Post by willow on Nov 12, 2009 17:21:02 GMT -5
The Player
[/size]OOC Name:
Willow
Age:
Thirteen
Gender:
Female
Other Characters:
Not Yet.
The Character
[/size]Name:
Larke de Silvario
Aliases:
Silver
Age:
315 years
Species:
Vampire
Planet of Origin:
Luwena (small, monster infested planet)
Gender:
Female
Current Standing:
Monitored Civilian; does odd jobs for cash
Detailed Appearance:
Such beauty that this female possesses would be breathtaking if it weren't so cruel. Oh how cruel her features are! Cold, lifeless, uncaring eyes pierce into you, a gray in color. Red undertones flash whenever the thirst overcomes her, or when a great anger courses through her veins. You notice that her face is slender, her cheekbones high, and her skin is pale, so very pale. The only color you see is under her eyes, where a black and purple shadow remains. Otherwise, her skin is as pale as a full moon and as cold as ice. You look lower, and her pale lips part, revealing two razor sharp fangs surrounded by other pointed teeth; the killing weapons. Your eyes turn away from her face and scan her figure. She is rather slender, with hardly any curves. Nor does she have a rather large, busty chest. She bends down, for she is much taller than you, five foot six at the least. You cannot help but notice the wiry muscles that make her seem like a cat ready to spring. She grabs your arm, and you are surprised at how vice-like her grip is. And oh, how very cold her skin is! It is like touching ice, only much, much cooler. You shiver as her hair falls down, covering the cruel beauty of her face. It is inky black, blacker than a starless night. It curls down to her middle back in jagged, uneven layers. But you hardly notice as she leans closer. You recall seeing her somewhere, and you also recall that she didn't seem to change much. She is still wearing that cloak, those boots, and that strange charm around her neck. Others claim that very rarely is she seen without a cloak of some kind. Your heart pace increases as she opens her mouth and speaks in a chilling, calm voice. "I am Larke. Welcome to hell."
Strengths:
- Physically strong
- Cunning
- Agile
- Good at luring people into a false sense of security
Weaknesses:
- Cannot go in sunlight
- Christian objects harm her
- Impatient
- Cannot control thirst
Personality:
She smiles chillingly, and motions for you to sit down, saying she sometimes likes to play with her food before feasting. "I will tell you about myself." Larke goes on to describe her personality. She starts off by saying that mercy isn't in her vocabulary. No matter how you beg, or cry, or try to worm your way out of it, she will kill you. It isn't a game, nor is it negotiable. Once you are targeted, you are as good as dead. The female sits back and continues to speak. Her voice is emotionless and dead, and you assume that love and adoration aren't in her vocabulary either. Your assumptions are confirmed as she goes on to say that attachment is for the weak and can only hold you back. She admits that she is a bit hot-headed and brash, quick to jump to action before hearing the full story.
Larke seems to notice the way you look around nervously, and she smiles again. She feeds off of other being's fear, for it makes her feel powerful. The vampire snaps at you, calling your name like a dog and telling you to pay attention. Of course, you should have known. She sees humans as nothing more than sacks full of blood, or perhaps as dogs or cows. She goes on to say that she finds that Neebu and Choroid blood is quite delectable, but not as delicious as human blood. You think you hear a sound, and Larke leaps up, her cold gray eyes scanning the area. She is quite paranoid, you guess, and slow to trust anybody. Heck, you would be too, if the government was always tracking you. She slowly relaxes and continues as if nothing happens. Larke seems to think that she is superior to all, and that she is indestructible. Which, she probably is. When she looks at you with those cold, lifeless eyes, you feel that they have never held any emotion other than anger.
Prized Possessions:
She is never seen without a charm in the shape of a dagger hanging on a chain from her neck, given to her by her mother.
History:
Alexander, a young, dashing fellow, fell in love with Emily, a rather plain girl. Distaste is clear on Larke's face as she starts telling about her past. Their love blossomed, and they soon got married, bound for eternity, literally, on the planet known as Luwena. The two vampires tried for a child and were blessed with Larke. Right from the start they taught her everything she needed to know. How to satisfy her thirst, first of all. How to hunt, secondly. How to fight, third. And so our beauty slowly learned the way of her species, from both her parents and the other vampires in her coven.
The day the attack came was the day of Larke's equivalent of a sweet sixteen birthday party. It was well known that the vampires in her coven had been struggling with a rather large pack of werewolves for about three centuries now. Besides the few massacres that occurred, nothing major had went on. Until the day the werewolves came and destroyed everything. They killed her whole coven, including her father and mother, and would have gone for her too if she hadn't escaped in her newly obtained aircraft. Larke flew for days on end until she reached Earth, her thirst almost unbearable.
The first thing she did upon landing was to find a human and drain him of his blood. Her heart was cold now, so she didn't stop to think about the consequences nor of his family. For this, Larke was locked in the prison for about a month and let go, but only on the condition that a pesky hovercam would follow her around everywhere. After each cam was broken, the government decided that close monitoring was good enough, so they took to more discreet measures. But it is hard for Larke to satiate her thirst, and so she oftentimes goes under the radar and feeds. Not once has she been caught so far, but as she stays longer in Touchdown City, the surveillance on her becomes tighter. "Well now you know all about me. Now just relax and this won't hurt...much."
Roleplay Sample:
Taken from a long dead mutant roleplay.
The streets that harbored cars and people during the day were barren now. Sidewalks that so many feet tread on were empty. The stores were closed and people were safe at home, sleeping peacefully. Well, most people were. Alone on a bench sat a girl. Her long brown hair framed her pretty round face, as dark brown eyes stared straight ahead. Blue jean clad legs were drawn up against her stomach and pale arms were wrapped around them. It was a cold night and the sky was starless. There was a deep fog that only allowed vision for a few feet. It was the classic scene in a movie where the killer is stalking the streets or the monster is chasing the innocent virgin.
But there were no monsters, unless you thought mutants were monsters. There were no killers, unless you considered flaggers and hunters as killers. No, it was just a creepy night to be out. The girl stared ahead through all of the fog. Was she in a trance? Was she dead? No, she was watching. Her eyes moved ever so slightly as she followed the movements of the transparent people, ghosts as most would call them. They walked and conversed like any other alive being, only they weren't. The pretty girl, dubbed Zenith by her parents, continued to watch with blank eyes. At times she could see them through the fog, but it was hard to spot them. They blended in with the low cloud, like they were a part of it. Which is why Zenith called them people of the fog instead of ghosts.
She shivered and drew her coat closer around her body. It was gradually getting colder as the night wore on, and yet she didn't move. She had had a vision earlier; she was supposed to come here and she would meet a person that played some importance in her life. And so she waited, watching the people of the fog walk around, or rather float. A sigh escaped her lips as she shuddered again. Maybe her vision had been wrong. Maybe she wasn't going to meet anybody after all. Zenith looked up at the full moon, of which her middle name was named after. She suspected that she drew power from the moon; her visions, the ghosts, and her 'radar' seemed much clearer on the night of the full moon. But there was always margin for mistake; perhaps her vision was a mistake. Deciding to wait a bit longer, Zenith blew the hair out of her face and watched the people of the fog wander.
