— 1 —

S A S H A
[ defender of mankind ]
(proof you need only be a lunatic to be acknowledged by the divine)

“ I CHOOSE YOU, BITCH!! ”

Full Name: 명하나 (Myeong Ha-na)
Nickname: Sasha
Gender: Female
Species: Human (Blessed)
Age: [Recently] 12 (June 06, 2007)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Appearance:
Sasha is known to induce existential crises. The moment someone's eyes land upon her abomination of a person, the only thing their brain can do is flood itself with questions. What's up with her hair? Can purple even look that bright? What are those green specks? Who dyed that shit? When was it last combed? Are those horns? Why is she barefoot? Why is her shirt all torn up? Why is she wearing size XXXXXL pants? Why does she have mud on her face? Is that warpaint? Who let this child roam the streets? Where are her parents? Is she a hallucination? Can this disaster of a tiny child truly even... be? Is she real? What is "real"? What is reality? Did this 4'2" chaotic heap of human flesh tear it into two to make way for her absolutely diabolical existence?

To all of this, she can only say, "Okay, I don't look that bad."

And... she's correct. Only to a certain degree.

See, every fiber of her being is, frankly, a sight to run away from lest you get jumped by death itself or something. It begins with her hair: it's purple. Okay, not too bad, right? Plenty of people have dyed purple hair. But, no, this is a... different shade of purple. Very, very different shade. Not only was the job of dyeing done rather shittily as there are spots of... oddly, green scattered about, congregated near the back of her head, but the color chosen is extremely purple. More than just neon purple, brighter than the world's future, capable of rivaling what was once the sun, perhaps coming to existence as the new sun—the very definition of intense. No, it's beyond intense. It's scintillating, refulgent, lustrous, ablaze, and every other synonym, almost glowing with migraines when light is enough of a masochist to touch it. Hell, with how inconceivably fulgurant every inch of it is, it might be producing its own light. And, tragically, it only gets worse from there. The mockery of hair looks like it hasn't been combed in centuries, millennia, mega-anna, eons, as if the girl was never introduced to the concept of hair care. It's as if a mop was decapitated, thrown down a cliff, strangled, drowned, murdered to death, bludgeoned to the afterlife with a sledgehammer, fed to a cow, got shat down Niagra Falls, violently blowdried, and then given a casket in the form of her scalp. It's a fucking mess. No one can figure out just where it starts. Her hairline is unknown. There's no order to it, no pattern. Artists and biologists alike are crying as they attempt to study it to no avail. It's spiky, curly, matted, and straight all at once, a monstrous salad of all hair types, the epitome of asymmetry, of disaster. And she adores it.

Then, there's her devil horns headband. At first glance, they just look like a part of her Mephistophelian hair, but, upon second glance, one would realize that, no, they're not random spikes, but rather horns. They protrude outward from right above her forehead, then curl inward around the middle, ending in a slight spiral at the very pointed tips. It's colored in a purple-to-pink gradient from base to tip, beginning as a hue strangely too much like the color of her hair and ending as an almost soft shade of pink, and the paint is beginning to flake off, revealing the silver shade of metal that the horns are made of. The headband itself has been devoured by her hair, almost making the horns look like a genuine part of her. If she didn't have to sleep, she'd wear the headband all the time, and everyone would think that the horns weren't fake at all, but alas, it's uncomfortable laying down on her side with them on, so she has to take them off every time before bed.

And now we come to her face. Her very, very confusing face.

It's a mix between adorable and nightmarish. You look at it and don't know whether to coo or question the world of DNA. Her visage starts off cute enough: rounded and small, cheeks chubby like a six-year-old's, nose in the shape of a button. And then it goes downhill from there. First off, her forehead. Her grievous hair does a fine job making it look normal, bangs so catastrophically long that they almost fall in her eyes, but when the wind blows the tresses out of the way, in comes the forehead reveal. The thing is absolutely massive. It takes up almost half of her face. Who knows if it's a tumor of some sort, shoving the rest of her features down a whole several inches to make room for its malignant growth, or just some sort of genetic fuckassery. Either way, it's just Not Normal. And her eyes. Her eyes. They're too far away from her nose. They'd look perfectly fine otherwise, with their downturned, monolid shape and short lashes, the only thing otherwise truly strange from them being the chartreuse-green irises, an unusual shade for her East Asian race. But... they're just... so far from her nose. It's like her creator took her eyes, whacked them where they're supposed to be, went, "Hmm, maybe not," and then pulled them outward a full inch from their original location. Her left eye might even be further from her nose than her right one is! And her chin is too small, her upper lip so much thinner than her bottom lip, and her too-yellow teeth are crooked as hell, and she's got a ridiculously horrible overbite, and one side of her face looks straighter than the other, and yet, yet, yet... she still looks enchantingly endearing. It makes no sense, absolutely no sense whatsoever. But Sasha has masterfully balanced the impossible, made utter ugliness flawlessly coexist with what can only be defined as purely lovable—somehow, someway.

Luckily, her overall look gets tamer from here. Her torso is just a little bit longer than her legs, arms gangly like every other pre-teen's. She's beyond skinny, bones protruding in such a way that one would think she was a mere skeleton barely cloaked in ever-so-slightly tanned skin. Her oversized clothes help hide her emaciated state, though, but the rips in her sky-blue t-shirt (she tore it up herself with a knife, thinking it looked cooler than way) allow brief peeks at just how scrawny she is. Her too-big red jeans, stolen from a man three times her size, do great at hiding the stick-like condition of her legs. She doesn't bother with shoes, thinking it's rather badass to look like she can handle the roughness of asphalt roads and concrete. As for accessories other than her aforementioned headband, she wears a gold chain necklace with a diamond-shaped green pendant attached to the end, given to her by her mother, and she would rather die before she lost it.

Unfortunately, she isn't going to look this fashionably simple for long. As if the hurricane that is the shit on her head wasn't enough, she's planning on turning herself even more into a heart attack once she gets her hands on someone's wardrobe. She wants to wear a quilted scarf, Hawaiian shirt, a white-and-purple jacket, torn jeans with one rolled up, maybe some bright green crocs... And so much more. Oh, so much more. God help the people who've made the mistake of being on her side when this day inevitably arrives.

Height: 4'2" (127 cm.)
Weight: 66 lbs. (~30 kg.)
Body: Ectomorph, pear-shaped, near-gaunt.

Voice: [ Emily Neves ]. Loud, high-pitched, and can be beyond grating.
Accent: General American English.

Personality:
Sasha can be summarized in one sentence: fucking insane. Those who have had the misfortunate of becoming acquainted with her have said she deserves not only to be admitted to some sort of asylum but to have the entirety of a single psychiatric hospital dedicated solely to her care alone. She is certifiably out of her mind, a professional at being demented, deranged seemingly since birth. Whether she was born raving mad or was made such by some shitty event in her young years is unknown, though many suspect the former to be most accurate, for she was born to a rather normal, healthy family. The only thing in her life that could have possibly contributed to her disturbing nature was the mysterious death of her father when she was four years of age, but, with how young she was at the time and considering that he died far from where she was, it's unlikely his passing attributed to her unhinged behavior. Perhaps she was just... born wrong, sick in the head, her neurons in dire need of rewiring.

Her teachers in kindergarten certainly thought so. The girl either couldn't do anything but scream at the adults, kick and throw anything within reach, tear up paper, destroy other students' things, and just couldn't sit still, or, she'd be a perfect angel, all smiles and compliance, only speaking up in a soft voice when called upon. Sometimes, she'd come in a monster and leave an angel, or come in an angel and leave a monster. Other times, she came in a monster and left a monster. It was rare she'd come in an angel and leave as one. Her two-faced actions led many to believe she was possessed, and a good few offered her mother a free exorcism, which she vehemently rejected. She believed her daughter was simply tricky and problematic, and that the girl would eventually grow out of her fractiousness as she aged.

And then the girl, aged seven, tried stabbing a classmate's eye out with a ruler.

That was when her mother decided to give up on her. The girl was sent overseas to her uncle, a former Marine. He managed to convince his sister to allow him to legally adopt her daughter so he could "fix" her "much quicker," and the woman agreed after only a week of contemplation. During and after the whole process, under the gentle guidance of her intimidating uncle, the girl, now named Myeong Ha-na and eight years old, began behaving rather normally, going to bed on time, never raising her voice, keeping her things organized, and doing her chores without throwing a tantrum. Even at school, she was being normal, making friends and doing exceedingly well academically. Her uncle had hope that she would remain acting as such from then on. Alas, his expectations were too high; at some point, triggered by an event he couldn't pinpoint, the girl turned into a demon once more, shattering her bedroom window with a book and tearing up her pillows with scissors, screaming curse after curse at him when he attempted to stop her, even trying to hit him with her lamp. He pulled her out of school after deeming her too dangerous to be around other students, teachers, and people in general, and kept her locked up in her bedroom. He hired tutors for her, who all quit teaching for good after lasting barely a week dealing with her. He provided for her needs as much as he could, but she was ungrateful and only shouted complaints at him. And he did his best, he really did, but the girl was proving simply... too impossible to handle. Then, when she started talking to the air, bidding the ceiling goodnight and saying she had a god for a friend, without consulting her mother first, he gave her up to the foster care system.

She got a little better after that. A little.

Despite her tamer nature as compared to the beast she formally was, most families couldn't take her on for more than a month at a time. Once, she was under the care of a foster parent for only a week. No one could handle her erratic actions, her carnal mood swings, her tantrums when she didn't get what she wanted, and her immaturity. The girl went from family to family, home to home, therapist to therapist, but nobody could fix her. There was a time when she started hating moving around so much and tried to be stable so she could be accepted for once, but, to both her and everyone else's chagrin, the devil inside her would break loose again no matter how much effort was put into keeping it chained up. It was a day after she turned eleven that she gave up on the idea of sanity, retreating to "her" bedroom after a few hours of being nice, and then packed up the measly items that were her things in a small backpack, and left for good.

They only looked for her for three days.

And then she was living on the streets.

She got better after that. The tiniest bit better.

She learned very, very quickly that no one would give her food if she was being a brat, that people could be more violent than her, and adults found pitiful things adorable enough to be nice to them. So, she forced herself to be an angel once more, even during her episodes of being the definition of nuts, throwing on the mask when necessary and keeping it glued to her face for as long as she could—which wasn't long at all, actually: a few days at most, a few minutes at the least. And as she grew more and more frustrated with not being herself as often as she wanted to be, the shorter she could keep behaving normally. It was only thanks to the voice in her head, who would later introduce himself by a name she'd immediately shorten to "KJ," that she managed to keep herself in check. He told her that it was too much of a risk and a threat to her life if she took out her devilish ways on others of her own species, so he suggested she throw her frustrations towards beings who couldn't quite fight back, and she did so, tormenting all animals except for raccoons, dogs, and snakes by chasing them around, throwing things at them, and shrieking at them when they hadn't noticed her existence yet. Only cats couldn't be bothered to pay attention to her, which she hated them for. She would also periodically break things in alleyways and knock over trash cans just for the hell of it. But there were also days when she didn't feel like doing anything, when she wondered if it was better to just go back to the system and put up with people who hated her, when she did nothing but stand around in a random playground and be angry at her family for giving up on her, and when she obtained a burst of rationality and would become angry at herself for not being a good child. However, these days didn't last very long, and she'd be back to her manic, manipulative self in no time.

And this was her life for a few months: being insane in private and morphing into a pathetic little angelic creature whenever she needed to beg for food, clothes, or a place to stay.

Then, she was struck by lightning.

It'd been a few weeks since KJ visited her in her head, and she was starting to lose her mind without him and with only the company of the raging elements around her. Around the third day of the violent thunderstorms, she became too hungry to stay in the newly abandoned mall she had been living in on-and-off since April, and began wandering the streets of New York City in search of something to shove down her throat. Right as she entered an alley that wasn't quite as flooded as all the others, KJ promptly popped into her head and told her she was about to become a god and save the world. To this, she asked if this meant she'd end up normal, and he merely said, "Maybe."

She may or may not have gotten worse after that.

She's still as immature as she's always been, but with her oh-so-adored power on her side, her need for control and the unquenchable thirst for things going exactly how she planned them have, unfortunately, spiked. Although nowadays she's more maniacally happy and excited about everything than she is insatiably angry at anything that breathes, her mood is more than capable of making a turn for the worst, and she can have another outburst at the drop of a hat. And, given how she has more calamitous means to act out her tantrums, she's just a ticking time bomb at this point.

Her hatred for boredom has remained the same and so has her methods of relieving herself of it: by being an absolute chaotic piece of shit. She's an irritating bringer of pandemonium, finding glee in chaos, and if she can wriggle a bit of mayhem and panic into a situation, she will. Her ways of having fun can range from casual, mildly annoying pranks, insults, and barbs intended to piss someone off, to lethal, cold-blooded schemes that involve a lot of explosions and collapsing buildings and death, though the latter is typically reserved for those who make her beyond upset.

And what makes her "beyond upset," you ask?

Getting in her way.

Because, see, Sasha is extremely persistent. She always has been, though before she was usually just determined in base things, such as irritating the people around her, even those in insurmountable pain (being the absolute bitch with no empathy that she is), and jump-scaring them when she went from being nice to purely a degenerate, but now that she has a primary endgame and was, out of the billions of people on earth, chosen specifically by the gods to be their leader (it's a feat she never quite tires of showing off), she's all the more tenacious. When she sees an obstacle, she wants nothing more than to absolutely bludgeon it to mere particles for daring to exist in such a way that it slowed her down. And with how she generally hates, hates, hates not getting what she wants, and given what she wants now more than ever is to be the Ultimate God and have utmost power, she can absolutely lose her mind and act entirely irrationally when the time in which she can get her grimy fingers on her desires is extended by so much as 0.2 seconds. She's as relentless in finding a way to punish whatever or whoever made the mistake of pushing her back from her goals as she is in actually achieving said goals.

Perhaps this is the very reason why the gods chose her (if they truly did at all): her pertinacity, and the fact that her maelstrom of anarchy can have meaning.

Likes: Collecting spiders and putting them in her hair, raccoons, dogs, snakes, talking to KJ (the voice in her head), being in control, doing what she wants, and being powerful.
Dislikes: Her mother, her uncle, her father, KJ leaving from time to time, having no say in things, people getting in the way of her goals, being weak, cats, and not being herself.

Skills/Abilities:
• She's quite skilled with knives, for some reason.
• She's oddly masterful at dodging.
• She's exceptionally expert at pissing people off.
• She has an insane lung capacity from all the screaming she's done in her life.

Strengths:
+ Academic Genius || Sasha was always one to get high grades on her quizzes and tests (if she didn't immediately tear them apart upon receiving them). When she was nine and behaved enough to take an advanced placement test, she scored so high that she could have been thrown right into junior year of high school. ::
+ Manipulative || When she puts her mind to it, she can completely change her behavior and turn into an absolutely innocent little shit for the purpose of getting something done. She finds doing so irritating, however, and will only throw on the nice-as-hell mask when absolutely necessary. ::
+ Persistent || Sasha is the definition of motivated and determined. If she can set her mind to something, she's not going to stop until she gets it. ::
+ Goal-Driven || She hates it when things get in her way, and will stop at nothing to achieve her goals. ::

Weaknesses:
– Prone to Tantrums || Sasha is extremely prone to outbursts, especially when things don't go her way. ::
– Overly Controlling || She believes that, in order for her plans to go right, she needs to be beyond tyrannical. ::
– Mentally Unstable || Obvious. ::
– Immature || Obvious. ::
– Destructive || Not only is her Blessing purely lethal, but her personality is, too. ::
– Power-hungry || Likely out of feeling powerless with her life and the general way that she is, Sasha longs for utmost power, though she doesn't quite know what she'll do once she gets it. ::
– Lacks Common Sense || Sasha isn't very street-smart and practical aside from pretending to be good in exchange for food, clothes, and shelter. ::

Power/Blessing: Has Blessing (Chosen One)
Sasha has all the abilities of the Ultimate God inside her small little body, and, somehow, they don't immediately make her body explode, but she's unable to tap into her full potential aside from one aspect, which is the ability to destroy cells. She can only make things implode on themselves on the cellular level one cell at a time, though, and she isn't quite as accurate and often ends up destroying the wrong cells. But, as she grows stronger, she'll be able to do more with this ability (and do everything else the Ultimate God could do).
Pros:
+ A++++++ capability to commit violence.
+ Can do amazing crimes.
+ Murder.
+ Can clear a lot of obstacles, I guess.
+ She can cure cancer????
Cons:
- Requires a lot of focus.
- Requires even just a little bit of knowledge about just what she's destroying.
- Requires a shitton of effort.
- Mentally exhausting.
- Physically exhausting. If she manages to use it too much, she can lose consciousness for days at a time.
- Possibility of her dying if she taps into too much power; her body wouldn't be able to handle it.
- She needs a better body to be able to access all aspects of her Blessing.
- Thousands of dollars in damages.

Other: I'll add more later.

Waitlisted?: No.

===================================

Roleplay Examples:
[ x ]

— [ 1 ] —

┌───── .・゜-: ✧ :-⍋-: ✧ :-゜・. ─────┐

"Oh, darling, there are things out there that are far worse than a storm."

⚔︎ C A I N ‎ ‎ ‎E D E V A N E ⚔︎

[ spear / possessed; protector of prosperity ]

===========

Full Name: Cain-Adrien Edevane

Age: 28 [October 3rd, 1990]

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Species: (Average) Human

Occupation: Office Worker

Alignment: Lawful Good

— .・゜-: ✧ :-⍋-: ✧ :-゜・. —

Appearance:

Cain is a woman often considered to be beautiful. People would probably be right, in that regard — she stands at a taller-than-average 5’10” with a thin build, if a little too thin due to a steady diet of instant food from not being bothered to learn how to cook and living solely alone. Even with the slight emaciation, though, she still has a noticeable hourglass figure. Her hips are slightly wider than her chest, leading into thick thighs with the slightest bit of muscle to them. The muscle is more noticeable in her upper body, a bit of bulk tracing her arms as a result of her habitual going to the gym when frustrated and wanting to beat the shit out of something. Added to her relatively tall height, she can be damn scary when she wants to be.

Cain has a fairly pretty face, too, diamond-shaped with thin but strong arched eyebrows set over hooded eyelids. Her eyebags are admittedly deep, making her seem more in her mid to late thirties than her actual 28 — a fact that she seems more intent on milking for all the authority it gives her than hiding it. Her eyelashes are the same jet-black sort of color as her hair, straight and thick as it is. It’s cut just a bit past her shoulders, some of it falling in a thick, messy curtain over her face, just short enough there that it doesn’t obstruct her vision. The short-cut bangs give a clear view of sharp, almost judgmental gray eyes, the piercing aspect of them making her seem she's trying to bore a hole of guilt for nothing into whoever she looks at.

So she doesn't stare directly at people much.

Her apparel adds to her professional look, her favorite thing to wear being clean, white button-ups, slacks and belts. On occasion, she'll add a waistcoat and tie to the mix; if she's feeling real fancy and like intimidating the shit out of people around her, she'll add a suit jacket, a gold chain hanging from her belt and some jewelry around her neck and wrists.

That, of course, is when she goes outside. Inside, she'll typically just go for a tank-top and some baggy pants -- the tanktops are nice and comfortable and show off her arms, and the combination make her look like she's older than she is, which she enjoys immensely. Why she enjoys this, no one knows.

Personality:

Cain is a surprisingly average person, in most regards. She typically keeps to herself, interacting with others with the default amount of politeness and otherwise minding her own business. Not necessarily introverted and certainly not extroverted, either — she can hold a conversation if someone were to keep one with her, she’ll try her best to entertain any kids in her presence (though there’s no guarantee it’ll work out, since she tends to be a little bit stunted with kids), she’ll start chats and talk about her life at family gatherings or work parties and she’ll take over other people’s shifts in a heartbeat. She's not overly sweet, but she is fairly kind and helpful and always at least keeps enough politeness to be professional.

Beyond her basic disposition, Cain is usually considered to be a fairly dependable presence. She tries her best to keep order, both plan-wise and in life (though her plans can sometimes be pretty disorganized, but that's besides the point), and she has a fair bit of patience in trying to guide people into seeing why they're wrong (in her eyes, at least) and bringing them in the right direction. Her nature in this regard often has people lay the burden of keeping things in check to her. She always does. People who talk to her frequently quickly learn that she’s one to hold to her word unless she is literally physically incapable, and just as likely to hold others to their own. She’s rather sharp, in that regard — basically a playback record for people’s promises, at some point. It’s not that she’d never lie, or never let anyone else lie, but by God, is she intense about promises. At first, this seems to be one of her only quirks to a generally unremarkable personality -- she's simply an average person who minds their own business so long as others mind theirs with a tactful, polite disposition and a strong sense of morality.

… a really, really strong sense of morality.

It’s when her sense of justice starts to get questioned or set off that her personality really starts to shine. She’s very much an activist, always being one to step up and speak her mind when she sees something wrong. She wants to see fairness, people held accountable for their actions, and she plays as active of a part as she can in getting to this end out of a lack of trust for authority — there’s a point at which she seems to almost have a hero complex, with how often she takes the active role in a bad situation. And to some extent, that observation is probably correct. To her, speaking up and doing something overrides anything else — any time she thinks there’s something she can do, she will. She’s lost a few meals from losing it at the management, quitting on the spot and neglecting to have a backup job in place.

When met with a situation where she cannot do anything about what is happening or the situation minor enough that she doesn't have to do anything big, she gets petty. Incredibly petty. She's usually pretty damn patient when it comes to chaos, able to hold her tact long enough to try to bring order to the situation, but if the cause has a history of bitchiness -- or, really, if she just doesn't like the person -- then she'll get straight up spiteful. Her passive aggressiveness shoots up by a hundred, though when she's really pissed off or things are just too stupid for her to bear, she'll just settle for staring the person down, though on occasion, if she's feeling violent, she'll step on the person's foot or crush their hand until they stop.

Yeah. She gets violent, sometimes. It's best to just leave her alone when she's mad.

While she’s attempted to manage her anger a little bit in order to keep from these sorts of situations, she can still be incredibly impulsive when it comes to her own sense of justice. Of course, she’s yet to murder anyone over it, though there is a large chance that she would in a lawless world. Her sense of justice is very much one of a vigilante — an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and whatnot. Her morality goes a bit... off, from the norm, there, for her spite towards the world is unimaginably intense. She cares so, so much, and it causes her to hate deeply -- high on persecution and low on forgiveness, ready to destroy anything that does wrong for the sake of making what she thinks is a better future for the people and creatures she adores so much. Ready to destroy herself for it, even. She has endless spite for the things she finds to ruin life, and the spite burns her out from the inside.

Sometimes, it's unclear if she loves life or hates it.

Likes:

+ When people are fucking normal. +

+ A nice, plain, bitter cup of black coffee. +

+ Being outside during sunset. It just has a nice feel to it. +

+ Being awake late at night. +

+ Gifts. Can't help it, it's just nice to get shit for free ~ +

+ Getting shit that's on sale. Useful shit, like food or a vaccuum. It's a great feeling. +

+ Getting a thank you every once in a while, you assholes. +

Dislikes:

- Chaos. -

- When people are assholes for no reason. By god, please just be normal. -

- Overly sweet things. Makes her feel like she's going to vibrate out of her skin, plus it's just unpleasant going down. -

- Unfairness. -

- When people die unfairly. It's the most injust possible thing to be cut off when you could've done so much, could've lived so long, could've loved so hard and been loved in turn. It makes her see red. -

- Large crowds. She isn't opposed to people, but by god does she hate being shoved around and having to shove people while saying "excuse me" and "pardon" and "sorry" until her throat goes hoarse. Hell is a large crowd. +

— .・゜-: ✧ :-⍋-: ✧ :-゜・. —

Skills/Abilities:

+ Cain has quite a lot of arm strength, mainly focusing on that with her workouts, so she can lift and swing heavy things and throws a damn good punch. Agility is less remarkable, considering she's already starting to have aches, but she has a fair bit of stamina and can run for longer times than most. +

+ Cain's good at coming up with plans, as it's the work she's assigned most often for her job (at least in the past, when she was actually able to have one because she could go outside). She's pretty damn dependable in that department, though her charts suck ass. +

+ Cain's patient when it comes to guiding people onto what she believes to be the "right path", trying her best to tame chaotic personalities and keep people out of trouble. When in charge of mischievous people, she has a habit of apologizing profusely on their regard and saying they didn't actually mean it. They usually did. +

Strengths:

+ Orderly :: Cain has quite a bit of practice with planning and tries her damndest to keep the people around her out of trouble. Now, physical organization is another story (she'll be damned if anyone can actually read what she puts down) but what she thinks of is perfectly fine. ::

+ Physical Strength :: She has a mean right hook. ::

+ Dependable :: Cain always keeps her word without fail, not to mention how persistent she is when it comes to her goals and wishes. She'll also just... usually do things when people ask them of her, which is nice. ::

Weaknesses:

- Pretentious :: Her insisted keeping of order and morality often makes her come off as overbearing and holier-than-thou. This is very much correct. -

- Pissy :: She can get incredibly angry and spiteful rather easily, which can often blind her judgment and make her do things she ordinarily wouldn't. -

- Vigilante :: Cain will do anything in order to keep her idea of justice. An-y-thing. It's incredibly concerning and oftentimes scary. -

Blessing: N/A

— .・゜-: ✧ :-⍋-: ✧ :-゜・. —

Other: "We have food at home" energy.

Waitlisted?: No.

└─────.・゜-: ✧ :-⍋-: ✧ :-゜・. ─────┘

— [ 2 ] —

┌───── ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ ─────┐

"Kahahah, maybe you should've been more afraid of ME than hell!"

⛧ K A G E ‎ ‎ ‎E R E M B O U R ⛧

[ shadow; boy who rides shadows ]

===========

Full Name: Yami "Kage" Erembour

Age: 16 [January 9th, 2003]

Gender: Male

Orientation: God, who fucking knows?

Species: (Blessed) Human

Occupation: Highschool Delinquent

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

— ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ —

Appearance:

Kage could best be described in appearance as jarring. Looking at him, you just don’t know what the fuck to take in first — maybe the fact that he looks incredibly unhealthy, what with the deathly pale skin almost resembling a sickly Victorian orphan in complexion. The paleness of his skin is only accentuated by onyx-colored hair, so dark it reflects back blue in direct light, the midnight color sweeping messily against pale cheeks; the color is matched by his eyes, a midnight black that twinkle in a star-like light with sheer, shit-eating amusement when he’s making his taunts. The contrast makes any color on his person immediately jump out, which makes his outfit so much fucking worse.

Kage typically wears a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, just a size too big because he couldn’t find one smaller and hey, doesn’t the way this one hang down from him look kind of cool? And sure, it might if the vibrant colors weren’t so goddamn abhorrent to look at. But no, he doesn’t acknowledge this, or maybe he does it on purpose — either way, the shirt winds up bringing attention to Kage’s skinniness. He isn’t unnaturally skinny, unlike the nature of his complexion; it’s more like the average teenage lankiness, one that he does not seem to have grown out of. Maybe he will one day (though unlikely), but the shirt really only serves to make it worse.

His grin works to highlight another strange aspect, which is his teeth; his canines are a bit longer and sharper and average, which he adores. He’ll often pick at his teeth just to bring extra attention to them, which really only works to showcase the bandages he’s wrapped around his hands. The gauze goes around the whole of both of his hands from a bit below his wrist to his fingertips, letting only the very tips show (highlighting nails that are just a little bit too long — cut your fucking nails, dude), not that the bandages are all that visible because he’s so fucking pale it might as well not be there.

Surprisingly, the parts of his appearance that make up the most of him are the last thing you’d notice. Like, for one, he stands at a decent 5’8”, his body type is mostly lanky with his shoulders being a little broader, giving him a very thin inverted triangle shape, he has almond-shaped eyes with slight eyebags under them that make him look emo as hell because the contrast is still high (he loves that, too) — he’s generally a pretty average looking guy, which is probably why he exaggerates his stand-out traits so much. And by god, does he stand out.

By the way, he wears sunglasses. Indoors. He’s the worst.

Personality: See above.

There’s a permanent smug aura radiating off of Kage, added to by his innate urge to show off as much as possible — dressing to attract as much attention as possible, doing whatever he thinks is cool, showing off the aspects he deems to be his best every moment he can. There’s a level of carelessness to every action he takes, only doing what he wants to when he wants to and not considering the consequences — and that is the case to an extent, though he does take some care. He knows when he’s outmatched, when to settle down and shut up for his own sake, and he’ll settle into a more respectful demeanor in that sort of situation.

But the rest of the time when he knows he’s out of the reach of trouble, he is absolutely a little shit.

Kage is a sewer of chaos. He enjoys taunting people, riling people up, egging on mischief, generally being rowdy as all shit — and when he’s rowdy, boy he is rowdy. He does as much as possible to fuck shit up just in order to see people get mad about it — probably one of the situations where he’s at his most energetic, which is lovely for him and unfortunate for everyone else.

He isn’t much of a leader type, far more intent on doing his own thing. It’s not necessarily that he dislikes authority — it’s more than likely that they dislike him, considering his tendency for either beginning or going out of his way to amplify chaos, but if they leave him be, then he leaves them be (unless it’s to make fun of them, but his taunting never necessitates hard feelings on his part). Being a follower is more convenient to him, anyway — thinking is a boring endeavor — so long as he agrees with what he’s told to do. If he finds them to be below him (or even simply doesn’t feel like it), well. Fuck the rest of you, I guess.

It’s an attitude he takes on often. He does things regardless of other people’s wellbeing, sometimes in sacrifice of it — on occasion, it’s even his failure to do things that sacrifices others’ well-being. Kage doesn’t particularly have any sort of grasp on morality, only considering how it reflects on the person’s reputation in his eyes — he’ll see anyone do anything and his only commentary would be whether he thought that was cool of them to do or not. He doesn’t care if it puts people in harm’s way, doesn’t care if people die, doesn’t even care if people are saved. If someone openly threatens another person in front of them, he likely won’t tell anyone about it because he considers it to be none of his business, but if they say it in a way he thinks is lame, he’ll scoff at them and turn his head. He’s more than willing to do fucked up shit, himself, if it gets him what he wants — he makes this incredibly clear, often offering violence as a solution to simple situations, and it just as often earns him the title of psychopath by te people around him. They may be right.

Another matter in which he thinks “fuck the rest of you” is competition. Yes, Kage is incredibly competitive — if he sees a chance to try to win at something, he will take it. He is very much prone to cheating and lying in order to win at something, though one of his more surprising traits in this manner is that he both welcomes others to do the same and is a gracious loser. If someone can brute force their way into a win or outsmart him or catch him in his lie, he’s nothing but impressed — no matter who it is that wins, it’s simply proof of how good that person is at things, never that whoever loses is necessarily worse. He always fails to consider that part.

Still, he’ll always try his damndest to be the best at things, and when he succeeds, he shows off like hell.

His want to be great and show it off probably adds to his aversion to weakness. He doesn’t adamantly deny it, but he goes out of his way to make sure he’s never in a situation where it can be seen — probably a big reason why he does absolutely jack shit in his school life: because he is so, so incredibly bad at academics. He’s basically the opposite of book smart. Street smart, incredibly so — he’s not naive, being able to get out of a bad situation for himself with relative ease with the help of a bit of that characteristic lying, manipulation, stealing or straight-up violence, plus a bit of skill in the escape artist area, but he refuses to be in the same room as an algebra equation. He is an idiot when it comes to academics.

Or maybe he’s just an idiot all the time. Sure seems like it, at least.

Likes:

+ Incredibly sweet things. Like, think so much sugar your teeth start to disintegrate on impact, and you’ve got the amount of shit he puts in his average Starbucks order. +

+ Punk-rock music. +

+ Looking like a peacock. +

+ People who are willing to be a partner in crime to his shit. Do that, and you’ll be his friend forever. +

+ People who start shit themselves. Do that and he’ll also be your friend forever. +

+ My Chemical Romance. It shutting down was a crime, I tell you! +

+ Most first person shooter games. Big fan of Valorant and Doom, in particular. +

+ Yeah. He’s a bit of an edgelord. +

Dislikes:

- People questioning his way of life. Yeah, be a wet blanket, why dontcha? Fucking loser. -

- Warm water. Feels gross going down. -

- Bitter shit. Why in god’s name would you ever eat that on purpose? -

- Sunny weather. He gets sunburned really easily, so it’s inconvenient at best. Plus, it’s kind of cool feeling like a vampire because of this dislike, so he hates it even more. -

- Doing lame shit. -

— ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ —

Skills/Abilities:

+ He knows how to handle a gun.

… It’s probably best if you don’t question it too much. +

+ He has a photographic memory, and a great one at that; makes him real good with directions and faces. +

+ He can learn most physical skills quickly and adapts to new situations equally fast. +

Strengths:

+ Self-Sufficient :: For a 16-year-old, Kage is pretty damn good at taking care of himself and dealing with all his problems alone, even if the manner he does so is… questionable. The skill is yet another mildly concerning thing about a very generally mildly concerning person.

+ Street Smart :: Being used to some form of trouble in his life, he is incredibly skilled at getting out of it. Most of his plans, while made up on-the-spot and incredibly impulsive, work to get him out of any danger or general consequences he doesn’t feel like facing at the moment. +

+ Forgiving :: Kage doesn’t hold a grudge and doesn’t care much about a person’s past or crimes against himself or other people. In that sense, he’s probably one of the most forgiving people you’ll ever meet. +

Weaknesses:

- Psychopath :: Kage has little concern for other people save for when they help him in his endeavors or are doing something he likes. It’s… concerning, to say the least. -

- Idiot :: Kage knows absolutely nothing about academics and is an incredibly slow learner with concepts. It takes a very, very patient person to teach him, and an even more patient person to get him to try at all and demonstrate what little he knows in the first place. -

- Burn Damage :: He has severe burn wounds spanning a majority of the front of his hands all the way down to his wrists. While he was fortunate enough to be able to afford immediate surgery even with the pandemic, the damage done to his nerves by the third-degree burns was severe and the skin grafts are still healing, and as such, he’s lost all feeling in the area. His hands are still usable, but his fine motor skills are absolutely ruined (i.e. he cannot write) and his grip is incredibly weak. While he’ll eventually regain feeling, his doctor said it’s unlikely his motor abilities will ever fully recover. -

Blessing: He can summon incredibly hot flames from his hands, floating about two centimeters above his palm on creation (or able to be summoned in the form of sparks if he so chooses). The flames burn around ~3000 degrees fahrenheit, hot enough to appear almost violet.

Pros: What can I say? Fire’s hot as shit. Could kill someone very, very easily.

Cons: He is very much affected by his own fire, able to be burned by it as easily as anyone else — as such, as soon as he summons the fire, he has to get rid of it as quickly as possible— it usually takes a second for jt to actually start burning him, but if he’s even a few seconds too slow, he’ll wind up with first degree burns from the proximity. If he panics too much and tosses it in the wrong direction, it will go wild, as he holds no control over the flames save the ability to actually summon them. It’s generally incredibly dangerous and should only be utilized in necessary situations. Kage, of course, uses it anyway.

— ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ —

Other: God, finally finished them both.

Waitlisted?: Yes.

Introduced: Whenever the group manages to buy an HQ.

└───── ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ ─────┘

RP Examples:

[ x ]

>:D Sneak attack- (me? Stalking? No, I was... casually waiting) Here's (mostly, she needs fixing) Sasta! And Sebastaen, too, but he's for later~

⌈ S á s t a ⌋
"I'll do whatever the hell I want to, thanks."

Full Name: Sásta Cailín ó'Cuinn
[ "Happy" and "Girl" in Gaelic Irish ]
Nickname: Sass, Quinn
Age: Twenty-two [ September 22, 1996 ]
Gender: Female
Orientation: Wouldn't you like to know?

Occupation: Former Bartender she may have gotten fired
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Species: Human. Oh-so-blessed human.

- ⬺ ☸ ⤕ -

Appearance:

Sásta is striking, for who she happens to be. She has a lithe, catlike frame, standing around 5'9" with sturdy but thin muscles. Despite her ability to hold a job and feed herself well, she has anything but a paunch- rather, her ribcage can be easily seen through her pale skin. She attributes it to her quick metabolism, and her twitchy movements and fast reactions match with that description. No matter what, she has a hard time keeping still- instead of standing, she paces, or instead of sitting, her feet will constantly be tapping, arms reaching out for anything available to sense.

Her face is round, diamond-shaped, and often holds a look of a peculiar... curiosity. Behind her vibrant yet weary jade eyes is a constant sense of wonder, one visible only in the rarest of times, but always present. Typically, her long eyelashes mask this expression, betraying only a resounding darkness. With moderate, dark eyelashes and brown eyebrows, she has surprising mastery over the quizzical expressions of her face, able to portray many emotions others would find foreign. Long, burgundy hair seems to always flow around her visage, framing it well, not quite straight- and yet, not quite curled, as if her hair was shaped by the tumultuous waves of the ocean.

She knows her appearance has a tendency to seduce those that walk into her bar, especially once they've had a few things to drink, though she doesn't mind the attention. There have never really been times when she's given in, but many men under the inflence have fallen for her- rose lips, a pale face that hardly blushes, and those green eyes you could probably get lost in, if you tried to.

She looks people in the eyes a lot, so she can tell whether or not they really like her. It's a gaze of unrest, of unwillingness, if only someone would look right back.

Sásta doesn't typically enjoy the look of a professional, or an athlete, instead going for casual clothes- anywhere from flannels, to t-shirts, to sneakers and jeans. You couldn't catch her wearing a dress even if you wanted to, though occasionally... you just might. Not that she'd enjoy it.

Personality:

Sásta didn't get to be called "Sass" for nothing. She has a very intriguing personality- even though she's a bartender, and many don't get to know her, those that do tend to leave her company in a state of bewilderement. She enjoys the company of others, especially her regulars- it's easy for her to strike up a conversation with anyone, and for anyone to start one with her. Being easygoing comes naturally to her, but take a warning- you look at her the wrong way, insult her closest friends- you'd better be ready to take the wrath of Sásta ó'Cuinn.

Before you truly get to know her, she'll talk an incredible amount of sarcasm when she can. Though, even after, this doesn't change much- Sásta likes making jokes, so long as someone's around to enjoy them. The only thing that changes, once you get to know this peculiar Irishwoman, is that she becomes more thoughtful, considering things with actual reason rather than simply sass. And yet she has a sharp mind and a sharper tongue, relaying her responses with both truth and wit.

She is true to her friends, and would treat them all as a band of brothers would be treated- yes, strictly brothers. She hates the bonds of women as there seems to be consistent asking and betrayal without knowledge, whereas with men, you know how they feel. They stick together. There is no way she would lie about this- how she feels, what she thinks, who she admires. The thing is... Sásta is very private, and only shares her thoughts with people she's known for years, even if that's only a customer.

Though, of course, everyone's tongue loosens once they've had a little to drink.

But just because she's quite the thinker... don't assume she won't use her strength, because whenever she can, she's got a knife to protect her, a watchful eye on the things around her. Looking for a fight? Hey, she'd start one just for the fun of it.

...When Sásta is by herself, she has a deep, unending loneliness. She'll talk to her cat, or her fridge, or anything that couldn't talk back, just so she could feel as though she was with people again. She may try to keep herself busy, but at the end of the day, she's restless, getting little to no sleep on account of all she can feel. Everything someone tells her about figuring out one's life without others- it's impossible, for this strong, fragile person. She can't cry, and she can't sleep, so she just stares, wondering at nothing at all.

Perhaps, were she to have someone to quell her paralyzing fear of loneliness, her time alone would be different.

- ⬺ ☸ ⤕ -

Likes:

Bartending, of course. It lets her meet new people.

Fire has always been a fascination of hers, despite how many times she's had burn scars from touching one. In another life she might've been a pyro-

Looking evil while stroking a cat. If we're being honest, it's why she has a cat- a fluffy white tabby named Jericho.

Being careless, of course. She lets anything slide, and she's willing to let anything do so. She may not be a liar, but she won't force anyone to follow some rules she hated anyways.

Dislikes:

Snooty. Stuck-up people aren't her thing, and there's no way she'll ever like them. Or rather, rich people in general. Sásta has contempt for those who live better lives.

Insects are really not her thing, you know? All insects. She's a city girl. Chicago, or somethin'.

Skills/Abilities:

Sásta's got a steel stomach- both literally and figuratively. She's taken a lot of bar bets, won and lost a lot of bar fights, and she can handle anything as far as the average Irish drunk would go. Not really a normal skill, but pretty useful, and interesting too.

She knows how to get people out of sticky situations. Whether that's through physical fighting or sneaking a way out, her quick thinking can get herself and others out of tough places. She might not be so good at figuring out a whole scheme, but she's quick on her feet.

Strengths:

Quick thinking- Sásta can react to situations more quickly than almost anyone she knows can, used to bars after midnight that are... less than docile. You chuck a plate at her, the wall's the one going to get hurt.

Reflexes- Sometimes, even being a quick thinker, it doesn't necessarily mean you have the reflexes to match. With her, that's not the case. Her mind and motor skills work at the same level, giving her fast thoughts and even faster movements.

Experience- Despite being considered a "youngster" in any cranky old man's eyes, she has the experiences of an old sage. If experience was her teacher, than she'd be a wise woman at twenty. Ha.

Weaknesses:

Brutish- Sásta is, well... aggressive. And destructive. Most of the time, on purpose and just for kicks, but when she destroys things on accident, she'll probably just go "huh. Look at that." and nothing else- unless you're relatively close with her, then she'd likely replace it. But she'll fight with you if you ask, and sometimes even if you don't.

Kindness- Being someone who doesn't lie, she is also very blunt, telling the truth whether you like it or not, often in an exasperated tone. That is, when she resorts to flat-out bluntness. Most of the time it's simply sarcasm, but if someone gets frustrated, she'll speak her mind.

Leadership- If you have a group, and you have people who lead that group, good luck getting Sásta to do what they say. She doesn't follow authority outside her workplace, not one bit- people don't follow her, so why follow them?

- ⬺ ☸ ⤕ -

Power:
Blessing
Well- she, eh, can explode. Sort of. Were she to be able to use her power, it would involve self-combustion that doesn't kill her. She would probably set her finger on fire just to prove it to people. Of course, she always ends up smoking, though.

Curse
It is painful. Extremely. Now, Sásta has learned quite well how to deal with pain, but this reactive ability has the capability to blow at least one full layer of skin clean off. It won't kill, of course, but causes the feeling of severe burns without the actual physical effect.

Relationships:

None yet. No connections, nothing to hold her down.

Role:

Let's be honest, she's the head bonker- though if you really want, she can be something weird like "giver of drinks" that somehow always happens to have a beverage on hand xD

Other:

She's half sad, half crazy. Actually- she's definitely more crazy than sad. Her brief mood dips just do not happen as long as someone's around. Or talking to her. Or both.

Waitlisted?: Well, her name is practically Sasha's. And she'd probably have been serving drinks in the café they were all at anyways- so, likely, no. But that's not up to me, and I don't really care which one's in at the beginning-

- ⬺ ☸ ⤕ -

⌈ S e b a s t a e n ⌋
"You think I wanted this job, kid?"

Full Name: Sebastaen Black
Nickname: Bass
Age: Thirty-one [ January 15, 1988 ]
Gender: Male
Orientation: It's very likely he'd be pan.

Occupation: Unemployed
Alignment: Chaotic... probably Neutral. Again.
Species: Human. Nothin' special.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一

Appearance:

Well...

He's a stunner. Not in the way that you think, of course- if we're being completely honest, Bass looks like a criminal that wound up as a bouncer at a nightclub. Six foot four, arms like steel bars. If he was bald, he'd probably look just like The Rock. He's even got the statue-esque bronze color that makes him look like some sort of a god. Of course, he isn't. He wasn't given some strange power, but he's got a gun, and he acts just as he would as if he could make rifles shoot blocks of exploding ice or something. He's got a careless swagger; he's tall and he knows it, and people don't mess with him.

He's been in the news more times than he can count, often as "the man in the background smoking a cigarette." With his soulless black eyes, he calmly watches any situation, face always staying the same- expressionless. No matter who dies, who kills some bear in the woods, or who thinks they want to see him murdered for his psychopathic tendencies, he'll just stand there, hands in his pockets and cigarette in his mouth, and wait. Of course, he can look angry, too. With thick black eyebrows and a thin mouth that can easily scowl, you'll know when he doesn't enjoy your company.

For many people, he's not a guy you'd want to run into anytime, let alone in a dark alley.

He doesn't necessarily look the part for his career, but with a white lab coat and black trenchcoat he consistently wears over his clothes ("to hide the rifle", he says), he can obviously be mistaken for someone who's proud of their job. Needless to say, he is not. If anyone asks him if he likes his occupation, he'll swear like a sailor with that expressionless face, all the while gesturing with his hands to further what he says.

If you ever happen to get close enough to tell what he looks like aside from the bouncer from hell, you'd know that he's got a roman nose and chiseled, square jaw, with slicked back greaser's hair and stubble that decorates the bottom half of his face. It's a type of face that takes a certain type of person to fall for, though not necessarily because he's ugly- he just never smiles, or if he does, it's a smirk at something he said. He doesn't try to make anyone like his company- he acts and looks like he just exists to annoy people who'd probably hate him anyways, and you can tell- it gives him a twisted joy when he knows someone hates him back.

Oh, but you're curious about his clothes? It's very simple, really. Beneath the many layers of coats that he somehow doesn't get hot under is a single black cotton t-shirt. When outside the office (all the time, obviously), he'll wear muted green cargo pants with black army boots, matching the rest of his unusual clothing choices. And what outfit wouldn't be complete with a necklace? Rather than dog tags, as his military appearance might suggest, he just... wears a bullet. As in, took one he didn't fire, emptied it, and strung it around his neck. Yep.

Personality:

Sebastaen hates his job. Like, really hates it.

That makes up the majority of his personality: pure, uncensored, hate. Granted, he does know how to keep it quietly concealed- he won't rush into fits of rage at the moment something goes wrong- but he is spiteful of his family for making him go down the opposite path of what he really wanted to be. If given the choice, though, he'd stay as he is, seeing it as too late to find a different path, especially given the extensive years of classes he had to take. That doesn't mean he hasn't practiced his... other career, of course.

And boy, does he get judged.

How did a cop at heart become nothing more than a doctor? It's a story he's well-acquainted with, of course, but he sees little reason to tell others- after all, why would they want to know? He doesn't give a shit what others think of his lifestyle, and honestly, would much rather just sit and talk about guns, or look like a murderer, or probably just wear some cool sunglasses and act like he doesn't know of this "Doctor Black." That man is focused, precise, and very likely to become threatened by his father if he so happens to purposefully fail at his career. And when he fails on purpose, his father knows. But of course, there are times he'd never know about...

The other man, the not-so-doctor, is willing to listen to the musings of another, adding a cynical, skeptic, and often necessary, note to thoughts and plans. When it comes to something big, Bass is smart enough to know plans are important, but when it's him doing something that won't change a whole lifetime, his impulses take over, and he runs on any whim that crosses his mind. He's a good liar, and if anyone asks him what he's doing, will tell a lie draped in a sarcastic answer, but otherwise, will tell the truth when he sees fit, as long as he feels it's needed.

He can take charge if someone needs him to, relaying commands in a way that an officer might, but he knows how to lead others. Not that he particularly enjoys bossing around a bunch of reckless teenagers who'd much rather chat than listen, but he'll do it if he has to. If someone orders him around... well. He'll get what they ask done, just in his own way, like a kid who's told to get a card for someone and they make one instead. Really, he's not too great if you're some sort of controlling maniac. Bass does what he wants, when he wants to, and mostly, that's watching people from the side while having a cigarette.

Go ahead and try to control him, though.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一

Likes:

Smoking. Does he care that it'll probably cause his death? Absolutely not.

Really, the man knows everything about guns. Ask Bass about any, and he'll automatically be able to tell you what it is, as long as you tell him enough about it.

For some reason, he enjoys watching people die. Not the quick car crash or the French guillotine, no- just watching as someone silently closes their eyes, not knowing when they'll wake, or even if they will again. It wouldn't matter if it was his brother or someone he didn't know, he'd just watch them, peaceful in their final rest. This peculiar thing, oddly enough, gives him a sense of calm.

Dislikes:

Why, his family, of course. Any chance they get, they threaten him, disliking the only family member who doesn't prosper in the medical business. It wouldn't mean so much to him, except for the fact that they have never made empty threats.

Anyone who's just annoying. He doesn't need to be pestered, so leave him alone or get ready to be socked in the gut.

Have I mentioned his job? Yeah. He really hates his job. Despises it, in fact. So much so, that he's probably let his hand slip a couple of times, but that's strictly off the record. Surgeons have to be perfect, you know. If you ask him to do his job, he will say no. Unless, you know, it'll destroy the world if he doesn't. He'll probably just give directions and stay on the side.

Skills/Abilities:

You think he'd be so obsessed with cops and robbers that he wouldn't teach himself how to use the guns he knows so much about? If you do, well... go to the shooting range, sometime. When he was a kid, he could shoot the wings off a fly with a BB gun, and that record still holds.

He's not particularly quick, but Bass has the strength of a bull. Try to get around his iron grip, he'll only maintain his hold tighter. Meaning: don't be on his bad side. Just... don't. He hates everyone, but you'll know if he really hates you.

Strengths:

Bass won't ever agree with anyone who tells him, but he's actually good at his career. His memory is surprisingly sturdy when it comes to remembering things in a crisis, and if it's life or death for someone he doesn't hate, he'll very likely be able to help.

He's got somewhat of a silver tongue- he can get himself out of a quick fix, if he needs to. The man's not much of a charmer, but he can make it seem as if he'll satisfy the expectations of someone with just a few simple words.

Well, street smarts. He knows how to handle himself when it comes to being out in places that are less than comfortable, or how to keep thieves and gangs away from him. It's fairly easy, if you know Bass.

Weaknesses:

You know what? The son of a gun is pretty territorial. That means, if he actually manages to get along with someone, they'd better be ready to have a six-foot man as their advocate. It doesn't do much for him, though, as anyone who's trying to get to him can just skip fighting the psychopath for someone else.

He pretty much acts as if everyone around him automatically knows something about anything he knows about. He knows everything about three things: guns, fixing people, and cars. Obviously, not popular knowledge. If they know nothing, it's not like he's good at explaining how to use a gun, or how to save a life, or why cars are so much different as a manual. These things he just knows.

There's a good reason he should have never been a doctor. Some people would deem him "heartless", others just "psycho", but when it comes to lives, he'll just stare someone down and laugh. He doesn't really care about someone's sadness, he'll just laugh at the fact that they are sad.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一

Power:

None.

Relationships:

Well, none that he enjoys.

His father, Declan, part of the working middle class, who insisted he be in the field of fixing people.

His uncle, Jett, who seems to despise the very existence of his brother's first son.

His older sister, Amanna, who thinks he's absolutely psychotic and needs to be put in an asylum.

And his younger brother, Peter, who acts as if he knows better than absolutely anyone he talks to- siblings, living parent, or friends. It's rather annoying, as far as he's concerned.

Role:

Psycho Doctor! >:D

Other:

Bass and Sass, I love it xD Someone tell Sass to go get Bass at some point. It'd definitely cause some laughs. A l s o - this guy is gonna give me an excuse to curse, because I can't literally anywhere else (life included)-

Waitlisted?: Doesn't matter! He can be, if you want him to be. The group could meet up with him once someone sets themselves on fire or something. He does have some weird instincts.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一

RP Example:

It's my newest, and at the very end of the page-
[ Click ]

@Ebanon

Bass is accepted as the On-Sight Medic and Sass is accepted as the One Bitch No One Can Figure Out :) No waitlisting needed for either of them!

^{(sasha's sheet is getting too long, oops—)}

— 2 —

(wip still)

S A G E
[ wise and healthy ]
(so exhaustion™ that he wouldn't even dodge Truck-kun)

“ Coffee is far foxier than even the most enthralling face in the world, wouldn't you say? ”

Full Name: Sage
Nickname: Sage
Alias: Sage
Gender: Male(?)
Orientation: Eh.
Species: Human(???)
Age: Looks 23, is physically 20, mentally Extremely Old.
Occupation: Financial Manager(?)
Alignment: Chaotic... Something

Appearance:
Sage looks overtly, unmistakably average. Painfully average, even. Those who know him often complain about it, referring to him as some sort of "ghost" with how he can disappear so easily into crowds, becoming nigh impossible to find; he almost looks like every other man, blending in so easily he might as well be nonexistent. He stands at only five-foot-seven, the average height in all the world, his body perfectly proportional. Everything about his facial features is entirely common: his face is shaped like an oval; his eyebrows neither thick nor thin; his nose of the fleshy, ever-so-slightly upturned shape; his lips halfway to full, halfway to thin, a mix of heart-shaped and wide, cupid's bow only just defined; cheekbones somewhere between low and high; jawline nowhere near sharp, but not soft whatsoever either; and his chin tapering off to a well-rounded, diamond-esque edge. Even his hair is average enough: a common black color, neither straight nor wavy, not coarse or thin, ending right above his ears and falling over his eyebrows in messy chops. The only parts of his face that aren't unfathomably ordinary are... his eyes.

His eyes are beyond beautiful.

They're shaped like round almonds, eyelashes long and curled, perfectly accentuating the green of irises. The rings curled around the black pupils are a brilliant lime, dusted with hues of chartreuse, emerald, and mint, streaked with the shade of moss, tints of shamrock and olive spiraling outward in the shapes of clouds, seaweed, seafoam, and pistachio tones filling what remains, all pigments coalescing to a single color: sage. An effulgent, mystifying, innately bewitching sage. Perhaps it is where his name comes from.

His eyes only get all the more beguiling under the lens of a camera. In nearly all photos taken of him (not many, as the man is often said to be "camera shy"), his pupils are shining a blazing gold, as if cloaked in tapetum lucidum. Sage is forever cursed with a red-eye effect, sometimes even his whole eyes aglow in every unnecessary attempt to immortalize his face. The aureate gleam completes a summary of his eyes: they are the very definition of komorebi—the sun filtering through the canopy of a vast forest.

But there's another part of him that is distinctly unordinary: the bandage on his left cheek. Well, more so a rolled-up wad of gauze kept in place with two, thin strips of medical tape, but a bandage nonetheless. It's a small thing, located under his cheekbone and extending down to just above his jaw, and he's never seen without it. It is there when he wakes up, when he goes to work, when he goes on casual outings, when he lurks about in a cafe for hours on end, when he's at home, when he goes to bed... Some have said that he wears it to the shower, and they may just be correct. Others have said that he has never changed it once in his life, and... they're wrong because Sage does replace it, oftentimes even thrice a day; he isn't one for being unhygienic. Regardless, the bandage often comes up in conversations between his coworkers; Sage has overheard them debating what exactly is under that gauze, discussing if it's hiding some unhealing wound, if he merely lets it continue to exist because it's giving him attention, if it's for some unusual aesthetic purpose, or if it's keeping a hideous scar far from sight.

The latter couldn't be any more wrong. There's no scar under the bandage. There are no scars on his face at all.

All his scars are elsewhere.

In fact, his entire body from his shoulders down is littered with them.

Gashes and puncture wounds, clean lines and jagged crisscrossings, puckered and rough and smooth and flat—his body is a temple that was dismantled and wrecked with dynamite. Sage has it all: the greetings of blades, bullets' farewells, the remnants of shrapnel. They mar his arms, his chest, torso, waist, his legs, and even his feet. But their existence is known to no one except himself. No, with his seven hundred layers of clothes and the generic look of him, it'd be impossible to think that he could have had so many wounds. One can suspect that the reason he wears so much in the first place, going so far as to don coats even in the middle of summer, is because he's doing everything in his power to hide the marks of bloody battles.

He isn't, actually. He's just cold all the time.

All. The. Time.

Sometimes, because he doesn't like attention, he'll force himself to wear only a shirt on hot days, doing his best to ignore his chattering teeth. But, since he doesn't quite like suffering for the purpose of pleasing others, most of the time, he'll wear his usual attire. He typically dons a long-sleeved, baggy pecan brown shirt atop (and perfectly concealing) two thick, fleeced thermal layers, and a dark green (and always unzipped) heavy parka with faux tortilla brown fur lining the hood. The parka can almost be astronomically heavy since it contains a whole shitton of stuff in its gazillion sewed-in inside pockets. If he decides to wear something else under the parka, he'll choose whatever has muted, earthy colors; generally, these colors range from black, brown, green, and white. One thing that he seems to never switch out for anything else is the parka. Hell, it appears he has only one pair, with how worn and abused it looks. The thing's pitiful state has often led many to confuse him for some homeless man, or a broke college student.

Sage is too numb to be offended.

Besides, broke college students are a common species, and Sage likes being average, adores how easily he can be just any other person, identified in a crowd only by his eyes, the bandage on his face, and that poor, poor parka.

Height: 5'7" (171 cm.)
Weight: 147 lbs. (~66.6 kg.)
Body: Ectomorph, triangle-esque-shaped, "averagely" built.

Voice: [ Jonah Scott ]. Soft and quiet, and just the slightest bit gruff. A lower octave than usual masculine voices.
Accent: An unusual one. Some words are pronounced as if he's German, some words are said as if he's Spanish, and others sound like they'd come from a Russian speaker. He sounds as if he spent a little too much time in Italy and Ireland. Overall, though, his accent is a mix of the Rhode Island and General American accents.

Personality:
Sage is described by many to be extremely easygoing.

Likes: Coffee.
Dislikes: Existing, repetitive things, the gods, people who don't like coffee, emo fucking teens, thinking about his past (or thinking in general), and being forced to put more than 1% of effort on something.

Skills/Abilities:
• He is quite an expert at swordsmanship.
• He is proficient in archery.
• Sage is an impeccable sharpshooter.
• He is an excellent engineer.
• With motivation and persistence, he can bring himself to learn almost anything.

Strengths:
+ stuff.
+ stuff.
+ stuff.

Weaknesses:
– Apathetic || Someone can die in front of him and Sage wouldn't bat an eye. He might only show signs of being affected by it in order to not be questioned by those around him. It's not that he's pretending for the sake of looking like a good person, it's just that he's too tired to humor questions for his indifference. ::
– Severe Allergies || Sage is allergic to everything, including the air. That's right: the air. His allergies can range from very mild (inhaling coffee beans can give him a stuffy nose) to him going straight into anaphylactic shock (he is so deathly allergic to latex that he can't even taste a banana). ::
– Sickly || Sage can die of a common cold. To combat his sickly nature (or at least to delay the inevitable), he carries a shitton of vitamins with him, and also a plethora of medication that he probably doesn't have prescriptions for. The vitamins, supplements, and medication are the reason why his parka is so heavy. ::
– Hubris || Sage is overly confident in himself, filled with so much pride he's virtually exploding with it. ::

Power/Blessing: Not Blessed (Immortality... and Other Things)
Somehow, someway, without acknowledgment from the gods in much the same way as the others were, Sage obtained the ability to never age and, in some ways, never die. He can also "see" a number above the heads of people who are "fated to affect him." He has since referred to this number as a countdown to the date on which these people will die. Strangely, ever since the gods awoke, what numbers he can see fluctuate each time he blinks.
Pros:
+ Can't quite die.
+ Doesn't age.
+ That's probably all that's good about it.
+ Also, he can see a very specific number corresponding to a very specific thing above people's heads :)
Cons:
- He can still die. He can die the same way anyone else does. He isn't safe from any form of death mortals can succumb to. Not quite, at least.
- If he gets cut, even if it's a tiny cut, he'll probably bleed to death.
- When death is meaningless, so too is life. Sage finds no worth in being alive anymore.

Other: Stuff.

Waitlisted?: Yes.
Introduced: Later, at 7-Eleven.

@Xuan