NPC descriptions and approved characters shall be posted here!
Eventually something more interesting will be in this spot, haha!
Eventually something more interesting will be in this spot, haha!
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RedXCross Dig, Dig, Dig...
Member
Seen
8 mos ago
25 Pre-mortem | Male
A man whose individuality and love of performance lifts him to his triumphs and drops him to his demise.
Appearance:
Standing triumphantly at six feet, he wears his hair in messy black-brown spikes that appear to stick up in all directions. Don't be fooled; it may look like bedhead but it is perfectly intentional. Everything Aster does is about presentation. His emerald eyes are vibrant and perceptive, the curious black marks from the corners of his eyes drawn on just to throw people off, the large golden rings looped through his ears, and he's always seen with a brilliant grin. His physique is that of the acrobat: it isn't bulky and demanding of strength, but rather smooth, planned out to the extreme, and more prepped for flexibility than anything else. Aster is the definition of a sunny complexion, and his tanned skin only adds to this interest.
His clothing style is always extravagant. He loves extra fabrics like capes and other things, and he'll always try to wear the most obstructive and blinding color schemes if he can. From pants with patches of all different colors covering their numerous holes to a two-sided jacket with one sleeve in red and the other in blue. His wardrobe comes across as though he decided to roll around in a tailor's shop for a few hours and left with whatever was sticking to him. The only consistency to his outfits are the black high-cut boots and the dove pendant around his neck.
Personality:
Optimistic | Dramatic | Rebellious | Obnoxious
Practically since the day he was born, Aster always had a flair for the dramatic. He would jump into random places and declare that his "one-man act" was beginning, or he'd round up some other poor schmucks in the area to perform with him. Sometimes the shows were brilliant and hilarious, and sometimes they were awful, but he would end it all in laughter or with a smile. He doesn't care about quality. He admires passion and adores people who follow their dreams, but he hates people who attempt to trap you into a regime, or people who choose to succumb to the status quo.
Ast's worst nightmare was waking up and thinking that he'd given up on acting at some point. That was why he was always performing, always spouting his opinions as loud as possible, and encouraging others to do the same. Aster was seen as a "bad influence" because of his out-of-the-box behaviour. People didn't want him giving others ideas about how things should be or about what freedom looks like.
In his own opinion, it was a matter of happiness. If you weren't free to do all the things you really wanted to do, then were you truly happy? He hates wars for this reason and also dislikes authoritative governments that try and micromanage all aspects of their people's lives. As such, Aster tended to ignore the laws established by kingdoms, at least if they didn't harm anyone else.
Aster lived every day in fear that he would fall into obscurity, or that people would forget about him. He really wants to be an icon for artists and people everywhere who were trying to follow their dreams.
Beyond this, he really is obnoxious. It's very difficult to get him to stop talking, he'll interrupt anyone at a moment's notice, he will never miss a moment for a joke, and often his plans are over-elaborate. He also isn't very smart about things beyond acting. Mechanicks are quite beyond him and don't even try to ask him a math question. He will just drown you out.
Biography:
Aster grew up with a father and mother who loved him dearly and encouraged him to be who he wanted to be. Being members of a small village along the sea's coast, his dad was a dedicated fisherman, though Aster had no interest in that. He saw a need in that place for some joy, so he thought his skills would be best put to the test there. So he grew up in this small town, always scribbling down jokes or trying to craft one-man performances so that he could cheer people up. For a while, that's exactly what happened. He'd have a performance ready for when all the fishermen came back from their days, and he would fill the town with laughter.
Then, for about a year, there wasn't anything. Around his 17th birthday, there was a disastrous storm that came out of nowhere. That day he was setting up his small space in town for "the greatest performance of all time" (he said this every week.) but when the time came around, no one came back. Days later they found the wreckage of one of the fishing boats on a nearby beach, and that was all the proof they needed. They were all dead, lost in the dredges of the sea.
Aster tried his hardest to console his mother, who cried for days after they discovered the truth, and was never really the same. Aster's jokes didn't raise her spirits like they used to, and in time he had to take over for his father, just to make sure his family could continue eating. But after that day, his mother started to get sick. And she never really got better. A doctor told Aster that it was an illness that most could power through, but his mother just didn't have the will to continue. Throughout this whole time, even when they had sent for aid from the kingdom to keep the fishing going after losing most of their best fishermen, the kingdom never did anything to help.
Aster held one final performance in that town in memory of his mother, and like always he finished with a smile on his face, trying to ignore the tears falling from his eyes, then he went towards the capital of the kingdom. It was time that he used his skills for something different.
From there, his writing of shows improved, and his acting, in general, became much stronger. He found a group of fellow thespians in the capital, all of whom knew that they could use their skills to speak to the people, so he formed the Crooked Crown Players, a group that advocated the use of theatre to make a difference. Many of their shows made fun of those in charge, of the monarch (president? elected official? whatever?) and his inability to lead their kingdom. This shocked many people, and was encouraging to some others, but these shows started to get attention from the higher powers, and it led to many a screaming match between the thespians and the guards. There were many attempted arrests, there were few actual arrests, but their troupe became very good at evading authority, holding guerilla shows, and infuriating the government.
His last show came about a few months after he'd turned 25. Aster wrote the most brilliant satire alive, and they'd discovered secrets in the kingdom that were more than enough to show that they were incompetent and holding the people back from freedom. Aster called it his magnum opus, and the show attracted thousands to a dark underside of the kingdom. It was labelled an "anarchist rally", but really it was all just a show. Named after themselves: "His Crooked Crown".
Someone had tipped off the authorities to where the show was happening. Just after it finished the barged in and tried to grab everyone, but Aster stepped forward and said that he deserved all the blame for everything that happened there. With some negotiating, he got his troupe out of it with some jail time, and the rest of the people took a slap on the risk. In exchange, the monarch would make an example of the lead player.
The gallows were attended by all that afternoon. A rather sunny day with a few clouds in the sky. The man announcing his name titled him "the Disgraceful Player" as the noose was fitted around his neck. A smile was plastered to Aster's face for the whole time, and when he was asked for last words, he had one thing to say:
"Always follow your dreams, no matter the obstacles that stand in your way."
The act ended with the floor falling out from beneath his feet, the few seconds of all oxygen being pressed out of his body, and then darkness.
But apparently, this is a play with two acts...
Doctor Quinn Howell
"An eccentric doctor whose reputation lands him at the cutting end of a failed, illegal operation that warrants his murder."
Appearance: To say Dr. Quinn Howell is tall would not be a lie. However, he is really only a mere couple inches above the average height of a fully grown man. Therefore, it is easier to just say he is simply average height since the two inches don’t really make much of a difference, and his particularity of assuming pride in his height will always be lacking in any of his discernible interests. The same falter of enthusiasm could also be noted in the basic appearance of his wardrobe. He is not a peasant by any means, but the royal pomp of an upper class gentleman has somehow eluded the slightly eccentric man’s style. He has much more important things to worry about then his clothes matching the latest fashion of the season. However, he is always clean and presentable in a well-groomed manner, because a dirty and poorly maintained man would not be a sustainable doctor in practice.
His eyes are darker than his hair, but his hair isn’t really much lighter than his russet eyes, so to speak. If anyone were to take notice of the shading differences, then it was probably a fair guess to assume too much time was spent studying the appearance of the doctor. Contrasting his dark eyes and hair, is his rather fair complexion.
Dr. Quinn believes in “a sound soul resides in a sound mind and a sound body.” Keeping physically in shape as well as mentally keen is because he thinks his practice may only run smoothly if he is not hypocritically administering advice to his patients. He may look young for a 29 year old with his high cheek bones, a defined square jaw, and a slight ski lift nose, but he is by far from being a quack of a doctor. If anything, he may take his profession much too seriously (for good reason, no less!).
Personality: If Dr. Quinn’s eccentric behavior was to go unnoticed by people who came across him in conversation, his darker leaning sense of humor would often be a staple of recognition. Sarcasm and self-deprecating dry humor seem to be his external relief when dealing with his starker nervous habit of persistently seeing the human condition fail against its fight for existence and the inevitable disease of death. Nonetheless, as quirks of the eccentric went, his mouth was not set in a permanent frown despite his disposition to notice the worst. A frowning doctor is not a very good doctor, in Dr. Quinn’s opinion, but to off-set his opinion, he is always quick to remind himself that neither is an air-headed doctor. By no means is he a perfect doctor, but the goal to be level, concise, and stoic in the moment of panic—especially in front of the operating table—will be forever engraved in his mind because despite his oddity, the man has a very compassionate heart and only wants to help people.
Biography: Quinn is the oldest of two sons born from a decent family living in the outskirts of the upper class society in the capital of the kingdom. The ability to climb higher on the social ladder was always readily available if the right thought and practice was put to work. However, Dr. Quinn was less contemplative about climbing social ladders and bettering his life in the means of wealth. He really just wanted to help people while also stretching his intellect.
His younger brother had been a sickly child, who eventually passed onto the next life before either of the boys were able to reach adulthood. There was devastation to follow the death, but surprise was withheld when the family physician announced the news to the family. The poor boy had held on longer to life than anyone had expected. Much of the gifted years granted to the family were given by the family physician.
There was always a strange hope that the family physician always brought whenever he came to visit. Despite the grim circumstances, the physician was always carrying a small light of possibility, and as often as the physician visited, Dr. Quinn, as a young boy, could not help but become more intrigued with the powers the man brought with him into the household each time he came through the front door. For such reasons, Dr. Quinn had passionately pursued the art of medicine and surgery. If not to remind himself of his late, younger brother but to try and emulate the nature of the doctor who had dedicated much of his time into selflessly trying to save a dying boy.
With the use of the social ladder and hard work, Dr. Quinn did very good for himself during the short amount of time he spent as a surgeon. To say he was getting famous may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but he was indeed getting recognized for his innovative practices and procedures. Unfortunately, it was his fast growing reputation that lead to his eventual downfall. The kingdom, in Dr. Quinn’s impression, was not perfect, and crime and such governmental abuse did exist. However, the naïve doctor who had spent most of his childhood in a seriously studious manner, did not understand the dark alleys and underground workings of the kingdom’s cities. He was first approached by an older man offering a good sum of money to make use of Dr. Quinn’s skill set, but there was a catch: the operation would be pushing the envelope towards an illegal subset. Dr. Quinn, of course, refused. Not only was it illegal, but he was not practicing for monetary gain. If he had known more about the inner-workings of the kingdom and its criminal network, he may have been more cautious during the next several weeks, but such was not the case.
It was late at night, a week or two after the illegal proposal, when Dr. Quinn made his usual venture back towards his living place after work, when he was attacked, kidnapped, and relocated to some unknown location outside his usual knowledge of the kingdom. He was not sure how long he had been unconscious, but when he did awaken, he found himself being threatened by a group of men asking him to perform some illegal (and extremely risky) operating procedure on a well-known Duke who had purchased the parts, steam work, and a heart from the kingdom’s notoriously unspoken black market. Details were blurry, but the process seemed like one that had happened many more times than just this once. The portentous layout that had trapped Dr. Quinn was easily summed up in the command of: perform the operation or die. There really was nothing Dr. Quinn could do but comply, but as fate would have it, the operation was unsuccessful. The Duke died before being sewn back together, and the last thing Dr. Quinn heard before staring into the barrel of a gun aimed at his head, was the turning of valves in a loaded weapon. His last moment of thought was whether he would have been killed regardless of how the operation had finished. Ultimately, his death was subsequently swept under the rug as a justifiable suicide of a young, overworked surgeon, and the kingdom resumed its usual routines. No questions were asked.
His eyes are darker than his hair, but his hair isn’t really much lighter than his russet eyes, so to speak. If anyone were to take notice of the shading differences, then it was probably a fair guess to assume too much time was spent studying the appearance of the doctor. Contrasting his dark eyes and hair, is his rather fair complexion.
Dr. Quinn believes in “a sound soul resides in a sound mind and a sound body.” Keeping physically in shape as well as mentally keen is because he thinks his practice may only run smoothly if he is not hypocritically administering advice to his patients. He may look young for a 29 year old with his high cheek bones, a defined square jaw, and a slight ski lift nose, but he is by far from being a quack of a doctor. If anything, he may take his profession much too seriously (for good reason, no less!).
Personality: If Dr. Quinn’s eccentric behavior was to go unnoticed by people who came across him in conversation, his darker leaning sense of humor would often be a staple of recognition. Sarcasm and self-deprecating dry humor seem to be his external relief when dealing with his starker nervous habit of persistently seeing the human condition fail against its fight for existence and the inevitable disease of death. Nonetheless, as quirks of the eccentric went, his mouth was not set in a permanent frown despite his disposition to notice the worst. A frowning doctor is not a very good doctor, in Dr. Quinn’s opinion, but to off-set his opinion, he is always quick to remind himself that neither is an air-headed doctor. By no means is he a perfect doctor, but the goal to be level, concise, and stoic in the moment of panic—especially in front of the operating table—will be forever engraved in his mind because despite his oddity, the man has a very compassionate heart and only wants to help people.
Biography: Quinn is the oldest of two sons born from a decent family living in the outskirts of the upper class society in the capital of the kingdom. The ability to climb higher on the social ladder was always readily available if the right thought and practice was put to work. However, Dr. Quinn was less contemplative about climbing social ladders and bettering his life in the means of wealth. He really just wanted to help people while also stretching his intellect.
His younger brother had been a sickly child, who eventually passed onto the next life before either of the boys were able to reach adulthood. There was devastation to follow the death, but surprise was withheld when the family physician announced the news to the family. The poor boy had held on longer to life than anyone had expected. Much of the gifted years granted to the family were given by the family physician.
There was always a strange hope that the family physician always brought whenever he came to visit. Despite the grim circumstances, the physician was always carrying a small light of possibility, and as often as the physician visited, Dr. Quinn, as a young boy, could not help but become more intrigued with the powers the man brought with him into the household each time he came through the front door. For such reasons, Dr. Quinn had passionately pursued the art of medicine and surgery. If not to remind himself of his late, younger brother but to try and emulate the nature of the doctor who had dedicated much of his time into selflessly trying to save a dying boy.
With the use of the social ladder and hard work, Dr. Quinn did very good for himself during the short amount of time he spent as a surgeon. To say he was getting famous may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but he was indeed getting recognized for his innovative practices and procedures. Unfortunately, it was his fast growing reputation that lead to his eventual downfall. The kingdom, in Dr. Quinn’s impression, was not perfect, and crime and such governmental abuse did exist. However, the naïve doctor who had spent most of his childhood in a seriously studious manner, did not understand the dark alleys and underground workings of the kingdom’s cities. He was first approached by an older man offering a good sum of money to make use of Dr. Quinn’s skill set, but there was a catch: the operation would be pushing the envelope towards an illegal subset. Dr. Quinn, of course, refused. Not only was it illegal, but he was not practicing for monetary gain. If he had known more about the inner-workings of the kingdom and its criminal network, he may have been more cautious during the next several weeks, but such was not the case.
It was late at night, a week or two after the illegal proposal, when Dr. Quinn made his usual venture back towards his living place after work, when he was attacked, kidnapped, and relocated to some unknown location outside his usual knowledge of the kingdom. He was not sure how long he had been unconscious, but when he did awaken, he found himself being threatened by a group of men asking him to perform some illegal (and extremely risky) operating procedure on a well-known Duke who had purchased the parts, steam work, and a heart from the kingdom’s notoriously unspoken black market. Details were blurry, but the process seemed like one that had happened many more times than just this once. The portentous layout that had trapped Dr. Quinn was easily summed up in the command of: perform the operation or die. There really was nothing Dr. Quinn could do but comply, but as fate would have it, the operation was unsuccessful. The Duke died before being sewn back together, and the last thing Dr. Quinn heard before staring into the barrel of a gun aimed at his head, was the turning of valves in a loaded weapon. His last moment of thought was whether he would have been killed regardless of how the operation had finished. Ultimately, his death was subsequently swept under the rug as a justifiable suicide of a young, overworked surgeon, and the kingdom resumed its usual routines. No questions were asked.
Vesuvius00 ~| Guardian of Flame |~ / ~| Superhero |~
Member
Seen
6 days ago
~Hitomi Sora~
"Sometimes your imagination plays tricks on you. Sometimes it doesn't. Knowing the difference can save your life."Name:
(First) Sora
(Last) Hitomi
Age: 18 Pre-mortem
Gender: male
Appearance: Doesn't matter. If you see me, it's too late.
He is 5'4" and weighs approximately 115 pounds. With pale blue eyes and Raven black hair, he will often wear a mask covering the rest of his face and neck. He has a tattoo on his left shoulder of a golden cross, and wears an earring of the same design in his right ear. In his left ear he wears a stud earring with a ruby gem on it. He has (now had) multiple scars, however the most interesting or important of which were burn scars that he had all across his back and torso, and a scar from a puncture wound on the back of his right thigh, close enough to the knee to be seen if he wears shorts. These scars are no longer on his body, but they were before his death, and they used to be a large part of himself and so he may act like he is still scarred.
Hobbies: Wandering about, observing others or spending time alone. If I am certain there is no one around I'll sing quietly to myself. I enjoy music, and nature. I also somewhat enjoy spending time with "friends". People tend to become predictable over time, I like to observe how their nature changes in any given situation.
Dislikes: Excessive questions or interest in myself by others, noisy animals (or loud noises in general), Snow in general, and crowds or crowded places.
Other Info: What else is there to say?
He doesn't speak much about himself, however to anyone who tries to ask it is obvious why. Sora values privacy, and identity. He finds it easier to go through life a mystery to others, so that others cannot define him in terms that they would a "normal person". Doing this, he's able to act in inhuman ways, justifying his actions to himself with this and showing little emotion in situations that would cause most others fear or remorse. Sora believes this detachment will help him to grow stronger, and it did for a time.
But then he died.
What, you were expecting something happy?
yeah, yeah i'm an undertale nerd. it's a good game, the fandom's just bad
P.S.: He was an assassin before death, I'm not sure if I'll write in a bio for him later or not. just consider this the full CS and I'll re-post it in the OOC and just edit it here if I do choose to add one.
Name: Kazuki "Kazu"
Age: 13
Abstract: Kazuki is an energetic and positive child, with a wealth of imagination and creativity, and an often unrestrained, adventurous nature. He can be very confident and even a bit brash in the moment, but is actually quite scrappy for his size, and is sometimes too clever for his own good. Despite being a dirty little brat, Kazuki has surprisingly good manners, and is very cooperative and helpful if he's taken seriously.
Detail: Kazuki was born and grew up an orphan, abandoned by his mother at the stoop of an old church, that could only manage to take care of him up to the age of 8. Afterwards, he began to roam the streets and fend for himself like so many other street urchins. After so many years of being clever and lucky, Kazu finally found his end during one of that year's harsher winter storms. It's awfully hard to stay warm outdoors, and before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep in an alley somewhere and froze to death.
Extra: Kazuki really likes cats and rice, and hates the cold.
Age: 13
Abstract: Kazuki is an energetic and positive child, with a wealth of imagination and creativity, and an often unrestrained, adventurous nature. He can be very confident and even a bit brash in the moment, but is actually quite scrappy for his size, and is sometimes too clever for his own good. Despite being a dirty little brat, Kazuki has surprisingly good manners, and is very cooperative and helpful if he's taken seriously.
Detail: Kazuki was born and grew up an orphan, abandoned by his mother at the stoop of an old church, that could only manage to take care of him up to the age of 8. Afterwards, he began to roam the streets and fend for himself like so many other street urchins. After so many years of being clever and lucky, Kazu finally found his end during one of that year's harsher winter storms. It's awfully hard to stay warm outdoors, and before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep in an alley somewhere and froze to death.
Extra: Kazuki really likes cats and rice, and hates the cold.
Cute Bumber daBumba! Yeeeyah!
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
*~*~*
Age: 17
*~*~*
Abstract:
I am that pretty messed up, pretty wild, pretty pink princess riding the Whiskers of The PussyCatta set on a collision course with the nether regions intersecting Oblivion, Ecstasy and Paradise and try as you will, you just cannot leash this undeterred, unstoppable, underling Whiskering royal bitch. ( she tells herself when she's high).
That uppity but nice enough girl even though she gives her family name a black eye since they always seem to try to cover up "misguided actions" due to her "problematic behaviour" (they say when she's sobering up).
*~*~*
Lady Delany Ambrosina Wentalworth.
Age: 17
*~*~*
Abstract:
I am that pretty messed up, pretty wild, pretty pink princess riding the Whiskers of The PussyCatta set on a collision course with the nether regions intersecting Oblivion, Ecstasy and Paradise and try as you will, you just cannot leash this undeterred, unstoppable, underling Whiskering royal bitch. ( she tells herself when she's high).
That uppity but nice enough girl even though she gives her family name a black eye since they always seem to try to cover up "misguided actions" due to her "problematic behaviour" (they say when she's sobering up).
*~*~*
Ever wonder who you really are when you stare into that looking glass? No, really. Who is that really?
That is not me in that white frilly gown staring back at me. I am not that little girl in there: silvery flowing locks, icy blue eyes, plump lips, button nose, all upon porcelain skin. I am not that... that "Dolly" thing. No, I am not your plaything, Daddy. I am not so Royal. I am not. I cannot even stare into those eyes for I know they lie, lie, lie, just like that false Wentalworth family grin that pervades our liars family castle.
I am what they made me to be; I am that damned princess through and through. All my years, all my tears, all my fears, oh but Mummy, I pray thee to more than what this lone and singularity of a child could ever bring you. I know you taught me well. But shame is all I return to you. I know there were those years that I loved you so dearly; oh but Mummy I loved you more than any during those illicit and blissful times. I know you want me to bear your grandchildren, but oh how shameful that I shan't. And it is not because this frail Dolly cannot bear to breed. No, Mummy it is because this Woman-childling cannot bear to take the seed for I only love the flower. And it is from this shame, I know you know, that I am a Whiskering one. When and in those time of what you call lucidity, I hear you telling me to rid of my Daemon's crutch.
But it is not a Daemon's crutch, Mummy. Even Daddy says so. He knows what it is. They call it the PussyCatta. It is my greatest love and my greatest humiliation... I admit this only because I loved you once more than anything during those irreverent and blameless times. And now... and now I play dress up for you Mummy. Unlike playing dress down for Daddy. And now here I stand in front of this looking glass and look at that... that frail whelp staring back at me. That whelp in the mirror... I cannot look into its eyes for I know it still loves you, Mummy. It dressed up for you so that it would look all "prim and proper, ladylike and precious on her day to greet her chosen suitor."
But look closer, Mummy. There do you see it? No? No, of course not. Here let me help you. Time to get Whiskering then. Oh, see the Catalyst crystals? Now let me melt them. No longer Catalyst and now they are turning into the PussyCatta. See now how I place them into these vials ending in 5 sharp needles-- oh but Mummy! How clever you are! Oh dear, how rather amusing then! You do get it for they do look like the five claws of a cat! Catalyst. Cat. PussyCatta. How utterly drole. Now then. Why do they call it "Whiskering...?" Watch. See how I squeeze this and the fluid sprays away the air bubbles? What does it look like? Whiskers yes, sort of. But that's just the visual. It's acutally the sensation, Mummy. When I inject it into my tummy... wait, this area is too scarred with Kitty-tracks... ahhh! Here. Now when I inject this into my tumm-- ooooooooohhhhhhhh... ohhhh, Mummy... it feels like I'm sliding now, Mummy... sliding down the Whiskers of the PussyCatta... sliding... sliding down, Mummy. And so now-- oh! Hear that? No? Well look into the looking glass, Mummy. Do you see it?
Look beyond that whelp in there. Look into those icy blues now, Mummy. There is no more frailty. Oh, you see it now don't you? It calls me to it, Mummy. It knows me so well. It takes me away when Daddy takes me away. And now do you see? Oh, how lovely I am. I am your angel. I am, Mummy. Don't you see my wings? Oh but I must fly to him. He waits for me down below. Upon his horse... a riding horse he rides and soon to ride me like a whore till I breed. But wait till he sees me. I can fly. I can. That's what she tells me.
LoPangan is her name. She says its time to fly now. I love you, Mummy. I still do... but you are wrong. LoPangan is not a delusion of a devil from this so-called "addiction" of mine. No, Mummy, LoPangan is real. And she gives me powers. Watch me, Mummy. I know you are down there too in the courtyard. You will all see. By the power of the PussyCatta, LoPangan has made me an ANGEL! Your angel, Mummy. Look up, Mummy! Look at me I'm waving to you from my tower window. Oh, you are waving back! Now watch, Mummy. Oh, silly... don't you fret, tremble and scream. That is not prim and proper. Just watch me, Mummy. I can fly. I can FLY!!
Here now, Mummy. Here comes your angel.
That is not me in that white frilly gown staring back at me. I am not that little girl in there: silvery flowing locks, icy blue eyes, plump lips, button nose, all upon porcelain skin. I am not that... that "Dolly" thing. No, I am not your plaything, Daddy. I am not so Royal. I am not. I cannot even stare into those eyes for I know they lie, lie, lie, just like that false Wentalworth family grin that pervades our liars family castle.
I am what they made me to be; I am that damned princess through and through. All my years, all my tears, all my fears, oh but Mummy, I pray thee to more than what this lone and singularity of a child could ever bring you. I know you taught me well. But shame is all I return to you. I know there were those years that I loved you so dearly; oh but Mummy I loved you more than any during those illicit and blissful times. I know you want me to bear your grandchildren, but oh how shameful that I shan't. And it is not because this frail Dolly cannot bear to breed. No, Mummy it is because this Woman-childling cannot bear to take the seed for I only love the flower. And it is from this shame, I know you know, that I am a Whiskering one. When and in those time of what you call lucidity, I hear you telling me to rid of my Daemon's crutch.
But it is not a Daemon's crutch, Mummy. Even Daddy says so. He knows what it is. They call it the PussyCatta. It is my greatest love and my greatest humiliation... I admit this only because I loved you once more than anything during those irreverent and blameless times. And now... and now I play dress up for you Mummy. Unlike playing dress down for Daddy. And now here I stand in front of this looking glass and look at that... that frail whelp staring back at me. That whelp in the mirror... I cannot look into its eyes for I know it still loves you, Mummy. It dressed up for you so that it would look all "prim and proper, ladylike and precious on her day to greet her chosen suitor."
But look closer, Mummy. There do you see it? No? No, of course not. Here let me help you. Time to get Whiskering then. Oh, see the Catalyst crystals? Now let me melt them. No longer Catalyst and now they are turning into the PussyCatta. See now how I place them into these vials ending in 5 sharp needles-- oh but Mummy! How clever you are! Oh dear, how rather amusing then! You do get it for they do look like the five claws of a cat! Catalyst. Cat. PussyCatta. How utterly drole. Now then. Why do they call it "Whiskering...?" Watch. See how I squeeze this and the fluid sprays away the air bubbles? What does it look like? Whiskers yes, sort of. But that's just the visual. It's acutally the sensation, Mummy. When I inject it into my tummy... wait, this area is too scarred with Kitty-tracks... ahhh! Here. Now when I inject this into my tumm-- ooooooooohhhhhhhh... ohhhh, Mummy... it feels like I'm sliding now, Mummy... sliding down the Whiskers of the PussyCatta... sliding... sliding down, Mummy. And so now-- oh! Hear that? No? Well look into the looking glass, Mummy. Do you see it?
Look beyond that whelp in there. Look into those icy blues now, Mummy. There is no more frailty. Oh, you see it now don't you? It calls me to it, Mummy. It knows me so well. It takes me away when Daddy takes me away. And now do you see? Oh, how lovely I am. I am your angel. I am, Mummy. Don't you see my wings? Oh but I must fly to him. He waits for me down below. Upon his horse... a riding horse he rides and soon to ride me like a whore till I breed. But wait till he sees me. I can fly. I can. That's what she tells me.
LoPangan is her name. She says its time to fly now. I love you, Mummy. I still do... but you are wrong. LoPangan is not a delusion of a devil from this so-called "addiction" of mine. No, Mummy, LoPangan is real. And she gives me powers. Watch me, Mummy. I know you are down there too in the courtyard. You will all see. By the power of the PussyCatta, LoPangan has made me an ANGEL! Your angel, Mummy. Look up, Mummy! Look at me I'm waving to you from my tower window. Oh, you are waving back! Now watch, Mummy. Oh, silly... don't you fret, tremble and scream. That is not prim and proper. Just watch me, Mummy. I can fly. I can FLY!!
Here now, Mummy. Here comes your angel.
*~*~*
Personality:
(+) Happy, Capricious, Helpful, Polite, Hard-working, Aims to please.
(-) Curious, Non-confrontational, Lonely, In-the-Closet, Aims to please.
*~*~*
Skills:
Noblesse Etiquette, Horse riding/care/breeding, Grooming, Stitching/sewing, Archery, Dancing/Singing, Reading/Writing, Painting, Narcotic use (Catalyst Crystals)
*~*~*
Obstacles:
Drug Addiction, Repression due to sexual abuse by father and being “in-the-closet,” a Pushover to those whom she trusts/admires, and even though disdains the life of a noble, she is a bit snooty and uppity in terms of being 'prim and proper.'
Personality:
(+) Happy, Capricious, Helpful, Polite, Hard-working, Aims to please.
(-) Curious, Non-confrontational, Lonely, In-the-Closet, Aims to please.
*~*~*
Skills:
Noblesse Etiquette, Horse riding/care/breeding, Grooming, Stitching/sewing, Archery, Dancing/Singing, Reading/Writing, Painting, Narcotic use (Catalyst Crystals)
*~*~*
Obstacles:
Drug Addiction, Repression due to sexual abuse by father and being “in-the-closet,” a Pushover to those whom she trusts/admires, and even though disdains the life of a noble, she is a bit snooty and uppity in terms of being 'prim and proper.'
TearfulResonant
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
Mina Neuville
A passionate inventor who spent the entirety of her short life desperate to escape her brother's ever-looming shadow.
Age: 23 at the time of her death
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Mina is more-or-less average height and build, maybe somewhat on the muscular side as a result of the manual labor often required when working with machines. Her dark brown hair is usually kept short to avoid getting in the way, and more often than not is a tangled mess since she has more important things to do than worry about combing it. She has a tan complexion and a very plain-looking round face. Her thin eyes are a slightly lighter shade of brown than her hair, and no matter how much sleep she gets there are always dark circles beneath them, which are easily noticeable since she doesn't bother with makeup. She doesn't put much thought into clothes, either, just electing to wear whatever is most practical. She's also a little nearsighted, and frequently wore glasses before her death.
Personality:
Mina is a very competitive woman. She treats nearly everything as a contest between her and everyone else, and is committed to come out on top. While this sometimes works to her advantage by giving her the motivation to give her all at everything she does, it more often only serves to feed her sense of inferiority.
Determination is another key aspect of Mina's character. If she has a goal to work toward you can bet she'll do everything in her power to reach it, and will refuse to give up no matter what the circumstances are. On the other hand, this sometimes causes her to behave stubbornly.
Unlike many people, who keep their feelings to themselves and hide behind a mask, Mina's emotions are almost always visible on the surface. She'll cry when she's sad, laugh when she's happy, and when she's angry she'll let you know. She also has little respect for formality and decorum when it comes to people she dislikes, and so can act rather rudely at times.
Background:
Born to a wealthy family of entrepreneurs as Vilhelmina Juliet Williams, Mina had a mostly stress-free early childhood. She spent some of her time learning from private tutors hired by her parents, and most of the rest getting into trouble with her older brother Nicholas, who she idolized, at least for a time. Though Mina maintained a close relationship with her parents, she always felt as if they loved and praised Nicholas more than her, a feeling that only grew more and more as time went on. So she became determined to beat him in some way.
Then, not long before her eleventh birthday, both her parents were unexpectedly killed. Though the initial investigation and local newspaper considered possible foul play might be involved, no evidence could be found of this and it was ultimately written off as a freak accident, with most of the details kept under wraps.
Mina and her brother were taken in by Dr. Francis Neuville, a skilled mechaniker and close friend of their father's. There the two of them gained an appreciation for machines and a love for working with them. They became apprentices to their adoptive father and passionately learned everything they could about his craft, adopting his last name for themselves somewhere along the way.
Still, even now Mina couldn't surpass her brother. Nicholas was better at working with machines than she was, and so earned more of Dr. Neuville's praises. No matter how hard she tried, her creations were inferior to his. She grew ever more resentful.
In a grand attempt to prove she could be better than him, she spent months secretly building a small steam-powered boat of her own design. When she took it to sea to test it, at first it worked perfectly, just as she'd planned. She felt like she'd finally won. But in her emotional high she failed to notice a critical problem with the steam engine. It quickly malfunctioned, leaving her stranded in the middle of nowhere with no way to paddle the boat. She waited a day and a half before recognizing no one would be coming to rescue her, finally realizing her only chance at survival was to swim back to shore. She drowned before she came close.
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