| |
Neutral
|
Younger Version Name: Felicity Role: a warrior, a witch, a daughter of Lilith, a ruler, an outcast, Age: 15 Gender: female Appearance: Personality: Strengths: Weakneseses: Likes: Dislikes: Backstory: Other: Roleplays: none *****
Older Version
Name: Felicity She has no middle name. She will keep her maiden surname. Age: 40s and older Gender: female Sexuality: pansexual Appearance: Tall at a height of 6 feet, Feli towers above fellow women and even has a few inches on her husband. Big boned and broad shouldered, she is by no means slim and therefore heavier than most women, but much her flesh resides on her long legs, and the faint outlines of muscle throughout her body are visible even beneath a layer of fat that's far more curvy than flabby. Her shapely figure had won the king's figure, after all. The queen walks with power and purpose, her strides long but smoothly graceful, with no sense of hurry or frantic worry. Her thick arms, capable of crushing and overbearing hugs, are often crossed in front of her or bent with her hand on her hips, even when her expression betrays no anger. Feli’s dark walnut brown skin doesn’t burn easily under the blistering sun. The sun kissed rather than scorches it, or so it appears. Her skin can still feel the pain of an extreme heat despite the evenly colored appearance, The soles of her feet are calloused and burned from running on hot sand and rock. From a distance, where the weary creases on her face are blended into her dark skin, she could easily pass for a woman in her 20s. Even up close, her cheekbones are high and prominent; her thick long eyelashes never seemed to thin out with age. Her round face is balanced by her large, boldly expressive features, high arched eyebrows, full lips just a shade lighter than the rest of her skin. Her bright, almond-shaped eyes are light brown, the color of coffee mixed with a generous dollop of milk. A dusting of freckles is sprinkled across her nose. Feli usually wears her hair loose; the flexible black coils seem to defy gravity, growing upwards, outwards, forming a sort of dark halo behind her face. With her mysterious aura and hint of devious smile, rumors abound that she younger than she claims to be; others say she must’ve made a deal with a demon or a djinn for youth. Perhaps they're true, perhaps they're slander out of spite, fear, or envy. Maybe it’s simply because she’s never had any children, unlike the vast majority of her medieval women peers. Even from a brief glance, it’s not hard to guess she’s no blood relative of her royal children. Feli prefers to wear loose, airy silks and linen that flutter at the slightest breeze. Ringlets of bronze, silver or gold grace her wrists and neck and jingle lightly with each step, though they’re not too gaudy.Gold, orange, and cream feature prominently through her outfits, colors like the desert sands and its harsh sun, like the phoenix flames that represent the nation. The warm fiery colors match her feisty personality, the citrus colors match her sweet and sour duality. Rarely will you find her in clothing that deviate from this palette, at least not in public, and not in daytime. But occassionally during evenings or night, she will were silver dresses matched with her midnight blue cloak sprinkled with starry speckles, as if her colors shift to match the backdrop of the environment, her chameleon wardrobe just as glamorous as her shifty facades. Personality: Allure. The first word that comes to mind when one sees her. She's a queen after all, a graceful and beautiful one, the utter antithesis of the Ugly Duchess. Though she may act suggestively sometimes, it’s only an act. She’ll be quick to decline any romantic pursuits. She receives many compliments but tries not to let them get to her head. Most of it is flattery; one can’t be too trusting around here. The palace court is never a safe place, no matter how sturdy the walls or intricate the locks. Many acquaintances, few friends. Isn't that a familiar damper of a feeling? It's the shady intricacies and political games she hates but must oblige to, unnecessarily convoluted unlike the still tough but simpler struggles of her past. With a background wreathed in mystery, a self made woman is not always someone to admire. Feli is undeniably ambitious. She did not hoist herself to this position only to grow lax and shirk duties. She would hate to be reduced to a trophy wife, or a rich pompous leech on society, and thus does her best to rule. It takes courage to speak up, and that's one thing she prizes more than any riches she's gained. Though a smooth and charismatic speaker, this queen would never sweet talk, no, her crisp voice brings of bitter words, spicy argumentative retorts, strange flavors of wise but cryptic words. Feli’s strong sense of personal justice trumps laws; she is more than willing to change, bend, or break them. But she’s got an iron fist to match an iron will - cross her and don’t expect forgiveness to come easy. With a strong, fierce disposition, reminiscent of a lioness, her loudness is somehow serene and not disruptive. In conversation, Feli is jovial with almost overbearing sunny exuberance, often the first to offer greetings and encouragement. But it would feel shallow to describe her as bubbly. Her stoic nature is of a rarer, more secretive type than the stereotypical stone-faced image. She not only smiles through pain, but jokes, entertains. But secretly she wouldn't let go of grievances, she'll stubbornly carry hers forever while simultaneously picking up other burdens from her friends. She only shed tears at night then, and now, even that opportunity is scarce now that she’s rooms with the king or with her round-the-clock royal attendants. The passionate fury she used to be able to summon seems to be slipping away over time, leaving only bitterness. Her anger flared often in her youth, but she has tempered it now. Diminished too is her honesty, was more prominent when she was younger, got her into more than a fair share of predicaments. Now, while she’s no outright liar, she’s learned to omit information, bribe, and give vague replies. The end will justify the means. Strengths:
A nimble and fast runner despite her age
Good with a spear, the only real weapon she can use truly rely on
It may be a surprise to learn Feli’s quite the nifty climber, seeing as trees and high buildings are rare where she lives and has lived Weaknesses:
Prone to migraines
Suspicion abound about how she rose to a position of power under mysterious circumstances
Agitation when someone gets romantic or flirty with her Likes:
Perfumes and fruity scents
Cats and other felines
Bright, warm colors
Starlight
Spicy food
Sad music Dislikes:
The color pink
The smell of most animals
Haugty attitudes, especially from nobles
When people waste or don’t finish their food
Outfits with too many different colors
Hmm, there’s nothing much she dislikes that the average person likes, she thinks.
Babbling bumbling band of buffoons Song: Magical Dream - 808 State Other: Roleplays: The Four Kingdoms |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Name: Raoul Olethros Khatri Bit of a mouthful, yes. He doesn’t mind if you combine first and middle into Raoulethros, but no one wants to say that. Raoul - French name meaning wolf-counsel
Olethros - Greek for destruction
Khatri - Hindu surname, abbreviation of Kshatriya, the warrior caste Roles: a son of Ares always, whether literally or figuratively. Age: 17-19 Gender: male Sexuality: homosexual, always.
masc 4 masc vibes Appearance: A big, hulking brute, the only signifier of Raoul’s young age is the faint traces of fat that refuse to shed from face. From his sizable arms to his toned abdomen and thick thighs, his considerably muscular build gives him an undoubtedly athletic look, thoughhe's not lean enough to be shredded, and still carries a feline grace despite his bulky size. Despite his height, he wishes his legs were longer as he’s not proud of his (in his opinion) too low leg-to-torso ratio. Other than his large stature, Raoul clearly took after his mother’s looks, inheriting her hair and eye colors. His hair, wavy and unruly, is left a tad too long threatening to progress into a mullet down the nape of his neck, and fluffs atop his forehead, stopping just short of his eyebrows. Its dark ruddy hues flame with amber highlights in the sun's ray. Raoul has a tall Roman nose and a wide jaw, the inside of which is filled with big animal-like teeth, misaligned, but clean and paper white. His full lips curl into a perpetual scowl, sulky with a sliver of disdain, occasionally turning up in coy amusement. Beneath thick, boldly defined eyebrows and sweeping curtains of lashes lie languid, weary eyes that, surprisingly enough, make him look more apprehensive and less fierce than the rest of him suggests. Narrow but with a slight upturn, his eyes are of warm brown hues that shift to a lighter rusty gold-brown on the rare occasions they meet sunlight. A few minor scars marr his skin, which is tanned to warm chestnut tones, darker than both his parents. His healthily glowing skin is always hot to the touch as if fueled with some inner radiance. His left wrist is sprained at the moment, but he won't hesitate to let you know he's more skilled with a sword. Modern: Raoul can either be seen sporting baggy pants or short shorts - there is no middle ground. Unless the temperature’s too hot, he’s rarely seen without his black leather jacket, a dated but expensive piece from his otherwise minimalist wardrobe. Fond of jewelry, Raoul always wears his black shark-tooth necklace and occasionally more touches of brighter, faker bling blings. Medieval royalty: Fond of jewelry and lavish clothes and unafraid to flaunt his luxury, Raoul adorns himself in embroidered silks and linen, especially rich autumn colors - red, yellow, swarthy brown. In addition to his gold crown, he sports a necklace gilded gold with the pendant of the Kerradel dragon sigil, its tail and wings furled as it clutches a tiny ruby egg. He always carries with him a small, curved khopesh, the handle inlaid with a garnet gemstone. Personality: If everyone must have an inner conflict, Raoul's primary one is between contentment and ambition. He thinks himself satisfied with what he has but feels there is always a higher thrill to be found; he constantly berates himself for not being more proactive, for failing to distinguish himself from the everydayman who regrets inactions more than actions. A quick but disorderly learner, Raoul musters just enough organization to keep track of his items and whereabouts, and somehow manages to be messy despite the array of servants and maids that frequent his living quarters. Raoul possesses an assertiveness bordering on aggression, with no fear to ask stupid or invasive questions. But he can keep his cool remarkably well and treads carefully when picking fights due to his reluctance to lose, born from a fear of humiliation. The rare bouts of fury are first preluded by hints of annoyance - a twitch of the eyebrow or a flick of his tongue - that devolve into a simmering hostility, threatening to rise and spill over. Raoul's brash nature come out at night; after dusk, whatever little inhibition he had in the day slips away, replaced by reckless abandon and a vulgar playfulness. To many, it’s a relief he’s a heavy sleeper then, his rowdy drunken evening followed long, blissful silence. Though friendly enough, Raoul’s blind in the social sense, awkward but a clingy lurker around the select few he likes, his silence in conversation only occassionally punctured to answer questions and quip random, testy remarks. Blunt about how he feels about otherwise, Raoul is openly, if sometimes teasingly affectionate towards those he likes, and casually aloof towards those he finds uninteresting. It is more of an achievement to receive his rare hatred than his frequent disregard. The only belief that’s constant is a scorn for authority, for there can be no drama with it. Groups always gravitate towards a hierarchy, and he refuses to be anywhere but the top. A spoiled prince accustomed to getting what he wants, Raoul can get ahold of almost anything barring his parents refusal. With a similar temperament to his mother, they run into conflict often, their matching stubbornness pit against each other til he, as the child, must relent in resentful submission. He can’t deny that he feels a spark of excitement at the prospect of fights and drama, for there is an illicit beauty to be found in chaos and destruction, in part due to their rarity in a society that calls for structure. Abilities:
~ With a heightened immune system, Raoul was known to rarely get sick as a child. The most notable incident was a run-in with staph years ago, but he can't recall having been bothered by minor bugs. Fuck overrated elemental manipulation, he’s happy having a conveniently useful power like never having the common cold. He’s figured unsavory moments as a kid, this grants him the peculiar ability to stomach rotten meat and not get (too) sick. ~ A dulled sense of pain as if constantly adrenaline fueled, both a blessing and a curse as it's allowed him to persevere through unpleasant physicalities, but makes him prone to acquiring foolish little injuries. ~ An expert at provocation, Raoul can incite rage in his opponents at a moment’s notice, make their skin crawl, blood simmer, minds scrambled and forgetful. ~ A decent marksman, quick with his fingers, sharp with his eyes, handy with a gun. Bullets won’t do damage against most monsters, but there are enough people as bad as any supernatural beast. ~ Ambidextrous, Raoul uses his right hand for his long-distance weapons and his left for melee weapons. ~ This skill is far from special and more of a hobby. Raoul plays the violin. Though no expert at it, he can squeeze a few tunes out without problem. It's a cruel sounding instrument (Psycho strings, anyone?) with the propensity to screech and whine when not coaxed precisely correctly, unlike the more sophisticated piano. His violin was a gift from his uncle, but he personally would have chosen to learn the saxophone if he could. Strengths:
Physical brute strength
Skilled with a sword Weaknesses:
Knowing when to stop. Stop asking, stop trying, stop.
Has few steadfast beliefs and convictions. Anywhere the wind goes... Likes:
Guns
Graffiti
The outdoors, open spaces
The color red, crimson like blood and wine
Teeth, human or animal - but nice teeth, mind you
Weaponry, fine craftly metalwork. It's more of an aesthetic, dilettante appreciation; he doesn't care for the practical technicalities of the craft.
Cars and vehicles in general. He's not too into machinery and the technical gimmicks, it's much more of an aesthetic obsession.
Dislikes:
“It’s a DISLIKE, not a fear.”
Heights
Talkative chatterboxes
Humiliation
Liars
Especially includes anyone acting holier than thou. Anyone without vice is undeserving of humanity. Backstory: Song: Animal by AURORA Other: Raoul has a turkey vulture familiar named Bedouin (flipping the dictionary to a random page is Raoul's preferred method of scraping for names). Bedouin is unusually small for its species, presumably male, and mostly useless except for the fun (read: gross for everyone except Raoul) party trick of feeding cuts of raw BBQ meat from beak to Raoul's mouth. Less of a pet and more of a casual stalker, Bedouin comes and goes (to where no one knows) and rarely heeds Raoul’s calls. The bird isn’t particularly obedient, especially when compared to Ardor, Raoul’s other animal companion, an old grey-furred mutt, the same timid but friendly she-dog that he’d seen tailing him the streets before later finding at the dog pound. He’d begged his mother to adopt the creature, and she only relent because it was nearly his birthday at the time. Roleplays:
Olympus Academy
The Four Kingdoms |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Birdman
Name: n/a Role: a vulture, an angel, a crone Gender: male / female Age: 69... jk but he could pass for that age. Probably immortal. Sexuality: n/a Appearance: Personality: Strengths: Weaknesses: Likes: Dislikes: Backstory: Other: first conceived as an idea for Cadunt de Matriarchy. Took inspiration from A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
🌸Name: Cressalia Cianna 🌸
nicknamed Cress by her family Role: a princess, an orphan, an angel, a devil.
But mainly a princess. Age: 6 Gender: girl Sexuality: no Appearance: 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 At three and a half feet tall, Cress is on the short side for her age, though somewhat chubby since her mother usually isn’t around to keep her sweet tooth in check. Nonetheless, she walks with a dainty gait and keeps her head held high, proud of being the precious princess she is. The maids dress her in the finest, cutest outfits - frilled dresses, pearly laces, flowery embroidery - and carefully groom her hair to its sleek shininess everyday. Gold curlicues frame her cherubic face, cheeks tinted with a rosy glow … or perhaps it’s just a rash. As medieval parents would know, children are prone to all sorts of unhealthy afflictions; fortunately, Cress is healthy other than the occasional rash or snotty nose. Cress has a snub nose and thin but bright pink lips. She has her father’s eyes, but bigger and framed by those bold curved lashes that children have, forest green and mildly angry despite their coolness, though they’re capable of making that classic puppy dog expression when there’s something she wants. Personality: 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 Outgoing and exuberantly showy, Cress is eager to show off any craft she makes in her spare time, clumsy drawings or embroidery, or recite limericks she memorized. She loves to tell tales and play pretend gossip, the types where the lines blur between fiction and reality. They aren’t lies, they’re stories and imagination, and you can’t blame a child for not knowing, but she’s capable of fluent imagery and quite convincing despite her age. When she speaks her mind with a straight face, she has managed to prank quite a few adults, only breaking into silly, nervous giggles after they find out the truth. The court, or most of it, dotes on her, and Cress herself would rather spend time with her nannies than her parents because she believes the former are nicer. Though seemingly mature for her age and polite with strangers and most acquaintances, she can be snappier around her family. Her temper pounces upon her like a demon, capable of switching from cheerful to sulky quick enough to give one whiplash. But Cress is no devil herself; she merely absorbs the mood of the surrounding environment and magnifies it back. Seeing anyone hurt or sad makes her upset and wanting to help. Must be a good thing then, that she’s never been let outside the borders of the massive court, never witnessed the plight of the poor beyond passing glances of the palace windows. Strengths
Loud scream AAAAAAAAAAAA
Literate! Imagine that?? 🤓
Can play a mean tune on the flute 🎶 Weaknesses
Really ticklish 😆
Is mildly allergic to dogs 🚫🐶
Not scared of strangers (enough)
She is a literal child and is unable to beat any other character in a fight (probably)
Likes
Apples 🍎
Horses 🐴
Meat and sweet foods 🍬
Playing in water 🐟 Dislikes
Dates (the fruit, dumbnut) 📅zzz
Being left alone 😥
Worms 🤢"not in my apples!"
Ghosts (she believe) 👻 Other: fine, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
This is short because … kids are short lmao
I used to tutor 1st graders so I should know what six year olds are like, but... I actually don't Roleplays: The Four Kingdoms |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Girl ☂
Name: Age: 8 Gender: Appearance: Personality: Strengths: Weaknesses: Likes: the rain Dislikes: Other: |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Name: Saori Age: 17 Gender: male Sexuality: bisexual Species: North Island Kokako Role: normal member Role Desired: he doesn't know, he's alright with his current role for now Appearance: Saori has a broad face with a stout nose, but otherwise elfish features, including noticeable cheekbones and prominant colllarbones. His eyes, black as a stareless sky and just as deep, stare thoughtfully as if entranced. Their almond shape doesn't detract from his perpetual wide-eyed look. His blinks seem few and far between, yet when they do occur, they are a slow and languid gesture of sweeping lashes. His eyebrows, though of a thin shape, are boldly defined, with a slight but downwards angular arch.
Saori's black, slightly wavy hair cascades down to a few inches past his shoulders. He usually wears his hair loose, but sometimes braids it for special occassions. Saori is of medium height and build, with muscles not sharply defined, but still visible and more than adequate for surviving in the wild - he's luckily well fed. His rough skin is of a medium brown hue that matches his sister's. The callouses on his hansd and feet stand testament to his many hours climbing trees and general romping around in the forests.
Saori likes to wear colorful trinkets - feathers scavenged from the forest floor, seashell fragments strung on necklaces, bracelets woven from wildflowers or fronds of ferns. His fondness for decoration possibly stems from a subconscious wish to imitate his more striking bird form even while human. 
Personality: A calm, languid demeanor wreathes Saori at all times. For no particular reason at all, his emotions have all been wrapped into a knotted ball and casually tossed in an untouched corner of his mind. They don’t show naturally; to reveal them, he would first have to untangle them from each other, a task he is reluctan to undertake. When met with challenges or annoyances, his instincts urge him to runaway, to ignore them. Only the encouragement of his tribemates can drag him back to face them. Saori falls very easily intorepetitive actions out of boredom, god for busying his hands with harvesting or carrying, or just scenic walks. He can put his restless mind at a bit more ease when it’s high above the clouds. His scatterbrain pays no mind to his surroundings, but he ironically keeps his possessions well-collected and neatly organized. Elusive like the kokako, Saori always seems to disappear right when needed, only to reappear later when all hope has been lost. Not that he can muster much help, but he tries for empathy’s sake. He’ll wander around looking for a chance to pitch in; he’ll return favors (when he doesn’t forget, which is rare). He enjoys the company of his tribe, but often, times they don’t feel real enough. Talk to him, and he twitches and sways as if startled out of deep thought, eyes periodically flicking to the horizon before returning to his listener. This isn’t due to fear, anxiety, or intimidation, but rather, the mere prospect that there is a more interesting sight to behold. Saori dreams big, though not in a particularly optimistic way. He is caught in rapture of possibilities like a shaman, but without the fortuntelling talents, substituting truth for pure unfiltered imagination. When Saori talks, his voice sounds smooth as silver, which distracts from the awkward content of his words. He only opens his mouth to speak whimsical trifles - of the color of the clouds or impossible what ifs - or gravely serious observations - never a balanced middle ground for comfortable conversations. For talk, however meaningful, pales in comparison with the sound of music. Saori has always been fascinated by music, by songbirds and primitive instruments. Singing is his humble passion. Though he never can quite pin down what makes a sound so enchanting, he always manages to find it. When he’s alone, he hums and whistles sweet nothings, and sometimes the birds reply, for they understand better than people that there is nothing to understand. It satisfies him enough to merely exist. Other: eh idk Family/Friends/Crush
twin sister: Sika
|
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Name: Sika Age: 17 Gender: female Sexuality: my usual (bisexual) Species: North Island Brown Kiwi Role: whatever fits her Role Desired: scout Appearance: Sika's kinky hair appears to be in constant motion; some strands fly awrily in the wind while other bouncy coils cradle her face. At parts flaxen, at parts dirty blonde, the overall light color contrasts with her brown skin, which is a similar hue to her kiwi fluff (think Melanesian for her appearance). Also, like a fuzzy kiwi, a faint layer of downy hair covers her skin - there's no shaving out here.
Asides from the different hair, Sika closely resembles her brother in facial features, although her face is more oval and the bushiness of her eyebrows give them a vaguely defined shape. Sika has noticeable cheekbones, a broad nose, and prominent dimples which accompany her everpresent smile.
At 5"7, Sika stands at exactly the same height as Saori, much to her brother's chagrin. She owesmost of her height to her long legs. 
Personality: mega WIP Though Sika’s always enthusiastic to help, her perpetually cheeriness can be deceiving. When faced with disagreement, she can flare into a bickering aggression and put up one hell of a fight. Through it all, her smile remains, albeit sarcastically rather than happily. She prefers to be in control , to lead the way. She’ll dish out advice even if no one asked. Her intentions are good, how could they not be? No motivation by evil, she strives to be moral, but her emotions get in the way. When in a good mood, her contagious exuberance shines louder . Though Not actually talkative, but very cherey and chirrup, energy more stamina than speed. Snarky humor and Very firm that borders on overbearing. That, and the fact she can stay for longer in her shifted form than he can. Nitpicky like Tends to lose things easily, but go Sika takes a great childish pleasure in jabbing and poking at just about anything she can find; she’ll touch others, but she does not like to be touched, not at all. At times, she’ll hide away, when she’s feeling down. There’s Nothing more she’d like to do than to curl up within the rain and . Other: my apologies for taking so long. I always seem to flop with tribal settings. Family/Friends/Crush:
twin brother: Saori |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
For Sleepy's Contest
Massive WIP
Name: Renata Aurelio
Renata - rebirth
Aurelio - the golden one
Some call her R as a nickname - pronounced like the letter R. Rumors abound about that moniker's origin, but Renata neither knows nor care. At any rate, she is fond of her nickname's resemblance to the cliche pirate sound.
Species:
Age: 17
Gender: intersex / demigirl
Renata refers to herself almost exclusively with she / her pronouns. Others can call her by whatever pronouns - he, she, or they - doesn't matter. Just please, do not use two different sets of pronouns to refer to her in the same sentence - that ticks her off.
Sexuality: none of your business
"I'm so in love... with everyone... except you."
Appearance:
Renata is a creature of savage, strange beauty - someone not of this world, and not merely in a figurative sense. Small patches of sunrise-colored scales lay scattered across her skin; ivory colored claws tip each of her long, spiderly fingers. Three parallel vertical slits, each two inches odd in length, slice down each side of her slender neck. At any rate, she can't breathe through them. Renata is definitely more human than fish, or so it seems on the surface.
Renata's hair is buzzed on the sides but full at the top, front, and back - sort of like a wide mohawk. The thick strands are slick, spiny, and stiff like the fins of a fish. Her hair has been bright fuchsia for so long that Renata herself has nearly forgotten her natural hair color. She dyes it to match the color of her eyes, the latter of which are certainly not dyed nor altered, despite their unnatural stare. Wide, luminous orbs of red-pink, deep as the oceans they should've belonged to. LTheir enormous size take up too much of her face. ittle of the eye whites show, and the pupils are but the slightest shade darker than the irises, making her gaze almost inperceptible. Her eyes always seem adrift, gazing off somewhere in the distance. At least she has the excuse of not needing to look people in the eye while speaking.
Her straight downward slanted eyebrows are so and thin pale they're almost invisible her skin. Her lips, though pale and thin, form a prominent Cupid bow. They curl down in disdain or up in amusement. Behind that proud mouth lies too many teeth, each one small, sharp, and ivory white. A gap separates her two front teeth; it's the only quirk that could be considered cute in a homely manner. A silver stud pierces the middle of her tongue, so she's silver tongued so as to speak. Figuratively too, for her voice is as soothing as the chiming of bells.
Her cheekbones, though high, are just faintly visible. With a noticeable jawline but a softness to her cheeks, her face is decidedly androgynous and could pass for a younger male's.
On her arms and legs, permanent goosebumps coat the back of otherwise soft skin. Her skin bruises easily, flushes easily, pales easily. Though naturally a light tan color, it changes almost in a chameleon-like way. Scaled patches, each about the size of a coin lay scattered throughout her body, and a few iridescent scales dot her face lie faint freckles.
Renata has a thin, lanky and tall frame with a flat chest which makes many speculate her to be a trans woman, to her mild chagrin. Knobbly joints on her shoulders, elbows, knees. Her back always curves downward slightly, whether from habit or from a genetic trait, no one is sure. Her spinal disks seem to protrude in small, raised knobs like the spines of some lost dinosaur - they certainly don't look comfortable, though she never complaisn of it. Her large hands are attached to thin wrists that look as if they could be snapped by a strong wind. Her graceful fingers move constantly with fluid gestures as if she's expressing some unknown sign language. Though she fancies the idea of painting her nails, she doesn't want to draw too much attention to them. Some weapons should be kept inconspicuous.
[clothes section WIP]
Personality: WIP
Despite Renata's nihilistic views, she acts surprisingly chipper. Most of the time, a smile graces her face, though with those eyes, it's hard to tell what's sincere. Charming and sociable, she has a way with words. But you should know that the sweetest words are the most dangerous - they flatter and wear down the listener's guard. She can be just as bitter as she is sweet when she laces her words with passive aggressive venom. "sweetheart" and "darling" are her code words for "bitch" and "cunt." Though she would never lie without a good cause, she dabbles in gossip and slander. Being bad is fun, don't you know?
Renata is a bratty bastard, and hell does she know it. She deals in extremes, for modesty and moderation are for the bland and boring. With looks like hers, she had to own it and take control. Better to carry her head high than be downtrodden. She's assertive and vivacious, but her eccentricity has never been forced. She always carries a fidgety, restless energy and a casual disregard for authority.
Renata is quick to annoy; her anger meter is low. Renata is best described as a person of impulse, not planning, of emotion, not reason. If life does not make sense, neither should she. She breaks things just as easily from boredom as from anger, steals things too, though the latter behavior more infrequent because she's more likely to get caught. She has the excuse of being part animal; a literal wildness runs through her veins.
Sometimes her empathy leaps out, surprising herself. She can't restrain it totally. She knows kindness is not a weakness, but she can't help but feel as though she's betraying herself somehow, chipped away at the badass facade . She doesn't grow attached easily at all - being in love is like being high, but with more heartbreak. She makes many acquaintances and few friends, speaks many words of little substance. The loneliness can get crushing sometimes, but only when she's physically alone. She keeps herself surrounded with others to be entertained, sucks up the energy in the room in a vampiric fashion.
Strengths:
+ Renata is quicker and stronger than one would expect from a skinny frame. Her physical strength comes in bursts.
+ Clever with her hands
+ A shark-like sense of smell
+ Renata is a little charmer who feeds off fear and desire. Manipulative and gets what she wants, when she wants it.
Weaknesses:
- Renata's restricted peripheral vision and her eyes extra sensitivity to light makes for poor eyesight, not to mention her tritanopia colorblindness.
- Her sensitive skin is susceptible and has a nasty reaction to bug bites. She rarely goes outside, rarely leaves the shelter of buildings.
- Temper. Renata is notorious difficult to work with on any collaborative project and known for her spiteful outbursts that seem to come from nowhere.
- Trust issues. Renata harbors a genuine disdain for anyone attempting to get to close to her.
Likes:
+ Metal. Like a magpie, she finds herself attached to shiny, metallic things. Her favorite element, for no practical reason, is osmium - a susbtance
+ Herpetology. Not quite the science itself, but the animals it's concerned with - snakes, gators, toads, salamanders, the less cuddly creatures that slither and crawl.
+ Ironic humor, dark humor. A touch of the absurd or macabre makes the world more vivid.
+ Vaporwave aesthetic.
+ Right aligned text, or alternating left and right aligned passages of text.
Dislikes:
- Needles. A former phobia of hers, though she's had to face them so much that now they merely vex her.
- Sugar. Excessively sugary foods which includes almost all candy, though she chews sugarfree gum 24/7.
- Phone calls. Her phone is always on silent and she rarely picks it up even if she feels the vibration.
- Large bodies of water. Ironic considering she is a fish hybrid, but they make her feel like a failure. She especially hates being referred to as a mermaid, mer-anything or fantasy aquatic creature.
- Abrasive, chemical scents. From bleach to formaldehyde, her keen nose knows the difference and hates them all the same.
- Interruptions.
Trivia:
- Renata prefers to write by hand rather than type. Though the latter is far quicker, writing traditionally is more... stylish, bears more of a flourish. Her handwriting is slanted, condensed, and angular, though legible and consistent - pretty in a modern way. Using a blunt pencil grates on her nerves, and she prefers to use pens.
- Like a habitual smoker, Renata craves something to hold in her mouth at all times - thus the perpetual gum chewing. She carries around her favorite fountain pen just so she can place it in her mouth like a cigarette whenever she's nervous or irritated.
- She despises using passive voice in writing. Furthermore, she even hates to use the word "is" and any forms of "to be" - she'll convolute her sentences grotesquely just to avoid using them.
- Diamonds and Toads is both her favorite and least favorite fairytale. At any rate, it's a story she spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about.
Theme Song*
Backstory: WIP - I don't think I'll be able to finish this section in time... even though it is quite detailed and important compared to those for other OCs. Will share later :3
Other: this took my blood sweat and tears to write because when my RP doc got deleted, 2k words of her profile were lost and I had to rewrite her from scratch on mobile two days before contest ended :)
|
|
|
Fall Month: 1 
Night Weather: 
Clear Moon: 
