Entlein

Apocalypse Not

Emerick

Full Name:
Emerick Charles Green

Nicknames/Aliases:
Emy

{+}

Age:
24

Gender:
Male

Species:
Antichrist, Spawn of Leviathan

Description:
Emerick was born screen-ready. Walnut-brown hair turns almost auburn in the sunlight, and thick eyelashes frame his soft, dark green eyes. He maintains a muscular, toned form that doesn’t draw away from his femininity in its power. Golden ram horns catch and throw even the tiniest glimmers of light across his face, giving him an unearthly glow. His dress is almost academic, with appropriately open collars, long sleeves, and carefully fitted seams, all in neutrals. His style remains deliberately fashionable on his outdoor ventures, but he defers to practicality with heavy boots and tighter sleeves.

Personality:
Emerick is well-mannered and intelligent, and preferred a museum excursion or hike to a party when available. His online persona, “Emy,” is charismatic and jovial, with just the right amount of mischief-making to be seen as more playful than rude.

Skills:
⁍Mental manipulation, weak but can be used on many at once, and is particularly strong when inciting envy
⁍Minor miracles, such as turning a liquid to desired liquid
⁍Enhanced physical abilities, mostly limited to harder skin, increased endurance, and greater strength

Weaknesses:
⁍Arrogant, thinks he's invulnerable
⁍Limited to minor, if slightly growing, abilities
⁍More human than many non-humans and visibly more demonic than humans, he stands out, but not always in a good way

Brief History:
Emerick's wanderlust and seemingly bottomless trust fund had begun to propel him across the globe with enviable freedom. When fire filled the sky and golden horns burst from his skull, he began to vlog, as one does. For those hiding from the terror that surrounded them, Emy's videos of navigating the world as a would-have-been antichrist are mindless escapisms. His newly discovered abilities to sway minds, perform minor miracles, and remain somehow unscathed through the turmoil bring flocks of people to his live-streams. When the apocalypses paused, he found his way back to northeast America to help bring order to the displaced and directionless masses.

Other:
"For fear that you find out
I'm imagining you"

Apocalypse Not

ECHO

Emerick

Full Name:
Emerick Charles Green

Nicknames/Aliases:
Emy

{+}

Age:
24

Gender:
Male

Species:
Antichrist, Spawn of Leviathan

Description:
Emerick was born screen-ready. Walnut-brown hair turns almost auburn in the sunlight, and thick eyelashes frame his soft, dark green eyes. He maintains a muscular, toned form that doesn’t draw away from his femininity in its power. Golden ram horns catch and throw even the tiniest glimmers of light across his face, giving him an unearthly glow. His dress is almost academic, with appropriately open collars, long sleeves, and carefully fitted seams, all in neutrals. His style remains deliberately fashionable on his outdoor ventures, but he defers to practicality with heavy boots and tighter sleeves.

Personality:
Emerick is well-mannered and intelligent, and preferred a museum excursion or hike to a party when available. His online persona, “Emy,” is charismatic and jovial, with just the right amount of mischief-making to be seen as more playful than rude.

Skills:
⁍Mental manipulation, weak but can be used on many at once, and is particularly strong when inciting envy
⁍Minor miracles, such as turning a liquid to desired liquid
⁍Enhanced physical abilities, mostly limited to harder skin, increased endurance, and greater strength

Weaknesses:
⁍Arrogant, thinks he's invulnerable
⁍Limited to minor, if slightly growing, abilities
⁍More human than many non-humans and visibly more demonic than humans, he stands out, but not always in a good way

Brief History:
Emerick's wanderlust and seemingly bottomless trust fund had begun to propel him across the globe with enviable freedom. When fire filled the sky and golden horns burst from his skull, he began to vlog, as one does. For those hiding from the terror that surrounded them, Emy's videos of navigating the world as a would-have-been antichrist are mindless escapisms. His newly discovered abilities to sway minds, perform minor miracles, and remain somehow unscathed through the turmoil bring flocks of people to his live-streams. When the apocalypses paused, he found his way back to northeast America to help bring order to the displaced and directionless masses.

Other:
"For fear that you find out
I'm imagining you"

Camp Fujin

With a cautious glance towards Tsu, Kit jerks his head towards the riverboats and falls in step just behind Kosa. He grins at the wind that gently pushes him along, laughing brightly at Kosa's whisper.
"Wrong language, man. Mädchen means girl, right? What about her?" He leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. "She's kinda prissy, I think," he mutters.

As they approach the riverboats, Kit drinks in the chaotic sight. Each of the four boats has their own gangplank connecting them to the shore, but a series of haphazard boards creates an interlocking walkway among them. Stepping confidently onto the closest gangplank, Kit knocks his hand on the railing and calls, "Hello? Anybody home?"

He seems to not have noticed the bright white biwa floating above his head.

Camp Fujin

At the mention of Kosa's nationality, Kit bristles defensively. "What does it matter where he's 'native' to? He fits in just as well as you or me." He pauses, scoffs, and amends. "Better than me, that's for sure, but that's not hard." As Kosa comes crashing down and pops out of the flowers, Kit smiles softly. Speak of the devil. The smile drops when Tsu brushes the lilies out of Kosa's hair, and Kit loops his thumbs through his belt loops. That's fine too. Whatever. He toes one of the fallen flowers.

"Hey, man. Found your cabinmates?" He looks up excitedly, remembering why they'd been heading in that direction. "Wanna go check out these riverboats with us?"

Another Camp Half Blood Rp-Rebooted

When Artemis's confused face shimmers into view, the thin line of Darya's mouth relaxes. Her eyes crinkle in amusement as Artemis's bewildered questions pour through the hazy Iris connection, and she holds up a finger to slow the rapid-fire interrogation.
"Hello. You don't have to do anything, per se. This is an Iris message. It's the main mode of communication for the demigods at Camp Half-Blood," she explains, speech stilted. Almost as if she's reading an email out-loud, she continues, "I saw your note. Would you care for company? Roaming monsters pose a serious threat to individual demigods, and considering the large group in which we are traveling, we're bound to attract a number of enemies." She pauses as a small tremor rumbles almost imperceptibly under her still-bare feet. Its origin is nearby, but it doesn't seem natural. Scooping up the fountain, she pads quietly back toward the source.
"Speak softly, sister. There may be a danger here." She catches a glimpse of Devon kneeling on the ground and watches him silently for a tick before she backs just out of sight and hearing. "Apologies. It was simply the son of the deep." Her attention returns to Artemis's misty reflection.

~

Although Reagan had never visited Sydney, winding their way through the streets of the unfamiliar city is like meeting (another) half-sibling. No matter where they go, there's an undercurrent of familiarity that leads their feet down each path, a dance that their body can't forget. Without seeming to notice J.R. tailing them, they let curiosity be their guide, getting distracted by interesting-looking places and people.
The latter turns out to be the traveler that had driven him onto the streets in the first place. A head of white hair is unusual, especially paired with the heavy winter gear that hangs off his form awkwardly.
That has to be uncomfortable.
Reagan jogs lightly towards the boy as he peruses souvenirs. Really, the kid couldn't look more like a tourist if he tried.
"Hey! Where've you been, man? We've been looking for you," they call, slinging an arm over his shoulder casually. Praying the kid will play along, they turn to the shopkeeper.
"'Scuse us, sir! Sorry to take your time," they say, grimacing apologetically. They pointedly turn the other kid away, leading him to a busier street. As soon as the two are out of earshot, they drop their arm and back up, giving the other space.
"Sorry, but he was scamming you. They jack up prices for foreigners. Also, I think I can point you in the right direction, if you're looking for something specifically." They smile widely, gesturing in the direction of the nome.

Camp Fujin

Kit bobs his head to the rōnin as he leaves, then grins as wind stirs around him. "See ya in a bit!" he calls as Kosa rapidly disappears. His smile drops a little, becoming unreadable as he watches him run off happily. He turns to the fancy girl at her question, demeanor shifting back to aloof at the unfamiliar face. Definitely some rich kid who actually gives a shit about posture and manners and whatnot.

"What's it to you?" he retorts, then pauses, seeming contrite at the sharp tone before settling back into uncaring. He gestures for her to follow and begins ambling towards the temple for the unclaimed. His gaze lands on the waterfront, where a handful of boats keeps drawing his attention. During the tour, he'd seen a couple others adrift in various spots, but they'd never gotten close enough. Making a beeline towards the larger group of them, he tilts his head to beckon the fancy girl along.

Camp Fujin

In response to Kosa's question, Kit digs a very crumpled flyer out of his bag. "Hell yeah. My dad gave it to me last week," he mutters, just as quickly.

The old guy who seemed to be in charge introduced himself as a long-dead rōnin, which Kit highly doubted, but he followed anyways. Only because Kosa grabbed his arm, not because he actually sorta believed the guy. Shut up. Kit followed the English explanations from this "Miyamoto" dude fairly well, but his Japanese was much easier to understand. English was never Kit's favorite subject, but it had its uses. Also, Kosa's head now had a glowing pink what's-it above it. Cool. That's normal.

Okay, so maybe this place holds some of the answers that Kit's been looking for. The blonde wandered off after his symbol popped up, and the redhead disappeared somewhere, so Kit catches Miyamoto's attention.

"Sir, what the fancy girl said. Where's the 'unlabeled' house?" he asks, letting the politeness of the Japanese get obscured by drawl. Like fuck was he going to let everyone think he was some goody-two-shoes.

Camp Fujin

Kit was running late. Fashionably late, if you were to ask him, but late nonetheless. The walk from school had always taken a bit, and he'd been in no rush to leave his friends for who-knows-how-long while he went to some weird summer camp, so it only made sense that the car dropped him off later than expected. If he'd waited a few minutes after the scarlet-haired girl had made it over to the others, well, that was his business.

As he strolled over to the group, he was glad for the heavy black boots that let him announce his presence without saying a word. Tucking his thumbs into the loops of his torn cornflower blue jeans, he whistles low, scanning over the mismatched group. His eyes catch on familiar pink hair, and he grins.

Another Camp Half Blood Rp-Rebooted

@PrincessVampora do you want to do the iris call in discord? it's an aside-piece, and jasper gave it the go-ahead

Camp Fujin

Kanai Yukito

Name:


Age:
17

Appearance:

Kit

Floppy blue-black hair, golden eyes, multiple piercings, and looping tattoos tend to draw stares, as one might expect. Kit embraces the attention, wearing loose shirts, bright colors, and thick-heeled combat boots that lend more height to his 179-cm frame. He flaunts his carefully constructed nonchalance with a leer or a smirk.

Bio:
TBR

Godly parent:
Benzaiten, goddess of all that flows

Powers:
≽Flow manipulation, currently limited to:

≻Liquid/water manipulation
≻Wave/sound manipulation

Theme song:
"And I did a lot wrong I can't make right
Never been a perfect soul
But I will not apologize"

Extras:
≽Likes: abandoned places, ghosts, compliments, colorful things
≽Dislikes: unnecessary noises, hospitals, American football
≽ plays a couple instruments, including the piano (instinctively knows how to play the biwa)
≽Weapon of choice: the tantō, specifically the one gifted to him

Furō