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elaaraa

elaaraa

xoxo gossip girl
Morrican, Institute for Man and Mera role play based on dark academia, fantasy and mystery

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Character Sign Up
Basics:
โ€ข Name
โ€ข Nickname (Optional)
โ€ข Age
โ€ข Date of Birth
โ€ข Sexuality
โ€ข Gender
โ€ข Ethnicity
โ€ข Species
โ€ข Face Claim

Appearance:
โ€ข General Appearance: (This is things that we canโ€™t really tell from images alone like height, etc)
โ€ข Clothing Style (Optional)
โ€ข Body Modifications (Optional)
โ€ข Distinguishing Features (Species specific features that distinguish them from humans or other species)

Personality
โ€ข General Personality (A description of your characterโ€™s personalities. Please give enough description so that we know positive traits, negative traits, etc. This part should include some detail)
โ€ข Virtues (About four that you gathered from the general description - doesnโ€™t need to be explained)
โ€ข Vices (About four that you gathered from the general description - doesnโ€™t need to be explained)
โ€ข Likes (Optional)
โ€ข Dislikes (Optional)
โ€ข Quirks(Optional)

Biography
โ€ข History (Should be detailed, from how they were brought up, what they were taught growing up, what they were exposed to, etc. Did they try to fit in with humans? All the way to present day when they got their letter)
โ€ข Abilities (Only applies to non-humans. About three abilities which your character/character species possess and can do. Needs to have somewhat of an explanation.)
โ€ข Skills (Applies only to humans, in replacement of abilities - what skills have they learnt and what can they do. Doesnโ€™t need to be explained in detail.)
โ€ข Weaknesses (Applies to both humans and non-humans. Give three weaknesses that your character has, doesnโ€™t need to be explained in detail.)​
 














  • 1.





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    3.





    4.




















    • Yuki Kaji



      kitsune








      nickname.

      yui






      age.

      sixteen






      date of birth.

      03.08.2004






      sexuality.

      pansexual






      gender.

      cisgender female






      ethnicity.

      japanese






      species.

      kitsune






      faceclaim.

      Mei













      general appearance.

      Yuki has always been described as having an innocent looking face. Fairy-esque from the day she was born with large eyes, wide and wavering like the ocean. She has extremely delicate and pale skin, something which her mother revered in and often encouraged her to keep - never allowing her to step foot in the sun too long and always making sure that the SPF in her sunscreen was always above 50, perks of being able to settle and inter grain into human society was to benefit from their technologies. She has large doe like eyes, brown in their colour and filled with long and spacious eyelashes which are always accentuated with a coat of mascara to emphasise them. She has double eyelids as opposed to mono-lids and has a deep epicanthal fold towards her inner eye. She has a full, plump pout - a tell all sign of her ethnic origins, another being her curved and flat nose bridge with nostrils slightly flailing outwards.

      She stands at 5โ€™0โ€ and has a very slim figure due to an extremely fast metabolism and extreme worry that if she etas too much, she's gonna end up looking like a 'fatty' or a 'loser' - whichever is worse. She is somehow always changing between hair colours, bright orange one day and then lilac the next. She enjoys living the life of luxury and also looking the part too, which is why you'll never catch her without being fully dressed and no full face of makeup.






      clothing style.

      Yuki's very much Ariana Grande inspired wardrobe






      body modifications.

      two standard lobe piercings and pointy ear tips.






      distinguishing features.

      her baby face.


















      1.



    โ™กdesign by triples, coded by uxieโ™ก


 
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​





  • 20201215_190426.jpg


    Basics

    Name: Kester Fionnlagh
    Nickname: idk Kessie or something he really doesnโ€™t care
    Age: 18
    Date of Birth: March 2nd
    Sexuality: You love me Iโ€™ll love you
    Gender: Male
    Ethnicity: Scottish for pride, English mixture in likely reality
    Species: Ghillie Dhu

    Face Claim
    Darwin Gray


    Appearance

    General Appearance: Of about 6โ€™2/188cm height with a wiry muscle mass that has yet to fill in it's frame.

    Clothing Style: Grew up in a woodland shack away from people so naturally has absolutely zero sense of fashion. Expect only comfy clothes which do not restrict movement. That being said Kester only wears the human threads to fit in and would prefer the moss clothing he is capable of forming. Bonus happy points if there are birch trees about to further enhance his creations with bark. Hats are fine though. Big hat little hat flashy hat it doesnโ€™t matter as long as they fit between his antlers.

    Distinguishing Features: Antlers similar to a stag that are just large enough to sometimes be quite irritating. Less obvious are the number of moles on his left cheek.

    Personality

    General Personality: Kester carries a general disposition quite in line with what many would assume of woodland fae, the natural affinity for nature being most obvious. Kind, perhaps to a fault, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume he would give someone the shirt off his back. Assume being used because he has only notably interacted with a grand total of two people throughout his life. With such little experience amongst others it should go as no surprise that he doesn't pick up on social cues very well. Likewise he would rather listen to others talk about themselves than he of himself, this is both due to his own reticence as it is his curiosity of the world outside his forest. That same intrigue is applied to other outsider materials and it is a fact that one of his more treasured childhood belongings was a bent license plate. Luckily he gave that same energy, somewhat, to studies of human subjects and is not entirely hopeless in such courses. However his mind is too preoccupied with daydream for him to be considered sharp.

    Being a bit awkward as he is, it is probably for the best that just the thought of speaking in front of a crowd gives him the shakes. No, he is much better suited with a lax attitude amongst an environment he is comfortable with. Because of this he can be a bit dependent on individuals he meshes with, not having the confidence to go beyond his safety net. Thus, he is certainly one who takes quality over quantity and does what he can to keep those connections strong. Of course this is also a bit of an assumption, although a very safe one, as nearly all of his friends were plants.

    It is easy to mistake Kester's go with the flow, easygoing nature for him being a pacifist. To a point that would be true, however everybody has their breaking point, and when he reaches that point the results are a single-minded desire for retribution.


    Vices:
    1. Has crushed people into fertilizer and would do it again. You might say he is a bit vengeful (granted whoever pisses off a forest guardian that much probably deserves it)
    2. Gullible
    3. Doubt
    4. Reserved

    Virtues:
    1. Compassionate
    2. Benevolent
    3. Humility
    4. Spirituality
    Likes:
    1. Vibing in a forest
    2. Growing plants
    3. Sweets
    4. Outdoor naps
    5. A comfy moss robe
    6. Birch
    Dislikes:
    1. Summertime (it hot)
    2. Litter
    3. Just general assholery to plants
    4. Crowds
    5. Having to talk in front of crowds
    6. Spicy foods
    Quirks:
    1. Will eventually ask if you want to forage for nuts and berries with him
    2. Vegan
    3. Snores (apologies to his roomie)
    4. Fucking awful, barely legible handwriting
    5. Has a birthmark that looks like sideways Florida

    Biography

    History: Much of his childhood is shrouded in the haze of time, but for as long as Kester can recall the forest was his home. He lived with one who called herself Mother though she was not like him, nor was she a human. Beneath the canopy of old wood he grew; his existence occupied by his blooming powers over verdant life then, when ready, he was introduced to more human teachings. Her purpose for doing so beyond his understanding. It was an idyllic childhood hidden from the eyes of humanity. Hidden that is, until a chance meeting with a human of an age like his.

    As one could imagine it was quite the shock for that young human who rounded a bend to come upon a human-like creature with antlered head dressed in moss. Yet, such details didn't seem to bother the human who would occasionally return to the forest and talk with its secret inhabitant. Such meetings needed to be in secret, both because of Motherโ€™s repeated warnings for secrecy, and because it was simply more exciting that way. So they would spend those pleasant days frolicking in the forest where he was young master with little care, all the while laughing until those reluctant partings. Life was good, until the day it changed.

    On that day, that scene which awaited him at the meeting spot showed him that which he had been shielded from. It brought forth an emotion which had been buried deep beneath many years of peace. Malice. When all was said and done Kester left behind a small field of purple heather flowers with one awful dark patch that stained a beautiful landscape. Had other emotions not taken precedence he would have been shocked to find Mother silently waiting at the forest edge. Did she follow him? That he could only guess. Surely she had suspicions but she never voiced them. Yet, there were times when he felt she looked at him with saddened eyes. Even now those glances and her odd behavior on that day give him pause.

    It was later, about four or five months, that the letter arrived. Kester had wanted to decline this strange invitation, the existence of a school for those like him seemed impossible. Absurd even. It was the odd persistence of Mother which led him to accept.

    Abilities:
    1. Green thumb- He has a moderate amount of power over plants. This ranges from simply making them healthier to hastening growth at miraculous rates.
    2. Enhanced strength- The old tales of ghillie dhuโ€™s wrapping victims in an inescapable grasp are no joke. Although he is not smashing boulders with his fist strong, Kester is on par with the upper tier of humans.
    3. Enhanced hardiness/durability- He can survive a Scottish winter wearing only a coat of wet moss and can withstand the wear his own strength would do to him.

    Weaknesses:
    1. Generally naรฏve/sheltered especially when it comes to people
    2. Iron is a bitch
    3. A little(very) ignorant of the modern world


 
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  • {|} Part One ~ Introduction {|}
    โ€ข Full Name: Manuel Danny Sirel
    โ€ข Nicknames: Open - Nell, Nelly, Nanny
    โ€ข Age: 17
    โ€ข DOB: October 22
    โ€ข Sexuality: Heterosexual
    โ€ข Gender: Male
    โ€ข Ethnicity: American/Italian with German ancestry
    โ€ข Breed: Werewolf
    โ€ข House: TBA
    โ€ข Clubs: TBA
    โ€ข Most common emotions: Joy, jealousy (sometimes)
    โ€ข Self Description: โ€œIโ€™m a caring person and will always have your back, as long as lies arenโ€™t sharedโ€
    โ€ข Face-claim: Wolfgang Novogratz
    โ€ข Song: Give some suggestions, thanks

  • {|} Part One ~ Introduction {|}
    โ€ข Full Name: Orville Black
    โ€ข Nicknames: Open - Ollie
    โ€ข Age: 16
    โ€ข DOB: July 6
    โ€ข Sexuality: Heterosexual (hidden bi-curious)
    โ€ข Gender: Male
    โ€ข Ethnicity: Scottish/British
    โ€ข Breed: Selkie/Human
    โ€ข House: TBA
    โ€ข Clubs: TBA
    โ€ข Most common emotions: Jealousy, flirtatious, moody/grumpy
    โ€ข Self Description: โ€œIโ€™d say I make a rather fine gentleman, Iโ€™m careful with my words and I have a good heartโ€
    โ€ข Face-claim: Barns Courtney
    โ€ข Song: Please suggest things? Thanks

  • {|} Part One ~ Introduction {|}\ [B โ€ข Full Name:[/B] Beowulf Day
    โ€ข Nicknames: Open
    โ€ข Age: 17
    โ€ข DOB: April 14
    โ€ข Sexuality: Heterosexual
    โ€ข Gender: Male
    โ€ข Ethnicity: American, with long German/Greek lines
    โ€ข Breed: Werewolf
    โ€ข House: TBA
    โ€ข Clubs: TBA
    โ€ข Most common emotions: Anger, excitement
    โ€ข Self Description: โ€œIโ€™m stubborn and confident in everything I do, I suggest staying out of my way or youโ€™ll regret itโ€
    โ€ข Face-claim: Cole Sprouse
    โ€ข Song: Monster by Skillet Champion by Fall Out Boy
 
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  • basics
    persona
    info
    history




    • wynter.

      โ€ข โ€ข




 
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PERI

Basics:
--
Name: Peri

Nickname: Percy, "Hey you! Yeah- you idiot!" (Lovingly from her brother)

Age: 17

Date of Birth: 27/4

Sexuality: Bisexual

Gender: Female

Ethnicity: Asian/Western

Species: Peri (Bird-Winged Human)

Face Claim: Unknown.

Appearance:
--
d3d8ec5db86a195db7c2041277de9e14.jpg
d4b9f3e6d90fd3b19eed430e25d537d0.jpg

โ€ข General Appearance: 5'4" Peri has reddish-orange brown hair, and dark brown eyes, her skin is a pinkish lightly tanned shade and she is well-toned and muscular.

โ€ข Clothing Style: Being a sporty kind of tom-boy Peri prefers hoodies, shirts (both modified for wings) and sets of shorts or jeans with red sneakers.

โ€ข Distinguishing Features: She looks fairly human however has a large set of slightly grey black raven like wings on her back about her own height in length and going down to just below the back of her knees when folded back. She can't hide these easily nor make them 'disappear'.

Personality
--
General Personality: Peri is a confident and smug kind of tomboy-ish girl, she likes making friends but won't hesitate to punch if she thinks you're making fun of her or causing trouble. She's definitely of the 'punch first, think later' approach to situations. She's rather sporty and active with more energy than common sense and a cocky attitude to what she's good at. She hates being cramped up inside and frankly- sucks at math with a burning passion against it. None of this stubborn yet friendly attitude is halted by her partial deafness, due to it she learnt since young to be incredibly good at reading lips and had regular speech-training even though she still struggles to talk 'normally'. She does get frustrated when others look down at her and has a short fuse. She's a good friend and won't leave you hanging in a time of need, and though she's a bit of the dumb jock stereotype she does her best to help out others where possible.

Virtues: Brave, Passionate, Hard-Worker, Good heart.

Vices: Stubborn, Cocky, Easy to anger, not the most 'booksmart'.

Quirks: When she gets angry or panicked she struggles to say her words correctly and instead will use a lot of charade-type arm movements and trying to draw or write it out on the nearest thing. She has a fear of deep water due to her wings getting wet and not being able to fly, as such- she hates the beach. Her cheeks and ears turn pink when she gets frustrated with a situation.

Biography
--
โ€ข History: STILL A WIP

โ€ข Abilities: Flight, Able to elongate their finger and toenails into talons, Their wings are incredibly strong muscle wise and can be used to hit others with a rather nasty amount of force or shield themselves at risk of serious injury.

โ€ข Weaknesses: Getting herself soaked will completely remove her ability of flight, Her bones are naturally somewhat hollow like a birds therefore can't take hits head-on without decent risk, wings are strong however they are bulky and respond to muscle reactions just like the rest of the body, causing them to become a hinderance in small areas.
 
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Erna Cloves
'Rai'

Basics:
--
Name: Erna Cloves

Nickname: Rai (preferred name)

Age: 18

Date of Birth: 3/12

Sexuality: Lesbian, Demisexual.

Gender: Female

Ethnicity: European/American

Species: Beast-Kin (Wendigo type werewolf sub-species)

Face Claim: (Unknown.)

Appearance:
--
9fcf1b6eb5436b091131e5bda2393237.jpg
9e9311f4aff0be36aebb7b2fde36830c.jpg

โ€ข General Appearance: 5'7" A toned slightly above average build, she has a large scar stretching from her upper middle back to her stomachs left side, and a couple smaller ones strewn about. Her eyes are a deep blue like the oceans depths.

โ€ข Clothing Style: Casual, somewhat darker tones with a jacket of some kind usually accompanying it, often covering herself well unless working out or running in which she'll opt for a singlet and leggings instead.

โ€ข Distinguishing Features: There's nothing obvious when in her human form much like other were-creature types, however when loosing temper or involuntarily/voluntarily beginning to shift her canines will extend and her eyes will turn a pitch black soulless color, claws growing from her hands before the full and sudden change.

Personality
--
General Personality: Rai is a bit of an awkward teen, she can come across as someone standoffish, cold and blunt. However this is mostly due to a lack of social skills and her own self-esteem issues and fear of herself. She actually would love to make some friends, or even just a good acquaintance, sadly her worries and internal struggles lead her to avoid such a thing unless approached first by another. She holds grudges and is deeply loyal to those she sees good in, protecting something she doesn't think is in herself. She is trying to better herself however, along with taming the beast inside.

Virtues: Loyal, Determined, Caring, Resilient.

Vices: Doesn't believe in herself, Grudge holder, quick to judge, pushes others away.

Quirks: Chews on her lip when nervous, avoids eye contact with others most of the time.

Biography

โ€ข History: Rai was raised by a young single mother and no father to be seen. When she was younger some of the older town kids decided to beat up her and her friend, all becuase their parents said her mom was a freak, she lost her temper and attacked one of them to a near fatal extent after shifting, leading to a group of the small European country towns people to come for them, eventually leading to her mother dying trying to protect her. She was taken in by another supernatural family in America but didn't fit in with them or the human residents of the area, continuing to be bullied and feel alone as her beast side struggled to be kept under control without guidance from one of her own kind. Having enough of it she became scarier than the other kids, stronger than them, faster than them... But not turning into her monster form, never again voluntarily. In her head it was better that they feared her, than hurt her-... or rather she'd hurt them. She still shifted uncontrollably and frequently woke up in the nearby forest covered in some innocent animals blood, she had no memories of those times, no control... It terrified her. It wasn't long after she'd made the choice to leave the family who took her in and drop out of school at sixteen, working a part time job and living part homeless, and partially in an older abandoned house near the woods- then she received a letter.

โ€ข Abilities: Shifting into her Wendigo form (A large beast with increased strength, resilience, and the ability to see in the dark), Enhanced natural sense of smell and hearing, Able to emit an ear-splitting roar in beast form that induces a fear based chemical reaction.

โ€ข Weaknesses: Due to her enhanced hearing loud and overlapping noises can overwhelm and potentially even knock her out, When in beast form she has little control of her actions leaving her to rely on instincts over thinking (meaning she can be outsmarted/tricked), Bright lights can temporarily blind Wendigo.
 
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    • cashmere woods












    โ™กdesign by dreamglow, coded by uxieโ™ก

 
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WIP

brilliant
flower
  • i
    tried to turn the light on just to keep her warm

    and baby i can love you just the way you are

    but how come i can only find you in the dark?
code by valen t.
 
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Basics:
Name: Iapetus Hondriades
Age: 16
Date of Birth: 28 September
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Greek
Species: Cyclops

Appearance:
General Appearance:
Hair: Dark brown, short, wavy
Eyes: One large brown eye in the middle of his forehead
Height: 27 feet
Weight: 20 tonnes
Body Type: Extremely muscular
Distinguishing Features: Giant, one eye

Personality
General Personality: Iapetus is typically seen as a dim-witted, easily angered, reckless fool. And, in most cases, you would be correct. There is not much depth to his personality, although he can be fair and generous, and he is extremely talented working with tools.
Outwitting or lying to Iapetus is no difficult task. Luckily for him, he doesnโ€™t experience much emotional pain when he realises he has been made a fool of, however he will try to inflict as much physical pain as possible to those who did him wrong in his easily provoked bouts of anger. Having never lived with humans or any civil beings before, Iapetus has very few social manners. He never says โ€œplease or โ€œthank youโ€, very rarely smiles, and would have too much trouble trying to figure out how a door works to even think about holding it open for someone. Not only does he think himself above petty manners, but also any authoritarian figure that he could pick up in one hand (which is most). He has no regard for rules, and much prefers to go about things his own way. After all, what are they going to do about it? In his eyes, Iapetus is more powerful and dangerous than anyone smaller than him.
Surprisingly, Iapetus does have some level of emotional intelligence, and is fair and generous. He can acknowledge that if someone does something kind to him, he is obliged to do the same for them, and he can generally do so without being asked to or complaints. Being gifted in craftmanship, it is not out of the ordinary for Iapetus to gift products of his trade to those he deem worthy, or anyone who hasnโ€™t done him wrong.
Virtues: Fair, generous, skilled in workshops
Vices: Dim-witted, easily angered, reckless rulebreaker

Biography
History: Iapetus was born in a hidden cave in southwestern Sicily. There, he lived with his mother, Owbrog, his father, Coeus, his brothers, Hyperion and Oceanus, and his sisters, Alockrus and Vovir. They lived near other cyclops families, due to their high concentration in the one area. As a child, Iapetus rarely travelled, due to the humans living in surrounding areas. He often enjoyed playing rough, outdoor games with his brothers and the other young males in their area.
Iapetus never attended any form of school, was never taught to read or write, and only learned basic numeracy. Although being told stories was rare, those that he did hear regarded his ancestors many years ago, and how they loved, killed, were tricked, and worked. Although never very deep, the stories always had morals, about how to seduce women, the most satisfying ways to kill humans, how to avoid being outwitted, and the history of their kind.
Iapetus never had the chance to explore the world, and see different locations, but he did, however, learn all about smithing, and was taught about making helmets, bows, arrows, tridents and more. Because of his father and older brother, Hyperion, working in the workshops since Iapetus was at a young age, before welcoming him and his younger brother, Oceanus, Iapetus grew up accustomed to noise, heat, and rumbling, and can become slightly unsettled if everything is quiet, cold, and still. He associates that with no one working, and, as that has never been apart of his life, makes the connection to death.
Living with humans was never part of Iapetusโ€™s upbringing, however eating them definitely was. Whenever humans would wander into their cave, in search of adventure, which happened surprisingly regularly, they would be killed and eaten before their screams could echo for too long. Iapetus was always slightly disappointed with the height and rarity of humans, despite their quality, as that could only mean less food for him, so he typically preferred eating other, more common mammals.
One day, Iapetus awoke to find a small rectangle of a hard, yet flexible substance. He had seen this kind of thing before but was not very accustomed to it. He picked it up, finding that the entirety of it was about the size of his fingernail, but had little to no clue as to what to do with it next. He could not read what it said on the front, yet he had the strange feeling it was meant for him. When his mother, Owbrog, awoke, he showed it to her. Despite her having the most experience with literacy in the family, she was still unsure what the heading said, yet felt confident they had to open it. As it soon became obvious, opening the letter with their fingers would not work, so, after going to the workshop to find a small knife, Iapetus returned with the solution to their dilemma. However, opening the letter had little to no effect, as it only revealed more writing which they had difficulty grasping meaning from. Eventually, they decided it best to discuss the matter with the largest and most powerful cyclops, Cronus, who supposedly knew the most literacy in their area. They left the letter with him and returned in the afternoon. When they returned, Cronus was sitting there, the letter on a nearby bench, with little expression on his face. When Iapetus asked what it was, Cronus explained that Iapetus was invited to a school. This was unheard of. No one who did not need to know proper literacy and numeracy would have even dreamed to go to school. Nevertheless, Iapetus felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. He wanted to go to school. Finally, Owbrog asked the question Iapetus had been thinking: Should he go? After a momentโ€™s hesitation, Cronus issued a subtle nod. Iapetus opened his mouth to ask what to do, but, Cronus, anticipating this second question, explained it to him as he picked up the letter and ticked the box.
Abilities:
Single Eye โ€“ The user has a single eye. Users may have exceptional accuracy and direct visual focus.
Unnatural Size - The user either possesses a level of physical size either greater or smaller than that of a normal member of their species or is simply a member of a species that is naturally bigger or smaller than humans.
Weakness:
User has no depth perception, although they may have ways to compensate for this.
 
Basics:
Name: Amara Amphitrite
Nickname: Ama or Mara
Age: 17
Date of Birth: May 30th
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian/Greek
Species: Siren

Appearance
Face Claim: Barbara Palvin
605C99B7-B0D4-4CC9-A02C-C27C41DEB320.jpeg

General Appearance:
Tall; 5โ€™7โ€ with long limbs. Her hair falls down to her hip.

Clothing Style:
Amara wears as little as possible, as sheโ€™d prefer to go without clothes altogether if that was accepted. On her home island, she wears a seashell bra and sarong skirt made of netting and adorned with jewels and trinkets. In the human world, sun dresses make up 90% of her wardrobe, and she NEVER wears closed-toed shoes.

Body Modifications:
Tattoo down her back

Distinguishing Features:
When in the water, has a teal iridescent tail and fin, and gills. Appearance in Siren form:
E8FBFCE1-4500-43D0-9FA2-F0DFE6FC572B.jpeg


Personality
General Personality:
Amara is a lot to handle, and pretty much always walks the line of being over dramatic. She can be over the moon about someone complimenting her hair one moment, and on the ground in a puddle of tears over a stained dress the next. She is very confident- the ability to lure a man on a whim and hold his life in your hands will do that to a girl- even about her downfalls. Amara is not the most academically inclined, but she doesnโ€™t let that bother her. Sometimes she come across as an airhead, but thatโ€™s mostly because she doesnโ€™t actually take the time to think things through. She has a very short attention span and gets bored easily. Amara is on an endless search for fun to be had, and does not discriminate on what type of fun it is. She has a tendency to โ€œfall in loveโ€ very quickly and fleetingly. If she sees a cute human boy, thereโ€™s a 90% chance she will think she is in love with him. (Amara has really only been around other Sirens, mermaids and humans, so it is to be seen if her affinity for falling in love extends to other mythical beings as well.) Hell hath no fury like a broken hearted Amara though. Luckily her broken hearts last only as long as it takes her to find another cute guy. She is extremely loyal to her friends and is not afraid to go to bat for them. While she enjoys being feminine and elegant, she can get down and dirty with the rest when required.

Vices:
๐ŸŒธ Overdramatic
๐ŸŒธ Short Attention Span
๐ŸŒธ Doesnโ€™t do well in school
๐ŸŒธ Has a habit of luring men to their death
๐ŸŒธ A flirt

Virtues:
๐ŸŒธ Loyal
๐ŸŒธ Outgoing
๐ŸŒธ Confident
๐ŸŒธ Adventurous

Likes:
๐ŸŒธ Trying new things
๐ŸŒธ Anything to do with water
๐ŸŒธ Cute guys/flirting
๐ŸŒธ Flowers
๐ŸŒธ Sweets (has a weakness for human desserts)

Dislikes:
๐ŸŒธ Being left out
๐ŸŒธ Spiders, bugs & snakes
๐ŸŒธ The desert
๐ŸŒธ Flying (scared of it)

Quirks:
๐ŸŒธ Falls in and out of love constantly
๐ŸŒธ Twirls her hair when sheโ€™s nervous
๐ŸŒธ Gets the hiccups when sheโ€™s scared


Biography
History:
Amara has spent her whole life on a hidden island in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Greece. The island lore teaches that the sirens who dwell there are ancestors of those that tempted Odysseus. The sirens have since evolved from their relic ancestors though, shedding their bird-like form for one more suited to the sea.

Raised by her siren mother, Amara and her many sisters have had a sheltered but carefree life amongst the Siren colony. Her father went out to explore the sea one day when she was a baby and never returned, so Amara is not allowed to venture too far away from her home. Being so confined in her life has attributed to Amaraโ€™s over dramatic personality. She is a big fish in a small pond and feels like she doesnโ€™t have the space to properly express herself.

Amaraโ€™s contact with humans is limited to those who have the misfortune to sail too close to an island that isnโ€™t found on any maps. The sirens protect their island by using their songs to lure sailors to their deaths, causing them to crash the boats into the rocks and drown.

Unlike most Sirens, Amara has a fascination with humans and doesnโ€™t seen them as food. She has fallen in love with many young men that are called to the islandโ€™s shores by her family to meet a watery death. Secretly, Amara saves these poor souls from drowning, and hides them away in a secret cove to live with her. However, her flings with these men are often short lived and she either grows tired of the mortals or they anger her by attempting to escape. Either way, the young men never make it back to the mainland.

When Amaraโ€™s letter came, she was extremely excited for the chance to see another land besides the island she had been confined to her whole life. She does not know much about other types of beings since the Sirens are a conceited species and donโ€™t bother teaching the lore of others. Having been told that Sirens live around the world, Amara cannot wait to meet others like her and find out about their adventures.

Abilities:
๐ŸŒธ Her siren song: Amara can enchant men with her singing, giving her a power over them and the ability to bend their will to her own
๐ŸŒธ When in the water, takes on a mermaid-like form with a tail, fin and gills. When on land, can transform into a human-like body
๐ŸŒธ Can communicate with sea life
๐ŸŒธ Superhuman strength and speed underwater

Weaknesses:
๐ŸŒธ Fire, she has a fear of it
๐ŸŒธ Loses much of her extra strength and speed when on land
๐ŸŒธ If the air is too dry, like in the desert, her voice becomes hoarse and she canโ€™t sing as well

(This should be complete, but let me know if anything needs changed or I missed something)
 
Last edited:
Basics:
Name: Andry Brushgather
Age: 18
Date of Birth: 22 June
Sexuality: Bisexual
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Russian
Species: Lightfoot Halfling
Face Claim: Angelina Khachaturyan
1608345723931.png

Appearance:
General Appearance:
Hair: Brown, wavy
Eyes: Brown
Height: 3 feet
Weight: 40 pounds
Body Type: Curvy
Clothing Style: Simple, comfortable, and practical clothes, favouring bright colours
Distinguishing Features: Short

Personality
General Personality: Andry is very practical. Not only is her clothing style most suited for getting things done, but she tends to focus more on basic needs and simple pleasures, rather than showy displays of wealth or luxury. She is also quite talented in finding the most efficient ways to get things done and cannot stand indecisiveness. However, she is incredibly kind, friendly, and cheery, and loves spending time with friends and family. Additionally, she is quite curious, and enjoys nothing more than discovering new things, whether it be as small as an exotic food, or an unfamiliar style of clothing. Andryโ€™s generosity becomes very apparent when any living thing suffers or is in pain, as she is easily moved to pity, and will happily share what she has, even if there is not much to go around. Despite Andryโ€™s differences, she tries to be as loyal and hard-working as possible, and generally fits in with others, despite her diminutive size. When those she cares about are threatened, Andry displays remarkable ferocity in trying to harm whoever could hurt her loved ones. She is also very good-hearted, with no tolerance for oppression, and is orderly and traditional, as she enjoys the support of her family and the comfort of their ways. Due to her uncommon yet fierce bouts of protection for her loved ones, Andry can be very brave, which generally translates to her everyday life, and she is not easily frightened. Being a lightfoot halfling (rather than stout), she finds herself naturally stealthy, and can hide well without much cover.
Virtues: Practical, kind, curious, affable, cheery, generous, loyal, good-hearted, orderly, traditional, brave, stealthy
Vices: Little patience for indecisiveness, possibly too ferocious when her friends or family is threatened, uncertainty with change
Likes: Peace, food, lit fireplaces, home, family, friends
Dislikes: Fighting, indecisive people, living things suffering, those who threaten her family or friends

Biography
History: Growing up, Andry lived with her father, Alton, her mother, Bree, her older sisters, Callie, Cora and Euphemia, her younger brother, Ander, and her older brother, Cade. Together, they formed a traveling band. Andry played the horn, her father played the viol, her mother and Ander played the shawms, Callie and Euphemia played the dulcimers, Cora played the bagpipes, and Cade played the lute. However, their instruments were not of very good quality, because their parents were peasants and they grew up in the lower class. Nonetheless, this did not affect their music making skills, as all members of the family were quite musically talented, having been educated in the art from a young age.
When Andry was eight years old, the beloved and benevolent King Corrin fell ill and died shortly afterwards. However, this meant he was succeeded by his hateful and haughty son, now-King Eldon. This resulted in the ban of public music, sending the Brushgathers into further poverty. In order to try to combat this, they continued their traveling band with secret performances throughout the kingdom, in order to try to scrape money here and there, or a free meal for a night.
One fateful night, Andry was roaming the streets in search of people to beg to. After being largely unsuccessful, as she was dragging her feet on the ground, she noticed a small, huddled figure on the ground beside a building. She looked up, and saw a shivering old man, holding up a hand painted ceramic vase. It became instantly apparent by the desperate look in his eyes and the silhouette of his slight frame that he needed money to exchange for the product of his trade. Knowing her own hopeless financial situation, she felt her eyes well up with hot tears as she ran through the blistering cold back to the inn her family was staying at for the night. She now feels sincere regret, and, although it is kept a secret by those she trusts deeply, she still sees the old man in her darkest moments or hardest decisions. She now realises that her intense desire for justice is one of her drawbacks, as she can not tolerate unfairness, and feels compelled to act or speak out when unjust acts are witnessed. If personally wronged, Andry requires to feel satisfactorily righted, or else needs to have satisfactorily taken her revenge.
Although she does not live with humans, Andry has been accepted into their society before, generally going under the lie of having dwarfism. She is fairly accustomed to their technology, yet always finds things to marvel at. When Andry received her letter, she was delighted to attend Morrican, and nearly ticked the box without even consulting with her parents.
Abilities: Dexterous, Extended Lifespan (to around 150 years), Lucky, Brave, Nimble, Charismatic, Stealthy
Weaknesses: Gluttony, laziness, height
 
โ€ข Name Chimmeken of the Glasebach Sprites

โ€ข Nickname (Optional) Chimme (Chim-E)

โ€ข Age 16

โ€ข Date of Birth October 31

โ€ข Sexuality Straight

โ€ข Gender Male

โ€ข Ethnicity Germanic Mine/Earth Sprite

โ€ข Species Kobold

โ€ข Face Claim No

1608428942010.png

Appearance:
โ€ข General Appearance: Dimunitive, thick-set body with an bizarre mix of canine and reptilian facial features. Chimmeken's silvery-gray scales with a blue undertone contrasts with his vibrant red irises, and bony spines (think iguana) line from the top of his head down to the tip of his rat-like tail.

โ€ข Clothing Style Ioose-fitting overalls with a red bolo tie.

โ€ข Body Modifications The tips of the spines on Chimmeken's head are coated with some gold-like material

โ€ข Distinguishing Features Being a type of Mine Sprite, Chimmeken always seems to be dirtied by coal, regardless of his cleanliness.

Personality
โ€ข General Personality Chimmeken is a passionate individual driven by the desire to spark change in the world. He sees limitless potential for good if more species openly socialize together, however he can be stubborn in his interactions with them. Chimme tries to see everyone in a good light, or at least recognize admirable qualities they possess.

โ€ข Virtues Enthusiastic, Friendly, Curious, and Supportive

โ€ข Vices Hoards, Willful, Naรฏve, and Impractical

โ€ข Likes Word Play, Manners, Digging, Dancing, and Singing

โ€ข Dislikes Salty Foods, Swimming (Hydrophobia), Flying, Numbers, and Crass Speech

โ€ข Quirks Big Optimist

Biography
โ€ข History
Chimmeken and his kobold colony kept peace with the human miners for decades. As a rule, kobolds were not supposed to openly reveal themselves to the miners, but mildly inconveniencing them was fine. Chimme would often help out with extracting good ore and finding secure spots for digging, but in exchange help himself to their food. Over time, he grew bolder in his interactions with the humans and rumors of kindly earth sprites that inhabited the mountain spread. They sought to exploit the creatures, so in their greed set a trap for the kobold. Chimmeken was captured but was promptly rescued by his colony, however not before word got out about the kobolds. His colony ended up migrating deeper within the mountain, and not long afterwards the letter arrived for Chimmeken. Frightened by his experience but not discouraged, Chimme enrolled into the Morrican Institute for Man and Mer.

โ€ข Abilities
Pass through Stone: As an earth sprite, Chimmeken can pass through stone as easy as moving through air (must be unenchanted). Naturally when using this ability, Chimme does not need to breathe and can remain there as long as he desires, however his senses outside of touch are dulled.

Prospector's Eye: Whether it is a magical intuition or an evolutionary one, kobolds are able to discern what a mineral is made out of.

Inattentional Blindness: Kobolds do not have invisibility, however they are extremely easy to miss. Inattentional Blindness is as if Chimmeken is in a blind spot, until it is remembered that he around. People that are extremely observant or that have keen memory are able to bypass the blindspot.

โ€ข Weaknesses
Frail: Both in terms of being physically weak, and delicate

Poor Vision: Bad eyesight

Diminutive: Travel takes longer, always looking up to speak, and worse is that he cannot reach the top shelf, or the shelf for that matter
 


  • persephone
    do not underestimate my cruelty
    basics
    FULLNAME.
    persephone narcissa hale.​

    NICKNAME.
    seph, hale, black widow.​

    SPECIES.
    vampire.​

    AGE.
    sixteen.​

    D.O.B.
    june 13.​

    ZODIAC.
    gemini.​

    GENDER.
    cis female.​

    PRONOUNS.
    she/her.
    ​
    SEXUALITY.
    undefined.​

    ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.
    women.​

    P.O.B.
    romania.​


    appearance

    FACE CLAIM.
    christina nadin.​

    GENERAL.
    An obsessively perfect woman, Persephone keeps her black hair pin straight with a clean middle part. Golden eyes and thin black brows are contrasted by her signature red lip and blood-red manicure. She wears very minimal makeup, her skin naturally unmarred and golden.
    ​
    HEIGHT.
    5'3 / 5'6.
    ​
    WEIGHT.
    104lbs.
    ​
    BODY MODS.
    "blood thirsty" on her left thigh in her handwriting.​

    DISTINGUISHING FEATURES.
    cold skin, double-set of fangs, talon-like claws, solid-black eyes and bulging veins when she smells blood.​



    misc

    TRIVIA FACTS.
    hates the feel of silk.
    can't stand smelling syrup.
    speaks four languages.    ​

    THEME SONGS.
    glory and gore - lorde.
    my blood - ellie goulding.
    prom queen - molly kate kesner.    ​



    personality

    GENERAL PERSONALITY.
    persephone is a wild card. she is narcissistic, vain, prideful, and obsessed with the status quo. she despises people who donโ€™t see the importance of a political hierarchy because itโ€™s taken over every aspect of her life. she must be perfect. powerful. she has never been one to back down from a fight. sheโ€™s able to hold herself together without showing weakness and pushes back even harder- verbal or otherwise. itโ€™s only when sheโ€™s alone that she shows how badly things get to her. sheโ€™s just a little girl, after all.​

    VICES.
    addiction.
    egoism.
    haughtiness.
    pride.
    impetuosity.    ​

    VIRTUES.
    assertive.
    discrete.
    generous.    ​

    LIKES.
    sweet cakes.
    praise.
    poetry.    ​

    DISLIKES.
    disrespect.
    werewolves.
    being underestimated.    ​

    relevant history


    Persephone Narcissa Hale was born on June 13th, a Friday, to Crescentia and Viktor Hale in the hills of Romania. She was primarily raised by her nanny Elsbeth, a turned-vampire kept as the family servant for generations. Elsbeth tried her best to teach Persephone to be good. Piano lessons, working in the garden, spending hours in the library deciphering age-old poetry. Persephone adored Elsbeth and was, honestly, a very kind and gracious little girl. Elsbeth was the only mother sheโ€™d ever known.
    As she grew in her teenage years, things changed. Persephone had an unrelenting bloodlust that would never be quenched and a strange affinity for fire. Lord Hale saw her potential and she was thrust into the fold of Vampiric Court. Beautiful gowns and eloquent speech would never be enough to disguise the terrible actions of Lady Crescentia and Lord Hale.
    Elsbeth watched for years as the Hales negotiated their daughter to every highborn boy that entered the walls of their home, confined to the dungeons to keep her from interfering. Just days after Persephoneโ€™s fourteenth birthday, Elsbeth was found dead at her own hand. The only note was scratched into the stone floor by her head. My Daffodil. Persephoneโ€™s childhood nickname.
    With her beloved caregiverโ€™s body cold beneath the garden, Persephone stepped graciously into her role at court. She wooed every suitor and danced her way into the arms of Baron Mikhail Frederickson. Poor Mikhail turned up dead days later, bled dry with a lipstick stain across his cheek. Her name was never breathed at court again and she was declared a Black Widow.
    Though she would never say it, Persephone was happy for the first time in years the day her letter appeared. She wished for nothing more than time away from her family.
    .    ​

    misc.
    abilities.
    A child of one of the original vampire families, Persephone has all of the โ€˜traditionalโ€™ vampiric abilities. Inhuman speed and strength, extreme endurance and physical durability. With her ancient bloodline, however, sheโ€™s granted two very important gifts. Sunlight invulnerability and pyrokinesis. Her pyookinesis is very minor, only allowing her to hold and play with very small amounts of fire, but she would never let anyone know. To everyone else, sheโ€™s dangerous and unpredictable. To her family, Persephone is a child with a profitable gift.​

    weaknesses.
    Persephone has spent her entire life being groomed by adults. The immense pressure sheโ€™s been put under to make her family proud while battling OCD and anxiety leaves her in mental ruin- though, sheโ€™d never let anyone see her weak. She is underweight and has an alcohol addiction, but that wonโ€™t stop her from harming anyone who dares to defy her.​
    will you beg me for mercy?
    hale
    code by valen t.

 
Last edited:
Basics:
โ€ข Name - Cyril Weiss
โ€ข Age - 160
โ€ข Date of Birth - 1860
โ€ข Sexuality - Bisexual - Homoromantic - Monogamous
โ€ข Gender - Cisgender male
โ€ข Ethnicity - German-Welsh
โ€ข Species - Poltergeist
โ€ข Face Claim - Still thinking about that one.

Appearance:
โ€ข General Appearance: Upper left picture in this wonderful post:



5'5'', transparent.

โ€ข Clothing Style - Likes to ride the line between 2012 neo-Victorian and 80's business-wear in color and pattern, but is a fan of the modern business silhouette.
โ€ข Distinguishing Features - he's DEAD Aside from being transparent when not making use of a body, he doesn't quite seem to touch the ground at all times.

Personality
โ€ข General Personality - Cyril is still unable to order his thoughts. To have been so, so wrong stung, but being wrong meant he get to go on as he did before; the irony is not lost on him. The sardonicism which gripped him in adolescence returned in full force, a social manifestation of his chaotic anger and bewilderment. Determinism? Wrong. Atheism? Wrong. The divided gender structure he grew up with? Wrong. The unilateral benefits of progress? Wrong, very wrong (to be fair, he saw the previous two coming). The dominance of democracy as the structure of the new world? Wrong. The idea that humans in different places in the world had different intellectual capabilities as evinced by their more "primitive" societies? Wrong (he was nonetheless indignant about the crown's treatment of the peoples of Africa and India in life). The accepted model of gender? Wrong. He took some solace in the success of public education, welfare and the fact that old Newton and Maxwell got everyone this far, but it was little comfort in his torment.

So unstable has his understanding of the world become that he cannot even posture as a suitably stable adult in things such as morality and philosophy. All of the things he moved to hold dear were proven wrong when he woke up dead then annihilated by those who lived after him. Untethered, the floating wreckage of the edifices which survived the destruction of his purely physical understanding of his world have received a lethal dose of humble pie. He is no longer a natural philosopher and mathematician, "I am rather proficient in Algebra and the act of mathematical reasoning, for all its worth" and "it seems to the secular world that the deader aspects of nature and its proceeding develop in such a way," rather than the precise certainty with which he spoke in life, death has him flummoxed still. It is less the discovery that there is an aspect of the human mind, it seems to him in his case all of it, which survives death thus must bear some objective value in the world, than the discovery of relativity and the quantum nature of reality after he died which left him in an angry and depressed state. Godel's theorems had him weeping uncontrollably. Of course, that could have been the discovery of the state of Africa (as a direct result of his motherland's actions in tandem with the rest of Europe) coming back to haunt him.

So he drifts aimlessly in a new and confusing world in which all of the tacit structure and hierarchies of reason and morality which he failed to clean up after the fall of Christianity in his mind are maladaptions, sinking hopelessly into the growing abyss of wrongness pervading all of the things his mind, whatever it even is at this point, produces. In short, in spite of his mature knowledge of things pertaining to mathematics and physics, which he works to catch up at all times when not otherwise busy, he is experiencing the ignorance and painful discoveries of student life all over again. Next comes rebuilding.

But his Victorian sensibilities win out in many cases, keeping him sane. The tug-of-war culminates in exhaustion. Constant and pervasive agitation, perhaps not irritation, stirs his reeling thoughts. The quivering filter through which all of this bubbles up to the outside world is the assumption that meaning still exists. The prospect that he has an indeterminate amount of time to figure it out leaves him giddy with expectation, though the rest of it is steeped in terror and guilt. Though he knows he is not prepared for the chaos of the new, new-world, he will face it nonetheless with a sense of tired and austere optimism.

โ€ข Virtues - Humility of intellect, openness to change and ideas, a resistance to self-delusion, and a sense of duty and respect which befits a faculty member.
โ€ข Vices - Old fashioned (but trying not to be) thus sometimes intolerant, Christian guilt in disguise, can't come to terms with his own death b.c. it is as though it never happened, disdain for the magic and mysticism in which he now finds himself immersed.


Biography
โ€ข History - Cyril's childhood was a vivid one. Rolling hills splotched with running shadows, gangling, misty forests, low ferns and carpets of leaves covering icy loam; they were all filled with the stories of his grandmothers. The youngest of five, though not the center of attention, he most liked to garner the favor of his seniors. By some accident of nurture, Cyril was thoroughly a teacher's pet. "Dreary Cyril" was the nickname he earned with his knobby red knees, glum face, and inability to "play right" in the opinion of his peers. Social relationships suffered often, soured by the attention paid to him by the adults around whom he, his brothers and their friends occasionally played. Through this cycle of rejection and mending, finding little in the way of propinquity with those near to his age, he wandered often into the kitchen of his austere, two-story home to find his grandmother's small eyes and wiry grey hair and her thick accent. There, she would take him into the ancient past of knights and ettins, Owain and Peredur. With an easy smile, her waxy skin shone in the midday or morning, a colorful knitted towel of red and green wool sitting in her lap while she animated her Georgian evening coat of pale fabric with kind recounts of the Christianized myths. Upon the afternoon, he found them hiding under the ferns and leaves and sneaking between the grey or muddy brown boughs hunched ragged and rough under the sun made gentle by the leaves. Hugged by that lonesome primeval forest, he had nothing else to do but think and imagine.

Equipped with a well developed imagination and clear thoughts, primary education was little trouble for him. His father was proud of this fact on account of his own work. Peter Weiss, a professor of physics (as it is known today) and lecturer at the Nottingham Government School of Design, was known by his peers to be impressed -- by all of his sons and daughters -- for he spoke of them so often that his associates took to calling him 'father Peter' at the risk of blasphemy. The man was tall and gaunt, proud of himself and his sons, and most importantly for Cyril's rearing, rather distant. They met at dinner and not often at any other time. At some point, Cyril gave up on the connection. He could not possibly squeeze all of the buzzing energy, his fecund imagination, the joy of the stories his elders told, into crepuscular meetings where he would snatch attention from the jaws of his ravenous siblings. Less likely that he could, given the scarcity of Peter Weiss' focus. Cyril was not a fighter in that sense and he never entertained the idea of behaving poorly for the sake of his father's attention on account of his mother's will.

His mother, Emilia Prosser, was a dancer in a woman's college in the area. A popular teacher of ballet and ballroom with knowledge of many things in the world's cultures and possessed such a warm freedom that those around her were invigorated by her manner and conversation, and she never disappointed in that regard. Upon entering a room, it became hers. His father knew this well, loved her for it, and wished only to accompany her on such an adventure again. She would then produce an anodyne smile and admit that it was all behind her now, though Cyril could see by the way she turned her eyes at him; it was as though he asked for entrance into a secret place rudely. With her unabashed smile which wrinkled her brown eyes, she recounted her adventures to odd places to her youngest son alone, in a sitting room or private place. In Spain she was invited to a dance held in the countryside where the spirits of folks hurled themselves at their flesh and they moved thus, not by decorum and rules, "though," she warned, "the rules possess merit of the own," with a faux-stern expression and stretched finger. It was in her he found his solace when not treated kindly by the ancient ones of the house. Of all his siblings, he and she were the closest. It was she he missed the most when he was sent to a private institution to continue his education.

The news was broken to him over dinner. At that time, two of his brothers had already gone away to other schools. Cyril was to be sent to a school for boys somewhere in the north of London. Even his mother was rather excited about this, though her eyes were tinged with sadness. Good Cyril could not bring himself to resist and assented quietly, looking his father in the eyes as was polite. The flowery china which held his dinner was far more interesting to him that evening than the food itself. Two times, she had practiced sending off her children and so Cyril was subject to her most composed farewell. He can still remember the knot resting in his gut when he, misty-eyed, swallowed hard and embarked from platform seven. His red cheeks vibrated when he stepped onto the stairs with his tan suitcase, driven by the idle rumbling of the great machine or sleeping beast. He had ridden the train before on a short trip to the city for some royal something or other. Though the sheen and lines of the newer models intrigued him, there was a sense of dread in him which sat beside him and looked out the window with him the entire way to London.

He was deposited on the front door of the Montague Institute for Preparation and Primary Education by an unimpressed stagecoach driver. A huge gothic building, once manor, with tall wicked iron fences set atop a red brick retaining wall. The yard of the school was a wide expanse of grass and the odd tree, he could see little else. A tall man with a bristling mustache, not one of the strands were smoothed down, and misty glasses greeted the young man sternly at the gate, letting him in. Cyril cannot remember the conversation at all, but something about his well-mannered and good-natured (see: obedient) conduct had already impressed this reedy official. From the gate, they crossed the long path to the house, through it, and to the old servant's quarter of the building where he could already hear his peers getting along. He was introduced, they were nonplussed. After his brief introduction, probably the eighth that day and twentieth that week, a few of them attempted to converse with young Cyril. He failed every vibe check and they left him alone in his room with his roommate, a small Scottish boy with very little hair and an overbite.

It was dull, chaotic, loud and strict. At the time, Cyril could find nothing good in its appearance, in the way its dark windows glowered at him, and the wide expanse of stone intimidated him. Cyril could find nothing good either in the appearance of the most of his colleagues, with their tall wicked shapes and dark eyebrows glowering at him, and the wide expanse of muscle intimidating him. Between the ages of twelve and fifteen, Cyril was utterly renovated. His attachment to societal structure and the merits of the elders cowed his will and he accepted that of his instructors with trust. His attachments to his peers dwindled. By the end of his primary and preparatory education, he had one friend and two acquaintances. The rest of his peers either despised him because he knew what to say to appease the adults or because his teachers compared him with everyone else. There again, he had time mostly to think, without his peers to compete against in cricket or croquet. During his thinking, reading, in his reading, the refinement of his imagination; and by that terrible lineage, the embers of rebellion were cast into his mind by Prometheus, aided by Hylas, held by Heracles, freed and energized by Goethe, caught by Ptolemy, and tossed back down to Goethe who then sent him by way of a dusty old bookstore run by a mischievous old man to the wry inclined visage of Voltaire, the devil himself.

"Optimism is the madness of insisting that all is well when we are miserable." For one who lives chiefly in their own head, the most compelling metanoia occurs therein, by effect of those objects which interact with it. By the end of his primary education, Cyril walked the most generally gratifying path to disillusionment: the one who played the game, won, and then thought the game stupid. Collected over his years at that school, his people-watching relayed to him, without ego, fragments of the intellect, though worthless to the cane-wielding tyrants who handed out dunce caps and had the class' chorus of dead recitation daily, effective in other tasks than reciting arithmetic. How some boys were better than others at football, yet others croquet and track. How the minute advantages of the incline of the back and the comportment of the knee lent themselves to the victories of those who wielded them, and how better yet they were retained and refined over time and repetition, and how they seemed to be doing it on their own; it never became the subject of conversation, such that he would not know. How some others were able to see through the disciplined visage or childish and petty deceit of their peers without effort, who could hold emotion in their hands and manipulate it as they see fit. These skills were a matter of coincidence in the Victorian school. Cyril could not sleep the night of his acquisition of that unholy, blasphemous text and coupled with his growing evidence for the defunct nature of his elders' world (as he knew it), with shivering horror he realized that the man was right. Budding in his mind, the chief realizations that an edifice is useless if it is ineffective, and society is a manifestation of edifices, filled him with abject horror.

All of a sudden, everything around him became unfamiliar. The rules were sickening, the punishment for their infringement inhumane, the busts who wielded them inhuman. Dizzying, the voices of dead poets haunted him, their quotes far more grave than before. Socrates leered at him; Cyril knew him better; the dead philosopher came to him in a dream one night and asked, "do you see now? What the horsefly is for?" to which Cyril replied, "indeed I do sir, though I still do not know why you took the cup," before waking up in sweat with an inexplicable stress gripping him. All around him, his peers, though distant or hostile, became a source of utter dejection for him. Now, in class, he could see their nuances being wringed from them as though they were venomous snakes. The teachers wielded their ghostly authority and laid waste to the talents of all of their students. For one whose life travels chiefly in the mind, the most revolting crimes are those committed against it. Peers like bloody ruins chanted like ghouls back to those dreadful teachers while their conquered souls stank of the corpses of innocent whims scattered therein.

One day during the winter of his final year, Cyril collapsed in class, writhing and unable to breathe, burning with a fever. They sent for the priest first who confirmed that he was not indeed possessed. The doctor who arrived later, when the young man had been left in an exhausted daze, who examined him to find no evidence of further sickness. Cyril was lucky that, on account of his good performance and reputation, he was only sent to bed without dinner that evening for causing a scene and warned not to do it again. The shock of his apocalypse dulled the teasing attempted at him, both by the teachers and his peers. The incident did not follow him out of that institution.

Cyril carried his ills home. He returned on a grey and drizzling Tuesday, the steam of the locomotive mingling with the visual noise of the rain and made the whole thing seem like a dream. Something awful bloomed in him when he came back and saw the faces of those around him aged, more wrinkled, sallow. They sidled nearer to death before his very eyes. Grandmother Prosser died shortly after he left, in her eighties. His mother, and elder brothers who were also finished with their primary education, greeted him, either warmly or distantly and innocuously. Risibly, he shook hands with his brothers. Their austere house was turned warm by comparison to the truculent architecture of his school and became loud when he came home, filled with conversation to which he obliged more than participated. A few from the town stopped by and the dinner that night was relatively grand. Cyril had returned from his adventure of four years. His face was cold and mellow like that of the adults. He was no longer quick to smile, no longer animated. He veiled his emotions with businesslike coolness and his posture had become inflexible. Yet melancholy showed in his new way. Lurking in the corners of his eyes and tacit in the expression of his new ideas, Cyril displayed the coldness of winter, not of marble and industry. Of desperation and decline, his arms moved with the eidolon; quicker now, he asked questions of his elders nearer to confrontation and questioning, though deftly removed anything which would warrant an argument. There came a certain angry sardonicism in his manner. The teacher's pet had run away.

He spent little time at home, it turns out. His eldest brother became a banker, the next apprenticed to a glass-maker. One of his sisters, the next eldest, married a laughable old man from the area whom Cyril could not stand. His mother was unamused. In a sitting room on the north side of the house, his mother and he resumed their daily salon. Where once there was much mirth and laughter, they spoke of gloom and refined ideas. At one point, he asked in earnest, "it's all horrible, isn't it?" to which she replied with a sad laugh, "you haven't discovered even the half of it, dear."

It was his mother who posed the idea of leaving for university. She detected in him a freedom of intellect rather than of spirit; had he the latter, she would have sent him to Rome. It took little coaxing from her to his father. He posed the idea as well and Peter Weiss took it quite seriously (since Cyril fibbed that it was because he wanted to do what his father did). Within the year, they began the process of applying for Oxford. At the time, there were only a few full universities, the School of Design, though highly reputable, was more like a technical college. It took another year for him to be accepted after an arduous process of trains to and fro, tests and interviews. Not that there were many, but that they had to be present for every one. One may be tired by the whole process, but Cyril was not. The Utilitarians were gaining steam and their platform seemed utterly reasonable to him, not to mention the rumors of radical rationalists in the universities suggesting that all the species of the earth metamorphosed from others. Cyril was intrigued by both. The idea that the Earth changed over protracted lengths was well regarded, not that anyone knew yet what to make of it.

Quickly, he found friends with the mutual recognition of the light of rebellion. Among atheists and Darwinists, utilitarians and those who believed in gender equality, he held salons and lunches, discussing such blasphemous ideals, in all of which he found merit. Though he did not feel compelled to join them in their debauchery on the muddy streets of London, they were his confidants and connections, study group and support structure. The latest theories delivered by lecture drove him away from the superstition and religion of his adolescence. The sheer completeness of the theories of motion, of the calculus of moving objects, of Euler's breakthroughs and their use in James Clerk Maxwell's bombshell discovery, it all nailed the coffin shut as far as his belief in the afterlife and Christianity. Though he attended church as an exercise (indeed one must be a member of the Church of England to attend Oxford), he would leave it to hold salon with the natural philosophers who taught him of the slow formation of the mountains and volcanoes, and theories of the origins of earthquakes. There, he eventually found his end midway through his second year.

There was a tall man with black hair, a commanding presence, a grand smile, and lovely blue eyes. Cyril and he found some attraction, the sort which dominates memory and thought for a few days, and is mutually clear in the traded gestures and stares. One evening, Brandon Withelby approached young Cyril on the balcony during a wonderful soirรฉe some distance away from the center of London. There, they were caught in a very wet kiss by someone who was not so partial to their manner of friendship. In a fit of panic, Brandon, who was quite aghast at the poor reaction of their peer, accidentally shoved Cyril off of the balcony. He was found dead on the ground with a broken neck and buried a few days later near his hometown in Nottingham. It was a Christian burial, for the nature of his acquaintance with Brandon Withelby, who attended his funeral morosely, was not exposed, and it was ruled a horrible accident by "each of the four witnesses present."

One could imagine the shock of the atheist, naturalist and 'natural philosopher' Cyril when he woke up at the sound of loud scratching, experiencing a sensation one could hardly describe. The splintering of wood and the sudden blinding light breaching his senses distracted him entirely from his vague memories and odd situation. One can imagine the shock of the grave robbers when the corpse they revealed gasped and exclaimed, "what the name of God are you up to?!" in a raspy and indignant manner. Neither of them bothered to scream, they just dropped their equipment, flashlight and shovels, and scurried away. Cyril sat up in his coffin and looked around, wide-eyed, their dull brown nearly shivering with the sensation of sensing. All his movements felt simultaneously restricted and light, as though his entire body were submerged in water. He stood up as though by will itself, the weight of the earth's gravity lost upon him. He found himself in a deep hole, surrounded by headstones. Memories flooded back. He looked down and saw flesh blackened by age resting in vague pieces on bones. Nothing but bones wearing the same clothes as he. The lad, in conniption at this point, strode away from the scene wailing in confusion and stumbled to the gate of Nottingham General Cemetery in the middle of the night, waning crescent moon high.

Then, a gentleman in odd garb: a horrifying, baggy red top of some material unknown to Cyril and a black hat of duck-like design bearing a crest and the title, "Royal Mail" in a manner of print he was unfamiliar with, handed Cyril a letter.

"For you sir," he said gently, the upper part of his face cast in shadow both by the night and the bill of that hat. Cyril's Victorian training took over and he smiled and received it graciously, "my thanks sir, good day," and allowed the gentleman on his way. After a moment of realization, glancing at the letter, the man walked past him. Cyril gasped and turned, shouting "wait!" to thin air. Then, he sat down with his face in his hands. It was then that a distant roar filtered over to him from everywhere at once. He looked up and found the sky glowing with lights, the night above him devoid of stars, and odd machines and architecture all around him and far in the distance. He sat there for days clutching the letter, pondering and considering while people walked through him. While in primary school, the structure and nature of society became unfamiliar while the appearance and visage of it remained the same, here the opposite took place. Cyril would have laughed if not for his entire worldview being destroyed.

It was nearly four months of holding on to that letter and stewing in his own confusion before he managed to stumble his way to Morrican to investigate the only sensible connection he still had to the living world. Morose and angry, Cyril shambled down the streets, uncomfortable with flight and the act of moving through walls. He even bothered many psychics on the way; of the twelve, nine did not seem to react, one asked him to leave, and the other two squinted at him as though he were a smudge on a fine plate. He carried his maimed Victorian ego all the way to the school itself.



โ€ข Abilities - Cyril can manipulate physical objects, mess with electromagnetic fields and possess living creatures (and sometimes the corpses of dead ones).
โ€ข Weaknesses - Cyril is vulnerable to various rituals and objects which are meant to ward off spirits, averse to liturgy (though that was true in life as well), and new to being a ghost, meaning that if there is indeed such a thing as a ghost food-chain, he is at the bottom. Also, cats and dancers.
 
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