CLOSED! LAST TWO SPOTS RESERVED BY YUGA AND UNICORNWAR
In the lands where the moon meets the water- its essence and life becoming cool liquid- danger comes to the silver orb, and to the docile goddess within. Hunters of the water, which is said to have magical qualities due to the moon, go to drastic measures to acquire even a drop. They ignore that the water is only meant for those sick, in need of healing beyond the ability of a doctor. For the water does have magical qualities; the silver liquid cools burns and stitches together damaged skin. If swallowed, the body is purified from within. But there's a catch that the humans refuse to acknowledge: One must be pure of soul, or sincere in repentance, to be healed by the water of the moon- pure in itself. Greedy bounty hunters would be burned, set in agony for the rest of their life if the water were to be taken by them. Still the humans persisted; Her single Guardian could not hold them all back. Years and years of seeing those dying in her waters had tortured the goddess, and she finally decided to receive help.
That night, citizens all around the world stared in awe as pure beams of silver light shot through the sky, searching for those pure of heart and full of loyalty. The beams searched for females and males alike, no discrimination of age, race. or religion; they simply searched for the purest of souls.
This is where our story begins. Those chosen by the beams are following the lights back to their source, time and distance seeming to have no bearing. The first Guardian, who has been protecting the waters for many centuries, looks on to the recruits from her protective position in front of the goddess. You have been chosen, and once you take the oath to protect to goddess, moon, and waters, your destinies and bonds will be created.
I will be playing the first Guardian, she is my character for this Roleplay.
Okay, So there are going to be five new Guardians, meaning six in total.
They can look however you want them to, and act however as well. Despite 'pure souls' everyone acts differently.
Due to the divine force, there is no language barrier.
Once your character is accepted, their CS's will be put at the bottom of this post.
FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS!
CS:
Name:
Age:
Appearance:(Any type of picture)
Weapon of Choice: (Bow&Arrow, sword, lasso, hands, etc.)
Personality:
Place of Origin: (Israel, Ireland, America, etc.)
History:
Quote: (Optional)
Name: Mena <Last name long forgotten>
Age: 618
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice: Blunt Broad sword
Personality: Strong and caring, she has learned not to waste words on those who will not hear them, so she can be silent for a very long time. If she knows you will listen, however, she can chat seriously and amiably. She is a kind, motherly soul, but also has the commanding aura of a leader.
Place of Origin: Ireland
History: 618 years ago, Mena was born into a poor family, who made their money in farming. Her mother was intelligent, despite never having gotten a formal education, and taught Mena much that even adults of her time were unable to comprehend. As the place she lived in became more populated, they lost land to more wealthy settlers. Soon the farm was more of a garden, and their house was nearly all they had left. Still the newcomers wanted more. When her father refused to sell the last of his property, refused to be relocated, he told Mena and her mother to be ready for violent retaliation. He didn't take into account how violent.
At 18, Mena awoke to smoke in her lungs and her parents' screams in her ears. Frightened, she attempted to get to them. Running down the hall, arm over her nose and mouth, Mena reached their door where she heard them inside. She reached for the handle-burning her hand- and opened the door. Flames licked her face, burning her flesh as she ran in. Her feet were burned and raw when they hit the grass outside her house, her mother in her arms. She wasn't breathing. Mena ran back towards the house for her father, but a club to the back of her head had her out cold. As her mother took her last breath into her ash filled lungs, her father burned to death inside. The settlers left Mena to die.
She awoke to a bright light assaulting her eyelids. She thought it was daytime, and slowly opened her eyes, wincing in pain at the slightest of movements. The sky was still dark but there was a silver orb of light hovering around her uncertainly. She tentatively reached her raw arm out towards it and the orb shot into action, wrapping around her. The cool essence of the globe soothed her burns, and she closed her eyes once more. With her safely cocooned, it shot off into the sky, flying with the injured girl for what seemed like only a few minutes.
Mena's eyes shot open again when she felt cool water encompass her. She attempted to struggle before noticing the lack of pain, and how she could breathe despite being under the water. A hand breached the water and gently guided her to the surface, allowing her to emerge with her body free of the burns she had recieved. There, standing in a silver and white dress of unknown fabric, was a beautiful woman, glowing with a silver light. She introduced herself as Andraste, the goddess of the Moon and keeper of the Healing Falls. She had Mena explain the story of her burns, and listened in with sorrow in her eyes.
"You may stay with me child, though I warn you of those who use harm to fulfill their greed." The goddess offered. Mena, with a determined glint in her eye, slowly stood. This woman, this goddess, had given her another chance at life. She wouldn't let greedy hunters and looters harm Andraste.
"You saved me, I wish to protect you."
The goddess smiled softly.
"Then so it shall be."
And for the last 600 hundred years, protecting her goddess has been Mena's life. And she loved it.
Quote: "The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to."
Name:
Annie Goodell
Age:
18 (1991-2009)
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice:
Emeici
Personality:
Annie is a wild girl who does what she wants when she wants. She cares little for her own welfare and is reckless, often ending up hurting herself in some way or other. She is sarcastic and snarky, blunt and straightforward, and isn’t afraid to hurt someone’s feelings to deliver the cold, hard truth.
Place of Origin:
Niceville, Florida
History:
Annie lived a good life, her parents were not divorced and both were alive, she lived financially well, and she had plenty of friends that adored her and she them. Annie studied well in school and never got in trouble; her motto was to do her best and that she did. Well, until she was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of sixteen.
Annie went crazy. She became depressed, self-destructive. She knew she was going to die and nothing was going to stop it; a girl her age shouldn’t have to accept that. Her parents, too distressed with the news, let her do whatever. Annie swam with sharks once, even prodding one in the side simply because she had the means to and maybe even hoping it would end her misery. She ran with the bulls in Spain, even though she was a slow runner and could easily be impaled in her weaken state – she still survived with only a scratch. At the zoo, she would climb beneath the railing at the lion exhibit and stick her hand tauntingly in between the bars until a zookeeper would kick her out. No one stopped her, no one did anything and she didn’t care. At least, she didn’t care anymore.
At the age of eighteen, she was found in her room covered in blood, her wig had fallen off and she was in her pajamas. She was barely alive. Her parents rushed her to the hospital immediately. There, she was put under intensive treatment until at 12:41 she was announced dead.
To say, when Annie discovered that there was an afterlife, she was outraged. Her pain was to be continued after every attempt at ending it in the past three years of torture.
Quote:
“The endings of a book are the best. Because, afterwards, you just forget all about it.”
Name: Lavender Lavoie
Age: 28 (1937-1965)
Weapon of Choice: Rapier
Personality: Lavender is an independent individual, in a sense. She likes to do things her own way, but doesn't much mind someone tagging along for the ride. While not at all unsocial, Lavender doesn't necessarily expect, or want for that matter, people to surround her at all times. She is, by her own admission, a grown woman after all and adults don't necessarily need to have friends or anything of the like. Of course, having someone to speak to from time to time wouldn't hurt her, not that she would ever admit that. Lavender's biggest pride comes from her ability to not depend on others, although it is pride others have thrust upon her. Because of her independent nature, she has a bit of a "mentor" streak, and she'll always be the first one to offer advice.
Despite her suaveness, Lavender is an utter mess when it comes to actually becoming interesting in things. She has a bit of an obsessive personality, one that she tries to hide very well. In fact, her entire "cool" personality is just a facade, one built up over the years to keep others away from her. However, no one can quite resist the cool "mysterious" girl, as she has observed. Since she is so good at hiding her entire self, she has also become rather good at telling stories. In fact, Lavender may just be the best liar this side of the afterlife. Fortunate she never uses her power for evil, well almost never.
Place of Origin: Marseille, France
History: Lavender's childhood wasn't necessarily anything different or new, by her times standards. She lived with her mother and her two younger siblings, as her father had been enlisted the army long before Lavender was born. While Lavender grew up in a home that could be considered "upper middle class", France wasn't exactly the happiest place to live in by the time she was five. WWII was in full swing by then, and her homeland became a torn up battlefield. Most of the war was forgotten by Lavender in a haze of repressed memories and her mother's attempts at shielding her from this harsh part of the world. However by the time she was eight the war was over, and her father never managed to make it back home. They never found a body, no one could confirm or deny if he was dead or not, but she and her mother knew what had happened.
As she got older she grew angry, but not in the way everyone believed she was. To her family, Lavender was a bitter girl because a war had destroyed her country and her father's body was no where to be found. Indeed it seemed like everyone, including Lavender's peers, were in a perpetual sadness because of the war. This was expected of course, and that's where Lavender's anger came from. Lavender began to realize that, well, she could quite remember much of anything concerning the war and her father. Repressed memories and a mother devoted to keeping the horrors of the world away from her children left her incapable of remembering events that had happened only years ago. As for her father, the fact that he had been in the army for so long did nothing to help her. What she could remember of him was fuzzy and brief, not exactly the memories one would want from a father. She knew he was tall, she knew he was strong, and she knew she looked a lot like him, but that wasn't enough.
The deep empty spaces in her memories caused Lavender to lash out, she was angry. She felt cheated out of everything, cheated out of a father and cheated out of closure. How could she ever get closure if she didn't remember what made her so sad? Almost every night she would wake up with night terrors from an event she couldn't even fully remember. It was because of this that Lavender never truly came to terms with the war, something she couldn't even remember. As soon as Lavender turned eighteen she left on a boat to Canada, thought not because of any malice towards her family. In fact, her family had been the kindest people she ever met, however Lavender felt she had to distance herself from France if she ever wanted to obtain peace of mind.
She had hopped around for nine years, going to one country after another. Lavender began to mellow out a bit, but the empty feeling still remained. Eventually, she began participating in rallies, protests, just about anything that made her feel like she was truly involved in what was happening to the world. Her anger had been replaced with distance and an ancient tiredness, Lavender had decided on her journeys that she would become a distant participator in life, that way she could never truly miss anything but she wouldn't get emotionally attached anymore. However, despite how tired she was, she couldn't quite turn herself into a robot overnight.
Lavender returned to France in 1964, upon the news of her mother's death. She had been too caught up in traveling to even receive the messages about her mother that were desperately sent to whatever residence she was believed to be residing in. She was so ashamed, and so deeply saddened by her mother's passing. Moreover, she was angry again, angry at herself. Lavender had managed to create another empty hole in her conscious, though she knew this one was entirely her fault. In 1965, Lavender was found drowned in a small lake near her home. Her death was mysterious, all signs pointing to suicide. However, with mysterious bruises on her body and a reputation as a "rioter" her death was never exactly solved. Lavender died as just another hole, she never was good at getting closure.
Lavender wasn't exactly surprised to find herself in the afterlife, though it wasn't exactly a clear situation either. When she was approached by the Goddess,she handled the situation with the grace she had acquired over the years. That is to say, she pretended as if it wasn't exactly a big deal, being chosen to protect something so valuable and all. In truth, she had a childish idea that she'd see her mother and father in the afterlife. She knew it was silly, but she hoped to have at least one chapter of her life end without a question mark.
Quote: "I've tried being true to myself, and I have never been more tired."
EXTRAS
Quarters:
Common Room:
I will be playing the first Guardian, she is my character for this Roleplay.
Okay, So there are going to be five new Guardians, meaning six in total.
They can look however you want them to, and act however as well. Despite 'pure souls' everyone acts differently.
Due to the divine force, there is no language barrier.
Once your character is accepted, their CS's will be put at the bottom of this post.
FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS!
CS:
Name:
Age:
Appearance:(Any type of picture)
Weapon of Choice: (Bow&Arrow, sword, lasso, hands, etc.)
Personality:
Place of Origin: (Israel, Ireland, America, etc.)
History:
Quote: (Optional)
Name: Mena <Last name long forgotten>
Age: 618
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice: Blunt Broad sword
Personality: Strong and caring, she has learned not to waste words on those who will not hear them, so she can be silent for a very long time. If she knows you will listen, however, she can chat seriously and amiably. She is a kind, motherly soul, but also has the commanding aura of a leader.
Place of Origin: Ireland
History: 618 years ago, Mena was born into a poor family, who made their money in farming. Her mother was intelligent, despite never having gotten a formal education, and taught Mena much that even adults of her time were unable to comprehend. As the place she lived in became more populated, they lost land to more wealthy settlers. Soon the farm was more of a garden, and their house was nearly all they had left. Still the newcomers wanted more. When her father refused to sell the last of his property, refused to be relocated, he told Mena and her mother to be ready for violent retaliation. He didn't take into account how violent.
At 18, Mena awoke to smoke in her lungs and her parents' screams in her ears. Frightened, she attempted to get to them. Running down the hall, arm over her nose and mouth, Mena reached their door where she heard them inside. She reached for the handle-burning her hand- and opened the door. Flames licked her face, burning her flesh as she ran in. Her feet were burned and raw when they hit the grass outside her house, her mother in her arms. She wasn't breathing. Mena ran back towards the house for her father, but a club to the back of her head had her out cold. As her mother took her last breath into her ash filled lungs, her father burned to death inside. The settlers left Mena to die.
She awoke to a bright light assaulting her eyelids. She thought it was daytime, and slowly opened her eyes, wincing in pain at the slightest of movements. The sky was still dark but there was a silver orb of light hovering around her uncertainly. She tentatively reached her raw arm out towards it and the orb shot into action, wrapping around her. The cool essence of the globe soothed her burns, and she closed her eyes once more. With her safely cocooned, it shot off into the sky, flying with the injured girl for what seemed like only a few minutes.
Mena's eyes shot open again when she felt cool water encompass her. She attempted to struggle before noticing the lack of pain, and how she could breathe despite being under the water. A hand breached the water and gently guided her to the surface, allowing her to emerge with her body free of the burns she had recieved. There, standing in a silver and white dress of unknown fabric, was a beautiful woman, glowing with a silver light. She introduced herself as Andraste, the goddess of the Moon and keeper of the Healing Falls. She had Mena explain the story of her burns, and listened in with sorrow in her eyes.
"You may stay with me child, though I warn you of those who use harm to fulfill their greed." The goddess offered. Mena, with a determined glint in her eye, slowly stood. This woman, this goddess, had given her another chance at life. She wouldn't let greedy hunters and looters harm Andraste.
"You saved me, I wish to protect you."
The goddess smiled softly.
"Then so it shall be."
And for the last 600 hundred years, protecting her goddess has been Mena's life. And she loved it.
Quote: "The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to."
Shintaro
Age: 32 (1808-1840)
Weapon of Choice: Spear or Katana
Personality:
Shintaro is a fun loving man bubbling with creativity and imagination. For some, it's very hard to take him seriously, but when someone manages to cross him, he is ruthless. He has a tendency to be a bit reckless and a complete daredevil. Shintaro always loves taking advantage of a good opportunity to crack a joke, and warming up the hearts of others. He's a little childish, but noble at heart, and has a passion for justice.
Place of Origin:
Kyoto, Japan
History:
Born to a family of modest farmers, Shintaro grew up to find his home life uninteresting. He was the second eldest of four other children, and thankfully didn't have to work as hard as he probably could have as an only child. As he became of age, he decided he didn't want to live on the farm like the rest of his siblings, so he departed to explore the lands beyond. With little money as he reached the capital city, he found it incredibly difficult to live and preformed as many odd jobs as he could. It was then he became fascinated with the samurai as a dream status he could never live to be a part of. Eventually, Shintaro moved around to villages and made a living as a con artist. Most of the time, he'd pretend to be all sorts of people in order to earn a few bucks or a bed for the night, but his favorite persona was a samurai on an “important military mission.” Through the years he'd help many gullible people out, but mostly just gain some unwanted enemies up until the day he died. Shintaro's life ended as he came across a very small village, where he saw defenseless peasants being threatened by samurai from the capital. Shintaro came to defend them, but nobody gave him aide as the samurai laughed in his face. He was okay with that. He fought the officers up until the bitter end, but was thankful the families were able to get away. He had wondered if leaving his homeland many years ago was a mistake, but realized that it could have only been fate. Though he was not a true samurai, he had aided people as much as he could, and that was all that mattered...
Shintaro was utterly shocked that he had even made it to some kind of afterlife, but couldn't wrap his head around being chosen to be a guardian for a Goddess! For ages, he had low confidence of being a guardian to a deity, due to his sins in his past life. He's a bit unsure, but feels like the Goddess has given him a second chance at life and does not wish to disappoint her.
Quote: “I promise you, M'lady of the moon, that I won't need to be a swindler as long as I'm by your side.”
Age: 32 (1808-1840)
Weapon of Choice: Spear or Katana
Personality:
Shintaro is a fun loving man bubbling with creativity and imagination. For some, it's very hard to take him seriously, but when someone manages to cross him, he is ruthless. He has a tendency to be a bit reckless and a complete daredevil. Shintaro always loves taking advantage of a good opportunity to crack a joke, and warming up the hearts of others. He's a little childish, but noble at heart, and has a passion for justice.
Place of Origin:
Kyoto, Japan
History:
Born to a family of modest farmers, Shintaro grew up to find his home life uninteresting. He was the second eldest of four other children, and thankfully didn't have to work as hard as he probably could have as an only child. As he became of age, he decided he didn't want to live on the farm like the rest of his siblings, so he departed to explore the lands beyond. With little money as he reached the capital city, he found it incredibly difficult to live and preformed as many odd jobs as he could. It was then he became fascinated with the samurai as a dream status he could never live to be a part of. Eventually, Shintaro moved around to villages and made a living as a con artist. Most of the time, he'd pretend to be all sorts of people in order to earn a few bucks or a bed for the night, but his favorite persona was a samurai on an “important military mission.” Through the years he'd help many gullible people out, but mostly just gain some unwanted enemies up until the day he died. Shintaro's life ended as he came across a very small village, where he saw defenseless peasants being threatened by samurai from the capital. Shintaro came to defend them, but nobody gave him aide as the samurai laughed in his face. He was okay with that. He fought the officers up until the bitter end, but was thankful the families were able to get away. He had wondered if leaving his homeland many years ago was a mistake, but realized that it could have only been fate. Though he was not a true samurai, he had aided people as much as he could, and that was all that mattered...
Shintaro was utterly shocked that he had even made it to some kind of afterlife, but couldn't wrap his head around being chosen to be a guardian for a Goddess! For ages, he had low confidence of being a guardian to a deity, due to his sins in his past life. He's a bit unsure, but feels like the Goddess has given him a second chance at life and does not wish to disappoint her.
Quote: “I promise you, M'lady of the moon, that I won't need to be a swindler as long as I'm by your side.”
CS:
Name: Anaïs
Age: 14 (1666-1680)
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice: dark magic, uses hands or wand
Personality: While her first impression may make her seem quiet and cautious Anaïs is reckless, stubborn, and wild - demonstrating a rage like fire that burns within. She can take quite a punch but doesn’t know when to stop if on the offensive side. Her anger hides her true feelings of lonliness and sadness from the neglect of her peers.
Place of Origin: Salem, Boston
History: The little witch trails from a long heritage of witches, her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, and so on. Though in her younger years she was unaware of the powers she contained after being stranded alone at an orphanage. From the moment she got there Anaïs spent most of her childhood being tormented by her peers, for they would call her names and made fun of her visible features. The other girls would yell “look, a witch! Burn her! Drown her!” and push her down. Sometimes they locked her inside closets during church, or even outside - especially if it was raining. The best way she would cope was in the town's library, she would explore the fantasy lands of warlocks and wizards. She eventually stumbled upon a particular book, it fell on the floor with a whump as she passed by that particular shelf. She opened the book to find all sorts of information on witchcraft, a brief history on witch-kind, and all sorts of wiccan spells. What a lucky find! She would say to herself. Anaïs kept this book, it held a special place in her heart.
However one day, enough was enough. The girls weren't getting a reaction out of her, and they tried to take the book away from her as a last resort to see her speak. It went much too far this time, and no one, not even Anaïs, expected what happened next.
She looked up, her eyes practically glowed in the dark room they stood in. The walls of glass shook as the sky clouded, thunder rumbled in the background. The little witch was unaware of the intensity of her powers.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She yelled, lightning struck the ground, the windows shattered, as if from an unknown force. The reaction sent the girls to the floor, they all screamed at her, "She is a witch! Someone! Help!" The walls looked scorched, the roof seemed to be cracking from the shock. Anaïs looked at the group in fear and knew she had to leave. She scrambled to pick up her book and flee from the orphanage. She ran towards a lake on the edge of town, unaware of the gasps and screams from the townspeople. Her feet left behind scorched marks in the ground, marks on her neck and forehead became visible.
The woods called her name as her footsteps cracked twigs and branches under her. She felt suffocated by the trees, their tall trunks loomed over her as she tripped over roots and stumbled through bushes. Anais looked back, realizing how far she had run from the town. She looked down at her book, it glowed like the cool colors of the sky at dusk. She huffed, finally feeling at least a little safer, and turned around to continue on her way. Never had she thought of running off, and it was probably the best decision she ever made. Her soul felt free, she had nothing to worry about, nothing to fear.
While attempting to carefully descend a hill her foot slipped, sending Anais tumbling down the landscape. Her' tiny body smacked against the branches, scraping her face and carving her legs. Her purple dress ripped with terrible sounds as she plummeted down the cliff. At the bottom of the hill lied a rose bush; its deep red flowers softly glimmered in the quiet light. She tumbled into the shrubs, her arms were pierced by the thorns in a decorative fashion. She sat still, quietly wincing as she plucked the thorns from their resting place in her skin. Carefully Anais took herself out from under the bushes and hastily looked through the bushes to find her book. Luckily it was intact, and as she brushed off the cover her crimson hand marked it delicately. The novel suddenly glowed with a brilliant light, Anais was amazed. All this time, she never would have guessed that something so fantastical would happen. She really was a witch. The book floated above her hands and as she stared in awe a wand erected from the book. Her eyes glimmered with excitement, and she immediately grabbed the tool, sending a spark of purple lightning towards the sky, it crackled in the storm clouds.
Anais wandered through the woods for a day or two, her wiccan soul grew stronger by the hour. She learned to do many of the spells from her book, and befriended the wind and animals of the forest. One beautiful moonlit night, the sky as dark as space, glimmering with the galaxy of stars. A moonbeam traced its way down into the wood, searching for the immense aura it sensed. Anais was hanging out by a small ravine, staring into her reflection - her memories passed by like the trailers before a movie. The moonbeam finally reaching it's target raced over to the little witch, swirling around her as if asking for her attention. She proceeded to follow the beam towards a pond where the moonlight merged with the falling water of a stationary waterfall. The moonbeam spun around, not allowing Anais to go any further towards the midnight pool. She decided to situate herself near the lake, swirling her wand in the air, it spewed multi-color plasma that glowed in the dark like a flair shot into the sky.
She never thought she would be chosen, her self-depreciating attitude prevented her from thinking that such a role would be placed on her.
[EDITED] it is much better now ;v;
Quote: "The wind is calming, rejuvenating...it speaks to you, if you listen closely."
Name: Anaïs
Age: 14 (1666-1680)
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice: dark magic, uses hands or wand
Personality: While her first impression may make her seem quiet and cautious Anaïs is reckless, stubborn, and wild - demonstrating a rage like fire that burns within. She can take quite a punch but doesn’t know when to stop if on the offensive side. Her anger hides her true feelings of lonliness and sadness from the neglect of her peers.
Place of Origin: Salem, Boston
History: The little witch trails from a long heritage of witches, her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, and so on. Though in her younger years she was unaware of the powers she contained after being stranded alone at an orphanage. From the moment she got there Anaïs spent most of her childhood being tormented by her peers, for they would call her names and made fun of her visible features. The other girls would yell “look, a witch! Burn her! Drown her!” and push her down. Sometimes they locked her inside closets during church, or even outside - especially if it was raining. The best way she would cope was in the town's library, she would explore the fantasy lands of warlocks and wizards. She eventually stumbled upon a particular book, it fell on the floor with a whump as she passed by that particular shelf. She opened the book to find all sorts of information on witchcraft, a brief history on witch-kind, and all sorts of wiccan spells. What a lucky find! She would say to herself. Anaïs kept this book, it held a special place in her heart.
However one day, enough was enough. The girls weren't getting a reaction out of her, and they tried to take the book away from her as a last resort to see her speak. It went much too far this time, and no one, not even Anaïs, expected what happened next.
She looked up, her eyes practically glowed in the dark room they stood in. The walls of glass shook as the sky clouded, thunder rumbled in the background. The little witch was unaware of the intensity of her powers.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She yelled, lightning struck the ground, the windows shattered, as if from an unknown force. The reaction sent the girls to the floor, they all screamed at her, "She is a witch! Someone! Help!" The walls looked scorched, the roof seemed to be cracking from the shock. Anaïs looked at the group in fear and knew she had to leave. She scrambled to pick up her book and flee from the orphanage. She ran towards a lake on the edge of town, unaware of the gasps and screams from the townspeople. Her feet left behind scorched marks in the ground, marks on her neck and forehead became visible.
The woods called her name as her footsteps cracked twigs and branches under her. She felt suffocated by the trees, their tall trunks loomed over her as she tripped over roots and stumbled through bushes. Anais looked back, realizing how far she had run from the town. She looked down at her book, it glowed like the cool colors of the sky at dusk. She huffed, finally feeling at least a little safer, and turned around to continue on her way. Never had she thought of running off, and it was probably the best decision she ever made. Her soul felt free, she had nothing to worry about, nothing to fear.
While attempting to carefully descend a hill her foot slipped, sending Anais tumbling down the landscape. Her' tiny body smacked against the branches, scraping her face and carving her legs. Her purple dress ripped with terrible sounds as she plummeted down the cliff. At the bottom of the hill lied a rose bush; its deep red flowers softly glimmered in the quiet light. She tumbled into the shrubs, her arms were pierced by the thorns in a decorative fashion. She sat still, quietly wincing as she plucked the thorns from their resting place in her skin. Carefully Anais took herself out from under the bushes and hastily looked through the bushes to find her book. Luckily it was intact, and as she brushed off the cover her crimson hand marked it delicately. The novel suddenly glowed with a brilliant light, Anais was amazed. All this time, she never would have guessed that something so fantastical would happen. She really was a witch. The book floated above her hands and as she stared in awe a wand erected from the book. Her eyes glimmered with excitement, and she immediately grabbed the tool, sending a spark of purple lightning towards the sky, it crackled in the storm clouds.
Anais wandered through the woods for a day or two, her wiccan soul grew stronger by the hour. She learned to do many of the spells from her book, and befriended the wind and animals of the forest. One beautiful moonlit night, the sky as dark as space, glimmering with the galaxy of stars. A moonbeam traced its way down into the wood, searching for the immense aura it sensed. Anais was hanging out by a small ravine, staring into her reflection - her memories passed by like the trailers before a movie. The moonbeam finally reaching it's target raced over to the little witch, swirling around her as if asking for her attention. She proceeded to follow the beam towards a pond where the moonlight merged with the falling water of a stationary waterfall. The moonbeam spun around, not allowing Anais to go any further towards the midnight pool. She decided to situate herself near the lake, swirling her wand in the air, it spewed multi-color plasma that glowed in the dark like a flair shot into the sky.
She never thought she would be chosen, her self-depreciating attitude prevented her from thinking that such a role would be placed on her.
[EDITED] it is much better now ;v;
Quote: "The wind is calming, rejuvenating...it speaks to you, if you listen closely."
Annie Goodell
Age:
18 (1991-2009)
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice:
Emeici
Personality:
Annie is a wild girl who does what she wants when she wants. She cares little for her own welfare and is reckless, often ending up hurting herself in some way or other. She is sarcastic and snarky, blunt and straightforward, and isn’t afraid to hurt someone’s feelings to deliver the cold, hard truth.
Niceville, Florida
History:
Annie lived a good life, her parents were not divorced and both were alive, she lived financially well, and she had plenty of friends that adored her and she them. Annie studied well in school and never got in trouble; her motto was to do her best and that she did. Well, until she was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of sixteen.
Annie went crazy. She became depressed, self-destructive. She knew she was going to die and nothing was going to stop it; a girl her age shouldn’t have to accept that. Her parents, too distressed with the news, let her do whatever. Annie swam with sharks once, even prodding one in the side simply because she had the means to and maybe even hoping it would end her misery. She ran with the bulls in Spain, even though she was a slow runner and could easily be impaled in her weaken state – she still survived with only a scratch. At the zoo, she would climb beneath the railing at the lion exhibit and stick her hand tauntingly in between the bars until a zookeeper would kick her out. No one stopped her, no one did anything and she didn’t care. At least, she didn’t care anymore.
At the age of eighteen, she was found in her room covered in blood, her wig had fallen off and she was in her pajamas. She was barely alive. Her parents rushed her to the hospital immediately. There, she was put under intensive treatment until at 12:41 she was announced dead.
To say, when Annie discovered that there was an afterlife, she was outraged. Her pain was to be continued after every attempt at ending it in the past three years of torture.
“The endings of a book are the best. Because, afterwards, you just forget all about it.”
Name: Lilith Nocturne (Nickname Lia or Lie)
Age: 19
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice: Her body, Daggers, Knives, Needles, Guns, Chakram, and a pair life-like mechanical wings which allow her to fly for a bit and also releases a sleeping gas or a gas that burns flesh
Personality: Lilith is an incredibly sweet girl who spends much of her time thinking or day dreaming, usually while painting. She is a whimsical creature that finds everything to be delightful and despite her appearance is rather fond of things others would typically describe as dark or scary. Quite often she seems to wander around aimlessly but nothing she does is without reason.
Place of Origin: Born in Brazil but stayed in France for 2 years. Never stayed anywhere long enough to call home.
History: (1921-1940) Lilith Nocturne is the only heir to the world famous Nocturne Cirque, the most magnificent traveling circus that ever would be. As a baby she stayed in a her parent's private mansion in France. She was tended to by maids until the age of 3 and then joined her parents at the circus. Immediately her parents taught her every circus skill imaginable and soon she able to be a part of tightrope, contortionist, tiger taming, acrobat, knife throwing, balancing, hula hooping and trapeze acts. By the age of ten she was better than anyone else in the troupe, even more so than her parents. Lilith was completely enamored with the circus, enchanted by all the mysteries it held. Seeing how much she cared about it, her parent decided it was time to tell her the truth behind the circus. Nocturne Cirque was only a front her parents had created for an elite organization that they ran that secretly took commissions from a number of countries. Jobs ranged from assassination to secret transports or deliveries to information collection, all easily accomplished under the guise of a traveling circus. Her parents promised her they never did anything that was unjust or morally illicit and that everything they did was to help the world find peace. However, they didn't need to coax her into believing anything for she already knew about most of it and had already made the decision to continue the family business. She began working with them instantly and only on the most dangerous and important missions. Lilith became Nocturne's trump card and rumors of her spread throughout countries. Although she was extremely skilled, Lilith never killed. She didn't need to and refused to take on assassinations. Most of her work involved freeing children and women from horrendous situations of abuse, slavery, and sex houses. Orphans all over the world received homes and women were given good money to live on. Slaves from all over came to stay at the circus, for all were allowed to seek refuge under it's drapes.
On her nineteenth birthday the whole circus gathered to celebrate with her and her parents by giving her a special midnight performance. During the final act, hundreds of men in gas masks stormed the circus tents, releasing poison gas bombs. The attack came from out of no where, but the troupe was skilled and couldn't be taken down so easily. The men lit the tents on fire and as the flames grew unbearable they still continued to fight and bring in countless more troops. It was a suicide mission to exterminate Nocturne Cirque and there was no escape for anyone. With that in mind Lilith vowed to bring peace to all and so strapped on a pair of mechanical wings, an invention she had just finished. With them she flew overhead into the burning ceiling, taking an infinite number of bullets, to release the sleeping gas with in them. Everyone dropped into a deep slumber. Lilith's wings caught fire and she too fell to the floor. Paralyzed from the fall, Lilith watched as her parents and friends burned in the flames whilst they dreamed. Wishing them good night, she too was engulfed.
Lilith awoke cool waters that glowed mystically under the moon light. All pain had left her and all wounds were cured. The mechanical wings had melted into her back when she died and were completely mended into her body while she healed. As she floated soundlessly through the ripples she realized there was a purpose to her being here. Staring at moon she understood that she had been called to protect something precious, to be a guardian of some sort. Closing her eyes, Lilith dreamed of what this new life would bring.
Quote: “Yo soy tu sueñita, Bella Noche"
Age: 19
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice: Her body, Daggers, Knives, Needles, Guns, Chakram, and a pair life-like mechanical wings which allow her to fly for a bit and also releases a sleeping gas or a gas that burns flesh
Personality: Lilith is an incredibly sweet girl who spends much of her time thinking or day dreaming, usually while painting. She is a whimsical creature that finds everything to be delightful and despite her appearance is rather fond of things others would typically describe as dark or scary. Quite often she seems to wander around aimlessly but nothing she does is without reason.
Place of Origin: Born in Brazil but stayed in France for 2 years. Never stayed anywhere long enough to call home.
History: (1921-1940) Lilith Nocturne is the only heir to the world famous Nocturne Cirque, the most magnificent traveling circus that ever would be. As a baby she stayed in a her parent's private mansion in France. She was tended to by maids until the age of 3 and then joined her parents at the circus. Immediately her parents taught her every circus skill imaginable and soon she able to be a part of tightrope, contortionist, tiger taming, acrobat, knife throwing, balancing, hula hooping and trapeze acts. By the age of ten she was better than anyone else in the troupe, even more so than her parents. Lilith was completely enamored with the circus, enchanted by all the mysteries it held. Seeing how much she cared about it, her parent decided it was time to tell her the truth behind the circus. Nocturne Cirque was only a front her parents had created for an elite organization that they ran that secretly took commissions from a number of countries. Jobs ranged from assassination to secret transports or deliveries to information collection, all easily accomplished under the guise of a traveling circus. Her parents promised her they never did anything that was unjust or morally illicit and that everything they did was to help the world find peace. However, they didn't need to coax her into believing anything for she already knew about most of it and had already made the decision to continue the family business. She began working with them instantly and only on the most dangerous and important missions. Lilith became Nocturne's trump card and rumors of her spread throughout countries. Although she was extremely skilled, Lilith never killed. She didn't need to and refused to take on assassinations. Most of her work involved freeing children and women from horrendous situations of abuse, slavery, and sex houses. Orphans all over the world received homes and women were given good money to live on. Slaves from all over came to stay at the circus, for all were allowed to seek refuge under it's drapes.
On her nineteenth birthday the whole circus gathered to celebrate with her and her parents by giving her a special midnight performance. During the final act, hundreds of men in gas masks stormed the circus tents, releasing poison gas bombs. The attack came from out of no where, but the troupe was skilled and couldn't be taken down so easily. The men lit the tents on fire and as the flames grew unbearable they still continued to fight and bring in countless more troops. It was a suicide mission to exterminate Nocturne Cirque and there was no escape for anyone. With that in mind Lilith vowed to bring peace to all and so strapped on a pair of mechanical wings, an invention she had just finished. With them she flew overhead into the burning ceiling, taking an infinite number of bullets, to release the sleeping gas with in them. Everyone dropped into a deep slumber. Lilith's wings caught fire and she too fell to the floor. Paralyzed from the fall, Lilith watched as her parents and friends burned in the flames whilst they dreamed. Wishing them good night, she too was engulfed.
Lilith awoke cool waters that glowed mystically under the moon light. All pain had left her and all wounds were cured. The mechanical wings had melted into her back when she died and were completely mended into her body while she healed. As she floated soundlessly through the ripples she realized there was a purpose to her being here. Staring at moon she understood that she had been called to protect something precious, to be a guardian of some sort. Closing her eyes, Lilith dreamed of what this new life would bring.
Quote: “Yo soy tu sueñita, Bella Noche"
Name: Lavender Lavoie
Age: 28 (1937-1965)
Weapon of Choice: Rapier
Personality: Lavender is an independent individual, in a sense. She likes to do things her own way, but doesn't much mind someone tagging along for the ride. While not at all unsocial, Lavender doesn't necessarily expect, or want for that matter, people to surround her at all times. She is, by her own admission, a grown woman after all and adults don't necessarily need to have friends or anything of the like. Of course, having someone to speak to from time to time wouldn't hurt her, not that she would ever admit that. Lavender's biggest pride comes from her ability to not depend on others, although it is pride others have thrust upon her. Because of her independent nature, she has a bit of a "mentor" streak, and she'll always be the first one to offer advice.
Despite her suaveness, Lavender is an utter mess when it comes to actually becoming interesting in things. She has a bit of an obsessive personality, one that she tries to hide very well. In fact, her entire "cool" personality is just a facade, one built up over the years to keep others away from her. However, no one can quite resist the cool "mysterious" girl, as she has observed. Since she is so good at hiding her entire self, she has also become rather good at telling stories. In fact, Lavender may just be the best liar this side of the afterlife. Fortunate she never uses her power for evil, well almost never.
Place of Origin: Marseille, France
History: Lavender's childhood wasn't necessarily anything different or new, by her times standards. She lived with her mother and her two younger siblings, as her father had been enlisted the army long before Lavender was born. While Lavender grew up in a home that could be considered "upper middle class", France wasn't exactly the happiest place to live in by the time she was five. WWII was in full swing by then, and her homeland became a torn up battlefield. Most of the war was forgotten by Lavender in a haze of repressed memories and her mother's attempts at shielding her from this harsh part of the world. However by the time she was eight the war was over, and her father never managed to make it back home. They never found a body, no one could confirm or deny if he was dead or not, but she and her mother knew what had happened.
As she got older she grew angry, but not in the way everyone believed she was. To her family, Lavender was a bitter girl because a war had destroyed her country and her father's body was no where to be found. Indeed it seemed like everyone, including Lavender's peers, were in a perpetual sadness because of the war. This was expected of course, and that's where Lavender's anger came from. Lavender began to realize that, well, she could quite remember much of anything concerning the war and her father. Repressed memories and a mother devoted to keeping the horrors of the world away from her children left her incapable of remembering events that had happened only years ago. As for her father, the fact that he had been in the army for so long did nothing to help her. What she could remember of him was fuzzy and brief, not exactly the memories one would want from a father. She knew he was tall, she knew he was strong, and she knew she looked a lot like him, but that wasn't enough.
The deep empty spaces in her memories caused Lavender to lash out, she was angry. She felt cheated out of everything, cheated out of a father and cheated out of closure. How could she ever get closure if she didn't remember what made her so sad? Almost every night she would wake up with night terrors from an event she couldn't even fully remember. It was because of this that Lavender never truly came to terms with the war, something she couldn't even remember. As soon as Lavender turned eighteen she left on a boat to Canada, thought not because of any malice towards her family. In fact, her family had been the kindest people she ever met, however Lavender felt she had to distance herself from France if she ever wanted to obtain peace of mind.
She had hopped around for nine years, going to one country after another. Lavender began to mellow out a bit, but the empty feeling still remained. Eventually, she began participating in rallies, protests, just about anything that made her feel like she was truly involved in what was happening to the world. Her anger had been replaced with distance and an ancient tiredness, Lavender had decided on her journeys that she would become a distant participator in life, that way she could never truly miss anything but she wouldn't get emotionally attached anymore. However, despite how tired she was, she couldn't quite turn herself into a robot overnight.
Lavender returned to France in 1964, upon the news of her mother's death. She had been too caught up in traveling to even receive the messages about her mother that were desperately sent to whatever residence she was believed to be residing in. She was so ashamed, and so deeply saddened by her mother's passing. Moreover, she was angry again, angry at herself. Lavender had managed to create another empty hole in her conscious, though she knew this one was entirely her fault. In 1965, Lavender was found drowned in a small lake near her home. Her death was mysterious, all signs pointing to suicide. However, with mysterious bruises on her body and a reputation as a "rioter" her death was never exactly solved. Lavender died as just another hole, she never was good at getting closure.
Lavender wasn't exactly surprised to find herself in the afterlife, though it wasn't exactly a clear situation either. When she was approached by the Goddess,she handled the situation with the grace she had acquired over the years. That is to say, she pretended as if it wasn't exactly a big deal, being chosen to protect something so valuable and all. In truth, she had a childish idea that she'd see her mother and father in the afterlife. She knew it was silly, but she hoped to have at least one chapter of her life end without a question mark.
Quote: "I've tried being true to myself, and I have never been more tired."
EXTRAS
Quarters:
Common Room:
