#|| canon ||

[callmetwitchy]

There’s a present waiting for you either at your home or at a friend’s, depending on whether you’re okay with sudden visitors to your home or you’d have to be invited to his place.

Looks like the wrapping paper is homemade, too: blue, decorated with stars.

It’s a flat box.

Open it?

♥yes  no It’s a picture made out of pastels. Someone put a lot of care into this. There’s a note, too.

dear flicker,

merry gyftmas! i can’t wait to spend time with you during today if you can make it; i hope, whatever happens, you have a good one!

your friend, tangerine

The wrapping paper alone was enough of a surprise for the twitchy skeleton monster. He could tell from both appearance and feel that it had been homemade, not simply store-bought or found. He looked at it critically, not because he was judging its artistic appeal-- he thought it rather pretty-- but because who would go through such effort? 

     Of course he opens it, though with some reluctance. Twitchy was used to destroying things, but here he was being uncharacteristically careful. He will probably keep the paper, maybe use it for a project of his own in the future. It seemed such a waste to just tear it apart and throw away, even if it was just paper.

     But if he had such high opinion of the wrapping paper, the content of which it contained was another story.

     Immediately, a smile was on his face. He recognized the drawing of what it was suppose to be, and he appreciated the colors very much. He didn’t need to read the note to know who it was from, though he’s never seen such drawings from his friend before. Regardless, he reads the note, giving a mild snort at the nickname but it has long ago lost it’s mocking edge. 

     Twitch turned to his feline-friend on the bed, and showed Kit the wonderful picture of him. Kit seemed to like it, too; he at least meowed and rubbed against it. Twitch pulled it away before he could bend it and chuckled, setting it on his nightstand for the time being. He wanted to get it framed. Maybe he’ll ask his dad for help.

     In the meantime, he was going to go thank his friend personally.

[callmetwitchy]

Through the hours of the night that twiddled away The demon voiced the reasons of why he stayed  The boy was skeptical, doubtful, cynical and spiteful For which the demon did not blame And as the hours ticked on by  As the stars shown brightly in the sky When night was giving way to dawn and the stars began to fade Both of their minds had been made And from this moment on, they’ll never be the same

[unxknownxplayer]

Congratulations! You have a Ghost!

Audio had fallen asleep on the couch, his laptop left open on the coffee table. He hadn't meant to sleep. He only wanted to rest his eyes. Yet, for some reason, random spells of lethargy would hit him. Some minor, some extreme. This one hit him particularly hard, and he passed out the moment his head touched the cushion.

Someone else was here.

Silent. Observing. They were always drawn here. Their reach wasn't far. Not yet. But it stretched further and further every day. Pathways were opening. They felt the power growing. But here, they had information. Here they could rummage through the memories. Taking what they needed. Using it to expand their reach even further. Only selected memories. They weren't interested in the personal.

This day was just like those days previous. Draining the energy as the counterpart slept. But, this time, something caught their attention.

On the computer screen was something familiar.

They pull away from the unconscious form. Drifting over to the screen and kneeling before it, They reached out their hands...

….But they didn't have any. Not real ones that could touch the keypad. They tried. Fingers ghosted over and through, but never on. Yet they were having an affect. Clearly there was an affect.

But it wasn't enough.

They banged on the table, on the laptop, but there was nothing. Just their feverish nothings posting repeatedly with no solid communication. They could scream yet nothing would come of it, they knew.

The coffee mug next to them shattered, spilling the contents.

The laptop's fan whirred and whirred until the heat caused smoke and sparks, before shorting out completely.

Papers flew from their surfaces and scattered all over the  floor, books flew open and pages rapidly turned as if by a nonexistent wind.

In the kitchen the stove's temperature rose and the water began to boil furiously. The lights flickered.

Then.... Nothing.

The presence was gone. As sudden as it came. Everything stopped. The stove tops burned out, the water settling. The lights stayed. The papers rested upon the floor. And the books, though open, stopped turning.

Yet Audio slept on. Oblivious of all and unable to wake.

[non-est-sanctus]

Blind Moon

...It hurts. It always hurts.

Whenever she slept, and whenever she was awake. Deep within her self-conscious. She felt it and heard it. The screaming. The hows. The whys. The bloodshed, the torture. It made her heartache. It ached to know that, she didn’t even know who these screams belonged to, nor where they are from. Who were these people? Where are they? Why are they dying? Who killed them and brought them so much pain and suffering?

It would be the same, grizzly image all over again; be it a dream or within her meditation. There, the empress tread the deafening silent land that was foreign to her after all the screaming had died down. The same land riddled with the bodies of the deceased sprawled everywhere, from adults to the poor children, whose blood would paint the terrains of the landscape. Silver hues would observed the vicinity each time, pupils dilated in horror at the sigh before her. And all Cren could see was black; everything was in black, and yet she could still see clearly through it. A black haze that veiled the entire land in a strange unknown energy. What was it for? What does it do? She had no idea.

And in that dark haze, she would see a dark castle from afar, darker than the veil itself, standing tall and quiet amidst the foregone bloodshed. However, that castle was not alone. Crendessa stood outside those purple gates at the very base of the mysterious palace before her, with one lone figure standing atop the highest vertex balcony. A woman; that same dark-skinned, foreboding woman. She just stood there, staring out endlessly into the horizon at what seems to be nothing in particular. Her face would be concealed in a silver mask that the seraphim knew all too well; a mask that covered half the face, and only the right eye would be concealed; the left eye, was lifeless, soulless, that of a dead-fish. But she knew, Crendessa somehow knew, that her free eye was staring right back at her, fully aware of the light-being’s presence.

The woman would have a book -- a tome -- clutched tightly against her bosom; Cren could never make out clearly of the front cover of it, nor what it holds within. But...if there was one thing she would never forget, something that would be burned into her fortified mind, is what loomed over the entire land and palace from behind. That gargantuan moon in the sky that seemed to swallow everything else around it. It was dark, barely a hint of white on its surface; it was nearly black, wafting with surrounding energy that made it appear to look as if the moon itself were bleeding and dripping onto the land with the same dark haze. The disturbing surrealism of the moon’s surface was that of a face; a large circle -- the left opened eye -- and a long, curved line upon the moon’s surface, that appeared to be the closed right eye; it eerily matched the woman’s very own masked face. That moon, whatever it could be, was ball of pure immeasurable power that was effecting this land, and appeared to be living.

“Let them feel you. Let them know who you are. Don’t hide yourself any longer. Come to me.... ...and claim what is yours”.

The same mantra repeated to her, each and every time without fail. What did it mean? Why did this mysterious woman want Cren to reach her? Or is it the moon itself that was speaking to her? She couldn’t tell. They spoke to her -- beckoned her -- with a soft, yet powerful voice of a dignified matron. And whenever the Empress would hear that voice, another familiar feeling deep within her would stir within her in a violent wave of emotion that cause her to grab on to her branded forehead on instinct. At least, Crendessa knew what was stirring inside of her...and she could not come to terms with it. At least not now...

But the questions stands; who was the woman? And why does she call to her in her vulnerable moments of self-conscious to a land she knows nothing of?

And what does the woman have that Cren wants her to claim? And what is the meaning behind the moon?

__________________________________________________________________

[xrosier]

|| Motives ||

♦ Presently, Rosier’s main motive involves discovering a way to break the seal binding his master, Belial.

♦ He wholly believes that Belial holds the ability to bring about the birth of an ideal existence, and reveres him to an obsessive degree....

♦ Belial was sealed within the recesses of Inferno for being what the Officials considered an anomaly; Rather than thriving through devouring the energy obtained through human souls, Belial was feeding on that of other Demons. Every battle won increased Belial’s destructive potential, and he was only sealed through considerable effort by the Officials, after he unexpectedly dispatched and devoured one of them--  Mammon.

♦ During his time, Belial had a relatively small legion ( followers ) who believed in his ideals and his goal of dismantling the hierarchy of Inferno and Paradisio. Rosier served as his most fervent General.

♦ Rosier tends to align himself with powerful beings in a ( thus far futile ) attempt to seek leads on freeing Belial.

♦ Despite being eventually revived, Mammon remains pissed because Belial tore off his favorite arm. As Rosier was partially responsible for his loss, he and Rosier remain at odds to this day.

[xrosier]

|| Profile || Advantages to a contractor

Unlike many of his fellows, Rosier is willing to offer a contract to most anyone he finds interesting enough. The terms and length of his contracts vary depending on his motives. Reading the fine print is advised-- As is the presence of a philologist skilled in deciphering occult languages if required.

Forming a contract with Rosier, in addition to the usual perks with having an Arch-Demon at your service, provides the following benefits:

●      He is able to manipulate levels of desire ( mostly romantic, but can apply to other varieties ) in others as instructed by his contractor. For instance, increasing a persons desire to destructive levels, or alternitavely completely suppressing or redirecting said emotions toward another target-- animate or inanimate. 

●      He is able to mesmerize particularly susceptible targets into doing his contractor’s bidding. Less susceptible targets require inhaling or being subject to a direct injection of his blood. The effects are temporary, varying with the individual.

●      He can detect the presence of certain malevolent entities by their scent... But is easily nauseated by particularly powerful beings.

●      A skilled perfumer, he is able to distill most any scent into a bottled fragrance. Infusing his blood into the resulting perfume can result in temporary mesmerization on a target.

●       As a side effect, when Rosier has been present in a household for some time, feelings commonly associated with obsession may arise in others tied to said household to varying degrees. These include but are not limited to: Pining, jealousy, intrusive thoughts/fantasies and mania.

[servantofminerva]

Get to know your character(s)

GENERAL

NAME: Scarpetta Amelia Kurosaki. ALIAS(ES): White Stag. AGE: To damn old! DATE OF BIRTH:  August 23th.  PLACE OF BIRTH: N/A HOMETOWN: N/A SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Japanese , English, German and Navajo. SEXUALITY: Bi-sexual. OCCUPATION(S): Thief, assassin and solider.  

APPEARANCE

EYE COLOR: Hazel. HAIR COLOR: Black. HEIGHT: 5′7 SCARS: One on her hip and some on her fingers. BURNS: None. OVERWEIGHT?:  Impossible. UNDERWEIGHT?: Yes.

FAVORITE COLOR(S): Red, purple, orange, blue anything dark.  FAVORITE HAIR COLOR(S): Dark and red heads. FAVORITE EYE COLOR(S): Doesn’t have one. FAVORITE SONG:  Doesn’t have one. FAVORITE MOVIE: Doesn’t have one. FAVORITE TV SHOW: Doesn’t have one. FAVORITE FOOD: Potato soup and bread. FAVORITE DRINK: Water?? FAVORITE BOOK:  Doesn’t have one.

HAVE THEY…

PASSED UNIVERSITY/COLLEGE?: Yes. HAD SEX?: Yes. HAD SEX IN PUBLIC?: NO. GOTTEN PREGNANT?:No. KISSED A BOY?: Yes. KISSED A GIRL?: Yes. GOTTEN A TATTOO (OR MORE THAN ONE)?: Not yet. GOTTEN PIERCINGS?: No. HAD THEIR HEART BROKEN?: Yes/no. BEEN IN LOVE?: N/A. STAYED UP FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS?: Frequently.

ARE THEY…

A VIRGIN?: No. A CUDDLER?: Kind of. A KISSER?: Not bad. SCARED EASILY?: No, just superstitious. JEALOUS EASILY?: Sort of. TRUSTWORTHY?: Extremely. DOMINANT?: In the bed room. SUBMISSIVE?: Nope. IN LOVE?: Yes, but own;t admit it. SINGLE?: Very.

RANDOM QUESTIONS

HAVE THEY HARMED THEMSELVES?: Yes, HAVE THEY THOUGHT OF SUICIDE?: Yes. HAVE THEY ATTEMPTED SUICIDE?: Yes. HAVE THEY WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE?: Yes and have. HAVE THEY DRIVEN A CAR?: Yes. HAVE THEY HAD OR HAVE A JOB?: Yes. DO THEY HAVE ANY FEARS?: Yes and no.

FAMILY RELATIONS

PARENTS:  Mr. Kurosaki and  Mr. Kurosaki. ADOPTIVE PARENTS: An old shaman from a neighboring village.  SIBLINGS: None. PETS: None. ETC.: Form thug who over threw the system in her village for the sake of her people. 

TAGGING: Anyone who want’s do to this.