MsMorningstar

Ember Grove - Supernatural RP

Genesis Stewart

Genesis "Genny" Stewart Born October 3rd, 1996 🖤 22 Years Old 🖤 Female 🖤 From Nevada 🖤Candy, of all types 🖤Fighting 🖤Reading 🖤Pack life 🖤Music 🖤Dancing 🖤Vampires 🖤Hunters 🖤Feeling alone 🖤People that chew with their mouth open 🖤Super crunchy foods 🖤Beer 🖤Cooking 🖤Exercising/Training 🖤Scrapbooking 🖤Clubbing 🖤Sewing 🖤Easily Charismatic 🖤Dancing 🖤Compartmentalizing 🖤Fighting in Wolf Form and Human Form 🖤Sewing

"I'm only a coward when it matters." 6'1" 🖤 180 Lbs 🖤 Dark Brown Hair | Waist Length 🖤 Honey Colored Eyes 🖤 Brown Skin In the past, Genny's face was soft, with plumper cheeks and eyes full of naivete. Now, most of her features are angular. Her jawline is sharp, and her kohl-lined eyes are fierce. She's retained her lightly arched brows, and plump lips. Now, though, her lips are rarely without a thin coating of clear lip-gloss. Where she used to dress for comfort and warmth, she now dresses up everyday with the goal to impress. She has an industrial bar in her right ear, both lobes pierced, and a mid lip piercing. Despite --or perhaps, because of-- her height, she's quite slender, with little in the way of muscle. In her wolf form, she's quite muscular, with a wide chest, a more slender torso, and thick haunches. She stands at just under seven feet. Her fur is a light, mustard brown color. Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Single Predetermined Friends: Open to discuss Siblings: Dead Parents: Dead Open to Friendship: 5/10 Open to Romance: 4/10 Genny is a master at compartmentalizing. She lives many different lives, depending on what's in the forefront of her mind. Situations trigger her different states, as if she's in a trance. For example, her public life. Genny is quite approachable in public. She's incredibly charismatic, an aura of pleasantness and confidence following her wherever she goes. She's capable of giving harsh, realistic advice, but she does so in such a way that it seems caring and polite. When it comes to comforting, she's a shoulder to cry on. She's unafraid of personal contact, so if someone in need asks for a hug she'll happily oblige. Her personal life is vastly different, though. In private, Genny is a self-deprecating, emotional wreck. This is her purest form of existence. She's often crying in this state, as she recalls her past life, her family, and her many mistakes. She sees herself as less than, and there's not much that can be done about it. Whenever someone approaches this version of her, her public self rears its head and it's as if it never existed in the first place. Her last mask is used during conflict. It lacks empathy to the point of being sadistic. This is the version of herself that enjoys watching her enemy struggle like a mouse beneath her paw.

Two rival packs. One lead by Chase Stewart, the other lead by Alison Green. Their packs had many different ideals, and lived far too close for comfort in the Humboldt–Toiyabe National Forest. This caused conflicts, multiple deaths, and a sense of unease between the werewolves. Many leaders before Chase and Alison attempted to form alliances, to no avail. It was when Chase and Alison stepped up to the plate that grievances settled. An alliance was formed, and for several years things were calm.

Until Genesis was conceived.

Upon realizing she was pregnant, Alison requested that their packs become one, rather than functioning as allies. She also demanded that she be the head of their new pack. This demand lead to multiple squabbles between her and Chase. In the end, the two decided their packs were better off separate, and that their child would be raised in both territories, until she could determine where she was happy.

Passed between packs frequently after birth, Genesis was raised within two very different homes. Her mother treated her with disdain and frustration, not bothering to take the time to deal with her. Her father treated her as a potential successor, and by the age of seven she was being thrown into training rings with other young werewolves. She learned to fight well, enjoying the look of amusement and pride in her father’s eyes whenever she pummeled another werewolf into the ground.

Despite being cast aside by her mother, Genesis found both packs exciting and pleasant. When it came time for her to decide where she’d officially live, she was unable to pick. Because of this, she continued to be passed between territory lines until she turned sixteen and was able to drive across the borders.

On the night of Genesis' twentieth birthday, she was traveling back to her mother's pack when she caught the scent of blood. It permeated the air, so strong that it was like inhaling toxic fumes. Upon investigating the scent, she found the massacred corpses of her mother's pack. Her mother's corpse was still fresh in the pack house, glassy eyes staring up at her.

Hightailing it to her father's pack, Genesis caught the tail end of a bloody battle. Hunters had invaded in a large swarm, cutting through the pack with horrifying skill. They spared no one, and upon seeing the carnage, Genesis fled.

She traveled, until she came across Liam Donovan's nomad pack. Craving the comfort of a group, she stuck with them. She put on a pretty face, becoming Genny as a way to escape her life as Genesis. Deep down, she knows she's still the same mistake. She hasn't forgiven herself for that night, for not dying a fighter.

Vagus Lupi, Omega Pureblood

Ember Grove - Supernatural RP

Time: Night
Location: Ember Grove Park
Interactions: Cyler Johnson - @Pyxis
Vibes: “All my troubles seemed so far away...”

---

Leilani shambled across the field, on an unsteady path toward the park gate. Her car was waiting for her in the distance, silver exterior coated in a thin layer of dust. A small frown tugged at her lips. Once upon a time, she had it washed every other week. Now, she couldn’t be bothered. Pausing for a moment, she began to dig through her purse, seeking out her fluffy key-chain. That was when she heard it.

Footsteps.

She hadn’t been paying attention before, but now that she was still, they were evident. Resisting her immediate urge to panic and start walking faster toward her car, she slowly began to turn instead. Relief washed over her when she recognized who it was.

“Ah...hey, Cyler.” She smiled through her fatigue, raising a hand in greeting. Despite being hardly acquainted with the man, she had done her best to remember the names attached to friendly faces in her new home. Her gaze wandered over him, stopping for a moment as she took in the camera he was carrying. Every time she saw him, he had one in tow. Perking up visibly, she took a few steps closer.

“Got any good pictures?” She asked, wondering if he’d let her see. Some people kept their art to themselves, at least until it was perfect in their eyes. She was one of those types at times, if only because she was prone to changing directions over criticism. “It’s a nice night, huh?” She glanced around at the scenery that she struggled to sketch. The nights were usually beautiful in Ember Grove, a natural distraction from all the horrible things that happened there.

Stopping a few feet away, she searched his face. His features really reminded her of an ex, Cadence, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Cadence had dumped her the weekend before prom, after all. She cleared her throat, blinking to break her awkward staring.

“I was just about to head out...but I don’t really have anywhere to go.” The thought seemed sad at the moment. “Did you, uh, wanna do something? I haven’t seen much of this town and I’ve been here a month.” She forced a chuckle. “Will probably be here for a while, actually. Have a lot of time to spare." It was meant to come across as a sort of joke, but it fell flat. She opened her mouth again, but said nothing, clamping it shut after a couple seconds.

Ember Grove - Supernatural RP

Time: Night
Location: Ember Grove Park
Interactions: None
Vibes: “Most days I don’t recognize me…”

---

Leilani plodded through the park, her steps slowly becoming more and more of a shuffle. Mindlessly, she tightened her grip on the thick, twin size quilt around her shoulders. Made up of blue and pink patterned patches, it provided little warmth to an eternally frozen body, and no semblance of comfort. That being said, it would make a perfect buffer between her skin and the irritating blades of grass. Picking a random spot beneath a birch tree, she laid out the blanket, tugging at the corners and smoothing the surface to ensure there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. A breeze was nowhere to be found, so she didn’t bother to hunt for rocks to prevent the corners from peeling up. Settling down onto the quilt at last, she folded her legs neatly together, tucking her hands into her lap and releasing a deep sigh.

If she were still human, she would’ve described the moment as blissful. Eerily silent perhaps, but certainly calming.

She was not a human though. And silence was no longer a reality to her. Even now, she could hear the buzz of some grouping of insects a distance away, the rustling of rabbits as they disturbed the grass. The fall of a pine cone off a nearby tree. Her serenity was disrupted. Torn asunder by her new, heightened awareness.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been complaining. After all, she had been given a month to adjust. It wasn’t as if she were making zero progress. At first, she had been so overwhelmed she could barely leave her home on the estate. Now she could at least wander. Still, it managed to irk her. Not that she ever expressed this to the other members of her…clan. She did her best to act content around them. It was the least she could do, seeing as they had adopted her, after her sire had abandoned her on their doorstep like a defenseless babe in a basket.

Shaking her head, she struggled to clear her mind. Overthinking her issues wasn’t what she was there for. She had come to the park for a purpose, one that didn’t involve the relentless scratching in her throat and the emptiness in her gut.

Reaching into the satchel that was secured around her shoulder, she pushed aside the ration she had taken earlier and dug for her sketchbook. Taking it out alongside a charcoal pencil, she settled it in her lap and began flipping through the pages. The sketchbook was in great condition despite being almost two years old, each finished artwork painstakingly laminated to preserve the design etched on the thick paper. Finally, Leilani came across a blank page.

This was why she had traveled to the park in the middle of the night. She wished to restore her muse, which had died out in the past month. It was an irritating cycle. Every time she attempted to start a piece, she found herself drawing blanks, and ultimately ended up setting her pencil down or snapping it in an accidental showing of frustration. She could only hope that tonight would be different. The longer she went without her outlet, the more exhausted and angry she felt.

Holding her pencil delicately, she stared out into her surroundings, trying to feel the way she used to. She reminded herself that there were no expectations. That she was doing this for herself. She pushed at the block in her mind, disappointment filling her as she realized that there was nothing there.

She continued this for another ten minutes, at the very least. She tried closing her eyes, humming a tune, drawing random lines on her paper. She just couldn’t inspire herself. The longer she tried, the more persistent the scratching at her throat became. Finally, she pushed aside her sketchbook and replaced the pencil in her hand with a blood ration. Her fangs came out of their own volition, and she downed the thick, red liquid with a soft groan. It was the only thing that could satisfy her anymore, as one would expect. Not even sour candy packed the same punch.

She wiped at her lips, then brought her hand to her mouth in order to lap up any blood residue on the back of her fist. Sighing at her lack of control, she put everything back into her bag, rose to her feet, collected her blanket, and began wandering back in the direction of her car.

A bust. That’s what the night had been. She wasn’t sure if she’d try again the next evening.

Ember Grove - Supernatural RP

When Push Comes to Shove, Fall Over

Relationships Hider Sexuality: Bisexual Relationship Status: Single Pre-determined Friends?: None Siblings' Status: N/A Parents' Status: Gregory and Alma Caldera, Alive Pets: N/A Open To Friends: Nine Open To Romance: Five Personality Hider Leilani has never been known for her backbone. As a child, she allowed arts to be forced on her until she discovered that it was a competitive hobby. She prefers staying out of the way of conflict, and does what's necessary to avoid it. When a problem comes her way, she'll back out of the situation until she has time to think things over. Despite being a pushover, she does enjoy fun activities and the occasional risque scenario, so long as she has a friend in her corner backing her up. When it comes to romance, Leilani requires consistent advances. She's quite afraid of falling for someone that doesn't feel the same way, and mixed signals aren't her bread and butter. Friendship comes much easier to her, as she's capable of being empathetic and adapting to other people. She comes off as soft, more than threatening.

Interests Hider Likes: Sour Candy Sketching/Painting/Sculpting Thrift Shops Accents Singing The smell of paint Chips Dislikes: Plain Chocolate Hospitals People that drink milk from the carton Long lines Watching long movies Hobbies: Painting Singing Hiking (Occasionally, with friends.) Thrifting Skills: Running from her problems Preventing confrontation Singing Painting Sculpting Playing instruments (piano, guitar, flute) Background Hider History: Leilani grew up in a home where she was able to express herself through different mediums. Painting, singing, playing the recorder in her elementary school’s band. It was all accessible to her, and strongly encouraged. Holiday gifts were often art supplies, musical instruments, or CDs for her restored karaoke machine. If not because she expressed so much joy in partaking in these activities, then because her parents were living vicariously through her talents. It was true that they had been starving artists, forced to set aside their respective mediums in order to raise an unexpected child. Luckily, the amount of strain this put on their family was minor. While Leilani’s grandparents insisted on pushing her toward a more academic outlook, and went so far as to not attend her recitals, it was only a minor disturbance on what was undoubtedly a happy childhood. In Leilani’s teenage years, her love for art began to become more competitive. As a child, she dreamt of being a famous artist. Whether she would become known for her musical talents or her painting was unknown. Unfortunately, a sort of hierarchy was formed among those who were once in her social circle, and she fell into place toward the bottom of the totem pole. Her personality simply didn’t prepare her for the cutthroat attitude of those she had to compete with. Keeping her creativity as a hobby and an outlet, she dove more into her studies, much to her grandparents’ joy. Though she wasn’t talented academically by any means, she managed to keep up with those in the dead center of her class and passed by with mostly B’s. By senior year, she could barely remember her dream of becoming a star, sticking to a much more realistic goal of entering the workforce after graduation. Acquiring a job in retail in the middle of her Senior year, she was able to move out of her home right after graduation and into an apartment with two roommates. One of whom, was from Ember Grove. It was only two years after they moved in together that the roommate from Ember Grove, Trina, moved back to her hometown. Having made fast friends with the girl, Leilani promised that she would visit soon. Three years after that, and she finally made good on her promise. July twenty-fourth came, and she made her way over to the small town in South Carolina, looking to celebrate her friend’s birthday on the twenty-fifth. Unaware of the things that went bump in the night, Leilani was determined to make it back to her hotel room by herself, despite being less than sober. The memory of what happened to her that night was pieced together for her when she woke the next morning to a man offering her the wrist of a struggling human. Faced with a pathetic excuse of a choice, she tore into the arm of the human and followed the man all the way to the Báthory Clan, where he dumped her and left without a proper goodbye. Afraid of going back to her family, she decided instead to stay with the Báthory Clan, and has been working up the courage to tell her parents ever since. Clan: Báthory Clan Pureblood: No, bitten.

---

Genesis Stewart

Genesis "Genny" Stewart Born October 3rd, 1996 🖤 22 Years Old 🖤 Female 🖤 From Nevada 🖤Candy, of all types 🖤Fighting 🖤Reading 🖤Pack life 🖤Music 🖤Dancing 🖤Vampires 🖤Hunters 🖤Feeling alone 🖤People that chew with their mouth open 🖤Super crunchy foods 🖤Beer 🖤Cooking 🖤Exercising/Training 🖤Scrapbooking 🖤Clubbing 🖤Sewing 🖤Easily Charismatic 🖤Dancing 🖤Compartmentalizing 🖤Fighting in Wolf Form and Human Form 🖤Sewing

"I'm only a coward when it matters." 6'1" 🖤 180 Lbs 🖤 Dark Brown Hair | Waist Length 🖤 Honey Colored Eyes 🖤 Brown Skin In the past, Genny's face was soft, with plumper cheeks and eyes full of naivete. Now, most of her features are angular. Her jawline is sharp, and her kohl-lined eyes are fierce. She's retained her lightly arched brows, and plump lips. Now, though, her lips are rarely without a thin coating of clear lip-gloss. Where she used to dress for comfort and warmth, she now dresses up everyday with the goal to impress. She has an industrial bar in her right ear, both lobes pierced, and a mid lip piercing. Despite --or perhaps, because of-- her height, she's quite slender, with little in the way of muscle. In her wolf form, she's quite muscular, with a wide chest, a more slender torso, and thick haunches. She stands at just under seven feet. Her fur is a light, mustard brown color. Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Single Predetermined Friends: Open to discuss Siblings: N/A Parents: Dead Open to Friendship: 5/10 Open to Romance: 4/10 Genny is a master at compartmentalizing. She lives many different lives, depending on what's in the forefront of her mind. Situations trigger her different states, as if she's in a trance. For example, her public life. Genny is quite approachable in public. She's incredibly charismatic, an aura of pleasantness and confidence following her wherever she goes. She's capable of giving harsh, realistic advice, but she does so in such a way that it seems caring and polite. When it comes to comforting, she's a shoulder to cry on. She's unafraid of personal contact, so if someone in need asks for a hug she'll happily oblige. Her personal life is vastly different, though. In private, Genny is a self-deprecating, emotional wreck. This is her purest form of existence. She's often crying in this state, as she recalls her past life, her family, and her many mistakes. She sees herself as less than, and there's not much that can be done about it. Whenever someone approaches this version of her, her public self rears its head and it's as if it never existed in the first place. Her last mask is used during conflict. It lacks empathy to the point of being sadistic. This is the version of herself that enjoys watching her enemy struggle like a mouse beneath her paw.

Two rival packs. One lead by Chase Stewart, the other lead by Alison Green. Their packs had many different ideals, and lived far too close for comfort in the Humboldt–Toiyabe National Forest. This caused conflicts, multiple deaths, and a sense of unease between the werewolves. Many leaders before Chase and Alison attempted to form alliances, to no avail. It was when Chase and Alison stepped up to the plate that grievances settled. An alliance was formed, and for several years things were calm.

Until Genesis was conceived.

Upon realizing she was pregnant, Alison requested that their packs become one, rather than functioning as allies. She also demanded that she be the head of their new pack. This demand lead to multiple squabbles between her and Chase. In the end, the two decided their packs were better off separate, and that their child would be raised in both territories, until she could determine where she was happy.

Passed between packs frequently after birth, Genesis was raised within two very different homes. Her mother treated her with disdain and frustration, not bothering to take the time to deal with her. Her father treated her as a potential successor, and by the age of seven she was being thrown into training rings with other young werewolves. She learned to fight well, enjoying the look of amusement and pride in her father’s eyes whenever she pummeled another werewolf into the ground.

Despite being cast aside by her mother, Genesis found both packs exciting and pleasant. When it came time for her to decide where she’d officially live, she was unable to pick. Because of this, she continued to be passed between territory lines until she turned sixteen and was able to drive across the borders.

On the night of Genesis' twentieth birthday, she was traveling back to her mother's pack when she caught the scent of blood. It permeated the air, so strong that it was like inhaling toxic fumes. Upon investigating the scent, she found the massacred corpses of her mother's pack. Her mother's corpse was still fresh in the pack house, glassy eyes staring up at her.

Hightailing it to her father's pack, Genesis caught the tail end of a bloody battle. Hunters had invaded in a large swarm, cutting through the pack with horrifying skill. They spared no one, and upon seeing the carnage, Genesis fled.

She traveled, until she came across Liam Donovan's nomad pack. Craving the comfort of a group, she stuck with them. She put on a pretty face, becoming Genny as a way to escape her life as Genesis. Deep down, she knows she's still the same mistake. She hasn't forgiven herself for that night, for not dying a fighter.

Vagus Lupi, Omega Pureblood

Ember Grove - Supernatural RP

@princess Here she is! Hopefully this is fine, lol.

When Push Comes to Shove, Fall Over

Relationships Hider Sexuality: Bisexual Relationship Status: Single Pre-determined Friends?: None Siblings' Status: N/A Parents' Status: Gregory and Alma Caldera, Alive Pets: N/A Open To Friends: Nine Open To Romance: Five Personality Hider Leilani has never been known for her backbone. As a child, she allowed arts to be forced on her until she discovered that it was a competitive hobby. She prefers staying out of the way of conflict, and does what's necessary to avoid it. When a problem comes her way, she'll back out of the situation until she has time to think things over. Despite being a pushover, she does enjoy fun activities and the occasional risque scenario, so long as she has a friend in her corner backing her up. When it comes to romance, Leilani requires consistent advances. She's quite afraid of falling for someone that doesn't feel the same way, and mixed signals aren't her bread and butter. Friendship comes much easier to her, as she's capable of being empathetic and adapting to other people. She comes off as soft, more than threatening.

Interests Hider Likes: Sour Candy Sketching/Painting/Sculpting Thrift Shops Accents Singing The smell of paint Chips Dislikes: Plain Chocolate Hospitals People that drink milk from the carton Long lines Watching long movies Hobbies: Painting Singing Hiking (Occasionally, with friends.) Thrifting Skills: Running from her problems Preventing confrontation Singing Painting Sculpting Playing instruments (piano, guitar, flute) Background Hider History: Leilani grew up in a home where she was able to express herself through different mediums. Painting, singing, playing the recorder in her elementary school’s band. It was all accessible to her, and strongly encouraged. Holiday gifts were often art supplies, musical instruments, or CDs for her restored karaoke machine. If not because she expressed so much joy in partaking in these activities, then because her parents were living vicariously through her talents. It was true that they had been starving artists, forced to set aside their respective mediums in order to raise an unexpected child. Luckily, the amount of strain this put on their family was minor. While Leilani’s grandparents insisted on pushing her toward a more academic outlook, and went so far as to not attend her recitals, it was only a minor disturbance on what was undoubtedly a happy childhood. In Leilani’s teenage years, her love for art began to become more competitive. As a child, she dreamt of being a famous artist. Whether she would become known for her musical talents or her painting was unknown. Unfortunately, a sort of hierarchy was formed among those who were once in her social circle, and she fell into place toward the bottom of the totem pole. Her personality simply didn’t prepare her for the cutthroat attitude of those she had to compete with. Keeping her creativity as a hobby and an outlet, she dove more into her studies, much to her grandparents’ joy. Though she wasn’t talented academically by any means, she managed to keep up with those in the dead center of her class and passed by with mostly B’s. By senior year, she could barely remember her dream of becoming a star, sticking to a much more realistic goal of entering the workforce after graduation. Acquiring a job in retail in the middle of her Senior year, she was able to move out of her home right after graduation and into an apartment with two roommates. One of whom, was from Ember Grove. It was only two years after they moved in together that the roommate from Ember Grove, Trina, moved back to her hometown. Having made fast friends with the girl, Leilani promised that she would visit soon. Three years after that, and she finally made good on her promise. July twenty-fourth came, and she made her way over to the small town in South Carolina, looking to celebrate her friend’s birthday on the twenty-fifth. Unaware of the things that went bump in the night, Leilani was determined to make it back to her hotel room by herself, despite being less than sober. The memory of what happened to her that night was pieced together for her when she woke the next morning to a man offering her the wrist of a struggling human. Faced with a pathetic excuse of a choice, she tore into the arm of the human and followed the man all the way to the Báthory Clan, where he dumped her and left without a proper goodbye. Afraid of going back to her family, she decided instead to stay with the Báthory Clan, and has been working up the courage to tell her parents ever since. Clan: Báthory Clan Pureblood: No, bitten.

⚫ The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters ⚫

@Shard Here comes the rock puns!

Sticks and Stones Can't Break My Bones

---

Name

Constance Bellamy

Age

17 | Seventeen

Gender

Female

Ethnicity

⚫British, has lived in Cloud's Reach all her life.

Height

5'4" | 164cms

Weight

⚫Despite her slender appearance, Constance is incredibly weighty
⚫250 Lbs | 113 Kgs

---

Mutant's Mark

⚫ Constance's body is her Mark. Her skin is rough and grainy like stone.

Appearance

Constance is average when it comes to her garb. She dresses normally for the era, without putting much thought into her clothing. She doesn't accessorize, and since all makeup looks like grit on her skin she doesn't use that, either. Her eyes glow a bright orange color. Her hair is glittery and dark, similar to obsidian, and takes ages to grow but doesn't split easily.

Personality

Constance is remarkably easy to get along with. She's adaptable, and it usually only takes her a few interactions before she's figured out how to interact with someone. She's able to find her happy place easily, not one to overreact. She doesn't have much in the way of opinions, going with the flow and following whatever path she's placed on. If she's ever partnered with someone who's indecisive, she'll do her best to step up to the plate, but that usually leads to her following instinct rather than mapping things out.

---

Everyday Skills

⚫Constance is able to keep her space tidy.
⚫She's good at meditating and regulating most of her emotions.
⚫Constance is particularly good at dancing, especially leading.

Combat Skills

When in combat, Constance is usually on the offensive. She fights with her hands when it calls for it, but is often seen utilizing daggers. Her body is made for fighting and being a 'meat-shield', for lack of a better term. She doesn't back down easily, and will continue to brutalize an enemy until the fight has been unarguably won. Fighting is when her pent-up aggression comes out, and it takes a lot to come back down from the high.

Equipment

⚫Three daggers. One strapped to her ankle, and two attached to her wrists that can be easily hidden.

---

Powers
⚫ Constance's skin is as durable as stone, and has no sensation. If someone were to hit her with their bare hand, she wouldn't be affected. Nor would she feel it.
⚫ Constance's blood is like magma. When it spills, it hardens on the outside of her body to form a secondary shell similar to obsidian.

Weaknesses
⚫While Constance has extremely durable skin, her insides are still squishy. If someone can bash her enough, she'll experience internal damage. Her skin also cracks and becomes less resistant upon being pierced.
⚫ Being unable to feel when she's taking damage can be a bonus, but it also means that she doesn't know when to stop.
⚫ Constance's blood doesn't harden instantaneously, it takes about five-ten minutes before a soft shell is formed. It also can't harden when heated.

⚫ The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters ⚫

On Cloud Nine

---

Name

Benjamin Miller

Age

Eighteen | 18

Gender

Male

Ethnicity

⚫ British

Height

5'7" | 173cms

Weight

118 Lbs | 54 Kgs

---

Mutant's Mark

⚫ His luscious blue locks.

Appearance

Benny prefers to wear baggy clothing to allude to a larger frame. His hair is most often left messy, as any attempts at styling weigh it down to the point of it being a greaseball. His pale skin is often blushed at the cheeks. Aside from his hair and his nearly translucent skin, he's quite normal in the way of looks.

Personality

Benjamin's inherent nature is extremely kind. While he holds opinions, he does his best not to express them in overbearing, rude ways. He'll always lend a helping hand to someone in need, and prefers talk before a fight ensues. His moral compass is open, as he believes everything is ever-changing. He's also naturally good at delegating, or bossing people around, mostly due to his compassionate nature and ability to be kind when commanding.

---

Everyday Skills

⚫Benjamin has been complimented for his skills in public speaking.
⚫Benjamin is a good cook, and can make a nice meal with just about anything.

Combat Skills

Benjamin prefers to stay on the defensive, using his fast reflexes and developed blocking tactics to his advantage. He's best as a support, using his ability to block the opponent's line of sight.

Equipment

⚫Benjamin carries a wooden staff as his main weapon.

---

Powers
⚫ Benjamin's ability is creating "clouds". His sweat is notably different than the average person's, as when it is secreted it becomes gaseous, but remains dense enough to float in the air for long periods of time. It holds no odor, though the gas it forms is an opaque white color.
⚫ Benjamin is able to control his sweat secretion, and where it is located.

Weaknesses
⚫ Whenever Benjamin forms his clouds, he is just as unable to see through them as the next person.
⚫ Once Benjamin creates a cloud, he is unable to manipulate its shape and unable to take away from it. It lingers until the sweat dissipates entirely, which can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour.

---

Sticks and Stones Can't Break My Bones

---

Name

Constance Bellamy

Age

17 | Seventeen

Gender

Female

Ethnicity

⚫British, has lived in Cloud's Reach all her life.

Height

5'4" | 164cms

Weight

⚫Despite her slender appearance, Constance is incredibly weighty
⚫250 Lbs | 113 Kgs

---

Mutant's Mark

⚫ Constance's body is her Mark. Her skin is rough and grainy like stone.

Appearance

Constance is average when it comes to her garb. She dresses normally for the era, without putting much thought into her clothing. She doesn't accessorize, and since all makeup looks like grit on her skin she doesn't use that, either. Her eyes glow a bright orange color. Her hair is glittery and dark, similar to obsidian, and takes ages to grow but doesn't split easily.

Personality

Constance is remarkably easy to get along with. She's adaptable, and it usually only takes her a few interactions before she's figured out how to interact with someone. She's able to find her happy place easily, not one to overreact. She doesn't have much in the way of opinions, going with the flow and following whatever path she's placed on. If she's ever partnered with someone who's indecisive, she'll do her best to step up to the plate, but that usually leads to her following instinct rather than mapping things out.

---

Everyday Skills

⚫Constance is able to keep her space tidy.
⚫She's good at meditating and regulating most of her emotions.
⚫Constance is particularly good at dancing, especially leading.

Combat Skills

When in combat, Constance is usually on the offensive. She fights with her hands when it calls for it, but is often seen utilizing daggers. Her body is made for fighting and being a 'meat-shield', for lack of a better term. She doesn't back down easily, and will continue to brutalize an enemy until the fight has been unarguably won. Fighting is when her pent-up aggression comes out, and it takes a lot to come back down from the high.

Equipment

⚫Three daggers. One strapped to her ankle, and two attached to her wrists that can be easily hidden.

---

Powers
⚫ Constance's skin is as durable as stone, and has no sensation. If someone were to hit her with their bare hand, she wouldn't be affected. Nor would she feel it.
⚫ Constance's blood is like magma. When it spills, it hardens on the outside of her body to form a secondary shell similar to obsidian.

Weaknesses
⚫While Constance has extremely durable skin, her insides are still squishy. If someone can bash her enough, she'll experience internal damage. Her skin also cracks and becomes less resistant upon being pierced.
⚫ Being unable to feel when she's taking damage can be a bonus, but it also means that she doesn't know when to stop.
⚫ Constance's blood doesn't harden instantaneously, it takes about five-ten minutes before a soft shell is formed. It also can't harden when heated.

⚫ The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters ⚫

@Shard First character is done!

On Cloud Nine

---

Name

Benjamin Miller

Age

Eighteen | 18

Gender

Male

Ethnicity

⚫ British

Height

5'7" | 173cms

Weight

118 Lbs | 54 Kgs

---

Mutant's Mark

⚫ His luscious blue locks.

Appearance

Benny prefers to wear baggy clothing to allude to a larger frame. His hair is most often left messy, as any attempts at styling weigh it down to the point of it being a greaseball. His pale skin is often blushed at the cheeks. Aside from his hair and his nearly translucent skin, he's quite normal in the way of looks.

Personality

Benjamin's inherent nature is extremely kind. While he holds opinions, he does his best not to express them in overbearing, rude ways. He'll always lend a helping hand to someone in need, and prefers talk before a fight ensues. His moral compass is open, as he believes everything is ever-changing. He's also naturally good at delegating, or bossing people around, mostly due to his compassionate nature and ability to be kind when commanding.

---

Everyday Skills

⚫Benjamin has been complimented for his skills in public speaking.
⚫Benjamin is a good cook, and can make a nice meal with just about anything.

Combat Skills

Benjamin prefers to stay on the defensive, using his fast reflexes and developed blocking tactics to his advantage. He's best as a support, using his ability to block the opponent's line of sight.

Equipment

⚫Benjamin carries a wooden staff as his main weapon.

---

Powers
⚫ Benjamin's ability is creating "clouds". His sweat is notably different than the average person's, as when it is secreted it becomes gaseous, but remains dense enough to float in the air for long periods of time. It holds no odor, though the gas it forms is an opaque white color.
⚫ Benjamin is able to control his sweat secretion, and where it is located.

Weaknesses
⚫ Whenever Benjamin forms his clouds, he is just as unable to see through them as the next person.
⚫ Once Benjamin creates a cloud, he is unable to manipulate its shape and unable to take away from it. It lingers until the sweat dissipates entirely, which can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour.

The Red Hoods: Rebirth

Location: Unknown
Vibes: Sad song much sad.
Interactions: Bongo

---

Escape.

Escape was detrimental.

Stagnation was a killer. Every second she wasted was another second gifted to Samael. She knew this, she had made a promise to herself.

So why couldn't she move?

Was it the air here? So much thicker, it tasted dirty. Tainted. Like it needed to be run through a filter. Breathing it in was like snorting paste. And yet, it was still more refreshing than the air of the battlefield. The scent of blood, decay, all amplified by the rain. She shook it away, forcing back the thought, the hideous realization that she had been slipping around in the gore left behind by her fellow hoods. That their bits and pieces, their blood, was stuck to her skin.

It hadn't bothered her when the blood belonged to her Father, though, had it?

No, no, no. Not her father, not again. He was just a stain, a bloodied stain burned to ash and spread in the nearest ditch. She had made sure of it, he would not be coming back.

Only in her nightmares.

She wanted to move. She needed a drink.

Fingers, groping at her side, the movement was so fluid. Instinctual. There was nothing there, her flask was gone.

Teeth, grinding together slowly. A heaving breath, hands digging through hair. A low, garbled whine. She must've looked mad, doubling over just enough for a throbbing pain to spike in her side. Straightening, she gripped the air, dragging it down to her thighs in a fit.

The worst part? She wasn't present for it, she was only doing it. Going through the motions. She just needed to move! If she moved, she could find Samael. If she moved, she could get a drink.

Choppy breaths, blazing eyes. She forced a step forward. And another, another after that. She took methodical steps, until finally she broke into a casual stride. She could act normal. She had to act normal. Samael was probably watching her, laughing. Who wouldn't be amused by a woman going through a breakdown?

Her steps lead her to a gate, a scissor gate that was gleaming orange beneath the glow of two street lamps. Almost without thought, Eliza dug into her knapsack. She retrieved a charm, one of the last she had. Peered down at it, turning it over in her hand.

With a maniacal cry, she launched it at the gate, straight at the lock that was binding the two lengths of folding metal. In midair, the charm shifted, becoming a large chunk of earth.

The gate broke, and with it went a solid portion of Eliza's anger. Breaking things felt good.

But did it really? Yes.

It felt good, in the same way breaking her father had felt good. Even in the moments after, until Colin found her, and she felt guilty. But everyone needed a guilty pleasure, right?

Wrong. Right? She didn't know anymore. She just needed to walk.

And so she walked, down the grainy, albeit smooth stretch of outdoor flooring. She walked until she heard the chime of a bell, and pressed herself flat against the wall of the nearest building. One of the ones that stretched into the sky. One of the ones that was covered in windows, windows filled with lights.

She waited, breath catching in her throat, as the sound of the bell came closer. And closer. Then stopped, then started again. Then stopped.

Goddess, the bell was teasing her.

Finally, she broke away from the wall, peering around the corner. The sight that filled her eyes left her face scrunched with surprise.

A dog. Not of any breed that she had ever seen before, but a dog nonetheless. It was small, covered in tufts of white fur from head to toe. The fur looked so soft. Around its neck was a bell, tied to it by a handkerchief. It laid eyes upon her as well, and for a moment, Eliza crumpled under the weight of desire.

She wanted to pet the dog.

Crouching down, the dog immediately raced forward, prancing with paws lifting up in exaggerated motions. She allowed it to sniff her hand, a hoarse giggle escaping her as it licked her palm.

Scooping the small creature up into her arms, Eliza slouched against a building, marveling at the puppy. She had never met one so friendly. She stood there for a time, stroking the creature's fur and letting it writhe in her hands excitedly.

She was almost too enamored to catch the light. The clicking and whistling, the calling of a name. Bongo. The dog seemed to writhe more furiously at the sound. Eliza considered rushing to the other side of the building, but by the time she moved it was too late.

A beam of light hit the side of her face, and she froze. She glanced to her side, catching the eye of a relieved man in a similar outfit to her own.

"Oh, thank fuck, you found my dog!"

The Red Hoods: Rebirth

Location: Unknown
Vibes: "I'll only hurt you if you let me..."
Interactions: None

---

For many moments, for whole lifetimes, Eliza was just a ripple. A passing breeze. The odd, feathery touch that sends shivers down one's spine. She was the familiar stranger in the corner of someone's vision, that disappeared upon a second glance.

Briefly, she was spread into nothingness, becoming a fragile part of the all-encompassing void. Just as suddenly, she was mashed together, a boneless lump of molten flesh and gore.

She felt nothing, was numb to it all and somehow present for every moment of it. It was as if she were seeing it from an onlooker's point of view. Perhaps she was. After all, she hadn't a clue where her eyes were during all of this.

It was an experience for the history books, truly. It was a moment where she was all, and she was nothing. It was like being carried through a dream by Felicity. In this dream, though, she was the interpreter. For a moment, she was enlightened.

Then, she was coughed out.

~*~*~*~

"'Liza, I'm home!" Ethaniel called, a merry lilt to his tone. His short, casual strides carried him to their small kitchen, where he paused and popped his head into the alcove that housed their dining table.

Eliza wasn't there, working on her charms as he had told her to. A lump of clay remained on the table, untouched. That meant she was somewhere else, doing Mother knows what. Assumptions traveled like lightning through Ethaniel's mind, very few of which soothing.

For all he knew, she could have been taking a nap in her room. She had been acting more sluggish lately. On the other hand, she could be terrorizing the next village over. Her newfound, violent tendencies were becoming more of a pain to deal with. Every hex thrown his way was another waste of energy on both their parts. She was too weak to harm him, and he was too weakhearted to punish her properly.

Perhaps, in another life, he would've thrown her out. Abandoned her on the streets with a bit of money, just so she could drink herself to death. Maybe this darker version of himself would have abused the inkling of loyalty that was bubbling up within her, just as her father had. Trashed her, completely and utterly. It wouldn't have been hard. No one would take the time to mourn her ruination. To most, she was scum.

But not to him.

For the short time they had known each other, she had made a great impression upon him. Whenever her mood swings weren't weighing her down, he caught glimpses of her true persona. She was compassionate, despite her past misfortunes, or perhaps because of them. Her truest self was eager. Eager for love, and joy, and someone who could take care of her in the way her mother and father hadn't. He wanted to be that person. More than that. He wanted to see her succeed, if not because he cared, then because he wished to be the person behind someone else's success.

He would get her there, past boundaries she didn't even know she had.

To begin that process, though, he had to find her.

One-by-one, he checked her room, then the oversized study that dwarfed the rest of the house, then the garden outside. If she was around, there was only one other place she could be.

Creeping into his room, he let a curse loose under his breath as he laid eyes upon her. She sat in the corner of his quarters, staring up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. They were glossed over, and unfocused.

In her arms, she cradled a bottle of wine that was almost empty.

"How long was I gone?" His tone was accusatory, and when she flinched back, he realized it may have been overly so.

"An...hour?" Eliza replied, blinking every second, as she repeatedly lost focus.

"Was that long enough to drain an entire bottle of wine on your own?" He kept his tone inquisitive, light. He didn't want to put too much blame on her in this state, they'd have to talk more when she sobered up.

"No...but--" She cut herself off, nibbling on her lower lip as tears welled in her eyes. "P-Please don't throw me out!" Her slurs came out beside soft sobs.

Ethaniel quickly shook his head, throwing up his hands defensively. "Eliza, I wouldn't abandon you." His affirmation seemed to do its job, as her tremors slowed significantly. "I just don't know why you've done this to yourself, that's all."

"I have...haven't, I haven't been myself. I keep getting so...so angry and I-I can't take it anymore!" Her tone was louder than before, though still incoherent. She stared down at her hands, past the bottle folded gently between her arms. In a pathetic fit, she shook them, clutching her twitching fingers.

Ethaniel sighed, continuing his approach. At last, he crouched down beside her. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. Pooling tears fell in rapid streams down her face. "Eliza, would you like to know what I think?"

"Yes, Ethaniel." She replied, after a few moments of blatant processing.

"I think I can handle the crying, and the anger, and having to force you out of bed in the morning, because I know you're worth the effort." He paused, reaching out to take hold of the wine bottle. She clung to it momentarily, before relinquishing it to him. "What I can't handle is seeing you like this. Drunk and slurring each word, deprecating yourself. This?" He shook the bottle, making sure she focused on it for a solid moment. "This isn't a solution, it is a cause. Until you're able to learn that, you will keep falling back on this 'miracle cure'. You'll do it 'till you die."

He stood, letting his telekinesis take the bottle to the other side of the room. Holding out a hand, he offered her a way up. "Do you want to die, Eliza?"

Eliza didn't have to consider this. The answer was clear enough. "N-No!"

"Then don't continue to force death upon yourself. Get up, Eliza."

~*~*~*~

Get up, Eliza.

Get up...

Get up...

Get up!

Eliza sucked in a sharp breath, the simple act causing a vicious stabbing pain in her side. She hissed, clutching her side with numb fingers. Slowly, she sat up, strained muscles pulling at the movement.

How long had she been asleep? A hand shot to the mud caking her face. It was dry. A glance at the sky informed her that it wasn't raining. How far had they traveled, exactly? It didn't matter. She'd make her way back home eventually. For now, she had to get her bearings. This place, wherever it was, was a haven for Samael. That meant she wasn't safe. Not yet, at least.

Pulling herself to her feet unsteadily, she took her first look at her surroundings. What she saw amazed her.

Up in the sky were thousands of lights. Like stars, but hung in midair. They didn't twinkle, staying firm in their nigh orange coloration. And they were so close, closer than any star she had ever seen. It was as if she could touch them. Perhaps she could, in this foreign place. Once the mission was done, she would make a point out of approaching these wondrous lights. For now, though, she had to focus on the task at hand.

A row of tall evergreen trees about three hundred yards away surrounded her, the thick boughs interlocking and creating a wall that was difficult to see beyond. She shook off the feeling of entrapment, continuing her sweep. A fine brick building was only a short distance away, made up in a style of architecture Eliza hadn't witnessed before. Upon seeing it, Eliza tensed. It was more than likely that this building housed her enemy. Were the others already within? She couldn't hear any sort of commotion...perhaps they were already dead.

Eliza patted the sheath where her dagger had been, scowling as she recalled it being thrown from her hand. She'd have to rely on her magic, which was practically nonexistent against someone of Samael's caliber.

Creeping toward the building, she willed adrenaline to come to her aid. None joined the battle, however, leaving her stranded. She could feel just how sluggish she was. By the time she had approached the building, she had stopped trying to be stealthy. At this point, Samael knew she was coming. It was only a matter of when, she supposed.

Walking around the building, she searched for an entrance. There was only one, in what she presumed to be the front. Surrounding the door was two large windows, a peek inside revealed to her racks of clothing in bright fabrics and strange designs. Things one could only find in Sinstead, though the makeups were foreign to her, and this was certainly not the crowded city of debauchery.

Gritting her teeth, Eliza pulled on the plain silver doorknob, marveling as it opened easily for her. She had been expecting some form of resistance. Then again, Samael gave off the image of a cocky asshole. Stepping inside, she tried to leave the door hanging open. As if by magic, though, it swung closed slowly behind her.

Samael had to be there.

"Samael!" Eliza called, throwing all caution to the wind. For a few moments, she waited. When no one popped out of the darkness, she began searching the premises. Finding...nothing.

Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

Doors marked with the words 'MEN' and 'WOMEN' lead her to rooms full of curtains hanging on metal rods, all of which guarding empty alcoves. Around the main room that she had walked into there were strange pieces of merchandise made of clear or semi-transparent material Eliza had never before seen. It was hard to the touch, but when she put her hand behind it she could see through it. The clothes on the racks felt so very soft, in colors brighter than she could ever have imagined from fabric.

While this was all well and good, Eliza was extremely disappointed. After all, Samael was nowhere to be found, there were no ghouls or the dead bodies of those who had jumped in before her. It was just an empty shop of some sort. Eliza concluded that they had all been dropped off at different locations. An advanced portal trick, but one Samael could surely pull off.

Taking advantage of what she had been blessed with, Eliza stripped out of her clothing. Reluctantly, she abandoned her yellow hood, which was little more than a tattered piece of fabric stained with blood and dirt. She traded it out for the strange soft clothing, picking out a black outfit with leggings that hugged her body like a second skin and an overly-thick, hooded blouse that draped over her body like a blanket. It didn't combat the itching on her flesh from the mud she had rolled in, but it was comfortable and nondescript.

Leaving the shop behind, she stepped into the cool night. She stared, for a moment at the evergreen trees surrounding her. Then, at the strange lights in the distance. Samael was out there, somewhere.

She swore to herself that she would find him.