Please don't ask. Grumpycat Colonel Meow Grumpycat A cat that is grumpy Blah blah blah cat. Blah blah blah stuff. Colonel Meow A cat that is scary Blah blah blah cat. Blah blah blah stuff. The 'Perfect' Monster The Wraith Eater The Shadow in the Mirror The Chosen Witch The Unwilling Apotropaic Kietsayl Horror / Multidimensional / Fantasy / Multiple Timeframes Character Information Kietsayl: As vain as he is horrifying, Kietsayl is an ancient, multidimensional creature. Some may think him naga, incubus, even kelpie, but Kietsayl is simply Kietsayl. He has no true home, no true place in space or time, as he may dive to past or future, one world to the next, using the River that Pierces the Worlds. He fuels himself with the souls of the humans and supernatural creatures that he devours, and whisks himself away for the next world to perturb. However, it all comes with a price. Despite his self-supposed 'perfection', all beings have a Curse. Kietsayl's is his name. Should his name, a strange, living thing, be stolen by magical means, or otherwise, he is bound to his captor until their death do they part. Age: Old - number is not feasible, as he moves through time and space at a constant rate. Powers: Can dive into any body of water that can fit the width of his shoulders, bathtub included, and reach "The River that Pierces the Worlds", which whisks him away to another time or place; can shift between a human form and his true form; moves quickly on land or in water; has sharp claws and teeth with which to render things apart; can, at closer range, suck the souls from living creatures. Weaknesses: Overtly vain, to an extreme fault; easily offended; his own name is his Curse; can be manipulated by the sly; his human form is more vulnerable to death; impulsive; self-centered; difficult to make emotional connections. Appearance: True Form - pale, thin flesh stretched over a head like a horned-animal's skull, lined with sharp teeth. Head is flanked by a mane filled with plumes of seaweed-esque tendrils. Eyes are like pearls. Chest/arms are very muscular, lower body is long and serpentine, colored with black and dark blue splotches. Reared, he reaches 9'3". Human Form - Tall, down to 6'2", fit. Flesh is pale, with the occasional freckle, and has the appearance of always being slightly wet. Face is angular and masculine, framed by short, wild, black hair. Eyes have the appearance of a 'rushing river'. Plump lips. Plot Bunnies/Pairings/Notes Pairing: I really, really want to do this with a possible romantic or 'sweet' background. I was hoping maybe a character that is a little bit too soft for the world and needs physically protected. A character that Kietsayl could toughen. Conversely, I want a character that is strong enough - not weak in the head! - to file down some of Kietsayl's sharp edges. The characters grow and change, supporting each other's journey, consciously or not. Pairing: May work well with someone who is immune to magic or has no soul. Plut Bunny: Somehow, your character comes into possession of Kietsayl's name. Maybe they've done absolute copious amounts of research to find it; maybe they killed someone for it; maybe a magical being that they'd helped in the past gave it to them as thanks. Whatever the reason, they have it, and they may or may not know what they're doing with it, but once they call his name, he is summoned to them, and their bond cannot be undone. (Or can it?) Various applications for this. Kateri "Kate" White Horror / Modern Fantasy / Supernatural / Exorcism Character Information Kate: She often works very loosely with supernatural organizations that are designed to keep the Otherworld and this world in check. Their tedious relationship often dances around her extraordinary ability to absorb wraiths - monstrous, otherworld creatures - into her body and use them to her own means. Otherwise, she takes freelancing jobs to deal with exorcisms and otherwise pesky ghosties. All the while, her steps are dogged by raving fanatics and a creature in a mirror. The wraiths do have an existing background lore, so we would have to go over it briefly. Age: 25 Powers: Can absorb wraiths into her own body. Can sense ghostly presences. Can easily exorcise ghosts and poltergeists. Can allow wraiths to devour poltergeists and energetic beings. Can release wraiths from her body and behave as an anchor. Strengthens wraiths in her immediate presence, including ones not attached to her. Can meditate and relax into the limbo inside her body - connecting with the wraiths dwelling there. Can actively communicate with wraiths. Body can defend itself when fallen unconscious under extreme duress (rare, limited ability). Weaknesses: All powers are extremely exhaustive; may fall unconscious for days if continuous use of powers occur without rest; may sleep long, extended periods at a time, leaving her vulnerable; depressed easily; frustrates easily; too cocky. Appearance: Height of 5'5". Smallish, lean, with wider hips. Dark, wild hair; light brown eyes; tan skin; strong jaw and cheekbones. Has chocolate, isolated freckles in select spots around her face, neck, arms, and upper back. Plot Bunnies/Pairings/Notes Pairing: An easy one is that White needs a body guard. Her wraiths drain her of energy, having her sleep for near days. With zealots after her, she needs someone whose sole duty is to physically defend her. Plot bunny: White could be hired to deal with a wraith/issue, either pulling the caller into it, or the opposing character is the wraith. The wraith could either be absorbed, and they go on from there, or is too powerful to be absorbed. Something to expand on. A forced adventure that delves into something beyond the both of them. Plot bunny: Would love a supernatural, modern mystery that requires Kate's help with, perhaps, your character as its main investigator or key witness or something else along those lines. Vyrennia tal Kamunnon Fantasy / Other World / Horror / Adventure / Mystery Character Information Vyrennia tal Kamunnon ak Sho Livikan: Equipped with her own unique lore and world, Vyrennia is the Left Hand of the daemon god of darkness, dreams, and sensuality, Livilin. She entertains the Underworld Courts with her superb breeding all while carrying out her master and mistress's commands in the shadows. Outwardly indifferent to humans, but inwardly unhesitatingly curious, she has no problem warping in and out of the Underworld to allow the regulars of bars and taverns to entertain her. Age: 203 years (equivalent to 30+ years in humans). Powers: Vyrennia has one rare power, one uncommon power, and the rest are standard for her kind - they are listed in this order: Can enter a strange plane by moving through reflective surfaces that are at least the size of her hand, and teleports this way (this power has been kept secret and others generally do not know that she has it); can weave shadows; can incur or destroy nightmares; can lull the exhausted to sleep - usually only works on humans or lesser demons; exudes pheromones. Not a power, but an ability to be listed: is quick and excellent in hand-to-hand combat, particularly experienced with knives and using her opponent's weight against themselves. Weaknesses: Can do little with ranged combat - must use powers to get up close; to conceal her secret, which is most useful when no one knows of it, she generally cannot use her best ability within sight of others; can be lost eternally in the plane that she enters when she moves between surfaces; haughty; mistrustful; prejudiced. Appearance: The outer edge of the iris is dark, defining it against the cornea, but the inner color and pupil are both a soft, glowing white, with smoke pouring slowly from them. Skin is a soft caramel. Tall, voluptuous figure, reaching 5'11". Four horns adorn her head. Two large ones are at her temples, which move in a slight arch upwards. Two smaller ones, with only a slight curve, flank the inner space of the first two. Her hair is a stark white, flowing upwards like flame and moving like smoke, the ends appearing and disappearing. The ends of her ears are just slightly pointed. Plot Bunnies/Pairings/Notes PLOT: I have an actual, written out plot for her! It is murder mystery-esque and, of course, you have no defined role, but I do have many roles that I could suggest. Please inquire specifically for this. Pairing: Really, any plot that requires a succubus or demon. Note: It is important to note that Vyrennia has her own lore/world and is NOT cohesive with Christian or otherwise black/white, good/evil mythology. Levani *New Fantasy / Other World / Witchcraft / Adventure / Lighthearted Character Information Levani: Extremely experimental, so I beg you to bear with me. Levani was a large cat, a fantastical creature that was queen of her world, but her life was turned around when two deities decided to pluck her up and make her their chosen. Given a human form and specific powers, it became Levani's job to combat other witches and the forces of contempt that threaten to torment the world. She is not the only one, because she sure as hell couldn't do this alone. IMPORTANT: She is not an anthromorph, but she is a cat with the ability to shapeshift into a human. Strongly recommended with a dose of humor and lightheartedness. Age: 37 Total Years (27 as a Chosen) Powers: Foremost is her ability to disperse and move life energy, via the runes of His and Hers - the deities who ascended her. Can use this to create earthen traps, constructs, move rock and foliage. Knows the languages of local tribes and often can learn languages easily. Weaknesses: Bad with social norms and manners (i.e. may invade personal space); difficult to form close relationships; will overreach herself physically; short-tempered. Appearance: Tall and sleek, reaching 6'1"; short, silver hair with black roots; long, dark lashes framing golden eyes; heart-shaped face; obtuse spots (think clouded leopard) line up the backs of her arms, legs, and back, along with thick, black lines along the back - easily mistaken for tattoos. Many hoops and studs line her ears and her neck and wrists are often decorated with leather thongs that host a variety of runes and trinkets. Plot Bunnies/Pairings/Notes Plot bunny: I was briefly thinking of something to do with a hunter... or wat. Note: I really want to work with this character more, but I don't have anything for her yet. Maybe an epic adventure? Another Chosen? Something that hunts the Chosen? I would love for others' ideas! Evathia *New Alternate World / Dystopian Fantasy / Vampires&Demons&Gods, Oh My! / Action Character Information Evathia: Even more experimental than Levani, Evathia is an abomination. Once a creature of purity and protection older than the gods, her body had been tainted with the bones of her enemies. Tricked and commandeered by a dangerous cult, Evathia has managed to since wrest her leash from their clawing hands, but must avoid falling back into their clutches at any cost. The cost of their interference is her ravenous taste for the flesh of the unholy, but curing this sickness could doom the world. Abilities/Powers: Can smell the descended creatures of many different dark gods and beasts, the 'unholy'; has an intense bloodlust for these wretched things, be they vampires or other - her strength increases as this lust is satiated, usually only short-term; when the sigil on her body is completed (with enough kills) she may transform to her Other Self, a smaller, corrupted version of the creature she was, until it is used up. Flaws/Weaknesses: Mistrustful; manipulative; violent; bloodlust, and herself, can be controlled by another using the hexed bone that she carries; especially vulnerable to death/control the period after her sigil has been used up; extended periods of time without the blood of the unholy makes her sick and, eventually, unable to distinguish between unholy and neutral beings (i.e. humans). Appearance: Sleek and fit, standing at 5'8". Thick, wine-red hair, wavy, that falls just past her shoulders. Dark tan skin. Grey eyes. Has a blood red tree across her back - her sigil - that is only the trunk after it has just been used; each death of an unholy spreads a branch across her skin, until her entire body is covered in the sigil. Plot Bunnies/Pairings/Notes Note: Despite being best suited in a gritty, alternate, dystopian world, Evathia may still function in a modern, more familiar timeline. Pairing: Wonderfully paired with a hunter of some type, forming a mutual necessity for the others' presence. Quite Interesting... That Which Should be Sealed The Dangers of Summoning A Girl and her Dragon Setting: Victorian Era Supernatural Fantasy Character: Nichola Ramsay, Detective Inspector, Werewolf Pairing: New Partner Plot: Mystery; "Bigger Than Us" kind of plot; vague and up for working on. Note: Of course, the end can be changed to mean a new female partner as opposed to male. The Central of The Unspoken was in no way uncouth, proudly, and yet Detective Inspector Nichola Ramsay found her skin crawled every time she walked its crowded depths. Nestled underground London, the giant cavern consumed what had once been smaller, sectioned-off branches of the Unspoken. The Ancients had found the original system entirely ineffective, for it had worked as an octopus with each tentacle having a mind of its own. Instead, it became this enormous and overwhelming system, having “Official” business in close proximity with supernatural housing and other specialties offered by the age-old agency. While Ramsay didn’t care about the inner politics and arguments made against such a system, she had just wished it wasn’t so bloody noisy. One could not get to her office, located near the offices of superintendents and basic sleeping quarters, without listening to the sweet song of baying wargs, the gurgling of many a frantic kelpie, and at least one raving banshee. Nichola used quick, unchecked strides, her harsh gait cleaving much of the crowd like a blade through cheese. Behind her, the tides rushed back in, filling the crags she’d left. The close proximity, however easy it was to move amidst the creatures, left her with a minute shudder. The pack desire had obviously fled from her blood long ago. Despite the disgust with which she equipped to navigate Central, the Otherworldly place did have its perks and Nichola knew them well. There was a certain liberty with ease she was allowed to take, no longer walking among ignorant humans. Dressed to the nines in male attire, she was an awful sight to behold in veiled human eyes. Enough as it was, her stature was shockingly tall, outranking other men in height easily at a smooth two meters. With a dark vest and attached pocket watch to match her equally sober suit, Nichola could almost say for sure that the only reason she had kept her job here was the fantastic seamstress who was employed under the Unspoken. Being what she was, Nichola had a small fee removed from her paycheck for such services, but considering the frequency of torn, hard-to-alter clothing, it was worth every penny. Only adding to the comfort amongst Otherworldly kind was the fact that Nichola was not English, and it showed quite thoroughly in her face. Her flesh was a dark olive and her features were not of this time, with strong cheeks and jaw, pouted lips, thick and dark lashes, and slightly curved nose. Only adding to her alienation was her stark white hair, which was pulled into a professionally lazy bun at the nape of her neck. While this was extremely attractive to her kind, especially being the sign of a high-born wolf, it was extremely off-putting to humans and she had learned very well to hide it beneath a hat or to avoid working during daylight at all. Here, however, she was hardly given an askance look. In light of the leisures with which she could take, Central truly wasn’t that bad. Perhaps it was just the day. Today, Nichola was unable to go straight to her office, for today was a special day. She’d known about this day for well over a week now. It was the day that her deceased partner, Gale Vivaldi, would be replaced. She knew that Superintendent Levi would not have allowed her to continue her serenity for much longer. He had given her a year to grieve and a very brief reprieve from the memories of horror that dogged her every steps, but his offer had hardly been taken. Despite the relief, Nichola had found herself many times back at Central, “helping” others with their frustrating cases, and many times taking them over herself. None of it she was paid for, of course, but it was a habit that she hadn’t been able to break. Not that she particularly loved doing it; if she stopped working long enough, she’d get to thinking. Now, officially returning to her place as Detective Inspector, she had to be given a partner, as per protocol. It was not something that Superintendent Levi would let even her slide, no matter the amount of years they had seen through. After Detective Inspector Vivaldi’s brutal murder, as old and as strong as he was, it was not something that Levi would let anyone get away with. To continue on with the only life she’d ever known, Nichola had no choice but to obey. That was what found her here, at the Superintendent’s door. After taking an uneasy breath, she rapped sharply on the door and rallied herself. A cool, echoed voice replied: “Detective Inspector Ramsay. Come in.” Opening the door, Nichola slipped into the room, partially relieved to realize that she had arrived first. Superintendent Levi was at his desk, a smoky black shape poured into the stock picture of a human form save that his face was utterly featureless. Whatever he touched left a temporary residue, mimicking the dark, writhing tongues that fluttered from his figure. “You look well.” The statement was an offhanded attempt at normalcy made by Levi, his awkward compassion and desperation toward leadership bleeding together. “It’s the suit,” Nichola replied, her arms feeling stiff as cardboard at her sides. “Cheng is a hell of a tailor.” Levi watched with a cold, suffering gaze, but by the way his head bobbed, she was sure he nodded his silent agreement. Shades, such as Levi, hardly realized that they did not have a facial expression with which their speaking companion could interpret. “Your partner will be here shortly,” he said at last. “Did you read his dossier?” “I had not wished to pry.” Nichola swore that she could see a giant, toothed grin tear the lower half of Levi’s face, yet there was nothing but the dark emptiness of a shade’s being. “He’s quite the interesting man.” Setting: Modern Fantasy Character: Kate White Pairing: Your character would have been sealed in the tree, punished there for some reason (whether they were good or bad); your character can be whatever or however you'd like, though preferably something that wouldn't kill Kate off the bat. We need them to stick together for a story, yeah? OOORRRR Your character has been attempting to protect the tree, so that what was inside could not escape. Plot: Vague, up for working on. It was a perfect horror movie, Kateri White had imagined on a fleeting thought. The moon dipped low in the inky sky, reflected in the pool of fog that crept along the chilled ground. If there had been any birds that dared to grace the ill-intentioned breeze, she had fancied a crow might squawk in apparent grimness. Her leather jacket was held close to her lean body to guard against the cold, though it did little to stop the coils of chilled breath that escaped her lips. It was the perfect setting for an eerie graveyard, if only a ghoul had been skulking in the background, but that wasn’t where Kate was. No, instead, she walked upon a quiet road with the strange stab of familiarity in her gut and little more. The surrounding trees were crooked and sickly, their emaciated bodies splayed in all manner of twisted gestures. They all leaned in one direction: towards her, and away from that which she sought. Kate’s boots made muffled crunching noises against the frigid dirt, overpowering the beat of her quiet breathing. It had become a repetitive sound before the first hour of her trek had finished, but this was not a road she could have driven down. This road was quite special. It lay on a pinched plane. Those who drove on in their secure buggy or car would go right through the folds with little more than a strange feeling in their belly, and then nothing. But those who knew… Those who walked around and into the fold, they would be here. “Here” was a place that Kate really wasn’t sure of. She knew that something nagged at her, bit at her ankles, and suckled on this feeling of insecurity. Something felt like she’d been here before, but Kate could count on her fingers all of the pinched planes she’d been on, and this B-movie place wasn’t one of them. That was when she came to the end of the road and was sure. While earlier trees seemed to be turned away, these seemed to be running for their precious lives. The roots were above the fetid dirt, winding and snaking and writhing as far away as they could get from the masterpiece in the center. A stark, white tree. Kate released an appreciative whistle for the girth of the beast was more than she could put her arms around. There had been hardly any time to enjoy the creature’s beauty before she felt the tingles sprawl along her spine. A warning pain flourished in the back of her skull and she turned on her heel. A spirit beast, slim and spindly like the trees, watched her from the center of the road. Eyes as bottomless as the abyss, it gazed, and Kate could feel it search her very soul. Its lips pulled agape in a surprised question, but Kate did not give it a chance. Could not. Beneath dark olive skin, veins turned black, pulsing with an otherworldly presence. The darkness spread throughout her body and was unleashed, a wretched form tearing from the world that was beyond Kate’s flesh. It flung itself at the creature, unholy claws tearing into its ethereal form. Kate could feel the shearing hands rip clean the fragments of life as if she had done it herself, and the spirit beast was no more. Or so, she had thought. The creature returned once more, its form raring and fierce from the fog to snarl and slash at that which had attacked it. The wraith that Kate had summoned, Elandra, was shadowy and wispy, faintly resembling a horned beast. She was bulky and cumbersome, but Kate moved with Elandra, as Elandra, as she weaved and dodged the spirit beast, countering with another wicked slash that rendered the spirit’s head from its neck. Once more, she felt the spurt of life as spirits did, through Elandra’s claws, spark and sputter from the now-disappearing residue. It was not done with them. Kate could feel in her body a pain in the side of her head, so she receded from Elandra and rolled to the side, just as the spirit monster jumped like a tiger from the brush. Her wraith reeled to protect her, screeching a roar not unlike a bull. Again and again, Kate used Elandra to dodge and swipe before pulling back into her own flesh to evade the spirit creature’s knowing attack. Until she was finally hit. Smashed in the arm with a brutal claw, she tumbled to the dirt and cradled her newfound injury. This isn’t working, Kate. It knows what we are doing. You are already weakening. Elandra’s voice seeped into her mind while the wraith defended its living link. After a shuddered breath, she turned to the tree and grit her teeth. The tree looked back at her, like it was waiting. “Right then,” she sighed. With a burst of unwarranted energy, Kate pushed herself into Elandra, though the spirit beast was not to be seen. It’s coming for your body. “I know.” She turned the bulky wraith and charged for the tree, pushing those massive blades into the bark. Very unlike a tree, it hardly budged. A pain blossomed in her physical body and she knew that the beast was upon her. It will kill you! “Not so quickly…” In an agonizing moment, Elandra’s talons burst through the bark as though it was flesh and Kate was thrown back into her body with a broken arm and bleeding shoulder. The spirit above her screamed and threw itself, the tree splitting open to the tune of its cries. A burst of blue exploded through the forest, snapping branches and trees as it went, and taking the spirit beast back from whence it came. Something was unleashed. Elandra recoiled to Kate’s side with bated breath, if she’d had any. What have you done? Kate, too, shared the feeling that she’d committed an unforgivable crime. “We’re going to find out.” Setting: Modern or Other World Fantasy Character: Vyrennia tal Kamunnon Pairing: Your character would be the summoner who had been practicing his work and, using strange wording that he may have messed-up, found, or inherited, summoned 'Karthis', a Hand of a cruel daemon god that Vyrennia helped seal away a long time ago. To be summoned, the body of a beloved thing is used in the ritual (it did not have to be killed, just dead beforehand); in this case, it was a cat, but it could be anything you'd like. Plot: Karthis was a brutal and vile Hand of Anikur that slaughtered many, daemon and human, unduly. The daemon gods agreed that they needed to be dealt with. The Hands of the god of Death worked with Vyrennia to seal Karthis in a 'plane of death', lacking of sensation and consciousness, in the hopes that he could not be summoned or brought back by even the darkest of magics, but by quirk or hidden power, your character managed it. Now they must work with Vyrennia to stuff Karthis back from where he had come. Breathing… A whisper so soft against the cotton of a pillowcase, the gentle rasp of a blanket as it shifted up and down, moving with the undulations of a chest. Pulsing… The beating of a heart, the blood that rushed, the valves that opened and closed. Opened and closed. Opened and closed… For a few moments, the figure curled there in the air, taking in the shapes and colors that formed around it. Shadows blanketed them, but it could see, could feel their mass taking up the air. Soaking it with things… Things he had not felt before. Sensations he had not experienced. The tickle of a carpet. The icy caress of a breeze. The exhilaration of the night air. So cruel his kin had been, to keep him from this for centuries. To bar him from this wonderful experience. How dare they lock him in that… place. Ah, but he was free now, and he had been freely given his help. How brave the man had been. How innocent. How corruptible. Something he loved stalked out from under the bed, something he loved watching him with glassy, dead eyes. Something he loved was not something he loved anymore. It was His now. Lifting hands that formed from smoke, claws that dripped with new flesh, He placed them to his mouth. What was it? Something troubled him, grated him. What is it? Ah, yes. He was not simply Him. He was… ‘Karthis.’ The sound, no… the name was a sound within his mind and he watched the thing the man had loved once stare at him. Yes, the loved thing was correct. Karthis was his name. Karthis dal Anikan, creature of Anikur, lord of lords. Of destruction, of submission. That was it. So long had he been tucked away in the nothingness that it had almost strangled that away from him. “Come”, he said, the sound hardly more than a thread of wind, beckoning to the loved thing. It followed dutifully, leaving his summoner to sleep, if only but for a night. ------- Feeling along the web of slumber, Vyrennia struck a chord that shook with frustration, but vibrated with passion. With desire. So powerfully did it shake, did it throttle in its dreams, that she did not hesitate to slip her fingers along the ridge and grasp the dreamer. Still him to peacefulness, carefully siphon away the excess. There was something bitter in the taste and Vyrennia tal Kamunnon recoiled, her blazing white eyes wide with confusion. So sour, so wrong. Humans did not ever taste that wrong. Not unless… she worked her dreamweaving, pulling the strings and massaging the images that the young man seen himself. A recollection of his night, if gently skewed, a repetition of the words he said, a violence outburst of anger and disappointment in the form of a nightmare. Vyrennia stilled him with a peacefulness, banished the darkening night, and drank away his dreams until he fell into a fit sleep. Vyrennia shook herself from her meditation and ascended the glowing, sapphire pool. It lay at the center of a cave, without entrances or exits, and lapped at a small sandbank. The light it offered glazed the plethora of mirrors, in all their shapes and sizes, that lined every crevice and cranny. This was her home, a home that was immune to the seeking of other Livikan, safe and secret and alone. Yet this was not where she would stay tonight. There was something out there, something that enticed her, despite the bad taste she savored on her tongue. A ritual was not rare and her kind responded to them with their normal, hungry curiosity, but that incantation alone had been… unique. She would be remiss if she did not respond to it as equally fervent. Picking up a decently-sized handmirror, enough for her to spread her hand on, she tucked it away against her black clothes. They were like matte silk, flowing down her figure and carefully hiding it at the same time. The skirt split beneath her belt, once above each thigh, revealing long, tanned legs. She did not wear shoes, instead leaving her feet free to feel the world below. A whip-like tail, ridged with small spines, curled against one leg before tucking itself away behind her. Hidden and secure, Vyrennia’s body could have been mistaken for human, but her face chased that idea away. Stark, white hair draped over her shoulder, curling away at the ends like smoke. Two onyx horns like those of a ram curved on either side of her head, and two much smaller, straighter horns flanked them. Fiery white eyes included and she would not be mistaken for something born of Gaia. Placing her hand against one of the fuller, longer mirrors, the glass gave way like liquid mercury and parted at her touch. Vyrennia entered it, as she had done many times before, and walked through a place of smoky dreams and murky corridors, a painting unfinished in sepia tones, she was taken to the window she had seen through the man's eyes. Hanging ajar, she was careful to extend her legs first, her bare toes tapping the floor to know that she had found a safe place to stand, and the rest of her climbed out of the window. Immediately, spiders crept deviously up her spine, and she shuddered beneath the weight of them. Oh, she knew that feel. Had felt that presence before. One that she would never forget. A thing of suppression, of naked greed, she hissed with the weight of it. Karthis… Turning to the figure in the bed, she did not hide her gaze, one equally of disdain and amusement. His passion was nothing to scoff it, emanating like a living aura around him, but to what end… he did not even know. But he was sure as hell to find out. Graceful as a snake on the forest floor, Vyrennia reached his bed and placed her hand on his shoulder. Without grace, she shook him. “Wake, son of the earth, to know what you have done.” Setting: Fantasy, Other World Character: Kolda, Human Pairing: This was intended for the other's character to be a dragon, large creature, or hell - someone adventuring along that just happens to help her down. Plot: Vague; was intended to be a fun, epic adventure. The sky was still purple when the people in the village decided to sacrifice Kolda. A sluggish sun pulled a golden thread across the horizon, promising to rise in some assassine amount of time, but it held little warmth in its gaze for the village of Vree. They had risen in the darkest hours, with hushed voices and conspiring whispers. They had made decisions around candlelight and with breaths of ale, weaving together their best ropes, and forging their best stake. Kolda, the woman of Vree with no family name, who pulled from the land, made her tallow candles, and carved figures of the eleventy-thousand gods, had been enjoying the comfort of her bed at the time. There weren’t many times where she could, which may have been why she was as disgruntled as she was upon waking. Or maybe it was because they had decided, without her, that she was to make the honorable sacrifice. Kolda wondered if it was really because she had made up a few ridiculous gods and sold the townspeople their likenesses to elicit herself some laughs. Watching the middle-aged woman worship the new 'fertility goddess' made entirely of bosoms and phallic symbols, which they pressed to their lips on a prayer, had kept her in good humors for weeks. Did they find out the truth? She’d never know, of course, because she couldn’t ask why. Part of the ritual was to wrap her mouth, which was probably for the better, considering she’d have been too busy cursing their families and blurting blackmail-worthy secrets than to tell them how blessed she must be to have been chosen. They pulled her from the comfort of her home and Kolda silently, graciously, allowed them to pillage what things she had left in her stores. Take it all, that’s okay. I didn’t fucking work for it, you nine-tailed slugs! Born in slime, you were, where you grovel in your own- The stream of filthy thought poured on, but Kolda was left without a choice in actually speaking it. She normally enjoyed the company of her own mind, but today, she had found it lacking. She found it noisy and obtrusive and wanted everyone to know exactly what she was thinking. After tying her up in her muslin gown and leather trousers, one of the women Kolda had tended to in the past rushed back to her empty home and pilfered a fur-lined coat. She draped it around Kolda’s shoulders with a sweet, old-woman’s smile, murmuring quietly about how she might catch a cold before the Great Dragon appeared. Kolda rolled her kohl-colored almond eyes, batting dark lashes sarcastically as she spoke to herself within the bonds. How kind. How sweet. I'll tell the Dragon to save you for last and crunch on your bones the slowest, you marrow-sucking worm scat. The old woman shuffled away, allowing the stronger men and women to bind Kolda to a large, oak stake in the ground. A small crowd had gathered and they pressed in against her, with their pitiful, insane thanks, and words of appraisal. They put some things in the wild waves of her sun-kissed hair, like flowers, and some yellow-flowered weed that a child passed to his mother from the ground. A young man, one who had fancied her - and all girls in the village - stuffed one of her figurines into her pocket. A dragon. Thanks. Figured that she would die ironically. There were other things too, littered at her feet, but nothing sentimental or desirable. Nothing that she'd care to stare at in the frostiness of the morning until she was between jagged teeth. After some amount of time that Kolda truly wished didn’t have to pass, they all whisked themselves away to their inns and homes to celebrate the actions of their madness. It was just a dragon. It had shown its no-good-leather-brain once, maybe twice, in the skies above Vree, so Kolda hadn’t prepared for the thought that they might sacrifice someone to it. Would the creature even be drawn in? Glancing around at the field of bright hyssops, and knowing how she stood out like a sore thumb, she supposed if it was looking for an easy meal… Kolda could feel the weight of her carving knife dig into the strap around her calf, but knew she couldn’t wiggle it out. Why couldn’t she have fallen asleep with it in her hand? Why hadn't she left this mad town ages ago?