Dream Weavers (rated R for mature)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Hydronine, Sep 2, 2009.

  1. (Tatu – All the Things She Said, remix [ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzzXnGSoddM&feature=related"]YouTube - Tatu - All The Things She Said (DJ Sputnik Remix)[/ame] )

    Julia sat in her college class, watching the teacher with a bored expression on her face. Her eyes were fighting to close, while her mind and brain kept telling her that, even though this was an extremely boring lecture, she just couldn’t sleep through it, the professor might say something useful…eventually… There was also the problem of the chemicals in her system. The Dream Weavers had given her a kit of seven syringes. Each syringe had enough medication in them to keep her awake for forty-eight hours. She was on the fifth syringe today, and had four to go. Her body ached and all she wanted was to sleep. Just even for a moment.

    Her head dropped for a second, eyes closing. Then it snapped back up, eyes wide as she tried her hardest to stay awake. She couldn’t sleep yet. Not until Swiit Driemz was completely out of her system. And when the tests results came back, they’d know more about what happened, hopefully, the drug hadn’t screwed up her body in any way. The other problem was that she was still unable to control her thoughts as well as they’d like her to. She had to be able to achieve lucid dreaming or that freaky thing would happen again. They were surprised to find that she had been partially awake during the whole incident. She had seen her own dream beast, and could feel its fur as it curled itself around her, as if it had been resting. When it stood, she was amazed by its size. She had reached for it and the beast sat by her, letting her touch its fur.

    ( [ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHP5_awxHlE&feature=related"]YouTube - Undivided - Solid State Society OST[/ame] )

    Julia thought of that memory, remembering the amazing feeling of that…. Thing’s fur. It was softer than anything else, and it was warm. They, the Dream Weavers, had told her that the beast was a part of her most innerself. That drug had only helped it come forward. The only problem was that the creature was unstable, and had growled and almost attacked a cop when he had the unfortunate luck of having shined a flashlight at it. It had only stopped because Julia had woken up from the shock of seeing it about to maul an innocent policeman who was just doing his job and walking around campus, inspecting to make sure no one was stealing anything or sneaking in.

    Being able to wake up after only four hours of being locked into the drug was a surprise on its own. But either way, she needed to be able to control her beast better….

    “Soft……black…..fur….. and….red eyes…” She muttered to herself, two of her classmates turned their heads to look at her for a moment, thinking she was crazy. And they were right, because she swore that she could feel that creature’s giant muzzle on her back, sniffing her, then nosing her, like some animals do when they picked up that someone was distressed. It rubbed its massive head on her side and arm, and she stiffened up, fearful. It had stopped right then. She couldn’t feel it anymore…. She shuddered, afraid of what was going on, afraid of what she might be turning into.

    She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and texted the info to one of the Dream Weavers. She drew pictures of foxes while she waited, trying to pay attention to the professor again. She tried to take notes, but she was still thinking of things other than this class, it was hard to pay attention.

    [Get out of class, now. Tell them you’re sick or something, get here, now.]

    She re-read the text a couple times, then gulped. Was it that serious? She then thought of what had happened to her life just in this one week and started to feel genuinely sick, and she milked it for all it’s worth. She then ran out of class with her things under her arms, green with the fact that she felt as if she was going to vomit. She went to the bathroom, then came out, wiping her mouth and then asked one of her friends to take her to the warehouse where the Dream Weavers had stationed themselves. It hadn’t taken long and she was soon before them all of them except for one, and they all looked a tad worried…..maybe more than a “Tad”….


    “Sir, you can’t be serious, there is no way….. Sir, the tests came back…. The drug that we’re dealing with, it’s not the original “Swiit Dreimz”…. It’s a modified version, a highly modified version. “ a meek female voice timidly orated from behind a microscope, she was checking the two strains again by hand, herself, even though the test results were already back. She was in disbelief that it was a different strain, yet here it was.

    “What’s the difference?” A man asked, the fear in his voice evident, he sat near her, leaning forward in his char, towards her, anxious.

    “Sir…. We need to contact the police… This strain is able to be used as an inhalant…. You can put it in a canister and spray it like eff’n spray paint….. and with the way it looks now….. Sir, we just got to contact the police….” She murmured softly, there was a clicking sound, like she had just put a pen down, then the rustle of papers as if she was going through a file.

    “We can’t do that….. Remember how they reacted the last time we called them? They told us to stay out of their job…..” The man sounded miffed, but calm. “Show me your findings, I need to see this for myself.” He muttered and walked over to the darker side of the room, flipping a switch, the dark was instantly illuminated. The woman was young and fitted with a long white trench-coat that was apparently her “scientist” garb. She protested to the light, her lips pulled back and he practically expected her to growl or snarl at him.

    “TURN THAT OFF! IT HURTS MY EYES!” She shrieked and he flipped the switch again, she sighed, back in her comfort zone. The man felt his way over to her and looked through the scope not liking what he saw.

    “Sorry about that…..Matilda….. we need a better sample of this for you….” The man muttered, annoyed.

    “We can’t if we don’t……” Matilda began, timidly.

    “I’ll send one of our members over to try and get some from a drug dealer…. I suppose in the process, we can make it a sting operation if needed… This IS YOUR drug, after all, we need to get it to you…” He defended his point, stubbornly.

    “I never meant for this….” Apologetically, she looked up at him, and he could still just barely see her in the dark.

    “It’s ok, You were only doing your job…. But we do need to talk, as you said…. And how are the tests results on the new kid?” He stated, factually.

    “….. Her body reacted badly to the drug… It went into a fever….. and we got their quick enough for there not to be any fatal damage…but… certain parts of her brain are literally fried…. And she has a heart murmur now…. She’ll survive, though…. It’s a small comfort in these times, She probably won’t be able to control her speech very well, the impulse control for that…well, it’s done, as well as parts of the brain that help with decision-making, I’m going to suggest that someone act as her guardian…. She’s unable to face her parents about this, so they’re out….and she doesn’t have sibiings that she wants to talk to…. Try and see if you can work something out… I just… don’t trust her judgment… I’m afraid something will happen, and It’s not a good idea to let her be on her own….”

    The man nodded and headed off after giving Matilda a peck on the lips, whispering “I love you” in her ear. She smiled then got back to work, while, down the hall , the man called the police and explained what was going on. They needed to know how bad this would get…. He just hoped that they wouldn’t hinder the process of helping the victims…
  2. FBI Washington DC Office
    Press Room...

    Reporters spoke among each other as they waited for the director of the FBI to come out and make a statement. The drug Swiit Dreims had become as much a problem for the Bureau as it had for the DEA. With recent events in Africa and Russia, the CIA and Department of Homeland Security found themselves involved in the overall investigation.

    CIA was convinced that the drug was a new scheme by Al Queda or the North Koreans while DHS was convinced that the Colombian drug cartels were involved. Cameras began flashing as Director Todd Simmons enterred, flanked by the Director of the DEA and the head of Homeland Security.

    "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, we have reached a consensus regarding the designer drug Swiit Dreims." Simmons began, an Agent adjusting his earpiece.

    "The FBI, in conjunction with the CIA, DEA, and Homeland Security, have determined that this drug is a threat to the United States. We have deployed investigation teams to areas that have been affected by the hallucinations created by this drug, as have counterpart agencies across the world. With their combined findings we should be able to isolate the origins of this substance and wipe it out." Reporters began asking Simmons questions, trying to speak over each other, the Director motioning for them to calm down.

    "We'll release another statement in a week's time. For now that is all we can say." he finished, stepping away from the podium. Reporters pressed for further answers from Simmons as he and the directors of DHS and DEA left.

    "They'll press for more, you know." Director Ramos of Homeland Security said as the door closed.

    "I'm well aware of that..." Simmons replied, loosening his tie.

    "Speaking of which, what has Russian FSB* said about the tank incident?" Director Alder of the DEA asked.

    "Same thing they would have said twenty years ago. 'We're looking into it' is the official response."

    "You'd have thought the Cold War never ended." Ramos commented, taking out a pack of Marlboros.

    "No shit..." Simmons replied, pushing a door open. "Alder, are your teams in place?" Director Alder stepped through first, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

    "They've forward deployed, the investigation teams and the Tac Teams." Alder replied. "Once our investigators find where the distribution points are we'll be able to find the suppliers and take them out."

    "If only it was that easy." Ramos interjected. "One of the things they taught me in S.E.A.L.s is that the only easy day is yesterday."

    *FSB: Federal Security Bureau. Formerly known as KGB.
  3. The pager at his belt beeped, causing dark-haired John Corpuz at halt in the middle of a very delicate enterprise. The elegant blonde draped on his couch ceased nipping at the corner of his mouth. He wished she hadn't. The blonde sent him a withering, much-maligned frown of disappointment...with a sigh that spoke of frequent exposure to these sorts of interruptions.

    "Are you going to get that, Doctor Corpuz?" she asked dryly.

    John cleared his throat and extricated himself from the tangle of limbs and couch drapings, buttoning up his shirt. He swiftly checked the pager and dialed a return number on his cellphone-PDA. "Doctor Corpuz. This had better be good," he grumbled. His mood darkened as he listened to a case report on his latest patients. They were teenagers hooked on that Swiit Driems concoction, the effects of which were driving them down a dark lane. "Put them on IV methylphenidate, half milligram per kilogram. Make sure you get their weight. I want you checking in on them every thirty minutes--vitals and dosing. Do not let them fall asleep."

    He hung up and looked at his female companion. "I...."

    The woman huffed and pulled her blouse shut. "I know, Jack." A hand ran through her hair, a sigh came from her lips. "Look, this isn't going to work out. You're too...busy. And the work you do...its great and all, but I need...I need someone there."

    John's shoulders slumped, but the bite of her words wasn't as deep as he let on. He'd heard it far, far too many times before. He walked her to the door, called down a cab, and even paid the fare in advance. He'd done it before.

    The drive to the hospital was uneventful; he didn't even think about his failed evening with a beautiful woman, given how acclimated he was to it. Checking in on his patients was equally uneventful; the orders he gave over the phone were enough to stablize his teenaged charges for now. It seemed that as long as they stayed awake, they were fine.

    It was Swiit Driems, of course. The root of the recent epidemic of sleep-related problems. John had been following the medical literature on the drug like a vulture over a carcass for months, ever since pharmacologists and researchers started seeing unusual chemical interactions with the body's normal hormonal functions.

    On his drive back to his far-too-lonely apartment and its far-too-empty bed, John saw a man in a dark trench coat standing in the middle of the road. The doctor slammed on his brakes, stopping mere meters from running the coated man over.

    John sprang out of the car in a fury. "Hey, guy! What the hell? You wanna get killed?"

    The dark-coated man, features shouded in the night, bemusedly answered, "Not at all, Doctor Corpuz."

    "How do you--"

    "On the contrary, its not dying that interests me," the man continued, without missing a beat. "Specifically, your valiant attempts to save those who have fallen to the drug known as Swiit Driems. I represent a group that has need of your compassion, interest, and expertise. I represent the Dream Weavers...."
  4. "cannae git anudder wodka n redbu ples" Nick slurred, though even as drunk as he was he could tell the bartender wasnt going to comply
    "You've had enough as it is lad, I can't give you no more, jsut sit down up the back there and dont'cha make too much of a fuss on your way there" the Bartender, a kindly Old Irish man in his late sixties, a Patrick O'Reilly said, his tone more kind than firm, but the drunken Nick nodded
    'Kay Pat, ken yu jus make shur i dun foll aslip kay? I dun trust anywun buht yu an dokta oldmate, um, wateva his name is" Nick slurred, his body trying to fall asleep and wake up at the same time, his paranoid fear of falling asleep prevailing over his intoxiation for the time being, though soon he would pass stuble up the starts of the hotel/pub and pass out on his bed, as he had done for the past week and a half.

    "Alright lad, you've got yourself a deal, jsut keep yourself out of trouble, those bastards put you in enough as it is" Patrick had taken to waking the twenty year old up every couple of hours, and most mornings Nick, despite having a throbbing hangover, offer to help Patrick Clean the pub, walk to the shops to get firewood and other chores in payment for the old man's hospitality, though Patrick would often just shake his head and laugh, telling the now sober Nick to clean himself up, as when he woke the boy, it was usualy in the midst of a bad memory, a memory which Patrick knew all to well.
  5. Was it wrong? To want to dream forever?

    On the far side of town she lay on her bed, smothered by the heat of her room as she stared at the clock. She was so tired, so tired, so tired-but-couldn't-sleep. Her eyes watered and the bright-lit numbers wavered and began to dance until she squeezed them shut and prayed it would stop and rolled over to stare at the ceiling instead.

    She felt dizzy. Excited. Drunk, though she hated drinking, yet it still felt good in a terrifying way. She felt like she was standing on the very edge of a drop so far, it stole all the breath from her. To topple over the edge was sheer madness.

    Her eyes closed, slid closed, so slowly like curtains over the window and the moon rising over the hill. Exhaustion overcame her and the heat in her bones that made her skin shiny and slick with sweat, and finally, at last, she fell into sleep.

    To topple over the edge was sheer madness, but she did it anyway for the thrill.


    It was the burning coil of powerful muscles as it ran so fast running and running and running-and-running-and-running, claws tearing the earth apart and body sinuously sliding through the forest like the viridian shadow of a serpentine beast, and it flew forward so fast she knew it would dash itself to pieces if it didn't turn fast enough didn't turn didn't turn didn't TREE-

    Flash to the left and it was past and safe and gone and she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but the body wasn't hers to breathe with. It opened it's mouth and the air tasted thick and rich on a tongue that was fleshy but too thin too thin by far-

    STOP. Taste the air, taste the warmth of flesh and hot breath and soft skin so easy to break and tear and
    dash off again because it's so close so close so-very-very-close-don't-let-it-get-away!


    Breaking news! Reports of a man-like dinosaur appearing in the local natural park! The creature attacked campers in the local park late last night, killing two and severely maiming a third before vanishing. It is described as a seven-foot lizard with the face of a man, and eight-inch claws on each foot... It is believed that this is yet another incident related to the drug called Swiit Driemz. Police have not yet identified the particular individual responsible for this, and this is the second attack to occur in this particular county...

  6. [​IMG][​IMG]
    Name: Cynthia Seare

    Hair Color: Red
    Eye Color:Amber
    Height: 5'6"
    Profession: Secretary, Adventuress

    Personality and Motivation: Flirty, open, and surprisingly honest for one of her type, Cynthia is the ultimate “girls just wanna have fun” kind of woman, with a healthy side of “what can I do to piss my dad off?” and the base trickery that no partial demon could ever forsake fully.

    Origin Story: Well you see, my dad is this super hot (pun probably intended) demon who can appear to be however he wants but generally the kind of guy that makes girls drool like Chris Hemsworth. He shacked up with my mother, who was already kind of crazy but having a demon kid kind of put her over the edge and the last I heard of her she's mainly catatonic with moments where of pure clarity now and then. I try not to visit her, it just triggers a lot of screaming. I spent the first thirteen years of my life literally in Hell, learning how to be a bad little demon. Now I'm living topside full time and doing my best to be as human-like as possible, because it really pisses my dad off that I prefer mom's side of the family as far as my interactions.

    Racial Abilities and Weakness: Cynthia is a half-succubus, but since her father is Prince Seare, she also has some decent hellfire wielding abilities and is far, far faster than human, Additionally she can go “down below” and shift to the plane her father comes from then back to the upper world. She travels the distance between where she is and where she wants to go in the other world and then reappears, seemingly teleporting. This has a range of a few hundred yards at best. She has some minor shape shfiting abilities but rarely uses them. She can enter Holy ground because she's half human but her powers are unavailable to her there and it makes her very uncomfortable and irritable. Someone with true faith can give her pause but she's not repelled. “It's like flashing high beams in my face, looking at someone like that.” Holy water affects her much like pepper spray or mace would a human.

    Accounting, Library Use – These skills she acquired from learning via her temp agency. When she puts her mind to it, she's an excellent secretary.

    Bargain, Fast-Talk, Gather Information, Persuade – Cynthia came naturally to any skills that let her manipulate people and gain information from them due to her demonic heritage.

    Climb, Dodge, Enhanced Stamina, Grapple, Jump,Stealth - The reason Cynthia survived her half brothers and sisters (all 12 of them) wrath as a child was due to picking up and honing these skills. Her childhood was spent often fighting for her life or hiding from someone.

    Mythos (Demons, The Host, Troll Markets, Unseelie Accords) - Cynthia knows a lot about her people, her people's main enemies, and where to find cool stuff the Mundanes don't have. And most importantly, how not to piss things or people off who could make her live miserable or end it.

    Other Language (Demonic Subtext, Latin), These languages were pretty much required for her to learn.

    Perception – Cynthia is especially observant, which was really a survival mechanism for her.

    Equipment: Computers, usually. She doesn't generally carry weapons, and she has a small 2-seater sports car.

    Character Relationships: Most of the time, her relationships are very brief and she moves from one to another quickly. She would like to have a steady 'gal-pal' or maybe even a lover that could keep up with her but she hasn't found either yet.
  7. I'm a little curious to see what others will bring.
  8. Nick awoke, several hours later, his brain seeming as though it desired to seperate itself from the rest of his body in that its throbbeding was savage in intensity
    "fuck" the Australian groaned softly, elongating the middle of the word so that it sounded alot more like faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaark than anything else, and as he slithered out of the bed legs first, so that he didn't have to roll over or do all that much to stand, fe felt his head seem to spin slightly, which only seved to make the throbbing intensify, which in itself illicited another swearing outburst.
    ugh moi facking heaaaaaad again the Australian 'bogan' accent revealed itself, though the 'eaaaaaaaad' was more of a croak than words.

    padding softly to the rooms ensuite/bathroom/toilet-with-a-bath-n-shower-in-it-room Nick swayed slightly as he searched through the medicine cabinet
    band-aids, pimple cream shiit, no-fucking-clue-what-that-is,oldmate cream...Ah Ritalin, thats part one....now, wheres me fucking panadol......
    The Bogan Accent refused to part with the hungover Australian, as he narrated his search through the medicine cabinet, popping the 40mg LA tablet into his mouth and swallowing it without the aid of a glass of water, though as with all of hsi hungover exploits, it only half worked, and Nick stooped down to slurp some water from the tap, grimacing as he bent down, his head protesting the movement vigourosly.
    "right, had me meds, had some water, cant have panadol 'cause there's prolly still grog in me blood, right, time to get the fuck over it and start the day....eh fuck that, ill go drink some more water, then have some bacon-n'-fuckin-eggs, that'l fix me right up!" Nick Fumbled around, sitting down every now and then to nurse his aching head, though after around an hour and a half he had showered, dried himself and put on new clothes, not to mention grabbing his wallet, Ipod, Gas Mask (which he only refrained from wearing because of the intensity of his migraine, which still felt as though his head was tearing itself apart) and his backpack, before sauntering out of his room, and heading for the outside exit of the Pub

    "G'mornin Lad, dreamless night last night" the Irish-American's Voice was full of humor and only a hint of mockery
    "Mornin Pat, sorry 'bout last night, i let myself get way too pissed again didnt I?" Nick half mumbled sheepishly, trying not to let Patrick known of his hangover, though the barman saw right through the weak facade, and his grin grew even wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief
    "Can't pull the wool over me eyes that easily lad, but i won' keep ye any longer, go get yerself some breakfast, even if it is 10 oclock in the mornin" Pat said with a chuckle, for the msot part putting on the accent, for some reason it seemed to make Nick appear calmer, not to mention it was good for a laugh every now and then.
    "Cheers, see you later today Pat" Nick said cheerfully, heading out into the bright sunlight
  9. Already watched ;;;
  10. image (open)


    Minori S. Pendragon

    Legend/Folklore Motif



    Blackwood is a burgeoning town on the outskirts of Glaurung's territory. Started by colonists with deep traditional values, what its grown into is a sort of modern anachronism. Its darkened streets and walls are manned by a guard who takes after the Samurai, rigorous and disciplined as they keep watch over the citizens within. The current captain of the guard is a man by the name of Artorious Pendragon, and his stalwart will and kind nature made him beloved by the townsfolk, the sort of captain even the criminal class in the town's walls has respect for along with its fear. So when his child, Minori, took after his father and joined the guard at the young age of sixteen, not only was nobody surprised, they expected them to follow in their father's footsteps and perhaps even take their turn as captain of the guard in the years to come.

    That seemed to be the path Minori set for themselves as well. Even from a young age, they were kind, disciplined, and loved to practice sword work with their father. But there was more as well. They found quickly that a warm word in a wanting ear could be just as effective as the stern look Artorious favored in getting his way. They breezed through school, always surrounded by a gaggle of friends who whispered the days gossip in their ear and were rewarded with a warm smile and proper praise, along with the occasional gift or such when their father's allowance allowed for such. Initially, being in charge of their own little empire of the playground had poor effect on them, but as they got older, Minori had to start and wonder. Their father was a great man, kind, clever, and firm against evil in all its forms. Why was it that he was relegated to simply moving soldiers from place to place, and putting himself in danger while the honestly lazy and probably corrupt mayor sat in his hall, taking what he willed and uncaring of the people he ruled over. Minori's keen eyes had noticed changes in the years. Despite the White Fang never gaining a root in Blackroot, their enemy had decided the town was worth their trouble. An occasional guard contigent their father was forced to accept with a familiar hand tattooed on their arms. Faunus citizens disappearing in the night. No, dark things were coming, and what better man than Atorious Pendragon to make it right?

    All Minori had to do was get rid of the current mayor first.

    They joined the guard as part of their plan. They would need fighters for this, which mean willing ears for honeyed words, just as when they were a child. But when you play such a game, one is always taking a risk, and one soul just a little too loyal to the wrong idea took Minori's whisper to the mayor himself.

    Needless to say, he was displeased.

    It was too soon as well. Minori knew they were not skilled enough to yet lead what followers they did have into battle, and they knew Artorious was far too honorable a man for such a plot. So when they were marched to the stand, they improvised, with a calm, cocky smile as they explained that their plot was to kill both Artorious and the mayor, and take the entire town of blackwood for themselves under their wing. It was only due to their grief stricken father asking still for mercy after learning that 'truth' that Minori was not executed on the spot, and was instead exiled into the wilds, never to return to Blackwood again.


    Clarent: Given to Minori by their father for their fifteenth birthday, Clarent is an oldschool, dust tempered katana. Nothing fancy about it outside of its sheer edge and hardened, nigh unshatterable blade. Passed down the Pendragon line for GENERATIONS

    Deck of Treachery: Skilled as Minori is with a blade, their true tool of combat is what at first appears to be a simple deck of cards with a muted swirling design on their back. In actuality, the cards are made of a flexible but tough metal with razor sharp edges, designed to be thrown. Minori wears gloves and handles them lightly except during throws to keep from cutting themselves on the edges.

    Each of the suites has a different dust infused into the cards and has a different effect when thrown and activated with a tiny flare of aura. They're kept in a holster of sorts at Minori's side, and they're skilled at drawing and throwing cards in a quick action. If they had a sense of fair play, they'd have 52 cards. That is not the case, and often they keep cards hidden in sleeves, socks, inside their gloves, behind their hair, and other surprise places. There is however only one of each Ace, due to how expensive those are to replace and how unlikely they are to be getting an allowance again any time soon. Canny opponents could note that while in the air the cards glow faintly with the type of dust they're infused with, but only ever briefly

    Hearts: Red dust infused, explode on impact. Ace: really big explosion

    Diamonds: Blue dust infused, freezes chunks of whatever they hit. Ace: much bigger freezing effect, could briefly hold something even the size of a nevermore or trap some poor hunter for a long period of time.

    Clubs: purple dust infused, person who's aura charged them can change their direction with a conscious thought once. If more than one is in the air, the thought changes the direction of all of them since there's no way for the aura to differentiate. Ace: Hits like a semi truck instead of a sharpened card on impact.

    Spades: yellow dust infused, shock targets. Ace: turns into a straight up lighting bolt


    Treacherous echo: With a brief moment of concentration, Minori can call upon their semblance to create a temporal clone of themself that lasts a few seconds (ten at max) and repeats an action they had taken in the last ten minutes or so. If the two would overlap, it doesn't work. Any wounds a clone receives is sent back through time to apply to Minori as well. They can create up to four temporal clones at once, but whatever strain they used the first time to do the action applies again when the clone does it, so using it too liberally will tire Minori out quickly.

    Notable Attributes and Fighting Style

    Minori is of average strength and speed, and slightly below average endurance, but makes up for it with sheer, natural skill with the blade and aim with cards along with a stern training regiment from their father. Besides, fair fights are for suckers

    Motivation to join Valhalla

    To be a good little exile and do something proper with their life, with absolutely no plans to return one day and set Blackwood's mayor on fire and kick him down a flight of stairs :)


    -Their semblance unlocked at a very young age. They usually used it to get to the cookie jar on the high shelf by giving themselves a boost

    -Has a nasty temper but is good at keeping all their rage interalized

    -Absolutely adores dogs and cats

    -mother died in childbirth

    -A huge fan of stage magic and works it into their combat style

    -Also secretly loves boxing despite focusing on swordsmanship. More than one illegal boxing ring was 'graced' by Daddy's little angel while they were still in Blackwood.

    -Has a distant cousin in Vale who really likes rock and roll

    -Bit of a flirt, though with enough tact to point it where it won't cause offense. Usually.​
  11. Lilith groan, "I know his history, I was there. Alright, what do you want me to do about it? Diablo has been known to do whatever he likes and he can't be seduced."
  12. And I replied earnestly @LuckycoolHawk9