Sоцl Vёssєl {Дdvaиcєd Яоlєplaу} discussion
Cнaяacтёґs
>
Fємalё Cґёaтюи
date
newest »
newest »
➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ Oɴᴇ
«Ｉ'ｍ ｓｏｒｒｙ, ｄｉｄ Ｉ ｌｏｏｋ ｖａｉｎ?
Ｔｈａｔ'ｓ ａｂｏｕｔ ｈｏｗ ｍｕｃｈ Ｉ'ｍ ｓａｎｅ.»
【 Mᴀʀɪᴀʜ 】 Sʟʏᴠɪᴀ Wɪʟᴋᴇs
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
『 〓 』• Pronounced |mah-RI-ah | sihl-VEE-uh | wuh-IL-kehs |
• Mariah is a female given name of Middle Eastern ancestry. It is thought to be a variation of the name Maria, which is a Western World version of the ancient Hebrew name Miriam. This name may also be related to the Hebrew place name Moriah. Although "Mariah" and "Maria" differ by one letter, the proper pronunciation of the former is "mah-RYE-ah." It is a Gaelic variant of Mary, meaning beloved, loved, or star of the sea. It can also mean bitter. Other variants include Mariya and Marie. The name Mariah appeared as early as 1550 in Great Britain.• Silvia is an Italian female given name of Latin origin, with English-language cognate Sylvia. The name originates from the Latin word for forest Silva and its meaning is spirit of the wood. The God of the forest was associated with the figure of Silvanus. In Roman mythology, Silvia is the goddess of the forest and the moon, the sister of Romei, who is greatly trusted as her husband. Silvia is also the name of one of the female innamorati of thecommedia dell'arte and is a character of the Aminta written by Torquato Tasso.
• Wilkes is a surname of English origin. Its origin is as a variant of the name William. William is of Old German origin, and the meaning of William is "will helmet, protection". For a long time after the Norman conquest in AD 1066, three out of four English boys were given some form of the conqueror's name, William. Short forms and variants came into being with a common basic meaning of "will", "determined", or "resolute". William has remained a royal name in the UK for nearly one thousand years. The firstborn son of the current Prince of Wales is named William. Wilhelm is a German form; actor Willem Dafoe has made the Dutch form familiar since the 1980s. See also Willard. Playwright William Shakespeare; actors William Hurt, Billy Crudup, Bill Pullman;
film director Wim Wenders; poet William Blake; author William Faulkner; American Presidents William H. Harrison, William H. Taft, William McKinley; Bill Clinton.
【 Rɪᴀʜ 】
She was dubbed so by a dealer she had started to work with as a partner. The imbecile had the audacity to think that there was some form of friendship between the two of them, only to have their hopes dashed by reality when she slit their throat.
░▓░Gender Femme Fatale ⇝ Female
♀┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Derived from the chromosome
┗━━━━━━━━━┛『xx』
░▓░Sexuality Ambisexual, whatever gets the job done
[Relationship Status] Single
░▓░Age Twenty-Three ⇝ 23
░▓░Blood Type A- ⇝ A Rh Negative
░▓░Place of Birth Chrysous
░▓░Date of Birth December 8th ⇝ 8 AM
⊱ Zodiacal symbol ♐ ➠ Sagittarius ➠ (view spoiler)
«She's a cruel mistress, and a bargain must be made.»
Rᴏʟᴇ ɪɴ sᴏᴄɪᴇᴛʏ
[ Vᴇssᴇʟ Tʀᴀᴅᴇʀ ]
Oh, vessel trading has been in the family for some time, and the recent generation of Wilkes have gotten rather good at it. Yes, they developed skills that the older generations would both appreciate and disapproved of.
The main antagonists of the plot, their sole purpose is to find, capture and manipulate the souls inside of their vessels. They are known to be cunning, arrogant and very cynical, though who wouldn't be when you have the whole world under your fingertips? The Vessel Traders steal the soul vessels and their human bodies, selling them off to the black market and such for a high price, also a word interchangeable with slave trades. They are the most feared beings in the kingdom, and they normally visit towns in groups lead by one Trader to raid their homes in search for vessels.
Tʜᴇ Bᴇɪɴɢ
▐▒ Face Claim Alexandra Breckenridge
▐ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▐
▐☸▒ Being a vessel trader is hard work for some people, and not everyone is meant for the life. You'd expect to see burly men coming for the outcast children, but sometimes you see Mariah. She's a breath of fresh air from the usual stereotype, but don't even begin to think that she's not going to do just about anything for what she wants.
Reaching the stopping point of just about six feet, you would say that Mariah is a tall woman. It's suitable for her occupation, as intimidation is usually best found in the people higher up from the ground. She weighs around a hundred and forty pounds, but you'd never be told unless she has plans for you to die shortly after. Framed somewhat like an hourglass, with no real finesse at any point, she makes to be the perfect weapon of sorts. She is still noticeably slender, the cherry on top in her opinion, however even if she weren't a picture of beauty she'd always believe that she is.
Tendrils near a burgundy hue curl their way down to Riah's shoulders, and if she straightens her hair it descends further down. Upon a mixed triangular and rectangular countenance sits a pair of oculars unlike many to be seen. Should one be at a distance when taking them in, they appear as though they are a crimson hue, and would then lure the viewer closer to doe brown eyes. Yes, the sight of them is still enticing, but most are fooled by the far off inspection. Mariah has no such care for what others think, and her eyes are just another wonder that pops out against her lightly tanned complexion. No, she isn't one to stay in the sun at all hours of the day, and it does often bring her to appear pale at times and in certain lights.
Now the last weapon in her apparitional arsenal is her voice. It's smooth like honey, and sounds just as sweet. People from Earth would associate it with a Southern tang, but she really just has a way of drawling her words out that makes it seem similar. The tone she usually takes is condescending in manner, and her insulting statements are coated with the sweetness of her voice that most her fooled by.
||☳|| [ Dᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ]
⊱ Hair Pigmentation Crimson
⊱ Eye Pigmentation At first glance, similar to her hair; closer up is doe brown.
⊱ Altitude Around 6 feet
⊱ Ponderosity 140 lbs
⊰⊱ Distinguishing Marks
▶ Tattoos: (view spoiler)
||☳|| [ Sᴛʏʟᴇ ]
Mariah doesn't really have a style. She just has clothing that can get her in and out of where she needs to go, and maybe even nothing suffices for certain situations. Either way, she doesn't much care for what she wears unless she looks good in it.
||☳|| [ Mᴇɴᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ ]
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
↧ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Bᴇʟᴏᴡ
↥ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Fʀᴏᴍ Aʙᴏᴠᴇ➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
«Put your hands to the constellations
The way you look should be a sin, you my sinsation.»
【 Aᴅᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▌✓║
▌✓║
▌✓║
▌✓║
▌✓║
【 Aʙʜᴏʀʀᴇɴᴄᴇ 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▌✗║
▌✗║
▌✗║
▌✗║
▌✗║
【 Sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
☰Cerebral☰
▌▲║
▌▲║
▌▲║
☷Corporeal☷
▌▲║
▌▲║
▌▲║
【 Iɴғᴇʀɪᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
☰Cerebral☰
▌▼║
▌▼║
▌▼║
☷Corporeal☷
▌▼║
▌▼║
▌▼║
A ℂ ø ø l™ template brought to you by ➠║♔║C ø l d A ḯ я[ Disclaimer ] →(view spoiler)←
【 D 】ｒａｗ ａ ｌｏｗ ｂｒｅａｔｈ
ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴀᴍᴇs sᴄᴏʀᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ.
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
ʙʟᴏᴡ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴅs ᴡʀᴏɴɢғᴜʟʟʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ
Monroe Alyssa Montgomery | Use of "Roe" in the place of "Monroe" may be acceptable |
『 ☲ 』• Pronounced → | mun-RO | | uh-LIH-suh | | mont-GUM-ree |
➺ The name Monroe is of both English and Scottish origin. In both tongues, it means "mouth of roe". The name is generally used for those of the masculine form, however, Monroe's mother loved the name so dearly she beseeched it upon her new born baby girl. Variant spellings of the name Monroe include Munro and Munroe.
➺ Alyssa is an alias of Hebrew and German origins. In the language of Hebrew, the name translates into "joy" or "great happiness". In German, however, it transposes into "noble kind". The sentimental virtue of Alyssa comes from the fact Monroe's mother has that first name. Though Monroe hardly shows it, she does feel fond of that appellation.
➺ The surname of Monroe is Montgomery, which is of English origin. It is translated into "mount of the rich man". As a first name, Montgomery would most likely fall into the category of a boy's name. However, as a surname this does not apply. Montgomery also falls into the landform category; coming from Montgomery, Alabama. As for why this surname has been chosen is unknown, other than the fact Monroe has roots from Great Britain.
Role in Society: Citizen... But most definitely not amongst the Good Samaritans.
Location of Birth: Chrysous
Gender: ♀ Feminine {xx} Chromosome
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Relationships: Information unavailable
Age: 23 ⎝October 31 3:25 a.m.⎠
Zodiacal Symbol: ♏ Scorpio||→ ❝The Scorpion is one intense little creature, with enough poison in its own tail to disable or kill a much larger opponent. But the problem with this kind of built-in biological weaponry is that it must be mastered in order to be used most effectively. You Scorpios can use your "stinger" for self-defense, using your powerful emotional awareness to render your opponent harmless. But there is a sexual component of poisonous tail also, and until Scorpio learns to control those strong urges, Scorpio may find yourself in uncomfortable situations.
Scorpio is the only sign that has three animal totems. First, there is the well-known Scorpion with its active tail. Second, as the Scorpio learns to master its passion and hold its instincts at bay, it changes into the Eagle. The Eagle has more perspective, for it flies high above the surface of circumstances, swooping down with its power only to kill prey for food. In its third form, the Scorpion becomes the always-peaceful dove. The real meaning of Scorpio is thus shown. Scorpio is about metamorphosis. Scorpios transform the painful poisons of possessive passion into a higher consciousness based on universal love.
The Scorpio motto might be "What is hidden is more interesting than what is obvious." You are the detectives of the zodiac. Your magnetic personality draws others to you. But you can also be secretive yourself, for you learn early on that when you express everything, others may be scared by the power of your feelings. You desperately want to have someone to merge with your feelings, but can become cold and withdrawn when hurt in love. You have the magic to light up the dark, but sometimes you would benefit by looking at the positive side of things rather than going into the darkness at all.❞
Zodiacal Symbol (Part 2): 蛇 Snake||→ Despite the Snake’s natural love of the illicit, he craves order and tranquillity, and is easily stressed by disarray both in the home, workplace, and wider life. Although they are hard-working, Snakes grow bored easily, and tend to flit from one job to another. This impatience can be construed as flightiness and disloyalty, but the Snake doesn’t operate like that. It is pure boredom, and an unwillingness to bear tedium that causes the serpent to cut and run.
When it comes to seduction, the Snake is a master. Often attractive, and very enigmatic, Snakes suffer no shortage of interest. If a relationship lasts beyond the initial flirtation, the Snake can display possessiveness, but the up side of this is that they will treat you extremely well.
Blood Type: ➾ O Rh Negative
▪ █ ▌▯▯▯▯ Tʜᴇ Cᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴇᴀʟ Mᴀɴɪғᴇsᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
⊱〓 Physique (view spoiler)
⊱〓 Tattoo(s) (view spoiler)
ᴇɴᴜᴍᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ⇊
♤ Cilium Pigmentation: Classified as a deep obsidian, Monroe's dark tresses shine with a bluish tint. Though for those who refrain from ignorance, they should know her locks are the darkest brown; as black coloration in the coiffure does not truly exist. Monroe's hair is very raven-like, albeit, in some lighting, shades of lighter origins do make themselves apparent. This includes a vibrant gold, fiery red, and smooth mahogany.
♤ Ocular Pigmentation: (view spoiler)
♤ Stature:
♤ Weight:
ːː Ｈｉｓｔｒｉｏｎｉｃａｌ┊Ｄｉｓｐｏｓｉｔｉｏｎ▬▬ ▬▬ Tʜᴇ Essᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ Essᴇɴᴄᴇ
Clever & Expeditious Intellectual
↪ 10//10
▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀
Reserved for Possible Part IV
╯♛ A template brought to you by⤷┊Ｐａｒｏｘｙｓｍａｌ Ａｓｐｈｙｘｉａｔｉｏｎ
| Disclaimer | (view spoiler)
【 Ｄ 】ｏｎ'ｔ ｔｒｕｓｔ ｈｅｒ ｅｙｅｓ, ｒｕｎ, ｒｕｎ ａｗａｙ.
ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ.
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Tʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇss ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ sᴇᴇ.
Cynara Arathi Polixeni | Any other pseudonym will be unacceptable. |
『 〓 』• Pronounced | Cyn‐a‐ra | | A-rat-fee | | Pol-ix-eni |
● As the name is of Greek origin it just so happens to be the meaning of "thistly plant" the name was made famous by the late-19th-century English poet Ernest Dowson's line "I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! In my fashion." The name Cynara may also mean that the keeper may have a jovial nature but are bound to have an emotional life. They find it difficult to save money, not to mention like to have several lines of effort going at once. They're a good talker, promoter, and even sometimes quite seldom. At times, they can be impatient, irritable and impulsive, if negative, careless and immoral. This person could be many things, but even as the energy might be scattered, they have the ability to bring an idea to completion. They tend to express themselves joyously and constructively, even if at various times they come off as a bad person they only mean well.
● Powerful and complete. They are good intellectually and require several outlets for their extreme energies, they are not a builder but a planner, and want others to carry out with their plans. They have lots of ideas and begin many projects but do not always finish them. They are often noted as a letter of initiative, self-reliance and will power. If negative, they result to being sarcastic, cynical, or critical. They are bold, independent, inquisitive and interested in research. They know what they want and why they want it. They tend to be a clear thinker, if in a bad mood they can be egotistical.
● They often have a power of expression, either in speaking or writing; they are in favor for studying and research. They're clever, clear-sighted and intellectual. They can be dominating and rather impatient if restricted, if negative, they will be selfish and unsympathetic- they can be secretive and don't like to let others know their true feelings, which leads them to suffer in their emotional life. They are seeking freedom, opportunities to enjoy life: to make love, to go places and to do things. They are very adventurous and willing to take risks to achieve their objectives.
Role in Society: Outcast; Slave
Age: 17 ⎝ 6th of November 2:31 a.m⎠
Place of birth: Pyropys; Land of peace
Blood Type: ＡＢ - People with blood type AB are hard to categorize. They can have characteristics on both ends of the spectrum at the same time. For instance, they are both shy and outgoing. They easily switch from one opposite to another. AB people are trustworthy and responsible, but can’t handle it when too much is asked of them. They don’t mind doing favors or helping out, as long as its on their own conditions. People with this blood type are interested in art and metaphysics. AB is considered the worst blood type. In predictability-loving Japan, they’re loose cannons. They also like to set their own conditions and reserve the right to drop out when things don’t meet their expectations. They’re known to be sensitive and considerate—at times—but it just isn’t enough to balance out the flaws in this blood type. AB are also known as humanists. They are unpredictable, distant lot, but tend to use their heads over their hearts. They seek accord and also work well as mediators; however, they can viewed as two-faced.
Gender: "I hate to disappoint you but these are boobs."
♀ ┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Derived from the feminine chromosome
┗━━━━━━━━━┛『 xx 』
⊱
Sexuality: Heterosexual | Also known as being "straight." Heterosexuality is romantic attraction, sexual attraction or sexual behavior between persons of opposite sex or gender in the gender binary. As a sexual orientation, heterosexuality refers to "an enduring pattern of or disposition to experience sexual, affectionate, physical or romantic attractions to persons of the opposite sex"; it also refers to "an individual’s sense of personal and social identity based on those attractions, behaviors expressing them, and membership in a community of others who share them". The term is usually applied to humans, but it is also observed in all mammals.
Relationship Status: As you can guess, when you're a slave you don't have the time for a lover.
⊱ Zodiacal symbol: ♏ ➠ Scorpio ➠ The Scorpio is the most misunderstood of all astrology signs. They are all about intensity and contradictions. It is extremely difficult to sneak anything by a Scorpio; their profound psyches know how to map out a situation and unhinge the details. Whilst able to depict things like an open book, they are unreadable themselves. This zodiac is pulsating with emotions that are carefully placed beneath the façade surface, never to emerge unless piqued to extremes. Stemming from their desire to succeed, the Scorpio has to be in control, otherwise their version of balance is corrupt, and like the scorpion, the Scorpio would rather kill itself with its own poison before succumbing to something bigger than itself.
Scorpios are more than passionate love-making symbols; though they make passionate love-makers, they are also loyal companions more valuable for their undying affection than anything else. However, do not ever expect them to fess up or share their tale with you if you are none other than an acquaintance. Scorpios are very weary about trusting anyone, as a person needs to gain their trust and this gets built up over a long duration of time. If betrayed or crossed for any reason in any way, it is likely that you will find yourself beneath the wrath of a poisonous individual for quite some time, as just as Scorpio's have an intense passion for things they get involved in, they have an intense grudge toward people who severe their trust.
⊱██ ▌║ːː ❛ Ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ ▬▬▬▬ Tʜᴇ ʙᴏᴅʏ ◣
▐ Physique (view spoiler)
▐ Tattoo(s) (view spoiler)
|| ♛ || As Cynara may come off as a sweet, warm, loving figure- she's quite the dangerous one, the Vessel Traders learned that the first day of transition. She'll do anything for her family, but more for her freedom. Her blonde curly hair had once been long and beautiful, luscious and glorious; the ladies were so jealous. She didn't take much care to it, she never cares much for anything because even as she may care deep down in her heart, the black seeps through the red. She cut it all off in trade for a bag of bread for her brother, he was starving, and with that he took off into the night never to return. She never saw her brother again after that. She did what was right, what her family deserved, and in order for them to live she had to die.
Life as a slave didn't start for her until she turned fifteen, you may be thinking, wow- what a terrible way to start. It wasn't all too bad, seeing that her life before was poor and useless. But then again, she'd rather be there then here. She's skinny due to food loss, well she's never had meat on her bones, putting her at a weightless 123.8 pounds. As for her height, well she's always been tall; standing firm and strong at 5'11. If you're willing to get past her eyes, past the dangerous holes to the soul, you might be lucky. She's beautiful, there's no doubt, but her personality is a different story. She's too arrogant, and runs her mouth even if she knows it is to be slapped. Trying to prove a point to her is quite hard, she knows what it means deep in that noggin, because she isn't as dumb as she comes off to be. The only people she'll ever give actual love to are the people of her village, the people of the poor; her family.
Eye Color: Dark green, like the others around her, her oculars are quite the masterpiece. At times they can be moss green with flecks of yellow, and the next they're bright blue; some call eyes like these galaxy eyes. Not sure why, maybe it's just because they move like the stars and waves of starlight. If you look close enough you might even be able to find space deep down in her eyes. But be careful, for you might fall in. (view spoiler)
Height: 5'11.3 in height and inches.
Weight: 123.8 pounds.
Ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕａｔｉｏｎ ｄｏｗｎｗａｒｄｓ ↓
♛ ⋮↑ ( ☪ ) ↓◞Ｔｅｍｐｅｓｔ
ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀs ᴛɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇʟᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ.
ᴄʏɴᴀʀᴀ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ: ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀs ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀs ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ɢᴇᴛs.
♚ ▌▌▌▌ Usually the first chapters of stories begin with a warm feeling, but this one started with fear- a woman in black, she ran like the wind, she ran like anyone ever could in a pitch black dress. She peer over her shoulder every few seconds, wondering if the men in animal skin had left, wondered if she really had been let off scot free. But then again, the Vessel Traders never were ones to give up, not ever. "Aya boys! She's heading east!" It was an old voice, by the sound of it he was probably in his late twenties. "Where did her daughter go?!" Of course, grandma Diana had hid away her only daughter, my mother. "There she is!" Before the woman can cower in fear and crouch from the impact she is smashed to the ground, a belt is whipped out and immediately slashed across her face, she had never been treated like such a slave- such a weakling. "No! Don't damage her face, we can use her vessel." He was merely one of the older ones, here in the woods she was on her own. "I'll do it- I'm the sacrifice! Leave my daughter alone! Plea-" Her face had been pushed into the soil by a boot, the brown dirt flooded her tastebuds. "She's gone, as for you." Why were these traders being so harsh on her? Most would slap her and take her away, normally they wouldn't want to hurt her vessel- that was actually a good sign. With these injuries and bruises she wouldn't be sold for a long time, but even then she'd never be able to go home.
Cynara's grandmother- Diana, was one of the lucky ones; she died in a week after the transition, now that may sound like a horrible life, but when you're used and beaten it's actually a relief. Grandmother Diana was a sweetheart, she only wanted what was best for her only daughter, Aniston. Aniston happened to be Cynara's mother, she was born in agony and lived in despair- she sold her bodies to others, like most of this world did for money. It really wasn't a surprise, though she watched her back in case some man turned out to be a Vessel Trader. One night she came home to find that she was pregnant with a baby, she crashed to the floor with screams; her baby was born in a world of hate.
Four years later, she was pregnant with another baby, just like Cynara she had to give birth to him in a bathroom, all on her own. She'd seen enough work to do it on her own- she couldn't let the Vessel Traders know that she had two children up for grabs while she was out working her ass off. She gave Cynara her first gun when she turned six and left more than usual, in the broken down house she didn't have much to fight off, but when a man came indoors she hid with Augustus in the closet.
♚ ▌▌▌▌ When Cynara turned fourteen she made her first encounter with an intruder, she told Augustus to stay in the closet until she gave him a whistle, until she told him the coast was clear- pitch black at night she was very unaware of the man that lived in the corner of her living room. She walked very carefully and elegantly around the house with her head held high, she couldn't let her guard down. When she heard a snap she turned around so fast that her head was already spinning, it wasn't Augustus, she could hear his feet rearranging upstairs. "Who are y-" The gun is snatched out of her hand, the small pistol is out of her reach. When she take five steps backwards the moonlight reveal a man with a bright smile. "What do we have here? A beautiful girl, she's covered in white." The man grin wider, pressing the gun to her throat. "Like an angel."
She was raped, she was violated. She had to be careful, she had to wait her chance to attack- she was so proud of Augustus, he stayed in his spot even if he could hear her screams and the man's blurred moans. Asleep on the floor the man lie, when will mom come home? She thought, as she stare the door with loss- he had taken her life from her, he had taken so much of her joy in those two hours. When she stand she hear his groan from sleep erupt, she pause and peer over her shoulder, he was merely talking in his sleep. She open the drawer and pull out a knife, the flashlight in her other hand is shaking- she had never been so scared.
She had stabbed him twelve times from behind, when she flickered on the light of her flashlight the white color revealed the man with his back torn to bits, her shirt covered with blood. Mother walked into the door, gently closing it she walked up to her daughter, covered in blood and tears- Cynara hug her mother, bawling her eyes out she let go of the flashlight and the bloodied knife.
That's when she knew she'd never be the same, she'd never be able to live a normal life, maybe that's why she turned out to be the sacrifice, because Augustus and his mother deserved not only the best but they deserved to be free of her sorrow.
Ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕａｔｉｏｎ ｄｏｗｎｗａｒｄｓ ↓
Ｒｅｓｅｒｖｅｄ ｆｏｒ ｐｏｓｓｉｂｌｅ ｐａｒｔ ＴＨＲＥＥ
A ₩ ｉ S Ｅ␟ template brought to you by ➽ ✪ Wise 유리
( © Aʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. Wɪsᴇ Oᴡʟ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ. )
{ Disclaimer } ☞ (view spoiler) ☜
❝ Lᴀsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ;
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Aʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ.
▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Hᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ʀᴇᴅ ʙᴀʟʟᴏᴏɴ;
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Wᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ. ❞
Bea Eloise Maddison | No other names will you find her susceptible to. |
『 ≎ 』 • Pronounced ⇢ | Bee-ah | | Ell-o-wees | | M(a)-dee-son |
✽ The name Bea is a Latin baby name. In Latin, the meaning of the name Bea is bringer of joy. In the Divine Comedy, Beatrice was Dante's guide through Paradise, perhaps inspired by Beatrice Portinari who was Dante's earliest love. A form of Beatrice, Bea can be referred to the appellated one in an endearing manner or to save a mouthful that would follow if one continued to use the full form each time.
✽ From the Old French name Héloïse, which is probably from the Germanic name Helewidis, composed of the elements heil "hale, healthy" and wid "wide". It is sometimes associated with the Greek word ‘ηλιος (helios) "sun" or the name Louise, though there is not likely an etymological connection. This name was borne in the 12th century by Saint Eloise, the wife of the French theologian Peter Abelard. She became a nun after her husband was castrated by her uncle. There was a medieval English form of this name, Helewis, though it died out after the 13th century. In the 19th century it was revived in the English-speaking world in the form Eloise.
✽ Transferred use of the surname meaning "Mad's son." Mad was a common pet form of Matthew (gift of God) during the Middle Ages. Maddison may also be a matronymic derived from the name Maud, an old pet form of Mathilda (battle mighty): hence, "son of Maud."
Role in Society: Civilian.
Age: Eighteen of years. {18} ■ 7th of December; 12:01 AM. ■
➟ Birthplace: Pyropys, the land of peace.
Gender: ♀ Of feminine origin. [xx]
➟ Blood Type: Ｏ ↦ ʀʜ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ
➟ Sexuality: Heterosexual
➟ Relationship Status: Pfft, love? Who needs it?
|➲|ℤodiacal Symbol: [♐] - Sagittarius (Centaur the Archer)
❝A Sagittarius born on December 7 has great wisdom and occult knowledge, which allows him or her to perceive life on many levels. They search for meaning through their important relationships and generally express their inner self via a creative outlet. They know where the rough water is and can maneuver life's swift currents without losing their way.❞
When it comes to family, there's no better person you'd like at your side than a Sagittarius. Often growing up in an unusual family, a Sagittarius thus gains knowledge from them that helps foster their psychic leanings. When they themselves become parents, they show a great sensitivity to the emotional needs of their youngsters. The strong bond between the parent and the child lasts a lifetime.
Money, however, is where things start to get tricky. Because they feel working strictly for money is unethical, finances can be thus hard to manage, but the willpower that comes with it is worth it; it allows them to realize of the importance that comes with their jobs and benefit from life lessons, such as putting others before themselves and the act of benevolence.
While others may be able to resist the allure of romance, those of the Sagittarius take love very seriously. They have an almost religious view of commitment and will not stand any ground for any sort of debauchery. They're automatically drawn to someone through whom they can learn life's most important lessons.
ރ ██ ⊱ ᴀᴘᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ｓᴜʙｓᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ⇢ Ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌ Ｃｏｎｓｔｉｔｕｔｉｏｎ
(view spoiler)
Sᴛᴀᴛɪsᴛɪᴄs ⇊
▼ Coiffure Pigmentation: A dark mahogany that can be classified as dark brown in the most vague of situations, albeit the fact that due to certain conditions, in specific terms, the hue of Bea's lovely locks can be interpreted from the color of chocolate to charcoal.
▼ Ocular Pigmentation: A warm yet dark brown framed easily with long lashes that could be compared easily to the food of the gods; chocolate, albeit they do not always glitter with warmth; rather, they glisten with an almost imperceptible emotion that could be debated as fear, desolation, or hidden aggression.
▼ Overall Stature: 165.1 centimeters - 5' 4.2" feet
▼ Overall Mass: 100.7513 pounds
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ｑｕｉｎｔｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
Appeasing ≛
↪ 10//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Reserved is the natural word one would associate with Bea at first glance. For one, she doesn't expound very much like the average girl. For another, she's not exactly the bubbliest person, either. It's not to say that she is aloof or emotionally depressed. Closed off would suit better for one of her kind. What's to say is, Bea just likes to keep to herself as she believes she can only trust herself every time. It does not stop others, though, from running up to her with their medley of problems and dragging her along the ride of emotional outbursts and drama. At almost all times, there is always someone who would be crying on her shoulder, gratefully accepting the infamous handkerchief to wipe away the salty liquid trailing down his or her cheeks. 'Tis not to say only girls would more than happily incorporate Bea into their deluge of emotional trauma; masculine beings alike also do the same, though in a more shy and furtive manner; masculine glory is still prided at even the most despondent of times. And whilst the easy offerings of including Bea in the midst of woeful melodramas, Bea does not have one to console her. Instead, she takes upon herself to assuage others and only enters in acknowledgement in the sense that whilst she is helping others, the smiles and kind words of gratitude she receives is her reward that is converted into small comforts that serve as a lifeline when she is feeling particularly desolate.
Enigmatic ≛
↪ 9//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
As Bea makes no effort to try and confide of her truest emotions, one can simply classify her as inscrutable. But the meaning is not only in the literal sense; her capability of managing to say the right thing every time one needs comfort is...conundrous. Many have even gone to the extent that they believe Bea is of supernatural origin and is possibly a sorceress or psychic. But let me assure you that 'tis not the case, however plausible the evidence may be. Going back to her being reserved, it is quite obvious that her own personal matters does she not want to divulge and let the whole world learn of her antecedents. In fact, she wants society to make its own judgements and hypotheses of her origin, her parents, anything that falls in her puzzling background. In this sense, Bea prides herself in the fact that the less she reveals, the more people can wonder.
Passive ≛
↪ 7//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
However wonderful her gift of eloquence may be, Bea also has her weaknesses. One, solely being; being honest and truthful about her feelings. It may come across to you peculiar that one who could navigate through the harsh waters of emotions cannot fulfill her own task of divulging in her own feelings. But alas, the answer is imprinted right there; dealing with other people's feelings is more easier than dealing with her own. There is always a fear embedded deep in her heart that when she finally has the courage to tell of her true emotions, society will ostracize her for making an opinionated statement. Bea is passive to the point that when one asks her opinion on which skirt she should buy, for example, she always agrees with whatever the asker wants to choose. She is so scared of the fact that one would get angry or exasperated for doing such a thing, thus marking her to be cocky. Only one who can reach her close through intimacy and trust can open her petals of truth and even that would take quite some time.
║▀▀▀✫▀▀▀ ǫᴜɪɴᴛᴇssᴇɴᴄᴇ sᴜᴍ-ᴜᴘ ▀▀▀✫▀▀▀║
In general, though, Bea is a sweet young lady who has her heart and mind at the right place, though she can be stubborn at times, especially when offering her views to some matters. An excellent conversationalist (once she gets past her shyness), Bea knows how to listen and offer good judgment to situations others are suffering in, albeit she will not be pleased in being one's advice counselor every day. Keep in mind, though, that to get her to open up of her own troubles, patience is definitely required and she will not submit if threatened with violence or fury.
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ａｎｔｅｃｅｄｅｎｔａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
Ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Cinderella. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Sleeping Beauty. All lovely promises of how life will be lenient on those who have suffered in the past in the form of a compilation of words. And all those who have profited well from it will soon be taken down a peg, just to be a reminder that life wouldn't be so caring for them all the time.
But the real question is this. There is a whole brigade in our folktales of characters who are incapable, sick, dumb, ugly, hunch-backed, or otherwise challenged. Yet they are the ones who seem to get all the spoils at the end. A frog turns into a princess; Cinderella goes to the ball and wins the Prince's heart; Emelya the Lazy Bones manages to show his brothers how to instantaneously harvest wheat - all without leaving his bed atop a Russian stove.
But why is it always Ivan the Fool who gets the kingdom, and not the smart and learned princes or brave, sensible knights? Why is it Snow White who's perceived as the fairest of them all and not the Evil Queen?
A young girl, by the name of Bea, wondered the very same thing. But she was wise enough to avoid publicizing out her thoughts; her mother had taught her to keep her tongue safe in her mouth and, well, God only knew who was listening.
And watching her.
( © Aʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. Wɪsᴇ Oᴡʟ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ. )
{ Disclaimer } ☞ (view spoiler) ☜
❝ Lᴀsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ;
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Aʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ.
▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Hᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ʀᴇᴅ ʙᴀʟʟᴏᴏɴ;
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Wᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ. ❞
Bea Eloise Maddison | No other names will you find her susceptible to. |
『 ≎ 』 • Pronounced ⇢ | Bee-ah | | Ell-o-wees | | M(a)-dee-son |
✽ The name Bea is a Latin baby name. In Latin, the meaning of the name Bea is bringer of joy. In the Divine Comedy, Beatrice was Dante's guide through Paradise, perhaps inspired by Beatrice Portinari who was Dante's earliest love. A form of Beatrice, Bea can be referred to the appellated one in an endearing manner or to save a mouthful that would follow if one continued to use the full form each time.
✽ From the Old French name Héloïse, which is probably from the Germanic name Helewidis, composed of the elements heil "hale, healthy" and wid "wide". It is sometimes associated with the Greek word ‘ηλιος (helios) "sun" or the name Louise, though there is not likely an etymological connection. This name was borne in the 12th century by Saint Eloise, the wife of the French theologian Peter Abelard. She became a nun after her husband was castrated by her uncle. There was a medieval English form of this name, Helewis, though it died out after the 13th century. In the 19th century it was revived in the English-speaking world in the form Eloise.
✽ Transferred use of the surname meaning "Mad's son." Mad was a common pet form of Matthew (gift of God) during the Middle Ages. Maddison may also be a matronymic derived from the name Maud, an old pet form of Mathilda (battle mighty): hence, "son of Maud."
Role in Society: Civilian.
Age: Eighteen of years. {18} ■ 7th of December; 12:01 AM. ■
➟ Birthplace: Pyropys, the land of peace.
Gender: ♀ Of feminine origin. [xx]
➟ Blood Type: Ｏ ↦ ʀʜ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ
➟ Sexuality: Heterosexual
➟ Relationship Status: Pfft, love? Who needs it?
|➲|ℤodiacal Symbol: [♐] - Sagittarius (Centaur the Archer)
❝A Sagittarius born on December 7 has great wisdom and occult knowledge, which allows him or her to perceive life on many levels. They search for meaning through their important relationships and generally express their inner self via a creative outlet. They know where the rough water is and can maneuver life's swift currents without losing their way.❞
When it comes to family, there's no better person you'd like at your side than a Sagittarius. Often growing up in an unusual family, a Sagittarius thus gains knowledge from them that helps foster their psychic leanings. When they themselves become parents, they show a great sensitivity to the emotional needs of their youngsters. The strong bond between the parent and the child lasts a lifetime.
Money, however, is where things start to get tricky. Because they feel working strictly for money is unethical, finances can be thus hard to manage, but the willpower that comes with it is worth it; it allows them to realize of the importance that comes with their jobs and benefit from life lessons, such as putting others before themselves and the act of benevolence.
While others may be able to resist the allure of romance, those of the Sagittarius take love very seriously. They have an almost religious view of commitment and will not stand any ground for any sort of debauchery. They're automatically drawn to someone through whom they can learn life's most important lessons.
ރ ██ ⊱ ᴀᴘᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ｓᴜʙｓᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ⇢ Ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌ Ｃｏｎｓｔｉｔｕｔｉｏｎ
(view spoiler)
Sᴛᴀᴛɪsᴛɪᴄs ⇊
▼ Coiffure Pigmentation: A dark mahogany that can be classified as dark brown in the most vague of situations, albeit the fact that due to certain conditions, in specific terms, the hue of Bea's lovely locks can be interpreted from the color of chocolate to charcoal.
▼ Ocular Pigmentation: A warm yet dark brown framed easily with long lashes that could be compared easily to the food of the gods; chocolate, albeit they do not always glitter with warmth; rather, they glisten with an almost imperceptible emotion that could be debated as fear, desolation, or hidden aggression.
▼ Overall Stature: 165.1 centimeters - 5' 4.2" feet
▼ Overall Mass: 100.7513 pounds
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ｑｕｉｎｔｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
Appeasing ≛
↪ 10//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Reserved is the natural word one would associate with Bea at first glance. For one, she doesn't expound very much like the average girl. For another, she's not exactly the bubbliest person, either. It's not to say that she is aloof or emotionally depressed. Closed off would suit better for one of her kind. What's to say is, Bea just likes to keep to herself as she believes she can only trust herself every time. It does not stop others, though, from running up to her with their medley of problems and dragging her along the ride of emotional outbursts and drama. At almost all times, there is always someone who would be crying on her shoulder, gratefully accepting the infamous handkerchief to wipe away the salty liquid trailing down his or her cheeks. 'Tis not to say only girls would more than happily incorporate Bea into their deluge of emotional trauma; masculine beings alike also do the same, though in a more shy and furtive manner; masculine glory is still prided at even the most despondent of times. And whilst the easy offerings of including Bea in the midst of woeful melodramas, Bea does not have one to console her. Instead, she takes upon herself to assuage others and only enters in acknowledgement in the sense that whilst she is helping others, the smiles and kind words of gratitude she receives is her reward that is converted into small comforts that serve as a lifeline when she is feeling particularly desolate.
Enigmatic ≛
↪ 9//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
As Bea makes no effort to try and confide of her truest emotions, one can simply classify her as inscrutable. But the meaning is not only in the literal sense; her capability of managing to say the right thing every time one needs comfort is...conundrous. Many have even gone to the extent that they believe Bea is of supernatural origin and is possibly a sorceress or psychic. But let me assure you that 'tis not the case, however plausible the evidence may be. Going back to her being reserved, it is quite obvious that her own personal matters does she not want to divulge and let the whole world learn of her antecedents. In fact, she wants society to make its own judgements and hypotheses of her origin, her parents, anything that falls in her puzzling background. In this sense, Bea prides herself in the fact that the less she reveals, the more people can wonder.
Passive ≛
↪ 7//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
However wonderful her gift of eloquence may be, Bea also has her weaknesses. One, solely being; being honest and truthful about her feelings. It may come across to you peculiar that one who could navigate through the harsh waters of emotions cannot fulfill her own task of divulging in her own feelings. But alas, the answer is imprinted right there; dealing with other people's feelings is more easier than dealing with her own. There is always a fear embedded deep in her heart that when she finally has the courage to tell of her true emotions, society will ostracize her for making an opinionated statement. Bea is passive to the point that when one asks her opinion on which skirt she should buy, for example, she always agrees with whatever the asker wants to choose. She is so scared of the fact that one would get angry or exasperated for doing such a thing, thus marking her to be cocky. Only one who can reach her close through intimacy and trust can open her petals of truth and even that would take quite some time.
║▀▀▀✫▀▀▀ ǫᴜɪɴᴛᴇssᴇɴᴄᴇ sᴜᴍ-ᴜᴘ ▀▀▀✫▀▀▀║
In general, though, Bea is a sweet young lady who has her heart and mind at the right place, though she can be stubborn at times, especially when offering her views to some matters. An excellent conversationalist (once she gets past her shyness), Bea knows how to listen and offer good judgment to situations others are suffering in, albeit she will not be pleased in being one's advice counselor every day. Keep in mind, though, that to get her to open up of her own troubles, patience is definitely required and she will not submit if threatened with violence or fury.
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ａｎｔｅｃｅｄｅｎｔａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
Ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Cinderella. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Sleeping Beauty. All lovely promises of how life will be lenient on those who have suffered in the past in the form of a compilation of words. And all those who have profited well from it will soon be taken down a peg, just to be a reminder that life wouldn't be so caring for them all the time.
But the real question is this. There is a whole brigade in our folktales of characters who are incapable, sick, dumb, ugly, hunch-backed, or otherwise challenged. Yet they are the ones who seem to get all the spoils at the end. A frog turns into a princess; Cinderella goes to the ball and wins the Prince's heart; Emelya the Lazy Bones manages to show his brothers how to instantaneously harvest wheat - all without leaving his bed atop a Russian stove.
But why is it always Ivan the Fool who gets the kingdom, and not the smart and learned princes or brave, sensible knights? Why is it Snow White who's perceived as the fairest of them all and not the Evil Queen?
A young girl, by the name of Bea, wondered the very same thing. But she was wise enough to avoid publicizing out her thoughts; her mother had taught her to keep her tongue safe in her mouth and, well, God only knew who was listening.
And watching her.
"All my life, I had lived a wonderful lie. But now I don't have to worry; I've been beaten continually by the unbearable truth."
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Life was simply paradise for Anastasia Maddison. The daughter of a High Priest, she just had to simply snap her fingers once to receive a cold glass of orange juice and turn on those winsome puppy-dog eyes to get that pearl necklace she had been eyeing. Simply to put in words, Anastasia was a spoiled brat and everyone knew it - except her.
School became an area upon which she claimed authority on. Boys and girls alike coveted her royal friendship and simply trailed after her footsteps. Homework was never completed in her own genuine penmanship; students hurried after her, putting their best work in her book reports and such for the lovely prize of sitting next to her at lunch. She was constantly followed and admired upon; receiving an invitation to her birthday party was simply alone a milestone for many to add onto their timeline, an opportunity to boast and describe how luxurious Anastasia's abode was - much of it which was adorned with some few exaggerations.
Those who were unfortunate of not being privy to the wonders that followed the well-known figure of Anastasia soon began to despise her. Cruel remarks arose from their lips, beginning with the simple sneers of Anastasia's physique and soon accumulating towards topics that were not worthy to speak in the land of Armendor. Suggestions soon arose, hinting that the High Priest, kind and benevolent, had been part of an affair, an affair of which involved primarily a courtesan he might have been seeing, thus resulting in the arrogant Anastasia, who had never offered even a single penny to those of unfortunate financial background. After all, it did not at all make any sense that such a benignant and charitable man as the High Priest would have become a father of such a supercilious and wretched daughter of Anastasia. Surely, it had only been the result of the High Priest giving into debauchery.
And thus, by the time Anastasia had turned eighteen, only ⅙ of what she received to be the normal number of guests before. And even then was she offered with half-smiles. Eyes soon trailed shiftily about the lavish residence in which Anastasia and her beloved family lived in. Only a few managed to muster up their kindness to offer their best wishes to Anastasia of her special day. The rest simply lingered among themselves, exchanging tidbits of gossip that had fallen upon their ears, concerning the High Priest's 'dearest princess.' Fleeting gazes soon adorned her, each universally sharing a mixture of hatred and revulsion and pinpointing those feelings towards her.
Anastasia simply stood there, feeling the slightest bit of uncertainty churn in her stomach. Something wasn't right here. It seemed like everyone had suddenly begun to hate her. Where were the girls who always giggled with her, those girls who smiled easily and called Anastasia their 'bestie'? And all those boys, who would smile with adoration and shamelessly hit on her? She fingered her necklace nervously, not used to being on the raw end. She gnawed at her bottom lip before raising her glass slightly, taking a deep breath. Might as well seize the opportunity given the attention, she thought.
"Thank you all for coming," she smiled hesitantly. "As it is my eighteenth bir-"
"Oh Jesus, will you just shut up? Goddammit."
Huh?
"I mean, seriously," the same feminine voice snarked. "Nobody frigging cares about your goddamn birthday."
Silence filled the spacious room before murmurs of agreement rose.
"Um, excuse me? This is my birthday party, so..." Anastasia hesitantly spoke over the consensual mumbles.
And that did it. Silence once again claimed its reign upon the atmosphere before a brunette in a black dress simply walked over to Anastasia and slapped her hard across the face.
"That's for stealing my color pencils in first grade."
Crack. Another slap.
"That's for making me cry in third grade."
Crack.
"That's for calling me a f-cking whore in seventh grade."
The round of slaps continued, with each gasp from every watching individual from the audience ricocheting off the high walls of the mansion.
The harsh cuffs soon ended, with a physically and mentally bruised Anastasia and a triumphant brunette.
"That was payback. Karma's a bitch, isn't she? Well, guess what? So are you. And I'm not insulting you," the girl noted Anastasia's tear-filled eyes derisively. "I'm simply stating the god-frigging truth."
Each word managed to punctuate a vicious stab at her heart. Even for a second, Anastasia couldn't help but feel flattered that the female was taking her sweet time to deliver each word towards her. But a second is only a small fraction of eternity and the agony soon rebounded immensely at the frame of the silently sobbing birthday girl.
The brunette simply stared daggers at her. "Oh, don't you act all innocent on me, you sniveling wench. Think about all those times when you pranced all prissy and arrogant everywhere."
Anastasia sniffled, dragging a hand along her eyes, smearing her mascara. "I d-don't k-know...please...I d-don't...stop..."
The brunette simply sneered at her, staring at her in mock surprise and shock. "Well then! I didn't know Miss. Conceited knew how to say please! Just for that simple word, I'll help jolt some memories. Good manners are such a lovely thing at times, huh?" The brunette smiled at her derisively before arranging herself to adorn a steely gaze at Anastasia.
"Well, let's see then. How about we start from kindergarten? When we were all happy and jolly at learning the High Priest's princess was attending our school. Good, happy times." She smirked. "The legendary Anus-tasia struck gold when she squirted apple juice into Carly Jones's eye because she was sitting at your spot." The brunette now glared at Anastasia. "You're probably wondering where Carly is, huh? That girl with the horrendous pigtails who always played with the broken red car because that was the only toy left in the bin? That was me. I'm Carly Jones."
Anastasia gaped at her, tears ceasing their descending action for the moment. "Y-You?"
Carly ignored Anastasia's surprised declaration and suddenly became interested in her nails. "I was always looked down upon. My mother never wanted a daughter. She even openly wished to have made me an Outcast. I had always hoped school would be the haven I wished for it to be. For a while, I even started to fit in and make new friends. But you had to end it. With your precious High Priest daddy." Tears were at the edge of falling and Carly angrily winked them away.
"Why did you even do it, huh?! Why'd you hate me so much?! I never did anything to you! I even thought we would be the best of friends when I heard that you were moving to Pyropys."
"You ruined my chance in acting out in the school plays. You told David McGhee that I had a crush on him. You spread rumors around saying that I was a slut and that was why I hung out with guys. I couldn't go to prom because of you and every day, I had to cry myself to sleep. " She gesticulated to her hand upon which she belted out crimes Anastasia had committed, crimes that had totally destroyed her chance of living a good life.
"But the thing I would never forget, the thing that I thought even you wouldn't have the goddamn audacity to do, was you telling your daddy to talk to my mother of sending me out to the Vessel Traders." Her voice had a hollow note in it.
"I managed to escape them, fortunately. My aunt Priscilla heard of it and she rescued me from the hell that I knew I couldn't escape from. And that was all because of you."
She turned away from Anastasia and stared at the guests who had watched the whole scene in utter silence, aside from the gasps that arose at the harsh slaps Carly adorned on Anastasia's palette.
"That bitch ruined my frigging life," she pointed at Anastasia. "And I've stood quietly, taking the pain she lashed out on me. Waiting for it all to stop. But she won't. It won't stop. And I'm speaking from experience on living my eighteen years of life."
Carly took a deep, shuddering breath before declaring, "So, I say we do something about it. I'm tired of it all, watching you guys suffer along with me. Stop pretending like everything's okay and do something about it. I finally did something about it and I've never felt better."
Murmurs of agreement started to fill the room until they rose in an universal acrimonious ejaculation that rose from the vestiges of having forgiven Anastasia. The remorse that responded emotionally having heard Carly's sordid tale had fueled them up with enough energy to express their anger towards the birthday girl.
And Carly simply crossed her arms, staring at Anastasia. "Happy birthday, Anastasia. I'm sure it's one you'll never forget."
That statement was enough to set fire the match for ultimate chaos. Girls and boys alike threw themselves upon the physical constitution of Anastasia, beating her black and blue whilst yelling at her in vengeance for all the things she had done to them. Others spread themselves among the lavish palace, ripping up furniture and overturning tables so the edible items that had once been neatly lined up along the surface converged into one huge mess. The sound of windows broken joined in the rhythmic accordance with dishes and other kitchen utensils shattering upon the floor, providing an unearthly tune that the guests associated morbidly as music to their ears. The linen closet was emptied haphazardly, towels ripped to shreds. To the eyes of one, the house was damaged beyond repair, in general. But if one took the time to examine each and every room, he or she would arrive to assumption that the room that fared the most harm in the overall demolition was Anastasia's room.
But to even start on the description of the state of Anastasia's bedroom would take too long, even to discuss of the vaguest of things that contributed to its mess.
By the time the destruction of Anastasia's 'humble abode' was ended by merely voices of judgement which concluded that what they did was done, it was midnight. Anastasia lay there, broken and bruised, shocked and numb from the agony she was introduced to. Silent tears continued to glissade down her cheeks as one by one the guests exited the party, snickering and offering their best wishes mockingly and wishing her a happy birthday once more. Carly, the last guest, bit her lip before stomping triumphantly on Anastasia's nose, pleased to see it hemorrhage. "Have a good night, Anus." The clicking of her high heels soon faded to a distant murmur.
About three hours had passed and yet still Anastasia continued to lie in the same position, too weak to move.
The sound of footsteps began to approach her slowly and for a moment Anastasia braced herself for incoming agony, thinking it was Carly again.
But it wasn't. She didn't need to worry.
"Anastasia! What happened to you? Oh goodness gracious, look at you! Bleeding and bruised! And the whole house is a mess! I'm going to have to ca-" The High Priest stopped at seeing Anastasia barely shaking her head.
"Chi! What is it, dear?"
Anastasia weakly motioned for her father to lean closer to her. He pressed his ear to her lips, bracing himself for the worst.
Then the unexpected came, albeit faintly: "Daddy, we have to move."
▬▬▬▬♠║ ▌███ ♛ ███ ▌║♠▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
"Bruised yet untouched, I came back...until I met Him.
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Moving to Pyropys seemed to be a vast improvement for Anastasia after receiving "payback" from her so-called friends. She took note of how arrogant and self-centered she was before and dramatically altered herself. The emphasis on religion in Pyropys piqued her further to change her views of God and soon, she found herself murmuring prayers every so often without the consult of prayer books. The bruises and cuts she had earned from that night only faded considerably, however many trips were spared to the local hospital. Anastasia simply had to accept the terms that they would be a reminder of her past supercilious ways and thus she took to powdering her skin and heavy makeup as a mask for her true self; rumors of the High Priest's scandal had spread rapidly among the nation of Armendor and though Pyropys was the land of peace, that didn't stop the gossip. And so thus, Anastasia hid her physical constitution well under large amounts of powder and eye shadow, growing accustomed to her facade and her new home.
Unfortunately, however, the change was not well-suited for the High Priest. Having been stripped of his important role in society after the rumors had taken a change for the worse, he was now only made a government official. And though that status may have appealed to many others, it proved to be extremely humiliating for the former High Priest to be demoted to such low standards. Anastasia's mother simply remained calm under all of this sudden occurrences, content with the knowledge that one day the rumors would stop.
During the time in which Anastasia's idiosyncrasies and demeanor underwent severe alterations, she found herself making new friends, friends who genuinely appreciated her and not because of her family's upbringing. They didn't seem to know that they were befriending the former Miss. Conceited and that made the turning of a new leaf all the more better. They aided her in her studies, an area in which Anastasia was severely lacking in, due to the act of ordering others to do her work for her. They didn't mind her frequent excuses to dab more makeup on. Anastasia was a great friend to them and that was all that mattered to them.
It was one Friday night that they invited her to hang out with them at the nightclub. Anastasia hesitantly shook her head, refusing politely. But after a good hour of persuasion, Anastasia reluctantly accepted.
"That's our girl," one of her friends smiled cheekily.
They left her to a good hour of readying herself. Anastasia was busy rummaging through her closet, searching for the perfect attire to don. Digging her hands through the mass of fabric, her slender digits fell upon a smooth cloth that could only be alluded to velvet.
She shouldn't have pulled it out. She knew she shouldn't have. But she did. And there it lay on her lap, that black dress that she had donned for her eighteenth birthday. That dress she was wearing when she was lashed upon.
Tears gathered at her eyes and she continued to finger the hemming of the dress. She had only worn it once. Just that night. Never again did she dare to put it on for fear of the return of those violent events. But now she hesitated. She had God on her side. No one would dare to...hurt her again, right?
She ignored the uncertainty churning in her vitals as she slipped the dress on and tended to adding blush upon her palette and brushing her hair. Took her time combing through her thick brown locks. She counted a thousand brushes before the doorbell rang.
"Oh, shnap, girl." Her friends wolf-whistled appreciatively, contributing well to the flames of rouge that flamed upon her cheeks.
"Oh, you guys. You know I'm nothing compared to you," she toyed with the sleeve of her dress.
"Hush, woman! You put Jenny and me to shame with your beauty!"
A few more exchanges of false put-downs only universal to the feminine gender before the group of friends headed to the nightspot. Each step made her stomach churn suggestively and Anastasia paused each time, feeling something burn in her throat.
Chartreuse and vermillion strobe lights soon greeted them, swirling at spasmodic intervals among the litter of swaying bodies, who each contributed their own fair share of outbursts, much of which consisted of loud laughter and blasting music.
"Hot guy at 7:00 sharp's got his eye on you, Annie." That was another thing; Anastasia purposely changed her alias so as to not seem suspicious and be alluded to her supposedly illegitimate self.
Anastasia turned slightly and immediately she melted at the sight of those somewhat familiar cerulean ocular orifices fixated on her. Jenny purred approvingly. "Go get some, Annie."
Anastasia didn't need any more prodding. She pushed though the pulsating party, drink in hand, as multiple bodies rubbed against her form.
"Here."
She looked up to see the male who was eyeing her, his hand outstretched.
"Thanks."
And with that continued a halfhearted conversation. Soon, the innocent exchange of words evolved into a steamy, drunken kiss. And of course, the significance of lips pressed together began to develop into the entering of an empty bedroom and the deflowered maiden, Anastasia.
A few moments passed as the two lied together, content having satisfied their coital desires. The male absentmindedly traced a fleeting finger along Anastasia's cheek until he paused at a slight bump, causing her breath to hitch in shock. "What's this?"
"I...um...it's nothing, rea-" His finger continued to trace the bump until the male gasped softly. "Anastasia, is that you?"
She just continued to lie there, biting her lip nervously. So that was why his eyes were so familiar. Some guy from her former posse in Chrysous. She couldn't associate an alias with his countenance at the moment, however.
"You're still alive. I thought they executed you."
Anastasia didn't reply, only continuing her silence.
His lips curled in distaste. "I can't believe I slept with you! I mean, god, of all the girls..."
She knew his name now. "Chris."
The male simply frowned and withdrew the sheets from his body, quickly dressing and shaking his head. "I can't believe I slept with her," he murmured again.
"Chris, wait!"
But he wouldn't have any of it. He left the room with a flourish of cologne, left the nightclub.
The familiar feeling of dread coated itself upon the slightly sweaty skin of Anastasia.
She was alone once more.
▬▬▬▬♠║ ▌███ ♛ ███ ▌║♠▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
"My fairy tale slowly came crumbling like old wallpaper and I had no Prince Charming to rescue me..."
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
The next morning was enough for Anastasia to know she was pregnant with a child; the incessant puking, the slight bump developing around her slim abdomen, and the continuation of tears falling from her eyes at upon seeing she was alone in this mess, all this was enough to pinpoint her serious mistake. She could not get herself an abortion as she didn't have enough money for it and certainly she could not ask for her parent's aid as that would shame her eternally until her death. Chris was no option, since he had simply disappeared and certainly he would be more happy drinking his own urine than to aid Anastasia. That left the Vessel Traders. She could easily give up her baby and live in peace. Regain the reins of her life and continue living. But if anything, her eighteenth birthday taught her more than she could have ever expected.
No, she finally decided. She had to care for this baby.
No matter what.
▬▬▬▬♠║ ▌███ ♛ ███ ▌║♠▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
"Just when I thought I had it all bad, things began to get worse; I soon couldn't see the light that surrounded my life."
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Nearly five years had passed and Anastasia was now by far the youngest mother of her sole daughter, Bea. Thriving both academically and socially, Bea had proven herself to be a model daughter, earning praise from both her peers and teachers. But Anastasia couldn't bear the embarrassment that came with how many would presume she was the older sister of Bea, rather than the mother. And then came with the fact she was still unmarried.
One night, Anastasia simply decided the pain was simply too much for her to endure. One glass of beer was enough to get her addicted to alcohol. Every night, she would arm herself with bottles of beer, ignoring the bills and not caring for her daughter. She would weep to herself whilst taking long swigs, tired of everything. Young Bea soon became the object in which Anastasia would express her anger at; the young girl would stand silently under harsh slaps and drunken shouts, not protesting but silently crying and hoping the 'bad spirit' would pass from her mother.
December 7th soon neared, signalling Bea's life of now six years. A cold dreary night, it was simply when all hell had broken loose.
Bea knew to be polite and not demand things of people; it was one of the skills Anastasia had taught her before she had turned to alcohol. But she was only seven at the time, a mere child, and she longed for a present.
After pacing in her room for endless hours, Bea finally worked up the courage to walk into the dining room, smoothing the creases of her skirt as she stood in front of her mother. The familiar clank of the bottle set down on the table rang out in the midst of silence, Anastasia slowly turning towards her daughter and raising an eyebrow at her presence.
"It's my birthday today, Mummy."
Anastasia let out a huge burp. "Oh. 'Appy birthday, dahlin'." She took another swig of the alcohol. When Bea didn't make any hesitation to move, Anastasia glanced at her again.
"I'd like a present, Mummy. It's my birthday...after all."
"A present?" Anastasia guffawed drunkenly. Bea winced at the sound. "Come 'ere."
Bea didn't move.
"I said, 'Come 'ere'!" Bea walked slowly towards her mother.
"You think that just because it's your special day, I ought to buy you a present? Huh? Answer me, you ungrateful shit!"
Bea's chin wobbled the slightest bit. "N-No, Mummy," she whispered.
But Anastasia was on a drunken roll. "I ain't gonna waste money on stupid crap like you. I got meself to take care of and I don't need stupid shit like you to take care of."
Tears were now streaming along Bea's cheeks. "But, M-Mummy. You t-told me to a-always put p-people b-before you."
"An' what 'appened? I gave birth to a girl who thought that just because it's her special day, everyone should just bow down to you and put on some fireworks show."
"M-Mummy, I never s-said that." Bea regretted ever walking in.
"Shut up! Don't you dare f-cking disagree with me! I've put a roof over your head and taken care of you and this is how you repay me? I oughta just throw you out the streets to the Vessels, you rotten piece of crap!" Anastasia stood up with a flourish, knocking down the bottle of beer.
"Now look what you made me did! I could just-" She wrapped her hands tightly around Bea's neck. "Giving birth to you was a huge mistake. And right now, I'm just gonna end it all."
"Mummy," Bea rasped out, trying to wriggle out of her mother's grip.
"Hold on, I've got around 'ere somewhere...'ere it is!"
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ.
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ.
The young child's eyes widened at the sight of the sharp blade in her mother's hand.
"Mummy, please! Stop it! I'm y-your daughter!"
The mischievous glint in her mother's eyes dimmed considerably for a few moments at the sound of Bea's plea and a shocked gasp escaped from her lips. "Bea...what am I doing?"
Relieved sobs erupted from Bea's lips. "Oh, Mummy. You're okay now. It's okay. The bad spirits were there, Mummy. But you're good now."
Hearing no reply from her mother, Bea slowly opened her eyes. "M-Mummy?"
The knife on which Anastasia was so intent on driving through Bea had been redirected through her own breast. Anastasia stood there for a moment, shocked at the immense pain before smiling weakly at Bea. "Happy birthday, Bea. I love you."
The shocked child watched her mother fall solidly against the floor, still trembling.
And from that day onwards, Bea had never enjoyed or celebrated a single birthday. Never hers. Never anyone's.
Never.
Ｈｏｕｓｅｈｏｌｄ Ｓｔａｔｕｓ
•Anastasia Katharine Maddison ↛ Female Parent; in her influenced state, she succumbed to suicide.
• Unknown Masculine Being; (Chris?) ↛ Unknown Masculine Being ↛ Male Parent; probably alive with another family, a good chance is that he doesn't know he has a daughter.
Ｃｏｎｆｉｇｕｒａｔｉｏｎ ｏｆ Ｓｏｕｌ Ｖｅｓｓｅｌ
The object in which Bea stores her precious soul is a small, simple necklace with a gold teardrop pendant. She was gifted the necklace by her mother when she was three and when it was too big for her to don. At the age of fifteen years, she was rummaging through the attic and came across the box in which the necklace was encased in. Bea assumed her mother had put it there for safekeeping and simply decided that it was the perfect vessel to store her soul in, along with the fact that it seemed to carry a good aura.
Ｍｉｓｃｅｌｌａｎｅｏｕｓ
Nothing to be added as of terms right now.
The young child's eyes widened at the sight of the sharp blade in her mother's hand.
"Mummy, please! Stop it! I'm y-your daughter!"
The mischievous glint in her mother's eyes dimmed considerably for a few moments at the sound of Bea's plea and a shocked gasp escaped from her lips. "Bea...what am I doing?"
Relieved sobs erupted from Bea's lips. "Oh, Mummy. You're okay now. It's okay. The bad spirits were there, Mummy. But you're good now."
Hearing no reply from her mother, Bea slowly opened her eyes. "M-Mummy?"
The knife on which Anastasia was so intent on driving through Bea had been redirected through her own breast. Anastasia stood there for a moment, shocked at the immense pain before smiling weakly at Bea. "Happy birthday, Bea. I love you."
The shocked child watched her mother fall solidly against the floor, still trembling.
And from that day onwards, Bea had never enjoyed or celebrated a single birthday. Never hers. Never anyone's.
Never.
Ｈｏｕｓｅｈｏｌｄ Ｓｔａｔｕｓ
•
• Unknown Masculine Being; (Chris?) ↛ Unknown Masculine Being ↛ Male Parent; probably alive with another family, a good chance is that he doesn't know he has a daughter.
Ｃｏｎｆｉｇｕｒａｔｉｏｎ ｏｆ Ｓｏｕｌ Ｖｅｓｓｅｌ
The object in which Bea stores her precious soul is a small, simple necklace with a gold teardrop pendant. She was gifted the necklace by her mother when she was three and when it was too big for her to don. At the age of fifteen years, she was rummaging through the attic and came across the box in which the necklace was encased in. Bea assumed her mother had put it there for safekeeping and simply decided that it was the perfect vessel to store her soul in, along with the fact that it seemed to carry a good aura.
Ｍｉｓｃｅｌｌａｎｅｏｕｓ
Nothing to be added as of terms right now.
All characters above are approved
A ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʏ ۵ ɢ ʀ ᴀ ᴄ ɪ ᴇ ۵ © (view spoiler)
(view spoiler)
P ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ∞ 1 ↴
☱|Karena \ka(h)- rei-na(h)\
The name Karena is a Greek baby name. In Greek the meaning of the name is pure.People with this name are excited by change, adventure, and excitement. They are dynamic, visionary and versatile, able to make constructive use of freedom. They fight being restricted by rules and conventions.
☲|Felicity \fa(h)-li-si-tee\
The name Felicity is a French baby name. In French the meaning of the name Felicity is great happiness.People with this name are competent, practical, and often obtain great power and wealth. They tend to be successful in business and commercial affairs, and are able to achieve great material dreams.
☴|Ellis \ell(e)-iss\
This ancient surname of many spellings, is a "crusader" import into Europe from the Holy Land. Recorded as Elliss, Elix, Ellice, Eles, Elias, Heelis, and many other forms, it derives from the Greek "Elias", itself from the Hebrew "Eliyahu", and meaning "Jehovah is God".
▄▅▆|Age| 19 years |
▄▅▆|Gender| Feminine |↳xy↰|
▄▅▆|Sexuality| Bisexual |
▄▅▆|Hereditary Origin| ⅓ French, ⅔ American |
▄▅▆|Place of Birth| Outskirts of Chrysous, Armendor |
⇒Date⇒ 23rd March
⇒Time⇒ 4:47 AM
▄▅▆|Zodiac Symbol| Aries ♈ ⇒
⇒Element⇒ Fire
⇒Symbol⇒ The Ram ♈
⇒Planet⇒ Mars ♂
↳Description↰
Aries are fire signs and those born under this element are regarded in astrology as adventurous, active and outgoing. It won't matter where you go or how remote or unusual it is - from the Outback to the Antarctic - you can be sure that an Aries has been there before you (or at the very least you will meet one along the way!) Aries is a uniquely naive sign. Although they are independent, outgoing and assertive they are also surprisingly trusting, often innocently walking into the lion's den at times. No matter what upheaval, challenge or triumph they confront - an Aries has a wonderful ability to bounce back.
Independence is key to Aries astrology, they do not like to take orders from others and enjoy getting their way. They can get childish or moody should they be given orders that they do not like. Aries easily take offense to comments made. Aries are self-involved and can be self-centered, if they do not pay attention to the feelings of others, Aries can easily become spoiled and resented by them.
▄▅▆|Position In Society|▆▅▄
Civilian
The civilians are the commoners of this world, safe or not from the Vessel Traders is another matter. Sometimes leaders of each town will bargain with them and offer a child every month in return for the traders to leave them be.
Karena may not live in the exact area of the big city, but she is still classified as a civilian of Chrysous. Otherwise she could have been dubbed as a believer,but Rena has a strong belief that the soul vessels are simply what they are, and there is no possible way to destroy the Vessel Traders.
██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████
⇒Hair⇒ Ebony
⇒Oculars⇒ Gold (view spoiler)
⇒Skin Pigmentation⇒ Tan
⇒Body Shape⇒ Hourglass
⇒Features⇒ This exemplary specimen is the epitome of beauty, her essential features perfectly proportioned and delicate. Her oculars are slightly larger than in comparison to the average female, yet it brings out a constant expression of innocence which only adds to her sexual appeal. A light splash of freckles cover most of her face mostly concealed due to the golden hue of her skin.
⇒Weight⇒ 123 lbs
⇒Height⇒ 5"5
P ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ∞ 2 ∞ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ↴
(view spoiler)
P ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ∞ 1 ↴
"I ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ-"
▄▅▆|Karena Felicity Ellis|▆▅▄
☱|Karena \ka(h)- rei-na(h)\
The name Karena is a Greek baby name. In Greek the meaning of the name is pure.People with this name are excited by change, adventure, and excitement. They are dynamic, visionary and versatile, able to make constructive use of freedom. They fight being restricted by rules and conventions.
☲|Felicity \fa(h)-li-si-tee\
The name Felicity is a French baby name. In French the meaning of the name Felicity is great happiness.People with this name are competent, practical, and often obtain great power and wealth. They tend to be successful in business and commercial affairs, and are able to achieve great material dreams.
☴|Ellis \ell(e)-iss\
This ancient surname of many spellings, is a "crusader" import into Europe from the Holy Land. Recorded as Elliss, Elix, Ellice, Eles, Elias, Heelis, and many other forms, it derives from the Greek "Elias", itself from the Hebrew "Eliyahu", and meaning "Jehovah is God".
▄▅▆|Age| 19 years |
▄▅▆|Gender| Feminine |↳xy↰|
▄▅▆|Sexuality| Bisexual |
▄▅▆|Hereditary Origin| ⅓ French, ⅔ American |
▄▅▆|Place of Birth| Outskirts of Chrysous, Armendor |
⇒Date⇒ 23rd March
⇒Time⇒ 4:47 AM
▄▅▆|Zodiac Symbol| Aries ♈ ⇒
⇒Element⇒ Fire
⇒Symbol⇒ The Ram ♈
⇒Planet⇒ Mars ♂
↳Description↰
Aries are fire signs and those born under this element are regarded in astrology as adventurous, active and outgoing. It won't matter where you go or how remote or unusual it is - from the Outback to the Antarctic - you can be sure that an Aries has been there before you (or at the very least you will meet one along the way!) Aries is a uniquely naive sign. Although they are independent, outgoing and assertive they are also surprisingly trusting, often innocently walking into the lion's den at times. No matter what upheaval, challenge or triumph they confront - an Aries has a wonderful ability to bounce back.
Independence is key to Aries astrology, they do not like to take orders from others and enjoy getting their way. They can get childish or moody should they be given orders that they do not like. Aries easily take offense to comments made. Aries are self-involved and can be self-centered, if they do not pay attention to the feelings of others, Aries can easily become spoiled and resented by them.
▄▅▆|Position In Society|▆▅▄
Civilian
The civilians are the commoners of this world, safe or not from the Vessel Traders is another matter. Sometimes leaders of each town will bargain with them and offer a child every month in return for the traders to leave them be.
Karena may not live in the exact area of the big city, but she is still classified as a civilian of Chrysous. Otherwise she could have been dubbed as a believer,but Rena has a strong belief that the soul vessels are simply what they are, and there is no possible way to destroy the Vessel Traders.
"Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴜs... ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ʜɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪs ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ-"
▄▅▆|Cᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴇᴀʟ Aᴘᴘᴀʀɪᴛɪᴏɴ|▆▅▄
██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████
▄▅▆|Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Dᴇᴛᴀɪʟs|▆▅▄(view spoiler)
⇒Hair⇒ Ebony
⇒Oculars⇒ Gold (view spoiler)
⇒Skin Pigmentation⇒ Tan
⇒Body Shape⇒ Hourglass
⇒Features⇒ This exemplary specimen is the epitome of beauty, her essential features perfectly proportioned and delicate. Her oculars are slightly larger than in comparison to the average female, yet it brings out a constant expression of innocence which only adds to her sexual appeal. A light splash of freckles cover most of her face mostly concealed due to the golden hue of her skin.
⇒Weight⇒ 123 lbs
⇒Height⇒ 5"5
P ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ∞ 2 ∞ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ↴
P ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ∞ 2
↴
██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████
Karena is classified as a stereotypical young adult, hormones still ruling her life. She is straightforward, unhesitant to demand for what she wants. Do not be mistaken- she works hard for everything she receives, especially in these times of chaos. Karena lives to protect her younger brothers, and with their mother's passing, the boys need a woman to lead their lives in the right direction. Rena attempts to be the lady her mother was, but her feisty temper and contemptuous attitude always resurface after what seems a few minutes. Even as a cantankerous girl, she is the stars to her siblings' night, her being their role model and protector. Rena loves her brothers with an undying affection, and if anything were to happen to them, she would fall into despair. As a fighter, she is quite excelled in that area of expertise. When she was a young girl, her father taught her how to wield a knife with finesse, and Karena would dare to say she has become quite accustomed to the deadly weapon.
Hidden beneath her short temper, Karena holds many confusing emotions in one writhing mass in her heart. Rage is the perfunctory emotion, her hatred for all Vessel Traders outstandingly extensive. Loneliness surrounds her like a wet blanket, cloaking her from any intruders trying to find a way into her heart- there isn't one. Rena misses her parents, her mother now gone from this world and father, whom had his vessel destroyed. The small family's only source of human contact lies within themselves, and sometimes it is maddening for the only company being boys seven years younger than her. Within her caged heart, Karena is a delightful lady who would be a great source of friendship; once you peel back the layer of cynicism and distrust, of course. The only form of kindness and relent is offered to her young brothers, otherwise nobody escapes her fearful wrath. She certainly may not look like a deadly fighter, but nobody knows more than Rena that appearances are as deceiving as the heart.
First impressions mean nothing to Karena, as she won't be sticking around with that specific person for long. She tends to be blunt with her statements, and holds nothing back... except for life-threatening information. When you first come across this bemusing girl, you will find her cautious and suspicious of you, as anybody possessing common sense would. After a few minutes, whichever one of you approaches each other first, she will become irrationally feisty, her protective attitude rising to the surface. It may look quite amusing, to see a girl as innocent as her delivering the spiteful glances she was. In the end, a conversation will eventually ignite as Karena's fatal flaw would be 'curiosity'. Underneath the solid filter she has built over her heart, Rena can be a surprisingly sweet girl, if you give her the chance to reach her full potential.
██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████
Be the change you want to see in the world. From birth, that phrase has been hammered into Karena's mind like nothing else. Her parents were believers in society, and at one point, so was she. Her day of birth was 'joyous', according to her overly excitable parents, their recap of the story going something like this; 'Your birthday? Oh, that was a day to remember. Your father and I were on our way to Chrysous, as we needed more money to support you. I think it was the middle of the night when my contractions started happening sooner, and we had to pull over. The border of Chrysous was still a long way away, so we had to make do with what we had. You were quite a difficult birth, but the strangest thing happened. When you were born, you didn't cry. Not at all. As we bundled you up and rode the rest of the way to Chrysous, you never cried at all. Throughout your whole childhood, not a single tear escaped your eyes. It was strange, as well as the fact that you were so serious for a child of your age."
Karena has never forgotten her mother's words, for she has not cried since their parent's death. Her adolescent life was as her mother said, serious and anti-social. For some reason, Rena never wanted to hang out with other kids her age and was always alone, revisiting her near-perfected fighting and knavery skills. When Rena's two younger twin brothers were born, she was joyous, an emotion her parents were pleasantly surprised with. Even as babies, Karena cared for the two boys as much as her parents, if not, more. They meant everything to her, as she was the world to them.
Karena's teen years were the worst. -Not done
"I ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ғᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ɪ ᴇᴀᴛ..."
██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████Karena is classified as a stereotypical young adult, hormones still ruling her life. She is straightforward, unhesitant to demand for what she wants. Do not be mistaken- she works hard for everything she receives, especially in these times of chaos. Karena lives to protect her younger brothers, and with their mother's passing, the boys need a woman to lead their lives in the right direction. Rena attempts to be the lady her mother was, but her feisty temper and contemptuous attitude always resurface after what seems a few minutes. Even as a cantankerous girl, she is the stars to her siblings' night, her being their role model and protector. Rena loves her brothers with an undying affection, and if anything were to happen to them, she would fall into despair. As a fighter, she is quite excelled in that area of expertise. When she was a young girl, her father taught her how to wield a knife with finesse, and Karena would dare to say she has become quite accustomed to the deadly weapon.
Hidden beneath her short temper, Karena holds many confusing emotions in one writhing mass in her heart. Rage is the perfunctory emotion, her hatred for all Vessel Traders outstandingly extensive. Loneliness surrounds her like a wet blanket, cloaking her from any intruders trying to find a way into her heart- there isn't one. Rena misses her parents, her mother now gone from this world and father, whom had his vessel destroyed. The small family's only source of human contact lies within themselves, and sometimes it is maddening for the only company being boys seven years younger than her. Within her caged heart, Karena is a delightful lady who would be a great source of friendship; once you peel back the layer of cynicism and distrust, of course. The only form of kindness and relent is offered to her young brothers, otherwise nobody escapes her fearful wrath. She certainly may not look like a deadly fighter, but nobody knows more than Rena that appearances are as deceiving as the heart.
First impressions mean nothing to Karena, as she won't be sticking around with that specific person for long. She tends to be blunt with her statements, and holds nothing back... except for life-threatening information. When you first come across this bemusing girl, you will find her cautious and suspicious of you, as anybody possessing common sense would. After a few minutes, whichever one of you approaches each other first, she will become irrationally feisty, her protective attitude rising to the surface. It may look quite amusing, to see a girl as innocent as her delivering the spiteful glances she was. In the end, a conversation will eventually ignite as Karena's fatal flaw would be 'curiosity'. Underneath the solid filter she has built over her heart, Rena can be a surprisingly sweet girl, if you give her the chance to reach her full potential.
██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████▓██████Be the change you want to see in the world. From birth, that phrase has been hammered into Karena's mind like nothing else. Her parents were believers in society, and at one point, so was she. Her day of birth was 'joyous', according to her overly excitable parents, their recap of the story going something like this; 'Your birthday? Oh, that was a day to remember. Your father and I were on our way to Chrysous, as we needed more money to support you. I think it was the middle of the night when my contractions started happening sooner, and we had to pull over. The border of Chrysous was still a long way away, so we had to make do with what we had. You were quite a difficult birth, but the strangest thing happened. When you were born, you didn't cry. Not at all. As we bundled you up and rode the rest of the way to Chrysous, you never cried at all. Throughout your whole childhood, not a single tear escaped your eyes. It was strange, as well as the fact that you were so serious for a child of your age."
Karena has never forgotten her mother's words, for she has not cried since their parent's death. Her adolescent life was as her mother said, serious and anti-social. For some reason, Rena never wanted to hang out with other kids her age and was always alone, revisiting her near-perfected fighting and knavery skills. When Rena's two younger twin brothers were born, she was joyous, an emotion her parents were pleasantly surprised with. Even as babies, Karena cared for the two boys as much as her parents, if not, more. They meant everything to her, as she was the world to them.
Karena's teen years were the worst. -Not done
╯♛ A template brought to you by⤷┊Ｐａｒｏｘｙｓｍａｌ Ａｓｐｈｙｘｉａｔｉｏｎ
| Disclaimer | (view spoiler)
【 Ｆ 】ｅｅｌ ｔｈｅ ｆｅｖｅｒ, ｃａｎ ｙｏｕ ｆｅｅｌ ｉｔ ｎｏｗ?
I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Oɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ; I'ᴍ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ sʜᴇᴇᴘ.
Regan Sotiris Zinovia| Any other pseudonym will be unacceptable. |
『 〓 』• Pronounced | Ray-gun | | So-tire-is | | Zin-o-via |
● First used as a girl's name in the English-speaking world by Shakespeare as the name for one of the two disloyal princesses in his 1606 tragedy "King Lear." Simply a surname used as a girl's name, it simply means Royal; the name was used in a novel "The Exorcist." It is of irish origin.
● The name Sotiris means 'Salvation'. It is of Greek origin, it is a male name and a variant of the name Sotirios. It's often known as a female version is Sotiria. Some famous bearers of this name include the footballers Sotiris Ninis and Sotiris Kyrgiakos and the Greek politician Sotiris Kouvelas.
● The meaning of Zinovia is "life of Zeus". Zinovia, is generally used as a girl's name, it is of the greek origin, though it approached the name scale from Russia, uprising from the name "Zenobia."
Role in Society: Civilian
Age: 18 ⎝ 29th of August 9:12 a.m⎠
Place of birth: Gaellynhal; Land of power
Blood Type: Ａ + - People with blood type A have a deep-rooted strength that helps them stay calm in a crisis when everyone else is panicking. However, they tend to avoid confrontation, and feel very uncomfortable around people. A types are shy and sometimes withdrawn. They seek harmony and are very polite, but all the same feel that they never really fit in with others. A types are very responsible. If there is a job to be done, they prefer to take care of it themselves. These people crave success and are perfectionists. They are also very creative, and the most artistic of all the blood types, most likely because of their sensitivity. People with blood type A are also likely to be considered classic “type A’s”: stressed and conscientious. Blood Type A are shy, introverted perfectionists. They are considerate to others and cannot tell a lie easily. They are loyal to friends and coworkers. They can be secretive, though, and don’t often share their feelings.
Gender: "Boobs, man, aren't they a hint?"
♀ ┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Derived from the feminine chromosome
┗━━━━━━━━━┛『 xx 』
⊱
Sexuality: Heterosexual | Also known as being "straight." Heterosexuality is romantic attraction, sexual attraction or sexual behavior between persons of opposite sex or gender in the gender binary. As a sexual orientation, heterosexuality refers to "an enduring pattern of or disposition to experience sexual, affectionate, physical or romantic attractions to persons of the opposite sex"; it also refers to "an individual’s sense of personal and social identity based on those attractions, behaviors expressing them, and membership in a community of others who share them". The term is usually applied to humans, but it is also observed in all mammals.
Relationship Status:
⊱ Zodiacal symbol: ♍ ➠ Virgo ➠ Virgo's have keen minds, and are delightful to talk with, often convincing others of outlandish tales with ease and charm. Virgo's are inquisitive and are very skilled at drawing information from people. This trait also makes them naturally intuitive. Combine this with their remarkable memories, and we see an advanced, analytical personality. However the Virgo needs balance in their lives otherwise they may become short-tempered, impatient and self-serving. Virgo's are excellent teammates in work and social activities. They work well with others, although they freely express their opinions (even when unwarranted).
Virgo is earthy and represents the sixth sign of the zodiac. They belong to a group of people known for their perfectionism and highly analytical minds. There's a bit of a joke about how precise and demanding Virgos are but when you think about it, what's wrong with being tidy, organised and clean? In a way, Virgo's are misunderstood and their attention to detail, the desire for excellence and hygiene is not as bad as some might think.
⊱██ ▌║ːː ❛ Ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ ▬▬▬▬ Tʜᴇ ʙᴏᴅʏ ◣
▐ Physique (view spoiler)
▐ Tattoo(s) (view spoiler)
|| ♛ || Regan is okay, okay meaning that she's one of the few that are mentally stable- she's one of the clever but slightly narcissistic, in a world like this, who isn't? She's got one of the bright smiles, her laughs are very contagious and sometimes even can lead to death, if she wished to take you with her off of a cliff you'd say yes in a second. She's undesirable, she doesn't mean to be, it just happens. Though don't get me wrong, she loves to play, she loves to mess with any boy she can wrap her finger around. She's a little bitter from time to time, but she learns to love the moment once she's in it, but don't let her innocence fool you, everyone has their faults. When she turned fifteen she let cigarettes and drugs engulf her completely, maybe that's why the Vessel Traders decide not to kidnap her, she's ruined her body more than she admits it to be. She's cut, she's drank, she does everything her hands can wrap around. Right now, she loves losing herself in cigarettes- she likes to imagine the world different from the one they make it. You can get close, you can hold her, but danger has got it's fingers on her, and it isn't letting go anytime soon.
Regan has always had curly red hair, sometimes it can appear to be blonde but other times it's just dark red- like a flame, like a flame that is destroying something. Her eyes are blue, oceanic blue, like the color of the sky, they aren't the best but they shine bright when a smile comes across her face. She's not too tall at 5'6, and weighs around 134 pounds, if you're lucky you can pick her up and see how light she is. If you want to be hit, that is. She's got a unique figure, almost like a tree- she's skinny but yet wide, quite confusing. Don't get me wrong, she's amazing, but if you're thinking of being her boyfriend, friend, there is one key you must have- patience. When a girl is bipolar and broken, it's hard to put her back together again, sometimes all she needs a hug.
Eye Color: Ocean blue, but somehow light. It depends on the lighting, and how you look at it; she's unique- this is true. (view spoiler)
Height: 5'6.3 in height and inches.
Weight: 134.9 pounds.
Ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕａｔｉｏｎ ｄｏｗｎｗａｒｄｓ ↓
♛ ⋮↑ ( ☪ ) ↓◞Ｓｅｅｄｓ
Tᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɪʀs, ᴡᴏʀɴ ʙʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜsᴛ.
Yᴏᴜ ʀᴇғᴜsᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀɴᴅ, ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs.
♚ ▌▌▌▌ Regan was the name that popped into the young teenage girls mind, as she stare down at that white crib she can't help but smile, her other son seemed to be jumping around with the toys- how did she turn out to be this way? She had a life before the Vessel Traders took over her life, before she was forced to do things she never would've considered doing. Now she was giving her baby away to an orphanage, David would join her in the cabin far away from the Vessel Traders. Regan and David would have a nice life until-- well sometime. Handing the woman dressed in a stitched dress her baby, she call for David- merely in seconds he come running over. "Mommy, look what I found!" Holding a small snail in his hand, the five year old smile widely at his mother. Lilith crouch down onto her knees, gently placing her hands on David's forearms she pull him close in a hug. "Mrs. Potts is going to take you far away." Pulling back David's eyes widen, "why?" The crack in his voice broke her heart, it made her eyes sting. "I'll visit you sometime." Her mouth was becoming slippery, her words made of water- how was she going to do this? "But-" Lilith clear her throat and scold her son. "You listen, you take care of your sister for me." Rubbing the side of his head, she feel her hands trembling. "Yes ma'am." She pat his shoulders, lifting her head to kiss his forehead, his eyes amazingly resembling her own. "You be a good soldier." She kiss his forehead gently, a bundle of her tears landing on his cheeks. Letting go of her son she watch as he enter the car, waving at his mother; wondering when he'd see her face once again.
A year later, another Zinovia arrived to the cabin, the mother was never seen again. Her face ended up on the paper two weeks later, dead.
Thank god Derian was there when the crap went down, who knows what Mrs. Potts would do without him, having three Zinovia's in the same house was quite hard. Fighting, screaming, so much crap was going on at once. "Give me my toy, David!" A moment later, a thump follows another. "Dude! Stop it Daniel!" Four seconds after- "REGAN!" Someone ended up with a broken bone, if not that then a bruise. After ten years of the bickering, the orphanage could finally let them go if they wanted to. They waited until David turned eighteen before setting them off on their way, though they didn't go far. They went straight to the cabin in the mountains, this wasn't a very good decision.
♚ ▌▌▌▌ If you want to know about the cabin ordeal, you'll just have to read below, but right now you can hear about how annoying the family was. Good, right? No, it isn't. Though Regan was adorable and helpful she was also loud and jumpy, she did everything and anything. On Friday nights they found her escaping the cabin and into the woods to "find a mommy." In a way it broke their little hearts- living in the woods so cut off everyone tends to get lonely. At least they have each other, right?
Regan has always had curly hair and blue eyes, that's what caught everyone's attention. The little boys in the house fell for her, though they were usually pushed aside because of Regan's rough attitude. She was always hard to win over- so stubborn.
When she turned thirteen she learned how to use a gun, surprisingly Derian taught her how to; in a world like this you have to learn to defend yourself. When she turned fourteen she learned how to properly use a knife- Derian didn't have much time to teach her how to fight because a year later she and her brothers moved into the high mountains. Little did they know of the dangers of the forest.
Ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕａｔｉｏｎ ｄｏｗｎｗａｒｄｓ ↓
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ♠║ ▌███ ♛ ███ ▌║♠ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Tʜᴇ sᴋʏ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ - ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟᴀᴅᴅᴇʀ-ғᴜʟʟ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴs ᴏɴ ᴡʜʏ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ
◟♔ ░░░░░░░░░ ↓˟ i'm a shade of lonely.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ♠║ ▌███ ♛ ███ ▌║♠ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
♕ ⋮ Ｉｄｉｏｓｙｎｃｒａｓｉｅｓ
▇▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇ ( ♛) ▇▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇
Ｄｅｌｉｂｅｒａｔｅ ＆ Ｉｎｓｃｒｕｔａｂｌｅ
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
❝ Touch me there again and I'll break your face- I mean it. ❞
Regan is a butt, it's a fact. All she does is keep quiet and when she's talking she might as well cut your head off. In a way, she means well, but she's bitter and stubborn; you have to be pretty impressive to get on this girls good side. Regan is jittery, hyper, and can often be a little too loud. She loves having fun, but at the same time she loves writing and being in serene places- along with her glasses. She likes perfection, I won't lie, but she also doesn't care if a place is disgusting where she goes. All I can say is that she's very confusing, she's very strange: as I said before she's bipolar.
She's been smoking weed since she was fourteen, it's been a horrible habit that she can't shake off. When they moved into the cabin high in the woods with David and Daniel, she went crazy. They took away her weed, her alcohol, anything that could hurt her. She got into the car and drove, but unfortunately the car broke down and she had to walk home in the rain, David found her screaming. "Something! Anything! You guys can't keep me here forever!" But they seemed to do just that, when she threw up and told them that something bad was happening they thought it was just her wanting her weed again.
But it wasn't weed that was making her crazy; she saw him, she saw The Vessel Traders. "There was something in the woods." They rolled their eyes and locked her in the room, when they heard a knock at the door they widened their eyes. David at twenty, Regan at fifteen, and Daniel at fourteen, they didn't know what to do. David shunned Daniel into Regan's room, where he held his sister tight. David opened the door with a slight smile, "yes?" The Vessel Traders were already looking left and right through the door. "You haven't confirmed your existence, are you the only one living here?" David nod his head, looking down at the paper he couldn't help but feel nervous. "We'll need to do an inspection." David was panicking on the inside, but in reality he looked just fine. "Let me clean up, the place looks horrible." The Vessel Traders seemed to be onto him, "it's fine." David nod and smile at them, stepping back as if to let them through but then bam! He immediately slam the door shut and lock it up with the various locks. "Daniel! Regan! Hurry, leave now!"
Regan and Daniel were out the window in about two minutes, just as the same time as it took the Vessel Traders to come inside the house. Regan had grabbed her bag and the snail that David kept in his pocket; he'd want it back when he met up with them. They ran through the woods, keeping their heads up high and their hearing higher. When they were halfway through the woods they heard a gunshot. "DAVID!"
♕ ⋮ S ᴋ ɪ ʟ ʟ s & A ʙ ɪ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ɪ ᴇ s
▇▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇ ( ♛) ▇▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇
❛ STRENGTHS ☇ ♛
• Empathy
Usually people with strong empathy can sense the feelings of other people by imagining themselves in others' lives or others' situations, Regan does this frequently- keeping herself open-minded.
• Strategic
Regan can create alternative ways to proceed, meaning that if she's faced with any given scenario, she can quickly spot the relevant patterns and issues.
• Activator
Regan can make things happen by turning her thoughts into action, often known as just being impatient.
• Focus
Regan can take a direction, follow through, and make the corrections necessary to stay on track. She prioritize's and then acts- in other words she thinks before doing something crazy.
❛ WEAKNESSES ☇ ♛
• Communication
She finds life easier when you keep quiet and the others keep their mouths shut; humans can be so annoying sometimes.
• Impatient
When one messes with Regan too much she'll throw her hands around and her face may even turn red- she's always been this way.
• Contemptuous
Regan often scolds another when they do something wrong, it's become a habit of hers to show someone what it is they're doing wrong.
• Loose-tongued
Also known as unrestrained, she constantly runs her mouth and talks back, she doesn't know when to stop.
◜｡ ░ ♔ ━━ INDULGENCES ˟ ˟」
██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██
◜ █ ♔ Walks
◜ █ ♔ Silence
◜ █ ♔ Cooking
◜ █ ♔ Baths
◜ █ ♔ Music- who doesn't?
◜ █ ♔ Baked potatoes
◜ █ ♔ Swings
◜ █ ♔ Swimming
◜ █ ♔ Poems
◜ █ ♔ Hot cocoa
◜｡ ░ ♔ ━━ ANTAGONISTS ˟ ˟」
██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██ * ██
◜ █ ♔ Noise
◜ █ ♔ Cats
◜ █ ♔ Hiking
◜ █ ♔ Spiders
◜ █ ♔ Sweat
◜ █ ♔ Most children- all they do is cry
◜ █ ♔ Sexists
◜ █ ♔ Taking demands
❝ HOBBIES ♔ ! ♥²
↯ ▍Cooking- again
↯ ▍Painting- only sometimes
↯ ▍Writing
↯ ▍Singing
↯ ▍Dancing
↯ ▍Knife-throwing- does that count?
↯ ▍Photography
♕ ⋮ Ｆｒｉｅｎｄｓ & Ｆａｍｉｌｙ
▇▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇ ( ♛) ▇▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇
David Jeunetive Zinovia
( ✗ ) ╯x ┊❝ Older brother | Deceased ▍▍▍▍ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ - 9 out of 10
Daniel Oncolulive Zinovia
( ✗ ) ╯x ┊❝ Younger brother | Alive ▍▍▍▍ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ - 10 out of 10
Lilith Zinovia
( ✗ ) ╯x ┊❝ Mother | Deceased ▍▍▍▍ ♥♥♥♥ - 4 out of 10
Derian Sutliff
( ✗ ) ╯x ┊❝ Father figure | Alive ▍▍▍▍ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ - 8 out of 10
A ₩ ｉ S Ｅ␟ template brought to you by ➽ ✪ Wise 유리
( © Aʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. Wɪsᴇ Oᴡʟ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ. )
{ Disclaimer } ☞ (view spoiler) ☜
❝ Nᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏ,
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Iᴛ's ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ I ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.
▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Wʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Lᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡɪɴɢs ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ғʟɪɢʜᴛ. ❞
Giselle Adeline Pascale | Gia or Gigi to those she is close to and trusts. |
『 ≎ 』 • Pronounced ⇢ | Jih-ZELL | | A-də-LEEN | | Pas-kahl |
✽ The name, Giselle, is from Old German gesel, meaning to "pledge". The appellation may have originally been a descriptive nickname for a child given as a pledge to a foreign court. It was borne by a daughter of the French king Charles III who married the Norman leader Rollo in the 10th century. The name was popular in France during the Middle Ages (the more common French form is Gisèle). Though it became known in the English-speaking world due to Adolphe Adam's ballet 'Giselle' (1841), it was not regularly used until the 20th century.
✽ The name Adeline is of Old German origin, the meaning of it being "noble". The alias, introduced to England by the Normans in the eleventh century, was very common during the Middle Ages, but then succumbed to ultimate nihility until the Victorian Gothic era, where it was brought back to revival.
✽ Pascale is a common Francophone given name, the feminine form of the name Pascal, and an Italian masculine given name; the ancient form of Pasquale (Paschale). Pascale derives from the Latin paschalis or pashalis, which means "relating to Easter" from Latin pascha (Easter). Pascale can also be derived from the Hebrew pesach, which means "to be born on, or to be associated with, Passover day". Since the Hebrew holiday Passover coincides closely with the later Christian holiday of Easter, the Latin word came to be used for both occasions.
Role in Society: Civilian.
Age: Seventeen of years. {17} ■ 5th of April; 10:59 PM. ■
➟ Birthplace: Chrysous, the home of millions.
Gender: ♀ Of feminine origin. [xx]
➟ Blood Type: Ａ ↦ ʀʜ ɴᴇɢᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ
➟ Sexuality: Heterosexual
➟ Relationship Status: ... You're kidding, right?
|➲| ℤodiacal Symbol: [♈] - Aries (The Ram)
❝ An Aries born on April 5 is a natural aristocrat, has a high opinion of themselves and may even be self-centered. However, that attitude in no way influences their ability to interact with others or to be likeable. They possess a sense of destiny and may often find themselves involved in unusual circumstances. Their best trait is unabashed honesty. ❞
Health is an important factor in life. Seriously. If you want to live, ya gotta be healthy. And if you're an Aries, you're in luck because these individuals have a great abundance of energy and thus illnesses are rare. Because of their mercurial disposition, however, overwork may bring migraine headaches or mental exhaustion. To retain their natural good health, they need to drink an abundance of water each day.
Friendship is a neutral thing for them. While they do value it, they will always look to themselves for answers and inspiration. Temperamental by nature, they make emotionally combative lovers, but they are always honest about their feelings.
Family can be a bit difficult for them, too. The Aries natives may have a contentious relationship with family members, perhaps based upon competition fostered during their youth. They make loving but demanding parents. They have great plans for their offspring and may find it difficult to understand if a son or daughter harbors more modest aims.
Finance might seem like the only area in which Aries are humble in, though. They aren't as interested in accumulating money for themselves as they are in displaying their abilities in managing financial affairs. For this reason, they often seek careers in finance. Honesty and integrity underscore their professional efforts. Money is rarely an enticement to follow a particular career path. They have a lively intelligence and curiosity, which makes them fine educators.
ރ ██ ⊱ ᴀᴘᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ｓᴜʙｓᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ⇢ Ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌ Ｃｏｎｓｔｉｔｕｔｉｏｎ
(view spoiler)
Sᴛᴀᴛɪsᴛɪᴄs ⇊
▼ Coiffure Pigmentation: A deep dark chestnut that can be alluded to black due to common excuses for lighting and the rich amounts of eumelanin that grace the lovely vibrissa. The low density of its hue and the additional shine that embellishes the simple coiffure can be used as additional evidence to support one's ignorance in the fact that black hair simply cannot exist. However, the trivial matter of classifying the pigmentation of Giselle's hair has still not been resolved and thus there are many opinions beheld of it.
▼ Ocular Pigmentation: Born of heterochromic ocular, Giselle has the shade of molten gray in her left eye and the right being a warm yet dark pool of chocolate, nearing hazel. The best of both worlds, you could say, having the cold and the warm, both framed by equally long eyelashes. Emotionwise, Giselle's eyes can switch from one to another in spasmodic haste. Only one skilled enough to learn her well might stand a chance at reading her eyes.
▼ Overall Stature: 168.91cm centimeters - 5' 6.5" feet
▼ Overall Mass: 53 kilograms - 116.84 pounds
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ｑｕｉｎｔｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
Supercilious ≛
↪ 8//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Raised and doted on with such acerbity and causticity, Giselle was never praised for any excellence she managed to achieve - whether of academics or social skills. No one scarcely acknowledged how she managed to procure the position of being at the top of the class in terms of academics. Her beauty was only cast upon with a fleeting glance. And how she managed to juggle her time well with practicing the piano and doing ballet along with schoolwork was only presumed that anybody could do it, possibly even better than how Giselle did. And thus Giselle was left in a pool of insecurity starting from a young age. Having heard no source of encouragement or praise from her family, she had to depend on any compliment that might befall from the lips of her teachers - and even from them, any source of flattery was uncommon.
And so it became that as Giselle became older, she found that the only way to find felicity was to acknowledge her strengths by herself. Truthfully, it was the only way for her to gain confidence in today's harsh society. The birth of her arrogance started with a few innocent comments such as, "Oh, wow. I'm good at this." Soon they accumulated in the sense of comparing her work and finding fault in others. Subjects such as penmanship and athletics came to be many of the terms in which she kept an eye on others and almost always considered herself superior to others.
At current stance, Giselle can now list off her aptitudes with ease - like a child who was taught to recite a poem. But do not expect of her to flaunt so at every moment. Giselle is not all beauty and no brains. Thus, she knows when to utilize the perfect moment for such boasting.
But alas everyone is born with some imperfections - even Giselle - and so she does not choose to pinpoint at her weaknesses. Rather, she maintains a facade of perfection, a shield none has managed to crack. Yet.
Alluring ≛
↪ 10//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
As emphasized possibly throughout, Giselle is quite a vision to behold. Though nothing is wrong to think that you are attractive - especially with such an insecure gender as the females - Giselle knows of her apparent beauty too well and thus is a keypoint when it comes to the perfect moment to use it against powerless, lusty males. Simply turn on those soulful eyes and bam, she's got that rhinestone necklace she was pointedly looking at.
Seduction is a language Giselle is fluent in. But she is not willing to being the submissive part of touch; she worries that it might backfire on her and she will not have a say in the course of such intimate action; she wants to remain dominant and always maintain it. So don't you go trying to lay a hand on her unless you wish to end up dead, drained of your precious blood.
Technically, Giselle could simply turn on her charm and get whatever she wants. Call it deception, if you'd like, but Giselle thinks it's a gift to have such power over someone. It's simply wonderful to possess such a thing and know it. But Giselle isn't all about nefariousness, so she only knows to use her magic wisely.
Truculent ≛
↪ 7//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Giselle isn't all sweets and sunshine, though. In fact, don't even bring up etiquette and being formal. In all honesty, she doesn't give a damn. I mean, sure, you won't see her smearing spaghetti sauce all over the table and licking her fingers (mostly; there are exceptions), but to ask her to speak politely at a designated volume, well, for her, that's too much. She'll oblige as much as she wants to, and if anyone dares to disagree, she'll see to their misfortune quite happily.
As for patience, our dear Giselle was born to have little at starters. A snide comment dropped carelessly may result in an unfairly harsh retort. Pinch her and you get a painful ear twisting. And if you even dare lay a simple finger on her fair skin and try to get her in bed (without her consent, of course) , well, let's hope you get a decent funeral for your "unexplained" demise.
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ.
( © Aʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. Wɪsᴇ Oᴡʟ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ. )
{ Disclaimer } ☞ (view spoiler) ☜
❝ Nᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏ,
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Iᴛ's ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ I ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.
▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅
Wʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Lᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡɪɴɢs ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ғʟɪɢʜᴛ. ❞
Giselle Adeline Pascale | Gia or Gigi to those she is close to and trusts. |
『 ≎ 』 • Pronounced ⇢ | Jih-ZELL | | A-də-LEEN | | Pas-kahl |
✽ The name, Giselle, is from Old German gesel, meaning to "pledge". The appellation may have originally been a descriptive nickname for a child given as a pledge to a foreign court. It was borne by a daughter of the French king Charles III who married the Norman leader Rollo in the 10th century. The name was popular in France during the Middle Ages (the more common French form is Gisèle). Though it became known in the English-speaking world due to Adolphe Adam's ballet 'Giselle' (1841), it was not regularly used until the 20th century.
✽ The name Adeline is of Old German origin, the meaning of it being "noble". The alias, introduced to England by the Normans in the eleventh century, was very common during the Middle Ages, but then succumbed to ultimate nihility until the Victorian Gothic era, where it was brought back to revival.
✽ Pascale is a common Francophone given name, the feminine form of the name Pascal, and an Italian masculine given name; the ancient form of Pasquale (Paschale). Pascale derives from the Latin paschalis or pashalis, which means "relating to Easter" from Latin pascha (Easter). Pascale can also be derived from the Hebrew pesach, which means "to be born on, or to be associated with, Passover day". Since the Hebrew holiday Passover coincides closely with the later Christian holiday of Easter, the Latin word came to be used for both occasions.
Role in Society: Civilian.
Age: Seventeen of years. {17} ■ 5th of April; 10:59 PM. ■
➟ Birthplace: Chrysous, the home of millions.
Gender: ♀ Of feminine origin. [xx]
➟ Blood Type: Ａ ↦ ʀʜ ɴᴇɢᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ
➟ Sexuality: Heterosexual
➟ Relationship Status: ... You're kidding, right?
|➲| ℤodiacal Symbol: [♈] - Aries (The Ram)
❝ An Aries born on April 5 is a natural aristocrat, has a high opinion of themselves and may even be self-centered. However, that attitude in no way influences their ability to interact with others or to be likeable. They possess a sense of destiny and may often find themselves involved in unusual circumstances. Their best trait is unabashed honesty. ❞
Health is an important factor in life. Seriously. If you want to live, ya gotta be healthy. And if you're an Aries, you're in luck because these individuals have a great abundance of energy and thus illnesses are rare. Because of their mercurial disposition, however, overwork may bring migraine headaches or mental exhaustion. To retain their natural good health, they need to drink an abundance of water each day.
Friendship is a neutral thing for them. While they do value it, they will always look to themselves for answers and inspiration. Temperamental by nature, they make emotionally combative lovers, but they are always honest about their feelings.
Family can be a bit difficult for them, too. The Aries natives may have a contentious relationship with family members, perhaps based upon competition fostered during their youth. They make loving but demanding parents. They have great plans for their offspring and may find it difficult to understand if a son or daughter harbors more modest aims.
Finance might seem like the only area in which Aries are humble in, though. They aren't as interested in accumulating money for themselves as they are in displaying their abilities in managing financial affairs. For this reason, they often seek careers in finance. Honesty and integrity underscore their professional efforts. Money is rarely an enticement to follow a particular career path. They have a lively intelligence and curiosity, which makes them fine educators.
ރ ██ ⊱ ᴀᴘᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ｓᴜʙｓᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ⇢ Ｐｈｙｓｉｃａｌ Ｃｏｎｓｔｉｔｕｔｉｏｎ
(view spoiler)
Sᴛᴀᴛɪsᴛɪᴄs ⇊
▼ Coiffure Pigmentation: A deep dark chestnut that can be alluded to black due to common excuses for lighting and the rich amounts of eumelanin that grace the lovely vibrissa. The low density of its hue and the additional shine that embellishes the simple coiffure can be used as additional evidence to support one's ignorance in the fact that black hair simply cannot exist. However, the trivial matter of classifying the pigmentation of Giselle's hair has still not been resolved and thus there are many opinions beheld of it.
▼ Ocular Pigmentation: Born of heterochromic ocular, Giselle has the shade of molten gray in her left eye and the right being a warm yet dark pool of chocolate, nearing hazel. The best of both worlds, you could say, having the cold and the warm, both framed by equally long eyelashes. Emotionwise, Giselle's eyes can switch from one to another in spasmodic haste. Only one skilled enough to learn her well might stand a chance at reading her eyes.
▼ Overall Stature: 168.91cm centimeters - 5' 6.5" feet
▼ Overall Mass: 53 kilograms - 116.84 pounds
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ｑｕｉｎｔｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
Supercilious ≛
↪ 8//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Raised and doted on with such acerbity and causticity, Giselle was never praised for any excellence she managed to achieve - whether of academics or social skills. No one scarcely acknowledged how she managed to procure the position of being at the top of the class in terms of academics. Her beauty was only cast upon with a fleeting glance. And how she managed to juggle her time well with practicing the piano and doing ballet along with schoolwork was only presumed that anybody could do it, possibly even better than how Giselle did. And thus Giselle was left in a pool of insecurity starting from a young age. Having heard no source of encouragement or praise from her family, she had to depend on any compliment that might befall from the lips of her teachers - and even from them, any source of flattery was uncommon.
And so it became that as Giselle became older, she found that the only way to find felicity was to acknowledge her strengths by herself. Truthfully, it was the only way for her to gain confidence in today's harsh society. The birth of her arrogance started with a few innocent comments such as, "Oh, wow. I'm good at this." Soon they accumulated in the sense of comparing her work and finding fault in others. Subjects such as penmanship and athletics came to be many of the terms in which she kept an eye on others and almost always considered herself superior to others.
At current stance, Giselle can now list off her aptitudes with ease - like a child who was taught to recite a poem. But do not expect of her to flaunt so at every moment. Giselle is not all beauty and no brains. Thus, she knows when to utilize the perfect moment for such boasting.
But alas everyone is born with some imperfections - even Giselle - and so she does not choose to pinpoint at her weaknesses. Rather, she maintains a facade of perfection, a shield none has managed to crack. Yet.
Alluring ≛
↪ 10//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
As emphasized possibly throughout, Giselle is quite a vision to behold. Though nothing is wrong to think that you are attractive - especially with such an insecure gender as the females - Giselle knows of her apparent beauty too well and thus is a keypoint when it comes to the perfect moment to use it against powerless, lusty males. Simply turn on those soulful eyes and bam, she's got that rhinestone necklace she was pointedly looking at.
Seduction is a language Giselle is fluent in. But she is not willing to being the submissive part of touch; she worries that it might backfire on her and she will not have a say in the course of such intimate action; she wants to remain dominant and always maintain it. So don't you go trying to lay a hand on her unless you wish to end up dead, drained of your precious blood.
Technically, Giselle could simply turn on her charm and get whatever she wants. Call it deception, if you'd like, but Giselle thinks it's a gift to have such power over someone. It's simply wonderful to possess such a thing and know it. But Giselle isn't all about nefariousness, so she only knows to use her magic wisely.
Truculent ≛
↪ 7//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Giselle isn't all sweets and sunshine, though. In fact, don't even bring up etiquette and being formal. In all honesty, she doesn't give a damn. I mean, sure, you won't see her smearing spaghetti sauce all over the table and licking her fingers (mostly; there are exceptions), but to ask her to speak politely at a designated volume, well, for her, that's too much. She'll oblige as much as she wants to, and if anyone dares to disagree, she'll see to their misfortune quite happily.
As for patience, our dear Giselle was born to have little at starters. A snide comment dropped carelessly may result in an unfairly harsh retort. Pinch her and you get a painful ear twisting. And if you even dare lay a simple finger on her fair skin and try to get her in bed (without her consent, of course) , well, let's hope you get a decent funeral for your "unexplained" demise.
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ.
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ.
Psychotic ≛
↪ 6//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
At times, it's possible for Giselle to appear as mentally deranged. With the addition of her truculence, people who lie at her hands are definitely in deep sh-t. Whether or not she has a valid reason for torturing her unfortunate victims is not clear. All it matters is that they appear dead at her hands.
It has not been possible, however, for many to anticipate when exactly she will strike. And thus this puts them in grave danger. A little slip of their headed destination to someone who he or she trusts can evolve into the location where his or her death will take place. Needless to say, trust is a crucial thing when involving in a relationship with her, one kinship where she can appear happy and dandy with you at times, pretending everything is jolly well good, only to then stab you in the back when you least expect it.
A good word of advice, if you wish to live: Don't test her patience and be wary at all times.
Sententious ≛
↪ 9//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
However negative most of her attributes might be, Giselle has the surprising gift of eloquence, striking importance in almost everything she says. In almost any conversation, the receptor of Giselle's words can react dumbfounded and shock thus could allow a falter or a stutter in his/her words. However, Giselle takes her gift to use in the most advantageous of situations, one primarily involving taking people down a peg. At times, though, Giselle can sweeten up and express a genuine concern for one's suffering. One such conversation has been opinionated by the receptor of being in such a colloquy with Giselle.
"Giselle certainly...has a way with words. I myself can be found stammering or such when having a simple conversation with her. She has an incredible patience when it comes to listening and thus so, since it seems that she only does the listening part in a conversation, it can be surprising and spasmodic in expectations when hearing her speak. I so couldn't have gotten through my last break-up without her." // Remained Anonymous; Comforted Teen.
║▀▀▀✫▀▀▀ ǫᴜɪɴᴛᴇssᴇɴᴄᴇ sᴜᴍ-ᴜᴘ ▀▀▀✫▀▀▀║
In general, though, Giselle may seem like an arrogant priss who is solely obsessed with herself but really, once you get to know her, she'll slowly reveal herself to be that girl who glimmers through the simplest of things, that girl who has been broken and can only be resurrected through a committed and trustworthy relationship. But the antecedental shards that make up her are slowly being sealed by the infamous facade she well practices. Someone needs to save her from falling into the abyss of faux before she wholly becomes a person she truly isn't.
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ａｎｔｅｃｅｄｅｎｔａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
▀▀ Aᴘʀɪʟ 5ᴛʜ: 10:59 PM. ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀
The night never felt as cold as it was at the moment. Wispy branches swayed against the mordant breeze, rustling in accordance to the slow yet continuous descent of the familiar feathery ice crystals that were commonly associated with winter. Condensation had long begun to gather upon the windows of the quaint bungalow, blurring the dim lights that illuminated the interiors of the small house. Twas strange for it to snow at this moment. But the civilians revealed no special interest to divulge their curiosity of the unexpected precipitation. On this early morning, the houses that lined up the street were submissive, as usual, to the darkness that befell with the night, the residents of them tucked safely in bed, each comforted with the warmth that came with being bundled up in blankets. All except one, that is.
The house number 783 on Aprevska Lane was known very well for the current couple residing; the Pascales. The masculine, Aleksander, was notably known for sharing the blood of the greatest Russian poet, Pushkin, and the feminine, Ariana, her unique ocular pigmentation. Needless to say, the happily-married, young couple were frequently admired and envied by many and none had the doubts that if they wished to conceive, their offspring will nonetheless inherit its parent's allure.
This night was particularly auspicious for the debonair family of two. After many willing tries, the couple managed to procure success in conception. Thrilled at first at the prospect of starting a family, the couple set about themselves to wait patiently whilst trying to stifle the irritation with waiting during the gestational period of their fetus.
But all that waiting was done. The couple were finally going to be blessed with a lovely child.
With such optimism infused in both the feminine's and masculine's minds, the birth went well. Labor did not require immense strength and agony; at a young age, Anastasia proved to be incapable of hurting someone before she adopted to a more sadistic nature in her later years. All that was needed was a couple of pushes and a few grunts before the baby Ariana and Aleksander had waited so long for was delivered.
"She is here."
A small frown broke over Ariana's slightly exhausted countenance. She pushed back her matted hair, crossing her arms across her chest. "She? I have given birth to a girl?" Her voice was incredulous, bordering on the edge of tears. All those times she and Aleksander had discussed of their baby, they had used the pronoun him to refer to it. Oh, how they had plans for him; enrolling him in chess, basketball, ice hockey. And now they came crashing down, like glass shattering upon the rough cement of a beton sidewalk.
Sensing the hurt that had started to cross upon Ariana, the midwife, Katarina, quickly leaped to the defense of the newborn child. "A female child is good as well, Madame," she hesitantly lumbered over her words. The last thing she wanted was for this child to be abandoned like the many girls whom were petulantly discarded by their mothers. "I mean, bozhe moy! She can be an Olympic gymnast, a ballet dancer...er...the possibilities are endless, no?"
Upon hearing nothing from his wife, Aleksander suddenly knocked upon the door frantically. "Is everything alright?"
"Alright? Oh, yes. Everything's jolly well fine," Ariana replied bitterly. Aleksander tentatively walked in, worry adding a slight crinkle just above his eyebrows.
"It is a girl," the midwife whispered. The silence that filled the room was impeccable. No word escaped from Aleksander's lips, though he strained to say something. The shock of being the father of a girl was...surprising.
"Oh, well, what's the use of mulling over something like this," Ariana snapped. "I promised Mamochka I would let her see the child, so there's no hope in throwing it out to the streets." She sighed theatrically, as if this was too much to ask of her, and turned reluctantly to Katarina, who stood loyally, holding the bundle that encased the strangely silent infant. "Let me see it." Her tone was still bitter.
The midwife hesitated before placing the wrapped infant in the waiting arms of the mother. The child had certainly inherited the eyes of its mother and the smile of her father. A peal of musical giggles erupted from its lips at upon finally acknowledged by Ariana. The young woman traced a gentle finger along the baby's cheek before smirking. "Look, Aleksander. It's bald like Khrushchev."
The baby now stared confusedly at its mother, not knowing that it had committed crime of denying its mother to be in the form of the opposite gender she so longed for.
Aleksander was more merciful than his wife, smiling slightly. "Ah, but she will have beautiful hair like her mother." Ariana smiled at the internal compliment but did not say any more, looking at the midwife. "Thank you for your assistance in carrying out my daughter's birth. You may leave now, Katarina."
The midwife stood there, biting her lip. "But you need to name her."
"What?" Ariana ran a hand through her hair.
"Your baby," she gestured to the bundle she was holding. "You forgot to name her."
"Oh," the two lovers stared at each other. They had long decided the baby's name, confident that it would be a male. Having a daughter was only surprising to them. "Um..."
"How about Giselle?" Katarina bit her tongue, shutting her mouth. It was certainly not her place to address what name an infant should have, but these new parents held such sexist views that she could not help herself.
"I like it," the wife nodded. Her husband quickly followed suit. "Giselle, it shall be."
After a few more parting remarks of thanks and utter gratitude, Katarina slowly descended down the stairs and out the door, adjusting her scarf and buttoning up her parka. How remarkable it was to witness such indifference in the parents' demeanors once they had found out they had a daughter. Now, such thing was common for Russian couples who wished to have a male so that he would carry on to support his family. But to have the utter grace for it to be a mere afterthought to appellate the child? That was unjustly harsh.
For a moment, Katarina stood there, thinking of marching back in and offering to take their daughter under her wing and lavish her with such care. The Pascales would all the more push the infant towards her and laugh in glee. Even more so, they would even encourage her to leave the baby to the Vessel Traders.
But her thoughts quickly dwindled to the fact that it was not proper to do so. Even if her heart bled for the poor baby.
Katarina sighed before shaking her head and slowly walking away from 783 Aprevska Lane to her own humble abode. Numerous times did she look back at the house. And each time she closed her eyes and sighed. Whispering, "Mne tak zhal' , Giselle."
"I'm so sorry, Giselle."
▀▀ Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 11ᴛʜ: 12:34 PM. ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀
Ever since Giselle's unfortunate birth had graced the Pascale family, her parents took it upon as a chore to neglect her. By the time, at least thirteen years had passed and in the duration, the couple managed to conceive, this time successfully securing the masculine status for the second child. This was certainly enough for the Pascales to fully continue their plan of ignoring Giselle and instead devote their fullest attention to tending to the needs of their son, who was christened proudly after the prince of all Russian folklore; Rurik.
Meanwhile, Giselle fared the harsh agony that followed her family's determination to shun her out of their shame. Rurik quickly learned his place to be the dominant child of the household, inflicting slaps and pulling at Giselle's hair. Their parents did nothing to stop Rurik's abusive behavior towards his sister; they simply ignored Giselle's quiet complaints of her brother and treated Rurik to sweets and other prided delicacies.
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ.
Psychotic ≛
↪ 6//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
At times, it's possible for Giselle to appear as mentally deranged. With the addition of her truculence, people who lie at her hands are definitely in deep sh-t. Whether or not she has a valid reason for torturing her unfortunate victims is not clear. All it matters is that they appear dead at her hands.
It has not been possible, however, for many to anticipate when exactly she will strike. And thus this puts them in grave danger. A little slip of their headed destination to someone who he or she trusts can evolve into the location where his or her death will take place. Needless to say, trust is a crucial thing when involving in a relationship with her, one kinship where she can appear happy and dandy with you at times, pretending everything is jolly well good, only to then stab you in the back when you least expect it.
A good word of advice, if you wish to live: Don't test her patience and be wary at all times.
Sententious ≛
↪ 9//10
▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
However negative most of her attributes might be, Giselle has the surprising gift of eloquence, striking importance in almost everything she says. In almost any conversation, the receptor of Giselle's words can react dumbfounded and shock thus could allow a falter or a stutter in his/her words. However, Giselle takes her gift to use in the most advantageous of situations, one primarily involving taking people down a peg. At times, though, Giselle can sweeten up and express a genuine concern for one's suffering. One such conversation has been opinionated by the receptor of being in such a colloquy with Giselle.
"Giselle certainly...has a way with words. I myself can be found stammering or such when having a simple conversation with her. She has an incredible patience when it comes to listening and thus so, since it seems that she only does the listening part in a conversation, it can be surprising and spasmodic in expectations when hearing her speak. I so couldn't have gotten through my last break-up without her." // Remained Anonymous; Comforted Teen.
║▀▀▀✫▀▀▀ ǫᴜɪɴᴛᴇssᴇɴᴄᴇ sᴜᴍ-ᴜᴘ ▀▀▀✫▀▀▀║
In general, though, Giselle may seem like an arrogant priss who is solely obsessed with herself but really, once you get to know her, she'll slowly reveal herself to be that girl who glimmers through the simplest of things, that girl who has been broken and can only be resurrected through a committed and trustworthy relationship. But the antecedental shards that make up her are slowly being sealed by the infamous facade she well practices. Someone needs to save her from falling into the abyss of faux before she wholly becomes a person she truly isn't.
ރ ██ ⊱ Ｔｈｅ Ａｎｔｅｃｅｄｅｎｔａｌ Ｉｎｆｒａｓｔｒｕｃｔｕｒｅ
▀▀ Aᴘʀɪʟ 5ᴛʜ: 10:59 PM. ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀
The night never felt as cold as it was at the moment. Wispy branches swayed against the mordant breeze, rustling in accordance to the slow yet continuous descent of the familiar feathery ice crystals that were commonly associated with winter. Condensation had long begun to gather upon the windows of the quaint bungalow, blurring the dim lights that illuminated the interiors of the small house. Twas strange for it to snow at this moment. But the civilians revealed no special interest to divulge their curiosity of the unexpected precipitation. On this early morning, the houses that lined up the street were submissive, as usual, to the darkness that befell with the night, the residents of them tucked safely in bed, each comforted with the warmth that came with being bundled up in blankets. All except one, that is.
The house number 783 on Aprevska Lane was known very well for the current couple residing; the Pascales. The masculine, Aleksander, was notably known for sharing the blood of the greatest Russian poet, Pushkin, and the feminine, Ariana, her unique ocular pigmentation. Needless to say, the happily-married, young couple were frequently admired and envied by many and none had the doubts that if they wished to conceive, their offspring will nonetheless inherit its parent's allure.
This night was particularly auspicious for the debonair family of two. After many willing tries, the couple managed to procure success in conception. Thrilled at first at the prospect of starting a family, the couple set about themselves to wait patiently whilst trying to stifle the irritation with waiting during the gestational period of their fetus.
But all that waiting was done. The couple were finally going to be blessed with a lovely child.
With such optimism infused in both the feminine's and masculine's minds, the birth went well. Labor did not require immense strength and agony; at a young age, Anastasia proved to be incapable of hurting someone before she adopted to a more sadistic nature in her later years. All that was needed was a couple of pushes and a few grunts before the baby Ariana and Aleksander had waited so long for was delivered.
"She is here."
A small frown broke over Ariana's slightly exhausted countenance. She pushed back her matted hair, crossing her arms across her chest. "She? I have given birth to a girl?" Her voice was incredulous, bordering on the edge of tears. All those times she and Aleksander had discussed of their baby, they had used the pronoun him to refer to it. Oh, how they had plans for him; enrolling him in chess, basketball, ice hockey. And now they came crashing down, like glass shattering upon the rough cement of a beton sidewalk.
Sensing the hurt that had started to cross upon Ariana, the midwife, Katarina, quickly leaped to the defense of the newborn child. "A female child is good as well, Madame," she hesitantly lumbered over her words. The last thing she wanted was for this child to be abandoned like the many girls whom were petulantly discarded by their mothers. "I mean, bozhe moy! She can be an Olympic gymnast, a ballet dancer...er...the possibilities are endless, no?"
Upon hearing nothing from his wife, Aleksander suddenly knocked upon the door frantically. "Is everything alright?"
"Alright? Oh, yes. Everything's jolly well fine," Ariana replied bitterly. Aleksander tentatively walked in, worry adding a slight crinkle just above his eyebrows.
"It is a girl," the midwife whispered. The silence that filled the room was impeccable. No word escaped from Aleksander's lips, though he strained to say something. The shock of being the father of a girl was...surprising.
"Oh, well, what's the use of mulling over something like this," Ariana snapped. "I promised Mamochka I would let her see the child, so there's no hope in throwing it out to the streets." She sighed theatrically, as if this was too much to ask of her, and turned reluctantly to Katarina, who stood loyally, holding the bundle that encased the strangely silent infant. "Let me see it." Her tone was still bitter.
The midwife hesitated before placing the wrapped infant in the waiting arms of the mother. The child had certainly inherited the eyes of its mother and the smile of her father. A peal of musical giggles erupted from its lips at upon finally acknowledged by Ariana. The young woman traced a gentle finger along the baby's cheek before smirking. "Look, Aleksander. It's bald like Khrushchev."
The baby now stared confusedly at its mother, not knowing that it had committed crime of denying its mother to be in the form of the opposite gender she so longed for.
Aleksander was more merciful than his wife, smiling slightly. "Ah, but she will have beautiful hair like her mother." Ariana smiled at the internal compliment but did not say any more, looking at the midwife. "Thank you for your assistance in carrying out my daughter's birth. You may leave now, Katarina."
The midwife stood there, biting her lip. "But you need to name her."
"What?" Ariana ran a hand through her hair.
"Your baby," she gestured to the bundle she was holding. "You forgot to name her."
"Oh," the two lovers stared at each other. They had long decided the baby's name, confident that it would be a male. Having a daughter was only surprising to them. "Um..."
"How about Giselle?" Katarina bit her tongue, shutting her mouth. It was certainly not her place to address what name an infant should have, but these new parents held such sexist views that she could not help herself.
"I like it," the wife nodded. Her husband quickly followed suit. "Giselle, it shall be."
After a few more parting remarks of thanks and utter gratitude, Katarina slowly descended down the stairs and out the door, adjusting her scarf and buttoning up her parka. How remarkable it was to witness such indifference in the parents' demeanors once they had found out they had a daughter. Now, such thing was common for Russian couples who wished to have a male so that he would carry on to support his family. But to have the utter grace for it to be a mere afterthought to appellate the child? That was unjustly harsh.
For a moment, Katarina stood there, thinking of marching back in and offering to take their daughter under her wing and lavish her with such care. The Pascales would all the more push the infant towards her and laugh in glee. Even more so, they would even encourage her to leave the baby to the Vessel Traders.
But her thoughts quickly dwindled to the fact that it was not proper to do so. Even if her heart bled for the poor baby.
Katarina sighed before shaking her head and slowly walking away from 783 Aprevska Lane to her own humble abode. Numerous times did she look back at the house. And each time she closed her eyes and sighed. Whispering, "Mne tak zhal' , Giselle."
"I'm so sorry, Giselle."
▀▀ Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 11ᴛʜ: 12:34 PM. ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀
Ever since Giselle's unfortunate birth had graced the Pascale family, her parents took it upon as a chore to neglect her. By the time, at least thirteen years had passed and in the duration, the couple managed to conceive, this time successfully securing the masculine status for the second child. This was certainly enough for the Pascales to fully continue their plan of ignoring Giselle and instead devote their fullest attention to tending to the needs of their son, who was christened proudly after the prince of all Russian folklore; Rurik.
Meanwhile, Giselle fared the harsh agony that followed her family's determination to shun her out of their shame. Rurik quickly learned his place to be the dominant child of the household, inflicting slaps and pulling at Giselle's hair. Their parents did nothing to stop Rurik's abusive behavior towards his sister; they simply ignored Giselle's quiet complaints of her brother and treated Rurik to sweets and other prided delicacies.
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ.
ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ.
Now almost at the age of being a legal adolescent, Giselle knew to be wise by keeping to herself. She did her homework quietly, stifled any reactions that rose towards being the victim of her little brother's antics, and simply remained... invisible. She didn't make any sign of protest when she was unjustly locked out of the house in the bitter cold, nor did she ask for seconds during meals - and even in those eating intervals was she spared with a small quantity to fit her plate; she was not forced to eat more like most of the other households of this world, but rather punished if Giselle was to nibble at one more morsel than she was allowed. Thirteen years was quite a long time and proved to be enough for Giselle to realize that her family wasn't simply going to accept her right back in. They openly despised her and she was perfectly fine with it. She knew not everybody in this world would readily accept her for who she was. But it still hurt that her family were part of 'not everybody'.
Taking heed from her trusted midwife, Giselle's mother surprisingly enrolled her daughter in gymnastics and ballet classes. "No need to have a worthless hermit wander about our house," she had muttered low under her breath, thinking Giselle couldn't hear. But it all didn't matter. It was actually worth it, all the snide comments she was spared when her mother dropped her off at her respective extracurriculars. Bouncing off in routine to all the assigned somersaults and handsprings her coach would bark proved to be an area where Giselle could finally find solace in. Tumbling in unison with all the other girls... that was simply almost the only time where she could feel like she fitted in.
School proved to be far worse, though. Always either harshly demeaned by her parents or simply ignored, Giselle decided to encourage herself through compliments. It all started with an innocent slip of recognizing her ability in an area, such as woodshop; the elective she partook in school. The slips soon became frequent and intentional and before she knew it, she became an arrogant monster. Her pride had become infused by the common air of flattery she surrounded herself in and like a sponge that had absorbed far too much liquid than it was capable of doing, her arrogance tainted almost everything she did or said.
The Pascales didn't even notice the severe alter in Giselle's usually taciturn idiosyncrasies. They still held the absurd conviction that their daughter was of spoiled bearings and had always assumed that Giselle would grow up to be arrogant and supercilious, sneering at her inferiors instead of aiding them. And to witness their daughter finally 'divulge' of her true being, they wasted no time in planning to get rid of her.
The Vessel Traders were considered as the first option; simply lure them in and offer their daughter in haste, and finally be rid of the wretched Giselle. But upon close thinking, they decided it would be too much a risk. Giselle could easily come back and they would be plagued once more by their daughter. Plus, it would be very hard for them to conceal the excitement and glee they would feel at their daughter's good riddance and their neighbors knew them to be kind; what would happen to their precious reputation once the neighboring civilians saw of the smiles that would surely be plastered on their lips? Surely, they would be remarked as morbid, no?
Attempted murder was the second choice. But it was soon quickly ruled out after some consideration put in that they would be at the top of the list's most likely to have killed Giselle. Ariana and Aleksander could forget about framing another person; they lacked the morbid guts to do so.
That left abandoning Giselle. Out of all the picks that presented itself, this seemed to be the most promising - and the least morbid. Ariana suggested that the plan could be initiated at one of Giselle's extracurriculars; ballet or gymnastics. It could seem at first like they were a few minutes late for picking up Giselle, so they'd have a couple of minutes ahead on her. In the time, they could prepare to leave for Pyropys.
So it was decided. Ariana offered a rare sweet smile at her daughter, saying goodbye and kissing her cheek. Giselle simply drew away in shock, staring at her mother's retreating vehicle before shrugging herself out of it. And so while Giselle immersed herself in battement lents and grand jetés, the Pascales hurriedly packed their items and drove a stake in the front yard, addressing their estate to be for sale. The Pascale's cars screeched in disdain at leaving their only known abode, but the brakes were stomped on with such fervor that the vehicles complied in their wishes, driving off in the distance to their new home; Pyropys.
And while all this had taken place, Giselle simply sat on the cool hardwood floor of her ballet academy, knees drawn to her chest as she kept an eye out the window, waiting for someone to pick her up. A few minutes turned into an hour. Four hours soon passed. Now sitting alone on the pavement, head turning, hoping to catch the familiar flash of headlights that signaled a car and instead only meeting darkness, Giselle simply had to accept it: no one was going to pick her up.
At some point, silent tears started to trail down her cheeks as she defiantly stifled the sobs that struggled to escape from her lips. Of all the things they could have done... Could her family be so cruel to abandon their own child? It was obvious they hated her, but did they despise her that much to do this?
Giselle angrily pulled at the bobby pins that secured her dark brown locks in a tight bun, letting loose her tresses and allowing it for it to be a curtain for her tearstained palette. "Bastards," she muttered. The whole lot of them were bastards. Let them run away if they wanted. Karma was a bitch and she sure was going to let them know that. She was about to mutter a few more choice words when she heard someone call her name in a hesitant manner.
"... Giselle... is that you?"
That voice, so soothing and sweet... and familiar.
An older woman came into view, a maroon babushka wrapped tautly around her wrinkled countenance.
"Oh... bozhe moy, it is you..."
The petite woman draped her shaking arms around Giselle's taller, more slender figure.
"... Excuse me?"
The elderly lady wiped a tear that was lingering on Giselle's cheek away before biting her lip. Finally, she met the girl's eyes, searching intensely for something. "I helped deliver you."
▀▀ Fᴇʙʀᴜᴀʀʏ 14ᴛʜ, 9:43 PM. ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀
The strong yet soothing aroma of tea wafted among the cozy and warm atmosphere as Katarina generously poured the sweet, tangy liquid into two china teacups, placing on the table a plate of homemade biscuits. Giselle found herself glancing numerous times at the crinkled mien of the midwife, biting her lip to keep from allowing her teeth to chatter. The last thing she wanted was this woman's sympathy; a woman who she only recalled in brief flashes of recognition.
Katarina hesitated before draping a worn afghan around Giselle's shoulders. "I don't want you to catch a cold," she explained as she caught Giselle's blank expression. Giselle just continued to stare before looking down at her tea, wrapping tentative fingers around the circumference of the cup. "Mne ta-"
"Will you stop saying that? For goddamn's sake! You've been saying that the whole way!" Giselle sighed loudly, pressing a hand to her pounding temple as she closed her eyes in exhaustion. Momentary silence filled the air
Now almost at the age of being a legal adolescent, Giselle knew to be wise by keeping to herself. She did her homework quietly, stifled any reactions that rose towards being the victim of her little brother's antics, and simply remained... invisible. She didn't make any sign of protest when she was unjustly locked out of the house in the bitter cold, nor did she ask for seconds during meals - and even in those eating intervals was she spared with a small quantity to fit her plate; she was not forced to eat more like most of the other households of this world, but rather punished if Giselle was to nibble at one more morsel than she was allowed. Thirteen years was quite a long time and proved to be enough for Giselle to realize that her family wasn't simply going to accept her right back in. They openly despised her and she was perfectly fine with it. She knew not everybody in this world would readily accept her for who she was. But it still hurt that her family were part of 'not everybody'.
Taking heed from her trusted midwife, Giselle's mother surprisingly enrolled her daughter in gymnastics and ballet classes. "No need to have a worthless hermit wander about our house," she had muttered low under her breath, thinking Giselle couldn't hear. But it all didn't matter. It was actually worth it, all the snide comments she was spared when her mother dropped her off at her respective extracurriculars. Bouncing off in routine to all the assigned somersaults and handsprings her coach would bark proved to be an area where Giselle could finally find solace in. Tumbling in unison with all the other girls... that was simply almost the only time where she could feel like she fitted in.
School proved to be far worse, though. Always either harshly demeaned by her parents or simply ignored, Giselle decided to encourage herself through compliments. It all started with an innocent slip of recognizing her ability in an area, such as woodshop; the elective she partook in school. The slips soon became frequent and intentional and before she knew it, she became an arrogant monster. Her pride had become infused by the common air of flattery she surrounded herself in and like a sponge that had absorbed far too much liquid than it was capable of doing, her arrogance tainted almost everything she did or said.
The Pascales didn't even notice the severe alter in Giselle's usually taciturn idiosyncrasies. They still held the absurd conviction that their daughter was of spoiled bearings and had always assumed that Giselle would grow up to be arrogant and supercilious, sneering at her inferiors instead of aiding them. And to witness their daughter finally 'divulge' of her true being, they wasted no time in planning to get rid of her.
The Vessel Traders were considered as the first option; simply lure them in and offer their daughter in haste, and finally be rid of the wretched Giselle. But upon close thinking, they decided it would be too much a risk. Giselle could easily come back and they would be plagued once more by their daughter. Plus, it would be very hard for them to conceal the excitement and glee they would feel at their daughter's good riddance and their neighbors knew them to be kind; what would happen to their precious reputation once the neighboring civilians saw of the smiles that would surely be plastered on their lips? Surely, they would be remarked as morbid, no?
Attempted murder was the second choice. But it was soon quickly ruled out after some consideration put in that they would be at the top of the list's most likely to have killed Giselle. Ariana and Aleksander could forget about framing another person; they lacked the morbid guts to do so.
That left abandoning Giselle. Out of all the picks that presented itself, this seemed to be the most promising - and the least morbid. Ariana suggested that the plan could be initiated at one of Giselle's extracurriculars; ballet or gymnastics. It could seem at first like they were a few minutes late for picking up Giselle, so they'd have a couple of minutes ahead on her. In the time, they could prepare to leave for Pyropys.
So it was decided. Ariana offered a rare sweet smile at her daughter, saying goodbye and kissing her cheek. Giselle simply drew away in shock, staring at her mother's retreating vehicle before shrugging herself out of it. And so while Giselle immersed herself in battement lents and grand jetés, the Pascales hurriedly packed their items and drove a stake in the front yard, addressing their estate to be for sale. The Pascale's cars screeched in disdain at leaving their only known abode, but the brakes were stomped on with such fervor that the vehicles complied in their wishes, driving off in the distance to their new home; Pyropys.
And while all this had taken place, Giselle simply sat on the cool hardwood floor of her ballet academy, knees drawn to her chest as she kept an eye out the window, waiting for someone to pick her up. A few minutes turned into an hour. Four hours soon passed. Now sitting alone on the pavement, head turning, hoping to catch the familiar flash of headlights that signaled a car and instead only meeting darkness, Giselle simply had to accept it: no one was going to pick her up.
At some point, silent tears started to trail down her cheeks as she defiantly stifled the sobs that struggled to escape from her lips. Of all the things they could have done... Could her family be so cruel to abandon their own child? It was obvious they hated her, but did they despise her that much to do this?
Giselle angrily pulled at the bobby pins that secured her dark brown locks in a tight bun, letting loose her tresses and allowing it for it to be a curtain for her tearstained palette. "Bastards," she muttered. The whole lot of them were bastards. Let them run away if they wanted. Karma was a bitch and she sure was going to let them know that. She was about to mutter a few more choice words when she heard someone call her name in a hesitant manner.
"... Giselle... is that you?"
That voice, so soothing and sweet... and familiar.
An older woman came into view, a maroon babushka wrapped tautly around her wrinkled countenance.
"Oh... bozhe moy, it is you..."
The petite woman draped her shaking arms around Giselle's taller, more slender figure.
"... Excuse me?"
The elderly lady wiped a tear that was lingering on Giselle's cheek away before biting her lip. Finally, she met the girl's eyes, searching intensely for something. "I helped deliver you."
▀▀ Fᴇʙʀᴜᴀʀʏ 14ᴛʜ, 9:43 PM. ▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀
The strong yet soothing aroma of tea wafted among the cozy and warm atmosphere as Katarina generously poured the sweet, tangy liquid into two china teacups, placing on the table a plate of homemade biscuits. Giselle found herself glancing numerous times at the crinkled mien of the midwife, biting her lip to keep from allowing her teeth to chatter. The last thing she wanted was this woman's sympathy; a woman who she only recalled in brief flashes of recognition.
Katarina hesitated before draping a worn afghan around Giselle's shoulders. "I don't want you to catch a cold," she explained as she caught Giselle's blank expression. Giselle just continued to stare before looking down at her tea, wrapping tentative fingers around the circumference of the cup. "Mne ta-"
"Will you stop saying that? For goddamn's sake! You've been saying that the whole way!" Giselle sighed loudly, pressing a hand to her pounding temple as she closed her eyes in exhaustion. Momentary silence filled the air
<.b>{Full Name}<./b>
<.i>{Nicknames}<./i>
<.b>{Age}<./b>
<.b>{Date/Time of Birth}<./b>
<.b>{Location of Birth}<./b>
<.b>{Gender}<./b>
<.b>{Sexuality}<./b>
<.b>{Role in Society}<./b> Eg; Vessel Trader, Outcast, Civilian, etc.
<.b>{Corporeal Apparition}<./b>
<.i>{Physical Details}<./i>
<.b>{Personality}<./b> -At least two paragraphs, five sentences each at the minimum.
<.b>{History}<./b> -At least two paragraphs, five sentences each at the minimum.
<.i>{Family}<./i>
<.b>{Shape/Form of Soul Vessel}<./b>
<.b>{Other}<./b>