Sariah
Roleplayed by Creator of Destruction
Age: 34
Species: Loup Garou
Weapons: None
Abilities: None
Bio: I had a life once. It wasn't extravagant or exciting, but it was mine, and I loved every minute of it.
My husband was a man named Jean, a scientist from England who came to work on what was already being discussed as one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of our time. He left behind everything he had called home to help create us, to breathe life into the horror his peers had birthed. He was never high-ranking; Jean wasn't the type who cared about power. His job was merely to connect the missing pieces in our newly formed chains of DNA. It was important, yes, but nowhere near as glamorous as the tasks that his more famous superiors were performing. Still, he was happy that way. That was Jean.
But even a content man can be overwhelmed by curiosity. It was late, nearly midnight on a Saturday, when he convinced an exhausted security guard to let him into the restricted areas of the labs. The areas where they kept us. I don't know what drove him there on that fateful night 17 years ago; perhaps God intervened. Perhaps He sent Jean to me, knowing that only he could save me from the inner hell that came with the wretched and constant experimentation. Whether or not the Lord had a hand in our meeting, Jean and I fell in love that night. It was the first night I experienced as a fully complete Loup Garou, but I had never felt more human than when I was with him. After that, Jean snuck in almost every night. We would spend hours talking and laughing aboutr trivial topics. (We carefully avoided anything that would remind of us our surroundings, and the horrible fate of the creatures around us.) In the morning, we'd both have dark circles under our eyes, physical proof of our midnight encounters, but it was worth the risk to catch each other's eye in the lab the next day, offering up secretive smiles to hide the butterflies dancing in our chests. Besides, everyone at the laboratories was perpetually exhausted. We were just two more victims, over-used and over-worked.
Through me, Jean learned the true cruelty the experiments were forced to face: unrelenting tests, constant monitoring, and of course the various strains we endured as the scientists tried to discdover just what stresses triggered a transformation. They called it our "X-Factor," and it was their goal to find one for each and every one of us. To this day, I don't know what they intended to gain with the knowledge. I suppose it's no longer important.
Jean decided to break me out. We both knew the higher-ups weren't about to release any of us yet, or any time soon. We were their sample group, our sole purpose to be tested into exhaustion and misery until we were no longer deemed necessary to "further the discoveries of mankind," a phrase that still makes me feel ill to think about. We were just guinea pigs, abused for no other reason than to allow mankind to try their hand at playing God.
It was remarkably easy to escape. Perhaps it was because things were still in the early stages, but all it took was a white coat, a false ID badge, and a pair of glasses to slip me under the guards' radar and out the front door.
We went into hiding after that. Neither of us could afford to be caught by the government. We lived in the mountains, in a small but cozy cabin that kept us secluded from most of the outside world. We were careful. We made a few friends, kind, caring people that we felt we could trust. One of them was a doctor named Carol, a woman around my age who helped to deliver my first child. His name was Alexander, and for seven years, he was my world.
Jean and I raised Alex the best way we knew how. He was bright, a quick learner whose curiosity seemed boundless. The world was merely one large puzzle, just waiting for him to come along and unravel its complexities. We home schooled him, but I think he taught us more about life than we could ever have taught him in return.
Animals were his favorite past time. He would spend hours in the forests, studying the habits of different bugs, listening to bird calls, watching rabbits dig burrows, and especially communicating with wolves. Alex took after me that way; he could change to a wolf and back at will, and when he came home, he always had stories about how Blue had been driven out of a badger hole or how Taku had almost started a fight with Kiya before Kavi intervened. Kavi was one of two Alphas in Alex's little pack; her mate was called Fade, and when Alex spoke of them, his eyes glimmered with admiration. He was so proud of what he was.
Sometimes, when he told us about his adventures in the pack, I wondered if I was wrong about us. I had been raised Catholic, but when I couldn't abide with the strict rules of the faith, I branched off into my own spirituality, a nameless creature born of the groundings of my parents' religion and my own morals and values. Still, even in my more forgiving eyes, the Wolven were and affront to God. We were an abomination, a monstrous merging of man and beast that had never been intended for earth. Even Jean's determined objections to my self-loathing failed to persuade me that the Wolven could ever or should ever be accepted as one of the Lord's creations.
Alex, however, made me question myself. Was it possible that we were meant to be after all? Alex seemed so happy to be the same unnatural breed as his mother. I didn't know how to feel anymore.
When Alex was nearing his seventh birthday, I became pregnant again. Jean and I were ecstatic, and Alex was equally pleased to be gaining a sibling. As much as he loved his wolves, he needed human companionship that was his own age, and there weren't many children living so far from civilization. I told Carol immediately, and she gave me an ultrasound to check on the baby's growth. It was off the books, of course; she knew of our run from the government. I learned that my new child was a girl. I was going to name her Lauren.
Three and half months into my pregnancy, Alex turned seven. A week later, he was dead.
It was raining when they came. The sky was dark with storm clouds, so that even in mid-afternoon, the skyk was as black as night. The rest of my memories of that day come in bright flashes, random noises and images that swim in my mind when the camp is too loud for me to sleep.
I remember Alexander turning into a wolf; the shaggy white form was like a security blanket for him, something to keep him safe. The men who came for us that evening, though, didn't see a frightened child searching for bravery in the only way he knew how; they saw a threat. They shot him three times in the chest.
I remember screaming, so loud and so hard that I thought my throat would bleed out and my eardrums would burst. I thought I might die screaming, but that was fine. I would see my son again.
I remember wet fur in my lap, my skirt stained red with the blood of my child, and tears on my cheeks that burned my eyes.
I remember Jean reaching for the gun on hte mantel, yelling for me to get down, to run, to protect Lauren. I remember hearing the hitch of a sob in his voice.
I remember the thud when he hit the ground, the way the blood felt hot against my face, the way I screamed even louder as Jean landed in front of me, eyes open, ear missing, just a gaping hole seeping life.
I remember my teeth becoming fangs as someone shoved me to the floor, away from my husband and son. I remember being kicked in the ribs as my nails became claws. I remember the sting of the tranquilizer dart in my neck as the world went black.
When I awoke, I thought I'd gone blind. Then my eyes adjusted to the bright lights and shining white walls of the hospital room.
Thank God, I thought. Someone found me. I've been saved.
Then the doctor appeared over me. I recognized him. Everyone did. The man who created us, who set in motion the series of events that led to the destruction of my entire world.
Kaden Evans.
I think that was when I panicked. I began thrashing wildly, scratching, kicking, biting, anything to get away. For the first time in my life, I wanted to transform, to escape from the tormentors who had recaptured me.
In the ensuing frenzy, I fell off the gurney. I landed hard on my stomach. Someone shouted, and I was suddenly lifted and thrown back down onto a table, where leather restraints were strapped around my wrists and ankles.
Kaden appeared over me again, his face the twisted mask of a jack-o-lantern, looming from a darkened porch in the dead of night, when all the demons in the world seemed to come out to play, and people disappeared without a trace. "Shhh," he whispered. "This won't hurt a bit." Then a mask was pressed to my face, and the world fell away once more.
Next time, I came to in the camp. Though no one has told me, I've realized that Lauren is also gone. I don't know if physical trauma killed her, or if she was taken to feed yet another sick game, but it doesn't matter. Either way, another baby was stolen from me.
I'm not sure why the Lord is testing us this way. Maybe we are meant to be an example, a message to humanity not to tamper with life and step into His domain. My faith is all I have now, but even that seems to be falling apart. I am just a face. Perhaps this is just a dream.
Dear Lord, I want to wake up.
Roleplayed by Creator of Destruction
Age: 34
Species: Loup Garou
Weapons: None
Abilities: None
Bio: I had a life once. It wasn't extravagant or exciting, but it was mine, and I loved every minute of it.
My husband was a man named Jean, a scientist from England who came to work on what was already being discussed as one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of our time. He left behind everything he had called home to help create us, to breathe life into the horror his peers had birthed. He was never high-ranking; Jean wasn't the type who cared about power. His job was merely to connect the missing pieces in our newly formed chains of DNA. It was important, yes, but nowhere near as glamorous as the tasks that his more famous superiors were performing. Still, he was happy that way. That was Jean.
But even a content man can be overwhelmed by curiosity. It was late, nearly midnight on a Saturday, when he convinced an exhausted security guard to let him into the restricted areas of the labs. The areas where they kept us. I don't know what drove him there on that fateful night 17 years ago; perhaps God intervened. Perhaps He sent Jean to me, knowing that only he could save me from the inner hell that came with the wretched and constant experimentation. Whether or not the Lord had a hand in our meeting, Jean and I fell in love that night. It was the first night I experienced as a fully complete Loup Garou, but I had never felt more human than when I was with him. After that, Jean snuck in almost every night. We would spend hours talking and laughing aboutr trivial topics. (We carefully avoided anything that would remind of us our surroundings, and the horrible fate of the creatures around us.) In the morning, we'd both have dark circles under our eyes, physical proof of our midnight encounters, but it was worth the risk to catch each other's eye in the lab the next day, offering up secretive smiles to hide the butterflies dancing in our chests. Besides, everyone at the laboratories was perpetually exhausted. We were just two more victims, over-used and over-worked.
Through me, Jean learned the true cruelty the experiments were forced to face: unrelenting tests, constant monitoring, and of course the various strains we endured as the scientists tried to discdover just what stresses triggered a transformation. They called it our "X-Factor," and it was their goal to find one for each and every one of us. To this day, I don't know what they intended to gain with the knowledge. I suppose it's no longer important.
Jean decided to break me out. We both knew the higher-ups weren't about to release any of us yet, or any time soon. We were their sample group, our sole purpose to be tested into exhaustion and misery until we were no longer deemed necessary to "further the discoveries of mankind," a phrase that still makes me feel ill to think about. We were just guinea pigs, abused for no other reason than to allow mankind to try their hand at playing God.
It was remarkably easy to escape. Perhaps it was because things were still in the early stages, but all it took was a white coat, a false ID badge, and a pair of glasses to slip me under the guards' radar and out the front door.
We went into hiding after that. Neither of us could afford to be caught by the government. We lived in the mountains, in a small but cozy cabin that kept us secluded from most of the outside world. We were careful. We made a few friends, kind, caring people that we felt we could trust. One of them was a doctor named Carol, a woman around my age who helped to deliver my first child. His name was Alexander, and for seven years, he was my world.
Jean and I raised Alex the best way we knew how. He was bright, a quick learner whose curiosity seemed boundless. The world was merely one large puzzle, just waiting for him to come along and unravel its complexities. We home schooled him, but I think he taught us more about life than we could ever have taught him in return.
Animals were his favorite past time. He would spend hours in the forests, studying the habits of different bugs, listening to bird calls, watching rabbits dig burrows, and especially communicating with wolves. Alex took after me that way; he could change to a wolf and back at will, and when he came home, he always had stories about how Blue had been driven out of a badger hole or how Taku had almost started a fight with Kiya before Kavi intervened. Kavi was one of two Alphas in Alex's little pack; her mate was called Fade, and when Alex spoke of them, his eyes glimmered with admiration. He was so proud of what he was.
Sometimes, when he told us about his adventures in the pack, I wondered if I was wrong about us. I had been raised Catholic, but when I couldn't abide with the strict rules of the faith, I branched off into my own spirituality, a nameless creature born of the groundings of my parents' religion and my own morals and values. Still, even in my more forgiving eyes, the Wolven were and affront to God. We were an abomination, a monstrous merging of man and beast that had never been intended for earth. Even Jean's determined objections to my self-loathing failed to persuade me that the Wolven could ever or should ever be accepted as one of the Lord's creations.
Alex, however, made me question myself. Was it possible that we were meant to be after all? Alex seemed so happy to be the same unnatural breed as his mother. I didn't know how to feel anymore.
When Alex was nearing his seventh birthday, I became pregnant again. Jean and I were ecstatic, and Alex was equally pleased to be gaining a sibling. As much as he loved his wolves, he needed human companionship that was his own age, and there weren't many children living so far from civilization. I told Carol immediately, and she gave me an ultrasound to check on the baby's growth. It was off the books, of course; she knew of our run from the government. I learned that my new child was a girl. I was going to name her Lauren.
Three and half months into my pregnancy, Alex turned seven. A week later, he was dead.
It was raining when they came. The sky was dark with storm clouds, so that even in mid-afternoon, the skyk was as black as night. The rest of my memories of that day come in bright flashes, random noises and images that swim in my mind when the camp is too loud for me to sleep.
I remember Alexander turning into a wolf; the shaggy white form was like a security blanket for him, something to keep him safe. The men who came for us that evening, though, didn't see a frightened child searching for bravery in the only way he knew how; they saw a threat. They shot him three times in the chest.
I remember screaming, so loud and so hard that I thought my throat would bleed out and my eardrums would burst. I thought I might die screaming, but that was fine. I would see my son again.
I remember wet fur in my lap, my skirt stained red with the blood of my child, and tears on my cheeks that burned my eyes.
I remember Jean reaching for the gun on hte mantel, yelling for me to get down, to run, to protect Lauren. I remember hearing the hitch of a sob in his voice.
I remember the thud when he hit the ground, the way the blood felt hot against my face, the way I screamed even louder as Jean landed in front of me, eyes open, ear missing, just a gaping hole seeping life.
I remember my teeth becoming fangs as someone shoved me to the floor, away from my husband and son. I remember being kicked in the ribs as my nails became claws. I remember the sting of the tranquilizer dart in my neck as the world went black.
When I awoke, I thought I'd gone blind. Then my eyes adjusted to the bright lights and shining white walls of the hospital room.
Thank God, I thought. Someone found me. I've been saved.
Then the doctor appeared over me. I recognized him. Everyone did. The man who created us, who set in motion the series of events that led to the destruction of my entire world.
Kaden Evans.
I think that was when I panicked. I began thrashing wildly, scratching, kicking, biting, anything to get away. For the first time in my life, I wanted to transform, to escape from the tormentors who had recaptured me.
In the ensuing frenzy, I fell off the gurney. I landed hard on my stomach. Someone shouted, and I was suddenly lifted and thrown back down onto a table, where leather restraints were strapped around my wrists and ankles.
Kaden appeared over me again, his face the twisted mask of a jack-o-lantern, looming from a darkened porch in the dead of night, when all the demons in the world seemed to come out to play, and people disappeared without a trace. "Shhh," he whispered. "This won't hurt a bit." Then a mask was pressed to my face, and the world fell away once more.
Next time, I came to in the camp. Though no one has told me, I've realized that Lauren is also gone. I don't know if physical trauma killed her, or if she was taken to feed yet another sick game, but it doesn't matter. Either way, another baby was stolen from me.
I'm not sure why the Lord is testing us this way. Maybe we are meant to be an example, a message to humanity not to tamper with life and step into His domain. My faith is all I have now, but even that seems to be falling apart. I am just a face. Perhaps this is just a dream.
Dear Lord, I want to wake up.
