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    1. Wriggle 11 yrs ago

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Are you going to be a teacher or something?
*flaps around OOC* gaaahhhh ...so bored!
Yay! I shall do so first thing when I get home.
If you'd like we could totally do a Soul Eater rp? Or...something like Deadman Wonderland haha, both are awesome.
If you'd like, I could totally fill that role. =p
[Crow](http://imgur.com/F2uUAgk,C9gSqEz "enter image title here") Name: Lanister "Crow" Corvic Age At Death: 27 'Underworld' Age: 143 Gender: Male Personality: Though Crow grew up in a happy home, he was anything but. For some strange reasons, even as a young boy, he never found himself like the others. Always laughing, playing, running,...happy, but that was never him. No, he had something so much worse that made him smile, and he found his pleasure on a sunny afternoon, while on a after church strole. She looked so sweet, an innocent, but the blood from her fall lit a fire in the boy who stood over her. The black inner spiral that became himself is what anyone who encounters him feels. There isn't a sunny side to him. Just blood and murder. Bio: Having been born in the middle of nowhere Colorado, the young Lanister was a quiet baby. He didn't scream for milk, or anything, just whimpered if he had wetted himself.Both of his parents found it odd that such a beautiful baby could behave so oddly at all times. Eventually they became used to the silence, growing to love their son for everything he was and everything he could grow to be. It was what any child could wish for in a family. Five years into his life his family was blindsided by the change in the young boy, the cold stare that made even his father faulter at times. He started getting into trouble, throwing rocks at birds and killing small things with his hands. He even came home with blood all over his clothes one night, talking about how much noise the "Blasted bird brain" had made. His parents were at their wits ends by that time, having only seen him get worse from different attepted psychological fixes. They took him to the only place they could think to house such a little monster. An asylum. He was around eight when they put him in, though it seemed like he enjoyed where he was going, not arguing once with the adults. With him out of the house his parents felt rather empty, if not safer. They both went to work at different jobs, ending up in divorce a few years later. Lan's father came to see him several times throughout the years, but as the boy grew into a man, the visits stopped. On his twentieth birthday, his father sent him his last message, telling him happy birthday and to look forward to the years to come. It was just another thing Lan threw out. He was happy to finally not be connected in anyway to the people outside, it would make it easier to start things in the asylum. Oh he hadn't stopped killing once he was in, but he'd had to move on to larger targets. With so few documents on the late eighteen hundreds patients, hardly anyone noticed a few missing crazies. It was a picking ground for the twenty year olds pleasure. The younger girls were his favorite, not knowing what he was doing to them made it that much easier. His rampage only lasted so long, seven years, before one of his targets targetted him. The man had been a bruding, six foot eight inch individual with an undisclosed past. Lan had wanted to take a chance though. It cost him his life. He remembered a lot of blood, before he woke up in the Underworld, gasping for a breath that seemed like it wouldn't come. His time in the underworld kept going for 143 years, having joined the Wish Agency a month after his death. It wasn't a good fit, with the higher ups always demoting him through the ranks. This finally landed him practically out of the running for peace. But there was another direction, the Anti-Agency. He had heard of it on one or two of his missions, always laughing at the frightened tones of his co-workers. When he joined, it was like the asylum all over again. It almost made him pur. The whole purpose was to make chaos, make havoc. It was what he was good at. On his first mission he got to taste blood again, got to smear innocence over everything around him. He was free, and it was time to party. Agency (Wish or Anti): Anti-Agency Class: High- for the Anti-Agency **Overworld** (Land of the Living) [Blake](http://imgur.com/F2uUAgk,C9gSqEz#1 "enter image title here") Name: Blake MacBaile Age: 28 Gender: Male Bio: Blake was born in Northern Wisconsin, a business man's bastard. It was rather funny, later in life, to thing of a man like his father ever thrusting a woman from such a small town. Either way, he was raised in the same small town his mother was from, going to school there his entire life. At graduation, though, he couldn't stand the thought of being stuck in one place until he died. So he packed his bags and moved to Boston. It was an odd place to go, but he had always wanted to see the docks there and take in some piece of what felt like a different world. That was where he spent two months, before she felt the need to move again. He was always moving, like there was a voice in his head telling him where to go next. (Totally hints from Lan.) Job/Education(if in school): He is actually a carpenter, having been taught the trade by a neighbor down the road. He usually make enough from seeing his pieces to afford his food and lodgeing.
[Crow](http://imgur.com/F2uUAgk,C9gSqEz "enter image title here") Name: Lanister "Crow" Corvic Age At Death: 27 'Underworld' Age: 143 Gender: Male Personality: Though Crow grew up in a happy home, he was anything but. For some strange reasons, even as a young boy, he never found himself like the others. Always laughing, playing, running,...happy, but that was never him. No, he had something so much worse that made him smile, and he found his pleasure on a sunny afternoon, while on a after church strole. She looked so sweet, an innocent, but the blood from her fall lit a fire in the boy who stood over her. The black inner spiral that became himself is what anyone who encounters him feels. There isn't a sunny side to him. Just blood and murder. Bio: Having been born in the middle of nowhere Colorado, the young Lanister was a quiet baby. He didn't scream for milk, or anything, just whimpered if he had wetted himself.Both of his parents found it odd that such a beautiful baby could behave so oddly at all times. Eventually they became used to the silence, growing to love their son for everything he was and everything he could grow to be. It was what any child could wish for in a family. Five years into his life his family was blindsided by the change in the young boy, the cold stare that made even his father faulter at times. He started getting into trouble, throwing rocks at birds and killing small things with his hands. He even came home with blood all over his clothes one night, talking about how much noise the "Blasted bird brain" had made. His parents were at their wits ends by that time, having only seen him get worse from different attepted psychological fixes. They took him to the only place they could think to house such a little monster. An asylum. He was around eight when they put him in, though it seemed like he enjoyed where he was going, not arguing once with the adults. With him out of the house his parents felt rather empty, if not safer. They both went to work at different jobs, ending up in divorce a few years later. Lan's father came to see him several times throughout the years, but as the boy grew into a man, the visits stopped. On his twentieth birthday, his father sent him his last message, telling him happy birthday and to look forward to the years to come. It was just another thing Lan threw out. He was happy to finally not be connected in anyway to the people outside, it would make it easier to start things in the asylum. Oh he hadn't stopped killing once he was in, but he'd had to move on to larger targets. With so few documents on the late eighteen hundreds patients, hardly anyone noticed a few missing crazies. It was a picking ground for the twenty year olds pleasure. The younger girls were his favorite, not knowing what he was doing to them made it that much easier. His rampage only lasted so long, seven years, before one of his targets targetted him. The man had been a bruding, six foot eight inch individual with an undisclosed past. Lan had wanted to take a chance though. It cost him his life. He remembered a lot of blood, before he woke up in the Underworld, gasping for a breath that seemed like it wouldn't come. His time in the underworld kept going for 143 years, having joined the Wish Agency a month after his death. It wasn't a good fit, with the higher ups always demoting him through the ranks. This finally landed him practically out of the running for peace. But there was another direction, the Anti-Agency. He had heard of it on one or two of his missions, always laughing at the frightened tones of his co-workers. When he joined, it was like the asylum all over again. It almost made him pur. The whole purpose was to make chaos, make havoc. It was what he was good at. On his first mission he got to taste blood again, got to smear innocence over everything around him. He was free, and it was time to party. Agency (Wish or Anti): Anti-Agency Class: High- for the Anti-Agency **Overworld** (Land of the Living) [Blake](http://imgur.com/F2uUAgk,C9gSqEz#1 "enter image title here") Name: Blake MacBaile Age: 28 Gender: Male Bio: Blake was born in Northern Wisconsin, a business man's bastard. It was rather funny, later in life, to thing of a man like his father ever thrusting a woman from such a small town. Either way, he was raised in the same small town his mother was from, going to school there his entire life. At graduation, though, he couldn't stand the thought of being stuck in one place until he died. So he packed his bags and moved to Boston. It was an odd place to go, but he had always wanted to see the docks there and take in some piece of what felt like a different world. That was where he spent two months, before she felt the need to move again. He was always moving, like there was a voice in his head telling him where to go next. (Totally hints from Lan.) Job/Education(if in school): He is actually a carpenter, having been taught the trade by a neighbor down the road. He usually make enough from seeing his pieces to afford his food and lodgeing.
When the teacher looked to the boy, named Daniel, the warlock's smile grew. This guy was pretty average,...then and again that's what made him a rather interesting study. Lukin would have to inquire as to his life so far. That was until he felt the sickly vibration coming off of the witch behind him. There was such a nervous energy radiating from her that it honestly made him feel a little jittery as well. He pushed out tendrils from himself, trying to give her some sort of calm energy before she set the whole classroom a-buzz. Honestly he was concentrating so hard on those tendrils that he hardly noticed his name being called, but with a little lopsided grin he stood. For a seventeen year old ...he was rather tall. Though the wired muscles that spanned his body told of a life with some discipline. His black hair hid the blue well, unless he flashed his feathers or shook it up. He did neither so no one could see the odd colors. The deep voice seemed to absorb into the walls, the lilting accent made into a caress by the power that went with it. It was obviously a voice that wasn't done maturing, but once it did it could either be the most wonderful sound, or a terrible thunder. "Wonderful new year all, my name is Luke, my favorite color is turquoise....and my favorite author would have to be Anne Bishop." He gave a little head nod to the teacher before he sat down.
Nurg....o.o I hope we pick up soon hehe. >.< Everyone gets so busy with real life hehe.
It was odd, how when the two witches entered the room, Lukin smiled and pulled his energies in. They formed a small energy shield around him, invisible to humans. There was a strange itch on the back of his neck as the last few kids trickled in, though he couldn't tell which human was causing him to feel slightly sick. There was a feeling of red behind him, his black haired head turned toward the girl behind him. He couldn't see her face, but the side of her jacket was a wonderful shade of almost blood red. With a little snicker he ran a hand back through his hair, the low chuckle that followed a soft vibration. This would be a great year if he could just keep people with her witchy feel around him. Of course he didn't know what type of witch she was, so he still has reason to hold himself back. The guy who came up to ask her for the seat between them made him lift an eyebrow, before he pulled out his school book from his bag. The nature magic out the window didn't go unnoticed, but he didn't respond to it simply because it would have been obvious, and an intrusion. The teacher would have to start the lesson soon enough.
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