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1,000 | 14 | 15 | 721 | 234 | Opallum
Location: Sitting on a bench outside nearby Faraday Heights
Interacting With: Mention of
Opallum had succinctly become tired of watching the news reports after the first exciting five minutes had passed by. He didn't care much about whatever other politics were going on in this world. A handshake there, an election here. Soon, entering his sight was . . . Well, he wasn't entirely sure on his guess, but given the abrupt, internal attraction he felt for her when she entered his sight, he could only presume that this woman was a succubus. He had previously asked a loosely held friend what her name was with the implication of approaching her in his tone, but he morosely failed to muster up the courage. Now he had accumulated only two facts about this woman: she was a succubus and her first name was Nikita. Other than that sighting, Opallum came to the conclusion that nothing else too interesting would occur nearby the coffee shop any time soon. He pushed himself away from the window with a muffled grunt and continued his haphazard stroll around the district.
Soon, Opallum found himself sitting on a relatively nice spruce bench beside a street just outside of Faraday Heights. He didn't know why he wanted to be here, but an innate need to be around a multitude of individuals overcame him. Slouching down some in his seat, he shifted about further to secure a somewhat comfortable position and began to idly stare out at the passersby. This was always an interesting activity to partake in. To most, it might have appeared as if Opallum had just been staring out at the traversing crowds. However, he found some excitement in trying to discern the individual Others from the mundane humans -- which, he would admit, is actually quite an arduous task. It should also be noted that his guesses were highly inaccurate. Sometimes, he based the physical criteria for being an Other simply on how much they stood out from a crowd. Pink hair? Perhaps a fae. Abnormally pale skin and impeccably dressed in unnecessarily lavish attire? More than likely a vampire.
Today was an especially horrid time to do this, as most London inhabitants had donned winter clothing: scarves, ski hats, beanies, gloves, and coats. At this point, there was little reason in continuing with this little game of his. Opallum groaned rather loudly, leaning his head back against the top rail of the bench. He steadily went to spread his legs out and set his hands atop his knees. What more was there to do? Granted, it was still early in the morning, and the conglomerate of workers and students would soon come rushing out onto the streets and sidewalks, but even that would take far too long with Opallum's lack of adequate patience. Indeed, waiting was not a specialty of this precise ifrit.
Now, what was there to think about . . . ? The concept of a Human-Other war certainly piqued his interest some, regardless of the more morbid outcome. Would there even be an all-out war? Would the government back the anti-Other group? Was the government even primarily composed of humans? Were there Others in superior governmental positions? This train of thought could drag on for hours, but Opallum wasn't in the mood for going into the logistical aspects of a Human-Other war. All he was sure about was that utter chaos would be a given. Bullets versus the mythoi.
The unfortunate facet of this event is that, much to his disdain, a myriad of bodies would accumulate around this bloodbath, and Opallum enjoyed the presence of both humans and Others in this world far too much to siphon any positive stimulation from such an outcome. Being entirely rational for a brusque moment, Opallum came to the realization that he himself would probably be among those bodies. It was then that his mind sojourned elsewhere to something less bleak. Once more, the ifrit was bored. | "Frankie Knuckles was something else, I'm telling you."
Opallum
Demon - 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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.
| 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."
| 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.
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?"
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."
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."
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.
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."
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
I do like people, but he's probably the last person I want to hang around.
Yukiko Abe
"Not sure who that is."
Should meet her at some point.
Mona
"Huh?"
No goddamn clue who that is.
Faron Romane
"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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
No one I know all too well.
Elise Callaghan
"Sorry, not a clue."
Nothing up in my head about her . . .
Claire O'Malley
"Uhm . . . Eh."
Yeah, no. I don't know this girl.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Some posh-looking fellow. All I know."
There's that "-iel" again. Fishy, fishy . . .
Ethan Cooper
"Not a clue."
Seriously, I don't know this person . . .
Alfie Liau
"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. |
1,001 | 14 | 16 | 2,699 | 1,255 | Yukiko Abe
Location: 30B Faraday Heights (The comfiest lil apartment you ever did see).
Interacting with: Stef and Maggie
Yuki’s expression turned around from her scowl to a warm smile when Stef came out of her room and rinsed her plate. “Just some egomaniac on the news, nothing you need to worry about Stef” she said with her signature smile. “You’ve got time for a shower sweetie, just make sure you dry your hair, it’s chilly out!” She said getting up once her coffee machine let out a small beep. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard above the sink and poured the dark brown savior of her day into it. Clutching it with both of her hands and blowing on it so that she could drink it as soon as humanly possible. Maybe ‘humanly’ was the wrong choice of words.
“I’ll have to take a longer break today, I’ve got to pick up some books at the library today – so if you want to go home at noon you can, but I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to stay and tend the shop with John for the hour that I should be gone.” Yuki said. Today was the day, she was going to reveal her identity to Stef and there was something about that she found terrifying. Scratch that, there was nothing about it she didn’t find horrifying; in fact she found herself dreading the conversation already, her heartbeat quickening thinking about it.
slurp
She took her seat once more and glared angrily at the news. Maggie exited her room and Yuki once more changed her expression. “Morning Maggie.” Yuki said warmly, glancing out the window at the snowstorm that was starting up. She snatched the remote up, tired of what she was hearing and decidedly changed the channel to the weather network. Seemed the storm would be continuing for some time today.
slurp
Eve Lumière
Location: Hell/Faraday Heights 24A
Mention of: Sleepy head (Blake)
Eve rolled over sleeping. She dreamed an innocently perverse dream about an island full of men, battling for her affection and the winner was a fallen angel who gave her a wilted rose and dove into the ocean. And then Channing Tatum was there, and that was great. It was a great dream.
Her eyes flicked open, once Eve had awoken – that was it. She was awake. She stretched her leg and a bottle of beer hit the floor, rolling underneath her bed. She groaned at the noise and threw her duvet over her head. It was too early for Eve. It was too early for anyone with half of a mind and a conscious and yet – the world was currently functioning. Eve was technically function, though that might be somewhat generous all things considered the current state of her mentality. She glanced out her apartment window and saw hell. Hell wasn’t actually all fire and brimstone, some people might like that. So hell likes to find new and interesting ways to fuck you over. Eve knew that if she ever ended up in the big ol slammer she would be placed in the middle of goddam Alaska.
She rolled over onto her side and grumbled quietly, something about the lack of difference between here and Canada, something about how someone was out to screw her over. Mostly gibberish.
She decided it was time for a shower and unless her ears deceived her she didn’t hear Blake just yet so she dragged herself out of bed and zombie shuffled her way over to the shower. Standing in it and letting the hot water fall down her. She sighed as her skin stood up, some of it being warm and some of it being chilled. She impatiently squeezed some shampoo onto her hand and lathered her hair scrubbing it. She had to look nice if she was going to get some snow day nooky later on. Luckily once she showered she could hangout and not have to worry for much longer, the bar didn’t open until five at night which was approximately half the reason Eve bothered to work there anyway.
She shut the water off after applying her conditioner and rinsing that out of her hair as well. Stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her hair and body, taking a seat on the couch in the living room. Seemed like the sleepy head wasn't up yet. Eve though about asking her to go for breakfast once she did wake up. | Eve Lumière.
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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
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 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."
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’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."
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."
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. "
#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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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. "
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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."
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."
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."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"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."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"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."
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."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"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."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"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."
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."
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."
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. |
1,002 | 14 | 17 | 709 | 301 | 27B, Faraday Heights
Interacting with: Andrew and Katie
The alarm clock went off, way too soon as always. Claire slipped out of bed, grumbling as she slapped the alarm clock into submission. She got herself dressed, picking out a very conservative dark blue dress for today. Her class was starting the dissections today, but thankfully, they had switched over to virtual ones, making life much easier.
The young witch flipped on the telly just in time to see that the Unseelie were throwing a blizzard at London. "Great thinking, guys. Make them stop fearing and hating us by paralyzing the largest city in the country." Worse yet, the schools were closed. Another day without a paycheck.
She stopped grousing as she saw Andrew. Her fellow member of the Circle had given her an evil look as soon as she'd said she was a summoner, but despite that, they'd managed to get through the days without strangling each other. "Morning, Andrew. Care for some eggs today?" Katie appeared to still be asleep. Lucky girl. | Liam Woodsworth
Dhampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Elliot Liam Woodsworth
He prefers the informality of Liam
| Date of Birth |
October 19, 1992
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Liam works as an IT assistant at a local tech shop, mixes music as a hobby, and volunteers at a blood bank for his less savory needs. Yes, the last one is morally dubious, but he’s not going to be around long enough to actually care, now will he? On the music note, he tends to whip up tracks with heavy bass and high tempos, as he finds them euphoric...almost as euphoric as the recreational drugs that may eventually overtake his work ethic.
| In-Depth Appearance |
”That poor boy...darling, do you eat?
”Damn my boy, have you seen a doctor? Pale as a ghost, ya are.”
Sickly. Liam is sickly. He is tall, gaunt, pale...and he isn’t even fucking sick most of the time. He blames it on his lineage, daddy was an awfully stereotypical bloodsucker. Maybe it’s the rapidly degenerating body? Maybe it’s his refusal to indulge his hemo-cravings until absolutely necessary? He doesn’t care, really. Liam’s got places to be, stunts to do, and a short life to live. This is apparent in his messy medium-long brown hair, disheveled fashion of band shirts and loose ripped denim, and a general air of “I really don’t give a fuck, come not give a fuck with me”. His brown eyes speak of a troubled past and a carefree future, of resignation and of the triumphant freedom in that revelation. Liam’s voice is soft, enticing, as though it itself realized the throat it was bound to was horribly unfitting and made a show to be better. To be a selling point.
When you’re a local pariah, ya have to have something going for ya, right?
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Morbid ♦ Relaxed ♦ Indulgent ♦ Welcoming ♦
There is a comfort in knowing death is coming.
You become prepared. You enjoy every moment, every pain, every sensation that smolders on the neurons. Liam has accepted this, and he relishes it. It’s relaxing, and he exudes this calm repose around him. Those that aren’t aware of his supernatural bastard status are always laid back around him, if not worried by his random pains and sickly pallor. Those that are...well, he’s not obnoxious enough to warrant a lynch mob yet. But who knows what’ll come in the future... sure would save him pill money.
Pill money that could go towards more fun pills! Since he knows his time is short, Liam takes every chance he gets to explore the unsavory and wonderful of the world. Drugs, alcohol with dubious origins and long names, ancient rituals that cause really weird spirit trips, (he had to give a “favor” to a Witch for that one but damn was it worth it. Ever see ancient cosmic deities play limbo with a meteor belt? Liam has.), are all things he has and is willing to try. Dangerous stunts are also kinda fun, when the crippling pains aren’t hitting hard. There are no limits to what he’ll try. Of course it’s dangerous, sometimes deadly. Sometimes it’s kind of like daring Death to make its move.
Sadly, this applies to people too. He blazes through relationships and sex like it’s nothing but a carnal transaction. Maybe one day he’ll find someone that quences his cravings. Likely? Liam doesn’t think so.
But in all respects, Liam wants friends. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants stories passed around about him after he moves on from Edgetoun. Stories about that crazy ass pale kid that did a somersault off a building after three lines of coke and a tab of acid, lived, and then ran a 500. Okay...that’s excessive and he’d probably be dead after the first part of that, but...the point is there. As such, he doesn’t want to hurt people either. The option to get that street shit from dealers was a tempting one, but that blood could come from anyone. Anything. Through...less than fun means. At least at the blood donor center, that was willingly given. No violence or pain, even if it’s stealing...he tries to take what’s in abundance, none of the important rare shit. He doesn’t deserve that.
In the end, when you have a very short time to experience life, you shouldn’t waste that life on brooding and sorrow. Get out there, live...no matter what everyone says. No matter if you’re the monster they say you are.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Electronic music No words. No hidden meanings. Just raw emotion. It’s delightfully primal.
✔Adrenaline rushes Ya know when you’re on a coaster and your balls just go right up in your stomach? Yeah. That’s what I like.
✔New things So much to do, so much to see, so much to- Alright, I’ll stop. Sorry.
✔Fall England’s nice in the fall. Cloudy, damp...it’s comforting.
✔A good adventure graphic novel The art, man! Plus, less words, faster reading, meaning more awesome shit for me.
✔Jaffa cakes Tiny. Portable. Orangey. They are my one true love.
✔So many drugs. Specifically acid and coke, and any eldritch shit he can get. Oh the places you will go…
✘Staying home As much as I’d like it to, my mix board doesn’t usually talk to me. Usually.
✘Those who waste what they have Almost everyone has so much left to live. So much to give to society. Why the fuck would you throw that away?
✘Sulky folks Aw, cheer up mate. Wanna grab ice cream? Fucking love ice cream.
✘Violence Come on. Talk your shit out. You start busting heads, I’ll split you the fuck up. Got it?
✘Salad. Or anything vaguely green. It's crispy fucking water. That's gross.
✘Sunny weather. Fuck you, dad.
✘Dependency. I'm a strong, independent abomination. Well...less strong, more independent. Ya get me, yeah?
| History |
The fall brought with it cool air, warm homes, a time for families to come together…
And produce an awful bastardization of life.
Liam came into the world a screamer. Like he already knew, day one out of the womb, that he was already on his way out. He got all of his screaming out then.
Born to a middle class mother and a bloodsucking poppa that bolted the minute he knew one of his dark little swimmers hit home. Yeah, typical daddy issues, blah blah...Liam never really cared much past passive aggressive comments and normal annoyances. His mother Trisha lived with her parents then, the three of them taking care of this sad, ill child. It was rough, and they never really understood what he was. The father had the eventual courtesy, about five years in, to inform poor Trisha about what exactly she’d brought into the world. She didn’t believe the fucker, of course.
Until Liam really started liking raw meat.
Not the meat itself, but the leftover blood in the package. Terrified, confused, and just feeling awful all around, she had to reorganize her life and her idea of parenting to fit this child. She packed up and they moved to the countryside.
And so began the “Don’t Bite” motto of life. Liam learned not to hurt folks to stop his own pain, to enjoy what he had...like a mother that didn’t try and kill him with a stake. She cared more to give her son what he needed...blood. Her blood. Just enough to keep him sated. Liam learned respect, caring, and restraint, qualities sometimes not found in his full-blooded kin.
There was a rough spot in secondary school when Liam learned that he wasn’t going to live a long, happy life. The pain was a sign. The slightly quick growth, another. And once he ran into a couple vampires that were flying under the radar, they made him understand how low he was. That he was a mistake. Suddenly, parties became enticing, every new drink and drug an experience worth dying for. Trisha had to go through hoops to keep doctors from drawing his blood, let alone run any drug tests on him. Their relationship was strained around then, and once Liam graduated he left for London to cool down and mature.
Fast-forward, and Liam’s working a menial job to make ends meet in Edgetoun. IT work fit him, since he spent a large portion of his teens messing with electronic instruments and computers his few friends had. Plus, lots of people needed help with their newfangled gadgets and gizmos, and he was happy to help and talk to them. Recently, he’s back in touch with his mother and patching things up...while not telling her about all the crazy shit he does for fun. No need to worry her.
But how can she not be worried when her pariah of a son is on the ass end of a bloody race war?
| Family |
Trisha Woodsworth | Mother : A kind, gentle woman, with a fair bit of paranoia. You get that when your kid’s kind of on the chopping block.
| Strengths |
Incredibly open-minded
Curious
Protective
| Weaknesses |
No real restraint
Locked to his path, sees no other future; “Blinders” on
Lacks any sort of commitment
The Other
| Theme Song |
Marry The Night – Lady Gaga
”I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen
Live passionately tonight”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens 5B
| Extra Information |
Liam has a lizard named Squeaks. That fucker knows shit. |
1,003 | 14 | 18 | 896 | 389 | John Taylor
Location: Faraday Heights Room 28A
Interacting With: Mariska
The shuffling of a body was the first thing to rouse John from uneasy sleep. The frigid air came and kicked him awake, causing a grumble to escape his lips and his eyes to creak open. Blearily he moved his head around in an effort to identify the culprit of his awakening, blinking the sleep from his eyes before focusing on the silhouette of Mariska. The next couple of moments were dedicated to working the stiffness out of his body, joints popping and muscles straining as they stretched after good deal of hours in the same uncomfortable position. With a final yawn John was able to stand up and face the day, "Yay." was all he could think to himself as he shuffled to his room, giving a Mariska a half hearted wave as he did so.
Careful not to wake Mordred, if he was even here, John entered his room and began to switch of yesterdays work close for something new. Where Mariska's room was mostly clean, Johns room was mostly a chaotic mess to the outside eye. Most of the room was dominated by the bed large bed and art desk. The bed was a mess of blankets and comforters, almost never made as a personal choice, it had seen better days and it was high time he got a new one. Tossing his clothes on the messy bed, john dug through his closet to find an acceptable outfit for work. black t-shirt, red flannel, and dark blue jeans. With a hair tie to bring his hair into a tight pony, John was ready for the day. Taking a moment to rid his mouth the affliction of morning breath, John strolled into the kitchen and began weighing his options for breakfast. "What's the on your mind? Not usually breaking out the sass this early in the morning." John said, head still in the fridge before picking out a package of sausage links. John felt like he wasn't going to like the news either way, so why not start the day of with some pancakes?
With that he started the sausages before busting out the easy make pancake mix, not the best mix on the market but nothing some cinnamon and vanilla couldn't fix. | John Taylor
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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.
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. |
1,004 | 14 | 19 | 792 | 4,390 | Mariska Costas
Location: Faraday Heights; 28A
Interacting With: John Taylor ()
Mariska continued to sip away at her water, having since switched away from the news feeds and eye-roll worthy comments underneath the silly little manifesto to more enjoyable and pertinent outlets...such as seeing if her inbox had any new messages. Last night was a bit of a doozy, travelling in the snow just to perform for a polite, if picky, panel of senior citizens. Mariska didn't mind the requests that were constantly thrown her way - but really how often did someone want to really hear Strange Fruit anyway and at what point did it stop being a request and start being a very subtle, very rude sort of joke - but when the matter of settling the fee was brought up with the staff, hearing that she wasn't the first, second, or even third choice was just a slap in the face.
The walk home was exhausting. Mariska thrived in the rain. Snow was not the rain. Tired from a less than ideal venue and drained by the time she did manage to make it back, was it now too much to ask that the staff send a little notice of thanks to her email? And yet, even after two quick refreshes...nothing at all.
Fortunately, her stirrings had awoken John which meant that food was within the realm of possibility. Mariska wasn't much for cooking. When she wasn't enjoying the catches of the day or popping around for a nice bit of Grecian salad, both of which didn't require effort (with the salad only requiring her to stand in line), she was at the whims of takeaway or the menu at whatever joint had need of her talents. One would think that a life long lived would come with learning to cook a decent meal...but Mariska never made the time. Now that one of her mates knew how to fry up a sausage...well that was one problem taken care of.
"Just the headlines, really. Vindictive little Fae doing wonders for diplomatic relations and some pretentious sort thinking murder's fine if it's done to someone different." Mariska spoke quite casually, though she punctuated her words with a heavy sigh. The sad reality was that the possibility was real that this little manifesto would just be the first of many. "But you agree with me, right? The Mortal Fist would be the name of some teenager's start up band, yeah? Like they do covers of Joy Division or something. I'm no PR expert but I'd go with a different name if I was some kinda misinformed killer type."
Mariska stood up, pushing the chair out behind her, in order to grab another bottle of water from the fridge. "Toss a couple links onto the pan for me, would you? I haven't eaten since yesterday's breakfast."
She remained ever so glad that at least one of her flatmates knew how to whip up something edible. That really should've been how the ad went. | Jorōgumo || The Binding Bride
Basic Information
| Name |
Naomi Ishiguro
| Date of Birth |
The exact date is long lost to time, but Naomi celebrates a birthday on January 1. She is at least four hundred years old, birthdays stop mattering after a time.
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Asexual
Hers is sex not for desire nor for need, but a different sort of pleasure.
| Occupation |
Have you ever watched the telly and heard a pleasant voice on an advert or announcing an ad break? Perhaps you've heard a voice on the radio that isn't just the disc jockey or the useless weather report, but a voice selling a product you suddenly find yourself wholly interested in. Naomi is one of those voices. Her vocal talents have taken her places, from fast food commercial narration to audiobooks, and now, at present, to a late night call in program on the radio. A Voice Actress and Radio Personality.
Of course, everyone has their fronts. Naomi's true occupation, such as it is, is far less reputable.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Of the many phrases and sayings in the world, one of them happens to be 'you have a face for radio' which is an indirect way of calling someone not attractive enough to be on television. Or, rather, simple an offhanded remark to call someone ugly. Naomi has never heard that saying, and often gets asked why she chooses to stay behind the camera, isolated in sound booths and in radio studios. Naomi looks quite great for age, that age being somewhere in the realm of five hundred twenty, give or take. She's aged like the finest of wines, with a blemish free face that, despite being the visage of a woman in her late thirties, still seems as youthful as if she were in her early thirties.
Naomi is an older woman that doesn't let a little number like age hold her back. She's tall, coming in at 5'10", with a rather svelte figure, though with the right amount of eye catching curvature to the hips. There's a hunger to be found in her deep blue, almost violet, eyes that only increases when the cosmetics draw attention to them; what the hunger is is often misinterpreted as something carnal...which is exactly by design.
Naomi's hair never seems to grow beyond its current length, though its style ranges from a full volume affair to a messier, more sensual style; regardless of the style it always serves to enhance her present look. Said looks depend on what she manages to pull out of the closet on any particular day. Naomi doesn't like to toot her own horn or anything, but she pays little attention to fashion trends or styles and simply wears what looks good - and considering Naomi is someone that looks good in damn near anything, her options are quite endless. When she isn't wearing heels, she's barefoot - which is to say she's barefoot about seventy percent of the time, often removing her heels while working or travelling long distances on public or private transport.
Naomi flaunts what she has, but not in an overly obvious way. The flip of the hair, the sideways look, the well timed smile, subtle tricks to ensnare and capture the attentions of the younger adventurous types...or the older and bored ones. And this is to say nothing of her voice, which doesn't have any hypnotic bend to it, but it just sounds like velvet in the ears...albeit velvet coated with a rather posh accent...that sometimes sounds absolutely put on.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Venomous ♦ Predatory ♦ Immoral ♦ Lascivious ♦
Some people that have seen Naomi looking towards them have had similar thoughts of 'this must be too good to be true' and if only they knew how right they were. Though when she's out and about (or offering advice and facilitating discussion to the lonely young people that call in) it's true that her appearance and attitude showcase a flirtatious, teasing demeanor...but most, if not all, of that is a perfected act. Naomi doesn't care about others, though humans especially so, and them being so easily manipulated by such simple things as a wink only reinforces her belief that those that fall into her web deserve what's coming to them.
For Naomi, her little...let's call them 'indiscretions' are just a fun little game, one where she sets the rules and conditions so that she always manages to win. She isn't all bad, despite what her hobby and true occupation might have one believe, she's actual quite insightful and genuinely seems to take an interest in helping those that call her for advice. Most of the topics tend to be about love or sex, but even still she speaks not as some stuffy expert explaining things for idiots, but rather as one friend offering sage-like advice to another. Naomi even waves to the neighbors, gives all her change from transactions to the cashiers, and has talked up charity organizations on air.
But of course, don't let that fool you.
It's a shame, then, that she's too far gone down her own long twisted beliefs to become a good person, because she comes so close when she's working. Of course, that could all just be part of her intricate little game as well, after all...no one ever suspects the nice ones.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Online dating; she maintains several profiles on various websites...though not for hookups.
✔ Horror movies. Are there any better comedies out there than those?
✔ Adult entertainment; it utterly fascinates her the depths people will go to find odd pleasures
✔ Gambling; Not really an addiction or anything, but she enjoys the thrill of a game of chance
✔ Red wine, aged, of course
✔ Commercial breaks; she is just vain enough to love it when she hears her ads in person
✔ String instruments
✘ People. Just in general. People.
✘ Fire, be it from the fireplace or a match or a candle
✘ Wasps, especially the big ugly ones
✘ Lizards...they're incredibly gross
✘ She could go without birds, now that you mention it
✘ Mirrors
✘ Music produced on machines
| History |
There's a folk tale in Japan that tells of spiders gaining 'magical powers' and what a terrifying thought that would be. But of course, such tales could very well have a basis in fact...and Naomi is living proof of that. For the first four centuries of her life, Naomi had no name or identity, she was born and she had to do what it took to survive: trapping smaller insects in webs, being clever to avoid larger predators, watch and do nothing as others in her family were eventually picked off for being stupid. Time had little meaning for Naomi because she had no concept of it. To her, a year might as well have been a night. The only indication that things were changing was the expansion of beings that walked on two legs and swatted away the insects of the world without so much as a thought. A curious Naomi once tried to trap a human in the same manner she trapped all her food, but her web only served to annoy the humans.
Yet Naomi continued to live on. And she continued to grow.
She didn't quite know when it happened, again what did she know of time, but one morning she found that she felt...different, and that she had grown larger still. It was when a human came across her path and stopped to speak to her that she knew something was wrong. Naomi, then taking the appearance of a pale, black haired, young woman, had woken up as looking no different than a human, albeit one who was without clothing. She looked like a human...but she did not forget what she was, and neither did her body. That unfortunate human who was overcome with a carnal desire upon sight was dragged off to a cave and Naomi feasted for days.
Naomi became a Jorōgumo, a spider that, after living for four centuries, became able to transform herself into a seductive woman in order to trap men and devour them. In her body was not blood but venom and her hair doubled as webbing strong enough to bind a human...she no longer had to fear them. Naomi then lived as a predator, living near enough to human settlements to gather attention just to lead the hapless victim to her dwellings where she took her time savoring what came next. Though her human appearance was nigh indistinguishable from the real thing, she came to learn that any reflection, be it from glass or water or any reflecting surface, would show her true self: her arachnid form. Over the years she became able to stay a human woman for longer periods of time, though she cannot maintain the form forever. Even in her present state she can go maybe ten hours straight and that's if she's feasted recently. She is, after all, human in appearance only.
Naomi spent her years as Jorōgumo being a predator. She's long lost count of the men and women she's captured, poisoned, and gotten rid of over the years. Of course when a disturbing number of people go missing mysteriously...questions start getting asked and panic starts setting in. But of course, Naomi never left a body behind. Bones? Sure. But never a body. With a monumental chip on her shoulder and the transformation ability on lock, Naomi has only adapted her tactics with time. Now she is more than willing to let prey walk into her traps than to lure them herself. She enjoyed a great run of being an absolute monster but now that Others have been revealed to the world...matters have certainly become complicated.
People already hate spiders. What would they think of a spider like Naomi?
| Family |
Naomi considers the spiders that live in her home to be her family. For...for obvious reasons.
| Strengths |
Resourceful. She'd have to be to keep up her activities this long
Meticulous
Crafty
| Weaknesses |
Insatiable bloodlust
Irrational hatred for most things
Easily panicked
The Other
| Theme Song |
Sober – Elli Ingram
”And when the lights get low
And I let it take control
And I’m feeling so alone
One more sip and then it’s gone
And then I lose my soul
To the poison then I’m on one
But I can’t let it go to waste
And I love the way it taste”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 4A
| Extra Information |
She claims to be able to talk to spiders...and she probably can. Why else would she let them hang out on her walls.
Solitary Fae || Yōsei
Basic Information
| Name |
'K', spelled as 'Kei' on official documents. 'K' is the very short form of her 'real name' which is a series of given names given to her over the years. Kei was the first, so 'Kei' it is.
| Date of Birth |
July 14, during the Meiji Period. For the sake of ease, she picked the year 1995 because it sounded funny
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Pansexual
Kei just loves and that's all there is to it.
| Occupation |
In the most technical sense she's unemployed. However, she is often seen doing altruistic activities, from volunteering with the elderly, to helping out at charity functions, and being a translator for the hearing impaired at large social functions. In the broad sense of the term occupation, Kei would be a Volunteer. She doesn't take salaries but survives on both goodwill and generous donations, but she never asks for them.
| In-Depth Appearance |
For someone that is so quiet Kei's sense of style is rather loud. Though rather short, standing at just about five feet flat, she stands out due to her eccentric choice in attire. Rare is the day when Kei isn't wearing clashing, bright colors or mismatched articles of clothing or bogged down with so many accessories that she sounds like a piggy bank when she walks. There's a very childish quality to her style, like what one would imagine a child would dress like if their parents just let them go wild for a day.
Though Kei wears bright, gaudy clothing, the brightest thing about her is her smile. She's always smiling, even towards people that she's never met, and her wide grin is matched by the wonder that is clear in her bright brown eyes. How her eyes are so bright is a mystery, but they're the brightest browns Kei has ever seen. Much like with her clothing, Kei's hair is eccentric though has periods where the style doesn't change, just the color. Often she'll go blonde for a month and then spend half a year with brown hair before deciding that she felt like streaking her hair in a rainbow.
What makes her vibrant style all the more odd - as if there weren't enough oddities as is - is that she doesn't look like a child; she actually looks like an adult, albeit one that still possess the quality of life that several youths have. But there are blemishes on her skin covered up by cosmetics (which area also eyecatching and vibrant) and a sort of weary-eyed tiredness behind the wide wonderment. She's an especially slim woman, but with that comes a flexibility that always manages to get applause and oohs and aahs from those she's entertaining.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Childish ♦ Eternally Optimistic ♦ Vibrant ♦ Altruistic ♦
Kei only cares about one thing on any given day and that is making sure that anyone she meets leaves with a smile or, failing that, a brightened mood. She treats the world and the things she sees with a childlike wonder, impressed by the simplest things no matter how often she sees them. Kei is the type of person who is amazed every time someone turns on the lights in a dark room. This also has he unfortunate side effect of her being rather naive, or at least quite good at pretending to be naive. Kei doesn't see the bad in anyone, still believing after all these years that everyone is a wonderful person and that so-called 'bad people' are just people that don't know how good they truly are.
Of course, because things are rarely so sunshine and rainbows as Kei would like to believe, she has been taken advantage of countless times in her life. People have taken every bit of money she had on her person and she would still wave them goodbye and wish them well. That she is so positive could very much be seen as dangerous, after all who was always so damn happy, but with Kei that's just how she is. There's no deep ulterior motive, she's just happy to meet you and happier to help you if she can.
Even still, Kei has felt the years and the countless instances of strife, from small conflicts to larger, world affairs, and though she has remained so upbeat all this time...it's definitely taken its toll on the girl. Her greatest fear is in finding out what would happen if she should wake up one day and not feel positive. She doesn't believe she could handle such a powerful mood swing so she'll continue to smile until it hurts.
And even then she'll endure it so long as it makes people happy.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Children, and their innocent laughter and joy
✔ The satisfaction that comes with helping others
✔ Ice Cream. Such a sweet treat should be enjoyed year round!
✔ Walking under an umbrella on a rainy day, with company or alone
✔ Stand up comedians, but not the super raunchy ones.
✔ Handheld games, they're so colorful!
✔ Making snow angels or really any weather-related activity
✘ Rude, vulgar people
✘ Being ignored
✘ People that don't thank others for holding the door open
✘ Spicy foods, why do they have to be so hot?
✘ Action movies
✘ People that spend most of their day looking at their phones. You're missing out on life!
✘ Loud, abrasive music
| History |
For the longest time, Kei was alone. She was born, she believes, but she knew only the faces of her parents and the hushed whispers before things went dark. When she awoke, she was alone and lost, living near a mountain in relative seclusion. Animals fled from her; perhaps they could sense the magical energies present inside of her, magical energies which never seemed to manifest themselves. Still, Kei, then a nameless fairy, tried to keep a positive outlook on her situation. She was surrounded by such beauty, after all, the trees and grass, the clouds in the sky, the wind in the air...what was not to love about, well...life?
Her first meeting with others came when her ears picked up the sounds of what sounded like singing. Curious, Kei followed her ears to find a gathering of humans who weren't singing but rather praying as they buried one of their own. Kei didn't say a word, she merely observed this curious act until it ended. As the humans were returning to their homes, Kei met the gaze of a young man; she waved to him but he was whisked away before any further interaction could be made. The man came back a few days later and attempted to converse with Kei. Kei had never heard the language before, but enjoyed listening to the speech. The man believed that she was like the spirits in the stories, the ones that could bring the dead back to life.
The man took her back to his home where his mother had fallen gravely ill. He wanted Kei to save her but the only comfort Kei could bring was to make the sickly woman's last days brighter. The mother passed on with a smile and Kei was welcomed among the humans as someone to ease the transition fro life to death. She didn't exactly understand this, but she was needed, she was loved, and she was happy. Kei was given the name Kei, after the first man's mother, and she lived among the people, learning their language at a rapid pace. It wasn't long before she was actually having conversations with everyone.
But time is a cruel mistress and the people Kei lived with eventually succumbed to their own end. But Kei wouldn't let sadness keep her down, she couldn't. So she traveled, finding another village and living among them. While she couldn't raise the dead, she could ease the dying and that was a valued commodity in those days. Kei's heart knew no evil and is what allowed her to remain so youthful and childish well into her years.
With the advent of continental travel, Kei's horizons expanded, and for the longest time she simply found a place to settle and learn and interact with the population. Spoken languages were a minor hurdle but she learned quickly. Kei took to learning sign language because it was international. Her travels just so happened to coincide with her stay in the U.K. and because coincidences are a real problem, so too did the world find out about the Others. She counts herself among them, being that she is one of them, but she hopes that this revelation can usher in peace between the two vastly different cultures.
Even Others know how to smile, after all.
| Family |
Kei considers everyone she's lived with to be her family, and that is far too long a list. But she remembers them all. Or...well...most of them.
| Strengths |
Never in a bad mood
A people person
Honest to a fault
| Weaknesses |
Naive, very much so
Easily swayed
Gets lost fairly frequently
The Other
| Theme Song |
Hurry Up! – noanowa
”Being alone makes me feel like I’m about to lose all the time
When I was sad, when I was happy,
you were by my side all the time
It was a miracle
The world I saw with you
It’s like soaring lightning in a storm
I wish tirelessly
for tomorrow to be a great day
For it to be a great day”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 7B or with anyone who lets her stay over
| Extra Information |
Negative |
1,005 | 14 | 20 | 1,621 | 202 | Location: Churchill Gardens, 3B → The Early Bean
Interacting With: -
The first thing Miles notices when he wakes up is the cold, because of fucking course the radiator’s broken down again.
The second thing he notices, as he burrows further into the confines of his bed, is the metaphorical ice pick lodged into his brainstem. Honestly, Miles finds it ridiculous that even as a Fae, he had to suffer the drawbacks of copious ingestion of alcohol. They were, after all, magical beings from a separate dimension. You’d think they’d be able to get shitfaced without suffering the consequences.
But alas, that was not the case, and he had the sinking feeling that the effects of one too many vodka shots would continue to linger throughout the rest of the day.
It isn’t until ten minutes later, when a particularly strong gust of wind hits him right in the face, that Miles tumbles out of bed with an agonised moan, still wrapped in a cocoon of scratchy cotton sheets. He prays - actually prays - with all his heart that Mrs. Atkinson from the local salon would ring him up to say that he didn’t have to come into work that day, thus allowing him to spend his day curled up in a ball of self-pity, but that hope quickly dissolves with the ringing of the alarm clock, and he lets out another noise of nauseated distress before reluctantly pulling himself to his feet.
Miles goes about his morning routine with a gruelling slowness, a far cry from his usual bouncing-off-the-walls persona. Every movement was an aching slog through his own personal hell, and it took him a good while before he started feeling less like a zombie. Of course, he still felt like shit, but he almost believed that after a cup of coffee, he could get through the day without keeling over and dying.
Key word: almost.
It takes him way too long, but Miles gets things done (courtesy of a face full of ice-cold water that’d sent him shrieking in surprise). His breath is minty fresh from brushing his teeth three times, and what used to be a cowlick-ridden bedhead has been successfully wrangled into a fauxhawk with half a can of hairspray. Throwing on whatever that’s clean - which, surprise surprise - consisted of a leather jacket, a black t-shirt and a pair of too-tight jeans, Miles makes a quick stop in front of the bathroom mirror with an armful of makeup to make sure that he no longer looked like he’d been out partying till five in the morning. Sure, he could just use a glamour, but he really couldn’t be bothered to keep it up the entire day, and with the recent anti-Other sentiment brewing amongst the humans, minimising the risk of getting found out sounded like the best course of action.
Now he’s probably gonna get yelled at for showing up late to work, but he’d be damned if he stepped out of his front door looking like a hot mess. He had a reputation to maintain.
...Well, it wasn’t a very good reputation, but you get the picture.
Pulling on a pair of black Doc Martens, woolly gloves, a scarf, plus an extra hoodie under his jacket because goddamn was it cold, he casts a glance back at his disaster zone of an apartment before venturing out into the frigid winter. Those fucking Unseelie Fae, Miles thinks to himself, lips curling into a scowl. He didn’t even have to watch the news to guess that this was all their doing.
On his way to The Hair Lair - as he’s taken to calling the salon he works at - Miles wanders into a coffee shop, because hey, since he was already late, there wasn’t any harm getting his hands on a cuppa first, was there? And he’s sure that Mrs. Atkinson would appreciate him getting her a coffee as well… or at least that’s what he tells himself as he strides up to the counter, ordering two cappuccinos and contemplating a muffin.
Whether it was a stroke of bad luck, or simply just bad timing, Miles had somehow managed to miss every last bit of information regarding the Others on TV, with the one in the corner moving on from the morning news to its scheduled daytime programming. The Unseelie Fae’s continued protest, the Creature Rights Act, not to mention the murder of Nick Bloodfang at the hands of a group calling itself ‘Helsing’ - were all but unknown to him. But as the saying goes; what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, and he felt certain that once he got to work, he’d be caught up on all the latest gossip. | | 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?
| 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).
| 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.”)
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 3B
| Extra Information |
- |
1,006 | 14 | 21 | 1,552 | 2,234 | Stefani Roche
Location: 30B Faraday Heights (Cosy central)
Interacting With: Yuki and Maggie
Putting her washed and dried plates back into the dinky cupboards of the shared kitchen, Stef shook her head. "Nah, I'll pass. My hair takes a hella long time to dry, even with a hair-dryer." She answered with a roll of her eyes. She loved her hair, but why did it have to be so goddamn thick?!
As Yuki continued talking, Stef picked up on the slightest bit of discomfort in her words and expression - hidden well enough, but it was still there. Deciding it would be wise not to pry - not to mention she'd look paranoid as heck if it turned out to be nothing - Stef didn't mention it, instead answering Yuki's query.
"I'll have to see. If John entertains me enough, I'll stay - but I might swing by Queen's place, see if Megumi wants to play in the snow or something. I don't think she'll be at school today." She said with a grin - she was sure the little girl enjoyed snow just as much as herself. And Alastair would likely be happy for Stefanie to take her off his hands for a few hours too. Asshat probably wanted to get wasted. "I'll go and get dressed - oh, hey Mags." Offering up a quick wave and smile to Maggie, Stef ambled back to her room, closing her door behind her and looking it over.
It was a hella cosy room. The lights had shades over them, as Yuki had been kind enough to nail them up for her. it was a lot easier than having a dimmer switch put in, not that Stef would have been happy with the effort and money that would have gone towards something like that. The rest of her room reminded her enough of her bedroom in Colorado, but not so far that she felt homesick each time she came in. The colour scheme had become a lot darker, for example - simply for her eyes. Dark purples and blues absorbed any sunlight that would filter through the window, far better than a whitewashed wall would. The bed was a 3/4 one, a definite upgrade from her single that she'd had since she was 4. It was piled high with pillows, fluffy throws, and several types of plush animals. A desk sat opposite her bed, with various things piled on top of it - paper, straighteners and curling tongs; make-up scattered here and there, with a paintbrush haphazardly set in her hairbrush pot.
Ah, her paintings. One of the more expensive things Stef saved up for now were art supplies. Sketchpads, oil paints, watercolours, even a box with charcoal in it. That stuff was messy, but she enjoyed using it all the same. She even had some crayons if Megumi ever wanted to doodle with her.
Slotting a CD in her player, Stef got dressed to the upbeat sound of The Killers - All these things that I've done.
"These changes ain't changing me, the cold-hearted boy I used to be..." Humming along to the lyrics, Stef tamed her hair into a ponytail, straightening the ends so they looked somewhat less curly. Not really feeling the overly "grown-up" vibe today, Stef made do with some eyeliner and a wee bit of mascara for her make-up... and of course, the concealer on her neck.
Pulling on some leggings, boots, and a gray long-sleeved sweater, Stef packed some things in her bag and walked back into the kitchen, digging through various drawers to try and find her gloves. She always kept them in the weirdest of places. One time she found them in the fridge, next to the butter.
Nicolas Black
Location: 5631 Spruce Ave.
Interacting With: Nikita
In any other situation, Nick would have made some kind of snarky comment to Nikita - either about the place she'd just been and what she'd been doing at said place; the slamming of the door; or the lack of shirt underneath her jacket. However, he could tell she was already in a bad mood - no doubt over the things he'd just seen on the news. Also, he too was shirtless. He could hardly complain.
"Good morning to you too." He made do with that, taking another gulp of tea before answering her question. "And yeah, I've watched it. Fuckin' arseholes - not that I expected anything less." He sighed, leaning back in his chair, stretching slightly. "He wasn't going to last long. If the humans didn't kill him, an Other would have taken him down just for blabbing." | Stefani Roche
Vampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Stefani “Stef” Roche
Previously Isabella di Diavolo
| Date of Birth |
Born 12th August 2003
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.
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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| 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!"
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."
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."
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."
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"
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."
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."
Apparently Nick’s been working on his case. I hope he finds out what happened soon. |
1,007 | 14 | 22 | 1,523 | 3,443 | Location:
Interacting With: Mona
Felix, in a tanktop and the shorts she wore to bed, was hunched over the kitchen table. Small, round reading glasses had been pushed up haphazardly into her hair to tangle there (it would be a pain getting them out) and ink stained her fingers as she hastily wrote with a fountain pen onto a spare piece of highly absorbent kitchen roll. Every so often she would look up, raise her empty mug of tea to her face and inspect the dregs at the bottom, the pattern that they had formed.
"I'm up," she called back through to Mona, her housemate and very welcome guest from the other realm.
Then, in the same breath. "This is total bullshit, I'm done with divination. It's just showing me the bad Omens, and I hate getting bad Omens. It's like– they're sooooo imprecise." And, she was on the rant now, pushing herself up from her chair carefully so as to not scrape the bottom against the floor. It could be heard from downstairs, apparently. She moved to wash her cup out, complaining all the while to whoever would listen, "It's like, they want to tell you that somebody you know's gonna die today, but they don't tell you who, do they? It can be your nan, it can be the old lady down the road, it can be yourself... Ugh."
Felix set about scrubbing away the asters formed into the shape of a wreath from the bottom of the cup with a dash of fairy liquid and an exaggerated huff. Really, it was vaguely unsettling: she'd been seeing the same image in all of her methods of foretelling the future, and she'd been seeing them ever since she dipped a toe into the afterlife, so to speak. A chill settled into her bones, but she shook her head, and turned on the small, square TV in the kitchen with a click of a remote.
Then immediately turned the volume up to hear the news in the background, because surprise surprise, it was mostly supernatural related again. "Well," was all she could say to the screen, and Mona, on the prospect of possible governmental intervention and the death of one werewolf named Bloodfang. "That's rude."
Location: 19 Avalon Point – Home.
Interacting With: Megumi
"English, yeah, remember?" Alistair reminded gently as he stumbled to translate what Megumi had said. Japanese wasn't his first language, and he was near constantly running on fumes these days, which left him to stagger through with only conversational phrases and no hope of reading or writing it. "No school indeed. It's gonna snow tonight, again, so we'll see if we have time to make a snowman. Or a snow-bunny..." He trailed off and let his head roll back to hit against the door frame he was leaning against. Where was he going with that again?
Oh, yes. He didn't really want to leave Megumi in the house alone while he went out to do 'work things' (whatever they might have been). He could think of at least twelve different ways that could end badly, beginning and ending with the name Mortals First. His hand dropped down to ruffle his sort-of stand-in daughter's inky black hair, creating a tangled mess.
"So! Two options," Alistair started, clapping his hands and moving away from the door as he turned theatrically to Megumi. "I can find someone to watch you for a few hours, or you can get ready and come with me while I do boring adult stuff." Faraday Heights – had to see about a broken window Preston called in about, especially with how dangerous London was getting these days. She roomed with Eve, didn't she? All the more reason to ensure the place was nice and secure. | Basic Information
| Name |
Alistair Ruaraidh Queen
| Date of Birth |
December, 1324
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Landlord – Alistair owns a great deal of property in Edgetoun, and has done for about a century. This passive income, as well as close to seven centuries worth of savings, allows him to spend more time socialising, schmoozing and collecting rare occult texts (the likes of which impoverished student witches can only dream of).
| In-Depth Appearance |
Alistair was changed in his mid-to-late twenties (the uncertainty natural for vampires of his era or older) and as a result has been frozen at such an age for close to seven centuries. While he lived a haggard life and doesn't appear too baby-faced, he does attempt to look older for reasons of respect. Generally he does so by wearing easy business suits, woolen jumpers with checkered shirts underneath; by letting his stubble grow out and furrowing his brows enough so that dark lines form between them; and, of course, the reading glasses that are only present during the day when he's not having fun.
He stands at about 5'9" – tall for his time period of malnutrition and famine and illness but only slightly above-average nowadays in Britain. A lean build betrays an upbringing where food wasn't plentiful, and might also explain the way he abstains from drinking blood for at least a week before chowing down on some poor ICU patient in a hospital. With blonde hair, brown eyes and a jawline to die for, Alistair can definitely be considered ruggedly handsome.
Pale skin doesn't look too unusual in London, and he's more than experienced in smirking in just the right way so as to hide his elongated fangs. Alistair hides the bite scar on his neck from when he was turned with a variety of turtle-necks and scarves, though he does have other ones from his time working for the Collective. Did you know he's been run through with a sword in the very distant past?
Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Aloof ♦ Dreamer ♦ Flirtatious ♦ Self-Deprecating ♦
Alistair has always been ambitious for as long as he can remember. When he was impoverished, illiterate and very likely to die young, he wanted more; when he was making a name for himself in the vampire community, he wanted more; when he was middle-class; when he was rich; when he was a socialite... Nothing ever satisfies him: he's chasing dreams of his youth and can be seen as quite greedy as a result. There is no doubt an aspect to his life goals that is largely hedonistic. When he's charitable (which is quite often, actually) it's more for his sake, to make himself feel good.
He's the first person to admit all of this – he tends not to have a positive view of himself and is actually quite self-aware.
"You miss 100% of every shot you don't take." This is certainly something Alistair lives by, hence his tendency to flirt shamelessly and without reservation and take risks in his private and professional lives. It's also what is prompting him to come out as a vampire to the public, joining the small number providing interviews and information. He is curious, and he does believe the best of humanity for now.
Despite being warm and friendly and on occasion humorous, Alistair hold his cards close to his chest. He likes to know more about other people than they know about him, and is not very forthcoming on answering personal questions without a good reason to do so. He much prefers to change the subject, or question the other person instead. He is a good listener, with a long memory when it counts: he'll remember someone's favourite movie and why he's holding a grudge against them at the same time.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Historical movies and documentaries (the more wrong, the better).
✔ Alcohol. Getting utterly pissed at least two nights a week.
✔ Kids.
✔ Drinking lots of blood – particularly from the terminally ill.
✔ The invention of electricity.
✔ The invention of Tinder.
✔ 1960s culture and film and especially music.
✔ Trashy erotica novels targeted at women and ancient manuscripts, equally.
✘ Dhampires – it's not fair that they die so fast.
✘ Wars. World Wars, supernatural wars, everything to do with conflict.
✘ English bank notes (the Scottish ones look nicer).
✘ Aristocracy, as old habits die hard.
✘ Illness, disease and death of loved ones.
✘ Journalists and the Media, especially with current events.
✘ Similarly, liars.
| History |
If asked, Alistair remembers very little about his human life – the only time when his memory has failed him yet – but in reality he is quite reluctant to talk about it. Born in the 1300s, he was neither rich or middle-class and could instead have been considered the very bottom of the barrel. His mother was a prostitute, suffering from ill-health for most of her life, and thus Alistair was raised communally, left to wander the streets as he liked. He was kicked out at age eight, a year before his mother died, and spent most of the rest of his life as a gutter rat, picking pockets and stealing to live (and for fun).
He would have died from the bubonic plague, something he avoided until the very end of the period it was most virulent in, if it hadn't been for a vampire looking to bolster his forces. His preference for sickly blood arose here, because as a fledgeling, he was allowed only to feed from the very worst people on the way up to the Highlands to fight a war with other vampires. Said war he glosses over, except the fact he ran from it (joining the opposite side, a young Northern Alliance) and was stabbed. Twice.
Alistair stuck around with the northern vampires for a good fifty years, becoming useful to the at-the-time leader and making a bit of a name for himself, but he decided that a life of petty politics and infighting and enforcing the rules of vampirekind wasn't for him, and moved down south to join the Collective... which was more of the same thing. Still, while in London, he learned how to read and write – skills he was long overdue in requiring – and although he left yet another large organisation after only a few decades, he found a home in the sprawling capital.
So, over the centuries he acquired wealth from working in a variety of professions, rarely for more than a few years. At one point he was a diplomat for the King which made it all the easier to hide his aging, especially when he was on the other side of the world. In the 19th century in particular he became something of a well-known figure, generous to supernatural creatures who had found themselves to one of the most powerful countries in the world and calmer than he had been in years previous. He worked as a teacher for a while in a non-public school, acquired land in Edgetoun (before it was a London borough) and spent most of the rest of his money.
20th and 21st century, other than siring a few dhampire children by accident, has been spent collecting old relics of the past – of his past – and magical textbooks. When the Other were revealled recently, he had to deal with his daughter (who shares the same surname as him) coming out as a dhampire and explaining what it means to be one on live television as well as rehouse a few of his tenants for privacy reasons.
| Family |
Louis Queen, 35 – Son, a dhampire who lives on the other side of London that Alistair sees infrequently. Seems to have distanced himself as much as is possible from the whole supernatural dealings, although strained phone calls have revealed that health issues related to his half-breed status are finally catching up to him.
Lorna Queen, 16 – Daughter, another dhampire who lives with her mother, a prominent journalist for the BBC. Alistair still has visitation rights, which he tries his best to make use of in his spare time. His daughter was interviewed as a part of the initial outbreak of moral panic at the reveal.
Otherwise, he has two ex-girlfriends, both amazingly still alive thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, and in the past has had quite a few more children, all of which died before their time due to the perils of being a dhampire.
| Strengths |
Well-read and knowledgeable of the history of the supernatural (especially vampires).
Tries his best to stay connected to the occult population of Edgetoun, and London as a whole.
A long history of enforcing the rules of the Collective on unruly and unforgivable vampires.
| Weaknesses |
Pacifistic – refuses to admit that sometimes there are situations that words can't get you out of.
Even though he collects them, he doesn't like to call in favours or accept any help whatsoever. Does everything solo.
Likes humanity, if in a bit of a condescending way, and can't conscience doing wrong by them.
Other
| Theme Song |
Winter Sound – Of Monsters and Men
”Stop, you're cold against the skin
Take me in your arms when walls are closing in
And I run, I run, I run, awakening my heart
But you overwhelm my lungs and it's tearing me a-part.”
| House Number |
19 Avalon Point – A large-ish house with a sizable back garden that he moved into eight years ago or so. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and one of the bedrooms he tends to rent out to a supernatural in need.
| Extra Information |
Speaks and understand several languages (French, Gàidhlig, German, Japanese) but can only read and write in English.
Blake Preston
"I own the house she rents. It feels a wee bit unethical to watch her YouTube videos."
Alistair didn't even know earning a living with homemade videos was even possible before he met his tenant, unless one was in a certain industry (Nikita, please). While Blake skipped on rent a few times, paid it late on others, he always let it slide easily and without further reproach – something a lot of landlords might not have done. Maybe it was because he had a soft-spot for go-getting entrepreneurs or maybe it was for a pretty face; who knows?
Daniel Belson
"Do you think if I recite the Lord's Prayer he'll sneeze? 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name...'"
You can take a boy out of the church but you can't quite shake the catechism from his blood. Alistair doesn't consider himself to be rather Christian, or really religious at all, really, but he hides behind the debt he owes to the church itself for keeping him alive and from the clutches of starvation so he could reach an age to die of the plague. Demons like Daniel make him feel uneasy, perhaps because they bring with them reminders that he was taught to avoid sin and vices – and, as a poor child with not a penny to his name, especially envy.
Mariska Costas
"Believe it or not, sometimes I like to live life like the upper class. Listening to jazz is part and parcel of that, isn't it?"
Generally, Alistair likes to know what everyone around him is, supernatural-wise. He can pick out a normal human from a distance, mostly based on how nice their blood is, but sometimes there's tricky ones like Mariska. He's certain she's not a vampire, but that's all he knows, other than that he heard her first when she was making her debut in lounges in the 1930s. One day, he tells himself, he'll chase her up to find out what she actually his. 'Curiosity killed the cat,' is a warning that stays forever in his mind.
Nikita Yankovsky
"So, Nikita is a policewoman now. At least if it doesn't work out she has a new uniform to use in her 'day job'. Authentic."
Alistair likes Nikita, in a completely unromantic way. Friend, friend with benefits – what's the difference? There never used to be one in the 19th century, or at least not in his social group. There is some hope that his own position as a supernatural pariah (when it inevitably comes out into the open like airing a dusty cupboard) doesn't affect hers. She seems to be doing quite well for herself, for a demon. It might seem shallow, but he considers that the only reason they wouldn't work out. Alistair is well-aware that he is apprehensive as fuck around demons.
Mordred Hame
"I might have liked his music when I was an angsty thirteen year old with nothing to live for. Now that I mention it..."
If asked, Alistair will say that it is greatest shame that he once listened to Mordred Hame's music. It's not bad, objectively, but it's not his "scene", his "jam" or whatever it is the kids are calling it these days. That they play it in those alternative clothing stores that he just so happened to be in to buy a cute backpack for Megumi was enough of a dose for him. Small quantities of this music only, please, as it should be. On a more serious note, he worries that it's going to give bad preconceptions to the supernatural community.
John Taylor
"What the fuck is he..?"
Okay, so nobody ever said that Alistair wasn't a drama queen, but the point still stands. John is one of his tenants (Faraday Heights, 28A if he remembers correctly) and... somewhat human? But not edible? But disgusting for no apparent reason? Alistair trusts his senses for the most part: they let him know if someone close to him has a terminal illness; they let him know when there's a meal to be had in the area and not the home-cooked kind, but they simply don't function as they should around John – not if he's a normal human. Which he can't be. He can't be.
Eve Lumière
"Now there's a lust demon if ever I saw one. Rooming with Blake Preston. Not going to think too hard on that one."
Eve's an ironic name for a demon, isn't it? That was the first thing he noticed when he met her, because obviously he had experience enough with Nikita to know one almost by sight. The bar she works in isn't the best – I should know, I own the building – but usually when I drop by I'm tipsy enough so as not to complain. I like her, but she's French. That's just begging the question, even if half-hearted: 'Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?"
Opallum
"He's not human, is he? It's a shame, but even some of our own fall through the cracks."
Alistair is naturally curious: is it an addiction problem? Is it a matter of pride? Is it incompatibility with the modern world moving on from whenever the guy – the Other – was born? He could help with any of that, just like he always slips a tenner into a cup when he sees a homeless person begging on the streets. Soft-hearted? No, not really, but he knew what it was like in a time before warm jackets and a good chance of a warm meal everyday. He can sympathise.
Andrew Mordekai
"I swear to God – or whatever ones he worships – if that activist group turns sour. I'm done with London."
Alistair has seen enough peaceful protests in his life go sour that he has a natural distrust for activist groups. While hearing that one wants to represent him is heart-warming really, from what he's seen of the witch (always from afar) and heard of from a friend in the magical circles, someone who's an elemental mage with a talent for fire of all things shouldn't be the leader. Volatile, very volatile. He'll be watching that movement, and a small part of him is expecting arson from it.
Suriel White
"Dr. White, we have a problem! There's a patient going into cardiac arrest in Ward 3. Cause of death: exsanguination by my hand."
Alistair is deeply, deeply sorry for his loss of control. The event happened almost two years ago, an inability to control his bloodlust after a long period of abstinence, and it was a coma patient who suffered – their family losing out on having their last moments with them. He remembers very little for that night, having slipped behind a curtain with a bunch of flowers to pretend he was in the area to visit another patient shortly after his accident to watch the affair, and Dr. White was one of them. Not human. He hopes the good doctor didn't see him then.
Miles Catrose
"I cut my own hair because I'm thrifty – is this guy a good alternative? Anybody know?"
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Yukiko Abe
"I know she's not as young as she looks, but how old? It gets hard to tell after a certain point, usually when you stop counting birthdays.."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Mona
"Dead. Young, too, by the looks of it. Just a kid."
Alistair believes in ghosts. He sees her wandering around every so often, and he rents out the flat to Felix Underwood, so he knows of this Mona's prolonged existence. A part of him is morbidly curious around ghosts. When you've lived as long as he has, questions of the after-afterlife begin to pop up, because technically (by church standards) Alistair is already dead. Will he end up like her after somebody shanks him? Probably not – his life is fulfilling enough and he's certain he won't leave anything behind as a vampire anyway. He wonders what Mona's unresolved issue is.
Faron Romane
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Nicolas Black
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Megumi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Katharine Haynes
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Elise Callaghan
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Claire O'Malley
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Ethan Cooper
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Alfie Liau
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Michael Harel
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Emerson Maddox
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Talia Halbrook
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Loki Van Stenberg
"I'm just waiting for the day the police show up at my door asking me where he is, and I have to lie and say I'm not hiding him."
Alistair is a pacifist: he prefers words to actions, diplomacy to force, socialism, freedom of speech but not the freedom to harm others... But he hasn't always been like that. Loki's a "tad" older than him, most likely smarter than him, and for the longest time, Alistair was a little starstruck – especially shortly after their first meeting many centuries ago. Ambition ran in his blood back then, and he always did learn by rote, or mimicry. For a time, Alistair copied Loki, became just as violent as him; twice as bloody.
He grew out of that when he learned to read, properly, and broke free enough to start making a name for himself in different fields. Alistair is a firm believer that despite his disinterest in bloodshed and violence, and his hope that the worlds of the supernatural and humanity will one day merge, he is not incompatible with his once best friend, with whom he had the foolish, almost childish belief of taking on the world. After all, Alistair is nothing if not dedicated, and no matter how much he dislikes killing, he would for Loki. That's what best mates are for.
That, and banter.
Aiden Phillips
"I turned him. I always did have a thing for blondes."
Write what they actually think about this character here. |
1,008 | 14 | 23 | 721 | 234 | Opallum
Location: Walking around Edgetoun.
Interacting With: No one.
Opallum roamed about the city district of Edgetoun with his hands in the pockets of his light brown cargo pants. Dipping his head a tad, he focused on the stone of the sidewalk floor only a foot away from his transitioning footwork with a vacant gaze.
The first day of January was quickly shaping up to be regrettably uneventful, save the approaching snowstorm conjured by the disconsolate Unseelie Fae. Desperate for any variant of amusement, Opallum had pondered on once again taking part in some of the physiologically mangling drugs that plenty of his homeless kin had delved into time and time again and, briefly, even considered joining them in the dilapidated Edgetoun buildings that they had dubbed their "bases".
Swiftly did history kick him in the back of the head when it arrived.
In the past, he had most definitely indulged in the intake of marijuana and the injection of minuscule amounts of heroine, but, each time he attempted to procure a high from either of these substances, the only outcome was a steep increase in his internal body temperature and a crippling headache. When observing his human "friends" interact with the drugs, they seemed to actually undergo a psychological muddling whenever exposed. Regardless, Opallum came to the very reasonable decision to cease taking any sort of opioid, narcotic, or hallucinogen of any type. Money was already hard enough to scrape together with his socioeconomically impoverished state, but what was the point in spending that dosh on something that only made him suffer? He was no masochist.
Instead, he found no harm in putting his fire evocation to use. Typically, the evoked flame was enough to light a blunt or heat up whatever black tar heroin the London druggies managed to get their hands on. He occasionally found the company of drug addicts to actually be delightful.
Whenever asked how he produced a flame from his thumb or index finger, he always just waved a dismissive hand in their direction and deemed it a "cheap parlor trick". Honestly, not many even questioned how the "parlor trick" worked, because as long as they could get their due, they didn't pry too much.
After assisting them in achieving their high by utilizing his fire, and when they weren't completely out of it, some of them disclosed their life story and how they landed up where they are now. Occasionally, the ifrit didn't even have to ask for a narrative. Some just needed an outlet to vent their qualms or pains. Quite interesting, these stories. War veterans, depressed teenagers, mothers and fathers -- a diverse crowd, with each individual owning their own fascinating tale of defeat or enlightenment. Of course, there was always a risk when he spent an extended amount of time with any of them. There was always the looming threat of the police, but he could always flee. Flight was certainly a helpful ability to have when scenarios like those began to unfold.
"Uhm . . . Hm." he mumbled gruffly.
It would seem that Opallum had found himself facing the burgundy brick wall of an alleyway's end. Honestly, this wasn't an uncommon occurrence, for the ifrit's boredom-spurred promenades tended to end either with him standing in the middle of a parking lot, facing an abandoned house, or -- on rare occasions -- accidentally walking directly into a wall. Opallum shifted about to face the exit and then emitted a lengthy sigh, promptly going to run a hand through his long, black curls.
He strode out and continued traversing indiscriminately through the borough of Edgetoun once more. | "Frankie Knuckles was something else, I'm telling you."
Opallum
Demon - 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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.
| 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."
| 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.
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?"
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."
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."
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.
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."
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
I do like people, but he's probably the last person I want to hang around.
Yukiko Abe
"Not sure who that is."
Should meet her at some point.
Mona
"Huh?"
No goddamn clue who that is.
Faron Romane
"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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
No one I know all too well.
Elise Callaghan
"Sorry, not a clue."
Nothing up in my head about her . . .
Claire O'Malley
"Uhm . . . Eh."
Yeah, no. I don't know this girl.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Some posh-looking fellow. All I know."
There's that "-iel" again. Fishy, fishy . . .
Ethan Cooper
"Not a clue."
Seriously, I don't know this person . . .
Alfie Liau
"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. |
1,009 | 14 | 24 | 0 | 94 | Katie Haynes
Location: Faraday Heights 27B
Interacting With: Andy , Claire
Katie groaned and rolled over to look at her alarm clock when Andy knocked on the door. She still had ten minutes before her alarm would go off, so she rolled over to get a few more minutes of sleep. It felt like she had barely closed her eyes when the alarm went off, the annoying tone never failed to wake her up. She groaned again as she turned off the alarm and then rolled out of bed, landing on the floor with a soft thud before rolling over to her dresser to pick out her clothes for the day. Once she reached it, she was forced to stand up to reach the higher drawers, so she did so sluggishly. She was definitely not a morning person.
She managed to find a decent outfit in a reasonable amount of time, and after she got dressed, she headed out into the kitchen. "Good Morning!" She mumbled cheerfully to her flatmates as she passed them. The warm smell of coffee beckoned to her, so she didn't stop to see what was on the news. She filled up two-thirds of the cup with coffee before pouring in quite a bit of sugar and milk. She was convinced that the best way to drink coffee was with as little actual coffee as she could get away with, but she needed the caffeine.
It seemed that Claire was making eggs, and Katie could only assume that Andy had made the coffee. Realizing that she was the only one who wasn't helping the others get ready, she resolved to get up earlier. "Who wants toast?" She asked, hoping to be able to make up for being the last one up. It wasn't much, but at least it was something she could do. She reminded herself that she also needed to learn to cook. She could whip up a mean cup of coffee, but ask her to fry some bacon or flip a pancake and you'd likely be dealing with a stove fire. At least she knew how to use the toaster and the microwave, and occasionally even the oven.
She grabbed some jam out of the fridge and set it on the counter, then turned to one of the cupboards and pulled out butter and honey. She set them all neatly in the corner of the counter by the toaster before grabbing the bread. Now at least she'd be contributing to breakfast, a little at least. | Katherine Haynes
Human
Basic Information
| Name |
Katherine “Katie” Annalise Haynes
| Date of Birth |
November 13, 1998
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Part-time barista at a small coffee shop, The Early Bean. Full-time college student.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Katie is only slightly taller than average, but the way she carries herself makes her seem taller and her presence demands attention. She faces life with her head held high and her shoulders back, seemingly ready for whatever life throws at her. Her voice adds to this effect; it is calm but firm, sweet but knowing.
Her face has a certain maturity to it that is often absent in others her age. She has striking light green eyes which can seem a bit gray or even occasionally blue, depending on the colors she’s wearing. Katie has thick, wavy, brown hair with natural reddish highlights. Her pale skin is covered with light freckles, which give her a sort of ageless look, as if she could be older or younger than what her real age is.
The part of her appearance that she is most proud of, however, is the one part she had the most choice in. Katie has a full-back tattoo of large wings. While this tattoo is generally covered up, it gives her a sense of confidence in some strange way.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Open-minded ♦ Loyal ♦ Kind ♦ Confident ♦
Katie is the kind of person who likes to speak her mind. She likes to think carefully about what she’s saying and makes an effort to truly listen to others instead of just trying to think of a retort when discussing clashing opinions with others. She does not hide her opinions from anyone, even if she knows that a person who is close to her will likely disagree. However, she will do her best to explain her point in the most inoffensive way possible. It is her opinion that hiding one’s true feelings is unhealthy for both the person doing it and the people they’re hiding from.
She doesn’t have a lot of friends, she prefers to grow close to only a few individuals, but she has acquired quite a few friendly acquaintances. Katie loves to meet new people and is friendly and polite to anyone she meets, as long as they aren’t straight-out assholes. She believes that respect is earned, and anyone who treats other people as less than themselves does not deserve the time of day. Her reaction towards such people is worsened if they treat her friends badly.
Even though she is generally confident in her choices and opinions, she does her best to keep from becoming arrogant. She truly has a desire to learn and will accept that she is wrong when she really is. She loves to debate, but her goal is not to win these debates, but rather to determine what the truth is. She is a straight-A student who pushes herself to go above and beyond the expectations set before her.
The recent discovery of the Others worries Katie, naturally. She has no idea what the extent of their abilities is, but it also excites her. The knowledge that there is so much more out there than she previously thought makes her wonder about the endless possibilities. While she is war of the idea of strange creatures whose abilities are shrouded in myth and legend, she also hopes that humans and Others can learn to co-exist. She realizes that not all of what is said of them can be true, and that they’ve managed to live hidden among humans for centuries, so at least some of them must be somewhat peaceful.
Although most of the time, she is a well put-together individual, Katie is recovering from general anxiety disorder and other issues caused by past trauma. It is not entirely uncommon for her to relapse into this state, causing her to become temporarily terrified of social settings and confrontation. Aside from this, she is also prone to depression and will sometimes go into full hermit-mode; shutting herself in her bedroom for days on end, emerging only to eat. She eventually makes it past these moments, but she will be much more reserved and cautious after such an incident. Sometimes these events are triggered by specific stimuli, but most of the time the reason for her relapses remain unknown.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Rainy Days
✔ Friendly people
✔ Snow
✔ Reading
✔ Drawing
✔ Wild adventures
✔ Debates
✔ Kittens
✔ Calm music
✔ Swimming
✔ Painting
✔ Singing
✘ Assholes
✘ Snakes
✘ Spiders
✘ Bugs
✘ Anxiety
✘ Mouth germs
✘ The color yellow
| History |
Katie was a fairly normal child in her younger years. She had loving parents, and one older sister with whom she was very close. When she was six, her family moved to the United States. While her family took a while to adjust, Katie immediately loved it. She went to school for the first time and made lots of new friends, it was exciting and a new adventure to her. Even as a young child, she loved doing new things and going to new places. However, a few years later, disaster struck.
When she was twelve, Katie and her family were on their way to a play at her school when they were hit by a drunk driver. It drove straight into the driver’s side of the car, instantly killing her father and fatally injuring her sister. Katie and her mother survived with several broken bones between the two of them, her sister died about 3 hours after the crash from severe blood loss.
As soon as they were able to travel, Katie’s mother moved them back to London for the support of their family. The move back was difficult for the young girl. She had spent half of her life in America and didn’t remember the majority of her relatives. She was also depressed because of the death of her father and sister, which made her want to be alone, but she was constantly forced into conversations with concerned aunts, uncles, cousins, and so forth. This made it insanely difficult for her to adjust. She became increasingly antisocial as she was forced to interact with more and more people she didn’t know.
As if things weren’t bad enough, her mother decided to get remarried just a little over a year after the accident. Katie and her stepfather didn’t get along at all, and it wasn’t her fault either. She tried to accept him, even though she still wasn’t over the death of her father, but he was abrasive and arrogant. He constantly criticized her, and made homophobic remarks the first time she brought a girlfriend home with her. He was an all-around asshole, and Katie’s mother just wouldn’t listen to her when she complained. Her mother was blind to his faults, she only saw what she wanted to see and believed what she wanted to believe about him. This further hindered Katie’s grieving process.
She developed all new problems as a result of her stepfather’s emotionally abusive behavior. Eventually it got out of hand enough that her mother took notice and got her into therapy. The therapy helped quite a bit, but the biggest improvement was when she moved out at the age of eighteen and went to live with one of her aunts. She soon moved to Faraday Heights for a shorter commute to college. Since then, she has mostly become the person she wants to be, although she has relapses more often than she would like to admit.
| Family |
William Haynes, Father (deceased)
Lillian Gathesford, Mother
Thomas Gathesford, Stepfather
Sarah Haynes, Sister (deceased)
| Strengths |
Confident
Persuasive
Amiable
| Weaknesses |
Random bouts of anxiety
Secret insecurities
Often suffers from mild carpal tunnel syndrome
Not very physically strong
Becomes very stubborn and blunt when depressed or anxious
Prone to bouts of depression
The Other
| Theme Song |
Drop - Ludovico Einaudi
| House Number |
Faraday Heights 27B |
1,010 | 14 | 25 | 1,390 | 1,432 | Location: 25B Faraday Heights
Interacting With: Felix
”Bloodfang? What a silly name.” Moan drifted over to the TV, staring at it with her usual dubious sleepy expression. "I guess ya prediction came true, poor sir." The news droned on about his mysterious death, the woman's voice sounding like lead in Mona's ears, and she soon fell back in step to float besides Felix. Her eyes drifted down into the tea cup before it was snatched away for washing. Leaves, soaked to smudges, sat in in a light pool of chilled tea and made no sense to her ghostly eyes. She would never be able to understand how Felix saw death in that mess, but perhaps that was for the better. There were somethings Mona shouldn't know, after all. She sat back on her heels, lips pursing as she suddenly imagined what those smudges would have looked like if they were speaking of her own death.
Mona wondered if anyone out that had predicted her demise.
A chilly, uncharacteristically glum sigh escaped her, and she settled down on the chair Felix had vacated. "We've been the interest of the press for a bit now, huh? 'S kind of annoying." Her gaze drifted back to the television, face slumping down against her balled fist as headlines filled her mind. Most were stupid skeptics, wondering who among them could be a vampire or werewolf or devil, some involved traffic accidents on the way into town and missing children and more theories about the storm brewing outside. News, news, news. Mona sighed again and turned her gaze to the musty window beyond, watching the gray light stream down to dapple their floor with dust and spirit lights.
Outside, a gust of wind pressed against Faraday Heights, creaking the old building and kicking up a few branches below. Mona tilted her head at the noises and then grinned, turning to stare at Felix with her usual dreamy look. "It's gonna snow today, got any plans? We can..." She shifted to and fro as if embarrassed, though her face remained delightfully unimpressive. Excitement made her fidget, nothing more. She was just excited to ask Felix little things. "Maybe we can hang out, go for a walk? It could be fun!" | rudy will be placed here too when finished
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| 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. |
1,011 | 14 | 26 | 2,699 | 1,255 | Aila Atleo
Location: Faraday Heights 26B
Interacting with: Mentioned Ethan , Danny
“The wolves are coming, I’m sorry.”
She was on a beach. She was stranded, there was no one there but her and she was being swallowed by the sea and her loneliness. She felt a breeze on her thigh, she rolled over.
She was atop a building, it was Faraday Heights. Her mother was there. She gently caressed her face, smiled at her, and informed her that dinner was almost ready. A tear rolled down her mother’s cheek. She jumped.
She was in her room, looking at herself. She was sleeping, a wolf watching in the corner of her room. It jumped.
She was looking at her wall. The snowy brightness shone in past her blinds into her eyes. Her blanket only covered the top half of her body. This was the worst nightmare of all.
Aila slowly rolled out of bed wiping tears from her cheeks with the sleeves of the oversized sweater that functioned as an entire outfit of pajamas. She let her feet drag against the cold floor as she shimmied towards her door. She walked into the living room – there were a few beer bottles it crossed her mind that Ethan and Danny might have been drinking last night but the thought exited her consciousness as quickly as it entered.
She went to the bathroom. She gently turned the tap on, splashing some water against her face. She took off her sweater and stared at herself for a moment in the window. With a sigh, she turned off the tap and turned to turn the handle of the shower. She waited for the water to heat up.
She entered the shower.
She stood immobilized by many things, the temperature of the bathroom outside of the water, fear, anxiety. She gently scrubbed her stomach and thighs. Her hand gently grazed the scar on the outside of her right thigh.
“Do you remember April 15th 2005?” She stopped and focused on calming her breath which she hadn’t realized until now had quickened into short bursts forcing air in and out of her lungs. She immediately stopped the water.
Aila sat down on the floor of the bathroom, on a towel. She hugged her knees close to her chest and wept silently.
Dressed and ready to leave for work in about an hour – Aila put a pot of coffee on for the apartment and pulled a granola bar out of cupboard munching on it slowly. She ate for survival – not for pleasure.
She took the pot off of the maker when it deemed it was time and took three mugs off of the rack they hung upon over the stove. She had them custom made not too long ago for herself, Ethan and Danny.
She slowly poured the coffee out of the pot into their respective mugs and sat down silently on the couch. Not taking up too much room – yet even the amount she occupied, she felt, was too much. She had one eye on the progressing winter storm and another on her cup of joe as she drank it slowly, waiting for time to march onwards.
Yukiko Abe
Location: Cozy ass Apartment (30B)
Interacting with: Stef , Mags
Yukiko watched Stefani retreat to her room and let out a small sigh.
’She definitely noticed.’ She said to herself quietly.
Yuki walked over to the fridge, went onto the tips of her toes and barely managed to reach on top snatching the mittens that lay waiting – somehow finding a home in a place Stef could no doubt not reach. Yuki gently laughed to herself and sat back down on the couch.
There were real circumstances to living life now. She would have to start practicing combat again. The ‘popular’ others the one’s that had a life in Britain before something like a Kitsune had. Werewolves, Ghosts… Vampires. She wouldn’t let any harm come to Stef and the first step to solving that problem was making sure she knew who Yuki was and what she could do. Honesty, Yuki had found out, was the best answer to times like these. When people like her and Stef were hunted door to door, finding each person with a life just unstable enough to knock over and following through with that plan.
Yuki even felt uncomfortable leaving Stef alone for the amount of time that she was going to have to get what she needed from the library. But it would be necessary.
“Stef, I’ve got your mits!” Yuki called teasingly towards Stef’s door.
She grabbed her own scarf and wrapped it around her neck gently. At least humans didn’t bode well in the cold – this storm could keep Stef safe even if Yuki couldn’t. | Eve Lumière.
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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
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 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."
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’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."
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."
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. "
#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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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. "
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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."
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."
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."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"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."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"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."
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."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"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."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"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."
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."
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."
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. |
1,012 | 14 | 27 | 896 | 389 | John Taylor
Location: Kitchen, 28A
Interacting With: Mariska
John gave a muffled "Hmph" as he placed the sausage links in a hot pan, the sizzle coming not long after. "Yeah, but I've never worried about a metal band killing anybody. Whole worlds gone tits up 'cause some wolf couldn't keep his teeth in his mouth." John said, an edge to his voice. He never had much sympathy with those who purposefully ate people, three guesses as to why. Adding the water, a dash of cinnamon, and a couple drops of vanilla and viola! The best with what he had to work with, coming right up. A little butter for the pan and they were golden as a bit of batter was poured out. As beauty was being made, John began to work on his second baby and started a pot of coffee.
Running a hand up his face to rub his eyes, John just let out along sigh. "Not much we can do about it...how was your show last night?" | John Taylor
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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.
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. |
1,013 | 14 | 28 | 905 | 2,479 | Mordred
Location:Faraday Heights; 28A
Interacting With:
"Somebody is going to die!" Mordred came into the flat from the front door, for the first time since about dusk last the night before. He was dressed in a fashionable topcoat, with a scarf and some good ol' head stomping boots. He shed the outer layers, hanging them on a coat rack by the door, to reveal distressed jeans and a cable knit sweater underneath.
He entered the kitchen a lot more calmly than his entrance statement warranted, and reached for the automatic coffee machine that had produced a fresh pot about ten minutes before hand. As he poured himself a mug, he elaborated.
"Car accidents, pneumonia, a stupid slip-and-fucking-fall." He drained his cup in a series of hearty gulps, and when he continued speaking there was a heavy cloud steam issuing from his mouth. "And 'The Others'," He sketched air quotes with his index fingers, "Will be blamed, the victims made into martyrs for the cause. May the Lord God Almighty put me back in hell if I have not seen this shit before." | Mordred
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| House Number |
Not yet decided |
1,014 | 14 | 29 | 767 | 121 | Maggie Spencer-Adeyemi
Location: 30B Faraday Heights
Interacting With: Yukiko
From where she stood, leaning back against the kitchen counter, mug of coffee in her hand, Maggie watched, silently, as Stefanie retreated to her room, her departure noted upon by Yuki with a despondent sigh. Maggies detached observation followed Yuki for a few minutes, watching as the woman reached up towards the top of their fridge to collect a pair of mittens that for whatever reason had been shoved atop the appliance. As Yuki declared her possession of Stefanis mittens to the closed door of the girls room, dangling the offending outerwear demonstratively, Maggie felt a small smile curve onto the corners of her lips.
All of a sudden she was thinking back to when she had first approached Faraday Heights, those few months ago, drawn in by the energy of 'different' and yet 'the same' that ran throughout the entire place like a river, guided by a small advertisement in the window of the corner-shop down the way. Yuki, from the start, had been somehow instantly young and instantly old, somehow wise beyond her years and silently understanding of Maggie, and Maggies identity, from the first moment they had shook hands and one of Yukis eyebrows rose in an elegant arch. It had felt unfair to Maggie at first, that somehow this woman knew what she was, what she had been born into, and had looked upon it with a benign indifference, but conceded no identity of her own. After a while however, Maggie had simply gotten used to the great secret that was Yukiko Abe, and was content to accept her flatmate for how she appeared, amiable and willing to share her flat and wine.
Stefani, had been something different from the beginning. In contrast to Yuki, who maintained an odd but seamless balance between youth and maturity, Stefani had always been painfully young. Maggie, who had never had much luck with teenagers even when she herself had been one, hadn't known what to think of her at first, mind too heavy and guilty with the instinctive dichotomy of her Mothers lessons of wards and spells to stave off Vampires. But the cloud had cleared, eventually. Stefani, as temper-driven as she could be sometimes, was truly a bright and clever child, who made a point of staying out of Maggies space. And Maggie could see it, somewhat, whatever Yuki saw in the child, that side of her that Stefani only showed to the woman, in the relaxed arch of her spine and the lightness to her step. Maggie would wonder sometimes, distantly, if one day Stefani might trust her like that, and always concluded that, she wouldn't blame her if the girl never did. There was hurt in those eyes, and pain, and fear and anger, trust was never offered freely from anyone who had eyes like that. And Maggie rarely went searching for something like that anyway.
As Yuki wound a thick scarf around her neck, Maggie padded out of the kitchen, mug still clutched in her hands, approaching Yuki carefully. As she passed the woman, Maggie uttered a simple request, "If you happen to see any while you're out, could you get some almond milk please?" Lifting her eyes to Yukis face, she added "I'll pay you back" and with a small nod, quietly excused herself from the room, not waiting for Yukis response. Taking another sip of coffee, Maggie walked down the hallway towards her bedroom, wincing slightly as she passed Stefanis room, as the sudden muffled blare of loud music erupted from behind the door. Making it to the quieter, dimmer sanctuary of her bedroom, Maggie closed the door behind her firmly, before moving over towards her desk. Her computer, still on standby from last night, lit up as she touched the on button, fans booting on at a low hum as she typed in her password with one dainty hand.
Maggie settled down into her desk chair slowly, as if hesitant, as she looked at the computer screen, and the browser tabs she had left open from her last visit.
Bringing her legs up to cross in her lap, Maggie rested her chin in her hands, directing a accusatory stare at the screen. Finally, after a few short seconds, she released a thin huff of a sigh from her lips, before leaning forward in her seat, a hand coming down to the desk to take control of the wireless mouse. The cursor swept across the screen, coming to rest on the sub>>sub menu option that had so captured her interest last night Recently amended research articles. With a short click Maggie brought up the link, and continued her journey through the numerous offerings of the Circle of Sorcery website. | Margaret 'Maggie' Spencer-Adeyemi
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.
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.
| 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.
| 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)
| 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. |
1,015 | 14 | 30 | 792 | 4,390 | Mariska Costas
Location: Faraday Heights; 28A
Interacting With: Mordred Hame (), John Taylor ()
The sound of sizzling meat was downright musical first thing in the morning, and the smell wasn't far behind either. It made Mariska grin as she took another sip of water, though the grin was obscured by the rim of her mug. It wouldn't do to smile wide so early, and without having even properly applied makeup. Fortunately, John and Mordred - wherever the latter was - were trustworthy enough to know the Mariska that didn't appear under the spotlight. "Well I imagine a wolf has trouble focusing or whatever when it comes time to do what comes naturally. Not saying it's easy, mind, but if Others can keep their lust, blood or otherwise, in check then this dead one ought to as well, yeah?" Mariska shrugged her shoulders at that; she was more concerned about the Unseelie and their protest than a dead wolf. One of those things could impact her. "Guess the love affair with the hairy kinds are over now that they're not glitter and glamour and beastly where it counts."
Upon being asked about her gig, Mariska nearly spilled water from her shocked gasp of a chuckle. Oh, how she could go on and on about it, but she knew enough courtesy not to simple drone about what was still a successful show...in the sense that she still wound up paid despite the very subtle and very classless heckling. "It went as well as you'd expect a show for a bunch of old sorts on the outs to go. I think they were just glad for the distraction, but I do miss a good night club. There at least I might have someone buying me a drink afterwards instead of asking me to move aside so they could watch the late news or whatever. But how was...uh...the shop? Any ridiculous requests that they'll regret?"
Mariska looked over towards John with expectant eyes just as the front door opened and the third member of the flat entered in appropriately timely and dramatic fashion. "Mornin', Mord. We was just talking about that. Thing is, though, some Others are to blame for this, right? Some Unseelie Fae protest in all their wisdom. But, mate, you might wanna slow...nevermind." Mariska was momentarily concerned about the speed in which Mordred drank his coffee, but shrugged it off after the fact. Some people were just excellent coffee drinkers. "Anyway, Mord, you doing alright? Bit late to be getting home. Or, I guess early depending. Late night?" Her water was almost gone again, but now her fingers were simply cradled around the mug for comfort. | Jorōgumo || The Binding Bride
Basic Information
| Name |
Naomi Ishiguro
| Date of Birth |
The exact date is long lost to time, but Naomi celebrates a birthday on January 1. She is at least four hundred years old, birthdays stop mattering after a time.
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Asexual
Hers is sex not for desire nor for need, but a different sort of pleasure.
| Occupation |
Have you ever watched the telly and heard a pleasant voice on an advert or announcing an ad break? Perhaps you've heard a voice on the radio that isn't just the disc jockey or the useless weather report, but a voice selling a product you suddenly find yourself wholly interested in. Naomi is one of those voices. Her vocal talents have taken her places, from fast food commercial narration to audiobooks, and now, at present, to a late night call in program on the radio. A Voice Actress and Radio Personality.
Of course, everyone has their fronts. Naomi's true occupation, such as it is, is far less reputable.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Of the many phrases and sayings in the world, one of them happens to be 'you have a face for radio' which is an indirect way of calling someone not attractive enough to be on television. Or, rather, simple an offhanded remark to call someone ugly. Naomi has never heard that saying, and often gets asked why she chooses to stay behind the camera, isolated in sound booths and in radio studios. Naomi looks quite great for age, that age being somewhere in the realm of five hundred twenty, give or take. She's aged like the finest of wines, with a blemish free face that, despite being the visage of a woman in her late thirties, still seems as youthful as if she were in her early thirties.
Naomi is an older woman that doesn't let a little number like age hold her back. She's tall, coming in at 5'10", with a rather svelte figure, though with the right amount of eye catching curvature to the hips. There's a hunger to be found in her deep blue, almost violet, eyes that only increases when the cosmetics draw attention to them; what the hunger is is often misinterpreted as something carnal...which is exactly by design.
Naomi's hair never seems to grow beyond its current length, though its style ranges from a full volume affair to a messier, more sensual style; regardless of the style it always serves to enhance her present look. Said looks depend on what she manages to pull out of the closet on any particular day. Naomi doesn't like to toot her own horn or anything, but she pays little attention to fashion trends or styles and simply wears what looks good - and considering Naomi is someone that looks good in damn near anything, her options are quite endless. When she isn't wearing heels, she's barefoot - which is to say she's barefoot about seventy percent of the time, often removing her heels while working or travelling long distances on public or private transport.
Naomi flaunts what she has, but not in an overly obvious way. The flip of the hair, the sideways look, the well timed smile, subtle tricks to ensnare and capture the attentions of the younger adventurous types...or the older and bored ones. And this is to say nothing of her voice, which doesn't have any hypnotic bend to it, but it just sounds like velvet in the ears...albeit velvet coated with a rather posh accent...that sometimes sounds absolutely put on.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Venomous ♦ Predatory ♦ Immoral ♦ Lascivious ♦
Some people that have seen Naomi looking towards them have had similar thoughts of 'this must be too good to be true' and if only they knew how right they were. Though when she's out and about (or offering advice and facilitating discussion to the lonely young people that call in) it's true that her appearance and attitude showcase a flirtatious, teasing demeanor...but most, if not all, of that is a perfected act. Naomi doesn't care about others, though humans especially so, and them being so easily manipulated by such simple things as a wink only reinforces her belief that those that fall into her web deserve what's coming to them.
For Naomi, her little...let's call them 'indiscretions' are just a fun little game, one where she sets the rules and conditions so that she always manages to win. She isn't all bad, despite what her hobby and true occupation might have one believe, she's actual quite insightful and genuinely seems to take an interest in helping those that call her for advice. Most of the topics tend to be about love or sex, but even still she speaks not as some stuffy expert explaining things for idiots, but rather as one friend offering sage-like advice to another. Naomi even waves to the neighbors, gives all her change from transactions to the cashiers, and has talked up charity organizations on air.
But of course, don't let that fool you.
It's a shame, then, that she's too far gone down her own long twisted beliefs to become a good person, because she comes so close when she's working. Of course, that could all just be part of her intricate little game as well, after all...no one ever suspects the nice ones.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Online dating; she maintains several profiles on various websites...though not for hookups.
✔ Horror movies. Are there any better comedies out there than those?
✔ Adult entertainment; it utterly fascinates her the depths people will go to find odd pleasures
✔ Gambling; Not really an addiction or anything, but she enjoys the thrill of a game of chance
✔ Red wine, aged, of course
✔ Commercial breaks; she is just vain enough to love it when she hears her ads in person
✔ String instruments
✘ People. Just in general. People.
✘ Fire, be it from the fireplace or a match or a candle
✘ Wasps, especially the big ugly ones
✘ Lizards...they're incredibly gross
✘ She could go without birds, now that you mention it
✘ Mirrors
✘ Music produced on machines
| History |
There's a folk tale in Japan that tells of spiders gaining 'magical powers' and what a terrifying thought that would be. But of course, such tales could very well have a basis in fact...and Naomi is living proof of that. For the first four centuries of her life, Naomi had no name or identity, she was born and she had to do what it took to survive: trapping smaller insects in webs, being clever to avoid larger predators, watch and do nothing as others in her family were eventually picked off for being stupid. Time had little meaning for Naomi because she had no concept of it. To her, a year might as well have been a night. The only indication that things were changing was the expansion of beings that walked on two legs and swatted away the insects of the world without so much as a thought. A curious Naomi once tried to trap a human in the same manner she trapped all her food, but her web only served to annoy the humans.
Yet Naomi continued to live on. And she continued to grow.
She didn't quite know when it happened, again what did she know of time, but one morning she found that she felt...different, and that she had grown larger still. It was when a human came across her path and stopped to speak to her that she knew something was wrong. Naomi, then taking the appearance of a pale, black haired, young woman, had woken up as looking no different than a human, albeit one who was without clothing. She looked like a human...but she did not forget what she was, and neither did her body. That unfortunate human who was overcome with a carnal desire upon sight was dragged off to a cave and Naomi feasted for days.
Naomi became a Jorōgumo, a spider that, after living for four centuries, became able to transform herself into a seductive woman in order to trap men and devour them. In her body was not blood but venom and her hair doubled as webbing strong enough to bind a human...she no longer had to fear them. Naomi then lived as a predator, living near enough to human settlements to gather attention just to lead the hapless victim to her dwellings where she took her time savoring what came next. Though her human appearance was nigh indistinguishable from the real thing, she came to learn that any reflection, be it from glass or water or any reflecting surface, would show her true self: her arachnid form. Over the years she became able to stay a human woman for longer periods of time, though she cannot maintain the form forever. Even in her present state she can go maybe ten hours straight and that's if she's feasted recently. She is, after all, human in appearance only.
Naomi spent her years as Jorōgumo being a predator. She's long lost count of the men and women she's captured, poisoned, and gotten rid of over the years. Of course when a disturbing number of people go missing mysteriously...questions start getting asked and panic starts setting in. But of course, Naomi never left a body behind. Bones? Sure. But never a body. With a monumental chip on her shoulder and the transformation ability on lock, Naomi has only adapted her tactics with time. Now she is more than willing to let prey walk into her traps than to lure them herself. She enjoyed a great run of being an absolute monster but now that Others have been revealed to the world...matters have certainly become complicated.
People already hate spiders. What would they think of a spider like Naomi?
| Family |
Naomi considers the spiders that live in her home to be her family. For...for obvious reasons.
| Strengths |
Resourceful. She'd have to be to keep up her activities this long
Meticulous
Crafty
| Weaknesses |
Insatiable bloodlust
Irrational hatred for most things
Easily panicked
The Other
| Theme Song |
Sober – Elli Ingram
”And when the lights get low
And I let it take control
And I’m feeling so alone
One more sip and then it’s gone
And then I lose my soul
To the poison then I’m on one
But I can’t let it go to waste
And I love the way it taste”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 4A
| Extra Information |
She claims to be able to talk to spiders...and she probably can. Why else would she let them hang out on her walls.
Solitary Fae || Yōsei
Basic Information
| Name |
'K', spelled as 'Kei' on official documents. 'K' is the very short form of her 'real name' which is a series of given names given to her over the years. Kei was the first, so 'Kei' it is.
| Date of Birth |
July 14, during the Meiji Period. For the sake of ease, she picked the year 1995 because it sounded funny
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Pansexual
Kei just loves and that's all there is to it.
| Occupation |
In the most technical sense she's unemployed. However, she is often seen doing altruistic activities, from volunteering with the elderly, to helping out at charity functions, and being a translator for the hearing impaired at large social functions. In the broad sense of the term occupation, Kei would be a Volunteer. She doesn't take salaries but survives on both goodwill and generous donations, but she never asks for them.
| In-Depth Appearance |
For someone that is so quiet Kei's sense of style is rather loud. Though rather short, standing at just about five feet flat, she stands out due to her eccentric choice in attire. Rare is the day when Kei isn't wearing clashing, bright colors or mismatched articles of clothing or bogged down with so many accessories that she sounds like a piggy bank when she walks. There's a very childish quality to her style, like what one would imagine a child would dress like if their parents just let them go wild for a day.
Though Kei wears bright, gaudy clothing, the brightest thing about her is her smile. She's always smiling, even towards people that she's never met, and her wide grin is matched by the wonder that is clear in her bright brown eyes. How her eyes are so bright is a mystery, but they're the brightest browns Kei has ever seen. Much like with her clothing, Kei's hair is eccentric though has periods where the style doesn't change, just the color. Often she'll go blonde for a month and then spend half a year with brown hair before deciding that she felt like streaking her hair in a rainbow.
What makes her vibrant style all the more odd - as if there weren't enough oddities as is - is that she doesn't look like a child; she actually looks like an adult, albeit one that still possess the quality of life that several youths have. But there are blemishes on her skin covered up by cosmetics (which area also eyecatching and vibrant) and a sort of weary-eyed tiredness behind the wide wonderment. She's an especially slim woman, but with that comes a flexibility that always manages to get applause and oohs and aahs from those she's entertaining.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Childish ♦ Eternally Optimistic ♦ Vibrant ♦ Altruistic ♦
Kei only cares about one thing on any given day and that is making sure that anyone she meets leaves with a smile or, failing that, a brightened mood. She treats the world and the things she sees with a childlike wonder, impressed by the simplest things no matter how often she sees them. Kei is the type of person who is amazed every time someone turns on the lights in a dark room. This also has he unfortunate side effect of her being rather naive, or at least quite good at pretending to be naive. Kei doesn't see the bad in anyone, still believing after all these years that everyone is a wonderful person and that so-called 'bad people' are just people that don't know how good they truly are.
Of course, because things are rarely so sunshine and rainbows as Kei would like to believe, she has been taken advantage of countless times in her life. People have taken every bit of money she had on her person and she would still wave them goodbye and wish them well. That she is so positive could very much be seen as dangerous, after all who was always so damn happy, but with Kei that's just how she is. There's no deep ulterior motive, she's just happy to meet you and happier to help you if she can.
Even still, Kei has felt the years and the countless instances of strife, from small conflicts to larger, world affairs, and though she has remained so upbeat all this time...it's definitely taken its toll on the girl. Her greatest fear is in finding out what would happen if she should wake up one day and not feel positive. She doesn't believe she could handle such a powerful mood swing so she'll continue to smile until it hurts.
And even then she'll endure it so long as it makes people happy.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Children, and their innocent laughter and joy
✔ The satisfaction that comes with helping others
✔ Ice Cream. Such a sweet treat should be enjoyed year round!
✔ Walking under an umbrella on a rainy day, with company or alone
✔ Stand up comedians, but not the super raunchy ones.
✔ Handheld games, they're so colorful!
✔ Making snow angels or really any weather-related activity
✘ Rude, vulgar people
✘ Being ignored
✘ People that don't thank others for holding the door open
✘ Spicy foods, why do they have to be so hot?
✘ Action movies
✘ People that spend most of their day looking at their phones. You're missing out on life!
✘ Loud, abrasive music
| History |
For the longest time, Kei was alone. She was born, she believes, but she knew only the faces of her parents and the hushed whispers before things went dark. When she awoke, she was alone and lost, living near a mountain in relative seclusion. Animals fled from her; perhaps they could sense the magical energies present inside of her, magical energies which never seemed to manifest themselves. Still, Kei, then a nameless fairy, tried to keep a positive outlook on her situation. She was surrounded by such beauty, after all, the trees and grass, the clouds in the sky, the wind in the air...what was not to love about, well...life?
Her first meeting with others came when her ears picked up the sounds of what sounded like singing. Curious, Kei followed her ears to find a gathering of humans who weren't singing but rather praying as they buried one of their own. Kei didn't say a word, she merely observed this curious act until it ended. As the humans were returning to their homes, Kei met the gaze of a young man; she waved to him but he was whisked away before any further interaction could be made. The man came back a few days later and attempted to converse with Kei. Kei had never heard the language before, but enjoyed listening to the speech. The man believed that she was like the spirits in the stories, the ones that could bring the dead back to life.
The man took her back to his home where his mother had fallen gravely ill. He wanted Kei to save her but the only comfort Kei could bring was to make the sickly woman's last days brighter. The mother passed on with a smile and Kei was welcomed among the humans as someone to ease the transition fro life to death. She didn't exactly understand this, but she was needed, she was loved, and she was happy. Kei was given the name Kei, after the first man's mother, and she lived among the people, learning their language at a rapid pace. It wasn't long before she was actually having conversations with everyone.
But time is a cruel mistress and the people Kei lived with eventually succumbed to their own end. But Kei wouldn't let sadness keep her down, she couldn't. So she traveled, finding another village and living among them. While she couldn't raise the dead, she could ease the dying and that was a valued commodity in those days. Kei's heart knew no evil and is what allowed her to remain so youthful and childish well into her years.
With the advent of continental travel, Kei's horizons expanded, and for the longest time she simply found a place to settle and learn and interact with the population. Spoken languages were a minor hurdle but she learned quickly. Kei took to learning sign language because it was international. Her travels just so happened to coincide with her stay in the U.K. and because coincidences are a real problem, so too did the world find out about the Others. She counts herself among them, being that she is one of them, but she hopes that this revelation can usher in peace between the two vastly different cultures.
Even Others know how to smile, after all.
| Family |
Kei considers everyone she's lived with to be her family, and that is far too long a list. But she remembers them all. Or...well...most of them.
| Strengths |
Never in a bad mood
A people person
Honest to a fault
| Weaknesses |
Naive, very much so
Easily swayed
Gets lost fairly frequently
The Other
| Theme Song |
Hurry Up! – noanowa
”Being alone makes me feel like I’m about to lose all the time
When I was sad, when I was happy,
you were by my side all the time
It was a miracle
The world I saw with you
It’s like soaring lightning in a storm
I wish tirelessly
for tomorrow to be a great day
For it to be a great day”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 7B or with anyone who lets her stay over
| Extra Information |
Negative |
1,016 | 14 | 31 | 709 | 301 | Andrew Mordekai
Location: Faraday Heights 27B
Interacting With: Katie Claire
Andy nodded to Claire as she entered the common area, acknowledging her point about the Unseelie protest. He was sure he'd hate it come 3 PM, seeing as that would be close to his shift ending, but it was the pinnacle of non-violent protest. Well...Andy hoped it was non-violent. All of England wasn't responsible, after all. "Eggs would be lovely, dear. Thank ya. " He smiled in appreciation and set to setting the table for the three of them. Their kitchenware was simple, white ceramic but it certainly got the job done.
After setting the table, he darted off to his room to slip into his work slacks and black button-up, long-sleeved sadly. On the left breast, a little brown pile of coffee beans was embroidered, with "Andrew" etched in green underneath. Tacky, uncomfortable, and professional, hitting all the high notes of Andy's distaste for formal fashion. Mr. Lawrence, his boss, gave him the nastiest look when he asked to rip off the sleeves. If he wasn't hurting for money, he would have done it anyways just to fuck with him. But alas, the life of a public servant beckoned. At least he took his showers in the evening, to relieve all the day's stress, so no extra steps to his morning routine.
He left his room in time to see Katie bumble her way out of her room, a warm smile on his face. "Morning to you too, sunshine." He watched briefly as she assembled her cup of coffee...if it still was that, after all the fixings. "Might wanna down that milkshake real fast, love. Shift starts in an hour and the commute's gonna be shit in this snow. Toast works, though." Andy teased briefly, slipping past Claire to grab butter knives and silverware from a basket next to the stove for all three of them.
After placing them down with napkins on the counter, next to the plates, Andy realized they'd be leaving Claire to herself. "Ya got anything planned, Claire? Need us to bring ya something back after work?" | Liam Woodsworth
Dhampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Elliot Liam Woodsworth
He prefers the informality of Liam
| Date of Birth |
October 19, 1992
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Liam works as an IT assistant at a local tech shop, mixes music as a hobby, and volunteers at a blood bank for his less savory needs. Yes, the last one is morally dubious, but he’s not going to be around long enough to actually care, now will he? On the music note, he tends to whip up tracks with heavy bass and high tempos, as he finds them euphoric...almost as euphoric as the recreational drugs that may eventually overtake his work ethic.
| In-Depth Appearance |
”That poor boy...darling, do you eat?
”Damn my boy, have you seen a doctor? Pale as a ghost, ya are.”
Sickly. Liam is sickly. He is tall, gaunt, pale...and he isn’t even fucking sick most of the time. He blames it on his lineage, daddy was an awfully stereotypical bloodsucker. Maybe it’s the rapidly degenerating body? Maybe it’s his refusal to indulge his hemo-cravings until absolutely necessary? He doesn’t care, really. Liam’s got places to be, stunts to do, and a short life to live. This is apparent in his messy medium-long brown hair, disheveled fashion of band shirts and loose ripped denim, and a general air of “I really don’t give a fuck, come not give a fuck with me”. His brown eyes speak of a troubled past and a carefree future, of resignation and of the triumphant freedom in that revelation. Liam’s voice is soft, enticing, as though it itself realized the throat it was bound to was horribly unfitting and made a show to be better. To be a selling point.
When you’re a local pariah, ya have to have something going for ya, right?
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Morbid ♦ Relaxed ♦ Indulgent ♦ Welcoming ♦
There is a comfort in knowing death is coming.
You become prepared. You enjoy every moment, every pain, every sensation that smolders on the neurons. Liam has accepted this, and he relishes it. It’s relaxing, and he exudes this calm repose around him. Those that aren’t aware of his supernatural bastard status are always laid back around him, if not worried by his random pains and sickly pallor. Those that are...well, he’s not obnoxious enough to warrant a lynch mob yet. But who knows what’ll come in the future... sure would save him pill money.
Pill money that could go towards more fun pills! Since he knows his time is short, Liam takes every chance he gets to explore the unsavory and wonderful of the world. Drugs, alcohol with dubious origins and long names, ancient rituals that cause really weird spirit trips, (he had to give a “favor” to a Witch for that one but damn was it worth it. Ever see ancient cosmic deities play limbo with a meteor belt? Liam has.), are all things he has and is willing to try. Dangerous stunts are also kinda fun, when the crippling pains aren’t hitting hard. There are no limits to what he’ll try. Of course it’s dangerous, sometimes deadly. Sometimes it’s kind of like daring Death to make its move.
Sadly, this applies to people too. He blazes through relationships and sex like it’s nothing but a carnal transaction. Maybe one day he’ll find someone that quences his cravings. Likely? Liam doesn’t think so.
But in all respects, Liam wants friends. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants stories passed around about him after he moves on from Edgetoun. Stories about that crazy ass pale kid that did a somersault off a building after three lines of coke and a tab of acid, lived, and then ran a 500. Okay...that’s excessive and he’d probably be dead after the first part of that, but...the point is there. As such, he doesn’t want to hurt people either. The option to get that street shit from dealers was a tempting one, but that blood could come from anyone. Anything. Through...less than fun means. At least at the blood donor center, that was willingly given. No violence or pain, even if it’s stealing...he tries to take what’s in abundance, none of the important rare shit. He doesn’t deserve that.
In the end, when you have a very short time to experience life, you shouldn’t waste that life on brooding and sorrow. Get out there, live...no matter what everyone says. No matter if you’re the monster they say you are.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Electronic music No words. No hidden meanings. Just raw emotion. It’s delightfully primal.
✔Adrenaline rushes Ya know when you’re on a coaster and your balls just go right up in your stomach? Yeah. That’s what I like.
✔New things So much to do, so much to see, so much to- Alright, I’ll stop. Sorry.
✔Fall England’s nice in the fall. Cloudy, damp...it’s comforting.
✔A good adventure graphic novel The art, man! Plus, less words, faster reading, meaning more awesome shit for me.
✔Jaffa cakes Tiny. Portable. Orangey. They are my one true love.
✔So many drugs. Specifically acid and coke, and any eldritch shit he can get. Oh the places you will go…
✘Staying home As much as I’d like it to, my mix board doesn’t usually talk to me. Usually.
✘Those who waste what they have Almost everyone has so much left to live. So much to give to society. Why the fuck would you throw that away?
✘Sulky folks Aw, cheer up mate. Wanna grab ice cream? Fucking love ice cream.
✘Violence Come on. Talk your shit out. You start busting heads, I’ll split you the fuck up. Got it?
✘Salad. Or anything vaguely green. It's crispy fucking water. That's gross.
✘Sunny weather. Fuck you, dad.
✘Dependency. I'm a strong, independent abomination. Well...less strong, more independent. Ya get me, yeah?
| History |
The fall brought with it cool air, warm homes, a time for families to come together…
And produce an awful bastardization of life.
Liam came into the world a screamer. Like he already knew, day one out of the womb, that he was already on his way out. He got all of his screaming out then.
Born to a middle class mother and a bloodsucking poppa that bolted the minute he knew one of his dark little swimmers hit home. Yeah, typical daddy issues, blah blah...Liam never really cared much past passive aggressive comments and normal annoyances. His mother Trisha lived with her parents then, the three of them taking care of this sad, ill child. It was rough, and they never really understood what he was. The father had the eventual courtesy, about five years in, to inform poor Trisha about what exactly she’d brought into the world. She didn’t believe the fucker, of course.
Until Liam really started liking raw meat.
Not the meat itself, but the leftover blood in the package. Terrified, confused, and just feeling awful all around, she had to reorganize her life and her idea of parenting to fit this child. She packed up and they moved to the countryside.
And so began the “Don’t Bite” motto of life. Liam learned not to hurt folks to stop his own pain, to enjoy what he had...like a mother that didn’t try and kill him with a stake. She cared more to give her son what he needed...blood. Her blood. Just enough to keep him sated. Liam learned respect, caring, and restraint, qualities sometimes not found in his full-blooded kin.
There was a rough spot in secondary school when Liam learned that he wasn’t going to live a long, happy life. The pain was a sign. The slightly quick growth, another. And once he ran into a couple vampires that were flying under the radar, they made him understand how low he was. That he was a mistake. Suddenly, parties became enticing, every new drink and drug an experience worth dying for. Trisha had to go through hoops to keep doctors from drawing his blood, let alone run any drug tests on him. Their relationship was strained around then, and once Liam graduated he left for London to cool down and mature.
Fast-forward, and Liam’s working a menial job to make ends meet in Edgetoun. IT work fit him, since he spent a large portion of his teens messing with electronic instruments and computers his few friends had. Plus, lots of people needed help with their newfangled gadgets and gizmos, and he was happy to help and talk to them. Recently, he’s back in touch with his mother and patching things up...while not telling her about all the crazy shit he does for fun. No need to worry her.
But how can she not be worried when her pariah of a son is on the ass end of a bloody race war?
| Family |
Trisha Woodsworth | Mother : A kind, gentle woman, with a fair bit of paranoia. You get that when your kid’s kind of on the chopping block.
| Strengths |
Incredibly open-minded
Curious
Protective
| Weaknesses |
No real restraint
Locked to his path, sees no other future; “Blinders” on
Lacks any sort of commitment
The Other
| Theme Song |
Marry The Night – Lady Gaga
”I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen
Live passionately tonight”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens 5B
| Extra Information |
Liam has a lizard named Squeaks. That fucker knows shit. |
1,017 | 14 | 32 | 709 | 301 | Interacting with: Andy Katie
"Good to see you're awake, Katie." The young witch got around to whipping up a couple of omelettes. Red peppers, sausage, and cheese for herself, while the others could call in whatever they liked. "Take it you saw the news today. This whole Unseelie business trying to bully everyone into submission isn't going to work. The naturals are already pushing back, as Nick found out. We've had our first Other murder, and there's going to be a whole lot more blood on both sides before everyone comes to their senses."
She shrugged. "What we really need is a chance for passions to cool. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen." A deep sigh escaped her lips. "I'll be heading out to the store this morning. Anything you guys want me to pick up?" | Liam Woodsworth
Dhampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Elliot Liam Woodsworth
He prefers the informality of Liam
| Date of Birth |
October 19, 1992
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Liam works as an IT assistant at a local tech shop, mixes music as a hobby, and volunteers at a blood bank for his less savory needs. Yes, the last one is morally dubious, but he’s not going to be around long enough to actually care, now will he? On the music note, he tends to whip up tracks with heavy bass and high tempos, as he finds them euphoric...almost as euphoric as the recreational drugs that may eventually overtake his work ethic.
| In-Depth Appearance |
”That poor boy...darling, do you eat?
”Damn my boy, have you seen a doctor? Pale as a ghost, ya are.”
Sickly. Liam is sickly. He is tall, gaunt, pale...and he isn’t even fucking sick most of the time. He blames it on his lineage, daddy was an awfully stereotypical bloodsucker. Maybe it’s the rapidly degenerating body? Maybe it’s his refusal to indulge his hemo-cravings until absolutely necessary? He doesn’t care, really. Liam’s got places to be, stunts to do, and a short life to live. This is apparent in his messy medium-long brown hair, disheveled fashion of band shirts and loose ripped denim, and a general air of “I really don’t give a fuck, come not give a fuck with me”. His brown eyes speak of a troubled past and a carefree future, of resignation and of the triumphant freedom in that revelation. Liam’s voice is soft, enticing, as though it itself realized the throat it was bound to was horribly unfitting and made a show to be better. To be a selling point.
When you’re a local pariah, ya have to have something going for ya, right?
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Morbid ♦ Relaxed ♦ Indulgent ♦ Welcoming ♦
There is a comfort in knowing death is coming.
You become prepared. You enjoy every moment, every pain, every sensation that smolders on the neurons. Liam has accepted this, and he relishes it. It’s relaxing, and he exudes this calm repose around him. Those that aren’t aware of his supernatural bastard status are always laid back around him, if not worried by his random pains and sickly pallor. Those that are...well, he’s not obnoxious enough to warrant a lynch mob yet. But who knows what’ll come in the future... sure would save him pill money.
Pill money that could go towards more fun pills! Since he knows his time is short, Liam takes every chance he gets to explore the unsavory and wonderful of the world. Drugs, alcohol with dubious origins and long names, ancient rituals that cause really weird spirit trips, (he had to give a “favor” to a Witch for that one but damn was it worth it. Ever see ancient cosmic deities play limbo with a meteor belt? Liam has.), are all things he has and is willing to try. Dangerous stunts are also kinda fun, when the crippling pains aren’t hitting hard. There are no limits to what he’ll try. Of course it’s dangerous, sometimes deadly. Sometimes it’s kind of like daring Death to make its move.
Sadly, this applies to people too. He blazes through relationships and sex like it’s nothing but a carnal transaction. Maybe one day he’ll find someone that quences his cravings. Likely? Liam doesn’t think so.
But in all respects, Liam wants friends. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants stories passed around about him after he moves on from Edgetoun. Stories about that crazy ass pale kid that did a somersault off a building after three lines of coke and a tab of acid, lived, and then ran a 500. Okay...that’s excessive and he’d probably be dead after the first part of that, but...the point is there. As such, he doesn’t want to hurt people either. The option to get that street shit from dealers was a tempting one, but that blood could come from anyone. Anything. Through...less than fun means. At least at the blood donor center, that was willingly given. No violence or pain, even if it’s stealing...he tries to take what’s in abundance, none of the important rare shit. He doesn’t deserve that.
In the end, when you have a very short time to experience life, you shouldn’t waste that life on brooding and sorrow. Get out there, live...no matter what everyone says. No matter if you’re the monster they say you are.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Electronic music No words. No hidden meanings. Just raw emotion. It’s delightfully primal.
✔Adrenaline rushes Ya know when you’re on a coaster and your balls just go right up in your stomach? Yeah. That’s what I like.
✔New things So much to do, so much to see, so much to- Alright, I’ll stop. Sorry.
✔Fall England’s nice in the fall. Cloudy, damp...it’s comforting.
✔A good adventure graphic novel The art, man! Plus, less words, faster reading, meaning more awesome shit for me.
✔Jaffa cakes Tiny. Portable. Orangey. They are my one true love.
✔So many drugs. Specifically acid and coke, and any eldritch shit he can get. Oh the places you will go…
✘Staying home As much as I’d like it to, my mix board doesn’t usually talk to me. Usually.
✘Those who waste what they have Almost everyone has so much left to live. So much to give to society. Why the fuck would you throw that away?
✘Sulky folks Aw, cheer up mate. Wanna grab ice cream? Fucking love ice cream.
✘Violence Come on. Talk your shit out. You start busting heads, I’ll split you the fuck up. Got it?
✘Salad. Or anything vaguely green. It's crispy fucking water. That's gross.
✘Sunny weather. Fuck you, dad.
✘Dependency. I'm a strong, independent abomination. Well...less strong, more independent. Ya get me, yeah?
| History |
The fall brought with it cool air, warm homes, a time for families to come together…
And produce an awful bastardization of life.
Liam came into the world a screamer. Like he already knew, day one out of the womb, that he was already on his way out. He got all of his screaming out then.
Born to a middle class mother and a bloodsucking poppa that bolted the minute he knew one of his dark little swimmers hit home. Yeah, typical daddy issues, blah blah...Liam never really cared much past passive aggressive comments and normal annoyances. His mother Trisha lived with her parents then, the three of them taking care of this sad, ill child. It was rough, and they never really understood what he was. The father had the eventual courtesy, about five years in, to inform poor Trisha about what exactly she’d brought into the world. She didn’t believe the fucker, of course.
Until Liam really started liking raw meat.
Not the meat itself, but the leftover blood in the package. Terrified, confused, and just feeling awful all around, she had to reorganize her life and her idea of parenting to fit this child. She packed up and they moved to the countryside.
And so began the “Don’t Bite” motto of life. Liam learned not to hurt folks to stop his own pain, to enjoy what he had...like a mother that didn’t try and kill him with a stake. She cared more to give her son what he needed...blood. Her blood. Just enough to keep him sated. Liam learned respect, caring, and restraint, qualities sometimes not found in his full-blooded kin.
There was a rough spot in secondary school when Liam learned that he wasn’t going to live a long, happy life. The pain was a sign. The slightly quick growth, another. And once he ran into a couple vampires that were flying under the radar, they made him understand how low he was. That he was a mistake. Suddenly, parties became enticing, every new drink and drug an experience worth dying for. Trisha had to go through hoops to keep doctors from drawing his blood, let alone run any drug tests on him. Their relationship was strained around then, and once Liam graduated he left for London to cool down and mature.
Fast-forward, and Liam’s working a menial job to make ends meet in Edgetoun. IT work fit him, since he spent a large portion of his teens messing with electronic instruments and computers his few friends had. Plus, lots of people needed help with their newfangled gadgets and gizmos, and he was happy to help and talk to them. Recently, he’s back in touch with his mother and patching things up...while not telling her about all the crazy shit he does for fun. No need to worry her.
But how can she not be worried when her pariah of a son is on the ass end of a bloody race war?
| Family |
Trisha Woodsworth | Mother : A kind, gentle woman, with a fair bit of paranoia. You get that when your kid’s kind of on the chopping block.
| Strengths |
Incredibly open-minded
Curious
Protective
| Weaknesses |
No real restraint
Locked to his path, sees no other future; “Blinders” on
Lacks any sort of commitment
The Other
| Theme Song |
Marry The Night – Lady Gaga
”I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen
Live passionately tonight”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens 5B
| Extra Information |
Liam has a lizard named Squeaks. That fucker knows shit. |
1,018 | 14 | 33 | 2,567 | 1,182 | Location: Faraday Heights, 24A — Home
Interacting with: The Internet fucking idiots, Eve , Alistair mention
Fuck.
Fucking.
Fucking hell.
Motherfucking hell.
Blake had been up all night, binge-watching Vampire Diaries American Horror Story until the sun came up. She had been planning on sleeping in all day like the lazy bum that her mother always chided her for being. Staying up all night, sleeping all day... It was hardly an ideal nor well-established sleeping schedule, but Blake was alright with it. It was her day off from the coffee shop, and she was fully intent on sleeping until 2 PM.
That is, until her phone started vibrating like crazy at around 8 AM. She's only gotten like, three hours of sleep. Angrily, she reached over to grab her phone to chuck it across the room when — holy shit, there were literally hundreds of notifications and counting. Facebook, twitter, youtube, blog comments, private messages, texts, and even phone calls were pouring in with more and more notifications.
What the hell is going on? With bleary eyes, she glared at her phone, jamming down on the volume button to silence it as quickly as possible. Blake was fully intent on rolling back over for more sleep, but the subjects of her messages convinced her to stay awake.
BPrez, do you really think that Mortals First is going to eradicate all of the supernatural?
so, u nvr comfirmed wether marilyn mansion wuz a vamp or nt
Hello Blake,
I was seeing all of the news this morning, and I was wondering whether it would be safe for my child to go to school? I've recently found out that there was a number of students in her class that aren't human, and I'm extremely worried about her safety and well-being. I don't hate The Other by any means, but I don't want them imposing their supernatural agenda upon my impressionable daughter.
Also, will silver and garlic keep her safe, just in case? Do you know of any charms and talismans to keep them away?
@BPrez
will the unseelie fae create a new ice age?
#noschool #supernatural #snow #fariesexist #amihigh #Bprez #wtf
What's up with the whole helsing thing?Are they being real?
why are you so intent on speaking up for the other, they don't belong
is murdering a not-human still murder
No one cares about them, alright?
Helsing
helsing helsing
hesling HELSING
helsing helsing
helsing helsing
HELSIng helsing
helsing
helsing
Plastered all over her various social media were confused questions, enraged people, bigoted fuckers, and some people legitimately trying to understand what was going on. And for some reason, they directed their questions at her. Does Blake look like she's part of Mortals First to you!? Maybe try asking your questions to them. Surely they'd have more answers on whether they're really going to go through with whatever their threats were.
Speaking of which.... Helsing? What?
Blake of course knew the name — she had only read every single book concerning the supernatural, after all — but it was trending everywhere. With a sense of dread and some morbid curiosity, she followed the links through the various news sites that popped up. Her phone was loading way too slowly, and just as she was about to give up and go on her computer, she saw it.
It was an eventful morning, to say the least. For the past hour or so, Blake had been glued to her laptop, angrily blogging about how Mortals First could suck a bag of dicks (don't worry, she didn't actually post that. She wrote it out though, it was like 4 pages long), going through and addressing the major questions about the Other that were directed towards her. She was hardly an authority figure about this subject, but at least she did her research. At least she was informed, unlike those people who just jumped to conclusions.
Oh, and she had thrown a book out of frustration. Due to her absolutely shitty aim it had hit the window and broke it. Oops. One awkward call to her landlord, twenty replies written, and some research done on the whole Mortals First thing later... Blake was finally forced to admit that she could no longer function without coffee. Might as well go all the way and get ready for the day too.
Once she was changed and hastily brushed her teeth, Blake wrapped a blanket around herself and trudged out to the the living room, after she mechanically went through the process of making instant coffee. Blake plunked down on the couch beside Eve in silence; it was nothing new. Blake simply didn't function until she had some caffeine in her system.
Several gulps later, Blake finally spoke up, wrapping her slender, chilled fingers around her mug. "Landlord is coming by soon. May have broken a window. It was an accident though, I swear. Also, morning."
Location: 19 Avalon Point — home
Interacting with: Alistair
snow snow SNOW!!! Megumi's already smiling face brightened even further (if such a feat was possible) at the mention of those delightful white flakes. London was a strange place — did it usually snow in September here? Snowmen, snow angels, snow forts, snowballs, and now snow bunnies!? School was cancelled, and now there was snow, and they could do so many things with them. Did you know that there was a type of syrup candy that you could make from snow!? Imagine all of the possibilities! This morning just kept getting better and better.
Like most children, all Megumi wanted to do was run around outside in the snow — or so she thought, at least. At the mention of being left behind, her face visibly fell. Even there were many people to play with, she never liked being left behind. The poor girl had separation anxiety, and could be quite a handful when left behind with others — especially before she opened up to them. A lot of distractions and constant mothering was required from her babysitters at first; it seemed that she was getting better though, relaxing more around certain people she liked. As Alistair continued on and invited her along with him, all initial disappointments disappeared and became promptly forgotten.
"Boring adult stuff!" Megumi gave the obvious answer gleefully, already running over to her drawers to pick out her clothes for the day. How could adult things be so boring? Everyone her age always wanted to be a grown-up, and adults would always tell them to enjoy being a child. Was being an adult boring? Even though they got to drive cars and buy whatever they wanted? She supposed that she would never find out. Once people had found out that she would always be a child, they would often express their jealousy and tell her how lucky she was.
Was she lucky? Megumi certainly was, (being a yokai of fortune and all that) but she would often wonder what she's missing out on by not growing up. | | Name |
Fiona Blake Preston
If you call her Fiona, she will cut you. It's Blake.
| Date of Birth |
October 13th, 1997
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Fluid
| Occupation |
High school dropout — Blogger/Youtuber and barista
Blake was never a straight A student. She often cut class, didn't turn in homework, didn't study... It was only a matter of time until she dropped out. Fortunately for her, she's found minor success in blogging. While she doesn't rake in the a LOT of money, it's enough to keep her afloat. As long as she keeps her barista job at this little coffee shop, she can get by with a little extra left over for herself.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Despite the fact that she's always telling people to "FITE ME," Blake is a rather frail and petite. She may be tough, and she may bite and claw and kick and play dirty, but at the end of the day she's a petite lady that only stands at 5'2. She definitely does not look physically imposing whatsoever. Her threats are often disregarded for good reason — Blake is in no way able to hold her own in a fight.
Blake is "unladylike" according to her mother. She doesn't sit up straight, and spreads her legs when she sits down. Even after years of being chastised by her mother, she hasn't learned (or rather, refused to learn) and her posture is the worst it's ever been and it makes her look even shorter than she actually is. There's usually a cigarette between her slender fingers, and when she's relaxing at all, she sprawls out all over the ground, bench, couch, chair... Whatever it may be. Yup, she's the type of person to sit at the edge of a seat and lean back, spread her arms and legs out and hog the entire thing.
It's obvious from her own sense of style (it's grunge, by the way) that she doesn't particularly put too much effort into her appearance. Her unruly hair is always tied up in a messy ponytail without a second thought or any particular styling. Her naturally brunette hair is hastily bleached with her roots beginning to show. Her face is usually devoid of makeup — it's too much work, and too girly. Oh, speaking of which, Blake will always always always resist wearing skirts or dresses or heels. It takes a lot of convincing to force her into one of those things. She's content with her ripped jeans, combat boots and flannel thank you very much.
"Blake Preston; Blogger, youtuber, queer extraordinaire, and general failure at life at your service."
| Personality |
♦ Hotheaded ♦ Temperamental ♦ Aggressive ♦ Tomboy ♦
A girl prone to outbursts of emotions, Blake is someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word "restraint." She lets her emotions run freely and away, often leaving her more rational brain behind. She doesn't hold back whatsoever; when she's angry, she rages. When she's sad, she wails. When she laughs, everything about her lights up. She's passionate, and she experiences life to the fullest. Sometimes a little too fully. Her passionate moods have a tendency to be volatile and rampant, often swinging wildly out of her own control. There's little to no chance in reasoning with her when she's upset in any way.
Blake has an adventurous streak that's unbound and unrestricted by rules. She bends and sometimes even breaks laws (to her, they're more like guidelines) to suit her needs. A lot of her interest was peaked by stories of the supernatural and the occult, so she's done her fair share of breaking into abandoned houses that were supposedly haunted and such. She's not a skeptic, she's a believer. There's just got to be something beyond humanity. It's a little cheesy, but her fascination with monsters, ghost stories, fortune telling... It's unparalleled. She's never been the type to sit down and study anything, but she's spent hours and hours poring over books concerning the mystical.
She's rather aggressive and isn't afraid to get into anyone's face. She can often be heard telling people to "FIGHT ME" and "Wanna say that to my face!?" and "I can take ya!" while shooting death glares. She's all talk though, and although she wouldn't hesitate to punch someone in the face, she knows that she's a bit too weak to really fight someone. It doesn't stop her from egging someone on though. That's landed her in a lot of trouble in the past when she bites off a lot more than she can chew and pushes someone too far.
Blake doesn't make friends very easily due to her temperamental and aggressive nature, but when she does make friends she displays a softer side. She cares a lot about many different things, and that includes the people close to her heart. She's overprotective, sometimes a bit smothering with her affection, and is a bit clumsy at being a friend, but she sure as hell is loyal and tries her very best.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Occult, ghost stories and horror movies
✔Chocolate milkshakes with whipped cream topping and a chocolate drizzle on top
✔Tim Burton movies
✔Bending rules and sneaking around
✔Spicy snacks like hot cheetos and takis
✔Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✔Thrills and adventure
✔Nachos
✔Fortune Telling (notably palm-reading and tarot cards)
✔Playing guitar
✘Being feminine
✘Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✘Feeling trapped
✘Being forced to do something (like schoolwork)
✘Licorice
✘Cats — They're cute but she's very allergic
✘Fancy chocolates
| History |
Can you believe that the tomboy-ish Blake was once a girl that dressed in Mary Janes, flouncy skirts and ribbons in her hair? When she was younger, Fiona actually went by her first name, and she was her mother's little angel and dress up doll. Coming from a very traditional family that adhered to gender norms and such, she was expected to be quiet and ladylike, while her brother was allowed to be unruly and wild. She didn't appreciate that at all. Why did she have to stay indoors and play house and dress up her barbies when her brother was allowed to play outside in the dirt?
It was around middle school when she started rebelling against her parents. You know, the dreaded "goth" phase that a lot of people go through when they're in the beginning stages of a teenager. She dyed her hair black, wore a ton of eyeliner, scoffed at the "prepz and pozers" and rejected everything that her mother expected her to be. Thankfully she grew out of it eventually, but she found herself a completely different identity than what she was supposed to be.
And you know what? She never looked back. She ditched the skirts, the ribbons, all of the pink and lace — much to her mother's chagrin. That's when her relation with her parents plummeted. They couldn't comprehend why she was being so rebellious. What happened to the sweet little girl that they raised? Where did they go wrong? She rejected her birth name of Fiona, started staying out past curfew, ditching school, started hanging out with the wrong crowd... Her grades were suffering, she stopped caring about things and started living for herself.
Needless to say, she didn't last too long at school or home after that. She dropped out of school in the middle of her Junior year, and moved out the moment she turned eighteen. She stayed at her friend's house for a few months, working the odd jobs until she had saved up enough to go rent her own place.
For years, she's maintained a blog and a youtube channel. In her sophomore year, it started really picking up and gaining popularity. She has a large following that are dedicated to her — enough for her to start making money off of those. She's fairly well-known as a presence on the internet. She talks about a lot of stuff on the two, but notably she explores various supernatural theories and the occult.
And now it's been confirmed that the supernatural do exist? Uh, can you say best day ever?
| Family |
Maria Preston - Mother — Maria Preston is Blake's strict mother. She had high expectations for her only daughter, and was extremely disappointed when she didn't grow up to be as she hoped. She wanted Blake to grow up to be a proper lady — educated, respected, independent, and to marry a nice man. A doctor, perhaps. Obviously Blake rebelled against it, and their relation has been strained ever since. They haven't talked to each other ever since Blake moved out a few years ago.
Michael Preston - Father — Michael has always been out and about, flying all over the world for his job. He's been absent for a lot of Blake's childhood, so Blake harbors some resentment towards him. He came back in her preteen years, just in time for her transition into a new person. Along with his wife, he tried a bit too hard to push Blake back into a more appropriate direction. He's been absent for the majority of her childhood; what does he know?
Andy Preston - Older brother — Blake has always been jealous of her brother; he always got to do all of the things that she wasn't allowed to. Nevertheless, the two have always managed to maintain a close relationship. He's her best friend, and is also the only family member she continues to contact every so often.
| Strengths |
Passionate
Free-spirited
Independent
| Weaknesses |
Stubborn
Short-fused
Overly and needlessly aggressive
Rebellious
"Don't you think that there's no way we're the only ones here? Science can't explain everything — There's something more out there. And I'm going to find out what; damn all the consequences. I want to know."
| Theme Song |
Bad Reputation – Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
”I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation
You're living in the past, it's a new generation
A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights, 24A
| Extra Information |
She has over 10,000 followers on various social media
Fairly skilled with photography — nothing professional, but she has a good eye
At one point she worked as a professional fortune teller
"Bitch, you wanna go? Fight me." |
1,019 | 14 | 34 | 2,206 | 79 | Barachiel Eamon
Location: Welcome Foster Care, London Fostering (Office)
Interacting With: Not a soul
The snow had made traversing to work a rather annoying experience. Barachiel didn’t dislike many things on Earth but it was really beginning to consider adding the cold to that list. The sensation of its boogers freezing as it walked about the snow covered sidewalks coming to the forefront of its protesting senses. How humans had survived whole winters without the comforts of their modern buildings was a true marvel to it.
After finally arriving at its office Barachiel spent the first half hour just trying to warm up. A terribly fruitless task as management didn’t think it cost appropriate to turn the heat up past twenty degrees Celsius. It exchanged the customary pleasantries as it passed its fellow workers. Most were covered in layers of clothing and looked completely miserable. There also seemed to be a fair bit of whispering going on. Barachiel never stopped to catch what it was everyone was speaking about but passing by a few conversations it could hear low mumbles about Helsing. One coworker speaking louder than the rest in particular caught its interest. He was a rather large man, whom Barachiel would describe as equally round as he was tall had his brow in a furrow and eyes that it could only describe as filled with feverish hate. I heard that Conner, you know the guy that is always talking with management? Well I heard that he's actually a friggin' werewolf. He's probably talking with the upper ups all the time trying get them to help him cover up all the children he's eaten. The large man hushed up quickly as a member of said management walked on by. Barachiel had never noticed anything about this Conner, and cast a quick glance over this man who sat typing away at his computer. Sure seemed human to it.
A quick check of its email showed that many of his meetings today with families had been canceled due to the weather. And those were only the ones who were willing to give it a courtesy email. Many more would simply be no shows. So this meant it was a house call kind of day. Which meant braving the cold once again. Barachiel would have to discuss another form of protest with the fae if this kept up much longer.
Well if it was going to be out and about traveling the streets most of the day, it would need a warm beverage. The coffee in the break room had the permanent taste of being burnt and the Early Bean was on the way to the first child it would check on today. Perhaps it could get a pastry for the child while it was at the shop. It was sure the child would enjoy that and it found that fed children tend to listen and pay attention a tad bit better. So Barachiel gathered its folders for the day and putting them neatly in its suitcase before swinging the bag over its shoulder and continuing out into the winter wonderland passing by the large man once again. Can't wait till Helsing kills all them murderous bastards. Hopefully they can get Conner before he decides its time for lunch. | The beard makes me look bad ass right?
Patrick Kershner
Werewolf
Basic Information
| Name |
Patrick Kershner. Not Patty. Patty is a girl’s name got it?
| Date of Birth |
28 July 1996.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Investigative Analyst
| In-Depth Appearance |
Imagine that nerdy kid that got stuffed in school lockers and dragged into the bathrooms by the school bullies because that kid is Patrick. Standing a lanky five foot ten, it’s as if his body went through all the functions of puberty but his arms and legs forgot that they were supposed to reach a certain atheistically pleasing ratio with the body during this period. This combined with the hell that was high school left the young man with a seriously lacking amount of self confidence and it shows on his face and the way he carries himself.
Patrick has a high pitched and what can sometimes be called nasally voice which he believes is the root cause of his tendency to mumble and speed through his sentences when he talks. But on the plus side his choice in clothing is fantastic despite the fact that he’s constantly defending it when he is around his know associates. Everyone knows skinny jeans are in nowa days.
To counter his meager, nerdy looking human side, at nights Patrick is a different man all together. Thick dark black hair will protrude from every office, and his nails will extend, and thicken to a sharpened point to resemble claw. His ears begin to resemble that of a dog or wolf, and his eyes enlarge taking on animalistic fierceness. Oh and there’s always the contorting transformation of his body into a six foot seven, two hundred sixty-five pound hulking mass of terror.
But on the bright side this whole werewolf thing has allowed him to grow a beard which he thinks really helps him look more manly and cooler.
You could say, I had my life together for a whole week before it fell apart again.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Shy ♦ Introvert ♦ Loyal ♦ Caring ♦
Being tortured most of your adolescent life tends to leave its scar on you. Patrick would rather fade into a crowd, yet secretly wants to be the center of attention. He simply wouldn’t know what to do once he was there and he’d probably just break down in panic attack. So he’ll just stick to the fading into the crowd bit. He generally hates the sound of his own voice so he tends to whisper and mumble around people he isn’t comfortable with but when he doesn’t think or know anyone is paying attention he’ll have full blown conversations with himself. Something to help ward of the loneliness he thinks. He’s serious push over with no real back bone to go against the tide and stand up for himself, some idea, or belief, even though he has a really strong moral belief on what’s right and what’s wrong. Really his whole outer shell is just a giant fake façade he puts on for the world, except its not… because you know you’re supposed to be able to stop a façade.
On the plus side when he’s around one of the few people in his inner circle that he’s comfortable with he’ll act without a care in the world. And not only that he’ll be extremely caring and loyal. Where he wouldn’t be willing to squash a fly for himself, he’d take on a whole coven of pissed of witches for one of his friends. Or if it would cheer a friend up at three in the morning he’ll literally run across town (the recent werewolf thing has helped with this) to buy the last chocolate bar being sold. So those are the positives.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔His computer, God knows what he’d do without it.
✔ Squirrels, you can’t say you’ve ever seen an ugly squirrel.
✔ Dogs, I know. Cliché with the werewolf bit but you like what you like.
✔ Thrills. At first he’ll say it’s a horrible idea but by the end he’s really glad he went along with it.
✔ Patterns, like patterns in numbers and studies and shit. Not like floral. Jesus.
✔ His room, good luck getting him out of their without a good deal of complaining.
✔ Texting, it’s so much easier than talking in person.
✘Large Crowds, that’s just asking for a panic attack.
✘ Authority figures, yet another cause of anxiety.
✘ Getting in trouble, nine times out of ten that’s gonna stay with you for the rest of your life man.
✘ Sports, just another excuse to get beaten up.
✘ Spiritual talk, makes him really uncomfortable.
✘ Flirting, did that once. Didn’t turn out so well.
✘ Vegetables, now he has a good excuse to not eat them.
| History |
Patrick’s life has been that of any normal nerd who gets picked on a lot in school for the most part. Good grades, leads to college, where you think things are gonna turn around for you until your anxiety reminds you that you are still you. So instead you spend most of your free time in your room on your computer playing games, while everyone else is going out and experimenting away. He really didn’t have any serious complains. A significant other would have been nice from time to time so he didn’t have to keep going to Rosey Palms. But that’s what really got him into trouble.
After getting out of school, Patrick landed a job with the London police force as a investigative analyst tracking crime patterns. It was actually a pretty decent time. The guys on the force treated him pretty well and he actually started to feel like a welcomed part of a group. In fact he had even been lucky enough to be asked out on a date one morning while he was standing in line waiting for coffee. She was a cute looking girl, who as far as Patrick could tell had a lot more experience at these things than he did. She asked if he wanted to go out to a club with her and a couple of her friends that Friday and eventually when he was done with his dorky gawking and stuttering he got out a yes.
Now suffice to say Patrick had never gone to a club before in his life. The whole thing was intimidating as hell. The girls all had some kind of guy on their arms and Patrick was pretty positive they could each mug him with just their pinky fingers. The getting patted down before being allowed into the club didn’t do much to calm his nerves as he had never guessed that was necessary before he entered. Once he got out onto the dance floor he shuffled around looking what he could only assume was like a complete idiot. He kept thinking that the girl was going to ditch him, but she stayed with him an actual smile on her face. Just when he let his guard down and actually started relaxing and having fun she pulled on his hand and led him off to some back room. That was where things got really bad.
He had never felt so much pain before and pain had been a pretty constant factor back in school. They shredded his skin, clothes, muscles, everything. He was pretty sure he was going to die right then in there killed by creatures that were never supposed to have existed on what had been the best night of his life. But they let him live. Next thing he knew he was in the hospital, the nurse telling him his brothers had brought him in. But that was really odd considering he didn’t have any siblings. A little after that his pack arrived and everything Patrick knew about the world was turned upside down. He didn’t dare refusing joining the Bisclavret pack fearing what they’d do to them if he didn’t. Ever since then he’s been begrudgingly joining them in their sneaky little joining ceremonies, though he’s rarely and active participant leaving some to begin questioning his real loyalty to the pack.
| Family |
John and Stacey Kershner: His parents live in a small town off in the country and Patrick rarely ever speaks to them regardless how much they bug him. He’s never really felt all that connected to his parents and was plenty happy moving to London requiring him to talk to them even less. That being said he does love them and will check in from time to time.
| Strengths |
Intelligent. Patrick is a smart cookie if nothing else making him very good at his job. And he’s pretty good at catching on to things quickly.
Isn’t very emotional and can deal with just about anything thrown his way. Made him a little numb his life has.
Extremely loyal to those close to him.
| Weaknesses |
A major push over and all around scaredy cat in most regards of his life.
Socially awkward to the extreme.
Never engaged in any serious relationship with another person that didn’t end in a giant joke.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Loser - Beck
” And my time is a piece of wax
Falling' on a termite
Who's choking' on the splinters”
| House Number |
To be discussed.
| Extra Information |
Nothing as of now. |
1,020 | 14 | 35 | 721 | 234 | Opallum
Location: Nearby Faraday Heights once again --> Walking around Edgetoun
Interacting With: No one, currently.
Opallum continued travelling along the sidewalk with little energy in his posture and step. His mind had wandered to the topic of both domestic and international economics -- he had certainly become that bored. Taking a quick 1 o'clock glance to his right, he spotted the familiar architecture of Faraday Heights coming into his view. Looked like the ifrit had finally gone in a circle. He had been walking to nowhere specifically for most of the morning, enjoying whatever aesthetics the borough of Edgetoun had to offer, so it would only make sense that he'd pass by the same landmarks eventually. As Opallum began walking past the Faraday flats with an idle gaze kept forward, he abruptly winced and, almost compulsively, placed a hand atop his abdomen.
There it was.
The sharp pang of realization which strikes the mind and, succinctly, the body. An instinct staunch in its function and pervasive in its blunt indication. For someone like Opallum, these pains had always proved to be an especially familiar nuisance.
Hunger.
Previously, Opallum had only snacked on a half-eaten breakfast sandwich that someone had so hastily thrown away nearby Avalon Heights, and that morsel managed to hold him over for a few hours.
He only now realized that he hadn't another bite of breakfast to eat this entire morning. If having to deal with the makeshift alleyway-bound beds, the prevalent chill of London weather, and the mordant, judgmental gazes of more socioeconomically upstanding passersby couldn't cause enough suffering among the homeless community, hunger was a particular aspect of this life which really just . . . blew. Rather than going through the usual, tedious process of sifting through public trash cans and dumpsters for some slightly edible scraps of food, he instead decided to put his quest for sustenance on hold. Sating this desire didn't always take precedence over everything else when it arrived. For now, he would continue walking around -- drifting. Opallum would wait for maybe an hour or two before seriously seeking out any foodstuffs. He could endure. | "Frankie Knuckles was something else, I'm telling you."
Opallum
Demon - 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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.
| 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."
| 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.
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?"
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."
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."
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.
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."
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
I do like people, but he's probably the last person I want to hang around.
Yukiko Abe
"Not sure who that is."
Should meet her at some point.
Mona
"Huh?"
No goddamn clue who that is.
Faron Romane
"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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
No one I know all too well.
Elise Callaghan
"Sorry, not a clue."
Nothing up in my head about her . . .
Claire O'Malley
"Uhm . . . Eh."
Yeah, no. I don't know this girl.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Some posh-looking fellow. All I know."
There's that "-iel" again. Fishy, fishy . . .
Ethan Cooper
"Not a clue."
Seriously, I don't know this person . . .
Alfie Liau
"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. |
1,021 | 14 | 36 | 2,567 | 1,182 | Location: 30A Faraday Heights — Home
Interacting with: Catharine
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
There was a lack of birdsong in the air. It was disconcerting, the fact that there was little to know signs of birds in the past few weeks. The unusual silence hanging in the cold air, the sudden absence of animals... Something strange was going on, and the critters and creatures could sense it. It was always wise to follow the animal's instincts — they often could sense things that was impalpable to humans and supernatural creatures alike.
Once the atypical cold snap happened, Elise stopped throwing open the windows to take a breath of fresh air, and allow the wind to flow through her long hair. There weren't any birds left to offer small chunks of bread, and the chill in the air felt sinister, foreboding. That's not how she wanted to start her mornings. She had enough thoughts in her mind to mull over, and concerning herself with the actions of the Unseelie Fae was unnecessary. Despite being otherworldly herself, Elise's knowledge about many of The Other (especially the Fae) was limited at best.
At the end of the day, did it truly matter what they were? They were all sentient beings, able to make their own decisions. Did the origin of their existence matter more than the inner workings of their mind? She had been too caught up in her kind's ways in the past, and years of regret and loss have caused her to muse over this question many times over and over, during the witching hour when all was quiet and still.
Did anything matter, really?
At the sound of her roommate's voice, Elise rose from her vanity desk to peek through the door with a warm smile that contrasted this cold day. Seeing Cara always brightened up Elise a bit, her energy was refreshing, and Elise found that she never really tired of her, even with their contrasting personalities. Opposites attract, she supposed, as she lifted her hand in a small wave. After retrieving the small whiteboard Elise carried around for communication purposes, she wrote in a smooth, elegant script, "You look stressed. Is everything okay?"
Elise's attention was drawn to the news broadcasting in the background. Manifesto, protests, petitions... The storm seemed to be growing and growing. Would there be a peaceful resolution?
The crow hasn't shaken off the snow. The branches were heavy with tension, threatening to break underneath the pressure. | | Name |
Fiona Blake Preston
If you call her Fiona, she will cut you. It's Blake.
| Date of Birth |
October 13th, 1997
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Fluid
| Occupation |
High school dropout — Blogger/Youtuber and barista
Blake was never a straight A student. She often cut class, didn't turn in homework, didn't study... It was only a matter of time until she dropped out. Fortunately for her, she's found minor success in blogging. While she doesn't rake in the a LOT of money, it's enough to keep her afloat. As long as she keeps her barista job at this little coffee shop, she can get by with a little extra left over for herself.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Despite the fact that she's always telling people to "FITE ME," Blake is a rather frail and petite. She may be tough, and she may bite and claw and kick and play dirty, but at the end of the day she's a petite lady that only stands at 5'2. She definitely does not look physically imposing whatsoever. Her threats are often disregarded for good reason — Blake is in no way able to hold her own in a fight.
Blake is "unladylike" according to her mother. She doesn't sit up straight, and spreads her legs when she sits down. Even after years of being chastised by her mother, she hasn't learned (or rather, refused to learn) and her posture is the worst it's ever been and it makes her look even shorter than she actually is. There's usually a cigarette between her slender fingers, and when she's relaxing at all, she sprawls out all over the ground, bench, couch, chair... Whatever it may be. Yup, she's the type of person to sit at the edge of a seat and lean back, spread her arms and legs out and hog the entire thing.
It's obvious from her own sense of style (it's grunge, by the way) that she doesn't particularly put too much effort into her appearance. Her unruly hair is always tied up in a messy ponytail without a second thought or any particular styling. Her naturally brunette hair is hastily bleached with her roots beginning to show. Her face is usually devoid of makeup — it's too much work, and too girly. Oh, speaking of which, Blake will always always always resist wearing skirts or dresses or heels. It takes a lot of convincing to force her into one of those things. She's content with her ripped jeans, combat boots and flannel thank you very much.
"Blake Preston; Blogger, youtuber, queer extraordinaire, and general failure at life at your service."
| Personality |
♦ Hotheaded ♦ Temperamental ♦ Aggressive ♦ Tomboy ♦
A girl prone to outbursts of emotions, Blake is someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word "restraint." She lets her emotions run freely and away, often leaving her more rational brain behind. She doesn't hold back whatsoever; when she's angry, she rages. When she's sad, she wails. When she laughs, everything about her lights up. She's passionate, and she experiences life to the fullest. Sometimes a little too fully. Her passionate moods have a tendency to be volatile and rampant, often swinging wildly out of her own control. There's little to no chance in reasoning with her when she's upset in any way.
Blake has an adventurous streak that's unbound and unrestricted by rules. She bends and sometimes even breaks laws (to her, they're more like guidelines) to suit her needs. A lot of her interest was peaked by stories of the supernatural and the occult, so she's done her fair share of breaking into abandoned houses that were supposedly haunted and such. She's not a skeptic, she's a believer. There's just got to be something beyond humanity. It's a little cheesy, but her fascination with monsters, ghost stories, fortune telling... It's unparalleled. She's never been the type to sit down and study anything, but she's spent hours and hours poring over books concerning the mystical.
She's rather aggressive and isn't afraid to get into anyone's face. She can often be heard telling people to "FIGHT ME" and "Wanna say that to my face!?" and "I can take ya!" while shooting death glares. She's all talk though, and although she wouldn't hesitate to punch someone in the face, she knows that she's a bit too weak to really fight someone. It doesn't stop her from egging someone on though. That's landed her in a lot of trouble in the past when she bites off a lot more than she can chew and pushes someone too far.
Blake doesn't make friends very easily due to her temperamental and aggressive nature, but when she does make friends she displays a softer side. She cares a lot about many different things, and that includes the people close to her heart. She's overprotective, sometimes a bit smothering with her affection, and is a bit clumsy at being a friend, but she sure as hell is loyal and tries her very best.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Occult, ghost stories and horror movies
✔Chocolate milkshakes with whipped cream topping and a chocolate drizzle on top
✔Tim Burton movies
✔Bending rules and sneaking around
✔Spicy snacks like hot cheetos and takis
✔Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✔Thrills and adventure
✔Nachos
✔Fortune Telling (notably palm-reading and tarot cards)
✔Playing guitar
✘Being feminine
✘Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✘Feeling trapped
✘Being forced to do something (like schoolwork)
✘Licorice
✘Cats — They're cute but she's very allergic
✘Fancy chocolates
| History |
Can you believe that the tomboy-ish Blake was once a girl that dressed in Mary Janes, flouncy skirts and ribbons in her hair? When she was younger, Fiona actually went by her first name, and she was her mother's little angel and dress up doll. Coming from a very traditional family that adhered to gender norms and such, she was expected to be quiet and ladylike, while her brother was allowed to be unruly and wild. She didn't appreciate that at all. Why did she have to stay indoors and play house and dress up her barbies when her brother was allowed to play outside in the dirt?
It was around middle school when she started rebelling against her parents. You know, the dreaded "goth" phase that a lot of people go through when they're in the beginning stages of a teenager. She dyed her hair black, wore a ton of eyeliner, scoffed at the "prepz and pozers" and rejected everything that her mother expected her to be. Thankfully she grew out of it eventually, but she found herself a completely different identity than what she was supposed to be.
And you know what? She never looked back. She ditched the skirts, the ribbons, all of the pink and lace — much to her mother's chagrin. That's when her relation with her parents plummeted. They couldn't comprehend why she was being so rebellious. What happened to the sweet little girl that they raised? Where did they go wrong? She rejected her birth name of Fiona, started staying out past curfew, ditching school, started hanging out with the wrong crowd... Her grades were suffering, she stopped caring about things and started living for herself.
Needless to say, she didn't last too long at school or home after that. She dropped out of school in the middle of her Junior year, and moved out the moment she turned eighteen. She stayed at her friend's house for a few months, working the odd jobs until she had saved up enough to go rent her own place.
For years, she's maintained a blog and a youtube channel. In her sophomore year, it started really picking up and gaining popularity. She has a large following that are dedicated to her — enough for her to start making money off of those. She's fairly well-known as a presence on the internet. She talks about a lot of stuff on the two, but notably she explores various supernatural theories and the occult.
And now it's been confirmed that the supernatural do exist? Uh, can you say best day ever?
| Family |
Maria Preston - Mother — Maria Preston is Blake's strict mother. She had high expectations for her only daughter, and was extremely disappointed when she didn't grow up to be as she hoped. She wanted Blake to grow up to be a proper lady — educated, respected, independent, and to marry a nice man. A doctor, perhaps. Obviously Blake rebelled against it, and their relation has been strained ever since. They haven't talked to each other ever since Blake moved out a few years ago.
Michael Preston - Father — Michael has always been out and about, flying all over the world for his job. He's been absent for a lot of Blake's childhood, so Blake harbors some resentment towards him. He came back in her preteen years, just in time for her transition into a new person. Along with his wife, he tried a bit too hard to push Blake back into a more appropriate direction. He's been absent for the majority of her childhood; what does he know?
Andy Preston - Older brother — Blake has always been jealous of her brother; he always got to do all of the things that she wasn't allowed to. Nevertheless, the two have always managed to maintain a close relationship. He's her best friend, and is also the only family member she continues to contact every so often.
| Strengths |
Passionate
Free-spirited
Independent
| Weaknesses |
Stubborn
Short-fused
Overly and needlessly aggressive
Rebellious
"Don't you think that there's no way we're the only ones here? Science can't explain everything — There's something more out there. And I'm going to find out what; damn all the consequences. I want to know."
| Theme Song |
Bad Reputation – Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
”I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation
You're living in the past, it's a new generation
A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights, 24A
| Extra Information |
She has over 10,000 followers on various social media
Fairly skilled with photography — nothing professional, but she has a good eye
At one point she worked as a professional fortune teller
"Bitch, you wanna go? Fight me." |
1,022 | 14 | 37 | 1,523 | 3,443 | Location: At Home - 1 Earl Street, Faircourt
Interacting With: Her Dad, then a mention of Michael
It was about six o'clock in the morning when Astrid received the phone call, but she was already awake. Her mind felt like jelly from lack of sleep – the wibbly, wobbly and sickly orange kind that nobody really liked; they only pretended. She barely registered that the vibrations from her phone weren't an alarm of some sort (not that she would ever get up so early of her own accord) as it shook underneath her leg, somewhere in the puddle of blankets and pillows she'd dumped on her bed.
"Astrid? You awake, luv?"
Slowly, Astrid reached out to turn the drone of late-night and early-morning cartoons down so that she could hear her father better on other side of the phone, or at least have less distraction around to divert her attentions. The pretty colours in the almost pitch-black of the house were blindingly bad enough.
It was a stupid question, anyway. Dad suffered just as badly from insomnia as she did, and together they made the ultimate sleep-deprived team: Mighty Snoring Power Nappers. "Yeah, 'course. What's up? What's the scoop, daddy-o?"
"What does that even mean?" It got a laugh from him though, quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors she knew lived in the flat below him, and that was enough. "Oh, whatever. Not gonna question it at this time in the morning. Anyway, I called for a reason as you probably worked out, so here it is: can you do me a favour?"
"Yeah, of course." Dad never asked her for much – he usually gave. Astrid worried at her bottom lip, then at the hem of the sleeve of her over-sized jumper (which was already frayed to high hell). Her legs slid out from under her and her feet hit the floor for what was finally some blissful movement after three or four hours of a sedentary, binge-watching lifestyle. "So, I ask again, repetitively – what's up?"
A sigh. Never a good sign. "Remember what I was telling you about on Sunday, at McDonalds?" Astrid did – Sundays involved her weekly meet up with her Dad, and she remembered that one above all the others because of how hushed their topic of conversation had become while in such a bright, noisy environment. She had picked at a Happy Meal while they discussed her mother's murder and the current political climate of Britain and how the two related. So Astrid nodded, silently, which her Dad (even over the phone and without seeing her face) took as acknowledgement. "Well I think I'm – maybe, maybe making progress. I was wondering if you still had your mum's stuff?"
"Uh-huh," Astrid answered quickly, discomfort etched into the stiffness in her posture. It felt like desecrating a grave eight years buried. "I'm not gonna throw that out now, am I?"
"I know, I know. I just wanted to make sure," Dean Kitchener said, and she could almost imagine him rubbing at his jawline tensely, just as she tended to do herself. Except, when Astrid worried, she tended to go all the way and chew her lip to shreds like her mother used to. They were quite similar at that. "You still have the camera?"
Astrid nodded but this time realised he wouldn't hear her and was forced to speak through a dry throat. "Battery's died, but I have the pictures on it saved to my laptop, if that's what you're wanting." She moved into the kitchen to get a better signal, and turned on the light on the way past. Bowl and Weetabix down – she was up for good now.
"Yeah. Yeah that's what I need, thanks."
"Want me to email it, or–"
"No!" Well, that was strange. Astrid looked at the phone as if it had just grown a second head (or a first one) because her dad was rarely so hurried. "Bring it to my work, if you can. On a USB. Or just the memory card itself: that could work." A tense silence, broken only by another mumbled groan of acknowledgement and acceptance from Astrid as she took a spoonful of her slightly stale cereal. Nobody else in the world ate Weetabix.
"So what do you want them for?" Chomp, chomp, munch, munch, trying not to sound interested in the circumstances of her own mother's death.
"Tell you later, in person! Gotta go get ready, bye." Stranger still. She let her phone slide back onto the counter, narrowly avoiding the spilled milk she'd get around to cleaning up but instead settling itself on a dried clump of clay. Weird, weird, weird. She didn't like how all this stuff, so wrong, had been happening since the reveal of the supernatural. It wasn't the Others themselves – poor souls, some of them, as she'd learned from the various interviews with unwilling werewolves and vampires – but instead how it pushed her normally sane-ish life into the topsy-turvy Wonderland it was.
"Hey, Michael?" she shouted through to her housemate who was very probably watching Netflix. Sometimes Astrid wondered if he found it just as difficult to sleep at night as she did. "I'm going into town today, apparently. Want me to pick anything up?" | Basic Information
| Name |
Alistair Ruaraidh Queen
| Date of Birth |
December, 1324
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Landlord – Alistair owns a great deal of property in Edgetoun, and has done for about a century. This passive income, as well as close to seven centuries worth of savings, allows him to spend more time socialising, schmoozing and collecting rare occult texts (the likes of which impoverished student witches can only dream of).
| In-Depth Appearance |
Alistair was changed in his mid-to-late twenties (the uncertainty natural for vampires of his era or older) and as a result has been frozen at such an age for close to seven centuries. While he lived a haggard life and doesn't appear too baby-faced, he does attempt to look older for reasons of respect. Generally he does so by wearing easy business suits, woolen jumpers with checkered shirts underneath; by letting his stubble grow out and furrowing his brows enough so that dark lines form between them; and, of course, the reading glasses that are only present during the day when he's not having fun.
He stands at about 5'9" – tall for his time period of malnutrition and famine and illness but only slightly above-average nowadays in Britain. A lean build betrays an upbringing where food wasn't plentiful, and might also explain the way he abstains from drinking blood for at least a week before chowing down on some poor ICU patient in a hospital. With blonde hair, brown eyes and a jawline to die for, Alistair can definitely be considered ruggedly handsome.
Pale skin doesn't look too unusual in London, and he's more than experienced in smirking in just the right way so as to hide his elongated fangs. Alistair hides the bite scar on his neck from when he was turned with a variety of turtle-necks and scarves, though he does have other ones from his time working for the Collective. Did you know he's been run through with a sword in the very distant past?
Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Aloof ♦ Dreamer ♦ Flirtatious ♦ Self-Deprecating ♦
Alistair has always been ambitious for as long as he can remember. When he was impoverished, illiterate and very likely to die young, he wanted more; when he was making a name for himself in the vampire community, he wanted more; when he was middle-class; when he was rich; when he was a socialite... Nothing ever satisfies him: he's chasing dreams of his youth and can be seen as quite greedy as a result. There is no doubt an aspect to his life goals that is largely hedonistic. When he's charitable (which is quite often, actually) it's more for his sake, to make himself feel good.
He's the first person to admit all of this – he tends not to have a positive view of himself and is actually quite self-aware.
"You miss 100% of every shot you don't take." This is certainly something Alistair lives by, hence his tendency to flirt shamelessly and without reservation and take risks in his private and professional lives. It's also what is prompting him to come out as a vampire to the public, joining the small number providing interviews and information. He is curious, and he does believe the best of humanity for now.
Despite being warm and friendly and on occasion humorous, Alistair hold his cards close to his chest. He likes to know more about other people than they know about him, and is not very forthcoming on answering personal questions without a good reason to do so. He much prefers to change the subject, or question the other person instead. He is a good listener, with a long memory when it counts: he'll remember someone's favourite movie and why he's holding a grudge against them at the same time.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Historical movies and documentaries (the more wrong, the better).
✔ Alcohol. Getting utterly pissed at least two nights a week.
✔ Kids.
✔ Drinking lots of blood – particularly from the terminally ill.
✔ The invention of electricity.
✔ The invention of Tinder.
✔ 1960s culture and film and especially music.
✔ Trashy erotica novels targeted at women and ancient manuscripts, equally.
✘ Dhampires – it's not fair that they die so fast.
✘ Wars. World Wars, supernatural wars, everything to do with conflict.
✘ English bank notes (the Scottish ones look nicer).
✘ Aristocracy, as old habits die hard.
✘ Illness, disease and death of loved ones.
✘ Journalists and the Media, especially with current events.
✘ Similarly, liars.
| History |
If asked, Alistair remembers very little about his human life – the only time when his memory has failed him yet – but in reality he is quite reluctant to talk about it. Born in the 1300s, he was neither rich or middle-class and could instead have been considered the very bottom of the barrel. His mother was a prostitute, suffering from ill-health for most of her life, and thus Alistair was raised communally, left to wander the streets as he liked. He was kicked out at age eight, a year before his mother died, and spent most of the rest of his life as a gutter rat, picking pockets and stealing to live (and for fun).
He would have died from the bubonic plague, something he avoided until the very end of the period it was most virulent in, if it hadn't been for a vampire looking to bolster his forces. His preference for sickly blood arose here, because as a fledgeling, he was allowed only to feed from the very worst people on the way up to the Highlands to fight a war with other vampires. Said war he glosses over, except the fact he ran from it (joining the opposite side, a young Northern Alliance) and was stabbed. Twice.
Alistair stuck around with the northern vampires for a good fifty years, becoming useful to the at-the-time leader and making a bit of a name for himself, but he decided that a life of petty politics and infighting and enforcing the rules of vampirekind wasn't for him, and moved down south to join the Collective... which was more of the same thing. Still, while in London, he learned how to read and write – skills he was long overdue in requiring – and although he left yet another large organisation after only a few decades, he found a home in the sprawling capital.
So, over the centuries he acquired wealth from working in a variety of professions, rarely for more than a few years. At one point he was a diplomat for the King which made it all the easier to hide his aging, especially when he was on the other side of the world. In the 19th century in particular he became something of a well-known figure, generous to supernatural creatures who had found themselves to one of the most powerful countries in the world and calmer than he had been in years previous. He worked as a teacher for a while in a non-public school, acquired land in Edgetoun (before it was a London borough) and spent most of the rest of his money.
20th and 21st century, other than siring a few dhampire children by accident, has been spent collecting old relics of the past – of his past – and magical textbooks. When the Other were revealled recently, he had to deal with his daughter (who shares the same surname as him) coming out as a dhampire and explaining what it means to be one on live television as well as rehouse a few of his tenants for privacy reasons.
| Family |
Louis Queen, 35 – Son, a dhampire who lives on the other side of London that Alistair sees infrequently. Seems to have distanced himself as much as is possible from the whole supernatural dealings, although strained phone calls have revealed that health issues related to his half-breed status are finally catching up to him.
Lorna Queen, 16 – Daughter, another dhampire who lives with her mother, a prominent journalist for the BBC. Alistair still has visitation rights, which he tries his best to make use of in his spare time. His daughter was interviewed as a part of the initial outbreak of moral panic at the reveal.
Otherwise, he has two ex-girlfriends, both amazingly still alive thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, and in the past has had quite a few more children, all of which died before their time due to the perils of being a dhampire.
| Strengths |
Well-read and knowledgeable of the history of the supernatural (especially vampires).
Tries his best to stay connected to the occult population of Edgetoun, and London as a whole.
A long history of enforcing the rules of the Collective on unruly and unforgivable vampires.
| Weaknesses |
Pacifistic – refuses to admit that sometimes there are situations that words can't get you out of.
Even though he collects them, he doesn't like to call in favours or accept any help whatsoever. Does everything solo.
Likes humanity, if in a bit of a condescending way, and can't conscience doing wrong by them.
Other
| Theme Song |
Winter Sound – Of Monsters and Men
”Stop, you're cold against the skin
Take me in your arms when walls are closing in
And I run, I run, I run, awakening my heart
But you overwhelm my lungs and it's tearing me a-part.”
| House Number |
19 Avalon Point – A large-ish house with a sizable back garden that he moved into eight years ago or so. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and one of the bedrooms he tends to rent out to a supernatural in need.
| Extra Information |
Speaks and understand several languages (French, Gàidhlig, German, Japanese) but can only read and write in English.
Blake Preston
"I own the house she rents. It feels a wee bit unethical to watch her YouTube videos."
Alistair didn't even know earning a living with homemade videos was even possible before he met his tenant, unless one was in a certain industry (Nikita, please). While Blake skipped on rent a few times, paid it late on others, he always let it slide easily and without further reproach – something a lot of landlords might not have done. Maybe it was because he had a soft-spot for go-getting entrepreneurs or maybe it was for a pretty face; who knows?
Daniel Belson
"Do you think if I recite the Lord's Prayer he'll sneeze? 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name...'"
You can take a boy out of the church but you can't quite shake the catechism from his blood. Alistair doesn't consider himself to be rather Christian, or really religious at all, really, but he hides behind the debt he owes to the church itself for keeping him alive and from the clutches of starvation so he could reach an age to die of the plague. Demons like Daniel make him feel uneasy, perhaps because they bring with them reminders that he was taught to avoid sin and vices – and, as a poor child with not a penny to his name, especially envy.
Mariska Costas
"Believe it or not, sometimes I like to live life like the upper class. Listening to jazz is part and parcel of that, isn't it?"
Generally, Alistair likes to know what everyone around him is, supernatural-wise. He can pick out a normal human from a distance, mostly based on how nice their blood is, but sometimes there's tricky ones like Mariska. He's certain she's not a vampire, but that's all he knows, other than that he heard her first when she was making her debut in lounges in the 1930s. One day, he tells himself, he'll chase her up to find out what she actually his. 'Curiosity killed the cat,' is a warning that stays forever in his mind.
Nikita Yankovsky
"So, Nikita is a policewoman now. At least if it doesn't work out she has a new uniform to use in her 'day job'. Authentic."
Alistair likes Nikita, in a completely unromantic way. Friend, friend with benefits – what's the difference? There never used to be one in the 19th century, or at least not in his social group. There is some hope that his own position as a supernatural pariah (when it inevitably comes out into the open like airing a dusty cupboard) doesn't affect hers. She seems to be doing quite well for herself, for a demon. It might seem shallow, but he considers that the only reason they wouldn't work out. Alistair is well-aware that he is apprehensive as fuck around demons.
Mordred Hame
"I might have liked his music when I was an angsty thirteen year old with nothing to live for. Now that I mention it..."
If asked, Alistair will say that it is greatest shame that he once listened to Mordred Hame's music. It's not bad, objectively, but it's not his "scene", his "jam" or whatever it is the kids are calling it these days. That they play it in those alternative clothing stores that he just so happened to be in to buy a cute backpack for Megumi was enough of a dose for him. Small quantities of this music only, please, as it should be. On a more serious note, he worries that it's going to give bad preconceptions to the supernatural community.
John Taylor
"What the fuck is he..?"
Okay, so nobody ever said that Alistair wasn't a drama queen, but the point still stands. John is one of his tenants (Faraday Heights, 28A if he remembers correctly) and... somewhat human? But not edible? But disgusting for no apparent reason? Alistair trusts his senses for the most part: they let him know if someone close to him has a terminal illness; they let him know when there's a meal to be had in the area and not the home-cooked kind, but they simply don't function as they should around John – not if he's a normal human. Which he can't be. He can't be.
Eve Lumière
"Now there's a lust demon if ever I saw one. Rooming with Blake Preston. Not going to think too hard on that one."
Eve's an ironic name for a demon, isn't it? That was the first thing he noticed when he met her, because obviously he had experience enough with Nikita to know one almost by sight. The bar she works in isn't the best – I should know, I own the building – but usually when I drop by I'm tipsy enough so as not to complain. I like her, but she's French. That's just begging the question, even if half-hearted: 'Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?"
Opallum
"He's not human, is he? It's a shame, but even some of our own fall through the cracks."
Alistair is naturally curious: is it an addiction problem? Is it a matter of pride? Is it incompatibility with the modern world moving on from whenever the guy – the Other – was born? He could help with any of that, just like he always slips a tenner into a cup when he sees a homeless person begging on the streets. Soft-hearted? No, not really, but he knew what it was like in a time before warm jackets and a good chance of a warm meal everyday. He can sympathise.
Andrew Mordekai
"I swear to God – or whatever ones he worships – if that activist group turns sour. I'm done with London."
Alistair has seen enough peaceful protests in his life go sour that he has a natural distrust for activist groups. While hearing that one wants to represent him is heart-warming really, from what he's seen of the witch (always from afar) and heard of from a friend in the magical circles, someone who's an elemental mage with a talent for fire of all things shouldn't be the leader. Volatile, very volatile. He'll be watching that movement, and a small part of him is expecting arson from it.
Suriel White
"Dr. White, we have a problem! There's a patient going into cardiac arrest in Ward 3. Cause of death: exsanguination by my hand."
Alistair is deeply, deeply sorry for his loss of control. The event happened almost two years ago, an inability to control his bloodlust after a long period of abstinence, and it was a coma patient who suffered – their family losing out on having their last moments with them. He remembers very little for that night, having slipped behind a curtain with a bunch of flowers to pretend he was in the area to visit another patient shortly after his accident to watch the affair, and Dr. White was one of them. Not human. He hopes the good doctor didn't see him then.
Miles Catrose
"I cut my own hair because I'm thrifty – is this guy a good alternative? Anybody know?"
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Yukiko Abe
"I know she's not as young as she looks, but how old? It gets hard to tell after a certain point, usually when you stop counting birthdays.."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Mona
"Dead. Young, too, by the looks of it. Just a kid."
Alistair believes in ghosts. He sees her wandering around every so often, and he rents out the flat to Felix Underwood, so he knows of this Mona's prolonged existence. A part of him is morbidly curious around ghosts. When you've lived as long as he has, questions of the after-afterlife begin to pop up, because technically (by church standards) Alistair is already dead. Will he end up like her after somebody shanks him? Probably not – his life is fulfilling enough and he's certain he won't leave anything behind as a vampire anyway. He wonders what Mona's unresolved issue is.
Faron Romane
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Nicolas Black
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Megumi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Katharine Haynes
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Elise Callaghan
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Claire O'Malley
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Ethan Cooper
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Alfie Liau
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Michael Harel
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Emerson Maddox
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Talia Halbrook
"What your character will say out loud about them."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Loki Van Stenberg
"I'm just waiting for the day the police show up at my door asking me where he is, and I have to lie and say I'm not hiding him."
Alistair is a pacifist: he prefers words to actions, diplomacy to force, socialism, freedom of speech but not the freedom to harm others... But he hasn't always been like that. Loki's a "tad" older than him, most likely smarter than him, and for the longest time, Alistair was a little starstruck – especially shortly after their first meeting many centuries ago. Ambition ran in his blood back then, and he always did learn by rote, or mimicry. For a time, Alistair copied Loki, became just as violent as him; twice as bloody.
He grew out of that when he learned to read, properly, and broke free enough to start making a name for himself in different fields. Alistair is a firm believer that despite his disinterest in bloodshed and violence, and his hope that the worlds of the supernatural and humanity will one day merge, he is not incompatible with his once best friend, with whom he had the foolish, almost childish belief of taking on the world. After all, Alistair is nothing if not dedicated, and no matter how much he dislikes killing, he would for Loki. That's what best mates are for.
That, and banter.
Aiden Phillips
"I turned him. I always did have a thing for blondes."
Write what they actually think about this character here. |
1,023 | 14 | 38 | 0 | 94 | Katie Haynes
Location: Faraday Heights
Interacting With: Andy , Claire
Katie playfully stuck her tongue out at Andy before taking a sip of her coffee. She dropped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster as she listened to Claire outlining the news. Oh boy, a murder, and something about the Unseelie. She'd heard a little about the Unseelie Fae, but not much, she decided that she'd do some research on them later. Might as well find out who they were, she wondered if it had anything to do with the unusual weather outside, seeing as how they usually didn't get this much snow, but she figured it could also be just a freak weather thing. In any case, she didn't want to assume things, especially not with the Others. Too many people did too much assuming about them.
She was so deep in thought that she jumped when the toast popped out of the toaster. She plopped the pieces of toast down on two of the plates before putting another slice of bread in the toaster. She took Claire's silence on the matter to mean that she did want toast. She pondered whether there was anything she needed from the store for a moment.
"I don't think I need anything, but thanks anyway!" Katie smiled gratefully as she took the last piece of toast from the toaster and put it on the last plate before gulping down about half of her coffee, she drank things she liked quickly anyway, and it had finally cooled off enough that she could do so.
"Hopefully people will come to their senses soon. It's not like Others being around is anything new, only our knowledge of it is." She added as she sat down and began to butter a piece of toast.
Talia Halbrook
Location: Nearing the Early Bean
Interacting With: No one yet.
It was going to be a long day. Despite the weather, some of Talia's clients still wanted to meet to go over housing prices, and she couldn't refuse since she had these appointments scheduled a couple of weeks in advance. Damn those Unseelie Fae! Damn them to-... well she certainly didn't want to see them there either. Maybe they should just all go to heaven and annoy the holier-than-thou angels, it would serve them right. A small smile crossed her lips as she imagined angels and Fae arguing over the most trivial matters. Anyway, in order to handle the weather and her clients, she needed some coffee, and possibly a bit of mischief.
The Early Bean was the perfect place for this. It was small enough where any disturbance would be noticed, but popular enough where anything could happen. Maybe she'd get to start a fight, that would be a good excuse to back out of one or two of her four appointments that day. Even just a heated argument would be enjoyable at this point, or someone being discontent with their coffee, she was incredibly bored. She hadn't been able to find anything new to do in such a long time. Lately she'd begun to share a house with someone, it left her more money to do other things she wanted, even though she had plenty and nothing to do with some of it. But this wasn't much of an exciting venture as much as her running out of things to do and deciding that having a roommate was worth trying.
She turned on the radio as she neared the Early Bean. She should have been there a good fifteen minutes ago, but the weather was not helping traffic, and quite a few cars had spun out on the side of the road. It was pleasant to watch the distraught faces of those on the side of the road, but Talia was still bored! As she finally pulled into the coffee shop parking lot, she hoped that something, anything interesting would happen. Then she grabbed her purse, stepped outside into the bitter wind, locked her car and headed through the doors, into the warmth and the smell of heated coffee beans. | Katherine Haynes
Human
Basic Information
| Name |
Katherine “Katie” Annalise Haynes
| Date of Birth |
November 13, 1998
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Part-time barista at a small coffee shop, The Early Bean. Full-time college student.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Katie is only slightly taller than average, but the way she carries herself makes her seem taller and her presence demands attention. She faces life with her head held high and her shoulders back, seemingly ready for whatever life throws at her. Her voice adds to this effect; it is calm but firm, sweet but knowing.
Her face has a certain maturity to it that is often absent in others her age. She has striking light green eyes which can seem a bit gray or even occasionally blue, depending on the colors she’s wearing. Katie has thick, wavy, brown hair with natural reddish highlights. Her pale skin is covered with light freckles, which give her a sort of ageless look, as if she could be older or younger than what her real age is.
The part of her appearance that she is most proud of, however, is the one part she had the most choice in. Katie has a full-back tattoo of large wings. While this tattoo is generally covered up, it gives her a sense of confidence in some strange way.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Open-minded ♦ Loyal ♦ Kind ♦ Confident ♦
Katie is the kind of person who likes to speak her mind. She likes to think carefully about what she’s saying and makes an effort to truly listen to others instead of just trying to think of a retort when discussing clashing opinions with others. She does not hide her opinions from anyone, even if she knows that a person who is close to her will likely disagree. However, she will do her best to explain her point in the most inoffensive way possible. It is her opinion that hiding one’s true feelings is unhealthy for both the person doing it and the people they’re hiding from.
She doesn’t have a lot of friends, she prefers to grow close to only a few individuals, but she has acquired quite a few friendly acquaintances. Katie loves to meet new people and is friendly and polite to anyone she meets, as long as they aren’t straight-out assholes. She believes that respect is earned, and anyone who treats other people as less than themselves does not deserve the time of day. Her reaction towards such people is worsened if they treat her friends badly.
Even though she is generally confident in her choices and opinions, she does her best to keep from becoming arrogant. She truly has a desire to learn and will accept that she is wrong when she really is. She loves to debate, but her goal is not to win these debates, but rather to determine what the truth is. She is a straight-A student who pushes herself to go above and beyond the expectations set before her.
The recent discovery of the Others worries Katie, naturally. She has no idea what the extent of their abilities is, but it also excites her. The knowledge that there is so much more out there than she previously thought makes her wonder about the endless possibilities. While she is war of the idea of strange creatures whose abilities are shrouded in myth and legend, she also hopes that humans and Others can learn to co-exist. She realizes that not all of what is said of them can be true, and that they’ve managed to live hidden among humans for centuries, so at least some of them must be somewhat peaceful.
Although most of the time, she is a well put-together individual, Katie is recovering from general anxiety disorder and other issues caused by past trauma. It is not entirely uncommon for her to relapse into this state, causing her to become temporarily terrified of social settings and confrontation. Aside from this, she is also prone to depression and will sometimes go into full hermit-mode; shutting herself in her bedroom for days on end, emerging only to eat. She eventually makes it past these moments, but she will be much more reserved and cautious after such an incident. Sometimes these events are triggered by specific stimuli, but most of the time the reason for her relapses remain unknown.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Rainy Days
✔ Friendly people
✔ Snow
✔ Reading
✔ Drawing
✔ Wild adventures
✔ Debates
✔ Kittens
✔ Calm music
✔ Swimming
✔ Painting
✔ Singing
✘ Assholes
✘ Snakes
✘ Spiders
✘ Bugs
✘ Anxiety
✘ Mouth germs
✘ The color yellow
| History |
Katie was a fairly normal child in her younger years. She had loving parents, and one older sister with whom she was very close. When she was six, her family moved to the United States. While her family took a while to adjust, Katie immediately loved it. She went to school for the first time and made lots of new friends, it was exciting and a new adventure to her. Even as a young child, she loved doing new things and going to new places. However, a few years later, disaster struck.
When she was twelve, Katie and her family were on their way to a play at her school when they were hit by a drunk driver. It drove straight into the driver’s side of the car, instantly killing her father and fatally injuring her sister. Katie and her mother survived with several broken bones between the two of them, her sister died about 3 hours after the crash from severe blood loss.
As soon as they were able to travel, Katie’s mother moved them back to London for the support of their family. The move back was difficult for the young girl. She had spent half of her life in America and didn’t remember the majority of her relatives. She was also depressed because of the death of her father and sister, which made her want to be alone, but she was constantly forced into conversations with concerned aunts, uncles, cousins, and so forth. This made it insanely difficult for her to adjust. She became increasingly antisocial as she was forced to interact with more and more people she didn’t know.
As if things weren’t bad enough, her mother decided to get remarried just a little over a year after the accident. Katie and her stepfather didn’t get along at all, and it wasn’t her fault either. She tried to accept him, even though she still wasn’t over the death of her father, but he was abrasive and arrogant. He constantly criticized her, and made homophobic remarks the first time she brought a girlfriend home with her. He was an all-around asshole, and Katie’s mother just wouldn’t listen to her when she complained. Her mother was blind to his faults, she only saw what she wanted to see and believed what she wanted to believe about him. This further hindered Katie’s grieving process.
She developed all new problems as a result of her stepfather’s emotionally abusive behavior. Eventually it got out of hand enough that her mother took notice and got her into therapy. The therapy helped quite a bit, but the biggest improvement was when she moved out at the age of eighteen and went to live with one of her aunts. She soon moved to Faraday Heights for a shorter commute to college. Since then, she has mostly become the person she wants to be, although she has relapses more often than she would like to admit.
| Family |
William Haynes, Father (deceased)
Lillian Gathesford, Mother
Thomas Gathesford, Stepfather
Sarah Haynes, Sister (deceased)
| Strengths |
Confident
Persuasive
Amiable
| Weaknesses |
Random bouts of anxiety
Secret insecurities
Often suffers from mild carpal tunnel syndrome
Not very physically strong
Becomes very stubborn and blunt when depressed or anxious
Prone to bouts of depression
The Other
| Theme Song |
Drop - Ludovico Einaudi
| House Number |
Faraday Heights 27B |
1,024 | 14 | 39 | 969 | 1,093 | Location: Faraday; Flat 26B; Cat stretching into a new day
Interacting With: Aila ; Ethan
"Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless, dearest the shadows I live with are numberless. Little white flowers will never awaken you"
Billie's sweet words crooned in the static of the radio, edging the somber silence settled in the living room. Anna Ross—No, that's not right anymore. Anna Cooper sat on the opposite end of their ratty couch, a glass of gin in her hand and her legs tucked under her, hidden in sea green fabric. Her eyelids sat closed, soft in the yellow light hazing the room, and her voice came out in a hum that vibrated her throat. A light tinge of pink peaked from under her blush and a softer smile pursed her lips.
The comfortable quiet hanging in smoke clouds above them belied the situation none too well - why their hands filled with hard liquor. Daniel had been lucky enough to be stationed somewhere just outside of London, and even luckier to be stationed with Anna's newly wed husband. Why she wasn't with him, he couldn't... he didn't allow himself to decipher. He sat his hat on the coffee table in front of them and stood, a deep breath leaving in a shaky hiss. Anna looked up to meet his eyes.
"It's not as bad as it looks," she whispered, soft under the haunting voice of Billie Holiday. Daniel furrowed his brow and knelt down to see the bruise covering Anna's right eye; how hadn't he caught that? "It's really not that bad, Danny."
"The hell it isn't," he growled and stood in a stomp toward the fridge, "you don't understand. You're not a fucking MMA fighter, Ethan; you pick fights with these assholes and I can't be there all the damn time."
Ethan.
Daniel stopped, a pack of peas in his hand and turned around with a furrow in his brow. The boy in question stood now, petulant expression and his arms crossed over his chest. "They called you a goth fairy," Ethan's jaw clenched and he could see the smooth muscles of his face shift and flinch at the pain it caused him, "they egged your car. They were planning on jumping you after cla—"
"So you thought it was wise to take that beating for me?" Daniel cut him off, slamming the peas down on the table - it didn't quite make the noise he was going for.
"That's not... you don't understand—"
"Enlighten me."
"That's not. Daniel, stop patronizing me. I knew what I was doing when I approached them. I'd do it again. And again. And again. Don't give me that look. I'm not taking another lecture from you, when you're no fucking better"
Breathe deep. One. Two. Three.
Second time that's happened in a week. Daniel pushed the heel of his palms into his eyes and let out a hissing yawn while he stretched. Cool air hit exposed skin, raising goosebumps along the flesh of his shoulder and arms and down his collarbones in a shiver. Another yawn racked his body as Daniel switched to lay on his stomach, feeling the long, deep, warming rush of blood running through to his toes and fingers and the deep pull of his muscles. His back cracked and his neck popped before he deemed himself moderately ready to dress and face the day.
He didn't - he wouldn't dwell on his dreams again. They didn't keep him up at night, which he took as a blessing (ironic) and they didn't exactly leave him hot and bothered and unable to look at his perfect, male specimen of a roommate in the eyes. Aila would catch that in a heartbeat, either chortle her way through the house or shoot him pitying looks. Daniel couldn't take either.
Scrunching on a sweater (jumper, they called it here), Daniel shuffled into the cold, hard wood floor of their living room-kitchen-dining room combo, saw Aila curled in on herself in the corner of the couch and immediately knew this wasn't a good day for anyone. He reached over the back to give the girl a peck on the head and snatch the remote from inside one of the seat cushions, turned on the news and smiled at the coffee laid out for him and Ethan. He wouldn't be at work today, at least not unless they called him in, which left him ample time to do... well, nothing. Probably why they liked to call him a cat; he took naps wherever he pleased, on top of whatever he pleased.
Taking a deep inhale of his coffee, Daniel immediately knew he'd need a few more. The snow raging outside meant he couldn't get in a smoke even if he could bare the frozen wasteland. It wasn't the 40s anymore and he'd likely get some kind of stern look from Ethan if he lit up inside. Aila wouldn't say anything, but Daniel wouldn't take the chance of making her uncomfortable, especially not looking like that.
"You eat, yet, Buttercup?" he called from his place on the kitchen's island, scooping his coffee up to plop down beside her. He didn't know if she needed space or not, so he kept close enough for comfort, but for enough away for... well.. comfort. His eyes roamed over her features, which didn't tell him much, but her stiff, shrunken posture hinted at some kind of discomfort. He wouldn't pry, that wasn't his job - he's not her therapist. "I'm sure I can snatch a few eggs before Ethan eats everything we'd stocked up on." | “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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| Family |
Dana King -
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 ”
| 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.) |
1,025 | 14 | 40 | 709 | 301 | Andrew Mordekai
Location: Faraday Heights 27B
Interacting With: Katie and Claire
Thanking both Katie and Claire for their contributions, Andrew began hastily eating his eggs with surprising speed. He hadn't even done any actually exhausting spells lately, just some Alchemic practice the night before, as prescribed by a Circle advisor. His skills in transmutation were slowly growing, though he still had some issues with the geomantic array to properly channel the energy. Andy's natural Fire came so simply, with a runic channel and a small incantation when needed, that such complex formulae and reagents were challenging. It left him with quite an appetite in the mornings.
Well, that, and he was sure a shit storm of folks was waiting for them at the shop. With all that had happened, plus the weather, it was going to be another packed day. The tips would be nice, though; Folks seemed to love his barista skills, and if he liked the folks he'd even do some fancy latte art with the milk pour. Skills paid the bills, after all.
Andrew did get a sort of annoyed twitch when Claire called the normal folks "naturals"...as if they weren't? Fuck, they were one step from human as it was and Witches were still getting shit. The Others were just as natural as humans...but he didn't say anything about it. She had good intentions, and he couldn't fault her for that. "I'm good, love. Be careful out there, though. Ya know how folks get with a storm."
s Katie, however, seemed to get it. "Right?" He said through a mouthful of toast, "It's like treating the culture of someone you just met like it never existed before you laid eyes on it. It's an adjustment, sure...but murders? On both sides? We don't even have the full fucking story." Andrew's runes were smoldering again. He shook his head, clearing the building fog. "Sorry...you ready Katie? Place's gonna be a nuthouse by the time we get there." The young Witch asked, putting his plate in the sink.
Liam Woodsworth
Location: Churchhill Gardens 5B -> Downtown Edgetoun
Interacting With: No one yet
Whoever invented that awful alarm clock noise can go royally fuck themselves.
It was already well into the morning, and after hitting snooze three times, the electronic caterwauling had finally broken Liam's stupor. "Oh, for fuck's sake," He groaned as he rolled out from under his heap of messy covers to give the clock a good smack. Reluctantly, Liam stood, stepping in piles of clothes from God knows how long ago and other random bits scattered around the dark, mediocre apartment. With all the blinds shuttered, only the lights from his idling computer, clock, and Squeaks's heat lamp filled the apartment, the lizard crawling out of his rock habitat once he noticed movement. "Mornin', Squeakerooni. Got anything today?" He inquired, leaning down to let the hot light illuminate his gaunt features. The lizard simply cocked its head in reply.
"Figures. Ya quiet little man." Liam groggily stumbled over to the fridge. It was fairly sparse...save for the two or three bags of blood, random liquors, and the smattering of food that he had no idea was good or not. Sighing, he grabbed one of the crimsom pouches and moved to the small kitchenette. Opening the cabinet above the sink revealed...well, most of Liam's life. Pipes, bottles, needles...the only somewhat official looking one, labeled "Sanguinol" label-maker style, was what he was after, along with a scarlet stained shot glass. With a grimace he filled the shot with blood, knocking back two small white pills with it. He slammed the table with force, fighting down disgust. "Fuck that's nasty. The fuck did I grab?"hrrggg. to check the news. Internet was all he bothered to pay for, now that it handled everything phone and television could do in-home. Instantly, there was little good on the front page.
"Murders and petitions. Fuck me." The Dhampire sighed, a thin hand coming up to hold his bedhead back. The Unseelie he didn't care about, and he rather liked the cold, so it wasn't too big a deal. But you can't just get rid of everyone like that...can you? He'd be lumped in that for sure, and the vamps and wolves would rip him apart just out of anger. Maybe heading out today was a bad idea?
Nah...not as bad as any other. You couldn't really tell he was a Dhampire...if you didn't look hard enough...or heard rumors...or if anyone wasn't even mildly observant. Still...he wanted to grab some stuff for a new track that still sat open from the night before. He wanted some older samples to work with...and groceries were probably a necessity.
A pair of randomly selected denim jeans, utterly unfit for winter, and a hastily procured hoodie had him out in the cold right quick, making his way up town. Hood up, face down, and hopefully out of eyesight of anyone with sharp things and radical notions. They could kill him after he got this shit on Youtube. | Liam Woodsworth
Dhampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Elliot Liam Woodsworth
He prefers the informality of Liam
| Date of Birth |
October 19, 1992
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Liam works as an IT assistant at a local tech shop, mixes music as a hobby, and volunteers at a blood bank for his less savory needs. Yes, the last one is morally dubious, but he’s not going to be around long enough to actually care, now will he? On the music note, he tends to whip up tracks with heavy bass and high tempos, as he finds them euphoric...almost as euphoric as the recreational drugs that may eventually overtake his work ethic.
| In-Depth Appearance |
”That poor boy...darling, do you eat?
”Damn my boy, have you seen a doctor? Pale as a ghost, ya are.”
Sickly. Liam is sickly. He is tall, gaunt, pale...and he isn’t even fucking sick most of the time. He blames it on his lineage, daddy was an awfully stereotypical bloodsucker. Maybe it’s the rapidly degenerating body? Maybe it’s his refusal to indulge his hemo-cravings until absolutely necessary? He doesn’t care, really. Liam’s got places to be, stunts to do, and a short life to live. This is apparent in his messy medium-long brown hair, disheveled fashion of band shirts and loose ripped denim, and a general air of “I really don’t give a fuck, come not give a fuck with me”. His brown eyes speak of a troubled past and a carefree future, of resignation and of the triumphant freedom in that revelation. Liam’s voice is soft, enticing, as though it itself realized the throat it was bound to was horribly unfitting and made a show to be better. To be a selling point.
When you’re a local pariah, ya have to have something going for ya, right?
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Morbid ♦ Relaxed ♦ Indulgent ♦ Welcoming ♦
There is a comfort in knowing death is coming.
You become prepared. You enjoy every moment, every pain, every sensation that smolders on the neurons. Liam has accepted this, and he relishes it. It’s relaxing, and he exudes this calm repose around him. Those that aren’t aware of his supernatural bastard status are always laid back around him, if not worried by his random pains and sickly pallor. Those that are...well, he’s not obnoxious enough to warrant a lynch mob yet. But who knows what’ll come in the future... sure would save him pill money.
Pill money that could go towards more fun pills! Since he knows his time is short, Liam takes every chance he gets to explore the unsavory and wonderful of the world. Drugs, alcohol with dubious origins and long names, ancient rituals that cause really weird spirit trips, (he had to give a “favor” to a Witch for that one but damn was it worth it. Ever see ancient cosmic deities play limbo with a meteor belt? Liam has.), are all things he has and is willing to try. Dangerous stunts are also kinda fun, when the crippling pains aren’t hitting hard. There are no limits to what he’ll try. Of course it’s dangerous, sometimes deadly. Sometimes it’s kind of like daring Death to make its move.
Sadly, this applies to people too. He blazes through relationships and sex like it’s nothing but a carnal transaction. Maybe one day he’ll find someone that quences his cravings. Likely? Liam doesn’t think so.
But in all respects, Liam wants friends. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants stories passed around about him after he moves on from Edgetoun. Stories about that crazy ass pale kid that did a somersault off a building after three lines of coke and a tab of acid, lived, and then ran a 500. Okay...that’s excessive and he’d probably be dead after the first part of that, but...the point is there. As such, he doesn’t want to hurt people either. The option to get that street shit from dealers was a tempting one, but that blood could come from anyone. Anything. Through...less than fun means. At least at the blood donor center, that was willingly given. No violence or pain, even if it’s stealing...he tries to take what’s in abundance, none of the important rare shit. He doesn’t deserve that.
In the end, when you have a very short time to experience life, you shouldn’t waste that life on brooding and sorrow. Get out there, live...no matter what everyone says. No matter if you’re the monster they say you are.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Electronic music No words. No hidden meanings. Just raw emotion. It’s delightfully primal.
✔Adrenaline rushes Ya know when you’re on a coaster and your balls just go right up in your stomach? Yeah. That’s what I like.
✔New things So much to do, so much to see, so much to- Alright, I’ll stop. Sorry.
✔Fall England’s nice in the fall. Cloudy, damp...it’s comforting.
✔A good adventure graphic novel The art, man! Plus, less words, faster reading, meaning more awesome shit for me.
✔Jaffa cakes Tiny. Portable. Orangey. They are my one true love.
✔So many drugs. Specifically acid and coke, and any eldritch shit he can get. Oh the places you will go…
✘Staying home As much as I’d like it to, my mix board doesn’t usually talk to me. Usually.
✘Those who waste what they have Almost everyone has so much left to live. So much to give to society. Why the fuck would you throw that away?
✘Sulky folks Aw, cheer up mate. Wanna grab ice cream? Fucking love ice cream.
✘Violence Come on. Talk your shit out. You start busting heads, I’ll split you the fuck up. Got it?
✘Salad. Or anything vaguely green. It's crispy fucking water. That's gross.
✘Sunny weather. Fuck you, dad.
✘Dependency. I'm a strong, independent abomination. Well...less strong, more independent. Ya get me, yeah?
| History |
The fall brought with it cool air, warm homes, a time for families to come together…
And produce an awful bastardization of life.
Liam came into the world a screamer. Like he already knew, day one out of the womb, that he was already on his way out. He got all of his screaming out then.
Born to a middle class mother and a bloodsucking poppa that bolted the minute he knew one of his dark little swimmers hit home. Yeah, typical daddy issues, blah blah...Liam never really cared much past passive aggressive comments and normal annoyances. His mother Trisha lived with her parents then, the three of them taking care of this sad, ill child. It was rough, and they never really understood what he was. The father had the eventual courtesy, about five years in, to inform poor Trisha about what exactly she’d brought into the world. She didn’t believe the fucker, of course.
Until Liam really started liking raw meat.
Not the meat itself, but the leftover blood in the package. Terrified, confused, and just feeling awful all around, she had to reorganize her life and her idea of parenting to fit this child. She packed up and they moved to the countryside.
And so began the “Don’t Bite” motto of life. Liam learned not to hurt folks to stop his own pain, to enjoy what he had...like a mother that didn’t try and kill him with a stake. She cared more to give her son what he needed...blood. Her blood. Just enough to keep him sated. Liam learned respect, caring, and restraint, qualities sometimes not found in his full-blooded kin.
There was a rough spot in secondary school when Liam learned that he wasn’t going to live a long, happy life. The pain was a sign. The slightly quick growth, another. And once he ran into a couple vampires that were flying under the radar, they made him understand how low he was. That he was a mistake. Suddenly, parties became enticing, every new drink and drug an experience worth dying for. Trisha had to go through hoops to keep doctors from drawing his blood, let alone run any drug tests on him. Their relationship was strained around then, and once Liam graduated he left for London to cool down and mature.
Fast-forward, and Liam’s working a menial job to make ends meet in Edgetoun. IT work fit him, since he spent a large portion of his teens messing with electronic instruments and computers his few friends had. Plus, lots of people needed help with their newfangled gadgets and gizmos, and he was happy to help and talk to them. Recently, he’s back in touch with his mother and patching things up...while not telling her about all the crazy shit he does for fun. No need to worry her.
But how can she not be worried when her pariah of a son is on the ass end of a bloody race war?
| Family |
Trisha Woodsworth | Mother : A kind, gentle woman, with a fair bit of paranoia. You get that when your kid’s kind of on the chopping block.
| Strengths |
Incredibly open-minded
Curious
Protective
| Weaknesses |
No real restraint
Locked to his path, sees no other future; “Blinders” on
Lacks any sort of commitment
The Other
| Theme Song |
Marry The Night – Lady Gaga
”I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen
Live passionately tonight”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens 5B
| Extra Information |
Liam has a lizard named Squeaks. That fucker knows shit. |
1,026 | 14 | 41 | 2,173 | 2,274 | Loki
Location: 36 Avalon Point
Interacting With: Charles
Loki woke when the sunbeam coming through the sheer curtains rotated to rest on his face. With a discomforted grunt, he pulled his arm out from behind his head. It felt like someone had sent his body through a meat grinder. ”What the hell did I do last night…” he thought to himself as he attempted to wipe the sleep from his heavy eyelids.
A few blinks adjusted his eyesight enough to take in his surroundings. This wasn’t his bedroom. No, but at least it was his house this time. He was wearing nothing but his pants on the living room couch, where he had apparently slept all night. Loki could taste dried blood on the corner of his mouth… he must have gotten the munchies and had a midnight snack.
Sitting up caused a pair of lacey knickers to tumble from his bare chest to his lap. Loki plucked them up with a thumb and forefinger to inspect them. Things were starting to piece together in his foggy mind. He looked around for the bird who was surely missing these right about now.
Laying on the floor beside the couch, more than half naked, there she was. Loki raised an eyebrow at the ginger girl as he stood up. She wasn’t moving. “Well, damn…” he murmured and nudged her face with his toes in an attempt to rouse her. Still no movement. Another one bites the dust…
“Charles!” Loki called out. “Don’t I pay you enough to take out the rubbish?”
At that, the dead redhead no longer held his attention. He wasn’t sure what day it was, but he was certain that he was probably almost late for something important, and he had to get ready for it.
“She’s not dead, sir. Just… inebriated still, I suppose.” The butler replied from the kitchen that Loki was on his way to. Charles already had a glass of blood prepared for him along with serving of delicious looking fruit salad. Loki forked up a few pieces of fruit and then downed the scarlet refreshment.
“Oh, well, see to it that she is taken care of then. I have to wash up.” Loki remarked between bites.
“Of course, sir. You have a meeting with Mr. Richardson in one hour.” Charles offered the reminder without even having to be prompted. He was just that good.
Being a neat person that doesn’t eat all that much, it could be argued that Loki doesn’t really need a butler. An he doesn’t… Truth be told, it was far too melancholic living in an 8 bedroom, 5 bath home by oneself. Charles was just as much a friend as he was an employee. And, as it turns out, quite the useful one!
“Right, that would make it Thursday. Thank you, Charles, you are a gift!” He said with sincere dramatics before taking his leave to brush his teeth and shower last night’s sweat and sin away. If only the hangover headache could be so easy to get rid of... | Loki
Vampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Loki Van Stenberg
The former name he was born with, kind of, the latter was chosen most recently because he liked the dramatic flair. He moves around a lot, mostly keeping to Europe, and changes his name with every move.
Aliases/Nicknames include: Low Key, Kingpin, and the Trickster
| Date of Birth |
Born to a Vikingar couple in the Summer of 830, give or take a few decades. His most current falsified documentation lists July 13th, 1992, though.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Primarily heterosexual, though living as long as he has, he’s dabbled elsewhere to spice things up.
| Occupation |
Legal Profession? He is a Senior Chemist at the research lab in Redbridge, earned a bonafide PhD and everything! He has a passion for the sciences. Having a well-paying job like this makes for a good cover on how he really got the fancy cars and mansion up on Avalon Point.
Real Profession? Loki runs the London underground. Narcotics, hallucinogens, uppers, downers, you name it! If it exists, Low Key has a man running the stuff on the streets. And the Kingpin doesn’t just cater to the humans, hell no, he’s got the stuff to get the Sups just as fucked up. He has just plain ol’ blood too, for those too morally weak to do their own hunting, but willing enough to look the other way on how said blood was obtained in the first place. Loki’s real pride and joy, though, is O-neg. Being a vampire scientist with unlimited access to state-of-the-art laboratory equipment, Loki figured out a way to genetically and chemically alter human blood so that it gives vampires the effect of being high - a previously unattainable state for vampires, aside from the very mild effects one could gain from tainted blood. Pressed into tiny red tablets emblazoned with an ‘O’, O-neg does different things for different vamps; For some it feels like ecstasy, some just pot, and some experience hallucinations like with acid. O-neg could take you all the way up to the clouds, and then promptly let you crash through the floorboards. It’s the real deal, and when you’re working with vampire lifespans and immunities, what the hell else do you have to do with your time? Come on, you know you want to try it...
| In-Depth Appearance |
Devilishly handsome, is that enough? No? Okay then. With soulful blue eyes and a tidy crop of chestnut curls, one might almost be convinced that Loki is innocent. But that ever present five o’clock shadow and crooked smirk betray that he is up to absolutely no good, just like the god he was named for. He stands at 5’11” with a toned and muscular build, but not overly so.
Appearances are of utmost importance to the viking - old habits die hard, I guess - and as such, he is hardly ever seen without at least a two piece suit, or a lab coat, if he’s working. Scars? Aye, he got a few of them raiding and trading his way across the Scandinavian homelands back in his human years, but most are easily hidden by his apparel.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Flirtatious ♦ Manipulative ♦ Logical ♦ Hot-headed ♦
Loki is double-edged sword, simply put. Listening to him talk is easy, a trait that made him a good college professor in his past lives. He is very intelligent and tells some of the best stories you’ve ever heard - who knows how true some of them are, though. And, hell, he could charm the pants off of just about anyone; Can, and has, most likely. Even with boatloads of charisma, he can be quite the egotistical dick sometimes. It is glaringly obvious that his own favorite person is, indeed, himself. And though vikings are known for having treated most people relatively equally long before it was the popular opinion, Loki can come off as a bit of a chauvinist. But hey, nobody’s perfect, and that’s something the Trickster never strived to be. If you can sand down those abrasive, crusty edges, you’ll find a real softy inside Loki. He just wants what everyone else wants: to have people truly care about him.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔A thick, hoppy brew
✔Having drinks with his best mates
✔Getting high, but only occasionally
✔Living in luxury
✔Blondes
✔Gingers too
✔Learning other languages
✔Calling women luv and doll, regardless of how well he knows them
✔Himself
✘Mead, Drink of the Gods or not, the shit tastes like candied piss
✘The French… no real reason why there
✘Unkempt people
✘Religion, as a vampire and as a scientist
✘The telly
✘People who can’t keep secrets
✘Humans, most of the time
✘That hideous mockery Marvel has made of his namesake
| History |
This section could go on for pages, but brevity is in fact the soul of wit. Flóki Björnsson was born to a jarl and his wife in 9th century in the lands now known as Sweden. Growing up in the Vikingar lifestyle was as much as one might expect: tough, violent, bloody, but also noble, adventurous, and enriching. Vikingar ideals make up a lot of who Loki is today, and don’t believe all the clichés and stereotypes you hear about the Vikings, they aren’t the savages history books paint them to be. Flóki’s human life ended in a brutal battle across the sea in what is now Poland. It was a warriors death that would make his father proud, and earn his place in the halls of Valhalla, or Fólkvangr, he wasn’t picky. At least, that wouldn’t have been the case, if he hadn’t woken up after, bloodied in a field among his fallen brothers and sisters with a burning thirst in his throat unlike any he’d ever known. Naturally, he went on to murder the nearest living, breathing thing… or ten. And the rest, they say, is history!
In modern times, Loki makes his mark by finding new ways to turn heads in different locations around the world. Every few years, mostly when people might start to question why he isn’t aging, Loki moves and takes on a new name and identity. He takes his business and the money it makes with him, of course, and though his legal surname changes, his aliases remain, as does his first name. Low Key is not fond of the mass outing of the supernaturals, preferring to keep his nature like his business, underground. Nothing good can come of the humans knowing about the Others, not that he feared them. No, they were a fickle race that was likely to bring about their own demise just to get there point across… and that would make finding a good meal a hell of a lot harder.
| Family |
Jarl Björn, father, died in battle.
Jarl Ragna, mother, died shortly after, giving birth to Loki’s sister.
Frida Björnsson, sister, unknown…
| Strengths |
The quintessential businessman
Quick thinker, and often correct in that thinking
With age comes wisdom
| Weaknesses |
Flounders when not in absolute control of a situation.
Acute paranoia, well, maybe not so acute.
Prone to violent outbursts when pushed too far.
The Other
| Theme Songs |
The Dope Show – Marilyn Manson
”The drugs they say make us feel so hollow
We love in vain, narcissistic and so shallow
…
There's a lot of pretty, pretty ones
That want to get you high
But all the pretty, pretty ones
Will leave you low and blow your mind”
| House Number |
36 Avalon Point
| Extra Information |
Want to know more? I guess you have to come figure that out.
Loki Van Stenberg
Blake Preston
"Ahh, the Youtuber. I suppose it’s a good a way as any for a pretty girl to make a penny."
I like blondes, but tend to keep away from the human ones… especially when they can’t keep their noses out of business that clearly isn’t any of theirs. Her interest are apt to get killed one day, not that I care.
Daniel Belson
"Now this one is a real master of his craft. I’ve spent many a night with my mates whilst he tended bar."
Seems like a decent bloke. I don’t know him well, but I’ve always enjoyed the company of demons. Plus, I think he’s one of the few men in this city that could match me in a drinking contest.
Alistair Queen
"What good is a King without a Queen?"
Handsome, well-dressed, ambitious… hell, it’s basically like looking in a mirror. What can I say? He’s my best mate, and has been for a few lifetimes. He runs things above ground while I, well, he’s the only one outside of my force that knows what I really do.
Mariska Costas
"Does someone smell… fish?"
Jokes aside, I don’t have much to say about this one. She has a nice enough voice, good background music when drinkin’ at the pub.
Nikita Yankovsky
"Wonder why she traded in the fuzzy cuffs for real ones..."
Yeah, I don’t like cops. Three guesses as to why. She seems like one of the better ones though, probably smokes pot on her days off. While she isn’t really my type, I’d be up for a little roleplay session. “I’ve been a real bad boy, Officer!”
Mordred Hame
"Great talent, but what is with that hair?"
Another demon, yeah, this city is crawling with them - most are, what better places to rustle up some chaos? Viking Metal is my genre of choice, naturally, and Cloak of Shame is among the best metal bands London has to offer.
John Taylor
"Again with the hair, I don’t get it."
He did my latest tattoo, the eagle on my shoulder here. Great work, in all honesty. I’ll definitely be going back to him for my next piece.
Eve Lumière
"Uggh, the French. Don’t get me started."
That accent almost makes the drinks taste bad. Drop dead gorgeous though, so it’s always worth the visit. I wonder what she’s like in bed, hopefully quiet.
Catharine Reid
"Girl knows how to run a business, I can appreciate that."
The vampires in this city pretty much all know of each other. I like her spicy personality, should get to know her even better. I’m sure we’d be chums in no time.
Opallum
"Untapped potential, what a shame."
I’ve had my eye on this one. Many of my men went from rags to riches under my employ. Hopefully he’ll accept my offer, I always have use for a man who knows his way around the streets. Plus, I know he has junkie friends.
Andrew Mordekai
"He makes a real strong, HOT cuppa!"
Blood, Booze, and Tea. Those are the beverages of choice listed in order of importance. Mr. Mordekai makes takes care of the third every morning before I head to the lab. The real lab, in Redbridge. Just to clarify...
Suriel White
"What the fuck is that?"
Listen, I’m all for doing whoever you please. But the kids these days with their LGBTXYZ alphabet-soup personalities! Honestly, is that a man? A woman? Don’t confuse me like that, mate! I don’t want to have to guess about what’s in your trousers...
Miles Catrose
"He’s a local hairstylist. He gave me a cut once, I won’t be hurrying back any time soon."
Not because he wasn’t good, no. Faeries just smell like pudding. Delicious… irresistible pudding. I’m glad I didn’t fang out and devour him then, that would have totally blown my cover. I’m not looking to pack up and change my name again, London suits me. I keep my distance from this kid for both our sakes, even though one of my men is his dealer.
Yukiko Abe
"I saw her at the shop where I got my ink. She’s one of the other artists… I think she owns the place too."
That isn’t all I know about her. Alistair told me about her. She is playing Mum to London’s Youngest Vampiress. Too cute.
Mona
"Looks… familiar."
Though, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this one.
Faron Romane
"That shop he works at screams witchcraft, I’m surprised the bigots haven’t torched it."
Pothead kids are a dime a dozen around here, but I can’t complain. Business such as his pays from my morning cuppa from Andrew, every little bit counts!
Nicolas Black
"Good Afternoon, Detective Black." *cue devilish smirk*
A cop and a werewolf. I’ll keep my distance, wouldn’t want him shedding on my new Kiton… or sniffing about my rear.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"She works at the plant nursery where I bought those succulents over there." *gestures to cacti*
I don’t know much else about her. Smells human, but possibly a witch. You get a keen eye for picking things like that out when you’re this old.
Megumi
"That’s Ali’s ward… Kids aren’t really my thing."
That’s a lie. I think she’s adorable… but definately creepy. It’s hard to believe that she’s as old as she is, with the bouncing around and primary school bit. She definitely livens up Alistair’s cliché abode, though… well, I’m not sure livens up is the right phrase, given that neither of them are really alive.
Stefani Roche
"Looks familiar… ahh, yes! She was the receptionist at the tattoo parlor."
There she is, London’s Youngest Vampiress. Pretty as a peach, she is. Alistair gave her a few pointers on “Vamp life”. I wouldn’t mind giving her a pointer or two myself. In due time...
Ari Amari
"Ari’s another close mate of mine."
I met the Sphinx when he moved in a few blocks down. He’s one of my best paying customers, though he doesn’t know that he is essentially buying the stuff from me. What can I say? Anonymity is everything to me and, though he’s always fun to party with, I don’t know that I can trust him just yet - especially if the blimey bastard think the Egyptian gods are better than the Norse, that’s some fine coke yer snortin’, mate!
Katharine Haynes
"Hmmm..."
Is that the girl who works with Andrew? Or is she from the other shop… I can’t remember.
Felix Underwood
"I’ve seen her at the library on occasion."
Judging from the pentagram jewelry and thick cloud of incense about her, I’m pegging this one as a witch too. That, or she’s a human wannabe witch. I don’t know what would be worse...
Elise Callaghan
*Hums one of her compositions*
What can I say? Classical music is the only vampire cliché I indulge. Okay… maybe it’s not the only one. That’s, that’s beside the point! She’s lovely. A bit curious that she doesn’t speak, what’s that about? Maybe it’s just part of her stage persona...
Claire O'Malley
"This one is Irish, I’m guessing."
I don’t know her well, I’ve just seen her and all her freckles at the grocery store once or twice.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Ugh, what an awful suit… he must have gotten it from a charity bin."
I don’t know him other otherwise. Gods, man, were you even trying to look good?
Ethan Cooper
"..."
This stranger is surprisingly attractive.
Alfie Liau
"Oh, Alfie! I like Alfie."
Some vampires are just a hoot to be around, and he’s one of them. I’ve never seen him mope about what he is, unlike most ‘monsters’, and I adore his “grab life by the balls” attitude. I’m glad we’re neighbors, and friends.
Astrid Kitchener
"She works at that bistro nearby."
I’d rather make a meal of her than be served one by her. Very pretty girl, woefully human.
Michael Elior Harel
"Stopped in his Record shop once before… piss poor selection."
That’s not true. I’m just not a fan of “God’s warriors”. I miss the days of old, when the gods displayed their power and might by walking among men. Angels are nothing but egotistical pricks.
Aila Atleo
"I don’t know her, sorry."
What? I’m not lying, I really don’t know her. Should I?
Emerson Maddox
"Can’t trust a lawyer...."
He’s too young and far too cocky to be a good lawyer. And no, I’m not anti-lawyer by any means. In my line of work, you need to have a few friends that know their way through and around the law. How do you think I get my fake papers every few years? Maybe if I get arrested locally and need help in a pinch - which could happen, admittedly - I’ll use my phone call to ring him. How could you not remember that number, what with the annoying jingle the telly plays on his commercial… all the more reason to not watch the telly.
Talia Halbrook
"That’s the doll that sold me this lovely home."
She’s easy on the eyes, too bad she’s not a lust demon.
Liam Woodsworth
"What a life? Yes, that was sarcasm."
I can't pretend to know what it's like do be a Dhampire. It seems gods awful, I can't believe Ali managed to bring kids like him into the world. Weak, sickly creatures... I hope I haven't made any! Shit... I should be more careful. Anyway, there are those who know how to party, and those who take it too far. I'm sure you can guess where this bloke falls on that spectrum.
Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson.
"He's new in town, works at the same library as that bird we talked about earlier."
Freddie may be the only witch in town that I don't mind. I've only chatted him up a time or two, but he doesn't seem as flippant as some of the other witches, and I can tell he's a good study. Despite all it's fantastical mysticism, magic is a science that deserves just as much study, dedication, and practice as any other. It's never a bad idea to have at least one witch in per city on my side, he just might shape up to be my London Witch.
Ryan Croft
"Those glasses are... what's the word for that style? Hipster? Yeah, I think that's it."
Head of the five-0 and an angel? He just might be the worst bloke in this city. I'll pass on any false pleasantries here. It's best that he doesn't ever see my face... something tells me he'd just know if he did. Too risky.
Aiden Lewis Phillips
"He's hit on me at the pub before, along with practically everyone else there."
Aiden's a nice enough bloke. Pretty young for a vampire, but has a brilliant mind. It's nice to be able to hold an intelligent, scientific conversaion with him. We aren't best mates by any means, but we've only just met.
Eternity Loveless
"Hmmm. Can I keep this picture?" *smirks*
Never met her, but I'm really hoping that changes. Love the hair.
Patrick Kershner
"You know how you can sometimes tell what a person is like just by looking at them? Well... he looks boring."
He's also another werewolf on the police force. Why the hell do I like living here again? I guess this is one way to make eternity pass by in an interesting manner...
Nicodem Kaminski
"Oh, Nic... I don't think he likes me much."
Yeah, we met quite a few years back. We played a game of poker and I made out with a good sum of his money. He didn't take too kindly to that. Now he's a police commissioner where I currently live. Whoops?
Anastasia 'Alison' Psomas
"Is that the best photo you could get of her? She looks... tired."
But that's just my shallow first impression, I don't know this girl. Maybe she's a dhampire? She kinda has that 'run ragged' look going on. Or maybe she's a junkie...
James Bright
"Looks like he's just a high school kid."
I've never seen him around before. |
1,027 | 14 | 42 | 2,206 | 79 | Barachiel
Location: Early Bean
Mentions: Talia Halbrook
When Barachiel arrived at the Early Bean the morning rush was still going full swing. Apparently even the horrid weather couldn't keep people away from their much needed coffee. Many described feeling addicted to the bitter dark liquid, a fact that it found rather confusing. As far as it could tell addiction to anything in this society was highly frowned upon, yet no one blinked an eye but instead agreed wholeheartedly when one mentioned addiction to coffee. Personally it was okay with this particularly confusing and illogical hole in the mankind's social rules. Its hands felt might turn into blocks of ice if a warm beverage wasn't placed in its hand soon. Finally getting through the line and coming out on the other end with a hot chocolate, Barachiel decided it would be best if it stopped a moment and went over the file of its next child. It scanned the room looking for available tables. As luck had it there was one left open by a gentleman who had just gotten up to leave. Picking the seat so that Barachiel could see the rest of the establishment, it began opening up its briefcase and pulling out the file for one Dylan Fox.
Dylan Fox's situation was heartbreaking to the angel. The child himself had a bright a soul as any on this Earth but his family was torn apart and it was beginning to send the young child on the same dark path the rest of his family seemed so intent on walking down. When Barachiel had first met the ten year old Dylan, his older brother had just been arrested for stashing their dead mother and using her checkbook to supply his drug habit. Most everyone except Dylan and his two brothers thought the lady had simply become a shut it, and this went on for a couple weeks until a neighbor called the authorities about a horrid smell coming from the lads apartment. A horrid story really. Thankfully the lad was currently living with his grandparents who seemed a good sort of people as far as it could tell. But Barachiel thought this might be challenged soon as the boys' father was expected to be getting out of prison sometime this year, and such fights were never easy for the child.
But there was nothing it could do about the coming situation so it concentrated on ways of helping the young boy now, going through all its notes and observations, taking mental notes of successful attempts at getting the child to open up. Sometimes all they needed was someone to confide in. The trick not being overbearing and an authoritative figure telling the youngster what to do, but instead being a friend who listens and when asked gives advice base on similar experiences in the past. If one wasn't careful it could easily slip into the first.
Every once in awhile the angel would take a sip from its hot coco, its eyes going over the people coming in. Most were just another person off the street that faded into the background. Every once and awhile Barachiel's mind would find a stranger that stood out from the others and it would spend a moment thinking about where they were going and where they were coming from. There really wasn't any point to this practice but it found that it enjoyed the stories it came up for people. At one point its eyes rested upon a young lady who seemed to simply radiate confidence, just from the moment she entered the door to getting in the still long line. It was hard to describe what it was about the woman that gave off such confidence, but Barachiel settling on the face and the way the woman's looked upon the room as if she was owned it and everyone who filled it was simply a pawn for her to use. Its mind immediately going to work trying to explain where this feeling came from but Barachiel just smiled and shook its head. It was likely she was just another face that would get lost in the shuffle and it needed to continue to give its attention to Dylan and his situation. | The beard makes me look bad ass right?
Patrick Kershner
Werewolf
Basic Information
| Name |
Patrick Kershner. Not Patty. Patty is a girl’s name got it?
| Date of Birth |
28 July 1996.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Investigative Analyst
| In-Depth Appearance |
Imagine that nerdy kid that got stuffed in school lockers and dragged into the bathrooms by the school bullies because that kid is Patrick. Standing a lanky five foot ten, it’s as if his body went through all the functions of puberty but his arms and legs forgot that they were supposed to reach a certain atheistically pleasing ratio with the body during this period. This combined with the hell that was high school left the young man with a seriously lacking amount of self confidence and it shows on his face and the way he carries himself.
Patrick has a high pitched and what can sometimes be called nasally voice which he believes is the root cause of his tendency to mumble and speed through his sentences when he talks. But on the plus side his choice in clothing is fantastic despite the fact that he’s constantly defending it when he is around his know associates. Everyone knows skinny jeans are in nowa days.
To counter his meager, nerdy looking human side, at nights Patrick is a different man all together. Thick dark black hair will protrude from every office, and his nails will extend, and thicken to a sharpened point to resemble claw. His ears begin to resemble that of a dog or wolf, and his eyes enlarge taking on animalistic fierceness. Oh and there’s always the contorting transformation of his body into a six foot seven, two hundred sixty-five pound hulking mass of terror.
But on the bright side this whole werewolf thing has allowed him to grow a beard which he thinks really helps him look more manly and cooler.
You could say, I had my life together for a whole week before it fell apart again.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Shy ♦ Introvert ♦ Loyal ♦ Caring ♦
Being tortured most of your adolescent life tends to leave its scar on you. Patrick would rather fade into a crowd, yet secretly wants to be the center of attention. He simply wouldn’t know what to do once he was there and he’d probably just break down in panic attack. So he’ll just stick to the fading into the crowd bit. He generally hates the sound of his own voice so he tends to whisper and mumble around people he isn’t comfortable with but when he doesn’t think or know anyone is paying attention he’ll have full blown conversations with himself. Something to help ward of the loneliness he thinks. He’s serious push over with no real back bone to go against the tide and stand up for himself, some idea, or belief, even though he has a really strong moral belief on what’s right and what’s wrong. Really his whole outer shell is just a giant fake façade he puts on for the world, except its not… because you know you’re supposed to be able to stop a façade.
On the plus side when he’s around one of the few people in his inner circle that he’s comfortable with he’ll act without a care in the world. And not only that he’ll be extremely caring and loyal. Where he wouldn’t be willing to squash a fly for himself, he’d take on a whole coven of pissed of witches for one of his friends. Or if it would cheer a friend up at three in the morning he’ll literally run across town (the recent werewolf thing has helped with this) to buy the last chocolate bar being sold. So those are the positives.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔His computer, God knows what he’d do without it.
✔ Squirrels, you can’t say you’ve ever seen an ugly squirrel.
✔ Dogs, I know. Cliché with the werewolf bit but you like what you like.
✔ Thrills. At first he’ll say it’s a horrible idea but by the end he’s really glad he went along with it.
✔ Patterns, like patterns in numbers and studies and shit. Not like floral. Jesus.
✔ His room, good luck getting him out of their without a good deal of complaining.
✔ Texting, it’s so much easier than talking in person.
✘Large Crowds, that’s just asking for a panic attack.
✘ Authority figures, yet another cause of anxiety.
✘ Getting in trouble, nine times out of ten that’s gonna stay with you for the rest of your life man.
✘ Sports, just another excuse to get beaten up.
✘ Spiritual talk, makes him really uncomfortable.
✘ Flirting, did that once. Didn’t turn out so well.
✘ Vegetables, now he has a good excuse to not eat them.
| History |
Patrick’s life has been that of any normal nerd who gets picked on a lot in school for the most part. Good grades, leads to college, where you think things are gonna turn around for you until your anxiety reminds you that you are still you. So instead you spend most of your free time in your room on your computer playing games, while everyone else is going out and experimenting away. He really didn’t have any serious complains. A significant other would have been nice from time to time so he didn’t have to keep going to Rosey Palms. But that’s what really got him into trouble.
After getting out of school, Patrick landed a job with the London police force as a investigative analyst tracking crime patterns. It was actually a pretty decent time. The guys on the force treated him pretty well and he actually started to feel like a welcomed part of a group. In fact he had even been lucky enough to be asked out on a date one morning while he was standing in line waiting for coffee. She was a cute looking girl, who as far as Patrick could tell had a lot more experience at these things than he did. She asked if he wanted to go out to a club with her and a couple of her friends that Friday and eventually when he was done with his dorky gawking and stuttering he got out a yes.
Now suffice to say Patrick had never gone to a club before in his life. The whole thing was intimidating as hell. The girls all had some kind of guy on their arms and Patrick was pretty positive they could each mug him with just their pinky fingers. The getting patted down before being allowed into the club didn’t do much to calm his nerves as he had never guessed that was necessary before he entered. Once he got out onto the dance floor he shuffled around looking what he could only assume was like a complete idiot. He kept thinking that the girl was going to ditch him, but she stayed with him an actual smile on her face. Just when he let his guard down and actually started relaxing and having fun she pulled on his hand and led him off to some back room. That was where things got really bad.
He had never felt so much pain before and pain had been a pretty constant factor back in school. They shredded his skin, clothes, muscles, everything. He was pretty sure he was going to die right then in there killed by creatures that were never supposed to have existed on what had been the best night of his life. But they let him live. Next thing he knew he was in the hospital, the nurse telling him his brothers had brought him in. But that was really odd considering he didn’t have any siblings. A little after that his pack arrived and everything Patrick knew about the world was turned upside down. He didn’t dare refusing joining the Bisclavret pack fearing what they’d do to them if he didn’t. Ever since then he’s been begrudgingly joining them in their sneaky little joining ceremonies, though he’s rarely and active participant leaving some to begin questioning his real loyalty to the pack.
| Family |
John and Stacey Kershner: His parents live in a small town off in the country and Patrick rarely ever speaks to them regardless how much they bug him. He’s never really felt all that connected to his parents and was plenty happy moving to London requiring him to talk to them even less. That being said he does love them and will check in from time to time.
| Strengths |
Intelligent. Patrick is a smart cookie if nothing else making him very good at his job. And he’s pretty good at catching on to things quickly.
Isn’t very emotional and can deal with just about anything thrown his way. Made him a little numb his life has.
Extremely loyal to those close to him.
| Weaknesses |
A major push over and all around scaredy cat in most regards of his life.
Socially awkward to the extreme.
Never engaged in any serious relationship with another person that didn’t end in a giant joke.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Loser - Beck
” And my time is a piece of wax
Falling' on a termite
Who's choking' on the splinters”
| House Number |
To be discussed.
| Extra Information |
Nothing as of now. |
1,028 | 14 | 43 | 2,567 | 1,182 | 27B-> The Early Bean
Interacting with: None at present.
"Okay, then. I'll be back in a little while." Claire hopped in her car (A beat-up old Ford Fiesta with three wheels in the grave and the fourth on a banana peel), and headed off to the store.
As she headed back, foodstuffs in tow, she passed by The Early Bean. There wasn't anything that needed to be refrigerated right away, so she decided to stop in for a little bit, have a quick bite. The blueberry scones looked quite good, so she ordered two of those. She sat back, taking a few minutes to check her phone. | | Name |
Fiona Blake Preston
If you call her Fiona, she will cut you. It's Blake.
| Date of Birth |
October 13th, 1997
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Fluid
| Occupation |
High school dropout — Blogger/Youtuber and barista
Blake was never a straight A student. She often cut class, didn't turn in homework, didn't study... It was only a matter of time until she dropped out. Fortunately for her, she's found minor success in blogging. While she doesn't rake in the a LOT of money, it's enough to keep her afloat. As long as she keeps her barista job at this little coffee shop, she can get by with a little extra left over for herself.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Despite the fact that she's always telling people to "FITE ME," Blake is a rather frail and petite. She may be tough, and she may bite and claw and kick and play dirty, but at the end of the day she's a petite lady that only stands at 5'2. She definitely does not look physically imposing whatsoever. Her threats are often disregarded for good reason — Blake is in no way able to hold her own in a fight.
Blake is "unladylike" according to her mother. She doesn't sit up straight, and spreads her legs when she sits down. Even after years of being chastised by her mother, she hasn't learned (or rather, refused to learn) and her posture is the worst it's ever been and it makes her look even shorter than she actually is. There's usually a cigarette between her slender fingers, and when she's relaxing at all, she sprawls out all over the ground, bench, couch, chair... Whatever it may be. Yup, she's the type of person to sit at the edge of a seat and lean back, spread her arms and legs out and hog the entire thing.
It's obvious from her own sense of style (it's grunge, by the way) that she doesn't particularly put too much effort into her appearance. Her unruly hair is always tied up in a messy ponytail without a second thought or any particular styling. Her naturally brunette hair is hastily bleached with her roots beginning to show. Her face is usually devoid of makeup — it's too much work, and too girly. Oh, speaking of which, Blake will always always always resist wearing skirts or dresses or heels. It takes a lot of convincing to force her into one of those things. She's content with her ripped jeans, combat boots and flannel thank you very much.
"Blake Preston; Blogger, youtuber, queer extraordinaire, and general failure at life at your service."
| Personality |
♦ Hotheaded ♦ Temperamental ♦ Aggressive ♦ Tomboy ♦
A girl prone to outbursts of emotions, Blake is someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word "restraint." She lets her emotions run freely and away, often leaving her more rational brain behind. She doesn't hold back whatsoever; when she's angry, she rages. When she's sad, she wails. When she laughs, everything about her lights up. She's passionate, and she experiences life to the fullest. Sometimes a little too fully. Her passionate moods have a tendency to be volatile and rampant, often swinging wildly out of her own control. There's little to no chance in reasoning with her when she's upset in any way.
Blake has an adventurous streak that's unbound and unrestricted by rules. She bends and sometimes even breaks laws (to her, they're more like guidelines) to suit her needs. A lot of her interest was peaked by stories of the supernatural and the occult, so she's done her fair share of breaking into abandoned houses that were supposedly haunted and such. She's not a skeptic, she's a believer. There's just got to be something beyond humanity. It's a little cheesy, but her fascination with monsters, ghost stories, fortune telling... It's unparalleled. She's never been the type to sit down and study anything, but she's spent hours and hours poring over books concerning the mystical.
She's rather aggressive and isn't afraid to get into anyone's face. She can often be heard telling people to "FIGHT ME" and "Wanna say that to my face!?" and "I can take ya!" while shooting death glares. She's all talk though, and although she wouldn't hesitate to punch someone in the face, she knows that she's a bit too weak to really fight someone. It doesn't stop her from egging someone on though. That's landed her in a lot of trouble in the past when she bites off a lot more than she can chew and pushes someone too far.
Blake doesn't make friends very easily due to her temperamental and aggressive nature, but when she does make friends she displays a softer side. She cares a lot about many different things, and that includes the people close to her heart. She's overprotective, sometimes a bit smothering with her affection, and is a bit clumsy at being a friend, but she sure as hell is loyal and tries her very best.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Occult, ghost stories and horror movies
✔Chocolate milkshakes with whipped cream topping and a chocolate drizzle on top
✔Tim Burton movies
✔Bending rules and sneaking around
✔Spicy snacks like hot cheetos and takis
✔Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✔Thrills and adventure
✔Nachos
✔Fortune Telling (notably palm-reading and tarot cards)
✔Playing guitar
✘Being feminine
✘Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✘Feeling trapped
✘Being forced to do something (like schoolwork)
✘Licorice
✘Cats — They're cute but she's very allergic
✘Fancy chocolates
| History |
Can you believe that the tomboy-ish Blake was once a girl that dressed in Mary Janes, flouncy skirts and ribbons in her hair? When she was younger, Fiona actually went by her first name, and she was her mother's little angel and dress up doll. Coming from a very traditional family that adhered to gender norms and such, she was expected to be quiet and ladylike, while her brother was allowed to be unruly and wild. She didn't appreciate that at all. Why did she have to stay indoors and play house and dress up her barbies when her brother was allowed to play outside in the dirt?
It was around middle school when she started rebelling against her parents. You know, the dreaded "goth" phase that a lot of people go through when they're in the beginning stages of a teenager. She dyed her hair black, wore a ton of eyeliner, scoffed at the "prepz and pozers" and rejected everything that her mother expected her to be. Thankfully she grew out of it eventually, but she found herself a completely different identity than what she was supposed to be.
And you know what? She never looked back. She ditched the skirts, the ribbons, all of the pink and lace — much to her mother's chagrin. That's when her relation with her parents plummeted. They couldn't comprehend why she was being so rebellious. What happened to the sweet little girl that they raised? Where did they go wrong? She rejected her birth name of Fiona, started staying out past curfew, ditching school, started hanging out with the wrong crowd... Her grades were suffering, she stopped caring about things and started living for herself.
Needless to say, she didn't last too long at school or home after that. She dropped out of school in the middle of her Junior year, and moved out the moment she turned eighteen. She stayed at her friend's house for a few months, working the odd jobs until she had saved up enough to go rent her own place.
For years, she's maintained a blog and a youtube channel. In her sophomore year, it started really picking up and gaining popularity. She has a large following that are dedicated to her — enough for her to start making money off of those. She's fairly well-known as a presence on the internet. She talks about a lot of stuff on the two, but notably she explores various supernatural theories and the occult.
And now it's been confirmed that the supernatural do exist? Uh, can you say best day ever?
| Family |
Maria Preston - Mother — Maria Preston is Blake's strict mother. She had high expectations for her only daughter, and was extremely disappointed when she didn't grow up to be as she hoped. She wanted Blake to grow up to be a proper lady — educated, respected, independent, and to marry a nice man. A doctor, perhaps. Obviously Blake rebelled against it, and their relation has been strained ever since. They haven't talked to each other ever since Blake moved out a few years ago.
Michael Preston - Father — Michael has always been out and about, flying all over the world for his job. He's been absent for a lot of Blake's childhood, so Blake harbors some resentment towards him. He came back in her preteen years, just in time for her transition into a new person. Along with his wife, he tried a bit too hard to push Blake back into a more appropriate direction. He's been absent for the majority of her childhood; what does he know?
Andy Preston - Older brother — Blake has always been jealous of her brother; he always got to do all of the things that she wasn't allowed to. Nevertheless, the two have always managed to maintain a close relationship. He's her best friend, and is also the only family member she continues to contact every so often.
| Strengths |
Passionate
Free-spirited
Independent
| Weaknesses |
Stubborn
Short-fused
Overly and needlessly aggressive
Rebellious
"Don't you think that there's no way we're the only ones here? Science can't explain everything — There's something more out there. And I'm going to find out what; damn all the consequences. I want to know."
| Theme Song |
Bad Reputation – Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
”I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation
You're living in the past, it's a new generation
A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights, 24A
| Extra Information |
She has over 10,000 followers on various social media
Fairly skilled with photography — nothing professional, but she has a good eye
At one point she worked as a professional fortune teller
"Bitch, you wanna go? Fight me." |
1,029 | 14 | 44 | 1,523 | 3,443 | Location: 25B Faraday Heights
Interacting With: Mona
"The prediction's about death, not being told about it," Felix corrected absently, frowning at the now-washed clear teacup. Nick Bloodfang wasn't the target of the omen, of that she was sure: he had died last night, and the leaves left at the bottom of her tea informed her of someone to die after the cup had been downed. "I'm sure someone predicted his death out there, though. And this whole Helsing mess."
She smiled easily at Mona, finding the company of the dead more interesting than discussing the living. "I swear to god if someone in the library asks if I can conjure a fireball for them, my response is going to be, 'Me not that kind of witch.' Tarzan-like, yaknow?" Wearing a pentagram around her neck was a target, a big bullseye sitting where the triangles intersected above her heart, but Felix wouldn't change it for the world. She revelled in the negative attention in a way that she was sure was not healthy.
But enough about that: Felix was too busy fighting off a cheesy grin and a bright flush in her cheeks to say much of anything but, "Yeah, sure. Do you wanna build a snow man? It doesn't have to be a– No, not that desperate. We could go into town – I could see if I could make you visible to everyone for a while with some jiggery-pokery hocus-pocus if you want?"
Location: 19 Avalon Point – Home.
Interacting With: Megumi
"What a surprise," Alistair said dryly, and moved to return downstairs to the living room and the travesty that was the British Media on BBC One. Just before he did so, however, he turned to shout over his shoulder, "Leaving at nine sharpish, okay? I'll get you some strawberries for breakfast." Usually he would be there at nine o'clock, because he had never been one to put off and put off work until there was no time left to do it; however, with the snow, it was only expected that he be a little more lackadaisical about the whole landlord duties thing.
Then he heard it again: Nick Bloodfang, accused of murder by the court, has been found dead in holding– Alistair wondered if he had ended his own life, and 'Helsing' was just taking credit for it. Having the whole supernatural community on your back for outing them prematurely must be rough, and it wasn't exactly hard to stay hidden, unless you savage a teenager in front of a camera. If only they had such things back in the nineteenth century; the things that happened in Victorian London were not at all safe for human life, that was for sure.
He shook his head and continued about his morning (nightly?) routine: comb his hair, pick out his nicest jumper, suck on a blood bag to take the edge off his thirst... All sorts of normal things, while he waited for Megumi to come down. Alistair even sent a text to Blake Preston's number: hey sorry about the short notice but I have to bring my daughter along - hope thats k.
Really though, he was their landlord, he could do what he wanted, within reason. | Basic Information
| Name |
Alistair Ruaraidh Queen
| Date of Birth |
December, 1324
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Landlord – Alistair owns a great deal of property in Edgetoun, and has done for about a century. This passive income, as well as close to seven centuries worth of savings, allows him to spend more time socialising, schmoozing and collecting rare occult texts (the likes of which impoverished student witches can only dream of).
| In-Depth Appearance |
Alistair was changed in his mid-to-late twenties (the uncertainty natural for vampires of his era or older) and as a result has been frozen at such an age for close to seven centuries. While he lived a haggard life and doesn't appear too baby-faced, he does attempt to look older for reasons of respect. Generally he does so by wearing easy business suits, woolen jumpers with checkered shirts underneath; by letting his stubble grow out and furrowing his brows enough so that dark lines form between them; and, of course, the reading glasses that are only present during the day when he's not having fun.
He stands at about 5'9" – tall for his time period of malnutrition and famine and illness but only slightly above-average nowadays in Britain. A lean build betrays an upbringing where food wasn't plentiful, and might also explain the way he abstains from drinking blood for at least a week before chowing down on some poor ICU patient in a hospital. With blonde hair, brown eyes and a jawline to die for, Alistair can definitely be considered ruggedly handsome.
Pale skin doesn't look too unusual in London, and he's more than experienced in smirking in just the right way so as to hide his elongated fangs. Alistair hides the bite scar on his neck from when he was turned with a variety of turtle-necks and scarves, though he does have other ones from his time working for the Collective. Did you know he's been run through with a sword in the very distant past?
Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Aloof ♦ Dreamer ♦ Flirtatious ♦ Self-Deprecating ♦
Alistair has always been ambitious for as long as he can remember. When he was impoverished, illiterate and very likely to die young, he wanted more; when he was making a name for himself in the vampire community, he wanted more; when he was middle-class; when he was rich; when he was a socialite... Nothing ever satisfies him: he's chasing dreams of his youth and can be seen as quite greedy as a result. There is no doubt an aspect to his life goals that is largely hedonistic. When he's charitable (which is quite often, actually) it's more for his sake, to make himself feel good.
He's the first person to admit all of this – he tends not to have a positive view of himself and is actually quite self-aware.
"You miss 100% of every shot you don't take." This is certainly something Alistair lives by, hence his tendency to flirt shamelessly and without reservation and take risks in his private and professional lives. It's also what is prompting him to come out as a vampire to the public, joining the small number providing interviews and information. He is curious, and he does believe the best of humanity for now.
Despite being warm and friendly and on occasion humorous, Alistair hold his cards close to his chest. He likes to know more about other people than they know about him, and is not very forthcoming on answering personal questions without a good reason to do so. He much prefers to change the subject, or question the other person instead. He is a good listener, with a long memory when it counts: he'll remember someone's favourite movie and why he's holding a grudge against them at the same time.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Historical movies and documentaries (the more wrong, the better).
✔ Alcohol. Getting utterly pissed at least two nights a week.
✔ Kids.
✔ Drinking lots of blood – particularly from the terminally ill.
✔ The invention of electricity.
✔ The invention of Tinder.
✔ 1960s culture and film and especially music.
✔ Trashy erotica novels targeted at women and ancient manuscripts, equally.
✘ Dhampires – it's not fair that they die so fast.
✘ Wars. World Wars, supernatural wars, everything to do with conflict.
✘ English bank notes (the Scottish ones look nicer).
✘ Aristocracy, as old habits die hard.
✘ Illness, disease and death of loved ones.
✘ Journalists and the Media, especially with current events.
✘ Similarly, liars.
| History |
If asked, Alistair remembers very little about his human life – the only time when his memory has failed him yet – but in reality he is quite reluctant to talk about it. Born in the 1300s, he was neither rich or middle-class and could instead have been considered the very bottom of the barrel. His mother was a prostitute, suffering from ill-health for most of her life, and thus Alistair was raised communally, left to wander the streets as he liked. He was kicked out at age eight, a year before his mother died, and spent most of the rest of his life as a gutter rat, picking pockets and stealing to live (and for fun).
He would have died from the bubonic plague, something he avoided until the very end of the period it was most virulent in, if it hadn't been for a vampire looking to bolster his forces. His preference for sickly blood arose here, because as a fledgeling, he was allowed only to feed from the very worst people on the way up to the Highlands to fight a war with other vampires. Said war he glosses over, except the fact he ran from it (joining the opposite side, a young Northern Alliance) and was stabbed. Twice.
Alistair stuck around with the northern vampires for a good fifty years, becoming useful to the at-the-time leader and making a bit of a name for himself, but he decided that a life of petty politics and infighting and enforcing the rules of vampirekind wasn't for him, and moved down south to join the Collective... which was more of the same thing. Still, while in London, he learned how to read and write – skills he was long overdue in requiring – and although he left yet another large organisation after only a few decades, he found a home in the sprawling capital.
So, over the centuries he acquired wealth from working in a variety of professions, rarely for more than a few years. At one point he was a diplomat for the King which made it all the easier to hide his aging, especially when he was on the other side of the world. In the 19th century in particular he became something of a well-known figure, generous to supernatural creatures who had found themselves to one of the most powerful countries in the world and calmer than he had been in years previous. He worked as a teacher for a while in a non-public school, acquired land in Edgetoun (before it was a London borough) and spent most of the rest of his money.
20th and 21st century, other than siring a few dhampire children by accident, has been spent collecting old relics of the past – of his past – and magical textbooks. When the Other were revealled recently, he had to deal with his daughter (who shares the same surname as him) coming out as a dhampire and explaining what it means to be one on live television as well as rehouse a few of his tenants for privacy reasons.
| Family |
Louis Queen, 35 – Son, a dhampire who lives on the other side of London that Alistair sees infrequently. Seems to have distanced himself as much as is possible from the whole supernatural dealings, although strained phone calls have revealed that health issues related to his half-breed status are finally catching up to him.
Lorna Queen, 16 – Daughter, another dhampire who lives with her mother, a prominent journalist for the BBC. Alistair still has visitation rights, which he tries his best to make use of in his spare time. His daughter was interviewed as a part of the initial outbreak of moral panic at the reveal.
Otherwise, he has two ex-girlfriends, both amazingly still alive thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, and in the past has had quite a few more children, all of which died before their time due to the perils of being a dhampire.
| Strengths |
Well-read and knowledgeable of the history of the supernatural (especially vampires).
Tries his best to stay connected to the occult population of Edgetoun, and London as a whole.
A long history of enforcing the rules of the Collective on unruly and unforgivable vampires.
| Weaknesses |
Pacifistic – refuses to admit that sometimes there are situations that words can't get you out of.
Even though he collects them, he doesn't like to call in favours or accept any help whatsoever. Does everything solo.
Likes humanity, if in a bit of a condescending way, and can't conscience doing wrong by them.
Other
| Theme Song |
Winter Sound – Of Monsters and Men
”Stop, you're cold against the skin
Take me in your arms when walls are closing in
And I run, I run, I run, awakening my heart
But you overwhelm my lungs and it's tearing me a-part.”
| House Number |
19 Avalon Point – A large-ish house with a sizable back garden that he moved into eight years ago or so. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and one of the bedrooms he tends to rent out to a supernatural in need.
| Extra Information |
Speaks and understand several languages (French, Gàidhlig, German, Japanese) but can only read and write in English.
Blake Preston
"I own the house she rents. It feels a wee bit unethical to watch her YouTube videos."
Alistair didn't even know earning a living with homemade videos was even possible before he met his tenant, unless one was in a certain industry (Nikita, please). While Blake skipped on rent a few times, paid it late on others, he always let it slide easily and without further reproach – something a lot of landlords might not have done. Maybe it was because he had a soft-spot for go-getting entrepreneurs or maybe it was for a pretty face; who knows?
Daniel Belson
"Do you think if I recite the Lord's Prayer he'll sneeze? 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name...'"
You can take a boy out of the church but you can't quite shake the catechism from his blood. Alistair doesn't consider himself to be rather Christian, or really religious at all, really, but he hides behind the debt he owes to the church itself for keeping him alive and from the clutches of starvation so he could reach an age to die of the plague. Demons like Daniel make him feel uneasy, perhaps because they bring with them reminders that he was taught to avoid sin and vices – and, as a poor child with not a penny to his name, especially envy.
Mariska Costas
"Believe it or not, sometimes I like to live life like the upper class. Listening to jazz is part and parcel of that, isn't it?"
Generally, Alistair likes to know what everyone around him is, supernatural-wise. He can pick out a normal human from a distance, mostly based on how nice their blood is, but sometimes there's tricky ones like Mariska. He's certain she's not a vampire, but that's all he knows, other than that he heard her first when she was making her debut in lounges in the 1930s. One day, he tells himself, he'll chase her up to find out what she actually his. 'Curiosity killed the cat,' is a warning that stays forever in his mind.
Nikita Yankovsky
"So, Nikita is a policewoman now. At least if it doesn't work out she has a new uniform to use in her 'day job'. Authentic."
Alistair likes Nikita, in a completely unromantic way. Friend, friend with benefits – what's the difference? There never used to be one in the 19th century, or at least not in his social group. There is some hope that his own position as a supernatural pariah (when it inevitably comes out into the open like airing a dusty cupboard) doesn't affect hers. She seems to be doing quite well for herself, for a demon. It might seem shallow, but he considers that the only reason they wouldn't work out. Alistair is well-aware that he is apprehensive as fuck around demons.
Mordred Hame
"I might have liked his music when I was an angsty thirteen year old with nothing to live for. Now that I mention it..."
If asked, Alistair will say that it is greatest shame that he once listened to Mordred Hame's music. It's not bad, objectively, but it's not his "scene", his "jam" or whatever it is the kids are calling it these days. That they play it in those alternative clothing stores that he just so happened to be in to buy a cute backpack for Megumi was enough of a dose for him. Small quantities of this music only, please, as it should be. On a more serious note, he worries that it's going to give bad preconceptions to the supernatural community.
John Taylor
"What the fuck is he..?"
Okay, so nobody ever said that Alistair wasn't a drama queen, but the point still stands. John is one of his tenants (Faraday Heights, 28A if he remembers correctly) and... somewhat human? But not edible? But disgusting for no apparent reason? Alistair trusts his senses for the most part: they let him know if someone close to him has a terminal illness; they let him know when there's a meal to be had in the area and not the home-cooked kind, but they simply don't function as they should around John – not if he's a normal human. Which he can't be. He can't be.
Eve Lumière
"Now there's a lust demon if ever I saw one. Rooming with Blake Preston. Not going to think too hard on that one."
Eve's an ironic name for a demon, isn't it? That was the first thing he noticed when he met her, because obviously he had experience enough with Nikita to know one almost by sight. The bar she works in isn't the best – I should know, I own the building – but usually when I drop by I'm tipsy enough so as not to complain. I like her, but she's French. That's just begging the question, even if half-hearted: 'Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?"
Opallum
"He's not human, is he? It's a shame, but even some of our own fall through the cracks."
Alistair is naturally curious: is it an addiction problem? Is it a matter of pride? Is it incompatibility with the modern world moving on from whenever the guy – the Other – was born? He could help with any of that, just like he always slips a tenner into a cup when he sees a homeless person begging on the streets. Soft-hearted? No, not really, but he knew what it was like in a time before warm jackets and a good chance of a warm meal everyday. He can sympathise.
Andrew Mordekai
"I swear to God – or whatever ones he worships – if that activist group turns sour. I'm done with London."
Alistair has seen enough peaceful protests in his life go sour that he has a natural distrust for activist groups. While hearing that one wants to represent him is heart-warming really, from what he's seen of the witch (always from afar) and heard of from a friend in the magical circles, someone who's an elemental mage with a talent for fire of all things shouldn't be the leader. Volatile, very volatile. He'll be watching that movement, and a small part of him is expecting arson from it.
Suriel White
"Dr. White, we have a problem! There's a patient going into cardiac arrest in Ward 3. Cause of death: exsanguination by my hand."
Alistair is deeply, deeply sorry for his loss of control. The event happened almost two years ago, an inability to control his bloodlust after a long period of abstinence, and it was a coma patient who suffered – their family losing out on having their last moments with them. He remembers very little for that night, having slipped behind a curtain with a bunch of flowers to pretend he was in the area to visit another patient shortly after his accident to watch the affair, and Dr. White was one of them. Not human. He hopes the good doctor didn't see him then.
Miles Catrose
"I cut my own hair because I'm thrifty – is this guy a good alternative? Anybody know?"
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Yukiko Abe
"I know she's not as young as she looks, but how old? It gets hard to tell after a certain point, usually when you stop counting birthdays.."
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Mona
"Dead. Young, too, by the looks of it. Just a kid."
Alistair believes in ghosts. He sees her wandering around every so often, and he rents out the flat to Felix Underwood, so he knows of this Mona's prolonged existence. A part of him is morbidly curious around ghosts. When you've lived as long as he has, questions of the after-afterlife begin to pop up, because technically (by church standards) Alistair is already dead. Will he end up like her after somebody shanks him? Probably not – his life is fulfilling enough and he's certain he won't leave anything behind as a vampire anyway. He wonders what Mona's unresolved issue is.
Faron Romane
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Nicolas Black
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Megumi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Katharine Haynes
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Elise Callaghan
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Claire O'Malley
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Ethan Cooper
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Alfie Liau
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Michael Harel
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Emerson Maddox
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Talia Halbrook
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Loki Van Stenberg
"I'm just waiting for the day the police show up at my door asking me where he is, and I have to lie and say I'm not hiding him."
Alistair is a pacifist: he prefers words to actions, diplomacy to force, socialism, freedom of speech but not the freedom to harm others... But he hasn't always been like that. Loki's a "tad" older than him, most likely smarter than him, and for the longest time, Alistair was a little starstruck – especially shortly after their first meeting many centuries ago. Ambition ran in his blood back then, and he always did learn by rote, or mimicry. For a time, Alistair copied Loki, became just as violent as him; twice as bloody.
He grew out of that when he learned to read, properly, and broke free enough to start making a name for himself in different fields. Alistair is a firm believer that despite his disinterest in bloodshed and violence, and his hope that the worlds of the supernatural and humanity will one day merge, he is not incompatible with his once best friend, with whom he had the foolish, almost childish belief of taking on the world. After all, Alistair is nothing if not dedicated, and no matter how much he dislikes killing, he would for Loki. That's what best mates are for.
That, and banter.
Aiden Phillips
"I turned him. I always did have a thing for blondes."
Write what they actually think about this character here. |
1,030 | 14 | 45 | 2,015 | 780 | Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson
Location: Faraday Heights, 24B, Home
Interacting With: Eve Lumiére
"When love breaks up, When the dawn light wakes up, A new life is born, Somehow I have to make this final breakthru . . . Now!
I wake up, Feel just fine, Your face, Fills my mind, I get religion quick, 'Cos you're looking divine
As strains of the one and only Freddie Mercury washed through the apartment from the media centre in the corner, the one and only Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson opened his eyes to greet the new day. It took a few beats for his mind to sort itself out and then he felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder. Rolling over, he was greeted by the first magical sight of the day; a breakfast tray, complete with orange juice, a cloth handkerchief, buttered crumpets and a steaming cup of English Breakfast tea, hovering in the air over the bed. Still gently poking his shoulder was a small teaspoon, given the task of making sure he didn't knock over the tray and ruin the last hour's work of his animated household appliances. Even though he was woken up this way almost every day, Freddie couldn't help but grin. Magic, what a wonderful thing to have in your life.
He sat up, picked up the teaspoon, gently put it down on the tray and then eased the tray onto his lap. Sip the tea, nibble the crumpets, drink the orange juice and enjoy the continued pay off of a week's casting, experimentation, recasting of the different animations necessary to make sure that the food was not only made properly but delivered gently. During the testing period he'd been hit over the head many, many times by both the breakfast tray and the tea spoon. Still, no one said the path to the perfect breakfast was supposed to be easy. Speaking of the perfect breakfast, he got to work finishing his own off. Hmmm, the crumpets were well buttered but slightly overcooked, have to modify some of the spell parameters. Swallowing the last of the orange juice, Freddie put the tray aside (it immediately began to float towards the kitchen and wash itself), leapt out of bed and and showered. With personal hygiene out of the way, he came back to the bedroom and began choosing his outfit for the day. Wallace of Wallace and Gromit or a 1950s book clerk from Kent? Choices, choices.
Living breathing, Rock 'n' Roll, this never ending fight!
As Freddie reached the end of another song, Freddie spoke up. "Radio what's new, please" he said, staring at the media centre. It took half a second for the spells to translate his spoken commands into commands for the machine but then BBC Radio One came to life with its characteristic businesslike tone. "Outrage sparked on both sides of the debate over the emergence of the 'Others' today with the well publicised murder of Nick Bloodfang. The Werewolf was being held in captivity after the manslaughter of a young girl whose parents have chosen to keep anonymous and was today found dead in his cell. A group calling themselves Helsing have claimed responsibility on Youtube alongside posting a manifesto of Other persecution. According to this manifesto, this will be but the first of many deaths to come. We take you now to-". The voice stopped abruptly when Freddie threw the tea spoon at it, the universal command for animated objects in the flat to stop whatever they're doing.
Deftly tying his tie, Freddie swore quietly. Even in his own home, the seat of his power and independence, he didn't like to curse. But dammit all if every development in the outing of the Others hadn't made things worse and worse. The Unseelie trying to freeze Britain back into the dark ages, Vampires being chased away from bloodbanks (as if that's going to help anyone) and now this... It would try the patience of a saint.
RING RING RING RING RING
And speaking of patience... There are two phones in Faraday Heights 24B. One is Freddie's mobile, a stylishly modern contraption that's covered in arcane glyphs and eldritch scrawls that do everything from improve the battery life to guarantee free wifi, even underground. The other is an archaic lump of black plastic and ancient wiring that only rings when one person calls it. The ring is like the bells of doom, signalling the death of free will and the collapse of empire.
Freddie picked up the phone and said "Hi mum, how are you doing?"
Thereafter followed a brief exchange as well rehearsed as the script of any telemarketer. Cynthia Evergreen Hughes inquired after Freddie's health and happiness, Freddie told her he was fine. He asked how her and Marcus, his father, were doing, she told them they were tolerably well. She told him he really aught to be publishing another thesis on the myriad inaccuracies and inefficiencies of Berthault Batterton's treaties on the natural relationship between magic and electricity, he said that he'd get to work on it any day now. She asked him whether he had made any new friends in the same tone of voice she'd used when he was five, he said he could put many names to faces in the area. And so on and so on. He laughed when he was supposed to, she gave dry chuckles whenever he tried his hand at a joke. Upon leaving home, Freddie hoped that daily interrogations on his academic, physical and social well being would become a thing of the past. He had therefore been somewhat dismayed when his mum had presented him with a house warming present; a telephone that only she had the number to and enchanted to tell her whether he was in hearing distance of the phone.
When the conversation was finally done and Freddie had extracted himself from the verbal clutches of his mother, he gathered up his bag, keys and other affects before rapping twice on the wall by the front door and saying "But nothing's what it seems, please." At his words, the mass of animists tools, chalk, stardust, cutlery, cogs, gears and wires that occupied most of the floor and surface space in the flat flowed into a series of large plastic boxes which duly put on their own lids and slid under the bed. Just a precaution, should he be lucky (or should that be unlucky?) enough to have someone with him when he returned. He also had counter phrase to put everything back in the perfectly ordered mess he liked to work in.
His mood was still pretty grey when he stepped outside and locked the door. The combination of his mother's phone call and the awful news on the radio had done a good job of spoiling the honest satisfaction Freddie got from his morning wake up. He was therefore scowling when he turned around to see a statuesque beauty in a white towel and nothing else standing in the opposite doorway, some letters in her hand and a playful smirk on her lips. His next door neighbour, the ever enchanting and fantastically french Eve Lumiére, gave him a little wave.
"Ah Freddie, enchanté, how are you?"
"Uh... I'm good, yes, f-fine, good. You are? I mean, sorry, I mean, how're you?"
As most of his brain alternatively went into panic mode or melted in the heat of his embarrassment, he morosely reflected that it would be nice if every conversation was a well worked out as the one he constantly had with his mother. Even if you didn't like what was being said, at least you could say your parts without committing social suicide. | Basic Information
| Name |
"Ramiel but you must call me Uncle Rammie, mon chéri."
Ramiel or Uncle Rammie, as he insists people call him.
| Date of Birth |
"Ah, too old for you my darling."
Who knows? Around the Boulangerie there are pictures of him from long, long ago that he doesn't talk about.
| Gender |
"Does it matter? I am who I am."
His true form is essentially a genderless spirit though his mortal body would traditionally be considered male.
| Sexuality |
"Why, are you looking for tips? Then you came to the right place!"
Asexual panromantic, not that you'd know it from his bawdy jokes, knowledgeable tips and general air of sexual confidence.
| Occupation |
"Working hard or hardly working, non?"
Owns and manages a boulangerie in Edgetoun called Heavenly Treats.
| In-Depth Appearance |
"Uncle Rammie keeps himself healthy, even amidst all this sugar, I'm sure you've noticed."
Clean cut features that settle easily into a grin or laugh suit Ramiel well, he's very pleased with his earthly form. So pleased that he makes sure to keep it fit and healthy though not always clean shaven. He's experimented with a pencil moustache and a roughish five o'clock shadow but always gravitates back to a smooth jaw line within a week or two. There's something about the honest appearance of being well shaved that appeals to Ramiel, he thinks it makes him look more approachable. For the same reason, he likes to wear glasses when reading, despite having extremely good eyesight, because it humanises him. He prefers to dress in clothes that are comfortable, well fitting and slightly revealing. Shirts with the top three buttons undone and well cut v-neck jumpers are two of his favourites. For colour, Ramiel likes starched light whites offset by blacks or pastel paint colours like chalky reds and cloudy blues. Cheerful colours that make you think of boating on the Thames in the sunshine on a summer afternoon.
Perhaps Ramiel's best tool for putting people at their ease is his voice. It's like syrup to the ear, sweet and soothing. His accent is almost aggressively French, h's disappearing and r's going on forever. Though he's technically not French, he's spent enough time in France and speaks the language fluently enough to not really see it as lying to pose as a Frenchman. To be fair, he doesn't actually tell people he's French, they just hear his accent, notice the French words he uses in regular conversation and see that he runs a boulangerie and make their own assumptions.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Caring ♦ Friendly ♦ Bawdy ♦ Nosey ♦
"I'm just a man, just a baker. Here, have a croissant."
If you come into Heavenly treats, the first thing that hits you is the delicious smell of baked goods. The second things is the riot of pastel colours, from the marigold floor to the rainbow hued pastries shelf. The third thing will be the boisterous, heavily accented voice calling "Bonjour! Welcome to Heavenly Treats! Are you here for sweet food or some naughty gossip because, darling, I have plenty of both!" And you have entered the world of Ramiel. He'll leave one of the young employees to work the till, sit you down, pour you some of his delicious coffee, put an eclair in front of you and draw out your deepest, darkest secrets with a knowing smile and a cheeky wink. And you'll tell him, because the longer you sit there and talk, the more you feel a warmth in your chest and a smile on your lips. So you'll throw your secrets into the deep well of Uncle Rammie's twinkling eyes and leave the boulangerie feeling like you're walking on clouds. He'll welcome the next person into the shop, do the same thing again and never tell the secrets entrusted to his care. Instead, he deals in gossip that doesn't matter to anyone (what Sharon is naming her new child, what Damien's new tattoo will say, whether Lucy will enter the talent show), trading silly jokes with leather wearing bikers and woollen clad grannies alike.
That's Ramiel, Archangel of hope. To him, there's nothing more important than listening to you talk yourself into a better mood and nothing more enjoyable than trading in trivial gossip. Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves, he says as he puts another delectable baking masterpiece in front of you. One might think he's given up on the great fight between good and evil but in fact he's decided to... creatively reinterpret his own role in the battle. He's seen the hope of millions crash and burn, the dreams of the people crush them and the heroes of the past become the twisted villains of history. So now he works on changing the little things and spreading hope on a personal level. Happy people make a happy world and lovely cakes make happy people, though he'll help with more than cakes and a shoulder to cry on. Ramiel has more than a few contacts, old friends who owe him a favour or two, who are happy to offer a job to anyone recommended by Ramiel. So if you need help not thinking dark thoughts or paying your rent, come and talk to Ramiel, knowing that the only price is that you do the same for someone else when he asks you to.
He doesn't just deal in your anxiety and woe, though. Did you forget your fiancé's birthday? Don't worry, Ramiel is waiting for you in the shop with their favourite cake in their favourite colour with a personal message from you to them in icing. He knows you'll do better next time and that the two of you will be very happy together. Did your class run late, your bus get delayed, your lunch not quite happen and you're late for your night job? Don't sweat it, he's got your favourite sandwich in a bag and refuses payment until you're back on your feet. He doesn't forget your birthday or wedding anniversary, he remembers your favourite food and drink, what days you tend to run late and forget to eat. He'll do his best to smooth over the crinkles in your life and shake it off with a grin and a wink.
| Likes & Dislikes |
"I like what any cultured person likes and dislike what every sensible world citizen dislikes."
✔ Good food, fine drink and lovely company.
✔ Gossip, the more trivial the better.
✔ Making people feel happy.
✔ Romantic comedies, the cheesier the better.
✔ Karaoke, though his singing voice is awful.
✔ Making people blush with his jokes.
✔ Anyone who can have a laugh.
✔ Puns, the more awful and corny the better.
✔ Cigarettes, for full the image of the French Man.
✘ Cheap, mass produced fast food.
✘ Action films, too loud and too boring.
✘ People who can't keep a secret.
✘ Angels that judge other angels.
✘ Humans that judge other humans.
✘ People that takes themselves too seriously.
✘ Cigars, eugh!
| History |
"I've been here and there, done this and that. Now enough about me, let's talk about you. How are you feeling?"
What is the history of any Archangel? Ramiel was put on the earth, along with his six siblings, to champion the cause of his virtue in the lives of mortals. Hope was Ramiel's cause, the light in the hearts of all men and women that helps them walk when tired, fight when weary and laugh when all is lost. And, in the name of the divine, Ramiel was the light of hope for many, many years. Hero, champion, leader, healer, Ramiel trained many of them to bring hope to the people and did his duty as he saw it for a long, long time. For the most part, he played the role of mentor and teacher, occasionally stepping into the limelight to play a small but pivotal role.
But things didn't seem to change. Heroes became villains, dreams became burdens and hope never seemed to prevail. History paints a sad picture of hope being the crutch of the desperate and the fantasies of the delusional and one day it got to Ramiel. The inherent hopelessness of his task bore down upon him and he teetered on the brink of falling. Some might consider that he did. To Ramiel, however, he merely choose a new approach to the mission. Rather than work at an international level where the consequences of failure are dire for millions, he chose to work at a personal level, bringing hope to one person at a time and sending them out into the world to spread it.
About ten years ago, he opened the Heavenly Treats boulangerie in Edgetoun's centre and has done a brisk trade in pastries, cakes, bread, gossip and hope since then. It has a high staff turnover as Ramiel deliberately employs ne'er do wells who have no job or prospects, taking them under his wing, training them up and then sending them on to higher paying positions in more central bakeries and restaurants. Is his method the most efficient way of pursuing his mission? Perhaps not but those people whose lives have been touched by his words can attest to its effectiveness.
| Family |
"Ah, you are are all my family, darlings! Everyone that comes in, for cake or for chatter, you are all part of my clan!"
Ramiel has six siblings, created at the same time as him and given their own missions. Two live in Edgetoun, a Police Commissioner and a record store owner. Apart from them, Ramiel has no children or significant others. As he says, he considers almost everyone he talks to a family member and genuinely tries to help each and every one of them.
| Strengths |
"As long as I've a cigarette in one hand, a glass of wine in the other and Cherry by my side, I'm as strong as I need to be!"
Charming, empathic and good at making you feel good.
Kind, likes nothing more than lightening another's load in whatever way he can.
World class chef, baker and listener.
| Weaknesses |
"I can resist anything. Except temptation!"
Apathetic about large scale, world changing events.
Doesn't really listen to people saying "No, I'm fine" or "I want to handle things myself".
Doesn't know how to deal with negative emotions, prefers to ignore them.
Finds it hard to accept thanks or payment.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Memories – Waldeck
”All those souvenirs in my memories
got me going down in strike
all those souvenirs in my memories
got me ruining my soul.”
| House Number |
"Are you going to come and visit me? Should I lock my doors and windows or leave them wide open?"
Probably somewhere in Faircourt.
| Extra Information |
"No, no, no! I'm the only one that gets to know all the juicy secrets! You've got this the wrong way round!"
Has excellent hearing and vision, good at picking up small details and things said under one's breath.
Loves a good French wine but will settle for an inferior nation's wine in a pinch.
Blake Preston
"Her blogging and youtubeing are very nice, I sometimes watch a video now and then. She's a little angry though, maybe she's frustrated? I will have to talk to her about it and see how she feels, maybe she needs a partner."
Hmmmm... Why not her roommate Eve? Yes, yes, she's a demon, I know, but she seems like a nice girl and she is French. I will talk to Blake and then maybe put a word in Eve's ear.
Daniel Belson
"Daniel and Ehtan, poor boys. Have they resolved their ‘confusion’ about the girl yet?”
Ethan helps Daniel, I believe, and the both of them help Aila.
Alistair Queen
"Ah, Alistair. He works hard and plays hard and who is to judge? The little girl, she has been a good influence on him, I think, and I imagine that another constant in his life might not go amiss either."
But who? Well, he seems fond of Loki but I'm not sure that he is a positive influence. If I am not mistaken and I rarely am, he and Nikita have done the deed once or twice but feel no particular fondness for each other. One to think about.
Mariska Costas
"Mariska seems to follow my own heart, the heart of hopeless romantic. Perhaps she would get on well with Elsie? Hmmm... I will talk them both."
Nymphs, what beautiful creatures! I remember other times when their songs were not such rarities. But that was yesteryear, we must concern ourselves with the now.
Nikita Yankovsky
”Apathy can be a sexy quality, ask all those mopey teenage pop-stars. It is not a healthy though and leads nowhere pleasant.“
I have no doubt she could be made to feel rather more content with her existence than she currently is but she would need to want it.
Mordred Hame
”I haven’t seen him around here recently, his loss.“
If he wants Uncle Rammie’s help, he’ll need to show his face now and then.
John Taylor
”Ah, John. A tragedy in motion, like a car hurtling towards a wall. I can help many people in many ways but I do not think I can help him, not yet.”
In fact, I think there’s only one way that anyone will be able to help him.
Eve Lumière
”Another citizen of the republic on this dreary little island? Hourra! True, she is a little bit too quick to make friends but I have never been one to judge too harshly. She is always welcome to my little corner of heaven.”
And she is so prolific in her work! Spreading the joy in her way might not get the divine seal of approval but it gets mine.
Catharine Reid
”She used to come in here all the time but I have not seen her in a while. Perhaps she moved?“
A shame, such a nice girl.
Opallum
”Such fire! A very hot individual, as I am want to point out now and then.“
Some demons try to hide their nature from mortals, especially before we ’others’ were outed but not this Ifrit, he’d prefer everyone see him sit in the cold of winter with not a visible sign of discomfort. At least he seems satisfied with his position, otherwise I might have to step in.
Andrew Mordekai
”Merde, I am sweating! I think we must find him a friend before I succumb to temptation!”
True to tell, it will take something more than a beautiful man to make me ‘fall’ but he is still beautiful. Fire in the heart, fire in the soul. I am sure there are many others who would appreciate such a man.
Suriel White
”Sometimes, I think that I am wasting my time with these delicious delicacies, you know? Mostly I feel that way after talking to Suriel. They work so hard and help so many people. I hope they know the work they do is so ”
“Some angels preach or overreach, but some are kind and humble
Forgive and forget they say, no matter the trip or stumble”
Miles Catrose
”Sometimes little people want to take up the whole world, because it’s that or be overlooked. Miles is a good boy who needs to be a little more sure and a little less insecure.”
Pixies are capricious and arrogant but good hearted. I am sure there’s someone around the place who could calm his temper a little. I should talk to him, I need a haircut…
Yukiko Abe
”What is the song, it goes “Heeey, foxy lady!” It’s funny, non?”
Well, I thought it was funny. Her kind are old and tricksy but not necessarily bad. I am sure she will be careful with her partners.
Mona
”Sad girl, I hope she finds herself. Or at least finds the way forward.”
Ghosts, poor creatures. Humans fear death so much that sometimes they opt out of the natural process, whether they meant to or not. If she comes to the shop, I will see what I can do for her but I’m not sure she will. Some people do not want to move on.
Faron Romane
”Sometimes it’s hard to escape from one’s parent’s shadows, I think. You should meet my parent one day. Or rather, you certainly will, eventually.“
People call him a fool or an idiot and I wonder whether some parts of him believe them. I am glad he has moved out into independence but perhaps he needs someone to build his self confidence.
Nicolas Black
”It is traditional for a Frenchman to object to the police on principle, particularly one with no discretion and a suspicious nose.“
He wishes to do good, I think, and how can I object to that? He has the look of a man with bad things in his past, things that are yet to leave him alone. Unfortunately he’s also one of those people who would rather suffer quietly than find a therapist. I must think on this.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
”I had a friend named Fiacre who loved plants very much, a long time ago now. He taught me a few little tips, small things he passed on to me which maybe I should pass on to her.“
Witches are like brandies; some are good, some are bad but they all pack a punch! That said, Maggie seems like she cares about doing the right thing and working hard.
Megumi
”A charming young lady with excellent manners. I find children who shriek and scream for cakes very annoying, none of that from her.”
But then, most children have not been children for as long as her, have they? I am glad she has found Mister Queen, they will be good for each other.
Stefani Roche
”A sweet child but a little moody, non? Ah, teenagers, we all remember those days, non?“
Another young vampire? Sad creatures in many ways, because they age but do not grow, get old but can not mature. I am glad both her and Megumi have found friends and carers though.
Ari Amari
”You know, I don’t like cats very much. They hunt for fun and sleep when they could be working. Why not get a dog? They’re hard workers and don’t kill for enjoyment.“
I did not think there were any Sphinxes left and I can not say I am particularly pleased to be mistaken. Many a stupid traveller was picked from the teeth of a sphinx in the old days. Still, he seems to have turned over a new leaf here. Let us hope it is sincere.
Katharine Haynes
”A charming young lady but I haven’t seen her in my shop recently.“
Does she still live here?
Felix Underwood
”Librarians are important, a society without librarians is just a group of people with no idea where to file things.”
Talking to the dead is… complicated. Some of my fellow angels do not like it, they see it as disturbing those who have earned their rest. And while I see why they might think that, it gives hope to those who can talk to their loved ones. And who am I to stand in the way of that?
Elise Callaghan
”Quiet people, I know I should not resent them but I always feel like they’re ignoring me. Me!”
Sirens, the call on the dark sea that drags you down and down. I had never heard of one that doesn’t sing, until now. One to watch, I believe.
Claire O'Malley
”I don’t know much about her, perhaps she doesn’t know much about herself?“
We’ll see if she drops into the shop at some point.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
”Working with children is a noble calling. You build tomorrow by crafting the future’s builders.“
Like myself, Barachiel continues to fight the good fight but has put down the flaming sword.
Ethan Cooper
”Ouff! What a beefcake! I wonder if he has a sweet tooth…”
Lives with a demon and a werewolf but knows neither of their natures? He’s either dense or kindly doesn’t pry. Either way, I imagine he is a positive influence on both of them.
Alfie Liau
”My only rival in the field of sweet treats for the people of Edgetoun! I shall have the better of him yet!“
He seems to be a good sort, I hope he continues to enjoy chocolate more than blood.
Astrid Kitchener
”Artists, they work much better when they have little to eat!“
She seems more accepting of ‘others’ than her father, as always seems to be the way. Generations upon generations, each one struggling to try and make the next accept their ideals. She is a hopeful step, however.
Michael Harel
”A handsome man, non? Well be careful what you say about him, he’s my… he’s an old friend.“
Brother, we are more alike now than ever before. I wonder how the one above thinks of us, working down here in the squalor of humanity. I hope he understands why, if he even thinks about us at all.
Aila Atleo
”A lovely girl, she buys her bread from me and laughs at my jokes! And as we all know, that’s all you have to do to make Rammie your friend for ever.“
Her past is fraught and fractured but she seems to be happy here. A job, friends and two almost fathers. Let us hope things stay that way.
Emerson Maddox
”Lawyers, pah! If they are defending you, you’d better hope you paid them more than the prosecution did.“
He seems arrogant and sharp tongued, two qualities I can’t stand. I do hope he comes into the shop one day, so I can find out a little more about him.
Talia Halbrook
”I haven’t seen her around for a while, I wonder how she is.“
Demons, they seem to be everywhere these days.
Loki Van Stenberg
”A handsome man and we all like having those around, do we not? I am not sure he is one half so pretty under the surface.“
In fact, I am certain he is not. Were I forced to guess, I would hazard he lives off others in more ways than drinking blood, probably through theft or other criminal activities. Vampires, too many of them are the monsters from the night to remember those who aren’t.
Freddie Hughes-Jackson
”We all like books but people can give conversation too! I think young Freddie forgets that sometimes.“
A good boy who studies hard and wants nothing more than to be left alone to do his magic, what could be better than that? Of course, I still like making him blush when he comes in for a little treat.
Liam Woodsworth
”Another child with apathy issues, another day.“
Dhampires, yet more victims of the plague of vampirism.
Aiden Phillips
”A pretty boy, he can take my temperature whenever he wants!”
Another vampire, though this one seems a little different to Queen and Stenberg. He has a secret, that much I’m sure of, but I doubt it is a dark one.
Ryan Croft
”Ah, our hard working police commissioner! I’ll stand him a drink of coffee and doughnut whenever he comes this way.”
I think the end may be coming, the reckoning might be on the horizon. And when the rapture comes, I wonder if we will stand together or apart, brother. Justice and vengeance, rarely do they inspire hope.
Eternity Illuria Loveless
”What does she do? Night crawling? I think we are thinking of different things when you say that, mon ami.”
Fae, I cannot say I like them. They are outside of the jurisdiction of Heaven and have no interest in the morality of humanity.
Patrick Kershner
”In every group, there’s the one who’s quiet because they know what happens when they open their mouths, sadly.”
And in every pack, there’s a runt. At least he is now part of two packs, the wolves and the police. And the latter seem a little more ardent in protecting their members.
Nicodem Kaminski
”What a face, what a voice! I’ve clearly got a challenger for Edgetoun’s most attractively exotic older man.”
A vampire that files down his fangs and is accepted by Raguel is more than a curiosity, he is a minor miracle. One to watch indeed.
Anastasia Psomas
”She looks like she certainly needs a good night’s sleep and a healthy meal.”
Phoenixes, tragic beings. They burn on and on, no end in sight and no respite on the horizon.
James Bright
”He doesn’t come over to the shop anymore. A shame, I was considering employing him.”
I hope he finds his killer and his peace, he deserves it.
Naomi Ishiguro
”A little strange, non? You don’t feel quite safe near her? There’s a reason for that.”
Were I a younger being, still full of wrath and righteous fury, I would fall upon her with Heaven’s own might. Now… I only hope to steer her prey away from her.
”Kei”
”Happiness is good, whatever the source. It’s net gain for the world, I think.”
Happy fae are not always happy because something good has happened, however.
Zoey Alston
”How many bartenders can Edgetoun possibly need?”
And how many witches? I hope there’s not some sort of occult or alcoholic conspiracy going. |
1,031 | 14 | 46 | 2,699 | 1,255 | Aila Atleo
Location: Faraday Heights 26B – High Street and New (on her way to work).
Interacting With: Danny/Dad 1 , Ethan/Dad 2
Aila sat alone on the corner of the couch. Curled in on herself thinking thoughts she knew a therapist would tell her to keep from her mind if she had ever bothered to see one. Until suddenly, lips brushed against the top of her head and they pulled her out of her trance like a puppet on a string – Danny always knew the small ways to make Aila stop thinking so much. She let her legs go and sat on the couch like a normal human being for a few moments as Danny retrieved his coffee.
"You eat, yet, Buttercup?" Danny called from behind her in the kitchen.
“Oh, yeah that’s alright Danny you don’t have to make me anything I had a granola bar.” Aila said giving her first pseudo-father a small smile.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Her second hunk of a father-
A therapist would probably comment on that as well now that she thought of it. But all the same he strode out of his room as confident as usual.
For a moment everything was wonderful. Ethan had started performing one of his soliloquies about making snow forts and having snowball fights. It was nice hearing about him and Danny in the past, it made Aila wonder how long they had really known each other and if they had really known each other. Danny knew that Aila was an other and she suspected about as much from him all things considering, like his lack of reaction to the news. She suspected most people of being other. Human’s like Ethan, they felt so rare, so pure… And then the news decided to speak up.
“So we’ve heard the source of this storm is the ‘Unseelie Fae’. Does that mean that everyone who dies in this storm today should blame them as well? Say someone gets into a car accident, a child wanders out and dies of exposure, who is to blame? Usually we’d blame it on nature. But we know better now.”
Ow.
As Ethan sipped out of his ‘Aila luvs u’ mug with an odd cut-out of his face on it and drank his warm coffee, he pondered. Did he know anyone who wasn’t human. Did he know any monsters, animals, beasts, murders, serial killers, monstrosities…
Well of course, Aila - he knows you.
“I gotta head to work guys.” Aila said quietly sitting up from her spot on the couch and turning to Danny with a shaky jaw. “You two stay out of trouble today, I’ll pick up dinner on the way home – don’t worry I know the favourites.” She said warmly giving Danny a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, the same to Ethan. “And Danny,”
“Those snowball fights mean a lot to Ethan so if you cheat I’m gonna give you a time out when I get home.” She said with a sheepish grin as she slithered out the door grabbing her winter coat on the way out.
Unfortunately, the smiles Danny and Ethan worked so hard to build up, too hard, didn’t last long when she was walking in the cold alone.
The cold in Britain was typically comparable to Canada, but it didn’t get quite as bad on the worst days. Days like this were actually rather common in the Canadian winters. She attempted to find premade footholds in the snow, stepping into them making her gait while she walked rather clunky. Days like today made her seriously consider purchasing an iPod, it might be a worthwhile investment for a girl like her.
She wondered briefly for a moment, would Ethan still treat her the same when he found out she had murdered people. As a werewolf no less? No, he probably wouldn’t. She knew she was living in a glass house, but the problem was it was somewhere she felt accepted.
Why wasn’t there a saying for what to do when you live in a glass house that’s cracking? Do you get out, or do you enjoy how beautiful it is despite it all?
Eve Lumière
Location: Faraday Heights 24A (Still a little chilly – maybe not hell)
Interacting With: Freddie , Blake
At first glance and knowing who she was, one might assume Blake was a very personable person. She was, but in the morning it was on need to know only. While Eve did hate mornings, she also took great pleasure in being a pleasure to be around and as such, it came across that she liked mornings.
“Blake my darling, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, besides you got me an in – our landlord’s quite the looker you know.” Eve mused poking at the air towards Blake. She giddily stood up and made her way to the kitchen.
“Mr. Queen, if you could just show me – a poor girl how to fix this faucet.” She said mockingly feigning innocence. She laughed quietly to herself before giving up the charade. A much more serious tone made residency in her voice afterwards.
“You must be busy this morning, what with this ‘Helsing’ on the loose.” She said, venom dripping from her words. “I don’t quite like the idea of people seeking other people out like it’s a fucking witch trial” Eve said walking in front of the window by Blake’s left. “If we shoot them and they don’t die they’re a vampire, if they do we get to bury them like the person they were.” Eve mocked pointing a finger gun at the window.
“I’m sure you’ve got lots of fan mail from yesterday darling, I’ll pick it up.” Eve said dropping her act and returning to the same sultry Eve that haunted her apartment. She made her way outside and quickly took a trip down the elevator. She didn’t really care that she was in her towel, but to make appearances she put a hand on it. ‘God forbid it should fall.’
She was correct – of course, mail by the truck loads must’ve been in their box. She swiftly grabbed the top thirty or so and left the others to wait their time.
“You have to make an example of these letters, strike fear into the heart's of the others.” She thought to herself. As she made her way back up to her room she found herself sifting through them – perhaps someone wanted to get in touch with her and not Blake for once. An ex lover, a future lover, a current lover, tax returns, anything?
Freddie exited his room, probably to do the same. Eve perked up, speaking of future lovers…
“Ah Freddie, enchanté, how are you?” She said in her ‘you don’t know me yet’ voice.
"Uh... I'm good, yes, f-fine, good. You are? I mean, sorry, I mean, how're you?"
“Oh sweetheart that’s so kind, I’m doing very well, no thanks to these Unseelie Fae though.” She said shooting a playful glance to the outdoors. “You take care of yourself, be sure to pop by if you need anything.” She said turning to her door but keeping his gaze. “‘Revoir!” Eve said in her disjointed Quebecois.
“Boy across the way’s pretty cute.” She said dropping her cute French voice when the door had closed behind her and Blake was awaiting her mail.
“They’re all for you, there’s some more downstairs as well.” She said taking her seat back on the coach. “I might have a little cat nap soon, you’re welcome as ever to join you know.” She said in her sing songy voice she usually teased Blake with. | Eve Lumière.
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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
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 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."
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’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."
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."
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. "
#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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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. "
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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."
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."
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."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"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."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"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."
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."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"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."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"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."
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."
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."
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. |
1,032 | 14 | 47 | 721 | 234 | Opallum
Location: Sitting outside Avalon Point.
Interacting With: No one.
What an absolutely miserable morning. Opallum's search for food in the various dumpsters and trash cans scattered throughout the entirety of Edgetoun, and even some other farther off districts of London, had been an utter failure. The yield rate for energy put into seeking food and actually acquiring it was highly unfavorable at that moment, and, as a bonus, he now smelled like burning refuse. Well, he always did smell like burning wood, but the trash of London's citizenry succinctly booted the "wood" out of that. The upside was that the snow might melt and wash the nose-scrunching aroma away, but the ifrit could only hope.
Now, he sat on a bench (again) with his arms folded across his chest and back slumped against the cross rails with a considerably deep frown. He stared forwards at an apartment's wall with furrowed brows. The magnitude of his boredom was beginning to surpass his innate need to eat. Its been -- Seventy? Eighty-two? Eighty-four? -- Eighty-four years since I came into this world, his conscience began. And this hassle will never become less tiresome. Briefly, Opallum pondered on why he had never been able to simply amass enough funds to afford himself a home or an apartment. The majority of individuals he had met in his life were regular civilians perhaps fifty or more years younger than him, and even they had a place to call home.
Then again, he recalled that most had life set up for them from the get-go. He couldn't remember a time when he met an ifrit who had just . . . "materialized" into this Earthen plane out of nowhere and managed to establish a relatively stable lifestyle, complete with a decent-looking home, ample cash, and a job.
Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he had even met another of his kind. He most certainly knew that there were more spread across the globe, but entities like him were rare enough. See, finding a djinn to "grant you wishes" (which is a total myth, by the way, believing that a powerful enough genie would entrust an incredibly destructive or beneficial wish to a human) is an arduous task as it is. But then try finding an ifrit, which isn't as bountiful as the already scarce normal genies. Additionally, it was London; since it's a major global city, there was little doubt in Opallum's heart that there might be another djinn about. But from what intel he could gather from the spoken and written word over the span of eighty-four years, his kin were more prominent in the Middle East and Northeastern Africa.
"Hm."
Maybe some of them were kings. Ifrits were known for their strength and cunning . . . And also their tendency to be overtly hostile and aggressive towards humans and naturally wicked, ruthless creatures. Maybe it had to do with how they were raised, since Opallum didn't conform to that mold. Having no parents to hammer the culture of the djinn into him can certainly contribute to this difference in behavior, of course.
Once he assumed a more neutral expression and relaxed his initially tensed shoulders, the ifrit continued to sit and wonder. | "Frankie Knuckles was something else, I'm telling you."
Opallum
Demon - 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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.
| 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."
| 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.
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?"
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."
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."
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.
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."
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
I do like people, but he's probably the last person I want to hang around.
Yukiko Abe
"Not sure who that is."
Should meet her at some point.
Mona
"Huh?"
No goddamn clue who that is.
Faron Romane
"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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
No one I know all too well.
Elise Callaghan
"Sorry, not a clue."
Nothing up in my head about her . . .
Claire O'Malley
"Uhm . . . Eh."
Yeah, no. I don't know this girl.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Some posh-looking fellow. All I know."
There's that "-iel" again. Fishy, fishy . . .
Ethan Cooper
"Not a clue."
Seriously, I don't know this person . . .
Alfie Liau
"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. |
1,033 | 14 | 48 | 1,552 | 2,234 | Ari Amari
Location: 1224 Lake Street
Interacting With: Himself, some cats, and out of date milk
Ari's morning began with the dulcet tones of Bach, and the not-so dulcet tones of Apollo, meowing in his ear.
"Is is that time already?" He murmured to his cat sleepily, blindly pawing through the air until his hand found Apollo's silky fur, stroking the cat into silence. His other hand reached to his head, wiping the sleep from his eyes until he could bare to open them both fully.
Now awake - somewhat - Ari reached from his phone, turning off the alarm (He couldn't understand why people woke themselves up with jarring bells, when classical music does such a good job.), and opening up his browser to see if the day yielded anything of interest for him.
And oh, he was not neglected on that front.
"Mortals First? Oh, you poor humans. You never seem to learn." He sighed, shaking his head as he watched the "Helsing" video. Never had he encountered creatures that thrived so from conflict - no wonder the old Gods enjoyed toying with them so much.
Still watching, he sat up in bed, scrolling through the various comments before growing tired of it - the story would be all that was talked about for days now, so the rest of it could wait until he'd had some breakfast.
Upon throwing some clothes on - and some cold water across his still weary eyes - Ari got to work feeding his three cats. Artemis has obviously just killed a very small mouse, and placed it by his bare feet proudly as he poured cat food into the bowls.
"Aww, we're still learning, aren't we Arty? Who's the cutest little huntress in all of London?" He cooed as he tickled the back of her ears, ushering forth purrs from the ginger tabby. If Talia had been here, there likely would have been some expression of disgust over his treatment of his babies cats - but then again, she was just as much a cat person as he.
"Ra, off the counter. We've talked about this." Shooing the youngest of the three away from the cereal, he picked the box up, followed by milk... which, upon opening it, ushered forth a sour stench. Wrinkling his nose, he glanced at the congealed mess of off milk inside. Lovely. No cereal, then. And with a disappointing lack of any form of bacon or eggs in the house, meant he had to go out for breakfast.
Which normally he wouldn't mind, but the Fae just had to make his morning more complicated with their little hissy fit, didn't they?
"UUGHHHHHHHHHHHH. God's be damned. Guys, enjoy your kibble. Daddy has to go and find his own food." He sighed dramatically, grabbing his coat with a quick wave to his cats. Apollo yowled loudly in response, Ra was half-sitting in, half-eating his food, and Artemis was eating out of Apollo's bowl before her brother noticed.
The outside was colder than it looked, which did wonders for Ari's mood.
"Bloody Faeries. Always making matters worse for everyone. This is certainly going to make the humans like us better." He complained quietly as he walked, breath rolling forth from his mouth like fog coming in from the sea. "Fucking Faeries. Hopefully the coffee shop has the heating on." With that, Ari made his way towards The Early Bean. Who needed Starbucks anyway?
Stefani Roche
Location: Cosy Central
Interacting With: Yuki
Stef had been digging through one of her bedroom drawers, wondering if she'd somehow left her mits with the pasta dishes in the kitchen last night when Yuki yelled through.
"Thanks - where did I leave them this time?" She asked with a grin, grabbing her hat before leaving, placing it haphazardly over her hair as she took her mits from Yuki. They were hella cute - had little paw prints on them and everything. After another swift glance outside, it saw the snow wasn't letting up; looks like they were definitely taking the Tube this morning. She'd grown to put up with the underground trains, simply for necessary reasons - she couldn't constantly be scared of them, because she and Yuki wouldn't be able to go anywhere otherwise. So, Stef dealt with the hot, cramped spaces of the tube with a smile on her face - however, that nonchalance was not passed over quite as easily to other confined areas. Thankfully, she didn't have much interaction with spaces such as that.
"We ready to go?" She asked Yuki, zipping up her coat. | Stefani Roche
Vampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Stefani “Stef” Roche
Previously Isabella di Diavolo
| Date of Birth |
Born 12th August 2003
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.
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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| 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!"
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."
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."
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."
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"
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."
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."
Apparently Nick’s been working on his case. I hope he finds out what happened soon. |
1,034 | 14 | 49 | 1,621 | 202 | Location: The Early Bean
Interacting With: Barachiel
Whenever Miles came to The Early Bean in the morning, he made it a point to waste as much of the barista’s time as possible. It wasn’t because he had nothing better to do, no. In fact, he had quite a number of things on his agenda, like getting to work, first and foremost; but alas, as luck would have it, the barista currently manning the counter was the one who insisted on spelling his name wrong every single time, and his dignity demanded he retaliate. The first few times it happened, Miles simply chalked it off as a careless mistake. Maybe he mumbled, maybe the guy couldn’t hear him properly over the din of the morning crowd - whatever the reason, he didn’t see the point in kicking up a fuss about it. People made mistakes, and that’s just the way it is. As time went on, however, the continued mistakes slowly began to grate on Miles’ nerves. How does one even find this many ways to misspell a name? This morning’s rendition was particularly creative, and he would’ve almost been impressed at the feat if he weren’t so peeved.
The pixie’s eyes narrow as he stares at the offending sharpie-inked letters on his coffee cup. M-Y-L-E-Z? Really? Who did he think he was? A scene kid from the early 2000s? In another life, he might’ve appreciated their rainbow-hued aesthetic, but he did not fancy being associated with such a shameful period of human history. Even he had standards, he’ll have you know.
…Anyway, where were we again?
Oh right, petty revenge.
Miles feels his irritation ignite a fire at the pit of his stomach, and he returns to his task to quell his frustration. Stepping up to the display fridge, he takes a dramatic sip of his cappuccino before motioning the barista over, a false smile plastered on his face. He knew - better than anyone - that with the threat of a reprimand from the manager, he wouldn’t dare ignore him.
“Hey, Ollie,” Miles almost hisses out the name, which really was rather impressive, given that there were no S’s present in ‘Ollie’. Truth be told, he had come up with a more fitting epithet for the ginger-haired barista a few days back, but he decides to keep it to himself, for the sake of public decency. He didn’t have to resort to such means to get back at a disrespectful brat, and he found that most of the time, passive-aggressiveness proved to be much more effective in the long run. “I think I want to try something new today. What’s good on the menu?”
“Well, today’s special is our homemade strawberry cheesecake-”
“Yikes, never mind. I don’t like strawberries. You should make raspberry cheesecake, raspberries are always good. What about that?” Miles questions, pointing at some kind of salad, pointedly ignoring the little label that indicated just what it was.
“Autumn kale salad.”
Miles’ expression twists into one of disgust, and he declares his revulsion verbally as well. “Ugh, kale. Truly one of God’s greatest mistakes.”
“Might I recommend your usual-”
“Cauliflower quiche?” Miles cuts Ollie off before he could go any further, pressing up even closer to the glass display. “Who in their right mind would put cauliflower in a quiche?”
The two’s exchange continues in such a manner for a whopping six-and-a-half minutes, and Miles only decides to put an end to it with a ‘you know what? I’ll just have my usual’ when the barista appeared sufficiently aggravated. Sure, it was paltry payback, but didn’t people always say it was the little things that made life worth living?
With a blueberry muffin in hand, and two coffees in the other, Miles starts to leave, though not before catching sight of a vaguely familiar face amongst the crowd. He felt positive that he’d seen the suited fellow around before, but somehow, his name escaped him.
Miles must’ve looked dumbstruck as he just stood there, rooted to the spot as the gears in his mind turn furiously to put a name to the face. It was something unorthodox, he remembers that from a conversation with his landlord, and it started with a ‘B’.
And then, all of a sudden, a metaphorical lightbulb flicks on, and it almost feels like he’d just won the lottery.
“Hey, Barachiel, right?” Miles waltzes closer to the man, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I think we might be neighbours.” | | 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?
| 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).
| 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.”)
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 3B
| Extra Information |
- |
1,035 | 14 | 50 | 2,699 | 1,255 | Yukiko Abe
Location: Leaving Cosy Central :(
Interacting With:Stef
Yuki giggled gently tossing Stef her paw mittens. “I don’t know how you did it this time, but they were up on top of the fridge.” She said pointing to the barely surmountable fortress that was the refrigerator. She quickly retrieved her belted coat, tying it around herself. “We’re going to want to take the train today.” Yuki said slowly – Stef hated enclosed spaces more than most people, but she had generally gotten used to the train.
“Yup, I think we’re about ready to go.” She said opening the door for Stef, closing it behind them both. They quickly made their way through the storm and down into the subway station. Yuki was rather adept at navigating Edgetoun’s underground – it seemed like knowledge that was important to know just in case it ever came up.
“You know, where I was born we didn’t have stuff like this.” Yuki said absent-mindedly to Stef as they walked through the tunnels navigating their way to the station in which they would board their train. “When I was a young girl I remember my dad had wanted me to learn how to ride on a horse for transportation – that makes me feel old.” She mused stepping around the cracks in the ground but still keeping pace with Stef.
“So after we get home today I’ve got some things I need to go over with you, but to make sure you don’t hate it that much we can pick up a Pizza to share on the way home – or if you want something else I’m fine with it.” Yuki said turning to Stef and tapping her nose briefly. “Alright come on, the worst part of this will be done in no time and we’ll be making jokes with John in a snow storm soon.” She said gently placing a hand on Stef’s shoulder as they entered the train.
She felt bad for the girl. She knew what it was like to have irrational fears. Once in her life she had a lover who had decided to take her to a zoo. In this zoo, they had bears. Yuki did not like bears. But alas, they were behind bars, cages – where those vicious monsters belong. Now Yuki did not nor does she now support zoos, but when one type of animal is a one-ton mass murdering bear, certain measure should be taken. Well when Yuki went to this zoo one bear in particular thought he was much smarter than the rest of the bears and he must’ve figured out that Yuki was a Kitsune. Well, let’s just say the bear rampaged in his cage and ever since Yuki has been irrationally afraid and rather offensive towards bears.
Her fear wasn’t exactly as bad as Stef’s, she didn’t have to ride a bear to work each morning, but she understood it. When Yuki had decided to adopt Stef she had visited the library, read parenting books. That was the most common place advice.
Understand them, and one day they will understand you.
Yuki felt her heartrate pick up again and she knew Stef could hear it. Vampire senses tingling or whatever Stef says.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about your request to get a pet.” Yuki said temptingly to Stef.
Of course distract her with a pet!
“If you can save up some money, and you promise you’ll take care of it, then we can have the conversation.” Yuki said grinning widely at Stef as the train pulled into their stop. | Eve Lumière.
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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
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 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."
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’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."
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."
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. "
#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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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. "
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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."
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."
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."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"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."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"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."
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."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"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."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"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."
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."
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."
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. |
1,036 | 14 | 51 | 0 | 94 | Katie Haynes
Location: Faraday Heights 27B
Interacting With: Andy , Claire
Katie was relieved by Andrew's reaction. Yes, he'd gotten a bit heated, but what he was saying was reasonable. She was glad that someone else agreed. She smiled in response to his apology. "No need to apologize, I've gotten fairly passionate about things I've been talking about before, almost threw a chair on accident once..." She trailed off, looking thoughtful for a moment before muttering a bit more. "Almost threw a chair on purpose once too... But anyway, it's a natural reaction."
Realizing what time it was, she quickly scarfed down her remaining eggs and toast and washed it down with the rest of her coffee while nodding in affirmation to Andy. If her boss knew she made coffee like that she probably wouldn't have a job as a barista, but that was the way she liked it, and at least she was fairly skilled at making coffee the way other people liked it too, though she couldn't do latte art nearly as well as Andy could. She swallowed quickly and thanked Claire for the eggs as she walked to the door and shoved her feet into her boots. It was cold out there, she'd need to wrap up pretty warmly.
As she put on an extra sweater and a scarf, she realized she hadn't yet thanked Andrew. "Thanks for making the coffee by the way, I'd probably be a zombie right now without it." As she said it, Katie began to wonder whether zombies were real as well. They weren't your typical kind of creature you read about in fairy tales and myths, but they were what could be described as supernatural... depending on the type. This set her on the path of wondering whether dragons were real, they were more common in such stories and were widely acknowledged in myths and legends all around the world, surely they had to be real at some point, though maybe they were hunted to extinction or something. It would certainly be interesting to find out. She didn't want to ask though, it just seemed like a rude thing to do. Besides, if zombies were real they'd probably have been noticed a long time ago.
She pulled on her jacket and hat as she returned from her thoughts to the real world. "At the very least, we shouldn't end up getting bored today." She remarked to Andy about the probable conditions at the coffee shop. "I hope people aren't getting too tense in there."
Talia Halbrook
Location: The Early Bean
Interacting With: Barachiel , Miles
Well, well, well, it seemed there was some entertainment to be had today. A young man whose name appeared to by Mylez, or Myles, or Miles, or something of that nature, judging by the cup, was causing a little bit of consternation at the front of the line. Talia smiled in anticipation of some kind of blow-up, but it didn't happen. How disappointing. Still, there was material she could work with. This could prove to be interesting. As she waited for her coffee to be made, she watched him head over to an occupied table. The man sitting there seemed to radiate an atmosphere of wholehearted diligence. Her smile widened slightly, this mixture could prove quite dramatic. And the name the boy uttered to the man at the table didn't sound modern, in fact, it sounded downright ancient...
Well, Barachiel was obviously an angel, that much was certain. Just the kind of angel that Talia liked to mess with from the looks of him. She could feel a mischievous spark growing into a flame as she took her coffee, name spelled correctly as always, and a slice of strawberry cheesecake over to the table where the two were sitting.
"Do you mind if I sit with you? There's not much room elsewhere." She asked them, setting her coffee and cheesecake down without waiting for an answer. As she relaxed into the third chair at the table, she focused her arrogance-enhancement energy on the young man whose name was misspelled. He already seemed to have plenty, it would be entertaining to see what would happen if he had a bit more. She wondered if he would protest to her butting into the conversation with the angel, or whether his reaction would be welcoming. Arrogance was nothing if not unpredictable when you least expected it. In any case, the result would be better than just sitting around with nothing to do.
"Quite chilly outside, isn't it? The Unseelie Fae should do something useful and give us moderate warmth instead of freezing us all to death." | Katherine Haynes
Human
Basic Information
| Name |
Katherine “Katie” Annalise Haynes
| Date of Birth |
November 13, 1998
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Part-time barista at a small coffee shop, The Early Bean. Full-time college student.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Katie is only slightly taller than average, but the way she carries herself makes her seem taller and her presence demands attention. She faces life with her head held high and her shoulders back, seemingly ready for whatever life throws at her. Her voice adds to this effect; it is calm but firm, sweet but knowing.
Her face has a certain maturity to it that is often absent in others her age. She has striking light green eyes which can seem a bit gray or even occasionally blue, depending on the colors she’s wearing. Katie has thick, wavy, brown hair with natural reddish highlights. Her pale skin is covered with light freckles, which give her a sort of ageless look, as if she could be older or younger than what her real age is.
The part of her appearance that she is most proud of, however, is the one part she had the most choice in. Katie has a full-back tattoo of large wings. While this tattoo is generally covered up, it gives her a sense of confidence in some strange way.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Open-minded ♦ Loyal ♦ Kind ♦ Confident ♦
Katie is the kind of person who likes to speak her mind. She likes to think carefully about what she’s saying and makes an effort to truly listen to others instead of just trying to think of a retort when discussing clashing opinions with others. She does not hide her opinions from anyone, even if she knows that a person who is close to her will likely disagree. However, she will do her best to explain her point in the most inoffensive way possible. It is her opinion that hiding one’s true feelings is unhealthy for both the person doing it and the people they’re hiding from.
She doesn’t have a lot of friends, she prefers to grow close to only a few individuals, but she has acquired quite a few friendly acquaintances. Katie loves to meet new people and is friendly and polite to anyone she meets, as long as they aren’t straight-out assholes. She believes that respect is earned, and anyone who treats other people as less than themselves does not deserve the time of day. Her reaction towards such people is worsened if they treat her friends badly.
Even though she is generally confident in her choices and opinions, she does her best to keep from becoming arrogant. She truly has a desire to learn and will accept that she is wrong when she really is. She loves to debate, but her goal is not to win these debates, but rather to determine what the truth is. She is a straight-A student who pushes herself to go above and beyond the expectations set before her.
The recent discovery of the Others worries Katie, naturally. She has no idea what the extent of their abilities is, but it also excites her. The knowledge that there is so much more out there than she previously thought makes her wonder about the endless possibilities. While she is war of the idea of strange creatures whose abilities are shrouded in myth and legend, she also hopes that humans and Others can learn to co-exist. She realizes that not all of what is said of them can be true, and that they’ve managed to live hidden among humans for centuries, so at least some of them must be somewhat peaceful.
Although most of the time, she is a well put-together individual, Katie is recovering from general anxiety disorder and other issues caused by past trauma. It is not entirely uncommon for her to relapse into this state, causing her to become temporarily terrified of social settings and confrontation. Aside from this, she is also prone to depression and will sometimes go into full hermit-mode; shutting herself in her bedroom for days on end, emerging only to eat. She eventually makes it past these moments, but she will be much more reserved and cautious after such an incident. Sometimes these events are triggered by specific stimuli, but most of the time the reason for her relapses remain unknown.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Rainy Days
✔ Friendly people
✔ Snow
✔ Reading
✔ Drawing
✔ Wild adventures
✔ Debates
✔ Kittens
✔ Calm music
✔ Swimming
✔ Painting
✔ Singing
✘ Assholes
✘ Snakes
✘ Spiders
✘ Bugs
✘ Anxiety
✘ Mouth germs
✘ The color yellow
| History |
Katie was a fairly normal child in her younger years. She had loving parents, and one older sister with whom she was very close. When she was six, her family moved to the United States. While her family took a while to adjust, Katie immediately loved it. She went to school for the first time and made lots of new friends, it was exciting and a new adventure to her. Even as a young child, she loved doing new things and going to new places. However, a few years later, disaster struck.
When she was twelve, Katie and her family were on their way to a play at her school when they were hit by a drunk driver. It drove straight into the driver’s side of the car, instantly killing her father and fatally injuring her sister. Katie and her mother survived with several broken bones between the two of them, her sister died about 3 hours after the crash from severe blood loss.
As soon as they were able to travel, Katie’s mother moved them back to London for the support of their family. The move back was difficult for the young girl. She had spent half of her life in America and didn’t remember the majority of her relatives. She was also depressed because of the death of her father and sister, which made her want to be alone, but she was constantly forced into conversations with concerned aunts, uncles, cousins, and so forth. This made it insanely difficult for her to adjust. She became increasingly antisocial as she was forced to interact with more and more people she didn’t know.
As if things weren’t bad enough, her mother decided to get remarried just a little over a year after the accident. Katie and her stepfather didn’t get along at all, and it wasn’t her fault either. She tried to accept him, even though she still wasn’t over the death of her father, but he was abrasive and arrogant. He constantly criticized her, and made homophobic remarks the first time she brought a girlfriend home with her. He was an all-around asshole, and Katie’s mother just wouldn’t listen to her when she complained. Her mother was blind to his faults, she only saw what she wanted to see and believed what she wanted to believe about him. This further hindered Katie’s grieving process.
She developed all new problems as a result of her stepfather’s emotionally abusive behavior. Eventually it got out of hand enough that her mother took notice and got her into therapy. The therapy helped quite a bit, but the biggest improvement was when she moved out at the age of eighteen and went to live with one of her aunts. She soon moved to Faraday Heights for a shorter commute to college. Since then, she has mostly become the person she wants to be, although she has relapses more often than she would like to admit.
| Family |
William Haynes, Father (deceased)
Lillian Gathesford, Mother
Thomas Gathesford, Stepfather
Sarah Haynes, Sister (deceased)
| Strengths |
Confident
Persuasive
Amiable
| Weaknesses |
Random bouts of anxiety
Secret insecurities
Often suffers from mild carpal tunnel syndrome
Not very physically strong
Becomes very stubborn and blunt when depressed or anxious
Prone to bouts of depression
The Other
| Theme Song |
Drop - Ludovico Einaudi
| House Number |
Faraday Heights 27B |
1,037 | 14 | 52 | 2,206 | 79 | Barachiel Eamon
Location: The Early Bean
Interacting With: Miles , Talia
Barachiel’s face couldn’t help but frown as the whole coffee shop stopped to look at Miles’ display. The line had gotten nearly twice as long in the time Miles finally had chosen his ’usual’ order. Clearly the youth had to be upset about something because in the angel’s experience no one just caused this much trouble for the heck of it. But if he was upset it couldn’t possibly tell what it was about as Miles never did get around to a point. The poor barista was clearly flustered and brimming with annoyance by the time the pixie was done with his sport, and Barachiel was thinking about going over and saying a few words to help calm the red haired gentleman down.
It probably would have if Miles didn’t just stop in the middle of the room and stare right at Barachiel. Finding itself surprising uncomfortable beneath the young man’s unbreaking gaze, it looked over both its shoulders to make sure there wasn’t something there that the young man was staring at. Nope, nothing there. No other explanation than the young lad looking at Barachiel. The angel was unsure of the correct social response in this situation so it decided to close up its folder on Dylan stare calmly back at the pixie. This seemed to do the trick as Miles then began to walk over and announce they were neighbors. An announcement that quickly cleared the uneasiness the angel had felt before. A smile parted its lips as it extended a hand out as it raised out of its seat. A proper action in introductions it found. “Ah of course. Though most call me Alexander.”
And just when it thought it had the unusual situation under control, the young lady you virtually irradiated confidence walked over and sat down. Now the angel had been on this Earth long enough to understand that sitting down at a strangers table was far from normal. Looking for an explanation as it looked down at the female blinking twice thought crossed its mind that it might have simply forgotten who this person was. Looking back at Miles again the smile still on its face Barachiel offered an invitation, “Would you care to join us?” Its calm and soothing voice betraying no sign of surprise about the whole situation.
Sitting back down and once again giving Talia his attention it looked her over once more before deciding it definitely could not recall such a person. “The cold is definitely unpleasant, but I don’t think warm weather would gather as much attention to their cause.” It paused a moment before continuing, “Forgive me miss, but have we met before? I apologize but I simply cannot recall.” | The beard makes me look bad ass right?
Patrick Kershner
Werewolf
Basic Information
| Name |
Patrick Kershner. Not Patty. Patty is a girl’s name got it?
| Date of Birth |
28 July 1996.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Investigative Analyst
| In-Depth Appearance |
Imagine that nerdy kid that got stuffed in school lockers and dragged into the bathrooms by the school bullies because that kid is Patrick. Standing a lanky five foot ten, it’s as if his body went through all the functions of puberty but his arms and legs forgot that they were supposed to reach a certain atheistically pleasing ratio with the body during this period. This combined with the hell that was high school left the young man with a seriously lacking amount of self confidence and it shows on his face and the way he carries himself.
Patrick has a high pitched and what can sometimes be called nasally voice which he believes is the root cause of his tendency to mumble and speed through his sentences when he talks. But on the plus side his choice in clothing is fantastic despite the fact that he’s constantly defending it when he is around his know associates. Everyone knows skinny jeans are in nowa days.
To counter his meager, nerdy looking human side, at nights Patrick is a different man all together. Thick dark black hair will protrude from every office, and his nails will extend, and thicken to a sharpened point to resemble claw. His ears begin to resemble that of a dog or wolf, and his eyes enlarge taking on animalistic fierceness. Oh and there’s always the contorting transformation of his body into a six foot seven, two hundred sixty-five pound hulking mass of terror.
But on the bright side this whole werewolf thing has allowed him to grow a beard which he thinks really helps him look more manly and cooler.
You could say, I had my life together for a whole week before it fell apart again.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Shy ♦ Introvert ♦ Loyal ♦ Caring ♦
Being tortured most of your adolescent life tends to leave its scar on you. Patrick would rather fade into a crowd, yet secretly wants to be the center of attention. He simply wouldn’t know what to do once he was there and he’d probably just break down in panic attack. So he’ll just stick to the fading into the crowd bit. He generally hates the sound of his own voice so he tends to whisper and mumble around people he isn’t comfortable with but when he doesn’t think or know anyone is paying attention he’ll have full blown conversations with himself. Something to help ward of the loneliness he thinks. He’s serious push over with no real back bone to go against the tide and stand up for himself, some idea, or belief, even though he has a really strong moral belief on what’s right and what’s wrong. Really his whole outer shell is just a giant fake façade he puts on for the world, except its not… because you know you’re supposed to be able to stop a façade.
On the plus side when he’s around one of the few people in his inner circle that he’s comfortable with he’ll act without a care in the world. And not only that he’ll be extremely caring and loyal. Where he wouldn’t be willing to squash a fly for himself, he’d take on a whole coven of pissed of witches for one of his friends. Or if it would cheer a friend up at three in the morning he’ll literally run across town (the recent werewolf thing has helped with this) to buy the last chocolate bar being sold. So those are the positives.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔His computer, God knows what he’d do without it.
✔ Squirrels, you can’t say you’ve ever seen an ugly squirrel.
✔ Dogs, I know. Cliché with the werewolf bit but you like what you like.
✔ Thrills. At first he’ll say it’s a horrible idea but by the end he’s really glad he went along with it.
✔ Patterns, like patterns in numbers and studies and shit. Not like floral. Jesus.
✔ His room, good luck getting him out of their without a good deal of complaining.
✔ Texting, it’s so much easier than talking in person.
✘Large Crowds, that’s just asking for a panic attack.
✘ Authority figures, yet another cause of anxiety.
✘ Getting in trouble, nine times out of ten that’s gonna stay with you for the rest of your life man.
✘ Sports, just another excuse to get beaten up.
✘ Spiritual talk, makes him really uncomfortable.
✘ Flirting, did that once. Didn’t turn out so well.
✘ Vegetables, now he has a good excuse to not eat them.
| History |
Patrick’s life has been that of any normal nerd who gets picked on a lot in school for the most part. Good grades, leads to college, where you think things are gonna turn around for you until your anxiety reminds you that you are still you. So instead you spend most of your free time in your room on your computer playing games, while everyone else is going out and experimenting away. He really didn’t have any serious complains. A significant other would have been nice from time to time so he didn’t have to keep going to Rosey Palms. But that’s what really got him into trouble.
After getting out of school, Patrick landed a job with the London police force as a investigative analyst tracking crime patterns. It was actually a pretty decent time. The guys on the force treated him pretty well and he actually started to feel like a welcomed part of a group. In fact he had even been lucky enough to be asked out on a date one morning while he was standing in line waiting for coffee. She was a cute looking girl, who as far as Patrick could tell had a lot more experience at these things than he did. She asked if he wanted to go out to a club with her and a couple of her friends that Friday and eventually when he was done with his dorky gawking and stuttering he got out a yes.
Now suffice to say Patrick had never gone to a club before in his life. The whole thing was intimidating as hell. The girls all had some kind of guy on their arms and Patrick was pretty positive they could each mug him with just their pinky fingers. The getting patted down before being allowed into the club didn’t do much to calm his nerves as he had never guessed that was necessary before he entered. Once he got out onto the dance floor he shuffled around looking what he could only assume was like a complete idiot. He kept thinking that the girl was going to ditch him, but she stayed with him an actual smile on her face. Just when he let his guard down and actually started relaxing and having fun she pulled on his hand and led him off to some back room. That was where things got really bad.
He had never felt so much pain before and pain had been a pretty constant factor back in school. They shredded his skin, clothes, muscles, everything. He was pretty sure he was going to die right then in there killed by creatures that were never supposed to have existed on what had been the best night of his life. But they let him live. Next thing he knew he was in the hospital, the nurse telling him his brothers had brought him in. But that was really odd considering he didn’t have any siblings. A little after that his pack arrived and everything Patrick knew about the world was turned upside down. He didn’t dare refusing joining the Bisclavret pack fearing what they’d do to them if he didn’t. Ever since then he’s been begrudgingly joining them in their sneaky little joining ceremonies, though he’s rarely and active participant leaving some to begin questioning his real loyalty to the pack.
| Family |
John and Stacey Kershner: His parents live in a small town off in the country and Patrick rarely ever speaks to them regardless how much they bug him. He’s never really felt all that connected to his parents and was plenty happy moving to London requiring him to talk to them even less. That being said he does love them and will check in from time to time.
| Strengths |
Intelligent. Patrick is a smart cookie if nothing else making him very good at his job. And he’s pretty good at catching on to things quickly.
Isn’t very emotional and can deal with just about anything thrown his way. Made him a little numb his life has.
Extremely loyal to those close to him.
| Weaknesses |
A major push over and all around scaredy cat in most regards of his life.
Socially awkward to the extreme.
Never engaged in any serious relationship with another person that didn’t end in a giant joke.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Loser - Beck
” And my time is a piece of wax
Falling' on a termite
Who's choking' on the splinters”
| House Number |
To be discussed.
| Extra Information |
Nothing as of now. |
1,038 | 14 | 53 | 896 | 389 | John Taylor
Location: Apartment 28A, Personal Automobile
Interacting With: Mariska (), Mordred (9)
If there was one thing on God's earth that could rival John's love for his job than it was pork, especially post-possession. There were so many ways he could prepare it, smoke it for barbecue, boil the meat and marrow for soups, dry strips of meat for jerky, and hell, if he was desperate enough, could eat it raw. Arguable the best worst part about it though was it's strange similarity with human flesh, not enough to completely fool Wendigo but enough to keep it reasonably quiet and out of John's hair. So, as the sausages browned and sizzled in the pan, John couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation, guilt, and annoyance at how slow it was taking to get "just right" as he liked to call it. And the pancakes? Well...who doesn't like pancakes.
Flipping those discs into golden brown greatness was second nature, allowing John to just give a lopsided frown as he nodded lazily at Mariska's words, shit may have hit the fan but the debris hasn't reached any of them just quite yet. All they could really do is wait and see if "Helsing" was had any bite to their bitch, preferably not if he was being completely honest."Ah, well that blows. At least you got money in the bank yeah? I mean, if nothing else than that's something to be proud of." This enlightening speech of course coming after Mordred's dramatic entry, earning a smirk from John as he wrapped up breakfast. Taking a moment to prepare his coffee, mostly coffee, a good deal of creamer, and enough rum to give it a healthy kick, John was ready to face the day. Creating a sort of breakfast burrito out of sausage and a pancake, John made his way for the door. "Call me if you need me to grab something on the way back" Not bothering to grab a coat because, quite frankly, he hasn't needed on in years.
Winter always his favorite time of the year, even before this thing decided to set up shop in his head, there was something about snowfall that just felt like...quiet. Now, well it was at this time of the year Wendigo was at it's most quiet. I guess even souls sucking monsters get homesick. John mused to himself, shrugging it off as he scarfed his food down. The trip down to the shit-mobile wasn't all that exciting, just a cigarette being lit and on it's way to being used. | John Taylor
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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.
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. |
1,039 | 14 | 54 | 1,435 | 3,655 | Location: Previous 1BR Apartment - Outside - Churchhill Gardens, 5B
Interacting with: Internet (Herself) - Car Radio (Herself) - Moving Crew
Twilight. Beautiful times of day when the sky is dancing with color and the atmospheric phenomena encircles the area. When the Sun's geometric center is 6 degrees below the horizon, that is when one would know dawn is approaching. A fair skinned woman finished applying silicone cream to her damp, blonde hair and combed it straight. Blessed with a wild mane and a deathly allergy to any flat metal base items, the fae woman had to go through a much longer process of making her damned hair flat. Of course, most days she would let her curls be free but today she needed them to be obedient... something that wouldn't get in her way. After all, she was moving to her new humble abode. Sure, the iron would not touch her skin but she wasn't going to risk her hair burning off or her accidentally touching the iron, ultimately burning her skin far more than the average human would experience. Thankfully, there was an abundance of product for people's hygienic needs. Thank you, year 2020. Her sleep schedule was horrendous, having spent most of her night packing the rest of her things while replying to comments on FacelessVision to one of her latest videos, that was posted three days ago:
"Unsuspecting teen werewolf shot to death by ex-police officer"
Found dead on the outskirts of Edgetoun with a silver bullet in his head. Human officer's identity classified. Investigators assume the werewolf came from the Zephyrus Accord. Personal conclusions: Werewolf child is of the Bisclavret clan and was left to die. Read more on...
– Stephanie Anderson, FacelessVision
That unfortunate experience when someone, who could have potentially saved a life, came a moment too late... That is a feeling story-hungry Eternity, a curious Solitary Fae, experienced at least twice a week. This story was old news but still brought attraction, especially since werewolves and vampires were the current media craze. There were potential stories everyday. Her talent was 'accidentally' stumbling on a crime scene after someone died or seconds before the victim was going to die. This video in particular brought quite a bit of controversy.
The scene unfolded as so: Turning the corner of a building, with the camera constantly rolling, Eternity stumbled upon a burly man holding tight onto his gun and giving a death glare toward a creature not even twice his size. His bloodlust stare was met with a young pup's golden orbs. The werewolf had a gorgeous white fur coat yet his eyes showed...weakness. Both man and wolf looked exhausted. Within seconds, only catching the human's face briefly on camera, Ettie watched as the man shot the young pup right in the head. Hiding... hiding on the side of the building, the camera revealed her small hands dialing 911. Everything was happening so fast, the audience could tell the faceless videographer was not mentally prepared to stumble upon a direct sighting of a crime. She had just decided to call it quits, thinking this night was rather uneventful but that was information the viewer wouldn't know.
The next moments were left silent but the text of her call for help was revealed on the video like subtitles. "I heard a gunshot... I think it's coming from the corner of Church and Hamel..." if the audience could hear the tone in her voice, she sounded pretty calm and collected, but at last it was text meant to be interpreted. The conversation swiftly went on and then came to a halt when she heard footsteps. Hanging up, she silenced herself... the aching feeling of whether or not this man would go in her direction could make the viewer's heart race. Taking a deep breath in, Eternity peeked her head to see if the close was clear, the lens caught the man running the opposite direction, leaving footprints behind. Not bright, not bright at all. Going towards the body, she checked to see if the wolf boy was still breathing. The scene turned into something sadly sentimental as if the werewolf was seen humane in the viewer's eyes. The boy was dead. The pure white of his coat was stained with his own blood. Remarkable imagery, but hard to look at... Symbolism of the loss of innocence. Hearing sirens, the nightcrawler ran to hide...
Usually, Ettie cuts her shots to make a cinematic experience out of her scene but for some reason, keeping this raw felt like the best course of actions... it was as if you were there experiencing this with her. The story was in the moment, so why change a thing? When the police arrived at the scene to examine the body, the video cut to black. By now, "Stephanie's" viewers knew that when it came to the investigation part of the story, she attached an article to the description section below. A supplement to the visual story for those who wanted to know some of the facts and early theories that went on about the case. As days went on and more articles were made about the crime, Eternity would add the article/video/content links to her 'Stephanie Anderson' FacelessVision page in a blog post.
Steph, it seems like you want us to sympathize with the beast.
– MiseryMan90
THIS IS SOOOOOOO SAD! creatures need #rights #faceless #stephanieanderson
– musicaddicted
@musicaddicted The damnation had it coming. He threatened the officer's life. #TheOther #Monsters
– HellsMinion
@VHMinion Agreed. Lately her videos have been making us humans look bad. Damn bitch needs to pick a side.
– MiseryMan90
@MiseryMan90 Or she could be one of them.
– HellsMinion
You two are terrible.
– musicaddicted
Yes, lately Eternity's videos have been shedding light on the topic of prejudice against the Supernatural but this could have been easily turned into a race issue, since the cop was African American and the wolf was Caucasian (oh how the tables have turned). If the boy wasn't a wolf, they'd be crying their eyes out: COP WAS A MURDERER. But it looks like Supernatural races trumped nationalities. People were always going to nitpick her videos. It just so happens that the crimes her recent videos brought to surface had to deal with a human being terrible. Not her fault she hasn't walked into an alleyway where a wolf had finished mauling a vampire, or a vampire finished it's midnight dinner by draining a fae to death. She's only one person and if she were a witch or a ghost, maybe she could find crimes when 'The Other' can be easily painted as the enemy, but she wasn't.
All personal feelings aside, she loved her night job. No matter how challenging finding a good story was.
Driving in her white 2015 Nissan Altima, Eternity turned on the radio to listen to the happenings of lovely Edgetoun. The weather forecast was something she didn't need to hear since she felt the storm brewing a mile away. Perks of her people being the cause of it. She loved snow but it would make moving a bitch if she didn't beat the downpour. If the roads weren't an ice death trap, she would've rode her motorcycle that is currently stored in a warehouse with some of her other belongings (she highly doubts Churchhill can fit all her shit). Many moons ago she bought this car. If she did her research correctly a Nissan Altima was a middle class vehicle five years ago, so now it's kind of obsolete. Not one to be car savvy, Ettie hoped her vehicle didn't stand out too much in her new neighborhood. There were reasons why she didn't buy a luxury vehicle like the 2016 Rolls-Royce Phantom... Granted, if she could choose between driving a car or a motorcycle, she'd always pick her motorcycle. Sure, she'd have to be more selective on her wardrobe but the feeling of riding a bike was exhilarating and she wouldn't trade it for the world. A fairly decent size UHaul truck trailed behind her car with two men in it. Her outfit was simple: a black winter jacket with fur on the hood, a grey sweater, a plaid skirt (with red, white, tan, black), black nylon stockings and heel boots... She'd like to think her appearance was ordinary. The red brought out her light features and even if this weather wasn't what she considered freezing cold, she needed to 'blend'... however, blending in was not her strong suit.
The most intriguing piece of news that the radio personnel talked about was not so much the manslaughter, or the death of the werewolf, or even the petition and statement... but the mysterious person behind the 'typical' nom de plume: Helsing. If Ettie discovered the person behind the name, her Faceless page would be the internet's main attraction for who knows how long?! Perhaps she should start with finding leads to members of Mortals First before she went on a blind adventure searching for Helsing. Normally, she'd prefer reading a newspaper and sitting on her couch surrounded by files, pictures, her notes, some form of caffeine, and her laptop, but she had places to go, people to see! to move! God, moving was dreadful. Curiosity was overflowing in her tiny body when Eternity realized she had arrived at her destination.
Churchhill Gardens.
"Alright boys~ I'm going to see what we're working with." Exiting the parked car, Ettie twirled the keys she had gotten in advance and playfully stared at them. Not wanting to deal with signing papers and all that jazz this early in the morning, the woman took care of everything two days prior. The hired workers nodded and watched the fae saunter off.
Reaching the room 5B (at the tippity top!), taking in the doleful environment, that filled her with odd excitement, the whimsical blonde entered her new humble abode.
Her face dropped. Not at the sight of the mold, or the bleakness in the walls, but the interior design.
"Oh this won't do. I'll have to rearrange everything!" She did take note of the scattered man clothes, the dimness from the shutters being closed, but her attention couldn't leave the poorly placed furniture. Good to know my roommate has a penis or prefers wearing boy clothes.
Going to the outdoor hallway, she peered down to the parking lot and yelled, "BOYS! We got some spring cleaning to do first!!" Taking in the cold air, Ettie couldn't help but grin. A sudden thought popped in her head as she leaned on the frozen railing, "ACTUALLY! Lets bring all the boxes with the red tags into my bedroom since that's empty... um... the trunk, the purple suitcases, the mattress and other bedroomesque furniture. OH! And the things in my car! We can worry about the other color coded boxes later." This apartment complex seemed deserted for the time being or people were still sleeping. Eternity didn't care if she woke anyone up, they were wasting their day away anyways.
Cracking the door so she didn't have to unlock it again, the fae marched happily down the steps and began to help her moving crew bring all her shit in.
They decided to take care of the bed frame and mattress first, she nodded in approval, "Take your time and be careful. I know I could have postponed the move but... that's boring." | - snipped and put in storage until future reference - |
1,040 | 14 | 55 | 709 | 301 | Andrew Mordekai
Location: On the Street to the Early Bean
Interacting With: Katie
Andrew grabbed his peacoat held the door open for them to go, making sure to lock up before they left. Faraday was pretty Other-centric, as it seemed, but he still didn't want to take a chance at an angry human going door to door. Putting his hands in the pockets of his coat, he smiled to Katie. "No problem, love, it's what I'm here for. Thank you for the toast." He nodded at her comment on work, "Oh yeah..." Andy put his fingers to his temple, "I'm sensing...lots of grouchy, racist old folks." The Witch said in the mysterious tone of a fortune teller, then chuckled a little at his own joke...though he knew it was probably true.
The sidewalks were decently cleared off, but still slick from the wet snow. Not wanting either of them to slip, Andy thought it best to work a little magic. Nothing flashy or obvious, just enough to get rid of the hazard. He calmly took his hands from his pockets and brought them together, as though he were going to breathe into them. A brief cantrip whispered caused the circles on his palms to gently bloom into orange and writhe under his skin. As his hands parted, the air around the two grew warmer, until it was like that of a comfortable spring day in their immediate vicinity. Any lingering ice would harmlessly melt away.
"Didn't want any slips...that should take care of it. Hope you don't mind." Andrew stated, less looking for approval and more informing. He realized he hadn't really worked magic in front of Katie since her recent move in, and he hoped this would make it seem less...scary. Dangerous. That it could be used for simple, helpful things. Of course, it could also pull ancient horrors from the pits of Hell, but that wasn't too common.
After a few minutes of walking, they were coming up on the Early Bean, though it was still a good couple intersections away.
Liam Woodsworth
Location: Back at Churchill, in the parking lot -> 5B
Interacting With: A really poor eviction notice
The stores had been hell to get through with the storm raging on, and Liam had a hell of a time getting anything. He managed a bag of essentials, bread and canned goods and the like, and decided he'd better get it home before anything. Plus, he was working the fucking evening shift at the shop today, much to his dismay. A scalding shower that would make him regret ever attempting hygiene was in order.
The market wasn't awfully far from his apartment, and the walk wasn't too bad. The poor boy nearly slipped and busted his fragile little monster head a few times, but eh, it was winter. Times ten. Shit happened. All along the way, he passed people hurriedly getting inside, away from the cold.
"...and she was a vampire! And I said, "Vampires? At my party? You've gotta be kidding!"
"...I swear she was real freaky, man! Long claws, crazy weird eyes, like they wanted my soul! Got some cool fuckin' scratches on my back, though."
"No love, you can't go play with the girl next door. She's one of those faerie things..."
Ugh. Why did the one thing he get from his vampire side have to be increased senses? He could hear all this from across the street, if he focused. Silly, silly people. They'd have to shape up eventually, or the progression of society had bad news for 'em...
Liam rounded a corner and stopped. There was a moving truck on the lot, men moving someone's shit around. Was he getting a new neighbor? He peered around his building and...
"Wait, what the fuck?" That was 5 fucking B! Who the fuck was busting into his pad? How'd they get keys?! It took a second to dawn on him, but the Dhampire remembered with a groan that the landlord had been trying to evict him due to his...habits. He just hadn't really been able to due to Liam paying rent on time. He felt deep down that this was Mr. Fuckwit's way of underhandedly pushing him out. "Yeah, well we'll just see about that Sir Go-Fuck-Yourself." He muttered, stepping up with his groceries.
It was then that he spotted a small blonde woman in winter garb, yelling orders around at the movers. He dodged burly men carrying God knows what to stand before her. "Excuse me, miss...are you, uh...moving into my apartment? The one that I have the rent agreement and pay rent for?" He questioned, smiling slightly, "I'm not gonna stop you, but I would've cleaned if I'd known I was having company. Extended...company." | Liam Woodsworth
Dhampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Elliot Liam Woodsworth
He prefers the informality of Liam
| Date of Birth |
October 19, 1992
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Liam works as an IT assistant at a local tech shop, mixes music as a hobby, and volunteers at a blood bank for his less savory needs. Yes, the last one is morally dubious, but he’s not going to be around long enough to actually care, now will he? On the music note, he tends to whip up tracks with heavy bass and high tempos, as he finds them euphoric...almost as euphoric as the recreational drugs that may eventually overtake his work ethic.
| In-Depth Appearance |
”That poor boy...darling, do you eat?
”Damn my boy, have you seen a doctor? Pale as a ghost, ya are.”
Sickly. Liam is sickly. He is tall, gaunt, pale...and he isn’t even fucking sick most of the time. He blames it on his lineage, daddy was an awfully stereotypical bloodsucker. Maybe it’s the rapidly degenerating body? Maybe it’s his refusal to indulge his hemo-cravings until absolutely necessary? He doesn’t care, really. Liam’s got places to be, stunts to do, and a short life to live. This is apparent in his messy medium-long brown hair, disheveled fashion of band shirts and loose ripped denim, and a general air of “I really don’t give a fuck, come not give a fuck with me”. His brown eyes speak of a troubled past and a carefree future, of resignation and of the triumphant freedom in that revelation. Liam’s voice is soft, enticing, as though it itself realized the throat it was bound to was horribly unfitting and made a show to be better. To be a selling point.
When you’re a local pariah, ya have to have something going for ya, right?
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Morbid ♦ Relaxed ♦ Indulgent ♦ Welcoming ♦
There is a comfort in knowing death is coming.
You become prepared. You enjoy every moment, every pain, every sensation that smolders on the neurons. Liam has accepted this, and he relishes it. It’s relaxing, and he exudes this calm repose around him. Those that aren’t aware of his supernatural bastard status are always laid back around him, if not worried by his random pains and sickly pallor. Those that are...well, he’s not obnoxious enough to warrant a lynch mob yet. But who knows what’ll come in the future... sure would save him pill money.
Pill money that could go towards more fun pills! Since he knows his time is short, Liam takes every chance he gets to explore the unsavory and wonderful of the world. Drugs, alcohol with dubious origins and long names, ancient rituals that cause really weird spirit trips, (he had to give a “favor” to a Witch for that one but damn was it worth it. Ever see ancient cosmic deities play limbo with a meteor belt? Liam has.), are all things he has and is willing to try. Dangerous stunts are also kinda fun, when the crippling pains aren’t hitting hard. There are no limits to what he’ll try. Of course it’s dangerous, sometimes deadly. Sometimes it’s kind of like daring Death to make its move.
Sadly, this applies to people too. He blazes through relationships and sex like it’s nothing but a carnal transaction. Maybe one day he’ll find someone that quences his cravings. Likely? Liam doesn’t think so.
But in all respects, Liam wants friends. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants stories passed around about him after he moves on from Edgetoun. Stories about that crazy ass pale kid that did a somersault off a building after three lines of coke and a tab of acid, lived, and then ran a 500. Okay...that’s excessive and he’d probably be dead after the first part of that, but...the point is there. As such, he doesn’t want to hurt people either. The option to get that street shit from dealers was a tempting one, but that blood could come from anyone. Anything. Through...less than fun means. At least at the blood donor center, that was willingly given. No violence or pain, even if it’s stealing...he tries to take what’s in abundance, none of the important rare shit. He doesn’t deserve that.
In the end, when you have a very short time to experience life, you shouldn’t waste that life on brooding and sorrow. Get out there, live...no matter what everyone says. No matter if you’re the monster they say you are.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Electronic music No words. No hidden meanings. Just raw emotion. It’s delightfully primal.
✔Adrenaline rushes Ya know when you’re on a coaster and your balls just go right up in your stomach? Yeah. That’s what I like.
✔New things So much to do, so much to see, so much to- Alright, I’ll stop. Sorry.
✔Fall England’s nice in the fall. Cloudy, damp...it’s comforting.
✔A good adventure graphic novel The art, man! Plus, less words, faster reading, meaning more awesome shit for me.
✔Jaffa cakes Tiny. Portable. Orangey. They are my one true love.
✔So many drugs. Specifically acid and coke, and any eldritch shit he can get. Oh the places you will go…
✘Staying home As much as I’d like it to, my mix board doesn’t usually talk to me. Usually.
✘Those who waste what they have Almost everyone has so much left to live. So much to give to society. Why the fuck would you throw that away?
✘Sulky folks Aw, cheer up mate. Wanna grab ice cream? Fucking love ice cream.
✘Violence Come on. Talk your shit out. You start busting heads, I’ll split you the fuck up. Got it?
✘Salad. Or anything vaguely green. It's crispy fucking water. That's gross.
✘Sunny weather. Fuck you, dad.
✘Dependency. I'm a strong, independent abomination. Well...less strong, more independent. Ya get me, yeah?
| History |
The fall brought with it cool air, warm homes, a time for families to come together…
And produce an awful bastardization of life.
Liam came into the world a screamer. Like he already knew, day one out of the womb, that he was already on his way out. He got all of his screaming out then.
Born to a middle class mother and a bloodsucking poppa that bolted the minute he knew one of his dark little swimmers hit home. Yeah, typical daddy issues, blah blah...Liam never really cared much past passive aggressive comments and normal annoyances. His mother Trisha lived with her parents then, the three of them taking care of this sad, ill child. It was rough, and they never really understood what he was. The father had the eventual courtesy, about five years in, to inform poor Trisha about what exactly she’d brought into the world. She didn’t believe the fucker, of course.
Until Liam really started liking raw meat.
Not the meat itself, but the leftover blood in the package. Terrified, confused, and just feeling awful all around, she had to reorganize her life and her idea of parenting to fit this child. She packed up and they moved to the countryside.
And so began the “Don’t Bite” motto of life. Liam learned not to hurt folks to stop his own pain, to enjoy what he had...like a mother that didn’t try and kill him with a stake. She cared more to give her son what he needed...blood. Her blood. Just enough to keep him sated. Liam learned respect, caring, and restraint, qualities sometimes not found in his full-blooded kin.
There was a rough spot in secondary school when Liam learned that he wasn’t going to live a long, happy life. The pain was a sign. The slightly quick growth, another. And once he ran into a couple vampires that were flying under the radar, they made him understand how low he was. That he was a mistake. Suddenly, parties became enticing, every new drink and drug an experience worth dying for. Trisha had to go through hoops to keep doctors from drawing his blood, let alone run any drug tests on him. Their relationship was strained around then, and once Liam graduated he left for London to cool down and mature.
Fast-forward, and Liam’s working a menial job to make ends meet in Edgetoun. IT work fit him, since he spent a large portion of his teens messing with electronic instruments and computers his few friends had. Plus, lots of people needed help with their newfangled gadgets and gizmos, and he was happy to help and talk to them. Recently, he’s back in touch with his mother and patching things up...while not telling her about all the crazy shit he does for fun. No need to worry her.
But how can she not be worried when her pariah of a son is on the ass end of a bloody race war?
| Family |
Trisha Woodsworth | Mother : A kind, gentle woman, with a fair bit of paranoia. You get that when your kid’s kind of on the chopping block.
| Strengths |
Incredibly open-minded
Curious
Protective
| Weaknesses |
No real restraint
Locked to his path, sees no other future; “Blinders” on
Lacks any sort of commitment
The Other
| Theme Song |
Marry The Night – Lady Gaga
”I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen
Live passionately tonight”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens 5B
| Extra Information |
Liam has a lizard named Squeaks. That fucker knows shit. |
1,041 | 14 | 56 | 2,173 | 2,274 | Suriel
Location: Edgetoun Memorial Hospital, getting ready to leave for the day
Interacting With: Hospital staff, patients, and mention of Alison
Cancer.
It was a disease straight from hell itself, and it was Suriel’s job to exorcise such demons. The majority of the surgeries performed in this unit were brain surgeries, often those to remove malignant tumors. This surgery was one of the many. Still, no matter how commonplace they might be, there was still something incredibly nerve-wracking about having someone’s entire life in your clean, gloved hands. One small slip and you could wipe away someone’s childhood memories, their ability to speak, or to walk. And then there was the other looming demon...
Death.
Okay, perhaps it isn’t quite fair for Suriel to call death a demon. There were angel’s of death, after all; But that didn’t mean Suriel had to like it. Being a healer, death was the worst possible outcome. Thankfully, Suriel was a healer, and a blessedly good one, too! The operation went smoothly and, under the observation of the senior neurosurgery resident, Suriel managed to removed 100% of the cancerous matter. Young Ellen would live to blow out the candles on her sixth birthday cake.
Suriel was in the process of scrubbing down after the surgery when the senior resident joined them.
”Great work in there, as always. Your hands are always so steady, it’s almost inhuman.” He said, giving Suriel pause, if only for the briefest of moments. Suriel dried their hands and smiled at their advisor.
”I’ll take that as a compliment. Trust me, though, I’m just as nervous any other junior resident… God just blessed me with healing hands.” It was nice that they could be so openly honest about their explanation. Humans were far less likely to scream ‘supernatural! monster!” when you you said something like that, they’d just assume you to be some religious nut. If only they knew who walked among them. They thought they knew, but they didn’t know that half of it.
Peace.
At 1600 hours, Suriel’s shift at Edgetoun Memorial Hospital was now coming to an end. After giving report to the incoming residents and nurses, Suriel stopped by Mrs. Oswald’s room. It was an unnecessary action, as Suriel already knew what they would see. About halfway through the surgery, Mrs. Oswald’s light went out. That’s how Suriel could tell who needed their help, the sick all had lights. The brighter the light, the more healing they needed. Mrs. Oswald’s light was dim earlier that day. She didn’t need help, she was ready, all that was left was to say her goodbyes.
A woman was weeping quietly behind the glass pane of the window. Lisa, Suriel presumed. Pausing for a moment, Suriel watched the scene. They wouldn’t go in and interrupt, it wasn’t their place, this was another doctor’s patient. Suriel took comfort in the fact that the old woman was resting in peace with the Father now, even if though it caused her granddaughter grief. In this rare instance, death was a kind mercy.
Suriel made their way to the locker room. They changed out of their scrubs and into a bright purple top, white blazer, and slim fit dark-wash jeans. The angel dressed well, but all of their clothes were bought on a tight budget. Another person joined Suriel in the locker room. It was that nurse. The nurse. Suriel looked into the locker as they pulled out their wallet and mobile. They felt their cheeks getting warm. As the nurse got closer they grew hot, even. What a strange sensation... | Loki
Vampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Loki Van Stenberg
The former name he was born with, kind of, the latter was chosen most recently because he liked the dramatic flair. He moves around a lot, mostly keeping to Europe, and changes his name with every move.
Aliases/Nicknames include: Low Key, Kingpin, and the Trickster
| Date of Birth |
Born to a Vikingar couple in the Summer of 830, give or take a few decades. His most current falsified documentation lists July 13th, 1992, though.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Primarily heterosexual, though living as long as he has, he’s dabbled elsewhere to spice things up.
| Occupation |
Legal Profession? He is a Senior Chemist at the research lab in Redbridge, earned a bonafide PhD and everything! He has a passion for the sciences. Having a well-paying job like this makes for a good cover on how he really got the fancy cars and mansion up on Avalon Point.
Real Profession? Loki runs the London underground. Narcotics, hallucinogens, uppers, downers, you name it! If it exists, Low Key has a man running the stuff on the streets. And the Kingpin doesn’t just cater to the humans, hell no, he’s got the stuff to get the Sups just as fucked up. He has just plain ol’ blood too, for those too morally weak to do their own hunting, but willing enough to look the other way on how said blood was obtained in the first place. Loki’s real pride and joy, though, is O-neg. Being a vampire scientist with unlimited access to state-of-the-art laboratory equipment, Loki figured out a way to genetically and chemically alter human blood so that it gives vampires the effect of being high - a previously unattainable state for vampires, aside from the very mild effects one could gain from tainted blood. Pressed into tiny red tablets emblazoned with an ‘O’, O-neg does different things for different vamps; For some it feels like ecstasy, some just pot, and some experience hallucinations like with acid. O-neg could take you all the way up to the clouds, and then promptly let you crash through the floorboards. It’s the real deal, and when you’re working with vampire lifespans and immunities, what the hell else do you have to do with your time? Come on, you know you want to try it...
| In-Depth Appearance |
Devilishly handsome, is that enough? No? Okay then. With soulful blue eyes and a tidy crop of chestnut curls, one might almost be convinced that Loki is innocent. But that ever present five o’clock shadow and crooked smirk betray that he is up to absolutely no good, just like the god he was named for. He stands at 5’11” with a toned and muscular build, but not overly so.
Appearances are of utmost importance to the viking - old habits die hard, I guess - and as such, he is hardly ever seen without at least a two piece suit, or a lab coat, if he’s working. Scars? Aye, he got a few of them raiding and trading his way across the Scandinavian homelands back in his human years, but most are easily hidden by his apparel.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Flirtatious ♦ Manipulative ♦ Logical ♦ Hot-headed ♦
Loki is double-edged sword, simply put. Listening to him talk is easy, a trait that made him a good college professor in his past lives. He is very intelligent and tells some of the best stories you’ve ever heard - who knows how true some of them are, though. And, hell, he could charm the pants off of just about anyone; Can, and has, most likely. Even with boatloads of charisma, he can be quite the egotistical dick sometimes. It is glaringly obvious that his own favorite person is, indeed, himself. And though vikings are known for having treated most people relatively equally long before it was the popular opinion, Loki can come off as a bit of a chauvinist. But hey, nobody’s perfect, and that’s something the Trickster never strived to be. If you can sand down those abrasive, crusty edges, you’ll find a real softy inside Loki. He just wants what everyone else wants: to have people truly care about him.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔A thick, hoppy brew
✔Having drinks with his best mates
✔Getting high, but only occasionally
✔Living in luxury
✔Blondes
✔Gingers too
✔Learning other languages
✔Calling women luv and doll, regardless of how well he knows them
✔Himself
✘Mead, Drink of the Gods or not, the shit tastes like candied piss
✘The French… no real reason why there
✘Unkempt people
✘Religion, as a vampire and as a scientist
✘The telly
✘People who can’t keep secrets
✘Humans, most of the time
✘That hideous mockery Marvel has made of his namesake
| History |
This section could go on for pages, but brevity is in fact the soul of wit. Flóki Björnsson was born to a jarl and his wife in 9th century in the lands now known as Sweden. Growing up in the Vikingar lifestyle was as much as one might expect: tough, violent, bloody, but also noble, adventurous, and enriching. Vikingar ideals make up a lot of who Loki is today, and don’t believe all the clichés and stereotypes you hear about the Vikings, they aren’t the savages history books paint them to be. Flóki’s human life ended in a brutal battle across the sea in what is now Poland. It was a warriors death that would make his father proud, and earn his place in the halls of Valhalla, or Fólkvangr, he wasn’t picky. At least, that wouldn’t have been the case, if he hadn’t woken up after, bloodied in a field among his fallen brothers and sisters with a burning thirst in his throat unlike any he’d ever known. Naturally, he went on to murder the nearest living, breathing thing… or ten. And the rest, they say, is history!
In modern times, Loki makes his mark by finding new ways to turn heads in different locations around the world. Every few years, mostly when people might start to question why he isn’t aging, Loki moves and takes on a new name and identity. He takes his business and the money it makes with him, of course, and though his legal surname changes, his aliases remain, as does his first name. Low Key is not fond of the mass outing of the supernaturals, preferring to keep his nature like his business, underground. Nothing good can come of the humans knowing about the Others, not that he feared them. No, they were a fickle race that was likely to bring about their own demise just to get there point across… and that would make finding a good meal a hell of a lot harder.
| Family |
Jarl Björn, father, died in battle.
Jarl Ragna, mother, died shortly after, giving birth to Loki’s sister.
Frida Björnsson, sister, unknown…
| Strengths |
The quintessential businessman
Quick thinker, and often correct in that thinking
With age comes wisdom
| Weaknesses |
Flounders when not in absolute control of a situation.
Acute paranoia, well, maybe not so acute.
Prone to violent outbursts when pushed too far.
The Other
| Theme Songs |
The Dope Show – Marilyn Manson
”The drugs they say make us feel so hollow
We love in vain, narcissistic and so shallow
…
There's a lot of pretty, pretty ones
That want to get you high
But all the pretty, pretty ones
Will leave you low and blow your mind”
| House Number |
36 Avalon Point
| Extra Information |
Want to know more? I guess you have to come figure that out.
Loki Van Stenberg
Blake Preston
"Ahh, the Youtuber. I suppose it’s a good a way as any for a pretty girl to make a penny."
I like blondes, but tend to keep away from the human ones… especially when they can’t keep their noses out of business that clearly isn’t any of theirs. Her interest are apt to get killed one day, not that I care.
Daniel Belson
"Now this one is a real master of his craft. I’ve spent many a night with my mates whilst he tended bar."
Seems like a decent bloke. I don’t know him well, but I’ve always enjoyed the company of demons. Plus, I think he’s one of the few men in this city that could match me in a drinking contest.
Alistair Queen
"What good is a King without a Queen?"
Handsome, well-dressed, ambitious… hell, it’s basically like looking in a mirror. What can I say? He’s my best mate, and has been for a few lifetimes. He runs things above ground while I, well, he’s the only one outside of my force that knows what I really do.
Mariska Costas
"Does someone smell… fish?"
Jokes aside, I don’t have much to say about this one. She has a nice enough voice, good background music when drinkin’ at the pub.
Nikita Yankovsky
"Wonder why she traded in the fuzzy cuffs for real ones..."
Yeah, I don’t like cops. Three guesses as to why. She seems like one of the better ones though, probably smokes pot on her days off. While she isn’t really my type, I’d be up for a little roleplay session. “I’ve been a real bad boy, Officer!”
Mordred Hame
"Great talent, but what is with that hair?"
Another demon, yeah, this city is crawling with them - most are, what better places to rustle up some chaos? Viking Metal is my genre of choice, naturally, and Cloak of Shame is among the best metal bands London has to offer.
John Taylor
"Again with the hair, I don’t get it."
He did my latest tattoo, the eagle on my shoulder here. Great work, in all honesty. I’ll definitely be going back to him for my next piece.
Eve Lumière
"Uggh, the French. Don’t get me started."
That accent almost makes the drinks taste bad. Drop dead gorgeous though, so it’s always worth the visit. I wonder what she’s like in bed, hopefully quiet.
Catharine Reid
"Girl knows how to run a business, I can appreciate that."
The vampires in this city pretty much all know of each other. I like her spicy personality, should get to know her even better. I’m sure we’d be chums in no time.
Opallum
"Untapped potential, what a shame."
I’ve had my eye on this one. Many of my men went from rags to riches under my employ. Hopefully he’ll accept my offer, I always have use for a man who knows his way around the streets. Plus, I know he has junkie friends.
Andrew Mordekai
"He makes a real strong, HOT cuppa!"
Blood, Booze, and Tea. Those are the beverages of choice listed in order of importance. Mr. Mordekai makes takes care of the third every morning before I head to the lab. The real lab, in Redbridge. Just to clarify...
Suriel White
"What the fuck is that?"
Listen, I’m all for doing whoever you please. But the kids these days with their LGBTXYZ alphabet-soup personalities! Honestly, is that a man? A woman? Don’t confuse me like that, mate! I don’t want to have to guess about what’s in your trousers...
Miles Catrose
"He’s a local hairstylist. He gave me a cut once, I won’t be hurrying back any time soon."
Not because he wasn’t good, no. Faeries just smell like pudding. Delicious… irresistible pudding. I’m glad I didn’t fang out and devour him then, that would have totally blown my cover. I’m not looking to pack up and change my name again, London suits me. I keep my distance from this kid for both our sakes, even though one of my men is his dealer.
Yukiko Abe
"I saw her at the shop where I got my ink. She’s one of the other artists… I think she owns the place too."
That isn’t all I know about her. Alistair told me about her. She is playing Mum to London’s Youngest Vampiress. Too cute.
Mona
"Looks… familiar."
Though, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this one.
Faron Romane
"That shop he works at screams witchcraft, I’m surprised the bigots haven’t torched it."
Pothead kids are a dime a dozen around here, but I can’t complain. Business such as his pays from my morning cuppa from Andrew, every little bit counts!
Nicolas Black
"Good Afternoon, Detective Black." *cue devilish smirk*
A cop and a werewolf. I’ll keep my distance, wouldn’t want him shedding on my new Kiton… or sniffing about my rear.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"She works at the plant nursery where I bought those succulents over there." *gestures to cacti*
I don’t know much else about her. Smells human, but possibly a witch. You get a keen eye for picking things like that out when you’re this old.
Megumi
"That’s Ali’s ward… Kids aren’t really my thing."
That’s a lie. I think she’s adorable… but definately creepy. It’s hard to believe that she’s as old as she is, with the bouncing around and primary school bit. She definitely livens up Alistair’s cliché abode, though… well, I’m not sure livens up is the right phrase, given that neither of them are really alive.
Stefani Roche
"Looks familiar… ahh, yes! She was the receptionist at the tattoo parlor."
There she is, London’s Youngest Vampiress. Pretty as a peach, she is. Alistair gave her a few pointers on “Vamp life”. I wouldn’t mind giving her a pointer or two myself. In due time...
Ari Amari
"Ari’s another close mate of mine."
I met the Sphinx when he moved in a few blocks down. He’s one of my best paying customers, though he doesn’t know that he is essentially buying the stuff from me. What can I say? Anonymity is everything to me and, though he’s always fun to party with, I don’t know that I can trust him just yet - especially if the blimey bastard think the Egyptian gods are better than the Norse, that’s some fine coke yer snortin’, mate!
Katharine Haynes
"Hmmm..."
Is that the girl who works with Andrew? Or is she from the other shop… I can’t remember.
Felix Underwood
"I’ve seen her at the library on occasion."
Judging from the pentagram jewelry and thick cloud of incense about her, I’m pegging this one as a witch too. That, or she’s a human wannabe witch. I don’t know what would be worse...
Elise Callaghan
*Hums one of her compositions*
What can I say? Classical music is the only vampire cliché I indulge. Okay… maybe it’s not the only one. That’s, that’s beside the point! She’s lovely. A bit curious that she doesn’t speak, what’s that about? Maybe it’s just part of her stage persona...
Claire O'Malley
"This one is Irish, I’m guessing."
I don’t know her well, I’ve just seen her and all her freckles at the grocery store once or twice.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Ugh, what an awful suit… he must have gotten it from a charity bin."
I don’t know him other otherwise. Gods, man, were you even trying to look good?
Ethan Cooper
"..."
This stranger is surprisingly attractive.
Alfie Liau
"Oh, Alfie! I like Alfie."
Some vampires are just a hoot to be around, and he’s one of them. I’ve never seen him mope about what he is, unlike most ‘monsters’, and I adore his “grab life by the balls” attitude. I’m glad we’re neighbors, and friends.
Astrid Kitchener
"She works at that bistro nearby."
I’d rather make a meal of her than be served one by her. Very pretty girl, woefully human.
Michael Elior Harel
"Stopped in his Record shop once before… piss poor selection."
That’s not true. I’m just not a fan of “God’s warriors”. I miss the days of old, when the gods displayed their power and might by walking among men. Angels are nothing but egotistical pricks.
Aila Atleo
"I don’t know her, sorry."
What? I’m not lying, I really don’t know her. Should I?
Emerson Maddox
"Can’t trust a lawyer...."
He’s too young and far too cocky to be a good lawyer. And no, I’m not anti-lawyer by any means. In my line of work, you need to have a few friends that know their way through and around the law. How do you think I get my fake papers every few years? Maybe if I get arrested locally and need help in a pinch - which could happen, admittedly - I’ll use my phone call to ring him. How could you not remember that number, what with the annoying jingle the telly plays on his commercial… all the more reason to not watch the telly.
Talia Halbrook
"That’s the doll that sold me this lovely home."
She’s easy on the eyes, too bad she’s not a lust demon.
Liam Woodsworth
"What a life? Yes, that was sarcasm."
I can't pretend to know what it's like do be a Dhampire. It seems gods awful, I can't believe Ali managed to bring kids like him into the world. Weak, sickly creatures... I hope I haven't made any! Shit... I should be more careful. Anyway, there are those who know how to party, and those who take it too far. I'm sure you can guess where this bloke falls on that spectrum.
Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson.
"He's new in town, works at the same library as that bird we talked about earlier."
Freddie may be the only witch in town that I don't mind. I've only chatted him up a time or two, but he doesn't seem as flippant as some of the other witches, and I can tell he's a good study. Despite all it's fantastical mysticism, magic is a science that deserves just as much study, dedication, and practice as any other. It's never a bad idea to have at least one witch in per city on my side, he just might shape up to be my London Witch.
Ryan Croft
"Those glasses are... what's the word for that style? Hipster? Yeah, I think that's it."
Head of the five-0 and an angel? He just might be the worst bloke in this city. I'll pass on any false pleasantries here. It's best that he doesn't ever see my face... something tells me he'd just know if he did. Too risky.
Aiden Lewis Phillips
"He's hit on me at the pub before, along with practically everyone else there."
Aiden's a nice enough bloke. Pretty young for a vampire, but has a brilliant mind. It's nice to be able to hold an intelligent, scientific conversaion with him. We aren't best mates by any means, but we've only just met.
Eternity Loveless
"Hmmm. Can I keep this picture?" *smirks*
Never met her, but I'm really hoping that changes. Love the hair.
Patrick Kershner
"You know how you can sometimes tell what a person is like just by looking at them? Well... he looks boring."
He's also another werewolf on the police force. Why the hell do I like living here again? I guess this is one way to make eternity pass by in an interesting manner...
Nicodem Kaminski
"Oh, Nic... I don't think he likes me much."
Yeah, we met quite a few years back. We played a game of poker and I made out with a good sum of his money. He didn't take too kindly to that. Now he's a police commissioner where I currently live. Whoops?
Anastasia 'Alison' Psomas
"Is that the best photo you could get of her? She looks... tired."
But that's just my shallow first impression, I don't know this girl. Maybe she's a dhampire? She kinda has that 'run ragged' look going on. Or maybe she's a junkie...
James Bright
"Looks like he's just a high school kid."
I've never seen him around before. |
1,042 | 14 | 57 | 1,435 | 3,655 | Location: Churchhill Gardens, 5B (House Mayhem)
Interacting with: Roomie5lyfe (doesn't even know his name)
Soft. Almost kind of soothing. The new voice that chimed in, after her moving crew went inside the apartment with some of her furniture, was rather melodious. The Unseelie-blooded woman couldn't help but listen to him with intrigue. Bringing her attention to the pasty male, her blonde hair moved along with her head turn, as her chartreuse green stare met with his chocolate orbs. She didn't respond right away. Actually, she let her eyes take him in and trail down his physique. Her expression was unreadable as she analyzed the man's appearance and the way he held himself. Though his attire was not the classiest, she did like how he wasn't dressed appropriately for this beautiful weather. If she wore a thin summer dress and no shoes, while dancing in the snow, people would question her sanity but the cold felt amazingly nice on her skin. She couldn't help but love it!
There was a devious gleam in her eyes.
"Let me tell you about our apartment." And with that, Ettie strolled into the building. Her two worker bees came out of her bedroom. Waving at them, the young woman cooed, "Hey Boys! Can you give us a few minutes? Bring my shit to the hallway out there or something." Not questioning her, they did exactly as she said, leaving the room and closing the door behind them. Gesturing to her roommate's couch for him to sit, she pulled out a pack of Insignia cigarettes. Her throat had been itching for one for quite some time. Placing the stick between her lips, she dug into her purse for her matches. Yeah, a bit old fashioned but she preferred matches over lighters. After lighting her cigarette and shaking the match in her hand, Ettie placed her box of cigs on the coffee table, along with the matches. Taking a long drag in, Eternity let the smoke settle in her body before gently exhaling. With a challenging gaze, the fae insisted, "Feel free to have one if you smoke." Leaving him in the living room, she went to the garbage can and tossed the used match away.
A blanket of silence enveloped the room. Eternity loved to build anticipation. Plus, she needed time to enjoy her poison.
Entering the living room once more, Ettie addressed the matter at hand with a small grin, "If we're going to live together, we need to lay all our cards on the table. I'll go first." Her tone was self assured, dominant, and a tad bit fresh. Her aura reflected a woman who would get what she wanted, at all cost. She was strong and wanted to make sure this sickly looking man, known as her 'roomie' now, was on the same page as her, "Don't be a pussy and be straight with me. I don't bite-- too hard." Her expression was inquisitive, as she thought and spoke about her prerequisites, "Lets see, I'm rearranging absolutely everything in here for my own sanity. You will see me in my bra at some point. Maybe even nude. Eh, probably even nude. I like doing my work in the living room and cannot have interruptions unless you're offering to help me with my shit. I will need some kind of light so if this... 'shade'" She gestured to the shutters of the window, "Is kind of your thing, we're gonna have to meet each other half way. I'd like to replace all your iron belongings, like frying pans and such. I will be installing an air conditioner because I prefer a cold house. My job could possibly get you killed!" Her face went straight, as her words went to a complete halt. Her look broke with a light chuckle and a quick drag, "Nah! I'm just kidding!-- I think. Just know, if I don't come home one night, you might want to look into it! Lets see, what else... OH! I can't cook for shit, so my slowcooker is godsend. And this is a MUST, I need the best internet. I can't handle snail speed. So, if you don't have it already, can ya upgrade?" Feeling accomplished with her list, she stared at the ceiling, trying to think if she had anything else, "I got nothing. Your turn."
Her eyes widened at a thought. Scurrying closer to him, she gestured for him to give her a hug, "Oh! By the way, I'm Eternity. Eternity Loveless. Call me Ettie." She stared at him waiting for an embrace, "Come, don't be awkward. You'll be stuck with me for awhile, might as well break the ice with a hug." | - snipped and put in storage until future reference - |
1,043 | 14 | 58 | 709 | 301 | Liam Woodsworth
Location: Churchhill Gardens 5B
Interacting With: Ettie
Well, this was happening. Liam took in this woman's form, how she was so...commanding for her stature. She seemed powerful. Like the world could be falling to pieces and if it wasn't on her schedule, then the apocalypse would have to begrudgingly find another date. It shocked him, left him somewhat slack-jawed, and he didn't snap out of this until he was led inside his own place and told to sit down. He most definitely took a cigarette when offered and pulled a lighter from his pocket, striking and lighting before taking a drag to reorganize his mind.
The silence built, as if a gun was being loaded, and suddenly, the bullets started flying. Demands, ultimatums, orders and facts all cascaded down on Liam's scrawny shoulders, his dark, bloodshot eyes blinking as his way of life was effectively dismantled and rebuilt. Once she stopped, Liam slowly nodded. Reasonable enough.
A deep breath, and then Liam was firing his own weapon, "This house is loaded to the brim with drug paraphernalia, I've got the life expectancy of a well-groomed dog, so I intend to enjoy it. I am not an addict, however. There's blood in the fridge that's necessary for my survival. The computer and mixing equipment are only to be moved by me, they're sensitive and it takes forever to dismantle." Liam made an exaggerated shrug with that statement, then continued, "The dark is kinda required because if the sun hits me directly, I don't exactly tan well if you catch my drift. You can open the blinds in rooms that you're in, but close them when you're done. Air conditioner is fine, cold suits me. You can replace the cookware as long as you buy the replacements, I'm on a tight budget. Menial and dead-end job, you understand. I do make music though, and am very loud." Liam smirked at her joke about her job, but offered some reassurance, "I've got a friend with connections, hunting you down wouldn't be an issue. And yes, dear, my internet is the best. It's the only thing I pay extra for. Oh, and that's Squeaks," He pointed to the terrarium, "you are to show him the utmost respect, and if we are to separate for any reason, I get custody. Period."
After that whole spiel, Liam realized that he just totally confessed his Dhampire nature to a complete stranger. She did say to leave all the cards on the table...so he did just that. He smiled his best smile and gave Ettie a big ol' hug, careful not to burn her with his cigarette. "Liam Woodsworth. Elliot if I'm in trouble." Liam pulled back, taking a long drag before tapping it into an ash tray on his table. "Well, come on then. Let's get your shit in here." | Liam Woodsworth
Dhampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Elliot Liam Woodsworth
He prefers the informality of Liam
| Date of Birth |
October 19, 1992
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Liam works as an IT assistant at a local tech shop, mixes music as a hobby, and volunteers at a blood bank for his less savory needs. Yes, the last one is morally dubious, but he’s not going to be around long enough to actually care, now will he? On the music note, he tends to whip up tracks with heavy bass and high tempos, as he finds them euphoric...almost as euphoric as the recreational drugs that may eventually overtake his work ethic.
| In-Depth Appearance |
”That poor boy...darling, do you eat?
”Damn my boy, have you seen a doctor? Pale as a ghost, ya are.”
Sickly. Liam is sickly. He is tall, gaunt, pale...and he isn’t even fucking sick most of the time. He blames it on his lineage, daddy was an awfully stereotypical bloodsucker. Maybe it’s the rapidly degenerating body? Maybe it’s his refusal to indulge his hemo-cravings until absolutely necessary? He doesn’t care, really. Liam’s got places to be, stunts to do, and a short life to live. This is apparent in his messy medium-long brown hair, disheveled fashion of band shirts and loose ripped denim, and a general air of “I really don’t give a fuck, come not give a fuck with me”. His brown eyes speak of a troubled past and a carefree future, of resignation and of the triumphant freedom in that revelation. Liam’s voice is soft, enticing, as though it itself realized the throat it was bound to was horribly unfitting and made a show to be better. To be a selling point.
When you’re a local pariah, ya have to have something going for ya, right?
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Morbid ♦ Relaxed ♦ Indulgent ♦ Welcoming ♦
There is a comfort in knowing death is coming.
You become prepared. You enjoy every moment, every pain, every sensation that smolders on the neurons. Liam has accepted this, and he relishes it. It’s relaxing, and he exudes this calm repose around him. Those that aren’t aware of his supernatural bastard status are always laid back around him, if not worried by his random pains and sickly pallor. Those that are...well, he’s not obnoxious enough to warrant a lynch mob yet. But who knows what’ll come in the future... sure would save him pill money.
Pill money that could go towards more fun pills! Since he knows his time is short, Liam takes every chance he gets to explore the unsavory and wonderful of the world. Drugs, alcohol with dubious origins and long names, ancient rituals that cause really weird spirit trips, (he had to give a “favor” to a Witch for that one but damn was it worth it. Ever see ancient cosmic deities play limbo with a meteor belt? Liam has.), are all things he has and is willing to try. Dangerous stunts are also kinda fun, when the crippling pains aren’t hitting hard. There are no limits to what he’ll try. Of course it’s dangerous, sometimes deadly. Sometimes it’s kind of like daring Death to make its move.
Sadly, this applies to people too. He blazes through relationships and sex like it’s nothing but a carnal transaction. Maybe one day he’ll find someone that quences his cravings. Likely? Liam doesn’t think so.
But in all respects, Liam wants friends. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants stories passed around about him after he moves on from Edgetoun. Stories about that crazy ass pale kid that did a somersault off a building after three lines of coke and a tab of acid, lived, and then ran a 500. Okay...that’s excessive and he’d probably be dead after the first part of that, but...the point is there. As such, he doesn’t want to hurt people either. The option to get that street shit from dealers was a tempting one, but that blood could come from anyone. Anything. Through...less than fun means. At least at the blood donor center, that was willingly given. No violence or pain, even if it’s stealing...he tries to take what’s in abundance, none of the important rare shit. He doesn’t deserve that.
In the end, when you have a very short time to experience life, you shouldn’t waste that life on brooding and sorrow. Get out there, live...no matter what everyone says. No matter if you’re the monster they say you are.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Electronic music No words. No hidden meanings. Just raw emotion. It’s delightfully primal.
✔Adrenaline rushes Ya know when you’re on a coaster and your balls just go right up in your stomach? Yeah. That’s what I like.
✔New things So much to do, so much to see, so much to- Alright, I’ll stop. Sorry.
✔Fall England’s nice in the fall. Cloudy, damp...it’s comforting.
✔A good adventure graphic novel The art, man! Plus, less words, faster reading, meaning more awesome shit for me.
✔Jaffa cakes Tiny. Portable. Orangey. They are my one true love.
✔So many drugs. Specifically acid and coke, and any eldritch shit he can get. Oh the places you will go…
✘Staying home As much as I’d like it to, my mix board doesn’t usually talk to me. Usually.
✘Those who waste what they have Almost everyone has so much left to live. So much to give to society. Why the fuck would you throw that away?
✘Sulky folks Aw, cheer up mate. Wanna grab ice cream? Fucking love ice cream.
✘Violence Come on. Talk your shit out. You start busting heads, I’ll split you the fuck up. Got it?
✘Salad. Or anything vaguely green. It's crispy fucking water. That's gross.
✘Sunny weather. Fuck you, dad.
✘Dependency. I'm a strong, independent abomination. Well...less strong, more independent. Ya get me, yeah?
| History |
The fall brought with it cool air, warm homes, a time for families to come together…
And produce an awful bastardization of life.
Liam came into the world a screamer. Like he already knew, day one out of the womb, that he was already on his way out. He got all of his screaming out then.
Born to a middle class mother and a bloodsucking poppa that bolted the minute he knew one of his dark little swimmers hit home. Yeah, typical daddy issues, blah blah...Liam never really cared much past passive aggressive comments and normal annoyances. His mother Trisha lived with her parents then, the three of them taking care of this sad, ill child. It was rough, and they never really understood what he was. The father had the eventual courtesy, about five years in, to inform poor Trisha about what exactly she’d brought into the world. She didn’t believe the fucker, of course.
Until Liam really started liking raw meat.
Not the meat itself, but the leftover blood in the package. Terrified, confused, and just feeling awful all around, she had to reorganize her life and her idea of parenting to fit this child. She packed up and they moved to the countryside.
And so began the “Don’t Bite” motto of life. Liam learned not to hurt folks to stop his own pain, to enjoy what he had...like a mother that didn’t try and kill him with a stake. She cared more to give her son what he needed...blood. Her blood. Just enough to keep him sated. Liam learned respect, caring, and restraint, qualities sometimes not found in his full-blooded kin.
There was a rough spot in secondary school when Liam learned that he wasn’t going to live a long, happy life. The pain was a sign. The slightly quick growth, another. And once he ran into a couple vampires that were flying under the radar, they made him understand how low he was. That he was a mistake. Suddenly, parties became enticing, every new drink and drug an experience worth dying for. Trisha had to go through hoops to keep doctors from drawing his blood, let alone run any drug tests on him. Their relationship was strained around then, and once Liam graduated he left for London to cool down and mature.
Fast-forward, and Liam’s working a menial job to make ends meet in Edgetoun. IT work fit him, since he spent a large portion of his teens messing with electronic instruments and computers his few friends had. Plus, lots of people needed help with their newfangled gadgets and gizmos, and he was happy to help and talk to them. Recently, he’s back in touch with his mother and patching things up...while not telling her about all the crazy shit he does for fun. No need to worry her.
But how can she not be worried when her pariah of a son is on the ass end of a bloody race war?
| Family |
Trisha Woodsworth | Mother : A kind, gentle woman, with a fair bit of paranoia. You get that when your kid’s kind of on the chopping block.
| Strengths |
Incredibly open-minded
Curious
Protective
| Weaknesses |
No real restraint
Locked to his path, sees no other future; “Blinders” on
Lacks any sort of commitment
The Other
| Theme Song |
Marry The Night – Lady Gaga
”I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen
Live passionately tonight”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens 5B
| Extra Information |
Liam has a lizard named Squeaks. That fucker knows shit. |
1,044 | 14 | 59 | 2,015 | 780 | Nicodem Kaminski
Location: Returning to 14 Pratchett Road, Faircourt
Interacting With: Mentions of Opallum , Ryan
As the sun rose over Edgetoun, Nicodem Kaminsky rounded the top of Pratchett road and jogged the last few houses to complete his circuit of the borough. He'd been awake for several hours already, starting off with exercises and some blade work before setting off on his run. In his ears, a dull monotone outlined useful phrases in Polish. After he carefully pulled off his running shoes and left them on the porch, he reached down to pause the walkman, gently remove the cassette tape and place it in its plastic case. If he was a little more at home with technology, Nicodem might have invested in a mobile phone to play music, track his time and distance and generally be more efficient than his venerable walkman. But if it ain't broke, don't replace it was one of Nicodem's mottos so he continued using a walkman bought in the 80s and teach-yourself-Polish cassette tapes found in the back of dusty charity shops. Before going to the shower, he dug around in the pockets of the big black coat hanging on the pegs by the door. After a couple of seconds rummaging he retrieved a small, well thumbed notebook and a pen. He'd seen a few things on his run that could do with recording.
On the page titled 'Opallum' with a photo of a young man sitting on the street and looking into the middle distance, he wrote:
"Subject still seems unbothered by cold, despite intervention of Unseelie, further evidence of demonic nature?"
A few pages on, under the heading 'Incident developments', he wrote:
"Unseele winter continues, protest likely to claim lives any day now. Werewolf murdered in captivity, accused of manslaughter (lost control and killed a child) but not tried due to intervention of 'Helsing'. Requires attention and investigation, speak to Ryan."
He'd been running past one of the shops with TVs in the windows when he's seen 'werewolf' and 'murder' in the same sentence on the subtitles and needed to stop immediately to catch himself up with recent events. On the one hand, the werewolf's lack of discipline had cost the life of and child and, in a round about way, himself. There again, murder is murder and the due process is there for a reason. It's just what the current climate didn't need, however, what with everyone's tempers being inflamed by the Unseelie ice and snow. Perhaps he should talk with the two werewolves down at the station, get an inside view on the problem? Nicholas probably won't respond to that too well but Aila might be more receptive, especially as she's gunning for a new job. Talk it over with Ryan, see what he says.
Tucking the book back into the coat pocket, Nicodem went to shower, dress (another dark grey suit with silken tie of creamy green) and then feed the rats. Normally their hutch stood outside in the garden but the cold had driven Nicodem to let them into the house for now. They squeaked happily and devoured the food pellets as soon as they ascertained that he was here to give them food, not take blood. Rats have surprisingly long memories where syringe needles are involved. With the rats fat and happy, he went to the kitchen to see about some breakfast. Truth be told, he probably didn't exactly need it and who knows what Ryan needs, but eating modern food is just so satisfying he was prepared to put in the effort.
Heating up the pan, he selected one of the many packets of gourmet sausages from the fridge and glanced at the label. "Infused with herbs and spices". Huh. If you saw green bits in your sausages back in the old days, you very carefully ate around that bit and then threw it in the fire when the cook wasn't looking. Modern sausages probably don't even contain any sawdust, he mused as he slapped a few into the pan to a satisfying sizzling sound. To add something more to the meal he put on some baked beans and started some toast, as well as putting the tea on. Coffee was just a little too much effort right now and tea just involves dropping the bag in and waiting, much less investment.
When he'd got a good looking plate of beans, sausages and buttered toast, he picked up a mug of tea and walked up the stairs to Ryan's room and gave a light knock.
"Breakfast, your commissionership?" He said, his tone light but with a definite tone of mocking. | Basic Information
| Name |
"Ramiel but you must call me Uncle Rammie, mon chéri."
Ramiel or Uncle Rammie, as he insists people call him.
| Date of Birth |
"Ah, too old for you my darling."
Who knows? Around the Boulangerie there are pictures of him from long, long ago that he doesn't talk about.
| Gender |
"Does it matter? I am who I am."
His true form is essentially a genderless spirit though his mortal body would traditionally be considered male.
| Sexuality |
"Why, are you looking for tips? Then you came to the right place!"
Asexual panromantic, not that you'd know it from his bawdy jokes, knowledgeable tips and general air of sexual confidence.
| Occupation |
"Working hard or hardly working, non?"
Owns and manages a boulangerie in Edgetoun called Heavenly Treats.
| In-Depth Appearance |
"Uncle Rammie keeps himself healthy, even amidst all this sugar, I'm sure you've noticed."
Clean cut features that settle easily into a grin or laugh suit Ramiel well, he's very pleased with his earthly form. So pleased that he makes sure to keep it fit and healthy though not always clean shaven. He's experimented with a pencil moustache and a roughish five o'clock shadow but always gravitates back to a smooth jaw line within a week or two. There's something about the honest appearance of being well shaved that appeals to Ramiel, he thinks it makes him look more approachable. For the same reason, he likes to wear glasses when reading, despite having extremely good eyesight, because it humanises him. He prefers to dress in clothes that are comfortable, well fitting and slightly revealing. Shirts with the top three buttons undone and well cut v-neck jumpers are two of his favourites. For colour, Ramiel likes starched light whites offset by blacks or pastel paint colours like chalky reds and cloudy blues. Cheerful colours that make you think of boating on the Thames in the sunshine on a summer afternoon.
Perhaps Ramiel's best tool for putting people at their ease is his voice. It's like syrup to the ear, sweet and soothing. His accent is almost aggressively French, h's disappearing and r's going on forever. Though he's technically not French, he's spent enough time in France and speaks the language fluently enough to not really see it as lying to pose as a Frenchman. To be fair, he doesn't actually tell people he's French, they just hear his accent, notice the French words he uses in regular conversation and see that he runs a boulangerie and make their own assumptions.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Caring ♦ Friendly ♦ Bawdy ♦ Nosey ♦
"I'm just a man, just a baker. Here, have a croissant."
If you come into Heavenly treats, the first thing that hits you is the delicious smell of baked goods. The second things is the riot of pastel colours, from the marigold floor to the rainbow hued pastries shelf. The third thing will be the boisterous, heavily accented voice calling "Bonjour! Welcome to Heavenly Treats! Are you here for sweet food or some naughty gossip because, darling, I have plenty of both!" And you have entered the world of Ramiel. He'll leave one of the young employees to work the till, sit you down, pour you some of his delicious coffee, put an eclair in front of you and draw out your deepest, darkest secrets with a knowing smile and a cheeky wink. And you'll tell him, because the longer you sit there and talk, the more you feel a warmth in your chest and a smile on your lips. So you'll throw your secrets into the deep well of Uncle Rammie's twinkling eyes and leave the boulangerie feeling like you're walking on clouds. He'll welcome the next person into the shop, do the same thing again and never tell the secrets entrusted to his care. Instead, he deals in gossip that doesn't matter to anyone (what Sharon is naming her new child, what Damien's new tattoo will say, whether Lucy will enter the talent show), trading silly jokes with leather wearing bikers and woollen clad grannies alike.
That's Ramiel, Archangel of hope. To him, there's nothing more important than listening to you talk yourself into a better mood and nothing more enjoyable than trading in trivial gossip. Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves, he says as he puts another delectable baking masterpiece in front of you. One might think he's given up on the great fight between good and evil but in fact he's decided to... creatively reinterpret his own role in the battle. He's seen the hope of millions crash and burn, the dreams of the people crush them and the heroes of the past become the twisted villains of history. So now he works on changing the little things and spreading hope on a personal level. Happy people make a happy world and lovely cakes make happy people, though he'll help with more than cakes and a shoulder to cry on. Ramiel has more than a few contacts, old friends who owe him a favour or two, who are happy to offer a job to anyone recommended by Ramiel. So if you need help not thinking dark thoughts or paying your rent, come and talk to Ramiel, knowing that the only price is that you do the same for someone else when he asks you to.
He doesn't just deal in your anxiety and woe, though. Did you forget your fiancé's birthday? Don't worry, Ramiel is waiting for you in the shop with their favourite cake in their favourite colour with a personal message from you to them in icing. He knows you'll do better next time and that the two of you will be very happy together. Did your class run late, your bus get delayed, your lunch not quite happen and you're late for your night job? Don't sweat it, he's got your favourite sandwich in a bag and refuses payment until you're back on your feet. He doesn't forget your birthday or wedding anniversary, he remembers your favourite food and drink, what days you tend to run late and forget to eat. He'll do his best to smooth over the crinkles in your life and shake it off with a grin and a wink.
| Likes & Dislikes |
"I like what any cultured person likes and dislike what every sensible world citizen dislikes."
✔ Good food, fine drink and lovely company.
✔ Gossip, the more trivial the better.
✔ Making people feel happy.
✔ Romantic comedies, the cheesier the better.
✔ Karaoke, though his singing voice is awful.
✔ Making people blush with his jokes.
✔ Anyone who can have a laugh.
✔ Puns, the more awful and corny the better.
✔ Cigarettes, for full the image of the French Man.
✘ Cheap, mass produced fast food.
✘ Action films, too loud and too boring.
✘ People who can't keep a secret.
✘ Angels that judge other angels.
✘ Humans that judge other humans.
✘ People that takes themselves too seriously.
✘ Cigars, eugh!
| History |
"I've been here and there, done this and that. Now enough about me, let's talk about you. How are you feeling?"
What is the history of any Archangel? Ramiel was put on the earth, along with his six siblings, to champion the cause of his virtue in the lives of mortals. Hope was Ramiel's cause, the light in the hearts of all men and women that helps them walk when tired, fight when weary and laugh when all is lost. And, in the name of the divine, Ramiel was the light of hope for many, many years. Hero, champion, leader, healer, Ramiel trained many of them to bring hope to the people and did his duty as he saw it for a long, long time. For the most part, he played the role of mentor and teacher, occasionally stepping into the limelight to play a small but pivotal role.
But things didn't seem to change. Heroes became villains, dreams became burdens and hope never seemed to prevail. History paints a sad picture of hope being the crutch of the desperate and the fantasies of the delusional and one day it got to Ramiel. The inherent hopelessness of his task bore down upon him and he teetered on the brink of falling. Some might consider that he did. To Ramiel, however, he merely choose a new approach to the mission. Rather than work at an international level where the consequences of failure are dire for millions, he chose to work at a personal level, bringing hope to one person at a time and sending them out into the world to spread it.
About ten years ago, he opened the Heavenly Treats boulangerie in Edgetoun's centre and has done a brisk trade in pastries, cakes, bread, gossip and hope since then. It has a high staff turnover as Ramiel deliberately employs ne'er do wells who have no job or prospects, taking them under his wing, training them up and then sending them on to higher paying positions in more central bakeries and restaurants. Is his method the most efficient way of pursuing his mission? Perhaps not but those people whose lives have been touched by his words can attest to its effectiveness.
| Family |
"Ah, you are are all my family, darlings! Everyone that comes in, for cake or for chatter, you are all part of my clan!"
Ramiel has six siblings, created at the same time as him and given their own missions. Two live in Edgetoun, a Police Commissioner and a record store owner. Apart from them, Ramiel has no children or significant others. As he says, he considers almost everyone he talks to a family member and genuinely tries to help each and every one of them.
| Strengths |
"As long as I've a cigarette in one hand, a glass of wine in the other and Cherry by my side, I'm as strong as I need to be!"
Charming, empathic and good at making you feel good.
Kind, likes nothing more than lightening another's load in whatever way he can.
World class chef, baker and listener.
| Weaknesses |
"I can resist anything. Except temptation!"
Apathetic about large scale, world changing events.
Doesn't really listen to people saying "No, I'm fine" or "I want to handle things myself".
Doesn't know how to deal with negative emotions, prefers to ignore them.
Finds it hard to accept thanks or payment.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Memories – Waldeck
”All those souvenirs in my memories
got me going down in strike
all those souvenirs in my memories
got me ruining my soul.”
| House Number |
"Are you going to come and visit me? Should I lock my doors and windows or leave them wide open?"
Probably somewhere in Faircourt.
| Extra Information |
"No, no, no! I'm the only one that gets to know all the juicy secrets! You've got this the wrong way round!"
Has excellent hearing and vision, good at picking up small details and things said under one's breath.
Loves a good French wine but will settle for an inferior nation's wine in a pinch.
Blake Preston
"Her blogging and youtubeing are very nice, I sometimes watch a video now and then. She's a little angry though, maybe she's frustrated? I will have to talk to her about it and see how she feels, maybe she needs a partner."
Hmmmm... Why not her roommate Eve? Yes, yes, she's a demon, I know, but she seems like a nice girl and she is French. I will talk to Blake and then maybe put a word in Eve's ear.
Daniel Belson
"Daniel and Ehtan, poor boys. Have they resolved their ‘confusion’ about the girl yet?”
Ethan helps Daniel, I believe, and the both of them help Aila.
Alistair Queen
"Ah, Alistair. He works hard and plays hard and who is to judge? The little girl, she has been a good influence on him, I think, and I imagine that another constant in his life might not go amiss either."
But who? Well, he seems fond of Loki but I'm not sure that he is a positive influence. If I am not mistaken and I rarely am, he and Nikita have done the deed once or twice but feel no particular fondness for each other. One to think about.
Mariska Costas
"Mariska seems to follow my own heart, the heart of hopeless romantic. Perhaps she would get on well with Elsie? Hmmm... I will talk them both."
Nymphs, what beautiful creatures! I remember other times when their songs were not such rarities. But that was yesteryear, we must concern ourselves with the now.
Nikita Yankovsky
”Apathy can be a sexy quality, ask all those mopey teenage pop-stars. It is not a healthy though and leads nowhere pleasant.“
I have no doubt she could be made to feel rather more content with her existence than she currently is but she would need to want it.
Mordred Hame
”I haven’t seen him around here recently, his loss.“
If he wants Uncle Rammie’s help, he’ll need to show his face now and then.
John Taylor
”Ah, John. A tragedy in motion, like a car hurtling towards a wall. I can help many people in many ways but I do not think I can help him, not yet.”
In fact, I think there’s only one way that anyone will be able to help him.
Eve Lumière
”Another citizen of the republic on this dreary little island? Hourra! True, she is a little bit too quick to make friends but I have never been one to judge too harshly. She is always welcome to my little corner of heaven.”
And she is so prolific in her work! Spreading the joy in her way might not get the divine seal of approval but it gets mine.
Catharine Reid
”She used to come in here all the time but I have not seen her in a while. Perhaps she moved?“
A shame, such a nice girl.
Opallum
”Such fire! A very hot individual, as I am want to point out now and then.“
Some demons try to hide their nature from mortals, especially before we ’others’ were outed but not this Ifrit, he’d prefer everyone see him sit in the cold of winter with not a visible sign of discomfort. At least he seems satisfied with his position, otherwise I might have to step in.
Andrew Mordekai
”Merde, I am sweating! I think we must find him a friend before I succumb to temptation!”
True to tell, it will take something more than a beautiful man to make me ‘fall’ but he is still beautiful. Fire in the heart, fire in the soul. I am sure there are many others who would appreciate such a man.
Suriel White
”Sometimes, I think that I am wasting my time with these delicious delicacies, you know? Mostly I feel that way after talking to Suriel. They work so hard and help so many people. I hope they know the work they do is so ”
“Some angels preach or overreach, but some are kind and humble
Forgive and forget they say, no matter the trip or stumble”
Miles Catrose
”Sometimes little people want to take up the whole world, because it’s that or be overlooked. Miles is a good boy who needs to be a little more sure and a little less insecure.”
Pixies are capricious and arrogant but good hearted. I am sure there’s someone around the place who could calm his temper a little. I should talk to him, I need a haircut…
Yukiko Abe
”What is the song, it goes “Heeey, foxy lady!” It’s funny, non?”
Well, I thought it was funny. Her kind are old and tricksy but not necessarily bad. I am sure she will be careful with her partners.
Mona
”Sad girl, I hope she finds herself. Or at least finds the way forward.”
Ghosts, poor creatures. Humans fear death so much that sometimes they opt out of the natural process, whether they meant to or not. If she comes to the shop, I will see what I can do for her but I’m not sure she will. Some people do not want to move on.
Faron Romane
”Sometimes it’s hard to escape from one’s parent’s shadows, I think. You should meet my parent one day. Or rather, you certainly will, eventually.“
People call him a fool or an idiot and I wonder whether some parts of him believe them. I am glad he has moved out into independence but perhaps he needs someone to build his self confidence.
Nicolas Black
”It is traditional for a Frenchman to object to the police on principle, particularly one with no discretion and a suspicious nose.“
He wishes to do good, I think, and how can I object to that? He has the look of a man with bad things in his past, things that are yet to leave him alone. Unfortunately he’s also one of those people who would rather suffer quietly than find a therapist. I must think on this.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
”I had a friend named Fiacre who loved plants very much, a long time ago now. He taught me a few little tips, small things he passed on to me which maybe I should pass on to her.“
Witches are like brandies; some are good, some are bad but they all pack a punch! That said, Maggie seems like she cares about doing the right thing and working hard.
Megumi
”A charming young lady with excellent manners. I find children who shriek and scream for cakes very annoying, none of that from her.”
But then, most children have not been children for as long as her, have they? I am glad she has found Mister Queen, they will be good for each other.
Stefani Roche
”A sweet child but a little moody, non? Ah, teenagers, we all remember those days, non?“
Another young vampire? Sad creatures in many ways, because they age but do not grow, get old but can not mature. I am glad both her and Megumi have found friends and carers though.
Ari Amari
”You know, I don’t like cats very much. They hunt for fun and sleep when they could be working. Why not get a dog? They’re hard workers and don’t kill for enjoyment.“
I did not think there were any Sphinxes left and I can not say I am particularly pleased to be mistaken. Many a stupid traveller was picked from the teeth of a sphinx in the old days. Still, he seems to have turned over a new leaf here. Let us hope it is sincere.
Katharine Haynes
”A charming young lady but I haven’t seen her in my shop recently.“
Does she still live here?
Felix Underwood
”Librarians are important, a society without librarians is just a group of people with no idea where to file things.”
Talking to the dead is… complicated. Some of my fellow angels do not like it, they see it as disturbing those who have earned their rest. And while I see why they might think that, it gives hope to those who can talk to their loved ones. And who am I to stand in the way of that?
Elise Callaghan
”Quiet people, I know I should not resent them but I always feel like they’re ignoring me. Me!”
Sirens, the call on the dark sea that drags you down and down. I had never heard of one that doesn’t sing, until now. One to watch, I believe.
Claire O'Malley
”I don’t know much about her, perhaps she doesn’t know much about herself?“
We’ll see if she drops into the shop at some point.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
”Working with children is a noble calling. You build tomorrow by crafting the future’s builders.“
Like myself, Barachiel continues to fight the good fight but has put down the flaming sword.
Ethan Cooper
”Ouff! What a beefcake! I wonder if he has a sweet tooth…”
Lives with a demon and a werewolf but knows neither of their natures? He’s either dense or kindly doesn’t pry. Either way, I imagine he is a positive influence on both of them.
Alfie Liau
”My only rival in the field of sweet treats for the people of Edgetoun! I shall have the better of him yet!“
He seems to be a good sort, I hope he continues to enjoy chocolate more than blood.
Astrid Kitchener
”Artists, they work much better when they have little to eat!“
She seems more accepting of ‘others’ than her father, as always seems to be the way. Generations upon generations, each one struggling to try and make the next accept their ideals. She is a hopeful step, however.
Michael Harel
”A handsome man, non? Well be careful what you say about him, he’s my… he’s an old friend.“
Brother, we are more alike now than ever before. I wonder how the one above thinks of us, working down here in the squalor of humanity. I hope he understands why, if he even thinks about us at all.
Aila Atleo
”A lovely girl, she buys her bread from me and laughs at my jokes! And as we all know, that’s all you have to do to make Rammie your friend for ever.“
Her past is fraught and fractured but she seems to be happy here. A job, friends and two almost fathers. Let us hope things stay that way.
Emerson Maddox
”Lawyers, pah! If they are defending you, you’d better hope you paid them more than the prosecution did.“
He seems arrogant and sharp tongued, two qualities I can’t stand. I do hope he comes into the shop one day, so I can find out a little more about him.
Talia Halbrook
”I haven’t seen her around for a while, I wonder how she is.“
Demons, they seem to be everywhere these days.
Loki Van Stenberg
”A handsome man and we all like having those around, do we not? I am not sure he is one half so pretty under the surface.“
In fact, I am certain he is not. Were I forced to guess, I would hazard he lives off others in more ways than drinking blood, probably through theft or other criminal activities. Vampires, too many of them are the monsters from the night to remember those who aren’t.
Freddie Hughes-Jackson
”We all like books but people can give conversation too! I think young Freddie forgets that sometimes.“
A good boy who studies hard and wants nothing more than to be left alone to do his magic, what could be better than that? Of course, I still like making him blush when he comes in for a little treat.
Liam Woodsworth
”Another child with apathy issues, another day.“
Dhampires, yet more victims of the plague of vampirism.
Aiden Phillips
”A pretty boy, he can take my temperature whenever he wants!”
Another vampire, though this one seems a little different to Queen and Stenberg. He has a secret, that much I’m sure of, but I doubt it is a dark one.
Ryan Croft
”Ah, our hard working police commissioner! I’ll stand him a drink of coffee and doughnut whenever he comes this way.”
I think the end may be coming, the reckoning might be on the horizon. And when the rapture comes, I wonder if we will stand together or apart, brother. Justice and vengeance, rarely do they inspire hope.
Eternity Illuria Loveless
”What does she do? Night crawling? I think we are thinking of different things when you say that, mon ami.”
Fae, I cannot say I like them. They are outside of the jurisdiction of Heaven and have no interest in the morality of humanity.
Patrick Kershner
”In every group, there’s the one who’s quiet because they know what happens when they open their mouths, sadly.”
And in every pack, there’s a runt. At least he is now part of two packs, the wolves and the police. And the latter seem a little more ardent in protecting their members.
Nicodem Kaminski
”What a face, what a voice! I’ve clearly got a challenger for Edgetoun’s most attractively exotic older man.”
A vampire that files down his fangs and is accepted by Raguel is more than a curiosity, he is a minor miracle. One to watch indeed.
Anastasia Psomas
”She looks like she certainly needs a good night’s sleep and a healthy meal.”
Phoenixes, tragic beings. They burn on and on, no end in sight and no respite on the horizon.
James Bright
”He doesn’t come over to the shop anymore. A shame, I was considering employing him.”
I hope he finds his killer and his peace, he deserves it.
Naomi Ishiguro
”A little strange, non? You don’t feel quite safe near her? There’s a reason for that.”
Were I a younger being, still full of wrath and righteous fury, I would fall upon her with Heaven’s own might. Now… I only hope to steer her prey away from her.
”Kei”
”Happiness is good, whatever the source. It’s net gain for the world, I think.”
Happy fae are not always happy because something good has happened, however.
Zoey Alston
”How many bartenders can Edgetoun possibly need?”
And how many witches? I hope there’s not some sort of occult or alcoholic conspiracy going. |
1,045 | 14 | 60 | 2,567 | 1,182 | Interacting with: The sex fiend Eve and texting Alistair, the looker (Eve's words, not hers)
"You're a freak, you know that?" Blake chuckled into her mug. Eve was one of the few people that could manage to coax a smile out of her, even in the wee hours of the morning — she knows that it's not particularly early right now. She's referring to the time that they both woke up at around 3 AM for some godforsaken reason, thank you very much. "Only you would try to seduce someone with a porno-esque manner. I don't know what's worse; people actually falling for that, or you actually succeeding without seeming ridiculous."
With a groan, Blake placed her mug upon the table and flipped over on the couch, sprawling out with a sigh. "Look at how many messages I'm getting about this whole thing. And counting!" She waved her phone towards Eve, scrolling through the multiple messages on her notifications before angrily jamming her finger on the screen. Delete, delete, delete, delete... "A lot of them are hate-stuff too. Like, would I be a vampire if I was like 'oh wow, wish I was a vampire!' and shit. These fuckers don't know what they're talking about, they just want a head on a stake."
Completely distracted by deleting the dozens of messages, Blake simply called out "You're the best!" Absentmindedly when Eve went out to grab all of the mail. As she was swiping past all of the comments on her facebook profile, her phone buzzed yet again. Even though she was fully prepared to eliminate more hate or ignorance from her phone, her thumb paused. It was from Alistair, and Blake could feel the heat rise to her cheeks as she recalled her roommate's promiscuous implications a few minutes prior. Dammit Eve.
As Eve walked back in, Blake sat up and immediately reached from the letters. Before she tore one open though, her back straightened up, and she did a double take. "Eve... Did you go out like that!? And you saw the neighbor person!?" Eve was shameless, she swore. Like, some kind of sex demon, even.
....Nah.
Lord of land, I shall make sure that Eve will be wearing clothes to protect poor Megumi's innocence.
Then Blake proceeded to bury her face in a pillow to disguise the standard blush that would inevitably appear whenever Eve would tease her. Despite everything, Blake is still pure and innocent too. | | Name |
Fiona Blake Preston
If you call her Fiona, she will cut you. It's Blake.
| Date of Birth |
October 13th, 1997
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Fluid
| Occupation |
High school dropout — Blogger/Youtuber and barista
Blake was never a straight A student. She often cut class, didn't turn in homework, didn't study... It was only a matter of time until she dropped out. Fortunately for her, she's found minor success in blogging. While she doesn't rake in the a LOT of money, it's enough to keep her afloat. As long as she keeps her barista job at this little coffee shop, she can get by with a little extra left over for herself.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Despite the fact that she's always telling people to "FITE ME," Blake is a rather frail and petite. She may be tough, and she may bite and claw and kick and play dirty, but at the end of the day she's a petite lady that only stands at 5'2. She definitely does not look physically imposing whatsoever. Her threats are often disregarded for good reason — Blake is in no way able to hold her own in a fight.
Blake is "unladylike" according to her mother. She doesn't sit up straight, and spreads her legs when she sits down. Even after years of being chastised by her mother, she hasn't learned (or rather, refused to learn) and her posture is the worst it's ever been and it makes her look even shorter than she actually is. There's usually a cigarette between her slender fingers, and when she's relaxing at all, she sprawls out all over the ground, bench, couch, chair... Whatever it may be. Yup, she's the type of person to sit at the edge of a seat and lean back, spread her arms and legs out and hog the entire thing.
It's obvious from her own sense of style (it's grunge, by the way) that she doesn't particularly put too much effort into her appearance. Her unruly hair is always tied up in a messy ponytail without a second thought or any particular styling. Her naturally brunette hair is hastily bleached with her roots beginning to show. Her face is usually devoid of makeup — it's too much work, and too girly. Oh, speaking of which, Blake will always always always resist wearing skirts or dresses or heels. It takes a lot of convincing to force her into one of those things. She's content with her ripped jeans, combat boots and flannel thank you very much.
"Blake Preston; Blogger, youtuber, queer extraordinaire, and general failure at life at your service."
| Personality |
♦ Hotheaded ♦ Temperamental ♦ Aggressive ♦ Tomboy ♦
A girl prone to outbursts of emotions, Blake is someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word "restraint." She lets her emotions run freely and away, often leaving her more rational brain behind. She doesn't hold back whatsoever; when she's angry, she rages. When she's sad, she wails. When she laughs, everything about her lights up. She's passionate, and she experiences life to the fullest. Sometimes a little too fully. Her passionate moods have a tendency to be volatile and rampant, often swinging wildly out of her own control. There's little to no chance in reasoning with her when she's upset in any way.
Blake has an adventurous streak that's unbound and unrestricted by rules. She bends and sometimes even breaks laws (to her, they're more like guidelines) to suit her needs. A lot of her interest was peaked by stories of the supernatural and the occult, so she's done her fair share of breaking into abandoned houses that were supposedly haunted and such. She's not a skeptic, she's a believer. There's just got to be something beyond humanity. It's a little cheesy, but her fascination with monsters, ghost stories, fortune telling... It's unparalleled. She's never been the type to sit down and study anything, but she's spent hours and hours poring over books concerning the mystical.
She's rather aggressive and isn't afraid to get into anyone's face. She can often be heard telling people to "FIGHT ME" and "Wanna say that to my face!?" and "I can take ya!" while shooting death glares. She's all talk though, and although she wouldn't hesitate to punch someone in the face, she knows that she's a bit too weak to really fight someone. It doesn't stop her from egging someone on though. That's landed her in a lot of trouble in the past when she bites off a lot more than she can chew and pushes someone too far.
Blake doesn't make friends very easily due to her temperamental and aggressive nature, but when she does make friends she displays a softer side. She cares a lot about many different things, and that includes the people close to her heart. She's overprotective, sometimes a bit smothering with her affection, and is a bit clumsy at being a friend, but she sure as hell is loyal and tries her very best.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Occult, ghost stories and horror movies
✔Chocolate milkshakes with whipped cream topping and a chocolate drizzle on top
✔Tim Burton movies
✔Bending rules and sneaking around
✔Spicy snacks like hot cheetos and takis
✔Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✔Thrills and adventure
✔Nachos
✔Fortune Telling (notably palm-reading and tarot cards)
✔Playing guitar
✘Being feminine
✘Cheesy romantic movies, gestures and whatnot
✘Feeling trapped
✘Being forced to do something (like schoolwork)
✘Licorice
✘Cats — They're cute but she's very allergic
✘Fancy chocolates
| History |
Can you believe that the tomboy-ish Blake was once a girl that dressed in Mary Janes, flouncy skirts and ribbons in her hair? When she was younger, Fiona actually went by her first name, and she was her mother's little angel and dress up doll. Coming from a very traditional family that adhered to gender norms and such, she was expected to be quiet and ladylike, while her brother was allowed to be unruly and wild. She didn't appreciate that at all. Why did she have to stay indoors and play house and dress up her barbies when her brother was allowed to play outside in the dirt?
It was around middle school when she started rebelling against her parents. You know, the dreaded "goth" phase that a lot of people go through when they're in the beginning stages of a teenager. She dyed her hair black, wore a ton of eyeliner, scoffed at the "prepz and pozers" and rejected everything that her mother expected her to be. Thankfully she grew out of it eventually, but she found herself a completely different identity than what she was supposed to be.
And you know what? She never looked back. She ditched the skirts, the ribbons, all of the pink and lace — much to her mother's chagrin. That's when her relation with her parents plummeted. They couldn't comprehend why she was being so rebellious. What happened to the sweet little girl that they raised? Where did they go wrong? She rejected her birth name of Fiona, started staying out past curfew, ditching school, started hanging out with the wrong crowd... Her grades were suffering, she stopped caring about things and started living for herself.
Needless to say, she didn't last too long at school or home after that. She dropped out of school in the middle of her Junior year, and moved out the moment she turned eighteen. She stayed at her friend's house for a few months, working the odd jobs until she had saved up enough to go rent her own place.
For years, she's maintained a blog and a youtube channel. In her sophomore year, it started really picking up and gaining popularity. She has a large following that are dedicated to her — enough for her to start making money off of those. She's fairly well-known as a presence on the internet. She talks about a lot of stuff on the two, but notably she explores various supernatural theories and the occult.
And now it's been confirmed that the supernatural do exist? Uh, can you say best day ever?
| Family |
Maria Preston - Mother — Maria Preston is Blake's strict mother. She had high expectations for her only daughter, and was extremely disappointed when she didn't grow up to be as she hoped. She wanted Blake to grow up to be a proper lady — educated, respected, independent, and to marry a nice man. A doctor, perhaps. Obviously Blake rebelled against it, and their relation has been strained ever since. They haven't talked to each other ever since Blake moved out a few years ago.
Michael Preston - Father — Michael has always been out and about, flying all over the world for his job. He's been absent for a lot of Blake's childhood, so Blake harbors some resentment towards him. He came back in her preteen years, just in time for her transition into a new person. Along with his wife, he tried a bit too hard to push Blake back into a more appropriate direction. He's been absent for the majority of her childhood; what does he know?
Andy Preston - Older brother — Blake has always been jealous of her brother; he always got to do all of the things that she wasn't allowed to. Nevertheless, the two have always managed to maintain a close relationship. He's her best friend, and is also the only family member she continues to contact every so often.
| Strengths |
Passionate
Free-spirited
Independent
| Weaknesses |
Stubborn
Short-fused
Overly and needlessly aggressive
Rebellious
"Don't you think that there's no way we're the only ones here? Science can't explain everything — There's something more out there. And I'm going to find out what; damn all the consequences. I want to know."
| Theme Song |
Bad Reputation – Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
”I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation
You're living in the past, it's a new generation
A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do”
| House Number |
Faraday Heights, 24A
| Extra Information |
She has over 10,000 followers on various social media
Fairly skilled with photography — nothing professional, but she has a good eye
At one point she worked as a professional fortune teller
"Bitch, you wanna go? Fight me." |
1,046 | 14 | 61 | 1,621 | 202 | Claire
At the Early Bean
Interacting with: Miles Barachiel Talia
Nope, nothing on her phone. Things seemed to be glacially slow today. Ironic, given the storm coming in. She finished her pastry, but there was nothing to do right now. She really didn't want to go home and unload her car yet.
She saw three people having a chat and decided to join them. Find an empty seat, she asked, "Is this seat taken, or can I join you for a little bit?" | | 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?
| 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).
| 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.”)
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 3B
| Extra Information |
- |
1,047 | 14 | 62 | 2,206 | 79 | Patrick Kershner
Location: Churchhill Gardens, 5B
Interacting With: Liam , Mystery Female?
Patrick was awake well before until the incredibly annoying buzzer on his phone went off. The noise did nothing to break his eyes away from his computer screen though. Instead he grabbed over in its direction knocking two empty water bottles to the floor before finding his phone and sliding the touch lock over to dismiss. The light from his screen was the only other source of light in the room and he could begin to tell they were watering up in response to not having blinked for a while. What was going on in the world this morning was just too good to pass up on though. It sure was going to be a busy day for the news media. And he was sure it would be pretty hectic back at the station with every reporter in London likely calling in for a statement.
Seemed like as good a day as any to use as one of his many saved up sick days. Maybe just blame it on the weather? He had been using his supply of sick and leave days a bit more liberally over the past few months but he doubted anyone at the station was really going to say anything. He always managed to complete his reports on time, and was good enough to give even some of the veterans a tip here and there. Wasn’t that what his generation was known for anyways? Not adhering to the previous generations strict work schedule but still getting the job done on time. He was pretty sure he read an article or two about that somewhere online. He supposed he could use it as a decent argument
if someone wanted to reprimand him back at the office.
Awww who was he kidding. If they wanted to reprimand him at work he’d take it like the poor redheaded step child he empathized with so well.
Finally he closed his eyes, leaned backed in his chair tilting just enough so he wouldn’t fall over before rubbing his eyes vigorously. God what was that awful smell? Oh. That was him. Guess it was time to at least attend to the hygienic portion of the day. Patrick then went about turning the lights on (cursing viciously as his eyes protested to the sudden light), showering, brushing his teeth, inspecting his beard in the mirror before throwing on a pair of his favorite skinny jeans and plain long sleeve shirt, finishing it all up with a pair of converse. He gave one last peak into the mirror to make sure his dark curly hair had just enough bed head that made it seem like he didn’t give shit. Because he didn’t. He just didn’t want to be made fun of for it.
He found himself automatically going out the door putting his head phones in so he could listen to some music for the walk ahead. On his days off he lately he spent most his time over at Liam’s place, preferring to not be by himself in his lonely apartment just staring at the screen feeling bad for himself. Oddly some social interaction with Liam was just enough to keep the young man content and keep his mind off his rather gloomy outlook on life in its current situation. At least until the next big game dropped. Then he’d be stuck in his apartment for a few months again.
About half way to the Churchhill Gardens and Patrick regretted not putting on something heavier, or at least grabbing a coat. He knew there was a storm coming, the weather being pretty much the last thing he read before he logged off his computer but he just really hated heavy clothing. Jackets, layers they all were just extra heavy weight that he’d have to discard and carry around when he got too hot to keep them on which was inevitable. Maybe he’d splurge on his budget and take a taxi or a bus back home later.
He thought his fingers were about to fall off as he finally arrived at the apartment complex. At first he didn’t notice the large men dropping furniture and boxes off right next to his best mates door, but when he did Patrick just stopped in his tracks. He double checked the building and apartment number a couple of times to make sure he was at the right place. He’d gone to the wrong apartment before. That was a rather embarrassing fiasco. But this was definitely Liam’s place. The next thought crossing Patrick’s mind was that Liam finally got evicted like he was threatened time and time again. Patrick quickly reached into his pocket to make sure he hadn’t missed any calls or texts. Nope still nothing. The whole time Patrick stood there the burly looking men continued to awkwardly move around him as they unloaded a literal truck load of supplies outside his friends place.
Patrick knew the only thing he could do would be to go and knock on the door but the thought of someone other than Liam answering made his stomach churn. And so he just stood there his mind yelling at him shouting at him, Open the door idiot. Just open the bloody door. You look more like a fool just standing here in the way. Should’ve just gone to work today. You’re going to look like the biggest idiot ever. But his body just remained ridged locked in place. It felt like he stood there for hours his mind raging a storm in his head before the door finally opened, thankfully to reveal a lanky and pale as ever Liam.
A deep sigh was released from Patrick’s body as his friend walked out. “What the hell is all of this? You win the lottery and go on a massive spending spree?” Was what he meant to say, but it got all chocked up in his throat as a female appeared behind the dhampire. So instead what he really said was, “What the hell, isssalll ack… um this?” The werewolf felt his face instantly turn bright red and stomach drop at the sight of the incredibly attractive female and decided to recover by placing his hands on his hips in an authoritative stance, causing him to elbow a passing worker and awkwardly rerecover by leaning against the building. A massive grin immediately split across his face adding to his awkward embarrassment as he wished he could make it go away. | The beard makes me look bad ass right?
Patrick Kershner
Werewolf
Basic Information
| Name |
Patrick Kershner. Not Patty. Patty is a girl’s name got it?
| Date of Birth |
28 July 1996.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Investigative Analyst
| In-Depth Appearance |
Imagine that nerdy kid that got stuffed in school lockers and dragged into the bathrooms by the school bullies because that kid is Patrick. Standing a lanky five foot ten, it’s as if his body went through all the functions of puberty but his arms and legs forgot that they were supposed to reach a certain atheistically pleasing ratio with the body during this period. This combined with the hell that was high school left the young man with a seriously lacking amount of self confidence and it shows on his face and the way he carries himself.
Patrick has a high pitched and what can sometimes be called nasally voice which he believes is the root cause of his tendency to mumble and speed through his sentences when he talks. But on the plus side his choice in clothing is fantastic despite the fact that he’s constantly defending it when he is around his know associates. Everyone knows skinny jeans are in nowa days.
To counter his meager, nerdy looking human side, at nights Patrick is a different man all together. Thick dark black hair will protrude from every office, and his nails will extend, and thicken to a sharpened point to resemble claw. His ears begin to resemble that of a dog or wolf, and his eyes enlarge taking on animalistic fierceness. Oh and there’s always the contorting transformation of his body into a six foot seven, two hundred sixty-five pound hulking mass of terror.
But on the bright side this whole werewolf thing has allowed him to grow a beard which he thinks really helps him look more manly and cooler.
You could say, I had my life together for a whole week before it fell apart again.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Shy ♦ Introvert ♦ Loyal ♦ Caring ♦
Being tortured most of your adolescent life tends to leave its scar on you. Patrick would rather fade into a crowd, yet secretly wants to be the center of attention. He simply wouldn’t know what to do once he was there and he’d probably just break down in panic attack. So he’ll just stick to the fading into the crowd bit. He generally hates the sound of his own voice so he tends to whisper and mumble around people he isn’t comfortable with but when he doesn’t think or know anyone is paying attention he’ll have full blown conversations with himself. Something to help ward of the loneliness he thinks. He’s serious push over with no real back bone to go against the tide and stand up for himself, some idea, or belief, even though he has a really strong moral belief on what’s right and what’s wrong. Really his whole outer shell is just a giant fake façade he puts on for the world, except its not… because you know you’re supposed to be able to stop a façade.
On the plus side when he’s around one of the few people in his inner circle that he’s comfortable with he’ll act without a care in the world. And not only that he’ll be extremely caring and loyal. Where he wouldn’t be willing to squash a fly for himself, he’d take on a whole coven of pissed of witches for one of his friends. Or if it would cheer a friend up at three in the morning he’ll literally run across town (the recent werewolf thing has helped with this) to buy the last chocolate bar being sold. So those are the positives.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔His computer, God knows what he’d do without it.
✔ Squirrels, you can’t say you’ve ever seen an ugly squirrel.
✔ Dogs, I know. Cliché with the werewolf bit but you like what you like.
✔ Thrills. At first he’ll say it’s a horrible idea but by the end he’s really glad he went along with it.
✔ Patterns, like patterns in numbers and studies and shit. Not like floral. Jesus.
✔ His room, good luck getting him out of their without a good deal of complaining.
✔ Texting, it’s so much easier than talking in person.
✘Large Crowds, that’s just asking for a panic attack.
✘ Authority figures, yet another cause of anxiety.
✘ Getting in trouble, nine times out of ten that’s gonna stay with you for the rest of your life man.
✘ Sports, just another excuse to get beaten up.
✘ Spiritual talk, makes him really uncomfortable.
✘ Flirting, did that once. Didn’t turn out so well.
✘ Vegetables, now he has a good excuse to not eat them.
| History |
Patrick’s life has been that of any normal nerd who gets picked on a lot in school for the most part. Good grades, leads to college, where you think things are gonna turn around for you until your anxiety reminds you that you are still you. So instead you spend most of your free time in your room on your computer playing games, while everyone else is going out and experimenting away. He really didn’t have any serious complains. A significant other would have been nice from time to time so he didn’t have to keep going to Rosey Palms. But that’s what really got him into trouble.
After getting out of school, Patrick landed a job with the London police force as a investigative analyst tracking crime patterns. It was actually a pretty decent time. The guys on the force treated him pretty well and he actually started to feel like a welcomed part of a group. In fact he had even been lucky enough to be asked out on a date one morning while he was standing in line waiting for coffee. She was a cute looking girl, who as far as Patrick could tell had a lot more experience at these things than he did. She asked if he wanted to go out to a club with her and a couple of her friends that Friday and eventually when he was done with his dorky gawking and stuttering he got out a yes.
Now suffice to say Patrick had never gone to a club before in his life. The whole thing was intimidating as hell. The girls all had some kind of guy on their arms and Patrick was pretty positive they could each mug him with just their pinky fingers. The getting patted down before being allowed into the club didn’t do much to calm his nerves as he had never guessed that was necessary before he entered. Once he got out onto the dance floor he shuffled around looking what he could only assume was like a complete idiot. He kept thinking that the girl was going to ditch him, but she stayed with him an actual smile on her face. Just when he let his guard down and actually started relaxing and having fun she pulled on his hand and led him off to some back room. That was where things got really bad.
He had never felt so much pain before and pain had been a pretty constant factor back in school. They shredded his skin, clothes, muscles, everything. He was pretty sure he was going to die right then in there killed by creatures that were never supposed to have existed on what had been the best night of his life. But they let him live. Next thing he knew he was in the hospital, the nurse telling him his brothers had brought him in. But that was really odd considering he didn’t have any siblings. A little after that his pack arrived and everything Patrick knew about the world was turned upside down. He didn’t dare refusing joining the Bisclavret pack fearing what they’d do to them if he didn’t. Ever since then he’s been begrudgingly joining them in their sneaky little joining ceremonies, though he’s rarely and active participant leaving some to begin questioning his real loyalty to the pack.
| Family |
John and Stacey Kershner: His parents live in a small town off in the country and Patrick rarely ever speaks to them regardless how much they bug him. He’s never really felt all that connected to his parents and was plenty happy moving to London requiring him to talk to them even less. That being said he does love them and will check in from time to time.
| Strengths |
Intelligent. Patrick is a smart cookie if nothing else making him very good at his job. And he’s pretty good at catching on to things quickly.
Isn’t very emotional and can deal with just about anything thrown his way. Made him a little numb his life has.
Extremely loyal to those close to him.
| Weaknesses |
A major push over and all around scaredy cat in most regards of his life.
Socially awkward to the extreme.
Never engaged in any serious relationship with another person that didn’t end in a giant joke.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Loser - Beck
” And my time is a piece of wax
Falling' on a termite
Who's choking' on the splinters”
| House Number |
To be discussed.
| Extra Information |
Nothing as of now. |
1,048 | 14 | 63 | 1,435 | 3,655 | Location: Churchhill Gardens, 5B (House Mayhem)
Interacting with: Liam and Awkward Turtle
Honest to a fault. The Dhampire told her far more than the Fae expected to learn today. All her information danced around the truth while he went full throttle. She was going to go in more detail later like tonight for dinner, but perhaps she should reschedule her full disclosure for earlier. Hm, interesting. Interesting, indeed.
Mr. Liam Woodsworth, Elliot for emergencies
A lot of vampy qualities + short life = Dhampire, right? Or a really weak ass vampire. Never met either regardless. It'll be kinda neat learning about him and his roots.
Ask about his knowledge on Fae when there's time. Should I be cautious? Pending evaluation.
He's 'enjoying' life with drugs but is not an 'addict'. Observe habits. Come to own conclusions. Probable intervention.
Makes music - hopefully good music. If he gets too loud, deal with it accordingly.
Understanding. I like that.
Broke - Meh, NBD
"...As long as you buy the replacements" = Obviously, doesn't know who I am.
"Friend with connections" = possible cop? Be wary.
BEST INTERNET. WIN.
Glancing at the terrarium where the lizard resided in and then returning her piercing gaze towards Liam, her lips pulled up ever so slightly-- wicked yet welcoming. For the most part, her face was imperturbable and eyes, now showing her shades of blue, was as sharp as a stalactite. Eternity evaluated him like a hawk leering at a small creature. Even though her roommate was taller than her, somehow she carried herself like she was shatterproof resistant. Or at least, that's how the woman wanted to be perceived. Perhaps, at times she was unapproachable and that's why she didn't have many... or any... friends. Life was a cruel mistress and the skeptical Fae made sure people saw the crystal spikes on her ice, cold wall. But for those, who truly took the time to look at her, Ettie was simply a vibrant woman with frozen chains around her heart.
Too bad she's pushed all those, who attempted to get close with her, away. This would be the first time she'd be living with someone other than herself, so that could definitely effect her 'terrible-making-friends' record. At the minimum, Liam and her would have to learn to tolerate each other.
The woman contemplated how much she should share with her roomie later on today. If he truly did have a short lifespan, what did she have to lose?
Before he went in to hug her, she chuckled, "I fully support divorce. Alimony should be for everyone." As they hugged, the fae coolly joked, "But don't you worry, Squeaks will love me by then." Pulling away from the hug, she watched him go to the astray. As he did so, Ettie partially inhaled the smoke and moved her tongue toward the back of her throat making a "O" shape. When he looked at her again, she pushed out a ring of smoke toward his young looking face, slowly and humorously.
"Don't hurt yourself too much, Roomie."
When he headed toward the door, she went to the astray and stubbed her cigarette out, leaving the poison stick behind. Making her way to the door, there was yet another new face.
“What the hell, isssalll ack… um this?”
Leaning against the edge of the door's archway, she assessed the man but in a quicker fashion (since she didn't want moving in to take all day). Based on how Liam lived, Ettie wanted to assume he didn't have many friends. This bearded man before her being the exception. Was he the 'friend with connections' guy? Of course, she shouldn't assume but for now that would be her theory until proven wrong.
These men were like two peas in a pod, at least when it came to their fashion sense. The darker haired man in particular definitely gave off that intelligent vibe. Though she wouldn't doubt Liam was smart as well, just a smart man who was on death row. There might be a chance her roommate was a smartass too, but only time would tell.
"Hey Handsome! I like your hair. Reminds me of mine when I don't product the shit out of it. Either way, call me Ettie for now. We'll do longer intros and sing kumbaya after I'm settled in. Since you're here, you might as well help! We have a beautiful storm to beat~" Not really caring about the fact that he was a complete stranger, she pulled him from leaning against the wall and brought him into a gentle embrace, "It's nice to meet you!"
She was too distracted to notice him dying of embarrassment. With that, she chirped to her workers (ALL her workers), "Lets get to work Boys!" Before she strutted off to get her things out of the car, she turned to her roommate and his friend, "I'll buy dinner!" That was not an offer, but a rewarding demand. | - snipped and put in storage until future reference - |
1,049 | 14 | 64 | 969 | 1,093 | Location: Couch Pot-tah-toe
Interacting With: Astrid and a potato
Unsurprising that it all came down to this.
Every minuscule atom in the universe, every ray of gamma radiation, every birth of a star - all of it came down to this particular moment.
Whether or not the news tabloids were lying about Netflix getting the six season of Archer the same time it got the fifth season of Bob's Burgers. Aaaaand -
Boom.
"God dammit," Michael cursed at the double buzz of his phone - it pinged with subsequent announcements for both seasons right this instant. "What am I gonna do now?" The dread of it all. Having to choose between one or the other. That felt liked asking him to choose between children, of which he'd likely choose the one he liked the most. That usually didn't translate well into shows because one, he didn't have children and two, this wasn't a life or death situation.
This, however, was deemed a vastly important situation. This was hours of his immortal life that he needed to fill. Michael stood, hands behind his back and his eyes staring into the deep snow drifts wafting outside of the bay windows. The war between nature, humanity, and the fae (the ones with sticks up their asses) raged just as much as the conflict settling in the meat of his stomach. A deep frowned pursed his lips and a Michael turned back to face the TV, finding it harder to pretend he didn't hear Astrid's voice tap away in her room.
Only one way to solve this. Hot potato. Michael slid into the kitchen on the balls of his feet, nearly crashing into the array of drawers he'd left out during his little breakfast tirade. He took a moment to rummage through the pantry for their Sack O' Potats, finding the roundest one and wrapping it in tin-foil before tossing it into the oven. After a good long few minutes of frowning into the oven, Michael deemed it hot enough to toss. With grit teeth, he unwrapped the partially backed potato, breathed in deep, and quietly sang the first verse of 'Anyway You Want It' after the twentieth bar, he stopped and squeezed the steaming potato in one hand and bit down on the side of his hand to keep the shout he gave muffled and soft.
"Alright, I... shit," he mumbled, "which hand was this. Uh. Uh. One. Two. Three. Bob's Burger--Astrid!" Michael looked up to see the girl emerge from her room. He sank his teeth into the potato, deemed it needed more salt and some butter, did just that and look at her. "I don't really need anything, but want me to come with? I could use a day out! And it's a blizzard out there, dun want you catching your death - literally. Dopplegangers are nasty subjects to mess around with." Michael leaned against the counter, hissing at the still raw feeling of his palm before giving Astrid a beaming grin. | “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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| Family |
Dana King -
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 ”
| 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.) |
1,050 | 14 | 65 | 2,699 | 1,255 | Ryan Croft
Location: 14 Pratchett Road, Faircourt
Interacting With: Nicodem Kaminski, Mention of: Low Key , Nick Black
Ryan glanced at his clock: 2:30. He sighed in exasperation and closed the ‘low key’ file. He’d have to send it Nico’s way in the morning. Ryan lazily let a hand drag across his face pushing his glasses down off of his face and onto the desk below him. He leaned backwards and pushed his hair from his eyes sighing deeply. He looked at the ceiling and sighed deeply, scratching his beard and looking over to his bed with a hint of lovelornness. “Next time old girl.” He said picking his glasses back up off the desk and reopened the case file, going over some of the key details once more.
He opened his eyes and found himself starting down at a page. He pried his face from the parchment and groaned. He glanced at his clock. “That’s too late.” He said quietly rubbing his face attempting to get the sleep out of his eyes.
“Breakfast, your commissionership?” Nico’s voice echoed into Ryan’s room. He could smell the tea from inside his room.
“Course, Nico I’ll be right out.” He said rather loudly in order to be heard. Ryan groggily got up from his desk and shuffled all of his notes into the dossier in which they should be kept, tying the small twine chord that kept the dossier closed around its loop and tossed them into the duffel bag he kept in the corner of his room. He slowly exited his room, wearing his signature blue shirt and sweatpants combo.
“Nico you’re putting me to shame.” Ryan said gratefully when he witnessed the feast his only friend had prepared for him. He sat down at the table and picked up a newspaper that waited for him, he had set it out the night before. Glancing down at the words he quickly skimmed through the crime section. “Low Key is spreading his influence, I’m no closer to figuring out who he is than I was a week ago. I want Nick on this one, maybe give him a partner – that sound alright with you?” He said absent mindedly sipping from the mug that Nico had given him.
He and Nico often times skipped pleasentries, especially with what was going on now, Ryan knew that Nico wouldn’t want to waste time with hellos and how did you sleeps. Instead, Ryan respected Nico enough to skip the bullshit and get to finding out what was going on.
“Nick’ll need someone who can go undercover with him, someone who can investigate this shit without being tied to the cops, I’ll leave it to you – you know everyone pretty well.” Ryan knew everyone on the force just as well as Nico, but it was a sign of respect – hand pick the person who would be analyzing the case with the most priority. “You have anything for me before we go in today?” Ryan asked.
Eve Lumière
Location: Faraday Heights 24A
Interacting With: Blake
Eve laughed when Blake plunged headfirst into a pillow. “Oh I’m sorry darling, I’ll get decent now I suppose.” Eve said teasingly poking Blake’s side lightly before retreating back to her room. When Eve chose an outfit it was like an emperor preparing combatants for gladiatorial combat. She would grab two shirts and compare them, the winner stayed. She usually managed to do this with her entire outfit before she was able to pick something to wear. Whenever anyone would question this practice she’d pout.
“Have you seen Blake? The whole world is watching her, I’ve got to find some sort of way to stand out sweetie.”
That was a more or less common response from the Lust demon. She finally found her winner of the day, it was a plaid button up shirt and a pair of tight jeans. She exited the room and began buttoning up her shirt up as she greeted Blake. “So, the bar won’t be open for a while – what’s the game plan Blakey?” She said plopping down beside her blonde roommate and resting her head on Blake’s shoulder. She liked Blake, somehow the YouTube journalist managed to ground Eve. She appreciated her company, while she flirted with most people, she wouldn't even consider with spending time with most people, opening up god forbid living with them. But Blake, well she was Blake. She was sweet and kind and... She could live with Eve.
“I’m boreeeed.” She cooed at Blake. She kind of found she was happiest when she was just hanging out with Blake shooting the shit. | Eve Lumière.
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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
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 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."
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’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."
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."
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. "
#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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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. "
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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."
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."
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."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"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."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"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."
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."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"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."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"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."
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."
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."
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. |
1,051 | 14 | 66 | 2,173 | 2,274 | Loki
Location: 36 Avalon Point → Early Bean
Interacting With: Mr. Richardson, present in the same place as Miles Barachiel Talia , mention of Andrew
Water cascaded from the shiny chrome rain shower head. Wealth was nice, and being able to afford the best things in life was even nicer. In Avalon Point, the water was always hot when you wanted it to be, and the pressure was exactly right. Despite the luxurious comfort of the walk in shower, Loki lathered and rinsed rather quickly.
Stepping out of the shower, Loki toweled off and styled his hair with a bit of mousse before heading to the master bedroom. Wearing nothing but a plush white towel around his waist, as Charles had seen him wearing far less before, Loki walked up the stairs. Sure, he could have showered in the ensuite bathroom connected to his bedroom, but what was the point of having 5 bathrooms if you weren’t going to use them all?
The walk-in closet was as spacious as one might expect, especially for such a metrosexual egomaniac. The left wall had a row of suit jackets and below that a matching row of trousers, both arranged in color order from darkest to lightest. The back wall had multiple shelves of mostly dress shoes, loafers, and a just a few pairs of trainers. The drawers below it contained socks, pants, and belts. The right wall had a row of finely pressed undershirts, vests, and ties, the row below that had a small collection of ‘casual’ clothing: khakis, button-ups, cashmere and argyle jumpers, leather jackets, and a few pairs of dark-wash jeans.
Today, Loki chose a classic suit color combination - black on black on black, with the exception of a silver bow tie. He liked bowties, they added to the charming scientist vibe, like that Bill Nye fellow. Though, Loki was far more attractive. Now well dressed and ready for the day, Loki went to his office.
Tracing his finger along the oversized calendar, Loki determined today’s date. ”The ninth… that would be…” Loki looked up the ceiling in thought, spinning his his desk chair. He used different burner phones on different days of the week, rotating the number associated with the numerical date of the month in a randomized combination from month to month. ”Mobile number 12.” He decided and then opened the third drawer down on his desk. This drawer was full of an obscene amount of cell phones, all serviced by pre-paid cards that were bought in various locations at different times, using dosh only. Loki always used dosh for illicit dealings, anything else is far too easily traced.
Powering up the mobile, Loki dialed in Mr. Richardson’s number. Loki had no idea if that was actually the man’s name, just as the man did not know Loki’s true name. What they did know, is they had an important business to protect, and anonymity and caution was everything. Mr. Richardson would only answer the phone call if it was received at the predetermined time and from the correct phone number from the burner phone assigned to that day of the month.
”Philip!” Richardson answered in an excited voice. It was not Loki’s name, nor an alias, but a random unrelated code name. This entire conversation would be spoken in code, because…. Well, just in case someone might be listening in. Although, that was pretty much impossible. Paranoia knows no bounds!
”How’s the wife, mate? And the kids, getting good marks in school?” The wife was the business as a whole, the kids were the cooks and dealers. This call was mostly to keep Loki updated on the goings on that he didn’t see, but Richardson did. The meeting ended on a positive note, all was well with the wife and kids! Richardson suggested a place where they should ”meet up for lunch and really catch up!” This was how Loki would know where to casually leave Richardson’s handsome payment for the week in the form of cold, hard dosh in an envelope, the amount of which was almost as obscene as the number of mobiles in that drawer.
The location was on the way to Loki’s favorite cafe, the Early Bean. After discreetly placing the envelope in the decided location, Loki went to fetch a hot cuppa. The little bell jingled against the glass door as he entered. His eyes wandered to the employees and he frowned slightly, seeing that his favorite wasn’t there.
”The usual, Mr. Van Stenberg? The mousey cashier girl asked. Loki gave her a crooked grin that instantly made her blush.
”I suppose I am quite predictable… yes, thank you.” Loki said before producing his card to pay. ”No Andrew today? he asked in a tone that somehow managed to sound both curious and disinterested in her answer.
”Not yet, no, sorry.” she nervously mumbled her apology as she handed back his card and then busied herself with making his drink. While Loki waited for his beverage, he scanned the room. Some familiar faces were present - that pretty bird who sold him his current home, and that fae hairdresser. He thought it smelled a little extra sweet in the cafe today. Mmm…… | Loki
Vampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Loki Van Stenberg
The former name he was born with, kind of, the latter was chosen most recently because he liked the dramatic flair. He moves around a lot, mostly keeping to Europe, and changes his name with every move.
Aliases/Nicknames include: Low Key, Kingpin, and the Trickster
| Date of Birth |
Born to a Vikingar couple in the Summer of 830, give or take a few decades. His most current falsified documentation lists July 13th, 1992, though.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Primarily heterosexual, though living as long as he has, he’s dabbled elsewhere to spice things up.
| Occupation |
Legal Profession? He is a Senior Chemist at the research lab in Redbridge, earned a bonafide PhD and everything! He has a passion for the sciences. Having a well-paying job like this makes for a good cover on how he really got the fancy cars and mansion up on Avalon Point.
Real Profession? Loki runs the London underground. Narcotics, hallucinogens, uppers, downers, you name it! If it exists, Low Key has a man running the stuff on the streets. And the Kingpin doesn’t just cater to the humans, hell no, he’s got the stuff to get the Sups just as fucked up. He has just plain ol’ blood too, for those too morally weak to do their own hunting, but willing enough to look the other way on how said blood was obtained in the first place. Loki’s real pride and joy, though, is O-neg. Being a vampire scientist with unlimited access to state-of-the-art laboratory equipment, Loki figured out a way to genetically and chemically alter human blood so that it gives vampires the effect of being high - a previously unattainable state for vampires, aside from the very mild effects one could gain from tainted blood. Pressed into tiny red tablets emblazoned with an ‘O’, O-neg does different things for different vamps; For some it feels like ecstasy, some just pot, and some experience hallucinations like with acid. O-neg could take you all the way up to the clouds, and then promptly let you crash through the floorboards. It’s the real deal, and when you’re working with vampire lifespans and immunities, what the hell else do you have to do with your time? Come on, you know you want to try it...
| In-Depth Appearance |
Devilishly handsome, is that enough? No? Okay then. With soulful blue eyes and a tidy crop of chestnut curls, one might almost be convinced that Loki is innocent. But that ever present five o’clock shadow and crooked smirk betray that he is up to absolutely no good, just like the god he was named for. He stands at 5’11” with a toned and muscular build, but not overly so.
Appearances are of utmost importance to the viking - old habits die hard, I guess - and as such, he is hardly ever seen without at least a two piece suit, or a lab coat, if he’s working. Scars? Aye, he got a few of them raiding and trading his way across the Scandinavian homelands back in his human years, but most are easily hidden by his apparel.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Flirtatious ♦ Manipulative ♦ Logical ♦ Hot-headed ♦
Loki is double-edged sword, simply put. Listening to him talk is easy, a trait that made him a good college professor in his past lives. He is very intelligent and tells some of the best stories you’ve ever heard - who knows how true some of them are, though. And, hell, he could charm the pants off of just about anyone; Can, and has, most likely. Even with boatloads of charisma, he can be quite the egotistical dick sometimes. It is glaringly obvious that his own favorite person is, indeed, himself. And though vikings are known for having treated most people relatively equally long before it was the popular opinion, Loki can come off as a bit of a chauvinist. But hey, nobody’s perfect, and that’s something the Trickster never strived to be. If you can sand down those abrasive, crusty edges, you’ll find a real softy inside Loki. He just wants what everyone else wants: to have people truly care about him.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔A thick, hoppy brew
✔Having drinks with his best mates
✔Getting high, but only occasionally
✔Living in luxury
✔Blondes
✔Gingers too
✔Learning other languages
✔Calling women luv and doll, regardless of how well he knows them
✔Himself
✘Mead, Drink of the Gods or not, the shit tastes like candied piss
✘The French… no real reason why there
✘Unkempt people
✘Religion, as a vampire and as a scientist
✘The telly
✘People who can’t keep secrets
✘Humans, most of the time
✘That hideous mockery Marvel has made of his namesake
| History |
This section could go on for pages, but brevity is in fact the soul of wit. Flóki Björnsson was born to a jarl and his wife in 9th century in the lands now known as Sweden. Growing up in the Vikingar lifestyle was as much as one might expect: tough, violent, bloody, but also noble, adventurous, and enriching. Vikingar ideals make up a lot of who Loki is today, and don’t believe all the clichés and stereotypes you hear about the Vikings, they aren’t the savages history books paint them to be. Flóki’s human life ended in a brutal battle across the sea in what is now Poland. It was a warriors death that would make his father proud, and earn his place in the halls of Valhalla, or Fólkvangr, he wasn’t picky. At least, that wouldn’t have been the case, if he hadn’t woken up after, bloodied in a field among his fallen brothers and sisters with a burning thirst in his throat unlike any he’d ever known. Naturally, he went on to murder the nearest living, breathing thing… or ten. And the rest, they say, is history!
In modern times, Loki makes his mark by finding new ways to turn heads in different locations around the world. Every few years, mostly when people might start to question why he isn’t aging, Loki moves and takes on a new name and identity. He takes his business and the money it makes with him, of course, and though his legal surname changes, his aliases remain, as does his first name. Low Key is not fond of the mass outing of the supernaturals, preferring to keep his nature like his business, underground. Nothing good can come of the humans knowing about the Others, not that he feared them. No, they were a fickle race that was likely to bring about their own demise just to get there point across… and that would make finding a good meal a hell of a lot harder.
| Family |
Jarl Björn, father, died in battle.
Jarl Ragna, mother, died shortly after, giving birth to Loki’s sister.
Frida Björnsson, sister, unknown…
| Strengths |
The quintessential businessman
Quick thinker, and often correct in that thinking
With age comes wisdom
| Weaknesses |
Flounders when not in absolute control of a situation.
Acute paranoia, well, maybe not so acute.
Prone to violent outbursts when pushed too far.
The Other
| Theme Songs |
The Dope Show – Marilyn Manson
”The drugs they say make us feel so hollow
We love in vain, narcissistic and so shallow
…
There's a lot of pretty, pretty ones
That want to get you high
But all the pretty, pretty ones
Will leave you low and blow your mind”
| House Number |
36 Avalon Point
| Extra Information |
Want to know more? I guess you have to come figure that out.
Loki Van Stenberg
Blake Preston
"Ahh, the Youtuber. I suppose it’s a good a way as any for a pretty girl to make a penny."
I like blondes, but tend to keep away from the human ones… especially when they can’t keep their noses out of business that clearly isn’t any of theirs. Her interest are apt to get killed one day, not that I care.
Daniel Belson
"Now this one is a real master of his craft. I’ve spent many a night with my mates whilst he tended bar."
Seems like a decent bloke. I don’t know him well, but I’ve always enjoyed the company of demons. Plus, I think he’s one of the few men in this city that could match me in a drinking contest.
Alistair Queen
"What good is a King without a Queen?"
Handsome, well-dressed, ambitious… hell, it’s basically like looking in a mirror. What can I say? He’s my best mate, and has been for a few lifetimes. He runs things above ground while I, well, he’s the only one outside of my force that knows what I really do.
Mariska Costas
"Does someone smell… fish?"
Jokes aside, I don’t have much to say about this one. She has a nice enough voice, good background music when drinkin’ at the pub.
Nikita Yankovsky
"Wonder why she traded in the fuzzy cuffs for real ones..."
Yeah, I don’t like cops. Three guesses as to why. She seems like one of the better ones though, probably smokes pot on her days off. While she isn’t really my type, I’d be up for a little roleplay session. “I’ve been a real bad boy, Officer!”
Mordred Hame
"Great talent, but what is with that hair?"
Another demon, yeah, this city is crawling with them - most are, what better places to rustle up some chaos? Viking Metal is my genre of choice, naturally, and Cloak of Shame is among the best metal bands London has to offer.
John Taylor
"Again with the hair, I don’t get it."
He did my latest tattoo, the eagle on my shoulder here. Great work, in all honesty. I’ll definitely be going back to him for my next piece.
Eve Lumière
"Uggh, the French. Don’t get me started."
That accent almost makes the drinks taste bad. Drop dead gorgeous though, so it’s always worth the visit. I wonder what she’s like in bed, hopefully quiet.
Catharine Reid
"Girl knows how to run a business, I can appreciate that."
The vampires in this city pretty much all know of each other. I like her spicy personality, should get to know her even better. I’m sure we’d be chums in no time.
Opallum
"Untapped potential, what a shame."
I’ve had my eye on this one. Many of my men went from rags to riches under my employ. Hopefully he’ll accept my offer, I always have use for a man who knows his way around the streets. Plus, I know he has junkie friends.
Andrew Mordekai
"He makes a real strong, HOT cuppa!"
Blood, Booze, and Tea. Those are the beverages of choice listed in order of importance. Mr. Mordekai makes takes care of the third every morning before I head to the lab. The real lab, in Redbridge. Just to clarify...
Suriel White
"What the fuck is that?"
Listen, I’m all for doing whoever you please. But the kids these days with their LGBTXYZ alphabet-soup personalities! Honestly, is that a man? A woman? Don’t confuse me like that, mate! I don’t want to have to guess about what’s in your trousers...
Miles Catrose
"He’s a local hairstylist. He gave me a cut once, I won’t be hurrying back any time soon."
Not because he wasn’t good, no. Faeries just smell like pudding. Delicious… irresistible pudding. I’m glad I didn’t fang out and devour him then, that would have totally blown my cover. I’m not looking to pack up and change my name again, London suits me. I keep my distance from this kid for both our sakes, even though one of my men is his dealer.
Yukiko Abe
"I saw her at the shop where I got my ink. She’s one of the other artists… I think she owns the place too."
That isn’t all I know about her. Alistair told me about her. She is playing Mum to London’s Youngest Vampiress. Too cute.
Mona
"Looks… familiar."
Though, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this one.
Faron Romane
"That shop he works at screams witchcraft, I’m surprised the bigots haven’t torched it."
Pothead kids are a dime a dozen around here, but I can’t complain. Business such as his pays from my morning cuppa from Andrew, every little bit counts!
Nicolas Black
"Good Afternoon, Detective Black." *cue devilish smirk*
A cop and a werewolf. I’ll keep my distance, wouldn’t want him shedding on my new Kiton… or sniffing about my rear.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"She works at the plant nursery where I bought those succulents over there." *gestures to cacti*
I don’t know much else about her. Smells human, but possibly a witch. You get a keen eye for picking things like that out when you’re this old.
Megumi
"That’s Ali’s ward… Kids aren’t really my thing."
That’s a lie. I think she’s adorable… but definately creepy. It’s hard to believe that she’s as old as she is, with the bouncing around and primary school bit. She definitely livens up Alistair’s cliché abode, though… well, I’m not sure livens up is the right phrase, given that neither of them are really alive.
Stefani Roche
"Looks familiar… ahh, yes! She was the receptionist at the tattoo parlor."
There she is, London’s Youngest Vampiress. Pretty as a peach, she is. Alistair gave her a few pointers on “Vamp life”. I wouldn’t mind giving her a pointer or two myself. In due time...
Ari Amari
"Ari’s another close mate of mine."
I met the Sphinx when he moved in a few blocks down. He’s one of my best paying customers, though he doesn’t know that he is essentially buying the stuff from me. What can I say? Anonymity is everything to me and, though he’s always fun to party with, I don’t know that I can trust him just yet - especially if the blimey bastard think the Egyptian gods are better than the Norse, that’s some fine coke yer snortin’, mate!
Katharine Haynes
"Hmmm..."
Is that the girl who works with Andrew? Or is she from the other shop… I can’t remember.
Felix Underwood
"I’ve seen her at the library on occasion."
Judging from the pentagram jewelry and thick cloud of incense about her, I’m pegging this one as a witch too. That, or she’s a human wannabe witch. I don’t know what would be worse...
Elise Callaghan
*Hums one of her compositions*
What can I say? Classical music is the only vampire cliché I indulge. Okay… maybe it’s not the only one. That’s, that’s beside the point! She’s lovely. A bit curious that she doesn’t speak, what’s that about? Maybe it’s just part of her stage persona...
Claire O'Malley
"This one is Irish, I’m guessing."
I don’t know her well, I’ve just seen her and all her freckles at the grocery store once or twice.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Ugh, what an awful suit… he must have gotten it from a charity bin."
I don’t know him other otherwise. Gods, man, were you even trying to look good?
Ethan Cooper
"..."
This stranger is surprisingly attractive.
Alfie Liau
"Oh, Alfie! I like Alfie."
Some vampires are just a hoot to be around, and he’s one of them. I’ve never seen him mope about what he is, unlike most ‘monsters’, and I adore his “grab life by the balls” attitude. I’m glad we’re neighbors, and friends.
Astrid Kitchener
"She works at that bistro nearby."
I’d rather make a meal of her than be served one by her. Very pretty girl, woefully human.
Michael Elior Harel
"Stopped in his Record shop once before… piss poor selection."
That’s not true. I’m just not a fan of “God’s warriors”. I miss the days of old, when the gods displayed their power and might by walking among men. Angels are nothing but egotistical pricks.
Aila Atleo
"I don’t know her, sorry."
What? I’m not lying, I really don’t know her. Should I?
Emerson Maddox
"Can’t trust a lawyer...."
He’s too young and far too cocky to be a good lawyer. And no, I’m not anti-lawyer by any means. In my line of work, you need to have a few friends that know their way through and around the law. How do you think I get my fake papers every few years? Maybe if I get arrested locally and need help in a pinch - which could happen, admittedly - I’ll use my phone call to ring him. How could you not remember that number, what with the annoying jingle the telly plays on his commercial… all the more reason to not watch the telly.
Talia Halbrook
"That’s the doll that sold me this lovely home."
She’s easy on the eyes, too bad she’s not a lust demon.
Liam Woodsworth
"What a life? Yes, that was sarcasm."
I can't pretend to know what it's like do be a Dhampire. It seems gods awful, I can't believe Ali managed to bring kids like him into the world. Weak, sickly creatures... I hope I haven't made any! Shit... I should be more careful. Anyway, there are those who know how to party, and those who take it too far. I'm sure you can guess where this bloke falls on that spectrum.
Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson.
"He's new in town, works at the same library as that bird we talked about earlier."
Freddie may be the only witch in town that I don't mind. I've only chatted him up a time or two, but he doesn't seem as flippant as some of the other witches, and I can tell he's a good study. Despite all it's fantastical mysticism, magic is a science that deserves just as much study, dedication, and practice as any other. It's never a bad idea to have at least one witch in per city on my side, he just might shape up to be my London Witch.
Ryan Croft
"Those glasses are... what's the word for that style? Hipster? Yeah, I think that's it."
Head of the five-0 and an angel? He just might be the worst bloke in this city. I'll pass on any false pleasantries here. It's best that he doesn't ever see my face... something tells me he'd just know if he did. Too risky.
Aiden Lewis Phillips
"He's hit on me at the pub before, along with practically everyone else there."
Aiden's a nice enough bloke. Pretty young for a vampire, but has a brilliant mind. It's nice to be able to hold an intelligent, scientific conversaion with him. We aren't best mates by any means, but we've only just met.
Eternity Loveless
"Hmmm. Can I keep this picture?" *smirks*
Never met her, but I'm really hoping that changes. Love the hair.
Patrick Kershner
"You know how you can sometimes tell what a person is like just by looking at them? Well... he looks boring."
He's also another werewolf on the police force. Why the hell do I like living here again? I guess this is one way to make eternity pass by in an interesting manner...
Nicodem Kaminski
"Oh, Nic... I don't think he likes me much."
Yeah, we met quite a few years back. We played a game of poker and I made out with a good sum of his money. He didn't take too kindly to that. Now he's a police commissioner where I currently live. Whoops?
Anastasia 'Alison' Psomas
"Is that the best photo you could get of her? She looks... tired."
But that's just my shallow first impression, I don't know this girl. Maybe she's a dhampire? She kinda has that 'run ragged' look going on. Or maybe she's a junkie...
James Bright
"Looks like he's just a high school kid."
I've never seen him around before. |
1,052 | 14 | 67 | 2,015 | 780 | Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson
Location: Travelling to Revelation library.
Interacting With: Mentions of Eve .
Stumbling out of Farady Heights 24, Freddie felt the cold air sting his red hot face. Damn it, damn it, damn! he thought, unlocking and jumping onto his bike. Of course you managed to make a fool of yourself in front of the beautiful girl next door, of course you did! It'd be terrible if anyone didn't think you were an idiot! The blush that had started creeping up his neck from the moment he saw Eve in the hallway simmered in the frosty air of the Unseelie winter. By the time he reached the library, it had mostly cooled off, even though the events that caused it were still replaying themselves through Freddie's mind.
Swinging round the corner, Freddie's work place came into view; the recently renamed Revelation Library. Not a lot of establishments had any interest in showing support or condemnation for the newly outed others (though Freddie had noticed a lot more signs outside cafés and bards saying things like "show us your fangs, drinks half price" or "faeries who fly drink free!") but those in charge at the library felt the only humane way to react to the Incident was to make an open declaration of support for others. Literally, a banner over the door proclaimed "All are welcomed" with cutesy images of vampires and werewolves drawn on either side of the words. As much as Freddie appreciated the sentiment, he was certainly not ready to start animating objects right out in the open. Wait and see, wait and see.
Locking his bike, Freddie took a moment to breathe in the crisp air. Well, he thought, the morning hasn't gone so well so far. Anti-other attacks, Unseelie still freezing everything and making a complete clown of yourself. Here's hoping it can only get better.
Shyeah, right.
Nicodem Kaminski
Location: 14 Pratchett Road.
Interacting With: Ryan , Mentions of Aila, Nikita , Nicholas , Patrick and 'Low Key' .
Realising that, of course, Ryan hadn't been to bed yet, Nicodem sighed and walked back down the stairs, leaving the food on the table. Of course Ryan worked hard, that much was indisputable, and of course he wanted to do the best job possible, you only had to look at him. But Nicodem sometimes wondered whether Ryan might benefit from some of his own signature self discipline. Sleep at a certain time, rise at a certain time and work at a certain time. That way he wouldn't work until the wee hours of the morning, fall asleep on his desk and spend the rest of the day tired, only to repeat the process the following night. Still, the commissioner gets to do pretty much what he wants when it comes down to it and Nicodem wasn't going to be the one to tell him otherwise.
As his superior and housemate slowly made his way down the stairs, Nicodem tucked into his own breakfast and carefully sipped some of his tea. Piping hot, strong as an ox and black as midnight on a moonless night, just as he liked it. At Ryan's question, he nodded and gave a small smile. "Nicholas will do a fine job, as always. As for partner, why not Nikita if there's going to be undercover work? She's good at fitting in where ever she's sent and is no slouch in a scrap. Nicholas will nose around, make some noise and rustle the bushes, she can watch to see what tries to fly away." Nicodem's hunting metaphor was dated in the extreme (he hadn't hunted birds like that since before firearms were invented) but the point was clear enough.
His own breakfast now finished, Nicodem was just clearing away his plate as Ryan asked if there was anything else. He turned back and fixed Ryan with serious look. "I'm afraid I have something, yes. The werewolf that lost control and killed the young girl, Nick Bloodfang, was killed in captivity. A group named Helsing have claimed responsibility and apparently intend to commit more murders of others. There's a manifesto on the Youtube but the gist of it seems to be 'Mortals first, Others second'." Youtube, Twitter and Facebook are all too modern and unnecessary for Nicodem to have bothered to learn their uses, functions or correct names. "We need to know what the local wolves think of this development and when there are going to be repercussions, luckily enough we have three of them on the force. I'll talk to Nicholas, see what he thinks and ask him if he can have a few words with the others around. And Patrick, though I'm not sure his pack talks to him much. You should talk to Aila though, she's gunning for a promotion and I think you might be her hero so she'll answer you. We should talk about her promotion soon, by the by."
Drumming his fingers on the counter, Nicodem seemed to consider for a few seconds. "Oh, yes. You and I need to sit down and talk about the 'Low Key' case. As much as you like spending all night staring at the case file, I imagine we might make a little more progress with two heads rather than one and not at one in the morning.". There was a hint of reproach in his voice but more teasing than reprimanding. | Basic Information
| Name |
"Ramiel but you must call me Uncle Rammie, mon chéri."
Ramiel or Uncle Rammie, as he insists people call him.
| Date of Birth |
"Ah, too old for you my darling."
Who knows? Around the Boulangerie there are pictures of him from long, long ago that he doesn't talk about.
| Gender |
"Does it matter? I am who I am."
His true form is essentially a genderless spirit though his mortal body would traditionally be considered male.
| Sexuality |
"Why, are you looking for tips? Then you came to the right place!"
Asexual panromantic, not that you'd know it from his bawdy jokes, knowledgeable tips and general air of sexual confidence.
| Occupation |
"Working hard or hardly working, non?"
Owns and manages a boulangerie in Edgetoun called Heavenly Treats.
| In-Depth Appearance |
"Uncle Rammie keeps himself healthy, even amidst all this sugar, I'm sure you've noticed."
Clean cut features that settle easily into a grin or laugh suit Ramiel well, he's very pleased with his earthly form. So pleased that he makes sure to keep it fit and healthy though not always clean shaven. He's experimented with a pencil moustache and a roughish five o'clock shadow but always gravitates back to a smooth jaw line within a week or two. There's something about the honest appearance of being well shaved that appeals to Ramiel, he thinks it makes him look more approachable. For the same reason, he likes to wear glasses when reading, despite having extremely good eyesight, because it humanises him. He prefers to dress in clothes that are comfortable, well fitting and slightly revealing. Shirts with the top three buttons undone and well cut v-neck jumpers are two of his favourites. For colour, Ramiel likes starched light whites offset by blacks or pastel paint colours like chalky reds and cloudy blues. Cheerful colours that make you think of boating on the Thames in the sunshine on a summer afternoon.
Perhaps Ramiel's best tool for putting people at their ease is his voice. It's like syrup to the ear, sweet and soothing. His accent is almost aggressively French, h's disappearing and r's going on forever. Though he's technically not French, he's spent enough time in France and speaks the language fluently enough to not really see it as lying to pose as a Frenchman. To be fair, he doesn't actually tell people he's French, they just hear his accent, notice the French words he uses in regular conversation and see that he runs a boulangerie and make their own assumptions.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Caring ♦ Friendly ♦ Bawdy ♦ Nosey ♦
"I'm just a man, just a baker. Here, have a croissant."
If you come into Heavenly treats, the first thing that hits you is the delicious smell of baked goods. The second things is the riot of pastel colours, from the marigold floor to the rainbow hued pastries shelf. The third thing will be the boisterous, heavily accented voice calling "Bonjour! Welcome to Heavenly Treats! Are you here for sweet food or some naughty gossip because, darling, I have plenty of both!" And you have entered the world of Ramiel. He'll leave one of the young employees to work the till, sit you down, pour you some of his delicious coffee, put an eclair in front of you and draw out your deepest, darkest secrets with a knowing smile and a cheeky wink. And you'll tell him, because the longer you sit there and talk, the more you feel a warmth in your chest and a smile on your lips. So you'll throw your secrets into the deep well of Uncle Rammie's twinkling eyes and leave the boulangerie feeling like you're walking on clouds. He'll welcome the next person into the shop, do the same thing again and never tell the secrets entrusted to his care. Instead, he deals in gossip that doesn't matter to anyone (what Sharon is naming her new child, what Damien's new tattoo will say, whether Lucy will enter the talent show), trading silly jokes with leather wearing bikers and woollen clad grannies alike.
That's Ramiel, Archangel of hope. To him, there's nothing more important than listening to you talk yourself into a better mood and nothing more enjoyable than trading in trivial gossip. Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves, he says as he puts another delectable baking masterpiece in front of you. One might think he's given up on the great fight between good and evil but in fact he's decided to... creatively reinterpret his own role in the battle. He's seen the hope of millions crash and burn, the dreams of the people crush them and the heroes of the past become the twisted villains of history. So now he works on changing the little things and spreading hope on a personal level. Happy people make a happy world and lovely cakes make happy people, though he'll help with more than cakes and a shoulder to cry on. Ramiel has more than a few contacts, old friends who owe him a favour or two, who are happy to offer a job to anyone recommended by Ramiel. So if you need help not thinking dark thoughts or paying your rent, come and talk to Ramiel, knowing that the only price is that you do the same for someone else when he asks you to.
He doesn't just deal in your anxiety and woe, though. Did you forget your fiancé's birthday? Don't worry, Ramiel is waiting for you in the shop with their favourite cake in their favourite colour with a personal message from you to them in icing. He knows you'll do better next time and that the two of you will be very happy together. Did your class run late, your bus get delayed, your lunch not quite happen and you're late for your night job? Don't sweat it, he's got your favourite sandwich in a bag and refuses payment until you're back on your feet. He doesn't forget your birthday or wedding anniversary, he remembers your favourite food and drink, what days you tend to run late and forget to eat. He'll do his best to smooth over the crinkles in your life and shake it off with a grin and a wink.
| Likes & Dislikes |
"I like what any cultured person likes and dislike what every sensible world citizen dislikes."
✔ Good food, fine drink and lovely company.
✔ Gossip, the more trivial the better.
✔ Making people feel happy.
✔ Romantic comedies, the cheesier the better.
✔ Karaoke, though his singing voice is awful.
✔ Making people blush with his jokes.
✔ Anyone who can have a laugh.
✔ Puns, the more awful and corny the better.
✔ Cigarettes, for full the image of the French Man.
✘ Cheap, mass produced fast food.
✘ Action films, too loud and too boring.
✘ People who can't keep a secret.
✘ Angels that judge other angels.
✘ Humans that judge other humans.
✘ People that takes themselves too seriously.
✘ Cigars, eugh!
| History |
"I've been here and there, done this and that. Now enough about me, let's talk about you. How are you feeling?"
What is the history of any Archangel? Ramiel was put on the earth, along with his six siblings, to champion the cause of his virtue in the lives of mortals. Hope was Ramiel's cause, the light in the hearts of all men and women that helps them walk when tired, fight when weary and laugh when all is lost. And, in the name of the divine, Ramiel was the light of hope for many, many years. Hero, champion, leader, healer, Ramiel trained many of them to bring hope to the people and did his duty as he saw it for a long, long time. For the most part, he played the role of mentor and teacher, occasionally stepping into the limelight to play a small but pivotal role.
But things didn't seem to change. Heroes became villains, dreams became burdens and hope never seemed to prevail. History paints a sad picture of hope being the crutch of the desperate and the fantasies of the delusional and one day it got to Ramiel. The inherent hopelessness of his task bore down upon him and he teetered on the brink of falling. Some might consider that he did. To Ramiel, however, he merely choose a new approach to the mission. Rather than work at an international level where the consequences of failure are dire for millions, he chose to work at a personal level, bringing hope to one person at a time and sending them out into the world to spread it.
About ten years ago, he opened the Heavenly Treats boulangerie in Edgetoun's centre and has done a brisk trade in pastries, cakes, bread, gossip and hope since then. It has a high staff turnover as Ramiel deliberately employs ne'er do wells who have no job or prospects, taking them under his wing, training them up and then sending them on to higher paying positions in more central bakeries and restaurants. Is his method the most efficient way of pursuing his mission? Perhaps not but those people whose lives have been touched by his words can attest to its effectiveness.
| Family |
"Ah, you are are all my family, darlings! Everyone that comes in, for cake or for chatter, you are all part of my clan!"
Ramiel has six siblings, created at the same time as him and given their own missions. Two live in Edgetoun, a Police Commissioner and a record store owner. Apart from them, Ramiel has no children or significant others. As he says, he considers almost everyone he talks to a family member and genuinely tries to help each and every one of them.
| Strengths |
"As long as I've a cigarette in one hand, a glass of wine in the other and Cherry by my side, I'm as strong as I need to be!"
Charming, empathic and good at making you feel good.
Kind, likes nothing more than lightening another's load in whatever way he can.
World class chef, baker and listener.
| Weaknesses |
"I can resist anything. Except temptation!"
Apathetic about large scale, world changing events.
Doesn't really listen to people saying "No, I'm fine" or "I want to handle things myself".
Doesn't know how to deal with negative emotions, prefers to ignore them.
Finds it hard to accept thanks or payment.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Memories – Waldeck
”All those souvenirs in my memories
got me going down in strike
all those souvenirs in my memories
got me ruining my soul.”
| House Number |
"Are you going to come and visit me? Should I lock my doors and windows or leave them wide open?"
Probably somewhere in Faircourt.
| Extra Information |
"No, no, no! I'm the only one that gets to know all the juicy secrets! You've got this the wrong way round!"
Has excellent hearing and vision, good at picking up small details and things said under one's breath.
Loves a good French wine but will settle for an inferior nation's wine in a pinch.
Blake Preston
"Her blogging and youtubeing are very nice, I sometimes watch a video now and then. She's a little angry though, maybe she's frustrated? I will have to talk to her about it and see how she feels, maybe she needs a partner."
Hmmmm... Why not her roommate Eve? Yes, yes, she's a demon, I know, but she seems like a nice girl and she is French. I will talk to Blake and then maybe put a word in Eve's ear.
Daniel Belson
"Daniel and Ehtan, poor boys. Have they resolved their ‘confusion’ about the girl yet?”
Ethan helps Daniel, I believe, and the both of them help Aila.
Alistair Queen
"Ah, Alistair. He works hard and plays hard and who is to judge? The little girl, she has been a good influence on him, I think, and I imagine that another constant in his life might not go amiss either."
But who? Well, he seems fond of Loki but I'm not sure that he is a positive influence. If I am not mistaken and I rarely am, he and Nikita have done the deed once or twice but feel no particular fondness for each other. One to think about.
Mariska Costas
"Mariska seems to follow my own heart, the heart of hopeless romantic. Perhaps she would get on well with Elsie? Hmmm... I will talk them both."
Nymphs, what beautiful creatures! I remember other times when their songs were not such rarities. But that was yesteryear, we must concern ourselves with the now.
Nikita Yankovsky
”Apathy can be a sexy quality, ask all those mopey teenage pop-stars. It is not a healthy though and leads nowhere pleasant.“
I have no doubt she could be made to feel rather more content with her existence than she currently is but she would need to want it.
Mordred Hame
”I haven’t seen him around here recently, his loss.“
If he wants Uncle Rammie’s help, he’ll need to show his face now and then.
John Taylor
”Ah, John. A tragedy in motion, like a car hurtling towards a wall. I can help many people in many ways but I do not think I can help him, not yet.”
In fact, I think there’s only one way that anyone will be able to help him.
Eve Lumière
”Another citizen of the republic on this dreary little island? Hourra! True, she is a little bit too quick to make friends but I have never been one to judge too harshly. She is always welcome to my little corner of heaven.”
And she is so prolific in her work! Spreading the joy in her way might not get the divine seal of approval but it gets mine.
Catharine Reid
”She used to come in here all the time but I have not seen her in a while. Perhaps she moved?“
A shame, such a nice girl.
Opallum
”Such fire! A very hot individual, as I am want to point out now and then.“
Some demons try to hide their nature from mortals, especially before we ’others’ were outed but not this Ifrit, he’d prefer everyone see him sit in the cold of winter with not a visible sign of discomfort. At least he seems satisfied with his position, otherwise I might have to step in.
Andrew Mordekai
”Merde, I am sweating! I think we must find him a friend before I succumb to temptation!”
True to tell, it will take something more than a beautiful man to make me ‘fall’ but he is still beautiful. Fire in the heart, fire in the soul. I am sure there are many others who would appreciate such a man.
Suriel White
”Sometimes, I think that I am wasting my time with these delicious delicacies, you know? Mostly I feel that way after talking to Suriel. They work so hard and help so many people. I hope they know the work they do is so ”
“Some angels preach or overreach, but some are kind and humble
Forgive and forget they say, no matter the trip or stumble”
Miles Catrose
”Sometimes little people want to take up the whole world, because it’s that or be overlooked. Miles is a good boy who needs to be a little more sure and a little less insecure.”
Pixies are capricious and arrogant but good hearted. I am sure there’s someone around the place who could calm his temper a little. I should talk to him, I need a haircut…
Yukiko Abe
”What is the song, it goes “Heeey, foxy lady!” It’s funny, non?”
Well, I thought it was funny. Her kind are old and tricksy but not necessarily bad. I am sure she will be careful with her partners.
Mona
”Sad girl, I hope she finds herself. Or at least finds the way forward.”
Ghosts, poor creatures. Humans fear death so much that sometimes they opt out of the natural process, whether they meant to or not. If she comes to the shop, I will see what I can do for her but I’m not sure she will. Some people do not want to move on.
Faron Romane
”Sometimes it’s hard to escape from one’s parent’s shadows, I think. You should meet my parent one day. Or rather, you certainly will, eventually.“
People call him a fool or an idiot and I wonder whether some parts of him believe them. I am glad he has moved out into independence but perhaps he needs someone to build his self confidence.
Nicolas Black
”It is traditional for a Frenchman to object to the police on principle, particularly one with no discretion and a suspicious nose.“
He wishes to do good, I think, and how can I object to that? He has the look of a man with bad things in his past, things that are yet to leave him alone. Unfortunately he’s also one of those people who would rather suffer quietly than find a therapist. I must think on this.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
”I had a friend named Fiacre who loved plants very much, a long time ago now. He taught me a few little tips, small things he passed on to me which maybe I should pass on to her.“
Witches are like brandies; some are good, some are bad but they all pack a punch! That said, Maggie seems like she cares about doing the right thing and working hard.
Megumi
”A charming young lady with excellent manners. I find children who shriek and scream for cakes very annoying, none of that from her.”
But then, most children have not been children for as long as her, have they? I am glad she has found Mister Queen, they will be good for each other.
Stefani Roche
”A sweet child but a little moody, non? Ah, teenagers, we all remember those days, non?“
Another young vampire? Sad creatures in many ways, because they age but do not grow, get old but can not mature. I am glad both her and Megumi have found friends and carers though.
Ari Amari
”You know, I don’t like cats very much. They hunt for fun and sleep when they could be working. Why not get a dog? They’re hard workers and don’t kill for enjoyment.“
I did not think there were any Sphinxes left and I can not say I am particularly pleased to be mistaken. Many a stupid traveller was picked from the teeth of a sphinx in the old days. Still, he seems to have turned over a new leaf here. Let us hope it is sincere.
Katharine Haynes
”A charming young lady but I haven’t seen her in my shop recently.“
Does she still live here?
Felix Underwood
”Librarians are important, a society without librarians is just a group of people with no idea where to file things.”
Talking to the dead is… complicated. Some of my fellow angels do not like it, they see it as disturbing those who have earned their rest. And while I see why they might think that, it gives hope to those who can talk to their loved ones. And who am I to stand in the way of that?
Elise Callaghan
”Quiet people, I know I should not resent them but I always feel like they’re ignoring me. Me!”
Sirens, the call on the dark sea that drags you down and down. I had never heard of one that doesn’t sing, until now. One to watch, I believe.
Claire O'Malley
”I don’t know much about her, perhaps she doesn’t know much about herself?“
We’ll see if she drops into the shop at some point.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
”Working with children is a noble calling. You build tomorrow by crafting the future’s builders.“
Like myself, Barachiel continues to fight the good fight but has put down the flaming sword.
Ethan Cooper
”Ouff! What a beefcake! I wonder if he has a sweet tooth…”
Lives with a demon and a werewolf but knows neither of their natures? He’s either dense or kindly doesn’t pry. Either way, I imagine he is a positive influence on both of them.
Alfie Liau
”My only rival in the field of sweet treats for the people of Edgetoun! I shall have the better of him yet!“
He seems to be a good sort, I hope he continues to enjoy chocolate more than blood.
Astrid Kitchener
”Artists, they work much better when they have little to eat!“
She seems more accepting of ‘others’ than her father, as always seems to be the way. Generations upon generations, each one struggling to try and make the next accept their ideals. She is a hopeful step, however.
Michael Harel
”A handsome man, non? Well be careful what you say about him, he’s my… he’s an old friend.“
Brother, we are more alike now than ever before. I wonder how the one above thinks of us, working down here in the squalor of humanity. I hope he understands why, if he even thinks about us at all.
Aila Atleo
”A lovely girl, she buys her bread from me and laughs at my jokes! And as we all know, that’s all you have to do to make Rammie your friend for ever.“
Her past is fraught and fractured but she seems to be happy here. A job, friends and two almost fathers. Let us hope things stay that way.
Emerson Maddox
”Lawyers, pah! If they are defending you, you’d better hope you paid them more than the prosecution did.“
He seems arrogant and sharp tongued, two qualities I can’t stand. I do hope he comes into the shop one day, so I can find out a little more about him.
Talia Halbrook
”I haven’t seen her around for a while, I wonder how she is.“
Demons, they seem to be everywhere these days.
Loki Van Stenberg
”A handsome man and we all like having those around, do we not? I am not sure he is one half so pretty under the surface.“
In fact, I am certain he is not. Were I forced to guess, I would hazard he lives off others in more ways than drinking blood, probably through theft or other criminal activities. Vampires, too many of them are the monsters from the night to remember those who aren’t.
Freddie Hughes-Jackson
”We all like books but people can give conversation too! I think young Freddie forgets that sometimes.“
A good boy who studies hard and wants nothing more than to be left alone to do his magic, what could be better than that? Of course, I still like making him blush when he comes in for a little treat.
Liam Woodsworth
”Another child with apathy issues, another day.“
Dhampires, yet more victims of the plague of vampirism.
Aiden Phillips
”A pretty boy, he can take my temperature whenever he wants!”
Another vampire, though this one seems a little different to Queen and Stenberg. He has a secret, that much I’m sure of, but I doubt it is a dark one.
Ryan Croft
”Ah, our hard working police commissioner! I’ll stand him a drink of coffee and doughnut whenever he comes this way.”
I think the end may be coming, the reckoning might be on the horizon. And when the rapture comes, I wonder if we will stand together or apart, brother. Justice and vengeance, rarely do they inspire hope.
Eternity Illuria Loveless
”What does she do? Night crawling? I think we are thinking of different things when you say that, mon ami.”
Fae, I cannot say I like them. They are outside of the jurisdiction of Heaven and have no interest in the morality of humanity.
Patrick Kershner
”In every group, there’s the one who’s quiet because they know what happens when they open their mouths, sadly.”
And in every pack, there’s a runt. At least he is now part of two packs, the wolves and the police. And the latter seem a little more ardent in protecting their members.
Nicodem Kaminski
”What a face, what a voice! I’ve clearly got a challenger for Edgetoun’s most attractively exotic older man.”
A vampire that files down his fangs and is accepted by Raguel is more than a curiosity, he is a minor miracle. One to watch indeed.
Anastasia Psomas
”She looks like she certainly needs a good night’s sleep and a healthy meal.”
Phoenixes, tragic beings. They burn on and on, no end in sight and no respite on the horizon.
James Bright
”He doesn’t come over to the shop anymore. A shame, I was considering employing him.”
I hope he finds his killer and his peace, he deserves it.
Naomi Ishiguro
”A little strange, non? You don’t feel quite safe near her? There’s a reason for that.”
Were I a younger being, still full of wrath and righteous fury, I would fall upon her with Heaven’s own might. Now… I only hope to steer her prey away from her.
”Kei”
”Happiness is good, whatever the source. It’s net gain for the world, I think.”
Happy fae are not always happy because something good has happened, however.
Zoey Alston
”How many bartenders can Edgetoun possibly need?”
And how many witches? I hope there’s not some sort of occult or alcoholic conspiracy going. |
1,053 | 14 | 68 | 1,621 | 202 | Location: The Early Bean
Interacting With: Barachiel || Talia || Claire || Loki (mentioned)
“Right, right. Alexander it is, then.” He bares his teeth in a grin, and sets his coffee down on the table before reaching out to grasp Barachiel’s hand. If the name wasn’t big enough of a hint, the faint, buzzing warmth that thrummed just underneath the surface of the other’s skin only confirmed his suspicions. In all his years on Earth, he hadn’t met many angels. Hell, he could probably count all the encounters he’d had with them on one hand, but Miles could almost feel the white hot grace coursing through Barachiel’s veins, radiating heat. The sensation was foreign, yet at the same time, familiar, though apart from a momentary pause, his smile never falters as he gives the other’s hand two firm shakes, withdrawing his own soon after. “I’m Miles. Miles Catrose. It’s nice to meet you.”
Barachiel, he notices, stands nearly a foot taller than him, and he makes it a point to pretend like he doesn’t notice, instead just taking another sip of coffee. This difference in stature, however, was likely the least of his worries. In his rather limited experience, angels were, more often than not, a bunch of self-righteous pricks, obsessed with punishing any supposed ‘sinners’, whether it was their business or not. Suffice to say, Miles did not fancy being on the receiving end of a smiting, and he makes a mental note to stay on Barachiel’s good side for the foreseeable future.
As he opens his mouth to speak, Miles is suddenly cut off by the arrival of a stranger. The woman appeared unfamiliar to him, though he held little doubt that she was no stranger to Edgetoun. From the lilts in her inflection, to the confidence with which she carried herself, Miles finds it easy enough to deduce that they frequented very different places in town. Was she an Other, too? If so, what kind was she? For Miles, all this uncertainty was mounting up to no small amount of unease, and almost subconsciously, he takes a small step back from the newcomer when she draws closer. Thus far, she hadn’t done a thing to set off any alarm bells, but he anticipates this peace and quiet won’t last for long.
Murmuring something conventional in reply, Miles momentarily tears his gaze away from the two, only to see someone else approaching - a mousy looking girl who was, surprisingly, even shorter than he was. But as the saying went: two’s company, and three’s a crowd, though it failed to mention one important possibility. What did you call four people? Miles thinks they should coin a new term for such a situation, though he’s quickly snapped out of his train of thought by yet another new voice thrown into the mix, barely concealing an ill-tempered scowl. Amongst crowds, the pixie is at home, but The Early Bean is a far cry from the dives he’s used to. Instead of the press of sweaty bodies, everyone moving in unison to the thumping bassline, he suddenly finds himself having to make polite conversation - with three other people, no less.
Why everyone wanted to sit here remained a mystery to him. He doubts the morning rush was bad enough to warrant such unusual behaviour.
“The snow really is getting to be a problem, isn’t it?” Miles muses to no one in particular, before fishing his phone from his pocket to check the time. As expected, he was now outrageously late for work, but in this weather, would anyone really trek all the way out into town for a haircut? For a moment, he contemplates calling in sick, though perhaps going to work would be a far better experience than staying here for even a second longer. Not that these people (if they even were people) weren’t pleasant company, but he was just starting to feel a tad claustrophobic.
“Ah, would you look at the time.” Miles picks up the two cappuccinos sitting on the table in one smooth motion, smiling a little sheepishly. “It was a pleasure meeting all of you, but I really have to get to work. Can’t keep the boss waiting, eh?”
Briefly, he glances towards the front door of the coffee-shop, though it’s only a moment before his gaze is once again focused on the three before him, eyes glittering with earnest. “If you ever need a trim, come by Mrs. Atkinson’s, won’t you? We’d appreciate the business.” | | 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?
| 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).
| 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.”)
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 3B
| Extra Information |
- |
1,054 | 14 | 69 | 2,699 | 1,255 | Anastasia Allison Psomas
Location: Faraday Heights 29A – Tube – Hospital
Interacting With: Her Father A non-consequential phone call. Suriel.
Mentioned: Zoey
“Anastasia, come home.” A man said over the phone.
“It’s Alison now.” She said feeling his tears through the corded telephone that wrapped itself around her false ego, constricting it.
“I didn’t raise an Alison.” He said, his own ego clearly not constricted like hers. “And I didn’t raise a woman who would leave her family.” His voice dripped cheap whiskey and club soda.
“Could be said that you didn’t do much raising at all.” Alison said, the chord giving way as her ego inflated.
“You don’t respect what I’ve done for you?” Her father asked, Anastasia. But Anastasia wasn’t there right now, Alison was.
“Goodbye.” She said, letting the chord snap back violently taking the phone, and her ego with it as she grabbed her blanket and covered herself with it. She shook lightly but tensed her muscles and stopped herself. Not today, not for him. She silently apologized to Zoey for the noise of the phone clattering against the ground, her father’s muffled voice saying some incomprehensible insult to her. She didn’t want to hear it, nor did she feel like he’d want her to in the long run.
She probably owed him enough to not listen to his drunken rants. She rolled over towards her window in order to fall asleep but her eyes widened. She glanced back at her clock, it flashed 12:00 AM. It fucking flashed.
“God damn it all.” Allie said quickly rolling out of bed and grabbing some underwear – quickly. She leapt into the corner of the shower, hot water that was undoubtedly too hot for comfort quickly reddened her skin. She rushed the prerequisite scrubs, soaps, lotions. She leapt out of the shower to grab her towel.
Towel.
Towel
She didn’t bring a towel. She immediately seized a hand cloth and got to work.
By the time she was running for the tube, sandwich hanging out of her mouth and bag with scrubs in hand she was ten minutes late and sweating profusely. Allie’s body temperature was very typically much higher than the average person and while she didn’t feel too warm she did manage to sweat a lot. She had to commonly pack a spare pair of scrubs and casual clothes to work as the Hospital’s heating was on pretty high during the winter.
She managed to get to the tube almost immediately before it departed taking a spot on a seat and relaxing laying back onto the window behind her. She took a bite into the sandwich that was still resting in her mouth, catching it in her right hand as it fell. She munched on it and began to truly realize how tired she was. She had gotten home the night before from work around midnight, practiced her guitar until about two in the morning and had begun to fall peacefully asleep in the nest she had created for herself. That was when her father called, they spoke for longer than she should’ve let him but it was the first time they had spoken since she had left that night. It was hard to hang up on him.
She told him about what it was like living in an apartment, how she had met Zoey, put herself into nursing school, starting a co-op there, working at the hospital.
Allison gripped her thigh roughly. Stop it girl. Her palms had begun to heat up.
She immediately got up off of her seat and walked into the bathroom, shoving past some people with her hands in her pockets. She slammed the door shut and quickly used her wrist to lock the door. Jamming the tap on full blast and sticking her hands underneath the water. Steam arose in the room as she quickly shrugged her jacket off of her back and blew the steam back down into the sink as best she could to not trip any alarms. Through the wall, she could hear someone listening to the news, most likely on their phone.
“Werewolf… Killed in captivity… Helsing Manifesto…. YouTube.”
A chill ran up Allie’s spine as her hands cooled down. It was beginning. Others were being hunted, they were officially too different.
It was when they stopped being considered human that all hope would be lost. Screw the fact that werewolves were raised in homes in the same countries as the people who would eventually hunt them, some others weren’t even aware of their status. Some were just humans who had delved deeper than some. That was just how it worked in today’s society.
This is why Allie did not believe in a higher power.
She arrived at work and immediately started stripping her normal clothes off when she hit the locker room and noticed one of the residents enter the locker room. “Morning.” She said quietly nodding to them in her skivvies. She quickly put her scrubs on and walked over to them. “Hope your shift went well, I’m running late though so we’ll catch up soon, yeah?”
Ryan Croft
Location: 14 Pratchett Road, Faircourt
Interacting With: Nicodem Kaminski
Mention of: Low Key
Ryan plunged into his breakfast once it was in front of him. But all the hunger in the world couldn’t have distracted him from the problems they were already having. He gently rubbed his cheek and inhaled deeply.
“This Helsing thing may have to overtake ‘Low Key’ for now.” He drawled quietly. “I’ll get someone onnit maybe I’ll take a rook in tonight and figure somethin’ out. If I do I trust your good with the run of the precinct?” Ryan asked, carefully scooping up a spoonful of baked beans and chomping down on the spoon.
“Nico… I need you to understand somethin’ that’s rather important to me.” Ryan said, his southern accent echoing off the walls as he gently put the spoon in the bowl resting it on its lip. “Nothing is the same anymore, if shit hits the fan and you got someone out there, or somewhere you think you oughta be… You should go whenever you feel the kitchen gets too hot. I ain’t going nowhere, no one’s waiting on for me – but you don’t owe me shit for how bad this could end up.” He said picking his spoon back up. While this was a rather normal conversation – perhaps between two cops, for Ryan and Nico, this was a first.
The two of them kept it as business, or nothing. Pleasantries, sometimes, making meals for one another, typical. Talking about this kind of personal – business was just… Not usually necessary. Neither of the men had much of a love life to speak of, Nico wasn’t aware of Ryan’s status as an Archangel, and furthermore Ryan had no one else but Nico in his personal life. The only other thing Nico didn’t know about Ryan was how much he longed for something… Personal.
It was a strange catch-22. Ryan couldn’t get personal with someone – and it wasn’t just because he would outlive most stars in the galaxy. He just didn’t look at them. He didn’t see people. He saw these little matches that were in danger of going out that he had to protect from the storm outside, which he couldn’t protect from the storm outside. Bringing that into a relationship, it was ludicrous it was unfair and it was wrong.
Besides as far as others knew, he was some young in-over-his head kid from Texas.
“Let me know when you’re ready, I’m good to pick up whenever y’are.” | Eve Lumière.
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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
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 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."
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’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."
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."
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. "
#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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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. "
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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."
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."
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."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"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."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"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."
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."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"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."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"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."
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."
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."
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. |
1,055 | 14 | 70 | 1,523 | 3,443 | Location: At Home - 1 Earl Street, Faircourt
Interacting With: Michael
Astrid didn't even blink at Michael's antics as she pushed herself up on the kitchen counter with the help of a little stool, ignoring the now wet-patch of Fairy Liquid and scummy water from the sink that likely soaked through her shorts. All he prompted was her to wipe at the sleep in her eyes – something she found rather ironic, considering she hadn't slept at all.
As it was, she frowned down at the bowl of soggy, listless cereal she'd procured only few minutes before Michael had wandered in to do the thing, whatever the hell it was she had just watched.
"Well, um, you can come if you want – maybe?" She forcefully smashed her lump of Weetabix with the back of the fork she took out to use, because their spoons were all dirty, standing up at attention in the drying rack, which really shouldn't have been used for that purpose. Astrid wasn't sure how to phrase the rest of the information she had, so instead she waved her free hand exaggeratedly and said, words, words, words, with none of them in a coherent sentence. "More, um. Police station. Dad. Not shopping so much as doing my duty as a – dutiful daughter?"
"Whatever," she finished empathically, setting down her bowl down in the half-full sink and watching as her mushy grain and milk combo meal mixed with the iridescent oil of the washing-up liquid. Astrid popped down from her impromptu seat and brushed past Michael on the way to her room, stripping off her shorts as she went and picking up a reasonably clean pair from a chair just outside the kitchen door. Close enough. Her jumper would do as it was. "If you're coming you can get ready – leaving in an hour! I'm sure there's something you can mess up at the place, just by being yourself."
Even as she let Michael do whatever he had been with the clearly baked potato, the kitchen door closing behind her, she wondered if her 'doppelganger' as Michael had said existed was having a better life than her. | Basic Information
| Name |
Alistair Ruaraidh Queen
| Date of Birth |
December, 1324
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Bisexual
| Occupation |
Landlord – Alistair owns a great deal of property in Edgetoun, and has done for about a century. This passive income, as well as close to seven centuries worth of savings, allows him to spend more time socialising, schmoozing and collecting rare occult texts (the likes of which impoverished student witches can only dream of).
| In-Depth Appearance |
Alistair was changed in his mid-to-late twenties (the uncertainty natural for vampires of his era or older) and as a result has been frozen at such an age for close to seven centuries. While he lived a haggard life and doesn't appear too baby-faced, he does attempt to look older for reasons of respect. Generally he does so by wearing easy business suits, woolen jumpers with checkered shirts underneath; by letting his stubble grow out and furrowing his brows enough so that dark lines form between them; and, of course, the reading glasses that are only present during the day when he's not having fun.
He stands at about 5'9" – tall for his time period of malnutrition and famine and illness but only slightly above-average nowadays in Britain. A lean build betrays an upbringing where food wasn't plentiful, and might also explain the way he abstains from drinking blood for at least a week before chowing down on some poor ICU patient in a hospital. With blonde hair, brown eyes and a jawline to die for, Alistair can definitely be considered ruggedly handsome.
Pale skin doesn't look too unusual in London, and he's more than experienced in smirking in just the right way so as to hide his elongated fangs. Alistair hides the bite scar on his neck from when he was turned with a variety of turtle-necks and scarves, though he does have other ones from his time working for the Collective. Did you know he's been run through with a sword in the very distant past?
Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Aloof ♦ Dreamer ♦ Flirtatious ♦ Self-Deprecating ♦
Alistair has always been ambitious for as long as he can remember. When he was impoverished, illiterate and very likely to die young, he wanted more; when he was making a name for himself in the vampire community, he wanted more; when he was middle-class; when he was rich; when he was a socialite... Nothing ever satisfies him: he's chasing dreams of his youth and can be seen as quite greedy as a result. There is no doubt an aspect to his life goals that is largely hedonistic. When he's charitable (which is quite often, actually) it's more for his sake, to make himself feel good.
He's the first person to admit all of this – he tends not to have a positive view of himself and is actually quite self-aware.
"You miss 100% of every shot you don't take." This is certainly something Alistair lives by, hence his tendency to flirt shamelessly and without reservation and take risks in his private and professional lives. It's also what is prompting him to come out as a vampire to the public, joining the small number providing interviews and information. He is curious, and he does believe the best of humanity for now.
Despite being warm and friendly and on occasion humorous, Alistair hold his cards close to his chest. He likes to know more about other people than they know about him, and is not very forthcoming on answering personal questions without a good reason to do so. He much prefers to change the subject, or question the other person instead. He is a good listener, with a long memory when it counts: he'll remember someone's favourite movie and why he's holding a grudge against them at the same time.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Historical movies and documentaries (the more wrong, the better).
✔ Alcohol. Getting utterly pissed at least two nights a week.
✔ Kids.
✔ Drinking lots of blood – particularly from the terminally ill.
✔ The invention of electricity.
✔ The invention of Tinder.
✔ 1960s culture and film and especially music.
✔ Trashy erotica novels targeted at women and ancient manuscripts, equally.
✘ Dhampires – it's not fair that they die so fast.
✘ Wars. World Wars, supernatural wars, everything to do with conflict.
✘ English bank notes (the Scottish ones look nicer).
✘ Aristocracy, as old habits die hard.
✘ Illness, disease and death of loved ones.
✘ Journalists and the Media, especially with current events.
✘ Similarly, liars.
| History |
If asked, Alistair remembers very little about his human life – the only time when his memory has failed him yet – but in reality he is quite reluctant to talk about it. Born in the 1300s, he was neither rich or middle-class and could instead have been considered the very bottom of the barrel. His mother was a prostitute, suffering from ill-health for most of her life, and thus Alistair was raised communally, left to wander the streets as he liked. He was kicked out at age eight, a year before his mother died, and spent most of the rest of his life as a gutter rat, picking pockets and stealing to live (and for fun).
He would have died from the bubonic plague, something he avoided until the very end of the period it was most virulent in, if it hadn't been for a vampire looking to bolster his forces. His preference for sickly blood arose here, because as a fledgeling, he was allowed only to feed from the very worst people on the way up to the Highlands to fight a war with other vampires. Said war he glosses over, except the fact he ran from it (joining the opposite side, a young Northern Alliance) and was stabbed. Twice.
Alistair stuck around with the northern vampires for a good fifty years, becoming useful to the at-the-time leader and making a bit of a name for himself, but he decided that a life of petty politics and infighting and enforcing the rules of vampirekind wasn't for him, and moved down south to join the Collective... which was more of the same thing. Still, while in London, he learned how to read and write – skills he was long overdue in requiring – and although he left yet another large organisation after only a few decades, he found a home in the sprawling capital.
So, over the centuries he acquired wealth from working in a variety of professions, rarely for more than a few years. At one point he was a diplomat for the King which made it all the easier to hide his aging, especially when he was on the other side of the world. In the 19th century in particular he became something of a well-known figure, generous to supernatural creatures who had found themselves to one of the most powerful countries in the world and calmer than he had been in years previous. He worked as a teacher for a while in a non-public school, acquired land in Edgetoun (before it was a London borough) and spent most of the rest of his money.
20th and 21st century, other than siring a few dhampire children by accident, has been spent collecting old relics of the past – of his past – and magical textbooks. When the Other were revealled recently, he had to deal with his daughter (who shares the same surname as him) coming out as a dhampire and explaining what it means to be one on live television as well as rehouse a few of his tenants for privacy reasons.
| Family |
Louis Queen, 35 – Son, a dhampire who lives on the other side of London that Alistair sees infrequently. Seems to have distanced himself as much as is possible from the whole supernatural dealings, although strained phone calls have revealed that health issues related to his half-breed status are finally catching up to him.
Lorna Queen, 16 – Daughter, another dhampire who lives with her mother, a prominent journalist for the BBC. Alistair still has visitation rights, which he tries his best to make use of in his spare time. His daughter was interviewed as a part of the initial outbreak of moral panic at the reveal.
Otherwise, he has two ex-girlfriends, both amazingly still alive thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, and in the past has had quite a few more children, all of which died before their time due to the perils of being a dhampire.
| Strengths |
Well-read and knowledgeable of the history of the supernatural (especially vampires).
Tries his best to stay connected to the occult population of Edgetoun, and London as a whole.
A long history of enforcing the rules of the Collective on unruly and unforgivable vampires.
| Weaknesses |
Pacifistic – refuses to admit that sometimes there are situations that words can't get you out of.
Even though he collects them, he doesn't like to call in favours or accept any help whatsoever. Does everything solo.
Likes humanity, if in a bit of a condescending way, and can't conscience doing wrong by them.
Other
| Theme Song |
Winter Sound – Of Monsters and Men
”Stop, you're cold against the skin
Take me in your arms when walls are closing in
And I run, I run, I run, awakening my heart
But you overwhelm my lungs and it's tearing me a-part.”
| House Number |
19 Avalon Point – A large-ish house with a sizable back garden that he moved into eight years ago or so. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and one of the bedrooms he tends to rent out to a supernatural in need.
| Extra Information |
Speaks and understand several languages (French, Gàidhlig, German, Japanese) but can only read and write in English.
Blake Preston
"I own the house she rents. It feels a wee bit unethical to watch her YouTube videos."
Alistair didn't even know earning a living with homemade videos was even possible before he met his tenant, unless one was in a certain industry (Nikita, please). While Blake skipped on rent a few times, paid it late on others, he always let it slide easily and without further reproach – something a lot of landlords might not have done. Maybe it was because he had a soft-spot for go-getting entrepreneurs or maybe it was for a pretty face; who knows?
Daniel Belson
"Do you think if I recite the Lord's Prayer he'll sneeze? 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name...'"
You can take a boy out of the church but you can't quite shake the catechism from his blood. Alistair doesn't consider himself to be rather Christian, or really religious at all, really, but he hides behind the debt he owes to the church itself for keeping him alive and from the clutches of starvation so he could reach an age to die of the plague. Demons like Daniel make him feel uneasy, perhaps because they bring with them reminders that he was taught to avoid sin and vices – and, as a poor child with not a penny to his name, especially envy.
Mariska Costas
"Believe it or not, sometimes I like to live life like the upper class. Listening to jazz is part and parcel of that, isn't it?"
Generally, Alistair likes to know what everyone around him is, supernatural-wise. He can pick out a normal human from a distance, mostly based on how nice their blood is, but sometimes there's tricky ones like Mariska. He's certain she's not a vampire, but that's all he knows, other than that he heard her first when she was making her debut in lounges in the 1930s. One day, he tells himself, he'll chase her up to find out what she actually his. 'Curiosity killed the cat,' is a warning that stays forever in his mind.
Nikita Yankovsky
"So, Nikita is a policewoman now. At least if it doesn't work out she has a new uniform to use in her 'day job'. Authentic."
Alistair likes Nikita, in a completely unromantic way. Friend, friend with benefits – what's the difference? There never used to be one in the 19th century, or at least not in his social group. There is some hope that his own position as a supernatural pariah (when it inevitably comes out into the open like airing a dusty cupboard) doesn't affect hers. She seems to be doing quite well for herself, for a demon. It might seem shallow, but he considers that the only reason they wouldn't work out. Alistair is well-aware that he is apprehensive as fuck around demons.
Mordred Hame
"I might have liked his music when I was an angsty thirteen year old with nothing to live for. Now that I mention it..."
If asked, Alistair will say that it is greatest shame that he once listened to Mordred Hame's music. It's not bad, objectively, but it's not his "scene", his "jam" or whatever it is the kids are calling it these days. That they play it in those alternative clothing stores that he just so happened to be in to buy a cute backpack for Megumi was enough of a dose for him. Small quantities of this music only, please, as it should be. On a more serious note, he worries that it's going to give bad preconceptions to the supernatural community.
John Taylor
"What the fuck is he..?"
Okay, so nobody ever said that Alistair wasn't a drama queen, but the point still stands. John is one of his tenants (Faraday Heights, 28A if he remembers correctly) and... somewhat human? But not edible? But disgusting for no apparent reason? Alistair trusts his senses for the most part: they let him know if someone close to him has a terminal illness; they let him know when there's a meal to be had in the area and not the home-cooked kind, but they simply don't function as they should around John – not if he's a normal human. Which he can't be. He can't be.
Eve Lumière
"Now there's a lust demon if ever I saw one. Rooming with Blake Preston. Not going to think too hard on that one."
Eve's an ironic name for a demon, isn't it? That was the first thing he noticed when he met her, because obviously he had experience enough with Nikita to know one almost by sight. The bar she works in isn't the best – I should know, I own the building – but usually when I drop by I'm tipsy enough so as not to complain. I like her, but she's French. That's just begging the question, even if half-hearted: 'Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?"
Opallum
"He's not human, is he? It's a shame, but even some of our own fall through the cracks."
Alistair is naturally curious: is it an addiction problem? Is it a matter of pride? Is it incompatibility with the modern world moving on from whenever the guy – the Other – was born? He could help with any of that, just like he always slips a tenner into a cup when he sees a homeless person begging on the streets. Soft-hearted? No, not really, but he knew what it was like in a time before warm jackets and a good chance of a warm meal everyday. He can sympathise.
Andrew Mordekai
"I swear to God – or whatever ones he worships – if that activist group turns sour. I'm done with London."
Alistair has seen enough peaceful protests in his life go sour that he has a natural distrust for activist groups. While hearing that one wants to represent him is heart-warming really, from what he's seen of the witch (always from afar) and heard of from a friend in the magical circles, someone who's an elemental mage with a talent for fire of all things shouldn't be the leader. Volatile, very volatile. He'll be watching that movement, and a small part of him is expecting arson from it.
Suriel White
"Dr. White, we have a problem! There's a patient going into cardiac arrest in Ward 3. Cause of death: exsanguination by my hand."
Alistair is deeply, deeply sorry for his loss of control. The event happened almost two years ago, an inability to control his bloodlust after a long period of abstinence, and it was a coma patient who suffered – their family losing out on having their last moments with them. He remembers very little for that night, having slipped behind a curtain with a bunch of flowers to pretend he was in the area to visit another patient shortly after his accident to watch the affair, and Dr. White was one of them. Not human. He hopes the good doctor didn't see him then.
Miles Catrose
"I cut my own hair because I'm thrifty – is this guy a good alternative? Anybody know?"
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Yukiko Abe
"I know she's not as young as she looks, but how old? It gets hard to tell after a certain point, usually when you stop counting birthdays.."
Write what they actually think about this character here.
Mona
"Dead. Young, too, by the looks of it. Just a kid."
Alistair believes in ghosts. He sees her wandering around every so often, and he rents out the flat to Felix Underwood, so he knows of this Mona's prolonged existence. A part of him is morbidly curious around ghosts. When you've lived as long as he has, questions of the after-afterlife begin to pop up, because technically (by church standards) Alistair is already dead. Will he end up like her after somebody shanks him? Probably not – his life is fulfilling enough and he's certain he won't leave anything behind as a vampire anyway. He wonders what Mona's unresolved issue is.
Faron Romane
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Nicolas Black
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Megumi
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Katharine Haynes
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Elise Callaghan
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Claire O'Malley
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Ethan Cooper
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Alfie Liau
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Michael Harel
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Emerson Maddox
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Talia Halbrook
"What your character will say out loud about them."
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Loki Van Stenberg
"I'm just waiting for the day the police show up at my door asking me where he is, and I have to lie and say I'm not hiding him."
Alistair is a pacifist: he prefers words to actions, diplomacy to force, socialism, freedom of speech but not the freedom to harm others... But he hasn't always been like that. Loki's a "tad" older than him, most likely smarter than him, and for the longest time, Alistair was a little starstruck – especially shortly after their first meeting many centuries ago. Ambition ran in his blood back then, and he always did learn by rote, or mimicry. For a time, Alistair copied Loki, became just as violent as him; twice as bloody.
He grew out of that when he learned to read, properly, and broke free enough to start making a name for himself in different fields. Alistair is a firm believer that despite his disinterest in bloodshed and violence, and his hope that the worlds of the supernatural and humanity will one day merge, he is not incompatible with his once best friend, with whom he had the foolish, almost childish belief of taking on the world. After all, Alistair is nothing if not dedicated, and no matter how much he dislikes killing, he would for Loki. That's what best mates are for.
That, and banter.
Aiden Phillips
"I turned him. I always did have a thing for blondes."
Write what they actually think about this character here. |
1,056 | 14 | 71 | 792 | 4,390 | Mariska Costas
Location: Faraday Heights; 28A
Interacting With: John Taylor ()
Their tastes in cuisine was wildly different, but Mariska had to give kudos where it was due. She would never have the gall to roll up a sausage in a pancake - she cringed even at the more widly accepted supposed snack of 'pigs in a blanket' - but bless John for knowing what he liked and how he liked it. There were certain things that didn't work with food: anything served on a stick, meat that loses its pink, or anything slathered in ketchup or other condiments. But, Mariska still wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, or the stomach as the case may be, nor would she do anything other than let her thoughts on John's eating habits remain just that. Thoughts.
"Sure I got paid, but it's not really about the money, John. A little recognition every now and then would be nice, you know? At least down at a lounge I get applause. At that place...I was upstaged by...Countdown." It was nice to be able to gripe every so often but she didn't want to come off as whiny or anything of the sort. She knew quite well that if it was fame she was after, she had had those opportunities long ago. They said it never knocked twice, but they don't account for people who live longer than average lifespans.
Mariska understood that her griping would go one way; it was still nice to let them hit air. John was a busy sort, he had a much more stable sort of career (and a far better work ethic, clearly), so as he took his pancakerito and headed for the door, Mariska saw him off with a wave and a declaration of well wishing. And then there was one.
Mariska had no immediate plans for the morning, she had half expected to still be dead asleep at this hour, and would have to find ways to entertain herself. And that was a task that could very well take hours. With a shrug, Mariska stood from the kitchen table and sauntered her way towards the bathroom. The warmth of a shower would help her think, and it would help wake her up, and it would above all just feel goddamned wonderful.
And if she just so happened to feel a song come to mind...then that was just another benefit of the greatest invention man ever made.
Emerson Maddox
Location: The Streets of Edgetoun
Interacting With: Himself
Why the hell didn't he bring the car? Emerson Maddox was somebody now. His name was on a goddamn building...or it would be once the new sign and display came in; his name was on a goddamn door and sometimes on the telly. It hadn't been the easiest road, but nothing worth striving towards ever came easily and the road to having his name on billboards, buildings, and the lips of the common rubes needing counsel was paved with the bodies of the ones he stabbed in the back to get there. And yet as Emerson trudged through the snow on the sidewalk, designer black coat doing little to shield him from the cold (but doing LOADS to make him feel more succesful), the only thought he had was why he thought it best to leave his car back at the house.
Of course the answer was simple and one he spoke aloud to himself. "Fucking fairies." The morning news came with a warning of a snow storm later in the afternoon and Emerson doubted that it was just some empty threat. There would be little sense in trying to drive his car through a blizzard; it was not a car meant for such harsh conditions. His was a car that worked as a conversation piece and a status symbol. Who didn't feel a little bit envious of someone whose car cost more than what the common idiot made in half a year? Emerson thought of it as a congratulatory gift, and his parents had as well - seeing as how they foot half the bill.
So instead Emerson would be miserable on his way to the office...on the way to his office; He had a secretary now and everything, assuming of course secretaries just came with the promotion anyway. "Should've just gotten the bloody car." Emerson's feet were getting wet, his fault for not wearing the proper sort of boots, and it was only going to get worse before it got better.
Yet Emerson saw the positive in his present situation. This weather was prime for causing accidents, lazy sorts and shit drivers losing their grip and hitting some family of four - maybe down to three after the fact - meant a potentially lucrative source of clients. The grieving family or banged up driver were ripe for the manipulation. People looked down at the supposed 'ambulance chasers' of the world, but Emerson had a strange knack for finding the positive in the tragic.
Considering the rather passive aggressive slant the Unseelie Fae were taking with their threat of a snowstorm...Emerson was hoping for someone to get into trouble because of it. He was already seeing the headlines. 'LAWYER TAKES FAE TO COURT' or something with a bit more cleverness to it. His name was on the wall now. But there was always room to grow, and being the first lawyer in his firm to prosecute an Other would be huge.
And that was worth suffering through the snow. He had already endured far worse in his young life. What was one more thing?
"Do I have time for a coffee?" Emerson checked his watch as he trudged along. Even if not for coffee, he would have to find some place to take a quick break soon anyway; his cheeks were getting red and that was doing him no favors at all. "Better not. The coffee in this town is straight rubbish anyway."
He'd warm himself elsewhere. He had all the time in the world.
Location: Edgetoun Memorial Hospital, Pediatrics Ward
Interacting With: Nurses and Children. Children and Nurses. Nildren and Curses.
The nurses knew immediately that she didn't belong. For one thing she wasn't an adolescent. None of the young patients were related to her in any way. And, and this one was rather petty, she looked like she had just wandered in off the street. There was a strange woman skipping along the pediatrics ward of Edgetoun Memorial Hospital and the nurses on shift were still deciding on just how to handle this very strange situation. And yes, the woman was actually skipping as if the hospital were some sort of playground.
Kei had a spring in her step and the season was still the blistering winter; but why should a little bit of snow dampen one's spirits? She knew from the moment she entered the hospital that people were staring at her, and she honestly couldn't blame them. It's hard not to stare at someone who was wearing a neon pink shirt and a pair of equally loud yellow pants; even if the clothing burned the eyes...that wasn't something that was easily ignored. It wasn't just Kei's choice of attire that drew the odd looks, but also the fact that she was carrying a handful of balloons, each bearing a different message. There was one that congratulating a marriage, three birthday ones, a graduation or two, an exclamation of having a child...but not a single one that bore the phrase 'get well soon'.
The balloon carrying woman entered an elevator and smiled at the people getting on with her. Some took that time to duck out, claiming that they'd take the next one, and still Kei smiled and waved at them as the doors closed.
When she arrived at the children's ward, Kei didn't bother checking it with any of the nurses, instead choosing a room at random and handing a balloon to the child inside. To a little boy that was going under the knife Kei gave a birthday balloon marketed for girls. To a girl that had been in a traffic accident, Kei gave a marriage balloon. She spoke no words to them or to the parents that were in some of the rooms. She merely entered, tied the balloon to the bedrail (or handed it to the children when she could), smiled, waved, and went on to the next room.
When all of her balloons were gone, Kei took to skipping along the ward while the nurses looked on in confusion. What confused them wasn't that Kei was skipping, but rather the pressing question as to why she had gone out of her way to give balloons to strangers. What confused even further were the nurses who recognized Kei. "She gave flowers to some cancer patients about a week ago," one nurse said as if it was something completely ordinary, "A week before that? Cookies for the nursing staff down in intensive care."
The nurses knew that she didn't belong.
But they were content to let Kei skip right along.
She even made a few of them smile right along with her.
Naomi Ishiguro
Location: Churchill Gardens, 4A
Interacting With: Online Creeps and Her Children
As with every day the first thing Naomi Ishiguro did was check her inbox on one of the various dating services she was subscribed to. It was rare that she found anyone worth pursuing, but she wasn't looking for dates, but rather the worst sorts of scum. If there was a better place to see the negative aspects of humanity (of which there were several) she had to look no further than the pathetic sorts who were so inept with their romantic life that they resorted to the most impersonal method this side of mail order brides. Naomi didn't even have to work all that hard. A decently risque photo, a mentioning of her...'exotic' background, and she didn't even have to fill in a profile before being hit with all manner of messages.
Like flies to honey.
Or to a web.
"Good morning, loves," Naomi spoke in her sensual husk as she sat down at one of the few pieces of furniture in her flat, "Shall we find our next meal?"
Naomi glanced around at her 'loves' who were, at present, climbing on the walls and the ceiling or in their webs, enjoying their breakfast flies. Naomi lost count of how many spiders were under her roof, only that there were enough to consider them family. Her flat was rather bare, with no furniture other than a desk, laptop, a chair, a phone, a radio, a rather old television, and a couple of floor lamps. There were no beds. No couches. There was a refrigerator off in some lonely corner. But such amenities were wasted on Naomi. What use did she have for a bed?
But the spiders? There were more spiders on the walls than there were material objects. And they were constantly crawling about.
The low light of the laptop lit up as Naomi moved her deft little fingers along the trackpad. QuikDate was today's lucky winner as she typed in her credentials. Her inbox had lit up, a healthy dose of fresh messages written by fresher meat.
'I love Asian women, wanna grab a coffee?' "Too plain." A quickly deleted message.
'Your hot, I'm hot, lets stop pretending' "Someone thinks highly of themselves. All bone, no meat. There's confidence and then there's...this."
'Hot pic. Here's mine'
Naomi sighed in anger before clicking off the website entirely. Perhaps the online method was losing its efficiency...or Naomi was losing her edge. Why was she being so selective now? There was a time when all three of those insipid message writers. would have been tangled up in her web, their bones lining the ground beneath the flooring. But now? She was hesitating.
Because now she could be discovered.
The worst thing that ever happened was the revelation that Others existed. Now Naomi couldn't simply indulge in her twisted, murderous desires; now there was the very real possibility that people start connecting dots. People go missing all the time, but now Others would make for the perfect scapegoat. Naomi was no innocent. There was centuries of blood on her legs. With news of some human organization and their prejudices...Naomi wondered if they would come to collect.
And the thought made an unsettling smile creep its way across her lips.
This was sure to be...interesting. | Jorōgumo || The Binding Bride
Basic Information
| Name |
Naomi Ishiguro
| Date of Birth |
The exact date is long lost to time, but Naomi celebrates a birthday on January 1. She is at least four hundred years old, birthdays stop mattering after a time.
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Asexual
Hers is sex not for desire nor for need, but a different sort of pleasure.
| Occupation |
Have you ever watched the telly and heard a pleasant voice on an advert or announcing an ad break? Perhaps you've heard a voice on the radio that isn't just the disc jockey or the useless weather report, but a voice selling a product you suddenly find yourself wholly interested in. Naomi is one of those voices. Her vocal talents have taken her places, from fast food commercial narration to audiobooks, and now, at present, to a late night call in program on the radio. A Voice Actress and Radio Personality.
Of course, everyone has their fronts. Naomi's true occupation, such as it is, is far less reputable.
| In-Depth Appearance |
Of the many phrases and sayings in the world, one of them happens to be 'you have a face for radio' which is an indirect way of calling someone not attractive enough to be on television. Or, rather, simple an offhanded remark to call someone ugly. Naomi has never heard that saying, and often gets asked why she chooses to stay behind the camera, isolated in sound booths and in radio studios. Naomi looks quite great for age, that age being somewhere in the realm of five hundred twenty, give or take. She's aged like the finest of wines, with a blemish free face that, despite being the visage of a woman in her late thirties, still seems as youthful as if she were in her early thirties.
Naomi is an older woman that doesn't let a little number like age hold her back. She's tall, coming in at 5'10", with a rather svelte figure, though with the right amount of eye catching curvature to the hips. There's a hunger to be found in her deep blue, almost violet, eyes that only increases when the cosmetics draw attention to them; what the hunger is is often misinterpreted as something carnal...which is exactly by design.
Naomi's hair never seems to grow beyond its current length, though its style ranges from a full volume affair to a messier, more sensual style; regardless of the style it always serves to enhance her present look. Said looks depend on what she manages to pull out of the closet on any particular day. Naomi doesn't like to toot her own horn or anything, but she pays little attention to fashion trends or styles and simply wears what looks good - and considering Naomi is someone that looks good in damn near anything, her options are quite endless. When she isn't wearing heels, she's barefoot - which is to say she's barefoot about seventy percent of the time, often removing her heels while working or travelling long distances on public or private transport.
Naomi flaunts what she has, but not in an overly obvious way. The flip of the hair, the sideways look, the well timed smile, subtle tricks to ensnare and capture the attentions of the younger adventurous types...or the older and bored ones. And this is to say nothing of her voice, which doesn't have any hypnotic bend to it, but it just sounds like velvet in the ears...albeit velvet coated with a rather posh accent...that sometimes sounds absolutely put on.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Venomous ♦ Predatory ♦ Immoral ♦ Lascivious ♦
Some people that have seen Naomi looking towards them have had similar thoughts of 'this must be too good to be true' and if only they knew how right they were. Though when she's out and about (or offering advice and facilitating discussion to the lonely young people that call in) it's true that her appearance and attitude showcase a flirtatious, teasing demeanor...but most, if not all, of that is a perfected act. Naomi doesn't care about others, though humans especially so, and them being so easily manipulated by such simple things as a wink only reinforces her belief that those that fall into her web deserve what's coming to them.
For Naomi, her little...let's call them 'indiscretions' are just a fun little game, one where she sets the rules and conditions so that she always manages to win. She isn't all bad, despite what her hobby and true occupation might have one believe, she's actual quite insightful and genuinely seems to take an interest in helping those that call her for advice. Most of the topics tend to be about love or sex, but even still she speaks not as some stuffy expert explaining things for idiots, but rather as one friend offering sage-like advice to another. Naomi even waves to the neighbors, gives all her change from transactions to the cashiers, and has talked up charity organizations on air.
But of course, don't let that fool you.
It's a shame, then, that she's too far gone down her own long twisted beliefs to become a good person, because she comes so close when she's working. Of course, that could all just be part of her intricate little game as well, after all...no one ever suspects the nice ones.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Online dating; she maintains several profiles on various websites...though not for hookups.
✔ Horror movies. Are there any better comedies out there than those?
✔ Adult entertainment; it utterly fascinates her the depths people will go to find odd pleasures
✔ Gambling; Not really an addiction or anything, but she enjoys the thrill of a game of chance
✔ Red wine, aged, of course
✔ Commercial breaks; she is just vain enough to love it when she hears her ads in person
✔ String instruments
✘ People. Just in general. People.
✘ Fire, be it from the fireplace or a match or a candle
✘ Wasps, especially the big ugly ones
✘ Lizards...they're incredibly gross
✘ She could go without birds, now that you mention it
✘ Mirrors
✘ Music produced on machines
| History |
There's a folk tale in Japan that tells of spiders gaining 'magical powers' and what a terrifying thought that would be. But of course, such tales could very well have a basis in fact...and Naomi is living proof of that. For the first four centuries of her life, Naomi had no name or identity, she was born and she had to do what it took to survive: trapping smaller insects in webs, being clever to avoid larger predators, watch and do nothing as others in her family were eventually picked off for being stupid. Time had little meaning for Naomi because she had no concept of it. To her, a year might as well have been a night. The only indication that things were changing was the expansion of beings that walked on two legs and swatted away the insects of the world without so much as a thought. A curious Naomi once tried to trap a human in the same manner she trapped all her food, but her web only served to annoy the humans.
Yet Naomi continued to live on. And she continued to grow.
She didn't quite know when it happened, again what did she know of time, but one morning she found that she felt...different, and that she had grown larger still. It was when a human came across her path and stopped to speak to her that she knew something was wrong. Naomi, then taking the appearance of a pale, black haired, young woman, had woken up as looking no different than a human, albeit one who was without clothing. She looked like a human...but she did not forget what she was, and neither did her body. That unfortunate human who was overcome with a carnal desire upon sight was dragged off to a cave and Naomi feasted for days.
Naomi became a Jorōgumo, a spider that, after living for four centuries, became able to transform herself into a seductive woman in order to trap men and devour them. In her body was not blood but venom and her hair doubled as webbing strong enough to bind a human...she no longer had to fear them. Naomi then lived as a predator, living near enough to human settlements to gather attention just to lead the hapless victim to her dwellings where she took her time savoring what came next. Though her human appearance was nigh indistinguishable from the real thing, she came to learn that any reflection, be it from glass or water or any reflecting surface, would show her true self: her arachnid form. Over the years she became able to stay a human woman for longer periods of time, though she cannot maintain the form forever. Even in her present state she can go maybe ten hours straight and that's if she's feasted recently. She is, after all, human in appearance only.
Naomi spent her years as Jorōgumo being a predator. She's long lost count of the men and women she's captured, poisoned, and gotten rid of over the years. Of course when a disturbing number of people go missing mysteriously...questions start getting asked and panic starts setting in. But of course, Naomi never left a body behind. Bones? Sure. But never a body. With a monumental chip on her shoulder and the transformation ability on lock, Naomi has only adapted her tactics with time. Now she is more than willing to let prey walk into her traps than to lure them herself. She enjoyed a great run of being an absolute monster but now that Others have been revealed to the world...matters have certainly become complicated.
People already hate spiders. What would they think of a spider like Naomi?
| Family |
Naomi considers the spiders that live in her home to be her family. For...for obvious reasons.
| Strengths |
Resourceful. She'd have to be to keep up her activities this long
Meticulous
Crafty
| Weaknesses |
Insatiable bloodlust
Irrational hatred for most things
Easily panicked
The Other
| Theme Song |
Sober – Elli Ingram
”And when the lights get low
And I let it take control
And I’m feeling so alone
One more sip and then it’s gone
And then I lose my soul
To the poison then I’m on one
But I can’t let it go to waste
And I love the way it taste”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 4A
| Extra Information |
She claims to be able to talk to spiders...and she probably can. Why else would she let them hang out on her walls.
Solitary Fae || Yōsei
Basic Information
| Name |
'K', spelled as 'Kei' on official documents. 'K' is the very short form of her 'real name' which is a series of given names given to her over the years. Kei was the first, so 'Kei' it is.
| Date of Birth |
July 14, during the Meiji Period. For the sake of ease, she picked the year 1995 because it sounded funny
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Pansexual
Kei just loves and that's all there is to it.
| Occupation |
In the most technical sense she's unemployed. However, she is often seen doing altruistic activities, from volunteering with the elderly, to helping out at charity functions, and being a translator for the hearing impaired at large social functions. In the broad sense of the term occupation, Kei would be a Volunteer. She doesn't take salaries but survives on both goodwill and generous donations, but she never asks for them.
| In-Depth Appearance |
For someone that is so quiet Kei's sense of style is rather loud. Though rather short, standing at just about five feet flat, she stands out due to her eccentric choice in attire. Rare is the day when Kei isn't wearing clashing, bright colors or mismatched articles of clothing or bogged down with so many accessories that she sounds like a piggy bank when she walks. There's a very childish quality to her style, like what one would imagine a child would dress like if their parents just let them go wild for a day.
Though Kei wears bright, gaudy clothing, the brightest thing about her is her smile. She's always smiling, even towards people that she's never met, and her wide grin is matched by the wonder that is clear in her bright brown eyes. How her eyes are so bright is a mystery, but they're the brightest browns Kei has ever seen. Much like with her clothing, Kei's hair is eccentric though has periods where the style doesn't change, just the color. Often she'll go blonde for a month and then spend half a year with brown hair before deciding that she felt like streaking her hair in a rainbow.
What makes her vibrant style all the more odd - as if there weren't enough oddities as is - is that she doesn't look like a child; she actually looks like an adult, albeit one that still possess the quality of life that several youths have. But there are blemishes on her skin covered up by cosmetics (which area also eyecatching and vibrant) and a sort of weary-eyed tiredness behind the wide wonderment. She's an especially slim woman, but with that comes a flexibility that always manages to get applause and oohs and aahs from those she's entertaining.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Childish ♦ Eternally Optimistic ♦ Vibrant ♦ Altruistic ♦
Kei only cares about one thing on any given day and that is making sure that anyone she meets leaves with a smile or, failing that, a brightened mood. She treats the world and the things she sees with a childlike wonder, impressed by the simplest things no matter how often she sees them. Kei is the type of person who is amazed every time someone turns on the lights in a dark room. This also has he unfortunate side effect of her being rather naive, or at least quite good at pretending to be naive. Kei doesn't see the bad in anyone, still believing after all these years that everyone is a wonderful person and that so-called 'bad people' are just people that don't know how good they truly are.
Of course, because things are rarely so sunshine and rainbows as Kei would like to believe, she has been taken advantage of countless times in her life. People have taken every bit of money she had on her person and she would still wave them goodbye and wish them well. That she is so positive could very much be seen as dangerous, after all who was always so damn happy, but with Kei that's just how she is. There's no deep ulterior motive, she's just happy to meet you and happier to help you if she can.
Even still, Kei has felt the years and the countless instances of strife, from small conflicts to larger, world affairs, and though she has remained so upbeat all this time...it's definitely taken its toll on the girl. Her greatest fear is in finding out what would happen if she should wake up one day and not feel positive. She doesn't believe she could handle such a powerful mood swing so she'll continue to smile until it hurts.
And even then she'll endure it so long as it makes people happy.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Children, and their innocent laughter and joy
✔ The satisfaction that comes with helping others
✔ Ice Cream. Such a sweet treat should be enjoyed year round!
✔ Walking under an umbrella on a rainy day, with company or alone
✔ Stand up comedians, but not the super raunchy ones.
✔ Handheld games, they're so colorful!
✔ Making snow angels or really any weather-related activity
✘ Rude, vulgar people
✘ Being ignored
✘ People that don't thank others for holding the door open
✘ Spicy foods, why do they have to be so hot?
✘ Action movies
✘ People that spend most of their day looking at their phones. You're missing out on life!
✘ Loud, abrasive music
| History |
For the longest time, Kei was alone. She was born, she believes, but she knew only the faces of her parents and the hushed whispers before things went dark. When she awoke, she was alone and lost, living near a mountain in relative seclusion. Animals fled from her; perhaps they could sense the magical energies present inside of her, magical energies which never seemed to manifest themselves. Still, Kei, then a nameless fairy, tried to keep a positive outlook on her situation. She was surrounded by such beauty, after all, the trees and grass, the clouds in the sky, the wind in the air...what was not to love about, well...life?
Her first meeting with others came when her ears picked up the sounds of what sounded like singing. Curious, Kei followed her ears to find a gathering of humans who weren't singing but rather praying as they buried one of their own. Kei didn't say a word, she merely observed this curious act until it ended. As the humans were returning to their homes, Kei met the gaze of a young man; she waved to him but he was whisked away before any further interaction could be made. The man came back a few days later and attempted to converse with Kei. Kei had never heard the language before, but enjoyed listening to the speech. The man believed that she was like the spirits in the stories, the ones that could bring the dead back to life.
The man took her back to his home where his mother had fallen gravely ill. He wanted Kei to save her but the only comfort Kei could bring was to make the sickly woman's last days brighter. The mother passed on with a smile and Kei was welcomed among the humans as someone to ease the transition fro life to death. She didn't exactly understand this, but she was needed, she was loved, and she was happy. Kei was given the name Kei, after the first man's mother, and she lived among the people, learning their language at a rapid pace. It wasn't long before she was actually having conversations with everyone.
But time is a cruel mistress and the people Kei lived with eventually succumbed to their own end. But Kei wouldn't let sadness keep her down, she couldn't. So she traveled, finding another village and living among them. While she couldn't raise the dead, she could ease the dying and that was a valued commodity in those days. Kei's heart knew no evil and is what allowed her to remain so youthful and childish well into her years.
With the advent of continental travel, Kei's horizons expanded, and for the longest time she simply found a place to settle and learn and interact with the population. Spoken languages were a minor hurdle but she learned quickly. Kei took to learning sign language because it was international. Her travels just so happened to coincide with her stay in the U.K. and because coincidences are a real problem, so too did the world find out about the Others. She counts herself among them, being that she is one of them, but she hopes that this revelation can usher in peace between the two vastly different cultures.
Even Others know how to smile, after all.
| Family |
Kei considers everyone she's lived with to be her family, and that is far too long a list. But she remembers them all. Or...well...most of them.
| Strengths |
Never in a bad mood
A people person
Honest to a fault
| Weaknesses |
Naive, very much so
Easily swayed
Gets lost fairly frequently
The Other
| Theme Song |
Hurry Up! – noanowa
”Being alone makes me feel like I’m about to lose all the time
When I was sad, when I was happy,
you were by my side all the time
It was a miracle
The world I saw with you
It’s like soaring lightning in a storm
I wish tirelessly
for tomorrow to be a great day
For it to be a great day”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 7B or with anyone who lets her stay over
| Extra Information |
Negative |
1,057 | 14 | 72 | 2,015 | 780 | Nicodem Kaminski
Location: Leaving 14 Pratchett Road, Faircourt, travelling to the Edgetoun Police Station
Interacting With: Ryan
At Ryan's mention of running the precinct, Nicodem just cocked an eyebrow. They both knew that Nicodem ran the precinct almost as much as Ryan did some days, depending on which one of them was more deeply immersed in case work at the time. With the 'Low Key' case taking such prevalence in the commissioner's thoughts at the moment, his deputy had been handing out shift assignments, signing off on pay dockets and generally doing to more boring, administrative bits of the job for a couple of weeks. Still, it was good to hear him ask out loud, if only so they both knew where they stood.
Ryan's next statement was considerably less routine but somehow no less welcome. Nicodem had never made any attempt to hide his Vampiric nature from his housemate, having long suspected Ryan too was something other than human. They'd never discussed it though, Ryan never mentioning Ryan's rat hutch with accompanying syringe and Nicodem never asking how a normal human could survive on as little sleep as the commissioner seemed to. A silent, implicit agreement that the job came first, that everything else was secondary had always been present and, to be honest, Nicodem had never really thought further than that. It was... heartening to hear Ryan say, in effect, that he'd rather Nicodem left than be burned at the stake by the Helsing brigade. Not an open declaration of undying love (something neither of them were equipped to say or receive, even if they wanted to) but something you might say to a friend.
He looked into Ryan's eyes, the eyes he'd always thought looked far too old and tired for one so apparently young, and said "I hear you, I understand you, I thank you. But I don't see myself leaving Edgetoun at any time in the near future. This house, on the other hand, we should both leave if we want to be at the station in time."
It took only a couple of minutes for the two of them to gather up their coats, files and other things they'd need for the day before walking out to the attached garage. Neither man had ever spent the time or money necessary to legally own a car and so instead they'd found an alternative solution; they would borrow cars from the undercover department, use them for a few days and then return them before anyone important noticed. While it might not be strictly legal, the pair reasoned that if they couldn't get to work then they'd hardly be doing any good, so better this small infraction than not help anyone at all. It also meant that every few days they came home with a new flashy car, causing many of their neighbours to suspect them of everything from car thievery to corporate sponsorship.
The drive to the station was passed in silence, not least because Nicodem turned on the radio to an obscure Estonian Classical Music station and punched up the volume. Both men had much on their minds, the 'Low Key' Case, the Helsing incident and all its ramifications. It was going to be a long day. | Basic Information
| Name |
"Ramiel but you must call me Uncle Rammie, mon chéri."
Ramiel or Uncle Rammie, as he insists people call him.
| Date of Birth |
"Ah, too old for you my darling."
Who knows? Around the Boulangerie there are pictures of him from long, long ago that he doesn't talk about.
| Gender |
"Does it matter? I am who I am."
His true form is essentially a genderless spirit though his mortal body would traditionally be considered male.
| Sexuality |
"Why, are you looking for tips? Then you came to the right place!"
Asexual panromantic, not that you'd know it from his bawdy jokes, knowledgeable tips and general air of sexual confidence.
| Occupation |
"Working hard or hardly working, non?"
Owns and manages a boulangerie in Edgetoun called Heavenly Treats.
| In-Depth Appearance |
"Uncle Rammie keeps himself healthy, even amidst all this sugar, I'm sure you've noticed."
Clean cut features that settle easily into a grin or laugh suit Ramiel well, he's very pleased with his earthly form. So pleased that he makes sure to keep it fit and healthy though not always clean shaven. He's experimented with a pencil moustache and a roughish five o'clock shadow but always gravitates back to a smooth jaw line within a week or two. There's something about the honest appearance of being well shaved that appeals to Ramiel, he thinks it makes him look more approachable. For the same reason, he likes to wear glasses when reading, despite having extremely good eyesight, because it humanises him. He prefers to dress in clothes that are comfortable, well fitting and slightly revealing. Shirts with the top three buttons undone and well cut v-neck jumpers are two of his favourites. For colour, Ramiel likes starched light whites offset by blacks or pastel paint colours like chalky reds and cloudy blues. Cheerful colours that make you think of boating on the Thames in the sunshine on a summer afternoon.
Perhaps Ramiel's best tool for putting people at their ease is his voice. It's like syrup to the ear, sweet and soothing. His accent is almost aggressively French, h's disappearing and r's going on forever. Though he's technically not French, he's spent enough time in France and speaks the language fluently enough to not really see it as lying to pose as a Frenchman. To be fair, he doesn't actually tell people he's French, they just hear his accent, notice the French words he uses in regular conversation and see that he runs a boulangerie and make their own assumptions.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Caring ♦ Friendly ♦ Bawdy ♦ Nosey ♦
"I'm just a man, just a baker. Here, have a croissant."
If you come into Heavenly treats, the first thing that hits you is the delicious smell of baked goods. The second things is the riot of pastel colours, from the marigold floor to the rainbow hued pastries shelf. The third thing will be the boisterous, heavily accented voice calling "Bonjour! Welcome to Heavenly Treats! Are you here for sweet food or some naughty gossip because, darling, I have plenty of both!" And you have entered the world of Ramiel. He'll leave one of the young employees to work the till, sit you down, pour you some of his delicious coffee, put an eclair in front of you and draw out your deepest, darkest secrets with a knowing smile and a cheeky wink. And you'll tell him, because the longer you sit there and talk, the more you feel a warmth in your chest and a smile on your lips. So you'll throw your secrets into the deep well of Uncle Rammie's twinkling eyes and leave the boulangerie feeling like you're walking on clouds. He'll welcome the next person into the shop, do the same thing again and never tell the secrets entrusted to his care. Instead, he deals in gossip that doesn't matter to anyone (what Sharon is naming her new child, what Damien's new tattoo will say, whether Lucy will enter the talent show), trading silly jokes with leather wearing bikers and woollen clad grannies alike.
That's Ramiel, Archangel of hope. To him, there's nothing more important than listening to you talk yourself into a better mood and nothing more enjoyable than trading in trivial gossip. Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves, he says as he puts another delectable baking masterpiece in front of you. One might think he's given up on the great fight between good and evil but in fact he's decided to... creatively reinterpret his own role in the battle. He's seen the hope of millions crash and burn, the dreams of the people crush them and the heroes of the past become the twisted villains of history. So now he works on changing the little things and spreading hope on a personal level. Happy people make a happy world and lovely cakes make happy people, though he'll help with more than cakes and a shoulder to cry on. Ramiel has more than a few contacts, old friends who owe him a favour or two, who are happy to offer a job to anyone recommended by Ramiel. So if you need help not thinking dark thoughts or paying your rent, come and talk to Ramiel, knowing that the only price is that you do the same for someone else when he asks you to.
He doesn't just deal in your anxiety and woe, though. Did you forget your fiancé's birthday? Don't worry, Ramiel is waiting for you in the shop with their favourite cake in their favourite colour with a personal message from you to them in icing. He knows you'll do better next time and that the two of you will be very happy together. Did your class run late, your bus get delayed, your lunch not quite happen and you're late for your night job? Don't sweat it, he's got your favourite sandwich in a bag and refuses payment until you're back on your feet. He doesn't forget your birthday or wedding anniversary, he remembers your favourite food and drink, what days you tend to run late and forget to eat. He'll do his best to smooth over the crinkles in your life and shake it off with a grin and a wink.
| Likes & Dislikes |
"I like what any cultured person likes and dislike what every sensible world citizen dislikes."
✔ Good food, fine drink and lovely company.
✔ Gossip, the more trivial the better.
✔ Making people feel happy.
✔ Romantic comedies, the cheesier the better.
✔ Karaoke, though his singing voice is awful.
✔ Making people blush with his jokes.
✔ Anyone who can have a laugh.
✔ Puns, the more awful and corny the better.
✔ Cigarettes, for full the image of the French Man.
✘ Cheap, mass produced fast food.
✘ Action films, too loud and too boring.
✘ People who can't keep a secret.
✘ Angels that judge other angels.
✘ Humans that judge other humans.
✘ People that takes themselves too seriously.
✘ Cigars, eugh!
| History |
"I've been here and there, done this and that. Now enough about me, let's talk about you. How are you feeling?"
What is the history of any Archangel? Ramiel was put on the earth, along with his six siblings, to champion the cause of his virtue in the lives of mortals. Hope was Ramiel's cause, the light in the hearts of all men and women that helps them walk when tired, fight when weary and laugh when all is lost. And, in the name of the divine, Ramiel was the light of hope for many, many years. Hero, champion, leader, healer, Ramiel trained many of them to bring hope to the people and did his duty as he saw it for a long, long time. For the most part, he played the role of mentor and teacher, occasionally stepping into the limelight to play a small but pivotal role.
But things didn't seem to change. Heroes became villains, dreams became burdens and hope never seemed to prevail. History paints a sad picture of hope being the crutch of the desperate and the fantasies of the delusional and one day it got to Ramiel. The inherent hopelessness of his task bore down upon him and he teetered on the brink of falling. Some might consider that he did. To Ramiel, however, he merely choose a new approach to the mission. Rather than work at an international level where the consequences of failure are dire for millions, he chose to work at a personal level, bringing hope to one person at a time and sending them out into the world to spread it.
About ten years ago, he opened the Heavenly Treats boulangerie in Edgetoun's centre and has done a brisk trade in pastries, cakes, bread, gossip and hope since then. It has a high staff turnover as Ramiel deliberately employs ne'er do wells who have no job or prospects, taking them under his wing, training them up and then sending them on to higher paying positions in more central bakeries and restaurants. Is his method the most efficient way of pursuing his mission? Perhaps not but those people whose lives have been touched by his words can attest to its effectiveness.
| Family |
"Ah, you are are all my family, darlings! Everyone that comes in, for cake or for chatter, you are all part of my clan!"
Ramiel has six siblings, created at the same time as him and given their own missions. Two live in Edgetoun, a Police Commissioner and a record store owner. Apart from them, Ramiel has no children or significant others. As he says, he considers almost everyone he talks to a family member and genuinely tries to help each and every one of them.
| Strengths |
"As long as I've a cigarette in one hand, a glass of wine in the other and Cherry by my side, I'm as strong as I need to be!"
Charming, empathic and good at making you feel good.
Kind, likes nothing more than lightening another's load in whatever way he can.
World class chef, baker and listener.
| Weaknesses |
"I can resist anything. Except temptation!"
Apathetic about large scale, world changing events.
Doesn't really listen to people saying "No, I'm fine" or "I want to handle things myself".
Doesn't know how to deal with negative emotions, prefers to ignore them.
Finds it hard to accept thanks or payment.
The Other
| Theme Song |
Memories – Waldeck
”All those souvenirs in my memories
got me going down in strike
all those souvenirs in my memories
got me ruining my soul.”
| House Number |
"Are you going to come and visit me? Should I lock my doors and windows or leave them wide open?"
Probably somewhere in Faircourt.
| Extra Information |
"No, no, no! I'm the only one that gets to know all the juicy secrets! You've got this the wrong way round!"
Has excellent hearing and vision, good at picking up small details and things said under one's breath.
Loves a good French wine but will settle for an inferior nation's wine in a pinch.
Blake Preston
"Her blogging and youtubeing are very nice, I sometimes watch a video now and then. She's a little angry though, maybe she's frustrated? I will have to talk to her about it and see how she feels, maybe she needs a partner."
Hmmmm... Why not her roommate Eve? Yes, yes, she's a demon, I know, but she seems like a nice girl and she is French. I will talk to Blake and then maybe put a word in Eve's ear.
Daniel Belson
"Daniel and Ehtan, poor boys. Have they resolved their ‘confusion’ about the girl yet?”
Ethan helps Daniel, I believe, and the both of them help Aila.
Alistair Queen
"Ah, Alistair. He works hard and plays hard and who is to judge? The little girl, she has been a good influence on him, I think, and I imagine that another constant in his life might not go amiss either."
But who? Well, he seems fond of Loki but I'm not sure that he is a positive influence. If I am not mistaken and I rarely am, he and Nikita have done the deed once or twice but feel no particular fondness for each other. One to think about.
Mariska Costas
"Mariska seems to follow my own heart, the heart of hopeless romantic. Perhaps she would get on well with Elsie? Hmmm... I will talk them both."
Nymphs, what beautiful creatures! I remember other times when their songs were not such rarities. But that was yesteryear, we must concern ourselves with the now.
Nikita Yankovsky
”Apathy can be a sexy quality, ask all those mopey teenage pop-stars. It is not a healthy though and leads nowhere pleasant.“
I have no doubt she could be made to feel rather more content with her existence than she currently is but she would need to want it.
Mordred Hame
”I haven’t seen him around here recently, his loss.“
If he wants Uncle Rammie’s help, he’ll need to show his face now and then.
John Taylor
”Ah, John. A tragedy in motion, like a car hurtling towards a wall. I can help many people in many ways but I do not think I can help him, not yet.”
In fact, I think there’s only one way that anyone will be able to help him.
Eve Lumière
”Another citizen of the republic on this dreary little island? Hourra! True, she is a little bit too quick to make friends but I have never been one to judge too harshly. She is always welcome to my little corner of heaven.”
And she is so prolific in her work! Spreading the joy in her way might not get the divine seal of approval but it gets mine.
Catharine Reid
”She used to come in here all the time but I have not seen her in a while. Perhaps she moved?“
A shame, such a nice girl.
Opallum
”Such fire! A very hot individual, as I am want to point out now and then.“
Some demons try to hide their nature from mortals, especially before we ’others’ were outed but not this Ifrit, he’d prefer everyone see him sit in the cold of winter with not a visible sign of discomfort. At least he seems satisfied with his position, otherwise I might have to step in.
Andrew Mordekai
”Merde, I am sweating! I think we must find him a friend before I succumb to temptation!”
True to tell, it will take something more than a beautiful man to make me ‘fall’ but he is still beautiful. Fire in the heart, fire in the soul. I am sure there are many others who would appreciate such a man.
Suriel White
”Sometimes, I think that I am wasting my time with these delicious delicacies, you know? Mostly I feel that way after talking to Suriel. They work so hard and help so many people. I hope they know the work they do is so ”
“Some angels preach or overreach, but some are kind and humble
Forgive and forget they say, no matter the trip or stumble”
Miles Catrose
”Sometimes little people want to take up the whole world, because it’s that or be overlooked. Miles is a good boy who needs to be a little more sure and a little less insecure.”
Pixies are capricious and arrogant but good hearted. I am sure there’s someone around the place who could calm his temper a little. I should talk to him, I need a haircut…
Yukiko Abe
”What is the song, it goes “Heeey, foxy lady!” It’s funny, non?”
Well, I thought it was funny. Her kind are old and tricksy but not necessarily bad. I am sure she will be careful with her partners.
Mona
”Sad girl, I hope she finds herself. Or at least finds the way forward.”
Ghosts, poor creatures. Humans fear death so much that sometimes they opt out of the natural process, whether they meant to or not. If she comes to the shop, I will see what I can do for her but I’m not sure she will. Some people do not want to move on.
Faron Romane
”Sometimes it’s hard to escape from one’s parent’s shadows, I think. You should meet my parent one day. Or rather, you certainly will, eventually.“
People call him a fool or an idiot and I wonder whether some parts of him believe them. I am glad he has moved out into independence but perhaps he needs someone to build his self confidence.
Nicolas Black
”It is traditional for a Frenchman to object to the police on principle, particularly one with no discretion and a suspicious nose.“
He wishes to do good, I think, and how can I object to that? He has the look of a man with bad things in his past, things that are yet to leave him alone. Unfortunately he’s also one of those people who would rather suffer quietly than find a therapist. I must think on this.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
”I had a friend named Fiacre who loved plants very much, a long time ago now. He taught me a few little tips, small things he passed on to me which maybe I should pass on to her.“
Witches are like brandies; some are good, some are bad but they all pack a punch! That said, Maggie seems like she cares about doing the right thing and working hard.
Megumi
”A charming young lady with excellent manners. I find children who shriek and scream for cakes very annoying, none of that from her.”
But then, most children have not been children for as long as her, have they? I am glad she has found Mister Queen, they will be good for each other.
Stefani Roche
”A sweet child but a little moody, non? Ah, teenagers, we all remember those days, non?“
Another young vampire? Sad creatures in many ways, because they age but do not grow, get old but can not mature. I am glad both her and Megumi have found friends and carers though.
Ari Amari
”You know, I don’t like cats very much. They hunt for fun and sleep when they could be working. Why not get a dog? They’re hard workers and don’t kill for enjoyment.“
I did not think there were any Sphinxes left and I can not say I am particularly pleased to be mistaken. Many a stupid traveller was picked from the teeth of a sphinx in the old days. Still, he seems to have turned over a new leaf here. Let us hope it is sincere.
Katharine Haynes
”A charming young lady but I haven’t seen her in my shop recently.“
Does she still live here?
Felix Underwood
”Librarians are important, a society without librarians is just a group of people with no idea where to file things.”
Talking to the dead is… complicated. Some of my fellow angels do not like it, they see it as disturbing those who have earned their rest. And while I see why they might think that, it gives hope to those who can talk to their loved ones. And who am I to stand in the way of that?
Elise Callaghan
”Quiet people, I know I should not resent them but I always feel like they’re ignoring me. Me!”
Sirens, the call on the dark sea that drags you down and down. I had never heard of one that doesn’t sing, until now. One to watch, I believe.
Claire O'Malley
”I don’t know much about her, perhaps she doesn’t know much about herself?“
We’ll see if she drops into the shop at some point.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
”Working with children is a noble calling. You build tomorrow by crafting the future’s builders.“
Like myself, Barachiel continues to fight the good fight but has put down the flaming sword.
Ethan Cooper
”Ouff! What a beefcake! I wonder if he has a sweet tooth…”
Lives with a demon and a werewolf but knows neither of their natures? He’s either dense or kindly doesn’t pry. Either way, I imagine he is a positive influence on both of them.
Alfie Liau
”My only rival in the field of sweet treats for the people of Edgetoun! I shall have the better of him yet!“
He seems to be a good sort, I hope he continues to enjoy chocolate more than blood.
Astrid Kitchener
”Artists, they work much better when they have little to eat!“
She seems more accepting of ‘others’ than her father, as always seems to be the way. Generations upon generations, each one struggling to try and make the next accept their ideals. She is a hopeful step, however.
Michael Harel
”A handsome man, non? Well be careful what you say about him, he’s my… he’s an old friend.“
Brother, we are more alike now than ever before. I wonder how the one above thinks of us, working down here in the squalor of humanity. I hope he understands why, if he even thinks about us at all.
Aila Atleo
”A lovely girl, she buys her bread from me and laughs at my jokes! And as we all know, that’s all you have to do to make Rammie your friend for ever.“
Her past is fraught and fractured but she seems to be happy here. A job, friends and two almost fathers. Let us hope things stay that way.
Emerson Maddox
”Lawyers, pah! If they are defending you, you’d better hope you paid them more than the prosecution did.“
He seems arrogant and sharp tongued, two qualities I can’t stand. I do hope he comes into the shop one day, so I can find out a little more about him.
Talia Halbrook
”I haven’t seen her around for a while, I wonder how she is.“
Demons, they seem to be everywhere these days.
Loki Van Stenberg
”A handsome man and we all like having those around, do we not? I am not sure he is one half so pretty under the surface.“
In fact, I am certain he is not. Were I forced to guess, I would hazard he lives off others in more ways than drinking blood, probably through theft or other criminal activities. Vampires, too many of them are the monsters from the night to remember those who aren’t.
Freddie Hughes-Jackson
”We all like books but people can give conversation too! I think young Freddie forgets that sometimes.“
A good boy who studies hard and wants nothing more than to be left alone to do his magic, what could be better than that? Of course, I still like making him blush when he comes in for a little treat.
Liam Woodsworth
”Another child with apathy issues, another day.“
Dhampires, yet more victims of the plague of vampirism.
Aiden Phillips
”A pretty boy, he can take my temperature whenever he wants!”
Another vampire, though this one seems a little different to Queen and Stenberg. He has a secret, that much I’m sure of, but I doubt it is a dark one.
Ryan Croft
”Ah, our hard working police commissioner! I’ll stand him a drink of coffee and doughnut whenever he comes this way.”
I think the end may be coming, the reckoning might be on the horizon. And when the rapture comes, I wonder if we will stand together or apart, brother. Justice and vengeance, rarely do they inspire hope.
Eternity Illuria Loveless
”What does she do? Night crawling? I think we are thinking of different things when you say that, mon ami.”
Fae, I cannot say I like them. They are outside of the jurisdiction of Heaven and have no interest in the morality of humanity.
Patrick Kershner
”In every group, there’s the one who’s quiet because they know what happens when they open their mouths, sadly.”
And in every pack, there’s a runt. At least he is now part of two packs, the wolves and the police. And the latter seem a little more ardent in protecting their members.
Nicodem Kaminski
”What a face, what a voice! I’ve clearly got a challenger for Edgetoun’s most attractively exotic older man.”
A vampire that files down his fangs and is accepted by Raguel is more than a curiosity, he is a minor miracle. One to watch indeed.
Anastasia Psomas
”She looks like she certainly needs a good night’s sleep and a healthy meal.”
Phoenixes, tragic beings. They burn on and on, no end in sight and no respite on the horizon.
James Bright
”He doesn’t come over to the shop anymore. A shame, I was considering employing him.”
I hope he finds his killer and his peace, he deserves it.
Naomi Ishiguro
”A little strange, non? You don’t feel quite safe near her? There’s a reason for that.”
Were I a younger being, still full of wrath and righteous fury, I would fall upon her with Heaven’s own might. Now… I only hope to steer her prey away from her.
”Kei”
”Happiness is good, whatever the source. It’s net gain for the world, I think.”
Happy fae are not always happy because something good has happened, however.
Zoey Alston
”How many bartenders can Edgetoun possibly need?”
And how many witches? I hope there’s not some sort of occult or alcoholic conspiracy going. |
1,058 | 14 | 73 | 1,390 | 1,432 | Location: 25B Faraday Heights
Interacting With: Felix
Mona blinked, then grinned wildly, ”Can you do that? Oh, my gosh! Do you know how great it would be to not be ignored by all those humans out there?” She floated close to Felix, circling around and around the medium with a look so real and so bright that it couldn’t possibly belong to her. It was so easy to smile like that around the medium, so simple. Just a twitch of the lips and a single thought of happiness. Mona didn’t quite understand love, platonic or not, in real life as easily as she did in the soaps she often frequents. The people on TV are always grinning at their friends and lovers. Emotional, was the word she would mutter when they laughed or cried. Those actors knew how to relay such things even to someone as mindless as Mona. They’re always happy, always sad, always something. Mona wasn’t always something.
Sometimes she was simply nothing.
Her smile faltered at the thought, then picked back up as she kicked towards the window and leaned (to the best of her ghostly ability) against the windowsill. Her eyes traced the clouds, endless gray and black, and her ears keened to the sound of bustling wind and an apartment close by that seemed to be blasting rock music. The thumping bass and whistling notes of the wind were so dissonant together, so lacking in purpose and beauty. Mona adored it. Her forehead pressed against the window, felt nothing, and pressed further until she was basically hanging out of the apartment. Small dots of white dropped through her, and the smile turned into a cheesy grin.
”I think I see some flurries already, Felix! Oh gosh, oh gosh!” Snow drifted by, falling away from her as if she almost existed. But she didn’t, she couldn’t feel the chill of the loud wind more the brush of wetness from the flakes. She was as dissonant to the world as the wind and bass were to each other. A splotch of lifeless color to an otherwise living, breathing land.
She pushed back into the living room and turned back towards the witch. Ah, Felix. The other girl was much taller than the ghost, boasting seven inches up over her when Mona felt like connecting to the ground. The height difference made Mona feel a bit squirmy for some reason, a bit thoughtful over her own stance, and she straightened her hunched back nonchalantly as she lifted a good five or six inches off the floor. Another smile, small and dreamy, pressed against her lips. ”Do that hocus pocus bullshit on me, I wanna enjoy the day like a normal person for once~!” She purred merrily, drifting closer and closer to the witch until she was able to glower down at Felix a bit too coy-like. | rudy will be placed here too when finished
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| 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. |
1,059 | 14 | 74 | 1,621 | 202 | Claire
(The Early Bean)
Interacting with: Miles Barachiel Talia
Just as she joined the group, one of the men left. Apparently, he had to get to work, where he was a hairdresser or something similar. Fine with her. "Goodbye, then."
She turned to the others, realizing that she hadn't introduced herself. "I'm Claire O'Malley. It's a pleasure to meet both of you." Obviously, she wasn't going to reveal the fact that she was a summoner, especially in this climate. No need to tempt anyone into getting the torches and pitchforks out. | | 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?
| 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).
| 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.”)
| 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.
| 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.
| 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”
| House Number |
Churchill Gardens, 3B
| Extra Information |
- |
1,060 | 14 | 75 | 2,173 | 2,274 | Suriel
Location: Leaving Edgetoun Memorial Hospital, heading to Churchhill Gardens, Apt 2A
Interacting With: Alison and mentions of Barachiel
”Morning.” the nurse said quietly in greeting. It was now well into the afternoon, but Suriel wasn’t about to correct her. Instead, the angel turned to smile in return. Seeing that Alison was in nothing but her unmentionables, Suriel quickly looked back into their locker. It was too late though, their mind went there. The sharp pain in between their shoulder blades functioned like a warning bell. This sin would darken yet another feather… how much longer could this doctor remain white?
”Hope your shift went well, I’m running late though so we’ll catch up soon, yeah?” Alison said, sounding much closer now than she was before. Suriel turned and prayed, actually prayed, that she would be wearing scrubs this time. She was. So, God was still listening; That’s a good sign.
”It did! Thank you for the well wishes, I hope your shift is much of the same.” Suriel said with a beaming, warm smile before closing the locker and heading for the exit.
The news reports weren’t lying, it was a tundra outside. Suriel buried their chin into their neck in an attempt to duck away from the blustering winds. Otherwise perfectly styled platinum strands of hair were sent into utter disarray upon leaving the hospital. It didn’t help that their hair was getting longer and would need a cut soon.
Suriel took the tube home after a painful wait in the cold. Doctor or not, they didn’t have much money for a car or the like. Being a resident hardly paid well, and what excess the angel did have, they gave away to charity. It was better this way, to live simply, it functioned as a means to keep focused on the end goal.
The apartment was dark and quiet upon their arrival. Barachiel, or Barry, as Suriel sometimes called them, must be out at the moment. Setting their keys on the counter, Suriel decided they would enjoy the peaceful solitude with a hot cup of tea and whatever makeshift meal they could put together quickly.
Loki
Location: Early Bean
Interacting With: Present in the same place as Barachiel Talia and Claire
Once the faerie and his rather distracting scent took their leave, Loki staked a claim at one of the only free spaces left in the cafe. He took the cap off of the cup of tea after setting it down on the table and steam billowed off of the liquid’s surface. Hopefully it would be safe to drink sometime this century, that seemed doubtful, though.
Loki sat his leather messenger bag on the table next and then took a seat. He opened the bag and retrieved a shiny black laptop. Loki took to people watching briefly while the machine booted up, which didn’t take all that long. He wouldn’t head into the lab today, but he could still get a decent amount of research done right here in the Early Bean. Wifi, what a glorious invention!
The hangover headache still pounded in the vampire’s ears, but the show must go on, as they say. If there was ever a person who epitomized the “work hard, play hard” motto, it was Loki Van Stenberg. He pinched the bridge of his nose as his eyes swept across the computer screen. Minutes, maybe even hours, had passed by as he scanned countless articles, studies, and publications. Loki took to studiously writing down notes about the findings and test methods used in the most interesting reports. His head swam with ideas on how to change his own procedures… the RNA modification was simply not going the way he intended it too.
Loki let out a deep exhale and rubbed the stubble that had already started to form on his chin since shaving this morning. There was no use reading the same paragraph for a third time, so he went back to people watching. With his elbows propped on the table and his hands folded together just under his chin, Loki played a little game of ‘guess the supernatural’ for each person in the cafe. That is when the idea struck him, and what a glorious idea it was!
A wide smirk spread across the vampires lips. With Loki, it was always closed mouth smiles and deviously charming smirks, toothy smiles were reserved for those that knew he was a vampire. You can never be too careful, racist bastards are everywhere, and Loki preferred not to deal with them publically. That could get… messy. Nevertheless, creepy smirk and all, Loki unfolded his hands and retrieved his mobile - this one being his actual mobile, not a burner phone for the business. He dialed a number and the recipient picked up after the first ring.
”Charles! Call in the full crew to ensure that the estate is in top notch condition for this weekend. I had the most grand idea and I know, I knoowwww it’s short notice, but just trust me, this is going to be fan-tas-tic!” Loki emphasized each syllable into the receiver with signature dramatic flair. | Loki
Vampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Loki Van Stenberg
The former name he was born with, kind of, the latter was chosen most recently because he liked the dramatic flair. He moves around a lot, mostly keeping to Europe, and changes his name with every move.
Aliases/Nicknames include: Low Key, Kingpin, and the Trickster
| Date of Birth |
Born to a Vikingar couple in the Summer of 830, give or take a few decades. His most current falsified documentation lists July 13th, 1992, though.
| Gender |
Male
| Sexuality |
Primarily heterosexual, though living as long as he has, he’s dabbled elsewhere to spice things up.
| Occupation |
Legal Profession? He is a Senior Chemist at the research lab in Redbridge, earned a bonafide PhD and everything! He has a passion for the sciences. Having a well-paying job like this makes for a good cover on how he really got the fancy cars and mansion up on Avalon Point.
Real Profession? Loki runs the London underground. Narcotics, hallucinogens, uppers, downers, you name it! If it exists, Low Key has a man running the stuff on the streets. And the Kingpin doesn’t just cater to the humans, hell no, he’s got the stuff to get the Sups just as fucked up. He has just plain ol’ blood too, for those too morally weak to do their own hunting, but willing enough to look the other way on how said blood was obtained in the first place. Loki’s real pride and joy, though, is O-neg. Being a vampire scientist with unlimited access to state-of-the-art laboratory equipment, Loki figured out a way to genetically and chemically alter human blood so that it gives vampires the effect of being high - a previously unattainable state for vampires, aside from the very mild effects one could gain from tainted blood. Pressed into tiny red tablets emblazoned with an ‘O’, O-neg does different things for different vamps; For some it feels like ecstasy, some just pot, and some experience hallucinations like with acid. O-neg could take you all the way up to the clouds, and then promptly let you crash through the floorboards. It’s the real deal, and when you’re working with vampire lifespans and immunities, what the hell else do you have to do with your time? Come on, you know you want to try it...
| In-Depth Appearance |
Devilishly handsome, is that enough? No? Okay then. With soulful blue eyes and a tidy crop of chestnut curls, one might almost be convinced that Loki is innocent. But that ever present five o’clock shadow and crooked smirk betray that he is up to absolutely no good, just like the god he was named for. He stands at 5’11” with a toned and muscular build, but not overly so.
Appearances are of utmost importance to the viking - old habits die hard, I guess - and as such, he is hardly ever seen without at least a two piece suit, or a lab coat, if he’s working. Scars? Aye, he got a few of them raiding and trading his way across the Scandinavian homelands back in his human years, but most are easily hidden by his apparel.
Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Flirtatious ♦ Manipulative ♦ Logical ♦ Hot-headed ♦
Loki is double-edged sword, simply put. Listening to him talk is easy, a trait that made him a good college professor in his past lives. He is very intelligent and tells some of the best stories you’ve ever heard - who knows how true some of them are, though. And, hell, he could charm the pants off of just about anyone; Can, and has, most likely. Even with boatloads of charisma, he can be quite the egotistical dick sometimes. It is glaringly obvious that his own favorite person is, indeed, himself. And though vikings are known for having treated most people relatively equally long before it was the popular opinion, Loki can come off as a bit of a chauvinist. But hey, nobody’s perfect, and that’s something the Trickster never strived to be. If you can sand down those abrasive, crusty edges, you’ll find a real softy inside Loki. He just wants what everyone else wants: to have people truly care about him.
| Likes & Dislikes |
✔A thick, hoppy brew
✔Having drinks with his best mates
✔Getting high, but only occasionally
✔Living in luxury
✔Blondes
✔Gingers too
✔Learning other languages
✔Calling women luv and doll, regardless of how well he knows them
✔Himself
✘Mead, Drink of the Gods or not, the shit tastes like candied piss
✘The French… no real reason why there
✘Unkempt people
✘Religion, as a vampire and as a scientist
✘The telly
✘People who can’t keep secrets
✘Humans, most of the time
✘That hideous mockery Marvel has made of his namesake
| History |
This section could go on for pages, but brevity is in fact the soul of wit. Flóki Björnsson was born to a jarl and his wife in 9th century in the lands now known as Sweden. Growing up in the Vikingar lifestyle was as much as one might expect: tough, violent, bloody, but also noble, adventurous, and enriching. Vikingar ideals make up a lot of who Loki is today, and don’t believe all the clichés and stereotypes you hear about the Vikings, they aren’t the savages history books paint them to be. Flóki’s human life ended in a brutal battle across the sea in what is now Poland. It was a warriors death that would make his father proud, and earn his place in the halls of Valhalla, or Fólkvangr, he wasn’t picky. At least, that wouldn’t have been the case, if he hadn’t woken up after, bloodied in a field among his fallen brothers and sisters with a burning thirst in his throat unlike any he’d ever known. Naturally, he went on to murder the nearest living, breathing thing… or ten. And the rest, they say, is history!
In modern times, Loki makes his mark by finding new ways to turn heads in different locations around the world. Every few years, mostly when people might start to question why he isn’t aging, Loki moves and takes on a new name and identity. He takes his business and the money it makes with him, of course, and though his legal surname changes, his aliases remain, as does his first name. Low Key is not fond of the mass outing of the supernaturals, preferring to keep his nature like his business, underground. Nothing good can come of the humans knowing about the Others, not that he feared them. No, they were a fickle race that was likely to bring about their own demise just to get there point across… and that would make finding a good meal a hell of a lot harder.
| Family |
Jarl Björn, father, died in battle.
Jarl Ragna, mother, died shortly after, giving birth to Loki’s sister.
Frida Björnsson, sister, unknown…
| Strengths |
The quintessential businessman
Quick thinker, and often correct in that thinking
With age comes wisdom
| Weaknesses |
Flounders when not in absolute control of a situation.
Acute paranoia, well, maybe not so acute.
Prone to violent outbursts when pushed too far.
The Other
| Theme Songs |
The Dope Show – Marilyn Manson
”The drugs they say make us feel so hollow
We love in vain, narcissistic and so shallow
…
There's a lot of pretty, pretty ones
That want to get you high
But all the pretty, pretty ones
Will leave you low and blow your mind”
| House Number |
36 Avalon Point
| Extra Information |
Want to know more? I guess you have to come figure that out.
Loki Van Stenberg
Blake Preston
"Ahh, the Youtuber. I suppose it’s a good a way as any for a pretty girl to make a penny."
I like blondes, but tend to keep away from the human ones… especially when they can’t keep their noses out of business that clearly isn’t any of theirs. Her interest are apt to get killed one day, not that I care.
Daniel Belson
"Now this one is a real master of his craft. I’ve spent many a night with my mates whilst he tended bar."
Seems like a decent bloke. I don’t know him well, but I’ve always enjoyed the company of demons. Plus, I think he’s one of the few men in this city that could match me in a drinking contest.
Alistair Queen
"What good is a King without a Queen?"
Handsome, well-dressed, ambitious… hell, it’s basically like looking in a mirror. What can I say? He’s my best mate, and has been for a few lifetimes. He runs things above ground while I, well, he’s the only one outside of my force that knows what I really do.
Mariska Costas
"Does someone smell… fish?"
Jokes aside, I don’t have much to say about this one. She has a nice enough voice, good background music when drinkin’ at the pub.
Nikita Yankovsky
"Wonder why she traded in the fuzzy cuffs for real ones..."
Yeah, I don’t like cops. Three guesses as to why. She seems like one of the better ones though, probably smokes pot on her days off. While she isn’t really my type, I’d be up for a little roleplay session. “I’ve been a real bad boy, Officer!”
Mordred Hame
"Great talent, but what is with that hair?"
Another demon, yeah, this city is crawling with them - most are, what better places to rustle up some chaos? Viking Metal is my genre of choice, naturally, and Cloak of Shame is among the best metal bands London has to offer.
John Taylor
"Again with the hair, I don’t get it."
He did my latest tattoo, the eagle on my shoulder here. Great work, in all honesty. I’ll definitely be going back to him for my next piece.
Eve Lumière
"Uggh, the French. Don’t get me started."
That accent almost makes the drinks taste bad. Drop dead gorgeous though, so it’s always worth the visit. I wonder what she’s like in bed, hopefully quiet.
Catharine Reid
"Girl knows how to run a business, I can appreciate that."
The vampires in this city pretty much all know of each other. I like her spicy personality, should get to know her even better. I’m sure we’d be chums in no time.
Opallum
"Untapped potential, what a shame."
I’ve had my eye on this one. Many of my men went from rags to riches under my employ. Hopefully he’ll accept my offer, I always have use for a man who knows his way around the streets. Plus, I know he has junkie friends.
Andrew Mordekai
"He makes a real strong, HOT cuppa!"
Blood, Booze, and Tea. Those are the beverages of choice listed in order of importance. Mr. Mordekai makes takes care of the third every morning before I head to the lab. The real lab, in Redbridge. Just to clarify...
Suriel White
"What the fuck is that?"
Listen, I’m all for doing whoever you please. But the kids these days with their LGBTXYZ alphabet-soup personalities! Honestly, is that a man? A woman? Don’t confuse me like that, mate! I don’t want to have to guess about what’s in your trousers...
Miles Catrose
"He’s a local hairstylist. He gave me a cut once, I won’t be hurrying back any time soon."
Not because he wasn’t good, no. Faeries just smell like pudding. Delicious… irresistible pudding. I’m glad I didn’t fang out and devour him then, that would have totally blown my cover. I’m not looking to pack up and change my name again, London suits me. I keep my distance from this kid for both our sakes, even though one of my men is his dealer.
Yukiko Abe
"I saw her at the shop where I got my ink. She’s one of the other artists… I think she owns the place too."
That isn’t all I know about her. Alistair told me about her. She is playing Mum to London’s Youngest Vampiress. Too cute.
Mona
"Looks… familiar."
Though, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this one.
Faron Romane
"That shop he works at screams witchcraft, I’m surprised the bigots haven’t torched it."
Pothead kids are a dime a dozen around here, but I can’t complain. Business such as his pays from my morning cuppa from Andrew, every little bit counts!
Nicolas Black
"Good Afternoon, Detective Black." *cue devilish smirk*
A cop and a werewolf. I’ll keep my distance, wouldn’t want him shedding on my new Kiton… or sniffing about my rear.
Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"She works at the plant nursery where I bought those succulents over there." *gestures to cacti*
I don’t know much else about her. Smells human, but possibly a witch. You get a keen eye for picking things like that out when you’re this old.
Megumi
"That’s Ali’s ward… Kids aren’t really my thing."
That’s a lie. I think she’s adorable… but definately creepy. It’s hard to believe that she’s as old as she is, with the bouncing around and primary school bit. She definitely livens up Alistair’s cliché abode, though… well, I’m not sure livens up is the right phrase, given that neither of them are really alive.
Stefani Roche
"Looks familiar… ahh, yes! She was the receptionist at the tattoo parlor."
There she is, London’s Youngest Vampiress. Pretty as a peach, she is. Alistair gave her a few pointers on “Vamp life”. I wouldn’t mind giving her a pointer or two myself. In due time...
Ari Amari
"Ari’s another close mate of mine."
I met the Sphinx when he moved in a few blocks down. He’s one of my best paying customers, though he doesn’t know that he is essentially buying the stuff from me. What can I say? Anonymity is everything to me and, though he’s always fun to party with, I don’t know that I can trust him just yet - especially if the blimey bastard think the Egyptian gods are better than the Norse, that’s some fine coke yer snortin’, mate!
Katharine Haynes
"Hmmm..."
Is that the girl who works with Andrew? Or is she from the other shop… I can’t remember.
Felix Underwood
"I’ve seen her at the library on occasion."
Judging from the pentagram jewelry and thick cloud of incense about her, I’m pegging this one as a witch too. That, or she’s a human wannabe witch. I don’t know what would be worse...
Elise Callaghan
*Hums one of her compositions*
What can I say? Classical music is the only vampire cliché I indulge. Okay… maybe it’s not the only one. That’s, that’s beside the point! She’s lovely. A bit curious that she doesn’t speak, what’s that about? Maybe it’s just part of her stage persona...
Claire O'Malley
"This one is Irish, I’m guessing."
I don’t know her well, I’ve just seen her and all her freckles at the grocery store once or twice.
Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Ugh, what an awful suit… he must have gotten it from a charity bin."
I don’t know him other otherwise. Gods, man, were you even trying to look good?
Ethan Cooper
"..."
This stranger is surprisingly attractive.
Alfie Liau
"Oh, Alfie! I like Alfie."
Some vampires are just a hoot to be around, and he’s one of them. I’ve never seen him mope about what he is, unlike most ‘monsters’, and I adore his “grab life by the balls” attitude. I’m glad we’re neighbors, and friends.
Astrid Kitchener
"She works at that bistro nearby."
I’d rather make a meal of her than be served one by her. Very pretty girl, woefully human.
Michael Elior Harel
"Stopped in his Record shop once before… piss poor selection."
That’s not true. I’m just not a fan of “God’s warriors”. I miss the days of old, when the gods displayed their power and might by walking among men. Angels are nothing but egotistical pricks.
Aila Atleo
"I don’t know her, sorry."
What? I’m not lying, I really don’t know her. Should I?
Emerson Maddox
"Can’t trust a lawyer...."
He’s too young and far too cocky to be a good lawyer. And no, I’m not anti-lawyer by any means. In my line of work, you need to have a few friends that know their way through and around the law. How do you think I get my fake papers every few years? Maybe if I get arrested locally and need help in a pinch - which could happen, admittedly - I’ll use my phone call to ring him. How could you not remember that number, what with the annoying jingle the telly plays on his commercial… all the more reason to not watch the telly.
Talia Halbrook
"That’s the doll that sold me this lovely home."
She’s easy on the eyes, too bad she’s not a lust demon.
Liam Woodsworth
"What a life? Yes, that was sarcasm."
I can't pretend to know what it's like do be a Dhampire. It seems gods awful, I can't believe Ali managed to bring kids like him into the world. Weak, sickly creatures... I hope I haven't made any! Shit... I should be more careful. Anyway, there are those who know how to party, and those who take it too far. I'm sure you can guess where this bloke falls on that spectrum.
Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson.
"He's new in town, works at the same library as that bird we talked about earlier."
Freddie may be the only witch in town that I don't mind. I've only chatted him up a time or two, but he doesn't seem as flippant as some of the other witches, and I can tell he's a good study. Despite all it's fantastical mysticism, magic is a science that deserves just as much study, dedication, and practice as any other. It's never a bad idea to have at least one witch in per city on my side, he just might shape up to be my London Witch.
Ryan Croft
"Those glasses are... what's the word for that style? Hipster? Yeah, I think that's it."
Head of the five-0 and an angel? He just might be the worst bloke in this city. I'll pass on any false pleasantries here. It's best that he doesn't ever see my face... something tells me he'd just know if he did. Too risky.
Aiden Lewis Phillips
"He's hit on me at the pub before, along with practically everyone else there."
Aiden's a nice enough bloke. Pretty young for a vampire, but has a brilliant mind. It's nice to be able to hold an intelligent, scientific conversaion with him. We aren't best mates by any means, but we've only just met.
Eternity Loveless
"Hmmm. Can I keep this picture?" *smirks*
Never met her, but I'm really hoping that changes. Love the hair.
Patrick Kershner
"You know how you can sometimes tell what a person is like just by looking at them? Well... he looks boring."
He's also another werewolf on the police force. Why the hell do I like living here again? I guess this is one way to make eternity pass by in an interesting manner...
Nicodem Kaminski
"Oh, Nic... I don't think he likes me much."
Yeah, we met quite a few years back. We played a game of poker and I made out with a good sum of his money. He didn't take too kindly to that. Now he's a police commissioner where I currently live. Whoops?
Anastasia 'Alison' Psomas
"Is that the best photo you could get of her? She looks... tired."
But that's just my shallow first impression, I don't know this girl. Maybe she's a dhampire? She kinda has that 'run ragged' look going on. Or maybe she's a junkie...
James Bright
"Looks like he's just a high school kid."
I've never seen him around before. |
1,061 | 14 | 76 | 2,699 | 1,255 | Ryan & Aila
Location: Station
Interacting With: Nicodem Kaminski,
Ryan drove calmly down the snowy roads. Maneuvering in order to adjust for the lack of traction on his tires as his partner placed a hand on the dial and slowly cranked the music he was listening to up. Ryan attempted to clear his mind from the many cases, files and other important documents that surrounded his consciousness as he attempted to focus on the road. He quietly grunted, noticing that the brakes weren’t as stiff as they usually were causing a slightly less bumpy ride than he was used to. He drove by Faraday Heights noting that it was a rather centric place to live, both the school and the station were close to the apartment building along with a few bars and some old run down record store.
Ryan pulled into the parking lot slowly noticing Aila was walking towards the station just behind them. He noted her and waved with one hand as he reached into the back seat in order to grab his suitcase and got out of the car, nodding at Nico to do the same.
“Ms. Atleo, how have you been?” Ryan said nodding towards the secretary.
“Oh jeez, hey Chief I’m alright.” Aila said gently smiling, noticing how cold the corners of her mouth and her ears were when she did so. “I haven’t got in yet, but I know that you’re going to be pretty busy today.” She said rubbing her hands together and blowing between them in order to warm them.
“With all this Helsing business I’m sure tons of people will be coming in today.” Ryan said nodding with the secretary. “I need to speak to you with Mr. Kaminski here, so if you could meet me in my office once your set up this morning I’d appreciate it.” Ryan said nodding to the girl as he turned to Nico and gave him a part on the shoulder – walking towards the station with a patient smile.
It was here that he had spent so many nights already, trying to clean up the messes of those who had made them. Ah well, the coffee was pretty alright and there could be far worse ways to spend one’s days. At least this way he felt some amount of fulfillment while living his day to day life.
Aila turned to the co-commissioner and smiled. “It’s nice to see you looking so well rested, especially compared to the chief.” She said jokingly pointing at Ryan. The two of them walked towards the station. “I’ll be in the office soon, I just gotta check messages and all that.” | Eve Lumière.
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.
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.
| 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
| 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.
| 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.”
| 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
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 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."
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’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."
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."
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. "
#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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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. "
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."
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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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 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."
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."
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."
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."
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?"
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."
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."
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."
The record store is a nice cozy little place. He does pretty well there apparently.
Aila Atleo
"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."
Seriously rent ain’t paying itself. Tips have been a bit slower recently too.
Talia Halbrook
"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."
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."
I like to fluster him, it gives me a little satisfaction. Still got it Eve.
Liam Woodsworth
"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."
Mmm doctors…
Ryan Croft
"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."
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."
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."
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. |
1,062 | 15 | 0 | 175 | 3,688 | Loguetown, the first step for many to the Grand Line and where the previous pirate king, Gol D Rodger, met his end at the gallows. Being so close to the Grand Line, Loguetown is noted to have more than just humans walking about.
"Hm... Lots of marines here. Oh well, they don't know me yet at least." Light said, looking over the crowd she was in. Being a fishman, Light was a bit odd amongst humans, but unlike other fishman, she is often seen as cute and thus humans had very mixed reactions looking at her. Her devil fruit power probably went a long ways to helping with this, as it gave her a bit more of a cartoony and less detailed look.
Staying away from main street, but still staying near the shops and bars, Light was on the hunt for things to begin her travel on the Grand Line, and maybe some recruits. While she hadn't made too much of a name for herself yet with the marines, the couple fights she had been in were notable, and if the marine captain she had beaten hadn't lost his lower jaw, the marines would probably be more alert.
"Where is that blind lady? Hope they're having better luck at this than I am. I can only guess at what we need." Light said to herself, looking over some ship materials, making note of what to come back and grab when she was ready to set sail. | - Name: Light
- Age: 24
- Gender: Female
- Race: Axolotl/Angelfish Fishman
- Picture or Description: Cute humanoid shape, Pure White skin, Light blue short hair, large ball-like head with no nose and veyr large black and orange eyes, large fin-like ears. Skinny neck, Broad chest/shoulders with basic hourglass shaped body and proportionate body features, Light blue dress-like apparel that has a W cut in the front to reveal her legs. Pointed legs with no feet. 4 fingered hands with fingers that end in points.
- Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other: Crew Member
- Crew Position: Captain
- Techniques/Fighting Style:
Light relies on basic street fighting for her style of combat, either using the environment or her strength to defeat a foe.
Fruit (If applicable):
- ACME ACME fruit
- This devil fruit gives Light the power of a cartoon. This gives her numerous advantages and disadvantages in and out of combat.
1. Toon Physics
- Light's physics are much different than what reality should allow. She can regenerate from anything that isn't atomization, and can even regenerate from supernatural afflictions such as having her soul ripped out, being turned into a toy, memory loss, poisons, and what have you.
- The downsides are that attacks affect her differently, causing strange effects, and sometimes even a weak attack can incapacitate her for a time. For example, a sword slash that wouldn't normally go through a person might cut her in half, causing her to either have to peie herself back together, or causing both halves to fight separately until she notices she was cut. Being st on fire will turn her into a pile of ash with eyeballs fairly quickly if not put out, and all other matters of Tex Avery cartoony antics. Large forces of Blunt Truama are very useful in this matter. Light can also be knocked out if enough damage is done to her in a short amount of time, and can take a bit before shes ready to fight again depending on how much damage was done and how.
- Her movements are rubbery, making her attacks and movement fairly sluggish, but also difficult to read.
- When walking off of a steep drop, If Light is unaware that she has walked off a cliff, she will float or walk in the air until she realizes she has walked off said cliff, in which case she'll fall like anyone else would.
- Light can't bleed and can reattach body parts very easily if they're chopped off.
2. Reality Siphon
- Light passively siphons and warps reality on anything she touches. This effect is much more pronounced in inanimate objects, and will cause said objects to eventually turn 'cartoony' before they fade from reality altogether. Organic objects lose reality much slower than inanimate objects, and when they turn cartoony, they will turn cartoony all at once instead of in pieces like inanimate objects. Objects with more mass than Light take an extremely long amount of time to lose their reality, and only lose it in chunks equal to Light's mass.
- Objects may regain their reality and turn back to normal if they haven't faded from it altogether if they don't touch Light for an extended period of time. Inanimate objects can take anywhere between 1 hour and 3 days to turn completely cartoony (If they're the same or less mass than Light) depending on how complex they are. Living things and large objects take significantly longer, depending on their amount of life energy and/or their mass.
- Objects turned cartoony only share the negatives of Cartoon Physics, they do not share the positives of the ability.
- Energy fades very quickly due to having extremely low amounts of mass if it were to be converted to mass.
3. Pocket Space
- Light can store inorganic objects or energy under her dress in a spot called Pocket Space. Light can only store 1/4th of her mass worth of objects in this space. Objects stored in this space do not lose their reality, but it also can't gain it back either.
4. Toon Strength
- Light is stronger than an average fishman, however her bonus strength varies depending on her situation and mood.
- Personality: Light is an intelligent carefree person who values freedom above all else. Shes often playful and a bit deluded due to the power of her fruit, and has a hard time taking a situation seriously.
- Backstory: Escaping from a not-so-friendly family, Light made her way to the seas. She was greatly interested in the freedom that the seas had to offer, and decided to become a pirate. This was mostly seeing how poor some marines treated others and how badly most people treated fishmen.
- Other: Due to being part Axolotl, Light can regenerate any part of her body even when under the effects of Sea Prism Stone, however this regeneration takes a drastically longer amount of time. She can also still reattach body parts if they're cut off, but they take a long amount of time to completely reattach. |
1,063 | 15 | 1 | 679 | 1,156 | Lorna had indeed better luck at gathering vital materials then her captain was having. Being the unofficial treasurer of the crew of two, mostly because of her acquired wealth, Light had left Lorna alone to gather supplies. Lorna didn't mind being by herself, she would have no trouble navigating herself around the town. She was more worried about Light getting into trouble. In the amount of time Lorna had known Light, although it had been short, she had learned quite a bit about the other. And she knew how headstrong and...passionate...the fish woman was. She was excited to jump right into being a pirate, not putting a whole lot of thought into what the two might need. Luckily Lorna was good at planning.
Lorna had already located and visited stores that would stock them with food and water once they were ready to set sail, so they were all set in the food department. Lorna also took the liberty to replenish the crews other necessities, from blankets to dishes that always seem to break. And with her wallet slightly lighter and her backpack slightly heavier, Lorna set off to find her captain. She almost cracked a smile, thinking of referring the fish woman as her captain felt strange, and yet so right. She walked through the crowd carefully, not wanting to run into anyone. She knew she wouldn't have much trouble finding her captain, she walked in such an...animated way...that she vibrations seemed to bounce. | **Name:** Lorna
**Age:** 19
**Gender:** Female
**Race: **Human
**Picture or Description:** (
**Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other:** Crew Member
**Crew Position:** Archaeologist
**Techniques/Fighting Style:** Lorna style of fighting could only be described as rouge like and graceful. She fights using a form of hand to hand combat that focuses on powerful strikes on certain pressure points on the body. Her Devil Fruit power, while not used to fight directly, still aids in her ability to fight. She uses the vibrations of the air to sense oncoming attacks and opponents and nimbly avoid danger.
**Fruit (If applicable):** Furu Furu No Mi. This fruit gives the user the ability to sense vibrations in the air, Such as vibrations formed from sound bouncing off of objects. This works similarly to echolocation, allowing Lorna, although blind, to see.
**Personality:** Lorna initially appear as someone who is rather sweet and innocent. She keeps herself reserved and quiet while around respectable people like peers and strangers and has always strives to follow the rules set by her parents form a young age. She sometimes appears emotionless and stoic, but is quite the opposite. And around people she is more comfortable with she might make it a point to make these feelings known, but with people she doesn't know as well she will try to hide her true feelings with a smile. Lorna is a lot smarter then a lot of people think. A lot of people just think she is some young girl who can't think or fend for herself, while it is quite the opposite. She is rarely nervous or scared and can be really confidence in herself.
Lorna puts a lot of value into her friends, and is very loyal and protective. However her shy nature might make it hard for her to be outwardly affectionate towards anyone, masking her feelings with small favors and gentle words. It's said she is a good listener and advice giver.
**Backstory:** Lorna came from a very rich and very comfortable life. For large portions of her life it was just Lorna and her father, as her mother was terminally ill and often confined to her room with the doctors who were constantly visiting. Despite this, Lorna was a happy child. She was taught the trade of her choice, as well as martial arts, by the best teachers money could buy and was given the best care possible from the slaves servants in the estate. And even with the greatest doctors around on call, Lorna's mother did not survive. Lorna's father fell into a deep rage, blaming everyone and everything for his wife's death, and Lorna herself feel into a deep depression.
Soon she began developing strange symptoms, and after being examined by doctors, was discovered to have signs of late childhood blindness. The problems going unseen by the doctors due to them constantly having their attention on Lorna's late mother. Her father, his rage intensifying, began demanding rigorous treatment on his daughter, refusing to believe that his bloodline would be unable to continue if no one wanted to marry a blind bride. Several expensive treatments later finally ended with a Devil Fruit being brought in.
That was all in the past, and now with her ailment "cured", Lorna was sent off on a cruise ship, against her will, her father hoping that she would find a future husband there. It didn't take long for the cruise ship to be raided by rouge pirates, being destroyed and killing almost all of the passengers. Lorna was set adrift, and was found by Light.
**Other: **Despite her Devil Fruit power helping her see and navigate in her own way, she still sometimes gets confused when people move in strange way. She also longs to be able to see the wonders of the world, or even a sunset, again. |
1,064 | 15 | 2 | 361 | 76 | - **Boss Z. Gambino: Loguetown**
Boss looked on as the tourist he was at the execution platform. Having a single arm proved to attract little attention though he couldn't care less. Most places he went, Boss received a few curious glances. _I would cross my arms in a situation like this but what do you know. So this is where they execute kings? A little drab to me. Not nearly fit for the decapitation of a legend. Not to mention one world known. _He shook his head in disapproval. Before walking away, brushing past a few still looking at the stump of a shoulder he had. For self amusement he shouldered himself past a smaller looking outlaw. The man reached for his crude cheap blade though had a second thought as Gambino threw him that famous mischevious smile.
He walked aimlessly through the town, collecting as much information on his surroundings as possible. So far he's noticed one valuable source of info, a marine base. He spotted a marine walk inside smoking two cigars at the same time, though he thought nothng of it, though he still made a mental note. Stopping to talk to a few locals about the origins of the Polestar Islands. Many of the locals informed him that many pirates and marines alike overcrowded the island. Info worth having at the time.
**"Damn it I need a drink".** Boss told no one in particular. He scanned his surroundings; loud noises, the sound of glass, laughter, the smell of sea water and sweat, the smell of a bar. Squinting his eyes in the distance for a better resolution into the open doorway, he smiled again to himself, the bar growing closer as he walked. Once inside he immediately took care of business ordering a single tall bottle of rum, a healthy fourty ounces. He tossed his head back to enjoy his drink. He soon found himself gambling with the little beli he e had, though fate was on his side today, bubbling his funds.
**"You have dealt me victory. Your destiny has been decided by the cards".** Boss taunted his opponent, attempting to mimic the crazy women whom practiced divination back on his home island in the North Blue.
He took a long drag from the cigarette rolled with herbs he finds from island to island. Looking down back at his hand he reaches in his pocket to withdraw a very unimpressive wad of beli. Throwing it on the table, the large brute in front of him mimicing the action **"Neither of us can learn much more from this. I pretty sure you've learned by now you've lost, unless its really that hot in here"** Boss noting the sweat on the red headed man's forehead. He reveales his winning hand and swipes the belli from the table. The spectators all erupt in cheer, Boss leapt from his chair grinning ear from ear. **"Remember the name, it will soon be legendary I tell you. The cards don't lie. Look for me in the newspapers ladies and gentlemen, Boss Z. Gambino!!!!** His spectators began chanting pumping their fist, a 12 hand streak was quite impresive.
The large burly man with the red hair and a thick long beard that sat in his lap. He reached for his waist and pointed his flintlock up on the table at Boss. **"You one armed bastard"!!!!** | !( "enter image title here")
**Name:** Boss Z. Gambino/ `The Black Swamp Demon`
**Age:** 23
**Gender:** Male
**Race:** Human
**Crew Position:** Spy
**Techniques/Fighting Style:**
- _Physically_ Boss is left at a disadvantage being without an appendage. Not too long ago Boss lost his left arm in a battle that almost took his life along with the arm. Though missing a limb, using the power of his devil fruit Boss Z. Gambino can grow a scaled and green spotted replica when needed. "The Gecko" uses a combination of stregnth and strategy to overcome in battle, having applicle history in many life risking situations he decided to learn from his misendevors. Due to his size its usually a surprise as to how agile and quick on the feet Boss is, due to his Devil Fruit being the model of Gecko he also has gained the swift attributes from it.
- _Defensivly_ Boss also has a strong defense against swords an cuts, being able to painfully though sucessfully regenerate body parts that aren't severed with the use of haki imbued weapons. He also has an indominable will, and at all cost will not stop at a task until he succeeds whether its a fight or Ro, Sham, Bo.
- _Strategiclly_ Boss has an aptetude for collecting information. This is a scholarly trait he's had since childhood, now using it combativly. He holds an ability to quickly pick out possible weaknesses with an opponent through basic applications of trial and error. He lastly has memory like an elephant which he uses to recall information he's previously obtained.
**Devil Fruit**
- _Yamo Yamo No Mi-_ Though many would consider Boss cursed such as the few from his home island, Boss considers himself blessed. Destiny put a devil fruit in his hands and survival caused him to eat the wretched fruit. Though distastful the fruit had many positive qualities to it such as; allowing Boss to stick to vertical surfaces, a prehensile tongue, ability to produce toxins, and regenerative limbs. The Yamo Yamo does have a Hybrid and Full transformation though Boss has not achieved these forms and is still exploring other abilities.
**Personality:** Gambino has been through some life changes at a young age. His personality has changed with the tide, once a proud, disciplined, and determined scholar. Gambino still showing signs of this trait used to have a hunger for knowledge of all things, mostly intruiged by historical and mythological writings. Upon his studies he's noticed the great things many indivisuals in history has done, with no recognition from the citizens of today. His drive for knowledge has since recently become a hobby.
The sun must fall, and the moon rises with the night, change is inevidable. Gambino has traded his need for knowledge with a addiction to adventure and risk. Encountering a close death himself, Boss lives with no remorse nor regret undertsanding how quickly life can be taken from you. Which causes him to act on impulse causing him to land in a lot of misfortunate events. He has a life lasting desire, or in simpler terms a dream to; become a historical icon. To be a name everyone knows byation not by affiliation, being feared or loved, either wouldn't make a difference. Boss wants to become a living legend.
After the loss of his father and recent nakama he has also lost trust. He relies on himself, and believes therefore in himself. Attachtments would only get in the way of his ultimate goal of vengence which is clouded to everyone with a mischevious smile.
**Backstory:**
Gambino was once a young energetic and promising scholar. Living with an archeologist of a mother he adapted to her traits and focused all of his attention on his studies. "Knowledge is power" his mother continued to chant til her dying days. Seeing his father every few months, he was always intriuged with his stories of the Grand Line. At the time Gambino senior wouldn't think about allowing his on on his ship due to the daily dangers. He otherwise encouraged his seed to focus on his studies.
Little did his father, with the constant tales of adventure, freedom, fortune, and fame, he'd planted the seed. Boss headed down a different route in life. Reading the constant news on pirates from the Grand Line. Training his body and instincts by hunting the large amphibious and reptilian animals native to his island. Growing and progressing he soon became the islands well known delinquent.
His change in lane caused the local law enforcement to lock him up for multiple counts, thpugh still only 17 at the time his sentence was deduced to 8 weeks. While serving time, Gambino's mother fell terminally I'll, with her health decaying daily. He immediately ran to her aid, his mission now to find a cure. This passed caused him to befried two unusual indivisuals, a physcopathic surgeon, and wizmical witch doctor. The trio grew closer together on their scavenger hunts. Searching what at the time was known as The Black Swamp, Boss came across the Yamo Yamo. Without hesitation giving into his hunger at the time he ate th wretched tasting fruit.
The search continued for months until finally holding his mothers hand as she breathed her last. This sent Gambino in a rage activating his devil fruit's Hybrid Form. Blinded by rage and heart beyond imagination he blacked out killing many on his island. He eventually woke up on "The Shaman" his father's ship. After explaining the recent events to his son, Gambino having no memory of the escapade, his father welcomed him to the crew.
His father would soon assist Gambino with his newly discovered abilities, honing his skills. During a monstrous storm Gambino senior engaged in battle with a notorious and unstoppable pirate crew. This being a battle he loses both his father and left arm. Though a full year ago' Gambino only fully recovered recently, months before arriving in Lougetown. Now he seeks passage to the Grand Line to achieve his ultimate goal of vengence and continue his father's will. |
1,065 | 15 | 3 | 1,760 | 416 | **Den Grimsly, Loguetown**
From across the counter, a tired shopkeeper stared at a purple-haired boy as he browsed through all of the wares on display. A shop selling - of all things - guns and ammunition, had recently opened in Loguetown, and it had yet to pick up in popularity. This shopkeeper in particular had been here all day, adamant that someone would be interested in buying something. He had been there all day, and was falling asleep from boredom until someone had finally entered the building. Grimsly was the first 'customer' to actually take a step into the shop so far, and he was not a normal one either. The shopkeeper was expecting pirate customers; customers which would be aggressive, loud and would likely have a large amount of gold and beli to spend. However, Grimsly was the complete opposite of this. Since entering the store, he had said nothing at all, and from the looks of things, he had no beli at all. The store was filled with a seemingly forced silence, while Grimsly simply stared at one of the rifles which was on the wall. The shopkeeper had no reason to allow somebody who wasn't buying anything to take up space in his shop. He opened one of his eyes and spoke.
"Hey, if you're not going to buy anyth-"
Before he even needed to finish his sentence, Grimsly had already left the now-slightly-less-quiet building without uttering a word. Up until now, the shopkeeper hadn't been paying too much attention to Grimsly's appearance, but looking at his back, it was extremely clear that he had...wings? Impossible, the shopkeeper thought. Maybe he was a Devil Fruit user?
---
Now outside of the store, Grimsly was free to continue exploring the town. It was the first earth-town he had been to, and to him it did not seem too different from his time on Skypiea.
He brought his attention to a nearby bar, as he could hear an ungodly amount of cheering. Was drinking exciting? He didn't know, although his curiosity got the better of him. He approached the place, standing at the doorway and attempting to see what was causing the cheering. | ### **Den Grimsly, the Gunslinger**
!( "enter image title here")
---
**Age:**
16
**Gender:**
Male
**Race:**
Birkan
**Picture or Description:** Den Grimsly is a yellow-eyed, dark-skinned, purple-haired late teenager who stands at 5'6. His body build is relatively average for a teenager, although one could say he would fall closer to the thinner side of the spectrum. As a Birkan, he is endowed with two wings protruding from his back, which face downward.
**Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other:**
Crew Member
**Crew Position:** Marksman, Artillery.
- Grimsly is well-versed in marksmanship and is able to effectively operate a ship's ranged weapons. Such as cannons or ballista
**Techniques/Fighting Style:**
- Den Grimsly is a marksman, and owns a various assortment of ranged weaponry; extending from the basic pistols to a long-range rifle or bazooka. His ranged arsenal even extends to a bow, a slingshot and two crossbows. In combat, Grimsly constantly switches his weapons. He may be found firing a pistol for the first few seconds of a fight, but may switch to his long-range rifle to take a shot at enemy crew member on an another ship. His constant weapon-shifting keeps enemies on their toes and wary. Naturally, Grimsly's focus on ranged weapons leaves him at a very clear disadvantage versus anyone who can close the distance between him and them, as he has no melee weapon to fight with, and wouldn't be very proficient with it regardless. This combat style always makes people question where he actually stores his weapons. Even _he_ does not know.
- His eyesight is exceptional, and he is able to see over much longer distances than the average person. He is able to make out people on faraway ships, making him valuable as a ship's lookout (although he tends to get quite bored, doing that).
- Den Grimsly is a Birkan. A race that hails from the sky island of Birka; southeast of Skypiea. He shortly moved to Skypiea after birth, however. Grimsly has had access to, and has collected: Dials. He uses these Dials for combat, but some of these can be also be used outside of combat.
**Fruit (If applicable):** None.
**Personality:** Grimsly tends to be quite calm inside and outside of combat. And is difficult to surprise. He is quite appreciative of many things he finds , as he comes from the sky islands. He approaches most of his problems through thinking, rather than charging in mindlessly. He can be quite obnoxious at times, and enjoys nothing more than poking holes in the supposed foolproof plans of others. In a group, he takes the role of a ( and is normally the voice of reason. When in combat, Grimsly tries to abstain from speaking, maintaining his focus, but he has been known to make the odd taunting remark or two.
He also tends to use the greeting 'Heso', as they do in Skypiea.
**Backstory:** Den Grimsly comes from a Birkan family of bounty hunters. Before he was born, his family had moved from the warrior-filled sky island named Birka to the more peaceful and organized sky island; Skypiea. This did not excuse Grimsly from the culture of the Birkans, and Grimsly was raised as both a bounty hunter and a warrior. His choice of weaponry had been decided fairly early, as Grimsly demonstrated his gift of good eyesight at a young age. When he walked around Skypiea's beaches with his family, he would constantly point at things somewhat close to the horizon that were difficult to see, and would describe them with relative ease. Since then, Grimsly was trained in such a way that allowed him to use multiple types of ranged weaponry. Naturally, he was given all of these weapons to use for his eventual role as a bounty hunter.
What happened for him to now be in Loguetown is the result of an undying desire for even more types of guns. He longed to journey to the fabled land below to collect different treasures in the form of weapons. However, he was certain that he would soon be six feet under (dead) should he attempt to travel from Skypiea to the Grand Line immediately. Through the use of a _four-length_ bird and incredible luck, he had somehow managed to reach Loguetown - despite having no idea where it actually was.
**Inventory:**
Den Grimsly carries around a small bag which contains most if not all of his Dials:
- Two Jet Dials.
- A Breath Dial.
- An Impact Dial.
- A Flash Dial.
Grimsly also has collection of weapons which are not stored in a bag, and are instead stored somewhere else.
**Other:** None. |
1,066 | 15 | 4 | 619 | 2,639 | Sayuri yawns as she walks down the streets towards her last delivery. She'd had a long day, having had worked in the shop all morning then had a dozen deliveries. She didn't mind though. She didn't have to pay for a room or food, and enjoyed the work besides. She turned the corner and smiled, "There it is my last stop, and favorite bar in the city. Walking in she makes her way around the outside edge of the room up to the bar and places the wrapped package on the par in front of the owner, "Hey Tom how are ya today? I got yor knives here."
The older man turns and smiles brightly, "Ah, Sayri I'm doin' well how bout yourself? Need a drink? Have some time to hang around? Mina'll be in here soon," As he talks he pulls out a small bag of beri and hands it to her.
Smiling she accepts the bag, "I'm fine it's just been a long day," she accepts the bag and slips it into her delivery bag. She turns looking at the room and leans against the counter, "I do believe I'll stay and wait for her," she notices a card game going on and watches with a mild intrest, *'Looks like Red there still hasn't learned. He just doesn't seem to get he sucks at cards."
As she watched she sighed and walked towards the table smiling and nodding at those who welcomed her. She shoved her way to the front of the crowd standing behind the red haired man watching. She snickered when he, inevitably, lost. She was surprised however when he pulled a flintlock on the one-armed man who he was playing. Sighing Sayuri walks closer to and places her hand on the sword that was always at her waist. As she did so the cheers quieted, "Well Red, seems you've finally gotten tired of losing. I would, however, reccomend you put the pistol away and leave quietly. Otherwise I might need to get involved," she said it like she was just talking about the weather, but, like most of the local regulars knew, she wasn't a pushover. Not the strongest in town, but still pretty strong. | Name: Sayuri Mujona
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Picture or Description: ( Except she keeps her hair down and it is waist length. She wears black shoes, black pants, a blood red sash-like belt, a white sleeveless shirt, and white cloth bandages around her hands and lower arm leaving her fingers exposed. She also carries her sword, ( with her at all times.
Crew member, Swordsman.
Techniques/Fighting Style: She has her own sword style and also know limited Rokushiki. The Rokushiki moves she knows are Soru, Geppo, and though not well she is capable of Rankyaku.
Fruit (If applicable): N/A
Personality: She is laid back and carefree almost never getting serious. She is also difficult to anger and extremely difficult to calm down often getting short with those who she's not angry with. She enjoys reading, fighting, and training. She has very few things she actually dislikes. One of those few things is people who use those close to them to further themselves.
Backstory: She was raised and trained by a rouge marine in Rougetown until she was 14. At that time the marine was forced to leave. She also worked part time at a local smiths shop starting when she was 11. They began also began giving her actual work when she was 13. They also taught her to make herself a sword and how to repair it. Over the years she met several marines and pirates they intrigued her. Being able so sail where ever and whenever they wanted and that interested her. When she turned 18 she decided to find a crew and set sail.
Other: I have a technique list in the works. |
1,067 | 15 | 5 | 732 | 8,849 | Bristlebane's snoring stopped when the room went silent. He attempted to get up blurry-eyed and knocked the beer mug that had been on his table to the floor causing a incredably loud clattering noise in the akward silence. "Oops my bad." Bristlebane said totally unabashed and went to pick it up, ignoring the scene around the card table for the most part. | Name: Britslebane
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: (
Crew Position: Entertainer
Techniques/Fighting Style: Breakdancing and getting an opponent hit by his own or his allies attacks.
Fruit: Devil Fruit: Suwapp Suwappu Fruit(Swap Swap Fruit)- Allows the user to teleport and "Swap" places with something else. Currently he can only swap himself with another person but obviously the power will develop as the story progresses. The only limit for this Fruit currently is he has to be able to see what he is swapping, for example he cannot swap himself with a person behind him if he can't see them, however it does work through reflections.
Personality: Flippant, reckless, careless, whimsical, mischiebous, curious. Bristlebane really does whatever he feels like. Whether that entails playing for coins in a town square or breaking into a castle treasure simply to leave a calling card. Bristlebane clearly has no purpose in life yet has large array of skills keeps him out of trouble moving from one place to the next.
Backstory: Birstlebane doesn't remember much of his life. Anything further than a year back he has trouble recalling. Not that he cares, what's he done and what he is going to do has no importance to him. His well aware of how strange this is to other people but merely finds it amusing. One of the few things he does remember was eating his devil's fruit. He had snuck into some high security building or another simply to see what was inside it, there was a strange looking fruit. Needlessly to say Bristlebane was curious to see what was so great about this fruit and naturally ate it. Suffice to say Bristlebane was very dissapointed at how it tasted and now will no longer eat fruit of any kind, for now anyway.
Other: Can do Voice impressions, Ventriloquism, and has skill with all musical instruments.
Assuming you are still accepting of course. |
1,068 | 15 | 6 | 175 | 3,688 | Having swiped a few things from shopkeepers who weren't looking, storing said objects in the pocket space inside her dress bottom, Light made her way through a few more backstreets of Loguetown until a bar caught her attention, more so due to all the loud sounds coming from it. Sticking her head in the doorway, Light saw what was a poker game argument. Apparently from the looks of things, a man in red was angry at a large muscly, almost reptilian looking guy beating him in poker. This red guy had a gun pointed at the large guy, while a few other people in the bar either looked on in terror or were telling the red guy to step down.
"Welp, if none of them are going to settle this dispute..." Light said, noticing that people weren't taking any action. She entered the bar, and while a few people noticed her come in, it wasn't until she was behind the guy with the gun that everyone noticed her. Tapping him on the back, she greeted the man, who shrugged her off. She tapped him again a bit harder, until he turned around to look at her. Of course Light was uncomfortably close, so the man was face to face with her and her large black-and-orange eyes.
Seeing such unnatural, almost demonic looking eyes up close without seeing the full picture, the man understandably fired a couple rounds into what he thought was Light's torso. The bullets didn't really affect her too much, leaving a couple holes through her body before dropping onto the ground. Light in return playfully slapped the man across the face a couple times, more antagonizing him than hurting him, causing him to empty the gun in various parts of Light's body, including one shot between the eyes. Playing along, Light reeled back when the final headshot had hit, and held the pose for a couple seconds before retaliating with a headbutt, knocking the guy to the ground.
Showing no signs of blood, Light walked over to the bartender and ordered some wine. The man, a bit shellshocked at the whole scene that had just transpired in front of him, absently gave her a bottle without asking for payment. Satisfied, Light took a swig from the bottle, red streams of wine coming out of the various holes that were left in her body from the gunshots. After a bit she noticed this, and with a small popping sound, she made all the holes disappear. | - Name: Light
- Age: 24
- Gender: Female
- Race: Axolotl/Angelfish Fishman
- Picture or Description: Cute humanoid shape, Pure White skin, Light blue short hair, large ball-like head with no nose and veyr large black and orange eyes, large fin-like ears. Skinny neck, Broad chest/shoulders with basic hourglass shaped body and proportionate body features, Light blue dress-like apparel that has a W cut in the front to reveal her legs. Pointed legs with no feet. 4 fingered hands with fingers that end in points.
- Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other: Crew Member
- Crew Position: Captain
- Techniques/Fighting Style:
Light relies on basic street fighting for her style of combat, either using the environment or her strength to defeat a foe.
Fruit (If applicable):
- ACME ACME fruit
- This devil fruit gives Light the power of a cartoon. This gives her numerous advantages and disadvantages in and out of combat.
1. Toon Physics
- Light's physics are much different than what reality should allow. She can regenerate from anything that isn't atomization, and can even regenerate from supernatural afflictions such as having her soul ripped out, being turned into a toy, memory loss, poisons, and what have you.
- The downsides are that attacks affect her differently, causing strange effects, and sometimes even a weak attack can incapacitate her for a time. For example, a sword slash that wouldn't normally go through a person might cut her in half, causing her to either have to peie herself back together, or causing both halves to fight separately until she notices she was cut. Being st on fire will turn her into a pile of ash with eyeballs fairly quickly if not put out, and all other matters of Tex Avery cartoony antics. Large forces of Blunt Truama are very useful in this matter. Light can also be knocked out if enough damage is done to her in a short amount of time, and can take a bit before shes ready to fight again depending on how much damage was done and how.
- Her movements are rubbery, making her attacks and movement fairly sluggish, but also difficult to read.
- When walking off of a steep drop, If Light is unaware that she has walked off a cliff, she will float or walk in the air until she realizes she has walked off said cliff, in which case she'll fall like anyone else would.
- Light can't bleed and can reattach body parts very easily if they're chopped off.
2. Reality Siphon
- Light passively siphons and warps reality on anything she touches. This effect is much more pronounced in inanimate objects, and will cause said objects to eventually turn 'cartoony' before they fade from reality altogether. Organic objects lose reality much slower than inanimate objects, and when they turn cartoony, they will turn cartoony all at once instead of in pieces like inanimate objects. Objects with more mass than Light take an extremely long amount of time to lose their reality, and only lose it in chunks equal to Light's mass.
- Objects may regain their reality and turn back to normal if they haven't faded from it altogether if they don't touch Light for an extended period of time. Inanimate objects can take anywhere between 1 hour and 3 days to turn completely cartoony (If they're the same or less mass than Light) depending on how complex they are. Living things and large objects take significantly longer, depending on their amount of life energy and/or their mass.
- Objects turned cartoony only share the negatives of Cartoon Physics, they do not share the positives of the ability.
- Energy fades very quickly due to having extremely low amounts of mass if it were to be converted to mass.
3. Pocket Space
- Light can store inorganic objects or energy under her dress in a spot called Pocket Space. Light can only store 1/4th of her mass worth of objects in this space. Objects stored in this space do not lose their reality, but it also can't gain it back either.
4. Toon Strength
- Light is stronger than an average fishman, however her bonus strength varies depending on her situation and mood.
- Personality: Light is an intelligent carefree person who values freedom above all else. Shes often playful and a bit deluded due to the power of her fruit, and has a hard time taking a situation seriously.
- Backstory: Escaping from a not-so-friendly family, Light made her way to the seas. She was greatly interested in the freedom that the seas had to offer, and decided to become a pirate. This was mostly seeing how poor some marines treated others and how badly most people treated fishmen.
- Other: Due to being part Axolotl, Light can regenerate any part of her body even when under the effects of Sea Prism Stone, however this regeneration takes a drastically longer amount of time. She can also still reattach body parts if they're cut off, but they take a long amount of time to completely reattach. |
1,069 | 15 | 7 | 679 | 1,156 | It hadn't taken Lorna long to find where her captain was. She always knew that Light would go wherever there was adventure, and thus would cause a commotion. The blind woman hadn't payed too much mind to the game of cards going on, but couldn't help but press a hand to her lips to silence a giggle when the larger man won, and exclaimed his victory. She listened and 'watched' as the commotion of the bar grew louder, people taking sides in the fight soon to come. But then, as she expected, Light entered the bar.
Lorna was about to confront her captain into leaving the bar quietly, they didn't need to get wrapped up in another fight already. And then the man fired on her. Lorna figured she would never get used to how Light's body worked. Lorna knew bullets wouldn't hurt her captain, but suddenly feeling as holes appeared in her captain, The stoic girl flinched, even as her captain walked off without any sign of injury. Lorna walked over to her captain, who was now enjoying a drink at the bar.
"My captain." Lorna spoke in a hushed, serious, tone. "We should get going, the sooner the better." | **Name:** Lorna
**Age:** 19
**Gender:** Female
**Race: **Human
**Picture or Description:** (
**Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other:** Crew Member
**Crew Position:** Archaeologist
**Techniques/Fighting Style:** Lorna style of fighting could only be described as rouge like and graceful. She fights using a form of hand to hand combat that focuses on powerful strikes on certain pressure points on the body. Her Devil Fruit power, while not used to fight directly, still aids in her ability to fight. She uses the vibrations of the air to sense oncoming attacks and opponents and nimbly avoid danger.
**Fruit (If applicable):** Furu Furu No Mi. This fruit gives the user the ability to sense vibrations in the air, Such as vibrations formed from sound bouncing off of objects. This works similarly to echolocation, allowing Lorna, although blind, to see.
**Personality:** Lorna initially appear as someone who is rather sweet and innocent. She keeps herself reserved and quiet while around respectable people like peers and strangers and has always strives to follow the rules set by her parents form a young age. She sometimes appears emotionless and stoic, but is quite the opposite. And around people she is more comfortable with she might make it a point to make these feelings known, but with people she doesn't know as well she will try to hide her true feelings with a smile. Lorna is a lot smarter then a lot of people think. A lot of people just think she is some young girl who can't think or fend for herself, while it is quite the opposite. She is rarely nervous or scared and can be really confidence in herself.
Lorna puts a lot of value into her friends, and is very loyal and protective. However her shy nature might make it hard for her to be outwardly affectionate towards anyone, masking her feelings with small favors and gentle words. It's said she is a good listener and advice giver.
**Backstory:** Lorna came from a very rich and very comfortable life. For large portions of her life it was just Lorna and her father, as her mother was terminally ill and often confined to her room with the doctors who were constantly visiting. Despite this, Lorna was a happy child. She was taught the trade of her choice, as well as martial arts, by the best teachers money could buy and was given the best care possible from the slaves servants in the estate. And even with the greatest doctors around on call, Lorna's mother did not survive. Lorna's father fell into a deep rage, blaming everyone and everything for his wife's death, and Lorna herself feel into a deep depression.
Soon she began developing strange symptoms, and after being examined by doctors, was discovered to have signs of late childhood blindness. The problems going unseen by the doctors due to them constantly having their attention on Lorna's late mother. Her father, his rage intensifying, began demanding rigorous treatment on his daughter, refusing to believe that his bloodline would be unable to continue if no one wanted to marry a blind bride. Several expensive treatments later finally ended with a Devil Fruit being brought in.
That was all in the past, and now with her ailment "cured", Lorna was sent off on a cruise ship, against her will, her father hoping that she would find a future husband there. It didn't take long for the cruise ship to be raided by rouge pirates, being destroyed and killing almost all of the passengers. Lorna was set adrift, and was found by Light.
**Other: **Despite her Devil Fruit power helping her see and navigate in her own way, she still sometimes gets confused when people move in strange way. She also longs to be able to see the wonders of the world, or even a sunset, again. |
1,070 | 15 | 8 | 587 | 1,833 | **"HOOOOOOOOOOOY! WHOEVER THE STRONGEST PERSON IN TOWN IS! I'M MUSHURO TOGO AND I'M HERE TO KICK YOUR BUTT!"**
The young ninja in what appeared to be a strange mix of actual functional stealth garb painted striking whites and blacks and panda pajamas had been wandering around town yelling out similar things at the top of his lungs for quite some time, only now he was doing it atop the very scaffold where Gol D. Roger was executed, grinning like a loon and doing a little happy dance.
One might wonder just why such a bizarre sight was occuring. It all started when Mushuro Togo's crew had come to Roguetown. Unfortunately for the self proclaimed future world's strongest ninja-pirate his captain's stuffy no-nonsense financial advisor had practically forbidden him to "help" with any of the shopping. Therefore, he had been forced to make his own fun. In a place like Roguetown that was crawling with Marines and Pirates both, that meant finding some way to pick a fight with whoever the strongest person around was. Anything less than that absolutely would not do.
Unfortunately for Mushuro, he had no idea what the best way of finding said strongest person actually happened to be. Hence for the duration of his journey through Roguetown, he had basically just obviously stated his trouble-making intentions _extremely loudly_ under the logic that the strongest person around would feel insulted enough to actually attempt to put him down. Well, that or the local marines would try to arrest him and he could at least fight his way up to their strongest local member after taking out all the weaker ones, so either way he would win! To even better facilitate that, he figured he would make his way to the big square where Gol D. Roger was executed and make a spectacle of himself! THAT would get attention for sure!
This seemed like the definite best way to spend his time in Roguetown, yup. Besides, the Captain was probably just getting drunk in some bar. | Name: Mushurou Togo
Age:10
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Picture or Description: (
Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other: Crew Member
Crew Position:First Mate!
Techniques/Fighting Style: Mushurou can actually be stealthy, tricky and tactical if he bothers with it since he's been trained to do so from an improbably young age. However, now that he's run away to become a pirate he insists that being sneaky is "Not the pirate way!" Instead he relies on his skill in swordsmanship and his insane durability and iron hard determination to fight opponents. His swords Sarutobi and Saizo were ancient family heirlooms passed down for generations before he took them with him while running away, and he's extremely skilled in their use, especially for one so young. Furthermore, if he eats a large quantity of meat he's able to go into an even stronger berserk state of sorts, but doing so leaves him drained for a long period afterward.
Fruit (If applicable): Mushuro has the Bear Bear Fruit: Panda Variant which gives him the following abilities
Panda Form: In this form Mushuro turns into a massive fully-grown panda bear, giving him majorly increased strength and durability although he is slower than in both his hybrid form and his human form. Because Pandas have semi-opposable thumbs he can even use his swords while in this state. As in his human form eating meat in large amounts can cause him to gain berserker's strength for a short period then succumb to exhaustion.
Hybrid Form: Mushuro's hybrid form gives him other advantages apart from looking cuddly and adorable. Specifically it combines some of the increased strength of the full Panda form with the agility and training of his human form, with the increased power mainly meaning he can jump higher and run faster while pulling off ninja-like acrobatics, while still having access to his swords and berserker state.
Personality: Mushuro can be headstrong and stubborn, especially when it comes to his dream of being the strongest person in the world, ninja or pirate. He's also rather naive about how things in the world actually work due to being raised within his incredibly secretive ninja clan, despite his brimming confidence at being out and free of them for the moment. The small ninja has a surprising amount of tact and intelligence when he actually bothers to think, but he loves over-dramatic entrances and trying to seem awesome and cool and usually disregards his life of training in stealth and assassination because he thinks doing things sneakily is 'not the true pirate way'. Mushuro also treasures friendship, having never had any real friends before running away from home. Around friends he can sometimes act out in ways that are childish, spoiled or crybaby-like even for a child, mainly because he hadn't had a chance to do so with his actual family.
Backstory: Mushurou was raised to be the successor to a powerful ninja clan, but he hated their strict training, oppressive lifestyle and constant cycles of intrigue and betrayal. After a run-in with a pirate who saved his life he decided to run away to the open sea to become a ninja-pirate and the strongest man in the world. |
1,071 | 15 | 9 | 732 | 8,849 | Bristlebane put his mug back and discreetly left the tavern, seemed like it was unlikely he could get a card game in after that fiasco. He wandered around town a bit rather aimlessly until he heard some loudmouth proclaiming that he was ready to fight the strongest person. Bristlebane liked fights, they were usually a lot of fun. Until the other person either knocked themselves out or left. Never the less Bristlebane hadn't "fought" anyone in a while and he was totally up for it. Bristlebane slowly walked towards the... ninja? Defiantly a ninja, he had never fought a ninja before. "Yo!" he called out, "I'm tots the strongest person around we should fight." Bristlebane waited expectantly for the ninja man's response. | Name: Britslebane
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: (
Crew Position: Entertainer
Techniques/Fighting Style: Breakdancing and getting an opponent hit by his own or his allies attacks.
Fruit: Devil Fruit: Suwapp Suwappu Fruit(Swap Swap Fruit)- Allows the user to teleport and "Swap" places with something else. Currently he can only swap himself with another person but obviously the power will develop as the story progresses. The only limit for this Fruit currently is he has to be able to see what he is swapping, for example he cannot swap himself with a person behind him if he can't see them, however it does work through reflections.
Personality: Flippant, reckless, careless, whimsical, mischiebous, curious. Bristlebane really does whatever he feels like. Whether that entails playing for coins in a town square or breaking into a castle treasure simply to leave a calling card. Bristlebane clearly has no purpose in life yet has large array of skills keeps him out of trouble moving from one place to the next.
Backstory: Birstlebane doesn't remember much of his life. Anything further than a year back he has trouble recalling. Not that he cares, what's he done and what he is going to do has no importance to him. His well aware of how strange this is to other people but merely finds it amusing. One of the few things he does remember was eating his devil's fruit. He had snuck into some high security building or another simply to see what was inside it, there was a strange looking fruit. Needlessly to say Bristlebane was curious to see what was so great about this fruit and naturally ate it. Suffice to say Bristlebane was very dissapointed at how it tasted and now will no longer eat fruit of any kind, for now anyway.
Other: Can do Voice impressions, Ventriloquism, and has skill with all musical instruments.
Assuming you are still accepting of course. |
1,072 | 15 | 10 | 361 | 76 | - **Boss Z. Gambino: Loguetown/ Bar**
_"Hmm a female swordsman? I guess that would make her a swordsgirl? No stupid a swordwoman duhh. Okay though how do I explain the cartoon though, I've only had a drink. I can't be drunk already"._ Boss gave his rolled cigarette a mistrusting look before throwing it on the now dumbfounded man. He was still in a state of shock from the two attacks he'd just received. The cherry of the cigarette began burning through his pants, the accumulated heat in his lap snapped him out of his trance. As he started flailing his hands at his crouch, the red headed man was now the center of attention. Covered by the scene Gambino smoothly stepped from the table. Not too many seen him though he made contact with a few wandering eyes. _"Sore loser". He spoke to himself._
Gambino, sucessfully sliding to the edges of the bar found a very drunk patron along the way before reaching his destination; the front door. Remembering the marine base, and unpleasant looking fellow he recalled entering said base, attention at least for now wouldnt prove advantagous. So what now? He split his winings in half and handed it to the drunkard.**"Drinks on you". **
**"Ayee drrrrrrinks be on mee. THE BAR ON ME"!!!** Another spetacle to draw attention away from himself. The bar erupted once more in cheer as they hoisted the man up in the air on a chair. The drunkard fought for balance as it seemed the constant swaying and rapid moving was proving to be a little much on his stomache. Now at the front door, with the drinkers of the bar crowding the barkeep now Boss noticed 'Red' sitting shamed in a booth alone. Though he noticed he took advantage of the free drinks, with two tall glasses filled with goldish yellow. With one foot out the door he comtiplated, looking to a purple haired indivisual, he slowly put a finger to his own lips _Ssshhhhhh! Gambino slid to the corner where the booth was located , watching him approach, though now too drunk to defend himself, Red was caught off guard by the thick green scaled tail wrapping around his neck. Gambino could feel the life seeping away, as the man's eyes slowly rolled to the back of his skull. A satisfying crack and Gambino's tell retracted back into his body, dropping Red giving the appearance he was passed his limit in alcohol and fainted.
Given no further interruptions Gambino attempted to walk back towards the door, his prize smile painted on his face. Another thought ran through his mind coming close to his destination once more. Arriving at Loguetown in a rowboat...._"Where to from here"?_ | !( "enter image title here")
**Name:** Boss Z. Gambino/ `The Black Swamp Demon`
**Age:** 23
**Gender:** Male
**Race:** Human
**Crew Position:** Spy
**Techniques/Fighting Style:**
- _Physically_ Boss is left at a disadvantage being without an appendage. Not too long ago Boss lost his left arm in a battle that almost took his life along with the arm. Though missing a limb, using the power of his devil fruit Boss Z. Gambino can grow a scaled and green spotted replica when needed. "The Gecko" uses a combination of stregnth and strategy to overcome in battle, having applicle history in many life risking situations he decided to learn from his misendevors. Due to his size its usually a surprise as to how agile and quick on the feet Boss is, due to his Devil Fruit being the model of Gecko he also has gained the swift attributes from it.
- _Defensivly_ Boss also has a strong defense against swords an cuts, being able to painfully though sucessfully regenerate body parts that aren't severed with the use of haki imbued weapons. He also has an indominable will, and at all cost will not stop at a task until he succeeds whether its a fight or Ro, Sham, Bo.
- _Strategiclly_ Boss has an aptetude for collecting information. This is a scholarly trait he's had since childhood, now using it combativly. He holds an ability to quickly pick out possible weaknesses with an opponent through basic applications of trial and error. He lastly has memory like an elephant which he uses to recall information he's previously obtained.
**Devil Fruit**
- _Yamo Yamo No Mi-_ Though many would consider Boss cursed such as the few from his home island, Boss considers himself blessed. Destiny put a devil fruit in his hands and survival caused him to eat the wretched fruit. Though distastful the fruit had many positive qualities to it such as; allowing Boss to stick to vertical surfaces, a prehensile tongue, ability to produce toxins, and regenerative limbs. The Yamo Yamo does have a Hybrid and Full transformation though Boss has not achieved these forms and is still exploring other abilities.
**Personality:** Gambino has been through some life changes at a young age. His personality has changed with the tide, once a proud, disciplined, and determined scholar. Gambino still showing signs of this trait used to have a hunger for knowledge of all things, mostly intruiged by historical and mythological writings. Upon his studies he's noticed the great things many indivisuals in history has done, with no recognition from the citizens of today. His drive for knowledge has since recently become a hobby.
The sun must fall, and the moon rises with the night, change is inevidable. Gambino has traded his need for knowledge with a addiction to adventure and risk. Encountering a close death himself, Boss lives with no remorse nor regret undertsanding how quickly life can be taken from you. Which causes him to act on impulse causing him to land in a lot of misfortunate events. He has a life lasting desire, or in simpler terms a dream to; become a historical icon. To be a name everyone knows byation not by affiliation, being feared or loved, either wouldn't make a difference. Boss wants to become a living legend.
After the loss of his father and recent nakama he has also lost trust. He relies on himself, and believes therefore in himself. Attachtments would only get in the way of his ultimate goal of vengence which is clouded to everyone with a mischevious smile.
**Backstory:**
Gambino was once a young energetic and promising scholar. Living with an archeologist of a mother he adapted to her traits and focused all of his attention on his studies. "Knowledge is power" his mother continued to chant til her dying days. Seeing his father every few months, he was always intriuged with his stories of the Grand Line. At the time Gambino senior wouldn't think about allowing his on on his ship due to the daily dangers. He otherwise encouraged his seed to focus on his studies.
Little did his father, with the constant tales of adventure, freedom, fortune, and fame, he'd planted the seed. Boss headed down a different route in life. Reading the constant news on pirates from the Grand Line. Training his body and instincts by hunting the large amphibious and reptilian animals native to his island. Growing and progressing he soon became the islands well known delinquent.
His change in lane caused the local law enforcement to lock him up for multiple counts, thpugh still only 17 at the time his sentence was deduced to 8 weeks. While serving time, Gambino's mother fell terminally I'll, with her health decaying daily. He immediately ran to her aid, his mission now to find a cure. This passed caused him to befried two unusual indivisuals, a physcopathic surgeon, and wizmical witch doctor. The trio grew closer together on their scavenger hunts. Searching what at the time was known as The Black Swamp, Boss came across the Yamo Yamo. Without hesitation giving into his hunger at the time he ate th wretched tasting fruit.
The search continued for months until finally holding his mothers hand as she breathed her last. This sent Gambino in a rage activating his devil fruit's Hybrid Form. Blinded by rage and heart beyond imagination he blacked out killing many on his island. He eventually woke up on "The Shaman" his father's ship. After explaining the recent events to his son, Gambino having no memory of the escapade, his father welcomed him to the crew.
His father would soon assist Gambino with his newly discovered abilities, honing his skills. During a monstrous storm Gambino senior engaged in battle with a notorious and unstoppable pirate crew. This being a battle he loses both his father and left arm. Though a full year ago' Gambino only fully recovered recently, months before arriving in Lougetown. Now he seeks passage to the Grand Line to achieve his ultimate goal of vengence and continue his father's will. |
1,073 | 15 | 11 | 175 | 3,688 | Light watched as the bar seemed to get more lievely, the red guy's opponent throwing money around and offering everyone drinks. Lorna meanwhile sat down next to Light and urged her to leave the bar. "Why? Got people on our tails or something?" Light said, absently grabbing bottles when people weren't looking and storing them in her pocket space.
When she heard a gasp a few moments later, with the red gun guy laying unconscious, possibly dead, Light did heed Lorna's advice. "Well, if things weren't hot now, they'll be hot later. C'mon." she said, making her way out of the bar before everyone got in a panic. She bumped into a man with what could only be small wings on his back, waved hello, and made herself scarce, finding her way back to the main street after a bit.
"Oh jeez... Mushuro is trying to start another street fight. At least he can look cuddly enough to make it seem like a street performance." Light said, hanging back as she watched the fight between the panda man and whoever he was fighting. | - Name: Light
- Age: 24
- Gender: Female
- Race: Axolotl/Angelfish Fishman
- Picture or Description: Cute humanoid shape, Pure White skin, Light blue short hair, large ball-like head with no nose and veyr large black and orange eyes, large fin-like ears. Skinny neck, Broad chest/shoulders with basic hourglass shaped body and proportionate body features, Light blue dress-like apparel that has a W cut in the front to reveal her legs. Pointed legs with no feet. 4 fingered hands with fingers that end in points.
- Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other: Crew Member
- Crew Position: Captain
- Techniques/Fighting Style:
Light relies on basic street fighting for her style of combat, either using the environment or her strength to defeat a foe.
Fruit (If applicable):
- ACME ACME fruit
- This devil fruit gives Light the power of a cartoon. This gives her numerous advantages and disadvantages in and out of combat.
1. Toon Physics
- Light's physics are much different than what reality should allow. She can regenerate from anything that isn't atomization, and can even regenerate from supernatural afflictions such as having her soul ripped out, being turned into a toy, memory loss, poisons, and what have you.
- The downsides are that attacks affect her differently, causing strange effects, and sometimes even a weak attack can incapacitate her for a time. For example, a sword slash that wouldn't normally go through a person might cut her in half, causing her to either have to peie herself back together, or causing both halves to fight separately until she notices she was cut. Being st on fire will turn her into a pile of ash with eyeballs fairly quickly if not put out, and all other matters of Tex Avery cartoony antics. Large forces of Blunt Truama are very useful in this matter. Light can also be knocked out if enough damage is done to her in a short amount of time, and can take a bit before shes ready to fight again depending on how much damage was done and how.
- Her movements are rubbery, making her attacks and movement fairly sluggish, but also difficult to read.
- When walking off of a steep drop, If Light is unaware that she has walked off a cliff, she will float or walk in the air until she realizes she has walked off said cliff, in which case she'll fall like anyone else would.
- Light can't bleed and can reattach body parts very easily if they're chopped off.
2. Reality Siphon
- Light passively siphons and warps reality on anything she touches. This effect is much more pronounced in inanimate objects, and will cause said objects to eventually turn 'cartoony' before they fade from reality altogether. Organic objects lose reality much slower than inanimate objects, and when they turn cartoony, they will turn cartoony all at once instead of in pieces like inanimate objects. Objects with more mass than Light take an extremely long amount of time to lose their reality, and only lose it in chunks equal to Light's mass.
- Objects may regain their reality and turn back to normal if they haven't faded from it altogether if they don't touch Light for an extended period of time. Inanimate objects can take anywhere between 1 hour and 3 days to turn completely cartoony (If they're the same or less mass than Light) depending on how complex they are. Living things and large objects take significantly longer, depending on their amount of life energy and/or their mass.
- Objects turned cartoony only share the negatives of Cartoon Physics, they do not share the positives of the ability.
- Energy fades very quickly due to having extremely low amounts of mass if it were to be converted to mass.
3. Pocket Space
- Light can store inorganic objects or energy under her dress in a spot called Pocket Space. Light can only store 1/4th of her mass worth of objects in this space. Objects stored in this space do not lose their reality, but it also can't gain it back either.
4. Toon Strength
- Light is stronger than an average fishman, however her bonus strength varies depending on her situation and mood.
- Personality: Light is an intelligent carefree person who values freedom above all else. Shes often playful and a bit deluded due to the power of her fruit, and has a hard time taking a situation seriously.
- Backstory: Escaping from a not-so-friendly family, Light made her way to the seas. She was greatly interested in the freedom that the seas had to offer, and decided to become a pirate. This was mostly seeing how poor some marines treated others and how badly most people treated fishmen.
- Other: Due to being part Axolotl, Light can regenerate any part of her body even when under the effects of Sea Prism Stone, however this regeneration takes a drastically longer amount of time. She can also still reattach body parts if they're cut off, but they take a long amount of time to completely reattach. |
1,074 | 15 | 12 | 679 | 1,156 | Lorna knew that she wouldn't be able to convince her captain to leave the bar before it got any more chaotic. She 'looked' around the bar, nervous for her captains safety. She watched as the loud man collapsed in his booth. It was obvious to her that he was dead. She was about to speak up again when Light made the suggestion for them to leave. Lorna was tempted to make some sort of comeback like _"Oh, if only I thought of that!"_ But decided to hold her tongue. She didn't need to offend her captain.
"Yes, my captain." Lorna said, sliding off her bar stool to follow behind Light.
Out in the streets Lorna could feel another ruckus. The blind woman sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't a huge fan of Mushuro's...feisty...nature. He was a child, that's all she could say about the first mate of the crew. Lorna's true loyalties fall with Light, as she had saved her life. | **Name:** Lorna
**Age:** 19
**Gender:** Female
**Race: **Human
**Picture or Description:** (
**Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other:** Crew Member
**Crew Position:** Archaeologist
**Techniques/Fighting Style:** Lorna style of fighting could only be described as rouge like and graceful. She fights using a form of hand to hand combat that focuses on powerful strikes on certain pressure points on the body. Her Devil Fruit power, while not used to fight directly, still aids in her ability to fight. She uses the vibrations of the air to sense oncoming attacks and opponents and nimbly avoid danger.
**Fruit (If applicable):** Furu Furu No Mi. This fruit gives the user the ability to sense vibrations in the air, Such as vibrations formed from sound bouncing off of objects. This works similarly to echolocation, allowing Lorna, although blind, to see.
**Personality:** Lorna initially appear as someone who is rather sweet and innocent. She keeps herself reserved and quiet while around respectable people like peers and strangers and has always strives to follow the rules set by her parents form a young age. She sometimes appears emotionless and stoic, but is quite the opposite. And around people she is more comfortable with she might make it a point to make these feelings known, but with people she doesn't know as well she will try to hide her true feelings with a smile. Lorna is a lot smarter then a lot of people think. A lot of people just think she is some young girl who can't think or fend for herself, while it is quite the opposite. She is rarely nervous or scared and can be really confidence in herself.
Lorna puts a lot of value into her friends, and is very loyal and protective. However her shy nature might make it hard for her to be outwardly affectionate towards anyone, masking her feelings with small favors and gentle words. It's said she is a good listener and advice giver.
**Backstory:** Lorna came from a very rich and very comfortable life. For large portions of her life it was just Lorna and her father, as her mother was terminally ill and often confined to her room with the doctors who were constantly visiting. Despite this, Lorna was a happy child. She was taught the trade of her choice, as well as martial arts, by the best teachers money could buy and was given the best care possible from the slaves servants in the estate. And even with the greatest doctors around on call, Lorna's mother did not survive. Lorna's father fell into a deep rage, blaming everyone and everything for his wife's death, and Lorna herself feel into a deep depression.
Soon she began developing strange symptoms, and after being examined by doctors, was discovered to have signs of late childhood blindness. The problems going unseen by the doctors due to them constantly having their attention on Lorna's late mother. Her father, his rage intensifying, began demanding rigorous treatment on his daughter, refusing to believe that his bloodline would be unable to continue if no one wanted to marry a blind bride. Several expensive treatments later finally ended with a Devil Fruit being brought in.
That was all in the past, and now with her ailment "cured", Lorna was sent off on a cruise ship, against her will, her father hoping that she would find a future husband there. It didn't take long for the cruise ship to be raided by rouge pirates, being destroyed and killing almost all of the passengers. Lorna was set adrift, and was found by Light.
**Other: **Despite her Devil Fruit power helping her see and navigate in her own way, she still sometimes gets confused when people move in strange way. She also longs to be able to see the wonders of the world, or even a sunset, again. |
1,075 | 15 | 13 | 587 | 1,833 | Mushuro sighed mentally. The first person to speak up usually wasn't the actual strongest person around unless their reply was just to attack. BUT! This person could be someone who turned out to know that and was doing it just to throw him off, or if nothing else he could start with this guy and fight his way up!
"O-kay! Comin' at ya! Let's see what you're made of already!"
Before he could start he noticed that his challenge had gathered an audience, although a more familiar one than he'd been expecting. "Oh hey! It's the Cap'n and Ms.No-fun! Did you guys show up to watch me kick this guy's butt? I'll make it look really cool! Watch!"
With that he pretty much jumped directly at Bristlebane from the top of Gol D. Roger's execution scaffold, did a flip in the process and then swung both swords right at him from opposite directions. It wasn't much for subtlety and a normal person probably wouldn't have jumped from that height anyways let alone a kid, but Mushuro didn't usually bother much for things like 'tactics' or 'plans' or 'thinking' even though he'd been trained to be quite good at strategic, sneaky combat. Such things just didn't fit his image of a pirate, after all! Much better to jump off a high structure and do fancy flips as he attacked in mid-air. | Name: Mushurou Togo
Age:10
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Picture or Description: (
Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other: Crew Member
Crew Position:First Mate!
Techniques/Fighting Style: Mushurou can actually be stealthy, tricky and tactical if he bothers with it since he's been trained to do so from an improbably young age. However, now that he's run away to become a pirate he insists that being sneaky is "Not the pirate way!" Instead he relies on his skill in swordsmanship and his insane durability and iron hard determination to fight opponents. His swords Sarutobi and Saizo were ancient family heirlooms passed down for generations before he took them with him while running away, and he's extremely skilled in their use, especially for one so young. Furthermore, if he eats a large quantity of meat he's able to go into an even stronger berserk state of sorts, but doing so leaves him drained for a long period afterward.
Fruit (If applicable): Mushuro has the Bear Bear Fruit: Panda Variant which gives him the following abilities
Panda Form: In this form Mushuro turns into a massive fully-grown panda bear, giving him majorly increased strength and durability although he is slower than in both his hybrid form and his human form. Because Pandas have semi-opposable thumbs he can even use his swords while in this state. As in his human form eating meat in large amounts can cause him to gain berserker's strength for a short period then succumb to exhaustion.
Hybrid Form: Mushuro's hybrid form gives him other advantages apart from looking cuddly and adorable. Specifically it combines some of the increased strength of the full Panda form with the agility and training of his human form, with the increased power mainly meaning he can jump higher and run faster while pulling off ninja-like acrobatics, while still having access to his swords and berserker state.
Personality: Mushuro can be headstrong and stubborn, especially when it comes to his dream of being the strongest person in the world, ninja or pirate. He's also rather naive about how things in the world actually work due to being raised within his incredibly secretive ninja clan, despite his brimming confidence at being out and free of them for the moment. The small ninja has a surprising amount of tact and intelligence when he actually bothers to think, but he loves over-dramatic entrances and trying to seem awesome and cool and usually disregards his life of training in stealth and assassination because he thinks doing things sneakily is 'not the true pirate way'. Mushuro also treasures friendship, having never had any real friends before running away from home. Around friends he can sometimes act out in ways that are childish, spoiled or crybaby-like even for a child, mainly because he hadn't had a chance to do so with his actual family.
Backstory: Mushurou was raised to be the successor to a powerful ninja clan, but he hated their strict training, oppressive lifestyle and constant cycles of intrigue and betrayal. After a run-in with a pirate who saved his life he decided to run away to the open sea to become a ninja-pirate and the strongest man in the world. |
1,076 | 15 | 14 | 732 | 8,849 | Bristlebane grinned excitdely, yaaaaaay a fight, he jumped towards the strange ninja child eargerly watching with wide eyes as the blades sliced through the air toward his neck. His grin contiuned unperterubed as the cold steel came within milimeters of his neck, and then Bristlebane vanished from Mushuro's sight swapping places with him and jumping off of Mushuro's back landing on the playform Mushro had just launched himself from. The child was now inches from the ground and would no doubt bonk into it unless he had ninja reflexes or something equally weird. | Name: Britslebane
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: (
Crew Position: Entertainer
Techniques/Fighting Style: Breakdancing and getting an opponent hit by his own or his allies attacks.
Fruit: Devil Fruit: Suwapp Suwappu Fruit(Swap Swap Fruit)- Allows the user to teleport and "Swap" places with something else. Currently he can only swap himself with another person but obviously the power will develop as the story progresses. The only limit for this Fruit currently is he has to be able to see what he is swapping, for example he cannot swap himself with a person behind him if he can't see them, however it does work through reflections.
Personality: Flippant, reckless, careless, whimsical, mischiebous, curious. Bristlebane really does whatever he feels like. Whether that entails playing for coins in a town square or breaking into a castle treasure simply to leave a calling card. Bristlebane clearly has no purpose in life yet has large array of skills keeps him out of trouble moving from one place to the next.
Backstory: Birstlebane doesn't remember much of his life. Anything further than a year back he has trouble recalling. Not that he cares, what's he done and what he is going to do has no importance to him. His well aware of how strange this is to other people but merely finds it amusing. One of the few things he does remember was eating his devil's fruit. He had snuck into some high security building or another simply to see what was inside it, there was a strange looking fruit. Needlessly to say Bristlebane was curious to see what was so great about this fruit and naturally ate it. Suffice to say Bristlebane was very dissapointed at how it tasted and now will no longer eat fruit of any kind, for now anyway.
Other: Can do Voice impressions, Ventriloquism, and has skill with all musical instruments.
Assuming you are still accepting of course. |
1,077 | 15 | 15 | 2,628 | 9,853 | ... Am I going to have to patch anyone up after this?
Ugh. Getting hurt for no reason was just plain annoying! It wasn't like Mushuro HAD to go challenging this guy or something like that. But no, no, he had to go fighting people. Well, at least if it was the other people who got injured she wouldn't have to go patching them up. Rita groaned as she leaned back against the wall and glared at the fight. There was a bar nearby, but it didn't look like she'd need to drink for a bit and she wasn't entirely in the mood, no matter how much she enjoyed alcohol. The small girl's slight arms were folded across her chest as she simply irritably glared. If the fight kept going for too long, maybe it would drive her to drink.
Being the ship's medic wasn't all bad, but still. Getting injured for dumb reasons ticked Rita off, a whole lot, and getting injured for this particular reason definitely would have made her angry. Still, she had yet to see anyone get actually hurt, so that was a good sign. | - Name: Margarita Marianna McManus
- Age: 10! ... Physically. She is actually 22.
- Gender: Female
- Race: Human
- Picture or Description: (
- Crew Member, Marine Rival, or Other: Crew Member
- Crew Position: Doctor
- Techniques/Fighting Style: Rita was trained from a very young age by her grandfather, studying martial arts. And when she was old enough to handle alcohol... he revealed the McManus family's secret technique to her. The fabled drunken fist! Training in this art, Rita learned how to... beat the hell out of things using alcohol power. It is a very simple style that allows her to hit things extremely hard when drunk. Sober, however, she is about as useful in a fight as she looks.
- Fruit (If applicable): N/A
- Personality: Rita, as she is called for short, is at first glance quite a polite and refined girl. And... this is not false, at all. She is quite refined, her speech very polite. She gives the impression of the child daughter of some well-off family. Only... she's actually twenty-two so she's not that young at all. And... when she gets angry her politeness begins to fade. Rita will snap, complain, and generally be unpleasant to anyone who makes her annoyed. She also has a remarkably deep adoration of alcohol. She gets drunk very quickly and her personality undergoes a drastic shift. Rita's speech becomes very rough, and she acts like a stereotypical delinquent. She enjoys fighting when she's drunk. Fighting and pretty girls. She also tends to fight by punching things really really hard. And kicking. And anything she can possibly do to cause a lot of physical harm to someone very very rapidly, really. When she sobers up again... she doesn't deny anything but the being way too into pretty girls part.
- Backstory: Rita was trained from a very young age by her grandfather, studying martial arts. And when she was old enough to handle alcohol... he revealed the McManus family's secret technique to her. The fabled drunken fist! Training in this art, Rita learned how to... beat the hell out of things using alcohol power. It wasn't long before her grandfather decided that it was time to complete her training, sending her out into the world in order to do so. After a particularly intense fight, Rita found herself lost, and eventually wound up in a pirate crew.
- Other: Only competent as a doctor when extremely drunk. |
1,078 | 15 | 16 | 732 | 8,849 | Bristlebane grinned, mischievisly | Name: Britslebane
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: (
Crew Position: Entertainer
Techniques/Fighting Style: Breakdancing and getting an opponent hit by his own or his allies attacks.
Fruit: Devil Fruit: Suwapp Suwappu Fruit(Swap Swap Fruit)- Allows the user to teleport and "Swap" places with something else. Currently he can only swap himself with another person but obviously the power will develop as the story progresses. The only limit for this Fruit currently is he has to be able to see what he is swapping, for example he cannot swap himself with a person behind him if he can't see them, however it does work through reflections.
Personality: Flippant, reckless, careless, whimsical, mischiebous, curious. Bristlebane really does whatever he feels like. Whether that entails playing for coins in a town square or breaking into a castle treasure simply to leave a calling card. Bristlebane clearly has no purpose in life yet has large array of skills keeps him out of trouble moving from one place to the next.
Backstory: Birstlebane doesn't remember much of his life. Anything further than a year back he has trouble recalling. Not that he cares, what's he done and what he is going to do has no importance to him. His well aware of how strange this is to other people but merely finds it amusing. One of the few things he does remember was eating his devil's fruit. He had snuck into some high security building or another simply to see what was inside it, there was a strange looking fruit. Needlessly to say Bristlebane was curious to see what was so great about this fruit and naturally ate it. Suffice to say Bristlebane was very dissapointed at how it tasted and now will no longer eat fruit of any kind, for now anyway.
Other: Can do Voice impressions, Ventriloquism, and has skill with all musical instruments.
Assuming you are still accepting of course. |
1,079 | 16 | 0 | 1,965 | 2,274 | Somewhere near Washington D.C.
It's been over two months since the last contact with other survivors, even bandits. It's like no one is even left alive anymore. Though people have been lost in that same time, two months ago the Convoy had over 30 people and much more reliable equipment. Now we are down too 18 people and the remaining vehicles are not stable enough for long term travel.
As if on cue the a cloud of smoke starts to erupt from the engine of the Ambulance. Hunter was driving the Humvee in front of it and watched the whole event unfold as it broke down. The convoy was forced to stop, the surroundings were not the best to stop, thick woods all around and too much wind to tell what was a rustle of leaves or a rustle of the dead.
Hunter got out of the Humvee and walked over to the Ambulance, It didn't take much too see the radiator was shot... Again. But something else had to be going on? Smoke like that would not come out if it was just the radiator would it? "Does anyone know what caused the breakdown this time?" Then he smelled it, something had caught fire in the engine, Human flesh. This has happened in the past, Only not this much. The engine was lined with burnt gunk, cleaning it out would take days with equipment they didn't have, and water they could not spare.
Hunter walked off from the Ambulance, it had deices that you could only have on the road with an ambulance in it. He paced for a moment then kicked the side of the Humvee. "DAMMIT!" He would kick the side of the truck several times before the pain in his foot told him it was too much. "That's the second car this week, and I don't know about you guys but I haven't seen another working car in weeks!" Several were found last week but it was decided it wasn't worth the fuel. He spoke as if he was losing his will to speak at all. "Does anyone have any ideas on how to fix this problem?" | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Hunter Monroe
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Hunter is a man with a reasonable build, he has long dark hair and dark eyes to match. He has decent strength to him but will use what combat skills he has to defend himself. He wears camouflage cargo pants with a T-shirt mainly. At times he will wear a jacket depending on the weather and a satchel holding misalliances supplies. He tends to wear different types of hats, but has a tendency to lose said hats. So they will change all the time.
Former occupation: Hunter worked in a grocery store for several years, though he did have some experience as an electrical Engineer beforehand.
Current Job(s): Hunter now works as an Officer, Scavenger, Soldier, but can be applied as an engineer.
Weapons of choice: 12 gauge Pump action or M4A1, M1911 Handgun, and a hatchet.
Gear of choice: Gas mask, Satchel, Flares or flare gun, Lighter, Small amount of copper wire.
Personal Items (if applicable): His personal items are not much, but he keeps a picture of his family tucked into his old wallet.
Bio:
When things started to go bad Hunter looted the store he worked at and loaded the supplies into his truck, he didn't make it far before he got into a car accident and was forced to walk. When he finally got to his parents home he spent weeks looking for them and the rest of his family, He found some of them but they were already dead. He also learned just how infectious the Virus was. When he found a working gas mask he refused to take it off unless he was in an isolated place with locked doors on all sides.
After a few weeks of traveling he came across some people who took him in. A few more people later and a small convoy was being formed. Now he acts as one of the officers who helps keep the convoy running. He will do anything and everything to try and pull his own weight.
Other: Hunter has picked up a collection of skills over the last few months, things including shooting, hand to hand, and how to "Pick a lock" Which normally involves destroying the door until it's open. |
1,080 | 16 | 1 | 1,097 | 889 | Georgia climbs out the car and tries her best not to slam the door shut. Hunter's yelling probably attracted enough dead already.
"Quiet the fuck down, Hunter," she says, adjusting the doctor's mask hanging around her neck. Her eyes shifted over the scenery around them. "Attracting Rotter's when we're broken down is a worse situation than this. Besides, it's the apocalypse, accidents are expected to happen." She turns back to the car and retrieves her bat and bag. "You guys discuss, I'll look around a bit. Call for me if you need me."
Georgia turned and started to circle the area, scanning it for dead. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Georgia "News" Newlyn
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Height: 5'6" (1.5 meters)
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Yes, I am aware that she is from the Walking Dead.
Georgia has a few week old bruises on her arms and chest that are prior-outbreak. She also has a few scars; one small strike below her left eyebrow and a jagged spot above her right knee, both about two years old. She has a tattoo that says "Dearest," (comma included like the introduction to a letter) in her girlfriend's, Bianca's, handwriting right above her right thigh.
Former occupation: She was just a poor college student on the run from her abusive girlfriend before it happened. She was majoring in veterinarian science.
Current Job(s): Clean fresh animal kills/tend to any animals (such as horses) that could be useful if they find any
Weapons of choice: Her father's army knife and an aluminum bat
Gear of choice: She has an abundance of doctor's mask she snagged from a vet office, both clean and dirty scalpels tucked safely and securely into her first aid kit, even a needle or two in there. Que-tips and a pocket knife also reside in the first aid kit.
Personal Items (if applicable): She has two bottles of water, one full and one almost empty. A few snacks she snagged from the airport. A picture of Bianca. Her wallet and dead cellphone. All are stored in a small pouch.
Bio: Georgia is from Pheonix, Arizona. She met Bianca in her last year of high school, and everything was nice. But Georgia had a falling out with her father and moved in with Bianca while she searched for colleges to enroll in. At first, it was nice. Living with your girlfriend has it's perks, but soon Bianca started physically abusing Georgia. Georgia quietly took the abuse until one day she took all the money and bought the cheapest ticket she could find that would distance the two over a few states. Only a few minutes after she got off the plane, broadcast warning about the outbreak started.
Other: The bruises and the scars are from Bianca if you haven't realized it yet. The falling out she had with her father was about her being bisexual. |
1,081 | 16 | 2 | 473 | 15 | Samuel’s face twisted into a grimace as his eyes followed the smoke rise from the front of the ambulance. ‘It’s always something, isn’t it’, he thought to himself as he pushed down on the clutch and reached down from the steering wheel with his right hand to lower the gears. As the 18-wheeler came to a stop, Sam pulled the keys from the ignition and threw them into his pocket. He hid his flask of whiskey beneath his seat before throwing open the door to his left and swinging his legs outward. He took his time getting down from the truck since his left leg was asleep from the drive and his back was giving him some trouble.
As he shuffled to the ambulance he caught sight of Hunter kicking the Humvee. ‘Young kids – they’re such hot-heads’ he thought to himself and smiled. His face remained stolid as he leered into the open hood of the ambulance and caught a large whiff of the scent of burnt flesh. There wasn’t much that could surprise him before the outbreak and he was starting to get that way again with so much overexposure to these things. Hunter must have smelled that flesh too and by his ‘exhibition’, he probably estimated it would be a difficult fix.
“Now I don’t mean to step out of line or nuthin’ --” he began with a slow drawl, “but I reckon’ there ‘aught to be a stream or somethin’ nearby we could use to at least cool it down while ya’ll engineers work on a real solution. Worst comes to worst, we could hitch it up to another vehicle and drag it to the nearest city.” Samuel gave a light nod as he clarified, “But you’re the officer and all and it ain’t much matter to me so long as we get outta here. Georgia may seem to have her britches in a bunch but she has a point. I think them things can smell us and they’ll probably head this way soon.”
He noticed how stressed and down-trodden Hunter had been when he asked for ideas and he gave him a fatherly nod before giving the surroundings a quick look-over. Trees. Trees. Nothing but trees. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Samuel Fox Taylor (often called Sam)
Gender: Male
Age: 61
Height: 5’11”
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Samuel supports a large stocky frame with broad shoulders and a thick neck. While old age may have weakened him, his occupation has kept him strong. Muscle tone is clearly visible mostly on his arms but somewhat on his back and shoulders. He sports the distinctive dark farmer’s tan on his arms, and sock area. Excessive exposure to the sun and old age have carved countless line onto his face and a small bout of skin cancer that is visible but benign on his left forearm. His facial hair is usually kept at just a bit more than stubble but after the outbreak, he's been worried about it less and it's gone a bit more wild. Lastly, his left eye squinches a bit more than his left eye and the vision in this eye is less keen but his other eye usually works well enough for the tasks at hand.
Former occupation: Farmer
Current Job(s): Driver and scavenger (he was a truck driver during some of his younger years)
Weapons of choice: He was very close to his shotgun but with ammo running low, he now prefers to use an old brown ax from the farm due to its balances swing, the distance it keeps the undead, and its low chance of breaking. He also appreciates the other functions the ax can perform. However, he is not keen on the way that once you commit to a swing there is no turning back as well as the effort required to remove the weapon from an undead’s body.
Gear of choice: He managed to grab a few air filtration masks that he use to use when he worked with pesticides as well as a handful of bandannas in case something happened to his mask. He also carries with his a medium sized brown ax. He also carries around a large flask of whiskey that he's been nursing since the outbreak.
Personal Items (if applicable): He carries with him a small packet of mixed seeds in case the world ever goes back to normal or if he ever stays in one place long enough to grow them.
Bio: Samuel Fox Taylor was born and raised in Kansas to a poor family that were able to farm a slight excess of what they needed themselves. As soon as he could get his driver's license, he applied to work for a trucking company to transport goods across the unites states. He wanted to see the world, to get away from the small town he grew up in. He spent 7 years with the same company until he met Annie at a diner in Texas. He fell in love, got married, quit his job, and used his savings to purchase a small plot of land to settle down on and to farm.
It seems nothing good can last and eventually Samuel began to spend more time at the bar, coming home late, and spent very little time with his wife who began to resent him. He constantly begged for him to show that he loved her -- or any emotion at all for that matter. One day, after working in the fields, he went to the bar and came back to find that Annie, and all her belongings were gone.
Since then, Sam spent more and more time at the bar and his addiction began to develop further. Eventually he lost the land he had purchased and became homeless. Shortly after this, the outbreak occurred. It was difficult to believe at first. Since he lived in such a small town, it took a long while for the infection to reach them. It wasn't until a large herd of undead came travelling toward the town that everyone began to take things seriously. He spend a while on the run and eventually ran into the convoy. He hesitated joining initially but eventually decided this could be his last chance to do good by other people.
Other: He gets a little grumpy when he hasn't had alcohol in a while (but he tries to hide his problem). |
1,082 | 16 | 3 | 419 | 519 | Due to his 'esteemed' position on the Convoy, Jackmier drove the Ambulance. For the first few miles all was well and the outer D.C area rolled past without qualm or complaint...
*Bang*
With a start Jackmier dozed from his subconscious drive. Within seconds the road ahead began to vanish from sight and was replaced with a thick grey cloud, or in this case smoke. "Ah fick mich!" Jackmier groaned as he slammed his fist into the dashboard, this wasn't the first time one of the Convoy's engines went down, but it was never his engine. "Nein, nein, noch nicht. Noch nicht du verdammter drecksau!"
Jackmier pulled off from the Convoy just in time as the vehicle finally stalled and came to a halt. Looking out his rear-view mirror he could see the rest screech to a stop. Turning his view back towards the front, he watched Hunter step out from his Humvee and stomp his way down the column to the Ambulance. Without saying a word he watched Hunter pop the top and look down into the heart of the machine, his cursing was clear even through the metal and glass.
With a sigh Jackmier threw the door to the Ambulance open and hopped down from his seat and onto the road, giving an audible groan as he stretched and adjusted his sweat & bloodstained dress shirt and tie. The smell of burnt flesh wasn't a new smell, even before the apocalypse, however the state of the engine was a far more annoying occurrence for the German and the Convoy as a whole. Silently, he watched Georgia trudge off for the sake of 'looking around' and Samuel give his say. Finally, he spoke.
"Aye, I agree with the old cotter. Finding a stream or a landmark of some sort would be in our best interest. I can take a look at the engine and see what can be saved." He stated simply, flashing his slowly fading white teeth and giving a smirk as he leaned against the Ambulance. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Jackmier 'Dark Doc' Karkaff
Gender: Male
Age: 53
Height: 5 foot 10 inches
Jackmier is a man who's face and appearance matches his personality. A scrawny, dare-say unhealthily thin man with rather greasy shoulder-length black hair. His bright green beady eyes gleam with ambition, jealousy, greed, and pride to boot.
Former occupation: Black Market Surgeon and Enforcer of the Russian Mafia
Current Job(s): Medical Staff with a meddling in Engineering (Machines are just humans with oil as blood, right?)
Weapons of choice: Makarov Pistol, Icepick, Scalpel
Gear of choice: First Aid Kit containing: Roll of Gauze, Painkillers, Bandaids, small vial of morphine, package of antibioitics
Small leather Doctor's Bag containing: Spare set of clothing, a pack of cigarettes, small bottle of Diethyl Ether, and a gas mask.
Personal Items (if applicable): In Jackmier's eyes, the past isn't worth remembering or keeping, only the present matters.
Jackmier tells no one of his life prior to the convoy, and some of the younger members of the convoy believe that perhaps there was no Jackmier prior to convoy. However, the reality of his past is far more twisted and contorted.
Born to a prostitute for a mother and a father associated with both the East German Stasi and the early Russian mafia. The little he ever saw of his father more often than not involved a short but effective beating and a new set of stitches. The little joy he found out of life came from the animals on his block, especially the stray cats. However, it wasn't the comfort of their purrs that Jackmier enjoyed, it was their yelps as he poked and prodded them with kitchen utensils he'd steal in the morning. Pain was a interest to the young Jackmier, the reactions of mammals to it was a beautiful and intense emotion. Often he'd record in his journal what types of pain animals reacted to the loudest, more violently, and what pain brought the quickest fatality.
As a youthful and equally twisted teen, Jackmier followed in his father's footsteps; first associating with the smaller street gangs and eventually joining his father at the meeting place of the budding Lazanov Family. This slow rise into organized crime gave the young Jackmier meaning, a purpose and place in the ever-changing world around him. He quickly found his place as a field medic and occasionally 'information gatherer' for the family. This was where he found his calling as a surgeon. At all hours of the night Jackmier would be woken by a loud bang on the door, often his own father, and would get straight to work on stitching a new knife-wound, or removing a bullet using only a pair of tweezers and a large bottle of alcohol to dull his patients pain.
Then the wall came down... Mass immigration out of the East and into Western Europe and North America, and the collapse of any uncorruptable law enforcement was a dream come true for the Russian mafia, including the Lazanovs. With a growing power-base at home, Don Gobarik Lazanov gained contacts in North America, specifically New York. With the mass immigration, plenty of illegal Europeans were able to enter the United States, including Jackmier. With a final, firm, handshake with his father he left Germany and Europe for the first and last time. One year later his father would be arrested during a heist gone south in Romania, with no contact again with his son.
Life in New York wasn't much different than East Berlin or any other city Jackmier had spent time in. He continued his life as a surgeon on the Black Market and continued his association with the Lazanov Family in both fixing (and causing) broken bones and limbs. However, in 1998 he encountered what would become his addiction... Ether. A short-lived drug of the 1970s, ether was often used as a general anesthetic in North America, and would become one of the items the now middle-aged Jackmier would use on his patients and himself.
Then the dead began to rise... Within days of what the religious and devout called the apocalypse New York City fell. Chaos filled the streets as both the undead and looters began hunting down those who hadn't fled the city in the initial breakdown. Only through his few remaining and living contacts did Jackmier get out of New York and travel north, towards Vermont. The rest, as they say, is history...
Other: Jackmier's long life within the mafia has given him a variety of skills ranging from drastic information 'gathering' skills, breaking and entering, and on-field medical assistance. |
1,083 | 16 | 4 | 1,965 | 2,274 | Hunter calmed himself down, things were bad enough, last thing he should be doing was making it worse with the fit he was throwing. He would look over too Samuel. "A stream is a good idea, We can check the maps and hope we find something soon. And if we can't we will have to drag the thing with one of the trucks or something."
Hunter then turned to Jackmier. "If you think you can do something with that feel free to try, never seen so much crap in the engines before..." Hunter walked back to the engine to get a better idea how much burnt mush there was inside of it. Didn't take long for him to spot the remains of a hand. "Have fun with this Jackmier, I'ma go... Help find the stream."
he walked over to the trunk of the Humvee and pulled out a shotgun, he saw the remaining ammo, there was enough for now but they should be careful with it. He went to the front of the Humvee and grabbed a map. He starred at it for about 2 minutes before he realized he had been looking at the wrong map. "...Dammit." This was the same map he had been using all day for the convoy to travel. He hated these stupid mistakes, for all he knew D.C. was just around the corner and the smoke from the engine could draw unwanted attention. He climbed back into the truck and grabbed the correct map, he had an estimate to where the convoy landed up, but it wasn't in the best of situations, an elevated highway was just over a mile away, big one too. Leads right into D.C. He would go back to searching the Correct map for a stream. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Hunter Monroe
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Hunter is a man with a reasonable build, he has long dark hair and dark eyes to match. He has decent strength to him but will use what combat skills he has to defend himself. He wears camouflage cargo pants with a T-shirt mainly. At times he will wear a jacket depending on the weather and a satchel holding misalliances supplies. He tends to wear different types of hats, but has a tendency to lose said hats. So they will change all the time.
Former occupation: Hunter worked in a grocery store for several years, though he did have some experience as an electrical Engineer beforehand.
Current Job(s): Hunter now works as an Officer, Scavenger, Soldier, but can be applied as an engineer.
Weapons of choice: 12 gauge Pump action or M4A1, M1911 Handgun, and a hatchet.
Gear of choice: Gas mask, Satchel, Flares or flare gun, Lighter, Small amount of copper wire.
Personal Items (if applicable): His personal items are not much, but he keeps a picture of his family tucked into his old wallet.
Bio:
When things started to go bad Hunter looted the store he worked at and loaded the supplies into his truck, he didn't make it far before he got into a car accident and was forced to walk. When he finally got to his parents home he spent weeks looking for them and the rest of his family, He found some of them but they were already dead. He also learned just how infectious the Virus was. When he found a working gas mask he refused to take it off unless he was in an isolated place with locked doors on all sides.
After a few weeks of traveling he came across some people who took him in. A few more people later and a small convoy was being formed. Now he acts as one of the officers who helps keep the convoy running. He will do anything and everything to try and pull his own weight.
Other: Hunter has picked up a collection of skills over the last few months, things including shooting, hand to hand, and how to "Pick a lock" Which normally involves destroying the door until it's open. |
1,084 | 16 | 5 | 580 | 1,924 | Due to her being one of the only ones with actual military experience, and being used to riding rather than walking as a ground pounder, Belle had the honor of mounting the M249 on the humvee. Her position insisted that she keep watch, but with the thoughts of Ray still lingering in her mind she found it hard to focus. She often teared up as she looked around, but managed to get rid of the tears. She had told a few people about what had happened, just to let it out, but otherwise was too focused on riding.
Now, the ambulance appeared to be having trouble. You've gotta be kidding me, she thinks to herself, swinging the M249 around to look at the ambulance, before turning it back around to continue her sweep of the local area. This was not a good place to stop, and... Quickly, her head turned to look at Hunter kicking the car. "You've gotta be kidding me." Belle mumbles to herself. As everyone walks around the place, Belle swings the turret back and forth, looking like she is doing some mad dance with it rather than actually keeping watch.
As Hunter begins looking at maps, Belle decides to start conversing. She had nothing better to do, anyways. "So, Hunter." She asks, purposefully turning the turret and pointing the barrel of the gun down at him. "Give me all your money. No? Bang, bang, bang." She gives a little giggle, turning the turret away and leaning down to rest her arms on the roof of the vehicle. It was time to get serious. Now may not have been the time, now may have been the time. She didn't know, but she really needed a proper talk, and she was going to ask Hunter again. "Hunter, really. I need to talk to you. Almost everyone has been leaving me in the dark. What is it? Is it because I'm British? Is it because my original mission was to bomb an apartment complex? What is it?" | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Belle 'Airtight' Valence
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Height: 5'10"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Innocent features cross Belle's face, and long, dark brown hair flows in straight lines down her back. Her blue eyes add depth into her face, just as her small, trimmed eyebrows and her small lips do. Her slim figure and small breasts fit perfect inside of a dress, and her arms and legs have been called sexy by several men (whom she now keeps away from).
Former occupation: RAF Fighter-bomber pilot, RAF Sergeant Aircrew
Current Job(s): Engineer/mechanic, Soldier, Pilot (if they ever come across aircraft)
Weapons of choice: Glock 17 Pistol, Combat/multirole knife
Gear of choice: (Weapons above), water canteen, Gas Mask (+3 Filters),
Items scored out have been used already.
Tin A:
2x Needles
2x protective Unlubricated
2x tampons
20x water-purification tablets (16x used)
cotton wool
Flint and steel
Fire making blocks
Tin B:
Sleeping bag
nylon cord
compass
candle
4x suspender clips
fishing kit
snare wire
wiresaw
razorblade
elastic band
instruction sheet
Tin C:
Foil blanket
Personal Items (if applicable): A picture of Belle and Ray, her gunner, and her first lover.
Bio: Belle joined the RAF as early as she could to escape her previous life of hate. There, in the RAF, she was respected and happy, easily gaining friends. After training, she was assigned with Ray Rolland on numerous combat and patrol missions. Everything was well, and one day, during their leave, Belle and Ray fell in love. Belle gained the nickname 'airtight' when she and Ray were shot down. Ray's cockpit module successfully ejected, however Belle's failed, and fell into the water of a nearby harbour. She was stuck underwater for a few hours before she was evacuated by a navy diver team, the only thing keeping her alive being the airtight seal of her cockpit module.
After numerous missions, the infected broke out. Aircraft were scrambled, sent everywhere across the world. Unfortunately, one day, the engines failed as Belle and Ray were going to destroy an apartment complex. Belle ejected just in time, however she was forced to watch in horror as her aircraft, as well as Ray, plunged into the building. When she landed, she took the survival kit from her chair, and was forced to survive, though she wished more to die.
Other: N/A |
1,085 | 16 | 6 | 2,448 | 78 | Striker
You're always hiding behind your so called goddess
So what you don't think that we can see your face
Resurrected back before the final fallen
I'll never rest until I can make my own way
I'm not afraid of fading
I stand alone
Feeling your sting down inside of me
I'm not dying for it
I stand alone
Everything that I believe is fading
I stand alone
Inside
I stand alone
The music blared in Strikers ears over the sound of the loud rumbling engine of the Harley Davidson he drove down the forest plagued road they found themselves on. It just barely blocked out the noise of the loud engine of the bike, but then again after almost three or more months on the road he had already gotten used to the sound of its engine. Some would say a motorcycle was a bad idea, especially given the zeds had good hearing, but truth be told they didn't really have the ability to think the sound of a motorcycle was anything good to eat. Which was a good thing in his book, they were able to remain somewhat safe at least when they were traveling, however that did not take away from the fact that the convoy of vehicles were all slowly growing into the final stages of breaking down. Striker would be a lier if he said he did not have high hopes when this convoy was first formed, they had thirty people, good vehicles, ammunition, food, water and most of all they had a plan. It went well at first being on the road, there was a form of happiness, safety almost traveling amongst the wide open freeways. But when the first deaths occurred only a week in, people started to realize that they were not as safe as they were making it out to be.
It was a nice gesture he supposed, travel with us and live among those who would protect you, but when people started taking it a bit too seriously and depended on you to keep them alive... it was bound to go bad. No matter what way you sliced it, everyone had to try and protect themselves, hell Strikers entire team, a team of ten highly trained men fell to a horde of these infected pieces of shit. He had been lucky that day himself, lucky he had gotten detained in the quarantine zone a bit longer then intended, by time he had arrived back at the Refuge Camp Donaldson the entirety of the survivors had been compromised. Nearest thing he could figure was that one of the survivors had been secretly infected inside the walls, and then started the epidemic all over again. It was not a pretty site to say the least, he had seen less body parts after a Jihad bombing in a public area.
Skin against skin blood and bone
You're all by yourself but you're not alone
You wanted in now you're here
Driven by hate
consumed by fear
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floor
Let the bodies hit the floooooooor
One - Nothing wrong with me
Two - Nothing wrong with me
Three - Nothing wrong with me
The rock music blasted through the headphones as Striker revved the black Harley and speed up a bit, he had always kept a distance away from the convoy, he was none to impressed with the driving of some of the others in the group, and the last thing he wanted was to be crippled by one of them. The last time a vehicle broke down they nearly drove someone off the road trying to stop the vehicle, it was what happened when you panicked a little bit too hard. Striker flew up a slight incline as the convoy came back into view, he had just been in time to see Hunter one of the younger men of the group kicking a smoking ambulance. Striker shook his head as Chop Suey by system of a down came on in the earphones that were attached to the piece of shit MP3 player he had. He had seen this dance before the last time a vehicle broke down, this was the scream at life moment. Striker pulled his motorcycle up slowly as he twisted the brakes and came to a silent stop, his boot hit the ground as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine clicked off. Hitting the kick stand with his foot Striker got off the motorcycle and took off his head phones just in time to see the group going in separate directions, looks like he had missed the meeting again. Striker looked around subtlety at the woods surrounding them on both sides, it was thick and hiding only god knew what, but it seemed quiet for now... little too quiet in his opinion but that wasn't all together bad now and days.
Striker clicked the holster of his Beretta preparing it just in case of a surprise attack as he approached the ambulance and looked at Hunter who looked like he wanted to set fire to the vehicle and be done with it.
"Well Hunter it seems that God has once again decided to rain down his blessings among us. I take it that the engine is reacting badly to zed flesh again huh? The smell alone is enough to make you think about momma cooking dinner at home."
Striker joked with about as much hilarity as a person delivering a sad eulogy at a funeral as he approached the ambulance and bent down to his knee taking a look. Yeah it was definitively overloaded with the greasy black charbroiled skin that was zed, leaning back up he shook his head. Seeing the foreign doctor nearby he walked over to him silently, to say he liked the man was an over statement, the dude just seemed to rub him wrong in a lot of ways. Striker always had an eye for trouble, and secretly he had been waiting for some shit to go down the last passing months with the man. However he had kept that to himself, mostly to keep the air clear of static and the fact that the man had done nothing to any of them. Leaning beside the man with his upper back half against the truck he spoke in a dulled down southern mixed deep voiced accent.
"Well I see it was your turn this time Doc, nothing a couple bandages and a shot of morphine couldn't cure... that is if we were lucky enough to come across any at this point. How is everything else holding up?"
Striker kept his eyes moving around the area silently, he kept his ears open for possible zeds, the last thing he wanted was to be caught with his compliment down. | Full Name:
Roland "Striker" Campbell
General Attributes
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 210 solid pounds
Eye color: blue
Hair color: dark brown
Physique: Muscular and fit
Tattoos: Has several tattoos covering his entire body including but not limited to the arms mid section, upper and lower back.
Normal Attire: Normal worn attire is a pair of black scuffed up military grade combat boots, a pair of worn and torn grey and light grey camo pants, a moddled green tank with a similiar colored T-shirt over the top, a black leather belt around his waist, a broken watch on his right arm, a black barret on his head and pair of sunglasses. An his dog tags which are always visible around his upper chest and a pair of fingerless black leather gloves.
Gender:
Male
Age:
39
Former occupation:
Marine in the United States Marine Corp
Current Job(s):
Officer, soldier with the protection detail, Scavenger when the need calls for it, Escort for search parties, Driver.
Modded Steyr Aug with attached flashlight, ACOG sight, and internal laser sight
Beretta M1911 with flashlight attachment
Gator tooth machete
Gear of choice:
Black Pack which holds the following items
1x Gas Mask for close encounter fights
1x Extra ammunition for his chosen weapons
1x Sharpening stone
1x Length of paracord
Personal Items:
These items also stored in his black pack
1x Carton of Marborlo blacks
1x Gold Lighter with lighter fluid
1x Extra set of clothes
A photo of himself and a young woman
His old military medals (golden oak leaves)
1x Military canteen
1x Pack of AA batteries
Bio:
Rolands life before the convoy is rather mysterious when it comes to what others know of it, Roland is not a man who freely talks of his past with people who are not considered really close to him. However from the time in which he joined the caravan what is known about him is that he was a military man, he was a Major in the United States Marine Corp. He comes from a small town down south located in Georgia and has practically served in the military since he was eighteen. Nothing is known about his family or at home life or even if he has a family or did have one before the start of the infection. Some have seen the picture he carries in his pack, but are not sure who the woman in the picture is with him. Roland has also enclosed that he was part of a special strike squad in the marines known as the Rough Necks and that is where he got his nickname/code name Striker because of his rather hard punches he can deliver.
Other:
N/A (If its okay I like to reveal history and such other things while I role play. If this is a problem I can add more to the Biography above. |
1,086 | 16 | 7 | 1,965 | 2,274 | Hunter wouldn't react too the comment, even with the belt fed machine gun pointed to him. "Do not play with that thing, fire arm safety rule one, do not point a fire arm at a person unless you plan to use it on them." He looked up and made eye contact with Belle and held up a small mechanism. "Plus the gun wont fire with out this, the firing mechanism is electric, this is more or less a sub trigger to keep the belt shooting." He went back to reading until Belle mentioned being out of the loop.
He looked up confused. "Not much loop to be left out of, we are short on food, water, bullets are fine for now but not sure for how long, gas is... low enough we may have to ditch the Tanker, maybe a few other cars, we really only need a few with the amount of people we have..." He smiled for a second. "Now for the British thing, don't worry about it, we have a German doctor, a mostly Irish guy, U.S. Soldiers, and an old guy from Texas, and a British air force pilot." He sighed. "Now about the apartment... I get it, you had a job, and personally I could give two craps about what you did before, you pull your weight here so who cares." He would go back to reading the map. "And most of us have had to do some bad things to survive."
He looked at the machine gun. "Now back to important issues, DO not play with the machine gun. I want to be able to trust I wont accidental get my head blown off if I put the firing mechanism back in. Also we may need to go on a scavenging run, we accidentally took a wrong road and we lost some time (Read the wrong map and is trying to correct it). We will be out of water in a few days, food shortly after that. There's a small town not far from here that we can check out, should have what we need to get going again." | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Hunter Monroe
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Hunter is a man with a reasonable build, he has long dark hair and dark eyes to match. He has decent strength to him but will use what combat skills he has to defend himself. He wears camouflage cargo pants with a T-shirt mainly. At times he will wear a jacket depending on the weather and a satchel holding misalliances supplies. He tends to wear different types of hats, but has a tendency to lose said hats. So they will change all the time.
Former occupation: Hunter worked in a grocery store for several years, though he did have some experience as an electrical Engineer beforehand.
Current Job(s): Hunter now works as an Officer, Scavenger, Soldier, but can be applied as an engineer.
Weapons of choice: 12 gauge Pump action or M4A1, M1911 Handgun, and a hatchet.
Gear of choice: Gas mask, Satchel, Flares or flare gun, Lighter, Small amount of copper wire.
Personal Items (if applicable): His personal items are not much, but he keeps a picture of his family tucked into his old wallet.
Bio:
When things started to go bad Hunter looted the store he worked at and loaded the supplies into his truck, he didn't make it far before he got into a car accident and was forced to walk. When he finally got to his parents home he spent weeks looking for them and the rest of his family, He found some of them but they were already dead. He also learned just how infectious the Virus was. When he found a working gas mask he refused to take it off unless he was in an isolated place with locked doors on all sides.
After a few weeks of traveling he came across some people who took him in. A few more people later and a small convoy was being formed. Now he acts as one of the officers who helps keep the convoy running. He will do anything and everything to try and pull his own weight.
Other: Hunter has picked up a collection of skills over the last few months, things including shooting, hand to hand, and how to "Pick a lock" Which normally involves destroying the door until it's open. |
1,087 | 16 | 8 | 419 | 519 | Jackmier watched as Striker strolled up and leaned next to him, giving a crude remark on his less than redeemable partaking in morphine and ether. Jackmier was open about his drug and alcohol intake, there was no point in hiding it. However, despite his rising annoyance, he kept his cocky smirk. "Aye, a nice shot of morphine is something I haven't had in awhile, nor have you I take it." He shot back, giving a larger grin towards Striker before continuing. "And in my opinion, machines are just humans with oil for blood, if I can fix blood clots I can fix an engine."
He pushed himself off the Ambulance and began unbuttoning his grey pinstripe jacket, if he was going to work on the charred remains of the Ambulance's engine, he was certainly not scuffing up his attire. "If you all want to get to that little town, I highly recommend you start moving now while the sunlight is on our side. Plus maybe some quiet will give me the focus I need to fix this damned machine." He stated flatly as he removed his tie, placing it on the hood of the Ambulance with his jacket.
Upon looking into the innards of the Ambulance the charred rotting hand came right into view... It was beautiful, the ashy, jagged lines of destroyed flesh, the once separated fingers coming together through melting heat and fusing into a singular black entity. It was the inevitable decay of death, mixed with the fires of modern technology... Art forged in flame. He couldn't help but give a grin as he scanned the rest of the engine. "The engine itself is intact, it's mostly overheating due to the zed's hand taking in heat that would normally be leaving the engine. It'll take a few hours, but I can safely remove it and keep the engine together probably. Only issue is I'm not entirely sure if we even have a full toolbox at this point." | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Jackmier 'Dark Doc' Karkaff
Gender: Male
Age: 53
Height: 5 foot 10 inches
Jackmier is a man who's face and appearance matches his personality. A scrawny, dare-say unhealthily thin man with rather greasy shoulder-length black hair. His bright green beady eyes gleam with ambition, jealousy, greed, and pride to boot.
Former occupation: Black Market Surgeon and Enforcer of the Russian Mafia
Current Job(s): Medical Staff with a meddling in Engineering (Machines are just humans with oil as blood, right?)
Weapons of choice: Makarov Pistol, Icepick, Scalpel
Gear of choice: First Aid Kit containing: Roll of Gauze, Painkillers, Bandaids, small vial of morphine, package of antibioitics
Small leather Doctor's Bag containing: Spare set of clothing, a pack of cigarettes, small bottle of Diethyl Ether, and a gas mask.
Personal Items (if applicable): In Jackmier's eyes, the past isn't worth remembering or keeping, only the present matters.
Jackmier tells no one of his life prior to the convoy, and some of the younger members of the convoy believe that perhaps there was no Jackmier prior to convoy. However, the reality of his past is far more twisted and contorted.
Born to a prostitute for a mother and a father associated with both the East German Stasi and the early Russian mafia. The little he ever saw of his father more often than not involved a short but effective beating and a new set of stitches. The little joy he found out of life came from the animals on his block, especially the stray cats. However, it wasn't the comfort of their purrs that Jackmier enjoyed, it was their yelps as he poked and prodded them with kitchen utensils he'd steal in the morning. Pain was a interest to the young Jackmier, the reactions of mammals to it was a beautiful and intense emotion. Often he'd record in his journal what types of pain animals reacted to the loudest, more violently, and what pain brought the quickest fatality.
As a youthful and equally twisted teen, Jackmier followed in his father's footsteps; first associating with the smaller street gangs and eventually joining his father at the meeting place of the budding Lazanov Family. This slow rise into organized crime gave the young Jackmier meaning, a purpose and place in the ever-changing world around him. He quickly found his place as a field medic and occasionally 'information gatherer' for the family. This was where he found his calling as a surgeon. At all hours of the night Jackmier would be woken by a loud bang on the door, often his own father, and would get straight to work on stitching a new knife-wound, or removing a bullet using only a pair of tweezers and a large bottle of alcohol to dull his patients pain.
Then the wall came down... Mass immigration out of the East and into Western Europe and North America, and the collapse of any uncorruptable law enforcement was a dream come true for the Russian mafia, including the Lazanovs. With a growing power-base at home, Don Gobarik Lazanov gained contacts in North America, specifically New York. With the mass immigration, plenty of illegal Europeans were able to enter the United States, including Jackmier. With a final, firm, handshake with his father he left Germany and Europe for the first and last time. One year later his father would be arrested during a heist gone south in Romania, with no contact again with his son.
Life in New York wasn't much different than East Berlin or any other city Jackmier had spent time in. He continued his life as a surgeon on the Black Market and continued his association with the Lazanov Family in both fixing (and causing) broken bones and limbs. However, in 1998 he encountered what would become his addiction... Ether. A short-lived drug of the 1970s, ether was often used as a general anesthetic in North America, and would become one of the items the now middle-aged Jackmier would use on his patients and himself.
Then the dead began to rise... Within days of what the religious and devout called the apocalypse New York City fell. Chaos filled the streets as both the undead and looters began hunting down those who hadn't fled the city in the initial breakdown. Only through his few remaining and living contacts did Jackmier get out of New York and travel north, towards Vermont. The rest, as they say, is history...
Other: Jackmier's long life within the mafia has given him a variety of skills ranging from drastic information 'gathering' skills, breaking and entering, and on-field medical assistance. |
1,088 | 16 | 9 | 1,097 | 889 | Georgia moved closer towards the group after surrounding the engine once she heard something about heading towards the town. "Some of us could always start walking there early to scout out."
It was a shit suggestion, could possibly lead to them being split up, but it was better than just sitting, her nerves starting to become restless. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Georgia "News" Newlyn
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Height: 5'6" (1.5 meters)
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Yes, I am aware that she is from the Walking Dead.
Georgia has a few week old bruises on her arms and chest that are prior-outbreak. She also has a few scars; one small strike below her left eyebrow and a jagged spot above her right knee, both about two years old. She has a tattoo that says "Dearest," (comma included like the introduction to a letter) in her girlfriend's, Bianca's, handwriting right above her right thigh.
Former occupation: She was just a poor college student on the run from her abusive girlfriend before it happened. She was majoring in veterinarian science.
Current Job(s): Clean fresh animal kills/tend to any animals (such as horses) that could be useful if they find any
Weapons of choice: Her father's army knife and an aluminum bat
Gear of choice: She has an abundance of doctor's mask she snagged from a vet office, both clean and dirty scalpels tucked safely and securely into her first aid kit, even a needle or two in there. Que-tips and a pocket knife also reside in the first aid kit.
Personal Items (if applicable): She has two bottles of water, one full and one almost empty. A few snacks she snagged from the airport. A picture of Bianca. Her wallet and dead cellphone. All are stored in a small pouch.
Bio: Georgia is from Pheonix, Arizona. She met Bianca in her last year of high school, and everything was nice. But Georgia had a falling out with her father and moved in with Bianca while she searched for colleges to enroll in. At first, it was nice. Living with your girlfriend has it's perks, but soon Bianca started physically abusing Georgia. Georgia quietly took the abuse until one day she took all the money and bought the cheapest ticket she could find that would distance the two over a few states. Only a few minutes after she got off the plane, broadcast warning about the outbreak started.
Other: The bruises and the scars are from Bianca if you haven't realized it yet. The falling out she had with her father was about her being bisexual. |
1,089 | 16 | 10 | 580 | 1,924 | Belle rolled her eyes and sighed. "Right. I understand. Us Brits are used to joking around on duty, unlike some people." She says apologetically. Well, I guess that answers that, she thinks, returning to her original duty of lookout. She wished she had a stick of gum to chew on, just to help her focus and add some flavour (quite literally).
Thoughts of Ray distracted her. She missed him, missed him a lot, and she began to tear up as she usually did. Though this time, it was more than tearing up. Talking about the apartment hadn't helped, had definitely not helped. She thought about it, thought about Ray, thought about the sight of the jet falling into the ground. "Oh god... Oh god.. Ray..." She whimpers, holding her head in her hands and sobbing into them. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Belle 'Airtight' Valence
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Height: 5'10"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Innocent features cross Belle's face, and long, dark brown hair flows in straight lines down her back. Her blue eyes add depth into her face, just as her small, trimmed eyebrows and her small lips do. Her slim figure and small breasts fit perfect inside of a dress, and her arms and legs have been called sexy by several men (whom she now keeps away from).
Former occupation: RAF Fighter-bomber pilot, RAF Sergeant Aircrew
Current Job(s): Engineer/mechanic, Soldier, Pilot (if they ever come across aircraft)
Weapons of choice: Glock 17 Pistol, Combat/multirole knife
Gear of choice: (Weapons above), water canteen, Gas Mask (+3 Filters),
Items scored out have been used already.
Tin A:
2x Needles
2x protective Unlubricated
2x tampons
20x water-purification tablets (16x used)
cotton wool
Flint and steel
Fire making blocks
Tin B:
Sleeping bag
nylon cord
compass
candle
4x suspender clips
fishing kit
snare wire
wiresaw
razorblade
elastic band
instruction sheet
Tin C:
Foil blanket
Personal Items (if applicable): A picture of Belle and Ray, her gunner, and her first lover.
Bio: Belle joined the RAF as early as she could to escape her previous life of hate. There, in the RAF, she was respected and happy, easily gaining friends. After training, she was assigned with Ray Rolland on numerous combat and patrol missions. Everything was well, and one day, during their leave, Belle and Ray fell in love. Belle gained the nickname 'airtight' when she and Ray were shot down. Ray's cockpit module successfully ejected, however Belle's failed, and fell into the water of a nearby harbour. She was stuck underwater for a few hours before she was evacuated by a navy diver team, the only thing keeping her alive being the airtight seal of her cockpit module.
After numerous missions, the infected broke out. Aircraft were scrambled, sent everywhere across the world. Unfortunately, one day, the engines failed as Belle and Ray were going to destroy an apartment complex. Belle ejected just in time, however she was forced to watch in horror as her aircraft, as well as Ray, plunged into the building. When she landed, she took the survival kit from her chair, and was forced to survive, though she wished more to die.
Other: N/A |
1,090 | 16 | 11 | 1,965 | 2,274 | Hunter climbed into the Humvee and attempted to comfort Belle. Which mostly was him awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. "It'll... Be okay, someday things... they will get better. When? I have no idea, if I knew that I'd say let go bunker down on an island for said amount of time and come back at the last minute, that is if I though we would all survive on an island with out killing each other or getting our selves killed." He stopped for a moment. "I'm sure Ray was an awesome person, I can imagine who ever he was he wouldn't want to see you like this, broken up over him. He would want you too keep fighting, he would want you to live a good life." He stopped and looked around thinking about his words. "Good for today's standards. I'm going to take a team into the town on the map, feel free to come if you want, if not feel free to keep playing with the machine gun until I fix the trigger mechanism."
Hunter stood up on top of the Humvee, and attempted to clear his throat. "Alright listen up people." You could tell he was nervous well he talked, public speaking was never a skill he was good at. "We are low on supplies, Everything from gas, to food, even water is at a rationing point." He looked at all the cars in the Convoy. "After this run we are going to ditch some of the cars, we don't have enough people for the cars we have and we could get around with less then half of these cars. Some we will keep because they are useful, others have outlived there usefulness." He took a deep breath, He was willing to get himself into conflict when ever the time called, but talking to a group of people scared the shit out of him. "I am going to take a team into a town near here that should have enough supplies to keep us going for a while. I don't plan to be gone over night but it may happen, it's happened in the past and we made the best of it." He looked as if he was about to pass out. "So... Who ever's going... Grab your weapons... Meet me by the tanker..." he stepped off the Humvee and grabbed his gear. After he grabbed it he started speed walking to the Tanker. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Hunter Monroe
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Hunter is a man with a reasonable build, he has long dark hair and dark eyes to match. He has decent strength to him but will use what combat skills he has to defend himself. He wears camouflage cargo pants with a T-shirt mainly. At times he will wear a jacket depending on the weather and a satchel holding misalliances supplies. He tends to wear different types of hats, but has a tendency to lose said hats. So they will change all the time.
Former occupation: Hunter worked in a grocery store for several years, though he did have some experience as an electrical Engineer beforehand.
Current Job(s): Hunter now works as an Officer, Scavenger, Soldier, but can be applied as an engineer.
Weapons of choice: 12 gauge Pump action or M4A1, M1911 Handgun, and a hatchet.
Gear of choice: Gas mask, Satchel, Flares or flare gun, Lighter, Small amount of copper wire.
Personal Items (if applicable): His personal items are not much, but he keeps a picture of his family tucked into his old wallet.
Bio:
When things started to go bad Hunter looted the store he worked at and loaded the supplies into his truck, he didn't make it far before he got into a car accident and was forced to walk. When he finally got to his parents home he spent weeks looking for them and the rest of his family, He found some of them but they were already dead. He also learned just how infectious the Virus was. When he found a working gas mask he refused to take it off unless he was in an isolated place with locked doors on all sides.
After a few weeks of traveling he came across some people who took him in. A few more people later and a small convoy was being formed. Now he acts as one of the officers who helps keep the convoy running. He will do anything and everything to try and pull his own weight.
Other: Hunter has picked up a collection of skills over the last few months, things including shooting, hand to hand, and how to "Pick a lock" Which normally involves destroying the door until it's open. |
1,091 | 16 | 12 | 1,097 | 889 | Georgia collected her things and headed towards the tanker to meet Hunter.
Hunter seemed like an okay guy, a reliable leader, she thought to herself. It was gonna be tough for them when either this world or a zombie took him down.
"Hey, I'm going." She strapped the sheith of her father's knife around her waist and gripped the base of the bat. "Anything particular we looking for? Or are we just grabbing what we seem fit to be useful?" | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Georgia "News" Newlyn
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Height: 5'6" (1.5 meters)
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Yes, I am aware that she is from the Walking Dead.
Georgia has a few week old bruises on her arms and chest that are prior-outbreak. She also has a few scars; one small strike below her left eyebrow and a jagged spot above her right knee, both about two years old. She has a tattoo that says "Dearest," (comma included like the introduction to a letter) in her girlfriend's, Bianca's, handwriting right above her right thigh.
Former occupation: She was just a poor college student on the run from her abusive girlfriend before it happened. She was majoring in veterinarian science.
Current Job(s): Clean fresh animal kills/tend to any animals (such as horses) that could be useful if they find any
Weapons of choice: Her father's army knife and an aluminum bat
Gear of choice: She has an abundance of doctor's mask she snagged from a vet office, both clean and dirty scalpels tucked safely and securely into her first aid kit, even a needle or two in there. Que-tips and a pocket knife also reside in the first aid kit.
Personal Items (if applicable): She has two bottles of water, one full and one almost empty. A few snacks she snagged from the airport. A picture of Bianca. Her wallet and dead cellphone. All are stored in a small pouch.
Bio: Georgia is from Pheonix, Arizona. She met Bianca in her last year of high school, and everything was nice. But Georgia had a falling out with her father and moved in with Bianca while she searched for colleges to enroll in. At first, it was nice. Living with your girlfriend has it's perks, but soon Bianca started physically abusing Georgia. Georgia quietly took the abuse until one day she took all the money and bought the cheapest ticket she could find that would distance the two over a few states. Only a few minutes after she got off the plane, broadcast warning about the outbreak started.
Other: The bruises and the scars are from Bianca if you haven't realized it yet. The falling out she had with her father was about her being bisexual. |
1,092 | 16 | 13 | 473 | 15 | Samuel let out a short shrill whistle as he caught sight of the decayed hand Jackmier found. That man always got a bit too much pleasure in these situations but Sam thought him decent enough, he might even say he liked him – but Sam never was a good judge of character. Now, when people were a little too perfect, that’s when Samuel became uneasy.
He turned his attention to the chaos that was erupting as everyone exited their vehicles. Georgia was acting tough as always, Belle was jerking about with that unique sense of humor of her’s, Striker always seemed ready to throw a punch, Hunter was trying to keep everything under control. Belle’s behavior worried Sam however as she went from joking to crying in just a minute. He looked up at her briefly in a concerned fashion. Instability was a frightening thing these days – but at the same time, who could claim they weren’t unstable these days?
When hunter began to make his announcement, Samuel listened silently, wiping away the sweat that was collecting on his forehead. Afterwards, he turned slowly and made his way to the semi, hoisted his frame into the vehicle and grabbed his ax along with a couple of plastic Walmart bags that were lying on the passenger's side floorboard. The plastic rustled noisily as the bags were crammed together and tied around his belt loop where a brown leather belt held the old farmer’s jeans up.
When he made it to the tanker where Hunter was waiting he inquired, “I’m willin’ to head out unless you’d rather I stay back and watch the vehicles.” He stopped to take a breath and survey the surroundings, squinting slightly as he did so. “Also, is the ambulance one of the lost causes we’re leavin’ or should I try ‘n help Jackmier clean out that gunk?” | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Samuel Fox Taylor (often called Sam)
Gender: Male
Age: 61
Height: 5’11”
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Samuel supports a large stocky frame with broad shoulders and a thick neck. While old age may have weakened him, his occupation has kept him strong. Muscle tone is clearly visible mostly on his arms but somewhat on his back and shoulders. He sports the distinctive dark farmer’s tan on his arms, and sock area. Excessive exposure to the sun and old age have carved countless line onto his face and a small bout of skin cancer that is visible but benign on his left forearm. His facial hair is usually kept at just a bit more than stubble but after the outbreak, he's been worried about it less and it's gone a bit more wild. Lastly, his left eye squinches a bit more than his left eye and the vision in this eye is less keen but his other eye usually works well enough for the tasks at hand.
Former occupation: Farmer
Current Job(s): Driver and scavenger (he was a truck driver during some of his younger years)
Weapons of choice: He was very close to his shotgun but with ammo running low, he now prefers to use an old brown ax from the farm due to its balances swing, the distance it keeps the undead, and its low chance of breaking. He also appreciates the other functions the ax can perform. However, he is not keen on the way that once you commit to a swing there is no turning back as well as the effort required to remove the weapon from an undead’s body.
Gear of choice: He managed to grab a few air filtration masks that he use to use when he worked with pesticides as well as a handful of bandannas in case something happened to his mask. He also carries with his a medium sized brown ax. He also carries around a large flask of whiskey that he's been nursing since the outbreak.
Personal Items (if applicable): He carries with him a small packet of mixed seeds in case the world ever goes back to normal or if he ever stays in one place long enough to grow them.
Bio: Samuel Fox Taylor was born and raised in Kansas to a poor family that were able to farm a slight excess of what they needed themselves. As soon as he could get his driver's license, he applied to work for a trucking company to transport goods across the unites states. He wanted to see the world, to get away from the small town he grew up in. He spent 7 years with the same company until he met Annie at a diner in Texas. He fell in love, got married, quit his job, and used his savings to purchase a small plot of land to settle down on and to farm.
It seems nothing good can last and eventually Samuel began to spend more time at the bar, coming home late, and spent very little time with his wife who began to resent him. He constantly begged for him to show that he loved her -- or any emotion at all for that matter. One day, after working in the fields, he went to the bar and came back to find that Annie, and all her belongings were gone.
Since then, Sam spent more and more time at the bar and his addiction began to develop further. Eventually he lost the land he had purchased and became homeless. Shortly after this, the outbreak occurred. It was difficult to believe at first. Since he lived in such a small town, it took a long while for the infection to reach them. It wasn't until a large herd of undead came travelling toward the town that everyone began to take things seriously. He spend a while on the run and eventually ran into the convoy. He hesitated joining initially but eventually decided this could be his last chance to do good by other people.
Other: He gets a little grumpy when he hasn't had alcohol in a while (but he tries to hide his problem). |
1,093 | 16 | 14 | 2,448 | 78 | Striker
Striker shook his head as he crossed his arms and watched the group start to assemble for the scavenging operation, honestly at this point he did not feel like he was going to even go. Striker did not mind Hunter, however when it came to leading he was a less then desirable choice. Striker had his share of ineffective leaders when this all started, Five star Generals barking out orders and the men dieing left and right trying to accomplish those orders. His team had been among those casualties, and he still got a sour taste in his mouth when he thought of the waste. An now he found himself with a rag tag bunch of survivors from every walk of life, a foreign doctor who is shifty at best, a bunch of children who were just barely grasping onto the situation, and old man who has one foot in the grave already, and an ex store clerk trying to keep them all together. Striker lifted his hand wiping the sweat from his brow, perhaps he was being way to critical here, to be fair they had survived this long and that was an indication right there that they are not going to just lay down and die. Maybe it wasn't the people but the world around him that was making him so sour, hell he barely spoke to any of the group, out of everyone he was probably the one they knew next to nothing about. Maybe he was just a bitter man coming of age, or maybe he was just sick and tired of trying to protect people when there was no more reason to be a soldier. Maybe... he just missed his family whom for all he knew were dead now. Striker leaned off the ambulance as he approached Hunter pack in hand, approaching the younger man he reached into the pack and removed and headset, one in which he had scavenged before he lost his team.
"I am going to stay behind and make sure the vehicles stay secured, were closer to the city now and it is possible we might find our share of marauders. I would rather not take a chance on losing what little we have to the sticky fingered bastards. Take this it has a decent charge left in it, I will have the other, if you run into trouble then contact me. Good luck as always Hunter."
Striker reached back down into his bag as he removed a second headset and put it in his ear, he then removed the gas mask just in case and wrapped it around his neck.
"I am going to set up a small perimeter, if anyone is staying behind feel free to lend a hand if you got one to spare." | Full Name:
Roland "Striker" Campbell
General Attributes
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 210 solid pounds
Eye color: blue
Hair color: dark brown
Physique: Muscular and fit
Tattoos: Has several tattoos covering his entire body including but not limited to the arms mid section, upper and lower back.
Normal Attire: Normal worn attire is a pair of black scuffed up military grade combat boots, a pair of worn and torn grey and light grey camo pants, a moddled green tank with a similiar colored T-shirt over the top, a black leather belt around his waist, a broken watch on his right arm, a black barret on his head and pair of sunglasses. An his dog tags which are always visible around his upper chest and a pair of fingerless black leather gloves.
Gender:
Male
Age:
39
Former occupation:
Marine in the United States Marine Corp
Current Job(s):
Officer, soldier with the protection detail, Scavenger when the need calls for it, Escort for search parties, Driver.
Modded Steyr Aug with attached flashlight, ACOG sight, and internal laser sight
Beretta M1911 with flashlight attachment
Gator tooth machete
Gear of choice:
Black Pack which holds the following items
1x Gas Mask for close encounter fights
1x Extra ammunition for his chosen weapons
1x Sharpening stone
1x Length of paracord
Personal Items:
These items also stored in his black pack
1x Carton of Marborlo blacks
1x Gold Lighter with lighter fluid
1x Extra set of clothes
A photo of himself and a young woman
His old military medals (golden oak leaves)
1x Military canteen
1x Pack of AA batteries
Bio:
Rolands life before the convoy is rather mysterious when it comes to what others know of it, Roland is not a man who freely talks of his past with people who are not considered really close to him. However from the time in which he joined the caravan what is known about him is that he was a military man, he was a Major in the United States Marine Corp. He comes from a small town down south located in Georgia and has practically served in the military since he was eighteen. Nothing is known about his family or at home life or even if he has a family or did have one before the start of the infection. Some have seen the picture he carries in his pack, but are not sure who the woman in the picture is with him. Roland has also enclosed that he was part of a special strike squad in the marines known as the Rough Necks and that is where he got his nickname/code name Striker because of his rather hard punches he can deliver.
Other:
N/A (If its okay I like to reveal history and such other things while I role play. If this is a problem I can add more to the Biography above. |
1,094 | 16 | 15 | 1,965 | 2,274 | Hunter took the head set. "I remember these, We had something similar when me and a few guys from the store got together for airsoft." he looked Striker in the eyes. "Thanks, We should be fine though, we have enough fire power to do some damage. And if not we can pull out." he stopped for a second. "If for any reason the Radios don't work there is a flaregun int he glovebox to the Humvee, If we see the flare we will come back. If we set off a flare gun from our end it means our radio isn't working and we can't get out on our own." He started walking to the truck. "Thanks for the radio though, it should help a lot more then a flare gun."
"We are primarily looking for water and food, if we find other useful things great. but food and water is our biggest concern." Hunter put his shotgun in the back of the larger pickup truck with the large storage on it. "I saw a small store on the map, it's a bit closer to the city limits then i'd like but it's close enough the looters should not have hit it too hard. That may be our best chance to find anything in this area."
The truck held 5 seats in it, Hunter climbed into the driver seat. "Alright, All aboard!" The kid in hunter enjoyed that. Once everyone that was going had there gear and weapons ready they went moving. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Hunter Monroe
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Hunter is a man with a reasonable build, he has long dark hair and dark eyes to match. He has decent strength to him but will use what combat skills he has to defend himself. He wears camouflage cargo pants with a T-shirt mainly. At times he will wear a jacket depending on the weather and a satchel holding misalliances supplies. He tends to wear different types of hats, but has a tendency to lose said hats. So they will change all the time.
Former occupation: Hunter worked in a grocery store for several years, though he did have some experience as an electrical Engineer beforehand.
Current Job(s): Hunter now works as an Officer, Scavenger, Soldier, but can be applied as an engineer.
Weapons of choice: 12 gauge Pump action or M4A1, M1911 Handgun, and a hatchet.
Gear of choice: Gas mask, Satchel, Flares or flare gun, Lighter, Small amount of copper wire.
Personal Items (if applicable): His personal items are not much, but he keeps a picture of his family tucked into his old wallet.
Bio:
When things started to go bad Hunter looted the store he worked at and loaded the supplies into his truck, he didn't make it far before he got into a car accident and was forced to walk. When he finally got to his parents home he spent weeks looking for them and the rest of his family, He found some of them but they were already dead. He also learned just how infectious the Virus was. When he found a working gas mask he refused to take it off unless he was in an isolated place with locked doors on all sides.
After a few weeks of traveling he came across some people who took him in. A few more people later and a small convoy was being formed. Now he acts as one of the officers who helps keep the convoy running. He will do anything and everything to try and pull his own weight.
Other: Hunter has picked up a collection of skills over the last few months, things including shooting, hand to hand, and how to "Pick a lock" Which normally involves destroying the door until it's open. |
1,095 | 16 | 16 | 1,097 | 889 | Georgia climbed into rge car, a dangerous question stirring in her stomach.
"What about people?" The question spilled over her lips with no remorse.
With their lack of supplies and broken ambulance, she knew they couldn't take on any lost souls. But even then, they could just kill someone. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Georgia "News" Newlyn
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Height: 5'6" (1.5 meters)
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Yes, I am aware that she is from the Walking Dead.
Georgia has a few week old bruises on her arms and chest that are prior-outbreak. She also has a few scars; one small strike below her left eyebrow and a jagged spot above her right knee, both about two years old. She has a tattoo that says "Dearest," (comma included like the introduction to a letter) in her girlfriend's, Bianca's, handwriting right above her right thigh.
Former occupation: She was just a poor college student on the run from her abusive girlfriend before it happened. She was majoring in veterinarian science.
Current Job(s): Clean fresh animal kills/tend to any animals (such as horses) that could be useful if they find any
Weapons of choice: Her father's army knife and an aluminum bat
Gear of choice: She has an abundance of doctor's mask she snagged from a vet office, both clean and dirty scalpels tucked safely and securely into her first aid kit, even a needle or two in there. Que-tips and a pocket knife also reside in the first aid kit.
Personal Items (if applicable): She has two bottles of water, one full and one almost empty. A few snacks she snagged from the airport. A picture of Bianca. Her wallet and dead cellphone. All are stored in a small pouch.
Bio: Georgia is from Pheonix, Arizona. She met Bianca in her last year of high school, and everything was nice. But Georgia had a falling out with her father and moved in with Bianca while she searched for colleges to enroll in. At first, it was nice. Living with your girlfriend has it's perks, but soon Bianca started physically abusing Georgia. Georgia quietly took the abuse until one day she took all the money and bought the cheapest ticket she could find that would distance the two over a few states. Only a few minutes after she got off the plane, broadcast warning about the outbreak started.
Other: The bruises and the scars are from Bianca if you haven't realized it yet. The falling out she had with her father was about her being bisexual. |
1,096 | 16 | 17 | 1,965 | 2,274 | Hunter sighed as he heard the question. "People are... We are limited on supplies, If they try to fight us then we will have to fight back. If we do not then it's like us killing our own. Hopefully it doesn't come to that." Hunter started the truck and got it driving. The store was close, shouldn't take too long as long a the roads were relatively clear. | Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Hunter Monroe
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Appearance (May be picture or written description): Hunter is a man with a reasonable build, he has long dark hair and dark eyes to match. He has decent strength to him but will use what combat skills he has to defend himself. He wears camouflage cargo pants with a T-shirt mainly. At times he will wear a jacket depending on the weather and a satchel holding misalliances supplies. He tends to wear different types of hats, but has a tendency to lose said hats. So they will change all the time.
Former occupation: Hunter worked in a grocery store for several years, though he did have some experience as an electrical Engineer beforehand.
Current Job(s): Hunter now works as an Officer, Scavenger, Soldier, but can be applied as an engineer.
Weapons of choice: 12 gauge Pump action or M4A1, M1911 Handgun, and a hatchet.
Gear of choice: Gas mask, Satchel, Flares or flare gun, Lighter, Small amount of copper wire.
Personal Items (if applicable): His personal items are not much, but he keeps a picture of his family tucked into his old wallet.
Bio:
When things started to go bad Hunter looted the store he worked at and loaded the supplies into his truck, he didn't make it far before he got into a car accident and was forced to walk. When he finally got to his parents home he spent weeks looking for them and the rest of his family, He found some of them but they were already dead. He also learned just how infectious the Virus was. When he found a working gas mask he refused to take it off unless he was in an isolated place with locked doors on all sides.
After a few weeks of traveling he came across some people who took him in. A few more people later and a small convoy was being formed. Now he acts as one of the officers who helps keep the convoy running. He will do anything and everything to try and pull his own weight.
Other: Hunter has picked up a collection of skills over the last few months, things including shooting, hand to hand, and how to "Pick a lock" Which normally involves destroying the door until it's open. |
1,097 | 17 | 0 | 1,381 | 499 | Kaito Mori and Haru Tsuyumi
Idle tapping rang out from underneath the small glass table, a somewhat short teenaged looking boy flicking his thumb rapidly back and forth across the sleek display of the smart phone in his hands. A brown cardboard cup with steam rising from it's ajar lid sitting on the top of the glass a few inches away from him. A low yawn escaped the black haired young man's wide mouth as he tilted his head over the backrest to let his glasses slide back up his nose. The squeak of a sliding glass door distracting him and making his head turn to the right, hair flopping into his mouth and making his speech slightly muffled. "There's teh man of the howr. How'd theaf firft day go?"
A stifled chuckle escaped the apron wearing young man that stood awkwardly in the doorway, a leather backpack slung around his shoulder rustling slightly as he stepped towards the empty seat opposite of the hooded man and dropped his bag down next to it. "Hey Kaito...It was uh...It was ok. I think I already screwed up royally though."
Spitting the random strands of hair out of his mouth, Kaito sat up straight and casually pushed the steaming coffee cup towards his friend, before crossing his arms and smiling. "Nah. You couldn't of messed up that bad Haru. You're being too hard on yourself again. What did you do? Drop a tray?"
Grasping the offered coffee and taking a small sip, the messy haired server shook his head. "Thanks. And no, I didn't drop a tray, I sort of...accidentally tripped my manager into the condiment table because I spilt some water on the floor." As he said this, the dark eyed young man took another sip and glanced into space, a guilty frown on his face.
Tilting his head slightly, Kaito pointed a finger. "But was he hurt that bad? It's not like you crippled the guy."
Shaking his head lightly again, Haru met his friend's brown gaze. "Well, no. He was ok. Or at least, he made it out that he was ok. Everyone was laughing at him, even the customers, and when he turned around to confront to me, I thought I was gonna get yelled at and fired on the spot, but he actually started laughing along with them. It was really confusing; he acted like he wasn't even mad at me."
A light smirk played across Kaito's pale face as he tucked his phone into his sweater's front pocket. "It sounds like you got a boss with a sense of humour." His left brow raised up as he went on. "Did he talk to you about it after or anything like that?"
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the server spoke quietly as his eyes drifted down to his beverage. "Uh...No. No he just told me to be more careful and left me alone for the rest of the day."
The longer haired man's hands went up in the air as he laughed. "Then c'mon, stop worrying about it! You're fine. People get that new guys mess up sometimes, so your job's safe. Chill."
The tight grip that Haru held on his cup began to soften a bit as his face turned back up to Kaito's to shoot a tiny grin. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks Kaito I...I've kinda been bored lately. I'm surprised you actually showed, usually no one comes to visit the me here because well...you know. It freaks everyone out. I've been having a hard time adjusting to living so close to their home turf myself. I see them on almost every other street. But, I guess it's better than living in any of the Quarantined Wards..."
Brushing a hand through his bangs, the spectacled teen pushed his fist into his palm. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't let a Special Class Dove stop me from coming to visit you. And if one of them tried to? They'd be in for one hell of a dance."
Haru's face had brightened up significantly since he had sat down. Taking another sip of the coffee in his hand, he stood up and gestured out to the quiet side street in front of the shop. "I wouldn't doubt it. So uh...Did you want to come see my new place? It's not that far from here, and it's actually pretty quie....."
Stretching his arms out above his head and closing his eyes, the blue hooded young man groaned. "'Quiet'? I'm surprised you even found a place like that around here. Usually they're-Huh? Haru?" Kaito's slightly blurred gaze refocused on his friend now standing unevenly across from him. The hairs on Haru's arms standing up straight as his eyes widened, and he stood stiff as a board. A look of concern washed over as he pushed his chair back and stood up to outstretch his hand. "Haru, you alright man? Talk to me. What's wrong?" Checking over his shoulder, the spectacled teen's eyes scanned the street below. Did he see something down there? A Dove maybe?
Kaito's confusion was soon answered by a choked yell crawling out of his friend's throat. Haru's arms flew to grip his chest as he stumbled around the porch, falling back over the chair he'd just stood up from and hitting the wood floor with a hard smack.
"HARU!"
Vaulting over the coffee table with unusual speed, the panicked young man got down on knees next to the fallen server. Whose eyes had started to glaze over as he stared off into space, breaths coming out ragged and weak as he continued to grip his dirty white shirt. Kaito wasted no time in batting away his friend's hands and pressing his palm to Haru's chest in attempts to compress. "No no no! Don't do this! Haru man, come on! Get up!"
The shouting and commotion from the open air porch was beginning to attract attention. The bystanders on the street below erupting into a confused panic.
"Is something going on? I heard screaming up on the balcony..."
"There was definitely shouting! Someone call an ambulance! Check on them!"
"Hold on up there! We're coming up and getting help!"
The rapid sounds of hurried footsteps crowding into the coffee shop's main floor simply faded into the white noise ringing around in Kaito's mind. Sweat pouring down his face as he grit his teeth and kept up his impromptu CPR, keeping his gaze locked with Haru's bloodshot, empty stare.
"DAMN IT HARU! COME ON! PLEASE! HARU! WAKE UP!"
One week later...
"...In other news, Shi no te is quickly losing it's hold on the 2nd Ward. Patients seeking treatment in hospital for the deadly virus are making steady recovers from the brink of death in the care of the talented nurses and doctors brought in from Kyoto, and of course, the effective use of vaccination done by many public businesses in the Ward. One hospital has also made a personal thank you to the CCG Investigators that defended the Ward while..."
A large plasma TV behind an electronic shop's glass display blared the morning news out from a set of large speakers set up on both of it's sides. A few people in the flood of foot traffic slowing down slightly to turn their heads towards the footage of two suited men with briefcases shaking the hands of a white coated woman, before simply moving on and being carried by the flow of bodies. Many of the well dressed worker's in the crowd wearing thin paper masks over their mouths and noses, with a few tissues sticking out of their pockets.
They keep saying everything's getting better....That the flu's going to be nothing but history by the end of summer....But are they really telling the truth? Ghouls are still dying by the hundreds....humans are still dying by the thousands....I wouldn't call that 'recovery' at all. Not by a long shot.
Across the street on the patio of a cafe, a blue hooded man barely even looking over the rim of the of his cardboard cup as he took a sip. Soon crumpling the empty drink cup and tossing it over his shoulder and into a nearby trash bin stacked up to overflowing with the things. His chair swaying heavily as he pushed back to put his worn sneakers up on the table and go back to staring down at the small tablet in his hands. The screen displaying an article involving the current rate of Ghoul crime, and the slow climb of incidents since the start of the virus pandemic.
I still don't know shit...No one does. And if I don't figure something out soon, someone's gonna pull another dumb stunt that'll make everything harder. I love big cities. I really do. | Kaito Mori
"I was never a fan of standing around. Why waste the only life you're given by doing nothing you know? But this flu...And everyone just dropping dead...It makes me feel useless. I'm still gonna see what I can do. It might take a few holes in my gut, but hey, no pain no gain."
Appearance: Kaito has medium length, usually straight black hair that occasionally hangs over his face. His features, such as his darker brown eyes and short nose, are usually behind a pair of sleek glasses with a thin metal frame. His shorter stature of 5'6", and his usual attire of a thick blue hoodie with clear signs of age and stains, making him appear younger than he actually is.
Species: Ghoul
Mask: The mask that Kaito wears when going out 'shopping' is based off of the character Grey Fox from the video game Metal Gear Solid, a game that both he and his brother played quite a bit in their childhood. The mask itself was crafted by Junki after he picked up a bit of metal work skills from apprenticing with a family friend. The mask itself is made from durable steel, bent to shape fitted with soft foam on it's inside. A wire mesh covers the back of the 'T' shaped cut out in the mask's center, making visibility a bit of an issue at first, but the lax teen has since adjusted to the spotty vision.
Due to the mask's single switch activated orange LED 'eye' in the middle of the wire mesh, the CCG has labelled it's wearer 'Cyclops'. Though those who are a bit more keen on the mask's inspirations have simply took to calling it's wearer, 'Grey Fox'.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Personality: Kaito is a rather lax, go-with-the-flow kind of teen. He tries to make light of most situations, and does his best to see the good side of things. Though he can be a bit stubborn or aloof when someone talks down on his beliefs, he mostly keeps his problems to himself, not wanting to drag anyone down with his issues.
The teen is also always striving to do things that no one has tried before. Risk taking being one of his defining points. This sort of rash mindset developing due to his distaste of inaction, and doubt of his parents teachings to avoid all confrontation even if it means letting someone else take the fall. That said, he doesn’t go out of his way to make enemies with groups such as the CCG, other Ghouls, or humans if he can avoid it. When he does don his mask to go out
Biography: Young Kaito was born to a loving mother, Anzu, and a good natured father, Bunta. He was the second child of the Mori family, being also the brother of the Mori’s first child, Junki. The family lived in relative peace in the city of Takayama, in a small townhouse on the edge of the city. Bunta made a living as a carpenter in the area, taking after his own father and up keeping the many historic buildings in the area. While Anzu, took her time in taking care of their two boys at home and putting them through a basic home school education.
The Moris were always extremely sensitive and paranoid about their Ghoul habits. Both mother and father drilling young Kaito and Junki since birth about why they were different from other kids in the neighbourhood, and to never speak a word about their family’s ‘different lifestyle’. At first, the brothers were confused as to what their parents were so worried about. Other kids ate meat, so what was so different about them other than the fact that was the only thing they ate? It wasn’t until they were told where their meals came from, and what they were capable of that they began to understand, and even become frightened by their parents lessons in Kaito’s case.
Both Anzu and Bunta felt guilty, but did what they could to make their children more comfortable with their nature. Teaching them how to control hunger, their physical strength and agility, and of course, in the event of an emergency, showing them how to weaponize their Kagune and their bodies to be able to defend themselves if escape from the scene was impossible.
In between their lessons and meals, Kaito and his older brother found leisure in the human aspects of life. The both of them getting hooked on media such as video games, anime, and even some aspects of western culture due to a local book store stocking translations of American comic books. The younger of the two especially enjoyed stories involving superheroes, relating their inhuman powers and noble feats to what he could be capable of. The dark haired boy’s hopes of the future began to be filled with dreams of being a superhero; using his great physical abilities and ‘red magic arms’ to protect his friends and family, as well as other Ghouls from the ‘bird guys’.
However, Kaito’s ambitions were quickly shattered once he excitedly revealed to his parents his plan despite Junki telling him to keep it to himself. Their father giving them an intense scolding about the dangers of getting involved in affairs they didn’t need to, and began to monitor what the children read and played to prevent any further ‘dangerous thinking’.
Though he did not dare show it in the eyes of his parents, Kaito began to feel a bit of resentment for the family’s morals. He was frustrated that instead of treating their Ghoul abilities like a gift that could be used for the greater good, that they were being treated like something to keep locked away, and that even if they were able to do something to protect a random stranger, attempting it would be foolish.
Years passed, the nerdy boy growing up into a nerdy young man alongside his brother, ahead of him in age by three years. Kaito began to forget about his hidden dreams of being a Ghoul superhero, but never let go of the fond memories he and Junki shared with the comics and media involving them. His personal interest in TV shows and movies leading to him becoming fascinated in the more real aspects behind their production. Thus he began to make amature props based off of fictional franchises in his free time, with Junki and his father’s occasional assistance. Kaito’s knack for building leading to his father to encouraging him to also join in his carpentry endeavours, but the teen turned him down, and revealed something that shocked the entire household.
Kaito wanted to move away. To Tokyo, specifically. While he was happy with his simple life living with his parents and his part-time job at a local grocery, he felt that he could do more with his life if he received a proper education. Thus, using money that the family had kept saved for the kids futures, and after a heartfelt goodbye and a gifted mask from his brother, Kaito moved to a small apartment building in Tokyo’s 20th ward, Nerima, to attend the Design course at Nihon University. While still keeping his hobbies on the side, scavenging popular suicide sites for food, and making a few friends both human and Ghoul, things seem to be going well for the aspiring prop maker.
That is, until the flu hit.
Rating: C
RC Type: Ukaku
Kagune: Kaito's Kagune usually manifests itself as two red, smooth, wide arms with rows of sharp 'fingers' at the end of them. Years of private practice at mastering the many tricks and abilities his Kagune has to offer, he's able to crystallize the two extra limbs and rapid fire projectiles from their endings. He’s also able to sharpen the right side ‘arm’ into a blade-like appendage to assist in close quarters.
Delsin Grey
"Japan...I've read a lot about it's culture and it's history while planning for this exchange program. In general, media is a big focus there, and it's history has mostly kept the people to themselves on that one land mass....But there's another fact that came up multiple times while I was researching the country. Specifically about it's capital city. Ghouls, a species extremely close to humans on a physical, but not a biological level, have a higher population density in Tokyo than the rest of the country. With their diet, it would make sense for why they thrive there, but there's still a few things I want to know. The articles can only tell me so much; if possible, I'd like to find out many things for myself in my time there, but that flu likely isn't going to make it easy.
Appearance: Delsin is a 5’ 4”, slightly pale skinned teen. He wears his semi long black hair parted to the left, has green colored eyes, and smaller features such as his ears that are usually hidden by straight hair clumps. The boy’s usual attire includes a grey turtle neck sweater, thick blue jeans, and a pair of worn black snow boots.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Personality: Delsin is a bit of a quiet guy. He mostly keeps to himself unless someone actively engages him. Though a lot of people mistake this for shyness, it is more so that he doesn’t feel the need to talk with others if it has the chance to lead to him being distracted from a current goal. Delsin ‘overthinks’ many things in some regard, his family and friends have needed to tell him on multiple occasions to slow down or take a break, but to Delsin that would mean losing out on opportunities.
The way he thinks it, is that if he manages to set up and plan his life as soon as he can while still young, he can enjoy the rest of it with less stress and worry. Despite his rather distant view on most around him, Delsin still cares for the people close to him and will put them above his own goals without hesitation if there is a reason to. His friends have also been slowly making him a bit more lax, with Delsin being able to find time to do more leisurely activities.
Backstory: Being raised in the north western provinces of Canada, Delsin lives in a world of little to no change. The city he lives is a community of only a few thousand people, where excitement, public events, and even Ghouls are almost unheard of. He lived a rather simple life; being raised by middle aged mother and father along with his younger brother Trevor in a middle class neighbourhood. His determined and focused personality allowed him to excel in school and impress both his parents and teachers alike.
Though he mostly revolved his life around school work even in his early ages, he managed to make a few friends. One such friend was a boy named Carrick Giro, a care free humorous boy that had moved there from a province in the south eastern part of the country. Carrick was able to show the boring student how to entertain himself with things other than school and work such as social media, video games, and music, though he also unfortunately got Delsin involved in a few fights between other kids, forcing the two to learn how to throw a punch or two.
After graduating from High School with grades peaking in the low-to-mid 90s, the focused teen turned his attention to further education. Landing himself in a rather vast and active school in a much bigger city, Delsin went to school for half a year before his interests were peaked by an exchange student program offered by a visiting a Japanese school. Seeing the chance to study abroad as a new opportunity, Delsin decided to take the offer after two years of planning, and unfortunately had the timing to land in Tokyo during the Shi no te pandemic. |
1,098 | 17 | 1 | 1,381 | 499 | ?
"You know, you picked a really shitty time to come to Tokyo kid."
The rather un-amused cab driver commented drily as he brought the cigarette to his lips, and took a quick puff. His glazed brown eyes glancing up at the rear-view mirror at his rather quiet passenger leaning his arm out of the slightly ajar window. The black haired young man with a large white duffel leaning against his thigh sighed at the comment. "I've noticed."
The cabbie with his worn baseball cap narrowed his eyes at the grey sweater wearing boy for another few moments, before leaning his arm out the window and tapping the cig a few times. "So what would compel a young guy like you to come to a flu riddled shithole at a time like this?"
Sitting back in the old leather seat, the young man's short inky black hair slightly blew in the breeze from the window as he put his knee on the passenger seats back rest. "An exchange student program at one of the collages in this Ward. I seen it advertised during a school fair, and I got interested. Japan's culture is radically different than the west's, with an even bigger focus on media. I seen it as a chance to learn a few things." Rolling his eyes slightly, he frowned. "I'd also been planning this for two years, it's not like I could have just cancelled or re-scheduled now.
The cab driver chuckled, sounding more like a frog croaking than an actual human laugh. "You got dedication, I'll give you that. Your Japanese ain't that bad either. You haven't called yourself or me an asshole yet. And you're a lucky one; 20th ward's not flu central just yet, and the place's got a history of being pretty quiet. Well, actually up until around two years ago it was quiet, but that's ancient history now."
The travelling student's jade gaze travelled to the traffic ridden street ahead of them, then to the just as crowded sidewalk. "You mean the Ghouls."
Nodding, the yellow coated man tapped the worn steering wheel with his knuckle. "Flesh eating, blood drinking demon spawn that look like just another guy, that's them. They seem to have some sort of thing for this city, cause they're even bigger pricks here than in the rest of the country. True fact. Make sure you don't get your head bit off kid. Keep your hockey stick handy so you'll be able to fight em off. Heh."
Rolling his eyes at the comedic jab at his nationality, the jade eyed young man watched as the taxi soon came to a slow halt near the sidewalk. Gripping the strap of the duffel, he quickly opened up the door and stepped out into the crowded walkway. A rap on window of the taxi made him glance behind him. The front side window rolling down slightly to the sound of the cabbie's voice. "Hey kid, I never got your name. Mine's Nachi."
Nodding promptly, the black haired student spoke up. "It's Delsin."
A thumbs up was seen from inside the window for brief moment, before it rolled back up and the taxi slowly chugged away. Turning to look left and right at the ever moving mass of people, Delsin smiled slightly and looked down at his phone, bring up a GPS map. Well, time to find the school. | Kaito Mori
"I was never a fan of standing around. Why waste the only life you're given by doing nothing you know? But this flu...And everyone just dropping dead...It makes me feel useless. I'm still gonna see what I can do. It might take a few holes in my gut, but hey, no pain no gain."
Appearance: Kaito has medium length, usually straight black hair that occasionally hangs over his face. His features, such as his darker brown eyes and short nose, are usually behind a pair of sleek glasses with a thin metal frame. His shorter stature of 5'6", and his usual attire of a thick blue hoodie with clear signs of age and stains, making him appear younger than he actually is.
Species: Ghoul
Mask: The mask that Kaito wears when going out 'shopping' is based off of the character Grey Fox from the video game Metal Gear Solid, a game that both he and his brother played quite a bit in their childhood. The mask itself was crafted by Junki after he picked up a bit of metal work skills from apprenticing with a family friend. The mask itself is made from durable steel, bent to shape fitted with soft foam on it's inside. A wire mesh covers the back of the 'T' shaped cut out in the mask's center, making visibility a bit of an issue at first, but the lax teen has since adjusted to the spotty vision.
Due to the mask's single switch activated orange LED 'eye' in the middle of the wire mesh, the CCG has labelled it's wearer 'Cyclops'. Though those who are a bit more keen on the mask's inspirations have simply took to calling it's wearer, 'Grey Fox'.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Personality: Kaito is a rather lax, go-with-the-flow kind of teen. He tries to make light of most situations, and does his best to see the good side of things. Though he can be a bit stubborn or aloof when someone talks down on his beliefs, he mostly keeps his problems to himself, not wanting to drag anyone down with his issues.
The teen is also always striving to do things that no one has tried before. Risk taking being one of his defining points. This sort of rash mindset developing due to his distaste of inaction, and doubt of his parents teachings to avoid all confrontation even if it means letting someone else take the fall. That said, he doesn’t go out of his way to make enemies with groups such as the CCG, other Ghouls, or humans if he can avoid it. When he does don his mask to go out
Biography: Young Kaito was born to a loving mother, Anzu, and a good natured father, Bunta. He was the second child of the Mori family, being also the brother of the Mori’s first child, Junki. The family lived in relative peace in the city of Takayama, in a small townhouse on the edge of the city. Bunta made a living as a carpenter in the area, taking after his own father and up keeping the many historic buildings in the area. While Anzu, took her time in taking care of their two boys at home and putting them through a basic home school education.
The Moris were always extremely sensitive and paranoid about their Ghoul habits. Both mother and father drilling young Kaito and Junki since birth about why they were different from other kids in the neighbourhood, and to never speak a word about their family’s ‘different lifestyle’. At first, the brothers were confused as to what their parents were so worried about. Other kids ate meat, so what was so different about them other than the fact that was the only thing they ate? It wasn’t until they were told where their meals came from, and what they were capable of that they began to understand, and even become frightened by their parents lessons in Kaito’s case.
Both Anzu and Bunta felt guilty, but did what they could to make their children more comfortable with their nature. Teaching them how to control hunger, their physical strength and agility, and of course, in the event of an emergency, showing them how to weaponize their Kagune and their bodies to be able to defend themselves if escape from the scene was impossible.
In between their lessons and meals, Kaito and his older brother found leisure in the human aspects of life. The both of them getting hooked on media such as video games, anime, and even some aspects of western culture due to a local book store stocking translations of American comic books. The younger of the two especially enjoyed stories involving superheroes, relating their inhuman powers and noble feats to what he could be capable of. The dark haired boy’s hopes of the future began to be filled with dreams of being a superhero; using his great physical abilities and ‘red magic arms’ to protect his friends and family, as well as other Ghouls from the ‘bird guys’.
However, Kaito’s ambitions were quickly shattered once he excitedly revealed to his parents his plan despite Junki telling him to keep it to himself. Their father giving them an intense scolding about the dangers of getting involved in affairs they didn’t need to, and began to monitor what the children read and played to prevent any further ‘dangerous thinking’.
Though he did not dare show it in the eyes of his parents, Kaito began to feel a bit of resentment for the family’s morals. He was frustrated that instead of treating their Ghoul abilities like a gift that could be used for the greater good, that they were being treated like something to keep locked away, and that even if they were able to do something to protect a random stranger, attempting it would be foolish.
Years passed, the nerdy boy growing up into a nerdy young man alongside his brother, ahead of him in age by three years. Kaito began to forget about his hidden dreams of being a Ghoul superhero, but never let go of the fond memories he and Junki shared with the comics and media involving them. His personal interest in TV shows and movies leading to him becoming fascinated in the more real aspects behind their production. Thus he began to make amature props based off of fictional franchises in his free time, with Junki and his father’s occasional assistance. Kaito’s knack for building leading to his father to encouraging him to also join in his carpentry endeavours, but the teen turned him down, and revealed something that shocked the entire household.
Kaito wanted to move away. To Tokyo, specifically. While he was happy with his simple life living with his parents and his part-time job at a local grocery, he felt that he could do more with his life if he received a proper education. Thus, using money that the family had kept saved for the kids futures, and after a heartfelt goodbye and a gifted mask from his brother, Kaito moved to a small apartment building in Tokyo’s 20th ward, Nerima, to attend the Design course at Nihon University. While still keeping his hobbies on the side, scavenging popular suicide sites for food, and making a few friends both human and Ghoul, things seem to be going well for the aspiring prop maker.
That is, until the flu hit.
Rating: C
RC Type: Ukaku
Kagune: Kaito's Kagune usually manifests itself as two red, smooth, wide arms with rows of sharp 'fingers' at the end of them. Years of private practice at mastering the many tricks and abilities his Kagune has to offer, he's able to crystallize the two extra limbs and rapid fire projectiles from their endings. He’s also able to sharpen the right side ‘arm’ into a blade-like appendage to assist in close quarters.
Delsin Grey
"Japan...I've read a lot about it's culture and it's history while planning for this exchange program. In general, media is a big focus there, and it's history has mostly kept the people to themselves on that one land mass....But there's another fact that came up multiple times while I was researching the country. Specifically about it's capital city. Ghouls, a species extremely close to humans on a physical, but not a biological level, have a higher population density in Tokyo than the rest of the country. With their diet, it would make sense for why they thrive there, but there's still a few things I want to know. The articles can only tell me so much; if possible, I'd like to find out many things for myself in my time there, but that flu likely isn't going to make it easy.
Appearance: Delsin is a 5’ 4”, slightly pale skinned teen. He wears his semi long black hair parted to the left, has green colored eyes, and smaller features such as his ears that are usually hidden by straight hair clumps. The boy’s usual attire includes a grey turtle neck sweater, thick blue jeans, and a pair of worn black snow boots.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Personality: Delsin is a bit of a quiet guy. He mostly keeps to himself unless someone actively engages him. Though a lot of people mistake this for shyness, it is more so that he doesn’t feel the need to talk with others if it has the chance to lead to him being distracted from a current goal. Delsin ‘overthinks’ many things in some regard, his family and friends have needed to tell him on multiple occasions to slow down or take a break, but to Delsin that would mean losing out on opportunities.
The way he thinks it, is that if he manages to set up and plan his life as soon as he can while still young, he can enjoy the rest of it with less stress and worry. Despite his rather distant view on most around him, Delsin still cares for the people close to him and will put them above his own goals without hesitation if there is a reason to. His friends have also been slowly making him a bit more lax, with Delsin being able to find time to do more leisurely activities.
Backstory: Being raised in the north western provinces of Canada, Delsin lives in a world of little to no change. The city he lives is a community of only a few thousand people, where excitement, public events, and even Ghouls are almost unheard of. He lived a rather simple life; being raised by middle aged mother and father along with his younger brother Trevor in a middle class neighbourhood. His determined and focused personality allowed him to excel in school and impress both his parents and teachers alike.
Though he mostly revolved his life around school work even in his early ages, he managed to make a few friends. One such friend was a boy named Carrick Giro, a care free humorous boy that had moved there from a province in the south eastern part of the country. Carrick was able to show the boring student how to entertain himself with things other than school and work such as social media, video games, and music, though he also unfortunately got Delsin involved in a few fights between other kids, forcing the two to learn how to throw a punch or two.
After graduating from High School with grades peaking in the low-to-mid 90s, the focused teen turned his attention to further education. Landing himself in a rather vast and active school in a much bigger city, Delsin went to school for half a year before his interests were peaked by an exchange student program offered by a visiting a Japanese school. Seeing the chance to study abroad as a new opportunity, Delsin decided to take the offer after two years of planning, and unfortunately had the timing to land in Tokyo during the Shi no te pandemic. |
1,099 | 17 | 2 | 2,616 | 346 | Mizushima Natsuko
It was a fair enough day outside - a high sun slowly drifting towards the western horizon with sparse clouds spread about the blue, with a warm if not slightly hot afternoon high to accompany the cicada's cries. For the two sitting just outside the back door to Ryuu Motors - the poor old thing, clad in rust and labelled "Emergency Exit - will sound alarm": the very same alarm that hasn't been working since it sustained collateral damage in the Owl suppression operation - the warm sunbeams were a little uncomfortable, granted, but a welcome change from the bland interior of the workshop. Natsuko - with her hair in a ponytail, a tanktop that showed the definition about her collarbones and the muscular albeit feminine tone of her arms, with her jumpsuit worn up to the waist before being tied off by the sleeves - sat on an upturned milk crate, leaning casually back against the wall with a smoke-trailing cigarette between the index and middle finger of her right hand. To her left, on the other side of the cheap outdoor table, was a muscular middle-age man sitting on a metal folding chair. A pair of sunken eyes sat between his salt-and-pepper short back-and-sides hair and a well-groomed mustache, surrounded all the while by relatively slightly severe wrinkles; he too had a cigarette between his fingers. A zip-lock bag with sparse bread crumbs atop and an empty container of take-out Chinese food sat on the table between them.
"So how are we going to tackle that Prius?" asks Natsuko, as she lifts her cigarette towards her mouth. Her fingers - recently cleaned, although with oil well-embedded beneath her short fingernails from the days work - puts the cigarettes between her lips, where its tip comes to glow a vague orange. The middle aged man, Yuudai, let out a vague scoff.
"The lady who drives it is too old and too far gone to be driving a stick... she needs an automatic. The boss is going to ask around and see if he can get the gears we're looking for but until then, we'll try to get the Vitz out this afternoon. God knows the old crone can't afford a new gearbox..."
"What's wrong with the Vitz?" asks back Natsuko, before she blows the held back smoke partially out of her nose and partially out of her mouth.
"Just need to finish off the service. It looks pretty good, actually." he explained, between drags on his cigarette. Natsuko let out a scoff.
"We'll have it done by two-thirty," she came back. Yuudai let out a vague, affirmative 'hmph'.
Natsuko reached into her pocket, fishing about for a moment before producing a smartphone. She pressed on the side to bring the screen to life, where she noted the time: 1:24, 6 minutes to go. She thumbed over to the messages application to type:
"i'm going to get something to eat tonight in 3rd tonight, less people with the flu. u in? there's a race going from 4th to 1st at 23:00 as well if ur down, but i'm sure as hell not going racing into 1st alone - plus PK will b in on it." After adding an irritated emoji to accent the mention of PK, she pressed up at the recipient field to select the familiar name: Ryuu Ouma. With that, she hit send. | Full Name:
Fukui Tsubame.
Appearance:
Tsubame stands at a meager 5 feet and 2 inches with a clear complexion and a build sitting somewhere between slim and average. Her hair has been bleached white and comes in a wide assortment of styles, varying every day in the week in no discernible pattern. She has vibrant, bright emerald green eyes and delicate facial features. More often than not she's wearing band-aids and gauze about her body, with her energetic and brimming personality often getting her into trouble.
Species:
Human.
Age:
19.
Gender:
Female ♀.
Personality:
Tsubame is most commonly described as either "bouncing off the walls" or as having "crashed", with an energetic, larger-than-life and over-the-top personality. She's easily distracted, a little aloof, and has a short attention span, but contrary to this she's extremely passionate with a full-frontal approach once she's committed to something, as long as she is committed to it - for example, she can play a total of 9 instruments at the beginner level.
Biography:
Tsubame was born as the youngest of three children, with an older brother and an older sister, in Yokohama, Kanagawa Prefecture. As the youngest child, true to stereotypes, she was often spoilt and sometimes given a looser reign that her siblings before her, often to petty sibling debate. Economically, their family was significantly well-off with a firm position in the upper-middle class, with her father running a successful local butcher and her mother being a housewife.
Initially, Tsubame was enrolled into a private school like her siblings before her, although when her father's butchers started to go downhill and eventually go out of business two years later, the family could no longer afford it. Before long, her father found work at a corporation-chain butchers, although the money was never as great. In order to keep her in school, her family enrolled Tsubame into the significantly cheaper CCG Academy Junior School.
In the junior school, Tsubame sat comfortably in the middle-performance range. While she initially struggled, once her teachers figured out how short her attention span his and how she can easily be prompted back towards work with a gentle touch, her grades began to rise. In response to such a prompt, she took up martial arts as an extracurricular activity, which she remains in until she graduated - becoming quite talented, particularly in Naginatajutsu.
Following her graduation from the CCG Academy Junior School, Tsubame - to her parents objection, but she was stubbornly committed - went on to enroll at the CCG Ghoul Investigator Training Academy, to train to become a ghoul investigator. As before, she sat comfortably in the center range for grades, all but slipping under the radar - which she would have, if her personality wasn't so larger-than-life. Throughout the process of attending the academy, the worst of her low-attention, high-density personality was mitigated - and while it's still almost painfully present, it's subsided at least in the regard that she can focus on and is committed to the job, with her prior teachers hoping that her partner and teacher within CCG will continue to work on it.
Only recently, Tsubame graduated from the academy to move on to CCG headquarters. She's currently eager and excited to meet her partner.
Rank:
Rank 2 Investigator.
Quinque:
Tsubame's quinque is a Koukaku/Ukaku-type quinque fashioned into the shape of a naginata. The entire construction of the weapon - from the pommel of the shaft to the tip of the blade - is made from a koukaku kagune, coming together in a strong if not slightly unwieldy weapon, considering it stands well above Tsubame in height when stood next to her. The gimmick of the weapon is that an ukaku kagune is fashioned into the pommel, where it slides apart to fire crystallized shards as seen fired from its ghoul counterparts.
"O-Oh, Daiki, I-!""Sit the fuck back down."
Full name:
Tsukada Daiki.
Appearance:
Daiki stands at an imposing 6 feet and 2 inches tall with broad shoulders accompanied by a muscular, chiseled build. His clear skin is clad in a bodysuit of traditional, colorful Japanese art, the sorts of which typically associated to the Yakuza: depicting works such as dragons, koi fish, oni, and nature, from the collarbones down to the toes - with the exception of a parting line down the center-front of the torso. His dark hair is worn styled back and his facial hair varies between a clean shave and a vague stubble. His dull, dark brown eyes depict a story in themselves, and he normally wears some assortment of suit - within which, he almost always carries a Model 1911 pistol.
Significantly, the pinkie finger of his left hand has been cut off just above the first knuckle connecting to the palm of the hand, not unlike yubitsume.
Species:
Human.
Age:
28.
Gender:
Male ♂.
Personality:
Daiki is a stern, no-nonsense man's man: educated, clothes that fit, button-up shirts, polite but the first to throw a punch, love your mother and protect your family, so on so forth. As an active gangster of the yakuza, he almost religiously follows the philosophy of ninkyo, even if begrudgingly at times - even between practicing crimes for the gain of himself or his yakuza family. He is to some extent stubborn, and while he's normally slow to commit to an issue, he's passionate and nigh-hellbound once he is. He smokes approximately half a pack of cigarettes a day as a vice.
Biography:
Daiki was born in the relatively distant city of Osaka, within the aptly named Osaka Prefecture, as the youngest of two children underneath an older brother. His father was a detective for the local police department and his mother worked at an accounting firm as an administration clerk, resulting in a collectively high household income. While naturally, responsibility for the household would fall onto the older brother once he was capable enough, it almost always fell on Daiki, as his oldest brother was something of a delinquent.
As the two grew up, Daiki's older brother came to often often "exerted his dominance" over him - denying him granted things in the house, roughing him up, and otherwise picking on him. This continued throughout school and ran through peer groups. Daiki's parents were either absent in physical presence or absent in authority, as his father was mentally deteriorating through overexertion and his mother was working hard to try and pick up the slack. It was through this means Daiki picked up his "brawler" fighting style, through constant practice and failure with the occasional victory, Pyrrhic or otherwise. The stack between Daiki and his older brother came to an abrupt turnabout not long after Daiki's 13th birthday - when his older brother was 15. Daiki's older brother, the delinquent he has, was shouting at and shoving about their mother for grounding him after he was caught smoking with his friends. When Daiki tried to interfere, his older brother shoved him aside and went to smack him over the head to dissuade him, where Daiki retaliated by abruptly slipping by and socking him square in the jaw - knocking him to the ground - before he then put his head in the doorframe of one of the lower cupboards and slammed the door over his head a total of sixteen times, incapacitating him and resulting in no less than five stitches. While the incident initially put a divide between Daiki and his mother, they later grew much closer as Daiki came to protect her from his older brother. Following the incident, Daiki started to begin training in martials arts - namely, boxing and muay thai - with the financial support of her mother. While confrontation between Daiki and his older brother initially peaked, they began to gradually drop off after Daiki's older brother tried to take to him with a baseball bat as revenge, where Daiki promptly gave him another six stitches using the very same bat - well beyond the level of violence his older brother had intended to go, mind you, making him secretly scared of his younger brother.
Shortly after Daiki's 17th birthday, the hidden issues between Daiki's parents abruptly burst out into public light. While it was no secret that Daiki's father was spending less time with his family and more time at local bars, it was revealed that his father had actually fallen into alcoholism so extensively that he was caught both under the influence and with vodka in his water bottle at work, where he was promptly fired. It was also revealed that his father was frequenting strip clubs and that in the time, his mother was having an affair with someone from her workplace - who, mind you, took much better care of her. When Daiki's parents were confronting one another in the kitchen, Daiki's father eventually boiled over to strike his mother, where Daiki - now well-built and chiseled as is - promptly struck him to the ground and put his head in the lower closets before his mother stopped him. Daiki and his mother moved in with the man she was having an affair with who, to this day, they all get along as if they were a family in themselves. Daiki's brother was left with his father.
Going forward another two and a half years, with Daiki now being 19 and his older brother being 21, Daiki learnt that his brother not only had become involved running narcotics for local gangsters, but he'd done so underneath the nose of the local Yakuza family. He learnt such when Yakuza gangsters intercepted him on his way back home from university one day, who were aware of the broken relation between the two and asked if he knew anywhere. While Daiki said he didn't, he took one of their mobile phone numbers and sought out his brother on his own. Since their parting, his father had found work at a local supermarket where he was now an assistant manager and while his recovery from alcoholism and sex addiction was slow, it was coming along; his brother, however, dropped out of school and got involved with local crime, which had landed him in his current position. Daiki tracked his brother to a local abandoned warehouse, where he found him and one of ihs accomplices surveying a trunk-load of narcotics. Daiki called the yakuza gangster's number to let him know, which later led to a major incident by local standards: a number of petty gangsters and dealers arrived to receive the narcotics where a number of yakuza gangsters pulled up shortly after, resulting in a major fight - strictly a brawl with some melee weapons, mind you, nothing too severe. When Daiki helped the Yakuza gangsters in the fight and outperformed even some of their own, he was later asked if he was looking for work. This is how Daiki became involved with the local Yakuza family - granted, once he proved himself.
In a particular incident when Daiki was 24, Daiki became romantically invested with one of the women being used to make pornographic media, who expressed her desire to him to escape the industry. Daiki organised her escape, although the escape was foiled by other members of the family who had caught wind. In response, Daiki was given two choices by the oyabun - the family head: either present to him one of his severed fingers by midnight, or be hunted by the family. Shortly before 11 PM that night, Daiki entered the oyabun's household and presented the severed pinkie finger of his left hand, where he was then dismissed to go to hospital.
Since then, Daiki has been serving the yakuza family faithfully, and remains doing so today. As of current, he's fairly influential within the family and informally fills the role of an enforcer, since having grown close to his lieutenant. He currently has his own apartment in the 20th ward where he lives with his faithful Staffordshire Bull Terrier, - who, admittedly, is spoilt to almost no end, but she's so gentle and loving that he can't help himself. |
Subsets and Splits