Post by elementress on Feb 7, 2008 10:04:33 GMT -8
Name: Adair (Noble, Exalted)
Age: It has been long since she had lost count, but she looks around 24
Gender: Female
Origin: Demon
Personality: Adair is arrogant of her skills, and her words are extremely cutting. Though severely vain, and manipulative, it has been long since she'd even heard the whispered rumors of happiness. Her expression is normally vacant, void of happiness, of anything at all. The only emotions she ever shows now is vicious anger, and the occasional delight at another's suffering, although with those whom she knows, she is surprisingly pleasant. Though you'll have a hard time finding anyone alive who Adair is on good terms with. Nonetheless, Adair has a tendancy to act as volatile as the weather, shifting from happiness to a tempest of rage. Her tenacity does, however, send many backtracking. Adair spends most her time training for she is ambitious. Adair has a cryptic tendancy to kiss her victims, before she kills them. "Kiss of Death" she calls it, and a bitter laugh is torn from her throat.
Appearance: Adair is strikingly beautiful, from the glittering crimson of her eyes, to the porcelein expanse of her skin. She has faint, red, spidery markings slithering across her body, in which when she uses her powers, they glow brightly. Aside from that, her skin is without a blemish. Her hair is a color of subdued red, dark enough to be called black, and runs smoothly as a charcoal waterfall down her back. On her head, are horns, proving her noble lineage. There are eerie blood wings on her back, the bone trimming of the wings is connected to her weapon, the Scythe. Her clothes, (No, she isn't wearing the same ones in the picture ><) are normally black, the color of sorrow and mourning. Although this does not take away from her appearance, for she wears many baubles, though unnecessarily. More often than not, she carries a scythe with her, made of bone. Sharper, and more indestructible than anything. When used, spidery red carvings glow as a result of her battles.
Powers: Adair can read the thoughts and emotions of a person. As a result, she can faintly influence a person's emotions though she can do nothing to manipulate one's thoughts. It is quite easy for her to settle down a room of angry people, or excite a lethargic crowd. Her ability to read minds gives her an advantage in battles for she can read their actions a second before they make them. Adair often finds her powers very troublesome, for the ability to read thoughts and emotions cannot be turned on and off. It takes many years to simply tone out the voices in her head, and zone off. With the wings on her back, she can fly but the distance of which she can soar is very limited. Her use of swords is exempt from her powers, they are mandatory with any creature of Darkness.
Name: Daray (Dark)
Age: Unknown (very old)
Gender: Male
Origin: Shape-Shifter
Personality: Daray is aloof, and can honestly be described as a letcher and a depraved pervert. He is an easy conversationist, and there is something in the deep tenor of his voice that makes him easy to trust. He uses this to his advantage, and despite his nonchalont demeanor, he is still a minion of the Dark, and is very manipulative. His 'skill' seems to work best with women, and when asked why, he simply looks befuddled. Daray is known to be ambitious, and he strives for Adair's favor, his recklessness is almost as well known as his reputation. He is brash, and stupid. You could dare him to do something and he'd do it, unless it was very stupid (even then, he'd entertain the thought). His easy smiles are very charming, and he is often liked, even by his reluctant enemies. However, during the most strenuous and severe of times, Daray often places a placid mask of void emotion upon his face, taking the situation with dire severity.
Appearance: Daray's skin is very pale, ashen and grey. Often described as sickly. But surprisingly, this only accentuates his gruesome beauty. It is almost sickening, or so people tell him. He has light grey hair, that falls around his face in tumbles of curls. There are dark horns on his head, signifying his noble lineage, as well as his power. The spidery markings on his arms mean that he has come into the age of power, and has reached maturity. More often than not, he refuses to wear a shirt, his vanity forces him to simply show off these markings (and possibly his abs.) Instead of a shirt, he wears a dark black cloak, tattered in the back. Often accompanying him is Adair, whom he claims to be a nuisance. His weapon is a double-sword, with a decorative hilt. The necklance hanging on his chest, was given to him by a brother, killed by a minion of the Light. He carries it always, and it holds great symbolism and significance to him. He never parts with it, and often during battles, he grips it tightly in his fist, for good luck.
Powers: Daray has the power to change his appearance at will, as well as his voice. There is virtually no way to tell from him, and the person's appearance by look. Unfortunately, he cannot manipulate their personalities, should he be encountered by their acquaintances. As a result, he gets caught by those with higher authority, and is berated. But no more than an admonishment, for his charm and slick silver tongue, often helps him out of tricky situations. His ability with combat is incredible, for he has exceled since a child. Many a times, he can defeat a higher-ranked Darkling. Other than this, his charms are effective enough to an extent that some would call it a power, Daray denies that he has any charm at all, but flashes an irrestistible grin anyway.
((Ano...I think I should only post one example of my roleplaying? Rather than twice for two characters. XD Makes more sense that way.... So....I'll do it now.))
“These stupid Elvish clothing really bother me.” Rumbled a deep tenor voice from the vast veil of the shadows, irritation was clear in his throat. Daray moved swiftly through the shadows, his body blending seamlessly into the night, despite his large build. Annoyance was splayed across his face and his large hands fidgeted with the clothes that fitted closely to his body. “There is not a reason why I can’t enter the Elvish palace in the attire I was wearing before.” even as he sulked, his voice rumbled irresistibly.
Daray’s feature’s slowly changed and rapidly. Rather than his scowl, that stayed the same, his features contorted, his chin was more squared, his eyes more angled and his ears pointed. Spouts of blonde hair replaced the ashen grey that grew from his head, his coal-black eyes changed to a startling blue. “I think it’d be less conspicuous of I were an Elf. Another shape-shifter would definitely rouse suspicions, seeing as there are so many.” he reached a hand to his ear, and tweaked the tip, experimentally. “Huh,” he grunted softly. “That still feels strange, every time I try it.” he frowned a little, before turning to his companion with a large grin. “You’ve got a thing for pointy ears, don’t you?” he teased, blue eyes sparkling.
Adair scowled in reply, baring her teeth at him and despite the livid expression written on her face, her eyes seemed to be exempt from the emotions, splayed so plainly. They were two coal-like voids. Daray really should’ve taken up the bow, for he was an excellent shot. He knew of her preference to Elves, and how that had gone horrendously wrong. “Shut up Daray.” a guttural snarl ripped from her throat, and she watched in exasperation as his smirk merely broadened.
She really couldn’t stand him, or his charisma. His easy out-going attitude was something she envied. And although it was quite easy to feign enthusiasm, there was the feeling that was missing. The feeling of the brightening of her dreary, dark soul. The grace of a genuine smile, broadening her lips. Warming her thudding heart, something that should’ve stilled, long ago. Her eyes flashed dangerous and there was a sudden peak of emotion that peered in through the veils that dulled her striking crimson orbs.
Daray chuckled, a dark expression closing in on his features. He knew Adair for a very long time now, since she was nothing but a smile child even. She was bright, and cheery as an infant, and at times he swore he could still see the child-like innocence on her face. He often wondered what happened to his little sister, because the Adair he knew now, was a cold, barren stranger.
Their legs were moving, closing in on the castle, and he knew Adair was reading his thoughts, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She seemed pensive but he knew her well enough to see the turbulence that shook her emotions, just beneath the surface. “Are you still angry at me?” he said softly, moving in her path to stop her steps toward the castle. As he expected, she merely glanced at him, bored. “I don’t think we’re close enough to possibly be angry at each other.” she stated frigidly, her eyes dead.
Adair clenched her teeth, and snapped her jaw shut audibly. And neatly side-stepped him, allowing a small slither of emotion to flood him: lethargy. Daray immediately scowled, feeling exhaustion suddenly claim him, and the lids of his eyes nearly slid shut. “Aw, Adair!” he complained, his lips twisted in a grimace. “Don’t do that to me!” Who was this stranger? The Adair he had known would’ve never, ever done what this stranger was doing to him.
“Then don’t get on my nerves!” Adair retorted, a flash of anger broke through the curtain of boredom that claimed her. She ignored the stab of hurt she felt, that obviously came from Daray. She also ignored his thoughts, wondering what happened to her, wondering who this shell was. ‘Adair is dead.’ she though hollowly, and turned away from him, with an air of finality.
‘Fine.’ thought Daray in retort, and knew that Adair could hear him, with her strange powers to read minds. But just as he was about to open his mouth to say something cutting, he could hear footsteps, coming ever closer. ‘Adair,’ he thought in warning. But the Demoness next to him, nodded and said “I know.” her voice was once again, frightfully barren. Nodding to her once, he disappeared in the shadows, weaving seamlessly in the dark.
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