IC and Aesthetic Indie RP Blog for the Star Wars OC Ankaara Ravik - Darth Annihel. The Sith Of Many Faces. Movie and SWTOR Canon. Semi-Selective, Muse/Mun 18+, Multi-Ship. Read Bio Before Interacting! Face Claims: Meghan Ory, Charlize Theron.
Hey guys, to try and maximize my use of certain characters, I have moved them to a multi-muse blog! If you would still like to RP with this character, please follow me @adxastraxadore :)
Hey guys, to try and maximize my use of certain characters, I have moved them to a multi-muse blog! If you would still like to RP with this character, please follow me @adxastraxadore :)
Ankaara wasn’t one to frequent public places. She often found the task tedious and aggravating, as most people were often fools. This day, however, she had decided to leave the base for some air. After being cooped up among gray walls, it had started to get to her.
Something, or someone, however, was sending her off putting vibes. The Force. Amber eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the source of this untapped power. They settled on a boy.
Careful steps brought her to her target, almost sneaking up on the boy, as to catch him off guard. Once behind him, she cleared her throat.
◎: What is your muse’s most prized mundane possession? Why do they value it so much?
★: What is your muse’s idea of perfect happiness?
☩: Your muse is doing some intense spring cleaning. What is easy for them to throw out, and what is difficult for them to part with?
♠: What’s the worst thing your muse has done to someone they loved?
♢: In what situation would your muse feel most out of their comfort zone?
♣: What’s your muse’s biggest cause of stress or anxiety?
✚: What is the most frightening potential handicap or disfigurement your muse can conceive? What makes it so frightening?
✔: What did your muse want to be when they were a child? Did they go on to do this and if so, was it everything that they hoped it would be? Or has this desire changed since, and why?
❖: What is the attitude and appearance that your muse presents in public? How does this differ from the attitude they have in private, when they are alone?
✿: Which one act in your muse’s past are they most ashamed of? Which one act in their past are they most proud of?
➜: What sort of things does your muse keep in their pockets on any given day?
￭: If one of your muse’s friends was asked to describe them in a handful of words for a profile on a dating site, what would they say?
‽: Who or what, if anything, would your muse die for or otherwise go to extremes for?
▼: What would you find in your muse’s refrigerator right now?
♛: If your muse had to die, how would they like to go? And if they could come back as a person or animal, what would it be?
❸: Name three things your muse considers themselves to be very good at, and three things they consider themselves to be very bad at.
❦: If your muse was having a nightmare, what would be the worst one that they could suffer?
♫: What is one thing that your muse thinks they are talented at, but actually aren’t?
♞: Who was your muse’s idol when they were growing up? Who did they first fantasize about being like?
✱: What is your favourite ‘happily ever after’ for your muse? And what’s your most unconventional ‘ever after’ headcanon for them (happily or otherwise)?
✦: What is your muse’s fondest childhood memory?
♯: What would be the perfect gift for your muse?
❤: What is your muse’s perfect romantic date?
☮: When and where was your muse happiest?
☥: If events in your muse’s life had gone very differently to how they did, what would they have done with their life? What sort of occupation might they have chosen for themselves and would they, in your opinion, be happier than they are now?
☢: If your muse knew that they were going to die in 24 hours, name three things they would do in the time they had left.
☠: What is the one thing for which your muse would most like to be remembered after their death?
✎: Growing up, did your muse have a teacher or mentor figure? What was their relationship like?
✄: How does your muse perceive themselves, both internally and externally? How does this differ from how other people may see them?
✈: Was your muse popular as a child? Did they have many friends, and are they still in touch/still aware of what they are doing with their lives now?
♐: What is your muse particularly unskilled at?
☯: Who, if anyone, does your muse consider to be their best friend?
Wrote a drabble for Ankaara, its about time! It delves into her past, and her motivations for becoming Sith, and onward. Putting it under a read more, since its long and contains some triggers.
Nails filled sharp like daggers, just enough pressure on fragile skin, causing it to break. Crimson flows down the cheek, trickling its course down her pale skin. The smell of iron clashing with air intoxicates her like a fine glass of wine. With a lazy flick of the wrist, the body crashes against the nearest wall. Amber eyes watch as it sinks pathetically to the floor. They are not dead, yet. Not until she wills it.
Click clack. Click clack. Each step mocks her victim, as her heels dance on the cold steel floor. Hot blood turns cool on her skin, as she raises an elegant finger to her lips. The smell works it's magic further, stirring a madness from within. Temptation calls, and sweet iron nectar meets the warm surface of her tongue. A wicked smile dances across her once beautiful face, now twisted with a murderous craze.
She approaches, that same piercing gaze pitying her pray. "How pathetic. Now. Tell me where he is." There is no question in her tone, only demands. A defiant glare is her only answer.
An audible crack echoes, as sharp heel crushes fragile bones of the hand, causing a scream of pain from the wounded. The cry only fuels her satisfaction in the moment.
"Don't you tire of this dance? Speak what it is I wish to hear, and I shall let you continue your days living your miserable life. Intact... Partially." Another twisted grin, flashing white fangs great the man below her.
Silence is once again filled by screams of agony. The crackling of bone and twisting of flesh causes her heart to race, an arm forced beyond any natural angle, all at the will of her practiced hand.
"Tell me!" Blood curdling her screech is, deafening her victim. Once strong bones give way to the torment, shattering in a final attempt at resistance. Soon the wretch before her would succumb to their fate, cower before her.
His head falls down, blood still running its curved path down his cheek and jaw. She takes a few steps back, circling him. Like a vulture to its meal. Pink tongue dashes across her half painted lips, reveling in the lingering taste of her victims blood.
“Remember, when we were younger? And you’d take me to the balcony… Holding me by the back of my shirt, dangling over the edge….?” Her words are a cruel whisper, sharp like daggers. There is resentment and anger lacing her words, fueling her fire. He spits on the floor at her feet, earning another force shove to the wall behind him.
“No matter how much I screamed! I was terrified! And all you wanted was to drop me off the edge. Watch me fall hundreds of feet to my demise!” She clenches her fist, body rigid with passion and ferocity.
“That would be a quick, clean death. Not like the one I will give you.”
It had been years since she had left Dromund Kaas. Her father had whisked her away, all too happy to see her go. After her mother's death, what reason did he have for keeping her, the daughter of his mistress, around? Lady Ravik had been furious when Ankaara had been brought to them, and overjoyed when she left. Her brother, once a large cruel boy, whom Ankaara feared, now lay shoulders slumped, crippled before her. Pathetic.
“I’m sure you were ecstatic when Father sold me. When that Hutt dragged me off world.” She snarls, teeth bared. She remembered the day, all too well. The rain pummeling down on everything around her, the smell of the ship, the struggle to sleep. And everyday afterwards was the same sort of hell, maybe even worse.
“Its father's turn to suffer how I had. Now. Tell… Me…” The power that radiated off her, hard earned power, lifted him by his throat off the floor. He began to gasp, grabbing at his throat for release. He would get none.
amandla
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
gamechangershow
2087
gracieabrams
jimmyeatworldofficial
