Morte
Countess of Death
Just a few guidelines for CS:
1. Please no anime face claims. Real face claims only or realistic drawings.
2. You can either make a teacher or student.
3. You can make as many characters as you prefer.
4. Your characters can be any age.
5. Your characters can be in their fourth year or first year--up to you.
6. Your character does not have to be a hero. They can be on a dark path toward being a villain.
Basics
Name: Genevieve Adelaide Walters
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Bisexual
Alias/mutant name: Stryker
Age:18
School Year/Teacher? Senior
Appearance
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 5’6
Weight: 106 lbs
Body Type: Petite
Personality
Personality (paragraph form please):
Likes (3+): Bitter Chocolate / Coffee / Thunderstorms
Dislikes (3+): Sweeets / Candy / Fake Personalities
Fears (3+): Heights / Failure / Clowns
Biography
Biography (paragraph form please): Born into a normal family - she found herself isolating her self from the rest of the children in her neighborhood. There were moments when she would get angry at the kid next door and throw a tricycle at him without using her hands. Little did she know that she had a beautiful gift called telekinesis. Years passes and it only had gotten worse.. that was until she met the staff of this school and everything started to slowly get back under control.
Power/skills/abilities: telekinesis / black smoke
Weaknesses: water
Writing Sample
Oh, baby, don’t cry. He loved you like he loved his God.
He worshipped you.
Suffocated you.
He adored you,
treated you how he knew best.
Until you open your pretty little mouth -
Running secrets all over town like the floodwaters,
he shoved your head under the current,
forcing you to take your last breath.
yet, you were still his God.
Amen.
Rotting flesh - gentle hands. Cold water - reprimands. The low orange glow of the New Orleans bar brought the woman’s honey eyes down lower that they would normall look - there was an intoxicating warmth that radiated from every corner of the room. Even in the corners where men and women smashed faces with two drinks down and they dare say that they were not ‘shitfaced’. Messy hands and broken hearts trying to be cleaned, mended, and fixed with a shot of tequila and a little luck. Heavy swinging hips approached the bar top, the blackened skirt hugging the cruves of the rather bold woman. Although, with locks of firey red hair and a pair of amber eyes - there was nothing stopping her from getting what she wanted. Spoiled? Maybe. Rarely ever considered these days. Long curls of frizzy tresses cascaded down the small of her back - the only slight giveaway that something might be up were the anatomical stitches for a mortician that ran up her chest, down her arms, and along her neck.. she was a walking Frankenstein’s monster, ‘..Gin and tonic - the closest you’ve got to gasoline..‘ Her voice echoed from the walls with alll the brightness of a lemon but the mellowness of sweet molasses. She was a southern belle - a sweet peach ready to be picked and taken back to be eaten.
Beautiful little girl.
Notable Relationships
Any relationships notable to your story?
None.
