[doctorbloodthorn]

1. What is your OC’s orientation?

Lesbian/Poly

2. Has your OC ever been in love?

Yes. 

3. How many relationships has your OC been in?

Very few. Maybe 2. Countless flings, however.

4. Does your OC become easily attached?

Not at all. If she does, consider yourself that special 1%!

5. What does it take for your OC to be attracted to someone? It takes a woman, first off. Feisty demeanor, pretty face. Good hygiene. Passion. A headstrong, ambitious personality.

6. Is your OC monogamous or polygamous?

Poly, occasionally investing in one 'favorite'. Essentially, an unspoken label of monogamous.

7. Who was your OC’s first love, if any?

 Eradrin Lenkov, her former assistant.

8. What is your OC’s relationship status?

Unlabeled. 

9. Is your OC actively looking for a new partner?

Not actively, no. She is currently stationed in Draenor. 

10. What are traits your OC finds desirable? 

A remarkable set of curves accentuated by snug materials of choice, a snarky attitude, plush lips, soft skin, lewd talk and expressive eyes. 

11. What are traits that turn off your OC?

A dull personality, bad hygiene, yonder.

12. How does your OC show affection?

Touch, smokey whispers, sly smirks and plenty of hickies. If she's serious, there may be roses involved.

13. How would your OC confess their feelings

Anxiously, if unaided by booze. 

14. Does your OC hope to get married?

No plans.

15. Would your OC cheat? Her relationships are always open. She wouldn't be in a situation that would make cheating possible.

16. How would your OC react to being cheated on?

Laugh.

17. How would your OC react to being caught cheating, if they would?

Pitiful, perhaps with a twinge of guilt.

18. Has your OC ever thought of children with someone?

Not yet.

19. Will your OC have children?

She really shouldn't.

Tags:

mistysoulreave zephyrstratton dollsandkpop confessionsofalola

[doctorbloodthorn]

| The Basics ||

Name: Aislyn Diage Bloodthorn Nickname(s): Dia, Diageo, Doc, Biohazard Age: 136 Species: Sin’dorei

|| Personal ||

Morality (Bold One Per Section): Lawful / Neutral / Chaotic ||| Good / Gray /Evil Religious Belief: None Primary Goals In Life: Money, Power Secrets: Her life is a tale of secrecy.  Quirks: Paranoid, Hydrophobia, Addictive personality, Brazen, Meticulous, Critical Savvies: Charisma, Science and Mathematics, Mechanics, Weapons

|| Physical ||

Build: Slender / Scrawny / Bony / Fit /Athletic / Herculean / Babyfat / Pudgy / Obese / Other  Height: 5'10" Scars/Birthmarks: Mottled black spiral on the left shoulder blade, tribal dragon along spine, semi-mechanical left arm forged from steel. Restrictions: Large bodies of water

|| Favorites ||

Favorite Food: Chocolate Favorite Drink: Irish coffee. Favorite Colour: Black/Green Favorite Music Genre: Classical, Dark Ambient Favorite Book Genre: Psychological Horrors Favorite Season: Fall/Winter Favorite Butt Type: Any Favorite Swear Word: Fuck Favorite Scent: Tobacco Favorite Quote: "Mechanics and surgical work go hand in hand. The body of a vehicle is much like that of a woman." -Dr. Bloodthorn

  || Fun Stuff ||

"Boss" Theme Music: Into the Past - Nero Bottom or Top: Top Sings In The Shower: Surprisingly, yes. Likes Bad Puns: How about not.

zephyrstratton  - didn't tag me, but I read yours and figured why the fuck not. xD

I tag.. anyone who hasn’t done it yet. Lazy as fuck. Mention me as your tag and I’ll read it.

[doctorbloodthorn]

Diage's third client entered the examination room. He wasn't anything like his kin. Stalwart muscles, 5' o clock shadow, a Herculean angle to his jaw. Early stages of crowsfeet indicated his age, and while his veridian hues confirmed this notion, they also burned with youth. He reeked of booze and saltwater, it'd practically seep through his russet, tattoo riddled skin and bedraggled leathers. There was a dash of arrogance in his stride as he approached Dia's desk, grabbed hold of the poor little chair, and flipped it around in one single motion so that he may sit in a less than traditional, I-don't-give-a-fuck fashion.  Throughout this pompous charade, Dia would have hardly blinked an eye. With a subtle clear of her throat and a quick adjustment of the twin lenses hanging from around her collar, she'd carefully fold her knuckles across the desk.  "How may I help you, Sir... Octavius, is it? Right. What seems to be the problem?"  The man, deemed Octavius, outstretched a hefty arm towards Diage, a pained expression replacing the crude smirk on his lips.  "I've got this pain, Doc. Right by the wrist. Ever since this damned lizard sunk its teeth into me." Dia lifted the goggles and pulled them over her eyes, plucking at the cogwheels to get a better look.  "A lizard. Do you know what kind of 'lizard' this was?"  "One of those fuckin' basilisks that roam 'round the bay."  Octavius'd wince, stifling a growl as the Doctor placed a gloved thumb to the surface of his wrist.  "Hm. I am going to have to take a sample."  Octavius nodded, retracting his arm for a brief moment before laying it back down on Diage's desk as she began preparing the syringe.  She felt his eyes upon her. Studying her. They never left her face. But Dia continued to work, she was used to deluded womanizers prancing into her office. They still put money in her pocket.  "Ayslin."  Diage stopped dead in her tracks. She stared right back at the man.

[doctorbloodthorn]

The night was young and fair, the sunset hanging over Terokkar Forest like a nubile bride on her honeymoon. "Sit." Dia lit a cigarette and placed it between her teeth. Crel situated herself in the corner of the room, refusing to oblige her mortal counterpart. "Spit it out." The Forsaken hacked a rattly cough, as she seemed to take her own advice, spitting into the planter. Diage breathed out a heavy, smokey sigh as her eyes gravitated downward, balancing the cigarette between two metal digits across her knee. "Regarding our next course of action..."

[scottishwobbly]

Shadow inserted his coin. The drunk in the graveyard raised his bottle to his lips. One of the gravestones flipped over, revealing a grasping corpse; a headstone turned around, flowers replaced by a grinning skull. A wraith appeared on the right of the church, while on the left of the church something with a half-glimpsed pointed, unsettlingly bird-like face, a pale, Boschian nightmare, glided smoothly from a headstone into the shadows and was gone. Then the church door opened, a priest came out, and the ghosts, haunts, and corpses vanished, and only the priest and the drunk were left alone in the graveyard. The priest looked down at the drunk disdainfully, and backed through the open door, which closed behind him, leaving the drunk on his own. The clockwork story was deeply unsettling. Much more unsettling, thought Shadow, than clockwork has any right to be.

Neil Gaiman, American Gods (via cliffordsworld)

[doctorbloodthorn]

"Feel how sweet it is." 

A taste of delicious chaos and primitive tasks - all for a good cause, of course. He’d shrug his scrawny shoulders and excuse himself as intoxicated. You can’t shrug away temptation. Behind those powder blue contact lenses and thick maquillage lie destruction. Destruction cast beyond steel and a thirst for flesh and whiskey. Too beautiful to be human, and human she was not.

How easily the young lad fell victim to her ploy. An impressionable youth among others who would soon become faceless, nameless laborers. 

[doctorbloodthorn]

[doctorbloodthorn]

Thunderstorm in Valley of the Four Winds

[doctorbloodthorn]

The Stockade

The crazed laughter, cries and screams from the other inmates echoed throughout the halls, as Diage remained silent; relieved, however, that the corrupted Stormwind City guard had finally made his exit. She leaned back against the rusted iron bars, watching with aversion as the jail cell rats scampered about the grimy floor in search for food. When they found the tray with the stale sandwich, the cadaverous rodents squeaked and squawked into a mass hysteria. Little did they know, the mayonnaise on that mystery meat that they so desperately fought over wasn't... actually mayonnaise.

The sting from the beatings and burns began to ache, just as the reality of it all slowly sank in. With each breath came a jolting, pinching pain at the bottom of her left lung. A cracked, possibly even broken rib. The Requiem tabard and loosely fitting, plain black garb covering her form were tattered and stained with her own blood. She'd reach for the tin cup of toilet water she was given, only to sip hesitantly before hurling the cup and its contents across the floor, breaking up the frenzied pack of rats. Her hands were still cuffed, making this task difficult, but she'd manage nevertheless. The blistering pain in the center of her right palm was beginning to throb. Hunger and desolation were starting to take over.

Dia curled her battered knees up to her chest, reluctantly, as even the slightest movement would trigger a new pain that didn't exist just moments before. She'd return her glance towards the rodents, that were by now screeching over the last breadcrumbs. Compared to that pathetic, cum-slathered sandwich, anything was gourmet. Holding her ribcage, she'd drag herself half way across the floor, her presence hardly phasing the animals. The next few moments were spent concentrating on each rat, and which one would make a somewhat adequate meal. The rats hissed and spat at each other, and then at Dia when they finally noticed her coming near. Skin and bones, probably rabid at that.  By now, she would have little idea of when her execution would take place, but she'd hope it came fast. Draping an arm over the old wooden crate, she'd hang her head, another sleepless night in the Stockade. 

[doctorbloodthorn]

[doctorbloodthorn]

Caption: Refurbished gold pocket watch, flip top lighter

[doctorbloodthorn]

Crow

She was a young, insolent mastermind with a scalpel, and probably a wrench. Fresh out of adolescence, no more than an amateur, a scavenger. She cleaned up the bloody messes that the syndicate left behind. The dirty work; bones, bowels, brains and all. It wasn't to her disadvantage, however. It wasn't because she was the shop bitch, the custodian. Diage hadn't even finished medical training, yet still, she'd convince the rich and the penniless that she was indeed, a "surgeon". She was useful to the corporation, though she rarely participated in front line work. She'd leave that to her comrades. 

[doctorbloodthorn]

The hills separating Duskwood and Deadwind Pass were eerily silent on that night. Not a whisper in the wind, not a raven to take flight. Lou slept by her head, as he always had; her canine companion, with a coat of driven snow. The violet hue of dawn poured through the open manor window. Mother Lillin's footsteps went unheard against the tile, silent as her secrets of harming the child. Ith'ael would follow in her pink lace gown, without a word to say. As far as she knew, if she spoke, she too would pay. Diage was awoken only to darkness and the pained shriek of her dog. A strip of cloth held over her visage would blind her from the world beyond. She would have fought against it, if she were not still crippled from sleep, and maybe, just maybe, the woman's grip around her wrists were not so secure. Her muffled cries were no more than a mere inconvenience. And then she was dragged, down the flight of stairs, the hills, into the foliage that clung with morning dew. Once they reached the family's barn, her vision would be granted, but for only a moment. Enough to register the older woman's stone cold face and the livestock trough just inches from her bare feet. Then, the rush of freezing water against her face. It flooded over her head and numbed her nostrils. She'd grip the damp, metal frame as she made the desperate attempt to break free. Silent screams, that the water would consume and spit out into bubbles. Her lungs were burning, heart pounding frantically as her short life flashed before her very eyes, her demise, inevitable. She reached for oxygen, or even the hand of her fear stricken cousin, whose own cries could be heard by the doorway. Oh, but the haunting sounds would fade along with her consciousness as the frigid, cruel hands around her neck forced her deeper into the pool...

[doctorbloodthorn]

The effects of EXT Alphite, also known as Felullose, were gruesome, in fact. Ate right through the flesh, every bit of muscle and tissue down to dry bone. There were three (3) levels of potency. 

1. Pernicious Stage

If inhaled as a gas/vapor the victim will suffer breathing difficulties 15-20 hours after exposure.  

Rapid pulse, muscle weakness, external and internal lesions (skin, mouth/throat, lungs), dizziness. These progress until the 5th day, where the victim dies of asphyxiation. 

Direct skin contact; at first, there is no more than a slight irritation. Within 18 hours, scabs begin to form over the affected area.  42 hours, skin lesions, muscle weakness.

72 hours, vomiting, fever, dizziness, damage to the nerves, skin peeling

Organ failure, necrosis of limb(s), breathing difficulties, vision loss, drooling, shock and ultimately death by the 5th day. 

2. Malignant Stage

Blood-borne; Often injected into the victim or infused into a weapon of choice. 

Cells immediately begin to die, blood vessels degrade and lead to necrosis. Within 24 hours, the muscle and surrounding tissues will have been destroyed.

48 hours, The bone will gradually begin to chip away, leading to loss of the limb. Physical illness begins to set in; rapid pulse, cold, clammy skin, breathing difficulties, vomiting. Ultimately shock, then death.

3. Lethal Stage

Applied to weapon, injection, skin contact, or vapor/gas

If breathed in, the victim will instantly experience tightness of the chest, searing pain in the lungs, mouth, throat and nose. Vision loss. Shock, organ failure. Death comes within the hour. 

Upon blood or skin contact, immediately resembles the effects of Stage 2.  The toxin attacks the nearest organ, muscle and/or bone. There are variations of the Lethal dose, where the toxin travels to the brain stem, causing paralysis before shutting the body off completely as it disintegrates virtually… everything, from the inside out. The other variation does not reach the brain, and instead leaves the victim to suffer a horrendous, agonizing demise.

[doctorbloodthorn]

Actually bothering to update...So.... Here's a new character sheet.

Stats:

Name: Diage Bloodthorn

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Lesbian

Age: Young Adult (roughly 26-31 human years) 

Birthday: April 9th

Zodiac (Sun, Rising): Aries, Virgo

Race: Sin’dorei (Blood Elf)

Eye Color: Fel Green

Hair Color: Black

Height: 5’9 1/2"

Weight/Build: Athletic

Birthplace: Redridge Mountains

Home: Azshara

Faction: Horde

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/Evil tendencies

Skills/Professions: 

Engineering: Chemical Weapons, Auto Mechanics, Enhanced Ocular Devices and Scopes

Medicine: Toxicology/Alchemy, Biochemistry, Herbalism, Vivisection and Surgical Specialization

Personality:

Positive Traits: Independent, analytical, determined, assertive, meticulous, leadership characteristic, witty

Negative Traits: Impulsive, obsessive, addictive behavior, apathy, sarcasm, facetious

[doctorbloodthorn]

[doctorbloodthorn]

I can feel the light

Somewhere in the darkness.

I saw the sign of rust,

and I read your name

Heard it fade into the past,

Where I'll follow you.