[»------ ß0× 0ƒ lemons ------→] Test & Archive

[Korrye]

- Name - Noemi Avignon

- Nicknames - Naomi, Noel

- Gender - Female

- Birthdate/Starsign - October 19th (Libra)

- Age/Year - 17 (Senior)

- Sexuality - Straight (Heterosexual)

- Belief on glee club - Always wanted to learn how to sing 'English' songs, was told it was a 'good way to meet people' by [insert name here].

- Personality
* Loves art
* Neat
* Dresses up for the occassion
* Slight perfectionist
* Narcisstic
* Charitable
* Bossy at times
* Plans ahead
* Attention to detail
* Loves public service
* Organization nut
* Attentive
* Flirtacious

- Likes
* Beauty
* Fashion
* Debates
* Intellectual conversations
* Subtle colours, textures
* Haute Coutoure
* Horses
* Languages
* History
* Black and White Photography
* Soft Ice-cream

- Dislikes
* Noise
* Confusion
* Sloppiness
* Pressured decisions
* Being rushed
* Criticism
* Mice
* Big boxstores
* Technology
* Artificial Flavors
* Papercuts

- Story/History

this does not have to be the life story of your character, but neither am i totally against it. the story can be important parts of someone's life, or just something that will show more of their personality. be creative here.

- Strengths

* Organization
* Fashion
* Languages
* Artistic Activities
* Flirting

- Weaknesses

* Multiple Choice Tests
* Most technological setups
* Being un-emotionally attached
* Handling animals other than horses (bad luck with cats and dogs)
* Being timely.

- Hobbies

* Fashion Design/Drawing/Watercolor Painting
* Singing (Mainly in French or Spanish)
* Traveling

- Aspirations

* Having her own fashion house in either Milan or Paris
* Know five languages fluently.

- Fears

* Facing tabloids and critics
* Becoming estranged from her parents

- Quirks

* Can't wear the same outfit more than twice within two weeks
* Can't stand rhinestones or over the top glitter
* Likes to watch Disney movies on rainy days
* Gets Italian and French mixed up occasionally
* Only buys make-up from companies who don't commit animal testing
* Can't do math on the fly in her head

- Who does your character sound like?

* Pending

- List of classes

* AP English
* Calculus
* AP Government
* Economics
* AP French
* Drama
* PE

- Extracurricular activities

* Yearbook
* Dance Committee
* Glee

- And in a separate post, relationships*
250x100 cropped picture

[Korrye]

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Aliquam erat volutpat. Cras interdum vestibulum risus a pellentesque. Nulla sed venenatis erat. Etiam vel augue nibh, eu egestas sapien. Cras tristique imperdiet congue. Quisque interdum auctor enim eget gravida. Donec mollis elementum augue nec eleifend. Aliquam non mi ut sem placerat mattis vitae molestie felis. Fusce iaculis tristique urna eu placerat. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Mauris sed mi in massa pharetra tristique a quis magna. Sed et pretium massa. Ut mollis neque in velit vestibulum dictum. Mauris nunc erat, congue ultrices tempor eget, faucibus rutrum massa. Donec consequat ipsum sit amet lectus auctor sodales. Sed a sapien eget odio dignissim pretium id laoreet erat. Proin ac accumsan libero. Etiam odio nulla, mollis in commodo id, dignissim a ipsum.

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Phasellus a tortor nec est iaculis semper scelerisque ornare nisl. Vestibulum turpis sem, convallis at facilisis nec, faucibus ac enim. Nunc eleifend odio at nunc mattis ac iaculis nisi lacinia. Fusce enim mi, euismod a fringilla vel, fringilla quis nisi. Nulla purus eros, consectetur quis adipiscing in, porttitor ac magna. Nullam malesuada fringilla libero, in iaculis sapien fermentum quis. Aliquam ullamcorper nunc id diam congue viverra. Morbi ullamcorper magna a arcu tincidunt quis molestie sem tempus. Etiam massa turpis, porta id imperdiet id, pulvinar at sem. Phasellus diam risus, iaculis eu convallis id, tristique vel metus. Ut auctor pretium velit sit amet feugiat. Suspendisse ligula sapien, mollis et luctus eget, gravida non erat. Pellentesque adipiscing, enim at bibendum pretium, urna neque consequat purus, ac auctor eros neque a nibh. Sed in felis in lorem pharetra laoreet. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Phasellus volutpat tempus nibh nec semper. Phasellus leo sapien, elementum non varius nec, cursus ut quam.

Mauris leo neque, ultricies quis blandit sit amet, lacinia id odio. Aliquam tempus lorem nisl. Ut vel ipsum lacus. Nulla sed turpis id est blandit pulvinar. Nam interdum varius diam, nec dignissim ipsum dapibus quis. Etiam justo mauris, consectetur vitae porttitor a, venenatis eu eros. Nullam ultrices, ligula quis vestibulum commodo, dui quam malesuada magna, vel pharetra nisl sapien a nulla. Maecenas quis orci dolor. Suspendisse a tincidunt tellus. Donec eget ligula mauris. Nullam nisi ipsum, aliquet sit amet eleifend tristique, commodo quis libero. Vivamus faucibus mauris risus, a cursus dui. Nunc imperdiet elit pellentesque eros faucibus consectetur.

[Korrye]

Being an eighteen year old boy with the libido of something he estimated to be Hugh Hefner, Cameron Wilson new his life was difficult. He was simply making the best of it, who wouldn’t if they were in his position? In his mind it was cute boyfriend by day, sex God by night to whom two women provided him with two very different forms of entertainment. There was Kim, ******** Kim, the blond temptress who’d brought out his dark side. Cameron had met her in third period English, one of a few classes he had with her instead of his Sophia due to her selection of AP over regular stream. Cameron enjoyed her company, how she seemed to invite him in and listen. They’d spent a few casual nights together before finally tumbling together between the sheets. It was bliss. All his body had wanted from Sophia was being relieved.

Kim was his physical release. Though undoubtedly beautiful she tended to carry a conversation that revolved around how horrible his girlfriend of six months was. Tonight was no different. Cameron had taken off from his convenient family dinner for her house and arrived promptly at six and found Kim home alone. The blond hunk had even bothered to dress nicely in a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans and a charcoal plaid button up shirt. His football player body resonated with tension from a long day of calculus and practice. In his mind continued an inner monologue of sorts constantly revolving around the two women in his life. Kim was temporary he continued to tell himself. She would only be in the picture until Sophia finally got off her high horse. The more he thought about it the more he was trying to find a way to seduce her, draw her into the idea and mood. The whole being blunt and forward in action had gotten him slapped twice in the past month, and scolded too like a bad dog. It was those nights when he was especially quick to leave. It did annoy him and it was then that he tended to talk more to Kim than just use her for a good release.

Tonight he hadn’t seen Soph since school and without intention of seeing her that evening he’d decided he’d rock himself out before he hit the hay early. Kim made his skin rivet with gooseflesh when she presented herself, opening the door to an otherwise empty house. It was odd, he thought. Her parents never seemed to be home. “Hi,” he said huskily before stepping in to quickly wrap his arms around her tiny waist, pulling her up to him without a moment to waste.

They’d moved through the house before finding her room. He knew the layout well enough, even which drawer he could find her socks in. Tonight he wasn’t in the mood for talking yet Kim continued her dissing of Sophia. Cameron took his iPhone out of his pocket as he stripped and set it on her nightstand in case something came up. It was the one rule he had with his parents when he went out, they had to be able to reach him no matter what.

They tumbled and he was satiated but sooner before later his phone was vibrating with a message. Kim rolled over to glance at the screen which, though locked, displayed the first line of a text from Sophia highlighted in pink blaring at her face. Immediately he followed to snatch it away from her, sitting upright and seeing what it said.

“Something’s up tonight. Can you come over? – Soph”

Cameron sighed and with a flick of his thumbs tapped in a quick ASAP response. He leaned over to kiss Kim on the cheek who seemed to rage at the idea that he was being called away. The monologue continued.

“Why do you let her do this to you? This is pure bull s**t! She treats you like you have no needs! She isn't the one for you! Why won't you understand that? Just stay here! Forget her!”

He shook his head and slipped out of her sheets snatching his jeans off the floor and dressing himself as quickly as he could. Slipping his shirt on he stood up, listening to her as she shouted out at him. Sometimes he did wonder whether or not Sophia was worth it but then again he was sure he could get her into his bed soon enough. She’d never objected to him on religious faith so it wasn’t that she was saving herself for marriage, she’d just always told him she hadn’t been ready. Sophia’s feisty nature drew him in. She was difficult to tame, uneasy to predict which he liked. She seemed as if she were a lioness and he was hunter while Kim on the other hand was that faithful dog who would follow him and do as he said. There was no challenge to her because when he wanted something she gave into him. Some days it was nice, others it was boring.

“Don't walk away from me!” she shouted from behind him. If he had a dime for every time she said that…

“Bye,” he said with a grin, turning to look her in the face, take in the sight of her in her bedroom doorway before closing it behind him. He was halfway down the drive when the door opened again, and she shouted at him uselessly before overreacting and slamming it shut. Shrugging off the action he jumped into his car knowing that he would have to drive across town to get to Soph. Maybe that was a good thing that Kim didn’t know where she lived.

[Korrye]

✖ ✖ ✖ HALLE CANDACE VANCURENX↴
xxxxxxxxxxx( 27 ) xx ( FEMALE) xx ( HALO ) xx ( Cosmic Love ) xx ( KORRYE )



The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat
I tried to find the sound
But then, it stopped, and I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became...



↘↘ I was named after my grandmother, a cranky Scandanavian woman who died in 1944 getting her children out of Europe.
↘↘ I was born on August 5th in the middle of a drought. The next day it rained.
↘↘ I was engaged to be married until last year to the most charming man, Declan Berkeley
↘↘ I know that Slenderman sent a proxy after Declan, the woman drove him mad.
↘↘ I found Declan dead in the back yard, impaled and just like all the others.
↘↘ I've since been hit by depression and have grown addicted to sleeping pills.
↘↘ I found out about Slender through my husband's journals where he chronicled his dementia.
↘↘ I've worked as a computer analyst since I went to university; I mostly freelance.
↘↘ Since Declan died I've taken his German Shepherd Buck into my care.
↘↘ I've been traveling and mirroring the path of a runner, staying in safehouses.
↘↘ Since I actively started hunting Slender I've been stalked in my sleep.
↘↘ I was trained in police tactics and worked with S.W.A.T. for a brief period of time.
↘↘ When I can't sleep, I run -- outside or on a treadmill.
↘↘ I know that I can't kill slender but I figure he could do without his proxies.
↘↘ I'm addicted to really strong coffee and toast for food.
↘↘ I'm an heiress so money has never been an issue.
↘↘ I fear I will fall into my fiances wake and suffer the same fate.
↘↘ I'm a devote Catholic, my faith is important to me.
↘↘ I wish I could return to a life of knowing nothing and innocence.
↘↘ I am still a heartbroken impatient woman, I wouldn't want to get on my nerves.
↘↘ ██████ #7a4521

[Korrye]

“Please come back to bed honey....”

Her voice resonated across the room, catching the corners of the wall and bouncing off the silhouette of the man she loved. He stood on the ledge of the doorway leading onto the balcony. The resulting draft from having the doors thrown back had cast the bed-sheets aside. The room was forty degrees easy; such was life in Napa Valley. The breeze carried the bitter smell of the winery’s grapes causing her nose to wrinkle. The scent contrasted against the warm vanilla of the air freshener in the bathroom. Ivory translucent curtains billowed around her fiancés figure; highlight his broad jock shoulders and topless physique. Swallowing deeply the woman sat up in bed and watched him, noticing the immense lines of tension running through his body. Every muscle in his back was taught and emphasized more so due to the fact that he was dehydrated. Something had already been off at diner. Declan had refused to drink anything.

Tonight felt strange. He surely wasn’t himself. His shoulders heaved with each deep breath. They seemed to bring him pain and the labor of his actions made her worried. Kicking back the sheets she rose, feeling the coolness of the floor cause her to shiver. As she stepped behind the man she loved the hardwood floor creaked as her left foot settled on it. Immediately he whirled around to face her, his right arm catching her in the collarbone and sending her backward. Screaming with fright she was tossed onto the floor, landing defensively on her side. Scrambling to stand he approached her, his eyes wild with insanity. They stared at her with a dark intensity, nearly entirely black due to his chocolate colored eyes. They were the eyes of a complete stranger.

“Declan?” she asked, her mouth contorting into a fearful display. Her lips were pulled down and she viewed him with horror and terror. Then he blinked and his body seemed to slacken. He lowered himself to stand firmly on his feet. He’d been up on his toes towering over her, as if he were being controlled by something completely demonic. “Halle?” he asked her with the voice of something like a six-year-old boy. There was just as much fright possessing him as there was in her. Raising to stand she took his face into her hands. He leaned into her and wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know, I don’t understand,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The man in him had been completely whipped. In his arms she trembled feeling her eyes water while her mind echoed ominous words, “I don’t know either.”


* * *


Driving was therapeutic. As a teenager she’d spent more time driving away her frustration than anything else. Speeding for a quarter of a mile allowed her to just drift and forget whatever was on her mind. Since Declan however, she couldn’t do anything to erase the image from her mind. Even at the thought of his name the image of his contorted naked body would come to bled, impaled on a fence post, bleeding and mangled. His face was thrown back in a response of torture, his eyes closed but his mouth animated. He’d been completely posed, completely worn down and eventually butchered. There was no memory of his smiling face, handsome figure, just the end to which his life had gone. Murder.

The skies were like pitch: consuming. The stars were dissipating the closer she approached metropolis. Her Toyota Tundra blended into the road. With the V-8 roaring she listened to the sounds of the night, feeling out of tune with life. It seemed surreal now to have not physically lived anywhere longer than a month or two. Home had always been in Napa. Living on a winery estate had been family tradition. Her chunk of the family plot remained in her name though her brother Adam – not having seen her for the past year – was beginning to bicker over property rights. In all fairness she hadn’t dropped off the map completely. It wasn’t that Halle didn’t call; she merely left messages which apparently would no longer suffice.

The night air jarred her, brought her back to that strange night of violence. His charming looks and personality had swayed her when they’d met at fifteen. He had been a California city boy persuaded to work his summers away in a vineyard for the money and the ability to get a killer tan. Everything about him had been too good to be true. Two years before their death they’d become engaged. That was when things began to go awry. There was no history of insanity in his family, no recollection from any living relative of his of any sort of dementia. The nightmares came first until eventually he was put on high dosage sedatives to stop him from kicking Halle out of bed. Then came the blackouts, the mysterious disappearances followed by wounds and bruises. The violence had come last. He’d simply begun to lash out at anything that got near to him. The Declan she had loved receded into himself and he became a monster before he was killed. And she knew he had been killed by that sadistic sonofabitch and his proxies.

Flicking a strand of her wavy dark brown hair from her eyes she sat back into the drivers seat, one elbow propped on the window so that her hand could cradle her head while the other held the wheel. Next to her on the passenger’s seat was Buck, a ninety pound German Shepherd and Declan’s personal hunting dog. The animal was content to ride shotgun, occasionally moving from where he lay to set his head against the window to stare out as if on guard. For the moment the dog was alert but sticking his nose into the breeze.

“Almost there,” Halle sighed, her voice carrying a lilting sadness. Her body slumped a little and her shoulders sagged, the weight of her condition bearing down on her. Halle couldn’t deny her exhaustion. The city’s outskirts had welcomed them fifteen minutes before. The roads began to grow with business despite the early hour. Winding through a residential area first she began to keep an eye out for the symbol she’d come to adore as free hospitality. The runners had never contacted her, but Declan had scrawled it down on a note he’d written to himself the night before he died. The image of his dead body filled her head again and she tensed, jerking back into her seat suddenly with revulsion. Buck raised his head to look at her, tilting his long head sideways in curiosity. Sometimes Halle had to wonder whether or not he knew more than she did about the whole ordeal.

It wasn’t until she was closer to the city interior that she spotted it. The café was small, a small candle lit in the window. She had to drive further than she would have liked to find parking but she didn’t like alleyways more than the average urban dweller. The lot was in the basement of a large building, for the most part taken up by apartment owners while the other section as rented out to the public. As Halle drove in she accepted a ticket from the automated system. Upon descending into it’s concrete depths she felt locked in and trapped. There was something about a lack of windows and reflective surfaces that left her hanging and if anything more paranoid than normal. She was quick to park and lock up, pulling a rucksack from the passenger floor onto her lap. Pulling out contents from the center console, Halle stuffed any papers linking the vehicle to her into the bag. Upon confirming she had everything with her she stepped out, allowing Buck to follow her loose. The dog refused to leave her side. Locking up she departed, pulling her hood over her head and stuffing her hands into her pockets.

The walk back to the café was eerie. The streets were filled with randoms. Halle was careful to avoid the streets with questionables, those who looked more like drug dealers or prostitutes than anything else. The homeless were asleep. Buck had overcome his need to sniff each person long before. Eventually they reached the café front where upon leaning into the door she knocked before looking up into the sky. “Another day comes to greet me,” she murmured, letting her hand fall to her side so that she may scratch behind the ears of her companion.

[Korrye]

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In bibendum tempus odio, vitae fermentum metus vulputate nec. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae; Duis sem turpis, ullamcorper ac convallis in, scelerisque et nunc. Integer nisl purus, placerat at porta sit amet, bibendum quis leo. Nunc at eros vitae nulla adipiscing pellentesque. Nam enim purus, semper id lacinia eget, posuere a mi. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae; Aenean ut velit velit, a ornare sem. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Phasellus adipiscing, augue eu laoreet placerat, augue velit pharetra risus, a sodales ante lectus non leo. Nulla ac lorem auctor turpis semper venenatis. Donec fringilla, nulla vitae ultrices ornare, eros dui tincidunt ligula, at laoreet risus eros in enim. Nullam sed nisi sed dolor hendrerit porttitor eget id elit. Fusce eget est quam. Maecenas condimentum lacinia accumsan. Aenean eget diam tellus.

Vivamus eget massa magna. Quisque vitae adipiscing erat. Nunc convallis, metus vel feugiat blandit, mauris dui condimentum nulla, eu varius turpis neque sit amet magna. Mauris aliquet est tortor, vel lobortis metus. Integer tristique lobortis purus a venenatis. Donec libero nibh, tincidunt ut bibendum vel, ultrices non erat. Suspendisse potenti. Suspendisse potenti. Aliquam erat volutpat. Nam quis urna ut erat dapibus mattis. Donec ac interdum nisi.

Suspendisse tempor felis quis nibh rhoncus vitae pretium dui fringilla. Maecenas dignissim, nisl sed congue vehicula, libero augue faucibus leo, sit amet ultrices turpis nibh tempus turpis. Donec lectus sapien, interdum et lacinia at, fermentum et ipsum. Suspendisse consequat eleifend massa, id eleifend leo posuere eget. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos himenaeos. Morbi dignissim luctus metus, non adipiscing leo imperdiet quis. c** sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Proin aliquam volutpat blandit. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Vivamus tristique mattis adipiscing. Morbi fringilla rhoncus urna, vitae interdum lacus elementum eget. Mauris vel nulla ante. Curabitur consectetur pulvinar rutrum. Cras quis arcu ante, eget tempus augue. Nulla eget orci imperdiet sapien molestie auctor at et risus. Nullam molestie pharetra urna, vitae ornare massa aliquam vehicula. Vestibulum viverra blandit orci in pulvinar. Duis elit nibh, ultrices a pharetra at, pulvinar et arcu. Curabitur eget quam sit amet enim sagittis pretium.

[Korrye]

The Latin words slid off her tongue in slow melodic beats. Her hands tapped the side of her hips to ensure her rhythm didn’t break. Patting the long folds of a dark and thick cape she created a boundary of shifting air in front of her. Each beat maintained her pace of incantation but each movement created a disturbance in the air. The shifts in clusters wafted away from her directed by her lips and the slow emphatic speech. Her head was tilted back towards the sky with her shadowy eyes closed, kept from sight behind lids which were smooth with youth. Her body was rigid and tight, breathing in an energy she was both harnessing and creating. The paleness of her skin would appear to glow if it weren’t for the protection cast she’d maintained for the past three months. Her presence was masked. No human could feel her behind them, watching and analyzing the actions of a few. No footprints were left behind when she moved from place to place, nor a trace of her body. If a stray hair did fall, as they did, they lost the power of her youth and turned white and otherly. Disconnected from her spirit they lost her strength and finesse. To the many living she was non-existent, a girl long since thought to be dead.

Scarlett Lalonde was far from the place of her birth. In the midst of an endless vision of snow and ice the region in which she was casting was both frigid and barren. The unpopulated wastes of fields were largely deserted for the moment. A time of great loss was coming to it, not only in what she intended to accomplish but by man himself. The impending deaths of soldiers fighting for their supposed freedoms led to a tension in the air. The opposing parties were far from meeting but she was assured that by morning of the next day there would be death on the wind.

The witch stood tall and consumed in her work. The breeze came in gusts, throwing back the hood of a long dark black cloak that she wore over an elegant but outdated dress and petticoat. Her shock of red hair was cast behind her as the wind pulled on the strands playfully. The occasion didn’t make her pause or lose track of her breaths. Her dark lips continued to release smooth utterances of Latin origin, calling out a trace of the two men she sought.

Months of trailing them had led her to the right moment. At a point in which they were completely alone, and no doubt in a pair instead of a trio, she held an advantage. They knew her as a six-year-old girl, belonging to a family of bewildered farmers in Beauvais. If they recalled her face then the episode played a role in their extended lives. She didn’t expect them to remember her. It had been thirty-four years since the night itself. Though she should resemble a slightly graying forty year old woman the girl was barely twenty, her body untouched by wrinkles or age spots unlike many of the people she’d grown up with. By then she should have married and given birth to numerous children, raised a family and inherited the bountiful fertile property on which she’d been born. What should have been, unfortunately, was far from what was. Scarlett’s presence in Flanders meant far more to her than most. It meant the beginnings of a course of action she had had planned since she was thirteen, the time when she had discovered that she wasn’t ordinary – she was a witch.

The men she called out to locate and find, using a sensory echo of her own generation, were not human either. In fact they were far older than she was. They were physically stronger and men of a stock not often found in contemporary times. They weren’t soldiers or peasants, aristocrats or capitalists. They were nomadic vampires, two of a trio who had led to her family’s vicious slaughter. They were men in appearance, the most dashing and handsome kind who could fetch any dowry they desired, any woman they wanted. They weren’t, however, kind. They were monsters, thieving and self-interests beasts. They deserved what she had planned for them. The heat of her desire to see them suffer brought with it an emotional surge of energy into her spell.

The wind picked up suddenly. A short gust of wind reached her face. It cast her hair in front of her, which then caught on her lips and eyes. She stopped chanting and held her hands out slightly from her sides, palms forward and fingers locked together. Her back arched and she threw her head back further. Through her nose and mouth she inhaled deeply with the wind, and with it came a revelation. In her mind the visualization of the pair came to her, clear and crisp. Amidst an endless field of white they too were stationed nearby. Though the purposes of their location there were unknown to her, the winds declared that they were in fact alone. A three mile radius separated them from others and they were no more than two from her current position. They were excited. On their faces were broad smiles, pulling back pale skin to reveal perfect teeth and flawless complexions. They were joking, it seemed, and the elder seemed to be basking in his position of answering a tedious question. The younger looked far more like a brother than a son to the older. Scarlett knew better yet, for one had sired the other. What greater pain than to break the bond that held them together, but more so to have one do it to the other under her influence.

A smile pulled at her lips and she felt a sinister feeling pool in her gut, a feeling she welcomed. The wind died down and she broke from her incantation. Allowing her body to slacken and her hands to fall to her sides, Scarlett released the deep breath within her. Her chest fell and her eyes flickered to open. Her irises faded from a dark brown near black to a dull blue. The sun wasn’t hidden behind a thick veil of clouds like she had planned. Instead the sun made its bold appearance with few noticeable clouds passing overhead. The brightness of the snow and weather may disadvantage her but if she was to try at any point to attack them, now was the time. Scarlett knew full well that an opportunity may not present itself again like it did now. When she began walking it was with a purpose, the shield charm still rendering herself hidden. No track of footsteps followed in her wake.

The walk wasn’t long. Within minutes the dots signaling the vampires position appeared on her horizon. Scarlett withdrew a long steel railway stake, fresh from a factory in Normandy. The metal was untarnished and cold in her hand. She took it in her right hand and began to slowly mouth the spell. “I obtinebimus eos. Patiar ventus et potestatem venire me Spiritus in me virium haud frangit.”

The non-verbal exercise was communicated in her mind starting with a low prayer before calling forth a power she had only wielded a few times. The rhythm to her speech came with the pace of her steps. With each footfall came a beat to which she emphasized the syllable of her incantation. As she began to approach she could make out their distinct features. Neither one of them had changed a day physically, what differed was their clothing. "Videmus et vestes, minor et major, sed ut fratres tenentur vitam aeternam. “Da tenetur infringere. Da vinci viribus. Venite ad me. Protege.”

The vampires were masked as travelers, dressed in unnecessary layers to mimic what could have been a rural trader. They spoke to one another, the younger still questioning the older. The war seemed to occupy them both. Their energy was spastic, coming forth in bursts of excitement before it would pause. They exuded no warmth or heartbeat, merely random expressions of emotions from previous lives.

Scarlett began to circle them, coming from behind the younger who stood opposite of his ‘brother.’ His name she knew was Christovarko. Documentation to the land they had owned next to her family’s plot proved this. As she approached him the steel in her hand began to warm in her hand, beginning to glow from the sharp tip to the handle. She gripped it firmly, moving behind the vampire slowly, careful to continue the spell non-verbally.

"Alligabitur mihi sanguine et spiritu."

As she raised her hands over his head they both drew still. The older tilted his head to the side. The shield charm was weakening due to their own magical influences. At once she knew she had to act.

Inside her chest her heart began to race. The smell of their skin revolted her. The sight of them made a rage fester and blister her hands. Her forehead tightened and she fought for control as the emotional bursts they drew from her began to channel into the spell. “A capite ad calcem. Alligabitur mihi sanguine et spiritu. Non potest interficere. Si vita sumitur ipse sequar. Mors nobis tenent extorqueat ravit!” Scarlett roared, the spell in her mind becoming powerful words. “A capite ad calcem,” she shouted again, the repetition echoing deep within her. Scarlett arched her arms and in a swift movement threw all of her power into driving the stake through the chest of the vampire in front of her. He bucked under the movement and dangerously threw his hands out in defense. His fingers scraped the side of her neck. The steel stake, however, melted through the layers of clothing he wore. It broke his skin with ease and followed through his back. It burned through layers of dead flesh, melting away organs left to disuse before crystallizing in its position.

She was bound to him.

With no time to acknowledge the younger one’s reaction she began to move, pulling from around her neck a thick rosary of black beads and a dark metal cross. The elder began to curse at her, hissing and leaning like an animal in toward her. As he moved to attack her he was met with a wall that surrounded her. While the invisibility of her shield charm was broken, she maintained the powerful block. It wouldn’t be until she had moved to include him in the bubble on her own that she would be vulnerable. There were of course, many spells she could use to avoid that. She moved to freeze the both of them. The energy in her limbs began to fold outward, gathering in clusters surrounding the two of them.

“Adhuc autem, et adhuc solidum tenetur et immobiles a magica viribus tenebrarum. Tester me odia. Ira mea contineant. Sit tamen.”

The vampire shrieked when suddenly her immobilization hit him. Scarlett's body jerked when she knew she had a hold of them. The both of them were frozen, one in unbearable pain and his sire in no position to aid him. They shouted at her, at one another, communicating rapidly with no ability to dissuade her from her state of mind. The magick continued to following her direction. “You of all people should know what you did,” she sputtered suddenly. She kept her hands extended, one palm facing each of the vampires. “I will torture you as you have me, all this time.”

Her body was tight. Her skin rippled with static and energy. The hood of her cloak was lowered and her red hair flew about her. The skin on her forehead bunched in her concentration, her lips fluid with words.The darkness of her makeup, perhaps, disguised her but she was still herself. Scarlett Lalonde exuded the same power, if not more, than she had when they had known her. Whether or not the recognition dawned on them or not she knew she was to proceed. She began to chant again, pulling at the binding of the steel stake in Christovarko’s chest. The Latin rolled with her again and her eyes closed while she began to envision his movements. The killing would begin and he would be the one to carry out the death of his own brother. She was too concentrated to feel anymore for them but hatred. The spell fed on it. The more she felt repulsed by the them easier it was to manipulate the man through which she'd driven the stake. It was only a matter of time before they felt her pain and loss.

[Korrye]

- - - - - * Korrye☆

___ ✓ _ Parvati Annamaria Olvera
________ 27 ________ FEMALE

____❝ Undaunted ❞ ❝ Calculative ❞ ❝ Vixen ❞
_____ ▄▄▄ ▄▄▄ ▄▄▄ ▄▄▄ ▄▄▄
__ ☢ FIRE type
_ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hey there! Here's my reserve for the bounty hunter position. My test thread is here. If you need anything more recent (I haven't updated the thread in awhile) then let me know and I can send it your way. I'm an EST time zone, meaning my current time is 7:15pm. I'm on summer break from university meaning I have four months and nothing to do but work a job and writer (yahoo!).

[Korrye]

Color 1: #AA3853
Color 2: #3D0101
Color 3: #F38562
Color 4: #FF4834

Parvati Annamaria Olvera___________ ______
KORRYE




THE THOUGHT WILL BEAR FRUIT THE THOUGHT WILL BEAR FRUIT THE THOUGHT WILL BEAR FRUIT
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Drifting away___ + Cabin #1001
❏ ❏ ❏ ▏▏Vixen __ ♀

❏ ❏ ❏ ▏▏Twenty-four ▏▏July 29th


SMALL BOTTLE OF GLASS SMALL BOTTLE OF GLASS SMALL BOTTLE OF GLASS SMALL BOTTLE OF GLASS
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_____________________ Fire ℥ type



looking good! ↘↘

Standing at 5"9 she's taller than the average girl at her height. Weighing 130 pounds, she's a size six and more than sturdy on her feet, or in a pair of three inch heels. A thick bunch of muscles gather in her calves and biceps, providing her with an apt ability to take down any target like a brute. At the same time she possesses an apt agility allowing her to run like the gazelles of old lands. Parvati inherited most of her physical qualities from her father. Her looks, however, came from her mother. Her skin is slightly pale, though often browned by the sun due to too much time outside. She has a slight spray of freckles on her nose and thick dark pink lips. Her cheeks flush more than she can help it, either when she's working a sweat or even due to her emotions. Parvati's hair is long, thick and blackish blue. It possesses a slight wave and lands on her lower back in terms of length. In terms of tattoos she has two specific ones, the first being a bar-code on her inner ribcage with a bounty hunter ID number given to her by the social justice system of Bleu. The second is a lion located on her lower back symbolizing her independent strength. In terms of clothes Parvati tends to be dressed in functional near military style apparel. Parvati loves her cargo pants and the color olive. Earth tones tend to color her wardrobe, along with a series of tight fitting black outfits. She often wears holsters for weapons on her upper thighs and underarms. Her clothes are often nylon or spandex and tight fitting especially when she's working as a bounty hunter. On the streets as a normal citizen she wears loose fitting comfortable clothes, sweaters with longer sleeves and often leaves her hair down. On the job she ties it back as best she can in a mesh-work of braids and pinned back pieces.




history ↘↘

The Olvera family isn’t all butterflies, rainbows and happily ever after’s. They didn’t have a once upon a time either. Five grandfather’s down the family line, Parvati’s relative Jacobi Olvera had been a long time servant of a rich family in the Vesteth region. A wealthy industry tycoon had quite a bit of money under his belt but his wife had never been that faithful. And she had also been a bit of a drunk which led to a horrendous mistake. One night as Jacobi was leaving the kitchen, his patron’s wife approached him and tried to seduce him. The woman was so crafty she had him bent over her in a minute. Only Jacobi’s patron walked in. Immediately his entire family was banished, sentences to an indefinite stay on the ‘other side’ in Bleu. A set of servants and butlers were quickly met with brutes and the underground communities of bad business and illegalities. Adjusting was done over time.

Parvati’s great grandfather gradually accumulated enough property to have a well built house, small plot of garden and sleeping quarters for each of his family members. At the same time he began martial arts instruction. His keep became a guild of sorts, a group of trained mercenaries who would accept tasks, good or bad, in exchange for payment. The tradition was kept and passed down to the eldest son through the lines.

Parvati Olvera was born into this tradition as the second child to her parents, Zohar and Farrah. Her older brother, Dannon, was immediately taken with his father’s enterprise, which for as long as it had existed had been run by men. Parvati was taken under her mother’s wing and taught to cook and manage the accounting books. She was a young thing that was quickly left on her own to thrive. Not soon after she was born came her twin sisters, Eliza and Laina, followed by her youngest brother Jenson. Under their roof were another twenty to thirty guild members that came in and out, receiving training or simply spending the night as they travelled through. Money was never tight but it was never bountiful. The Olvera children weren’t spoiled. The boys were expected to train from the time they were six. The girls spent every moment away from their brothers, away from the trainees, and with many other maids. Parvati spent her time washing the floors on her hands and knees, committing herself to the laundry and beating rugs. When she was thirteen she moved from the harder work to accounting and meal arrangements. It was then that she began to mingle with the boys because she served them.

Parvati wasn’t short on looks, even in her early teenaged years. She was also brash and tomboyish, longing for more than women’s work. Her father was nothing short than her idol. She spent her days envying her brothers, specifically Dannon. Of all of Zohar’s children, he only truly paid attention to his eldest. In his mind he was the most important, the one who would continue the business, bring in the money, and progress their legacy. When Parvati was thirteen, her brother was eighteen. It was then that he first left home on missions for the guild and nothing could have gone worse.

Dannon had always been close to his sister when they were alone. They spoke often for hours about the trivialities of their parents and chores. They would complain of aching joints and being tired, the local gossip and what they were going to do the next day. Yet Dannon was a completely different character around their father. He was arrogant and full of pride. There was an ego within him that was continuously inflated. Dannon felt that he could own the world and whomever he pleased.

His first guild task was to escort an elite Vesteth artisan through the markets on a delivery. The trader was a rich elite who, somehow, found inspiration in the grungy life of Bleu. It was a typical job assigned to low level members because it had never warranted any negative attention. People who messed with this artisan faced tribunals that were relentless. Dannon’s mistake, however, wasn’t in letting his guard down on attackers. It was in wanting to marry the artisan, a woman.

Dannon was immediately infatuated with the artisan. He effectively hit a wall however, when it came to the class system and even the woman herself. She admired his strength but she didn’t feel attracted to him. Dannon couldn’t take it. Something in him snapped and the control he had been taught broke. He kidnapped her. By the end of the day he was killed by Vesteth authorities who had come over on the latest ship.

The Olvera family soon found itself with a debt owed to the artisan’s family. Scarred by the experience, the girl went mute. Her father was horrified and demanded several million in damages. It was money the family couldn’t pay immediately so a payment plan was worked out. Zohar began to take on more recruits, working them harder than before. He also looked toward his family for support. While the twins were unskilled, he accepted that his daughter Parvati was an asset. At thirteen she was taken into the guild and set on a rigorous round of training.

Her mother began an organized brothel on her side of the house, following an ancient practice of sensual meetings and bidding wars, close to geisha practices of old. The girls weren’t whores, they were elegant and poised. The twins became apart of the business. Money began to accumulate but it all went to paying off Dannon’s debt.

Parvati wasted no time with her practice. She flourished under her father’s instruction and accelerated through martial arts and agility practices. At the age of eighteen she too began to accept guild tasks, no matter the danger.

At twenty she was more than used to her father sending her out for the tycoons. Often business officials began to approach Zohar requesting he find someone who owed them a debt. It was a tricky practice, especially since most of them were men. Parvati possessed another hand, the art of seduction.

For all her martial arts and combat training, Parvati still knew her mother’s practices. She could act the part of a gentile woman, poised and tempting. She earned the name of Vixen after seducing a man for the first time and handing him over to those who wanted him. He shouted it out after her, along with a biblical reference to some character named Delilah. Parvati knew no other religion other than her line of work. She dedicated herself to it, and to her parent’s bidding. When she turned twenty-one it became obvious that they wanted her to marry.

Dannon’s debt was paid off shortly after her twenty-first birthday. After many toiling years of work they had made it. They now knew too that they had something to gain by committing their Vixen daughter to a man. The search for a husband began, a suitor. Jenson was in no position to accept the business. While a loyal guild member he lacked the management common sense required to ensure its survival. Parvati would inherit it, but her father refused to hand it down straight to her, as did the authorities. She hated patriarchy.

The long string of suitors and bidders came quickly when they realized she was to be tamed. While her parents oriented themselves in their list of demands, Parvati simply committed herself to her work even more so. She took many missions back to back to stay out of the compound. Bounty hunting was her preferred stream of work. A year went by before they found the man they felt was right. He had been associated with the guild for many years, a wealthy individual who was strong and cunning. He knew Parvati and had since she was thirteen and began serving the men meals for a short time before Dannon’s mishap. His name was Theo.

They were wed shortly before she turned twenty-two. Parvati quickly had to learn to love him for the man adored her. It was hard to turn away his affection. Soon she knew he was meant for her but he seemed like too much of a good thing. As soon as they were wed Theo began to run the guild alongside her father. Her mother began to search for husbands for the twins as well. Because of Olvera prominence they too were sought after.

Time with Theo went by. When Parvati was twenty-five her father passed away. He grew ill slowly and over the course of a year slowly died. He accepted his fate, as did his wife. The funeral was very private, despite their public prominence. Zohar was a man who wished to be cremated, not buried. He wanted no ceremony or celebrations in his honor. He wanted life to continue on as normal. Loyalties to Zohar were transferred to Theo and Parvati. Her mother continued on with her work. Not a week later was Parvati back on a mission.

Theo didn’t mind how often she left or her independent streak which made them compatible. Quite often she was distracted. The thought of him sometimes had her occupied on a job, allowing for a few slip-ups. His passion, she began to believe, was corroding her abilities when she should be in her prime. When she turned twenty-six a local unaffiliated rival in bounty hunting arose. Trouble immediately began to arise.

The Olvera reputation depended on coming through on contracts. Suddenly several of Parvati’s were undermined. The first two times she didn’t catch a trace of her opponent. The third was when she saw the Water Type for the first time, or more his back which really didn’t give her anything to go on. He was just younger than her but dashing all the same. He was also startlingly efficient.

When the contract came up for the Steel Type’s head immediately the Olvera family received it and Parvati committed herself to it. The boy was troublesome and erratic. He was also involved with his own affairs which made him a busy man to follow. The bounty for the Steel Type would be more than enough to allow her a brief break from work. It would support the family while they set themselves up for a double wedding for her sisters. She couldn’t risk losing the contract given it’s prestige either. Yet her opponent seemed to be on the same trail, and more so, incredibly difficult for her to deal with alone.

For a week she tracked the steel type, familiarized herself as best she could with him as a target. Then he bought the ticket for the ship which, unfortunately, required Parvati to follow him. Vesteth would undoubtedly still have the Olvera family on their blacklist. No prison term on Bleu ever seemed to be erased, no longer how old. Thankfully she had documentation with her husbands last name, an unfamiliar one. The paperwork was appropriately passed through with favors. A wardrobe was purchased and sewn to display a wealth she didn’t truly possess. But given her mother’s acting lessons and postures she had no troubles in passing herself off as a Vesteth citizen.

Now aboard Parvati is working to maintain her cover, while also track her target and ensure her opponent is one she can defeat – which means enlisting the appropriate allies.



super powered!
Internal Combustion

• With an intense and focused look into the eyes of any foe, Parvati can force a person's inner organs to burn. It isn't an actual fire but a mental action, simulating a pain that's undeniably unbearable. It takes, of course, intense concentration. At most she can only do it for ten seconds. It also takes a lot of energy on her part but needless to say, it's very effective.


Flame Burst

• From an existing fire source Parvati can take control of the element, split it and manipulate it. She can move it with her hands and direct it toward any opponent. The strength and size of the flames is dependent on her emotions, which when volatile or felt in the extreme increase her powers' strength. Extended use of this power can cause burns on her palms, and of course takes hold of her energy and sucks it up. At the same time, though, it can increase her emotions. The more she wants to feed on them for energy and force in her attacks, the more she has to feel them, which is against much of her personal mantras of emotional boundaries and walls.


Non-elemental Abilities

• Martial arts
• Long distance running
• Climbing
• Time management
• Acting
• Staying alive

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═══════════ ═══════════ ═══════════

✜: running, fireworks, outdoors, mountains, sunny weather, the hunt, martial arts, animals

►:swimming, rainstorms, cars, insects, spoiled foods, alcohol, being hunted, poverty, bureaucracy

♠: death by drowning, water wells

[Korrye]

[Korrye]

The elder vampire was quickly flustered, something she wouldn’t have expected from a creature of his suspected age. Scarlett held fast in her position, bracing herself with her hands extended in front of her, her legs firm in the ground. As the animal threw the full force of his strength into her shield she grunted, feeling the pressure of his rage and supernatural prowess threatening to break through. Relinquishing her the charm would mean a certain death at the creature’s hand, especially given it’s extraordinary strength and knowledge of combat warfare. She knew she wouldn’t stand a chance and so she threw herself back into him, allowing her revulsion for everything that he was to well up inside of her. A steady stream of thought came form her mind into the force of her magick, expelled in words and incantations. A sweat broke out on her forehead, which was scrunched into numerous layers. In her mind she visualized the destruction that had come upon her family, a painful resort given. The images of blood-splattered walls came first, the memories vivid despite her youth at the time. The bodies were there, or what was left of them. The clawed out faces and gouged bones left thick with the spittle of abominable creatures. At the sight of her mother came a peak of upset. Her body roared and pulsed with energy. She screamed and with that she knew her defenses had been reinforced. At this she bound him, feeling the spell hold him for the moment, though she knew it wouldn’t last long.

The staked vampire was fleetingly holding on. She felt the binding taking hold. It was temporary for the moment. What kept them together was the steel railway stake in his chest. Had it been wood it would have killed him, something she didn’t want. A swift death was too generous for a creature who had done her such harm. Scarlett began to seal her puppet strings into his mind. Keeping her eyes closed and her hands out facing Daniel, who continued to barrage her with ruthless attacks, she called out to the younger. He was in pain, feeling the spread of her influence and the heat of the metal. He screamed and the tones of his voice struck her ears and added to her strength. There was a pride that came from the knowledge of what she was doing. She knew it was working. The sin lifted her shoulders, allowed her body to stand taller and stronger which only added further strength to the calls she was sending to the youth. His name became apparent as his sire shouted at him for his attention. Most of Daniel’s words didn’t make it through to her.

“No-no-no-no-no, Varko. Varko, pay attention. Christovarko, look at me right now!" he screamed. She tilted her head back breathing in deeply and speeding up the pace of her words so that they flowed together in slurred beats, smooth and compelling. “Perii. Sta. Sentio pedum. Fortis es. Perii. Get up.” From there she gave him energy, feeling a numbing sensation crawl up her own legs as she permitted Varko to feel a strength he didn’t actually possess. At this she freed the other, a tension releasing. Her left hand, which at that point had continuously been actively facing Daniel in order to hold him down, balled into a fist.

The vampires came together, the elder concerned. It was as if Scarlett wasn’t privy to their conversation. She didn’t listen to the words they exchanged or pay attention. Their movements were something she sensed and felt. As they moved their disturbed the air in which they all stood. This didn’t matter to her. The closer Daniel got to Varko the better, making it easier for her to give him the commands she wanted him to complete. “Tene. Hic inimicus. Videbo eum vero. Non est amicus tuus. Occidere. Extincta vitam tua manu est. Moriatur. Occidere. Kill him.”

The witch fully expected to be cast out of the youth’s mind at least once and yet he willingly accepted the notions she commanded him. The voice in which she spoke masked his own, it didn’t come as anything but his own thoughts. She continued to push the link, holding her eyes closed, feeling his strength. As he accepted the notion she stopped chanting, breathing deeply. Varko moved quickly, the noises were obviously. The elder was severely caught off guard. Never in his life would he have anticipated his companion to carry out such an attack against him. Varko was strong, his body moving swiftly to decapitate his sire. "Puerta de cielo dejame entr-.." the elder whispered, his Spanish flawless as he saw his end. Scarlett’s eyes opened with the words, her irises remaining dark and consumed with rage. The words filled her with a new hate. She knew what he meant and wanted. For a vampire who had done such wrong to pray for his deliverance, however, disgusted her. Her lips pursed and tightened. Her hands remained in fists before falling to her sides. With the incantation stopped and her concentration on the scene and not the linkage to Varko himself, the younger vampire was capable of slipping out of his trance. Immediately the horror struck him. His own guilt hit him hard and he threw himself back in such anguish. The air rippled with his depression, a sadness that impacted her and instilled within her a sense of accomplishment. She smiled. It had been done.

“You,” he hissed, his shriek causing him to sputter. A yellowed saliva came from his lips, dripping down onto his chin and shirt. She stared down at him seeing him as only pathetic. He pulled at the steel stake relentlessly. His anger came in bursts. Like a frustrated child he pulled at it and scratched at in futile efforts. He would never win. She would never let him. Now it was time to leave him to his agony, to let his pain sink in before she would resume following him. She knew he would return to his brother where again she would strike. Al the while he would be alone in his agony and searching for something he would never find. It would be endless and she would watch him, knowing that he was suffering, enjoying it all the way.

“I'm going to find you in hell, you hag,” he swore. In one second he changed his fate. “You will know what it's like to feel this suffering, and you will know it to be because of me.”

“You arrogant bigot!” she shouted, flying at him. He seemed to think that she was doing this for her own pleasure at her own pace for no reason at all! His memory was truly flawed. There wasn’t an inkling of recollection on his face as to what what he had done and who she was. “I know this pain. I know this more than you can ever imagine. I, unlike you, am human. I feel so much more than you could ever dream of!”

She slapped him wickedly, coming down upon him with a knee to his chest to pin him for what was to come next. Mentally she condensed the protective shield that surrounded her to within a few inches from her body. Where she held him down was on the stake itself, the metal hard against her joint and discomforting but something she could bear to deal with. “For a beast who prides himself on memory, experience and everlasting life you are a forgetful creature.”

He squirmed underneath her, frustrated with her and his own discontent for her grew. Christovarko, however, hadn’t had forty years to sit around raging and remembering. Her pain was something she saw as existing on another scale than his. The fact that he cursed at her and didn’t remember her took away from her pride. All she was doing was inflicting immeasurable revenge to exact a painful response. Though he was angry, he didn’t realize what he had done long before. The guilt came from his act alone. This pained her. It made her wince and cry inside, feeling the lack of success as being crushing. This wasn’t what she wanted! He had to remember and would at some point. She knew she wouldn’t leave him to be alone in anguish then. At first she had thought for certain of letting him go and simply following him to his other brother but it defeated the purpose of what she wanted from him.

To be with him now meant she would have to have a means to protect herself and prevent him from killing her. The torture of being around him every day and every hour would be more than crippling loneliness for she would provide the constant reminders as to what he had done. A curse came to her mind in an instant and she set about completing it.

From the folds of her dress she pulled a pair of ceremonial daggers. The pair were similar, with the exception of the blades; one was wider than the other. The latter she selected, the former she set aside, and took it immediately to his neck. Holding the edge of the blade against his skin she began to chant, appealing to more than just herself but Varko’s own soul. The incantation was different than her prior spells. The rhythm and pace of the utterances weren’t based on beats and syllables. Instead she was speaking so fast that it seemed more as if the individual sounds were more important than the pace and appeal of it. The spell was old, one of a few she’d managed to decipher from a grimoire dating back to the Viking expeditions. It was incredibly volatile. The moment she began to call her body turned rigid. Darkness seemed to fall upon them. A sensation ran up her spin causing her to arch her back and throw her head back to the sky. Her eyes opened and her irises turned black while the knife still held to Varko’s skin. Her other hand braced herself just above his chest, as close as the shield would permit her to be to him.

“Animi sint alligari Inter terminum vite. Animi sint communia coniuncta sunt et distributi in ambobus. The forum vitae erit Saga communicata. Ciet spiritu suo DUCO eam solvendi habet ties ei. Effice me superficiei pectore veniat foras coniungere sit mihi. Invoco animam meam, et spiritus essentia. Invoco ad faciem sic pectore ut partis. Nos teneri. Nos teneri.”

At the end of the chant she began to repeat herself, calling forth for them to be bound. Beneath the layers of clothing she wore a circular light began to spread above her heart. Close to her collarbone on her left side it began to beat and pulse. From the vampire’s chest came a much smaller light. His remaining humanity was but a quarter of the size of what appeared from the witch. She was drawing forth their souls. The magick’s strength began to cause more than just its intended effects. A drop of blood fell from her nose, sliding along her lips and catching in her mouth the first time, the second on her chin. Her eyes began to flicker and her hand faltered. The spell began to possess her.

“Nos teneri. Nos teneri.”

Taking the blade from Varko’s neck she began to move towards his chest, slicing down through his shirt from where the fabric had torn with the stake. His chest was pale, but the light of his soul was brighter. The blade glowed as it grew closer, at first light before growing darker.

“Nos teneri. Nos teneri.”

Her nose continued to bleed. From her neck, the wound Varko had inflicted began to ooze. Her free hand took hold of the second knife, bringing it to her own chest, pulling the collar of her cape and dress to reveal her collarbone.

“Lorem permutandique misce concurrent. Lorem sociosque animas cogenda. Ad vitam aut mori simul semel. Intellecturum quid faciemus aliis sentit. Ut teneantur vitae.”

With her final words she stabbed with both hands. The blade sank freely into her chest and into his. At once she felt pain, gasping. No blood flowed from the wound, however. Instead came a cloudy vapor, glittering and reflective. It seemed to demand silence of the area. Not a creature stirred. From Varko, where the knife penetrated only half as deep into the corpse of his body, came a yellow cloud, mirroring the color of his venom. It spread out and seemed to multiply in the presence of a human soul, growing until it enveloped hers. Between the two of them they collided. Scarlett felt empty. Her body hung over Varko completely frozen. She couldn’t move and she couldn’t speak. No words came from her mouth and nature seemed in awe of the spectacle, but also afraid. The snow around them melted and beneath them the ground withered. The world seemed to pull away from them.

In one moment she viewed the souls mixing, combining and passing through one another. They held together for what seemed like an eternity before violently parting. The clouds passed suddenly opposite of where they came. A pale yellow cloud threw itself into Scarlett’s chest forcing her body to throw her arms out. Varko was hit with the impact of his own piece of new soul. Scarlett’s body immediately seemed to feel old. There was an ancient air within her of experience and time. Her bones ached at the prospect of knowing so many years. She felt heavy. Her eyelids drooped closed and she panted through her mouth. Her head was heavy.

The two daggers fell from the both of them, expelled by the souls replacement. They clattered to the ground, one to the left, and the other to the right.

There was immediate pain in age. Her body cried out at her, moaning from within. She felt weak and tired. While her nose had stopped bleeding she was still dirty. Inside she felt old. Her heart continued to race, jarring her chest and reaching her ears. The intensity made her ears pop and her eyes flickered. She fell back off of him, breathing deeply in wonder. Had it really worked?

She rolled herself forward, back onto the vampire’s chest. Her shield had been relinquished, dropped at the first moment when they had needed to be connected. Her hand slid over his chest, grabbing the head of the metal stake in his chest. Her palm glowed for an instant before she slid the weapon out from within him. The force it took to withdraw it from him threw her back. She landed in front of him on her butt. The stake itself was coated in a thick black sludge, enough vampire blood to power numerous spells. She tore a strip of fabric from the hem of her dress to wrap it up before stowing it in her cloak.

The vampire began to stir at once, his powerful body healing at a rate that she’d never seen. It took him a minute before he was sitting himself up, rage highlighting his features. Opportunity seemed to take hold of him, an excitement about the prospect of her death, something that was not to come.

“If you kill me, you’ll die. You’ll feel my pain, my suffering, my death and you will follow. Unlike you, however, I will not die. Parts of me are bound to this world. I’ll still find your brother. I’ll still make him suffer,” she threatened. And with that her lips pulled slightly into a cocky smile. Perhaps this was better than her original plan.

[Korrye]

Though naturally attentive the witch had been so focused on spelling the vampires with a few snippets of their conversation that she hadn’t caught onto his lack of attention. The spiritual exchange had brought on a side effect she hadn’t warranted. Varko’s vampiric age had immediately worn her down. It hit her hard and made her heavy and tired. There was little youth or vitality in her. Her rage seemed somewhat dispossessed, kicked out by a deep sadness. This feeling surfaced as a side-effect, a rather unwanted one. The spell hadn’t been practiced by the owner of the grimoire from which it had come with a vampire before. What she was experiencing came as a surprise. She was sure that were it not for the incredible strength and time she’d put into her anti-aging spell she would have become death before him. Her body was fighting itself and pulling itself in two directions, youth and seniority.

She clenched her teeth, panting while she threatened him. It became apparent that her youthful soul had passed into him. If she felt like a part of him, he was experiencing his closest touches of humanity since before he was turned. Another realization came and dawned on her quickly then. Her mind connected his behavioral patterns. Once Varko was focused he seemed to tune out all else with incredible efficiency. As she threatened him with worlds while he hunched over her she may well have been shouting at a brick wall. Fury raged behind his eyes along with the delighted idea behind her torture. It was an expression she had seen on her own face for decades. Her rage was within him. What he was feeling was not entirely his own and fed he fed on it hungrily, openly. She felt the danger and shrank back into the ground. More than that he had completely looked beyond her threats and no recognition of the possible repercussions of his acts.

When he lunged she closed her eyes, turning her head away from him knowing full well that he couldn’t give him the validation of seeing her potential fear. He would learn to listen to her. He took hold of her tightly, his fist clenching around her throat while he picked her off the ground with ease. His fingers clasped tightly into her skin, just tight enough to constrict her airway making it difficult to breath. Scarlett inhaled sharply, gasping like a fish out of water. Her cheeks immediately paled and her eyes she kept closed.

“Your slurs won't save you, now,” Varko muttered, a joy resonating from his voice. He was hungry for her torture. The desire for screams and tears was hers but part of it she recognized was the animal within him. He was now a lion and she the gazelle, held in his maw to stare up at him waiting for a pain that would come. A deep inhale on his part made her quiver. He took in the smell of her like the dogs would. It made her shake in his grasp and her hands she held behind her back. “First things first,” he announced, taking hold of her right hand and bringing it up to him. The wrenching motion forced her to gasp and open her eyes to stare at him. She clucked as she tried to inhale but his grip seemed to tighten at the prospect of hurting her. Dangling in the air her legs were still. The pain was coming. She couldn’t utter a single spell but in her mind she was preparing herself for it. Would he rip her hand off?

Her answer came. He took it and twisted it violently back. She screamed what little she could and threw her legs into his chest, her other arm flailing out in response but catching only air. Quickly she was freed from him. He threw her away from him and she landed n her hands and knees in the snow. Immediately she gasped and coughed, tears running down the tracks of bloods on her cheeks. Her lungs were desperate for a full breath. She dry heaved and felt her stomach tense, her diaphragm quivering from several violent motions. Every part of her body quivered. Scarlett wanted air, she wanted easing to her pain. Her mind clamored with ideas and desires. She cradled her broken hand in her chest, pushing at her fingers that seemed disconnected. It pained her greatly. Fire spread through her bones and ate at her joint, spreading up into her arm as her confused nerves reacted to her pressure.

“Sana me. Quaeso, vestri gratia ad me et hoc emendare inflictum. Oro, exaudi me clamore,” she muttered. Her voice was hoarse and it was difficult to pace the words. The Latin wasn’t smooth or controlled. It took several repetitions, forcefully beckoned. Upon her first two tries she failed because of her lack of heart. There wasn’t a healthy confidence in the words so they fell short. Upon her fifth, concentrated and uninterrupted by coughs repetition the bones began to shift.

She cried as she felt them pulling and healing what had been broken, her eyes continuing to water and her brow furrow with the pain. It wasn’t until it was healed that she rolled off of her hands and knees onto her back, still holding her wrist, testing her fingers, the tears running on their own.

She looked demonic, her red hair splayed out underneath her on white snow like an explosion of blood. Her dark lips were tight, her eyes focused and narrowed on the creature she had bound to her by souls. Her cheeks were run with streams of blood, half washed away by fresh tears. Blood from her nose still was gathered on her chin from where she had bleed and on her neck the earlier inflicted gnash sealed though was still coated with dirt and blood. Her dress was ripped in places, quite dirty in others. Nothing wore her though. Her expression said everything. Scarlett’s rage refilled her and completely overtook her. Her eyes burned with revulsion. Everything in her wanted him to suffer.

“What have you done to me?” he demanded with frustration. She smiled, taking from the folds of her dress with her good hand one of the daggers. “You deaf a**,” she replied, holding up her other hand in front of her, taking the knife in front of him. “Maybe if you see something, you’ll learn.” Taking the blade with an expert hand she sliced at her palm, her lower lip twitching with the discomfort of such a motion. Immediately she began to bleed in front of him. “Hold out your hand vampire,” she commanded. “Watch yourself bleed on my behalf."

The cut was quick to heal, the remnants of her spell taking hold. The skin sealed itself and the area turned pink within a few minutes. Raising herself to sit Scarlett once again stowed the blade within her cloak. A hunger rose in her, first from her stomach and then into her throat. “You damned yourselves the day you showed the greatest disdain for humans. Open your mind. You suppress too much, filter your vision so much so that you notice nothing.”

[Korrye]

It was 3 am when she was first bothered to be woken, or more she woke herself due to her own fright. It was an uncommon thing for Desiree Poitiers to dream of nightmares that would scare her. Tonight was an exception. Sure she’d been out of her typical dormitory quarters for some time, and away from home for even longer. It wasn’t the displacement that had her shaken. It was more this past summer, and the peculiar looks that had been cast her way. Italian men were of a different mind when it came to acting on their sensual emotions. In her dreams she was swarmed, attacked by a man in a dark room, and held down shrieking. All the while he continued to murmur in some foreign tongue, perhaps a Sicilian dialect of Italian, trying to sooth her while he enjoyed himself, drawing upon the feelings her pheromones created within him.

She didn’t know quite what it was, but no matter what she did she couldn’t shake the fearful feeling after the dream was over. It seemed so apparent to her that something bad was going to happen. This tended to come about when she felt things were going too well for her. In many ways they were. She was in her senior year, attending one of the wizarding world’s most prestigious magical tournaments, hosted by a renowned institution which would surely gain her an asset or two when it came to talent or skill. Her family was in tact and loving. They were secure in their assets and contentedness. There were no ongoing conflicts, debates or even recent deaths. It all felt too good. Some days she couldn’t stop smiling. It had been maybe six months since the last time she’d even truly disagreed with someone. There would always be those people who were pessimists, possessing that horrible outlook that nothing would ever change, that they were doomed, that they would only die alone in a hole somewhere without a word. They were rather contagious in terms of mood but by the end of the day she was back in her bed feeling that joy that came from a good life. It just welled in her stomach and exploded into her mind making her smile and feel light or bubbly.

That morning in particular she woke, at three am to the Beauxbatons carriage, in the 7th year dorm area and her own sweaty self, twisted in sheets and her silk nightdress. She was a hot mess when she stumbled from bed to the bathroom, careful not to wake the other students in their beds. Her tall legs seemed to creak when she extended them. It seemed like a violent crack came from her knees when she stood straight. The aged wooden floors met her bare feet and creaked beneath her weight. Desiree took long swift steps to the lavatory, working the fluid nature of her half veela body.

After she’d splashed some water on her face and hung her head over the sink to think, the Beauxbatons student felt a little better as far as her emotions went. The dream was just so vivid. Did she really fear being raped? During her travels yes, she’d been approached but she’d also been able to ward off anyone from actually doing anything. The highest anything had escalated to was a slap, from her to the man, to keep him out of her face. Sometimes being what she was was difficult, it constituted a need to be careful and conscious of others intentions. It meant being intuitive and attentive more than normal. There were few moments when she could truly let her guard down and be herself around people because of the way she knew she could affect people. Without a doubt she was slightly more veela than human in the mix.

With the dream, it was becoming harder to let her guard down and enjoy herself even more so. It served as a constant reminder of a potentiality of something bad happening. Here she was in these wonderful surroundings still so scatterbrained. The dreams had started last week. Now she was jumpy, physically on edge due to her lack of sleep and runaway emotions. It wasn’t the greatest state but it was something she knew she had to manage. Everyone had their problems and it was time for her to get back to bed. Sleep was something she needed. With her face fresh Desire forcefully told herself she would be okay. She would.

But just telling herself this wasn’t enough.

Desiree lowered herself to the terracotta tiles of the bathroom floor. On her hands and knees she touched her forehead to the cool ground and sighed, holding her sweaty palms flat for a moment before clenching them into fists. “Mon Dieu, s’il vous plait,” she prayed, her voice a low husky whimper that carried across the walls. Hearing her own desperation in her voice, a plea for a deep dreamless sleep, made her gasp and stand, rushing herself back to her bed.

It was in all honesty her mother who had been the devout one in her family, fascinated with the rituals of French Roman Catholic services and the beautiful cathedrals of ancient times. While her father tended to be indifferent about it, the influence was without a doubt present within her. She wasn’t dependent but she was observant. Tonight was one of those days when she knew she needed something. The sound of her own voice in desperation was enough to shock some sense into her. Within ten minutes of being awake she was asleep again.

Maybe it was on God’s premise that she slept, perhaps physical exhaustion had finally carried her off. Yet she woke and it was hours later. In fact it was late. When Desiree slowly blinked past the gooey crusts of her eyes the room was empty, and bright. The curtains had been drawn back by the house-elves and the rest of the beds had been made. As she sat up and pushed her thick long dark brown hair from her face she realized she was the last of everyone to get up. Normally she was an early riser, today proved to be an exception. Rubbing at her eyes she smiled slightly at the warm feeling of her body being so content in itself, happy, well-rested yet starving. Licking her dry lips, she pulled herself from her bed and set about getting cleaned up and dressed to take on the day.

There were so few people here that she knew. The faces of her fellow students were somewhat familiar but the majority of her best friends and family were still in France. She truly felt isolated and on her own. The headmistress had mentioned the previous champion of Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour, and how she’d attended with her sister, how much company it had given her. Desiree had kindly put in that she was an only child, but the idea was a warm thought.

The students here tended to lend her their attention due to her lure. Such was being a half-veela. Constant stares, fleeting glances of affection, want; they were all old news to her. There was so much more to her than looks, which so few people seemed to expect which was worse. They anticipated a self-conscious insecure girl. The only reasons he lacked her full confidence was because of the constant defeat of knowing people didn’t pay attention to who she was. They anticipated blond stupidity from a girl who walked, talked and acted like a brunette Barbie. People hated her for it, they loved her for it and so few were in between perspectives it was painful.

It was hard, yes. Today a little more so. A few days ago she’d scrawled her name on a piece of parchment determined that her cause for being at a foreign school away from her friends would be the tournament, not merely the exchange opportunity. Now tonight the school champions would be announced and she was anxious, just like any other. There were surely more people who were more hopeful but the desire was there on her part. Just once she wanted something to fall her way.

Dressing and grooming herself took little time. Brushing her hair back and letting it fall in loose waves on her shoulders was simple enough. Pinning back a few strands from her face was enough to stylize it. Then for clothes she chose less traditional attire. Desiree had always toyed with her dress so much as she could manage. Today was a casual day and so she donned a black pencil skirt, similar to the standard dress in length. For top she wore a darker blue rounded collared shirt, thicker to ward off a chill, with the Beauxbatons crest on her chest. Lastly she wore the school’s traditional blazer loose over top. Wearing plain tights and black heels she was prepared for her day. Ensuring that her wand was up her sleeve, she headed for the dining hall across the grounds.

The room truly spoke for more than just the descriptions of it. The enchanted ceiling was something she admired, this morning particularly since it was bright and clear with few clouds in sight. Daylight always woke her up especially after a good sleep. The walk to the dining hall was short, one she did with a strong step. Her shoulders were back, as was proper posture and with it came a slight sashay of her hips. She avoided eye contact with most, heading into the dining hall to a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Well, not entirely. Yet her memory worked better with faces than names. Some of them were in her classes, others weren’t. Desiree took a seat at one of the benches in an area relatively clear of people. From there she began to pull some fruit onto her plate for breakfast, then a Belgian waffle to start. All she could think about was her hunger, as her stomach rolled and her desire boiled.

The face of one particular boy at the Slytherin table did catch her attention. He seemed truly endearing and confident. He was kind on every occasion she’d met him. He was interesting. A shyness struck her though. She didn’t want to risk ruining something like a potential friendship. If he wanted to be friends he would have to be the one to approach her. So she sat and settled for occasionally fleeting glances at him and that warm smile.