AmethystDagger

Word association Game!

Dim

Amethyst's 1×1 Thread (F Seeking M) 18+ [Updated! 2/4/18]

Bump!! Looking once again!

Rise of the Evos

@Nallore

My post with BlueSky will be up later today. :D We only need to finish the ending.

Rise of the Evos

@Lord Wraith

Thank you! Your post was great, I'm excited for possible interaction between Cynthia and Gideon.

Rise of the Evos

Cynthia Markov

_{^{Seattle, Washington | 9:00 a.m. |}}

---

---

The gore was immense, but it didn't leave the slimy feeling on the surface of Cynthia's skin. No, that was the aftereffect of the hooded figure’s gaze. It turned to them all, and though Cynthia couldn't make out its face, she knew it was watching their reactions with a sick fascination.

Cynthia screeched as she woke, something that was so unlike her. Her head slammed against her headboard as she shot up from her vulnerable position, and she groaned as it began to throb. She reached out blindly, her fingers splayed out on the varnished surface of her bedside table until she groped a small pill bottle. She pulled it towards her face, her chest still heaving as if she had just run a marathon. It was her pain medication, a bottle she had acquired after being sent to the hospital. She shook the opaque white tub, little pain relievers rattling around on the inside, making their presence known.

She tugged her knees up to her chest, staring down the bottle as if it could stare back. It offered her dreamless sleep...but she had work. She could call in sick, again, but she had a case and that was top priority. For now, at least. She slammed the pill bottle back down into its place, beneath her silver lamp. She looked down at her tangled, grey sheets, that were soiled with sweat. Groaning, Cynthia kicked them off of the bed, and into a pile on the floor. Already, her morning routine had been thwarted. There would be no crisply made bed to come home to, she would have to sleep on a bare mattress until her covers were clean. She felt defeated, and disgusting. The film of its haunting gaze clogged her every pore, suffocating her without ever needing to block her airway. She craved cleanliness.

She pushed onwards, stabilizing herself against an oaken bedpost before shuffling forward and into her bathroom. The stand-up shower awaited her, and she deviated from her usual routine yet again by cranking on the hot water without bothering to touch the cold knob. Steam quickly bathed the room in dense plumes, latching onto the mirrors and other surfaces in the form of condensation. Cynthia derobed without hesitation, clothes melting against the floor before she stepped into the water and shut out the thunderstorm of negativity that prodded against every fiber of her being.

The water pelted her skin, turning pert, tanned flesh a muted pink upon contact. She tried to close her eyes and relax under the constant assault of the fiery rivulets, but every time she did, the girl's head was being split open as if a fabric ripper was plucking apart the seams of her flesh, her jaw locked in a roar of agony. It didn't take long before she died, thick blood that looked more like mucky motor oil in the harsh lighting spilling out from the crevice that had once formed the beautiful bone structure of her.

Cynthia's eyes shot open as she retched, dry heaving on an empty stomach. She scrubbed away at her skin until it was red from irritation, then scrubbed some more. Ever so slowly, she wiped away that non-existent film, until she could convince herself that it had just been a dream. That these nightmares that had been plaguing her -and that the people alongside her- were works of fiction. She fled the shower just as weary as she had been before, but with a slightly better coping mechanism.

The rest of her routine was by the book. She shimmied into a pencil skirt and blazer, with a striped thermal being her pop of color for the day. She followed that up immediately with a cup of hot tea, and a perfectly poached egg -one of the recipes she had learned from the television during her sick leave- accompanied by a slice of toast. It was habitual, it was normal. It was perfect in every sense of the word, and yet, she couldn't help how off putting the serenity was. It settled in the pit of her gut, to be analyzed and thought over later. Finishing breakfast, she slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder, it's heft appealing. Before departing her home, she slipped her cellphone into the pocket of her blazer, exiting the quiet household without any fanfare.

And off to work she went, a compliant young lawyer with a case to solve or, more than likely, paperwork to do. Ignoring the prospect of boredom, she turned up her gullwing’s stereo and blasted a playlist full of hip hop and classical music. An idiotic mixture to some, but a heavenly soundtrack to Cynthia. By the time she pulled into her reserved parking space, the hypnotic pulses of hip hop beats, and the mourningful tremors of the classics had done plenty to put her in a state of calm. She didn't forget her nightmare, but she had dutifully filed it away in her mind, like all the other unwanted or unuseful information.

Hopping out of her car, she hustled onto the elevator, wishing her co-workers and other pleasant strangers well. Up she went, until she came to her floor. There, she settled behind her desk, and attacked the pile of paperwork that was waiting for her.

---

It wasn't until later, as she stopped by the small coffee area to top off her glass of herbal tea, that she heard the news.

Jessica, her co-worker, was filling her thermos halfway with black coffee, before diluting it with creamer and sugar. “Did you hear about the murder in Philly?”

Cynthia stared at her blankly, not allowing the shock to register in her eyes. Links began to form in the back of her mind, but she smashed through them before their foundations could solidify. “I'm afraid not,” She admitted, having reduced her time on the television significantly. “Is it really relevant? Philadelphia is quite a ways away. Why are they broadcasting it nationally?”

Jessica shrugged, as if she was also baffled by this. “I don't have a clue, all I know is that the cause of her death was bizarre, and that she worked at a coffee shop near the Academy of Natural Sciences.”

And just like that, the floodgates were opened. The information poured into the forefront of Cynthia's thoughts at a dizzying pace. That was where her mystery woman had worked, that was where she had been walking to her home from. Her apron had still been tied up around her waist, the coffee shop's logo printed primly on the fabric. Her lips were a flat line, her brows crinkling to display the beginnings of wrinkles from this repeated reaction. Her nails suddenly itched, and she ached to chew them off to the bed.

It hadn't been a dream, the murder had truly happened, and she had been a witness. But how could she tell the police? How could she describe what she saw without them thinking she was insane? She scrubbed at the watermarks left behind on the countertop from co-workers who hadn't bothered to clean up their mess, for once thankful that she had slobs for partners. It gave her something to do, until the itch subsided. She turned, and Jessica was still there, looking at her with concern etched into the curve of her lips. “Are you alright, Cynthia?”

Cynthia breathed out through her nose, finality escaping just as her breath had. “I just thought I felt another headache coming on,” She lied, knowing full well that she was more physically fit than ever and that the headache had likely been a one time incident. “I'm going to be in my office, knock if you need anything.” She smiled, grabbing her mug and managing to stay surefooted until she entered her office and the blinds were shut.

Then, she cracked.

It hadn't been a dream, the exact situation that had haunted her dreamscape occurred in real life, and she had seen it all, but couldn't fabricate a face for the man or woman who had done it even if she tried. She was totally useless, and hundreds of miles away. All she could do was think on it, on the unpleasant circumstances. On the soul-crushing face the woman made before she died. Maybe even the fact that the woman's murderer could pick them all out so clearly, even though they hadn't truly been there. Or...she could work, and keep those thoughts at bay until she went home. How pleasant. How convenient.

So, she sipped her tea, opening up a thick file. And she hated herself as she wrote, and carried on.

Rise of the Evos

Cynthia Markov

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Cynthia Markov

“When you've spent your whole life being held back, you're gonna fall as soon as you're pushed. Get back up, it's for the best.”

---

---

Character Summary

Name:Cynthia Jane Markov
Aliases: Jane, Janey, or Cy-Cy.
Age: 29 Years Old
Birthday: October 16th, 1988
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Birthplace: Boston, Massachusetts
Place of Residency: Seattle, Washington
Gender: Female
Education: Harvard Graduate
Occupation: Lawyer
Languages: English, and Spanish

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---

Appearance

Height: 5 Feet 8 Inches
Weight: 130 Pounds
Body Type: Athletic
Eye Color: Light Blue/Grey
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
Skin Tone: Sun Kissed/Lightly Tanned
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: She has her earlobes pierced, and often wears minimalistic studs. She has a few scars on her knees from her time playing volleyball in high school and her short stint in the Harvard Crimson Women's team.
Personal Style: Cynthia has no set style, flowing between different types of clothing depending on what she's doing. During business hours, she's usually seen in a a form fitting, black pencil skirt and a blazer to match, with a pop of color in the form of her undershirt. Her everyday outfit often falls under the category of business casual, prim and proper but more laid back than her usual work attire. Other times, you can catch her in an oversized sweatshirt and gym shorts, or a sports bra and leggings.

---

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Psychology

Loyal * Strong-Willed * Alert * Cautious * Intelligent * Argumentative

Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Cynthia grew up around two highly intelligent parents, who pushed her to have an analytical mind. Before she knew it, she was reading people almost involuntarily. She always approaches things with an open mind, and is extremely loyal to people who prove themselves to her. That being said, she has a hard time accepting others without a showing of their values. She will argue with others until their ears fall off, just to prove her point. That is because when she believes she's right, she sticks to her guns and won't be moved.

When someone hurts her, she usually keeps her emotions to herself, believing it's a weakness that needs to be kept hidden. She does her best not to hurt others, a strict follower of the Golden Rule. Still, though, she is not immune to snapping under pressure. When this occurs, it's usually brief and intense, and she has a hard time bouncing back after outbursts.
Habits: Cynthia used to be an extreme nail biter, and returns to that habit in times of great duress. Whenever she can, though, she prefers to let out her stress through positive activities. (Exercising, cleaning, etc.) A sure sign that she's irritated or upset is when she presses her lips together and furrows her brows.
Hobbies: Playing volleyball, and reading.
Fears:

• Being trapped in small spaces.
• Being numbed mentally, not being able to think, etc.
• Losing the love of her parents

Likes:

• Volleyball
• Mental Challenges
• Classical Music
• Boxing/Muay Thai Lessons
• Cold Showers
• Rap/R&B is her guilty pleasure

Dislikes:

• Hair Metal
• Soccer
• Sloppy People
• Large Messes
• Cats
• Snakes

---

---

Skills

General Skills:

• Tech Savvy
• Cooking
• Skilled Athlete
• Strong Mind (Able to absorb information quickly)
• Speaking Spanish
• Driving Stick

Combat Skills:

• Muay Thai
• Boxing
• Opportunistic (Not afraid to fight dirty, will use things such as keys or random blunt objects as weapons.)
• Endurance

What Do They Carry On Them:

• Clothing - Converse sneakers, black pants, red blouse, golden bangle set, earrings.
• Purse- Debit card, credit card, business cards, blotting paper, 200 dollars broken down into twenties, pepper spray.
• Samsung Galaxy S8
• Purse
• Earphones
• Pen
• House Keys
• Car Keys

Possessions at Home:

• Mercedes Benz Gullwing
• LG Flat Screen TV
• Laptop
• Queen Bed
• Computer Desk
• Stocked Pantries

---

---

History

Biography:
Cynthia’s conception had been planned by two parents who were finally willing to settle down. After careful deliberation, Cheyenne and Dallas Markov agreed to set aside their other pursuits and bring a child into the world, one who could carry on where they left off. And so, nine months and twelve painful hours of labor later, baby Cynthia was born. She came into the world kicking and fussing, healthy and cute as a button, despite her wrinkled flesh and lidded eyes. It was then, in a haze of love and relief, that the two newborn parents knew they had created something great.

And as Cynthia grew older, they molded her into a youngster of their liking. Well disciplined, and smarter by the day. Her father enrolled her in children's boxing lessons, and her mother urged her to skip the sandbox and take up other exciting prospects, such as learning to read books above her grade level. She took to it well, recognizing even at that age that they had a vision for her, and fulfilling it made them proud. She loved that- their devotion to teaching her, and their beaming smiles when she learned from her mistakes.

When the crushing waves of puberty settled, they urged her to become more independent. They pushed her towards her first job -waiting and cleaning tables at a local restaurant- in an attempt to teach her that working hard was a good attribute. They also began to discuss her future with her, asking her what she planned to pursue. It didn't take much prodding, though, because Cynthia already had an idea of what she wanted to study.

Criminal law. Both of her parents were lawyers, one fixated on divorce, the other on real estate, but Cynthia had bigger goals. She wanted to defend the victims of crime, and be a hero in her own right. So, from then on, she chased after her dreams. The only things that weren't put on the backburner during her studies were boxing lessons, and volleyball. She was overjoyed -but unsurprised, after all, recommendation letters from two former alumnis were pretty convincing- when she was accepted into Harvard Law, and moved onto campus directly after high school.

And there she stayed, majoring in Criminal Law, until she graduated and passed her bar exam. Soon after, she moved to Seattle, Washington. The rainy weather suited her, and the crime rate was just what a criminal lawyer needed. One day, while working on a case, she was struck with a sudden migraine. It sent her sprawling to the floor in the middle of a meeting with the prosecution. She was sent to the hospital in the back of an ambulance, where the symptoms worsened. She had to drop the case, and stay at home on sick-leave. That's when it all began.

Discovery Of Your Power: She was put on sick-leave for two weeks. They were afraid that if she was too active, she would suffer another migraine. So, she sat, on her couch, and on her bed...watching television. Action movies, mostly. It wasn't until she was back on her feet that she noticed the change. She went back to boxing lessons almost immediately, but even her mentor noticed her obvious improvement. She was using moves that she had never been taught, moves that she had seen only once before, on the screen. It was when she scorpion kicked her opponent -a highly complex move from The Matrix- in the face that she panicked. She apologized to the broken-nosed young man, offered him compensation for the injury, and dropped out of classes.

She ran experiments, trying to prove her sanity to herself. She purchased a violin, an instrument she had never before used, and after watching a single video of the string instrument being played on YouTube, she was able to play a sorrowful melody as if she had been at it her entire life. It was...amazing, and horrifying. She had the potential to do great things, yes, but it also came with the ability to maim, if she so chose. So, she restricted herself. Limiting her time watching television, or other performances, and kept the incident under wraps.

Ability & Powers: Adoptive Muscle Memory- The ability to perform any stunt/task she sees in action.

Ability & Powers Weaknesses: She cannot mimic abilities that she hasn't seen in real life/on television. If she were to look at a picture of someone shooting a gun with perfect precision, she would be unable to shoot a gun with perfect precision. She is also unable to master the powers of others, such as Riley’s force field manipulation.

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Additional Information

Theme Song: Blessings- Big Sean ft. Drake, and Kanye West
Extra Information:

Writing Sample

No one of importance, the words rang true in her mind. They were silver bullets, splitting her outer defenses and plummeting through her ribcage into her bleeding heart. She was taken aback by the young prince, completely stunned by him. She nearly collapsed in a heap, her wolf's sheer will being her only anchor. She could handle the trifling barbs, they were merely additional pinpricks to a pride that had been run through continuously with poisoned blades. But to call someone who had spent their life obeying the demands of insolent nobility ’No one of importance’? It was humiliating, it reinforced every thought she had once had about nobility. They were pigs, feeding off of the torment of their subjects like it was a honeyed mash. Celine stayed cemented to the floor, but every fiber of her being strained to launch towards the child-Prince and tear apart his body until it resembled Esmeralda's corpse. Surely, she thought, if she held her ground the King would do something to punish this brat. Surely, he would make a fuss and honor the life of a woman who had served him up until her mate's last breath? Her gaze shifted to him, until the red rimming her eyes cleared enough to see him completely.

Celine was fixated on the expression of her king, a man so brave and sure in his mannerisms now taut with anxiety. She dared a glance at his eyes, unsurprised to see that they were narrowed in on the shell that had once contained the soul of her compassionate companion. The old man's face had gone pale, drastically unveiling every fine line his prior bravado had managed to mask. He was petrified. Her eyes bore narrow holes into his rigid flesh, wondering what he would say, how he would assure his court. Once more, he failed her, once more, he failed his kingdom. It was unforgivable when he stormed past her, scurrying off to collect himself. She launched emerald daggers into his spine, wishing to cripple him and demolish his crown. Claws tore into Celine's sides, and it was only then that she noticed she had been shredding up her wool blanket.

She nearly stooped down to pick up the scraps that had fallen to the floor beside her, but perked up at the sound of Owain's voice. It dispersed the torrent of emotions she was feeling, leaving her vulnerable to him. She was not disappointed by his reaction, his volatile rage was an outstanding sight. The tight-lipped, brooding Prince hardly ever made his presence known -it was a feature that made him mysteriously attractive among the women of the court- but here, when it mattered most, he was the only person who dared to announce his distaste for his brother's repulsive attitude. Celine soared with immeasurable pride, her wolf stomping her feet and howling out her affirmations. A small justice had been done for Esmeralda, and in turn, a majority of the people.

Battling the urge to rush forwards and kiss the lips off of her mate, Celine smothered her small smile and watched as the two brothers clashed. She had never been taught the true ways of court, but she knew how to read the actions of people, particularly when their wolves spoke through them. Enoch, having awoken his wild, was high off of power. It was a rush Celine knew all too well, especially in his position. He had the strength of a potential alpha flooding his veins, and the moment he unlocked it's true potential a war would be waged. Perhaps not physically -depending on Owain's willpower and his ability to reel in his wolf- but backs would be stabbed and the unsteady foundations of their familial bonds would shatter. She prayed that when the time came, the unspoken majesty would put his foot down and claim his birthright. If he continued to have the appropriate opinion towards his subjects, it would benefit all in the court.

The heartthrob of all teenaged females stomped off, the air around him reeking of misused privilege. A group of guards trailed him, stepping lightly and attempting to give him a wide berth. She felt a pang of pity for these men -the ones who hadn't been chosen to serve under her father in the army- who had to fall on swords for royals who couldn't differentiate between them and a pile of cow manure. Dismissing them with a furrowed brow, she turned her attention once more to her Pri-mate. She gave him a small curtsy before attempting to speak, doing her best to keep the body beneath her out of eyesight. “Your Highness, bless you for honoring my friend's memory,” She began, doling out more respect for him than she had ever provided any other noble. Her true thanks would have to wait, but for now, she hoped these ornate words would appease him and his guests.

She met his gaze, finding sweet serenity in his eyes. She was almost certain that she could entrust him with the task of finding Esmeralda's killers. If it weren't for her bias against members of nobility, she would have been able to lean on him entirely. Alas, her tension only truly ceased once he offered her a spot on the reconnaissance team. “I'll meet with you again this evening.” She promised, knowing that her time with him was up...for now at least. She leaned forwards, bringing Esmeralda into her arms once more. She had grown almost immune to the scent of her decomposition, having toted her through the woods. The silver, however, still stung her nose with a dizzying effect. Turning and throwing back her shoulders, she marched Esmeralda out of the room with all the dignity she could muster.

Elemental Manipulations are my favorite types of powers.

Rise of the Evos

@Nallore

I saw that! I currently don't have a discord but I'll make one so I can join. :)

Rise of the Evos

@Nallore

Edited!

Rise of the Evos

@Nallore

All done!

Hider

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Cynthia Markov

“When you've spent your whole life being held back, you're gonna fall as soon as you're pushed. Get back up, it's for the best.”

---

---

Character Summary

Name:Cynthia Jane Markov
Aliases: Jane, Janey, or Cy-Cy.
Age: 29 Years Old
Birthday: October 16th, 1988
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Birthplace: Boston, Massachusetts
Place of Residency: Seattle, Washington
Gender: Female
Education: Harvard Graduate
Occupation: Lawyer
Languages: English, and Spanish

---

---

Appearance

Height: 5 Feet 8 Inches
Weight: 130 Pounds
Body Type: Athletic
Eye Color: Light Blue/Grey
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
Skin Tone: Sun Kissed/Lightly Tanned
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: She has her earlobes pierced, and often wears minimalistic studs. She has a few scars on her knees from her time playing volleyball in high school and her short stint in the Harvard Crimson Women's team.
Personal Style: Cynthia has no set style, flowing between different types of clothing depending on what she's doing. During business hours, she's usually seen in a a form fitting, black pencil skirt and a blazer to match, with a pop of color in the form of her undershirt. Her everyday outfit often falls under the category of business casual, prim and proper but more laid back than her usual work attire. Other times, you can catch her in an oversized sweatshirt and gym shorts, or a sports bra and leggings.

---

---

Psychology

Loyal * Strong-Willed * Alert * Cautious * Intelligent * Argumentative

Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Cynthia grew up around two highly intelligent parents, who pushed her to have an analytical mind. Before she knew it, she was reading people almost involuntarily. She always approaches things with an open mind, and is extremely loyal to people who prove themselves to her. That being said, she has a hard time accepting others without a showing of their values. She will argue with others until their ears fall off, just to prove her point. That is because when she believes she's right, she sticks to her guns and won't be moved.

When someone hurts her, she usually keeps her emotions to herself, believing it's a weakness that needs to be kept hidden. She does her best not to hurt others, a strict follower of the Golden Rule. Still, though, she is not immune to snapping under pressure. When this occurs, it's usually brief and intense, and she has a hard time bouncing back after outbursts.
Habits: Cynthia used to be an extreme nail biter, and returns to that habit in times of great duress. Whenever she can, though, she prefers to let out her stress through positive activities. (Exercising, cleaning, etc.) A sure sign that she's irritated or upset is when she presses her lips together and furrows her brows.
Hobbies: Playing volleyball, and reading.
Fears:

• Being trapped in small spaces.
• Being numbed mentally, not being able to think, etc.
• Losing the love of her parents

Likes:

• Volleyball
• Mental Challenges
• Classical Music
• Boxing/Muay Thai Lessons
• Cold Showers
• Rap/R&B is her guilty pleasure

Dislikes:

• Hair Metal
• Soccer
• Sloppy People
• Large Messes
• Cats
• Snakes

---

---

Skills

General Skills:

• Tech Savvy
• Cooking
• Skilled Athlete
• Strong Mind (Able to absorb information quickly)
• Speaking Spanish
• Driving Stick

Combat Skills:

• Muay Thai
• Boxing
• Opportunistic (Not afraid to fight dirty, will use things such as keys or random blunt objects as weapons.)
• Endurance

What Do They Carry On Them:

• Clothing - Converse sneakers, black pants, red blouse, golden bangle set, earrings.
• Purse- Debit card, credit card, business cards, blotting paper, 200 dollars broken down into twenties, pepper spray.
• Samsung Galaxy S8
• Purse
• Earphones
• Pen
• House Keys
• Car Keys

Possessions at Home:

• Mercedes Benz Gullwing
• LG Flat Screen TV
• Laptop
• Queen Bed
• Computer Desk
• Stocked Pantries

---

---

History

Biography:
Cynthia’s conception had been planned by two parents who were finally willing to settle down. After careful deliberation, Cheyenne and Dallas Markov agreed to set aside their other pursuits and bring a child into the world, one who could carry on where they left off. And so, nine months and twelve painful hours of labor later, baby Cynthia was born. She came into the world kicking and fussing, healthy and cute as a button, despite her wrinkled flesh and lidded eyes. It was then, in a haze of love and relief, that the two newborn parents knew they had created something great.

And as Cynthia grew older, they molded her into a youngster of their liking. Well disciplined, and smarter by the day. Her father enrolled her in children's boxing lessons, and her mother urged her to skip the sandbox and take up other exciting prospects, such as learning to read books above her grade level. She took to it well, recognizing even at that age that they had a vision for her, and fulfilling it made them proud. She loved that- their devotion to teaching her, and their beaming smiles when she learned from her mistakes.

When the crushing waves of puberty settled, they urged her to become more independent. They pushed her towards her first job -waiting and cleaning tables at a local restaurant- in an attempt to teach her that working hard was a good attribute. They also began to discuss her future with her, asking her what she planned to pursue. It didn't take much prodding, though, because Cynthia already had an idea of what she wanted to study.

Criminal law. Both of her parents were lawyers, one fixated on divorce, the other on real estate, but Cynthia had bigger goals. She wanted to defend the victims of crime, and be a hero in her own right. So, from then on, she chased after her dreams. The only things that weren't put on the backburner during her studies were boxing lessons, and volleyball. She was overjoyed -but unsurprised, after all, recommendation letters from two former alumnis were pretty convincing- when she was accepted into Harvard Law, and moved onto campus directly after high school.

And there she stayed, majoring in Criminal Law, until she graduated and passed her bar exam. Soon after, she moved to Seattle, Washington. The rainy weather suited her, and the crime rate was just what a criminal lawyer needed. One day, while working on a case, she was struck with a sudden migraine. It sent her sprawling to the floor in the middle of a meeting with the prosecution. She was sent to the hospital in the back of an ambulance, where the symptoms worsened. She had to drop the case, and stay at home on sick-leave. That's when it all began.

Discovery Of Your Power: She was put on sick-leave for two weeks. They were afraid that if she was too active, she would suffer another migraine. So, she sat, on her couch, and on her bed...watching television. Action movies, mostly. It wasn't until she was back on her feet that she noticed the change. She went back to boxing lessons almost immediately, but even her mentor noticed her obvious improvement. She was using moves that she had never been taught, moves that she had seen only once before, on the screen. It was when she scorpion kicked her opponent -a highly complex move from The Matrix- in the face that she panicked. She apologized to the broken-nosed young man, offered him compensation for the injury, and dropped out of classes.

She ran experiments, trying to prove her sanity to herself. She purchased a violin, an instrument she had never before used, and after watching a single video of the string instrument being played on YouTube, she was able to play a sorrowful melody as if she had been at it her entire life. It was...amazing, and horrifying. She had the potential to do great things, yes, but it also came with the ability to maim, if she so chose. So, she restricted herself. Limiting her time watching television, or other performances, and kept the incident under wraps.

Ability & Powers: Adoptive Muscle Memory- The ability to perform any stunt/task she sees in action.

Ability & Powers Weaknesses: She cannot mimic abilities that she hasn't seen in real life/on television. If she were to look at a picture of someone shooting a gun with perfect precision, she would be unable to shoot a gun with perfect precision. She is also unable to master the powers of others, such as Riley’s force field manipulation.

---

---

Additional Information

Theme Song: Blessings- Big Sean ft. Drake, and Kanye West
Extra Information:

Writing Sample

No one of importance, the words rang true in her mind. They were silver bullets, splitting her outer defenses and plummeting through her ribcage into her bleeding heart. She was taken aback by the young prince, completely stunned by him. She nearly collapsed in a heap, her wolf's sheer will being her only anchor. She could handle the trifling barbs, they were merely additional pinpricks to a pride that had been run through continuously with poisoned blades. But to call someone who had spent their life obeying the demands of insolent nobility ’No one of importance’? It was humiliating, it reinforced every thought she had once had about nobility. They were pigs, feeding off of the torment of their subjects like it was a honeyed mash. Celine stayed cemented to the floor, but every fiber of her being strained to launch towards the child-Prince and tear apart his body until it resembled Esmeralda's corpse. Surely, she thought, if she held her ground the King would do something to punish this brat. Surely, he would make a fuss and honor the life of a woman who had served him up until her mate's last breath? Her gaze shifted to him, until the red rimming her eyes cleared enough to see him completely.

Celine was fixated on the expression of her king, a man so brave and sure in his mannerisms now taut with anxiety. She dared a glance at his eyes, unsurprised to see that they were narrowed in on the shell that had once contained the soul of her compassionate companion. The old man's face had gone pale, drastically unveiling every fine line his prior bravado had managed to mask. He was petrified. Her eyes bore narrow holes into his rigid flesh, wondering what he would say, how he would assure his court. Once more, he failed her, once more, he failed his kingdom. It was unforgivable when he stormed past her, scurrying off to collect himself. She launched emerald daggers into his spine, wishing to cripple him and demolish his crown. Claws tore into Celine's sides, and it was only then that she noticed she had been shredding up her wool blanket.

She nearly stooped down to pick up the scraps that had fallen to the floor beside her, but perked up at the sound of Owain's voice. It dispersed the torrent of emotions she was feeling, leaving her vulnerable to him. She was not disappointed by his reaction, his volatile rage was an outstanding sight. The tight-lipped, brooding Prince hardly ever made his presence known -it was a feature that made him mysteriously attractive among the women of the court- but here, when it mattered most, he was the only person who dared to announce his distaste for his brother's repulsive attitude. Celine soared with immeasurable pride, her wolf stomping her feet and howling out her affirmations. A small justice had been done for Esmeralda, and in turn, a majority of the people.

Battling the urge to rush forwards and kiss the lips off of her mate, Celine smothered her small smile and watched as the two brothers clashed. She had never been taught the true ways of court, but she knew how to read the actions of people, particularly when their wolves spoke through them. Enoch, having awoken his wild, was high off of power. It was a rush Celine knew all too well, especially in his position. He had the strength of a potential alpha flooding his veins, and the moment he unlocked it's true potential a war would be waged. Perhaps not physically -depending on Owain's willpower and his ability to reel in his wolf- but backs would be stabbed and the unsteady foundations of their familial bonds would shatter. She prayed that when the time came, the unspoken majesty would put his foot down and claim his birthright. If he continued to have the appropriate opinion towards his subjects, it would benefit all in the court.

The heartthrob of all teenaged females stomped off, the air around him reeking of misused privilege. A group of guards trailed him, stepping lightly and attempting to give him a wide berth. She felt a pang of pity for these men -the ones who hadn't been chosen to serve under her father in the army- who had to fall on swords for royals who couldn't differentiate between them and a pile of cow manure. Dismissing them with a furrowed brow, she turned her attention once more to her Pri-mate. She gave him a small curtsy before attempting to speak, doing her best to keep the body beneath her out of eyesight. “Your Highness, bless you for honoring my friend's memory,” She began, doling out more respect for him than she had ever provided any other noble. Her true thanks would have to wait, but for now, she hoped these ornate words would appease him and his guests.

She met his gaze, finding sweet serenity in his eyes. She was almost certain that she could entrust him with the task of finding Esmeralda's killers. If it weren't for her bias against members of nobility, she would have been able to lean on him entirely. Alas, her tension only truly ceased once he offered her a spot on the reconnaissance team. “I'll meet with you again this evening.” She promised, knowing that her time with him was up...for now at least. She leaned forwards, bringing Esmeralda into her arms once more. She had grown almost immune to the scent of her decomposition, having toted her through the woods. The silver, however, still stung her nose with a dizzying effect. Turning and throwing back her shoulders, she marched Esmeralda out of the room with all the dignity she could muster.

Elemental Manipulations are my favorite types of powers.

Amethyst's 1×1 Thread (F Seeking M) 18+ [Updated! 2/4/18]

Bumpity bump. Looking again. :)