-I don't care what your gender is as long as you can write a male character well.
-Third person, past tense, please. I find it hard to write against present tense.
-Modern day time periods with some rare exceptions for fantasy worlds. I enjoy my modern luxuries.
-Common courtesy to let me know if you're going to be a month or longer on a reply. My reply time can be sporadic so I don't mind waiting, but I appreciate not going three months no contact before I have a hard time getting back into the plot. Just keep me updated and I'm happy to work with you.
-Give me more than a three line reply and I'll return in kind. I don't require a novel of a reply, but I need something to work with.
-No flat out rape or abuse. I'm not here for a bunch of smut so no kink list, and I'm pretty vanilla.
-For the love of everything holy, do not flirt with me. I'm here to write and make friends, nothing more.
-If you don't have any public threads, please let me peek at your writing. I will, of course, present a longer sample of my own if my public threads aren't satisfactory. This is to assure that we both feel we are compatible with each other before we get into plotting.
-Third person, past tense, please. I find it hard to write against present tense.
-Modern day time periods with some rare exceptions for fantasy worlds. I enjoy my modern luxuries.
-Common courtesy to let me know if you're going to be a month or longer on a reply. My reply time can be sporadic so I don't mind waiting, but I appreciate not going three months no contact before I have a hard time getting back into the plot. Just keep me updated and I'm happy to work with you.
-Give me more than a three line reply and I'll return in kind. I don't require a novel of a reply, but I need something to work with.
-No flat out rape or abuse. I'm not here for a bunch of smut so no kink list, and I'm pretty vanilla.
-For the love of everything holy, do not flirt with me. I'm here to write and make friends, nothing more.
-If you don't have any public threads, please let me peek at your writing. I will, of course, present a longer sample of my own if my public threads aren't satisfactory. This is to assure that we both feel we are compatible with each other before we get into plotting.
Death Becomes Her
Sister, it's time to wake up.
Another century, brother.
Two of our sisters are dead, our mother mourns, and our brother cannot be controlled.
How long have I slept?
A long, longtime.
Time period: Modern Day
Source: Greek mythology with a twist
Smut level: Dependent
Fluff level: Dependent
Violence level: High
Character: Keres [singular; Ker] were female death-spirits. They were the goddesses who personified violent death and who were drawn to bloody deaths on the battle fields.
Age: Unknown
In a family made of darkness, death, and the odd addition of slumber, what does one do? When your twin sisters reign the battlefield and leave you nothing but scraps, when violence is not the way of your other siblings. You slumber, and await your turn to reap the souls of warriors. You wake to complete chaos, a family torn asunder by the deaths of its own. The responsibility you always wanted is yours, butthe world is nothing like it was before. How does one personify such violent deaths in times of growing peace? And if you can't, how do you live like the humans do?
The plot is meant to be worked as Keres waking to the news of her twins' death and being thrust down to Earth not knowing much about the modern world. Chaos and hilarity ensure on whatever poor soul ends up housing her.
Another century, brother.
Two of our sisters are dead, our mother mourns, and our brother cannot be controlled.
How long have I slept?
A long, longtime.
Time period: Modern Day
Source: Greek mythology with a twist
Smut level: Dependent
Fluff level: Dependent
Violence level: High
Character: Keres [singular; Ker] were female death-spirits. They were the goddesses who personified violent death and who were drawn to bloody deaths on the battle fields.
Age: Unknown
In a family made of darkness, death, and the odd addition of slumber, what does one do? When your twin sisters reign the battlefield and leave you nothing but scraps, when violence is not the way of your other siblings. You slumber, and await your turn to reap the souls of warriors. You wake to complete chaos, a family torn asunder by the deaths of its own. The responsibility you always wanted is yours, butthe world is nothing like it was before. How does one personify such violent deaths in times of growing peace? And if you can't, how do you live like the humans do?
The plot is meant to be worked as Keres waking to the news of her twins' death and being thrust down to Earth not knowing much about the modern world. Chaos and hilarity ensure on whatever poor soul ends up housing her.
March30th
Why did it have to be so bloody cold? She didn't remember the human realm being so cold, but she'd slept for so long that her power needed some serious recharging before she would be back to full strength. That was, after all, why her brother had torn open the Aether and tossed her down when she didn't have the energy to open it herself, why they had gifted her with some modern clothing on her back and the instructions to find herself the lodging they were in the process of providing her.
This was also the first time it had snowed heavily since her arrival. It'd been a bit rainy on the night she'd first touched her feet to the modern world, and had taken hours upon hours to find the domicile in which her siblings expected her to reside. It was a small little rental of an apartment, as they called it, in a less than favorable part of the city and on a ground floor that allowed her to avoid the hassle of remembering keys and stairs constantly.
It wasn't as if she had many belongings. The clothes they'd sent her down in, as well as a few meager things once she'd finally managed to locate this so-called apartment she was to stay in. It was so small, so run down, trapped in darkness and a heavy sort of violent aura that made her feel right at home despite her annoyance at the size. Gone were the large temples that she could sprawl out in after a night of too much wine with Dionysus, gone were the abundantly flowered fields for her to lay in after a glorious battle. For all of the centuries that she had been asleep, the world had changed so much and yet still so little.
Humans were still lying and cheating one another, still murdering others in cold blood but with new weapons. She didn't quite understand the contraptions that they called guns, other than they spewed out metallic smelling projectiles that caused moderate to massive injury upon the person they landed on. The smell of gunpowder clung to the blood and garbage filling the alleyways of the disgustingly dilapidated buildings, some structures so broken and crooked that she feared they may topple at any moment, although she salivated at the thought of so much death.
The amount she'd witnessed in the handful of days she'd been on Earth hadn't been nearly enough to restore her powers to fullness, and the short sleeve shirt and jeans she'd struggled to put on didn't provide much warmth on their own. Even the hideous things they called tennis shoes provided little when she was busy traipsing through the growing inches of snow, trudging her way through the alleys sniffing out her next potential prey. The darkness was a friend to her, domain of her mother above and a shelter in which to hide the unnatural red hue of her eyes and the glint of sharp canines when she attacked.
There he was, her prey-to-be, stumbling unsteadily into a back alley behind a brightly lit restaurant that had only a few cars still littering the parking lot. She could smell the drink on him, overpowering whatever disgusting type of perfume he had tried to mask it with, and beneath it all she smelled that familiar metallic hint of his weapon. Why he was slinking about in the shadows just as she was could hint at any number of things for the night ahead of him, but all she cared about was taking advantage of the mortal's stupidity and tearing out his heart to watch him bleed out.
What she hadn't prepared herself for was for him to hear her coming, to notice the rapidly increasing crunching noises in the snow as she fought through the onslaught still coming from the sky and hurled herself at the smelly human. She hadn't anticipated him pulling out another weapon on top of the one she'd smelled, the glint of a blade shining under one lone streetlamp that lit the edge of the alley. The fact that he'd managed to plunge it into her side was a direct blow to her ego as she snarled and wrapped her arms around his waist, sending them both tumbling into the snow as he howled and shoved at her frantically. A mortal had wounded her, a mortal had seen her coming and had gotten the jump on her and had drawn first blood. It was unforgiveable that she'd fallen so low from her former strength, from the rank she'd strived to get in the world of gods and goddesses, and now she was digging her sharp talons into his chest with a feral snarl and delighting in the scent of blood as it splattered the bright snow.
Would someone come to steal her bounty? No one had come when she'd watched one gangbanger, as they were apparently called, shoot another and then take off, and no one seemed to be making the effort to break up the fight that was turning the snow a deep red. She reveled in the feeling of blood soaking through his clothes, the way it clogged under the claws that had been delicate fingers just moments ago. She drank in the smell of it and the taste in the air, her lips parted as she shuddered briefly and then turned her attention to the fragile skin of his throat as she took a swipe at him just as the back door opened with a resounding thud against the brick wall. Great, the one time she was caught unaware and someone felt the need to interrupt.
Fuck it. Kill them all.
Why did it have to be so bloody cold? She didn't remember the human realm being so cold, but she'd slept for so long that her power needed some serious recharging before she would be back to full strength. That was, after all, why her brother had torn open the Aether and tossed her down when she didn't have the energy to open it herself, why they had gifted her with some modern clothing on her back and the instructions to find herself the lodging they were in the process of providing her.
This was also the first time it had snowed heavily since her arrival. It'd been a bit rainy on the night she'd first touched her feet to the modern world, and had taken hours upon hours to find the domicile in which her siblings expected her to reside. It was a small little rental of an apartment, as they called it, in a less than favorable part of the city and on a ground floor that allowed her to avoid the hassle of remembering keys and stairs constantly.
It wasn't as if she had many belongings. The clothes they'd sent her down in, as well as a few meager things once she'd finally managed to locate this so-called apartment she was to stay in. It was so small, so run down, trapped in darkness and a heavy sort of violent aura that made her feel right at home despite her annoyance at the size. Gone were the large temples that she could sprawl out in after a night of too much wine with Dionysus, gone were the abundantly flowered fields for her to lay in after a glorious battle. For all of the centuries that she had been asleep, the world had changed so much and yet still so little.
Humans were still lying and cheating one another, still murdering others in cold blood but with new weapons. She didn't quite understand the contraptions that they called guns, other than they spewed out metallic smelling projectiles that caused moderate to massive injury upon the person they landed on. The smell of gunpowder clung to the blood and garbage filling the alleyways of the disgustingly dilapidated buildings, some structures so broken and crooked that she feared they may topple at any moment, although she salivated at the thought of so much death.
The amount she'd witnessed in the handful of days she'd been on Earth hadn't been nearly enough to restore her powers to fullness, and the short sleeve shirt and jeans she'd struggled to put on didn't provide much warmth on their own. Even the hideous things they called tennis shoes provided little when she was busy traipsing through the growing inches of snow, trudging her way through the alleys sniffing out her next potential prey. The darkness was a friend to her, domain of her mother above and a shelter in which to hide the unnatural red hue of her eyes and the glint of sharp canines when she attacked.
There he was, her prey-to-be, stumbling unsteadily into a back alley behind a brightly lit restaurant that had only a few cars still littering the parking lot. She could smell the drink on him, overpowering whatever disgusting type of perfume he had tried to mask it with, and beneath it all she smelled that familiar metallic hint of his weapon. Why he was slinking about in the shadows just as she was could hint at any number of things for the night ahead of him, but all she cared about was taking advantage of the mortal's stupidity and tearing out his heart to watch him bleed out.
What she hadn't prepared herself for was for him to hear her coming, to notice the rapidly increasing crunching noises in the snow as she fought through the onslaught still coming from the sky and hurled herself at the smelly human. She hadn't anticipated him pulling out another weapon on top of the one she'd smelled, the glint of a blade shining under one lone streetlamp that lit the edge of the alley. The fact that he'd managed to plunge it into her side was a direct blow to her ego as she snarled and wrapped her arms around his waist, sending them both tumbling into the snow as he howled and shoved at her frantically. A mortal had wounded her, a mortal had seen her coming and had gotten the jump on her and had drawn first blood. It was unforgiveable that she'd fallen so low from her former strength, from the rank she'd strived to get in the world of gods and goddesses, and now she was digging her sharp talons into his chest with a feral snarl and delighting in the scent of blood as it splattered the bright snow.
Would someone come to steal her bounty? No one had come when she'd watched one gangbanger, as they were apparently called, shoot another and then take off, and no one seemed to be making the effort to break up the fight that was turning the snow a deep red. She reveled in the feeling of blood soaking through his clothes, the way it clogged under the claws that had been delicate fingers just moments ago. She drank in the smell of it and the taste in the air, her lips parted as she shuddered briefly and then turned her attention to the fragile skin of his throat as she took a swipe at him just as the back door opened with a resounding thud against the brick wall. Great, the one time she was caught unaware and someone felt the need to interrupt.
Fuck it. Kill them all.
Bring Down the Pillars
"Yeah, I killed Samson, what of it? They sent me from my realm to earth to have some fun. And your god? Your god can fuck off."
Name: Delilah
Species: Demon; succubus
Age: N/A
Traits: Fangs, claws, and the need for blood similar to a vampire. Requires sexual energy (Doesn't have to be actual sex.)
Limited teleportation ability. Lack of blood leads to loss of strength and less enhanced senses, causes slower healing time for any injuries.
Origin: Demon realm
Fluff level: Debatable; would like some build up
Smut level: Low-Medium
Violence level: Debatable.
Plot: Betrayed by his lover and stripped of his powers, Samson brought down the Temple of Dagon. The stories were passed down throughout the centuries. From parent to child, from church to scripture. But whatever happened to Delilah? Some say she was killed when the temple fell, some say she gave birth to a child from her union with Samson. Surprise, she's not dead.
Modern day:
"Can you really blame me for killing him? He was a well known sex trafficker. And besides, he enjoyed himself before he died, even if he didn't actually get laid."
"Delilah, you literally live on sexual energy."
"Yes, but I don't force myself on others."
Bodies tossed away, drained of their blood with their throats torn out. What better way to cover the evidence of your bite than to remove the throat entirely? Picking through men deemed the scum of the cities, drug off in hopes of sex only to end up lifeless. Hell, if you're going to run wild through the human realm, why not clean it up a little bit?
Still a vague plot, but more or less an old as shit succubus living on Earth and taking out bad guys. Sounds so elegant that way, right? Open to how the opposing party is played, as there's plenty of options. Please don't ask me to play a femme fatale that's just there to dominate your man and sleep with him. That's not the purpose of this, I'm not looking for a smut heavy plot despite the fact that she has succubus blood.
I would be more than happy to discuss her paired against an angel of sorts.
Name: Delilah
Species: Demon; succubus
Age: N/A
Traits: Fangs, claws, and the need for blood similar to a vampire. Requires sexual energy (Doesn't have to be actual sex.)
Limited teleportation ability. Lack of blood leads to loss of strength and less enhanced senses, causes slower healing time for any injuries.
Origin: Demon realm
Fluff level: Debatable; would like some build up
Smut level: Low-Medium
Violence level: Debatable.
Plot: Betrayed by his lover and stripped of his powers, Samson brought down the Temple of Dagon. The stories were passed down throughout the centuries. From parent to child, from church to scripture. But whatever happened to Delilah? Some say she was killed when the temple fell, some say she gave birth to a child from her union with Samson. Surprise, she's not dead.
Modern day:
"Can you really blame me for killing him? He was a well known sex trafficker. And besides, he enjoyed himself before he died, even if he didn't actually get laid."
"Delilah, you literally live on sexual energy."
"Yes, but I don't force myself on others."
Bodies tossed away, drained of their blood with their throats torn out. What better way to cover the evidence of your bite than to remove the throat entirely? Picking through men deemed the scum of the cities, drug off in hopes of sex only to end up lifeless. Hell, if you're going to run wild through the human realm, why not clean it up a little bit?
Still a vague plot, but more or less an old as shit succubus living on Earth and taking out bad guys. Sounds so elegant that way, right? Open to how the opposing party is played, as there's plenty of options. Please don't ask me to play a femme fatale that's just there to dominate your man and sleep with him. That's not the purpose of this, I'm not looking for a smut heavy plot despite the fact that she has succubus blood.
I would be more than happy to discuss her paired against an angel of sorts.
December 1st:
"Can you really blame me for killing him? He was a well known sex trafficker. And besides, he enjoyed himself before he died, even if he didn't actually get laid."
"Delilah, you literally live on sexual energy."
"Yes, but I don't force myself on others."
The red head woman sprawled out on the bed made a noise of disgust, shaking her head before poking at Delilah. A hand swatted at the offensive gesture, fingers wiping the remainder of black makeup from under blue eyes.
"Knock that off, Mara! I don't know why you get so grossed out about blood. You act like you've never clawed anyone open!"
"Well duh, during sex!" Delilah turned to glare at her before turning back to the mirror, tugging off her bloodied shirt and tossing it towards the adjoined bathroom. "You tear out throats, darling. Don't you think it's a little much? I mean seriously, who cares what happens to the humans here? They're just free meals."
"I care, because I live here. Besides, it's fun to see them bitching about me on the news, thinking it's a man doing all the killing." Mara gave her another noise of disgust, rolling off the bed and nimbly springing to her feet.
"I don't even know why I'm still here. I should just go home, away from this filth. I haven't hunted in awhile, and my bow is getting lonely."
"You and that damn primitive weapon. I much prefer the weapons of this realm." Opening up the top drawer of her dresser, she pulled out a gleaming silver dagger. "This beauty can slit throats in one swipe." Slamming it down into the dresser as the other woman jumped, she watched the wood splinter as it lodged firmly in the dresser.
"Jesus, Del!"
"Careful now, lest the angels hear you. You know they don't like that."
"Jesus goddamn fucking Christ! Go ahead, strike me down, I dare you!" Turning around and leaning on the dresser, Delilah let out a delighted laugh.
"Oh, I knew I adored you for a reason. Now, are you going to go home like you're threatening, or stick around and help me pick out an outfit?" Huffing, the other red head flopped back down on the bed and threw up a middle finger.
"Go wash up, you filthy maniac. I'll stick around, otherwise you'll end up dressing like this." Motioning to her own jeans and a T-shirt, she listened to Delilah's laughter as the rest of her clothes were flung away. The bathroom door clicked shut behind her, the sound of running water filling the room immediately.
"I was hoping to save those clothes." Pouting at the bloodied clothes she'd left just inside the bathroom door, Delilah stepped into the shower with a heavy sigh. The amount of clothes she'd ruined just for her meals was absurd, her wardrobe constantly replenished for outfits to entice her newest prey.
"Don't take an hour in there, though, or I'll fucking leave!" She rolled her eyes as she stepped under the water, mimicking her friend silently. For as much as the other demoness complained, she was always at her side the second Delilah needed her. It was one of the reasons she actually cared for her, unlike the other demons she couldn't possibly care less about. After all, survival was independently made in their realm. Love was a rarity, even with the mated couples.
"Stop being such a whiny bitch!" Shouting out from behind the closed door, Delilah worked her fingers through her bloody hair. "Bastard got my hair caked." Groaning to herself as she lathered up the shampoo, she worked it carefully through the tangled locks. She'd thought about cutting them several times, but men seemed to like hair that just brushed the top of women's breasts. Taking her time to untangle the matted locks, she hummed softly to herself before turning her attention to her blood splattered skin. She was usually more careful, but had nearly gotten caught and was forced to tear open a small portal to escape. While it was nowhere near impossible, it was a pain in the ass to rip open reality itself and disappear without a trace on such short notice.
"Are you almost done in there?!" She jumped at the sound of Mara's voice, rolling her eyes as she rinsed the remainder of the soap from her skin. The last of the red swirled down the drain, the water running clear as she finally shut it off. "Thank fuck, I thought I was going to have to drag your perky little ass out of there!" The bathroom door slammed open, Delilah standing there with an irritated expression on her face.
"Seriously, do you ever stop whining?! Did you want me to come out still bloody so you could whine about that too? Fuckin' hell, woman!" Snatching a towel off the bar on the wall, she wrapped it around herself before grabbing another to rub at her hair.
"Stop bitching or I'll tear open a portal and toss you home myself!" Padding into the bedroom still rubbing at her hair, she stuck her tongue out at Mara before yanking open dresser drawers. "Now what the hell do I wear? It's cold out."
"You'll be plenty warm when you're riding that blood and sex high."
"Sexual energy, you idiot. I'm not fucking some druggie asshole. They always suck, anyway, and not in the good way." Mara burst out laughing, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the towel clad woman.
"I love you too, Del. Still, nothing beats the old days, huh? I wish I had been alive to see you then." Rolling her eyes, Delilah finished with her hair and tossed the wet towel at the other demoness. A shriek sounded, the pillow flying back even as Delilah saw it in the mirror and ducked.
"You suck at that. The only good sucking you do is probably a dick."
"Says the succubus."
"Fuck off." Tossing the towel around her body at the bed, she listened to the repetitive shrieking as she continued to sift through the drawers. "Now, help me pick a damn outfit. It's already going to be a pain to walk in heels, so I'm not sure I can manage a dress. But damn does that pull people in."
"Oh, I'm sure it pulls them into something.." Her hand paused on the drawer, her lips twitching as she fought back a smirk. Mara certainly wasn't wrong, even if her preferred method for that hunger was on the energy alone. It was a rarity that she found a human worth crawling into bed with, but it did happen on occasion.
"Should I go with a pair of skinny jeans? It'll make them work for it, and give me enough time to do what I'm actually there to do." Mara nodded absently.
"Might as well. Though I'd still go with a very.. Slutty top. Just keep your coat unzipped and wear some ankle boots. It'll be fine." Nodding her head as she pulled out a pair of panties and the skinny jeans, Delilah managed to struggle into them with a grunt.
"Fuckin'.. Hell! How do human women do these when they get out of the shower?" Hopping around as she finally got them fitted and buttoned, she glared at her reflection in the mirror. "Seriously! And these bras! They do the job and all, but sometimes I get sick of wearing such tight ones. Why can't they make ones that are comfortable and sexy?"
Mara rolled her eyes, watching the whining red head struggle into a red lace piece that nearly matched the shade of her hair. The piece was secured in place, a quick adjustment of her breasts before she was satisfied.
"At least you match your lingerie. I'd have to kick your ass if you started mismatching." Delilah gave an undignified snort of laughter, wiggling into a low cut black crop top. "That thing barely covers you. It's perfect." Grinning in the mirror, Delilah fixed the top, musing over it before she finally nodded. With a dipping neckline that stopped just before the middle of her bra, it displayed a moderately sized chest, and cut off just below it. A single jewel glinted in her navel as she spun around, running a hand through her damp hair to detangle it. A thin pair of slip on socks designed for heels went on, shoes flying around the room as she searched for a specific pair.
"Delilah! You almost clocked me in the head with the stilettos!"
"Then duck."
"Bitch."
"And don't you forget it. So, you think this works?"
"Yeah, yeah. Get yourself a coat and get going. I'm going home. I'm sure you'll tell me all about it when I see you next." Giving a mock salute as she waved a hand lazily in the air, Mara crinkled her fingers in a goodbye wave before simply slipping into a slight ripple in the air.
"Well, time to get this shit show on the road." Checking herself in the mirror one more time, Delilah debated whether or not to bother with makeup. Deciding against it, she gave her hair a final brush through, grabbed her coat, and tossed the necessities in a small purse.
A happy hum sounded as she left her house, not bothering to lock it as she stepped into snow, her heeled boots crunching into winter as she gazed around. Like hell she was taking the car, she rarely used it unless she was going grocery shopping. It was a long walk down the mountain and into the city, but she didn't intend to use that either. Thanking the sky profusely that she'd had a proper meal, of both kinds lately, she zipped up her coat and tucked her bag under her arm. With a grin as she gazed up at the night sky, Delilah focused on the images of the city. Sifting through them in her mind, she focused on the closest place to where she knew the dealer would be going.
"There we go!" Her eyes snapped open from their half daze, and she slipped through the slight ripple in the air before her heels hit concrete. Cursing as she nearly fell on her ass, she steadied herself against the wall before fixing her coat. "Alright, let's find this bastard." Tucking her hands into her pockets and cursing as the snow gusted around her, she made her way down the street with the confidence of a woman who'd worn heels in every season.
"Now, where is this place supposed to be?" Pulling her phone out of her purse, she scrolled slowly through the pages she had kept pulled up. Blue eyes scanned them as she nearly ran into someone, throwing up a middle finger as they snapped profanities at her. Like hell she cared what a mortal thought.
"Which way is that?" Groaning loudly as she turned on the location, she snapped her fingers in victory as she spotted the side road she needed to venture to just outside of the city. The chatter began to fade off, the lights dimming down as she walked the quiet streets. There was the dull sound of panting in the distance, no doubt prostitutes luring in their victims. Needles poked out of garbage that littered the streets, worn down and condemned buildings boarded up as she passed. The filth was almost enough to make her cringe, if not for the fact she couldn't catch human diseases. It didn't make being poked by a needle anymore enjoyable, but it kept her safe from her health failing. Kicking away a bulging bag of garbage, she trekked through the light snow towards the large building she sought.
Light seeped out of the windows on the sides, a single car parked off on the dark treeline in an attempt to hide itself. A pathetic attempt, the half broken streetlight across the way shining on it. A smirk plastered across her face, Delilah sauntered toward the large warehouse as she began to whistle a tune loudly. The door creaked open, a head of light hair sticking out as a slew of foreign curses sounded. The moment the man laid eyes on her he paused, eyes hungrily looking her over from head to toe.
"Yo, baby, what you doin' out in this weather?" She let out a low laugh, unzipping the top of her coat to reveal the less than modest top. "Oh shit, you one of those girls, ay baby?" Giving him a wide smile as she placed a hand on her hip, she took a step towards him.
"I am if you got the cash for me, honey." His eyes were devouring her endlessly, a hand patting his pocket before he grinned from ear to ear.
"I'm supposed to be meeting people here, so I really shouldn't, but damn you are smokin'. Hell, they might want to take a whack at you too." Delilah nearly rolled her eyes, the smile still painted on her face as she crossed the distance to the warehouse door.
"Long as y'all got the cash, I got the time." Revolting. Filthy humans and their less than elegant courting customs. If one could even call it that anymore. More like a fuck and duck out, which was fine with her. It was the crude comments that nearly made her nauseous, the bastards thinking they were smooth. They all sounded like idiots, even as they thought they were hot shit all the women wanted.
"Come in baby, it's cold outside." It was cold outside, and she shivered as she stepped inside and he shut the door. "Goddamn, lady. What's your name?" She smiled at him, running a finger slowly down his chest.
"I'm Anna, what's your name, handsome?"
"John. So, uh, I just give you the money and we do this, 'ight?"
Oh, you're going to be John Doe by the time I'm done with you..
Delilah nodded her head, watching as he dug out his wallet and handed her several bills. Oh, he had given her a decent amount of money, not even questioned what her supposed rate was. It was a beautiful thing, she was at least making some quick cash out of it as she pocketed it. Walking him backwards until he was against the wall, her hands worked at the waistband of his jeans as she let out a low laugh. With how eagerly his hands were moving over her, it was going to be far too easy to get the job done. The button on her own jeans snapped open, a hand sliding down them even as her stomach turned in disgust.
Filthy.
"You are just an impatient man." Listening to the fabric of his jeans tear, she pressed against his chest and drug her tongue over his neck. Teeth scraped as she tried to block out the insistent hand in her pants, the sound of his heartbeat and the smell of blood nearly making her mouth water.
Time's up, fucker.
"Can you really blame me for killing him? He was a well known sex trafficker. And besides, he enjoyed himself before he died, even if he didn't actually get laid."
"Delilah, you literally live on sexual energy."
"Yes, but I don't force myself on others."
The red head woman sprawled out on the bed made a noise of disgust, shaking her head before poking at Delilah. A hand swatted at the offensive gesture, fingers wiping the remainder of black makeup from under blue eyes.
"Knock that off, Mara! I don't know why you get so grossed out about blood. You act like you've never clawed anyone open!"
"Well duh, during sex!" Delilah turned to glare at her before turning back to the mirror, tugging off her bloodied shirt and tossing it towards the adjoined bathroom. "You tear out throats, darling. Don't you think it's a little much? I mean seriously, who cares what happens to the humans here? They're just free meals."
"I care, because I live here. Besides, it's fun to see them bitching about me on the news, thinking it's a man doing all the killing." Mara gave her another noise of disgust, rolling off the bed and nimbly springing to her feet.
"I don't even know why I'm still here. I should just go home, away from this filth. I haven't hunted in awhile, and my bow is getting lonely."
"You and that damn primitive weapon. I much prefer the weapons of this realm." Opening up the top drawer of her dresser, she pulled out a gleaming silver dagger. "This beauty can slit throats in one swipe." Slamming it down into the dresser as the other woman jumped, she watched the wood splinter as it lodged firmly in the dresser.
"Jesus, Del!"
"Careful now, lest the angels hear you. You know they don't like that."
"Jesus goddamn fucking Christ! Go ahead, strike me down, I dare you!" Turning around and leaning on the dresser, Delilah let out a delighted laugh.
"Oh, I knew I adored you for a reason. Now, are you going to go home like you're threatening, or stick around and help me pick out an outfit?" Huffing, the other red head flopped back down on the bed and threw up a middle finger.
"Go wash up, you filthy maniac. I'll stick around, otherwise you'll end up dressing like this." Motioning to her own jeans and a T-shirt, she listened to Delilah's laughter as the rest of her clothes were flung away. The bathroom door clicked shut behind her, the sound of running water filling the room immediately.
"I was hoping to save those clothes." Pouting at the bloodied clothes she'd left just inside the bathroom door, Delilah stepped into the shower with a heavy sigh. The amount of clothes she'd ruined just for her meals was absurd, her wardrobe constantly replenished for outfits to entice her newest prey.
"Don't take an hour in there, though, or I'll fucking leave!" She rolled her eyes as she stepped under the water, mimicking her friend silently. For as much as the other demoness complained, she was always at her side the second Delilah needed her. It was one of the reasons she actually cared for her, unlike the other demons she couldn't possibly care less about. After all, survival was independently made in their realm. Love was a rarity, even with the mated couples.
"Stop being such a whiny bitch!" Shouting out from behind the closed door, Delilah worked her fingers through her bloody hair. "Bastard got my hair caked." Groaning to herself as she lathered up the shampoo, she worked it carefully through the tangled locks. She'd thought about cutting them several times, but men seemed to like hair that just brushed the top of women's breasts. Taking her time to untangle the matted locks, she hummed softly to herself before turning her attention to her blood splattered skin. She was usually more careful, but had nearly gotten caught and was forced to tear open a small portal to escape. While it was nowhere near impossible, it was a pain in the ass to rip open reality itself and disappear without a trace on such short notice.
"Are you almost done in there?!" She jumped at the sound of Mara's voice, rolling her eyes as she rinsed the remainder of the soap from her skin. The last of the red swirled down the drain, the water running clear as she finally shut it off. "Thank fuck, I thought I was going to have to drag your perky little ass out of there!" The bathroom door slammed open, Delilah standing there with an irritated expression on her face.
"Seriously, do you ever stop whining?! Did you want me to come out still bloody so you could whine about that too? Fuckin' hell, woman!" Snatching a towel off the bar on the wall, she wrapped it around herself before grabbing another to rub at her hair.
"Stop bitching or I'll tear open a portal and toss you home myself!" Padding into the bedroom still rubbing at her hair, she stuck her tongue out at Mara before yanking open dresser drawers. "Now what the hell do I wear? It's cold out."
"You'll be plenty warm when you're riding that blood and sex high."
"Sexual energy, you idiot. I'm not fucking some druggie asshole. They always suck, anyway, and not in the good way." Mara burst out laughing, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the towel clad woman.
"I love you too, Del. Still, nothing beats the old days, huh? I wish I had been alive to see you then." Rolling her eyes, Delilah finished with her hair and tossed the wet towel at the other demoness. A shriek sounded, the pillow flying back even as Delilah saw it in the mirror and ducked.
"You suck at that. The only good sucking you do is probably a dick."
"Says the succubus."
"Fuck off." Tossing the towel around her body at the bed, she listened to the repetitive shrieking as she continued to sift through the drawers. "Now, help me pick a damn outfit. It's already going to be a pain to walk in heels, so I'm not sure I can manage a dress. But damn does that pull people in."
"Oh, I'm sure it pulls them into something.." Her hand paused on the drawer, her lips twitching as she fought back a smirk. Mara certainly wasn't wrong, even if her preferred method for that hunger was on the energy alone. It was a rarity that she found a human worth crawling into bed with, but it did happen on occasion.
"Should I go with a pair of skinny jeans? It'll make them work for it, and give me enough time to do what I'm actually there to do." Mara nodded absently.
"Might as well. Though I'd still go with a very.. Slutty top. Just keep your coat unzipped and wear some ankle boots. It'll be fine." Nodding her head as she pulled out a pair of panties and the skinny jeans, Delilah managed to struggle into them with a grunt.
"Fuckin'.. Hell! How do human women do these when they get out of the shower?" Hopping around as she finally got them fitted and buttoned, she glared at her reflection in the mirror. "Seriously! And these bras! They do the job and all, but sometimes I get sick of wearing such tight ones. Why can't they make ones that are comfortable and sexy?"
Mara rolled her eyes, watching the whining red head struggle into a red lace piece that nearly matched the shade of her hair. The piece was secured in place, a quick adjustment of her breasts before she was satisfied.
"At least you match your lingerie. I'd have to kick your ass if you started mismatching." Delilah gave an undignified snort of laughter, wiggling into a low cut black crop top. "That thing barely covers you. It's perfect." Grinning in the mirror, Delilah fixed the top, musing over it before she finally nodded. With a dipping neckline that stopped just before the middle of her bra, it displayed a moderately sized chest, and cut off just below it. A single jewel glinted in her navel as she spun around, running a hand through her damp hair to detangle it. A thin pair of slip on socks designed for heels went on, shoes flying around the room as she searched for a specific pair.
"Delilah! You almost clocked me in the head with the stilettos!"
"Then duck."
"Bitch."
"And don't you forget it. So, you think this works?"
"Yeah, yeah. Get yourself a coat and get going. I'm going home. I'm sure you'll tell me all about it when I see you next." Giving a mock salute as she waved a hand lazily in the air, Mara crinkled her fingers in a goodbye wave before simply slipping into a slight ripple in the air.
"Well, time to get this shit show on the road." Checking herself in the mirror one more time, Delilah debated whether or not to bother with makeup. Deciding against it, she gave her hair a final brush through, grabbed her coat, and tossed the necessities in a small purse.
A happy hum sounded as she left her house, not bothering to lock it as she stepped into snow, her heeled boots crunching into winter as she gazed around. Like hell she was taking the car, she rarely used it unless she was going grocery shopping. It was a long walk down the mountain and into the city, but she didn't intend to use that either. Thanking the sky profusely that she'd had a proper meal, of both kinds lately, she zipped up her coat and tucked her bag under her arm. With a grin as she gazed up at the night sky, Delilah focused on the images of the city. Sifting through them in her mind, she focused on the closest place to where she knew the dealer would be going.
"There we go!" Her eyes snapped open from their half daze, and she slipped through the slight ripple in the air before her heels hit concrete. Cursing as she nearly fell on her ass, she steadied herself against the wall before fixing her coat. "Alright, let's find this bastard." Tucking her hands into her pockets and cursing as the snow gusted around her, she made her way down the street with the confidence of a woman who'd worn heels in every season.
"Now, where is this place supposed to be?" Pulling her phone out of her purse, she scrolled slowly through the pages she had kept pulled up. Blue eyes scanned them as she nearly ran into someone, throwing up a middle finger as they snapped profanities at her. Like hell she cared what a mortal thought.
"Which way is that?" Groaning loudly as she turned on the location, she snapped her fingers in victory as she spotted the side road she needed to venture to just outside of the city. The chatter began to fade off, the lights dimming down as she walked the quiet streets. There was the dull sound of panting in the distance, no doubt prostitutes luring in their victims. Needles poked out of garbage that littered the streets, worn down and condemned buildings boarded up as she passed. The filth was almost enough to make her cringe, if not for the fact she couldn't catch human diseases. It didn't make being poked by a needle anymore enjoyable, but it kept her safe from her health failing. Kicking away a bulging bag of garbage, she trekked through the light snow towards the large building she sought.
Light seeped out of the windows on the sides, a single car parked off on the dark treeline in an attempt to hide itself. A pathetic attempt, the half broken streetlight across the way shining on it. A smirk plastered across her face, Delilah sauntered toward the large warehouse as she began to whistle a tune loudly. The door creaked open, a head of light hair sticking out as a slew of foreign curses sounded. The moment the man laid eyes on her he paused, eyes hungrily looking her over from head to toe.
"Yo, baby, what you doin' out in this weather?" She let out a low laugh, unzipping the top of her coat to reveal the less than modest top. "Oh shit, you one of those girls, ay baby?" Giving him a wide smile as she placed a hand on her hip, she took a step towards him.
"I am if you got the cash for me, honey." His eyes were devouring her endlessly, a hand patting his pocket before he grinned from ear to ear.
"I'm supposed to be meeting people here, so I really shouldn't, but damn you are smokin'. Hell, they might want to take a whack at you too." Delilah nearly rolled her eyes, the smile still painted on her face as she crossed the distance to the warehouse door.
"Long as y'all got the cash, I got the time." Revolting. Filthy humans and their less than elegant courting customs. If one could even call it that anymore. More like a fuck and duck out, which was fine with her. It was the crude comments that nearly made her nauseous, the bastards thinking they were smooth. They all sounded like idiots, even as they thought they were hot shit all the women wanted.
"Come in baby, it's cold outside." It was cold outside, and she shivered as she stepped inside and he shut the door. "Goddamn, lady. What's your name?" She smiled at him, running a finger slowly down his chest.
"I'm Anna, what's your name, handsome?"
"John. So, uh, I just give you the money and we do this, 'ight?"
Oh, you're going to be John Doe by the time I'm done with you..
Delilah nodded her head, watching as he dug out his wallet and handed her several bills. Oh, he had given her a decent amount of money, not even questioned what her supposed rate was. It was a beautiful thing, she was at least making some quick cash out of it as she pocketed it. Walking him backwards until he was against the wall, her hands worked at the waistband of his jeans as she let out a low laugh. With how eagerly his hands were moving over her, it was going to be far too easy to get the job done. The button on her own jeans snapped open, a hand sliding down them even as her stomach turned in disgust.
Filthy.
"You are just an impatient man." Listening to the fabric of his jeans tear, she pressed against his chest and drug her tongue over his neck. Teeth scraped as she tried to block out the insistent hand in her pants, the sound of his heartbeat and the smell of blood nearly making her mouth water.
Time's up, fucker.
Azariah
"We're never going to be able to adopt her out."
"What if we drop the price down and use the excuse of trying to home the ones that have been here longer? She's at least pretty.. When she's not trying to rip your face off. Thank god for that collar, I heard what she did to the men that brought her in when they first caught her."
"Who's in charge of feeding her today, anyway?"
"Dave, the poor bastard. He's still afraid of her after the last time he went near and she dug her claws into his sleeve. Keeps himself several inches away from the cells now, even from the docile ones that have a better area. Her? Nah, the bitch can stay in that little cell until someone takes pity on her. Fuck if I care."
"Talking about Azariah?" One of the men walking past the break room paused and backtracked before sticking his head into the room. "She get someone again?"
"She'll get Dave if he's not careful, but I wouldn't put it past him to come up with some excuse to go home sick before it's time to feed her. Hell, she got John to quit last week when she tore his leg open through the fuckin' bars!" The room was filled with a mixture of laughter and horror at the thought of having to be the one to tend to the Lycan in any manner. She had gotten quite a reputation since first arriving at the shelter some many months ago, and between her initial introduction that had left them bleaching an entire floor to clean up the blood, her multiple escapes; both successful and not, and her treatment of the workers now. The creature simply refused to be tamed, and as such was currently a filthy mess of tangled hair and sharp teeth.
As luck would have it, for the men discussing the Lycan, Dave did not leave early, and stood shaking in his boots as he stared down the side hall that housed the Lycans that had yet to be tamed enough they'd moved into the larger, nicer cells closer to the front of the facility. Everything had to be kept immaculate, after all, and so the less well behaved creatures were kept more toward the back where less people tended to wander. Every once in awhile someone came trekking back to see what the fuss was all about, how wild the wolves truly were to be kept away from the first hall that displayed the ones eagerly awaiting adoption. Grinning, panting, they'd have been waving their tails if not for the collars kept around their necks!
"Buy you a beer tonight if you get her fed without a problem."
"Oh, shut the hell up, I'm just going to open the slat long enough to shove the tray through and then leave. She's not going to get me again, I ain't opening the big door like an idiot. I can't believe no one told me about that last time!" The man made his way slowly down the hall, clearly cautious and still a bit unsettled from his last encounter with the female wolf. While the silver collar around her neck did stop her from shifting into her lupine form, it didn't stop her nails from turning into claws, and it didn't stop her sharp teeth from being able to tear flesh.
"Believe it when I see it." Three workers stood down the hall from where Dave was approaching one of the cells, two middle aged men and one of the females that had just recently started training to deal with the ferals. They watched in silence, holding their breaths in anticipation as he approached the cell and looked inside.
The woman inside appeared to be sleeping, half sprawled on the cot inside and half on the floor midst a tangled mane of hair. Her eyes were closed, an arm draped over them as she dozed lightly despite all of the noise surrounding her. She'd been at the facility long enough to learn to tune out noise, but when Dave approached her cell directly one of her pointed ears twitched, and as soon as she heard the slat open she rolled off the cot and to her feet.
"Oh, shit." She couldn't have possibly cared less about the food now that he was there. For all of the whining he did about being injured by her, he'd left out the part where he'd banged loudly on her cage to wake her, where he'd kicked at the bars when she got close enough to reach. No, it was all about the blood she'd drawn and how terrified he was of her. Good, the bastard deserved it, and he definitely deserved this.
"Shit, Brian, get her off!" He had made the mistake of getting too close to the bars, and the consequence was her latching onto his arm, digging her nails deep into the flesh as her teeth snapped at him. "Brian! Get over here and do something! Tranq the bitch, I don't care, just get her off before she tears my fuckin' arm off!" She'd tear his throat out if she had her way, her teeth snapping as she tried to force him flush against the bars so that she could sink those sharp fangs into him.
"Tranq? Just get the goddamn gun, put her down! I don't care if there's people here, deal with that later. If you don't shoot her she's gonna try to tear out his throat. She hates him." Damn straight she'd try to tear out his throat. She already had her claws latched onto one of his arms and had tugged him back against the metal bars, her other hand sinking into the opposite shoulder to place him as a barrier before her and the men approaching with their guns drawn.
"Don't shoot her, boss'll have your hide if you do that without his permission."
"Sorry, Dave, this is gonna hurt. Beth, get the medics on the radio and let them they're gonna need to stitch him up and probably do a transfusion."
Azariah snarled as she felt the man leave her clutches, leaving her hands soaked in his blood as it dripped down the bars to the cell and joined the large puddle already on the floor. She had been so close to finally tearing out his throat, so close to making sure he never came near her again or taunted her, and they'd stolen him from her!
"Get him to the medics, and for fuck's sake, someone get the boss here so we can get the okay to put her down already!" They left her alone in the cell licking the blood from her claws, well, they were fingers now, and staring at the mess dripping down the hall as they drug off the heavily bleeding man.
"Ah, hell, don't let the customers see him—Shit, just get him out of here as fast as you can so we can get this mess cleaned up.. Fucking hell."
"What if we drop the price down and use the excuse of trying to home the ones that have been here longer? She's at least pretty.. When she's not trying to rip your face off. Thank god for that collar, I heard what she did to the men that brought her in when they first caught her."
"Who's in charge of feeding her today, anyway?"
"Dave, the poor bastard. He's still afraid of her after the last time he went near and she dug her claws into his sleeve. Keeps himself several inches away from the cells now, even from the docile ones that have a better area. Her? Nah, the bitch can stay in that little cell until someone takes pity on her. Fuck if I care."
"Talking about Azariah?" One of the men walking past the break room paused and backtracked before sticking his head into the room. "She get someone again?"
"She'll get Dave if he's not careful, but I wouldn't put it past him to come up with some excuse to go home sick before it's time to feed her. Hell, she got John to quit last week when she tore his leg open through the fuckin' bars!" The room was filled with a mixture of laughter and horror at the thought of having to be the one to tend to the Lycan in any manner. She had gotten quite a reputation since first arriving at the shelter some many months ago, and between her initial introduction that had left them bleaching an entire floor to clean up the blood, her multiple escapes; both successful and not, and her treatment of the workers now. The creature simply refused to be tamed, and as such was currently a filthy mess of tangled hair and sharp teeth.
As luck would have it, for the men discussing the Lycan, Dave did not leave early, and stood shaking in his boots as he stared down the side hall that housed the Lycans that had yet to be tamed enough they'd moved into the larger, nicer cells closer to the front of the facility. Everything had to be kept immaculate, after all, and so the less well behaved creatures were kept more toward the back where less people tended to wander. Every once in awhile someone came trekking back to see what the fuss was all about, how wild the wolves truly were to be kept away from the first hall that displayed the ones eagerly awaiting adoption. Grinning, panting, they'd have been waving their tails if not for the collars kept around their necks!
"Buy you a beer tonight if you get her fed without a problem."
"Oh, shut the hell up, I'm just going to open the slat long enough to shove the tray through and then leave. She's not going to get me again, I ain't opening the big door like an idiot. I can't believe no one told me about that last time!" The man made his way slowly down the hall, clearly cautious and still a bit unsettled from his last encounter with the female wolf. While the silver collar around her neck did stop her from shifting into her lupine form, it didn't stop her nails from turning into claws, and it didn't stop her sharp teeth from being able to tear flesh.
"Believe it when I see it." Three workers stood down the hall from where Dave was approaching one of the cells, two middle aged men and one of the females that had just recently started training to deal with the ferals. They watched in silence, holding their breaths in anticipation as he approached the cell and looked inside.
The woman inside appeared to be sleeping, half sprawled on the cot inside and half on the floor midst a tangled mane of hair. Her eyes were closed, an arm draped over them as she dozed lightly despite all of the noise surrounding her. She'd been at the facility long enough to learn to tune out noise, but when Dave approached her cell directly one of her pointed ears twitched, and as soon as she heard the slat open she rolled off the cot and to her feet.
"Oh, shit." She couldn't have possibly cared less about the food now that he was there. For all of the whining he did about being injured by her, he'd left out the part where he'd banged loudly on her cage to wake her, where he'd kicked at the bars when she got close enough to reach. No, it was all about the blood she'd drawn and how terrified he was of her. Good, the bastard deserved it, and he definitely deserved this.
"Shit, Brian, get her off!" He had made the mistake of getting too close to the bars, and the consequence was her latching onto his arm, digging her nails deep into the flesh as her teeth snapped at him. "Brian! Get over here and do something! Tranq the bitch, I don't care, just get her off before she tears my fuckin' arm off!" She'd tear his throat out if she had her way, her teeth snapping as she tried to force him flush against the bars so that she could sink those sharp fangs into him.
"Tranq? Just get the goddamn gun, put her down! I don't care if there's people here, deal with that later. If you don't shoot her she's gonna try to tear out his throat. She hates him." Damn straight she'd try to tear out his throat. She already had her claws latched onto one of his arms and had tugged him back against the metal bars, her other hand sinking into the opposite shoulder to place him as a barrier before her and the men approaching with their guns drawn.
"Don't shoot her, boss'll have your hide if you do that without his permission."
"Sorry, Dave, this is gonna hurt. Beth, get the medics on the radio and let them they're gonna need to stitch him up and probably do a transfusion."
Azariah snarled as she felt the man leave her clutches, leaving her hands soaked in his blood as it dripped down the bars to the cell and joined the large puddle already on the floor. She had been so close to finally tearing out his throat, so close to making sure he never came near her again or taunted her, and they'd stolen him from her!
"Get him to the medics, and for fuck's sake, someone get the boss here so we can get the okay to put her down already!" They left her alone in the cell licking the blood from her claws, well, they were fingers now, and staring at the mess dripping down the hall as they drug off the heavily bleeding man.
"Ah, hell, don't let the customers see him—Shit, just get him out of here as fast as you can so we can get this mess cleaned up.. Fucking hell."
Fate is a Fickle Thing
"I'm tired of measuring. My eyes sees more than they should, faces haunting me even in my dreams. The future is a cursed thing to see."
Name: Lachesis (/ˈlækɪsɪs/, Greek Λάχεσις, [lákʰesis], "allotter" or drawer of lots) measured the thread of life allotted to each person with her measuring rod. Her Roman equivalent was Decima ("the Tenth").
Species: Moirai (one of the Greek Fates)
Age: Unknown
Time Period: Modern day
Location: A made up place because I'm lazy in this aspect and dislike having to follow the rules of real places.
Smut level: Low
Violence level: Dependent
Fluff level: Dependent
Plot: As one of the three Moirai, or Fates from Greek mythology, the burden of seeing how long until someone dies is becoming too much. After millennia of being able to simply look at someone and know how long their lifespan is, she grows tired of staying at her sisters' side, watching one create life while the other takes it in ways that are sometimes so abhorrent she can't stand to watch. Being on Earth isn't much better than above, but there she can escape from her sisters and the other gods, keeping herself secluded from society in an attempt to live in peace. The nightmares are never ending, faces haunting her dreams and her minor interactions leaving her wanting to pluck her own eyes out.
It's a pretty vague plot because it just popped into my head, so there's plenty of options for a character opposite of her. It could be someone that she runs into repeatedly when she goes into town, it could be someone she meets at a bar on a particularly bad night where she goes into one. Maybe she's grown fond of someone she sees on her trips (book store, library, something of the like) and when she sees their lifespan she decides it's worth spending some time with them to ease her loneliness. After all, if someone's life span isn't particularly long, you don't have to worry about getting too close.
I am open to other ideas, however, if you can catch my attention with a different plot you think would fit the character!
Name: Lachesis (/ˈlækɪsɪs/, Greek Λάχεσις, [lákʰesis], "allotter" or drawer of lots) measured the thread of life allotted to each person with her measuring rod. Her Roman equivalent was Decima ("the Tenth").
Species: Moirai (one of the Greek Fates)
Age: Unknown
Time Period: Modern day
Location: A made up place because I'm lazy in this aspect and dislike having to follow the rules of real places.
Smut level: Low
Violence level: Dependent
Fluff level: Dependent
Plot: As one of the three Moirai, or Fates from Greek mythology, the burden of seeing how long until someone dies is becoming too much. After millennia of being able to simply look at someone and know how long their lifespan is, she grows tired of staying at her sisters' side, watching one create life while the other takes it in ways that are sometimes so abhorrent she can't stand to watch. Being on Earth isn't much better than above, but there she can escape from her sisters and the other gods, keeping herself secluded from society in an attempt to live in peace. The nightmares are never ending, faces haunting her dreams and her minor interactions leaving her wanting to pluck her own eyes out.
It's a pretty vague plot because it just popped into my head, so there's plenty of options for a character opposite of her. It could be someone that she runs into repeatedly when she goes into town, it could be someone she meets at a bar on a particularly bad night where she goes into one. Maybe she's grown fond of someone she sees on her trips (book store, library, something of the like) and when she sees their lifespan she decides it's worth spending some time with them to ease her loneliness. After all, if someone's life span isn't particularly long, you don't have to worry about getting too close.
I am open to other ideas, however, if you can catch my attention with a different plot you think would fit the character!
Morrigan
Morrigan's twenty first birthday had crept up much faster than she'd wanted. With each passing day it grew closer to the summoning, to gaining her first familiar that would help her through life. It was almost a nauseating thought. Every witch had her own familiar, and she had watched the interaction between them with interest. Some of the pairings worked rather well, years passing without a problem. Others worked less than civilly, the witch barely able to contain her bond with the familiar. Forcing them into submission as not to upset their tentative relationship.
None of that eased the anxiety she felt for what she was to undertake today. Would it be a ghoul, or a demon? Would they be nothing but a mindless brute, or would they possess some intelligence? Living side by side with a mindless husk of a creature was not an enticing thought, promises of awkward silence and time spent as far from them as she could. Would they listen to her, obey her, or would they rebel and send her into a frenzy of panic?
As the hour grew near, she had dressed herself with shaky hands, opting for casual clothes despite the protests of many. There was nothing they could do, not with her parents long gone and her guardian all but useless. Now that she was past the age of adulthood, she made her own decisions, aside from the summoning. Refusing to accept a familiar would have made her an outcast to her own people, kept her in the world without allies. She was accustomed to living on her own, she'd held a job for a few years now, even owned a small home. The thought of losing her allies and having no backup plan if that fell through, it nearly made her panic. Their threats to cast her out had not been empty, their patience thin after nearly three years of refusal. Most witches gained their familiars by eighteen, but she'd vehemently refused and drawn it out as long as possible.
"Mor." A soft voice came from the doorway as she pulled on her sweater. The gray color made her green eyes pop and her red hair stand out against the bland color, which suited her just fine. She had never been flashy with her outfits, never cared for the attention like the other girls. She was perfectly content to linger in the back, far away from the spotlight. "Morrigan." Her head snapped to the side as she fixed her jeans, focusing on the blonde woman standing there. "Ya ready for this?"
Morrigan let out a forced laugh, shaking her head as she patted down the waves of bright hair. "You know I'm not. If they wouldn't cast me out for refusing it, I wouldn't be doing this. But since I have to, I might as well just get it over and done with. Why, are they out there complaining I haven't come out yet? Did they send you in to check on me?" Her friend gave her a sympathetic look, a bit of guilt in her dark eyes.
"Yeah, sorry. Better me than someone else though, right?" Morrigan barely acknowledged her words as she stared in the mirror and frowned. The woman that looked back at her was anything but pleased, exhaustion etched through her features as she took a step back.
"Yeah, let's get this shit show on the road. I just hope I don't get a mindless brute that's going to be hard to control." She'd seen plenty of those and watched as the other woman snorted with laughter before tugging her from the room. "I'm so not ready for this." Mumbling under her breath, Morrigan nearly balked as she took her first step outside, and then another, and another. The hushed whispers only served to aggravate her anxiety and anger more, but she forced herself across the field. There were so many of them, several dressed in cloaks as though they were living in centuries past.
"Morrigan." Her head turned at the sound of a woman's voice, her lips curling back in disgust. The woman was dressed as though she'd just stepped out of a witch movie, her black dress clinging to every curve. Her black hair was curled to perfection, painted lips red and twisted into a less than genuine smile. "I can't wait to see what you summon, what kind of creature we'll be having around."
"Annabelle." She nodded stiffly at her former guardian. She was surprised Annabelle wasn't sporting a broom and a nose with a wart, with the way she ran through life stabbing people in the back. "You'll not be having anything around, I will." There were more hushed whispers, and she turned away from the prying eyes.
"Fuck this." Ignoring the other witches around her, she prepared her circle and focused on calling forth the magic. It was only a small hum at first, the smell of the earth surrounding her as she intently focused on her task. "Well, time to see what I get." Please don't be an unruly one, please don't be a scary one.
None of that eased the anxiety she felt for what she was to undertake today. Would it be a ghoul, or a demon? Would they be nothing but a mindless brute, or would they possess some intelligence? Living side by side with a mindless husk of a creature was not an enticing thought, promises of awkward silence and time spent as far from them as she could. Would they listen to her, obey her, or would they rebel and send her into a frenzy of panic?
As the hour grew near, she had dressed herself with shaky hands, opting for casual clothes despite the protests of many. There was nothing they could do, not with her parents long gone and her guardian all but useless. Now that she was past the age of adulthood, she made her own decisions, aside from the summoning. Refusing to accept a familiar would have made her an outcast to her own people, kept her in the world without allies. She was accustomed to living on her own, she'd held a job for a few years now, even owned a small home. The thought of losing her allies and having no backup plan if that fell through, it nearly made her panic. Their threats to cast her out had not been empty, their patience thin after nearly three years of refusal. Most witches gained their familiars by eighteen, but she'd vehemently refused and drawn it out as long as possible.
"Mor." A soft voice came from the doorway as she pulled on her sweater. The gray color made her green eyes pop and her red hair stand out against the bland color, which suited her just fine. She had never been flashy with her outfits, never cared for the attention like the other girls. She was perfectly content to linger in the back, far away from the spotlight. "Morrigan." Her head snapped to the side as she fixed her jeans, focusing on the blonde woman standing there. "Ya ready for this?"
Morrigan let out a forced laugh, shaking her head as she patted down the waves of bright hair. "You know I'm not. If they wouldn't cast me out for refusing it, I wouldn't be doing this. But since I have to, I might as well just get it over and done with. Why, are they out there complaining I haven't come out yet? Did they send you in to check on me?" Her friend gave her a sympathetic look, a bit of guilt in her dark eyes.
"Yeah, sorry. Better me than someone else though, right?" Morrigan barely acknowledged her words as she stared in the mirror and frowned. The woman that looked back at her was anything but pleased, exhaustion etched through her features as she took a step back.
"Yeah, let's get this shit show on the road. I just hope I don't get a mindless brute that's going to be hard to control." She'd seen plenty of those and watched as the other woman snorted with laughter before tugging her from the room. "I'm so not ready for this." Mumbling under her breath, Morrigan nearly balked as she took her first step outside, and then another, and another. The hushed whispers only served to aggravate her anxiety and anger more, but she forced herself across the field. There were so many of them, several dressed in cloaks as though they were living in centuries past.
"Morrigan." Her head turned at the sound of a woman's voice, her lips curling back in disgust. The woman was dressed as though she'd just stepped out of a witch movie, her black dress clinging to every curve. Her black hair was curled to perfection, painted lips red and twisted into a less than genuine smile. "I can't wait to see what you summon, what kind of creature we'll be having around."
"Annabelle." She nodded stiffly at her former guardian. She was surprised Annabelle wasn't sporting a broom and a nose with a wart, with the way she ran through life stabbing people in the back. "You'll not be having anything around, I will." There were more hushed whispers, and she turned away from the prying eyes.
"Fuck this." Ignoring the other witches around her, she prepared her circle and focused on calling forth the magic. It was only a small hum at first, the smell of the earth surrounding her as she intently focused on her task. "Well, time to see what I get." Please don't be an unruly one, please don't be a scary one.
Starved
Picture open to change.
"And just what makes you think I could ever trust a man that owns me like an object, keeps me starved and unable to return home?"
Disclaimer: This is not in any way a non-con theme.
Species: Demon
Age: Undecided; appears mid to late twenties
Traits: Fangs, claws, and the need for blood similar to a vampire.
Lack of blood leads to loss of strength and less enhanced senses, causes slower healing time for any injuries.
Origin: Demon realm
Fluff level: Build up to high
Smut level: Low
Violence level: Likely higher at the beginning
Plot: Looking for a somewhat damsel in distress theme here. A mixture of fear, yet fight. None of that cowering in a corner, crying every second, but also not fighting (literally) tooth and nail constantly. I'd like a balance, as it's more realistic for a plot of this nature. Now, I haven't played this in a bit but gotten the itch again, so it's relatively open as to how it gets played. The intent is to build up trust throughout the story. To start with complete distrust from my demoness' part, and eventually lead to fluff as the trust builds up. Somewhat cliche? Yes. But I love the idea of going from snarling and snapping with hate, to learning to trust as feelings develop. So give me those good guys, even if they're moody and broody with the secret soft side that makes them good.
A.) Demons are known of in the human realm, as they like to visit, and are often captured and sold off as property. Pets, slaves, what have you. Starved just enough to keep them from returning home to their own realm, or if you prefer to add an element of magic, collared or charmed to prevent the use of portals.
B.) Captured on a visit to the human realm and imprisoned. Whether passed down from a relative through death, or given as a gift by friend or relative. If passed down after a death, the captivity period would obviously have been longer, and would create more distrust of humans.
"And just what makes you think I could ever trust a man that owns me like an object, keeps me starved and unable to return home?"
Disclaimer: This is not in any way a non-con theme.
Species: Demon
Age: Undecided; appears mid to late twenties
Traits: Fangs, claws, and the need for blood similar to a vampire.
Lack of blood leads to loss of strength and less enhanced senses, causes slower healing time for any injuries.
Origin: Demon realm
Fluff level: Build up to high
Smut level: Low
Violence level: Likely higher at the beginning
Plot: Looking for a somewhat damsel in distress theme here. A mixture of fear, yet fight. None of that cowering in a corner, crying every second, but also not fighting (literally) tooth and nail constantly. I'd like a balance, as it's more realistic for a plot of this nature. Now, I haven't played this in a bit but gotten the itch again, so it's relatively open as to how it gets played. The intent is to build up trust throughout the story. To start with complete distrust from my demoness' part, and eventually lead to fluff as the trust builds up. Somewhat cliche? Yes. But I love the idea of going from snarling and snapping with hate, to learning to trust as feelings develop. So give me those good guys, even if they're moody and broody with the secret soft side that makes them good.
A.) Demons are known of in the human realm, as they like to visit, and are often captured and sold off as property. Pets, slaves, what have you. Starved just enough to keep them from returning home to their own realm, or if you prefer to add an element of magic, collared or charmed to prevent the use of portals.
B.) Captured on a visit to the human realm and imprisoned. Whether passed down from a relative through death, or given as a gift by friend or relative. If passed down after a death, the captivity period would obviously have been longer, and would create more distrust of humans.
Turn Me to Stone
"I didn't particularly want to turn them to stone," She motioned towards the statues filling the garden. "But when one has a knife to your throat or a gun pointed at you, survival instinct kicks in." She shrugged. "I didn't want to die, so they had to." She paused. "Go ahead, pull the trigger. Take home my head as atrophy, as the stories of Perseus so blatantly lie about. But keep in mind, there is no turning back those which have turned to stone. Remember that, if you try to use my eyes."
What happens when almost all the stories of Medusa are untrue, when she was cursed to be a weapon of war instead? Cursed to kill all those she looked at, wandering battlefields and cities to destroy armies and win wars? Forced to be a bringer of death, for a chance to regain some semblance of her humanity?
Modern day: The gods have taken pity on her and allow her some control over her sight and serpentine form. She lives alone, far away from humans, knowing that in an overemotional or endangered state, she will lose control and turn those around her to stone. However, like with the lore of vampires, demons, and the like, there's always someone who will hunt down such a creature that might exist. No one expects Medusa to open her door looking as human as you or I, only for the snakes to come out at the first hint of true danger.
Potential for someone to play a hunter, or a character obsessed with creatures of lore just investigating her to see if anything is true. I would like this to end up with a good amount of fluff as the story progresses. Open to other ideas depending what you have in mind!
Name: Medusa
Race: Gorgon shifter
Age: Undetermined
Abilities: Fasterhealing to an extent. Shifting. Poison from her fangs.
Smut level: Low(Disclaimer: No freaky snake lady sex, sorry.)
Fluff level: Buildup
Violence level: Debatable; definitely higher for anyone wanting to play a hunter.
What happens when almost all the stories of Medusa are untrue, when she was cursed to be a weapon of war instead? Cursed to kill all those she looked at, wandering battlefields and cities to destroy armies and win wars? Forced to be a bringer of death, for a chance to regain some semblance of her humanity?
Modern day: The gods have taken pity on her and allow her some control over her sight and serpentine form. She lives alone, far away from humans, knowing that in an overemotional or endangered state, she will lose control and turn those around her to stone. However, like with the lore of vampires, demons, and the like, there's always someone who will hunt down such a creature that might exist. No one expects Medusa to open her door looking as human as you or I, only for the snakes to come out at the first hint of true danger.
Potential for someone to play a hunter, or a character obsessed with creatures of lore just investigating her to see if anything is true. I would like this to end up with a good amount of fluff as the story progresses. Open to other ideas depending what you have in mind!
Name: Medusa
Race: Gorgon shifter
Age: Undetermined
Abilities: Fasterhealing to an extent. Shifting. Poison from her fangs.
Smut level: Low(Disclaimer: No freaky snake lady sex, sorry.)
Fluff level: Buildup
Violence level: Debatable; definitely higher for anyone wanting to play a hunter.
Random Prompts I'd like to explore
Random Plot One: The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask."
***Random Plot Two: You've been a test subject for all of your life. You don't have any idea what life outside of the lab could possibly be like, but you know the life you have now is hell. Today, you find a possibility to escape this hell of a life. Do you take the chance and experience freedom for the first time in your life, or do you think you're not ready for the outside world? Or worse, might the outside world not be ready for you? (Looking to play the escapee, happy to add supernatural elements)
Random Plot Three: You've realized that the genie, if you free her, intends to use her power to rule the world. But you free her anyway because, really, she couldn't possibly be any worse than the people already in charge. [Willing to play either the genie or a human summoning a male genie]
Random Prompt Four: Due to a shortage in guardian angels, God has issued an official decree. All angels must enroll in the guardian program under threat of banishment. You are the angel of death. (Looking to play the human against the guardian angel.)
**Random Plot Five: "I'm sorry…. I'm just…so….tired, can I rest h-" the human said and then collapsed right after…in the dragon's lair right in front of the dragon. (Looking to play the human and a more modern setting)
****Random Plot Six: It is difficult to trigger the true Wrath of a demon, given their nature of being inherently angry. As you(YC) look at your scarred, malnourished and broken young summoner(MC), a familiar red mist begins to descend over your mind. [Particularly craving this.]
****Random Plot Seven: Despite your reputation as a Dark Lord, you have a strict moral code. So when a young woman showing signs of abuse wandered into your realm, you took her in. Now the neighboring kingdom is accusing you of kidnapping their princess. You have to choose between returning her to her abusers or war.[Moder era, please!]
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