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 Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 7:24 pm
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 12:30 am
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 12:26 am
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Aysel Vartanian[Eye-sell Vart-an-ee-an] "With every sun that sets I am feeling more
Like a stranger on a foreign shore
With an eroding beach disappearing from underneath"Name: Aysel Vartanian
Age: 19
17 in 1410
Alliance: Scientist
Panymese
Occupying region: Imisus
Personality: Antisocial, tired, observant. Doleful eyes. Her encounters with death have caused her to grow curious about it; curiosity has the capacity to bring her back to some sense of normalcy. Though she is nearing adulthood by any standard, she can be quite childish and immature. (Though that childish enthusiasm still exists too!) She's also fairly gullible. Due to her recent losses, she's become rather skittish and anxious. She's distrustful of most people and some of her usual curiosity's died out, though it's easy to rekindle.
Appearance:
Aysel has a tint of Uquese within her; her skin is tinted a shade darker than the average Panymese. Her dark, oak wood eyes have retained a smoother shape and tilt, a nod again to her ancestry. She cut a thin, elegant figure at five feet, five inches. Depending on the day, her long black hair may or may not be tangled, but if she has brushed recently, it falls in gentle curls. Nearly always she used to be barefoot, for she once owned only one pair of shoes, and those were saved for special occasions, but since moving to Shyregoed, she's acquired a pair of big black boots to keep warm. The entirety of her wardrobe was crafted by her aunt, and so she only owns clothes made of the cloth her aunt can afford. This often leads to her owning outfits in the style of the elite, but made of the lesser materials. (These sorts of styles, the type seen in printed paper dolls, except rougher, in duller colors, and without lace or hats. A simpler trim often replaced lace.) No matter the style, she always wears a dress. That was all she had and all she wanted.
[x] [x] [x] [x]
History:
Aysel is a result of her circumstances. She grew up in the swampy areas of Imisus, raised within a cradle of superstition and close family ties; there were few strange branches in her enormous family tree. Though there were the occasional rebels, much of this family lived together as a clan, creating their own, private community. Normally, the Vartanians who had reached adulthood would go out into the world to sate their desire for discovery and would return once they had decided on a spouse and were ready to settle down. Because of this, Aysel never saw the vivacious energies in the young adults; all she knew was the innocent insanity of childhood and the quiet excitement of what once was within the adults.
As her mind matured, she pondered the mystery of children and adults, but before she could form a solid opinion beyond 'I don't wanna grow up!', two calamities were thrust upon her. Right as she prepared to launch forward into the confusion of puberty, the Plague hit. One by one, she saw the precious leaves of her family tree fall. The healthy members of her family split, half going to the bigger cities to look for a cure and the rest remaining to take care of the sickly. This went on for several years. The sick died, more healthy people fell victim, and the searchers who returned at last carried nothing but bad news. Already, most of the grandparents had fallen; several of the children (especially the small ones) had died faster still; and scattered relatives, distant, near, and in between, had either succumbed to the disease or still suffered under it. Aysel's father was one of those who had succumbed.
Eventually, painfully, when all the seekers had returned empty-handed, the decision was made to scatter; the clan could stay in their homeland no longer; perhaps the outside would be better. A diaspora had become necessary. The family had to split themselves into smaller groups, each bound for a different region within Panymium. If a cure was discovered in one place, perhaps, in this way, they could get it to the others more easily.
Aysel, her aunt (on the mother's side), two uncles (one from each parent), a young set of cousins, and her sick mother were sent to Shyregoed. They got a cabin just big enough to house them all a fair ways away from any serious town so the uncles could learn the ways of the mountain like they had known those of the marshes. The aunt stayed home much of the time to tend to Aysel's mother, watch the kids, sow, and generally take care of the house. Aside from chores, which did tend to eat much of her time, Aysel was left to grow on her own.
The Family Tree
Roommates: Sevda, Semiha, Lucius, Yosif, Regina, Mala, Pomona, Zhen, Matteo.
Sev: 32, Sem: 35, Lu: 31, Yo: 27, Re: 5, Ma: 10, Po: 4, Zh: 13, Ma: 7
Since becoming a Grimm...
Aysel began to learn a bit about the factions and Plagues and being a Grimm, encountering a few of her fellows. She diligently watched over her Plague, until two terrible events coincided: Her mother's death, making her an effective orphan, and her family's discovery of her Plague notes. Aysel and her family were not on the best of terms as it was, and the mixture of grief and argument surrounding her Plague caused her to choose to take Ilkin and run away with a Scientist she had met earlier.
The pair left Shyregoad and went to Montburg in Imisus. There, Aysel learned the basics of Scientist tenet and learned. She was assigned the duty of making sure Scientist regulation was followed, which unfortunately resulted in her discovering the darker sides of some of her scientist friends. The betrayal was compounded by the death of a Plagued Elias and the deaths she witnessed at the Be Still event.
She has since gone to Gadu. |
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 12:33 am
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Ilkin Vartanian[Ill-kin Vart-an-ee-an] "Nicest, sweetest,
upmost in everything
So charming, very charming
Well read, can play the fool, no one's ill at ease
and put their deepest swiss bank trust in you
No one saw it coming" Personality: As long as things go his way, he is very courteous and chivalrous; compliments fall frequently from his lips. However, if things start going awry, he is quick to shift the blame and play the simpleton. He is also very greedy and has an awful tendency to hoard things, especially items of worth and luxury.
Item History:
In life, he was a simple, fleet-footed mountain rabbit who faced the average challenges: He struggled constantly to find food, water, and mates, and he was nearly always on the run from predators. The latter was what did him in: A bad jump had caught him in a bear trap, that monster of metal created by the forest's master hunters: Humans. Terrified instantaneously, he struggled and struggled, but to no avail. Fur was peeled from skin and skin torn from flesh. The sharp teeth of the trap chewed through the sinews of his body straight to the bone. Eventually, he had lost too much energy and too much blood; he had to rest.
When he awoke, he knew he had only two choices: Either chew off his own leg, or go with the human whenever it may come. Though nearby predators salivated with the desire to devour him, the stench of human kept him safe in the meantime before the human's arrival. He decided amputation was the lesser of the two evils, for then he still had a chance of living. He began to chew. The lack of flesh around his bone necessitated only chewing through one layer, the bone, but nevertheless, the pain of the process was excruciating. Survival instincts were all that allowed him to continue living. Somehow, he made it.
Abandoning his lost leg and completely spent, he pulled himself towards a comfy, damp spot and passed out for the last time. He was too exhausted, too lacking. His blood ran when he could not; it ran and ran until it ran out. Hardly more than a mere minute passed when the disease infected him, claimed him. Naturally, the corpse was left undisturbed by all who may have previously been considering him dinner. Not even the starving were willing to take a meal so tainted.
Aysel has always enjoyed walks. She likes to walk around and around, often going a distance, but then always turns around. Maybe one day she won't stop. On one of these walks, she came across a scent most foul and familiar, and recognized it instantly: death and rot. Always interested in the chance to observe decay, she grabbed a stick and followed her nose to the rabbit. Again. And again. Over a period of weeks, changes were duly noted. She committed herself to deciphering this corpse's difference.
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 12:35 am
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 12:36 am
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History"I'm not always like this
It's something, I've become
A terrible weakness
In my nature, in my blood"RP Prompt Prompt #: RABBIT #2. Your race is infamous for the Infitialis' ability to spread the Black Plague amongst the population. Of course, you've never encountered anyone with the Black Plague face to face, let alone someone at the brink of death from it... how do you react?
Prompt:
"Come," Aysel beckoned. Less than a week had past since Ilkin had transformed, and the tiny seed of hope had grown in her heart that maybe he could help her. This night was clear; the stars shone and glimmered in the fashion of a feverish sweat. The full moon tacked itself onto the sky in a bloated pallor. The creatures of the day slept, and silent wings skimmed the sky. The two shadowy figures made their way to the cabin.
Because of the sickness, Aysel's mother was the only person with a room all to herself. The decor was as varied as that of a nun's quarters: A breathing bed in one corner with a sickly bucket and tired night table next to it and a stand for clothes and personal belongings across the room. The bed was right up to the window, and if one was careful, they could slip into the room without disturbing its occupant. Aysel knew. She had tested it. And it was through this route that Keeper and Plague slipped inside undetected.
Immediately, Aysel went to side of that lump under the covers. "Mother..." she whispered, taking the blackened hand. Aysel was the only person in the house unafraid to touch Mother. (Everyone called her that; she was the oldest in her family unit and acted the part to everyone, even to her siblings as a child.) Perhaps it was because Aysel did not see the disfigurements caused by the sickness, but simply the slowly shriveling soul inside. Distress clear within her, she looked to Ilkin to see if he could do anything. But Ilkin was unseeing.
He gazed upon the leftovers of a body ravaged by Plague, struck by morbid fascination. Once upon a time, this woman had been pretty, but disease had turned her grotesque. Her arms and surely her legs resembled charred sticks, mere rotten skin and bone. Inability to keep anything down forced her body to devour itself for sustenance; hardly an ounce of viable muscle or fat remained. Blue veins traced through her pale face. The scent of bloodied sick came from the bucket on the table; next to it a glass of water.
Roused by the touch of her daughter, Mother opened her eyes, glassy and opaque, and sent a fragile smile Aysel's way. "Sevda..." she said cheerfully, naming her sister, the aunt who lived with them. Aysel's attention immediately snapped back to Mother. "Don't worry little Sevda, dinner will be ready soon." She patted Aysel's arm and turned her gaze to the ceiling, still smiling. "Can you do anything to help her?" whispered Aysel to Ilkin.
Ilkin's abilities as of yet were relatively untapped, but he still knew that he could do nothing here. He did not cure; he caused. He shook his head. It shocked him, to say the least, to know that he could do this to a person, and in a way, it was empowering. His past life had left him all but defenseless, but now he topped the food chain. Nothing could prey upon him. If anything stood in his way, he could finally do something about it. "I am sorry about your mother's fate... But I cannot."
"Then go," Aysel commanded, giving attention back to her mother, who was mumbling incomprehensible things.
Ilkin obeyed, going to the window and slipping outside. He smiled as he made his escape. |
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 12:37 am
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Posted: Thu May 20, 2010 11:31 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 11:48 pm
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DeComposition Notes
The Rabbit
13/o5/1o: Discovered a white rabbit. Appears freshly dead. The left front leg has been torn away; it lies a few feet away. The body's stiff already. There's blood around its mouth and some on its front paws. It's strange... No bugs are around it. Maybe I'll keep it for a repellent. Unfortunately, it smells.
14/o5/1o - 19/o5/1o: No note-worthy changes.
2o/o5/1o: Still no bugs. It looks like scavengers are keeping away too. It hasn't moved. At best, the fur is getting greasy and dirty. It doesn't stand as well as it once did. Little change otherwise. It's been pretty cold though there hasn't been any snow; is that affecting it?
21/o5/1o - 28/o5/1o: No note-worthy changes.
29/o5/1o: Spots of blood have been rising to the surface in places they weren't before. The top half of the leg, the ears, the back... From the way it's staining the fur, I can gather that it is coming from below, from the rabbit, and not any other source that might drip down on it. I can't tell if it's bleeding anew or if it's just old blood seeping out. I haven't actually seen the spots form.
3o/o5/1o - o1/o6/1o: More blood spots have been appearing.
o2/o6/1o: What almost look like bruises are starting to show up. They're less plentiful than the blood, but they're definitely there. They have the same confusing mystery as the blood spots. The body slowly appears to be beginning to relax.
o3/o6/1o - o7/o6/1o: The bruises are slowly darkening; the beginnings of some have begun to appear. Blood pool formation is slowing.
o8/o6/1o: Blood pool formation seems to have stopped completely.
o9/o6/1o - 13/o6/1o: The rate of the bruises' darkening and formation seems to be slowing.
14/o6/1o: Bruises have ceased formation completely. The darkening has grown to a crawl as well. One of the eyes opened. They're red.
15/o6/1o - 19/o6/1o: No notable changes.
2o/o6/1o: Some kind of black liquid has begun to leak out of its mouth and nose. I thought it was blood at first, but it looks much different than the dried blood on the leg or the blood pools that formed recently. It's forming a puddle... Bruise darkening seems to have stopped completely. The body's as limp as a fresh one.
21/o6/1o - 23/o6/1o: The puddle's growing.
24/o6/1o: The black stuff seems to be coming out of other orifices on the rabbit. I think I see very thin streams coming from the skin itself. What is this stuff? I still don't know; I refuse to touch it. It doesn't do anything to the stick I touched it with, but I still don't trust it. At best, all I can say is its kind of goopy, for lack of a better word. Somewhat sticky, but not like sap or anything of the sort.
25/o6/1o - 3o/o6/1o: The flows grow.
31/o6/1o: The flows are running pretty decently across the rabbit now. I think I'll see if I can get a jar to put some in and study separately. Maybe I'll take it to town and see if someone can tell me there. It's so strange... So eerie. It
A pause.
It almost reminds me of Mother. |
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