Post by heartsandhands on Nov 27, 2009 14:50:57 GMT -6
NAME; Mortola de Bello Monte; Queen of Fonce
AGE; Immortal. Appears to be a teenager.
GENDER; Female.
RACE; She is nothing. Not a human, not a vampire, nothing. It is a very popular rumor though, that she is somehow related to the gods. Abrafo, namely. But ah, how silly it is to listen to idle gossip.
ALLIANCE; Dark.
APPEARANCE; She is ethereal.
But the cloying rot-stench of dead things clings to her wake, wafting like too much perfume. The living shy away from her, away from the stink.
Crow-wing blue back hair falls in dull curtains past slender knife-bone shoulders, much like the rest of her too-thin body. 5’7 and dreadfully unhealthy, sickly, ill.
Terror crawls over her scalp, adding its own signature luster. Her blackbird’s hair is lacking but gleams.
Her skin resembles chilled milk - robbed of life-color by the sharp gauntness of her cheeks. All of her is sharp and concave, much like the emaciated creatures that tread in her shadows.
Round storm cloud eyes, masked by a spray of lashes; alluring as hurricanes. Impeccably straight nose, sculpted with a razor. Thieving all of the air into bottomless lungs. Oh - and the lips. Thin, sharp, and precise.
A mouth which breathes poison, a tongue that drips saccharine venom.
All angles and points and skin and bone.
Sick and hurting and miserable and perfect.
All in all, appealing as a slaughterhouse.
PERSONALITY; She is a leopard.
Distinctly feline in everything she does, every move she makes is a calculated plot. You’d never perceive her as dangerous based on solely appearance, but first impressions are a terrible deception. She herself might not have the physical means to murder, but she has the power to order anyone dead. And she takes a perverse pleasure in this knowledge, Mortola plays with her food - so to speak (and ‘off with their heads mentality).
She is a creature derived solely of flaws, her main one consisting of vanity; which it seems she has passed along to her son. Who knew the love of one’s self could be genetic? She is so absorbed in herself that it is much like drowning, and she seldom makes the decision to surface. The Queen is casually concerned with what others think of her, but does not allow this to govern her. If someone does not adore her (but who does, this beast woman who is unlovable) she can threaten them into instant worship.
Mortola likes nothing better than to entertain. While she feeds off suffering, she feeds off of high-spirits as well. A carnal being, dancing is the next best thing, a simulation of her very favorite past time.
Neither love nor loyalty come easy for the Queen, she abhors affection. The only time she approves of it is when it is for her.
HISTORY; Little is known of Mortola’s origins, only that she was born and later raised by witches. It is questioned, whether or not they bewitched the former monarchy of Fonce into betrothing the girl to their son. To get rid of her, some say, for she was a nightmare as a child. Not only did she act like one, but she caused them.
ABILITIES; + Necromancy. She can raise dead animals, and communicate with them. They do her bidding.
+ Illusions. She can cast nightmares upon those unfortunate to displease her. The kind that depict your worst fears, the kind that leave you without sleep for weeks.
DISABILITIES; - Sunlight. Not quite as affected as her son, she burns quicker than most, and takes to the shadows.
- Insanity. It knows no bounds, and makes her cruel.
SAMPLE; Do I need one? Since Bri was accepted.
AGE; Immortal. Appears to be a teenager.
GENDER; Female.
RACE; She is nothing. Not a human, not a vampire, nothing. It is a very popular rumor though, that she is somehow related to the gods. Abrafo, namely. But ah, how silly it is to listen to idle gossip.
ALLIANCE; Dark.
APPEARANCE; She is ethereal.
But the cloying rot-stench of dead things clings to her wake, wafting like too much perfume. The living shy away from her, away from the stink.
Crow-wing blue back hair falls in dull curtains past slender knife-bone shoulders, much like the rest of her too-thin body. 5’7 and dreadfully unhealthy, sickly, ill.
Terror crawls over her scalp, adding its own signature luster. Her blackbird’s hair is lacking but gleams.
Her skin resembles chilled milk - robbed of life-color by the sharp gauntness of her cheeks. All of her is sharp and concave, much like the emaciated creatures that tread in her shadows.
Round storm cloud eyes, masked by a spray of lashes; alluring as hurricanes. Impeccably straight nose, sculpted with a razor. Thieving all of the air into bottomless lungs. Oh - and the lips. Thin, sharp, and precise.
A mouth which breathes poison, a tongue that drips saccharine venom.
All angles and points and skin and bone.
Sick and hurting and miserable and perfect.
All in all, appealing as a slaughterhouse.
PERSONALITY; She is a leopard.
Distinctly feline in everything she does, every move she makes is a calculated plot. You’d never perceive her as dangerous based on solely appearance, but first impressions are a terrible deception. She herself might not have the physical means to murder, but she has the power to order anyone dead. And she takes a perverse pleasure in this knowledge, Mortola plays with her food - so to speak (and ‘off with their heads mentality).
She is a creature derived solely of flaws, her main one consisting of vanity; which it seems she has passed along to her son. Who knew the love of one’s self could be genetic? She is so absorbed in herself that it is much like drowning, and she seldom makes the decision to surface. The Queen is casually concerned with what others think of her, but does not allow this to govern her. If someone does not adore her (but who does, this beast woman who is unlovable) she can threaten them into instant worship.
Mortola likes nothing better than to entertain. While she feeds off suffering, she feeds off of high-spirits as well. A carnal being, dancing is the next best thing, a simulation of her very favorite past time.
Neither love nor loyalty come easy for the Queen, she abhors affection. The only time she approves of it is when it is for her.
HISTORY; Little is known of Mortola’s origins, only that she was born and later raised by witches. It is questioned, whether or not they bewitched the former monarchy of Fonce into betrothing the girl to their son. To get rid of her, some say, for she was a nightmare as a child. Not only did she act like one, but she caused them.
ABILITIES; + Necromancy. She can raise dead animals, and communicate with them. They do her bidding.
+ Illusions. She can cast nightmares upon those unfortunate to displease her. The kind that depict your worst fears, the kind that leave you without sleep for weeks.
DISABILITIES; - Sunlight. Not quite as affected as her son, she burns quicker than most, and takes to the shadows.
- Insanity. It knows no bounds, and makes her cruel.
SAMPLE; Do I need one? Since Bri was accepted.
