Post by B.lood on Sept 4, 2007 11:09:17 GMT -5
I am called...
River
I was forged...
female
I am labelled a...
human crossbreed
I feel pledged to...
earth
I am aged by...
300 years
I appear as though...
a goddess has possessed me.
River's body and visage are that of a picturesque world--in which beauty is limitless. Her face is angular, bearing a sophisticated, yet dangerous, light. Her visage is often mystic, showing a property so unknown that many are made uncomfortable by it--it is the facade of a woman who is strong in mind, vibrant in personality, and deadly in conversation. Her persona screams of an inner wild and her body shows it. Beautiful curves follow the contours of a thin waist--petite and attractive--which flows into the mold of firm hips, and a full bosom. Her alluring body is modestly covered, but the fabric is small and hugs her waist and legs in a very captivating manner, seeming to enunciate the flawlessness of her confirmation--providing a temptation for many young men.
Her eyes and hair seem to be the perfect balance of complete opposites, bearing the heat of a fire, yet the cool serenity of the water. Ocular pools of blue light seem to dance within the iris of her eyes, and her long straight red hair seems vibrant within the sun. Strands of dark black seem to flow throughout the fiery tassles, but do not dare to take away from the pure recklessness of the natural color. Her skin is palid, but is healthy and flawless... bearing a subtle glow that seems to radiate a false warmth, while her full lips lie teasing upon her mouth. Upon her right cheek she bears a perpetual tear, light blue as it fades into a fire-like wrath below her eye. She is exotic for such a simple race, known for its impurities... but it is a perfection that was not so easily obtained. There is a story behind her vanity like there is a story behind all things--big and small. It is not too uncommon, but her reaction has been slightly different than that of the women who preceeded her.
I am like...
a cautious snake, looking to strike yet looking for opportunity--awaiting perfection, looking for the weakness.
River is the kind of woman, many associate with a wench or whore. Her attractions and sense of purpose seem to fit that general genre, and her deep resentment towards others seems only to ward off friends or true lovers. Yet, she is not entirely unpleasurable company, nor is she heartless. Her mask--the brisk personality that she wears and covets--covers a hurt sensitivity that has lived with her over the years. It is a deep chasm of which she is made, and there are times when she does not feel like the strong minded woman that she portrays. There are times, when she feels weak--when her immortal shields are broken--and her perfection flawed. Times when depression leads her to the brink of her existance and she wonders at the true purpose of her life and the road upon which she has travelled. At such times, her vulnerability is boundless and her drinking common. She finds the pain of her emotions to hard at times, even for her strength in mind. She observes that the numb airial sense in which alcohol abandons her, is more often than not the best--if not the only--escape from her troubled emotions. The betrayal that once wounded her, still lives on, deep within her--and though the years would seek to mend the hurt, to stop the bleeding, there may never be a day when she can forget it. Yet, be aware that is not how she often seems. Reckless, wild, with a sense of danger about her, she is a vixen in a den of theives and maintains her beauty to maintain her edge. For she lives with a demon--a dark part of her soul that stepped forth to defend her when her humanity seemed to crumble, a malicious shadow that rose up in her weakness to crush that which would have ultimately destroyed her. Even now it rules her life, this figurative animal that is the instritual will to survive; yet its truth is far from seen until the brink of her revisitation is matched--when she recalls that fatefull day when her world fell apart, when she became River. At any such time, her innocence seems shattered, forgotten and lost--in its stead there is nothing but wrath. This rage lies ever watchful, awaiting an excuse, always expecting to be hurt--always ready to defend or retaliate. It is a deep darkness, and its surface is hidden mostly by her humanity--which struggles vainly to find a balanced peace in which she can return to a "normal" life, in which she can love again. But that day, seems so far away.
I am gifted, with...
the powers of time.
Indeed, River has a gift that revoves around the spectrum of time. It is an ancient talent, that one would not necessarily expect from a magi father and human mother. Many thought it a demonic skill, as it involved the trespassing of oneself through different dimensions of existance, stepping out of one's reality referenced to time itself. It is a complicated gift and hinders the user as much as it assists.
It's workings, it's rules, it's boundaries... all is difficult to explain in a simple step by step manner, and it is what some consider an independent magic--a power that is always there, yet only a select few can influence or access it's potential.
To be as blunt and simple as I may--without indulging in the concepts of how such complicated magics work--she can influence the rate of which her world goes by. Of course, from her perspective, things look differently--inversed--compared to what the uninfluenced may come to experience. For example, she can slow down the rate of life, making her world come to an almost complete standstill while she still moves about freely--uneffected by the draws of time. However, though the world is like a still picture to her--moving ever so slowly that motion can nigh be detected at all--to everone else she moves too quickly, nearly impossible to see or catch.
This is because...
...when she "jumps", her body is always connected to the time she left. She does not merely dissapear. Her body simply reacts, responds, and works within a time scaled differently than the present, making her seem incredibly fast or--though she hardly sees the point of it--really slow. She can still be contained by her physical world, she can still be attacked, she can still be killed. Communication is difficult as her words blur past in an uncomprehensible squeal or rumble on in a painfully slow baritone, and the power is revolved around the mind, thus it is a power reserved for times when she truly needs it.
Duely noted, it is a powerful ability, allowing her to slow down her world well enough to avoid most impending troubles or worrisome situations, as it's hard to catch something that moves faster than you ever possibly can--something that moves outside your reality of time.
However,
The ability is based off the control of the mind. Confusion of her senses, drugs, even alcohol can mute and even suspend her ability to control the "jump"--leaving her vulnerable or dangerous. She must have complete concentration to successfully commit to a transfer into another realm of time, so even her normal emotions such as sorrow or anger can complicate the process. It is not an effortless skill, thus it is not as potent nor as successful as often as she would like it. In some ways it is almost unpredictable--meaning at times she may wished to slow the world to a standstill, however some distracting emotion such as wrath might hinder her concentration, leaving her with only a small difference in her reletive time and the time of the present.
I must continue with but one other small detail of her talent. It is not impossible for her to take others with her, allowing her to temporarily share her ability. However, at the time of a jump, she must be in physical contact with that person. Likewise, they must be in contact with her to jump back, if she abandons them, they could be stuck within that dimension until she sees fit to return for them, and even that is not as easy as it may seem. There are hundreds upon thousands of layers, and she does not always remember the exact one upon which she may have traveled to and from, which sometimes complicates the said rescue. It is not uncommon for her to jump in a panic to avoid a situation and accidentally drag someone with her who may have had some kind of contact to her at the time.
Sample Post/history:
No one truly knows who River is--atleast not anymore. Her life, as it once was is long since gone and she nolonger wishes to remember it. Yet, it is amazing how hard it is for someone to truly forget and forgive. River will never forgive, but sometimes she would give anything to forget.
Forget, the love she felt, forget her horror, forget her hurt, her pain, her sorrows...
...she'd even forget her demons if she could, but then again they are who she is now and she half loves them. They had been her defense and though they were but figurative aspects of her own personality, they allowed her to move on and envelope a new part of her character that had otherwise just been a small rebellious devilry in her reletively innocent young life. No, she liked her hard outershell, her wild new ways, mysterious, venomous, and alluring all the same...
But memories do seem to have an uncanny ability to revitalize old passion and awake old pains as she found herself remeniscing about what was. It was the one weakness she portrayed--the straining link that threatened to snap and break all the defenses she had aroused.
She sat upon the roots of the gnarled old tree. It's branches were cold and bare, but there were so many that it's vacant boughs still offered a miniciple shelter from the cold fall of the drifting snow. It was a fragile storm compared to some of the deep freezes she had experienced in the mountains, but the cold was no less potent and she hugged her knees to her chest--her body covered by a wolfskin cloak, enveloped by an aura of warmth as a cold breeze nipped at her face. She had nothing but time--as ironic as that may seem--to sit here, in a thin layer of snow, watching the white world before her, silent and peaceful, and consider her old memories.
She didn't know why they surfaced now, old worn out, beaten, and ragged. Their hard hurtful images flooding her mind bringing old passions back from their shallow graves. Tears welled behind her eyes even as her anger brewed savagely within her heart. So much hate, over so many long, cold, lonely years--years filled with lies, deceit, and even blood. She still remembered it all.
She remembered the days where she grew up, a small peacefull little village on the outskirts of the earthen nation, where everyone knew everyone, and all was warm and comforting. There, she grew up with and learned to love a young many much like herself--so she thought. His name had been Ytei, and she had shared a passion with him up until the day they married. Even then, she was only 24. It seemed so long ago, and truthfully it was. A hundred years had passed, and they were tiring--always the same... cold and hard.
She ground her teeth together fighting not to cry. When was the last time she cried?
But the tear came anyway, sliding down her cold cheek, drying out from the dry winter around it before it could reach the crease of her full red lips--chapped from the winter's kiss.
He'd loved her until then... after that it would appear as if he felt he nolonger had to try. He stopped loving her, stopped liking her personality, lusting only for her alluring body and knowing he could take it when he pleased. How many years did she endure his torment--fighting to believe that it would not last, that he still loved her. She believed with a blind heart that she could still love him, that he still loved her... it was a reality she could not shake nor ignore--and with time, she stopped trying. Unable to understand or control her magical ability over the time--which had so ironically destroyed her--she could do nothing to stop him when he continued to abuse her. She tried to fight him, but it did little good... her soul seemed to be breaking, and it was a sensation of utter hopelessness that frightened her. She could not lose herself, would not lose herself... and it was that realization that saved her the night he might have killed her.
He'd been drunk, he'd been insistant, and as usual, when she said no he persisted in beating her in a game of violent seduction. Only this time, he did not have the rationality to know when to stop, and it was in her confrontation of death through blood stained tears that she broke. All the anger, all the pain welled up inside of her on that night. It burst forth, throwing herself and him into another world completely. She didn't understand it, but this new fervent passion was blinding and the feeling of the sudden power she had over him thrilled her as she dragged him deeper into her magic that had awoken so suddenly. It was an impulsive gesture, but it was freeing as she pulled him backwards, slowing down, while the plane they left whizzed forward. Then... she let go.
Immediately she snapped back to her life, but her husband did not. Her eyes, tired, exhausted, her body near breaking from a defeated tiredness looked over to see him there, rushing her, falling towards her, but moving ever so slowly. And that's how she left him, trapped within a perpetual world that would forever leave him behind, unable to keep up.
Days later she was a new person, a new river, nolonger just an innocent love struck girl, but a woman now capable of terrible things. She knew what it felt like to be free, to release and welcome her emotions, her savage anger, her hate, her sorrows. It created her hard outer casting as she enveloped that darker part of her soul, and held it tight unwilling to let love in ever again. It was a personality that lived with her today, the very same that she now bore underneath that winter stricken tree.
River chuckled aloud, one simple shallow sound and let a wry sideways smile tweak the edge of her full lips. Her light colored eyes looked out into the world of white as her crimson red hair framed her face, obscuring her vision slightly. She was done thinking about her old memories. Ytei had gotten what he'd deserved and she didn't regret it. The love was old and withered, dried and cracked, it could rekindle no passion now, no past desires for his lustful insensitive touch. River had become a steadfast young woman, confident in her nature, alluring, beautiful, and mature--yet dangerous and sly, hard and callous. She loved nothing except herself now, and she enjoyed breaking the hearts of men who fell for her touch and alluring kiss... breaking them just as she'd been broken. It was almost an addiction, as much as it seemed addictive to drink. Even now, as the cold seeped into the marrow of her bones, she felt herself hungering for the bitter taste of hard ale. But she had none, and frowned, basking in the cold winter around her--the only thing she had now to enjoy.
River
I was forged...
female
I am labelled a...
human crossbreed
I feel pledged to...
earth
I am aged by...
300 years
I appear as though...
a goddess has possessed me.
River's body and visage are that of a picturesque world--in which beauty is limitless. Her face is angular, bearing a sophisticated, yet dangerous, light. Her visage is often mystic, showing a property so unknown that many are made uncomfortable by it--it is the facade of a woman who is strong in mind, vibrant in personality, and deadly in conversation. Her persona screams of an inner wild and her body shows it. Beautiful curves follow the contours of a thin waist--petite and attractive--which flows into the mold of firm hips, and a full bosom. Her alluring body is modestly covered, but the fabric is small and hugs her waist and legs in a very captivating manner, seeming to enunciate the flawlessness of her confirmation--providing a temptation for many young men.
Her eyes and hair seem to be the perfect balance of complete opposites, bearing the heat of a fire, yet the cool serenity of the water. Ocular pools of blue light seem to dance within the iris of her eyes, and her long straight red hair seems vibrant within the sun. Strands of dark black seem to flow throughout the fiery tassles, but do not dare to take away from the pure recklessness of the natural color. Her skin is palid, but is healthy and flawless... bearing a subtle glow that seems to radiate a false warmth, while her full lips lie teasing upon her mouth. Upon her right cheek she bears a perpetual tear, light blue as it fades into a fire-like wrath below her eye. She is exotic for such a simple race, known for its impurities... but it is a perfection that was not so easily obtained. There is a story behind her vanity like there is a story behind all things--big and small. It is not too uncommon, but her reaction has been slightly different than that of the women who preceeded her.
I am like...
a cautious snake, looking to strike yet looking for opportunity--awaiting perfection, looking for the weakness.
River is the kind of woman, many associate with a wench or whore. Her attractions and sense of purpose seem to fit that general genre, and her deep resentment towards others seems only to ward off friends or true lovers. Yet, she is not entirely unpleasurable company, nor is she heartless. Her mask--the brisk personality that she wears and covets--covers a hurt sensitivity that has lived with her over the years. It is a deep chasm of which she is made, and there are times when she does not feel like the strong minded woman that she portrays. There are times, when she feels weak--when her immortal shields are broken--and her perfection flawed. Times when depression leads her to the brink of her existance and she wonders at the true purpose of her life and the road upon which she has travelled. At such times, her vulnerability is boundless and her drinking common. She finds the pain of her emotions to hard at times, even for her strength in mind. She observes that the numb airial sense in which alcohol abandons her, is more often than not the best--if not the only--escape from her troubled emotions. The betrayal that once wounded her, still lives on, deep within her--and though the years would seek to mend the hurt, to stop the bleeding, there may never be a day when she can forget it. Yet, be aware that is not how she often seems. Reckless, wild, with a sense of danger about her, she is a vixen in a den of theives and maintains her beauty to maintain her edge. For she lives with a demon--a dark part of her soul that stepped forth to defend her when her humanity seemed to crumble, a malicious shadow that rose up in her weakness to crush that which would have ultimately destroyed her. Even now it rules her life, this figurative animal that is the instritual will to survive; yet its truth is far from seen until the brink of her revisitation is matched--when she recalls that fatefull day when her world fell apart, when she became River. At any such time, her innocence seems shattered, forgotten and lost--in its stead there is nothing but wrath. This rage lies ever watchful, awaiting an excuse, always expecting to be hurt--always ready to defend or retaliate. It is a deep darkness, and its surface is hidden mostly by her humanity--which struggles vainly to find a balanced peace in which she can return to a "normal" life, in which she can love again. But that day, seems so far away.
I am gifted, with...
the powers of time.
Indeed, River has a gift that revoves around the spectrum of time. It is an ancient talent, that one would not necessarily expect from a magi father and human mother. Many thought it a demonic skill, as it involved the trespassing of oneself through different dimensions of existance, stepping out of one's reality referenced to time itself. It is a complicated gift and hinders the user as much as it assists.
It's workings, it's rules, it's boundaries... all is difficult to explain in a simple step by step manner, and it is what some consider an independent magic--a power that is always there, yet only a select few can influence or access it's potential.
To be as blunt and simple as I may--without indulging in the concepts of how such complicated magics work--she can influence the rate of which her world goes by. Of course, from her perspective, things look differently--inversed--compared to what the uninfluenced may come to experience. For example, she can slow down the rate of life, making her world come to an almost complete standstill while she still moves about freely--uneffected by the draws of time. However, though the world is like a still picture to her--moving ever so slowly that motion can nigh be detected at all--to everone else she moves too quickly, nearly impossible to see or catch.
This is because...
...when she "jumps", her body is always connected to the time she left. She does not merely dissapear. Her body simply reacts, responds, and works within a time scaled differently than the present, making her seem incredibly fast or--though she hardly sees the point of it--really slow. She can still be contained by her physical world, she can still be attacked, she can still be killed. Communication is difficult as her words blur past in an uncomprehensible squeal or rumble on in a painfully slow baritone, and the power is revolved around the mind, thus it is a power reserved for times when she truly needs it.
Duely noted, it is a powerful ability, allowing her to slow down her world well enough to avoid most impending troubles or worrisome situations, as it's hard to catch something that moves faster than you ever possibly can--something that moves outside your reality of time.
However,
The ability is based off the control of the mind. Confusion of her senses, drugs, even alcohol can mute and even suspend her ability to control the "jump"--leaving her vulnerable or dangerous. She must have complete concentration to successfully commit to a transfer into another realm of time, so even her normal emotions such as sorrow or anger can complicate the process. It is not an effortless skill, thus it is not as potent nor as successful as often as she would like it. In some ways it is almost unpredictable--meaning at times she may wished to slow the world to a standstill, however some distracting emotion such as wrath might hinder her concentration, leaving her with only a small difference in her reletive time and the time of the present.
I must continue with but one other small detail of her talent. It is not impossible for her to take others with her, allowing her to temporarily share her ability. However, at the time of a jump, she must be in physical contact with that person. Likewise, they must be in contact with her to jump back, if she abandons them, they could be stuck within that dimension until she sees fit to return for them, and even that is not as easy as it may seem. There are hundreds upon thousands of layers, and she does not always remember the exact one upon which she may have traveled to and from, which sometimes complicates the said rescue. It is not uncommon for her to jump in a panic to avoid a situation and accidentally drag someone with her who may have had some kind of contact to her at the time.
Sample Post/history:
No one truly knows who River is--atleast not anymore. Her life, as it once was is long since gone and she nolonger wishes to remember it. Yet, it is amazing how hard it is for someone to truly forget and forgive. River will never forgive, but sometimes she would give anything to forget.
Forget, the love she felt, forget her horror, forget her hurt, her pain, her sorrows...
...she'd even forget her demons if she could, but then again they are who she is now and she half loves them. They had been her defense and though they were but figurative aspects of her own personality, they allowed her to move on and envelope a new part of her character that had otherwise just been a small rebellious devilry in her reletively innocent young life. No, she liked her hard outershell, her wild new ways, mysterious, venomous, and alluring all the same...
But memories do seem to have an uncanny ability to revitalize old passion and awake old pains as she found herself remeniscing about what was. It was the one weakness she portrayed--the straining link that threatened to snap and break all the defenses she had aroused.
She sat upon the roots of the gnarled old tree. It's branches were cold and bare, but there were so many that it's vacant boughs still offered a miniciple shelter from the cold fall of the drifting snow. It was a fragile storm compared to some of the deep freezes she had experienced in the mountains, but the cold was no less potent and she hugged her knees to her chest--her body covered by a wolfskin cloak, enveloped by an aura of warmth as a cold breeze nipped at her face. She had nothing but time--as ironic as that may seem--to sit here, in a thin layer of snow, watching the white world before her, silent and peaceful, and consider her old memories.
She didn't know why they surfaced now, old worn out, beaten, and ragged. Their hard hurtful images flooding her mind bringing old passions back from their shallow graves. Tears welled behind her eyes even as her anger brewed savagely within her heart. So much hate, over so many long, cold, lonely years--years filled with lies, deceit, and even blood. She still remembered it all.
She remembered the days where she grew up, a small peacefull little village on the outskirts of the earthen nation, where everyone knew everyone, and all was warm and comforting. There, she grew up with and learned to love a young many much like herself--so she thought. His name had been Ytei, and she had shared a passion with him up until the day they married. Even then, she was only 24. It seemed so long ago, and truthfully it was. A hundred years had passed, and they were tiring--always the same... cold and hard.
She ground her teeth together fighting not to cry. When was the last time she cried?
But the tear came anyway, sliding down her cold cheek, drying out from the dry winter around it before it could reach the crease of her full red lips--chapped from the winter's kiss.
He'd loved her until then... after that it would appear as if he felt he nolonger had to try. He stopped loving her, stopped liking her personality, lusting only for her alluring body and knowing he could take it when he pleased. How many years did she endure his torment--fighting to believe that it would not last, that he still loved her. She believed with a blind heart that she could still love him, that he still loved her... it was a reality she could not shake nor ignore--and with time, she stopped trying. Unable to understand or control her magical ability over the time--which had so ironically destroyed her--she could do nothing to stop him when he continued to abuse her. She tried to fight him, but it did little good... her soul seemed to be breaking, and it was a sensation of utter hopelessness that frightened her. She could not lose herself, would not lose herself... and it was that realization that saved her the night he might have killed her.
He'd been drunk, he'd been insistant, and as usual, when she said no he persisted in beating her in a game of violent seduction. Only this time, he did not have the rationality to know when to stop, and it was in her confrontation of death through blood stained tears that she broke. All the anger, all the pain welled up inside of her on that night. It burst forth, throwing herself and him into another world completely. She didn't understand it, but this new fervent passion was blinding and the feeling of the sudden power she had over him thrilled her as she dragged him deeper into her magic that had awoken so suddenly. It was an impulsive gesture, but it was freeing as she pulled him backwards, slowing down, while the plane they left whizzed forward. Then... she let go.
Immediately she snapped back to her life, but her husband did not. Her eyes, tired, exhausted, her body near breaking from a defeated tiredness looked over to see him there, rushing her, falling towards her, but moving ever so slowly. And that's how she left him, trapped within a perpetual world that would forever leave him behind, unable to keep up.
Days later she was a new person, a new river, nolonger just an innocent love struck girl, but a woman now capable of terrible things. She knew what it felt like to be free, to release and welcome her emotions, her savage anger, her hate, her sorrows. It created her hard outer casting as she enveloped that darker part of her soul, and held it tight unwilling to let love in ever again. It was a personality that lived with her today, the very same that she now bore underneath that winter stricken tree.
River chuckled aloud, one simple shallow sound and let a wry sideways smile tweak the edge of her full lips. Her light colored eyes looked out into the world of white as her crimson red hair framed her face, obscuring her vision slightly. She was done thinking about her old memories. Ytei had gotten what he'd deserved and she didn't regret it. The love was old and withered, dried and cracked, it could rekindle no passion now, no past desires for his lustful insensitive touch. River had become a steadfast young woman, confident in her nature, alluring, beautiful, and mature--yet dangerous and sly, hard and callous. She loved nothing except herself now, and she enjoyed breaking the hearts of men who fell for her touch and alluring kiss... breaking them just as she'd been broken. It was almost an addiction, as much as it seemed addictive to drink. Even now, as the cold seeped into the marrow of her bones, she felt herself hungering for the bitter taste of hard ale. But she had none, and frowned, basking in the cold winter around her--the only thing she had now to enjoy.
