➤Ghost Creation

[Ms_Sara_Darling, Those who don't grasp the thorns shall never possess the rose.]

((You are allowed to use gifs and other borders. You can also use your own template if you want or add other information if you want but you HAVE to use all the information I have provided. Make sure to bold!))

║✣║Full Name║✣║
{Nickname}

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║✣║Age║✣║

║✣║Gender║✣║

║✣║Date of Birth║✣║

║✣║Sexuality║✣║

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║✣║Type║✣║ ((Say what type of ghost you are and if you are good or evil.))

║✣║Species║✣║ ((Name your species and give a brief description. If you want you can use the one from the species guide.))

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║✣║Appearance║✣║ (No anime pictures. Also write at least a five sentenced description even if you have a picture. In the description state your eye color, hair color, height, weight, and if your character has any markings on their body.)

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║✣║Personality║✣║ ((A paragraph long description, this does not mean one to two word sentences.))

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║✣║History║✣║ ((Ten sentences or two decent looking paragraphs.))

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║✣║Skills║✣║ ((What is your person good at? Meaning hobbies or sports. Anything recreational. Piano, singing, writing, etc.))

║✣║Strengths║✣║

║✣║Weaknesses║✣║

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║✣║Family║✣║

║✣║Friends║✣║

║✣║Enemies║✣║

║✣║Relationship/Crush║✣║

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║✣║Inventory║✣║ ((What does your person have with them? This is required for all especially if your person doesn't live anywhere.))

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║✣║Other║✣║ ((A paragraph is required))

[Jenna ⭐]

( W ɪ ʟ ʟ ɪ ᴀ ᴍ J ᴀ ʏ H ᴀ ᴡ ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ʀ ɴ ᴇ )

Tɪᴍᴇ's ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ (ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ sʟᴏᴡ ᴅᴏᴡɴ). I'ᴍ ʜᴏᴘᴇʟᴇss (ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴘɪɴɢ).

( Tᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴏʟᴅ | ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ғɪғᴛʜ | ᴍᴀʟᴇ | sᴛʀᴀɪɢʜᴛ | sɪɴɢʟᴇ | ʙᴀɴsʜᴇᴇ )
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"ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ sᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ."

▸ I ɴ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴇ ɴ ᴅ , ɪ ' ᴍ ɢ ᴏ ɴ ɴ ᴀ ʙ ᴇ ᴡ ɪ ᴛ ʜ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ ◂

♚ ║ Death: it's a thing most people have difficulties accepting. When a loved one dies, it is hard on most everyone around them. Families can be torn apart, love can shatter, and everything someone thought they knew about another person can be gone in the blink of an eye. But there is something different at work within the life of this particular twenty year old. Death, for him, is not a thing he feels for other people. It is a thing he feels for himself. William is dead. He knows he is dead. He knows how he died. But he can't accept it. Ever since the faithful night his short life came to an end, Will has found himself dreading the afterlife, finding it such a cheat out of the death he was meant to meet. All his friends have met it; all the ones he loved have been met with a different fate, and he cannot process why he is still here. There must be a reason, he keeps telling himself, but none has yet to show itself. He's a wandering ghost, searching this world with no hope of finding anything. No one can help him through this; no one can be truly be there for him. He feels lost, like the lonely soul he is. All he wants is rest and all he wants is to end this 'life', but he can't find a way. And it's killing him, even when he knows he has already died.

๖ۣۜI ғ ɪ ᴅ ɪ ᴇ , ᴡ ᴇ ᴡ ᴏ ᴜ ʟ ᴅ ʙ ᴇ ᴛ ᴏ ɢ ᴇ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ʀ

₍ ✜ ₎ Fᴀᴄᴇ Cʟᴀɪᴍ ➟ Jᴏᴇ Cᴏʟʟɪᴇʀ ₍ ✜ ₎

↪ Just like one would expect, Will isn't all there. This is very much true in both the mental and the physical sense. For the former, it is very obvious that he was once a human boy, living and breathing his life just like every person there ever is or was. However, things have changed recently. He still has that dark hair that is often much more messy than neat, and he still has those captivating green eyes that most can't help but find endearing. His height is still the same -- just over six foot -- and his weight is still average for his age and gender. The only really noticeable things are his chest and his... well, the way he appears to others. The second is one of the most definable ways to tell that Will is, in fact, no longer breathing. The ebony iridescence that hovers around him is an obvious sign of his banshee qualities, and it is something that most people have difficulties looking past, even Will himself. The second of his two oddities comes from the bullet wounds that encompass his torso. But that's something he won't let anyone see.

( Bʟᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀɪʀ | ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴇʏᴇs | sɪx ғᴏᴏᴛ ᴏɴᴇ | ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅ ғɪғᴛʏ sᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅs )
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❝ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ ʀ s ᴍ ɪ ʟ ᴇ s ᴡ ɪ ʟ ʟ ᴀ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʏ s ʜ ᴀ ᴜ ɴ ᴛ ᴍ ᴇ ❞ 

Humorous, caring, and outgoing: those were the traits that described William in the World Before. He was a simple boy, born and raised to have the best ideals in mind. He was told to strive for the best possible version of himself, and while he did have his flaws like every other person, he did well for himself. Despite his dyslexia and his short attention span, he tried to get the best grades he could, and where his smarts couldn't really match up, his athleticism made up for. He was skilled with all things football, ranging from throwing the ball, to kicking it over the field goals, to cheering on the rest of the team. In many ways, he was the normal teenage boy, just trying to get through the day.

But then things changed.

When it first happened -- when his soul first left his body and a new being was formed out of the old -- William didn't know where he was. Delirium had washed over his every thought and his mind took challenge in processing exactly what had happened in the short span when he had lost so much of his time. Things were revealed to him that he couldn't understand, couldn't take in without feeling the effects of sorrow and depression take hold of him. His outgoing thoughts attempted to remain intact, but there was an unmistakable essence of insanity tugging on his heart strings. He could feel it pulling him under the waters and threatening to rid him of his every thought. He didn't know what was happening as he searched for answers, but he soon found them in the new world he'd awoken to. And it was apparent that death would not be kind to the newly reborn apparition of a boy.

Nowadays, as he's learned what has happened to him and has come to the conclusion that he needs to find himself a way out of this godforsaken world, William is a little... off. Of course, this is what anyone would expect of a banshee, able to tell when death is coming and chaos will reign supreme, but it is the way in which the disease takes hold of his mind that really sets him apart. He is not normal. He does not feel the drive to make others miserable, to make them feel the death that he has. All the deceased boy wants is to get out of this world and back to those that mean something to him. He wants his life back and the people that were there with him. In this half-state of death and life, he knows that it is not possible for that to happen, so his goal is to rid himself once and for all. He just can't figure out how to make that happen, and it's driving him to his breaking point. Sooner or later, he's going to snap. Sooner or later, he'll give into that insanity that's clawing up and down his spine. And sooner or later, this world will fade away and it'll be just him and death, and whatever other unfortunate soul decides to cross his path.

ɪ ' ᴍ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ɢ ʜ ᴏ s ᴛ ᴏ ғ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ 

'I can still see her standing there, summer tangled in her hair.'

'The first week of July. The first day of my life.'

It all started with a certain girl. Her name was Anna, a beautiful name for the girl that brought so much light to Will's life. She walked into his life with a bright smile, bringing one to his lips as well. With her light blonde hair and her bright blue eyes, she was every bit different from him, and yet somehow they ended up colliding in the sweetest of ways. She complimented him, made up for his flaws. She was smart, she was sweet, and she was everything he could ask for and more. She was his perfection.

Will didn't know exactly when he fell in love with her. Maybe it was after all the late nights they spent out in her backyard, joking with one another and talking about the future like they ever had a clue. Or maybe it was the fact that she tried to help him out with his disability and tell him that he was perfect even when he didn't really think that was the case. Or maybe it was a mix of both things and so much more that really made him end up caring deeply for her. Like Will has always said, he doesn't know when it happened, but it doesn't seem to matter much. It did, and that's all he ever asked for.

But like all good things, the time the two spent together came to an untimely end when the domination of them occurred. For the first year or so, everything seemed to be going fine. There was no death; there was no destruction. There was only a new found curiosity embellished within the young couples hearts at the thought that there might be different life past their own. Even now, Will remembers sitting on that living room floor with Anna, watching the television screen as new information on the supernatural was released. They had only been sixteen then, four years from Will's current age. That was the first year of the war, and it was the first year that he really understood what it meant to hold things close to him. The new age started with a bang. The roof of Will's house shook violently as his eyes switched from the screen to Anna's baby blues. There was anxiety riddled within her irises, and for a moment, Will caught a sense of fear. It quickly vanished, but it was there. He's sure of that. Everything around them trembled, the house threatening to come down on top of them. When they ventured to the outside, they saw their worst fears: a war raging between the humans and the supernatural. And their side was loosing.

Later, William would grow used to the sight of humans being tore down, but in that time, it was the worst thing he could have seen. His own kind was being attacked left and right, one right after the other. He can still remember the cries of his siblings and they went down under the teeth of the vampires, his mother and father's screams as their necks were ripped out by wolves. He can still remember Anna's hand slipping from his and his gaze flickering to the side. Her eyes were on his, that same fear he'd seen earlier deeply rooted in look she gave him. She was flailing against the hold a thing had on her, but it didn't matter for long. Teeth were bared before they plunged into her neck. Her scream rang in Will's ears, cutting off all the sounds of chaos that surrounded him. It was feeding off her. It was killing her.

In the end, Will tried to help her. His feet flew forward and his fists were flying, but it was no match. He was just a human. The vampire had more on him than he could ever hope for. In the end, he was thrown to the side and Anna was exhausted of all her strength. As the vampire went on to find more victims, Will found himself making his way to Anna's side, holding her as the light went out in her eyes. And then, just like that, in his arms, she died.

Will didn't live too long thereafter. His eyes were set upon the girl in his arms, her face pale and lifeless in comparison to his. "Anna." His voice was breaking every five seconds, littered with disbelief. Anna, come on. Come on." He hardly heard the footsteps creeping up behind him. He hardly understood that a gun was being raised from a distance, aimed right for his heart. But even he could hear the gunshot and even he could feel the pain that coursed through his veins the moment the gun went off. Blood seeped from his parted lips as he slowly slumped over, two young lover's lives ended right then and there. Or so it would be thought.

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© ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ɪs ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʏ ᴊᴇɴɴᴀʟʏɴ - ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴜsᴇ (view spoiler)[ In the event that one would like to use it, please ask for permission before adopting it to your needs. Please and thank you! Inspiration thanks to Paro, Sea, Baa, Tonia, and many many more ;)
(hide spoiler)]

[Jenna ⭐]

( ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴛ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ'ᴅ ʙᴇ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇᴅ )
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๖ۣۜTʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴅᴇ's ᴀ sᴄᴀʀʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇsᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ.

When Will woke, it took only a second to realize that what he had thought to be a bad dream was his new reality. The fact that Anna's bloody form was still in his arms was just enough to do it. The boy scrambled up from the ground, chest heaving with breaths he didn't know where unneeded. His hands ran through his hair in that moment, taking in all the carnage that surrounded him. The sight started to sink in, as did the events from the night prior (or was it morning? Evening? He couldn't recall). Anna had died; he'd seen it happen. The memory sent his mind into a chaotic frenzy, though it was when he remembered what had happened to him that insanity started to creep its way in.

Dead. That's what he'd been. He had stopped breathing; his heart had quite working the way it was supposed to. The pain had been unbearable and the blackness had swelled over his vision, blotting out all the thoughts he'd had. He had died. Hand going to his chest, Will saw the dark red stains that dotted his torso before he felt the bullet wounds. His hand came back coated in his own gore, and for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick. Looking back on it, Will can't deny that he lost it a few times in that moment. He stayed right there for hours on end, locked in a seemingly never ending battle of taking glances at his lost loved ones and losing whatever he had left in him. When the retching had seceded and he could properly stand on his own two feet, Will felt numbed to the core with little to no hope pulsing through his body. There was little left of the boy from before all this; only a shell was left to claim what had been there previously -- If there was anything to claim at all.

It took years for Will to fully come to grips with what had happened to him on that fateful night. For the longest time, he thought of it as a dream that he would wake up from if he kept pushing forward. When he realized he didn't have a pulse, he kept convincing himself that it wasn't real. When he tried to keep the dark thoughts that crept into his mind at bay, he reminded himself that soon enough, he'd wake up and he wouldn't have to deal with that anymore. When he thought about Anna; when he thought about all the murders occurring that delighted him in the darkest of ways; when he thought about taking control and slaughtering souls with his own hands, he kept in mind that this was no more than a dream. Everything was a dream.

Until it wasn't.

Anna had had a sister: little Sophie. The two had been close, making it easy for Will to find his way into the relationship. Sophie having been just two years younger than her sister, it wasn't too hard for them to all become friends, even with Anna and Will's ongoing love-life. Sophie trusted Will, looked up to him, even. A brother, if you will. Perhaps that was why she clung to the thought of him so dearly when they were reunited. If only Will had felt the same way.

It was two years after Anna's death that Will and Sophie met once again. By that time, Will had been an adult and Sophie had just reached the peak of her teenage years -- a young sixteen. Had it been any other situation or time, it would have seemed a milestone for the two of them. All those things, however, were outshadowed by the hardships the two had faced. Will's had been complicated, a mix of life and death he didn't know how to control. It was hard to keep himself in check, the constant cravings for death and destruction that came with his new morals and values. Life, ever since his death, didn't seem quite as... sacred -- valuable. He wanted to get rid of his own to join the others. He wanted to toss his away, yet couldn't find the means to do so. Perhaps that was so why he was so willing to do what he did.

They'd found her camped out in her old home, her eyes squeezed shut as the unruly group of teenagers dragged her from the comforts of her bed. The house had been sealed off, doors blocked and windows sealed, but it couldn't stop the power of the supernatural. After all, Will had seen much more impressive feats. He'd stood in the shadows of the doorway, eyes downcast as the struggles of the girl filled the air. It wasn't hard for anyone, even the boy with a lack of creative judgement, to guess what was happening in the other room. But as the small cries and screeches played out, Will didn't think about those things. He didn't think about how easy it would have been to simply step in and ward them away. Instead, he succumbed to that lust for gore he had teeming up within him. It wasn't hard to; it wasn't difficult. It was a rather simple lock within himself to pick, and the moment it was open, the gates flooded and the shore was lost -- much like the boy that had been there before. Now there was only convoluted thoughts and a misguided ghost, jealous of everything that had ever died and envious of those that had decided to stay dead.

"Will?" His name was the first to come from Sophie's mouth the moment she saw his form by the open doorway. Her eyes were wide with recognition and a spark of happiness appeared in her gaze. It was lost on him. "Will, please." Her clothes were falling off her shoulders, lips bruised and body quaking. The signs caused pause in the boy's actions, though they only lasted for a short moment. He was past the point of caring. In fact, he was past the point of no return. Not even the assaulting males in the room were enough to intimidate the apparition that stood in their wake. They were only catalysts to his little equation, and with a single look in their direction, they were puppets in his little show.

"Will! Please help me. Please!" A lash of a knife.

A cry and a shaky voice: "Please... Will." Another lash. Another bash. And by the time Sophie's heart gave out, no one in the room was clean of the girl's gore.

Simple curiosity -- that was all it had been. It was a question of whether the demons within him were strong enough to win and in the end, they were. But for some reason, one that he didn't understand right then, Will was okay with that.

And he still is.

But that was just the beginning of the new William's tirade.

That was just the start of all that he would eventually do. Over the years, he's managed to slip in more of these small, tempted killings, just to see what will happen. His mind is going the longer he stays in this state of madness he can't seem to escape from.

Some would say that he's missing something, that maybe having someone there to reform him would help, but Will knows that isn't true. He knows that some girl will never be able to take Anna's place and he knows that nothing will help him get through this. In his mind, he is as good as dead -- he is as good as a monster that needs to be put down. But this is just one of his faucets. The other is buried deep down there, and if someone can find it, that one little shard of brilliance that might be hidden in this casket of a body, then fixing might be possible. But so might death, and if there's anything that this washed up soul really wants, it's to stay dead this time around.

✜ ᴀ ɴ ᴅ ɪ ' ʟ ʟ ɴ ᴇ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ᴏ ʜ ᴏ ᴍ ᴇ ᴀ ɢ ᴀ ɪ ɴ

〈 Sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs - ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ | ʀᴇsᴏᴜʀᴄᴇғᴜʟ | ᴄᴏɴɴɪᴠɪɴɢ | ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴛ | ᴀᴛʜʟᴇᴛɪᴄ 〉
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〈 Wᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs - ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ | ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ | ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs | ʜᴏᴍɪᴄɪᴅᴀʟ | sᴀᴅɪsᴛ 〉
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〈 Sᴋɪʟʟs - ʜᴏᴍɪᴄɪᴅᴇ | ᴀᴛʜʟᴇᴛɪᴄs | ᴘʟᴀʏs ᴍᴏsᴛ sᴘᴏʀᴛs | ᴘᴇʀsᴜᴀsɪᴏɴ | ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ 〉
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© ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ɪs ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʏ ᴊᴇɴɴᴀʟʏɴ - ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴜsᴇ (view spoiler)[ In the event that one would like to use it, please ask for permission before adopting it to your needs. Please and thank you! Inspiration thanks to Paro, Sea, Baa, Tonia, and many many more ;)
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[Jenna ⭐]

❝ɪ sᴛᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ʀᴇғʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴢᴇ ᴍᴇ.❞

๖ۣۜI ' ᴍ ᴊ ᴜ s ᴛ ᴀ ɢ ʜ ᴏ s ᴛ ᴏ ғ ᴡ ʜ ᴏ ɪ ᴜ s ᴇ ᴅ ᴛ ᴏ ʙ ᴇ

There are two types of ghosts. There are banshee's and immortal spirits. Immortal spirits are ghosts that are tied to the earth by a single object. If this object is taken then the ghost goes with it. Immortal spirits can be seen and they look like actual humans except you can't touch them. Though there is a way for you to touch them. You have to give up something precious to you which could be a picture or a trinket depending on it's importance to you is how much time you are allowed to touch them. Banshee's are evil spirits who like to cause chaos and death. Though it is very rare come banshees actually care for others and warn them when death or pain is coming. You can touch banshees, but only if they allow it. Banshees have the ability to make themselves visible and invisible. They also have a glowing light around them that . Most of the time the color is either blue, black, grey, or white. Nothing else.

For Will specifically, the type of ghost he embodies is that of a banshee. He is the darker of the two apparitions, and judging from the way he acts, it's no surprise. He died a death that would lead to his inevitable, death-long demise and now he can't seem to get his bearing in check. The aura that surrounds him is a dark blue color that is quite often mistaken as black. However, while this is quite normal for a banshee, Will has some differentials about himself. For whatever reason that he hasn't figured out yet, he is unable to make himself invisible like most of his species can. The ability is just foreign to him. He feels that this mostly keeps him from being completely what he, well, is at the moment, but he's strangely okay with that. Maybe it's that touch of denial that's still hanging around inside his head or maybe it's simply the fact that he kind of likes when people can see him refuse to help them. It would be nice to say that it's completely the former, but... well, as said earlier, Will isn't completely there. Killing is the only thing he has to look forward to nowadays.

(☇Fᴀᴛʜᴇʀ - Jackson Hawthorne ║ Dead ║ Lᴏᴠᴇ: 9/10 ║ (view spoiler)[

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(☇Mᴏᴛʜᴇʀ - Olivia K. Hawthorne ║ Dead ║ Lᴏᴠᴇ: 9/10 ║ (view spoiler)[

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(☇Sɪsᴛᴇʀ - Esme Kay Hawthorne ║ Dead ║ Lᴏᴠᴇ: 9/10 ║ (view spoiler)[

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(☇Ex-ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ - Anna Renee Rivers ║ Dead ║ Lᴏᴠᴇ: 10/10 ║ (view spoiler)[

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(☇Ex-Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ - Sophie Elsa Rivers ║ Dead ║ Lᴏᴠᴇ: 8/10 ║ (view spoiler)[

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» Iɴᴠᴇɴᴛᴏʀʏ ↬ Aʙsᴏʟᴜᴛᴇʟʏ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʜɪs ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ (ʜᴇ's ᴀ ɢʜᴏsᴛ, ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ?)

B ᴇ ғ ᴏ ʀ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ, ɪ ' ʟ ʟ ʙ ᴇ ᴀ ᴍ ᴇ ᴍ ᴏ ʀ ʏ
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[Ms_Sara_Darling, Those who don't grasp the thorns shall never possess the rose.]

Approved my dear :)

[sucre'd fiend]

➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)[ Tʜɪs ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏᴘᴀᴛʜɪᴄ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇss. Tᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ. I ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀᴏss ᴍᴇ, ᴀs ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ. Tʀᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴄɪʀᴄᴜᴍsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇs, ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ. Tʜᴇ sᴀʏɪɴɢs ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ᴀs ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Tʜᴇ ғʟᴏʀᴀʟ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs ᴜsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ sᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ. Gɪғs ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏs, ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs, ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ. (hide spoiler)]
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)[Iɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ғʀᴏᴍ Paro, Andi, Jenaynay, and Baa (hide spoiler)]

‟ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ; ᴠᴇɴɢᴇᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪs „

‹ ＭＩＳＡＯ ＡＫＩＹＡＭＡ ›

☱ Misao is pronounced as MIY-Saa-ow- †. Misao's origin, as well as its use, is in the Japanese language. The meaning of the name is fidelity.
☴ Means "autumn mountain" from Japanese aki "autumn" and yama "mountain, hill"

‹ ɢʜᴏsᴛ :: ʙᴀɴsʜᴇᴇ | ☪ | ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ | ☪ | 17 :: 23 ›

Pʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ|| Osaka, Japan
Dᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ|| December Twenty-Fifth ( 12/15 )
Zᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ sɪɢɴ|| ♑ Capricorn (view spoiler)[

The sign of the high roller, Capricorn is regarded as the zodiac’s top, but also quiet, life and business achievers. But, there are two very different types of Capricorns.

The first is represented by the mountain goat, always climbing higher and higher; never content until reaching the top. The second is the garden goat, with little adventurous spirit or ambition-happy to remain within a small domain, refusing to budge unless it is pushed. Either type of Capricorn, however, is patient and persevering. They reach their goals because they know the longest journey commences with a single step and that the first step is always the most difficult.

The one thing a Capricorn must always try to do is balance work with play; otherwise they can become too one-sided and work can replace true personal emotional fulfilment. Continually climbing the eternal mountain of success, Capricornians rise to the occasion when faced with a new task or deadline. Even if something comes to a grinding halt, their ambition to reach the ultimate keeps them moving forever onwards and upwards (prompted by the strict influence of ruling planet Saturn). Although conservative and cautious, Goats are willing to try unusual approaches on their road to success in business or in love. Romantically, they desire a permanent relationship with someone who'll give them the affection they crave (and often neglect to give themselves!)

The rulership of Saturn - the planet representing responsibility, structure and hard work - ensures that Capricorns in their truest of expression, are ambitious, practical and superb organizers. Although many Capricorns are borderline workaholics, this doesn't necessarily make them dull or gloomy! They have an offbeat sense of humour, which seems to erupt at the most unexpected moments. Their motivating force in life is success, money, status, authority and - although many might not admit it - love. By nature Capricorns are cautious when entering a new love relationship, but once they feel 'safe' with their partner, the cool exterior melts away to reveal a sensitive and loyal heart beneath. As a friend, Capricorns can be relied upon to provide the strongest and most sympathetic pair of shoulders in the zodiac.

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Sᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ|| Heterosexual 〈 romantic and sexual interest in those of the opposite gender 〉
Rᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs|| Single 〈 closed to requests 〉

Bɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ Wᴇʙʙɪɴɢ

〈 Ghost 〉
(view spoiler)[There are two types of ghosts. There are banshee's and immortal spirits. Immortal spirits are ghosts that are tied to the earth by a single object. If this object is taken then the ghost goes with it. Immortal spirits can be seen and they look like actual humans except you can't touch them. Though there is a way for you to touch them. You have to give up something precious to you which could be a picture or a trinket depending on it's importance to you is how much time you are allowed to touch them. Banshee's are evil spirits who like to cause chaos and death. Though it is very rare come banshees actually care for others and warn them when death or pain is coming. You can touch banshees, but only if they allow it. Banshees have the ability to make themselves visible and invisible. They also have a glowing light around them that . Most of the time the color is either blue, black, grey, or white. Nothing else. (hide spoiler)]

( ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ :: Kiko Mizuhara )

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▪ Misao is dead, and it shows. She's still soaking wet, her throat and wrists have burn marks from the ropes, and the rope still swings from her neck. Everything about her is sort of angry, from the way she moves to the way she talks. Commenting on it won't save you from her, not by a long shot. It's simply a warning that she's not Casper the friendly Ghost. Not at all. She has a tendency to flicker in and out of view, and most times she's in a different spot. Her being casts a deep black glow around herself, or what she lets be visible. It only makes her that much more eerie, and defines every single wound she got during her death.

▪ At five foot three, Misao used to believe that she could continue growing. Now, not so much. This doesn't add up with her weight, which she can easily manipulate. She weighs nothing, and then that of a drowned corpse if she so please. She slender in build, although when she repeats the cycle of her death for shits and giggles she becomes bloated ever so slightly. Her face is a nice ovoid figure, sitting nicely atop her shoulders on a neck that has both rope marks and slits from the knives used on her.

▪ Black strands of hair curve down to her chin, a bob for the modern days. There's an incline in the cut of her hair, becoming shorter as it goes further towards the back of her head. Or, at least the large crater that's at the back of her head. Her hair most often is wet and clinging to her cheeks, her complexion pale and clammy. She has the appearance of an exceptionally fevered person, skin sallow and sweaty. Her eyes, once glistening honey brown, are a darker and void expanse of brown. So dark, it's closer to black than brown. Her eyes are sunken in, furthering the cause of them being black against her nearly transparent skin. On a good, and if she's feeling human, the life returns to her with something fierce. But, don't count on it happening often.

▪ If Misao ever talks, it resembles the sound of a bubbling spring. Her voice is loud and high, but her words are usually drowned out her choking on her own blood. Her words are heavily accented, and she struggles with her English.

☛ Stands at five foot three
☛ Weighs roughly nothing
☛ Hair is black strands of hair curve down to her chin; incline in the cut of her hair, becoming shorter as it goes further towards the back of her head
☛ Skin has the appearance of an exceptionally fevered person, skin sallow and sweaty; complexion pale and clammy
☛ Eyes are closer to black than brown; once glistening honey brown, are a darker and void expanse of brown
☛ Vocally is loud and high, but her words are usually drowned out her choking on her own blood; resembles the sound of a bubbling spring; heavily accented, and she struggles with her English
☛ An added mark is rope burns on her neck and wrists; a scar along her neck, usually still letting blood loose; a crater at the back of her head
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▪ There are only two things that Misao shows up in: her kimono and the outfit she wore the night before. Funny how she'd never dreamed those would be the last things she was seen in by her family. The kimono is white with a red lace lining. Well, it supposed to be mostly white. Now, it's mostly red. The ensemble she'd put together for a party- her birthday party -was a red collared shirt, a plain green sweater that was a size larger for effect, a frilled green kilt, and silver flats that went with the earrings that dangling from her ears and the bangles on her wrist.

‟ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏʀᴇ, ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴀɪɴ; ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴍᴇ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ „

✦ █ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜs | ᴀɴɢʀʏ | ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ | ʙʀᴏᴏᴅɪɴɢ | ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ
✧ ░ Misao was once happy, you know. She had so much potential. She'd been turning seventeen when she died, and her whole life was ahead of her. But, something happened and now she's stuck in a state between life and death. No, it's not something that anyone should have to feel, and maybe that's why she changed. Not for the better, but for the worse. She's lost, lost in the existence based on betrayal.

Misao will unfailingly find some way to hurt you, even if she can't touch you for any reason whatsoever. She has a need to, well, destroy any form of life around her, and that tends to lead to her being incredibly evil. But, there are always ways around this. She takes delight in watching people run away in fear, or in totally screwing with people. She's actually driven someone to kill themselves, and enjoyed the whole show. She's been corrupted, and this is the result of it.

Angry, always angry. There's rarely a time when she isn't angry at something or someone for the littlest of things. She believes she doesn't need a reason to be angry, a reason to be hateful. She was used as a sacrifice in hopes of saving people; why shouldn't she be angry? She'd been lied to; she'd been had. Forgive her if her feelings of this show in her afterlife.

One of Misao's favorite past times these days is pissing people off. If she's making someone feel angry, it's usually around the climax of their anger that she shows herself to them. She isn't afraid to pick at other ghosts and supernatural creatures, actually. Any fight is a good fight, even if she isn't participating in it. She likes watching the bloodshed, particularly those between humans and supernaturals. Hey, she died in vain to protect them. She might as well enjoy the show.

⇣ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ⇣

[sucre'd fiend]

⇡ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ⇡

➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)[ Tʜɪs ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏᴘᴀᴛʜɪᴄ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇss. Tᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ. I ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀᴏss ᴍᴇ, ᴀs ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ. Tʀᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴄɪʀᴄᴜᴍsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇs, ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ. Tʜᴇ sᴀʏɪɴɢs ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ᴀs ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Tʜᴇ ғʟᴏʀᴀʟ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs ᴜsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ sᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ. Gɪғs ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏs, ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs, ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ. (hide spoiler)]
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)[Iɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ғʀᴏᴍ Paro, Andi, Jenaynay, and Baa (hide spoiler)]

Dwelling on the past is kind of part of the whole ghostly existence. Or, that's what Misao thinks it entitles. It's really just her excuse to stew over her old life, and think about what she lost without feeling too pitiful. Of course, this one layer of her being that people will rarely be able to see, either because she's managed to find a way to gouge their eyes out, she's already killed them, or she's scared them off. Yeah, fun times.

The black dog grows larger every day. Misao doesn't know how to stop it. When she was alive, she never had to worry about it. Depression is new to her, well, new to this part of her life, er, afterlife. It could be a side affect of her lonely existence, or of her death. Or, maybe she's conjured it up as a means to do herself some harm. Maybe some part of her is still the girl that died, and not so much the girl that kills. Who knows; you'll never get a straight answer from her if she keeps alive long enough to ask.

‟ ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀs sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ; ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴡʀᴏɴɢ „

One way or another, Misao had been prepared for her fate all her life.

It wasn't the typical thing that she had to think of, aside from schoolwork and friends, as well as her duties at home. She was only six when she was first taken to the temple, placed in front of the high priestess as a candidate for that very position. There were other girls who would have been just as glad to take her place, but she wanted to be the one that people adored. That's what every six year old wants: attention.

What are you to do, but give it to them?

"This is the girl who is to take my place?"
"Yes, this is her. Misao, bow to Lady Aiya, now."

Misao had been too busy staring at her lusciously curled hair to really hear her father. A rough hand on her head forced her into a bow, and she didn't move when her father let go. She continued staring at the ground, awe and wonder keeping her in place.

She heard the order to sit upright, and was quick to obey. She most certainly didn't want to upset the woman in front of her, the woman of absolute power. She noticed first how young she was. She was a teenager, at best. It wasn't possible that she was going to be that young with so much power, was it?

The thought brought a smile to her face, which only seemed to put a smile on the girl's face. She realized her parents had left her in the presence of the girl. They must have been working on the paperwork or whatever. That was fine; she was left with a new role model.

She was given a new purpose now, and her family didn't really need her anymore. They had her sister to keep them company, and then the opportunity to have another child. That was all fine with her.

"We're gonna have a lot of fun, Misao; the two of us are."

Years went by with Misao and Aiya becoming friendlier. Before long, they were like sisters. It was like she'd forgotten her entire family that had left her here to begin with, and in a way, she actually did. They were a long gone memory in no time at all, as if they'd never really existed.

By the time she was sixteen, and it was her turn to take on the role of high priestess. Aiya had gotten to be withdrawn and brooding the times that drew closer into this event, like there was something behind the changing of guard that no one really saw. Of course, Misao just thought it was an adult thing, since Aiya was well into her twenties at this point. Or, it was just that Aiya was sad to leave behind all the memories we had. Either way, she had been acting much unlike herself.

The night of the ceremony arrived, just after Misao turned sixteen.

"Misao, you can't go through with this."
"Why? Why are you trying to stop me?"

This was her moment to shine. Aiya's time was up, to be honest. Misao had been trained for this for ten years. As much as she loved Aiya, she also liked the attention this would bring her.

Aiya looked at a loss for a moment. The priests were calling her for the ceremony. It was only one last look they shared before she was off. The ceremony took three hours. There was a lot of water, and was there blood? The metallic sting of blood was still present on the blood, even if she didn't see any red splotches. She figured it was just the odd solvent they used.

She didn't get a chance to go look for Aiya, swept away into the numerous celebrations. She was out the latest she could have ever been allowed, and the rush of accomplishments obscured the many questions she had for the older female. She must have guessed she would get to ask them all later.

"Never mind; just be safe, okay?"

They found Aiya's body two days later, in a well.

‟ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sʟᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʀɪᴘᴇ ᴘɪɢ „

Misao never really worried herself with Aiya's death, mostly because no one told her. It was probably one of the better kept temple secrets, and Misao knew most of them like the back of her hand. She should have guessed something was wrong with their flimsy lies. It must have been the high of her recent graduation that obscured the truth. Whatever it was, it didn't last very long.

The night of the Christmas Eve party, before her last day alive, she found out. It was a whole year since Aiya's "mysterious disappearance," so the guilt of a conscience was pressing strong. She didn't know the person to approach the to be the killer, not until she put the pieces together. Not until it was already far too late for her to turn back.

"We only wish that Aiya could be here to see."
"Yes; I wanted her to be able to see all that I've done."

The elder beamed with pride before his face clouded over with darkness. The sudden shift in expression was tossed up to sadness at Aiya's absence. Misao felt the same way most days. Ready to turn to her friend with a joke she'd heard, only to find an empty seat. There were many empty places that no longer felt the same.

The elder sniffed and muttered something under his breath. Misao assumed it had something to with the party, as she caught him looking around the room like he was looking for something. She watched him withdraw a large Manila folder from his billowing kimono sleeves. He handed it to her and off.

Hours passed, and finally the party ended. The Manila folder had been pressed below her bottom through the duration of the event. She'd refused to move, keeping it concealed until she could read it herself. As people drifted into their rooms, she made her way to her own with her hidden contraband.

Opening the folder in her room, she realized what the sickly sweet smell was that hung over it; memories and baked goods. Aiya always smelled like sticky buns, a confection that had been noted as her favorite. The same smell, mixed with the tang of remorse and achingly complicated nostalgia, filled the room as she pulled out each leaf of paper.

"I'm sorry that I'm not there to tell you this myself."

Her blood ran colder with each letter and document she read. Being at the temple kept her isolated from the outside world, but this new flow of information was quickly filling the gap. Every bit of news in the world, along with information that Aiya had gotten a hold of within the temple, was making her warnings very clear. For all it was worth, though, it didn't save her.

Misao had barely been paying attention to the time, and the day of her prepared sacrifice was upon her. Maybe everything she'd read was a lie, and it had just been planted there as a test. Maybe it was simply a test of faith. She'd several of them in her early years at the temple, when she was still liable to run away. This explanation was riddled with faults, she'd realized. Someone would have had to have Aiya write the letter and print the false newspaper articles, and then make Aiya disappear without a trace.

But that still left the photographs of Aiya's mangled body. There was no real explanation, aside for some very excellent photoshop work, but nothing else aside from that. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, because she could hear the birds chirping, the signal of morning approaching. The elders entered her room just after she had set out the facade of sleep, and it was time.

"We raise this offering to bring peace."

She trembled there on the alter, bound with waterlogged ropes. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stared up at a blank sky. This was what they'd really been preparing her for. They must have expected that the supernatural wouldn't take to the testing. No one would have, if they had to endure what they had.

They preformed the three fold ceremony. A three fold death as an offering to appease the spirits. Force to the head, strangling, and cutting the throat for good measure. She'd studied the ceremony in her first year, and had always thought that it was just an old method of ceremony that would never be done again. Clearly, she was wrong, very wrong.

She heard a cracked, and a pulsating pain rocked through her skull. A warm liquid trailed down her neck, but she hadn't lost consciousness. She stayed awake as they circled her throat with more rope, pulling down until she saw spots in her vision. She was still awake when she saw the glint of the blade. When it slid over her skin, cutting open an angry red gash in its wake. She was choked on her own blood in seconds, but she was still awake. Painfully aware of her situation and what was happening to her.

She guessed they realized that she was still hanging on to life, because they lifted her from the alter with expressions of anger. Angry? Why were they angry? She was the only being murdered. With each rock of their steps, the jolts of pain faded. She was slipping, but she fought against that bright light. She could soon hear the rush of water, faded and dull. They were bringing her to the falls, and then there was the rush of wind.

⇣ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ⇣

[sucre'd fiend]

⇡ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ⇡

➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)[ Tʜɪs ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏᴘᴀᴛʜɪᴄ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇss. Tᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ. I ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀᴏss ᴍᴇ, ᴀs ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ. Tʀᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴄɪʀᴄᴜᴍsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇs, ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ. Tʜᴇ sᴀʏɪɴɢs ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ᴀs ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Tʜᴇ ғʟᴏʀᴀʟ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs ᴜsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ sᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ. Gɪғs ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏs, ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs, ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ. (hide spoiler)]
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)[Iɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ғʀᴏᴍ Paro, Andi, Jenaynay, and Baa (hide spoiler)]

They were distant specks on the balcony, and then they gone, obscured by the rush of water. Now, she could feel it, the pain. It coursed through her one last time before she let go and fell into blackness.

Where was the white light? She was sure how long she'd blacked out for, but when she opened her eyes, she was on the balcony again. She looked over the edge, and could see the white of her kimono, as her body floated through the water. Confusion took hold of her, and then a growing bitterness. Then came the anger. That was right; she was angry. It was her turn to throw them over.

"What have we done, oh ancestors?"

If this had been any other time, any time before the war, there probably would have been stories about the screams that came from the temple. There probably would have been stories of the blood that smeared the walls, or that poisoned the water. There would have been tales of the bodies that littered the grounds, turning the temple into a garden of limbs.

But it wasn't, so there were none.

‟ ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ? ɪ sʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ; ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ „

Fast forward a few years, and she's been haunting a number of unfortunate souls. Misao liked the idea of haunting. A near permanent fixture to a person of thing, moving to places she'd never seen. The first person she'd haunted was her sister when she moved to the States to escape all the Oni that were in the country.

Now, there was so much time for haunting.

✖ ▌▸ ᴅᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs, ᴇᴍᴘᴀᴛʜʏ, sᴇʟғ-ᴘʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ
✔ ▌▸ ᴀᴘᴀᴛʜʏ, ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴄʜᴀᴏs, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ
⇥ Nani? ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ

█ ) R ᴇ ʟ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ s ʜ ɪ ᴘ s

✘ ▌ Fᴀᴛʜᴇʀ - 〈 Bɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Deceased ║ ᴀɢᴇ: 43 ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤❤❤❤
↪ Tᴏʜᴍᴀ Aᴋɪʏᴀᴍᴀ

✘ ▌ Mᴏᴛʜᴇʀ - 〈 Bɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Deceased ║ ᴀɢᴇ: 43 ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤❤❤
↪ Aɪᴋᴏ Aᴋɪʏᴀᴍᴀ

✘ ▌ Sɪsᴛᴇʀ - 〈 Bɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Alive ║ ᴀɢᴇ: 21 ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤❤❤
↪ Hɪᴋᴀʀɪ Aᴋɪʏᴀᴍᴀ

✘ ▌ Rᴏʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʟ - 〈 Tᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Deceased ║ ᴀɢᴇ: 26 ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
↪ Aɪʏᴀ Mᴜʀᴀᴍᴀsᴀ

✘ ▌ Lᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ - 〈 ♥ 〉
▸ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Alive ║ ᴀɢᴇ: ║ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
↪ (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]

[Jenna ⭐]

She's freaking amaze <3
Accepted :)

[sucre'd fiend]

danke~

[☯ ƒ ι η η у ☯]

"··I ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴘɪʟʟs.··"

{ Ｌｕｃｉｎｄａ Ｖｉｏｌａ Ｒｅｖｅｎ } { Ｌｕｃｙ }

{ Iᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟʟʏ ₁₇ | Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ | ₉ Dᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ₄﹕₂₃ PM|Hᴇᴛᴇʀᴏsᴇxᴜᴀʟ }

❧ Lᴜᴄɪɴᴅᴀ ɪs ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ sᴘɪʀɪᴛ﹐ ᴇɴᴄᴀsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴏʟᴅ﹐ ʀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ʀᴀᴢᴏʀ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇs. (view spoiler)[ There are two types of ghosts. There are banshee's and immortal spirits. Immortal spirits are ghosts that are tied to the earth by a single object. If this object is taken then the ghost goes with it. Immortal spirits can be seen and they look like actual humans except you can't touch them. Though there is a way for you to touch them. You have to give up something precious to you which could be a picture or a trinket depending on it's importance to you is how much time you are allowed to touch them. Banshee's are evil spirits who like to cause chaos and death. Though it is very rare come banshees actually care for others and warn them when death or pain is coming. You can touch banshees, but only if they allow it. Banshees have the ability to make themselves visible and invisible. They also have a glowing light around them that . Most of the time the color is either blue, black, grey, or white. Nothing else. (hide spoiler)]

Lucinda has medium length, golden blonde hair that curls slightly at the ends. It tumbles down past her shoulders, but Lucinda never let her hair get past her mid-section. She has hazel brown eyes, that in just the correct light shine a bit green. Her almond shaped eyes compliment her high cheek bones and pearly white smile. Her lips are thin, and usually extend into a breathtaking smile. Lucinda hardly lets her hair get into her face, so it's usually very visible. Aside from her face, Lucinda's body is small in comparison to many. She's very petite and slim, and may seem very frail to many. Although she's gotten compliments by many that her slimness makes her look willowy, she always rejects the compliment, stating that "her limbs are not long, but short, so there is no way in hell she could look willowy."

UNDER CONSTRUCTION (view spoiler)[ sorry to leave her like this, but it's quite late and I can feel my eyes drooping. Rather leave her for tomorrow when I know I can deliver much better quality characters. (hide spoiler)]

[[deleted user]]

((She looks fabulous so far! ))