[To be updated with All CS information here]
“It’s sort of romantic, isn’t it? Kids outnumbered…fighting for something they believe in. Better than HBO, I’d say.”
Name: Helen Fenten a.k.a. Drizzy X
Age: 26
Race/Faction/Abilities: Human / Monarchy of Ulrich / None
Personality/Occupation:
A “wild child” Helen enjoys all things technology, she runs numerous websites and blogs and vlogs daily. She’s not easy to get along with and has been known to say or do whatever she feels, luckily her ability to cope with massive amounts of stress help her deal with the consequences of her poor decision making. She was the last one to actually speak with Avan publicly/ Currently unemployed, Former talk show host of “Alt. Twisted News”
Background:
House Call
“Pleasure without conscience. Knowledge without character. Worship without sacrifice. She’s been guilty of quite a few social sins, and then some.” Mrs. Fenten’s mouth formed a tired smile, her face obscured behind thin spinnerets of smoke, “When I was at three months, I prayed that God give me a strong child. A boy—I wanted one that looked just like his daddy before he passed away, bless his soul. Do you believe in souls? ” she asked, but when she didn’t get an answer, she continued “But,” she took a long, drag on an Old-Fashioned,“I got Helen. And I knew from the very moment she came out, she was meant for something. I wasn’t sure what. But I could tell that God gave me at least half my wish.”
“And, the father?”
“Lung cancer got him a few years ago. One of those long drawn out ordeals, by the time he went we had made our peace; he’s with Jesus now. Do you know who Jesus is? Mary? John the Baptist?” her voice was tensed and as she leaned forward, a crescent of light illuminated the tight brown skin of her forehead, “Look, I ain’t got nothin’ against your kind, but all of this talking is making me tired. So if you don’t mind…”
“As you wish.”
The scraping of metal feet on kitchen tile and a sudden groan of the heavy oak table sliding out of place, “Wait. Please… Please, this is very hard for me. Do you know where she is? If you do, just tell me. She’s been missing for a week—you said it would be best not to get the authorities involved and I haven’t!” she gripped with both hands at the edge of his collar “Helen was a nice girl. I’m not saying she’s perfect, but she’s got a good heart. Please give her back--”
“I don’t have her. But I believe she’s safe.”
“Damn you, O’Shalna! You’re going to Hell if anything happens to her. I trusted you! Even after seeing on the six o’clock news—drugs, orgies, satanic music—had I known Helen was going to be dragged down that path—when I called you into my home I expected more answers!” In a fit of passion she slaps him.
A sharp, ugly sound that hangs thick in the air between them. The hand print, pinkish and small on the man’s cheek fades quickly. Calmly, he smooths down the front of his uniform.
“My brother isn’t perfect either Mrs. Fenten,” His voice is cool and indifferent, he runs a hand to smooth the hairs that had strayed out of place “Thanks for the tea.”
"You better watch your back Damian," she cries helplessly after him, "-- you and that God awful brother, too!"
“It’s sort of romantic, isn’t it? Kids outnumbered…fighting for something they believe in. Better than HBO, I’d say.”
Name: Helen Fenten a.k.a. Drizzy X
Age: 26
Race/Faction/Abilities: Human / Monarchy of Ulrich / None
Personality/Occupation:
A “wild child” Helen enjoys all things technology, she runs numerous websites and blogs and vlogs daily. She’s not easy to get along with and has been known to say or do whatever she feels, luckily her ability to cope with massive amounts of stress help her deal with the consequences of her poor decision making. She was the last one to actually speak with Avan publicly/ Currently unemployed, Former talk show host of “Alt. Twisted News”
Background:
House Call
“Pleasure without conscience. Knowledge without character. Worship without sacrifice. She’s been guilty of quite a few social sins, and then some.” Mrs. Fenten’s mouth formed a tired smile, her face obscured behind thin spinnerets of smoke, “When I was at three months, I prayed that God give me a strong child. A boy—I wanted one that looked just like his daddy before he passed away, bless his soul. Do you believe in souls? ” she asked, but when she didn’t get an answer, she continued “But,” she took a long, drag on an Old-Fashioned,“I got Helen. And I knew from the very moment she came out, she was meant for something. I wasn’t sure what. But I could tell that God gave me at least half my wish.”
“And, the father?”
“Lung cancer got him a few years ago. One of those long drawn out ordeals, by the time he went we had made our peace; he’s with Jesus now. Do you know who Jesus is? Mary? John the Baptist?” her voice was tensed and as she leaned forward, a crescent of light illuminated the tight brown skin of her forehead, “Look, I ain’t got nothin’ against your kind, but all of this talking is making me tired. So if you don’t mind…”
“As you wish.”
The scraping of metal feet on kitchen tile and a sudden groan of the heavy oak table sliding out of place, “Wait. Please… Please, this is very hard for me. Do you know where she is? If you do, just tell me. She’s been missing for a week—you said it would be best not to get the authorities involved and I haven’t!” she gripped with both hands at the edge of his collar “Helen was a nice girl. I’m not saying she’s perfect, but she’s got a good heart. Please give her back--”
“I don’t have her. But I believe she’s safe.”
“Damn you, O’Shalna! You’re going to Hell if anything happens to her. I trusted you! Even after seeing on the six o’clock news—drugs, orgies, satanic music—had I known Helen was going to be dragged down that path—when I called you into my home I expected more answers!” In a fit of passion she slaps him.
A sharp, ugly sound that hangs thick in the air between them. The hand print, pinkish and small on the man’s cheek fades quickly. Calmly, he smooths down the front of his uniform.
“My brother isn’t perfect either Mrs. Fenten,” His voice is cool and indifferent, he runs a hand to smooth the hairs that had strayed out of place “Thanks for the tea.”
"You better watch your back Damian," she cries helplessly after him, "-- you and that God awful brother, too!"
