Darcs

Ariel Darcs' Haunted Character Sheets

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I am Thou, Thou art I | Persona

Still looking for people for this? I might have a character depending on if you need more guys or girls?

A Game of Desire//Interest Check

👀

Motel Cadillac

BOMBERMAN

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"You want me to hide out WHERE?"

Thierry Augustine (Clementine)

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| Name |

Thierry Augustine

| Nickname |

Many, most current is: Clementine Caserio or Cici

| Age |

32

| Gender |

Cis-Female

| Sexuality |

Gay as hell

| Relationship Status |

;)

| Occupation |

Internationally Wanted Eco-Terrorist

| Appearance |

Clementine stands at an unassuming 5'2", perfect for her line of work, in convincing security she isn't as dangerous as she may actually be. Her bust and figure are a fair bit above average, with Clementine often having to wear binders to avoid drawing too much attention to herself, and her well rounded figure driving her to dress in ways that prevent perverts and cat callers from taking notice of her. She has short black hair framing intense brown, almost black eyes, and nearly blemish free skin with a tan olive complexion that reveals her mixed ancestry.

Her expressions tend to be overexaggerated, but empty underneath, really only conveying depression and paranoia. Though she prefers to wear multiple layers to hide her body, her outfits since coming to Coalfell tend to rely on her binder and natural slouch to hide her body. Black and earth tones are her colors, either a dark tank-top or a T-shirt and skinny jeans or sweatpants. She is rarely seen without her signature heavy eyeliner, and she is seen in a fresh eyepatch daily. Her arms and legs are covered in sleeves of tattoos.

| Personality |

Clementine is as dramatic and artsy as they come, seeing anything she pursues as the source of all the passion in the universe. An artist at her core, she is prone to mad flights of fancy and incredible depths of despair at the drop of dime. She is also completely convicted to her cause, and has been for over a decade of fighting the governments and corporations of the world. Her sense of humor is biting and direct and she's a bit of a romantic, especially due to her... proclivities, not exactly making match making easy in her male dominated field. She's a sucker for a good romance.

| Short Bio |

Clementine's life before landing in Coalfell has been kind of a blur. How DOES one land themselves on the FBI's top ten most wanted list? Viewed as a terrorist by pretty much every government homeland security organization on the planet? Or become involved with an organization so dangerous Interpol and the UN have joint task forces just to hunt down people who are willing just to hunt down tips about you and your comrades? Clementine couldn't tell you. Thinking about thinks like that isn't for her-- for her? Revolution is what the world needs. And Clementine knows that revolution is achieved with two hands, so as a youth joining what was supposed to be a revival of the best parts of the Weather Underground and the Black Panthers in college, she quickly found herself wrapped up in a world of domestic and international intrigue and crime. And her hands were busied with the sabotage of the bourgeoisie elite.

And bombs.

Clementine has made many, many bombs. Bombs to destroy the tools of those who would claim nature as theirs, bombs to aid in stealing from them, bombs to kill them. Knowledge on how to make a powerful weapon is useful, and very dangerous in our modern world. Her passion was always the beauty that came from destroying to preserve, she saw herself as an artist-- the organization saw her as an invaluable, high ranking, founding member-- so when it came time to cool things down, what better place to relocate than smack dab in the middle of nowhere?

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Ariel Darcs' Haunted Character Sheets

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Motel Cadillac

I'm so in on this it's insane. Working on a character right now.

Reviving Miraculous America

I haven't been in an RP in a while, so I was looking for something casual to get back into writing. I've basically never seen this show (though I do have some ideas for a character and an animal that I think would match them) would I be a good fit for thins, do you think?

Forgot the password to my other account Darcs, so here I am.

Ayyy I got my real account back

Probity

On Dwight Kelly

Body electric, my body is electric
And
Eclectic

Who sings it, but that which is kissed by Death's favored relative.
The prodigal cousin, fills eyes with sand, and song--

Sing:

Life, is but a dream.
And you, are but a thought.

Such words do my mind’s eye gleam,
Taking me astray, quite away in such a... this way, that way, or the other whimsical way, keeping me taught.

What is?

Do these words mean to demean?
No-- but instead, distraught, at the idea that my hallucinations of this reality I plunder and wonder are… wrought?

Well, they are, aren't they young spirited away subject, so what is the worry? Ahh, who knows with kids these days.

Empty, like the heart-shaped box. We crumble to cardboard after years of knowledge bores holes in our weak chambers. Cardboard crumbles. Cardboard crumbles. And the world continues and crumbles, like that rat eater of the scientist.

The wrapper is recycled. Our walls are consumed like pastries. Dirt.
A thought, in a dream. Housing such vibrant thunder, and journeys, and gifts.

Dirt, still.

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Ede Blanche

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Ede’s pupils widened at the sight of the man before her. The small town didn’t offer much variety when it came to lovers-- Dwight certainly rose above the rest. Perhaps it was the years of experience, etched into his face and body? The fact that hidden under the suit-- clearly more expensive than those of his compatriots, tailored to his masculine form, was an understated strength. An animal ferocity that hid behind the polite veneer. Ede needed that power-- that electricity-- it was something many men and women in her town had lost. Where it came from was something Ede had yet to figure out-- the conversations post-coital only went so far, only got so deep. Just as she felt his eye glance over her body with a hunger, unique to Dwight Kelly-- she too, had her own selfish desires sparked, when she saw the man.

Less physical? Of course. But sex was always related to power. Ede could at least determine the Dwight had begun sleeping with her because he had a desire to exert his over someone all too willing to submit to that power. And that was why she slept with him-- the investigation. The dynamics of being overpowered by a man utterly bot a part and apart from his society. Did he resent his job? Did he resent that he couldn’t be more forceful with her? Did he resent not being enough?

What is enough?

Ede’s smile, calculated, was genuine-- but it appeared to Dwight as if it was forced. She knew he liked that. Her guess? It made him feel more incharge. She supposed that was nice to feel. If she could provide that to a man so handsome, why shouldn't she? As she crossed her fingers, lacing them one over the other, as if to appear guarded to him, and the world around the pair. They did this dance-- delicate-- she’d sing right now, if he asked her to. But he wouldn’t, because that would hurt them both. Him, the married man, moreso than her, the spinster. But still-- in this fair microcosm of theirs-- social stock was like gold.

The fray around the pair gave her leeway to be a bit more open than she otherwise could. It was amazing how the nosiest neighbors were the first to leap at deals that weren’t even to their benefit. “Half off” was perhaps, a metaphor for the state of their brains-- certainly not their eyes, which otherwise would have caught Ede leaning nearer to Dwight than socially acceptable. What would have been a clear kiss on the cheek-- became a blur to those around them, milling their way about in lines. As Ede backed off, she took a sip of his coffee, leaving a smudge of lipstick on the mug-- another tradition of theirs.

As if to say; “I’ll be tasting more of that soon enough,”

What is enough?

She moved back quickly, a sly smile still firmly painted across her lips. “I honestly don’t know what I was thinking!” Gesturing to the whole restaurant, “I pretty much hate baked anything… Especially if it comes from the Brits, those tarts wouldn’t know flavor if it curdled their custard!”

Ede gave a shrug.

“We all know the orient and the third world is where the best flavor comes from--” Shaking her head, she continued, as if disappointed in her patrons for causing such a fuss over overpriced puffs of stale sourdough. “That’s what I like about you D.D.” She moved closer-- “It’s why I appreciate you coming in each morning, inspiring me…” Her lips quivered, “You see things like they are, with such a cool-head… and you take it from there… I need more of that in my life… to just know… what is enough?”

@Skelm

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Lottie Yates

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Charlotte V. Yates-- Lottie-- let out an uncomfortable sigh.

She had a gala to plan for the family reunion coming up, as if the stress of being the golden child to please the entirety of the notoriously finicky Blanche clan wasn’t enough. She hadn’t spoken a word to her husband in days-- about this, or anything. Her sister hadn’t gotten back to her, because of course she wouldn’t. Her mother wanted to know why she wasn’t pregnant-- she herself wanted to know why she wasn’t pregnant!

You can’t join the PTA without a child-- and she’d be damned if she was going to let Karen Stevenson one up her in that regard. She already beat that heartless harpy out in coaching all of the girls sports for the school-- so of course she had tp have the PTA. She was sleeping with the principle for christs sake! Talk about setting an example for the future.

The golden elevator she was in felt claustrophobic. The attendant, dressed in red and black, looked over at her uneasy. With narrowed eyes, she gave him a forced smile, and the man nodded his head and turned away. Damn right he’d better turn away! Who the hell did he think he was? Judging her nerves? She had a right to be nervous-- he was a mongrel-- hardly a man! Her husband was on the fast track to becoming the law! She could have him arrested, and then make sure he was put away! She knew the DA!

The elevator dinged as the floors passed. The man needed a penthouse suite-- he’d earned it, more than that, though-- he deserved it. Her only complaint was that, in his gaudy golden elevator-- she had to sit in silence for nearly a minute with his judgemental, mongoloid elevator boy.

She looked down. Her blouse was immaculate-- white satin folds blended with her silver suit jacket and a pencil skirt she knew he’d like. Purple accents made her olive skin shine like a purer gold than the mirrors that surrounded the two.

She needed to make this trip. A man had been found innocent who was clearly guilty. She needed to speak to the DA about it. Later she’d attend a dinner at Joanne’s-- right! She was a teacher… maybe she could do something about that skank Karen Stevenson. She could reconnect with her husband there too… then later, she’d finish planning for the reunion. All after getting this scumbag put away. She could do this.

Another sigh. Top floor.

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Probity

Yeah I was totally gone for xmas capitalism day. Imma gonna respond to dwighty d soon.

@Drag I have that same flask...