Welcome to Gaia! ::

As you can see above, I have created some examples to show you the kind of pet you will be receiving should you win one of the three Daemons up for grabs in these events. Here, I have shown you examples of feline, canine and rodent Daemons, all with the white ribbon that is a mandatory requirement for the pets that are won from this event!

I REPEAT, THESE ARE NOT THE DAEMONS YOU WILL BE WINNING!!!

The Daemons you will be winning will be Unique to you!! These are JUST examples of the art you will be getting ^^ For more examples, simply visit the main Souls Manifest thread and have a look at the Owners List ^^

If you are still interested in how to win such a Daemon, please, read on to see the Contest details.



RP Contest - Part 1

To be in with a chance at participating, all interested parties need to Register their potential character. This is very very simple!

Below, there is a form. This form needs to be filled out, and held on to tightly, as it is your ticket into this event. You must fill out the details with the Character you are creating to represent YOU in this world of Daemons. It can be you, with all the details filled out exactly as you are, from name to personality, or, alternatively, you can create a completely new character, the polar opposite of yourself, to stand in your place. Whatever you decide, the resulting Daemon will be 100% yours, but will follow the personality traits you have set down within the form. The more thorough you are with the form, the better able I will be in the long run to produce for you the Daemon you want.

To Register, you must wait for my big ol' 'GO GO GO!!' This will signify that you have 48 HOURS to post your forms and your responses in thread. Forms posted on the minute of the hours' end WILL NOT be accepted, so, make sure you get your forms in in plenty of time!

I R REGISTAR
Username : Navywolf
Time Zone : PST (USA West Coast, yo!)
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Character Info
Name : Caitlin O’Reily
Age : 15
Gender : Female
Appearance : Caitlin—or Cait (Kate), as her friends call her—is a girl of median build. She is not too skinny, but not overweight either; some might go so far as to call her athletic. She is about 5’4” and very fair-skinned with a slight tan on the tops of her arms and legs. Her hair is darker dirty blonde, almost a golden-brown color, and straight but slightly wavy at the bottom, with grown-out bangs. Her mother claims that her eyes are blue, but many other opinions have been voiced: blue, green, and gray are the colors her eyes sometimes appear. One companion even claimed she had golden spots around her pupils. Her eyes are a bit smaller than normal, and her neck longer, but overall she is a rather pretty girl. When she speaks, her accent is clearly what our world would label as Irish.

As for dress, Cait prefers simple, casual wear that she can work in. Comfortable pants and tops are staples in her scant wardrobe, though she will put up with the occasional skirt if needed. Dresses, however, are for only the most formal of occasions, and once she has one on she tends to like it. Just about any color goes except for pink, with brighter tones being the favorite. Seeing as her family is not that wealthy, however, she is willing to wear whatever fits and looks decent.

Personality : Caitlin has a rather varying personality; she really isn’t too anything. First off, it adjusts to many situations. If she’s in a room filled with adult strangers, she will act very shy, trying not to talk to anyone. Any conversations she has with the adults will lead to her speaking very formally and in a mature fashion that belies her age. If with her friends, however, she can become a completely different person. She will be as hyper and excitable as you can imagine, thinking up all sorts of jokes and funny things to say. She might even feel the need to make a little mischief, if with companions. But when alone, she has no drive to do so. She can judge people’s moods by their body language well (she thinks she can read body language better than a good portion of the population), which leads to some frustration when others either cannot do the same, or do not respect hers. Often she will make an outburst to a friend that leads to them leaving her alone for the rest of the day, and leave her wondering why she cannot get angry too. She can let her emotions bottle up inside until finally they explode out in a violent rant or other outburst.

At different times, Cait can be both sure of herself and doubtful; carefree or a worrier. Large groups make her uneasy; she prefers smaller ones of a few close friends. Some time alone to do what she likes is appreciated and almost required, but a prolonged amount of time without contact makes her unhappy. If she is upset or with a good friend, she can rant about her feelings, but she will not give them up to just anyone who asks how she is; emotional privacy is important to her. She can be willing to listen to her friends if they need it, but if all they ever do is talk about themselves, she can get rather cranky. However, she has a very sensitive heart, and even some sad things that don’t involve her can make her cry.

Caitlin does not like loud noises or talking; many times those listening to her tell her to speak up. When giving presentations or talking about a passion of hers, however, she has a strong voice. With people she doesn’t know well, she will be kinder and more censored; with her closest friends, however, anything goes, and she isn’t afraid to speak the truth—most times. She tends to work on things a lot at first due to her sudden spark of inspiration, then fizzle out after a while, but she eventually gets the important projects done on time.

Keywords [5 Max]: caring, intelligent, mood-savvy, multi-faceted, sensitive

History : Caitlin’s was never a truly rich family. She was born the youngest of three children: a sister named Meghan and oldest brother named Riam. Her mother, Aislin, ran a sewing business, while her father William was a trader. Not one of those big fancy airship merchants, mind you. His transport vehicle was a large wagon, drawn by two older, but well-trained and well-kept horses. His route went through some of the more rural areas of Eurlak, far from the capital of the region, trading what he had for things for his family. Caitlin would help with the horses, and developed a love for the hooved creatures. They lived in a nice, larger town relatively peacefully for a long while—at least, until Cait was fourteen.

One night, her brother went out to play with his friends. An hour later, the neighbors came to get her parents. She knew something was amiss when they left without a word to her or her sister. The next time she saw them, they were carrying her unconscious brother home. Fallen out of a tree, they said. For three days the family sat by his bed, taking care of him as best they could. They could do nothing more; the nearest doctor was many miles away. At last, on the morning of the third day, Riam died with his family around him.

Caitlin was in shock; they all were. For days afterwards she would barely come out of her room, only entering the real world to eat and do her chores. Otherwise, she would stay in. After a while, when she seemed all right but continued to remain inside her own world, her parents decided something was wrong. So they packed up their belongings and moved to another town, hoping that Cait would get better because of this change of scenery. On the way, she finally told her parents that the reason why she would spend so much time alone was because she felt something else, a strange presence, in her room and mind with her. They instantly knew that it was the beginnings of her daemon, and they changed their route to the largest city in the world, and the home of the first college for those with manifesting daemons: Jaradin. The journey, taken via horse-drawn wagon and sprinkled with trading stops along the way, took a full year to make. The family decided to live in a smaller trading town outside of Jaradin. Her mother managed to get a job at a tailoring shop in the main city, and her father a stall in the marketplace to trade his items, though he continued to trade among the smaller towns throughout Eurlak. Though they live outside Jaradin, Caitlin goes to school there, and her parents and sister have become better and better off than they were a year ago.

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I R REGISTAR
Username : Aurrie Beaues
Time Zone : CST
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Character Info
Name : Constance "Connie" Lockwood
Age : Fourteen
Gender : Male
Appearance : Constance is a spry, fleet footed boy of a mere fourteen, and he doesn't look a day older. The scrappy fellow has always been on the short side, measuring a full 5'0" and has often felt the need to make up for his lack in size with spunk. His hair is a dusty brown and his eyes are hazel, but his complexion, despite hours in the sun, never seems to darken.

He lets his hair grow, but never past his chin, and currently it is trimmed neatly about his ears. His mother wouldn't dare let him off to school looking a mess!

His family was rather well off, so his clothing was usually decent. He was far from spoiled, but he dressed well to show off what wealth was left in the family. He usually dons a crimson hued scarf and a peasant cap, which is gray. His clothing consists of a worn, old, brown tunic that he is quite fond of, a white, long sleeved undershirt, and a new pair of khaki pants that he is partial to. His feet are usually clad in a worn in, but nice pair of leather shoes.

There is a distinct limp in his gait, as he had suffered a terrible break to his leg. It has, more or less, healed up. It still plagues him from time to time, especially in cold weather, but he can get around well enough. Any jibes at how he walks and he is sure to give anyone near a piece of his mind.
Personality : Constance, or Connie as his mother and nanny have nicknamed him affectionately, is a highly intelligent and active youngster with an imagination that could possibly rival some of the greatest artists of his time. Despite this, he is easily bored and requires a great deal of individual attention and a variety of spice in his life to keep him content. If left to his own devices, it isn't uncommon for him to become destructive to his environment and to himself. He has a habit of getting into anything and everything, and his curiosity knows no bounds.

The boy is known for his fiery temper, when angered, and stupidity generally angers him. This plays just a small part in his life and, although blunt to the point of sounding rude and disrespectful, he means well and has a heart of gold.

He has a certain fondness for music and possesses a rather beautiful voice, and he is hardly shy about letting it be heard. In fact, most speculate the boy talks as much as he does merely to hear himself speak. He is noisy, that is certain, but is generally happy most of his time and loves to socialize. When in good spirits, he comes off as cheerful and almost happy-go-lucky.

That is, unless he views someone as an intruder. If threatened, he is known for hurling insults and wild accusations, but most of his threats and hurtful words are just that, words. He fleeing from an actual, physical fight isn't unheard of.

Despite his boldness and sharp tongue, he has one true fear and does his best to hide it from the other students. At the first sign of a heavy storm, he seems to disappear.
Keywords [5 Max]: Intelligent, Bores Easily, Hard Headed, Social, Creative

History : Connie's beginnings were what one might consider modest, or at least modest for the class he was born into.

Middle, to be precise.

He was hardly what one could consider bad off. He had three meals a day, plenty of clean clothing, an opportunity for a formal education, and really could never want for anything.

Except for attention.

Both his parents worked, and worked hard. His mother served those of a class higher than themselves, cooking and cleaning to provide them with comfort and delightful homes. It wasn't much, but paid well. She often wasn't at her own home to do the same tasks, but she wanted her son to be well off.

His father worked as an academic professor and was highly esteemed. He taught classes at a nearby college, or at least that was what Constance had come to understand. What he taught, exactly, was a mystery to the boy and his father was hardly around enough to explain it to him. Something about the stars, he thought, and knew plenty of mathematics were involved.

The boy devoured his schooling lessons, though it was always little known, practically useless information that stuck in his mind, and he spent much of his time with a variety of hobbies that included cooking, painting, reading, and a variety of other things. He had no siblings and friends were few and far between, what with just how active he was. But it was companionship and attention that he craved more than anything.

A trip to the local park was a rare, but much loved treat. To romp with other children his age, to boss them about, to make up fantasy games, it was all like nourishment to his active mind and equally active body.

Despite his loneliness, things seem perfect. He wished he could see his proud, hard working parents more often; yet he knew very well that their jobs required their undivided attention and that they were working so hard for his benefit, so he could hardly bring himself to complain.

It was not long after his fourteenth birthday that all of their lives were turned upside down by a mere stroke of bad luck.

The weather had been rather decent that summer, not too hot, yet far from chilly. Rain was common, but it was a particular squall that struck mid summer that changed things.

Constance had been home alone that night; both his parents had worked late and his usual caretaker, a well meaning nanny, was dreadfully ill. It was decided that he was old enough to fend for himself, at least for a little while. The howling winds outside of their decently sized home caused the boy to shudder and grow antsy. It wasn't long into the storm that the howling winds took on an odd tone, a roaring he had never heard before in his life.

In a panic, he hurried to the basement. Though he had no idea what it was heading towards him, which was obvious due to the increase in volume, he knew well enough that he had to find a safe place to hide.

He slipped inside an old barrel that had been the focal point of many childhood games and rode out the tornado that shredded his home apart. All was destroyed, and Constance was fortunate to have survived. The floor above had vanished, but the tornado moved quickly and had been losing steam once it reached the Lockwood home.

Several other houses had been destroyed in the area, and several neighbors had died.

Fortunately, he survived.

He was badly shaken, his leg was broken, but he alive.

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The Prompt: Something has happened. Something so tragic, you just can't stop yourself crying. Things were so perfect, and now... Now they are ruined. You know that this time shouldn't be so disheartening, but you just can't help but feel a little resentful that the time has come that you are starting to notice that little presence your parents have told you about. You see their Daemons, and have always wondered when yours would manifest.

You didn't think it would be like this!

Describe to me the incident that occurred to make your Daemon manifest. Talk of the feelings that are swirling through you to make your Daemon appear and wish to comfort you. How do you feel toward this strange mixing of creatures? What do they say that makes you feel better? Just RP the whole situation, from the tragic incident to the manifestation.
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"Quit y'snivel'n, boy, I'll be right as rain soon, ye'll see."

The young woman that lived with the Lockwood's and served as a nanny for Constance was a pitiful sight. She obviously didn't feel well, she looked incredibly pale and her eyes were red. Her nose was running and her throat was sore.

Her voice was a forced, hoarse whisper.

If it hadn't been for just how sick she was, the small, mousy boy would of wrapped his arms about her neck, as he always did, in a tight hug. She was the one who was there and, while not his biological mother, she was more like a mom than any other being on the planet.

To see her ill was nerve wracking and what bothered him even more was that he would be home alone.

"I'm not crying, Miss Flossy, I just don't like you being ill. You aren't supposed to be, 'cos you're always well. Anyways, you ought to get rest. I can look after myself til' Mother and Father get home. That is what they said, isn't it?"

"It is, indeed. Y'growin' fast. T'was like yesterday you was a wailin' little mite!"

Flossy refrained from leaning down and kissing the top of the little roughian's head, as was almost custom for the motherly lady. Instead, she offered him a weak smile and a slight nod.

"So, y' take care an' yer folks'll be back afor long. I'll be back when this passes." Her words were shaky as she slipped from the heavy, oak door of the home. Her daemon, a small breed of mutt, tagged along quietly, full of pity for his sickly human.

"Bye, Miss Flossy! You take care of yourself!" The small boy gave an equally small wave and hid his worry with a broad grin. He'd be sure to slip away from home to bring her some fresh teas, or something, on the morrow.

The boy closed the heavy door behind the nanny and leaned his back against it, sighing slightly. He was alone in their rather large, well kept home. There wasn't much do do. There was also a slight nagging at the back of his mind.

A storm was rolling in. He could see it in the darkening, pregnant clouds that hung low in the sky, threatening to burst and spill fresh rain showers. He usually liked the rain, but the thought of being home alone was already playing on his nerves

"Heheh...heh, well, guess I could try 'n paint something. That's always good for a rainy night. Or read..." He could feel a certain surge of creativity as he peered out through the windows, watching as the first heavy raindrop splattered against the glass. A mischievous grin slid across his lips and he made his way towards the room in their home that his mother and father donated to he and his studies. Plenty of supplies were shoved away, there, and just as he managed to set up a fresh canvas and ready his paints, a strange noise caught his attention.

It was something of the likes he had never heard before.

Almost like a roaring, but what caused it? He had little to no idea, but the hairs on the back of his neck bristled and a nagging voice in the back of his mind hinted at something most unfortunate.

Without a second thought, he charged from the room and tore down the hallway at an alarming rate. A small, old staircase led to the basement, an area of the house he had often hid in when he wanted time alone or to create "adventures" to act out.

It was his safe place, and little did he know just how safe it would be.

He darted between boxes and barrels, until he found a particular one that had served as his "club house" some times, his "airship" at others, and even still, his "castle."

As he slipped inside, the roaring grew louder. Items around him rattled, fell, and shattered. His eyes bugged wide with fear and he curled into a fetal position in the bottom of the barrel.

"Mamma! Dad! Miss Flossy?" His voice was pitiful and almost inaudible as he shook with terror. The floor over his head looked as though it were peeling back...

And then he lost consciousness. A world of darkness enveloped him and swallowed him whole.

Sobbing met his hears at first. His mother? He was sure he recognized her voice, even if it was wracked with sobs. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her everything was fine.

He was dead, wasn't he?

His senses were swimming and he could hardly make head or tails of just what was happening to him.

Then he felt it, a searing pain running through his side and one of his legs.

He parted his eyes slowly and grimaced. It felt as though he was engulfed in fire and bright light was above him. After several tense moments, he could see just what was going on.

Rubble was everywhere.

The house was gone.

The basement in which he had been hiding was open to the world and it's contents were spewed about. The barrel Constance had taken to for safety was shattered around him and his leg.

Oh.

It was covered in blood. His entire frame was scuffed up, but his leg was snapped and he couldn't move it. His mother was sobbing soundly and his father stood over her bent frame as she held her son tightly. Their daemons, though silent, were obviously just as distressed as their humans.

He sank back into darkness yet again...

It wasn't until the next day that Constance found himself awake again, and this time he was alert and knew exactly what was going on. He and his family were boarded up in a neighbor's house that was still standing. His leg was casted in an attempt to get it to set correctly. He also ached all over.

He sobbed nearly all night. The physical pain and mental exhaustion from his experience had been taxing enough to practically break the boy. Moonlight filtered through the window of the room he had been given and, although he had always found moonlight calming, he still sobbed quietly to himself.

He had almost died. They had lost everything. Several others weren't as lucky and were crushed to death or carried off some great distances. He wasn't even sure exactly what had happened and the terrifying memories of the night before flooded back to him in bits and pieces.

"Hush, dear... Hush. Everything will be fine."

He sniveled soundly and wiped his arm across his red, tear streaked face. There was a voice? He couldn't recognize it, as it sounded completely different from the individuals that he knew. Yet it was distinctly female.

"Don't you worry your head. Try and get some sleep. Things will be better, you'll see." The voice repeated and he seemed to get a glimpse of something he couldn't quite explain. Feathers were distinct, ranging from vibrant reds, blues, and golds to drab grays and whites. Fur. A long neck. Hooves.

He couldn't explain it, exactly, but it reminded him of the daemons at his parents sides.

"Are you... My daemon?" His voice was hoarse, weaker than he had imagined he would of sounded.

"Yes... And I am here for you, now. You won't be alone ever. I'll always be right at your side."

An immense wave of relief washed over the terrified Constance and he found his eyelids drooping heavily. The protection that the comforting voice offered was enough to warm his heart and ease his mind for the time being. At least enough for him to get some decent rest.

He wouldn't be alone, anymore...

"Rest well, Constance."