Post by Bianca on Nov 18, 2006 12:25:48 GMT -5
Name: Bianca
Age: 16
Genres: What I do the most:
--Vampire-
(Anything involving vampires, except slayer-type things. Those just...annoy me.)
--Pirate
--Anything between the 17th and 19th century
--Slave
--Ancient Rome/Greece/Egypt
--Alice in Wonderland (Twisted version!)
--(Un)Seelie Court
--Some Highschool
--Normal Adolescent Behavior
--Apartment (maybe)
--Mental Hospital
--Seven Deadly Sins
--Angel/Demon
There are many, many more.. Me is too lazy.
Experience: I started when I was nine.
Sample:
(Sorry if it's long)
Immortality. It was funny, the way things worked. Death brought on a rebirth of grace, beauty power. All for the cost of one’s heartbeat. Also funny was they way immortality was given, not so much as a party favor passed around on a tray, but more of a pregnancy test being flashed about be a teenage mother-to-be. A take it or leave it deal, one could say. For example, in the last moments in his true life, Desmond had been given two options: Live, or die. It was slightly unfair, being given an option like that. Who would choose true death when you could live and still die? Immortality. If it was not the lure of everlasting life, it was the curiosity that pulled so many in. For so many were indeed pulled in.
He, too, was perched among the spiraling points built by the humans around him, built so they could…well, in all honesty, he didn’t know what the creatures wanted to feel. Close to their gods? Did they see being so highly risen as some sign of power? Ah, the poor fools. He could tell them this: No matter the position in life, all men women, and children were equal in death. The devil, or whoever ruled in the great beyond was not one to look on the outside.. Beauty was, after all, only skin deep. And beneath the surface was what would lay down one’s fate.
Shifting, he let his eyes fall shut slightly. Sitting up here, he’d been enjoying the few rays of sunlight he would be able to catch without resembling a forgotten hotdog on the stove. Thin, artistic fingers began to twist the solid silver cross dangling at his throat, massaging and working the metal like most would work a worry stone. Between his fingers, a tiny smile sprouting on his lips. Ah, crosses. Another mortal invention.. No, not an invention. Anathema. There ad been a time when it had effected all f his kind, repelling the undead against all they had loved in their living lives. And so many foolish mortals had put their faith in the lord, who’s symbol was then used to….to destroy them. Trust humans to create the object of their own destruction.
An agitated sigh escape the vampire as he rose, moving in a single, fluid motion with the grace and prowess of a cat. Black billowed around him; his duster, with the sleeves rolled up, dangling to his feet, a black shirt beneath that, and a pair of too-die-for tight leather pants that seemed to hung his figure painfully well -literally. Black boots completed the outfit, sparking every so often when the city lights caught the silver buckles. Between his fingers dangled a cigarette, burning away slowly, threatening to scorch the tips of those pale fingers.
Smoking. A lesser evil. In his time, Desmond had been quite the addict. When the pain of eternity had become unbearable, he set to numb it. And, as the drugs grew stronger, so did his addiction. But, alas, time seemed to indeed solve everything. Des could proudly support the ‘recovering alcohol and smoker’ club. As opposed to being some sort of heroine addict. Which he had been, at a time, that much was visible from the scattering of black marks covering the inside of both arms. Actually, it was safe to say that if it was addicting Des had been hooked on it at one time or another. As he liked to put it ‘It wasn’t like it was going to kill him.’
His other hand moved to remove a curtain of shaggy black hair, giving view to pale husky-blue eyes; the kind that made a person look blind. They were set neatly in darkened eye sockets, which were in turn set in a god-like attractive face, though it was extraordinarily pale. Piercings also covered that pale, attractive face: A bar through his eyebrow, a ring through his lip, and twenty-six hoops covering his ears; thirteen each. He looked, actual, very much like a mortal you would find running about the city below. Except he was quite unlike any of them.
Approaching the edge of the building, he regarded the distant alley below, a smile forming on his pale lips, showing white, straight teeth. After a moment, he took another drag on his dying cigarette, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and jumped with all the grace a creature could posses. Thirty stories below, he landed with a soft thud, straightening smoothly. Casting his eyes downward, he frowned: His cigarette had gone out.
Accepted![/color]
Roselyn: You're very big in detail. =) That's good.
I love the characterization and et cetera. It sets the atmosphere.
And I see you've read stuff from Holly Black [Tithe, Valient, etc.] <3
[/center]
Age: 16
Genres: What I do the most:
--Vampire-
(Anything involving vampires, except slayer-type things. Those just...annoy me.)
--Pirate
--Anything between the 17th and 19th century
--Slave
--Ancient Rome/Greece/Egypt
--Alice in Wonderland (Twisted version!)
--(Un)Seelie Court
--Some Highschool
--Normal Adolescent Behavior
--Apartment (maybe)
--Mental Hospital
--Seven Deadly Sins
--Angel/Demon
There are many, many more.. Me is too lazy.
Experience: I started when I was nine.
Sample:
(Sorry if it's long)
Immortality. It was funny, the way things worked. Death brought on a rebirth of grace, beauty power. All for the cost of one’s heartbeat. Also funny was they way immortality was given, not so much as a party favor passed around on a tray, but more of a pregnancy test being flashed about be a teenage mother-to-be. A take it or leave it deal, one could say. For example, in the last moments in his true life, Desmond had been given two options: Live, or die. It was slightly unfair, being given an option like that. Who would choose true death when you could live and still die? Immortality. If it was not the lure of everlasting life, it was the curiosity that pulled so many in. For so many were indeed pulled in.
He, too, was perched among the spiraling points built by the humans around him, built so they could…well, in all honesty, he didn’t know what the creatures wanted to feel. Close to their gods? Did they see being so highly risen as some sign of power? Ah, the poor fools. He could tell them this: No matter the position in life, all men women, and children were equal in death. The devil, or whoever ruled in the great beyond was not one to look on the outside.. Beauty was, after all, only skin deep. And beneath the surface was what would lay down one’s fate.
Shifting, he let his eyes fall shut slightly. Sitting up here, he’d been enjoying the few rays of sunlight he would be able to catch without resembling a forgotten hotdog on the stove. Thin, artistic fingers began to twist the solid silver cross dangling at his throat, massaging and working the metal like most would work a worry stone. Between his fingers, a tiny smile sprouting on his lips. Ah, crosses. Another mortal invention.. No, not an invention. Anathema. There ad been a time when it had effected all f his kind, repelling the undead against all they had loved in their living lives. And so many foolish mortals had put their faith in the lord, who’s symbol was then used to….to destroy them. Trust humans to create the object of their own destruction.
An agitated sigh escape the vampire as he rose, moving in a single, fluid motion with the grace and prowess of a cat. Black billowed around him; his duster, with the sleeves rolled up, dangling to his feet, a black shirt beneath that, and a pair of too-die-for tight leather pants that seemed to hung his figure painfully well -literally. Black boots completed the outfit, sparking every so often when the city lights caught the silver buckles. Between his fingers dangled a cigarette, burning away slowly, threatening to scorch the tips of those pale fingers.
Smoking. A lesser evil. In his time, Desmond had been quite the addict. When the pain of eternity had become unbearable, he set to numb it. And, as the drugs grew stronger, so did his addiction. But, alas, time seemed to indeed solve everything. Des could proudly support the ‘recovering alcohol and smoker’ club. As opposed to being some sort of heroine addict. Which he had been, at a time, that much was visible from the scattering of black marks covering the inside of both arms. Actually, it was safe to say that if it was addicting Des had been hooked on it at one time or another. As he liked to put it ‘It wasn’t like it was going to kill him.’
His other hand moved to remove a curtain of shaggy black hair, giving view to pale husky-blue eyes; the kind that made a person look blind. They were set neatly in darkened eye sockets, which were in turn set in a god-like attractive face, though it was extraordinarily pale. Piercings also covered that pale, attractive face: A bar through his eyebrow, a ring through his lip, and twenty-six hoops covering his ears; thirteen each. He looked, actual, very much like a mortal you would find running about the city below. Except he was quite unlike any of them.
Approaching the edge of the building, he regarded the distant alley below, a smile forming on his pale lips, showing white, straight teeth. After a moment, he took another drag on his dying cigarette, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and jumped with all the grace a creature could posses. Thirty stories below, he landed with a soft thud, straightening smoothly. Casting his eyes downward, he frowned: His cigarette had gone out.
Accepted!
Roselyn: You're very big in detail. =) That's good.
I love the characterization and et cetera. It sets the atmosphere.
And I see you've read stuff from Holly Black [Tithe, Valient, etc.] <3
[/center]