Rebels

[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

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[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

Part One of Three

"I'm sick and tired of being labeled. Just because I have a certain job or I'm in a certain caste, whether I want to be in that caste or not... or I love a certain person, man or woman. The royals sit up on their thrones with no care for their people. I'll kill them all, until someone takes the throne who gives a damn. And while I'm killing... Might as well have fun doing it."




Basic Details

Ƒιяѕт Ɲαмє: Jennifer
MιɗɗƖє Ɲαмє: Imogen
Lαѕт Ɲαмє: Floros
Name Meanings:
↳ Jennifer, English, meaning "White Enchantress" and/or "The Fair One"
↳ Imogen, Irish, meaning "Maiden"
↳ Floros, Greek, meaning "Green"
Ɲιcкηαмєs: Immy, Jen, Jenny, Jinny, Flo.

Agє: 25
Ɗαтє σf Ɓιятн: December 10th
ƤƖαcє σf Ɓιятн: She was born in the cold region of Yukon, but she didn't stay there.



SєxυαƖ Oяιєηтαтιση: Bisexual
Ƈяυѕн: Damon and any good looking rebellious man who can show her a good time.
RєƖαтισηѕнιρ Sтαтυѕ: Frisky.



Ƈαѕтє: 2
ƝαтισηαƖιту: Caucasian, Illean.
Occυραтιση: Model/Southern Rebel
Face Claim: Marie Avgeropoulos

Aρρєαяαηce:



(view spoiler)[






<<< In her War paint



(hide spoiler)]

Height: 5'5
Weight: 130 lb
Hair colour: Long dark brown hair, always kept sleek and well taken care of. Occasionally some strands of color dyed in.
Skin colour: Caucasian skin, moderately tan at times but mostly kept light.
Eyes: Jade green eyes, sometimes bright green in certain lights.
Body type: Model-like, despite not being very tall. Curvy hips, long legs, thin waist, b-cup breasts, size 8 feet.
Distinguishable markings: She has a couple of tattoos. On her right wrist is a compass tattoo: (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)] Along the right side of her left foot is a quote tattoo: (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)] And on her left side: (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)] She wants to get more tattoos, maybe one on her back or leg. And she does have some scars, but the most faded ones are the ones with the most story to them. They're on her back, a series of whip lashes that have all but faded, now very faint.

Ɗяєѕѕ SтуƖє: Anything tight and dark colored.

ƤєяѕσηαƖιту: Jennifer is complicated. When she was younger, she was the picture of inner beauty. She was kind and generous, polite, a small town girl who would drop everything for anyone. She was a girl with a golden smile, innocent and naïve, someone who loved life. Radiant, really. She was still daring, even then, but most who didn't know her would say she was shy and quiet spoken. She was a family girl, and most said she'd never leave Yukon or her family, despite being a local model. Until certain things came to pass. Now she's a much more extreme girl with an unbreakable outer shell around her heart. She's brave and often crude, always saying what she wants and always talking back. She doesn't fear death, and it shows in every death-defying move she makes. There's a killer instinct in her, and she's not afraid to use it. She doesn't care about killing, stealing, or anything unmoral anymore. She only cares about survival and her boyfriend, Damon. She's impatient, most of the time, and she hates to follow orders. But no one can say she isn't loyal. She takes no one's bullshit, and she does whatever the hell she wants. Deep down, maybe she's still the bright eyed girl from Yukon, but she'd never show anyone that. She's a private person, and while she's not exactly a liar, she'll skirt around the truth if she wants to avoid telling it. There's not much to explain, except that she's a complicated firecracker of a girl who will kill if she even slightly feels it necessary. She also is a little weak willed when it comes to romance, letting her man do pretty much anything to her, just to gain his approval, even if it means her dying. She'd never leave him, even if she'd threaten it to rile him up. She'd complain or argue, maybe, but in the end she follows what he wants without question. Maybe it's the naivety in her, or maybe she values the life of those she loves above her own. She's sarcastic with a bite to her tone, and will always have the last word. Also, she's a bit spoiled and a little bit arrogant, though she's highly intelligent and knows when she's truly in the wrong.

Lιкєѕ: The forest, camp fires, fire flies, butterflies, weaponry, hunting, snow, log cabins, skiing, snow boarding, fighting, killing towards a good cause (in her mind), kissing, having sex, cuddling, swimming in the lake, dressing up, dressing for war, receiving gifts, the smell of burning wood, polishing weapons, training, working out, riding her motorcycle, complaining, her family, arguing with Damon, being with Damon.

ƊιѕƖιкєѕ: Being with Damon, being beaten (in war, not by Damon. Damon she puts up with.), disgusting smells, eating common canned food instead of five star dinners, stupid people, people she doesn't like, romantic rivals, royals, enemies, losing battles, being cornered, being told no, being jealous of other girls with Damon, seeing Damon with other girls, being injured, arguing with people other than Damon.

Hσввιєѕ αηɗ ǀηтєяєѕтѕ: She enjoys riding her motorcycle and maintaining it, being quite good at anything mechanical. She also likes polishing her weapons and training with them, hunting both animals and humans, planning battles, and anything that involves Damon. She likes the photo shoots that go with being a model, and she especially enjoys any athletic hobby. Swimming, snow sports, dirt biking, any of that. She also likes to go sun tanning, and fighting in battle. Also, does 'pissing off Damon' count as a hobby? Because she loves that almost as much as she loves sleeping with him.

Sтяєηgтнѕ: Fighting, arguing, modeling, being active, winning, being beautiful, being sexual, riling up Damon, anything to do with hunting or battle, and being loyal.

Ɯєαкηєѕѕєѕ: Opening up to people, trusting others, being touched on her back, her fears, her family, and being belittled by Damon (though she acts like it doesn't get to her).

Hιѕтσяу: See Part Two and Three.



Relations: (view spoiler)[

Mother: Annalee, Her mother and her were very close. In fact, her mother was a bit of a badass, a mechanic caste 4 who ran a junk yard, but was born a caste two and had been a model like Jennifer before marrying down to Four. A woman with a headstrong attitude almost as bad as her own daughter. Perhaps Jennifer adopted that from her, after certain events. She was a mother lion who was fiercely protective of her children, and it led to her death. She was publically executed, her head chopped off, a real messy affair. The moment still gives Jen nightmares, to this day. FC: Monique Ganderton.



Father: Josiah, A caste Four construction manager who was rather solitary, but kind. Polite, a family man, who worked hard and earned his money. Lucky enough to catch the attention of a model, one that married him, no less. And he wasn't foolish enough to claim he couldn't make her marry down to his level, he didn't care about the castes. He loved her, and that was that. Jennifer was a daddy's girl, and often worked construction and mechanics with her father and mother. FC: Zachary Quinto.



Older Brother: Jennifer was closer to her brother than anyone, and it led to certain events which changed her forever. Her brother, Jacob, was gay, and it got him killed, which is a complicated story included in her history. Jennifer never forgave those who killed him, and blamed the royals more than anyone else. She kills to avenge her brother's death. FC: Bobby Morley.



(hide spoiler)]

Oтнєя:



Favorite Colors: Green, Black, Blue, Red.
Favorite Flower: Solanaceae, also known as Nightshade.
Favorite Foods: Souvlaki, a Greek food that consists of small pieces of meat and sometimes vegetables grilled on a skewer. Basically kabobs with meat.
Favorite Constellation: Pegasus, because of her favorite Greek Legend.
Birthstone: Turquoise or Tanzanite.
Birth Sign: Sagittarius.
Birth Element: Fire.
Fears: Being cornered, fire, executions, whips, being forgotten, Damon dying, her family dying, the end of the Southern Rebellion.
Flaws: Her tendency to argue with just about everything, never wanting to back down, always having to have the last word, being a little bit selfish, being headstrong, being too eager to fight, and not opening herself up to most people.
Theme Song: All of Me by John Legend (cover by Madilyn and Jason).

[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

Part Two of Three



"What do you want to know about me? I lived, and I'll die."

Jennifer Floros's History

Jenny, as she used to be called, was a good girl. She was born in the small mountainous city of Yukon. But first, let me explain her family. Her mother, Annalee Floros (nee Adarren), was born a Two, a daughter of a prominent family who grew up to be a model. She had many suitors, carefully being considered to marry her to. But when Josiah Floros visited St. George and caught her eye, they knew they were meant for each other. It was a whirlwind romance, him the rugged Four who came from a family of Sevens and had worked his way up, and her the heiress to a family of pride and prejudice. Needless to say, her family disapproved. They would never let her marry someone so... rugged. But Annalee was in love. She continued seeing Josiah in secret, until her family betrothed her to a young diplomat from the German Federation named Gerard. He was pompous and rich, everything Annalee hated. She despised him, but there was nothing, or very little she could do. Strangely, the night before her wedding to sir Gerard, her entire family and him were found murdered, all stabbed to death in their sleep. Annalee, who claims she was 'out' at the time with Josiah, was the only one spared. In truth, it was her. She murdered everyone to run off with her true love. But they could never find the evidence, and she had a couple of ties within the law that she used to her advantage. Within a few weeks she was cleared as a suspect, and a month after that she was marrying Josiah and running off to live with him in Yukon. They had a happy life together, until the birth of their first born, a baby boy they named Jacob.

Jacob was a very loved boy, but growing up he was quiet and timid. Nothing like his headstrong mother, but he was closer to her than his dad. He wasn't very close to anyone, though, keeping to himself mostly, observing and listening rather than speaking and doing. He never had many friends, and if he did they were girls, he never got close to many boys, except for an African boy named Dorian who he watched from afar, until they were older and Dorian approached him and made him open up a little bit, got him to talk and be his friend. The two were inseparable since then, more so than anyone guessed until later on.

But first, Jennifer. Jennifer was born four years after her older brother. She was the baby girl her parents longed for, and therefore very spoiled. Growing up, she had the best bonds with her father, very much a daddy's girl. But she was even closer to her big brother Jacob, who she worshipped. He could do no wrong. She would often brush his curly hair and ride on his shoulders. He'd tell her the best stories, of unicorns and butterflies so large you could ride on their backs. He took her on her first hunt, and taught her how to defend herself, something that was commonly taught in the small city of Yukon. The two were inseparable, companions to the end.

Until Jennifer was about sixteen, and her brother was twenty. See, Jacob was gay and had began a relationship with his childhood friend, Dorian. They were lovers, and very serious about each other. Had gay marriage been acceptable in Illea at the time, he probably would have asked Dorian to marry him. Jacob, who was very honest, didn't lie and told his family about the relationship. He admitted he loved Dorian, and if that made them hate him, then so be it. Thankfully, his parents understood and accepted it. Jennifer... had a little bit of a harder time. Not that she didn't like gay people, but because the relationship had been going on for so long and Jacob had never told her. Not to mention she had often dreamed of Jacob getting married an having children that looked like him and would call her 'Aunt Jenny'. A wedding she could be a bridesmaid of, children she could spoil, all the dreams of his children growing up with hers, the whole thing. They argued about it, ridiculous really, a fight that she blew out of proportion and was so angry about. She stormed out, and she told him she hated him. She was just shocked, to be honest, even though she wanted him to be happy, she felt betrayed. Like her brother was a whole new person and she didn't know him anymore. Dorian had sat at dinners with them, and played with her when she was little, and had teased and joked with her, and played pranks on Jacob with her. And everything felt like a lie when she learned. She would have come around, eventually. And he did, but... it was too late.

Dorian was the son of the captain of the local guard there in Yukon. The Captain was a cold man who looked badly against homosexual relationships. He knew his son was gay, and he was against it, vehemently so. He couldn't accept it, he wouldn't. He abused his power as the law in Yukon, and that was dire to Jacob and Dorian's relationship. When he learned that Jacob Floros was screwing (since he couldn't accept they were in love) his son, he was outraged. It was the day after Jacob confessed the relationship to his family. Him, Dorian, Annalee, and Josiah was sitting at breakfast in the family dining room. Jennifer, who was still not talking to anyone, had gone out hunting, because killing things helped get her anger out. While she was gone, the Yukon guard bust in, startling her family and Dorian. Dorian was dragged out and blindfolded, and the rest of her family was tied up and dragged out after. They struggled and yelled, not knowing what was happening. A neighbor boy who was sweet on Jennifer witnessed it and ran out to find her in the woods, telling her to come, and quick. They stopped at her home, and she saw the horrific scene of the dining room. Broken furniture, dishes shattered on the floor, the room cold and empty. They immediately ran out to go to the pavilion, a small outdoor area in the woods where local whippings and executions for crimes, rare as they were, happened.



The neighbor boy had urged Jennifer not to go there, just to run while she still could. But she said only what was natural, "I'm not going anywhere without my brother." She knew why they had been taken, it wasn't hard to figure out. And she knew what was in store for her family... though she couldn't have guessed how terrible it would really be. When they reached the area, there was a huge crowd. The whole town must have been there. From the back of the crowd, Jennifer heard, "For his crimes of homosexual rape and molestation of a Dorian Abernathy, Sir Jacob Floros will be beaten and hung. By royal decree of the Yukon Guard, that will be his punishment. Any last words?" She remembers those words as clear as day, like a chill down her spine. She also remembers Jacob's voice, tight like his throat was tense from the tears strolling down his cheeks. But he was so sure, so unwavering, as he looked up at the captain and said, "I love Dorian Abernathy. If I am to die for the crime of love, then die I will. But I will not hide, I will not deny the truth, and I will not die trying to save my own skin for the supposed 'crime' of being in love." Jennifer pushed through the crowd, heart racing, dread in her. She could hear Dorian, who was being held back by some guards, no longer blindfolded, screaming, "IT WASN'T RAPE. FATHER I LOVE HIM. FATHER PLEASE, DON'T HURT HIM! PLEASE! FATHER!!" and she could hear her parents protesting, struggling against where they were tied, being forced to watch as three guards threw a tied Jacob down into the dirt and began kicking the life out of him as he cried out. Jennifer got to the front of the crowd to witness it, her brother's shirt torn and bloody, his skin purple, his face so bruised it barely looked like him. The Captain wasn't going easy on him, he looked dead already if it weren't for his feeble cries of pain, like a wounded animal from one of their hunts. Dorian could only stand and watch, struggling meekly from his guards but knowing it was too late to save his love, overcome with crying. Her parents were much the same. No one expected Jennifer's arrival. She was tearing up herself. but more so was the rage in her expression. How could they? How could this be called 'royal decree'? Senselessly beating her big brother for having the audacity t be in love?! Her rage burned through her and she raced from the crowd, power in ever step, grabbing the dagger from her belt, she leaped and her arms wrapped around a guard's neck as she clung to his back, slicing his throat with a war cry of pure vengeance. As he fell, she went to the next guard, ready to continue her fight, but the Captain stopped her, grabbing her wrist and snapping it, breaking it easily. Beating her brother took a pause as the Captain held her up by her now broken wrist, making her drop the knife as she let out a cry of pain.

"Ah, the sister. Are you a sinning monstrosity too, girl? Must be, to have just killed one of my men. Perhaps your brother isn't the only one requiring punishment." His tone was cold, insane almost, and real fear shook Jennifer that day. The last day she ever let fear get to her, as he threw her to the ground and she stayed there, quaking in her boots. Her mother's screaming got the captain's attention, however. "LEAVE HER ALONE! TAKE ME, PUNISH ME INSTEAD!" As some other guards grabbed Jennifer and dragged her to her feet, the Captain turned his attention to her parents. Jennifer felt like screaming, but she could just watch in horror, her brother coughing blood on the ground, her parents speaking up to take punishment in her place. "Hmm. Yes, because you two are the ones who bred and created these two sinners." The Captain remarked, not even sounding sane as he walked over to her parents. Her mother, a spitfire, spat in his face and coldly replied, "They are not the sinners here. They are innocent in the eyes of the royals that you claim to be bringing justice for. A man who places his own son's happiness under the fact that happiness involves another man, is a fool." Jennifer remembers the cry that left her as the Captain's hand smacked her mother to the side, pushing her to the ground. The Captain spat right back on her, as Josiah glared at him, struggling against his bonds again. Had he gotten free, he would have killed Sir Abernathy for hitting his wife. Without replying, the Captain gestured to the guards, who grabbed Jennifer's parents, dragging them to the middle of the pavilion. Jennifer can remember struggling against the guards who held her back, screaming obscenities, demanding they let her parents go. She knew what was to happen, and it sent dread through her, but all she could do was watch and listen.

"In the name of the Illean Royal Family, by the hand of the Yukon Guard, I sentence Annalee and Josiah Floros to execution by sword. May the heavens frown upon their crime, leaving their spirits to wander for eternity." The Captain called out. The crowd was yelling and struggling, but a line of guards kept them back. All of Yukon knew this wasn't right, but the Captain's guards were loyal to him and wouldn't let them through. Jennifer can't remember any words leaving her, just remembers the tears down her face, almost calmly. And then, as the captain sat her parents up and sliced off their heads with his sword, she remembers the head-splitting screams coming from her. With no meaning to it, except to make the noise as she watched her parents unjustly executed in the name of justice.

[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

Part Three of Three

Jennifer Floros's History

And then, as the captain sat her parents up and sliced off their heads with his sword, she remembers the head-splitting screams coming from her. With no meaning to it, except to make the noise as she watched her parents unjustly executed in the name of justice.

Jennifer remembers the red blood everywhere, her parents no longer shedding tears, their last words of 'I love you' lost in Jennifer's screaming as their bodies fell to the ground along with their lifeless heads. Her brother was still on the ground, too beaten up to move. Jennifer was just... screaming, until she couldn't anymore, not sure whether she was crying or not. It was too much to watch. She was unaware of reality, until the Captain spoke again.

"Now... back to the sinners. Perhaps the girl first, let her brother watch what his sins have led to. A good whipping before her death will teach her." The Captain remarked. This was a moment Jennifer wasn't proud of, but she was scared. She remembers the guards dragging her to the whipping post and her whimpering, crying. "Please... No... Please, just let us go... Please." She kept begging, over and over, scared of the pain. She wasn't scared later, however, because she had nothing left to live for, so later, she wished she had died. It would have ended her suffering. She remembered her wrists being bound and tied to the whipping post, and she remembers watching the Captain through blurry tears. She could still hear Dorian in the background, "THIS IS ABOUT ME AND JACOB, NOT HER. DON'T HURT HER! FATHER, PLEASE, DON'T HURT HIS LITTLE SISTER!!" and she remembers turning her head to see her brother weakly looking at her, tears in his eyes, mouthing the words, "Be strong." She felt horrible for telling him she hated him, and in that moment she felt like she deserved it. She deserved the whipping. Of course, once she was whipped she thought no one deserved that pain. It was horrible, and her screams kept coming, her hands clenched against the wooden post. The whip sounding in her ears right before the leather bit into her back, breaking through her shirt and slicing into the soft skin of her back. Blood dripped down her skin, and it hurt so bad she couldn't breathe, sure she was dying. Though somehow, her brother's mouthings to be strong helped, and by the end her fear was gone, instead was a resolution to be defiant and resilient. The whip sometimes was swung wrong and smacked her in the face instead, not bad but enough to bleed. When it ended, blood had gathered in her mouth, and she looked up at the Captain. "Had enough, girl?" He asked her, pure hatred burning in his dark eyes, his gruff voice unforgiving. In answer, she spat blood at him, keeping stubborn.



She remembers seeing his hand shortly before she felt her head snap to the side, which made her wince. "Insolent brat." He growled at her, to which she talked back, "Better and insolent brat... than a daddy with temper issues." (hehe, Damon) She mocked him openly. He raised the whip to continue, to teach her a lesson, but that is when their saviors came. A Royal Convoy that had been visiting every city, stopped in the province of Yukon, and had come right into the pavilion. They saw the horrific scene, with Jennifer bloody and whipped, her parents' decapitated bodies laying in pools of blood, her brother beaten within inches of his life, weakly coughing up blood, Dorian tied up and screaming at his father, his voice hoarse by now, and the crowd of protesting Yukonians barely being held back. The Royal Convoy strode into the pavilion on white steams, the royal guard emblem on their shining armor. They were angels to Jennifer, who was struggling to breathe in the pain, her back and face stinging. She doesn't remember exactly what happened after that, only that the Captain was took down and handcuffed, going to be sentenced in Angeles by the Royal Family. She didn't pay attention to any of that, just trying to breathe and not pass out... until they untied her hands. She pushed away their help and scrambled over to her brother, where Dorian already was, holding his hand, alongside a doctor who had pushed through the crowd. But both of them stepped back for Jennifer, who took Dorian's place at her brother's side. She glanced at the doctor, who solemnly shook his head. Jacob wouldn't make it. It was a miracle he hung on this long. Dorian had run out of words to scream and tears to have, but he had the befallen look of a man who had lost his soul mate. Surely Jennifer looked similar, losing her brother. Holding his hand, she looked down at her bloody, broken brother. "Jacob... I-I'm s-s-so sorry. I shouldn't have-" yelled at you... told you I hated you... left home that morning... But Jacob weakly shooshed her. "Don't... I understand. I should... have told you." Jennifer sniffled, shaking her head. "Don't talk. It's okay, I know... I know why you didn't. I forgive you, but only if you forgive me, okay?" She asked him, her voice shaking. Her heart was breaking, watching her once strong brother dying before her. "Of course... Hey sis... D-Don't tell Dorian but... I'm scared." Jennifer could see the tears in his eyes, and if she was honest, she was scared too. Terrified. But she had to be strong for him, patting a wet cloth the doctor had given her to her brother's forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise." She told him, the first thing she'd said without her voice shaking, even though it was a lie. He smiled weakly, "Hey... that's my job..." He whispered, and then she watched the light fade from his eyes, his hand falling limp in hers.




If anyone were to ask, she'd say she doesn't remember what happens next, but if you ask any who were present, they'll say this. Dorian sobbed behind her, and Jennifer didn't seem to have any emotion on her face. They say she just laid down his hand and stood up with an eery calmness, ignoring the pain and turning to where a cuffed Captain Abernathy was being led away. They say she grabbed twin daggers from her belt and ran forward like an animal warrioress without a fear of death, stopping right in front of him, one dagger held up and pointed down, the other held pointed up to his neck. She leaned close, smiling in an almost chilling way, true happiness in her eyes. "Going to kill me now, are you?" They say he asked her. "Happily. Go to hell, bastard." She replied with a cold gleefulness, before jamming the upward putting dagger through his neck. Next thing she remembers, a guard smacked her across the head to knock her unconscious, but that was okay. She'd killed him. Happily.



She ended up in jail for murder, and she would have remained there. It was a kind sentence, being that usually murderers got executed. Indeed, every guard who had helped the Captain had been executed for it. Yukon lost many that day. Being in jail, she didn't get to see the funeral Yukon held for her parents and brother. And she never saw Dorian again, though later she heard he killed himself. He truly had loved Jacob, and she only wished she hadn't of gotten upset and had accepted that... If only to have spent that morning with them and gotten tied up and executed with them, too. But do you remember the neighbor boy from earlier who was soft on her? This is where he comes to her rescue. He was a pickpocket, a good for nothing thief. And he got himself arrested, just to get to her. Once in, he pickpocketed the keys off a guard and staged a jail break, making it to her. She had resigned herself to dying in jail, and had stopped eating. She refused to go with him when he opened her cell. Until he said, "Do you think Jacob died just so you could follow him?! He died so you could live. So either you get up and we fight this, or you crawl away and die like a coward!" Those words resonated with her. He was right. She could still live, to get vengeance against the royals for her family. Sure, they hadn't done it. In fact, the whole incident led to them legalizing gay marriage for Illea. But there were so many things wrong with the system, and Captain Abernathy had killed her family in their name. She needed someone to blame, a purpose to strive to kill, and they fit the bill. So, she broke out of jail with the neighbor boy. He didn't make it, though. She just ran, and when she looked behind her, he had been grabbed by a guard. She thought he would be killed. Just one more on the worst day of her life, he didn't faze her, and she left him to her fate. She barely knew him, but she remembers his name being Devon. Devon Beckett, an Eight. Somehow she found clean clothes, got her wounds taken care of, got a meal. She was a fugitive now, but she didn't care. She started traveling, from province to province. Just wandering, really, no purpose and no plan for her revenge. Until Damon found her. She'd ran out of coin and was hungry, and he bought her some food at a local pub. She hadn't really talked to anyone since the incident, and Damon got her a few drinks, so she ended up telling him everything. Her entire story. And then ended up sleeping with him. He was cute, and he was her first. She was still young, then, about twenty. He told her he was going to find a group of Southern Rebels, that he planned to kill their leader and take over. So he asked her to come with, be his girl, fight the Royals with him. She wasn't sure what damage he had, nor why he wished to kill the royals. But she could sense he was strong and ruthless. That he wouldn't hold her back, that he could protect her while she insisted she could protect herself. Still, she was a little unsure. So she said she would decide once he managed to kill the leader. As they traveled, however, they went through many forests. And along the way, she saw a butterfly, much like the kind she had seen in Yukon, but she'd never seen one like this one. It brought her hope, and made her think of her brother, something she had kept herself from doing. The butterfly made her think that her family would approve. They would want her to see the royal family burn to the ground. Maybe she had grown a taste for killing. Maybe she needed a twisted purpose to keep her alive. All she knew was she had Damon, he was all she had left, and he was taking that path, so she would take it with him. And she hasn't turned back since.

[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

Approved!

[sucre'd fiend]

(view spoiler)[
created by fiend; inspired by jenn, shah, and chrys
(hide spoiler)]


━━━━─ · · 「 R Y A N N E C H E R R I W I C K E R 」 · · ─━━━
female × twenty-one × mar. ii × single ( homosexual ) × northern rebel
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ruby rose × golden brown × honey brown × six two × one fifty-six

p e r s o n a l i t y ⇢ I said often

[ r ] ye is not one to really start something over nothing. It usually has to be fairly important to really stir her up for anything. In most cases, her trouble lies with her particularly directed interests. She has, on occasion, ruined a few relationships without a single regret. Many see her as a little heartless in this regard, also in the way she can let a lover go in a heartbeat. Then again, she expects that they know what they're walking into when she beds them to begin with. She doesn't like lying or liars, and thus, she's always perfectly clear with people: don't get too attached to her because she could get bored with you whenever.

She is not a woman scared of commitment. No, she just prefers a hit and run sort of ordeal with her partners. Rye can't stand it when people get clingy, or overly attached. She thinks that's when things go wrong, go south. Because then there's the possibility of feelings being truly hurt and of losing someone, and that's what she doesn't think she can handle. So, Rye trues to avoid those kinds of things. Sure, she may seem slightly like less of a lady killer, but she would be one anyways. She's been told that when she decides to dress slightly more like the opposite gender, she's sex on legs. Which is a little funny in her opinion.

If you want the a kinder truth, don't approach Rye for it. Her words, while sometimes chosen delicately, aren't always kind. The truth, she thinks, will be kind if it wants to. It's something of its own being, to her. Truth isn't something you can run from either. Which is why she's so open about her sexual escapades. What's the point of hiding it if someone's gonna find out about it anyways? It's too much work, too much energy that could go into something else entirely.

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[ fixations ] flirting, sleeping, swimming
[ abhorrences ] lying, liars
[ specialties ] viciously true statements, coordination
[ kryptonite ] remaining serious and on topic
[ interests ] flirting, swimming, dressing
[ weapons ] a pistol and knife

r e c o l l e c t i o n s ⇢ get me redder than the devil

[ t ] here are times that everyone regrets a decision, or gets nostalgic about the things that they've done. Ryanne's mother regrets her choice, but none so much as having her daughter. She didn't believe that her marriage would succeed unless she had a child, something tangible for them to cling to. Isbin and Jasper had wanted only to give some life to their holy matrimony. So, when their daughter was born, they were ecstatic. Overjoyed, elated, and ready to get on with their lives.

They pampered her, spoiled the girl that was Ryanne. She wasn't one to take this, though, and found she liked being left alone more so. She was raised to be good, to be sweet, to be so very much like a respectable lady, but that wasn't what she wanted. She'd climb trees and throw rocks and play in the mud. She would do things they thought was a little too masculine for her, and she didn't seem to show any sign of stopping. Why should she? She thought that all kids were supposed to play and have fun, but that apparently was not what her parents had in mind.

They chastised her constantly, told her how she should be on a daily basis. Ryanne didn't much like this, or her name as she soon came to realize. She began to tell people to call her Rye or Cherri at the age of eleven. She was slender and tall, face angular and sweet. People would compliment her long flowing hair, her pretty little walk, but she didn't feel much towards this. They thought she'd look best in a dress, while she liked the feel of pants.

She was, in a sense, restricted. She was to be so completely feminine, and while she did that side of her, that wasn't what she was. Rye decided that she'd take a hold of her own life. She chopped off her hair, refused the makeup her mother usually tried to make her wear. This was something that, if her parents had paid attention, could have either been avoided or foreseen. It was all dependent on them.

Isbin in particular didn't take kindly to her sixteen year old daughter brought home a girlfriend. There wasn't much said, just a forced smile and she was gone. Rye had grown up with that look, and knew her mother wasn't pleased. Which was entirely the point. She had developed a sort of animosity towards her mother, the one who restricted her most. As a member of the second caste, they were close to royalty. They had to be presentable. No scandals, no misbehaving. In Isbin's mind, Rye was just that: a scandal.

Rye remembers when her mother first saw her tattoos. All that silent anger and disappointment burst through, and they were screaming at one another. Isbin wasn't one to be physical, but somehow her hands found a knife. There was a moment of pent up tension pausing for effect, and then her mother was slashing. Rye very narrowly avoided get her eye being taken out, in favor for a right pretty mark on her face.

It was suffice to say that Rye ran and never looked back. There was no need to, as she had realized that there was nothing in that house for her. She spent her time climbing into the beds of others for a while, until the idea of the Northern Rebellion came to her in the whispers of the night. She was intrigued, and thought that it seemed right enough.

So she joined.

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[ biological ]
  ▽ mother -- isbin wicker ( nee bellmont )
  ▽ father -- jasper wicker
[ external ]
  ▽ allies -- Northern Rebels
  ▽ friends -- open
  ▽ enemies -- open
  ▽ lover -- open

[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

RYANNE! WE MUST CONTINUE OUR COLLAB BTW! WITH CASPER! Approved!

[sucre'd fiend]

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created by fiend; inspired by jenn, shah, and chrys
(hide spoiler)]


━─ · · 「 L A F A Y E T T E W I L L I A M A M H E A R S T 」 · · ─━
male × twenty × jun. xxi × single ( pansexual ) × southern rebel
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eddie redmayne × harmonious green-blue × rusted red × five six × two

p e r s o n a l i t y ⇢ chance is the only thing I play with

[ l ] afayette is much like a hound let out to play. He's energetic and eager, all over the place with activity. He seems like the cutest little thing in the world. He's got a cuddly look to him, like someone you'd want to hug and never let go of. But, that's not something that would be advised; he doesn't do well with contact. Years of being pretty much oppressed in his true nature, of having to don a cloak of invisibility in his own home have accumulated to the point that he's now bursting at the seams with that common trait between all of the Southern rebels: violence. He doesn't care if he's part of it or watching, though he's better at standing by after instigating whatever has led to a physical confrontation. Lafayette has, decidedly, become one with what brings forth his inner peace.

Life lessons from the wrong people are what Lafayette suffers from, truly. He's had some pretty terrible role models; people that just shouldn't be consulted for anything. He, of course, knew nothing of this when he followed their teachings. He probably could have avoided them if he tried, but he'd always been fascinated with the sins of life. It could have been something different he was doing now if he'd been more inclined to remain within the legal precedence his parents had set for him. But, oppression can make a person want to rebel enough to be their own person. Being mechanic was not something that Lafayette wanted, the little dreamer.

There's been speculation--it's odd, strange, unusual--but Lafayette has an innocence about him that just can't be shaken. He's not like most of his fellow male rebels, with intents of rape and assault on women. No, he's still got those refined manners, those old ways of being polite, of being a gentleman. He can't get anything sexual out of his mouth with stammering and tripping over his words with a bright red blush on his cheeks. He can be considered much like a child in this regard, despite his age and his great affinity towards starting violence. But, that just makes everything more interesting, doesn't it?

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[ fixations ] violence, the rebellion, Damon + Fury ( mostly for their violence )
[ abhorrences ] being told what to do, peace, being told to calm down
[ specialties ] instigating confrontations
[ kryptonite ] being anything less than gentlemanly
[ interests ] starting fights, watching blood spill
[ weapons ] whatever he can get his hands on

r e c o l l e c t i o n s ⇢ secretly you love this

[ m ] any suffer from a case of ignorance daily, but none quite as much as Lafayette's father. The poor thing--or, well, incredibly wealthy heir of a large corporation at the forefront of Illean trade--was sucked into a marriage arranged for power. You'd think that's not a thing, oh, but it is. And if Lafayette hadn't done the things he did, he'd probably be stuck in a similar position. But, that's besides the point. The point being this: Alistair Amhearst was doomed to be bound to a spoiled little rich girl and her many vain desires of being loved. Not the deep sort of being loved that someone might associate with an affluent girl that had parents more concerned with work than her, but the kind where she wanted everyone to worship the ground she walked on. She wanted to show off that she had a hold on Alistair, and he didn't even notice.

He didn't notice as she drained their resources and wanted more. He didn't notice because he was such a goddamn fool. And it carried on to the son they had two years into their marriage. Lafayette was loved, cared for, raised the way his father had been, and his father before him, and the list went on. A long standing tradition of being proper and right, of not giving in to corruption, but that wasn't something that should have been taught to him. It is perhaps would made him so viable to choose someone else to look after.

His mother wasn't one of those people. She was one of those overly proud mothers that would always use her children as trump cards. Sorry, child. She didn't think her figure could take more than one child, and thus left Lafayette to his own devices. That could have been another point of failing. Another point that turned Lafayette into what he is. Or maybe he was always this way. Maybe this was the way he had been destined to be. There would have been no other force that could have stopped his variance.

It started with watching dogs rip each other apart. Apparently, his uncle thought it was a gentleman's sport. A sport worth watching. Why? Because it symbolized power and the world, and that the underdog would never win unless with some help. Lafayette was fascinated by this, so enthralled was he. All he wanted to stay and watch the dogs go. Big dogs bested by little dogs, big dogs shredding little dogs. Injured, healthy, diseased, dying, violence. It was a man's lesson shown to an impressionable boy.

Next was the hunting. Nothing fancy; just geese roused and then shot down one by one. Picked off like it was a game. Which it was. Perhaps the best were the pheasants, so colored and pretty. When they fell, not yet dead, they floundered and their blue feathers spread out to catch the sun. It was almost celestial, like watching an iridescent cerulean angel fall from the heavens. To say that he adored the sight of them in their descent would be an understatement. He began to become the man his uncle wanted him to be. Violent in a very directed way. But, he surpassed what was expected of him.

The great sport that came next was watching people. Watching them throw punches and swing knives all because of a few words. Lafayette, still small in size, knew better than to get in the middle of those things. He knew, though, how to start it all. He watched from gamblers, cheaters, thieves, and the other dregs of society. It started small and grew like a roaring wildfire, devouring everything in its path.

His parents caught wind of this, and his sports were put to an end. And then they were put to an end. It didn't take much to convince people that he didn't much like his parents. Truthfully, he cared for them, but they got in the way of his fun. It was only the mention of money that split their blood over the pristine floors, the decorated walls, the fine china, and everywhere else they had run in hopes of salvation that would never come.

And now he thinks he's found the perfect place for his sport.

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[ biological ]
  ▽ mother -- Lillian Amhearst ( nee Beauchamp )
  ▽ father -- Alistair Amhearst
[ external ]
  ▽ allies -- Southern Rebels
  ▽ friends -- open
  ▽ enemies -- open
  ▽ lover -- open

[sucre'd fiend]

(view spoiler)[
created by fiend; inspired by jenn, shah, and chrys
(hide spoiler)]


━━━─ · · 「 K Y L I N E A J A X C A V I S T I N 」 · · ─━━━━
female × twenty-one × jan. xi × single ( bisexual ) × sothern rebel
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eiza gonzales × chocolate brown × mud brown × five eleven × one sixty

p e r s o n a l i t y ⇢ ain't no god on these streets

[ k ] ye is, in a word, dangerous. Not just in the sense that she could rip your throat out, but in the sense that she knows how to get people behind a cause. She, despite not being a position of leadership, knows of ways to manipulate people into following a certain movement. This movement, for instance, would be the rebellion of the southern front. She's rallied quite a lot of people, be it through threats or promises. She could be the face of something, but she prefers her place in the shadows for now.

Intensity is something that is clear about her. An intense desire to succeed, an intense need to do bodily harm to another person. She's passion wrapped in flesh, and to be honest, that scares some people. But, it also inspires. It excites, it drives. This passion, of course, has been directed to her leader. There is no romantic feeling; just a strong sense of kinship, of rightness to it that she won't, doesn't care to deny. She sees much in her leader, and even if she isn't the second in command, she will always follow him.

If there is one thing that Kye knows, it is that she does have a problem. That she has an issue with keeping her temper in check. That she takes somethings too seriously. Kye has been like this all her life, and at this point, she doesn't see any merit in changing that part of herself. It has helped in some instances, her short fuse. She doesn't lose faith or conviction, simply her grasp on control and it gets her blood pumping. It fills her with an energy that she tries to cling to. An added ferociousness to cover any of the remaining shards of a feeble minded young woman.

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[ fixations ] the cause, tales, her leader
[ abhorrences ] everything that doesn't follow her beliefs
[ specialties ] rallying people
[ kryptonite ] her conviction
[ interests ] seeing the fall of the royal family
[ weaponry ] two daggers, a bow staff, dual pistols

r e c o l l e c t i o n s ⇢ won't you, follow me into the jungle

[ t ] he entire existence of Kyline Cavinstin is loosely considered a lie. A lie in the sense that a girl had been born among the trees. What had really happened is that unruly parents had died in a raging fire of passion at the sight of their daughter, and had chosen to give up the life they'd once had. They chose to be better people, a couple known as Marge and Ninny Cavinstin. They wanted to have the best for their child as she grew. But they didn't want her corrupted by the world as she had been.

Then again, they were the simple and lowly station of caste eight, not fit to be considered anything other than a wreck. They couldn't do much better than cease their childish antics, and attempt to raise a child together. This didn't last past five years, in which they left a defenseless girl in the woods to pick up a trail of molding breadcrumbs. It wasn't that they didn't care; it was that they couldn't. The need to be better was too heavy a burden, and they ran from it just as they had run from much of what was a a burden in life.

Kye wasn't taken in by wolves, or by feral beasts. She wasn't left to fend for herself. No, she was taken in by simple people of caste seven. A step up from her original caste of birth, but better than nothing, one could say. They treated her well, with love and respected, and she flourished dangerously under their watchful eyes.

They were hunters, and thus she was a huntress by the time she began to surpass their heights. By the time she was sixteen, her true calling came from the trees. Howling at her, beckoning her closer. She followed the call, and never looked back. The capability of loving her family didn't leave her; they understood. They knew what it was that she felt in those trees, what she heard on the wind. They accepted this, and set her free; because that's what you do with things you love, right? You let them go for their best chances, for their true happiness?

Kye's happiness, however, was not in skinning animals and roasting meat. It was in rebellion. It was in the sight of fear in the eyes of those who opposed the view of the rebellion. The sight of blood running like rivers and screams echoing off walls. It was in the silence that was left, and the roaring fires that would fill it soon after. It was in the peaceful thought of watching someone's life flash before their eyes, their regrets, their wishes, their dreams. That was where her happines dwelt, and she pursued it to no end.

Which was what lead her to the rebellion. She had no qualms with allowing people to live; it was with those that thought themselves better. Who were they to think such things when the cause they sought was so noble, so right?

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[ biological ]
  ▽ mother -- marge cavinstin
  ▽ father -- ninny cavinstin
  ▽ foster mother -- alba
  ▽ foster father -- kieran
[ external ]
  ▽ allies -- the Southern Rebels
  ▽ leader -- Damon ( elle )
  ▽ friends -- open
  ▽ enemies -- Northern Rebellion, The Royal Family

[sucre'd fiend]

(view spoiler)[
created by fiend; inspired by jenn, shah, and chrys
(hide spoiler)]


━━━━─ · · 「 J O S I A H K I E R A N B A B I N A U X 」 · · ─━━━
male × twenty-one × dec. xi × single ( pansexual ) × free rebel
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henry cavill × frigid blue × deep black × six seven × two ten

p e r s o n a l i t y ⇢ I'll worship like a dog

[ a ] s luck would have it, Josiah is the right amount of bitter to fit in with the northern rebels, and violent enough to join the southern rebels. But that isn't what he has in mind. He wants no glory; just to see what makes him harbor such bitterness and hatred for the country of Illea as a whole to tumble. But, he doesn't think he can follow any of the rebellions. They don't fit his true intentions, his ulterior motives. Blatantly selfish, but what can he do; he's a selfish person with his interests laid in accordance to what he wants. But, most don;t see anything past him being bitter and angry at most everyone, because it's true: he will always be angry until he gets to the person he's been looking for.

Jos has his moments of deep thought, which is pretty much not when he's blowing up at someone, and they show. If he were a more peaceful person, you'd say he was pensive. But, he's calculating, always thinking ahead. He wants things to work out as best they can, or not at all. You don't go into anything without a plan, is what he thinks. That's just asking for someone to stab you in the back, both literally and figuratively. He's not one to sweat all the minor details, but he does have a tendency to focus on the big picture. A means to an end kind of guy; meaning, he won't be afraid to step on all those who might try to stop him or get in his way. That's why he could fit in with either rebellion, but chooses not to. He thinks they're a hindrance, being tethered down to a camp and having to follow the dull orders of someone that doesn't really have the same thing in mind as him.

There is much to say about Jos, but he surprisingly doesn't say much. It isn't because he's shy or feels that he doesn't have anything to say. No, it's a personal thing. He's learned not to talk because he knows that the things he says are vital. If he doesn't speak to you, you clearly aren't worth imparting any sort of wisdom. His words are laced with intelligence, and coated with venom. If he really wanted to, you'd be crying, or on the brink of ending your life. He's not, pointedly, a kind person with his words.

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[ fixations ] his mother, his brother, cold tea, hot baths
[ abhorrences ] people, unnecessary speech
[ specialties ] choosing his words
[ kryptonite ] not being bitter and angry
[ interests ] finding his mother and brother
[ weapons ] pistols and knives

r e c o l l e c t i o n s ⇢ this is hungry work

[ m ] uch of what has happened in Josiah's life has started before his birth. Back to when Lisa met Aaron, and Aaron met Hanna. Hanna, of course, being the comely mistress of Aaron simply because she was beautiful and naive and thought she was loved. But she wasn't. She was, simply put, a distraction. Aaron and Lisa had an agreement: Aaron could play, but he had to always return to Lisa. That was it. Short and sweet. There was nothing extra to add on to it, and Hanna fell victim to it all. She was spurned away from the man she thought had loved her, and subsequently fell to pieces.

But, perhaps the most unfortunate thing of this all was that she was pregnant, with twins. Not one child, but two born of a supposed love. To say that she was bitter and upset with herself and the children growing inside of her was an understatement. Many times in the early days did she consider ridding herself of the children before they'd even been born. She'd walk up to the doors of a clinic, a witch doctor, a herbalist. She'd anticipate the freedom of leaving behind the vestiges of a man who'd broken her heart and she'd crumble all over because she'd loved him so much. She'd back away, and promise to have a stronger resolve next time. And then the next time. And the next, until it was too late for her to give up the children, to forcibly remove them from her body.

When Hanna had the twins, after months of contemplating what she'd do, she decided to keep them. What else would be the right thing to do for them? It wasn't as though she were rolling in an endless amount of wealth, but she had been given a job shortly before her having given birth. She would be able to care for her children and raise them as best she could as a woman of caste six. But, there was the tricky business of not being married. So, to remedy this, before the twins had been born, she had found herself someone to attach her name to. This man, stupid and slow, loved too purely for her to fully accept, but accept she must. She found that she didn't have much of choice, and as the guilt whittled away at her, his love kept her intact.

Which was why she never told the twins who their real father was. Why spoil it all with the truth, when she could have them live out their lives in blissful ignorance? It was when they turned thirteen, Josiah and Joshua, that they met their biological father. It wasn't by chance; no, Aaron had been watching Hanna closely. He had favored quite a good deal, but had also been informed of her pregnancy. The woman in question had never told him, an attempt to cut him out of her life and the lives of their unborn children. But, that didn't work. Lisa and Aaron arrived at the house just as the boys were coming to school, curiosity gleaming in their eyes at the sight of the incredibly black vehicle that pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, and they could stare in and see who it was sitting inside the great thing.

Hanna came out just in time, Lisa stepping out of the car first. Her smile was smug, her gaze lethal. It was like she was trying to have a victory lap, without the actual lap. But, it all disappeared when she laid eyes on the twins. They had come to confirm the suspicions, thirteen years late. Hanna still held that ethereal beauty, dimmed slightly by the years gone past. Shock registered on all faces, except those of the twins. How were they to know what was going on?

Hanna ushered the boys inside, sent them on their way to their room. But, she forgot about the window and thin walls. The two boys could hear every word exchanged, including the ones that declared Aaron as their father, and thus the one who should have been taking care of them. This was the moment that decided their fate, split the two from a working organism in two parts to two entirely different people. Their mother refused, and things became violent and more abusive than they'd started.

By the end of it, the twins were being dragged from their room by men in black suits. Aaron looked on with a smug look, and a hysteric Hanna restrained at his side. There was little that could be done to save either of them, even as their adopted father barreled his way through armed men, only to find himself in a puddle of blood and broken bones. That was the last that Josiah and Joshua saw of their parents.

Joshua grew accustomed to their situation faster than Josiah did. The two had disagreements on this matter, as well. Josiah wanted to go back, go home, but Joshua didn't think it was smart. They'd already seen several shows of power from Aaron, and heard the whisper of party guests equating his power to that rivaling the royal family. But, Josiah was adamant. He still had the image of their mother and father as they had last seen them, battered and defeated. That wasn't how he wanted to remember them; he didn't want to remember them--he wanted to be with them.

And this was what fueled every argument and confrontation, what drove the two apart. Until, finally, Jos had enough. He was eighteen and ready to leave behind what was holding him back. Aaron had been very watchful of the two twins, and was determined to dissuade Josiah from his plan, but that clearly didn't work. Without so much as a look back at his twin, Josiah disappeared in the middle of the night with the intent of finding his parents.

He went back to the old home they had previously been in, the last place he'd seen them. What he found instead was a vacant lot, a place torn down and ready for new use. Neighbors couldn't--or wouldn't--give him straight answers and he was left with nothing to do, really. So, he decided that he'd find a way to meet with them once again.

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[ biological ]
  ▽ mother -- Hanna Babinaux ( nee Carter )
  ▽ father -- Elias Babinaux
  ▽ father -- Aaron Malach
  ▽ brother -- Joshua Babinaux
[ external ]
  ▽ allies -- whoever can provide him with information
  ▽ friends -- open
  ▽ enemies -- open
  ▽ lover -- open

[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

Approved!

[ᵉˡˡᵃ]

(view spoiler)[Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ﹐ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀʟᴀᴅs﹐ ɪs ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ ᴀɴᴅ Zᴇʟᴅᴀ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇʟʟᴀ. Aʟʟ I ᴀsᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀsᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ﹐ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. Tʜᴀɴᴋs ᴛᴏ Lᴇᴇɴᴀ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. (hide spoiler)]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ Ⅰ



“I ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇ I ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡᴇʟʟ ﹣ ʙᴜᴛ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ sᴍᴇʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴅᴀᴍᴘ ɢʀᴀss ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢʀᴏᴡs ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴏʟᴅ ᴡᴀʟʟs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ ᴏᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʟᴇᴇᴠᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ɪs ᴀ ᴍᴏssʏ sʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ ᴊᴜsᴛ ғɪᴛs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ.” {Zᴇʟᴅᴀ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}

∘ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ∘ Kiera Walker
∘ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ∘ In Irish the meaning of the name Kiera is: Feminine of the Irish Gaelic Kieran. Dusky; dark-haired.
∘ ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ﹙s﹚ ∘ None

“A ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ sᴜᴄᴄᴇss ɪs ᴀ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏs ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴀʀᴅs ᴀs ᴄᴀʀᴇғᴜʟʟʏ ᴀs ɪғ sʜᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴘʟᴀɪɴ.” {F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}



∘ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ∘ India Eisley


(view spoiler)[



(hide spoiler)]

Kiera is on the shorter side, not that she minds at all. Her skin is a creamy white, with small shoulders and a lean frame.
Kiera's eyes are a bright and stunning blue, the kind that can only be described in works of fiction. Her irises contain shoots of paler shades and bright whites.
Kiera's hair is a dark brown that borders on the edge of black. It's naturally wavy, and she keeps it up often, since she works with a fair amount of blood.

∘ ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ ∘ 5'4
∘ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ∘ 110 lbs
∘ sᴛʏʟᴇ ∘ Being a rebel, Kiera doesn't have access to beautful dress shops and things. She wears mostly old dresses with flower patterns and soft colors, but she sown times wears tight pants and as comfortable shirt, depending on how she's feeling that day.

“Aʟʟ I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪs ᴠᴇʀʏ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɪʀʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsɪʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ ɪs ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ﹣ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ” {Zᴇʟᴅᴀ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}



∘ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ∘ Female
∘ ᴀɢᴇ ∘ 20
∘ sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ∘ Heterosexual

∘ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ∘ July 15th
∘ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ∘ 3:22 AM
∘ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ∘ Northern Rebel Ship

“I ғᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ﹐ ʜᴇʀ sɪɴᴄᴇʀɪᴛʏ﹐ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ғʟᴀᴍɪɴɢ sᴇʟғ ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ. Aɴᴅ ɪᴛ·s ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs I·ᴅ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪɴ﹐ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴡɪʟᴅ sᴜsᴘɪᴄɪᴏɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀsɴ·ᴛ ᴀʟʟ sʜᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ. I ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.” {F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}



»ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴛʀɪᴀᴛs«
⑅ Stubborn
⑅ Introverted
⑅ Gentle
⑅ Caring
⑅ Head strong

Kier isn't the type of woman to back down. She's faced countless challenges in her lifetime, and has fought her way to being who she wants to be. She isn't ashamed of being more of a quite person, she quite likes how she is. But when she does open up to someone, it's with all of her heart and she doesn't let them go. She doesn't have many constant people in her life, but those that she does have are very good people with very good hearts. Being a healer, she has very strong sense of empathy and sympathy, and as a result can be a tiny bit too sensitive. But she'll never show it. Kiera is very good at burying her feelings far down in her soul, and keeping up shields that will make sure people can't hurt her. As much as she may seem gruff, she does care about people, or she wouldn't be in the line of work that she so much loves. She has an admiration for human life and the wonders of the human body, and appreciates the fact that she's been given the gift of medicine in her life. Kiera had lost a lot, but she has managed to stay strong through it all, even if she's felt broken, she always gets back up again, whether she has help to not.

»ᴀᴅᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs«
⑅ Healing
⑅ Books
⑅ Solitude
⑅ The woods
⑅ Kind people
⑅ Plants

»ᴀᴠᴇʀsɪᴏɴs«
⑅ Illean guards
⑅ The Royals
⑅ Southern Rebels
⑅ Ignorance
⑅ Violence

»ᴀᴘᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ«
⑅ Healing

»ᴅᴇғɪᴄɪᴇɴᴄɪᴇs«
⑅ Violence

»ᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀs ﹠ ғᴇᴀʀs«
⑅ Fear of death
⑅ Fear of losing people



“Nᴏ ᴀᴍᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴏғ ғɪʀᴇ, ᴏʀ ғʀᴇsʜɴᴇss, ᴄᴀɴ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴛᴏʀᴇ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ʜɪs ɢʜᴏsᴛʟʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.” {F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}

[ᵉˡˡᵃ]

(view spoiler)[Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ﹐ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀʟᴀᴅs﹐ ɪs ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ ᴀɴᴅ Zᴇʟᴅᴀ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇʟʟᴀ. Aʟʟ I ᴀsᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀsᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ﹐ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. Tʜᴀɴᴋs ᴛᴏ Lᴇᴇɴᴀ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. (hide spoiler)]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ Ⅱ




“Wʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪᴢɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ᴏɴᴇ...ᴊᴜsᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ·ᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴛᴀɢᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ·ᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ.” {F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ

Not all children are born into the same situation. Many are; the gushing mother, proud father, smiling nurses. Some may even have a home waiting for them, with a crib and some toys to spend their days playing with and running about. But for some children it's different. For some the mother is sobbing, the father frustrated and pacing just beyond the door, the "nurse" looking worried and antsy as she tried to read the mothers reaction. For some like Kiera Walker, it was not a home but a tent or a cabin waiting for her, a spot on the bed between her parents, so she wouldn't fall off, and nothing but the sway of the sea to keep her company. There were other children of course, and her old Aunt Marjorie, but life was fairly lonely for young Kiera. Her parents hadn't had an easy time having a child. Her mother, Natalie, had a terribly hard time getting pregnant and her husband, Eli, was only frustrated by that fact. And when she finally did become pregnant, it was a celebration, until, that is, Kiera was born, and they realized that she wasn't the little boy they'd wished for, but a girl instead. Natalie and Eli were rebels, born into the profession, that allied themselves with the northern encampment. They were sometimes on the move, packing up their things into their large ship and setting sail to another place along the great bodies of water that they traveled on. But in between sailing, the northern rebels would settle their ship and drop anchor, and ever man, woman and child would stay on a secluded part of the shore. They would hide there from the general population of Illea, something that Kiera learned to do at a very young age, and gather their supplies; things like herbs and meat and things, until they were ready to set shore again. It wasn't just a nomadic life though, it was a life with a purpose. Kiera was told the stories very young, of how Gregory Illea took the nation of the United States and turned it into something much less United, something much less free. She was told about the caste system that some people lived in, where their family decided their job, their pay, and their whole future. They told her about people starving under the eyes of the King and Queen, and how ignorant the royals were. They just needed someone to change their mind, that was all. Just someone to show them how badly their citizens had it. That's what her parents told her.

But they still needed soldiers, and as Kiera grew, it became quite obvious that she wasn't one. She was a rather quiet child, that only caused a ruckus when she absolutely needed something. She liked to read small children's books or play with the previous teddy bear her Aunt Marjorie had given her when she was just two years old. Kiera would toddle around and pick flowers to bring to her mother and father, who were skilled soldiers that wanted nothing more than for their daughter to flourish in their society. But every time she brought them a flower, that hope dissolved just a little bit more. They didn't understand their child, only her Aunt Marjorie did. She was an older woman, with mousy brown hair but a bright smile that could calm Kiera down at any time. Marjorie was the medicine woman of the camp, just a glorified doctor or nurse, and she understood that Kiera wasn't a warrior. She was something else, or she was nothing at all. But her parents didn't see that, and forced her to go with the other little children to one of the training sessions that a solider ran. It wasn't a huge deal, just some wooden swords and a short introduction on how to use them. Kiera listened to the instructions and watched the men duel; they did that all the time, and she didn't like watching, but her mother was behind her, holding onto her shoulders so she couldn't leave. The trouble came when they paired her up with a partner. Another young girl her age with blonde hair and brown eyes. Kiera's opponent seemed ready to fight and in her stance, eyeing Kiera with a childish smile. Kiera's mother tugged away her stuffed bear and gave her a sword instead, but the object felt foreign in Kiera's hand, and when she looked around with her blue doe eyes, she was shocked at what the other children were doing with them. They were bonking each other on the head and poking each other's sides; hurting each other with the dumb things. Kiera looked back at her opponent with her silly grin and realized that she didn't want to hurt her, and she started to cry. All of the other kids looked at her strangely, why did one of their playmates not want to play? It was just a game, but Kiera couldn't stomach the fact that they were hurting each other, and she dropped her sword, took her teddy bear back, and ran to her Aunties tent to see her. Marjorie was busy at the time with some wounded men, and so she couldn't let Kiera sit on her lap and calm her like she usually did, but she said that Kiera could follow her and watch what she was up to, and so Kiera did. She followed her aunt to the medicine tent, and let out a tiny gasp at the sight of the man her aunt was treating. He had been walking in the woods, apparently, and had come into contact with a southern rebel who'd shot him in the chest. The blood scared Kiera some, but her aunt quickly explained that blood wasn't bad, that it was life; life that had just leaked from a person. So Kiera's first thought was to push it back in and call it a day. Her aunt said it wasn't so simple, though, and she let Kiera watch as she took the bullet from the mans chest and stitched his wound, while Kiera held his hand. She told that man that it was okay and he could cry if he needed to, and squeezed his hand as tight as she could when it looked like he was in pain. She was fascinated by the mechanics of it. The life, well, the blood, could be stopped from escaping my placing real stitches on the skin, and the soldier said the stitches barely hurt. And she used so many herbs and things on the cut, even whiskey. Marjorie thought she might be afraid, but Kiera only had one question Can I see more?.

From that day on, Kiera's life became simpler in many ways. Her mother and father stopped trying to forget her into being a soldier, since Marjorie had talked to them, and said that little Kiera had a great spark in her for healing, and that it was a valuable skill, but the couple barely cared. They were already trying for another baby, since Kiera seemed to be such a terrible disappointment. They left her alone for the most part, and really, too much. Kiera put herself to bed at a reasonable hour and woke up with the sun every morning. She dressed herself and learned how to make her own breakfast, it was easy enough, after watching Eli do it for years. She was self-sufficient, which wasn't normal for her age, but she didn't care, she liked who she was. After breakfast she would walk her way over to Marjorie's tent. But almost everyday, like clockwork, the other children at the camp would follow after her, calling her names like crybaby and freak, just to make her feel bad. One time, a little brat even pushed Kiera over, and her knee scraped against a rock. The scrape was nothing, really, but it stung her skin and she felt like letting the hot tears escape her eyes until a boy came over to help her up. His name was Gabriel, and he was just her age, and training to be one of the soldiers. He called the other kids jerks and helped Kiera over to the healers tent, and made sure she got inside safely, before disappearing without a goodbye. Tiny Kiera thought he was strange, but she quite liked strange, and instead concentrated on watching her aunt heal, and helping to fetch the things that she needed whenever the time came. Many of the things the two ladies dealt with over their time together were minor; like bruises and beaches, or cuts, small gashes to the head or chest. They were easily healed, as Kiera soon learned, using the herbs that her aunt had on stock in the tent. Things like a few stitches, whiskey, salts or even herbs and flowers would heal their patients in no time, and there was a lot of down time when work was slow, so Kiera read. Her aunt had books that were written just for people like them, and Kiera would sit up on one of the cots in their tent and crack their spines to spend mostly the whole day reading about different cures and diseases, each more interesting than the next. She learned about the anatomy of the body, how the brain worked, and even why people didn't like the taste of bitter things as much as they liked sweet things; it was all just fantastic. She would even bring the books home with her at night, and sit up in the tent with a flashlight or a candle by her, just reading the words that someone had written just for her. But there were horrible days too, and as Kiera grew older, she saw more and more of them. Some of their soldiers were attacked by the southern rebels, which Kiera knew to be a bloodthirsty group, but others were killed or harmed during raids. Those confused her the most. Yes, her people broke into and entered the palace without permission, and the meant to steal, but they didn't harm anyone. They disarmed guards and left them tied on the floor, they never killed or really even injured the Illean guards. But if those guards had a chance, they would shoot or slash at her people in the blink of any eye, and it sickened Kiera to see what happened to the poor men. But she only saw the ones that were well enough to leave the castle, many of her men died in that building, for nothing more than goddamned books. Kiera tended to the ones with bullet wounds, those were fairly simple and quick to heal. Or she took the ones that were slashed at by swords, and she became covered in blood as she struggled to find the sources of bleeding, just so she could stitch the poor men in five places before giving them a drink that would allow them to sleep without pain for the night. By the end of a raid night, sweet little Kiera would be covered in blood, and she would go out to the river to wash before just falling asleep on a tarp in the medics tent, just in case one of the men needed something for the pain during the night. Marjorie admired her spirit, and knew that she'd raised a fine apprentice, who easily had skills that matched her own.

[ᵉˡˡᵃ]

(view spoiler)[Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ﹐ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀʟᴀᴅs﹐ ɪs ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ ᴀɴᴅ Zᴇʟᴅᴀ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇʟʟᴀ. Aʟʟ I ᴀsᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀsᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ﹐ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. Tʜᴀɴᴋs ᴛᴏ Lᴇᴇɴᴀ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. (hide spoiler)]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ⅡI




Kiera was a strong young woman by that point, yet she still barely socialized with others her age. Being a teenager, she didn't know how to rightly break into their groups, since she was nothing like them. But there was always Gabriel, and he was always kind to her. He said good morning and asked her how she was doing every time she passed, and even made up silly reasons to come to the medics tent to see her. My heart was hurting without you Kiera, Do you have a bandage? 'Cause I just scraped my knee falling for you, Kiera, I think you're suffering from a lack of vitamin ME. The pick up lines, awful as they were, always made Kiera laugh, and brought a smile to both of their faces. And she would simply shoo him along, or make him fetch her something, or tell him that she had to take time for her real patients, but it was obvious that she wasn't actually bothered by Gabriel. He had been sweet to her since she was just a kid, he had a terribly nerdy sense of humor, just like her, and even had looks to die for, with his tan skin and dark eyes. And every time she shooed him away, there was a look in her eyes that told him to come back later and say hello again. Gabriel often brought her lunch when he noticed that she rarely ate otherwise, and would stand in front of her herb rack, making sure she couldn't get anything done until she agreed to eat it. He was trying to look out for her, to make sure she was being taken care of, and Kiera accepted with a grumpy expression, sitting down and gobbling whatever food he had brought for her so she could go back to her work faster. And as the days progressed, Kiera grew used to his presence, and didn't even mind if he sat in the tent during her downtime and chatted with her. They would sit in chairs and Kiera would lay her legs across his lap as she read from one of the large books, and he would talk to her about his day, things that he needed to do, whatever he wanted. Kiera would just listen, and give her opinion on everything, since she considered him her best friend. Sure he used crappy pink up lines, but those were just jokes, she was sure he didn't really mean those things. Usually every other day, Kiera went into the woods to looks for the herbs and flowers she and Marjorie used on the patients. All she took with her was a small satchel with labeled vials inside of it, so she could gather the things she needed...and Gabriel. He insisted on coming with her, to make sure that no harm came to her when she was in the woods. He said there were bears and fisher cats, and southern rebels that could sneak up on her and attack, and since Kiera didn't know how to use a gun, she couldn't very well argue with him. She didn't think she needed to know such things; she was just a healer and she would stay that way until the day she died. While Gabriel could respect that, he wouldn't let her out of his sight on those days when they ventured into woods and through meadows together. As they went, she would teach him what each thing that she gathered was for. Calendula was to be made in to an oil, for burns and injured skin, nasturtium was an antibiotic, Angelica for colds, and Blood Root for lowering fevers. Her list went on, so Kiera and Gabriel spent many days wandering through the woods together.

There came a day, though, when the leader of the soldiers had an idea. If they brought a healer with them on their raids, to heal during the battle instead of after the fact, they may have less deaths. Kiera's aunt Marjorie was getting to be too old by that point, though, and Kiera was easily the most skilled healer of the younger group, so she volunteered to be the one to go. It would be a little more scary than working out of her tent, and she knew that. But if she was able to be in the thick of it all with the men, she could save more of them, and help the ones that she couldn't save. Kiera had always wondered what it was like for those men, to die somewhere that you didn't recognize, to die alone while your fellow soldiers tried to complete their mission. But it didn't have to be that way, she knew she could change lives for the better if she went. Her aunt said no, that it was too dangerous, and that she would get hurt. Gabriel agreed, and tried to convince Kiera to let one of the other healers go, but Kiera wasn't one to be convinced of anything. She had her mind set on doing more, so she was going to, with or without their support. Kiera never understood Gabriel's reasoning; he was a soldier, and went on every raid with the others, but she was never allowed to complain, only to worry, so why was her mission any different? And as the walked through the trees on the day of Kiera's first raid, Gabriel walked right beside her I'm not leaving your side, you understand? You can't leave my sight in there, the Illean guards are as bloodthirsty as southerners he had said, his hand on her back as she walked behind the rest of the group. Kiera only grew more frustrated at being treated like a child, and just about blew her top at Gabriel, swearing that she was a grown woman and could do as she pleased. But then he was stopping in the middle of the trail and cradling her head, he was kissing her, for the first time, and as confused as Kiera was, she welcomed it, and kissed him back. But it was a short kiss, and he only pulled away to tell her that when you love a girl, you can't let her go into danger without you. Needless to say, Kiera was speechless the rest of the walk to the palace, letting her mind mull over what was happening, and what she was prepared for; both with Gabriel and the raid. At that moment, she was more focused on the raid, much to Gabriel's dismay. Once they crossed into the walls of the castle, it was complete chaos. Screams filled the air from ridiculous maids and women trying to run to their safe rooms, but Kiera didn't quite understand that; did these people not understand that they only wanted peace, they were Northerners, not the Southerners that wanted to slaughter people. But bullets were already whizzing through the air, and her men were already wounded. Gabriel stayed close to her side, his fingers brushing against hers softly. Kiera went to all the men that she could, removing bullets and adding stitches and antibiotic. It was fast work for her, but she couldn't do anything for their pain without also putting them to sleep, so she had to leave many men alive, but still screaming in pain, on the floor as she moved on to the next one. Some of them she couldn't heal, though, and those were always hard. Some had too many bullet holes, or had already lost too much blood. And Kiera knew how to deal with them, too. She knew that the only thing they she could do to help them was talk; so that's what she did. She would ask them about where they grew up, or their families, and the men would tell her. They would talk for just a couple of minutes, however long it took, and then they were gone, the life out of their eyes, their blood on the floor. And as much as it hurt her to, Kiera had to move on. Because there were other lives to save, other lives to help pass on.

After her very first raid, Kiera was exhausted. She went back home and rested on her cot in the medics tent; which was her home by then, and Gabriel laid on the cot beside her. She asked him questions, about how he felt about her, and why he hadn't mentioned any of it until just then. And he answered, asking her questions in return. Did she love him back? Did she think of him as more than a friend? And as Kiera looked across the way at Gabriel, she realized that she did. He had always been there for her, always helping and Keeping her safe and happy, how could she ever love anyone else? And from that point On, they were even more inseparable than normal. They held hands and walked together through the camp, went on longer adventures into the woods; giving them time to kiss and be silly without the watch of the other rebels. A few nights they even laid on the deck of the ship and stared up at he stars, just taking comfort in the sound of one another's voice as they talked about everything; everything and nothing at all. The only time they were ever apart was when Gabriel had to go to train with the other men, since he still was a soldier, and when he was gone, Kiera found herself missing him. She would talk to herself as if he were there, and even fumble over her words and ask absolutely no one to grab her a certain flower or concoction; forgetting again that Gabriel did have a life of his own. It was all terribly silly to her, how attached shed become to him. Without the touch of his hand on her cheek every day she felt like there was a hole in her, and if she didn't hear his voice before the sun came up the day just didn't feel real. It was a lot for Kiera to handle, especially with how little shed depended on people her whole life. But she came to the conclusion that everyone needed someone, and she needed Gabriel. And if he was the only person she ever had by her side, then she would be okay. Because he was perfect, and he was enough. When they went on raids together, they both became more and more efficient at their work. Kiera even taught Gabriel how to comfort the men that couldn't be helped, she told him how to hold their hand and make them concentrate on something besides the pain, and Gabriel didn't argue; because if he was helping the practically dead, Kiera could be healing more; pulling things from her satchel and patching up soldiers the best that she could. There were times when the death was too much for her. There were so many that she couldn't save, and it was a hard burden to carry. Often Kiera would replay the raids in her mind, wondering what she might've done to save just one more life, to heal just one more man. But Gabriel insisted that she'd already done enough, and he would hold her when she needed to cry. As much as she tried not to, seeing that much death in a day made Kiera feel awfully blubbery, and she would unload buckets of tears on Gabriel's shoulder, his arms wrapped around her and his voice whispering sweet nothings into her ear. After just months, her aunt Marjorie had accepted Gabriel as family, and everyone in the camp knew it was just a matter of time before the two made it official; they were happy together, and cared so much for each other, how could they ever end up with anyone else? Then came a night when they were laying under the stars, just the two of them. Kiera was muttering on about the country, and how they needed to make progress, needed to do something more to get the crown to listen. But Gabriel laid a kiss on her lips to shut her up, before pulling something small out of his pocket. It was a ring, skinny and forged from gold, with delicate, tiny pearls embedded around the whole band. It was simple and beautiful, but Kiera just assumed it was a present, and she admired it, told him how much she loved it. Oh don't be so thick, love, I want you to marry me... was all that Gabriel had to say, and Kiera sat in shocked silence for a moment, but promptly burst into tears, nodding to him and letting him slip the ring onto her pale finger. That's it, shed muttered to him under the light of the moon I'm the luckiest girl in this whole damn universe.

[ᵉˡˡᵃ]

(view spoiler)[Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ﹐ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀʟᴀᴅs﹐ ɪs ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ ᴀɴᴅ Zᴇʟᴅᴀ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇʟʟᴀ. Aʟʟ I ᴀsᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀsᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ﹐ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɪᴛ’s ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. Tʜᴀɴᴋs ᴛᴏ Lᴇᴇɴᴀ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. (hide spoiler)]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ IV




Being engaged was strange for Kiera, since it was one of the first normal things shed done in her life. The young women around her started to approach her more, seeing that she wasn't all crazy; if she was marrying a kind man like Gabriel. She even made a friend or two as they tried to help her prepare for a wedding ceremony. Kiera didn't want anything big, though. She just wanted to be married in the forest, with her aunt and maybe a few other present, but the other girls just wouldn't let that be. They were talking about gowns she could borrow from the other rebels, how she would do her hair and her makeup, and what she wanted to say in her vows. But Kiera had no clue, she just wanted to marry the love of her life, she didn't care for all the frilly things the girls were discussing. But Gabriel seemed to find it amusing when she was forced into different hairstyles by the other girls, and liked to see her pink cheeks when she got frustrated over being treated like a doll. And so for him, she bared the torture, and let the girls plan basically everything. She focused on work instead, improving the ways she treated the wounded. She became faster, created more useful concoctions, and worked harder than ever. She was inspired by her work during the raids. saving as many lives as possible was the goal, and she wouldn't stop working until their body count was zero. Gabriel tried to get her to stop with all the working, but even he knew it wasn't any use. His finace was determined, and so nothing could stop her. There was only one more raid before their wedding day, and Kiera was increasingly nervous. It was the whole marriage thing. She knew she didn't want to turn out like her parents, but she also knew that Gabriel was her one and only. She wasn't shy with her fears, and voiced them easily to Gabriel. He just laughed them off and have her a hug, though, telling her that they would just be doing the same as always, but with a tent to themselves. He would wiggle his eyebrows and Kiera would shove him off with a giggle, and that was that. He could calm her nerves in just moments, and during the raid, everything seemed to be going as usual. Kiera rushed from fallen to fallen, doing her best to save them all, and Gabriel consulted with the men she couldn't save, showing them kindness in their final moments. They were in a clear part of the castle, the Illean guards had followed their soldiers up to the next level, and Kiera nor Gabriel had no idea that one still remained. She was placing stitches into a mans arm, making sure he wouldn't bleed to death, when she heard metal slicing flesh, and a hard thing drop to the floor. Fear rose in her chest and Kiera turned, only to see a guard running towards the stairs, and Gabriel on the ground, bleeding from his chest. The noise Kiera made was inhuman, and she rushed to him immediately, trying to stitch him quickly, but she couldn't go fast enough. The blood was gushing from his wound, and in just seconds, Kiera's hands were covered in a combination of blood and tears. She was crying as she went, telling Gabriel that he couldn't leave her, not then, and moving as fast as she could to save him. If it had been any other man, Kiera would've accepted it; the gash was too deep, there was nothing she could do. But it was Gabriel, and she couldn't leave him, she couldn't give up. Blood was looking around her knees as she knelt beside him when he grabbed onto her hands, holding them tightly and looking up into her eyes, the light slowly fading from his own. I have a family, you know, he started to tell her, using the last bits of his strength to stop her from trying to stitch him up; instead, he was consoling her, as they did to the young men that were too far gone. She has black hair and eyes that are such a bright blue, christ, I don't even know how it's possible to be that beautiful. She's so smart, and kind, and every time I close my eyes, I see her, looking up at me like I'm the special one. She's amazing, and guess what? Kiera had only shaken her head, tears streaming from her eyes as she tried to stop him, it wasn't fair, he didn't deserve to leave so soon. I'm gonna marry her, and we're going to have dozens of kids. And I'll, I'll let her name them after..flowers, or plants or whatever she wants. Kiera tugged her hands out of his grip, and pulled his head into her lap. She let her fingers run through his curly hair, her tears falling silently onto his cheeks. I'lol love her till the day I die... He muttered, keeping his eyes locked with hers. His hand had reached up to stroke her cheek; but it slowly fell down to her lap, and his breathing started to become more and more shallow. The worst part was his eyes. They lost their light, their fire. They turned glassy and lifeless. Kiera can't remember the rest of that raid. She can't remember the soldiers finding her there still, cradling Gabriel's head in her lap and sobbing over his body. She doesn't remember how they had to drag her away from him, or how the blood dropped from her skirts by the time she finally convinced them to bring his body with them; she had refused to leave without it. She doesn't remember collapsing in his tent, against his sheets and his pillows, breathing in his scent like he was still there beside her.

But Gabriel's scent faded soon, and Kiera mourned in her own way. She didn't talk to the others around her for a long time; all she did was work. She didn't even talk to her patients. She was a ghost of the girl she used to be; slowly crawling through the motions of her life like it didn't matter anymore. He was all shed ever needed, and he was gone, taken from her because some guard of Illea decided that he was as threat, when he was nothing but a kind man. Kiera felt robbed and broken, and spent much of her time running her fingers along the ring that he'd given her, which shed fasten onto a gold chain, and kept around her neck day and night. The other girls tried to speak with her, but they didn't get very far. It wasn't any use, Kiera didn't want to talk. All she wanted was to get Gabriel back. The worst of it was the soldiers. They acted as if he was just another casualty, like he hadn't mattered at all. He was just a number to them, but he had been her whole world. They gave their sympathies for all of two minutes, before asking her to select a new soldier to guard her during the raids. Kiera never picked one, so they assigned her a random boy with pale skin and blue eyes; the exact opposite of her Gabriel. Working with him was strange, and he had no idea how to help Kiera in the field, but she barely cared enough to learn his name, so it didn't bother her. Kiera stopped helping along the men who were going to die. She tried to, on the first raid after his death, but all she could think of was his words, his last words that were always whispering like ghosts in the back of her mind. She focused on those who could be saved, and the rest died in pain, with no one to help them but themselves. Kiera didn't want her guard to accompany her to the woods; she wanted to be alone sometimes, in a place where she and Gabriel had once treasured. But Marjorie wouldn't let her go without a weapon, so Kiera made room for a revolver in her satchel. She's never used it, but having it on her person is enough to calm her aunt. A year has passed since Gabriel's death, and Kiera still has a tear in her heart that will never mend, but she has slowly become more or herself again. She reads her books and cared for her patients, but there's something missing that's obvious when she speaks, something that she needs to feel whole again. She sees him in her dreams sometimes, and he whispered to her like he did on that day when his blood had spilled across the palace carpets. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became at the Illean guards, and the more she wanted to hurt them back. She's been tempted to pull her revolver on them during the raids she's taken part in since, but she hasn't had the courage; the instinct to kill isn't one that Kiera has, and even thinking of putting a bullet in a mans chest is enough to make her skin crawl. She just wishes that she could have the courage to get her revenge, but alas she's too weak, and heals instead of harms; that's what Gabriel would've wanted, anyway.


“Aɴᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡᴇᴀᴋʟɪɴɢs...ᴡʜᴏ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇʏ·ʀᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ sᴀʏs ᴛʜᴇʏ·ʀᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ﹐ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴏsᴇ.” {Zᴇʟᴅᴀ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}



ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴇs
≄ Aunt Marjorie


ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴs
≄ Honestly? None.

ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs
≄ Gabriel Tate, Deceased


ᴍᴜsɪᴄᴀʟ sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
All The Little Lights
Come Home
Counting Stars
Dreaming
Just Keep Breathing



“Sᴏ ᴡᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴛ ᴏɴ﹐ ʙᴏᴀᴛs ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ﹐ ʙᴏʀɴᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴄᴇᴀsᴇʟᴇssʟʏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ.” {F. Sᴄᴏᴛᴛ Fɪᴛᴢɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ}

[Sυммer Rαιɴ || Wrιтιɴɢ ιѕ α cαllιɴɢ, ɴoт α cнoιce.]

Approved!

[Denver -writes poems drinks wine-]

"Aʟᴡᴀʏs ʀᴇᴛᴀɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ sᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ, ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴜɴᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴀʙʟᴇ. Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʙᴀsɪᴄ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴏғ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴀʟ. Dᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟɪғᴛ ᴀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ."

Ahrella Phenyl

→twentyone←→female←→heterosexual←→illea←→rebel←→the northern←→mila kunis←

"I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴡɪғᴇ, I ᴀᴍ ᴀ Wᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ."
ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ

Ahrella is not what every young woman should be. Ahrella is not soft around the edges, her life has made her hard and sharp. She keeps her secrets to herself, as well as most of her feelings, unless she is extremely angered, or if her family is harmed. She isn't afraid to put up a fight or stand for what she believes in, which is perhaps part of the reason she hasn't had many suitors yet. Not that she cares, really. The number one person in her life is her sister. Ahrella indulges in whatever her sister enjoys, regardless of if she actually likes it or not. Her sister is why she joined the rebels, so that she can bring them a better future. Ahrella could hate her father, if she let herself. If she acknowledge what he stole from her as a child, all of her softness, her happiness. But she doesn't. She doesn't waste her time or energy on hating a man she deems not of worth to her. Instead, she is simply indifferent. Ahrella believes there is no real chance at love for her, and she definitely doesn't see sex as something which goes hand and hand in romance. That being said, she has many flings, but they mean absolutely nothing to her.

"I ᴄᴀɴ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜɪs ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ɪᴛ ᴇxɪsᴛs. I ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴀʟsᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴇxɪsᴛs. Aʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴇɴᴅs ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ. Tʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ɪs ʜʏᴘᴏᴛʜᴇsɪs."

trigger warning, rape and abuse
ｈｉｓｔｏｒｙ

Ahrella didn't get to have the same childhood as her twin, and that is precisely her father's fault. Her father had a debt to pay, and Ahrella was how he was going to pay it. Her father owed a high ranking government official quite the debt. While her elder siter spent time at home doing chores, their father would take Ahrella out to the man's house and leave her there, to let him have his way with her. He would use the young girl to act out his darkest sexual fantasies. Ahrella being raped too away most of her chances of a future, and also took away any emotions she ever could have displayed. Her history has made her stoney.

Ahrella began to fight back when she was thirteen years old. She was not about to let this sleezy man keep ruining her life time and time again. One night, when her father told her she was to be delivered in a few hours, she took a knife from the kitchen and snuck it along with her. She was going to murder him, she was sure. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Taking a life was something she wasn't ready for yet.

But she was ready when she was fifteen years of age. She was so tired. So so tired. So this time, when she was forced over to the man's house, she did in fact stab him. 37 times to be exact. His blood mixed with her tears and her sweat and she just couldn't stop. It felt so good, so healing. She was free at last.

But there ain't no rest for the wicked. Ahrella had no place to go after she killed her oppressor. Certainly not back to her house, even if that's where her sister was. So instead, she ran. She lived on her own for alittle while, but eventually ended up joining the northern rebels. Her family was low on the caste system, and she wanted better for her sister than what their societal beliefs would give her. Being a member of the rebels, she could work to provide her sister a better future, even if her sister believed her to be dead.

"Sʜᴇ ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇ, ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ʟᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟᴄᴏɴʏ ʀᴀɪʟɪɴɢ, ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ."
ｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｉｏｎｓ

↳mother: Merabella Phenyl
↳father: Ariston Phenyl
↳sister: (open)

"Tʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴛᴇ, ɪᴛ’s ɪɴᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛᴇ ᴏғ ᴀʀᴛ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɢʟɪɴᴇss, ɪᴛ’s ɪɴᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛᴇ ᴏғ ғᴀɪᴛʜ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇsʏ, ɪᴛ’s ɪɴᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ. Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʟɪғᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɪᴛ’s ɪɴᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ."

[Savannah]

C O S M I N AF I O R E⇢mina
▸ ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ▸ ʜᴇᴛᴇʀᴏsᴇxᴜᴀʟ ▸ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ▸ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ﹣ᴛᴡᴏ ▸ sᴏᴜᴛʜᴇʀɴ ʀᴇʙᴇʟ ▸ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ▸

Due to being a full blooded Italian girl, Mina can be somewhat on the louder side. It only really happens if she drinks too much or is overly amused by something, like laughing really loudly and getting excited, but you can still tell she is Italian. It would be really hard to place her as an introvert or an extrovert though due to her being almost right in the middle. If she had to pick, Cosmina would probably say introvert, her true personality only really showing around Leo and people she loves. That number is no one apart from Leo and Bae right now, but what is sad is that she does not even know her baby's name since she left before Leo named him. She feels guilt and pain over having left them both, but in her heart, she knows her protectiveness over them both required she do that. Right now her confidence is very fragile and a lot of rejection from them would probably result in her leaving once and for all, because death and darkness no longer scare her.

P H Y S I C A LS T A T I S T I C S
▸ ғɪᴠᴇ ғᴏᴏᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ▸ ғɪғᴛʏ﹣ᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴋɪʟᴏɢʀᴀᴍs ▸ ᴡᴀᴠʏ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ ʜᴀɪʀ ▸ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇ sᴋɪɴ ▸ ʜᴏɴᴇʏ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ

Cosmina was born into the Southern rebels; it was both a blessing and a curse, being raised to defend yourself well, but also trained to hurt others with the same skills. She knew it was wrong but she could not deny it felt good to be powerful. Even if she disagreed with being there, how could she leave? She was only a child and had no one else to rely on, and no where else she could go where they would not find her. They being the Southern rebels, of course, as well as her parents. It was well known what would happen to defectors. They would either be killed, or worse. How could something be worse than death, you may ask? We will get to that. Back to Cosmina for now. Growing up, she did not actually go to school, and people rarely even knew of her existence off of the farm run by the rebel leaders. Cosmina was basically taught all the important things she needed to know by the other rebels, and for rebel children, they basically had a secret, hidden school there to provide all their educational needs. Their idea of education was a little bit different though and that is why Mina still has a lot of trouble with conventional study; she can read and write well enough, but maths, science, physics, and other subjects like that? Well, she would tank by the end of the first class. No, Mina was taught how to wield a knife and fire a gun. She was taught human anatomy to ensure the best possible way to torture someone without them dying. This is, coincidentally, one of those things which is worse than death.

When Cosmina reached the age of sixteen, she was allowed to start leaving the camp and attacking the castle. She has participate in four attacks. Did she kill anyone? No. Why not? She had always had that little moral guide in her head saying not to do something. Though she was indeed raised with killers and essentially raised as an assassin herself, there was one rebel, an older, wise looking woman, who was her nanny. Her parents were often busy with rebellious activities and they dumped her on the old woman whenever they could. She had endured many years of reflection on her own rebel history and deduced that it was wrong of her to do what she had done whilst she was young. With that knowledge, the woman tried to instill as much goodness and purity in Cosmina as she could. It worked, for the most part at least. After one of the attacks though, the last one she ever went on, Mina had changed in a public bathroom and shoved her clothing into the trash can. She quickly left the small building and started to rush down the street in a brisk manner of walking. She was so preoccupied with scanning for any trailing palace guards or the police force that she walked straight into someone. That just so happened to be another blessing and a curse. He asked her if she was okay and she said yes, but he did not believe her. He wanted to ensure that the puffed out, panicked girl had not been hurt in any way. To cover for her actions, Mina told him that someone had been following her and she was scared they might be trying to hurt her. He took her into a coffee shop, got her something to drink to calm down, and let her rest for a bit while.

About two weeks later, Mina was in town again, this time for more innocent purposes; clothes shopping. You went through a lot when you had to throw them out after each attack so you were not caught. She was walking past that same coffee house where the guy named Leo had stopped and helped her, and, lo and behold, he was in there. The moment he caught sight of her walking past the window, he jumped out of his seat and rushed to catch her. It turned out that he had been waiting there every day for two weeks with the hopes of seeing her again. That is when his chasing after her really started. He slowly wore her down bit by bit, breaking through her hard outer shell and prying his way into the soft, squishy center of her being filled with emotion. She originally tried to push him away and ignore him as much as possible; she was a rebel, and, having that bit of conscience, she knew it was a bad idea for him to get involved with her. But her heart had other plans and Cosmina fell hard for Leo.

Their relationship went on for around a year or so before things got really serious. Mina wanted to wait until Leo was at least eighteen before anything sexual happened, but their love was too strong and their will caved quite quickly once his sixteenth birthday rolled around. They say it only takes one time, right? Well, this was a perfect example of that. Cosmina found out she was pregnant about a month after they first slept together and, instead of being happy, she was petrified. Why though? Babies are supposed to bring you happiness and joy. Sure, she was young, but that was in no way the cause of her panic. Backtrack two weeks into the life of Mina and you will discover that she was raped on her way to the car from getting takeout dinner. She and Leo were both tired and neither felt like cooking, so she suggested getting some sushi. There was an alleyway on her right as she walked down the street and she was dragged in there without a moment to scream. If you back track another two weeks, to the day after her and Leo slept together, you would find out that Cosmina had decided to leave the Southern rebels. She had said her peace, packed her stuff, thanked her nanny for the years of advice, and left. She got a small apartment in town with the money she got from selling royal possessions and stealing things, and really, Mina was truly happy for the first time which was not related to Leo. But, bad things happen to defectors, and that is when you skip forward a month to when she was attacked. A trained assassin, one who could kill you with a twist of her arm, how could she not defend herself? An easy enough answer to explain; her rapist was another Southern rebel. He would have killed her had he not known her personally, but that is a fact that Mina does not know; he wore a mask to hide his face and protect his identity.

For the next three days, Cosmina was basically missing in action. She did not tell Leo what had happened for that would mean she had to explain her rebel history; while she was open and honest about most things between them, that little bombshell was not information he was privy to. Meanwhile, Cosmina was staying at a motel in the run down part of the city, too afraid to leave and worried about what to do. It took her three days to convince herself that, if she was meant to be dead, he would have killed her on the night of the attack. It also took her three days to go from a beautiful, fierce young woman to one who had no self confidence and felt like trash. Initially, she was in shock from the rape, and in denial about it happening. For three days, she was safe from the pain it brought, but when she knew she had to go back to Leo, it hit her like a falling brick wall.

P E R S O N A LO V E R V I E W S
▸ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ▸ sᴀʀᴄᴀsᴛɪᴄ ▸ ɪɴsᴛɪɴᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ▸ ʀᴇsᴏᴜʀᴄᴇғᴜʟ ▸ ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇᴅ ▸ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ

[Savannah]

Go forward again and Cosmina was scared about the pregnancy. What if it was not Leo's? What would she do then? It would be easy to tell it wasn't his if the kid did not appear to be Asian. To start with, Cosmina tried to get him to agree to a termination, knowing that if the baby was not born, he would not know about her rape. It killed her since the baby was still a part of her, and that was exactly how Leo convinced her to keep it. At the time, her parents were masquerading at caste two citizens in order to gain access to the castle. She went along with his plans to tell their parents and, begrudgingly, he knew where her parents were since they were all on good terms before she left the rebels. When they discovered Mina was pregnant, they basically kidnapped her and did not let her leave their house. They wanted her back, they wanted her baby, and, apparently, there was nothing that she could do to stop them. Their words, not her thoughts. That is why they were wrong as well; they trained their daughter a little too well and she escaped after about two weeks of playing along to get them to lower their guard. She never went back.

She did go to Leo, but her view on things had severely changed. She was a risk to his life, a risk to his health, and she had already messed up his future well and truly. If she did not go, Cosmina would be the death of him, and so she restarted her attempts to push him away. Mina is still not sure what is worse about that though; the pain it caused her heart to push away the one she loved, or the pain she felt at knowing Leo was accepting it and pulling away from her. She deserved it though, she was only trash. The baby came and she refused to hold it for fear of getting too attached to leave. Leo left the hospital that night to get her clothes and stuff for her stay, but that night, she vanished, and so did her parents for they had done their job at the castle and gone back to the rebel camp. Mina had only two plans in her mind; keep Leo and their baby safe, and kill the man who attacked her and ruined her life. It took two years for her to do it since he was being bounced around other Southern rebel camps in the country, but she found him, and when she did, that little voice in her head was silent. There was no holding back, there was no morals to stop her. She tortured him and, when she had finished having her revenge, she pulled out a gun and killed him. Now she is not sure what her plans are, but somehow, she ended up back in Angeles. She wants her family back, but she knows she does not deserve them. Cosmina has no idea what to do.

[Savannah]

I might have to rewrite her history at some point, but for now, I think it will do.

[E L L E]

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{ Disclaimer } ✉ (view spoiler)[ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Aʟʟ ǫᴜᴏᴛᴇs ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀs ᴅᴏ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪғs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀs. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴜsɪɴɢ. (hide spoiler)] ✉
➥ Part One

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ᴩᴏʀᴛʀᴀyᴇᴅ ʙy: ʀyᴀɴ ɢᴏꜱʟɪɴɢ.........-ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ❞

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▁ ▂ ▃ ▅ ▆ ＦＵＮＤＡＭＥＮＴＡＬＳ ▆ ▅ ▃ ▂ ▁
|name| Damon Jay Radley
|nickname| Don't even try it...
|gender| Male ♂
|sexuality| Straight
|relationship status| It's complicated
|caste| originally a six
|occupation| Southern Rebel Leader
|age| 29
|place of birth| Panama, South Illea
|date of birth| 30 October ▬ Scorpio ▬ Opal
✔ Determined and forceful | ✘ Jealous and resentful
✔ Emotional and intuitive | ✘ Compulsive and obsessive
✔ Powerful and passionate | ✘ Secretive and obstinate
✔ Exciting and magnetic | ✘ Possessive and violent
|nationality| Illean
|ethnicity| Illean, American
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.........ᴩᴇᴏᴩʟᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀyꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙy ᴀ ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴩᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ❞
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▁ ▂ ▃ ▅ ▆ ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ ▆ ▅ ▃ ▂ ▁

(view spoiler)[




(hide spoiler)] (view spoiler)[
Damon has a harsh, brooding look to his features which can be both disarming and frightening. With a sharp jaw and strong, angular facial structure he has a typically eye catching appearance. People are almost always drawn to the tattoo that marks his face, the sign of an ex-con who doesn't want to forget his past trouble. Damon's eyes are impossibly blue, filled with ambition but from time to time a cruelty that is not always noticed. Whilst he used his looks in order to win the affections of many women his own opinion on his appearance remains balanced. He's arrogant but not because of the way he looks. Aiden keeps his hair bleached as a way to distinguish himself from others. Though his appearance may be regarded as sinister, he considers fear to be the best motivator.

In body Damon is average height with a slim build, standing at 5"11. His body is lean and toned from time spent in the gym or training with the other rebels, he prides himself on keeping fit. Damon has a smooth olive skin tone with a handful of scars marking his body, these are from previous fights and wounds he'd earned in his criminal work. He has a number of recognisable tattoos marking his arms and chest. This only adds to the unsavoury appearance he seemed to want to upkeep. In all, though attractive Daom does possess a primal, fearsome edge to his appearance. (hide spoiler)]
|stature|
|height| 5'11
|build| Lean and muscular
|features|
|hair| bleached blonde
|eye colour| Blue
|face shape| thin
|skin|
|tone| Light tan/olive
Imperfections multiple bullet wounds and other scars
Markings Tattoo (view spoiler)[
(hide spoiler)]
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............................... yᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴩᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ❞
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▁ ▂ ▃ ▅ ▆ ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ ▆ ▅ ▃ ▂ ▁
▌▏arrogant || hot-headed || cruel || violent || charming│ ▌

Damon's personality is no where near as becoming as his features. People often find themselves drawn in by his disarming smile and original charming manner, it's only later that they discover his true nature by which point it's usually too late. His arrogance is one of his most noticeable characteristics, he walks with the gait of someone who considers themselves very highly. He's well spoken and his self-appreciation often comes across in the way he speaks. Damon considers himself to be a good leader and his self-assurance enables him to maintain a confident and strong approach to working in a team. Damon has a very fiery temper, he's very volatile and can switch in an instant based on what mood he's in. It's usually the people around him that bear the brunt of this and he can be very frightening without necessarily meaning to.

He knows exactly how to push buttons and knows what to say in order to elicit a reaction from people. Damon's cruelty comes from his own experiences with his father and the horrors he's endured over the years. Some say he's mentally disturbed but he's convinced its merely his way of laying down his command. He likes to be in control and finds that fear is the best way to motivate people. Accompanying his cruel nature is a series of decidedly violent qualities. He can flip like a switch and will lash out at those around him, he has the capacity to hurt those he gets close to both physically and emotionally. But he can hide these qualities with his charming nature and a sweet smile he reserves only for getting what he wants. Damon knows how to manipulate people and knows exactly what to say to get his own way. In all, he's just not a very nice guy.

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|biggest fear| losing everything he's achieved so far
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............................................................. ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴩʀᴇᴛᴛy❞
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▁ ▂ ▃ ▅ ▆ ＨＩＳＴＯＲＹ ▆ ▅ ▃ ▂ ▁

Damon had it rough growing up. He was caste 6, born to a single mother named Jules who had established a short relationship with a lowly caste 8. Damon never knew his father, he only knew what his mother had told him. The man's name wasn't important, he was a waste of space, an alcoholic and a drug user who was probably lying dead in a gutter somewhere. It was better that way Jules had said, it was better that Damon never knew him. And so the young boy grew up without a father. His childhood was reflective of this. Damon was a tearaway kid, always getting himself into trouble and roaming with a group of other misfits and trouble makers. He had his first spell in juvie at the age of thirteen after assaulting a shop owner who refused to sell him cigarettes.

Juvie did very little to set Damon straight and if anything it encouraged him to commit even more felonies. His mental state was often questioned by his mother who did everything she could to try and get him on the straight and narrow. Damon lacked any sense of authority and his morality was questionable at the best of times. There was always something not quite right with him, an internal hatred that came with the lack of a father figure and his mother's mostly absent presence due to work. This got consistently worse as he grew and his involvement with alcohol and drugs developed into full blown addictions. Rarely seen without a cigarette in his mouth the young Damon was a born hellion with no purpose and nothing to really work for. His attitude changed when his mother developed an illness, she was bed-ridden and suddenly there was no money to pay for food, no way for the family to live. Damon had been able to sustain his habits through theft and drug dealing but he couldn't help his mother on that money alone.

Damon was eighteen and this was the first time he was shown to have any sort of responsibility, he got a job as a delivery driver. It was a simple task, taking produce from one end of Illea to the other. Damon didn't hate the work, it helped to pay for some of his mothers medication and allowed him to really see the country. Long hours spent driving with the windows down and a cigarette in his mouth were pleasant memories. Some people may have said it was fate, the fact that he was asked to deliver a casket of wine up to the Illean palace on the warmest day of the year. He'd never thought much of the royals but an opportunity to visit the place and look around was something he never would have passed up. Yet this visit changed his life and his history forever.

Damon had been shocked and awed the moment he drove through the large ornate gates and followed the winding path up to the castle. He'd never seen a building so imposing or so grand. It made him feel slightly giddy just looking at it. Damon wasn't the only new arrival that day though and it was as he was unloading the crates from the back of the truck that he first set eyes on her. She was the most beautiful girl Damon had ever seen and he'd seen a lot of girls in his time. He knew she must be royalty, no normal girl held herself in that way or appeared in such ethereal grace. Damon had wanted to speak to her, but he knew he'd never get the chance. Girls like that didn't speak to men like him. He was a tyrant and he was trouble, the kind of man that no father would ever see his daughter with.

Damon was wrong this time though. He shared many glances with the beautiful girl throughout the day as he moved about the palace dropping off bottles and setting up shelving for them. All at once the grand building seemed dull in comparison to her. She was like something from a fairytale, lingering in doorways watching him work or floating around corners out of sight before he could speak to her. He'd never felt so truly captivated by someone. As the day drew to a close, Damon reluctantly packed up his truck. This was when she finally came to him, she was a tiny little thing, perfect as far as he could see. She spoke in a low accented voice, Italian he was certain and told him to return the following day. He agreed of course, he had no idea who she was. He knew not that she would be Queen of Italy or that she was already betrothed to another. Damon just knew what he saw. She was beautiful and she wanted to see him.



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..................................................... ɪ ᴏɴʟy ᴡɪꜱʜ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ❞
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[E L L E]

This template, entitled Blood and Bottle Caps is presented by
ღElle ( © ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ)
➥ Part Two

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ᴩᴏʀᴛʀᴀyᴇᴅ ʙy: ʀyᴀɴ ɢᴏꜱʟɪɴɢ...... -ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ❞
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▁ ▂ ▃ ▅ ▆ ＨＩＳＴＯＲＹ ＣＯＮＴＩＮＵＥＤ ▆ ▅ ▃ ▂ ▁


And so Damon met with her in spite of his better judgement. It didn't take long for him to realise who she really was, but it didn't phase him. He didn't care about her husband, he hardly cared that she was royal. She was beautiful and kind and it seemed as if he was all she wanted. Damon had never been with a girl who made him so happy, he'd only ever seen women as trophies, conquests who made notches on his bed post. But not his Italian Queen, she was perfect, he couldn't have asked for more and she was all he wanted for the rest of his life. They shared each others beds on many occasions, though rarely within the royal palace. He'd sneak her away as often as he could or they'd meet in the dead of night between the trees. Damon savoured every moment with her because in his heart he knew they could never be together, this was real life and fairytales didn't happen to men like him.

Almost a year into their affair Damon found out that she was pregnant with his child. She was expecting a boy, he'd be a father and he'd have a son. Damon was thrilled, he wanted this, he wanted her and a family. He'd told her they could run away, they could start a new life together far away from Illea. She'd disagreed though and tearfully returned to the palace where she'd broken down and told her husband everything. Damon was brought before the Royal family, both the King of Illea and the Italian King had demanded his death. For Damon had tainted his young wife and soiled his reputation. He looked a fool, what King could not control his own wife. She had begged for Damon's life though and the King finally accepted her pleas. Damon could live, he'd spend the next twelve years jailed for his crimes and the child would be killed before the scandal got out to the media.

Damon's world fell apart on that day. If the guards had let him he would have slaughtered the entire royal family then. The King of Italy for the disregard of his child's life, the Illean King for his own punishment and his Italian Queen for her cold and selfish choice. He'd screamed and yelled as he was dragged from the palace and thrown into the cells. It didn't help being within the cold walls of the prison, unable to do a thing but only to know that his son was to be killed for his mistakes. Damon didn't sleep at night, he stayed awake staring from the cell windows and praying that something would change. That his child could live.

His prayers did nothing though. What god gives good to a man who commits such heinous acts? Damon heard news a few weeks later that the King and Queen had returned to Italy. No word of a scandal, no word of a child. It was the only closure he would ever get. But it wasn't enough for him. The next six years Damon planned his revenge, thought up his ideas and plotted every detail about how he would finally get back at the Royals for what they did to his son. It was never enough though, just thinking about his sick fantasies, thinking about his hands around her pretty white throat. It did nothing. Only fuelled his anger.

As time went on he built contacts within the prison, befriended people who also hated the royal family and everything they stood for. When he broke out six years later Damon had at least a dozen following his lead. He was changed both physically and mentally though. His body covered in tattoos his mind filled with sordid fantasises. His followers were a start but it would not be enough to accomplish what he wanted. And so Damon headed south with his new comrades, falling back into his old work, drugs and alcohol, fear and fighting. He terrorised the south for a while until his group were approached by the Southern Rebels. The rebels shared similar ideals but their leader was sloppy and lacked the finesse that Damon had. The man didn't know how to lead people, he was afraid. Not like Damon who was strong, powered by anger and lead by revenge. Damon slit his throat while he slept and took command of his group.

They accepted Damon's leadership, following his guidance and placing their trust in him. Damon was a man who got things done. He was dangerous, ruthless and deadly, his ability to kill was unfounded. No one could match him. At least not until he found Jennifer. Four years had passed and Damon was nearing thirty when he found her. She was a wild young thing, a few years younger than him but just as bloodthirsty and just as hell bent on taking down the royals. He'd been captivated by her at first, at least until he saw through the mask she wore. Another damaged soul like himself, intent on causing misery and chaos wherever she went. Damon knew he'd never love again, his heart was broken and it wasn't ever going to be fixed. But Jennifer was nice to have around, she kept his bed warm and his mind away from thoughts of his son and his ex-lover.

Now all Damon wants is to finally enact his revenge in the most brutal way imaginable. And with the selection now in full swing he's in the process of coming up with the perfect plan. Only time will tell how long the royals have left. Damon and his army are growing and he won't stop until every last one has paid for what they did to him.

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............................................................ɪ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍy ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ ❞
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|father| unknown - Status: deceased - Love 1/10
|mother| Jules Radley - Status: deceased - Love 8/10
|lost love| Italian Queen - Status: alive - Love 2/10
|son| Charlie Radley - Status: deceased - Love 10/10
|current squeeze| Jennifer Flores - Status: alive - Love 7/10
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......................................................ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴏᴋᴀy ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ❞
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[sucre'd fiend]

. as asked in the other thread, can you bold the headers, please?

. you've forgotten the province of birth

. can I get a little more for history?