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damn it...a crying girl gif...now that makes me feel guilty...not XDKidding
PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA XD That's Joyce's face claim XD Omigod, I'm dying.
I knowwww And Augustus would go all Charlie on me
http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m07...
and while doing so, trip and fall into the mud myself
Pahahaha, okay, that would be pretty hilarious XD Lol, I hardly understand, but it would be funny, if that makes sense at all.
➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
‟ ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛ ᴍᴇ „‹ ＮＡＴＨＡＮＩＥＬＬＥ ＤＥＭＡＲＣＨＥ ›☱ Variant of NATHANAEL. It has been regularly used in the English-speaking world since the Protestant Reformation. This has been the most popular spelling, even though the spelling Nathanael is found in most versions of the New Testament. The American writer Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), author of 'The Scarlet Letter', was a famous bearer of this name.
☴ Demarche has come to refer either to a line of action; move; countermove; maneuver, esp. in diplomatic relations, or formal diplomatic representation of the official position, views, or wishes on a given subject from one government to another government or intergovernmental organization.‹ sʜɪғᴛᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅ | ♞ | ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ | ♞ | 23 ›
Pʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ|| Kaydian
Dᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ|| January Third
Zᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ sɪɢɴ|| ♑ Capricon(view spoiler)
Sᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ|| Pansexual :: sexual attraction, sexual desire, romantic love, or emotional attraction toward people of all gender identities and biological sexes.
Rᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs|| Open to requestsPᴏᴡᴇʀs⇥Metal Manipulation
In which the bearer is able to manipulate the metals within and outside [close range] of the body to whatever shape or density they wish.
⇥Prehensile hair
The user has complete control over the hair of oneself and others, allowing them to freely alter, grow out, chance texture, color, etc., shape and manipulate it as if it was appendage, weave the hair into different shapes, etc. Due to hair lacking nerves or being directly affected by changes in the nervous system, attacks and damage are virtually harmless to the user.
⇥Berserk
In which the bearer taps into a base feral instinct, resulting in a crippling blood lust. It is not used lightly, and incredibly difficult to contain when not mastered.
( ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ :: sʜᴀɴɪɴᴀ sʜᴀɪᴋ )▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▪ Nathanielle can confidently say that she doesn't like her appearance half as much as people would like to believe. She isn't fixated on her looks, either. However, most view the physical portion of things to be more appealing than most.
▪ Reaching a point of five feet and five inches, she's about average height or so. Her weight is just about as equal to average at a nice hundred and thirty pounds. She's rather slender, in all respects. While she isn't a buxom young lady, she makes for that with impeccable legs and a face of gold. Narrow shoulders lead up into a somewhat short neck that ends in an ovoid visage.
▪ Nathanielle has a somewhat dark skin pigmentation. While she is still light skinned, it's quite clear that she is of a Middle-Eastern descent. Her features are smooth and round. Glossy black tendrils of hair slide down to just past her shoulders, framing her face in delicate curls. Her lips are a light shade of blush, though a little pale. Her oculars are a hazy brown hue towards the pupils, but spread out into a blurred and dull dirty green color.
▪ Her voice is low and soft, and you might have trouble hearing her speak. She isn't one to raise her voice either, so for her words to be heard with a distinctive accent, you have to lean in close. While this may not be the most desired situation for her, she's still working on changing it.☛ Stands at five feet and five inches
☛ Weighs roughly a hundred and thirty pounds
☛ Hair is glossy black
☛ Skin has a somewhat dark skin pigmentation
☛ Vocally is low and soft
☛ An added mark is a jagged scar from left eyebrow to right cheek
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▪ The entirety of her style is a reflection of both her position and militant views. Most of her clothing is made from materials that are light-weight, and are constructed in a manner that allows for freed movement. She prefers pants and boots, decked with uniform jackets and tops, as well as the occasional weapon.✦ █ Sᴛᴏɪᴄ | ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅɪᴄ | ɢʀᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟʟʏ ᴀɢɢʀᴇssɪᴠᴇ | ᴏᴠᴇʀ-ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ | ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏɴsᴛɪᴘᴀᴛᴇᴅ
‟ ɪ'ᴍ sᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ „Lacking in the emotional department has always been an easy point for Nathanielle. She's very good at hiding them, usually keeping it all bottled up or having none of them at all. Some might remark that she seems more like a robot than an actual living being, and she's completely fine with that comparison. Although, she might be slightly confused, since her sense of pretty much everything might seem a little different to everyone around her.
Nathanielle likes to do things certain way. She has a strict routine to how she works through out the day, but also has a particular way of dealing with any issues that may arise. It's borderline strategic in a very rigid sort of way, with very little flexibility for changes. One could say that this is an asset to her position, allowing her to get through problems in a second, with little to no effort.
Putting it simply, there's a grace to her manner of aggression. She isn't outright physical with her aggression, but she isn't limited exclusively to her words, either. There's a physicality to her wording that just...intimidates. Actually, gracefully aggressive is just the pretty term some soldiers use to describe how completely intimidating she is to them.
Some of the soldiers have a running joke of calling her "mother" when she's not actually around. In terms of familial relations, she's running low on the department of younger siblings. She comes to be extremely loyal, and with it over-protective. She takes extreme measures to keep people she believes need to be protected safe, and that can extend to people within the guard as well as out of it.
Emotional displays are not Nathanielle's forte. She, in fact, has the worst case of emotional backup that anyone could have. Her way of showing someone that she cares is usually by watching them for several days before giving a handcrafted weapon that can maim and/or kill, even if the person has no clue how to use it. Those moments when feelings are supposed to be shared are passed off by a confused expression, or just her having some excuse to leave. Really, emotions are hard for her to work with.‟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜᴀs ᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀs ʜɪs ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ „
What she remembers, or bares to remember, of the past life she had was that she died.
She remembers the story of how she was born. Her skin was pale, her lips were blue, and her mother was still screaming. She was screaming about how this couldn't be happening, not to her. That they'd been careful, that they'd planned. That this shouldn't have happened."Don't take my baby!"
"We're sorry, but there's nothing we can do."
While the doctors were right, they were also wrong. Incredibly so.
The tiny infant in their arms was still as death, a faded light of expectations lost. But, she blinked. Through all impossibility, she blinked. It took her thirty minutes of death to find life. The doctors in charge had stated that she was dead before the labor had finished, had suspected that she'd be strangled by the tangled umbilical chord. Her mother had cried.
But she was alive.
The impossibility of the situation was what made her remember, or rather, forced her to remember. She had to be sure that she was as fortune as she thought, and that single memory held it all in place. Her parents died shortly after her birth, in a fire in the house. She hadn't been there to witness much of it, sound asleep in the car-seat where they left her. She was three days old then, and she felt it was too long ago to really remember this thing.
So, she forgot.‟ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇᴇɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ɪ ᴀᴍ „
There was a time in her life that she realized she would be alone. She felt alone in the presence of her adopted family, surrounded by insincere love and empty gestures. She was alone among peers, not just because she excelled. No, she had a certain longing that set her apart, and left her with a black dog to deal with.
She ran away when she was ten, yet still a child. She figured the best she could do was find someone who could teach her at the very least to protect herself. What she encountered was someone who could do so much more: make her not feel alone.
⇣ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ⇣
⇡ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ⇡➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
He was an unusual man, this person that took her in. Aging, and she had the faint feeling it be like something out of a movie, but she'd easily dismissed it. He taught her everything she knew, but never once actually told her his real name. She studied under him for ten years, and was forced to leave by a particularly tragic accident."I need you to kill me."
"What? No, I can't!"
She wasn't ready for his request. She was too close to the target, as he would sometimes say in his training. He clenched his jaw, cupped her face in his hands, and nodded. He said nothing when he stepped back and grabbed the sword, handing it to her hilt first. Nathanielle gaped at him, silence holding her still.
Every thing moved slowly. She let the sword dropped, he started screaming at her, and the fight commenced. She was on the ground shortly after, the world dancing around her. Sounds blurred and fuzzed as she got to her feet, and she found herself down again. Something in her snapped, that angry portion of her that she never knew she had. Everything was red, and then darkness fell.
When she came to, he was dead. But not just dead, gone, mutilated, taken by her own hands. Covered in blood, she stumbled away. She believes that was the day that she was forgot what certain emotions were. She was filled with the lessons of her teacher, the lessons of holding nothing but despair. Hope was a luxury she couldn't afford.
Taking off came after she buried him, and long after she'd cleaned up the mess. She recalls the Scottish Play, Macbeth, and the scene with Lady Macbeth in a feverish state of wanting to wipe her hands clean of blood. She wished she could do that. She wished she could be free of all the suffering she'd caused.
She decided to go into the business of protecting people, and enlisted to be part of the royal guard.‟ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴡ, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ „
Nathanielle is still stuck in a trap of endless despair, but all is likely to change. Her new position as head royal guard is quite pretty, in her opinion.✖ ▌▸
✔ ▌▸
█ ) R ᴇ ʟ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ s ʜ ɪ ᴘ s
✘ ▌ Fᴀᴛʜᴇʀ - 〈 Bɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Deceased ║ ᴀɢᴇ: 25 ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤
↪ Kɪʟʟɪᴀɴ Dᴇᴍᴀʀᴄʜᴇ
✘ ▌ Mᴏᴛʜᴇʀ - 〈 Bɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Deceased ║ ᴀɢᴇ: 24 ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤
↪ Aᴀʀᴏɴɴᴀ Dᴇᴍᴀʀᴄʜᴇ
✘ ▌ Fᴀᴛʜᴇʀ - 〈 Aᴅᴏᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Deceased ║ ᴀɢᴇ: 75 ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
↪ Uɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ
✘ ▌ Lᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ - 〈 ♥ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Alive ║ ᴀɢᴇ: ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
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