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Author Topic: Dancing Dreams [All are welcomed here]  (Read 166 times)

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Offline FroreQueenTopic starter

Dancing Dreams [All are welcomed here]
« on: December 08, 2015, 12:08:42 AM »
Shall We Dance?
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Compilation of On/Off’s, general Role-Playing preferences, and Characters
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Please note that if something is not listed then I might just be open to it. I will try about anything once or twice if it manages to catch my fancy.
The list will be updated as I continue my explorations of this world


Jump over to Fragmented Moves for a compilation of creative Ideas, plots, and possible characters.

Step 1 – The Moves [On/Off’s]
Step 2 – The Stage [Style Preference]
Step 3 – The Instruments [Characters]
 Step 4 – Symphony [Role Plays]


Following the lead
  • Romance ♥ In all senses of the word. I adore the build up of it, the slow realization that there is more there than what can be seen.
    - I wanted to mention that I swoon for characters that are a little rough around the edges and yet kind at heart, at least towards the one they are falling for.
  • Seduction: Listed after romance for a reason. None of my [serious] characters will just jump into a relationship/bed unless there is a good story around the idea.
  • Complex characters + Character development: Everyone has a story and a past, I like to explore those and see what exactly makes a character act the way they do.
  • Tension: This goes for sexual tension and the regular run of the mill kind. No two people will completely agree on everything, there has to be differences just as there are similarities.
  • Biting & Scratching: Light to Heavy depending on the context and the character. I do enjoy this though, that moment when you have to anchor your nails into your partners back because the world is falling away in a wake of ecstasy.
  • Battle of Control: Simply meaning that most of my creations are not outright submissive so it takes a strong personality to dominate them. I also like when they get control, a sort of give and take between characters.

Stepping on toes
  • God-Mode: Any kind of this will kill my muse. Even if you are 100% sure of what my character might say or do, please don’t just put it in your post. If it is absolutely necessary then feel free to talk to me so that the reaction will remain true my character.
  • Toilet Play: While I respect those who enjoy this, it is not a personal preference of mine and I therefore ask for it to be excluded from my role-plays.
  • Unintelligent characters: I understand naivety and ignorance to an extent but if there is truly nothing to work with then the story would quickly die.
  • Cannibalism: Does not fully imply I am against vore nor does this count for characters that take trophies [Hearts to use/devour, etc.]. I just don’t enjoy reading about characters killing then cutting off bits of flesh to eat. Not sure if it so much as turns my stomach as it sidetracks my muse.

The Stage
 A little bit about the mad woman behind the curtain.

Writing is a profound addiction, it has no equal. For what other drug lets you explore such vast worlds, seeing things from so many different perspectives? What could compare to the rush of madness and the serenity of silence it brings?
I’ve been everything from the fanciful beast of oblivion to the ruler of a band of thieves. Gender matters not to me, though I have a tendency to play what I know best - Females. While I am adept at playing a variety of different personalities, I fear my downfall is weak willed characters. I cannot, nor do I wish to, create something that is passive enough for this role to be properly portrayed. I do not enjoy the meek, I prefer a challenge of sorts. A battle of wills so to speak.
I generally write in paragraph form and kindly expect the same from my partners. While I do not need to see every blade of grass, I need a decent picture to work with. Tiny expressions give away thoughts and the littlest of actions can have the greatest of meanings. I try to give details that can be worked with, from an anomaly in the scenery to a mere hint of something wrong with a creation. Give me something to go off and I’ll gladly do the same.
You will likely notice a theme in my tales and in my ideas, I enjoy a varied verse. More than just a meeting of chance and a love of happenstance. My characters have quirks, they have problems and fears. There are some with the power of gods and yet even they have weaknesses and flaws. Throw in some action, a touch of drama, and perhaps a pinch of adventure. Top it off with a little romance and who knows what could happen.
On a side note, I am a hopeless romantic. I understand the carnal nature of the site and while I am not opposed to such, I need more than smut. I need a story. It may be only a few cherished verses or the story of a lifetime in the making... whatever the case, I need some backbone to the world before sins of the flesh get involved. If you choose to go for story and the bittersweet tension of characters slowly growing on one another, I will be forever hooked. I can’t begin to express how much I enjoy the development of characters and the startlingly realization that perhaps there is more there.
 Lastly! As with any dance, partners must agree upon the method in which this madness precedes. I have personally come to favor the forum type of setting, it gives everyone ample time to read over their posts and reply. I am open to forum, google docs, skype, and e-mail correspondences.


Ways to contact me other than Elliquiy:
Skype: FroreQueen
Yahoo! Instant Messenger: pixiexdustxisxmagicxcrack

« Last Edit: December 09, 2015, 11:45:06 PM by FroreQueen »

Offline FroreQueenTopic starter

The Instruments
« Reply #1 on: December 08, 2015, 12:12:48 AM »
The Instruments

These are the instruments I have fashioned from scratch; I have tempered their souls with a blend of bliss and strife. They are perfectly imperfect. No creation of mine will ever be flawless, for they have all survived something. Whether it’s the mere tone of an everyday existence as a not so simple human or the tragedy of a broken mind, they are given life by their flaws. Each has a quirk or two that gets in their own way, each is different. I pour a part of my soul into them to make their lives as believable as possible.
That being said, I would like to mention one very important thing here… I don’t often have a true back-story posted up. Why? Because, to me, that feels like I’m giving away too much. It ruins the fog of their past and takes that edge of mystery away from them. More often than not, I have up snippets of writing so that you can get a taste for them. Each one has a different sort of style, a different view on the world. That being said, I do have a couple that have histories to show you a touch of why they are the way they are.
So if you feel up to taking the time to know them, then please come on in. Hum a few notes and peruse my little monsters of insanity.

Bandit Queen
Name: Sovereign
Gender: Female
Between fantasy and reality, she has carved out her place in the world. Building an empire for her people, welcoming all who seek peace. She rules a house of monsters, stalks the streets unseen, and keeps her city in order.
Ruler of the Damned

The putrid reek of vile was all she could smell in this tiny windowless room. It was the place that birthed nightmares, a section of the old city that refused to die. Where there is peace, there is always someone lurking in the shadows ready to disrupt it. This had been her destination, her goal, for the past three nights. Except something out there was stalking her prey, feasting on those that terrorized the people. If only she knew what its goal was, why it had come here. Why it seemed to hunt only certain people.
Fire danced at her fingertips, the candle reaching towards her as she held the blade above it. Her voice was strong, though notes of her exhaustion leaked through, “I will not ask you again, Serge.”
The brute of a man spat at her feet, straining at his ties, “I know nothing! You can tell that to your whore of a Queen!” He was shouting at her, cursing her though he didn’t know her name. Didn’t see the distinct features of her face. He missed the delicate curve of her lips as she grinned at him.
Dirt and dried darkness shifted beneath her boots as she crouched in front of him, “We all have a darkness inside of us. A monster we keep locked up, a voice that pushes us towards those primal feelings. We keep ourselves in check, we hold our punches and stay our blades.” She brought the knife to his cheek, raising her voice over his scream of pain, “It keeps people happy, knowing that our demons will never touch them. That this city is their sanctuary from such cruelties.” She softly sighed, “You threatened that peace. You brought monsters in and turned them loose.”
All the curses in the world couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes, the way he trembled as he fixated on her knife. Such a small instrument of destruction. “You are a fool.” He damned them all to the underworld, swore that every dark deity would drag them under. His screams echoed around the room well after she put her blade away. Only a ruined mess of a man left at her feet, “I offered you protection, freedom from tyrants, I granted you asylum. Let your broken body be a message to your followers. I will hunt every last one of you down. I will not let my city fall.”
He was left where she had found him, left to live or die at the hands of another. It no longer mattered to her, word would spread of what had happened. At least in this dark part of her world, those that cast a blind eye towards the shadows would be safe. They would know that their Queen watched out for them. That she was the baddest monster in the dark. And she would fight tooth and nail to keep that title.

Cecillia Nightshade
Name: Cecillia Nightshade
Gender: Female
Age: Unknown
Race: Unknown
Cecillia was blinded long ago, there is a rather large scar over her left eye that she keeps covered. She aided by her seven shadow entities and a living serpentine piece of jewelry that helps direct her. Known to travel quite a bit, she doesn’t stay in one place for very long. Often playing her cello with her band at various lounges or inns to earn money before she is off again.
Details and story snippet.

Height: 5’3”
Weight: 115
Build: Slender
Hair: White with a very light violet hue at the roots.
Eyes: The right is a deep amethyst coloration while the left remains covered in some form or fashion.
*Blood: Poison if ingested, injected, or prolonged topical exposure occur. Note that this is only blood drawn directly from the Jugular, Femoral, and/or Axillary veins. Symptoms are akin to a mix of Belladonna and digitalis/Foxglove. Including but not limited to: Mydriasis, extreme hallucinations, loud heartbeat that’s audible at several feet away, delirium, severe headache, aggressive behavior, and various cerebral disturbances, especially of a visual nature. Often fatal. Reaction time can be anywhere from instantaneous to a couple of minutes. Rare cases with abnormally strong creatures or creatures lacking a circulatory system the effects can take an hour or two.
*Blood: Psychedelic if ingested, injected, or prolonged topical exposure occur
Note that this is blood pertained from surface scratches, shallow wounds, and/or the palmar veins. Reactions include but are not limited to: Hallucinations, changes of perception, synesthesia, altered states of awareness, and occasionally states resembling psychosis.
Devilishly Delightful

The world faded into silence as Cecillia stepped onto the stage, a rich black dress clinging to her form. The material shifted in the spotlight, seemed to shimmer with life as she moved. Standing by her cello, she tested a few notes, making sure her instrument was tuned as well as giving her a minute to feel the crowd. They were a ground of frazzled emotions, some happy, some sad. Most of them anxious, their unease nearly palatable. Something tickled the edge of her awareness, an unease in her gut.
Cecillia took a deep breath to settle her nerves, this was her world. She was safe, her monsters would always make sure of that. Her only true friends and companions. Moments before the crowd began to grow restless, she started. Slow, soft and sweet notes. Her cello silencing the room, pulling them in. She wanted their attention, demanded it with her music and her attire. Heels and a dress to die for, the material split at her thigh to show off her long legs. Pale flesh dazzling beneath the lights. She was ghost, a mirage, ethereal in both form and music. She stole their breath away, took them to their childhood dreams. She comforted them, relaxed them.
Then she led them to ruin, guided them towards their nightmares. You couldn’t truly enjoy the sunlight if you had never been plunged into darkness. Her dress shimmered, darkness falling from it to reveal its violet color beneath. She shed shadows, inky black figures that twisted into vaguely human shapes. They pulled instruments from thin air, drawing a frenzied cheer from the crowd. One by one they joined her, a band of five. Each with their own style that mixed seamlessly with hers.
Together they plunged the crowd into darkness, pulled it from the edge of madness and showed it the light. She played for nearly an hour straight, entrancing people, keeping them there. A crowd gathered in the back, people coming in for the music, unable to leave until she was done. Her band feasted, dancing around her on the stage, they matched her every move. She played until her arms ached, until her mind was a mess of emotions. She fed the crowd her feelings, poured them out in her music and in turn they fed her monsters. By the end she had them cheering and crying, standing and clapping. They wanted more but they did not demand it, did not shout for her to continue. She had pushed them to their breaking points, had drawn everything she could from them.
One by one the members of her band made their instruments disappear, standing around her and slowly fading. A final bow and her dress was back to being black, as if it had all been a trick of light. Only a show for the crowd. They had no idea what monsters paraded before them. Wolves that had slaughtered the sheep and barely fit the skins left behind. Yet they would not harm these patrons, not as long as they provided such a feast.
She made her way off the stage, practiced steps taking her to a table on the main floor. A small break was all she had, another band coming on stage to play a soft melody. Fifteen minutes she would be back up there, though not so frenzied as she had been in the beginning. She had all night to play for these people, all night to push and pull them from their comfort zones.

Eris - Goddess of Chaos

Name Eris
Gender Female
Eris is a shamble of a monster, she was crafted to unbalance the world and pull things apart for mere amusement. She is destructive in the most basic of senses, the way her mind works is chaotic. From friendly to tearing things apart to see how they work, she is fueled by her whims. Vast and incomprehensible, Eris often talks in the second person, seeing both what was and could be play out in her mind. Though she a fearsome creature, it takes quite a bit for her focus on a singular task. As such, she is drawn to new things and things with a vastly uncertain outcome. Eris enjoys two forms, a four legged chimera of her own making and a humanoid figure.

Details of a Monster

Race: Unknown
Gender Female
Hair: Black
Eyes: The Right is violet while the left is copper
Humanoid Height: 6’ 3”
Catalyst of Chaos

Sensation stirred movement, a being devoid of light unseen in a world of black. Ancient eyes cracked open, piercing the darkness as easily as day. Amber and amethyst watched the nothingness, a sense of unease flitting through a mind focused elsewhere. Time meant nothing, days or decades were all the same. Seconds or hours blurred, became meaningless as pieces came together. A million parts put in place, removed and rearranged with barely a thought to them. Treasures killed for to keep, favorites of an incomplete puzzle.
Missing. Something was missing, always missing. Insanity had robbed the name of it from her, clarity had given only purpose. Consume. Devour. Find. It would be clear when she found it, until then... Slumber became the only solace. The only escape. Dreams danced in the shadows of a mind too vast to grasp; worlds that had been fostered and decimated on whims. Once a Goddess, then a Demon. A myth turned nightmare. Creator turned destroyer. Order had no appeal, it became monotonous. Predictable.
Stars blinked into life, into focus as the shadows converged upon one another. Darkness taking form, revealing a playground of a galaxy. Clusters here and there, grouped together like personal experiments. Dwarf stars were gathered closest, giants pushed further out, their deaths imminent in the way that all things faded for immortals. Supernovas twisted with brilliant colors, though they too were clustered a little too close together. The flitting thoughts of madness, stars charged with too much power, some drained until they barely burned.
Creatively chaotic, potentially devastating.
A flick of a talon had stars colliding, the battle between their forces holding her mind for mere minutes. The same, almost always the same. Once, there had been more. A greater force, a monstrosity of a gamble. Life had been formed, brilliant life that she had ripped asunder. Pieces. She just wanted the pieces to fit.
Power rumbled in her veins as she twisted around. Infinite form watched, waited. Something was coming, pushing back her darkness. No. There. It was there and here, but had been missed. Overlooked. Insignificant in its force of life. Still, to get here, to survive was intriguing. Perplexing. She had felt no shift of the place between places, no shudder of her personal ‘door’ so to speak. Where then... The galaxy tilted, or rather, Eris shifted it to its side and observed.
Form condensed, flesh tightening and bones rearranging until she matched the size of her uninvited guest. Cosmic power shifted, a floor of stars solidifying beneath her feet so that they could stand on even ground. A courtesy born of curiosity. Her voice was there and not, a booming collision of supernovas in the mind. Invasive, explosive. Chaotic as she was, unchecked as she had been for millenniums. “Not invited.” Form fell to pieces and rearranged itself again in seconds, flashes of her being there and being nothing. “Not unwelcomed.”
The floor that was there and not tilted as she did, the focal point subjective. There was no definitive up or down, only a here and there. The galaxy above and then below before she truly saw. Or rather, before she took notice of what she saw. Stars. Stars that weren’t hers, that did not belong. There was a taste on the tip of her tongue, a notion to devour and explore. Crack open what stood before her and examine the pieces.
Closer she moved, muscles quivering with anticipation. Would it enlighten this lingering loss of sanity. The picture would not be complete, but perhaps it held a piece of her puzzle.One bite, one break. Darkness curled around her ivory teeth, spilling from her maw, “What do stars seek?”

Kalika Kali Ma – Unseelie Fae
Name Kalika Kali Ma
Age: About 200 in human years.
Race: Unseelie Sidhe [Dark Fae Royalty]
Gender: Female
She would make a deal with the Devil if it was in her favor. Kalika uses any leverage she can to get what she wants. She is an enigma to her kind, never found in the Unseelie realm unless its to stir up trouble and aggravate the guards. Fae hunt her though they are only successful at wounding her when they do find her. She feeds off strong emotions and rarely ever shows that she does in fact have a softer side to her. Kalika is best suited for darker themed dances with strong undercurrents of romance throughout them.

Details of a Fae Outcast
Hair: Black with white and gray undertones
Eyes: Black and Silver
Height: 5’4 – 5’9 [With her boots on]
· Top: Corset. Laced on the back and sides. ‘V’ cut so that it shows cleavage, black lace makes it more appropriate for public though some would still frown upon the provocative look. Hugging against her skin it parts at her navel and slowly curves to the edge of her hips.
· Bottom: Polished leather like material that hugs her hips
· Feet: Boots. Black design with spiked heels.
· Material of her clothing is not of this world, made from Fae by Fae it moves and feels like silk while holding some resistance to magic and weaponry.
· Ears have a subtle point
· Wings: Four nearly translucent wings with silvery veins through them. Not always visible. 10 ft span
· Scars along her torso, marking her fights with other Unseelie and the monsters of the Dark Court.
· Aura/Darkness: Only when truly angry does this come into play... It radiates from her, suffocating and rumbling like a storm. Taking shape and form of miniature beasts.
· Charm/Seduction: She has no quarrel about using her body to get what she wants. Able to read subtle body language of others she can respond appropriately to sway their opinion of her. Though she can't outright change their minds if they’re set on something, she can easily tempt those attracted to her.
· Darkness: She virtually disappears in the darkness, finding solace at night beneath the dark of the moon. It also gives her strength and advances some of her powers.
· Emotion: Humans have a wide and confusing array of emotions though she can gain energy from the most primal- Fear. Anger. Hatred.
· Sight: She can see farther than humans, things have a sharper image with higher contrast to them. Can also pierce through glamour with True Sight.
· Speed: She is quick of her feet, not as fast as leeches or mutts but quick enough to surprise most.
· Strength: Despite her small stature she is surprising powerful, doubling what even most humans call strong.
· Debt: Help her, whether she wants it or not, and she feels that she is in that other persons debt. It can either be paid back by an act of the same degree, an oath to take action on another or to be called upon at a different time.
· Emotions: Feeding on them may grant her power but too many humans with conflicting emotions drain her. Confusing her senses.
· Iron: Tolerable in some forms it burns like a severe allergic reaction. If ingested it has a high possibility of killing her. She cannot touch it for long without reacting appropriately with snarls and curses.
· Light: Mainly the sun. It weakens her abilities of strength and speed as well how she feeds off emotions. None of her powers work as well during the day whether she’s in direct light or in the cover of a building.
· Oath: She is bound by her word. Speaking the truth or around it in the form of a ‘white lie.’
Summoning a Kelpie

Brilliant strokes of red and gold reached out with malice, firelight in its final throes. Starburst-silver eyes ached with a familiar burn as Kalika gazed towards the setting sun, waiting as her shadow began to stretch its claws. Darkness consumed her for a brief moment before moonlight caressed her flesh with its gentle light. Relaxation settled in her muscles as her inner demon gave a rumble akin to a tiger’s purr. The low humming of the vibrations reverberated throughout her chest and over her alabaster skin. Due to the impending cover of the night and the nature of her most exciting little trek, Kalika traveled without the usual accompaniment of her human illusion. For now the only glamour that lingered on her was used solely for show; from marbled flesh to the clothing containing it.
The monster of her nature gave a languid stretch beneath the surface of her skin forcing a tender sigh to part her pale lips. Lashes kissed at the flesh of her cheeks as she tilted her head back, letting a breeze toy with her hair. The silken mess pulled back in an intricate design, black strands curling around silver, matching her ensemble. A chill swept across her spine, a measure of excitement flooding her veins as she moved ever closer to her destination. Withered leaves whispered a hushed crunch beneath her booted feet, determined strides carrying her through a hidden path.
A smile played across her lips as her anticipation grew, the monster a mere flutter behind her ribcage. Digits traced along the bark of a tree as she tilted her head back and filled her lungs with the scent of the hidden lake. Welcoming stench of rotting leaves and old magic assaulted her senses. It was enough to make her forget the toxic air of the mortal world. Kalika reached down to tug at the bindings of her boots, leather cords slowly sliding free until she could slip her feet from their confines. She glanced towards the lake, a slow smile curling those death hued lips. Magic slithered through the air and across her skin as she stepped closer; this was indeed a sacred place. Power thrummed through her veins as her monster came alive. She tasted long lost emotions as they taunting her senses like the beckoning of a drug.
Ancient willow veiled the entrance of the lake like a portal to another world. Seen from between the flowing vines of greenery it was a most intoxicating view. Hidden from the eyes of mortals, she knew this would be the perfect place to summon her prize. The world forgotten as she stepped beneath the old willow, palm pressed to its smoothed bark. Electricity snapped through her veins and heated her blood, oh yes… this place was perfection. Hips gave a little sway to an unheard melody of magic as she stepped closer to the lakes edge.
Frigid water lapped at her ankles and made her clothes heavy with its chilling disease. Material as soft as could be molded against her skin, pants hugging at her hips with a comfortably tight hold against her thighs. At the knee they began to release and gave a subtle flare that barely covered her feet. Leather bands twisted around her left arm, leaving a slice of skin exposed at the forearm. Her top was an array of black, gray, and a dash of shimmering silver. The most noticeable would have to be the lace of the outfit for it left quite a bit of skin exposed. Black lace netting stretched across the swell of her breasts and curved under her arms to span the scarred flesh of her back. All in all, the Unseelie looked true to her nature: Beautiful, dark, and just as deadly as the monster she was summoning.
Mud disguised rocks bit into her flesh, sharp little stings that nearly drew blood as she stepped deeper. Water lapped against her knees, liquid sinking into her clothing to climb higher against her thighs. The vision as if the lake itself was trying to pull her under, how very fitting she thought. Digits curled against the hilt of her dagger, drawing forth the blade. Wicked little beast gave a shrill giggle of excitement as it cried for blood, the sound ringing in Kalika’s head. Pale lips curled in a snarl of disgust, curse muttered beneath her breath as she brought forth her left arm. Between the leather bindings on her forearm, she pressed the edge of the knife. Skin parted like the red sea before Moses, and as fitting as it was her blood began to run.
Blood pulled straight from the shadows of her soul, forced from her veins by a blackened heart to twist and curl beneath the waters surface. It danced with a dark glory, as if held a brief life of its own in the waters depth. Woven in every drop of her blood was a complex little spell, a usually subtle called turned into the roar of thunder. A drop of blood would have sufficed for such a summoning; a drop could have called the beast. Kalika however, stood there and let her blood run free.
A sultry smile curled upon her lips as her melody sang out over the waters surface, “Don’t keep me waiting….” There she would stand, the chill of the night closing in on her as she awaited the inevitable arrival of her Kelpie.

Kiera Lupin - Werewolf
Name Kiera Lupin
Age: 21
Race: Shapeshifter - Werewolf
Gender: Female
She is headstrong and curious beyond repair. Motivated by her search for answers as to what she is and where her father disappeared to, she keeps on the move. She is a trained EMT and rescue worker, spending most of her time in the snowy mountains. Kiera doesn't know how to handle her own kind, since all they ever do is attack her for crossing into their territory. She tries her best to stay out of the way but isn't against a dirty brawl if she gets into trouble.

Eyes: Gunmetal Grey
Height: 5’5
Main Occupation: Rescue Worker
Clothing: Depends on what she’s doing at the time
Relaxed wear is usually form fitted but comfortably loose. Work wear tends to be thicker and heavier.
· In her human form she has minor scars from fights and work. There are only two truly noticeable ones. The first is a bite on her right shoulder and the second is a jaggedly curved line from beneath the left side of her ribcage to the top of her hip.
Key Skills
· Tracking: Using her heightened senses to follow her prey.
· Stealth: Has the uncanny ability to sneak up on most people
· Detail Orientation: Likes things a certain way and takes notice when they’re out of order
· Persistence: Not necessarily a skill, more of a trait though it does come in handy. She hates to give up on anything.
· Craftsmanship: Adept at making various things and figuring out how exactly things work
A Haunting Past and a Perilous Future

A scream clawed at her throat with barbed fingers, shredding her larynx until it came out as guttural as a growl. Panic clouded her mind, blurred the lines of reality and fantasy until monsters leapt out of the darkness at every turn. They grabbed at her with greedy claws, cackling in madness when they singed her hide. Stars bloomed behind her eyes as her feet twisted beneath her, the ground embracing her with crushing force. Suddenly her bones felt all wrong, like they just didn’t belong. The pain was akin to being on the wrong end of a brand; it seared through her veins and warped the world around her.
Fire roared in her ears louder than ever but she couldn’t seem to convince her body to move. Nothing was working right, she felt different and yet the same. The acridic stench of burning flesh gradually grew worse, until she realized it was her own. Death loomed just behind her, dragging itself ever closer, one oaken beam at a time. Smoke wove a noose around her neck, tightening its hold so that every breath was strained. Flames bit at her toes a moment before her vision was consumed by darkness.
The fire had started by accident, an old stove and ill place equipment. Like all wild things, it had started small and manageable... until it had devoured the kitchen and wound its way out the hall. It had curled around the banisters, climbed up over the high arch and stuffed itself in the parlor. People panicked, shoved and shouted, each trying to escape its insatiable appetite. Kiera was only eight at the time; her father traveled the world with her and never once left her side. It was she who snuck out all the time, slinking away in an eternal game of hide-n-seek. She was on such a venture when the fire had trapped her, corralling her in a library. The stress and panic fractured her sanity, drove her mad. Even after her father had rescued her, she could never be the same.
Kiera had been too young to understand at the time, everything her father rattled off as he took her to a new town. A new home and a new life, just like the one they had left. She couldn’t grasp the concept of such secrecy behind what she was, or why they moved so much. As she aged it only got worse, no matter how hard she tried to fight it always happened. She thought she would get better, if only she practiced resisting but every month she changed. Every month she made herself sick, enduring pain that brought on delirium. She rebelled with everything she had and always she failed to stop it. It would take her quite a bit of time to cope with what she had become, or rather what she had always been.
Seven years after the fire and she would once more wake in terror. Only this time it wasn’t the hungry crackle of a fire, but a deafening silence. In the light of a barely-there crescent moon she had searched the entire cabin and the land around it for signs of life. Not even the wind whispered to her on that night, as if the world had paused to prolong her misery. Kiera ranted and raved to the heavens, crying and shouting until she was too exhausted to crawl back in the house. Her father was gone. Vanishing like he had never been there. She couldn’t pick up a scent, couldn’t find a trail or even a trace of his existence. All she had of his was a ring he had given her, a titanium band with the symbols for ‘Alpha’ and ‘Omega’ engraved into it. Like the mystery of her mother, she was fated to never know what had happened to her father.
Kiera spent every night and day hunting for him, hoping for something she could use to consolidate herself with. An accident or just a bad case of misdirection, she would take about anything to help her know what had happened. It wasn’t until a week later that she was forced to give up, her food had run out and she didn’t want to be trapped in the cabin when the snows hit. She hunted for something else after that, retracing all her trips through the towns and various mountainsides. It took her two years to find the right people and convince them to give her a chance. After that it was smooth sailing, except for the hiding what she truly was and trying not to show off too much.
Fours years later and she was spending her twenty-first birthday hunting for a group of idiotic people in subzero temperatures. To top it off, they were trapped near the top of a very temperamental mountain. She could smell their panic, not that she blamed them though thankfully she was close. The mountains were treacherous at best, doubly so when people tried to show off their skills. Or lack of. Add a moody snow storm and she was drowning in calls for help. All she had wanted to do that morning was go for a nice long run, even now she felt an ache in her bones. Her other half wanted to hunt, and if she didn’t have four more groups to look for she likely would have let it. Kiera was better at it now, switching between two legs and four. Her changes were easier now, not to mention her recovery time was almost nonexistent.
Static buzzed at her hip, a voice crackled to life only to fade back out, it was enough to snap her back on track. She glanced towards the sky, clicking the mike on her com and rattling off her exact location. It wouldn’t take long for the rest of her team to arrive and find the people, all still alive and relatively whole. If only her other searches were as easy and lucky a find.
Kiera was a rescue worker, it was enough to get her fix of adrenaline and give her a chance at being outdoors. She was young but skilled at what she did, using her heightened senses to help with her work. It was a perfect job for her, allowed her live on her own without questions and made moving not only easy but reasonable. She could travel the world and always have an excuse to get in touch with nature. It was a passion that allowed her to be herself and continue the never-ending hunt for where she came from. She is driven by that constant need to know more.

Neit & Zae’za – Cat Sith

Name: Neit Sith
-Pronounced: Night
Age: Appears to be in early 20s
Gender: Female
Race: Cat Sith
           - Cursed/Confined within human form
Neit has known Zae’za all of her life and she is rarely without her large feline companion, though Zae’za does have a tendency to wander. Neit has a small knack for getting into more trouble than she can handle, hence her current predicament.
Neit and Zae’za Details
Physical Attributes:
Eyes: A mix of obsidian and liquid copper. Pupil is that of a feline.
Hair: Down to the small of her back.- Spun darkness, silk like texture. If one were to look closely they would notice strands of white at the base of her neck.
Skin: The shade of caramel and milk mixed together; the lightest hue of a tan.
Height: 5’3”
Build: Slender with lean muscles
Other: Canines elongated in a feline fashion.
-Clothing: Depends on her mood really, although it will most likely always be something comfortable and form hugging.
           -Right Ear: Four cartilage
           - Left Ear: Three cartilage. Includes a barbell piercing.
           - Note: All jewelry is high-grade titanium
-Tattoo: Large cat paw on her chest above her heart.

Like any feline it is hard to pinpoint her moods, most would describe Neit as fickle at best. She can be smiling with a strange purr to her voice one moment then a complete opposite the next. Neit often has a dry sense of humor more along the morbid side though she tries her best to appear upbeat and friendly. She cannot be around too many new alone people at once, it makes her instincts scream for room and she often panics.
Quirks: She has a small obsession with paper clips, feathers, and catnip. She carries around a large crimson velvet satchel. Its only magical attribute is the fact it can hold more than it appears. While the space isn’t unlimited, it somehow manages to hold not only her paper clips but also her companion Zae’Za.
Miscellaneous Skills: Lock-picking
Power. Ability.
- Dislocation: In order to squeeze through all sorts of openings she can actually pop her bones out of place to make it easier.
- Enhanced senses:  The character has improved vision (including night vision, though it still requires at least a weak light source).
- Mind: Quick to react and try to rationalize or figure out a problem.
- Paperclips: They have numerous uses. From hair accessories to lock picks and the occasional weapon when coupled with something that has elastic like stretch.
- Safe Fall: This character is able to fall great distances without injury. Two stories [20ft] is no problem though anything higher and she must roll to avoid injury. Anything above five stories and she takes half the damage a normal human would likely sustain.
- Stealth Steps: Steps are made in silence. Even long drops are landed in silence.
- Strength: Enough inhuman strength to hold up the fat feline called her companion.
- True Sight: With focus and effort comes the reward to see past most glamour. In no way does this mean she can break through a particularly well cast glamour spell, but she can usually tell when something isn’t as it seems.
Draw Back. Weakness.- Dislocation: While it is an ever so nifty trick, she pays for it the following day. Muscles remain sore for quite some time.
- Form: She is trapped as a human, limiting her actual magical abilities. She cannot blend in well with humans due to her ethereal eyes and grace. Also, just like a cat, while she can easily scale a tree….getting down is a completely different matter.
- Iron: Though it doesn’t have as much of an adverse effect on her as pure Fae, it does disorientate her and drain her energy.
- Promises: She is bound by her word when she promises someone something. Whether it takes her ten seconds or a hundred years to complete, eventually it will be done. The main reason she doesn’t make promises lightly.
- Recklessness: Being of the feline family Neit, more often than not, doesn’t know when to duck and run. Instead she sticks around to see what happens, which has the potential to get her in a lot of trouble.
- Sight: No matter what, she can’t see in pitch black. There has to be some source of light for her eyes to reflect, be it the subtle light of moon and stars or the glow of a nearby clock. Without something, she’s as blind as anyone else.
Name: Zae’Za
           -Pronounced: zay - zay
Race: Cat Sith in feline form
Gender: Male
Coat: Pure black with a single white diamond upon its breast
Measurements: Think Large Bob Tail Cat
-        Height: 2’1”
-        Length Excluding Tail:        3’5”
-        Length Including Tail:         6’5”
-        Being Cat Sith means he has the ability to speak but chooses to do so with only a few people at most. Unless of course he is showing off for attention.
-        When trouble arises… He’s no where to be found, appearing once the coast is clear.
-        Curls up to about half his size when he feels playful or wants to take a nap.
-        Can somehow fit into Neits satchel bag, though he is none too pleased about it.
A New Home

Slender bits of metal gave way to the whim of nimble fingers before they were carefully nestled in a mane of silken shadows. Hair that seemed to trap the light within it was slowly pulled into an intricate design atop her head, its placeholders made of twisted paper clips that curled outwards like spikes. Obsidian hued eyes were speckled with flecks of liquid copper, making them glow. Neit glanced towards the mirror as her lips curled in a feline grin. Light giggles emitted from the depth of her chest, like the purr of a content housecat, at the sight of her creation.
Wisps of hair played along light caramel skin like wild children, dancing with every whisper of a breeze. Final remains of a paperclip twisted in place, she was satisfied with the new grunge look befit any streetwalker. Digits curled around a box of those pesky metal bits and threw them in her crimson velvet bag. Worn strap sliding in place as a satchel rested against opposing hip. Fingers tugged at clinging material of her shirt, random designs thrown across a canvas of red, before they delved into the unknown of jean pockets to rest. Low cut collar showed half of a tribal paw print resting against her chest, above her heart. Ink so dark it swirled with a shimmering, trapped, coloration.
Once more she caught her reflection, pausing for a moment to admire. Head tilted as she watched the dim light dance across her skin, making the rings in her ears glitter like rubies. That same purring giggle sounded again, heard only by her for the time being. Pupils were the slits of a cat, black cut diamonds shades darker than surrounding iris; expanding until the nocturnal world was almost as bright and brilliant as the diurnal one.
Light steps faltered then halted all together as her gaze shifted to the once empty space beside her. Spotting the slender form a feline sat, quietly grooming its sleek black coat, pattern of a single white diamond on its chest. It gave one excusing mew of a kitten as it slowly stood and wove around the tattered ends of her jeans. Quick as a serpents strike Neit grabbed the cat and hauled it by the scruff of the neck till presumed human and feline were eye to eye. Obsidian with copper looked into a mirror image of orbs, lips curled in a frown.
Feline gave an annoyed hiss and flick of its tail, the promise that such an action would be regretted clear. Equal eyes narrowed as a growl caused its body to shake.  No explanation was given though the human creature huffed and released her hold on black fur. Digits brushed once more against her red shirt as she adjusted the strap of her bag, voice a supple purr. Nothing but honey sweet melody poured from parted lips “Needed more paperclips…. I had to fix my hair.” Light nod of head caused mane to dance one more, as if emphasizing her point to feline she motioned to twisting spikes of metal.
Another flick of the tail and the feline began to walk down the street; Neit gave a sigh before moving to follow. “We won’t be late… Train doesn’t leave for another-” She glance to an old brass watch, strap barely hanging on to her wrist, “Twenty minutes. We’ll make it.” Finally the feline paused just long enough to be scooped up in the girls’ arms. Heading towards the station she felt the familiar swell of excitement and anxiety, looking forward to their new home.
A place where feline notions wouldn’t have her standing out like it did here. Holding her companion close to her chest she softly sighed. Breathing in the stench of iron as the train roared across the tracks; slightly wincing at every loud hiss and squeal of gears against gears. A tolerable agony compared to flying, at least in her opinion.
Train roared, lurched, and began to move forward, carrying them that much closer to their destination. Nervous fingers worked through the fur of the feline, finally coaxing a purr from the disgruntled animal. Somehow, she managed to stretch out and fall asleep, waking with a start as needles pierced through material of her pants and straight into her thighs. There was no shout or cry, only a violent rumble of a growl as she looked to the cat in her lap. Satisfied with her waking, the animal gave a lazy yawn and stretched before jumping to the floor and sauntering towards the doors, tail high in the air. Scrambling for her bag, Neit followed the feline outside.
Head down to hide those brilliant eyes, Neit managed to keep in step with the cat beside her. Following it as if they had both been here many times… while true, that was long ago. So much had changed; she wanted nothing more than to look around. Every time she paused there was a needle poke of a claw from the feline, demanding she keep up and take in the scenery later.
Ahead of them loomed a great wall of trees, only a thin twisting path to guide them to their destination. Neit scooped up her companion with ease, letting him settling in her arms as she finally stopped at the entrance of the forest. “I’m so going to get lost.” There was a satisfied huff from the cat as she continued on towards their new home.

Nyx – Fallen Seraphim
Name: Nyx
Deemed: Covet.
Species: Demon
Age Class: Immeasurable
Blood Class: Ancient One
Will Alignment: None. Subjected to her nature.
Status: None
Nature: Chaos
Faction: Queen of the Fallen
Obsession: Wings
She watched one of her own fall, watched how he was torn down by those he had trusted. It took a fraction of a second, a hint of a doubt and she was cast from her home as well. Now she is lost in a world of insanity, trapped by the whims of her broken mind and her desire for what she lost.
Till we all Fall down (NSFW)

Personality: Where sanity ends her mind begins. Sadomasochistic. Intelligent yet prone to playful teasing, mostly with her body. Swayed by carnal thoughts and the prospect of a blood bath.
Place of Birth: First Heaven [Cast Out]
Identifiable Features:
  • Her hair is almost always constantly moving, living white flames that dance to her moods.
  • Wings of fire: Very draining on her sanity
  • Height: 5’5”
  • Weight: 120
  • Bust: 35”
  • Waist: 21”
  • Hips: 31”
Wings: N/A
Eyes: Pale in color. Mostly Violet or Gray
Hair: Spider-Silk Silver and white / to her lower back
Powers: -Mostly Unknown-
Elemental Manipulation: Fire
Abilities: -Mostly Unknown-
  • Napalm-Like Blood:
  • Talon-Like Nails
  • Seduction
Power Grid: =Unknown=

Feathers danced over her body, reminding her of what she had lost all those years ago. Slender digits curled around blood soaked wings, free of their rightful owners, she pulled the limbs closer and pressed her face against the feathers. Diamonds sparkled in her pale eyes before spilling down to mix with dark rubies. She could feel them beneath her skin, those old wounds trying to surface, forcing her fragmented mind to remember.
She once stood by God, shining bright as a morning star, there to spread peace. Pure Perfection. Six wings fanned out to show her glory, her promise of eternity at His side. One of His most trusted.
She fell to her knees, hollow bone crunching as she tightened her hold on the stained wings. Madness threatened to take over, her vision blurred as her skin slowly began to tear apart….her body unable to fight it off any longer.
Chaos ensued when a trusted one was cast out, a trusted one she couldn’t help but follow. Like her he was a prized possession, one of the Seraphim, one of the Divine. She faltered for only a second, her heart and mind wavering on the tempting ideas. He was so alluring this angel turned devil. She wanted to know more, needed to get closer… She had no idea she would get sucked into the madness. No idea how enthralling those ideals would be.
Muscles split apart at her back, two parallel lines that ran from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back. Blood coated her beautifully pale skin, ethereal and wild. She rocked back and forth, crushing those feathers close… A lifeline she was losing grip of.
One slip was all it took. One tiny wrong turn and He was no longer her savior but her damnation. The hands of her own brothers and sisters held her down, words slurred together like a serpentine hiss. Fire tore through her body as they ripped wings from her back. She clawed at Them as her skin drained of its light, her body quickly becoming void of color.
She screamed as she remembered those once gentle hands upon her skin, fingers digging into muscle to separate her wings from her body. Making sure she would never truly heal right, never fly on her own again.
They stripped her of her robes and tore the wings from her thighs, so cruel in their screaming beauty. To think, she had once stood by their side, proud to be among the Divine ones. Proud to be so perfect…
Blood. So much blood. It was caked onto her skin, oozing over her body and spreading across the floor like a disease. Finally it began to spill from her temples, staining her silver hair a murky red; the finishing touch that ultimately led to her lunacy.
So close to her eyes. Their claws took her final pair of wings, her vision swimming in red to warp the already twisted angels. It was then that they dropped her; cast her out of Heaven with ease. Her wings floated down after her, six once beautiful things now broken and twisted, falling after their former master. Her body shuddered as it slammed into the earth, wings turning to dust beside her.
Days or years it mattered not. Time would not taint her with age. Her eyes clouded over as leaves turned green then red, falling to cover her broken form as if trying to protect her from the coming snow. She could have lain there for eternity, her wounds healing while her mind remained fragmented. Distorted. Damaged goods.
From the ashes her obsession grew. Her obsession with what she had lost.
Birds mocked her as they took to the sky, flying far out of her reach. Her mind was in pandemonium, she couldn’t hold on to any thought for long. All she knew was what they had taken. They took her freedom then cast her out like the useless toy of a child.
Broken and quickly forgotten.

Cold pale lips curved into a smile as vocal cords began to vibrate out a melody, a soft and haunting thing to join in with another, a perfect union. His voice, the voice of her King, could drive humans mad and create total chaos in the land of mortals… And yet it eased her mind. It called to a part of her, stroked against her skin and pulled sanity from the depths of oblivion. She remembered the first time she heard that haunting sound, how could she forget? He saved her like no other could.
She stood in a pool of blood, feathers scattered about her as she watched with unseeing eyes. She was there and not, her mind piecing it together, trying to hold onto what she was doing…Why was she here again?
The Thing before her screamed, his wings dark with blood… Or were they like that before? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t know what was going on. All she knew was she wanted his wings. That’s all she wanted. She didn’t know her own strength, didn’t realize not everyone could crush the neck of an angel. She had no idea how much force it took to rip his wings off, all she knew was she wanted them. She Needed them.
She wasn’t normal. Humans scattered at the sight of her naked flesh, marred with crusted blood while she dragged a pair of wings with her. She let her feet carry her through the void that was her new world. That’s when she heard him.
At first her awareness was uncomfortable; she paused with her head cocked to the side like a cat. Waiting and ready to pounce. This was no threat though… It was calling to her… He was calling to her. The angel turned devil. He came back for her. She could put that much together and slowly the darkness faded from her mind. She stumbled forward, dragging those tattered wings with her.
There He was. Standing in the middle of the burning town, she couldn’t remember how the fire started… She couldn’t remember a lot of things. His voice eased her mind as he sang to her, drawing her closer, bringing her into his world. She could feel it, that unwavering train of thought. Just being near him seemed to balance her out, bring her peace of mind. He gave something of her back, this devil that was supposed to be all evil.
Strange how something so dark was suddenly so very comforting. She leaned her fragile seeming body against his. She trusted him to keep her there, to keep her mind in one place. Allowing him to take her back she would show him her adoration, she would let him see another side besides insanity. She would protect her newfound King.

Pale eyes looked up as the melody echoed through the room, settling her nerves down as the skin along her wounds began to knit back together. He forced her to focus, helped her to her feet with his strong hands. His smile dark, yet for her he was sweet and somewhat gentle. He was her King. Her true lifeline. Pale lips turned up in a smile and she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. This was her Home now. Her Haven.
This is where she belonged with her churning obsession and her fallen god.

Sanura – Genetically Modified Blood Doll
Name: Sanura
Gender:  Female
Race: Blood Doll
Hair: White/Silver
Eyes: Pale Violet
Build: Small, seems rather frail.
Skin tone: Porcelain
Quirks: Has a tendency to forget the world around her. Goes for the eyes when she attacks
Preferred Weapon(s): Nails. Allure. Seduction. Manipulation. Fangs.
She is trapped in a world of her own making, sitting upon a broken throne. It is her duty to guard the secrets of this keep, to fight back the monsters that would rise from the stone. She hears them in her head, sees them dancing in the shadowed corners but no matter her speed or strength they escape her. They mock her. Her former master whispers of her near perfection until she screams. Its never enough to destroy them, she has to rip them to pieces to silence them. Except they’re all trapped in her head, these demons she faces. Sanura knows that and most of the time she can function rationally, it’s when things get too stressful or something reminds her of what it once was like that she slips. she's crazy, she knows this. But she isn't evil and she’s not without her compassionate moments.

Perfecting the Madness

Little is actually known about the doll-like creature that haunts the skeletal remains of a once glorious mansion. The life she had known before was swept away by the fantasy of being someone she was not. So lost in the illusion, she had little idea of the monsters that lurked in the shadows. The demons that would taint her innocent soul and force her to commit terrible acts in the name of madness.
Ages ago, the man she thought she had married decided to wipe away the memory of who she had been. His pet name for her had been Kitten, so his formal name was fashioned around that. Sanura was a perfect match, she was as playfully bold and just as slyly wicked as the creature she was named after. The staff treasured and adored her, they gushed over her petite form and made certain she wanted for nothing. She lived a luxurious life, the servants dressing her up every other hour in flowing dresses of crushed velvet's and sleek silks. Anything and everything was hers for the taking if she but asked.
Her husband, her keeper, treated her like a living doll. He doted on her and fretted over her like she was made of porcelain. The nights were filled with magnificent masquerades, strangers that danced with her and her alone. Sharp smiles and easy laughs, their brand of charm was infectious.
The perfect life didn’t last nearly as long as she had hoped it would. Her dreams faded, broken to pieces by the deteriorating mind of her husband. He ranted to her about monsters, about bringing them closer to what they had lost and what they could be. She understood none of it. She had turned a blind eye to the missing servants, to the heavy stone walls of his study that were far from inviting. She thought she could drag out her happiness a little longer if she pretended not to notice the way he watched her. The way his eyes darkened with hunger.
Sanura had no idea when it started, but she could picture it with devastating clarity. The day he grabbed her in excitement, told her had finally figured it out. A way to make her better. The hurt his words brought was overshadowed by the fear she felt when he wouldn't release her, when he began to drag her down into that dark hell of his study. She remembered the cold clamp of chains around her wrists, the chill of the table as he forced her down. His plan, his perfect, brilliant plan had mixed the science of the arcane arts and the bargain of a devilish contract to make her what he wanted. The experiments started out simple enough, he went through the same motions he had practiced countless time before. Only this time, his victim, his beloved Sanura, lived through each one. She thrived after every session, her blood blooming with untapped power.
Injections came next, one making him weep as it stilled her heart for a second too long, but she kept on living. Despite how fractured her mind became, she clung to life with everything she had. She raged at him like a wild beast, no longer his tame little kitten. Blood slicked her wrists, shackles cutting through her delicate flesh every time she fought him. Again and again she suffered through his deranged explanations that he only ever wanted to make her perfect. That he could help her, make her so much better than she was. Dozens of tests, hundreds of needles in her veins and a thousand notes littering the floor. That is what her grand life had become. She snarled every time he approached her, lashed out at him with tooth and nail until he retreated. It was in those moments she saw what he was, his fangs and his inhuman grace. He muttered to her of how extraordinary she was, how he only had to sample her blood now to hold off his craving. He was oh so kind as he told her it was almost over, that he was so very close to pushing her past those mortal limits.
The days blended together, the hours meant nothing. For years she was trapped down there, time refusing to touch her. Madness was her only solace, the comfort of losing herself the only thing she had now. Its how she missed so much that final week, how she failed to notice his craving was beyond normal. His mind almost as broken as hers. The final mixture was made, a concoction that shimmered as it oozed into a syringe, slow and thick as molasses. She had never seen anything like it, the way it curled in on itself as if it was eating the light around it. Pin to the table she could do little as he brought it close enough to show her. To explain to her his new idea. He had been handling things all wrong, now… now was the time to make her great.
Panic settled in her chest as he smiled, looking exhausted but triumphant. If only they had known the outcome, maybe then he would have shown caution. Would have eased the mix into her blood rather than force it in all at once. Maybe he would have picked a different location than attacking her heart first, the mass of muscle overworking itself as it tried to push that strange liquid through her system. The room went silent as she struggled to breath, only the dull pain of where the needle had pierced her skin worried her. Seconds ticked into minutes and still she felt nothing, relaxation threading its way into her muscles. She watched her master as he narrowed his eyes, rage showing in his stance. He had failed.
Hysteria seized her, laughter bubbling up in her throat. He failed. She was alive and he had failed. She wanted to dance around in elation, wanted to shout to the heavens and… Sanura stopped, horror filling her as she felt it. A slow burn starting in her chest, spreading like wildfire through her veins. It seared through her mind, pulled a strangled scream from her, demanded more and more until her vocal cords blew and she was trapped in silence. Her muscled convulsed, spine arching her off the table, straining against the restraints.
Color bled from her very pores, blood spilling from the corner of her eyes, splattering over her lips as she coughed. It filled her nose and tickled her neck as it leaked from her ears, taking all traces of her former life with it. Only a faint violet coloration was left in her eyes, even her hair had gone silver in the aftermath. That day she lost the final strands of her humanity, she became his perfect little blood doll. A monster of his creation, a being that had ripped him to pieces as easy as a child plucked the wings from a butterfly. He made her something else, something so far removed from a human that it rivaled his own kind. No one was prepared for the slaughter that followed her freedom, immortal strength silencing all who had dwelled in the mansion. She hunted those that danced with her, those that had known his plans and never once tried to save her.
In the aftermath she sat on her throne of stone, carefully carved skulls littering the floor around her. Her blood was forever changed, her heart beat a slow force moving it through her veins. The concoction she now carried was unlike any other, the prize of a millennia of studying and experimenting. It was able to sustain even the most viral of blood drinkers for an unprecedented amount of time, lending them a boost to their strength and stamina. There is always a price for perfection, the downside to the intoxicating sweet mix of her vitae. The more that is consumed, the more it is craved.
A vicious cycle that makes it all too easy for her to keep her secrets.

Offline FroreQueenTopic starter

The Instruments [Part Two]
« Reply #2 on: December 08, 2015, 12:13:56 AM »
The Instruments
Part Two

Tesanra – The Unseelie Queen
Name: Tesanra
Gender: Female
Race: Unseelie Sidhe
Age: Unknown
She is the Queen of their world, the ruler of the damned. Her word is law and those that defy her are dealt with publicly. She had the world in the palm of her hands, everything she could have ever wanted was almost hers. A few more battles to be won and the Unseelie would reign supreme. Her army was prepared, her guards were frenzied with excitement. She thought everything was playing as it should  until her most trusted turned against her. It was all stolen from her in one fell swoop. Snatched from beneath her feet so quickly she couldn't recover. Tesanra still rules her people, but they know she is not impervious to deceit. Because her Knight turned against her, she fights ten times as hard to keep her people in line. To make sure they know she will take back what was stolen from her, one way or another.

Details and Story of a Queen
Height: 5’9”
Build: Lean with slight muscle definition
Skin tone[/b]: Marble white
Eyes: Tricolor. Black center outlined in deep gray followed by light silver and traces of white around the cornea.
*Color: Gray and White
*Length: Mid-Back
Depends on her place of appearance.
Varying from the regal cold look befitting an Unseelie Queen to her preferred leather based attire.
Glimpse of a Queen

Nails hooked like the talons of a bird to cut deep through the weak flesh of her victim, crimson coloring her otherwise pale flesh. Bones snapped in meager resistance to the intrusion of her claws until only tendons held her prize in place. Slowly, to savor the pull and that final gasp as death took its charge, she pulled the beating mass of a heart free. Lush lips curled into a warm smile that made her seem almost kind, if only the image wasn't accompanied by the knowledge of what she had just done. Serpentine tongue snaked over the coppery coating, tri-colored eyes rolling back in a moment of bliss. Lips parted to reveal the abnormality of her mouth, where humans would have dull teeth and flat molars, she boasted fangs. Curved pieces of ivory that fit together in a gruesome smile, designed to shred whatever was unfortunate enough to come in contact with them. Even the tough muscle offered virtually no resistance as she sunk those wicked incisors through it, blood trailing down her chin as if she bit into succulent fruit.
A mass of darkness circled at her feet, a dozen ruby eyes gazing up at her with the utmost adoration. Figures began to take shape, clawed hands reaching up to pat her leather clad thighs as if reassuring her that they were there before they dissolved again. They were like children seeking attention from their mother, only neither one of them fit such a welcoming picture. They hungered for violence as she did, they craved her ruthless games, and never once did they falter when set out destroy all those that stood against her. She commanded the darkness with her very thoughts, it read the smallest movements like the a detailed passage of a book. So in tune with one another she had no doubts of their loyalties.
Tesanra dropped the remainder of the heart into their clutches, watching as they converged on it then the body until nothing was left. This is why she had so few enemies these days. Those that dared to stand against her swiftly dealt with. She turned the hunts into a game, their capture into a celebration until her Court swelled with excitement at the mention of a traitor. They would turn on each other to find those Tesanra wanted.
Even now they stood at the edge of her throne room, their hunger a heavy weight upon her shoulders. Her boots hissed as she turned towards her children of the darkness, raising her bloodied hands with a cry of joy. They echoed her call until it swelled past the confines of her Court, until the world could hear the whisper of her shadows. She was the embodiment of fear, the nightmare that lurked just around the corner. She was the reason they rose to power, the reason the Seelie armies gave ground.
She was the Queen of the Unseelie Court, undisputed ruler for centuries. Her brood consisted of the dark fae, of those nightmarishly beautiful creatures. Tesanra would not be defeated, not by the betrayal of her Knight or the fact that victory was stolen from her. No. She would show the world why she ruled these monsters, why even the shadows feared their Queen.

The Embodiment of War
War is a way of life, it is all consuming. It is a monster unto itself, a beast that lives and breaths with every promise of conflict. She was born in carnage, her very veins harbor the strongest and most skilled fighters. Each one hand picked, plucked from their worlds and added to her Legion. Beasts that bleed from her when she calls upon them. War is not human, nor has she ever been. Compassion isn’t in her nature, she lives for the fight. Hunts for it, thrives on it. Always searching for a new soldier in her monstrous armada.
The Turning

World’s lived and died, massive monsters became small compared to the darkness around them. Ruin thrived, flesh rotted, armies won or lost on a whim. A throne of bones, a crown of nightmares. It mattered not what she carried, not what she sat upon or stood for. Only that she moved, that she fought. War. War was always ugly and brutal, but it was glorious and passionate as well. It lived and breathed, thrumming through her veins with its cry for more. It kept her moving, kept her going. It guided her when all else was gone.

War was a monster curled in her chest, a beast that thrashed in her core. Even now amidst the carnage, it whispered for her go on. Who was she to deny her nature?

The soldier at her feet was her last victim, her first salvation. She lifted him and brushed the tawny hair from his rugged face, “Battle makes a monster of us all.” A breath was all it took, a binding of the soul, a taste of the beast she hid, and he was up. His bones mending, his skin pulling together as vacant eyes locked onto her. Dead to the world, dead to his brothers, there was only her. Only the piece he was missing, the goddess he would do anything for. She was all he knew, the only flash of light in his eternal darkness. “Time to wake the others, we’ve a war to win.” Empty words wasted on deaf ears, it was her will that moved them. Her darkness that trapped them, fed them, and eventually obliterated them. Death was kind, this was War.

One by one she pulled them from their resting place, tore them from their freedom. Whether it was a heavenly place or a hellish one, she picked those she had admired. The ones that had charged, knowing what she was. They stood around her to show the world what a god's favor looked like, that it was no kindness to be admired. No wonder to be glorified.

They shambled around her like broken marionettes, jerking and twitching in their cage of a body. They reached for her, wanting to be whole, to be mended. She obliged her chosen few, watched as their uniforms disintegrate and their flesh became molten. They were nothing for a moment, just standing pyres paying for their sins. Then they were hers, fully. The monsters of war, the nightmares she had envisioned. Her personal demons from the darkest depths of hell.

“War is wonderful.”

War and Elysia
Elysia is a being of light and life. Where War consumes, Elysia enlightens and expands. She elevates those she touches, makes them more than what they are. More than they could ever be otherwise. She charges them until nothing is left, until they cannot be contained. For a brief second, they are blazing beings of life and possibilities. And then they are nothing. Vanishing from existence, their essence left for Elysia to absorb and reuse. Each ascended charging the next until it takes little more than a touch from her. It becomes consuming for her to hold herself together, the trouble happening only when she must contain her power.
The Arena

“What of the spectators?”
“Casualties are unavoidable.”
“We’re talking about hundreds of them.”
“They watch for blood, why shouldn’t they shed some themselves?”
Lungs expanded until they ached, static dancing over pale lips, “Does that not make us the monsters we seek to eradicate?”
A smile of malice and teeth split apart an otherwise unassuming face, “War makes a monster of us all, don’t forget that.” The figures turned towards the building as one, watching as new arrivals were shuffled in and out. Listening to the faint roar of the crowd, a sound that nearly drowned out the cries below them. “Blood for blood. An eye for an eye-”
“Till the whole world goes blind.” Lightning arced across flesh of marble as she leaned forward, “These are not your puppets, War.”
“They are far too orderly, far too pleasant. Release them all, let their world crumble beneath them.” War had only her title to be called, her true name fading into legend. She no longer fit its confines, no longer felt the truth of it when it was spoken. War was all she knew, all she had ever been. Daughter of Chaos, Sister to Death, and lover of Peace. Her entire family lineage was a bloody mess. Unsheathing her blades she relaxed her muscles, pushed the thrill of it back so she could reason, “I want one. To see if they can be broken, to see if they need flesh to burn.”
Elysia’s whisper was charged with power, “We are here to end this abhorrent farce of a show, not to add to your collection.” Freeing her blade she turned to her companion, “What of the ones shackled near the arena?”
“They are too broken to be saved, free them for the spectators.” War stood, her power reaching out for those below, wanting to turn them. To have them bow at her feet and crave to be whole. Snapping her teeth together she snarled, “I am no angel of Mercy. You cannot save those that are already lost.”
Lighting cracked in the air around her, a rumble of sound quickly following, “Do not lecture me, War. And do not lose yourself to to this.” She didn’t wait for the response, didn’t bother listening an argument she had heard a thousand times over. War was hell, in both the action and the personification. Elysia could not stop her, she could only curb the destruction, use it to her advantage. Help those she could and keep the universe safe one day at a time. One War after another.
War laughed as she followed, slamming swords into the nearest captor. Leaning forward she exhaled, pouring everything she was into his very soul until she devoured him from the inside out. Tilting her head back, she shuddered, filtering through every minute detail she could find. No mercy, no pleasure, nothing. She could feel nothing without risking her control. A battlefield of their fallen, their dead rising up to claim them. War could see it, taste its victory. She reached for another only to have it explode the instant she touched it, the shock wave knocking her back into a wall.
Elysia snarled as she leapt for another one, freeing them of their mortal coils. She wrapped around their very essence of being and charged it. It took her only seconds to grab them, to force her power through their veins until their bodies couldn’t contain it. Each captor turned victim exploded in a silent scream, the shock wave charging her next attack. Where War devoured them, she Fed them life. One after another until it took but a touch. Erratic lightning followed her, struck the walls and floor before each booming waving.
They continued until nothing stood against them, until the walls were covered in blood, vitae, and bits of bone. Elysia stood in the heart of a lightning storm, laughing as coursed through her veins. War stood in the midst of burning shadows, none of them fit her army. They begged to be made whole, they reached for her only to dissolve into nothing. The roar of the crowd grew louder, their frenzy for blood drawing the attention of the two.
Electricity arced between Elysia’s lips as she spoke, her voice the rumble of thunder around her, “We free you not to fight you, but so you may taste victory over those that have dictated your torment for so long. Turn against us and you will fall. We will open the gates, the crowd is before you. Freedom is behind. Death is here. Choose wisely.” Elysia turned and slammed her hand against the wall. Metal bars came to life, twisting in on themselves. War freed the ones in chains, snapping their shackles apart and stepping aside.
There was a moment of silence, a moment where they watched one another in contemplation. The broken unsure of their actions, their minds too fractured to comprehend such things. New ones scattered, minds not yet scarred by the ring fled towards their homes. Others turned, their cries of war echoing in the hall. War laughed, sinking her claws through stone and pulling away a section of the wall, “Show them the cost of their entertainment.”
Elysia stood by War and as one they struck. The wall was torn between crumbling and exploding, rocks shooting away from them with a scatter of dust following. The entire structure rumbled now. With their force and the chaos of those they had released. War nodded towards the top, “Do not stop me Elysia, I just want one. I’ll tear the others apart. But I keep one.”
War pulled back as the other grabbed her, their power cracking in the air at the confrontation, “Destroy all but one War. Leave them rotting in their ruins.” The very air hissed as they released, War a flash of molten darkness heading for the rulers of this arena. Sinking down into her power, letting it envelop her senses she laughed as her body burned. War was hell. War was glorious.
Elysia struck a wall, her bones so charged they splintered into a thousand pieces. Only the power of the lives she had freed kept her together now. A monster with no true shape, barely a bloom of bones to give her a maw. Thunder boomed at her call, the walls cracking as she climbed them. The structure would stand no more. The sport would end in chaos.

Offline FroreQueenTopic starter

The Symphony
« Reply #3 on: December 08, 2015, 12:15:19 AM »
The Symphony

This will be updated as I get back into the swing of dancing again. I appreciate all my old partners and their understanding of my circumstances at the time.


Dances in full swing.

Works of an Orchestra

Group collaborations

The Music Fell Silent

Dances either ended, on hold/hiatus.

Beauty and the Beast - Hiatus [Due to unforeseeable personal matters I had to step away from E for a while.]
A fantastically twisted retelling of a famously classic tale. Done in part with the fantastically talented impishcharm

Falling into the Black - On Hold [No response from partner]
When a Pixie saves a Viking things are bound to get a little crazy. Started by Crimson Caine
From the Ashes, We Rise - On Hold [No Response from partner]
Private dance with elwood who is new to roleplay, though by the third post that is hard to believe.

Melody of Thunder - On Hold
Two characters reconnect in the heart of a raging storm. Kalika Kali Ma and Kouichi – With TrivialxThought

Order Through Chaos - On Haitus [Due to unforeseeable personal matters I had to step away from writing]
A Demon and a creature crafted to unbalance the world join to create glorious chaos. With - Renegade Vile

Slippery slope of the Serpentine Life - On Hold [No response from partner.]
Private dance with the extremely entertaining Inferior Rabbit

Trusting the Dark - On Hold [No response from partner]
The Unseelie Fae are masters of striking bargains in their favor; only what if a deal is made in desperation to the most unlikely, cold blooded, savior of all? Collaboration with Frelance

A werewolf role-play group done with Character – Kiera Lupin - Group Disbanded

Private Waltz with the highly talented and utterly fantastic Rhynarion

Bittersweet Symphony - Sanura and Ven
Cruel Beauty - Tesanra and Machavius
Winterhearted - Kalika Kali Ma and Shardin