Alex said sunk in, and she frowned. As much as she would love to not have to worry about Luc and Nyaira, she could not help but wonder what, exactly, Alex might have planned for them. “And by ‘out of the way,’ you mean...?” She let the question trail off.

Greetings...

P.S. @Nikki Moonlight, I love your signature!