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Darkseeker
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please don't post if your name is not in the title! |
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Neutral
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reserving for my character(s) !!! Name: Indigo "Indie" Elliot
Age: Freshly 19
Gender: Female
Role: The Human Refugee
Sexuality: A closeted lesbian; could be up for debate
Appearance: Indigo is nothing short of eye-catching. With a curvy build and a fuller bust, most would consider her to be desirable. She stands at roughly five foot four with smooth, sun-kissed skin and littered freckles and beauty marks that make her identifiable in a crowd. She has very few scars - the majority of them being from her childhood and working on a smaller farm and simply being a child. Her skin tone is a bit more on the tan side with an orange-ish undertone. Her build is slim yet curvy - especially in her hips and bust areas, with thicker thighs and such. Indigo has slender hands and arms, slightly toned as she does know how to work. Regardless, you can tell this woman is active and could consider her blessed in the genetic department.
Indigo has what could be considered a heart face shape. A little bit wider in the cheek area and more pointed, yet flat, where her chin lies. Speaking of, her cheekbones sit high and are a bit defined, alongside her jawline which is a bit more soft. Her eyes sit at a normal distance apart, being a bit more round in shape. They are a bright hazel in color, leaning more towards the green side of things with flecks of what appears to be brown. They are rimmed with thin yet long lashes, complimented by her defined eyebrows. Her eyebrows, although thin, are dark in color, and have a slight arch towards the end. Indigo's nose is a bit smaller with only a tiny bump in the middle and is upturned at the end. Below are her plump lips - both top and bottom are full and are a pale pink in natural color. Indigo wears minimal makeup - normally some sort of lip and light blush. Her face is covered in freckles, specifically across her nose bridge and cheeks.
Indigo has dirty blonde hair with natural lighter highlights from her days out in the sun. It sits just past her shoulder blades, most likely tied back in a messy braid. She's able to style it if needed, though that's nothing that she's managed to do for a while. It has a natural wave to it, though nothing more than a rare curl that seems to sit under the top layers. It is thick and soft, fly aways common from her face. She keeps it parted down the middle as well and has a very small widow's peak. There is a small cowlick in the front left side, giving it slightly more volume than the other though it isn't super prominent.
Indigo's wardrobe is full of mostly 'masculine' clothing, but that isn't to say she wouldn't wear something more common for someone like her. Jeans and a button-up shirt are her go-to as she finds it easier to move in. And well, now, to disguise herself as well. She keeps herself in minimal colors - neutrals, sometimes blue or green as she favors those more than others. She wears an undershirt and brown boots. Indigo also has a dark brown hat, classical in look like any other of her era.
Personality: Reserved | Independent | Adventerous Philisophical | Tempered | Mature Loyal | Pacifist
Strengths: + Loyal
+ Agile + Horseback riding + Tracking + Working alone
Weaknesses: -Tempered -Swimming -Firearms -Combat, especially hand to hand
Likes: + Homemade meals + Adventuring + Reading + Working
Dislikes: -Bodies of water -Alcohol -Colder weather -Feeling trapped Affiliations: Other: |
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Darkseeker
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Name Ayla Makaria Dyson Species/Role Vampire Age ~100 years old; physically 18 Gender Female - she/her Sexuality Bisexual Appearance Appearance-wise, Ayla is a relatively unintimidating figure - small and slight, she only stands at about 5'2. She uses her unassuming looks to her advantage, however; despite what her size suggests, Ayla's body is made up almost entirely by lean muscle. She's more than able to hold her own in combat. Ayla's facial features are rather plain. She's not ugly, but she doesn't possess an exceptional beauty either. Her skin is deeply tanned and weathered from years spent in the sun. Her face is round, but her cheekbones and jaw are quite prominent in relation to her face shape. Her nose is small and straight, ending in a slight slope, and her lips are curved and dusky-colored. Her eyes are quite round and large; deep hazel in color, they are framed by dark lashes and thick, ungroomed brows. She has a smattering of brown freckles across her entire face and partially down her neck. A life spent on the run from the law requires Ayla to constantly alter her hair, but it's currently just past her shoulders. She usually ties it back in a ponytail to keep the strands out of her eyes, as it's very wavy and thick. In the past, she's rubbed clay and dirt into it to give it a more auburn appearance, but now it's her natural dark brown. Ayla tends to gravitate towards mens' clothing in terms of attire; it's just more practical for her lifestyle. She can often be seen wearing oversized button-downs and baggy jeans or heavy-duty work pants; during the colder months, she adds an ancient navy coat that she wears religiously during the winter. For footwear, she wears an old pair of hand-me-down boots, gifted to her by someone in the gang, that are a touch too big for her. She never goes anywhere without her hat to shield her from the sun; it's old, dusty, and a deep maroon color, though it's so faded that it looks mostly brown at this point. Ayla has a long, puckered scar running vertically down her left forearm. Personality Ayla is a relatively quiet person. She doesn't speak unless she has something to say; when it comes to her lifestyle, she's learned that it's better to be silent sometimes. She is very straightforward and blunt with strangers, and can often come off as rude or inconsiderate. Being polite is usually the last thing on her mind, in all honesty. She's very unwilling to give up any details about herself to those she doesn't know well. Ayla is also extremely resilient and dedicated. A life spent in a gang, especially one comprised of vampires, can be difficult. She's adaptable and prepared to follow the other members of the nest wherever they go. To be honest, she doesn't feel much affection or loyalty towards them; it's simply safest for her to live among other members of her kind. Ayla was turned at such a young age that it's hard for her to remember what it was like to be mortal. However, she misses the sense of normalcy that came with it. She doesn't hate her life now, but sometimes she wishes she could do things like walk in the sun or make trips into town without concealing her identity. Strengths +Physical strength +Intelligence +Some medical knowledge +Survival skills +Cunning Weaknesses -Small stature -Short temper -Cannot withstand direct sunlight -Experiences bloodlust if she has gone without feeding for a long period Likes -Being alone in nature -Mountains -Nighttime -Snow Dislikes -The sun -Strangers (especially those who go poking around in her business) -Horses -Animal blood Affiliations The Red Moth gang Other Ayla rides a dappled gray gelding named Dragon. She isn't the most comfortable around horses and would prefer to walk, but some of the nest's journeys require travel on horseback. They make a good pair, but are still a bit cautious around one another. |
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Darkseeker
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Name Lowell Solomen Harkness Gender Male - he/him Age 26 Birthdate January 15th - Capricorn Sexuality Gay (closeted) Appearance Lowell's most striking feature is his fiery red hair. It is a dark auburn in color and slightly wavy towards the ends. It reaches about halfway down his neck; he typically wears it down, but he occasionally ties it back when he needs it out of his face. Another of Lowell's noticeable traits is his milky-pale skin. No matter how long he spends in the sun, it remains the same fair white shade - after his burns have disappeared, of course. He has a thin scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and his shoulderblades. Lowell isn't particularly tall, standing at only about 5'7. He is fairly stocky, however, and obviously quite muscular. He has several faded, poorly-inked tattoos, including a lion in the center of his chest, a rose on his left bicep, and a mountain across his spine about halfway down his back. Lowell's facial features are fairly soft and unremarkable. His chin and cheekbones are not very prominent, giving his face a round appearance, and his small button nose only adds to this effect. His eyes are almond-shaped and an icy blue color, framed by fair, reddish brows and lashes. He has a spiderweb-shaped scar located at the corner of his right eye. Lowell is missing his right leg, and wears a metal-and-leather prothesis in place of it. The design of the prosthetic often gives him blisters and small wounds, however, so he needs frequent breaks from wearing it. Personality Lowell's personality is best described as gruff. He can come off as quite short and blunt, especially when he's after a mark. He's fairly introverted and doesn't like others prying into his business, particularly strangers. Lowell is incredibly intelligent, however, and loves to learn. His upbringing and current profession mean that he doesn't have the opportunity to get an official education, but he is always on the lookout for an opportunity to learn something new. He loves to read, especially myths and folklore about various supernatural creatures. Lowell has a soft spot for kids and those who are down on their luck. Though he doesn't make much as a bounty hunter, when he's in the city, he often slips a coin or two to the kids begging on the streets, and he always patronizes the general stores and market stalls that seem to be struggling the most. He's quick to snap at anyone who points out this gentler side of him, though. Strengths · Weaponry, particularly guns · Good with animals · Intelligent and creative · Physical strength Weaknesses · Short temper · Antisocial · Somewhat of a daydreamer · Fear of deep, running water Likes · Reading · Learning the folklore and mythology of the various areas he visits · Cats · Being outdoors · Beer Dislikes · Strangers · Hot weather · Insects · Wearing his prosthetic Other Lowell rides a dark bay mare named Skadi, who he's had since he was a teenager. Skadi's name comes from a book on Norse mythology that Lowell owned as a child. |
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Neutral
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res for my brother mwahah
Name: Dallas Logan Harkness
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heteroseuxal
Role: Bounty Hunter
Appearance:
Personality:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Affiliations:
Other:
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Darkseeker
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Ayla wove throughout the cabins, jumping from the shadow cast by one building to another in a heartbeat. The canyon was illuminated by the setting sun's rays, but Ayla's hat was pulled low enough over her face - her only bit of exposed skin - to shut the light out. The canyon was eerily silent; Ayla assumed that the rest of her fellow outlaws were still asleep. Compared to them, she was quite the early riser. Most of them were too afraid of even the last remnants of light to emerge until total darkness had fallen. They had struck gold, stumbling across this refuge. There were at least a dozen cabins wedged into the canyon, and its high walls blocked out most direct sunlight, excluding the middle of the day, when the sun was directly overhead. Before, they had all been living on borrowed time. Every night was a frantic scramble to find adequate shelter for everyone before dawn. Ayla reached the end of the canyon, where they had fashioned a half-collapsed old shack into a stable for the few horses that the group possessed. Dragon stood dozing in the makeshift round pen they'd propped up using the wreckage from the shack; he whickered softly as Ayla approached. She vaulted over the fence quickly and smoothed a hand over his ash-colored neck, laughing as he nuzzled at the bits of stale bread stashed in her pocket. Ayla and the rest of the gang had no use for regular food, but she always made sure to tuck some away for Dragon. She heard the approaching footsteps long before their owner came into her line of sight. Whoever it was made no attempt to disguise the sound of their approach, and it became obvious why as they rounded a rocky outcrop jutting from the canyon wall. Callum strode into view, casting his gaze around until it landed on Ayla, who sighed in exasperation. Callum was the new, self-proclaimed leader of the Red Moth gang - he'd insisted they adopt that stupid name, too, like they were some organized crime syndicate terrorizing the West. He had squirmed his way into the position after their previous leader Vernon had an unfortunate encounter with a well-prepared farmer wielding a stake. They had been too busy panicking to officially choose another leader, and before they knew it, Callum had inserted himself into the role. Ayla supposed he was one of the better-suited members for the role. He was older than most of them by a few centuries and had spent the majority of his long life running from the law. Though he hadn't found it, he'd been the one to insist that they adopt the cabins as their unofficial home base, and he'd managed to keep all their remaining members alive so far. "Callum," Ayla called stonily, hoping he would take the hint and turn back the way he came. He did not. "Ayla. Where are you headed to so early in the night?" She pursed her lips and prayed for patience. "Just out to hunt. Wanted to let Dragon stretch his legs, too." She patted his side for emphasis, and the gelding convincingly snorted and tossed his head restlessly. Callum watched her with an odd expression on his face. His eyes were an eerie ice-blue, evidently made more intense by his vampirism. "We have plenty of prey back at the mess hall." Ayla nearly gagged at the thought of the pile of small game strewn across the floor of the largest cabin. It would all be stiff and cold by now; Callum knew better than to expect them to sustain themselves on that. "I'll try and get extra," she suggested. "Replenish the stores a bit." Callum was silent for an uncomfortably long moment, his pale eyes boring into Ayla's painfully. "All right," he said finally. "Be careful." Ayla had to suppress her sigh of relief as he turned on his heel and made his way slowly back towards the rest of the cabins. Dragon whinnied and nuzzled her shoulder sympathetically. The group kept their small amount of tack in the only part of the ruined building that still had a roof over it. Ayla rummaged around until she found Dragon's saddle, blanket, and bridle, and hurried back to the pen. She didn't want Callum to change his mind and come looking for her again. The sun had almost completely dipped below the horizon by the time Ayla finished tacking up Dragon. She hoisted herself tentatively into the saddle; she was still somewhat unfamiliar with horses in general, having only been allowed to ride her own starting a few months prior. Vernon had been quite meticulous about who was allowed steeds and who wasn't. She steered Dragon out of the makeshift round pen and towards the mouth of the canyon, where the ground gently sloped up until it was even with the canyon walls. The sun had completely set, revealing a brilliant canopy of stars overhead. Ayla pulled her hat off of her head and turned her face up towards the moonlight, basking in its cool glow. She hadn't outright lied when she told Callum that she was going to hunt. She would certainly try to catch herself a rabbit or a deer on her way back, but more than anything, she wanted to stretch her legs. She knew that the canyon was an unlikely safe haven for a group like them, but after a few weeks it had become unbearably stifling. She desperately needed to get out, explore a bit. Once she reached the top of the canyon, she saw that the lights of the nearby town were visible. She'd heard some of the other outlaws discussing the little civilization; apparently it was growing rather quickly in size, though it was still primarily dependent on the surrounding farmers for its income and livelihood. Ayla paused. If she kept her head down, none of the humans in the town would notice anything suspicious about her. Plus, she could always sneak onto one of the neighboring ranches on her way out and kill a cow or sheep to feed on. That would definitely be more filling than a measly rabbit. Callum had outright forbidden them from going anywhere near town, however. He believed that it was too close to the cabins, and intermingling with its humans would put their new home at risk. Since when had Ayla ever leapt at the chance to listen to Callum, though? She inhaled quickly through her nose and dug her heels into Dragon's sides, turning him towards the distant lights of the town. |
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Neutral
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All Indigo had to do was make it out alive. That was it. Once she had enough resources she could leave this place - maybe the entire country - behind. She couldn't say that she wanted to stick around, but as of now, it would be the only choice she had. She wore rags on her back and appeared as though she had not seen a hot bath in months, when really, it had only been about five days.
She could still remember the scene of the crime. A man, angered by what she had assumed to be his wife. On the outskirts of another town, just like this one. It made her believe she couldn't escape it no matter how hard she tried. Ever since it happened, her breaths were shorter and her eyes were constantly wide like a deer before it gets shot.
Indigo sniffled, not wanting to think of the moment that got her into this new one. But it was all she could manage to think about for some reason. Was it guilt? Sympathy? Hatred? Sadness? Whatever it was, it would be painted on her face and behind her eyes for the rest of her life.
She stood near the only hotel in the town, construction noises flowing into her ears as she approached. Entering, she could feel the only pair of eyes in the room scan her up and down. It was late, she knew, but she couldn't help but hope that the owner of the hotel would just let her spend the night. Her exposed legs (which normally wouldn't be an issue) displayed something of hurt and distress as did the look plastered on her face.
"Can I get a room... just for the night?" She asked softly. Her voice was hoarse and raspy. Her throat had grown quite dry.
"I-I suppose," the man stuttered. Had he known who she was? No. That would be too fast of travel. There was no way that the ground she had covered to get away from that other town had also followed her same path. While she was wanted, she saw no posters of her face. Unless maybe the man felt bad, but how often was that?
He offered her a key and guided her to the room. Indigo asked for no other serivce, but when she heard the man depart, she was quick to lock the door. She glanced at herself in the mirror that was in the corner of the small room. She sighed softly, unable to recognize herself at this point. She took a deep inhale followed by a deep exhale, attempting to calm herself.
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Indigo did not sleep that night. She lay awake, stirring in her dirty clothes and her own filth on the bed. She stared at the ceiling for a good while before she would finally rise from the bed, quick to exit the door as fast as she could.
The streets of the town were nice - cobbled yet dusty. Much better than anywhere else she had been in recent memory. She could smell the livestock and the new buildings that were slowly but surely being built. The night was a bit more young than she had anticipated as members of the town still roamed the streets, some eyes landing on her. Indigo had expected this, but some of them felt more violent than others. Good or bad intentions, she was unsure of what to trust so she simply continued on.
Indigo had mustered up the courage to enter one of the stores. It was the general store, barely still open. The door bell from above rang as the door swung open then shut, slightly startling her. She swallowed, shaking her head, knowing it was nothing to be scared of. What had happened to her?
She turned to her left to see a fully stocked shelf of canned goods. Peaches, beans, corn... you name it. She had felt quite empty these past few days, but didn't really bother trying to fulfill her hunger as her mind was elsewhere. Now that some things were settled, it was something that had floated in her mind aside from... the incident.
Indigo looked around, knowing she didn't have anything to offer. With no money or weapons, she wasn't going to protect herself in this place. Glancing over, she could see the store clerk turned and probably half awake. Nobody else was around, so sneakily she had grabbed two cans of corn and stuffed them into her underdress.
"Have a good night," she said while leaving. The clerk barely acknowledged her, which caused her to slightly smile on her way out.
Indigo made it towards the edge of the town, sitting beneath a tree. She looked up, the night sky clear and the moonlight bright. She was quick to eat, but at least she would be in peace for now.
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Darkseeker
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Dragon snorted as Ayla urged him through the streets of the town; she shushed him softly, rubbing his neck in an attempt to settle him. The town was significantly smaller than she'd expected, its streets and buildings less well-maintained than she'd assumed. Clouds of red dust rose around Dragon's hooves with each step the gelding took, turning his legs an unappealing shade of dirt brown. They passed a tree at the edge of town with a figure seated beneath it. Ayla tugged her hat back on to her head and nodded respectfully towards the silhouette, taking care to keep her face low and hidden. She was nearly overwhelmed when she reached the center of town. Sure, it was a tiny farming settlement, but Ayla hadn't been in any sort of civilization besides the tiny abandoned cabins for longer than she could remember. Here was a bar, there a general store, a restaurant tucked away on a smaller side street... She slid off of Dragon's back and secured his reins to a hitching post. He eyed her lazily and flicked his tail, catching her in the wrist. She chuckled and patted his flank, then turned to survey her surroundings. She decided on the bar first. There would likely be some other shady characters inside, so she would look a tad less suspicious with her hat on and her head low. She pushed through the creaky swinging doors and into the building. It was almost dimmer inside than out in the night. A few candles were lit in the corners of the sprawling room, but most of it was cast in shadow. There were only a few patrons scattered about, and a large, tattooed man stood behind the bar, wiping out a series of dust-covered glasses. Ayla sauntered across the room and slid onto one of the barstools as casually as she could manage. "Whiskey, please," she said to the barkeep, who nodded and turned his attention to one of the kegs along the wall behind him. Ayla eyed the bar's few other patrons. All men, she noted; only two were together, while the rest seemed to be on their one, slumped drunkenly in their seats. Based on their clothing, she'd guess they were farmers, searching for some relief after a long day of tending their stock or working their fields. The barkeep slid Ayla's drink across the surface to her, and she nodded gratefully. A few of the patrons' eyes were lingering on her a little too long for comfort. She sipped her drink quickly and kept a close watch on them out of the corner of her eye. Once she had finished, she fished a few coins out of her pocket and slid them to the barkeep. Thankfully, none of the other patrons followed her when she slipped out of her seat and back into the night. She headed for the general store next. It was fairly large compared to the size of the town, and stocked with anything the homesteaders out here could have dreamed of. Ayla knew that the food lining the shelves would do nothing for her appetite, but she snatched up a can of peaches anyway, delighted that such a delicacy could be found all the way out here. The cashier eyed her as she paid for the peaches and an oatcake for Dragon, which was to be expected; she couldn't keep her face covered so close to another person, and the pale pallor of her skin was quite noticeable close up. She slid the can into her coat pocket and hurried out before the shopkeeper could get too close of a look. Dragon whinnied at her as soon as she stepped into the street; Ayla laughed and returned to his side. He gobbled the oatcake greedily from her hand, then nosed at her pockets in the hopes of finding more. He sniffed at her can of peaches for a moment, but decided that it was nothing worth his interest. Ayla untwined his reins from the hitching post and slung them over her shoulder. She pulled her pocketknife from her trousers pocket and sliced open the top of the can of peaches. Using the curved metal lid as a spoon, she dug in to the peaches and she and Dragon strolled side-by-side down the dusty street. She could still spot the figure beneath the tree at the edge of town. She hadn't seen anyone else out loitering at this time of night; if she could strike quickly and quietly enough, she might get the most filling meal she'd had in a long time. She'd planned to swing by one of the neighboring farms and prey on a cow or sheep before returning to the cabins, but a human was much more tantalizing prey. Ayla finished her peaches and tucked the empty can into Dragon's saddlebags as she tied him silently to another nearby hitching post. He seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and was quiet as well, his usual whickers and snorts absent. Ayla slunk behind a nearby house and followed the path of alleyways it made with other nearby buildings. She could nearly reach the tree and the person under it this way; she would only have to be exposed for a few moments until she could strike. All things considered, this was the perfect prey, but something gave her pause. There was an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach, something telling her to wait and see before she pounced. She crept into the shadows of a nearby feed store and crouched against the building's wall, her eyes still trained on the silhouette under the tree as she waited. |
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Summer 
Night 
Fog Moon: 
