Character(s) Welcome To The Sin Krypt

[Oniguro]

IF YOU'RE FILTHY ENOUGH...

This is where i'll be posting all my monstrosities.
Feel free to embrace the chills and look through my creations.

I hope for this page to continue growing as i try to enjoy my stay here on this new site. Please
no negativity or other such ignorant things of the sort.

Here's some music, insects.

Around this forum you'll find that i have a particular song listed with a character below.
Those are their songs. I find it helps to listen to the individual's personality through song when reading about them.

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[Oniguro]

Morana

Spoiler: Can't Ever Keep From Falling Apart...

(This image is CENSORED because i have trust issues)
Art and character belong to me.
This muse is Taken.

Created

Nationality: Unknown

Height: 5'9, 5'8 when hunching over (She is very insecure about this)

Weight: 119lbs

Age: 113 (Visually early 20's)

Figure/build: Tall and feeble, frail and thin.

Hair colour: Raven, blue-black.

Hairstyle: Reaching her bum, long and stringy. Parts of her hair are slowly fading from the roots down into white.

Eye colour: Pale yellow with brown rings around the pupil. Dark purple circles surround the outer eye.

Skin colour: Various muted and decomposing browns and greens. Very pale and yellowish fleshy tones as well.

Tattoos: None.

Piercings: Medium/small stretchers, one cartilage.

Scars/distinguishing marks: Various stitches that seam like they aren't holding well at all and a big, crooked screw through her head.

Preferred style of clothing: Usually long fabrics and shawls. Sometimes platforms. Purples and darks are usually her go-to's.

The Richest Soil

A full, waxy moon hangs above the humid thick sky, almost as it it were framing the very woods itself.
Bats chicker around playfully lighting up the trees with curiosity. Look around some. Can you hear them?
Witches laughter dancing around the limbs in various circles. Tracing your ears. Pulling you close.

Together in unison, they chant into the air for all to hear. In the middle of the casting circle lies tattered garments and various, rather frozen, limbs and organs entwined within them.

Five girls stand, toes rooting into soil.
Five girl's hands, bonded and coiled.
Listen to our words spirits.

The soil within the circle begins to shift beneath them, slowly soaking up what is left of the offered corpse.

We call upon Loneliness.
We call upon the Forgotten.
We call upon the Dismembered.
Give us Morana and in return we will give back what was taken.

The limbs and clothing become overgrown with soil. Engulfed into the earth, back to the spirits who rightfully desires them.
The girls look to each other for a moment.
Nothing was happening.
Why is not--
The ground gives a hard jerk, causing the palm bonded sisters to lose balance and tumble onto the ground.

A redhead rushes to her feet in a frustrated panic.
"Why didn't it work? Nothing was wrong, everything was said right! I don't understand, i can't understa--"
Abruptly being interrupted, a soft voice blurts out. "Wren!"
The flustered ginger turns around to interject before being presented with...a foot?

With dawn approaching, the group of young girls hastily made their way to a cemetery known for its soil. It's rich soil. Once again, casting that very same spell while forming their bonded circle, the girls bury the foot into the soot down under. Hours they waited. Not a breeze to the trees, nor a shake from beneath them. The sun would soon rise, filling the girls with speculation as to what would happen next. Regardless, the night was gone and a certain wicked trio still had school to attend within a few sleepless hours.

Mourning Comes

As the sun rose with bright beams to wake the town, more sinister things were on the rise at the Spellman Mortuary. A young girl sat on top of an autopsy table. From her head to the dirt caked underneath of her toe nails, the girl was covered in stitches. The treads popped out in some places, bugs crawled out of others. What a horrendously beautiful sight to be seen.

nec·ro·man·cy- The supposed practice of communicating with the dead, especially in order to predict the future.

Months would pass before Morana was able to leave the Mortuary. Physical therapy of every sort was a mandatory need. Once you're dead there isn't supposed to be a "coming back." In this case, Morana has to re-teach herself basic functions like eating, walking, and speaking. It was almost as if she were a certain Spellman's secret little experiment after of course, she was dumped there by Wren. No hard feelings right?
Wrong.

Morana had years to burn the coals Wren left in her furnace. Every stitch that needed to be re-stitched. Every bone that popped, EVERY single little thing she had to re-learn gave her time. However...not being able to speak for such a long while gave her the rationality to think before she spoke. Most people don't have long enough of a lifetime to learn this trait. The Spellman's guardians weren't to know anything of the situation. If she were to be discovered who knows what would happen. Everyone and the Dark Lord himself knows what happens to Sabrina with all her antics. Hell forbid what would happen if they found out about this corpse...

Buttons and Pins
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• -Morana resides in Greendale (The same place as Sabrina the witch. Same verse, different story.)
  -Morana spent the first few years of her life with Ambrose Spellman in the Spellman Mortuary.
  -Morana has a best friend named Wren, yes, the witch who brought her back to life.
  -Morana now lives in an old, run-down Victorian home which she inherited once brought back to life.
  -Morana has a black cat named Rattle Bones, Bones for short.
  -Morana works in a book/fabric store. If you're nice, shell pour you some fresh, warm cider and present wrap your purchase.
  -Morana does on the occasion fall apart, LITERALLY.
  -Morana is bisexual, however mostly leans towards men.
  -Morana prefers someone who would treat her nice as opposed to someone who would try to impress her.
  
  Do's and Don'ts
  
  Yes Please!
  -Monster ocs
  -Witches
  -Dark themes
  -MAO Sabrina world characters and ocs
  -Magic
  -Sad plots
  -Fluff
  
  No Thank you!
  -Godmodding
  -Animals being hurt
  -Furries or anthros
  -Wolf boys, cat girls, etc.
  -Ddlg
  

  

  
  

  

  
  In My Head
  
  Morana is a lanky, quiet girl. You wouldn't know she were there if it weren't for how much of a sight she were. The townsfolk are used to her by now, however that doesn't mean a lot of them agree with her existing. Morana holds a job within the town of Greendale, working in a small bookstore that has an odd interest in antique fabrics as well as books. You can find books on the occult along with warm cider and good smells whilst walking amongst. Morana struggles with post-mortem depression. If she neglects to take care of herself, her seams will rot along with other parts of her. This, of course, can be trickily reversed but isn't uncommon for a creature like Morana. To keep her mind away from her skeletons and demons, Morana owns a small black cat named Rattle Bones. You will see him in the windows, on top of bookshelves, and along the mantles in the home. It's rumored that if you treat him with deceit or disrespect, you're cursed. Being very timid, Morana is often a ease to scare or startle. Loud noises and busy places would bring her great discomfort.
  
  

  

  
  In My Home
  
  A day never passes where it doesn't feel like halloween. Even when its cold and snowing, there is still trickery to be had in Greendale. Morana obtained her, not so ordinary, Victorian home from an old will with her name i it. Who would have thought after decades and centuries of being dead that you'd still have a home standing? This home may seem abandoned and overgrown on the outside, however the inside is always welcomingly glowing with orange candles and antique smells. Herbs and potions, jars and baskets of everything a witch or herbalist would need. Morana loves to decorate her home with things she loves. Bats and pumpkins along with spiderwebs and pictures, her home is adorned top to bottom with history of the occult. A tall staircase will take you upstairs to the bedrooms. A sewing room filled with fabrics and buttons, a guest room with walls filled with books, and her master bedroom filled with all of the Lady Frankenstein's things. Make yourself at home.
  

  

  
  

  

  
  

  

  
  

  

  
  

  

  
  

  

  
  

  

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[Oniguro]

Don't Be A Stranger!​

 

[Oniguro]

Llyr

Spoiler: Cold Blood

(I don't own these images, i just made the collage)
This muse is Taken.

The Sea

Nationality: Welsh/German

Height: 5'9 n' 3 quarters

Weight: 158lbs

Age: Indefinite.

Figure/Build: A classical figure.
Rounded muscles and a lean physique. Soft.

Hair colour: Deep umber brown

Hairstyle: Usually kept in a mopped mess, curls reached down a bit below his jawline.

Eye colour: Mossy turquoise in colour with hints of honey floating around.

Skin colour: Fair sun stained porcelain; a fair olive.

Tattoos & Piercings: None

Scars/Distinguishing marks: Very few freckles and moles scattered about his body. Just one fleck upon his left cheek bone.

Preferred style of clothing: Trousers and a button up were usual. Often, he preferred to look nice dressing in materials like Velvet, Corduroy, and Wool. Always accompanied with a dress shoe and matching socks. Socks always matched.

Lores of Loss

" Imagine a time, long before the things you've seen and people you know. A time where no streets nor people crowed the nature surrounding. A time a stillness existed. A pause to take time an enjoy what you have. What you had. . . A man lies in the soft, blanket like grass with a beautiful woman to adorn his side. Beautiful spirits linked at the soul and the flesh. Times were different then. Nokken weren't meant to wed human women, but she was not human to him. Not once did she act like one. She was ethereal. . .She knew better than to swim with him, however one day he must have had the right amount of persuasion. He never meant any ill intent, she knew this. Giggles would fill the air as the two splashed and swam about the beautiful turquoise waters, however giggles soon began to fade. They had been swimming for so long, the girl began to grow tired. Not wanting to leave him, she stayed with him in his arms. Soft cooings of affection were exchanged here and there. The two being rocked by the waters caused the girl to drift into a peaceful sleep as the man held her. He admired her face as he allowed his ind to drift and wander. . .What it would be like if he were to hold her just for a while under the water. How beautiful her hair would flow and how soft her skin would be. How ethereal. So he did. . .
They once held each other with eternity, but eternity wasn't so eternal under the waters.
Water now surrounds the two, engulfing them. Young, sweet, and naive.
She never once woke. She remained beautiful. "

Eternal Return

The theory that the universe and all existence and energy has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space...If only it were that. A theory. Days and nights usually mixed in together like paints meeting water. Blurring the line between when the days started and when they ended. There were no edges to a circle.
Dawn was crucial part in Llyr's 'routine'. It was spent submerged in water for hours on end. Recharging was a good way to word it. Just like most things however, the man could never stay doing one thing for too long. His mind always found a way to come digging into the tender walls of his memories, riddled with tar and pain...To cope, Llyr would paint. He was very good at it, too.
When he wasn't painting, he was working. Selling his pieces in a rainy little town that thrived on Fine Arts, he made a pretty good penny doing so. Like a string being pulled and tugged, he always found himself back at his home. A cabin tucked away in the close outskirts of the small town. It was small, yet the nature surrounding it was vast. The property had beautiful foggy turquoise waters, lily pads, and algae floating around the top. A weathered, old cobblestone path lead from the ponds to the back and front doors.
It always rained. . .Much so to the point where none of the humans around realized that they, too were stuck in this cycle of monotony. Every morning the storm started around the same time at the same place. . .Above Llyr's home the clouds would accumulate and shift about before falling heavy with tears ready to be wept. Just as quickly as it came in the mornings, it followed through the night. As did Llyr, continuing his dance with fate.
Or should it be said, Song. . .

Lament

Though the days were filled with colors and art, soon it would be apparent why Llyr fell ill of remembering things. After dedicating so much time to his own mind and socializing at work, the man fell overwhelmed to the brim. He was never sure when, but he always ended up on the hard wood floors of his painting room. Every bit of paint that found its way onto the flooring could be seen by the man who was uncontrollably sobbing into the ground beneath him. Bloodshot eyes stung tired from tears that drenched his face and curled locks of hair...How long had he been here? That wasn't the only thing that strung through his mind. Countless guilt ridden thoughts consumed Llyr's brain and core being. Cries of grief and guilt flew through the air like an abrasive dance of torment. Spinning and winding around the walls of the room that contained them. Countless hours would pass.9:30pm...10:45pm...11:50pm...12:00pm.
As soon as the hand of the face caressed the number, Llyr found himself dragging the empty shell that once held so much to an empty room that held only one thing. A grand piano covered with aa large, old linen sheet. It felt...numb. He felt numb. The room was cold to the point where one could see their own breath. Despite how he felt each time he entered this room, he would uncover the instrument and tidy up the area. Making sure no dust made its way to the ivory.
The man fell to the seat that sat before a piano that's home was filled with liquid. Far from water, the liquid was nothing to be meddled with, nor was the instrument. Limbo liquid is what he'd called it. Once played, whomever the musician must be, something would emerge to the surface. Slowly, it would be revealed that whomever the musician had loved the most, their body would appear.

"His fingers took to the cold keys like a train meeting its tracks. They only had one direction to go. He played a tune, a reoccurring tune that will forever haunt the man's mind. The notes seemed to feel for the man, as he was now jaded...almost waiting. Anticipating something from this painful cycle. Solace of sorts. . . The housing of the piano was filled to the brim with a liquid that held a thick yet watery viscosity. As music filled the almost empty rooms of the home, a form emerges from the depths of the piano. Immersing from the liquid was. . .she. Her. His Peaceful and ethereal. . . Mindlessly, Llyr would play until his notes wouldn't make sense anymore. He would look at her until he couldn't play anymore. . .Until she would return from which she came. Swollen eyes sat there, staring into this instrument of torture. This instrument was both his solace and his chain. . ."

Extra Notes

-In case it wasn't obvious, Llyr is a Nokken Spirit.

-Llyr's favorite colours are Turquoise, Cyan, Brown, and Olive.

-Llyr has no animals. No pets, not even a fish. However, he appears to really enjoy them.

-Due to Llyr's never-truly-ending emotional breakdowns, the impact from his fists meeting with his head seem to have caused damage over recent years. Short term memory loss is a constant struggle of Llyr's. Memories always find a way back to him after time. . .

-If Llyr is to stray off course from his eternal cycle, his mind becomes warped. This meaning, the more he tried to break free, the more sanity he begins to lose. Interestingly, his can be tracked through his artwork if one takes notice to it.

-Llyr likes to hum tunes often. You can hear him most commonly humming "Room of Angel" by Akira Yamaoka.
"The song is about a daughter, singing to her mother and in memory of her death. The mother used to abuse the daughter, so she has no affection for her, yet cannot help but feel grief, hence the line, "The love you never gave I give to you." Also, the daughter is lamented by the fact that the only attention she knew by the mother is the abuse given to her at a younger age. So of course, she is sad. Hence the line, "If I had died, I would have never felt sad at all." It's more a song of mixed emotions, and a touching lullaby to someone she hates, yet loves."
Put into perspective, it can be seen how Llyr finds kinship with this song. Not for how it's originally intended, mother and daughter. He resonates with the pain one feels to hate, yet love. Loving his lost one, yet hating existence for the fact he's doomed to repeat for what he had done to her without meaning to. Without her.

-Despite being stuck to his current home, Llyr was originally born in St. Davids Wales. Having parents that don't agree with Nokken-Human relationships, Llyr couldn't bare to stay and left to what is his current home today. An estimated time of living in both areas would be St. Davids for 16 years, current humble abode the rest. . .

-Llyr's Mother is German, Father is Welsh.

-Llyr has visited many places in his lifetime. Italy, Greece, Germany, France, Spain. Anywhere known for its art, really. Having no real concept in the relevance of time itself, Llyr had no ties to keep him from doing such things. His arts improved greatly after travel.

-Llyr's most recent painting just sold for $20,000.

-Llyr will never tell you what he does with his money.

-While painting, Llyr can be found eating some sort of something.
His favorite are pomegranates.

-Llyr is straight.

-Llyr is pescatarian.

Do's and Don'ts

My pleasure
-Sad plots
-Mythical creatures (Two legs only please)
-Women
-Death
-Romance
-Short Stories

I'd Rather Not
-Men
-Just smut
-Gore
-Heavy kinks

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